Patreon Compilation – Fic#333 – Hanzo/Male OW chars – muzzling; fake reluctance – It's A Tradition

Hanzo/Male OW chars – inspired from a tumblr post that basically was romanticizing... forceful stuff... in a very cute way :) So here it is with Hanzo in the middle!

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Hanzo slides around the corner and is grabbed around the throat by a huge hand. His eyes widen and his hands come up immediately to scratch at the wrist like a wild animal but his hands, too, are caught and pulled behind his back by someone else suddenly appearing behind him.

The scent of unwashed man and cigars enveloping him would suggest that it is Cassidy, whereas the giant in front of him is Reinhardt, shushing him and pulling him into a side room.

“N-No! No, I will not abide to this… this thing you have established, I-”

“Sshhh.” Reinhardt’s thick fingers squeeze until Hanzo is unable to speak any longer, gurgling and wheezing for air, his heartbeat starting to pound in his temples in a quick staccato rhythm.

Reinhardt turns around to the rest of the room. “He’s afraid,” he says with the low cadence of someone talking about a wild animal. “I suppose we have to do this more often so he’ll start getting used to it.”

Hanzo’s renewed struggle is met by a soft chuckle. Like he is being cute or something as the giant pulls him toward the bare desk in the middle of the room.

“Poor thing,” Soldier murmurs. He steps closer while Reinhardt pins Hanzo down to the table with that same huge hand, only now shifted to the back of his neck. Hanzo tries to protest again but the moment he opens his mouth, a spider gag is pushed in place and buckled behind his head.

His eyes are big and wild and the faces of the others are swimming as he realizes with mortification that he is starting to tear up. Someone clicks their tongue.

“He’s so afraid… don’t worry, we’ll take such good care of you. You’re safe, little one.”

“Pretty bitch,” Cassidy drawls, his hand large and warm on the small of Hanzo’s back. “Gonna take such good care o’ ya.”

Hanzo knows they will. He doesn’t know why he is like this. Fighting it every time the fateful night rolls around. But the others take it in stride. If they are worried about having to fuck Hanzo into submission every time, they never have made so much as a peep. If anything, it seems like they enjoy themselves. Their voices are calm and low, pitched into a soothing cadence as if they aren’t forcing Hanzo’s legs apart into a painful split that is burning in his hips and will give him a limp for a few days to come.

They chuckle and murmur sweet endearments like he isn’t drooling down his chin in his desperation of trying to make them understand that they can’t do this. Not again, please-

Huge fingers prod at his tightly furled hole.

“Such a nervous little pet… don’t worry, we’ll work up to my cock this time, hmn? Don’t want to make you bleed again.”

There’s murmurs all around, the others sounding like they are seconding this notion, and Hanzo makes a sound like a sob. He squeezes his eyes shut, squirming in place while he gets fingered open, his treacherous cock standing at attention. It has filled out since the moment Reinhardt had grabbed him by the throat and now he is just hanging off the table with is legs spread wide and those massive fingers rubbing across his hole and then up into his body.

They only finger him long enough to make the pressure and stretch somewhat bearable before the first one grabs his thighs and shuffles between them. Hanzo starts fighting again, then. Someone has opened the shackles on his wrists, so he can scratch and throw punches. The others like it when he’s not completely helpless. They like it when they have to duck out of his range and croon at him soothingly and have to catch his arms and manipulate them gently onto his back.

They like it when they can soothe him. But they like it even more when he fights them.

He might get off. He might lick their fingers and cocks after the third or fourth round. He might thank them with his face wet with tears and drool and snot, but at the end of the day, they are raping him. They are forcing themselves on and into him and they enjoy it.

Hanzo gets shoved around until he’s hanging differently across the table; both his legs and his head just off the edge so that someone can stand in front of him and shove their cock deep enough into his throat that it aches.

It’s Cassidy. Of course it is. The thick smell caught in his pubes is making Hanzo’s eyes water and his stomach do a funny little flip. He’s addicted to the scent just like he’s addicted to the feeling of Soldier shoving into his resisting body.

“Good boy,” Soldier grunts. He’s uncharacteristically sweet when he can gruntfuck into a resisting Hanzo. “Good little pet. That’s it… theeere you go.”

Hanzo can only twitch between them. His legs keep spasming but now that Soldier has forced his way into him, he can’t quite get the wherewithal to really aim his kicks into anyone or anybody in particular.

Cole presses into his throat again. He sighs like he’s sinking into a nice, warm bath, his huge hands on the sides of Hanzo’s face, keeping him steady while Soldier figures out just how deep and how hard he is able to ram into Hanzo’s body already.

Hanzo makes fearful little sounds. They just spill out of him. He tries to claw them all back inside but instead it’s just his hands on Cassidy’s hips, digging his nails in and scratching up thick, red welts.

Lúcio is the one that grabs his wrists and gently pulls them away when Cassidy hisses through his crooked teeth.

Hanzo’s eyes roll in their sockets, desperately trying to impress upon Lúcio that what they’re doing is wrong, but Lúcio just smiles at him.

“It’s alright. I know you don’t understand,” he murmurs in the sweetest voice and with those cute little dimples in his cheeks. He slowly lets go of Hanzo’s hands who lie on the table then, lax and unresisting. Instead, he gently starts petting across his hair. “We’re just here to help you. Oh, don’t look like that. Ah, you’re so cute-”

He leans in and nuzzles against Hanzo’s cheek. Cassidy immediately changes the angle of his thrusts so Lúcio inadvertently nuzzles his cock through Hanzo’s cheek and everybody has a nice, jovial laugh…

The fight bleeds out of Hanzo. He’s covered in a fine sheen of desperate sweat with nothing to show for his efforts other than a cock down his throat and one drilling into his ass. Soldier has impossible stamina. He keeps fucking and fucking and fucking and Hanzo’s insides feel like they’re going liquid and useless.

His cock is so swollen it feels about ready to burst but the thought of coming like a whore on their cocks, being complicit in his own defilement, makes him stubborn as a mule.

Not that anybody cares. They’re all so impossibly gentle to him. They answer his whines with little whines of their own; all ‘I knoooow, baby’ and ‘He still looks so afraid ugh I can barely handle it’ and ‘There, there… we’re only doing this for you, you know?’.

Cassidy pulls out of his throat, followed by a long line of frothy cum that he pulls out of Hanzo’s throat with the drag of his dick.

Hanzo’s tongue is lolling out of his head. It feels swollen. His insides are throbbing around Soldier’s relentless thrusts. His hole feels swollen, too. He imagines it being a plump red mouth for them. A lewd ‘O’ for them to fuck their fat cocks into.

Lúcio takes up Cassidy’s place. He does not mind the mess that the other thoughtlessly wiped off against Hanzo’s cheeks and into the perfectly kept edges of his beard.

Torbjörn takes over Soldier’s place once the old asshole finally pumped out his load. Hanzo is delirious. His head is throbbing from his earlier struggles and the tears he’s been trying to desperately keep down.

Torbjörn is not as long as Soldier, but he is even fatter. He stretches Hanzo until his toes curl, but his legs are tingling and useless and won’t obey him when he tries to kick out again, so he simply… stops trying.

Just lies there and lets them use him until his body’s need crests and he comes like a dog pissing on the ground. He is barely lucid by the point they stop, cum drying tacky and crusty on his skin and intermittent little whimpers slipping from his burning, aching throat.

They still tell him that he’s a good boy. That they’re so proud of him for not fighting them and he just coasts on it while they gather him up and presumably bring him to his room to let him wake up and think it had all just been a bad dream.