#mostly sfw?

[zombie-doll333]

So I made a crochet butt plug

[kaylamoonbeam]

Junkrat’s 1812 Overture Part 5

Jeez, five parts, guys?!?!? And I’m still not done, this is ridiculous!  I hope you like it! No new nsfw, just a mention of the last part’s nsfw.  

As always, please like/comment/reblog if you like it to feed my writerly soul and keep the writings going!

Junkrat was never very stoic during a mission, or ever, really, but it was bad this time.  Even for someone with as much chaotic energy as Junkrat, this was ridiculous.  He kept pacing, waiting for the mission to actually start and trying not to think about what you were doing.  Or who you were doing.  No!  You wouldn’t be with someone else.  Would you?

He couldn’t keep thinking this way.  Junkrat tried to focus on the upcoming attack, but his brain kept going to you.  Explosions rattled around him, but he still was thinking about you.  Were you thinking of him?  It didn’t matter, he had a mission to rock.  

It was so unusual for Junkrat to be so distracted that even his teammates noticed.  Roadhog sensed it immediately, but by the end of the attack it was clear to everyone.  The pyromaniac was muttering to himself through the whole fight.  Every so often your name came up, but mostly it was just questioning.  Hana noticed that he hadn’t been nearly as competitive as usual, neglecting their rivalry.  Similarly, Zenyatta had never seen Junkrat injured so many times.  Typically Zenyatta would heal the junker a few times per mission as the lanky man was pretty adept at finding health packs when needed.  However, this fight resulted in Zenyatta’s almost constant watch of Junkrat.

By the skin of their teeth, the team succeeded.  No one said anything on the way back to base, but Junkrat could feel their eyes on him.  Even still, his mind went back to you.  Junkrat knew that he needed to focus, but he couldn’t help it.  Despite kissing you and enjoying a great date, Junkrat wasn’t sure about you.  He wanted to know if you were interested, really interested, in him.  The idea that someone he wanted would want him in return was… new.  Junkrat opened his mouth to ask how he should find out if you “like-liked” him when they returned to base.  Instead of asking, he simply limped his way back to his room, trying not to wonder where you were on the way.

When the team arrived you were deep in research mode.  Morrison had begun giving you different responsibilities which were more geared toward research that would aid Overwatch and less about finding the random things members wanted.  You would still do that, you were the girl who could find just about anything after all, but you would be doing more research now.  The announcement that a team was back broke your concentration.  Trying to block out your hope that it was the team Junkrat was with, you viciously pulled your mind away from Junkrat and back to the work at hand.

Your new research was devoted to a topic regarding the streamlining of chemical compounds needed for the healers to do their thing.  You weren’t a chemist, and only the trained scientists would do the actual work for it, but you were able to look through the data and find what was superfluous and what merited further inquiry.  Nevertheless, you were hoping that you might have time to deepen your knowledge and understanding of Junkrat’s frag grenades and pressure bombs.  You couldn’t help wondering how you could improve the man’s attack and defense approaches.

The team had been back for at least a half an hour when you finally roused yourself from your reading.  You’d found some interesting information regarding organic compounds versus synthetic ones, but you still needed to go through it with a fine tooth comb, ensuring that what you presented was in a logical order.  You stretched, quickly pulling your top down to cover your exposed belly.  It was so unfair that nearly everyone at Overwatch was not only gorgeous but also in amazing physical condition.  You knew that many of them worked hard to keep themselves ready for action, but it didn’t change the fact that you were the chubby research girl, no matter how much you liked research.  Moving around, you gathered up your stuff with a yawn.  Finally checking the time, you realized how late it was.  

You rushed back to your room to put your things away and hurry off to get a late supper when you saw him.  Junkrat was slumped on the floor outside your room, peg leg bent and elbow resting on his knee.  He other leg was sprawled across the hall, and his head was in his hand.  He glanced up as you approached and then struggled to stand.  Once there, he held out his hands, taking the bulk of your materials from you and standing patiently while you opened your door.  Junkrat even waited until your told him to come in.  It was then that you finally got a good look at him.

He was a mess: his hair was more disheveled than usual, he looked exhausted, and he had a myriad of bruises and scrapes.  You noticed that he moved carefully, too, as if compensating for some injury or pain.  Taking your things from him, you gazed at him.

“What?” Junkrat looked confused and a little hunted.

“I just… you look tired,” you said, biting your tongue in order not to say ‘and I want to jump your bones, hope you don’t mind,’ to the mix.  That didn’t seem like the right move after just one date.  You colored as you remembered your desperation the other night after you’d spent time with Junkrat.  It had been a few days since, but you were still a little shocked at yourself.  It wasn’t that you didn’t masturbate, it was just that you had never cum so hard on your own before.  That desire had flared up again when you saw Junkrat on the ground.  You set your research materials down, and gazed at him again.  It wasn’t just a sexual desire for him, you thought.

Oh, he was hot, for sure, and you definitely wanted him.  But you had been watching, covertly as you could, how he worked, how he interacted with others.  It was interesting.  You were starting to get to know his moods and emotions just from his facial expressions.  Your favorite was when he was deep in thought and concentration.  When Junkrat was incredibly focused, a bomb could go off beside him and he wouldn’t notice.

“Oh, kinda,” the Aussie muttered, snapping you out of your thoughts, not quite making eye contact with you.

“Do you wanna sit down?” You gestured toward your couch, trying to make it clear you wanted him to stay without coming off as desperate.

Junkrat sat down on the couch and looked up at you.  His expression was so pleading that you immediately sat next to him.  The look in his eyes was like he wished you could read his mind.  You were both quiet for several minutes until finally Junkrat broke the silence.

“I like you, you know?” he grimaced at his own directness.  He knew he wasn’t the most tactful, but he had hoped for a bit better than that, even from himself.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “um, more than just friends, right?” God, you hoped more than friends.

“Yeah,” he agreed with you, and you let out breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“I like you, too, you know.  More than friends,” you saw his eyes widen at this admission.

“Really?” He glanced at you then looked down at his hands.

“Yeah,” you smiled, was he really that surprised?

“Um, you don’t have to say that, just because I like you,” Junkrat looked like a man trying to figure out where the catch is.  You just steadily gazed at him, wondering how he could think you were only saying it, after… everything.

“I’m not,” you weren’t sure where this sentence was going, “I’m saying it because…”

You paused, the silence stretching out.

“Because?” Junkrat turned to you, his leg jiggling with nervous energy.

One heartbeat.  Two.  On the third you lunged, throwing yourself at Junkrat.  You weren’t sure what you were thinking, but you pressed against him, kissing him.  Junkrat’s arms went around you, holding you as he fell back against the arm of the couch.  You broke off before the kiss could be deepened, suddenly realizing that you had just thrown yourself at Junkrat.

“Um,” you sat back, wondering what to do, “sorry.”

“Sorry?” Junkrat shifted, turning to face you with his whole body.  He took your hand, pulling you to him, “I liked it, darl’.”

And then he kissed you.  And kissed you.  And kissed you.

[kaylamoonbeam]

Ullan, Wendigo Part 4

Alright my dudes, this is the “end” but since there is, like, no smut (what is up with that) there will be an epilogue YAY!  Happy new year!

Things moved quickly after that, although it may not have seemed to for Ullan. The reason for that was because he was being unreasonable. He kept oscillating between trying to protect you and trying to get you to return to your old life. A few days ago you might have, thinking he didn't care for you, but you knew better now. You'd seen the fire, the passionate need of banked heat in Ullan’s blue eyes. So, you drugged him.

While he slept and healed you went to the Krenshaw estate. You were expecting… well, you didn't know what you were expecting but it wasn't both the Krenshaws, father and son, and your own father sitting like an old boys club in the parlor. Old Lord Krenshaw stood when you entered but his son stayed seated, lounging in his chair looking self-satisfied. Your father stood but had the good grace to look a bit ashamed. Looking from face to face you felt your ire rise.

“What have you done? What were you thinking?” You weren't sure who you were addressing, just that you were going to end this before it started. It was your father who stuttered an answer to you.

“Daughter, you know the Krensh-"

“Father, do not waste my time. What have you done?”

“Have you fucked it yet?” Young Lord Krenshaw spat the words while somehow retaining his disinterested appearance, “I need to know if you've been sullied by that degenerate before I agree to anything.”

“What? No, we haven't-" you began before your father cut you off.

“Great, good, then we can continue as planned. Now, child, you know I have wanted to make sure your match was a good one and I think that young Lord Krenshaw is willing to take you in hand.”

You listened, mouth pursed, as you father detailed how he planned for you to marry the Krenshaw boy. He told you that they understood you had to get your wildness or of your system but it was time for you to forget that foolishness and become a wife. To Krenshaw. You opened your mouth to speak but were cut off once again.

“Even though you say you haven't been sullied by that creature, you understand you will undergo an exam to make sure you haven't lied. Girls like you always lie. And you will have to follow certain… guidelines to break yourself of the foolish notions that your mother and grandmother put into your head,” the younger Krenshaw continued, completely disinterested in your reaction.

He outlined his plans for you; that, for the first six months you were to stay confined to the house while he and his father hunted ‘the creature.’ You would then be allowed anywhere on the estate until you conceived. Once the child was born, assuming it was a male heir, you would be sent to a city to be cared for in an acceptable style until your death. If you gave birth to a girl it would be sent away and you would try again. The young Lord Krenshaw made it clear that you were not to become like your grandmother and mother. Finally, he ceased speaking and asked of you understood.

“Yes.”

“And you agree?” your father looked apprehensively hopeful.

“No,” with that you turned on your heel only to be stopped by a pair of men whose job description seemed to include wearing clothes that were a size too small.

It was hard to explain exactly what happened next. Young Lord Krenshaw stood and crossed to you, grabbing your arm hard.

“Don't you walk away from me, bitch!” He spat the words and just as a bit of spittle hit your check there was the sound of the ocean filling in a hole. The windows blew open, the fire roared then died, and then you were standing in the parlor, your father on his knees in front of you, old Lord Krenshaw sitting and looking as though his maker had come for him. And maybe he had, because the two men in ill-fitting suits had toppled backward and young Krenshaw was sprawled on the floor. They were pale and each one was missing his heart. The hearts were lined up in front of you, like trophies, and a huge, black mass was standing in front of the living Lord Krenshaw. You walked forward, and without thinking, placed a hand on the black masses arm.

“Ullan?” he turned when you said his name, his eyes no longer blue but a fathomless black. When he spoke it was as if the sound was inside you.

“My love?”

“Ullan, no. Please, no more. These two men have learned their lessons and that vile waste of space has certainly learned his. Let's go home.”

Ullan picked you up, and as quickly as he'd appeared you were both back in the clearing, just outside the cottage. He set you down and walked away, as if the previous display hadn't happened. As if you had not, just hours ago, been about to strip each other's clothes off and explore each other's bodies. You wanted to talk to him, to check if his shoulder was ok, but you couldn't find him. You could hear him, just around a corner or out of sight, but when you got to where he should be, Ullan was gone and you were left with pensive silence.

This went on for days. You would fall asleep, only to be awakened in your deepest sleep by Ullan laying down beside you. You were never able to wake yourself up enough to talk to or even touch him. Then, in the morning he was gone. Food was prepared and left for you, cores were completed so that you had time to pursue work in your garden or to devote to anything else you wished. But you only wished for Ullan. You wanted company - his company. It was becoming clear, however, that Ullan did not want your company.

Finally you grew so restless and lonesome you packed what few belongings you had come to him with. Ullan had provided so much for you but those things were not yours to take. Taking your things, you began the painful walk back to your childhood home. Tears streamed down your face and you choked back great, wracking sobs.

It was an unfeasibly long walk home, much longer than the walk to the Krenshaw estate and much much longer than the run that had brought you to the woods in the beginning. When you'd left the clearing the wind had been cold and now it was raining. Cold, fast moving blobs of rain pelted down, the trees giving little cover from the violent onslaught. Within moments you were soaked, shivering. The walk was torturous, your thoughts ricocheting between your love for Ullan and your broken heart that he did not want you. Finally, coughing and crying, you fell heavily against the door to the tavern.

~~~

Your father fretted, mostly over what Ullan could have been thinking, throwing you out and sending you home in such a storm. Your mother and grandmother knew better. You were terribly sick, so much so the local priest came to give you last rights, just in case. Your father's misguided attempt to help. But it was your heart that was sick. Even as your body recovered, your heart was broken.

One evening, as you sat gazing into the fire, the tavern door opened. You didn't turn, you didn't need to. Ullan say beside you, watching you with earnest interest. Finally, after you let the silence stretch too long, he swallowed, the fire light accentuating the thick muscles of his throat.

“Your grandmother came to me,” he began, “I had no idea you'd been ill,” he looked at you as if that made everything alright. For your part you said nothing. What could you say?

“She said I should come but I told her it was a ter-”

“Why are you here?” you interrupted him, your voice raw and rough with disuse, “you made it clear you didn't want me around before. So, what… what are you doing here, now?” You faltered at the end, the heartbreak evident in your voice.

Ullan gaped at you, then the whole thing began to unravel. As you listened and added your own input it became clear something strange had effected both of you. According to Ullan, when he set you down outside his cottage, you were covered in blood from the Krenshaw estate. You'd gone in to wash and simply… disappeared. Days went by and, though he thought he could hear you around the cottage, Ullan couldn't find you. Finally he accepted that you must have left, finding his outburst of violence too distasteful to tolerate his company. All the time you were looking for him, he was searching for you. He'd only found out you'd made it back to the tavern when your grandmother sought him out. She'd reamed him for letting a simple confusion spell catch him and then sent him to see you.

You stood, pacing a few steps away before you turned to look at him. Ullan stood as well, his eyes, blue and sharp, filled with a mixture of hope and resignation. Gazing at him, you realized that he would stand there and explain himself, offering humble apologies and silently hoping for another opportunity, as long as you wanted him to. But that was not what you wanted. You didn't want reasons or hope, not right now. All you wanted now was a simple answer to a simple question.

“Ullan, do you love me?” you could almost not believe your own voice, “Because I love you, and would very much like to-" The rest of your word were cut off as Ullan lunged forward and kissed you. He lifted you up, deepening the kids and when it broke you were back at the cottage.

“Yes,” Ullan looked at you, his hands linked with yours, “I love you.”

[thelegendofmrrager]

hey yall should follow my non-fandom account @whuppers

[quickreaver]

Drawn for mangacat201's From Glowing Embers Rise.

Season Seven: "The day after Castiel takes Lucifer away, Sam gets his wings."

Go read. The wing description alone is worth it!