#like do i see there being any way for me to exist in the world? no djdksl not at all
unconditional love. ✧ park sunghoon x fem!reader genre: bittersweet fluff, coming of age angst
you liked park sunghoon, you truly did. he was kind, intelligent, and had that soft introverted persona on the outside.
when you got to know him, he became the most funny and loudest person to ever exist, which had your heart doing backflips.
it wasn’t him that was the issue. it was you. you always had commitment issues, never being able to settle down because of your past pulling you behind. i mean—how could anyone ever like you? you felt as thought you were too loud, too annoying, too irritable, just too much.
despite your brain constantly bringing you down, park sunghoon loved you. he loved every single piece of you, the way you’d blow your perfect hair out of your face as you concentrated on the textbook in front of you, the way your eyebrows would furrow when you didn’t quite catch a question or answer, the way you’d prop your head onto your knees as a way to comfort yourself.
god, park sunghoon swore you were the one. he didn’t care that his friends warned him about your earned title of being a ghoster when it came to relationships, he didn’t care that it felt like he was constantly putting in more effort than you.
as long as he’s got you, he doesn’t care. so how did the two of you end up in this situation?
“i don’t get it,” sunghoon frowns, “what did i do wrong?”
“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you say exasperatedly, “in fact, you were perfect sunghoon. you were everything i wanted and more—it’s just me.”
park sunghoon hated the classic it’s me not you excuse when it came to situations like these. but because it’s you, he lets it slide, even though he already feels the tears coming.
“i don’t want to hurt you any longer, hoonie. you have to understand i’m ending this because i care about you too much to put you through hell.”
sunghoon solemnly nods, knowing whatever he’ll say won’t change anything, that it’s already too late and you’ve already made up your mind.
it’s cruel, he thinks. life. how it could be so depressing and meekly all at once.
it wasn’t until a year later that sunghoon and you crossed paths again. you two were now sophomores in college, and had even attended the same university.
you had gotten a boyfriend, finally deciding to settle down after maturing and realizing how much of a piece of shit you were to all the boys at your high school.
his name was heeseung and he had treated you like a princess, reminding you of how sunghoon used to treat you back in senior year.
now here you were, sitting on one of the university steps with your head hung low. your parents had given you the call about them divorcing, right in the middle of your sophomore year. you were miles away, and was heartbroken knowing your family was splitting in two without you being there physically to support them.
“hey, you okay?”
you knew that voice better than anyone.
“hoon?” you sniffle. “i’m sorry—why am i even calling you that.”
“it’s okay.” he reassures you, patting your back as he takes a seat. “what’s wrong?”
“parents are getting divorce,” you scoff. “guess thats karma for all the things i put you through.”
“don’t say that.” sunghoon gently wipes away your tears, frowning when he sees more appear.
“you shouldn’t even be comforting me, i treated you like shit sunghoon, i got a new boyfriend right after i said i couldn’t settle down with you.”
“who cares?” sunghoon says, and for the first time, you don’t see the romantic love he used to have in his eyes for you. “we’re young! of course you’re going to find other people.”
you’re in awe at the maturity sunghoon is displaying. you knew it took a lot of courage for him to do so.
“why are you being so nice, sunghoon?”
“the world is already cruel, yn.” sunghoon sighs. “so therefore, i won’t be.”
and although his words won’t stop the divorce of your parents or the sadness filling your chest, it makes you feel a tad bit lighter, knowing that you had someone like park sunghoon in your life.
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summary: - a prologue of sorts - you and ellie will never be the same. the words you exchange are so deep seated and visceral, an accumulation of all the hurt. hers are telling; the love she gives is nothing like yours, nowhere near as intense, nowhere near as desperate. she’s closed off to you, and she may never be open again. she’s leaving town before it is even given a proper ending, to go on tour now that her music career is taking off. this is the end. at least for a few years.
warnings: not rlly proofread bc i ball too hard, angst with no comfort yet, dw it’ll come, ellie is dealing with trauma, references to sex.
an: every now and then i remember that alcohol exists but then i drink it and remember why i didnt drink it for ages. i hate alcohol. this shit is reaaaaally short cuz it’s just some context for the main story. it’s not really necessary to read but i wrote it anyway just because. unfortunately for me, bc whenever i start a story i get rlly anxious until its over, the next one prolly won’t be coming for a while since im gonna be travelling for a bit and i got quite a lot of stuff going on: love you guys, stay safe, never stop talking about palestine. do your clicks. :-)
masterlist
When you first saw Ellie, there were embers in her eyes - front of the pub, she didn’t even need a stage as she sang her heart out. Her captivating nature was enough to elevate her. Everyone else in the room faded to grey in the background, nothing more than a lively buzz punctuating the atmosphere. You were enraptured.
And she was too.
Hesitant glances from across the room at the same time each week, the music and the feeling was electric. The flush of her cheeks melted into the splotches of red from the sweltering heat each time she met your eyes. You sat on that same barstool; she stood in that same spotlight.
And when you started seeing each other, there were so many moments where you felt like your love for her was uncontainable. It spewed out of your pores and overwhelmed your senses every time she was near, even in spite of her soft and reserved demeanour.
It had a hold on you. Each time your lips met, it always became visceral for you, slow and sensual movements transforming into borderline aggression, tongue desperately searching her insides and tearing all the petals off the rose that was in her mouth. You wanted to consume her, suck her up and hold her in the comfort of your rib cage. She was everything to you.
And she was bound to fame. You knew it would come. She was made of stardust, and an aura so golden it would burst if confined in small town pubs any longer.
Sometimes, you gently trace the ridged edges of the polaroid pinned to your wall and feel a pool of warmth gather inside you at the feeling of familiarity her younger face brings. Her face, back then when her eyes seemed greener, her cheeks seemed fuller, her voice seemed clearer. It’s a sick feeling: nostalgia, remembering the way your intensity felt and what it has become.
If you stare too long, you’ll watch the grainy photograph melt and churn, the hues of her skin becoming duller and sunken inwards.
The house is quiet. It’s a silence so dense, you’re almost fooled into thinking Ellie isn’t home. But she is. She’s there, like a ghost lingering in the cracks of your walls.
It feels cold, with a lingering scent of whiskey and a heavy silence that creaks in the hollows of your ears, even for the weeks at a time that Ellie is home.
Maybe it’s a sick thought to have about the woman you would give up your life for, who you would do anything for, who you love more than anything in the world millions of times over, but you prefer it when there’s a distance between the two of you these days. Playing into that constant facade of everything being okay drains you of all your worth and for no return. Ellie gave up on it a while back. It’s just you prancing away solo on that stage now, like some jester.
You’ve become a slave to it, lost yourself out at sea trying desperately to make things okay, whatever that means. She'll never talk to you about it. There’s only scraps left to hide but she clings to them like they’re her lifeblood, tearing them away from you as if you’re just some stranger. Some stranger who watches her crumble to pieces and put herself back together, like she’s a damn mix and match, each time the memories come back to surface in her mind. You beg for more, for crumbs of her resolve but she’s gone. Not coming back.
Nothing has been okay. Nothing has ever been the same since Joel died. Ellie has never been the same. That day, he left and took a piece of her with him. A piece you know you’ll never get back.
There’s no room for argument, what is between the two of you is like glue that barely sticks, so you keep yourself deathly still and hold your breath with a pounding heart and complete desperation, not wanting to ruin anything further. But there’s so much you have to say, and no time to say it.
Instead, you watch her pull further away, see her eyes become duller, notice her absence get longer, feel the sex get colder, watch everything warp and twist and writhe until you’re beyond the point of no return. Until you’re not sure you trust her, or yourself, or the concept of anyone truly loving you the animalistic and self destructive way you loved them at any point in time.
It’s lonely on that island, watching her drift away, the person you thought completed you, she felt incomplete regardless of your presence.
You know the glue has faded when she turns to face you from the foot of the bed, looking so far away as she speaks.
"What? You're moving to LA?" She looks down at the fingers she’s twiddling, and takes a deep breath before continuing.
"Yeah, Max said it wa-"
"Well, how long?" You cut her off, already rising from the bed and moving closer. She meets your eyes but the look she gives doesn’t satiate your anxiety in any way, despite how you beg it to.
"... About that, we were thinking it might be… indefinite for now..."
Your heart stills in your chest and the blood rushes from your head. She can’t even look at you.
"Ellie. What the fuck… How are you just gonna dump this on me now? W-what about us? What are we gonna do? I already barely see you anymore,"
"I... I'm sorry but, I gotta do this. You know I do, if I'm gonna make a caree-"
Desperation takes over, your palms quivering erratically beneath you,
"Ellie… I know you care about your career, but, God, we've been together for so long. I love you so much, please don't do this to me,"
She raises her gaze to the ceiling and forces the lump down the dry, tight hollow of her throat,
"It's not forever, babe, I’ll come home.”
But you’re already shaking your head in dismissal of her blatantly dishonest words,
"You and I both know that that is not true. You’ve been desperate to go since it happened and I know I’m just an obstacle now.“
"That’s… That’s not true. I really can’t do this right now."
"You never can. And it’s because I fucking know you're not coming back, Ellie! And I'm not gonna sit around, waiting for you to call, only ever hearing about you through other people when we’ve been together for so many fucking years! I want you to be happy more than anything-“
"We can call.”
"But you fucking won't! And you're always drunk! You need to talk to me, Ellie, we're never gonna be okay if you don't!”
“I can’t be okay when I’m trapped here! All I can think about is him! I don’t eat, I don’t sleep!”
"But this isn’t gonna make anything better! We have something here! We said we would start a family together, Ellie… LA; you would never have wanted this… Okay? Joel would never have wanted this!"
She gets up and turns without a second thought at the sound of his name and your blood pressure spikes in complete desperation.
"Ellie, Ellie, please. I'm sorry. We can work through this, I promi-"
“I have to go.”
“No, you don’t! You aren’t being fair! You shut me out! You shut everyone out! I’ve been trying so fucking hard!"
"I know, and I’m fucking sorry, but I can't stay here, there's nothing left for me! I love you-"
Your voice is quiet and quivers with emotion that lulls her in, begging her to see that you need her - that she has always come first to you even if you’ve become secondary to her,
"Then prove it. Stay."
But her mind is already made up.
"… I can’t…”
You’re shaking your head,
“I have to do this.”
No, this is seriously the end.
“I'll come home."
You stop shaking your head and look at her.
“No. I can't wait around for you, Ellie, not when we’re like this. If you do this, it's over."
"That's up to you."
The rest of the night seems blurry to you. A deep despair festers to the brim of your skull. You can’t bring yourself to move once she’s gone, can’t bring your mind to calm itself down.
But once you do, the house is plunged into the darkness you encounter. The weight of Ellie still hangs thick in the air and lingers like a whine in the creaks of cold floorboards. As you leave the house you shared with Ellie, you pass through each room, switching the light on and then off, from top till the bottom, until you reach the last.
Click,
and then you leave, once and for all.
Pass round the bend and then by the sea. Watch the waves rise and then crash into each other, right where Ellie used to plant her feet beside you.
more pics of my cat bc she’s just so adorable 😩
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A debate I had on Reddit about abortion rights.
The person I'm arguing with is an active participant of the Mensa subreddit, so they already fancy themselves a genius to some extent.
Me:
No arms, no legs, no heart, no brain. Just a blood vessel pumping blood from the host to the clump of cells.
And the "But there's a heartbeat" excuse is a lie. You're only hearing the host's blood pumping into cells cause the heart isn't fully formed until 10 weeks. Additionally, the brain isn't even fully developed until 24 weeks. No heart organ, no brain, it's not a viable life outside its host body.
Them:
Yeah that's an empirical argument to deny ontology. That's not convincing to anyone who thinks there is an essence to being human that isn't tied to having arms and legs.
Me:
I'm sorry, but are you trying to use philosophy to argue whether or not someone is capable of living without a heart, brain, and lungs?
Them:
How do you determine what is human and what is not? Arms and legs? What do you call someone without arms and legs? Or a mechanic heart? You can't answer the question 'what is human' based on physical qualities only. So yes, logically you cannot answer the question without philosophy.
Me:
I think you are confusing personhood with the human species.
A person is someone who can think, breathe, and exist on their own. They have a personality and their own opinions on subjects like abortion.
A human being or homo sapiens is a species on earth that evolved enough to form social groups and cultures and, therefore, are capable of personhood. Some other more complex animals might be capable of personhood, like Koko the Gorilla. She was intelligent, learned to communicate using sign language, and even had her own pet.
I'm not discussing this subject in terms of personhood. A fetus isn't developed enough to form a sense of personhood if it can't even survive on its own at 2 months gestation.
Them:
I'm talking about the essence of what makes one a living human. As long as pregnant women before the 3rd month believe they're carrying a child, which is all of them who want to *keep* the child, I am not appealed by the argument that it's suddenly no longer a child but rather a fetus for biological/scientific/empirical reasons when there are various financial and social advantages of it being so.
The points you mention are even still different from mine.
Me:
>The points you mention are even still different from mine.
Correct because again, you fail to see the point of the argument.
You yourself say;
>As long as pregnant women before the 3rd month believe they're carrying a child, which is all of them who want to *keep* the child,
That's all fine and dandy cause it's her *choice* to do so, not yours and not the government's. But it's not yours or anyone else's place to force your philosophical or religious views on an entire nation and bully us all into following them by making your opinions a law.
Them:
It's a choice to recognise a human as a human, you're saying? So where's the end to that travesty of logic? A cat is a dog, a man is a woman, that dog is a man and that man is a dog. That's a wild world you're living in. I don't see the world that way, it defeats both logic and common sense. But it surely makes a way to justify doing whatever the hell you like doing. I won't force morality on you, but I'll tell you when it's absent.
Me:
Again, you're trying to use philosophy to argue science, and that gets us nowhere. I already stated I'm not talking from a philosophical standpoint.
You can see the world however you want. Your morals aren't always going to line up with your neighbors morals. Your neighbor might think it's immoral to eat any kind of meat. Are you gonna give up that steak dinner cause they can smell it in their living room? How would you feel if the entire government decided eating meat is a crime and, therefore, it's banned and you go to jail just for eating a hamburger. Kinda sucks when other people force their philosophy and religion on you by passing laws to get their way.
Now I know you're gonna be like, "But you can't compare pregnancies to diets!" But you're already equating philosophy with science. So, let me give you another scenario.
Do you like eggs? Eggs are just undeveloped chickens who were denied the ability to develop and hatch. Will you give up your eggs and bacon just because your vegan neighbor says it's immoral?
Since to you personhood and human are one and the same. Say aliens decide to visit earth; they have arms and legs and a brain, can speak, express emotions, and have their own culture. Are they human? Do we give them the same rights as you and me even though they weren't born on earth and are basically invading our planet? Or are they just displaying personhood?
If you say yes, they are human and deserve the same rights as you and me, then you also need to give those same rights to the "illegal aliens" that cross the border.
Why are undeveloped fetuses given more rights to life than families with children who are trying to seek a better life? Why do we value a fetus over the actual baby? Once it's born, if the mother says she needs help, she's scorned and looked down on for asking for WIC, foodstamps, and cash benefits to help feed and cloth her baby. She should have thought of that before deciding to have a baby, right? But if she decides she's unable to afford a baby, and she can't afford to take time off because the pregnancy is making it hard for her to work, she's called a murderer for seeking an abortion.
To pro-life advocates, a fetus is more important before it's born than after it's born. And you won't convince me otherwise. The same people pushing for abortion bans, banning mifepristone (a drug that's also necessary to help with incomplete miscarriages), and even simple birth control are the same people who vote to cut funding to welfare programs, free lunch programs, and to entire school districts. That's not very pro-life of them now, is it?
-------
They gave up the argument after that.
I could have converted this into a rant solely from my perspective, but I felt it would be better just to copy it as a script.
Pro-lifers are not actually pro-life. They are just anti-women and anti-choice. If they actually cared about the fetus, they would care about it after its born by passing laws and regulations that would ensure the child has the best quality of life possible and every chance to succeed. Instead, time and again, they vote against those laws.
They don't care about the fetus once it's born. Why is that? Could it be that their true goal all along is to force women back into submission because they romanticize the bygone era of the 1800s and early 1900s when women didn't hold jobs, didn't vote, and couldn't do anything without their husband's explicit permission?
I dunno, that's just the vibe I get from the anti-choice supporters. Why else would they say things like, "Stop riding dick if you can't take accountability." But then start foaming at the mouth when you remind them accountability goes both ways. When's the last time they made a child support payment?
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↳ EVENT 06. M!Kylar (Incest)
Pairing: Big Brother M!Kylar / F!Reader
Genre: Smut 18+
WC: 2,509
Warnings: incest, bath sex, yandere, creampie, cockwarming, stockholm syndrome, riding, breeding
Prompt(s): 07 — incest
Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!
A/N: i dunno what inspired me to take a softer approach to this request, but i've been enjoying writing the really loving requests... so i hope that this is still enjoyable !! i also think kylar suits this prompt the most, so it was super fun to explore!!! tysm!
After a long, exhausting, and humiliating day of school (or as Kylar likes to affectionately call it, imprisonment), there is simply nothing better to cap the awful experience off than to indulge in some alone time with his favourite little sister. His only little sister, the light of his life, the sole joy he experiences in this shitty world and his shitty life. To say that he relies on you for all of his comfort and happiness would be an understatement— he saps it. Leeching off of you from the moment he enters home, calling out for your attention before the front door is even closed. And the fact that you're none the wiser only encourages him to use you some more, forever pushing you to your limits to hopefully break you in as his own.
And tonight is no special exception. Away from prying eyes, in the safety of four thin walls, he begs for your affections once again. Dragging you into his room to spend the night together, just like always. And it's comforting to know that even after all the bullshit bullying he has to endure during the day, he can always count on his precious little sister to make it all worthwhile. God, he'd go through near death beatings daily if it meant he got to wrap his arms around you at the end of it all, nice and snug and soft, pretty little sister in his arms for him to coddle and coo at. Because he loves you so much, he's willing to endure whatever it takes to keep you out of harms way; so much so that he willingly puts himself into dangerous situations just to make sure you don't need to leave your shared home for any reason.
The world doesn't deserve your kindness. The town is unworthy of your cuteness, undeserving of your sweetness. Or; perhaps he's just being a selfish big brother, right? Keeping you all to himself, locked away in his tower for self serving reasons.
Like to be the only one to hear your barely audible little whimpers, how soft and pretty you sound right now, especially when his knuckles brush against your wet cheek and you shiver into him. Fuck, feels so good, doesn't it? He knows he does, playfully biting down on his bottom lip— unchecked confidence flowing through him now that he's only with you. It's funny, actually, how no one outside these four walls would assume just how cocky he can get, reserving that side of himself just for you. It's only fair, he thinks. He gets to see sides of you that no one else does, and in return, you receive authority over every aspect of your life, all in an effort to keep you safe. An innocent enough want, though he's well aware of just how degenerate he can get. How far he can twist relative honesty.
It's the least he could do for you, considering all you've got to do is exist and he's happy. Do you even know the things he goes through for you? How much trouble it is to actually keep you healthy and secure? It's like keeping a pet, only more rewarding when you take hold of his hand, little fingers locking with his own before dipping them back under the water together.
So cute! You're so fucking cute it pains him, heart hurting at the way your silky skin rubs against his own, tits pressed snugly to his chest, secured only by the warm water surrounding him. The skin on skin contact just gets to him— it's one of his favourite ways to spend time with you. Naked, bare, ignoring the moral implications of playing with his baby sister in such a disgusting way; he plays with you in far worse ways anyway. But the connection coursing through him, from your fingertips to his own, is unmatched. Causes his cock to tremble inside of you, his eyes instinctively rolling and then squeezing shut at the tight fit inside of your cunt.
It's bath time! he'd ordered you once home, pants already tenting from the way you excitedly started running the water at the mere mention of some valued bath time with big brother.
C'mere, sit on my lap he'd encouraged you once getting in the too hot water, but a little burning isn't gonna stop him from hanging out with his baby sister, now is it?
Wanna sit on it? he'd asked you once feeling you squirming around, wiggling your baby sister butt on his fat cock like routine. It's not the first time he's impaled your angel cunt in the water, and it certainly won't be the last. A regular enough occurrence at this rate that he knows cock is what you're after when he mentions bathing— not that he's any better, looking forward to getting you wet in the bath just so he can shove his dirty big brother cock inside of you again and again— routine.
It's only natural, he thinks. Given that you're disallowed from seeing anyone else, let alone any other suitors, that you'd want to explore things like sex and orgasms with your big brother. Which is luckily all according to his plan, to seclude you enough to make you think that it's your choice to date him. Greedy cock twitching inside your pretty little hole as you idly rub a thumb up and down his held hand, allowing him to slide down the tub just a little to reposition his cock at a better angle inside of you. If he keeps you all to himself like this, leaving you no other choice but to date and fuck and kiss and marry your big brother, then he can die happy.
"What did you do today?" He mundanely asks, but it's more of a grunt than anything else. Winded by the unfairly tight squeeze of your cunt, wrapped sooooo nicely around him, God, he'd kill for that cunt, yknow?
You take a second to answer, clearly preoccupied with not shifting around too much as he feels you tense up on his cock at the sound of his voice. Pretty baby, big brother will always protect you, okay?
"The usual," you yawn, and he has half a mind to pull out of your pretty pussy to instead stuff your open maw full with cock. "Mostly waited for you to get home, Ky."
Oh, how the affectionate nickname you've taken to calling him goes straight through him, fat beads of precum staining your insides all gloopy as a proclamation of love. His pretty little stockholm sister, are you even away of the things you do to him? How the banality of it all, taking a simple bath with you, is the lewdest part. Cock pulsing against your squishy insides while your tits ride against his chest, primal need dictating him to let go of your hand in favour of placing both hands on the small of your back. A little pressure added there to really make you feel the weight of your words, and by extension, the weight of his cock.
Your reaction is immediate, a sharp little squeak that he wants to force out of you again and again— but there is joy to be had in taking things slow, too. Like how when he lifts a hand up to your soaked hair to pet at, he's privy to the view of your wet cat like stare back at him, pretty pout and all. He leans down, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips as a reward for being so cute for him. "Don't you get bored of waiting for me every day? Aren't you doing something else?" He tests you, resting his chin at the top of your head to force you into listening to how hard his heart beats for you; in time with how fast his cock pulses with need.
"I— No... Seeing big brother again is my favourite thing!" You protest, and it's difficult to remain in his calm, cool, and collected big brother composure when you're whining so prettily for him like that, a little moan at the end from the way he rolls his hips against your own in the face of your absolute devotion.
Perfect, he thinks. You're already his, so he can do whatever he wants to you, right?
And while having you cockwarm him is one of his favourite pastimes, he'd be lying if he said he could do it all night. Much to his disappointment, though he tries every single bath time to do just that, your high pitched gasps and sweet little sighs coax him into movement without fail. A gentle back and forth to begin with, moving you up and down his cock with ease more so than moving himself— you can always count on big brother, okay?
And yet, domesticity calls to him. Begs to keep the slow pace, to let you hump him mindlessly once he's kickstarted your movement. You're a good girl, you know to keep moving, yeah? A simple up and down while he twirls your wet hair, gently cupping the back of your head with one hand, the other finding home on your ass to pinch and tug on your cheek. There's not a thought to be had in that dumb little sister brain of yours, is there? And there better not be, given how hard he works to make sure that there isn't. Rock hard cock stroking your insides gently, at your own pace, a satisfied hum escaping him when you huff and puff up and down his length.
"Good answer— ah—" he rewards you with a rushed moan, wrapping his body even tighter around you to get as close as possible to his little sister, wanting more than anything to melt into you, become so connected through the leaking precum dirtying your insides that all you can think about is him— because all he can think about is you, it's only fair! Even if you've proven yourself thus far to surround your world with him, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to get enough of you. Convinced by your devotion to thrust his cock up just a little, enough to knock you off balance and further into his greedy hold. "Waiting for big brothers cock?" He urges you to continue, to fuck his perverted length faster, fuck yourself stupid on big brother, okay baby?
You let out a muffled mhm!, moaned directly against his chest, heat rising to his cheeks from how cute you can be when doing something so immoral. You actually enjoy fucking big brother? Gross, he sneers internally. Only, the fact that you take part and also relish in something as vulgar as this tugs on his heart. Has his mind reeling with affections for you, grabbing a greedy fistful of your ass to aid in your bounces up and down.
Water splashes around him, the pace of your tiny humps quickening the harsher he grabs you. To the point that he has to use both hands on your pretty body, literally picking you up and letting you drop back down on his cock with insatiable need.
"Fuck, I can't— you're too good at this." he half laughs, sinking further into the water so as to allow you enough room to properly straddle him, every bounce you make on his fat cock leaving him more than a little breathless as he struggles to keep up with your thirst. Chest tight with the sight of you indulging yourself to his cock, using him just as much as he uses you on a daily basis. Oh how he loves it, to be at the receiving end of your adoration, your warm cunt sucking him further in with ever fuck, prompting his hips to hump upwards out of sheer desperation to match your sibling fucking energy.
Greedy as he is though, his hands settle possessively on your hips. Aiding in your movements in a selfish manner, forcing you to grind your puffy clit against him every time you slam your ass back down against his lap.
More than anything he strives to make you happy. Everything, literally everything he does is for you. Guided by your smile, aided by your laughter. He loves you so much, didn't you know? It's why he's helping you fuck yourself dumb on his cock, thoughtlessly thrusting in tandem with your humps, moaning out for you just as much as you sob his name. Over and over, his favourite song.
And like the good big brother he is, he knows when you're close. Takes over the job of fucking when you grow too weak to continue, despite the water splishing over his face. He'd drown if it meant you got to cum, honestly.
Rather than state the obvious, he focuses solely on helping you get there. Cooing and tutting and staring at your scrunched up pretty expression. He'll have to give you so many kisses afterwards for allowing him the privilege to see that cute face later on. Helping you grind your hips down on him in a way that his groin rubs your clit just the way you like, preferring to keep you seated there as your nails dig into his chest for slippery stability, taking to fucking his cock as deep as possible from your stationary seated position. He's barely moving, relying on the twitches and throbs of his cock inside for stimulation. But fuck— baby sister cunt feels so good, how your insides squirm around and suck his cock off so well, pretty whines spilling for him in abundance.
He stares at your face, only so that he can watch you fall apart on his big cock. Because the cut off sob you let out, followed by a gasp of his name before your moth falls open in a silent beg is so cute, fuck, he can't stop himself from cumming too. Not when your hole wraps tighter than ever around his intrusion, bullying his way inside your cunt to shoot his load as deep as possible, aiming to breed his baby sister bitch as payment for sticking by him when no one else would. Promising a future you've yet to learn about simply because you're too cute to hold back, painting your insides sticky white to mix with the bath water when he inevitably pushes some out with deep thrusts.
Gushy little cunt, still spasming around his length when he's done filling you up. It's a good thing you're in the bath with him after all, quietly cooing to you in soft privacy to get up, let him clean you while you're here. There's no one here to tell you how wrong it is for him to not only breed your cute hole, but to also clean it up afterwards with his fingers sneakily entering to scissor around a little.
And he hopes to keep you this way. Dumb, obedient, and oblivious. It's when his favourite little sister is at her cutest.
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And so, the last Bad Batch Eve falls upon us.
It is surreal to think that a show that has meant so much to me for three years will come to an end. I've talked about how meaningful TBB is to me many times, and I most certainly will in the future, but I didn't want to pass on the opportunity to do it on the last Bad Batch Eve we'll officially have.
The night before Aftermath premiered, I'd struggled with some pretty bad anxiety. In the weeks following after that and throughout the first season, I dealt with depression and anxiety being diagnosed as well as an ear infection the doctor attributed to said mental illnesses. I went through a pretty bad breakup. The lockdowns were at their peak where I was. But despite that being a rough time, I also vividly remember being in my room at home, my favorite place in the world, eating my favorite food and drinking my favorite relaxing tea, hearing it rain outside, wearing my favorite hoodie and my PJs, watching/rewatching those season 1 episodes. Seeing Crosshair deal with the inhibitor chip seemed to echo some of what I was going through, i.e. having something in your head you couldn't really control. I wondered how afraid he must have felt, and I sympathized with him.
During S2, as Crosshair was off with the Empire, I was off living in my hometown the first time, away from my true home and my family, and I have to admit I was very lost during that time. I did make mistakes. I did return home, and I left it again, albeit now more ready, more prepared, more stable. But it was still a second time leaving home.
S3 Crosshair has all but solidified my intent in going back home and not freaking leaving and I really hope the day in which I can return home to my family the way he did is sooner rather than later. Seeing him grow, own up to his mistakes, forgive and be forgiven, learn to control what's in his head, and heal, feels like a very fitting peak to a journey, a journey that had and still has its ups and downs.
And let's not forget the writing and the fandom. I have written things I didn't think I'd write, things I've loved so much that part of me wants to go back in time and rewrite to experience the joy of doing it all over again (looking at Moonlight here lol). I have also made gifs, which I didn't ever imagine doing! I edited music videos and crack meme compilations, which I had wanted to do for years. Fear not, I'll keep doing all of that - slowly, yes, but not with any less love. Y'all are stuck with me. 😁🩷
And as if all I've mentioned wasn't already very valuable, I cannot forget all the beautiful, wonderful, amazing people I've met because of this show. People who I've learned from, laughed with, cried with, fangirled with, gamed with... every single one of you has been the icing on the cake, the lattice on the pie, the parmesan on the pasta. You have all truly made this worth it and make me love being in the fandom. You give what I do a greater purpose, and you have become people I am happy to call moots and friends. I am over the moon that this show allowed me to cross paths with you. @photogirl894 @rebekadjarin @darthzero22 @arctrooper69 @jedi-hawkins @stardustbee @s-pirth-lemonade @eloquentmoon @sageislostinspring @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @kimageddon @emperor-palpaminty @rainydaydream-gal18 @imabeautifulbutterfly @paperback-rascal @pankeki-25 @dragonrebelrose @dragonrider9905 @questforgalas @lightwise @zoruui @nunanuggets @misogirl828 and everyone else 🩵
I love The Bad Batch and what it's done for my life in so many aspects. I love these characters for their growth and because they were there for me when nobody was, and because they brought me to so many amazing people. I am grateful that this show exists and I cannot wait to keep creating all the stuff I have planned, writing or otherwise.
Thank you, Clone Force 99, and thank you everyone for being a part of this journey!
🩷🌙
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went into the notes of that poll going around about if people want more seasons of supernatural and was immediately slapped in the face with how different my priorities are in this fandom from. a lot of it. what are you talking about ‘destiel endgame’. girl the show has bigger problems to fix than that if it ever had more seasons. they taught a three year old that the best way to be loved was to continuously try to kill himself and then they made him god.
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i said it on my swiftie blog last but fuck it i'll say it here too bc i woke up still annoyed about it:
for a website that does a ton of bitching and moaning about media literacy and and saying all this "you all clearly didn't pay attention in high school english", funny how suddenly none of y'all know what a fucking metaphor is.
of course taylor wasn't literally raised in an asylum! the public eye is the inescapable asylum!
i think about all the genuinely shitty and harmful things i've said and done across all my nearly 30 years. i have said and done some awful shit, because i am an incredibly fallible person who was raised by incredibly fallible parents and relatives, raised in a fallible community (things i literally had ZERO choice in) and surrounded by incredibly fallible friends. i have hung around some horrible people who said and did horrible things.
if i had to learn everything i've learned all while under a microscope from the public-- yeah! i'd go fucking insane! i wouldn't last ten seconds in that!!
and i really reckon you wouldn't, either, because the unfortunately reality is we're all fallible. most of us just have the luxury of being complete nobodies
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Gaslighting? In MY household? It’s more likely than you think
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I wanna flesh out a yakuza oc but every time I think about it I end up thinking about an oc of mine who already Exists who’s not a yakuza oc. but is, in fact, an oc who is a yakuza. and that fact is genuinely completely unrelated
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guess who had to send. an email. i'm so composed. SCREAMS SCREAMS SCREAMS SCREAMS SCREAMS SCR--
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that moment when: everyone's lives are restricted and constricted and these imposed consequences are attributed to anyone's continual individual failures to seek, find, and follow the Correct Path through Life, and so everyone is left on their own to only be seeking & finding these failures as well as the only answer to how their lives can be better....versus Not seeing the world as the free marketplace meritocracy of everyone's personal failures/successes, nor everything in your own life, and thus not forever having to scrutinize Where You Must Be Bringing It Upon Yourself by fucking up or at least failing to do the correct thing, and exist only in perpetual punishment for your ongoing failure and occasional temporary reprieves from it. recognizing everything that wasn't & isn't & wouldn't be [this is because you're bringing it upon yourself] and thus having more capacity & capability to look at the realm of your personal individual self, reality, experiences, life through the perpetual instances of seeking, finding, and following your own needs/wants through one's inherent personhood and exercises of autonomy and recognition of where & when & how one recognizes moments of their existing freely & in more resonant genuine alignment with themself, you know? endless examples to be found in endless fractals of [where & how are people's lives made smaller]. and that of course this doesn't preclude the ability/option at any time to question one's choices, since you'll be able to find more Actual choices available to you (and, also crucially, find more actual choices made by others that are in the pursuit of limiting Yours) to look at, and people getting to exercise their autonomy isn't the same as "everyone doing anything they want regardless of how it affects others" since that [how does it affect others?] element instead being Regarded would be able to lead to recognizing that, in fact, an effect might be the infringement on others' autonomy, hence: There's A Problem....like the ability to just go ham with [questioning???] anything in existence, certainly including oneself, b/c the "norm" is such that rather you're only supposed to be able to question yourself for your failings (or those positioned as less than, thus, beneath you) and not even have the language to express a questioning of aspects of life beyond that b/c stop calling anyone "cis" they're just Normal, Just Be Normal and it would all be fine
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it is so hard being the sole member of the angie fandom but it is a banner i wave with pride
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today is absolute garbage but i am going to try to do some painting on my project nonetheless, doing my best to attempt to claw my way out of the suicidality goop
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