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unholyplumpprincess · 1 year

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Alright so far my horny thoughts- bc yall asked and are wondering- about Security Breach is

Freddy - Huge praise kink, def service top, absolutely will do anything to make u happy including downloading info on possible kinks you're into

Chica - Def into chunky babes not in a fetishy way but like a "Oops my accidental type" way, possible food play kink, def comforts and shows love through acts of service

Roxy - Possessive af, needs to be adored and worshiped but equally will do so to you, possessive possessive possessive, fear play kink for sure + primal play 😔🤟

Monty - Protective type??? Needs an outlet to get his anger/aggression out on and you'll do p well for that, has a thing for marking territory, def experiences dom drop frequently and needs hella affirmations

This has been PEACH'S HORNY ANALYSIS SUMMARIZED THUS FAR

#princess talks #not including sundrop and moondrop bc i did that the other day augauag #and not including Vanny bc i feel like i dont have all of her/Vanessas lore...yet #Also the big DJ guy is kinda a bop so thoughts on him maaaybe #lmk if tag needed bc im unfamiliar with this fandom so idk if theres a special nsft tag!#my first thiught was #Fnafsbnsft #ooor #fnaf sexcurity breach #bc im funny like that #remember when specialized nsft tags were a thing? miss that #who remembers bendoverwatch and 18andoverwatch #funniest shit loved those tags

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inkbun · 6 years

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Could you do a Junkrat x reader? You don’t have to do this if you don’t feel comfortable with it, but maybe a self-harming/suicidal reader and Junkrat is just now finding this out because he saw you cutting? If you don’t want to do that, do whatever comes to your mind! :)

You got it, hope you’re alright friend. I’m not comfortable writing self-harm, so I did my best to address the topic without the act itself. Story’s under the cut & tagged for triggers. Enjoy!

Junkrat

Words: 1,102

Genre: Hurt & Comfort

Jamison was rarely serious. It was part of what made him so damn alluring. He was a whirling dervish of energy, twitchy and incendiary to a fault. He’d often set little confetti poppers around the hideout, laughing whenever one exploded, showering you or Mako in glitter. Despite the inconveniences his pranks caused, you loved him, nicknamed him Napalm Sunshine.

“Two parts explosions, one part charm, all smiles.” That didn’t mean you stopped struggling.

Junkertown was a rough place to grow up, and an even rougher place to get marooned. You fought against Null Sector during the riot at King’s Row, barely escaping with your life. In all the commotion, you boarded the first transport out of England, unaware it was a one-way ticket to Junkertown.

The boys had found you in the chaos of a Scrapyard fight, offered you a spot with them if you could pull your weight.

In the two years since, you’d adjusted to Junkertown’s cruel landscape, learned all the caveats of long-term survival: Fight for what you take. Give nothing back. Show no weakness.

You wrestled with the last part. Despite the boys’ presence, it was hard to shake the encroaching hopelessness that’d been with you since King’s Row.

It still haunted you—ash and blood, bullets cutting down humans and omnics alike. Flame engulfing the only home you’d known, turning what little hope you had to dust.

Sure, Junkertown had triumphed against the omnics. But for how long? That was the question that spurred you to tears, wrenched you from sleep, made you hurt.

How long before they come for us again? For Jamie and Mako? How long before none of us are left?

With these came a slew of horrid images, the likes of which enough to make you bawl. Instead of the anonymous crumpled victims you’d seen at King’s Row, you saw Mako, who brought you spare scrap whenever he returned from a haul.

You saw lurid tongues of red, dribbling rivers staining the amber dirt.

You saw Jamison, limp against the wheel of his bike, all the love and life and lawlessness ripped from him by an omnic bullet.

Your chest thumped painfully at the prospect. You wouldn’t live without him, couldn’t bear to see violence leashed on the man you loved.

Heart overwrought by the possibility, you scrambled for something to dull the pain. There was no shortage of dangerous tools in the hideout, but most of them were bomb-based and you weren’t going for fatal.

Not today.

Spying Mako’s collection of blades, you stumbled toward it. Hot tears burnt your cheeks, chapped your lips—it’d been years since you’d done this, yet it was all you could think of to make the pain stop.

You reached trembling fingers to grab one when the hideout’s front door swung open. The boys were back from their run—a three-day expedition beyond the Junkertown Limits into Old Omnic territory.

According to Jamison, “the old bots” had some sort of valuable core that could be mined from omnic bones. Despite your protests, they insisted you stay behind and work on the Gatling gun you were developing to replace Roadhog’s scrap launcher.

Mako held a bulging sack of metal in his hand, and Jamison practically buzzed with glee. In all their excitement, they hadn’t quite looked up.

“Darl’, you won’t believe what Roadie and me fou…"

You dropped the knife, but it was too late. Gold eyes slid from you to the object in-hand, realization dawning. Mako set the bag down and advanced on you, presumably to gather the rest of his knives. Jamison held out his metal arm, turned to Mako.

“Give us a minute, will ya?” Jamison said, more solemn than you’d ever heard him. Mako looked between the two of you before nodding with a grunt.

The door shut. You winced, expecting some sort of outburst.

There was none.

Jamison hobbled over, uneven footsteps stopping once they’d reached you. His metal hand flew up to rub his neck, eyes fixed on your own. There was no hatred or anger, just an overwhelming sadness you thought impossible of someone so exuberant.

“How long, _____?” The words were hardly above a whisper. His voice cracked around your name.

“Not for years,” you explained, trying your best to dispel the worry etched on his face. “But the nightmares are happening again, worse this time. And I thought, ‘What if the bots come for Junkertown?’ ‘What if they kill Mako…kill you?’ I couldn’t take it, Jamie, I just couldn’t, and I…”

You dissolved into sobs, face buried in your hands. “…I’m so sorry.”

The next thing you felt was a strong hug, two arms wrapped tight around you. Crushed against Jamison’s chest, you inhaled the familiar scent of dirt and sweat, let your tears wet the space between you. When your sobbing subsided, he pulled away.

You craned your neck to look at him, surprised to see him smiling at you.

“Ain’t no need to be sorry,” he started, roughly wiping a tear from your cheek. “Not your fault those bots threw everything to hell. But hurtin’ yourself ain’t gonna stop ‘em, Darl.”

Logically, he was right. But intrusive thoughts rarely trended towards rational. “I know, but if they get to you or Roadie, I—”

“They won’t. But I’m gonna need your help to fight ‘em off, ______. We can’t win this war without ya.“

The words were so staunch, you almost believed him.

“You guys are the ones with all the bombs,” you quipped, smirking when he waggled his bushy blond brows.

Reaching a hand up to Jamison’s face, you patted his head, content when he hummed at the touch. Bending down, he nestled into your neck and blew a raspberry, beaming when you squirmed away with a laugh.

Jamison kept it up, sooty fingers finding all of your ticklish spots. You squealed, twisting this way and that as the two of you dissolved into a fit of breathy giggles.

He relented at last, pulling his hand away as you gasped for breath. Happy tears crowded your eyes—it was the first bright spot you’d felt in days.

Grinning, he planted a sloppy kiss on your lips. You snorted, wiping spittle from the corner of your mouth. Looking up, you were startled by the depth of emotion in his eyes.

“Yeah well, you’re the one with my heart. Can’t do shit without that, can I?“

It wasn’t an “I love you,” but for the guy who only recently remembered to ask before taking your prototypes into battle, it was more than close enough.

You smiled at him. “Guess not.”

#junkrat x reader #jamison fawkes x reader #overwatch imagines #ow imagines #ow imagine #tw self harm #tw suicide mention #tw weapons #mako rutledge #roadhog #overwatch #18andoverwatch #kyrasecura

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