Unbelievable. Unbelievable, that you actually let this infamous man drag you back to Overwatch HQ. Overwatch. 

You knew you’d seen that cowboy’s face somewhere before. A charming man with an addictive smile, and even more addicting hands. Jesse sat down next to you at the bar you frequent; wearing a jean blue shirt, and dark wash, blue jeans; signature cowboy hat on his head. Despite all of this he had insisted that he was “undercover” for a normal night at the local bar. 

You had poked fun. “I’d hardly call this,” you said gesturing to all of him, “being undercover.”

He leaned forward, smirking, and biting his lip. Such a big presence and a big body. Broad shoulders and the brim of his cowboy hat blocking out the entirety of the rest of the bar. “Well, you didn’t recognize me now did ya?” 

“That’s not a feat; I hardly pay attention to the news.”

When his hand slid up your leg, you didn’t mind it at all. He cocked his head to the side and admired the slopes your neck. Checked you out from head to toe without any shame what-so-ever. You’re not usually such a blushy, giggly mess but there’s something about that cowboy that just brought it all out of you.  

Imagine you’re on what’s supposed to be a normal camping trip; taking a walk through the woods suddenly a fog starts to settle in. You’re wondering to yourself, “should I turn back?” That’s probably wise, but nobodies ever wise when they’re in the middle of a horror movie. 

So you keep on walking, thinking to yourself that there’s something beautiful about the fog, it’s no cause for turning back. Besides the big, beautiful, full moon illuminates your path plenty.

Suddenly there’s a rumble that sounds like a big beast to your left. Slowly you turn to face the noise that’s settling a large put in your stomach. Now you’re faced with what is, in fact, a big beast; one like you’ve never seen before. 

You’re trying to remember all of the advice that you’ve heard over your years. Should you run? Should you make yourself as small as possible? As big as possible? Make noise? Stand still? 

But this isn’t your regular, run of the mill, wild beast. This is a man in wolf form and he’s smart, calculating, and in the middle of a rut. Was prowling through the woods looking for a foolish hiker to mate. You were thinking about naughty things, daydreaming on your peaceful walk, and he sniffed you out from the heat between your legs. 

It wouldn’t take you long to realize this. With the way the big, bad, wolf grins and prowls his way towards you. A long metal arm, decorated with a skull, a tattered red serape, looking like a handkerchief around the werewolf’s big, fur bristled neck. It doesn’t take much observation to know there’s no tricking this beast into leaving you be.  

Then when you can’t fight the flight response coursing through your veins, the werewolf pounces, knocks and pins you to the ground. Rips the clothes from your body, and when you realize that he’s not trying to kill you, you calm down a little. Still nervous, cause you’re not sure how you’re going to take the massive length that’s heavy, and hot, resting on the middle of your back. 

You’re gonna take it. Grit your teeth and bear it. Grasp at the leaves and dirt. Arch your back so the werewolf can get as deep as possible. Take every harsh thrust. Shiver, every time the beast growls his pleasure into your ear. Your quivering seeping more slick out of your strained sex. Struggling to breathe from feeling so full and cumming so hard. 

DaddyCree and Daughter!Reader like to make a whole day out of decorating their apartments living room. They go all out; the whole nine yards. Stockings, a Christmas tree, garland. As many God-awful cowboy-related Christmas nick nacks, and ornaments as possible. Listening to Christmas music and having a blast getting a little drunk, maybe a lot drunk. So in the end, when their living room is as tacky as possible, they can give a tag-team tour of what they set up to whoever will let them drag ‘em in. This “tour” lasts like approximately four to five seconds. Consists of McCree imitating Santa Clause and daughter!reader exclaiming “It’s Christmas!” By the way, it’s totally November first when they do this. 

He thinks quickly, leaning down so you could smell asphalt, rubber, oil, and a faint drift of iron. Roadhog’s large hand quickly envelopes yours, his black fingernails unable to mask the smudge of gunpowder along the cuticle. Leaning down, he quickly and quietly whispered to you “Don’t squeal.” Knowing that fighting back would be no good, you did your best to catch anyone’s eyes, but your new captor’s glassy masked stare was quick to deter and knights in the crowd. (2/?) ()=^.^=()

Dragging you along at his pace, you shortly reached the motorbike with a lanky, shirtless man leaning against it. You could obviously see the shining amber eyes sliding up and down your figure, taking time to ogle without shame. “That the new play thing? Nice tits. Hips like that means they’d be a real jewel in the outback. You sure she wouldn’t be less trouble if we just sold her off?” Fear passed through you, and you pressed closer to the mountain of a man. (3/) ()=^.^=()

“No.” Was his curt answer. The firey man squinted at you for a moment further before giving a shrug. “Well, let’s load up then. Won’t be long before the suits are after us again.” He says with a excited giggle. —- Fast forward to a trip overseas, and days of being pounded and used mercilessly by Roadhog. Junkrat found occasional joy in sucking on your nipples before watching Hog breed you again, at least until you started producing milk. The further you carried life, the more both men went mad.