#verrrry looking at me at the bar and expecting me to be hot for you
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
"if I spam you with likes it means I'm flirting" no? it means you are a coward
#I mean spam like away#love a like and reblog spree#but considering it flirting is insane#it's giving 8th grade#very puberty#verrrry 👉🏻👈🏻#verrrry looking at me at the bar and expecting me to be hot for you#bd/sm kink#free use cnc#k!nk blog#bd/sm blog#cnc somno#somno breeding#cvm wh0re#rough cnc#cvmdump#cvmslvt#cvm in my mouth#cvm slvt#cvm on me#cvmaddict#bl0wjob#needy wh0re#dumb wh0re#desperate wh0re#stupid wh0re#my txt
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
One-on-One: Rematch (Part 2)
A/N: Remember when i wrote the first one of this and I was all like “WHY can’t I write anything short?!?” And NOW we’re at part 2 of a 16K word hot mess and that annoyance over three thousand words seems so quaint. (Part 1 here)
Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD
Length: ~4,000 words
Rating: N*FW (Sex-not explicit (I think?) but it’s there. Swearing.)
Summary: When Langston made it to Nationals, Ellie planned on spending the entire time studying in her room. It didn’t end up quite as planned.
Ellie hoped it was out of her system, that her temporary insanity had run its course and she would return to her normal focus and drive, but Ingrid ruthlessly guilt-tripped her into attending a party that night. Apparently, there were parties every night, various hotel rooms and bars teeming with players and associated hanger-ons, and Ingrid was never one to be left out of a party, especially when they were celebrating a Langston victory.
She was dabbing concealer on the mark at her collarbone when Ingrid walked in, fixing her with a penetrating stare. “You know… you know what you’re doing, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Hooking up with a player? Who is it?”
Ellie blinked; her reflection looked as startled as she felt. “I don’t...I don’t know what you’re-”
“I’m not stupid.” Ingrid swiped a brilliant red over her lips, pursing them in the mirror. “You stayed out all night and showed up exhausted to the game with a hickey no makeup can hide? Seriously?”
“It’s not….” Her cheeks were as red as Ingrid’s lipstick.
“Ellie. Listen. Hooking up with players is...complicated.” She turned to fully face Ellie, hip resting against the sink, eyes imploring. “Be careful. They are in it for one thing and one thing only. And you’re never the only one. They always have fans in and out of their beds and we can’t be seen with them, anyway. It’s always temporary; no matter what, there’s always an expiration date.”
“I don’t…”
“Everyone hooks up here. Playoff week is like Candyland but then everyone goes back to the real world. And hookups with players, whether Langston or opponents... it doesn’t translate to back home.”
Ellie swallowed, hoping that it was the bathroom lights that were making her look so washed out.
“But...the guys are all in their peak physical prime so the sex is verrrry good,” Ingrid purred, wolfish smile alighting her face. “But don’t fall for it. Cuz that’s alllll they want.”
“I…” She inspected her nails.
“Ellie… I know…” Her voice was kind, confiding. “I know what you were like in high school and I have really loved seeing you come out of your shell, watch you meeting new people and having a social life. I just... I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t.” She looked up to meet Ingrid’s gaze head on in the mirror. “It’s not like that. It’s…” Images and sensations flashed through her mind, the glint in his eyes as he tracked her movements, the curve of his hand as he pulled her back into bed. “You’re right. It’s just sex. Really.”
Ingrid’s sigh echoed through the bathroom but, thankfully, she dropped it in favor of a sassy lipstick kiss on the mirror. “Fine, fine. Ready to go?”
Ellie didn’t answer the question, only dutifully followed Ingrid out the door, hoping that the party was worth giving up an evening with her nose in theorems and formulas.
It wasn’t.
The party was everything she dreaded; she could barely see through the bodies crowded in the penthouse suite. They forced their way through the crush, avoiding the flailing arms on the dance floor and cheering bros piled around a beer pong table before finally stopping by the makeshift bar.
“What do you want?” Ingrid wrinkled her nose as she looked over the selection, finally picking up some fruity spikes seltzer with dainty fingertips.
Ellie hummed absentmindedly, “I’ll have a water.” She looked through the crowd again, spying players from all the teams milling and laughing, other cheerleaders she recognized from earlier in the season. But not everyone was there, apparently; she stood on her tiptoes, stretching to see over the crowd, trying and failing to avoid looking for a certain smirk.
“You are so boring.” Ingrid chided and then grabbed her arm. “Oh, there’s Jack. I’m gonna go say hi. Be right back!”
Ellie didn’t even have time to say goodbye before Ingrid was off, weaving through the crowd, trained like a honing missile on the upperclassman she had been fawning over. Ellie sighed, leaning against the table. It would be an interminable night.
As she was nursing her drink, she felt a gentle nudge at her side.
“So are you on a women’s team or are you a cheerleader?”
She turned and immediately flushed as she realized that the boy next to her fit every single qualification of tall, dark, and handsome. Were all basketball players this cute? Of course, he was tall but the chiseled cheekbones? The dark scruff teasing its way down his jawline? She had to replay his question in her head. “Oh... cheerleader.”
“I should have guessed. It’s a prerequisite to be gorgeous, apparently. Who do you cheer for?”
“Langston.”
“Ah, we beat you guys three weeks ago. And if we both keep playing well, we’ll see you in the finals.” She nodded, but a familiar figure pushing through the crowd stole her attention. He was engrossed in an intense conversation with a tall brunette; even from here, she knew they were talking strategy, Colt’s eyes lighting up as they parried ideas back and forth. His eyes swept the crowd as he walked past the dance floor, nodding along as his friend spoke, but he stopped as soon as his eyes locked on hers. She swallowed, unable to look away, as he bid farewell to his friend and walked over, positively swaggering, every step filled with the unbridled confidence owned solely by boys who threw the first punch because they knew they would throw the last. She wished she were more stoic, able to pretend that he wasn’t affecting her, but the swoop in her stomach made it impossible to think of anything else.
However, when he sidled up to them, she was surprised that he turned instead to the boy in front of her.
“Logan?”
“Sup, Kaneko?”
“Toby was looking for you.”
“What?”
“He said something about that play you guys were drawing up. With the hand-off at center court?”
“What did he-”
“I dunno man, something about trying it while dribbling backwards?”
“What?” Logan’s eyes widened. “I gotta... I’m sorry.” He turned to her and panic flared on his face. “I have to go.”
Once Logan rushed away racing through the crowd on a mission, she flushed under Colt’s gaze; he narrowed his eyes. “What in the world you talking to him for?”
“What? What do you…” She lifted her chin to shoot him a challenging stare. “Wait, you jealous?”
“Jealous?” He rolled his eyes. “Ha. If I were, I would have just given him a black eye.”
“Why do you care who I talk to?”
“I don’t.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, deflating under her scrutinizing glare. “I am shocked to see you here.”
“What do you mean?”
“This doesn’t seem like your kinda place,” he scoffed. “I figured you would be in your room studying.”
“This doesn’t seem like your kinda place. I figured you would be in your room brooding.”
“Ha. That hurts..” He shrugged, eyes intent on her. “I mean, nothing was really going on in my room.”
She bit her lip. “Ingrid wanted to come and, after my vanishing act yesterday, I figured I should spend some time with her.”
“Well then, where is she?”
Ellie pointed to the dance floor, where Ingrid’s heavy make-out session with the Langston forward was definitely an NCAA violation.
“Hey, I know him.” Colt ducked his head to see through the crowd, rolling his eyes. “He got so huffy about a pick I made that he tried to punch me. They had to stop the game to find his tooth.”
“What?” Ellie peered through the crowd. “No, it was our center you fought.”
“Nah, different game.”
“Wait… how many times have you fought someone on my team?”
“Hmm…” he pondered, eyes narrowing, “I mean, how many times have I played you?”
“Wait…”
“Twice a year in the regular season and once in the playoffs last year, so what is that? Five?”
“You’ve... you’ve been ejected from every game you’ve played us?”
“Sweetheart… I’m ejected from about half of the games I play.”
“How are you still in the league?”
“I’ve gotten a lot of warnings.” He glanced around the room. “But people here have done far worse than me.”
She wasn’t stupid; she had heard horror stories of the trouble athletes had gotten into. It was one reason she had consciously avoided players until... well, until now. Players were not in the plan. But now?
“You wanna get outta here?”
“What?”
He shrugged. “I mean, we could stay and play drinking games and get wasted…” He nodded at her water. “Or we could not.” She smirked, holding his gaze as he ducked his head to whisper in her ear, “So, do you wanna get outta here?”
“Yeah, I do.” She really did. With one last glance across the dance floor to ensure Ingrid was occupied, she followed him back to the exit, eyebrows flying up when he clasped her palm to lead her through the mass of bodies. His hand was warm, strong, and entirely too solid for a fling with some collegiate athlete; she held tight anyway.
She eyed him closely as they walked to the elevator. Now that the roar of the party was receding, Ingrid’s words rang loud in her brain. “What did you mean when you said you noticed me?”
“What?”
“The first time we played you. This season.” The sports page said it had been his best game all season; she didn’t remember a thing except for flashcards on enthalpically driven reactions.
He raised an eyebrow. “You mean, when you were so busy studying that you didn’t even say hi to me? You ignored the star of the game?”
“Oh my God, you are so full of yourself.”
He laughed, looking far more relaxed than he had at the party; instead of being on guard, he looked almost boyish, young, eyes gleaming in the elevator lights. “When I first saw you, you were berating your friend.”
“What?” Of all the things she was expecting, that was not it.
“Your roommate? Ingrid? She made some mistake in her hand placement of a hold and you were trying to fix it before the game. And then you made the team try to retry the jump flip thing?”
“The what?”
“Christ, I don’t know what it’s called. You jump in the air and flip around and three people catch you before you crater onto the court. You made them do it repeatedly until you thought it was perfect.”
The doors opened, and she stepped out, glancing over at him.
“I honestly couldn’t fucking tell a difference any of the times you did it.”
“I…” She followed him down the hall, brow furrowed. “I thought you would say something about the skirt.”
“I do like the skirt.” He reached into his pocket for the key, eyes on her the entire time. “But you’re tough. You didn’t take Ingrid’s shit. Hell, you don’t take my shit. You have high expectations of others, but you expect perfection from yourself. You’re smart and you don’t let anyone stand in your way.”
The door opened with a ding and she stumbled in, unsteady. Apparently, Colt’s talents at surgically cataloguing and exposing the strengths and weaknesses of others was not confined solely to the court.
“What? Why do you...?” he asked.
She blinked, inhaled slowly, exhaled slower, and finally spoke. “You sound like a fortune cookie.”
He laughed again; thankfully, his head fell back so he missed how weak her return smile was as her eyes drifted to his jersey, tossed in a heap on the floor. The championship game was in five days.
If that was her expiration date, then goddamn, she would make the most of it. Straightening, she stalked over to him. “Did you bring me here only to talk?”
He looked down to where her fingers were touching his arm and then caught her eye. “How about some dirty talk?” She rolled her eyes, blush flaring, and he stepped even closer. “How ‘bout some things that definitely wouldn’t be on a fortune cookie?”
Her breath stopped as he ducked his head, lips tracing her cheek, neck, lower, following a trail of red as far as it went, then lower as they fell to the carpet.
They didn’t make it to the bed.
And when security banged on their door to inquire about a noise complaint, Ellie could not stop stuttering apologies, Colt could not stop laughing; once they left, it became his mission to make her scream even louder.
He succeeded.
~~~~~
Ellie woke up slow. Her muscles ached, the best kind of sore, and she sighed in satisfaction. The room was gauzy around her but, as things slowly came into focus, she realized her head was pillowed on a muscular chest, legs intertwined, sunlight just starting to crawl up the starched sheets.
“Colt?”
His eyes were focused on his phone, staring intently at something flashing across the screen. He didn’t move.
“Hey, Colt?”
Finally, he looked down and realized she was awake. “Oh, hey.” He pulled out an earbud. “Morning.”
“Morning. What are you so focused on?”
“Hmm? It’s game tape.”
“What is it?” She sat up, curling into his side to peer at the screen. “Oh my God, you narcissist. Are you watching yourself?”
“Ha ha.” He wrapped his free hand tighter around her waist and sighed, “It’s the game against Williamsburg. See him #42?”
“Yeah.”
“He torched us for a double-double. That’s not gonna happen again.”
He hit play, and the video ran, zoomed in on the player Colt referenced. Ellie had learned a lot from cheering at game after game, but she was no expert. However, even she could tell he was their best player, watching him drain three after three. She squinted at the screen. “What is that weird thing he does with his hand?”
“What weird thing?” Colt hummed.
“The weird flick thing. With his wrist.”
“Huh? What are you…” Colt moved the video back a few seconds to watch. And did it again.
“That! You see that?”
“Yeah….” He sat up slowly, eyes trained on the screen. “He does it before his pump fake. Holy… how did you…”
“Biomechanical engineering, remember?”
“Damn…” he finally turned to her, eyes gleaming, and the awe in his voice made her flush. “I am so fucking keeping you around!”
And when his lips crashed into hers, she could almost forget the twisting in her gut that reminded her of their expiration date, her plans, and the fact that no one was keeping anyone around.
Almost.
~~~~~
Ellie was tucked back into his sheets when he sauntered out of the bathroom. She stared. It had been a while since she had seen him in actual clothes.
“Are you going to the other quarterfinals games?” he asked, toweling his hair.
“Uh…..no? Why would I?”
“I dunno. I go to all of them.”
“Why?”
“Well, we play whoever wins the afternoon game and I think it’s gonna be Williamsberg. Good time to scope out the competition.”
“That’s very strategic of you.”
He leaned over the bed to kiss behind her ear. “I’ll show you strategic.” Then, his tongue parted her lips, stealing her breath until there was a pounding on the door.
“Come on, we’re gonna be late,” a feminine voice hollered from outside.
He pulled back. “Give me a second, for Christ’s sake!” He turned back to Ellie and kissed down her jaw, sloping down her neck. “I’ll be back, ok?”
“What?” she whispered.
“Yo, Kaneko, let’s go.” The girl from outside pounded on the door again.
“Will you be here when I get back?”
Her eyes widened. “If you’re going to both games... you want me to stay here until 10 tonight?”
The kisses returned to the side of her neck, lower, and she tangled her hands in his shirt. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Fine.” She couldn’t help but return the smile, laughing as he flashed her one last wink before ducking out the door and settling back against the pillow.
She lounged for a while, flipping back and forth between channels and seeing what appeared to be every single Picta image ever posted before she snuck out, hotel key firmly in her pocket, and made her way down the stairs to duck back into her own hotel room.
Ingrid greeted her with a raised eyebrow. “Where have you been?” Her eyes immediately found the hickie on Ellies neck and she leered, “And what, or who, have you been doing?”
“Oh my God, stop.” Ellie barely glanced her way before sticking her head in her backpack, rummaging around for a couple textbooks. If she was hanging out in a strange room all day, she might as well get some studying in.
“Seriously, though. Are you...Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yes! Yes yes, jeez, yes. I’m having fun. Isn’t that what you want for me?”
“Yeah, but…” Ingrid frowned. “I just worry. You’re so set on studying and school and after school...I don’t want some loser meathead to ruin it for you.”
“He’s not-” She had to physically bite her tongue to stop herself from refuting the phrase. Colt was a lot of things, a walking ball of contradictions wrapped in tight muscles and fast fists, but meathead loser was far from it. Unfortunately, Ingrid’s raised eyebrows suggested she knew exactly how Ellie would have finished that sentence. She sighed and started over, “He won’t ruin anything. I have a plan and I’m sticking to it. He’s just….” She had to inhale a shuddering breath to power through the rest of the words. “He’s a fling. It’s just sex and, after this, everything is gonna go right back to normal. My future plans are fine.”
“Ah yes, Ellie’s seven step plan to get her doctorate and take over the world.”
“Not the whole world.” Where were her highlighters?
“I worry about you.”
“I’m fine. It’s all fine.”
But even when Ellie clutched her books to her chest and headed out the door again, even when she did her best to keep her head high and fight back the blush, Ingrid did not look convinced.
Ellie didn’t know how convinced she was herself.
~~~~~
The only sound in the room was the ESPN announcers droning on and the scratch of a pen over dense words. She had nearly finished the chapter on thermodynamic principles, sprawled over the bed with her toes buried under warm sheets, when the door opened.
“Hey, how were the games?” She finished writing out a formula on an index card, checking to make sure she had noted the correct number of atoms.
“Good. We’re gonna win it all this year, you wait. Williamsburg looked rough.”
“What about Langston?!?”
“Yeah, I don’t…” He sat next to her, trailing off as he noticed that the television was on. “Ugh, turn that shit off.”
“What do you mean? They’re talking about the playoffs.”
He reached for the remote but she held it over the side of the bed, giggling as he flailed. “Look, Langston, there we are. Future champ-Hey! Red and gold. Wait, that’s you!”
“You know they replay this shit, right? They showed it already.”
“You’ve seen it? Don’t ruin it for me, big shot.”
She glanced over at him and his jaw was set, eyes hard.
“Colt?” He didn’t move, eyes looking through the television in front of them, sour lines painted across his face, even though the announcer was droning on about his court vision and passion. She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Hey, I can turn it off.”
“It’s fine, whatever.” He shook his head and sighed, eyes looking past the tv, past the wall. She frowned. “I just wonder sometimes... does he fucking see this shit? He never watched a fucking game, he never fucking showed but now, that asshole... he cares so much about the family name, the family legacy and now, when people look up Kaneko, it’s me. It’s me they see, not that asshole.” He blinked furiously, still staring straight ahead.
She hit the power button, dropping the remote on the floor to straddle him, cupping his cheeks to look him in the eye. “Colt.” He didn’t even blink, staring straight through her. “Colt.” She thumbed his cheekbone; he didn’t move. “Kaneko.”
“You’ve…” His eyelashes fluttered slowly as he gazed at her. “You’ve never called me that.”
“Isn’t that what your teammates call you?”
“It hits a little different when you say it.”
“Huh? How so?”
“When people say it to me…” He swallowed, hard. “When people say it to my dad...I’m used to it being hollered or screamed. Not...” He trailed off.
“Not what?”
“Not all sexy.” His gaze softened when she glared, and his voice dropped so she had to strain to hear. “Not like it means something.”
“You’re the only Kaneko that means something.”
She gasped as the room spun, landing on her back as he hovered over her. “Call me that again.”
“Kaneko,” she gasped and his lips found her neck, lower, sharp pinpoints of white pain as he found the bruise on her collarbone.
“Again.”
“Kaneko,” she moaned and a tense hand dove into her hair, tilting her head to the side to drive teeth into her sensitive neck. Her hips bucked.
“Me, my name,” he growled into her ear and her vision dimmed, consciousness fading to the only things that mattered: his hands rough on her hips and his voice a rasp in her ears.
“Colt. Cooolt. Kaneko. Colt, please!” He ripped the shirt off his head and her clothes followed, flying through the room, textbooks slamming on the floor, a flurry of motion until she was underneath him, nails digging into his back. He slid inside of her and she screamed, pressure building as his name fled her lips, along with epithets far too vulgar for daylight, as he worked her into a frenzy and then an explosion, when names and sight and anything except for white-hot pleasure was meaningless.
~~~~~
At least when she woke up next, it was still morning. But, by the time they got their act together, breakfast in bed followed by a shower and, a few hours after that, another shower, it was no longer morning, sun high in the sky as Colt grabbed his wallet. “You ever been to Nationals before?”
“Nope.” She shrugged. “Freshman, remember?”
He smiled, grabbing his key from the desk. “Then let’s get outta here.”
“What?”
“Let’s go. See the sights. You don’t have a game until tonight, right?
“Yeah… our semifinal match. I need to be at the arena at 7.”
“Good. Come on.”
She was confused but followed, escaping the hotel to make their way into the city, avoiding the crowds and the press to hop a bus downtown. They grabbed lunch at the waterfront, Colt threatening to push her in the river, hands solid around her waist as she laughed and laughed and laughed. He bought her ice cream and then wiped vanilla on her cheek; his tongue was absolutely indecent as it licked it off, entirely inappropriate for a crowded street. She couldn’t bring herself to complain through her flush. He followed her through small shops, grumbling bitterly the entire way, but she still snapped a photo of him in prop sunglasses and a cowboy hat before he put her in a headlock, pulling her out the shop door as the bell rang merrily over their heads.
And when she arrived at the arena, 20 minutes before game time, clutching her uniform in both hands, he pushed her against the closed doors to thoroughly map her mouth, lips pinned to hers as hungry hands roved her body and her Langston blue-and-whites fell to the pavement as she pulled him even closer.
And during the game, she had no idea what the score was, registering neither her routine nor the Langston victory; her mind was far away, and she felt distracted, disembodied, until she was sliding the key into the lock and was falling back into his bed.
.
Tags
Perma @desireepow-1986 @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn @thequeenofcronuts @lilyofchoices @choicesarehard
ROD @omgjasminesimone @mskaneko @lovemychoices @burnsoslow
Colt
@deimosensblog @alegria1580 @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @zaira-oh-zaira @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices @maxwellsquidsuit @liamzigmichael4ever @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction
52 notes
·
View notes