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Adam Cole - Blog Posts
So...does AEW *want* a riot? Like, was this planned, or did they just wake up like,
Hi I’m Pumpkin
My main love is wrestling I’ve been addicted to it for 10 years now. All of my friends will tell you my favourite wrestler changes weekly. But it’s always one of my top 10 favourite wrestlers. Currently it’s the Archer of Infamy Damian Priest but here’s the list of who it changes between.
1. Chris Brookes
2. Kenny Omega
3. Damian Priest
4. Adam Page
5. Rhea Ripley
6. Adam Cole
7. Aleister Black
8. Darby Allin
9. Mark Haskins
10. Rosemary
35 bay bay!!
happy birthday devil fucker
(commission me for £3 for a quick piece like this!! dm me for details and link to my kofi, quick and easy all over the world)
Finally, he had time to himself. Time to process. But it was weird. He couldn't think about it. He tried- Max's yelling, his betrayed face, his tears. It all felt weirdly out-of-body. He would have to watch the video later. His mind was so blank.
He took it as a blessing.
Within the time that he stared outside the window, Adam's mind drifted to the pleasurable thought that he was a complete genius. Max hadn't suspected him- not even for a moment. Those late nights where he held Max in his arms, scratched his back and stroked his hair and listened to him talk about the Devil until he fell asleep. He'd been underestimated, flown under the radar under the guise of love.
Max hadn't seen the smirk on Adam's face as he raked his nails through his short hair, had no idea he was lying on the chest of his greatest enemy in that moment.
hurt myself writing this so yall gotta see it too :(
Max recalled the events somehow just a little over two hours ago, of finally winning back his title from Wardlow, who had turned on the Undisputed Kingdom when Adam's ankle had finally healed enough for him to return and he had confidently asked for 'his' title. Max scoffed to himself at the thought, wondering how Adam could have been stupid enough to truly believe that Wardlow would actually just hand over the glorious Triple B like it was a football. It was dumb, uncharacteristically dumb for him, as Max had learned. And he had indeed learned it the hard way.
The betrayal at World's End was only a few months ago and yet the wounds were, as much as it pained him to admit it, still raw. Max hadn't trusted anyone since then, no. He had come back from his injury, his shoulder healing seemingly fuelled by the pure sting of betrayal, and he reclaimed his name. Slowly, slowly, but surely. His hair was shorter again, the sides buzzed; he was a man of dress shirts once more, having taken fabric scissors to those Better Than You Bay Bay and Double Clothesline t-shirts a long time ago. He donned his trusty scarf, having burned his favourite clone because no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get Adam's scent off it. He was, once again, in all purposes but physically, the Devil. Who needs a mask to show it? In all truth he was technically a babyface, but would he still hold those intrinsic values Adam had edged into him? Hell no. In this company you couldn't trust anyone, and Max hated himself every day for many months for not maintaining that strong view despite Adam. Adam's manipulation, his fucking game. No. Max worked best on his own. He was a true champ, and no one would ever take that away from him again.
a little snippet of a fic im working on because worlds end stuck a knife in my heart that i haven’t been able to pull out yet.
TheVoidVoyager on ao3
oh boy.
nsfw//
“Suck me off.”
And Max just looks so pathetic. He uses his wrist to try to wipe his eyes red, blotchy, teary, and fixes them on my dick, blinking wet eyelashes. I hear him sniffle.
“What’s wrong, Maxie? You don’t wanna suck me off anymore? You used to leap at the chance.”
He lets out a sob and screws his eyes shut, turning his head to face the floor.
I gently run my fingers through his hair and I definitely don’t miss the keening sound that comes from his throat. He misses my touches.
