Overwatch X Fem!Reader Oneshots

Widowmaker• Sensitive Cravings

(Smut)

Maybe it was her accent. Maybe it was the captivating glow in her eyes. Or maybe it was the lingering tingles her fingertips left across your skin. Whatever it was, it had you addicted.
There was always something special about the sensation of her lips against your neck, something that kept you coming back for more of her. Perhaps knowing that she could not grow attached excited you. A never ending fling that kept the both of you occupied.
Knowing that your body was hers, and hers was yours was enough to remind you it was all worth it. You both knew you were each other's sexual stress toy, but you knew that the first time you let each other explore the other's body.
Each mark left on your skin caused a tug in your heart, telling you that you wanted more, something more sobering; however, you were aware that with her mind captivated, the best you could settle for was the drunken buzz her touch gave you. She was electric, and as far as you were concerned, she was yours.
That was why you found yourself before her door again, only silence trailing from your lips. Still, she could read the tired hunger in your eyes perfectly fine as she had done so so many times prior to this moment.
"You look so damn pathetic." The Frenchwoman muttered, examining your face with her hand beneath your chin. Though such harsh words, your heart spiked.
The buzz from the other night had long worn off by now, and you ready for your new dose. Only this time was different, you felt as though just a buzz was not worthy enough. No, this time you wanted to be fully under her influence to the point where your words slurred into nothing but absolute meaningless untold confessions.
"I absolutely adore it." Her words were merely haze floating about in your skull, covering your common sense and driving you forward into her touch.
     There was a warmth that was generated once her lips were locked with yours, a heat so great that you felt as though you were melting like wax just from being near. That heat followed the palms of her hands as they soothed over your stomach and your sides beneath the polyester barrier that hid your form from her.
Cool air replaced her lips once she pulled back. Though instead of lingering, she instead moved along to a different area of sensitive skin. Her fingertips grazed just below your jaw, over your carotid artery which beat strongly next to your windpipe, trying desperately to calm your body from the excitement that arose from under the Frenchwoman's sharp gaze.
"You're trying so hard to keep your composure. But you're unraveling, aren't you?" Verbally, you stayed quiet, but she could tell by the way you looked up at her that she had assumed correctly. By the shimmering hunger that hid behind her pupils, you knew that's what she wanted. She wanted you to be a mess in her arms, and she would achieve it at all costs.
The woman drew you in, lowering your back onto her satin sheets, her lips following suit of your throat. Her chilling breath forced goosebumps to arise along your skin, taunting you to crave her more. More. Just a little bit more.
You were trapped now, pinned by the lust in her eyes and ready to endow you body and your will to her. Though as foreign as her teeth felt against your neck, you welcomed her warmly, taking in the one chance you had to indulge in her person. This included her scent, her taste, her every sound, and her body which by now was a map memorized by you. She made you feel so guilty, yet so certain.
She was cool to the touch, so much so you could almost vision a frost gliding off of her like a fog. You were blinded by said fog, and she was constantly a reminder of that fact.
"Vôtre cœur n'a pas sa place ici." Your heart has no place here.
It was a painful reminder that you chose each night to drown out, like she had drowned out your troubles with her euphoric touch.
With shameless eagerness, you allowed the being you deemed a goddess to treat herself in your image. She seemed to unwrap you like a fragile glass sculpture, examining you closely to ensure no cracks or dings polluted her precious possession. Even in being exposed to her, you felt as though your heart was becoming freshly infatuated by the yearning yet again.
She took her time, feeling it rude to rush such a moment. Before she could touch you, she needed to satisfy her pupils with your image, like she was teasing herself with the smell of red wine. She then brought the glass of red wine to her lips.
Passionate kisses trailed from the jugular notch between your collar bones down to your naval, a spark of excitement ignited with each moment of contact. Her lips paused over your breasts, hovering briefly to tease your rosy pink buds with the chill of her breath. Even is she was not made for you, and you were not made for her, your curves matched her hands, allowing for her to effortlessly cover your landscape with the trace of her lingering affection.
You had started to feel that familiar buzz in your stomach, that guilty pleasure you craved, the sensation that only she could implant into your nerves. She was going to get you drunk off of her aurora tonight.
It was only after she left your chest in tingles that she continued her trail downwards, between your expanding ribcages and over your heavily pulsating heart. You yearned for her to hear it. She didn't have to listen, you didn't want her to. You knew she couldn't.
As you glanced down to the captivating woman, you could see your heartbeat flickering beneath the skin, next to a deep red mark that resembled the outline of the Frenchwoman's teeth. She had not bothered to hear it, but she could at least acknowledge it was there, and that it was for her. At least in that moment it was for her.
Her hands scanned your hips, fitting over the bone as she neared your sanctuary.
"Il a été trop long depuis ma dernière adorée tu, ma chéri." It has been too long since I last worshipped you, my dear.
Just as easily as she had pulled you into her mystifying heart of hearts, she had swept away your troubles. In an instant she had morphed your pains into explicit bliss.
"No one can touch me like you do." You caught a glimpse of her golden irises, shinning in pride from between your legs at your statement. It was no secret that she could make you lose your mind, sending your body into waves of inexplainable pleasure. Her touch was resemblance to a siren and her song, she knew this much and used it to her advance when you were with her, preferably just the two of you and your desires. You gave her your trust and she stripped you down to pure vulnerability. She had such impure intentions, and you were smitten by them.
What did such a woman see in you? It wasn't the fact that you were so captivated by all that she was, it was the fact that you understood her needs. She did not care for when you mumbled words of love to her, she only wished to hear words tangled in moans and groans of satisfaction. Rather than 'I love you', it was simply 'more'. She didn't want to hear about how you felt for her, she only wanted to hear about how you wanted her to make you feel. She was captivated once discovering that you simply desired the mind haze as well.
    Your head felt as if you were spiraling down into a drunken mess, however the sensation was of ecstasy rather than misery. Each movement against or inside your sensitive cavern sent another melodic moan to rise up out of your throat, encouraging your sexual lover to push your limits slightly further each time. She had you in a high, denying you the ability to come back down each time she slid her fingers back to further explore your insides. The same fingers of which she had you wrapped around, in the moment both literally and metaphorically.
     Her lips backtracked up the same path they had went down, up your naval and over currently perked and sensitive buds. She hesitated briefly to spare a slight amount of attention on them, driven by the noises you made only for her. Once she had made her way back to your jaw, you felt her teeth prick at your skin, her breath dancing up over your cheek. She knew she was about to send you past your limit, and she wanted to see. She wanted to watch your eyes fall back until your eyelids involuntarily closed. She wanted to watch your eyebrows knit together from the overwhelming sensation building up between your tensed thighs. She wanted to watch you bite your bottom lip before a sharp gasp forced your mouth open again, making way for loud moans to fill her ears and praise her on how good of a job she did making you feel like a drunken whore.
     You were never aware of these things you did, you were too focused on the high in the heat of the moment, it was only after said high did your mind clear some of the haze away. However, she liked to point them out to you, compliment you on how sexy you look once she was done with you. So this time was no different.
     When you could start to hear more than just your heartbeat and shaken breath, her voice echoed quietly through your left ear, mumbling all the dirty words she knew would make your face red. Her fingers lingered on the side of your face, gently pulling to move your gaze towards her. Behind the lust in your irises, she could see more, however you both knew she'd say nothing. When you opened your mouth to speak, she dreaded the words she may hear.
     "I love you."
     But those words never came, and what you said instead drew her into you further, urging to expose herself to you, becoming vulnerable herself because she loved what it did to you. She loved the torture in your eyes when you watched how slowly she gave the trust of her body to you. She loved seeing the torture wash away into bliss when her bare skin grazed against yours. Her anticipation was accounted for once she heard you speak in a pathetic, tired, love struck voice.
     "More."
     And in that moment, only for the moment, you were hers, and she was yours.