Okami!Hanzo/Woof!McCree Part 1

I really like this post by @mujaween and @kinkyhanzo and had to write a little something. Tho this is just the first part :3c there should be more parts coming.

The floor of Genji’s tent is covered in expensive carpets. He will only be making a short stop here, far outside the bounds of the bustling city, but he is unwilling to have his prized pet walk on the dirt. While usually this poses no problem, Genji has started to go to great pains ensuring Hanzo’s mood is kept up: everything to ensure a flawless first conception and pregnancy.

This much fuss would be too troublesome if they were to still travel the desert, but for the next year Genji has bought a little mansion within the city bounds – they would stay stationary and safe within easy reach of vets while Hanzo would be able to nest in peace and have his first pups in the lap of luxury.

For now, the lap of luxury for Hanzo is Genji’s lap: stretched out along the chaise lounge, clad in see-through veils that show off his pet’s muscular body while his shoulders are nestled in Genji’s lap and his white fur is getting idly pet.

He can see Hanzo’s thick tail out of the corner of his eyes, wagging softly as he watches the trader’s offer just as impassively as Genji himself is.

The breeding stud is burly and rough, dark brown fur barely brushed into a semblance of submission. He looks like he might have fleas but his muscles seem firm and his gaze is clear beneath the thick fringe. He has a lot of bravado, standing straight with his shoulders square, but his long tail wants to curve traitorously between his thighs.

He is not as uneffected as he wants to make them believe, and Genji is endeared by the notion. He has a soft spot for rowdy pets – the thought makes him idly tug on one of Hanzo’s soft ears.

“You could have made him a little more presentable,” he murmurs, leaning forward. The dog’s bound wrists want to hide the thick cock between his thighs but a tug on the chain has them pulled away so Genji can observe what is on offer while the trader does not rise to the bait. They have done transactions a few times, and he knows by now that Genji’s capricious quips are just to be ignored.

“Impressive,” Genji comments. He reaches out, fingertips lifting the dog’s resting cock. It’s as heavy as it looks, the testicles round and almost swollen looking even encased in thick, dark fur.

Hanzo has pulled back as Genji moved, and watches from the side while the dog lets himself get inspected, strong thighs trembling like a young colt’s. When Genji looks up, he sees the hirsute brute interestedly look Hanzo up and down, ears perked.

“MMMhhh…”, Genji hums and sits back, finger twirling. “I want to see all of him.”

As the dog obediently turns for them, letting them see his back, – Genji is intrigued by the sheer amount of fur; a thick line leading from beneath his hair down his spine and to where his tail protrudes… Hanzo is shockingly naked next to him – he turns towards his prized pup, fingers scratching at the white goatee.

“Do you like him?”

Hanzo’s indifferent mask cracks for a moment, something like uncertainty seen on his features as he casts glimpses at the large canine, then to the big cock gently swinging between his thighs.

He leans up, murmuring his worry into Genji’s ear, and Genji can’t help but laugh, fingertips lovingly tracing the silky edges of Hanzo’s ears.

“He’s not too big, silly. Don’t worry about that.” He can feel his grin getting broader; more predatory as he lets Hanzo lick the tips of his fingers. “If he doesn’t fit, I will make sure of it.”

He turns towards the trader.

“He is perfect. I will have him. What is his name?”

“Jesse, Lord.”

Hanzo is easy for it when he’s starved for dick like he is now; he doesn’t need much – he’s on a constant knife’s edge, thrumming like an engine beneath Jesse and just waiting for an excuse to come quick and dirty.

Jesse is draped across his back, mouth dragging roughly against one exposed, hot ear. His cock is deep inside Hanzo; immovable but girthy, feeling how desperately the archer’s insides try to milk him.

His hands are sandwiched between two nice, plush pecs and the unforgiving steel of the headboard, but he doesn’t have it in him to tell Hanzo to move: he has been pressing his chest and cheek up to the unforgiving wall and steel, crawled up there in desperation as Jesse had started pressing inward, cock stretching him fiercely, and now he is just trapped there it seems; unable to make himself push away and into the cradle of McCree’s hips.

“That’s it,” Jesse mumbles, trying to move his fingers some more. The rough tips are dragging feather light across Hanzo’s pudgy areolas, dipping inside the little slits every now and then to kiss up to the hidden tips of his nipples.

Hanzo’s insides move in tandem; quivering and twitching with every soft touch, mouth open and eyes blank.

Tonight, Jesse will let him have his cock; it is just a test-run, after all; trying to make Hanzo come from nothing but his slutty tits. Soon, he will switch to fingers before trying the real deal.

The little whining sounds Hanzo produces already are a good indication that he will be more than happy to go along with the scheme – but Jesse will have to be gentle. Patient. Give his warm little hole a cock to hug and hold on to until his brain has learned that it doesn’t need to get fucked to get off.

Jesse is positive they will manage.

Big dick Winston with absolutely no idea how to use that thing. Somone like baby slut Genji or Zen or Hanzo just being sooo into watching themselves in a mirror, getting dicked down by this big sweet guy fumbling with his primo dick, awkward pace and barely grazing their prostate and all in all it would be ehn if they weren’t so into themselves. Seeing how humiliatingly wrecked they are for a good cock, not even a good fuck, just ratcheting them up more.

cyberrat:

*drags hands down face* I need to write something for this later; but until then, you all need to stew in it just as I do

“G-Genji… ah…”

“Put it in, c’mon,” Genji wheezes, back arching, pushing out his ass to make his hole gape open, wet and flushed from fucking himself on a big toy before coming to track down his boss.

“I… uh…” Winston is stammering. Genji can see him in the mirror; his glasses crooked and fogged up, spiky hair a mess – but that was not unusual.

His big, blunt fingers are clumsily grabbing at Genji’s supple thighs, eyes trained helplessly on the softly gaping hole offered up to him. He looks as startled as a deer and Genji almost feels pity for him if he wasn’t so annoyed that he had to do everything.

“C’mon, boss,” he whines, rubbing at Winston’s hairy shins where he’s bracing himself on. He would have taken initiative already; just plopped himself down on Winston’s cock; but the dick is too blood heavy to stand up, and Winston had been wheezing so hard when he pulled it out of his boxers that he feared the scientist would come the second he touched it again.

“C’mon,” he wheedles; he sounds young and annoyed, head falling back. He likes Winston, he’s a good guy, and Genji likes the burly thick types anyway – he likes all types, to be exact – but Winston’s wool gathering was starting to get on his nerves when all he wanted was to get spread open nice on that big, veiny dick he’s seen in the lockers.

Finally Winston moves; grabbing a hold of his cock, even though his face looks dubious; like he is unsure of what to do even as he carefully nudges the fat, blunt tip against Genji’s gape.

“Yeah,” Genji sighs, knees spreading farther, hips dipping down to help things along.

He’s already made peace with the fact that he will have to do all the work – which is not exactly his style – but he’s ready for it this time.

The real question is… are you going to continue that human Winston/slutty Zenyatta?

Anonymous said: “

Omg please carry on with the Human Winston stuff!!!

“

Anonymous said: “

That Winston fic has me FUCKED UP. He’s so shy 99% of the time, unable to admit that he’s caught most of the base staring at his bulge at one time or another, but if you push his buttons just right, he’ll wreck you.

“

Y’all are killing me T.T hnngh

but please… Winston is a gentleman. He’d be super nervous and concerned while wrecking shit.

Winston stumbles as Zenyatta urges him backwards, almost grateful when he finally has to sit down on his bed, heat curling through him as his mattress protests loud at his sudden weight.

Zenyatta doesn’t seem to mind. He is still between his knees and rubbing his flushed, sticky face against Winston’s plump, firm stomach like a kitten.

“Please,” he murmurs, glancing up at Winston with dark, needy eyes.

“I… ah-ah… I mean.. uh…” he is casting a nervous glance around his room, looking anywhere but at the monk who is pushing beneath his belly again and kissing with sticky, pouting lips at the flushed tip of his cock.

He can’t believe that he is still hard even after he’s already come so hard – and upsettingly quick – but Zenyatta doesn’t seem put off by the fact.

“So big, still,” Zenyatta purrs. He can’t see too much what with his stomach in the way and his glasses deposited… somewhere, but he can make out the monk’s docile eyes; closed reverently as he slurps, and Winston presses one big palm across his mouth to stifle his low groan.

“Please,” the monk says again, and he sounds so collected. So calm. Winston’s bushy dark brows are pulled together, staring down in shock. “Use my mouth.”

Winston can feel his cock jerk at the words; flexing once and surging up against his belly once more as it slips out of Zenyatta’s surprised grasp.

Zenyatta chuckles; a gentle, indulgent sound before he opens his mouth wide for Winston’s viewing pleasure – showing him the red slip of his pretty, slick tongue – then dips down and swallows down his cock once more, one hand fumbling to curl fingers around Winston’s thick wrist and pull his hand towards the carefully shorn back of his head.

Winston clenches his eyes shut, breathing through clenched teeth as for the second time that day he feels Zenyatta’s throat open up for him laughably easy to let his swollen tip slip down as far as he can go.

He can feel the contractions of the warm throat around him; hear Zenyatta’s soft, wet gagging as he holds the position for a second before pulling back and taking a deep gulp of air.

“Please,” he says with a sweet voice, placing wet kisses over the lower curve of Winston’s hairy belly “Use me.”

Winston doesn’t know if there is someone who could refuse this monk a request.

His hand is big enough to gently cradle the back of Zenyatta’s head, holding him secure as he pulls him towards him carefully, nervous to hurt him as he guides his fat cock back down that tender little place, making it spread around him.

When Zenyatta gags again, he wants to pull away, breath hitching in his chest, an apology already on his tongue – but Zenyatta’s hand is there, clutching at him, making him hold him down.

“Oh dear,” Winston whispers, a little mantra that he forces out as his eyes are clenched shut. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…”

He almost reluctantly follows suit; balls feeling heavy and full as he pulls Zenyatta down on his cock, listening to him gag and choke only for scant fractions of seconds before he hastily lets him come up for air; until, that is, he becomes more needy-

Until his body is on fire as he listens to Zenyatta’s broken, pathetic little moans; the monk so obviously into getting used and throat fucked by a ruddy cock that should be too big to fit anywhere inside his orifices.

He uses Zenyatta like a fleshlight; fucks him down onto his dick, making him suffocate in the thicket of pubes as his cock stoppers up his windpipe.

He feels like he hasn’t come at all yet; like he still has enough cum to make Zenyatta’s belly bloat with it, and from the needy, wet suckling between his thighs, and Zenyatta’s delirious, sloppy moans, he feels like the monk is hoping for just that.

Winston bites his bottom lip, glutes tensing and belly hitching – and then he comes, holding Zenyatta down without thinking about it; making him drink his cum, have it pump down his throat and into his belly without detours, body hot and tingly and electric feeling.

He feels almost corrupted by the monk.

papa-abel:

@cyberrat got me with human!winstonxhuman!zenyatta visuals here & here

Keep reading

Winston is just about to step into his shower when the epiphany comes to him; the solution about how to improve the launchers on his armor that liked to sputter to a halt every now and then.

He immediately turns away from the stall, haphazardly grabbing his glasses on his way out, mind already running through the calculations.

It should be working if he hadn’t made a mistake…. there definitely was a possibility that…

“Oh, Winston, I-”

He cries out in surprise, flinching back against the doorframe of his bathroom. He fumbles with his glasses, trying to put them back onto his nose, though the motion is just ingrained at this point – he already knows who has wandered into his room; Zenyatta’s voice was easy to recognize.

“Z-Zenyatta,” he stutters, glasses a little crooked on his nose as he missed one ear, staring at the monk who is looking him up and down in interest, an enigmatic smile on his face. “What are you doing in here?”

A gentle breeze slipping through between his thighs and tickling the heavy sway of his cock and balls, brings an immediate, embarrassed heat into his cheeks. Quickly he pulls back, big hands coming forward to shield himself before the monk’s dark, docile eyes that look at him so very unabashedly.

“I merely wanted to give you a little present for your help with my orbs the other day, but…”

Winston can now see the large jar of peanut butter in Zenyatta’s slim hands, face contorting at the unfortunate wording of the thin monk. He shuffles backwards, trying to find the door to his bathroom again which should be right behind him, but for some reason his ass is only hitting the cold wall.

“…I think I can do a little better than that,” Zenyatta concludes with a sunny smile, sitting the sticky treat down on Winston’s table, strewn with folders and old fashioned books.

Helplessly, Winston watches him, heart thundering in his chest as Zenyatta comes closer with a spring in his step and an expression that looks so thoroughly satisfied with life that Winston wonders whether he actually slipped in his bathroom and slammed his head on the ground. Maybe he had a severe concussion and this was some kind of grotesque feverdream induced by… by…

Zenyatta is so close now, patting Winston’s cheek and scratching through his beard before reaching up and plucking the crooked glasses from his nose.

“I, uh-uh… I uhm…” Winston can’t make his mouth work, staring in helpless mortification as Zenyatta lowers himself into a crouch right before him, that lovely brown face with round cheekbones and curvy lips immediately hidden behind the hard, generous swell of Winston’s gut.

“A-Agent,” he stutters out, voice a low, embarrassed rumble as he feels one long-fingered hand lift his junk and hold it in a warm cradle atop his palm.

“You smell so good,” he can just about hear Zenyatta murmur, his breath tickling the generous bush of hair beneath his belly. The knowledge of how close the monk is – close enough that Winston can feel it on the ruddy skin of his dick – is making his mouth run dry.

“I haven’t- I haven’t showered yet,” he whispers faintly. Zenyatta’s other arm has come up and his hand is petting across the hairy swell of his stomach, pressing in with the heel of his hand as if to feel how firm it is; thick muscles beneath the skin. It’s… it feels reverent, and Winston flushes up to his hairline, one paw-like hand grabbing downwards blindly and holding helplessly onto the thin forearm.

“P-Please…”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” Zenyatta answers with a supreme sense of serenity. His head nestles closer beneath the swell of Winston’s stomach, and his knees become weak as he feels the monk’s nose and mouth against the silky skin of his cock, inhaling deeply. “Had I only known…”

Zenyatta interrupts himself, and Winston’s highly intelligent mind stalls like one of his launchers, wondering what that would have changed… what that knowledge would have given Zenyatta-

He can’t remember the last time he had gotten a blowjob. He can’t even remember the last time he had felt the need to try and awkwardly woo someone to coax them into his bed. Winston does not need it much, is most of the time very content with his hands – but the feeling of Zenyatta’s wet little mouth first lapping, then suckling on the head of his dick is… it is…

“‘S good,” Winston whispers shyly, eyes closed, panting softly as he listens to the obscene suckling sounds as Zenyatta lets him slip deeper, unselfconsciously pressing his face into the fold between his crotch and his belly, trying to get as close as possible as Winston’s cock grows; swelling to life insistently inside the tight little cave.

He whimpers, thumb rubbing mindlessly across the thin wrist of the arm he is still holding onto. His belly is filled with liquid heat, breath stuttering as he can feel himself pop past the restraint of the monk’s throat, heart trying to burst out of his chest as he realizes how easily Zenyatta is taking him despite a bit of wet, delicious gagging.

He’s taking his girthy dick like a well-seasoned whore, and the knowledge makes him slap his free hand over his face, whimpering behind his broad palm as he comes embarrassingly fast, the orgasm taking him by surprise.

He can hear Zenyatta choke as thick strings of cum suddenly splash against the back of his throat, and tries to apologize with humiliation heating his whole body up. All he manages are meaningless stutters while his still jerking cock abruptly slips out of the coughing monk’s lovely little mouth.

“Don’t- ah. Don’t worry yourself,” Zenyatta assures, deep voice suddenly no longer smooth but rough, and Winston feels with mortification how his cock is flexing at the sound – at the knowledge that… that he did that to a… a… a monk…

It is not going soft yet; the fat length of it snuggled against the lower curve of his belly and smearing the fur there with spit and cum. When he looks down at the lovely face peering up at him, Zenyatta’s round cheekbones dark with a flush and strings of Winston’s cum on the serenely smiling face, the scientist wants to sink into the ground in shame.

“This is quite alright,” Zenyatta assures him, his dark eyes trailing down, staring at the fat, ruddy tip pointing directly at him with a kind of single-minded intent that Winston had only ever witnessed in cats about to pounce. “Please, I just…”

And he reaches out again, those thin, long fingers curling lovingly around the dark shaft, and Winston chokes on nothing at all.

Dom!Akande bottoming for a jittery virgin service top (Lucio maybe?). Purring like a housecat and coaxing his partner through it, telling him how good he’s doing. Big, gorgeous Akande sprawled in the sheets and letting his sub do all the work.

His kitten hadn’t been expecting this.

They’ve spent their evening like so many others, quietly in front of the large TV, the news continuously playing as Akande sipped at his wine and Lúcio kneeled between his legs, lulled into a dopey half-sleep as big, blunt fingers rubbed behind his ears.

He had thought they’d end this night as they did others: Lúcio hugging one of the big, luxurious pillows to his chest as he got held down and made to take Akande’s fat, heavy cock, eyes narrowed to slits as he drooled into the fabric, feeling the cock stretch his guts slow an inexorable.

Akande delights in the little whines of his kitten, stretching slowly, showing off the powerful curves of his body, big round muscles trembling as he holds the tension for a few seconds before letting go. He lies with his arms up over his head; making himself defenseless, thick thighs spread to accommodate Lúcio’s slim hips as the kitten held onto his sturdy waist.

His cock was a warm, comfortable stretch, rim generously slick; stretched lovingly by Lúcio’s quick, clever fingers. This, at least, he had been accustomed to: Akande liked feeling the nimble digits inside him, patiently rounding his prostate as Lúcio dutifully nuzzled and drooled around his cock, docile brown gaze looking up at him with nothing short of adoration.

Being allowed to fuck, however – that was new.

Akande closed his eyes, stretched out his throat; letting Lúcio play without his intense gaze intimidating him.

Still, he could feel the sleek, pretty cock flex inside him already; near twitching as Lúcio’s hips stuttered and his voice cracked on a pathetic, breathy moan.

Akande moved lazily, insides clenching; hugging around the lovely cock of his submissive – and Lúcio falls forward, frantically whining “Nonono, don’t” as his blunt fingernails scratch across the large expanse of Akande’s chest. A kitten marking up the large, predatory cat.

“You’re doing so well,” Akande assures him, voice measured, a faint lilt of amusement to it. “So good and obedient for me.”

When he looks, Lúcio’s eyes are clenched shut, his teeth buried in his bottom lip. He tries hard to stave off his orgasm; tries so valiantly to be good for him – but it only takes three sloppy, jerky thrusts before he comes; getting Akande warm and sticky inside as he groans and shudders through his little premature orgasm.

“That’s quite alright,” Akande purrs, reaching for him; large palm cupping the side of Lúcio’s face and blunt fingertips rubbing behind his ear. “We have all night.”

for some fic inspiration perhaps, i present: “Hanzo/Angelo: Tit Appreciation” jazz hands

Anonymous said: “

Are we talking about Hanzo’s tiddies now? Because Hanzo letting his partner suck on and tease his puffy inverted nips in an attempt to get them erect is my religion. His nips barely even poke out they’re so shy but his partner never gives up trying and they just get even more swollen, red and over sensitive *clenches fist*”

Hanzo is hot for their new medic. Everybody knows that; everybody but sweet Angelo.

Everybody but him.

.o.

“Mr. Shimada. What brings you here? Are you feeling sick?”

“Not directly, no.”

Angelo looks up from the clipboard he has close to his chest, scribbling notes already. He stares at Hanzo a little puzzled, maybe; eyes big and mouth soft as he stares at him sitting on the edge of the examination table.

Hanzo looks relaxed; even more so than if he met him outside in the hallways. It almost looks like he is smirking, which makes goosebumps break out on the doctor’s arms.

“I… ah… what? I mean-” he scrambles for words, pressing the clipboard to his chest like a shield as he watches Hanzo’s face shift into something more predatorily satisfied. “If you don’t feel sick, why…”

“I feel like my heart is not quite behaving.”

Angelo falls silent, frowns, arms relaxing a bit. Hanzo leans back a tad, easily bracing himself on his hands, feeling the crinkly paper covering the examination table.

“Your heart?”

“My heart. Doctor.”

Hanzo moves, shifting his weight onto one arm, and laying his free hand onto his chest. Angelo’s dark eyes follow the motion immediately, staring as Hanzo touches his own skin, heart first skipping a beat, then thumping quick and distractingly as he watches him… watches him… c-caress himself, palm cupping his plush pectoral muscle.

“Here.”

A long moment stretches between them, Hanzo watching with a secret smirk as the medic stares at him; watches him squeeze his tit for his viewing pleasure.

“Don’t you want to listen to it?”

Angelo jerks out of his reverie, his dark cheeks coloring with a hectic flush. His eyes flick up to Hanzo’s face, then back down again.

“Excuse me?”

“My heart… don’t you want to listen to it beat?”

“I… yes. I… think so.”

Hanzo is outright grinning as the doctor turns, looking around his room with an obvious difficulty to remember what he needs. Finally he realizes the stethoscope is hanging around his neck and turns back around with a snap, hand up, clutched around its ends as his face heats up even more.

The sight of Hanzo slipping out of his right sleeve has him stumped again, however; standing and watching helplessly as the archer pulls free of the garment, sitting with his chest on display open and unashamed. His nipples draw Angelo’s attention despite himself: their flesh a dusky pink, areolas plump, no – pudgy, even, with the little tips hidden inside and creating a sweet little slit in their midst.

Hanzo preens underhanded, a self-satisfied smirk curling one side of his mouth as he tenses his biceps and frames his chest, pecs pushing together for the doctor’s viewing pleasure, even though Angelo’s gaze falls quickly to the floor, flustered by the display as he pulls the stethoscope from around his neck.

“I… yes. If you would just… uh…” he trails off, dark, smooth fingers playing with the flat end, gaze drifting from it back to Hanzo’s chest.

“Yes. Please,” Hanzo says smoothly, reaching out and grabbing Angelo’s wrist. He pulls it close, deeply pleased at how easily the doctor lets himself get manipulated, even stepping forward and between Hanzo’s knees; towering over him with his pleasing height and broad chest and round shoulders.

Hanzo can just imagine him above him when he fucks; his face so drawn, a little crease of earnest focus between his eyebrows as he tries to be good for Hanzo; fuck him well and good, deep dick him so he’d enjoy it most-

Yes. Hanzo can imagine Doctor Mercy to be as accommodating to him as possible.

He has pressed the cool circle of the stethoscope to his chest, watching Angelo’s rapt attention as he cups his palm warm and inviting over the back of the man’s hand, pressing it flat against him, the stethoscope pressed between his palm and Hanzo’s chest.

“Can you hear it, Doctor?” Hanzo murmurs, showing teeth in a sharp little grin as Angelo dutifully nods, the other end of the device still clamped around his neck instead of in his ears.

“Do you think something is wrong with me?”

He gently tucks the stethoscope out of the way with his other hand, letting Angelo feel his chest; the swell of his pec. He looks into his flushed, flustered face as he guides his hand over, lets his fingertips drag across the silky, fat mound of his left nipple.

Hanzo’s eyes fall closed, nostrils flaring as he draws in a deep breath.

“No,” Mercy murmurs, his hand finally moving on its own; thumb gently swiping across the pudgy areola. “Everything is alright, Mr. Shimada…”

It is laughably easy to pull him down, the tall body folding to his every whim. He can feel the heat of his shy flush radiating off of him like a furnace, but he does not struggle against Hanzo’s gentle grip that guides him towards his nipple; holding his head steady until his tongue slips out, flicking quick and skittish across his skin.

“That’s it,” Hanzo murmurs throatily, head falling back. It’s not long until Angelo is nursing on him; the sharp edges of his teeth gentle squeezing around the fat, soft skin; the tip of his tongue unbelievably cheeky is it dips into the shallow little slit and tries so valiantly to coax out the nipple hidden there.

The sensation is maddening and tickling, sending shocks of pleasure through his body as Hanzo’s other hand desperately plays with the other tit; squeezing and pinching mean and frantic as he tries to match the sensation on the other side.

His cock is hard and weeping; pressing against his hakama and tenting it obscenely as Angelo nurses and plays with his tit; suckling with increasing strength until tears spring to Hanzo’s eyes. When he finally pops off with a loud, obscenely succinct sound, and blows cold air against it in a bid to get it to peak for him, Hanzo comes with a hoarse cry, fingers digging into Angelo’s shoulders, holding the doctor close to him as he shudders through his climax and wets his trousers with warm, sticky pulses of cum.

As he blinks his eyes open blearily, the good Doctor’s troubled, flushed face swims into view.

“M-Mr. Shimada?”

“Ah…” Hanzo smirks and slips off the examination table, sighing as he stretches luxuriously. He sees Angelo’s eyes staring at his puffy, abused nipples and smirks as he slips back into his sleeve.

He nods towards the younger man, slipping from between him and the cot.

“Thank you, Doctor. I feel better already. I will see you next week for more… examinations, won’t I?”

He reaches out, palming the warm bulge in the Doctor’s pants; feeling his cock flexes strong and thick against the palm of his hand. He pats it lovingly before pulling back, Angelo’s face lax and startled on a whole nother level.

“I… ah… ah… I mean…”

Hanzo smirks at him and turns, strolling out, the Doctor’s sweet stammering in his ear.

Hanzo is purring like an engine, low and steady as he crawls all over the huge Alpha he had found on his vacation in Europe. The little village he and Genji had stepped into on random was full of rain and grey clouds but he quite liked the quiet, sleepy atmosphere.

There is nothing quiet about the soldier’s stationed here, however. They are… huge and Hanzo wants them on a deep, visceral level that makes him almost dizzy.

Naturally, he has them as soon as he can get Genji interested in one of their lady soldiers, his brother’s eyes lighting up like a child in a candy store as he sees the female soldier, just as huge and hulking as the other Alphas in her special division.

The Alpha he is scenting all over, rubbing his sleek body against without a shred of embarrassment, is barely daring to touch him. Hands of the size of frying pans are fluttering across his shoulders, arms, the small of his back, rubbing rough fingertips across his skin fleetingly before pulling back again quickly.

The agonized creaking of the floorboards to his right makes him turn his head, watching as another of the huge soldier’s comes closer. He is a gorgeous specimen; more streamlined handsome than the one Hanzo is marking up at his possession, but just as much Alpha as the one Hanzo is sitting on. Balderich he had said, but Hanzo couldn’t quite get the soft, throaty sound at the end right. The other one’s name was just as much a mouth full and he had immediately decided he wouldn’t even try.

They are toys, after all. He’ll have to leave them behind when he and Genji decide they’re bored and want to keep travelling.

“See something you like, Alpha?” Hanzo purrs, knees angling outtward, spreading his thighs for the large man to see the wetness between them.

“Oh yes… yes, I do,” the blond Alpha enthuses, eyes so very blue and sweet that Hanzo wonders how old he is. The thought of this huge Alpha being younger than him has a thrill running down his spine, the small of his back curving into an inviting little cup as he angles his ass up, following the electricity along his nerve endings.

Showing himself off.

He is still purring invitingly; an Omega courting all the Alphas in the vicinity with low, throaty sounds. Amorous.

Balderich is touching him again; a little more sure this time. His English isn’t as good as the younger Alpha’s but Hanzo quite likes to listen to him murmur; likes the way the words sound as he whispers them to him with a reverence that lets him know he is being pampered and cherished.

“So ein zartes Geschöpf… Hübscher Omega…” And while he is crooning at him, curling one finger that’s as fat as a sausage underneath Hanzo’s chin to scratch at the well groomed beginnings of a beard, the others slip between his cheeks gentle but sure, pressing a broad fingertip against Hanzo’s slick, swollen opening.

Hanzo mewls, stretching into the touch, face slack and satisfied at the beginnings of the insane stretch that was promised. Another creak distracts him, makes him look toward the Alpha that’s been creeping closer, mouth a little open, cheeks flushed – but holding his distance around an invisible barrier.

“Don’t you like me, Alpha?” Hanzo whines, bracing himself on Balderich’s wide chest and pushing himself up, chest squished invitingly between his biceps. “Don’t you want to touch me?”

“God, I do…” the pretty Alpha groans and steps closer, breaching whatever unspoken line they had drawn, and immediately Balderich shifts beneath Hanzo, his growl deep and ferocious and all encompassing. It vibrates through the Omega’s fingertips and up his arms, almost making his teeth chatter together as the formerly docile old Alpha bares his teeth at the other, finger pushing into the creamy soft insides of the Omega with a rude force that makes Hanzo’s breath stutter and his purr peter out for a moment as his toes curl and his insides alight with pleasure.

The younger Alpha grows pale, taking a quick step back. He looks chastised even though he still stares at Hanzo with blatant hunger.

Hanzo feels on top of the world. He’s had Alphas fight for him before, back in Hanamura, but never ones like this: huge creatures that look like they would wreak havoc if they crashed into each other like landslides.

Like they could snap Hanzo’s back if they were just a little too lenient with their strength.

“You’re not allowed to touch,” Hanzo gloats, lowering his upper body and rubbing his face teasingly against the rough, curling hair on Balderich’s huge, scarred chest. His hips are still up, rolling gently into the fat finger fucking him and making him see dots in his vision.

The forlorn, punched expression on the young Alpha’s face makes his cock jerk, dribbling messily into the thick, generous trail of hair growing out of Balderich’s navel and vanishing into his tight pants. Hanzo is the only one of them completely naked, but he’s never felt more in charge than when watching a young, upstart Alpha want him so bad he’s stinking up the place but not daring to put a finger on him in fear of another more competent pack leader.

“What a pity, Alpha…”

Hanzo makes sure to let him see the swollen ring of his hole, dark pink and needy as it suckles at the thick finger fucking him. He stares right into the young Alpha’s face as he mewls for Balderich and rubs himself all over him; is sweet and docile for the old, scarred Alpha that’s downright ugly next to this gorgeous specimen-

but the young Alpha doesn’t dare step any closer, and lets himself get willingly ridiculed by this little foreign Omega.

Reinhardt watches Hanzo’s face as he carefully leans back, the minimal jostle making Hanzo cry out in alarm, hands scrabbling at the massive, scarred shoulders.

“Langsam,” Reinhardt mutters, one large hand curling around Hanzo’s hip, holding him securely in place. The tight clench of his body is maddening; hot and silky as it trembles nervously around the first few inches of his cock.

“Don’t hurt yourself, little one.”

His other hand paws around Hanzo, feeling the tight clench of his glutes, then slipping into he crack to feel the impossible stretch of his hole. It twitches pathetically at the touch of blunt fingertips, then gives up the fight once more.

Hanzo leans forward on a whine, putting his weight unselfconsciously against Reinhardt’s chest.

“O…” he breaks off, pants like a dog, wet and fast, then swallows and tries again: “Otosan…”

Reinhardt chuckles, Hanzo bouncing with the motion of his ribcage as if he were a mere doll.

“So formal… Are you shy? Don’t you want to show off for our audience?”

Hanzo hides his face against Reinhardt’s throat, not chancing a glance towards McCree not far off, cock out and fisted in his big hand.

Reinhardt hums and takes a firm hold of Hanzo’s hips, slowly moving him despite him crying out once more, blunt fingernails scratching and tugging painfully at his chest hair.

He always becomes so frightful when taking Reinhardt’s cock, as if forgetting in the time in between that he can do it; that his body will yield to the unimaginable stretch and let itself get used like a big warm fleshlight.

McCree groans somewhere to the side, moving to better see the action: how Hanzo’s rim gets dragged outward whenever Reinhardt pulls out, the muscle obscenely swollen and pouty around the girth.

Somewhere down the line Hanzo forgets to be self-conscious and sings for them – low and guttural chants of Daddy mouthed sloppily against one of Reinhardt’s nipples, nose buried in the thick curling hair surrounding it.

McCree is immediately there when he pulls out later: watching the wet slide of Reinhardt’s cock slipping free and the thick gush of cum dripping after immediately.

Hanzo is lying on top of his daddy, boneless and fucked out, limbs hanging listlessly as he lets Reinhardt hold him in a bear hug.

He rouses minimally when McCree smears his cock through the mess dripping out of him, but he calms again when Reinhardt presses a prickling kiss against his forehead.

“Damn he’s stretched out,” Jesse grits out between clenched teeth, “Got fucked good by his Pa.”

“Just like good boys deserve,” Reinhardt confirms, large hand stroking across Hanzo’s head, then returning to holding him steady for Jesse’s increasingly hard, grunting thrusts as he tries to chase his own orgasm in the mess of cum and lube left behind.

I love the combo of big, soft, hairy McCree and needy, touch-starved Hanzo, I like the thought of McCree being used as Hanzo’s own personal teddy bear when he’s stressed out because Jesse’s just so warm and comfy and affectionate that everything is instantly better when they cuddle and/or snugglefuck, nobody’s better for it than Jesse

oh… my god… snugglefuck is such a good word though? ffff

“Jesse…” Hanzo’s voice is strained, lilting up and whiny sounding as he mindlessly reaches back, trying to grab a hold of McCree’s sturdy hips.

Jesse hums, lets him flail and squirm ineffectually – there isn’t anywhere much that Hanzo can go when McCree is making him bear his full weight, chest pressed against the archer’s shoulder blades and face snuggled into the loose, wild hair at the back of his head.

“‘m right here,” he murmurs and grabs the blanket when it threatens to slide off, pulling it back up and over their shoulders to keep their space swelteringly hot with their body heat.

“Clench your thighs some more, hm?”

Hanzo makes a long, wordless sound, face pressed into the pillows, blunt nails scratching the fat at McCree’s hips as he digs his fingers in deeper and does as he’s told; tightening the slick, hot space around McCree’s lazy cock.

Jesse sighs, breath ruffling the fine hairs of Hanzo’s beard. He doesn’t quite move on his own – mostly uses the gentle bounce of the mattress to fuck Hanzo’s thighs, but from the sounds of it, it seems to be more than enough for the archer.

He is trying to squirm, but only to feel the grounding weight of Jesse pressing down on him, restricting not only his movement but also his breathing to some degree.

It doesn’t take long until his motions become slow and sluggish; a little drowsy and out of it as he turns his head and nuzzles against the scruffy side of McCree’s face.

Hanzo always needs a bit of a fight; a bit of being wrestled into it until he can let go and let himself enjoy the quiet intimacy, but Jesse doesn’t mind. It’s enough to roll on top of the archer most of the time, and it never takes long until he has a sleepy kitten beneath him.