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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 1 day 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.”

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cyberrmusee · 4 months ago

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got a request for loser!choso by an anon :3 hope you like it anon!! :D

loser!choso who always watched you from afar, admiring your popularity as you hung with a large crowd of friends, smiling and giggling, jealousy bubbling in his blood.

loser!choso who always secretly left you flowers and notes on the windshield of you car, too scared to face you himself and talk to you, with your large crow of friends surrounding you constantly.

loser!choso who finally gained a modicum of confidence and started complimenting you on your cute & preppy outfits and the way your hair always looked so pretty, a blushing stuttering mess every time he spoke to you—avoiding eye contact.

loser!choso who became obsessed with you and kinda started stalking you on campus, sort of on accident definitely not, he knew your favorite food spots, watched you at every party you attended and even memorized your coffee order at the nearby cafe after watching you order it every straight for a week.

loser!choso who was a complete perv and snapped pictures of you when you weren’t looking, they wouldn’t even be provocative, just pictures of you mid conversation with someone or standing alone, he’d be pumping his pathetic cock in his hand at night while swiping through his camera roll, whimpering your name as he came on his own hand, wishing it was your tight cunt instead.

loser!choso who got caught by you, snapping the pervy pictures of you in your cute little skirt, you scolding him while dragging him by his ear telling him how he’d make this up to you by doing your homework assignments for a month.

loser!choso who finally got to feel your pussy grip him during your ovulation week while you were over at his place letting him do your homework—

his hips clapping against your ass relentlessly as he chased his and yours nth orgasm, while he practically cried into your pussy, profusely apologizing and begging for god knows what, but his hips never faltering.

“m’sorry—ngh—m’sorrrryyyy.. so so s-sorry.. please.. please… pleaseeeee”

you were ruined, you stopped counting how many times you’d came long ago, a mess between your legs as he held your head down into the pillow with one hand while the other held your hip in place. watching his cock slide in and out of you, obscenely loud sloshing and squelching noises bouncing off the wall right along with his whimpers as he reached another climax, abdomen tightening as he staggered his hips and came, painting your insides white with his hot seed for what had to be the millionth time.

you slumped forward, legs and body trembling from the way his cock worked your cunt out, only for him to flip you over into missionary, and get in between your legs, no fucking way, he was still hard.

“no more cho… can’t take it” you breathed out. he whined and leaned closer placing himself at your entrance “m’sorry, just one more.. please.. please.. need it.. need you.. pleaseeeee”

you rolled your eyes “fine one more.. then we’re done, you’ve got homework to finish” you huffed tiredly.

he stopped listening after he heard you say ‘fine’ and sunk right into to you, already crying and whimpering while he rocked his hips forward.

you were sort of amazed at how he could just keep going, how hard he stayed for you, it was kind of an ego boost and you smirked tiredly thinking to yourself ….

fucking loser.

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