#but if you like JA and are using it as an argument pls pls pls GET IT RIGHT

[antianakin]

I swear, I'm going to need to get "Obi-Wan put himself on probation in order to prove his commitment to the Jedi and take responsibility for the impact of his own choices" on my body somewhere at this point. Please, please, get this pervasive idea that the probation was FORCED upon Obi-Wan the fuck out of fandom, it ruins the ENTIRE POINT of the whole arc of the first seven books of that series. The choice to put himself on probation is literally the conclusion of Obi-Wan's growth and development. He takes responsibility for his own actions and the unintended harm they've caused, he chooses to accept the uncertainty of his own fate in a way he couldn't do before and this allows him to let go of his fear of that uncertainty that was holding him back in many ways and causing a lot of his issues with anger, and it proves his loyalty to the Jedi Order above all else as something he is choosing because he truly believes it is the right path for him and not just because it's all that he knows. The choice to put himself on probation is SO SO IMPORTANT to Obi-Wan's character arc in this series and EVERYONE MISSES IT TO MAKE HIM SOME UWU SAD BOY INSTEAD.

[fettuccin-e]

Strictly Stress Relief

Kinktober Day 21: Hate Sex

Tags: Javier Peña x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it irl i'm begging), pulling out method lol, hate fucking, semi-public sex (in a supply closet), slight amounts of pining because i am weak for romance (w/c: 1K)

A/N: Back to Javi because this man is a bastard but damn it I'd really like to bang him like a screen door in a hurricane,, anyway I also couldn't help myself from sliding in a little bit of yearning because I need the romance okay?? (For Kinktober I have been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings!)

Javier doesn’t really know when it started, how it started. 

He knows that you just get to him, in ways that he’s never felt before. You dig under his skin with smarmy comments under your breath, going behind his back with intel and planning raids without him involved.

“You’re reckless, Javier,” you say to him as an excuse, even as he looms over you, his jaw clenched with unshed rage. “It’s going to get you, or worse, somebody else, killed.” You're always so cool and collected, like you hadn't just stolen his fucking win.

He knows he drives you crazy with his methods of collecting intel, the girls that he brings in for questioning. He knows that you hate when he breaks protocol, and that you hate it even more when it works.

He knows that when you both used to butt heads, small arguments turning into full screaming matches at the office, he’d go home and drink half a bottle of whiskey, call one of the girls that always lets him treat her exactly how he wants. He’d fuck her rough, violent, working out every single bit of anger you’d stirred up in him that day. Usually, it was enough anger that it left the poor girl with bruises on her hips and a hefty tip in her bag.

What he doesn’t know is how he deviated from that habit, how he’s got you here, right now, pressed up against him in a supply closet of all places. He doesn’t know how he came into this new addiction, turning your arguments into excuses to fuck you anywhere, anytime.

He’s not sure you know how this happened either, but God, the way it feels inside of you makes him not want to fucking worry about it anymore. Your nails dig into his shoulders, a bite of pain that makes everything so much sweeter as he fucks you into the door of the closet.

You’re both making too much noise, but fuck, it doesn’t matter when you whine into his mouth, biting into his bottom lip.

“Fuck, Javi, harder, you have to fuck me harder,” you gasp, one of your legs hitched onto his hip to get him even deeper. The sticky wetness of your cunt is sticking to the wiry hairs at the base of his dick every time he pushes in deep.

“If I fuck you any harder, we’ll break down the goddamn door,” he grunts, but he grabs your hips anyway, pulling you into every one of his thrusts and grinning when you keen, your head tilting back to lean into the door. “Fucking needy, hermosa,” he grins, and you sneer at him.

“If you could fuck me better, maybe I wouldn’t be so needy,” you snarl, moving your hips forward to keep meeting him every time he drives forward.

“You say that I’m not fucking you like you need, baby,” he says, leaning close enough that his lips nearly brush yours. “But the way this pretty pussy is dripping down my cock tells a different story.”

He angles his hips just a little different, pounding up into your cunt, and he knows when he’s found it. That little spot inside that makes your eyes roll back, makes you clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle the way you scream. He slams up into that perfect little spot, over and over and over, relishing in the way you clench around him every time he reaches it.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, sweat beading on his forehead, his curls sticking to his skin. “So pretty like this, taking my cock so well. If I knew that this is what I needed to do to shut that smart mouth up, I would’ve been fucking this sweet pussy for months now.” 

You gasp around a response, unable to form words as Javier breaks you apart, his cock jamming into parts of you that you can’t even reach on your own. He fucks you like he fights with you; rough, primal, reckless. Strangled groans rip their way from his chest, and fuck, he can feel his orgasm creeping up, threatening to blow him to pieces right then and there.

You have to cum first. He has to make sure you cum first.

He reaches a hand between you both to rub maddening, tight circles into your clit, and God, the way you whine, high in the back of your throat, will haunt his fucking dreams tonight.

You’re goddamn beautiful when you cum, an angel in real time, though Javier will never admit that out loud. This is strictly stress relief. Mind-boggling, life-altering stress relief. 

Javier pulls out of you when you shake through the aftershocks of your orgasm, furiously jacking his cock in his hand and gasping at the way you look up at him, all doe-eyed and goddamn beautiful. You moan softly when he splatters his cum all over the outside of your pussy, letting it drip down your skin. It fuels something deep inside him, fills him with a sense of ownership that he should not be fucking feeling.

When you both finally catch your breaths, you pick your skirt up off the ground, yanking it up and over your hips. Javier ignores the fact that you don’t wipe yourself off, that you didn’t tug your panties back on. He absolutely does not think about the fact that his cum will be dripping down your thighs throughout your ride home tonight.

“You should-” you breathe, glancing up at him. “You should follow that intel we got today. You questioned that girl in the first place, it should be your win.” There’s something in the way you say “questioned” that makes his heart beat hard in his chest. It sounds bitter, jealous even.

You break from his gaze, not offering anything more than that as you tug on your heels. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Javier,” you mutter, and you slip out of the closet without another word.

[sunshinesteviee]

maybe some dad eddie taking baby to family video, and playing hide and seek with the shelf’s with steve and robin

eee thank you!! my first attempt at writing eddie, so pls be gentle w me (but also would love any feedback you have!) wc: 1.1k; dad!eddie

-

“Alright, c’mon, stinker,” Eddie huffed, hoisting his three-year-old out of his carseat before setting him onto his feet next to the van. It was no longer the same kind of van he had in high school — this one was totally a dad van, and his friends loved to give him shit for it. He stuck his hand out to his side, fingers wiggling at his little boy as he demanded, “Hand!”

Jasper quickly complied and grabbed onto Eddie’s hand, but scoffed in annoyance, sounding a bit too much like his dad, “I not a stinker. You the stinker, daddy.”

Eddie snorted with a shake of his head, shoving his keys into his front pocket with his free hand, and chose not to start an argument with his toddler in the parking lot. Instead, he changed the subject to the task at hand, “Do you think Uncle Steve set aside our tapes for us? Or did he forget again? Maybe Auntie Robin helped him out.”

At the mention of his favorite aunt (maybe his favorite human), Jasper started babbling excitedly, walking as fast as he could to the door, leaving Eddie to follow along and try his best to not trip over his kid. And, before Eddie could stop him, Jasper’s tiny palm was banging on the glass door to Family Video, leaving toddler-sized handprints behind with each smack. Eddie groaned, “Aw, c’mon, kiddo. Uncle Steve is gonna make me clean that. You really are the stinker, you know that?” Still, he pulled the door open and nudged Jasper gently, “Okay, in we go.”

Inside, the store was empty, and both Steve and Robin had stopped whatever they’d been doing at the sound of the smacking on the door. They were both waiting behind the counter, grins on their faces as they watched Jasper toddle inside. His face lit up and he quickly let go of his dad’s hand in favor of running full force at Robin, who had come out from behind the counter and crouched down with her arms open. He nearly knocked her over, shouting her name, though he still didn’t have a grasp on his r’s, causing it to sound more like a w. 

“Hey, little man,” Robin laughed, wrapping her arms around Jasper to hug him close as she stood up again, shifting him to rest against her hip. She pressed an exaggerated kiss to his cheek as she carried him behind the counter with her, “Did you come just to see me?”

“Yes!” Jasper nodded seriously, tiny fingers playing with one of the buttons on her vest intently.

“Dude!” Steve scoffed playfully, reaching out to press his fingers into Jasper’s tummy for a few tickles once Robin had set him on the counter, “No love for Stevie?”

Shrieking with laughter, Jasper curled into Robin’s chest in an attempt to hide, which delighted her to no end, “Nope! Jas is mine today!”

“No kidding,” Eddie replied as he leaned an elbow against the counter, hovering his hand just behind his son’s back just in case, “He got so excited, he nearly tripped both of us and tried to break in when I said we were seeing you, Buckley.”

“That reminds me,” Steve held up one finger as he crouched down, disappearing behind the counter, only to reappear with a spray bottle and a rag in hand a second later. He pushed them across the counter toward Eddie, “To clean the monster’s handprints off the door.”

Eddie gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest, “My son is not a monster! Except for when he is, but I don’t claim him then.” He reached out with one hand to ruffle Jasper’s dark hair and scooped up the cleaning supplies in his other arm to head back to the front door, “Please don’t let him fall off the counter.”

By the time Eddie had wiped all of the small handprints off of the front door, both of his friends and his son had disappeared from behind the counter. Setting the spray bottle and rag back on the counter, Eddie called out into the store, “Oh god. Jasper turned invisible again!” This was a relatively new game; Eddie pretended that Jasper was invisible, even when he was right in front of him. The first time Eddie did it, Jasper had hated it and panicked, thinking he really had disappeared before his dad’s eyes, but quickly realized the fun in pretending he really was invisible, and loved to think he was getting away with stuff. 

There was no reply, only a quiet giggle sounding from somewhere in the store. Eddie would know that sound anywhere. The sound of his baby’s mischievous giggle. Drumming his fingers on the counter, Eddie let out an overly dramatic and forlorn sigh, “Whatever am I going to do?”

Another hushed giggle was followed quickly by some urgent whispering. 

Eddie moved towards the rows of movies and surprisingly, didn’t see any toddler feet sticking out of the rows. With the giggling, though, he knew exactly where he’d find his son. Still, he put on a show, yelling out Jasper’s name and making stupid jokes as he popped around corners of shelves, “Jas? Are you in the romcom section? You’re too young for those!” 

A few tapes fell to the floor in the second to last row as Eddie approached it. There were a few more not-so-quiet — bordering on angry — whispers from Steve and Robin. He guessed they were arguing about who was going to clean up the mess. Eddie moved as quietly as he could, stopping just before the corner before jumping into view and shouting, “Gotcha!”

Both of his friends and his son screamed in surprise, eyes going wide as Eddie appeared in front of them. Jasper was curled up in Robin’s lap, but as soon as he realized it was just his dad, he huffed, nose scrunching up, “Dad! Too scary!”

“No such thing as too scary,” Eddie argued, plucking Jasper out of Robin’s lap to press a sloppy kiss to his son’s forehead. “We need to get our tapes. Did you ask Uncle Steve for them?”

Jasper wiped his fist across his forehead, trying to get rid of Eddie’s kiss, but looked to his uncle for help answering the question, “Steeb? Muppets?” He hadn’t quite figured Steve’s name out either. 

“Give me a second, Munson,” Steve glared at Eddie, a hand over his chest, “You scared the fu— dge. Fudge outta me.”

“Fudge!” Jasper repeated excitedly. 

Eddie pointed at his son, trying to be as stern as possible, “Not a word for you, stinker.”

“Fudge.”

“I said,” Eddie started in a mock-angry tone, “Not for you, stinker!” He finished the sentence by attacking his son with tickles and making chomping noises as he pretended to bite his arm. 

Out of breath from all of the laughing and trying to wiggle away from his dad, Jasper added one last thing, “You the stinker!”

[thetriggeredhappy]

61 for heavy and medic, pls??? 💙 -blu-

today we’re gonna play a fun game called “spot the starkid reference” ft some very domestic and sappy heavymedic content. (warning for passing mention of medic doing medic-y things)

#61. Hands On The Other Person’s Back, Fingertips Pressing Under Their Top, Drawing Gentle Circles Against That Small Strip Of Bare Skin That Make Them Break The Kiss With A Gasp.

“Doktor did not eat dinner,” Heavy observed, standing in the doorway of the infirmary. Medic didn’t even look up at him before he hummed dismissively, which made Heavy sigh.

Medic loved experimentation. Everyone on the team knew that. Absolutely every chance he got—every time Miss Pauling had a spare, fresh cadaver—he would spend his time going to town, experimenting with electricity or chemicals, with replacement organs, everything. What he didn’t love was the paperwork surrounding it, the amount of effort it took to get black market exotic animals or their organs—made easier through Mann Co. and their suppliers, many of whom were already just black market with additional bureaucracy, but that bureaucracy was frustrating and tedious—and the amount of notes that followed, writing down observations as quickly as he could remember them when he was finished so they wouldn’t be forgotten, then spending large spans of time trying to write them a second time in a more organized fashion so they would actually be useable.

Heavy wasn’t entirely sure what Medic was working on just then, the ordering or the revising, but he knew he’d missed dinner because of it, and that was a bad thing. He understood Medic missing a meal because he was getting his hands dirty, but the paperwork could very much wait.

He left the infirmary again, going and stacking some amount of the leftovers on a plate and wrapping a layer of plastic over it to keep it warm, taking a fork and spoon as well before walking back over. Medic hadn’t moved an inch when he got back, too laser-focused on his work.

Heavy set the fork and spoon down on the piece of paper Medic was writing on, which was enough to get him to look up, at least. Then he quickly shuffled the paper aside as Heavy put down the plate.

“Eat, Doktor,” he instructed gently.

Medic’s eyebrows furrowed. “Heavy, I am working,” he said, a little shortly.

“Is not important. Eating is important. Doktor will waste away at tiny desk,” Heavy replied, tone gentle.

Medic looked like he was going to argue more, but Heavy unwrapped the plate and presumably he smelled the food and realized how hungry he was, looking down at it with some amount of surprise.

Heavy pulled over the chair Medic kept nearby to sit down with him while he dug in. When they’d first arrived, it wasn’t actually big enough for Heavy to fit in correctly. But then one day it had been broken during some incident, and when Medic replaced it, he’d gotten one of a size that Heavy could comfortably use. Once he was sat down, he started speaking quietly, if haltingly, about everything that happened at dinner. An argument, a second argument, and a joke that Demo made at Spy’s mild expense was apparently very good but that Heavy didn’t quite understand.

“It is a pun, but Heavy is not sure for what,” he said when he recounted it.

Medic raised the back of his hand to his mouth for the sake of politeness until his mouth was clear, then spoke. “Well, Charlotte is a name, and the word charlatan sounds similar to it. It usually means, er... like a con artist. A more, er... more extravagant word to use for a liar or fraud. And often nicknames, especially in English, are just shortened to the first part. So the alias Spy had used was Charlotte, short for charlatan, ja?”

Heavy followed along, and laughed when understanding finally hit, loud and unabashed. Medic chuckled as well, returning to eating. “Thank you for explaining, Doktor. That is very good joke,” he said, extremely pleased.

“It’s a shame I missed it,” Medic agreed, taking a moment to ball up the plastic wrap and drop it into the trash can, putting the fork and spoon back on the plate to set aside. He looked aimlessly over his desks, apparently only just then noticing the wide spread of papers and not sure where he’d left off.

“Doktor has worked hard, should take break,” Heavy said, tone dropping down to something quieter.

“Out of the question,” Medic said shortly, managing to find his pen from within the piles of paper and searching for whichever paper he’d been working on. “There is too much that needs doing.”

Heavy took Medic’s wrist in one massive hand, and Medic didn’t startle so much as go alert, looking up at him. He kept his expression serious. “Should take break,” he repeated, more slowly, more firmly.

Medic deflated, even if he still didn’t speak for a little while. Hesitated. “Ten minutes, then I’m getting back to work,” he said.

Heavy smiled. “Good,” he agreed, and stood, guiding Medic to his feet and a half-step in, then promptly pulling him into a ginger embrace.

After a moment or two of returning it, Medic exhaled heavily. “All you are going to do is hug me?” he asked, tone pointed, and Heavy laughed, moving back to instead pull Medic up into a kiss.

Medic’s arms went around his waist. Heavy was a large man, and often in the past his lovers hadn’t quite been able to get their arms all the way around him. But Medic was no small man himself, and could generally at least lace his fingers together around Heavy’s back when they embraced, and could make it around his waist when they were kissing.

Long, lazy minutes were spent that way, exchanging gentle kisses, Medic humming happily between each of them. He felt his thoughts drifting, his breath starting to get away from him a little, and he was snapped back into reality when he suddenly felt Medic’s hands dip below the back of his shirt where it often rode up when he was leaned forward like this, starting to draw circles against his skin in terribly pleasant little motions.

He broke the kiss with a gasp, having not realized how deep it had gotten when he wasn’t paying attention. Medic was grinning, some part of it a bit sharp in a way that others sometimes found unsettling.

“Doktor,” Heavy said, and a shiver went up through his back when Medic’s motions widened rather than stopping. “Said ten minutes.”

“I know,” he replied lightly, the barest shade of defensive.

“Door is unlocked,” he said more pointedly.

Medic huffed, leaning up to nip at Heavy’s jaw in lieu of pouting. “If someone comes in here and doesn’t like what they find, that is their problem, not mine,” he said, the tiniest bit testy.

Heavy gave him a Look.

“Fine, then I’ll go lock it,” Medic said next, an edge of complaint starting to creep into view, but he was stopped when Heavy didn’t let go of him to let him move away.

“Doktor will complain at Heavy if he gets very much distracted,” he chided.

“When have I ever done that?” Medic asked, brows furrowing.

“This morning. Also morning before. Also during weekend, and weekend before that—“

“Ja, alright, fine, I get it,” Medic mumbled, leaning in to kiss at Heavy’s neck a few more times, then sighing. “Fine. At least just...”

Heavy waited for Medic to finish his sentence.

“At least sit with me,” he finally requested.

Heavy nodded without even really needing to think about it. “Heavy can do this,” he said easily.

“Vielen Dank,” he said, relaxing a bit.

Heavy dipped into Medic’s room briefly to get the book he’d left there, returning and pulling the chair even just slightly closer and sitting down to read. After a few minutes of Heavy and Medic’s reading and writing in silence respectively, Medic stretched a hand forward across the desk. Heavy reflexively closed the gap, lacing their fingers together on the tabletop. Turning pages became a bit of an issue, but that was alright. He would deal with a lot of inconveniences for his Doktor. Heavy loved him.

From the fact that Medic stopped writing several long moments before he stopped kneading little circles against the back of Heavy’s hand when he finally drifted off, falling asleep right there over his paperwork as he so often did, well, that was what told Heavy that Medic loved him too.

[itsblueberry13-blog]

#stop turning the jedi council into obi-wan's personal villains just to make him sad#you've missed the whole fucking point of that plot beat if you do#obi-wan does make some of his own mistakes#just because he makes them for sympathetic reasons does not mean they weren't still mistakes#he's allowed to recognize he made mistakes and work to make amends for them#it's literally the only way he can fucking grow as a character#stop taking that away from him#it's legends anyway so if you don't like what happens to him in these stories you can just de-canonize them for yourself#just pretend it didn't happen#canon says they didn't happen anyway#but if you like JA and are using it as an argument pls pls pls GET IT RIGHT

I swear, I'm going to need to get "Obi-Wan put himself on probation in order to prove his commitment to the Jedi and take responsibility for the impact of his own choices" on my body somewhere at this point. Please, please, get this pervasive idea that the probation was FORCED upon Obi-Wan the fuck out of fandom, it ruins the ENTIRE POINT of the whole arc of the first seven books of that series. The choice to put himself on probation is literally the conclusion of Obi-Wan's growth and development. He takes responsibility for his own actions and the unintended harm they've caused, he chooses to accept the uncertainty of his own fate in a way he couldn't do before and this allows him to let go of his fear of that uncertainty that was holding him back in many ways and causing a lot of his issues with anger, and it proves his loyalty to the Jedi Order above all else as something he is choosing because he truly believes it is the right path for him and not just because it's all that he knows. The choice to put himself on probation is SO SO IMPORTANT to Obi-Wan's character arc in this series and EVERYONE MISSES IT TO MAKE HIM SOME UWU SAD BOY INSTEAD.