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the smut vault

Chapter Text

Pairing: reapzenji (reaper/genji/zenyatta)
Kinks/ Warnings: tentacles, oral sex, throatfucking; zenyatta with both male and female genitalia
Summary: genji and reaper have a little trouble sharing zenyatta.




Their particular arrangement demanded several things: darkness, privacy… and patience. The first two were easily acquired. The third Zenyatta supplied in spades, even if Genji was still cultivating that particular virtue, and even if Reaper seemed to run short of it in their every tryst, feeling the passage of time more acutely than either of them. But, occasionally, their paths would cross, and the Iris would bless them with the gift of perfect coincidence, just as it had now. 

It would not, Zenyatta supposed, have been a comfortable position for any human to maintain, or even any human to hold; the willowy length of his body straddled Gabriel’s lap, back against the man’s chest, to think that he had turned his back on Reaper of all people… but even if the wellspring of his trust had not been enough to keep him steady, Genji’s presence alone would have provided all the support he needed.


Such demanding hands. Such demanding mouths. Genji had already latched onto his neck, plying kisses to the place beneath the golden line of his jaw whenever he could, which was evidently not nearly so often as the cyborg seemed to wish if his groans of protests were proof enough. The truth was, of course, that Zenyatta’s body depended entirely upon Gabriel’s not-so-tender mercies. Though the omnic could see little beneath the swell of his own torso-plate- even less, his optic sensors were already malfunctioning, feedback swimming with the pressure of so much input from so many sensors- he knew that his thighs had been split wide across Genji’s lap, and that between them a mess of shadowy tentacles worked his cunt with relentless ambition.

As one glided inside of him, already slick and messy with arousal, another would flick and tease at his clit, or his thighs, or his cock, until Zenyatta could scarcely differentiate between one place or another, as if his entire lower body were melted into one unbearably sensitive node. Too hard a thrust would arch his spine and jerk his hips upwards until he could only chirp in shrill, mindless rapture, head thrown back, well out of Genji’s reach. Yet all the while he could feel Gabriel shifting behind him, the muscles in his thighs twitching and jerking with each new invasion, the raspy sound of breathing heaved against the back of his neck.

One inhumanly long tongue worked its way between the cables that composed his spinal column, lapping at sensors unreachable by even the most intent of hands- and Zenyatta rewarded his devotion with loving strokes up and down his flank, his jaw, working his fingers into a rough curl of half-apparated beard. No turning around. No peeking. Those were the rules.

But rules did not exist in Genji’s world. Perhaps their previous relationship granted him certain privileges, because his eyes returned again and again to the hooded shadows that did not quite hide his old commander’s face. But anyone could see the sheer adoration that gleamed behind his gaze whenever it landed on his newer master instead. Stroking himself, lazily, butting the head of his cock into Zenyatta’s hands whenever they were not otherwise occupied, rutting against his hip as though the omnic’s body were as fascinating and new as it was the first time he uncovered it.

Now, though, he seemed to grow bored of stealing kisses from such an (albeit unintentionally) uncooperative target. Slowly, slowly, the cyborg worked his way down Zenyatta tongue-first, until all he could sense was the gleaming path it left shining down the centre of his body. Before Zenyatta could even think to speak half of his cock was engulfed in the wet heat of Genji’s mouth instead, tongue flattened to the underside as he moved slowly up and down, forcing Gabriel’s tentacles to meet his rhythm instead. There came another gasp against Zenyatta’s neck, and he felt the man stiffen like a hunted thing- but within seconds something else was rumbling through him. Quiet, disbelieving laughter.

“You goddamn rat-bastard.” In Gabriel’s voice it sounded like a compliment, and one he’d bestowed before, at that. “I thought we were supposed to share?”

Somewhere in the haze of pleasure that now composed Zenyatta’s processors, he recalled that, yes, he had made that request. Genji, for his part, simply huffed dismissively. But before Zenyatta could begin to appreciate the delicious little vibration the sound sent rippling through him the huff became a choke- and within seconds he felt every tendril at the base of his cock split and multiple, forcing their way past Genji’s parted lips and into his throat, squeezing and writhing and kissing both the inside of his mouth and the smooth, composite cock contained within it.

Zenyatta’s receptors sang.

At some point, he knew, Genji would find a way to get back at Gabriel. The wheel would turn and the balance between the two of them would shift once more, and he would reconfigure himself around each new arrangement again and again, the heart of their embrace, hot and obliging, a sanctuary for their hard and weary and hungry hands. And Zenyatta welcomed every second.