⌗ summary: It started out as a joke, but didn't end that way. word count is 4.8k
⌗ warnings: cheerleader/football team roleplay, smut, p in v, creampie, sixsome, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise
⌗ a/n: hey! this idea is from someone in my inbox, hope you like it!
You weren’t sure whose idea it was.
Maybe it started as a joke—just another afternoon with the Hanks spiraling into barely contained chaos. Someone had found an old football helmet in your closet, someone else got snacks and Gatorade, and next thing you knew, jerseys were being passed around like party favors, and someone, likely Hank 3, said, “We should do a whole-ass championship.”
And for reasons beyond understanding, you didn’t say no.
So now you were here: sitting pretty in a makeshift cheer outfit, legs curled beneath you on a threadbare picnic blanket in the backyard, watching five grown men tackle each other in what seemed to be the worst football game ever played..
The sun was low. The sky streaked with pink-orange gold.
And you were the only thing on the sidelines worth winning for.
“House Homie!” Hank 1 shouted, grinning as he caught a wobbly pass and spun in place like he’d just made the game-winning play. “That one was for you, baby!”
You clapped cheerfully with a smile. “Are you sure you guys even know the rules?”
“Football’s about heart,” Hank 1 fired back, hand on his chest like he was about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. “And passion. And body slams.”
“Ya, we’re fine,” Hank 5 said gently, adjusting Hank 4’s shoulder pads while still glancing your way every few seconds. “Let’s just focus, okay? One more play, one more touchdown, and we get the win.”
“I-if we win, we, uh,” Hank 2 stumbled slightly, looking down at his sneakers, “we get the prize, right?”
You blinked. “The prize?”
You’d said it once, maybe. Offhand. A little promise in the middle of the game to get them fired up—“Maybe there’s a little something waiting if you win.”
“Uh, yeah,” Hank 3 said quickly, leaning into it, lips curling in a smirk. “The ultimate prize. Our cheerleader.”
“You guys are really into this whole football fantasy, huh?”
“I—it’s not just a fantasy,” Hank 5 said, stepping forward with quiet conviction. “We’re the dream team, and you’re our biggest fan! Well, our only fan, probably.”
You tilted your head, fingers toying with the hem of your tiny cheer skirt. “Hm… What’s the scoreboard say?”
Hank 4 turned around. “Uhh, I drew it in the dirt with a stick. It says we won!”
“I think it just says HANKS RULE,” Hank 2 pointed out.
“Same thing,” Hank 1 shrugged.
You could play dumb. Could draw it out even longer. But the way they were looking at you—like you were the goal, wrapped in a skirt and pom-poms—it was enough to make your pulse throb in your throat.
“I dunno,” you teased, voice sweet, fingers twirling a lock of your hair between them. “You guys think you earned a prize like that?”
“Come on now,” Hank 1 growled in your ear, his jersey pulled halfway up his sculpted torso, sweat still glistening across his chest from the “game.” His fingers flexed on your hips like he was holding back from just tackling you right there. “You gonna keep starin’ or are you gonna congratulate your MVPs?”
“Yeah, c’mon, baby,” Hank 3 piped up beside him, grinning with his tongue caught between his teeth. He leaned in closer, brushing his lips along your neck while whispering, “We won for you. Don’t you wanna show us how proud you are?”
Behind them, Hank 4 stood with his jersey on backward, helmet still on like he forgot it was even there. “We got a hundred touchdowns!” he shouted, clearly making the number up. “Is that like… a world record or something?”
“I think so,” Hank 2 murmured proudly, watching you with wide, flushed cheeks as his fingers fidgeted with the hem of your short top. “You were cheering for us so hard out there. I—I couldn’t stop looking…”
“You’re like our lucky charm,” Hank 5 said, eyes dreamy and devoted. He held your hands in both of his, lifting one to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “You got all pretty and dolled up just for us, babe? Those ribbons, your hair, that skirt.” He bit his lip softly. “You look like a dream.”
You smiled bashfully, “Well yeah… Um, what do you guys think?”
“Jesus, babe,” Hank 3 groaned. “You don’t even know what you did to us out there.” He stepped in close, running both hands down your arms in a slow, wandering glide—like he was too overwhelmed to pick a spot and had to touch everything at once.
“Bouncin’ around with those pom-poms? In that skirt?” He blinked hard, like the memory was physically stunning. “You were rooting for us so hard, and fuck. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life, babe.”
His fingers slipped into one of the satin ribbons in your hair, tugging it gently, lips parted in awe. “And these? You knew what you were doing, huh?”
“I like those ribbons too, real spirited,” Hank 1 added from behind you. One of his strong arms wrapped around your waist, palm spreading across your stomach, warm and sure. “But babe, that skirt—you were driving us fuckin’ crazy.” He leaned in close, voice lowering. “I almost tripped over my own feet just tryin’ to look at you.”
“I mean…” Hank 4 sighed dreamily, tapping a pom-pom where it dangled from your wrist. “Look at her. She’s so cute I feel like I’m gonna faint, brah.”
“She’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Hank 2 blurted, wide-eyed and sincere, practically vibrating. “How did we get so lucky, bros?”
You giggled breathlessly, heart skipping as their eyes dragged over you. “Ha…Oh, you guys..”
They had you surrounded now, pressing in close, jerseys brushing against your skin, the scent of sweat and cologne filling your lungs. It was getting hard to tell whose hands were where.
“Think you’re ready, baby?” Hank 1 asked, cocking his head as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “Wanna take all five at once?”
Hank 3 chuckled, clearly about to say something worse, but Hank 2 elbowed him before he could. “Guys—wait,” Hank 2 said, breathing a little fast, “shouldn’t we, um, maybe… take her somewhere first? She deserves, like, a real ceremony. Right bros?”
“Ooh,” Hank 4 gasped, clapping his hands. “Award ceremony!! Yeah!!” He exclaimed, taking off his helmet and awkwardly tossing it on the ground.
Hank 5 tucked his face into your neck, voice close to your ear. “Can we… take you to the locker room, babe? You’ve got no idea how bad we’ve been aching.”
The words sent heat shooting through your stomach. Their hands were still everywhere, trailing along your thighs, brushing up under your skirt, fingers tangled in your cheer ribbons. And behind all the jokes and heat, there was this genuine eagerness—this open adoration.
“You coming with us?” Hank 3 echoed, tilting your chin up with a smirk. “Or are we gonna have to carry you?”
“Oh, she’s not walkin’ anywhere,” Hank 1 said with a grin, crouching down and scooping you into his arms like it was nothing. “She’s got weak knees after watchin’ us win.”
You giggled, wrapping your arms looped around Hank 1’s neck as he carried you toward the bedroom—the “locker room,” as they were all insisting now.
Hank 2 followed behind more cautiously, cheeks still pink as he watched you carefully. “You okay? We’re not goin’ too fast, are we?”
“I mean,” Hank 5 said quietly as he closed the bedroom door behind him. “She did say we were her favorite team…”
You nodded, cheeks flushed, “Yeah, you guys are the best team ever.”
Hank 1 set you down on the bed, slow and dramatic, treating you like the trophy they’d earned. The second you hit the sheets, five pairs of hands were on you—teasing, touching, undoing your uniform piece by piece.
“You wore our colors,” Hank 3 groaned, slowly pulling off your skirt. “You’re just askin’ to get tackled.”
“She’s askin’ for a celebration,” Hank 5 corrected, pulling your leg gently over his shoulder so he could kiss along your inner thigh, making you shudder. “Let’s make it one she’ll remember.”
Hank 4 leaned over you, warm hands splaying over your hips as he pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses to your skin. Hank 2 was clumsily pulling off his jersey, cheeks pink and eyes locked to yours like he didn’t want to miss a single second. Hank 1 and 3 bracketing you on either side like guards, already whispering filthy plays in your ears.
And through it all, they never dropped the act.
“That uniform’s gonna get flagged for excessive temptation,” Hank 1 muttered, dragging your cheer top over your head. “Unsportsmanlike conduct, or something.”
“You can’t work us up like that and expect to stay on the sidelines, babe,” Hank 3 added, breath hot as he peeled your panties down as if they were just one more piece of your game-day uniform. “You knew we were gonna swarm you.”
Your whole body flushed—you were squirming, body shifting, thighs pressing together with a helpless whimper that made all five of them lean in closer.
Hank 1 went first, obviously.
He laid you back and found himself between your legs, hands planted on either side of your shoulders, panting softly as he lined himself up.
“This is it,” he said lowly. “You ready for your touchdown, baby?”
You didn’t have time to answer.
Hank 1 didn’t just take you—he claimed you. He held your thighs wide with both hands, rough palms gripping just hard enough to leave finger-shaped pressure behind. “Don’t squirm, babe,” he murmured, voice thick. “I’m tryin’ to savor my win.”
He wasn’t fast. He sank into you slow, savoring every hot inch of you stretching around him while the rest of the team watched from all sides.
“Fuuuck,” Hank 2 breathed from the side of the bed, one hand shoved down his pants as he watched with wide eyes. “She’s takin’ him so good, bros…”
Hank 3 was at the foot of the bed, on his knees, panting like he was the one getting fucked. He watched every motion of Hank 1’s hips like it was a play he’d have to run next.
“Dude,” he whined, palming himself through his jockstrap. “I can’t fuckin’ wait. She’s—oh my god, she’s squeezin’ you so tight—”
“She’s warm,” Hank 1 grunted, dragging his hips back and thrusting in again, deeper this time. “So wet for us already. And we just got here.”
Next to you, Hank 4 was sprawled out flat on his stomach, chin propped up on his hands like he was watching his favorite movie. His jersey had ridden up just enough to show a hint of his tanned, sculpted back, and his socked feet kicked in the air behind him. He gazed at you with a starry look in his eyes, cheeks flushed and lips parted in a smile.
“Can’t believe this is real,” he said dreamily. “She’s like… the prize and the halftime show and the team mascot all in one.”
“She’s not a mascot, bro,” Hank 5 said softly, kneeling beside the bed and stroking your cheek with one hand. “She’s like, our captain.”
He leaned down, brushing a slow kiss across your jaw as Hank 1 thrust into you harder, groaning as your back arched off the bed with a whimper.
“Look at you,” Hank 5 whispered. “So brave. So good. You’re takin’ it like a champ, babe.”
“Dudes, she’s gonna break,” Hank 3 whined, jerking himself harder now. “She’s gonna be all numb before it’s even my turn—”
“I hope she is bro,” Hank 1 growled, picking up the pace now. “I want her fucked dumb before I pass her off.”
Your thighs shook. Every thrust knocked you further into the mattress. And all around you, they were getting off just watching—moaning, begging, gasping as Hank 1 drove into you rougher, deeper, the sound of skin on skin echoing throughout the room.
“She’s doin’ so good for us,” Hank 2 whispered, getting close now as he knelt near the headboard, cheeks flushed red. “Gonna take all of us like this?”
You tried to answer, but it came out as a broken moan—and they lost it.
“Yeah, she is,” Hank 1 said, fucking into you harder, his rhythm going ragged now. “Look at her, homies. Look at how she begs.”
“I can’t look,” Hank 3 gasped, shuddering as he rutted into his fist. “I’m gonna blow just from watching—fuck—fuck.”
“Hold it, dude!” Hank 4 yelled. “We’re goin’ in order, remember?”
“I’m trying!” Hank 3 cried, rocking back on his heels, flushed and shaking.
And you—fucked open, surrounded by love-drunk himbos, overwhelmed by praise and heat and voices—could only moan out their name. You weren’t even sure what was holding you up anymore.
“Fuck, House homie…” Hank 1 moaned, pushing in deep and holding. “So good…”
You could feel the way he trembled behind you, breath ragged, voice cracking as his hips twitched once—twice—and then stilled with a broken groan.
“Fuck—babe,” he choked, arms tightening around your waist like he was trying to anchor himself to you. “You’re just so—so warm, I couldn’t—” His voice dissolved into a soft, needy sound as he came, buried to the hilt, filling you with heat.
You whimpered, completely limp in his grasp, chest heaving, brain melting under the weight of it—his praise, the stretch, the pulse of him throbbing inside you.
And the others were still watching. Still waiting.
You could still feel Hank 1’s grip fading from your hips, his breath cooling on your skin, when another set of hands touched you—softer this time, tentative.
“…Are you ready, babe?” Hank 2 asked, voice low and a little shaky, as if even asking made his heart race. His face was pink, brow damp from sweat that probably wasn’t just from the game. His jersey was still on, clinging to his chest like he didn’t even notice, and when he nudged your thighs apart with his knee, he looked like he could hardly believe this was happening.
You nodded—dazed, still breathless—and he smiled.
“I’ve been thinking about this forever…” he mumbled, lining himself up like it took every ounce of courage in his body.
The others watched, not even trying to hide it. Hank 3 had his hand on himself still, eyes glued to your face like he was drinking in every reaction with a greedy kind of hunger. Hank 4 panted in the background, and Hank 5 was rubbing your calf like he couldn’t wait to touch you properly.
Hank 2 pushed inside you with a sharp breath, his forehead pressing against yours.
“God—you feel… you feel so good,” he whispered. “Better than I imagined. Way better. Way better—”
He thrust into you in slow, unsure strokes at first— gasping softly with every movement. You could hear the slick sounds echoing through the “locker room,” the soft curses from Hank 3 as he watched, panting, his hips jerking into his hand with messy need.”
You tightened around Hank 2 with a whimper, your body already trembling from how deep he reached, how sweetly he gasped every time he bottomed out. His pace only made it worse—you were already so sensitive, so stretched and aching and close—and the way he looked at you like he couldn’t believe he was really inside made your whole body heat up.
“Please don’t stop,” you whispered, voice shaking. “Hank—I’m gonna—”
Your climax hit with a cry, your walls clenching hard around him as you came, slick gushing down to coat both of you in a hot, desperate wave. You felt your thighs tremble, your hands clawing at his shoulders for something to hold onto as your body pulsed tight around his cock—milking him, dragging him down with you.
“Oh fuck,” Hank 2 gasped when you clenched around him with a whine. “I—I’m not gonna last—I don’t—”
You tightened again, just to watch him fall apart.
He whined, full and high in his throat, fingers gripping your hips tight like you were the only thing keeping him anchored. He came with a choked gasp, his body collapsing over yours.
You smiled at Hank 2’s desperate form on top of you, but before you could catch your breath—
“Yeah! My turn,” Hank 3 said, already climbing onto the bed with that flushed smirk and his jersey halfway off.
You weren’t sure when he’d finished watching, but the way his cock was still rock-hard told you he wasn’t done by far.
“Hey, babe,” Hank 3 purred, crouched on his knees beside you with a grin and eyes full of fire. “That was real sweet to watch, but I think it’s my time to score.”
He kissed you messily—no warning, no slow buildup, just heat and tongue and a cocky moan when you kissed him back just as hungrily. His lips were softer than expected, but his hand was already sneaking down between your legs like he couldn’t stand another second without touching you.
Hank 4 sat beside you, wide-eyed and already hard, his tongue poking out as he stared like he was watching his favorite part of the game. Hank 1 stayed at the foot of the bed, arms crossed like he was trying to play it cool, but the twitch of his hips said otherwise. And Hank 2, still dazed, stayed pressed against your side, flushed and trembling but watching—like he couldn’t look away. You felt their eyes on you, the heat of them, as Hank 3 leaned in with that look that said he already knew that you were ready. Hank 5’s gaze was low and dreamy, but there was nothing innocent about the way he palmed himself through his pants, watching every one of your reactions like they were sacred.
“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” Hank 3 whispered as he lined himself up, glancing over his shoulder at the others with a cocky little smirk. “Don’t worry—they’ll get their turns. But right now…”
He pushed into you with one slow, deliberate thrust. You gasped the moment he entered—your body jolting, still sore and soaked from everything before. It was too much—too deep, too slow, too thick—and your walls fluttered around him without mercy, every inch dragging over hypersensitive nerves. A soft, broken whine slipped from your lips, your hands twisting in the sheets as your body trembled under him. “T-too much,” you whispered, but he just held your hips still, green eyes locked on yours like he wanted to watch you fall apart.
“Fffuck—yeah, that’s it—look at me while I’m inside you, yeah?” He groaned.
His pace started fast—like he was showing off for the audience. One hand gripped your thigh, the other slid up your body to cup your breast and tweak your nipple, and all the while his mouth stayed close to your ear, whispering praise and filth in the same breath.
“God, you’re so hot like this. Letting the whole team watch you get ruined—lettin’ us take turns like good little players. Makin’ me feel like a damn MVP.”
The sound of skin slapping echoed loud against the backdrop of the others’ breathing. Hank 1’s hand was fisting his cock again like he couldn’t help it. Hank 4 looked dazed, cursing under his breath and panting, eyes glassy with lust. Hank 5 moaned soft, low in his throat, fingers tracing the veins in his own shaft with almost reverent slowness.
Hank 3 rocked his hips faster—harder now, sloppier—his forehead pressed against yours as he rutted deep and fast, breath shuddering.
“Can’t believe how tight you still are—you’re gonna make me cum, fuck!”
You were babbling, too cockdrunk to stop—whining under your breath, body trembling as he fucked you through the overstimulation. When he came with a deep groan, thrusting hard and staying there, you gasped—felt the heat flood your insides, dripping around him, making you clench down even tighter.
“Yeah, that’s it,” He panted, voice low. “Take it—just like that. God, you’re perfect like this… stuffed full and still shaking.” You moaned, hips twitching under his grip, eyes glassy and unfocused. Your body was wrecked, soaked, needy—and all you could do was moan his name, over and over like it was the only thing keeping you conscious.
And then, without missing a beat…
“Oh man it’s me now right??” Hank 4 blurted, already shimmying out of his pants and scooting close. “I been waitin’ forever. You looked so good gettin’ fucked, baby, I gotta try it next!”
He chuckled as he crawled over you—grinning wide, eyes sparkling, cock hard and bobbing—and the others only groaned in anticipation. Heleaned down to pepper kisses across your cheeks, your jaw, your lips. “You okay? You still good? You looked so cute when Hank 3 was making you squeak like that…”
You tried to respond—tried to say yes, or please, or even just more, but it came out as a moan, wrecked and breathless. You were already soaked again, throbbing, your body hot and trembling, skin flushed and sticky with sweat. Your mouth hung open as he settled between your thighs, cock brushing against your entrance, and every little movement sent a jolt of heat through your core.
“Shit,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I—I can’t even think…”
“Aww,” Hank 4 cooed, petting your hair back, gaze dazed and adoring. “That’s okay, you don’t gotta think, baby. We never do! Just feel it, that’s all you gotta do.”
And then he pushed in—fast.
You cried out, arching beneath him, nails digging into the sheets. You were so wet he slid in easily, but the stretch still made your thighs shake, especially after being filled so many times already. You gasped again, a soft, strangled sound, and he giggled at the noise like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.
“Oh my god,” he breathed, hips starting to thrust clumsily but fast, already obsessed with the way your walls squeezed around him. “You’re so—so warm in here. You makin’ all those little noises just for me?”
“Ah—Hank—” Your voice cracked again, and you had to grip his shoulders to stay grounded as he picked up speed. “Too—too fast, slow down—”
He immediately paused. “Oh—oh no, was that too much? Sorry, I got excited! I’ll go slower, I promise—I just—you’re so hot like this, I couldn’t not.”
He kept his word. His rhythm softened, but the thrusts stayed deep, steady, and he panted like he was trying his best not to lose it too fast.
Behind him, the others kept watching, closer now.
Hank 3 was rubbing his slick, still-hard cock as he knelt beside your head, watching your tits bounce with every thrust. “God, you’re so pretty like this,” he groaned. “You keep makin’ those sweet little whimpers—you wanna let her suck me off while you’re doin’ your thing, bro?”
“Uh—sure!!” Hank 4 answered with a grin, never missing a stroke. “If she wants! Do you want to, babe?”
You nodded desperately, eyes glassy. “P-put it in my mouth—please—”
Hank 3 didn’t need more convincing.
You opened up, already babbling around the thick weight of him on your tongue, the messy, wet sounds of your moaning mouth mixing with the slap of Hank 4’s hips against yours. You couldn’t stop the choked sob that spilled out, your body trembling from how full you were, how used you felt. The stretch, the pressure, the heat—it was dizzying.
“God damn,” Hank 1 muttered somewhere off to your right. “Takin’ two of us at once like that? She’s a fuckin’champ.”
“She’s our cheer champ,” Hank 2 whispered hoarsely, stroking himself again as he leaned on the bed’s edge. “Doing s-so good for us…”
Hank 4 kept moaning, rocking his hips. “Y-you feel so good, I think I’m gonna—I think I’m gonna—!”
He came deep, face scrunched up in bliss, cock pulsing inside you while your mouth stayed stretched around Hank 3. He gasped through it, panting out something that sounded like your name, collapsing forward and letting out a giddy, breathless laugh.
“Ohh… Finally, babe,” Hank 5 murmured, low and intense from where he’d been waiting his turn with that same, soft-eyed focus. “You ready for me, sweet girl?”
He stepped closer, already peeling his jersey up over his head, his gaze never leaving your face as Hank 3 pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop and a sigh.
“You've been so good for us,” Hank 5 whispered. “Let me make you feel real good now.”
Hank 5 settled between your thighs slowly, his hands warm and sure as they ran up your sides, over your stomach, to cradle your face gently.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered, voice low and husky, barely audible over the breathless rustling of the other Hanks shifting and stroking around you. “You’ve been so good… You need a break?”
You shook your head, eyes half lidded, tears clinging to your lashes. “Want you,” you whispered. “Want you, Hank—please—”
His breath caught. “Oh baby,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your cheek, your forehead, your lips. “You got me. You got all of me.”
He lined up, carefully, and slid into you with a low groan—so deep, thick and stretching and perfect, making your whole body tremble. You clenched around him hard, and the sound he made—a whimper, soft and desperate—sent heat straight to your core.
You sobbed out his name, overwhelmed already. “S’too much—feels so good—I c-can’t—”
“You can,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours. “You will. Let go for me, okay? Let it happen. Just let it—”
And he rocked his hips slow and deep, grinding in so good you felt like the air was knocked from your lungs.
Every thrust hit your sweet spot dead-on, his hips moving with aching precision—not too rough, not too fast, just intentional, like he knew exactly how to unravel you. And with all the other Hanks moaning and watching, their hands stroking their cocks while they whispered filthy praise—look at her shake, she’s so messy, fuck, she’s clenching around him like crazy—you didn’t stand a chance.
Your orgasm hit like a wave. Your whole body locked up, legs shaking, tears spilling over as you cried out.
“Fuck—fuck, that’s it—that’s it,” Hank 5 groaned, his voice trembling with emotion. “You look so pretty like this, baby—look at you, makin’ a mess for me…”
You gasped for air, but it wasn’t over. He kept moving, chasing his own end now, thrusts faster, deeper, as his voice dropped to a thick whisper against your skin.
“You gonna give me one more?” he asked, needy and reverent. “One more—just one more, I know you can. Let me feel you come again. Wanna feel you fall apart while I fill you up…”
You nodded, moaning so loud you startled even yourself. You clung to him, shaking, thighs twitching from how sensitive you were—but he knew just how to fuck you through it, just how to kiss your lips and murmur your name and keep going until—
Back arched, mouth open in a moan, whole body trembling as you came hard around him—harder than before, your nails digging into his back as your cunt clenched again and again and again. You sobbed his name, babbling broken praise, and Hank 5 fell apart with you.
“Oh baby—baby—fuck—” he gasped, thrusts stuttering as he spilled inside you, cock twitching deep, face buried in your neck. “So good—you’re so good— love you, love you—”
And around you, the others broke.
Hank 1 came first, hand tight around his cock, groaning loud as he spilled onto your stomach, breath ragged.“Came watching you come—jesus, babe—fuckin’ love you—”
Hank 2 bit his lip and cried out as he followed, painting your thigh, his eyes locked on yours like he couldn’t believe what he was watching. “You’re perfect, fuck—”
Hank 3 was already on edge—he moaned loud and needy, one hand fisting the sheets as he jerked himself through it. “She’s so fuckin’ hot like this…”
And Hank 4—sweet, messy Hank 4—let out a soft little groan, cock twitching in his hand as he came again, overwhelmed by how beautiful you looked pinned beneath Hank 5. “D-damn, I didn’t even mean to!”
By the time it was over, you were wrecked.
Stretched open and dripping, your body covered in their release, skin flushed and glistening, your chest heaving as Hank 5 held you close, kissed your temple, and whispered sweet little nothings while the others gathered around.
“Good job, House Homie,” Hank 1 whispered, voice warm and teasing. “You just took five touchdowns in a row.”
“Yeah,” Hank 3 added, breathless and giddy. “You win. You definitely win.”
