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.

Hanzo had a habit of staring.

He’d stared when McCree had pushed his legs up, folding him into a gorgeous, little package so he had all the access he could ever want.

He’d stared – even though his eyes had started to tear up a little, and his pupils had blown wide – when McCree had started rubbing his cock along his crack, playfully letting the blunt head catch at his lube wet hole. He’d stared at him, mouth falling open for his little, labored pants as McCree had finally started working his cock in, making him stretch, stretch, stretch around the girth.

He’d stared, eyelids growing heavy and cheeks darkening, as he got fucked slow and deep, legs held in McCree’s clutching hands, held up and with the knees nearly at Hanzo’s shoulders.

And he’d kept staring when McCree had come, bucking into him as deep as he could, a low, ragged groan rumbling from his chest, and metal arm gripping hard enough to leave what would become an ugly – pretty – bruise on his thigh.

“Ya like whatcha see?” McCree sighed when he let himself slip to the side and bounce on the bed, hand lazily scratching through the hair on his chest, and, when he saw how Hanzo’s dark eyes followed with their usual intense curiosity, let it slide down his furred belly to where his cock still was half-hard and pink; wet from Hanzo’s gorgeous, little cunt that he was pretty sure wasn’t as cute and small as it had been just half an hour earlier.

He smirked and tugged at the thick bush around his cock, knowing Hanzo was watching all of it. He seemed entranced, too – his metal knees still in the air where his legs hang forgotten, mouth wet and open.

Yes, Hanzo’s staring had been unsettling to the max when they started their little tete-a-tete’s, but McCree soon had learned not to let it bother him too much; maybe even have a little fun.

“Ya like ‘em big…” He pushed one arm behind his head, and watched Hanzo take in the way he played with his cock; holding it in a fist and playing with the dark foreskin to let him see glimpses of the wet, dark red head that had been splitting him open so wide. “’Course you do. You’re a little cockslut – I’ve seen how greedy y’are for it.”

His eyes slid down to Hanzo’s crotch. He could feel his mouth watering at the sight of his dick. As he watched, a thin line of sticky pre-cum started oozing from the tip towards the slick already on his abdomen, making it shiny.

God, but Hanzo was a pretty thing. Even his fucking bellybutton was gorgeous.

“Didn’t come yet, didya? Can’t come without a thick cock spreading you open, babydoll?”

Hanzo groaned low and wrecked and McCree could feel his own cock jerk in his fist. It was the first time that the archer had made a sound tonight. His feet had finally found the mattress but he seemed oddly reluctant to touch himself – his fingers were curled tightly into the sheets, smooth, generous chest straining upward as he started to squirm and threw his head back to expose his throat for Jesse’s viewing pleasure.

“I know, I know,” he crooned soothingly. He almost hastily let go of himself and rolled towards Hanzo, his fingers dancing first across his jawline, scratching through his beard, then down towards his throat where he tickled fingertips across his Adam’s apple. “I know what you need, little whore. I can give it to ya. Give ya just what someone like you needs.”

He was still almost tickling – sometimes playfully spreading his hand and giving his throat a gentle, affectionate squeeze like an animal would. Hanzo seemed locked in a stalemate; his body was practically vibrating, kept as still as possible, eyes wide and rolled towards Jesse with near pathetic hope. He looked like a spooked colt and it tugged something fierce inside his chest that he hadn’t known was even still in there.

“You want my fingers while I do it, gorgeous?” he whispered and wriggled the metal ones in front of Hanzo’s face because for just a moment he looked like he had no idea what was even going on anymore; like all his considerable brain activity had been reduced to the throbbing in the tip of his cock and the way it almost didn’t want to stand up anymore from how heavy with blood it had become.

He nodded slowly, carefully – just a small incline of his chin, as if he was afraid to shield his throat from McCree; as if not having it on easy display would make Jesse reconsider what he was about to do.

How silly.

Jesse could only imagine the dual sensation of getting your windpipe slowly, gently squeezed shut while simultaneously thick, unyielding metal fingers were slipping sinuously inside you.

He watched – and listened – carefully as Hanzo’s eyes rolled up into his head, finally not staring and staring and staring, as his mouth opened and nothing but a low, forced gurgle escaped him. His body was still, then moved; first slow, almost a dream as he carefully unclawed his fingers from the sheets and curled his hands around McCree’s forearm – not restricting, just holding on. Then more insistent, the longer McCree kept him on the edge of stopping his air supply completely, hips bucking violently up and away from the deep, insistent probing of his relentless fingers.

He carefully counted to ten in his head, then let go, listening to Hanzo gulp in sharp breaths of air. His cock, when Jesse looked down, was angry red and smacking against his abdomen – pulling with it a sticky line of pre-cum attached to that stupidly gorgeous belly button, he realized dimly.

He moved a little closer, rubbing the coarse, generous hair of his thigh against Hanzo’s side to ground him a little before he squeezed down once more, the fingers of his other hand shoving in deeply.

“Gonna come getting choked like a cheap three dollar hooker? Gonna come for me like the gorgeous little slut you are? Bet Daddy doesn’t know how his son likes to play dirty in bed. Bet Daddy has no idea how his precious, little heir is spreading his legs and begging for a fat American cock like a cat in heat every. Damn. Night.”

Hanzo’s eyes are squeezed shut and he’s not able to breathe at all anymore. There are tears slicking down towards his temples and his hands are clawing at McCree’s arm but not trying to pull him away.

His face is a mask of agony and bliss; sweaty and flushed, sharp teeth gritted and eyebrows drawn together. His feet are scrabbling helplessly as his hips jerk without any coordination, and he only succeeds in making his cock slap noisily against his belly, and the sharp talons on his cybernetic feet rip up the sheet and tangle it around his ankles.

He’s not making any sounds – is not able to – only the wet, wild suckling of his hole and McCree’s loud, labored breathing is to be heard for tortuously long seconds.

It’s only when he crooks his fingers – almost in an afterthought – hooking and rubbing them against the ripe, puffy prostate he’d made an acquaintance with earlier, that the stalemate suddenly broke.

Hanzo’s eyes snapped open wide, body going rigid and arching off the bed like his bow as his cock jerked out thick strings of cum; and for just a second before McCree carefully takes his hand away and watches Hanzo gulp in huge, needy breaths of air, he thinks that he’s never been more pretty than with his dark eyes staring sightless at the ceiling, wet with tears, and his face a sticky, gorgeous mess.

yooo. *shifty eyes* … @bicosporn because reasons 😛 didn’t think I’d write it so soon tbh but I had a surprising amount of time and dedication today.

‘tis basically McCree being really into Hanzo’s tits and having a dirty mouth.

McCree hadn’t listened to Winston’s briefing for a good five minutes, and he supposed there would be some people pissed off about his lack of attention, but really he was confused about how anyone was able to concentrate when Hanzo was making a show out of himself right there on the other side of the room for everybody to see.

McCree sure as hell wasn’t able to focus on anything else other than Hanzo’s chest since Winston had moved down from the dais, and Hanzo had moved with him to keep him in sight, rotating minimally but just enough for this poor, helpless bastard to see that he’d crossed his arms sometime during the lecture, and…

…and to be honest, these days it took little else for Jesse to get hot and bothered since he’d finally eroded Hanzo’s resistance a couple weeks ago. Hanzo was like a drug.

So Jesse just stood there, leaning against the wall and pretending he was bored to hell listening, when in reality he was ogling Hanzo across the room, face hidden by his wide-brimmed hat, furiously chewing on the toothpick he had taken with him after lunch.

Hanzo’s pecs looked positively plush, squished together like they were between the restricting frame of his biceps, and McCree wondered how deep that snug little valley between them could be. How deep the dip would be if he put his mind to squeezing Hanzo’s pecs together for his own selfish benefit.

He thought about cupping Hanzo’s chest; basically taking generous hand fulls of the smooth, defined muscles and kneading them; rubbing the palms of his hands across pouty nipples that would get hard and needy at the slightest attention, as he’d been able to confirm for himself.

He thought about straddling Hanzo’s ribcage; of having this proud princeling beneath him, looking up at him with dark, cool eyes that could start burning so quickly – Hanzo’s temper always close beneath the surface, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

McCree grit his teeth, feeling the toothpick start to splinter and warp. He pulled one knee up and put his foot on the wall behind him just to give the heavy weight of his lazily pulsing cock some room, and also shield his predicament from the others.

It was then that Hanzo moved, and the light shifted across the swell and dip of his chest, as well as the muscles of his tattooed left arm, showing it off just as much as the rest of his barely clothed-

Goddamn he was practically naked, wasn’t he?! McCree had been able to attest it himself how easy it was to pull the side of his kimono down from his shoulder, getting it to pool around his waist and giving delicious, free access to his upper body, and…

Jesse jerked out of his – well… obsession, if he was honest – as Torbjörn briefly stumbled into his leg. The briefing was over and the ones attending it were filing out – only McCree remained, carefully adjusting the swollen bulge of his cock, and trying to get his pulse back under control after Hanzo’s… after his… well. After his display.

It took him embarrassingly long to realize he wasn’t even alone in the room; that in fact Hanzo was still there, standing on the other side and looking at him with inscrutable dark eyes and a knowing smirk on his lips, half-hidden by the whiskers of the neatly kept beard.

“Ya little bastard,” Jesse whispered, stunned and delighted by the unexpected challenge thrown at his feet. He numbly watched Hanzo leave – then spat out the mangled remains of the toothpick and hurried after him.

It never occurred to McCree how well trained he already was.

.o.

“Na-ah, babydoll.” McCree struggled to hold Hanzo at a distance with the fist full of thick hair he’d grabbed earlier – and then, after Hanzo seemed determined to still get at his price, eyes glittering and mouth invitingly wet, he curled the other one around his cock to shield it. The metal felt blessedly cool against his angrily pounding flesh – especially after the suckling, eager heat of Hanzo’s mouth.

Hanzo’s lips parted, the tip of his tongue peeking out for a second. It looked as if he was about to stretch it out and try to touch it to the dark red head of McCree’s cock, then seemed to think better of it at the last moment and quickly closed his mouth, eyes flicking up to meet Jesse’s heated stare.

There was a flush across his prominent cheekbones. McCree had no idea what was going on in his head kneeling here in Hanzo’s small Overwatch HQ room, after having enthusiastically sucked McCree’s cock until his throat had bulged with it – McCree had been able to feel it with a hand curled around Hanzo’s throat.

“What is it?” Hanzo’s gaze started drifting back down, then quickly jerked back up again. McCree could feel his cock flex against the unrelenting grip of his metal hand. Hanzo was a fucking drug, and Jesse needed to keep his wits about him so he wouldn’t get dragged down into that swamp.

He swallowed thickly and squeezed his cock a little harder than necessary just to calm down. Hanzo looked delicious kneeling before him and looking up, upper body naked and tattoo dark against his left shoulder.

“Ah think you have somethin’ to make up to me, don’tcha?”

McCree watched Hanzo’s eyebrows drift together in chagrin, eyes sliding off to the side. McCree grinned, finding his feet once again, and feeling himself settle more firmly into what was happening.

“Did you think I’d just forget what you did? Lookin’ like a little slut; showin’ off your pretty tits to the whole room…”

It was fascinating to see the change in Hanzo’s face; how it slackened a little, the flush lowering from his cheekbones into his cheeks, eyes going even darker as his pupils blew wide. Jesse felt breathless, as if he’d ran for too long and too fast. He’d almost thought he’d be overstepping a boundary, but… seeing Hanzo’s reaction, he felt more secure in what he was about to do.

“Ah know y’ like showing off like a whore,” he crooned, words drawling out like syrup. He finally let go off his cock and instead cupped the side of Hanzo’s jaw, metal thumb dragging across his lower lip. “Why don’t ya show off for me? Show me your gorgeous tits. Been hungry for them for…”

He’s trailing off, never finishing the sentence, as he watches Hanzo move – hands lifting obediently; cupping the undersides of his pecs to slightly shove them together. He looks lewd and obscene and fucking perfect; showing off just like that as if he… as if he just wanted to be pretty and obedient for him – yet at the same time he looked away and to the side, seemingly embarrassed at his own needy display.

“Daaahlin’,” McCree groans, cock jerking against his dangling, broad belt buckle. “Get on the fuckin’ bed. Get on the fuckin’ bed, Hanzo.”

They nearly trip over each other like goddamn teenagers in their haste.

.o.

“Gorgeous, little slut. Lookit you showin’ off for me.”

McCree couldn’t believe that he was actually doing what he’d been fantasizing about not too long ago; kneeling astride Hanzo’s ribcage and watching him press his pecs together solely for Jesse’s viewing pleasure.

He began to wonder whether he’d hit his head during one of their missions and was maybe lying in a hospital bed somewhere.

The thought flew out of his head when he gently rocked his hips, the head of his dick dragging along the valley Hanzo had created, leaving behind sticky pre-cum.

Hanzo’s nostrils flared as he caught the sharp scent, and his mouth opened on a small, almost shy moan.

“Yeah…” McCree breathed, and then again, with a little euphoric laugh as he moved again, more assured this time, “Yeah.”

It was so easy to reach down and push Hanzo’s hands away; get his own on that glorious chest and knead and push just as he saw fit. Just a couple weeks ago – hell, just a couple hours ago – he hadn’t thought Hanzo would ever let him close enough to do this.

In the end, though, Hanzo looked downright drunk on the way Jesse used him. His hair was loose and all over the place – thick and dark as ink where it hadn’t greyed yet. It made him look out of it; totally enthralled by the motion of McCree’s cock through the valley between his pectoral muscles. The tips of his ears, whenever they peeked out of the mess of his hair, were bright red, and it struck McCree as shockingly adorable – a word he thought he’d never associate with Hanzo Shimada.

“Help me.. help me,” he chanted, voice low and shot. He dug his fingers into Hanzo’s chest when he immediately moved obedient and accommodating to McCree’s single-minded pleasure; hands coming up to form a tight roof across McCree’s cock and keep it from slipping out of the gratifyingly plush valley of his cleavage.

“Come…” Hanzo licked his lips and tried it again, eyes flicking up briefly to McCree’s face before staring down again, nearly cross-eyed as he watched the dark red, swollen tip of Jesse’s cock emerge from beneath his hands again and again. “Come closer.”

McCree didn’t think he’d ever forget the sight of Hanzo straining his head up, tongue out to try and get little licks in across his cock’s leaking tip.

“Oh god, oh god, oh…” He had to bite his tongue to stop babbling, and just kept watching, harsh gasps ripping out of his throat whenever he fucked into the warm, tight tunnel of Hanzo’s hands, and felt the fluttering touch of his tongue against the very tip.

When he came, he did so without warning – and remorse, if he was perfectly honest.

The sight of thick streaks of cum slicking across Hanzo’s chin and getting caught in the dark hair of his beard, was almost better than the burning, tugging sensation of the orgasm itself.

McCree wondered vaguely if Hanzo would ever agree to him taking pictures of his blissed-out cum-streaked face, because McCree thought he’d never seen anything sexier in his damn life – it was enough to motivate his dick into a valiant effort to stay hard.

“Gorgeous slut,” he whispered, dragging the knuckles of his right hand gently across Hanzo’s heated cheek.

Omg slut play hartwin. I’m thinking they both get off on the humiliation and shame of it, Harry casually commenting how eggsy is letting Harry ruin him….

Harry clicks with his tongue in a disapproving manner and slaps Eggsy’s ass once – and sharp at that. Eggsy immediately stills and draws in a startled breath, head turning so he can look back at Harry over his shoulder.

The flush that Harry had seen rising into the boy’s chest earlier had now crawled into his throat and face. Eggsy looks feverish.

“I said you are to remain still,” he reiterates with a dangerous undertone that has Eggsy’s mouth drop open, muscles squeezing down on Harry’s cock. Christ, the lad was feeling like sin; clinging to him like wet silk.

He digs his fingers into the red, plump cheek of Eggsy’s ass and listens to his delirious groan as he slowly starts pulling out, eyes sliding in a leisurely pace from the boy’s face towards where his wet cock was slowly sliding out of the swollen, mouthing muscle.

“It’s hard for you to obey when you have a cock inside you, isn’t it? You want to feel it everywhere all at once. You’re quite the greedy trollop, aren’t you, boy?”

Harry stares at the way Eggsy’s ass stretches around the broad ridge of his cock’s head and feels his balls jerk up almost painfully at the sound Eggsy makes. It is an uncoordinated kind of moan. Groggy and wet – like his boy has started drooling, body going lax and even hotter beneath Harry’s hand braced in the small of his back.

“Christ, but you’re letting me ruin you… would you look at that…” Harry wishes he had kept his glasses on – had a better angle to record how Eggsy’s body was swallowing up his thumb alongside his dick, other than the camera next to the bed.

Eggsy was yowling at the new stretch but didn’t pull away – just let Harry do to him as he pleased, even if that entailed stretching his hole until it was sloppy and gaping; soft enough so Harry could slide back in and fuck another load into him a couple hours later during tea time if he so damned well pleased to do so.

“Why should I pay for a used up specimen such as yourself?” Harry asks finally; almost conversationally. He fucks Eggsy first on his thumb, then with his dick; just to hear the boy howl and feel him clench, trying to force the intrusion out – or suckle him in, which was more likely. When the position gets too awkward, he pulls the digit out in favor of smacking Eggsy’s thighs some more. Get them pink and listen to the boy’s little yapping cries.

Eggsy doesn’t answer. He seems beyond anything other than just taking the abuse – his cock feels almost too hard and too wet against Harry’s wrist whenever he reaches down and drags fingernails across the tight belly, and pulls on the thin hair he finds beneath his navel.

“I think,” he announces, voice a little shaky and breathless, “I shan’t pay. I’ll use you and fill you and leave you lying here for your next… suitor. Just like the slut you are.”

Eggy nearly chokes on his drool as he comes, back bend through like a cat and toes cramping as he pulses around Harry and falls apart.