WWE Smut One Shots

Brock Lesnar (1, Part 2 of 2)

In total there were seventeen photos; all featuring yourself and Brock Lesnar in your hotel bed, tangled in sheets and each other's limbs while staring into the camera with devious looks.

Joe's segment with Brock would no doubt become a blood bath once he got into the ring. Maybe he would demand answers from Brock before fists start flying? Nah, Joe is more a 'punch first, ask later' type of guy. Your thoughts paused as Joe's music blasted through the speakers of the television in front of you. The look on Joe's face could have vaporized anyone that looked back.

He slipped into the ring and walked past Brock, demanding a microphone from the time keeper's area. Once he was given it, he proceeded to pace back and forth, waving a finger at Brock.

"You're something else, you know that Lesnar?" Joe said. "I mean I knew you were pathetic, but to stoop so low to get to me... I don't know why I'm this surprised."

Paul stepped forward. "Pardon my asking, but would you care to elaborate for us?"

Joe spat in great distaste. "Elaborate for you? ELABORATE THIS FOR ME!"

The camera turned to Joe's phone and your heart dropped as the camera man tried to peak at what was on the screen. You dashed out the locker room to the entrance by the ramp, where you sped your way into the ring as Paul scrolled through the photos.

The arena cheered at your appearance, causing Joe, Paul and Brock to look down as you made your way into the ring.

"Well look who it is..." Joe sneered. "Where the hell have you been?"

You pressed your lips together as you moved to stand between the men.

Joe grabbed your arm and forcefully tugged you to his side. "Hey! Don't walk away from me you little bitch. You've got some explaining to do."

To your surprise, Brock grabbed your other arm, shoving Joe away and gently tugging you behind him. Clutching the back of his tank top, you peered around Brock's thick bicep and stared at your brother.

You reached a hand back, gesturing for Paul to give you his microphone, and he does. "L-Look, Joe... I know you're a little mad right now but-"

"Mad? Mad?! Oh (Y/N), I'm not mad. I'M FUCKING FURIOUS!"

"There are kids in the arena!" You shouted.

"I don't give a fuck! You slept with Brock Lesnar and you think I can keep my voice LOW?! ARE YOU SHITTING ME?!"

You took a step forward. "You know what? I guess I am! What do you care if I hooked up with Brock? Unlike you, he actually gives a damn about women! You're my brother but you treat me like I'm your goddamned slave! I've put up with your crap for years yet you want Paul Heyman to represent you instead of me? I'm your sister! I'm your own flesh and blood!"

Joe clicked his tongue and looked off to the side. "Doesn't matter if you are. I lost whatever respect I had for you when I saw those pictures."

"Guess what buddy, I don't care if you did, because I wanted you to see them. I figured it would mess with your psyche and make you lose your shit. You deserve to have your mind wrecked for all the bull crap you give to everyone. Dammit Joe my brother but you treat me like some lackey, and I'm done with it. Samoa Joe... you can go FUCK YOURSELF!" You slammed the microphone into his chest and tugged Brock down for a passionate kiss.

The crowd lost their shit and cheered as you locked lips with the Beast Incarnate. You dragged your right hand nails across the back of his head and wrapped your left arm around his shoulders. In turn, Brock wrapped his left arm around your waist and used his right hand to grip your hair as he tied his tongue with yours.