#the long term effects of being close enough to ambrose that his sweat gets on you while he screams are unknown to science

[petrodragonicapocalypse]

view from the murlocs barrier. me, 16.09.23

[aggravatetheaxe]

BO SINCLAIR X TRANS MAN / MAN ALIGNED READER COMING OUT - Pt. 2 - Over the Moon

This title is NSFW. Pt. 1, Under Your Skin, is Safe For Work. If you're a minor, please read that one instead! This one has s*x in it!

It's been a year since you came out to Bo, and while there have been ups and downs and a lot of new things to get used to, you've both done your best to keep the relationship going. But has he learned how to treat you like a man?

CW: NSFW, descriptions of dysphoria, mentions of deadnaming/misgendering, mentions of murder and mortal peril, words that could be considered slurs and/or fetishizing/objectifying (I mean, come on, it's Bo. We're talking extremely raunchy BUT GENDER AFFIRMING sex.)

Soundtrack: x

Words: 3,431

Part One

Masterlist

***

The sun was just setting over Ambrose by the time Lester's truck pulled up to the washed-out road. With a smile, you shifted the big paper bag in your arms and slid out of the passenger side, calling, "Thanks, Les!" over your shoulder.

"You take care now!" he said back, patting Jonesy's behind as she jumped out after you. "Tell those good fer nothin' brothers of mine 'm sorry I couldn't make it to dinner."

You nodded, filling your lungs with fresh air. You loved the hell out of Lester, but you still weren't used to the smell of his truck. "I'll tell them. Drive safe. Thanks again."

Lester waved as he backed out, then pulled a sharp turn to head down the dirt road again, truck clattering the whole way.

You looked down at Jonesy, who had paused to pee in a nearby bush. "You ready, Jonesy?" When she looked up at you, panting, you said, "I know, it's hot. Come on, let's head home. Go home, Jonesy."

She knew the way, taking point and leading you across the small creek, around the bend and into Ambrose.

Your heart soared the moment you stepped into town. You could see pretty much the whole thing from where you stood: the church, the gas station, the house of wax ... and of course the Sinclair house.

You were eager to go find Bo, but you followed Jonesy to the house of wax first, opening one of the front doors to let her in. She'd find her way down to Vincent, and he'd know to come up to the house for dinner in about an hour—unless he didn't show up at all, which wasn't out of the ordinary.

Jonesy pranced into the dusty darkness of the museum, and you watched her retreating form for a few moments, zoning out.

It had been a year since you'd come out to Bo, Vincent, and Lester. A year now that you'd been living as your true self. It felt like much longer than that, and yet, when you thought about it, it somehow felt like only yesterday that you'd told your favorite mechanic.

After stewing over it and your talks, he'd come to terms with your new lifestyle ... gradually. Grudgingly, at times. But he was trying, and that meant something. These days, he only had to correct himself occasionally.

And that was the thing about Bo. He may be ignorant, and he might not get it, but once he had come to terms with something ... once he had decided that something was acceptable ... he was protective as hell. It might take some work, and he might still tease you about it, but if anyone else said something? God help them.

"Boo!"

You jumped, nearly dropping your paper bag as strong hands squeezed your waist. You turned quickly and were met with Bo's grinning face. "You douchebag!"

He snickered. "Scared you, darlin'?" He leaned to look into your bag. "Get anything good?"

"Get your nose out of there." With a grin of your own, you pushed him gently away by the chest. "It's a surprise."

"You know I hate surprises." Nonetheless, Bo relented, straightening and adjusting the brim of his hat. "I'll lock up the shop, meet you up at the house in ten?"

"Sounds good." You craned your neck to kiss his stubbly, sweaty cheek, then passed him. As you did, he smacked your ass. "Ugh! Come on, dude."

"You know ya like it, dude."

You could still hear him snickering to himself like an idiot as you parted ways, starting up the hill to the house while he returned to the garage. The door was unlocked as usual. You stopped in the kitchen to shove the groceries in the fridge before starting upstairs. It was hot as hell today, and you were in desperate need of a shower, slicked with more sweat than you cared to think about.

Once in the bedroom, you kicked your shoes under the end of the bed, then stripped off your shirt. You'd been wearing your binder for a few hours now, so you peeled it off, relishing the feeling of air hitting your hot skin. As you chucked the binder to the floor, you glanced into the full-length mirror near the dresser.

Your hormone therapy was going well. You were hairier, your face was slightly different, your fat had redistributed and made you squarer in a way that made you downright giddy. Your chest wasn't flat, but more and more every day, you found you didn't care—even enjoyed the look of it. Wearing a binder in public saved you from being misgendered, but around Ambrose, you didn't wear it all that much.

You ghosted your fingers over the hair on your arms and hands, thinking back. The road to the place you were at had been rocky, to say the least. For you and for Bo. When the HRT had started taking effect especially, he'd gotten weird and silent all over again, like it was finally really setting in for him. But he'd rarely voiced any criticisms aloud besides some offhanded asinine comments, so you'd just let him deal with whatever internal struggle he was dealing with.

Those days had been a struggle for you, too. But by now, he'd gotten over himself. He even dutifully helped with your shots, administering them like they were the most serious shit in the world.

It made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, how far he had come. How far you'd both come. For a few long minutes, you were lost in your scrutiny, fingering stretch marks and admiring your hands.

You were so deep in thought that when the bedroom door creaked open, you jumped, instinctively covering your chest before you realized who it was. "You scared me."

"That's twice today." Bo smirked as he hung his hat on one of the bedposts. "You sure are jumpy."

"You're almost as quiet as Vincent when you wanna be." You bit your lip and glanced back at the mirror.

In the reflection, you noticed Bo looking you up and down slowly. After a beat, he approached from behind, wrapping his arms around your middle and meeting your gaze. As he did, he raised his hands to your chest, strong fingers rubbing your breast tissue in deep circles. Ever since you'd complained about how tender you got after being compressed for hours, he'd done this. You were pretty sure it was just an excuse to touch your boobs, but it felt nice at least.

You relaxed back into him with a sigh, letting him support you a bit. "How was your day?"

"A lot better now that you're home, handsome." He craned his head to kiss your neck and stayed like that, mouth buried in the crook. "Fuck, you smell good," he mumbled into your skin, fingers never stilling.

You couldn't help but squirm a little under his praise. You smelled like sweat, and worse, man sweat, but Bo always seemed fascinated with it, more than content to snuggle up to you and take your changing body in.

"I smell like a highschool gym locker," you mumbled, though you couldn't hide your goofy smile in the mirror.

He raised his eyes and brows to meet your gaze in the reflection again. "You sure? I used ta play football ... don't remember the other guys smellin' this hot."

You squeezed one of the arms around your waist, trying to ignore the heat of your face. The sight of him rubbing your breasts and the feeling of his rough fingers against your sensitive skin was already crazy-making enough. "I bet you found it a little hot."

A year ago, you wouldn't have dared make a joke like that. You didn't even wanna think about how offended he would've gotten. Now, though, his only reaction was a smile that crinkled his eyes and a little sparkle in his pupils.

"All those sweaty, strong guys bumping up against each other in steamy close quarters." Your smile turned into a grin. "Bet it kinda turned you on."

Bo snorted. "Wouldn't really know. I usually changed in the janitor's closet." A bit of vulnerability flashed in his eyes, but he quickly recovered by focusing the attention back on you. "Anyway, none a' them were like you. Where you goin', lookin' like that?"

As he spoke, his hands slid down your front, hugging your hips so your ass was pressed tight against him. You shivered hard. "Looking like what? This is just my body."

He grunted, and you watched in fascination as his gaze ate you up. He rubbed your flanks with his thumbs. "You're a real pretty boy, you know that? Not like other guys at all..."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you suppressed the urge to hide your face in your hands. Still, you averted your eyes from the mirror, too shy to look at yourself any longer. "I dunno about that, but thanks."

Bo shifted. He huffed in your ear, and you lifted your head enough to see him frowning down at you. After a few moments, his expression changed to something slightly more neutral, eyes alight. "Don't make me hafta teach you a lesson, sweetheart. I might enjoy it too much."

Those words sent a thrill up your spine, flipping your stomach. He looked like a predator about to strike its prey, and god, it took everything you had not to give in right away. You raised your chin in a challenge. "What lesson is that, hm?"

Bo's expression shifted again. He grinned, bottom lip caught between his teeth. One hand left your hip, wrapping around your throat just under your chin.

Then, he pivoted, and with one good yank, threw you onto the bed.

You loosed a soft breath as you bounced on the mattress, looking up at him. Defiance fluttered its wings in your chest. "Well? You never answered my question."

"Shh." His hand returned, this time over your mouth. "None a' that now. I'm not in the mood for dolin' out punishment. You just sit there nice 'n' lemme show you what ya do to me, understand?"

Even if you could say something with his hand over your mouth, all you wanted to do was stare at him—at those beautiful blue eyes that seemed to see right through you.

"Tch." His crooked grin made a brief appearance, though it was more of a snarl, showing off his gums. "What a good li'l soldier."

With that, Bo moved in on you, kissing you hard. Teeth and noses clashed painfully before he drew you closer and deeper, his tongue exploring you like he could drink you in. You returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm, grunting into his mouth, then giving a groan when you felt his large hand cup you between the legs.

A sharp inhale, and he pulled back slightly. His lips moved against yours as he whispered, "Whose is that? Who does this pussy belong to, dickbait?"

Your breath hitched. "You."

"Me. That's right." He squeezed and rubbed through your jeans. You could already feel how wet you were, folds sliding together. A second later, he'd undone your button and zipper and slipped his hand into your underwear. "Fuck, that's nice." His lips still brushed against yours, breath hot on your face and in your mouth. "Love that boy cunt. You're just as wet, aintcha?"

As he stroked you, his thumb found your swollen clit. You gasped when he put pressure on it.

"So wet for your man."

You shuddered and dared to quip back, "And it looks like you're pretty hard for yours."

Finally, he pulled back to meet your eyes, lust warring with challenge. He stared for a few moments before saying, his voice nearly a growl, "I'mmuna make you come, pussyboy. Yeah. Squirt all up my stomach 'n' chest ... we'll see if you still gimme an attitude once you're screamin' and shakin' under me."

You had no smart comeback for that. You simply melted onto his hand, grinding against him as he slid two fingers inside your hot, needy pussy. The feeling of him curling his fingers and stroking you deep already had you biting back incoherent dirty talk, every nerve electric.

"Pretty young buck like you, walkin' around lookin' like that ... you're just askin' for dick." He licked his lips and used his other hand to help you shimmy out of your jeans. Soon, you were bare, gushing all over his fingers as he loomed over you. "Am I right?"

"Y-Yeah," you pushed out, leaning back on your palms so he could get a better angle. "Fuck, Bo—"

"Y/N," he mumbled back, free hand gripping the back of your head. "Y/N."

You heard him say your name all the time, but the way he said it now, the way he was staring into your eyes ... you knew this meant something more. He wasn't just fucking you, he was fucking you. He was seeing you.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your head was spinning with every circle his thumb made around your clit, but you needed more. With a strangled gasp, you gripped his biceps. "Bo, baby, inside—fuck, please, I need you."

He smirked above you. "Not until you admit you're the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose."

You groaned. "Come on!"

"Sorry, gorgeous, those're the rules. C'mon, lemme hear you say it."

Your cheeks burned, but he wouldn't stop playing with your pussy, and you didn't want to come without his cock inside you. "I-I can't," you muttered, only half joking. "What about you, big cat?"

"Besides me." He thrust his fingers in particularly firmly, drawing a shout from you. "Say, 'I'm the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose.' I wanna see you say it while you're ridin' my hand, and you better convince me."

You panted for a few more moments before finally giving in, sputtering, "I'm the ... handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose," followed immediately by a groan, your eyes rolling back in your head.

"I'm not buyin' it."

"I'm the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose!" He certainly made you feel like it.

"Good boy." After one last jerk, Bo drew his fingers from you, going to work his belt off. His cock sprung from his Dickies, already red and glistening with precum. He caught your calves in iron grips as he lined himself up with your hole. "I c'n smell you. Slut. So fuckin' messy for me."

As he slid in, your head lolled back. You dropped to your elbows, then gave up completely and laid flat, unable to hold yourself up for shaking.

Bo almost cooed, throbbing gently inside you. "Lookit my beautiful boyfriend ... already half way ta heaven. Haven't even started poundin' that sloppy boy pussy yet. Ya can't lose it on me already, ace."

Even the stupid nicknames got you hot somehow. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, panting. When he began to thrust, you yowled like a hurt animal, the drag of his dick sending flames spitting through your limbs.

His grip tightened as he rolled his hips into you, in and out, in and out, picking up pace. "You like that, loverboy? Shit, sure looks like ya do." He lifted his chin. "Stick your tongue out."

Obediently, you parted your lips with your tongue, trying not to drool too much.

Bo couldn't hide the way his eyes sparkled as he watched your mouth, or the way his dick swelled in you. His hips moved faster, your slickness enough for him to glide. It felt so nice, but that alone wouldn't make you come, and he knew that—he was savoring this.

Eventually, his shirt found its way to the floor, followed by his pants and boxer-briefs. The sight of him bare with you, glistening in the hot afternoon, made it hard to breathe.

With one of his hands, he propped your leg up so it was resting against his chest and slightly over his shoulder; with the other, he explored your torso, dragging his calloused hands up your hip, across your stomach, to your breasts. He still played with them often, sucking and squeezing, and you found you didn't mind. The way it made you feel and the way he was looking at you, how could you ever hate it? Plus, you weren't sure he'd take no for an answer regardless.

A growl ripped from your chest as he bent to suck one of your nipples, latching on for a few moments before flicking his tongue, then running it flat in circles. He whispered heatedly, lips brushing against you, accent slurring, "I love your tits ... you know I love ya tits, righ'? Fuck, ya so hot..."

You knew he'd miss them if you decided to get rid of them. Honestly, that was half the reason you were reconsidering that idea. You never wanted to forget the way he worshiped them: licking, sucking, slapping, squeezing his dick between them...

"Come on, romeo," Bo panted, his mouth still against your chest as he plowed into you. Wet clapping filled the room as his balls met your ass, again and again, almost unbearably warm. "Come on, fuck ya'self off tha'."

He loosened his grip on you, giving you more freedom to move. Now he was fucking firmer, his angle more deliberate, the hot head of his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. You loosed another yowl and bucked your hips to meet his.

"Bo," you groaned. "Bo, Bo..."

"Tha's my man." He was losing control of himself, his voice choked and desperate. "Tha's my man. Tha's my fuckin' man."

"Yeah—! You— you like fucking other guys, angel? Huh?"

Bo exhaled harshly, twitching inside you. "Like makin' 'em scream, too. 'Specially this one. My— handsome li'l— pussyboy—"

You could feel the muscles of his sweat-slicked thighs and abs flexing as he tried to hold himself back, trying to keep himself from finishing. You knew one comment from you would push him over the edge ... so you waited until you were at your edge, too, to choke out: "Fill that slutty boy pussy up, cher. Show me who's the big man around here, who gets to come wherever he wants. Show me who's boss— fuck—!"

Bo lurched, sinking his teeth in the crook of your neck. Every inch of him tensed, cock jumping, and you saw white as your entire core became molten between your orgasm and his.

When you were next aware of your surroundings, he had collapsed into you, slumped a bit awkwardly over the edge of the bed. He was breathing hard, his hair damp with sweat. It dripped down his spine, too, and down the back of your thighs. You gripped him tightly, wrapping your arms and legs around him, and the two of you stayed like that for a minute or so.

Eventually, he pulled away, rolling onto his back beside you. One of his strong, square hands still gripped your wrist, though, thumb brushing the back of your hand lightly. He opened his pretty blue eyes, all long lashes as he blinked away the haze of his climax.

Then he looked over at you—and, of course, found you already staring at him. His lips quirked up in a smirk. "Angel?"

You could feel yourself flush. "Romeo?"

The smirk turned into a wolfish grin, and he propped himself up on one elbow, stealing a kiss. "You're cute," he declared after a moment, like he was giving his official opinion on the subject.

"You're one to talk. Can we at least agree that I'm the second handsomest man in Ambrose?"

Bo heaved a sigh. "A'right, a'right, fine. Guess numero uno is my cross ta bear."

"Always."

With a laugh, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close for a kiss. It started heated and rough, but as the seconds passed, it became more tender. He slipped a hand into your hair and held you in the kiss for an extended period before pulling away, an intense gaze searching your face.

"I love you," he breathed. "Ya know that, right?"

It wasn't often he said it unprompted; usually when he told you he loved you, it was because you'd said it first. At once, tears sprung to your eyes, and you leaned in for another quick kiss.

You did know—you did. And more importantly, he knew. He knew everything and he still said those three little words. He saw you and this and he still wanted all of it.

And fuck, you wanted it, too.

***

Masterlist

Tip Jar

[wwe-fluff-fic]

Dean Ambrose - Because Of You

Dean Ambrose - Prompt #82: “My back’s a bit sore from when you stabbed me with your knife.”

- Warnings - Angst, Fluff, Swearing, Mentions of cheating.

Word Count - 1,639 words.

Requested by: Anon.

______________________________________________________________

3 years is how long’d you’d been together now; you and Dean. It felt as though it was just a dream, a perfect miracle that almost made life seem to have meaning again. He saved you after your previous relationship gone wrong.

You knew him like he was just another part of you. Far too well to put it in simpler terms. Maybe that’s why you felt so safe and comforted around him or perhaps it was just the way he looked at you, whether it be after a long road trip being reunited or just as he watched you fall asleep. You could never get over those eyes. The exact piercing blue orbs that blindsided you causing you to fall in love with this guy the very moment you stepped foot in the doors of the WWE.

It was a rare occasion for your boyfriend to be injured- even if he was nobody would even know. He supposedly ‘didn’t care’ and ‘didn’t want it the phase him or throw him off his a-game’. That’s what was ever so slightly strange... getting a call Tuesday night from Dean informing you he was going to have to stay home for a month due to an injury. He never took time off; not for anything. And the phone call... well he sounded surprisingly calm, polar-opposite to your expectations. 

A mere few months ago, Dean and yourself were drafted to separate brands; him going to Smackdown and you being sent to Raw. Being split up inevitably would take an effect on your relationship but you were determined to maintain the close-knit bond you had made over the years. This made reunions at joint pay-per-views that tiny bit more special. With Dean’s injury as well as the WWE’s European tour directly after the Royal Rumble meant you weren’t going to end up seeing each other for at least 3 weeks. It would be an understatement to say you were totally devastated by this sudden realisation; it would be wrong to say that your heart didn’t feel a million miles away at this point.

~ European Tour ~ 

The final live show in Germany was finally over meaning just 48 hours left until your knees tremble and your heart feels whole again. 48 hours until you next see your boyfriend.

It was late; about a quarter to 11. Little noise was to be heard as you exited the what was a couple of hours ago a thunderstorm of thousands of voices all talking at once. The sky was dark- crammed with billions of stars, the moon the biggest you’d seen in a long while. It was almost as if it grew simultaneously with your heart. Your cab pulled up and you hastily entered. You were supposed to car-share to the hotel and leave tomorrow- Guess that plan didn’t work out. You made the decision to completely scrap that and get the first flight possible, getting back early the following morning to surprise Dean. Effectively the best decision you had made in your life.

~ The Following Morning ~

Stepping foot off the plane your mood was instantly sky rocketed just being in the presence of your home state- I mean even if you didn’t look half your best and even if that strong scent of sweat was still lingering from the person you had not long ago sat next to. Oh, the joys of standard class airplanes. You took a step out the airport into a warmer, more desirable temperature, one that was an utter contrast to the crisp winds of Europe. Luckily, the cab ride was short considering you lived not too far away. By this moment the suspense was slowly killing you; you were just dying to see him, to kiss his face, to have him hold you once again after a month.

Standing outside to door to your apartment you focused solely on the thoughts running through your head before practically leaping through the door. You were faced with your living room, your quaint kitchen in the background; empty. He must be in the bedroom. It is early and all so that’s your best guess. You swiftly rested all your luggage at the door, anticipation rushing over you as you took a stroll towards your bedroom. Your hands were shaking, you wouldn’t say it was from nerves, more so because you’re overly excited. You slowly pressed against the door entering with stealth; the last thing you wanted to do was wake Dean. There you saw him; just how you remember him looking... just not with the girl laying stomach down, tight dress on the bed next to him.

“Y/N, I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow,” Dean exclaimed, clearly in a state of shock. “I-i” His words started to become slurred so you instantly cut him off.

“You know what Dean, save your words for someone who cares. I wanted to surprise you but looks like you surprised me.” Your vision began to become blurred. Did your eyes deceive you? This isn’t the man you fell in love with. His mouth wouldn’t stop just opening and then closing, desperately seeking the words to get himself out of this mess. He couldn’t. “You know what, we’re done Dean, done.” You pretty much screamed at him, slamming the door behind you to walk away, your luggage being taken with you.

~ Wrestlemania ~

A little over a month later and it was Wrestlemania- The most prestigious night in sports entertainment. The night where both rosters merge to fight for every title in the company. In fact, you had a match tonight, a 6-pack challenge for the Raw Women’s title. Everyone was pumped... but not you. After your last encounter with Dean, you distanced yourself from pretty much everyone, your friends, even your family. You weren’t the same person you used to be. The match was brief lasting a matter of minutes- well your match was short due to you eliminating yourself through disqualification snapping a chair against the backs of everyone in that ring. Much like Seth did to Dean, much like you wanted to do to him.

People made the effort to talk to you but you made no acknowledgment of them, sitting solemnly on a crate in the corridor, head in hands. That’s when a far too familiar muscular build shadowed over your body. “Y/N...” He mumbled softly but you didn’t shift. He continued to question you asking whether ‘you were okay’. Of course you weren’t, it was a stupid question. You just didn’t answer, you lifted your head to be faced with him but absolutely no words left your mouth. “Y/N just talk to me for fuck sake.” He tone became more raspy.

Only being in the presence of him was enough to let your emotions take over. You refused to cry... it would show your weakness in front of him. Ever since that night you tried to fake a smile, you tried to forget, you tried to just move on. But you couldn’t. You were tired of running, from everything. “Ouch.” You finally spoke, you could see the relief on his face even if he was slightly confused at your remark.

His instant reaction was to worry. “Are you alright? Did you get hurt in your match.”

“No Dean, my back’s a bit sore from when you stabbed me with your knife, that’s all.” You snapped at him, it was almost an instant reflex. “I got hurt a while ago Dean, by you.”

“We need to talk about that.” His tone lowered in utter grief. He wanted you to listen but you refused. “Please just hear me out. Please.” He begged you slapping his hand onto your leg before you just shoved it away before shouting, “I shouldn’t have to listen, there’s nothing more to it.”

His features lowered and a clear lump protruded from his throat. “The is more to it. I never cheated on you Y/N. I wouldn’t do that. I was injured so I decided to take things upon myself while I had the chance. I was going to propose to you... The girl, she was a party planner. We were going to surprise you, have a celebration with everyone there. I know why you thought the worst but I tried to talk to you, you wouldn’t pick up. I didn’t even know where you were. I’m sorry.” He choked on his words, you’d never seen him like this.

You’d never felt so stupid. It all made sense now, why he’d been distant, why’d he’d been so nervous. The words coming directly from his mouth hit you like a truck, a mixture of emotions all surging through your mind at once. Why did you ever doubt this guy? Being in a state of shock meant no words could escape your mouth. Your mind was so screwed, you just slapped him... but as his head turned away upon impact you twisted his chin back to you, placing a strong kiss on his lips. God, did that feel great. One singular tear streamed down your cheek only to be wiped clear by his thumb. “I’m sorry Dean. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.” You wept whilst being dragged into a tight embrace.”I never meant to accuse you. I was wrong.”

His lips firmly pressed against your forehead. He used to do that all the time. It felt like you had him back, the man you fell in love with, the relationship that completed your world. “Ssh, it’s okay now. What do you say about marriage then? Marry me Y/N.” That was enough to drive your emotions over the edge, a waterfall of tears now ran off your chin and you frantically nodded in agreement. This man was now to be your husband and never again will you doubt him.

Tag List - @m-a-t-91

Feels for this one! Anyways this was a fun one to write so I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I liked writing it! Also thank you for requesting Anon! xo ~ Nikkii.