#overwatch skin rating

[ugh-yoongi]

Soft, romantic and drunk bf Yoongi waking you up by going down on you when he gets in late after a night of drink (with OT7/ after suchwita/ whatever) in which he could not stop thinking about you and your pussy.

I can even give inspo: tu mbl r.co m/poutyniall/714256286018142208/tongue-technology

yeah hey hi hello thanks for sending this. after only receiving PG requests this really sent me into a spiral.

crescendo

pairing: yoongi x reader (no pronouns used, but gendered terms are used for genitalia) genre: established relationship au; smut, fluff warnings: alcohol, swearing, yoongi is tipsy and just a horny pining disaster, previously discussed and consenting somnophilia, oral sex, unedited. rating: explicit. minors do not interact. wordcount: 1k listen to: middle of the night by elley duhé

Amongst his group of friends, Yoongi is the only one who gets like this when he’s drunk.

Some people regress and act half their age (Seokjn). Some people are overly-affectionate and stumble over compliments (Jimin). Some people try to pick philosophical debates over the point at which bread ceases to be bread and becomes toast (Namjoon). Some people bypass the philosophical entirely and go straight to the conspiratorial (Taehyung). Some people take one sip and slump over in the booth, moaning that they’re half-dead (Hoseok). Finally, some people don’t even bother to show up, because they’re too busy staying home and playing Overwatch to check their texts (Jungkook).

Yoongi, though—Yoongi gets horny.

The kind of horny that has him looking away each time someone’s tongue darts out to catch a stray drop of alcohol. The kind of horny that has him doing complex mathematical equations in his head to determine if he could conceivably lock himself in a bathroom stall and get it out of his system before anyone becomes suspicious. The kind of horny that has him sending you half-legible text messages under the table, detailing every dirty thing he wants to do to you, despite the fact you told him hours ago you were going to shower and go to sleep.

Fuck. He needs to get out of here.

“Aw, look at Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin teases, and everyone except Hoseok creates a chorus of laughter. Yoongi’s cheeks burn, made worse by the garish yellow-red lights of this bar. “I can’t decide if I should be jealous or concerned.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Why would you be concerned, Jimin-ah? Sex is a normal, beautiful thing, and it’s absolute bullshit that people use it as a point of shame—”

“Yeah, okay, that’s my cue,” Seokjin says around a fake gag. “Who had the tab tonight? Just send me a request—”

“You had the tab, you fucker—”

Seokjin hears none of it. Just says, “Mm, bye,” and then he’s gone. Which is Yoongi’s cue too, because he’s the second-oldest and therefore second in command, and the rest of them won’t even hesitate to stick him with the bill because it happens every single time it’s Seokjin’s turn to pay.

So he lies. Says, “Hyung will pay it in a minute. Gotta piss first,” and stumbles out the back.

He’ll hear about it later, if not from his four dongsaengs then certainly his ancestors, but he needs to be home. Needs to feel you spread out beneath him—your sleep-warmed skin, still soft from your shower, the scent of your body wash stubbornly clinging on. Needs to press his lips to every inch of it. Needs the smell and taste of you overwhelming him. Needs to hear all those little sounds you make.

The longer this taxi ride drags on, the more paranoid he becomes. Can the driver tell how fucked up he is in his backseat? Can he see the way Yoongi’s fingers are gripping the worn leather? How desperately he’s trying to keep quiet every time something explicit plays in his memory? He’d understand, Yoongi thinks; he’d understand if he knew you, saw you. He wouldn’t be able to blame Yoongi at all.

Seoul passes by in a blur, all neon reds and blues and whites. Everything is still so alive, even at this god-forsaken hour, and it makes him dizzy. Has his head spinning. He’s drunk and he’s horny and he just wants to be next to you.

Somehow, he manages to dig his phone out of his pocket despite how tight they’ve grown over the last hour. Goes straight to his texts, pointedly ignores all the ones in the groupchat yelling at him and Seokjin, and presses on your name. He’s less drunk now than he was before, but the messages still don’t make sense. Yoongi groans, throws his head back against the seat. Next time he’s just going to skip the bullshit and send you pictures. No use speaking in tongues when hieroglyphics could work much better.

The next five minutes play out like this: the taxi stops outside your building, Yoongi hands over a stack of money that’s undoubtedly too thick, he stumbles up the steps two at a time, so close yet still too far away.

And then there’s the door.

“This okay, baby?”

A nip of teeth at the junction of your thigh. Hands gripping at your waist, fingers dimpling your skin. Warm breath ghosting over your wet cunt. Yoongi’s head between your thighs as he kneels on the bed. You’re unsure if you’re conscious or not, but as you tangle your hands in Yoongi’s soft hair, you decide it doesn’t matter.

So you nod, angle your hips closer to Yoongi’s face. A whisper-soft gasp when he presses a kiss to your thigh, one to your clit; a strangled moan when you feel him smile against you before flattening his tongue and licking a stripe up your slit.

“Fuck,” he groans, doing it again, pulling away only long enough to say, “thought about this pussy all fucking night. You taste so good.”

Yoongi indulges in your body the way other people indulge in vices: incessantly, obsessively. But you aren’t a vice, are you? You’re not something to be ashamed of; not something wicked. As Yoongi continues working you over with his mouth, so sloppy and overeager you can feel it dampening the sheets beneath you, it feels like reverence.

It isn’t long before the heat starts simmering in your belly. Not long before everything starts feeling overwhelming; before your visions starts blurring at the edges. “Yoong, I’m—”

He hums against your core. Sucks hard once at your clit, and then you’re tumbling over the edge. “Goddamn, I love you,” Yoongi says into your skin. “That’s it, give it to me, baby, I love you.”

It feels predestined.

[carmensbrain]

Hello! Can you do female reader x Hanzo fluff <3 maybe a first kiss kind of thing hehe.

Ahhhhh my wife!! (≧∇≦)

I love writing about shut off people opening up (me fr)🎀

Contains- fluff, tooth rotting fluff even (˶˘ ³˘(´͈ ᵕ `͈˶) but also… ANGST ARGGGG!

Rating- E for every brain!

Warnings- none

Authors notes- the reader is in overwatch btw!

Fic starts below cut!

♡ Hanzo has never been one for love like Genji was. He watched him live his numerous teen romances from afar, a yearning feeling resting in his soul as he grew older.

♡ Upon meeting you he begun feeling different, his hard shelled exterior faltering when you smiled, laughed, spoke, or even looked his way. He pushed the warmth that brushed across his cheeks down in order to focus on his missions, that’s what he told himself at least.

♡ He wanted to shut you out, push you as far away as possible to keep you safe, it was all for you. He didn’t want to burden you with the weight of his sins, his mistakes, his grief.

♡ Despite his frigid exterior you pushed on, pulling him closer whenever he pushed away. He felt angry with you at one point, condemning you for your stubbornness.

“Why must you be so persistent? I do not want you to worry yourself with my heart.”

He asked, voice echoing throughout the empty training facility. He glared at you from afar, heart aching as he spoke. He wanted to let you in, to let himself become soft, to let himself breathe, but he felt undeserving of that privilege.

In his eyes he was a monster, a body that only knew violence, a soul that couldn’t be mended.

He didn’t care to hear your response, he wouldn’t have believed what you said anyway, he left the facility with heavy steps. You managed to catch up with him as he left the locker room, hand grasping his tightly as you begged him to listen to you for a moment.

“Please… just let me show you what love can be”

You pleaded, hands cupping his. Your soft skin was warm against his calloused palms. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, his gaze locked into the floor.

“I can’t do this to you, please give me up. You will only get hurt”

He said sternly, subtly pulling his hands from yours with the chill on his skin returning. He just wanted you to walk away, to leave him to be long like he deserved, but you wouldn’t let him go, not this time.

Placing a hand on his cheek, facial hair pricking the smooth surface of your fingers, you turned his head to face you. Your gentleness sent aching pains into his chest, cracking at his exterior like you did every moment he saw you.

“Please just leave…”

He pleads, leaning into your touch while he begged for it to cease. The way you looked at him, the way your gentleness never wavered even when he treated you like a nuisance, the way you didn’t give up on him, it all was far too much.

Tears prickled at his eyes as he found your gaze. He saw only love in your eyes, a passion that burned through the metal cage he built to keep everyone out.

“You know I won’t do that Hanzo..”

You whispered, leaning closer to show you ment it, forehead pressing against his while a familiar heat fell over his cheeks, he welcomed it this time.

Silently he tilted his head so his lips could meet yours, experimental and scared as you reciprocated him. He could’ve sworn that he was dreaming, that this would all fade away and he’d be alone again but it was your touch that reminded him that this was real, that he was real, that he was a human, that he could be loved.

[edensdahlia]

༊*·˚ Until I Say So

CHARACTERS: John Price x M! Reader (F! Reader here)

RATING: NSFW

CONTENTS: Military reader, canon typical violence, Price thinks reader needs a little extra training after they get compromised during a mission, may be inaccuracies in the fighting, porn with plot because I can’t write it without, established relationship, relationship with a superior <3, sparring as foreplay, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, voyeurism (?), multiple orgasms, nicknames used: muppet, darling, love

ೃ⁀➷ WORD COUNT: 2K

“--How copy?” Price’s voice crackled through the comms, rough in all the right places and with just the slightest bit of worry buried deep beneath his impassive tone. It couldn’t be helped, worrying about you came naturally to him, like donning a second skin he couldn’t seem to shed no matter how hard he tried. He really did try. In his line of work, he couldn’t afford to worry, it was a distraction when he needed to be anything but. Distractions could cost a life.

Subconsciously, Price tightened the grip he had on his rifle, trying to convince himself the sudden tension in his body was from the mission itself and not you. Although he really shouldn’t have been tense over that either. The operation was a simple two-person job with him acting as overwatch while you mapped out the interior of a warehouse suspected to be owned by a high-profile cartel. During debriefing Laswell had confirmed that the warehouse would be empty until the following week when shipments would first start arriving.

Meaning it should have been an easy in and out. Childs play really, and yet the silence seemed to stretch eons as he continued to scan the windows of the warehouse, searching for any sign of movement. For any sign of you. The sound of static filtered through the air, startling him, and then your voice came through, low and slightly breathy.

“All good so far Captain. Warehouse appears empty.”

Your voice was like a shot of comfort directly to his nervous system. The tension in his body seemed to fade. His grip slackened but remained steady as he continued searching the windows. “Good. Map the layout and get out. Quickly yeah?” There was the sound of static again and then your hushed laughter- more an exhale than an actual laugh.

“Sounds like you’re worried sir.”

He was. Of course, he was.

“Focus Sergeant.” It wasn’t a direct command but it had the same effect regardless. On the other side of the comms, you fell silent returning your attention back to the objective you’d been given. Eventually, finally, he caught sight of you, moving with the efficiency that had been drilled into you as a rookie.

Price watched as you dipped in and out of side rooms his heart seeming to still until you came back into the focus of his scope standing just in his line of sight. Your head was tilted up towards the window as if you could see him and the thought sent a secret thrill up his spine.

“All finished here sir, heading back your way.”

“Good work, Sergeant.” The praise fell from his lips easily. Like a secret only you were privy to. His words hung briefly between you two disappearing like mist on a summer day as something flashed behind you, a streak of silver turned a blinding white by the moonlight cast through the cracking windows. 

The warehouse was supposed to be empty.

The shadowy figure behind you crumpled to the ground, dead by the silent bullet Price had put through his brain. A moment too late. Just a moment. You looked up through the shattered glass one hand around your neck attempting to stop the blood that leaked through your shaking fingers.

♡ 。 。

Price loomed above you his legs bracketing your hips, keeping you pinned firmly to the floor in a position that was vaguely familiar. He smelled of cigar smoke and sweat, a combination you would have found comfort in had you not been wrestling with him for some semblance of control. You thrashed in his grip fists coming up to connect harshly against his chest. The force of it drew a small wheeze from him that morphed into a growl as he dug the blunt edge of a knife unceremoniously against your neck. It rested just above the jagged scar splitting your throat and when he pressed down just a bit more you felt the warning behind it, gaze finding his in defeat.

He shook his head at the look withdrawing from you, watching as you rolled over, panting from exertion and the vaguest hint of something else. Sweat collected near your hairline and dripped slowly down your nose leaving a dark stain on the mat below you.

“Get up muppet.” The words fell from him, in a harsh bark that had your mind dizzy with the possibilities of what else he could command you to do. Weakly, every bone in your body aching with the movement, you pulled yourself to your feet, stumbling slightly to the side.

“Can’t we take a break Captain?” You wiped the sweat from your brow with the edge of your shirt, the movement revealing a strip of scarred skin. His gaze flickered to it unthinkingly. “I just got dismissed from medical you know.” Your shirt dropped back in place and he frowned simultaneously at the loss of such a sight and your words.

“And why were you put there in the first place Sergeant?” Price challenged. You sighed through your nose and he took that as a sign of defeat gesturing with the plastic knife in a ‘come on’ motion. “Again.” His gaze remained steady on yours as you circled the mat together, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Taking initiative you lunged for him, your dominant hand swinging out in a messy hook. Price ducked easily beneath the arm you had thrown out, pivoting so he could slam his foot into the back of your knee. You crumpled to the ground hands coming out to catch you, but he dragged you back with his forearm secured around your chest and the knife flat against your throat.

“Compromised again Sergeant.” His voice was a whisper against the shell of your ear. “You’re getting sloppy.”

You squeezed your eyes tightly together trying to fight off the arousal you felt aching between your legs. It’d been there since he’d first walked through the training room doors wearing a compression shirt that showed everything off in just the right way and sweatpants that hung dangerously low. With each press of your bodies together- each struggle for control it’d only intensified turning into a burning heat you needed so desperately to satisfy.

“I’m tired.” You offered in weak defence. The hard muscle of his thigh sat temptingly between your legs and you slowly let yourself relax in his grip, allowing you to subtly grind against his leg.

“Tired eh?” Price brought his thigh up pressing harder into your semi-hard cock and drawing a whimper from your lips as you met him halfway. Maybe not so subtle then. The knife tumbled to the floor as he settled his hands on your hips helping assist in the slow grind of you against him. Your chin dropped towards your chest at the sensation, thighs burning with the effort of keeping you upright. Price slid a hand beneath your jaw forcing your head up and turning it towards him so he could bring your mouth to his in a heated kiss. It was lazy on your part, your body sluggish from the training you’d gone through, and when you pulled back your eyes remained half-lidded.

Price smiled at the look. “You truly are a sight for sore eyes darlin’.”

The compliment did nothing but fuel your desperation. You arched further into him, nose brushing the skin of his throat. “I need you.” It was a quiet plea. A beg for him to relieve you of your own painful arousal. His hand slid beneath the band of your sweatpants teasingly and you thought for a moment he just might, but his fingers skimmed across your clothed cock with barely-there touches.

“Now?” He applied the slightest bit of pressure and you squirmed, hips rocking against his hand desperately. “Where anyone could see you?” You nodded pathetically, grinding yourself downwards in search of something more but it wasn’t enough.

“Fuckin’ tease.” Price chuckled as he hauled you off his lap, repositioning you so you were laid out flat on your back. He slid your sweatpants and underwear down to your ankles, revealing more of you to his hungry gaze. Every inch of your skin was intoxicating, each scar and blemish stirring something in him.

His cock was heavy in his hands and unsurprisingly hard as he angled it against your entrance. You grabbed for the back of his neck nails scraping against the short hair there as he entered you. It wasn’t slow by any means and it burned with every inch he forced forward but it was good. So good. Your eyes fluttered closed nails digging into his scalp as he rocked against you. It was rough, needy almost. His fingers dug into your sides pulling you in, each thrust opening you further.

“I was worried about you.” Price confessed on a particularly hard thrust that had your eyes rolling back into your head. “Bloody bastard should have never touched you.” His voice was thick with emotion, a sound so rare it had your eyes blearily finding his.

“Wasn’t your fault-” You whined attempting to lift your head up but failing miserably as he fucked you harshly into the mat. Clumsily you sought out his hand squeezing it reassuringly, the touch the best you could offer when he was filling you so completely. Price seemed to understand though. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, his beard scraping against your skin.

“Won’t happen again yeah?”

There was a sureness to his words, a casual confidence that left no room for argument. Although- you certainly were in no position to argue as it was. Price somehow sensing your impending orgasm soothed a hand down your sweaty face, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled down at you. “Go on love, I know you’re close.” His words and the look on his face were horribly tender, a startling contrast to the way his hips snapped against yours, rough and without mercy.

Your legs tightened around his waist drawing him closer to you as you came. Price didn’t slow in the slightest bit. If anything he picked up in pace watching the way your eyes flew open. Overstimulation drew you up onto your forearms, one hand shooting out to steady yourself on his shoulder.

“John!”

He chuckled the sound lost in the skin of your neck. Each drag of his cock felt like heaven and hell all at once. The overstimulation was bringing you back up to that previous peak quicker than you could form the words for. It didn’t help either the way he continued to stroke your cock, drawing his thumb in lazy circles across the leaking tip and delighting at the pitiful sounds it drew from you. You were already hard again. Painfully so.

“You gonna come again, love?” You nodded chest heaving with the effort of drawing air into your poor lungs. Price nipped at the junction between your neck and shoulder smiling. “Good.” He continued rutting into you, the slick sounds of his hand around your cock obscene in the empty training room. At this point, you were halfway into his lap and each thrust imprinted the shape of his cock to your insides leaving you a stuttering mess of his name.

Exactly how he liked you.

Your second orgasm was stronger than the first and had you clenching around his cock almost painfully. Price cursed lowly slowing his thrusts to help draw it out, until you finally collapsed against him, legs twitching and breaths coming in short puffs. He lifted you slowly off him and you sighed in relief. His cock brushed against your stomach still leaking precum. Lazily you reached between your bodies intent on finishing him off with your hand but he swatted it away.

“On your stomach love. Ass up.”

The fucked out haze of your mind swirled curiously trying to process his words. You lifted your head searching his eyes in confusion. “Sir?” You asked voice shaky, looking every bit the fucked out mess you were.

Price couldn’t help the sick satisfaction he felt at being able to reduce you to such a state. “C’mon Sergeant,” He eased you up and then pushed you onto your stomach, your face pressed uncomfortably to the mat. “I’m not done with you yet.”

A/N: I’m honestly not too happy with how this turned out but it’s been sitting in my draft for like a month lmao. As always though thank you so much for taking the time to read this mess- have a lovely lovely day

[ultravioart]

Okay I will admit it, I am a hater.

Venture's VA narrated the Venture comic and botched Mauga's accent, butchered the pronunciation of πυξίς (pyxís said like peekSIS not PICKsis) and Iram. It's tonal and phonetic errors, not Venture's accent.

Where are the voice directors??? Why aren't words being checked if they are pronounced right? It's annoying enough that the Greek ruins were not researched (digging into cliffsides/under ruins in Greece is desecration/dangerous, Venture's drill would shatter terracotta artifacts, handling artifacts WITH BARE HANDS is a no-no, and a Westerner claiming 'no one is here to protect these Greek ruins, so I HAVE TO STEP UP' is such bs) but the pronunciations and accent butchering is just... the unprofessional cherry on top lol.

The VA was also very nsfw in a community that included minors (Overwatch isn't rated Mature, there are teens here. Such as interacting with streamers in a suggestive way even though those streamers have minors in the audience. If Overwatch was an adult series I wouldn't be complaining.) I get the VA is nsfw sometimes but READ THE ROOM. YOU are the adult here, CHOOSING to work on a T rated game that has a large online presence. Make a side account or something for nsfw!

The VA also encourages thirst trap art of Venture which to me feels SO ooc for Venture's character. Overwatch characters should NOT be self inserts! Did we not learn this already with Cassidy?!?! Sure, Venture's character can be flirty, but I see it in more so a 'hopeless romantic' super-hero whimsy way. Look at how Venture embellishes their intro in the intro animation! "Those boots, the drill, that perfect smile!"

It's light hearted and camp, not unironic gooner thirst trap lol. (Plus that mummy skin fanart trend for Venture eventually turned into people making fanart including orientalist fetish costumes. Smfh.)

There's nothing wrong with expressing sexuality, in fact I am happy for anyone that finds who they are and embraces it! But yeesh, as a professional VA in a T rated game, be appropriate for a T rated audience!!! Don't be horny on main when sfw fans are just trying to ask you about the VA profession. It's not cute, it’s immature and irresponsible and extremely unprofessional. Sorry to be a hater but. This person also voices characters in Monster High, a series aimed at a younger audience. The VA also voices a character in Genshin Impact... and I needn't say why it's concerning that the VA doesn't respect the audience the VA AS AN ADULT chooses to work in. :/

I also have beef with how Venture changed from concept to final product (loved the big smile, long lashes chill vibe + Venture's curls got nerfed >:/) so I might make a redesign of Venture in the future...

[acradelius]

hi! could you do a dom, giving moira and sub, receiving fem reader? i love how you write her :) maybe some action in her office/lab with a strap too ? tysm!

"Let's See How Well You Handle This One, Coinín~"

Fandom: Overwatch / Overwatch 2

Pairing: Moira O'Deorain x Female! Reader

Rating: Lemon [🟡] - (NSFW!)

Warnings/Mention Ofs: MDNI, Implied Non-Established/Possibly "Secretive" Relationship, Scientist / Scientist Assistance Relationship, Female x Female Relationship, Female Pronouns For Reader, Dominant! Female x Submissive! Female, "Mean, Punishing"! Moira, Possessive! Moira If You Squint, Strap-on Usage - Giving! Moira/Receiving! Reader, Clit Teasing, Nipple Play, Silicone P in V, Orgasm, Teasing With Cock-warming.

Word Count: 768 Words

Notes: This piece is technically considered to be a sequel part to this piece: "Quite The Punishment, Isn't It?"

If you'd like to be tagged for all posts, for certain fandom posts, or certain character posts then feel free to message me!

Those neat stacks of paper of research from the laboratory assistants that had taken quite some time to go through and essentially grade were now a disheveled mess amongst the floor, yet, Moira didn’t necessarily care for that at this moment. Why would Moira need to worry about some feeble papers about research that she was probably already aware about when she has something better presented in front of her? Despite that she was completely flustered, her skin slightly flushed from the situation at hand, that (Y/N) still looked absolutely stunning laying bare naked on Moira’s desk, clothes tossed aside on the floor to be forgotten about for the time being. “You did such a job well done, my dear Coinín~ While I would state that I’m surprised that you made it through the presentation without completely losing yourself to the immense please, you’ve been alongside me for quite some time now, so possibly you’re growing familiar to the punishments that I put you through~”

Moira could essentially state anything that she wants in that moment, but (Y/N)’s too preoccupied with the sight in front of herself despite laying on the desk to actually give a response. Especially since it was finally there for (Y/N) to actually view, for her to actually get to touch and experience with, that special gift that Moira had been hinting at for the last couple of weeks now. A custom made strapon. Being seven inches in length and three inches in width, colored with swirls of a glittering gold and an enigmatic purple from the tip down to the base of the cock. How it’s snuggly strapped onto Moira’s hips to rest against her pelvic, and how it just naturally blends in with Moira’s persona and aesthetic. Even for a moment (Y/N) swears that she could even see the cock throbbing, but it could be the arousal that was overtaking her mind.

There’s a brief moment where she proceeds to close her eyes in a moment of pleasure that courses throughout her body as Moira teasingly brushes the tip of the silicone cock against (Y/N)’s clit, chuckling softly. “Such an easy one to tease, such an easy one to please, aren’t you my dear Coinín?~” Watching as (Y/N)’s thighs twitch, clenching together slightly whenever that brief overwhelming rush washes over her body. Moira’s fingers trailing across (Y/N)’s skin, leaving lingering trails of an arousing fire, stopping amongst the various imperfections upon her skin as moreso a sign of reassurance that Moira loved (Y/N)’s body no matter how it looked. Gentle pinching and pulling at her nipples until they begin to perk and harden. Such a beautiful canvas waiting to be made into something more personal by Moira herself~

“More, please, Moira!~ F-Fuck, feels so good!~” (Y/N) manages to speak the words in between relentless moans and desperate whines, all those noises leaving her due to Moira’s rough, fast paced thrusts. Moira doesn’t mind that her thrusting is causing the desk to scrape against the floor, creating a loud scratching noise to echo throughout the air and scuff up the floor, she’ll get that fixed later. How (Y/N)’s fingers are tightly gripping the sides of the desk so much that they’re turning white, a feeble attempt to keep herself positioned on the desk despite moving quotes often from the force. A shiver courses throughout (Y/N)’s body at the additional sensations of Moira entangling her fingers within (Y/N)’s hair and firmly giving a yank followed by her other hand harshly smacking (Y/N)’s ass, a grin forming on her lips as the handprint, begins to form bright red and slightly irritated. 

 “Fuck!-” It’s quick to overcome and cause haywire to all of (Y/N)’s senses, the intense orgasm that finally unravels within (Y/N). How her body begins to tremble against Moira’s while her cunt flutters and proceeds to clench and unclench around Moira’s cock. Closing her eyes, (Y/N) lays her head amongst the desk as shaky breaths make way from her lips, basking in the afterglow of her orgasm. Only Moira knows how to give her pleasure beyond what she could imagine, and therefore, Moira is the only one that (Y/N) strives to be with, especially in moments as intimate as this one. “Such a job well done, (Y/N)~ Giving me excellent results as always~ Now, my dear Coinín, let’s see how long you can last keeping my cock warm while I grade the rest of these papers~”

[rhamrhanch]

Shepherd of Death, Don't Herd Me

Part Three: Water in the Desert

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (gender-neutral pronouns)

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort

Next Chapter // Masterlist

chapter under the cut ↓

---

The shadow of Ramattra’s cowl provided little respite from the Oasis sun.

His body was metal. It did not crisp and peel like wax under the sun's rays as the delicate skin of humans did. Still, he did not enjoy the heat. The radiating warmth forced his body to work twice as hard to maintain its temperature, and he was slightly more sluggish for it.

Ducking into a shaded alleyway, he pulled up a map of the area on his HUD. He was on his way to a rendezvous with Talon concerning the retrieval of his drowned ship. Enough time had passed since his attack on Gothenburg—he was eager to return to his work.

A loud blast suddenly shook the ground, dust falling from the brick walls of the alley. The map disappeared from his vision as he looked up. A plume of smoke billowed against the blue tarp of the sky, only a short distance from where he stood.

Curiosity drove him forward more than anything. As he walked closer to the scene of the explosion, a crowd of people began flooding into the alleyway. He felt something bump against him. It was a male human, young-looking. The momentum from the collision sent the boy flying, landing on his back on the ground.

"Hey! Watch where you're…" he trailed off, eyes slowly traveling up until they met the glowing red dots of the Ravager's face plate. Ramattra did not acknowledge his fear, his head turned in the direction of the smoke.

"Where did that come from?"

The young man's voice shook. "T-The un-university."

Ramattra nodded once, and the boy scrambled to his feet, his hurried footsteps echoing behind him. He began to walk against the sea of fleeing humans, who parted around him like water. It used to bother him, the way humans scurried out of his way wherever he went, but he had since grown to appreciate the convenience of it.

Soon, he found himself standing before the arching entrance of the university, its grandeur dampened by the debris littering the ground. Inside, it was as if time had frozen. Desks were left in a hurry, some with coffee cups still steaming. Whatever happened here was quite recent, possibly still ongoing.

A distant popping caught his attention. No matter how deep he smothered it, his programming would always recognize that sound—the sound of a firefight.

Ramattra walked briskly toward it, down a long corridor that led him to the central atrium of the university. There was a massive hole blown in the wall, through which he could see Talon troopers roaming, their guns raised. He slipped into the room next to the square, careful not to make any noise. Technically, Talon was his ally, but he felt no strong urge to help them right now. Their foot soldiers were woefully inept, and he was not in the mood for babysitting.

The sound of footsteps echoed behind him. He whirled around, his cowl flaring out behind him as he aimed his staff at the doorway, only to freeze just as quickly.

You had abandoned your mechanic's coveralls for an Overwatch uniform and your back was turned, but he recognized your profile instantly.

Holding his hand out, he prepared to raise his shield, waited for you to turn around—but you didn't. You continued walking backwards up the stairs until you passed the doorway, which you swiftly ducked behind. Your gun was raised in the direction you had just come from, blissfully unaware of the omnic standing a meter behind you.

Should he… say something? Alert you to the fact that you were not as alone as you thought?

He was still perplexed by how to proceed when you began speaking into your earpiece.

"No Talon presence detected at point B, standing by for backup."

Ramattra could not hear the reply, but there seemed to be a bit of a back and forth. It made you curse.

"Shit. Okay, I'll go by myself."

He watched you haphazardly look around, yet somehow still not behind you. How were you this clueless? No wonder you were an engineer and not a fighter.

Suddenly, a smattering of red-orange spots lit up his vision—his infrared sensors. Talon soldiers were approaching the atrium. You couldn't see them from your position, your view of the entrance blocked by the staircase. You straightened up, preparing to walk through the doorway.

He moved without thinking, hooking his staff around your waist and yanking you toward him, out of sight. Your mouth opened as if to yell, and he clamped his hand down over it, muffling what he assumed was a slew of curses. Your elbow reared back, preparing to hit him. Quickly, he slid his staff into the crook of his arm as his newly freed hand restrained you against him, pinning your arms to your sides. It was mostly for your own sake—elbowing his chest would hurt you a lot more than it would him and was ultimately useless.

You bucked fiercely against his hold, boots scuffing loudly on the ground as you tried to free yourself. At this point, Talon would catch the both of you if you continued in this manner.

"Quiet, or they will hear you!" he hissed. Your head jerked up at him, eyes wide in recognition.

---

This was truly not your day.

As soon as Overwatch received a tip that Talon planned to infiltrate the university in Oasis, you all but begged Winston to go. You were desperate to make up for your blunder a month ago, when you had groggily woken up to the sight of your coworkers standing over you, the leader of Null Sector nowhere to be seen.

Before you could explain yourself, give some meager excuse as to how Overwatch's most important prisoner had escaped, you were whisked away to the med bay by Mercy for treatment. As you recovered from your near asphyxiation, you feared what would happen next. Would Winston fire you? Would you be accused of conspiring with Ramattra and left to fend for yourself once again?

You couldn't do it. You would rather die than be found by Talon, a fate that was guaranteed without Overwatch's protection. For a whole day, you laid in bed, dreading the moment Winston would walk in and order you to pack your bags.

And eventually, he did come to you. But instead of the harsh reprimand you expected, he only apologized profusely—for putting you in danger, for not doing more to guarantee your safety.

The guilt in his voice had somehow felt worse than if he had just given you a fierce tongue-lashing.

Because you knew the truth. Everyone reassured you that it wasn't your fault—but it was. You could have stopped him. You had a gun, had even shot someone before. If you wanted to, you could have incapacitated him long enough to call for help. He was the leader of Null Sector—there should have been no doubt in your mind to pull the trigger.

But even as Ramattra held your throat in his hand, squeezing the life out of you, you hesitated.

Your hands were tied after that, having already made the promise to repair him. By that point, you were too invested in the process of it, the eagerness to work on an R-7000, that you forgot the mortal peril you were in. Getting sucked in to your work was always a bad habit of yours.

Only his reminder of the bounty on your head snapped you out of it, and by that point, it was too late. Even in his weakened state, he was fast, much faster than you. Your only way to defend yourself gone, you were left to his mercy.

You were determined not to make the same mistake again. And so your need to prove your usefulness had led you here, separated from your team and hiding from the Talon soldiers that swarmed the building.

This was meant to be a relatively casual mission, which was why you volunteered for it. All you had to do was secretly guard the university and ensure no Talon forces infiltrated the library. Easy enough; you weren't an exceptionally skilled fighter like Genji or Tracer, but you were scrappy enough that you could hold your own against one or two opponents.

Everything had gone smoothly until Talon caught wind of Overwatch's plan, all manner of subtlety then thrown out the window after they blew a damn hole in the building. In the ensuing fight, you were split from the rest of your team, but you still had a job to do. Under no circumstances could Talon be allowed to breach the library.

You hugged the wall, gun raised. Slowly approaching the wide arch of the entrance to the garden, you saw two Talon soldiers standing on the opposite side. Quickly, you ducked behind a hedge, weapon held close to your chest. Not hearing anything, you cautiously peeked over it again. They were posted in front of a door that stretched to the ceiling—the entrance to the atrium, which housed the only door to the library.

You needed to get past them somehow.

You reached down and silently picked up one of the stones lining the hedge. With as much speed as you could manage, you whipped your arm toward the opposite side of the garden. The stone landed in the bushes, rustling the leaves there. One of the guards perked up at the noise, leaving their post to investigate. Perfect. You weren't particularly worried about dealing with them if it came down to it—Talon soldiers weren't notorious for their fighting skills—but a one-on-one would be quieter.

Slowly, you slinked towards the left side of the garden until you reached the balcony. There was a staircase there that led to the atrium entrance. Once up the stairs, you crouched down and peered past the wall. The soldier still standing at the door seemed not to have noticed anything. It wouldn't be possible to get through to the atrium without him seeing you, and you couldn't fire your gun without risking the attention of the other.

You supposed that left you with only one option.

Your boots pounded against the tile as you sprinted toward him. The sound seemed to startle him, and he hastily raised his gun in panic. Before he could pull the trigger, your hand swung out, pistol-whipping his chin. His head recoiled to the side harshly as he collapsed to the ground, out cold.

Quickly, you sneaked into the atrium. There was no way the other grunt didn't hear that—you needed to find cover, fast. You flattened your back against the wall, pointing your gun at the doorway. Luckily, there was only empty air.

You backed away tentatively, walking further into the atrium. The back of your heel bumped against something, and you nearly toppled over, rebalancing with less grace than you wanted. You peeked backwards out of the corner of your eye; there was a short staircase leading into another room. Carefully putting one foot behind the other, you treaded carefully up the stairs until you were past the doorway.

Making as little noise as possible, you dove behind the wall, pistol clicking as you pointed it at… nothing. You exhaled heavily; you were safe, for now.

"No Talon presence detected at point B, standing by for backup," you said quietly into your comm. There was a long pause before it pinged in your ear again, gunshots ringing out from the other end.

"More Talon agents have arrived at our location." Genji's voice was hurried, and you heard the clash of steel. "Winston is handling them right now." Almost on cue, a loud roar and crash sounded behind him.

"Can you make it to my position?"

"No, there are too many here." He swore sharply, the gunfire now louder than before. "You said there is no Talon presence where you are?"

"Yes, that's right."

Genji made a sort of annoyed sound. Its robotic timbre reverberated in your ear. "Ah, it's no good then. You're the closest out of all of us."

"Shit." Your head spun rapidly as you tried to think. As long as Talon's reinforcements were confined to the entrance, you should be relatively safe to move. Yes, you could do this. "Okay, I'll go by myself."

The comm clicked off, and you steeled yourself briefly before moving to stand up. But just as your knees straightened, something pulled on your waist with what felt like the force of a freight train. Your back slammed against a rigid surface, knocking the wind out of you.

Damn it, not again. How did this keep happening to you?

A metal hand clamped down on your mouth. Instinctively, you thrashed against it, but your captor restrained you, rendering you immobile with the sturdy weight of their arm. Rising panic made you jerk wildly, doing anything you could in a desperate attempt to free yourself. You were kicking out in a frenzy when a harsh voice cut through the air.

"Quiet, or they will hear you!"

What?

Your head snapped up, eyes forced to squint at the familiar red glow glaring down at you. Before you could even begin to process what you were seeing, the sound of boots against tile reached your ear. You froze, instinctively crushing yourself against Ramattra's chest. The metal ribs of his armor dug into your back, but you hardly noticed as your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

The steps echoed louder, approaching closer and closer to the staircase. You were breathing rapidly—it felt like air was running away from you, but you couldn't stop.

His arm was an iron bar against your abdomen, and you tried to focus your thoughts on the pressure. A soft current of air brushed against the back of your neck—the quiet whir of his internal fans, a calming song that thrummed throughout your body.

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps finally retreated.

Ramattra's arm relaxed, his hand sliding across your stomach. The touch made you shudder—no, no, now was not the time for this.

Swinging your legs forward, you kicked behind you with all your might. Your feet landed square on target, the omnic grunting as his knee buckled, releasing you to slam his staff against the ground. You whipped around to face him, cocking your gun with one hand. As he rose, so did the barrel, trained on his chest right where you knew his central processor sat.

His face plate was expressionless, but he seemed less angry and more annoyed, as if the gun pointed at his chest was no more than a mere inconvenience.

"What are you doing?" he growled.

"What am I doing? What the hell do you think you're doing?" you scoffed.

"I—" He stopped himself, fist clenching around his staff. He seemed to have no answer.

You stared at each other in a standoff, neither daring to break eye contact. A thousand questions ran through your mind.

Why was he here? Was Null Sector preparing an attack on Oasis? Was he working with Talon?

There were so many words clamoring against your skull that it paralyzed you into not speaking at all. After a full minute of silence, one question finally managed to slip past your lips.

"Why did you help me?"

That was what puzzled you most of all. Back in your workshop, he had spared your life despite your attempt to pull a gun on him. Now, he seemingly appeared out of thin air to save you from Talon soldiers? What was his game here?

"Believe me, it was not my intention," he replied snidely.

That… didn't make any sense. "Answer the question," you demanded, more forcefully this time.

"It matters little what I say. My answer will not satisfy you."

Another deflection. You were growing tired of this.

Ramattra's gaze followed you as you walked forward, all the image of a hitman that had met their mark. He didn't move, didn't even flinch when the barrel of your gun tapped against the center of his chest.

"Is that all you have to say?" you asked.

There was only the hum of his internal machinery, a sound you had grown to recognize. Even with your gun pointed directly at him, he was silent.

You let your hand fall with a sigh. You weren't going to get the answers you wanted this way. But he remained still, making no move to leave as his face plate stared down at you.

"Fine, then. I only have one thing to say to you."

You slipped your other hand out of your pocket, placing it on his chest. It was warm against your palm, warmer than you expected from a body made of metal. His chest rose slightly in reflex, as though taking in a breath. Everything about him was so alive—the sounds his machinery made as they moved inside him, the oscillating temperature of his chassis as it burned against your skin. The guilt coiled in your stomach sank even deeper.

"Thank you," you murmured, "and I'm sorry for this."

The Ravager tilted his head at you in silent question. But you only pulled away, a circular emitter left where your hand once was. He reacted lightning fast, his hand surging up to grasp it—but it never got there, halted in place as it started to twitch uncontrollably. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a scratchy, glitchy mess as he fell to his knees, his hands spasming against the ground, grasping nothing.

The sight was almost enough to make you forget what you were doing this for. Before you lost your nerve, you clicked the comm in your ear. Your hesitance may have gotten the better of you last time, but it was not going to happen again. He knew your name, face, and affiliation—letting him go was no longer an option.

"It's me. Talon has breached point B and is headed towards point C, requesting immediate assistance at my location."

[biotic-raptorian-angel]

The lab was silent except for the faint hum of equipment. Moira sat alone, her mind a whirlwind of calculations, frustrations, and defiance. She stared at the glowing vial of biotic serum on the workstation before her, its potential too great to ignore. Overwatch’s refusal to approve human trials felt like a personal insult.

Her mismatched eyes flicked to the syringe she had prepared, already filled with the serum. If no one else would understand the importance of her work, she would prove it herself.

“I know it's ready,” she murmured, gripping the syringe tightly. Without giving herself time to second-guess, she pressed the needle into her arm and injected the serum.

The effect was almost instantaneous. A searing pain tore through her veins, and her vision blurred. She stumbled back, knocking over a chair as her legs buckled beneath her. A strange sensation spread through her body—hot, cold, electric. She looked down at her hand as the skin darkened to an ominous purple, veins glowing faintly beneath. Her breathing quickened as dizziness overtook her, and before she could cry out for help, the world went black.

Angela entered the lab a few hours later, clutching a tablet with the day’s reports. She expected to find the room empty, but the sight before her made her freeze.

“Moira?” she called, her voice trembling as she rushed forward.

Moira was slumped on the floor, her normally sharp features pale, her body unnaturally still. Angela dropped to her knees beside her, her heart pounding. She checked for a pulse—it was faint but there. Relief surged through her, but it was fleeting as her gaze fell on Moira’s hand.

Angela’s breath caught. The purple discoloration, the faint glow beneath the skin—it was unmistakable. “What did you do?” she whispered, more to herself than to the unconscious scientist.

Acting quickly, Angela grabbed a medical scanner from the workstation, running it over Moira’s body. The readings were chaotic—her biotic energy levels were spiking dangerously, her heart rate erratic. Angela’s mind raced. She had seen traces of this kind of energy in Moira’s work before but never to this degree.

“Why would you do this to yourself?” she muttered, pressing a hand to Moira’s cheek. Her skin was cool, her breaths shallow. Angela had to act fast.

Pulling Moira’s arm over her shoulder, Angela strained to lift her. Moira was taller and heavier than she looked, but Angela’s determination outweighed the challenge. She managed to get her onto a nearby cot, hooking her up to monitors and administering a stabilizing agent. As she worked, her hands trembled—not from fear, but from anger and worry.

Hours passed before Moira stirred, her mismatched eyes fluttering open. She groaned softly, her gaze unfocused.

“Angela…” she croaked, her voice weak.

Angela leaned over her, her expression a mix of relief and frustration. “You’re awake,” she said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from Moira’s face. “What were you thinking?”

Moira tried to sit up, but Angela’s firm hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Don’t,” Angela said, her tone stern but kind. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

Moira’s gaze drifted to her hand, now resting limply by her side. The purple hue remained, a stark reminder of her actions. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I had to know,” she said hoarsely. “No one else understands the urgency of this work.”

Angela shook her head, her blue eyes filled with hurt. “You don’t have to destroy yourself to prove your brilliance, Moira. I’ve always known how brilliant you are. But this…” She gestured to the monitors and Moira’s hand. “This isn’t worth your life.”

Moira looked away, shame flickering in her expression. “I didn’t expect you to find me,” she admitted.

“Of course I found you,” Angela replied, her voice softening. “I care about you, Moira. Even if you don’t care about yourself.”

Moira’s eyes met Angela’s, vulnerability breaking through her usual stoic mask. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Angela placed a hand over Moira’s, her touch gentle but grounding.

“Let me help you,” Angela said. “Not just with this, but with everything. You don’t have to face it alone.”

Moira’s throat tightened as she tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she nodded weakly, allowing herself, for once, to lean on someone else.

[akoiromanticstudent]

gavotte capriccio, 1. leggiero

Fandom: Overwatch 2 [here we go again]

Relationship: Maestro Siebren de Kuiper/Adult Student GN Reader

Rating: Mature, suggestive themes

Summary: "So, you're taking piano lessons with Maestro de Kuiper, huh? Heard he's tough." (Tiny suggestive/teasing/crushing snippets of the imagination with the Maestro.)

=====

[LONG SERIES OF FERAL NOISES]

I NEED MORE MAESTRO SIGMA CONTENT AAARRRGHAHRGAHGHGHGHARHRGGHGHG

So while I'm procrastinating 5 other Sigma/Reader fics/chapters, here's a spontaneous spitballing of fantasies for what is definitely, objectively, the hottest Sigma skin.

=====

[yeehanfrf]

Week 1 Recs: One Shot, One Kill

The Week 1 Fic Rec Friday theme was "One Shot, One Kill," or fics that clock in under 10,000 words. Here are all the bite-sized fics recommended by the Yeehan community, organized by rating, then alphabetically by title.

General Audience

A Dragon's Treasure by SetsunaNoroi [5,958 words] Reccer comment: "It's a bit of comfort read; short, sweet, humourous, charming, and hits a lot of what I enjoy reading in a YH fic."

Hanzo can't help himself in developing feelings for Jesse McCree, but that doesn't mean he has to share them. With his sins, he is better off alone but still he can't help but want him. It should be fine as long as he just never says anything. Unfortunately his dragons have different ideas and keep trying to lay claim on the cowboy. Mostly McCree is just confused.

In Hot Pursuit by AsheRhyder [3,928 words] Reccer comment: "Loser man Cassidy fumbling the bag with Hanzo ft. Papa Reaps."

Cassidy can flirt, but he's never had someone actually take him up on the offers his silver tongue makes.

Hanzo is determined to win whatever game they're playing, especially when the prize is a flustered cowboy.

Gabriel and Jack just want to play cards.

To Grow Old Together (Is the Ultimate Declaration of Love) by PlanetaryRose [697 words] Reccer comment: "v short but v v sweet"

“I don’t just love you Jesse, I adore you, you are my heart but it is more than that. I want to spend the rest of my days with you, to grow old with you and have you forever by my side and in my arms.

You consume me in every way, mind, body, and soul. I would spend the rest of my days with you, dedicate my life to you.”

Teen and Up

Dreamlike by mataglap [4,063 words] Reccer comment: "4,063 words of achingly sweet fluff!"

Hanzo is used to bad dreams, and he never would have expected that a good dream would end up haunting him the most.

Finding Home, Building Home by coinin [1,975 words] Reccer comment: "rly sweet slice of yeehan, punches u in the face in under 2k words!"

It's taken a while, helped along by teammates, arguments about furniture, and quite a bit of cat hair, but Jesse's finally made a home.

Midway by robocryptid [2,329 words] Reccer comment: "2329 words that I go back to often because it hits a perfect balance between funny, sweet and romantic."

Cassidy and Hanzo go undercover at the fair to track a mark. Obviously they blend in best if everyone assumes they're a couple. It goes exactly how you think.

Silver Screen by DerpyMcButtface [1,990 words] Reccer comment: "Some people might hate me for recommending this one bc it’s SAD, but I really love the premise, and it’s VERY well written."

It's far, far in the future. The heroes are dead, old, or getting there fast. They're making movies now, about Overwatch, but not everyone's happy about that.

Mature

All the Love You Ever Get by SaltCore [3,387 words] Reccer comment: "3387 words to make you cry (mind the tags!)"

Some carry the last words they'll ever hear their soulmate say like a brand on their skin. Whether it's a blessing or a curse is for the philosophers to decide.

Hanzo, for his part, would rather fate had passed him by instead of leaving her mark.

Electric by mataglap [2,212 words] Reccer comment: "Caught up in a thunderstorm, gets spicy"

They get caught in a storm. Things get slightly out of control.

Fire from the Gods by Adolphus Longestaffe [1,372 words] Reccer comment: "very short but beautifully written"

Used to be every time he looked away you got afraid he didn’t love you no more. Now every time he breathes out you’re afraid he won’t breathe in again.

Shrimp Heaven Now by Liquid_Lyrium [5,916 words] Reccer comment: "utterly silly fun"

Hanzo is single-handedly trying to get them thrown out of every Red Lobster in town. McCree is just along for the ride.

Explicit

blisters by cosmicevil [3,141 words] Reccer comment: "A gut punch every time I read it"

Hanzo is going to figure it out.

Debriefing by MittenCrab [6,332 words] Reccer comment: "The scene from this fic haunts me (in a good way). I think about it quite a lot. 6332 words by MittenCrab. A lot of feelings. So many feelings."

“You did not debrief,” Hanzo says finally. It’s more a statement than a question.

[McCree’s mission goes badly when he crosses paths with Reaper - the man who was once everything to him. Wounded and frustrated, he meets Hanzo at one of their safe houses, where he discovers that debriefing can be a lot more fun than he’d previously imagined. (PWP)]

Familiar Habits by Philosophics [8,176 words]

After joining Overwatch, Hanzo finds it difficult to sleep some nights. It is nothing a hot cup of tea cannot fix, but he never expected that he would have company.

(or: hanzo is very thirsty, in more ways than one)

It Will Come Back by CorvidFightClub [3,434 words] Reccer comment: "3,434 words, it’s fuck or die with bonus werewolf :D"

McCree and Hanzo are captured by a gang somewhere in the American Midwest after a mission. The situation becomes more dire when Hanzo finds out the gang isn’t the only thing he has to worry about.

On the Mouth by super_duper [3,292 words] Reccer comment: "I always come back to this one bc it's such a perfect balance of virgin and manslut Hanzo"

Jesse and Hanzo have a thing. Jesse would like it to be more than a thing. Hanzo has a secret.

Slippage by robocryptid [1,389 words] Reccer comment: "some more angst with smut and questionable comfort in 1389 words"

Cassidy compartmentalizes. Hanzo knows it, because he does the same.

It’s supposed to be simple, and it’s anything but.

your good side by motorghost [2,053 words] Reccer comment: "this one by motorghost is so delicious!!!"

Hanzo feels himself changing because of Cole. There's lots of ways to thank him, but when you only have nightly webcam chats, your options are limited. Luckily Hanzo is more creative than Cole knows.

Thank you to everyone who sent in a recommendation! Keep an eye out for next week's theme: "Feel-Good Hour," for all your heartwarming fluff needs!

[embodies]

THE NEURAL RECONDITIONING / BIRTH* OF WIDOWMAKER. † disclaimer: creative liberty taken with scientific accuracy, this is a work of fiction after all!

[ ARCHIVE ] Communications Records of Ziegler, A. Overwatch File 054 — Security Classification : CONFIDENTIAL. PERSONNEL DETAILS — SUBJECT : Amélie ███████ ALIASES : Widowmaker CITIZENSHIP : ANNECY, FRANCE ASSOCIATIONS : TALON NOTES : (1) Wanted in connection with the attacks against Overwatch personnel in multiple locations, notably Gérard Lacroix. (2) Wanted in connection with several smuggling operations focused on weapons proliferation throughout Europe. (3) The extent of her condition is unknown, lethality must not be underestimated.

amélie lacroix (formerly guillard) was the perfect target for overwatch infiltration. a known associate due to her marriage to gérard lacroix who spearheaded the operations against talon, it's a wonder more care and protection wasn't afforded for her safety. overwatch's greatest oversight became talon's biggest asset.

this neural reconditioning programme occurred in two 'stages' : the first was a more routinely mental reprogramming with the sole intention of returning seemingly unscathed and killing her husband at his most vulnerable, in his sleep. the nature of this followed general torture techniques including but not limited to: severe starvation/force-feeding, forced insomnia, hallucinogenics, chinese water torture. this had a short-term effect and, while potent, lasted just long enough for amélie to secure her (talon's) kill and return to them for further programmes.

amélie did not return to talon of her own free will and i actively rebuke that element of canon.

her second stage was far more invasive with much longer (often forever) lasting effects. her body was already in a good shape for the purpose moira wanted (a ballet dancer is agile, flexible, lithe) but needed more muscle strength and combat skill to truly thrive. the measures they went to are listed, albeit not comprehensive:

heart rate drastically decreased through use of a major heart surgery, drugs, ice baths, induced sleep, etc. for multiple purposes: utmost focus and a steadier hand when aiming/sniping, a reduced body heat so as not to be as visible on infrared/heat scanners, reduced blood flow to minimise effects of shallow to medium wounds in the heat of combat. side effect: cyanosis (discoloration of the skin, has turned blue/grey and nails/lips are dark).

skin genetically hardened with the introduction of silver for the purpose of being more resistant to pain, bullets, general combat, etc. with the further side effect of argyria (further skin discoloration enhancing the blue/grey colour).

eyes cybernetically enhanced (hence the yellow colouring) to grant her better vision for sniping and enhanced night vision.

legs replaced with prosthetics from the knee down, for the purpose of steady (to a superhuman level) footing particularly when grappling to high grounds, etc. can also be fitted with attachments for abseiling, deep sea diving, or other terrain-specific excursions.

arms genetically enhanced with multiple injections, surgeries, and generic training post-surgery to increase their strength to a superhuman level. necessary for bolstering the widow's kiss, a heavier gun than it looks, without excessive recoil.

major brain surgery: certain parts pertaining to specific regions of memory/emotion have been removed entirely. cored like an apple. they cannot be restored. favourable traits and emotions have been retained however widowmaker is no longer capable of love, the most crucial due to her affiliations. she cannot hesitate when needing to kill a target she is attached to if she can't get attached in the first place. also not capable of compassion, empathy, joy, jealousy, nostalgia, hope, or adjacent emotions. favourable traits were kept and (in some cases) these parts of the brain surgically enhanced: loyalty, curiosity, pride, ambition, confidence, and again adjacent emotions.

brain restoration surgery: the gaps in her brain where crucial parts have been removed were then restored with webbing: to be specific, the web fluid/silk of a genetically modified genus of spider, moira's own creation. this acts as a neural conductor when sewn in and completely integrates with the flesh of the brain/body to maintain functionality. side effect: some minor spider - like affinities/traits are retained, widowmaker often moves as quickly or erratically as a spider, has likened herself to spiders and received tattoos to allude to such. her long-term memories are extremely inconsistent with gaps and inconsistencies. her venom mines also use the venom of this same spider.

further (minor) surgeries: fingerprints surgically removed by burning/corroding the skin so as not to be easily identified on missions, hair transplant (again to remove dna traces of amélie), forced starvation/insomnia to train the body to need less sustenance and rest (more uptime/less cost).

upon completion of all these surgical enhancements, there was of course a prolonged rest period after which the newly formed widowmaker was made subject to intense training: advanced marksmanship, weaponry knowledge, general fitness/medical training (with a focus on traversal with her grapple/abseiling), navigation and fieldcraft skills, camouflage, concealment and stalking techniques, observation, target identification, reconnaissance, survival skills, endurance, escape and evasion, foreign language training.

from here she was ready to go.

she does not recall a vast amount of this period, nor does she lucidly recall much of her time as amélie. her body remembers more, be it through muscle memory (while she is no longer visibly recognisable as the woman she once was, upon further inspection she maintains many mannerisms unique to amélie) or simply the trauma her body has experienced being unearthed in ways unassociated to the gaps in her brain. some of her long term memories contradict one another leading her to have an immense lack of trust in other people and the definition of what is real. she may innately know she was 'amélie', but this is not a name used to refer to her anymore. she is lacroix or widowmaker and little else other than rumoured titles of enemies' own making. (the widow, the spider, cauchemar, the nightmare, etc.)

she is not stupid : she knows to some extent she has been genetically changed for the purpose of killing, but does not know the circumstances of her consent or the exact length/extent of the procedures done to her. she is certainly suspicious and under careful measures of her own will try and find out more of this time period, but for the most part is dutiful to talon in undertaking their orders.

finally, perhaps most importantly: there is no way to restore amélie or the emotions taken from her. any 'redemption' for widowmaker comes from her capability to develop as a new person, never quite a human being, for the emotions that make a human such have been removed. she is less human than an omnic in this sense, and scorns that.

* birth is a very intentional word in the title. widowmaker has elements of childlike curiosity and wonder to her. she is in many ways a literally reborn person with remnants of the previous overstaying their welcome. she can strangely come across quite naive and innocent in certain aspects but only piecemeal. she is of course lethal, unsettling, dangerous. but just like any born creature has questions and self-exploration to do that many of us as adults already have the answer to.

[carmensbrain]

Hi um I saw you write for reaper.. do u have any headcanons on how he shows affection (with a partner)? 🫶

Ofc I can!! This is actually something I like thinking about so it’s gonna be a wombo combo! (≧ᗜ≦)🎀

Contains- Reaper AND Gabriel brain dump.

Rating- E for all of the brains!

Warnings- none

Authors note- so my phone got run over by fire truck and grammarly sucks on this laptop, sincerest apologies for any spelling errors!

Fic starts below the cut!

Gabriel Reyes

♱ Gabriel is an intimedating man to say the least, striking fear into the faces of new recruits, but not with you.

♱Though Gabriel hides his marrital status from the general public and the majority of overwatch, trust he mentions you every time he talks with Jack, Cole, Genji, or even Angela without fail.

♱ He tries his best to stay in the loop with your social life, often getting a little too invested in some petty drama between girls at your workplace.

♱Even when he can't make it, Gabe makes sure you know how much he loves you and not in a boring way, not through a call and most definately not through texts. He sends flowers to your shared home, specially picked out arrangements of your favorite flowers that you mentioned on your first date years ago, hand written letters the size of a light book packed neatly with your name printed beautifully on the front.

♱ He purpously leaves a few sweaters hes worn alot behind while hes away to make sure youll always have something of his even when hes out risking his life.

♱ The second that he enters the door of your shared home hes stuck to you like glue, arms wrapped around your waist as you do dishes and fill him in on whats gone on while hes away, limbs tangled with yours while he falls asleep for the first time in weeks.

♱ He makes sure to find the most beutiful dresses for you so you can attend Overwatch galas alongside him, he knows every curve and dip of your body and soul anyway so what he brings home is perfect always both for you and the occasion.

♱ Among the rubble of the swiss base they recovered tens of letters addressed to you that he never got to send, pages upon pages detailing just how much he missed you and how relived he was to have some vacation days coming up. The pages are fragile and covered in ashes but you kept every last salvageable sheet to reread on those late nights.

Reaper

𓆩𓆪 After joining talon he spent the majority of his time working, taking lives in order to try and forget his last one.

𓆩𓆪 It's not like he didnt want to have you back in his arms but he knew there were far too many concequences, but most of all he didnt want Talon to find you.

𓆩𓆪 Every once and a while you do recive letters, short yet so genuine, you thought they were backlogged letters the search team had forgotten to send but one night you caught him.

𓆩𓆪 Reaper had been standing outide of your home for just a little longer than he usually did, heart aching as he sees all of the changes that happened while he was hiding and you cracked open the door just in time.

𓆩𓆪 After a lot of convincing he stays the night, hesitent to be too close as you heat up some dinner for him.

𓆩𓆪 While he eats his first home cooked meal in what was probably a decade he reaches his scared hand out for yours, touch just barely ghosting on your skin.

𓆩𓆪 He treats you like youre a porcilain doll, his hands cold against your warm skin as he admires you for the ninth time that hour. hes truly afraid to hurt you, he knows how his strength can easily drain the life from a person and hes terrified to lose you again, he wont admit that though.

𓆩𓆪 He comes to visit in the late hours of the night, sneaking into your home to tuck you into the plush sheets of your bed, often times he'll rouse you awake for some much needed affection.

𓆩𓆪 Sombra is quick to pick up on these late night journeys and has gotten quite a few favors from him to keep his secret.

[edensdahlia]

༊*·˚ Until I Say So

CHARACTERS: John Price x F! Reader (M! Reader here)

RATING: NSFW

CONTENTS: Military reader, canon typical violence, Price thinks reader needs a little extra training after they get compromised during a mission, may be inaccuracies in the fighting, porn with plot because I can’t write it without, established relationship, relationship with a superior <3, sparring as foreplay, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, voyeurism (?), multiple orgasms, nicknames used: muppet, darling, love

ೃ⁀➷ WORD COUNT: 2K

“--How copy?” Price’s voice crackled through the comms, rough in all the right places and with just the slightest bit of worry buried deep beneath his impassive tone. It couldn’t be helped, worrying about you came naturally to him, like donning a second skin he couldn’t seem to shed no matter how hard he tried. He really did try. In his line of work, he couldn’t afford to worry, it was a distraction when he needed to be anything but. Distractions could cost a life.

Subconsciously, Price tightened the grip he had on his rifle, trying to convince himself the sudden tension in his body was from the mission itself and not you. Although he really shouldn’t have been tense over that either. The operation was a simple two-person job with him acting as overwatch while you mapped out the interior of a warehouse suspected to be owned by a high-profile cartel. During debriefing Laswell had confirmed that the warehouse would be empty until the following week when shipments would first start arriving.

Meaning it should have been an easy in and out. Childs play really, and yet the silence seemed to stretch eons as he continued to scan the windows of the warehouse, searching for any sign of movement. For any sign of you. The sound of static filtered through the air, startling him, and then your voice came through, low and slightly breathy.

“All good so far Captain. Warehouse appears empty.”

Your voice was like a shot of comfort directly to his nervous system. The tension in his body seemed to fade. His grip slackened but remained steady as he continued searching the windows. “Good. Map the layout and get out. Quickly yeah?” There was the sound of static again and then your hushed laughter- more an exhale than an actual laugh.

“Sounds like you’re worried sir.”

He was. Of course, he was.

“Focus Sergeant.” It wasn’t a direct command but it had the same effect regardless. On the other side of the comms, you fell silent returning your attention back to the objective you’d been given. Eventually, finally, he caught sight of you, moving with the efficiency that had been drilled into you as a rookie.

Price watched as you dipped in and out of side rooms his heart seeming to still until you came back into the focus of his scope standing just in his line of sight. Your head was tilted up towards the window as if you could see him and the thought sent a secret thrill up his spine.

“All finished here sir, heading back your way.”

“Good work, Sergeant.” The praise fell from his lips easily. Like a secret only you were privy to. His words hung briefly between you two disappearing like mist on a summer day as something flashed behind you, a streak of silver turned a blinding white by the moonlight cast through the cracking windows. 

The warehouse was supposed to be empty.

The shadowy figure behind you crumpled to the ground, dead by the silent bullet Price had put through his brain. A moment too late. Just a moment. You looked up through the shattered glass one hand around your neck attempting to stop the blood that leaked through your shaking fingers.

♡ 。 。

Price loomed above you his legs bracketing your hips, keeping you pinned firmly to the floor in a position that was vaguely familiar. He smelled of cigar smoke and sweat, a combination you would have found comfort in had you not been wrestling with him for some semblance of control. You thrashed in his grip fists coming up to connect harshly against his chest. The force of it drew a small wheeze from him that morphed into a growl as he dug the blunt edge of a knife unceremoniously against your neck. It rested just above the jagged scar splitting your throat and when he pressed down just a bit more you felt the warning behind it, gaze finding his in defeat.

He shook his head at the look withdrawing from you, watching as you rolled over, panting from exertion and the vaguest hint of something else. Sweat collected near your hairline and dripped slowly down your nose leaving a dark stain on the mat below you. 

“Get up muppet.” The words fell from him, in a harsh bark that had your mind dizzy with the possibilities of what else he could command you to do. Weakly, every bone in your body aching with the movement, you pulled yourself to your feet, stumbling slightly to the side. 

“Can’t we take a break Captain?” You wiped the sweat from your brow with the edge of your shirt, the movement revealing a strip of scarred skin. His gaze flickered to it unthinkingly. “I just got dismissed from medical you know.” Your shirt dropped back in place and he frowned simultaneously at the loss of such a sight and your words.

“And why were you put there in the first place Sergeant?” Price challenged. You sighed through your nose and he took that as a sign of defeat gesturing with the plastic knife in a ‘come on’ motion. “Again.” His gaze remained steady on yours as you circled the mat together, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Taking initiative you lunged for him, your dominant hand swinging out in a messy hook. Price ducked easily beneath the arm you had thrown out, pivoting so he could slam his foot into the back of your knee. You crumpled to the ground hands coming out to catch you, but he dragged you back with his forearm secured around your chest and the knife flat against your throat.

“Compromised again Sergeant.” His voice was a whisper against the shell of your ear. “You’re getting sloppy.”

You squeezed your eyes tightly together trying to fight off the arousal you felt aching between your legs. It’d been there since he’d first walked through the training room doors wearing a compression shirt that showed everything off in just the right way and sweatpants that hung dangerously low. With each press of your bodies together- each struggle for control it’d only intensified turning into a burning heat you needed so desperately to satisfy.

“I’m tired.” You offered in weak defence. The hard muscle of his thigh sat temptingly between your legs and you slowly let yourself relax in his grip, allowing you to subtly grind against his leg.

“Tired eh?” Price brought his thigh up pressing harder into your clothed cunt and drawing a whimper from your lips as you met him halfway. Maybe not so subtle then. The knife tumbled to the floor as he settled his hands on your hips helping assist in the slow grind of you against him. Your chin dropped towards your chest at the sensation, thighs burning with the effort of keeping you upright. Price slid a hand beneath your jaw forcing your head up and turning it towards him so he could bring your mouth to his in a heated kiss. It was lazy on your part, your body sluggish from the training you’d gone through, and when you pulled back your eyes remained half-lidded.

Price smiled at the look. “You truly are a sight for sore eyes darlin’.” 

The compliment did nothing but fuel your desperation. You arched further into him, nose brushing the skin of his throat. “I need you.” It was a quiet plea. A beg for him to relieve you of your own painful arousal. His hand slid beneath the band of your sweatpants teasingly and you thought for a moment he just might, but his fingers skimmed across your clothed cunt with barely-there touches. 

“Now?” He applied the slightest bit of pressure and you squirmed, hips rocking against his hand desperately. “Where anyone could see you?” You nodded pathetically, grinding yourself downwards in search of something more but it wasn’t enough. 

“Fuckin’ minx.” Price chuckled as he hauled you off his lap, repositioning you so you were laid out flat on your back. He slid your sweatpants and underwear down to your ankles, revealing more of you to his hungry gaze. Every inch of your skin was intoxicating, each scar and blemish stirring something in him.

His cock was heavy in his hands and unsurprisingly hard as he angled it against your soaked entrance. You grabbed for the back of his neck nails scraping against the short hair there as he entered you. It wasn’t slow by any means and it burned with every inch he forced forward but it was good. So good. Your eyes fluttered closed nails digging into his scalp as he rocked against you. It was rough, needy almost. His fingers dug into your sides pulling you in, each thrust opening you further.

“I was worried about you.” Price confessed on a particularly hard thrust that had your eyes rolling back into your head. “Bloody bastard should have never touched you.” His voice was thick with emotion, a sound so rare it had your eyes blearily finding his.

“Wasn’t your fault-” You whined attempting to lift your head up but failing miserably as he fucked you harshly into the mat. Clumsily you sought out his hand squeezing it reassuringly, the touch the best you could offer when he was filling you so completely. Price seemed to understand though. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, his beard scraping against your skin. 

“Won’t happen again yeah?”

There was a sureness to his words, a casual confidence that left no room for argument. Although- you certainly were in no position to argue as it was. Price somehow sensing your impending orgasm soothed a hand down your sweaty face, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled down at you. “Go on love, I know you’re close.” His words and the look on his face were horribly tender, a startling contrast to the way his hips snapped against yours, rough and without mercy.

Your legs tightened around his waist drawing him closer to you as you came. Price didn’t slow in the slightest bit. If anything he picked up in pace watching the way your eyes flew open. Overstimulation drew you up onto your forearms, one hand shooting out to steady yourself on his shoulder.

“John!”

He chuckled the sound lost in the skin of your neck. Each drag of his cock felt like heaven and hell all at once. The overstimulation was bringing you back up to that previous peak quicker than you could form the words for. It didn’t help either the way he continued to thumb your clit, drawing his thumb in lazy circles and delighting at the pitiful sounds it drew from you.

“You gonna come again, love?” You nodded chest heaving with the effort of drawing air into your poor lungs. Price nipped at the junction between your neck and shoulder smiling. “Good.” He continued rutting into you, the slick sounds of your cunt dragging him back in obscene in the empty training room. At this point, you were halfway into his lap and each thrust imprinted the shape of his cock to your insides leaving you a stuttering mess of his name.

Exactly how he liked you.

Your second orgasm was stronger than the first and had you clenching around his cock almost painfully. Price cursed lowly slowing his thrusts to help draw it out, until you finally collapsed against him, legs twitching and breaths coming in short puffs. He lifted you slowly off him and you sighed in relief. His cock brushed against your stomach coated in your slick and still leaking precum. Lazily you reached between your bodies intent on finishing him off with your hand but he swatted it away.

“On your stomach love. Ass up.”

The fucked out haze of your mind swirled curiously trying to process his words. You lifted your head searching his eyes in confusion. “Sir?” You asked voice shaky, looking every bit the fucked out mess you were. 

Price couldn’t help the sick satisfaction he felt at being able to reduce you to such a state. “C’mon Sergeant,” He eased you up and then pushed you onto your stomach, your face pressed uncomfortably to the mat. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

A/N: I’m honestly not too happy with how this turned out but it’s been sitting in my draft for like a month lmao. As always though thank you so much for taking the time to read this mess- have a lovely lovely day

[acradelius]

please do a pajamei skin mei X M Reader morning smut with Reader who LOVES Mei's thighs

"-A Large Side Of Thighs, Please"

Fandom: Overwatch / Overwatch 2

Pairing: Mei-Ling Zhou ("Mei") x Male! Reader

Rating: Lemon [🟡] - (NSFW!)

Warnings / Mention Ofs: Minors Do Not Interact With (MDNI), Implied Established Relationship, PajaMei! Mei, Male! Reader, He/Him Pronouns Used For Reader, Somnophilia - (Not Exactly Sure If This Pertains To This Specific Piece, Moreso Just Adding It For Safety), Grinding, Humping, Thick Body / Thick Figure Enthusiast / Lover! Reader, Mentions of Stretch Marks And Dark Spots Upon Thighs, Thigh Job - Receiving! Reader, Cum Mess

Word Count: 855 Words

Taglist: @masterofpuns

It didn’t necessarily matter that the articles of clothing didn’t really match each other besides some common colors. The tank top was a common, low-cut blue tank top. Next, the white, long sleeve sweater that had the logo of the Summer Games- which (Y/N) wasn’t completely interested in and could only describe it being like the Olympics in such a way- that was worn over the tank top. Then there’s those soft, blue fleece pajama pants that were adorned with the small, cartoon style polar bears across the fabric. Wrapping the whole sleep outfit together were those fluffy slippers that were designed to look like a Yeti. (Y/N) couldn’t understand how Mei managed to make the mix-matched outfit look so damn good, but you wouldn’t find him complaining, especially not whenever Mei was waking him up by rubbing her thick thighs against his now raging morning wood. 

There’s a soft, husky chuckle that leaves his lips, his eyes briefly opening but are quickly to close them again while scooting closer to her. “Good mornin’ to ya’ too, babe~” Partially chapped lips plant soft kisses amongst the exposed skin of Mei’s shoulder, hand brushing across her clothed hip down to her outer thigh. (Y/N)’s fingers brush aimless patterns amongst her clothed thigh, occasionally groaning due to the sensation of her thighs and lower ass pressed firmly against his erect cock, shifting her hips to rub against him. It wasn’t necessarily often that the two of them had the ability to wake up like this, whether it was due to Mei’s erratic work schedule or that the need to urinate was much stronger and couldn’t wait much longer than the next five minutes, therefore getting to wake up next to a gorgeous woman and in an intimate manner was definitely an experience to wake up to. 

Those polar bear decorated pajama pants are eventually taken off of Mei and discarded aimlessly onto the floor, her panties following not too long later. “-Lemme show ya’ how much I love ya’~ Lemme show ya’ how much I love ya’ thick body, especially these thick thighs of ya’~” (Y/N)’s lips brush against the skin of Mei’s inner thighs, leaving a trail of wet, open mouth kisses that have warm, lingering sensations. It didn’t matter that skin upon her thighs had a variety of stretch marks and dark spots, that there was much more flesh to her than just a couple of handfuls. He allows his lips to brush amongst every square inch, lips lingering just a tad longer more at every imperfection that Mei would occasionally complain about. (Y/N) couldn’t deny that he was completely in love with her, especially those small things that she considered imperfections that were kept hidden until it was just them, like receiving an extra, special gift amongst the holidays. 

“(Y-Y/N)!~” It’s a soft whine of his name that escapes past Mei’s lips, her brown eyes peering up at him through those eyelashes of hers, her voice just barely being heard between the chorus of skin slapping against skin and (Y/N)’s grunting. “There’s no need-” Her words get interrupted by the soft whine that he manages to withdraw from her lips, chuckling softly as he once again guides the tip of his cock to drag along her swollen, sensitive clit. “-to be so rough!~ To tease me, s-so much!~” Hands briefly move from their resting positions on her outer thighs to realign his cock to be nestled within the plush, sticky warmth of her thighs, settling right on top of her wet, needy cunt. “Being too rough?~ Being too much of a tease?~ Why, I think you’re trying to make some false accusations, Mei~ I’m simply just loving my favorite woman in a very energized way~” 

It’s almost overwhelming, the sensation of as if his nerves are on fire, causing a sheer layer of sweat to cover his body. There’s a shudder that courses throughout (Y/N)’s body while he proceeds to slam her hips against Mei’s thighs, using her thighs enveloped around his cock as a practical pocket pussy, but he wasn’t being too selfish, having a thumb slip through her squished folds to rub her clit in vigorous circles. It’s almost too warm for him, it’s almost too wet for him, but he can’t help but want more. How the rhythm of his thrusts begin to become erratic and sloppy, his words just turning into primal grunts. A loud, guttural groan leaves (Y/N) as he hunches over while the grip upon Mei’s thighs tighten, hips sputtering in a few final thrusts as (Y/N)’s orgasm finally reaches him. His cum smeared within the enclosed space between Mei’s thighs and against the top of her cunt. Despite trying to catch his breath, (Y/N) couldn’t help the grin that stretches across his lips. Spreading Mei’s thighs apart he looks down at the mess that they’ve created, what a beautiful sight. “Give me a couple of minutes to recoup and then I’ll make sure to give you a proper fucking, alright, babe?~"

[jellieclogs]

october media recap ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

i love music, movies, tv, podcasts, games, books, and more. here's a recap of things i watched in october 2023!!

music ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚

i've been really into more indie blues type music as autumn comes to a head, my playlist autumn girls this is for you has a bit more songs that i really associate with this season. anyway heres the list!

mitski - my love mine all mine

mitski - i'm your man

these two songs are phenomenal, as is mitski's album "the land is inhospitable and so are we" i actually wrote a brief analysis on my love mine all mine as a love song and breakup song. the feeling it invokes in me is second to none, what a beautiful song.

olivia rodrigo - lacy

sixpence none the richer - kiss me

jane remover - search party

searows - used to be friends

phoebe briders - moon song

iron & wine - flightless bird, american mouth

mazzy star - fade into you

sting - shape of my heart

yeule - software update

yeule - sulky baby

taylor swift - "slut!"

rachel chinouriri - maybe i'm lonely

emile mosseri - jacob and the stone

i actually listen to this song to fall asleep, but i can assure you that i also cry every time i watch those videos on the internet with this song playing in the background. it perfectly encapsulates a feeling of hope and loss. beautifully done. minari was a phenomenal as a (real) movie lover, i love when movies have tracks like this that so clearly stand out from the soundtrack and score.

movies 🎞️✮⋆˙

i haven't watched as many movies as i'd have liked in october, it has been an emotional month to say the least. but, now im on anti-depressants so our regularly scheduled slaying is back. movies will be rated a 1-5 star based on how much i enjoyed it! and NO NOT EVERY MOVIE IS FROM THIS YEAR OR EVEN THIS DECADE <3

talk to me (2022) ★★★★

pearl (2022) ★★★★

the invisible man (2020) ★★★★

child's play (1988) ★★★★

doctor sleep (2019) (fucking insanely good) ★★★★★

bodies bodies bodies (2022) (so camp??) ★★★

call me by your name (2017) ★★★★

silence of the lambs (1991) (this is a perfectly made film. argue with the wall!) ★★★★★

and thats about it, i genuinely have been too busy with school to watch as many films, still have not seen barbie or the fnaf movie because im so busy and too broke to go to the movies constantly LOL. however, i will say what my favorite youtube video topics are currently in my honorable mentions section!!

honorable mentions ˙˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

my current fave youtubers or streamers :3

dead meat (james and chelsea constantly demonstrate a genuine love for horror and have recently been branching out to video games amidst the SAG strike! love them and their work so much, they have definitely made me into more of a horror movie buff)

wendigoon (i will listen to this man talk about anything, but he constantly raises the bar with how informed he is on topics. he just likes to talk abt weird shit and thats really neat idk)

supertf (ive been watching this guy for over 5 years he is still the funniest ow streamer out there sorry)

kyedae (she is rlly funny and even though valorant is boring to watch i watch her play mostly, however i LOVE when she does variety or horror its so funny how scared she gets)

jacksepticeye (watching him play spiderman 2 bc i don't own a ps5, BUT ALSO sean just has the best playthroughs of games like this. love his takes on the game!!)

mike's mic (olivia wilde nodding gif like if you get it you get it!)

games im playing right now :3

the sims 4 (do i need to explain this rlly... i have 2000 hours on sims... currently building a tiny town for the new expansion pack :3 pics here)

sun haven (started playing with my bf, feels like stardew valley with a bigger world and more things to do! i HATE the fishing mechanic. it is not for me babes)

valorant (playing occasionally as i am not very good, but i have alot of skins so yipee)

overwatch (i have 1600 hours in the game unfortunately. addiction is real guys)

fall guys (just recently started playing with my friends again, idk why anyone wouldnt want to play this its free and fun. theres a hatsune miku skin in the game like CMON)

genshin impact (im actually really invested in fontaine's story, if i had multiple hours a day to game i would do all the story quests and things but again, im so b u s y. still farming for arataki itto, pls come home)

bloons td6 (i've somehow racked up 60 hours on this game...its so fun...i love it...)

lastly, my october hyperfixation was...

horror movies and true crime!! i watched over 100 hours of movies, video essays, podcasts, and documentaries relating to horror and true crime. i'm officially burnt out of it though, so i will be back next month to once again happily share my interests!! byeee

- jane ⋆｡° ✮

[shewhopats]

Thoughts on Overwatch character designs (Tracer edition)

The energetic and optimistic young lady that the franchise always seemed to be trying to frame as the main character.

Overwatch 1: Orange and blue (complimentary colors) are used to draw your eye to her important aspects. Her orange goggles make you focus on her eyes. The tights emphasize her sleek design. Also invokes the speed and fragility she is known for in the game. But most importantly, it makes you immediately notice her chrono-accelerator (I think that's what it's called). Even if you've never heard of the game, you know that the glowing device is something important. And I love her hair (it always looks ruffled up by the wind as she zips around) and her flicked up collar. The boring browns are kept in the background, so we can focus on what's important. The only things I don't like are the weird fins on her forearms (makes an otherwise sleek design look more clunky) and those plastic-looking crocs (I imagine they are suppose to invoke moon boots, but it does not match well).

Overwatch 2: Most of my original points still stand, and they fixed the awkward forearms and ugly shoes. But I don't like the extra bits of orange added to her fingertips, shoulders, etc. And i dont like the fonts and stripes added to her tights. It makes her design a bit too busy. When I look at her, my eyes are drawn all over the place. They also took away the scuffing you can see on her OG skin, which I thought added character. But worst of all, the made her chrono-accelerator, arguably the #1 aspect of her design and lore, smaller and less noticeable, and put a jacket over some of it. It's also surrounded by some weird white bits, and the blue is more faded and neutral as opposed to sharp and eye-catching.

Overall, I rate her OW1 skin as 9/10. Couple small things I didn't like, but it does an excellent job of hinting at her character and lore.

OW2 skin is just a 7/10. They fixed some things I didn't like, bit also added a bunch of unnecessary details that I feel takes away more then it gives.

[euhemeria]

Anything (Left to Give)

Slowly, longing crept back in.

Fandom: Overwatch Rating: T Category: F/F Characters: Ana, Liao Warnings: N/A Ana does not have a crush, because crushes are for people who are still capable of loving. Also on ao3

Mina is an attractive woman; Ana has always known that.  Even when Ana disliked her, in the early days of the Crisis, off-put by Mina’s stubborn insistence that AI could still be a force for good, she knew that Mina was beautiful, that in another circumstance, she would be just Ana’s type.  It did not matter, then.  There were bigger things to worry about, and she was happily married besides, found attractive in Mina only those same qualities which she so loved in her husband, and those similarities were, she thought, skin deep.

Over time, she came to know Mina, to see that she was a better woman than Ana had assumed her to be, kinder, more selfless, and those things about her Ana had disliked in the beginning, her stubbornness, the strength of her convictions, Ana came to appreciate, to see instead as passion, as something to be admired.  And of course, she was still beautiful—but in the midst of the war as they were, Ana did not care about such things.  Look at that sunrise, Jack would say every morning, trying to give them something to hold onto, but Ana saw only the way the light illuminated the destruction of the previous day’s fighting.  To her, beauty seemed a luxury of the past. 

Even when things got better, when the fighting was wrapping up and they had only a few pockets of resistance left to handle, Ana found that she could not appreciate things as she once did.  All around her, she found reminders of what she had seen, what she had been made to do, and it was difficult to find anything to love in all of that, and even harder to accept that a person such as her could exist alongside beauty, around joy.  Her only bright spot in that time was her family, and even with them Ana felt out of place, as if she were an impostor in her own home.  She was no longer the woman who soothed her daughter to sleep after a nightmare, who could hold her child in her arms and promise that all was well.  She certainly was not the woman whom her husband had married.

Divorce certainly did not make her see Mina any differently.  Love was heavy on her mind, and lust inconceivable.  She was not able to see beyond herself even for a moment.  Although she confided in Mina, it did not bring them any closer, for she was afraid, then, to be close to anyone, and unable to accept any sort of tenderness or affection towards herself—and Mina knew her well enough not to offer any, was understanding but did not treat Ana with the sort of gentleness that in those days burned.

From there, it took quite some time for Ana to come back to herself.  Slowly, she came to accept again that there could be goodness in the world, that there could be any in her, and even more slowly she learned to allow others to be kind to her, to not reject any sort of overture of friendship or affection.  She still felt, often, that what she had been made to do in the Crisis, what had been necessary for survival, had made her a different woman, and still was not entirely certain that she liked whom she had become, but she no longer found herself entirely undeserving of love.

And slowly, longing crept back in. 

So it is that now, after years of knowing Mina is attractive, Ana finally finds herself attracted to her.  There is no more war to distract her, no husband to whom she should be loyal, no fear, anymore, of being known, being loved.  She can see again that there is good in the world, has come to accept even that there can be good in her, be something worth loving—and now, after some time to sit with that, to accept it, she finds that she looks at Mina differently, notices for the first time the dimple on Mina’s cheek when her lips curl into a smile, feels the warmth of Mina’s body next to her own when they are out on the balcony, watches as the juice of a plum drips down Mina’s hand to the delicate skin of her wrist.

It is not like the attraction she felt when she was younger, not the immediate chemistry she felt with her ex-husband, nor the infatuations that came before him.  It does not make her nervous, make her giddy, does not have her self-conscious, overanalyzing each interaction.  It lacks the immediacy, the need, the desperation that accompanied those times she sought out sex as a distraction from herself.  It is something different, something new. 

Longing.

Longing to have a different sort of relationship with Mina, to have lived a different life, such that they had met some other time, some other place, before the Crisis and before their marriages, when they were not the women they are now, afraid of what it is to love.  In that other life, they would be friends before they were lovers, real friends, and she would know just the right words to say to make Mina smile, would do so just to see that dimple.

Longing to overcome her shortcomings, to be able to make herself vulnerable again, enough to take the first step.  As it is, she is scared of that kind of connection, of what it would mean to be more than just colleagues and confidants, of what she would owe Mina, if they deepened their relationship, the honesty and the openness she does not know if she is capable of anymore.  As much as she wants to close that gap between them, to reach out and to touch Mina, it requires of her something she does not know if she can give.

Longing for it to be her skin Mina bites into, not the plum, sharp teeth piercing taut flesh and all that she keeps held tightly inside of her spilling out.  It would be a bursting, a rupture, her very self laid bare for Mina’s consumption.  It is both terrifying and thrilling, the thought of being truly devoured.  She wants it, wants for Mina to tear into her, to rend her flesh and reveal what lies beneath, to taste her and to not care if it is messy, the act of so doing, because it would be worth it, to be able to feast upon her.

But she is not a plum, she is not sweet.

Who would want to taste of her?