#winner fiction

[moonlight-records]

And The Winner Is... | T. Wolff (Part I)

pairing: Toto Wolff x reader

summary: you love sabrina carpenter and your icon is giving one lucky audience member pink fuzzy handcuffs before 'Juno'. the catch? she's picking men more then females. it's a great thing that your boyfriend is really hot

warning: besides age gap (reader is in her 20's), none!

fc: none!

wc: 916

current | part 2

“On a scale from one to ten, how much do you tolerate me?”

“What?”

Toto looks up from his paperwork and stares at you, “do you mean how much do I love you?”

“No, I know what I said.”

Toto can’t help but stare at you. He glances away then back, not really sure how to respond to the question that is still lingering in the air. Finally, Toto rubs his face slowly as he drops his hands gently on the table, “I love you a lot therefore on a scale of one to ten, I would fall past ten.” Tilting his head slightly, “Why?”

“I bought concert tickets and I want you to go with me.” You admit smiling sheepishly.

“And do I know this artist?”

“Probably not. Unless you’ve always secretly listened to Sabrina Carpenter,” you make your way over to him. “It’s okay if you do, I don’t judge.”

Toto’s brow comes together in thought, “is that the small blonde you’ve been listening to?” Toto watches you confirm and he slowly nods. “So, you bought concert tickets?”

“Yeah.the company working with Team Sabrina released some VIP tickets so I got them actually and it’s a pre-show party with foods and merch and I get to be in the pit and all.” you start and shift slightly, “though…I did buy two tickets and sadly my friends are pretty busy that night so…”

"You want me to go to a concert with you?” Toto starts, “to a…pop? Yes, pop artist concert?” Toto puts his hands together while resting his forehead against them, “I understand why you asked me how much I tolerate you.” He can’t help the ghost of a smirk forming on his face when you make some noise before looking up and sighing gently, “When is it?”

“Next week from today.”

Toto brings his gaze to his computer as he starts to look through his calendar. He sees that he is free that day and he leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, “Okay, be honest with me. Why do you want me to come with you?”

“For a date night, obviously,” you start as you round the corner and sitting on his desk, “we haven’t had one in forever and the break is almost done and it would be fun!” You smile at Toto before seeing the pointed look you give and you sigh, “Okay, maybe that’s not the only reason that I want you to come with me.”

“Obviously,” Toto remarks and smirks slightly, “so please. Explain why you want someone like me to assist you at this concert.” He raises a brow

“Because I really want to be the lucky winner of some pink fuzzy handcuffs that Sabrina gives out to a lucky person in the pit,” you whine softly as you lean forward, “pleaaaaaase.”

Toto is taken aback, surprised at the information you just told him, “Wh—pink fuzzy handcuffs? Why is she…” he shakes his head. This is not the time to ask about that, there are more pressing issues at hand. “How do I play into that?”

“Because she typically picks men over women and you just stand out and you are just so hot babe you’d be a shoo in for these cuffs.” You beam a smile to your boyfriend before you stand up and grab Toto’s shoulders gently, staring him dead in the eyes, “please, you would make me the happiest girl already if you got me these cuffs.”

Toto stares at you and sighs softly as he weighs his options, “Well, what’s in it for me?”

“Well,” you lean back, “free food. Free drinks—”

“Being stuck in an arena that is going to be extremely hot,” Toto interjects, “and loud, and probably result in a headache from the music and the people. Not to mention my ears ringing.”

���You get earplugs,” you pout slightly before leaning in a bit, “Toto. Listen to me. If you end up winning those cuffs, I will not only let you use them on me all night but I will drag you to the bathroom the moment the show is over and blow you into next year, okay?”

You weren’t very vocal when it came to being intimate. It’s not that you weren’t, you and Toto had a very healthy sex life, you just had never been one to really be into dirty talking or anything really vocalize outside of closed doors but this was different. You had been a long time Sabrina Carpenter fan and how many times could you win pink fuzzy handcuffs from your favorite artist to sing one of the horniest songs known to man while being able to handcuff your boyfriend?

Yeah, you had to make sure Toto knew what was on the line for these handcuffs. 

You watch the gears turn in Toto’s head as you take in his wide eyes and mouth open silently. You slowly nod when it finally clicks for Toto and he starts to slowly nod, “so, do you wanna come to this concert with me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good, good.” You smile and cup his face before giving Toto a gentle kiss. You pull back and kiss his cheek. “Okay! I have to go buy us matching outfits, I’ll be back!” 

“Okay Schatz,” Toto takes a moment, “Hey! No! Do not buy me an outfit!” He shouts and you laugh softly but manically because you are buying him an outfit that he’ll secretly love when the shock is over.

[queereads-bracket]

WINNER: Queer Fiction Free-for-All Book Bracket

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin

A groundbreaking work of science fiction, The Left Hand of Darkness tells the story of a lone human emissary to Winter, an alien world whose inhabitants spend most of their time without a gender. His goal is to facilitate Winter's inclusion in a growing intergalactic civilization. But to do so he must bridge the gulf between his own views and those of the completely dissimilar culture that he encounters.

Embracing the aspects of psychology, society, and human emotion on an alien world, The Left Hand of Darkness stands as a landmark achievement in the annals of intellectual science fiction.

Science fiction, classics, speculative fiction, anthropological science fiction, distant future, adult

Runners-up:

🥈 The Murderbot Diaries series by Martha Wells 🥉 Time to Orbit: Unknown series by Derin Edala 🥉 Nimona by ND Stevenson

View the spreadsheet of all books from this bracket here

View the full seeded matchup here

This is Left Hand of Darkness's second win, after previously winning the Queer Adult SFF Books Bracket!

[aarontveitisonfire]

Aaron Tveit is dying to work on a big Epic World building fantasy project. (16:30 interview)

Interviewer: You're great in the show [Earth Abides]. Hopefully you get a Game of Thrones style role coming your way in the future cuz I'd love to see you do it. Aaron: Thank you! Red Rising. That's the one I want to see. [laugh]

Also on portraying Charlie in new TV series Earth Abides (11:00 interview)

Aaron: I was very excited to do it. I've jokingly said to people but I'm actually serious like if could just play like Gary Oldman as bad guys my whole life, I would be so happy.

Watch full interview here. [I think this is the best interview for Earth Abides press so far.]

[19agbrown]

Merlin Fic Poll Winner

Here is the winner of the Merlin fic poll.

When Worlds Collide

Merlin gets hit with a spell meant for Arthur, and gets transported to another dimension where he had died during The Poisoned Chalice.

Meanwhile, his Arthur believes Merlin to be dead, and spirals.

Finished product is 14k words, but this is just the first chapter. There are 12 chapters in total. They're not long, but they pack a lot of detail.

Rated M. I'm pretty sure no archive warnings really apply, but I used "chose not to use archive warnings" just in case.

[daphlandia]

"paper stars & promise cakes" is my first markhelena fic.

i hope you read it, i enjoyed writing it so much!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64970983/chapters/167027542

[jynxedshapeshifter]

I don't even need to know Eustace's backstory to get the vibe that his behavior is a result of trauma tbh. Like I DO know what his dad is like, and I'm sure Excelsius will move up a few spots on the "I want to throw them into the Thames" list when I finish Prosecutor’s Gambit, but I cannot help but notice Eustace asks for Gavèlle's reassurance a lot. It's making me really sad honestly. Like this poor kid acts SO confident but seeks reassurance too much for his confidence to be completely genuine. Eustace deserves a hug

[feketeribizli]

WAIT super important marci question i just thought of. when was his first podium? first gp win? has he had any of those already? (thinking about 2024 aston performance....no.....but it can't hurt to ask lmao)

LMAOOO bro still dreaming... bro got a handful of points to his name at best... 😔 love that for realism reasons i have two teams to pray for to have a decent fucking car this season

data could still change but i was thinking his first race was spain (which would mean i killed lance off at his own home race babygirl please forgive me) so that makes his second race (austria) be his first points race (another benefitter of the norstappen attempted murder). might rewatch those last handful of races and make up stats for him...

marci when he gets promoted to f1 but the team is in shambles the team is shite

[wordshaveteeth]

History is a silent record of people who could not leave, it is a record of those who did not have a choice, you cannot leave when you have nowhere to go and have no way to go there, you cannot leave when your children cannot get a passport, cannot go when your feet are rooted in the earth and to leave means tearing off your feet.

- Paul Lynch, Prophet Song

[slightlydraconic]

I'm very excited to start @batmanisagatewaydrug's 2025 book bingo! This is such a fun variety of categories. I haven't decided what I'll read for most of the spaces yet, but I have a few ideas to start:

Reread a Childhood Favorite: Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke was my absolute jam as a kid and I've been meaning to revisit it for awhile.

Sequel: Recently learned that Dragon Rider has a sequel, The Griffin's Feather, which I've never read! Amazing!

Published Before 1950: I've never actually read all of Dracula by Bram Stoker, and I really want to this year.

Bookseller or Librarian Rec.: One of my friends is a librarian, and in the past he has highly recommended The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov, which intrigues me.

I'll be looking for more titles to fit the other categories, and am definitely taking recommendations if anyone has them!

[thedoomedhometown]

And the poll winner is

Chrono Trigger, with the disaster being Lavos: an asteroid impact and the living being within the asteroid emerging billions of millennia later, creating a supervolcanic eruption and a verneshot (displacement of material into the upper atmosphere, for it to rain back down equivalent to an asteroid impact/meteor storm)

I'm going to be brushing up on research on this and writing it up as best as I can over this week - like some of our disasters (e.g. the close runner up of Xenogears' Disc 2 with nanomolecular gray goo/mutation zombie apocalypse) this is one that's mostly speculative/hypothetical - even the closest analog we have in real life (the Chixculub impact) is something no one living thankfully experienced, although there's smaller impacts that have been (Tunguska, Chelyabinsk) and a lot can be inferred from those and calculations from nuclear weapon yields and the like.

Similarly, no supervolcanic eruption has happened in the real world since Krakatoa, so while it's somewhat more easy to model from living memory than an extinction level asteroid (and we do know more about volcanoes and how they work than asteroids and comets) there has never been a true verneshot within human existence (which would require a lot more power than even Krakatoa provided, it would likely need at least a level of the Toba catastrophe)

Congratulations to the people who voted for Chrono Trigger, and I shall have this up sometime within the week: I'm going to do some more research, update what I know from what real events and science we do have, so while I'm obviously speculating, I'm not JUST regurgitating something like Supervolcano or History Channel Doomsday and covering the same territory they did but for the setting of Chrono Trigger. (And unlike Doomsday, I promise there will be NO CGI butt plugs presented as Balanced Rock at Arches National Park. Not even joking, I just saw that episode again...)

Also, to be truly pedantic, since Lavos is a "living being," this would also qualify as an "alien attack," but I'm going with "asteroid, supervolcano, and verneshot" since that's the apparent effects and how it did its damage - it didn't say release armies or biological substances, didn't intentionally terraform aside from the results of its arrival, didn't take over existing power structures (but did get found/used by them) and seemed to do most of its damage just from being an impacting object and then from coming out from the ground.

Although that might be an interesting point for the write-up about true accidents/purely natural disasters/competing access need events: e.g. disasters that no one could have prevented because everyone/everything involved was operating exactly as intended/just as it does, and the bad consequences could not have been reasonably foreseen/were foreseen way too late, or it wasn't really anyone's specific fault but just one of bad placement for population/competing needs - e.g. in this fictional scenario, a planet devourer that just needs a solid meal, unfortunately the place is populated.

[pharawee]

Tag Game - Poll: 5 Fav Characters

Challenge: Make a poll with five six of your all time favourite characters, and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite.

I was tagged by @pickletrip (thaaaank you! 💜) so I decided to do it again, only this time with my favourite thirdwheelers/pathetic little meow meows (many thanks to @zhouxiangs for reminding me that I made a grave mistake by not including Wahl in the last poll).

For your consideration:

Tagging another five six people because this tag game is fun as heck: @tortibomb @markmybirds @befuddledcinnamonroll @leonpob @singto-prachaya @scarefox (only if you want to of course 💜)

[thlayli-ra]

The Spider and the Fly

Characters - John Cena, CM Punk

Pairing - John Cena/CM Punk

AU - Winner's Room AU

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - Winner's Room, blood, concussion, choking, rape/non-con, dubcon, Heel!Cena

Words - ~3k words

Summary - Cena claims his Winner's Rights from Punk... and sends a message!

Wanted to get this out before Raw tonight will probably ruin it 😅

For @stripeydani , @d-lanx , @selamat-linting and @are-we-really-doing-this and all the other Punkena shippers out there. Umm but.... I'M REALLY, REALLY SORRY ABOUT THIS!!!! FORGIVE ME FOR I HAVE SINNED!!!!

*** Please note the tags! You have been warned!***

He found Punk in his private locker room, sitting slouched on the far bench with his head in his hands. As soon as he noticed John enter however he slowly straightened up, swiping his hand back over his hair. Cena noted the subtle curl on Punk's lips, the slight softening of his red, puffy eyes, like he had been expecting him. Or hoping he would.

'Hey,' Punk said and a heavy silence hung between them, a membrane as fragile as a bubble, one finger poke away from popping. Punk moved first, the tattooed man getting to his feet with a groan as his aching bones creaked and hobbled towards him. John tensed, readying himself for a confrontation. Instead he was offered a single taped hand. 'Congratulations... Winner.'

Winner! The word sounded strange on Cena's tongue, like a bitter pill he had trouble swallowing. Not that he was unaccustomed to winning; he had enjoyed the lion's share of victories throughout his storied career and was a sure-fire entrant for the Hall of Fame one day.

No, the issue was that he'd won... against Punk!

For over a decade now, Punk had been his banana-peel opponent. The last time he'd defeated him on a Premium Live Event was back when they were still called Pay-Per-Views. Elimination Chamber 2011 to be exact when, just like tonight, he'd eliminated Punk last to become the overall winner. After that, they'd wrestled five times on major events yet Punk had emerged victorious each and every time. He had John's number, could see every one of his Five Moves of Doom coming and counter them effortlessly. No matter what John did, Punk had a knack of running rings around him, all while wearing that unbearably smug grin on his pierced lips.

But things were different now. They were older, slower, balding and greying and that lip ring was now a sad distant memory. But that wasn't all.

Cena stared down at the open palm, thinking back to that moment in the ring when he had extended the same olive branch to Punk, remembering the way the younger man had shook his head, hushed out a 'no', then embraced him in a hug. Now, with the roles reversed, the message was still the same. 'No,' John said at last then rushed forward and wrapped Punk up in a hug of his own. The tattooed man sighed contently, sinking into his Winner's arms he pressed his face against Cena's shoulder.

They lingered there, wrapped up in in each other's warmth, the rest of the world melting away until there was only him and Punk, only them, only this moment. Whatever else existed beyond that door ceased to matter.

'I'm sorry.'

Another echo from the chamber. Punk didn't so much as flinch. 'Don't be,' he said, 'I missed you.'

The ghosts were surrounding them, both men haunted by what had transpired before, but then, hadn't it always been this way? Punk and Cena. Cena and Punk Their legacies entangled, tethered together with unbreakable chains. 'I missed you too,' Cena replied and went to lift Punk's chin with his hand-

But it only broke the spell, the younger man blinking back to reality when he caught sight of red smears marring John's fingers. 'You're bleeding!' Punk exclaimed and in that moment it reverted back to what it used to be. Punk taking charge. 'Sit down. I'll fix you up.'

Cena smiled, enjoying the welcome taste of familiarity. They'd always had this kind of dynamic between them with Punk opting to be the one handling the reigns. Everybody believed Punk was a sub, and for the most part they were right; he got off on being dominated and beaten down. They all witnessed how sweetly the tattooed man writhed with pain, the way he would open his legs as he lay face-down on the mat, suffering beautifully as blood poured down his twisted features.

But how easily they forgot that other side of CM Punk. The one that liked to dangle a hapless victim on the end of a string then twitch his little finger to make them dance. His theme music was 'Cult of Personality' for a good reason; he liked to take poor, broken souls under his charred wings and mould them into his latest devotees. People went insane for Punk - look at Drew, look at Seth - whether they wanted to or not and very few were ever aware of the demon's curse until it had already devoured them whole.

That included Cena. Their first match together, when John had tried to call the plays and Punk had scoffed before putting John in his place quicker than a whipped dog, had changed something in the older man's brain chemistry. Before, he thought Punk was a scraggly misfit, petulant and difficult but after that match, he rapidly became one of John's favourite opponents. He liked Punk being in charge, he liked being able to switch his brain off and let himself be lead for once.

'I said 'sit'.'

John obeyed and took a seat on the bench while Punk grabbed up a towel and headed through to the showers. Left alone for a brief spell, John felt the mask slip from his face. His lips stiffened, his eyes darkened, losing that sparkle of innocence they once held. Yes, things were different now. This time when Punk came to gleefully gnaw on John's soul like a chew toy, the way he always did, he would find nothing there but a festering hole.

'What am I gonna do with you, John-Boy?' Cena swiftly put the mask back on, smiling sweetly at the tattooed man as he wrung the excess water from the towel in the doorway of the shower room. 'Didn't even think I was that rough with you this time.' Punk look up and returned the soft smile, a cheeky light dancing in his gentle hazel eyes.

'You weren't,' John replied, his voice sounding gruff and course in the peace of the locker room. He cleared his throat to sand off the rot. 'Trust me.'

'I do,' Punk said, setting off an invisible spark in the older man's chest, exciting him, 'but if I was man-handling you like you say, then how the hell did you get the pin on me?'

Pin? He hadn't won by pinfall. How did Punk not know that...

Cena thought back to the closing moments of the Chamber. The stomp from Rollins had been brutal, smashing Punk's skull right into the thinly padded steel on the outside of the ring. The worst part was that the tattooed man didn't even see it coming and didn't have a chance to protect himself as his brow collided hard. Now, scanning his eyes over the other man, Cena noting the large welt bruising Punk's forehead, the way he leaned too heavily on the doorframe for support, how sluggish and clumsy every one of movements were.

And in that moment, a wonderful realisation broke on him like a radiant dawn. Punk was concussed, his brain entirely scrambled. He couldn't even remember the end of the match!

'I guess I just wanted it more,' Cena said. Careful there, John. Don't give the game away just yet.

Punk snorted with derision as he stumbled closer. 'Not a chance,' he rebutted, 'I wanted that win more than anybody else in that cage.'

Oh Punk, you're really not that naive, are you? To think that just because you were the only one (that mattered) in the Chamber who's never main-evented Wrestlemania that you were the only one who cared? Punk moved in close to grab up Cena's soiled hand and rub it clean with the damp towel. John watched him, his gaze locked tight as a sniper's rifle. Punk's hazels flicked up briefly, caught him staring and paused, their faces inches from each other.

John's fingers found Punk's dishevelled hair, his hand gliding through the sweaty strands until it clasped the back of his head and pulled him in. Their lips found one another, both men opening wide to welcome their dear friend in. Punk's mouth was warm and moist albeit empty without the tongue bar and even though he'd stopped chewing gum in the ring, it still tasted as sweet as cherry pie, the rich red tang bursting with juices beneath its buttery outer layer.

While they kissed, Cena artfully closed his powerful thighs around Punk's slender waist, locking him in. The Venus flytrap closing its mighty jaws around the fly after luring it in with its nectar.

You wouldn't know, Punk. You wouldn't know because you've never tasted it but closing the Showcase of the Immortals once, twice, five times? It was never enough. It's an urge, a need, a hook that fastens itself deep into a person's lip and hauls them in, much like what I'm doing to you right now.

His other hand trailed down Punk's back, feeling each droplet of sweat catching in the folds of his skin, until it came to rest at his hip, delicately teasing the waistband of his trunks.

Punk pulled away from the kiss abruptly. 'Cool your jets, John-Boy,' he scolded the older man in his best commanding tone, the one that once turned Cena's insides to putty. 'First, we deal with the bleeding then we can have fun.'

John watched as Punk grasped his hand again to wipe the last of the blood off, his expression unchanging, a being made of granite, grey and cold. He had grown tired. Tired of the posturing and the constant need to pander to the masses. His whole career he'd been a victim to the whims of the crowd. They loved him, they hated him. If Cena won, they rioted. He was a boring do-gooder who couldn't wrestle and buried other talent. Then, in that Chamber, when he and Punk had finally come face-to-face, they started to chant.

Let's go Cena! CM Punk!

Let's go Cena! CM Punk!

Memories came flooding back. To times when he was despised by anybody over the age of ten, to when he was seen as a corporate stooge selling out. To when they all put their adoration on a skinny runt from the indies with slicked back hair and a Pepsi tattoo. Punk was a damn dirty heel back then and they revered him, raised him to become the biggest babyface in the company overnight to where he even began outselling Cena's merchandise. He understood why, he'd been there and heard the Pipebomb live, the words spilling from pierced lips like venom. He could see the appeal of CM Punk - the rage, the fire, the danger. It had sucked him in just as easily.

The hand stroking back and forth along Punk's waistband refused to relent until it needed to do more than tease. Without warning, John pushed his hand inside, under the trunks, under the speedo, to grab his trophy between his legs. Punk let out a loud yelp and froze. The fly now paralysed by the spider's bite, ready to be bound up tight and devoured.

'Fuck John, I told you to wait until I'd finished.'

'Then finish,' John rolled his fist along Punk's already semi-hard dick, lavishing in the whimpers it drew from the tattooed man.

'Fine.' Punk grit his teeth, fighting against the sensations wracking his senses. Fighting his basic desires. Fighting. Just like out in that Chamber when he'd kicked out from a Pedigree, kicked out from a Stomp, kicked out from an AA. Again and again. Always fighting.

Never give up, right?

John watched the lines in Punk's face crinkle with every sloping pull of his large hand, spied the crow's feet deepen as his eyes lazily blinked, getting hazy with lust. Just a little more...

Punk wiped the last of the blood, then examined John's hand. Knotting his brow he turned it over, inspecting the back. 'I can't find it,' he said, and John let the sickness take hold, the darkness creeping into his features. 'John, where's your wound?'

Cena smiled. Not that poster boy, all-American smile that made the girls swoon and the kids cheer. Not the cute, dimply smiles he often shared behind closed doors with Punk whenever they found themselves in each other's company. No, he sneered, like a python that finally had its coils wrapped taut around its prey.

'It wasn't my blood,' he said.

The knot deepened. Punk trying to solve the conundrum after only hearing half the riddle. 'Then... who's was it?'

Cena just stared back, quirking his brows.

'John?' He tried that commanding voice again, utterly oblivious to the switch happening between them, how their roles were rapidly reversing. 'Who's blood was it?' Cena refused to answer beyond his vicious sneer. Watching as it all clicked into place in the other man's foggy mind. '...Cody? What did you-? CODY!'

Punk tried to get away but John's legs were locked tight around him like a snare, tightening the more the rabbit struggled. The hand that was only moments ago being tended to so gently by the tattooed man now grabbed him by the throat. Using his superhuman strength, Cena spun Punk around, sending his spine crashing hard into the wall. Punk struggled, beating his fists against the arms that held him. Always fighting. But the more he writhed like an insect stuck on flypaper, the more he became trapped, Cena squashing him tight into the small recess.

'It's too late, Punk,' John informed his prize with a face now devoid of human emotion.

'GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!'

'Stop yelling.'

'FUCK YOU!'

'Fine. I know exactly how to shut little punks up.' The fingers on Punk's throat pressed tighter, pushing into his windpipe. The shouting stopped instantly as Punk's face began to turn a deep pink. Their gazes met and Cena admired the way Punk's red-rimmed, tear-bitten eyes struggled to focus on him. His head injury raging inside his skull. Would he remember this moment too?

He'd make damn sure of it!

It was too easy to rip Punks' flimsy little trunks down, freeing his rock-solid cock. John suppressed a chuckle at the sight as he unbuckled his belt and jorts with his free hand and let them fall to his ankles. 'Sit,' he ordered the younger man, shoving him down by the grip at his neck until he was slouched against the bench, his erect cock standing like a flagpole. Never once releasing his grip on his trophy's throat, Cena mounted him, pushing himself down onto Punk's dick until it broke through his ring of muscle. Punk grimaced, his inked fingers weakly digging into Cena's wrist as he brutally ground his hips down onto him, forcing him further and further in until he was buried deep.

'You surprised?' Cena taunted his prize, who squinted up at him pleadingly, trying to gasp in air. 'This is always how we do it, right?'

John started to bounce, feeling Punk's cockhead rub up and down his passage. And every so often while he rode his trophy, he squeezed Punk's neck a little tighter. See, the problem with the STF is that his opponent was always facing away so he never got to see their expression as he applied the pressure and in the Chamber, when Punk was being cruelly crushed beneath Cena's weight, his little porcelain body going limp as he passed out, the sensation had felt so delicious that Cena wished with all his heart he could see the life fade from Punk's eyes himself.

Now here, in his Winner's Room, he got his opportunity. His eyes never once leaving Punk's face. Watching as his eyebrows steepled up pleadingly, meeting in the middle like two hands touching in prayer. His eyelids drooped over his glassy hazels while his mouth hung open. Cena hooked his finger in, dragging it across his slack lower lip.

Yes, things had changed and this was how it was meant to be. With Cena on top, the king on his throne and everybody else firmly beneath him. He'd understood the moment he'd witnessed Punk, dazed from Seth's vicious final stomp, hanging limply, half-suspended by the bottom rope with his ass up, begging to be bred like a prize bitch in heat. He had relented to this little slut for too long and it was time to finally stamp his authority on him like a brand.

He punctuated that sentiment with another savage drive onto Punk's cock. His trophy was failing now, going under, so Cena grabbed his own throbbing cock and pumped it urgently, pushing himself over the edge. He came with a grunt, soiling his trophy's stomach and thighs with his red hot cum. After catching his breath for a moment, he stood up, yanking himself free of Punk's dick. It flopped, his erection wilting like a flower in the frost.

Then finally, Cena released the hold on his neck. Punk fell, collapsing to the floor at John's feet. The older man admired the view as he pulled his pants back up and buckled them securely. Once dressed, he nudged the lifeless corpse at his feet with his toe, laughing as he placed his sneaker against Punk's head and shoved it into the dirt, just like he had done with Cody only moments before.

'Well Punk,' he spoke aloud, his voice booming against the eerie quiet of the locker room, 'while you lay there, hopefully as uncomfortable as you can possibly be, I want you to listen to me.' He bent down low, closer to Punk's ear. 'I don't hate you Punk. I don't even dislike you. I like you a hell of a lot more than I like most people in the back. I just hate this idea that you're the Best in the World.'

Grabbing a fistful of hair, he lifted Punk's heavy head off the floor, watching as a line of drool ran from his lips to the tiles below.

'Because you're not. I'm the best!'

He let go, heard the crunch of Punk's face hitting the ground then stood up. Grabbing one of Punk's towels he wiped himself clean as he left the carnage behind in his wake.

'And I'm gonna remind each and every one of you.'

[i-cast-zone-of-truth]

Ok but to take the idea of the Kingdom in botw-totk seriously for a second. “Kingdom” means different things in botw vs totk:

In botw, an actual State existed with government and systems etc and when ppl sigh wistfully over it, they’re thinking of the protections offered by that hegemony, but it’s been a hundred years and they don't remember everything that that meant. they can only imagine that world— but it must have been very great! Just look at the mess it left behind!

Totk’s Kingdom refers to “the place where all Link’s friends live.” still bounded by the canyon, the desert, and the ocean…. but the return of one princess does not a unifying government make. The different peoples clearly govern themselves, and look kindly on Zelda who after all only shows up to help (accompanied by 1-5 hylians max). She doesn’t need an army, because she’s not threatening to re-subjugate anyone; she’s just here to study the local insect species, please.

Link losing his memory has more than one upside, because not only did he not immediately have to remember everyone he would feel he’d personally failed in the Calamity, but 100 years ago he was Fully Bought In to the whole Kingdom thing, and it would have been incredibly rough to throw him directly from that into this disordered, emptied place and expect him to see something beautiful.

[lezarus]

i cant be a multishipper. trust me ive tried. fundamentally my brain is wired in a way where if i like a character a lot i need them to beat the ass of anyone else who’s interested in their partner emotional and/or physically. i need them to WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!

[luvinaeverdene]

The Shape of Water (2017)

Directed by Guillermo del Toro

[luminouscloudsworld]

Our grown up boy, looking so regal.