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pedropascallme · 4 months ago

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Makes Me Wanna Party

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: "You weren't trying to keep it quiet; word travelled fast amongst your friends, and anybody that didn't already know probably hadn't checked their texts all weekend. You figured that everybody would be keen to find out where they stood in the betting pool, what their winnings or losings would come out to."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) p in v sex, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), dom/sub dynamics, blink and you'll miss it sub!Damien softdom!Damien, choking, tiny bit of biting and spanking, creampie, silliness during sex because I said so and they're in love, if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: My friends...a third installment of ATAP has hit the pedropascallme blog. (part 1 | part 2)

"Pass me a sugar packet." You nudged Damien's side with your elbow as you stirred your tea.

"Magic word." He smiled down at you, teasing.

"Presto," you smirked up at him before you conceded. "Please will you hand me a sugar packet, Damien?"

He shook his head, still smiling, as he walked to the counter opposite you and handed you two sugar packets.

“Thank you.” You tore the packets open and poured them into the mug, continuing to stir.

"For you, Old Sport," he leaned down to kiss your temple, "Anything."

You rolled your eyes at the petname. It was dumb, in the best way. But you wouldn’t complain; it had clearly already stuck—and you enjoyed it.

The start of every work week was hectic; there was much pleasure taken in time off, yes, but the promise of coming back into the office to do god knows what with your friends always created a manic sort of energy.

Now, though, in the office kitchen with Damien, you felt nothing but relaxed.

After a weekend in bed with him, how could you not feel at ease in his presence?

Beyond the sex—and it was phenomenal sex—the casual air and the affection between the two of you had always served to make you feel tranquil. Now, it was all the better, because you could squeeze his hand in yours, and get a kiss in response.

You weren't trying to keep it quiet; word travelled fast amongst your friends, and anybody that didn't already know probably hadn't checked their texts all weekend. You figured that everybody would be keen to find out where they stood in the betting pool, what their winnings or losings would come out to.

Plus, you were happy. And why should you and Damien hide your mutual contentment?

"I have to be on the games stage in ten minutes." Damien muttered, trailing his fingertips over your arm absentmindedly, eyes fixed to his mug on the counter as steam curled up from his coffee.

"You on the call sheet for try not to laugh later?" You turned to face him, resting your elbow on the countertop of the island.

"Yeah," he nodded, pausing to look at you and huffing a quiet laugh. "Didn't really have time to prepare for it this weekend, though."

"Oh?" You smiled, "Got up to some pretty wild stuff, huh?"

"Wild, sure," he smirked, leaning in ever so slightly for emphasis, "Definitely very pretty, though."

You grew flustered, your taunt backfiring on you to make you blush under his gaze.

"You." Angela's voice echoed around the kitchen, and you turned to see her standing in the entryway with Chanse close behind, pointing her finger at you.

"Oh, look at that," Damien pursed his lips in an attempt to hide his smile, "I'm needed on set."

You laughed, watching as Angela, still pointing at you, bypassed Damien with a playful glare to march up to you. Chanse followed close behind with a sigh.

"You." She repeated, now clearly trying not to smile.

"Me?" You feigned ignorance.

"I want to know everything." She lowered her hand to grab your forearm, giddy with the prospect of finding out every detail.

"I wish you were this interested in every part of my life." You smiled, tugging at her arm playfully.

"Tell me tell me tell me—" Angela begged, swaying your arm with hers before dropping her hand lower to entwine her fingers with her own.

"Courtney gave us, like, all the information," Chanse finally spoke up, reaching for a coffee mug and picking out a k-cup. "Angela's just nosy. Not to mention twenty dollars poorer."

"Shut up," Angela shot back at Chanse before refocusing her attention on you. "I just wanna hear your perspective."

You heard Amanda's voice down the hall, and you raised a hand to stall for time until she walked into the kitchen.

"Hi—woah, party in here." Amanda greeted the three of you with a laugh.

"She's being stingy with details." Angela huffed in place of a real greeting.

"What details?" Amanda blanked.

“This weekend.” Angela pouted.

Amanda squinted in confusion.

"Do you not know?" Angela's eyes went wide, "Did nobody tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Amanda knitted her brow, confused.

"Damien—" Angela started.

"Got a new tattoo, I know." Amanda cut her off, defensive.

"Amanda..." Chanse sighed, lifting the freshly made mug of coffee to his lips and blowing.

"What?" She grew impatient, eager for somebody to fill her in. "Oh my god—what?"

Angela separated herself from you to walk over to Amanda and yank her down to face level. You watched as Angela cupped her hands over Amanda's ear to whisper the not at all secret information.

"What? Oh my god, romance!" Amanda exclaimed, eyes going wide as she grinned at you. "How did that happen?"

"Like, minute by minute, what happened." Angela pressed, returning to your side and begging for information.

"Don't..." Chanse raised a brow at Angela, who ignored him.

Ian and Anthony walked in, and you tugged Angela closer to your side, gesturing for Chanse and Amanda to move into a huddle with you.

"I mean," you sighed, reflecting on the events of the weekend and trying to think of a way to recount them that wouldn't get you a meeting with HR. "You guys left, we were hanging out, and..."

"And?" Angela looked like she might combust, practically vibrating where she stood.

"And..." You tilted your head, smirking.

"Y'all fuck?" Chanse quipped.

"They definitely fucked." Amanda nodded, laughing.

"Ew!" Angela shrilled.

You laughed. "You already knew that! And you asked!"

The huddle broke apart as Angela pretended to be disgusted.

"I wanna know about your sex life, not Damien's!"

"And I don't want to hear about either!" Ian called over his shoulder at the group of you, shuddering.

"You kept talking about your balls last week," Chanse deadpanned, "Don't start."

"Not my balls!" Ian gestured enthusiastically with his hands, "Balls in general!"

"Call that testicular inclusivity." Anthony mumbled.

You watched your friends fall into fits of laughter; the events of the weekend and the early morning call time were clearly making you all delirious.

Still, you joined in, giggling into your mug as you finished your tea.

~~~

The week wore on without much to write home about.

There was the occasional quip about how it happened; a joke here or there about the snail's pace it had taken the two of you to get together; for the most part, though, it was business as usual.

When Friday rolled around, you felt the faint beginnings of burnout; you could only be funny for so long until it felt like it was all an act. But games videos were nice, and sitting and laughing with no expectation of physical humor was a relief.

It helped that Damien was hosting, sat next to you with a deck of cards in hand.

When Alex called cut, you rolled your neck, sore from bending over to look at the table for so long. You watched Arasha, Trevor, and Tommy stand from their seats, walking off set to find solitude or conversation.

"What are you up to tonight?" Damien turned to you, swiping the cards off the table and packing them away.

"Depends," you glanced up at him, "What are you up to?"

"I was gonna ask if you, uh..." He seemed nervous, and it made your pulse jump happily.

How had you managed to swallow your feelings for so long?

How had you managed to get here?

"Can I take you out on that real date I promised you?" He bit the inside of his cheek.

There was a certain tenderness in his anxiety; the way he was clearly still fearful of rejection despite the series of events that had brought you here.

You opened your mouth to answer, but Spencer inadvertently cut you off.

"Hey lovebirds! We're breaking for lunch," he walked over to take the game box from Damien, tossing it onto the shelf and making his way to the hall. "C'mon." He waited for the both of you with a teasing smile.

"Pick me up at seven?" You let Damien grab your hand as you rose from your seat.

"Yeah," he nodded, lips curling at the corners into a soft smile. "Perfect."

~~~

“You're so pretty.” Damien was soft-spoken, sitting across from you in the nearly empty diner.

His words were practically sighed, and you liked the way it sounded; as if your mere presence was enough to leave him breathless.

“You have a crush on me or something?” You popped a french fry in your mouth, smiling.

“How dare you?” He smiled, feigning shock at your accusation, “I mean, yeah. But I also really think you look nice.”

“Don’t I always?” You teased.

“Yeah,” he smiled, sincere, “You do.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm. You still hadn’t gotten used to getting compliments like this from him, having grown so familiar with his teasing and his praise for your skills on set; him taking notice of your appearance felt foreign.

It gave you butterflies, which was cliché, but it was the truth.

Really, you weren’t wearing anything special. Maybe you were a bit more dolled up than you would be at work, but it was a far cry from a designer look.

Still, his flattery was genuine. He looked at you, sitting in the run-down restaurant, picking at the fries on your plate, like you were the most elegant thing he’d ever seen.

And he looked just a beautiful to you.

You were glad that it was a quiet date, free of any grand romantic gestures and expensive bills. This is what it was meant to be like; two people enjoying each other’s company, brushing knees under the table; putting two straws in one glass, giggling together.

The girl at the counter was young, probably in high school. She looked less than pleased to be working in a mostly-empty restaurant on a Friday night.

But as far as you were concerned, this was the place to be, because this is where Damien was.

~~~

He drove you home.

It was a cheerful car ride, and despite the sun having set, you were wired; wide awake and eager to be close to him.

Some things never changed.

But you did feel a little wary now. It wasn’t discomfort, more so an anxiety about what happened next.

You’d fucked him countless times now, spent the weekend tangled in his sheets, breathless kisses paused only to murmur your affection for each other. But you didn’t know how a date like this was supposed to end.

Would he leave you on the steps with a peck on the cheek and tell you he’d see you tomorrow? Would he squeeze your hand and say he had a good time? Would he press you against the door and kiss you until you were both winded?

You almost shook the thought from your head, before remembering that it was no longer inappropriate to think of him that way—and thank god for that, because you were having trouble now getting rid of the mental image of him fucking you against a wall.

Really, it was just a matter of being uncertain about how to ask him to stay with you—to stay over, to sleep with you; to make your bed his own, just as you had made his bed your own.

Would he even want to? It was one thing to hide away in his room together, but would a change of scenery be at all of interest to him?

The questions that clouded your brain ultimately wouldn’t stop you from speaking up, but the new-relationship nerves were certainly making their presence known.

“Do you wanna come in for coffee?” You posed the question with a glance at him when the car stopped in front of your apartment.

“It’s…” He checked his phone, “It’s almost ten.” He seemed confused.

“Damien,” you smiled, tickled by his bewilderment, “I’m asking if—…do you wanna stay the night…?”

“O—oh!” Damien’s features morphed to shoot you an eager smile, half of his mouth quirking upwards as he spoke. “Yeah. I’ll…have some coffee.”

You laughed as you got out of the car, relieved and enraptured.

~~~

Damien perched a hand on your waist from behind, letting you lead him through the door of your apartment and into the kitchen.

You couldn’t recall a time in recent memory that he’d been here; the small space you called your own wasn’t really ideal for post-shoot parties, and hosting people had never really been your forte.

Still, he looked good as he followed you through the apartment—he looked good anywhere and everywhere, but seeing him in your house seemed so natural; it painted him in a light of familiar domesticity.

“You’re actually making coffee?” He spoke up when you stopped walking, watching you put the kettle on the stove.

“Tea,” you turned over your shoulder to reply. “Why?”

“If I’m being honest, I thought this was a ploy for you to sleep with me,” he grinned, moving to stand beside you. “Not that I’m complaining. Tea is also good.”

“You can have both,” you muttered, reaching to open the cabinet that held the mugs. “Just figured it would be rude to invite you in under false pretenses…”

“Well, in that case, you are being rude,” he laughed, “Tea was the one thing you didn’t mention in the car, Old Sport.”

“Gonna do something about it?” You smirked, side-eyeing him briefly before turning your attention back to the stove.

“I mean, I’m gonna wait for you to turn off the flame—but then, yeah.” He moved behind you again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

His hands found your waist again, wrapping his arms around you to pull you ever so slightly against him.

You felt hot, and it had nothing to do with the low flame of the burner.

You wondered if he could sense the desire emanating from you, though it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what you wanted as you scrambled to turn off the stove and turned on your heel to face him.

“Hi.” He grinned at you, tightening his grasp on your waist.

“Hi.” You returned the smile, hands perched on his shoulders.

There was a pause, time spent admiring each other in the stillness of your kitchen.

“Alright, well,” Damien tilted his head down at you, feigning a serious expression, “Did say I had to do this.”

“Do w—Damien!”

You halted your line of questioning when his grip went lax around your waist, hands dropping to your thighs so that he could haul you up into his arms.

“Can’t believe you tried to make me tea…” He tsked, laughing at the mild shock that painted your features.

“You know,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, purring in his ear. “I think it’s only fair I learn my lesson.”

Damien stifled a groan, walking out of the kitchen with you in his arms. He paused when faced with the entrance to the hallway.

“So,” he sucked his teeth, “One question—super random, not that important…bedroom?”

“Second door on the right.” You laughed softly against the crook of his neck.

“I knew that.” He nodded, continuing his trek to your room and pushing open the door.

“Never doubted you for a second.” You smiled, and he huffed a brief laugh.

He stopped in front of your bed, dropping you gently onto the mattress.

You bounced a little, scrambling to push yourself up on your elbows, but he clearly had no desire to be separated from you for too long. Almost immediately, he leaned down, flattening you against the bed and pressing kisses to your neck.

You let out soft gasps of approval, hands flying to grip his hair and tug gently at the back of his shirt.

“You—” He kissed your collar bone, nipping at it just enough to leave a soft red mark, “You are—” He licked a stripe up your throat.

You tightened your fist in his hair, receiving a groan from him as you coaxed him up to look at you.

“Breathe, Damien,” you giggled at his zeal, “I’m what?”

He grinned down at you; face flushed a light pink as he nodded.

“You’re perfect,” he sighed, admiring the way you looked up at him. “I love you.”

You reached up to push hair from his face, only to watch the silver strands roll back down over his eyes again.

“I love you.” You whispered.

Maybe someday you’d be able to grasp that this was your reality; it still felt too good to be true. But it was true, he wanted you—he loved you.

He caught your lips with his, breaking you from your sappy thoughts and leading you in a slow kiss. He licked your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth with a quiet moan, encouraging him to take it further.

He parted from you, and though you missed the heat of his lips on yours, you were content to feel him suck marks gently onto the exposed portion of your chest.

“You have a lot of clothing on.” It was all he said between his focused decoration of your skin, just snarky enough to let you know he was being playful, but he did mean what he said.

“Nobody challenged me to a game of Smash.” You sighed, cupping the back of his head and toying with the hair on the nape of his neck as he covered you in love bites.

He laughed quietly against your body, the soft vibrations traveling over you in gentle waves.

“Knew I forgot something…” He brought a hand to the hem of your shirt, toying with the fabric.

“I forgive you,” you glanced down at him, “Now’s as good a time as any. But I should tell you—I don’t have a console.”

“Just have to get naked for no reason, then.” Damien let his hand roam under your shirt.

“You can take it off,” you tried and failed to not sound pleading. “Please.”

He huffed a short sigh, smirking as he began to push your shirt up your body. You sat up awkwardly, shucking off the fabric and tossing it across the room.

“Pants.” You spoke eagerly, pushing at his shoulders so that you could have space to rid yourself of the remaining clothing.

“What about 'em?” Damien smiled, flipping onto his back and watching you scramble to remove your jeans. “Personally, I’ve always been partial to them.”

You shook your head, laughing as you struggled to get the denim off your legs.

Stripped down to your underwear, you threw your pants in the same direction you’d thrown your shirt, before ridding yourself of your panties, too.

You took the opportunity of having him on his back to straddle his waist.

“You’re ridiculous.” You stared down at him, trailing your fingers over the collar of his shirt.

“You’re naked.” He wasn't shy about the way he raked his gaze over you.

“I could get dressed again,” you teased, “I look damn good in pajamas…”

“I believe you,” Damien placed his hands on your hips, “But—and I mean no offense—I think I enjoy you like this a little more.” He stroked your sides, smirking, “Just a little.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, slinking off his lap to a quiet grumble of upset from him. You slipped off the bed, kneeling between his legs and placing your palms on his clothed thighs.

“Damien.” You watched him sit up, looking down at you.

“Uh-huh?” The smirk on his face was gone, replaced with an expression that read of clear arousal.

“Can I take these off for you?”

“Uh-huh.” He repeated, gaze shifting to watch your hands as you fiddled with his zipper.

You managed to undo his fly with only a bit of resistance from the material, glancing up at him when you pawed over his boxers.

He let out a quiet groan, deep and throaty, and put his hands on top of yours, helping you pull his cock from the confines of the material.

You held him by the base, lips parted as you leaned forward to kitten-lick the tip of his cock. You heard his breath hitch, a clear indicator that he was already lost to the feeling of your mouth on him. You took it a step further, wrapping your lips around him and taking the entirety of his cockhead into your mouth, swirling your tongue slowly.

“Fuck,” Damien whimpered, leaning back on his elbows in an attempt to keep his eyes on your movements. “You look good like this.”

“Yeah?” You removed yourself from him briefly, taking the time to lick a stripe up his length, flicking your tongue over his tip.

You took him back into your mouth, pushing yourself deeper and hollowing your cheeks over him.

“Y—eah.” He whined, hips rising slightly to meet the movements of your mouth.

You made a happy sound, bobbing your head a little faster before removing yourself with a quiet pop and working his length in your hand. You twisted your wrist, focusing on the tip of his cock and listening intently to the way his moans caught in his throat when you squeezed gently.

“Come here,” he gave up on propping himself up, lying flat on his back. “Please—let me taste you, princess.”

You pouted, teasing him. You made a show of taking his cock back into your mouth instead of giving into his demand.

“Jesus Christ,” Damien’s voice was gruff, tinged with need and a failing dominance. “C’mon, baby. Can’t—can’t keep going and expect me to last long. Please”

You hummed around his cock, tongue gliding over him.

He sat up enough to look down at you again, holding eye contact in a way that made your actions feel all the more sinful.

“You’re greedy.” He chastised you, reaching out to grab at the back of your head.

You didn’t stop, blinking up at him as you choked on his cock, feeling him press against the back of your throat.

Damien groaned, his grip on your hair tightening. He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily before opening them again to look down at you.

“If you're that fucking desperate, I’ll just give you what you want,” his breath came out a little stuttered, focused more on the way you bobbed over his cock than on his own words. “Don’t have to be a brat about it.”

He pulled you up by the hair before pushing you back down, using your mouth like a toy and watching you splutter on his length.

“Look at that, princess,” he groaned through clenched teeth, “Take it so good, on your knees for me like that.”

You moaned, gagging on him. You were acutely aware of the way your spit had begun to coat the bottom of your face as you pushed yourself to take his cock as far down your throat as you could.

Your eyes flickered back and forth between his face and the base of his cock as you continued, grabbing at his thighs and pulling whimpers from him before he finally pulled your mouth off of his length and stared down at you, panting.

“Christ,” he heaved, closing his eyes as he caught his breath, “It’s like you want me to finish early.”

“Easy clean up…” You wiped the drool off your chin, smirking.

“You think you’re so funny.” Damien shook his head, feigning exasperation as you stood up, staying between his legs and leaning over him.

“I know I’m funny,” you purred, “I’m also desperate to fuck you.”

“You’re fucking me?” Damien grabbed you by the waist, pulling you on top of him and grinning when you moved to straddle him. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Bet you would.” You laughed, and he rolled over, pinning you beneath him.

“I would, princess,” his voice dropped to a soft growl, “I’ll let you show me, if there’s time after I’m done with you.”

You whined, bucking your hips upwards and letting out a small gasp when you felt the weight of his cock bounce against your cunt.

He let out a gruff sound, furrowing his brow at the feeling of you rolling your hips against him.

“Wanna taste you, before…” He trailed off, sucking a mark onto your collar bone as you combed your fingers through his hair.

“Before?” You smiled teasingly.

“Sorry—before I fuck you stupid,” he tilted his face to look at you, “Thought it was implied.”

He trailed kisses down your stomach, gentle presses of his lips paired with the occasional graze of his teeth, before he reached your core. He pushed your thighs open to admire you.

He said nothing as he began to lick into you, tasting the evidence of your enjoyment from going down on him.

You whimpered, reaching down to cup his face and brush your thumb over his cheek as best you could while he wrapped his lips around your clit.

“Oh my god…” Your hand moved to cup the back of his head, pressing him further against your needy cunt and raising your hips to meet the movement of his tongue.

“So fucking good,” Damien parted from you just long enough to whisper praises against the apex of your thigh, “Christ, you taste so good.”

You didn’t respond, breath coming out stuttered when he pushed a finger into you and resumed flicking his tongue over your clit. You could feel yourself hurtling towards the end; trembling for him, mouth falling open to whine into the otherwise quiet room.

He pulled his face back for a moment as he curled his finger, stroking gently over your front wall and letting his gaze dart over to your face to see the way your eyes fluttered.

Damien’s expression was gentle, caring as he pressed a kiss to your clit; to juxtapose the tenderness, he pressed another finger into you, groaning softly when your walls squeezed tightly around him.

“That’s two, baby,” he sighed against you, unable to tear himself away from more than a breath at a time, eagerly sucking on your clit, “You feel good?”

“So—fuck, yes,” you rocked your hips back and forth, begging for the feeling of his tongue, his fingers; desperate to feel him deeper, to feel him forever. “Love it.”

“Whole thing,” Damien stilled his ministrations, looking up with hooded eyes as he ever so slightly curled his fingers to make you squirm. “Say the whole thing, princess.”

“I love your fingers, Damien,” you swallowed the whimper that threatened to interrupt your obedient response, “I love your mouth. You make me feel so good—only you.”

He breathed a quiet moan, pulling his fingers from you and tugging you further down the bed until he managed to wrap his arms beneath your thighs.

You yelped, giggling at his enthusiasm. Your amusement was stifled by the gasp of satisfaction that escaped you when he buried his face into your cunt, groaning softly against you as he lapped at your slick.

You reached down to grab a fistful of his hair, moaning wantonly and tugging at his roots, grinding down on his face when he slipped his tongue into your entrance.

“Doing so well, baby—you gonna cum?” His voice was cloying as he pulled back to spit onto your cunt. “Gonna cum? Finish fast for me so I can give you more?”

“Yeah—yes,” you nodded frantically, his teasing serving to push you forward to the height of your pleasure. “I want—please, I want to.”

“Yeah, you want to,” he growled, licking a stripe up your slit. “C’mon, princess—right there, give it to me so I can fuck you nice.”

He honed his focus on your clit again, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin as he swirled his tongue over you.

Something inside you pulled taut, toes curling and back arching against his mouth as the strain faded into something loose and hazy; body feeling light and malleable as you squeezed your thighs gently around his head.

You could hear him catching his breath, feel his soft exhales against your soaked sex, and it made you squirm absentmindedly as your body recoiled at the barely-there overstimulation.

Damien moved his hands, standing over you now with his grip firm on your hips. He was grinning, face coated in your slick and eyes wide with an insatiable sort of hunger.

“Tickles…” You sighed, unable to stop yourself from admiring him; his actions were sinful, fueled by lust in equal part to love, but the way you looked at each other remained so inherently tender.

“Don’t—” He laughed, guard coming down as the dominant façade melted away at the sight of your smile. “Tickly isn’t really the vibe I was going for.”

“Gonna have to try harder, then.” You quirked a brow, reaching up to cup his cheek and brush your thumb over the rosy warmth of his skin.

You could pinpoint the exact moment he slipped into that dominant role again.

No sooner had the words left your mouth had he managed to use his grip on your hips to flip you onto your stomach. You yelped through your grin, enjoying the way he manhandled you, bringing your knees up onto the mattress so that you were on all fours before him.

“You want me to try?” He scoffed, and you could hear the smirk in his words, the edge of something so purely Damien peeking through the cocky veneer. “Or are you just talking back like that so I’m rougher?”

“Maybe both…”

You smiled, pressing your cheek into the mattress and batting your lashes—you couldn’t see him, but you knew he could see you, and that’s what the show was for, anyway.

“Try to make it rougher.”

“If you’re good.” He swatted your ass lightly, not enough for it to hurt, but enough for it to hold your attention.

You sighed softly, listening to the sound of fabric hitting the floor as he stripped himself down. You wiggled your hips to the best of your ability in the position, trying to recapture his attention when he kicked his discarded clothing to the side.

When you felt a heavy palm on the curve of your ass, his fingers digging into your skin, you mewled.

“You’re so needy,” he breathed, hand sweeping over your ass and down the outer side of your thigh. “Not gonna just leave you here, princess, you know that.”

“Not needy,” you pouted, "Impatient."

“Want me to fuck you with my jeans on, Old Sport?”

You whipped your head around, glaring playfully at him.

“Not while we’re fucking—you cannot call me that when I’m on my knees, Damien.” You laughed, absolutely no bite in your argument.

You didn’t care, you just wanted to push back and see how much more riled up you could get him.

“Oh, yeah…?” He dropped his gaze, smiling, and though you couldn’t see it exactly, the movement of his arm captured the way he fisted his cock.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours again, the head of his cock close enough to your entrance that you could feel the soft skin.

“Watch me.”

He pushed into you with a quiet hiss, a sound that quickly morphed into a groan when he bottomed out.

“Fucking god—” You whimpered quietly, exhaling a shaky breath at the way his balls pressed against your clit, heightening the already pleasurable experience of bending over for him.

“I know,” he groaned, one of his hands glued to your side, the other trailing down your spine. “Just take it, baby, I know you can.”

You moaned when he pulled his hips back, arching your back to chase the feeling of having his cock inside of you.

You didn’t have to beg, nor did your body language have to mark any significant want—he knew what you were after; he wanted it, too, and the way he began to push into you with such calculated, gentle intensity proved as much.

He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your abdomen and holding you tightly; you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat against your spine as he kissed the back of your neck.

Damien altered his pace, pulling his hips back only a fraction to ensure an intimate level of nearness as he breathed you in from behind.

“There you go,” Damien’s lips grazed your neck as he spoke in a low growl, “So eager for me to use this pussy, princess. Giving it to me so easy.”

“Deep…” It was all you could say, murmuring the vague praise of his actions against the mattress.

“Yeah, nice and deep," he groaned, hooking his arms under yours from behind and pressing his palms into your shoulders; it gave him perfect leverage, pulling you against him and grinding further into you. “Right where you need it, baby—make sure my cock is the only one you can take.”

You took a stuttered breath, whining as your eyes rolled back; you let that act as a response to his words, unable to form a verbal reply as the head of his cock continually pounded your most sensitive spot and forced slick to run down the inside of your thighs.

The shallow thrusts ensured a level of friction consistently hit your front wall, sparking something feral and desperate within you that was only vocalized through throaty moans. Your fingers tangled with your bedsheets as he ground his hips against your ass to push himself as deep as he could.

He had you effectively trapped between himself and the mattress, grip on you tightening with every thrust before his arms went lax again around your waist, only to repeat the subconscious action.

You gave up on trying to hold yourself up, letting your arms go limp beneath you and letting him take total control. You tried desperately to turn your head, to capture his lips with yours and have him kiss you properly.

He wouldn’t have it, and you managed to see his slack-jawed bliss morph into a smirk in your peripheral.

“No—take it how I’m giving it to you, princess,” he huffed, trying desperately to keep a level voice as he spoke between moans. “Give me what I want, I’ll give you what you want.”

You let out a frustrated, pleading cry of his name, pushing yourself back against his cock and eagerly pursuing the height of pleasure you knew he was desperate to see you reach.

Damien moved one of his arms, snaking it down your body and pressing the pad of his middle finger to your clit, rubbing tight circles over it.

“Oh, fuck. Damien, I’m—fuck—” You arched your back, mewling.

You heard him huff quietly behind you, his movements slowing slightly.

“Nice to meet you, fuck. I’m—”

“You can’t—” You reached back to pull his hair, laughter evident between your breathy moans as he increased the speed of his thrusts again. “Shut up, Damien.”

He nosed your neck, properly resuming his ministrations now and continuing to manipulate your body to bring you closer to the brink.

“I love you.” He mumbled against your throat, placing sloppy kisses on the sensitive skin.

“I know,” you kept your hand tangled in his hair, letting yourself melt into his touch. “I love you, too.”

“Show me,” his voice returned to a low growl, “C’mon, princess, show me how much you love me—show me how much you love getting fucked out like this.”

He moved the arm that he still had wrapped beneath your shoulder to curl his fingers around your neck, pulling you up slightly. The shift in angle was just enough to hasten the speed that you reached your peak; his cock gently nudging your cervix as the friction against your front wall knocked air from your lungs.

He added pressure to the circles he rubbed over your clit, pressing down to give you the perfect friction and groaning when he felt your walls flutter around him.

“D—please…” You whimpered, putty in his hands and content to stay this way for eternity.

“So good, princess,” he sighed, his fingers pressing gently against your throat as he kissed up your jawline, “You can do it. You can do it—c'mon, do it for me.”

A quiet moan passed through your lips, back arching for a moment before your body went completely limp for him, soaking him with your satisfaction as you trembled.

“Fuck,” he groaned, biting down gently on your shoulder and fucking you through your high. “That’s right—give it to me, baby, you’re doing so good. So fucking good for me.”

He eased his hand off your clit, opting now to wrap his arms around your torso again, keeping you as close as possible as he faced the height of his own pleasure. His hips stuttered as he thrusted lazily into your cunt, his breath heaving against the crook of your neck.

“Please,” you mumbled, falling deep into a blissed-out haze, “Please—said I could have what I want…”

“I know, baby,” he nodded, huffing a breath that bordered a laugh. “I know—gonna give it to you. Deserve a reward. So well behaved, right?”

You nodded lazily against the mattress, happy to feel his weight atop you; to be used like a toy by someone who cared so deeply.

“Tell me where, princess.” He moved to press his face between your shoulder blades, trying to stave off his high for a few more moments.

“You know where.” You sighed, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts again.

Damien reached down to squeeze at your thigh before giving it a smack.

“Say it,” he ordered, “Use your words and fucking say it.”

“Inside,” you squeaked out, “Please, cum inside of me, Damien. That’s what I want—that’s where I want it.”

“Fuck—again,” he heaved out the command, so close but still hungry for the tinge of desperation in your voice as you begged for him to finish inside you. “Say it again, baby—one more time.”

“Want you to cum in me,” your voice took an even more pleading lilt, anticipating the physical flood of warmth and the emotional bliss that would come with his high. “Need it, Damien, please, please, please—”

“God, fuck—!” Damien’s grip around your waist tightened, the sloppy pace he had fallen into faltering as he came.

You moaned, a soft hum as his spend coated your walls.

He didn’t waste his time teasing you, lovestruck and happy to show it; he pulled out of you with a wistful sigh before hooking a hand under your stomach, easing you onto your back and looking down at your fucked out expression with a grin.

You reached up for him, and he gladly fell into your arms; you wrapped yourself around him, absentmindedly trailing your lips over his neck and shoulders, moving to brush them over his jaw before planting chaste kisses to his cheek.

He caught your lips with his, and you fell into a quiet period of admiration; kissing each other breathless in such a pure, innocent manner, despite the events of the past hour and the sinful image of the two of you, completely bare and soaked with each other’s pleasure.

“So,” you broke away from the kiss to speak, “About that coffee...”

“Wasn’t it tea?” Damien smiled, top teeth on display as he lifted you up slightly to ensure your whole body was comfortably on the mattress.

You rolled your eyes, grinning when he stretched out next to you on the bed.

“I can put the kettle on.” You muttered, turning on your side to trace shapes over his chest.

“It’s late, princess.” He grabbed your hand, tugging your body against his and watching you curl into his side.

“So that’s a no on tea?”

“No on tea. And no on any other hot beverage you might suggest.” Damien smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re a very easy to please guest.” You looked up at him, smiling.

“What can I say?” He gestured vaguely, “You’re a very good host.”

“You're only saying that cause you just came in me.” You smirked, stifling a quiet laugh.

“Got me there,” he returned your smirk, looking down at you adoringly. “But, y’know…mostly just because it’s you.” He leaned down to kiss you quickly, staying level with you even when he parted. “And I love you.”

You sighed happily, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your face to the crook of his neck.

“I love you.” You spoke against him, his skin trapping your words.

You were both quiet for a moment, basking in the proximity.

“Want me to turn off the light?” He spoke up, voice soft as he combed his fingers through your hair.

You nodded, eyes threatening to close as he got up to hit the switch.

“Thanks for taking me out tonight.” You mumbled when he returned to your side.

“Thanks for letting me,” he sighed, draping the blanket over your naked form and making himself comfortable beneath it with you. “Just can’t get enough of you, Old Sport.”

“Feeling’s mutual.” You giggled softly, the drowsy edges of sleep beginning to close in on you.

He didn’t say anything, hauling you backwards to press his chest to your back, tucking your head under his chin and letting his arm fall comfortably over your side.

It was the only response you really needed.

☆Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi :)☆

#damien haas #damien haas fanfiction #damien haas fic #damien haas smut #damien haas x reader #damien haas x you #smosh #smosh fanfiction #smosh fic #smosh smut

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latteodyssey · 6 months ago

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geek-con adventures | Tim Drake x reader ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: attending a geek convention with Tim and hearing him yap about D&D

masterlist

"So the final episode actually never aired, but the script.." Tim says, his voice filled with glee.

He was having so much fun that his excitement was contagious. A warm feeling spread through you as Tim beamed at the convention's various attractions, eagerly sharing fun facts about his favorite shows.

You had never been a huge fan of conventions, but seeing Tim Drake dressed as Presto, the magician from the Dungeons & Dragons TV series, in a complete costume with a cute green magician hat and gown, was an opportunity you couldn't miss.

He'd insisted you dress as your favorite character from the show too, and though you were hesitant at first, here you were, in a full costume as well. The way his face lit up as soon as he saw you fully in character was a sight you’ll never forget.

He holds your hand tightly as you walk through crowds of people, you look around admiring the multitude of costumes. You can’t help but giggle as you notice people dressed up as vigilantes.

But the one thing you couldn’t stop staring at was his face, oh he looked so adorable! The way his eyes sparkled as he spoke, his cheeks were flushed in a soft shad of pink, he seemed much more relaxed, the stress of his chaotic everyday life seemed to not exist for a second, and it made you feel at peace.

"— baby, are you listening to me?"

You blink hard, realizing you just lost half the conversation. The both of you had stopped walking and he was standing there, staring at you with his eyebrows furrowed and a confused expression on his face.

"I’m sorry — it’s just that you look so damn cute when you're excited," you blurt out.

"Is that what you've been thinking all along?"

"Can you blame me?" You say as you move closer, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

"That just means I'll say it all over again," he says, giving you a joyful smile — the one you adored seeing.

"And I'll love every second of it."

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fandomwritingbit · 2 years ago

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💀Hallowe'en Special💀

After Hours,

Springtrap x fem reader

Synop: Sneaking into a horror attraction after dark was really fucking stupid and you're about to find out just how much.

A/n: I totally get that this probably isn't everyone's cup of tea, so please be warned, also bare in mind writing for Springtrap is completely new for me.

Warnings: Springtrap/william afton. Explicit non-con/rape. Violence. Threat. Themes of kidnapping.

Credit to image creator.

It was everything you expected and more.

The building reeked of lack of care, practically falling apart with all its paint peeling and the half illuminated sign. It looks creepy as fuck. That's why you came.

You love to be scared. And this place has the potential to be truly terrifying.

You spoke to a friend of yours who told you they'd done exactly this a week or so ago. And it was soooo much better after hours, when you can go where you want to and do what you want to; which in your case is dick around with the animatronics. They were supposed to come along as well but flaked out last minute, leaving you standing in front of the place on your lonesome. But you’re not one to be defeated by a shit friend not showing, so you’re still going to go in.

And so, with your phone torch lighting your way you go to the back of the building. And unsurprisingly you're greeted with a high fence with its gate chained closed. That isn't going to stop you though. Smirking, you throw your backpack over the fence and then slide your phone under it, torch up so you can sort of see what you're doing.

One foot wedges in the metal, the toe of your shoe just able to fit through the diamond-shaped gap enough to give you purchase, letting you slot your other foot in the gap a little higher up. It was easy really, almost like they wanted you to hop over it, no anti-climb or spikes or anything. At the top of the fence you sit for a moment, wishing you kept hold of your phone for a photo here, illuminated by the solitary light of the building sign. Oh well, there's always the opportunity on the way out.

You jump down, careful to land with bended knees, if you hurt yourself you wouldn’t exactly be able to call an ambulance. From there you dust yourself off for a minute and grab all your stuff, wincing when the harsh light of your phone catches your eye.

"And now the fun begins." You whisper to yourself, as you slip around the building, quickly laying your eyes on the back door, which according to your mate was easy pickings, quite literally. Shoving your makeshift kit into the lock, it only takes a few moments of jiggling in before, hey presto, the bitch clicks open. It really was too easy.

Inside, you flash your torch around this hallway, thinking to yourself that it looks like a 'back-stage' area with all the clutter and, god, the dust, which now flitted through the air disturbed by your movement. Honestly, with the amount of it caked on everything you wouldn’t think that this place was operational. Box after box lay on the chequered tile floor and you follow them down the corridor, checking door handles along your way.

One opens to reveal a small cupboard filled with toilet roll and cleaning supplies. Another to one with stacks of papers, documents of some kind, probably accounts or some shit, but seriously who keeps paper copies nowadays? But the third one was the most interesting one.

The metal door was a labour to open, scraping into the floor over a mark from others doing the same thing, the room was dark but you can tell instantly that it’s much bigger than the previous two. You use your phone torch to scan through the pitch black, revealing the jackpot. Animatronic heads are mounted on the wall like the room belongs to some kind of a game hunter. Pointing the light down, you see the rest of the beasts, huge chest cases and clumpy-looking feet littered along the floor And in the corner the skeletons, light bouncing off them back at you, their eyes reflecting red.

“Ho-ly shit…” You say into the darkness, grinning from ear to ear. This place was fucking insane, in the absloute best way. You waste no time inserting yourself in the room, placing huge metal heads over your shoulders and snapping a few pics looking like some demonic purple rabbit. Then some more with your arm draped over these endo-skeleton things, these took you a bit longer to build the courage to touch because fuck, their eyes were staring right into the depths of your soul. But once you did touch them and they didn’t pounce on you, you felt reassured enough to tackle anything else this creepy attraction would throw at you.

After about ten minutes in your photoshoot, you leave the room wanting to see more than the behind the scenes stuff, you may as well see all the bits the normies get to see. Looking online earlier you knew all about the set up, creepy 80s looking corridors designed to mirror an old pizzeria chain, where apparently some kids had gone missing. Patrons could even sit inside the faux-security office taking shifts trying not to jump out of their skins as robotic creatures stalked them. Now that, you’re dying to see.

It takes you no time to find the corridors leading to the security office, on the way discovering the dormant animatronics. One a seven foot fucking teddy bear, another a beat up looking rabbit. Golden- or maybe green, it’s hard to tell in the absence of light. This one is particularly nerve-wracking, something about its stance, it’s head tilted to the side but its eyes looking up.

“Fuuuuck,” you giggle, angling your head to look into the creature’s mouth, open only slightly. “the designers did a good job on you, shit…” It’s only when your face gets very close to it, the robot shifts, its metallic body struggling loudly in the otherwise silent building. You flinch hard, body shoving itself away from it, thudding against the wall hard enough to wind yourself. It quickly halts, the movement dying when its head fully rears.

You breathe out shakily, laughing at your own stupidity, clearly you triggered some kind of motion sensor and paid the price for it. You shake your head at the beast, moving away from it down the corridor and into the office, careful not to get too close to anything else that could try to scare the shit out of you. You finally manage it, and step into the office through a doorway without the actual door part, an excited smile spreading across your face. This is so fucking cool, you think, crouching down to look at a monitor on the desk, then deciding to sit in the grimy swivel chair in front of it. You then notice that the desk has drawers in it and move to look through them, an eagerly curious part of you taking over. The top one is full of a tonne of random shit sellotape, paperclips, a computer mouse and its ancient cord. The one underneath though, sticks, you rive it hard to try and open it, even more intrigued that it wouldn’t open. You jiggle it hard, the rattle echoing in the large room, but your efforts amount to fuck all and it doesnt move an inch.

You sigh, calling the drawer a bastard under your breath and recline a little in the seat, closing your eyes for a moment. When you open them you nearly jump six feet in the air at the sight of that fucking animatronic from earlier, the yellow bunny, standing in the the doorway, it’s huge head peeking round the corner, staring directly at you. How in god’s name didn’t you hear the fucking thing move? It must weigh loads and it looks old, so there’s no way it can move silently.

“God, this place.” you say, to yourself, to the room, it doesn’t matter. You’ve had enough scares for tonight, it’s probably best if you bail before you trigger any other attractions. No longer smiling, you stand up hesitantly, moving slowly and consciously. Some kind of dread now hanging in the air because this fucking rabbit is really creepy.

You walk up to the door and carefully squeeze yourself through the gap, desperate to not touch the thing. Managing it, you outwardly sigh, that was a small mercy because some loud noise from the robot would probably give you a heart attack right now. You step away from it, ready to get yourself out of here. But the second your back is turned the most agonising sound makes you freeze.

Breathing. Raspy, pained, human, fucking breathing.

Your turning around is prevented by the cold grip on your throat, backing you up against its metal body, its lack of body heat making goosebumps spring over you instantly. Uselessly, you push against its hold, instinctively wanting to get away from it and the reality of what was happening. But your struggling just makes it grip you harder, thick plastic fingers tight on the base of your throat.

A deeply coarse sound vibrates from the creature, a breathy sound that takes you a while to realise is laughter. Laughter cold and mean, making your heart hammer in your chest. “What stupid little girl snoops around in the dark on her own?” Each word sounds painful, it must take the thing sheer will to push past such agony just to taunt you.

You tremble, “What- what are you?” the words so quietly terrified you can’t believe they’re your own. There’s no way this is part of the attraction. Just no way anyone would program this to grab patrons so violently. This was something all too wrong and all too real.

Without warning or hesitation the creature uses your throat as leverage to slam you against the wall, there’s no room for protest or struggling, it’s power is inhumanly strong. You cry out when your body hits the concrete, its unfeeling coolness stark contrast to the fretful heat coming from you. The robot’s head cranes down above yours, a subtle clicking alerting you to every slight movement. You’re winded, energy trickling down your face as tears when you’re dawned to the terrifying conclusion that you’re trapped.

It finally answers you, the raspy voice coiling your stomach in fear. “Your worst fucking nightmare.” The creature must hear you sob in response because again it- he laughs, it’s cold and mocking. Only stopping when he takes the time to parrot your desperate fearful noises back at you, making himself laugh again. It’s becoming clear to you that this must be a person, someone inside this awful thing, an employee gone rogue, trying to scare the living daylights out of people stupid enough to break in… maybe. But that voice…

“You’re hurting me.” You choke out, unsure of what you’re trying to accomplish. Internally reasoning that people have empathy and people can be talked down, you hope that he’ll let you go but it seems more and more unlikely by the second. The hand on the back of your head flexes, tangling in your hair and yanking your head upwards so you can glimpse him out of the corner of your eyes and the sight is just awful.

The inexpressive face comes close as the man inside hisses through the rabbit mask, “You don’t know the meaning of hurt.”

“Look,” you whimper, “I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have come here.” The words are near incomprehensible through your tears. “God, I shouldn’t have come here…” You repeat, body convulsing under the monster’s grip. Your crying is loud in the corridor, echoing off the hard floors and mirroring the heartbreaking sound back at you. You're lost in it for a couple of seconds whilst this thing seems to just enjoy the sound, before the air is knocked from your lungs by the creature’s hand trailing down the arch of your back, all the way down to your behind where he grabs a hard handful of your flesh. It’s so unexpected that you just stare at what you can see of him over your shoulder, now silently shaking. The action turns your stomach, it doesn’t hurt but it’s rough and riddled with intent.

His other hand moves, turning you around before again shoving you to the wall and caging you in with his massive frame, using that insane strength to push you down to your knees. “No,” He almost coos, “You shouldn’t have. But don’t worry… I won’t let you go to waste.”

Whilst you're still making sense of the words, the monster grabs itself at the waist, huge fingers prying between the metal plates and rummaging until he frees his very human and very real penis. You don't want this and the disdain is evident in your eyes, but a dark part of you thinks that to please him will make him let you go. He holds himself before you, there's no illusion even with the suit that he's huge and the thought scares you.

The metallic hand in your hair pulls your head towards him and you obey, fear making you compliant. He smears himself against your lips, precum already leaking from his tip and laying warm on your face. He doesn't have to tell you to open your mouth, the rough tilting of your head is enough, and you hesitantly part your lips, flinching when he yanks you towards him. Your eyes involuntarily close when he shoves his cock in your mouth, he doesn't hold back, pushing himself as far in your throat as he can before you gag, your hands frenzied grabbing at the creature's hips. He pulls back for a moment before shoving back in repeatedly, forcing your jaw open to accept him each time.

He grunts, burying himself inside your throat and holding you still. "You'll have to do better than that, if you're scared of me hurting you." The snarl in his voice makes your eyes wide with realisation of what he wants. You obey without question, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him as good as you can, his grip relenting enough to let you. Swirling your tongue on the underside of his shaft with only the goal of getting this over with as soon as possible. It’s like he knows and the huge hand in your hair slows your movement, forcing you to take him slow and deep, revelling in the feeling of your hot mouth and the frantic way your eyes dart around.

The salty taste of his big cock stirs you, and each time he uses your mouth it makes your heat betray the pain of his brutal hold. It’s instinctual and even though your mind is against it your body is reacting. Trying to push the conflicting feelings from your mind you continue sucking, an eagerness spurring you on when he groans, he’s close, you can tell from the leniency in his grip. But just as you’re getting your hopes up that he’s going to finish, he pulls your lips from him, making you look up at the terrifying form above you. The sudden dread that sizzles through you is inexplicable, it’s almost as though you forgot how horrifying this costume was and the reminder shocks your core.

You look so frightened kneeling there, your pupils tiny and your lips still parted, saliva dripping down your chin that underneath the mask he smirks cruelly, the action painful enough to make his cock twitch. With how warm and slick your mouth was, he can only imagine how tight your little cunt is going to be, fuck it’s been so long since he last broke a pretty thing like you. He’s going to savour it.

“Stand up.” The monster commands, the raspy voice insanely harsh. You obey without question your legs trembling as all trace of hope leaves you, all chance of this ending any time soon trickled between your legs. As soon as you reach your feet his large hand grabs your shoulder shoving you forwards, back towards that old guard’s office you left only minutes ago, but it felt like years. Stumbling through the doorway, the brief idea of running flashes through your mind, but you’re too scared, you don’t want to make what this man was going to do worse.

You don’t have the chance anyway, with crazy strength he catches your arm, forcing your body down onto the desk in front of you. A pathetic whimper leaves your lips at the rough action, your whole body still shaking. Once he has you where he wants you, the creature’s huge hands rake over your body, no gentleness or intimacy in his touch, just pure malicious lust. He gabs at your breasts, fingers digging harshly into the sensitive skin, then roughly pulling up the fabric of your shirt, so roughly the material tears. You’d be cold if not for the raging adrenaline in your veins. At the sight of your naked torso the mascot bears down on you, no emotion in its dead eyes, “Such a stupid girl, coming here, getting yourself in trouble. Is this what you wanted, huh?” To punctuate the question he takes hold of your face, squeezing your cheeks so that you let out a shaky gasp.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling against the hold that was making your teeth hurt, but he doesn’t move an inch. At your silence he grabs your left tit pinching your nipple so hard your body raises from the desk to try and escape it. “Huh?” He snarls again. And you try to shake your head, but with no way to move you’re forced to speak.

“No-o.” Your voice cracks, your answer making the creature above you grind his cock against your thigh, the godforsaken suit preventing him from touching himself, his own unique fucking torture. His mocking spurs a sudden surge of fight and sees your legs rise and kick hard at his chest, the dull thud of striking metal echoing in the dark room. It’s useless, and his laughing is only proof. He holds your legs against his chest with one hand, using the other to tug down your legging and the panties you were wearing underneath, taking them completely from your body and discarding them on the dirty floor.

Looking down at your wet cunt he near growls, such a slick little fucktoy that walked right into his grasp. Cold metallic fingers trace over your entrance, pulling your folds apart to see the trembling of your hole, your unwanted wetness coating his fingers. You hate yourself for being aroused but maybe it’s for the best, maybe it’ll make this more bearable. You quiver when his digit pokes inside you the costume fingers large enough to stretch you open when he sinks in, you groan the invasion pressing against a coil in your core. Seeing how your pussy swallowed his finger so well, tight around him when he fucked it in and out made him pull away, needing his hands to hold your thighs down as he rubbed the head of his dick against your entrance. Desperate to feel the grip of your walls on one of the only parts of him that remained intact.

He shoves into you roughly, forcing your walls to accept him, all air in your lungs leaving in a suffered groan. He’s thick and long and pushing to the hilt you feel more than full, like he was taking you over, touching all of you at once. The stretch burned but the pain quickly dulled when he began rutting into you, a selfishly brutal pace that had you helplessly gasping. He fucks you as deep as the suit will allow him, the waist of the costume slamming into your hips so hard the desk thudded against the floor.

It’s like you’re outside of your body looking at the scene, feeling his hands move to lift your body from the desk, holding you and manipulating the angle of his pounding to suit him. Shoving into the part of you that makes you scream and your juices spill around the base of his cock. It doesn't feel real, but at the same time is brutally so an unwilling pleasure seizing hold of you and making you clench around his length. He groans,not stopping his pace as you begin to flutter around him, what a filthy fucking thing you are to enjoy this, he thinks, the thought making him fuck you harder. Forceful thrusts that quickly beginning to stutter as the monster nears his end, bursting inside you like an animal and stuffing you full of him. You’re dirty, used and broken, letting the cum seep around him, dripping down onto the desk.

He holds you still for what feels like hours before dropping you down onto the slick tabletop, leaving you to crumple on the floor. There’s no coherent thoughts in your mind, just a frightening emptiness as you get to your knees and crawl over to where he threw your clothes, hands shaking as you try to gather them up. He chuckles at your form, bruises already beginning to show on your hips and thighs, before slowly walking to you, a cold metal foot shoving you over, your body thudding into the floor.

“Now, where do you think you’re going?”

A/n: Here it is. My second Hallowe'en event, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I know this is very different to the kind of thing I usually write, but heck, why not try something new. X

Stay tuned for my third fic!

#fnaf #springtrap smut #springtrap x reader #springtrap x you #cw noncon #cw violence #cw murder #FWB's halloween event #william afton #william afton smut #william afton x reader #william afton x you

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pedge-page · 11 months ago

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Joel Dealing with Wife: The Duck Dilemma, Resolved

Joel Miller x F! Reader

not necessary to read but here's Part 1

Summary: Joel explores new ways to get the Ducks out of the Miller house once and for all

- - - -

When Joel wakes up, there's a blurred yellow fuzz thing—a fucking duck—standing on his chest, staring down its brown and yellow stained bill right along his own snout and directly into his soul.

"Dinner," he grunts with a sneer.

The little duckie utters an unbothered quack and hops off to the side. If only to its death over the cliff of his bedside edge. Only not so, for Sarah, who's standing by his side of the bed, scoops her up safely in her careful grasp. She leans on her tip toes and kisses Daddy on the cheek, and then holds the duck expectedly to his face with her big beady round baby eyes.

He grits his teeth, his chest grumbling with contained annoyance.

His daughter, the light of his fucking life, only leans closer to him, Duckie held high with expectant gleam. Letting out a quick sigh, he makes quick work to peck its fluffy little self on the forehead.

And one by one, he does so for all 6 ducklings she raises up to his lips carefully. He’s kissed more duck heads than he’s ever wanted to in his whole life now.

She sets the last one down on the floor and walks away, a trail of 6 duckies following her with their aide to side waddles.

How she and you came up with the names Eenie Meenie Miney, Pickles, Pringles, and Presto, he will never ask. They all look exactly the same but somehow Sarah can tell them apart.

Although, Sarah has called them EE, MEE, My, Picole, Pingle, Pwesto.

God Bless her.

“This one is Pringles—no wait that’s… that’s uh. Eenie? Wait Meenie?” You’re holding three in your arms, lifting them closely, trying to find the identifiable marks you’ve used as cheat sheet to remember them. Failing miserably.

“Pwesto!” Sarah clarifies, stomping her foot and taking her baby duck back into her arms. They always nibble at her ear lobes, causing the little child to erupt into giggles.

“She’s making it up, I swear. She doesn’t know which ones are which…” you whisper to Joel.

“Just admit you can’t keep track of your hoard of children you keep bringing into this house.”

You frown. “I want 12 more kids from you. So lift your skirt and get to baby stuffing,” you say snakily, slapping his ass.

He sips his coffee with massive bags under his eyes as two ducks sit on top of the stove.

Some thoughts, albeit as brilliant as they are, would get him sent straight to hell. Like the one swimming in his brain at the opportunity right now.

He glances to the left, then right, then slowly reaches for the gas igniting knob along the stove top. Directly below the unsuspecting ducklings…

Threatening growls come from the floor below. He rolls his eyes and backs off with his hand in the air to show retreat, as fearsome Mommy number 2 (3?) Spoon here comes to save the day.

“Ya used to be on my side, lady,” he hums to the dog.

And it’s true. Spoon didn’t know how to react at first. She went from single pet baby sitting a little girl to being swarmed by 6 freaky little two footed flap flaps, the weirdest looking puppies she’s ever seen. When they crowded and yapped incessantly around her, she kept picking her feet up and backing up to avoid them, but they all just kept coming at all angles all over. At one point from sheer curiosity, she hesitantly puts one in her mouth.

Sarah screamed at the top of her lungs and pointed to Spoon accusingly.

"Yes good Spoon! That's good girl!" Joel claps quietly. He knows you two wouldn’t blame innocent Spoon if she accidentally ate a duck or half dozen.

Unfortunately, Spoon does not like the sensation of the duck eating out her extra snack crumbs sitting in her teeth, instantly spitting the little guy out like a bowling ball. She jumps on the couch to avoid the rest, and they all flail helplessly trying to reach her.

By the next day, Joel prayed maybe Spoon decided she wanted a late night duck-goulash and had swallowed his 6 new problems. Instead, you found the ducks nested tightly against Spoon’s body, sleeping into her heated belly like her own little babies. "Cmon girl not you too,” Joel says, but Spoon growls at him when he tries to take them away. She doesn't mind when they yap and tap, just lies down with them peddling all over her body and head, sighing in defeat.

"Did we just make Spoon a mom of 6 overnight?”

Duck Duty has taken over the house 24/7.

When Joel goes to the shower, pulling back the curtain, there's duckies paddling in the tub.

He has to empty his shoes before stepping in them because, lo and behold, a damn duck is in there.

There’s more frozen pea bags in the freezer specifically labeled for each duck than he can fit his pizza pockets in there.

“THATS IT!” He barks loudly when you and Sarah are tucking the ducks in his bed sheets for a movie night.

You all, including Spoon and all the duckies, go quiet and look up.

Except, instead of finishing a statement, that is it. Joel storms out of the room the next moment, leaving you all sitting speechless.

Two seconds later you turn on the TV and all eyes focus on the screen to resume your movie night like normal.

Joel disappears in the garage for 3 days. You called Tommy asking if he was going to work, but Tommy told you he had called to let everyone know he would be unattainable for the weekend. Absolutely NO ONE was to disturb him. You could hear sparks and saw blades flying in the garage, heavy banging and all kinds of construction going on. Maybe you should be a little concerned. He hasn’t done anything else but this.

You rub your hands together, braving the knock on the garage door. Maybe you had gone too far with the ducks. Was he preparing to build himself a new house to live away from you all? A death trap for the ducks to fall into?

A new wife???

You tighten your ass cheeks and raise your knuckles.

The door swings open before you can pound. A sweaty, dirty, musky, saw dust covered Joel Miller, with messy slick hair, flannel and low hanging jeans complete with his decades old tool belt greeted you with gritted teeth.

“S’done,” he says plainly.

“W-what’s done?”

He takes your hand and leads you out. “Sarah! Ducks! Fall in!”

Sarah hops off her chair that she was braiding her doll’s hair. As she follows behind you, all 6 quickly growing Duckies follow behind her like a pre-school hand holding chain.

You all round out the now empty garage and towards the backyard gate. He opens it and shoves forward.

Part of the backyard and side of the house has been transformed into a Duck Oasis Paradise. A custom built duck house with heating lamps, fresh bedding and smoothed wood adorn the area, with a water fountain and splash pad of fresh water constantly rippling their own little Duckie pond/pool. Each duck has its own feeding station, and even custom bed slots with “Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Pickles, Pringles, Presto” hand painted for their own bunks. There’s a raised mini bed for Sarah to lie in with a canopy so they can cuddle and watch projector movies outside. Joel had even installed a side door that leads into the garage if absolutely need be they MUST come inside once again. Everything is painted to Sarah’s princess house liking, and she is able to sit inside the and play around the area while it maintains its Duck-necessities.

As if she had just met the real Santa Clause, Sarah screeches excitedly and runs around with the ducks to explore their new home.

Joel’s hands are on his hips, smirking proudly at your reaction.

Your mouth is on the floor. When the FUCK?? HOW the fuck??

“You thought I was gonna cook em’ didn’t ya?” He boasts.

“I —wushhshh pshhh—N--ta—nmmm-pshhh.” You don’t have words to try to deny it.

“Ah huh.” He points to his cheek … well, cheekily. “C’mere and give it ta me.”

Inserted, you grip his face, turn him to face you, and plant your entire mouth on his, swallowing his lips and his entire body if you could.

He grins and kisses you back.

“When are you going to put this much effort into putting another baby in me?” You tease while curling his hair.

He’s left quite shocked, and is about to suggest the two of you stow away while the kids are occupied until—

Sarah runs up like she’s about to pole vault and launches herself into her Dad’s arms for the biggest hug a todler can muster. Joel bends down to his knees to return her kisses.

And that would have been it, were it not for the duck that’s immediately in her hands, held right to his cheek.

“Ugh,” he groans with rolled eyes. He holds it all in as Sarah lifts them to nibble at his beard stubble in a duck fashioned kiss, each getting a turn to clean his facial hair.

You clasp your hands together, beaming at possibly the greatest man the earth had ever put out.

She runs off with the ducks following to go play with their new land.

“2 adults. 1 kid. 1 dot. And 6 ducks…” he says, referring back to your previous comment. “That ain’t enough for ya?”

“12.”

“12…?” Were you serious about 12 kids????

“Ducks,” you state plainly, avoiding his eyes.

“Wh—what, are they all pregnant?” He asks incredulously.

“No…” you lock your fingers together, sealing side to side in the way Sarah does when she’s admitting to doing something horribly wrong. “I thought you were going to eat these ones… and I didn’t want Sarah to be sad and so I … maybe… it’s actually really funny, Joel.”

“YOU BOUGHT—SIX—MORE—DUCKS???”

“Ohh oh no!” You shake your head, as if hoping to dissipate the steam billowing from his ears. Though it’s almost like he knows it’s not any better. “Um… it’s way worse… I bought 12 more ducks. So that’s 18 total,” you smile widely with fearful yet innocent eyes.

Joel sits straight up in bed, his heart hammering and sweat persperating along his entire skeleton. He clutches his heart, remembering to breathe in the night air, grounding himself in his surroundings from the nightmare. You’re sound asleep at his side, peaceful as ever.

He tosses the blanket and darts off to Sarah’s room. His girl sleeps just as innocently as you, with her teddy clutched under her arm. Lying atop her fuzzy pink decorative rug is Spoon, who raises her head curiously at the intrusion. He does a quick search, but nothing else moves in the room.

Joel runs to the backyard, foregoing any shoes. Despite no evidence in the house, he doesn’t get his hopes too high. He flips on the lights of the duck barn (which was not a dream), and braceshimself.

While he would have liked to have seen 0 flat footed peddling little yellow shits, a mere 6, and ONLY 6, ducks rest in their designated bed, tilting their head at him staring them down.

He wipes the sweat from his forehead and takes a relieving breath.

“Thank fucking duck.”

- - - -

Taglist : @harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @peekyourinterest

#joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fan fic #joel miller fluff #tlou fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fluff #last of us fic #the last of us fic #sarah miller #joel and sarah #joel dealing with preggo wife #joel dealing with sarah

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mazikeenhyde · 11 months ago

Text

Less than a Minute - Part 4 - Final

WARNING – 18+ ONLY – MINORS DNI

PLEASE UNDERSTAND THIS FANFICTION HEAVILY COMMENTS ON DEPRESSION & SUICIDE. This is your warning if you are easily triggered!

A Poly!Judgment-Day fanfiction containing themes and mentions of DEPRESSION, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, LONLINESS, PANIC ATTACKS, SMUT (GIRL-ON-GIRL), ANGST, SADNESS, ALCOHOL, HOSPITALS etc

READER X JUDGMENT DAY – POLY – Rhea, Damien, Finn, Dominik x READER- Written mainly in first person view (Reader Female)

Italic font – flashback, speech or memories

Word Count -4,167 +

Less than a minute – Part 4

04:40am – December 26th, 2023

“Fucking birds…” I muttered to myself as I dragged my feet to the bathroom. I had never been a morning person; I had never been one to leap out of bed at the crack of dawn and seize the day! And I certainly wasn’t the one who suggested we take a family trip out to the middle of nowhere to spend Christmas in the countryside where there were quite literally hundreds, no scratch that bloody thousands of God damn fucking birds singing in every bush, shrub and tree for miles. Not to mention that stupid fucking rooster from the local village farm that thought now was a great time to warm up its voice, clearly preparing itself for a debut at the local karaoke chicken barn.

“Stupid fucking birds cocka-doodl-fucking-dooing at stupid fucking four am in the fucking morning” I ranted quietly as I ran my toothbrush under the sink and started brushing my teeth. I could see my reflection in the mirror, what a sight! My hair looked like someone had dragged me backwards through a hedge to have their way with me, to be fair, that remark wasn’t too far from the truth. I dare not go downstairs for the fear of seeing the mess that needed cleaning up. Between the five of us we had polished off 4 bottles of champagne, half a bottle of vodka, two bottles of red wine and I don’t think I want to recount just how many tequila bombs Finn had magically made appear. And in turn we had all made disappear. Top the night off with a very…. messy? Group jacuzzi dip and hey presto, A hangover from Hell.

I could feel my head lightly spinning as I closed my eyes holding onto the wall for support whilst continuing to clean my teeth. I had become a pro at composing myself the morning after the night before, I knew the drill and how to stop it from getting any worse.

Brush Teeth

Pint of water

Pain killers

Close the door and avoid all human interaction for the foreseeable future

Swear to never drink again

Remind yourself these rules are a load of bollocks, and you never learn.

Christmas day had been incredible and the matching fleecy pyjamas we had all gone to bed in were the cherry on top. I mean they didn’t fully stay on for long… but it was the thought from Dominik that counted. Rhea and I in little candy cane vest top and shorts and the boys each with long legged fleecy trousers and t-shirts also printed with little candy canes. Too sweet for words and apparently far too irresistible to tear off each other.

I peeked my head out the bathroom window and smirked at the sight. Some abandoned pyjama pieces both inside and out the jacuzzi were all that remained out there of a very memorable, but fuzzy night. It was still dark out, but the sun had begun to make an appearance, so a very soft warming glow was ever so slightly lighting the horizon. The countryside really was beautiful in the winter, frosted windowpanes and a festive chill in the air really made it feel like Christmas… Well boxing day now.

As I continued to clean my teeth, I looked back at myself in the mirror pulling my hair into a messy bun.

There it was.

I could see it there… for a moment.

That pain hiding in my eyes.

I could see it.

I could feel it.

I had been running from it for some time now and I had hoped if I just pushed myself, if I focused and didn’t think about it, maybe it would go away. How naive I was to think life was ever that kind. Why was this happening, everything is good, everything was okay. I’m surrounded by love, by compassion, by happiness. This can’t be happening. But it was, it was happening.

The world around me began to fall, the room echoed away, and the bells began to ring. As if nothing existed around but me… and the fear.

I held the sink tightly, balancing the toothbrush between my teeth. “No…No…Come on... Come on” I whispered, gripping the basin tighter and taking a sharp short breath. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest, the pace ever growing and the room around closing in. Why was this happening. Why?!

I held back the tears that were threatening their escape and turned the cold tap on, spitting out the toothbrush and flushing my face with the water in attempt to ground myself.

Quickly turning I closed and locked the bathroom door behind me and ever so silently I slid myself down the door frame till I collapsed into a hunched ball on the cold tiled floor.

For an hour I sat there. Alone. In silence. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t move a muscle. I barley even blinked. I didn’t shed a single tear. As if I had dissociated from all reality, I felt as if I didn’t even exist. Did I want to exist?

------------------------------------------------------

As quickly as it came, it went. Standing to my feet I quietly unlocked the bathroom door and crept back into the bedroom. Sprawled out across a rather incredibly large king size bed lay a bundle of entangled limbs. Finn lay with one arm hanging off the bed and a Santa hat pushed back across his hair. Dominik’s head tucked up under his arm with one leg wrapped over Rhea’s waist and the other above the duvet. Hidden underneath the mullet was the dark locks of a miss Rhea Ripley whose black lipstick had been smudged down the side of her cheek. Smirking to myself I remembered having her face buried between my thighs under the Christmas tree while the boys played beer pong in the kitchen, unbeknown to them that us girls were sharing a little late ‘Christmas’ gift.

“Quickly!” Rhea said softly under her breath as she laughed taking my hand and sneaking away from the kitchen where Damien, Dominik and Finn had set up the dining table in order to begin a beer pong tournament. Slightly spilling our drinks in the hallway, we snuck our way into the opposing front room and closed the door behind us. The little cottage we had rented was a truly beautiful masterpiece, it stood in a huge field with no nearby neighbours. Exactly the kind of place you would want to escape to when you and your partners live life in the eye of the ever-nosey public view.

Rhea took my champagne glass from me and set it down with hers as well on the wooden unit before turning to face me. An ever so cheeky smile she grinned, showing off that enticing black lipstick and long lashes that had never failed to pull me into her grasp.

Running her right hand through my hair she raised her left hand and reached over trailing her fingers up my bare thighs, I shivered to her touch. Her grip tightened as she took a fistful of my hair and pinned me against the wall opposite a rather stupidly positioned Christmas tree. My breathe hitched in my throat as her lips positioned themselves mere millimetres from the dark red lipstick across mine.

“Hola Bunny….” Rhea spoke oh so softly, leaning across my chest and into my ear as she released her grip in my hair whilst moving my hands to position them above my head.

“Don’t. Move.” She stated and slowly she crouched down removing my shorts before throwing one of my legs over her shoulder and pulled my red laced panties to the side with her other free hand.

“Feliz Navidad” She smirked, winking up at me before rolling the cold stud in her tongue through the folds between my legs and planting a soft gentle kiss on my clit.

“Fuckkkk.” I whimpered, desperately trying to keep my hands above my head as her tounge moved back, ever increasing her speed as she caressed my sensitive bud between her teeth. Moving my leg slightly higher on her shoulder she slid two fingers inside of me and began to pump as her lipstick smeared its way across my wet pussy lips and I felt my legs shiver. Harder. Faster. With no mercy. Rhea was rough, her nails dug into my pale skin and her persistent tounge dug ever deeper, hunting down the orgasm she so desperately wanted across her face. A knot began building inside my stomach as the muscles in my thighs tightened and I shifted my weight onto her before gripping onto the first thing I could reach.

“Fuckk, Fuckk, Rhea... oh godd” I pleaded as my entire body tensed and a part of me panicked at the idea of losing this feeling if I couldn’t find my balance.

Pinning me against the wall with her hands, her face, her entire body weight even she gripped my one lose arm that had fallen from above my head to lock me in position whilst my other free arm had latched itself onto the Christmas tree for dear life, now no longer standing straight in its metal stand. The lights on it flickered on and off as we both shook, unable to hold our positions still.

Rhea pounded into my aching pussy with her fingers as her tounge stud bullied against me, I could feel the sweat begin to drip down my neck and into my cleavage as I panted, and my heart threatened to break from my chest. Rhea gripped my body so tightly tipping me over the edge and the orgasm she had worked so hard for spilled out across her face, ruining what was left of that perfectly placed lipstick liner.

The boys wouldn’t have actually ever known what we were up to if I hadn’t forgotten I wasn’t exactly standing with two feet on the ground. Instead relaxing for a moment, Rhea shifted her weight off me, and I went to move but ended up toppling the Christmas tree over on top of us.

A loud crash echoed through the cottage, along with the familiar sound of smashing baubles (a sound that came with a reminder from when we had once trusted Dom to unwrap the Christmas decorations, I reckon 8/10 of them he had either dropped, stood on, misplaced or knocked off the tree completely) and the fairy lights short circuiting from the plug coming out the wall.

The door flew open and in ran Finn and Dom who didn’t look half as shocked as Damien looked gutted to have missed out.

“Are you okay?!” Finn and Dom said in Unison.

“Where was my invite!?” Damien demanded looking down on a half undressed and slightly exposed me whilst Rhea ran her hand around her lips enjoying what was left from the actions from before and smirking towards the boys before winking at me.

----------------------------

Damien laid face down into the bed on his chest with his entire body laying ontop of the duvet, I wondered if he had passed out like that or if he just liked showing off his bright green and red stripped ‘Mr Grinch’ pants. Either way, that was one fine ass. The devil on my shoulders first word of thought was to bite down it, mark my territory you could say. But the ever-increasing hangover told me otherwise and the opposing angel buried that idea quickly. Had Damien put me across his knee for misbehaving I wasn’t entirely sure all the alcohol was going to stay down with the impact. Ever tempting as it may have been.

Instead seizing my opportunity, I gently tip toed over to the bedside and climbed over to position myself between Damien and Rhea. Snuggling myself under the duvet and into his embrace he was quick to join me and turn over taking in a deep inhale of my hair, kissing my head and quickly falling back asleep.

I wished we could have paused the clock there. Time could have stood still, and I could have never felt safer than in the arms of the four people who made my heart feel so full. Can’t have it all though can you, secretly I knew that. I knew that this was just the beginning of my downfall. I never would have known how bad it could have gotten.

Who knew when you hit rock bottom, there’s a basement that follows.

The sounds of the hospital filled every inch of the waiting room, the persistent beeps and alarms ringing from every was enough to drive anyone mad.

“For god sake, he was bought in by an ambulance no more than 20 minuite ago?! How can you not know where he is, that’s your job isn’t it!?” Finn slammed his fists down on the enquiry desk as an old miserable nurse stood staring at him.

“As I told your… “ the matron cleared her throat “Partner, we don’t have anyone here under the name Master Dominik Mysterio?”

“Christ, Gutierrez! Not Mysterio… idiota!” Priest shook his head before turning back to a recognisable figure walking towards them from the hallway.

“DOM!” Priest shouted as he grabbed Finn by the shoulder and they both rushed over as Damien grabbed the boy and pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Ow…” Dom whimpered as Finn lept into the hug.

“What the hell happened love!?” Finn pulled back grabbing Dom’s face, checking him over for any sign of injury or illness.

Dom shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, “I uhh, I” but he was interrupted by a doctor that was walking up behind him.

“Panic attack, as I was trying to explain to you Mr. Guiterrez before you demanded to leave ” the doctor looked up at the towering figure of Damien and smiled at the Irish man clinging onto the hand of his patient.

“Are you two his carers?” The doctor questioned

“Something like that…” Damien replied as Finn smirked.

“OI!” Dom said still rubbing the back of his head.

“Paramedics said that the hotel staff had found him unconscious in a hotel room, we believe he has hit his head as he had some concussion symptoms. But he’s refusing treatment, says he has somewhere he needs to be?” The doctor questioned them.

Finn’s phone pinged and pulling it out from his pocket he looked down to a message from Rhea.

“Not somewhere, were trying to find someone! And I’m fine, I don’t need looking after” Dom tried to explain.

“Dom, shh. Listen to the doctor” Damien interjected before Finn tapped him on the shoulder showing him the message from Rhea.

“What is it?” Dom asked trying to peer over Damien’s shoulder, quickly realising he wasn’t exactly tall enough.

“We have to go, Doc we take full responsibility for him, Scouts honour!” Finn stated and took Dom’s hand rushing out the door, Damien followed hastily behind.

“You need to….” The doctor called after them, but it was too late.

“Sign the discharge forms.” He sighed and put the clipboard down on the enquiry desk, raising an eyebrow at the nurse who had been dealing with Finn’s outburst.

“Men…” She stated and turning on her heels she walked off in a huff.

----------------------------------

A familiar voice bought me back to reality, those all to recognisable tears I had only heard once before. They sounded so broken, so heartfelt. It was Rhea. Holding me tightly on the steps of the city library where I had sought out the silent solitude it had always offered. If you cannot speak in the library, then no one could ask me what was wrong.

I had only ever heard her cry with such emotion once, losing her nonna had caused such a devastating blow to her and that pain never truly leaves you. The one time we as humans wished we could turn off that emotional switch and feel nothing at all.

I wish I could have felt nothing in that moment, because how I did feel was not fair to her. It wasn’t fair to any of them. It wasn’t fair to me, but I couldn’t hide that truth. it was how I felt.

I resented her. I hated her. Why was she here. Why had she found me. Why did I have to feel this way.

Throwing myself up and out of her arms I lept into the dark street and stared back at the bewildered face of the woman I had grown to devote myself to. I couldn’t see a way to live my life without her, without any of them. My heart would never truly love anyone again the way the love for them I had, fed into my soul. I depended on them for my survival.

“Bunny please...” Rhea lept to her feet standing just a few feet from me in the road, reaching out her arm, hand outstretched. Her voice breaking from the cold and fear as she went to speak again but I interrupted her. It was as if something inside of me set off the dynamite that tore down the walls I had built up for so long and every last piece of vulnerability drowned the streets around us, refilling the puddles that had saturated the roads.

“NO! STOP! Please Rhea! No, shit no! Why!? Why are you here! Why can’t you understand!? CHRIST. WHY DOESN’T ANYONE UNDERSTAND!” I screamed and ran my hands over my face and through my hair clawing at my neck. I could barely breath, my lungs were on fire, my chest so tight. My entire body was soaked to the bone and frozen. Lips chapped and sense of reality fading fast. The anxiety inside me was fuelling a fire that was quickly spreading out of control.

“I want to…” Rhea tried to reason with me, her voice soft, fragile.

“I want to understand, Y/N please, just, talk to me. We can work this out, you and me. Just us… Look…” She turned her head signalling the space around us.

“It’s just you and me. It’s okay…” She spoke gently taking a step towards me.

That Panic set in.

“Don’t you fucking come near me, don’t you… don’t you fucking come near me!” I screamed. She didn’t deserve this; she had shown me nothing but love. Yet I had no control over it anymore. Like a tornado destroying everything in its path, this storm was out for blood.

“CHRIST, what is wrong with me! What is wrong with this world, what is wrong with this… this fucking, this bullshit! Everyone on it, no one understands. It’s like a prison… I feel, I feel like. Like I can’t breathe!” I grasped at my chest backing further away from her. As if a thousands rubber bands wrapped around my lungs, I was suffocating.

“Talk to me bunny, just talk to me. Whatever it is, we can fix it?” Rhea begged, she tried to reason with me.

I stared at her blankly. I knew this was going to hurt.

Fuck it.

“It’s you.” I said.

Cold.

Blunt.

To the point.

“It’s all of you.” My words were empty. As empty as I felt.

Rhea had nothing, no words. Nothing to say, no way of understanding why it was like this.

I had broken down, I couldn’t hold back the heart ache, the tears, none of it. I was an empty shell of myself, and every emotion poured out with every word.

“Every day. Every day I wake up, every day I wake up and I have to live. I live my life and then I go to sleep. Every day I am surrounded by the love you all give; I am surrounded by the happiness and the joy and the compassion that is gifted in the promise and security of the devotion we have for each other. The smiling faces of people passing by on their way to their boring jobs, their boring families, to pay their shitty boring rent. I stand here now knowing all this, knowing I am privileged to be living a life filled with more love in every second of every day than most people see in a lifetime.” I fell to my knees, unable to bear the weight of the world on my shoulders anymore.

“So why is it that every day when I open my eyes, when I look in the mirror, when that second of silence between a conversation hits, the first thought in my head, is how long is left?” I gritted my teeth, pouring out my heart to the world.

“Is it wrong to hate you, to resent you all so much. I feel such spite. I despise the love you all have for me because selfishly, I know, I know I can’t stop. I can’t kill myself. I can’t kill myself because that wouldn’t be fair. Not to you, not to the boys, not to my family or friends. The most important decision of my life and I don’t even get to make it” I looked up at Rhea with blood shot eyes.

“I don’t want to be unhappy anymore. I don’t want to be here, but I don’t have a reason to feel this way, and I don’t know why I do.”

Rhea threw herself to the floor around me and pulled me in tightly, I felt the bones in my back click and my chest restricted as her grasp tightened around me to the risk of never being able to let go.

No matter what now, she was never letting go.

I didn’t fight her anymore. Id given up fighting it.

Instead, I shielded myself in her embrace. Kissing the top of my head Rhea rested her chin on me, despite both being frozen I could feel her warmth breaking through.

“Y/N...” Rhea gently spoke looking deep into my eyes.

“That’s called being Human. And its shit. Its fucking shit, it’s unfair and its cruel. That’s why you don’t hide this away. You don’t try and fight a war all by yourself. You are more loved than you will ever know bunny! And whether you want it or not, its there. It will always be there, and we will always be here.”

Rhea took her hands around my face and pulled me in, so our foreheads connected.

“Were in this together, you and me. All of us. The boys too. Remember bunny, It’s not for forever. It’s just for now.”

As if something clicked, something unexplainable. Something spiritual in the moment, the world disappeared from around us, every element meant nothing except the two of us. Right there, the most important moment for us in all of time and space.

“You just keep going, for just one more minuite.” Rhea whispered under her breath.

For a moment it felt like time stood still, and the world had fallen silent in the honest truths that had been spoken.

Not for long though, for the sound of silence was broken by screeching tyres. Headlights illuminated our silhouettes and as if from out of nowhere a large rental truck slammed its brakes on coming to a stop.

The car door flew open and out fell Finn, scrambling to his feet he stood up with one hand on the door as his eyes widened, mixed with relief and with fear. His eyes were bloodshot, red and exhausted.

“Y/N?” he sounded shocked.

Rhea turned her head to face him and smile, but that relief on her face quickly changed to confusion.

“Finn? Where’s Damien? Where’s Dom?”

He didn’t answer her. Standing in silence as if he didn’t know how to respond to a question he very well knew the answer to.

I turned my head to face him, looking around for two people who weren’t there.

“Finn?” I looked up at him, trying to hide the worry in my eyes.

Letting out a gentle sigh Finn smiled and turned his back around as the back passenger door to the truck opened slowly as Damien stepped out, gently removing a sleeping Dominik from his lap and resting the boy against the car seat. He leant against the car door smiling at the two of us sitting in the middle of the road.

Rhea turned her head to face me and pulling my viewpoint to hers she looked deep into my eyes.

“Come on Bunny, Let’s go home”.

“Home?” I questioned her.

“Home.” She smiled, “We are going home.”

#the judgement day #the judgment day #tjd x reader #the judgement day x reader #the judgment day wwe #the judgment day x reader #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley #damian priest x reader #damian priest #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #finn balor x reader #finn balor #wwe #wwe raw #poly!judgement day #black fem reader #wwe x reader

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