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take-taker-taken · 3 months

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Can I get a ABA!Taker with small reader, (im 5'0 without shoes lol) (male pref) where he works with taker and accidentally injures him during a match and taker takes him in the locker room?

Kinks: daddy kink, dry humping,dumbification, spanking maybe?

Hey, hey, Anon! Here’s your fic! No title I’m afraid because I struggle with those. Also have to give props to Randy Orton for the inspiration of Taker getting hurt. Hope you enjoy!

Untitled

“Me? You’re sure?”

“That’s what he said. That he likes what he’s seen and thinks you deserve a push.” The exec stands up and so you get to your feet as well before reaching out to shake his hand.

“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate the opportunity.”

You leave the office in a bit of a daze at what’s just taken place. At first you’d been petrified that they were going to fire you and so to be told that none other than the Undertaker wants to work with you… Whoah. Immediately after leaving the room you set about trying to find him so that you can thank him personally - he’s an old school guy and so you know he would consider that the proper way to do things.

After psyching yourself up a bit, you knock on his dressing room door and hear a lazy, “Yeah?”

You open the door a little and peer around it, scanning the large room until you see the man himself sprawled on a couch watching some sports on a TV. He looks around and a slow smile creeps over his face. Not unkind, exactly, but… you can’t quite place it. You stand awkwardly at the door because truth is… well, he’s freakin’ hot.

“It’s the new kid!” He says and waves you over. “Come on in, boy.”

You step in and close the door behind you, trying to ignore the fact that he’s already unintentionally hit on one of your kinks - hearing him call you ‘boy’, and with that accent... You pause for a second as you suppress a shiver and then remind yourself that he’s probably not going to appreciate some timid little newbie hovering in the corner. You need to be polite and respectful, but confident and so you walk over until you’re only a few feet away. Damn, he’s a big guy.

“Sir, I wanted to stop by and say thank you. The office just told me that you asked about us doing a short program together because you thought I deserved a push. Coming from you, that’s a huge compliment sir, and a great opportunity. I really appreciate it, thank you.”

Taker sits up a little bit straighter, his black Harley Davidson t-shirt pulling tight across his chest and he nods. “Respect, that’s good - I like that.”

Like his smile earlier, there’s something in his tone that you can’t place but you do feel yourself blush slightly. Trying to cover it you clear your throat and shrug. “Well, yeah - you’re the locker room leader, so I figured -”

“You figure right.” He says, pointing at you with his first two fingers. “I’m the daddy.”

Oh god. You swallow and start willing your dick not to get hard as you gradually back away. “I’ll uh, I’ll leave you alone now. Thank you again. Sir.”

He gives you a nod. “You got it, kid. We’ll catch up and go over some spots next week some time.”

He turns his attention back to the TV and so that’s you dismissed. You turn and leave the room, unable to shift the image of his shirt stretched tight across his chest and biceps as he gave you that smile. What was that? You decide to head to the gym and get a workout in, but find that his voice calling himself ‘daddy’ echoes around your head all day.

————————

Match day rolls around and you pace nervously in gorilla and then you turn and nearly walk smack into him. You look up - all the way up, because he has nearly two feet of height on you and you know that fear is written all over your face.

“Calm down, kid. We’re gonna go out there and tear it down, OK?” He rests one huge hand briefly on your shoulder and you glance down at it and then back up.

“Yessir.”

He nods and gives you a nudge towards the curtain as the announcer starts the spiel for you and then your music kicks in and you head on through and down to the ramp. You have a small following and of course you’re going to lose but this is the biggest match of your career so far and so you do you best to get out of your head and play up to the crowd as you reach the ring. The cheers for you die down and then Taker’s music hits and the roof comes off. It’s been decided that the ramp is too short for his bike and so he saunters down to the ring while you wait on him, trying your best not to look as intimidated as you are.

“It’ll be fine,” you tell yourself. “He’s a safe worker. One of the best. He wanted this match.”

He steps in and pulls the audience into continuing their worship as he works his way around the squared circle. Then it’s time. You step up close - you’d be touching chests if it wasn’t for the height difference - and stare up into the deadliest pair of eyes you’ve ever seen. A sneer curls his lip as he stands with his hands on his hips, staring right back down at you. You know that to the watching public it probably looks ridiculous but then the bell goes and it’s game on.

You lock up, so much as that’s possible but he soon sends you sprawling to the floor, which you use as an opportunity to showcase some agility. The match gets into a nice pace and you’re starting to really enjoy yourself, giving Taker the runaround and even getting some low tackles in that slam him to the canvas, just as you’ve agreed. He has you hemmed in the corner as you take turns delivering blows to the head and he calls the big spot that you worked on.

“OK kid, you’re gonna slip under my arm, jump and bash my head on the post here, then get outta the ring and get the chair in here.”

He moves one leg back just a fraction which gives you the wriggle room to duck and with a big leap you deliver the blow to his head before nipping between the ropes. You grab the folding chair from the corner by the announcer’s table and shove it into the ring while Taker staggers about, selling the blow to his head. You pick up the chair and deliver a blow to his back and so he falls down to the canvas and you drop a couple more. As he drags himself up to all fours, you move around so that you’re standing over his head - it’s time for the big one and you raise the chair high and bring it down as he gets to his knees.

He raises his head and you realise with horror what’s about to happen - you’ve not properly factored in distance and BAM! Instead of catching him on top of his head, it glances down his forehead and opens him up. Blood appears in an instant, welling up in the cut before spilling over and trickling down in his face in a bright red curtain. You stare open mouthed at what you’ve done but he doesn’t really acknowledge it, just carries on with a couple more moves on you before grabbing and positioning you for the Last Ride. He lifts you high, high into the air and then you hear the blood rushing in your ears before you hit the canvas with a deafening thud. He covers you, the bell goes and the ref raises his arm as his theme blasts out.

Having celebrated his win he exits the ring and leaves you laying there, staring at a pool of his blood glistening bright red against the canvas. You give him a chance to make his way up the ramp before you slide out and follow dejectedly in his wake. As you walk back through the curtain gorilla is blessedly empty, so you escape the first ass-chewing that you were anticipating. You need to find him and apologise - your first really big match and you blew it. The image of him covered in blood comes to your mind and you wipe a hand over your face and moan. He’s going to kill you.

You ask a couple of crew if they’ve seen him and the second one says that they saw him heading to medical and your heart sinks. You are so finished. You consider going there to see him, but somehow don’t think your presence would be appreciated and so instead you head to the showers figuring to get changed and then catch up to him.

There’s half a dozen guys already in the locker room and they greet you enthusiastically and ask how things went. You recount the absolute disaster and they try to reassure you with all the usual ‘mistakes happen’ stuff. You nod and then grab your gel and head through to the shower while the rest of the guys continue to yell and chat with each other.

You’ve been stood under the water, lost in thought for a few minutes when it suddenly occurs to you that it’s gone quiet. Silent, in fact. Frowning, you shut off the water and grab your towel, rubbing it over your head and body before stepping into a pair of sweats before you walk round the corner to the lockers.

Taker is sat there, waiting for you. Your eyes do a quick sweep of the room and then dart back to him when he speaks.

“Ain’t nobody coming in here, boy. It’s just you and me.”

You take a couple of steps forward. “Taker, I’m sorry - I didn’t mean -”

He holds up a hand and you fall silent. “What’d you call me?”

You curse inwardly. “Sir, I -”

“Try again.”

You swallow as your mind races because there’s no way he wants you to use his given name. If it’s not Taker, and it’s not sir, the only other thing he’s mentioned… Fuck. You chew on your lip for a moment and then whisper, “I’m sorry… daddy?”

He nods slowly. “There ya go.” He beckons you closer and staring at the floor you make your way over. “Look at me, boy.”

You raise your eyes and wince when you see the now closed up cut on his forehead. “I didn’t mean to, daddy.”

“I know that,” he says and you feel relief wash over you until he adds, “but now I need to give you a receipt, don’t I?”

You almost feel like you’re on the outside looking in, because he must know that this is pushing your buttons. Your mind races as you try to think whether you’ve ever said or done anything to give the game away but you turn up a blank. You’ve always had a crush on him but figured you’d kept a lid on it, even to the point of avoiding him. You flash back to that smile he gave you that you had never quite figured out and realise that he must have seen it in you. You don’t know whether to be excited or terrified.

He stands up and you take an involuntary step back but he grabs your wrist before setting one foot up on the bench. You look at the huge boot and then back up to his face but only for a second because he jerks you forward and bends you over his thigh and then holds you in place with a hand on the back of your neck.

“Take those sweats down.” He accompanies his words with a squeeze of his hand.

You reach for your waistband and then sanity interferes. “Wh… what are you going to do?”

“Did I stutter, boy? Get ‘em down!”

With a whimper you comply, pushing the fabric down over your ass and thighs until they reach your knees and drop the rest of the way to pool around your feet.

“That’s better,” his voice is softer now. “I tell you to do something and you jump, boy.”

“Yes, daddy-ee!” Your response turns to a squeak as you feel that big hand stroke over your naked ass.

“OK, it’s receipt time.” His leg shifts slightly as he gets himself comfortable and then he gives you a gentle pat before adding, “Now, you can yell as loud as you want so long as you don’t mind anyone outside figuring out what’s happening to ya.”

With that he draws his hand back and it comes down firmly on your ass, making you gasp. Surprisingly, it’s not as painful as you thought it would be and even when the second and third smacks land it feels like maybe this is just some kind of token thing for him to do to a newbie - like mild hazing or something. By the time it gets to six you’re starting to change your mind and when a particularly hard strike lands you cry out and clutch his leg.

“OK, tha -that’s enough - I -” Suddenly you’re upright, his hand still around the back of your neck and he’s glaring at you. He bends down until his face is inches from your own and you stare at the strawberry blonde goatee as he speaks slowly in a low voice.

“Let’s get something crystal fuckin’ clear, boy. You don’t decide what’s enough - I do. Got it?” You nod and he gives you a shake. “Who does?”

“Y- you do,” you stutter and then when his looks becomes meaner still you hurriedly add, “I mean - you do, daddy.”

“Damn right.” He nods and message delivered, he bends you back over and really begins to wail on you, his palm coming down hard all over your ass and flinging your hands out of the way when you try to protect yourself. You’re shouting in pain and not caring who hears you but it’s clearly no deterrent to him and so you try a different tack.

“Please, daddy! Please stop! I’ll be good, I promise!”

Despite the pain, the embarrassment and the confusion you realise that your dick is getting hard and try desperately to will it from happening, but to no avail. Your feet drum on the floor as he continues to spank you and you’re squeezing his calf again. Eventually he stops and you blink furiously to clear the tears before he drags you upright again.

“That’s your receipt, boy. Next time you fuck up that bad it’ll be my belt, ya hear?”

You swipe a hand across your face and nod, unable to stop your other hand from creeping back to rub at your ass. “Yes, daddy. Can - can I go now?” Even as the words leave your mouth a thought flits through your brain that says, ‘Please don’t end this here…’

He still has a hold on your neck but it’s softened and is more comforting than anything else. You watch his eyes scanning down your body and then he stops and a slow smile crosses his face before he glances back up at you.

“Oh, I don’t think so boy - not yet. Now, what’s this?” His hand slips between your legs and the long, warm fingers wrap around your dick which responds rapidly and you let out a small moan. “Looks like that’s got you all hot and bothered, huh?”

You swallow and consider stuttering out a denial but what would be the point? While he’s holding your dick, his free hand wanders to his own crotch and you watch as he squeezes himself through the denim.

“You want to give it up for daddy? Got a few kinks you want me to work out, that it?”

Your head snaps up. Is he really saying what you think he’s saying? There’s that smirk again but he shocks you by abruptly letting go of your dick and pulling up your sweats. You stand there, a deep blush on your cheeks and heart pounding as it pokes out, tenting the material.

Taker picks up his gear bag, a typical black holdall, and tosses it on to the floor in front of you. You glance down at it and then back up at him but he’s already got his back turned as he walks to retrieve a chair from the far end of the room. He saunters back over and sets it down about four feet from the gear bag, which you’re standing just behind. He takes a seat as you stand there hot, bothered and horny, wondering what’s going on. He leans back, knees falling wide apart and looks up at you.

“Guess you’re hoping I’m gonna fuck you.” It’s a statement and you find yourself nodding before hurriedly stopping yourself as he chuckles. “Yeah, I thought so. But here’s the thing.” He brushes some imaginary dust from his thigh and says, “You gotta earn that.” He sits up a little straighter and folds his arms. “What d’you think about that?”

“I…” You swallow and try to focus enough to answer as you stand before your ultimate crush, aware that a damp patch is probably spreading on your pale grey sweats. “I can do that, daddy.”

He nods, strokes over his goatee and says, “Let’s find out, shall we? Get on all fours, boy.”

As though pulled by invisible strings, you drop to your hands and knees, which puts you about six inches from his gear bag. You look up, eager to pass whatever test he has in mind for you and then it’s as though your brain just short circuits. If he looked alpha male to you before, being down on all fours and looking up just wipes you out. He beckons to you, urging you forwards, but his bag is in the way… isn’t it?

“C’mon, boy… that’s it. Just get the bag underneath yourself… bit further… stop right there.”

You freeze in place when he tells you to stop and in that moment realise that your dick is just above one edge of the holdall. Your eyes are still fixed on him and that predatory smile is back on his face. Your hips drop slightly and your dick makes contact with the bag through your sweats and you gasp, lifting them up again.

“Go on, boy… rut on it.”

Somehow you’d known this was his plan when he made you crawl over the bag. You don’t think you could stop yourself even if you wanted to and so you begin to move, your swollen dick inside your pants repeatedly catching on the edge of his gear bag. The friction is delicious and you moan, head dropping down. You should be embarrassed - maybe you are - but you just don’t care and straight away begin to pick up speed.

Taker looks pleased and palms himself through his jeans again. “Feels good, don’t it? Look at you… you’re fuck drunk already, boy.” He leans forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs and the movement makes you lift your head again.

“Please… please, daddy!”

“Please what?” He shrugs and then shakes his head. “You don’t even know, do you? You’re too busy fucking yourself stupid.”

“Please daddy…” You want to say more but you just can’t form words and he laughs this time - a low, rumbling sound.

“Poor, dumb little fuckslut. Can’t even form a sentence, can you boy? You just keep going until you make a mess in your pants.”

You give up trying to speak and just nod, knowing that you’re really not far off from…

“Fuck - daddy - please!” You cry out as you start to come, the material of your light grey sweats darkening in patches with your release.

Seemingly unmoved Taker reaches forward and slides his bag out from under you, presumably to prevent it from being soiled and then to your eternal surprise he leans over and kisses you on the forehead.

“There ya go. Next time you can try it on my leg, how ‘bout that?”

You’re still on all fours and just nod dumbly. “Yes please, daddy.”

He stands up and picks up his bag, hefting it on to his shoulder. “You might wanna get up boy, before anyone comes in here and wants to know why you’re on the floor with cum stains on your pants. Just a thought.”

With that, he heads for the door and walks out, leaving you alone still staring dazedly at the chair and wondering how long it’ll be until he calls on you again.

END

#the undertaker #undertaker #this character lives in my head rent free #taker smut #wwf undertaker x reader #the undertaker x reader #TTT Tumblr Asks #the american badass #american badass x reader #american badass smut #dom!taker #sub!reader #daddy!taker

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