CM PUNK WWE SummerSlam, August 2nd, 2025
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CM PUNK WWE SummerSlam, August 2nd, 2025
Good for them.
SUMMERSLAM KICKOFF | 08.01.25
Method Man at WWF SummerSlam 1998 in Madison Square Garden
Getting Even
CM Punk (Phil Brooks) x reader
TW: Lowkey emotional yāall. Itās basically Y/N avenging Punk losing his title at SummerSlam. Regular wrestling violence. SMUT!!! MDNI!! Oral (m & f receiving), pnv, creampie, use of nicknames (slut, whore, etc.), praise kink, choking kink, rough sex, fingering, hair pulling, marking, just lots of smut lmao. Also, I had a request that was somewhat similar to this, but I forgot to add it. So Iām so sorry to the anon that requested it š
Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:*ᓵāįµ įµįµįµįµ įµį¶¦į¶ įµĖ” (ź ź³ źāæ)*:dļ¾ā§*
Y/N watches on from backstage nervously as Phil continues on with his match against Gunther. Her match isnāt until tomorrow, a triple threat against Naomi and Rhea for the Womenās World Championship, but she wasnāt going to miss her manās match against the Ring General.
Phil hadnāt told her anything about the match. She has no idea what the outcome will be, but just watching the first few minutes, she knew it was going to be brutal. She watches as Phil gets his hits in, the match clearly in the shine stage. However, when the cutoff comes, she flinches as Guntherās chop echoes off Philās chest.
Theyāre both professionals. They wouldnāt sandbag each other on such an important match. But that still doesnāt mean Y/N doesnāt get squeamish seeing him get hit so roughly. Sheās taken her fair share of chops, but none of Guntherās caliber.
āCāmon babyā¦ā she mutters under her breath, biting her nails.
āI donāt think Iāve ever seen you this nervous,ā Pam says teasingly as she walks up to Y/N, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. āNot even for your own match.ā
āI just donāt want him to get hurt,ā Y/N admits, her eyes never leaving the screen, but she does lean into her friend.
āWell, I canāt promise he wonāt,ā Pam says softly. āBut I know his main goal is to get back here to you in one piece,ā she rubs her shoulder reassuringly. āYou scare him more than anything, and you were very adamant about him making it back to you.ā
Y/N laughs softly, looking down briefly before glancing back up to the screen. Phil lands a good strike making her grin. It was one she remembered running through with him. āI trust him. I know heāll be okay. Butā¦ā she exhales loudly, āDoesnāt stop me from worrying about him.ā
āYouāve always been a worry wart,ā Pam chuckles. āYou should try relaxing every now and again. Itās good for ya.ā
āIāll relax once this match is over,ā Y/N huffs out.
Pam pats Y/Nās back, āWell, donāt give yourself wrinkles. At least not before tomorrow.ā She pats her back before taking off towards production, one of the writers calling out to her.
Y/N zeroes in back on the match. She watches her boyfriend and Gunter climb on top of the announce table. A gasp leaves her lips when Punk takes Gunther down, the man hitting the table face first before falling down behind it. Phil falls to the floor, crawling across slowly. She knew he was selling, but part of her knew some of him was hurt.
Thatās when Gunther emerges from behind the table, blood cascading down his face. Y/N covers her mouth, feeling terrible for the Ring General, but mostly just grateful it wasnāt Phil in that position. If she saw him emerge with that amount of blood on his face, she wouldāve lost her mind.
Punk slides over to the corner of the ring, wincing as he catches his breath. Y/N can feel her heart rate increasing, waiting and hoping this match is nearing the end. She despises the fact he wouldnāt tell her the way this match was going to go. What was going to happen.
Punk scrambles to pull himself up the side of the ring. Gunther manages to stumble to his feet, rushing into the ring before Punk can. Eventually, Phil gets to his feet, pulling himself inside. The sweat matted his hair to his forehead. He winced once more before cornering Gunther at the turnbuckle. He throws a few strikes before hitting him with a running knee. Y/N holds her breath as Punk climbs up to the top rope before delivering a flying elbow to the Ring General.
Heās tired, she can see it. But he uses the crowd to his advantage, taking their cheers and morphing it into energy. He makes his āgo to sleepā hand gesture before turning his attention back to Gunther. He tries to pick him up, but the larger man manages to slip off Punk's back before locking in the sleeper hold.
āDamn itā¦ā Y/N mumbles, foot bouncing rapidly. Theyāre nearing the end, she can feel it. But Punk has never been the type to tap. He wouldnāt lose this match to the sleeper. Itās not in his blood. Creative would never book him that way.
Punk claws at Guntherās hands, the blood on the Austrian manās face blocking whatever sight he had. She exhales loudly as Punk makes it to his feet, fighting out of the hold. Her jaw drops slightly as Phil gets Gunther on his shoulders before delivering a perfect GTS.
She shakes her head when Gunther remains on his feet. He staggers, clearly not fully present in the moment. Punkās chest heaves with each difficult breath before he finds the strength to hoist him up and hits him with a second GTS.
Gunther falls to the floor, allowing Punk to dive in for the cover.
1ā¦
2ā¦
3ā¦
CM Punk is the new world champion.
Y/N feels her heart practically leapfrog out of her chest. She smacks a hand over her mouth, eyes welling with tears. āHe did itā¦ā she mumbles. Thereās a short pause before she laughs joyously. āOh my fucking gosh. He did it!ā
She feels her feet carrying her to gorilla before she can stop herself. She can see in passing monitors the emotions on her boyfriend's face. The way tears fill his eyes as he clutches the title he so desperately wanted to win. He hugs it towards himself like if he were to hold it any looser, it might disappear from his grasp. He deserves this. Out of everyone she knows, he deserves this win. Over ten years heās waited for this moment, and now he finally got it.
Sheās about to run out there to celebrate with him in the ring, kayfabe be damned, when the familiar scream of Seth Rollins music hits. Y/N pauses, her blood running cold as she sees the back of Sethās man bun disappear from behind the curtain.
Thereās no way. Heās hurt. Thatās what he and Becky have been telling people. Thatās why he hasnāt shown up to work. He wouldnāt be cashing in. He couldnāt be. Not when Punk just won. Not when he just fought like hell to get a title he deserved. After losing to John Cena at Night of Champions, this had to be his moment. They wouldnāt take it away from him.
Y/N slows, her footsteps bringing her to the edge of the curtain as she peeks out from behind. She can hear people whispering for her to move away, but she didnāt care. She had to see for herself. Seth strolls out with his crutches, Paul holding his money in the bank briefcase. Punk looks gutted for a moment before covering it back up with his tough facade. For a moment, Y/N thinks itāll be okay as Seth turns back around to head backstage. Itās just a warning. That heās still lingering in the background.
ā¦Until he drops the crutches.
āNo,ā She shakes her head in disbelief.
Before she can even blink, Rollins is darting down the runway, knee completely fine. Punk grips his title as tightly as he can, crouching down to prepare himself for the fight of his life. Heās beaten down, broken, emotional from finally winning the world heavyweight championship. Of course Seth would cash in now.
Y/N feels her blood boil, grinding her teeth together. She canāt interfere. She canāt do anything. Not now. Maybe if she had known before, she couldāve pulled some strings with creative. Thatās why Phil hadnāt told her. Thatās why he held the title as close to him as he could because he wouldnāt have it for long.
Seth slides into the ring, Punk dropping the title to punch him at full capacity. He tries to lift Rollins up for a GTS, but Seth elbows him in the perfect spot, causing Punk to drop him. Seth manages to get Punk down on the mat, landing haymakers on the back of his head. He grasps his briefcase before slamming it onto the Voice of the Voicelessā back. One after the other. Y/N watches in anger as Rollins spins around and hands his briefcase to Jessica, officially cashing in.
Seth Rollins is cashing in his money in the bank contract.
With Punk practically defensless, Seth lines up in the opposite corner, gaining momentum before stomping his head into the ground. Phil falls face down, selling the hell out of the move. Seth drops to his knees, rolling Punk over before hooking his arm under Philās leg and pinning him.
1⦠2⦠3.
And just like that, Punk is no longer the champion.
Watching Seth celebrate killed Y/N. She wants nothing more than to run out there and kick his ass for what he just stole from Phil. She understands itās part of the business. But after all this build up, all of the āalmost timesā creative gave Punk, they took it away again.
Itās like every time Phil gets close, itās taken away from him. And ninety percent of his failures have been caused because of Seth. She knows that Seth has say in his storylines. He has pull with creative. He didnāt have to do this. He chose to.
Seth sits down right in front of Punkās limp body, title slung over his shoulder while Bronson and Bron continue to rub it in. Eventually, the camera cuts and the show ends. The fans in the audience are all reeling. Seth and his faction are the first to stand up, sauntering backstage with all the power they could want.
Y/N doesnāt move away from the curtain, her feet planted firm as everyone goes about their business. She continues staring at her boyfriend who is just now struggling to his feet, leaving the ring completely deflated.
Her jaw clenches as Seth and the rest of his posse push past the curtain. Seth stops abruptly, coming face to face with the ball of fury standing in front of him. Sheās not showing it, her outward appearance remaining composed, but being the manipulative man he is, he can see exactly how sheās feeling.
He tilts his head, smirk ever so present. He pats the title on his shoulder, āDo me a favor Y/N/N⦠thank your man for keepinā it warm for me while I made my way out. Really appreciate it.ā
He lets out that obnoxious cackle, nodding for his henchmen to follow after him. She inhales sharply, fighting every urge to turn around and get herself suspended. The only thing that stops her is when her boyfriend stumbles through the curtain, practically almost falling into her arms. She wastes no time in pulling him close to her. If this hurt her as much as it did, it mustāve felt like torture for him.
Phil stumbles into her arms, his weight heavier than she expected. His chest is heaving, the sweat on his skin still warm from the lights and the fight. Up close, she can hear how ragged his breathing is, not from the match alone, but from everything that just happened. His hands clutch at her sides like heās trying to ground himself.
She doesnāt say anything at first. She just wraps her arms around him tighter, resting her chin on his damp hair as people walk past, crew members, talent, agents, all of them casting sympathetic glances his way but saying nothing. This wasnāt their moment to intrude on.
āLetās get you out of here,ā she murmurs finally, her voice low, meant only for him. She shifts, hooking her arm around his back, guiding him away from gorilla and deeper into the maze of hallways. He doesnāt resist. His head is down, shoulders rounded, the championship dream slipping further behind with every step they take.
She keeps walking until she finds an empty corner near one of the unused dressing rooms. Itās quiet, just the faint hum of a vending machine and the muffled chaos of backstage somewhere far away.
āPhilā¦ā she says gently, stepping in front of him. She takes his face in her hands, thumbs brushing the damp strands of hair off his forehead. His eyes meet hers, and itās like looking at a man who just got the air punched out of his soul.
āWhy didnāt you tell me?ā she asks, not accusing, but pained.
His jaw works, but no words come out at first. She can see him swallow hard, his throat bobbing. Finally, he exhales, voice cracking on the edges.
āBecause I didnāt want to disappoint you,ā he admits, eyes darting away like he canāt bear to see her reaction. āI came back to win. To prove I could still do it. And tonight⦠I had it. I finally had it.ā His voice breaks on that word. āAnd the second I did, they told me I wouldnāt keep it for longer than five damn minutes.ā
Her stomach twists. Sheās angryāwhite-hot angryābut her first instinct is to wrap him up in her arms again. So she does, pulling him against her chest, her hand stroking the back of his neck. āIām not disappointed in you,ā she says firmly, pressing her cheek to his temple. āIām pissed for you. Youāve fought like hell to get here. Youāve eaten more crap from this business than anyone else wouldāve survived, and youāre still standing. If anyone deserves that title, itās you. Not Seth. You.ā
His arms tighten around her, like her words are the only thing holding him up. He breathes out slowly. āI know Iām closer to the end than the beginning. And the time to win titles⦠itās running out.ā His voice is quiet now, almost a confession. āEvery time I get close, it gets ripped away. Makes me wonder if itās ever gonna happen.ā
She pulls back just enough to cup his face again, forcing him to look at her. āIt will. And Iāll be here every damn time it does or doesnāt. But donāt you ever think youāve got nothing left. Not to me.ā
He tries to smile, but itās faint, like the muscle memory is there but the joy isnāt. She leans in, pressing her lips softly to his. Itās not a heated kissāitās steady, grounding, a promise she canāt quite put into words yet.
When she pulls back, her mind is already working, already sparking with an idea. Something he doesnāt need to know yet. āIāll be right back,ā she whispers, brushing her thumb over his cheek.
Confusion flickers across his face instantly, and his hands tighten at her waist. āNo. Please⦠donāt go. Not right now.ā
She smiles, leaning in so her forehead rests against his. āFive seconds. Thatās all. And when I come back, Iāll still be yours.ā
Itās the way she says it, soft, certain, that makes him reluctantly let his hands fall away. She kisses him again, slower this time, before stepping back. He watches her go with tired, wary eyes, still not sure what sheās about to do.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:*ᓵāįµ įµįµįµįµ įµį¶¦į¶ įµĖ” (ź ź³ źāæ)*:dļ¾ā§*
Y/Nās boots hit the concrete with purpose, every step echoing in the narrow hallway. The buzz of backstage chatter, the crackle of radios, the distant thud of someoneās theme music, it all blurs into white noise behind the pounding in her ears. Sheās not walking so much as cutting through the space, weaving between production crew and talent like a blade through fabric. Her jaw is locked, and her hands are fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.
Philās face, defeated, exhausted, trying to hide how much it gutted him, is burned into her mind. It fuels every ounce of her anger, stoking it into something sharp and focused. Sheās not just mad for him. Sheās furious at the system that keeps doing this to him.
She spots Paul Levesque a few feet ahead, leaning against a road case while talking with a stagehand. Without hesitation, she calls out, her voice cutting through the noise.
āPaul.ā
The way she says his name, low, firm, edged, makes him turn instantly. His brows lift slightly when he sees her expression. The stagehand mutters something about getting back to work and quickly disappears, sensing the shift in the air.
Paul holds his hands up slightly, like heās already trying to head off whatever is about to happen. āAlright, kid, slow downāā
āNo.ā Her voice cuts clean through his. āYou donāt get to āslow downā me right now. You owe me.ā
That gets his eyebrows up. āI owe you?ā
āYes.ā She closes the distance between them in a few quick strides, staring him down like sheās daring him to deny it. āRoyal Rumbleāyou remember? I was supposed to go over. But you wanted Charlotteās big return to be the thing everyone talked about. So I waited. Then Elimination Chamberāyou kept me out of the win because the Bianca, Rhea, and Iyo story needed another month of oxygen. And I waited again.ā Her voice sharpens with each word. āIāve been patient, Paul. That patience is gone.ā
Paul exhales slowly, running a hand over his face. He does love her. Hell, heās the one whoās always said sheās money for the business, and yeah, he owes her. He knows it. But her eyes right now? Theyāre dangerous.
He inhales sharply, long and slow, rubbing his beard like heās stalling for time. āYouāve had good spots, Y/Nāā
She cuts him off with a look that could slice steel. āDonāt. Donāt give me the company line right now. You know damn well youāve been holding me in place because it suited the board, the booking, the storylines. Fine. I played the game. But you promised me a favor. And Iām cashing it in.ā
He shifts, arms folding across his chest. āAlright⦠what is it you want?ā
āI want to interfere in Becky and Lyraās match tomorrow.ā She says it like sheās dropping a grenade at his feet.
His brows furrow. āThatās after your triple threat with Naomi and Rhea.ā
āI know.ā
āYouāre gonna go out there twice? Right after wrestling?ā
āYes.ā Her tone is so even itās unsettling.
He shakes his head slowly. āBeckyās supposed to win, Y/N.ā
āI donāt care.ā The words are quiet, but they hit harder than if sheād shouted them. āYouāll figure out how to fix it. Bayley can challenge Lyra after for the title. Hell, Iāll challenge her if I have to. But Iām not asking you, Paul. This is the favor you owe me. And Iām calling it in now.ā
Something in her expression makes him pauseāitās not reckless rage, itās cold, calculated certainty. He studies her like heās trying to figure out what the hell could be worth her burning her one piece of leverage.
āYou sure you want to use it on this?ā His voice is quieter now.
Her gaze doesnāt waver. āIāve never been more sure about anything.ā
He sighs, heavy, dragging a hand over his face. āYouāre gonna make my life hell, you know that?ā
āProbably.ā Her lips twitch, but thereās no humor in it. āBut youāll thank me later.ā
He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, before finally meeting her eyes again. āAlright. Weāll figure out the right angle.ā
āGood.ā She doesnāt wait for him to say anything else before turning on her heel, her mind already assembling the moment sheāll make it happen. She doesnāt need him to know why sheās doing this. He wouldnāt understand anyway.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:*ᓵāįµ įµįµįµįµ įµį¶¦į¶ įµĖ” (ź ź³ źāæ)*:dļ¾ā§*
Y/N had barely said a word the entire walk back to the hotel. She didnāt need to. Her hand stayed looped through Philās arm, her thumb brushing absently over the inside of his wrist in a rhythm that was more about grounding him than guiding him. When they reached their room, she quietly pulled out the keycard, pushed the door open, and gave him a soft nudge inside.
Phil moved on autopilot, shoulders still hunched, his jaw tight. She could feel the tension radiating off him, the way he was still replaying the loss in his head.
āSit,ā she murmured, pressing her palm to the center of his chest and guiding him to the edge of the bed.
He didnāt argue, but he didnāt look at her either. Y/N crouched down in front of him, tugging at the laces of his boots. āYou donāt have toāā
āYeah, I do,ā she interrupted quietly, glancing up at him. Her voice was gentle, but there was no room for debate. āLet me.ā
One boot, then the other, sliding them off with care. She reached for the jacket next, easing it from his shoulders, and then peeled away the black tank top heād thrown on over his bare torso. She folded each item and set them aside neatly, not because it mattered, but because she knew the orderliness might help him breathe easier.
He huffed out a small, humorless laugh. āYou treating me like Iām a hundred years old?ā
āNo,ā she said simply, brushing her fingers through his hair. āIām treating you like I love you.ā
That shut him up for a second.
She took his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom, twisting the knobs until the water came out hot enough to fog the mirror. Phil leaned on the doorframe, watching her. āYou seriously donāt have to do this, sweetheart.ā
Her nails grazed his scalp as she scratched the back of his head. His breath hitched ā not in a way he could control. He felt that familiar sting behind his eyes again, and it pissed him off because it meant he was gonna cry.
āYouāre right,ā she said softly, āI donāt have to. I want to.ā
Phil just let her undress him the rest of the way, the steam curling around them, and when she stepped in behind him, it wasnāt about anything physical, it was about keeping him upright when the weight of the night was threatening to crush him.
She lathered shampoo into his hair, her nails scratching lightly, and for the first time since the match ended, his shoulders dropped. āGod, that feels good,ā he mumbled, closing his eyes.
āI know,ā she said with a faint smile. āYou always tense up after a loss. Like you think youāre gonna carry it forever if you donāt keep it in your muscles.ā
āI am gonna carry it forever,ā he muttered, voice low.
She didnāt argue. Instead, she rinsed the suds from his hair and reached for the body wash, her touch steady and deliberate as she worked over his chest, arms, and back. āYou donāt have to win every title for me to be proud of you, you know.ā
āI know,ā he admitted, leaning into her hand as she washed his neck. āDoesnāt mean it doesnāt piss me off.ā
āIād worry if it didnāt,ā she teased, and he almost smiled.
When they stepped out, she wrapped him in a towel, drying his hair with another before pulling him into clean sweatpants and a soft t-shirt. He made a face when she reached for the moisturizer.
āSeriously?ā
āSeriously,ā she said, dabbing it on his cheeks before he could escape.
āFeels like Iām in a damn spa.ā
āYouāre welcome,ā she shot back, and that earned her the smallest of smirks. āMaking sure you donāt look like a leather belt by the time youāre sixty.ā
She got him into bed, tucking his water bottle on his nightstand. Itās freshly filled with ice because she knows thatās how he prefers it. As soon as she slid in beside him, he pulled her into his chest like he couldnāt stand the space between them any longer.
They stayed quiet for a while, just the hum of the AC filling the room. Finally, he spoke. āWhatād you have to do before we left?ā
She tilted her head up to look at him, kissing the tip of his nose. āItās nothing you need to worry about. Youāll see tomorrow. Tonightās about you.ā
His voice was hoarse when he said, āWhat I need is you.ā
Her chest tightened. āWell, itās a good thing youāll always have me. And not just tonight. Until the I take my last breath.ā
He pressed his forehead to hers. āI hate losing. I hate watching opportunities slip. But⦠Iām not stupid. I know how lucky I am to have you in my corner. Hell, half the time you are my corner.ā
She smiled, brushing her fingers through his damp hair. āAnd youāre mine. Which is why I know your timeās coming, Phil. Because youāre you. Not because youāre CM Punk. Because youāre Phil Brooks ā the most stubborn, determined, amazing man in the world.ā
He chuckled quietly. āCareful, youāre making me sound like a Hallmark movie.ā
āThatās fine,ā she said. āThen maybe youāll remember it.ā
Phil kissed her temple, lingering there. āI donāt forget things like that.ā
āGood,ā she echoed, and they stayed wrapped together, the quiet settling into something soft and safe, a place neither of them needed to win to deserve.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:*ᓵāįµ įµįµįµįµ įµį¶¦į¶ įµĖ” (ź ź³ źāæ)*:dļ¾ā§*
Y/N stood in front of a mirror in the bustling backstage area, tugging her gloves tight as she checked her gear one last time. The black-and-gold ensemble hugged her in all the right places, glinting under the fluorescent lights, her hair pulled back in a sleek style that screamed confidence. She smiled at a passing production assistant, exchanging a quick āgood luckā with another wrestler who slapped her arm as they walked by.
But then her smile shifted when she caught sight of him.
Phil.
He was moving slower than usual, hands in his hoodie pockets, shoulders slouched, still carrying the weight of last nightās loss like it was chained to him. But the moment his eyes landed on her, his entire face softened. Pride replaced the heaviness, his lips twitching into the faintest smile as if the sight of her knocked the air right out of him.
āYou look⦠Jesus,ā he breathed as he stopped in front of her, eyes dragging from head to toe. ā...You are not walking out there looking like that,ā he said finally, voice low, a little rough.
She raised a brow. āWhyās that?ā
āBecause, sweetheart,ā he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with his foot, āif you do, Iām gonna end up jumping that barricade, dragging you backstage in front of twenty thousand people, and finishing what this outfitās already starting.ā
Her mouth twitched into a smirk, but she didnāt flinch when he got close ā close enough that the heat from his body cut through the cool air of the locker room.
āYou know the cameraās gonna be right in your face,ā he went on, leaning down until his lips brushed the shell of her ear. āAnd all Iām gonna be thinking about is how fast I can get you out of this when itās over.ā
She fought the shiver that ran down her spine. āIāve got a match to win, Brooks.ā
āI know,ā he murmured, thumb skimming along her hip. āAnd Iāll be out there cheering for you, like a good boyfriend⦠but donāt think for a second Iām not gonna be picturing you in that gear under me the whole damn time.ā
Her breath caught before she shoved his chest lightly. āYouāre disgusting.ā
He leaned into her touch, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment. āI mean it. You look ready to steal the whole damn show. Hell, they might as well not book the rest of the card after you go out there.ā
Her grin was warm, but her eyes searched his face. āYou okay?ā
āIām better than I was,ā he admitted, rubbing her hip. āStill pissed about last night, still wanna punch a wall about it, but⦠seeing you like this? Knowing youāre about to go out there and own it? Makes it a little easier to swallow.ā
āGood,ā she murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. āBecause I need you supporting me. I need you loud.ā
āLoud is my specialty,ā he said with a smirk. āYou know Iāll be yelling my lungs out for you.ā
āPerfect.ā She straightened his hoodie, her voice dropping just for him. āWhen this is over, weāll figure out how to get that damn title around your waist. One way or another, itās gonna happen.ā
His hands slid down, gripping the back of her thighs just enough to make her laugh. āDonāt go making me promises Iām gonna hold you to.ā
āOh, I know you will.ā
For a second, they just stood there, locked in their little bubble while the chaos of SummerSlam prep swirled around them. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes locked on hers like he wanted to memorize her face before she went out.
āYouāve been patient,ā he said quietly, like it was something only she deserved to hear. āToo patient. You deserve this win tonight, Y/N. And I hope to God you get it. Not because Iām biasedāwell, okay, I amābut because youāve earned it ten times over.ā
Her chest tightened, and she pulled him in for a slow kiss, not caring who saw. āYouāre my favorite thing in this business, Phil. Win or lose.ā
āYeah?ā he murmured, brushing his nose against hers.
āYeah.ā
He smiled, that rare, real smile that only came out when she got past all the walls. āGo out there and make āem remember why youāre the best. And, uhā¦ā he squeezed her butt, earning a playful swat from her, ākick their asses for me, too. At least one of us should come home with gold.ā
She was still smiling when Rheaās music hit, the bass thundering through the arena. She kissed him once more, quick but full of intent, before pulling away.
āBe right back,ā she promised. āDonāt blink or youāll miss it.ā
He watched her walk toward the curtain, pride radiating off him even as that ache from last night lingered.
āGo get āem, champ,ā he called after her, his voice low but firm.
And she didnāt even have to look back to know heād be right there, front row, making good on his promise to be loud.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:*ᓵāįµ įµįµįµįµ įµį¶¦į¶ įµĖ” (ź ź³ źāæ)*:dļ¾ā§*
The arena was already buzzing from the last match, but the lights suddenly cut, plunging the crowd into darkness. A heartbeat thumped over the speakers, slow, steady, then built into a rapid pounding as golden spotlights swirled through the arena. A wall of smoke rolled across the stage, and a giant LED screen lit up with Y/N L/N in bold, metallic gold lettering.
Then her music hit. The first beat sent the entire crowd into a frenzy ā chants of āY/N! Y/N! Y/N!ā echoing from the rafters before she even stepped through the curtain.
She emerged slowly, bathed in golden light, draped in a dramatic floor-length jacket that shimmered with rhinestones and metallic threads. A championship-caliber entrance without even holding the belt. Her hair was perfect, makeup sharp, and her ring gear matched her larger-than-life presentation, sleek, black-and-gold with intricate designs that glittered under the lights.
Y/N paused at the top of the ramp, smirk tugging at her lips as she looked over the roaring crowd. She lifted her arms, fingers splayed wide, as pyros exploded from both sides of the stage, golden sparks raining down behind her. The smoke curled around her boots as she began her walk.
This wasnāt a walk. This was a strut.
Every step said I own this place.
Fans leaned over the barricade to reach for her, some holding handmade signs with her catchphrases, others just screaming her name like it was a prayer. She tossed her head slightly, smirking at the camera that panned low, catching her gear sparkle with each stride.
Halfway down the ramp, she stopped, turned to face the hard cam, and pointed directly at it with a devilish smile. The camera zoomed in just enough to catch her mouthing: Watch closely.
When she reached the ring, Y/N grabbed the middle rope, leaned back in a teasing stretch, and then slid under the bottom rope in one smooth motion ā straight into a kneel. She popped up fluidly, discarding her jacket, and locked eyes with Naomi and Rhea, who were already waiting.
Naomi leaned against the ropes with a cocky smirk, tilting her head as if to say, cute entrance, but it wonāt help you. Rhea cracked her neck, pacing like a predator waiting to pounce.
The three of them began to circle. The energy was tense, the crowd buzzing, each woman looking for the slightest opening.
DING DING DING.
Y/N and Naomi lunged first, locking up. Naomi tried to overpower, but Y/N transitioned instantly into a deep arm drag. Naomi popped back up ā only to be met with a spinning heel kick from Y/N that dropped her to a knee. Rhea came charging, looking for a clothesline, but Y/N ducked under, springboarding off the middle rope to hit her with a flying forearm.
The crowd roared.
Rhea rolled to her feet, smirking like she appreciated the fight. She swung wide with a lariat ā Y/N ducked again, grabbed Rhea by the arm, and launched herself into a tilt-a-whirl headscissors, sending the eradicator sprawling into the corner.
Naomi took advantage, yanking Y/N down by the hair. The boos from the crowd only made her grin wider. She stomped Y/N into the mat, then dragged her up for a snap suplex, following with a quick cover.
1! Kickout.
The match quickly turned chaotic. Rhea bulldozed both women with a double clothesline. She hoisted Y/N up for a delayed vertical suplex ā holding her there long enough to let the crowd count ā before slamming her hard to the mat. She went for Naomi next, driving her into the corner with shoulder thrusts.
Y/N came flying in from behind with a running knee strike to Rheaās back, sending her stumbling forward. Y/N grabbed Naomi and hit her with a flawless rolling German suplex, bridging into a pin.
1! 2!
Rhea broke it up with a boot to Y/Nās ribs.
From there, the momentum swung wildly ā Y/N countering Rheaās Riptide into a DDT, Naomi countering Y/Nās springboard crossbody with a mid-air dropkick, Rhea catching Naomi out of the air and throwing her like a ragdoll. The crowd ate up every reversal, every near-fall.
Then came the final sequence.
Rhea had Y/N in her sights, charging for a big boot ā and connected. Y/N went down hard, the crowd gasping. Rhea tried to drop into the cover.
However, Naomi slid in at lightning speed, using her momentum to push Rhea into a roll up pin. Normally, Rhea would kick out of that easily, but Naomi grabbed Rhea by the waistband of her gear and yanked it just low enough to force her to stop kicking out or risk giving the crowd a full moon. The crowd erupted in a mix of shocked laughter and boos as Naomi stacked her up.
1! 2! 3!
DING DING DING.
Naomi popped up, smirking like the devil as she clutched her title to her chest. The boos rained down, but she just held the belt high and mouthed āStill your champā into the hard cam.
Meanwhile, Y/N sat up slowly, huffing, one arm wrapped around her ribs. Across the mat, Rhea was glaring daggers at Naomi, but when her eyes shifted to Y/N, something unspoken passed between them.
Rhea had never pinned or submitted her. Not once. Tonight was supposed to change that. It hadnāt.
Y/N gave her a slow, knowing smirk, like sheād just silently reminded Rhea: You still canāt beat me.
Rheaās jaw clenched. The war between them wasnāt over. Not by a long shot.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:*ᓵāįµ įµįµįµįµ įµį¶¦į¶ įµĖ” (ź ź³ źāæ)*:dļ¾ā§*
The second she stepped through the curtain, the roar of the crowd still ringing in her ears, Y/N was met with a line of crew members, producers, and fellow wrestlers, all throwing her smiles, fist bumps, and quick congratulations.
āHell of a match out there,ā one of the camera operators said as he passed, still shaking his head like he couldnāt believe some of the spots she pulled off.
āYou looked like a damn superstar,ā one of the makeup artists chimed in.
Y/N offered a polite nod and a small smile to each person, slowing only when she reached Paul Levesque.
Paulās arms opened before she could even speak, pulling her into a solid, fatherly hug. āIām proud of you,ā he said in that gravelly tone, giving her shoulder a pat before pulling back. āYouāve got the TLC match to get your bearings before you head back out for the Becky and Lyra match. You good?ā
She nodded. āYeah, Iām good. Thanks, Paul.ā
He gave her a knowing look, like he was reading between her words, then let her go. She continued down the hallway, her ribs aching from that brutal whip into the turnbuckle earlier. All she could think about was getting some ice and a moment to breathe.
But when she rounded the corner toward the locker room, she froze. Phil was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching the hallway like a hawk. When his eyes landed on her, his expression shifted instantly, softening into that rare, unguarded smile he saved just for her.
He pushed off the wall and walked straight to her, pulling her into his arms before she could even say hello. His hand slid up the back of her neck, holding her close. āIām proud of you, kid,ā he murmured, his voice low but firm, the kind of tone that didnāt invite debate. āAnd⦠Iām sorry you didnāt get the title.ā
She shook her head, pressing a kiss to his cheek like it was nothing. āPhil, itās all storyline. Iām good with it. Honestly? Iād rather build the suspense.ā
He smirked faintly but his eyes softened. āYeah, well, suspense or not, you just put on the match of a lifetime. People are gonna be talking about this for years.ā
That pulled a genuine exhale of satisfaction from her. āHope so.ā
It was then that he noticed the deep purple marks already beginning to bloom along her ribs. His brow furrowed instantly. āJesus, babe, youāre already bruising. How hard did she hit you?ā
āPhilāā she chuckled, resting her hand on his arm, āāIām fine. A little banged up, sure, but thatās nothing new after a big match like that. You know that.ā
āI know it doesnāt mean I have to like it.ā He eyed her like he was considering wrapping her in bubble wrap before every match.
She laughed, cupping his jaw in her hand, her thumb brushing along the edge of his scruff. āTell you what⦠after this is all done and over with, weāll grab dinner, go back to the hotel, and just⦠relax.ā
His expression softened immediately, his shoulders loosening. āYeah⦠I like that idea.ā Then his eyes narrowed as she stepped toward the locker room door. āWaitā what are you doing?ā
Her smirk was borderline mischievous. āGot something to take care of.ā She opened the door halfway, glancing back over her shoulder. āYou might wanna hang out by a monitor.ā
His brow shot up, arms folding across his chest. āShould I be worried?ā
She just winked. āAlways.ā
He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. āYouāre trouble, you know that?ā
āAnd you love it,ā she shot back before slipping inside, leaving him in the hall with a grin tugging at his lips despite himself.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:*ᓵāįµ įµįµįµįµ įµį¶¦į¶ įµĖ” (ź ź³ źāæ)*:dļ¾ā§*
The arena air buzzed with electricity, the steady roar of the crowd mixing with the faint metallic scent of pyros long burned out. Under the shadow of her black hoodie, Y/N moved like a phantom through the narrow backstage corridor, every step fueled by a dangerous cocktail of focus and fury. She kept her head low, strands of hair peeking out just enough to disguise her features from passing crew members.
From somewhere up ahead, she caught Philās voice, loud, tense, and scanning the area like a man who had already been searching too long.
"Hey, have you seen Y/N?" he asked a stagehand, the irritation under his words barely restrained.
The guy shook his head. āNah, man. Not back here.ā
Phil swore under his breath, his footsteps moving off in the opposite direction.
Y/N didnāt slow. She couldnāt. The pounding of the crowd beyond the curtain was calling to her. But before she could hit the opening that led to the arena floor, another voice cut in, sharper, cockier, and laced with that infuriating arrogance she could recognize anywhere.
āā¦Iām telling you, it was worth it,ā Seth Rollins was saying, his tone smug and conversational as if he were discussing what brand of coffee he liked. He was leaned casually against a road case, talking to Bron and Bronson Reed, both of whom looked entertained. āFaking the injury? Oh yeah, absolutely no regrets. It was never about the title for me, boys, it was about making sure Punk didnāt get it. That was my mission.ā
Bron chuckled. āPretty ruthless, man.ā
Seth smirked wider, the glint in his eyes pure malice. āYeah, well⦠if keeping him down means keeping his little girlfriend out of the spotlight too?ā He gave a little shrug, feigning innocence. āThatās just a bonus. Why should she get her moment if it kills him to watch?ā
The words hit Y/N like a match to gasoline. Heat surged in her veins. Her fingers flexed at her sides, itching to grab the nearest object and smash it over his head. She didnāt. Not yet. Instead, she let that fire simmer, let it curl through her chest until her pulse matched the deafening thrum of the crowd outside. Thisā this was the fuel she needed.
By the time she stepped through the curtain, the noise doubled, wrapping around her like a tidal wave. The match outside was chaos. Becky Lynch and Lyra Valkyria brawling on the floor near the timekeeperās area, the referee distracted, the crowd rabid for every hit.
And then it happened. Becky grabbed a steel chair, raising it high above her head, about to crash it down on Lyraās ribs. Y/N didnāt think. She ran. Charging down through the audience, weaving between stunned fans, she vaulted over the barricade just as Beckyās arms began their swing. Her hands shot out, snatching the chair mid-air.
The crack of metal stopping echoed.
Beckyās head whipped around, fiery hair swinging, her brows furrowed in confusion. āWhat theā?!ā
She didnāt get to finish. Y/N yanked the chair from her grip and slammed the edge into Beckyās gut, sending her stumbling back into the barricade. The crowd exploded into a chorus of shock and cheers, camera flashes strobing across the chaos.
Corey Gravesā voice rang out from commentary. āWhat the hell is Y/N doing here?!ā
Becky shook her head, still processing, but Y/N was already on her. A swift forearm to the jaw snapped Beckyās head sideways, and then Y/N was unloading. Kicks, punches, a vicious elbow that sent Becky sprawling to the floor. She didnāt stop. She grabbed a kendo stick from under the ring, the hollow rattle of bamboo promising pain, and cracked it across Beckyās back once, twice, three times, each hit more brutal than the last.
The stick splintered in her hands.
The audience was on their feet now, the roar deafening.
Michael Coleās voice cut through, speculative and sharp. āI donāt know whatās going through Y/Nās head right now, but this⦠this could be revenge for Seth Rollins lying about his injury!ā
Y/N grabbed a steel chair again, unfolding it just enough to slam the seat into Beckyās spine. Lynch let out a guttural cry, collapsing to her knees. Y/N didnāt hesitate, she hooked Beckyās arm, spun her around, and drove her down onto the chair with a snap DDT that left Becky motionless.
With Becky down, Y/N turned to Lyra, who was still slumped near the barricade. She reached down, grabbed a fistful of Lyraās gear, and hauled her up with surprising ease. āCāmon, champ,ā Y/N muttered, almost taunting. She shoved Lyra under the ropes, then physically dragged her over to Beckyās prone body.
āCover her,ā Y/N ordered, voice low but picked up by the camera mics.
Lyra blinked in disbelief, but her instincts kicked in. She hooked Beckyās leg. The referee slid into position.
One. Two. Three.
The bell rang, the crowd going ballistic as Lyra was handed the championship. Becky rolled onto her side, groaning, her eyes glassy with disbelief.
Y/N stood outside the ring, chest rising and falling with adrenaline. A slow, almost unhinged laugh rolled from her throat. The camera zoomed in on her face just as Beckyās realization sank in⦠she had lost the title, and Y/N was the reason why.
Y/N started walking backward up the ramp, her gaze locked on the nearest camera. She leaned in, pulling her hood back just enough for her smirk to show. āOh,ā she said, her voice dripping venom, āwas some of my passive behavior misleading?ā
The crowd roared at the callback to Beckyās words from the night before.
Y/N took a few more steps up the ramp, then glanced back at the lens one last time. āTell your husband, Big Time Becksā¦ā she said, her smirk widening, āIām just getting started.ā
With that, she disappeared backstage, leaving destruction, confusion, and the echo of her laughter behind.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:*ᓵāįµ įµįµįµįµ įµį¶¦į¶ įµĖ” (ź ź³ źāæ)*:dļ¾ā§*
The second Y/N stepped through the curtain, the energy backstage was a live wire. Heads turned. People stopped mid-sentence. Agents, production crew, even the camera ops had that what the hell just happened? look on their faces. No one had been told. No one had seen it coming.
No one except Paul Levesque.
He was standing off to the side, headset half off, that small smirk tugging at his mouth when her eyes found him. They didnāt say a word, didnāt have to. Just one sharp nod from him, one from her, and the silent acknowledgment hung between them: Yeah⦠we pulled that off.
She kept walking, chin high, the chaos swirling around her like a storm sheād just set in motion.
She was three steps from clearing gorilla when it hit ā the stomping, rapid sound of someone coming fast.
āHEY!ā
Seth Rollins, with Bron Breakker and Bronson Reed flanking him like muscle, stormed toward her. Sethās eyes were wide, jaw tight, the kind of furious where you canāt even blink without it shaking through you.
āYou outta your damn mind?ā he barked, voice already loud enough to pull attention from everyone nearby. āWho the hell do you think you are, getting involved in my wifeās match?!ā
Y/N stopped mid-step, slowly turning toward him. Her smile was thin, razor-edged. āI think Iām the woman whoās man you screwed over when you decided to lie your ass off just to keep him from holding his title.ā
āOhhh, here we go,ā Seth laughed, except it wasnāt amused, it was sharp, mocking. āYou really wanna play the victim here? Your boy got outplayed. Simple. You donāt get to come sticking your nose in MY business because you canāt handle it.ā
āThis became my business,ā Y/N shot back, taking a step toward him, āthe second you made it personal. You couldnāt screw him out of a championship clean, no, you had to try and drag me down with him.ā
Seth tilted his head, grin curling like he was daring her. āOh, Iāll drag you down any day of the week, sweetheart. You wanna play in the big leagues, you better be ready to get knocked on your ass.ā
Her voice dropped lower, dangerous. āSay āsweetheartā again. See how quick I put you on your ass right here.ā
The air between them went tight.
Bron and Bronson shifted, ready to step in if this went sideways, which, by the way Y/N moved in closer, nose almost brushing Sethās, it was about two seconds from happening.
āYou think youāre some kind of hero for this?ā Seth sneered. āNewsflash ā you just painted a target on your back so big, I could hit it from the parking lot.ā
Y/N didnāt flinch. āGood. Makes it easier when I swing back.ā
The tension spiked. Sethās smirk faded into that slow burn glare, and his shoulders squared up. Y/N mirrored it, neither willing to break eye contact.
Thatās when Phil appeared.
It was like he came out of nowhere. One moment Seth was in her face, the next, a hard shove sent Seth staggering back a step.
āYou wanna fight somebody, Rollins?ā Punkās voice cut through the shouting. āTry me. Iām not hard to find.ā
Now everyone was yelling. Agents moving in, Bron barking for people to calm down, Paul stepping forward to keep things from boiling over. Seth was still jawing, trying to get around the people holding him back, while Y/N stood there breathing hard, eyes locked on him like sheād finish this right now if they let her.
Finally, someone managed to herd her and Punk out of gorilla.
They stormed down the hallway in matching, wordless anger. Her hands were still clenched. His jaw was still tight. By the time they hit an empty stretch of hall, Punk stopped, dragging a hand down his face before running it through his hair.
āYou are gonna give me an ulcer,ā he said finally, voice still sharp but laced with something almost ā almost ā like laughter. āI canāt get any more gray hairs, Y/N. Iām maxed out.ā
She smirked. āYou love it.ā
āNo,ā he corrected, stepping closer and pulling her into his chest. āI love you. You stressing me the hell out? Not so much.ā
She shrugged against him like this was nothing. āI couldnāt just sit there and watch him brag about screwing you over. Not happening.ā
āI meanā Y/N what the hell were you thinking?ā He pulled back enough to look at her. āHow the hell did you evenā¦? Paul doesnāt just hand people a green light for something like that.ā
Her grin was pure mischief. āI cashed in my favor.ā
He blinked. āWhat favor?ā
āThe one from Rumble. And Chamber.ā
Punkās face went slack. āNo. You didnāt.ā
āYeah,ā she said lightly, like sheād just told him she bought milk on the way home. āGuess Iām fresh out now.ā
His hands dropped from her shoulders in disbelief. āY/N, thatās⦠you couldāve used that tonight for the title. For literally anything. Why would you burn it onāā
āYou,ā she cut in simply. āBecause I donāt care about a title. I care about you. And it was worth it to wipe that smug look off Sethās face.ā
He opened his mouth to argue ā but she kissed him before he could. When she pulled back, she was smiling. āThey wanted to screw with you, so I screwed with them. Simple math.ā
That fire in her eyes hit him like a freight train. It made his chest tight, and, if he was honest, his pulse a little faster for entirely different reasons. āYouāre insane,ā he said finally, smirking despite himself.
āYouāre welcome.ā
He laughed under his breath, shaking his head as he leaned in and kissed her, slow, lingering, because yeah⦠she was insane, but she was his.
āCome on,ā he said finally, voice low. āLetās get the hell outta here before I start a fight I canāt finish.ā
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:*ᓵāįµ įµįµįµįµ įµį¶¦į¶ įµĖ” (ź ź³ źāæ)*:dļ¾ā§*
They barely made it halfway down the hallway before Philās fingers found hers again ā not the casual, fleeting brush they sometimes shared, but a deliberate grip, threaded tight like he was afraid she might vanish if he let go. His hand was warm, solid, the kind of hold that tethered her to him no matter how many people they passed. The corridor stretched on, but the air between them was heavier than the carpet under their boots. He didnāt even try to disguise it ā the way his gaze stayed locked on her profile like a predator who had already decided the kill was his.
They passed a couple of people in the hallway to their room. One offered Phil a quiet nod. He didnāt return it. He wasnāt looking at anything but her.
By the time they reached the room, that look had only deepened. The second the door shut behind them, the quiet was deafening. Y/N turned, half ready to speak, but froze. That stare rooted her to the spot.
It wasnāt anger. It wasnāt the kind of heat you saw in the ring. It was quieter. More dangerous. His hoodie was still unzipped, hair a little mussed, eyes darker than theyād been under the arena lights. āYou know,ā he murmured, stepping forward at a pace that forced her to back up a fraction, āI still donāt get you.ā
Her brow arched. āDonāt get me?ā
āYeah,ā he said, head tilting slightly, gaze dragging over the curve of her mouth like he was memorizing it. āHow someone like you could love someone like me this much. After⦠everything. The messes, the screw-ups, the nights Iām more of an asshole than I am a boyfriend.ā
Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. āYou think Iām just here for the highlight reel?ā
āI think youāre here because youāre out of your damn mind,ā he shot back ā but there was no bite, just a strange mix of disbelief and raw awe that she could feel in her chest.
She stepped closer, fingers catching the lapels of his hoodie and tugging gently. āIām here because youāre mine. Good nights, bad nights⦠win or lose, youāre it for me, Phil.ā
Something in him flickered, like sheād just touched a locked part of him no one else had ever gotten near. His hands slid onto her waist, fingers curling over her hips as though anchoring himself.
āCareful,ā he warned, voice low, almost gravel. āTalk like that, Iām gonna forget why I was pissed off.ā
āMaybe I want you to forget,ā she teased, leaning in until her lips brushed his but didnāt close the gap. āMaybe I like you better when youāre only thinking about me.ā
A breath of a chuckle escaped him, dark, quiet, before he closed that space, catching her mouth in a kiss that was slow but bruising, the kind that left no question about who she belonged to.
When he pulled back, he stayed close enough for his breath to mingle with hers.
āYou know,ā he murmured, thumb tracing her jawline, āweāve been at this for years. No titles. No rules. Just us. But every time Iām with you⦠it feels like we already own the place.ā
She smiled against his lips. āWeāre not stopping until we actually do.ā
His eyes burned hotter. āAnd when we do, every single personās gonna know you made me a king.ā
āAnd you made me your queen,ā she said without hesitation.
That snapped the last bit of restraint in him. His grip on her hips tightened, pulling her flush against him. āYou have no idea,ā he murmured against her ear, his voice dropping into that gravelly tone that made her skin prickle, āhow many times Iāve thought about you like this. No cameras. No crowd. Just you telling me Iām the only one who gets to put their hands on you.ā
Her smirk was a slow burn. āWhy tell you⦠when I can show you?ā
His jaw tightened. She could feel it under her lips as she kissed along his jawline, lingering just under his ear. He swore softly, catching her mouth again, the kiss rougher this time, the kind that stole every ounce of air from her lungs.
āYou love me like Iāve never been loved before,ā he muttered against her lips, his hand sliding under the hem of her shirt to splay against warm skin.
āGood,ā she whispered, eyes locked on his. āBecause no one else is getting the chance.ā
That was the breaking point. His hands roamed higher, slow but certain, his mouth finding the line of her throat while she leaned back just enough to let him. The world outside their room didnāt exist anymore. Every touch, every breath, was him claiming her all over again, and her letting him.
Phil pressed her back until she felt the wall behind her, his mouth slanting harder over hers, his tongue teasing at the seam of her lips until she opened for him. She tasted faintly of the powdered pastry she snaked from catering earlier, but underneath was just her. The taste he knew better than his own damn name.
When his hands slid down, gripping her hips and pulling her flush against him, she gasped against his mouth. He didnāt let her pull away; he chased that sound like it was the only thing keeping him breathing.
āYou drive me insane,ā he murmured against her lips, each word brushing hot over her skin. āAnd I swear you fucking love it.ā
āI do,ā she whispered back, her smirk barely there before he kissed it away.
His hands roamed ā over her waist, up her spine, back down to the curve of her thighs. He lifted her without breaking the kiss, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The wall supported her, but it was him that held her there, solid and unshakable.
They were both breathing harder now, heat curling in the space between them. His mouth trailed from her lips to the line of her jaw, then lower, nipping lightly at the sensitive spot beneath her ear. She bit back a moan, but he caught it anyway, smiling against her skin.
āYeah,ā he murmured, his voice rough. āThatās mine.ā
Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl. āYouāre awfully sure of yourself.ā
āDamn right,ā he said, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. āYouāve been mine since the day you walked into my life. And nothing ā nothing ā is ever gonna change that.ā
The way he said it made her chest ache in that dangerous, beautiful way. And when he kissed her again, slower this time, there was no mistaking it, he wasnāt just claiming her body, he was laying his whole heart out in the open.
Y/N laces her hands through his hair, the unmistakable feeling of his erection grinding directly against her core. She gently massages the back of his head, a small moan escaping his lips. She swallows it with a need one could only consider primal.
She reluctantly pulls her lips from his, Phil opening his mouth to protest but is cut off as she maneuvers her way across his jaw and down his neck. Each kiss she leaves sends a round of chills down his spine. His chest rises and falls rapidly as his girlfriend skillfully traces shapes with her tongue along his perfectly salty skin. He gasps when she bites the connecting point between his neck and collarbone before marking him as hers.
āMakeups gonna have fun with that tomorrow,ā he murmurs, not able to stop the way his hips continue grinding into her.
She hums before looking up at him and sucking another mark on the opposite side in the exact same spot. āGood⦠let it serve as a reminder.ā
Without much warning, she unwraps her legs from his waist. Phil canāt bring himself to do anything besides watch his girl as she drops down to her knees in front of him, never breaking eye contact. Her fingers trail up to the waistband of his pants before dipping below, just barely, but itās enough to make his dick twitch behind the fabric. She licks her lips, tugging at the clothing.
āI know this weekend was hard for you,ā she says, barely above a whisper. āBut if you let me⦠I wanna take care of you. Make you forget all about the sting of what happened. Show you that youāre the real champion. And that everyone else is just existing on borrowed time.ā
Seeing the way sheās so willing to do whatever it takes to stroke his ego, makes his cock grow even harder. Y/N licks her lips at the wet spot forming at the crotch of his pants. She doesnāt wait for permission, the needy look in his eyes communicates it enough for her. She hooks her fingers through the waistband of both his pants and his underwear, sliding them down his legs with ease. Punk helps her out, stepping out of the leg holes before discarding them to some random corner of the room.
He tilts his head with a smug smirk as he watches his girlfriend salivate over his dick. The tip oozing with precum, bright red and ready for whatever she wants to do with it. Her lashes flutter as she looks up at him, leaning forward ever so slightly. Her tongue pokes out of her barely parted lips as she kitten licks his aching tip.
āFuckā¦ā he exhales shakily, the minimal contact still feeling like everything he could ever want.
Y/N smirks before trailing her tongue from the base to his tip, taking her sweet time, relishing in the way his toned stomach clenches from the sensation. He tilts his head, hand lacing through her hair as she leans forward and takes the whole length of him in her mouth. He tries not to yank her hair from the sudden wave of pleasure, but Y/N pulls back off of him briefly.
āDonāt be gentle,ā she commands. āI can take it.ā
Phil raises an eyebrow, āSweetheart, I donāt think thatās a good idea.ā
āI can take it,ā she reiterates. āUse me. I know youāre still angry.ā She grips the base of his cock with her hands, pumping slowly as she leans forward to suck on the part of his dick not covered by her hands. She bobs up and down, speaking when she can. āTake it out on me.ā
Phil stares at the beautiful woman below him, moaning softly as she takes his entire length, drool pooling at the corner of her lips. Her bright eyes are begging him, pleading with him to lose control. His grip on her hair tightens, āIf I do this⦠thereās no turning back,ā he warns, voice dropping an octave. āNo begging me to stopāā
āFine,ā Y/N nods, pulling off of him with an obscenely pornographic pop. āDeal. No begging. I can do it.ā She nods, never more determined to do anything. āJust wanna make you feel good.ā
She surges forward once again, his tip hitting the back of her throat. Philās eyes roll into the back of his head as she manages to take him deeper, forcing herself to gag on his length. āJesus,ā he praises. Thereās nothing hotter to him than his woman forcing herself to gag on his cock. Not because sheās forced to, but because she wants to.
He wastes no time after that. He fully grips her hair in his hand, holding her head in place as he pounds into her mouth at a relentless pace. She uses her tongue, working it around him like a professional. Like she was made to suck his dick. All of the anger he felt, the frustration thatās been building up is all coming to a head, and sheās taking it like a champ.
He feels himself twitch in her mouth as he sees a small bulge at the bottom of her throat. Her eyes are watering, mascara leaking down her cheeks, but sheās never looked so damn satisfied. She likes this. Her nails are digging into his thigh as she silently begs for more.
He pulls her head backwards, āGet up,ā he commands.
The gravelly tone of his voice shoots a jolt of arousal straight to her core. She stares at him, never breaking eye contact as she maneuvers to her feet. Thatās one thing sheās always killed him with, the way she can always keep her focus solely on him. He smashes his lips to hers, bruising and a lot less controlled. She wants him to let go, to use her, thatās what sheās going to get.
Y/N moans into his mouth, his tongue sliding past her lips and intertwining with hers. He can taste his own residue on her mouth and it makes him all the more impatient. He swats her ass, telling her to jump. She does as sheās told, only removing her lips from his so he could see where he was going. She continues kissing down his neck, leaving another mark or two in her wake. There was no getting around this tomorrow night for Raw. Everyone is going to know. And truthfully, he doesnāt care.
He tosses her on the bed, Y/N wasting no time as she scoots her way up to the pillows, her smile the most tantalizing thing heās ever seen. He hadnāt even realized sheād been fully clothed the entire time. He can still see the way her gear pokes out from underneath her sweatpants and tank top. The image of the gold and black fabric clinging to her skin making him more turned on than before.
āStrip. And do it slowly.ā
Y/N just grins all innocently as she reaches for her top first. The way she looks at him, all cute and soft, acting as if she isnāt the filthiest woman heās ever met. She does as he asks, slowly pulling the top of her head to reveal that same gear piece heād been thinking about all night. She loops her hands behind her, untying the back which allows the entire thing to fall off her body. His attention is suddenly only focused on the perked nipples staring directly at him. His tongue darts across his lips, and before she can even start at her sweatpants and bottoms, heās lunging forward.
Y/N moans, hands shooting up to his hair as Phil sucks her right nipple into his mouth. The sensitive peak causes another wave of arousal to crash over her. She knows sheās soaked through her gear and most likely her pants. Thereās no way the cloth has been able to hide how hot and bothered she gets by this man.
Her head flies back as he sucks a mark into her breast before moving over to the next and repeating the same process. She enjoys the way his teeth graze the flesh. She gently massages his head like she always does, hands running through his hair. It only spurs him on more as he starts grinding his still thick erection against her thigh.
āYouāre fucking crazy, you know that?ā He mumbles against her skin, kissing down her stomach until he reaches her sweats. He slides them off, leaving her just in her gear bottoms. āGoing out there and getting involved in Lynchās match. All for me.ā
Y/N nods, āAll for you,ā she agrees. āWanted everyone to know I did it for you.ā
Punk laughs, dark and almost evil. He moves a hand up, cupping her pussy with his hand. He can feel the heat radiating off her, the way sheās dripping and begging to be fucked. āYouāve always been a cock slut, havenāt you? I knew you were wet before, but after you get my cock in your mouth, you turn into a fucking drinking fountain.ā
Y/N moans at the words. Some nights she adores it when they make love, but other days, she really does need it rough. And quite frankly, so does he. He slowly pulls her bottoms off, loving the way her pussy clenched around nothing when itās exposed to the air. Once he gets them fully off, he lifts the fabric up to his face, shoving his nose into the wet spot where she had been dripping for God knows how long.
āSo fucking sweet,ā he mumbles. He glances at her, watching as she tries her hardest not to move without his permission. Sheās always been such a good girl. He grins, looking directly into her eyes as he sticks his tongue out, licking the remnants of her juices off the bottoms.
Y/N moans at the sight, growing more and more needy. He doesnāt make it any better when he groans lowly, closing his eyes as he relishes in her taste. She doesnāt have to say anything though as heās suddenly crouching down, grabbing her thighs forcefully. āThat was good, but I think I want it directly from the source.ā
Without warning, he shoves her legs further apart, diving face first into her aching heat. Y/N arches her back without prompting, careful not to close her legs. Sheās learned the hard way not to move unless he tells her to. His tongue probes in and out of her perfectly, he knows her body better than she does. She whines as his finger finds that rosy bud that makes her see stars. āThatās right whore,ā he chuckles against her core. āLet me hear how good I make you feel.ā
He was relentless with his ministrations. Y/N couldnāt keep quiet even if she wanted to. She knows their neighbors can hear exactly what theyāre doing, but the thought of people hearing how good Punk is with his mouth turns her on even more. āShit,ā she says in a breathy whisper. āFeels so fucking good.ā
Her pleasure only intensifies as he buries a finger inside her pulsing core. His tongue moves up to her clit as he starts pounding into her with his finger. He wastes no time before shoving a second and then third finger inside of her. He lifts his head, beard drenched in her juices. Seeing her this fucked out just from his tongue and fingers is enough to make him cum on its own. āYouāre such a good girl. Goinā out there and getting even for me,ā he praises her. āAnd now youāre letting me use you how I please. How did I get so lucky?ā
Y/Nās always been a sucker for his praise. Phil simply groans into her core when he feels more of her arousal gush around his fingers. He knows her inside and out. Sheās never been able to resist how he talks to her. She always said her favorite thing about him is his mouth.
āIām the lucky one,ā she finally manages to gasp out as he starts pistoning his fingers in and out of her. āSo lucky.ā The next sound that comes out of her is a mix between a scream and a moan. āFuck! I love you.ā
Phil licks one more stripe up her pussy, pulling his fingers out as he crawls up to her. He smashes his lips to hers, Y/N moaning as her own arousal spills into the mouth. She loves the burn his beard leaves on her face. āI love you too,ā he mumbles against her lips.
Y/N loses all sense of the world around her as he slides his dick inside of her. Phil curses lowly, enjoying the way she encases him perfectly. āYouāre so tight fāme,ā he whispers against her jaw. āFitting me like a fucking glove, princess.ā
She can feel every part of him splitting her open. Heās buried to the hilt inside of her and she knows what sheās in for. She feels him slowly pull out, both of them watching his dick slide out of her, coated in her slick. Both of them are entranced by the sight until suddenly heās shoving himself back inside with no remorse.
Y/N gasps but itās cut off by Philās hand curling around her throat. Itās not enough to hurt her, but itās enough to make her feel lightheaded, amplifying the pleasure sheās getting from the man above her. āStupid fucking Rollins,ā he growls. āThinkinā he can take my championship.ā He leans down, sucking a ready nipple into his mouth, biting down slightly. āHe has no idea whatās coming to him, does he? Has no idea how crazy my girl is. How far sheās willing to go to get me what I want.ā
Y/N tries to nod her head, eyes hazy. Phil just smirks at the blissed out look on her face as he plows into her. His pelvis practically meets hers with how deep heās going. She knows sheās going to bruise, and part of her wants them to be the deepest and most colored bruises sheās ever had. She wants people to see how he owns her.
āIāll do whatever you want,ā Y/N mewls, voice raspy from the way heās still constricting her airways. āIāll burn it all down for you.ā
Punk chuckles, leaning down to kiss her once more. āThatās my girlā¦ā
He pummels her pussy, finally removing his hand from her throat so he can place it on her lower stomach, amplifying the pressure his cock is providing her. Y/Nās mouth falls open in a silent scream. Her hands shoot up towards his back, her nails raking perfect lines down his skin. Punk groans, loving the way it feels.
āGod, Iām obsessed with you,ā he grumbles, each thrust hitting her cervix harder. He nuzzles his nose into her neck, breathing in the aroma thatās so specifically her. He kisses the sensitive spot behind her ear, a rush of chills forming on her skin. āYou donāt even realize what you do to me. What runs through my mind when I see you walking backstage in the skimpy shit you call gear.ā Y/N cries out as he hits that spongy spot inside of her over and over again without stopping. āMy perfect slut.ā
Y/N rolls her hips back into him, moaning into the now humid air. She pulls him closer to her, his chest now pressing against hers as he continues thrusting into her. āYou like that?ā He asks mockingly. āYou like knowing how fucking crazy you drive me?ā He sucks another mark on her neck this time, the fingerprints from how he was choking her still present. āAnd that sometimes I just canāt help myself. Iāll go back and watch some of your old matches just to jerk off at how fucking sexy you look.ā
And just like that, the coil inside her snapped. Her entire body shudders, pussy clamping around his cock as if it was trying to suck all the life out of it. However, he didnāt lighten up. She said he could use her how he pleased, and he planned on it.
Punk curses, pounding into her faster now. The overstimulation makes tears brim at the corner of her eyes, but she knows better than to beg him to stop. She wanted this and he needs it. He reaches up, groping her breast roughly as his thrusts become sloppy.
āIām gonna cum inside this pussy,ā he pants, sweat forming at his brow. Y/N arches her back, nodding frantically. āThatās what you want, huh? Want my seed so fucking deep that everyone will know who you come to bat for?ā
Y/N gasps, silently affirming everything heās saying. She can feel her second orgasm building as he pounds into her a few more times. It only takes one more look at her completely undone form for him to explode inside of her. He yells out a string of curses before leaning down to kiss her bruisingly, hips stuttering. He barely pulls away, glancing down at where their bodies are joined, his cock covered in cum, glistening in the light like the most holy thing heās ever seen. She winces slightly as he starts pulling out, but part of him canāt resist. He slowly brings his hand up, fingering her clit thatās still pulsing between her folds.
Y/N flinches, another wanton moan escaping her lips. Her pussy lips are puffy and perfectly coated in the cum thatās slowly dripping out of her. He doesnāt let much escape though before shoving his finger back inside of her, not letting a single ounce of his spunk go to waste.
Y/N pretty much falls limp, her body sinking further into the mattress beneath her. Her chest rises and falls with every bated breath. Sheās been in a lot of taxing matches before, but none of them have taken her out more than this.
The roomās still thick with heat, the sheets a mess of tangled fabric and flushed skin. Punkās breath fans against her neck as he slowly pushes himself up, bracing his forearm against the mattress while the other stays lazily draped over her stomach.
"Jesus," he murmurs, still catching his breath, his voice rough but threaded with amusement. "Youāre gonna be the death of me, yāknow that?"
Y/N smirks, eyes still half-lidded. "Youāve been saying that for years. Still kicking though."
Punk chuckles low in his chest, brushing damp hair from her forehead before pressing a kiss there. "Barely."
He sits back, taking a long look at her like heās trying to burn the image into his brain. She doesnāt flinch from it, sheās long past shying away from the way he watches her.
"Yāknow⦠you might think youāre slick, getting off on my ring gear," she teases softly, fingers dragging down his arm. "But I always knew. I just liked it too much to call you out."
That earns her a lopsided grin. "Shouldāve known youād turn my creepy into romantic."
"You make it too easy." She leans up, brushing her lips across his jaw before pulling back. "Now help me up before I actually melt into the mattress."
He rolls his eyes but slips an arm under her legs and one behind her back, lifting her with an ease that makes her roll hers right back. "Show-off."
"Shut up and let me take care of you."
In the bathroom, steam curls up from the tub heās already started filling. He lowers her in slowly, like heās afraid she might bruise if he moves too fast. The water laps against her skin, and before she can tease him again, he steps in behind her, settling so her back rests against his chest.
"Comfy?" he murmurs against her ear.
"Mhm. Could get used to this."
"You should," he says, like itās a promise.
For a while, they just sit in the quiet, the only sounds the water shifting when he drags his hands lazily along her arms. "So," he starts, breaking the stillness, "about the whole Becky thing. Interviews, fan questions⦠whatās the game plan?"
She tilts her head back enough to meet his eyes. "Easy. I tell them I did it because it was fun, and because messing with people is one of my hobbies."
Punk snorts. "Cute. But you know theyāre gonna try to spin it into some big dramatic storyline about me not being able to fight my own battles."
"Let āem," she says, without missing a beat. "You donāt need to prove anything to them. And for the record? Iād do it all over again. Ten times. Just to watch their faces when I walked out there."
Something shifts in his expression then, softer, almost reverent. He kisses her temple, lingering a little longer than necessary.
"I love you⦠more than anything," he murmurs.
Y/N smiles, her cheeks flushing from how soft he sounds saying it. āI love you too.ā Her fingers find his under the water, tangling together. "I hope you know youāre stuck with me forever, Punker. No matter what.ā
He doesnāt say it, but the thought hits him like a freight train. Yeah⦠Forever sounds about right.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:*ᓵāįµ įµįµįµįµ įµį¶¦į¶ įµĖ” (ź ź³ źāæ)*:dļ¾ā§*
The crowd was still a roar in her bones when she stepped through the curtain. Signs with her name and Punkās blurred together in a neon sea, some praising her, others cursing her, but all of them loud. Y/N didnāt rush. She let the reaction breathe, soaking in the split of cheers and boos like they were oxygen.
Her and Paul agreed for her to cut a promo about why she did what she did. It was a perfect way to set up a feud and explain storyline wise why she did what she did. While it was more personal than it was for work, they had to find a good way to intertwine the two.
She slid under the bottom rope, straightened to her full height, and leaned against the ropes with the mic in hand. The noise swelled again.
"Yāknowā¦" She took a deep breath, letting her gaze drift over the arena. "Iāve never liked liars. Not in my personal life, not in this ring, not anywhere. And lucky me, I work in a place where the biggest liar of them all holds the World Heavyweight Championship."
A fresh wave of boos rained down at the not-so-subtle shot.
"Seth Rollins," she said, pacing the ring now. "A man who spent months⦠no, years⦠talking about hard work, about earning your spot, about fighting with honor. A man who loves to preach about being the standard in WWE."
She stopped dead center, smirking without humor. "And yet, the second CM Punk claws his way back to the top after ten damn years⦠the second he earns his shot fair and square⦠Rollins throws every word heās ever said into the trash because heās too bitter, too jealous, to let someone else shine."
The crowd roared again ā some agreeing, some trying to drown her out. "Punk deserved that title more than anyone in this company," she continued, her voice sharpening. "And Seth couldnāt take it. Couldnāt handle that maybe, just maybe, someone was better than him. So he cheated. He played dirty. He took something he didnāt deserve."
She paused, adjusting her grip on the mic. "And when someone like Seth wants to fight dirty? Well⦠I can do that too. I didnāt get revenge. I got even. And you can cry about it on Twitter, you can chant about it in this arena, but the fact isā"
Cult of Personality hit like a thunderclap. The crowd exploded.
Her head snapped toward the stage, expecting Becky, maybe Seth ā definitely not him. Punk stepped out in his classic tee and jeans, hair damp, smirk carved across his face like heād just won the lottery.
"What the hellā¦" she muttered under her breath as he started down the ramp, slapping a few outstretched hands along the way.
When he slid into the ring, she leaned toward him, mic lowered. "What are you doing out here?"
He just grinned wider, like he was in on a joke she hadnāt heard yet. Punk took the other mic from the timekeeper and turned to face the crowd. "I wasnāt gonna come out here. Figured this was your moment to talk your talk. But, uhā¦" He glanced at her, eyes glinting. "Turns out Iāve got a couple things to get off my chest."
The arena quieted just enough for him to start pacing. "First of all⦠yeah, I lost. Seth Rollins beat me. You can call it skill, you can call it strategy, you can call it whatever helps you sleep at night. But hereās the thing ā I donāt stay down. Iām not done. Iām getting that title back, and when I do, thereās not a damn thing Seth can do about it."
The crowd popped. He pointed toward Y/N. "And Iāve got her to thank for reminding me what kind of fight Iām capable of. āCause she didnāt just watch from the sidelines. She didnāt let someone she loves get screwed over and shrug it off. She went out there and made sure they knew there are consequences for screwing with us."
Y/N smirked a little at that, but before she could respond, Punkās voice shifted. Lower. More deliberate. "But thereās something else," he said, stepping closer until they were just a foot apart. "Something Iāve been thinking about for a long time. Because the truth is⦠Iāve had a lot of fights in my life. In this ring. Outside of it. But the best fight Iāve ever been in was keeping you."
Her chest tightened. This was not where she thought this was going.
"Iām not an easy guy to love," Punk went on, eyes locked on hers. "Hell, Iāve spent most of my life convinced I didnāt even deserve it. But you⦠for some reason Iāll never understand, youāve been here. Through every high, every low, every self-inflicted mess Iāve made. And not only did you stay⦠you made me better."
The arena was pin-drop silent now, thousands of people watching a private moment unfold under the brightest lights. "You make me want to be the guy you already think I am," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. "And you make me feel like maybe⦠just maybe⦠Iāve got more to fight for than titles or glory or proving people wrong. Maybe the whole point was just⦠finding you."
Her eyes burned, and she shook her head slightly, trying to blink it away. And then Punk reached into his pocket, and the crowd lost it.
Y/Nās hand flew to her mouth as he dropped to one knee, mic still in hand, holding out a ring box. "I couldāve done this last night, or in a hotel room, or somewhere quiet where it was just us," he said over the deafening noise. "But I want this on record. I want this on tape so we can play it back when weāre old and cranky and yelling at kids to get off our lawn. I want every single person here to see what you mean to me."
He flipped open the box. "Y/N⦠will you marry me?"
The pop from the crowd was deafening. She was laughing through the tears now, shaking her head like she couldnāt believe it. But she was nodding before she even realized it. "Yeah," she breathed. "Of course I will."
Punk stood, sliding the ring onto her finger, and they kissed dead center in the ring while the place absolutely erupted.
When they finally broke apart, she grinned at him through glassy eyes. "You are such a sap."
"Yeah, but Iām your sap," he shot back without missing a beat. "And now everybody knows it."
cmpunk
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tagged: y/nwrestles
cmpunk: She said yes š
View all 10,125 comments
y/nwrestles: about damn time, old man. 08.04.25 ā¤ļø
619iamlucha: Congrats, you two! Couldnāt be happier for you both š
charlottewwe: Finally!!! Love this so much. Youāre perfect for each other š
uceyjucey: Happy for you, Uce. Lock it down. š
biancabelairwwe: This is the CUTEST š so happy for yāall!!
tripleh: Congratulations! Now letās get this wedding booked before your next match. š
mikethemiz: Congrats! Canāt wait for the bachelor party. š»
roxanne_wwe: my parents are finally getting married ššš
rhearipley_wwe: This is actually adorable. Congrats.
wrestlingfangirl93: this is literally my roman empire ššš
cmpunkspromos: NO WAY?? THE POWER COUPLE IS ENGAGED šš„
wrestleobsessed: Iām crying in the club rn.
straightedgearmy: Congrats to my fav wrestler and the only person cooler than him š
lariatlover88: the way he looks at her >>>
heartbroken_hogan: Damn, was really hoping Iād be the one marrying Y/N. Guess Iām screwed šš
cmpunk: Damnnnnn, nice try though. Sheās. mine, but keep practicing.
wrestlingwithmyfeelings: CM PUNK⦠SOFT?? never thought Iād see the day
steelcagequeen: Iād let y/n suplex me any day but sheās taken now š congrats tho
crowdpopmaster: this better be the wedding of the decade
CHARLOTTE FLAIR & ALEXA BLISS WWE SummerSlam, August 2nd, 2025
Love when he does this shit
Behind the scenes @ SummerSlam 2025





