#yandere!mccree

[yandereaffections]

Overwatch Masterlist

Jesse Mccree

Naga Jesse

Scary Movies + Male S/o

Werewolf Jesse

S/o always making him Food for when he returns 

Soft life HC

“Miss Honeys Escape Attempt” BEFORE

Male Dinner worker Teasing Mccree

Curvy S/o trying to lose weigh

“Miss Honey Escape Attempt” AFTER

S/o avoiding Jesse cause he shares the same name as their brother

Stalking a ex-MMA fighter

Animal Tamer S/o threatening Mccree with a Tiger

Attempting to poison Mccree

Stripper S/o

Harpy S/o broke her wing

Cuddly S/o

Tsundere Smol Chubby S/o

S/os got a fat ass

S/o with separation anxiety

Flustered Touch starved S/o

Gender neutral S/o not feeling good about their appearance  

S/o refusing to wear glasses cause they dont want to look at their captor

Sensitive s/o who crys alot

Dealing with S/os stalker

S/o trying to kill themselves with jesses gun when he threatens them

S/o whos good at the Knife game

Happy drunk S/o

Soft headcannons

Threatening jesse with his own gun

Cheering jesse up after a stressful day

Painting his weapon

S/o whos prone to accidents 

S/o screams “dad dont hurt me” when jesse attempts to kidnap them

Overwatch S/o who works with seduction and espionage 

claustrophobic s/o

Asking Jesse out on a date

Mermaid S/o

Confident s/o who gets flustered when they compliment them

Autistic S/o who stimms alot

Genji flirting with Mccrees S/o

Torture

Hanzo Shimada

Finding out S/os Pregnant

Witnessing Genjis Murder

Healer S/o

Punk/Goth S/o

S/o getting a nosebleed from watching Hanzo workout

Too Pure for this world S/o

S/o who can Heal with a kiss

Naga Hanzo

S/o whos Protective of Naga Hanzo

Naga S/o

Someone else taking advantage and leaving S/o to die

Creep trying to look underneath S/os Skirt

‘Stupid’ S/p

Vampire Hanzo with a S/o who faints when bloods taken

S/o with Chaotic Energy

Vampire Hanzo w/ Vampire Hunter S/o

People pleaser S/o ends up hurting themselves

Expressing affection in other ways besides cuddling

Dragon S/o

Finding Drunk S/o in a casino

S/o wearing a Choker with his name on it

Yandere S/o coming up to his door covered in blood

S/o whos fine with Yandere Tendencies 

S/o uncomfortable around her family

S/o begging for Mcdonalds

Dragons HC

Attractive yet Oblivious S/o

Sneaky S/o Surprise hugging him

Comforting S/o after failing a test

S/o terrified from something theyve seen

Sneaky S/o Surprising him, ends up moaning

Stopping from S/os rival sabatoging their Ice Skating Preformance

S/os scared of bugs

S/o caring everyone but themselves 

Expert insulting s/o

S/o threatening to kill the man who stole their dog

Poly Han/Jess with a S/o who threatens those who try to court them 

touch starved hesitant S/o

Naga S/o saying “snakes dont have a gag reflex”

Captive S/o refusing to take medicine for their migraine 

Insomniac S/o having to cuddle hanzo to fall alseep

Goblin S/o

Comforting Hanzo after a bad day

S/o dressing as the opposite gender to trick people

Smol S/o who wants to be crushed by hanzo

S/o getting ready to fight cause they heard genji on the roof

Dragons biting hanzo when he tries to touch S/o

S/o whos pregnant with triplets 

Bodybuilder s/o

After sex cuddles 

S/o who already has a kid

S/o whos hazy with little to no sleep

Homeless S/o who making their living off of street performances 

Genji Shimada

Scared S/o will get hurt during a mission

Pissed off S/o

Gore + Torture TW

Vampire Genji

Silly S/o who could Surprise gengi

S/o making a book all about their love for him

Crush falling asleep on his lap

Comforting S/o out of their previous relationship

S/os whos dramatic for attention

Sticking a dozen valentines stickers on his metal body

Blind S/o

Yokai S/o

Washed up Mermaid S/o

Curvy Confident S/o 

Getting a weapon maker S/o attention

Cute S/o who attracts bugs and scary animals

Sharpshooter s/o joining overwatch just to spend more time with genji

Unpredictable angry s/o

Roadhog

Petite S/o

Junkrat

Headcannons

Clingy S/o

Sick S/o

Reaper

Werewolf Reaper

Werewolf + Vampire Hybrid Reaper

House wife S/o

Waitress Crush

Scary movies

Halloween Date

Reinhardt

Headcannons

‘Big Dumbass Energy’ S/o

Werewolf S/o who turns out to transform into a puppy

Medic s/o

Overwatch receptionist S/o

Widowmaker

Advancing towards a Enemy S/o

Mercy

Spoiling S/o

Poly mercy/sombra w/ defiant s/o

Headcannons

Moria

S/o that works with Moria

Sombra

Poly mercy/sombra w/ defiant s/o 

D.VA

Pro gamer crush taking her #1 spot

Brigitte

Headcannons (female reader)

Lucio

Headcannons

Soldier 76

S/o wearing a lolita dress (male reader)

Ana Amari

“Isn’t this better―you not fighting me for once?”

Poly Mchanzo

Poly Han/Jess with a S/o who threatens those who try to court them 

Jesse Mccree

Spanking S/o and having them wear lingerie 

S/o whos embarrassed cause theyre quick to cum 

Orgasm control & Mirror Kink w/ Male S/o 

Hanzo

Getting handsy in a store out of jealousy NS FW-ish

Getting hanzo to wear lingerie 

Briggit

Loving her muscles NS FW

[pumpkin-pi-e]

Yanderes Aizawa, Hanzo, McCree, and Toji like to pretend you don't know what your clit is for.

I Ain't As Good As I Once Was

“This is your pussy. This is your pretty little pussy. You might have touched her before, but I’ll teach you how to spoil her.”

God, I love sad older men.

Content Warnings: forced cunnilingus (female receiving), overstimulation (female), c*mming in pants, fingering, kidnapping themes, self-flagellation (Hanzo), worship (Hanzo), dirty talk, mommy kink (Toji), implied gambling addiction, your implied age is -26 (Toji), Age gap, neglect on account of gambling addiction, breeding kink, pregnancy talk, (Toji) forced pregnancy? (Toji), dubious consent (Toji)

Not recommended for those under eighteen.

You try and touch yourself to show that you know how to make yourself cum. You've been doing this for years.

Aizawa

Aizawa swats your hand. No, no. You won't do it properly. You won't do it until you shake, cry, and run down your thighs. But he will. He won't overstimulate you if you don't want him to. He will work you through your orgasm, though. No matter how much you claw, beg, and squirm. You'd wanted to get off, and Aizawa will ensure you get every last bit out of this. He'll make sure you come in his mouth, make sure your cum slides down his chin. No matter how angry you are at yourself. No matter how hurt you feel. He can be tender—can make those thighs burn and those tits jiggle in a way you can't. "This is your clit, sweet girl. I'm gonna make it purr for you."

The last remains of his words drive into your ears as his mouth finds yours. The finger in your panties swept back and forth over the smooth, leathery skin of your clit the way a slow tide would swathe and flee a shoreline.

"Nn!" Fizzy pleasure bloomed in warm, scattered waves throughout your pelvis. You twitch forward the slightest amount, subtly humping yourself into a breathy, whining mess. "'s not a cat."

Aizawa draws a lazy circle around its sensitive edges, and your thoughts water.

"It can't—" Ah! "—caaan't purr." Your voice curled. It rose and wavered like a tilde symbol—building high and going all melted butter toward the end as you lurch into the wonderful crest of good he inspired. Your hips obeyed the spasms in your tummy and curled without decision or thought.

"It already is." It's practically vibrating. Singing.

"Can't you feel her purring?" Aizawa made the most agonizing, thigh-shuddering passes over your clit. You arch, arch (uhn, God!), arrrrrrrch into each one. Your clit is ringing, purring.

"Kitty's melting in my hand." She's really showing out for attention, wetting and trickling down his palm. Your small cravings are his responsibility, as were all your larger needs. He's your provider and caretaker. You rely on him for everything else, so why not this? When are you going to learn that Daddy does it better? He can satisfy them better than you ever could.

"Don't—don't call it that."

"But it purrs."

Oh! Oh, oh! It—it—oh, please, god, oh. He's using his nails, teeth, whatever he has. Aizawa sucks a bruise right into your neck. You shiver, squeal, and wriggle. How could a neck be this sensitive?

Aizawa doesn't budge. His heart thumps as you push at him, half-hearted. Enamored with any short amount of contact, Aizawa hums. You twist away from that, too, the sensation foreign on your skin. Aizawa takes a deep huff of your neck (your scent) and falls onto you like a dead weight. The new position traps his hand down the front of your panties and you underneath him.

"If it purrs, then it's a kitty. This cute kitty makes you a queen. And a purring queen means it's time for a litter." He's still working on you—working your clit and mons. You're soaking. You're hot. You arch into his hands, desperate, nearly out of your mind.

"Why do you have to be such a kinky bastard?"

"Because you like it." His stubble scrapes against your neck. Aizawa does it often, notably during 'quiet moments,' so you'll familiarize the sensation with safety.

Or so you suspect.

The brambly term of affection came often, but from what you gathered, it reserved itself for special occasions (you're convinced he stole it from his cats). When cramps left you withered and spent, Aizawa lifted you from the lonely little corner you'd carved for yourself underneath the kotatsu and reoriented you onto his lap for something to lean on—something to wring your grief into, should you need it. Shouta said he could take it—that he wouldn't mind—and had the scars to prove it, namely, the one beneath his eye. It was hard to argue in the face of something so tangible. Yet, it left a sour feeling of worms in your gut.

You're in pain. You don't want to be pain for someone else. You don't want to hurt him—he's never hurt you.

Just because he can doesn't mean he should.

He's pushing you forward, wanting you on your knees. "Because it gets your kitty panting."

It vibrated.

"W-who said I liked it?" Your tummy tremors and sweats as his fingers trace those hidden valleys.

"She did." Aizawa dove in for a quick, lascivious kiss. "She purred so sweetly." He lapped at your clit, hot and moist and delicious. "It must be love."

Calls your vagina 'kitty.'

He talks to it (which perturbs and delights you to no end). Cum for me, kitty. Isn't Daddy treating you nicely?

You know in your soul you aren't the 'kitty' he's referring to. Aizawa only called you kitty when you were topping. He had a habit of going into a deep mantra whenever you did. "Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty..." Aizawa sighed under his breath, sometimes moaned, and others thinly whined as you rode him and as he watched through sexed eyes progressively getting lower and lower until they would eventually close. He'd seize shortly after. And if you didn't stop, Aizawa gasped it (half-heartedly attempting to shuffle out from under you, gently pushing at your coasting thighs with jittery palms. Outside of that, you were 'kitten.'

When she obeys, Aizawa gives her kisses and licks—so many that you'd stammer and beg him to stop. He attacks with fervor, and with your weak-kneed body, he pins you there, grunts, and gives you mouthfuls of his tongue, which leads you to beg, this time more openly.

Aizawa repeatedly kissed the top of your vulva, where your clit lay beyond its folds. Such an obedient kitty. —kiss— Such a perfect darling. So good. —kiss— So perfect.

He doesn't torture you for too long. Aizawa (generally) won't overstimulate you unless you want him to. He'll even apologize. He just had to give his kitty her due.

The guiltiest (second to Toji) in pretending you're too naive and innocent to know what your clit is for, let alone how to use it. He'll smack your hand away (reawakening memories of your father swatting your chubby little hands when they had something they shouldn't).

You can insist you know what you're doing, and he'll insist you don't.

"Feel these?" You touch your outer labia. Aizawa's hand is over yours, guiding it. "These are your pretty lips." Gummy, soft, and perfect for his teeth. He'd use them for pillows if you'd let him. You wouldn't, though. There's no way Aizawa could get close enough to smell you without getting a taste.

"They'd look prettier curing my insomnia." In other words, he's telling you to ride him until he passes out, or rather, throwing out an invitation. Your lips have erased his dry eye and lifted his depression. Simply gorgeous.

"How would I..." How could your vaginal lips cure someone's depression?

"Simple," He's against your ear. His hair gave you shivers as it fanned your neck. "You sit on my face," Together, your hands rode parted lips. They kneaded love into your skin that settled in your ovaries. "and rut." Your hips went forward with a gasp, unexpected and on cue. No matter the situation, Aizawa never failed to sound like a college professor three years away from retirement. He speaks to you as he would his colleagues and students. There is no bedroom voice, growl, or husk other than his natural warmth—warmth that made you swallow from the very lips he made you touch. Made you restless on his lap.

"If you knead them gently," he says, "they'll make you feel nice." Your knees knock when Aizawa focuses on the entrance hidden in your labia, circling it. "But not as nice as this," Aizawa pats your pussy, sending ripples through your body.

Slap!

Something liquid-warm fires across your hipbones, following a path up your spine, reminding you of when Aizawa kissed you. You call his name in a panic. What is this, and why is it delicious? Unadulterated joy tore through you like a storm in Texas-May. It stole your tongue, and the thoughts it couldn't finish—stole the bones from your body. The ache reverberating in your core was a flash-bang replacing everything but Shouta's name with bright white. It rang like a bell from the ovaries out, telling the rest of your body it was in love. It scares you. "Shouta—"

Slap!

"You're alright, pretty. You're going to be a big girl and cum, that's all."

Slap!

Oh, God.

"Intense, isn't it?" His chin sits in the crook of your neck. Aizawa watched you stutter after his hand and gently convulse.

Slap!

Your body hums like a Ford Mustang at a stop light. It lurched into each tap—tipping over the crosswalk markings in the concrete, eager and desperate for him to take you over the edge. Nervous foot on the petal, it waited for green.

"Come on, pretty girl. Almost there."

Slap!

Your thighs snap shut. Pleasure so soft and sweet spreads throughout your body. The ache becomes ecstasy, and the guilt becomes glee. It swells and sways like storm clouds in New Orleans, easily hitting your lungs and filling you with the finest summer rain.

Did you think for a second Aizawa wouldn't praise you? "Yes, kitten. Yes, kitty." He's agreeing with all your sobbed gibberish, rubbing you out because he knows you won't. His finger is hard on your clit when you buck and shimmy to escape the rush—the pleasure that won't stop knocking. Again, he won't take you past what you can handle, but you're riding that coaster to the end: no stops or pauses. You're getting every single clench, every tooth-chattering, leg-shaking, hip-raising flood of absolute 'God, yes,' that follows.

Aizawa was a decent man—was. It's wrong. It goes against every code, the oath he'd taken with the acceptance of his license. He made excuses for the inexcusable. Every day he went out and fought for freedom while ignoring yours. Swift on his legs when avenging the cries of the innocent, Shouta let yours fall on deaf ears.

Hanzo

Hnng. But forced cunnilingus. Dubcon, only because you're overstimulated, and Hanzo is stubborn. If you haven't squirted, he hasn't done his job. He had his pride as a man to uphold.

Hanzo raises your hand to his lips. He kisses it, clasps it, and restrains it to the bed. "Let me tend to you. So long as you warm my bed, you won't lift a finger." He kissed your neck and collarbone. "Not for your pleasure," Hanzo gently spread your labia. "Not for mine. This time it is for you, my queen."

A shiver runs down your spine. Your mind fills itself with visions of Hanzo taking you. He never has—claimed he could never 'defile' you. That didn't stop him from fingering your clit, drawing you to orgasm, or turning you into a mess of nerve endings.

"You are divine." You're a gift from the gods. Hanzo prayed they would keep him from succumbing to temptation, but it was useless. He had never been able to resist a challenge, and this time would be no different. His prayers didn't stop his cock from sliding against his expensive sheets, wishing it were your body his seed had coated, giving the legacy he'd spent a lifetime chasing.

His queen enjoyed testing him, denying him his duty as a husband. Why trouble yourself with matters such as these when he is so capable? He had solved many puzzles and navigated treacherous waters with ease, yet she seemed to think his skills were limited to a bow and arrow. Do you truly believe he cannot satisfy your needs?

Hanzo fondled your clitoris. "This is a husband's duty."

He moved down between your thighs.

"This is a wife's duty." He said as you whimpered. "To moan as a man pleasures you. To lie back and know your body is in his hands. To take your pleasure and offer your own." His tongue found you. You writhed against the bed, unable to stop your body's rhythm from matching his tongue's motions.

"Allow me." Hanzo touched your clit the way you'd tried to, his tongue deep in your core.

You wouldn't know the first thing about settling your body's aches. That was Hanzo's business. Your hands need only grab onto his hair when it all becomes too much for you.

Hanzo is skilled with a tongue, with a cock, with a razor-edged sword.

"Let me tend to what is mine."

Hanzo kisses your thighs, thighs that a man has never kissed. Thighs that tremble and shake so terribly you fear for your health. You can't breathe. Your heart is pounding, and you feel your mind slipping away. Colors bleed into the corner of your vision, static and buzzing like an old TV.

But Hanzo keeps kissing, licking. Your thoughts slur, and your tongue is no better.

'an...H-han.. c'n.. cn't... Your eyes roll—your back arches. Tears run into your hairline; Hanzo tightens his grip on your hand as your other one blindly scrabbles at his bedsheets. "H-han! Z-z—Oh, my God..." A wash of electricity ravaged your body. Pleasure so raw and sweet your voice croaks out hoarsely, love pouring from your lips in a flood of passionate syllables.

His grasp remains firm as you jerk into his waiting tongue. You try not to. You try and fight your body's natural curl toward the very thing bathing it in pleasure—foolish woman. Hanzo tongued harder and doubled his hold to keep you pinned throughout your cries and gurgles.

Cry for me, my Goddess, my queen, so I may worship you harder. Seek my hand if you are overwhelmed. Cling to me. I promise to be your source of strength and comfort. Security is the least of a husband's duties. Make me strive for the breath of freedom, then deny it to me all at once. Show me with cries that I am worthy, yet prove with the heat in your thighs that I am nothing.

Unable to praise you to the extent he'd like, Hanzo returned your moans from deep between your clenched thighs. He licks harder and faster, and he just isn't stopping. You deserve all this and more—to drown in your own wet and swallow hard enough to see heaven.

So beautiful. —Lick— So generous to me, my queen.

Your body is a waterfall that Hanzo would happily kneel underneath. Hanzo was no Buddhist, but he believed you could purify his wretched soul. In you, he'd find redemption. Your heat could make a blind man see. Surely, it could cleanse the stain of his past.

No matter how many passes his tongue made, you had more to give.

You scratch his sheets, and Hanzo has never been so jealous. The skin of his back tingles at the mere thought of hovering above you, thrusting into you - warm, soft, and perfect as you carve into his back and warm his ear with your crying breaths.

You can feel your breath swelling, becoming a low chant of pleasure as Hanzo continues to lap at the valley between your hips. Hanzo rewards your pussy for each hungry gulp as it comes and comes and comes by flicking his tongue over its pounding entrance. Wildly twitching, it swallowed deep and hungry—a trail of wet escaped. Hanzo licked that too.

"Can't… Hanzo, can't…." You reach out desperately for the headboard, using the bed covers to help propel you forward. When this failed, you mustered all of your strength and used your core to drive yourself forward, shoving his head with a surprising force. With each attempt, you inched closer and closer toward freedom.

His hand grabs at your waist, pulling you towards him as he licks and sucks. You can feel yourself trembling on the edge of something big—an adventure you aren't ready to take.

Hanzo watches you above your knees; he looks you in the eyes as you gasp and wheeze. You plead, and the archer licks your outer lips. Hanzo sucks your clit, hums. Your words gargle in the back of your throat.

The hand in his hair turns into a fist. Hanzo moaned.

At some point, he mumbled in your folds, snippets of "goddess" and "queen" as his hips repeatedly struck the mattress. The groans he's making have your ovaries flushing, your cunt fluttering. Hanzo's panting by the end, but he doesn't stop licking.

Hanzo, for all his dignity and grace, wants you to put him on his knees. Make him work and beg for air. Then, smother him.

Can you imagine Hanzo pinning you to the bed, claiming he's wronged you and needs to atone? You can scream that you forgive him, that it's unnecessary, but he won't accept it. What good is forgiveness if he doesn't earn it?

Or, he goes down on you before every Overwatch mission to "strengthen his mind and body" to better prepare.

"H-Hanzo. Why—" You bit your finger to keep from moaning (squirming). You don't need any bruises. Your hips still bear the thick shape of his fingers.

"Why not just—ah!—just train more?"

"You are the only meditation I need."

Hanzo’s bed once filled itself with women from all walks of Asia. Sojiro filled his bed with women from all walks of Asia. Differing accents, differing traditions. Same economic status. None of them would have been good enough for his father. The thirst for an heir may not have originally been his own, but the need still burned beneath his painted skin. The dragons grew restless, for Hanzo’s desire was their own. The dragon lord had never truly given up on his future children.

Unconsciously plays into your worship kink

Step on him

Physically a virgin, spiritually a whore

Not inexperienced, per se. The terms by which Hanzo lost his virtue weren't his own, so Hanzo ignored them.

Vanilla in theory and theory alone. Missionary, no anal. Ever. But he'd clean his spend from your 'temple' (inside and out) in gratitude and penance. First, for deeming him worthy of such a privilege. Second, for dirtying you and finishing without your consent.

He's kneeled at your feet, kissing them and offering his sacrifice.

It's all amusement and spectacle until he asks what punishment you deem suitable for his transgression.

Is he serious? You came three times in the last forty minutes.

You should be at his feet. You could never cum like that on your own.

Hanzo decides for you

You're shuffling off the bed when he reaches for his bow

He expects you to use honorifics after his name. You are his wife, and he is your husband. You must address him with respect.

Call him 'lord Hanzo' in jest, and the archer closes in on himself. Memories of a life he'd long abandoned close in on all sides. He kindly asks that you don't tease him in such ways. You know nothing of his past. Hanzo doesn't blame you for his reaction to your words; you only meant to play with him, as a wife should. Humor, and not ridicule. (Not that he thought himself undeserving of it. If a divine creature decided he needed humbling, who was he to feel any different?

Hanzo shies from titles that place him above you, "master, King, God, etc."

Jesse McCree

"Now," Jesse stood with his hands resting on his belt, the light from its buckle glinting off into your eyes and reflecting the terror you felt. His hips tilt to one side as he observes you silently. "Why doncha tell me again what you were hopin' to accomplish with them tiny little hands o' yours."

Panic flashed in your eyes because Jesse widened his stance and raised his hands.

You still scramble further up the bed.

"Nah, ya ain't in trouble," Jesse said as he removed his hat and tossed it on the side of your dresser. Always mindful of Ma's etiquette lessons, Jesse knew better than to enter a lady's room wearing his hat. Was impolite. You don't enter a lady's room 'less you come naked. "Pity she didn't teach me to knock," he added with a smile.

Confusion twisted your features. Jesse often said things that you weren't sure how to interpret.

His slow smile told you he was a man looking out after his own. It made your heart beat faster. He wasn't here to hurt you.

"Just show Uncle Jesse what you were up to 'fore I came in." He moved closer, the bed frame squeaking beneath his boots. "Lemme see what you got," he said. Jesse reached out, and you flinched.

But his hands only brushed a finger across your cheek, pushing away a strand of hair. "Ya got somethin' special in those hands," he said gently as his fingers pressed against your skin.

You become aware of the hands covering your modesty. You glance at your bare thighs out of habit when Jesse references the heat between them.

"Come on now, don't get all bashful," He said before you could try to hide under the blankets. You had a way of scurrying off like a little mole whenever he teased you too much. Shy, sweet, and gentle. He could eat you up for days.

"Show me how ya touch 'er when you're all alone."

You pull your cami over your thighs to deter those mocha-brown eyes. Jesse raised a brow that was just as dark. "Ya ain't got nothin' to hide, girl. I already seen it all." He said. Good-natured, southern charm oozed from his every sentence. Yet, you still felt like you were standing in the principal's office and caught doing something wrong.

But Jesse smiled as though what he said was meant to make you feel better. He leaned down, kissing your forehead as if it were the world's most natural thing.

"I'm… I'm loud.." Your knees draw together.

His smile was lopsided. "Good thing all the gunfire and explosions drown out hearing." He said, referencing the hearing aids he wore in his ears.

Did you think a little thing like that would ever be a problem? Bless your sweet little heart.

You weren't sure what to say. 'I'm sorry?' Would he think you're pitying him?

But he just let out a chuckle and shook his head. "Don't sweat it, sugar." A large palm ruffled your hair affectionately. "Now, why don't you show Uncle Jess what you were playin' with?" He asked again, his voice a little more playful this time.

"You..you really can't hear?" You fidgeted with the hem of your cami, not wanting to make eye contact.

His grin widened, "Not a thing." Jessie lied. "I'll even take 'em out if ya want." He started to take off his hearing aids, but you stopped him.

"No, no! That's... That's not necessary." You said quickly.

"Well, alright then." He said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"How's 'bout you let this old cowboy have that weapon yer holdin'?"

Weapon?

"Oh, she's lethal." Jesse winced playfully. "One could take out a man if it's aimed properly."

"She?" You asked, curious.

Jesse held back the brunt of his laughter. "Yer pussy, sugar. It's a she."

Your expression has him losing his composure. He had the courtesy to turn away and chuckle. The insult on your face had him in stitches.

"Well, shoot." He said after a while, finally managing to compose himself. "I ain't mean to make no fun of ya. Just thought you'd like to know your kitty got a name."

Your body ran hot, and your heart thumped against your chest. You can't believe how Jesse made you feel with just a few words and one little joke. You could see the mischievous glint in his eyes and knew he would make you squirm again.

"Respectfully, I'm gonna need to see those hands of yours." He said, that same southern gentleness in his voice like before.

Jesse whistled as your hands lifted, low and appreciative.

"I'll be damned..." You're sweet enough to top his apple pie. If he had it, Jesse would've held his hat to his chest; those thighs could carry him through the Arizona desert.

"You can take my breath away any day," Jesse said with a grin. He drank those thighs ten times over before they'd self-consciously shut. He was drunk on you as he was on moonshine.

"Hands back on your holster. Show me how you use it."

With his boot planted firmly on the mattress, brown eyes staring you down, you touched yourself. You'd jumped at the first brush of a hesitant finger against the peach fuzz clothing your mons—prickly and on its way to growing—cold fingers startling skin that hardly ever felt a temperature change. You've never been more thankful for those stubborn hairs that always grew back despite your best efforts. It offered a level of decency—privacy—during a private act made public. You map your vulva, getting a feel for it. Your legs spread as you become more comfortable with the movements and sensations that kiss you nightly when the house is sleep—as comfortable as you could be with a man like Jesse McCree looming over you.

You were very aware of him—his presence, his smell. You could feel him in your veins as you touched yourself, and he watched. He dared not move a muscle lest it scared you off.

The situation might be foreign, but the sweetness in your abdomen isn't. The toe-curling warmth made you want to rock and hum into its beautiful calm. It took the stress out of a very stressful situation. How odd to find yourself tense in the middle of your go-to stress relief.

You moved with clinical precision, not for pleasure but to show Jesse you weren't helpless. You felt like the Tin Man—joints stiff, robotic, and locking together when thoughts of what you were doing and in front of whom caught up to you. The need to defend yourself from any infantilism oiled them and kept them going. Your breath gets heavier as the pleasure builds inside of you, regardless.

Could you even cum like this?

Doubtful.

There wasn't anything too exciting about tracing up and down your lips, still wet from the 'exercise,' Jesse interrupted. Your clit still pulsed despite cologne tickling your nose like spice (or maybe because of it).

He was so close.

With the scent of tobacco and leather on his clothes, Jesse Mccree had your undivided attention. You can't look at him, but the thought of staring into those deep brown eyes while you circled your clit and cried the prettiest you could make you swallow down below. Your clit throbs, and you massage it before you can stop yourself. You play with the hood, fragile and unsure. It isn't enough, but you don't want to appear indecent. God, if only you could throw open your legs and—

"That ain't how ya do it. Touchin' 'er like that, bet you don't even know what she's called."

Of course, you do. It's a vagina. Not a 'her,' not a 'she.' You told him so.

"Aw, now. You'll hurt 'er feelings. Tell me what you call 'er, darl.'"

"It… it's my vagina." You emphasize the word 'it.'

Jesse shook his head. Shoulda knew you'd call 'er somethin' dull and childish.

"Move aside, sugar." Jesse motioned for you to stand. A cigarillo was all that was needed to complete the toothy grin as he sat, cybernetic hand hitting his thigh. "Come sit on Papa's lap. He's gon' show ya what she's for. How to touch 'er."

You stood uncertain before him, blanket held to your sex. The red fabric pooled between your legs and onto the floor.

"I don't bite, sugar." He said. It's the softest you'd ever heard him.

Your lips thin to a pensive line.

This is a bad idea. But the prospect of this man sipping you like he did his whiskey was thrilling.

You look past him toward his hat on the dresser, and the blanket drops. So do Jesse's eyes. But that grin? It stretches to something boyish, handsome, and white. He savors, just as you'd hoped; he savored himself so fully your legs ache to cross over each other. He's fixated on your vagina. You hope he can't see it swallow.

"This is your little pussy." Jesse spread you open with two fingers. You squirm on his thick thighs. He's mountainous and warm against your back; you hardly cover two-thirds of his broad chest. He must spray cologne directly on it. Woodsy Pine and Old Spice took you to a campfire with marshmallows and Southern folklore. You don't think about the chestnut hairs peeking out of his flannel. You can't. You'll die.

"This is your pretty little pussy." He rubbed your fatty, wet lips with four fingers—rough and widened in a V-shape.

Your vag—your pussy clenches, tingly.

"You may have touched 'er before," He swiped your clit side-to-side, hitting nerve endings that had you bucking on his tan, human finger. "but I'll teach you how to spoil 'er." He dipped one deep inside.

"And fill 'er up."

Your cries are as helpless as your hips as they help him fuck your pussy open. He stretches her so good you can't recall when you began referring to her as a she. You fuck yourself on his fingers until pleasure gushes from your cunt.

An involuntary gasp escapes your lips as he collects his first load in his fingers. You're there.

"You wanna cum, and I can make it happen, sugar." Jesse held you as you shook. Robotic arm slung over your waist, he let you use his finger to draw out your end. He pumped into you occasionally—lazy and matching your weakening thrusts.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' greedy. Uncle Jesse will let ya have seconds if ya want 'em."

You just keep goin', doncha? You're a lil fighter—pushin' those shuddery hips forward even as you gasp and choke.

Ya weren't lyin'. Yer loud. Not in a cutesy way, either. You're raw, unapologetic.

Jesse loves it.

Nothin' worse than a woman who does all that dainty shit.

You cried so long and hard your voice tapered into a husk.

"These fingers were made for women. Made for touchin' 'em." Any internalized shame blew in the wind when Jesse used his thumb to swipe your sensitive clit. You groan like a cavewoman. Guttural, primal.

"Made for makin' 'em come. You gonna come for me again?"

You're already trembling, unable to get your tongue working as you tighten on his fingers.

"There ya go, sugar. Cum like I'm gettin' it in. Goin' six inches deep and cummin' hard on 'er lips." Jesse pumped his fingers deep again as you began panting, panicking—he was insistent on getting you off—a knot of orgasm tightened in your waist until you snapped like a whip against your backside and seized.

"Ain't nothing wrong with cryin'."

You can't stop shaking. Crying. Tears fall off your chin, and you don't know where they came from. At this moment, you're a helpless baby—wailing and hoping he understands. You need him to fuck the soul from your body. You need him to stop.

"I've got somethin' of a confession," Mccree said, his drawl thickening with each syllable. The thumb on your clit sent his words through one ear and out the other. He's knuckle-deep in your cunt and seated near your pleasure spot as he slowly curls into it. You curl with him, hot and whining.

"I may be aurally challenged, but I can still hear you, sugar." You're drooling in every figurative sense—mentally and emotionally sloshed from the pump of his heavy fingers. "Every time you whisper my name at night." He said, his tone low and warm.

Your thighs clamp around his hand.

Fiery shame swept like lava and left coals on your chest, leaving you with prickly, uncomfortable goosebumps.

Oh, now we can't have that.

You've stopped chasing his hand, chasin' that release you'd wanted so bad.

A gentleman, Jesse puts in enough work for both of you. If you aren't meetin' him, he'll have to try that much harder, won't 'e?

God, what would your family think? They'd shun you. Getting off to thoughts of your captor's big, impossibly wide hands instead of biting them.

This needs to stop.

Oh, but you can't. You're grinding on his finger again, helpless to stop. It's so good. It's too fucking good.

"That's it. Get it, sugar." Jesse starts flying in and out of your thighs. Something coughs from your throat like a drowned victim spitting up water. You grab his wrist for stability and don't make it halfway around.

"That's what I like to fuckin' see," Jesse growled.

Fuck it. You'd let him pull your panties aside and cream your pussy right there on your bed with your family in the doorway for them to see every desperate clench it made, each spasm in the base of his cock as it emptied inside their precious daughter, sister, and loved one. They could watch the conception of their grandchild and niece/nephew for all you care.

"Jesse! Oh god. Feels good!"

"Sounds even better up close." Mccree chuckled. Breathy, strained. As if it'd come through gritted teeth. His cock pressed into your ass—hard and hot. He made no attempts to relieve it.

"You come to Uncle Jesse when your pussy needs some lovin', ya hear?"

He pulled out, leaving you so, so empty.

You quickly nodded. No, no. Please put it back! He'd stopped touching your clit.

Jesse doesn't leave you empty much longer now that he has an answer. "You let ol' Jess handle it. I'll give the lil lady what she wants."

You're too damn polite. Callin' 'im 'sir.' He ain't no 'sir.' Jesse would tell you to stop if he ain't like it so much.

He pretends to hate it, gives you grief about it, but let you come 'round askin' for somethin'. Jesse stops you mid-sentence and tells you to call 'im that thing he likes.

"Come on, honey. You'll make me feel old."

Your name might as well be 'pretty.'

"C'mere, pretty. Wanna show ya somethin' real quick."

Toji Fushiguro

It's one of those days.

Toji stood in your doorway, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. He had a can of beer in his left hand and a race ticket in the other. You should be happy to see him. There's no milk, and your stomach could grow teeth and devour. Your heart drops instead. The paper had as many wrinkles as a white shirt straight from the dryer. Crumpled, meaning he'd lost. The one Toji wore was stretched and spent. He hadn't come home last night. A sour odor of alcohol told you why. Toji celebrated his losing streaks with bottles of sake at the bar. Usually, he'd be out looking for a job to 'make up what he lost,' as he'd always promised.

The hunt must've been unsuccessful if he had been back so soon.

Toji was bitter before he'd even come in the door. Catching you with your fingers in your pajama pants put him over the edge.

"What ya doin' touchin' what's mine?"

Toji scoffed when you continued giving him that owlish stare.

"Y'think I'm good for nothin', dont'cha." His posture remains loose and bored, his tone detached. The slip crinkled in his balled fist.

This isn't going to end well.

"Of course no—"

"You ain't gotta lie, Seven."

Toji was more superstitious than met the eye. He set you up in his home like a Maneki-Neko for good luck and fortune, laughable.

You aren't lucky. Trouble raced after you like tin cans on an exhaust pipe, with your situation to prove it.

Trouble stepped further into your room—swept across your floor like tumbleweed, kicking the ground with every slow, drunken step. Trouble knelt on your bed, knocked your plushies off to the side, and snatched your arm when you scurried.

"Y'think I'm a deadbeat." Trouble pulled you under him and ripped your pajamas off your hurling legs. His triceps bulged beneath his tee as his hips rolled into your cunt, wet and bare. He held you still to take each stubborn, mouth-watering rut. "Think I can't take care of ya anymore."

Toji's still beating the headboard into the wall as you quake around his thighs. Frantic hands tear at his upper back, tugging his shirt for him to go harder despite the worrying cracks and splinters of wood.

"'m gon' prove you wrong." Toji put his weight on his elbows and fucked you like he meant it. He'd buck forward and knock your eyes to your skull.

'God, yes,' is all you can think as he presses you into the mattress and shoves into you until you can't get air. 'More, more, more.'

"Gonna make you cum so hard you wet yourself," he growled in your ear. "Gonna make you scream and cry." And he did.

"Oh God, Toji!"

Toji rabbits at the first sign of tears. "I'm gonna fuck you right to hell."'

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God, oh—uhn!"

Spleck!

Your thighs squeeze and judder into his cock. Wetness dribbles past your lips regardless of how tightly you clench your legs. You cum hard—the spasms in your cunt deep and violent. So fucking slutty and messy.

"God!" The word tore from your throat in a ragged sob. Feral. Hysterical.

There's no way you should clamp this fiercely. It's been so long Toji let you tighten up. He needed to stretch you back out. This pussy should be loose and sticky always. A constant fullness to fill the pangs and help you forget your troubles.

You wanna be fucked.

You wanna be bred.

"A little girl like you don't know what you're doin'." Toji got between your thighs and licked you from slick perineum to juicy clit.

"Says you." In your head, you're pushing his face deeper into your sex, hand in his hair as you grind on his tongue. 'Show me, baby; show me. Show me what I'm too stupid to do.'

Toji eats you alive.

His fingers brush up your bum while he tongues you into orgasm. Toji piles your juices on his fingers and licks them clean, again and again.

"Lookit how excited she gets." Toji rests on his knees. The crotch of his sweatpants is a darker shade of black and damp from your sex.

"She can't quit talkin'." Spasming, spitting, and wetting.

His cock is visible, sitting on his lower left thigh, right above his knee. A footpath of the same dark shade runs down his left pant leg.

Did he cum? Did he cum just from eating you out? Was that fat, ruddy cockhead drooling over the very hint of your sex when he'd rutted against you before?

There's something so primal about him kneeling over you, your juices on his tongue, his cock jutting out so proudly, hung like a horse between your thighs. It makes you aware of just how filthy this whole act is, how raw.

You can smell yourself on him, and your legs self-consciously close.

"Still think you know how to get this pussy to clamp as she should?" Toji's voice was low and gruff.

"No." You whimpered.

"Then why the fuck are you playing with my clit?"

"I wasn't playing with it! I was just..."

"You won't even squeeze your thighs together without askin' when I'm finished," his lips close around your clit.

Toji licks every slippery skin fold and nibbles your clit until it's throbbing. You fuck his mouth with your hips, desperate. You reach deep, guttural tones no woman should.

Would nut if you called him 'sir.'

Call him 'sir,' and he'll call you 'ma'am.' Especially in bed. It's shamelessly kinky, given the age gap between you. Might just call you mommy if you're okay with it. You're still under your parent's insurance and barely have a driver's license. Your wisdom teeth haven't come in, and here this forty-year-old man was calling you mommy.

And if you are? Agreeable with it, that is? Toji does his best to make you one.

He missed out on Megumi. Thoughts of another child hadn't crossed his mind until he was deep in your green, twenty-something pussy calling you mommy in that aged murmur.

You love everything he's saying. "Gon' fuck a baby into your teenage pussy—get you pregnant." Toji liked to poke at your age. He'd call you a teenager when you're particularly difficult. Little girls can't talk to me like that. Those nights remained the same. Toji fucked you on the floor and bred you until you couldn't speak. Cum ran from your entrance in a thin, constant stream. Milky, thick-flowing, and filthy. You just need some good lovin'; that's all it is—needed attention. You didn't know how to ask for it without pitchin' a fit like a child.

Make-up sex where he'd hold your hands as your thighs shook. Toji made up for leaving the cabinets empty by leaving your thoughts emptier. Cramming you six inches full of excess and relief, Toji filled you over and over until debt became greed. He's slow, thorough—men his age typically were. Toji was no boy. Wasn't in no hurry to finish. Thrusting between your hips, deep and thick in your cunt and inches from your face, Toji murmured, "'m gon' set it right."

You love what he's saying so much your appreciation lands on the base of his cock and lower abdomen as you squirt. "Dirty little girl. Dirty teenage pussy, begging for her senpai's cum." He burns right through your chest.

The words, "What are you going to do about it?" sit on your tongue.

"Gonna breed that pussy good. Gon' get you pregnant. Get you knocked up." Toji tugs your legs up higher, pulling you into his body as he snaps his hips. He thrusts into you, quick and hard.

Give it to me, give it to me. Put a baby in me. Oh, God, fuck me!

"Pussy'll be so sweet with my cum between those pretty, swollen lips. Might just eat it. Might have to. Might be all the sugar I need."

Muscles jump in your lower belly. Toji grinned above you, rotten, when your pussy quivered. Toji is feral when he gets his face between your legs, unlike any man you've met. The enthusiasm for your pleasure as he dug, sucked, licked, and scraped with his tongue (all while his right hand held your slippery cunt open for him to discipline and drink down) was primal and terrifying. It had you there in minutes. He had no direction, no idea, and no technique. All he had was the hell-driven desire to please you—make you come fast and hard 'many times as he could before his tongue gave out.

Every little thing you told him to do. That's all he had. You asked for more, and he gave it. You tell him to scratch that itch between your thighs, and he knows exactly what that means—squeezing his cock into your too-small ass. From there, all you did was tell him what you wanted, and he performed like a dog with a bone.

Toji wasn't above holding you down so that you took your pleasure on his face, fingers, and lips.

No, this dog took every ounce of his strength and overpowered your body to ensure he got his pound of flesh. What sorta man was he if he couldn't please his woman? An embarrassment, that's what. You ain't gonna insult him and walk away with steady legs.

"Gonna ride that pussy, make it mine."

Ride me, baby. Oh, God, yes!

Toji hunkers over you—that thick, heady scent of sweat, cologne, and body heat. He smells good. "Bet this teenage cunt loves feeling like it's mature, getting filled and stretched into a mommy's pussy." He's telling you how you'll look so good with your freshly creamed pussy.

Wanna be slutty for you. Make this pussy creamy.

"Gon' get that cervix wet. You'd better drink up, girl."

God, you'll drink every last white drop of it. You're already spasming.

"There she goes talkin'. Swallowin’. She's thirsty." Toji tilts your face towards him. "Boy or girl? Which one ya like?"

You struggle—feebly pressing his chest with jellied wrists to get him up and off of you. Out of you. You have to keep yourself from melting outward and running onto the sheets when he snatches you up in his arms as if you were nothing and hemmed you to the bed, hemmed you to his chest in a bear hug, and fucked you. He caged you beneath him and held you there. You’re held down and bred. Pre-cum drooled out of you onto the pillow like the real thing. Each thrust sent your hips violently into him, bobbing, circling, and returning to meet him as you rubbed your slick folds against his cock when it slipped out. He had you humping his wet dick like a bitch in heat. That was you on him. He's covered in you. He hugged you so hard that the bed felt like a paper bag under you.

"Ain't no running. Y'gon' take this dick. Take this apology."

"Don't! Don't—" The fight to free your arms was heavy and impossible as he lined himself up just as quickly as he'd left. Eager to fill. Eager to please. Hands trapped between your sweaty bodies, you settle for pushing against his stifling weight despite rising to help him resettle himself. And God, do you feel like home. Comforting, warm. He can already smell Ma's cooking. Slick, like the blood of his bounties. 'Specially when his bosses demanded a trophy as proof of his service.

White. All you see are the whites of his eyes as Toji's cock overfilled you to bursting, assisted by your curved spine and lofted hips.

He does it so gently—sliding into you like a Spanish kiss. Indulgent. Letting you admire the breadth of him, the ridge of cockhead that made your walls flutter and sing as it moved through you like drugs flooding a bloodstream, peddling euphoria throughout every corner of your body until you were floating and light in the giddy breeze of his possession. He looks demonic, possessed. Your cunt groaned from how full it was, glutted. Feel-good chemicals left you gooey and barely conscious as he stroked into you, exactly where you needed him and weren't ready for him. The deep grinds into your G-spot had you losing your breath, but he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop fucking you.

Uhhhn, God. Your eyes flutter. Your walls squeeze him against your will. You could kiss him.

"N-noooo, you can't. Don't cum in my pussy." You moaned. "Don't—hnn!—don' cum..." Your arms close around his waist, hips arching and rocking like you couldn't decide what you wanted more, to push him off of you or get creampied in one go. Bred.

"Mommy, ya gotta tell me." Your pussy clamps. Fissures of resistance disappear like they never existed when Toji calls you "mommy" like it's a sin. He's whispering dirty in your ear as if he knew your secrets. As if he knew you were two pumps and one shuddery male moan away from pleading the exact opposite.

"Tell me, Mommy, so I can do it for you." Toji's voice had gone sugary-sweet and deep.

But no...no. Nnn. No. "You… can't...do that." It's cheating. He's cheating.

"Tell me how you want this baby."

God, it just feels so good. You want him to cream you. Breed you. You like the fantasy of it all (it gets you wetter than anything), but he isn't financially stable, and you're no mother.

"We can't! Not 'nough money." Your lips don't sing lullabies. They sang heartache and blues. Emotionally immature and mentally thin, you're no mother. The slightest inconvenience, and you're ready to cannonball off a bridge.

"Ain't what I asked ya." Toji put you in a headlock. Ears hot and pounding, you twist and thrash as best you can underneath him. He doesn't leave you much room to grapple—still bearing down on you with all his strength and thrusting. 'Overwhelming' couldn't begin to capture the wave of shivers washing over you. Toji scratches that itch inside of you so good it nearly hurts. God, it's good—the beating he gives that secret, special place you can never reach alone. Where fingers clench into knots, your womb feels like a fever. You're in heaven. Your thighs burn from all that friction. You're in hell. Your body wants nothing more than to let out a primal scream as you battle to cope with the intensity. It takes you a few moments to realize you are—hollering in absolute hysteria. You unclench your fingers long enough to shove fruitlessly at his chest, claw at his arms and pelvis.

The thick arms caging your head tighten. "Answer. Or I’ll put one in your backside."

"Girl!" You shouted—voice rough and strangled behind his grip.

"A lil princess just like 'er Mama." Toji bucked into you, closing his eyes with a groan. When they opened, they stared down at your hostile mouth. If there was one body part of yours Toji was fascinated by, it was your lips.

He's been staring at them while he fucked you, lust in his eyes. Toji watched them threaten and plead.

"You get off me, or I'll—" Your words clung thickly together, dragged in places they shouldn't as if they were moaned.

"I'll..." Your lashes fall to your cheeks as Toji moves down, nose rumbling softly with steamy breath as he latches onto a nipple and sucks.

Your cunt swallowed and sang; you rose to meet his next push. The way his tongue and teeth work together on that sensitive spot is enough to make you light-headed.

"I'll..."

Toji stared at you, expression unreadable as ever. "You'll what, Mommy?"

He watched 'em gasp and form his name. He needed 'em. Needed 'em more than his own mother's rotted eyes.

"You'll cum?" He ground into you, and you gasped.

"Yes." You wrapped your arms and legs around him. God, your skin was on fire.

Toji released your breast and latched onto your mouth instead, groaning against your lips. His tongue flicked inside, and you opened wide.

"H-harder. Toji, I'm—"

Ughn!

Toji hits it like he couldn't miss—rutting, grinding, and humping into that sacred spot. Your kiss had him rabbiting and murmuring, moaning, and biting. He was gasping. He was growing—swelling at the base of his cock. He was coming apart.

Seeing you thoroughly enjoy yourself and falling apart on his cock has Toji's hips faltering. Mama's never yelled for 'im quite like that before. He had mama screamin', had 'er eyes rollin' back. Had her thrusting on his cock like she wanted her green, little pussy filled—wanted his kid.

"Sound so good, Mommy." He's coming already, eyes shut as the first few spurts escape him. Toji's thrusts deepen each time you moan. He'd shiver, pushing hard into your g-spot. He spoiled it for every hunger pain while he was away.

"Hands." His voice shook with effort—the physical strain of staving himself off.

When you don't immediately respond, Toji's head rests on your shoulder—miserable like an old dog. "y'know I can't cum without 'em. Know I need 'em."

His breaths come in rough pants. "I'm gonna cum, Mommy. Imma go right up your pussy and spill my seed."

"Toji—" You squirm, "Toji, don't!" You'd damn near drooled as the first squirt of hot cum hit your pussy, unconsciously bucking into him for the umpteenth time.

You beg Toji not to cum inside you, hugging him and pumping those hips all the while. Desperately, at that. A man's gotta wonder.

"Let me apologize, mama," he said between labored breaths. "Let me give you this baby." His fingers pry into yours, clutching them against the mattress as he rutted and sighed into you. "Let me."

"No." You fight. "No, no, no, no, no! No. Don't!"

His thrusts pick up as you try and wrangle free.

"I forgive you, Toji! I forgive—"

Toji licked into your mouth, grabbed onto your hips, and emptied himself in a long, thick stream. He shivered in your arms through spurts and convulsions, letting you swallow his shuddered alphabet of husky groans.

You can't help but buck into each warm shot of his seed. You're a whore. And you're tired of pretending you're not.

You're still moaning for him not to cum inside you as he does just that, pushed up against your G-spot, gently grinding you toward an orgasm of your own.

He could've positioned himself at your cervix and got all nice and snug, but then he would've missed the sleepy look on your face. Eyelids hung low, mouth parted—sated, full, and still working that pussy against him, swallowing miserably around him because it hasn't cum. She will. He'll show ya he ain't useless, that he's good for somethin'.

Besides, they'll swim. He doesn't need to be lined up to hit a target. It'll be fine once you're shiverin' against him; you'll send 'em right where they need to be.

"Please don't, sir." You said, still thrusting through the zips and tapering shocks of your orgasm. Your arms are helpless, bumbling, and unresponsive.

'Sirs' nice and all, but he'd prefer 'Mister.'

Author’s Note: This was Valentine's gift for myself and I decided to share it. If this performs well, I'll finish the second installment. The next part will feature Erasermic, Bob Velseb, Daddy Dearest, Mommy Mearest, and a fourth character I haven't decided on.

Tips: Please consider tipping if you're well-fed. It would incentivize me to keep sharing. https://ko-fi.com/pumpknpie

©️pumpkin-pi-e | Do not copy, edit, paraphrase, plagiarize, translate, or borrow from my work. I do not give my consent for any of my works to be reposted. I only write on Tumblr. Should you find this anywhere else, please alert me because it was stolen.

For your listening pleasure:

The title was based on the song below.

Do Not Interact - Writers and blogs who actively write white-coded reader inserts (blush, turn red, a flush of color). I can’t eat at your table, and I don’t want you at mine. You will be blocked. Blank blogs will also be blocked.

[anari3l]

WELCOME TO THE WOOD!

Requests are always open. Send asks or submissions for fanfics.

This is not a safe space for minors. If you're under 18, please go away.

I refuse to write anything involving: pedophilia, rape, incest, yandere. I WILL delete asks with any of the above.

I will write: angst, consensual smut, fluff.

Fandoms I write for: Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit, Red Dead Redemption, Overwatch, Dragon Age, Baldur's Gate 3, Hell on Wheels (AMC), Fallout 4, Assassin's Creed

I am also on AO3 as kaclydid

AO3 Links:

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[ablobwhowrites]

AHHHH SORRY IF YOU THOUGHT I WAS A BOT I SWEAR IM NOT, I PROMISE IM A HUMAN I CHANGED MY PFP AND STUFF JUST PLS GIVE ME MY GAY YANDERE MCCREE

NO NO ITS OKAY BRO! I did but seeing the request I knew it was a person but for bot like profile pic's please change them into something else like a flower or something, so people can see you as a actual person then a bot, I'm working ont all request but burn out got me but Im powering through it

[yandere-genji]

Bw McCree being a generally gross creep trying to get his target into bed GO

Ok but hb BW McCree just being a huge creep in general???

•One of the most feared and admired agents in all of Blackwatch actively making your life hell so you can fall into his spell.

•Doesn’t even speak to you at first, just sends hateful glances across the room. If looks could kill, you could’ve dropped dead right there. He has a way of staring into you that give you chills.

•Talks all nasty things about you before he even interacts with you, doubting you abilities aloud to Reyes, openly insulting you in front of Genji.

•”Only use for them is bait, damn fool can’t even walk straight.”

•This could also have something to do with the fact that you make him feel things he’d rather ignore and pretend to find reasons to hate you for.

•And you’re pretty sure he hates you.

•That is until you and some other agents are assigned to train with him. You don’t even speak to him much then, either, but seeing how you act with some of your friends. Well, he gets to falling for you real fast.

•You notice that while he still stares at you, you catch his eyes much less as they trail up and down your body. Sometimes, when walking past him reclining on a chair, cigar hanging from his lips, you can hear a long, silent whistle.

•It only gets worse from there.

•McCree following you wherever you go, most of the time without you even noticing. Whispering rumors to your friends about your disinterest in them to the point that they break all ties with you. Threatening you with his power, not only professionally but physically, until you give him whatever he wants.

•He’s been watching you for a while at this point and knows what makes you tick, what he can use against you to get into your head.

•”M’so glad you decided to be good for me, sweetheart. Wouldn’t wanna hurt that pretty little face of yours.”

[sxnxsterdrabblings]

just something to think about... :)

—NSFW UNDER THE CUT

You suffer from anxiety. Ordering a meal on your own and going to the grocery store are enough to send you into panic mode. Your best friend/neighbor invites you over for thanksgiving, and promises it’s only a small gathering, so you decide to go. And it is, really, but it’s still got you riled up. You kept making eye contact with a very tall, gruff man baring a heavy accent.

When everyone makes haste into the living room to chat over a glass of wine, the man pulls you to the side and introduces himself as Mccree. His voice is smooth, low, and very calming. He tells you he’s noticed your twitching and nervous looks, and that he’ll walk you out if you’d like. You shyly nod, look up at him, and let a quiet thank you slip your lips. When you reach your door, he slips you his number for any future times you may need his help, and you would have told him that it was fine and this was enough from him, but he was gone as soon as he came. You couldn’t help but admit it made you feel warm inside.

One day a couple months later you really need to go out and do laundry, because yours has so conveniently stopped working. So you do, but it’s packed, and you’ve bumped into a couple people with angry glares and now you’re panicking. You barely manage to text an “I need you”

It really wasn’t the best choice of words, but it was enough, and it was short enough to be typed as fast as you needed him to be there.

He asks where you are, but you’re too busy shaking in the bathroom hearing all the commotion outside. Before you know it, he’s carrying you out of the bathroom and taking your keys out of your pockets, whispering to you that it’s going to be alright and rubbing a hand down your back. He unlocks the car and places you in the passenger seat. Then, he leaves and comes back with your loads of laundry. You shakily whisper a thank you. He nods and says “It’s no problem, darlin’.” Then he takes you home.

You thank him again and when you walk inside, you notice a pair of panties missing. It’s no big deal, they’re small and could have easily been left in the machine or fallen from the basket. Little do you know, you never actually told him where you were, and he’s home jacking off to the smell of you, planning when to take more than just your underwear home with him. He already has blueprints of a cozy little room to build into the basement for you, with locks of course. What could he say? Watching you for those few months before this day was the best choice he’s ever made.

Ever since he was invited to that first thanksgiving by an old friend and saw you, it was meant to be. You were so enticing and shy, he couldn’t help but envision himself taking care of you. He thought it might be crazy, but then he heard your voice. It struck him in all the right places, and seeing you look up at him being so timid and quiet? You were doomed from the moment you laid eyes on him.

[1800areyouslapping]

What I imagine yandere mccree leaving in readers house

Imagine a delusional yandere!McCree, who did this because he’d been stalking you for a while. He’s in love and in his head, he thinks the two of you are already together. He’s biding his time, but one day he sees you going out with another man. And to him, that’s like cheating. So, he breaks into your house. He was only going to leave you that note and leave. But McCree changes his mind and stays… You come home late, and he waits for you in the shadowy recesses of your home. That note ^ is the last thing you see before he knocks you out and takes you with him. Intent on making you pay for breaking his heart like this.

[hoshihiime]

to anyone who has seen the musical Waitress and loves Yandere!Mccree.

Consider the song You Will Still Be Mine

you are welcome

[saltyteru]

The Wolf (Part Two)

Yandere! McCree

Part One

Weeks passed by slowly.

You hated it here.

You hated the sight of the man who held you captive. You couldn’t stand to look at him, only feeling disgust when your eyes grazed his in brief eye contact when he’d go into the basement of what you assumed to be his house. You hated the cold cement walls that trapped you and the unbreakable windows you had tried to shatter on many occasions. You hate the bed your ankle had been chained to and the books you’ve read countless times. You couldn’t handle it anymore.

You wanted out. You needed out!

Why was he even keeping you here? Did you something you weren’t supposed to? As a way to get back at you? To never let you go? To ruin your life? Maybe even ruin you?

A shiver shot down your spine as you tried to find his reasoning for kidnapping you; it was always the same few that stayed in your mind, you weren’t able to think of much else.

The stairs suddenly creaked, peeking your attention. Your eyes quickly shot to the wooden staircase, the same one you ran up to escape maybe 3 months ago; days blended into each other and you eventually lost track of time. A pair of cowboy boots came into view as your kidnapper walked down the stairs. Your mouth went dry as you attempted to swallow your anxiety.

‘What does he want now?” You thought to yourself, sitting on your bed, feeling the soft mattress as you moved back, stopping once your back hit the cement, your eyes making contact with those of Jesse’s.

“Why do you always look at me like that, Darlin?” He said as he stood before you, taking in your frightened form, “You always look so scared, like I’m boutta eat ya.”

“Please just let me go.” Your voice was weak, a newly developed raspiness due to a lack of water that you began to refuse to drink, thinking that the man was mixing something in to keep you frail after the last time you had almost escaped this nightmare, “Please.”

“Aw, now Sweetpea, you know I can’t do that.” He chuckled, his eyes running over every inch of your body, taking notice of your slight tremble.

You remained silent. Fear racing through your veins as he took a step closer, setting down a plate of food that you figured to be dinner. Your stomach churned at the thought of having to eat the food he made, even though you had devoured the meals previously after starving yourself in retaliation to the man. You hated yourself for when the the thought of his cooking to be quite delicious, you felt nauseous; how could you ever think that of your kidnapper?

“Why am I here?” You asked, your eyes cast down to your palms in your lap, avoiding the unwavering stare of Jesse’s, “Why can’t you just let me go?”

A smirk played on the corner of his lips as a slight chuckle left his throat, “I had told you back when we were dating, nobody can have you but me.” He lurched forward, taking a fist full of the collar of your shirt, almost ripping the fabric in the process as he brought his face close to yours, the tip of his nose grazing yours. You gulped in terror; he’d never done this before and you could very clearly see the building annoyance in his eyes as his expression drew into a frown, “You’re mine. Got that?”

No words fell from your lips as you could only look in his eyes, too nervous to look away. He held you like that for only a moment, blinking rapidly before letting go, allowing you to plop back onto the bed, scrambling away from him; horror written in your features. He looked at you in shock, moving forward to hug you, much to your overwhelming confusion. He profusely apologized for causing you harm and promised to never hurt you.

Tears welled in your eyes, what did you do to deserve to be sitting where you are?

Did you accidentally cut someone off while driving? Is it because you walked out of a store with forgetting to pay for an item in your bag? Did you somehow kill someone? You tried to make some sense even though you never came up with anything.

Jesse pulled back, pursing his lips as he lifted his hand, to which you flinched at much to his dismay, and wiped your tears away with his thumb, “It’s okay. I gotcha, Sweetheart. I’m gonna protect you from everything in this cruel world.”

You needed to get out.

——————————

Masterlist

[youre-in-my-sights]

Seeing that Hanzo and Mccree sometimes butt heads about Jesse’s aggressiveness with their darling in your McHanzo posts... What would happen if Jesse REALLY fucked up with the darling someway in a fit of unwarranted rage? What would the fallout look like? Would things ever be the same again? Would Hanzo ever forgive him?

Really it depends on what exactly Mccree has done. Regardless, Mccree's in for a rude awakening from his boyfriend if he royally fucks up.

Any type of abuse that would leave a bruise on you Hanzo would accept under the guise of it being your punishment, even if it pains him to see you like that

Anything that leaves scars, or open wounds, or lasting psychological trauma, Hanzo will intervene immediately

If he's present for the extreme abuse, he'll quickly knock Mccree out and tend to your wounds, all the while apologizing and rethinking his relationship with Jesse

If Hanzo isn't present and finds out, he's even angrier at Mccree. Might even threaten him within an inch of his life when he gets back

Regardless, Hanzo would want to get you away from his abuse asap, but that would mean letting you go, and he can't have that

Hanzo will take you to a new dwelling, preferably a place far away from Mccree, and keep you as his own

Mccree calls and tries to apologize to Hanzo, saying he didn't mean to hurt you, but Hanzo's immovable.

Really hurts Hanzo and Mccree that they can't see each other probably makes mccree a bit more obsessed but at least Hanzo has you, and will treat you like the prince you are

[yandereaffections]

Jesse knows this well and best believe he takes advantage, not wasting time to restrain your hands besides you or above you head around the edge of your orgasm, not caring if its only been a few minutes since he started railing into you Jesse just wants to see that cute lil face of yours turn flustered as you squirm beneath him trying to protest all the while moaning and gasping out for him, feeling yourself melt into the sheets as heat spreads through your veins, Mccrees eyes never once moving away from your blissful expression

Cooing at you for how cute your whimpers sound while caressing down from your hands he once restrained to tracing up and down your sides, adoring how easily overwhelmed you can get from the smallest things he does. Whats better than watching you cum once? Watching you cum again, multiple times until you cant take it anymore, fucked into a sweaty whimpering mess

Unless your quick to get on your knees to get him off with your soft lips do expect to be pounded into the bed until your a overstimulated disarray of begs and pleads, cum soaked thighs with scratches all over your hips from Mccrees grip

Jesse may not even last as long as he thinks he would due to how alluring the sounds you make are, so sensitive under every sensual touch he makes, it unravels him to the point where his thrusts start to sputter, getting weaker and closer to cumming the more you moan out his name calling out for mercy. Baby he couldnt enjoy the fact you cum so quickly just from simple touches from him alone more than he already does 

[yandere-genji]

Can you do headcanons/ a fic (which ever is easier) for yandere lifeguard!Mccree?

((Basically a mini fic in headcanon format. Also you guys know I have a massive boner for blackwatch!mccree so I had to do it to em))

•McCree often goes undercover for Blackwatch missions, it was apart of the job, so becoming a lifeguard for a day was nothing unusual. •It was strange, though, when he couldn’t seem to focus on his role or the mission at hand when his eyes came across you. •There were so many people on the beach enjoying themselves, but for some reason you were the only one had caught his attention. •He came down from the lifeguard tower when he noticed you applying sunscreen and made his way over, asking if he could help you. •He takes his time, insisting that he’s making sure that he properly covers your body. •”You should trust me, darlin’. I didn’t just get this job based off the merit of my good looks alone.”•Once he’s finished, he looks for an excuse to stay. •He’ll fix your towel, saying it has to be in regulation, and sneak a hand into your beach bag looking for anything with your personal information on it. •Once he has what he’s looking for, he’ll give you a tip of his hat and leave you to yourself. But that definitely won’t be the last time you’ll be seeing him.

[short-yandere-stories]

“You better stop struggling in my lap like that, Angel. You’ll start something you don’t want me to finish~” with a deadlock mccree? in the company of the rest of the gang too- just for the added dash of humiliation

I edited the prompt sentence a bit so it fits him a little better. Hope you don’t mind!

Content Warnings: yandere behavior, the reader takes three gulps of alcohol, alcohol consumption, intimidation, pet names, flirting, suggestive content, sexual/NSFW implications, and vague descriptions of sexual acts.

This is a yandere work. Proceed at your own risk and please be mindful of your triggers.

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

Stop your teasing

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

You had always known that McCree was dangerous, but you hadn't quite understood exactly how dangerous he was until you were brought with him to a meeting with his gang down in a basement refashioned to a bar.

The Deadlock gang was something everyone had heard of, and when you'd understood that McCree was a part of it, no, not just a part of it -- leading it, you'd felt your heart sink. Just how would you be able to run away now?

Judging from the smirk on McCree's lips when he guided you into the room, this must have been exactly what he wanted, and the reason for bringing you here. He wanted you to know how utterly hopeless your situation was.

Your eyes wandered around the room. Ashe (you shuddered inwardly when you saw her) was pouring a glass of some dark alcoholic liquid for herself, sitting on the edge of the bar. P.T, Terran and Zeke were all sitting around one of the two tables, playing cards and cursing at each other.

In the middle of the table lay what you could only assume were stolen goods they were gambling for. Weapons, jewelry, and --  was that an organ!? Quickly, you looked away, only to catch B.O.B's gaze from where he was sitting at the other table next to someone you didn't recognize. He grinned at you, and you looked down.

"Bringing the 'babe' today McCree?" He said, looking you up and down. McCree grinned widely at him before sitting down on one of the empty chairs at the table, dragging you down onto his lap with a surprised yelp.

The other guy at the table chuckled. "She's sweet. No wonder you haven't brought her here yet." You could see on him that he was considering flirting with you, and you shifted uncomfortably in McCree's lap, trying to stand up.

"Babe sit still," he said, using the arm wrapped around your waist to pull you flusher against him "you don't wanna rile me up here now do you?" The implications of his words made you freeze, and Ashe, whom you hadn't noticed joined you, chuckle.

"I don't think any of the boys would mind if you bent her over the table. They haven't gotten, mind you even seen, any action for months." The triplets by the other table let out a clamor of complaints, and Zeke took the moment of distraction to steal cards from his opponents.

You felt yourself instinctively lean back towards McCree, wanting to escape Ashe's crimson gaze and lazy smile. You didn't say anything and decided to stare down at your lap and the muscular arm holding you in place. "Aw she's shy," Ashe teased before taking a swig of her liquor. "We won't bite, hun. Not unless you want us to."

McCree's grip around you hardened, and you could feel him tense up under you. Seems like he wasn't as unaffected by the jests of his teammates as he tried to seem like he was.

However, he just laughed heartily. "Don't scare her too much ya hear? Get me something to drink. Something strong." He shooed her off with his trademark grin and rested his chin on your shoulder, taking a deep breath of your scent. The hand that wasn’t holding you snug to his chest traveled down to fiddle with the hem of your dress, teasingly “slipping” down to your inner thigh every now and then.

When Ashe returned with a glass filled with something brown, you snatched it before McCree could and took three heavy gulps, shuddering and grimacing at the strong taste. He burst into laughter at once, chuckles making your entire body vibrate. Ashe looked amused and approving. “Well she ain't scared that’s for sure.” 

“If I need to endure you feeling me up all evening I might as well get more comfortable with it,” you said. It took a few moments for you to realize just what you said, and horrified, you slapped your hands over your mouth. McCree wore the cockiest grin you have ever seen and leaned close, hot breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Well if you want me to feel you up more you should have told me, darling,” he purred, hands resuming their travel. The drink stood half-empty and forgotten on the table.

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

[yanderewriter]

Hi, welcome to my blog ! This is going to be a writing blog, mainly yandere stories but not exclusively, and I’ll write both reader inserts and ships. Feel free to give me asks ! Here are the fandoms and characters/ships I’m writing for currently, to be updated later (canonically underage characters are always aged up, unless specified otherwise, but I'll make sure to tag any and all potentially triggering content appropriately) :

Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia :

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

Yamada Hizashi/Present Mic

Shigaraki Tomura

Dabi

Midoriya Izuku

Shinsou Hitoshi

Todoroki Shouto

Kaminari Denki

Bakugou Katsuki

Yaoyorozu Momo

Erasermic (Aizawa/Hizashi)

Eraserdust (Aizawa/Shigaraki)

Izuku/Shinsou

Denki/Shinsou

Izuku/Shouto

Aizawa/Shinsou (Honestly pretty much Aizawa/everyone)

Death Note :

L

Mello

Matt

Matt/Mello

Jennifer’s Body :

Jennifer Check

Victorious :

Jade West

Hazbin Hotel :

Alastor

Descendants :

Mal

Evie

Uma

Harry

Gil

Uma/Harry/Gil

Mal/Evie

Once Upon A Time :

Mad Hatter/Jefferson

Evil Queen/Regina Mills

Captain Hook/Killian Hook

The Umbrella Academy :

Klaus Hargreeves

Five Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

Klaus/Diego

Overwatch :

Soldier 76/Jack Morrison

Jesse McCree

Reaper/Gabriel Reyes

Moira O’Deorain

Sombra

Widowmaker/Amélie Lacroix

True Education/Get Schooled (manhwa) :

Hwa-Jin Na

[elianas-cozycorner]

𝓜𝓬𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓮, 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓹𝓮𝓻, + 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓴𝓻𝓪𝓽 𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭-𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼

Author’s Note: Once again, this is a very old request which I decided to fulfill in order to give my blog new material and to honor old promises. I’m quite sentimental as it were, so I hope if the people who requested these see them they enjoy the read. Also, no gif for this head-canon page. I didn’t feel like it would fit in well. 

Please not I do not condone yandere-like behaviors, nor the manipulation of others. This is purely for fictional purposes.

Request: “Alright, just do general yandere hc for McCree, Jamison, and Gabriel. Write whatever is comfortable for you to begin with.” - Anon

Rating: 17+ (Teen+ for Ao3); 3rd person, gender neutral

Warning: Mentions of Violence, possessive & controlling behavior, mention of being held against one’s will, etc. Please proceed with caution or avoid reading if you are sensitive to these things.

Word Count: 718

ＭｃＣｒｅｅ

Jesse would be the doting and silently dangerous type of yandere. One moment, he’s very caring and catering to his muse’s needs and the next he’s breaking something in anger.

He tries not to upset his “little dove”, as he calls them, but sometimes they push the wrong buttons or get on his nerves.

Jesse is the type of person who, if he were to take someone against their will, would easily become the object of Stockholm syndrome. 

He cannot keep his hand off, always needing that physical contact and reassurance. 

He’s good at getting what he wants, from using a caring, genuine persona to poking at old wounds and antagonizing his muse.

Jesse constantly finds excuses to be near them, if he doesn’t live with them or keep them at home.

He is not the stalker type, being very blunt and obvious about his wishes and presence. He tries to be friendly and approachable as much as possible, genuinely believing his actions to be normal and just.

Never leaves his muse completely alone. Jess would be there when most and least expected, though not always in person. He’s quite good at surveillance techniques.

He doesn’t usually pose much of a threat to anyone, but he will not hesitate to make his anger or distaste known. 

It is not pretty when he starts to break things or cut off his muse’s contacts. He wouldn’t kill anyone, simply break some phones, pay people to delete emails, etc.

Very good at making his muse feel both isolated and alone when he needs to. 

Jesse is very emotionally manipulative.

Ｒｅａｐｅｒ

Unlike Jesse, Gabriel is dangerous in every way.

He would not let his muse roam around, preferring to be the type of yandere who takes control of every and any situation. He would quickly find an excuse for his muse to move in with him and then, soon after, a way to keep them there.

Gabriel is both a physical and emotional threat, easily shifting blame onto his muse even when they are not the guilty party. He doesn’t hesitate to make them feel small and useless, liking their dependence on him.

Physically, he almost never follows through with his threats, but he often makes his muse think that another step out of line will come at the cost of pain.

Prefers the use of softer, less intense methods of punishment on his muse, however. He may have a controlling, manipulative nature but he still believes he cares for his muse.

While he may stalk his muse at first, even leaving notes or gifts of affection, he takes the first opportunity he can to obtain the person of his obsession.

He stalks family members and friends, ensuring everything is in order all hours of the day.

He is discrete in his movements and actions, making sure his muse has daily contact with the outside world and those close to them. He can’t afford someone ruining their connection and relationship, no matter how much he doesn’t like the idea of sharing.

Much more intense about surveillance than Jesse.

While he’s not willing to show love and pure adoration easily, he expects it from his muse.

Ｊｕｎｋｒａｔ

Jamison is much more distanced than either McCree or Reaper, preferring to observe and love from afar.

He can’t have his muse hurting themself around his projects and explosives, so having them close to him wasn’t an option.

He would be very good at keeping things controlled from afar. Well placed letters of adoration, small gifts, and anonymous food deliveries always kept his muse guessing who he was and drew their attention from the “stalker” possibility.

Equally strategic threats and promises of hurt would ward off an potential threats to his relationship with his muse, including family and friends.

Despite being called a lunatic and an empty-headed fool, Jamison is smarter than most people. He would cover his tracks and plan everything out to the t to avoid mishaps.

Jamison would definitely be the kind of person to stalk out in the open, dressing and acting the part of a normal citizen so he could get closer to and interact with his muse in public. 

In the shadows, he definitely is the type to take photos and create albums of “moments” he’s shared “with” them.

[weebsinstash]

Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t mind being railed by both Struker and McCree at the same time

see, this is the kind of blog feedback I'm looking for