#wweimaginesmut

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."