werewolf mccree AU (◑ A ◑)
i listened to Animals too many times lmaotbh it’s more like mccree acting like a giant dog rather than a wolf ahahahah i didn’t really get to explore the more animal side(?) /lays down
ALSO speaking of werewolves please read An American Werewolf In London it’s basically what inspired me to draw this. it’s really good /lays down and sobs
For @hsmut who is super amazing and was up to doing a quickie art trade with me~ LOOK AT THEIRS OF MCCREE GETTING A DICKING IT’S SO GOOD. ♥♥ I’m a lucky lucky gal.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
♥////p ////♥!!! such a cute and desperate hanzo!!! thank you so much for the art trade lily!!
have aftercare mchanzo with wolf!McCree because ya’ll seem to like him so much lol (and because in my mind wolf!McCree is the tamest, sweetest little puppydog)
McCree was still whimpering when his cock stopped jerking and Hanzo carefully loosened the tight grip he’d had around his knot and the warm cloth he’d wrapped around it. His insides were feverishly hot, clenching and suckling on Hanzo’s fingers with sated, almost dreamlike slowness.
Hanzo gently kept fucking him on the four digits; rocking in and petting his tender, swollen knot at the same time while carefully watching the scruffy face and the sulfuric glow beneath heavy eyelids.
“Okay?” Hanzo asked, voice pitched low, hand switching from the oversensitive cock to McCree’s hairy thigh to rub against the strong, twitching muscles there.
McCree whined high and canine, body shivering once, then trying to squirm away from the gently rocking fingers. Hanzo hummed tunelessly and pulled out slow and careful, fingertips rubbing against the loose, relaxed muscle in farewell as he stood up from the bed and walked around to look at the man.
McCree looked serene in a way he never did outside of their little games. His mouth was bloody, one tip of a fang still peeking out from beneath his upper lip. When Hanzo started loosening the thick leather straps from around his wrists, he whined once more; pitiful and near-scared.
“Hush,” the archer murmured, helping him pull his arms down and draping them across the man’s hirsute belly, because McCree didn’t have the coordination to do so – and because Hanzo enjoyed caring for him when he was disoriented and out of it; seeking blindly for warmth and reassurance.
McCree never was more animal than when he let Hanzo take him apart; openly begging for affection.
Hanzo rubbed fingertips through the wild tangle of his unkempt beard, sitting down on the side of the mattress.
“For just a moment,” he warned with a voice pitched low, eying the drying mess on McCree’s abdomen. “I will need to wash you.”
McCree turned around, blindly nuzzling his face into Hanzo’s hip before placing a gentle, affectionate bite there. Hanzo sighed softly and petted his unwashed hair with rare tenderness.
Hanzo is contemplating the full moon when he hears the crunching of soft footsteps on the rooftop behind. The cadence of their steady fall is familiar – almost comforting.
McCree’s scent curls around his nose even before the man slowly sits down next to him, legs easily dangling above what would be a certain deadly drop. He always smells warm and of clean sweat, but on these nights, the scent is even deeper; a note of damp dog hair that Hanzo is helpless but to react to – nipples hardening and the hairs on his arms standing at attention.
He watches McCree out of the corner of his eyes. He seems calm. Happy. The wild scruff of his beard has crawled up a little higher on his gaunt cheeks; a hint of fang glints between his lips when he opens them and breathes in deep – scenting the air.
McCree suddenly tilts his head, sick yellow eyes throwing Hanzo a cheeky wink. The archer pretends like he isn’t flustered; like his perusal of the man next to him had been purely coincidental. He turns back to the moon and huffs.
McCree snickers – a deep, rumbling sound somewhere from the back of his throat – and leans in closer to press his nose right beneath Hanzo’s ear and sniff at him. Goosebumps prickles down his body and he pulls in a sharp breath.
The tip of McCree’s nose nudges against the point of Hanzo’s jaw.
“Have you finished your stargazing? Hunting you down has made me… hungry.”
Hanzo’s eyes flutter close, fingers curling tight into his loose hakama. When he feels the quick dip of McCree’s tongue cheekily taking a taste of his salty skin, he can’t help but groan softly.
McCree’s hand is on his; untangling his fingers and guiding his arm over – letting him feel the big, living bulge in his crotch. A knowing push of fingers lets him feel the tender swell at the base of the fat shaft even through the thick material of the jeans.
They both groan in tandem.
“Ah wanna breed,” McCree drawls right against the shell of Hanzo’s ear, and the archer is shamed to admit how the crude demand fans his shy need into an acute want.
He gingerly squeezes his fingers around the swell he can feel, and has trouble swallowing when he imagines how it’ll feel inside him. Heavy. warm. Filling him up and binding him to the spot without any hope of escape in the near future.
“Come,” he rasps. “Quick.”
ana knows. she knows u love her stinky boy, hanzo
lmao i wanted to draw ana when she came out but i drew this instead. there’s gonna be a day where i’ll stop drawing fluffy and cheesy mchanzo but that day is not today
[because I think someone mentioned trans Hanzo and squirting. BOYxBOY YAOI/SLASH DON’T LIKE DON’T READ]Although Hanzo had never discussed the matter with others, loathe to have them make assumptions about him, personal experience had lead him to believe squirting was a myth. He knew pornography exaggerated and lied about how bodies worked, and he’d had orgasms that left him shaky and exhausted for hours after, but he’d never squirted once. Not when masturbating, not with a partner, not even when he’d been so wet he was dripping.
And then Jesse McCree happened.
Jesse with his sun-warmed gravel of a voice, Jesse who was broad and warm and whose smile always reached his eyes.
Jesse who had offered to help him unwind after battle, and when Hanzo said he was trans, just grinned and asked, “So, do I get more places to eat?”
Jesse who didn’t take one orgasm as his cue to stop, who had eaten out Hanzo’s cunt until he was squirming, fucked him slow and deep and sweet until they’d both come, and eaten him out again after.
Hanzo hadn’t been able to grip Jesse’s hair by the end of it, muscles worn weak, and when he got close and clenched his thighs around Jesse’s neck, Jesse had crooked his fingers just so and Hanzo gushed.
There was no other word for it, and he had been alarmed, even humiliated at first before realising the faint smell wasn’t unpleasant – it was almost sweet, if anything – and Jesse looked pleased with himself, not disgusted or amused.
“That hasn’t happened before,” Hanzo said as Jesse wiped them both down with a towel before draping it across the wet patch on the bed.
“There’s a trick to it,” Jesse said, splaying his fingers and wiggling them. “And I know a thing or two about tricks.”
Hanzo would have kissed him senseless if he hadn’t still felt uncomfortable about soaking Jesse’s face.
That discomfort had disappeared since.
Hanzo had been bent over, shoved up against, or spread out on every available surface, and Jesse had taken pride in ensuring he squirted damned near every single time. It had reached the point that Hanzo felt himself get wet anytime he saw Jesse with damp hair, associating the image with Jesse’s face buried between his legs and reacting on instinct.
Hanzo had ridden Jesse’s fingers until he’d been milked dry, until he felt so raw he could still feel Jesse inside him hours after, and Jesse had given and given and given until Hanzo could take no more, and had listened when Hanzo begged him to stop.
“You’re gorgeous when you’re wrecked,” Jesse had said, drying off his hands and face before stretching out at Hanzo’s side. He’d looked like he might have fucked the sun itself, all brown skin, dark hair, and darker eyes.
Hanzo had taken Jesse’s hand, pulled it down between his legs to cup him gently, fingers covering him up instead of pressing in, and said nothing. There wasn’t anything he could think of to say, or even anything he needed to.
The silence was comfortable, and it wasn’t until after they had taken a nap and Jesse finally rolled off the bed to go shower that Hanzo came up with something worth saying.
“Thank you.” Short and sweet and hopefully sufficient.
“It’s my pleasure, darlin’.”
Hanzo stretched out, satisfied and pleasantly wrung-out, thighs splayed to let cooler air reach his cunt, and realised that yes, it really was Jesse’s pleasure. Jesse visibly loved making him come, revelled in the days when Hanzo had soaked him to the elbow, and more than once had stolen Hanzo aside after a battle to get him off without so much as touching himself.
Jesse McCree had happened to him, and every exhausted, sore, fucked-out inch of him could not have been happier.
!!!! !!!thank you for the submission!!! （☉///∀///☉）!!
Hanzo harshly flicks the very tip of McCree’s ear, making him flinch and howl in enraged indignation and pain.
“No, dog. I haven’t given you permission yet.”
He watches McCree in the mirror ahead; the way he gingerly moves his jaw, teeth clacking on the metal bit Hanzo forced between them earlier. He is tilting his head blindly, cheeks flushed a dull red beneath the blindfold.
Hanzo curls the reins once more around his fist, watching how it pulls McCree’s head back; showing off the strong line of his jaw, liberally peppered with stubble. He would need to shave him if he were to sample the dog’s mouth between his legs again, but for now he had other ideas.
Carefully – silently – he places the phone on the floor in front of his stolen treasure.
McCree whines when the motion brings them closer together; Hanzo’s cock slipping into the crack of the dog’s ass, leaving a wet smear at his tail bone before he pulls back once again.
McCree huffs like a stallion and lowers his head, putting its weight on the reins in Hanzo’s hand. Hanzo can see the way his ribs expand with his careful, deep breaths. He delights in how vocal McCree is, and hopes his commander hasn’t hung up yet.
(He doubts he has. Reyes was obsessive enough to want to hear the degradation of his former toy.)
“Do you want this, dog?” Hanzo accompanies the leering question by slapping his cock against McCree’s ass. The mutt shuffles his knees farther apart, back arching down to try and open his ass up farther. Hanzo was quite sure he would have spread his cheeks for him, had his arms not been bound behind his back – pure safety measures.
And as lovely as the sight was – the knowledge that he’d broken the American dog down enough to get him to display like a bitch in heat – it would not do; no, not at all.
Hanzo jerks at the reins, and slaps his other hand against McCree’s thigh, connecting with a loud, satisfying smack.
McCree’s head rears back, a startled shout ripping out of his throat. His head tries to swerve from side to side, disoriented, blood that had rushed from his face, coming back to suffuse his cheeks as his shout dwindled into a moan, lips wet and swollen around the bit digging into the corners of his mouth.
“I asked you a question,” Hanzo goads, voice silky and dripping with venom. He pets a hand down McCree’s sweaty side in a parody of affection, then curls it around his cock once more to help himself slip it through the crack with slow, sensual thrusts. “Do. You. Want. This.”
His fingers tickle McCree’s bound testicles; feeling how warm and swollen they are. Filled with warm, thick cum that the dog had been collecting for a week now.
McCree looks feverish, even with his eyes blindfolded. Drool is slicking down his bottom lip, teeth gnashing on the bit as he shakes his head against the tight reins without any relief. Hanzo’s fist is curled tight around the leather, not giving an inch.
“Yesh,” McCree mumbles, voice wrecked and deep. “Pleashe… gi’ me… gi’ me…”
Hanzo’s fingers trail further up, easily dipping into McCree’s hole; soft and accepting from days of relentless fucking. It feels hot; the rim puffy and nearly inflamed looking. A pretty little thing mouthing weakly at the tip of his cock whenever he deigns to give it to him.
McCree sobs when he feels his captor’s fingers invade his exhausted body; it’s an animal sound; raw and beautiful. Hanzo feels his cock flex at the thought of what it had to do to his commander.
Oh how he wished to be a fly on that particular wall – wherever Reyes had holed himself up, trying to figure out where Hanzo had squirreled away his boy.
Unfortunately for him, a dragon was very skilled at hoarding his treasure.
“You’re so open, still. A few weeks of good use and your body is gagging for cock. You did not have this in your old life, yes? Nobody to take care of your needs. Utilize you like your body craves.”
He is jeering, and he can see the dog’s hackles rise for just a moment before the fight seems to entirely go out of McCree. His voice is cracked, and weepy when he begs, “Please give me your cock? Please, I need your cock; need you to fuck me, need… need… p-p-puh-lease, master?”
He was barely intelligible, his blubbering only adding to the bit between his teeth – but Hanzo felt like the message had been clear enough.
Oh – had it been clear enough.
“Good dogs do get a treat.”
He stares down between them as he starts pressing forward; feeding his cock inch by inch to the hungry, soft hole hugging him warm and tight the deeper he slips.
McCree is groaning mindlessly, weight hanging onto Hanzo’s fist as he starts sagging and not caring about the bit pulling painfully against the corners of his mouth.
It seems like he had finally broken this particular stallion in.
Hanzo fucks him slow and easy. There is no rush and no need for further needling – McCree, trapped in darkness, riles himself up better anyway.
He howls softly with every new gentle nudge inside, body sweating and shaking as he tries to anticipate whatever could come next.
When Hanzo lays his left hand on his right hip with a gentle pat, the dog nearly jumps out of his skin and needs to be – quite literally – reined back in.
He is drooling on the phone, Hanzo realizes dimly, however he is loathe to move and push it farther away. He just hopes it is still working.
—
Reyes is gnashing his teeth, cock angry and hard in his combat pants, fingers digging into the arm rest of his rickety armchair.
He would kill Shimada when he finally got his hands on him. He would kill him slow and painful; make him cry like a babe for his mamá.
But not before fucking his toy in front of his bloodied nose, and showing him how it was done.
Cyberrat Writes 