#danger and dance.........clapping the hands..........

[bigblueworld]

boxer!rafe bets on if he wins a fight mma!reader goes on a date with him.... you do what you want with the ending and shit,,, i love the both of them saurrr much HAHDHAHSHAHS

oooo i love love love this idea!!

you had been training as per usual. dancing around your sparring partner exchanging light hits back and forth as sweat dripped.

your coach made suggestions as you sparred and once you and your sparring partner finished, you leaned down to collect your things. saying soft goodbyes to your sparring partner and your coach clapped his hand on your shoulder as he walked off.

rafe had just walked in, the bell on the top of the door jingled. your eyes flickered up and settled on rafe, and an exasperated sigh left your mouth.

“you gotta be fuckin’ kiddin me right now..” you muttered under your breath.

“heyy, sparky. how are you doin’ today?” rafe called out as he sauntered up to you, duffle bag slung over his shoulder with his regular stupid cocky grin plastered on his face.

“fine.”

he smirked, and looked you up and down. “you just get done sparring?”

“no. i just got done doin’ fuckin gymnastics..what the fuck do you think?” you said with a tilted head; sarcasm dripping maliciously through your words.

rafe laughed softly. “what are you doing here anyways..shouldn’t you be wrestling or whatever it is you do at your OWN training facilities?” you said as you sat back against the ropes.

“just wanted to visit..you know just, take a lil look around y’know.” rafe said with a slight shrug.

“yeah..sure rage.” you said with a scoff

rafe was leaned up against the outside of the ring, looking down at you as you grabbed your waterbottle and took a drink.

“you’re staring..”

“you wanna make a bet?”

“uhh what now?” you said with furrowed eyebrows as stood up and leaned your forearms against the ropes.

“i have a little..bet in mind. you wanna partake?” rafe said he looked up at you with a tilted head.

“sure. why the fuck not.” you said with a soft shrug as you began to put your gloves back on

rafe’s knuckles were already wrapped and you lifted the ropes for him to step through. he stood up to his full height and shrugged off his hoodie.

you sized him up and down; you watched as his biceps flexed and his black compression shirt stretched across his well muscled chest.

he smirked as he watched you eye him up. “i know, i like the black to. you want me to get you one so we could match.”

“shut up. okay so what’s the bet?” you said as you stood back with a respectable amount of space between you two.

“if i win, you go on a date with me.”

you rose your eyebrows in surprise and huffed out a laugh. “that’s funny…wait, you’re being serious?”

“yes. if i win, i take you out.”

“fine.”

he smiled, “alright let’s do this. we’ll do boxing rules, and not mma rules to make it fair.”

you nodded and rolled your shoulders back. “don’t get all pissy when you lose, “heavy hands”.”

he laughed, “you know my ring name?”

you rolled your eyes, “i did some research last time you decided you wanted to use your lil’ fuckin tricks on me.”

“you’re still not over that?”

“no.”

“alright, well we gonna fight or what?” he asked with a raised brow, his vibrant blue eyes studying your form.

you nodded and leant out your glove, and his glove met yours and the sparring commenced.

you guys traded shots at one another, your hits were strong and dangerous. rafe’s was meticulous and well placed, like he was trying to pick through your fighting style. he was quick and agile like most mma fighters were but you knew boxing. you bobbed and weaved around him.

it was like a dangerous dance of grace and power. sweat dripping down your bodies as sharp breaths escaped your lips. he hit you with a hard body-blow to the ribs and a sharp exhale left your lips as pain exploded throughout your side.

your nostrils flared and you aimed a powerful right hook near his head, which rafe dodged and you missed him by a hair.

“this is the last round, angry girl.”

you didn’t say anything but you guys kept fighting. your anger steadily growing, bubbling and boiling dangerously. your punches got stronger but rafe being in mma made him a difficult adversary.

—

the fight ended…rafe won. again. you were leaned up against the ropes; gloves off as you angrily glared at rafe. if looks could kill he would six feet under.

“so…you up for that date?” rafe said with that same cocky smile. drenched in sweat as he looked down at you.

“i lost so, yeah i guess i’ll go out with you.”

“dont be so angry darlin’” he said as he cocked his head to the side his eyes twinkled with amusement and he licked his lips.

“im not.” you said with a shrug as you bent down to collect your things.

you looked back at rafe as you threw on your crewneck over your head, still panting softly. “pick me up at 8 o’clock tomorrow, cameron. dont be late.”

he nodded “i would never.”

“mhm, see you tomorrow asshole.” and with that you walked out, a slight smile on your lips as you walked out to your car. rafe was beaming from inside the boxing club as he watched you leave.

“yes!” he said as pumped his fist in joy. rafe was going to make this date as memorable as he could, for you. it was like he couldn’t get enough of you. he wanted to get to know you aside from the anger that boiled beneath the surface, and the avoidance that you wore like a facade.

[myhobari]

- wayyy outta line.

miles caton x black reader

Summary - After a heated argument with Miles, you storm out, hit your girls up, and go out to the club—dressed up, feeling petty, and very much looking to get his attention. And, you do.

**warning** ⛔️ - SMUT (under 18 dni)

ANOOTHERR miles story. he’s just soooooooo… 😩

masterlist

————————————————————————

The argument had been sharp.

Very loud—very cold..

He said something that hit a little too close.

You clapped back with something you didn’t really mean.

And then you slammed the door on your way out.

Didn’t answer his texts. Didn’t look back.

Instead, you hit up the group chat:

“Y’all, we goin outside tonight.”

Now you’re in the middle of the club, hips moving to the beat, dress short, heels high, drink in hand. Sweaty. Petty. Gorgeous. Giggling like you didn’t leave a man seething on the couch just hours ago.

You post a story—just a quick little clip. Flash of your dress, a little twerk, a slow pan to your girls hyping you up while the bass rattles the floor.

You tag the location of the club.

You wanted him to see it.

Back at home, Miles is on the couch, jaw clenched. Phone in hand. Your story playing on loop.

His leg bounces.

His lips part.

His head tilts like is she fucking serious right now?

And then—he grabs his keys.

—

You don’t even see him when he first walks in. You’re too busy dancing, letting a stranger get a little too close behind you. His hands are respectful but bold, trailing your hips—and you let him.

Until you feel it.

That shift in the air.

A hand wraps gently—but firmly—around your wrist and spins you around.

It’s Miles.

And he’s not smiling.

“You wanna act out?” he murmurs, low and dangerous, voice barely rising above the music. “You wanna be seen? Heard? Cool. You got my attention now.”

Your breath catches.

He steps in, so close you can feel the heat rolling off his skin. His hand slides to your lower back, pulling you flush against him.

“You done?” he asks, gaze hard. “Or you wanna keep pretending like you don’t know who you belong to?”

Your pulse is racing.

He leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Let’s go. Now.”

You don’t argue.

You don’t even look back at your friends, who are definitely screaming behind their hands.

He grabs your hand and leads you through the crowd like he owns the room—like he owns you.

And when he helps you into the passenger seat, jaw tight, hands gripping the steering wheel?

Yeah.

You’re fucked.

——————————

The second the front door shuts behind you, the air shifts.

You kick your heels off without a word.

Miles tosses his keys on the counter a little too hard.

Silence.

Then—his voice, low and clipped:

“So that’s what we doing now?”

You turn to face him, arms crossed. “Doing what, Miles?”

He steps closer. “Going out to clubs dressed like that… letting dudes grab on you? Posting it like a damn highlight reel?”

You raise a brow, smug. “Hm. I don’t remember needing your permission.”

That sets him off.

He lets out a dry laugh, running a hand down his face. “You did that just to get back at me, huh?”

You don’t answer.

And that’s answer enough.

His jaw tightens. His voice drops.

“You mad at me, so you go let somebody else touch what’s mine?”

You scoff, stepping in close. “Oh, now I’m yours?”

His eyes flash.

He doesn’t say a word.

Just cups your face—gently, but with that heat behind it—and tilts your chin up.

“Say that again,” he breathes. “Say it like you mean it.”

Your lips part. “Yours?”

He nods once.

And then?

He kisses you.

Hard. Hot. Hungry. Like the argument never happened. Like all of that frustration, jealousy, and tension had only one place to go—your mouth.

His hands slide down your waist, gripping tight when he reaches your ass. Yours wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer like the silence between you snapped and left nothing but fire.

“You think you can run off and act reckless,” he murmurs against your neck, between kisses, “and I won’t remind you who you belong to?”

You gasp, your back hitting the hallway wall. “Maybe I forgot.”

He chuckles darkly, mouth trailing lower. “Then I guess I gotta remind you.”

He pulls your dress up, rushed. Like he’d lose you if he goes too slow.

You’re wearing his favorite pair.

He laughs.

“You knew I was gonna come for you, huh?”

You give him a shrug and a smile.

“Maybe.”

He shakes his head and moves your underwear to the side.

“You’re all wet for me already… look at you.”

He wastes no time and leans right in to kiss your pussy. Soft at first—almost reverent.

But it doesn’t stay gentle.

Not with how you gasp, thighs twitching in his hands.

Not with the way your hips arch toward his mouth like instinct.

His grip tightens, holding you in place as he looks up at you with heat in his eyes, voice rough:

“Say it again. That you knew I’d come for you.”

You can barely breathe, let alone speak.

But you nod, breath hitching. “I knew.”

That makes him groan low—pleased, possessive. He presses another kiss, then another, slower now, dragging it out, savoring the way you fall apart just for him.

“Good,” he murmurs against your skin. “Don’t ever doubt I will.”

He slides one finger in, slowly. Like he wants you to feel every crease. You hiss.

“You’re so tight.. I haven’t been fucking you enough huh? That’s why you acting out?”

“Mmmmh… feels so good Miles.”

“I know baby..”

He continues to pump his finger in and out, eventually adding another one.

“M’ so close…” you say softly.

“Let go for me beautiful.”

And when you do—when your body arches, trembling, warmth blooming from your core and spilling through every inch of you—he watches you with something close to awe.

Like you just proved a point he never had to argue.

You’re still catching your breath when he pulls back, eyes dark, chest heaving.

Then, without a word, he slips his arms under you—one behind your back, the other beneath your thighs—and lifts you like it’s effortless. You gasp, instinctively clutching his shoulders, and he smirks.

“I’m not done with you yet.” he murmurs against your ear, already walking.

Each step sends a jolt of heat through your body. His grip is firm, sure—like he knows exactly where he’s taking you, exactly what he’s about to do.

The hallway feels longer now. Lit low, quiet, thick with tension. He doesn’t rush. He lets the weight of the moment hang between you. His lips graze your collarbone. Your neck. Your jaw.

By the time he nudges the bedroom door open with his foot, you’re buzzing—body soft, head spinning, every nerve tuned to him.

He sets you down on the bed slow… too slow. Like he wants you to feel the shift, to know the second things change.

Then he hovers over you, gaze tracing every inch of your face. One hand glides up your thigh, dragging your dress higher again.

“You sure you can handle more?” he teases, voice like warm smoke.

You grin, eyes lazy with want. “Why don’t you test me?”

That’s all he needs.

He leans down, lips brushing your jaw as his fingers graze your waist.

“Lift your arms for me,” he says quietly—more of a command than an ask, and the thought makes your breath hitch.

You obey, slow and fluid, and he peels your dress off like he’s unwrapping something sacred. It hits the floor with a soft rustle, and his gaze drops—roaming, lingering.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, almost like it surprises him every time.

His hands slide up your sides, gentle but firm, trailing heat across your skin. When his thumbs brush the underside of your bra, he looks up.

“Can I?”

You nod, too breathless to speak.

He unclasp it with ease, watching the way your chest rises as the cool air hits your skin. Then he kisses your shoulder. Your collarbone. The center of your chest. Each kiss slower than the last.

“I missed you today,” he whispers. “Missed this. Missed you.”

“Missed you too Miles… m’ so sorry.”

Your fingers slip behind his head, pulling him closer. He hums low, lips finding the dip of your stomach as he makes his way down.

You shiver.

His hands are at the band of your underwear now, thumbs teasing beneath the lace.

“Still sure you can take more?”

You bite your lip. “I’m sure.”

His smile is slow. Dangerous. Sweet.

“Good.”

Then, he slips them down, eyes never leaving yours—because every part of this, every inch of you, is something he intends to worship.

The moment your underwear hits the floor, something shifts in him.

That soft Miles? The one who whispered and kissed slow?

Gone.

Now it’s all heat and hunger.

He crawls over you, slow enough to make your heart stutter—but there’s nothing gentle about the look in his eyes. It’s locked-in. Focused. Like he’s got one goal and it’s to ruin any memory that came before this one.

“You said you were sure,” he growls against your ear, voice thick with restraint. “So don’t you dare hold back on me now.”

You nod—barely—before his mouth crashes against yours, all tongue and teeth, all that pent-up frustration pouring out into the kiss. His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, spreading your thighs, pinning your wrists to the sheets.

At some point in your exchange, Miles pulled his pants and underwear down in a swift motion.

It’s fast, but it’s precise.

He’s not fumbling.

He knows your body. Knows what makes you whimper, what makes your back arch, what has you whispering his name like a prayer.

“You drive me crazy,” he grits out as he sinks into you, deeper than before, voice low and wrecked. “Walking around in that little ass dress… knowing exactly what you doing.”

You moan—high and breathless—and that only makes him go harder, one hand slipping beneath your thigh to pull you in closer, deeper.

Your eyes flutter, body trembling beneath him, and he leans in, lips brushing your ear again.

“Let me hear it, baby. Don’t hide from me now.”

And you don’t.

You give him everything—every cry, every curse, every ragged breath. And he takes it like a man starved.

“I can feel you clenching around me.”

“Are you close?”

You nod frantically, the tension in your body coiled so tight it’s almost unbearable. Your nails dig into his back. Your legs lock tighter around his waist. Every thrust has your body bucking up to meet him, chasing that last wave.

“Miles…” you whimper, voice cracking under the weight of it. “I—I can’t hold it—”

His grip on your hip tightens. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t ease off. If anything, he moves faster—deeper—like he’s determined to pull it out of you.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let it go, baby. Don’t fight it.”

And when it hits—it hits hard.

Your body arches, mouth falling open, a choked moan escaping as your whole world tilts. It’s heat, pressure, release—everything crashing into you at once. You tremble beneath him, wrapped in aftershocks, every nerve alive and thrumming.

He slows, watching you ride it out, his own breathing ragged, eyes dark with awe.

You’re still panting, chest rising and falling fast, when he leans in and kisses your jaw, your lips, your temple.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum,” he whispers.

And the way he says it?

Like he’s ruined for anyone else.

You’re still trembling when he looks down at you—eyes wild, chest rising like he’s holding back a storm.

“God…” he mutters, voice tight. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

You’re still fluttering around him, soft and warm and soaking, and it’s too much.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, hand sliding up his chest and up to his neck, holding there. “Cum for me, Miles.”

That does it.

His jaw clenches. His hips stutter—once, twice—and then he groans, deep and wrecked, forehead pressing to yours like he needs to stay grounded.

And then—

He lets go.

Hot, raw, full-body release—buried deep, his breath catching in your ear as he finishes with your name slipping from his lips like a secret.

You feel it—every shiver, every beat of his heart against yours as his body collapses over you, careful but heavy, spent.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. Just your breathing. Your hands sliding across his damp skin. His lips pressing lazy kisses to your collarbone.

He lifts his head, eyes a little dazed, still catching up to what just happened.

“You always gotta do me like that?” he murmurs, smiling against your skin.

You smirk. “Maybe.”

He laughs softly, kisses you again, and doesn’t let go.

Not for a while.

————————————————————————

let me know if you enjoyed this one.. and if you have any fantasies that you want written out, pour it into my requests :)

muah 💋

[sproutlines]

EVERYBODY MOOOOOOOOOOVEment

I can't stop listening someone help

[mirensiart]

I know everyone has moved on, but "life it never die, women are my favorite guy" still plays on a loop in my brain 24/7 cause like, damn, women truly are my favorite guy

[kelvingemstone]

no other song is as satisfying to me as that thirty second snippet from planet of the bass my playlists have been rejected in favour of voracious lust for the other one minute of that siren song

[thanksgiving-isnt-ur-fav-holiday]

not enough love for biljana electronica for my taste

[flipp-ppilf]

ALL OF THE DREAM... ...HOW DOES IT MEAN?

if anyone is interested in commissions with this art style, message me or check out this carrd! -> https://flip-pilf-comms.carrd.co

[zyrinneedssleep]

GUYS ITS PLANET OF THE BASS DAY

[autism-kun]

anyone else out in the space on the planet of the bass rn???

[globcomics]

⭑✦✨ ALL OF THE DREAM✨ ✦⭑ ¿｡° ⁉️ HOW DOES IT MEAN ⁉️ °｡¿ ⚠️💃 DANGER & DANCE 💃⚠️

[stegogosaurus]

me wistfully after seeing the weeniest lump of grass peeking through the crack in the concrete: life it never die

[littlematchagirlll]

women are my favorite guy

[shinji-hibiki]

wait i just realized i never actually posted planet of the bass anywhere because i havent strung together a video yet. um ill post it here tomorrow :3

[wrdn-tabris]

i have the most annoying ear worm rn

[psychedelic-charm]

Here it is! The official "Planet of the Bass" music video!

[townslice]

🎶Danger and dance!🎶