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.

Okami Hanzo domming a coyote pup Mccree? Pls? I need young Mccree with a wreaked pussy and abused tits.

The pup is thin but not emaciated. Sinewy. Scrappy, more like. Not much body fat to warm him, fur too scraggly along his arms and legs in the confused, half-transformed state he is sporting now.

He shivers, getting antsy and trying to shift away, but a low, almost distracted whuff from Hanzo gets him to behave once more, skinny hips lifting into the air, bushy tail out of the way as he presents to the wolf.

Hanzo’s eyes are half-lidded, posture relaxed as he laps at the gorgeous cunt; surprisingly juicy for such a scrappy coyote pup. Fragrant and blooming open under his insistent tongue dragging across swollen lips again and again.

Every now and then he will focus on the thick clit sitting there at their apex, puffy and prominent. It will get Jesse to groan into the dusty ground, hole dilating for a second, insides clenching to work out more of his slick before it will clench down tight again.

The sight is mesmerizing.

Hanzo doesn’t even know if he wants to mount him this time. He likes the nervous, young energy radiating off the coyote – is flattered by the servant-like deference he displayed towards him.

He has yet a lot to learn, naturally, but Hanzo could be swayed to teach him. He thinks his belly would look a lot better, taut and bulging with his young.

The McHanzo thing I had been talking about yesterday. It went a little different than I wanted it to be (… I wrote half the thing in my head before falling asleep and it was DA BOMB and the second I sit down I can’t bring out a well-formed sentence :’ ) ) but it is aight all in all.

McCree dreams vividly, but not thoughtlessly. He is always conscious of his dreamstate, even if is not exactly possible for him to actively influence what happens.

So when he opens his eyes and realizes he is in the middle of working over his father’s field, he only smirks quietly and keeps going, motions smooth and practiced even though he hasn’t done the work in was more than three decades.

He wonders who will visit him this time. Working with Overwatch has given him plenty of jerk-off fuel, what with working with people of all different shapes and sizes, and genders but all around gorgeous.

The land around him looks dull and strangely devastated. Almost post-apocalyptic as there is no bump in the burning, orange horizon. None of the green, juicy fields to be seen that Jesse had grown up with; only the certainty of a dream that this is, indeed, his father’s farm.

He eyes the stable every now and then; wonders if Mako will lumber out any second, huge and silent, glinting with sweat. His large gut – center piece of a lot of McCree’s idle fantasies when he sits around the base; thinking of how nice i would be to fuck his cock against the massive, firm expanse of it – heaving with his breaths of exertion.

However, this is not a Mako dream. It is, apparently, a Hanzo dream.

The archer is suddenly just there next to him, dressed in a fine suit that seems just a tad too tight; the see-through white dress shirt straining across his pecs, the two buttons there looking ready to pop off at any second.

He has his suit jacket across his shoulder, and even without a car to be seen anywhere, McCree knows with deep certainty that he’d broken down on the nonexistent road.

“Howdy,” Jesse drawls, righting himself up. In his dream, Hanzo is always a little different than in reality. A bit smaller, a bit kinder. A bit more amorous. Like now as he smiles up at Jesse, thin but there, letting his expensive suit jacket fall into the dust.

“Please,” he murmurs, stepping a little closer and into Jesse’s personal space; not shy of the grime and sweat Jesse is sporting; meticulously clean hand lifting to be placed across Jesse’s swarthy chest. “I need your assistance.”

“Do you now,” Jesse drawles, eyes travelling down, eying Hanzo’s chest. Watching just how see-through it is, his dark, small nipples looking obscene and swollen through the fabric.

“I am in need,” Hanzo continues, deep voice so cultivated and friendly – a cat purring for a treat.

He dreams of Hanzo more often than of the other Overwatch members. It is a little embarrassing. Not as embarrassing as what he will make Hanzo do and say in his dreams.

There, Hanzo is not constantly cool and crippled by his past. In his dreams, Hanzo will open his tight shirts and show him the plumpness of his pecs; hard and round with muscle. He’ll cup them and offer them to him, voice still a purring lilt as he asks him once more to help; tells him he needs the relieve.

In dreams, there is nothing weird about him just leaning down in the middle of the dusty, infertile field and moulding his lips around one of Hanzo’s plump nipples. There is nothing weird about suckling like a babe, and listening to Hanzo’s breathing growing deep and labored, one hand lovingly carding through Jesse’s hair.

The next day, Jesse will be awkward around Hanzo – taciturn and a little shy, the vivid dream still so prominent that he thinks he can taste the thick cream of Hanzo’s milk pouring across his tongue – but in the dream, feelings of humiliation and embarrassment are far away.

There is nobody there to judge him; nobody there to question the hayball suddenly there, perfect to bend Hanzo across – or how he can just sink into the snug fit of the archer’s body without preparation.

Hanzo is even warmer than the stifling, dry heat around them. He grunts and arches with Jesse’s thrusts, crooning at him; telling him how much he loves it. How he craves the unforgiving girth of Jesse’s cock to spread him open until tears shoot into his eyes.

He’ll tell him how he wants to worship his cock; go down on his knees and be smothered by the heavy sac of Jesse’s balls; the weight of his dick. How he wants to be down and warm his cock in the tight sleeve of his throat. How he’ll let Jesse hold him down; choke him on his dick until he gags.

All of that he tells him in his deep, cultivated voice; accent thick and mesmerizing and doing things with Jesse’s head.

In his dreams, Hanzo is the perfect fit on his cock; tight and warm and slick; always so ready to receive, that little pink hole opening up greedily, muscles buttery soft for Jesse’s thick, rude fingers, and his even thicker, ruder dick. He’ll ripple around him like a seasoned whore, clenching and suckling, body obviously well trained to play with a cock, and Jesse will find himself wondering about it in his waking hours; watching Hanzo surreptitiously from beneath the wide brim of his hat – trailing the muscles of his body and staring at the always-unhappy slant of his wide, sensual mouth.

Jesse dreams of everyone in Overwatch, but Hanzo visits him by far the most often.

Mister Shimada thinks he’s pretty clever, Jesse supposes. Or, just as likely: he thinks McCree is an idiot.

He grins wryly, big hands curling around Shimada’s trim hips, holding on for the ride as the man slowly lifts himself up onto his knees. His cock emerges in a gratifying slow slide; wet and girthy, the swollen rim dragging along; clinging, suckling, clenching.

He’s not the first Mr. Shimada has approached – he has no illusions there. The whole thing is too practiced: the room carefully arranged and picked out to the prissy man’s exact standards. Jesse, who has no qualms about rickety beds with squeaking hinges (in fact, is quite partial to them, as they so boost his ego), doesn’t care either way.

He’s got his dick in a warm, pretty thing, and is lounging in a hotel room far above his pay grade to do so.

That Mr. Shimada is ignoring him is… annoying, but no deal breaker.

Mr. Shimada thinks Jesse is an idiot, after all, and the fact amuses Jesse to no end. Enough so to let the guy play.

In reality, Jesse knows exactly what’s up: has figured it out the moment the little whore had started groping his belly, hairy and with a good layer of fat, face twisted in what should look like disgust but actually seemed more desperately hungry. Like he hated himself for how much he loved how imperfect McCree is.

A suspicion that was only confirmed by how Mr. Shimada preened in front of the mirror; back ramrod straight, spine a sensual, sweat slick curve in front of Jesse’s admiring eyes. He’d brace himself with both hands just above Jesse’s knees, and make sure his biceps bracketed the generous swell of his tits.

He’d watch his own cock bounce in the reflection; pink and not entirely hard, but still oh-so-pretty as he fucked himself on Jesse’s cock.

Next to Shimada’s noble beauty, Jesse is a mutt; hairy and soft around the middle; chest not as firm as it used to be, beard too unkempt.

He doesn’t much care, though, if it gets him Shimada’s tight body after long tedious meetings. Doesn’t care at all, in fact, if he doesn’t have to do anything; just lie there and let Shimada cuddle with his dick while he puffs on a cigar and enjoys life.

He’d not the idiot Shimada thinks him to be, but he’ll definitely not let him know.

Bush viper Hanzo, smol and powerful and quick, and Gaboon viper/rattlesnake Jesse, so much bigger and lazy and thicc. Jesse just laying over Hanzo doing his pretty mating dance and wrapping around him, holding him down. Hanzo is being indignant and trying to play it cool but how can he when that agile little rattle/tip of his tail is slowly playing with the opening of his cloaca and getting him ready for Jesse’s snake dicc?

Anonymous said: “

Rattlesnake Jesse. His tail starts rattling during orgasm. :3c

“

When Hanzo moves, the sharp scales along the back of his tail dig into the softer flesh of McCree’s underside. He grunts, twisting once again, trying to keep his prey still while the inquisitive tip of his tail nudges against the tightly closed genital slit.

“Come on,” he huffs, rubbing his scruffy chin along the side of Hanzo’s face. “Come on.” He’s definitely whining, but there’s nothing to it. He’s horny, and Hanzo is beneath him, pretty and warm from the sun he’d been lying in just a moment ago, and writhing so enticingly just for him.

“You are a brute,” Hanzo hisses, fingers digging into the loose sand around them, trying to drag himself away to no avail: Jesse is easily twice as heavy and crushing him against the warm ground. “And get off of me,” Hanzo spits, blue tail lashing, trying to twist himself out from beneath McCree’s frustratingly thorough grip.

He can feel himself loosing the uphill battle quickly. McCree is a charmer, even if he is unbelievably clumsy, and Hanzo can feel the sticky wet drag of his cock against the back of his tail.

McCree is already out and needy, when Hanzo’s muscles are just about now starting to give in to the insistent prodding of his cheekily rattling tail.

“Just a little bit,” McCree murmurs, wheedling as he reaches around and cups Hanzo’s pec, squeezing it in time with his slow, rolling thrusts.

As it looks to Hanzo, McCree will be too lazy to drag himself around and fuck him; rather, he’ll rub himself off against Hanzo’s smooth, warm scales, taking the pain of the sharp ridges along his spine digging into his soft belly in stride, while feeling Hanzo up and playing with the silky slit of his genitals.

It could be a worse day, he supposes.

Oooooh man I’m actually really feeling softdom!Young! Hanzo bullying older McCree??? Like Hanzo all proper and polite, and McCree totally overwhelmed and spoiled by this young prince? Maybe it steps a little bit into HardDom territory, with Hanzo teasing/edging McCree, who’s totally beholden to this vision of youthful beauty… maybe even Hanzo deigning to touch McCree’s cock with his impossibly delicate feet… if you’re feeling it, that is. If not, then that’s ok too! :)

Hanzo likes it when Mr. McCree takes him out to dinner, though not for the reason most people might assume. He enjoys the free food and company well enough, but his real enjoyment came from the needy, hopeful looks Mr. McCree shot him, and the knowing little glances they got from all around the tables. Those glances that told him the other patrons thought they knew exactly what was up: Hanzo being young and pretty and going to be fucked on Mr. McCree’s big cock sooner rather than later after the dinner.

He thinks it’s amusing that they think like that when both of them knew how the evening would really go.

“Sit down,” Hanzo orders him as soon as they step into Mr. McCree’s expensive apartment. His big hands flutter helplessly around Hanzo’s hips for a moment, obviously debating whether he should have a touch, but ultimately deciding against it. He blows out a long breath and sits in the chair Hanzo had indicated with a regal nod of his head.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Hanzo asks him mildly, playing with his tie and slowly loosening the tight, perfect knot. Mr. McCree’s head tilts back, showing him his throat. He swallows hard and nods, watching the gape of Hanzo’s shirt.

Hanzo, noticing his distraction, smirks and stands up. He sheds the garment and cups a pec with one hand. Watches how Mr. McCree’s eyes bug out and his cheeks get ruddy red beneath his beard.

“Did you like ogling me tonight?” he continues.

“You’re way too pretty,” McCree agrees with a groan. He lifts his hands and drags them across his face. He looks like a man with an addiction, and Hanzo enjoys that very much.

“Open your pants. Show me your cock.”

Mr. McCree lets out a long, whistling breath through his nose. His hands are shaking as he fumbles with his pants, hectic as a young teen as he fishes inside his boxers and doesn’t manage to pull his cock out for the longest time.

When he finally does manage to wrestle it free from the wet fabric, he grunts in elation, slumping back, large barrel chest heaving as he presents Hanzo with the fat dick; ruddy red and with bulging veins. Not a pretty cock but so very, very tempting.

Hanzo’s mouth waters at the sight; the way Mr. McCree’s large fingers play unselfconsciously with the foreskin; pulling it back and displaying the shiny fat tip to Hanzo’s dark, intent gaze.

“You know what they think?” Hanzo murmurs as he slips out of his boots and leans down to pull off his socks. “They think I’m drooling on your cock right now. That you fuck my throat with that big, fat dick of yours.”

It is crude, and not his preferred way to talk, but he’s found out early how very much Mr. McCree likes it when he’s being lewd. Like now as he groans and tightens his fingers in a ring just beneath the swollen glans; milking a few drops from the slit.

“You like it that they think that way,” Hanzo states, rucking up his pant leg and lifting his foot; so smooth and unblemished looking next to McCree’s dark red dick.

It feels hot against the sole of his foot as he presses it up against McCree’s clothed belly. He allows himself a smirk as the older man immediately snatches his hand away; letting him play with his cock however he likes.

He is chuffing away like a steam engine, hands clawing at the armrests of his chair. His chin is on his chest, staring down at Hanzo’s toes curling and uncurling against the swollen head.

“If only they knew,” Hanzo murmurs, straightening his slim ankle to press the ball of his foot more firmly against McCree’s shaft. “That you pay me to be mean to you…”

For all that Hanzo is shy about that particular need of his – and very pointedly does not want to discuss it – he has managed to accumulate a veritable harem of daddies.

So when Reinhardt is indisposed by work or his own aging body, McCree will gladly take his place.

Hanzo loves and loathes these occasions in equal measures.

McCree makes it just so… so very… embarrassing.

He doesn’t let him hide for once; crooning just as syrupy-sweet as Reinhardt but catching his wrists all the same; holding them down and out of the way, watching with self-indulgent intent the way Hanzo’s chest heaves; nipples perky and on display for his viewing pleasure.

McCree is simultaneously a lazier and a stricter Daddy than Reinhardt. He likes to lie back and have Hanzo sit on his big, fat, ruddy cock – but he also likes to tell him exactly how to work his cunt along his dick.

He likes to grab Hanzo’s thighs and pinch him; slap his ass and pull at his nipples, all the while lazily sucking on the end of a cigar he sloppily stuck in the corner of his mouth.

He likes to hear Hanzo whine. He likes to see him flushed and unsure, dark eyes wet and mouth open.

McCree doesn’t indulge his more petulant moods as much as Reinhardt does. He pushes, and goads, and – on a few memorable occasions – has denied to give Hanzo his cock if he hadn’t behaved beforehand.

After sessions with Jesse, Hanzo is empty and serene. Tuckered out like a little puppy, pliant and open to get filled with warm affection.

And for all that he is ambivalent about the way McCree goes about his business, there’s no question about how much he loves his cock. How eager he is to be allowed to spend hours on his knees, happily drooling into the coarse thatch of pubes, hands on the low hanging balls to keep them nice and warm so they’d fill him up good later on.

He loves sitting down on it; feeling how the fleshy girth in the middle of the shaft will stretch him that much wider; until his eyes start to tear up and his nose begins to run. He loves scratching his fingers through McCree’s chest hair; to hold on to it during the ride, watching McCree’s face contort with pain at the sharp tugs, but letting him do it all the same.

Sometimes, Hanzo will be overwhelmed with the feeling of McCree’s cock in his belly; will lie down on him and rub his cheek mindlessly against his soft pecs, babbling for Daddy as his hips move relentlessly; filling himself over and over again; making himself take everything Daddy had to give.

And other times, Reinhardt will be there, too; his huge hands cupping Hanzo’s pecs; fingers rolling the painfully sensitive nipples, squeezing his chest – showing it off for McCree’s viewing pleasure.

Hanzo thinks he likes those times the best. When both Daddies are there to gentle him down afterwards; box him in between their thick, hairy bodies and keep him down as long as he needs to.

They make the most delightful little sounds when they’re nose deep in the other’s crack.

Gabriel leans far back in his chair, fist clenched around the squat glass of liquor, eyes shining feverishly as he watches Jesse and Hanzo squirm for him on the ground.

Jesse is grunting softly as he buries himself deeper, arms hugging around Hanzo’s waist like a vice. Afraid he’ll get his treat taken away before he’s licked all of Gabriel’s cream from the sloppy hole.

Hanzo is a beast more often than not – his fear is well grounded. He can’t fool him for it.

Hanzo is more quiet; more reserved in expressing his greed, but not less eager for it. He is eating Jesse like a champ, pale hands on his brown cheeks, pulling them apart, buried in the hairy crack of the cowboy’s ass.

He likes it down there. Loves it, even. He’d never admit to it, but it is apparent in the way he sighs every now and then, eyes closed, lashes a dark, adoring whisper against his high, sharp cheek bones.

If Gabriel leans to the side just right, he can see a slip of pink tongue every now and then; delving deep into the loose, warm hole. He can just imagine it; dragging along the swollen walls. Tasting Gabriel’s cock as it had rubbed along them not ten minutes ago.

Jesse is wheezing softly, squirming beneath Hanzo’s weight. Hanzo is unapologetic about lying down on him, making him bear all of him. Their bellies are squished together, their cocks snuggled against throats; hard and weeping and ignored in favor of the real treat.

So hungry for Gabriel’s cock, they take everything they can get.

Jesse had been almost weepy as he realized Hanzo got the main attraction for the night; their hips pressed together, asses up almost comically high – trying to entice him with the dark gapes of their cunts.

He’s fucked them both at once; holding the other over with thick fingers jammed up that greedy, suckling space before pulling out and replacing them with his dick for a few deep, self-indulgent thrusts.

Despite his earlier whining, Jesse looks happy now. He’s gotten what he wanted after all, and Gabriel suspects it might be his favorite to taste anyway. He’s not as greedy to get his belly warmed as Hanzo is; always vying for a fuck; always begging with his eyes and the presentation of his pretty tits.

Jesse is calmer; more mellowed but equally greedy.

Gabriel can rarely keep up with them.

He sips from his glass, cock still out and wet, watching them lick each other’s ass out, trying to one-up the other. Be better, quicker, smarter.

He can see Hanzo’s hand start to inch towards Jesse’s heavy balls. Hanzo has always been a cheater, and none of them had yet been able to train it out of him. They enjoy it too much anyway.

Gabriel lets his head fall back against the headrest, staring blearily at the ceiling as he watches to their messy, wet sounds. Jesse’s grunting and Hanzo’s soft little panting.

Sometimes he can’t believe what a goddamn lucky man he is.

Humiliation and feminzation, mccree? Hanzo dolling mccree up all nice and pretty, then dicking down his sloppy ‘cunt’

For someone as large and hirsute as McCree, he enjoyed getting dressed up… a lot. Hanzo watched him impassively as he turned around in front of him, wearing an airy dress, the short skirt swishing around thick, hairy thighs. The straps looked even smaller across his broad shoulders.

“Lift your skirt,” Hanzo grunts, leaning back, ankle across his knee. He watches as Jesse flushes a dull red, becoming shy as he lets his large hands travel down, curling them around the hem of his skirt. He squirms for just a second before Hanzo’s unimpressed stare makes him comply, lifting the thin fabric up to his hips.

Hanzo clicks his tongue, the corners of his mouth pulling down.

“What’s that?” he murmurs, staring at McCree’s cock, naked and fat, hanging soft between his thighs. His balls are ruddy red and soft looking. Vulnerable as his face as he licks his lips, cheeks the color of bricks. “Good girls don’t walk around without panties,” Hanzo finally decrees.

“I thought you were a good girl.” His dark eyes flick up just for a second, gauging McCree’s reaction. His eyes become a bit misty, but his cock is filling out slightly; chubby and delicious looking. “Turns out you’re nothing but a slut, are you?”

Hanzo leans forward, sliding two fingers beneath the tip of McCree’s cock; lifting it away from his balls. It is girthy, the weight making his mouth water. He tugs at the silky slip of foreskin, and looks up sharply when Jesse just about tamps down on a whimper.

“Really?” he sneers, “Doesn’t take much to get you excited, does it? Just someone to touch your clit and you’re ready to go.”

Jesse’s cheeks darken, eyes slanting to the side. His toes curl into the rug, knuckles going white with the tight grip he has on the skirt. A huge bear of a man chastised to speechlessness by just a few carefully placed words.

Hanzo scoffs; a soft sound of disgust as he lets go of Jesse’s cock; watching it bob and fill out steadily beneath his gaze. He slaps two fingers against the hidden glans, just to hear Jesse choke on spit, and to watch it bounce anew.

“Well then. Cheap little whores get exactly what they deserve, wouldn’t you agree?”

Jesse looks teary but excited, biting his lip, chin wobbling faintly beneath his scruffy beard. He nods and Hanzo leans back once more, enjoying the view presented; Jesse’s biceps tensing deliciously, as he makes himself keep still for Hanzo’s viewing pleasure – he hadn’t gotten the command to let go of his skirt, after all.

“Turn around and bend forward. I want to see your cunt.”

Jesse starts shuffling around, cock fat and bobbing, so very excited by the proceedings. Hanzo smirks.

re: that one ask about pup-mccree having a little accident — what about pupcree who submissive pees when he gets excited? he just cant help himself. he’s not even out of his people clothes when hanzo breaks out the collar and leash and he’s just too excited to play with his master that he rolls onto his back at hanzo’s feet and wets himself (hanzo thinks it’s cute, cooing humiliating puppy talk while groping mccree’s wet, hard crotch, letting him hump frantically into his soggy drawers)

cyberrat:

oooohhh shit. OOOOHHHH SHIIIIEEETTTT

that’s my goddamn jam right there. that’s such a hot concept. I loooove submissive wetting; but puppy McCree being so excited he can’t help but piss is so good????? fuck… and Hanzo being all into that. probs leashing McCree and curling it a few times around his fist while letting him hump up into his hand.

Jesse showing his belly is so good…

His eyes are already docile and warm when Hanzo turns around and presents him with the collar. Jesse never has problems getting into the mindset but this time it seems to have happened like flipping a switch: one moment he is calm, albeit exhausted from training – the next he is puppy eager, focused solely on the supple length of leather in Hanzo’s palms.

He practically falls unto all fours, looking up at Hanzo with a look of utter adoration.

“There’s a good boy,” Hanzo murmurs. When he steps close, Jesse rolls onto his back, whining. Eager. Hanzo’s lips curl into an amused half-smirk.

“Not so quick. We still need to get you out… of…” He trails off, halting mid-stride eyes zeroing in on the dark patch rapidly spreading in Jesse’s crotch.

Jesse is panting fast and eager, body squirming faintly with his big hands at his shoulders and his legs tucked up, knees against his ribs. He whines at Hanzo’s perplexed scrutiny. The fabric of his jeans seems to be oversaturated; a thick stream of his piss emerges in a small arc, the liquid gathering in a warm puddle beneath his ass.

Finally, Hanzo finds his voice once more, hand curled in a tight fist around the collar as he steps closer and sinks down onto his knees – Jesse lifting his chin and showing off his throat.

“You’ve been that eager to play, hm? What an eager puppy… I think we’ll have to housetrain you again…