disclaimer: all ‘boys’ and ‘girls’ are of age within any smutfics i write. i’M tOo OLd FoR tHiS sHiT
Shouto had just taken a shower and was relaxing on his bed. He was impossible to resist, all soft, clean, and scented with his bodywash. He watched you lazily as you slid onto his lap. Your rear made its home there, and leaned close.
You hesitated, waiting for permission. What you got was an invitation, a peck to your lips. You gently bit back, at his lower lip. He bared his teeth in turn, and your mouths clashed passionately in the middle. You loved it when the fiery side of his personality came out.
His cock came to life under you. When its heat touched your cunt, you gasped, the blood pounding between your legs. You immediately drew up and slid your hungry cunt against his cockhead. You moved back and his cock brushed your clit. You held it there and swivelled your hips against it.
“Enough foreplay,” he ordered, pulling a couple inches away. His voice was soft, but his eyes told you that you should obey. “Put it in.”
“I like it when you talk like that,” you said, smiling and sliding your lip through your teeth.
You bent back just enough so that his dick met its slick target. You worked your hips back and forth, sliding inch-by-inch down his length.
Shouto sucked his lip in at the feel of you tightly hugging him inside you. He stared burned into the place where you two joined. His heterochromatic eyes met yours for a heart-pounding moment before he went back to watching.
Before you made it all the way down, you put your hands to the headboard behind him, caging him in. Shouto would have none of it. He took hold of your hips and flipped you back onto the bed, falling with you and hungrily locking lips with you again.
He drew his hips back and slammed into you. You cried out his name.
“Sorry,” he panted. “Should I slow down?”
Something about the way his voice dipped in tone with an added growl, made you say no.
“Too bad, I will.”
Shouto decided you needed it slower, but he went no less deep. He went all the way down to his red and white pubic and then pulled back. He fucked you slow. You kissed at his lips, a series of silent pleas for him to give him what he teased you with. To fuck you hard.
Your fingers crawled up his back, and Shouts grabbed them. He pinned them on either side of your head.
“You want it? You ask for it,” he growled.
His eyes burned hotter, thrilled you into obeying.
“I want it.”
“You want what?”
“I want you to fuck me harder.”
Hearing that, he bared his teeth again. He let go of your arms. You braced yourself against the lean muscles of his pecs. He began to beat his hips against yours. He did so until you arched up from the bed and sang out the pleasure he was giving you.
Shouto joined you with low his moans. The last brain cell still functioning moved your hand to your clit. You made sure to catch up to him before his thrusts started to stutter. He shouted his next few moans, keeping it together just enough to fuck himself to orgasm.
“Fuck,” he yelled, his body trembling.
“Oh…Shouto…”
You moaned long one last time as you joined him, your hips lifting off the bed.
His soft cock slipped out of you, and he fell next to you, humming. He gave you a sleepy smile, satisfied.
Genji rouses from his ‘meditation’ and rolls his head around to look at you upside down. “Hmmmm?” A gag, blindfold, and collar are tossed onto his chest and he looks at them with a raised brow. “What’s this for?”
From the other room, you yell at him to just put it on since you have your hands full. The ninja obliges, gnawing on the rubber ball that tastes more like saliva than it does rubber at this point. The collar goes on next after he strips off his crotch guard and all other pieces of his armour that can be removed, and after that the blindfold. It’s soft around his eyes and he lies back with his arms crossed over his chest. Faintly, he hears you rummage around in your office and wonders what exactly you’re doing. But it doesn’t sound like you’re able to find what you’re looking for, so maaaaaybe you won’t mind if he takes a little nap.
“Let him sleep,” you say to Hanzo. You continue to scrub the pot clean of spaghetti sauce from dinner earlier that evening.
“He always sleeps,” he says with a growly undertone. He crosses his arms at the kitchen table. While not the dark pits Shota usually sports, Hanzo has dark circles under his eyes. Something has been disturbing his sleep.
“I know what you’re saying.” Hanzo snorts at that. You continue. “You’re saying he doesn’t train as much as you. Well, he still beats you every time, so…” You trail off and let the wicked grin on your face say the rest.
Hanzo stares at you, letting the silence stretch.
“You’re lucky I don’t take such comments from you personally,” he finally says.
“Why didn’t I soak this bitch?!” you mutter to yourself, still scrubbing. “Sorry, what?” you ask Hanzo.
“Nevermind.”
It wasn’t important, anyway. You rinse the now-clean pot and place it in the drying rack.
“Does he have to use his sleeping bag on the bed?” Hanzo demands from out of nowhere.
“That’s how he likes it,” you say.
“He puts it on top of the blankets!”
“So?!”
“I wish to use those blankets,” Hanzo pouts.
“Then move him. You know it won’t wake him up.”
You get the mental image of Hanzo whipping the blankets and the cocooned Shota falling to the floor, still snoozing away. You smile to yourself.
“That is rude.”
You scoff, as if Hanzo wasn’t just shit-talking Shota just now.
“Saying and doing are two different things,” he claims.
You shake your head, washing the last dish. “If you say so, Hanzo.”
You finish the dishes and sit next to Hanzo to take a moment to relax. You lean against his warm, solid frame, soaking in his heat like a needy human sponge. He hugs you a tad closer with an arm around your waist. A few minutes pass, and Shota walks into the kitchen. His hair is up, and he wears all black on his lean frame.
“Good morning!” you call with a smile. Anytime he gets up is ‘morning’ to you.
“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear,” Hanzo taunts. “What drags your depressed carcass into this kitchen at this hour, Aizawa?”
“Just for that, you can come patrolling with me.”
“You’re a teacher!” Hanzo protests. “You don’t have to!”
He tenses up under you, and you sit up, sensing drama brewing.
“You’ll do as I say if you don’t want me to report Overwatch activities to the authorities.”
Hanzo turns red with anger, but he gets up to do as Shota says. His path to where his bow is stored takes him past the pro hero. Hanzo pauses to lock gazes with the other man. You adore the contrast between them. Two dark-locked, small men, but one with perpetual bedhead and the other with nary a hair out of place, even while relaxing at home. Shota blinks back with his usual, exhausted stare. His expression is somewhat impertinent, and Hanzo furrows his brow further. Still, he has to protect Overwatch, and goes to get Stormbow from its case.
You get up as Shota turns to you. He pecks a kiss to your forehead.
“I’ll have him back by bedtime,” he promises with a tired smile.
You laugh. “He’s older than you!”
“He still acts like one of my students,” Shota mutters, turning to leave.
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