so speaking of sexbot mondatta, and since you’ve made me thirsty for reindatta, what if the two of them met before everything?? When mondatta was a sexbot and rein was just a plain ol german soldier. they fucked one night, and were both so mesmerized by the other’s body that they started seeking each other out for kinky sex, feat size queen mondatta. and now, after all this time, mondatta meets rein again, still so big and so gentle and even if now he’s a monk mondatta feels old urges pressing.

The monastery was impressive in and off itself, though all it’s simple grandeur seemed to pale compared to its unique master.

Reinhardt let the curtain fall close behind him, straightening from the awkward crouch the doorways were forcing him into. He smiled, a little uncertain, head tilting towards the Omnic standing in front of the simple desk occupying the middle of the room, hands folded in front of his lap.

“No doors, huh?”

“We have nothing to hide from each other. We are brothers and sisters in the Iris.”

Reinhardt watches him, good eye roving across the faceplate, the diamond grid of teal lights – the accents of pretty gold and tasteful matte white against shining chrome.

He remembers the night well – the night after he lost usefulness of his left eye; when he went out into the seedy underbelly of a city far away from home.

He can’t help blundering ahead, body filled with nervous energy: “You’re still just as pretty as…”

Mondatta doesn’t react for a long time. He is standing still as a statue, back straight, grey robes tastefully draped across the tall, slender body. Reinhardt ducks his head, uncharacteristically shy.

“You don’t remember me. It’s been a long while – and humans do age, unfortunately.”

“I remember you. You had never given me your name, but… I remember you.”

Reinhardt jerks, glancing up with his good eye. Mondatta has stepped closer, body still rigid. Contained. As pretty and unreachable as he looked on TV and the posters and magazines.

Reinhardt’s mouth goes dry thinking of their encounter many years ago. He can still hear Mondatta’s voice fraying at the edges, cracking and warbling all over the place from getting stuffed with cock.

“You are still very… impressive. I had thought my sensors might have played a trick on me, but…”

Mondatta trails off, one hand coming up in an involuntary, small gesture. His fingers halt in the air, before slowly curling into his palm. He had no facial expression and still Reinhardt felt like he was embarrassed.

The leader of the Shambali – the famous Mondatta… embarrassed.

Reinhardt steps closer. He catches the undecided hand before it can be pulled back towards the body once more, cradling it in huge palms. He leans down.

“Nothing to hide from your brothers and sisters, yes?”

Mondatta’s head tilts regally, the light glinting off his golden jaw. He sniffs haughtily – an entirely artificially produced sound, but doesn’t pull his hand away.

“There is nothing to hide.”

Reinhardt dips his voice into a low rumble, fingers slowly dragging across Mondatta’s palm, circling the sensor he finds there.

“So they all know that you’ve got the prettiest little cunt I’ve ever seen?”

Mondatta jerks, lax fingers abruptly curling in and shielding his palm from more advances. He tilts his body away, looking through a small, open window. 

Doesn’t pull his hand out of his grip.

Reinhardt has no idea what the Omnic might be thinking but barrels on either way, all false lion bravado: “I’m not here to humiliate you.” He can see the teal lights flash hot. Once. Interesting. “I suppose I just needed you to know… How much I admire you.”

Mondatta turns his head back towards him.

“Admire, yes?” he says slowly, and there definitely is a hint of amusement in that cool, modulated voice this time. Reinhardt feels like preening and has to stop himself running a hand obsessively through his mane of hair.

“I suppose…” Mondatta mimics, hand moving, curling around Reinhardt’s thick wrist as he steps closer – close enough for Reinhardt to hear the soft workings of his mechanical body. “… I would be lying if I were to imply I hadn’t thought about your… great… endeavors once in a while. Your exploits are well known, even in Nepal, after all.”

Reinhardt can’t help but guffaw.


“Let them hear. Let them hear how happy you are with me. Mein Gott you’re still so perfect.”

He’s fucking in sharp little snaps of his hips, driving in deep, making Mondatta take all of him into that gorgeous golden cunt. He has one large hand curled around the back of the Omnic’s neck, shielding the delicate wires from his madly fumbling fingers.

Mondatta whistles softly and arches beneath him, hands trying to find purchase on Reinhardt’s scarred back. He can feel the ergonomic silicone tips try and fail to scratch him up – and wasn’t that a compliment in and off itself?

His mouth is greedy, dragging wet, sucking kisses along the pristine length of Mondatta’s golden jaw as he pushes in deep, cock spreading the silky walls of his cunt apart and nudging rudely against those hidden, unused sensors. 

He can hear Mondatta’s processors trying to keep up with the new input; scrambling to pull up protocols long since locked away beneath fail safe programs.

“Let them hear,” he rumbles, hips twinging with the enthusiastic action but not enough to stop him from pushing deep, grinding his cock in just to feel the cool, soft texture of the gold mesh lips against his pubic bone – and hear Mondatta cry out for the first time, voicebox scrambling to keep up.

“You… you are… you are incorrigible.” Mondatta is practically whining – that ever composed, cool voice trembling, cutting out half way through. His lights are pulsing, a fast, insistent staccato and Reinhardt feels a stupid surge of affection at the sight.

It was hardly an ideal place; lying on the floor on a hasty makeshift bed made from Mondatta’s robes and Reinhardt’s coat, but it would have to do. He wouldn’t be able to drag himself away from that gorgeous golden cunt even under threat. He wouldn’t been able to stop fucking even if the whole Shambali congregation had migrated towards this little, remote room in the monastery to watch their spiritual leader get fucked like a harlot, wrecked on German cock until he had to forcibly reboot.

“Let. Them. Hear,” Reinhardt growls, laughter rumbling somewhere behind the words, every syllable accompanied by a harsh thrust, cock dipping in deep, spreading Mondatta far and indecently wide on the girth.

He could hear the scrape of one metal heel on the ground – the other was slung around Reinhardt’s hips, holding on as Mondatta curled around him and trembled, pistons moving, vents puffing out steam, inner mechanics working to massage along Reinhardt’s cock…

“Mister… W-W-Wilhelm,” Mondatta whines – honest to god whines right into his ear, soft and breathy and just like the pleasurebot he’s once been: “Please!”

Reinhardt thinks he might die of a heart attack.


replied to your post “Idk if you’d wanna write this but. Please think about Dva teasing s76…”

unf i love how out of it 76 is

I know, right? he’d be sitting there staring at the TV with the most focused expression. Like it’s a mission debriefing and not the 800th time My Little Mermaid.

Just sitting very still and not moving a muscle while D.Va jerks him off slowly. Half way through she pretends to have lost one of her bracelets and dives down under the blanket to breathe warm and wet on his cock and maybe give him a little kiss.

He almost jack-knifes off the couch and swallows his tongue. His cock is pulsing and he makes a sound that’s so sharp and high that the others don’t even associate it with him – just look around in confusion.

He is sweating bullets, fucking scrabbling beneath the blanket, feeling pure, unadulterated terror as he realizes he’s about to come right onto her face and there’s nothing he can do to stop it because he’s not allowed to touch his cock other than to piss.

When D.Va’s mean little hand is there on his balls and digs her fingernails in again and pulls on them, he is fucking thankful. Like he’ll kiss her feet later and lick her toes and let her … oh god. oh fuck you peeps. here it goes, here it comes here iT COMES HOLY POOP FINALLY THE BEGINNING.

So he is so thankful he’ll let her put him in a pretty pink skirt and let her paint his nails and trim his greying pubes until they’re a cute little heart shape just above his cock.

“You’re such a pretty lady, aren’t you?” she coos, hand around her candy pink cock, jerking it and letting him watch how she handles it. “Bet you were real famous with the guys back in the day, eh?”

She crawls between his feet and tugs on the hair at his thighs until his cock flexes and drools a thin sticky stream against his heaving belly. He stares at her, mouth open, slack, helpless as his eyes roam across her body. Her small breasts are moving with her motions; bouncing as much as the little bit of fat they possess allow and he fantasizes about how perfect they would fit in his mouth. How he could suck them in and lave his tongue across those big, soft areolas.

Her bush is visible even above the harness she donned; unkempt and wild – not like she treated him; making him pretty and grooming him just like she wanted to.

He wonders how she’ll sound when he lets his hand slide across her soft, chubby belly and breathe against the fluffy hair in her pits. He wants her to squirm for him and mewl and beg for his cock – 

And then he jerks because she slapped him; slapped his hand and caught his cock with the sharp tips of her nails because she didn’t give a damn and he had been touching what was hers without even noticing.

“You don’t know how to work that thing,” she chides, shuffling forward, nudging her candy pink cock against his balls. “Just let me show you. You don’t know the first about pleasing a lady, so I’ll have to show you. Don’t I?”

“I…” his belly clenches, a denial close to his lips. His cock burns from the slap and his painted nails are digging into the bedding because he is close to coming. He feels like he’s going out of his mind, head feeling fuzzy and hot. “Yes.”

“Yes – what?”

She is nudging against his hole; slippery with lube and barely prepared by her small fingers. He isn’t worried; her cock is slim enough – but for the most part he trusts her implicitly.

“Y-You know better than I.”

She smiles. A radiant, happy grin as she starts to rock into him; giving him little bits of her dick.

“I like you better like this,” she coos at him when she’s gotten into it – really started having a rhythm with which she could comfortably fuck him. Her hands are slapping his thighs and squeezing his ass, and she’s having fun with flipping his skirt up and down over his leaking cock, trying to decide which look she liked better on him. “Lying and taking it is easier. You can do that, at least.”

She is nudging against his prostate and watches him squirm and get brick red. He is scrabbling at anything and everything he can reach and trying to stay quiet as long as possible – until it is not possible anymore and he breaks down; begs her for the permission to touch his cock, to clamp down on it, to let him try and keep his orgasm at bay; and in the end howling and begging for the permission to come on her cock.

“You wanna come? Come like a little whore on my pretty dick?”

“Yes, please, please, oh god please!” He is holding on by the skin of his teeth, his cock dark and swollen and getting the glossy fabric of his skirt sticky.

“No,” she purrs and listens to him sob hysterically and loud – not censoring himself like usual. She wonders who can hear them.