Prompt request : Rhea’s out with reader, who’s been a bit of a brat, wanting attention and testing rhea’s patience. Rhea finds out she’s not wearing any underwear under her skirt
lesson learnt / rhea ripley x fem!reader
dom rhea, sub and bratty reader, public sex, edging, tying up, and many things
the morning of the wwe summer kickoff gala was already suffocatingly tense. you spent an hour carefully selecting your outfit, wanting to look perfect for the red carpet, but every time you stepped out of the bathroom to show rhea, she was buried in her phone.
she was pacing the bedroom, her voice tight as she dealt with travel logistics and last minute script changes for smackdown. when you finally stood in front of her, smoothed down your skirt, and asked, "hey, do you think this looks okay, or should i switch to the black dress?" she didn't even look up.
"for fuck’s sake, not now," she snapped, not even registering that it was you she was talking to, "i have bigger problems to worry about, can you just give me five minutes of silence?"
the sharp sting of her tone was enough to ruin your mood entirely. you didn't say another word. you just went back into the bathroom, changed, and finished getting ready in icy, deliberate silence. the feeling of being an afterthought, a nuisance rather than a partner, settled deep in your gut, and by the time you walked back out, you had decided that if she didn't have time for your feelings, she was going to have to make time for your misbehavior.
the party was a high stakes, glittering affair at a rooftop lounge in orlando. the music was loud, and the room was packed with the roster, executives, and high profile guests. rhea looked effortless in a tailored suit, the corset under her jacket cinching her waist and emphasizing her posture, but as soon as you arrived, she was swarmed by people wanting a piece of her time.
you stayed right by her side, but you made sure she felt the distance. every time she looked at you to include you in a conversation, you gave her nothing more than a shallow nod or a dismissive shrug. when she tried to take your hand, you let yours go limp, pulling it away to check your phone or tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. you were present, but you were completely detached.
you watched as rhea’s confusion shifted into genuine frustration. she began to shorten her conversations, her eyes constantly darting toward you, searching for some kind of connection.
when she leaned down and whispered, "are you okay? you've been quiet all night.”
you just looked at her blankly, offered a small, cold shrug, and turned your attention toward the bar.
that was when the 'brat' mode officially kicked in. you decided that if she wanted you to be an accessory, you would be a difficult one
you wandered away from her side, weaving through the crowded floor until you reached the bar. you planted your elbows on the polished wood, tilting your head to look up at the bartender through your lashes. you made sure to keep your back to rhea, but you could feel the weight of her stare burning holes into your spine. you laughed, a bright, artificial sound that you knew carried across the room, and let your hand trail along the bartender's forearm as you ordered your drink.
you lingered, leaning in just a little too close, asking him questions that made him grin, playing the part of the bored, available girlfriend perfectly. you glanced back just once, catching rhea’s eyes. her jaw was set, and she looked ready to snap the glass in her hand.
you didn't stop there. once the bartender was thoroughly distracted, you didn't return to her side. instead, you navigated to the far edge of the rooftop terrace, purposely placing yourself in the middle of a group of younger talent who were laughing and drinking.
you stood in the circle, your movements deliberate, shifting your weight, letting your shoulders drop, and engaging in deep, animated conversation that kept your back firmly turned to where rhea was standing. you saw her try to navigate through the crowd toward you twice, but each time she got close, you effortlessly drifted to the opposite side of the group, dancing just out of her reach, making it impossible for her to corner you without causing a scene.
every time she finally managed to get within a few feet, you would spin away, breathless and feigning obliviousness, making her chase you through the room. it was a game of cat and mouse, and with every passing minute, you saw her composure splintering. she was a predator, and you had spent the entire night goading her, keeping her on edge, and forcing her to watch you belong to everyone but her.
as you were about to disappear again, you felt fingers digging firmly into your skin. she spun you around, her black suit jacket felt heavy and suffocating as she crowded into your personal space, her eyes icy and dark.
"what the fuck are you doing?" she hissed, her voice vibrating with barely contained rage, “you need to calm the hell down. you are testing my patience, and you are doing it in front of every single person in this industry."
you pulled your arm back, feigning innocence as you adjusted your dress. "i’m just having fun, rhea. why are you so tense? it's just a party."
rhea stepped into your space, her presence overwhelming in her tailored black suit and corset. "you can have fun without flirting with everyone in the room, and you certainly can't be acting like this when you're with me. what the fuck is wrong with you tonight?"
she didn't give you a chance to answer. she reached out and grabbed your hand, her grip bruisingly firm as she laced her fingers through yours.
“you are staying right by my side," she commanded, her jaw tight, “you are going to stand there, you are going to be quiet, and you are going to behave."
she started leading you back toward the center of the room, her thumb digging into the back of your hand. that was when the challenge sparked in your eyes. if she wanted you to stay by her side and behave, you would make sure that 'behaving' became the most difficult thing she had ever asked of you.
for the next twenty minutes, you were a model of compliance. you stood perfectly still, your hand locked in hers, offering pleasant nods to the various wrestlers who stopped by to greet her. you looked every bit the doting, well behaved partner. rhea’s shoulders finally dropped a fraction, her grip on your hand relaxing from a warning squeeze to a possessive hold.
as rhea got pulled into a heated conversation about an upcoming match, the heat in the room grew stifling. she shrugged off her black suit jacket, folding it over her arm and revealing the structured black corset beneath. that was your opening.
you leaned in, tucking yourself into her side as if to listen to the conversation, but your hand crept upward. you trailed your fingertips slowly along the edge of her corset, right above her hip, pressing into the firm, laced fabric. you felt the exact moment she stopped breathing. she went rigid, her entire body tensing as she tried to continue her conversation with the other wrestlers, but her eyes glazed over, losing their focus on the topic at hand.
she couldn't pull away without making a scene, and you knew it.
encouraged by her silent struggle, you pushed further. you stepped even closer, letting your hand move from her hip to her exposed bicep. you kneaded the muscle softly, your thumb grazing the edge of the corset again. the sight of her bicep, defined and pulsing with tension, was intoxicating. she let out a sharp, jagged breath, her voice faltering mid sentence as she tried to maintain her composure in front of the group.
she glanced down at you, her eyes wide and dark with a mix of fury and raw, mounting arousal. she didn't say a word, but her grip on your other hand shifted, her nails digging into your palm.
the party remained a suffocating, neon soaked blur of noise and forced pleasantries. when the small group of wrestlers finally dispersed, leaving you and rhea in a rare moment of privacy, the mask of her composure finally slipped. she let out a long, ragged exhale, her shoulders dropping from their rigid posture. she turned to face you, her eyes heavy and searching, burning with a mix of frustration and undeniable desire.
"quit it," she murmured, her voice a low, gravelly command that barely cut through the thumping bass of the lounge, “you’re playing a game you don't know how to finish. stop testing me before i lose my mind right here in public."
you blinked, widening your eyes to feign an innocence that was entirely fake. "i don't know what you mean, rhea. i’m just standing here. is it a crime to be close to my girlfriend?"
she let out a sharp, incredulous sigh, rubbing her temples as if trying to soothe a brewing headache. her gaze lingered on your lips for a second too long before she gripped your elbow, her touch firm, and steered you toward a secluded table in the corner.
she ordered a round of drinks, her movements jerky and clipped. just as the glasses arrived, a familiar face from the roster approached, pulling up a chair to join your table. the conversation shifted to industry politics and upcoming travel schedules, and rhea was forced to turn her attention away from you. she sat with her back straight, leaning into the chat, trying to anchor herself in the normalcy of professional talk.
you waited until she was mid sentence, then reached under the table, finding her hand. you interlaced your fingers with hers, stroking her knuckles with your thumb in a rhythm that was soft, slow, and deliberately agonizing. she faltered for a second, her sentence breaking, but she recovered quickly, forcing a laugh at something the other wrestler said.
you took it further. you guided her hand away from the table's edge, resting it firmly on your thigh. rhea’s grip tightened instantly, her fingers digging into your skin in a warning squeeze. she looked down at you, her eyes dark, trying to maintain her professional facade while her entire body went rigid. she continued to talk, but her voice had lost its steady cadence, turning breathy and strained.
you didn't stop. you began to slide her hand upward, moving inch by inch, tracing the curve of your leg with her palm. you felt the exact moment her focus completely shattered. she went utterly still, the glass in her other hand trembling just a fraction.
the person sitting across from you frowned, glancing at rhea. "you okay, rhea? you look like you’ve seen a ghost."
rhea swallowed hard, her throat visibly bobbing as she fought to keep her composure. she stared straight ahead, her eyes glassy and unfocused, her jaw locked so tightly it looked like it might snap.
“yeah," she rasped, her voice dropping an octave, raw and strained, “fine. just... tired."
you felt her hand reach the very edge of your skirt. she hesitated, her thumb grazing the hem, before you guided her fingers underneath. you pushed her hand firmly against your skin, warm, damp, and completely, undeniably bare.
rhea’s breath hitched, a sharp, audible sound that cut through the music. she froze completely, her entire existence seemingly reduced to the feeling of your skin against her fingertips. she realized then what you had been hiding all night, and the sheer audacity of it left her paralyzed. she couldn't move, she couldn't speak, and she couldn't pull away, she was trapped by the intensity of the sensation, her eyes finally finding yours, wide with a mixture of raw, predatory shock and an agonizing, mounting need. she had spent the night trying to keep her control, but under the table, with her hand pressed against your most private, sensitive skin, she knew she had already lost the war.
a dangerous, slow smirk curled across her lips, the look of a predator who had just realized the prey had walked right into her trap.
her hand, which had been frozen against your bare skin, suddenly shifted. she didn't pull back, instead, she curled her fingers, her touch becoming deliberate and rhythmic. her middle finger found you with agonizing precision, pressing firmly against your most sensitive point.
you gasped, a sharp, ragged sound that you barely managed to stifle by biting your lip. you tried to lean back, to pull away from the contact, but her hand clamped down on your thigh, holding you firmly in place, forcing you to endure the pleasure she was so expertly crafting.
she didn't stop talking. she kept the conversation going with the wrestler across from you, her tone calm, professional, and chillingly steady. she even laughed at a joke, the sound vibrating in her chest while her finger swirled against you, finding your rhythm and increasing the pressure just enough to make your vision blur.
"so, i think we’re definitely looking at a title shot by summer.” she said, her voice smooth and collected, showing no sign of the storm she was brewing under the table.
you were trembling now, your hands gripping the edge of the seat so hard your knuckles turned white. you tried to maintain your composure, to keep your expression neutral, but every time she flicked her finger over you, a jolt of electricity shot straight to your core, making your hips twitch against your will.
she caught your gaze, her eyes dark, heavy, and filled with a smug, mocking intensity. she knew exactly what she was doing to you. she had taken your game, shattered your control, and turned the tables so completely that you were the one now struggling to breathe.
"you look a little flushed," the guest said, peering at you with concern, "everything okay?"
rhea’s hand didn't falter. she applied a firm, slow pressure, her nail grazing you in a way that made your head snap back. she looked at the guest, her expression entirely innocent, while her fingers wreaked total havoc on your senses.
"she's just tired as well," rhea said, her voice dripping with a false, saccharine sweetness as she moved her hand again, deeper and faster this time, "aren't you, baby? but don't worry. we're going to be leaving very, very soon."
you couldn't even speak, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches. you were completely at her mercy, pinned by her hand, and the realization that she was going to make you lose it right there in front of everyone was both the most terrifying and the most exhilarating thing you had ever felt.
the conversation around the table flowed like a slow, heavy river, filled with the boisterous laughter of your peers and the clinking of expensive crystal, but you heard none of it. your world had shrunk down to the sharp, electric point of contact between rhea’s fingers and your most sensitive skin. she maintained a perfectly composed expression, her chin resting on her free hand as she nodded along to someone’s story about a recent match, all while her other hand wreaked absolute havoc.
rhea’s nails grazed you, a calculated tease that sent a jolt of pure white heat straight to your core. every time she pressed a thumb against your clit, you had to bite your inner cheek until you tasted copper just to keep from crying out. the contrast was maddening, she looked like the epitome of professional poise, her eyeliner sharp and her gaze steady, while beneath the table, she was thoroughly dismantling your composure. she felt your slickness, felt the way you were already trembling, and a smug, possessive smirk tugged at the corner of her lips that no one else dared to notice.
she moved with a rhythmic, unrelenting pressure, her hand circling you, then pulling back just far enough to make you desperate for more. you shifted in your seat, your inner thighs involuntarily clenching against her palm. the friction was agonizingly perfect. rhea leaned in closer, her shoulder brushing against yours, and you caught the familiar, intoxicating scent of her perfume mixed with the faint, metallic tang of the gym.
“you're shivering, baby," she murmured, her tone deceptively gentle, meant only for your ears, “is the air conditioning bothering you? or is it something else?"
she took advantage of your inability to answer, her middle finger sliding deep inside you, finding that specific, aching spot that made your head loll back against the chair. she didn't stop talking to the wrestler sat opposite her, she actually cracked a joke, her voice low and effortless, but her hand didn't miss a beat, matching her tempo to the cadence of her own casual speech. you were drowning in it. the public nature of the act, the sheer audacity of her reclaiming control after your hours of rebellion, turned the thrill into a fever dream.
you tried to look anywhere else, but your eyes kept drifting back to her face. she was watching you now, her gaze heavy and dark, daring you to break, daring you to beg. when she pushed two fingers in this time, a sharp, ragged sound escaped your lips before you could stop it. the table went quiet for a split second, a few heads turning toward you, but rhea didn't flinch. she just smoothed a stray hair from your forehead, her thumb lingering on your temple as she continued to push you toward the edge, her hand beneath the table speeding up, relentless and punishing. you were completely unraveling, lost in the dangerous game she was playing, and as the waves began to build, you knew she had won.
you were teetering on the precipice, your fingernails digging into the velvet upholstery of the chair until your knuckles turned white. the air in the room felt thick, static charged and suffocating, and the pressure building behind your navel was becoming an physical ache you couldn't contain. you leaned into her, your instincts screaming for the release she had promised, and you sought the sanctuary of her shoulder to muffle the cry that was rising in your throat.
you were ready to surrender, ready to let the wave crest and pull you under, but the sensation suddenly vanished.
rhea pulled back. the sudden absence of her touch was jarring, a cold vacuum left in the wake of all that burning friction. you gasped, your head jerking up, your eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears and pure, unadulterated shock. she didn’t just stop, she pulled her hand out entirely, leaving you feeling raw, exposed, and trembling violently in the sudden chill of the room.
slowly, with a deliberate, maddening grace, she brought her hand up. she didn't look at the other guests; she looked only at you, her eyes hooded and dark with a predatory hunger that made your stomach flip. she didn't wipe her hand on a napkin. instead, she tilted her head slightly, her gaze locking onto yours, and she slowly, methodically extended her middle finger toward her own lips.
the movement was slow, a wet, lingering drag of her tongue against her own skin, tasting the evidence of your undoing. she kept her eyes fixed on your face the entire time, watching the way your breath hitched and your lips parted in a silent, broken plea. she was savoring the salt and the scent of you, letting you see exactly how much control she had regained. she looked like a queen surveying a conquered territory, her expression a mix of triumph and icy, calculated amusement.
you were staring at her with wide, pleading eyes, your body still humming with the ghost of her touch, your thighs pressed together in a desperate, futile attempt to soothe the ache she had intentionally left behind. you wanted to beg, you would have said anything to make her finish what she started, but she silenced you with a single, sharp look.
she leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and resting her hand on the table, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the tablecloth. she was perfectly composed, the picture of social elegance, while you were unraveling at the seams just inches away. she watched you struggle to regulate your breathing, the smirk on her face deepening when she saw you shift, trying to hide your frantic, ragged state from the others. she had brought you right to the very edge of the cliff and then, with nothing more than a flick of her tongue, she had yanked you back, leaving you dangling in the most excruciating, delicious limbo you had ever known.
the departure of a few wrestlers offered a momentary reprieve, the chair next to you scraping against the floorboards as they stood and drifted toward the bar. the sudden thinning of the crowd gave you a tiny, fragile bubble of privacy, and you didn’t waste a second. you leaned into her space, your voice barely a ragged, desperate tremor, your eyes searching hers for some sign of mercy.
"what are you doing?" you hissed, the words stumbling over each other in your haste, “why would you just... why would you stop like that? you know i was-“
rhea didn’t even blink. she remained reclined in her chair, her posture effortlessly relaxed, radiating a casual, dangerous composure that stood in stark contrast to your own fraying nerves. she picked up her drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass, and took a slow, deliberate sip before setting it back down. she turned her head toward you, her gaze heavy and immovable, pinning you to your seat.
"i'm teaching you a lesson, sweetheart," she murmured, her voice a low, gravelly vibration that seemed to settle right at the base of your spine, “you spent the entire night playing games. you ran, you flirted, you acted like you were untouchable. you wanted to be a brat? fine. you get treated like one."
she leaned in, her proximity making your head spin. you could smell the faint, intoxicating musk of her skin, sharpened by the thrill of her cruelty. she reached out, not to touch you again, but to hook a single finger under your chin, forcing you to look at her, to witness the absolute authority in her eyes.
"you thought you were being clever, showing up here without panties," she whispered, her voice dropping into a register so intimate and dark it made your stomach churn with a sickening, wonderful heat, “thinking you could tease me, thinking you could provoke me until i lost my head. you wanted to see if you could make me snap, didn't you?"
she chuckled, a short, humorless sound that lacked any warmth. she traced the line of your jaw with her thumb, her touch rough and possessive, "you made your choice when you walked out of the house tonight, and this is the result. you don't get to come, not until i decide you’ve earned it. not until i decide you’ve been punished enough for testing my patience."
she shifted closer, her chest brushing against your arm, her eyes darkening until they were almost black. she leaned all the way into your ear, her warm breath ghosting over your skin, sending a fresh wave of shivers cascading down your back.
"you’re a slut, aren't you?" she breathed, the word heavy with both disdain and a possessive, blistering hunger, “thinking you could parade yourself around like that, waiting for me to lose control. well, you found it. but you don't get the prize. you stay right here, you stay exactly this hungry, and you thank me for letting you sit at my table at all."
your face burned, a mixture of humiliation and genuine hurt rising up to meet the heat still lingering between your legs. you pulled your chin away from her grip, crossing your arms over your chest and jutting your lower lip out in a sharp, defiant pout. you glared at her, trying to channel every ounce of your frustration into your stare, but rhea only arched a perfectly groomed brow, looking entirely unimpressed by your display.
"don't you dare pout now," she said, her voice dropping into a warning tone, “you don't get to act like the victim when you spent the entire night begging for this reaction. you made your choices, and you knew exactly what the consequences would be when you left that house."
"maybe i wouldn't have acted like a 'brat' if you’d actually bothered to give me some attention instead of ignoring me all night," you snapped back, your voice tight.
the air between you shifted instantly. rhea’s expression faltered for a heartbeat, a flicker of genuine guilt crossing her features as she remembered her own cold behavior earlier in the day. she opened her mouth to argue, but you didn't give her the chance.
you leaned in, your voice dropping to a dangerous, reckless whisper, “and if you’re not going to give me what i want, i’m sure there are plenty of others here who would be more than happy to."
rhea went deathly still. the air in your lungs seemed to vanish as she stared at you, her eyes widening in a mixture of disbelief and genuine, predatory rage. she looked at you as if you had officially lost your mind, her jaw clenching so hard you could see the muscle jump in her cheek. the sheer audacity of your threat hung heavy in the space between you, and for a terrifying second, you thought you’d finally pushed her past the point of no return.
you didn’t wait for her to respond. the suffocating tension was too much, and you pushed your chair back, the legs screeching sharply against the floor. you stood up, your legs trembling from the lingering ache and the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and turned to walk away, fully intending to head for the exit or at least the bar.
you only made it two steps.
a hand like a vice clamped firmly around your wrist, its grip bruising and absolute. you were yanked backward with enough force that you stumbled, practically collapsing back into her personal space. rhea didn't let go, she stood up with you, looming over you with a dark, terrifying intensity that made the surrounding tables seem a thousand miles away.
she pulled you until you were flush against her, her face inches from yours, her eyes blazing with a mix of jealousy and dark possessiveness.
"sit the fuck back down," she growled, her voice a low, guttural snarl that echoed in the quiet space, “where the fuck do you think you're going?"
you didn’t answer her with words, you decided to fake it and simply tilted your head, your gaze flicking pointedly toward the bar where the barista was still drying a glass, his eyes lingering on your silhouette for just a fraction of a second too long. it was a calculated provocation, a deliberate spark thrown onto the gasoline soaked tension between you.
rhea’s reaction was instantaneous. she jerked your wrist, her grip tightening until it was almost painful, and shoved you back down into the chair with a bruising force.
“don't you even fucking think about it," she hissed, her voice a serrated blade. the possessiveness in her tone was visceral, a warning that echoed in your marrow. she hovered over you, her shadow completely eclipsing the light from the overhead lamps, her chest heaving as she glared down at you, "if you look at him one more time, i swear to god, i will make you regret ever walking out of that house tonight."
you glared back, breathless and defiant, your heart hammering against your ribs. you knew you were playing with fire, but the sight of her completely losing that icy, indifferent composure was the fuel you craved.
she remained standing, her hand still locked onto your wrist as if she were afraid you might bolt again. she stood there, breathing hard, her eyes darting across the room in a blur of restless energy. then, her gaze locked onto the heavy mahogany door at the far end of the hallway, the sign for the restrooms.
a dark, knowing glint replaced the rage in her eyes. her lips curled into a wicked, predatory smirk that had nothing to do with forgiveness and everything to do with intent.
she didn't say a word. she simply snatched your wrist again, pulling you out of your chair with such sudden momentum that you nearly tripped over your own feet. she didn't care who saw, she didn't care about the remaining guests or the half finished drinks left on the table. she marched you across the room, her stride long and purposeful, dragging you toward the dimly lit corridor like a prize she was tired of sharing with the public.
"you want attention?" she muttered, her voice low and tight as she practically hauled you toward the bathroom door, “you're going to get all the attention you can handle. and you aren't leaving until i'm finished with you."
the hallway blurred as she yanked you along, her grip on your wrist so tight you could feel her pulse drumming against your skin, a frantic, rhythmic reminder of her unraveling control. you were practically stumbling to keep pace with her long, predatory strides, the air between you humming with a volatile, electric charge that made the hair on your arms stand up.
as soon as she reached the heavy, ornate door of the ladies' room, she didn't bother checking if it was empty. she shoved the door open with her free hand, her voice a sharp, commanding crack that cut through the soft ambient music of the party.
"everybody out," she barked, her tone devoid of patience or compromise, “now. get the fuck out."
a couple of women near the vanity froze, their eyes widening at the sight of rhea’s murderous expression and the way she was practically dragging you behind her. they didn't wait for a second invitation, they scrambled past her, dodging the intensity radiating off her frame, their heels clicking rapidly against the tile as they fled. once the last one had vanished, rhea slammed the door shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the tiled space. she turned the heavy brass lock with a definitive click that made your stomach drop.
she didn't give you a moment to steady your breathing. she marched you across the cold tiles and slammed you backward against the solid wood of the door. the impact rattled your teeth, but the shock of it was nothing compared to the sight of her hovering over you. she was a looming wall of muscle and barely contained fury, her chest heaving, her eyes dark, bottomless pits of obsession.
your heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs, and though your body ached for her, a stubborn, bratty streak of defiance flared up. you refused to let her have the easy win. as she leaned in, her lips parted and eyes tracking your mouth with predatory precision, you jerked your head to the side, pressing your cheek against the cool door. you pushed both hands against her chest, bracing yourself, trying to create distance between your trembling body and the magnetic pull of her presence.
“no," you breathed, though the protest sounded more like a whimper. "you don't get to just-"
she didn't budge. she was immovable, a force of nature that simply absorbed your resistance without so much as a flicker of hesitation. your hands against her firm chest felt like nothing against her sheer, dense power. she let out a low, dangerous growl that resonated in her throat, a sound that made your knees turn to water.
she reached up, her large, calloused hand cupping your jaw with a grip that was both firm and terrifyingly possessive. she didn't ask, she forced. she squeezed your cheeks just enough to make your jaw ache, guiding your face back toward hers until your lips were hovering a fraction of an inch apart. she stared into your eyes, daring you to move, daring you to fight her again, her thumb tracing your bottom lip with a bruising pressure.
"you think you can push me?" she whispered, her breath hot against your skin, smelling of expensive whiskey and something untamed, “you think you can look at someone else and walk away?"
she didn't wait for an answer. she crashed her mouth onto yours, her kiss hard, punishing, and utterly consuming. it wasn't a question of affection, it was a reclamation. she bit down on your lower lip, a sharp, stinging sensation that tasted of iron and desire, and her tongue pushed past your teeth, claiming your mouth with a ferocity that stole the remaining breath from your lungs. you were pinned, trapped between the cold wood of the door and the overwhelming heat of her body, and as her hands roamed over your waist, you realized the defiance had drained out of you, leaving only the desperate, echoing need for her to devour you whole.
the sting of the kiss was addictive, but your bratty defiance wasn't entirely spent yet. as she deepened the assault, you caught her lower lip between your own teeth and bit down, hard.
rhea pulled back with a sharp, ragged hiss, her hand instinctively flying to her mouth. she pulled her fingers away, and when she saw the faint smear of blood staining her thumb, her eyes didn't fill with anger; they darkened into something far more dangerous. she let out a low, predatory chuckle, a dark sound that seemed to vibrate through the tiles. she didn't wipe the blood away, she just dragged her thumb across her own bottom lip, her eyes locked on yours with a look of pure, hungry intent.
"you want to play rough?" she murmured, her voice a gravelly rasp, “fine by me."
she didn't waste another second. she moved with a sudden, overwhelming strength, hooking her arms beneath your thighs and lifting you effortlessly off your feet. you gasped as your world tilted, and then you were being hoisted up and deposited onto the edge of the granite vanity. the marble was cold against your skin, a sharp contrast to the furnace of her body as she stepped directly between your legs. she didn't just stand there, she pressed her frame against you, using her hips to force your knees further apart, pinning your legs open so that there was nowhere for you to go.
you felt entirely exposed, perched there at her mercy. she reached up, her large hands finding the nape of your neck and pulling your hair back in a firm, unrelenting grip that forced you to arch your back. she didn't offer you the comfort of a kiss this time. instead, she leaned down, her lips grazing the sensitive cord of your throat.
she started low, her tongue hot and wet against your skin, before her teeth scraped deliberately over the pulse point in your neck. she bit down, not enough to truly hurt, but enough to leave a mark, a claim. you let out a strangled, broken sound, your head falling back as her teeth dragged slowly along the side of your throat, followed immediately by the soothing, burning heat of her tongue. she was marking you, claiming every inch of your skin while her body remained a hard, immovable weight against yours, ensuring you had no choice but to feel exactly how much she wanted you.
she traced the bite mark she’d just left on your neck with her tongue, her breath hot and ragged against your skin. she pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes hooded, her pupils blown wide with a mix of fury and raw, unchecked desire. she shifted her hips, grinding herself against you through the thin silk of your dress, and her hand moved to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair to force you to look at her.
"say it," she commanded, her voice a low, gravelly vibration that rattled your chest, “say that you’re mine."
you felt the power of her gaze, the sheer intensity of her presence, but the brat in you was still humming, still wired from the night’s defiance. you tilted your chin up, meeting her stare with a look of pure, unadulterated insolence. "no."
the word hadn't even fully left your lips before her hand blurred. a sharp, stinging slap landed against your thigh, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles with a crack that made your heart skip. she didn't give you time to recover; she surged forward, her hand snapping up to grip your jaw, her thumb digging into the soft skin beneath your lip, forcing your mouth open.
“don't you dare," she hissed, her face inches from yours, her forehead resting against your own, “you are going to say it. i'm done playing these games with you. say it, or i swear you aren't walking out of this bathroom tonight."
your lip stung from the slap, and your heart was racing, but a slow, wicked smile spread across your face. you deliberately licked your lips, tasting the salt of your own skin, and stared back at her, completely unafraid of the fire burning in her eyes. you could see her frustration mounting. she hated how difficult you were being, hated that your defiance only made her want to break you more.
she growled, a feral sound that died in her throat, and shoved her hand between your legs. she didn't ease into it, she went straight for your core, her fingers sliding deep and hard, moving at a relentless, punishing pace. you gasped, your nails sinking into the edge of the granite sink as your body betrayed you, already arching into her touch. she hit every nerve, every sensitive point with a brutal efficiency that made your head spin.
just when you felt the first ripple of an impending climax, the moment where your control was beginning to shatter, she stopped.
she pulled back, her fingers remaining deep inside you, but she froze her motion, holding you right on the razor's edge of release. she watched you struggle, watched your breath hitch and your eyes roll back, her expression one of cold, calculating triumph. she shifted her weight, pinning your legs further apart, and leaned down until her lips were ghosting over your ear.
"you’re so close, baby," she whispered, her voice a cruel, taunting promise. she let her fingers twitch once, just enough to make you whimper, before she held completely still, “say it. tell me you're mine, or i’m going to leave you exactly like this until you're begging."
your body was a wire pulled to its breaking point. the friction of her fingers, even stalled, had left you slick and aching, your inner muscles twitching in a rhythmic, involuntary pulse that screamed for completion. you were gasping, your head lolling back against the cold mirror, but despite the way your vision was blurring at the edges, you clamped your mouth shut. you bit the inside of your cheek until it hurt, refusing to give her the verbal submission she was hunting for.
rhea let out a dry, sarcastic chuckle that didn't reach her eyes, “you’re just hurting yourself, you know," she murmured, her voice dripping with a mix of genuine annoyance and dark amusement, “you’re the only one suffering here. i’m perfectly fine. just say the words, baby, and get your reward. why make it so difficult?"
you rolled your eyes at her, a defiant flick of your gaze that seemed to set her off. rhea scoffed, her expression hardening into something sharper, more calculating. she didn't look at you with desire anymore; she looked at you like a puzzle she was finally done trying to solve politely. she took a slow, deliberate step back, her eyes raking over your body from the flush on your chest to the trembling of your thigh, with a look of cold assessment.
her hands moved to her waist. she didn't look away from your eyes as she unbuckled her belt, the leather sliding through the loops with a sharp, rhythmic sound that seemed to punctuate the silence of the room. she pulled it free, holding the thick strap in her hand and weighing it, her gaze flickering down to the belt and then back to your face.
before you could protest, she lunged. her movements were efficient and terrifyingly strong; she grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them together with one hand. with the other, she deftly wound the belt around your wrists, pulling it tight enough to bite into your skin before looping it around the heavy metal plumbing beneath the sink.
you went still, staring at her, utterly puzzled, “what are you doing?" you breathed, a flash of genuine confusion cutting through your haze.
rhea just smirked, a dark, dangerous thing, “if you won't use your mouth for what i want, then you don't get to use it at all," she said, her voice dropping into a low, final tone, “if you’re going to be this stubborn, then you only get to watch."
you tugged weakly against the restraints, your heart doing a frantic, heavy rhythm in your chest as you realized she wasn't bluffing. she wasn't going to finish you. she was going to make you suffer.
she turned her back to you for a fraction of a second, her hands moving to the button of her own trousers. you watched, frozen, as she unfastened them and slowly slid her own hand inside, her fingers disappearing into the warmth of her own clothes. she turned back to face you, her free hand slamming down onto the sink beside your hip, her knuckles white with the pressure. she held your gaze, her expression unreadable and intense, as she began to move her hand against herself, her eyes never leaving yours, forcing you to witness the pleasure she was denying you.
the sound that tore from your throat wasn't a word; it was a high, keening whine of pure, unadulterated deprivation. being bound, helpless, and forced to watch the woman who had been torturing you all night finally give herself the attention she was withholding from you was a special kind of cruelty. your wrists chafed against the unforgiving leather of the belt, the friction a sharp reminder that you were completely at her mercy.
rhea didn't just watch you suffer, she fed on it. she leaned in, her weight heavy and imposing against your thighs, and began to press soft, maddeningly slow kisses just beneath your ear. she didn't kiss your lips; she didn't give you that small, sweet mercy. instead, she traced the sensitive line of your jaw, her lips lingering on the pulse point that was fluttering like a trapped bird. then, she opened her mouth against your skin, letting out a deep, throaty moan that wasn't just for her own pleasure, it was designed to unravel you.
"fuck.” she cursed, the word vibrating against your neck, raw and jagged. it was a sound of release, a sound that made your own body convulse in a desperate attempt to close the distance between you.
she pulled back just enough to look at you, her face flushed, her eyes darkening with that signature, predatory hunger. she saw your dilated pupils, the way your lips were parted, the way your body was straining against the restraints to reach her. she let out a soft, dark huff of laughter, her hand continuing its relentless, rhythmic motion beneath her own clothes. she was entirely in control, her face a mask of composed, arrogant satisfaction.
"i know what you’re thinking," she whispered, her voice dropping into a register that was both velvet and razor-wire. she reached out, trailing a single finger down the curve of your chest, deliberately stopping just inches from your own core, hovering there as if to emphasize the chasm between you, “i can see it in your eyes, baby. you want to touch me, and stop me from doing this to myself and make me do it to you instead."
she leaned in closer, her breath hot and damp against your ear, her scent, that intoxicating blend of leather, salt, and raw, untamed adrenaline, filling your senses, “but you’re not going to get that satisfaction, are you? because you had your chance to be good, and you chose to be a brat instead."
she shifted her hips, grinding into her own hand, her gaze locked onto yours with a terrifyingly clinical focus. her voice dropped to a low, hissed command that made your stomach clench, “you don't deserve it. you don't get to touch me, you don't get to come, and you don't get to do anything but watch."
the sheer sight of her, the way her eyes rolled back as she started to lose her own composure, was too much. you were desperate, your body trembling against the constraints, and your voice finally betrayed you.
"please," you sobbed, the word barely a whisper against the cool air of the bathroom, "rhea, please... don't do this to me. i'm sorry, just... please."
rhea didn't stop. she didn't even slow down. she just let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated against your collarbone, her hand moving with a sudden, frantic rhythm that made the muscles in her forearm cord and flex.
“that’s it," she breathed, her voice dripping with triumph, “beg for it. i love hearing you sound so broken."
the sound of her pleasure, a raw, guttural noise that filled the small space, was the final straw. you couldn't help yourself. you started to grind your hips, trying to find some form of friction, some way to bridge the agonizing gap between your desire and her indifference. you pushed yourself against the cold porcelain of the sink, your thighs slick and aching, searching for the release she was denying you.
you were watching her face, mesmerized by the way her features softened and darkened as she reached her own peak. her breathing hitched, sharp and ragged, and as she clutched the edge of the sink, her body went rigid. she groaned, a deep, earth shaking sound that echoed off the tiles, her climax washing over her like a tidal wave.
the intensity of the moment was so volatile, so charged with the energy of her release and your own mounting desperation, that you shattered right along with her.
you didn't need her touch; you didn't need her hands. you were so attuned to her, so hopelessly lost in the orbit of her pleasure, that the second she went over the edge, you followed. your body locked up, your back arching violently off the sink as a series of heavy, shuddering contractions tore through you. you cried out, your voice echoing hers, your head thrown back as you crested in a haze of white hot shock.
rhea gasped, her eyes snapping open, dilated and wild, as she felt your body convulse against the sink. she went perfectly still, her hand frozen, as she watched you unravel, her breath hitching in her own chest. the silence that followed was heavy, broken only by your ragged, overlapping breaths. she looked at you with a look that was equal parts shock and possessive pride, realizing that even when she tried to keep it all to herself, she still had the power to drag you down into the dark with her.
rhea stayed frozen there for a long, heavy minute, her hand still slick and trembling slightly against her own thigh. she watched you, observing the way your chest heaved in frantic, uneven bursts, your skin flushed a deep, ruined crimson, and the way you remained anchored to the sink by the leather belt around your wrists. she let the silence of the bathroom stretch, the only sound the frantic thrumming of your pulse and the distant, muffled bass of the party still pulsing through the walls.
the look on her face shifted from shock into a slow, cruel realization. she finally pulled her hand away, wiping it off on a paper towel with an agonizingly slow deliberation before turning her gaze back to you. she didn't look away from your face for even a second. as she leaned in, her eyes trailed over your disheveled state, the way your lips were swollen, your eyes unfocused and swimming with the lingering tremors of your orgasm.
a low, rattling chuckle started in her chest, deepening into a mocking, vibrating sound that seemed to taunt the very air you were trying to catch.
"pathetic," she whispered, the word sharp and cutting, devoid of any warmth. she reached out with her free hand, her fingers tucking a damp lock of hair behind your ear, her touch lingering in a way that felt like a brand, “you really are just pathetic, aren't you? i didn't even have to lift a finger to get you to cum."
she let her hand trail down your throat, her thumb pressing lightly against the hollow of your neck, feeling the rapid, frantic beat of your heart beneath her skin. her smirk was wide and predatory, fueled by the sheer power she held over your nervous system. she took the same fingers she had just used on herself, slick and smelling of your shared heat and, without breaking eye contact, she forced them into your mouth.
the taste was intense, a mixture of your own release and her scent, and you hummed against her skin, your eyes fluttering shut as you instinctively sucked on her fingers, the bratty defiance in your soul completely replaced by a hollow, aching submission.
rhea let out a ragged breath, her other hand sliding up to wrap around your throat. it wasn't a choke, but a firm, possessive grip that held your head in place as she leaned in to kiss you. the kiss was deep, slow, and devastating, tasting of everything that had just happened in this cramped, tiled space. she pulled back just enough to let you breathe, her thumb rubbing against the side of your neck, her eyes darkening with an intensity that made you want to crawl out of your own skin.
"god," she rasped, her voice thick with a dark, twisted affection, “i love how you’re such a slut for me. you have no idea how much i love watching you lose it like that."
she looked you up and down, a slow, appraising gaze that made you feel incredibly vulnerable, yet strangely cherished. she reached out to undo the belt around your wrists, letting your arms fall limply to your sides, though you didn't move to pull away. she stepped even closer, pressing her hips into yours and tilting her head to the side, a glint of genuine, softening desire replacing the cruelty.
"maybe you’ve been punished enough," she murmured, her voice losing its edge and dropping into a honeyed, dangerous purr, “maybe you deserve to get what you want. but this time, it’s going to be done by my tongue, and exactly how i want it."
she tilted her head, watching you through heavy, dark lashes, her expression demanding. "say it, baby. tell me you’re mine. say it for mami, and show me you’ve finally learned your lesson."
you were trembling, your heart breaking through your ribs, and the need for her touch was becoming a physical ache you couldn't survive without. you reached out, clutching at the lapels of her jacket, your voice a fractured, desperate plea. "i'm yours, i'm all yours. please... mami, please touch me. please."
rhea’s expression softened, the hard, predatory mask finally slipping away to reveal the raw, possessive hunger underneath. she let out a low, satisfied hum as she watched you struggle to find your footing, your hands still shaky as you gripped her shoulders for support. she stepped back just enough, her eyes burning into yours with a silent promise that made your knees turn to liquid.
"that’s a good girl," she murmured, her voice thick and raspy, vibrating with a pride that made your heart swell. she reached up, her large hands cupping your face, her thumbs tracing the damp, flushed skin of your cheeks, “i knew you’d come around eventually. i told you, didn't i? you just needed to learn your place."
she didn't give you another second to catch your breath. she moved with a sudden, fluid grace, dropping down until she was kneeling on the cold bathroom tiles directly between your legs. she positioned herself perfectly, her hands coming up to grip your thighs, her fingers digging into your skin with a possessive strength that held you firmly in place against the sink.
she looked up at you one last time, her eyes dark, hooded, and filled with an intense, singular focus. she didn't wait for you to speak again, she simply parted your legs further with her knees and leaned forward.
the first touch of her tongue against your clit was a jolt of pure, electric fire. she was slow, methodical, and agonizingly thorough, her tongue swirling in lazy, teasing circles that made you gasp and arch your back instinctively. she knew exactly how sensitive you were, especially after the way she had just left you trembling, and she used that knowledge to drive you absolutely insane.
she licked upward in a long, deliberate stroke, her breath hot against your core, before pulling back to suck gently, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. you let out a broken, high pitched keening sound, your fingers tangling into her hair, pulling her closer, desperate to feel more of her. she didn't rush. she worked you with a rhythmic, unrelenting pressure, her tongue darting in and out, building the heat until the air in the room felt heavy and suffocating.
every time you tried to pull away, she would tighten her grip on your thighs, anchoring you, refusing to let you escape the pleasure she was so expertly crafting. she was claiming you, marking you with her touch, and as she began to suck harder, her movements getting faster and more frantic, you realized that she wasn't just giving you what you wanted, she was making sure you belonged to her, completely and utterly, with every single nerve ending in your body.
your moans filled the small, tiled space, no longer muffled or polite but raw, messy sounds that bounced off the walls. you didn’t care who could hear outside the door, the only thing that mattered was the incredible, punishing friction of rhea’s tongue against you. you pushed your hips harder against her mouth, desperately trying to drive her deeper, wanting to absorb every bit of the sensation she was inflicting.
rhea didn't back down, she rose to the challenge, her hands locking onto your hips with a grip that left no room for retreat. she was relentless, her tongue flicking in precise, teasing rhythms that hit every nerve you had, over and over again, until your vision started to white out.
your back arched into an extreme, strained curve, your body vibrating with the sheer force of it. you were squirming, your legs kicking out and then locking around her shoulders, trying to pull her even closer. you were shaking from your head to your toes, the tremors violent and uncontrollable as the pressure in your core began to crest.
“rhea-" you choked out, your voice thin and fractured, your fingers digging into her hair so hard it must have hurt, but she didn't flinch. she just let out a muffled growl against your skin, her grip tightening on your thighs as she felt your muscles beginning to spasm. she knew you were right on the brink, and she fed on your desperation, her tongue swirling, faster and deeper, refusing to let you slip away from the intensity she had built.
you were completely gone, lost in the rhythm of her mouth and the overwhelming, glorious feeling of being entirely at her mercy, your entire body shaking as you finally began to shatter.
rhea felt the frantic, building pulse of your core, your body bucking against her mouth as you neared the threshold. she didn't just want you to come, she wanted you to break completely. with a low, guttural sound of approval, she slid a finger inside you, finding that aching, sensitive spot and pushing just deep enough to make you sob.
she picked up the pace, her thumb circling your clit in a blur of motion while her finger moved in and out with a rhythmic, pounding intensity. the addition of her touch combined with her tongue was a sensory overload, a shattering collision of friction and heat that ripped the last remnants of control from your hands.
you let out a guttural, desperate cry, your head snapping back as the orgasm finally claimed you. you were shaking so violently you felt like you might snap in half, your legs trembling against her shoulders and your hands gripping the edges of the sink until your knuckles turned white. you came in waves, deep, shuddering contractions that pulsed against her mouth and finger, and rhea didn't pull away once.
she stayed exactly where she was, licking you, tasting every drop of your release, catching you on her tongue as you spilled over. she didn't let a single bit of your pleasure go to waste, her eyes locked onto yours as you collapsed, your body slack and ruined against the vanity. she was thorough, relentless, and possessive, her tongue sweeping over you to savor the taste of your surrender.
when the last of the tremors finally faded and your breathing started to slow, rhea slowly pulled her finger out, her breath hitching as she looked up at you. she looked satisfied, her lips stained and glistening, her eyes dark with a pride that made your heart ache. she reached up and wiped a stray drop from your inner thigh with her thumb, then brought it to her own lips, tasting you one last time before she rose to her feet, finally closing the distance between you to pull you into a crushing, suffocating embrace.
rhea stood slowly, her movements fluid and predatory, but her eyes remained locked on yours with an intensity that made your skin prickle. she still had the taste of you on her tongue, and she hummed, a low, pleased vibration, as she licked her lips clean, savoring every lingering drop of your release. the sight of her, flushed, wild haired, and looking so utterly possessive of you, made your head spin. you watched her with eyes wide and soft, brimming with a dazed, unadulterated adoration that you were too exhausted to even try to hide.
she stepped into your space, her frame looming over you, and braced her hands on the cold marble of the sink on either side of your hips. she had you completely hemmed in, a physical barrier that reminded you exactly who owned you.
"you taste so good.” she murmured, her voice a low, gravelly rasp that seemed to echo inside your own chest.
without warning, she leaned in and captured your mouth in a deep, wet kiss. it was a deliberate, lingering transfer, forcing you to taste your own nectar from her lips, the flavor of your climax mingling with the heat of her mouth. you sighed against her, your lips parting to welcome her tongue, the kiss tasting like a confession.
she pulled back just enough to look at you, her thumbs stroking the sensitive skin of your hips. her expression was smug, the look of a victor who had successfully broken a wild thing. she tilted her head, her dark eyeliner smudged just enough to look even more dangerous, and narrowed her eyes playfully.
"so," she whispered, her voice dropping into a dangerous, teasing purr, "are we done being a brat for the night? or do i need to take you back to the house and finish this lesson properly?"
you looked up at her, your chest still rising and falling in heavy, ragged hitches, your hair a mess and your body still humming with the ghost of her touch. you couldn't even find the energy to feign defiance anymore. a small, soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, the smile of someone who had been thoroughly dismantled and loved it. you gave a slow, shaky nod, leaning forward to press your forehead against hers, closing your eyes in a silent, blissful surrender.
rhea’s hands were steady and surprisingly gentle as she reached for the leather belt still looped around the plumbing. with a quick, practiced flick of her wrist, she undid the restraint, her fingers lingering for a heartbeat against your pulse point to make sure you were still shaking. she reached up, her large hands spanning your waist as she effortlessly lifted you from the vanity, setting your feet down on the cool tile. you stumbled slightly, your legs still feeling like jelly, and she caught you, her grip firm and grounding.
she didn't let you adjust yourself. instead, her hands moved to the hem of your dress, smoothing the silk down with a touch that was possessive and deliberate. she pulled the fabric straight, her knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs one last time, ensuring everything was exactly to her liking. she stepped in close, cupping your face to tilt your head back, and pressed a final, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting you, claiming you, and leaving you breathless all over again.
then she turned, her hand moving to the heavy door handle, and with a confident shove, she swung it open. the sudden change in atmosphere was jarring, the ambient hum of the party hit you instantly. but the hallway wasn't empty. a small group of wrestlers, some of your friends, some acquaintances, had been hovering near the restroom entrance, clearly waiting for their turn or just trying to figure out why the hell rhea ripley had cleared the room.
the silence that fell over them was deafening as they saw the two of you, with your hair a disaster, your lips swollen and reddened, and rhea, looking entirely too satisfied with herself, her eyeliner slightly smudged and her expression radiating an aura of total, unbothered triumph. they turned bright red, eyes darting everywhere but at the two of you, clearly mortified by the realization of what had just been going on behind those doors.
rhea didn't even blink. she just shot them a lazy, lethal smirk, her shoulders giving a casual, unimpressed shrug.
"what?" she drawled, her voice loud enough to carry, dripping with that trademark, ironic charm, “you all look like you’ve seen a ghost. or are you just disappointed you missed the show?"
she didn't wait for them to sputter out an excuse. she reached out, her fingers locking firmly around your hand, and began to walk right past them, pulling you along in her wake.
you laughed, theming your head back before shaking your head at her. she was a menace but you wouldn’t had it any other way.
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