Always down for more stoner lesbians🍃
(I too am always down for stoner lesbians, if anyone would like to take me from a stoner lesbian to stoner lesbianS… come pretty girl🤲🏻)
BUOYANCY
Rhea Ripley x Fem!reader
Warnings: sexy stoners swimming + smut(ish)
This is more or less a Drabble— definitely shorter than the usual but when a story feels good it feels good.
—
The night was warm in that heavy, skin-on-skin kind of way—the air thick with heat and something quieter, deeper. Not quite tension. Not quite peace. Something in between.
Rhea sat beside you at the edge of the pool, her legs stretched out long and bare, toes brushing the surface of the water. The hem of her black pajama shorts clung lazily to her thighs, and her sleeveless tank dipped low over her collarbone, exposing the chain around her neck that you loved to tug when she kissed you too slow.
She was rolling, as always. Fingers deft, movements easy. She could probably do it with her eyes closed by now—not that she’d ever let you test that theory. The joint was tight and even, like her. Confident. Efficient. Unapologetically good at what she did.
“You watching me again, baby?” she asked, not looking up. Her voice was low and warm, curling through your chest like smoke.
“I always do.” You smiled, chin resting on your bent knees, pool water lapping softly at your calves. “It’s a whole performance.”
Rhea lit the joint with a flick of her thumb, the orange tip glowing to life. She took the first drag slow, eyes finally lifting to meet yours. You held the gaze longer than necessary. Her smirk deepened.
“Only ever roll for you,” she said, leaning in and exhaling gently toward your lips. “Better appreciate the show.”
You took the smoke from her mouth like it was a kiss. Everything felt hot, heavy, sweet.
“I do,” you whispered, eyes never leaving hers. “Always.”
You passed the joint back, fingertips grazing hers on purpose. Intentional. Like everything between you two.
The pool lights cast silver-blue shadows across her tattoos, which moved with her breath, hypnotic and familiar.
“You look like a sin,” you murmured.
She turned her head slightly, that signature smirk softening. “And you look like someone who’s in love with one.”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.
You leaned against her, her shoulder pressed to yours, her hand finding your knee and drawing light circles. The silence that followed didn’t stretch—it settled, like a blanket pulled over both of you.
“I like when we get like this,” you said after a beat. “Soft. Slow.”
Rhea hummed low. “It’s when you let me see all of you.”
That stopped your breath for a second.
“I love you,” you said, soft. Like the words were an offering. Like they were holy.
She kissed your temple. “I know. I love you more.”
And neither of you moved, still in damp pajamas, still barefoot on the edge of the world, holding onto the stillness like it was sacred.
The joint was gone now—extinguished and forgotten. But the warmth lingered. Inside your chest, on your skin, in the quiet way Rhea looked at you when she thought you wouldn’t notice.
The pool shimmered, glowing like a slice of moon trapped in water.
You dangled your legs over the edge, dipping your feet just under, letting the heat of the night and the softness of your high curl around you.
Then—Rhea reached for your hand. No words, just a glance. Just the quiet invitation of her fingers brushing against yours.
“Come in with me,” she murmured.
You blinked at her. “We’re in pajamas.”
She stood anyway, shirt clinging damp to her sides. “Then we’ll be in wet pajamas.”
That slow, wicked smile bloomed on her face, and you were helpless to it.
She peeled off her tank and stepped down into the water, her back arching slightly with the temperature. She didn’t look back—she knew you’d follow.
And you did.
The water met your body like a sigh, enveloping you. It made everything feel distant and intimate all at once. You swam lazily to her, hips brushing under the surface.
She floated there, head tilted, eyes hooded from the buzz, from you, from something you could never quite name but always felt when she looked at you like that.
“You gonna keep staring?” she teased, voice honey-slow.
“You give me too much to look at.”
She moved closer. So close you felt her breath even with the water between you.
“You’re not supposed to look. You’re supposed to come here.”
And that’s exactly what you did.
You sank beneath the surface together.
No words. Just instinct. Just weightlessness.
Your hands found her hips. Her fingers found your jaw. She kissed you underwater like it was a ritual—like kissing you any other way wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t rushed. It was deliberate. Measured.
She didn’t kiss you like she was trying to possess you.
She kissed you like you already belonged to her. Like this was the slow confirmation of a truth you both had known long before tonight.
The water curved around your bodies, soft pressure pushing you together. Her lips lingered. Warm. Certain.
You kissed back with everything you didn’t have to say.
It felt like burning slow in a dream.
When you finally broke the surface—gasping, breathless, stunned by the weight of it all—your foreheads touched, eyes closed.
“I love you so much it scares the shit out of me sometimes,” Rhea whispered, water dripping down her face.
“Good,” you breathed. “I want it to scare you. I want it to be real.”
She pulled you in again. Another kiss. Less weightless. More grounded. Like coming home.
And the only sound between you was the lapping of the water and your synced breathing.
Your legs wrapped tighter around her waist, the slow drag of water between you doing nothing to cool the fire building under your skin. Rhea’s hands gripped your thighs just beneath the surface, fingers pressing into the curve of them like she needed to remind herself you were real, that you were hers, and right here. Right now.
She kissed you like she was starving. Deep and slow and consuming. Her tongue slid against yours with practiced confidence, her lips moving with the kind of pressure that left your jaw aching in the best way. You moaned softly, hands fisting into her wet hair, tugging just enough to make her growl low into your mouth.
“Fuck, baby,” she rasped, pulling back just enough to breathe, her forehead pressed to yours. “You’re killin’ me.”
You could barely speak. Your chest heaved, tank top soaked and clinging to every curve, nipples hardened from a mix of cool air and the heated way her gaze kept dropping to your chest.
“Then die madly in love,” you murmured, brushing your lips along her cheekbone, down to her jaw, your voice featherlight but wicked. “I’ll mourn you in wet pajamas.”
That earned a sharp exhale through her nose and a bite to your lower lip. “Don’t tease me, you know how I get.”
You did. You loved how she got. Especially like this—buzzed, wet, hungry, wrapped around you like she never wanted to let go.
Rhea’s hands slipped beneath your shirt, smoothing up the arch of your spine, dragging over damp skin until she could grip your shoulder blades and pull you impossibly closer. You were grinding against her thigh without meaning to, the fabric between you an unbearable tease. The water made everything slick, frictionless in the worst way, and it only made your need sharper.
Her hand slid to your ass, squeezing hard enough to make your hips jerk against her thigh. Her other hand cradled your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone before guiding your mouth back to hers—slow and sure, possessive.
She kissed you like she was claiming territory. Like your lips were hers and always had been. It was less a kiss, more an anchor. A statement. A slow declaration of need.
When she pulled back again, your lips were red and parted, your whole body warm and aching for more. Then, without warning, her grip shifted. She wrapped both arms around you and lifted.
“Rhea!” you squeaked as your back met the edge of the pool, cold tile under your thighs. Her hands slid to your hips as she stepped between your legs, now chest-deep in the water below you, grinning up like she’d just solved every problem that had ever existed.
You blinked down at her, dazed, legs automatically tightening around her waist. “We just got in!”
Her smile deepened, that devilish tilt you knew too well. “Yep. And now I need to be somewhere I can pin you under me and buoyancy doesn’t ruin it.”
Your breath hitched. There was nothing teasing about the way she looked at you—wet hair slicked back, jaw sharp in the moonlight, arms flexing as her thumbs brushed under your waistband.
You leaned forward, kissing her slow, hungry, your voice breaking between breaths. “Then what are you waiting for?”
She didn’t answer with words.
She just grinned wider, hoisted herself up beside you, and pushed you down—finally, fully, gloriously beneath her.
And the night, already warm and heavy and slow, tipped into something molten.
—
Hi! Surprise! No coming soon for this one lol sometimes fuck tradition(I’m in a mood tonight lol)
Hope you enjoyed! Per usual likes, comments, follows and reblogs always appreciated!
Much love💜
—
All Works Taglist(if you’d like to be added just let me know in a comment!)
@itsrheasgirl
@wwefan2002
@rhearipleysbrutality
@sykokittyy
@megamultifandomtrashposts
@caralinda0914
@fruitylittlewriter
@happelu970
@fastermosherzkillkill
Screaming crying gagging ripping out my hair
