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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 4 days ago

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Look Back At It — Jey Uso x Randy Orton.

🔞 CW: power imbalance, rough sex, spit play, mirror kink, face-fucking, throat training, overstimulation, edging, verbal degradation, forced submission, no aftercare, implied round two incoming 🪞💦🖤

SET AFTER WARGAMES 2023.

Survivor Series 2023

11:31 PM | Allstate Arena, Chicago

The locker room was mostly cleared out and it was just the sounds of the showers, the occasional clang of a duffel and the silence of bodies cooled down after WarGames.

Jey stood in the doorway, still in his gear, shirt clinging to sweat-damp skin. He hadn’t even peeled the tape off his wrists.

Randy sat at his bench like he hadn’t moved in hours. Head down. Wrists on knees. His return match had just ended, and he looked like he was made of smoke and vengeance.

“Yo,” Jey said, voice low.

Randy didn’t look up.

“I just wanted to say… I’m sorry.”

Silence.

Jey shifted on his feet. “For what I did. For what I was part of.”

Still nothing.

Jey exhaled. “You ain’t gotta forgive me. I just wanted you to know I mean it.”

Randy finally stood, slow and dangerous, like a riptide rising.

He looked at Jey. Long. Unblinking.

Then:

“Meet me at my room. Park Hyatt, suite 1912.”

Jey froze.

Randy stepped past him, not touching, not lingering. Just dropping his voice enough to for Jey to hear:

“If you really wanna make it right… show me.”

1:03 AM

The door was already unlocked when Jey approached, he pushed the door in and entered. No words. Just low lights, a king bed and Randy by the window in a black tank, whiskey in hand, like he’d been waiting to settle a score.

“You came.”

Jey nodded. “Yeah.”

“Lock the door.”

Click.

“Strip.”

“What?”

Randy turned fully now, eyes dark and predatory like the aura of a true Viper. “Now.”

Jey’s throat bobbed.

“I thought you wanted to apologize.”

“I..I do.”

“Then be a Good boy and show me you mean it.”

The command layered into the words like so beautifully. Jey’s instincts clashed with his guilt, with his shame, with the pulsing drive underneath it all.

He began to undress.

Randy watched like a snake watching prey walk willingly into it’s trap.

“On your knees, Uso. That’s where your redemption starts.”

Jey knelt.

And as he continued to kneel, the carpet started to burn at his knees, but he stayed. Randy hadn’t told him to move just yet.

The Viper finished his drink in one long sip, watching Jey with a look that wasn’t anger but it was something colder. Measured. Like he’d already decided how this night would end.

“You know why you stripped?” Randy asked, finally setting the glass down.

Jey swallowed hard. “No.”

“Yes, you do. You wanted to be seen. Like this. No title. No faction. No big dog guarding your back. Just a slut with a dirty mouth and something to prove.”

Jey’s breathing was shallow. However.. he felt that small feeling of arousal.

“Open your mouth,” Randy said.

Jey did. Quietly. No protest.

Randy stepped closer. Not touching. Jey picked up the way he smelled of oakwood and dominance and slick steel. He grabbed Jey’s jaw, thumb pressing hard against the hinge.

“Wider.”

Jey opened more. His tongue barely moved.

“Don’t speak unless I tell you. Don’t close it until I say. You’re just a mouth right now. That’s what you’re offering me, isn’t it?”

Jey nodded once, eyes locked up on him.

Randy leaned in close. So close Jey could feel his breath along the wetness of his tongue.

“I heard from Cody that you love being put in your place?”

A whine caught in Jey’s throat.

Randy gave a dark laugh. “Good.. because who originally put Cody in his place all those years ago… will now put you in yours the right way.”

He ran two fingers along Jey’s bottom lip, slow. He didn’t press in. Not yet. Just traced, until saliva began to drip down Jey’s chin.

“Look at you,” Randy said, almost pity like. “Can’t even keep it in your mouth.”

Jey flushed, but didn’t move.

Randy crouched, one knee bent beside Jey, the other foot flat on the floor. He stared at him like an experiment. Like a dog he was trying to train.

Then, finally… fucking finally…he slid his thumb across Jey’s tongue. Firm. Testing. Feeling the urge of that mouth.

“Clean it,” Randy ordered.

Jey sucked.

Slowly. Like he’d done this before. Like he remembered how.

“Good,” Randy murmured. “Let’s see if you’re still as good with your tongue as you were with your fists.”

He pulled the thumb free with a pop. Then dragged it down Jey’s jawline, wet with spit. His hand tilted Jey’s face up.

“You want forgiveness?” Randy asked.

Jey didn’t speak.

Randy’s fingers slipped down, pressing at the corners of Jey’s lips again.

“Then worship.”

Jey’s lips were still parted when Randy stood.

He undid his belt in one smooth, practiced motion with the silver buckle clinking, zipper slow enough to be cruel. Jey’s eyes dropped, then lifted again, waiting for the command. He didn’t dare move on his own.

“You ever sucked a cock like this before?” Randy asked, voice steady.

Jey shook his head.

“Good. I want it to hurt a little.”

He gripped the back of Jey’s head, firm and final, and tapped the tip of his cock against Jey’s tongue. Just a tease. Just a taste. Jey moaned before he even tasted him.

“Quiet,” Randy warned. “You’re not here to make noise. You’re here to make me come.”

Jey closed his eyes as Randy pushed his cock in. No buildup. No mercy. Just length and heat filling his mouth until his jaw ached.

Randy didn’t thrust. Not yet. He just held there, one hand tightening at Jey’s scalp.

“Breathe through your nose,” he muttered. “Relax your throat. Don’t gag until I let you.”

Jey tried.

But his throat betrayed him. A choked noise hitched up as Randy pushed in a little farther.

“Shhhh… just take it,” Randy said darkly and Jey tried to do what he was told again… this time, he succeeded. “Good boy.”

He started moving brutally, pulling out with a wet drag, then forcing back in deeper, until the sound of Jey’s throat tightening filled the room. Gag. Gasp. Swallow. Over and over.

Randy’s fingers dug into Jey’s hair for leverage. Not to guide but to own.

“Look at me.”

Jey’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and red. Randy tilted his head just enough to watch the way Jey hollowed his cheeks, how the veins on his neck tensed as he fought the urge to pull back.

“You took a year and a half from me,” Randy said, voice low and cold. “Now I’m taking your dignity.”

Jey’s hands clenched on his thighs.

Gag. Gag. Spit trailed from his lips down his chest. His nose was running now, breath choked into small huffs. Randy didn’t let up.

“You like it?” Randy hissed. “You like choking on my cock like this?”

Jey moaned around him but couldn’t help it. His moan had vibrated all the way up Randy’s spine.

“Fuck, that’s what I thought.”

Randy shoved in deeper this time. All the way. Jey choked hard, body trembling. He started to pull back on instinct but Randy grabbed his jaw and held.

“Take it. Take it like a Good boy.”

Jey’s throat spasmed. His knees shook. He obeyed.

Randy groaned, head falling back. He held Jey was for a second and when he finally pulled, Jey was panting, his spit webbed between his lips and chin.

“I should paint your pretty face with my cum,” Randy growled, breath hitching. “But I got a better place where I could put my cum.”

He pulled Jey up by the back of the neck, mouth smashed against his, tongue invading the same space Jey just swallowed him with.

“Get on the bed.”

Jey stumbled back, throat now sore, lips glistening. He turned without a word and climbed onto the mattress and got into that position: hands braced, knees spread, head down. The kind of position that said make me yours.

Randy let him stay there, just watching. Taking in the beautiful tattoos on the younger Uso twin’s back, the muscle twitching beneath golden-brown skin. The tremble in Jey’s thighs wasn’t fear.

It was need.

“You don’t even know what you’re begging for,” Randy muttered, peeling off his tank, walking slow to the edge of the bed. “But I’m gonna show you.”

He climbed up behind him and kneeled and he dragged two fingers down the curve of Jey’s spine.

“So tell me Jey..” he murmured. “You ever been fucked by a man like me?”

Jey said nothing. He just pushed his hips back slightly.

“Answer me.”

“No,” Jey rasped. “Never.”

Randy’s hand ghosted over the cleft of his ass. “You know what I do to sluts like you”

Jey clenched his jaw. “Make them yours.”

A smirk touched Randy’s mouth. “Damn right.”

He reached into the nightstand. Clicked the top off a bottle. The scent of lube filled the air with its strawberry smell, with a hint of heat-reactive kiwi. Randy poured it slowly, right over the curve of Jey’s ass, watching it drip between the cheeks, coating the untouched skin. Jey shivered violently.

“Keep still.”

The first press of a finger wasn’t gentle.

Randy didn’t force it but he didn’t coddle Jey either. He pushed in, feeling the way Jey’s body clenched on instinct.

“Breathe.”

Jey sucked in a shaky breath as Randy moved the finger in a slow circle. No rush. No rhythm. Just deep, unrelenting pressure.

“You’re tight as fuck.”

He added another finger. Jey’s hips jerked.

“Stay down,” Randy snapped, hand landing hard on the small of Jey’s back.

“R-Randy—”

“What did I say about speaking?”

Jey bit his lip and stayed quiet.

“Good boy,” Randy breathed. “Now relax for me. Let me open you up right. Let me take my time.”

The two fingers curled, stretching him with wet drags. Randy leaned forward, breathing against the back of Jey’s neck.

“You’re gonna take my cock tonight.”

A soft whimper broke from Jey’s chest.

“You’re gonna get fucked so hard you will forget who you are. And you’re gonna thank me for every second.”

He scissored the fingers and pushed deeper.

Jey was moaning now. Quiet but wanton.

Randy added a third.

Jey broke. Arms buckling, chest against the bed, hips lifted high as he tried to breathe through the burn and stretch.

“That’s it,” Randy murmured. “You’re opening up nice.”

The sound was obscenely hot.

Randy pulled his fingers out slowly, just to watch the mess.

“Look at that,” he said, almost admiring. “Didn’t know little Jey could get this wet for me.”

He stroked himself once. Twice. His cock was veiny and girthy, slicked from Jey’s mouth and the lube now coating his fingers.

“You ready?”

“Yes,” Jey whispered. “Please, Randy…”

Randy didn’t move yet. He leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of Jey’s ear.

“You take my cock all the way,” he said. “You take it like you’re begging me to forgive you.”

Randy pushed inside slowly, but only for the first inch and just long enough for Jey to feel the stretch before the Viper’s hips snapped forward, sheathing him nearly to the hilt in a single, punishing stroke.

Jey’s breath punched out in a ragged groan, hands fisting the sheets. The burn was sharp, delicious, radiating up his spine.

“Stay right there,” Randy growled. He didn’t give Jey time to adjust; he withdrew halfway and drove back in, hard enough the mattress jolted under Jey’s knees.

A harsh slap of skin.

Another.

Again.

Each thrust was brutal as Randy wasn’t chasing rhythm so much as staking territory. Filling every inch, forcing Jey to feel exactly what he’d surrendered.

“Feel that?” Randy hissed, fingers digging bruises into Jey’s hips. “That’s what you took away when you shelved me. Now you take me.”

Jey tried to nod, but the next slam of Randy’s hips knocked the gesture into a broken moan. Spit streaked the sheets beneath his cheek; his cock went untouched, leaking against his stomach with every rock forward.

Randy adjusted his angle, scooping an arm around Jey’s waist, hauling him back so Jey arched helplessly off the bed. The new position let Randy grind deep while giving Jey this drunk-like feeling of pleasure, the head of his cock rubbing that spot inside that made Jey’s breath stutter.

“Feel good?” Randy murmured, cocky. He bit down at the juncture of Jey’s shoulder, not breaking skin but close.

“Y-yeah—fuck—” Jey gasped.

“Thought so.” Randy bit harder, then licked the sting, thrusting in short, brutal pulses that never quite let Jey’s body relax. Just on the edge of too much… which is exactly where Randy wanted him.

Jey’s hands scrabbled, desperate for something to hold. The pleasure and stretch was so filling that Jey let out a loud moan.

“Quiet,” Randy snapped when that moan slipped out. “You said you’d be a Good boy.”

Jey swallowed his next sound, body trembling as sweat stuck to his skin.

Randy’s free hand slid around Jey’s throat, not squeezing but a promise. “You’re gonna remember this every time you breathe tomorrow.”

He punctuated the words with three savage thrusts, each one shoving Jey forward an inch, each one dragging a choked whine from his chest.

Then Randy stopped, buried to the root, hips flushed and he held there. The ache of fullness forced a tremor through Jey’s thighs.

“You want more?” Randy asked softly, thumb stroking the pulse racing under Jey’s jaw.

Jey couldn’t form the word, so he nodded, quickly and tiny, very desperate.

“Good.” Randy eased out, achingly slow… then slammed back in, viciously precise, setting a punishing rhythm that never settled into comfort. Just relentless pressure that was driving Jey to that trembling cliff without letting him fall.

Minutes bled, sweat pooled, the headboard hammered the wall in a steady beat. Jey’s vision blurred, every nerve coiled tight, but Randy’s rhythm never faltered; never merciful, never finishing.

And just when Jey’s body was shaking hard enough the bedframe squealed, Randy stopped dead again, cock still buried, breath hot against Jey’s ear.

“Not yet,” he whispered. “Forgiveness is earned, not given.”

Randy pulled out torturous-like and smacked Jey’s ass, a crack that echoed off hotel walls. His slap still burned fresh when he yanked Jey’s arm, flipping him onto his back like Jey weighed nothing.

“Hands up,” he growled.

Jey laced his fingers behind his head, elbows wide, chest rising in quick, ragged breaths. His cock stood hard, flushed dark, beads of sweat rolling down the shaft… completely, utterly untouched.

Randy climbed off the bed only long enough to drag something several inches sideways, revealing the full-length mirror mounted on the closet door. He angled the lamp so harsh white light splashed across glass and flesh alike.

“Eyes forward,” he ordered, climbing back onto the mattress and straddling Jey’s thighs. “You watch every damn second.”

Jey’s gaze locked on their reflection: Randy looming, tattoos vivid, sweat gleaming down the cut of his chest; Jey spread out beneath him, mouth kiss-swollen, thighs trembling.

Randy spit into his palm, wet himself again, then reached back and lined up, pressing in slow just to the head. Jey’s hips pitched up, desperate for friction.

A vicious smile curled Randy’s lips. “So needy. Thought Samoans were supposed to have control.”

He slammed down.

Jey’s moan hit the mirror; loud, guttural, breaking on the glass. Randy didn’t give him time to breathe; he braced one hand on Jey’s throat for leverage and started riding, brutal, shallow thrusts that ground bone against mattress springs.

“Look at yourself,” Randy hissed, tightening his grip just enough to make Jey’s pulse throb under his fingers. “See what an apology looks like.”

Jey couldn’t look away at all, he couldn’t miss the way Randy’s cock disappeared inside him over and over, the dark stretch, the wet shine each time Randy dragged out and slammed home. Sweat continued to slither between Jey’s pecs, pooling in the hollow of his throat where Randy’s thumb rested, claiming every labored breath.

Randy shifted higher, hooking Jey’s knees over his broad shoulders. The new angle bent Jey almost in half, spreading him wide.. the mirror now showing everything: Randy’s hips pistoning, Jey’s hole swallowing him greedily.

“Fuck—there it is,” Randy snarled, driving deeper until the slap of skin turned wet. Each thrust punched a hoarse sound from Jey’s lungs, the bed rocking hard enough the headboard rattled.

“You feel that spot?” Randy taunted, snapping his hips just right so pleasure spiked inside Jey’s gut. “That’s mine. Every nerve, every shake—MINE.”

Jey’s hands flexed behind his head, knuckles white.. but despite this he never broke eye contact with the mirror, watching himself unravel.

Randy leaned forward, folding Jey tighter, until their chests were almost flush. The new compression made every thrust grind fire over that spot; Jey’s vision blurred, mouth open in a silent cry.

“Close?” Randy breathed against his lips, not slowing.

A tiny whimper meaning ‘Yes sir’.

Randy’s hand shot between them, wrapping around Jey’s cock for the first time all night and then stopping, thumb poised but not stroking.

Jey bucked, a broken noise clawing out of his throat.

“You earn the finish,” Randy growled. “Beg.”

Jey panted, eyes glassy, humiliation and want tangled tight. “Please… need it… Randy—”

“Louder.”

“Please! Let me cum—need it so bad—”

Randy’s thumb swiped the leaking tip once, just enough to make Jey’s whole body convulse with aching pleasure and then he let go, slamming into him so hard the mattress bounced.

“Not yet,” he hissed. “One more punishment first.”

He wrenched out suddenly, leaving Jey gaping and empty, lube and spit running down the crease of his ass. Randy slid down, yanked Jey’s hips to the very edge of the bed, feet hitting the floor. Now Jey was half-off again, legs trembling open, mirror still forcing him to watch.

Randy lined up again, hands gripping Jey’s thighs like vise clamps.

“Keep those hands behind your head and watch,” he warned.

Then he rammed back in.. hard, merciless, hips snapping like gunfire. The angle was brutal, deep, each thrust punching a choked curse from Jey’s chest. Randy’s pace was relentless, eyes locked on the mirror so Jey had no choice but to see how hot, how fucked out, how utterly taken he looked.

“Feel that? That’s every day you cost me,” Randy snarled, sweat flinging off his forehead with every slam. “You want forgiveness? Cum around my cock like a Good boy and maybe I’ll think about it.”

Jey’s vision tunneled, pleasure and pain coiling molten in his belly. He was so close he could taste it, but Randy wouldn’t touch him, wouldn’t let up.

“Beg again,” Randy demanded. “Beg while you watch yourself fall apart.”

Jey’s knees shook. “Please—Randy, please—need to—can’t—”

Randy’s thrusts went ragged, deeper. He was close too, jaw clenched.

“Hold it,” he snarled through his teeth. Jey’s whole body quaked, but he obeyed; barely, muscles locked, every nerve on fire.

Randy slammed in once, twice and then stopped, buried to the hilt, shuddering, cock pulsing inside but denying himself the orgasm.

“Eyes up,” he growled, fingers digging bruises into Jey’s thighs. “Watch yourself come apart for me.”

Jey’s gaze locked on the mirror. His reflection looked beautiful in a way a fanfiction writer would portray him: lips swollen, cheeks flushed, hair clinging to sweat-shiny skin. Randy towered over him from behind, one hand gripping Jey’s throat, the other sliding down his chest, nails scraping sparks across trembling abs.

“Hold still.”

Randy wrapped a merciless fist around Jey’s aching cock, once, twice, just enough friction to make Jey’s hips jerk despite the order. Randy tightened his grip on Jey’s throat, steadying him like a misbehaving animal.

“You move, I let go,” he warned.

Jey froze, knuckles whitening behind his head. Every twitch of Randy’s fist sent pleasure spiraling through him, but he didn’t dare buck. He just stared at their reflection while Randy worked him: slow, brutal pumps that dragged skin tight, thumb grinding over the sensitive underside until Jey’s vision spotted.

“Look at your face,” Randy hissed. “See what begging looks like.”

Jey’s mouth fell open but there was no words, just ragged panting. Randy’s fist kept its punishing rhythm, wrist twisting cruelly each downstroke, squeezing precum into slick trails that gleamed under the lamp. The pressure in Jey’s gut coiled tight.

“You close?”

Jey’s eyes pleaded through the glass. A broken whisper slipped out: “Yeah—”

“Beg again.”

“Please—please let me—need it—” The words fell apart on a gasp.

Randy’s grip slacked one agonizing second that made Jey whimper but then it snapped shut, pumping faster, thumb slamming across the head in tight circles that made Jey shake.

“Cum,” Randy commanded. “Now. And don’t you dare look away.”

The order detonated inside Jey like a match to oil. His whole body locked, then convulsed; orgasm ripped through him so hard his thighs clenched around Randy’s hips. Hot release splattered his chest, his stomach, his own chin.. every pulse mirrored in the glass. Randy didn’t let up, stroking him through each spasm until Jey sagged, trembling and wide-eyed at the reflection of his ruined body.

“Good boy,” Randy murmured, loosening his hand from Jey’s throat to smear the mess across his pec in a slow, possessive sweep. “Stay open. We’re not finished.”

Jey’s muscles twitched but he stayed exactly where Randy left him: head tipped back, hands laced, legs spread, still watching the mirror as Randy drew out only to thrust back in one long, punishing push that made Jey gasp around a spent whine.

“You remember this every time you see a mirror,” Randy said, voice grinding low as he finally chased his own edge now using Jey’s pliant body the way he wanted, bed slamming in brutal cadence. “Because I’m gonna paint you from the inside next, and you’re gonna feel it for days.”

The rhythm turned ruthless.

No more commands. No more teasing.

Just brutality.

Randy fucked him like a machine with each thrust fast, precise, punishing as his hips continued crashing against Jey’s ass loud enough to drown the groaning bedframe, the wet slap of skin, the breathless moans punched from Jey’s chest every time Randy drove in.

Jey couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. His arms had dropped, boneless, sprawled above his head. His body was already limp with aftershock, cock still twitching against his belly but Randy never let up. If anything, he pounded harder, faster, chasing his own release with no concern for what Jey had left to give.

“You thought we were done?” Randy hissed into his ear, breath hot and venomous. “That was for you. This is for me.”

Jey whimpered, he was overstimulated but he didn’t say stop.

Because he didn’t want to.

Because some sick, submissive part of him wanted to be used like this.

Randy shifted his angle, dug his fingers into Jey’s hips so hard it’d bruise, and slammed in deep, again and again until his breathing fractured, low groans dragging from his chest.

Then a final, brutal snap of his hips: he came.

Throbbing. Buried. Emptying inside Jey with a snarl ripped from his throat.

He pulsed hot and thick cum inside of Jey, muscles locking, chest heaving with the force of it. For a long moment, neither of them moved.. just the sound of regaining breath from the aftermath of sex.

Randy slowly pulled out, a messy drag, his cum leaking down to the back of Jey’s thighs. He stood there, sweaty and flushed, watching it drip.

And then, the smirk.

The kind of smirk that said this wasn’t about forgiveness. It was about control.

He leaned in, voice low against Jey’s ear:

“You better get your strength back up, Uso because I can go all night.”

Randy stood tall, unbothered, walking toward the bathroom. Leave Jey breathless and staring at his own broken reflection in the mirror.

Alone.

Until the next round.

#wwe #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #fanfiction #jey uso #fanfic #yeet #jey uso smut #randy orton #Randy Orton x Jey Uso #Randy Orton smut #slash #Spotify

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 7 days ago

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Credit to Gif owners

@acknowledge-reigns

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 7 days ago

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Hey yall. So I just wanna formally come out and say this.. moving forward… it is NOT okay for anyone to privately message me and attempt friendships with me anymore. I do NOT want to be apart of any type of conversations. I came on this platform last year to make friends and get back into writing. I accomplished the writing part but the making friends part? Yeah not IT. So moving forward as well… no SHOUT OUTS, no REQUESTS, no ANYTHING really. My stories are my stories. My mental health is my mental health. I just hate it because I use to always be the one advocating for y’all to message me but now.. don’t reach out to me.

Current Stories Available on A03:

NCITW

Strata

6WITCH

Heaven

After these fics I might just take a break.

#wwe #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #fanfiction #yeet #rhea and jey #jey uso #the judgement day #fanfic #rhea ripley

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 11 days ago

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😩

thinking abt jey being a munch 😵‍💫 (yall i swear the weed just be smoking me back. also catch the sinners reference in there if you can :p)

- getting head from jey is a big part of you guys’ routines. he’d honestly stay down there forever if you let him!

- jey would also eat you out anywhere if you let him tbh

- when y’all first moved into your dream home, of course y’all had to christen every room!

- jey always finds literally the worst times to decide to initiate anything because he truly does not care

- you’ll be working in your home office when jey just waltzes in and rolls your desk chair, with you in it, in front of him. he’d be wearing that little devious look on his face he always did whenever he wanted some pussy.

- “please, mama? i just wanna taste you,” he’d whisper to you in the movie theater. y’all, well you, were trying to watch that new marvel movie but jey had other plans.

- let’s just say that the new avengers got a show that night!

- after a long day of work, you both just need to relax. what better way to do that than getting some earth-shattering head from your husband?

- he’ll start off slow, so slow that it’s almost painful how much you have to hold yourself back from grinding your hips into his face.

- once he speeds up though, you eat all your thoughts. his tongue licking at your clit with so much determination paired with two of his fingers inside of you was a heavenly match.

- your legs would tremble around his head but he wouldn’t care.

- y’all already know he’s talking you through that shit.

- one night you’d just been so bratty and he couldn’t take much more of it. the one thing that man loved more than eating you out was putting you in your place.

- “w-why you fucking me like thiss,” you’d moan as his skilled tongue moved all over your clit. he had already made you cum twice but he was determined to teach you a lesson. you’d move your hand to his face, a weak attempt at pushing him away even though you craved more.

- “nah move that hand,” he’d say breathlessly, dominance still lingering in his tone even though he’d been lapping at you for lord knows how long, “you was talking all that shit, right mama? don’t run now.”

- you didn’t know how long jey had been down between your legs but his pace never faltered. you were so close to your release and he knew that, the way your walls squeezed his fingers told him everything he needed to know.

- “this pussy so fucking good, baby,” he’d mumble against you, not even bothering to look up. at a sudden squelching sound that came from his fingers’ face pace inside of you, he’d speak up again. “shittt, you so wet. this all for me?” he’d ask even though he knew it was.

- you’d barely even heard him, your mind too focused on how good he was eating you out. “m’fuckkk,” you’d moan out first, your brain desperately trying to form words. “s’all for you, daddy,” you’d whine once you’d gathered your thoughts.

- “you so fucking pretty, baby,” he’d gush, “can’t wait to nut all up in this.

- and that, he did.

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 12 days ago

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WAIT WAIT WAIT!

SO YOU TELL ME JEY AINT INJURED THAT NIGGA WILL BE AT WORK ON MONDAY! SO THEY REALLY REALLY JUST TOOK THE TITLE OFF HIM FOR GUNTHER AND GOLDBERG!!!

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 12 days ago

Note

These crack fics are hilarious 😂😂😂 how did you come up with any of these ideas?

Various comedy movies. I’m actually a big ROMCOM PERSON

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 12 days ago

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The Mariachi Uso - Jhea

People’ id sing Beyoncé for: @spiicii @maineventabbey @acknowledge-reigns @xxwhatcouldhavebeenxx @love4brutality @isabella-2025 @minteagalaxea @cheappop

Jey wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose.

He was just vibing, humming “Play That Funky Music” to himself, ice bucket in hand… until he heard Dom’s stupid little whisper-voice echoing from around the corner.

“Yeah, bro. I hired the band already. She loves Selena. I’m having them do ‘I Could Fall In Love.’ It’s gonna be so romantic.”

Jey froze mid-step.

Dom kept going.

“I’m setting them up right outside her hotel window. Like old-school. Notebook vibes. I think after this, she’s gonna see me differently.”

Jey’s brain short-circuited. He dropped the ice bucket. Ice scattered across the carpet like emotional shrapnel.

Notebook vibes?!

Mariachi band?!

SELENA?!

That was a bold choice. Selena was sacred. That was power-move-tier music. That was not for a man with a rat tail and no beard.

Jey ducked back around the corner and yanked out his phone with trembling fingers.

THE BLOODLINE🩸

Jey: emergency

Jey: CODE RED

Jey: DOM IS SERENADING RHEA

Jey: A MARIACHI BAND

Jey: HE’S DOING SELENA

Jimmy: bro what

Sami: you okay??

Solo: tf kind of sidequest is that

Jey: he’s doing “I COULD FALL IN LOVE” OUTSIDE HER WINDOW

Roman: why do you care

Jey: because she’s MY girl

Roman: didn’t she hook up with you at her birthday party?

Jimmy: yeah u said she rode you like a monster truck

Sami: that was a direct quote

Solo: you made us high-five you

Jey: THAT’S NOT THE POINT

Jey: dom thinks he still has a chance

Jey: he still looks at her like she’s his soulmate and I can’t take that risk

Jey: HE’S USING SELENA. THIS IS WAR.

Jey: we can’t let this happen

Jey: if he wins emotionally he wins sexually! I can’t let that happen! She sucked the soul out of my dick…

Roman: tf do you need from us then

Jey: something that will make me do your laundry for a YEAR

Jimmy: hold up

Jimmy: like my sweaty gear bags??

Jey: yes

Jimmy: my fish taco socks??

Jey: YES

Solo: I’m listening

Sami: you don’t even do your own laundry

Jey: that’s why it’s a BIG OFFER

Roman: u better be dying

Jey: I AM. HEARTBREAK IS DEATH

Roman: what’s the plan

Jey: WE STEAL THE BAND

Solo: you want us to…

Jimmy: hijack a live mariachi band

Jey: YES. intercept them BEFORE they get to Rhea’s room. put on the outfits.

Jey: I’ll take lead. Sami sings. Solo holds the trumpet. Roman just stand there. intimidating. sexy.

Roman: u lucky I’m bored

Jimmy: Mariachi Uso boutta go platinum

Sami: I hope you know “I Could Fall In Love” has falsetto

Jey: I’ve BEEN in falsetto since Dom said “Notebook vibes”

—

8:37 PM

The van door slid open and five mariachi musicians stepped out, dressed to slay, instruments shining under the streetlights.

Jey adjusted his hoodie and stepped forward, nervous.

Before he could even open his mouth—

One of the band members gasped and shouted:

“¡ROMÁN REIGNS!”

The whole band lost it.

The violinist grabbed his phone. The trumpet guy dropped his mouthpiece. One of them literally pointed at Roman like he was seeing Cher and the Pope at the same time.

“El Jefe Tribal!”

“El Campeón más sexy!”

“Dios mío, es EL REIGNS.”

Roman blinked. “What the fuck?”

Jey whispered, “Uce… you’re over in Mexico.”

The leader of the band stepped forward, breathless.

“For you, Señor Reigns? We give you everything. Our jackets. Our instruments. Our souls.”

Roman shrugged. “Cool.”

Ten minutes later: Costumes exchanged. Guitars tuned. The real band is chilling in catering with backstage passes and a gift bag of Bloodline merch.

Jimmy was holding a vihuela like it was a baby.

Solo kept plucking one string and nodding like he understood music theory.

Sami was standing beside a man named Ernesto, getting a crash course in how to seduce vocally in A minor.

“Breathe like you love her,” Ernesto whispered, clutching Sami’s chest.

“I don’t love her,” Sami said.

“Then fake it, gringo.”

Meanwhile, Jey stood in front of the mirror of a parked SUV, adjusting the tight mariachi blazer over his chest.

“Okay,” one of the musicians asked, “what song do you want to perform?”

Jey didn’t hesitate.

“Young Forever. Beyoncé and Jay-Z.”

Jimmy choked. “Uce… that’s not even Mexican.”

Roman blinked. “That’s not even MARIA—”

“TRUST ME.”

Jey looked up at the hotel, wind hitting his mullet dramatically.

“This is about legacy. About love. About showing up and showing out.”

He held the mic like it was a promise and whispered:

“I’m Jay-Z. She’s Beyoncé. Dom is just a fan.”

—

Dom perked up, grinning like a kid who just got his Hogwarts letter, listening to the distant music,

“Hey… sounds like someone got you something.”

Rhea looked up from her phone, visibly annoyed. “Huh?”

“Outside. That’s probably the mariachi band I… a friend set up for you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You got me a band?”

Dom sat up straighter, puffing his chest. “You know… I mean… yeah.”

Rhea, already losing interest by the second, sighed and walked to the window. She cracked it open.

The sound hit instantly:

“Let’s dance in style,

Let’s dance for a while…”

Rhea squinted. “…is that Beyoncé ?”

Dom frowned. “What the fuck..”

He leaned over her shoulder.

“Heaven can wait, we’re only watching the skies

Hoping for the best but expecting the worst

Are you gonna drop the bomb or not?”

Jey, in a tight-ass mariachi jacket, was singing his heart out like he was fighting demons on the X Factor stage. Voice wobbling. Notes crumbling. Emotions high. It was the kind of performance that made you wince and root for him.

Dom’s face dropped. “That’s… that’s not my band…”

Rhea covered her mouth.

Not from emotion.

From laughter.

Because this was deranged.

Because Jey sounded like he was being waterboarded in falsetto.

Because she was obsessed.

And then—

“Let us die young or let us live forever

We don’t have the power, but we never say never

Sitting in a sandpit, life is a short trip

The music’s for the sad man…”

That’s when the rest of the Bloodline joined in:

“FOREVER YOUNG!!

I WANNA BE…

FOREVER YOUNG!!

DO YOU REALLY WANT TO LIVE FOREVER?!

FOREVER!

AND EVERRRR!!”

Jimmy doing backup vocals with too much hip.

Solo hitting wrong notes but full commitment.

Sami attempting to do an interpretive dance.

Roman in sunglasses, arms crossed, mouthing the words with zero passion but god-tier intimidation.

Dom stepped back from the window like he’d just watched his dreams get dropkicked by his own father.

“He… he STOLE my serenade!!!”

Rhea leaned further out the window.

“I think I like this version better.”

Dom’s face was stuck between shock, rage, and total public humiliation. He backed away from the window slowly.

“No. No no no. He did not just Beyoncé-block me with a mariachi remix.”

Rhea turned slightly. “I don’t remember asking you to do anything, Dom.”

That was the final nail.

Dom pulled out his phone, shaking with anger.

“Finn. JD. Damian. You at the gym?” He whispered angrily.

“Yeah?”

“They’re here. Outside Rhea’s window. The Bloodline. Playing music. Wearing mariachi suits. I need backup. Take them out.” Dom ordered silently.

“…be there in 3.”

Dom stormed out of the room like a man possessed. He didn’t even close the door behind him.

—

Jey was glowing. Sweating. His jacket was two buttons away from exploding off his chest. The crowd of random hotel guests that had formed on the lawn were cheering. He looked up at Rhea.

“Did you like it?” he called out breathlessly.

She smiled, leaning on the windowsill like goth version of Juliet in fishnets.

“You sounded like you were being choked by love… but yeah. I liked it.”

Jey clutched his chest. “Mami. I meant every word.”

And just as he opened his mouth to finally say it—

BANG.

The gym doors behind them flew open.

Damian Priest, Finn Bálor, and JD McDonagh stormed the courtyard like it was WarGames.

Finn pointed. “You stole our performance at her birthday!”

JD: “Now you’re ruining Dom’s chances.”

Jimmy: “Oh shit.”

Solo: “They’re in gym shorts. That means they’re serious.”

Jey turned to the others. “Uce—we got incoming.”

Sami ripped off his mariachi sash. “Battle-ready.”

Roman sighed. “Should’ve stayed inside.”

The Judgment Day charged.

Jey turned to Rhea one last time.

Breathless. Glowing. Finally brave.

“I LOVE YOU. I BEEN IN LOVE WITH YOU. I FELL IN LOVE WHEN YOU HIT ME WITH THE BRIEFCASE ON ACCIDENT. I’D LET YOU DO IT AGAIN. OKAY BYE—”

And then he dropkicked JD straight into the violin stand.

The first dive was done by Solo, naturally.

He didn’t hesitate. No warning. Just sprinted toward Damian and shoulder-tackled him into the decorative fountain like a linebacker with anger issues.

SPLASH.

Damian came up soaked, mascara running, screaming in rage like an angry raccoon.

“YOU RUINED MY EYE LINER!”

From there?

All hell broke loose.

Jimmy picked up a mariachi guitar, screamed “THIS IS FOR SELENA” and smashed it over JD’s back, sending splinters everywhere. JD yelled in Irish and tried to suplex him into a bush.

Sami used a tambourine as a shield while Finn swung at him with a busted trumpet. Every time Sami blocked, it jingled like a Christmas fight scene.

“YOU STOLE OUR BAND!”

“YOU STOLE HIS GIRL!”

“WELL SHE STOLE MY HEART!!” Sami shouted, ducking a punch and spinning.

Roman just stood there, watching, sipping from someone’s left-behind mimosa, not even trying.

A little girl watching from a balcony whispered, “That’s the boss.”

Jey and Dom circled each other like two guys about to slapbox in a Walmart parking lot.

Dom yelled, “You always ruin everything for me!”

Jey yelled back, “YOU WERE GONNA RUIN SELENA!”

Then Dom lunged—and Jey tripped him with a trumpet case.

Dom went flying. Hit the fountain.

Landed on top of Damian.

Who screamed again.

“GET YOUR SOGGY ASS OFF ME!”

Meanwhile, Rhea watched from her window like a goth goddess surveying the fall of Rome.

She sipped her drink. “Idiots.”

A hotel manager stood below her window looking pale. “Ma’am… do you… know them?”

She nodded. “Biblically.”

The man walked away.

A tourist couple filmed everything on their iPad.

“Is this a flash mob?”

“No, I think it’s performance art.”

Eventually, the police showed up.

And then the fire department.

Rhea came downstairs.

In slippers. Hoodie. No makeup. Still the hottest person alive.

Everyone froze.

The Bloodline paused mid-fight.

Judgment Day groaned in defeat.

She walked up to Jey—now holding a mic stand like a battle spear—and kissed him.

Right there. In front of everyone.

Even Roman blinked.

Rhea pulled away and said: “That was the worst singing I’ve ever heard. I loved it.”

Jey beamed. “So uh… are we dating now?”

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

#Spotify #wwe #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #fanfiction #jey uso #fanfic #rhea ripley #yeet #rhea and jey #the judgement day #jey and jimmy uso #wwe jhea fanfiction #jhea smut #jhea wwe #jhea crumbs #wwe jhea #SoundCloud

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 14 days ago

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@spiicii 🥴🥴🥴

Found this on Pinterest and thought I'd do you girlies a solid and repost 🤣

@reignseclipse @acute-crashout-jeyuso @lov3rla03

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 14 days ago

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It is okay. Sometimes I won’t always respond but it’s cause I’m busy af. 😩 but I love all of yalllllllll

REBLOG IF ITS OKAY TO TALK TO YOU.

Please.

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 15 days ago

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"You look good in silk," she says. "But I think you look better when you know what you're worth. Don't forget."

Your breath catches in your throat. You shift again. The city glows against the windows. But you're already burning.

"Are you always this good at this?" you ask. Not teasing. Just… wondering.

"No," she replies. "Just when someone makes it easy to want to be."

💬- A Long Search Ended Series- part two.

sugarmommy!RheaRipley x sugarbaby!reader

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 15 days ago

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😭❤️

He said that he was going to do it his way. He was going to carry that title and not let it change him. He said that he would help his friends, help his family, help the people who had his back (and his front), the ones who assisted him in getting him to this point. He didn't care that being champ meant he had a target on his back, he didn't care what shape that left him in.

He was not going to let the belt change him.

He was going to show up, day in and day out (working both shows), to prove that he was worthy of the WHC, to prove that he was worthy of standing in the company of so many greats that came before.

I think it's more than fair to say that he accomplished all of that and so much more.

It was an honor and a privilege for me to watch him flourish as WHC.

He fulfilled a dream that he probably couldn't have possibly realized when he first debuted with his twin over 15 years ago now.

That is a World Heavyweight Champion worth remembering.

Jey Uso is a World Heavyweight Champion worth remembering.

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 15 days ago

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The Rock Band Uso — Jhea *crackfic*

Author’s Note: was gonna post this last night but was hella upset.

People I’d make bat cupcakes for: @spiicii @cheappop @maineventabbey @love4brutality @acknowledge-reigns @isabella-2025 @minteagalaxea @xxwhatcouldhavebeenxx

Jey was minding his business. Just came back from the gym. Shirt damp. Protein shake in hand. Trying not to think about Rhea’s thighs.

Then his phone buzzed.

Rhea 🥴😈🍑💦🍆🤍💀:

Hey, throwing a little birthday thing at mine Saturday night.

You should come. Bring your guys if you want.

No pressure x

Jey read it three times.

Stared at it.

Read it again.

Then he screamed into a throw pillow.

Bloodline Group Chat:

Jey: SHE INVITED ME TO HER BIRTHDAY

Jimmy: who

Solo: the goth one

Roman: ah

Jey: rhea 😩😩😩😩

Jimmy: oh damn

Sami: 🧍🏻‍♂️u okay my dawg?

Jey: im gonna ask her out. this is it. this is my rom-com moment

Roman: what are we bringing

Sami: a gift?

Jey: yeah we need to be respectful

Roman: i got it

Jey: what u mean u got it

Roman: i’m getting her something cool

Jimmy: define cool

Roman: …

Jey: WHAT U GETTIN HER

Solo: lmao I could see his screen

Sami: ROMAN

Jey: TF U GETTING HER YOU SIZE 15

Roman: dnt worry, she’s goth

Roman: she’ll love it

Jey: uce be so fucking fr rn

Roman: ttyl bitchessssss, OTC out

—

Saturday Night

Rhea’s place was decked out in spooky glam: black roses, vintage candles, fog machine in the kitchen for no reason. Everyone looked hot. There was a snack table shaped like a tombstone. Even the charcuterie board had cat-shaped salami.

The doorbell had rang.

She opened it & lo and behold.. the Bloodline.

Jey in a black button-up, clutching a card like it’s a contract. Jimmy and Solo looking chaotic as usual. Sami with cupcakes.

And Roman?

Roman in the back. Standing next to a goddamn full-sized coffin on a dolly. Black, polished, sinister.

“Happy Birthday,” Roman said, like it was the most normal thing ever. “You can put it against a wall. Y’know. For vibes.”

Rhea stared.

Then grinned. “That’s actually sick.”

Jey nearly collapsed.

Roman tilted the coffin like he was handling a vending machine delivery. “Where you want this?”

Rhea didn’t miss a beat. “Garage, please. Between my punching dummy and my old Hell in a Cell gear.”

Roman nodded with a proud little grunt. “Knew you’d love it.”

Sami stepped forward next, smiling nervously, hands full of a tinfoil-covered tray.

“I brought cupcakes,” he said, like a kid presenting a diorama.

Rhea took the tray, lifted the foil—and gasped.

“Are these… bats?!”

Sami’s eyes lit up. “I made them myself. They’re filled with strawberry jelly so when you bite into them, it kinda, y’know… spews.”

Rhea clutched her chest. “You remembered my love for when Ozzy bit the bat?!”

Sami beamed. “I watched The Osbournes on DVD just for this.”

Rhea leaned forward and kissed his cheek, smudging him with dark lipstick. “You’re the best.”

Jey made a sound.

Not a word. Just a low, feral growl deep in his throat.

Jimmy turned, raised a brow, and smacked his chest. “Down, Cujo.”

Jey shoved him, cheeks flushed, voice rough. “She kissed him, Uce.”

“And? You ain’t even said hi without sounding like a toddler on NyQuil.”

Before Jey could argue, Rhea looked at him—just him—and said:

“C’mon in, boys.”

The door swung open, revealing the chaos within. Music thumped from somewhere. Colored lights bounced off the walls. The house was packed. Shot glasses everywhere. A cape was hanging off the stair banister like someone had already tried to crowd-surf in it.

Rhea stepped beside Jey, cocked her head, and asked:

“You want a drink?”

Jey opened his mouth.

No sound.

Just air.

Brain: Say yes. Say literally anything.

Mouth: 🧍‍♂️💀💭

“…uhuh.”

Rhea raised an eyebrow.

Jimmy jumped in with the assist of a lifetime. “He means yes. He’ll take tequila.”

He pushed Jey forward so hard Jey stumbled right into Rhea’s personal space.

She didn’t flinch.

She just smiled. “Tequila it is.”

And then walked off toward the bar with a sway that should’ve been illegal.

Jey stood there, red-faced, frozen in place.

Solo passed him, shook his head, and muttered, “Lover boy’s down bad.” Then he followed Jimmy out of their space.

“So you like the decor?” Rhea asked, casually swirling her drink.

Speak!

“Yeah… I ugh….. I..” Before Jey could embarrass himself more, Rhea felt her phone buzz.

“Oh hold on Jey..” She said.

She’s so pretty even when she’s not talking to me..

Rhea stared down at her phone, jaw clenched.

“Dom said he was going to ask me a very important question tonight,” she muttered. “But now he can’t even get here on time. Traffic on I-4, apparently.”

Jey’s ears perked up like a dog hearing a treat bag.

Dom? Important question?

Jey was already sweating. “Wait—like, romantic question?”

Rhea shrugged, half-annoyed, half-bored. “I guess. He said he had something to say after their little musical performance.”

Jey blinked. “Wait. What musical performance?”

Rhea: “Damian, Finn, JD, and Dom were gonna play live. For me.”

Live music. Dom. Question. Romance.

Jey’s soul left his body.

“HOLD ON. I GOTTA TALK TO MY BOYS.”

“Wait, wha—Jey?”

But he was already gone.

Storming through the crowd.

Sweating like he just competed in the Elimination Chamber.

—

He found them in the living room.

The Bloodline. Gathered. Silent.

Staring.

At a taxidermied raccoon in a purple tutu.

Jimmy tilted his head. “Why it look like it’s judging me?”

Sami poked it with a plastic sword toothpick from the hors d’oeuvres. “What if it’s haunted?”

Solo crossed his arms. “This thing seen war.”

Jey burst into the circle like he was running a fire drill. “WE HAVE A SITUATION.”

Everyone jumped.

Jimmy: “Bro are you sweating from your elbows?”

Jey paced like a lunatic. “Dom was gonna perform tonight. A full-on musical number. For Rhea. To ask her out. He’s stuck in traffic. This is my moment. This is my John Cusack holding the boombox over his head in the rain moment.”

Sami blinked. “You good?”

“No. But listen—if we take their place and perform instead, I can block his whole plan. Intercept it.”

Jimmy made a face. “With what band?”

Jey threw his arms up. “Us!”

Solo: “We don’t sing.”

Jey: “Yes we do! That one time! Karaoke bar! ‘Play That Funky Music White Boy!’ That’s our one song.”

Everyone fell silent.

Sami: “…That was a honest to god fever dream.”

Jey dropped to his knees. “Please. I will do you guys’ laundry for a month. I will fold your jeans with lavender dryer sheets. I’ll clean your Nikes with a toothbrush. I will Febreze your socks.”

Solo raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even do your own laundry.”

“FOR HER I WOULD.”

There was a long pause.

Then Sami slowly lifted a hand.

“I’m in.”

Solo shrugged. “I ain’t doing shit else.”

Jimmy groaned. “If I say no, are you gonna cry?”

“I might,” Jey sniffled.

“Then fine. But I want pancakes tomorrow.”

Jey spun slowly…

To him.

The Tribal Chief.

Roman Reigns.

Standing in the corner. Arms folded. Looking like he was about to deny Moses his sea split.

“Please,” Jey whispered. “O my Tribal Chief.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “You want me… to perform Wild Cherry… in front of a house full of drunk wrestlers… just so you can cockblock Dominik Mysterio?”

Jey nodded. “Yes, my Tribal Chief.”

Roman sighed deeply.

Rubbed his temples.

Then looked at the raccoon.

Back at Jey.

Roman didn’t answer right away.

He just stood there. Silent. Regal. Full of pain and disappointment.

That long, tired, disappointed-dad sigh that said I’ve led an empire, I’ve main-evented WrestleMania ten times, and now I’m about to play backup guitar at a goth birthday party for the sake of a love-sick idiot.

He stepped forward.

Folded his arms.

Looked at Jey like he was already preparing the eulogy.

“You think being Tribal Chief is about power,” Roman began, low and brooding. “You think it’s about gold. Legacy. Blood. Sweat. War.”

Everyone stared.

Even the raccoon looked invested.

“But sometimes…” he continued, staring off into the middle distance, “being Chief means sacrificing dignity. Performing under pressure. And doing one… fucked up favor… for the dumbest member of your family.”

Jimmy: “Wow.”

Sami: “This is beautiful.”

Solo: “I’m crying.”

Roman closed his eyes. “I’ll do it.”

Jey gasped. “You will?!”

Roman held up a finger. “Guitar only. I am not singing. I will not dance. I will not clap. I will not groove. I will stand in the back like a man who hates this.”

“That’s fair,” Sami nodded. “That’s what George Harrison did.”

Jey clapped his hands. “Okay, okay—so we got Roman on guitar, Solo on drums—”

Solo blinked. “Who said I’m playing drums?”

“You look like a drummer, Uce!”

Jimmy shrugged. “I’ll do cowbell. I been waiting for my moment.”

Sami smiled. “I’ve got bass.”

Jey looked around. “Perfect! That’s everyone—wait. Who’s gonna sing?”

Silence.

The entire Bloodline slowly turned.

All of them.

At once.

Eyes locking on him.

Joshua Samuel Fatu.

Jey pointed at his own chest. “Me?!”

Jimmy: “You the one who wants the girl.”

Sami: “You started this.”

Solo: “Sing or die.”

Roman stepped forward with the gravitas of Zeus himself.

“You better funk that music, White Boy.”

—

12 ANXIETY FILLED MINUTES LATER.

Jey tapped the mic twice.

It made that awful eeeekkkk sound.

Everyone turned.

He swallowed. Hard.

“Uh… yeah. Hey. Sup. Uh… So. Funny story. Judgment Day got stuck in traffic. So, uh… we’re your band now. Please don’t throw anything.”

Muffled chuckles from the crowd.

Rhea blinked slowly, arms crossed, already amused. “What the fuck is he doing?”

Before anyone could even fully process the weird energy in the room—

Roman stepped forward, stone-faced, and STRUMMED the opening guitar riff.

DUN—DUN—DA-DUNNNN.

Solo hit the drums. Sami came in with the bassline. Jimmy grabbed a tambourine like he was born with it.

And then—Jey opened his mouth.

“🎶 Once I was a boogie singer…

Playing in a rock and roll band…

I never had no problems, yeah…

Runnin’ down in one night stands… 🎶”

The crowd was stunned.

Not because it was bad.

Because it was GOOD.

Like… worryingly good.

Jey found his rhythm. His voice shook on the first verse, but by the time he hit—

“🎶 Now everything around me

Got to start to feelin’ so low…

And I decided quickly, yes I did,

To disco down and check out the show! 🎶”

—the entire Bloodline was groovin’.

Jimmy, Sami, and Roman started stepping in sync.

Right.

Left.

Hip pop.

Jey hesitated.

Then joined in.

The crowd lost it.

Rhea bent over laughing, clutching her stomach. “What the ACTUAL fuck—”

Then it happened.

The moment.

The line.

“🎶 And there was dancing and singing

And movin’ to the groovin’

And just when it hit me

Somebody turned around and shouted— 🎶”

Jey threw his arm in the air. Sweat flying. Eyes locked on Rhea. Full chest.

“🎤 PLAY THAT FUNKY MUSIC WHITE BOY!!!”

The room. Erupted.

Wrestlers jumped. Candles flickered. A goth spilled her drink. Someone lit a sparkler that wasn’t even legal in the state.

“PLAY THAT FUNKY MUSIC RIGHT!!!” they all screamed.

Solo was playing drums like a possessed raccoon.

Sami was hitting bass lines and shoulder shimmies.

Roman, STILL expressionless, was playing guitar like he owed it money.

And Jimmy was… doing pelvic thrusts. A lot of them.

Jey dropped to his knees, holding the mic up to the ceiling like he was begging the funk gods for Rhea’s love.

And when he looked at her—

She was smiling.

Laughing.

Eyes shining.

Hands clapping along.

And—most importantly—watching only him.

The song ended with Jimmy doing the worm, Roman unplugging the guitar mid-note like he’d just completed military service, and Jey bowing like he was in Hamilton.

People were clapping. Cheering. Screaming.

But Jey?

Jey only cared about one person.

He jumped off the little makeshift stage—a pile of wooden crates Rhea’s friends had turned into a mic stand area—and beelined straight for the kitchen.

Rhea was leaning against the counter, sipping something dark and dangerous from a skull-shaped cup. Her black lipstick was smudged. Her eyeliner still perfect.

She looked up as he walked in, sweat shining on his forehead, breathing like he just did cardio for the first time in years.

“You never told me you sing,” she said, grinning.

Jey wheezed. “I never told anyone I sing. I didn’t even know I sing until like… ten minutes ago.”

Rhea tilted her head. “Come here.”

Jey blinked. “Huh?”

“Come here, Uso.”

She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him—yes, dragged—up the stairs past confused party guests, a spilled bowl of guac, and the taxidermied raccoon who somehow kept making appearances.

Into her room.

Black bedding.

Candles.

Tapestries.

A single, extremely cursed plushie of Billy the Puppet from Saw on her dresser.

She turned and locked the door.

Jey stood there, suddenly very aware that he was still holding the mic from downstairs.

“So uh—should I—put this—”

“Shut up.”

He shut up.

Rhea stepped closer, voice low. “I think we should be honest with each other.”

Jey blinked. “Whaaaa?”

She crossed her arms, lips twitching.

“Roman told me you liked me. Like… three months ago.”

Jey choked. “HUH?!”

She raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t know?”

“NO! I thought I was being subtle!”

“You told Solo you wanted to drink my bathwater.”

Jey turned red. “OKAY I WAS HAVING A MOMENT.”

Rhea smirked and stepped even closer.

“So is it true?”

Jey swallowed. “The bathwater thing?”

She laughed. “No, dumbass. That you like me.”

Jey took a shaky breath. “Yeah. I do.”

A pause.

Then—

“Cool. Take your pants off.”

Jey was still blinking in disbelief. “Wait.. like… for real?”

Rhea tugged him by the belt loops. “For real.”

They kissed.

It was soft for half a second.

Then not soft at all.

Jey gasped against her mouth, dropping the mic, which fell… causing the mic to hit the floor and turn on. “Yo, this is happening. This is actually happening. I’m so glad I sang that funky ass song—”

—

Downstairs, the music had stopped.

And through the speakers—loudly:

“—yo, I’m so hard right now it’s spiritual, like, I think I’m ascending—”

The room froze.

Sami dropped his cupcake.

Jimmy whipped around. “What the fuck?!”

“—I would sell my PS5 to see you without pants—”

Solo gagged into his drink. “OH MY GOD—”

The mic.

Sami dove for the board. “SOMEONE TURN HIM OFF!”

“—I’ve thought about this moment like 394 times, don’t ask why I know the number, just know I prayed on this—”

Roman sprinted from the kitchen like he was about to spear the microphone into another dimension. “WHO LET HIM KEEP THE MIC?!”

“—I’ll drink your bathwater right now. Put it in a Hydro Flask.”

Jimmy was on the floor laughing. “My man said Hydro Flask!!!”

Sami finally yanked the cord out.

Silence.

Everyone just stood there.

Traumatized.

Mortified.

Amused.

—

“…did you hear that click sound?”

Rhea raised an eyebrow. “Was the mic still on?”

Jey whispered, “…I’m never showing my face again.”

She smirked. “That’s fine, I’ll just sit on it from now on.”

“Mami.”

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