Tag: stink kink

11th Batch Ko-Fi Fics: 1st Fill

Slasher76/Lúcio – RAPE TW; choking; stink kink; rough fucking – Lúcio is camping in the woods. Slasher finds him.

In the sudden beginning – Lucio getting shocked out of a cozy sleep, hole still wet and achy after jerking and fingering himself to drowsiness earlier – he had still struggled and tried to cry out in alarm.

The only thing that little stunt had gotten him was a cock, musky and *smelly* shoved down his throat until he gagged, tears forming in his eyes and snot starting to run.

His assailant is quiet mostly. A huge, feverishly hot presence that only grunts occasionally as he gives it to Lucio in a way he‘s never had before.

He‘s stopped struggling quickly. Maybe he shouldn’t have – maybe he should have fought back more; but in the end it is easier to just go along with the abuse and let himself get fucked in a way that makes his teeth rattle but has his cock shamefully hard.

Lúcio is getting flung around just as the brute wishes; arranging him like nothing more than a ragdoll – a fuckdoll – for his amusement; and every now and then Lúcio can see the eerie glint of a jagged weapon to the side. Close enough to be grabbed within a heart beat and shoved deep into his squishy belly if he’s not cooperative enough, he is sure of it.

He gets flipped onto his belly, hips dragged up into the air until his knees lift off the floor and he has to brace himself on the balls of his feet. Help along in his own rape as the monstrous man mounts him like an animal.

Lúcio’s cock is swinging between his thighs, untouched and wet at the tip. His throat is burning from the rough, balls-deep fuck from earlier. He’d felt a sick mixture of abject relief and… disappointment when his assailant had come, shooting his thick, big load basically right into his belly as he made Lúcio choke on his unwashed dick.

It’s almost hilarious for him now how naive he had been to think that that would have been it. He does not think the man has even gotten soft before starting his rutting once more, balls obviously still full and ready to breed him some more.

Lúcio grunts when suddenly a heavy boot hits the back of his head. From what he could tell, the man hasn’t gotten undressed apart from opening his pants enough to get his fat cock out. He is even wearing an eerie mask that Lúcio tries not to look at. Dirt tickles against his cheek, and his eyes fill with tears from the pain, but he is distracted from it by the feeling of large, rough hands spreading his ass, and then the man’s cock pushing into him, blunt and careless, and using the meager bit of lubricant Lúcio had used earlier to jerk off.

Lúcio can’t breathe. It is like the man is fucking the air right out of his lungs as he starts laying into him without a care in the world, his boot keeping Lúcio down while his hard, unrelenting grip makes sure his victim is not slouching down onto his knees.

He’s hiccuping out weird sounds. He can’t tell himself whether he’s sobbing or moaning. His cock is still fat and distracting. It feels like a wound; overstuffed and more than ripe. He does not think he’s ever had sex with someone so wholly, deeply uninterested in his own pleasure.

He’s getting grunt fucked like an appliance – and that is what is happening; he’s started laying into him with sharp, irregular thrusts that have him grunt deep and guttural in his chest, mingling with Lúcio’s weird little squawks – and Lúcio feels like he’s in a fever dream.

When the man finally shifts his boot from Lúcio’s head, he feels… delirious. Out of it. The world is turning in circles around him, and getting flipped back onto his back is not helping.

His assailant is standing in front of him in an awkward half-crouch. He is way too tall to stand upright in Lúcio’s tent. He is so *broad*… he seems to be taking up all the available space.

He does not seem to feel Lúcio’s weight; he lifts him with a rough, uncaring grip at his ankles until Lúcio’s shoulders are barely still touching the floor, then shoves back into him; diving deep into the silky, hot insides he’s left just moments prior.

Lúcio gurgles but the man keeps quiet; his mask is staring down at him without expression, the eye holes glowing an eerie orange. Lúcio wants to say that it at least shocked his cock into softness, but still it is lying fat and needy against his belly, even as he gets his legs spread like a whore and his guts seemingly re-arranged by the large dick pumping into him.

Eventually, he is too fatigued to keep staring at the man and lets his head loll back. His abdomen feels as sickly stuffed as his cock does. He wonders if he’ll catch anything from this beast of a man; he certainly smells like he hasn’t seen water in a few weeks. (… And Lúcio does not know yet that in future he’ll needily sniff dirty underwear as he jerks off; that he can barely even get it up anymore without a thick, pungent cloud of odor around him.)

He stares blearily at the weapon the man has brought with him. He imagines him taking it into his big fist and putting it against Lúcio’s throat. Just a silent, menacing threat.

And suddenly, Lúcio comes, pathetic and whimpering, getting his belly hot and sticky with his own cum.

The man just keeps fucking him through it. If he noticed Lúcio’s shameful orgasm, he does not show it. Just keeps using up that warm little hole he’s found.

Holy fuck I just love whenever you talk about McCree’s cock and balls, like God it’s so good and messy and fuck it probably stinks but give me more, I just want it all over me inside and out until I can’t think.

“it probably stinks but give me more” yes yes yes yes yes

I have like 2 HCs for McCree

one is him being just a good snuggly bear

and one is him being a super lazy fuck who washes his junk like every three days if he’s diligent about it. When he opens his pants there’s just this thick waft of cock and whoever is down there will be drooling for it I’m p sure

he routinely lets his balls get washed by others ❤

5th Batch of Ko-Fi Fics: 1st Fill

McCree/Reyes – pit and ass worship; rimming; sweaty; mild stink kink – Gabriel has just worked out and Jesse can’t get over how tasty he is.

“Jesse…” Gabriel twists slightly, vaguely trying to get out from beneath McCree’s heavy body, but not struggling enough to make Jesse stop. If it were anybody else, Jesse would even say Gabriel is squirming at having his armpit inspected so closely – but he rather not say that out loud. Reyes can be a prickly bastard, after all.

“Jus’ a few minutes,” he begs, voice slurred and a bit whiny. He already feels light-headed from the salty smell of clean sweat, and the feeling of heaving his head wedged between Gabriel’s ribcage and large, meaty bicep.

His whole body is made to crush a man’s head and Jesse loves it.

“You are disgusting,” Reyes mutters. It sounds muffled; he’s probably hiding his face again. Jesse gets off on how vulnerable Gabriel is behind closed doors. How his abrasive outdoor personality switches to near-submissive levels of bickering when Jesse got him spread out and worships his body.

“Yeah,” he groans into the sensitive skin of the Commander’s armpit. He digs his feet into the comforter and pushes himself up more firmly. Gets his face in there to feel the wet tickle of hair against his cheek.

Gabriel smells amazing; especially after a good workout. He might pout and huff about Jesse pushing him down and wanting to get little kitten licks in on the tender skin beneath his arms, but he still wears those ridiculously tantalizing muscle shirts as well; all for better access, Jesse likes to think.

He lifts his head, staring at the hard curve of Gabriel’s jaw, and gently but inexorably guides his arm up and above his head. Gets him to stretch out nicely in front of him – and when he playfully tugs at the dark hair curling wet in Gabriel’s armpit, the Commander gasps for him and does this weird little twist once more; his tiny workout shorts tenting obscenely with his erection.

“God, you look amazing,” McCree croons, tugs once more, then gently drags his fingers from Gabriel’s pit up his lovely stretched bicep. “Turn around for me, okay?”

Gabriel does not look at him; in fact, he has his face still hidden behind his hand, his jaw working as he grinds his teeth and seems to debate whether to follow along or not.

In the end, his own neediness wins out and he turns around with a little grunt, hips immediately shifting as he begins gently fucking his cock against the insides of his shorts.

“There ya go…” Jesse’s voice is pitched lower. Rougher. A good imitation of what it would become in a few year’s time – and Gabriel groans into the pillow he’s got clenched between his teeth now; his lovely cock undoubtedly wetting the fabric of his shorts by now.

Jesse savors the moment in which he pulls down Gabriel’s shorts; makes it nice and slow so he can see how the meaty ass is practically spilling out of them – nice and fat and with a good amount of jiggle that makes Jesse’s insides clench hard and hot and needy.

“Damn, boss,” he whispers, big hands on Gabriel’s ass in a second; kneading the cheeks and pulling them apart without pretense so he can see the lovely hole he’s hiding there; muscle puffy and clenched tightly; twitching beneath Jesse’s insolent fingers. “I fucken’ love your ass. Never seen anythin’ like it.”

He probably sounds drunk as he slurs his words, nestling himself between Gabriel’s thighs so his head is on level with the object of his ardent adoration.

“Could take pictures with it.”

He leans forward, tongue out; getting a slow, self-indulgent lick in. He kind of wants to worm a hand beneath the Commander; get his palm cupped against the wet head of his dick – but he is loathe to get his hands off of Gabriel’s ass. He needs to keep it spread and vulnerable for his greedy tongue. Needs to bury his face as deeply as he can and inhale the sour scent of Gabriel’s ass after a good workout.

Fuck, but Gabriel is tasty.

mchanzo stink kink??

Hanzo has been rubbing his face against Jesse’s chest for a good ten minutes now; mouthing at it, rubbing his lips against the crisp hair, the tip of his nose gently dragging through the unkempt fur.

Jesse’s first thought had been that the archer wanted to nurse and was too skittish to admit it; but his fingers when they joined in on the action were sure and unafraid to pinch the flat tips meanly between blunt nails or roll them and squeeze them between the rough pads until tears sprung up in Jesse’s eyes and he had to pant through his mouth like a dog.

No, Hanzo did not want to nurse on him, despite being seemingly so obsessed with his chest that he didn’t let him move from underneath him. It took Jesse a while to understand what he was so squeamish about; until he heard the soft little huffs of breath Hanzo took whenever he skirted closer to one of Jesse’s hairy pits, because Hanzo was so very diligent in not showing what got his gears good and going.

After that, it was easy to give him what he so obviously craved: McCree’s big paw curling around the sensible top knot he still wore, holding on fast even as Hanzo started squirming and protesting.

“Shhhh,” Jesse soothed, guiding Hanzo’s face – his nose – into his armpit with a little more force because he was pretty sure it was easier getting a cat into a bath than to help Hanzo Shimada to his luck.

“There ya go,” he croons finally as he has Hanzo’s face buried deep in the humid mess of his pit hair, face heating up as he tries to breathe through the tickling sensation of Hanzo’s breath – he is reasonably sure that Hanzo will castrate him if he laughs now.

Cautiously, he loosens the grip he has on the archer’s hair. By now he doesn’t need to force Hanzo any longer: he buries his face into the fragrant, warm place all on his own, moaning soft and delirious as he chokes himself on the thick smell.