#DAMIEN | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hedoublehell · 3 months ago

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BATHROOM

Damien Haas x f!reader

Damien. You. Bathroom. Fuck it.

SMUT -- 18+ ONLY!!!

Warnings: p in v, oral (male receiving), degradation kink, praise kink, spanking, dom/sub, dom!Damien, possessive!Damien sir/master kink, public sex, unprotected sex

Tags: @pedropascallme

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The blast of the bass vibrates the building while you exit the Uber. Loiterers are huddled in a group outside of the venue, cigarette smoke filled into your lungs as you walk up to the bar. With a flick of your ID and a toothy smile the bouncer waved you in, pushing the door open with a haphazard nudge.

Lights flashed in the small space, illuminating the crowd of fellow people attempting to escape the realities of life for a while. As your eyes flick over the space, a familiar shade of silver stands out from the rest. For a second you stay back, unable to pry your eyes off of blissfully unaware man. A silk black long sleeve is stretched across his frame, allowing for the natural contours of his biceps and shoulders to be on full display while still being covered. He’s turned to face Shayne, who’s nursing something in a small glass. Both of them have smiles plastered across their faces, eyes slightly closed as their bodies shake with laughter. Your chest tightened at the sight; he’s so beautiful, even under the harsh strobes of the night life.

Slowly you make your way over, weaving yourself through the jiving bodies. Finally your eyes catch a glimpse of him again, your hand stretched out to reinforce the path that has opened up. After what feels like forever, your fingers grazed across his shoulder blade, announcing your arrival. Damien turns at the new pressure, his face lighting up at the realization it’s you behind him.

“You made it!” He cheered, slinging his arm around your shoulders. His bicep feathered across your bare skin, goosebumps standing in its wake.

The others throw their glasses up in acknowledgement of your presence, their voices muddling in a slew of shouts over the music. A smile paints itself across your face as you stand there, Damien’s arm still weighing on your shoulders. In the corner of your eye you spot his eyes wandering up and down the thin red fabric draping over your frame. You know it clings to your curves in all the right ways- you made sure of that before walking out of the house- and the way Damien’s scan briefly hesitates on the plunging neckline signals that it was the right choice. The intensity in his gaze warms your body as you fight to maintain your composure. Act cool.

In direct defiance of your own orders, you turn to face him. Blue and purple lights dance off of his face, enhancing the natural highlights and shadows of his facial features. He’s looking down at you, his pupils dilated- whether from the influence or his enjoyment of the view you don’t know.

“Hi,” you mime, eyes meeting his.

He returns the welcome, his face falling into a smirk at the end of the syllable. You both stand there for a second, soaking in the physical contact. A level of intimacy washes over your bodies as the silk of his shirt rubs against the skin of your upper back. For a second, lust tightens your core, but quickly you push it aside.

Damien dressed up was not something out of the ordinary, god knows how many times you’ve clubbed together, but you were never fully prepared for your body’s reaction to it. The breath in your lungs always seemed to flee at the sight of him in patterned pants and a tight shirt; they always managed to fit him perfectly, as if they were sewn onto his body. It seemed so effortless, too. His silver strands were rarely styled, often falling onto his face as the night dragged on, which caused him to have to continuously push it back, giving you a full view of how his chest expanded with the movement of his arm. Each time he did it, his eyes briefly flickered shut while his neck arched back to allow himself the right angle to mess it up. And each time you wondered if his eyes would flutter the same way while you pleased him. Nothing would beat that sight, except if he was naked as well.

As if the DJ could hear your internal dialogue, the familiar beat of your favourite song began to pump throughout the club. Reality came crashing back while excitement lurched through your body, making you untangle yourself from Damien and immediately taking off to the dance floor. The heat of movement enveloped you as you pushed further into the crowd, looking for the perfect place to set up. A relatively empty space in the far corner of the floor called out to you, and you eagerly filled it up. Progressively, the rhythm of the song embedded itself inside you, your heartbeat becoming one with the bass as you began to let yourself go. Subconsciously your hips swayed, the red fabric of your dress remaining glued to the curve of your ass as you moved it to the beat. Your eyes close slightly as you fully let yourself go, the music blasting over any thought that attempts to cross your mind.

After the week you had, this is what you needed– a dressed up Damien and a dancefloor.

Looking up, you turn your attention back to where you left your fellow castmates. Everyone has scattered throughout the building, except for Damien, who is standing there, his eyes glued to the lower half of your body. Even through the flickering lights and the dense crowd, you could see the paleness in his knuckles clenching the bottle. He must be really worried about someone knocking it out of his hand.

As you turn to look away, his eyes interlock with yours. An unfamiliar sparkle briefly glints in Damien’s eyes before he blinks it away, replacing it with the gentle sheen that you’re used to. With a wink you turn back around, letting the music absorb you once again while erasing the thoughts of Damien. There was no point in pining over a man that only sees you as a friend, especially while in a crowd of people looking to head home with someone. It wouldn’t be the first time you tried to fuck away your feelings for him.

After dancing for a while, the sting of thirst introduced itself to your lips. Groaning, you weave yourself through the bodies in an attempt to relocate the bar. Once you pull yourself through the edge of the dance floor, you beeline for the illuminated granite countertop, desperate for any form of liquid. The bartender, a 30 year old man with a black mullet and aviators, eyes you as you waddled up, sensing the need radiating off of you.

“What can I get you?” He asked once you reached him.

“A vodka redbull please.” You pant, hand already searching in your purse for your loose credit card.

Before you manage to fish it out, an arm slithers out behind you and gently taps a credit card to the machine.

“Consider it a gift,” the unfamiliar voice whispers, “or maybe an offering.”

A lightning bolt struck your core as weight pressed into your back. With your newly acquired drink in hand, you shift your body to face the gifter.

He’s handsome– scruffy black hair frames his face, ending where his stubble begins. Shoulders are broad, emphasized by the tightness of his white tee. A smirk is painted across his face, eyes glossy with alcohol. Drunken excitement rekindles the fire in your heat as you absorb every inch of the man in front of you. While he’s not Damien, the confidence radiating from him voids that almost instantly. Maybe he will be it, the man that finally fucks your thirst for Damien out of you. Maybe this time you won’t have to bite your lip in an attempt to not whine Damien’s name while your cunt pulsates around another man’s cock. Shit, you haven’t even seen Damien in at least an hour, so who cares anymore? Might as well get some use out of your new dress.

“Thank you. I was getting thirsty, it’s so hot in here.” You smile, the straw of your drink taking purchase in the corner of your mouth.

The nameless man wordlessly steps forward, closing the gap between you two. Whiffs of smirnoff and berries dance around him as he leans closer, his mouth aligning with your ear. Before a word manages to escape his lips, he’s gone.

“Hey, that’s my girlfriend! Get the fuck off of her, man!”

The familiar pitch of Damien’s voice vibrates your chest as he pushes the man off of you. Without another word he scurries away, leaving you and Damien. The flashing lights overhead emphasize the heaving in his chest, highlighting the subtle definition found in his pecs with each breath. Confusion knots your stomach as you look up at him.

“What the hell, Damien? Since when am I your girlfriend?” Mindlessly, you throw your hands against his shoulders in an attempt to shove him away. “You barely speak to me all night, or any night out for that matter, and suddenly you think you have claim over me? That’s not how this works.”

His fingers lock around your wrists, the chipped nail polish on his fingers scratching the surface of your inner forearm. A moan threatens to escape your lips at the sudden contact, but the anger in your belly shrivels it up before it manages to leave.

“I can’t do this anymore.” An unknown gleam flickers in his eyes as he gazes down at you, unflinching.

“Do what?” You mutter, an exasperated sigh following the last syllable.

“I can’t go around anymore pretending that I’m okay with you going home with all these different guys. I mean- well- I am, because you are your own person and it's your choice, but that's besides the point. I want you. So. Fucking. Badly. If anyone is taking you home tonight while you’re in that fucking little tight red dress, it’s me. Got it?” By the time he’s done his lips are ghosting your ear, the warmth of his breath sliding down your neck.

Desire slicks your thighs almost immediately as his words reverberate through your mind. All other noise muffles as it plays over and over as you just stare at him, mouth slightly agape. The warmth of his hands around your wrists becomes the only thing tethering you to reality as his words sink in. Damien. Wants. You.

Suddenly, his hands move from your arms to your waist, coldness lingering where his digits used to be. You feel the subtle weight of each of his fingers through the thin fabric. His fingers gently flex around your waist, bringing you to your feet. Once again, his face lowers down to your ear.

“Now show me those dance moves you were doing earlier.”

Weaving through the sea of bodies, you find yourself in the same spot that you claimed earlier. Damien trails behind you, his hand tucked tightly in yours. With a quick turn on your heels, your gaze meets his. A wave of lust washes over you as your eyes remain fixed on his darkened pupils. Slowly, your hips begin to sway to the beat of the music. Damien remains planted, fixated on the way the strobe lights reflect off of the glitter buried in the red fabric.

Without a second thought your hand extends to his, forcing him out of his daze.

“Who said you just had to watch, Damien?” You whisper into his ear, letting your breath linger on his neck.

Immediately his body is against yours, his chest warming your bare back. The soft silk of his shirt brushes against your skin as his hands trail down to your hips, his fingers digging into your plush flesh. A moan falls from your lips as you subconsciously push your ass into his crotch, the bulge of his cock pressing against the curve of your cheeks. With each flick of your hips, a sharp groan escapes the man behind you. Ignoring the growing slickness between your thighs, you continue to dance against him, only focusing on the way his body responds to yours.

Through your peripheral, you catch a glance of Damien. His silver hair is unruly, strands sticking up in every direction as if he’s been pushing it up every few seconds. His eyelids are slightly closed, and pupils are glossed over with lust as he continues to rock against you. If only clothes weren’t in the way.

Sharply, you turn to face him. With a blink, the lust in his eyes is replaced with confusion as his posture fixes itself. Your hand gently curls around his wrist, letting your fingers linger as you step into the space between you. Your free arm slithers around his neck, bringing his face down to yours.

“Kiss. Me.” It comes out more as a plea than a request, but even with the bone-vibrating music blaring around you Damien manages to understand.

His lips ram into yours, a faint taste of Coca Cola coating your tongue as it works its way into his mouth. Moans spill out from both of you as desire takes over. His body begins to grind into yours as his hands find their way into your hair, interlacing his fingers into your locks. Your pussy pulsates as his cock brushes against your inner thigh with each swipe of his hips. Need soaks your panties, engulfs your thoughts. The only thing that matters right now is Damien, and how his hands feel better than any of the times you pretended yours were his.

His teeth tug on your lip, gently bringing it down before letting it go to reconnect it to his. His fingers ghost along your sides before finding purchase on your ass, giving it a hearty squeeze as his hips gently buck into yours.

“Jesus,” he whimpers as he continues to grind against you, “I have been wanting you for an ungodly amount of time.”

“Then have me, baby. I’m all yours.” You coo, littering kisses down his neck.

Suddenly he pushes you off him, immediately interlacing your hand in his. He begins to drag you behind him as he zigzags off the dance floor. Mindlessly you follow, lust overriding any questions you may have as to where he’s taking you. A neon sign reading ‘BATHROOMS’ flashes above the narrow hallway. Damien continues down the corridor of single-person bathrooms, only stopping at the last one on the right. With a kick, the door squeaks open, and he pulls you in behind him. A subtle click of the lock causes reality to come crashing in.

Damien. You. Bathroom.

Fuck it.

Immediately, you find yourself pinned to the door. Damien’s forearms frame your face as he locks his gaze with yours. The weight of his presence overwhelms your senses, sending flames to your core. Hungrily, his lips connect to yours. The sloppy, open kisses become littered with moans as his right hand finds its way to your breast, gently cupping it. Palming your tit, his index and thumb catch your nipple. Slowly, he twists it between his two digits, it stiffening with his repetitive movements.

In response, your hands wander to his waist, landing at the hem of his silk shirt. Even under the dim lighting the fabric highlights the peaks and valleys of Damien’s mass. A gentle grunt escapes with your exhale as your pinkie drags along the exposed skin between his plaid pants and shirt. The ripple of his muscles dances against the tip of your finger as his hips shift lower, causing your digit to slip underneath his waistband.

“Fuck,” Damien breaks his lips from yours, his mouth now seeking purchase on your neck, “you’re going to undo me, slut.”

The bulge of his stiffening cock brushes against your exposed thigh, sending shockwaves to your clit. No longer did you have to rely on other men to fuck Damien’s name off your lips, or use a vibrator to seek out pleasure with images of him flashing through your mind. This was the real thing, he was the real thing.

“Let me undo you, please.” You subconsciously whine aloud, both hands now hooked on his waistband as his tongue explores the nape of your neck.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Damien grunts, “show me what I know you can do.”

Before he gets out the last syllable, you're on your knees, desperately tugging at his underwear and pants. With a huff, they fall down to his feet. His cock springs up in freedom, the pink tip gleaming with pre-cum. The sight of it alone leaves your thighs slick with need, your clit pulsating with anticipation.

Gingerly, you raise your hand to his shaft, loosely taking hold of it. Glancing up at Damien, his eyes are glued to each of your movements, appetite glistening in his pupils.

“You can do it baby, I know you can,” he coos, interlacing his digits in your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail.

Your mouth quickly latches onto his tip, your tongue leisurely drawing circles around his slit. Your hand follows suit, unabashedly stroking his cock. Praises spill out of Damien’s mouth as you continue to work, progressively losing yourself in the sound of spit, moans, and the bass of the club music leaking through the walls.

“S-so good, what a good whore you are.”

In response, you swallow his cock to the base, hollowing your cheeks as it hits the back of your throat. Tears begin to swell in your waterline, threatening to spill with each second you keep him there, but you ignore them. Slavia dribbles down your chin as you gag as Damien thrusts his hips, pushing his shaft deeper. His gaze connects with yours, his eyes glossy with satisfaction as his mouth falls open, a symphony of groans slipping from between his lips.

“Holy shi-t. Let me fuck you before I cum, princess.” He chuckles through a groan, snaking his arms underneath your armpits.

With a gentle tug and a spin you find yourself leaning against the sink, the coldness of the porcelain seeping through your dress. You glance into the mirror, your reflection staring back as spit and tears collect at your chin. Streaks of red lipstick paint your cheeks, chin, and the tip of your nose.

“Admiring how beautiful you are after a face-fucking?” Damien growls, entering the reflection.

“Ye-yes sir.” You whimper, eyes connecting with his in the mirror.

“Good,” Damien’s hands slide up the curve of your ass, his thumbs collecting the fabric of your dress, “because we’ve only just started.”

Damien slides your panties down your thighs before letting gravity do the rest of the work to get them to the floor. A soft moan rumbles from his chest as admires your dripping, bare cunt. Gingerly, he raises his index finger to your slit, letting your juices soak the tip before bringing it back to his mouth. His tongue dances along his digit, lapping up any trace of you on his skin.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you taste so fucking good, princess.” He sighs, finger still in his mouth.

“Now imagine how good I must feel.” You retort, jiving your ass against his bare thighs.

His hands immediately shoot to your hips, his fingernails marking crescent moons into your flesh.

“If that’s how you want to play, whore, you could’ve just told me.”

An unfamiliar weight presses against your lower back, its wetness sending shivers down your spine.

“Say please.”

You groan, pressing your thighs together in anticipation.

“P-ple..please.” You sputter, arching your back further and reconnecting your look with Damien’s in the mirror.

Without a second to process, fullness overwhelms your senses as Damien haphazardly thrusts into you. Each centimetre of his cock stretches your cunt as thank you’s spill from your lips over and over again in tempered moans.

“What a good whore you are for me,” he grunts, his tongue ghosting down your spine as he continues to fuck you into the sink.

Your eyelids flutter shut as the feeling of Damien’s shaft overrides every nerve in your body. Each shove of his hips smashes your hip bones into the porcelain in front of you, sending satisfactory pain down your spine. Without a doubt there will be bruises in the morning, but they’ll only serve as proof that isn’t some alcohol-fueled sex dream. Soft whimpers roll from your mouth as you push back into Damien’s back in a desperate attempt to get more of him inside.

“Look at me while I’m fucking you.” Damien growls, his thumb and his index wrapping around your chin, shoving it upwards.

Your eyes snap open in response, your stare landing on the single piece of silver hair dangling in front of Damien’s right eye. The tip of it points directly at his lips, which are pulled into an unruly smile, his canines on full display.

“There you go, baby. Let me see those beautiful eyes while I fuck tears into them.” A strangled moan rumbles through you in response, unable to get any proper words out as Damien completely bottoms out inside you, his balls pressing against the inside of your thighs.

“You were so talkative before I brought you in here,” he coos, “what happened, whore? Too busy focusing on my cock to think of a sarcastic comment?”

Another moan escapes between your quivering lips as he removes his hand from your chin, using it instead to lay a sharp smack on your bare ass. A stinging sensation ripples throughout your cheek as he thumbs the reddened skin. Tears dance along your waterline, threatening to spill over.

“My poor slut, all she can think about is dick.” He chuckles, glancing down at where you two connect. “My dick.”

“Yes s–sir,” you manage to choke out, “better than how I imagined.”

His eyes flicker back up to yours in the reflection, a new brightness lighting his gaze.

“You actually thought about this?” His voice flooded with shock, his dominant persona momentarily faltering. You nod frantically.

“All the time, Damien. All. The. Fucking. Time. Pretended other cocks were yours. Pretended my hands were yo–yours. H–have always wa…wanted you.” You pant, grinding your ass against him, the hair on his upper-thighs gently prick the sensitive flesh of your back-half. “None of them come close.”

Once again, his gaze darkens.

“Tell me more.”

Flashes of one night stands paint your memory as Damien continues to haphazardly buck his hips against your ass, your train of thought restarting with each smack of his skin against yours.

“Tried to fill my want with other people, but nothing c-could replace you,” a whimper escapes as the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy spot in your core, “no one could fuck it out of me.”

Wetness spills over your waterline, falling onto your cheeks as Damien repeatedly drills against your g-spot. Before tightness could grasp your core, emptiness replaced the overwhelming sensation that was him inside you. With a swift twist of your hip, Damien shoves you on top of the sink, his face mere inches from yours. This close you could see the light spattering of freckles across his cheeks from the LA sun, even in the shitty bathroom lighting. God, was he beautiful, even as a bead of sweat danced down his right eyebrow. His eyes were wild, pupils dilated with desire as he subconsciously spread your legs with his hips.

“Please let me kiss you,” he whines, his lower lip slightly jutting out.

A nod was all you were able to muster before he attacked your lips, his tongue immediately finding a home within your mouth. Traces of coke lingered as he swept it across your teeth, a moan emanating from your throat as he teased you. The now familiar weight of his cock rests against your inner thigh, causing you to sway your hips with need.

“Can’t stand you not being inside me, sir. Plea-”

His cock reenters your heat, stretching your walls as he spears you to the hilt.

“Don’t need to ask me twice, baby girl. Especially not while you’re in that fucking dress.”

Damien arbitrarily sucks at the exposed skin of your neck, leaving red marks in his wake as he continues down to your chest. Gingerly he loops his tongue around your nipple, sucking at the hard flesh in beat with his sloppy thrusts. The bass of the club music echoes throughout the enclosed space, giving Damien a rhythm to follow as you progressively re-lose yourself to the feeling of him buried deep.

The subtle buzz of climate begins to knot itself in your lower stomach as your body moves in tandem with his. Slick dribbles down your bare thigh, a few rogue drops landing on the porcelain underneath your cunt. As your desire tightens around the fullness, Damien’s cock hardens even more with each subsequent slam of your pussy. You can tell he’s close, and you’re not far behind him as he pushes you further onto the sink, shifting the angle where his shaft skims along your clit with each exit and reentry.

“D-Damien. Oh my fucking… god…!” Your back arches in response to his new pace as he becomes frantic as if he’s trying to milk every ounce of pleasure from your cunt.

With one last snap of his hips, your mind goes blank as every part of your body but your pussy becomes numb. All you can feel is Damien, and the orgasm that has been literal years into the making. Desperately you claw into his back as you make a frenzied attempt to ride the high as long as possible. Gentle sobs escape your lips alongside moans of his name as you feel the sting of overstimulation dance along the tips of your nerves. But you couldn’t care less.

With one deep groan, heat rushes through your body as Damien reaches his own climax. His hands rest on your thighs, his fingernails leaving crescent moon divots in your flesh as he grounds himself into you. With one final thrust, his cock empties into you.

Through your eyelashes you catch the beauty of Damien mid-orgasm. His eyelids remain half closed as he progressively slows down. Sweat dampens his hairline, his skin glistening in the bathroom fluorescents as a toothy grin spreads across his face in pleasure. It was better than you could have ever imagined.

Gently, Damien exits your opening, leaving a trail of cum in his wake as he leans over the counter to grab a wad of toilet paper.

“If this was at home I promise the aftercare would be better.” He laughs, dabbing the milky substance off of your inner thigh.

“Well obviously you would use 4-ply instead of 2-ply to clean up the river of potential children leaking out from me.” You quip back, reaching over your back to quickly wet the corner of one of the wads of shitty paper.

“Of course darling, you deserve nothing but the finest toilet paper for the post-sex cleanup.”

While turning back you manage to catch his gaze. The familiar gleam has returned to his brown irises, the same one that would glisten when you would take the longer route to your desk in the morning to wave a quick hello to Damien while he walked to set, the same one that he would give you when showing you a meme that made him think of a conversation you shared two weeks prior, the same one that you could now find the word for. It was excitement. Excitement to see you, excitement to be with you, excitement that he could prove to you that you were known.

Without a second thought you leaned in, gingerly pressing your lips to his. Immediately he returned the gesture, softly placing his palm against your cheek.

“We should get back out there before anyone notices we disappeared,” you whisper against his lips, your words just barely audible over the thumping bass of the shitty club music.

“For all they know we could have just gone home.”

His hand weaves into your hair, his fingers gently cradling the base of your neck.

“This was much better than just going home and pretending my hand was you.” Absent-mindedly, you lean into his touch, craving the warmth of his skin.

“I’m glad. At least you have a memory instead of a dream for next time.”

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