#Deanambrosefanfic

[psycho-ambrose-blog]

Uninvited. {Dean Ambrose}

Summary: Housesitting for Dean had its perks, his house was beautiful, quiet and relaxing when it came to studying compared to your dorm or the lecture hall. However, your friends convince you to throw a party at his bachelor pad only to have Dean crash the party. Warning: Smut. Smut. Smut. Masterlist: Here

You swung open the craftsman style French doors, carrying in a 24 pack of beer while your friend followed behind. "Please don't touch anything." You warn her as you both make your way into the sleek polished kitchen. "Who is this guy again?" She asks, in awe of how massive his home is compared to the claustrophobic dorm the two of you share. Setting the beer on the glossy marble that was isolated from the steel double-door refrigerator you open the case, taking two bottles at a time. "Some wrestler my mom does physical therapy for." You reply, aligning the bottles into the vacant fridge he rarely ever used. "Mind if I use the restroom, or do I need to take out a loan?" She smirks. A small smile curves at your lips. "Down the hall to the right." She returns your smile, waiting for you to turn your back to her before prowling through the bachelor pad. You're too busy loading bottle after bottle to be aware of how long your friend is gone for, the thoughts of throwing a party at a house that isn't even yours and what could go wrong is distracting her disappearance. You mentally lecture yourself that it's not a party, it's a small gathering between 10 friends. Not to mention the fact that your social group is mature enough to respect Dean and his household. "Oh my god!" Your friend squeals, trotting from the second level floor. "He has rubbers! And they are opened." Mortified, you snatch the box from her grip. "Where did you get these?!" "I got lost finding the restroom and ended up in the master." she shrugs unapologetically. "You went into his room?!" You shout, rushing upstairs to Dean's occupied space. You look mentally unstable examining every region and crevice of his massive master suite. "Do you know if he's proscribed to any Xanax? I think you need one" You friend retorts, watching you ping-pong from one side of the room to the next. You give her a longing glare before putting the condoms back in their rightful spot in his bedside drawer. "Have you ever thought about sleeping with him?" She snickers. "Enough." You say, bluntly annoyed with her comments. She giggles at your irritated response before plopping down on his King-sized bed. "C'mon, I bet he could show you a few wrestling moves" She taunts. "Would you get up. You're gonna leave an imprint!" You tell her sternly before pulling her off and smoothing out the wrinkles. "Would you stop being so uptight?!" She declares. "I wouldn't be so uptight if you would stop being to immature." You retort, guiding her out from the bedroom and shutting the door. "No one is to come near this bedroom or anywhere else for that matter. We are strictly staying in the kitchen and outside on the patio. Are we clear?" "Crystal." ______ It's 30 minutes until midnight and as the night only aged, more unwelcome bodies made themselves attentive. You pushed through people from the patio making a beeline into the kitchen to find your friend. Your jaw nearly falls to your knees when you spot her and a group of frat boys doing shots from the liquor cabinet Dean stocked up on. It was only worse when the crowd chanted around them that made your objections unable to be heard. The echo of something expensive hits the floor that snaps your attention away from the rally and you immediately rush to the living room. "You broke Mitch!" You nearly scream at the intoxicated guys who had shoved each other over who controlled the music, knocking over Dean's beloved plant. You scoop up the remains into the broken pottery frantically until the whole room goes silent. Your gut falls dramatically when you see the rugged wrestler speechless in his own home. He had grown a beard since the last time you saw him, and his trucker hat didn't fail to hide the rage look on his face. "Out." He says sternly. With one word, everyone is scrambling their way past him before he erupts. It takes a good minute or so for the crowd to clear only to display empty solo cups, opened liquor bottles, and the soil spread across the floor from Mitch. He hasn't moved from his spot nor has he made eye-contact with you. It's completely silent despite his fingers that were drumming against his collarbone. "Dean I-" "Sit." He orders, interrupting you. You immediately obey as your knees folded from under you and plopping against the couch. He brings his finger to his lips, gritting his teeth when he spots the liquor cabinet unfastened. Taking his other hand, he slides his hat off and ruffles his hair as he makes his way to the couch across from you. "May I?" He juts his chin towards the unopened beer that was starting to form a ring around the mahogany coffee table. You swallow hard, nodding your head. He twists open the bottle taking a big swig of it. "Guess you forgot to invite me." He mutters lightening the conversation but all you could anticipate was the fit he was about to throw. You roll your lips between your teeth, bouncing your leg anxiously. He sits across from you while fiddling with the bottle between his fingers gnawing at the skin on his lower lip. "You broke my plant." "I didn't break the plant" You mumble with your head hung low. He chuckles dryly, finishing off his beer. "You gotta a lot nerve." You try to formulate any sort of apology but all that comes out is a stuttering mess. "I-I will have all of this clean up an-and I will pay for the da-damages, I'm so sor-sorry Dean." You arise from your position to begin cleaning. "Sit down, (Y/N)." He says harshly. You fall back onto the couch by your orders, fixing the hem of your distressed t-shirt dress that stopped above your knees. Dean watches you toy with your dress nervously, swallowing hard when you cross your legs uncomfortably. "You crossed your boundaries throwing a party in my household." "I'm sorry.." You mutter quietly. "You let college kids parade and purloin alcohol that comes out of my pocket." He remarks. Your words wouldn't remedy the situation no matter how differently you put it, you look like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. "On some small level, I feel as if you owe me for disrespecting me so exquisitely" he says darkly. There's an awkward silence between the both of you before he cuts the tension with the word, "Strip." Your eyes flicker to his, almost as if you didn't hear him correctly. "Strip, now." He repeats. There's a dull ache between your legs when you hear the word roll off his tongue. Your legs wobble from under you as you arise from the couch while Dean slumped back. You peal the material off painfully slow to display the grey lace thong and black bra you had hiding underneath. Dean's lips purse at the view of your curves, palming at his bulge. "C'mere" He beckons with the flick of his finger. You saunter over to him stopping when your knee is touching his. He snakes his rough hand to the smooth of your waist, luring you in his embrace. You straddle his leg resting your hand over his bulge that was aching against his zipper. "May I?" You ask, your face inches away from his you could feel his uneven breath hitting your cheek. "Look at you, finally askin' for permission." He smirks rubbing the arch of your ass before striking his hand against your skin. You hiss at the stinging sensation only to have it interrupted by his lips colliding with yours roughly. He swings your opposite leg over his lap now straddling over him as your tongue fondles with his between sloppy kisses. You roll your hips against his, grinding against his dick that was still criminally covered. A gritty moan erupts from his mouth nipping at your lower lip while his hands find their way to your breasts. Your hands are doing their own work finally tearing his jeans open and tugging them down with his boxers. You both are impatient with eager hands and being in a restless position for so long Dean takes it among himself to tear your thong from your body, disbanding it on the floor. He situates your petite frame against the couch while he climbs over you, stamping open mouthed kisses along your neck. You toy through his matted curls gasping when you feel his length brush between your thighs. You dip your head back allowing him to take advantage of the vacant space where he sucks harshly against the side of your neck. He's teasingly massaging his tip against your soaking entrance with your legs wrapped around his built waist. Without warning, he sinks inside of you and immediately groans at the tight sensation. "Fuck" his voice vibrates against your neck while formulating a quick rhythm, ramming into you over and over. His plunging patterns are leaving you breathless, your nails clawing at his back muscles that are mockingly flexed. "Dean, fuck, oh fuck." You whimper, digging against his muscles. His hisses at the mixture of clenched friction inside of you and the scratching you are doing against his back, none the less turned on by both. His slithers his hand between your thighs kneading your swollen clit as his thrusts become more barbarous. "Y'gonna fucking cum for me, huh?" His voice is coated with anticipation as your walls contract around his length. "Fuck, Dean." You whine, pulling at his curls. "C'mon, cum for me baby." He pleads, rubbing harshly at your overstimulated pussy that constructs you through an orgasm. It wasn't long until Dean was following you into a panting mess as he was pulling out from your entrance and stroking himself above your stomach. The warm spurts gushed along your stomach as Dean let you a breathless moan when he came. His fringe stuck to his forehead when he looked down at your stomach, content with the mess he made. "You.." He panted, smirking. "You have yet another mess to clean."

[xjjawsomex]

Kidnapped by The Lunatic Fringe (on Wattpad) http://my.w.tt/UiNb/isVQ9sAmqG Magnolia, an average woman, who goes to her first WWE live event..... Dean Ambrose, also known as The Lunatic Fringe, who feels a connection too her, not only physically but mentally? What happens when she rejects him, and he kidnaps her? Read on to Find Out.....

[wildspiritsfanfic-blog]

Chapter 1

"Ma, hang up because I can't hear you over this goddamn phone," Krystal shrieked over the muttering and clattering of the crowd as she continued, "I'll call you later. WWE Superstars are just coming for the signings before the event starts!" As soon as Krystal threw her mobile into her purse, the cheers got higher, fierce and inevitably loud. It was Dean Ambrose vs. AJ Styles for the WWE World Heavyweight Championship. As the Lunatic Fringe came running down the ramp, people raised their persons from the chairs in honor, capturing numerous every-angle pictures. "I want a kiss, love," some stupid stubbornness-stricken fan-girls shouted while the cacophony was joined by wishes and hellos'. Everyone in WWE was equally appreciable, but for Krystal, Dean Ambrose provided an exception. She wasn't just a dumbass fan-girl like every other girl in San Diego was; she didn't want a good sex from Dean; she didn't want just a signature of him; she didn't want just a kiss or a 'DA' tattoo printed on either of her boobs. All she craved for was him; whether it be just a glimpse of his scrumptious face or seeing him smiling, shining, and standing on top of the world: evidently both. Albeit she knew she couldn't get him all to herself, she prayed. She prayed for a miracle, that maybe, maybe an ocean's wave would change its course and bring the Northern coolness in her life, that she won't be left desolate like the Fiji Islands of the Pacific. It is said: "A man can live without food for three months, without water for three days, without air for three minutes, but without 'hope', he cannot even live three seconds." And it was 'hope' by which she lived. Standing in the middle of the crowd; the shrieks and shouts, the ear-smacking cheers and heavenly moments of elation, she stood silent, sensing, observing her love who was walking down the ramp, laughing oh-so-sinfully-good, signing girl T-shirts and arms and naked backs and what not! Her inclination filled with desires, seized her indignation filled with a little jealousy. It's ok. Let him kiss. Let him love. It's his culture that allows; his heart that desires. What matters is his smile to me. God, please always keep him happy, smiling forever. And laden my shoulders with his sins, so that he may remain free from repentance. Now, seeing him happy, seeing the respect and grace, seeing people bowing in front of him made her feel gratified; relieved. This was what she wanted. Tears of ecstasy volumized her eyes and fled down her cheeks. While she quickly pinched them off her cheek, her gaze caught Dean's who was signing the neck of a fan-girl standing beside Krystal. Keeping his constant gaze on her, he turned to sign her too. "Madam, would you like an autograph?" Dean asked Krystal so cordially that she feared she would break into tears again. "Uh, n-no. Thank you. I have to go," Krystal hastily replied and backed off while Dean secretly eyed her as she left the arena. Something strange, unfamiliar feeling striked Dean as he saw her. Her simple dressing, her soft features, her decency and her innocence, everything seemed so familiar, as if he knew her. He in a moment or so, left the arena to the main exit. Krystal was about to leave when she heard Dean calling her. "Wait!" "Yes?" She stopped and turned while Dean hurriedly came towards her. "Have we met before? I mean during the signings or appearances or any main event?" Dean inquired desperately. "No. Just today." "Then why do I feel like I've seen you a zillion times before?" "You're mistaken, s-sir," perplexed Krystal managed to utter. "Just 'Dean'. I don't like people, I mean you, calling me 'sir'. And yes, we've met! I've seen you in my dreams." "What? In your dreams? Boy, you're screwed by a ghost!" Krystal chuckled not knowing that her prayer of God letting her in his dreams was true. (#MiraclesComeTrue #DontLaughAtMyStupidity) "God, you look cute when you laugh," Dean gave a pleasant smirk. Krystal stopped laughing and looked in his eyes which were already fixed over her face. Coming out of the trance, she turned and was about to escape when he gripped her wrist to pull her back. "I'm not done, princess. Why didn't you want my autograph? I mean, never in my whole career has someone rejected my autograph but you and I never 'offered' anyone my autograph except for you. Girls die to get it. But you don't? Why?" Now what should I tell you. I wanted your signature in my head, my mind. And I have gotten that by the beautiful gift of God: memories, which are saved and can never be lost unlike the autograph paper which I fear would get lost and be found crumpled under someone's shoe. Oh, I would never want your name to be disrespected. And you think that why didn't I have it on my neck or skin? It's just because I don't want a grain of dust to settle over your name; I don't want to scratch it while I bath; I don't want to touch it when my hands are dirty. Oh God, I can't explain all this. I can't let him know that I love him. "I-I just didn't want it. I'm not a 'DA girl'." "Oh, how can that be? I assure you, that one day, you'll be more than a 'DA girl'," he avowed as his grip tightened while Krystal stood frightened loving his confidence at the same time. But she still tried to show ignorant emotions as if she didn't believe him. "I have to go now," Krystal pulled her wrist and turned when he caught it again. "You can't be smarter than me, can't be more stronger than me and can't ignore me over my love," he accidently spoke the last phrase while Krystal asked, "What do you mean by that?" "Uh, nothing. You won't understand." Ignoring the reply, Krystal struggled to get herself free. "Now would you release me so that I could go?" "Sure, but you have to answer my questions," his grip was manly and strong. "Ask." "Your Name?" "Krystal." "Your contact number?" "I won't give." "Your address?" "I can't tell." "Do you think we'll meet again?" "No." "Why?" "I don't know." He finally released her. As she was pulling herself harder, she stumbled and was about to fall when he caught her waist as she gripped his collar to prevent herself from falling. "I told you. You can't be smarter than me...princess. And yes, you're wrong. We'll meet someday again." "How can you be so sure?" "Because life is one, while encounters are many," Dean winked as he moved her straight. Krystal couldn't help but smile a little. Then she turned and left the arena.

[psycho-ambrose-blog]

Babyface. Part 3

Part One: Here

Part Two: Here

Masterlist: Here

Tagging: @fandomfreak202, @blondekel77, @winchestergirl907

He stalked you from a distance, watching you swatch various eye-shadow shades along your wrist. He chuckled the way your tongue poked out between your lips in a concentrated expression when you lined each shade in an ideal column. It was problematic becoming fond of someone half his age, where were girls like you when he was 20? He crept towards you from behind, startling you without warning. "Hey (Y/N)" You twirl uncoordinated nearly falling into his broad chest. "Sorry, hi Seth." You mumble slightly embarrassed as you fix your posture. He chuckles dryly taking a seat in your vanity chair. "Y'think you could cover up the dark circles under my eyes? Didn't get much sleep last night." Nodding your head, you turn back to the various supplies of concealers and powders preying through the right shade for him. He takes advantage of the enduring period of time you take to find the accurate shade as he checks out your figure, content of what you have to offer. His eyes flicker away just in time as you turned to face him, leaning against the arm rest to fill in the gap between the both of you. Your voice is delicate when you ask him to look up to avoid getting any product in his waterline. There isn't much of a conversation between the two of you as you are entirely focus. "You don't talk much." He blurts, dissolving the silence. His sudden statement draws your attention away from his face, almost as if you did something wrong. "I-I'm sorry?" You question. He chuckles, turning his face so he was at eye-level with you sensing how anxious you get when making eye-contact with him. "You don't say much." He repeats. You stare into his eyes a little longer than you should have before a blush crept to your cheeks. "I-uhm-yeah." You stamper out smiling down at your dingy Chuck Taylor's. Seth takes advantage of the small smile that curved at your lips, ducking his head to yours that was still looking at your shoes. "And why is that?" You shrug your shoulders glancing back up to his bearded smirk hoping to formulate something coy, however your self-confidence blankets over you. "I guess I just.. don't really have anything interesting to say." He lets out a breathy laugh. "That's a lie, you're one of the most interesting people here." You look at him like he's taken too many stunts to the head. "Me?" "Yup." He nods. "But I-" you begin, a little dumbfounded only to be interrupted by Seth. "You're normal." He says making you even more confused. "I would hope so." You mutter quietly. "That's not what I meant. I mean, look around you." He says slipping out of your chair and placing his hand on your shoulders. "Everyone here acts like they are superior to others." He mutters against your ear as he turns you to face your fellow coworkers who are too busy warming up their promos or double checking how they look in their ring apparel. His lips were so close to your ear, you prayed he didn't notice the hair that was rising up from the back of your neck. "But you," he mumbles, "you're humble, someone who will actually have a conversation without being so me, myself, and I." "There's not much to know about me, I'm quite boring." Your response comes out in an audible faint as you were distracted by the warmth of Seth's hands pressed to your shoulders. "I'll form an opinion to that. After the show tonight, let's hangout?" His sudden proposal leaves you dumbstruck. "I-" "Great!" He cheers. "But Set-" "I go on at 9:45 tonight, meet me out by the tour bus?" "We have to be in a different city by tomorrow after noon, Leslie will murder me if she found out I went off schedule. And what if Stephanie or Hunter find out you went out? Don't you wrestlers have curfew?" "Where's the fun in doing what you’re told?" He retorts completely ignoring the possible consequences. "I told you I'm boring." Clearly not phased by your warning Seth is already punching his number into your phone. "I'll text you when I've hit the showers." "Seth" You sigh but he refuses to let you turn him down. "See ya later kiddo." He smiles, patting your shoulder before sprinting away to hear any further excuse from you. _____ "You said we were going out for pizza" you complain as you push through the crowd of people along the Vancouver strip. "Pizza is promised, but that's after." Seth smirks, yelling over his shoulder with the thumping music that played through the street. "After?" You ask loud enough for him to hear only to have Seth avoid your question and lock his hand with yours pulling you through the mob of drunk strangers. He guides you to one of the many crowded bars that were lined down the street. "I know this wasn't what you had in mind but-" "I'm not bar hopping with you Seth." You tell him, finally aware of what is occurring. His brown eyes roll to the back of his head. "C'mon." "I'm not even old enough!" "The drinking age is 19 in Vancouver." He successfully recounts, squeezing your hand. You sigh, drawing your hand back. "Seth, we should have been on the road to Seattle 2 hours ago!" You exclaim, checking the time on your lock screen. He snatches your phone placing it into his back pocket. "You're talking to a travel veteran here, I've done this plenty of times. Are you always this paranoid?" "I'm not paranoid, I'm just b-" "Boring, I heard you before." He sighs, draping his arm around you in a comforting matter. "2 drinks and then we'll get pizza and head out on the road." Your conscience is telling you that this is an accident waiting to happen as you trace back to your last incident with Dean. The thought of him caused a lump in your throat, his words echoing in your head. Plenty of rookies in the playpen, yet here you were with a veteran. Kid, yet here you are legally able to drink. Taking kindness out of context, yet Seth was the one who asked you out. The amount of frustration you have boils through your nerves and it takes you a moment to draw back to reality with a convincing Seth in a pair of black skinny jeans and liquor to soil your thoughts. "I'm a Captain Morgan type of girl." Seth has a smug smirk on his face at your sudden request. "That's not so boring after all kiddo."