| (n.) the heart-wrenching pain of wanting the affection of someone unattainable. My inbox is always open, so don't be afraid to send me a message! pronouns are she/her, 25yo
waiting for summer so you can take CLARK KENT out to the lake and coax him into fucking you in the water when nobody’s around. you almost get caught when some people happen to be trekking these parts but clark shields your faces behind one of the rocks. you never knew he had it in him, but he slowly slides in and out of you even while the voices of strangers are descending out of ear shot. a long, thick rod pushes into your watery guts while his hand next to your head stabilizes the two of you against the boulder. holds your eye contact like a champ, having a silent conversation about his scandalous actions. never would’ve expected this from a boy scout who grew up on a farm, but what do you know?
i am thinking thoughts after seeing those gifs… partygirl/brat reader watching sonny play basketball, she is hot and bothered watching him because he is so fucking hot, he loses, she teases him for losing, he teases her straight back in another way x
(sorry anon this took a while but work and stuff...also i finished this when i myself was a hungover mess so lmaooo anyway i hope you like)
disclaimer: the usual, not proof-read, explicit, 18+, etc etc gif by @ccarisi thx!
Playing Hardball
Are you home?
Nope. Still at Alice’s. Gonna leave in a bit though. Where are you?
Tompkins. Shooting hoops with Joe. Lemme know when you get home. I’ll come and bring lunch.
Nah, it’s okay. I bet you’re all stinky. I’ll have some cup noodles.
Awww. Don’t be like that.
I see you tonight. When you’re not a sweaty mess.
You roll your eyes at your text exchange with Dominick and toss your phone into your handbag. Last night’s shenanigans with your best friend are a blur and the sun had been up already as you two crawled back from the party you had been to. Now all you wanted was to crawl into your bed. As you drag your hungover self to the subway, you can’t help but smile to yourself, thinking about the drunk dial incident you could remember. Calling Dominick at 2am, telling him how much you missed him, how badly you wanted him, repeatedly calling him ‘Sonny Boy’ which made him giggle and that made you want him even more. It had been 3 weeks of dating and you were obsessed with him, and he with you. At times you still play hard to get but by now he knows which buttons to push to make you weak.
And you are so, so weak for him.
Without even realizing it you switch trains and make your way to Tompkins Square Park and you can hear him before you even spot him. His loud, infectious laugh. Trying your best not to let him see you, you circle the court, watching as he runs and jumps, dribbling the ball, blocking his friend’s shots. Oh he is sweaty, alright. His gray Fordham shirt drenched, his hair a sexy mess. You are biting your lip, feeling hot all of a sudden, and that’s when his friend notices you, tapping Dominick’s arm and nodding in your direction. He turns around, his eyes meeting yours, and the silliest smile appears on his flushed face.
‘You look pretty good for a hungover mess.’ Dominick points out as he walks over to you.
‘You look pretty good for a sweaty mess.’ you reply, crossing your arms and looking him up and down.
The wet shirt is stuck to him, hugging his lean upper body; his ass looking so good in those sweatpants, and are just tight enough around that glorious-
‘Hey, I’m Joe!’ the other guy introduces himself but your eyes remain on Dominick.
‘Hey Joe.’ you just answer as your boyfriend stops in front of you, the chain-link fence separating you two.
Yes, boyfriend. What else could he be when he had already said those three words to you on your first night together. And yet you hadn’t said them back yet. Scared of them really meaning something this time. Everything.
Your fingers reach out to touch his lips through the fence and he kisses them before you put them on yours.
‘Finish your game, baby. I’ll watch.’ you wiggle your brows and he winks.
‘You’re gonna distract me and make me lose.’
And boy, did he lose. You almost feel sorry for him, having Joe tease him for letting you distract him while he scores point after point after point. Dominick doesn’t seem to mind, on the contrary. He only has eyes for you and his only focus seems to be on how he can make you leave a puddle on the bench you’re sitting on. There’s a literal ache between your thighs as you watch him; the way he moves around so effortlessly and with such poise, you are dying to feel his body close to yours. As close as physically possible.
—-------
‘I usually win, y’know?’ he wipes his face in his towel and you have to laugh.
‘Oh, do you? Looked to me like you were getting your ass handed to you.’
‘Please, as if. And you sitting there in that short leather skirt didn’t have anything to do with me losing, huh?’ he sounds annoyed but you know he’s just playing around.
‘Someone’s jealous I had a good night without him.’
‘Should I be? Because I swear I could see you drooling over there on that bench watching me.’
‘Gosh, Dominick. You’re pretty full of yourself for a loser.’ you roll your eyes at him and he sighs, He knows it’s never a good idea to challenge you like this.
‘And who’s going home with said loser?’ he raises an eyebrow at you.
‘The girl in the slutty leather skirt from last night.’ you wink and run ahead of him as fast as your high heels allow it
—-----
‘I’m gonna jump in the shower real quick if you-’ you grab him by his damp shirt and lick up his neck before he can even finish his sentence.
‘Oh no you won’t.’ you smirk, inhaling his scent and it immediately brings back that ache. He smells so intoxicating, your whole body reacts to him in a way that makes you dizzy with lust.
‘Hmmm, you want that sweaty mess, huh?’ he teases, and pulls off his shirt. Yes please, give me more skin to taste, give me more of you to sniff.
You nuzzle your face in his chest like a cat, your hands needily wandering over his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps on his body.
‘I want that sweaty mess all over me. Turn me into a sweaty mess too.’ he wraps his arms around your waist and you fall apart. Fuck him for having this effect on you.
‘Just need to know how bad you’ve been last night. Were you being a little tease again like you were with me?’ his hands sneak under your skirt, coming to a surprised stop in their endeavors as he feels the lack of underwear. ‘For fuck’s sake.’ he draws in a sharp breath and you press yourself against him.
‘What? Must have lost them somewhere…’ you blink up at him from under your lashes, under the impression that you’ve left him speechless.
Instead, you feel his palm on your ass. A soft slap that makes you gasp in the best possible way. He searches your eyes for your reaction.
‘I’ve been bad.’ your tongue licks up his chest again as he slaps your ass again. ‘I think you need to bend me over for that, Dominick.’
By the time you reach his bedroom he has stripped out of his sweaty clothes and has started on getting rid of yours, leaving you only in that damn skirt and your lacy bra.
‘On your hands and knees.’ he breathes, and you follow his orders, instantly wet from the tone in his voice. You love how he gets when you tease him, and you do it for that exact reason. To get a rise out of him. Quite literally.
His palm lands on your butt again and you rock back, aware that he’s dying to bury himself inside of you as your pussy clenches around nothing. Your face is pressed into the mattress, hands holding on to his sheets as his hand rubs your ass, squeezing your flesh.
‘I love your big hands all over my ass.’
‘Good. Don’t forget who you belong to.’ Dominick breathes, and you know he doesn’t really doubt your fidelity. The fact that you like to have fun isn’t an issue for him and it makes you adore him even more.
‘All yours.’ your voice quivers with anticipation.
You don’t need foreplay when you’re with him. Although you appreciate him taking his sweet time with you, your need for him is so carnal, most of the time you just want him to fuck you senseless.
He slaps your ass again before his fingers slide up your slit, feeling your dampness and your moan turns into a whine as he withdraws them again immediately. You hear him lick his fingers. Fuck.
‘Mhmmm. My dirty girl. What has you so excited?’
‘You. Please, I need you. I missed you so much last night.’
‘Then why weren’t you here with me, huh? Left me hanging just to be naughty at the club.’ his hand lands on your butt firmly, yet not hard enough to leave a mark.
He will do that in other ways; little hickeys all over your body, tiny bruises from digging his fingers into you. And you smile thinking about how you scratch up his chest and back; you are so possessive of him and why shouldn’t it show. That’s the reason he truly doesn’t care when you leave him; because you come back every time. On hands and knees.
‘Yes, I was naughty. But all I could think about all night was you. And the things you do to me. And how you are going to punish me for teasing you.’ you look back at him with a cheeky smile and the way he smirks at you in return says it all.
‘I’d like to be stern with you, doll. But I’m so weak for you and you make it so hard.’
You reach back to grab his cock and nod in agreement.
‘So hard, huh? Well, what a shame, whatever should we do about that? Couldn’t think of a single thing, especially with my pussy up in your face in this.’ You wiggle your ass and he groans in frustration.
It’s obvious he’s trying to make you suffer, trying to tease you as long as possible but by his own admittance, he is too weak for you. Especially when you’re being mouthy like this. Dominick, as experienced as he is, isn’t used to someone like you. And vice versa.
‘I love the view.’ his hand glides over your ass and thighs, and you feel his dick jerk in your hand. ‘And I love having your pussy in my face.’
You moan as you feel his tongue between your legs, his grip tightening on your hips. As good as he is at eating you out, he isn’t allowed to do this right now. Not after getting you all hot and bothered, not after already teasing you enough. Yes, you admit, you can dish it out but you can’t take it. Not right now. And without realizing it, he got you exactly where he wanted you. Desperate, needy, craving his love. An emotional, hungover mess.
‘Don’t.’ you push him away and let yourself fall down on the bed before turning around to face him. ‘You won, okay? I love you. And I need you. Everywhere. I love you.’
Sonny smiles as he pulls you closer for more contact. ‘Well why didn’t you say so sooner?’
‘Sonny, in case you haven’t realized, I don’t like not being in control. But the thing is, you make me lose all of it.’
‘That’s not a bad thing.’
‘Okay, maybe it isn’t. Anyway, I said it. I mean it. You happy now?’ you roll your eyes at his stupid smile, welcoming the feeling of his body now fully pressed down on yours.
‘I am. Are you?’ he stares into your eyes and you try not to give in to the urge to look away. You can’t hide from him behind your jokes and teasing, behind your bratty attitude, as fun as it is sometimes.
‘I am. But I’d be so much happier if you were inside me already.’ you smile, looking at him with puppy eyes.
That familiar way in which his eyes ignite at your words makes your head spin, and you gasp as he pushes into you with one smooth motion, your hands immediately grabbing at his arms and shoulders. His lips find yours.
‘Better?’ Dominick asks, and all you can do is nod.
Had a dream last night that i was a knight and this bigger scarier knight had me on the ground and right before he swung his sword at my neck he said smth like "i mourn the loss of life for the tree who will become your coffin" which shouldnt have turned me on like it did but alas
➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.
➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”
➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”
➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”
➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”
➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.
“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.
“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”
➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”
➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”
However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!
➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.
If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)
➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“
“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.
➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.
➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”
➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.
“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”
➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.
“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”
A man who was like a grandfather to me passed away Friday night. I've got a lot of feelings about it; a main feeling revolves around how it was first brought to my attention. My mother, the person I've always have to care for, whom I've always had to comfort, the one I've had to be the rock for in every decision, change, and alteration of life. She told me about it. After not seeing her for a year, the first words she tells me, in the middle of an awkward uncomfortable hug, is that he passed the prior night.
I immediately have to take up the role again, after not having to for a whole year and half, and I feel triggered by it. I have to comfort her. I understand why.. I always have understood why.. but it doesn't make it any easier for me to deal and cope with. I do the best I can, through a whirlwind of my own emotions - keeping them to myself until I'm alone in the car. I don't even remember driving to my next destination. I don't even remember the rest of the weekend really. At some point though, I had told three people about his passing.
The one; she's a mother figure to me.. the kind I had wished for as a child. She told me to rest. She knew I'd been up a while, having worked a double at work, and was entirely stressed out about everything else going on in my personal life.
The second; a friend of mine. She messaged me that she was sorry, but didn't seem it, as she proceeded to send me photos of her dinner like usual. Maybe she meant it, but it didn't feel authentic, didn't feel like she cared. I knew this feeling all too well.. the feeling of the world continuing to move on, even though one of it's inhabitants had ceased to exist in life. I was too familiar, too intimately knowing, of this realization.
The third; another friend. One who has been going through relationship problems; quickly obsessed with one girl, and then having their heart broken after having too quickly forming an almost obsession with them, and then moving to onto the next with hope forming in their eyes once more. He barely acknowledged it when mentioned. A simple "oh" was the response. Followed by questions on if I was able to be in attendance as his +1 for a wedding. Today he messaged me about the fact he may have swiped on someone he previously knew. I was tempted to respond a simple "oh" back.
I didn't. I wouldn't. Maybe it's because I've been through this before.. meant to deal with things as delicate as life and death by myself, as I always have, though constantly craving the support back that I would give to another who is dealing with what I've dealt with, not just now but throughout my existence. I feel numb to the experience. Like it's the same puzzle, one I've done a hundred and one times, always knowing which piece fits where without having to look at the box.
Today, I was productive. Beyond productive. Don't ask me how, I'm not even sure myself, but I managed to get things done. Like always. I hadn't thought of it as having been productive today, until I had told my coworker, who told me as such. He had heard all of what I had done, today alone, and what I had to deal with in regard to my mother as well as how I was informed that I was passed over for a position within the department I already work in a way that was intentionally audacious.
However, once I had mentioned to him of the funeral service I'd be attending on Saturday, he cut me off. I had tried to brush past it quickly, not wanting to get them caught up in the seemingly bothersome experience of dealing with someone who is grieving..
I had said he passed, the man like a grandfather to me, and he said "I'm sorry." I barrelled through it, thanking him hastily, and trying to continue the conversation. He cut me off with a very deliberate tone, once again saying, "I'm sorry." He wanted to make sure I heard him. I paused for a moment. Startled and overwhelmed with the realization that the impact his death seemingly had on me had been acknowledged by someone who was adamant about letting me know that he heard me and saw me. I took a shaky breath and thanked him once more.
I just wanted to share that with someone who doesn't know me. It felt really nice, being seen like that, and having it acknowledged. I don't think anyone has ever told me that they were sorry quite like that before. It was definitely one I'll likely remember for a while. Just wanted to get it off my chest.
