Reiikon and Ghost posting at the same time again.. Does this mean more mc76??!!
this...is a completely valid question — LMAO
,,, so far i've been the least active of the two, i'm sure everyone can tell. however, i'm finally off work for a few days, i sure haven't forgotten 'bout these two, & me 'n ghost are still Best Friends Forever™ so...
— MAYBE SO ANON, MAYBE SO ;;
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Welcome! ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡
Hello hello hello! I’m Coyote Ghost!
As a short intro, I’m a fanfic writer for the Overwatch fandom, specifically McReyes/McReaper! However, I’ll usually write anything McCree-centric or Reaper-centric, such as:
- Mc76
- Reaper76
- McAshe
- McReaper76
If you have any ideas, comments, or questions, feel free to share them via the asks!
I came here from ao3 so I could essentially use this as not only a place for side pieces, but also as a way to keep my friends updated! You can find my ao3 profile using my name (CoyoteGhost)! Or, if you’re lazy like me, you can use this link: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoyoteGhost
As always, thank you for your love and support! I hope to continue writing for you in the future!
╰(*´︶`*)╯♡
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Chapters: 2/3
Fandom: Overwatch (Video Game)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Characters: Jesse McCree, Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Additional Tags: Undercover Missions, Missions Gone Wrong, Kitsune, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Protectiveness, Serious Injuries, Blessings, War, Hurt/Comfort, Secret Identity, Magic, Angst, Guilt, Promises, Shapeshifting
Series: Part 9 of Mc76
Summary:
What McCree didn’t notice was the bluish glow that flitted across the front window an hour later or the bright, too-knowing eyes that studied him from the hole in the wall before the fox slipped through once more, curling up on the ground just inside. It examined the human for a long moment, head tilted to the side as it gaze slipped to the weapon at its side, not fearful, but appraising before it sighed and shook itself, letting its head come to rest against its paws as it too settled in to sleep.
It would be gone before the human woke.
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Mc76 Smut
(this is short and unedited and I wrote it sometime this past spring but I love my boys)
Jack’s voice was wrecked. He was – what? 35? But his voice sounded like rough granite stones grinding together. Years of shouting orders and yelling over the roar of battle, along with whatever he had inhaled on the battlefield and what the US Government had shot into his veins had destroyed Jack’s vocal cords. He was incapable of sounding soft, or reassuring. Everything he spoke had the same gravelly timbre and loud rumble. It was a wonder children weren’t afraid of him.
As horrible as his voice sounded, as impossibly rough and intimidating Jack felt he was, there were times when he truly understood the power of his voice. Not giving orders on the field – Jesse rarely ever listened to those anyways. No. It was moments like this.
Jack’s posture was wide and relaxed in the armchair. He was just in a t-shirt and jeans, knees spread as he leaned back against the soft back of the plush seat.
“Such a good boy,” he crooned, and even though there was nothing quiet or soft or sweet in his voice, it was worth it to watch Jesse’s head fall back and his lips part in a soft moan.
“Can you go a little harder for me, baby?” Jack asked.
Jesse was beautiful. Bare and lean, kneeling on Jack’s plush, king-sized mattress with a pillow between his thighs. His left hand was wrapped around his cock, wrist still and fingers unmoving. Jack watched the steady roll of his hips, the ripple of his abs as he fucked into his own hand. His muscles were tense cords beneath his beautiful dark skin. He shuddered and spasmed in desperation and frustration. Brows furrowed and mouth parted in a spit slick pout, Jesse panted and whined for Jack’s enjoyment.
The rules had been clear. Jesse was to get off without moving his hand, only allowed to fuck into his palm under Jack’s careful watch and direction. It was a slow and frustrating process. Jesse wasn’t as coordinated with his left hand, and Jack was very strict – always telling him when to slow down or speed up or stop altogether.
Jesse had found the edge a few times, but Jack had never let him take what he needed. Each time his breathing got too ragged and his rhythm began to stutter, Jack would force him to back off and start all over again.
At Jack’s request to go harder, Jesse let out a pathetic, high whine and began jerking his hips. He hoped he would be allowed to come this time. Surely, Jack was aching in his jeans. He had to be painfully hard after watching Jesse moan and whine and beg for nearly an hour at this point.
His cock twitched in his hands, drawing him in on himself with a shudder. Jack’s smile widened and he adjusted himself in his pants.
“Do you want to come, Jesse?” Jack asked, tone as teasing as he could make it.
“Please, Sir,” Jesse pleaded. He was so flushed, shaking as if he would fall apart like some kind of defective omnic. Jack was torn between backing Jesse off once more, stealing yet another orgasm for the sole joy of watching him crumble into nothing. But he also wanted to watch Jesse come. He wanted to see Jesse spill over his hands and watch his eyes roll back as he finally came undone after so much teasing. “Please, can I come?”
Jesse’s voice was nothing like Jack’s. He was a smooth, sweet drawl. Everything Jesse said sounded like a song. Jack could listen to Jesse for hours on end, just taking in the low cadence of his accent and the joy that laced his words.
Jack wanted to hear Jesse come.
“Come for me, baby,” Jack commanded. For once, Jesse was happy to obey orders.
He sounded just as perfect as Jack imagined. Choked off moans and low growls and high-pitched up breaths. His face was beautiful, ecstasy and agony. Tears in his eyes and spit on his lips, cheeks flushed red. The muscles in his jaw and neck strained. Somehow, he managed to speed up, hips moving almost impossibly fast before coming to a total stop. Jesse jerked and twitched in his palm, spilling over his fingers and down to the pillowcase below. Jack didn’t mind the mess.
“Clean yourself up for me,” Jack ordered. Jesse’s hand shook as he raised it to his lips. His pink tongue darted out, scooping up some of his come before disappearing behind his lips. Jack couldn’t help but sigh softly as Jesse sucked his own fingers clean.
Once Jesse was done, he looked up at Jack curiously. His eyes were still wet with tears as he peered up from beneath his lashes. He was awaiting orders. Jack felt a rush of desire and admiration. So obedient, just for him.
“Do you need anything?” Jack asked. Jesse was likely exhausted, dehydrated, sore.
He shook his head, brown hair tossing with the force of the gesture.
“I want you,” Jesse said softly.
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Overwatch (Video Game)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Characters: Jesse McCree, Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Frottage, Oral Sex, Alcohol, Smoking, PTSD mentions, discussion of suicidal thoughts, AU where "Twister" the movie exists but homophobia does not, Natural Disasters
Summary:
Jack Morrison is a middle-aged hobbyist storm chaser wondering if he's gotten too old to be doing this. Then he meets a man who always knows the right place to be.
(Or: Jack Morrison has never experienced the suck zone like this before.)
(Length: approximately 19k)
Hi! I forgot to post the thing that I wrote!
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