#so sushi I mean sue me

[loganslowdown4]

Do you ever think about how Virgil may have made this Freudian slip because of the octopus / kraken connection to Remus?? 👀🐙

[franklinfinley]

Hey! I'm Franklin, he/they. First year student at Naranja Academy, but I've been through several Gym Circuts for 7 years at this point. The Treasure Hunt is well underway, and things are looking great! I'm a ghost and fire type specialist, as well as a general Drowzee/Hypno specialist LOL

MY CURRENT TEAM:

Koraidon: a strange form of Cyclizar given to me by my friend Arven, originally owned by his mother Professor Sada. He prefers not to battle, but he will if he needs to. He maily loves acting as a riding mount and food-stealer >:P

Lullay: my service Hypno and first partner Pokemon. We've been a duo for 14 years now! She doesn't primarily battle, she mostly helps with my anxiety and insomnia. She steps up for defense if we need it, though.

Tabasco: my Skeledirge and chosen starter for Naranja Academy! He's a little scrapper and eager to prove himself in a fight, and just as eager to sit back, sing his little songs, and eat all my oranges. Little orange heathen even as he grows up

Sparky: my Luxray! He's a bundle of energy and a reckless battler. He loves nothing more than getting to flaunt his stuff and also wail and cry and flail his fists on the ground when he loses

Sushi: my Curly Tatsugiri, and an odd quiet fellow. He likes splashing water on the other teammates for funny pranks and curling up in my collar or hair. That being said, he is a FIERCE battler. Honestly kinda scary with what he can pull off from such a tiny body...

Arthur: my Beartic! He's very polite with me and the team, but fierce when it comes to defense. It takes a while for him to warm up to new people, but those he warms up to he holds close.

Strawberry Lemonade: my shiny Amped-Up Toxtricity, who i rescued from the wild as a Shadow variant. She's clingy and packs a MEGA punch, and cocky with her skills as a battler. Now that she's come out of her shell, her punk rock personality really shines through.

Montez: my Garchomp, and just what you'd expect from such a feared creature. She's the meanest of the group and always first to volunteer for a fight. She swings hard and fights with pure power. Now that she's calmed, she's the perfect guard 'mon.

Things at Naranja are going great! My friend Nemona has shown me all the ropes, and I feel like I'm gonna have a good few years here. This might just be my Yelling About Things blog. So if you're into that thing feel free to tag along!

[OOC UNDER CUT]

Heallo this is the in character blog i have for my self insert!! I follow from my main @yatgb

Be prepared for Main Character And Mary Sue Shenanigans, and dont be afraid to ask abt stuff he mentions in posts!! I plan to have this going as a whole thing with arcs and all that, basically going through all of scarvi's plot, including DLC down the line. This WAS gonna be an art-based askblog but i dont rlly have the time for one of those :( but ill be posting story snippets later down the lind!

Pelipper Mail is on as long as its something small, he wont accept like new pokemon or money or anything. Think like what youd get from a mystery gift :D Magic Anons are off!

Also, dont take everything Franklin says at face-value. He's got a loong history, and some secrets to hide. There's a chance he could be lying about some stuff ',:) expect a well meaning but unreliable narrator

That being said, I like to do my own worldbuilding so whenever he goes into biology details dont look too hard into it. We're havin fun here. I also don't plan on doing any multiverse shenanigans. This is a self contained story about an oc thats very dear to me :D so just go with the flow. I might interact with other blogs as long as its feasible they could on Rotomblr connected through a multiverse.

Other character interaction is encouraged, as well has sentient pokemon except Legendaries! He has his own lore with a lot of legends it would be a little wack

Here's what he looks like! With Lullay!

[janschildhooddump]

Jan (re)Plays Today: Sue’s Sushi Restaurant (슈의 회전초밥 - 슈게임)

Another iconic Avatar Sue game that was super popular back in around the 2000s or so. Here’s the link to the Ruffle-emulated game if anyone wants to (re)play it ♡ 

The main menu looks like this:

The game looks like this:

Does it ring a bell now?

This food-serving game is a basic point-and-click game where you have to serve sushi on a conveyor belt. At the beginning of each level, you will need to remember the serving rules (which sushi goes with which bowl color). To make sushi, click on the ingredients and place them on the prep table according to the order: Rice (the white thing on the right), wasabi (green leaf in the small bowl next to the rice), seaweed (if needed), and the fish, then finally drag the finished sushi to the bowl (ikr, sushi bowl sounds weird lol). Each bowl needs two sushi to complete. When a finished sushi bowl reaches a customer, they will automatically grab and eat it. Once they have finished eating they will reward you with a flower. The number of flowers on the top bar indicates the amount of sushi bowls you need to serve to complete the stage.

Be quick, or your customers will get impatient and leave your restaurant!

She be leaving an 1 star review on yelp later *sedge noise*

The hardest part of the game for me WAS how to serve the blue-haired girl on the left side because the conveyor belt runs from left to right and there would be so little time to make a complete sushi bowl before it reaches her. It must have taken me like 10 replays to find out the belt’s mechanism: the bowls are NOT replaced/refreshed after each time they show up - they move in circle. That means that I can make ahead a sushi bowl and just wait for it to reach her later (make sure that the other customers are having their own sushi to begin with). 

Waiting~

Each bowl color is assigned a certain point at the beginning of each stage. The higher the points, the higher your final score will be. My go-to tip to achieve a high final score is to only serve high-point bowls. This is my final score: 

One of my most fav Sue Foodie game ♡ 

Thinking of which Sue game to play next xD

[angryraptor13]

I would use rice paper and make sushi rolls!

Ingredients:

Printed rice paper

Sushi rice

Sliced vegetables, to taste - I like carrots and cucumber! Needs to be cut long & thin.

Protein, to taste - I like imitation crab, boiled shrimp, or eggs. Tamago egg or scrambled egg, also sliced thin! (I can't always find dashi stock for tamago egg, so sue me 😜)

Sushi roller

Lay the rice paper out flat on the sushi roller

Layer the sushi rice onto the rice paper. Leave about 1" off one edge free of rice; cover the rest completely in a thin layer at least 1/8"~1/4" thick. More rice means less stuffing will fit!

Lay out the stuffings on the rice, opposite the clean edge, about 1" or so away from the edge of the rice/paper.

4. Roll it up!

5. Slice it if you want. You could also eat it like a burrito.

glad that im not popular enough to have an evil shadow version of my blog that exists just to make contradictions on my posts

[blondeslovesushi]

Welcome

Hi!!!!! I can't believe you have found this blog. To be honest this blog is really just me trying to understand my brain as it confuses me quite a bit. My dad always told me that you cannot eat an elephant in one big bite, instead you must take one small bite at a time. This metaphor never entirely resonated with me as I'm a vegetarian (besides sushi ... sue me) but I understand what he was saying. So this blog is a way for me to break down everything that is going on in my brain and to try and figure things out. This may be my saving or my downfall honestly but we shall see.

If you have found this blog - I apologise as I am not a writer by any means, shape or form. Xx

[mint-moon25]

Tuwing Umuulan - REGINE VELASQUEZ

BENIHANA - SUSHI

MIAMI - MOST - LIKELY - JUST OBEYED

YOU - CAN - HAVE - BENIHANA - IN - CA

BENIHANA - IN - FLORIDA - SO - ITS YES

SPANISH - SPEAKING - COOKS

NOT - BENIHANA - IN - TOKYO

LOS ANGELES - SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA

LIKE - PUBLIX - 13 ST - WHITE - MALE - AS

CASHIER - ASKED - SPANISH - COOK - DO

THEY - ACCEPT - GIFT - CARD - I - SAID

MASTERCARD

COOK - SAID - ‘THEY - DON’T’

HE - MEANS - THEY - DON’T - ACCEPT

67,000 - A - MEDICAL - RACE THEY DO

NOT ACCEPT - LICENSED CARDIOLOGIST

LICENSED - BULLET & KNIFE - SURGEONS

LICENSED - RN - REGISTERED - NURSES

ICU - INTENSIVE - CARE - UNITS

I - SAID - U - SHOULD - PUT - A - SIGN - OUT

SIDE - NO - LICENSED - CARDIOLOGIST OR

LICENSED - SURGEONS - ALLOWED INSIDE

SO - TOLD - HIM - WE - WILL - SUE

NOT - SEND - THE - YAKUSA - LARGEST

CRIMINAL - ORGANIZATION - IN THE WORLD

RESIDES - IN - TOKYO - JAPAN - CONDUCTS

SECRETLY - THEIR - MEETINGS

$906.7 BILLION - PER - DAY - EA - EMPLOYEE

AND MUST NAME - AN - HEIR - 2 - WILL ALSO

CONTINUE - PAYMENT - FOREVER - TAX PAID

SO - SINCE - JUST - SPANISH - SPEAKING

I - SAID - THEN - WILL - TASTE - FAKE

OVER 2 HRS - WAIT - 4 - BENIHANA OF TOKYO

LOS ANGELES CA - AND - WORTH - IT AS THEY

USE - THEIR - SKILLS - 2 - MAKE - SUPER FAST

THEIR - TEA CUPS - ENDED - UP - ON - THEIR

HEADS - SUPER - FAST - COOKING - FRIED

RICE - SHRIMP - STEAK - AND - MORE TOO

SO - BOUGHT - 11 SEPT - RECALLING DAY

NEW YORK - STEAK - BOWL - $16

NOODLES - WITH - THAT - HIBACHI - BOWL

RICE - AND - I - SAID - ASIA - CHANGING ON

IMPORTANCE - OF - RICE - SWITCHING - TO

NOODLES - MORE - AND - MORE ...

I - SAID - THEY - WENT - FR - PLASTIC CARD

2 - PAPER - SAVINGS - AND - JUST BECAUSE

SAYS - BPA FREE - DON’T - QUITE - BELIEVE

THAT - MASTERCARD - PAPER 

RECYCLABLE - SAFER - THAN - PLASTIC AND

THOUSANDS - SAVED - THEY - SHOULDN’T B

PUNISHED - SO - HE - TRIED - TWICE - AS HE

SAW - THEIR - EMBLEMS - AND MASTERCARD

WENT - THROUGH

SHARED - CELEBRATING - MY - TOKYO - MOM’s

24 YEARS - DISEASED - WHO - GAVE - ME - LIFE

JESSICA - WASN’T - THERE - MAYBE - WASN’T

RELEASED - SO - HOSPITAL - 6 DAYS - SO ME

WON’T - WASTE - TODAY - TGIF-  FRIDAY

SO - IF - HAD - PILLS - 2 - AIR CREMATE - ME

IF - I - WASN’T - IMPORTANT - WOULD - HAVE

TAKEN - AND - DISAPPEARED - BE WITH MOM

PASSED - BY - SAW - WRINKLED - PRUNE BAG

AND - HER - INCEST - RETARDED - SPANISH

SON - HER - HAIR - SHORTER - PRUNE - BAG

SHE - DIDN’T - SAY - ‘B’ - GET - LOST - SINCE

SHE - DOESN’T - OWN - MAIN - LIBARY

THEN - THEY - LEFT - WHY - MONOPOLY - IS

ILLEGAL - IN - THE - UNITED STATES

BECAUSE - THEY - AFFECT - OUR - EATING 2

I - TOOK - ONLY - COMPUTER - EXPRESS 

AVAILABLE - JUST - RETURNED - PINK - STICKS

4 - HIKING - BOTTOM - KEPT - COMING - OFF SO

DANGEROUS - AFTER - FOLDED - IT - AGAIN ITS

NO - LONGER - FUNCTIONING - NOT - GREAT

DESIGN - JUST - THE - COLOR - IS - PINK AND

THAT’s - IT - WHO - KNOWS - WHEN - GETTING

IMAGE - WENT - 2 - DOLLAR - GENERAL

GOT - MY - MEDS - TAKING - SOON ...

$26.74 - AND - ANOTHER - COMING

JOANA - BLK - FEMALE MOM - TWINS - ALSO A

SPANISH - SPEAKER - TOLD - BLK - MALE - OF

CITY - OF - MIAMI - I - WANT - MY - PURSE - TOO

SHE - ROBBED - ME - OF - WALKING - STICK - HE

SAID - MY - THINGS - IN - HER - CAR - AND - SHE

DIDN’T - RETURN - ANYTHING - YESTERDAY TOO

THIEVES

RE-ORDERING

HER - PLAN - WAS - BAKER - ACTING - THEN

9 YEARS - MENTAL - HOSPITAL

SOMEONE - ELSE - GETS - MY - 1 BED - APT

SHE - AND - CAMILLUS HOUSE - GETS - MY

THINGS - BECAUSE - US POLICE - JUST NOT

SMART - ENOUGH - 2 - KNOW - ITS - TIME - 4

FOREIGNERS - 2 - LEAVE

WORLD - FORGIVE - AMOUNTS - FORGOT

500 BILLION - X - 50 - TAX - PAID - PER DAY

OPERATION - DITCH - THE - USA

MONEY - 4 - NOT - ENTERING - THE - USA

DAILY - RECEIVE - 4 - NOT - COMING HERE

SO - TODAY - FR - 06 SEPT 24 

ROBBED - BY - JOANA - SHE - WANTS - 2 KNOW

MY - APT NO - WANTS - 2 - CHECK - UNIT - 2 SEE

IF - ACCEPTABLE - 2 - CITY - OF - MIAMI - 

REST - OF - PAYER

MINE - 30% - OF - SSI - OVER - $303 - MONTHLY

THEIR - APP - 2 - PAY - FREE - PAYMENT 

BLACKMAIL - BY - JOANA 

SHOW - AND - TELL - HER - APT - NO - 4 - THINGS

BELONGING - 2 - ME - MY PROPERTY - MIAMI - FL

14TH - VIOLATED

NO - US STATE - CAN - DEPRIVE - A - PERSON

OF - PROPERTY 

THEY - DEPRIVE - ME - OF - PROPERTY - ALSO

MY - PURSE - AND - WALKING - STICK

BIBLE - ‘FOR - MY - SHAME - A - DOUBLE PORTION

IN - THIS - LAND’ - DOUBLE - TIMES - IN - NAME OF

JESUS - SON - OF - THE - LIVING - GOD

[dead-eyes-roll]

Alright, so I'm acting fishy, so sushi... I mean, sue me.

The DWIT Thread is officially CLOSED!! It will start at 1:00 pm EST today!!

Cast-

@reptilianrapscallion420 as C! Thomas

@nico-the-overlord as Patton

@quillshehim as Logan

@lemon-is-tired as Virgil

@thatonelesbianfander-reblogs as Remus

@briefdreamergarden as Roman

It’s going to start through reblogging THIS POST! Cast, keep notifications on for everyone else including me so you can stay on track of each line. Be sure to have the episode/transcript ready so you can keep your lines accurate :)

[coconut-cluster]

This isn't even important but do u ever think about how there are so many more prinxiety moments in season one than there are in season two bc I do a l o t and it makes me appreciate the moments we get in season two so much like. I see the "no one hates you" nd I go nuts. They say "mistakes" and look at eachother like That and suddenly I've gone feral. It's a whole 'nother experience fjvjfkkvldlr

no SAME THO, and I think it has so much to do with the tones and messages of the old vs. new episodes!! Season one was mostly suuuuper lighthearted and jokey and fun, very “haha princey and anxiety held hands” yknow? But with Accepting Anxiety, we got our first big glance into the world of Thomas’ genuine struggles - Virgil had insecurities and doubts about his role in Thomas’ life that needed to be addressed for Thomas to actually live a happy life. It was still funny, but it was a serious problem that the other Sides had to understand and work on with him. 

With season two, we’re getting a far more nuanced look at the Sides’ relationships - Logan and Roman butting heads about basic life aspirations, Deceit and Remus interacting with the “core four,” Patton and Virgil starting to argue more, etc - and I think the moments we get between them are so much more touching than in season one because they mean more. Virgil assuring Roman no one hates him, for instance, is interesting on a bunch of different levels because it:

directly contrasts their original/usual dynamic of being standoffish or insulting, even jokingly, to one another 

acknowledges a fear or insecurity of Roman’s, especially interesting because he’s so usually the confident and arguably arrogant one 

highlights Virgil’s intuition in regards to anxieties/flaws/insecurities in the others

shows that either/both a. Virgil for sure cares about the others (and is a sap) more than he admits, and b. he and Roman’s relationship has potential to be more outwardly friendly in the future

The moments between them - and the Sides in general - have so much more depth and characterization to them yknow!!! Roman’s jokey “Anxiety is the fairest of them all!” is hilarious but holds NOTHING to his monologue in Accepting Anxiety about how Virgil makes them better, like COME ON MAN. COME ON 

[trutrustories]

now that REMUS is in the picture, I cant stop thinking about the actual feature film. Like... TWO hours of colorful gay musical (because of course it would be the musical) where Thomas falls in love and right after that something happens and all of his sides suddenly disappear from Thomas’s imaginary world and appear in real world…  that would be just SO FREAKIN' EPIC!!! For the first time it would be Thomas, who would be knocked out. Like… he would be without all of his sides, so he would be probably like 10th Doctor right after regeneration. Imagine all of the sides (almost all of them) scared of the fact, that anyone can see them, hear them and they can really could messed Thomas life up. So they have a discussion about how they really need to work as a team now, and how they need to make one of them to pretend to be real Thomas while rest of the group would try to hide and find out what happened and how they can go back to how things were  before.  (OH GOD Deceit would be just so helpfull pretending to be real Thomas) Of course this plan would go wrong on so many levels. REMUS would run away (obviously) because he would be finaly free to try anything he wanted – but  well this is real world, so he would end up in custody pretty quickly. Then Thomas’s new romantic interest would get involved in the situation, same as Joan and all of Thomas’s friend. And they would all worked together to clean up the mess Remus caused.       In the end they would find the way to make it back in Thomas’s mind but before that happens, that one cute guy would get to know all of the sides od Thomas’s personality.  He would TRULY get to know Thomas and he would falll in love with him... Jeeeeesus, I won't be able to work today, will I

[truthundressing]

harrys pronouns are sue/she

[pan-rainbows-are-me]

🥺🥺

i wanna be the bitch james potter chases and is hopelessly in love with

[supercorpkid]

You are almost you again.

Supergirl, B!D, Kara Danvers x Sister!Reader, Alex Danvers x Sister!Reader, Lena Luthor x Reader, Reader insert.

Word Count: 2820.

Warning: Eating disorder! Please don’t read it if it’s a trigger! Please!

Notes: prompt by @greysgirl2456, I hope i did ok with this one.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you came in. God, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” Lena says as soon as you walk into her office. “I’m going to sue your company if they send you on another business trip soon.”

“I know, right?” You come closer, ready to walk into her open and welcoming arms. “I’ve been out of National City so much, yesterday I forgot my own address. I almost ended up in Kara’s place.”

“She would’ve loved that.” Lena smiles and hugs you tenderly. She breathes in, sounding extremely satisfied to have you in her arms. “I’ve missed you, darling.”

“I’ve missed you too, Lee.” You finally part the hug, looking at her with a wide smile.

“Come, let’s catch up over lunch.”

It’s a simple word. Lunch. Jesus, people talk about lunch and dinner all the time, and yet this simple word makes your body shiver in anticipation. Because lunch involves eating, and you, well, you’re not particularly fond of eating.

Except there is one thing you learned with this particular group of people, the Superfriends, is that everything has to be done over food. This is mainly because Kara is an alien and needs or likes food more than anything else in this world, but it became a habit to them. And that, unfortunately, means that you have to join.

“Oh,” Your body stiffens, when she moves around her office, with a big sushi platter in hand. “I didn’t know that’s what we were doing. Had I known I wouldn’t have eaten on my way here.”

“Oh no, really? I ordered your favorite.” You look at the food on her hands. This was once your favorite, she is right. But now… “Just have a bite with me.” Lena pleads moving to the couch. “All this traveling is making you lose too much weight.”

“What? No, it hasn’t.” You look at yourself, on your much larger clothes, because yeah, you have been losing weight and haven’t been around in National City much and when you are, the last thing you want to do is go out to buy new ones.

“Y/N.” Your name comes in a condescending tone that you hate. “Please. You’re like half of who you used to be.”

You move to the couch, sitting next to her. You must be doing some kind of face because she reaches out for your hand, supportively.

“I know how hard it is eating right when work is so demanding of you. Trust me, I’ve been there.” She smiles, fond and sweet and you agree with your head. Sure, let’s blame it on work, this sure is easier.

“Yeah, you get it.” You smile back at her, praying she doesn’t realize how fake you sound. “I’m basically living on a plane.”

“I know, darling.” She reassures you, sensing your guilt. “So why don’t we just sit here for 30 minutes, eat, and catch up on each other’s lives?” She asks, not breaking eye contact. “Shall we?”

You can’t say no. You wish you could, it would be a lot easier, but she might find it weird, and you can't have people catching on.

“Sure.” You smile, though on the inside you’re feeling quite the opposite. Right now, you wish you had Kara’s powers so you can fake an emergency and just fly out the window.

Yet, you eat, and talk, and do exactly what Lena had planned.

It’s something else, this thing you’re going through. You would feel guilty if you didn’t sit here and eat with Lena, but once you do, you also feel guilty as hell for putting so much food inside you.

It has become an obsession. One you haven’t found a way to break. One you don’t want anyone to know or worry about. One that makes you feel shameful and worse every time you do it, which only leads you to doing it more.

“Ms. Luthor? I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch, but the scientists need feedback on the new prototype.” Lena’s assistant shoots as soon as she opens the door and when she is done talking, Lena looks at you apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ll just say yes or no to this. Five minutes tops.”

“Oh,” you stand up when you see her moving. “I could-I could leave.”

“No, please don’t.” Lena holds your hand. “There’s still a lot to talk about and I haven’t seen you in weeks. Please stay. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, yeah, sure.”

Lena smiles at you, before accompanying her assistant out of her office, leaving you alone. You’ve been here too many times before, so you know exactly where the bathroom is. You look around furtively, before making your way there. There’s no one around, but you make sure to check it three times before going inside.

“Oh, I forgot the-” Lena looks at you, kneeled before her toilet, and your mind goes blank for a second, before being filled with crappy explanations in an angry rush. “Oh, Y/N.”

It’s the way she says your name that gives away the fact that she knows exactly what is going on. Which makes your heart sit heavy inside, and the food comes back out without you having to force it.

“The sushi-” You try when you raise your head again. Lena doesn’t look like she’ll believe whatever you have to say for yourself, but she still makes her way to where you are and holds your hair in a high ponytail.

“You’re ok. Come on, darling. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You’re filled with shame, and your face burns red in embarrassment. You can’t believe you got caught. You can’t believe Lena knows. She knows. It’s all you can think about. It’s your most stealthy and dark secret, something you wouldn’t -couldn’t- even tell your therapist, and yet, Lena knows.

And if Lena knows, then she’ll tell Kara. Then Kara will obviously tell Alex. Alex will tell her wife Kelly. And oh my God, the food tries to make its way back to your mouth and you breathe deep holding it down. Because somewhere between Lena helping you up and your negative thoughts while your mind spirals out of control, Lena is cleaning your face so you can’t throw up again.

She cleans one tear, you think, when her thumb strokes your face lightly. “It’s ok.” She guarantees.

But it’s not ok. It hasn’t been ok in months. It has been nothing, but you being stuck inside your raging mind, with a voice yelling that you’re not good enough, that everything you do is wrong, that you can’t control anything in your life except this. It’s a voice you haven’t heard before compelling you to act in the most harmful ways you can think of.

How do you tell Lena that you have been demanding, begging, for more work so you will have something else to think about aside from what to eat or not, how hard to exercise, how many calories you need to eat to survive, and how many can you take away from that, so you can continue to be in control of your body?

“Darling, you can talk to me.”

Can you? What can you say for yourself?

“Yeah, um, I think the sushi didn’t sit well.” You finally detach yourself from her, smiling through the tears. “Sorry you had to see that.” You flush and smile harder, forced, fake. “I should get going. You have to work, and I still have so many things to do.” You pass her going straight for your things, still talking, so she doesn’t have time to argue. “Thanks for this, Lee. I’ll see you soon, ok?”

“You promise?” Lena asks before you slip out the door.

“Yeah.”

What’s one more lie for someone who hasn’t been able to tell the truth for months?

To say that you threw yourself into work after that would be an understatement. Your sisters have been texting you for days about game night, then sisters night, then a CatCo event, but all of their texts are left on ‘seen’.

Sisters group chat:

Alex: What’s the point of a group chat if only me and Kara talk?

Alex: Y/N do you mind letting your sisters know that you are ok?

Kara: Y/N! ANSWER NOW OR I’LL SEND THE COPS!

Y/N: Gosh, you guys are so melodramatic. I’m fine!

Alex: Oh, would you look at that. She is alive, everyone!

Kara: Is she? Someone else might have her phone.

Kara: Picture now or I’ll still send the cops.

Y/N: Who are you sending over, Maggie?

Alex: Don’t be funny. Picture of yourself from now or I’ll call mom and tell her you’re on drugs.

Y/N: You wouldn’t dare.

Alex: Try me.

Y/N: You’re a dick.

Y/N: photo 📷

Y/N: Happy now?

Y/N: Hello?

Y/N: Alex DO NOT CALL MOM!

You abandon your phone on the dinner table, rubbing your eyes, trying to get rid of the sleep that is creeping in. You still have a lot of work to do, you need more coffee if you want to keep working.

It’s so fast the way your brain starts calculating how many calories you can still have today and if an extra cup of black coffee is worth all of it.

“Just one more.” You agree with your raging mind, while promising yourself you’ll eat even less tomorrow.

You’re on your way to the kitchen counter when you hear the doorbell. If they sent the cops, you swear to God.

“Baby.” Kara says, arms open wide, pulling you inside her arms for a long hug.

“I sent the picture!” You don’t make any move out of her embrace, but you’re annoyed they are both here after you did exactly what they asked and sent proof you’re still alive.

“And we saw that you’re still working!” Alex makes her way inside your apartment with two bags in her hands. It’s food. You can smell it and your stomach growls. “It’s late and it’s Sunday. Honestly Y/N, give it a rest.”

“I can’t.” You finally let yourself out of Kara’s embrace and turn around to look at Alex. “I can’t give it a rest until I’m done, ok? I have a deadline, Alex.”

“Baby.” Kara says again, and you turn to look at her this time. She looks at you in pity. “I haven’t seen you in a month, and I know you’re hungry. Let’s just eat together.”

“I’m not hungry.” Your stomach growls, proving that you are lying. “It’s growling with impatience.”

“Yeah, sure.” Kara ignores you, making her way inside to where Alex is. “I swear, next time I hug you I might break your bones if you keep forgetting to eat because of work.”

Hm.

They don’t know.

Lena didn’t tell them about the, um, incident.

“Guys, I appreciate you both worrying about me.” No, you don’t. You wish they would just leave you alone. “But this is a huge project, and the deadline is so close. I promise we’ll hang out more once I’m done with this.”

Kara, ignoring you completely, goes to your laptop, while Alex opens your fridge.

“Gee, there’s nothing here. This is either a fake fridge or you’ve found out a way to live without food.”

“Great, go around my apartment, why not?” You mumble to yourself and groan when Kara closes your laptop. “GODDAMNIT KARA!”

“Don’t worry, I know how to save a document.” She moves the laptop out of the way, along with all of your papers, making space for the food that Alex is bringing to set on the table.

“Seriously, I’m really busy.” You make your way to them, crossing your arms and hardening your features. Something’s gotta work.

“Sit down and have dinner, Y/N.” Alex pulls the chair for you. “I’m not going to say it twice.”

“I’m not your child, Alex.”

“I know you’re not. Because Esme knows when it’s time to eat, and she knows better than to argue with me about it.” Alex points at the chair, while passing Kara a dish. “Well?”

Reluctantly, you sit next to her. Kara serves you food, while Alex fills a glass of water for you. They wait until you have the first bite, so they can start eating too.

Your stomach thanks you, satisfied with real food going in, while your mind angrily shouts at you that tomorrow you’ll have to run farther, eat less, and so on. When you finish everything on your plate, feeling guilty and satiated at the same time, and are about to tell your sisters they have to leave so you can keep working, Alex clears her throat.

“So.” Alex starts, eyeing Kara to stop inhaling her food. “There’s something we want to talk to you about.”

Kara sets her food aside, looking way too serious. That makes your heart beat faster. “We’ve been noticing for a while that you haven’t been eating a lot.”

Oh no.

“Then Lena told me about what happened the last time you saw each other.”

“I felt sick with the sushi she bought. Don’t blame me.”

“We’re not blaming you.” Alex reassures you, immediately touching your arm for comfort. “We really just want to understand what’s going on, baby. We’re just worried.”

“You don’t have to. I’m fine.” They are not buying, and your heart is beating out of your chest, whilst your mind is being filled with blame and accusations. “I’m just working a lot and traveling so much.”

“Baby, your face is pale and bony. And just by looking at you I’m sure you are malnourished.” Alex gives you her best mother voice, and you think of all the times she’s done that before. “Don’t tell us there’s nothing wrong. We’re way past that. We want to understand what is happening with you, so we can help.”

Your first reaction is to fight it. To tell them there’s absolutely nothing wrong, that you don’t need help and that they must leave so you can go back to work. But it all comes crumbling down when Kara wraps you up in her arms, picking you up from where you are, and moving to the couch with you.

You feel like a child. Not only because of the way she’s holding you, or how they’re talking to you, but because you look so small when wrapped around Kara’s arms. You feel skeletal, your mind is sick and angry at your own existence, and sure, you are definitely malnourished.  

So when Kara kisses the top of your head, and Alex sits on your coffee table with a worried face and a hand on your knee for encouragement, tears stream down your face uncontrollably.

“I don’t know what’s going on, I just-” You cry and cry. They wait patiently for your time, for your truth. “I just hate myself. And sometimes I hate everyone around me, and work and life. And God, this is the only thing I can control. It’s the only thing in my life I can control, so I need it.”

“Hey.” Kara kisses your temple. “You don’t need it. You don’t. We love you so much, baby.”

“But why?” You beg. “I’m not-”

“Yes, you are.” Alex stops you before you go on with harming words about yourself. “You are amazing. You’re smart, and sweet, and beautiful, and funny, and so important to us. You are everything you see on everyone else but yourself, ok?”

“Alex.” You cry her name out of your lips and she gets it. Your older sister completely gets you.

“I’m here.” She holds both of your wrists, squeezing it gently. “I’m with you. We’re with you forever and we’re going to get over this together, ok?”

“I don’t even know what to do, where to start, I-”

“To be honest, baby, neither do we.” Kara holds you tighter. “But here’s one thing we know. We’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“We’ll learn how to deal with it together.” Alex calms you. “One step at a time, ok?” She cleans your tears with her hands. “You’ll have everything you need. Medical help, our help, friends’ support. We’ll give you everything so you can overcome this, baby.”

Alex gets up from the coffee table and sits next to Kara. Soon you are enveloped between both of your sisters’ loving arms, while they restate that there’s nothing wrong with you, and that they love you very much.

You love them too, even if sometimes along the way to recovery you find yourself hating what they’re doing, you make sure to remember that you need them and love them so dearly much, and that they are the best sisters in the universe.

It’s a hard, long road full of bumps, cracks, and obstacles, but with their help it gets you where you need to be and you start feeling like yourself again.

[lifeisstrange-incorrectquotes]

Alex: Alright, so I'm acting fishy. So sushi!

Alex: I mean "sue me."

Riley: Don't act like that was an accident.

[abandoned-mines-and-loss]

UM HELLO? WHATT IS THIS FIC SPECIFICALLY/J(OKE)

my sanders sides theory is that since Roman said Virgil is "nothing compared to the others (Janus and Remus)" means that Virgil was the weakest of the dark sides so they kicked him out for being a little bitch

[separatist-apologist]

Have you read crescent city? Did you like it?

I need a masterlist of all MB's SJM opinions. Every 500 followers or so I'm reanswering the same questions. It's a labor of love, though because at heart, I am a HUGE hater. Oh you thought I was nice? LOL.

Anyway I have read CC 1 & 2, and I guess I'll be reading 3, though it was my intention to DNF the series halfway through 2. I only finished 2 when the leaks of the ending were posted.

Did I like CC? No. I LOATHE CC. I think it's boring, first of all, and I'm tired of everyone saying this is her best work. It's maybe her most self-aware work, but I don't think it's her best. And like, good for her, loving this series and finding joy in writing but I hate it and I wish she'd finish ACOTAR before starting new books. Whatever.

My issues with CC are some of the usual- men obsessed with the love interest to singular obsession, the hiding of major plot points for no discernible reason which makes it read like sloppy writing. If you're IN a protag's head, and they have solved a major plot point mystery, forcing them to pretend they haven't for the sake of reader and then revealing oh yeah I knew...is bad writing and I'm tired of pretending its not.

The whole Danika thing has 0 emotional weight and when people were crying at the end of CC1 I had to ask myself if I was joyless. Like...Danika is a shitty friend, first of all, but secondly we spent 8 seconds with her. Is that enough time to bond? Not for me. Whatever.

CC drags ON AND ON, there is no reason for either book to be half as long as they are.

And finally, I HATE Bryce. I HATE her. I would rather re-read TOG and fall in love with Rowan than ever reread CC. I dread CC3- I think I might just skim it for Rhysand. Bryce learns 0 lessons, is not capable of change, endlessly sides with the oppressors in the human/angel war and has to be DRAGGED into it, despite having a human mother she swears up and down she loves and a mate who was enslaved during a rebellion, and was only very recently freed.

I cant stand how sexualized Bryce is- Ithan was my 13th reason in that book. Bryce reads like a Mary Sue- the prettiest, smartest, most powerful girl on the planet like great okay. Book 2 was practically Danika's book, who, upon examining her actions, thought very little of her supposed best friend. If I had government secrets I couldn't tell anyone, I would always tell my best friend. We were at sushi the other night whispering about a NDA lawsuit she's forbidden from speaking about, like Danika didn't even tell Bryce about her soul mate. Oof. Can't blame her though, Bryce is awful. The whole self-sacrificing of Lehebah for Bryce, who spends a whole book being mean and cruel to her...why?

Anyway this is a rambling mess. If you like CC, please know I'm not making any judgments. I know a lot of people really enjoy them, and that's perfectly fine. They are not for me.

[ereawrites]

Dick Grayson x Reader - Mania

this was requested by: anon

word count: 10.5k / rating explicit

a/n: sex pollen so auto dubcon (?), but both reader and dick are affected so idk

taglist: @daddyissuesmademe @idkmanicantenglish

It's your fault, really. You should never have got involved in the first place, but the temptation was just too great to resist. How could you pass up the opportunity to investigate Poison Ivy's pollen? This was the first decent sample any of you had ever managed to get - even Bruce, though you suspect there have been a few times he's managed to get up close and personal with the pollen - and normally Tim would handle it, but he's away on business with Bruce, and Damian's too young to deal with intensive research, and Jason just can't bring himself to care. So, that left Dick, and you could've left it at that. You should have. Then again, Tim did text you to recommend that you helped Dick: actually, you would never have left your room if it hadn't been for his intervention. It's Tim's fault.

The thing is, everything was fine at first; you've, perhaps, been harbouring the slightest crush on Dick for a while now, and it's always nice to spend time with him. He's fun to be around, even if his classic charm sometimes borders on teasing flirtation, and he's got such an incredible mind. You forget that, at times - he has a bad habit of putting himself down as the 'kind one' of the family, the emotional support or the comic relief, and he forgets to let himself be brilliant, too. He doesn't realise you've noticed that. Or maybe he does, but he doesn't say anything, and you've happily spent the past two hours studying Ivy's pollen together.

"It's definitely pheromonal, but I've never seen a chemical composition like this before-", you say, eyes glued to the computer screen. Dick is leaning over the back of your chair, one hand on your shoulder and one hand on the desk beside you, and you shouldn't feel as tense as you do. "-look, this section doesn't occur naturally in any species we've seen. She's synthesising these pheromones somehow, it's not like she's injecting them, but I just - I don't get how."

He pushes off from the desk, grabs the back of your chair, and spins you to face him with a half-smile. "I hate to break your train of thought, but I think we need a biochem specialist.", he says, and you suddenly notice how tired he looks: his eyes are still vibrant, warm, but exhausted. "We've done as much as we can on this, right? No shame in calling in the big guns."

"Tim?", you reply, knowingly, relishing in the way Dick's smile grows into a full grin. He's still gripping the edges of your chair, effectively caging you in: you are not looking at his arms, and you can be certain of this because you are looking very, very intently at his face.

"Having a genius brother has its perks, I know. I'll call him now. It's late in Tokyo - he won't be in a meeting, he'll probably just be awake in his hotel room, tapping away at his laptop.", Dick says, finally moving away to fetch his phone, and his voice trails off into a mumble that he clearly doesn't mean for you to hear. "God, he worries me. He really does."

It's much too warm in here: you sigh, and shrug off your jacket, slinging it over the back of the computer chair before calling out,"You're such a mother hen sometimes, Dick."

"I care. Sue me.", he replies with a faux scowl. "You don't complain when you're ill and I bring you hot soup."

"You're a good cook, what can I say?"

"Husband material!", he chirps. You feel your stomach leap and your cheeks heat up at his words. He's only teasing, but the truth of it is, it has more effect on you than you would like to admit. Thankfully, he's quickly distracted by the crackle of Tim picking up the phone. "Timmy! How's things?"

Tim's voice is dry, as always, but with a noticeable undercurrent of frustration. "Shit. I hate it here."

"Hey, Tim. Bad day?", you say with sympathy. You feel a little bad for bothering him, now; as hard as everyone in the family works, Tim definitely pushes himself the hardest.

"I'm the youngest person here by at least twenty years, and my stomach can't handle sushi. Plus, Bruce gets separation anxiety from the rest of you. The one upside is that I've been able to practice my Japanese.", Tim replies. You feel bad for him, of course, but the image of him having to comfort a homesick Bruce has you suppressing a snicker.

Dick shoots an amused smile at you - he's too beautiful when he smiles, it isn't fair - that starkly contrasts the comforting tone he uses to respond to Tim. "Don't worry, darling brother - I've got something exciting for you! Check your emails - wait, only the most recent one, though, I sent you a link to a Red Hood fanpage-"

You interject with an accusatory wave of your finger. "Why the fuck didn't you send me that? Red Hood is sexy." If Jason were here, he would probably threaten to shoot you, but as it is, Dick's amusement only grows. His smile is so infectious, like it spirals out into the air and right into your chest, and you can't help but smile back at him. You don't know if it's the warmth of the room or simply from Dick himself, but you feel as though you're going to need to step outside for some fresh air soon.

"Because of your raging crush on Nightwing, probably." Tim cuts in, and you could fucking kill him. Dick gives you a pleased wink. "I'm looking at a pheromonal compound, right? Ivy's special formula?"

You muster as much venom into your voice as you can, without pissing Tim off so much that he leaves you to deal with this on your own. "Fuck you, Tim - and yeah. It's a newer version, though - I think she's evolving, if that makes sense? Her physiology is definitely changing." Tim gives a thoughtful hum in response to your words: you imagine it's in agreement.

Dick continues your train of thought. "We think she's working with someone else, or she's been experimenting on herself, maybe. Do you have any ideas about how she's making the new chemicals?"

"I'll need a few hours. Send me all the data over. You're right about it evolving, though - it's definitely airborne. Shit, this is actually really interesting - the molecules are more compact, smaller, so she doesn't need to rely on physical touch through her plants anymore-"

The rest of Tim's words are lost to a wave of horror. Airborne, he said - you'd doubt it if it wasn't for the similar shock that's written over Dick's face - and you have not been treating this sample as airborne. Ivy has always relied on physical, tangible contact to use her chemicals: you couldn't have known, there was no way you could've known, neither of you are experts on this kind of thing - you've fucked up.

"Airborne? How... airborne are we talking? Like, don't-sniff-the-test-tube?", Dick asks, cautiously, maintaining eye contact with you all the while. *Please, God, let it be don't-sniff-the-test-tube and nothing more than that. Please.*

"Shit, you haven't been wearing respirators - have you?". Tim sounds positively horrified. It does nothing to allay your fears, the worries that you've both been infected with Ivy's pollen; in fact, he all but confirms it. Everything is beginning to fall into place now. The tension around Dick - more so than usual, at least -, how warm you're feeling, the mental sluggishness that had you calling Tim in the first place.

You're angry at yourself, for your own stupidity - not Tim, but you're panicked, you're so unbelievably freaked out, and so you can't help but snap at the phone. "How were we meant to know, man? Ivy's never even hinted at having something of this level before!"

"You're working with chemicals, unknown chemicals, I hate-"

Dick cuts in before this can turn into a full-on confrontation. You've got no idea how he's managing to keep a level head. Perhaps the pheromones are already taking a more severe effect, or maybe it's a placebo effect, and you pray that it is, but you can already feel your heart beginning to pound against the confines of your chest. "It's just pheromones, right? We know it's not toxic, at least - Ivy's victims only take a few days to come around, at most. They're just kinda fucked up for a few days."

You admire Dick so, so much. He's right, he's always right, he always manages to keep you calm and make you feel safe: you'll just have to stay with him, and you'll be okay. If you stay here, he can comfort you, and maybe the impacts of the pollen won't even be that bad. And, if they are, well, there's no one else in the manor tonight, and Dick's so handsome and kind and strong, and maybe he'll - fuck.

Tim snickers. "Fucked, indeed. Only when Ivy's in a good mood, though. You guys better get ready for a tough night. I've heard it can get really bad, especially if you're deprived of - oh, fuck, I can't talk about this, this is too funny but it's so weird, oh my god-", and he dissolves into a fit of awkward, stunted laughter. Dick fixes you with an apologetic look, but you swear his golden cheeks are tinged with red.

"How long until it kicks in?", he asks. It's a stupid, stupid question, because you feel like you're close to dying already. You know what he means, though: when will it get bad? You've seen Ivy's victims before. They're entirely without dignity, practically begging to be touched, sobbing from the pain of it all - and you've only heard rumours about the depraved things they let Ivy do to them. What they ask her to do to them.

The huff of Tim's breath crackles through the phone. "Uh - I don't know, maybe an hour? A little less, since Bruce never opens the windows in there. Just seal the sample up, drink plenty of water, and try not to freak out. It'll pass. You won't die."

///

You thought you could do it - stay in your room, deal with this alone, avoid any potential awkwardness with Dick -but you can't. It's barely been an hour. Sixty-seven minutes since you left the cave, to be exact. Sixty-seven minutes since Dick grabbed you by the waist to halt your speedy departure, touch light but insistent, and said if you need anything, come to me. His eyes were dark when he said it. Deep, dark blue, an ocean that you could get lost swimming in; but pupils already dilating, breath already speeding up. He meant it as nothing more than a kindness. Still, though, that hasn't been enough to stop you from coming onto your fingers with the image of those eyes burned onto the backs of your eyelids.

Ivy's pollen is designed to induce lust, yes, but only for the first person you see after you're infected with it. This means two things: firstly, that you need Dick more than anything right now. Your head is pounding, your lungs feel like they're on fire - the sensation between your legs isn't aching, it's agony, and you've spent fifty-two of the past sixty-seven minutes trying, and failing, to fool your body into believing that your fingers are his. The first thing you know, is that you need him, because you saw him right after you were infected. The second thing you know - there was no one else in that room. You were the only person Dick could have seen.

So, stupidly, you seek him out. You go back down to the cave, without even taking the time to wash your hands, because that's what your body is telling you to do, and you're acting more and more on instinct. Potential awkwardness be damned. He'll fix this.

Dick's facing away from you, reclined in the computer chair: his posture seems almost relaxed, just almost, legs sprawled out and left elbow visibly sticking out from around the back of the chair, like he's got one hand close to his head. You'd assume he was still looking at the computer, if you weren't so hyperaware of everything right now, but you are, and you notice more. From what you can see of his body - it's low-blue-lit from the computer screen, enough that you can make out the muscle of his legs through his sweatpants if you squint, but it's not enough, you need to see more - he seems tense. Too tense. Normally, you'd sneak closer, but your head is practically spinning now and Dick will help you. He'll make this better. Your voice is hoarse and dry when you manage to call his name.

He immediately jolts in his seat, spinning to face you, and now that he's backlit by the computer, you can barely see more than the outline of his body. God, he looks so lean, so tall - "Are you okay?", he asks, and he sounds almost as bad as you feel. You swallow thickly before responding - and, through the fog in your head, you realise that your jacket is clutched in his left hand.

You, miraculously, manage a weak smile. "I just - I thought maybe it would, you know, be better to... be together, during this. In case - if one of us needs help, or something. I don't know.". You sound stupid. Dumb. You feel it, too, and you can't even bring yourself to care. The mere sight of him is helping: it doesn't remove the pain, or any of the physical sensations, really, but at least the panic of not being near him is being soothed.

"That's - yeah, okay. How are you feeling?", Dick replies. His voice is barely more than a whisper, but you hear it as clear as if he were right up against you. Chest pressed to your back, lips on the curve of your jaw, that voice going right through you and into the pits of your stomach.

It's wrong, to think of him like this, when all he's doing is trying to check that you're alright. He knows you aren't, but he's trying.

The best thing you can think to do is make a weak attempt at a joke. "I've got a newfound fear of Ivy." Dick even huffs out a laugh, but it's just as half-hearted as your words. "I didn't think it was going to be this bad at first, Jesus - but it keeps getting worse, and, it just-"

"-it hurts. I know.". Dick nods. As you take a step closer to him, you realise that your eyes have finally adjusted to the relative darkness of the cave, and you realise that you can see his cock straining against his sweatpants. He's hard. What's more, there's a distinct wet patch leaking through the material.

When you entered the cave, you couldn't see one of his hands; the chair wasn't moving enough for him to be stroking himself, and you're not sure whether you're glad he wasn't, but now that you think of it, there was definite movement. Like he was palming himself through his sweatpants, maybe. And the hand that was close to his head, it's clutching your jacket, he was holding your jacket close to his face while he-

"Dick - were you...?"

He sighs, halfway between embarrassed and resigned, and sinks back down into the computer chair. He keeps your jacket clenched in a white-knuckle grip. "I had to take the edge off somehow, right? I'm sorry, I didn't think you would be coming back down here, I never meant to make you uncomfortable or anything-"

"I'm not uncomfortable.", you blurt out before you know what you're saying. Dick's expression visibly shifts - you don't have the mental clarity to figure out into what, exactly - but you can feel your own eyes widen as you process  the implications of what you just said. "Oh, fuck - I didn't mean it like that, I - sorry."

Dick just shakes his head. He must mean for you not to worry. You stand in silence for a while, not exactly awkward but certainly thick with tension, before he pats a hand onto the desk beside him. "God, this is worse than I thought. Do you wanna come sit down?"

Do you? Although being closer to Dick sounds like the only thing you want in the world right now - god, you can't help but think about how good he would look, if you were close enough to really study him, now that you're beyond giving a fuck about etiquette - you're also acutely aware of how difficult it'll be to control yourself. Undeniably, you want him. You've wanted him for months, really - but the pollen has taken that desire and multiplied it tenfold, made it so that it's all-consuming and painful. In your room, nothing more than imagining him, it was bad enough. Now, now that you can see his fucking cock, now that the image of him rubbing himself with a blissed-out look on his face, it's almost impossible to control.

You move to sit next to him. You can't help yourself. Once you start moving, you feel like it's all in slow-motion: Dick's watching you, dark eyes trained so closely on your form, and you're wearing nothing more than a tight-fitting pair of leggings and a thin t-shirt. After what feels like an age - too long to be apart from him - you reach the desk, and upon clumsily perching yourself on it, you see Dick looking as though he's about to pass out.

"Fuck, did I - did I do something wrong? I'm sorry-", you say hastily, but he instantly shakes his head and trains his eyes on yours. The blue is nearly gone. It's all blown-out pupils now, so much that his eyes are nearly black.

He licks his lips as if to wet them. "-no, no, but - when you were in your room - when you were alone - did you do anything to take the edge off? Did you touch yourself?"

You could say no, if you wanted to. You could lie. He would know, but he wouldn't press it, and you could save yourself the shame. For all that Dick must be struggling just as much as you are, he's exceedingly kind, so much that no amount of fucked-up drugs could change that: he's still your Dick, underneath all of this.

"Yeah.", you admit after a heartbeat, and your stomach lurches when you see his cock twitch through the sweatpants. Still, you're embarrassed, and you feel the need to explain yourself just a little. "It felt like my skin was on fire unless I did. It still feels like that, though - like it just wasn't enough, I guess."

"I can smell it on you.", Dick says lowly. Oh, God. That's hot. That's so, unbelievably hot - especially when you see his cock twitch again - but absolutely mortifying. You're torn between wanting to jump on him, right here and now, and retreating back to your room. You compromise by burying your face in your hands, and letting out a pathetic whine to signal how fucked-up you are right now. Maybe you can calm down, now that you don't feel on the verge of a panic attack from being away from him, if you take a few deep breaths.

Naturally, Dick hardly gives you the chance. You feel his hand come to rest on your knee out of nowhere; it's a gentle touch, but you can feel him trembling, and the touch sends a bolt of electricity through you that's strong enough to make you jolt. "I want to help you. The whole point of these pheromones is to make it so that you need touch - it only hurts because we're not getting that. So, I can-", he says raspily, punctuating the pause with a reassuring squeeze to your lower thigh, "-touch you, just... platonically, if that's what you want. What you need."

His voice drops down an octave with the last sentence - you whine again, involuntarily, but you just about manage to turn the sound into words.

"Dick, you don't have to - we can just push through this, I know it'll be uncomfortable for you - I mean, I know it's not like we haven't hugged and stuff before, but this is different, I don't want you to feel forced because you feel bad for me."

Dick must lean forward, closer to you, because his palm slides further up your thigh. The pain that prickles insistently under your skin is beginning to turn into fiery heat: not unpleasant, but desperate, hot, and you're starting to feel like you're not going to be able to stop if he asks you to touch him. "I don't feel bad for you.", he insists, reaching up with his free hand to peel your hands away from your eyes. He curls his fingers around yours as he continues. "I just want to make you feel better - both of us feel better. See, it's already helping, right? Just relax. This is bad enough as it is."

His thumb starts to trace circles on the inside of your thigh. It's nowhere near high enough to be considered sexual, but the movement has your legs almost trembling. You wonder if he can feel the tension of your muscles. "It's... it doesn't hurt anymore. Thank you.". And, technically, you're not lying: it doesn't hurt, in fact it feels fucking incredible. You spent fifty-two minutes trying to replicate this sensation. He's only touching your thigh, it has no business feeling this good, but each little beat of his thumb has waves of pleasure crashing through you. God, how good would it feel to fuck him like this? You're shaking, and you know it, and it only makes him tug you by the hand to stand up.

Even the loss of his touch on your thigh feels devastating, but Dick's next words are more comfort than you could have imagined possible. "Here. Come sit, if you want.", he says - whispering again, voice so low and so deep, but it's just the effects of the pollen, you tell yourself - and gestures to his thigh. "You can lean back into me, don't worry, it'll be better for your back."

This has to feel as good for him as it does for you. Logically, it has to. You've both breathed in the same pollen, his skin has the same sheen of sweat that you can feel on your own skin, you're both trembling in every part of your body, and he's still rock hard. You can feel yourself leaking, god, enough that it might have dampened your leggings and left a wet spot on the desk. What would Dick do, if he saw that? He's clearly turned on, but maybe he still has the good sense to avoid fucking: maybe his view of you as 'just platonic' is so deeply ingrained, he would never touch you down there to feel how wet he's made you. Or, maybe he wants you like you want him.

"Are - are you sure?", you stammer. You can't stop looking at his lap. His cock, painfully obvious (and he mustn't care, because he blatantly drew your attention to it), and the corded muscle of his thighs, spread out straight to form you a perch.

"Mhmm...", he hums from somewhere deep in his chest, and suddenly you're grateful that he's still holding your hand, because the sound almost makes your knees buckle. He tugs gently. "Only if you want to be close to me, though."

He says that like an afterthought - like he knows exactly what you want, and like he's hungry for your touch and doesn't want to consider the idea that you don't want to give him it. You can't bring yourself to look at him before you move to sit in his lap, because you know he'll see the desire, and for now, you're still pretending that you don't want to push him down in that chair and ride him for hours. He'd like that, you think. He'd like it if you pulled his hair while you did it.

Dick lets go of your hand so he can take your waist in both hands, guiding you down onto his lap and gripping harder when your ass inadvertently brushes over his cock. You don't mean to do it, of course, and you jump like you've been shocked: you shuffle further down his thigh to avoid another mishap, but the movement causes your pussy to just barely drag against the hard muscle - you hardly manage to control your moan, forced to sink your teeth into your lip. Thankfully, Dick doesn't seem to notice, and he helps you lean back so his chest is pressed to your back, before lifting his arms to rest on the armrests. From here, he begins to rub soothing lines up and down your arms, and he tips his cheek down to rest against your shoulder with a relieved sigh.

"Fuck, that... yeah, that feels better.", you practically gasp. Feeling him pressed up against the entire length of your body, as torturous as it is, is the most relief you've gained all evening; his legs are shaking just enough that you can feel it in your core, though, and you're forced to tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder. You'll lose your fucking mind if you don't start to relax, he's right.

With your neck exposed, though, you can feel Dick's hot breath tickling your skin when he speaks. "Good, right? It feels good?". For the first time, you really hear the tension in his voice. So much so that you can't pass it off as your own projections, or a trick of his tone - he's just as desperate as you are, holy shit, he sounds halfway to begging, he sounds like he's dying to know that his touch is making you feel good. Your hips twitch of their own accord.

"Yeah... Dick?", you whisper after a few moments. He nods in response against your shoulder, a slow, dragging movement that feels like honey dripping through your veins from the point of contact. "Are you really warm, too, or like - is that just me? I - I feel like I'm burning up... Do you mind if I..." - you trail off, instead opting to tug cautiously at the hem of your shirt.

He sucks in a deep, rapid breath that you feel press against your back. For a moment, you worry that you've gone too far - it feels so good, but it's too weird, too strange for him even now - but then he slowly curls his fingers around the hem, replacing your own hands, and starts to pull upwards at a torturous pace. His knuckles drag over your lower abdomen for just a second and your hips twitch again, and he definitely felt it this time but he says nothing, and his breathing is warm and fast against the skin of your neck; with the shirt discarded, you're left in nothing more than a thin bra. Although the room feels warm, furnace-hot, you're all too aware of the blatant hardness of your nipples, and you tell yourself it's okay, he won't notice, because you're facing away and he won't - his palm drags against your breast on the way back down and it feels so good, too good, and you can't help but whimper, "Fuck, yes-"

Three things happen in quick succession. Dick freezes, you realise what you've done and move to jump up and run for the hills, and then Dick grabs your hips and pulls you back into him, right over his cock, this time. The friction makes both of you let out a breathy sigh, but where you clap a hand over your mouth, Dick follows it up with a hoarse proposition. "I can touch you properly, if you want. It'll make all this go away, I promise - do you want me to?", he rasps, pressing one, quick kiss to the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. "Do you want me to touch you?"

His grasp on your hips is tight, wanting, but gentle enough that you know he wouldn't stop you if you tried to leave again. When you make no move to do so - you're frozen, you can't believe he's just offered to do what your body is screaming for - Dick pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your ass over his cock and then pushing you back down. He repeats the motion a few times, rolling his own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto him. Dick rewards you with a quiet moan - oh, you want him to do that again, you're going to make him do that again, louder and louder - and then, with a touch so light you could cry, he traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.

One finger traces your slit through your leggings, and you hear yourself moan, but you're hardly aware of making the noise - just this simple touch feels almost as good as the orgasm you had earlier, even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once. This is what you needed, more than anything, for Dick to touch you and drag you down onto his cock, and you're so overwhelmed that every muscle in your body goes lax, leaving you to collapse into his chest.

Dick rubs gently at your pussy a few more times, like he's exploring you, and then suddenly he taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and he sighs against your neck. "God, I can feel how wet you are already. You should have told me, I would've done something sooner, you know that - fuck, you're so wet, let me - let me finger you, huh? Please?"

"Yeah - please, Dick.", you whine, and when you say his name, he moans and shoves his cock up against you again. He mumbles something into your skin that you don't quite make out, and then his hand is fumbling with your waistband, clumsily slipping into your underwear and then he's there, his fingers are brushing right against your clit, you sob out a broken cry - you're so wet that his fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time he reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.

Your pussy instantly clenches down, hard, and you feel more full than you thought could be possible. Dick moans into the skin of your neck and gives you a moment to calm down, to soothe the desperate jolting of your hips, before he starts to pump his fingers; slowly, at first, but soon picking up into a faster and more urgent pace. With each movement, he scissors his fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and he starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? Is this what you need?"

You fling an arm behind you to grasp at his hair, and when you tug after a particularly delicious curl of his fingers, he bites down hard onto your shoulder. "Fuck, yes, yes - please don't stop, please, Dick, don't stop-"

"I'm not going to stop, don't worry, I've got you - I'm here, I'm not gonna stop, you sound too pretty for me to stop, fuck - I knew you would sound pretty, keep making those noises for me."

Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that he's given up on pumping his fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach - "I think I'm close, Dick, - oh, oh, oh my god, I don't - it's never felt like this before, I don't - fuck-"

"I know, I know, baby-", he croons, and the pet name has you tugging at his hair again, the other hand white-knuckled on the armrest, "-it's okay, it's gonna feel different - it's gonna feel better, I promise, it's going to be so good, I'm going to get you there, baby, come on."

"Fuck - fucking - Jesus, Dick, keep going, just like that-!", you all but shout, and Dick continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of his hand means the heel of his palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into his hand - god, you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you, you feel the contractions start a few seconds before it actually hits you and it's going to be earth-shattering, you know it, every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Dick whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming-

Distantly, you can feel his fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting - and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto his lap - but other than that, all you know is the white-flash across your vision and the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once: this is better than anything you've ever felt, better than every orgasm put together, and it feels feels for a moment like you're actually going to black out from the sheer intensity of the pleasure.

Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Dick is heaving for breath against your shoulder, but it's nothing compared to the way your own lungs are screaming for air - god, you think you were screaming, given the scratching sensation in your throat - and his fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. It hurts, a little, but this one orgasm has done nothing to sate your desperate hunger: in fact, it's only made it worse, only increased your desire for him, and you swear his cock is impossibly harder against your ass now.

"You - you're dripping onto my hand, baby, oh my god...", Dick pants, and there's a heartbeat where neither of you move - then, you feel his breath hitch, and suddenly his other hand is shoving unceremoniously under your waistband and going straight for your clit. He picks up the pace with the two fingers still inside you, matching each curl with a flick over your clit, and the motions are all so frenzied, those of a man possessed with some ravenous desire, like his one purpose is to have you writhing in his lap, and you give a wordless cry - too overcome with blinding pleasure to actually make a sound - that allows you to hear his ragged words. "Please, give me another one, one more - I want to make you squirt this time, it's going to be so good, I promise, just give me one more, pretty girl-"

This time, it's not just one wave of pleasure, spreading from your core and emanating outwards; no, it's wave after wave after wave, violently crashing over you and completely overcoming every part of your body, unrelenting and constant - this one lasts at least twice as long as the last, but you're hardly in the right state of mind to keep track of time, and every wave of pleasure that rushes through you is tenfold stronger than the last. You hear yourself shriek his name in the most pathetic, broken tone, and Dick cages you in against his body as best as he can as he keeps both hands working at your pussy, and you realise you're sobbing when he finally, finally stops.

When his fingers slip out of your pussy and exit your leggings, they're dripping wet. Dick audibly gasps, and then he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes you can see the most fucked-out look on his face just at the taste of your cum. He licks his fingers clean - you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight - before opening his eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "You taste so fucking good - baby, I'm not going to be able to stop, I'm sorry, I need this, I need to fuck you - please."

He's asking permission, you realise. Neither of you are in control of what you're doing anymore, and he's still asking, as best as he can, if he's allowed to fuck you. There's a terrified look in his eyes, behind the frenzy and the lust - you clumsily crash your lips against his. He tastes of your juices, but it's one of the hottest things you've ever experienced, and he moans openly into your mouth, eagerly meeting your tongue with his own. You're exhausted, but kissing him renews your energy tenfold. You're suddenly overcome with the urge to feel his cock - inside you, yes, but you want to see it first, you want to make him cry out and moan and gasp for you - so you manoeuvre in his lap, keeping your mouth against his, to straddle his narrow hips and face him.

"Ah - ah, god, that feels amazing.", Dick moans, broken up between sloppy kisses, saliva starting to drip down both of your chins - but it's hot, so hot - as you frantically reach down to palm at him. The instant you finally touch his cock, you're gone: there's no stopping now that you can feel how achingly hard he is, now that you feel how he twitches under your hand each time you kiss him, and it takes much longer than you would like to undo the drawstring of his sweatpants, pull them down, and wrap your hand around the exposed length of him. He hisses as his whole body jerks.

Instantly, you set a frenzied pace of stroking him, relishing in each ragged moan that you rip from his throat; he's leaking into your palm, you realise, dripping over your fingers as you pull him back by the hair and attach your lips to his neck. When you suck a bruise into the softest part of his skin - the salty-sweat-tangy hollow beneath his Adam's apple - he shouts out your name, loud, followed by, "-fuck, fu- let me fuck you, baby, please, I - I'm close, you have to stop-"

"Come on my hand, Dickie.", you plead, and you're granted a thick spurt of precum when you lick a stripe up the column of his throat: he tastes so good, his skin so hot under your mouth, you can't stop, and you croon right into his ear, "It's - it's gonna last for hours, still, you're still gonna be hard - I'm still so needy for you, Dickie, look - come on my hand, let me see it, please. You can fuck me after, just come for me where I can watch it, oh - oh, please." His moans start to pick up in volume and frequency, coming from a place deeper in his throat. He's close, you know.

You've started to grind onto his thigh somewhere along the way. It feels amazing, it feels even better because you know he's twitching and aching for you just inches away - once you finally drag yourself out of the crook of his neck, you see that you've left a damp streak on his sweatpants in the wake of your hips, and the steady stream of precum leaking from his cock has soaked the material higher up. "Come on, Dickie, come on, let me see you come, I wanna see it, I - I'll, fuck, I'll lick it clean after, Jesus-", you blurt out, too far gone to be horrified at the ease with which the words spill from your lips.

"Oh, baby, shit-” he cries, and then his voice dissolves into a broken jumble of incoherent mumbles and whines. His cock twitches hard in your palm, once, twice, three times against the rapid pace you maintain on him, and then Dick bucks his hips up into your hand, back arched, perfectly still and tense; he comes hard, almost whimpering, head thrown back and eyes tightly shut, looking so, so perfect as you stroke him through it and grind feverishly onto his thigh. It's the image of his cock that has the breath snatched from your chest, though. Several thick ropes of cum spurt from him as you work him through it, some hitting the skin of your abdomen and some dripping down the length, and it just keeps going, no sign of stopping until Dick completely collapses, after almost a minute of moaning and coming - your hand is drenched with him.

The sight of his cum dripping from your palm makes something in your stomach clench hard, painfully, and suddenly you need to taste him, you have to, it hurts so much and it'll go away as soon as you get your mouth on him. You scramble off the chair, almost falling to your knees in front of him - he rushes to steady you, even with weak and shaky arms - but you don't care about how graceful you look right now. As soon as you manage to nestle yourself between thighs, you lick flat up the underside of his cock. The taste of it makes your eyes roll back in your head. Dick spits, "Holy shit!", and it trails off into a deep gasp as you wrap your lips around him and sink down as far as you can go. You'd take your time, usually, but everything in your body is screaming for you to taste him, let him fill you, and you're in no position for argument.

With each dip of your head - punctuated with a moan from the man above you, each one becoming closer to a growl, animalistic, and you think the pollen is beginning to send your bodies into total overdrive now - you take him as deeply as you can. You're nearly gagging, but that's what you need. His hands tangle into your hair; at first, you can tell he's trying to be as gentle as he can, but that's soon overcome with a tight, guiding grip that pushes you further down onto his cock with each bob of your mouth. The burning heat under your skin is killing you now, too much to ignore, so you manage to shuffle out of your leggings and underwear and kick them away: Dick groans roughly, maybe because he can smell you more clearly now-

"Come here, pretty girl-", Dick says, sliding his hands from your hair to lift you up by the jaw. You mean to whine, perhaps beg him to let you back down, because he feels so good in your mouth - then you see the look on his face. He looks totally gone. Nothing like the Dick you know, warm and gentle and relaxed: his eyes are completely clouded over, lips parted and slick with saliva, brow furrowed with something between pain and carnal desire. You imagine you look much the same, with spit dripping from your chin, the heat you can feel burning your cheeks, and the wetness you feel running down the insides of your thighs. He meets your eyes, and there's a moment of stillness. One thumb slips from your cheek to trace over your lower lip.

Then, both of you move at once - you surge forward to kiss him again, those perfect, pink lips - you fumble with the hem of his shirt, ripping it up and over his head while barely leaving his mouth for a second - Dick's hands slide down your body to your waist. He pulls you into him as he leans forward, half-supporting your weight, and suddenly your back is against the floor and he's on top of you, kissing you hard and bruising, the chair long since kicked away and forgotten about. Every inch of freshly exposed skin feels like molten silk under your touch: you slide greedy hands over his torso as he licks into your mouth, feeling the network of ridged scars and each ridge of muscle. Thankfully, Dick grants you a few precious, savoured moments to feel his skin, while he alternates between rolling his hips against your bare pussy and kicking off his sweatpants.

It's all ungraceful and clumsy - wet kisses stolen between your movements, each of you moaning against the other's lips - and it takes much, much too long for both of you to finally shed yourself of all your clothes. Dick's hands grab greedily at your breasts as he ruts his hips against you a few times, and you can feel how your wetness spreads over his cock. Then, his hands fly down to find your knees, and he drags them to fit around his waist, pulling up until your hips are fully tilted, the stretch of your muscles verging on uncomfortable. "Oh, fuck, that's it, baby. Keep your legs there for me, won't you? Come on, wrap your legs around me - I want to get as deep as I can, it's gonna feel amazing, I promise.", Dick says, bordering on a growl now that his voice is so deep and strained, and you do as he says immediately. You need him inside of you, now; you hook your ankles behind his back, kiss him, and desperately grind your hips into his.

And then, with one deep roll of his hips, he's inside of you. One quick thrust and he's buried to the hilt, and, God, he fits inside you so perfectly: your body all but melts at the feeling of finally being filled, and you keen as you instinctively use your ankles to press his hips further into you. Dick's just large enough to stretch you out, even with how wet and ready you are, without becoming painful, and the pollen means it only takes you a short moment to adjust to his size before your body is pleading to be fucked. He's shaking and panting with restraint above you whimper, "Ho-holy fuck, Dickie, please... please move, oh my god."

"I know, baby, I know.", he says, breathlessly, voice tight with pleasure but still sympathetic. Even with him motionless inside you, it already feels so good, better than anyone you've ever fucked, and you can hardly stop yourself from grabbing him by the shoulders, pushing him down, and riding him. "It just feels so good, you feel so good - I don't want to rush it, I want to make it last. Jesus, my body feels like it's on fire while I'm touching you, I - oh, fuck, I want to take it slow, make you feel so good you cry-"

"-We have all night to be slow, Dick, you can do whatever you want to me, just fuck me-"

Dick's hips roll into yours and a drawled curse falls from his parted lips. He pulls out, almost completely, enough that you panic and squeeze him tighter with your thighs, but then he pushes back into you, slowly, letting you savour the way each nerve ending inside your pussy is set ablaze; he repeats the motion, faster, his curses morphing into sweet mumbles of your name each time he bottoms out. You can hardly breathe - it feels so good, and each thrust of his hips is met with a pollen-driven roll of your own, so it's half-grinding, half-fucking - the slight curve of his cock has him dragging deliciously against your g-spot every time. His movements are picking up in intensity now, and you can tell the pollen is taking him over completely. The same is happening to you: fuck it, you don't want to think about the pollen anymore, you just want him.

"Ah, yes! Yes, right there-right- keep going-", you cry out after a particularly hard slam of his hips. Dick is propped up on one elbow, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and the other hand slips down to grab at your ass and pull you up into him. He's deep enough that it hurts, but it's the best pain you've ever experienced. "Fuck, faster, please!"

He obeys, mercifully, and you think you can see sweat starting to bead on his temples. "Is this what you need, pretty girl? Come on, tell me what you want - tell me I'm making you feel good, because you're making me feel so fucking good, I swear, better than I ever even imagined - fuck, you're so wet, are you going to come again? Please, please let me make you come on my cock."

The combination of his cock inside you, and his pelvis bumping against your clit, and the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body: it's all too much to bear, your body is going into total overdrive, and it's so embarrassing that he's got you like this. You never normally beg, you never normally come so fast, but this is different and addictive and incredible - you cry out an affirmation to his words, and suddenly his hand is gripping your chin. He's fully collapsed onto you now, and his movements are more frantic rutting than anything else.

"Look at me-", he pleads, using his hand to guide your face so you're staring right into those glassy eyes. "-look at me while you come, and it'll make me come."

You can feel your muscles beginning to tense up as your orgasm starts to grow. Already, your world is spinning, and you feel halfway to blacking out from the sheer intensity, so you tangle your hands into his hair as a way to ground yourself. "Please come inside me!", you whine - the idea of being filled with his cum, letting it drip out while he fucks another load into you, it's fucking mind-blowing and you can't imagine anything better than feeling him shoot into you while you come on his cock.

Dick's jaw clenches tightly. "Are - are you sure, baby? Is that what you want?"

The next thrust hits you perfectly, and you can't help but pull him tighter into you, so his head drops to the crook of your neck. "I need it, Dickie, you know - you know that - you need me too, right? Fuck, fuck - it's gonna feel so good, I'm so close-". He spends a few moments sucking a bruise into the most tender skin of your neck before moving to press his forehead to yours. Each rough movement of his hips has you jostling against the floor; your nipples are dragging against his chest every time, making you keen, and your swollen clit is being hit so perfectly by his hips, and he's making the most perfect and breathy noises against you - he looks so fucked-out, so gone, so completely absorbed in the feeling of his cock inside you, and your vision is starting to blur at the edges as the spark in your stomach finally bursts into flames-

"That's it, baby, come for me just like that.", Dick gasps, just as your orgasm rips through you. You've got no choice but to clutch at him desperately and ride out each devastating wave as a scream tears itself from your lungs: it feels like your body is tearing itself apart with each ripple of pleasure emanating from your core. Like your body is folding in on itself like a black hole does, when everything becomes too much to bear. You actually feel like you've died, you must have, this is too good and too much and too overwhelming - you hang on to Dick through it all, and your pussy clenches down so hard he can barely move inside you, and he chokes out your name before his own orgasm hits him.

You've come down just enough to process the way he looks and sounds as he comes. Your eyes are still hazy - you kept them on him, you must have - but you nearly come again at the mere sight of him. He's too far gone to even make sounds, and instead he stutters out broken breaths through wet lips, cheeks flushed and eyebrows furrowed hard, and his eyes stay fixed on you the whole time. Even as the rest of his body spasms and rocks into you uncontrollably, even as the hand on your chin slips down to your neck and squeezes, he keeps staring at you with all the lust in the world. The best part of it all, though, is how you feel his cum spilling out into you; even more than he shot onto your hand, somehow, and you realise you're crying from how relieved your body is. Fully, fully, crying, and Dick kisses away your tears as he collapses against you.

Despite how both of you are wincing at the overstimulation, neither of you ever stop moving through it all, and you keep grinding gingerly, carefully but sloppily, against each other even while you gasp for breath against each others' lips. It can't be more than ten seconds from when you come down, before you can't control the urge to whisper, "Give me another one, Dick, please. Keep fucking me." It hurts - it hurts because he's not fucking you, he's not moving enough - you need more.

Dick keeps rolling his hips against yours in shallow movements for a few seconds. His mouth is occupied with sucking more bruises into your neck, up your throat and across your jaw: he's mumbling something incoherent, slurring his words. Each fresh bruise has you gasping his name. You're going to be covered in marks after this - not just your neck, his grip on your ass and hips has been tight enough to leave bruises there, too - and you're entirely certain you've left scratch marks down his back. You nearly come again just at the thought of that; Dick, walking around for days with your marks left on him. Scratch marks under his dress shirts when he's on business, or under the tight material of his Nightwing suit, or blatantly visible through the obscenely sheer shirts he wears out clubbing. He's going to be marked as yours.

"You look so pretty like this, holy shit-", he says, pulling his head from your neck to admire his work. "You're so gorgeous - you always are, you always fucking are - but you look even better when you're mine, fuck-"

“-make me yours, then, please-"

You gasp in shock and disappointment as Dick suddenly pulls out, and his own face crumples at the loss of touch, but his palms are firm and insistent on your waist - he kisses you once, firmly, before he's manoeuvring your body like putty in his hands. You're flipped onto your stomach with another whisper of how pretty you are, and then Dick runs calloused palms down the soaked flesh of your thighs, up over your ass, over the curve of your spine and all the way up to gently, gently, press your cheek flat against the floor. He follows his hand with hot tongue, and when he reaches your ear, he murmurs, "You taste so good, pretty girl. Stay there for me. It's okay, let go. I've got you."

Uncontrollably, your ass jerks up and backwards against where his cock is pressing into you. He chuckles. He fucking laughs with his lips pressed to your cheek - maybe having came inside you has cleared his head enough that he can think straight enough to find your desperation funny - and one of his hands slides back down your body, spreading your pussy open for him to look at. You sense his body tense as he gazes at you. "...My cum is dripping out of you, oh my god."

Fuck it back into me, you think, but you're too far gone to string together a coherent sentence anymore. Your body can do the talking. You keep your cheek pressed to the floor, maybe because your muscles are too exhausted to lift your head, or maybe because it was so fucking hot how Dick pressed your head down, but you manage to meet his eyes. You plead with him as well as you can.

Dick's piercing blue eyes roll right back into his skull when he pushes into you again. From this angle, he feels even deeper than before: with one of his hands running lines up your spine, and his lips wet against the backs of your shoulders, and the steady, strong pace he sets fucking you, you're brought to the verge of tears again within minutes. You can hardly move your body to work with him in this position: he uses the weight of his body to press you into the floor, and each thrust of his hips has you moaning loud against the floor.

He brings a string of kisses and nips up your nape, so he can kiss your cheek again. It's sweet, a gentle gesture, only amplifying the pleasure that each deep snap of his hips brings. "I - I'm not hurting you, am I? I know it must be sensitive, baby, I understand if it's too much, I know - you can tell me if it's too much-"

"-no, please-", you whimper, terrified he's going to stop, "-it's so good, please, Dickie, you're exactly what I need-", and then your voice cuts out into a broken sob as one of his hand snakes between your body and the floor to find your clit. The rough pad of his finger brushes over it a few times, eliciting whimpers from you, before he settles for simply resting his finger on your clit. With each thrust, your hips are jostled against his finger just enough to send sparks of electricity shooting through your veins - every time, it feels like flames licking through each limb, and he's fucking into you so perfectly, claiming you with teeth at your neck, rasping your name against your skin - there's wetness against your cheek, like you're drooling, and you're almost certain you can feel the wetness of your pussy dripping onto his hand.

You're so swollen with desire, you can feel how tightly you're clenching down onto his cock. The mind-blowing pressure Dick's applying to your clit is only making it stronger. "You feel so good, baby. So, so, fucking good - holy shit, you're taking me so well." Then, there's a savage thrust of his hips, one that has both of you crying out in surprise and pleasure: he freezes buried to the hilt inside you. "You're going to make me come again soon, sweetie."

That means more of his cum inside you, more of his delicious moans and groans as he comes, and you say, "God, please-"

"-not yet, I want to make you come for me again. You feel so tight and hot when you do - I need it again, I want nothing more than that, please - you think you can give me another one, huh? One more for me?"

"I - I - yeah.", you stammer. You can, you know you can - your body is practically vibrating from how hard you're trembling on the edge of another orgasm - but you don't know when it's going to stop, you don't know it ever will - maybe this will go on all night, maybe he'll fuck you for hours on end and make you cry and let you lick your mess of his cock. But maybe it won't. Maybe your body will give out, or the pollen will leave his system: this will end and nothing will ever compare. You don't want to come again if it means the end of this pleasure. "...Promise you'll keep going after, Dickie."

Dick starts rubbing rapid circles on your clit with his ring and index finger, and kisses your hairline to soothe you as you sob again. "I'm only going to stop if you ask me to, baby, I promise. You feel too good to stop, I swear - I never thought you would be so fucking perfect, but now I know, I can't stop - I'm right here, I've got you, I'm going to make you come so many times you forget your name if that's what you want."

God, you're going to come again, holy shit-

He hardly gives you the chance to come back around before he's crooning, "-one more, one more for me, right on my cock like that-"

You can't even breathe. Your lungs are on fire, your vision is completely blacked out even once the second orgasm ends, your muscles and bones have turned into mush and you can't feel anything other than the sensation of flying. You're weightless, Dick is the only thing grounding you - he coaxes you down from the aftershocks with soft kisses to your cheek, and his hand tracing circles onto your aching hip, and the muscles of his abdomen are flexing with restraint against your back. "I'm gonna come, baby-", he hisses, and you manage the barest nod and then he sinks his teeth right into your shoulder as he starts pounding into you like a whore, fuck, it's sending you spiralling out of control again-

"Fuck, yes, take my cum like that, that's it, keep coming for me, holy shit-"

You're both boneless and drenched in sweat by the end of it. You're collapsed against the floor, Dick's collapsed against you, and he's still hard inside of you. You can feel his cum - it must have spilled out onto the insides of your thighs, judging by the wetness you feel there. His cock twitches inside of you with every ragged breath he takes. You're so exhausted; this is destroying your body, it's ripping you apart from the inside out, and you're terrified that if you come again it'll split you into pieces. And you want that. You twist your body, wincing against the waves of pleasure that crash over you at even the slightest movement of his cock inside you, and kiss him.