Rianne Evans vs. Drake "Domino" Vyril

[Weonna]

As soon as she feels Domino shift—his hand snatchin’ for her head, body leanin’ forward—Rianne reacts in a blink.

THUMP!

Her elbow drives hard into the middle of his back again, right between the shoulder blades.

"Nah-uh, sunshine. You ain’t wrigglin’ out that easy."

With his momentum stalled, she lets go of the hammerlock, but keeps a firm grip on his wrist. In one swift motion, she twists out to the side, arm circlin’ like a whip as she yanks his limb outward and downward, forcing his posture low with a nasty arm wringer.

Spoiler

The crowd winces as she wrenches the hold, his shoulder and elbow stretched to their limits. Her grip is solid, knuckles white from the pressure, her smirk never fading.

[CyanDimitrik]

Finding an elbow thumping against his back earns a pained grunt from the model, and Domino tries to twist again - but he doesn't have long to languish in the position or dwell on it, as Rianne manipulates the arm over. Naturally, he pitches forward to try to compensate for the unnatural twist of the limb, jaw firmed and fire behind his eyes.

Feeling her work his arm, the burn through his muscles and joint, and hearing her taunt him, it's all enough to make him work extra hard to keep his wits together and not lash out. Thankfully, he's not at that point. Whatever else she may think of him, he spent years in this sport. It's meant something to him on a personal level. Just like the bars and slander he's endured not only from her, but from people like her. But that training screams from the back of his mind, muscles urging to action.

Domino doesn't fight against the twist. He leans into it. Tipping forward, free hand setting to the mat, he tumbles over in a smooth somersault and raises to his full height, physically unwinding the position while attempting to flow it into a seamless reversal of the wristlock.

"I don't want out. I want you."

[Weonna]

Rianne jerks Domino back upright, cutting off his reversal—then flashes a wicked grin.

"Oi! I said you ain’t gettin’ away, sweetheart!"

She twirls in place and smacks him hard across the face with a sharp backhand slap!

THWACK!

Before he can react, she flicks her leg up and delivers a front kick, more show than knockout blow, but enough to knock him back a step and make his abs contract in pain.

With a hop and a cheeky hair flip, she runs past him, hits the ropes, and rebounds toward him. As Domino begins to straighten—

—Rianne leaps up and nails him with a running single-leg front dropkick, catching him in the chest and sending him backward to the mat.

She lands with a roll and pops right up, throwing both arms up with a cocky little bounce, posing like she just won the whole match.

"Strike a pose, pretty boy! ‘Cause I’m about to ruin your shoot!"

The crowd erupts at the mix of attitude, agility, and disrespect.

[CyanDimitrik]

Insofar, it seems like Rianne's opening gambit is paying off for her in spades. Domino can't seem to get his footing and outwrestle her here, and it's aggravating him to no end. The backhand across the face only flares up that anger more, but with little recourse, he takes the boot to the chiseled midsection.

"Unf!"

He doubles forward, but only briefly, turning to try to catch her off-guard - only to take a boot to the chest. He hits the mat heavily on his back and turns over onto his side, coughing.

[Weonna]

Rianne doesn’t let up. As soon as Domino crashes onto his back, coughing from the dropkick, she’s already rising with a hair flip and a little bounce to her step. The crowd whistles and jeers, but she’s laser-focused, licking her lips as she spots her next opportunity.

"Aww, poor Dom... ya lookin’ a bit winded down there."


She saunters over, grabs a fistful of his hair, and gives it a sharp tug—just enough to get a groan and lift him halfway. With a wicked smirk, she drives a slap across the back of his head, then plants a boot in his chest, shoving him backward until he hits the bottom turnbuckle.

"That’s it, pretty boy, take a lil’ seat. Let’s get ya comfortable, yeah?"

With Domino now in a seated position against the corner, Rianne backs off with a theatrical strut—blowing a kiss to the fans on the way. Then she charges in looking to deliver a stiff running hip attack into his chest!

[CyanDimitrik]

She doesn't get a groan.

What Rianne receives is a strained growl as Domino starts to get his breath back. His head is pulled up, glowering at her with an amethyst fire. He just needs a moment to collect himself, going along with her for now. His head is slapped; not damaging, but assuredly annoying and digging her deeper into a karmic deficit as far as he's concerned. But the boot to the chest thumps him back into the turnbuckle with a grunt.

His hands lift to grab ahold of either middle rope at his sides, starting to pull himself out - only for Rianne to rush back in and slam into his chest hip-first, knocking the breath out of him and leaving him sagged in the corner.

[Weonna]

Rianne hears the air whoosh out of Domino as her hip slams into his chest, leaving him sagged in the corner like a crumpled magazine ad. She steps back, slow and deliberate, her hips swaying with each step. Then she pauses—just a few feet away from him—turning her head over her shoulder with a devilish grin.

The crowd knows what’s coming. Whistles and howls erupt as Rianne grips the top ropes on either side of the turnbuckle. With a sharp flick of her hair, she throws her hips back, pressing her perfectly sculpted backside flush against Domino’s face.

And then she starts to move.

Rianne begins to twerk, slow and deliberate, her glutes bouncing rhythmically as she grinds her rear into Domino’s face, smothering him in a wave of embarrassment! The lights shimmer across her oiled thighs as she rocks her hips left, right, up, down—showboating with every cheeky shake.

Signature Move: Stinkface

"Might not be the title ya wanted, love, but tonight—you’re officially my seat!"

The crowd erupts, half in laughter, half in disbelief, as Domino’s muffled resistance is buried under her taunting display. She gives one last bounce for good measure—pop!—before slowly peeling herself off him with a smug sway in her step.

Rianne saunters away from the corner, having left Domino dazed. She twirls at center ring with a mock pageant wave and a playful strut, soaking in the heat and whistles from the crowd.
Then—she turns, eyes locking back onto her target.

Rianne backs up, grabs the ropes, and climbs—one foot on the bottom, then up to the middle turnbuckle.
She turns to face the ring, standing tall above the model-wrestler.

"Come on then, Dommie,"

she purrs, flicking her blonde hair back.

"Up you get. Don’t keep a girl waitin’."

Her toned figure bounces slightly on the ropes as she steadies herself, raising both hands above her head—fingers curled, ready to bring down a diva’s justice. The crowd begins to stir, sensing what’s coming next.

She’s lining up the shot—a double axe handle. Waiting. Teasing. Measuring his recovery.

The second he gets to his feet?
She’s ready to leap off, arms raised, aiming to drive both fists down onto the top of his head!

[CyanDimitrik]

Domino doesn't have long to replay the match in his mind so far. Just that space between her walking away, and her thrusting her rear back against him. But he focuses on the cheap shot that took the momentum, and how she's played into it since. The never-ending snark she's given him from that beat onwards.

And then, there it is. Her butt at his face. "Mnf!" His head instinctively turns to try to avoid it. Of all the things, Domino is assuredly not an ass man. And while he may, at least on some level, appreciate that Rianne is a very attractive woman, this is the very last thing he wants. He sputters, hands raised to try to swat and push her backside away, ending ultimately with a final pop of her derriere.

"Blech.."

Domino gives his head a few shakes, as if trying to clear the haze. And when he's looking again, Rianne is climbing the ropes across from him. Piercing amethyst eyes narrow, and he grabs the middle ropes at either side, pulling himself back up to his feet. He takes a single step forward...

--Rianne lunges at him from her perch--

--And Domino surges forward to meet her pre-emptively, his right fist rocketing upwards to sink into the pit of her toned belly in passing!

[Weonna]

Rianne’s body folds midair as Domino’s fist slams straight into her exposed midsection.

"Hnnngh—!"

The force of the blow sucks the breath clean out of her, her sculpted abs clenching involuntarily as she crashes down hard in front of him. She drops to her knees, one arm instinctively wrapping around her gut while the other presses to the canvas for balance. Her chest heaves with shallow, staggered breaths as her head hangs low, blonde hair spilling over her face.

Her lips part in a low groan, her eyes wincing shut. That one landed deep—right where she wasn’t guarded.

"Bastard…"

she breathes under her breath in a raspy whisper, the smugness wiped clean off her face for the moment.

She tries to shift back to regroup, but every twitch of her core sends another pulse of pain radiating from her stomach, forcing her to remain down just a little longer than she’d like—exposed, vulnerable, and rattled.

[CyanDimitrik]

Most men would kill to have a chance to feel a tough girl's abs. Rianne certainly qualified. Sculpted physique, toned, chiseled, without losing her femininity. Domino could appreciate it in most contexts. But the pleasure he derives from making contact with that exquisitely bare stomach is from the feeling of it caving against his fist, of her muscles clenching against him. The satisfaction of knowing she had no defense prepared for it, that it drilled in nice and deep, after everything she'd put him through - it was sublime.

Now standing tall over her, Domino glowers down at her form doubled up on her knees, as if in supplication. But there'd be no mercy here tonight. There's a crack in the dam, and he means to take a sledgehammer to it.

Leaning down, his left hand wraps around her jaw while the right hooks behind her head, leading her forcefully to her boots again. And once she's standing before him, he repositions her right arm over his shoulder, with his hands setting to her hips to walk her quickly back into the turnbuckle she'd just lept from, pressing her back against the padding.

The hands swap to the middle ropes at either side of her waist, he draws back, and with a flex of the streamlined muscles throughout his arms and shoulders, he launches himself in again. The shoulder is aimed to drive hard into Rianne's stomach, battering the abdominals a second time. He draws back again, only to thrust in once more, hammering the shoulder into her gut.

The second time doesn't relent immediately. Instead, he leans into it, pulling on the ropes to grind his shoulder against her abdominals in what he hopes will be agonizing sustained pressure.