#scarred!reader

But you were more beautiful for it; all of your strength and perseverance to survive was plain as day, right there on your face. You should be proud of it. You were something to be revered and admired. For Genji, he saw a road to his own recovery through you. If he could make you believe that you were perfect, that the ‘monster’ as you’d whisper with a genuine distaste for yourself in the mirror, was not a monster, but a goddess harnessing more power than she’s ever had, then perhaps there was hope for him yet.  

He has spent countless hours hiding in the shadows. Watching you sleep, watching you eat, shower, and live out your life. He longed to be closer to you, longed to be at your side at all times. But Genji’s own insecurities kept him bound to the darkness. It was when that explosion nearly took your life and nearly took your face, that he realized he needed to muster up the confidence. Confidence enough for the both of you.

You were strong for him once, he’d be strong for you now.

No more cowering in corners daydreaming, dissociating, obsessively touching himself to the thoughts of you and how delicate you are. No more fantasizing about your wanting hips, and willing, warm flesh underneath him. Tight, wet flesh wrapped around his cold metal body, clenching his still human sex. Taking risks, laying down with you in bed so he could jerk himself and smell you at the same time.

There were tears in your eyes. Tears. Your mirror-self caressed your own cheek and neck with shaky fingers, breathed out in a shudder. He steps out from the closet. It doesn’t creak, gives you no warning. He’s dead silent, with the silent steps of the ninja that he is, and you don’t notice him until he speaks.

“Why is it that my scars are beautiful,” Genji asked, “But yours are not?”

Startled, you screamed; short lived when you heard your own shrill cry. You clamped a hand over your own mouth, spun around to gawk at him, now looming in your illuminated room. Genji’s red eyes glared. Scary. A menace of half a man. If only he could control them and make them softer. Change the color into something less threatening. How is he, without words, supposed to convey the sorrow he felt looking in on you hating yourself?

You laughed nervously and tried to protest his comment, but he closed in too quickly. Genji grabbed ahold of your shoulders. Cut off your words before the first syllable could be uttered. He spun you around with such velocity that you shrieked again. He held painfully tight to your shoulders, dug his fingers into your skin. His cybernetic hand was searingly painful, near breaking.

“Genji... what’re...”

“Look at yourself,” he pleaded. He was desperate, there was a strange crack in his deep, robotic voice. Genji’s eyes narrowed, homed in on the newly softened burn scars still shiny, and somewhat seeming healed from the fresh application of Mercy’s personally cultivated balm.

It was an illusion. The deep wrinkles, permanently inflamed red skin--raised higher than your healthy skin--would be back in full force before your head hit your pillow for sleep. You reluctantly listened to the impassioned colleague at your back and looked at yourself-- even If only to avoid looking at Genji and into his intense burning red eyes.

He remembers a time before your incident when you held his face during one of his most soul breaking meltdowns. You, like an angel, brought Genji back from the brink and assured him that he was one of the most handsome men you had ever laid eyes on. Stronger than any man you’d ever known, because he was still there and taking each day one at a time. He’d never met such sincere kindness, never felt it like he did then. Not even the seasoned doctors and hardworking scientists who rebuilt him and saved his pitiful life were ever as compassionate and empathetic as you were.

Now he knows that you’re capable of being so many things. The lovely, fragile flower inspiring calm and intense admiration, and the strong brick wall capable of withstanding fire. From that day on, all he could think of was you. All he could dream of was you. Leagues better than the nightmares that horrified him and reminded him of the event that led him to be the glowering half human he is. Even if he still felt tortured by the thoughts and dreams that you inspired, it was still better than the thoughts of bloody revenge that used to plague him.

You rubbed your shoulder as he finally set it free, pouting at him through the mirror. He set it free only to grab ahold of your chin and force your face to the right side baring your scars in all of their glory.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly.  

“Genji-- what are you doing here?” You had yet to find it within yourself to say thank you.  

It was as if you hadn’t asked the question, as if you weren’t trembling against him. “If you think yourself a freak, then what am I?” Genji caressed your cheek, glided bent fingers over the shiny bumps, traced the grooves that led into your neckline. He held onto you like that for what felt like forever. He held onto you like it was pertinent that he memorize every line, every shape.  

By the time Genji was done the steam had completely cleared from the mirror. Your gaze shifted down as you watched his attention fade away from your scars to your robe that slipped open ever-so-slightly. A ‘V’ of dewy skin seemed to make his eyes glow even brighter. Intense much in the way they’d become in the heat of battle. Drops of water rolled down into your cleavage, tickling your skin and mesmerizing Genji.  

It’s not as if you and Genji are strangers. You often take it upon yourself to sit with him whenever possible. At breakfast, lunch, and dinner. On the long Orca rides into places you’ve never been to. He’s not often good for conversation, but you like that. When he did choose to speak, it felt special; Genji doesn’t converse with just anyone. Above everything else, he was one hell of an agent to have on a mission. He’d saved your ass more times than you could keep up with. You never found a reason to argue with having a brooding, angry guardian angel dropping in from unknown places.

Much like he had just then.  

You were scared; it showed in the way your breasts heaved. A nipple peeked out from underneath the fuzzy fabric, erect and inviting. He took the invitation with vigor. You squirmed. Tried to tear his hand away, but it was no use. He was locked onto the breast over your heart. His hold changed sporadically between groping that teetered on the edge of nice, and groping that had you clenching your teeth in pain. He wasn’t mindful of his own strength yet, didn’t know just how bruising his cybernetic touch could be.

“Genji,” you pleaded and gripped his wrist. “You’re hurting me... just-- slow down...” It was all happening too fast. The question of how, when, or why he was in your room at such a late hour was beyond importance at that moment. You’ve not been without great respect for the ninja's resilience and killer skill, but you’d never quite thought of him in that way. Then again you never thought of anyone on base in--that--way. In the midst of a crisis that’s the furthest thing from most agents’ minds.

His fingers tugging at your nipple. His heavy, metal shrouded breath in your ear. The small gyrations, his hips moving subtly against your ass had you thinking of him in--that--way. It hit you like a hyper train, took your breath away. It’d been a long time since you’d been with a man. Genji was a bad boy, unlike any other partner you’d ever been with. And truthfully looking at your face, your horrid self-esteem had you in the belief that you never would be wanted by a man again. So on some deep, sick level, the unwarranted desire was somewhat welcome and revealing.  

Perhaps it was the need to feel sexy, or maybe it was the sense of owing Genji something for all the protection he had provided you over the missions. Or the assassin pressed against your back that was frightening and exhilarating a the same time. But you didn’t scream, and you didn’t throw elbows or smash your head back into his own. You’d probably end up hurting yourself more than him anyway. Way to give yourself a concussion.

“Your heart, it’s beating so fast.” His flesh hand--strong, still white-knuckled gripped on your shoulder--slowly moved to wrap around your waist. He held you firmly and flush with his chest. “Mine is too,” he confessed.  

Your robe, lazily tied, was easily untied and thrown open. You were completely exposed to him, insecurities and all. His hands roamed, explored all over your body, reached down low ghosting over your sex, slipped between your thighs. They found their way back to your breasts, not quite full up on them yet. No matter the difference between flesh and metal, each hand did work the same. Your nipples raised, pebbled. Your body became one long plain of gooseflesh. Deep down you warmed, became hotter and hotter, melted and became wet with slick.

Though, the fear still remained. And it showed through the tears that streamed down your face. Your head that was perpetually shaking from side to side, it was clear that you were unsure of the events that were unfolding. There was something uncontainable, explosive about Genji. Having your body in his eager hands felt like skirting a dangerous line.

“We should really--ah--take a breath, Genji... let’s--” His cybernetic hand rushed down and cupped your pussy. He pressed two fingers between your wet folds, thumbed your clit. Your back arched, and you gripped the counter for support, legs weakened and head spinning. “Let--let’s get some tea, and, and.. talk.”

Genji was no longer interested in talking, just small praising. Gruff whispers of how pretty you are, and how proud he strongly feels you should be carrying the scars that you do. All while his fingers work deftly along your labia. He plays and teases with the skill of a playboy that he used to be. Not all of his old life has been lost to trauma and time. He takes his time blindly massaging you and spreading your juices until he abruptly shoved two of them inside you. Pumped them in and out, fast. Circled your throbbing clit and reached in deep with a growl, stroked your g-spot with too much pressure. Sharp pressure that had you throwing your hips back into him in an attempt to get away from it.

You groaned out your discomfort. “Genji...” You shake your head from side to side. You wanted to try to plead with him again. Ask him once again just to... slow down a little, think about the abrupt intimacy he’s forcing upon you without any regard to future consequences or whether you’re ready for it or not; was he ready for it? It’s no use, your mind’s too glazed over with the fog created from the mixture of pain and pleasure going on inside of you. Unable to form the proper words, your gut knowing they wouldn’t matter anyway.

To Genji, your reservations sounded as if you were fighting to deny yourself something that you deserved. You deserved the pleasure, you deserved sweet, sincere compliments from someone who understood you. He knew all too well what it was like to be stuck in your own head, tossing back and forth all the possibilities, what you could have done differently, how your life would be forever changed due to something that you can’t control, can’t change.

You fell over the counter, hand braced against the mirror. You gasped, air and voice caught up in your throat as you came, hard. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream. You felt totally out of your mind but it felt good, really good. Like you floated for a fleeting moment, too full of fuzz to stay on the ground, and then sank at the same time into thick, warm, soothing water.

Genji released his modesty plates, the hiss of steam startled you back into reality. You’re completely grounded and not submerged in anything soothing. In fact, you're blanketed by panic.“Genji! Seriously, wait a moment--” Ignoring you, he threw up your robe, exposing your backside. “Genji, we’re moving too fast, I like you but--”

“Shh,” he cooed. “Let yourself have this pleasure.”

Before you could finish your sentence Genji pressed his bare, hard cock to your entrance and thrust inside. His hips met your skin with a harsh slap. He tore through your walls, opened you up, and stayed fully sheathed for a moment just basking in how heavenly you felt hugging his length so very tightly. Your body violently shivered in response to being penetrated so suddenly. You looked at yourself in the mirror--much to Genji’s delight--your shocked face looked back at you, mouth wide open.

“Perfect,” he said. “Simply perfect, keep doing that.”

He gripped your hips and thrust into you, squinted his eyes in concentration. You took each brutal thrust with a grunt. He was so strong, he jostled your body and made you lose your hold on the mirror. Genji saw your struggle and pulled you back against his chest. One mechanical arm across your chest holds your chin at an angle that allows him to get a full gander at your scars, at the things he feels connects the two of you at more than a skin-deep level. His flesh hand still locked tightly on your hip, bursting blood vessels.

It seemed that his goal behind getting you to think of yourself in a higher regard bled away into chasing his own pleasure. He stared intensely at your flushed face, your strained neck. Slipped in and out of you at a steady and fast pace. Your skin stung, muscles ached from the strain of withstanding the desperate way he fucked you; like he’d never get a chance to do it again.  

Suddenly, as if watching a tense rubber band snap, he snatched up your hair, curled his hand into a fist at the base of your head and demanded, “Look at yourself.” Having remembered just why he revealed himself, no longer hiding in the shadows, admiring and lamenting over your self-hate from afar. He paused for a one moment, allowing you to take a much needed deep breath. He ground into your ass, his cool metal hips such a stark contrast to the heat both inside of you and simmering across your skin.

“Do you feel that?” he asked in a whisper, his voice falling so low that it near sounded demonic. He looked into your eyes, expecting an answer. The glow of his eyes hurt to look directly at, so you looked to the silver plate covering his mouth instead.  

You nodded quickly. “Yes, yes.” Your voice came out a whole lot hoarser than you were expecting it to be.

“That is thanks to you, to this body, this face, these beautiful scars...” It seemed he had more to say but the words were lost as Genji started to pick up speed again. He speared up into you with reckless abandon, sure that if the drum of pleasure was beating strong within his body, it must be beating in time within yours. He sprinted after his pleasure and quickly found the finish line.

He came inside of you. Sparked panic inside of your chest. As he pulled out of you, seed seeped out hot and sticky. It rolled down the insides of your thighs. Picked up momentum carrying all the way to your ankle. Your lip trembled; you were deathly afraid of getting pregnant. You weren’t on birth control; never saw the point and never had a medical condition that required it.

Very slowly, you turned around to face him; moved like molasses because your body felt brittle after how he treated it. Genji reached out for you. You winced back. He cupped your face. You could smell your arousal on his hand. To your immense shock, he gently, but still forcibly made you look at him.

“We understand each other,” he said. “Don’t we?”