Do you write dark or only non dark just wondering what your type of style is for WWE fanfiction
While I do enjoy some amount of dark stuff, I don’t think I want to write it, at least not yet. I mean, I just started writing smut again after a very long time so I am not quite ready to write any dark stuff yet
Summary: She knew he would be angry. But she also knew how to deal with it.
Warnings: Smut, angry Drew, some jealousy
Rhea Ripley walked through the dimly lit corridor of the hotel, the soft click of her heels echoing off the walls. She knew Drew McIntyre was already back in their room, and the thought made her heart race. Tonight had been a night of mixed emotions. She had won her match, standing tall in the ring with Damian Priest, another man, by her side while Drew had suffered a frustrating loss against CM Punk. The tension was palpable even before she had left the arena, and she knew what awaited her in their hotel room.
She took a deep breath as she slid her key card into the lock, the door clicking open with a quiet thud. The room was dark, save for the soft glow of a lamp on the bedside table. Drew was sitting in an armchair near the window, his broad frame shadowed in the dim light. His eyes were fixed on her, dark and brooding, the anger and frustration from the night's events simmering just beneath the surface.
Rhea hesitated for a moment, but she knew better than to delay. Drew’s gaze followed her as she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. She could feel the weight of his stare, heavy and intense, as she crossed the room to where he sat.
“Drew…” she began, her voice soft, almost tentative.
He didn’t respond right away, his jaw clenched tightly as he looked her up and down. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough. “You won your match.”
It wasn’t a question, more of a statement, and Rhea nodded in response. “I did.”
“With another man,” he added, the words laced with a bitterness that made her wince.
Rhea knew this wasn’t really about her match. It was about his loss, the frustration of coming so close only to be beaten by Punk. Drew was a man who prided himself on his strength, his ability to dominate in the ring. Losing was a bitter pill to swallow, and tonight, it was especially bitter.
She took a step closer, her voice soft as she spoke. “Drew, I know you’re upset. It’s okay. I’m here.”
His eyes narrowed as he stood up from the chair, towering over her with his impressive height. He didn’t say anything, but she could see the anger in his eyes, the need to release it in some way. Rhea knew what was coming, and she accepted it. She didn’t mind; she understood that this was how Drew worked through his emotions, and she was more than willing to help him.
She reached out to touch his arm, but he caught her wrist, holding it firmly. The look in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine, a mixture of anger and desire that made her breath catch in her throat. Without a word, he began to undress her, his movements rough and urgent as he tore her clothes off.
Rhea didn’t resist, letting him strip her down until she stood naked before him. The cool air of the room brushed against her skin, but the heat between them was palpable. Drew’s hands were on her, gripping her hips and spinning her around to face the bed. He bent her over the edge, her hands bracing against the mattress as he positioned himself behind her.
She felt him thrust into her without warning, the suddenness of it making her gasp. His hands gripped her hips tightly, pulling her back against him with each rough movement. It was intense, primal, and exactly what she expected. She could feel the anger in each thrust, the way he used her body to work through his frustrations.
Rhea didn’t mind the roughness. In fact, it only heightened the sensation, making her feel alive and connected to him in a way that words couldn’t express. The pain mixed with pleasure, each sharp thrust sending waves of sensation through her body. She could feel the tension in his grip, the way his hands tightened on her hips as he lost himself in the rhythm.
He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back as he continued to thrust into her. The pull on her scalp was sharp, but it only added to the intensity of the moment. She could hear his breath coming in heavy pants, the sound of his frustration mixing with the pleasure he was taking from her.
Rhea let herself go, surrendering to the moment, letting him use her as he needed. She knew that this was what he required, a way to vent the anger and frustration that had been building up inside him since the match. And she was more than willing to be the outlet for that release.
As the minutes passed, she could feel the tension in his body start to ease, the roughness giving way to a more controlled rhythm. His hands on her hips became less desperate, the grip on her hair less harsh. She could sense the shift in him, the anger subsiding as he found his release.
Finally, with one last powerful thrust, Drew let out a low growl, his body shuddering as he climaxed. He held her tightly for a moment, his breath hot against her skin, before slowly releasing his grip on her.
Rhea stayed bent over the bed, her own breath coming in short gasps as she tried to steady herself. Drew’s hands slid from her hips, his touch gentler now, almost apologetic. He pulled her up and turned her to face him, his expression softening as he looked into her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret.
Rhea shook her head, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. “Don’t be. I knew you needed it, and I’m here for you. Always.”
He pulled her into his arms, holding her close as they stood in the quiet room. The anger and frustration that had filled the air earlier were gone, replaced by a deep sense of connection and understanding. They had worked through it together, as they always did.
Drew kissed the top of her head, his arms tightening around her. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
Rhea smiled against his chest, her heart swelling with love for the man holding her. “You do. And I’m not going anywhere.”
They stood there for a while longer, wrapped in each other’s arms, finding solace in the closeness they shared. It didn’t matter what happened in the ring or how the matches ended. In this moment, they had each other, and that was enough.
Just gimmie anything with rhea x Damian, rhea x Randy, Rhea x Drew, rhea x roman, rhea x Charlotte x Andrade fuck I’ll do rhea x edge and rhea x triple h as well
Summary: The adrenaline high is almost too much and they can’t keep their hands off each other. So what if they’re late to the press conference?
Warnings: Smut, just a lil bathroom quickie
The roar of the crowd was still echoing in their ears as Rhea Ripley and Damian Priest stormed down the corridor backstage at Bash in Berlin. The thrill of their victory over Liv Morgan and Dominik Mysterio pulsed through their veins, a heady mix of adrenaline and euphoria that had them both grinning like maniacs. The match had been intense, every move, every counter executed with precision, and now that it was over, the energy coursing through their bodies had nowhere to go.
Damian stole a glance at Rhea, his eyes darkening with something more than just the adrenaline. She was radiating power and confidence, her chest heaving as she caught her breath, a smirk still playing on her lips. There was something about seeing her like this—fresh off a victory, her muscles tense with exertion, sweat glistening on her skin—that made him want her even more.
Rhea caught the look in Damian’s eyes and felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew that look all too well. She felt it too, the pull, the magnetic attraction that had been simmering beneath the surface since they’d first stepped into the ring together. But now, it was almost unbearable. They had a press conference to get to, but the last thing on their minds was answering questions about the match. They needed each other, and they needed each other now.
Damian’s hand found Rhea’s, and without a word, they veered off the main hallway and ducked into a random bathroom. The door clicked shut behind them, and the sound of their rapid breathing filled the small, dimly lit space. Rhea was on him before the lock was even turned, her hands fisting in his braided hair as she pulled him down to her level. Their lips crashed together in a heated kiss, teeth and tongues clashing as they poured all the energy and pent-up frustration from the match into each other.
Damian’s hands roamed over Rhea’s body, feeling the strength in her arms, the curve of her waist, the muscles still taut from the match. He backed her up against the cold tile wall, and she gasped into his mouth, her fingers digging into his shoulders. They didn’t have time to be slow or gentle—not that either of them wanted that right now. This was about urgency, about feeding the fire that was burning them from the inside out.
“Press conference in ten minutes,” Rhea breathed out, but there was no real concern in her voice, just a playful challenge.
“That’s plenty of time,” Damian growled, his hands slipping down to grab her thighs. In one swift motion, he lifted her off the ground, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing herself against him. The feeling of being held by him, of being at his mercy, sent a rush of heat through her body.
They both fumbled with their gear, Damian’s fingers working quickly to free himself while Rhea shifted her hips to give him better access. The anticipation was killing them, but the moment he finally slid inside her, they both let out matching groans of relief and pleasure.
Damian didn’t waste any time, thrusting into her with a rough, unrelenting pace that had Rhea biting down on her lip to keep from crying out too loud. The bathroom walls weren’t exactly soundproof, and the last thing they needed was someone walking by and hearing them. But the risk only added to the excitement, the knowledge that they could be caught at any moment making everything feel even more intense.
Rhea clung to Damian, her nails digging into his back as he drove into her over and over, each thrust pushing her higher and higher. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her head falling back against the tile as she let herself get lost in the sensation. She could feel the tension building in her core, that familiar coil winding tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.
“Damian,” she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m close.”
“I know, baby, me too,” Damian replied, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. But the way Rhea was moving against him, the way her body was tightening around him, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.
With a few more powerful thrusts, he pushed them both over the edge. Rhea came first, her body shuddering against his as she bit down on his shoulder to stifle her cry. The feeling of her climaxing around him was enough to send Damian tumbling after her, his hips jerking as he buried himself deep inside her, his release hitting him like a tidal wave.
For a few moments, they just held each other, both of them breathing heavily, their hearts pounding in sync. The high from the match, combined with the intensity of what they’d just done, left them both feeling dizzy and euphoric.
Finally, Damian eased Rhea back down to the ground, his hands lingering on her hips as they both tried to catch their breath. Rhea looked up at him with a satisfied smirk, her hair slightly mussed, her cheeks flushed. Damian leaned down and kissed her again, this time slow and lingering, a promise of what was to come later when they had more time.
“Think we can make it to the press conference without anyone noticing?” Rhea asked, still a little breathless.
“We’ll just tell them we got a little lost on the way,” Damian said with a grin, reaching down to help her adjust her gear.
Rhea laughed softly, the sound full of mischief and satisfaction. “Let’s go, then. We’ve got a victory to celebrate—and then we can finish what we started back at the hotel.”
Damian’s eyes darkened with anticipation, and he nodded. “I’m looking forward to it, babe.”
They left the bathroom, slipping back into the chaos of backstage as if nothing had happened, but the knowing looks they exchanged said it all. The adrenaline of the match might have started the fire, but they both knew it wasn’t anywhere close to being extinguished. And once the press conference was over, they had all night to let that fire burn as hot as they wanted.
Summary: Roman knows exactly how to get Rhea where he wants her.
Warnings: Smut, Roman is kinda mean but kinda not, he’s just mr condescending tone and Rhea loves every second of it
Rhea Ripley had always been strong, fierce, and unyielding. She carried herself with a sense of authority and confidence that few could match. But there was one person who could strip away that armor, who could make her feel small in the most delicious way possible, and that person was Roman Reigns.
Roman was a man who exuded power with every breath he took. He was older, wiser, and commanded respect with just a look. And Rhea, for all her bravado, found herself drawn to him in a way she had never expected. He made her feel vulnerable, but in a way that was intoxicating rather than terrifying. It was like he had the key to a part of her she didn’t even know existed.
Tonight, they were alone in his home, the world outside forgotten as the night deepened around them. Rhea was bent over the armrest of the couch, her body trembling with anticipation as Roman’s large hands gripped her hips firmly, holding her in place. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made her skin tingle and her pulse quicken.
Roman was inside her, filling her completely, his movements slow and deliberate. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t giving her the frantic pace she craved. Instead, he was taking his time, savoring every inch of her, and it was driving her insane. Her breaths came out in short, needy gasps, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the cushion beneath her.
“Look at you,” Roman murmured in her ear, his voice low and dripping with that condescending tone that sent a shiver down her spine. “So eager, so desperate. You can’t even stay still, can you?”
Rhea whimpered in response, the knot in her lower belly tightening further. His words, the way he spoke to her, it did something to her that she couldn’t quite explain. It made her feel needy, like she couldn’t get enough of him, like she was completely at his mercy.
He chuckled softly, his breath hot against her ear. “You like it when I talk to you like this, don’t you?” He didn’t need an answer—he already knew. He could feel the way her body responded to him, the way her walls clenched around him every time he spoke in that tone.
Rhea nodded weakly, unable to find her voice. Her entire body was on fire, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure as he continued his slow, torturous pace. She tried to push back against him, to urge him to move faster, but he held her firmly in place, refusing to give her what she wanted.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Roman chided, his tone mocking. “Be a good girl and stay still. You know I’m in charge here.”
His words sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her, and she moaned softly, her body trembling with need. The knot in her belly was getting tighter, and she knew she was close, so close to the edge, but he wasn’t letting her fall over it just yet.
Roman leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “You’re doing so well, Rhea. Taking me so perfectly. But you’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you? Always wanting more.”
The praise, mixed with that condescending tone, made her head spin. It felt so dirty, so wrong, but it was exactly what she needed. Roman knew her better than anyone, knew exactly how to push her buttons, how to make her fall apart.
“Tell me how much you want it,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.
“I… I want it,” Rhea managed to gasp out, her voice trembling. “Please, Roman, I need it.”
“Need what?” he asked, his tone taunting as he increased his pace just slightly, enough to make her gasp but not enough to push her over the edge.
“I need you,” she cried out, desperation lacing her voice. “Please, Roman, I need you to…”
“To what?” he prompted, his voice dark and full of promise.
“To fuck me,” she finally choked out, her cheeks flushing with the admission.
Roman’s grip on her hips tightened, and he let out a low growl of approval. “Good girl.”
And then he gave her what she wanted, what she needed. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, each one hitting that perfect spot inside her. The condescending praise continued, each word pushing her closer and closer to the edge until she was teetering on the brink.
“Come for me, Rhea,” Roman whispered in her ear, his voice commanding. “Show me how much you love it when I make you feel this way.”
That was all it took. The knot in her belly finally unraveled, and Rhea cried out as she came undone, her body shaking with the intensity of it. Roman held her through it, his thrusts never faltering as he guided her through the waves of pleasure.
When she finally came down from her high, Roman slowed his pace, his hands gentler now as he stroked her back soothingly. He pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, a stark contrast to the roughness from moments before.
“You did so well,” he murmured, his voice no longer condescending but warm and full of affection.
Rhea smiled weakly, feeling utterly spent but completely satisfied. She loved the way Roman made her feel, loved the way he could make her lose control, make her forget everything but the way he made her feel.
And as she lay there, still wrapped in his arms, she knew she wouldn’t have it any other way.
A lesson || Drew McIntyre x Rhea Ripley x Damian Priest
Summary: Rhea gets taught a lesson.
Warnings: Smut, Drew and Damian tag teaming Rhea
Rhea Ripley was storming down the corridor of the arena, her mind set on finding Cathy Kelley. She had something to settle, something she couldn’t let go. Cathy had been giving her the runaround all week, and Rhea was done playing games. But just as she passed one of the locker rooms, a hand shot out of nowhere, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her inside.
She barely had time to register what was happening before she was pushed up against the wall, a familiar scent filling her senses. It was Drew McIntyre, his towering frame looming over her, his eyes dark with something that sent a thrill down her spine.
“Drew—what the hell?” Rhea started to protest, but her words were cut off as he pressed a finger to her lips, his eyes narrowing with intent.
“You’ve been teasing me all night, lass,” Drew’s voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that made Rhea’s breath hitch. “It’s about time I did something about it.”
Rhea’s heart raced, a mix of anticipation and excitement flooding her veins. This wasn’t the first time Drew had cornered her like this, and every time it happened, it sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. There was something about his roughness, his dominance, that she craved. And tonight, it seemed, he was done waiting.
Before she could respond, Drew’s hands were on her, pushing her down to her knees with a force that sent a shock of pleasure straight to her core. Rhea didn’t resist—didn’t want to resist. She loved the way he took control, the way he didn’t ask for permission, just took what he wanted.
She looked up at him from her knees, her eyes wide and eager, waiting for his next move. Drew’s gaze was locked on hers, a smirk playing on his lips as he undid his belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops sending a shiver down her spine. He didn’t waste any time, pulling down his pants just enough to free himself, his erection already hard and throbbing.
“Open,” he commanded, his voice a growl, and Rhea obeyed without hesitation, parting her lips as she looked up at him, waiting for him to fill her mouth.
The moment he did, Rhea felt a rush of heat between her legs, the sensation of his thick length sliding over her tongue making her moan around him. Drew’s hand tangled in her hair, guiding her movements as she took him deeper, the salty taste of him flooding her senses.
Rhea loved this—loved the way he made her feel so small, so powerless, yet so alive. She loved the way he used her, the way he didn’t hold back, thrusting into her mouth with a force that made her eyes water. But she didn’t care about that, didn’t care about the way her lipstick was smudged, or the way her mascara was running down her cheeks. All she cared about was pleasing him, about hearing the low, guttural moans that escaped his lips as she worked her mouth over him.
Drew’s grip on her hair tightened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate, and Rhea knew he was close. The thought of it, the thought of him losing control because of her, sent a wave of arousal through her, making her moan louder, her own need growing with every passing second.
But just as Drew was about to reach his peak, the door to the locker room creaked open, and a second figure stepped inside. Rhea’s heart skipped a beat as she recognized the newcomer—Damian Priest, his tall, lean frame silhouetted against the light from the corridor.
“What’s going on here?” Damian’s voice was low, amused, as he took in the scene before him, his eyes darkening with desire as they settled on Rhea, still on her knees, still with Drew in her mouth.
Rhea looked up at him, her lips still wrapped around Drew, her mascara smudged and running down her face. But instead of feeling embarrassed, she felt a thrill of excitement at being caught, at the way Damian was looking at her like he wanted to devour her.
“She needed an attitude adjustment, Priest,” Drew grunted, his hips still moving, though slower now, his eyes never leaving Rhea’s. “Thought I’d teach her a lesson.”
Damian’s lips curled into a wicked smile as he moved closer, his hand brushing over Rhea’s cheek, wiping away some of the smudged makeup with his thumb. “Is that so?” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down her spine. “Well then, maybe I should help.”
Rhea’s heart raced as she looked between the two men, her body thrumming with anticipation. She knew what was coming, knew that they were going to take her, use her, and the thought of it only made her wetter.
Damian’s hand moved to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he guided her off Drew’s length, tilting her head back to look up at him. “You want that, don’t you, Rhea?” he asked, his voice a low purr. “You want us to take care of you?”
Rhea nodded, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she looked up at him, her eyes wide with need. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Please.”
Damian’s smile widened as he leaned down to capture her lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth as Drew moved behind her, his hands sliding down her body to pull her up to her feet. Rhea felt like she was on fire, every nerve ending in her body alive with sensation as the two men surrounded her, their hands and lips everywhere at once.
They didn’t waste any time, stripping her of her clothes with a roughness that made her gasp, her body trembling with anticipation. Before she knew it, she was naked and vulnerable between them, their hands exploring every inch of her skin, their mouths leaving trails of fire wherever they touched.
Rhea didn’t know how much more she could take, the pleasure building inside her with every passing second, until it was almost too much to bear. But she didn’t want it to stop—she wanted more, needed more.
And they gave it to her. Drew’s lips found her neck, kissing and biting as he guided her back to the bench in the locker room, bending her over it with a force that made her gasp. Damian was in front of her, his hand on the back of her head, guiding her mouth back to him as Drew slid inside her from behind, filling her with a rough thrust that made her cry out.
It was overwhelming, the sensation of being filled from both ends, of being taken by both men at once. But it was exactly what she needed, exactly what she craved. She moaned around Damian, her hands gripping his hips as Drew pounded into her from behind, each thrust sending her closer to the edge.
The sounds of their moans filled the locker room, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex as they moved together, their bodies in perfect sync. Rhea’s world narrowed down to the sensation of them, of the pleasure building inside her, until it was all she could focus on, all she could think about.
When she finally came, it was like an explosion, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm, her cries muffled by Damian’s length in her mouth. Drew followed soon after, his own release flooding inside her as Damian pulled her off of him, his own release spilling onto her chest.
They were spent, panting for breath as they collapsed onto the bench, their bodies tangled together in a mess of limbs and sweat. Rhea felt like she was floating, her body sated and exhausted, her mind blissfully empty.
As she lay there between them, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath, Rhea couldn’t help but smile. This was exactly what she needed, exactly what she wanted. And as the three of them drifted off into a contented silence, she knew one thing for certain: she wouldn’t be finding Cathy tonight, but she didn’t care. This was more than enough.
The night before || Rhea Ripley x Charlotte Flair x Andrade el Idolo
Summary: Rhea wakes up in an unfamiliar bed. Memories from the night before come flooding back into her mind.
Rhea Ripley woke up slowly, her mind drifting from the depths of a heavy, dreamless sleep. As consciousness began to return, the first thing she registered was warmth—soft, enveloping warmth that cocooned her on all sides. Her body felt heavy and languid, every muscle relaxed in a way that felt unfamiliar. For a moment, she kept her eyes closed, savoring the sensation of being completely at ease.
But then awareness crept in, and Rhea realized something wasn’t quite right. The bed beneath her felt different—bigger, softer, the sheets more luxurious than anything she owned. The air smelled different, too, a mix of something expensive and musky, not the familiar scent of her own space. Confusion flickered in her mind, and she slowly cracked open her eyes, blinking against the soft light filtering into the room.
That’s when she noticed the arms wrapped around her.
On one side, a strong, muscular arm draped across her waist, holding her close. She could feel the steady rise and fall of a chest against her back, warm breath tickling the nape of her neck. On the other side, another arm was curled gently over her shoulder, fingers brushing against her collarbone, as if the person was reaching for her even in sleep.
It took a moment for the reality of her situation to sink in. Rhea’s heart skipped a beat as she realized she wasn’t alone in bed. Slowly, she turned her head to the side, her breath catching when she saw who was beside her.
Charlotte Flair lay there, her golden hair splayed out across the pillow like a halo, her face relaxed and peaceful in sleep. Rhea’s eyes widened as she took in the sight, her mind struggling to piece together how she had ended up here. Charlotte’s arm was the one draped over her shoulder, the touch light but possessive, even in sleep.
Rhea’s gaze flicked to the other side, and her stomach flipped when she saw Andrade El Idolo. He was pressed up against her back, his arm still securely wrapped around her waist. His face was turned towards her, dark hair tousled, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as if he were dreaming of something pleasant.
Panic flickered at the edges of Rhea’s consciousness, but then the memories of the night before came rushing back, each one more vivid than the last.
She remembered the way Charlotte had looked at her across the room, eyes dark and intense with something more than just friendship. There had been tension in the air, an electric current that buzzed between them, pulling them together. She remembered the way Andrade had watched them both, his gaze lingering on her with an intensity that had made her shiver.
There had been drinks, conversation that flowed easily, laughter that felt like music. But underneath it all, there had been something else—something that had simmered and bubbled just below the surface, waiting for the right moment to break free.
And then it had.
Charlotte’s hands had been the first to touch her, sliding across Rhea’s skin with a confidence that sent a thrill through her. Rhea remembered the way Charlotte’s lips had tasted, the sweetness of the wine still lingering on her tongue as they kissed. It had been slow at first, exploratory, but then the heat had built between them, and they couldn’t get enough.
Andrade had joined them, his hands warm and sure as they roamed over her body. Rhea could still feel the ghost of his touch on her skin, the way his lips had burned a trail down her neck, making her shiver with anticipation. The three of them had moved together, bodies pressing close, the air thick with the scent of desire and something else—something more profound.
It had been a blur of sensations after that—sheets tangled around their legs, breathless laughter, moans that echoed in the room, and the feeling of being completely consumed by both of them. Rhea had been caught in the middle, their touches overwhelming her, making her feel things she hadn’t even known she could feel.
And now, here she was, waking up between them, her body still tingling from the aftershocks of the night before.
Rhea took a deep breath, trying to steady the pounding of her heart. She wasn’t sure what to do, wasn’t sure what this meant. But as she lay there, sandwiched between Charlotte and Andrade, a strange sense of peace settled over her. Despite the unfamiliarity of the situation, it felt… right. Like this was exactly where she was supposed to be.
As if sensing her thoughts, Charlotte stirred beside her, her eyes fluttering open. She smiled when she saw Rhea, a soft, almost lazy smile that made Rhea’s breath catch in her throat.
“Morning,” Charlotte murmured, her voice husky with sleep. She didn’t move to pull away, didn’t act as if anything was out of the ordinary.
Rhea swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Morning,” she managed to reply, her voice barely above a whisper.
On the other side, Andrade shifted, his arm tightening around Rhea’s waist as he woke up. He blinked a few times, then smiled when he saw her, a slow, easy smile that made Rhea’s heart flutter.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, his voice smooth and warm, the sound of it wrapping around her like a blanket.
Rhea nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She could feel her cheeks heating up, the reality of the situation starting to sink in. But neither Charlotte nor Andrade seemed fazed by it. If anything, they looked content, like this was the most natural thing in the world.
Rhea let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Maybe this was something she could get used to. Maybe, just maybe, waking up in the middle of this bed, between these two people, was exactly where she was meant to be.
Summary: Roman has planned the perfect date night. Unfortunately, he and Rhea don’t even make it through dinner before they’re upstairs in the bedroom, Rhea’s dress long forgotten, discarded at the top of the stairs.
Rhea Ripley and Roman Reigns had planned the perfect date night at home. It wasn’t often that their schedules aligned enough for them to enjoy an evening together without the pressures of their hectic lives. Tonight, they were determined to make the most of it.
Roman had spent the better part of the afternoon preparing dinner, wanting everything to be perfect for Rhea. He knew how much she loved the simple, intimate moments they could steal away from the chaos of their lives. So, he had gone all out—cooking her favorite meal, setting the table with candles, and making sure the house was in order.
Rhea, for her part, had decided to dress up for the occasion. She had picked out a sleek black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, paired it with her favorite heels, and even did her makeup—something she didn’t always bother with when it was just the two of them at home. But tonight felt special, and she wanted to make an effort.
When she walked into the dining room, Roman was just finishing up, setting the last of the dishes on the table. He looked up as she entered, and his eyes darkened with appreciation as he took in her appearance.
“Wow,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You look incredible.”
Rhea felt a warm flush creep up her neck at his words. She wasn’t used to feeling shy, but Roman had a way of making her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world with just one look.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she replied, her voice teasing but with a soft edge.
Roman had dressed up too, wearing a button-down shirt that fit him perfectly, highlighting his broad shoulders and strong arms. Rhea couldn’t help but admire how handsome he looked, the image of strength and confidence.
They sat down at the table, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow over the room. Roman reached across the table to take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he looked into her eyes.
“I’m glad we could do this,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “It feels like it’s been forever since we had a night to ourselves.”
Rhea smiled, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Me too. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
They started to eat, but it wasn’t long before the conversation and the connection between them began to take over. Rhea found herself laughing at one of Roman’s jokes, and when she leaned over to playfully swat his arm, he caught her wrist and pulled her closer.
The next thing she knew, his lips were on hers, and everything else faded away. The taste of wine still lingered on his lips, and the warmth of his breath sent shivers down her spine. Rhea responded instinctively, her fingers threading through his hair as she deepened the kiss.
Roman’s hand slid down to her waist, pulling her out of her chair and onto his lap. The kiss grew more intense, more urgent, and all thoughts of dinner were forgotten as they lost themselves in each other.
Rhea could feel Roman’s heart beating rapidly against her chest, mirroring her own racing pulse. The electricity between them was undeniable, and it wasn’t long before they both knew where this was heading.
Roman broke the kiss just long enough to stand up, lifting Rhea effortlessly in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and they made their way upstairs, their lips never straying far from each other’s.
By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Rhea’s dress was already half undone, the fabric slipping off her shoulders. It hit the floor with a soft thud, completely forgotten as Roman carried her into the bedroom.
The rest of the evening was a blur of passion and heat, the kind that left them both breathless and completely intertwined in each other’s embrace. The world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the way Roman made Rhea feel—cherished, desired, and completely consumed by his love.
Hours later, they lay tangled together in bed, the remnants of their earlier meal long forgotten downstairs. Rhea rested her head on Roman’s chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over his skin as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“I guess we got a little distracted,” Roman murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice as he looked down at her.
Rhea chuckled softly, lifting her head to meet his gaze. “Just a little. But I’m not complaining.”
Roman’s hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lips in a tender gesture. “Me neither,” he said, his voice soft and filled with affection.
They stayed like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of their love, content in the silence that spoke volumes about the connection they shared. Eventually, Roman shifted slightly, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to Rhea’s forehead.
“Stay here,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “I’ll go get us some food.”
Rhea nodded, watching as Roman slipped out of bed and disappeared down the stairs. She curled up under the covers, feeling a sense of peace and contentment wash over her.
When Roman returned with a tray of food, they sat together in bed, sharing the meal in comfortable silence. There was something intimate, something incredibly special about the way they could be so close, so connected, without needing words to express what they felt.
As the night wore on and the candles flickered out downstairs, Rhea knew that this was exactly where she was meant to be—wrapped up in Roman’s arms, loved and cherished in a way that made her feel like the luckiest woman in the world.
