#yes this is punkintyre inspired

[furiosophie]

"he says he hates me. i think he loves me. he's definitely obsessed with me."

[punker-topia]

forever your valentine

(cm punk/drew mcintyre)

just a quick drabble inspired by @fantasticalleigh's recently shared valentine's day punkintyre art (a very, very beautiful work)

tags: fluffy, valentine's day, explicit sexual content, teasing

matches with cm punk always get way too intense — drew should know that by now. they’ve been wrestling with each other almost every week, meeting each other with nasty insults for the camera, getting under each other’s skin in a way that quickly results in a brawl. it tends to get more physical between the two than with any other wrestler — maybe it’s because they have history. maybe it’s because they know each other’s deepest weaknesses, and it’s way too easy to rub salt and vinegar onto each other’s wounds.

drew aches everywhere, and he’s sure that his lower lip is split, but he can’t be too bothered to look too much into it now. he stares at himself in the mirror of the bathroom, all fogged up due to the steam of the shower he just took to relax his muscles, and pushes his hair back. He chuckles for a second, thinking, what a nice valentine’s day gift that bastard gave me—a fucking beating.

and said bastard is just outside, laying on his back on drew’s bed and tapping his feet on the ground after taking a shower in his own hotel room, because punk needed too to get rid of the blood staining his skin and the dull ache in his arms and legs. he’s so fucking bruised — drew’s own doing. it always is. 

when the door of the bathroom finally opens, no man is surprised to see each other, but they share a smile. punk props himself up on his elbows, watching drew take slow steps towards him on the bed, both with smirks on their lips. 

“hey, big guy,” punk says, watching drew’s form. he a strong, strong, big man, so attractive with his long black hair and eyes the color of the ocean, so damn manly with his black beard and a constant teasing look on his face, like he’s challenging every single person that dares to look in his direction. 

right now, with only a towel around his hips and the water dripping down his hairy chest, punk absolutely eats drew up with his eyes, and he’s not shy about it. 

“my eyes are up here, you pervert,” drew teases, already feeling a familiar heat licking at his loins when he notices punk wearing, once again, one of those damned tight pants of his, the jeans leaving nothing for imagination when he looks at punk’s strong thighs. punk quickly notices it, eyebrows arching.

“my eyes are up here too, but i can see you mentally undressing me right now and i’m not complaining about it,” punk reasons, and drew laughs. stepping closer to the bed, drew’s pleased when punk parts his legs to allow drew to fit between them. drew, then, leans down, pressing his palms on the bed, and when their faces are close, he can see punk’s eyes on his lips, anticipating the kiss that drew doesn’t have the heart to deny him.

the kiss is short and simple, but full of meaning. it’s the first time they’ve been able to be alone today, and it’s special, because they’ve had a brutal match and it’s valentine’s day. they long to spend some time with each other. 

it takes a long time for them to pull away from each other. drew bites punk’s lower lip; punk’s hand goes to drew’s wet, soft hair when their tongues finally meet. they play with each other’s mouth without the intention to tease, but simply because they missed having each other like this, in a moment made for them and them only, not for the cameras or for the whole world to see. 

when they finally pull apart, it’s with a smack that echoes through the bedroom. punk licks his lips, tasting the remnants of drew’s saliva on them. “hi,” drew says almost shyly, and punk thinks it’s fucking cute to see a man like him, a huge and tall man like him being so precious unconsciously. 

“hi,” punk murmurs back, studying drew’s face, brushing his hair back with his fingers, tucking a few strands behind his ear. “you feeling okay?”

“mhmm, mostly yes,” drew nods, leaning up, standing in between punk’s legs. he stretches his body and punk sits up, placing his hands on drew’s waist, caressing the skin there. “but i’m not gonna lie, you punched my head so hard that i had to take ibuprofen right after leaving the ring. i’m hurting all over, but i’m used to it. you’re a wrestler too, you’re familiar with the pain.” 

“i am, but i’m sorry about the punches to your head. i like to get bloody and violent with you on the mat, but i don’t like to see you hurting,” punk presses a kiss to drew’s stomach, very aware of the only thing covering drew’s nudity — a single towel. “you fucked my back as well, so we’re even,” he shrugs. 

“that’s just because you’re old,” drew teases — their age difference isn’t big, but drew likes to see punk get mad at him because of it whenever drew brings it up. 

punk narrows his eyes, his hair falling onto his forehead. drew thinks he looks a little boyish like this, without his hair gelled up — it makes his green eyes stand out. “i don’t see you bringing up my age when you’re choking me on the ring or on your cock, drew.”

“you can’t talk back at me while you’re being choked, phil, especially when you’re choking on my cock, which you happen to like a lot,” drew points out. punk mumbles a fuck you to him under his breath. “oh, come on, punk, don’t get all mad right now, yeah? it’s valentine’s day. shouldn’t we be enjoying it together now that we have some time alone?”

punk gently pushes drew back and gets up, standing in front of him. their height difference is noticeable — punk needs to look up in order to stare at drew’s eyes. drew already has that malicious gaze on punk, a sly smile on his lips. 

“just after i beat your ass at the ring and beat you so fucking much that you couldn’t even get up? yeah, we should. that win was my valentine’s day gift,” punk laughs, even when drew shakes his head at him. punk is a menace, in and out of the ring, in and out of the bedroom. 

“that’s fair,” drew hums, and his hands are quick to embrace punk’s waist and pull him closer to him. punk smells like soap and mint, like comfort and danger at the same time. punk wraps his arms around drew’s neck, and drew steals a quick peck from him. “but what about my valentine’s day gift? was the beating supposed to be my gift as well?”

“not at all,” punk caresses drew’s nape, and drew is then pushed towards the floor-to-ceiling windows of the hotel room until his back meets the glass, warmth against coolness. a shiver runs down his spine. “i thought of something a little more… spicy,” punk whispers against drew’s lips before kissing him, and drew holds punk’s waist tight, one of his hands sliding underneath his shirt because he needs to touch skin, needs to feel punk’s body against his own.

it’s dangerous what they are doing, but absolutely no one can see them. drew’s room is in one of the top floors of the building. there’s only the stars in the sky to watch, only the stars to witness the way punk forces drew to turn around and presses him against the window with his own body. drew’s hands steady himself as he places his palms on the glass in front of him, and he closes his eyes immediately when punk’s hands slide down his chest, one of them cupping his peck and the other sliding under his towel, grabbing his hardening cock. 

“this is what i wanted to do to you, because you’ve been so good for me today, drew,” punk whispers against the skin of drew’s back, kissing, nibbling and licking at it, tasting drew on the tip of his tongue. drew gasps loudly, pressing his forehead against the window. punk’s hands are very skilled, not only to inflict pain but also pleasure — it should be criminal the way punk slowly jerks off his cock and teases his nipples. drew whimpers, quickly wetting punk’s palm with his precum, especially when he feels how hard punk’s getting behind him. 

“you were so beautiful on that mat, drew,” punk breathes out, rubbing his thumb on the head of drew’s cock. drew’s cock is heavy and hot in his hand, thickening at each movement of punk’s palm. drew feels like he’s going crazy — the pain he feels in his body mixed with the sudden pleasure gets him almost dizzy. 

“please,” drew groans, rubbing his ass somehow still covered by the towel against punk’s clothed cock. 

“breathing hard, sweaty, in pain, pissed off because you lost to me,” punk chuckles, and drew opens his eyes only to see punk’s inked hands doing a mess to his body. “because you let this old man beat you, right? isn’t that right, big man? so, so hard for me,” punk lets out a groan, and drew’s hands are getting sweaty, sliding off the window. he tries hard to steady himself, but he knows he won’t fall. punk’s got him. he’s always got him.

“i love you,” the confession comes suddenly, and drew’s heart beats like crazy inside his chest. he knows it already, but every single time he hears it, it’s like the first time. “i’ll meet you in a cell or an elimination chamber pod anytime, valentine.”

[thlayli-ra]

Omg i didn't know you were scottish, did you expect to like drew in the past? It must be funny to you

I mean, I've always liked Drew - Scotland is a small country so we're always very excited when one of our own succeeds. By the time I got back into wrestling, he was home in ICW which I kept tabs on then, and I've followed him since from his return to NXT then to the main roster. However, he was never one of my special guys...

..until he started feuding with Punk! In the beginning, it was kinda like living vicariously through Drew lol but over time he's really burrowed his way into my brain. No denying he's a very bonnie specimen and looks incredible in a pair of trunks! I'm not sure what changed exactly but this feud and this pairing has just ignited something in me like a stick of dynamite!

Maybe it's because Drew is so unapologetically Scottish. He wears a kilt, has tartan on his gear, bagpipes blare out for his entrance and a lot of what he says and does are little nods or in-jokes for Scots, especially Scottish football fans (I come from a football-daft family). This whole feud has such a Scottish flavour to it, and it's so surreal for me because... IT'S CM FUCKING PUNK!!! The guy I have been obsessed with for over nine years and is so far removed from my world that he's practically fictional to me!

But he's out there wearing Scottish-inspired suits (according to my conspiracy theory), he's pronouncing Glasgow horribly and THEN he's in Glasgow, the exact same city at the exact same time as me, like I'm breathing the same bloody air as him and it's utterly mind-blowing! He was in the Celtic shop that I passed that very morning, he's taking photos of street art that I have also taken photos of. He visited the goddamn Necropolis - and look here's me, four years ago, in the Necropolis, in my goddamn CM Punk hoodie!!!!

It's sooooo surreal and wonderful!

Going to Smackdown in Glasgow was also a turning point for my love of Drew. He was our go-home dark match and it was my highlight of the night! Seeing him in his blue gear, waving the St Andrew's flag, talking about taking WWE to Murrayfield one day (MY BELOVED MURRAYFIELD!!! Ngl I welled up at that!). It cemented his place in my heart and once the show was over I went and bought his shirt. Now I even have a Punkintyre-inspired outfit (Drew T-shirt, Punk hoodie.... so I think that means Punk's topping???)

Anyway, sorry, this got loooooong! So yes, it is funny to me! And awesome! And I love it! And I never, ever want it to end and I'll be devastated when it does! And I also find it funny when fanfic writers mention his strong Scottish accent because he has such an American twang. He did get a lot broader while he was home though. Anyway...

[seasonal-depression-of-punk]

I’m gonna declare myself as THE artist of punk as the dominant one in the punkintyre dynamic

Yes. I’ve been inspired to draw something because of Monday.