Tag: mccree/hanzo

Mcree in spandex?

Hanzo stops and just watches, arms hanging loosely at his sides, fingers nearly losing their grip in his bow. His gaze skims across McCree, then once more – slower, more scrutinizing.

“What… are you wearing?” He wants it to sound sharp. An admonishment to McCree’s constant foolishness. Instead, he breathes it out on what sounds like a sigh. It sounds soft and choked like he has trouble breathing.

He does have trouble breathing.

“Oh… jus’ a stupid little thing I used to wear in my Blackwatch days. Was’ jus’ wonderin’ whether it still fits. Thought it might be nice beneath the armor.”

He is looking at the mirror and turning this and that way. Hanzo watches as he raises his big hands and lays them across his gut; takes the roll of fat in hand and jiggles it.

Hanzo feels a hot flash run through his body, throat going tight.

“You look ridiculous,” he says, eyes fixed on the way McCree pinches the chub at his sturdy hips. His belly feels hot thinking about how gratifyingly thick McCree feels in his arms when they fuck. Heavy. Pressing Hanzo down into whatever surface they were fucking on. 

McCree just grins at him distractedly and then turns back to the inspection of his own body. His cock is a big, chubby bulge between his legs, gently bouncing with his every step.

“Are you not wearing underwear?!” Hanzo hisses. He can feel the tips of his ears start to burn.

“NNNnnnope, pardner.”

“You’re disgusting.” 

Hanzo scowls when McCree only laughs. A happy, deep laugh that comes from his belly and makes it move beneath the tight spandex. It bounces; fat but not weak. It is spring steel – Hanzo knows it.

“Yeah. Whatever, babydoll.” He reaches down and grabs the bulge of his cock unashamedly through the thin material and hefts it’s weight in the palm of his hand. “Y’ can peel me out of it later if y’ wanna. I’m gonna put on my armor and go to the practice range for a couple hours.”

Hanzo’s scowl deepens in time with the fire in his belly. He makes a harsh, disgusted sound in the back of his throat.

“Americans.”

… Later, he is on time to help a sweaty McCree out of the tight body suit.

I really wanted to find a more elegant solution to work my hc for this into the fic but to do that would’ve necessitated to write a bigger thing which is not going to happen lol

so my hc for this is that daddy Shimada had Hanzo genetically enhanced with cat genes for dat ninja boost yo. side effects included Hanzo developing certain feline characteristica :O

McCree liked leaving his long glove on when he… well… when he bred Hanzo. (He supposed that was the most fitting word for what they were doing when Hanzo was like this. Growling and arching beneath him; trying to get him to fuck him just as much as he was trying to scratch his eyes out if McCree wasn’t on top of his game.)

Hanzo liked to bite, and McCree liked to preserve his one remaining hand, so the glove was a welcome necessity. Hanzo could sink his sharp fangs into the leather and hold on, silky black ears laid back flat against his head as he got fucked, mounted, bred by McCree.

He still couldn’t quite believe it. Even bend across Hanzo’s sweaty back, one arm shoved against his mouth to give him something to bite while the other one was curled around his heaving belly, not letting him get away – McCree still couldn’t believe that this was real. There was a black, agile tail writhing against his stomach, looking for the best position to lie in, and oh boy hadn’t that been a surprise the first time he got Hanzo out of his wide, loose clothes.

Hanzo’s in heat, he thought sometimes, indistinctly and without really thinking about what that really meant. Hanzo’s body was a warm, insistent clutch around his cock, sucking him in in in and working him over with needy, slick muscles that clenched down and massaged but were loathe to let him go again.

His whole body was a trap; pretty and laid out, writhing just for Jesse’s benefit – or so he thought – and freezing on the spot with Hanzo growling low and threatening whenever he dared to actually touch; trying to sample the goods laid out before him.

It was the most delicious kind of torture.

Hanzo wanted to get filled up and warmed from the inside; a strange animal need telling him to produce offspring even if that was impossible, and he magnanimously allowed McCree to help him.

McCree was nothing but an assistant to Hanzo’s greed, and he couldn’t say that he was put out by it, even if he thought that just one kiss to the back of Hanzo’s neck wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it?

One hand stroking through his hair, giving comfort when Hanzo’s little sex sounds started to turn desperate and a little afraid of his own body’s gluttonous need, wouldn’t hurt, now… would it? (and maybe, just maybe, rubbing one of those silky ears between his fingers for once?)

Hanzo didn’t seem to be on the same page. He rutted back, mindless and eager, fucking himself onto McCree’s dick and yowling his need into the room after finally letting go of Jesse’s pounding arm. It sounded dissonant and melodious at the same time; just as contradictory as the whole recalcitrant creature he had shivering beneath him.

How did one go about taming himself a feline?

yo. almost kind of crack? virgin!McCree getting a blowjob from Hanzo… 

OR DOES HE?!

“Ah… A-A-Ah don’t know about this, pardner,” McCree mumbled, studiously staring at the ceiling instead of at Hanzo crouched between his thighs, fingers working on his belt.

When Hanzo looks up at him, annoyed at McCree’s… everything, he sees him quickly dart a glance at his chest, then looking away once more with his scruffy cheeks getting darker with a furious blush.

Hanzo squints at him; confused at McCree’s sudden bashfulness after weeks and weeks of little playful innuendos and harmless flirting – and then that shower last week in which Hanzo had gotten a glimpse of what Jesse was packing and his idle interest had fanned into a sudden, white hot fire of want.

“What is there not to know about?” he asks sharp, unwilling to play along with whatever little game McCree was thinking of now. His hand was on the big, warm bulge of McCree’s cock. He could smell the warm body and faint sweat; saliva flooding his mouth as he thought about the salty tang he’d have on his tongue in a few moments. How wide the meaty cock would spread him open, how heavy it would be on his tongue.

“Ah’m not quite… Ah mean…” His eyes flick down again, staring at Hanzo’s face peering up at him regal and handsome, then slide farther down to stare at his chest. He stops speaking and just looks at Hanzo’s pecs. He seems transfixed by the fact that he could see both after Hanzo had slipped out of his yukata.

A smug, little grin tugged at the corners of Hanzo’s mouth. He hid it behind the whiskers of his beard by tilting his head forward and over McCree’s crotch.

The shorts were already damp when Hanzo petted across it, getting himself riled up and excited by the contours of McCree’s dick. He slipped curious fingers through the slit in the front, and warm humidity greeted him, apart from coarse, thick pubes that he gave a gentle scratch around the thick base of the cock which had McCree jerking and nearly knee him in the ribs.

“McCree.”

“S-Sorry. Uh. Sorry. Yeah. Alright. So this is… happenin’, I guess?”

Hanzo grunted in affirmation, not paying too much attention to McCree himself because he finally made acquaintance with what he’d wanted to meet for days now. McCree’s cock practically leaped into his hand; sliding between his fingers silky and strong as Hanzo gingerly freed it from his boxers.

He sat back on his haunches, thumb idly rubbing just beneath the swollen, dark head. McCree’s cock was gorgeous, he was almost loathe to admit; flexing in his grip, skin feeling tacky with the pre-cum dribbling from the slit. 

Hanzo felt an excited sizzle in his belly at seeing how wet McCree got. He should’ve known the American would be… ah… messy.

“Disgusting,” he murmured, voice thrumming with excitement. He leaned forward, daintily tonguing at the wet head, the saltiness of the pre-cum exploding on his taste buds. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders start to loosen.

Sucking cock always relaxed Hanzo.

A choked-off sound from above had him slant his gaze upwards, not too interested in McCree’s silliness now that he finally had his hands on his prize.

What he saw, though, gave him a little pause; enough so to draw slightly back, eyebrows drawn together in mild annoyance. McCree wasn’t even looking at him anymore. In fact, he’d crammed his silly hat onto his face, inhaling – as far as Hanzo could tell – heavily into it’s confines in between high, doggishly whining sounds.

Why wasn’t he looking at him? What was wrong with this silly cowboy?

Hanzo huffed, both hands now around McCree’s cock, idly squeezing it a little between his palms.

“McCree. Look at me.”

“Ah’d… rather not,” he groaned behind his hat. He wasn’t sitting still, either. His hips were moving as if trying to twist away; wriggling a little, then nudging up as if shyly trying to fuck between Hanzo’s fingers.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Hanzo snapped. He waited for McCree to finally push his hat back where it belonged and gingerly peek down at him with glassy eyes, before he was satisfied and leaned forward once more, satisfied that he had an audience.

His belly clenched tight in need, finally able to get his lips around McCree and suck his delightful cock. He’d take his time. Savor this moment and make McCree stop with his antics so he’d…

Everything happened so fast, though. Hanzo barely registered the pained whine above him before McCree’s cock jerked in the strangling grip of his hands, cum splashing out in lazy, messy dribbles that hit Hanzo’s chin and throat just as much as the knuckles of his frozen hands.

He stared, dumbfounded, at McCree’s cock. He could feel cum soaking into his beard and sliding down his skin.

“Oh… d-damn… S-Sorry, pardner,” McCree stuttered. Hat in his hands once more, holding it in front of his chest.

“…What.”

Hanzo gets his sensetiv nipples pierced

“You’re a slutty drunk,” Jesse whispers. It sounds reverent; like he’s just thanking the gods while he stares down at Hanzo crumpled on the bed, trying to touch his sore looking nipples and getting needy and frustrated when it hurts more than he usually enjoys.

“You’re a fuckin’ slutty drunk who gets his tits pierced when he ain’t supervised.” He’s babbling and McCree knows it, but he’s never been good at any brain-to-mouth filter, especially when he’s helplessly horny like now; watching Hanzo groan in drunken frustration, hand gingerly cupped beneath his pec.

He’s red-faced and bleary-eyed and stinks of a mixture of sake and beer… and it’s right up Jesse’s alley.

He has no idea when Hanzo even managed to stumble away from their little camp on the back of the base, leaving McCree, Torbjörn and Tracer to drink on their own, and he has no idea how Hanzo managed to get his nipples pierced – but he ain’t complaining. Oh he ain’t complain’, pardner.

“McCree!” Hanzo hisses. He arches his back and struggles out of the sleeve of his yukata that’s been hanging off of his arm improperly for a while now. If he’d intended to say more – probably some ill-tempered order – he never did so. Rather, he became distracted by his own chest again; staring down at his pecs and squinting at the puffy, raised flesh of his nipples.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Jesse drawls, crawling onto the bed. He grips Hanzo’s wrist before he can touch his chest again and presses the hand down onto the bed with a firm, warning squeeze. Hanzo tries to sneer at him, but it ends up being a cross-eyed look of helplessness instead as he arched and curled his hips up, mashing his hard cock against McCree’s crotch.

“Subtle,” Jesse murmurs, eyes travelling down the flush on Hanzo’s throat towards his pecs. His nipples, usually tan, were an angry red from Hanzo’s inebriated poking, the endings of the bar piercings glinting invitingly next to the pouty nub.

Jesse tried imagining them clamped in the cold metal of the piercer’s special tongue, but his brain fried at the picture it came up with. Had Hanzo been groaning when it happened? Had he gotten hard on the chair, because he got off on his own lewdness?

“You’re killin’ me,” Jesse murmurs and dips down to dance the tip of his tongue along the swollen, puffy areola, just because it was begging for it. Hanzo hisses and jerks, one arm coming up with his hand balled into a fist as if to strike Jesse on the side of the head – but ends up just gripping his shaggy hair and pulling on it to press him closer.

When Jesse carefully presses his teeth against the very edge of the abused skin, he spits out a curse in Japanese and bucks up to him once more; drunkenly fucking his clothed cock against McCree’s belt buckle. Ouch.

Tears spring to Jesse’s eyes when Hanzo uses his unfriendly grip on his hair do drag him away and over, insisting with an in-eloquent grunt he pay attention to the other tit.

“Fuckin’ slutty when you’re drunk,” McCree whispers again, tonguing at the piercing and bringing his hand up to carefully tug on the other little metal ball because he can’t leave well enough alone. Hanzo chokes on a near-howl and almost bucks Jesse off; the muscular, compact body writhing like a goddamn snake as he tries to get away and get closer simultaneously.

The pain didn’t seem to be enough to make him not want his tits to get fondled and sucked, Jesse was giddy to notice.

He closed his lips around the abused, reddened area, starting a low, careful suck, and rolled the metal ball of the other piercing through his fingertips. It felt feverishly hot in his mouth. He wondered what Miss Ziegler would do when Hanzo arrived at her med-bay tomorrow; hung-over and ill-tempered, tits a red, swollen spectacle for everybody to see.

Or would Hanzo not go at all? Would he want to drag the healing process out, if he enjoyed it just as much as he seemed to right now; muttering filth in Japanese and fucking rude and selfishly up at McCree as he let himself get serviced by him?

Jesse couldn’t begin to fathom a guess. 

He let the nipple pop out of his mouth with a loud, wet pop and observed it; dark red, obscene and puffy, with the metal of the bar piercing glinting cool and alluring against his skin.

“Damn, pardner,” he sighs, and dips his head, mouthing eager like a babe for the other one to suck it into his greedy mouth.

milkcree:

hanzo riding on top & dripping milk with each bounce of his hips is… my fetish

Hanzo’s eyes were narrowed in cat like pleasure. He looked almost angry staring down at McCree, lips set in a tight line and the crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes deep as if in concentration.

At first, he’d been embarrassed about the whole thing – McCree would bet his hat on it – but it seemed like the allure of a thick cock spreading him open and rubbing against all those needy, itchy spaces was enough to make him pretend like everything was okay. Like he didn’t mind one bit that with each twist and dirty grind of his hips, his pecs jiggled and a new little dribble of milk was trickling down, getting his belly wet in two thin lines.

“Don’t look at it,” Hanzo hissed, fingers on McCree’s chest digging in harder, pulling on the short hair liberally coating his front.

“Not lookin’,” he mumbled, eyes tracking as Hanzo bounced viciously, dragging his silky, clutching insides along McCree’s cock and making his pecs bounce so violently, milk droplets sprayed across McCree’s belly, soaking into the dark hair.

He felt wet and tacky and he loved it. 

Hanzo made a sound that would have been an impressive growl, hadn’t he managed to rub the fat head of McCree’s cock squarely against his prostate, making him choke on his own spit rather undignified, eyes falling closed and head tilting back into his neck.

“Oh yeah,” McCree whispered roughly, putting one arm behind his head and wishing he could reach the cigar glimmering in the ash tray a little ways away. “Not lookin’ at all.”