Hanzo/Sojiro/Genji – rough sex; consensual; daddy kink; slight Dom/sub; mention of Sojiro/mother Shimada – Hanzo and Genji accidentally find themselves back in time though still at their current age. Their father puts up no resistance to them taking the reigns.

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They suspect that Sojiro must suspect something. He is a frighteningly intelligent man, after all – his cunning not just the exaggeration of their adoring and mildly terrified child minds. He’s paused as they bowed in front of him, dark eyes sharp, the corner of his mouth tucked shrewdly downwards as he studied them…

But he’s never said anything, and they’d never offered to explain. It is too fantastic a story anyway: them, the future selves of the sons that are strolling around the estate, thrown back in time by a freak accident.

He might even believe them, but he would never say so openly, of course. He never asks them for their names. They wonder what he calls them in his mind when they coax him into his own bedroom, walking through it like it belongs to them, and pulling haphazardly at his robes until they hang lewdly off his body; showing off his broad shoulders and trim waist.

His thick, hairy thighs. The meaty, plump swell of his ass presented readily by the old-fashioned fundoshi he is wearing.

They are about to find out, though.

.o.

Mostly, he is quiet at the beginning. Just deep, labored breaths that occasionally peak into small, near distressed sounds that have the both of them pause and eye each other, their worlds tilting as they try to align the sound of the needy, undignified noises with the picture of their regal, stone-like father.

It excites them to feel how very human he is beneath the unswaying, cruel exterior.

He is touch starved. He turns into their hands and mouths eagerly; lets his mouth hang open, tongue lolling even when they don’t put it to use on Genji’s scarred cock or Hanzo’s greedy hole.

(And what an enlightenment that has been: their father, on his hands and knees, yukata askew like a whore, face buried in his son’s ass and peacefully licking at his rim.)

He mewls for them with every pluck of his rosy, plump nipples – inherited by Hanzo – and every pass of a rough fingertip across his plump, lewd hole.

It has not been their first thought when they’ve found themselves in strangely familiar surroundings – but it’s been not far off when they’ve stood in front of their father for the first time in twenty odd years and realized just how magnificent he looks and just how much they used to desire him.

Granted, their boyish fantasies had been different; with them on their backs and their legs spread whorishly – but they find the opposite is even more pleasing.

“Hold him for me,” Genji tells him, voice not as robotic without his visor but still as calm and pleasing. Hanzo slides into position at their father’s head, placid, not caring about being ordered around by his younger brother.

He hooks his hands behind Sojiro’s knees and pulls them up and apart; folding their regal oto-san into a fine little package until he wheezes out a long, distressed whine, his cheeks a dark cherry red as his ass curves up into the air, cheeks spread and exposing the obscene pout of his hole.

“It always looks so lewd,” Genji murmurs as he idly puts himself on his belly, breath fanning across the exposed, sensitive part. “If I didn’t know better I would think you get fucked by your guards every night.”

“Ah,” their father says, and then follows, even more softly: “No…”

Genji pauses, glances up. There’s an old mischief in his eyes as he presses a single kiss square against the pout of his asshole, greying beard tickling undoubtedly.

“No?” he queries, and their father squirms as well as he can. He looks so approachable like this; folded in half, showing his goods off to his sons. The knowledge that he can be embarrassed is fucking with Hanzo’s head. He tunes out as Genji keeps needling their father while he works his way up to his big, ruddy red cock, lying against his belly in a nest of coarse hair that’s just this side of unruly and poses an almost sickening source of fascination for both his sons.

Instead he stares at the shell of Sojiro’s ear; watches how hot and red it becomes. Thinks, disjointedly That’s how I look when I’m aroused; and lets his gaze wander further at the swell of his tits peeking out of the untidy folds of his ruined yukata.

Hanzo wants to touch them. He wants to get his hands on them like so many men did with him: take rough hand fulls and squeeze them together. Slap them. Pinch the nipples. Use his father like a common street slut.

The blood is roaring in his ears, his hands sweating and shaking where they still hold Sojiro’s legs, his feet high in the air. Undignified.

Showing himself off and not putting up an ounce of protest.

He’s never protested any of their advances. Like he’s known forever how this exchange would go. Like he’s been waiting for someone to degrade him and put him in his rightful place.

Speared on a fat cock that can warm his cold interior up nicely.

Like Genji does now: Pressing a last, suckling kiss at the violently red tip of their father’s cock before rearranging himself.

Hanzo can let go when he’s above them, squatting down with his legs bracketing their father’s body, his thighs keeping Sojiro pinned like a bug.

Undignified. Sojiro is so undignified. Whining for their cocks. Letting them put him in whatever positions they damn well please. Degrading him.

Genji raws him, fucks his nearly dry cock into the ridiculous, lewd pout of their father’s ass, and Sojiro does not even pretend he is distressed about the harsh pain from it.

Genji has him in a mating press, fucking down into Sojiro’s ass, curved up and presented, spreading his tender, slick insides out on his cock and frowning at the sensations that are almost too sharp to be pleasurable – and it is then that Sojiro says it, arms scrambling up and trying to grab at Hanzo, fingers curling into his garments and holding on for dear life: “D-Daddy…”

It is spoken quietly, breathy, fucked out of him by Genji’s unrelenting, calm thrusts, like the word has been stuck somewhere and been forced out by the fat cock that is trying so desperately to deep dick him right into his belly.

He sounds shameful, eyes slitted in pleasure, staring at Genji’s face that looks so very much like Sojiro’s own.

And maybe it is their own shame that it does not deter them in the least – does, in fact, spur them into action even more, Hanzo’s cock jerking, wetting against his own underwear as their father’s cheeks get a darker shade of ruddy red, his bulky cock jerking where it lies unattended against his scrunched-up belly.

“Say it again,” Genji rasps, thrusts punishing; fucking deep into their father with loud, obscene slaps that have Sojiro throw his head back, throat thick and flushing as he pants through the pain of getting rawed by the cyborg, veins pulsing visibly.

“Say it!” Genji hisses, his earlier calm demeanor broken by the sudden, visceral need to have their father submit even more; have him supplicate himself before them.

And here, too, Sojiro does not put up any fights. He pants, open-mouthed and canine, tongue lolling, undignified. Dishonorable.

“Daddy.”

.o.

Hanzo has to have him afterwards. They turn him around; arrange their oto-san however they please and delight in how eager he is; arching his back and offering up his hole, bloomed open and brick red as his cheeks. Raw and painful looking but still needy for Genji’s cock to slip in and get it hot and aching for him.

His throat is soft and squeezing down on Hanzo. He only needs to guide him into the general direction before he gets the drift and pounces on it; chokes himself on cock and gags almost dutifully when Hanzo pushes in carefully, fucking against his soft palate and the squishy back of his throat.

He’s clumsy, but he’s still a cockwhore. He wants them to teach him, and he is shockingly open about it.

Hanzo remembers suddenly vague snippets of memory; of seeing their mother glide and their father following like a puppy. Of seeing her grab his hand and digging her nails into the tender skin at his wrist until he relents to whatever negotiations were happening at the time.

Of peeking through the sliding doors of their shared bedroom and seeing their father supplicated before her, dutifully dragging his tongue along the juicy slit of her cunt as she idly plays with a riding crop, ready to put another stripe to the assortment scattered along his back.

He must have been lonely, after her passing. Looking desperately for someone to hurt him in just the right ways. Someone to tell him what to do and how.

Hanzo feels strangely proud at being able to continue the family tradition and train their father to be a perfect cockslut.