#I hate Neil’s dad

[sweaty-toothed-mad-woman]

I know nothing about filming stuff BUT

I noticed how the people standing up to cheer kinda hid Mr Perry and that kinda shows how the applause made Neil forget about his father for a hot second like we see how happy he is in this next shot

because he kinda forgot his dad was there and then when he remembers his face goes from

to

and it makes me wanna sucker punch Mr Perry all the way into the sun

[baconcolacan]

I’m a homebody, I also know how to cook and bake, I’d be a great househusband, but I also hate taking orders and get really irritated when I’m confined, ergo I’d make a horrible househusband but you get surprise treats sometimes

[ickypuppi3]

do you ever think about billy’s face as he walks up to the door and then the forced casualness as he talks to neil and how it becomes even more forced when neil says about max

[bigdumbbambieyes]

i heard the Lolita 1997 audio that’s Dolores screaming at Humbert and immediately imagined:

Billy being caught with Steve by Neil and immediately losing it, yelling and taunting his father for his gayness, for the way he loves a boy when he isn’t supposed to, watching the way Neil’s face turns red and his father is so close to snapping because Billy’s disrespect and disappointment is reaching new heights

so in the height of his breakdown, Billy screams through tears and a raw, trembling voice, as if he’s begging, ‘murder me! murder me like you murdered my mother!’

and if it weren’t for Steve, Billy would’ve died that night

[emily-mooon]

That one trend of drawing your favourite characters as that one SU comic panel but with a twist and a little bonus for my other two favourites!

[vole-mon-amour]

got reminded tlou2 exists, watched that scene with Joel and Ellie where she says she's not sure if she'll be ever to forgive Joel for not letting her die in that hospital, but that she'd like to try to forgive him.

still crying as I'm thinking about it.

joel deserved fucking BETTER & it still feels as if Neil just wanted to shock the audience and fuck with the gamers. it wasn't in the game's best interest, but in his own ego. it's so unnecessary brutal & i never ever want to see anything other than the museum chapter again. tlou2 is not really canon for me. first game? yeah. second one? screw that shit.

genuinely wishing to see how many people would choose to kill Abby if there was such an option. good game, my ass.

[lesbicosmos]

my dead poets book was delivered earlier!! have i read it already? yeah. did i cry? absolutely.

[radiofree-america]

@first-unmanned-flying-desk-set this is literally your dad

[muirneach]

its my stepmother’s birthday on sunday what are you supposed to get for someone who you majorly dislike and is basically the sole reason i barely want to have contact with my father 😐 hard to find something to purchase for that!

[ionlydrinkhotwater]

I still think about the fact that according to Nora, the man Neil and Kevin watched the Butcher murder in the East tower when they were kids was an assassin who came to murder Riko. And Riko MADE Kevin and Neil watch to send them a message. Especially Neil (you're dad works for ME and I can make him kill you too).

Then at the end of TKM Neil watches with satisfaction as Riko is murdered by his own brother who Neil manipulated into killing him. In the same east tower.

Also Tetsuji who tried to force Neil to bow was forced to bow his own head while his protégé was killed beside him and his exy career and legacy forever diminished.

Neil didn't just beat these guys at Exy is what I'm saying. Then he goes back to his team with a big grin on his face

When Jean thinks this about Neil RIGHT before the game where this all goes down:

"The smile that curved Nathaniel’s mouth was slow and hungry and hateful. It twitched a bit as Nathaniel tried to force it away, but he finally had to use the side of his hand to smooth it off his face. The look he turned on Jean was almost serene, but Jean still saw the madness in his eyes.”

I mean the layers to this are so good, I'm obsessed with the Neil/Nathaniel dynamic that goes on inside Neil

[diamondcitydarlin]

Just fair warning- I said on my personal post about this that I wasn't going to talk about Neil Gaiman anymore, but as it's becoming clear that him and his publishers and anyone else who makes money off of him is circling the wagons and trying to bury these allegations, as well as some fans still defending and trying to 'rationalize' this information, I feel like, actually, we need to keep talking about him (as much as I cannot stand him and feel physically disgusted now when I so much as see his face somewhere). Specifically, the fact that he's a liar, master manipulator and should not, under any circumstances, be given access to his fans like he has in the past. At the very least. (And if you need to blacklist his name or even unfollow me so as to not be triggered, I completely understand, but I will always try to tag these posts accordingly and I think it's crucial right now that the truth be put where people can see)

This post specifically is in response to those 'rationalizations' I've seen, some that have gone as far as to blame the young fans/groupies that hooked up with him for being 'golddiggers' or just making a mountain out of a molehill for something they now regret. It's not that simple, yall. (And, again, this requires some amount of completely ignoring the story about him extorting his tenant for sex under threat of eviction of her and her three young children, I'm not sure how you 'rationalize' that under the best of circumstances)

So let's be clear here. What we know is that NG has routinely, for possibly an upwards of 30 years, pulled sexual 'partners' from his fan groups, most of whom are 18-22 year old young women (though possibly younger, accounts are coming forward of 16 year olds having allegedly been inappropriately touched/flirted/propositioned by him, which ig is the age of consent in the UK but still?? 16 year olds!!). This wasn't one or two times in the course of three decades, this was a constant pattern of behavior for him and for a very insidious reason.

This isn't to try to infantilize those fans or young women/young people in general or try to suggest that they couldn't have consented to sex with an older person or famous person. In fact, the onus isn't on them at all. This is about an older guy with a lot of fame, power and wealth choosing to sleep with people that he had already conditioned to idolize him and using that power imbalance to coerce them into doing things they didn't want to.

Regardless of one's age or gender identity, it can be difficult to impossible to say 'no' to someone like that. After all, you've been 'chosen' by the chosen one, you're special and not like everyone else, and if you don't do what the popular person everyone trusts is telling you to do you could end up ostracized. Alienated. Or worse. And you know what? Gaiman knew that! He knew it when he was crafting his 'approachable dad' persona on tumblr. He knew it when he was cultivating a fandom of personality. He knew it when he was having huge meetups to try to ensnare more victims. I hate to even think it, but I'm starting to believe he knew it when he was writing children's books too.

It's been talked about again and again in separate issues, but needless to say something not being strictly illegal does not make it inherently, morally okay. It does not erase the fact that this man has been essentially grooming his fandom to feel safe meeting/speaking with him so he can coerce those he can snare into sexual acts they're not comfortable with. That is predator behavior, whether strictly 'illegal' in the eyes of a court or not (but ofc I think he should be criminally punished even if I'm not naive enough to think he actually will be, because this IS rape and rape should be criminally punished)

I'm not personally advocating for anyone to give up being in his related fandoms, but what I am personally advocating for is that people don't forget who he is and what he's capable of, especially when he tries to crawl back to where he was (I'm almost certain he will eventually, as I've said).

Again, at the very least, we need to use what little influence we do have to keep him from infiltrating fan spaces again. He should not be on tumblr yukking it up with young people, he should not be at public appearances hitting on teenagers, he should not be given the unrestricted access to fans that he's 'enjoyed' for the past 30+ years because he is not a safe person. While I wish there was more in the way of restorative justice that could be done, I think at very, very least we should do what we can to limit his proximity to people he could hurt in the future. Make sure no one forgets, because sweeping this under the rug means Gaiman gets to hurt more people.

Lastly, no one is the wrong for having been manipulated by him. Let's make that very clear. What we're NOT gonna do is blame ourselves, each other, the victims, etc, for evil acts that Gaiman chose to do himself, time and time and time again. It doesn't help the situation and it certainly doesn't protect future potential victims. We were all duped because we're human and we attach and a lot of us want to believe there are good people out there, particularly those who make art that means so much to us.

And there are. But let's also use this a teaching/learning tool about how much faith we place in famous people in the future, regardless of how 'approachable' and 'safe' they might seem. Let's remember to have a healthy suspicion of creators/famous people that are oddly immersed in fandom spaces- yes, even the ones you still currently like that seem fine, as difficult as that may seem.

At the end of the day, we don't know them or what they're capable of doing or what they might be plotting to do to us. Support victims. Amplify their voices. Don't forget.

[neil-gaiman]

I know you’re not really the person to go to with this but I see you giving advice a lot so I thought you might have something helpful idk. How do you deal with the adults in your life being bigots? My grandpa talking about the border, my dad hating all fat women, both my parents being lowkey racist, almost everyone I know being transphobic, etc. How do I phrase something in a way that makes them stop?

Probably, mostly, you don't. I remember an elderly relative by marriage confiding in me that America had gone into the Second World War on the wrong side. (Not really something that's going to make an English Jew warm to you.) I wondered if there was anything I could say to him that would change who he was and what he thought, and decided there wasn't.

I heard after that that he'd noticed Neil didn't really ever talk to him any longer.

There may be individual private conversations you can have with people, along the lines of "when you say X it upsets me, and it means my friends all think you're super-creepy, so can you not do it when we're around?" But that may be the best you can immediately hope for.

[ickypuppi3]

me after watching that first scene between jj and his dad in outer banks and thinking about how billy and neil coded it all is

[unactive-shroom]

Sal Fisher hates summer.

He hates the gross humidity that manifests under his prosthetic, he hates wearing short sleeves and having his scars on display, not that anyone’s really looking, though. They’re always far too focused on his face.

Except for her. There’s always been something so different about y/n from the moment Larry introduced her to Sal.

“Nice prosthetic” was the first two words she said to him, flashing him a huge grin. Without realising, Sal had already begun the usual “it’s actually a prosthetic” before he caught on to what she had said.

“Oh. How did you know? Did Larry tell you?”

“Actually, my dad had a prosthetic eye, and used to work at the hospital where they fitted them, as well as other prosthetics. I used to work there during the summer, before…”

She had trailed off, looking thoughtful, and slightly sad. Larry was quick to revive the conversation about how y/n had worked part time in so many odd places, including a power plant, a pen factory and a fancy lake resort near Nockfell , which was where they were now.

Y/n was sitting beside Sal on the beach towel, facing her head towards the sun and trying to catch her breath after returning from the lake where Larry, Ashley, Todd and Neil were swimming and chatting loudly.

After a few minutes, she turned to face Sal. “You sure you don’t want to swim? Even just for a bit?”

He shook his head, muttering something about getting his prosthetic damaged by the water.

“Well, okay then. I’ll keep you company.”

Despite Sal adamantly saying that he was fine on his own, and besides, watching Larry try swim is enough entertainment as is, y/n dutifully stayed beside him and read her book, occasionally talking to Sal about something school or ghost related.

Sal Fisher hates summer.

But maybe just a bit less when she’s around.

Note:

Short and sweet, I’ll probably edit this later on but I had to finish it . Possible part two, I kinda want to make this a series. Requests open, btw <3

[chettyspagetti]

Oh man, I can’t wait to open tumblr to see NeilSquared art ! Oh wait let me read this

Au where Space Kid's mom and Neil's dad meet and fall in love and get married

OOOOH!!!

[miheartsedthings]

dom billy x sub reader. angry sex.

He’s had a fight with Neil and takes his anger out on you as stress relief. Full on rough missionary sex where he breaks the bed. Ofc that doesn’t stop him hehe. some after care at the end please.

Took me a minute to figure out how I wanted to do this, but it finally came through! Hope it's everything you hoped for :)

@billysbot

Use Me.

NSFW 18+ only. DomBillyX SubbyReader

Warnings: Angry sex, punishment, mean/aggressive Billy, dacryphilia, rough play, degradation/praise kink (a blend).

Billy can’t seem to ignore calls from his dad and he doesn’t know why. When his name pops up on his phone every instinct in him says to ignore it, yet theres some deeper drive pushing him to follow through. He picks up, and then hates himself for it later. That man has a talent for disguising his cruelty as parental concern and being states away from Hawkins hasn’t changed that. He’ll call every other week to ‘check in’, interrogating Billy about his progress in college or how much he’s making at the garage. What bothers him most is when his dad inquires about you. 

“That girl still putting up with you?” or “Sure you didn’t drug her?” and sometimes, “What do you two even do together? Paint each other’s toenails?” 

All of this is accompanied by laughter, playing it off as a joke until Billy shows it bothers him. At which point Neil turns reprimanding. 

“So damn emotional. Did I not teach you well enough how to be a man?” 

Be a man. 

Billy’s told you about growing up under that command and how impossible it was. Neil didn’t want his son to be a man. He didn’t want a loyal, intelligent, passionate kid. The kid he had. He wanted a pet. Someone he could direct and who would follow orders. Take a kick from time to time and never complain, never fight back, only bend further and further. It was impossible to be this without filling up with some poison. Tidal waves of anger and despair. Billy had felt all of it throughout his life and now he’s away. He’s far from Hawkins and his dad but he’s still carrying it around. His weather follows him, storm clouds erupting above his head when Neil calls. Why the fuck does he answer? 

He started the morning with one of these calls and like no other time it’s filled him with so much fury. His anger persisted through the day, making work drag on. Even his workout was intense as he strained his body, full of indignation. He came home still swelled with anger, his mind rolling over questions that were infuriatingly hard to answer. Why did it still matter what his dad thought of him? Why does he care so much when he makes jokes about you? Why does he answer? Why can’t he stop feeling like a failure no matter what he accomplishes? No matter how often you tell him you love him why can’t he stop wondering when you’re gonna leave? Why can’t he truly trust anyone? 

He comes home, sweaty, and miserable, anger seeping from his pores. He doesn’t look at you when he walks into the little apartment. 

“Hey,” you call from the kitchen where you’re leaning against the counter flipping through recipes on your phone. 

“Hey,” he mumbles and disappears into the bedroom, his gym bag on his shoulder. Instantly, the air is tense. You’ve been around Billy long enough to know when he’s close to erupting. You pad over to the bedroom, leaning against the doorjam. His face is red and tight, eyes dark as he strips from his musty gym stuff. He still won’t look at you. 

“I’m thinking about salmon for dinner but I don’t know.” 

He doesn’t respond, tossing his clothes toward the hamper but not in it. You cross the room and correct this. 

“We could order out–”

“I don’t care.” 

His tone is careless and heavy with warning as he marches naked into the bathroom. Your eyes slip down to watch his beautiful asscheeks as he goes. Then the door shuts, cutting off your view. You hear the shower turn on and plop down on the bed, hearing the old frame creak. You’re not sure what’s got him upset this time, but you’d hoped going to the gym would fix it because you’ve been missing his body all day and it’s killing you. If you were allowed to touch yourself when he wasn’t around, you would’ve played with your toys while he was working out. It would’ve been so nice to fill yourself, fucking your cunt with the dildo he’d gotten you for Christmas, imagining it was him. You catch yourself rubbing your thighs together, your lips so wet they slip against each other. 

You lay back and pull up your skirt and your hand goes to your panties for just a moment. Just one squeeze of your clit between your middle and ring fingers, making it pulse. A soft sound escapes and you snatch your hand away, pulling down your skirt. It doesn’t matter how bad you want it, rules are rules and you have to be good. You get up and cross to the mirror on the dresser. Maybe it’s not so unfortunate that he’s mad tonight. He’ll need a release for all that aggression.  

You change into a dress you know he loves on you. The one you’re not allowed to wear out because it hugs you so well, showing off your cleavage and riding up when you walk. Once dressed, you pluck a book you’ve read a dozen times from the shelf and lay on your stomach on the bed, ass facing the bathroom door. You consider taking off your panties, but he likes peeling them off himself. So you lay there, unable to see a single word on the page because all you can visualize is him diving face-first into your pussy. 

He’d eaten you for a solid hour a week before, slow and sloppy while you lay there melting into his mouth again and again. The memory sends a shiver through you. Then, you remember just the other night, you’d aced a an exam he helped you study for and your reward had been getting filled from behind while a vibrating buttplug pulsed in your ass. You came so hard it made you cry. God, you want that again. Behind you, the shower turns off, and your stomach flutters with anticipation. You stop your wiggling hips, sometimes they move on their own but right now you have to be patient.  

The bathroom door opens and you jolt, staring uncomprehendingly at the book in your hand. You hear Billy stop in the doorway, feel his eyes on you, giving you goosebumps. The silence feels like a living thing. It breathes between you and hardly leaves room for your shallow inhales. He moves, and his towel is flung across the bed beside you, flustering your nerves again. 

“What’cha doin?” 

His tone hasn’t softened a bit, and when you look back at him, you’re met with the same cold expression. If anything, his anger has set in further. His brows are a hard line above his darkened eyes, his jaw set. He looks at you, completely unamused and you’re nervous for a moment that you won’t pull this off. Then, your confidence returns, you raise your brows, your face relaxed into perfect innocence. 

“Me?” you ask, your voice kitten soft, “I thought I’d read a little before making dinner.” 

While you speak, you slowly move back onto your knees, your ass poking up for a moment before you sit up, your legs folded under you and sitting on your heels. The perfect little princess pose. Your gaze moves down his chest, eager to see the rest of his naked body, but he grabs your chin, lording over you. 

“Uh uh, eyes up here,” he says. You look up at him, and you know he can see the desire in your eyes. He shakes his head. “You don’t want this right now, angel.” 

His warning makes you salivate. 

“Of course I do.” you say with complete sincerity “Fuck it all out.” 

A thrill pulses down into his groin. He glares. 

“I’m gonna hurt you.” 

“Please.”

He scoffs. 

“Really, baby?” 

You nod, your mind full of fantazises, his cock driving into you, your eyes spilling over with tears, his strong arms forcing you into a hold while he cums on your face or in your ass or- he yanks you out of your thoughts and off the bed. 

“Fuck-so fuckin dumb, you sweet little idiot-get on your knees.” 

You obey, dropping to your knees, back in Princess Position. Finally allowed to look, your eyes are filled with his beautiful dick as he strokes it in your face. Your mouth falls open before he can ask, your tongue lulling out to eagerly flick at the drops of precum seeping from the tip. He grabs a fistful of your hair, sharply yanking you back. 

“Did I say you could taste it yet?” you shake your head. “Huh?” 

“No.” He smacks you quickly across the cheek. “No, sir.” you say, nearly panting from excitement. Your brain goes foggy as you watch him stroke himself. He lifts up his shaft, pushing your face underneath. Instinctively, you gently suck one of his balls into your mouth. 

“There,” he groans. “That’s what you get until you earn my cock.” 

You accept this, setting to work messaging his balls with your mouth, one and then the other, making him groan each time you envelope one of them. Your hands are crossed behind your back, and you know if you move them he’ll punish you, but you want so badly to get a hand around the base of his balls while you suck them. You moan at the thought, and the feeling of his nutsack on your face. 

He pulls your head back and you open your mouth just in time for him to roughly shove his dick down your throat. 

“Fuck,” he groans, pushing your head onto it with both hands. You squirm as it meets the back of your throat and he starts fucking your face harder than you were prepared for. Your throat fills with thick spit, your eyes already stinging. “You’re such a good slut, baby,” he says “Dumb. Fucking. Princess.” 

With those three words he thrusts his cock into the back of your throat three sharp times and on the last time you gag, your throat starting to hurt.

“Ohhh,” he chuckles darkly, then pulls your head back just long enough to stick his fingers down your throat, collect a gooey spread of saliva and slap it across your face, rubbing it over your lips before ramming himself back in. He helps guide your head as you take his length, the sound of his cock churning your throat mixes with his gruff moans. You can't help wiggling, finding friction grinding against your heel. You moan as you work your clit against your heel, your panties so wet they're stuck to you. 

He yanks out his dick and bends to bring his dark eyes level with yours, glaring.

“Are you fucking yourself without my permission?” 

You shake your head. You didn't think it was possible for his expression to harden any more, but it does, and his grip on your hair tightens.  

“You're picking the wrong time to disobey me.”

He commands you to move your heels out to the sides so you're no longer able to sit on them. Then, he reaches down and yanks up the front of your thong, making you yelp as your sensitive pussy is instantly in pain. 

“Hold this.” 

Your hand takes up the thong, now pulled taut up to your belly button, so tight you feel every pulse of blood to your already aching clit. He reaches down and smacks it, making you jolt and yelp again. 

“Don't you move.” 

You nod, and then he's back in your mouth. He slams himself in until your lips are flush against him and then fucks your throat. Spit dribbles from your chin and you struggle to breath as he stuffs your mouth over and over. You can't stop feeling the ach in your clit, screaming for release from the tension of your panties. Billy uses your throat like a stress reliever, unrelenting in the way he pounds into it, his head falling back in pleasure. Your eyes travel up, admiring the rolling mounds of muscle along his body. His strong, arms and chiseled shoulders, all the way up to his throat, where his Adam’s apple is on display, God, you sometimes fantasize about rubbing your clit around that perfect bone. 

Your jaw burns, and your eyes water, clouding your vision. Your mouth is just a hot, softened hole for him to play with. He looks down at you, admiring the empty look in your eye. Meanwhile, your legs are falling asleep. 

“There she is, my favorite little dummy, finally being good for me.” 

A rush of pleasure pulses harshly through your tortured cunt and tears finally spill down your cheeks from the roaming flushes of pain in your body. Billy gives you a few more merciless thrusts before pulling your head back, leaving you slack jawed and panting, drool slicked down your chin. 

“Get up,” he says, grabbing you by the arm he forces you to bend over. You know better than to let go of your panties or move your other arm from behind your back, so you land face first in the duvet while he runs a finger along your horribly tender pussy. 

“Looks like it hurts.” He says, a sadistic thrill in his voice. 

“Yes sir,” you whimper. You don't see the little smile on his face when you say that. 

“Let me help.” 

You think he's going to say you can let go, instead he smacks your ass so hard it genuinely scares you, forcing you to cry out in pain and surprise. The sting is still bright when he does it again and then a third time, drawing pained whimpers every time. You bury your face into the duvet. 

“Better, yeah?” 

You don't answer, and he's not really asking. He shoves two fingers in your pussy, a bittersweet rush of pleasure bumps against your tortured clit. He moans at the feeling of your pussy gripping his fingers. 

“So greedy for me.” 

He grabs you, tossing you on your back so roughly the bed frame creaks again. You quickly correct your hand, pulling it from behind you and placing it on your belly, where he likes it. Your eyes still teary, you're praying he releases your clit, but be doesn't. Instead, he kneels on the ground, a cruel grin taking over his features as he places his hot mouth over the cloth choking your pussy. It's so close to being pleasurable, so close to the thing you want that it actually makes you start whimpering. 

“Please,” you whine, earning a rough slap against your clit, making you cringe in pain. 

“Did I say you could speak?” 

You shake your head. 

“No, sir.” 

“I didn't think so.” He shakes his head “I'm really trying to be nice to you, baby.” 

He grabs you and repositions you on the bed, getting between your legs. Your mind fills with pleading for him, your desperation clear on your face as you impatiently watch him stroke his cock just outside your entrance. 

“Hold that leg back,” he commands and you use your free hand to obey, holding your leg behind the knee while he pushes down the other one, lining up with your cunt. Please, please. But your hopes are dashed when he pulls your panties aside just enough to push his cock in, but not enough to end your suffering. A little sob leaks out as his thick length fills you. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes rolling closed. “Such a perfect pussy.” 

His cock fills you, adding internal pressure to the strain against your clit. His hand comes down over your throat as he picks up speed, staring you right in the eye as he drills into you harder and harder until every smack stings your ass. He fucks you like he hates you and all you can do is take it, tears streaking down your cheeks. Pained little sobs blend with moans as your body is overwhelmed with conflicting tides. Meanwhile, Billy is in pure bliss. His cock stretches your pussy just enough, filling you so much you're kind of amazed you can take all of him inside. 

He grabs the hand holding your panties and gives it a yank, forcing you to yelp in pain, a fresh crop of tears start falling and at the sight of it Billy moans again, keeping up his punishing rhythm. He pounds you into the bed, and after one particularly hard thrust you feel one of the support beams snap underneath you. For the first time all day, you see Billy smile. His hand goes to your panties again and you flinch, bracing for the pain. 

“Want these off?” 

You nod rapidly. 

“Yes, sir. Please.” 

 “So polite, what a sweet little whore you are.” 

He slips your panties off and the relief that washes over you is so immense you start to cry as he gets back to fucking you. 

“Fuck,” you whimper out, unable to help yourself. The contrast is so incredible, and your clit is so sensitive that every brush against his pelvis makes your body shiver. Billy zeros in on this and asks you to touch yourself while he fucks you, your other hand still holding back your leg. All you can handle are slow swirls on your clit, but it's enough to make the shivers roaming your body constant and heavy. 

Your eyes go unfocused as you get lost in the feeling of him fucking into you over and over. It feels so fucking perfect it makes you sob. 

“Baby,” the word dribbles out against your will and his mouth comes down over yours. He's so good to you, helping you keep quiet because he knows you can't help it. He's so thoughtful. Your breath catches as your stomach drops and you feel yourself getting close. A nervous moan purrs onto his tongue while your pussy is slowly turning to liquid gold. 

“Yeah,” he coos against your lips, “Cum on my cock, cum like a slut.” 

Your pussy walls squeeze around him while your whole body thrums from the inside out, humming like a rung bell. You can't help the tears and the babbling words falling out of your shaky lips as you ride the delicious fullness of this feeling. His hand moves to the back of your neck, still roughly fucking you until his orgasm forces him out of rhythm. 

“Fuck,” he pants “fuck, I love my perfect slut.” 

Those words and his perfect cock are enough to set you off again, your eyes rolling back as he drills you into oblivion for the second time. He pumps thick, hot cum into you, coating you inside and then keeps going, groaning loudly. He kisses your forehead, your brain bleary. Your lower body hardly feels like it exists anymore, all you can feel is a luxurious pleasure and all you can see are his gorgeous blue eyes.

Fuck. This is all you need in life. 

Finally, his hips slow to a stop and the two of you are left panting. The weight of his warm body slowly sinks onto you as he breathes onto your chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him. 

He kisses your neck. 

“You okay?” he asks, his voice soft and low. You nod. 

“Are you?” 

His arms wrap around you. 

“I needed that so much, baby.” 

You push your hand into his hair, gently stroking his scalp. 

“What had you so upset, lovey?” 

He snuggles into you, still buried inside you as his body recovers. He groans. 

“Fuck it. C’mere.” 

The two of you make your way into the bathroom where he joins you in a shower. You take your time together, washing each other and taking long breaks to mingle tongues in the gathering steam. His hands are so gentle as they move across your body. So different from the way he was in bed, as a living ball of anger. You lean your head against his shoulder, trying to keep your hair dry but at the same time not caring. 

Later, in warmth and the soft leftover smell of your bodies on the sheets, he pulls you into his lap. He takes your hand into his own, his fingers running along your palm as you lay against him, hearing the rhythm of his breathing. 

“Why do I answer?” 

You’re nearly asleep when he asks this to no one, and your eyes flutter open to find the room growing dark. You can hardly see him in the fading light. Maybe that’s what he wants. In any case, he keeps his eyes down at your hands. You know instantly what he means.

“I don’t know,” you say, “There’s probably plenty of reasons.” 

You turn, touching a hand to his cheek and kissing the other one, your lips trail down to his neck where you nuzzle in, amazed, as you always are, by the warmth he collects inside himself. 

“Fuckin stupid thing to do.” He whispers. 

“It’s not stupid.” you say, softly, your fingers slipping up to play with the hair behind his ear. “It’s just more than he deserves. He’s your dad, so there’s supposed to be something to gain from answering his calls. But he’s a failure, so it’s just bullshit every time.” you yawn, “You’re not stupid, lovey. You’re just too generous.” 

He turns, finding your mouth and enveloping it into a slow, lazy kiss as you lounge on the broken bed. His tongue is soft and salty. 

“Hmm,” you hum as the kiss gives way, “I love you, too.”

xoxo~