Genji with a female s/o who feels brave and asks if he still had a dick. Genji feels it would be better to show than to just tell ;)

He’d offer you a scientific close-up, completely for the purpose of quelling your curiosity if nothing else. It looks somewhat normal, the black, synthetic skin appears smooth, the head clearly defined, he even has a heavy sack that hangs underneath his cock. You breathe a little too close to it, completely by accident, and the small twitch it gives makes you wonder if it feels the same. Looking up at him, his heated eyes meeting yours as you lift your hand slowly, slow enough to allow him to stop you. He doesn’t. When you grip his surprisingly warm shaft, he moans and you wonder just how this feels for him, just how much you can make him feel. When your lips wrap around him he cries out, bucking his hips involuntarily as you suck deeply. The tang of salt on your tongue has you wondering if he tastes like that when he’s cumming so hard he can’t breathe. Maybe you’ll find out. Purely for science of course.

For the science. Of course.

Blackwatch Santa

zarcake-writes:

Just pretend this was posted on Christmas, ok? Enjoy!

You were part of Blackwatch for a reason. You were the best
infiltrator Commander Reyes had. You could break into any place, get what was
needed, make yourself a sandwich, and then be on your way. You’ve done it
before, which annoyed everyone but you were hungry. You were supposed to be in
jail for theft, but Reyes saw potential in you. So here you were. Doing the riskiest
job, you’ve probably ever done. Delivering Christmas presents.

Keep reading

AWWWWW that ending! The rest was great, too. I enjoyed the part about the sandwich. :3 Funny detail.

How about something with Reinhardt finding some papers by accident that say their s/o has a terminal illness and they’re s/o didn’t want to tell them

zarcake-writes:

alexiela73:

….Why…do you hurt me like this? Just the request made my heart ache. I’ll go a step further.

The day that they told Reinhardt you had been sent to the hospital was possibly the worst day of his life. It was equal and more to the pain he’d felt losing his master and friend, Balderich. To the pain of experiencing the war and watching those he tried to protect die. It was something that held like a claw around his heart, and he’d barely been able to breath.

It was a pain that few could understand, because not everyone loved as deeply or more with their heart than Reinhardt Wilhelm. It was something that he had given to you with the utmost confidence, determined that even if someday he perished in battle, you would surely outlive him.

Except now…now its been a month. The doctors told him you had brain cancer, and that there was a tumor currently residing within your brain. Unfortunately, it’s location is not one that they could reach…they had given the two of you perhaps another week or so, and you’d yet proved them wrong.

A fighter, Reinhardt had thought. You had always been a fighter, and would continue to surprise everyone.

No one can understand how hard its been. Seeing you laying there in bed, with little to no strength to get up. Vomiting daily, sometimes even hallucinating and not realizing who he was…No one can understand what its like to watch, day by day, as the life slowly drains from the person who means the most to him.

How, he often wondered, had they not known before? How had it gone undetected this whole time? The doctors had said that it would have been treatable two years ago, that the tumor was too big. Now though, there was nothing that they could do.

Today you’d managed to convince Reinhardt to go home. That he needed a real bed to rest in, to take a shower and eat a hot meal. Ever since you were admitted to the hospital, Reinhardt had been there with you the entire time, not really leaving the building.

His vehicle had found a home across the street, and hadn’t moved in weeks. It had taken convincing to get him to go, because Reinhardt found every moment with you now to be precious- it had to be savored. But he was tired, and you could read it in his eyes like an open book.

Walking in with heavy foot falls, Reinhardt slowly slid his huge jacket off and hung it on the hook. The home was beautiful and big- It had been a good home to raise your children, and held many memories. It was a home the two of you had built together, and behind each shimmering window pain, every nail in the wall and floor…was a dream.

A dream that you’d both live a long life together, sharing many laughs and tears together. And so far, that dream had been coming true…until this moment. And he wasn’t ready- Reinhardt wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Slowly he trudged up the stairs. For a few minutes he stood, staring at himself in the mirror. Remembering all the moments he’d catch you singing in the shower, or you walking in and laughing as he tried to keep his hair from getting out of control. He ended up taking a shower so hot that his skin burned, stinging as it turned pink but he didn’t stop until he’d stopped crying.

Crying was something he seemed to often these days- no one thought him weaker for it except himself. Reinhardts tears weren’t going to help you, he knew, but with every moment that the possibility of never hearing your voice, never seeing you again nears…it terrifies him and the tears cannot be controlled.

Reinhardt went to lay down after the shower. The bedsheets were cool to the touch, and the bed itself was still made. Just as you’d left it the last day the two of you were here. Almost afraid to disturb it, he weighed the option of just sleeping on the covers but he’d just mess it up anyway.

He ended up laying there on his back once in your side of the bed, staring at the ceiling. It made him feel closer to you…and yet, the emptiness of the bed, the house…held a new loneliness that was difficult to stomach. If you passed…Reinhardt wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to stay here again.

Realizing that another few tears had slipped down his cheeks, Reinhardt reached for the tissues…and realized the usual box of tissues was not on the night table beside him. You always had the tissues on your side of the bed…

After a moment, Reinhardt sighed as he tried wiping at his eyes with one hand. Sitting up, he opened the drawer of the nightstand with the other. Inside was indeed the box of tissues…and he noticed, a few letters.

Reinhardt was not the type of man to snoop. Thus, he almost ignored them as he grabbed the tissue box…until he noticed one of them with the name of the hospital on it, and your name.

It took a moment, his eyes staring at the letter. Slowly though, Reinhardt lifted it up and took out the paper inside. It…was a letter from the hospital to you. It stated it was a matter kept private as per request, and as his eyes scanned the document…he realized it was about the tumor. About the brain cancer.

Which seemed unimportant, until he noticed the date on the letter. The realization as he read it and saw that date…you had known about the brain cancer and the tumor for over a year. The rest of the letters were also from the hospital, giving you updates on your check ups, how it had gone.

Each one described the worsening state of the tumor, and how it would be best if you at least tried a few of the solutions still available. Chemotherapy…. test procedures… there had been options.

You’d known, he thought numbly, since the beginning…and kept him in the dark.

The rage was swift, as was the sorrow as he stared down at the small paper in his hands, his vision blurring. You’d known, damn it, and Reinhardt felt the walls of his world shatter.

You’d known about the tumor and never told him. You’d kept it a secret, and in turn dealt with the burden alone. Dealt with the sadness and fear that this surely would have brought. And yet you’d never told him because you wanted to spare him. To protect him. To continue living that life full of love and happiness without fear or hesitation.

Reinhardt’s heart pounded wildly in his chest, hurting, and he roared into the empty room. As if his cry of agony and misery might relieve him somehow off all these turbulent emotions that kept dragging him down. The tears were like waterfalls down his cheeks as he lowered his head into his hands.

The sobs shook his body, and he threw the letters to the side. It was a betrayal, and yet he understood. He could not fathom losing you though. This was not something that Reinhardt could handle.

Hadn’t he lost enough? Hadn’t he lost enough people? When would it end? When would the people he loved most stop leaving him? Was it him? Had Reinhardt done something to deserve all this?

“Y/n!” he whispered through the sobs, and it was full of anguish. A year ago, you might have had even the slightest chance- and it was much, much too late.

I’ll be all alone again…. Reinhardts mind whispered. I’ll be alone…

Stop making me sad…. 💔💔💔

overwatch-reader-imagines:

You quickly ran through the snow, leaving Genji behind. You danced along on your feet while quickly packing together snow, tossing it as soon as Genji caught up and it hitting his face mask.

You could just sense the irritation and mischievousness radiating from his entire being and you dodged to the side just to miss the snowball soaring past your head.

You grabbed a handful of snow in your bare hands, wincing slightly at how cold it was before patting it down and throwing it, soaring over his head. Genji managed to get three made in that time and one of them hit your shoulders while the other two missed you by an inch.

Your eyebrows furrowed together and you were determined to get one last shot off, grasping a handful of snow to push down. WIth a prayer in your heart you threw it, hitting the cyborg right in his broad chest.

He collapsed to the ground, snow flying up as he kicked up his legs dramatically. His hand went to clasp his chest as he gave a cry of fake despair, his lights slowly going out.

You went through the snow to collapse by his side onto your knees, grasping a hand while you blinked away fake tears.

“What have I done?” you said, “He was the best of us.”

The two of you were silent for a few more seconds before he snorted, wiggling slightly in the snow and getting up, “It’s cold.”

“Well, yeah,” you said with a smile while patting off the snow from his butt, “It’s snow.”

Hair dresser reader who cuts the talon teams hair?

overwatch-reader-imagines:

You were sort of a permanent resident at Talon, getting paid to trim their hair and style it for them. You were well paid, much more than your colleagues in other places.

Sombra makes a day out of it, you trimming and dying her hair as she tries out the new massage chair you got recently for them. While it’s colouring the two of you chatter along, both saying a lot and nothing. She finds it incredibly relaxing just to bond with someone in a more casual way.

Reaper avoids you unless it’s late at night, you locking the door and being “officially closed”. You’re quick with him, making sure that he looks good before putting his hood on again.

Widowmaker doesn’t really get a trim, you just brush it out for her and then tie it up. You aren’t sure why she has you do it but you don’t ask questions.

You shave Doomfist’s hair for him, once every few days so it doesn’t get too long. You’re quick and efficient, giving Doomfist ample support for your job there.

While Maximillien doesn’t have any use for your services, he always finds time to drop by. He’ll talk with you, asking how things were going and if you had everything. He’s the one who got you the massage chair, you worrying about the Agents backs when Sombra complained to you.

Relationship hcs with oni genji mayhaps? Like.. How would it devolp

zarcake-writes:

my-ultimate-is-ready:

Do you remember meeting him? His amber eyes flashing as if backlit, the secretive look that overtook his face. You were drawn to him and he to you like a moth to an open flame.

You have your first kiss and he bites you— just hard enough to break the skin. He cannot resist what your racing pulse tells him, what wakes and yawns and stirs within in response to your taste. You pull away and press a hand to your lip, looking at him in mute horror. Fang-like tusks break through his growing smile, your blood on his tongue and staining his lips. His eyes are half-lidded and dazed but a fire burns from within. Vivid and red.

You learn the word: Oni. You feel each sound as it leaves your mouth. O-ni. A demon, a devil. He is a damned creature, supposed to be hideous and troll-like… but Genji isn’t. He’s disarmingly handsome, charismatic, and worst of all, both of his clawed hands have feverishly ensnared your heart.

He won’t let go.

When others look towards him, there is a flush to his skin. He registers as a symmetrical face; attractive bone-structure; smouldering gaze; silky obsidian-coloured hair; well-groomed; human. To you, the illusion of normality is splintered at best. There are times where you still see the mortal you assumed he had been, but there are also just as many times where you look towards him and see laquered horns piercing the soft flesh of his crown.

At night, you fall asleep alone but wake up to find his painted mask on your bedside table. Genji’s strong body curls around you possessively. He never disturbs you and insists its for your protection, you prefer not to think about it in great detail. You are forgiving when he kisses your neck, your jaw, your cheek.

“There are others, like me…” He says against the skin of your face before his voice reduces to a low growl, weakened by a flare of emotion. “They don’t understand what we have. I won’t let them hurt you.”

Oni Genji can come to me anytime

Santa Genji

Genji was thankful for his covered face when the idea occurred to him. A Grinch-like smile curved his facial features. Anyone who saw it would have been suspicious right away. Except, he wasn’t up to no good. Not technically. Genji thought his plan over extensively, then put it out of his mind. To be stored in his long-term memory. Just in case his master got wind of it. Sometimes Genji suspected his orbs did more than ease suffering. Maybe read minds.

Genji was also thankful for once of the communal sleeping quarters of Watchpoint Gibraltar. He wanted to secretly leave each agent a little present like a cybernetic Santa. It would be much easier to leave the presents compared to a situation with everyone in separate rooms. Genji planned to leave each present at the foot of their recipient’s bed while they slept, on Christmas Eve.

On the actual night, he paused at your bed. Knowing you were sleeping in it, unaware of his holiday generosity, made him feel weak. Genji had it bad.
It hit him like a mallet a month ago, made him dizzy. It was when he was sneaking a look at your butt and decided a flare-up of acne was mere decoration, only adding to how fantastic it looked. Genji had looked away quickly, embarrassed. The sleeping arrangements meant every agent changed in front of each other, got naked in front of each other. Everyone was closer for it, but it didn’t make it easier for Genji to take that first step and tell you how he felt.

Deciding on everyone else’s present was a sinch. He wasn’t as emotionally invested in them liking what he got them.

It had taken Genji longer to think of yours. It occurred to him out of the blue while he was thinking of Hanamura. Your present was this: a tiny, green, Japanese dragon pin. Obvious, but he was confident it would remind you of him every time you looked at it.

If you liked it.

No, no. You would. He had to think positive, or he wouldn’t have the courage to do this in the first place.

Genji pictured you wearing it and smiled. He was getting excited for you to find it. You were always friendly towards him, and it was more than just basic politeness. He hoped it was much more.

overwatch-reader-imagines:

You had no idea what Zenyatta was trying to do, seeming to keep floating around the same area as if in a circle. He’d slip away whenever you drew away but would subtly drift back when you came back to that area.

You wondered what was wrong with him, it seemed out of character for him to be shy but you couldn’t figure another reason why he was acting like this. You just peered him for a few moments before leaving to find Genji, hoping that Zenyatta’s student could shed some light on this.

Genji just looked at you, amusement clearly radiating off of him. He leant back for a moment, hands tenting together.

“Have you looked around the area he keeps appearing in.”

You just peered at him for a second before returning to the kitchen, peering at the corner that he showed up in. Right on time, Zenyatta popped up there before you finally looked up at the ceiling.

You felt something burn inside of you when you saw the green and red plant hanging from the ceiling. Things clicked together and your mouth dropped open slightly as you gave a slight oh of realization.

You walked over to him while smiling, leaning over to press a lip against his cool metal cheek. You heard his fans whirl even fast at that, your hand slipping into his to pull him with you to somewhere more private where the pair of you could have a private conversation.

Or so you said but you seemed more interested in pressing more and more kisses on his face, wanting to make up for the time that the two of you had spent pining for each other.

He was just happy to let you shower him with affection, just as happy that you’re near him. You slipped your hand into his, ecstatic to share Christmas with him.

Hanzo’s Cake Problem

You relaxed on your desk chair next to your bed. Hanzo was stiffly curled on it, nauseous and stomach bursting with Christmas cake from the eating contest Genji had challenged him to. Hanzo won, but he was paying for it now.

“He said they installed an ‘iron stomach’ in him and you didn’t believe it?”

Hanzo made a dismissive, grumpy noise, and eyed you angrily; the other eye was smushed into the pillow.

“Maybe you should have believed your brother after the second, whole cake.”

Hanzo stuck out his lip barely perceptively.

“You would not understand. It was a matter of pride at that point.”

As much as you would have liked to contemplate what having an iron stomach meant, since you were vaguely familiar with iron lungs, and as much as Hanzo was hilariously dramatic when he was annoyed, you had to finish this email to your mother. You spun back around in your computer chair to face your laptop, dismissing your princess of a boyfriend. If he was going to vaguely insult you, he didn’t deserve your attention, anyway.

Hanzo rustled the sheets on your shared bed behind you. Then he made short, pouty noises.

“I put the little trash can next to the bed with a bag in it. In case you need to throw up.”

“You have no sympathy,” he accused.

“What!” you exclaimed, spinning back around, “I have more sympathy than you.”

“You are ignoring me,” he said quietly.

You sighed and crossed your arms.

“You know I have to email my mother back in a timely manner or she gets annoyed.”

He didn’t reply right away, so you spun back around again to tap away on the keyboard, packing as many optimistic platitudes and fake politeness into the email as you possibly could. You knew what your mother wanted to hear.
Hanzo made another pouty noise, but you just smiled to yourself. The only reason he was even behaving this way, was because he trusted you not to tell anyone about it.

Day After Christmas

“It’s cold as fuck!” you yelled above the wind whipping your clothes and hair around. It penetrated your layers of coat and sweater and shirt and sapped the heat from your body. Heat that you had spent all day building up inside with numerous cups of coffee and hot chocolate. Then he had the nerve to drag you outside to see something.

At least it will be entertaining. You could bet money on that. Jamie is never dull.

A fireball explodes upwards into the night, pushing back the darkness. You were halfway to panicking and running when you heard Jamie’s cackle. His lanky silhouette danced in front of the flames.

“That’s all this stuff is good for!” he yelled.

What was he talking about, you wondered, looking up at the bonfire in awe. You shut your mouth when it fell together.

The tree had been missing when you got up this morning. And the Christmas decorations. And the wrapping paper you told yourself you’d clean up tomorrow. And everything else Christmas-related.

Oh dear.