you won't get rid of me that easily
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"omg this old man is so fuckign hot⊠what a GILF⊠grandpa's getting it... i'm a menace to the retirement homeâŠ" buddy idk how to tell you but calm the hell down. this male character is in his 30s.
junkrat is extremely touchy-feely, loving to coax moans out of you from purely sensual pleasure.
even in public, heâs playful and can barely keep his hands off you. he doesnât mind whoâs watching when he slaps your ass, streaks a gentle fingernail down your spine, or jabs at you for a quick tickle. all the better if he can elicit a squeak or gasp of surprise - which heâll flash a devilish grin at, waggling his eyebrows, giggling with delight.
he is a high energy person, and therefore has an intense sex drive. lovemaking sessions are long, and can range in mood from sweet and intimate to wildly animalistic.
even when you are both working on separate things in different rooms, when passing through your space, junkrat makes an effort to show you his affection and remind you of whatâs to come later. heâll approach you from behind with a kiss on the neck, his firm bulge pressing against your backside.
junkrat is a biter. if you like it and you let him, heâll bite hard enough to bruise, his teeth leaving picturesque marks of possession on your hips, your thighs, your neck.
he is an exhibitionist and loves to have daring sex in public places, excited by the idea of being caught. the riskier the better - even if that means stolen touches beneath the table when eating out, or a quick blowjob around the corner from a bomb ticking down to zero.
his carpet matches the drapes, and when erect, his cock is long and slender with a slight upward curve. he smells of sweat, musk, and gunpowder smoke.
he adores both giving and receiving oral sex, especially when done so casually as foreplay or a tasteful tease. he creates a tantalizingly unpredictable rhythm, alternating between painfully slow and blissfully fast strokes, allowing a brief reprieve of release before returning to the buildup.
although junkrat is naturally a fiery and impulsive man, when it comes to the bedroom, his actions are deliberate, like the crackling burn of a well-waxed fuse. his favorite technique is edging - he doesnât mind how long it takes, as long as the ending is explosive.
he doesnât hold back his moans and shrieks of pleasure, and is famously loud when he comes. after orgasm, the relief and the silliness of it all causes him to fall into a heap of relaxed, joyous laughter, twining himself around you as you both relax.
he loves to cuddle after sex, becoming the warmest possible big spoon, nuzzling the space below your ear and tucking himself against every inch of your body that he can manage.
in a domestic setting, junkrat loves lazy morning sex. youâll often wake to his roaming hands caressing your erogenous zones, his hard member pressed against your ass. if you need to go somewhere, heâll let you out of bed with groans of protest - but if you want to stay in, heâll make it worth your while.
hey all! I'm getting back into writing for this blog, and I have some wips I'm excited about. I just wanted to ask - have people in the fandom been going back and editing their "McCree" content to reflect his name change? Should I do this? Just want to make sure I'm not overthinking it lol <3
So ima simp for Zenyatta so bad- and Iâve been craving a certain side of him. The -ahem- yandere side of him. You donât have to write a fic, but head cannons or a lil drabble on how you think he would be as a yandere would be much appreciated.
Nonnie, you are so valid! Receiving this ask got me really excited to write for this blog again, so I've been working hard on this. I've never (intentionally) written yandere before, so I hope I was able to do this idea justice for you. Enjoy!~
it starts small. you catch zenyattaâs gaze lingering in your direction for an extra moment, just long enough that you notice, but brief enough that you dismiss it. perhaps it was all in your head.Â
suspicion turns to butterflies as his interest in you becomes more pronounced. when he speaks to you, itâs in a gentle, even tone. he makes time to spend with you, often accompanying you for walks in gardens. he recites poetry and philosophical musings, and you can get lost in his lilting verse.
while zenyattaâs voice is soothing, his words are complex and often leave you feeling more dazed than comforted. you get the feeling he knows heâs talking circles around you. when you ask clarifying questions, he laughs, his chuckles light as blossoms on the air.
although zenyatta has a reputation for keeping a cool and effortlessly calm exterior, he struggles to keep himself that way around you. the prana, the life force energy that flows through his body and makes him alive, becomes overwhelmingly frenetic in your presence. he might shake or stutter. this feeling is especially exacerbated by even small inklings of jealousy or anxiety within him.
when it comes to himself, zenyatta also values inner peace and calm, devotion, honesty. he quickly finds that your presence interrupts that balance he has worked so hard to maintain. even when you are not around, his mind swirls with visions of you - your voice, your hair, your scent.Â
above all, he seeks balance, and he knows one thing for certain: your very existence throws him off-kilter, for better or for worse. sometimes he feels devastatingly hopeless at the idea of you leaving him for something different, more suited to your lifestyle, and heâll soothe himself with healing energies. and sometimes he buzzes so vibrantly with joy that you are in his life at all, and heâll bring himself back to the plane of reality with discord and malaise. he occasionally excuses himself to center his feelings in this way. but as you grow closer and he falls deeper into his obsessive love, leaving your side only serves to worsen this imbalance.
when he finally confesses his feelings to you, his words spill out frenetically, as if he couldnât keep this chaotic love inside his body for a moment longer.Â
âI once followed the Iris, thinking it would be my salvation, the only path to enlightenment for my people. I now realize the error in my ways. I should have always been devoted to you.â
one day, in zenyattaâs personal meditation room, you come across a worn leather journal with your name lovingly embossed into the cover in omnic script. Intrigued, you thumb through it. every page spills with written word about you - thoughts, musings, meditations, poetry, even records of little things you said to him that had been mundane, benign. glancing at his tidy shelves, it dawns on you that this is only the most recent volume of several. the earliest journals date back to before you even remember being introduced.
at night, he spoons you protectively, pressing every inch of his body to yours, reciting ancient spiritual poetry until you are lulled to sleep. not needing to rest himself, he keeps watch over you until dawn, wondering the whole time how he is fortunate enough to have you. sometimes you wake with the taste of metal on your tongue, and the thought of his hands in your mouth shivers in your mind.
âi wish to surround myself with nothing but you. I meditate on the image of crawling inside you, of taking up all the space within you until I know you are mine, and I am yours.â
he is remarkably protective of you, and although his face shows little expression, when he is enraged, a ferocious glint appears in his eye. when you talk to another person, anyone he sees as a romantic or physical threat, he touches you gently on the small of your back, barely concealing his trembling.
it isnât long before his protective impulses get the better of him, and he insists on being with you at all times like a bodyguard. sometimes his obsessive needs grow so strong that he might forbid you from leaving his room at the temple, where he can keep an eye on you and know youâre safe.
âi want to know you like I know myself. i will devote every moment i am granted to wrapping myself in your soul, in everything you are, until you have permeated every iota of my being so thoroughly, I can no longer tell where you end and I begin.â
Hello! So I noticed that your last post was posted in 2019, so Iâd like to ask, are you still active and taking requests? Itâs alright if youâre not, just checking!
Hey there! I just wanted to address this - I never mind receiving requests, but I get on and off inspiration for this blog, so it could be a very long time before your request is fulfilled! I canât believe my last post was in 2019 đł but a worldwide pandemic will do that to ya, huh? Anyway, Iâve got some ideas kicking around for fics and request responses that I might start on soon. Thanks for asking!
My friend and I were joking about overwatch ships and came across an interesting combo of Widow and Roadhog (totally not gonna happen irl) but we thought maybe it could start out as a hateful relationship and ending with a hatefuck????? Lmao sorry///
You raise me a funny crackship, I raise you a fic that gave me feels to write. I hope that somehow you get to see and read this, anon!
widowmaker x roadhog | hate sex & death threats | nsfw | 900 words
---
the first time she sees him, itâs through the scope on her rifle. her eye narrows as she considers this junker, too big a target to miss, bumbling about with his loud gun and louder war cries. a criminal with his masked face plastered on posters, wanted everywhere.  if she could feel anything, maybe sheâd feel jealous.  he would be an easy target, caught off guard in this way. all it would take would be a pull of the trigger, a whiff of gunpowder.  a kill, just for the fun of it, just to feel something, anything.  but heâs not her target today.
one night heâs stepping out from the loud heat of a bar, and he sees the shapely, almost spindly silhouette of a woman flying across rooftops. he knows who she is.  international news was once aflutter with her name.  amelie. but in the underground circles, the rumors were that she had become something else since her disappearance, since the brutal murder of her husband. some said she had become an android, others a zombie.  the truth was, nobody knew the truth.  but everyone agreed on one thing: she was a killer.
itâs under a full moon when they finally meet face-to-face. itâs an accident, really.  two creatures who live in the shadows passing in the shadows, in the darkest stretch of a disgusting paris alleyway. she hears his breathing before she notices him.  the struggling, heaving beast of him.  itâs not till sheâs inches away, with a sneer on her lips, that he notices her.
âwidowmaker,â he whispers.
âroadhog,â she says, her french accent curdling around his moniker.
âfunny,â he says, coughing out a soft laugh, âthat neither of us use the names we once did. that the world changed around us, âtil we had to change to fit it.â
she glances over him - all of him. her appraisal is not favorable.  âthe world did not change. i did.â
the air is stagnant between them, but neither of them moves.
âyou wonât see whatâs coming, when i finally come for you,â he hisses, slowly angling his hook so it glints what dim light there is.
âyou wonât see me at all,â she says, before grappling up and out of the alleyway. and he knows what she means.  when she comes to kill him, he will know death before anything else.
but they orbit each other in mysterious ways. in conversations, when her name is mentioned, he stays quiet, just listening. when she hears of another successful grand heist in a far-off city, the threat of a smile twitches on the corners of her mouth. Â
months later, sheâs on a mission, resting in a hidden home base so decrepit she wished talon would have taken her request, for once, to stay in a proper hotel. itâs through the broken-out window of a desecrated building in australia where she sees him again, under the clear night sky, as he sits alone on a rock, or maybe a hunk of metal, and drinks, reminiscing of a world he doesnât know anymore. beneath her crosshairs, he seems almost small and far away, almost peaceful.  she shifts, readying herself for this sweet moment that sheâs been holding out for.  accidentally, she snaps a piece of glass beneath her heel.  before she can blink, a metal hook crashes through the wall, pulling her out by the waist, and sheâs in his grip.
once he notices who heâs holding, notices how cold her skin is in his meaty hands, he barks a laugh in her face. âyou said i wouldnât see you,â he gibes as she struggles somewhat, squirming in the spiderâs trap she laid for herself. she spits in his face.
he wipes his mask off with the back of his hand. he is no longer laughing.  heâs holding her close enough that with another squirm, she notices hardness, and freezes. she squints at him, lip curling, a new understanding of their relationship, of this orbiting, of this magnetism, of this magma hatred bubbling to the surface. she can almost feel the blood coursing through her veins. almost.
âarenât you going to fuck me already?â she hisses. Â
her clothing is a nonissue, discarded, torn, on the sand in mere seconds. he flips her onto the hunk of scrap metal heâd been seated on and unbuckles his belt. his cock is so big itâs nearly intimidating, but she spreads her legs anyway, and shudders with every inch. the way it stretches her make stars burst in her eyes.  she gasps for breath at the pain of it - and at how much she enjoys that pain. âfuck,â she whispers, reaching for a handhold, finding nothing, but the frustration of it fuels her.  roadhog stands, mountainous, above her, not moving, as if heâs enjoying watching her squirm, desperate for him to move inside her. Â
he yanks himself out with little ceremony, before slowly moving his entire length inside her again, grunting in ecstasy. he knew the discomfort it caused, and he loved the power he had over her in this moment.  under the stars, in the cool dead of night, it all seemed very romantic, even as her moans heightened to high-pitched screams for the tumbleweeds around to hear. but even as he took one last plunge into her, shuddering as his blood turned to sweet nectar and he felt his warmth pool inside her cold body, he knew that he wouldnât see it coming, after all.  he wouldnât want to.
So so happy youre back to writing for this blog!!! I love your creativity and all of your stories are so fun to readđđ
oh wow, this means so much to me!!! I always love writing for this blog when I get a chance, real life just gets in the way sometimes! I'm so glad that you like my work, thank you so much!!! <3
Not a fic, but I was very happy to come up with these! I had to do it to my best boy~
zenyatta boyfriend headcanons
zenyatta gives incredible massages, using various pressure point and muscle relaxing techniques to work out all of your tightest spots. he also uses hands-on healing, or a form of reiki, while he rubs your back, amplifying the relaxating and soothing nature of the massage.
he occasionally forgets that you need food, and is absolutely perplexed when you become hangry. but once he realizes what is going on, he immediately makes it up to you with an enormous meal, usually heaps of noodles made your favorite way. Â
his ideal date is taking you for a picnic at a local buddhist temple on a sunny afternoon. he loves to point out the details in the architecture, taking long moments to just be quiet and listen to the world around the both of you. Â
one day he walks in on you jamming out to your favorite pop song. although he prefers to listen to much more relaxed music, when listening to anything at all, he takes interest in this new, upbeat sound. and one day, you walk in on him dancing.  he takes you in his arms and whirls you around the room.
when you express being stressed out, and he strongly encourages daily meditation, and helps you to create it within your routine. even if you fidget, he doesnât mind at all, and helps you direct your thoughts away from self-doubt and negativity. Â
around holidays and anniversaries, his gifts are almost always some variation on a small, intricately crafted trinket he collected somewhere around the world on his travels, or the comfiest sweatpants you have ever worn, the purchase of which directly supported a small commune in a country you have never heard of.
although he claims that he has no smell receptors, he still burns patchouli and nag champa incense almost nonstop. somehow, he smells of it. Â
heâs so good at deflecting any bad mood you have, itâs ridiculous. sometimes his extremely logical responses to your requests and questions are infuriating (i.e., why arenât the dishes done? because nobody washed them).  but once youâve calmed down a bit, he often comes up with the most efficient ways to solve any problems, making any tiff a moot point anyway.
he is fascinated with reality tv, and will often marathon shows like âqueer eyeâ and âthe bachelorâ with you. he seems to genuinely enjoy them and have opinions on the people within them, although once in a while heâll make a comment on the bad acting. âI just do not understand.  If theyâre going to pretend these people are real, why were talented actors not hired?â
heâs not the most physically affectionate, and can be rather insecure about how hard and cold his body is compared to yours. but sometimes, when just enjoying the quiet between the two of you, heâll reach out and grab your hands.  and in those moments, everything is perfect.
Shimada bros reacting to male s/o suprising them with a sybian? Thank you :)
Ok anon, when I got this request I did some research on Sybians and I was really excited to write it! This was my last wip when I fell off this blog last year, so it was the first thing I picked up again. I hope anyone who reads this likes it!
hanzo knows exactly what the sybian is the second he opens the box. he smirks at you.  âI want to see you ride this.â
together he has you help him set it up. he tosses the instruction manual at you and has you read appropriately sexy passages aloud while he unwraps individual pieces. for some of the attachments, he teases you with them, rubbing them on you in mock seduction until you burst into laughter.
for a while you goof around together, which turns into a makeout session that soon turns into heavy petting. he has you take your clothing off and straddle the sybian with the largest attachment it came with. Â
controller in hand, he starts slow, grinning at your arousal and the little sounds you make. then he turns it up all the way.
the sybian is not only vibrating and gyrating but pulsating with you as well - which only makes hanzo grin as you move to touch yourself. he moves behind you, grabs you by the wrists and presses his bulging cock against your back.  tantalizingly, he wraps his hands around your member and slowly strokes it until you canât contain a moan of unbridled pleasure.
his breath hitches as he begins to grind against you, whispering your name against your neck, biting your shoulder as he attempts to prevent himself from climaxing from the sound of your moans alone. Â
his hand strokes your cock faster and faster, until the vibrations from the sybian, his hot breath on your neck, the sensation of it all is too much and you come with fireworks in your eyes.
hanzo reaches for the sybianâs controller, and turns the vibration down to zero. he pulls you off the seat and lifts you into a bridal carry, still standing at attention, grinning like a wolf as you pant from your orgasm. âIâm not done with you yet.â
genji
heâs very excited to have a surprise, but he has no clue what it is when he pulls the wrapping paper off the box and peeks inside. âis this⊠a new toy?â he asks at first, only joking, as if he thinks youâve bought him a game console.  he only removes a few items from the box before his eyes widen with understanding.
for educational purposes, he asks you to watch a few videos of other people using the sybian with him. his fingers tease under your shirt until heâs softly stroking the sides of your waist with his fingertips. his breath is heavy with arousal.
he eases you onto your back and begins to kiss your stomach with a sense of urgency. he begins to unbutton your pants.  you sit up, stopping him.  he looks up to see your mischievous grin. you shake your head no, and point him toward the sybian.Â
you donât need to ask him twice. after watching videos of others using the contraption, heâs excited to see what kind of sensations heâll get from its use. as he settles himself on top of the sybian, you take up the controller.
you start the vibration out slow. genji immediately moans, and begins to touch himself. after a moment, though, he smiles at you through a heavy-lidded gaze, and gestures for you to come closer. when you are standing right in front of him, he finishes what he attempted to do earlier, unbuttoning your pants and allowing your erection to spring free.Â
he cups a hand around your ass and runs his full, flat tongue across the head of your cock before hungrily taking the whole thing into his mouth. surprised by the move, your finger slips, turning the sybian nearly all the way up.  genji gasps, nearly choking on you, before humming with extreme satisfaction, taking you deeper.
the controller falls to the floor as you take his head in your hands, grasping at his hair. his eyes glance up at you with a moment of complete adoration, and he moans loudly as the combination of your taste and the sybianâs gyrations cause him to come, spattering warm, sticky semen all over your legs.
he takes a moment to gather himself, taking his mouth off your cock even as you desperately want more. then he bites his lip, beckoning you closer.  âYour turn.â
Hi, I was wondering if I could request some nsfw with my boy Lucio? Perhaps he comes home after months of being on a mission to find his girlfriend waiting for him in some new lingerie? (Since you don't use y/n... Perhaps, Princess?)
here you go nonnie! Â Iâve been thinking about this one for a while - I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it (:
lucio x reader fic | new lingerie | nsfw | feminine reader | 1,100 words
By the time Lucio comes home, itâs so late, and all the windows are dark. Â He assumes you must have fallen asleep, and creeps quietly into the foyer. Â The floor is lined with little candles forming a path, and a single rose in a vase rests on the little catchall table near the door. Â A note is attached to it with black ribbon, a single word written in cursive: bedroom. Â A smile spreads on Lucioâs face. Â He canât get over how lucky he is to have a girl like you - ever thoughtful, ever romantic.
He kicks off his shoes, then follows the trail of tealights all the way to your bedroom. Â The light is a soft orange red from the glow of the candles scattered over the dresser and nightstands. Â The air is warm and heavy with the scent of roses.
âHey, princess,â he says, seeing your figure laid out on the bed. Â In this dim light, he canât quite make out what youâre wearing. Â His voice is hoarse, tired - he must have been using it a lot tonight. Â Thatâs your honey, always working too hard.
âHey,â you say, a smile in your voice, cheerful and sultry at once. Â He moves closer, then gets on the bed to lay beside you. Â He puts a gloved hand on your hip and his breath hitches in a gasp. Â He hadnât noticed the lingerie you were wearing before - a rosy lace babydoll dress, which hugs your breasts perfectly, and panties to match. Â Thatâs all youâre wearing.
âIs this new?â he asks, grinning, but his breathing is heavy. Â You slide a leg between his and feel him hardening against your thigh. Â His eyes are roving over your body, as if heâs not sure where to start.
âYou tell me,â you purr, teasing your fingers under the hem of his shirt and running it up his chest. Â He hums in pleasure, then sits up to take off his shirt. Â His skin is luscious, smooth, perfectly soft. Â It is the color of twilight in the dim glow of the room. Â He loops a wiry arm around your waist, pinning you on your back in the fluff of the bed, his gaze only for you. Â
He needs no words as he begins to work his lips on your collarbone, bringing small tingles and moans forth as his mouth roams on your neck and finally comes to nibble at your earlobe. Â âIâm so lucky to be yours,â he murmurs, hands on your waist, as he peppers kisses across your eyelids and cheeks, the bridge of your nose. Â His hands find yours, entwining fingers and lifting your hands above your head. Â He moves back downward, kissing between your breasts, and then through the fabric of your lingerie. Â He lets go of your hands and travels down your stomach, eyes closed, as you arch your back toward him. Â âYouâre so beautiful,â he murmurs, taking a moment to admire your skin through the lace, the little marks and textures spattered on you that are completely unique to you.
Continuing, he moves his lips to the inside of your thighs, his locks brushing against the skin there, now kissing slow, more deep. Â He runs his fingers delicately along the bottom of your thighs, catching little squeezes where your legs meet your butt, all while his lips move closer to the center of you. Â He hovers above your groin, eyes flicking up to meet you. Â Then, with a flat tongue, he licks the outside of your lace panties. Â It is warm and wet and you ache for so much more. Â He revels in the sound of your small moans, pausing for a second, allowing you to cool off, before licking the entire length of your pussy once more.
He chuckles at they way youâre panting, the way you beg him with your eyes to do more. Â So he unbuckles the clasp on his pants and shimmies them off, revealing the bulge clearly visible through his athletic boxers. Â He canât help but rub himself for a moment, which drives you wild. Â You sit up and pull him back down to you, bringing his mouth to yours. Â He laughs at how eager you are. Â âThatâs my girl,â he whispers, putting his hand through the side of your panties and rubbing your clit with the heel of his palm. Â The sensation of skin against skin is delectable. Â You buck and pant as you try to get closer to him. Â You want to feel him inside you, to envelop his everything. Â So to give him a hint, you reach a hand into his boxers and grasp at his softest bits.
Itâs his turn to groan with ecstasy, and for a second he gives way, leaning closer into you. Â Then, with a wolfish grin, he slips just the tip of a finger inside you, just enough to pull at you. Â Your hips buck toward him, but he pulls his hand away, smiling as you heave through gritted teeth, eyes and body burning with desire.
Lucio hooks his fingers around the sides of your underwear and slides them off of you. Â A keen, sharp pleasure bolts through you as the wet fabric unsticks from your labia and the cooler breeze of the room rushes against you. Â He then removes his own boxers, tossing them off the side of the bed. Â His member springs out, long and veined, bouncing cutely as he flexes his muscles in anticipation. Â âFlip over,â he murmurs, and you oblige.
Slowly, he enters you from behind, holding your waist with both hands. Â You gasp and moan - itâs as if fireworks are going off inside you. Â Heâs stretching you in all the right ways, and although youâre wet enough that he could just slip inside you, heâs taking his time, reveling in every inch. Â Finally he bottoms out, and he stays there for a moment as you both breathe, hearts pulsing in time. Â Then he reaches a hand around and touches you as he thrusts in and out, slowly at first, and then faster. Â Blood rushes to your ears as the friction of his fingers and his enormous cock combine into one huge bubble of pleasure, swelling in your chest and threatening to burst. Â You both cry out, coming at the same time, covered in sweat you hadnât noticed before, pulsing in waves that throb and ebb. Â
He settles on your back, holding you with his strong arms, as both of you settle into the warmth and love that fills the room. Â When he pulls out, he does so slowly and gently, before laying beside you, looking into your face with eyes that could melt an iceberg. Â He cups your face with a hand as you snuggle into a pillow. Â âNext time,â he whispers with a playful grin, Â âI get to pick the lingerie.â
Welcome to the fandom! Can I please have Brigitte coming home to find her SO trapped under a pile of cats? Thank you!
thank you nonnie! here is a short little brig fic (:
Brigitte never likes being separated from you. Â The missions feel infinite without your warmth, your comforting scent, without your kisses to help her through the day. Â But the only thing she has ever wanted - except for you, of course - is to help make the world a better place the way her father and godfather do, so she endures the distance, calling you whenever she gets a chance, and always hoping to come home with a souvenir that doesnât tell of the destruction sheâs witnessed. Â She wishes she could combine the best of both worlds, but prefers for you to stay home where she knows youâll be safe. Â Her favorite part of being away is when she comes home.
But hereâs what she wasnât expecting when she walked through the door this time: you, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, sitting cross-legged on the worn-in reddish-orange velvet couch which has mysteriously developed tears in the upholstery, a cat curled up on the crown of your head, at least three more in your lap, and several others huddled near you on the couch or floor.
âHi, honey,â you say.
Brigitte doubles over in laughter, dropping her duffel bag on the floor. Â She laughs for quite a while, and you canât help but grin yourself. Â She comes over to you and wraps her arms around you, attempting to sit on the couch, smothering your face in kisses. Â One or two cats spring out of her way, but for the most part they just purr. Â âMin skatt, what happened? Â Where did all these cats come from?â
You scratch the ears of the calico in your lap, who closes her eyes in pleasure.  âWell, you know how I started volunteering at the shelter?  They had become too full with cats, and, well⊠somebody had to save them.  I didnât know how to tell you.â
Her gaze is adoring, and she places a hand on top of yours.  âĂlskling, were you worried Iâd be upset?  I could never punish you for having such a big heart.  Although, Iâm not sure we have the space to keep all of these cuties.â
So over the next couple of weeks, you and Brigitte work together as your own sort of cat adoption service, finding homes among your friends and neighbors for every feline. Â Even members of Overwatch bring home a cat (Pharah brings home two). Â All except one: the calico, which you keep.
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