#reinhardt x reader

[sapphicxshock]

So. Hear me out on reinhardt-

REINHARDT WITH AN S/O WHO LOVES BITING HIM RAHAGAGAGAGAGARGGRGRGRGGRGR

Sorry anyways im normal abt this man.

The headcanons are posted here. I hope you enjoy them!

[ya-zz]

Reinhardt and Ana Drabble

Another lil drabble for @colemorrison 🩵

The tank and the support sandwiched you between them, their hands on your back in a comforting manner as they knew that you’re emotions were going haywire.

“Don’t let them get to you.” The man starts, his voice smooth. “We’re still here.”

“And we’re not going anywhere.” Ana speaks softly, her arm nudging you. “We may not be here all the time because of work, but know that we constantly think about getting home and spending time with our son.”

Just the words alone make you tear up. A proper family.

“That means a lot, thank you…” It was hard to hold back the sob that escaped you.

“Of course!” Reinhardt chuckles. “We’re your family now!”

Ana chimes in, her head resting against yours. “You’re our son. You deserve this much at least.”

—-

KOFI

[mrigaaaa]

Married Life

Words: 526

Request: I saw the open requests and wanted to ask for something with Reinhardt, like the Overwatch members, find out that he is married to a younger man, not so young, but more than him, and the reader is just a baker

I just used the original overwatch team for the reactions, and it kind focuses more on the baker side.

Ana:

I feel like it’s very likely that she already knew of you before she was properly told, Reinhardt could barely keep a secret, especially something like this.

He wasn’t the best at hiding it, so wasn’t very surprised when he finally announced your relationship, what did surprise her though was the marriage.

Not that she had anything against it, definitely not. Reinhardt just didn’t seem like that marriage type of guy, glad she was proven wrong though.

Absolutely loves you, will exchange recipes just to experience something new every now and then.

Torb:

He would be the first one to find out, and it’s likely because Reinhardt couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

He’s a little surprised but ultimately congraulated him, wanting to meet his partner sooner than later.

What he wasn’t expecting was someone a bit younger than him, and a baker. (He was in fact quite easily bribed…)

So you and Rein now know that if you need anything, just bring Torb some snacks and you’re set.

Genji:

Slightly surprised in two ways, one that he was into men and that fact he was married, Reinhardt didn’t outwardly show either.

But Genji absolutely doesn’t mind, quickly you might even become similar to a (actual) parental figure to him.

Especially with your baking, he will not argue about anything if he gets your treats.

Loves hearing the stories of your relationship, how you met, what your life was like etc.

Show him the wedding pictures PLEASE!!

Reaper:

Won’t show it but he is shocked that Reinhardt is married, although he should’ve expected it at somepoint.

Definitely tolerates you more than your partner, the baked goods might be playing a massive role there.

Secretly enjoys having chats about being married, there's some security there that he needs. (Until his marriage crumbles, leaving him jealous.)

Soldier 76:

This man almost has a heart attack hearing about Rein’s marriage, while love has little place on the battlefield, you’re not on it.

He 100% has some modified version of the ‘dad talk’ with you and Reinhardt, he means well though.

Sojourn:

Also very surprised, though she very quickly learns that you two are made for eachother.

Another one who loves your baked goods, especially if you make croissants.

She also loves meeting up with you, some snacks and just listening to your stories.

If you have a physical bakery she’ll come by every now and then.

Cassidy:

This man would flirt with you until someone told him that you were married, especially to Reinhardt.

Adores any baked goods you bring over, man is in love with them. Totally comes by your bakery to buy some more.

At some point he tries to make some in return, and they’re… something.

If you and Reinhardt don’t mind he’ll continue flirting, but only friendly. That definitely catches some people off guard.

Mercy:

She is so shocked, supportive, but shocked.

Honestly she didn’t expect Reinhardt to date anyone, much less a younger man.

She won’t turn down your treats though, often enough she’ll bring some of her own to trade whenever she sees you.

Often asks you about Rein, making sure that someone is taking care of him as she knows he isn’t.

[silver-glory]

Reintober

Day 4: Pumpkin

Gender Neutral Y/N

The crisp bite of autumn air nipped at your skin as you walked through the festival grounds, the scent of spiced apples and roasting chestnuts wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The small village square was alive with golden lanterns, flickering candles nestled inside carved pumpkins, and the sound of cheerful music floating beneath the chatter of festival-goers.

And right beside you—a walking inferno of heat and muscle—stood Reinhardt Wilhelm.

Even in the crowded marketplace, Reinhardt was impossible to miss. His sheer size and presence commanded attention, his silver beard catching the amber glow of the jack-o’-lanterns as he rumbled with laughter at something an old shopkeeper had said. He was in his element here—celebrating, indulging, and basking in the joy of the season.

And yet… his focus never strayed from you.

"Ah, liebling," he murmured, placing a massive, gloved hand at the small of your back, pressing just enough to remind you that he was there. "Is it not glorious? The food! The games! The crisp air! I feel like a young man again!"

You barely had time to respond before his gravelly voice dipped into something softer, something only for you.

"But tell me, meine Liebe…" His fingers curled, tracing slow, teasing circles against your back. "What is it that makes your heart race most tonight? The festival… or something else?"

Your breath caught. That tone—low, possessive, dangerous in its intent.

You turned your head slightly, looking up at him, only to find his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours. He wasn’t talking about the festival anymore.

The crowd swirled around you, unaware of the way his touch lingered, how his body heat seeped through your clothes like a promise.

His thumb skimmed your hip, a feather-light touch that sent heat curling through your core.

"Tell me, liebling." His voice was thick with amusement, but there was an edge to it now, something more than teasing—something possessive. His fingers pressed, lingering, waiting.

Daring.

"Shall I find out myself?"

A shiver ran down your spine, but before you could answer—before you could fall deeper into the deliberate torment of his hands—a shout from the crowd pulled you both back into the present.

The Pumpkin Lifting Contest.

Reinhardt's smirk was slow, dangerous.

"Ah… a test of strength! How fitting."

His touch didn’t linger, but the promise in his eyes did as he pulled away, striding toward the circle of gathered spectators.

The pumpkin in question was monstrous. Easily twice the size of the others, its deep orange skin gleamed under the festival lanterns, looking almost too heavy for any sane man to consider lifting.

But Reinhardt was no mere man.

And as he rolled his massive shoulders, flexed his fingers, and sent you a knowing glance from across the firelit square—you knew, without a doubt, that this was still part of the game.

He wasn’t just lifting that pumpkin to win.

He was doing it for you.

To remind you exactly who he was.

And exactly what he could do to you.

A boisterous cheer erupted from the gathered crowd as villagers placed their bets, laughing and nudging each other as competitors struggled to even budge the behemoth gourd. A stocky farmer had managed to roll it a few inches. Another man attempted to lift it but nearly tipped over in the process.

Then came Reinhardt.

You didn’t miss the way the energy shifted as soon as he stepped forward. Towering over everyone, broad and imposing, he exuded raw confidence—the kind that sent a thrill down your spine. He stretched, rolling his massive shoulders, the movement making the thick muscles in his arms flex beneath his rolled-up sleeves.

"Ach! A fine pumpkin indeed!" He grinned down at you, then winked as if he knew exactly where your mind was about to go.

Oh, he knew.

Then, with no hesitation, he crouched down, gripped the enormous gourd—and lifted.

Effortlessly.

The crowd gasped, then roared in approval as he hoisted it above his head, biceps bulging, forearms tightening as if the weight was nothing to him. His fingers dug into the thick rind, veins popping along his forearms, his thighs flexing with sheer power as he held it high for all to see.

The whole festival erupted with applause, but your own breath caught for a different reason.

The way he looked—his raw, effortless strength, the way his muscles strained just enough, his sheer size dwarfing everything around him—sent your thoughts into dangerously wicked places.

You swallowed hard. A different kind of heat bloomed beneath your skin.

And then his eyes found yours.

The moment stretched too long. He should have been basking in his victory, playing up the crowd—but no, his gaze was locked onto you, heavy, deliberate, and laced with something darkly knowing.

Slowly, Reinhardt lowered the pumpkin, setting it down with a satisfying thud. You looked away, suddenly feeling very small as he made his way back to you. But instead of pulling away, he stepped directly into your space.

The festival noise melted away.

His voice dropped, rough and teasing, the deep bass of it vibrating through your bones.

"I could hold you just as easily, liebling…"

His fingers skimmed your hip. Not a full touch, not yet—just enough to send heat curling through your veins.

"Would you like to test it?"

Your breath hitched. The weight of his words, the undeniable challenge in them, sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

His smirk widened. He knew. Oh, he knew.

Reinhardt, for all his bravado, took his time watching you.

Savoring you.

The playful glint in his blue eyes darkened with something heavier, something that made your thighs press together involuntarily. His smirk deepened at the movement, but before you could say anything—before you could catch your breath—he was already reaching for your hand.

"Come, meine Liebe," he rumbled, his warm palm engulfing yours. "There is still much to do! And much more for me to prove to you, ja?"

Oh, he was enjoying this.

The shift in his grip—from playful to possessive—was subtle, but you felt it. Felt the way his fingers curled around yours, firm yet easy, as if daring you to pull away.

You didn’t.

Instead, you let him lead you toward the next game, the crowd parting effortlessly for him. People greeted him, cheered his victory, but Reinhardt barely acknowledged them.

His attention was locked onto you.

The pumpkin carving table was already set up, a handful of villagers chipping away at their own designs, chatting over cups of mulled wine. The air was thick with the scent of cinnamon and burning wood from the nearby bonfire.

You reached for a carving knife, but Reinhardt beat you to it—grabbing the largest blade on the table with a devious smirk.

"A warrior must always choose his weapon wisely," he declared, holding up the knife with exaggerated reverence.

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a laugh. "It’s a pumpkin, Reinhardt. Not a battlefield."

His grin was all teeth. "Ah, but you see—precision is key in both war and art! Perhaps you should guide me, hmm?"

Before you could protest, he moved behind you.

Close. Too close.

Heat poured from his body, a furnace against your back as his massive arms caged you in. His hands, so much larger than yours, settled over yours—his chest pressing against you, his breath warm against your temple.

And just like that, the game was forgotten.

He wasn’t paying attention to the pumpkin.

He was paying attention to you.

His fingers tightened, adjusting the way you held the knife, but his touch lingered.

"So delicate," he mused, voice thick with something dangerous, slow, and teasing. His thumbs brushed over your wrists, then lower, skating along your forearms in a way that had nothing to do with carving.

"So small… so easy to handle."

Your grip on the knife faltered. The pumpkin was the last thing on your mind now.

And Reinhardt knew it.

He pressed closer, his body a solid, immovable wall against your back, his hands sliding lower—just grazing the hem of your sweater.

Your breath caught.

The blade in your hand wobbled.

His chuckle was sinful, deep and indulgent, the sound reverberating through your spine.

"Careful, meine Liebe," he purred, his lips hovering just beside your ear. "Wouldn’t want to make a mess."

You weren’t sure if he was talking about the pumpkin…

Or you.

And judging by the way his fingers curled, teasingly, against your bare skin—he knew exactly what he was doing.

Your pulse was still hammering in your throat by the time you somehow managed to finish carving the pumpkin—or at least, you had made an attempt to.

Because while you had been focused on keeping your hands steady, Reinhardt had been focused on you.

The heat of his body still lingered, phantom touches burned into your skin where his fingers had wandered. The teasing rasp of his voice still echoed in your ears, that low, indulgent growl playing on repeat in your mind.

"Wouldn’t want to make a mess."

He knew exactly what he was doing.

And worse? You wanted more.

The festival continued around you, but the warmth from before had changed. There was a tension beneath Reinhardt’s usual boisterous nature now—a heat, a hunger just barely restrained beneath the surface. You could feel it in the way he guided you through the stalls, in the way his hand never left you.

A palm at your back. A squeeze at your hip. A slow drag of fingers up your arm, as if he was memorizing the shape of you.

And when the two of you finally found yourselves near the bonfire, you finally found a moment of privacy. The crackling flames cast flickering shadows across his broad frame as Reinhardt turned to you with something wicked in his expression.

"Ah, liebling," he murmured, reaching into a basket of smaller pumpkins. He plucked one—round, warm, fitting easily in his massive hand—and offered it to you with a smirk that sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

"A gift for my greatest treasure."

You giggled, shaking your head. “A pumpkin, Reinhardt? You shouldn't have.”

His arm hooked around your waist before you could take a step back, pulling you flush against him. A sharp inhale left your lips, swallowed by the solid heat of his chest, the feeling of his strength coiling around you like a knight safeguarding his most precious prize.

And he was not subtle about it.

The festival was still in full swing. Anyone could see.

And he did not care.

"I wonder, meine kleine Kürbis…" His voice dipped, the cadence intimate, slow, sinful. The words brushed against your ear, warm and deliberate.

"Would they notice if I touched you here?"

The first graze of his fingers against the inside of your thigh was feather-light. Barely there. But deliberate.

Your breath hitched.

You felt his chuckle more than heard it—deep, satisfied, smug.

"So responsive."

His fingers stayed there, teasing, dangerous in their patience.

You were out in the open. The firelight flickered. Laughter, voices, music swirled around you.

And yet, the only thing you could focus on was the way his touch burned through your clothes, the way his body caged you in like he was daring you to challenge him.

Daring you to stop him.

But you didn’t.

And his smirk?

It said he knew exactly how this night was going to end.

The festival spins on without you, voices rising in laughter, the scent of autumn thick in the air. But for you, the world has narrowed down to a singular force—Reinhardt.

You can feel it before he even speaks. The shift in the air, the weight of his gaze burning into you, the way his fingers curl just a little tighter at your waist.

Then—his mouth ghosts your ear, his breath hot and wanting.

"Come with me."

His voice is husky, low, threaded with something dark and unshakable. A command. A plea. A promise.

You barely nod before he moves.

His grip is firm, possessive, guiding you through the maze of stalls with effortless certainty. You weave past carved pumpkins and forgotten cider mugs, the flickering lanterns casting shadows against his broad frame.

And then, suddenly—you are out of sight.

A sliver of darkness between wooden stalls, tucked just behind the festival but still close enough to hear it.

Close enough to be caught.

Your back meets the rough grain of a wooden post, the faint scent of hay and autumn spice wrapping around you. But the only thing you register is Reinhardt—towering, caging you in, eyes molten with want.

"Mine."

The word rumbles from him like thunder, low and absolute, vibrating through your bones.

He presses closer, chest solid and overwhelming, trapping you in place.

"Say it."

You barely have time to draw breath before his mouth crashes against yours—hungry, consuming.

It’s not a kiss. It’s a claiming.

Heat floods through you as he devours, lips parting, his beard scraping against your skin with every desperate, greedy movement. His hands are everywhere—skimming your waist, palming your hips, fingers digging in as if to mark you through your clothes.

The festival noise is still there—faint laughter, the distant strum of a fiddle—but it is meaningless.

All you hear is his breath, his growl, the muffled sounds he pulls from you with every touch.

His fingers dip beneath your sweater, dragging slow, teasing warmth against your skin.

You shudder.

Reinhardt grins.

"Ah, meine Liebe, you are trembling…" His voice is silk-wrapped sin, a mixture of pride and promise. His hands tighten, pulling you even closer.

His mouth trails lower, hot breath teasing against your jaw.

"But we have only just begun."

His eyes traced over you, slow and thoughtful, the way a craftsman studies his finest work before making the first cut.

"Do you know what I love about autumn, meine Liebe?" His voice was lower now, rougher, the sound vibrating through your chest.

You swallowed, trying to focus, trying not to let the way he leaned in—so close you could feel the heat rolling off him—scatter your thoughts completely.

"The patience."

A pause.

"The harvest is never rushed."

His fingers finally moved, slow and deliberate, ghosting over the curve of your waist, not quite settling, just teasing.

"The best things in life, liebling… take time."

Your breath hitched. His touch never lingered too long, never pressed too far, but that was the worst part. He was testing you, watching you, waiting for you to react—waiting to see how far he could push before you begged for more.

"Reinhardt." You whined, the sound came out more like a plea. Your breathing is heavy. The distant sound of the festival wrapped around you both, but it barely registered. Not when his fingers dipped lower, grazing fabric and skin alike, tracing slow, absent-minded circles.

"So warm," he murmured, almost to himself.

Your hands gripped the stall behind you, fingers curling against the rough wood as you bit your lip, fighting the sound threatening to escape.

Reinhardt saw. He weaved a hand up your shirt, finding a nipple but, to your frustration, gliding over it with the ghost of a touch. You whine.

And oh, he liked that.

"Do you think anyone would notice, meine kleine Kürbis?"

The words sent a sharp jolt of heat through you—not just from their meaning, but from the way he said them.

Like he was already imagining it.

Like he wanted you to imagine it too.

His breath skimmed the side of your face, his fingers still resting on the edge of something dangerous, still not moving any lower, still not touching the places that needed to be touched, though you could feel the restrained strength beneath his grip.

"Not yet," he hummed, amused by your anticipation.

And just like that—he pulled away.

The absence of his warmth, his touch, was almost unbearable.

He knew it too.

Because when he finally stepped back, letting air rush between you, his smirk was entirely too pleased.

"Patience, liebling," he said, adjusting his coat like he hadn’t just unraveled you with a few whispered words. "The best things are worth waiting for."

Then, with one last glance, one last knowing touch to your wrist, he walked back toward the bonfire—leaving you breathless, flushed, and wanting.

Your heart was still racing, your skin still buzzing where he had touched you. And as you watched Reinhardt disappear back into the firelight—broad, smug, utterly in control—you realized something dangerous.

You had never wanted him more.

[rhythm-writes]

Overwatch Fanfic Masterlist

Tickets Please

(Conductor!Reinhardt Wilhelm x gn!Reader)

[bunnyluvx]

first kisses with overwatch characters! ♡

featuring: reinhardt, venture, mercy & brigitte x gn!reader. (all separate)

warnings: minors and ageless blogs dni regardless of content.

tags: fluff | first kisses | holiday themes in reinhardt's section | canon non-binary character | neurodivergent! venture | pebbling | artist!reader | poet!reader | kind of rough kissing w/ brigitte but it's not suggestive/nsfw | second pov | no y/n use

a/n: HI EVERYONE!! i have officially hit over 100 posts and thank you to everyone and anyone who has interacted with my content. thank you to my loved ones who have shown support through the time that i have had this blog, it truly means the world. happy holidays to all who are celebrating around this time of year, and have a good day if you're not!! enjoy some fluff!

date started: 4:15PM, december 12th, 2024.

date finished: 5:03PM. december 21st, 2024.

divider credit: hearts by @isisjupiter, support by @cafekitsune

wc: 2k | ao3

reinhardt ♡

the two of you have known each other for many years. you were in the crusaders together, and fought alongside one another for as long as you could remember. what used to be a crush turned into a deep-set yearning the more time passed by. you swear that no one you have never ached for someone the way that you ached for him, and he could say the same about you. the difference between the two of you is that he was always more vocal about his affections. you are the type of person who shows your love through actions instead of words, and while reinhardt has never hesitated to show you that he adores you, he was far more outspoken about it than you were. there were many times where he was boasting about how wonderful you are, the way that you would dote on him and just how lovely you are. you would get embarrassed and try to quiet him, which only made him laugh and become louder. you're a pair of adorable fools.

when reinhardt mentioned meeting his family for the first time, you were nervous. you knew that the lindholms were people that reinhardt adored, and that there were a lot of them, so you were very intimidated. you wanted to make a good impression and do right by reinhardt, but you had never let him down before. you were very quickly accepted into the lindholm family, and you came the love them just as much as reinhardt does. family is something that reinhardt holds close to his heart, so seeing you get along so well with everyone set into stone that you were the person that he wanted to be with.

it was the holiday season, and you were invited to spend it with the lindholms once again. the moon was lounging in the sky, the stars by its side when you and reinhardt were enacting a story for the children. of course, reinhardt was the knight come to save the day, and you were his royal in distress. you collaborated in narration with him while he battled pillows and stuffed animals, pretending that they were ferocious beasts that kept him from you. he fiercely defeated every enemy that blocked his path with a plastic sword, and when he finally reached you, you laid your hand over your heart and fell into his arms. he spun you around while holding you bridal style, laughter from all parties singing into the air. finally, the journey had come to an end, and the large man dipped you down and asked, "i don't suppose that you have a reward for me, your highness?"

you knew exactly what he meant, and you shook your head playfully at his antics. "but of course i do." you said, then turned to the children, "but should i?"

the tiny audience screeched for you to kiss him. you couldn't possibly deny them, so you leaned in and rewarded your diligent hero with a kiss. there was absolutely no hesitation from reinhardt, returning your gesture like it was the most natural thing in the world to him. his lips were dry, but he was ever so warm. the kids lost it and all began squealing and yelling excitedly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, strong arms pulling you closer to him as he slightly rose from the dip. you both agree that you would have loved to become official much sooner, but that moment was perfect. after all of the longing, there could be no moment more fitting for you to your devotion to each other.

venture ♡

i feel like venture gets really nervous when it comes to you. they don't find themself feeling so strongly about just anyone, so when they realized that they were developing feelings for you, they didn't really know what to do about it. you felt similarly, always tripping over your words when talking to them, laughing a little too hard at one of their jokes or taking note of every detail that you could retain about their interests. neither of you made any moves that were obvious to yourselves, but everyone around you was in agony.

venture's well-known way of showing affection to their loved ones is through pebbling. they'll find something that they think someone will like, and rush to give it to them. some of the overwatch team know this about venture and find it super endearing when they are on the receiving end of their gift-giving, but when they all noticed that you became venture's favorite person to gift to, they started to become suspicious. you returned their generosity by getting them any and everything that you could find that took to their interests, and they were always over the moon about it. they would brag to other members of overwatch about what you got them and talk for hours about it. neither of you are very subtle when it comes to your feelings, so they all figured out pretty quickly that the two of you were into each other and just never said anything.

you had been working on something for a long time, and when you finally finished it, you knew that you had to give it to venture as soon as humanly possible. you were hanging out in their room when you showed them a statue that you hand-carved of the two of you, and to say that venture was excited would be an understatement. they marveled at your creation, gently cradling it in their hands and admiring all of the little details that you added. they talked about the material that you used and gushed before setting the statue aside, opening their arms and blurting out, "I WANNA KISS YOU SO BAD!!!!"

upon realizing what they said, the archaeologist slammed both of their hands over their mouth with wide eyes. they started rambling apologies and you were just as surprised, cheeks growing hot on your face. you tried to console them before taking their hands in your own and telling them, "i want you to kiss me."

surprise spreads across their face, though it's quickly replaced by excitement. their eyes sparkle and they smile widely before wrapping their arms around your neck and kissing you. their lips were soft, a little chapped but you didn't mind, and their kiss was ever so tender. you felt so lucky that of all people, you are the person that they feel safe with. and everyday, they thank their lucky stars that you stand at their side through every adventure.

mercy ♡

poetry has always been the best way that you express your feelings. before becoming official with mercy, you were always telling her that she was the most beautiful, loving, unique soul that you had ever met. not to say that you didn't show your affections through your actions too, as mercy is the type of person who doesn't just want to hear things, she wants you to show it. and you did. time and time again, you helped mercy clean up after a hard fought battle, went out for coffee with her and listened to her when she needed you to. you had proven to mercy that you were serious about your feelings for her, you just like to express it through words.

so, when you finally decided that you wanted to make things official with her, you wrote her a poem. you spent a long time working on it, revising and sometimes even starting something completely new. after everything that the two of you had been through together, and because of how important she is to you, you wanted it to be perfect.

the night that you read it to her, she was smitten. you had become one of the most important people in her life, and hearing you express your deepest, truest feelings to her solidified it in her head that you are the person she wanted. your performance was exquisite, albeit a little dramatic due to your theatric nature, but that's just one more thing that she loved about you. she applauded once you were finished and chuckled, standing before approaching you and holding your hands. "ever the charmer, you are." she muses lightheartedly.

you chuckled and placed a hand on her hip. "am i charming enough for a kiss?" you asked, partially teasing and really not at the same time.

the woman chuckles and taunts, "just charming enough."

her lips felt like magic as they connected to yours. both of your arms come around her to encase her in an embrace, pulling her close to your body as you return her affection. her hands rested on your chest and she gratefully kept against you. you hadn't become official sooner because mercy wanted to focus on her career in overwatch, but the closer that you grew, the more that you showed her that you will always have her back. you came to her when she needed you most, and she always did the same for you. she believes that with you by her side, the chances of ending this war are far greater than none.

brigitte ♡

i imagine that brigitte is the type of person who is very private about her love life, due to one of her interactions with tracer. tracer asks if she's seeing anyone, and brigitte says that she'll tell her later. with that being said, i think romance is a personal experience for her, so she doesn't talk too openly about it. therefore, when you began to grow romantically involved with brigitte, she told you that she didn't want it to be too public. you both agreed to only keep it to you and a few of your close loved ones, and you were alright with this arrangement. so long as brigitte is comfortable, you are too.

this was your dynamic for awhile. around others, all interactions you shared were purely platonic, but when you were alone, you were able to flirt, snuggle and leave lingering touches to your hearts content. it was difficult sometimes, but in the end, it was always worth it to have time with her later on. many nights that you spent together were just sitting around and talking. brigitte has always been an easy person to talk to, and when you are with her, you feel as though you could tell her anything without any judgement. nothing is better than a conversation with her.

it was one of those nights that you shared your first kiss with brigitte. you were talking about the way that your relationship has progressed, and how every day, your feelings for her grew stronger and stronger. she was looking at you like you were her everything, a crooked smile tilting onto her lips. in that moment, no one else existed in her world outside of the two of you. she listened to you talk about how much you adored her, a little pink coming to her cheeks. never has she felt so strongly about anyone, and never has she been so sure that she has wanted something the way that she wants you. while you were rambling, you weren't upfront with what you were trying to say, but you didn't have to. because brigitte knew how you felt. so, she cupped one side of your face and confessed, "i love you too."

you swore that you felt like you were flying the moment that your lips touched. her lips were soft and the pressure was gentle. her hand was warm and rough against your skin, yet cradled you so carefully. so much weight, tension and longing lifted from your shoulders when she finally made her move, and you weren't hesitant to return the gesture. you took her face in both hands and kissed her hard, and her hand came up to hold your face while her lips returned your roughness. you were both finally put out of your misery after so much time spent yearning for each other. you would make your relationship official that night, and slowly became more open about it to everyone in your lives. though, none of this came before brigitte smothered you in all of her kisses and affection.

@BUNNYLUVX ,, all rights reserved. do not copy/plagiarize any of my works or submit it into ai. any and all support is appreciated! <3

[ya-zz]

Could you please do some Reinhardt x male reader smut where the reader is doing pet play with rein and rein calls the reader a good boy while the reader sucks him off? I just wanna be called a good boy by Reinhardt so much hehe.

!! NSFW under the cut !!

His large hand rested on top of your head, his cheeks flushed as he looks down at you.

"You're doing well, my little pet." He coos, moving his hand down to cup your face, thumb brushing over the soft skin of your hollowed out cheek.

Reinhardt groans as you pull back, a small pop sounding as you catch your breath and smile. Teary eyes look up at him before you sink back down onto his cock. The stretch was more bearable now, having already been at it for some time, but Reinhardt was patient, letting you adjust at your own pace.

"That's it..." A more guttural moan escapes him as his head lolls back against the sofa cushion. Both of his hands come up to the back of your head, guiding you, controlling your speed and how deep you can take him.

He fucks your throat before holding you down, his cock twitching and causing you to gag. The sputters don't make him let go, not for a few seconds, and when he's finally ready, he lets you pull back, catch your breath before he pushes you back down again.

"Such a good boy..." His voice is raspy, just audible against the moans that escape you. "Good boy..."

The larger man brushes his hand over your head once again, releasing his control to let you go back at your own pace, seemingly enjoying it more when you play and tease him on your own accord.

He was close, but Reinhardt could sense that you were reaching your own climax too, but little did you know what was in store for you.

"Not yet. Be a good boy and hold it, yes?"

If you got to tease and play with him at your own pace, then he was sure as hell going to do the same but over a longer, extended period of time...

—

KOFI

[senseichaos]

Thigh riding but his leg is huge, hairy, muscly and bare against your pussy. Every time he pulls you to grind against him you can feel the greying (and slightly spiky) hairs of his leg rub hauntingly against your clit. He every so often flexes his large muscles against you as you grind, causing you to jolt in struggle as you attempt to pleasure yourself against him. Though, overtime pathetic tears begin to form as you beg him to guide you more thoroughly. He barks in laughter and begins bobbing his leg up and down against you, holding your thighs as he roughly brings you to a whiny release.

(my partner recently made me play overwatch and I have to say this man...)