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saintescuderia · 1 month

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pancakes (pt. 1)

welcome a new multi-chapter fic. enjoy.

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :)

P1 - bulgarian split squats

Really, the only way to survive Formula 1 was by going to the gym.

The gym addiction was something that had existed long before joining the circus of a motorsports paddock filled with politics and rumours, as well as the slim fitting uniforms that always seemed to be accompanied by, in your opinion, ugly ass shoes.

Sure, Puma was the offical sponsor but couldn’t they get anything other than the Speedcat? And what even was that name? Speedcat? It was on brand, sure, but at what cost? Really? If Formula 1 was trying to grow its popularity they could honestly start with their dress code. Seeing Christian Horner in Skechers really took the intimidation out of him when you served him his double espresso during the Spanish Grand Prix that one time last season.

One of the perks of working in Hospitality - and there were very few far and in between - was that uniform was not so strict. F1 Hospitality only required an all black service with ‘comfortable shoes.’ This you took for interpretation. Dunks. Jordan 4s. Maybe 1s. Never 13s. Forces were good for a night race - that usually meant more stairs - and Vans were what you reached for in the morning when you knew you’d be working the barista shift. Converse were for ‘throw away’ races.

These were the races where you knew the shoe-care was not important. For example, Silverstone with its torrential UK drinkers who were likely to throw up on your beloved sneakers. Alas, you had learned the hard way when you almost lost your job by rushing to the kitchen to start scrubbing the vomit off your blue and red Cortez during peak lunch.

Never again.

Admittedly, you did try to keep at least one pair of Converse in good care since they were the renowned shoe come leg day.

Another perk of working in F1 Hospitality was that every circuit’s map layout had been drilled into your head. Meaning you always knew exactly where the communal driver’s gym was located at and could therefore get your daily dose of dopamine before dealing with… well, everything.

You silenced the shrill horror that came from the iPhone alarm. 4:00 read the lockscreen, the light shining brightly into your face. It didn’t help that your wallpaper had a photo with a clear blue sky, making the light even harsher in the darkness. You could’ve very well changed it and avoid the pain you routinely go through every morning. But it was this very photo that reminded you why you were getting up in four in the morning in the first place.

You had snapped it during a free practice in Italy that had miraculously lined up with a break in your shift. The sky was clear and the red car was small, but clear on the circuit. Ferrari, of course. You still remember the buzz that circled around the paddock staff that day. No matter who you routed for or whatever bias you had, there was a unanimously acknowledgement that Ferrari winning at Monza was special. He was special.

Then again, you’ve known that long before he stood on that podium in Italy and was given his infamous nickname.

It didn’t even take you ten minutes until you were out the door. Your gym clothes (pump cover included!) were on the one limpy chair that decorated your poor little hotel room, your shaker sat on top of your gym bag with you black high top Converse right beside it. By the time you had made it to the gym, it was a little past 4:15 and you had already scooped in pre-workout into your mouth ready to get through the oncoming pain.

Your hips were a little tight, as per normal. The left side even more so. The hood of your hoodie was up, headphones on and blasting the hardstyle house music that would see you through the next two hours. You went through your usual stretches but with today’s added focus on the lower body.

And then you went about destroying your legs.

It was about an hour or so that Oscar finally sleepily arrived. You weren’t actually sure what time it was but you were up to doing bulgarian split squats - and hating life - and that was usually at the hour mark. You gave him a curious once over, noting the odd choice of clothing. It was a little odd to see a driver in the paddock wearing athleisure that wasn’t their team uniform.

“Bro, it’s five in the morning.” Oscar groaned, shuffling over to come and sit on the bench next to you. You gave another three more reps - Oscar silently watching you groan in pain through the last two - and then finally dropped the dumbbells. You reached over to take a sip of water and checked the phone for the time.

“It’s five thirteen in the morning.” You corrected. It had been just about the hour mark. “Are we training today or?” It wasn’t the first time Oscar had joined you. The reason his neck was getting stronger was because of you. In your opinion, the trainer Alpine had assigned Oscar was a fucking idiot.

“You’re doing legs.” Oscar pointed out, as if that was enough of an answer. He leaned to lay back down on the bench and stared up as he continued to speak. “Drivers don’t need bulky legs. We’ve been over this.”

You had. Many times. You knew he was right. It still would be nice to have someone to go through legs with you, though.

“So train with light weights.” You offered, trying. Oscar just gave you a look that made it clear he was not picking up any type of weights. You shrugged, not deterred. “I’ll do calisthenics with you. Or we can work on plyometrics.” Oscar’s response was to close his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Fuck it man, do some cardio.” You came to the last resort, coming to kick his legs as you walked past to load up the smith machine with some different plates.

“Piss off Tezza.” The Australian-ness continuing to shine through with the nickname that Oscar had specifically designed for you in respect of your shared citizenship to the ‘land down under.’

Except unlike the blond caucasian boy who loved AFL, grew up in Brighton East and attended Haileybury, your Australian-ness was less obvious. Your accent, for one, wasn’t as prominent since your parents were African immigrants. This, of course, didn’t just influence your speech patterns and accent.

Dark skin, dark eyes and dark hair, you weren't exactly the picture of a 'true blue Aussie.' The rite of public school bullying from those who did look 'Australian' (whatever that meant) had you scoffing at vegemite and preferring to follow EPL and La Liga than whatever the fuck was Aussie Rules Football.

Why is it called football if the players pick up the ball?

Still, when a homesick Oscar Piastri overheard one of the Hospitality staff yell out that that they were going for a 'Macca’s run' between the practice sessions on his very first F1 race weekend, he instantly picked up on the Australian-ism. And he didn’t let it go. And cue the beginning of a friendship that had Oscar Piastri calling you ‘bro’ and shortening your last name as per Australian rite.

Even if you had sworn off that sort of thing.

“Oscar, man, if you ain’t here to train then why are you?” You said, locking the plates in place on the smith machine. You lifted up your hood up and ducked under the bar to rest the metal against you shoulders, the hood acting as a cushion. The starting weight was light enough that you wouldn't have to worry about music for your first set. Besides, if Oscar was here, he could be the entertainment for this set. “You forget that this is a driver’s only gym. You could get in trouble." The sarcasm was all too clear in your voice.

No one used the ‘drivers-only’ gym. It was something that every Grand Prix had set up. Mobile, communal and high-end, it had enough equipment to rival the local 24/7 studio franchise gym that seemed to exist in every neighbourhood. Despite the fact that every driver preferred to train at their own motorhome gym - or that every team had their own mobile gym set up in conjunction to the motorhome - F1 still went about packing up and moving their own studio gym to every single location come race weekend.

If anything, it was a nice stop during the presentation walk during the sponsorship lunches where good old Stefano Domenicali would show off all the amazing resources that the Grand Prix space has to offer.

So, no. F1’s Driver Gym was not used.

The only reason it wasn’t gathering dust was because every weekend it was packed up and moved. That and you woke up at 4am every weekend to destroy your muscles in the familiar red and black equipment.

"You're here." Oscar reminded you. "And not a driver."

You ignored him and just kept up with your repetitions, focusing on engaging your glutes and keeping your core tight. Oscar was silent as you finished your first set. When you finished your last rep, he stood up and came round as you locked the machine. He knew you well enough to pick up the 10kg and help add it to the sides.

"Thanks." You said. Oscar nodded and added the weight to the other side. There was a quiet air for a moment and you went to pick up your headphones to put them back on. Things were getting heavier and you would need music to get through the next few sets.

“I might be leaving Alpine.”

You looked up at Oscar who dropped the bomb and then looked back at your headphones. You sighed and then dropped the headphones back to land in your gym bag. Headphoneless, you went back to the machine and Oscar took your invitation.

“Zak Brown approached me yesterday and suggested something about picking me up for next year.” Oscar said.

You just kept squatting. Oscar was far too removed to yet be aware of - well, everything.

“And with talk of Fernando quitting, I know that Alpine will be calling me up but do I trust that? Honestly Lando has been doing so well and Ocon has always pissed me off.” Oscar watched as you started to struggle.

He stood up and came around to help you but you just shook you head. You pushed through one more rep and then called it.

“He does have a punchable face.” You said, now out of breath. Esteban had always annoyed you and before meeting Oscar, you used to dread the weekends where you were put on Alpine.

Your friend handed you the water bottle sat beside your gym bag before you could even ask. You gave a two finger salute in thanks as he continued on.

“And Lily and I got into this massive fight again! Apparently I don’t communicate enough!” He huffed. “But I sent her flowers and chocolates because she’s going through finals and she likes daisies and Cadbury."

“Yeah, but is that her love language though?” You asked, dropping your bottle and going to stack up the final set of weights on the smith machine. Oscar stood up again to help you.

“Her what?” He asked, handing you the plate.

“Love language.” You answered, still panting, and explained, “You’ve got physical touch, gift giving, quality time, words of affirmation and acts of service.”

“Are you saying people love in specific ways?" Oscar asked, quick to process new information as always.

“Exactly. You did something nice for her, an act of service. Maybe all she wants is a nice, long phone call or maybe some texts complimenting her or something.” You shrugged and then brought up your headphones.

Oscar accepted this, knowing the last set would require music.

He watched you as you settled back under the smith machine bar and went on squatting more than his body weight. He shook his head and ran a hand over his face. He really shouldn't have been surprised at your lack of surprise. Little shocked you. That or your might’ve already known and just kept it to yourself. F1 Hospitality were a part of the Formula One Group and, therefore, were not associated to any one team. They had rotations across all teams and, therefore, every member of staff were required to sign an NDA. Not that ever did anything in this damn place.

Still, Oscar knew that you were one of the few genuine people left in this place.

He knew that there would’ve been so many opportunities where you could’ve easily done something for yourself by recounting something you had overheard while pouring Toto Wolff his coffee or serving Mattia Binotto his lunch. It was the reason why so many teams hired their own internal hospo staff.

It was also the reason why Oscar felt comfortable coming to tell you about Alpine and McLaren before he had even told his own parents, or Lily. The argument with his girlfriend had prevented him from getting any sleep, mulling it over in his mind for hours. Oscar knew you would be able to help him through it all.

And that you would be the only one awake at this godforsaken hour.

By the time you had finished your first set, he was Googling love languages and having a quick read through.

By the time you had finished your second set, he was halfway through doing the love languages quiz.

By the time you had finished your third and final set, he was seeing what the problem was between him and Lily.

“I think Lily is words of affirmation and I'm acts of service." He said, coming up to the machine as you stepped back and pulled down your headphones. You blinked and nodded, still put of breath. "I think I forgot to check in with her and send her some compliments. Tell her I'm proud of her for getting through exams. Especially because she never is one for gifts, really."

You held out your hand to him. "There you go. Growth."

"I don't know what to do about Alpine."

"Call a lawyer."

Oscar pursed his lips and then considered this. That wouldn't be his first move but thinking about it, it was probably for the best. "That's actually a good idea."

"Isn't that why you're here?" You retorted. "Since you're not here to train. Speaking of which, the fuck is that?"

“What?” He asked and realised you were looking at his feet.

“Zak Brown isn’t going to hire you if he finds out that you’re wearing fucking thongs with socks.” You said, finally recognising the flip-flops he wore with some white socks that really needed to be washed.

“You’ve been a great help, thanks.” Oscar smiled. You rolled your eyes and went to your gym bag. Pulling out a pair of white Adidas Sambas, you tossed them to Oscar.

“Put these on.”

“Is my footwear really that offensive to you?”

“We’ll go run the track.” You said then gestured to all of him. “It’ll help you burn all of this off.”

Oscar sighed and did as he was told. He laced up the shoes you'd given him that surprisingly fit his large feet and followed you out to the track. He used his pass to get through since a driver running the track at 5:30 in the morning would just be seen as the dedication to the grind. A Hospitality staff member would just be accused of breaking in.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re going through a crisis. I’ve always wanted to do a morning run on the track.” You said with a grin as the pair of you came to the starting line that, in a matter of hours, would be full of mechanics, engineers, reporters, camera crew members and, of course, drivers.

“If I get a seat at McLaren, you can be my trainer.” Oscar said as you both started warming up into a light jog.

"Ha." You snorted. "As if you could afford me, bro."

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callsigndragon · 1 year

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Seeing Red | Ch.7: 📲 Little Mitchells ✍️

Summary: Who's gonna tell dad?

Masterlist on pinned.

THERE'S A WRITTEN SECTION AFTER THE TEXTS!

“They know, right?” Red mumbles, her eyes never leaving Liam’s figure.

“Yeah. But don’t worry, they’re mad at me.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know. Not even I knew.”

Jake's phone lits up, revealing the wedding photo he had kept as his lockscreen for years. He tries to hide it, turning the phone, but Red’s hand stops him. The feeling of her warm, soft skin almost makes him cry again.

“You have our wedding picture as a wallpaper?”

“Dada” Jake drops the phone and grabs Liam’s hands. He had been hugging him since he saw him in the parking lot. He didn’t want to let go. Jake didn't want to let go either.

“Yes, buddy?”

Liam’s hands move up to Jake’s face, squishing his cheeks and making the pilot laugh. He starts speaking in his own language, which Jake doesn’t understand. He turns to Red, asking for help with wide eyes.

“He wants you to sleep with him tonight.” She whispers.

“Oh well, I don’t know if I-”

“Pwease”

Charlotte parks in front of the house, gets out of the car, and opens the door to take Liam in his arms. “Come on, baby. Mom and Dad have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Dada don’t leave!” Liam yells, already feeling anxious about being taken away from his dad.

“Not leaving, promise. Look.” Jake takes off his dog tags, handing them to his son. “Dada can’t leave without these. You hold them, and Dada won’t go away. Okay?”

“Otay,” he giggles. And just like that, he walks inside the house.

“He likes shiny things.” Red comments, looking at her feet. “I always told him that you were far away saving the world and that you would sleep with him once you came back.”

“Red, look at me, please.”

She raises her head, tears welling up in her beautiful eyes. “I didn’t want to hide him I swear, you never answered my calls and-”

Jake hugs her, for the first time in three years, he feels the world fall into place. “Don’t worry about that. I’m the only one responsible for this mess, Red. I just… I want to be part of his life.”

“Jake, this isn’t like having a relationship. If you assume that role, if you want to be his father, you can’t back out. I’m not letting you hurt him as much as you hurt me.”

“I won’t. I can’t explain why I did that, but I swear on my son that I did what I thought was right.”

Red sighs, sitting on the car's hood. “It’s complicated to explain to a two-year-old that his parents are divorced.”

“I can’t even imagine,” he sits next to her, smiling when he hears Liam’s voice from inside the house. “What does he think we are?”

“He thinks his dad is a superhero, and he has to be away from his wife and son to protect the world but also to protect them from the bad guys.”

Jake almost snorts. It’s like she knows the truth. “So in his eyes, we’re married and love each other.”

“Yep.”

“What’s the plan, Commander?”

Red chuckles, a nervous laugh that ends up in tears. “I don’t know, I wasn’t prepared for this to happen. I feel like a bad mom, a horrible woman, and a bitchy ex-wife.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad. I abandoned my wife and unborn son, never talked about her to anyone, missed two years of my child’s life, and just found out that I’m the biggest asshole this planet has seen.”

They laugh at the same time. What a mess they’re in.

“You are more than welcome in Liam’s life. But if you leave, I will haunt you and skin you alive.” There’s a fire in her eyes. The same one he saw outside Cyclone's office.

A lioness protecting her cub.

“I will gladly sit down and wait for you to kill me if I hurt him.”

“Come on, he’s as impatient as you.”

Red walks in front of him, but stops immediately. She turns, finger raised, and points at him. “This doesn’t mean that we are gonna end up together again. I made that mistake once. I will not make it again.”

“This isn’t about us anymore, Red. It’s about him.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

Tag list: @purplevortexx @shrimping-for-all @caitsymichelle13 @callmemana @abaker74 @starkleila @topgunmenbefinebruh @blue-aconite @tayrae515 @alexxavicry @xoxabs88xox @mercurio23 @smells-like-perfect-senses @dempy @djs8891 @indynerdgirl @countryclubswifey @lauenderhaze @avaleineandafryingpan @poppyalice2001 @emorychase @wildxwidow @agentwayne17 @shanimallina87 @khaylin27 @fudosl @rhirhikingston @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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bruciemilf · 2 years

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Do you have any more jaykori headcanons? They're so sweet!

I'M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR RAREPAIRS

So it's pretty wide reach that Jason's body is always just a touch colder than anyone else's, and for that reason he avoids physical contact with anyone, right? STAR DOES NOT HAVE THAT PROBLEM

Jaybaby is touch starved and she's like, EAT UP *hugs him for one thousand years* she's the big spoon, he's the little spoon, but they switch

Jason absolutely has her as his lockscreen. As soon as he learned how to handle a phone that couldn't break floors, that's the first thing he did. He has blurry, amatory shot pics of his family but hers looks like it was snapped by Da Vinci

STAR ABSOLUTELY LOVES THE WAYNES SEND TWEET! SHE LOVES THAT HE'S A FAMILY MAN! SHE LOVES THAT HE'S A DADDY'S BOY EVEN IF HE WON'T ADMIT IT!

Puppy eyes, aka Jason's Todd ultimate bane " Your father invited us to dinner, we should go! I know you love being around them. Pleaaaaase?" "...Fuck you and your puppy eyes, truly."

Whenever Jason's mad at her, he speaks a made up, non existent langauge just to annoy her. Is this a ploy to get more kisses from her? Maybe so.

When STAR is mad at him, she'll hide all his jackets and also draw on the red hood helmet. Or just call him cutesty nicknames in front of his henchmen

THEY DO NOT IGNORE EACHOTHER WHEN THEY'RE MAD!! these two dangerous cinnamon buns can't handle it

Star feels the need to stay in contact with Blackfire and try to reform her (even tho she literally sold her into slavery and forced her into an arranged marriage and - this isn't a Blackfire friendly account srry) and Jason is NOT with that

He sees Blackfire and its on sight; Will it get him send to the ER with 3rd degree burns and 90% of his body in a cast? Yes. Fuck off tho you're not talking to my girl -

BATTLE COUPLE BATTLE COUPLE BATTLE COUPLE -

Jason has no idea they're technically married apparently- Star is surprised, oh, I thought you knew? Of course we can break the matrimonial vow if you-

Jason, cutting his finger with a book page: GOOD LUCK TRYING TO RETURN ME WHEN YOU ALREADY OPENED ME

She makes him try Tamaranian dishes and he eats every single one. The disturbing part is that he actually likes some of them

#YOUR HONOR THEMMMMMM #jason todd #starfire #koriand'r #jaykori #jaykory #jayfire #jason x kory #dc #dc comics #text post #headcanons #dc imagines #redhood and the outlaws #rhato

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pekejscatbed · 3 months

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I'm Feeling Devious (you're looking glamorous) | Dick x Jason x Roy x Wally

info/warnings: smut & fluff, ftm Dick, fingering, masturbation, filming, pseudo incest, idk what else to put

batman masterlist

I originally planned to have this posted almost two months ago, but then my cat, Cotton Candy, died. And then my other cat, KitKat, got sick a month later, and after syringe feeding her for two weeks, she died, too.

So, yeah. Fanfic author curse is real, I guess.

------

Jason is in the midst of freeing himself of the Red Hood uniform when his phone buzzes from the couch, where he haphazardly tossed it upon returning to the safe house after a night of solo patrol; he sighs and ignores it, stripping himself from the rest of his uniform and his underclothes, leaving him in nothing but his Arsenal themed boxers, a black base with little red arrows and gray trucker hats scattered about and the words "Arsenal's Property" sprawled across the ass in fancy, red cursive lettering, custom ordered by Roy as a gag Valentines Day present a couple of years ago (he also owns a pair of Nightwing and Flash boxers, gags gift from all three of his partners that he wore regularly on nights like these, when he's stuck in Gotham by himself, missing his boyfriends who all are on a mission- though normally, they aren't all on the same mission, and Jason is just a little bit salty about it).

The phone buzzes again and this time, Jason picks it up, three messages lit up on his lockscreen under Roy's contact. Jason opens his phone to view the messages, one reading, "missing you jaybaby <3", the second showing a picture of Dick in nothing but his Red Hood red underwear and sitting in Wally's fully clothed lap, the gingers hands on Dick's chest and Dick's hands buried in Wally's fluffy red hair, and the last message being of a video, the starting screen showing an imagine of Wally in all his glory, one hand closed around his erect cock and the other over his mouth, like he's trying to keep quiet, and his eyes are wide open, seemingly staring at something to the side of the camera.

Jason flushes, warmth beginning to swirl around inside his gut as he sits down on the couch, tapping the play button.

------

Roy hums into Wally's clothed stomach as the speedster runs his fingers through the other man's greasy hair and asks about the science behind some of Roy's trick arrows, the archer nodding in affirmation to Wally's most recent question, when Wally suddenly stops playing with the others hair and ceases his questioning, and Roy looks up at him in question only to see him staring at something behind Roy with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. Turning his head, Roy wolf whistles at the sight before his eyes, a grin settling on his face; Dick is standing in front of the bed bare ass naked, and what a fine ass it is, back turned to his two ginger boyfriends as he rummages through his suitcase, pulling out a pair of red boxer shorts- the same exact shade as Jason's Red Hood helmet- and turns around, showing off his bush and smirking at the sight of the others as he steps into the underwear, pulling them up his legs. He doesn't put on a shirt, breasts on full display.

"You're drooling, Walls."

Wally wipes at his mouth with his hand. "You're just that hot, babe."

"Yeah," Roy nods in agreement and sits up from his place between Wally's thick speedster thighs, grin still on his face "I'd kill to be in that bush."

"Go take a shower, Roy." Dick smiles as he speaks, walking to the bed to lightly shove the archer off, who dramatically stumbles for a second before catching himself. The ravenette pulls him into a quick kiss then shoos him away, watching him walk to the bathroom Dick had just exited and listening for the sound of the water turning back on.

Dick crawls into Wally's lap at the sound of the water running, legs on either side of the latter's strong thighs. Wally is fully clothed, preferring the comfort of his Nightwing themed lounge pants and one of his old Flash t-shirts from before he became The Flash himself, the logo faded to almost nothing, while Dick prefers little clothes after bathing. Wally's hands easily find his boyfriends hips, Dicks hands running over Wally's shoulders to the back of his neck, curling the gingers hair around his fingers, and they both lean in, capturing each other's lips in a soft kiss.

"You taste like cookies." Dick speaks as he pulls away from the kiss, eyes roaming Wally's face, silently counting the freckles dusting his skin.

Wally hums, eyes closed as he soaks in his lover's attention, content. "Flavored lip balm. Do you like it?"

Leaning in for another kiss, Dick whispers "yes" against the speedsters' lips. His tongue darts out to lick at Wally's flavored lips, savoring the sweet taste of cookie lip balm, and Wally lets out a small groan into Dick's mouth, who takes the chance to slip his tongue inside the gingers mouth. As they kiss, the ravenette reaches for one of the hands on his waist, slowly guiding Wally to his chest, and he shivers as the hand cups his breast and thumbs over his nipple, bringing his own hand back to Wally's neck and burying his fingers in the others hair, lightly gripping as Wally begins to tweak his nipple. Dick's body reacts to his boyfriends' touch, hips rolling and grinding against Wally, who bucks his own hips up to meet Dicks, the movement and pressure going straight to the pair's groins, Wally's length hardening within the confines of his pants and moisture growing between Dicks legs.

As the pair continue to grind against one another, kissing and groping and moaning, Roy finishes his shower, exiting the hotel bathroom in nothing but a white towel that sits low on his waist, happy trail on display. He whistles again as he takes in the beauty that is his lovers moving together through gasps and pants, hands roaming each other's bodies. He wants to preserve the moment, to capture the charm and elegance that his boyfriends possess, that their bodies emit as passion and pleasure takes over and bubbles around them, spilling over their surroundings and filling the air with a pure, unfiltered lust that has Roy's whole body enveloped in warmth. The archer leans against the dresser/TV stand combo that sits on the wall across from the bed and grabs his phone from the corner where he set it when they came in, opening his camera to capture his lover's passion in a photograph- Dick's near naked body in Wally's lap, the two kissing and grinding as Wally gropes at Dick's bare skin and Dick tugs at Wally's ginger locks.

"Jay's gonna love this." Roy speaks as the picture is taken, then sets his phone back down, admiring his present boyfriend's bodies, their love, and the two take a minute to keep pressing against one another before they're pulling away to catch their breaths, and Dick turns his head to look at Roy, panting as he smiles.

"Wanna make him a movie, baby?" Wally whines and buries his head in the crevice between Dicks neck and shoulder, pressing kisses to his naturally tan skin. "You like that, Walls?"

Wally nods into the ravenettes neck, teeth grazing skin as he begins to lick and suck and nip.

"I think we should make him the star, yeah?" Roy's voice is deep, raspy with lust, and the words force another whine from Wally's throat.

Dick smirks in agreement. "Yeah." And then he's lifting himself from Wally's lap and off the bed, standing despite Wally's protesting, hands grabbing at Dick's arms in attempt to keep him there, held against Wally's warm body. Leaning down, Dick presses a soft kiss to Wally's lips and holds his face in his hands, forcing Wally to look up at him from his spot on the bed. "Wanna put on a show for Jason, baby?" Wally nods. "Be a good boy and listen to me then, okay?"

Wally nods again, a soft "okay" leaving his lips as he nuzzles into his boyfriend's hands.

"Good boy." Dick holds Wally's head against his chest for a moment, petting his ginger locks as Wally gives a sweet kiss to his breast. Then, Dick is pulling away, ordering Wally to strip as he walks towards where Roy is still leaning up against the dresser, watching them with a look of fondness.

He greets Roy with a kiss that ends as quick as it started, then stands pressed up against him, wrapping an arm around Roy's waist as an arm twice the size of Dick's own is wrapping around his shoulder, the two leaning on one another. Roy has his phone out again before Dick even has to ask, but Wally is already out of his clothes by the time he presses record; no matter, more interesting things will be happening tonight.

"What should we have him do first, doll?" The question is directed towards Dick, and he hums at Roy's words.

"I wanna see how long he can touch himself without cumming." Dick pauses to gauge Wally's reaction, who's erect cock twitches at the words. "You think Jason will like that?

Roy nods, because Jason is into that (especially when Jason himself is the one not allowed to cum). "Jaybird will love it."

"You heard him, Walls, be a good boy and touch yourself for us. For Jay."

Wally does as told, hand taking hold of his cock, thumb swiping over the slit and rubbing pre over himself, beginning to jerk himself as he watches Dick and Roy watch him. Dicks fingers rub lazy circles around his clit through his boxers, though his eyes are trained on Wally, watching the way the speedster strokes himself. Roy isn't touching himself, but the towel is gone, polling around his feet on the floor, and his cock is erect, standing tall and curved slightly to the left. He presses hot kisses into the skin of Dicks neck, pausing occasionally to suck and bite until a red mark blossoms like roses in the spring, and when Wally looks at Roy, Roy looks right back instantly, staring into Wally's eyes despite his mouth being attached to their boyfriend's neck. Wally's cock twitches in his hand, more pre beading from the tip and spilling over, dribbling down his cock and over his hand.

When he looks back over to Dick, he has to squeeze the base of his shaft, because Dick's underwear have been pushed halfway down his thighs and he has three fingers inside his pussy, and when he pulls them out, they're covered in a sheen liquid, before he pushes them right back in, and then Roy is moving his hand from around Dicks shoulder and down his back, then to his ass, then between his legs; Dick moans as the tip of Roy's index finger enters his already full cunt, and Wally groans in response as he throws his free hand over his mouth to quiet himself, the scene, the sounds all too much-

Spurts of cum erupt from Wally's cock, coating his stomach and hand in milky white: the first of many orgasms this night.

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