#overwatch reader inserts

[useeer]

me after one inconvenience

[clairlycreature]

where my hanzo lovers at

[teacakeezz]

Uhm eheh sooo anyways….

[kiwi-on-ice]

Welcome to Tumblr!!

Would it be possible to request some Reinhardt x fem (nb) Reader where reader accidentally gives a drunken confession that they've had 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 thoughts about him??

Reinhardt x fem!reader

Summary: Always being drawn to the older and chivalrous crusader, a celebratory party after a successful overwatch mission causes secrets to be spilled, and pleasures to be experienced.

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+ smut, reader dresses fem and has a pussy but no she/her pronouns used, reader is a combat medic for overwatch, age gap, size kink, fingering, creampie (no threat of pregnancy).

Notes: Hope you enjoy sweetheart! Kinda went all in on the size kink and age gap so sorry about that lmao.

Something about your commanding officer, Reinhardt Wilhelm, had always captured the attention of your mind and body.

Whether it was his hulking frame that could make anyone feel small, his thundering voice that could be heard across the battlefield, or the sweet and chivalrous personality that lay beneath the rugged exterior; something about him was a pull for you, a magnet that you couldn't help but be drawn to. He may be older than you, more reckless, more of a fighter...but it didn't matter.

You remember as clear as day the first time you had been assigned to be trained under him, a new recruit wanting to make a difference in the world. Since Dr Zielger was responsible for taking you under her wing for the medic side of your job, lieutenant Reinhardt was to ensure you could handle yourself in a fight. And in walks the most intimidating man you've ever seen, 7'4" of muscle, wielding a hammer practically the size of you and then some. But when a bellowing chuckle erupted from his mouth, the sense of intrigue uncurled it's way from your stomach. From then on, intrigued was an understatement. Your eyes followed him everywhere. The movements of his arms on the field, or in the practice range when he'd wear a tank top that extenuated every part of his body as he trained. But then he started to help you, carefully moving your arms to show you good positioning and blocking, the feel of his fingers and how they practically consumed your hips or arm with their sheer size.

Reinhardt was special, and oh so gentlemanly. Even when he'd walked in on you changing, shielding his eyes and saying 'I didn't see anything!" as he backed out. Most men you know would have tried to catch a glimpse, but not him. He was special. And god did you crave him so badly. Craved the experience of showing him just how depraved your thoughts for him were. But you knew deep down it was a bad idea.

Not only was he your lieutenant, but he was much older than you. You knew he would never pursue you, too honorable. He deserved a woman of his own age, and you'd seen the way Captain Amari would glance at him when she thought nobody was watching. These fantasies should stay just that. Fantasies. Nothing more.

So after a particularly successful mission carried out, you wanted nothing more than to drown the sorrows of your unrequited lust in the complimentary champagne being offered at the closing party. Still, you'd dressed for the occasion, your dress flattering your figure nicely as you practically clung to the walls, glass tight in your grip. The garment isn't overly revealing, but certainly gave people a taste of how ravishing your body truly is. You can't help but glance around, noticing the way fellow agents laugh and discuss plans. When your eyes find Reinhardt, discussing something with Captain Amari in a hushed whisper, you down the champagne in one and search for another.

After more than a few glasses, the familiar blanket of haze runs over your brain as you walk rather disorderly to the bar stool. Settling yourself, you tap your fingers against the dark wood as you let your mind drift.

"Ah, enjoying the free booze i see."

That familiar voice always sent a shiver up your spine, but with the effects of the alcohol you feel yourself practically jolt into an upright position as the object of your daydreams settles on to the stool next to you.

"I myself am enjoying the revelry, quite a nice break from crushing omnics skulls open." he exclaims with a grin, as you barely fight the blush rising to your cheeks.

"Yeah, you look great tonight."

Oh my god did you just say that? Without too much thought of your blurted out compliment, he laughs heartily and shakes his head.

"Ah this old thing? Only comes out for times like this." he says, brushing some fibres from his suit lapel. The way the fabric clings to his body has your thighs pressing together urgently. "But I assure you liebchen that you look radiant as ever."

His sweetness just serves to fluster you more, as you bathe in his tone and words, despite how friendly they seem to be. You smile, the alcohol messing with your inhibitions as you gently poke his arm.

"Seriously, how do your muscles fit in here?" You feel the stretched fabric of his suit jacket.

"Oh, well i-i did get this tailored." he admits, a little sheepish as his eyes are firmly on where you placed your hand. When you squeeze, he has to force himself not to react.

"It's so impressive, you're so big Reinhardt..." you mumble, and god the innuendo makes him feel like such a dirty old man for the way his breath catches.

"You flatter me." he says, a little quickly. "My muscles protect those closest to me, as well as the world. I suppose that means they are..."

"Big." you finish his sentence for him, squeezing your bicep again. The rational part of your brain is screaming at you to stop, to realise what you're doing. But you can't seem to care. You're touching him, feeling him.

"Dear I..." he trails off, not quite being used to being in this position. With how hard it's been since the omnic crisis started, he's rarely had time to enjoy the company of someone, much less someone of your age.

"I meant it..." you blurt out again, your mouth seemingly having a mind of its own... "That you look great tonight. You look great all the time though..."

"How much have you had to drink? Perhaps it might be time to go and get some rest."

"No...want to be here with you. Always want to be here with you."

Looking away, Reinhardt truly is lost for words; an occurrence that doesn't happen often. The feeling of your touch, your words, they create a symphony of lust and desire to swirl in his chest, the attention of such a pretty young thing as intoxicating as the whiskey in his glass. But he knows he can't...he shouldn't...

"You're just so...hot. Especially after you train, I um..."

Seemingly your brain kicks back into its senses as you stop yourself. Oh my god, you just called him hot. Before you can run and hide from your embarrassment, he turns to you.

"You, what?"

You shake your head quickly, trying to save yourself whatever shame you still had left. But he presses.

"No, I'd like you to finish that sentence. After I train, what do you do?" he asks, knowing he's playing with fire here. You know there's no real way of getting out of this, so you drink the last bit of liquid from your glass to pluck up the courage.

"I go back to my room and i fantasise about you."

This knocks the air out of Reinhardt's lungs. He holds onto the whiskey glass so tight, cracks form.

"Scheiße" he mutters under his breath, before looking you dead in the eyes. "You want me? Is that what you're saying?"

You can't help but nod, embarrassment and rules be dammed. His breathing becoming laboured only helps further embolden you, as you run a hand down his front slowly. "I want you...more than anything."

He finds himself shivering under your touch, before he catches your wrist. "We can't."

You let out a petulant whine at his dissmissal, leaning further into him. "Why not?"

"Look at you maus, you're practically half my age. It isn't right...it isn't the way it should be. You need a nice boy your age to look after you."

"You'd look after me." you interject. "I know you would...you're such a gentleman."

"Gentlemen don't want to fuck the pretty recruit they train." he says rather gruffly, shaking his head. "Besides, you're drunk. I'll take you to your room."

He left no room for argument as he pulls you along, taking you up to your room. Taking this as a hint, you rub at his arm again before you get to the door.

"Goodnight...please think this over. It isn't a good idea." he says, the words sounding strained in his throat as he opens the door for you.

The next morning, the sunlight streams through your blinds like tiny daggers as your head feels like it's splitting. You really shouldn't have drank so much, blinking softly as you sit up in your bed.

Oh no. The memories of last night hit you like a train, the way you came on to him...the way you felt him up. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god, you're screwed. Scrambling to get in the shower and get presentable, you pace around the room to think about what you should do. Ignore it? Pretend you didn't do anything?

You can already feel the awkwardness that that would bring, so with reluctance you find yourself walking towards your lieutenant's door and knocking on it softly. Opening the door, you swear you almost feel yourself gasp as he stands there in a t-shirt that clings to his body like you're desperate to.

"Oh, good morning!" he says cheerily, which makes the pit in your stomach get deeper. The word vomit seemingly spits out before you can hope to restrain it.

"Reinhardt I am so sorry for my inappropriate behaviour last night, I don't know what came over me I had too much to drink i-"

A hand on your shoulder interrupts your train of thought. "Dear, why don't you come inside a moment."

That statement clearly takes you off guard, as he guides you inside and closes the door behind you. Shyly, you take a seat on the small sofa and glance at the minimal decor idly as he walks over. The seating clearly wasn't meant for someone his size, as your thigh is pressed against his own as he takes a seat next to you.

"You don't need to apologise...about the way you feel." he starts, and now your stomach is fluttering for a different reason. "And I'm not trying to be cruel, it's just....not right. You deserve-"

"Don't" you interject, "Don't say I deserve someone better, or my age..."

He sighs, low and heavy as his hand balls into a fist in his lap. "Liebling, I am trying to be a gentleman here."

You swallow, realising his need for you. It's addictive, knowing that his breath is heavy and his muscles are tight because he feels like he needs you. Needs you just like you need him. So you gently place your hand on his arm, squeezing.

"I know, and I want you to be a gentleman. I want you to take care of me Reinhardt." you whisper, words sweet like honey to his ears as he feels the heat in his crotch.

His sharp breath fuels you, as your hand traces over to his broad chest, the warmth radiating in waves. With a smile, you angle yourself fully towards him, feeling up and down his chest as you gaze up at him. Catching your wrist just like last night, your gasp sends tingles down his back as he pushes towards you.

"oh gott, I thought you wouldn't..." he starts, before seemingly his self control snaps and he pulls you into a kiss. It's deep and passionate and oh so perfect, everything you wanted from him as his hands practically dwarf your waist. Yours go up to his shoulders, grasping on for dear life as he lifts you and places you on his lap. Feeling the slight scratch of his beard against your face as his tongue gently traces your lip has your mind reeling, and your hips buck on instinct. This is met by a slight groan from the older man as he grips your waist tighter to keep you still.

"Not so fast, let me enjoy you." he mutters as he gently starts to kiss down your jaw to your neck. He worships your skin with kisses like you're holy, like bathing in your essence would grant him salvation. His teeth gently scrape your pulse point as his hands start to move smoothly up and down your waist and hips, memorising your every curve.

Fingers slip under your shirt, tracing your torso before tugging your shirt up and over your head. He lets out a groan at the sight, his eyes looking over your exposed body as his scarred hands run over everywhere he can. Not putting on a bra or undershirt this morning, your chest was now exposed to his gaze. He gently pinches at your nipples, chuckling at you gasp before fondling as a gentle apology.

"Look at you...don't know why you're interested in an old man like me." he laughs in a self deprecating way as he moves you so you're straddling his thigh. Getting the hint, you begin to grind over the muscle, your thin shorts doing nothing to dampen the delicious friction.

"You're so handsome." you seek to reassure him, causing his cheeks to warm as he chuckles again.

"You flatter me." he mumbles, kissing over your shoulders and collarbones as you grind over him, feeling your pussy dampen your flimsy shorts.

He tenses and relaxes his thigh, making you gasp and your hips stutter in pleasure. Huffing out a laugh at how eager you seem to be, he runs his hands back to your hips and controls your pace. You feel so small in his grip, chest to chest against the older crusader as you use his leg to get off.

"So lovely and pretty," he praises you, before snapping the waistband of your shorts, "Shall we take these off?"

"Only if you take this off too." you say, pulling at his shirt. As he pulls it over his head, you can't suppress the noise that escapes your throat as you greedily run your hands over his chest without any pesky material in the way. His muscles look strong and capable, cutting a stunningly strong shape. His scars, of which there are many, perfectly frame him as a warrior, a protector. It all causes you to grind harder against his thigh, your fingers tracing a particularly bug scar on his stomach.

He lifts you up with ease, gesturing for you to shimmy out of your shorts which you do...which is when he realises you didn't put any underwear on underneath. He groans, deep and guttural as you're now fully exposed to him.

"Oh look at you...how has no man already snapped you up liebchen?" he asks rhetorically, as he gently places you fully on his lap, his fingers dancing on your inner thigh. You whimper and go to take his shorts off too, but he tuts and stops you. "I am...a big man. I don't want to hurt you."

At your pout he chuckles and continues, "Please, let me open you up for me."

His finger brushes, against your core and you forget what you were even pouting about as the pleasure settles deep inside you. He teases your clit with his finger, rubbing firm circles to get you even more drenched than you already are. Your hips move a little before he grips one side with his free hand, keeping you nice and still for him as he touches you.

"So beautiful, I'm going to ease it in now, okay?" he asks, and with your nod he sinks his finger inside you. God, if this is the size of his finger, you don't know how you're going to take the real thing as he fills you up with just one digit. He pumps it slowly, getting you used to the stretch as noises fly out your mouth.

"Gripping my finger so tight, such a small maus i've got." he teases with a smile, rubbing your hip soothingly as he works you open. He gently eases another finger inside, stopping momentarily at your slightly pained noise. He coos at you, telling you how good you're doing for him as he slowly but surely gets two big fingers inside of you. He keeps a slow rhythm, curling them to brush against that spot inside you. It's clear that he's an experienced man, given his age and looks that hardly comes as a surprise to you, as he prioritises your comfort and pleasure as he fingers you gently.

After a while though, you get a little restless, trying to fuck yourself on his digits which causes his eyebrows to raise and a stuttering breath to release from him.

"Oh that's it, ride them. Show me what you want." he encourages, as you keep your hands firmly exploring his chest as your hips rock against his fingers, slightly lifting your hips and lowering them to get the most pressure on your g spot. With your moans, he start to moan too, so hard in his shorts it hurts. He can't remember the last time he's been this turned on, this desperate for someones touch as you writhe and squirm on his lap.

"Please, I'm ready." You tell him, eyes pleading with him before he nods, removing his fingers. He quickly places you at his side as he tugs his shorts and briefs down, and you feel your breath escape in a choked manner. He's huge...biggest you'e ever seen, let alone taken inside you. He smiles reassuringly as he places you back on his lap, his cock pressing against your stomach.

"Don't worry mein herz, we will take it as slow as you need."

You nod at his words, breathing deeply as you lift yourself up and position him underneath you. The head brushes against your aching clit and you whimper, rubbing it around your pussy a few times as Reinhardt gasps quietly. With it wet enough with your juices, you slowly sink down on him, getting about a third of the way down before moaning out. The stretch burned, but in a delicious way that had your head spinning and your hands grabbing his broad shoulders tightly. A deep groan escapes the older man as he keeps a firm hold on your hips, not moving you yet.

"So tight...So feucht." he grunts, it's taking all the willpower in the world not to just thrust up and bury himself deep inside your intoxicating cunt.

At his reactions, you sink down slowly, nearly taking all of him before moving up and slowly moving back down again. This slow rhythm has you both moaning, broken and desperate as the months of unspoken sexual tension comes to fruition. He guides your movements slowly, being able to support your weight as you move on him.

Nails gripping into the skin of his shoulder, your cunt feels impossibly full as you keep moving on him. You aren't sure how any other man is going to satisfy you now you've had a taste of the crusader, his cock reaching places you didn't even think possible. Your movements get a little faster as you ride him, still fairly slow but the more even pace has him groaning.

"You're doing so well, so good...so jung und süß" he breathes out, his voice deeper as his eyes close for a moment. However he realises he's no longer able to see your gorgeous body taking him so well, so he opens them to the sight of your chest rippling with every bounce. One hand reaches up to massage your nipple, callous fingers creating a beautiful friction as your back subconsciously arches into his touch.

You cry out at the sensations, your thighs shaking as you ride him faster now, addicted to the feeling of his cock filling you up completely and utterly. Nearly reaching the base now, Reinhardt can't resist bucking up, completely filling your pussy and causing another choked cry to escape you as the older man is completely inside you. He takes this as a positive, and holds you in place as he begins to thrust up in a steady pace. Knocking against your g spot with every thrust, it's like your breath is knocked out of you with every movement; all you can hope to do is hold on for dear life as you let him do as he pleases.

But you'd asked for this, you'd asked him to take care of him, your words rattling around in his mind as he grunts and fucks you with a passion he hasn't felt in years. He will, he'll take care of you, he'll give you what you need.

"Oh...oh it's so good." he moans, never one to be quiet in any situation, letting you know how good your pussy feels enveloped around him.

You nod eagerly, crescent marks being left on his shoulder as your nails really dig in. Not being able to move your body on him, you just moan and cry out as he pushes his cock up and up inside you. However he seemingly tires of this position, moving you underneath him gently so you're on your back with your pretty eyes on him. He holds your thighs apart before thrusting once more, moving a pillow beneath your hips to ensure he's hitting your g spot.

"Du bist schön, my pretty thing." he gasps out, his thumb reaching down to rub at your clit. Immediately your walls tighten around him, making him moan and double his efforts.

You're pretty sure you're in heaven, his thrusts deep and powerful but passionate, making you feel all of him. The added pressure on your clit causes the pleasure to build and build rapidly, scrambling to hold his arms.

"Reinhardt i'm close." you warn him, before he grunts.

"Oh please come for me, make a mess of me." he practically begs, his voice strained. "ich brauche dich"

It only takes another few deep thrusts before you're cumming on his cock, your back arched and your moans whiny and breathy. The older man's rhythm falters at your stunning display, cock throbbing as he feels dangerously close to bursting right at that moment. But ever the gentleman, he asks where you want him to finish.

"Inside...I-I take the birth control shot that Doctor Ziegler offers...I want to feel you inside of me please." you beg him hazily, barely conscious as you still feel so full yet so sensitive.

This causes Reinhardt to moan loudly, thrusting a little harder as he reaches his peak, reverting back to his mother tongue as he grunts out. "Ich komme...Ich komme gleich...oh gott..."

With a final push, he buries himself deep inside your cunt and cums, filling you up so completely you feel your eyes roll back. Both of your heavy breaths fill the air, coming down from the intensity of the experience before he pulls out slowly. His release seeps out of you, and he groans at the sight of it, of the idea of you being his in that way. Gently he wipes away some, before he moves off you with a slight grunt, his joints a little sore.

"Stay there, i'll clean you up." he promises, and he keeps it as he grabs his towel and cleans you up, before heaving you into his arms and taking you to his bed. You feel completely enveloped by his strong arms as you cuddle against him, fingers gently tracing warm skin. You know this moment of bliss won't last forever, that you'll have to face the difficult conversations of what this means for you both moving forward, but you try not to think about it too much. Instead you're content with closing your eyes and letting your breathing sync as you relax together.

[nastymensimp]

Staring straight at the man you sighed disappointedly and shook your head," I appreciate the thought but you literally cannot do that."

He gasped as if offended, like you doubted the level of skills he possesses. " I think I very much can. What's stopping me?"

" Babe we've been over this, You cannot fight my period"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Arataki Itto, Junkrat, Okuyasu, Narancia, Literally all of Dethklok, America, Prussia, Sun, FT Freddy

[sshadowritestoriess]

hello! could you write something with zen echo and ramattra (sorry if that's too many characters) with a human reader who kisses them even tho they don't really have a mouth, I'd like to know their reactions

Kissing robots is so good <3

Kissing Zenyatta

Kisses aren’t a display that surprises him, really!

It might have been pretty anticlimactic the first instance that you had press your lips to his faceplate, a gesture of which he gently leaned into and remained patiently still, until you pulled away

But he would still sometimes entertain you with a prized “oh!” as if he hadn’t expected it

He only apologized the first time for not being able to return the favor the same way, but he was delighted by receiving such a human affection! It pleases him immensely that you would demonstrate this kind of love as if he were human

The best he could do to reciprocate was to press his forehead against yours, lean carefully into your touch, or nudge his jaw against your cheek

He’d be ridiculously gentle doing these things, highly aware that he was of metal and that humans bruise quite easily.

When you would kiss him where he would have a mouth, he liked to respond with a verbal “mwah!” or other kiss sound

You both would also have a habit of blowing kisses to one another as well. He loves pretending to catch yours, and would feign placing it on his cheek before signing “I love you” with his hand

But he also liked to take your hands in his and press your knuckles to the nine lights of his forehead, feeling the warmth of his glow against your hands in his own means of returning the gesture

Sometimes he even asks for kisses, very politely. It’s hard to refuse (but why would you?)

Kissing Echo

Considering her face is just a hologram, you both occasionally forget that and share an amused moment when trying to kiss each other

Sometimes it’s definitely on purpose though! Feigning a kiss upon one another’s mouth with sweet smiles, and an especially elated giggle from Echo

Your one-sided kisses always make her gasp, an expressive look of joyous surprise on her face that leaves her mouth agape

She finds it so interesting, curious, and will lift to you her hands and turn her head from side to side asking “Can you do that here? And what about from here?”

So it’s not really a one-and-done— if you kiss her, you’re gonna end up doing quite a couple. She loves it very much

She doesn’t seem bothered that she can’t truly kiss you back, and if asked she’ll tell you “I think there’s something just as special about pretending!”

And it’s true. The make-believe gestures of affection are something very unique to her that may as well be real in its own way

Just because she couldn’t kiss you doesn’t mean she wasn’t. It may not be the same, but it felt no different than if she could. And it was fun, and worth her reactions

She could never bore of your kisses, nor tire of returning them.

Kissing Ramattra

Ramattra, on the other hand, would somehow end up shocked by your kisses every single time without fail. Subtly flinching as if you’d accidentally surprised him

He’d make a disgruntled noise after your display, but he’d never ask you to stop. He would, however, make sure now and again that you didn’t think he was going to be able to suddenly kiss you back one day

Sometimes he’d mutter something about “human gestures”, but it was hard to discern if it was bringing him offense or not. But again, he never told you he didn’t like it— and he was pretty open about telling you the things that brought him unease

It was more like he was just tolerating it for a while, but he’d eventually begin appreciating it

While he can’t kiss you, he does have a similar gesture that brings him a lot more satisfaction when you attempt to do the same

His specific model can summon a very brief vibration from behind the “mouth” of his faceplate, an old discreet means of communicating that uses the gentle buzz as something similar to Morse code. The pulses produce no sound, but emits a small encoded wave between omnics— like sending a text directly into someone’s mind

It wasn’t a language any human could decipher, but he’d press his ‘mouth’ to your neck or cheek and speak a quick note of affection there, anyway.

You seemed to understand it was loving. And when one day he’d tucked his face into your shoulder and his faceplate pulses ticklishly against your skin again, he was suddenly ecstatic when you leaned your throat against his head and hummed quickly, in the same rhythm he did, mocking his gesture

So, technically, you were telling him you loved him back by repeating his ‘message’, and you had no idea.

He wouldn’t admit a thing to you, but you could tell it made him pretty happy.

And while he preferred his version of “kisses” to yours, he would never turn down your ways of showing him that you loved him

[peaxhxhair]

Raising Kids with them - Overwatch Heroes

Featuring: Cassidy, Mercy, Moira, Roadhog, Junker Queen Warnings: Moira. A/n: this isn't exactly the official setting for each character - but this is fanfiction so we're gonna ignore it lol Navigation Overwatch - MASTERLIST Consider becoming a member! <3

Odessa Stone (Junker Queen)

She wouldn't be into having kids at first - thinking that something so small would make her weak.

It does - but she refuses to admit it.

You both decided adoption was probably the best option - adopting a sweet baby girl.

I think Dez would be all about teaching her kids to fight.

Even before they've learnt to walk.

"C'mon kiddo! I was fighting at your age!"

Sometimes you would find her playing with your baby - making it look as if they were both boxing.

It was quite a funny sight.

You'll come home from work and find them watching wrestling or something.

Probably swears around your kid.

Your babies first word is probably 'cunt' or 'fuck'

You're usually the one to take your daughter to school, but on the off chance Dez does - the rest of the parents are scared of her.

The kids adore her though.

She'll struggle doing stuff like diaper changes at first - as anyone would

~~~

As your daughter gets older - she grows into a mini version of Dez.

She wont call her 'mom' - instead calling her something silly like 'cunt' or 'fuckwit'

Dez gets a real kick out of it - and does the same.

Dez would be a little disappointed if your kid didn't want to fight, though she'd still be supportive - even if she didn't really understand.

Cries on your daughters wedding day - but tries to hide it.

"I'm not crying cunt, you're crying"

Mako Rutledge (Roadhog)

I think Mako would be really good with kids-

Big brooding dad & cute tiny daughter combo type vibe

Maybe she's really talkative, and he just listens.

He'd let her put clips in his hair and paint his nails.

It's giving Gru when his girls are doing ballet.

He's always the one to hold the kids when needed - since he barely has any issue.

His hands are just so big.

Even if you had like - 4 kids he would have no trouble carrying them all.

You were grateful that you could have some time alone sometimes, as Mako is a very competent father.

'crane's hand back while driving when kid opens snack' dad

Your kid might pretend to wear his shoes - and they can barely even stand properly in them, let alone walk.

Moira O'Deorain 

Does not want kids.

Only agreed because you would make a face at her whenever you saw a baby.

test-tube baby fr

Literally will not go to another doctor about her kids health.

Does she know anything about kids? No.

Does she think she knows more than the QUALIFIED children's doctors? Absolutely she does.

MIGHT agree to taking your kid to see Angela - if you're not too keen on her doing science on your kid.

HATES being called mom.

She's fine with your kid just calling her by her name.

This was weird on the first day of school - most parents thinking your kids other parent wasn't in the picture.

She was fine with that idea - meaning that you 'left' your old partner for her. Narcissist.

~~~

Your babies first word was definitely her name.

but in the cute baby way.

'Moiwa'

When your kid gets a little older, maybe they'll ask about Moira's arm.

"This is what happens when you smoke"

Your kid will never even THINK about smoking ever again.

It isn't until they're 30 that they realise that wasn't true.

Prefers to keep her kids away from science - as much as it was important to her.

She'll barely talk to you about it either - which may be hard if you're also a part of Talon.

Having to bring your kids to work with you is definitely SOMETHING.

You'd prefer for them to be with you rather than with Moira, though.

Your kids are NOSY, so you have to bend the truth a little bit.

Just to make sure they don't view their mom as the ruthless geneticist that she ACTUALLY is.

"Why is miss Amelie blue?"

"She didn't eat her vegetables"

Angela Ziegler (Mercy)

BIG on consistent check-ups.

Sometimes she'll do them herself, but she prefers the professionals.

She doesn't specialise in child care, but she does make sure that your child is going to the best doctor in the field.

Definitely enjoys shopping for baby clothes.

Works with baby on lap - letting the little guy play with her fingers.

Aeroplane noises while getting the baby to eat.

does NOT let the kid eat candy until they're like 10.

This was hard for you - because it meant you couldn't have candy in the house.

Secret stash of sweets hidden somewhere in your car.

One in Overwatch HQ too.

ALWAYS prepared.

Baby needs a snack? She's got cut up grapes in her bag.

Always has wipes and diapers.

"Hey babe? Where's their bottle?" She's already retrieved it from the drying rack.

Tiny first-aid kid in her bag at ALL times.

~~~

If your kid wants their ears pierced at Claire's. ABSOLUTELY NOT.

Angela is panicked at any idea of infections - especially when it comes to your kid.

Your kiddo is made to wear clip on earrings until they qualify to be pierced by a professional.

Will always make sure places are baby safe before you take your kid there.

~~~

She's calm 90% of the time - she just cares about general safety and health.

Matching onesies with your kid.

Chilli and Bingo core :)

Angela would LOVE doing Halloween costumes for your kiddo.

They're always so CUTE.

If she has the time, she'll put together matching family ones.

Cole Cassidy

Baby carrier dad.

Like he'll just carry your baby everywhere.

Gets upset when he has to put the little guy down.

"We're just fine over here. No need to pull us apart"

Your child definitely prefers him to you - which you're fine with.

It's just so cute seeing them play together.

I'd say he's a girl dad - the type to teach her how to shoot, or play football with.

9 times out of ten, he'll fall asleep while reading her a bedtime story, so he always just ends up sleeping in your daughters bed with her.

The two of them cuddled up on the tiny mattress - he's holding your little girl so protectively.

~~~

The moms at the nursery you take your daughter to all think Cole is hot.

Too right.

They just need to learn to keep their hands to themselves.

Your kid is very protective of him - and your relationship.

If you're married, she'll be like;

"Daddy, show her your wedding ring!! Isn't it nice?"

It makes Cole chuckle every time.

Cole didn't even need to shut the women down - your kid was doing all the work for him.

~~~

Definitely the dad that all of your kids friends like

"Your dad is so cool!"

He's always invited to their little tea parties and stuff.

Yes, he will put on the crown and princess dress.

[ya-zz]

This was supposed to be a drabble... Take it, considering I haven't uploaded a fic in awhile, plus I really enjoyed writing this. Kudos to @yore-donatsu for the prompt! || Small headcanon on Rama: When in Nemesis, he can only use one pair of arms at a time. Imagine him in a situation where his Nemessis arms are stuck (and he can't free himself because otherwise he's in trouble) and he's swinging a stupid “I'm stuck” ||

Ramattra x Reader

Word Count: 1705

The sound of Ramattra turning to his nemesis form no longer startles you, being around him for several months now, it became a somewhat normal sound to hear alongside the usual day to day chaos. Of course, the only time you would hear him turn was when he was furious, using his larger form to threaten those around him. 

Then of course, there were the times he would use it to protect you from unwanted intruders or threats; his arms would encase you in a slightly uncomfortable but protective grasp. 

Though, this time, there was no fuzzy static that usually fades into the air when he finally comes back to his normal form. Instead, his voice rings out from across the room, pulling you out of the meditation you were under. 

“I require assistance, urgently.”

With a semi-irritated sigh, you stand and turn only to face Ramattra who was stuck near his workbench. He stares at you, circuits burning in an embarrassed flush as he watches you approach cautiously. I am not hearing the end of this, he thought.

“I may have miscalculated the space around me.” He says, nemesis arms tangled in a mass of wires. 

“How on earth did you manage that?” 

“Do not question me. Help me.” You could hear the authority in his tone. 

With a scoff, you respond, “You have other arms.” You point to the ones crossed at his chest. 

“I-“ His vocaliser cuts off, a click to reset before he speaks again. “I cannot use them in this form.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “You’re joking.” 

“I am not.” 

“Ramattra-“ 

“Please. I cannot free myself.” Desperation follows. 

Another thought crosses your mind, causing you to smirk which the omnic picks up on immediately. 

“Do not get any ideas.” His tone lowers, threatening you. The embarrassment was already too much to handle and he sure as hello asn’t in the mood to play.

“Oh, but why not? You look so… vulnerable all tangled up.” 

Ramattra watches your face, searching for any mischievous glint as your hands glide up his arms, resting them on his shoulders before your fingers trail up his neck. You feel the hum of his body at your fingertips as you lean up and plant a playful kiss where white meets purple. 

“Remove these wires immediately.” The omnic before you lowers his head slightly as he makes his demands. His larger arms tense, fists clenching among the wires as his irritation grows.

“What if I don’t?” You tease. 

“Quit playing.” Ramattra’s tone darkens, his nemesis fingers twitching. “Untangle me this instant.” 

You could hear the rising frustration in his voice. Rolling your eyes, you back down. “Okay, okay. Just stay still.”

The embarrassment that Ramattra was feeling didn’t subside, no matter how careful and soft your hands were. His fans whir loudly, puffs of steam leaving the vents in his back as you work on freeing him. He focuses on the way you touch him, though he cannot feel much, a project for a later date, it calms him somewhat. You were always so gentle with his body, not wanting to damage him as spare parts were scarce. 

Fingers would tease their way under the wires that had wrapped tightly around the metal before being tugged away, looping under and over another wire. Some of them were easy to remove, only needing a small pull to free it before letting it drop to the floor. The ones that were not budging needed that little extra strength to loosen them. There was a near silence that filled the room, neither one talking. The only noises were the clattering of wires as they fell to the floor and the omnics chassis humming. Soon enough, the pile of wires on the floor grew and one of his arms was slowly freed.  

“Why can’t you move your other arms?” You question to break the silence. 

“It will overload my systems. It is already a difficult task keeping this form up. You have seen that I can only stay like this for so long before I revert back to my usual state.” Ramattra states, matter-of-factly. 

“Ah, so you can’t multitask.” 

“That-“ He lets out an irritated sigh. “You are insufferable, you know that?” 

“I will leave you here.” You yank a wire that pulls him down with a grunt. 

He shoots you a glare in return, optical aperture shifting. “Do not.”

“Then be nice, otherwise, you can stay here longer.” Another wire joins the pile on the floor. “You need better cable management.” 

Ramattra scoffs, head tilting away from you. “My cables are fine.” 

You flick him on the neck, where he can feel it. “You know what I mean.”

He grumbles, muttering something in omnicode as one of his nemesis arms falls limp. Ramattra watches as you move to his other arm, starting to detangle the wires that had wrapped around it. It was the same process, the tighter wires needed more thought and the loose ones only a simple pull. You were careful, not wanting to scratch the metal that made up his arms. This arm was held a little higher due to the weight of his other one pulling him down at an angle. Standing on your toes, you wobble, though Ramattra wouldn’t be able to catch you if you did fall. 

You mumble to yourself, shaking from the stress of freeing him. “Next time, I am exploiting this scenario.” 

“There will not be a next time.” Ramattra’s tone darkens slightly as he responds, your mumble not going unheard. He huffs, vocaliser clicking to reset. “I am not embarrassing myself by letting this happen again.” 

“Oh? You’re embarrassed? Because you’ve had to ask for help from a human?” You smirk, knowing exactly the reaction you’ll get out of him. 

The omnic grunts, nemesis fist clenching tightly that you hear the metal scratching against each other. There goes that plan of not damaging his exterior… 

“Watch it, pet. You will not like the outcome.” 

The moment his arm is free from its restraints, the larger of his hands grab at your waist, pushing you against the wall. 

The sudden motion catches you off guard, a startled gasp escaping your throat as your back hits the concrete. You watch as the fingers of his normal form twitch against his arms. He’s losing restraint. 

Ramattra stares down at you, optics scanning your features. His head cocks to the side as he speaks; “perhaps another time I will give you want you want.” There was a playful tint to his tone, He knows how to rile you up in all the right ways.

His shadow looms over you, but you weren’t scared. Despite his intimidating stature, you knew who he was. He was your partner, his threats never meant any harm to you, half the time you never took him seriously anyway. You knew that behind his ‘threatening’ demeanour, he was nothing but a sweetheart. He had a soft sport for you and only you. You were special to him and he always made sure that you knew that.

“Perhaps next time you’ll have control over both sets of arms- ow!” Ramattra squeezes you slightly, not enough to cause serious harm, but as a warning. 

Before he has a chance to speak, the air around the both of you grows fuzzy, a slight static tickling your arms before he transforms back to his normal state. 

The larger hands had left your sides, small indentations litter your back and stomach from the sharp edges of his fingers, the cloth of your shirt not being enough protection from his grasp. 

“You are lucky I cannot hold that form for long.” He states, leaning down towards you. A chuckle escapes his vocaliser as he places his hands on your sides. They were softer, smaller, than his other hands. 

Ramattra pulls you flush against him, pressing his body into yours. “Thank you.” He is gentle in his normal form.

Bringing your own hands up, you hold him back, fingers trailing the metal braces that travel from his chest to his back before finally resting them just above the top most brace. 

You smile, leaning your head against his. “Anything for you.”

Ramattra hums softly, his hands travelling up your back. His sensors pick up the change in heart rate and the way your body relaxes against his. You’re warm against him and he finds himself feeling at home in your arms. 

“I will clean up.” He states, pulling away from you. 

“Let me help-” “You have done enough. Let me.” He chuckles, moving away to pick up the cables on the floor. He’s quick to coil them up, tying them together before putting them into a box. “I owe you for freeing me.” 

“You owe me nothing. It was a simple mistake.” You reassure him, not wanting anything in return. Watching him, you note he’s cautious of how they are placed. “You are being careful, why?”

He hesitates, holding the box in hand before sliding it under the workbench. “An old habit from the monastery.” 

You nod in understanding, approaching him quietly. You slide your hands around his waist, pressing your head against his back. His inner workings hum louder, your motion catching him off guard. 

“Do you miss it? The monastery, I mean?”

“Yes.” He replies solemnly. “But I cannot change what happened.” 

“If it any consolation, I’m glad that you’re here, Ramattra.” 

He places his hands on top of yours, thumb rubbing across your knuckles. “As am I.”

The room falls silent as you hold him. It was a touchy subject, one you never pressed. He would tell you in his own time. 

“Come on. It is getting late.” He finally speaks out. The omnic turns to face you, grabbing your hands and holding them. 

You smile up at him, enjoying the intimate moment you’re sharing. “I do not want to leave just yet.” Your voice was quiet as you stare at his hands.

He hums, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.  “Then we can stay here until you are ready to go.” 

“I would like that.” You almost whisper in response.

Ramattra tilts his head, cupping your cheek in his hand. 

“Then together we shall stay.” 

[cherryrainn]

cuddle headcanons with our beloved cole cassidy, hanzo shimada, and junkrat!

OKAYYYYY IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— cuddle chronicles

cuddle headcanons with cassidy, hanzo and junkrat.

COLE CASSIDY ♡

when cuddling with cassidy, you'd find yourself enveloped in his strong arms, feeling his warmth and the sense of security he exudes.

he might pull you closer, as if shielding you from the world, his calm presence making you feel safe.

cassidy can be quite playful with those he's close to. while cuddling, he might crack a joke or make a lighthearted remark, his signature cowboy charm shining through.

his calloused fingers would trace patterns on your back, their roughness contrasting with his gentle touch. it's as if he's silently reassuring you that he's there.

cassidy's occasional cocky attitude might manifest even during cuddle time. he might smirk and playfully boast about how he's 'the best cuddler in the west', all while squeezing you closer to him.

he might rest his chin on top of your head, his beard tickling your forehead.

just like he treats his weapons with care, cassidy treats you with gentleness and respect during cuddles.

cassidy might tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. his scarred eye holds a softness that's reserved only for you, and in that moment, you feel truly cherished.

tough cowboy on the outside, softie on the inside.

"you know you're stuck with me now, right?"

HANZO SHIMADA ♡

hanzo's serious and introspective nature might extend to cuddling as well.

he's not one to initiate cuddles readily, but when he does, it's a significant gesture.

his cuddles are filled with warmth and security, a quiet way of showing how much he cares for you.

due to his reserved personality, hanzo prefers cuddling in more private settings. whether it's a quiet evening at home or a serene spot outdoors, he feels most at ease when it's just the two of you.

hanzo's strong arms provide a sense of protection as he holds you close. you can feel his muscles tense and relax as he adjusts his hold, making sure you're as comfortable as possible.

his touch is gentle yet firm, reflecting his disciplined nature.

hanzo's company is soothing, even if he doesn't say much. often, his cuddles are accompanied by a comfortable silence. the two of you might watch the sunset or simply listen to the sounds of nature, the silence speaking volumes about your connection.

hanzo's preference might be to lay down together, side by side. he'll often pull you close, your head resting on his chest, and he'll wrap his arm around you. feeling the steady beat of his heart and his rhythmic breathing can be incredibly calming.

hanzo might unconsciously run his fingers through your hair as you cuddle, a soothing and comforting gesture.

"thank you for being the unexpected light in my life."

JUNKRAT ♡

junkrat's not the typical cuddler, but he has his moments. cuddling with him might involve a tangle of limbs and explosions-themed plushies strewn about. he might grumble about it being too sappy, but his mischievous glint betrays his enjoyment.

despite his wild exterior, junkrat gives surprisingly warm hugs. he might not admit it, but his tight grip and genuine smile show he values physical closeness.

he'd create a cozy corner in his hideout for cuddling. piled high with pillows and blankets, it's an explosion-free zone where you both can unwind.

for all his bluster, junkrat can be surprisingly cautious with his touches. he'd hover his hand over your shoulder before committing to the cuddle, almost as if he's not sure how you'll react.

he'd absentmindedly play with your hair, fascinated by its texture and colors. his fingers are deft, his touch gentle despite his typically explosive nature.

junkrat's cuddles are accompanied by his distinctive laughter, which often manages to light up the room even more than his explosive devices.

while cuddling, he might tell you silly stories.

if he's awake during the night, he'd keep watch over you while you sleep. his protective side shows as he softly brushes his fingers across your cheek.

every now and then, you catch him in quieter moments of introspection, and he pulls you in for a cuddle that's surprisingly tender.

"don't think i've gone all mushy on ya now."

[nekovmancer]

Broken porcelain

pairing: Ramattra x f!reader  prompt: sexual tension when tending to someone's wound from this list warnings: semi-nsfw, mentions of blood, injuries, semi-nudity, swearing, reader being a bit masochist etc etc word count: 2272 a/n: backstreet's back, alright! and finally. 😎 I’ve been a bitch with a big B for Ramattra over the past couple months, and of course I had to write a piece on that robot guy. He gives me… feels I can’t explain. So, for all my fellow robot fuckers, hope you enjoy reading this as much as I’ve enjoyed writing! Feedback is always appreciated and please please please send an ask, a chat, anything so we can talk about this big guy and more fanfiction prompts. 😭 also on ao3!

Who would ever say to be a human amongst killing machines would, impressively, be a dreadly task? Or deadly, you would remark to yourself after a long walk of dragging your wounded body through the corridors from the training field to Ramattra’s personal workshop. At least, those new assassin omnics would perform their duties impeccably, you could tell from the way they cut through your skin without a single issue.

The wound was still covered under the thin layer of the tank top you have on, the white fabric damp of crimson blood denouncing something went terribly wrong, not to mention the pained expression contorting your face. 

As soon as he eyes your state, if Ramattra could bring a worried expression to the surface of his faceplate, he would, a mirror to the torment running through his systems. He was an engineer, not a human healer, but you needed him to act more as such in the present moment if you’re both willing for you to stay alive, which you indeed were. 

Growing impatient, not to mention the pain reaching under your skin, you adjust yourself slowly on top of his workbench, holding your side to prevent any further damage. Your fingers get moist with blood, and that has your lips twitching. “Can you fix me or not?” 

“That depends on your meaning of fixing,” he states, a stoic demeanor on the outside despite feeling quite the opposite inside. Feeling. Something he didn’t think to be inclined to, at least not when those diverged from the violence he was shaped to perform as a being… and yet, here they are, as foreign to him as the surgical aspects of flesh and bone. “I can’t weld you, obviously. At least, not as a first resource,” his slight humor brings a faint smirk to your lips, slowly shaking your head in a quiet response. In a lighter tone, Ramattra proceeds, and now it’s definitely a command. “I would like to have a closer look.”

Quietness follows, not as fast as the warmth spreading from your neck to the tip of your ears. To say you hadn’t considered you’d need to remove your shirt was unnecessary, in front of him of all people, ‘cause you’d rather overcome your own fear of blood if a second thought had you aware of the chances before. But as the old saying remarked: if you are in hell already, just go and sit on the goddamn devil’s lap.

Proceeding a thick swallow, you do as you’re told, diverting your eyes to a corner to avoid examining the cut yourself, or to avert them from Ramattra’s, anything and everything were an excuse in such a situation. It hurt just enough to be something you knew you couldn't handle alone, and considering how sharp that assassin’s knives were… fuck’s sake, what a weak fool you were.

On the other hand, at the sight of your almost bare torso, Ramattra felt inexplicably tense. The wound itself was not too deep to reach anything vital, but would need a patch up indeed in order to heal properly. Yet, his sight wasn’t restrained to that minor part of your skin, and that’s when tension was found. Maybe the vocabulary wasn’t a perfect fit, ‘cause that jolt of electricity running through his circuits was something else, something as sublime as the curve of your hips, and the way you shallow breaths of anticipation had your body quivering, despite an enormous strength to keep it still. He could hardly find beauty in human beings, and let’s not even mention himself, but that was a whole different scenario… warm, with a hint of degradation he couldn’t ignore, and something that could only be named as akin to desire. 

The silence was killing you now, almost making you forget the very pain which brought you there in the first place. “Will we be helding any funerals?” you risk, in the same light humor he used with you before. At least, if you didn’t consider the shaking tone in each syllable you’d pronounced. You thought Ramattra couldn’t  never understand your concerns fully, even if he invested all his force to: if the worst happened, he could be reconstructed, you were there for it after all. But as a human, it’s not like you have a respawn chance anytime. That’s why, aside the anxiety turning your stomach into a knot, you needed him to act. 

“You speak as if it's more severe than it is in fact,” he muses, tilting his head as the scanners on his optics do the rest of the work, searching for the right proceeding in a shared data file, where he was hoping to get anything from an omnic model whose initial propose, contrasting his, was to heal, not to kill. “No funerals, you have my word. The pain may be harsh, but the wound itself is of little harm in the bigger picture. You’re safe,” the addition of the last sentence has you sighing in relief, and a pinch of pain reaches you once more, but it’s bearable. Ramattra made you feel protected, or better, cared for. The warm feeling is enough to soothe your anxiety, dissipating the chill air in the workshop for a little while before rushing up to your cheeks as you’re reminded you’re still half naked in front of him. 

“Lay,” he commands, and your breath gets caught in your throat in the act. Only if your mouth were open, your heart would surely jump out if it during one of its chaotic heartbeats, contrasting the steady tone on Ramattra’s voicebox, echoing those words without a single trace of malice. But when they hit you, they sounded profane, leaving a delicate trace of forbidden to the tip of your tongue. 

You curse your mind as you lay down, a shiver erupting from the contact of warm skin to the cold metal of his workbench’s surface. Fuck, he’s your commander, superior office or whatever goes between you both, your boss to be short. Thing is he saw a purpose for you and spared your life long ago, and that purpose goddamn sure didn’t imply any… deeper contact than the occasional intellectual help you provided, with efficient (and smaller) hands and a cunning mind. After all, no Ravager was made to indulge in such a thing as intimacy, the very same thought cursing through Ramattra’s systems right now. He wasn’t built for delicacy, a single gentle touch for his standards would be brutal enough to leave you bruised for days, and how he would lament to see such perfect skin ruined by his own hands… unbearable to even think of it without feeling a strange sensation housing between his metallic limbs, pushing further inside in search of a bloody beating heart among the cold hardware. 

It wasn’t the first time he felt unsure in his existence, but that was a whole new thing. To think one like him was able to possess a spirit tender enough to be mesmerized by such a fragile thing as you touched him not physically, but deeper than it could ever be… how thrilling it was, but insufficient to make him search for its source on his internal data to completely erase it. No, never. He was actually holding into it with every fiber of his soul, curious to see which path it would lead him through. A bit embarrassing, at first impression, like the sight of you would burn his optics until they melt.

After all these years working along, was it there all the time? Within him, within you? He would search for it later, revisiting each time you shared each other's company in his memory, to see where a quiet admiration turned into this. 

After gathering the resources to fix you, ensuring everything was sterilized, he turned to sight over your form once more. Ramattra could sense the rapid heartbeat against your chest controlling your breath motions, the rising and falling of your chest following along, where he caught a peek of your nipples drawing a small circle under the fabric of your top, the last barrier between him and your fully exposed torso. Thankfully, unlike any human, his faceplate didn't betray any of his thoughts. They’re guarded within his systems, safe in his memory and imprinted there forever. Nothing could ever make him forget of you, nor time, nor enemies, nor… fuck, the injury. 

“It would feel better if you were asleep,” he commences, carefully. You’re already scared for it seems, and it’s not on his wishes to make it worse. “Instead, I will ask you to bite on this,” the discarded cloth of your tank top is brought to your lips, and your heart could have stopped right there. Instead, avoiding the disbelief, you silently obey. “Try not to move. I shall be slow.”

A nod follows, and you gather your best to not whine, or flinch, or sob too much when his hands begin to work, stitching the wound close. Whatever sounds leaving your mouth are muffled, and the pain is great. But erotic. And, fuck, you should be loosing your mind by this point. How could your brain process such agony in a pleasurable way? You’d be blaming the omnic in charge of patching you up, for sure. It was him, after all, all about him. 

Ramattra was enormous, and the effort he put in each precise movement didn’t go unnoticed. He could have discarded you, blamed you for your mistakes, assigned anyone else to deal with this bullshit, but there he was: the infamous Null Sector leader, treating you as a precious porcelain tea-cup, once broken, now being patched in threads of gold, despite the gold being metaphorical. It was a form of art, wasn’t it? You’ve read of it somewhere, once. If so, right now, you’re his masterpiece.

To say he’s being delicate is a statement. Ramattra is afraid he could shatter you again, worse than they did with you before. The responsible for it would be severely corrected, later of course. The pads on his fingertips could never be soft as your skin feels under them, and an eagerness to venture further brings a shiver of electricity through his spine. Should he ever be thinking of it in your state? In fact, was it reasonable to have you consuming his memory like this, injured or not? What could be a groan echoes from his voicebox, and within a few long minutes, it was done. 

Your jaw clenches to the minimum effort of raising your torso, sitting on his workbench once more as a small discomfort to the newly sewn cut emerges. Covered in bandages, you can’t see his work, but there’s no blood and the pain is moderate, so you trust with your eyes closed it’s perfectly fine. Your shirt is sitting by your side, bloodied and wet from your own saliva, but you don’t mention reaching for it. 

Blinking, your eyes search for him, meeting the stoic faceplate turned to you. Silence lingers as you both stare at each other, considering every single thought that coursed through your minds during the late couple of hours. Was it genuine? Absolutely. Would you voice them? No, surely not. Tension is still there, so palpable you could touch it, and shattering it would come with a price. 

A small blush color your cheeks red, and you finally manage to break eye contact with a hint of timidity. Too much to ask of you for a little time of strong, contrasting emotions, still tickling under your skin as the adrenaline begins to sparse. Clearing your throat, you’re the first to speak. “I apologize,” it begins as simple as it, almost ending the sentence there as your eyes don’t dare to move from your lap and you choose carefully what to say, and what to keep to yourself. Ramattra may have performed a solid progress towards emotions, but you feared he would fail to comprehend the turmoil in yours. “It wasn’t strict of your concern, nor a matter you should care for as you did, and I-”

“I had to,” he cut you off, sternly. Now that you’re safe, his worries tend to other subjects, still resonating over you. Was he too obvious, despite his best efforts? Couldn’t be, and yet he wished fervently for you to point it out, verbalizing what he was too afraid to: he wanted to keep you close, and safe, more than he ever did. “Whatever happens to you is my business, especially if it's a menace to your well being,” Ramattra takes a step closer, his fingers aching to reach for your face, and soothe that sorry expression out of it. Instead, he keeps them to his sides, clenching them a fist. “So don’t apologize for it. It wasn’t your fault, in the first place, and yet I’ll ask you to be careful and not wander over the training field whenever a new IA is being tested.”

A short nod follows a faint smile. His words were gentle, not explicitly voicing what he meant in between the lines, but you knew it nonetheless. Ramattra cared for you, more than you could have thought, and enough to satisfy your heart. “I don’t even know how to begin thanking you.”

“Dressing will do,” a chuckle reverberated in his metallic rib cage, and if his words alone wouldn’t catch you yet, it would be enough to make your face red as a cherry for, somehow, you were able to sense a trace of malice in Ramattra. “Rest now, human. I shall meet you when the day is done.”

[korpuskat]

Spectrum

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader Rating: Mature (sexual content referenced, but not explicit) WC: 2,918 Warnings: None Sequel to In A Different Light -----

The lackey behind the counter hardly looks up, barely says anything as they pass you the repair request forms. It's fine, you get it. Menial labor, repetitive office bullshit, dealing with the guys who walk their mechs into walls when training while trying to avoid the higher-ups gaze. Normal Talon stuff. This is perfectly true until he asks you what floor of the barracks you're on, what wing.

And suddenly the lady behind him perks up. She doesn't even try to hide how she looks you over, making some unspoken assessment, then grins and returns to her tablet.

The barely suppressed smile infects his voice with excitement. "Don't suppose you're in 1813, are you?"

Oh. Fuck. "Yeah, I am."

"Kinda wondering when you'd make it down here." He says, typing in your information. "If you would."

You shouldn't say anything. You really, really shouldn't.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, you know." He grins at you, fucking winks like you're in on the joke. "There was a pool if you'd be here or the infirmary first."

The infirmary? Why would you- actually, he did break your bed and leave a hole in your wall and you have had this peculiar ache behind your belly button and you definitely have huge purple splotches over your hips where he'd grabbed you, so, okay, that's fair.

"I guess you won then." Is the light-lipped answer you come up with, unsure how to explain that you really don't want to be part of this conversation anymore. Please, just fix your bed and wall. Gossip when you're not around.

The guy opens his mouth- and you feel it before his expression changes. A cool wind brushes against the back of your neck, down your spine, over the backs of your arms. Sickly, somehow, like the air itself clings to you, crawls on you. Everyone behind the counter looks away. His joy is gone, but the fear is carefully masked. "Reason for repairs?"

Behind you, boots stomp by. He doesn't leave, from the sound, from the way nobody exhales. You don't look, keep your eyes trained on the counter, on a little fleck where the linoleum is peeling away. He's somewhere in a corner, waiting for something. "Accident."

The lackey visibly cringes. Suddenly he, too, doesn't want to be in this conversation. "Gotta be more specific."

Fucker. Your voice is barely restrained as you bite out, "Sparring accident."

Behind you, the Reaper snorts.

When Ramattra returns to your base, perhaps only two weeks later, you really expect him to just proceed as business as usual. Like nothing had happened; he'd sated his curiosity, you're off his radar. Figuratively. You do not, under any circumstances, expect to be pulled off regular duties to be part of his temporary squadron.

It's a formality. He doesn't need one. He's here to inspect an airship, to discuss modifications to be made before it goes into mass production.

With an irritated sigh and wave of his hand, he summarily dismisses the entire squadron as soon as he sees them waiting in the hangar. The rest leave. You should join them. It's so... presumptuous, to think he thinks about you, that he even remembers you. He's leading a revolution for his people and you're a grunt he fucked once. But your boots may as well have been glued to the floor, no matter how much you want to scream at yourself to move, to turn away, you can't.

And his gaze settles on you.

And he nods towards the airship's ramp.

You follow behind him.

It's the first time you watch him leave. Every time before- three, now, not that you're counting- he's quietly departed your quarters. After making sure you're well cared for. That part had always confused you- left your chest aching in a way completely different than your hips.

But this time, you're not left alone in your mattress working up the courage to go file a repair request again. No, as part of his squadron you get to see him off this time. It's all a show, Ramattra had complained about it before- serves nothing but to boost their little human egos. He wasn't wrong, there's no need for you to be here. In fact, you really don't want to be here.

You've never seen Doomfist in person, but he personally escorts Ramattra to his shuttle. He speaks confidently, but quietly enough you can't make out what he's saying, even as he gestures broadly with his cybernetic arm. Even seeing him content makes your stomach flip uneasily, not wanting to be around if something does go wrong.

Ramattra... looks different. It's hard to believe how quickly you've become used to seeing him relaxed. Not just when he's moving in you- no, even when he sits with you, walks about the base, he never looks like this anymore. All seriousness and focused, the weight of the world back on his shoulders.

They speak a moment more, then Ramattra bows his head and turns towards his ship. He stops-

and across the launch bay, Ramattra's faceplate turns towards you. He pauses. Says nothing, hardly moves- but you know. He's looking directly at you. You stare back, unsure why you have his attention now- and ever so slightly his head dips. A tiny nod goodbye, just for you.

Your chest aches.

You smile slightly and nod back- and he's gone, entering his ship and flying away.

You don’t know who finally made the call to assign Ramattra temporary quarters at your base, but you would love to have seen that conversation. Because Ramattra’s voice is perfectly neutral as he comments that his quarters had not only a heavy duty, solid steel bed frame to support his weight- nevermind that he doesn’t sleep- but also reinforced walls.

They knew, of course. But the fact that someone high up enough knew to make the recommendation is what really gets you. Because nobody has said anything to you. Maybe they’re smart enough to- you doubt Ramattra would be particularly pleased with you being public knowledge.

And, well, not saying anything has ended up being your approach with Ramattra so far, too. Despite the frequency that he’d return to your doorway (and now you to his), or the repeated repair requests and occasional trips to medical and skeptical looks in return, you’d never explicitly asked what was going on. What exactly you were to him.

And normally that would be fine! Soldier’s bond or whatever, some bullshit to say “logistically and emotionally easiest lay.” It’s common enough. But you’ve never laid in a squadmate’s bed hours after, never dozed lightly in someone else’s blankets as they work at the desk a foot away- and never felt that perhaps that was still too far from you.

It’s the latter right now that sits heavy on your chest.

You shift beneath his sheets- a silky, deep purple that ripples with every moment. You watch, silent, as he turns some kind of device in his hands, taps it occasionally with an electric soldering iron. You sit up slowly, lean into his pillows. Even the pillowcases match. Probably actual silk knowing Talon’s propensity to keep their board members happy. Fuckers. He doesn’t even meditate on the bed.

“Ramattra,” The question bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “Can I… kiss you?”

He stills. But here, you must acknowledge how close you’ve gotten- because you can tell. Where someone else may feel that pang of fear, that his quiet is a wind-up to rage or impatience or condescension, no, you can read his shoulders perfectly. He’s genuinely contemplating the request.

He looks to you, and he doesn’t need a face for you to feel the incredulity in his voice. “You do understand I do not possess a mouth, correct?”

“I know.” You stand and sweep one thin blanket with you as you move to him. And here- he turns away from his project, sets his iron down, opens his arms for you. When you settle into his lap, he supports you- and when you reach for his face, his jaw, he lowers his head into your touch. You sweep a thumb across the lowest part of the white composite, feel the little crease between it and the purple of his jaw plate. “But I could still kiss you..”

His whole face rumbles into your palm as he hums, considering this. “Alright, though I do not understand what you would gain from this.”

And that is a lie, though you’re not sure who it’s for. It’s fine though, you don’t call him on it. Instead, you guide his head down as you stretch up- until your breath ghosts against him, leaving little puffs of foggy condensation. And you kiss him. Right across the seam between his plates, your lips squishing into the gap, flattening against his metal.

And it would be like kissing a training bot, all cold, motionless metal against your lips- and that must be what he expects you to feel, his disbelief you’d get anything from this. It would be, except for everything else about him. His hands come up to the curve of your spine, to the back of your head, cradling you so gently- and even with such a small display, his fans kick up, a quiet hum purring a hair louder from his chest. Without a mouth, he’s hardly unaffected- and against his faceplate you smile and pull away. His optics cannot, by design, be half-lidded and glazed, but you think they would be if they could.

“Did that… satisfy you?” He rumbles lowly.

“For now.” You grin and tuck yourself deeper into his lap. When he realizes you have no intention of returning to his bed, he makes a show of sighing and adjusting the stolen blanket so you’re well-wrapped and all the ends are tucked safely away before he returns to his work.

"Can I ask you a question?" You murmur, eyes still closed. He's foregone the blanket this time, holding you right up against his chest; you had curled up with him so quickly he hasn't even had time to put his paneling back on. The spars of his ribs are a little uncomfortable, but he's still so warm that you can't complain.

"Of course." His systems have already refreshed, perfectly capable of going on with his day. Unlike you, you're still wavering and floaty and in need of a shower. He's used to it. Being able to hold you afterwards is... enjoyable. He allows himself to trace shapes over your skin. He had noticed, once, how you smile softly when he does it.

"It's personal."

Ramattra's head shifts, looks down at you slightly. He's told you about himself. About the times before he was himself, about the Shambali, about the slave shops he's destroyed, about London. About Lanet. What could you possibly ask that you felt the need to warn him about first? "Go on."

"Who did you make your dick for?" Oh. He shifts awkwardly, ceases the motions of his hands. When he doesn't answer you continue, "You told me you didn't make it for humans, so, I dunno. Was just curious."

It takes several moments before he can manage to put together a stilted "Does it matter?"

You hum softly and lean back against him. "No." You swap the places of your hand with his, sweeping your thumb across the purple plating. You really didn't want to upset him- the likelihood his previous relationships have ended particularly badly is ridiculously high. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me about your exes. Like I said, just curious."

Ramattra has never quite understood the desire to grimace until now. It's not important, and yet... that annoying little whisper has returned to his circuits, prodding at his runtimes until he's forcing the words through his synth. "I don't... have any... 'exes'."

This makes the gears turn in your head. There's no way. "Like... you just didn't stay with any of them?" Even as hectic as his life has been, you cannot reconcile how tenderly he's holding you with him previously being a smash and dasher. It would make sense logistically- no danger of loss or being tied down and losing focus on his work, but… there’s just no way.

"No." He all but squirms. "I never used it before you."

"What?"

"I designed it for..." His voice cuts out as his vocoder fights him again. "...a particular omnic. To their model's... specifications. But I never used it."

You twist around in his arms, as much as he'd prefer you didn't. It's uncomfortable enough without having to see your face, without his still-not-put-away dick pressed between your bodies. "But... you told me you'd fucked before."

Around you, Ramattra bristles, his fans ramping up, his hands firming where they touch you. Too far, you did upset him. "Omnics do not need things as crude as genitals to be intimate."

The pieces come together. Not an ex, they'd been intimate, enough that he'd designed a dick just to hope, but never used it. He wanted more. You slide a hand around Ramattra's neck, over the dark plating his cowl usually hides. Normally, when you slide your fingers around the chunky cables of his mane, he'll purr or at least relax- no such luck. "Sorry," You murmur, and trace a finger along the long line of his jaw piece. "Thank you for telling me."

It takes a few moments, but eventually a soft stream of hot air slips from Ramattra's vents and he sighs. You take the cue and curl up close to him, wrapping your arms around him as best you can with his wide chest. When you think he's calmed enough, you do tack on one last comment. "I am glad you made it, though."

Thankfully, Ramattra laughs softly at that.

Ramattra holds white papers in his hand, carefully held between the rubber pads there, delicate as to not crease them before you can read them. His other hand twitches as his side, then balls into a fist. He does not meet your gaze when he enters his room. He stands there, just past the doorway, clenching and unclenching his fist, his fans slowly amping up.

"Rama?" You prompt him when he still doesn’t say anything, already scooting to the edge of his bed.

"I have to attend to the construction of a titan in person." It's flat, a statement, no particular inflection in his voice where you're clearly expecting something else. "I won't be able to return here for several weeks. At minimum."

Now it's you who looks away. It's a disappointment. You knew it was coming, three days together was already an incredible luxury. "Ah, I see." He's busy, you know this. Lots of hard work running an entire revolution almost by yourself. And you can't fault him for it- can't ask him to postpone. It's important work. "When will you have to leave?"

"Five hours. I'm also chartering transport of supplies. My omnium is short on copper wire, of all things." He says- and his focus shifts from the floor to the paper in his hands. He rubs it, watches as the paper flexes and bends, then returns to normal. You, too, observe his fidgeting and wait for the shoe to drop. You've always kind of waited for it.

"Are you- " He starts- and his synth immediately fizzles. The hand at his side tightens in frustration as he reboots it. "Are you pleased with... this?" The paper flops in his hand as he gestures vaguely between you.

This.

Never did have that conversation.

You bite your tongue, chance looking at him. None of the strain in his vocoder has made it to his faceplate, forever stuck in that passive, almost angry expression. "Yeah." If he wants to kick you out, that's fine, but you aren't going to lie about it. His visits to your base have easily become the best part of your job, the occasional message of where he is, of when he can make it back to you- it's completely different than anything you've had before. "Yeah, actually."

Ramattra's shoulders drop. "You are sure? Genuinely?"

You nod. And he holds out the paper. You don't even unfold it before he's explaining. "It's a reassignment order. Production of Null Troopers is increasing geometrically; ideally I would oversee all production lines directly from here on. It would be... advantageous to have someone else coordinate with Talon on my behalf while I am engaged with this.

"I will be very occupied. This is a critical period of staging. And I would be relying on you." Ramattra says, and there's a sternness laid over top. He wants it to sound like a job offer, to sound serious. It is, to some degree. But more than that-

"You..." The top of the paper is printed with Talon's logo, a big block of text follows, beneath is a signature line. Your eyes skim the page again- and read the most important line. Relocate to meet the needs of Null Sector. "You want me to come with you?"

A breath of silence takes the room, until he steps closer and takes one of your hands in his. So gently, he drags the rubber pad of his thumb over your knuckles. His faceplate focuses there, on the delicate bones of your hand, your wrist. "It would... please me greatly to keep you near."

The ache in your chest blooms out, spills over your cheeks.

[useeer]

Dance with me?

Venture, aka Sloan Cameron x reader

You're at your friends wedding, and somehow meet the cutest damn person in the world.

Tags: fluff, strong language, slight sexual innuendo

Enjoy!!

[Note: I haven't written a fic in 192739 yrs, and my ass hasn't been to a wedding since I was 10 so forgive my ignorance abt how they go!!]

You weren't exactly a party person.

Parties are loud, crowded and really socially taxing. While yes, you'd attend parties here and there; mostly birthdays or accomplishments for friends and family. It still wasn't your favorite thing to do. You are actually pretty upfront with others about how little social interaction you can handle. That being said... fear of disappointing your friends usually got the better of you. They were fine, partying was fun. 

Honestly, you'd be lying to everyone if you said you weren't thinking about your soft, cozy bed. Or how you were daydreaming about cuddling up to your pets and watching silly videos. Not even this beautiful wedding could curb your introvert nature.

It's evening now, the golden rays barely peeking over the horizon as it descends. A sweet, cool autumn breeze blows, ruffling your clothes and hair. A welcome comfort on this warm night.

The setting is truly beautiful. Soft, golden glowing lanterns are strung along the edges of the venue. Lush green plants in decorative pots line the edges. The pillars, stone and brick, are painted in the gentle glow of the lamps and lanterns. The style...is Greek? At least you think it's Greek. If someone told you otherwise, though, you'd take their word for it. Especially since half the people here are from the Wayfinder Society, all attending as friends of the groom. The wayfinders are sprinkled around the venue, chatting about and having a grand old time.

You? No such luck, you're only attending for your friend, who happens to be the other groom. While you know a handful of people, and did polite chit chat with them, you mostly stuck to yourself. Actually, that's a lie, you mostly stuck to the snack table. You're leaning by the side of it, plate in hand, trying just about anything there. I mean, what else are you supposed to do? 

While eating a particularly good cube of cheese, you let your eyes wander the room. You see a group of people laughing, another group chattering amongst themselves, one enthusiastically waving their hands in the air, seemingly very passionate about the subject. You snort, amused. Drifting eyes finally move over to the husbands, who were talking to an older couple, a quick hug is given here and there. 

Man. You were bored.

You weren't trying to be disrespectful here, you just didn't know anyone. Subconsciously, your leg starts bouncing, your thoughts dance to your fluffy, comfy bed. Reaching down for another snack on your plate, you’re disappointed to see they're all gone. Frowning a bit, you look over the table to see if there's anything else you'd like to try.

And boy, was there. The chocolate hair, the hazel skin, your eyes instantly locked onto the person plating their own food. They're dressed in a white button down, and black slacks, the sleeves of their dress shirt hugging them favorably. They even had a cute little yellow bowtie on. You couldn't tell their pronouns, so you figure you'd ask if you ever spoke. Which you weren't, you didn't want to intrude. They looked to be the same person absolutely raving earlier, you'd hate to keep them from it.

If they wanna speak to me, they will. You thought distantly, watching their hands as they pluck up a cupcake. 

Workers' hands. You mused, they seemed rough, and strong. They must be one of those Wayfinders. Your eyes trail their fingers, the back of their hand, man...they have really nice hands. Unbeknownst to you, your staring hasn't gone unnoticed. Their hands stills, just before the confectionery hits the plate. 

"Uhm... did you want this one?" They ask someone, curious, you look up to see who they're talking to. You finally get to see their face properly, and man they're gorgeous. Too bad you didn't have time to appreciate that fact, as your eyes instantly locked with theirs. You realize a little too late that you're the one they're talking to.

"Huh." Is all you manage to get out, unsure what the fuck to say to this stranger.

"The...cupcake?" They say, motioning it towards you. "Did you want it? You're staring at it like you want it." They say, clearly confused by the way you ogled their food.

"No- no I don't want it. I'm so sorry, ignore me." You cover your face and wave a hand in their direction, this is the worst thing you've ever done. Your face and ears burn in red hot embarrassment, you're just lucky they thought all you wanted was the damn cupcake.

They seem to find it a little funny now, how you're running away from the cupcake you were practically stalking as it left the platter. "Okayyyy, well then this is mine!" They joke, putting it onto their plate before strutting away, seemingly unperturbed by your god awful screw up.

God, you needed to sit down. 

You're practically on fire, feeling like you're gonna break into a sweat. Shakily, you find a chair in a less populated area and take a seat. You bend over, putting your face in your hands and elbows on your knees, as if trying to hide yourself. While you know, reasonably, that this isn't the end of the world, you can't help but feel like it is. You got caught! Red handed! 

Yes, they thought it was the cupcake, so maybe you weren't totally fucked. But also, you're totally fucked who are you kidding?!

You didn't exactly think you'd interact with them before, but it's awful your only interaction was weird and unseemly on your end. Groaning quietly, you remove one hand from your face to fan yourself, damn you feel stupid. 

You fan open part of your outfit, hoping in vain to let more air in to cool yourself down. Freaking out like this isn't a good look. After a couple minutes, you start to feel a little better. The flush of your cheeks is fading, and you miraculously avoided breaking into an anxious sweat. 

Sighing, you puff out your lips, you just sent texts to your closest friend about how massively you fumbled the bag. They laughed at you, while you scream-spammed the chat in horror. They did end up reassuring you that you were overreacting, that it was not in fact the end of the world. You thanked them before turning off your phone. You get up, dust yourself off a little before wandering back to the food table; finding yourself in front of the disposable drink cups, grabbing one. Gazing to the left, you find the water. You watch the water slowly drizzle into your cup, before downing the glass in a couple large gulps. Still thirsty, you fill it up again before returning to your seat.

Man, what a day, go to a beautiful wedding, see your friend get married, then fumble the biggest bag ever. You mentally kick yourself, even though on the outside, you look completely normal, sipping on your cup naturally.

Bouncing your foot a bit, you lean forward to scroll on your phone, hoping to find something interesting to pass the time and distract you. You're scrolling for about 5 minutes before someone sits next to you. Out of politeness you don't look, thinking it's another guest needing a seat. 

"Soo, about that cupcake. I ate it, definitely. But I felt a little bad. Here." The person next to you says, snapping you out of your doom scrolling. 

Why. Why why why. Is all you can think. They're fucking with you, haunting you. All over a cupcake. You look over and see they've got a small plate with another damn cupcake on it.

"Oh im- I'm not hungry anymore, thanks though." You try to nicely deflect, hoping they'll catch the hint and let you die in shame, alone. 

"Hmm, okay!" They say, they turn to face forward, unwrapping it for themself. They take a bite and bounce one of their legs, and you wonder why they're torturing you. They hum to themself as they continue to eat.

God. Please just go away...

They put their plate down and dust their hands, somehow already finishing the sickeningly sweet treat. "So." They state, placing both hands on either side of their seat, leaning forward, looking towards you. "Whatcha doing over here all by yourself?" They ask curiously.

"Well uh-" You clear your throat, "My friend’s the groom, it's his wedding. But I don't really know anyone else but him." You shrug, trying to relax and ease into conversation with them.

"Yeah, know how that feels." They say, sympathetically. "Wellll." They draw out the word, as if to emphasize it. "I was thinkin’ you could come to our table! I hate seeing anyone left out." Their smile is reassuring, until they start smirking. "Even. If. They stare at other people's food." 

Ok, you can't help it. You groan at their jab, while dragging a hand down your face. "Man, you will not drop that, huh?" You say, only a little less embarrassed this time. 

"Nope!" They tease, clearly getting a kick outta this. 

"You know what, I barely know you and you're already the worst." You joke, and your brain nearly breaks in two when they giggle at it. Their shoulders shake and they grin, still looking at you. You can't help but smile, even while trying really hard not to. They were stunning, cute and worst of all, infuriating. 

"Sorry for staring earlier...I was trying to see... your cufflinks." You say, clearly lying. As if desperately attempting to get out of the cupcake joke jail.

"Hmmm." They hum, unbelieving, eyebrows raised and nodding. "Well, too bad I don't have those." They smile, raising a hand up to show off their sleeve. 

You instantly cringe, caught once again. "Oh right." You mumble out, pursing your lips. Damn, you're fighting for your fucking life over here.

Your reaction makes them laugh. An honest to god laugh, and it's loud. They're finding WAY too much amusement in proving you wrong and you don't know why. Despite the embarrassment, you were now enjoying yourself. Talking to them, joking around, even if it's at your expense. Their laugh is almost contagious, and they've got the prettiest smile you've ever seen. 

"So.. what's your name?" You ask, your left hand fiddling anxiously at your side. Their laugh simmers down, and they sigh like they just heard the funniest joke in the world.

They hold their hand out towards you, "Sloane, yours?" You grab their hand and shake it, their grip firm. Your brain almost short circuits, realizing how much larger their hand is to yours. You say your name, and they repeat it. 

 

"It's nice to meet you!" They say, shaking your hand once more before letting it go.

"Sloane is a really pretty name." You state, trying to make conversation. Totally, 100% not flirting with them, of course.

"Awe shucks, you think so? Well I like yours too." They shoot back, their cheerful glow never dropping. They look over, and you do the same. You see them eyeing the table they came from. It appears someone stole their seat. 

"Oh, I'm sorry." You immediately apologize, feeling bad that their place was taken while talking to you. They shake their head and huff a little laugh, their curly hair bouncing. 

"Why're you sorry? Don't be. Plus, it's no biggie." They say nonchalantly, genuinely unphased. They crack a smile and lean forward, as if they're sharing a secret. "Don't worry, I'll get back at them." They whisper, a mischievous gleam in their eyes.

You giggle, and pull back a little. "What're you gonna do huh?"

They pull an inquisitive face, staring up at the ceiling almost performatively. "I dunno! Maybe I'll put confetti in all of their tents!" They announce, toying with the idea. You couldn't tell if they're serious or not. 

"You probably shouldn't do that." You jokingly warn, thinking abt how much of a pain confetti would be to get out of a tent. Much less the sleeping bags. 

Sloane grins, shining that gorgeous smile again. They seem to be the happiest person in the world. "Well, that's what they get for kicking me out of my own seat!"

You shake your head and let out a small chuckle, "You really are something."

They push you by the shoulder a bit, "I'm a great something I'll have you know." They joke, before settling back in their seat. 

Silence settles over the two of you for a bit, and it nearly becomes unbearable. That is until music begins to play. The lights towards the middle of the room light up, and the rest are dimmed to create a spotlight effect. The happy couple's chosen song is playing, and you watch as they approach the center of the room, beginning to dance. You smile, and awe at the sight. Seeing your friend so happy and glowing was truly a treat.

Sloane also watches, they love parties and weddings. Seeing two people so in love is one of life's many treasures. They look over towards you and see you recording your friends dance, they allow a small smile creep onto their face. They admire your side profile and the way your hair compliments you perfectly. You are eye-catching, and the way you practically folded over a cupcake earlier was hilarious. They love funny things, so they've GOT to get to know you. Exploring is one of their favorite things after all. 

They settle back and turn their attention to the dance. Eventually the music begins to wind down, and one of the grooms leaves the dance floor. It's the parents' dance, they think. Now that it isn't your friend out there, you click off the record button and look over to Sloane.

"So, what brings you here?" You ask, making conversation with them. They turn their head to face you, their hands loosely clasped together on their lap. 

"I'm from the wayfinders society! The other groom, Rey, is my good friend." They chirp, pointing at your friends now husband. "Y’know, me and him got lost once in a cave! Scary stuff, didn't know if we'd make it out." They said dramatically, waggling their fingers in your direction. 

"You serious??" You furrow your brow, and lean forward incredulously. Their warm dark eyes look back to their friend, and they nod. "Yeah, it was a couple years ago. We lost sight of our team, and couldn't find our way out. I ended up drilling us a new exit. Real risky doing that but we didn't have a choice." Sloane recounts, "Could've been worse!" They add, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"That's crazy, I could never do anything like that." You tap your foot against the ground, even thinking about that type of stuff gets you wound up.

They turn back to you with a hum and smile, "Well, you never know until you try! Exploring is the best thing I've ever done for myself, I love it. Seeing what the world was like before us… finding the rocks and gems the earth has made. It's real worth it." Their passion is evident, every word they speak has them glowing. You admit it's rather charming, seeing them so in love with their work. 

"Man, that's so cool." You state warmly. "You got a really cool job, Sloane. You got the job little kids dream of." 

They smile genuinely, really happy with the thought. "Well my abuela always said to follow your dreams, so I did. What about you? What's your dream?" They gently nudge your shoe with theirs.

"Hmmm, well. I guess I'm still trying to figure that out." You hum, looking at the ground. Your interests aren't nearly as exciting as theirs. Working one dead end job to the next, just trying to make ends meet. "Thinking tattooing, honestly." You add, looking up at them.

Sloane gasps, eyes widening. "That's so awesome though! I love tattoos, I've got at least four or five." They pull down the collar of their button down to reveal more of the flames tattooed across their neck. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't already noticed it. Wanting to see how far down it goes.

Quickly, you bat those thoughts away. Sticking to complimenting the line work and blocking of their tattoo. You ask what others they've got, and they explain all the patchwork they've got done on their arms. Some historical, some cool, some just to have a piece of the places they've been. They even mention a larger one on their thigh, a dinosaur skull with flowers. You try not to sound too interested in seeing them while asking if they have pictures. 

The conversation between you and Sloane runs smoothly, chattering about your lives and cracking jokes at one another's expense. The dancing at the party is now in full swing, guests of all types littering the dance floor. It's now completely dark outside, save for the lighting inside the venue. The lamps hanging from the ceiling are dimly glowing, the lanterns now back to their full glow. You even spot fireflies outside the venue, blinking on and off, flying into the wedding space and out. The place is truly beautiful.

The strumming of a bass fills the venue, an electronic guitar complimenting it perfectly. You recognize it instantly, as it's a song you've come to enjoy. Your new friend, Sloane, practically jumps out of their skin in excitement. They quickly whip their head to look at you while whisper shouting, "I love this song!!"

They bolt up, staring at the dance floor as both their feet hit the ground with a soft thud. They twirl their whole body around, looking at you with an outstretched hand, "Come dance with me??" They frantically blurt out.

You look dumbly at Sloane before slinking back into your chair a bit, cringing. "No no- I don't dance." While waving a hand in their direction dismissively. You're hesitant and it's obvious. The idea of getting in the middle of a bunch of people and dancing. God, not what you were made for.

You were telling the truth, you don't dance! Anyone seeing you attempt to dance may need an ambulance. Sloane slumps by your reaction, and pokes conversationally, "Aww c’monnn, pretty please? With cherries on top? One song?" They say, leaning backwards a bit on the heels of their feet while keeping their upper body forward. They begin pouting a lip out and sporting their best puppy dog eyes, hoping it'll help sway their case. 

Nervously, you rub your pointer finger across your thumb. This is not what I signed up for, you think as your lips form a line, eyes locking with Sloanes, trying to will yourself into saying no.

Damn.

You can't. You can't say no! You know you'd kick yourself later if you left without dancing with them. They're everything you like in someone, striking, funny, passionate... You internally groan, searching their dark eyes for a way out. Sadly, there isn't one. Their eyes only plead and beg.

And well... who are you to deny them?

Breathing in a deep, deep sigh, you fold, "Okayy. Okay." You say, holding both hands up, signaling defeat.

Sloane is about to shout out a glorious, loud YES before you cut them off with a finger up. "But first, a shot of liquid courage." You say, pushing yourself up from your chair, walking towards the end of the food table. There lay countless plastic shot glasses full of vodka. You pluck one from the rim of the platter.

Sloane watches as you down the drink, admiring the way your throat moves to swallow. They snort when they see you pulling a face.

"C'mon- c'mon- the song is already going." They bounce, having to fight the urge to just drag you onto the dance floor themself. Shaking your head, you wipe away the grimace on your face and discard the tiny shot glass into the nearby garbage.

They grab your hand and pull you into the crowd, though they seem somewhat aware of your aversion to it. So they lead you towards a less populated end of the floor, despite this, nearly everyone at the wedding was dancing. So you were still around a decent amount of people. They smile wide, looking off into the gaggle of party goers. You find it ironic this is the song you're dancing to, the lyrics playing loudly.

We've got nowhere to go

We've got nothing to prove

Instead of dancing alone

I should be dancing with you

The lyrics are slightly erotic, even, but you don't have much time to ponder it when they turn back to face you. They release your hand, before snapping their fingers in tune with the beat and swaying their hips. You giggle, your cheeks and stomach buzzing from the alcohol. Unfortunately for Sloane, you do not know how to dance. Not well at least, they laugh, watching you sway awkwardly. "You don't dance do you?" They ask, almost having to shout to be heard over the clamor of people and music.

"No, not really!" You reply, before admitting, "I don't wanna look dumb!" 

"Look dumb?! I'll show you dumb." They jest, backing up a bit to give themself some space. With their eyes locked onto yours, they bend their knees while bringing their right hand towards their head, palm open. They're walking towards you sideways, left hand swiping back and forth to their side and front. You about shit yourself, recoiling in shock and laughing. They continue though, bringing both hands up in fists towards their head, pumping them as they shake their hips, still approaching you. 

"What are you doing!!" You shout, cracking up at their absurdity. They finally pivot fully towards you, bending forward and moving their hands in circles. They finish off their charade with a performative strut your way, palms open in a dramatic walk. 

They laugh, grabbing one of your hands and pulling you further into the floor. "I'm dancing!! You should try it sometime!" They jive, sticking their tongue out. "I'm just saying, no one can look sillier than me!" You roll your eyes and shake your head. The smile never leaving your face.

They grab your other hand and start dancing for you, swaying you side to side. You can't help but giggle, letting them have their fun. You sway your hips and release their hands, moving yours back, snapping your fingers while doing circles and stepping side to side. Their grin widens and they yell, "Hell yeah! get it!!" Encouraging you. 

Smiling big, you continue attempting to dance with them. Sloane closes their eyes and lets themself feel the music, they move their feet expertly, and their arm movements intentionally. Seeing this makes you realize they definitely know how to dance. Your eyes explore them, their body and the way they move. It feels dirty watching them like this…But they invited you to dance, you think maybe they want you to watch them. Enjoy them, drink them up. 

It feels as though they've already wrapped you around their finger. You feel sadness bubble that the song is already ending. Luckily the next song that plays doesn't disappoint, more bass-y than the last. This one still just as popular as the day it released. 

You let yourself loosen, swaying your full body in rhythm with the bass as the song goes on. Sloane is looking at you again, and you daringly strut around them, stepping in beat with the drums. Alcohol does wonders for self esteem. They wait for you to come back around before stepping close, pulling you in by the hand. You raise an eyebrow, checking them with a grin, before gleefully walking back, shuffling your feet in tune with the music then pulling them towards you. They follow excitedly, their foot work impressive as they step towards you. They raise your held hand up as they approach and you twirl around to face them once more. Confidence runs through you at this point, letting go of the hand above you. You bring your free hand up quickly, placing it on their chest before grabbing their opposite hand. They're grinning so hard, pulling back, until your arms are taunt. Then jerking you towards them, you turn so your back hits their chest. Sloane has one hand around your front, hugging you just beneath your chest. The other holding your hip, their head resting next to yours. You both just sway now, enjoying each other's company and the music. "This okay?" They ask in your ear, the tone in their voice dropping low.

"Huh?" You say loudly, turning to face them. 

"I asked if this is okay!" They announced a little louder, and closer to your ear.

"Yeah!" You affirm happily, like this is the best day of your life. 

Do I wanna know?

If these feelings flow both ways.

Sad to see you go.

Sorta hoping that you'd stay.

Baby we both know.

That the nights were mainly made for sayin' things.

That you can't say tomorrow day.

Dancing with them like this, swaying side to side feels almost romantic. And you're having a really hard time ignoring that fact. That coupled with your already burning attraction has you dizzy. You could stay here forever. Another song passes by, and you both continue dancing with one another. At one point, you fumble through a waltz before they twirl and dip you. Despite having the time of your life, exhaustion was quickly catching up. Feeling a bit hot, and tired, holding both their hands, you turn around.

Looking up at Sloane, you truly get to admire their beauty. They've got beautiful curls, swooping and gentle. Their hair is natural, soft looking, and when you danced you could even smell their shampoo. Their eyes are a deep brown, rich like the dirt they so love digging through. You finally notice their eyebrow piercing as well, and you bite your lip. It suits them. You think. 

The longer you analyze their features, you wonder how the hell they're even real. How someone could look as perfect as them, be as charming as them. It nearly drives you mad. They smile a little, their eyes darting away. Their flushed cheeks grow a little redder at your prolonged staring. You smile a little, this is the first time you've seen them at least a little bashful. It's adorable.

The music is playing quietly now, seeing as most of the guests vacated the dance floor. Only a few stragglers are left, you included. So now you can properly talk to them.

"You know earlier... I wasn't exactly looking at the cupcakes…” You purse your lips, and squint your eyes, as if to will yourself to get the words out.

“I was staring at you." You chew your lip, looking away shyly. This confession could make or break this… whatever this is. You certainly don't wanna break it. While nervous, you had a feeling they would respond positively.

Their eyes snap back towards you, and they let themself smile, raising an eyebrow. "Ohhh, I'm that pretty, huh?" They tease.

You sigh and roll your eyes, they really are such a bastard. "Yeah yeah, whatever." You mutter, playfully pushing their shoulder. Not risking stroking their ego any further.

"No no, tell me, was it the bowtie?" They snicker, pushing their chest out a bit to really show it off. 

You shake your head, running your hands up from their own and readjusting their accessory. “Yes, it was the bowtie, all I wanted was you, bowtie.” You whisper at their chest, pulling the sides of the bow.

“Psh,” They chuckle, “Okay for real! What was it, huh?” They say, flashing their signature grin while raising their eyebrows suggestively. Perhaps telling them was a bad idea, you purse your lips again, realizing they'll bother you forever until you tell them. It seems like they're DYING to know.

You hum, dropping your head onto their chest. With one hand still on their chest, you let your other trail down their arm before grasping theirs, bringing it up towards you. Flipping it palm up, you let your free hand lightly touch their palm. "Your hands, I like them. I was looking at them." Dragging your fingers along their palm, you feel every callous and rough patch of skin. You turn them over to admire their nail polish and knuckles. You even start to massage in-between their fingers, just soaking up the fact that you can touch them like this, and they're allowing you to.

They seem to be at a loss for words, and you figure that doesn't happen too often. Smiling, you walk your fingers up their arm and to their shoulder to rest it there, bringing your other arm up to mirror it. Their hands come up to your waist and bring you close. While enjoying the embrace, you weren't expecting them to shake you and hug you in tightly. They groan into your shoulder, as if frustrated. You puff out a laugh at their weirdness. 

"Sorry- you're just so cute." They say, pulling back. "I just met you and you already got me in stitches." They admit, kicking the dirt by your feet. You figure instant attraction to a stranger is just as new to you as it is to them.

"Well..." You start, not even sure what to say. "We can… go back to my room? I'm staying at a hotel nearby. We can hang out, talk...see where it takes us?" Your voice raises at the end of your sentence, as if a little worried they'll say no. That's another lie, you were a LOT worried they'll say no, denying you any more of their time.

Your anxiety is evident as your eyes search their face for a clue, a glimmer of what they might say. Of what they could be thinking. 

Sloane looks at you with tenderness. Such sweetness you could melt. They bring a hand up to cup the side of your face, rubbing their thumb across it. "I'd like that." They say, their voice seems to tighten as if they're both excited and nervous about the proposition.

Yeah, usually parties suck. But this one? This one was amazing.

[teacakeezz]

Since I’m posting Venture on here, have some sketches I made a few weeks ago lol

[husbandohoarder]

The priest marrying me off: I now pronounce you man and (glances over at the ensemble of men standing in line to kiss me) … Overwatch

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Coupling

Rating: Explicit | Warnings: None

art by @/JackThePeeper on tumblr and twt | Ao3 crosspost

“Come now, human. Make yourself useful.”

It is no surprise he takes control of the situation by commanding you. Orders are easy to give, easy to follow, they do not require you to think as all thinking is done for you. This he knows you will appreciate given the situation.

This arrangement has been weeks in planning; though on his side he spent months gathering the necessary information for this. It is only natural for a human to want intimacy, it is a basic need that can range from mental to physical connections. Ramattra is aware that you are discovering these needs, learning about yourself beyond the armor your consciousness can connect to. You know only of metal, killing, and the code that binds you to honor.

You find comfort in compliance, in how you knee between his open warming legs, your hands lacking experience as you take his cock and grasp it. It obviously is modeled after a silicone dildo, you are fascinated by the attention to detail to be pleasurable to the person receiving insertion... Will he enjoy this too?

“Gentle, this is no sword to wield.” His even tone keeps you from acting out of your character. You do not shy away yet you want to as you lack skill in this field.

“One hand will be enough. The rest you will use your mouth.”

Orders. You follow them to the letter as you use your mouth to take in what you can, pushing yourself to take more even when it makes tears build up at the corner of your eyes, your hand moving up and down.

“You have no practice with this sort of task.” Ramattra is not saying it as an insult but rather an observation, it is no surprise. Ramattra has never coupled with a human, the few videos he watched with omnic and human enacting sexual actions were… Limited. He has to guess the rest and create the purple silicone cock. It is optional for both himself and you, though seeing you struggle to take over half of it makes him consider reducing its size.

“Does it feel good for you?” You ask while gathering your breath. You heard the pick up of his fans, the static of his voice module as you believed he groaned, but you had to be sure.

“It does. You require practice but this is enough to lubricant me.”

You nod as you stand up and undress. There is nothing sexy about how you undress, it is only efficient and carefully folded on the floor. Ramattra can see the many scars, some old and some new, it is a reminder you know nothing but suffering. Forced to be a soldier and then tossed away when there was no use for you. Ramattra knows well your mannerisms in the years you have been around him, though you stand before him bare and at attention as if for inspiration, your eyes are looking away as his fingers touch your scars. He had caused some of these when the two of you were enemies— Strange how you told him you did not see him as an enemy but an opponent as enemies implies an emotional component. You held no hate towards him, you found yourself more often agreeing with him.

“I apologize for not maintaining a more desirable skin.”

“This is desirable, (Name).” Ramattra is quick to tell you. “Do you enjoy this?”

You nod slowly as one hand, his thumb, rubbing and flicking your nipple, “... May you… Hold me?” Being touched is… Different. You are not sure if you want to stop or keep coming, but you know you need him to hold you. Ramattra stops to allow you to join him on the bed with your back against his chest, his cock rubbing your ass. “Continue.” Soft, nervous, your hands grip his thighs as he guides you to open your legs. It is strange the vulnerability of this, it has your heart racing yet the way Ramattra touches you with extreme care as if you are made of glass makes you feel… Loved.

Weapon to weapon, he had thought you to be a new type of omnic made to fight for human masters. One that bled, a semi-organic robot. No, your warframe is part of you, the way a sword is viewed as an extension of the wielder. Using what is called Transference to dream of not what you are but what you can be. A weapon forged from childhood, forced to slumber and dream of killing.

There is a saying ‘Misery loves company’, Ramattra found the shared misery a comfort and you used it to build a bridge between him and you.

Your moans are not loud, they are breathless and pitchy at times but not loud. The stickiness between your legs as you shiver as he keeps going until you are struggling to handle the force of your orgasm. It is like a storm wrecking everything in its path, Ramattra delights in the display as he guides you through it until you slump against him looking completely ruined.

There is more to be done, more to explore and experience, you feel on fire and eager with newfound fascination. You appreciate Ramattra's patience and how he turns you around to face him, he is careful and yet makes sure not to be so gentle you will complain. You groan when his hold is firm, you tell him while high on endorphins that you want his mark all over you. You kiss his face plate, grip the back of his shoulders, bottom lifted as he positions you. His fingers did well in preparing you, he made sure to research human anatomy just for you and how to make a first-time experience pleasant, there is no pain though there is the oddness of being filled in a unique manner.

Is this what it means to be connected? To find the matching piece of your soul? You might cry if you continue thinking about it, you tell him to move with clear fascination in your voice. The wonderment of being made for another, you feel made for Ramattra. It is an honor adding to the pleasure shared, your voice louder inspiring him to lay you down on your back.

“Ramattra,” His hand pinning both your wrists above your head, “More, Stars, more.” You want every inch of him a part of you, if possible to link with him using the Transference— Yet you know doing so is impossible and invasive for him, you would not mind him within your mind.

The pace is faster, metal on flesh, the ambiance of his fans and voice along with your rising voice and skin is something you envy him to be able to record. To capture everything with accuracy rather than emotional alterations, you do not want to forget. You want to do this every day until it is imprinted onto your very being.

You do not last long, you take note to work on that, as your orgasm has you writhing and calling out the only being that matters in this moment. Ramattra takes a bit longer as he has gone through every possible outcome and adjusted to adapt to be satisfying in bed. Oh, he is proud of himself to have you a mess under him, other positions taken to see how far he can go until your mind is broken. His systems are quick to regulate as your body starts building up the bioelectricity, without your Volt frame you could burn the bed. Ramattra can handle the low-grade shock but the bed cannot. He eases you to calm down, to grip him as he has you now laying on your side facing him with your leg hooked over his waist.

The warning message, static, your spark is edging him to an end he is trying to avoid, he wants to prolong this for a moment longer. But he is not given it as your third release has both you and him fall to darkness.

You wake in another room staring out a window overlooking a city then realize you are in your warframe in the workshop. It is embarrassing that you blackout so hard you are linked to your frame. It is not hard to go back to your physical body, which is done after placing the warframe in a meditation pose, you are just flustered.

Waking yourself back in your physical body and being heavily aware of the position has you sore primarily in your legs. Not to mention the synthetic cum inside of you is dipping out of you as Ramattra's cock returns to its sheathe. You hate having to move as you find this like moving after an intense sparring sensation with Genji. You at least can say you feel happy, you hope Ramattra does too or at least relaxed. Moving his body is rather humorous as he had shut down completely, yet it is emotional as he is completely vulnerable. You sit on the bed watching his body start to reboot, eyes following the sounds of his systems then at his face plate as the lights on his head glow then his optics making sounds of adjustments.

“(Name).” Seeing you watching and then smiling at him.

“Are you well?”

“A question I should be asking you,” He remains lying down as his body needs to do a scan after your electrical shock and orgasm have overloaded him. “I will be fine in a moment.”

“I am well,” Then you shake your head realizing that was very formal sounding, “I enjoyed it.”

“As did I.”

“It would probably be best to do this with the frame next time to reduce likely short circuits.”

Silence then Ramattra speaks up, “Your frame has the capability to—”

“No! Uh… Not at first… I modified it in case you would find our coupling more…Pleasurable that way.”

Ramattra had not thought to use your warframe given the way you used it only for combat, a mindset for battle you slip into. Here he had made his anatomical adjustments and so did you. “Only if you wish to do so. This however is preferable.” His hand comes up to cup the side of your face that you tilt your head towards with appreciation.

[sshadowritestoriess]

hihi!! Ty for answering my question lol 🫶 I was wondering if you could do nsfw hcs for ramattra, zen, and genji? gn afab if possible 🫰

Sure thing here’s some general hcs of mine!

Ramattra NSFW

He’s absolutely demisexual, probably even leaning on ace. Sex just isn’t something he thinks about or craves until there’s a very specific moment with someone he trusts that would make him consider it

He’d be entirely and completely shocked that a human would find attraction to him in that way. Cue this ravager being absolutely floored by the idea that he had somehow aroused someone just by existing

For your first time, he probably asked a couple hundred questions before either of you ended up doing anything

You’re certain? With him? What had he done to elicit this response? It’s not just an odd attraction to omnics in general? This really isn’t some twisted joke? What makes you believe he’d be a sufficient partner? You understand he can’t actually make anything of this, and that this would merely be for the sake of pleasure? What do you imagine him doing? You’re not afraid? What if he hurt you? Wait— you want him to do what to you—?!

He indulges your urges for the sake of his curiosity, and entertainment. While he would have a complete understanding of how the act of procreation works, he’d still have no clue what he’s doing. But to hell if he would admit that— he’s a very fast learner, after all

Zero performance anxiety despite his level of expertise. You hungered for him once, before ever knowing what he was capable of, and he had confidence that he could make sure you’d feel just as starved for him once again

He would find having control of your body’s reactions the most exciting part of this. He likes roaming his hands around you, feeling you up and watching you lean into his touch and make noises that encourage him to continue

He makes noises reminiscent to a purr when he’s satisfied with something.

But it’s also conflicting, learning to be gentle in this kind of setting. Everything else he’s ever done came with a roughness he was used to, always needing to exert some amount of strength. He fought humans, he’d never had to please one

So sex is rather more a form of play for him, and you his toy. He is more than capable of experiencing pleasure, and he doesn’t dislike it— but he prefers to see how quickly he can get you to come undone

Or, test how long you can last.

He’ll try to kiss you. A gentle pulse from his faceplate into your cheek or neck, that somewhat tickles and surprises you. And he’d do it again to hear your laugh while he curls his fingers in you

And he enjoys partaking in your kinks, if you have the confidence to share them. He wouldn’t be so against giving some things a try, and would find some that truly do enhance the experience for him as well

Anything that’s done to him would have to be earned with trust, however. Especially something like wireplay— delicate parts of himself that could cause uncomfortable damage if handled carelessly. You’d have to build up a lot of faith in order to get the sweet reward of his startled whimpers whenever you tug on such an intricate system

His orgasm is a slow system override that causes his entire body to go tense. Everything in him strains at once, overheating, and a low growl emits from his vocalizer for the few seconds it takes his form to practically attack itself with a harsh reset. He tends to grab tight to something as it happens, to the point of shaking as he fights against powering off, fans as loud as ever. And then he’ll relax, a huge sigh will leave him, and the small vents in his back will release hot air that got trapped in his chassis.

But now and again he may end up too overwhelmed that he is unable to remain conscious, and he will black out for a moment before restarting. He was just not built to endure these kinds of sensations, but that didn’t make the experience any less fun for him

Overall he does this mostly for you, more than he would for himself. He has pride that you would want for him in this way, and he has little reason to refuse it

Zenyatta NSFW

He’s not the best with implications, so you’d have to be pretty straightforward when you ask

And you’d be shocked, every time, to hear him calmly accept the invitation as if you’d merely asked him out for lunch.

Before you, he hadn’t met anyone who wanted to try such an activity with him before. He was very curious how this would go— then you’d find yourself bashful when he asks when and where like you were organizing a meeting: “Do you have a preferred time or place?”

Then when you both would meet, he would ask patiently, “Where do we begin?”

When he removes his clothes, he folds them neatly to the side— though with an efficient quickness that is typically unlike him

If you have him undress you, he does so in the same way he would for himself. Any buttons are carefully undone, zippers are slowly dealt with, and he’d ask so kindly for you to raise your arms when he lifts your top up over your head

Absolutely a service top. He has a preference to be told what you want and are feeling up to, and he will carry out these commands thoroughly

A hand will occasionally stray to where he wants it, though, if one of them isn’t too busy. This could either be him touching you or himself, depending on how far along you both are

He likes when you sit on top of him, so he can see everything that’s going on. His astral hands sometimes ghost around your form to enhance what ministrations he’s doing, or better keep you in place

But if you’re feeling a preference to top, he’s nothing short of eager to let you take full control of everything. He has complete trust in you that you wouldn’t do anything to harm him while vulnerable like this

He’s very verbal. He explained once, something about vocal release allowing for focus on another sense, or whatever. But regardless, he made some heavenly sounds when you would touch him

You knew how collected Zenyatta always was, so it was ethereal when you’d make him break character for a moment— whether that be something as little as hearing him cuss, or as great as making him lose his patience

And the latter was rare. There is a lot the monk can endure, seemingly without a breaking point. So in the event that he has been ‘fed up’, truly he just understood you wanted to get a rise out of him. So he would oblige, and turn things around for your amusement. Though he absolutely could have gone longer, he would not wish to bore you

He never marked you, he was always careful. Even if you asked him to be more rough, he wasn’t very interested in causing pain— but he would try, if it’s what you truly wanted.

He likes being surprised. Catching him off guard always gets a good noise out of him

But he also likes to take things slowly, as well. Truly relish in all the feelings and converse about what’s on your mind while he takes you— or while you coax him in

The first time he had orgasmed actually startled you— a brief flash of light emitted from his body that quickly vanished when he crossed his arms over his chest, arching into a loud moan, like he was trying to keep something in. It was quick, and he’d collapse again with heavy breaths, apologizing quickly for having scared you

And this happens just about every time. If you told him not to hold back, he would refuse— his astral form would only mitigate the build-up and he would be left without release

But he also really enjoys aftercare; putting you both back together. He likes rubbing your back after cleaning up the mess, and remains sat beside you until you’re ready to get up again— or sleep.

He loves basking in the afterglow with you, and sometimes he’ll also fall asleep. Even more rarely, he’ll fall asleep before you— but then you’d end up waking to having a meal in bed that he would have prepared just for you

Genji NSFW

He has scarcely had (if any at all) intimate moments with anyone ever since he was made anew. It’s just hard for him

As much as he’s come to terms with his body, there’s still some essence of repulsion that remains— it’s unnatural, this combination of metal and flesh. He finds it difficult to really be engaged with that kind of stuff anymore

He also just assumed no one would be interested, so he never initiated. You would kinda have to bring it up first, and probably even convince him that you’re serious

Genji would be very eager despite the distaste has for his body, though try to hide how ecstatic he is about someone wanting him the way he is anyways. Just another little nudge forward that made him feel better about himself

Even if it might have been awhile, he never lost his touch. You would find his hands as skillful with your body as he was with a blade, years of training guiding the ministrations that would make your legs tremble

He knows just where all the right spots are, and he’ll prod at them with vigor. He’ll have you come undone before he gets even gets a chance to please himself as well

He’ll keep his helmet on unless you ask to see him, and he’ll make you promise to have him put it back on if you feel at all put off by his appearance

But if you take his visor and put it on yourself, he would find it very difficult not to suddenly ravish you and cum as soon as possible

He would eat at your neck like a starved animal, biting a little too hard— but not long enough to earn a complaint. He’d suck and kiss at your skin fervently, leaving loving bruises in his wake to make sure you wouldn’t forget where he’s been

And god does he make a lot of noises. He’s very whiney, if it had to be described; drags of his breath eliciting quiet pulls of his voice in very whimper-like sounds. He could not keep quiet

Even when he ate you out, he was practically murmuring his gratitude around a mouthful of your sex as if this were the last thing he’d ever eat

He would be very passionate to give you as good of a time as he could possibly show, leaving no room for any disappointment. Faster? You got it. Touch here? Of course. You want to ride him? By all means.

He’s the quick and intense sort, but his libido would come racing back so he could go quite a few rounds. His stamina far outmatched yours

And after you’re done he would kiss your hands and thank you, then offer to run a bath for you. (With hope that you would invite him to join you, so he’d have further opportunity to tend to whatever tensions still lie beneath your skin)