Iyos little run 😂
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Australia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
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seen from Maldives
seen from Canada
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Iyos little run 😂
The Setback.
Rating: Teen Pairing: Rhea Ripley/Iyo Sky CW: N/A Wordcount: 2.5k
Summary: Being away from Iyo is not Rhea’s favourite thing in the world. They’ve only got tonight, and then they’re back to being in different places. Damn her if she’ll waste it on a trip to the emergency room to get something checked out that’s probably just a little sprain.
AO3 Crosspost
Being away from Iyo is not Rhea’s favourite thing in the world to begin with. They both knew there would naturally come a time when they’d have to work apart - as much as Rhea would sometimes love to say to hell with it and ignore everything else, relegating herself to tag teaming with Iyo for the rest of time, that’s a moderately selfish thing to do. Okay, supremely selfish. Her girlfriend is the best in the world, and deserves to be able to chase down singles gold without feeling like doing so is stifling Rhea.
Not that she’d mind, but Iyo has her own thoughts about the kind of opportunities Rhea should be having. That impasse only left one option.
It hadn’t been pleasant, with far more days spent saying their good nights and good mornings through a phone than face to face. Wednesdays became an oasis for Rhea, every other moment a heat haze daze that felt more like a mirage by far than the feather-soft press of Iyo’s lips against hers did. Not long ago, only the ring felt concrete - everything, everyone else would come and go but it. Love was the fleeting falsehood.
Then Rhea feels a twinge, her weight not quite settling right when she places her foot down on the canvas. She turns to dodge an attack on yet another front, thinking of how Iyo’s going to be facing down her own 3-on-1 odds in a matter of days. The thought is met with an ache, as is the motion. It’s nothing - Iyo is watching from backstage. Rhea’s going to win this again for her. Stubbornly alone, just to prove that she can.
By the time it’s over, and she’s standing tall, her knee won’t fully straighten.
She masks the limp backstage, hoists her girlfriend up and ignores the physical pain in favour of emotional catharsis. They’ve only got tonight, and then they’re back to being in different places. Damn her if she’ll waste it on a trip to the emergency room to get something checked out that’s probably just a little sprain.
Iyo notices when she gets out of bed the following morning, weight buckling for just a second. “When did you hurt yourself?”
“I’m fine,” Rhea insists.
“Go get it looked at,” Iyo raises her voice for the first time since their relationship properly began.
There’s only an hour before they’re set to leave to different cities, and they spend all of it arguing. Rather than apologize or inconvenience everyone else, Rhea wraps herself knee up in a compression sleeve for the next couple of shows and hopes that’ll be it.
//
“It’ll heal on its own just fucking fine, Iyo.”
They’re arguing again. That’s all they do now that Rhea’s been pulled off the road to rehab her screwed up knee. She’s almost grateful for the start of every week to get a couple of days of peace away from the worrying.
Circumstances being what they are, the last thing Iyo should be concerned with is Rhea’s health. She has like, 80% movement. There’s lots she can do with no issue, walking isn’t bad in short spurts - Rhea can even run around a bit, and climb, juggle a soccer ball around. So what if she can’t plant that foot and extend her knee at the same time without screaming pain?
Nobody else is worried about how it’s progressing except for Iyo, who says things like, “MRIs can be wrong, Rhea. I do not think it is-”
“You’re not my doctor.” Rhea cuts her off. They’ve gone over this again and again. Iyo needs to give her some space, and go tape review against Liv fucking Morgan for both their sakes.
“I have had knee injuries before,” the Japanese woman circles back on the same point like she thinks reiterating her personal experiences will magically make Rhea’s situation worse than it is. “You keep hurting it more.”
She’s keeping herself limber and ring-ready, like she should. There’s a difference. “I am not getting surgery just because you think I should. Nobody agrees with you.”
That’s the crux of the issue. Iyo is convinced that Rhea is afraid of going under the needle, and she’s brushing things off and underreporting her symptoms because of it. Not true. Yes, Rhea’s never had surgery before, and yes, she’s opted against it in the past when advised that recovering without would be a 50-50 shot. And yes, she gets stressed out whenever any of her friends have to undergo emergency procedures for the various injuries that inevitably occur in their field of work. And finally, yes, she does lose her mind with overwhelming anxiety whenever she watches her girlfriend walk out to the ring by herself, knowing that the difference between safety and jeopardy is held in split-second decisions alone.
Rhea isn’t scared. She’s not allowed to be.
Iyo glares at her so intensely that it rips open a different poorly healed wound from ages past. The Australian’s heart squeezes up into her throat, unable to find a way to get her girlfriend to chase after opportunity without troubling herself over Rhea’s not-problem. It feels like she’s terribly close to getting that, but only through driving them apart for good.
“I love you,” Rhea murmurs, reaching for her. “Please don't worry about me. I don’t need it.”
The smaller woman folds into her instantaneously, standing as tall as she can so Rhea doesn't have to go through the mild pain of stooping to kiss her. The fight is done, Iyo's tongue swiping away any of the nagging thoughts in her head, at least for the time being.
//
Rhea’s not in good enough shape to travel to Minnesota, let alone provide any amount of backup to her girlfriend. Watching through the TV as the centre of her universe is defeated rips through Rhea savagely.
It’s Rhea’s fault. Iyo’s always been there for her, and now when she’s needed to return the favour, she’s stuck in their living room watching the Genius of the Sky, Queen of the Ring, Best There Is Regardless Of Gender - the woman she loves more than anything - get stepped on by the weakest woman she’s ever known.
Seeing Iyo cry is divine punishment for not listening to her. The surgery is scheduled for four days away, and maybe had she just gone for it in the first place, everything would be different.
But she’s a fool. They went on their own paths specifically so that they could have it all without either of them sacrificing for the other, and now they’ve both lost everything, precisely because of one another.
The problem is, Iyo won’t even yell at her anymore over it.
//
“We are cursed,” Rhea mumbles into her mountain of pillows. The painkillers are doing their thing, turning the whole of the world into a hazy mess. There's a lot of the past 24 hours she doesn't remember clearly - sometimes her eyes close on a blink and then she wakes some time later with Iyo's fingers still stroking through her hair.
Apparently they've had this conversation before, because Iyo sighs wearily and says, "Danhausen's curse is not real."
There's like, a mountain of evidence to disprove that. Before she can really think about why Iyo might not believe in such a thing, Rhea's bumbling on through a fog, "You won at Night of Champions, though."
Despite her eyelids being terribly heavy, she fights to keep looking at Iyo. The smaller woman is perched on the edge of their bed - Rhea doesn't remember them leaving the hospital - looking just as tired, and exasperated to boot. "I won because I am better than Liv." Her girlfriend says, tone brokering no room for disagreement.
Rhea realizes late that putting that victory down to a curse is a weird, backhanded insult, "I didn't mean-" and her eyes flutter, and won't open back up. "-you would've won any... fair fight..." She can feel Iyo dabbing a cool cloth against her forehead. The sensation is glorious. “...the best.” A moment later, her girlfriend is gently pecking at her cheeks and nose, and she's back to feeling floaty and weightless and unconcerned with what's happening outside their bubble.
"American drugs," the Japanese woman complains to the empty room, "are way too strong."
//
Once Rhea starts weaning off the pain meds, she comes to agree with Iyo's statement, though not to her benefit. Now it's not just her knee that hurts when she does specific things - everything feels swollen and angry at her. Her body is filled to the brim with knives and sandpaper and mosquito bite-like sensations.
Frankly, Rhea's thankful she didn't blow her knee out in Japan.
While sipping away at a cup of soup Iyo had prepared, she lets herself finally listen to the woman’s injury stories properly. Hers, and all the women she's worked with over the years. Hears about the maintenance they train on, and how the size and shape she keeps allows her body to be a bit more forgiving with her than it would be if she was six foot tall and heavily muscled.
Rhea's doing her best to be receptive, but she still flinches when Iyo brings out a set of kneepads and covers, patterned after her favourite sets of gear. They'd talked about this way long ago, and she'd weaseled her way out of using them with the excuse that she didn't tend to take any impacts to her knees, so was perfectly fine without. It was a stupid hill to die on then, and now, it's an I-told-you-so.
Iyo's been kind enough not to literally say it to her face, though her expression says it all.
"You might have that brace for a while." Her girlfriend reiterates what the doctors had. It all depends on their evaluations of her conditions in the coming days, and how physio goes. Not a shocker, she's worked a lot with Charlotte, seen Dakota and Tegan and many others with worse injuries than hers wearing their braces for years after being cleared. But she's also seen Iyo rebound from something similar to her injury in a matter of months, and look no worse for the wear on her return.
Point being, there's a lot up in the air, and Rhea's done being a shithead about it. "Yeah. Probably will." It's hard to admit to, even through her teeth. “Sorry I’ve been an idiot.”
"Not an idiot,” Iyo shakes her head, “I should have been nicer.” The prospect of her girlfriend somehow perceiving herself as mean to Rhea in any way is offensive, and they’re certainly going to have to circle back on this later on. For now, though, Rhea lets it go, since she’s tired of squabbling with Iyo about who loves one another more. It’s a stalemate.
Still, Rhea shakes her head to show she doesn’t agree, and lifts the soup to her mouth to finish draining now that it’s cooled to an ideal temperature.
Iyo looks at her with wry amusement, reaching forward with a napkin in hand to pat at the sides of Rhea’s mouth. “Messy,” she chides, moving to clear the dishes away.
By the time she returns, Rhea’s managed to push herself into a sitting position, legs dangling off the edge of the bed. While the thought of getting up over the past few days has sounded awful, sitting around is starting to be as well.
“Do you want to try walking around the house a little?" Iyo offers, already moving to assist.
Rhea slides her arm over Iyo's shoulder, and lets herself be hauled upright for the first time in a long while.
//
The injury is terrible for many reasons that Rhea could vent about for ages. So too is Iyo getting distracted from the destroy Liv Morgan objective. But, Rhea has to admit, she might kind of be glad it all happened. The timing was fucking awful, but it was always going to be, with how they've worked themselves to the bone for their careers, sacrificing body and mind in the process.
No longer does she have to eke by on a couple sparse hours of sleep, live out of a suitcase, and fight to maximize her time together with her girlfriend.
Now, they can sit in a park, giving Rhea's knee a bit of rest time before they complete the loop back to the car. The summer heat sinks down onto them, condensation wicks off of their water bottles. A whole gaggle of kids go running around the jungle gym, screaming and laughing and making Rhea's ears ring just a bit.
She leans back against the bench, turning to look at Iyo.
"What?" The smaller woman tilts her head, smiling. Her sunglasses sit low on the bridge of her nose, enough so that Rhea can peer over them to the deep, interested gaze below. They look almost maroon in the light, setting off the scarlet glow of Iyo's hair.
"You want kids, right?" She's never directly asked that before, though with the way Iyo interacts with children - specifically girls - it's hard not to imagine so. But just because she's great with them, doesn't mean she wants any of her own. Or, it could be just a question of when, and how, because Rhea knows her girlfriend is at the top of her field and she'll never want to step away from it.
"Are you offering?" The way she asks makes Rhea think back to how they'd discussed marriage. Not 'if' but 'when', the 'when' dictated by nothing concrete. It could happen a month from now or ten years, as unpredictable as the rest of their lives.
"Yeah," Rhea says, finding it easy to offer up casually.
Across from them, one of the kids starts trying to scurry up a tree, as unafraid of heights as Rhea imagines Iyo was as a child. It doesn't take long for an exasperated mother to jog up to the trunk, arms waving wildly. The kid doesn't budge. She laughs, seeing a bit of herself in that attitude. Iyo laughs alongside her, their shoulders brushing.
"Ok. Deal," her girlfriend agrees, watching in amusement as an older sibling walks up to the tree, climbs it, and bodily hauls the kid back down. Rhea remembers - Iyo's the pain-in-the-ass youngest sibling in her family, mirroring Rhea as the oldest. Despite that, their relationship feels the inverse, like Iyo's always the one looking out for her, while Rhea ensures they both have a bit of fun along the way.
Who knows what it'll look like when they settle into parental roles. It's a bit of a mindfuck.
The Japanese woman reaches over to interlock their hands. They sit and people watch for a while, until the sun starts to get too much for Iyo, who doesn't fare well when the heat isn't accompanied by a sea breeze. She stands to stretch her legs and shoulders out a little, twisting this way and that - reaching her arms up above her head to roll out her shoulders.
Rhea watches, catching the slight lift of her tanktop, exposing a strip of muscled abdomen, and wonders.
//
She has plenty of time now to do a bit of dreaming, and a bit of research.
𝑆𝑜 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑦 𝐼𝑦𝑜 𝑆𝑘𝑦 💛💚💛💚💛💚
😂
Iyo Sky Wallpaper!
Iyo Sky x Danhausen Wallpaper!
victory lap
Rating: Explicit Pairing: Rhea Ripley/Iyo Sky CW: N/A Wordcount: 2.1k
Summary: "Congratulations, champion," Iyo murmurs, kissing her softly. She curls her fingers under the hem of Rhea's trunks, tugging her closer to press their bodies together. "I knew you could do it.
"Not without you," Rhea says, low and a little throaty. "It's yours, too."
AO3 Crosspost
The stage is loud. Backstage even moreso, with the whole world coming and going - congratulations thrown at Rhea, a passerby offers to document the moment of victory with Iyo pressed up against her hip. There’s food to be scarfed down after hard work, drinks to toast. Everything bustles and froths. Tomorrow isn't even a thought on anyone's mind, not even when midnight comes and goes.
Collective celebrations are usually like that. Iyo's not too into it, even when it's her on the receiving end of the attention - perhaps especially. She waits it out, patiently flitting through the peripheries. She whittles away the hours by meeting with the friends that she rarely has the opportunity to see anymore, come to town for the festivities, and just as high off the spectacle as anyone who got to walk the stage. They have the stars in their eyes, thinking of a day that might be them. Iyo plays her part of the mentor, praising their work and offering encouragement, and she doesn't tell them the cost of it.
There's always a trade-off.
It's just past one when Rhea shoots her the text.
Headed back.
Simple and to the point. Iyo makes her excuses that aren't technically false - she does work tomorrow, even if she's not actually banking on getting much rest beforehand. She promises to grab a meal together before they all have to go their own ways back to opposite sides of the globe. And then she's climbing into a taxi back to the hotel, a hoodie and cargo pants and ball cap replacing the glitz.
She's beaten Rhea there, but only barely. By the time Iyo grabs a couple of bottles of water left to chill in the fridge and found where she's left the ibuprofen in case Rhea hasn't been tended to yet, the new champion's slipping in the door with her spare keycard.
Rhea's not bothered to fully change out of gear. She's thrown on a cover-up, but beyond that she's still carrying the trappings of the ring. The duffel bag slung over her shoulder gets dropped to the floor with a loud, metallic clatter, belt already forgotten about. That won't do.
"Come here."
Iyo has to stretch up to get to Rhea's shoulders, but the height difference is second nature by now. It doesn't take much for her to shrug the jacket off. Next comes unzipping the loose jeans, which fall easily past hips that are a hint bruised. She's still got tape around her wrist, the I-Y-O printed across it standing out proudly, black on white. The only thing from the ring that hasn't come with her is the makeup, wiped off somewhere between the arena and hotel. The faint freckles on the bridge of her nose, across her cheeks, make her look so much more her age. A world of opportunities still lay before Rhea.
"Congratulations, champion," Iyo murmurs, kissing her softly. She curls her fingers under the hem of Rhea's trunks, tugging her closer to press their bodies together. "I knew you could do it."
"Not without you," Rhea says, low and a little throaty. "It's yours, too." She tilts her head toward the bag on the ground, heavy with gold, but her gaze doesn't leave Iyo's. She runs her thumb over the swell of her lower lip, almost reverent. "Thank you."
"Anytime." Iyo's mouth is quick to catch Rhea's thumb before she can pull away, biting down on her nail and sucking it between her lips. Rhea's breath rattles out of her, worsened by the drag of Iyo's palms down her rear and to the backs of her thighs. "Sit for me?"
It's not a request, really. Iyo knows how to play her hand, and Rhea's pliant when she wants to be. The younger woman takes her time toeing out of her boots, and sinks onto the mattress, watching while Iyo slowly undresses herself, flitting through their things to find what she's after.
The strap's not new. While it's gone untouched for the last couple months, it's never left a discreet corner of Iyo's luggage. It's Rhea's weakness, the sight of it enough to make her thighs shift. She's a good, eager girl, easing down her trunks. Beneath, she's mostly bare, just torn fishnets left to cover her cunt. The glistening skin of her lips is visible, but even so, Iyo's going to make sure she's prepped and ready.
Iyo kneels in front of Rhea, stroking her cock for show while she admires the view. "Open." Rhea obliges, spreading herself for Iyo to see. Iyo purrs in approval, tracing the outline of Rhea's cunt with a fingertip. "So pretty."
Rhea bites her lip. "You don’t have to-"
"Relax, it’s okay," she assures her, easy and confident. The smaller woman dips down to brush her mouth along the inside of one of Rhea's thighs. "My pretty girl."
There's something incredibly satisfying about taking Rhea down a peg, even when she's won it all. The breath rattles out of the champion's chest in preparation as Iyo snags her fingers through the ragged mess of her fishnets, and rips. The fabric pops, Rhea's fingers curling into the sheets. Iyo gives them a second tug, and the rest shreds, leaving Rhea completely bare and vulnerable to her. Her skin's flushed, hot beneath Iyo's gaze.
The smaller woman leans in, her first lick slow and flat over Rhea's slit. Her tongue probes between Rhea’s lips, feeling her out. The noises that come out of Rhea are heavenly, soft and encouraging. "Oh, Iyo," she sighs, her hips rolling into her mouth.
Her hands splay across Rhea's thighs, holding her steady. Iyo doesn't mind taking time here, teasing her back open, tasting her, the salt of sweat and slick on her lips. Rhea's easy to work up, her hips jerking in response to every swipe of her tongue, each suck. She fights against Iyo trying to keep her pinned down, thrusting up against her girlfriend's face eagerly. When Iyo finally pulls back, her lips feel swollen and the tip of her nose is cold and wet.
"Fuck," Rhea whines, "You're so - oh -," she says, eyes wide and glistening as she takes in the look on Iyo's face. She's panting, her abs flexing as she tries to stay still. Her face colours. "I didn't mean to - sorry."
Iyo just smiles, licking at her lips to chase the taste. "I like it." She takes a step back, watching the shift in Rhea's expression as she steps towards the duffel Rhea had discarded so callously. From it, she fetches the belt - something they had once fought over viciously, now cradled in her hands like a precious gift. She brings it over to Rhea, who's sitting up to welcome her, not the gold she carries.
Not for the first time that night, Iyo fastens it around Rhea's waist. This time, though, there's no cameras or audience. She touches the gold, the bright metal a stark contrast against Rhea's pale skin, stones glittering and sharp. Then, Iyo takes up her post at the head of the bed.
"Does Mami want to be on top?" Iyo coos, Rhea rolling her eyes in answer. She's quick to climb over her girlfriend, though, straddling her hips.
"Don't start," Rhea warns. She takes Iyo's cock in hand, rubbing the head through her folds. "You know I hate it when you use that against me."
She doesn't mean it. It's a game between them, this push and pull.
Iyo's hands glide over Rhea's sides, finding her hips to encourage her descent. "My champion." She punctuates the title with a push up, Rhea sinking down onto her cock in one long, slow motion. The younger woman sighs breathily, nails digging into Iyo's stomach to help keep her balance.
With the title pressed between them, cold against Iyo’s heated skin, there’s no way to forget the work that’s been done to get here. One year to the next - privately, Iyo would’ve liked this herself, but she’s not jealous about her girlfriend’s success. Far from it. The discomfort mixes with bliss, and is all the more potent for it.
Rhea's quick to start moving. She thrusts her hips down, head tilting back. It takes Iyo a moment to get the hang of her rhythm, to help push up into her. Once she does, Rhea's eyes flutter shut, her lips parted. She looks nothing short of euphoric. This is what she deserves - to be worshipped, taking her pleasure as she sees fit. Iyo enjoys the sight of her, hair falling in waves around her bare shoulders, arms flexing with each jerk of her hips. Iyo’s chest swells with pride.
"You look so good riding me," Iyo tells her, reaching between them to rub Rhea's clit. The younger woman moans, movements growing a little more erratic.
"Iyo," Rhea rasps. She’s so incredibly attractive to Iyo: a vision of aching need, pace unrelenting until she manages to capture what she’s after. That is the essence of her, in many ways. Rhea’s a woman who feels everything fully, chasing her desires without shame.
Iyo could never fault her for that. They're alike in that sense.
"Perfect," Iyo continues praising, "So beautiful. Powerful." The title’s pressed tight between them, near to becoming a nuisance. A part of Iyo wants to rid Rhea of it, so she can feel the woman’s heartbeat against her chest. But she can suffer through for the sake of this moment in time. She strokes Rhea's clit with her thumb, and keeps thrusting up to meet Rhea's movements. Iyo wants her to feel every inch of the toy inside her. "Good girl.”
"Oh, fuck," Rhea groans. “Yeah, I am.” She grinds down in short, quick little loops, chasing the orgasm threatening to overtake her, legs shaking around Iyo's waist. To take a bit of the effort out of it - Rhea has spent the evening fighting, after all - Iyo leans forward, letting Rhea brace herself against her elbows instead.
"I love you so much," Iyo pants. Her stomach clenches, the heat in her belly spreading outward, sizzling every nerve ending.
There’s something incredibly psychological at play when it comes to fucking Rhea like this, regardless of any physical stimulation Iyo receives back. Her girlfriend is quaking, teetering on the edge, not because of some toy, but because it’s her on the other side of it, responding to every small change fluidly. Rhea arches her back; Iyo places her hand supportively under the small of it, holding her up where she needs to be when Iyo fully sheathes herself once more.
Rhea comes with a soft, punched-out cry, head thrown back in time with her body seizing. Iyo fucks her through it, rubbing her off until Rhea's dripping down the strap onto her lap. As soon as her palm lifts away from the other woman's cunt, Rhea topples sideways onto the bed with a groan.
"Holy shit." Her legs are splayed carelessly. The gold glistens prettily in the dim light. Glory suits her. The mop of dark waves framing her face only highlights that further, regal even in her mess. It’s as Rhea said. She was made for fighting.
"You deserve it," Iyo leans down to breathe against Rhea's mouth, gently enough to be lost if they weren't so close.
Bits of their hair, damp with sweat, stick to one another’s skin. Iyo kisses her girlfriend deep enough for their teeth to scrape, nips at her lip. The champion whines into her mouth, Iyo swallowing the sound greedily until her shoulders are pushed on, dislodging her from the quest to love Rhea more fully than anyone ever could.
“Love you too,” Rhea replies belatedly, the hazy blush across her cheeks not quite gone. There's a limpness to her, the tension of the night erased and overwritten with satisfaction.
They lie there together for a moment, breathing through the aftermath as two halves of a whole. Eventually, Iyo rises to strip off the torn remains of Rhea’s tights. She unbuckles the title belt, sliding it off of Rhea carefully. It gets settled gently onto the dresser - the strap following it in short order. They'll both need a wipe down later, but Iyo's got other priorities.
She hands her champion one of the water bottles she'd prepared earlier along with a handful of painkillers, well aware Rhea’s going to ache more in the morning because of her, not less.
"I've got to get you cleaned up," Iyo points out, her tone still fond, watching Rhea take slow, smooth sips. Her throat bobs deliciously, plastic crackling until the bottle's drained.
"In a minute," Rhea counters, putting the cap back on and tossing the empty into the trash nearby. Then she's pulling Iyo back into bed, more doting than a woman of her standing has any need to be. "I still have a partner I need to thank."
𝐵𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙 & 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑦 𝐼𝑦𝑜 𝑆𝑘𝑦 💚💙💚💙