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theunspeakablehorror · 11 months ago

Text

Zenyatta x Trans Reader (ftm)

2600 words I wrote this as a gift for @techromancer1179. We love his hands

Mainly fluff and smut a little comfort 🔞

Zenyatta comed through the various emotional states radiating from people in the room only to see that your mental state needed his intervention.

Around the mountain of blankets you had turned into zenyatta leaned in to place a tea set where your head would have been. You grunt in response and stick an arm out of your cocoon to pull in your treasures.

“Sit up Dear. The tea will help.” Zenyatta said, gently bringing your shoulders off the table and readjusting your blankets to ensure maximum heat retention.

You gave him a groggy ‘thank you’ as he returned to cooking on the stove whilst you held the teacup in hand taking careful sips of the hot drink.

While he cannot taste the food, Zen has a sizable repertoire of dishes he can prepare. With your condition in mind, he opts for a simple slice of toast with an egg and two bacon slices.

Placing it down in front of you, you begin to ravage the sandwich like you hadn't eaten in the last 8 hours or the 10 before that. How long had you been working?

You had been in overtime hell as WP:Gibraltar struggled to resume full functionality with less than 100 agents, most of whom were in the field or too exhausted from their last deployment to help.

Zen’s orb of harmony spun to your shoulder as he turned to place another toasted sandwich on the counter. The bulk of the aching and discomfort seemed to wash off like you were in a steam bath. Still not in top shape but at least you looked less like a blanket zombie and more alive.

You stood up briefly to tap your forehead to his as a gesture of a kiss and felt the small current he sent through it and you gave a pleased hum in response.

Genji soon arrived to eat the other plate of prepared food although less ravenously than you had. You could hear them discuss something between them and watch the transfer of a black plastic bag from genji to zenyatta.

You were curious as to the bags contents, but knowing them, it is probably incense sticks or something to improve their meditation space.

Speaking of meditation space, zenyatta offered a hand to guide you along the pathways. The day’s spot was set among hyacinths and lavender buds.

You begin your exercises. Quieting the outside world, relaxing your limbs, and positioning yourself.

Zenyatta sat in the middle with you and Genji on either side of him facing him with a gap between you.

Meditation did well in calming the mind but your body still aches from the excess labor. You were about to go take the hottest steam bath of your life when Zenyatta stopped you with a quick gesture to move towards him.

“I see you are still under physical stress” he begins “I believe I can help with your ailment,” cocking his head slightly while holding that black bag Genji brought him.

You had been dating for a while and yet Zenyatta never seems to initiate sexual encounters. But if the black bag and his subsequent gesture to his room was anything like you thought it might be, Zenyatta has a plan in store for the night's activities.

“That would be greatly appreciated” you groaned as the two of you walked the length of the hall to his room. The room was dimly lit with candles and a table. correction. a massage table was in the center surrounded by incense and oils, now added to with the contents of the black bag.

“You deserve to take a break” he soothed, sliding behind you and reaching his arms around your neck. You sighed at the weight but his metal is always much warmer than you remember.

But, a body-heater was not in Zenyatta's plan. He gently guided you to the edge of the table and pulled his faceplate up and to the side of your face, whispering “I can go as far as you want and get into the muscles you need. Anywhere. Just ask.”

You stared with a dusting of blush at the omnic in front of you who just gave you a free ticket for anything between a normal massage and sensual touching to full on passionate sex.

You were broken out of your trance when Zen stepped into the bathroom and asked you to get undressed to your comfort level. You were debating covering your chest but you had already talked to him in great detail about your gender and held great trust in him. Underwear stays on. You were not sure that Zenyatta knew you did not have a penis. Maybe he had a preference for either. Maybe he wouldn't like you with a vagina. Negative thoughts started to cloud your head and as if on cue Zenyatta gently knocked on the door, “are you alright? I can perform a massage with clothes if you would prefer”

“NO! no. I’m ok. Just--lost in thought for a moment. I’m ready” you replied as though you weren't just on the verge of tears. When you stepped out, Zenyatta had pulled the sheet back and gestured for you to lay face down underneath, though he had turned his head to look away. For now it seemed he would go the traditional massage route, though his face rarely gave away his expressions.

The massage was exactly what you needed as Zenyatta expertly worked through your back that had been bent over various computers and storage boxes for weeks along with your feet which you had been forced to stand on for long stretches that your inserts were not helping with.

You were so lost in the feeling of relaxation that it was now time to flip over. Zenyatta helped with the sheet and helped you shuffle down onto the bed.

“It is not standard to massage the dorsal abdomen. Would you like me to?” He asked, hanging his head upside down over yours. His ministrations on your back had certainly welcomed the idea of a repeat exercise, but Zenyatta had never actually seen your top scars before. What if he didn't like them or he thought less of you.

You tip your head back more to get a better eye to eye look and manage to crack out “Are you sure you don't mind?

He stared at you for a time in silence before you piped up to clarify “My scars from top surgery and I never got bottom surgery so if you think it's gross or weird or something we…we can just leave it here.” You started to cry, digging up all your negative emotions about your body and how you could never be loved. Especially by someone like Zenyatta. Who were you to even touch him?

You startle slightly as his thumbs ghost over your scars in a long, gentle stroke outwards. The metal has warmed up significantly since he began, but you still groaned at the slight touch.

“Dearest,” he began, breaking the silence, “you are beautiful.” His hands trailed upwards to cup your face. “You are incredible and your scars are proof of your strength. Of your resolve.” Tears began to well up and he moved to wipe them away. “I treasure you. Regardless of your physical appearance.”

One hand remained on your face, catching stray tears while the other moved to stroke languidly through your hair. After some time you pulled yourself up to sit, with your legs dangling off the side, and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him tightly to your chest.

He hummed appreciatively and reciprocated the hug, rubbing large circles into your back. His hands trailed down your arms to hold your own as he pulled away. “We do not decide the bodies we are born in. I admire your courage to change and to grow. Who you chose to be is your decision. Trust in me to love all of who you are.”

You reach behind his head and pull him in to kiss the line of his faceplate as a worldless declaration. “Will you allow me to show you my affections?” Ha asked, subtly stroking his thumb over your open palm and leaning to press his forehead to yours.

“I trust you,” you respond, words trembling. “Thank you Dearest,” he said, bringing his hands to your sides. He drew shapes over your abdomen with his fingers, marveling at how the skin dipped and moved against his actions.

His fingers moved lower, catching on your pelvis and following the curve toward your inner thighs. He danced around your core, leaving wispy touches nearby but never close enough. Heat began to rise as Zenyatta continued his teasing excapade, trying to figure out where you liked to be touched and kneely listening to how you would respond with little sighs or catch your breath when he did something right.

You begane to wriggle slightly to get more friction where you wanted, but Zenyatta was quick to grab your thighs and hold them apart. You groan in annoyance and Zenyatta notes the damp area on your underwear.

His fingers moved to your waistband but he remained still, looking at you to ensure your comfort and acceptance. You take a big, calming breath before giving him the go ahead with a small smile.

Your hands also moved to the waistband to help yourself out of them. Zen folded them neatly and placed them on a nearby chair. Looking at the chair you motion to help him take off his clothing. “I don’t want to be the only one naked in here,” you look at him with a bit more confidence. He chuckles, “of course Dearest.” His clothes were folded and placed on the same chair very meticulously before he turned back to you.

Your legs weren't crossed but the hands you were resting on your lap blocked most of his view. He kmelled in front of your pressed knees and asked if he could come in and admire you. You laugh a bit at the strange comment but open your thighs just enjoy that Zenyatta could see the smallest bit.

His hands ran along the undersides of your thighs before they moved inwards to pull their plush slide and improve his view. “You are beautiful here as well,” he coos. “Even if you decide to change. I am sure you will be just as beautiful with a penis. Just as you are with a vagina. I trust you and your decisions. As long as you keep yourself safe.” He chuckles at the end as normally it’s him who will keep you safe.

He worried about the surgery for what it was and not what it did. There could be complications or something could go wrong, get mixed up. And healing after can be a mixed bag. He just wanted you to have the best and safest surgery if that was the path you went down. Maybe he would learn to do it himself, have Angela teach him how.

His hands slid up your thighs and over your pubic mound. Still avoiding your core which had been weeping slightly at his other touches. He brought himself closer to your core, his optics trained on the sight and illuminating your folds in a pale blue.

The anticipation and sight of Zenyatta between your legs was getting you heated. Your hips were fidgeting and you moved your pussy closer to his face to encourage him to do something.

He chuckled and lifted his head from between your thighs to look you in the face and ask, “do I have your permission Dearest?” “I trust you,” you replied in shaky breaths.

He placed one hand on each thigh and placed his thumbs tantalisingly close to your entrance. He used the fingers on his left hand to draw long, broad strokes through your folds while high right hand moved much higher to your nipples.

While he did not have a mouth, he made quick work with both your nipples, making you arch your back into his touch. He would ghost around the areola then pinch and roll the bud between his forefingers . Your favorite move is the slight vibrations Zenyatta produces to calm the abused flesh. It feels like a vibrator on low, maybe lower.

His left hand continues inta broad strokes but the vibration technology would soon find its way to your clit. You jerk at the sudden simulation as he presses his now vibrating thumb over the nub.

His left hand, done teasing your nipples, collects your lubricant which had begun to spill onto the table. He looks at his fingers and wonders if he could find the exact chemical compound in exchange for not being able to taste it as Cassidy mentioned one should do.

Sufficiently lubricated he pushed one finger into your folds and quickly added a second when he found little resistance “You are so relaxed. You are doing well Dearest,” he says in a high tone with a hum of affirmation and affection.

With vibrations along your sensitive walls and on your clit, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. “Touch me more!” you cry out as you feel the knot of your orgasm begin to form.

Anything Dearest. May I?” He pulls you onto his lap with your back pressed against his chest. His hands immediately went back to their work bringing you to orgasm. A flash of gold appeared from Zenyatta as six new hands appeared behind him and began to wrap around your form.

Some toyed with your nipples like zenyatta had done before but now in tandem. Another was gently stroking your hair and moving any loose strands out of your face. Two kept your thighs spread as far wide they could go to give Zenyatta the maximum space to work. The last was rubbing circles on your stomach to keep you relaxed and grounded as you soared toward your orgasm.

There wasn’t an inch of skin Zenyatta left untouched as his gold arms danced across your body. He adds a third finger into your pussy and aims at you g-spot vigerougly, well as vigorous as much as someone like Zenyatta could be.

Your breaths were heavy and the coil was tight, almost, almost ready to snap. He increased the vibrations inside and out before you felt the coil snap and you went tumbling over the edge of your orgasm.

Zenyatta helped you through your orgasm while you moaned out his name. Turning quickly, he grabbed a towel and a glass of water he had prepared previously. “Is there anything else you need Dearest?” he asked in a happy tone. When you shook your head no he asked, “Do you feel more relaxed?”

You honestly do. From his excellent massaging skills to your mind melting orgasm. You hadn't felt this good in months. “I feel amazing,” you sigh in relaxation, “and thank you for loving me.”

“No thank you for trusting me Dearest. With your body and your feelings. I am always here for you if you want to talk about it further or just want to talk about your week.” He listed off, “If you are sad I could tell you a joke or give you a hug.”

While you doubted his ability to tell jokes. He hugs better than any other. A place to talk. One on one. With the love of your life. About whatever you want. Sounds like a dream.

“I would love to Zen”

“Thank you Dearest”

#tekartha zenyatta #zenyatta #zenyatta x reader #smut and fluff #first fic #be nice #i love service top zen #trans reader

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gaycragula · 2 years ago

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can you write male!reader confessing to zenyatta, maybe give some kisses on his face plate (no master/student stuff pls!)

love your stuff!

Snowy Confessions

Pairing: Zenyatta x Male Reader Warnings: Little mention of death (grandparents passing away), very little dialogue Word Count: 1368 Masterlist

The snow crunched under your feet as you walked through the small village. You had heard word one of your old friends was coming through and you were heading to meet them at the entrance. Your jacket sat heavy on your shoulders, the fur lining it keeping you warm despite the biting wind.

Some of the other villagers stopped you to talk to you for a moment. You didn’t mind- you were well acquainted with everyone who lived in the small village. A majority of them were generational, their homes passed down to them from their parents who had it given to them by their parents and so on.

Your grandparents had given you the small home after they passed. You’d seen them a couple times throughout your childhood, your parents didn’t really go far out of their way to see them but, once you were an adult, you started going out to see them more and more. It’s where you’d first met the omnic.

Tekartha Zenyatta.

It was a warm, summer day. You were out on the porch of the home, chatting with your grandparents. It wasn’t unusual for others to stop by for a conversation or even for a quick drink. You had heard news that there was a newcomer to the village, another elderly couple had stopped by and asked your grandparents if they’d seen him yet. It had struck you as odd. No one normally stopped by unless they had family here.

Your grandparents had gone inside to cool down, the summer sun a little too hot for them while you decided to sit outside a bit longer. It was then that the omnic stopped by. He introduced himself, not as his name, no, but as a wandering monk. His voice had this calming hum to it and you found yourself drawn to it.

He conversed with you, asking you about the small village and yourself yet wouldn’t answer any questions you asked with actual answers, only other questions. Despite that, you enjoyed talking with him and you assumed he felt the same since he came back multiple times. It always was when you were visiting, like he knew when you were and weren’t there. You suspected your grandparents were somehow contacting him.

Over the years, you grew closer and closer to him. He had finally told you his name after the fourth or fifth time speaking to him. Tekhartha Zenyatta. The name was familiar and you only realized why it was familiar after he had left. He was THE Tekhartha Zenyatta. You’re not sure how you didn’t realize earlier.

His stays were short lived but they always felt months long and you always anticipated his visits. He’d actually invited you to travel with him a couple times, both of which you politely denied, telling him you’d like to spend as much time with your grandparents before they inevitably passed.

Zenyatta was always understanding and would never push.

The first and only time Zenyatta had ever shown up unannounced was after your grandparents had passed. You’d been organizing the funeral and had been so lost in thought you didn’t hear the door creak open.

It was the first and only time his voice had made you jump, startled you. It was his longest stay as well. The monk stayed with you through the funeral planning and a couple weeks after to make sure you were going to be alright. You’d never been more thankful and you let him know, thanking him almost every day.

He always brushed it off, saying he couldn’t leave someone in mourning. And it was around that time that it blossomed. This little feeling in your stomach that fluttered even at the thought of the omnic. It started off small enough that you felt you could keep it pushed down, maybe it would blow over.

You suppose you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Zenyatta would send you a letter to let you know when he was stopping by. It always contained the day and time he would be there and he was yet to be late. With every letter, the little butterflies in your stomach would flutter about, reminding you of the feeling you were so desperately trying to keep pushed down.

Years later, you were still battling your feelings, in denial. But here you were, waiting by the entrance to the village, waiting for the omnic’s shape to appear in the distance. Your stomach fluttered with those forsaken butterflies and you felt heat rise to your cheeks. You chalked it up to the cold getting to you.

You saw his figure in the distance. Right on time. He met you with an embrace, his metal lining surprisingly warm against the winter chill. The words shared at the entrance were brief before you were leading him back to your home, desperate to get warm.

Once you were comfortably warm, sitting in front of a fire with a warm drink in your hands, you both finally got to talk. Zenyatta told you about his most recent travels. From London to a place in Australia, all the way to New York. He told you of the people he met, the places he went.

Each place sounded unique, with different people, different cultures and mannerisms. It almost made you regret not joining him for his travels. Your face must’ve betrayed your thoughts and his voice brought your attention back to him. The same sentence.

“Would you like to join me on my travels?”

You took a breath, squeezing your mug a little tighter. “I would love to,” you start, pressing your heel into the rug on the floor. “But I just,” you sighed, all but collapsing against your chair. “I couldn’t.”

You thought he would leave it at that, he normally did. Today seemed to be different. “And why is that?” Zenyatta’s voice was quieter than it normally was and it made your heart pound in your chest. You couldn’t lie to him.

The room fell silent as you mulled over your thoughts, trying to find the words you wanted, no- needed to say. You swirled your drink in your mug, watching as it spun gently before taking another deep breath. “I have been denying feelings I know are there. I have tried to ignore them, will them away, and they just won’t,” you start, keeping your eyes downcast out of embarrassment. “I- fuck- I really like you. I couldn’t go knowing I don’t just want a friendship with you.”

You braced for the repulsion, bit the inside of your cheek as you waited in the silence that draped the room again. You never once looked up from the rug that decorated your floor. Well, not until metal fingers cupped your face and urged your head up.

Zenyatta had sat himself on the arm of the chair you were sitting in, his thumb rubbing over your cheek bone with such gentleness you couldn’t help but lean into it. “You do not need to hide your feelings from me,” Zenyatta hums. “For I feel the same way.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you felt relief flow through your body. You pressed a shaky kiss to the palm of his hand before letting out a relieved breath. “I didn’t want to risk ruining what we had.”

He chuckled, running his hand down your neck to rest on your chest where he could feel your heartbeat under his sensors. Your heart was still hammering in your chest as you tried to control it. You reached up to brush your fingers over the back of his head before pulling the omnic down towards you. A gust of air released from one of his vents when you pressed your lips against his cheek plate and you fought the urge to laugh. Seems omnics can get embarrassed as well.

"I would love to join you on your travels," you hum against him, pressing more short kisses over his faceplate. "If you'll have me, of course."

Zenyatta let out another laugh, pulling away from you to cup your face again. He leaned back in, pressing his faceplate against your lips in a kiss. "I would love to have you."

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