So maybe Dean had done a bit of stalking but only because he had to. It felt like she was secretly demanding him to seek her out and find her. Find her, take her, fuck her, make her his - at least for one night.
It wasn't like him to deliberately seek out fangirls this way but this one was different. He had done his fair share of reading fanfiction about himself and seeing videos made of him and that's how he had come across her YouTube channel. Her videos were different - more raw, more rough, more intense - and he had to meet her.
It had taken some time and he had to pay a skilled hacker to figure out who she was but he was happy with the outcome. A 31 year old single woman was behind that account. Her hair was light amber brown and she was tall like Charlotte Flair although way better looking in his eyes.
He had waited until midnight to make sure no one saw him out in the daylight. The last thing he needed was for a fan to recognize him and snap a picture of him for the world to see. Not that he was about to do anything illegal - granted, stalking probably was - but he didn't want anyone to get in the way.
He unzipped his leather jacket as he walked into the apartment complex and headed up the stairs to the third floor. He had seen the light coming from her window so he knew she was home. He took a deep breath, rang the doorbell and cracked his head from side to side to get into character. Dean Ambrose had arrived.
"Can I help you?" She blinked in confussion as she realized who was standing there. "Dean?"
He gave her shoulder a push and she willingly took a step backwards. He slipped in through the door and kicked it shut behind him. She stood there in a cobalt blue dress with a low cut that almost threatened her breasts to pop out.
"Hello Monica," he said.
"How do you know who I am?" She asked.
"I know everything I need to know about you," he answered.
He took off his leather jacket and let it drop on the floor behind him. He closed in on her with a quick step and placed a hand on her hip while his other hand landed on her neck.
"I've seen your videos of me," he said.
"You have?" She asked.
"You like my evil side?" He asked.
"I didn't mean anything by it. I'm sorry," she said.
"I don't wanna hear you apologize because I know you're not sorry at all," he leaned in and ran his nose up her neck. "I know I'm turning you on."
"Yes," she whispered.
He took a step backwards and smirked at her while drumming his fingers on his collarbone.
"You want the beast?" He asked.
"I don't know," she answered.
"I'm not giving you a choice how you want me. It's either yes or no," he stared her down. "Do you want the beast inside me?"
She blinked at him and the silence hung thick in the air for two seconds.
"Yes," she finally said.
He grinned at her and reached forward to grab her dress, ripping it apart before she could protest. He grabbed her hair and yanked her around with force until she tripped down on her knees. He was fast behind her, ripping her panties off too and giving her ass a hard smack.
"Fuck! That hurt!" She yelped.
It only earned her an ever harder smack. She yelped again but this time she didn't say any words, just the cry of pain. He opened his jeans fast and without warning he thrust into her. His thrust was hard enough for her to lose her balance and fall face first down on the floor. He preferred her down like that but she pushed herself back up on her hands.
"Stay down!" He growled.
He grabbed her wrists and locked them behind her back, forcing her face first down on the carpet again. He held her in an iron grip while his hips worked like an unstoppable force, slamming into her as hard as he could. She whimpered and moaned, clearly in pain and pleasure at the same time, and it only made him try to hit into her even harder and deeper. She wanted the beast so she would fucking get the beast. All of him. Until she screamed.
"You like that, you little whore? You're just a fucking pain slut, aren't you? You want me to fuck you on the floor like a dirty animal until I break you, don't you?" He hurled the insults at her.
"God, yes! Please, Dean, fuck me! Hurt me!" She cried.
He did everything he could to do just that. He couldn't recall the last time any woman had asked him to hurt her and actually mean it but he could feel how her walls clenched around him and he could hear how she moaned in pleasure. She was loving it just as much as him.
He let go of her wrists and instead placed a hand on her back to made sure she stayed down while his other hand came down on her ass again, this time as hard as he could. He had never hit a woman that hard before and he wasn't sure if he had finally stepped over the line.
"Dean!" She cried out. "Again! Please!"
His hand came down again, several times, he lost count on how many times. He kept hitting her ass that quickly turned bright red and he didn't stop until she screamed out and started shaking violently. Her pussy got incredible tight as she came but he managed to continue with his hard thrusts through it, giving her everything he could until he let go himself and came inside her.
He grabbed her hips to keep her on her knees. It felt like she would fall down completely if he let go. For a little while they stayed locked together like that until he finally grabbed her hair and yanked her up to lean against his chest.
"You liked that? You liked being fucked like a dirty, little whore?" He asked.
"It was fucking amazing," she answered.
"Fucking, little slut," he traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. "I know your name, I know your address and I know what you look like. Keep your eyes on the calender. When WWE rolls into town again, I'll come seeking you out no matter where you might hide."
A small whimper left her. Clearly she was lost for words by that promise but he felt how her body tensed with expectation. He moved her forward gently, no need to hurt her anymore now, and got back up on his feet. He tucked his dick back in his jeans and closed them. She just sat on her knees on the floor and watched him.
"Monica," he smiled at her.
He leaned down, grabbed her chin and placed a soft kiss on her lips.
"Sweet dreams," he said.
He turned around and walked over to pick up his leather jacket from the floor. She stayed on the floor, watching him put on the jacket and give her one final look over his shoulder before walking out of the front door.