Moxley99

[punksyeetgifs]

Jey’s Workout Session

UceyJucey via Instagram Stories - June 18th, 2026

🏷️: @miss-kuki-nz @spiicii @romanreignsbae @rollinsland @lovelikebuttahbaybee @dpriestxripleysgirl @jeysslut @xnightmarexpunkx @mari3st4r @wwecu @drivefouronthefloor @ashuhleawrites @plaidpajamallama ⋆˙⟡

[jeysslut]

I CAN'T BREATHEEE

[dreamgirljey]

OH MY LAWD🤤😩

[isabella-2025]

Fault Lines 14 Warnings: family conflict • manipulation • implied danger • emotional hurt • accident • injury

Pair: Jimmy X Trinity and Jey USO X Reader

Plot: When a heated in‑ring confrontation exposes growing tension between Jimmy and Jey Uso, the cracks in their family bond begin to spread far beyond the cameras. Trinity tries to hold the brothers together, but even she can feel the shift — the same instinct she’s always trusted telling her they’re no longer on the same page. As the pressure builds backstage, the reader becomes an unexpected anchor for Jey, the one person he lets see the hurt beneath the bravado. Meanwhile, Jimmy and Trinity face their own strain as the weight of loyalty, legacy, and love pulls in every direction. In a world built on family, performance, and unspoken expectations, the Usos must confront the fractures forming beneath their feet — and decide whether they’ll break apart or find a way back to each other. A slow‑burn emotional drama about brothers, marriage, and the unexpected connections that form when everything starts to fall apart.

okay so… yeah. I really ended the chapter like THAT. blame bury a friend because that song had me in a chokehold whispering “make it worse” and I listened way too fast.

we went from cuddling to CRIME SCENE in like 0.2 seconds and honestly? I'm sorry chapter 15 is gonna be worse. ❤️🤍😊🥹⚠️👀

The first thing you felt was warmth.

Not sunlight. Not blankets. Him.

Jey was wrapped around you like he’d been afraid you’d disappear in the night — one arm under your pillow, the other draped over your waist, his chest pressed to your back, his breath warm against your neck. His legs tangled with yours like he’d anchored himself there on purpose.

You shifted just a little.

His grip tightened instantly.

“Mmm… don’t go,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

You smiled into the pillow. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He hummed — low, content, relieved — and nuzzled into your shoulder like he was trying to burrow into you.

For a moment, the world was quiet.

No arenas. No cameras. No Roman. No chaos.

Just him.

Just you.

Jey finally blinked awake, eyes soft and heavy as he looked at you.

“Morning, baby.”

Your heart flipped. “Morning.”

He brushed a thumb across your cheek, slow and gentle, like he was memorizing you.

“You sleep good?” he asked.

“With you? Always.”

He smiled — that small, sleepy smile that only existed in the mornings, before the world had a chance to harden him again.

He leaned in and kissed you — soft, warm, unhurried.

The kind of kiss that said I’m safe here.

The kind of kiss that said thank you for last night.

The kind of kiss that said don’t leave me.

You kissed him back, fingers sliding into his hair.

He sighed against your lips.

“Damn,” he whispered. “I needed this.”

You rested your forehead against his.

“I know.”

Across the hotel, Trinity woke up to the sound of soft breathing beside her.

Jimmy was curled toward her, one hand resting over her stomach, his forehead pressed to her shoulder like he’d spent the whole night trying to make sure she didn’t slip away.

His eyes fluttered open slowly.

“Hey,” he whispered.

Trinity brushed her fingers through his hair. “Hey.”

He swallowed, voice low and honest.

“You still mad at me?”

She shook her head gently.

“No. I’m just… scared for you.”

Jimmy closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Trin. I promise.”

She cupped his face.

“You better not.”

He leaned into her touch, kissing her palm softly.

“I’m tryin’, baby. I’m really tryin’.”

And for the first time in days —

Trinity believed him.

Jacob sat on the edge of his hotel bed, phone propped up against a water bottle, smiling at the chaos on the screen.

“Daddy, look! I lost another tooth!”

“Daddy, can we get gelato when you come home?”

“Daddy, tell Roman he better be nice!”

Jacob snorted. “Baby, Roman ain’t never nice.”

His wife laughed in the background. “Don’t teach them that.”

Jacob shrugged. “I’m just sayin’ the truth.”

His youngest climbed into the frame, hair sticking up everywhere.

“Daddy, are you comin’ home soon?”

Jacob’s face softened completely.

“Yeah, baby. Soon. I promise.”

He kissed the screen.

“Love y’all.”

“Love you, Daddy!”

The call ended.

Jacob sat there for a moment, staring at the blank screen.

Then his smile faded.

Because he knew what today was.

Baltimore.

Roman.

The twins.

LA Knight.

And the storm waiting backstage.

He cracked his knuckles — the ones still bruised from Italy — and muttered:

“Yeah… today’s gonna be somethin’.”

The SUV was quiet when you all climbed in.

Not tense.

Not awkward.

Just… the kind of quiet that comes before thunder.

Jey slid in beside you, his hand finding yours instantly.

Jimmy and Trinity took the middle row, sitting close, their shoulders touching.

Jacob sat in the front passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window like he was already preparing for whatever Baltimore had waiting.

The driver pulled out of the hotel lot.

The city blurred past.

Jey squeezed your hand gently.

“You good?” he asked.

You nodded. “You?”

He shrugged, eyes on the window.

“Ask me again after tonight.”

Jimmy let out a humorless laugh from the row ahead.

“Man… tonight gon’ be messy.”

Trinity elbowed him lightly. “Don’t start.”

Jacob didn’t turn around, but his voice carried.

“Roman talkin’ big tonight. I can feel it.”

Jey scoffed. “He always talk big.”

Jacob finally looked back at him.

“Yeah. But tonight? He talkin’ about family.”

Jimmy’s jaw tightened.

Trinity reached for his hand.

You leaned your head on Jey’s shoulder.

And Jacob looked out the window again, muttering:

“Bloodline business ain’t never simple.”

The SUV turned toward the arena.

The Baltimore skyline rose ahead.

And the closer you got, the heavier the air felt.

Because tonight?

Roman was going to talk.

Jacob was going to act.

LA Knight was going to fight.

And the twins?

They were going to break or bond —

there was no in‑between.

The show hadn’t even officially started, but Baltimore was already shaking. The crowd was loud, restless, hungry — the kind of noise that meant something big was coming.

You and Trinity stood backstage near the monitor, the hum of the arena vibrating through the concrete floor. Jey was somewhere down the hall getting mic’d up, Jimmy pacing behind him, Jacob already in the ring with Roman.

Trinity folded her arms, eyes narrowed at the screen.

“Lord… this energy ain’t right,” she muttered.

You nodded, stomach tight. You could feel it too — that thick, storm‑before‑the‑storm tension that always came when Roman was about to manipulate someone.

The camera cut to the ring.

Roman stepped forward, mic in hand.

“Jacob… what, you don’t want to listen to the twins, huh?”

Trinity scoffed. “Oh, here he go.”

Jacob snatched the mic so fast the crowd gasped.

“When it comes to Jey and Jimmy, do I listen to them? Hell nah.”

The arena exploded.

Your breath caught.

Jacob wasn’t done.

“The only person I acknowledge… is my OTC, Roman Reigns.”

Trinity’s jaw dropped. “Oh, he bold bold.”

You felt your chest tighten — because you knew exactly what that line would do to Jey.

Roman took the mic back, smiling like a man who’d just won a war without lifting a finger.

“Good. We don’t need yes men around here.”

Trinity muttered, “He talkin’ about my husband and brother‑in‑law like they ain’t standin’ right there.”

Then Roman called for a stagehand.

You and Trinity leaned in.

The box opened.

And Roman pulled out the Ula Fala.

Trinity grabbed your arm. “Oh my God…”

Your heart dropped.

Jey’s face on the monitor said everything — shock, hurt, betrayal, confusion — all hitting him at once.

Jimmy looked stunned too, but Jey… Jey looked like someone had punched the air out of his lungs.

Roman wasn’t done.

“You see, Jacob… they’re terrified back there.”

Trinity’s eyes widened. “Oh, he’s twisting the knife.”

Roman kept talking — the history, the legacy, the family tree — every line crafted to make Jacob feel chosen and the twins feel small.

“When the Usos became the greatest tag team to ever live… that is The Bloodline.”

Jimmy swallowed hard on screen.

Jey didn’t move.

“When the Tribal Chief was born… that is The Bloodline.”

Trinity whispered, “He’s rewriting history right in front of them.”

Then Roman stepped closer to Jacob.

“For a minute now, I keep hearing you say you’re the outsider… not no more. You’re on the inside now. Jacob… welcome to the family business.”

The crowd erupted.

Roman placed the Ula Fala around Jacob’s neck.

Jacob raised his finger.

Roman raised his.

Jimmy hesitated.

Jey froze.

Trinity whispered, “Baby… don’t do it…”

But Jimmy nudged him — a small, desperate, brotherly push — and Jey finally stepped forward.

Both twins raised their fingers.

The crowd went wild.

You didn’t breathe.

Because Jey’s face didn’t match the gesture. He looked devastated.

The segment ended, and the four men walked up the ramp.

Roman high‑fived a kid.

Jimmy did too.

Jey didn’t.

And Jacob—

That’s where everything went wrong.

A comedian — Eric Andre — reached out and grabbed Jacob’s Ula Fala.

Trinity gasped. “Oh no—”

Jacob’s face snapped into something feral.

He yanked Eric Andre over the barricade like he weighed nothing.

You covered your mouth. “Jey’s gonna panic—”

Jacob dragged the man into the ring, climbing the ropes for a moonsault.

Roman held up a hand.

Jacob paused.

Officials rushed in.

For a second, it looked like it would stop there.

Then Roman gave the signal.

Jacob hit the moonsault anyway.

The crowd exploded in shock.

Roman smirked.

“One more time.”

Jacob obeyed.

Another moonsault.

The show cut to commercial.

The twins stood behind Roman — not celebrating, not proud — just… conflicted. Lost. Hurting.

Trinity exhaled shakily.

“Oh, this family is about to fall apart again.”

You swallowed hard, eyes still glued to the monitor.

Because you knew exactly what this meant.

Roman had chosen Jacob.

Jacob had chosen Roman.

And the twins?

They were standing on the outside of their own family.

Again.

The second the show cut to commercial, the energy backstage snapped like a rubber band pulled too tight.

Roman didn’t wait for anyone.

He didn’t look at Jimmy.

He didn’t look at Jey.

He didn’t even look at Jacob.

He just walked.

Fast.

Silent.

Jaw locked.

Eyes forward.

Like he wanted nothing to do with any of them.

He brushed past producers, stagehands, even security, not acknowledging a single person as he disappeared down the hallway toward his private locker room.

The door slammed behind him.

Jimmy and Jey came through the curtain next.

Jimmy looked rattled.

Jey looked… hollow.

Not angry. Not shocked.

Just hurt in a way that made your stomach twist.

Jacob came through last.

Still breathing heavy.

Still fired up.

Still wearing the Ula Fala Roman had placed around his neck.

He stopped in front of a production crate, reached up, and lifted the necklace off.

He stared at it for a moment, then set it down gently.

“I should throw this in the trash,” he muttered.

Jimmy blinked. “Jacob—”

Jacob shook his head.

“But I can’t. It’s a relic of the family. That’d be disrespectful.”

You and Trinity rounded the corner just in time to hear it.

Jacob looked at the twins — not defensive, not apologetic, just straightforward.

“And before either of y’all start thinkin’ too much,” he said, “that was TV. That was business. That ain’t real life. I ain’t pickin’ sides. I ain’t replacin’ nobody.”

Jimmy nodded immediately.

“I know, Uce. We good.”

Jacob clapped his shoulder once — firm, reassuring.

But Jey?

Jey didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t even blink.

He just stared at the Ula Fala like it was a wound he didn’t know how to touch.

Trinity stepped closer to him, voice soft. “Jey…”

He didn’t look at her.

You moved to his other side, gently brushing your fingers against his arm.

“Jey… talk to us.”

His throat bobbed.

His eyes stayed locked on the necklace.

Finally — barely audible — he said:

“…I heard him.”

Jimmy frowned. “Heard who?”

Jey swallowed hard.

“Roman everything he said to me all those years ago out there….”

His voice cracked.

“It's just hard not to break on TV sometimes."

The hallway went silent.

Jacob exhaled slowly.

Jimmy looked away.

Trinity’s eyes filled.

You stepped closer, your hand sliding into Jey’s.

He didn’t pull away.

Jacob picked up the Ula Fala again, holding it carefully.

“Listen,” he said, voice steady. “Whatever he said out there? Whatever he tryin’ to make it look like? That ain’t us. That ain’t family. Not the real kind.”

Jey finally blinked — just once — like the weight of the night had finally settled on him.

Jacob nodded toward him.

“We good, Uce. All of us.”

Jey didn’t answer.

But he didn’t walk away either.

And for now…

that was enough.

You and Trinity were still backstage, half‑leaning against a production crate, trying to decompress from the earlier chaos when the monitor switched to LA Knight in the ring.

Trinity groaned immediately.

“Oh Lord… here we go again.”

You crossed your arms, stomach tightening. You could feel it — that same storm‑pressure from earlier, but sharper now. More personal.

Jimmy appeared on the screen first, walking toward LA with his hands up, trying to keep things calm.

Trinity sighed. “He really tryna fix it… bless his heart.”

You nodded. Jimmy’s face was soft, apologetic, tired — the kind of tired that lived in his bones.

Then Jey’s music hit.

Your breath caught.

Trinity straightened instantly.

“Oh no. No no no. He ain’t ready for this.”

Jey walked out with that slow, deliberate swagger — but you could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t calm. He wasn’t collected.

He was triggered.

He slid into the ring, grabbed the mic, and said:

“Let me talk to you…”

You felt your chest tighten.

His voice was steady, but his shoulders were tense — too tense.

“What my brother is saying to you is right…”

Trinity whispered, “He’s trying too hard.”

You nodded.

You could see it — the way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers flexed around the mic, the way he kept glancing at Jimmy like he needed backup but didn’t want to ask for it.

Then he said it:

“I ain’t even out here for an apology, LA… I’m out here for one thing, Uce.”

Trinity’s eyes widened.

“Oh God. Don’t say it. Don’t say it—”

LA cut him off.

“Let me guess… you want me to acknowledge your little Tribal Chief?”

Jimmy looked confused on screen.

You felt your stomach drop.

Jey snapped back:

“Nah. I’m better than you, LA.”

Trinity slapped her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my God he’s spiraling.”

You whispered, “He’s not thinking. He’s reacting.”

Then Jey said it — the line that made your heart stop:

“So what I need your ASS to do… is acknowledge me.”

The crowd exploded.

Trinity stared at the monitor like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Oh he’s gone. He’s gone. He’s in Roman mode.”

You swallowed hard.

Because she was right.

The cadence.

The posture.

The tone.

It wasn’t Jey.

It was the version of him Roman built.

Jimmy squeezed Jey’s arm — a tiny, desperate grounding gesture the camera barely caught.

You whispered, “Please let that help…”

It didn’t.

LA raised his finger.

“Okay fine. I acknowledge you can kiss my ass.”

Trinity yelled at the monitor.

“OH HELL NO—”

Jey shoved LA.

LA shoved him back.

Jimmy jumped between them.

It didn’t matter.

The calm was gone.

Jimmy got pushed into the corner, helpless, watching his brother unravel.

You felt your throat tighten.

“Trin… he’s losing it.”

“I KNOW,” she snapped, eyes glued to the screen. “And Jimmy can’t stop him.”

Jey grabbed a steel chair.

Trinity gasped.

“Oh my God—”

Jimmy stepped in front of him.

“Use your brain, think—”

Jey shoved him.

You covered your mouth.

“Jey…”

LA kicked Jey down.

Jimmy ran in.

LA hit him with the chair too.

Trinity flinched like she felt it herself.

Then Jacob hit the ring.

Out of nowhere.

Tongan Death Grip.

LA Knight collapsed.

The crowd screamed.

The twins stared — shocked, breathless, confused.

Trinity whispered, “This family is gonna kill each other.”

You couldn’t speak.

Because you knew she was right.

The camera cut backstage.

Roman stood there, arms crossed, eyes cold.

“Did you handle him? LA Knight?”

Jacob nodded. “Yeah. I handled him. But the twins didn’t like it.”

Roman laughed — low, smug, cruel.

“Of course they didn’t. They don’t understand you like I do, Jacob.”

Trinity’s face twisted.

“Oh he’s disgusting.”

You felt sick.

Roman leaned in, whispering something to Jacob the camera didn’t catch.

Jacob nodded once.

And the screen faded.

Trinity exhaled shakily.

“This ain’t wrestling anymore,” she whispered. “This is war.”

You swallowed hard, staring at the blank monitor.

Because you knew exactly what she meant.

And you knew exactly who was going to break first.

Jacob found LA Knight sitting on a production crate with an ice pack pressed to his ribs, trainers hovering nearby. LA waved them off the second he saw Jacob approaching.

Jacob stopped in front of him, hands on his hips.

“You good?” he asked.

LA smirked through the pain.

“Yeah, I’m good, Fatu. I’ve had worse from a rental car door.”

Jacob snorted, shaking his head.

“I ain’t mean to go too hard. You know how it is out there.”

LA waved him off.

“Nah, nah, you straight. That’s business.”

But then LA’s expression shifted — not serious, but sharp. Observant.

“But your boys?” LA said, nodding toward the hallway the twins disappeared down. “They ain’t acting right.”

Jacob’s brows pulled together.

“What you mean?”

LA adjusted the ice pack.

“They went straight to the locker room. Didn’t say a word. Didn’t look at nobody. Trinity went with ’em.”

Jacob nodded slowly.

“Yeah… that sounds like them.”

But LA wasn’t done.

“And the other girl — the one that’s normally with y’all?”

Jacob turned slightly, expecting to see you behind him.

You weren’t.

LA raised a brow.

“She wasn’t with them.”

Jacob blinked.

“What?”

LA shrugged.

“I didn’t see her go with the twins. Didn’t see her with Trinity. Didn’t see her with you.”

Jacob’s jaw tightened.

“So where she go?”

LA shook his head.

“No clue. She walked off somewhere. Didn’t say nothin’. Didn’t look back. Looked pissed, though.”

Trinity, who had just rounded the corner, froze.

“Wait—she’s not with y’all?” she asked LA.

LA shook his head.

“Nope. Haven’t seen her since before the segment. Thought she dipped.”

Jacob muttered something sharp under his breath in Samoan.

Trinity’s eyes widened.

“Oh hell no… don’t tell me she went off by herself.”

LA shrugged again.

“Hey, I’m just saying — she disappeared. Nobody followed her. Nobody saw where she went.”

Jacob exhaled hard, rubbing his face.

“Damn it…”

Trinity crossed her arms.

“She better not have gone to do something stupid.”

Jacob didn’t answer.

Because the truth was?

He had no idea where you were.

No one did.

And that was the problem.

Roman’s locker room was dim and quiet, the kind of quiet that felt intentional — like he wanted the silence to intimidate you.

You didn’t knock.

You walked in.

Roman didn’t look up at first.

He was peeling the tape from his wrists, slow and controlled.

“You lost?” he asked.

“No,” you said. “I’m here to talk to you.”

That made him look up.

His eyes dragged over you, amused.

“What do you want?”

You stepped closer.

“You put your hands on Trinity again, I swear—”

Roman smirked.

“You swear what?”

“You better not ever try anything with her again. Or with Jimmy. Or with Jey. I’m not scared of you.”

Roman stood.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Towering.

“You should be.”

You didn’t back up.

“You’re petty. You’re manipulative. And you’re losing control.”

Roman’s jaw flexed.

Then he leaned in — close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath — and whispered:

“Little girl… you won’t even see me coming for you.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

But you didn’t flinch.

You turned to leave.

And just as you reached the door—

Roman whispered something else.

Low.

Sharp.

Too quiet to make out.

You froze for half a second, trying to catch it.

But you couldn’t.

You didn’t hear a single word.

And Roman smiled.

Back in the locker room

You walked in like nothing happened.

Like Roman hadn’t threatened you. Like he hadn’t whispered something you couldn’t hear. Like your hands weren’t still shaking.

Jey saw you first.

His whole face changed — relief, fear, anger, all crashing together.

He crossed the room and pulled you into him.

Not gentle.

Tight.

Like he needed to feel you breathing.

You buried your face in his chest, letting him hold you.

Jimmy was on the bench with Trinity in his lap, arms wrapped around her like he was grounding himself.

Jacob was on the phone with his wife, voice low and tired.

He hung up and grabbed his bag.

“Aight,” he said. “Let’s go. I’m done with tonight.”

Everyone agreed.

No one asked where you’d been.

No one noticed the tremor in your hands.

No one saw the way Jey kept glancing at you like he sensed something was wrong.

You all walked out together.

A family.

A fragile one.

A targeted one.

And none of you knew that something devastating would happen soon

The hotel room was quiet in that soft, late‑night way — the kind of quiet that only comes after a long, chaotic show. The kind of quiet that feels earned.

Jey was stretched out on the bed beside you, one arm tucked behind his head, the other lazily tracing circles on your hip. His eyes were half‑lidded, relaxed in a way he never let himself be around anyone else.

You shifted closer, and he smirked.

“What you doin’?” he murmured.

“Getting comfortable.”

He slid his hand to your waist and pulled you fully on top of him.

“That’s comfortable?”

You nodded.

He chuckled — low, warm — and suddenly his fingers dug into your sides.

You squealed.

“Jey—!”

He laughed harder, tickling you until you were breathless, squirming, trying to push his hands away.

“Stop! Stop! I’m gonna fall off the bed!”

He flipped you easily, rolling you underneath him, pinning your wrists gently above your head.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he said, grinning down at you.

Your heart fluttered.

He kissed you — slow, soft, lingering — then tucked you against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head.

His breathing evened out.

His arms stayed tight around you.

Like he needed you close to sleep.

Across the hall, Jimmy and Trinity were just as bad.

Trinity was curled up in Jimmy’s lap, her head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her waist. He kept kissing her temple, whispering something that made her giggle and swat at him.

“Boy, go to sleep,” she said.

“Can’t,” Jimmy murmured. “You too cute.”

Trinity rolled her eyes, but she didn’t move.

Jacob was in his room on the phone with his wife, voice soft, telling her he’d be home soon, that the night was crazy, that he missed her.

It was peaceful.

It was warm.

It was the first time all night the family felt like a family again.

And none of you knew it was the last calm moment you’d get.

The sun was barely up when you realized you’d left your phone in the car.

Jey was still asleep, one arm thrown across your waist, his face buried in your shoulder. You slipped out carefully, pressing a kiss to his forehead before grabbing your hoodie and heading downstairs.

The parking lot was quiet.

Too quiet.

You walked to your car, unlocked it, leaned inside to grab your phone from the cupholder.

When you turned around—

Your keys slipped from your hand.

They hit the pavement with a soft clink.

You bent down to pick them up.

A car engine revved.

Fast.

Close.

You looked up—

Headlights.

Blinding.

You didn’t even have time to scream.

The bumper slammed into your side, knocking you off your feet. Your head cracked against the pavement. The world spun, blurry and bright and wrong.

The car didn’t stop.

It sped off, tires screeching, disappearing around the corner.

You lay there, dazed, the sky tilting above you.

A door slammed somewhere nearby.

“HEY—HEY!” a voice shouted.

Solo.

He had been pulling into the lot, Rhea in the passenger seat, her knee wrapped in a brace.

Solo sprinted toward you, dropping to his knees.

“Stay with me,” he said, voice shaking. “Stay with me, girl.”

Rhea limped over as fast as she could, dropping beside you.

“Oh my God—Solo, call 911!”

He already was.

“Yeah, we need an ambulance—now! She got hit—she’s bleeding—she’s not waking up—”

Rhea grabbed your hand.

“Hey, hey, stay with us,” she whispered. “Don’t close your eyes.”

Your vision blurred.

Your ears rang.

You tried to speak, but nothing came out.

Solo’s voice cracked.

“Come on… come on…”

And somewhere inside the hotel, Jey was waking up to an empty bed.

To Be Continued

@trippinsorrows @acute-crashout-jeyuso @empressdede @punksyeet @uceyliyahh @femdisa @mytribalnightmare @eringobragh420 @southerngirl41 @officialeve24 @usoinked @bossbitch-22 @madhatterbri @purplementalitybluebird @bloodlinemadness @holycollectivekitty @jstarr86 @livslunaticdamiansdisciple18 @duhitzkay380 @bloodlinesbabe93 @theusotwinzcom @thebigredmonster @chynagirl13 @mamis-girly @transparentphantomface @amazinggirlsstuff @spiicii @mselenalovebug @sharmelasworld @moxley99 @crazylady20 @myleelovesfood @jeysbitch @skyesthebomb @fafomama @keenagurl @chocobuttabaybee @terrortwinunicorn @mamis-girly2 @lovelyjay45 @wwestrang-fan @bossbitch-25 @xnightmarexpunkx @ctinadiva @nash2023 @ztrek808 phoebe0391 @bigbackbri @armanihouse @bibonacita23 @scorpiodivazchamp @pruningthebreeze @dwill484 @rememberingvirgo

[trippinsorrows]

late nights

author’s note: was feeling crappy about how long updates for 'without you' take and decided to write this. it was an on the spot thing, so don't be expecting anything spectacular. also, i wanted it to be fluffy and angsty, but idk, reader and joe so nasty idk how to write them not being nasty. 😭 pairing: plussized!mistress!black!reader x roman reigns (joe) warnings: angst. fluff. smut. vaginal penetration. oral (male and female receiving) dirty talk. unprotected sex. slight anal play. infidelity. they're just freaks. idk what else to say. word count: 2.5k+ song inspo: ❝don't forget about us❞ by the mariah carey credit: photos from pinerest // dividers by @/cafekitsune

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⠀⠀⠀⠀© 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒™⠀

“You’re shy.”

Joe’s eyes flip open as he lowers his head just enough to focus on you. Blue locking with brown, but it’s the way his long, dark hair lays over his shoulders and across his chest that temporarily distracts you. Flashbacks of those beautiful tresses intertwined and locked between your fingers as you rode his face and once more as he fucked you up against the bathroom counter upon his arrival to the hotel exciting you for the next round.

Never mind the brief pang of soreness in between your legs. Inner thighs still damp, wet, and sticky from the latest round. 69. Hence the way you’re laid on your side, head propped up by your elbow towards the edge of the bed while he’s sat up against the headboard. The cream sheets covering his lap but not hiding the outline of his thick dick that you can already tell is slowly starting to harden once more. 

Good.

You wanna feel him come in your mouth at least one more time before you two call it a night.

“What?”

His deep voice breaks you from the silence of the room and swirling of NSFW thoughts. 

You roll your eyes. “I said you’re shy.” Your fingers tap against the sheets that you lazily pull to cover a portion of your exposed hip solely to shield your nude body from the chill of the room. The heat accumulated through frenzied fucking is starting to wane. “It’s cute.”

He chuckles and lifts his arm, one hand behind his head as he reclines deeper against the headboard you’re almost certain is one more round away from putting a hole in the wall. You make a mental note to tell him to put a pillow behind it before you two go at it again. “And you got this from what?”

“It’s an observation.” You shrug. “I mean, I noticed it a while ago, but I was watching you tonight interact with some of your fans—”

“Emphasis on some.”

A pause is taken solely to store the comment away for later revisiting. “And I could tell you were out of your element. Almost uncomfortable. You’re clearly introverted.”

Given that you’ve been to a handful of his shows already, it’s an observation you’d made relatively early on. But something about tonight, seeing the almost indecision he presented with in some of the interactions with fans like yourself that were granted a chance to meet him, it more or less confirmed it. 

“Don’t worry,” you added, bitting down on your bottom lip. “I think it’s cute.” 

“Cute?”

You adjust your body, fully aware of how his eyes temporarily shift to your dark nipples with a renewing hunger. “Yeah, I mean, it’s not often you meet a fine ass man with a big dick and every reason to be a cocky son of a bitch have your disposition. It’s nice.”

Joe makes a sound, eyes shutting once more. “I like to get a read on people before I open up, I guess.”

“That makes sense. I can’t relate, but—”

“Yeah, shy is a word I would never use to describe you. Not really me, either, but—”

“Oh, you’re definitely shy, Mr. Anoa’i,” you snort, pointing to yourself as if he can see it. “But me? Naw. For what? I’m fine as fuck. I have no reason to be.” 

And neither does he, but that’s just him, so you’ll leave it be.

You watch the way his eyes open and full lips—those same lips you can still feel sucking and slurping on your clit like he’d been waiting for it all day—stretch into a sly smile. “You always been this confident?”

“Hell yeah.” His grin widens, as you list it off with all the ease in the world. “I’m pretty as hell, ass fat, titties big, and my pussy is top tier?” It’s that last one that makes him chuckle, something flashing in those blue contacts that, right now, you’re not a fan of. “Baby, God didn’t make me this fine for me to be on some shy shit.”

Nor insecure, because if there’s one thing you’ve never been able to relate to is big girls struggling with body insecurity. You understand it, sure, but it’s never once been a struggle of yours. You’ve never once looked in the mirror, fully clothed or butt ass naked, and didn’t like what you saw. Maybe…maybe once or twice, but nine times out of ten, nothing has ever reflected back except a bad bitch.

And when people make comments about fat girls and bigger bodies, it always makes you laugh, snort, roll your eyes, or a combination of them all. Because at the end of the day, no man has ever put you out of the bedroom, and no one ever will cause the fuck you look like granting a lame ass nigga premier pussy when his dick ain’t even big enough to not fall out when you bouncing on it?

“That’s one of the first things that attracted me to you, you know.” You look over at him as he starts to dance those talented fingers of his up your calf. “Your confidence.”

“Not my tits?”

“Those, too.”

You playfully kick him. He chuckles. “I’m serious. I love how you’re unapologetically yourself. Like you don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks.”

“That’s cause I don’t.” Never have. Never will. As long as you’re good with you, your mama is proud of you, and you do right in the eyes of the Lord, everyone else is irrelevant. “And neither should you, you know.” 

Your interest in wrestling prior to ever even meeting Joe was nothing close to the fanatic level. You still enjoyed it as an adult, but not nearly as much as you did when you were a kid. But you knew enough to know about the basic facts and major storylines. Even more, you knew enough to know how massively pushed Joe, Roman, was being right now. Unfortunately, the push against him by the fans seems just as strong.

If not stronger.

It was one thing for him to briefly mention certain things, or for a clip to come across your Instagram feed. But it was entirely different to see these things in person. To hear them.

Some of the cruel, hurtful, awful things hurled at him. And if it’s not words, then it’s items. And the boo’s. God, it’s hard for you to tell which is worse and which pisses you off more. On more than one occasion you’ve had to stop yourself from catching a charge and causing a scene. You’ve always had the golden rule of never ever fighting over a man, but they were pushing it.

And it wasn’t even for the traditional reasons women throw hands behind their ain’t shit niggas. It was….it was just wrong. To treat Joe the way some of these “fans” do is borderline inhumane. It makes you sick to your stomach. 

But if you feel this way as someone who hasn’t even known the man for a whole year, who’s not even the one being crucified the way he is, you can’t imagine how it must be for him.

He doesn’t talk about it a whole lot—save that lil’ comment from a few minutes prior—but you don’t know any human being who wouldn’t be at least a little affected by such hate.

Especially when it’s unwarranted. 

“Only miserable ass people with dry pussies and micro penises come at someone so hard for just doing their damn job,” you continue, moving to sit up on the bed, reaching for his shirt to pull over your body. It’s more than certain to be ripped off before the end of the hour, but there’s something about his scent….hence why you may or may not have started to hoard a collection of his items back at your place. “It’s pathetic, and it says everything about them and nothing about you, Joe.” 

His gaze remains on you as you climb across the bed and straddle his lap. His hands are on your hips as yours go to play with the ends of his long hair. “I’m serious.”

He chuckles quietly. “So are they.”

You’re quick with the rebuttal, flicking his chest. “Well, they’re fucking idiots, and fuck you look like factoring in the opinions of the musty and unloved?” 

The smile you hadn’t realized briefly disappeared is returned. “The what?”

“I thought it was maybe just the show we met at, but these folks stank. Are they all allergic to Dial and deodorant or something?” It’s both a rhetorical and serious question. As someone who’s always prided yourself on smelling good, the constant assault by the funk of these unwashed people will always be the biggest “con” of attending his shows. It’s why you mostly prefer to stay backstage these days. “Just nasty. Literally and figuratively.”

Once more, he shakes his head and lifts his hands to your back, tugging you closer. Your arms wrap around his neck as his smile dims and eyes narrow softly. “You’re really good at this, you know?”

Your brow lifts as you once again start to twirl curly locs around your fingers. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, big boy. I’m good at a lot of things.”

“That’s true.” He offers zero disagreement before supplying the answer. The delivery surprisingly soft for his deep voice. “At making me feel better.”

It takes you by surprise only for a second. Talking to people is something that’s always come natural and easy to you. Offering encouragement, however, in an effective and actually helpful way has never been as simple as some might think. Far too often people think that they’re being helpful only to be making things minimally to significantly worse. You’ve always done your best to avoid causing unintended harm, some of which has been helped greatly by your job. Kids always require a higher level of delicacy than adults.

But you’d also be lying to yourself if you tried to deny that there’s always been something so….natural about speaking with Joe. Easy. The conversation never grows stale and the flow never feels stagnant. Conversations with men in general have always been hit or miss for you. Far too often, whatever appeal existed is squashed the moment they open their mouth and say some stupid shit.

Not Joe.

He’s as well spoken as he is thoughtful. That subtle pause before he answers indication of actual pondering vs automatic verbal release. You’ve always appreciated that about him. That he actually thinks before he speaks. A rare characteristic to find with men. Especially fine ass men. 

I wonder if that’s one of the things his wi—

Almost instantly, you shove it away. That thought that often tries to force its way to the surface, having found success a few times. But the more time you spend with Joe, the closer you two become, the easier it is to silence said thoughts.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to silence the voice entirely. 

“Well….” You trail off in conjunction with your fingers trailing down his chest with one hand, the other reaching behind you. “There are several ways I know how to make you feel better.”

His gaze shifts and jaw clenches when you find him. Warm and pulsing in your palm, your thumb glides over the slit on his dickhead. Your saliva production quadruples at the anticipation of having him in your mouth and pussy once more. “You wanna clarify?”

You start to gently stroke him up and down, aiding in the revival of his erection that’s almost entirely returned. 

Except, once again, you’re reminded that this man matches your energy in a way no one else has before. He eases his hand under the shirt, reaching and playing with your titties before returning down south to dance his fingers down your pelvis, stopping just when he’s about to spread your pussy lips apart. 

“The thing that makes you feel just as good.” 

His smug statement, however, draws your playful glare as you continue to work your hand around his thick length. “Don’t get cock—”

A sharp gasp escapes your mouth when his other hand moves to the back of your head, his fingers intertwined in your kinky coils you pulled up and out of the way the minute he told you to get on your knees before you two even made it to the shower. You bite down on your lip, feeling your pussy flutter and pulse when he roughly yanks you towards him. “Exactly.” Your eyes flutter shut as you start to writhe on top of him when his other hands continues to toy with your slick opening. “Stop talking and start sucking.”

The joy at his command is matched only by the glee you feel at having your desire fulfilled. He doesn’t need to tell you twice. 

You pull away and tug his shirt off, tossing it on the floor before you twist your body to the position that preceded the brief respite. You scoot and slide your body back as much as you can, feeling the way he also begins to ease down on the bed so he’s on his back. Your eyes gleam with hunger and need as you lick your lips at the sight of his pretty ass dick. Fully erect, tip flushed, and pre-cum seeping out the slit. 

A muffled groan is released as you lean over and travel the length of his cock with your nose, inhaling the scent of him. Of both of you. Your mixed, mingled juices. The tip of your tongue traces around his dickhead and up the base as you collect as much of the remnants from the previous round before getting right to it

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, and it’s music to your ears. Something about being able to bring a man to such a vulnerable place while simultaneous getting off from the pleasure you receive from giving head is always gon’ be just the thing that does it for you. “Keep going, baby.”

You moan, mouth full of his dick, releasing him to kiss and suck on his balls. “Hmm. Does that feel good, big boy? You like the way I suck this big dick?”

You’re rewarded with a slap and jiggle to your ass that makes you smile before you return his length back into your mouth, eyes shutting and watering when he hits the back of your throat as you bob your head up and down, deep throating him.

“I fucking love it.” You wiggle your ass back against him when he spreads your cheeks and his tongue swipes a single line up your ass crack, tip of said tongue circling your hole. It entices another moan following the feel of his fingers spreading your pussy lips as he returns the favor, burying his face in your cunt, inhaling and groaning. “God, you taste so fucking good.”

You smile, drool seeping out the corner of your mouth as you continue to work him with your mouth. Once more a respite is evoked only as he moves his big arms around your hips and ass, clearly getting and putting you in place. “Show me how good, daddy,” you moan, palms flat and gripping at his thighs as he pulls you back so that you’re smothering his face. Good. “Eat my pussy, and tell me how good it tastes. How much you love it.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

[one-fall-to-a-finish]

Some Jey Uso fan service for the Jey Uso fans

[passion4ruit]

softer, harder, in-between. / jey uso.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

pairing: jey uso/black!fem reader, (slight roman reigns/black!fem reader)

word count: 11k+ (i need help.)

warnings: smut!!!!! MDNI. (kids, go color or blow bubbles) infidelity like a mf. homie-hopping or rather…cousin-hopping. period sex (sorry if that’s not your thing!)

description: jey comes to your aide in a time of need, being the only one possessing the knowledge to soothe you properly…

this is PART TWO to the roman-centric fic i posted a week ago. very much advise you to read that first, if you haven’t! 🫡

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

“Yo, this lil’ attitude of yours needs to be fixed.”

The words spark an inkling of anxiety deep in your gut, eyes flying wide open, caught. Roman stands across from you in the open parking garage of tonight’s arena, thick arms folded over his chest as he stares down at you. He brought you out here to talk but you didn’t think he’d call you out like this.

Warily, you scan the area for any passersby or eavesdroppers, when you find none, only then do you level Roman with a raised brow. “What do you mean?”

He sighs, eyes rolling just a tad. “Baby, you been huffing and puffing all day…and the day before that…and the day before that. Somethin’ you gotta tell me, is there somethin’ wrong?”

His tone is warm and kind, yet somehow the words land poorly with you. There was nothing wrong. Why would something ever be wrong?

Roman senses your agitation immediately, broad shoulders tensing up like he was sizing up Brock Lesnar rather than his loving girlfriend. The relationship is still fresh, and though you’ve known him for so long, it dawns on him that he’s never seen you in a mood before. But as of late, it’s like all you’re ever in is a mood. A stank ass mood. One he’s growing weary of.

This needs to be handled, now.

“What makes you say that, Roman?” It’s your turn to cross your arms over your chest, hip cocked as you narrow your eyes up at him. “Ain’t no huffing and puffing over here, baby.”

But there has been. Everywhere he turns, there you are, face screwed up in frustration. Whether it’s stomping around his expansive house or slamming the car door shut before he even can get to the passenger side and customarily open it for you. And don’t let it be that damned phone.

He wonders just what it is you’re seeing on there that gets you so worked up—the amount of times he’s caught you unlocking it, seeing whatever it is that pissed you off, and then quite literally launching it elsewhere is one time too many for him to continue letting this slide.

He tried to be good about it, wanting to trust you to tell him what’s been grating at you lately but you never confide in him. Just walk around with a black cloud looming over where the usual halo is. His precious girl is not only upset but she’s withholding.

And shit like that just doesn’t sit well with men like Roman.

“Is it me, baby?” He continues to implore, brown eyes wide versus the slits you’re glaring at him through. If it is him, somehow, he’s willing to almost grovel just to get you back to where you’re your usual happy, smiling self. When’s the last time you laughed? What a sobering thought to have, even more to struggle to come up with an answer. “Did I do somethin’—what I do?”

But the kind tone only seems to further aggravate you, wild curls flying to and fro as you shake your head, muttering under your breath while your gaze travels in the distance. There are bags under your eyes, beneath the concealer meant to hide them. He’s clocked the way your frame looks slimmer, too—a result of the pushed away plates and half-eaten snacks he manages to coax you into trying. You’re still beautiful as ever, but you look off.

Something is off.

“Look, Joe,” and this is another warning bell in the back of his head—you rarely call him by his government name; only baby or Roman or Ro or a playful Daddy, even, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about, okay? You didn’t do anything. I’m good.”

And, yeah, Roman doesn’t believe he’s the culprit for your poor mood but, still, he feels responsible. You’re his. He’s to be held accountable for anything involving you.

“Okay, so it’s not me—but it is something. Don’t you think I know you enough by now, huh? You’re not good.” And this lands. He sees it in the way you flinch at the word. How your eyes water within a second. “Baby, c’mon,” he pleads further, sounding less of a champion and more like a man who’s pained by his partner’s pain. “I can’t work until I know what’s going on with you.”

A long pause rises and stretches between you two. One that’s filled with the sound of turning wheels and squeaking tires. Absent-mindedly, Roman’s eyes drift over to the entrance of the parking garage to see a tour bus rolling through for the night. And on the side of that bus? None other than the grinning face of his cousin, blown up and displayed like a billboard.

His gaze darts back to your face, how you clocked the bus the same time he did. And then it all starts to make sense, especially with how your face crumples in such a startling show of grief before you quickly school your pretty features back into nothing. Though your eyes are just about to spill over now, the sickly overhead lighting making the unshed tears appear like diamonds rather than anguish.

Roman’s chest feels tight. “Baby, is th—”

“You know what? You’re right, Roman. I’m not good. I’m fuckin’ awful.” And he knows you’re not talking about your feelings but rather yourself, as a person. “I’m going back inside now. I have to work, okay?”

And then you’re off, stomping away back inside the venue in those tall ass Loubotins he bought you just because. He could catch you, walk you down and make you admit to what you’re actually feeling. But he likes to think of himself as a gracious person. He don’t need to force you to say it. Everything you just did already has.

Had he not been so caught up with work, with getting The Bloodline back on top of the mountain, Roman probably would’ve easily caught on. And it makes his fucking stomach turn to know that his girl is worrying herself sick over another man. That she’s not eating, sleeping or even smiling because she’s so torn up about someone that’s not him.

You were mourning him. Jey.

Hard-headed ass Jey who didn’t even have the decency to meet your fucking eyes whenever you two even occupied the same room. Really? You were losing weight over a grown ass man who knew what it was and was hurt for no damn reason. Who took out his crybaby ass feelings on you by ignoring you, blocking you on everything, and acting as if y’all weren’t best friends for a fucking decade.

Roman slowly returns to the tour bus, to that wide smile and simmers.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Little did Roman know you were also on your damn period and so miserable with the symptoms that the Jey problem only felt that much more burdensome.

In a dark corner backstage, there you are, doubled over at the waist in your pretty dress and high heels. Your cycle was always hell when it came around, only four times a year thanks to birth control, but brutal each quarter it came to visit. The last time you spent it most of it curled up under the covers, not at home but at…Jey’s home.

He knew better than most how badly you suffered and if he was available whenever you were on, it had been his personal mission to watch over you and do whatever he could to ease the pain and take your mind off the discomfort. He was so warm that last time, holding you close to him, bare-chested and strong, while you laid in his bed. It was his heartbeat that lulled you to sleep between the painful waves of cramping.

You didn’t have to lift a finger around him that week. He cooked every meal, cleaned every mess, provided every comfort. Hell, his presumptuous ass even went on to answer work calls for you, excusing your absence as professionally as possible.

You miss that. And you, being selfish and fucking careless, messed that all up.

You had been so angry at first—you couldn’t get in touch with him at all. He even went so far as to tell Trin and Jim and even fucking Solo not to bother telling him how you badly you needed to just talk to him. One thoughtless mistake of leaving your location on resulted in being completely iced out by the one person you never expected such treatment from.

He wasn’t supposed to do this to you. Did you mean nothing to him? Was it all a lie? You being his best girl? That he would always, always be there for you? Where was he now? Did he even care?

“Shit…” you hiss under your breath, hand flying to your lower stomach, crouching down to endure the rolling wave of pain.

Tears rush to your eyes, feeling so pathetic and low. You love being out in the ring but it’s the last thing you want to do tonight. At least the show is in Tampa tonight and you could gratefully just drive home rather than having to fly or get on a bus. Roman might feel put out but you were definitely going to your place after.

But, first, work.

Mustering all the strength you possess you manage to get to your feet. After steeling yourself with a few deep breaths, you stalk out of the shadows and into the usual chaos of a Monday night. Many familiar faces greet you during your walk, you’re stopped by the occasional hugger—Liv, Je’von, Becky—but carry on, eager to just get the work done.

You ponder stopping by Roman’s dressing room but think better of it, considering the earlier frustration. There’s still time to kill before showtime, so you wander towards catering, though you’re not really hungry. Almost instantly, you breathe out a sigh of relief to see Jim occupying a table further back.

No matter how his twin feels about you, Jim still loves you. And this you know by the wide grin that stretches his handsome face when he glances up at your approach. “Heyyy, girl! Come sit and keep me company—ain’t shit goin’ on right now.”

You ease down beside him in the chair he pulls out for you, trying not to wince at the newest cramp. But, perceptive as ever, Jim notices the uneasy pull at your mouth and asks through a mouthful of food, “you alright, sis?”

Not fucking really. “Yeah, I’m cool,” you lie, shooting an unimpressed look at his plate of random pickings before shrugging off the concern in his stare. “Just fuckin’ tired, uce,” you sigh heavily.

“Don’t I know it,” he says sympathetically before pushing his plate over at you. “Try that.”

You frown at the food before giving him a side-eye. “Not interested in your plate of whatever-the-fuck.”

Jim smacks his lips, so reminiscent of his brother that it pulls at your heart. “Man, girl, don’t act like you don’t see that brisket right there. And it’s smackin’ too! I’mma definitely give my compliments to the chef.”

You do love brisket… None are ever as good as your father’s but still. “It ain’t my daddy’s brisket, though.”

“Aye, no lie Pops be puttin’ his foot in it. That one Easter when he came down and threw down? I can still taste them greens...”

Your lips twitch at the memory. Inspired by the fact your family managed to find time to visit you for the holiday, you hosted an Easter get-together some years back. Your dad insisted on cooking some of his famous dishes, not wanting you to do all the work. Jey did a lot of the heavy-lifting that day, too. He and your dad hit off over the grill. Even now, your father always finds a way to mention Jey, holding the younger Uso in high-esteem.

Maybe that’s why you haven’t talked to him lately. Lord knows you’ve been avoiding his calls like the plague.

“Plus, you lookin’ skinny and shit these days,” Jim continues, breezing by your offended gasp. “Don’t wanna lose what your fine ass mama gave ya!”

“First of all, Jonathan,” you point a finger in his face, “stop callin’ my mama fine before I tell Trin on yo’ nasty ass. And, secondly, I am very much still thick, thank you for your concern.”

Jim picks up his fork, stabbing a piece of brisket that does actually look juicy and tender, before holding it out to you. “I don’t care if I gotta damn feed you like a baby. Bite it.”

You level a scathing look at him but Jim only continues to smile, waiting patiently for you to fold. “You so damn irritating, man,” you say after a while, leaning forward to bite off the fork. Admittedly it is good and Jim gives you a see? look as he watches you chew before picking up another piece and holding it out again. “Man, whatever,” you concede after another bite, shoving at his shoulder.

Out of the corner of Jim’s eye, a figure looms at the entrance of catering and he doesn’t even have to look to know who it is. But you’re unaware of this, allowing Jim to actually feed you—anything to take your mind off the nauseating cramps. The voyeur scowls at the sight of you and Jim, too close for their liking before turning around and leaving before you can even catch on.

“You doing good, uce,” Jim continues to encourage, pushing down the possible mess that could occur later on to focus on you. He sees you like a little sister and Roman didn’t even have to confide in him about the recent poor eating habits for him to notice the sort of gaunt look about you. He also knew instantly the cause of it and even if he couldn’t convicne Jey to just hear you out, the least he could do was make sure you didn’t fucking pass out at work. “Tasty, right?”

On your end, it is nice to be cared for in such a gentle manner. If you closed your eyes a little and pretended it was his twin instead, well that’s your business. Once the initial disinterest wears off, Jim gets up and finds more things to pile on the plate before returning and coaxing you to try different things, all the while texting Roman under the table about your progress.

“Okay, okay,” you raise your hands after a while, leaning back from the table in surrender. “I can't be bloated on TV. I’m already on my period, uce.”

Jim nods and throws the fork down, satisfied with how much you consumed. “Feel better, right?”

You take a beat, rubbing a hand over your belly before nodding. You were actually full for once. “Yeah, thanks,” you say, a little sheepish.

Jim waves you off, coming to his feet, sending a quick she did good off to Roman before grabbing the picked over plate. “You good, girl. That’s what us Samoans do—we feed you.”

“Oh, I know,” you snort, pushing away from the table and getting to your feet. “Anyways, gotta prepare for the show. I’ll see you out there, Big Jim!”

Jim lets you go with a hug and good luck, relieved to see how even your walk looks lighter now. Once you’re gone, does he pull out his phone again and continue texting your boyfriend.

told me she was on her period. probs why she been trippin lately idk

damn… i remember josh saying before that her periods are debilitating, that he would have to sometimes pick her up off the damn floor because of her cramps and shit.

yeah that’s right. uce would actually go over and take care of her and shit. cook and everything. you know his ass only really like to grill, so it must be bad for her.

something gotta give, jon. i mean it’s awesome you were able to have her eat but she don’t sleep man. she barely fucking laughs. and he’s just gon keep ignoring her? disrespecting her? that’s weak.

idk man, josh got pride. we all do, and he’s hurt. i know they wasn’t together or whatever but it’s still kinda messy. cmon man you can admit that.

not as messy as only using her for body when times get fucking tough with whichever bitch he’s fucking. it was casual. i would’ve never pushed up on her if it wasn’t. but it’s too late now, she mine and i gotta look out for her.

casual for her, maybe…

well, that’s not her fucking problem. not ever.

ok man. look i love yall both. she loves yall both. let’s just all get it together. we family.

of course, family. see you later in gorilla. make sure josh big headed ass is there on time.

hold up, if he got a big head wtf do i got?

a big ass fucking head 😂

man, alright. 😭

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

The show goes off without a hitch. The Bloodline does their thing, Jacob now thrown in the mix and made to acknowledge The Tribal Chief, making the crowd go wild.

As usual, Jey doesn’t acknowledge you. You sit there on the sidelines, in your corner, smiling back whenever Roman, Jim or Jacob manage to catch your eye out of the camera shot. Jey would always seek you out, both of you pulling faces and mouthing to each other. But he only ever turns his back to you, now.

At a loss, you sigh and shuffle out of the way towards backstage once the show starts to wrap up, desperate to just get home. The cramps still come and go but your boobs are sore as fuck and, shamefully, the worst period symptom began to sneak up on you halfway through the show.

Around the second or third day of your cycle you are overcome with none other than arousal. Always. Like clockwork. The most unsexy time of your life and here you are, lowkey wanting to get it on. It’s almost as bad as when you ovulate, perhaps it’s worse because wanting it feels forbidden.

It’s because of this that you consider finding Roman and going back home with him, but here’s the thing: Roman doesn’t know this about you. He’s never been around for your period. He doesn’t know how bad it can get. And, truthfully, you don’t want to scare him off. It’s not that you think he’d call you disgusting and break up with you right then and there, but saying it out loud isn’t easy.

How to tell your boyfriend that even if you are gushing blood, you still want him inside you? You’re better off taking care of this on your own. One day, you’ll make him privy to your heightened arousal during the middle of your cycle but it won’t be today. Especially when you’ve been acting so weird with him as of late.

But you can’t just leave without finding him first and saying goodbye. So, you wait in the parking garage, leaning against your car, thankful you had half a mind to insist that both of you drive to work separately. You’d feel bad riding with Roman tonight, knowing that he’d be dropping you off home before leaving to his place without you.

As you’re still waiting, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, a crushing wave of pain assaults you. Not only just rolling through your lower belly but your lower back, too. You wince a little too loud, phone clattering to the ground as you double over and try to breathe through it. Fuck, the back cramps are the worst.

“Yo!” Someone shouts but you’re too busy moaning and aching to lift your head. Fresh tears rise up and before you can even think to raise a hand and wipe them away, they start to fall. Why does it always have to hurt so bad?

“Girl, what the hell is wrong witchu?” A familiar voice mutters on the approach. “Hell nawl, c’mere,” and then you’re being hauled up on your feet, in the embrace of none other than Jacob. His brows are all bunched up in worry as he looks over you. “Talk to me, what’s happenin’?”

You’re still crying, eyes all blurry but you can still see how scared he looks. “Hurts…” you groan, head rolling back onto his shoulder.

“Aye, uce! Get over here, man!” The urgency in Jacob’s tone has a pair of feet thudding in your direction. Running. For you. “Tell us, what hurts?”

Us. You peer over Jacob’s shoulder at the newcomer, already knowing who it is because of that familiar scent. His favorite cologne. Jey.

His eyes are wide and a little frantic when he sees how pained you are. Immediately, he’s shouldering in and taking Jacob’s place, cradling you close as if no time has passed at all. Of course, you start to sob into his chest like a baby.

“It’s okay,” he shushes you, hand fervently running your back, your arms, whatever he could reach in efforts to soothe you. “Aye, Jake, what’s the date again?”

Jacob, confused, pulls out his phone and reads it off. “June 3rd—why?”

Jey gets quiet and even through your agony you can tell he’s doing the mental math, cursing under his breath once he realizes the problem. It’s then he shifts so he can look you in the eye, the concern so open and deep that it has you crying almost harder. You missed him. “How long you been on, mama?”

“It’s the second day,” you whimper, a little embarrassed to be doing this in front of Jacob’s watchful eyes. His dark eyes dart between you and his big cousin, a silent understanding brewing.

Jey makes a sound of sympathy, pretty brown eyes taking in every inch of your aggrieved face, as if he missed you, too. “Does he know?”

“If he does, I didn’t tell him yet.” Jey makes a certain face at that. “It just didn’t come up,” you explain in the face of his judgment. “I’m waiting for him now.”

Jey shakes his head. “Nah, fuck that. He’s held up with Hunter, anyway. I’m taking you home right now,” he decides before you can protest. He holds you tight as he turns over his shoulder and regards Jacob seriously. “Anybody ask, she with me for tonight, uce. Ion give a fuck what they say either, you can take the bus if you want.”

Jacob looks between you and him for a long moment before raising his hands. “Cool with me. Y'all be careful,” and then he gazes upon you, taking in your crumpled form, how you hold onto Jey like a lifeline, “and you get better, aight? Josh gon’ take care of you.”

“I know,” you sniffle, burrowing your face deeper into Jey’s chest, not catching how it makes the man freeze before squeezing you tighter. “Tell Roman not to worry, please.”

Jacob vows, “I will,” at the same time Jey mutters, “He should be fuckin’ worried.”

The two cousins give each other looks, a silent communication, before Jacob turns and leaves without another word. Once he’s gone, Jey goes into action mode, taking your keys out of your bag and unlocking the car. He’s careful in leading you to the passenger side and even more gentle in helping you settle into your seat. The whole time he’s mumbling soft assurances that you’re gonna be okay and that he’s got you and that you don't have to worry.

You just lean your head on the cool window, eyes fluttering shut as you continue to battle against the aching. Outside the car, Jey finds your phone discarded on the ground and makes quick work of unlocking it with your passcode to set it on Do Not Disturb. After that, he’s popping the trunk and grabbing his and your bags to toss them inside.

You don’t even realize how much time passes by because when you open your eyes again, Jey’s driving, speeding down the highway in effort to get you home. “Jey?”

His eyes slide over to you, a warm hand sliding up from where it was sitting on your knee to your tummy. The warmth of it makes you breathe slowly in small relief. “Yeah, baby?”

“Any word from Roman?”

No. Just one menacing laughing emoji. Jey doesn’t even really fucking care how Roman feels. He only cares about how you feel.

“No,” and he sees the frown on your face, the pull of your bottom lip between your teeth, “but it’s cool, baby, don’t worry about it. I got you now. You can get some more rest. We still got another 40 minutes on this road, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree softly, your hand coming up to hold his. Unable to help it, you admit, “I missed you, and I’m sorry.”

Jey sighs deeply, squeezing your hand. “I know. Missed you, too, okay? We don’t gotta talk about this right now. Rest. I’mma take care of you like I always do.”

And what a fucking relief. Something deep inside you comes to life, fluttering like a baby dove’s wings, as you recall the many times Jey has pushed everything to the side to take care of you during times like this. The things he’s done. It’s selfish of you, especially now, but you never want to go without it.

Your satisfied groan as you lean back into your seat has a smirk rising at the corner of Jey’s mouth. He’ll be just as selfish as you are.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

“Wake up, baby, we here.”

The little nap you took feels like the first step towards the reset you so desperately need. Jey is there, looming above you through the open passenger door, already unbuckling your seatbelt before you can finish yawning. Through bleary eyes you notice that instead of your modest but elegant townhouse, you’re in the driveway of Jey’s house and you’re frowning as he scoops you up into his arms, gently kicking the door closed behind him and locking the car.

“Jey, I thought I was going home,” you mumble, a little whiny even though you feel just as comfortable here as you do your own abode.

The front door is already cracked open and when Jey pushes through, you notice your bags are already inside. “You are home, girl,” he tells you, pushing back against the door to close it, still carrying you all the while as if your feet don’t work. “You gon get the best care here, with me. And it all starts with me taking you upstairs so you can rinse off, don’t that sound nice?”

Yes. You feel gross and Lord knows you need to change this damn tampon. So, you remain quiet as Jey trudges all the way upstairs and to his master bedroom where stalks through the massive space all the way to the conjoining bathroom. It’s there he finally dips down so you can stand, handing off your purse—that you hadn’t even realized was slung over his shoulder the entire time—to you.

“Thank you,” you mumble, suddenly finding it hard to meet his caring gaze.

“You welcome, baby,” he drawls sweetly, secretly eating up the suddenly shy attitude. “I’mma have you all set up by the time you come out, alright? Take your time.”

You nod obediently, at a loss for words at the 180. He didn’t talk to you for weeks. Now he’s back to being his usual, loving self? Your head is going to start spinning soon.

Jey leaves you be, shutting the door behind him. You sigh heavily, digging into your purse for your phone but frowning to discover it not there. You know you didn’t leave it, that Jey wouldn’t let you but it’s imperative that you get in touch with Roman ASAP.

But, first, Jey’s shower is calling to you.

You make quick work of stripping before sitting on the toilet and taking care of your bloody business. Once that’s all handled, you start the shower, setting the temperature to just shy of Hell. Under the stream, your mind goes quiet, only focused on yourself and, well, Jey.

Imma take care of you like I always do…

Words that linger in the forefront of your mind. Words that bring up memories of just how Jey took care of you, then.

Fuck…

I truly am the most selfish bitch alive, you think to yourself snidely before unceremoniously snaking a hand down your front and finding your clit. Just a quick orgasm won’t hurt, right? Right.

Already, you’re so sensitive that you know it won’t be long before you’re coming. You close your eyes and lean into it, the feeling. You try to keep it down, working yourself desperately, needing this. But it’s hard to. You just have to rely on the sounds of the spray and your teeth digging into your bottom lip to muffle your moans and sighs.

Though you had been in a weird, almost despondent period lately, sex with Roman never stopped. In fact, it’s what you fell back on when you’d start awake in the middle of the night and his warm, willing body was next to you. It’s how you got through the days of worrying yourself sick over Jey, whether or not you’d ever be able to be friends again. You’d just fuck the living shit out of your man and try not to think of him, push it all down in favor of Roman’s body.

But it never really did anything other than make you ache for someone out of reach all the more. Belatedly, you realize that kind of behavior is very much like Jey’s past behavior. Sex instead of talking. Fucking instead of facing the music.

You care for Roman, though. You really, really do. So it can’t be the same because you’re not using him, he’s yours.

“You almost done, baby!? Not rushing you, just checking.”

The sound of Jey’s voice through the door has you gasping, snatching your hand away and pushing down the beginnings of a good, much-needed orgasm. You hold back a whine as you shout over the water, “yeah, be out in a minute!”

“Alright, no hurry!”

But now you are in a hurry, because that line of thinking paired with what you were just doing is no good. You have to stop.

Desperate to get away from it, you speed through the rest of your shower, making good on feeling clean and less gross. Only then do you shut off the water and finally step out, grabbing the nearest clean towel to wrap yourself up in.

You hadn’t expected Jey to be there in the bedroom when you walk out but he is, lighting incense at the bedside table. Soft R&B music plays lowly in the background and there’s a pair of wine glasses already filled with red on the nightstand.

Jey catches you over his bare shoulder, nothing but a towel on with raised brows at the scenery, at his grey-sweatpants and lack of a shirt. It’s his turn to appear sheepish now. “My fault,” he offers a lopsided smile, goofy and charming all at once, “I wasn’t supposed to be in here until after you changed.”

You snort, eyes falling on the humongous shirt—his—and pair of boxers—also his—laid out for you. “Uh-huh,” you say dryly, making him chuckle, “nothing you haven’t seen before, Mr. Uso—just turn around real quick.”

Jey lifts his hands, swiveling on his feet. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy,” you murmur, for reasons unknown to you, dropping the towel before heading over to the bed.

“Don’t play with me,” Jey warns you, triggering excitement you have no business feeling.

You giggle, sliding the boxers up your legs and wiggling into the shirt. “What’s with the wine?”

Jey shrugs, still turned away. “You need to relax, ma. I see you—you look…different.” And his voice turns a touch softer. “Twin made you eat today.”

“You saw that?” Shame swirling in your gut. God, how pathetic did you appear to him? “Don’t worry about that, it’s noth—”

“But it is something, baby.” A deep withering sigh. “Can I turn now?”

“Yes…”

When he does, his eyes are full of remorse and anguish. “At first, I’m not gonna lie—you know how I am—seein’ you with twin like that, the first thing I felt was anger. Y’all was too damn close, but then I really looked at you, and baby…I’m sorry.”

“Damn, I look that terrible?” You scoff, the sound deprecating.

Jey breaches the space between you, scooping your hands into his to stare you deep in the eyes. “You don’t ever look terrible, baby, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just you looked…not yourself. And while I’m over here sulking and pretending I don’t care about you, you’re having a hard time. That shit is weak, on my part. I may not be all the way okay with whatever it is you got goin’ on with uce but you don’t deserve that. Okay?”

You try to control it, you really do, but the last few weeks have been miserable. Jey is a presence in your life you never want to take for granted. You’re starting to think you need him. The gravity of that has your face crumpling and your eyes welling up. Jey is wrapping his arms around you before the first tear can fall.

“Don’t cry, baby—we’ll figure it out,” he assures you with a kiss to your forehead. “No matter what. Nobody can take you from me.”

You clutch him tighter at the sound of that. It’s wrong for you to think it but mine, mine, mine is all that’s going through your brain. He feels just like you do.

“Okay, give me that wine,” you break away with a sniffle, rubbing at your nose. Jey laughs, brushing by you, his hand trailing against your hip as he goes over to the nightstand to retrieve the glasses. “Thank you,” you murmur before the first sip, clinking your glass against his.

Jey nods down at you, sipping. “How many times I gotta say it? I’m taking care of you—tonight you mine, so relax and let me do this.”

You huff into your glass at his cocky tone, getting comfortable on the bed. Jey follows suit, scooting close behind to spoon and cradle you, his warm body giving you that solace you crave. The two of you just sit there for quite some time, sipping and cuddling with the sounds of Majid Jordan in the background, his hand a caress on your belly that does its part in subduing the cramps and aches.

“Feel better, ma?” he asks after a while, both of your glasses drained. You’re nodding as he gets up to refill them, taking a self-serving moment to let your eyes rove over his bare skin, the tattoos that gleam under the dim, ambient lighting. He turns before you can stop the reverie you’re in admiring his hip tattoo, smirking slyly at the caught look on your face. You all but snatch the glass back from him, drinking a little deeper than before, refusing to meet his gaze as he returns to his spot behind you.

The hand that was at your belly resumes its caressing but adds the curve of your hip, the fleshiness of your upper thigh to its route. All the while, Jey simply stays quiet and admires you. The wild natural curls framing your face, your hair not blown out for once. The pillowy pink of your lips that he knows the feel of like the back of his hand. Your cute button nose, the beauty mark on the left side of your bridge. Hell, Jey loves your skin. Milky brown and so smooth under his touch.

You look so fucking good and you’re not even doing anything—just existing. “Baby,” he murmurs, finally breaking the quiet. And it’s the tone. How deep his voice is, how it rumbles at your ear that makes you squirm just a fraction.

“Hm?” The less you speak, the better.

“It’s your second day, right?” You nod, licking a drop of wine off your upper lip. Jey tracks the motion greedily, still rubbing your body. “How you feelin’ then, huh? How bad is the discomfort?”

And, fuck, you know he knows. He always did. Jey never judged you for expressing baser desires while you bled. Didn’t even blink the first time you relayed what you tend to experience with every cycle. All he ever did was just apply the knowledge into his care for you.

“Um…” you struggle, feeling like you were standing on the precipice of yet another impulsive decision. “W-What do you mean, Jey?”

Jey has two options, the way he sees it. He could play it safe, be delicate about this sort of thing and wait it out. Let you come to him. But with someone else in the picture, that was risky. You’re a good girl, at least you try to be. Perhaps you’ll shove all this down and ignore it, wanting so badly to do the right thing.

His other option is that he can’t fucking chance it. Closed mouths don’t get fed. He knows you. Can see the way your chest rises and falls quicker and quicker with every rub of his hand. How your pretty eyes flutter as he talks to you. The bite of your bottom lip. How you rely on the glass in your hand in fear of having your hands do things they shouldn’t.

You need this. And just like every time before, Jey is going to give it to you.

“Tell me what you’re feeling…other than the pain. Look at me and tell me how to make it better, baby.” He’s like the fucking devil on your shoulder. His voice deep and alluring, transfixing your mind and compelling you to forgo caution. You shouldn’t do this.

You really, really shouldn’t.

But…

Over your shoulder, you shy a glance towards him, and the look in his eyes is so wild that you can’t help but melt into it. Into him.

“Jey…” you whimper, peering up into the dark pools that scream trouble.

“Say it, baby—what do you need?” He won’t act until you do. So long as you refrain from voicing what you required from him, he wouldn’t do it. No matter how bad he wanted to give it to you. “Be a big girl,” his voice is a little rough now, that signature mean streak shining through as he reaches up and cups your jaw, “and say that shit.”

At this point, you really do need it. The best way to get it with someone like Jey is to be upfront and bold. Don’t be a fucking pussy, you bitch.

“I played with myself in the shower and I was so close until you interrupted me,” you pout up at him, uncaring at how needy you sound, how desperate you’re being. “Please, baby, I don’t even need no foreplay or nothin’—just fuck me.”

Jey stares down at you, nostrils flaring as he surveys your face, needing to be absolutely sure that you’re sure. Whatever he finds must be good enough for him because he nods, more so to himself, before rearing back to finish off his glass, which you follow suit in doing.

Your eyes follow him desperately as he breaks away to roll off the bed, trailing back into the bathroom. When he returns it’s with two towels in hand, making your heart race. He doesn’t even have to say a word, you’re already climbing off the bed to make way so he can lay them down and spread them out on the comforter to his liking.

Once he’s done, he gives you a once over, eyes keying in on how you cross one leg over the other, squirming where you stand, looking at him with those wide, innocent eyes. How can you look like that when you were such a little freak? He’ll never know—only that it turns him on to no end.

“C’mon, baby, get naked,” he coaxes, already pulling at the waistband of both his sweats and boxer briefs. “Lemme see sum…”

How many times have you done this with him? And, still, he makes you blush. You follow his lead, cheeks hot under the rapt attention once your round breasts are out and free. Jey studies the brown peaks of your hard nipples with a hungry swipe of his tongue at his lip before nodding at the boxers. “Them too. It’s just me,” he reminds you, catching your hesitation as you realize that you didn’t even put a tampon in after your shower. Not only are you wet, you’re sure it’s a fucking mess down there. “Don’t be scared. This ain’t our first rodeo, sweetheart.”

Which, no, it’s not. You sigh, feeling silly at being shy around him before pushing the boxers down your legs, completely baring yourself to him for the first time in nearly three months. Jey makes a sound akin to relief, needing this for too long.

“You so perfect, mama,” he groans, all but ripping his briefs down his toned thighs. Immediately, your eyes fall and you nearly moan at the sight of him, hanging there all for you. “Get on the bed, baby.”

You raise a knee up to the bed, Jey close behind, already feeling you up and furthering your excitement. But then, you’re turning around and pushing him back with a hand to his chest, his confusion clear in the way his brows bunch in the middle.

“Before we start, I need it in my mouth real quick,” you tell him before he can even ask, dropping down to your knees and blinking up at him. His dark eyes shine down on you lustfully, awed by how bold you are. It’s the wine, you know it, and how much you fucking missed him. How you want to show him how sorry you are, how much you need to make it clear that you appreciate him. “It’s been so long, hasn’t it? Lemme taste it a little bit…”

Your hand grips him at the base, the little slut fairy inside you doing a happy dance at the familiar weight in your hand. Heavy and thick and perfectly long. God, you missed this dick. The way it twitches and jumps as you pull back to admire it in its entirety before stroking it. Jey moans above you as you work it only like you can, your tongue slithering out to lavish wet licks on the tip, at that slit that’s already threatening to drool with precum.

You groan happily as you wrap your mouth around him, his dick filling your mouth in a way that makes your eyes roll back for a second. He’s so big that sucking him feels like a challenge, one you’ve always loved taking up. Jey leans his head back, eyes toward the ceiling as a deep, satisfied sigh leaves his body, your warm mouth feeling like paradise. He’s quick to weave his fingers through your hair, not pulling or pushing just yet, simply holding.

It’s obscene how quickly you’re able to fully take him into your throat, your eyes rolling up into your skull with the sensation of his groin rubbing against your nose and his scent. A nasty, long string of spit trails between you and his dick as you pull back for more breath. Your eyes are so pretty and glazed over as you study his hard cock, how wet he is from your throat before diving back in to stuff the entirety of him back in your mouth. All you can do is think Jey, Jey, Jey and nothing else.

On your knees like this, has to be one of his favorite sights. You’re so good for him—waylaying your own need to give him that throat. You’re right—it’s been too long. That’s why he was so fucking salty while you were traipsing around with his cousin. How could any man ever act right after experiencing such pleasure only to have it ripped away from them? You make it hard to think straight, to be a good brother.

He wants you all for himself, but if this is all can have at the moment—just pieces that you’re willing to share—then he’s going to take it. Others be damned.

It’s when you’re dipping down to lovingly kiss and lick his balls while reaching up to stroke him, paying special attention to the drooling head, that Jey has to tighten his fingers in your hair and pull you off, both of your chests heaving.

“You tryna make me nut already, damn.” It’s so fucking sexy how you immediately lean back in for more, as if on instinct, before remembering yourself and blinking up at him in a half daze. “Get up there and lay down, pretty. It’s time you get what you need.”

Excited, you get to your feet, wiping away the remnants of saliva off your mouth and where it’s dripped down to your chest, climbing onto the bed. Jey lingers behind you, stroking his hard dick, simmering gaze locked on the way your ass jiggles with every moment.

You artfully place yourself among the protective layer of towels, already feeling the telltale trickle between your legs. Jey is on you quickly, large hands on either knee, spreading you open as you bite your lip and take in the awe on his face. Like there’s not a fucking murder scene between your legs.

Any self doubt is given no room to grow and fester at the feel of dick massaging your wet cunt, collecting moisture and teasing your clit. His pretty eyes glimmer with mischief at the surprised gasp you let out under the weight of his dick tapping your swollen nub heavily before sliding the length back and forth against it. He keeps doing this—holding you down as you reflexively try to back away from it—until your pussy begins to gush with each heavy hit, making him snicker in approval.

“That pussy so damn wet,” he rasps, eyes transfixed on the soaked flesh. “It don’t even make no sense…”

You can’t take it anymore, head pushing back into the covers as you whine, “Jey….”

“Yeah, I hear you, baby, I know,” he frowns in mock sympathy, glancing up to see tears dotting your lashes already. “You know I got you. Gon’ make this pussy feel real good, I promise,” and it’s with that vow that he finally catches onto your slippery entrance and slowly starts to push in. “Should fuckin’ punish yo’ bad ass for not giving me this pussy for so long,” he grunts above you at the tug and squeeze of your spasming walls making way for his dick. “All this good shit you got and you expect me to act fuckin’ normal.”

You’re already on edge, keyed up from not only the wine and sucking him off but the earlier orgasm you didn’t get to have. The skin of his shoulders dip underneath nails that dig for some sort of reprieve. “Ouuu fuck, Jey, it’s so big!”

“Yeah, and you gon’ get all this big dick deep in you tonight.” He’s still pushing in, still got more to give. Going slow not only for your benefit but for your torture. “I’mma give you this shit until you can’t take no more, is that what you want?”

“Yes, yes, yessss!” You cry out like a bitch in heat, holding him close, legs snaking around his waist to pull him deeper until he’s finally seated all the way in, kissing your cervix.

Your head tips back, baring the long line of your throat. Jey can’t pass the chance up—he kisses and sucks and bites the tender skin there, making you cry out as your hand comes up to cradle the back of his head. While he’s marking your neck, Jey begins moving which incites you to moan out in the air like a whore. He just feels so good, you can’t help it. Like he’s in your stomach, punching the breath out of your lungs.

“Oh, my fuckin’ god, baby…”

Jey pulls up from your throat to bore his mesmerizing eyes into your heavily-lidded ones, now swinging his hips with fervor to pummel your sopping cunt. “Uh-huh, don’t gotta worry ‘bout nothin’, just me and you. Just Daddy fuckin’ his tight little pussy the way he wants. Shit, bae, you feel so good.”

“So do you, Daddy,” you mewl up at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, needing him close, needing him everywhere. “It’s so fuckin’ gooood.”

“Don’t even need no foreplay, huh?” he taunts you with your earlier words, how you begged for him. “Didn’t even wanna let Daddy lick you.”

You shake your head, nose scrunching up at the thought. “No, I’m messy, baby—you c-can’t.”

“Ion give a fuck,” he snarls harshly, gaze wild and feral, “I’ll eat you anytime. This my pussy.”

His nasty words steal the breath from your lungs just as much as his wicked thrusts are. “Oh, my g-god, Joshua…” you whisper, more turned on by that than you had any right to be. He’s such a fucking freak.

“Yeahhh, who else gon’ do you like that, huh?”

Nobody. The thought is instant and mortifying. If Jey wasn’t literally pounding you into the mattress, you’d try to feel more shame. To tell yourself get a fucking grip.

“Nah, don’t hold back—say that shit,” he demands gruffly over the wet, vicious smacks of the two of you joining together, over and over. “Who else gon’ do what I do to you?”

You try to shake your head, not wanting to admit it so blatantly, but Jey isn’t having it. He digs deep and stays deep, swirling his hips in a way that has you wailing and gripping him for dear life. Your eyes fly open once the tip of his dick finds that certain spot and he catches on right away, grinning cockily as he begins to bully that spongy patch that makes you go crazy.

“There it go,” he growls above you, meeting your eyes and nodding along with you as you try to silently communicate that that’s it, right there. To make matters more intense, his right hand comes up to claim your throat, squeezing carefully to control your airflow. “Now before you come, you gon’ say it or I’ll fuckin’ stop. I’m not playin’ with you.”

Him stopping would honestly feel like the end of world to you. You never want him to stop. “No, no, no! I’m sorry, Daddy—please!”

“And you so close, too…” he teases, grinding even filtiher inside. Your walls seize and clench around all his drenched girth, the orgasm just there. “Don’t you wanna be my good girl and tell me the truth?”

Helpless to it, you nod feverishly, crying out through gritted teeth as you try to think clearly through your fuzzy head. “Y-Yes!”

And here he starts to pull out and before shoving himself back in over and over again, steadily building a dangerous toe-curling pace that makes you screech and cry. The strokes have your pussy squelching loudly, the proof of your arousal ringing throughout the room. “Say it, then. Who else fuck you like I do?”

He’s bullying that spot, not letting up once he’s found it. Really giving you no choice. It tears out of you the absolute second your orgasm does. “Nobody!”

A shameful admission given your situation, making you sob and come so hard it feels like something in you breaks open. “Hell yeah, baby. Squeeze my dick just like that,” he goads through a gasp before leaning down to bestow a breathless, startlingly tender kiss on your parted mouth.

As sweet as the kiss is, Jey doesn’t let you come down slowly. If anything, he just keeps laying that dick into you, feeding you every glorious inch with precision that surely has you creaming all over him. You crack your eyes open to see him staring down at you, a hypnotic pool of emotion spilling into you. Your heart can’t beat any faster but it sure does skip under the passion he’s pouring into you, how his lip part in pleasure and every so often his eyes try to slide up into his skull.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you hiss under the pleasure-pain of him drilling into you, groaning under the force of his thrusts that send your breasts bouncing up and down on your chest.

“Givin’ my shit away to other people,” Jey scowls above you, his disdain for sharing apparent. “Knowing this pussy belongs to me. Knowing she only like to cry for me,” and as if to prove his point his next thrust triggers a gush that wets up his pelvis. “Mhm, just like that, baby. You so pretty when you squirt for Daddy. All over Daddy’s big, fat dick.”

His mouth is so filthy but all that shit-talking only turns you on even more. Especially since Jey always could back it up and then some. You moan at the sex talk, arms releasing their hold on his shoulders in favor of your fingers coming up to toy with your achy nipples. Jey pulls back and grunts, gaze locked on the chocolate peaks, how your fingers skillfully pull and twist at them.

“Play with them titties for me, baby, that’s right.” The encouragement makes your blood run hotter. “Shit got you grippin’ me tight as hell—what you gon’ do? Nut again?”

Yes. You would say that, if you could speak but you’re too busy showing him the whites of your eyes, hands still cupping your tits as another wave rushes through you, choking you up with its intensity. The euphoric feeling has you contracting rhythmically around his girthy shaft. Jey groans loudly, the hard clenching of your pussy bordering on too much, strangling his wet dick.

“You be comin’ hard as fuck, girl. Damn,” Jey informs you with an appreciative glance along your shaking body. “That pussy missed me, didn’t it?” He rears back onto his knees to part your trembling legs for a better view. “You gotta take care of her, baby. Give her what she needs. And she be needing her Daddy, don’t she?”

Coming to again, you whimper pathetically, “yes, Daddy. She does.” You need your Daddy. “So muuuchhh…”

Jey slyly smiles to himself, no matter what happened after tonight, you could never deny how good this felt. He’s putting it down so good that he’s definitely gonna leave a mark.

“Jey…”

The sexy sound of your breathy whisper calling his name brings him back to the present, your eyes glazed over with lust but sharper than before, determined. “Yeah, baby?”

“Roll us over so I can ride that dick.”

And you absolutely don’t have to tell him twice.

Carefully, Jey maneuvers your bodies, mindful of the damp towels underneath and your wary gaze trailing lower to ensure that it wasn’t so bad. Which, it could be worse but there’s definitely something of a mess where your bodies meet.

“Don’t worry about that shit, mama. Do what you said you was gon’ do,” he orders with a stinging slap on your ass, staring up at your pretty face and downright unfair body. “Ride this dick, baby.”

With a final chew to your bottom lip, you obey his commands and run your hands up his arms to rest upon his strong shoulders for balance, simultaneously rolling your hips and urging him, deep rooted and thick, to brush against your g-spot. The sensation and your pussy pulling and rippling around his length has got both of you moaning wantonly.

Jey loves when you’re on top, how the control shifted into your hands as you worked him, looking like a fucking goddess above his willing body. “That’s it, pretty, ride my fuckin’ dick,” his encouragement breaking off into a wheeze as you lean forward and use your grasp on him for leverage, slamming your pussy down on his throbbing cock. Fat ass ricocheting and slapping loudly on his thighs as your aggression increases. “Aw, shit…”

It’s insane for you to already be on the verge of another peak but you’re so turned on to even care, to wonder at the heights your body is reaching. Jey can feel it, though, his massive hands palming your busy hips, forcing you to go even harder.

“Give me that cum, baby. Your pussy tight as fuck right now.” His next words have you rearing your head back, curls flying wildly while you groan ferally at the feel of him bucking his hips up into you. Unable to tame his thirst for control over your pleasure. “You can’t hide it from me—I can feel that shit. Tell Daddy you comin’, c’mon, sexy—you comin’ for me?”

Your eyes fall to gaze at him in shock, all of it being too much. “Yes, yes, yesss! Oh, fuck, Daddy, I’m comin’ again!” Your control slips through your fingers as you freeze under his harsh grip, his dick drilling up into you and forcing you to take it. “Joshua, baby, shit!”

“Yeah, say my name, baby,” he growls under you, male pride on ten, studying the way your eyes roll back, delighting in how more moisture spills over his length. “Look so beautiful when you gettin’ yours…”

The praise combined with the sharp-shooter ramming of his fleshy tip against your g-spot has you howling into yet another orgasm. It tears through you, leaving you trembling and clenching so hard that Jey lands a satisfied smack on the swell of your ass. Through your shakes and tremors, you lean down to claim his lips in a passionate kiss, his surprised moan rumbling against your mouth. He holds you close for the moment, hips stilling to indulge your greedy mouth with a hunger of his own. Rather than the nasty smacks of skin on skin, soft sighs and content moans fill the air.

Jey is such a good kisser, you think for not the first time. Loving every time his lips finds yours. Your bare chest presses into his as his hands smooth over the dip in your back, the shape of your soft ass and thighs. You feel him up, too, taking pleasure in his sweet-damp muscles, his body in such nice shape.

You pull away first, your lips hovering close still as you gaze deep into his eyes. “You so sexy, Daddy,” you purr appreciatively, making him pulse inside you. “Take such good care of me…”

“Thank you, beautiful,” he presses a kiss on the tip of your nose, smiling at the sound of your precious giggle. “That’s what I’m supposed to do, baby,” he says smoothly, truly believing his words, languishing in the silent claim he has over you and you over him. “I’m always gon’ look out for my best girl.”

“You promise?” you poke further, even through the pleasure a small spark of fear as you recall the former silence.

“I don’t tend to say shit I don’t mean.” Which you know but he also said he was done with you that night. As if reading your thoughts, Jey sighs heavily and regards your anxious gaze with tender eyes, the back of his hand brushing over your cheekbone. “Only when I’m being hot-headed and hurt. Don’t mean that shit is true, though. Especially when it comes to you. I could never not have you in my life, baby girl.”

You dip down into the skin of his chest, nosing sweetly into his pecs, too overcome to speak but so grateful. Clutching him tighter, you start to wind your hips again, needing to do something. Jey breathes out deep before placing his hands on your ass, murmuring softly, “let me move you on your back, okay?”

You nod, a lump still in your throat as you allow him to reposition you to his liking. His big body looms over you, strong arms digging underneath to hug you to him. His forehead presses into yours, giving no choice but to give up the shy act and force you to face him under his full body weight.

“Wanna see you up close as you come for me again, aight?” Speechless still, you bob your head up and down, thick legs wrapping around his ribcage again.

Jey proceeds to grind into the depths of you in an agonizing way that makes your toes curl at the sheer size of him. He makes sure you feel all of him as he pulls back until only the tip of his dick is swallowed by your hole before rolling his hips forward, digging every inch right back inside to the hilt. Each time you grow louder, tears of pure joy pool in your eyes at how he takes his time and luxuriates in the feel of your pussy.

“Baby, you mine. Look at you, takin’ this dick. Allowing me to have this pussy at a time like this, trusting me with it.” He doesn’t take it for granted. He would understand if you never wanted to be touched as you endured your menstrual. But you craved it, craved him. Knowing only he can provide you with the comfort you need. Nobody else. Just Jey.

“Go ‘head, baby, look.”

You gasp in understanding, fingers flexing around his shoulders as you blink up at him in surprise. Jey merely nods in encouragement, one hand worming its way from under you to cradle the back of your head, coaxing your gaze from his down to where your bodies unite. Something lights up deep in your belly, the spark traveling up to your chest as you stare down at the mess you’ve made. The russet-tinged slick coating Jey’s dick and the insides of your thighs.

“Yeah, that’s us right there,” he brags shamelessly, joining you to watch him push in and out, all of you shining over his skin. “It’s natural, ain’t it? Feel good, don’t it? And it all belongs to me, huh?”

Facing the pure filth between your bodies only serves to make it that much hotter for you. You didn’t think Jey could turn you on any further, but he’s a fucking demon, it seems—one hellbent on dragging you under with him.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper up into his mouth, returning your sights on his handsome, determined face. His thrusts pick up again, wet pussy loud as ever as he begins to nail you to the mattress.

“You belong to me, don’t you?” he asks through a huff of breath.

“Y-Yes, Daddy,” you repeat faithfully, completely overcome by him, how he’s turning your world upside down. “I belong to you, Jey—fuck!”

Jey hums, taking in the spaced-out look that slackens your face. “Yeah, I know that shit,” he tells you, less cocky and more self-assured. This night letting him know exactly where he stands with you. “You only let me in this sweet pussy when you get like this.”

His control was faintly slipping through his fingers with every gushy pump into the tight grip of your cunt, and you could see it. His eyes glaze over, his sounds become more desperate and he holds you close like his life depends on it. Not to mention how he ruts into you with heightened urgency.

Knowing he’s close, you snake your hands down to grip his plump ass that you always drool over in private moments, squeezing and digging your nails into the flesh, a breathy noise spilling out his parted lips under the contact. “Only for you, Daddy,” you coo sweetly, “this pussy is yours. I want you to stuff me full of that nut, please. It feels so good, don’t it? Please, give it to me, baby.”

The sweetness of your face clashes with the nasty words in a dizzying manner that has Jey beginning to shudder above you, but he’s still stubbornly refraining, bottom lip tucked under his teeth.

You decide to turn it up a notch, lifting your hips to meet each pump, grasping his face in your hands. “I’mma flood that dick with my cum, baby, only you make me come so fucking hard. I want you to come, too. You been so strong for me, making me feel good, now it’s your turn to feel it with me.”

“Aw, fuck…” he groans into you, breath mixing with yours. “Tell me you love me,” he blurts from out of left field, making your chest alternate weirdly between dropping and bursting at the seams. A tremor crawls over your body at the emotion not only in his voice but in his heady glare. “Tell me you love me, baby.”

Should you? His orgasm is so close, just on the edge. You would be wrong to deny him when he was so needy.

“Jey, I…fuck—” He’s dropping that dick into you, holding you down so you can’t go anywhere. He stares, hard and unwavering, waiting. Like he knows already. That it’s okay to let go. “Oh, my go—fuck,” you breathe out harshly, spurting on his dick with every sloppy thrust, “yes, okay! I love you, Joshua, fuuuuck!”

“Oh shit, baby, I’m ‘bout to nut,” he hisses into your throat, possessing half a mind to carefully bite down on the delicate skin there, making you cry out at the slight pain. “All up in my fuckin’ pussy…”

In a miraculous fashion, your orgasms hit at the same time. Undeniably romantic. He drives the deepest he can to do as you asked of him and pump rope after rope of his warm, sticky cum inside the greedy center of your willing body. Meanwhile, you’re under him arching painfully beneath the mass of his heavy weight squeezing the damn breath out of you. But that’s okay, you return the favor by seizing so tight on his erection that it nearly hurts. The orgasm is your strongest yet, its intensity driven by the feeling of him deep inside and being milked for every drop you could get.

Jey ruts into you, hips swiveling desperately as he chases and rides out the rest of his high. “Unnhh, fuck,” he moans helplessly, eyes shut in pure ecstasy. You stare up at him, weak and satiated, blood rushing through your veins like you’re on drugs.

With a tender kiss on your temple, Jey finally pulls out of you. You wince at the sudden rush of indecipherable fluids leaking out of you and down the crack of your ass. Jey moans at the greedy pull that stubbornly latched and sucked him back into your body, but he was adamant on pulling away to study the wet spread that was all you and all him.

You blush weakly at the affectionate kiss he drops down on your lower belly, a silent thank you. It’s when Jey rears back and rolls off the bed to wander into the bathroom that you catch more evidence of your cycle on his pelvis, his upper thighs, his swinging dick and it makes you groan into your palms.

Fuck, was that soul-tie shit everyone spoke about real? you wonder quietly, a hand coming up to rest upon your thudding chest. You told him you loved him—you haven’t even said that to Roman yet.

Before the shame of your actions can rise and drown you, cheapening the incredible moment, Jey is back on the bed, kneeling over you with a damp wash rag and dry towel. You notice his clean skin and flush even more to imagine him wiping your blood off his body.

He makes quick work of wiping you down, claiming that you’ll both shower after catching your breaths, before snaking the ruined towels out from under you and replacing them with the new one, rolling your bare body back in place over the protective layer.

“You did so good, baby,” he coos over his shoulder, tossing the dirty laundry into a hamper by the bedroom door before returning, just as naked, to scoop your soft body into a comfortable embrace as you lay back and stare up the ceiling. “Any pain still?”

You sigh softly at the feel of his hand roving over your tummy before shaking your head. “You fixed me right up.”

“Good,” he murmurs proudly, big arms wrapped possessively around your supple form, shifting you so he can find your lips again, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths and languishing in the hazy atmosphere of your lovemaking. When you part, Jey keeps you close, peering down into the very depths of you. “And you know I love you too, right? It wasn’t just the sex talkin’.”

The admission makes you squirm under his watchful eye. He sounds so at ease saying it. As if he always…

You chuckle nervously, eyes shifting in search for something else to focus on that wasn’t so…Jey. “I know you do, Josh.” Because you’ve known each other too long and too closely to not care for each other in a deeper way. “You don't say shit you don’t mean, remember?”

Jey nods, picking up on your discomfort. He wants to be selfish with you, keep you here with him forever and have you surrender to the clear chemistry you two share. But because he loves you, forcing you is the last thing he wants to do. You’re already struggling with all this, caught between a rock and a hard place.

“C’mon, baby,” he drops another smooch on your pouty lips, pulling with you him to nestle deeper into the pillows. “Let’s get some sleep, hm? And then when you wake up in the morning, I’mma continue to make sure my girl feels good,” he says suggestively, wagging his tongue. “Starting off by eating that pussy in the shower.”

A scandalized noise tumbles from your lips and Jey laughs at you shoving him. “Joshua, behave.”

“What? It’s your fault for havin’ that sweet lil’ pussy between them legs, Miss Juicebox…”

Your cry out in further indignation at how nasty he can be, pushing him some more before huffing and turning on your side, feigning sleep at the sound of his goofy giggles in your ear. “Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, baby,” the humor still apparent in his voice.

Not before long, you drift off into a much needed peaceful sleep that’s evaded you for weeks. Jey makes to join you but not before reaching an arm behind him towards his nightstand, careful not to disturb you as he slides the drawer out and retrieves your phone.

A sick sort of satisfaction pulls at the corners of his mouth as he unlocks the phone to discover the few untouched notifications—missed calls and texts from none other than Roman.

He doesn’t even bother opening them—too content with you in his arms to care—and just locks the phone back before reaching over to slide it under your pillow. That can be tomorrow’s problem.

But in the quiet dark of the night, before Jey allows his eyes to slide shut, he has to wonder snidely, knowing his cousin is somewhere out there feeling murderous: Don’t feel too good, now does it?

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

a/n: i’m genuinely going to hell, man. 😭 literally woke up in the middle of night with this idea and couldn’t stop writing until it was finished. last time, idk, i just feel like i played my jeybae, so i guess i went ham to make up for it LMFAO. and, so, the cycle continues….. we still love you big daddy ro! please, feel free to comment and leave feedback, i loveeee knowing your thoughts—it’s like a battery in my back!

TAGLIST!!!!! (you can always ask to be tagged if you like)

@abadbitchblogs @diamondlifeee @yana3sworld @sicklyforsakenwatcher

[ripleyxmami]

[ziraamore]

𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐧 (+𝟏𝟖)

(𝐉𝐞𝐲 𝐔𝐬𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Summary: Summary: After weeks of being separated by WWE travel and long-distance calls, Jey Uso and his girlfriend lean on late-night conversations to stay connected. When she secretly flies out to surprise him backstage after a match, their emotional reunion reminds both of them that no amount of distance can change how much they mean to each other.

A/N: I’ve been sooo out of wack it’s must be something in the air, but I hope you guys enjoy. Leave some love and comments would love to hear 🧡

-

The hotel room was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner and the distant noise of traffic outside the window. WWE shows were always loud, chaotic, full of people yelling his name, cameras flashing, everybody wanting a piece of Jey Uso.

But the second he got back to the room alone, all of that energy disappeared.

You were stretched deep in a bubble bath three states away, your phone balanced carefully on a folded towel beside the tub while steam curled around the bathroom mirrors. Your music was low in the background. Soft. Calm. Completely opposite from the night he just had.

Your screen lit up.

JEY ❤️

You smiled instantly before answering. “There he is.”

On the other side, you heard shuffling, the sound of a bag hitting the floor, then his tired voice.

“Hey, baby.”

Just hearing him say it made your shoulders relax.

“You sound exhausted.”

“Mm.” He flopped onto the hotel bed with a groan. “Crowd was hot tonight though.”

“You win?”

“You already know I did.”

You laughed softly. “There he go.”

“Don’t do that,” he muttered, but you could hear the grin in his voice now.

For a second neither of you said anything. You just listened to each other breathe through the phone like people who missed each other too much.

Jey finally broke the silence. “What you doin’?”

You sank lower into the bubbles. “Bath.”

“A bath?”

“Mhm.”

“That explains why you sound all relaxed an’ shit while I’m over here barely alive.”

“You chose wrestling.”

“And I choose you too,” he said immediately.

That made you smile harder than it should’ve.

You heard him shifting around, probably laying flat across the hotel bed now, one arm over his eyes. You could picture it perfectly at this point. The black compression shirt half peeled off, chains still hanging from his neck because he was too tired to take them off yet.

“You celebrate with everybody after?” you asked quietly.

“Nah.”

“No?”

“Nah. Ain’t really feel like it.”

Your expression softened a little.

He continued after a second. “Everybody went out. Jimmy kept tryna drag me with ‘em.” He paused. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

The bathroom suddenly felt warmer.

“Jey…”

“I’m serious.” His voice got lower. More honest. “Whole arena loud as hell tonight, but I still kept thinkin’ about callin’ you after.”

You stared up at the ceiling, trying not to melt completely.

Long distance had been hard in ways nobody else really understood. The missed flights. The time zones. Falling asleep on FaceTime. Watching him through a screen while thousands of people got to stand right in front of him every week.

But moments like this made it feel manageable.

“You know what I hate?” he suddenly asked.

“What?”

“That after the shows… I can’t come home to you.”

The words sat heavy between you.

You swallowed softly. “I know.”

“I be seein’ everybody with their people backstage. Then I get back here by myself.” A pause. “Don’t like that shit.”

You traced lazy circles through the bubbles with your fingers. “I don’t like it either.”

Another silence.

Not awkward. Never awkward.

Just longing.

Then his tone shifted slightly. “Lemme see you.”

You laughed. “Boy, I’m in a bath.”

“And?”

“You are ridiculous.”

“I’m deprived, baby.”

“Deprived is crazy.”

“Man, turn the camera on.”

You shook your head smiling anyway, finally switching to video.

The second his face appeared, your chest tightened a little.

He looked tired with his damp curls pushed back, gold chain against his chest, hoodie half unzipped, but the second he saw you surrounded by bubbles his entire expression softened.

“Damn,” he murmured.

“What?”

“You just look pretty sittin’ there.”

Your face warmed immediately.

Meanwhile he stared at the screen like it physically hurt not being able to touch you.

“You got all them bubbles and still got me losin’ my mind.”

“Jey.”

“I’m just sayin’.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but he caught the smile you were trying to hide.

“There it is,” he said quietly. “Miss that smile.”

Your heart squeezed painfully.

“You’ll see it in person soon.”

“When?”

“Two weeks.”

“Too long.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“I’m flyin’ to you the second I’m done with SmackDown.”

“You said that last time.”

“An’ I meant it last time too.”

You laughed again, and for the first time all night, he looked fully relaxed.

The room stayed dim around him while steam fogged your camera slightly. Thousands of miles apart, but somehow it still felt intimate. Like you were sharing the same night together.

Jey looked at you for another long second before speaking softer this time.

“Stay on the phone with me till you fall asleep?”

You nodded immediately.

“Always.”

You stayed on the line with him, the phone propped against the edge of the tub as the bubbles slowly dissolved around you. His breathing had evened out a little, but he wasn't asleep. You could tell by the way he kept shifting, the rustle of sheets, the occasional low hum when he adjusted the phone.

“You comfortable?” he asked.

“Mhm.” You let your head fall back against the rim of the tub. “Water’s startin’ to cool though.”

“Get out then.”

“I know.” But you didn’t move. You just liked hearing him there, even through a speaker.

“You gonna let me watch?”

Your eyes snapped open. “Jey.”

“What?” He sounded innocent, but you knew better. “I’m just sayin’. You been in there a while. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with lookin’ at what’s mine.”

“Yours?”

“Mmhm.” The low rumble of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. “You know you mine.”

You bit your lip, not answering right away. The steam had mostly cleared, leaving your skin damp and slick, water beading along your collarbone. The bubbles had thinned enough that the outline of your body was visible beneath the surface.

“You see somethin’ you like?” he murmured.

“Maybe.”

“Let me see more.”

Your heart kicked. You knew where this was headed, the same way it always did when the nights got late and the distance felt too wide. He’d get that hunger in his voice, low and rough, and you’d let him talk you into things that made your cheeks burn for hours after.

“Camera’s fogged up,” you said weakly.

“Wipe it off.”

You hesitated, then reached out and dragged your finger across the lens. His face cleared on the screen, and then his view of you cleared too — shoulders bare, water lapping just below your chest, nipples pebbled from the cooling air.

His breath caught.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“Jey…”

“Nah, don’t ‘Jey’ me. You knew what you was doin’ takin’ a bath and callin’ me.”

“You called me.”

“Same difference.” He shifted, and you heard the soft clink of his chain against the headboard. The camera tilted as he propped himself up, his face filling the screen again. Dark eyes, heavy-lidded, focused entirely on you. “Stand up.”

“The water’s—”

“Stand up, baby. Let me see you.”

Your thighs pressed together under the water. Slowly, gripping the edges of the tub, you rose. Water cascaded down your body in rivulets, splashing back into the bath. Droplets clung to your skin, catching the dim bathroom light. You stood there, exposed, water sliding between your breasts, down your stomach, over the curve of your hips.

His jaw tightened.

“Turn around.”

You obeyed, feeling his gaze like a physical weight on your back. The water ran down your spine, over the swell of your ass. You heard him exhale, long and shaky.

“Goddamn.”

You glanced over your shoulder at the phone. “This what you wanted?”

“You know it is.” His voice had dropped an octave, rough with need. “Now come here. Bring the phone to the bed.”

You stepped out of the tub, grabbing a towel but not using it. Water dripped onto the tile as you padded to the bedroom, phone held in front of you. You set it against a pillow, then climbed onto the mattress, lying on your side facing the camera.

He was watching you like you were the only thing in the world.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he said quietly.

“Show me.”

A low sound escaped his throat, half laugh, half groan. “You tryna kill me tonight?”

“Maybe.” You let your hand drift down your stomach, fingers trailing through the moisture still on your skin. “You sound like you need to relax.”

“I need a lot more than that.”

You smiled, slow and teasing. “Then take what you need.”

His eyes darkened. The camera shifted as he adjusted his position, and then his hand came into frame, sliding down his chest, past the chain, lower. His abs tensed. He didn’t break eye contact with the lens.

“Touch yourself for me,” he said.

Your breath hitched. Your hand moved lower, fingers brushing your clit. You were already wet from more than the bath. A soft moan escaped your lips.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Let me hear you.”

You circled your clit slowly, watching his face contort with pleasure as his hand worked himself in rhythm. The sound of his breathing, harsh and uneven, filled the space between you.

“Faster,” he ordered.

You obeyed, your hips bucking against your own hand. The pressure built, coiling low in your belly. His name fell from your lips like a prayer.

“I’m close,” you gasped.

“Look at me when you come.”

Your eyes locked onto his. The connection, even through a screen, was electric. Your orgasm crashed through you, your back arching, cry muffled against your own wrist.

He followed a moment later, a guttural groan, his body shuddering on the hotel bed.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just heavy breathing and the soft crackle of the phone speaker.

Finally, he let out a breathy laugh. “I needed that.”

You giggled, still catching your breath. “Me too.”

He paused, then added softly, “I love you.”

Your chest swelled. “I love you too, Jey.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight.”

You ended the call, stared at the ceiling, and felt the ache of missing him settle back into your bones.

———

The next week felt painfully slow.

Every phone call with Jey ended the same way.

“Soon.”

“Soon,” you’d repeat back.

But neither of you realized how soon.

—

The arena was loud enough to shake the floor beneath your shoes.

Production crew members rushed around with headsets, wrestlers moved in and out of gorilla position, TVs played the live broadcast overhead, and somewhere in the building the crowd started chanting Jey’s name so loudly it echoed through the hallway.

You stood tucked behind a stack of production crates trying not to smile too hard.

One of the crew members looked over at you. “He has no idea you’re here?”

You shook your head.

“Nah.”

“That man’s about to lose his mind.”

Probably.

You had landed only an hour earlier after coordinating the whole thing with one of the women from production. Jey thought you were at home. Meanwhile you’d been sitting backstage the entire show wearing one of his hoodies with your overnight bag hidden in the staff office.

The closer his match got, the more nervous you became.

Not because you were unsure about him.

Because you missed him so bad it almost hurt.

The crowd suddenly exploded.

You looked toward the monitor just in time to hear:

“YEET!”

Your stomach flipped instantly.

There he was.

Jey came through the curtain on screen with all his usual energy, hyping up the crowd, chains swinging against his chest while thousands of people screamed for him.

And somehow seeing him in person after weeks apart felt different than watching on television.

More real.

More overwhelming.

You folded your arms tightly over yourself trying not to get emotional.

One of the makeup artists beside you smiled knowingly. “Yeah… that reunion about to be crazy.”

You laughed quietly. “Probably.”

—

By the time the match ended, the arena was deafening.

Jey had won.

Again.

You watched him celebrate in the ring for a moment before slipping away from the monitor and heading closer toward the backstage entrance where he’d come through the curtain.

Your heartbeat was ridiculous now.

Then suddenly—

The curtain burst open.

Jey walked through sweaty and breathless, still full of adrenaline while people patted his shoulders and yelled congratulations around him.

“Good shit, Uce!”

“Crazy match!”

He laughed, talking back to everybody, until his eyes landed on you.

And he stopped moving completely.

Like his brain genuinely couldn’t process what he was seeing.

The hallway noise faded around you.

You smiled slowly. “Hey.”

“…What?”

You laughed harder at the stunned look on his face.

“What, you don’t recognize me?”

He stared for another full second before immediately pushing past everybody toward you.

The second he reached you his arms wrapped around your waist so fast you squealed, nearly losing balance as he lifted you clean off the floor.

“Baby!” he shouted, laughing into your neck.

You buried your face against him instantly, breathing him in while he held you impossibly tight.

“You here?!” he kept saying. “You actually here?!”

“Yes!”

“When did you get here?”

“Like an hour ago—”

“You sneaky as hell!”

You laughed harder as he finally set you down only to grab your face immediately afterward, staring at you like he still didn’t believe it.

“You serious right now?”

“Mhm.”

“Man…”

The look in his eyes almost melted you right there backstage.

He leaned down and kissed you hard without caring who saw.

Crew members instantly started yelling and hyping in the background.

Jey barely acknowledged any of them. His forehead stayed pressed against yours while he grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.

“You got me messed up right now,” he muttered.

“You happy to see me?”

“You know damn well I am.”

Then quieter:

“I missed you so much.”

That softness in his voice hit harder than anything else.

You rubbed your thumb against his jaw gently. “I know.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, one hand sliding around your waist possessively like he needed constant reassurance you were actually there.

And honestly?

You needed the same thing.

—

The hotel room felt completely different with you in it.

Warmer.

Lived in.

Your shoes were kicked off near the door, your overnight bag sat open on the chair, and Jey couldn’t stop touching you long enough to even properly settle down.

The second the door closed behind you both, he grabbed you again.

“Come here.”

You laughed breathlessly. “Jey—”

“I’m serious.”

He backed you gently against the door, kissing you like he’d been thinking about it for weeks, because he had.

One hand rested on your waist while the other cupped your jaw carefully, like despite all the intensity he still wanted to be gentle with you.

“You know how hard that was?” he murmured against your lips.

“What?”

“Seeing you backstage lookin’ all good an’ not bein’ able to disappear immediately.”

You smiled. “You’re dramatic.”

“Nah.” He kissed your cheek. “I was sufferin’.”

You laughed softly, but it faded the second he looked at you again.

Because underneath all the jokes and flirting, there was something almost emotional in his expression.

Like he still couldn’t fully believe you were there.

“You really surprised me,” he said quietly.

“I wanted to.”

“Best surprise I ever got.”

Your chest tightened instantly.

He pulled you toward the bed with him until both of you collapsed onto the mattress laughing softly. The room finally got quiet after all the arena noise, all the travel, all the distance.

Now it was just you and him.

Jey laid on his back pulling you against his chest while his fingers lazily traced up and down your spine.

“This way better than celebrating,” he muttered.

You looked up at him. “You sure?”

“Baby.” He kissed the top of your forehead. “I got everything I wanted right here.”

The hotel room fell quiet around them, the muffled noise of the city far below nothing but a distant hum. Jey's fingers kept moving along her spine, slow and lazy, like he was memorizing the shape of you through the fabric of his hoodie you still wore. You could feel his heartbeat under her cheek, steady now, no longer racing from the match.

You tilted your head up to look at him. His eyes were already on you, dark and soft in the dim light from the bedside lamp.

“What?”

He didn't answer. Just brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear with a gentleness that made your chest ache.

“I really missed you,” he said again, like he needed to hear it twice.

You reached up and touched his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of stubble. “I know. I missed you too.”

He turned his head and kissed your palm, then her wrist. His lips lingered on her pulse point, and she felt it flutter under his mouth.

Slowly, he rolled them over until he was above her, braced on his forearms, looking down at her. The weight of him felt good, solid, real.

“You don't know how many nights I laid in some random hotel bed thinkin' about this,” he said, voice low. “About havin' you right here under me.”

She slid her hands up his chest, over the compression shirt still clinging to his skin. “Show me.”

He leaned down and kissed her, deep and slow, his tongue sweeping into her mouth like he had all the time in the world. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

The kiss broke only so he could sit back on his heels, reaching for the hem of his shirt. He pulled it off in one motion, tossing it somewhere behind him. His skin gleamed under the lamp light, sweat still drying from the match, every muscle defined. She reached for him, palms flat against his stomach, feeling the heat of him.

“Your turn,” he said, tugging gently at the hoodie she wore. She sat up enough to let him peel it off, then the tank top underneath. His eyes traveled down her body, slow, deliberate.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You so beautiful.”

She felt her cheeks warm, but she didn't look away. She reached for the button of his jeans, and he helped her push them down his hips along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, already hard, the tip glistening. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking once, twice, and he let out a low groan.

“Nah,” he said, catching her wrist. “Not yet. I wanna taste you first.”

He guided her back onto the mattress, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of her leggings. She lifted her hips, and he pulled them down, along with her panties, baring her completely. The air hit her wet skin, and she shivered.

He settled between her thighs, spreading them wide with his hands. The lamp light caught the slickness of her, and he let out a sound that was almost a growl.

“Look at you,” he muttered. “All wet for me already.”

She bit her lip as he lowered his head. The first touch of his tongue against her clit made her gasp, her hips bucking instinctively. He held her down with a firm hand on her stomach, his tongue circling slow, teasing.

“Oh god, Jey.”

He hummed against her, the vibration sending sparks through her whole body. He licked from her entrance up to her clit, then back down, lapping at her like he was savoring every drop. His tongue pressed flat against her, then pointed, flicking at the sensitive nub until she was writhing.

He slid two fingers inside her without warning, curling them just right. Her back arched off the bed.

“That feel good, baby?” he asked against her thigh, his breath hot.

“Yes—fuck—don't stop.”

He didn't. He pumped his fingers in and out while his mouth worked her clit, alternating between sucking and licking. Her moans filled the room, loud and breathless, and he seemed to feed on them, going harder, faster.

She felt the pressure building, coiling tight in her belly. Her hand fisted in his hair, pulling him closer.

“I'm gonna—Jey, I'm—”

“Come for me,” he said, his voice muffled but commanding.

And she did, her orgasm crashing through her, her cry sharp as her thighs clamped around his head. He kept licking through it, drawing it out until she was trembling, oversensitive.

He finally lifted his head, chin glistening, a satisfied smirk on his face. He crawled up her body, kissing his way over her stomach, between her breasts, up her neck.

“You taste so fuckin' good,” he murmured against her ear.

She was still catching her breath, but she reached down between them, wrapping her hand around his cock again. This time he didn't stop her. He was slick with pre-cum, and she spread it down his length.

“I want you inside me,” she said.

He didn't need to be told twice. He positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock pressing against her wet folds. He looked into her eyes.

“You ready?”

“Yes.”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, her body stretching to accommodate him. She gasped at the fullness, her nails digging into his shoulders. He paused once he was fully sheathed, letting her adjust.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he said, voice strained.

Then he began to move.

Slow at first, long deep strokes that hit all the right spots. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. He lowered his head, kissing her, swallowing her moans. His pace built, faster, harder, the bed creaking beneath them.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

She opened her eyes, met his gaze. The connection was electric, raw, intimate. Sweat slicked his brow, his muscles tensed with every thrust.

“I love you,” he said, the words punched out with each stroke.

“I love you too,” she gasped.

He shifted angle, and she cried out as he hit a deeper spot. His hand slid between them, thumb pressing against her clit, and she shattered again, clenching around him, her orgasm triggering his. He buried himself deep with a groan, spilling inside her, his body shuddering.

For a long moment, they just lay there, tangled together, breathing hard. He pulled out slowly and collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms.

She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. His hand stroked her hair.

“I ain't ever lettin' you leave again,” he murmured.

She smiled against his skin.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed. Leave some love and comments. PEACE & LOVE

- Zira Amore

[sharmelasworld]

One Night in Italy

This story was inspired by these gifts. Credit goes to the owner.

(This is my first story in a while... Please be kind lol)

I stood by the monitor in Gorilla, watching Jey pace nervously. Out in the ring, LA Knight was giving his usual speech about the Bloodline and family. Jey looked annoyed, but I could tell he was going to use this as motivation for the King of the Ring Tournament on Smackdown.

“Jey, just go out there and do what you do,” Triple H said right before his music started.

As soon as Jey’s music hit, his whole attitude shifted. He became Crash Out Jey Uso, the side of him that always spoke his mind and stood up for his family.

“From the bottom of my heart, screw your family.” LA Knight shouted into the mic. 

I watched the monitor as Jey stared at LA, looking like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. When Jey took off his tank top, I realized I was biting my bottom lip.

“Jimmy! Get out there!” Triple H yelled. 

Jimmy hurried out of Gorilla and met his brother by the ring. He grabbed Jey and stopped him from going back in.

“Come on, you will get his ass on Friday,” Jimmy told Jey.

Jimmy pulled Jey backstage and through the curtain. I stayed by the monitor until I suddenly felt someone grip my wrist. When I looked up, he was holding on tight.

“Follow me…” Jey said low enough for only me to hear him. I followed him down the hallway. He held his tank top in one hand, sweat still on his back while he tried to catch his breath.reath.

Before I could say anything, Jey grabbed my wrist again. He spun me around and pressed me against the wall. The tension between us was obvious, and his eyes said everything he couldn’t.

“What are you doing?” I asked as Jey’s eyes dilated. 

Jey didn’t answer. He just looked down at me and licked his lips.

“Jey, we can’t do this here. We’re both at work, and I’m trying to keep my job,” I said as he pinned me against the wall.

“I know, but I need to let off some steam. That whole segment pissed me off,” Jey said, letting out a heavy breath.

“I know, but how about this? I can help you blow off steam when we get back to the hotel,” I said with a sly grin.

“Sounds good to me…” Jey said as he leaned down and kissed me. 

Jey stepped back, put his tank top on, and took my hand. He walked me back to the makeup area, kissed me again, then walked away.

After the show, I cleaned up my area and packed away my brushes and palettes. I was closing my makeup case when I felt someone watching me. When I turned around, Jey was standing in the doorway in his black tank top, his tattooed arms on display. I smiled as he walked over.

“Are you ready to go?” Jey asked as he wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my neck. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” I said as I began to roll my makeup case towards the door. 

I turned and saw Jey standing by the table, watching me with desire in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked Jey, smiling.

“Oh yeah…” Let’s go. 

Jey walked over and took my hand. We walked through the hallway, saying goodbye to everyone before leaving the arena. When we got to Jey’s rental, he helped me put my things in the trunk, opened the door for me, and got in the driver’s seat.

The car ride to the hotel was quiet, but not awkward. When we pulled into the parking lot, Jey helped me with my things and we went inside. As soon as we walked into the room, Jey spun me around and kissed me deeply. My back hit the door as his kiss moved from my lips to my neck, making me moan softly.

“I’ve been waiting all day to have you…” Jey said, his voice rough with lust. 

“Me too…” 

Jey lifted me up easily. My legs wrapped around his waist as he carried me to the bed and lay me down. He stood at the edge of the bed, took off his tank top, and my heart skipped a beat.

“Sit up,” Jey said as he licked his bottom lip. 

I propped myself up on my elbows as Jey reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it off. I bit my bottom lip as he reached around and unhooked my bra, taking it off. He leaned down, kissed me, then moved to my neck, trailing kisses down until he reached my breast. He used his tongue to flick my nipple while he caressed the other side. I moaned softly, causing Jey to smile.  He reached the waistbands of my pants, pulling them down and off of me.

“You look so sexy,” Jey huffed. 

I can feel the heat in my cheeks with his compliment.  Jey stood up  and took off his sweatpants, letting them fall to the floor. I looked up and bit my bottom lip. 

“You like what you see?” Jey said as he stroked himself.

“I love it.” 

Jey got back on the bed and got between my legs. He lifted my legs and put them on his shoulder. Before I could say anything, Jey buried his head between my legs. I jumped at the sensation of his tongue licking my folds.  I arched my back as the pleasure was becoming too much. I feel Jey’s lips turn up into. a smile.

“Are you ready?” Jey asked

Been ready…

Jey stood up and stroked himself as he lined himself up with my entrance.  Jey entered me slowly, causing my eyes to roll back into my head. He moved slowly, giving me time to adjust to his thickness. He leaned down and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, causing him to go deeper. 

“Damn… I missed this.” I moaned. 

“Me too…” 

Jey pulled out of me, and I looked at him like he had lost his mind. 

“I want you on top…” Jey said.

Jey pulled me off  the bed and took my place. I bit my lip as I got back on the bed, straddling his lap.  I sat down slowly as I inched my way down on Jey. He bit his lip, but the moan still escaped his lips. 

“Damn…” Jey huffed.

I bit down on my bottom lip as my eyes closed, as the sensation was becoming too much. When I was fully seated on Jey, I began to move up and down. Jey grabbed hold of my waist and helped guide me up and down.

“You feel so good…” Jey said as he sank his fingers deeper into my waist. 

I bit my bottom lip as a tight sensation in the lower part of my stomach made me pick up my pace.  

“Jey…” I moaned.

“Cum for me..” Jey said. 

Hearing those words sent me over the edge, my climax hitting me like a ton of bricks. I collapsed on Jey’s chest as he wrapped his arms around my waist and flipped me onto my back. Once my back hit the bed, he picked up his pace, chasing his own climax. 

Before I could respond to his movements, a guttural sound left Jey’s body as his climax hit, leaving me breathless all over again.  We rode out his climax, and he pulled out of me and lay beside me. We lie on the bed next to each other, trying to catch our breath. 

“Did you blow off enough steam?” I asked as I rolled over to face him.

“Oh yeah, it was the best way to blow off the steam,” Jey said, smiling at me and giving me a kiss on the lips. 

Jey and I got up slowly and headed to the bathroom, where we cleaned up and got ready for bed. Jey stood behind me, arms wrapped around my waist, placing gentle kisses on my shoulders. 

“Don’t start nothing, Uce…” I said as I put my toothbrush on the counter. 

I walked out of the bathroom, walked into the bedroom, and got into bed. Jey followed behind me, getting into the bed on the other side. We both got under the blanket, and Jey wrapped his arms around me.

“I love you, Mama,” Jey said. 

“Love you more.”

Before I knew it, a light snore came from the other side of the bed. I looked over, and Jey was fast asleep. I smiled and gave him a light kiss on his pouty lip, rolled over to my side, and let sleep overtake me. 

The End. 

Tag List:

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[shes2real]

life was fucking me so i’m fucking back! here’s shy gf x gooner!jimmy :)))) randomly came up w this after hearing him say “they call me big jim for a reason”

you were sitting in the chair, your legs parted just enough to let him settle between them, his body relaxed on the floor as his wrist rested against your thigh while your tongue peeked out in concentration. you slowly, carefully dragged the head of the comb from the tip of his nose through his scalp. the teeth gliding softly against his hair as you worked, parting it with a gentleness that didn’t match the slight tremble in your hands.

you smacked your lips, leaning forward a little, squinting at the line you’d made. it wasn’t straight…not even close.

“ugh! i thought it was straight!”

“what’s wrong, baby?” he says, starting to turn his head, but you immediately guide him back into place with a soft hand.

“don’t move,” you huff, nudging him forward again before sighing. “your part is crooked and it looks ugly!”

“it’s okay, mama.”

“it is?” you ask, still frowning, your eyes hyper fixated on the part as he nods.

“don’t worry abt that, babygirl. you good.”

your fingers brush over the part again, tracing the soft zigzag of it, “but… what if it looks weird? like… what if the part is… curvy and it’s just…”

“this dick got a curve,” he says casually, like he’s talking about the weather. “would that bother you?”

you’re not sure if he’s serious or playing so your head tilts, like a puppy trying to make sense of a sound. “huh?”

“you upset over the part being crooked… but if i was inside of you, would that be an issue too?” you get what he’s trying to say, but it’s still a terrible comparison.

your fingers tap lightly against his shoulder as you think, “hmm, well…it depends…”

he turns, watching you now.

“…does it curve to the left or the right?”

a slow grin tugs at his lips, “you wanna find out?”

you can’t say you accomplished his hair, but he is proud of you for allowing your curiosity to get the best of you. your inquisitive yet naive question is what got you in the deck chair position. your legs pulled tight to your chest, hooked loosely over his shoulders as he hovers over you. his hands come up, cupping your face as he presses slow kisses across your cheeks, your temple, and the corner of your mouth. you let out a shaky breath, “it’s t-t-too…too biggg!”

“make room for me, baby.” he leans back slightly as he replies, his hands slipping from the back of your head. one settles against your hip, holding you in place while the other drifts to your clit. his fingers are tapping and petting it as a quiet breath leaves your mouth, your fingers tighten around his biceps. jimmy, himself, lets out low moans of approval as he spreads the top of your folds and rubbing gently against your clit.

“c’mon, wet this dick up…it feel good?”

you answer him with the softest little whimper, embarrassed almost as soon as it leaves your mouth. if anyone else ever saw you like this, you think you’d die on the spot. but this was jimmy, he makes you feel so safe.

his middle and ring fingers are slick w your wetness as he pressed down to apply a little pressure so he could feel your sensitive clit pulsing under his fingertips. “wanna try again, ma?” he suggested as a gentle reminder before he made you cum too early.

he could see the gears in your head turning, you wanted him so bad, even if you’re too timid to say. he pulled his fingers away, his eyes never leaving yours as he sucked them clean. he began easing you into the deck chair position again, his forearms rested beside your head while your knees stayed tucked close to your chest.

you couldn’t help but think of how he made you feel so good with just his fingertips. and while his hands rested behind your head, your mind thinks of what’s to come while you’re pinned under him.

his mouth finds your neck again, sucking and kissing the delicate skin there as he slowly rocks into you. he uses this moment to assess your comfort levels… the louder your moans got, the deeper he went. the more your eyes rolled, the harder he rolled his hips.

he keeps hitting those nerve endings inside of you, brushing against that sweet spot effortlessly. there’s your answer, like it’s come full circle. it curves just right, it doesn’t take long before you’re overwhelmed by it. he doesn’t let go of you, holding you close as he keeps punching that same spot again and again.

“…plea, pleaseeee! baeeee,” you cry out, clinging to him. your fingers are desperately grabbing at his arms, his back, anything to hold onto. his pace made your hands slip lower down his forearms, your grip getting weaker by the second. one of his hands stayed tangled in your hair while the other gripped your throat.

“mhm, you like that? that curve hitting yo spot, mama?” he smirks, squeezing your neck just a little harder before finally crashing his mouth against yours. you pulled away first, soft broken sounds falling from your lips that sounded like his name. his soft belly pressed against your lower belly as he coaxed an orgasm out of you.

you pout, a shaky whine falling from your lips. “i’m…i think…i-“

“i know, gimme that nut lil mama”

the wind is knocked clean out of you as your legs clamp around his neck, he keeps you close as he tells you how much he loves you.

then, he reminds you you’re still finishing his hair after this.

[worldheavyeetchamp]

via instagram

[yeetandnoyeet]

[isabella-2025]

Her Tribal Heart

Pair: Roman Reigns X Liv Morgan

Plot: Liv Morgan never meant to fall back into Roman Reigns’ orbit, but Italy pulls them together in ways neither of them can ignore. After Jacob Fatu’s acknowledgment and Liv’s chaotic interference on SmackDown, the two find themselves circling each other through jealousy, stolen moments, and quiet confessions behind closed doors. In Bologna, secrets get harder to hide, feelings get harder to deny, and Jimmy Uso walks in at the worst possible time — again. Some hearts don’t belong to the crowd. Some hearts belong to each other.

okay so… this one has been living in my head since italy and i finally let it out. the song for this fic is “I Wanna Be Yours” by Arctic Monkeys — it just fits the quiet intensity, the jealousy, the grounding, all of it.

i love writing for this pairing so much, like it’s actually ridiculous how fast they take over my brain. roman & liv just have this pull, this gravity, this soft little heartbeat that won’t leave me alone… so yes, there will absolutely be more coming. 😊❤️🤍

June 1st — RAW, Turin, Italy

The hallway behind Gorilla was buzzing — crew rushing equipment, producers shouting cues in Italian and English, the low rumble of the crowd bleeding through the concrete walls. Liv Morgan stood off to the side, hood up, arms crossed, pretending she was just waiting for her travel call.

She wasn’t.

She was watching the monitor.

Watching him.

Jacob Fatu stood in the ring, chest heaving, voice raw as he paced around the mic. The crowd in Turin was loud — louder than Liv expected — but Roman Reigns didn’t flinch. He stood there like a storm waiting to break.

Jacob’s voice cracked through the speakers:

“That tribal combat… I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew the consequences. I knew the repercussions.”

Liv swallowed hard.

She shouldn’t care.

She shouldn’t react.

She shouldn’t feel anything.

But she did.

She always did.

Jacob kept going, louder now, more emotional:

“Hell, I been taking Ls my whole life! It ain’t nothing new to me! Taking Ls my whole life brought me right here, standing right here in front of you right now.”

The crowd roared.

Liv’s breath hitched.

She hated that she understood that feeling — the weight of expectations, the pressure of eyes on you, the fear of disappointing the people you love.

Jacob’s voice softened.

“Last night, Clash in Italy… in front of the whole world… including my children. My children seen they father be a man, take a loss, and keep his word.”

Liv blinked hard.

She wasn’t emotional. She wasn’t.

Then Jacob said it — the words that made the entire arena shake:

“And last night… I lost to my Tribal Chief.”

The crowd exploded.

Liv’s chest tightened.

Roman didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

He just stared at Jacob like he’d been waiting for this moment.

Jacob turned, pointing at Jey, voice sharp:

“But I didn’t lose to your punk ass, Jey!”

Liv almost laughed — almost — but her eyes stayed locked on Roman.

Then Jacob’s voice dropped, low and reverent:

“Roman… I acknowledge you.”

The crowd ERUPTED.

Liv’s heart did too.

She hated that.

She hated how her pulse jumped.

She hated how her breath caught.

She hated how her fingers curled into the sleeves of her hoodie like she needed to hold herself together.

Roman didn’t smile.

Didn’t gloat.

Didn’t move.

He just absorbed it — the acknowledgment, the power, the moment.

And Liv felt it like a punch to the ribs.

Jacob kept talking — something about love, something about warnings, something about the Bloodline growing stronger — but Liv barely heard it.

She was too busy watching Roman.

Too busy feeling that familiar pull in her chest.

Too busy remembering the last time she’d been this close to him.

The segment ended.

The music hit.

The crowd roared.

And Roman walked through the curtain.

Liv froze.

He was still breathing hard, sweat dripping down his spine, eyes dark and unreadable. Crew members stepped aside instinctively, giving him space.

He didn’t look at them.

He looked at her.

Just for a second.

Just long enough.

Liv’s breath stuttered.

Roman didn’t stop.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t acknowledge her.

But he slowed.

Just slightly.

Just enough for her to know he saw her.

Just enough for her to feel it.

Just enough for her to know:

Tonight wasn’t over.

Not for him.

Not for her.

Not for them.

The second Liv slipped inside Roman’s locker room, she shut the door quietly behind her and pressed her back to it, heart pounding like she’d just run a marathon.

Roman didn’t look up right away.

He sat on the bench, elbows on his knees, breathing slow and heavy — the kind of breathing that meant he was still half in the ring, half in the moment Jacob acknowledged him.

Then he lifted his head.

And the second his eyes found her, everything in him softened.

“Liv,” he murmured, voice low, warm, familiar.

Liv pushed her hood back, trying to look casual even though her pulse was sprinting. “You’re getting real comfortable making people kneel for you.”

Roman’s lips curved — not a smirk, not a grin, just that soft, private smile he only ever gave her.

“Yeah,” he said, standing slowly, “but I don’t kneel for anyone.”

He stepped closer.

Close enough that she felt the heat of him.

Close enough that her breath caught.

“Except you,” he finished quietly.

Liv’s cheeks warmed — she hated that he could do that to her with one sentence.

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but her voice wasn’t steady.

Roman tilted his head. “And you’re here again.”

Liv shrugged, trying to hide the way her chest tightened. “Someone had to check on you. You looked… intense out there.”

Roman huffed a soft laugh. “You watched.”

“Everyone watched,” she said.

“But you felt it,” Roman murmured.

Liv opened her mouth to argue — A knock hit the door.

Hard.

Liv’s eyes went wide.

Roman’s posture snapped straight.

“Yo, Tribal Chief, you in there?” someone called from the hallway.

Liv panicked.

Roman pointed behind him — toward the couch.

Liv dove behind it so fast she nearly face‑planted, crouching low, pulling her hood over her head like it would make her invisible.

Roman cleared his throat, mask sliding back into place.

“Yeah,” he called out. “Come in.”

The door opened.

A crew member poked his head in. “Roman, production needs you for a quick reshoot. Two minutes.”

Roman nodded. “I’ll be there.”

The door shut again.

Silence.

Liv slowly peeked over the back of the couch.

Roman was already looking at her.

And he was smiling.

“You good down there?” he asked.

Liv glared. “Don’t talk to me.”

Roman chuckled — soft, warm, the sound that always made her chest loosen. “You’re the one hiding behind furniture.”

Liv stood, brushing off her hoodie. “Because you didn’t warn me someone was coming!”

“I didn’t know,” Roman said, stepping closer again. “But you handled it.”

“Barely.”

Roman reached out — slow, gentle — and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You always do.”

Liv swallowed hard.

Roman stepped even closer, lowering his voice. “Meet me later.”

Liv shook her head.

Roman blinked. “What?”

Liv lifted her chin, eyes locked on his.

“No,” she said softly. “You meet me.”

Roman’s brows lifted — surprised, intrigued, a little thrown off in the best way.

“Where?” he asked.

Liv smirked — small, dangerous, confident.

“Bologna,” she whispered. “June 5th. After the show.”

Roman’s breath hitched.

Just slightly.

Just enough for her to see it.

“You’re giving orders now?” he murmured.

Liv shrugged. “Someone has to.”

Roman’s smile was slow, warm, and devastating.

“I’ll be there.”

Liv pulled her hood up again, backing toward the door.

“You better,” she said.

Roman watched her slip out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

And for the first time all night, he felt something settle in his chest.

Something steady.

Something dangerous.

Something that belonged only to her.

June 5th 2026 Friday Night Smackdown Roman Reigns sat in the private locker room WWE gave him for international shows — dim lights, cold water bottles, the low hum of the arena vibrating through the walls. He’d finished his media, finished his meetings, finished everything he needed to do.

But he didn’t leave.

He stayed.

Because he knew Liv was on the show tonight.

The monitor flickered, showing the chaos of the fatal four‑way. Trick Williams. Bron Breakker. Damian Priest. Dominik Mysterio.

Roman wasn’t watching them.

He was watching the ringside camera.

Waiting for her.

The match was already insane — bodies flying, Breakker hitting that torpedo spear, Priest nearly taking Trick’s head off — but Roman barely reacted.

Until the camera caught her.

Liv Morgan.

At ringside.

Eyes sharp. Jaw tight. Hands gripping the apron like she was seconds away from jumping in.

Roman leaned forward.

Just slightly.

The commentary spiked:

“Dominik pulls the official out of the ring!”

Roman exhaled through his nose.

Of course he did.

Then JD McDonagh ran in — and Roman’s jaw tightened. Judgment Day always moved like they were trying to impress someone.

But then—

Liv moved.

Fast.

Sharp.

Dangerous.

The camera barely caught it, but Roman did.

The low blow.

Clean.

Precise.

Perfectly timed.

The crowd screamed.

Dominik hit the 619.

Then the frog splash.

Then the three count.

The bell rang.

Roman didn’t move.

He just stared at the screen, eyes locked on Liv as she smirked at ringside, chest rising and falling with adrenaline, hair wild, eyes bright with that chaotic fire she always carried.

The fire he knew too well.

The fire he’d calmed more times than he could count.

He whispered it under his breath, barely audible:

“Liv…”

She looked good.

Too good.

Too dangerous.

Too much like the woman who’d told him — with that little smirk — to meet her in Bologna.

Roman leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

She was spiraling again.

Not out of control — just… burning too hot.

And he felt it.

He always felt it.

A knock hit his door.

“Roman, you need anything before you head out?”

Roman didn’t look away from the screen.

“No.”

The crew member left.

Roman kept watching Liv — the way she walked up the ramp with Dom, the way she tossed her hair, the way she didn’t look back at the camera even though she knew millions were watching.

But she wasn’t performing for them.

She was performing for herself.

And maybe…

maybe for him.

Roman exhaled slowly.

“Bologna,” he murmured.

She told him to meet her there.

And after seeing this?

He wasn’t missing it.

Not for anything.

Roman Reigns had been sitting in the same spot for almost ten minutes — elbows on his knees, eyes locked on the monitor, replaying the finish of the match over and over.

The low blow.

The timing.

The way Liv didn’t hesitate.

The way she walked off like she owned the whole arena.

He wasn’t surprised.

He was proud.

And he was waiting.

Liv always came to him after moments like that — after she burned too hot, after she made a choice she wasn’t supposed to, after she needed grounding.

But tonight?

Nothing.

No soft knock.

No quick slip through the door.

No hoodie disappearing into his room.

Roman’s jaw tightened.

He checked the hallway camera feed on the monitor.

Still nothing.

Finally, he stood.

Slow.

Controlled.

But tense.

He cracked the locker room door open just enough to look down the hallway.

And there she was.

Liv Morgan.

Hood down, hair messy from the match, cheeks flushed, laughing at something JD McDonagh said. JD wasn’t flirting — he was talking with his hands, smiling politely, clearly just being friendly.

But Roman didn’t see “friendly.”

He saw Liv smiling at someone else.

He saw JD standing too close.

He saw Liv not coming to him.

His jaw flexed.

Hard.

He stepped fully into the doorway.

Liv didn’t see him yet — she was already walking away from JD, heading down the hall, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching.

She was coming to him.

Roman’s chest loosened.

Just a little.

Liv reached his door, hand lifting to the handle—

Roman grabbed her wrist gently and pulled her inside before she could even breathe.

The door shut behind them with a soft click.

Liv blinked up at him, startled. “Roman—”

He wasn’t angry.

He wasn’t loud.

He wasn’t rough.

He was just… intense.

Quiet. Focused. Eyes locked on hers like she was the only thing in the room.

“You didn’t come in,” he said softly.

Liv swallowed. “I was going to.”

“You talked to JD first.”

Liv blinked. “He was just being nice.”

Roman didn’t look away.

“I know.”

But his voice was tight.

Liv stepped closer, lowering her hood. “You jealous?”

Roman didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

Liv’s expression softened. “Roman… I was coming here. To you.”

Roman exhaled — slow, controlled, like he’d been holding his breath since the match ended.

“You always do,” he murmured.

Liv smiled — small, warm, real. “Yeah. I do.”

Roman finally relaxed, just enough for the tension in his shoulders to drop.

“You hit that low blow clean,” he said quietly.

Liv smirked. “You watched?”

Roman’s eyes softened. “I always watch.”

Liv’s cheeks warmed — not from embarrassment, but from something steadier, deeper.

She stepped even closer, close enough that her shoulder brushed his.

“I told you to find me in Bologna,” she whispered.

Roman nodded. “And you came to me first.”

Liv shrugged. “Someone had to.”

Roman’s lips twitched — the smallest hint of a smile.

“Come here,” he said softly.

Liv stepped into his space without hesitation.

Roman rested his forehead against hers for a moment — quiet, steady, the way he always calmed her and the way she always calmed him.

“You scared me,” he murmured.

Liv blinked. “Why?”

“You didn’t come in right away.”

Liv smiled. “Roman… I’m here.”

Roman closed his eyes for a second, letting the moment settle.

“Good,” he whispered. “Stay.”

Liv nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time since the match ended, Roman felt steady again.

Because she was here.

Because she always came back.

Because she was his heart —

even if no one else knew it.

Roman didn’t move right away.

He kept his forehead resting against Liv’s, breathing her in, letting the last of the adrenaline drain out of his body. Liv’s hands were still curled lightly in the fabric of his shirt, her thumbs brushing absent circles against his ribs — grounding him without even realizing she was doing it.

For a moment, the world outside didn’t exist.

No crowd. No Bloodline. No Judgment Day. No chaos.

Just them.

Liv pulled back first — only an inch — her eyes soft, her cheeks still warm from everything that had just happened.

“You okay now?” she whispered.

Roman nodded once. “Yeah. You calm me down.”

Liv smiled — small, shy, the kind she only ever let him see. “Good. Someone has to.”

Roman huffed a quiet laugh, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. He lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering against her cheek.

Liv’s breath hitched.

Roman noticed.

He didn’t tease her for it.

Instead, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

Then another to her temple.

Then one to her cheek.

Liv giggled — actually giggled — and tried to turn her head away. “Roman! Stop, that tickles!”

Roman smirked, peppering another kiss to the other side of her face. “Then be quiet.”

“I am quiet!” she whispered, laughing harder.

“No,” Roman murmured, kissing the tip of her nose, “you’re giggling.”

Liv shoved his chest lightly, face bright red. “You’re impossible.”

Roman wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer — not too close, not inappropriate, just enough to keep her steady.

“And you’re loud,” he teased.

Liv gasped dramatically. “I am NOT!”

Roman kissed her cheek again.

Liv squeaked.

Roman grinned. “See?”

Liv covered her face with both hands. “Roman, someone’s gonna hear—”

And then—

The door handle rattled.

Both of them froze.

Roman’s eyes widened.

Liv’s soul left her body.

The door swung open.

“Hey Uce—”

Jimmy stepped inside.

Stopped dead.

Stared.

Roman and Liv were standing way too close. Liv’s face was beet red. Roman still had his hand on her waist. Liv still had kiss‑marks on her cheeks.

Jimmy blinked once.

Twice.

Then—

“OH COME ON, MAN! AGAIN?!”

Liv slapped her hands over her face. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Roman closed his eyes like he was begging the universe for patience. “Jimmy.”

Jimmy pointed at them dramatically. “WHY is it ALWAYS ME?! I swear, I’m cursed! I walk in at the EXACT wrong moment EVERY TIME!”

Liv groaned into her hands. “Please leave.”

Jimmy backed out of the doorway, still ranting. “I’m telling Solo. I’m telling Jey. I’m telling EVERYBODY—”

Roman snapped, “JIMMY.”

Jimmy froze.

“…I’m telling nobody,” he corrected quickly. “Nobody at all. Didn’t see a thing. Didn’t hear a thing. Didn’t walk in on anything.”

He backed out like he was escaping a crime scene.

The door shut.

Silence.

Liv slowly lowered her hands, face still bright red. “I hate him.”

Roman sighed. “He’s never gonna let us live this down.”

Liv nudged him with her shoulder. “At least he didn’t walk in while you were—”

Roman raised a brow. “While I was what?”

Liv’s face went red again. “Nothing.”

Roman smirked — soft, warm, teasing. “That’s what I thought.”

Liv groaned. “You’re the worst.”

Roman leaned his forehead against hers again, voice quiet and steady.

“And you’re mine.”

Liv’s heart stuttered.

She didn’t argue.

She didn’t tease.

She just whispered back:

“Yeah. I am.”

The End

TAGLIST

@trippinsorrows @acute-crashout-jeyuso @empressdede @punksyeet @uceyliyahh @femdisa @mytribalnightmare @eringobragh420 @southerngirl41 @officialeve24 @usoinked @bossbitch-22 @madhatterbri @purplementalitybluebird @bloodlinemadness @holycollectivekitty @jstarr86 @livslunaticdamiansdisciple18 @duhitzkay380 @bloodlinesbabe93 @theusotwinzcom @thebigredmonster @chynagirl13 @mamis-girly @transparentphantomface @amazinggirlsstuff @spiicii @mselenalovebug @sharmelasworld @moxley99 @crazylady20 @myleelovesfood @jeysbitch @skyesthebomb @fafomama @keenagurl @chocobuttabaybee @terrortwinunicorn @mamis-girly2 @lovelyjay45 @wwestrang-fan @bossbitch-25 @xnightmarexpunkx @ctinadiva @nash2023 @ztrek808 phoebe0391 @bigbackbri @armanihouse @bibonacita23 @scorpiodivazchamp @pruningthebreeze @dwill484 @rememberingvirgo

[sharmelasworld]

Umm yes... can i have a minute

[isabella-2025]

Fault Lines 12 Warnings: Panic Attack

Pair: Jimmy X Trinity and Jey USO X Reader

Plot: When a heated in‑ring confrontation exposes growing tension between Jimmy and Jey Uso, the cracks in their family bond begin to spread far beyond the cameras. Trinity tries to hold the brothers together, but even she can feel the shift — the same instinct she’s always trusted telling her they’re no longer on the same page. As the pressure builds backstage, the reader becomes an unexpected anchor for Jey, the one person he lets see the hurt beneath the bravado. Meanwhile, Jimmy and Trinity face their own strain as the weight of loyalty, legacy, and love pulls in every direction. In a world built on family, performance, and unspoken expectations, the Usos must confront the fractures forming beneath their feet — and decide whether they’ll break apart or find a way back to each other. A slow‑burn emotional drama about brothers, marriage, and the unexpected connections that form when everything starts to fall apart.

okay so… yeah. this chapter wrecked me. like actually had me emotional because POOR JIMMY. what is wwe even doing with him at this point because it’s getting embarrassing.

“haircut” fits this chapter way too well — the whole “i’m trying to change but i don’t know how” energy? that’s literally jimmy’s entire arc right now. he’s breaking, he’s scared, he’s trying so hard, and everything around him is falling apart. 🤍😊❤️

Wednesday May 27th 2026

Jimmy woke up reaching for warmth that wasn’t there.

His hand slid across cold sheets, the kind of cold that didn’t come from the AC… the kind that came from absence. From silence. From someone choosing to sleep anywhere but beside you.

He blinked up at the ceiling for a long second, chest tight in that way it had been since Monday night. Since the hospital. Since everything.

“Trin…?” His voice cracked on her name.

Nothing answered him back.

No footsteps.

No soft “yeah babe?”

No rustle of blankets.

Just the quiet hum of the house and the ache in his ribs that had nothing to do with being hit.

He sat up slowly, palms dragging down his face. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. Didn’t remember climbing into bed. Didn’t remember the last time Trinity looked at him like she still recognized him.

He called her name again, softer this time, like maybe she was hiding in the shadows of the hallway.

Still nothing.

Jimmy pushed himself out of bed, feet hitting the floor heavier than usual. He padded down the stairs, hoping—praying—she’d be curled up on the couch, or in the kitchen, or anywhere that wasn’t “gone.”

But the living room was empty.

The kitchen was empty.

The whole damn house felt hollow.

Then he saw it.

A sticky note on the fridge, slapped over the calendar like it was holding the whole month together.

“Jey — Release Day.”

That was it.

No heart.

No smiley face.

No “love you.”

Just a reminder. A fact. A line drawn in ink.

Jimmy stared at it like it was written in another language.

Trinity had been at the hospital every day.

She hadn’t slept beside him since Jey collapsed.

She hadn’t spoken to him except in clipped, necessary sentences.

And today… Today was the day Jey was getting released.

Jimmy swallowed hard, throat burning. He reached up and touched the note with the tip of his finger, like maybe it would tell him what to do. Like maybe it would tell him how to fix this.

It didn’t.

He pulled his phone out with shaking hands and called Trinity.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Voicemail.

He tried again.

Voicemail.

He texted her anyway.

“You at the hospital.”

Delivered. Not read.

His stomach dropped.

He tried Jey next.

Straight to voicemail.

He tried again.

Same thing.

Jimmy pressed the phone to his forehead, eyes squeezing shut.

“Come on, Uce…” he whispered to no one.

But the house stayed quiet.

The note stayed stuck to the fridge.

And Jimmy felt the weight of everything he’d done—and everything he hadn’t—settle right on top of him. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------= The hospital room felt different that morning.

Not heavy like before.

Not buzzing with panic or machines or fear.

Just… quiet.

Soft.

Like the world finally decided to give Jey a break.

He sat on the edge of the bed, hoodie half‑zipped, hair tied back, eyes still a little tired but clearer than they’d been in days. You were standing in front of him, holding the little plastic bag the nurse gave you—meds, discharge papers, instructions written in handwriting only doctors could read.

Jey rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed. “Baby… I’m good. I promise.”

You raised a brow at him. “Uh‑huh. And that’s why the doctor gave you a whole list of rules like you’re on probation.”

He cracked a tiny smile, the kind that made your chest warm. “Man… don’t start.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice. “I’m not starting. I’m making sure you don’t end up right back in this bed.”

He sighed, but it wasn’t annoyed. It was soft. Grateful. Like he knew you were the only thing keeping him steady.

The doctor knocked lightly before stepping in, flipping through the chart.

“Alright, Jey,” he said, tone calm but firm. “Your vitals look good. No dizziness this morning?”

Jey shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Any chest tightness? Shortness of breath?”

“No.”

“Good.” The doctor nodded, then looked between the two of you. “You’re cleared to go home today. But—” he lifted a finger, “you need to follow the restrictions we talked about.”

You nodded before Jey could even open his mouth. “No overstimulation. No stress. No long days. No heavy physical activity. No emotional spikes.”

Jey groaned. “Damn, y’all act like I’m eighty.”

The doctor didn’t even blink. “You had a panic‑induced collapse. Your nervous system is still sensitive. You push yourself too hard, you’ll end up right back here.”

You shot Jey a look that said see?

He muttered something under his breath and looked away.

Then Jey cleared his throat. “So… uh… I got a question.”

The doctor glanced up. “Yes?”

“If I… if I wanted to travel? Just for a couple days. Nothin’ crazy. No match. Just a small backstage thing. Is that okay?”

The doctor hesitated. You felt Jey tense beside you.

Finally, he said:

“It’s allowed. But only if you rest the entire day before. And only if someone stays with you at all times. And if you feel overwhelmed—even a little—you stop immediately.”

Jey nodded slowly.

“Bet. I can do that.”

You squeezed his hand. “We can do that.”

The doctor smiled faintly.

“Good. I’ll get your final paperwork.”

He stepped out, and the room fell quiet again.

Jey let out a long breath, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. “You really think I can do this?”

You slid your fingers into his hair, gentle. “I think you can do anything… as long as you don’t try to do it alone.”

He closed his eyes at that, like the words hit somewhere deep.

The door opened again—this time without a knock.

Trinity stepped inside, hair pulled back, eyes tired but warm when they landed on Jey.

“There he is,” she said softly. “My boy’s finally gettin’ outta here.”

Jey smiled, small but real. “Hey, Trin.”

She walked over and kissed the top of his head, then looked at you.

“I’m here to help get him home and packed,” she said. “We got a flight to catch.”

Jey blinked. “Wait… today?”

Trinity nodded.

“Yeah, baby. Italy ain’t gonna wait for us.”

You felt Jey’s fingers tighten around yours.

And for the first time since the collapse…

he looked hopeful.

Jimmy got to the airport early.

Not because he wanted to.

Because he couldn’t sit in that house anymore.

Not with Trinity’s silence echoing louder than any argument ever could.

He stood near the check‑in area, hood up, hands shoved deep in his pockets, watching people move around him like he wasn’t even there. WWE crew. Superstars. Producers. Everyone talking, laughing, dragging suitcases.

Everyone except him.

Trinity walked up a few minutes later, rolling her suitcase behind her. She didn’t smile. Didn’t touch him. But she did say, quietly:

“Hey.”

Jimmy swallowed. “Hey.”

She sat beside him in the waiting area, pulling a book out of her bag. She opened it, eyes scanning the page, but Jimmy could tell she wasn’t really reading. She was awake. Present. But far away from him.

He wanted to say something.

Anything.

But the words stayed stuck in his throat.

They boarded early with the rest of the roster.

Jimmy slid into his seat by the aisle.

Trinity sat beside him, still reading, still silent.

He kept glancing toward the boarding door, waiting to see Jey.

Waiting to see you.

But you didn’t come through the gate until the very end.

Jey walked in first, hood up, moving slow but steady.

You were right behind him, clutching your bag, eyes wide as you looked at the plane like it was a monster with wings.

Jimmy’s breath caught.

He hadn’t seen Jey since the hospital.

He hadn’t seen you since before the collapse.

And the way Jey stayed close to you —

the way you stayed close to him —

it hit Jimmy harder than he expected.

You and Jey found your seats a few rows ahead, across the aisle.

Jimmy tried not to stare.

Tried to focus on the safety card in the seat pocket.

Tried to pretend he wasn’t waiting for something to go wrong.

Then the engines started.

You flinched so hard your whole body jerked.

Jey immediately turned toward you.

“Hey, hey… look at me,” he whispered, cupping your cheek. “Don’t look outside.”

Your breathing quickened.

Your fingers trembled.

Your eyes filled with panic.

“I can’t—Jey, I can’t—”

“Yes you can.”

His voice was soft, steady.

“You with me. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

The plane began to taxi.

You grabbed his hoodie with both hands, knuckles white.

Jey pulled you into his chest, one hand on the back of your head, the other rubbing slow circles on your arm.

“Breathe with me,” he murmured. “In… and out. Just like that.”

Jimmy watched.

He didn’t mean to.

He didn’t want to.

But he couldn’t look away.

He watched you shake.

He watched Jey hold you.

He watched Jey whisper something soft against your hair.

And then —

right as the plane lifted off the ground —

Jey tilted your chin up and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

Not deep.

Not heated.

Just soft.

Reassuring. Loving.

Jimmy’s heart dropped straight into his stomach.

He turned to Trinity, desperate to say something — anything — to break the pressure building in his chest.

“Baby… can I talk to you for a sec—”

But she was asleep.

Head leaned against the window.

Book closed in her lap.

Completely unaware.

Jimmy stared at her, throat tight.

He felt eyes on him.

He turned.

Jacob was watching from the row behind.

Not judging.

Not smirking.

Just… seeing him.

Seeing everything.

Jacob leaned forward slightly, voice low.

“You good, Uce?”

Jimmy opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Jacob nodded once — slow, understanding — and sat back.

Jimmy faced forward again, blinking hard, trying to breathe through the ache in his chest.

Jey was holding you.

Trinity was asleep.

Jacob saw right through him.

And Jimmy realized something he didn’t want to admit:

Italy wasn’t going to fix anything.

Italy was where everything was finally going to break.

Time Skip Sunday, May 31st — Turin Italy

Italy was warm that morning.

Not hot.

Not heavy.

Just warm enough that the breeze felt soft when it drifted through the open hotel windows.

It should’ve felt peaceful.

But for Jimmy?

It felt like the world was moving on without him.

He stood in the hallway outside the hotel rooms, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t pacing. He wasn’t fidgeting. He was just… standing there. Watching. Thinking too much.

Trinity walked past him with her hair tied up, sunglasses on, a tote bag over her shoulder. She didn’t stop. Didn’t touch him. Didn’t even look at him for more than a second.

“Morning,” she said quietly.

Jimmy swallowed. “Morning.”

That was it.

No kiss.

No smile.

No “you sleep okay?”

Just a word tossed over her shoulder as she kept walking.

The distance between them wasn’t loud.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It wasn’t a fight.

It was worse.

It was quiet.

The kind of quiet that meant something was breaking.

Jimmy stayed where he was, staring at the carpet, until he heard a soft laugh drift from down the hall.

He looked up.

Your door was cracked open.

He didn’t mean to look.

He didn’t mean to listen.

But he couldn’t help it.

Inside, Jey was sitting on the edge of the bed, hoodie on, legs stretched out, head leaning against the wall. You were kneeling in front of him, tying the drawstring on his sweatpants because his hands were shaking just a little.

“You don’t gotta do all that,” Jey mumbled.

You smiled at him.

“I know. But I want to.”

Jey’s eyes softened in a way Jimmy hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Come on,” you said gently. “Let’s get some air. Just for a few minutes.”

Jey nodded, slow and tired.

You helped him up, your hand sliding into his like it belonged there.

Jimmy’s chest tightened.

He stepped back into the shadow of the hallway as you and Jey walked out. You didn’t see him. Jey didn’t see him. You were too focused on each other.

You led Jey outside to the courtyard, guiding him to a bench under a patch of sunlight. He sat down with a soft exhale, leaning into you like your presence was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You brushed his hair back.

You handed him water.

You rubbed his back when he closed his eyes.

Jimmy watched from the balcony above.

He wasn’t spying.

He wasn’t creeping.

He was just… watching the life he used to be part of.

The life he wasn’t sure he belonged in anymore.

Trinity came back a little later, carrying a coffee. She walked right past Jimmy again, barely glancing at him.

“You eat yet?” she asked, not stopping.

“No.”

“You should.”

Then she kept walking.

Jimmy stared at her back, feeling something inside him sink lower and lower.

He didn’t know how to talk to her.

He didn’t know how to fix this.

He didn’t know how to fix anything.

He looked back down at the courtyard.

You were laughing softly at something Jey said.

Jey was smiling at you like you were the only safe place in the world.

Jimmy’s throat tightened.

He wasn’t angry.

He wasn’t jealous.

He was scared.

Scared that he’d already lost his brother.

Scared that he was losing Trinity.

Scared that he was losing himself.

And the worst part?

Nobody noticed.

Not yet.

Not until he broke.

June 1st — Monday Night RAW Turin, Italy

RAW opened with a video package of Clash in Italy.

Rhea retaining.

Cody retaining.

Sol Ruca holding her first main roster title.

And then the brutal tribal combat match.

Jimmy stood in gorilla with Trinity beside him, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching the highlights like someone was replaying a wound that hadn’t healed yet.

Roman beating Jacob.

Jacob falling.

Jey walking out calm.

Jey placing the Ula Fala around Roman’s neck.

Roman smiling like a king.

Jimmy staring at Jacob.

Jacob staring right back.

The crowd in the arena roared.

Jimmy’s stomach twisted.

A producer waved them forward.

“You’re up.”

Roman walked first. Jey followed. Jimmy followed last.

You stood backstage with your hands clasped, nervous, watching Jey walk out. He gave you a small nod — the kind only you would notice — and you mouthed, I’m right here.

Jimmy saw it.

He felt it.

He looked away.

Roman stood in the center of the ring.

Jimmy on his right.

Jey on his left.

Jacob across from them.

The crowd was loud.

The lights were blinding.

The air felt heavy.

Jacob lifted the mic.

“At Tribal Combat I knew what I was getting myself into… I knew the consequences… I knew the repercussions… hell I knew what would happen if I walked out with that title last night… and I knew what would happen if I lost… hell I’ve been taking L’s my whole life.”

The crowd cheered.

Jimmy swallowed.

Jacob continued.

“My children seen their father be a man… take a loss… keep his word. And last night… I lost to my Tribal Chief.”

The crowd erupted.

Jacob turned toward Jey.

“But I didn’t lose to your punk ass, Jey.”

Jey smirked.

Jimmy felt the tension spike.

Jacob turned back to Roman.

“Let’s keep it one hundred… Roman… I acknowledge you.”

Jacob dropped to one knee, bowed his head, and reached his hand out.

Roman took it and pulled him into an embrace.

Jimmy felt something cold settle in his chest.

Roman turned toward the hard cam.

Jey stepped to his left.

Jacob walked over toward Jimmy — but not beside him.

Jimmy forced a smile.

“It’s on now, Jacob. You here now, baby. And this is a message to everybody in that locker room — this is a warning shot. They the twos… and we the ones.”

Jacob stepped behind Jimmy and raised the one with the others.

The crowd roared.

The show cut to commercial.

Jimmy’s heart was pounding.

After Sol Ruca’s breakout segment, the show cut to a tense replay of Roman and Cody staring each other down after Clash.

Then the camera cut backstage — live.

Roman stood with Jey, Jimmy, and Jacob.

You were off to the side, watching with your arms crossed, worry etched all over your face. Trinity stood beside you, silent, tense.

Roman looked at Jey.

“You’ve had this one… but you’ve never tasted the other one. I need you to go win at King of the Ring. Take it. Go to SummerSlam and take the other one. Don’t ever forget, bro — there’s two wins at the table. I need you to level up.”

Jey dabbed him up.

“Yeet uce… love.”

Roman nodded.

“Respect.”

Jey turned to walk away.

You immediately stepped toward him, touching his arm, checking his breathing, whispering something soft. Jey leaned into you without thinking.

Jimmy saw it.

He felt it.

He hated how much it hurt.

Jimmy moved to follow Jey — instinct, habit, brotherhood — but Roman’s voice cut through the hallway.

“Hey Jim… stay with me. I need you. He needs to do this on his own.”

Jimmy froze.

Jey looked back once — torn — but Roman shook his head.

Jey hesitated.

Then he walked away with you.

Your hand slid into his.

His shoulders relaxed the second you touched him.

Jimmy felt something inside him crack.

Trinity looked at him — really looked at him — and her expression softened for the first time in days.

But she didn’t touch him.

She didn’t speak.

She just watched him fall apart quietly.

Jimmy stood there beside Roman, Jacob behind him, Jey walking away with you…

And for the first time in his life?

Jimmy Uso felt like he wasn’t part of the family anymore.

Jimmy left the arena early.

He didn’t tell anyone.

Didn’t wait for the shuttle.

Didn’t look for Jey.

Didn’t look for you.

Didn’t look for Trinity.

He just walked.

Head down.

Hands in his pockets.

Heart pounding like it was trying to break out of his chest.

The hotel lobby was quiet. Too quiet.

He took the elevator up, staring at his reflection in the metal doors.

He didn’t recognize the man looking back.

He got to the room and shut the door behind him.

The silence hit him like a punch.

Old memories hit him unwarranted

Before the Tribal Chief.

Before the Bloodline.

Before the pressure.

Before the manipulation.

Before the guilt.

He remembered:

him and Jey wrestling in the backyard

Trinity laughing at them from the porch

Jey stealing his shoes

Jimmy stealing Jey’s snacks

long car rides

stupid jokes

stupid arguments

being brothers

being twins

being them

His chest tightened.

He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tight his knuckles went white.

And then Roman’s voice replayed in his head.

Not the praise.

Not the orders.

Not the manipulation.

Just the one line that gutted him:

“He needs to do this on his own.”

Jimmy’s breath hitched.

Roman didn’t mean Jey needed independence.

Roman meant:

“He doesn’t need you.”

Jimmy’s breathing picked up.

Fast.

Shallow.

Panicked.

His vision blurred.

His hands shook.

His chest burned.

He tried to breathe.

Tried to calm down.

Tried to think.

But all he heard was Roman’s voice.

“Stay with me. He needs to do this on his own.”

Jimmy pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to stop the shaking.

He couldn’t.

The door opened.

“Jim—”

She froze.

Jimmy was hunched over, shaking, gasping for air he couldn’t catch.

Her eyes widened.

“Jimmy… baby…”

She rushed forward, but he flinched — not from her, but from the panic.

Trinity’s face changed instantly.

Fear.

Then anger.

Then fury.

Not at Jimmy.

At Roman.

She stood up so fast the chair scraped the floor.

“Oh hell no,” she muttered. “I’m not doing this again.”

“Trin—” Jimmy choked out, voice breaking.

But she was already storming toward the door.

“I’m finding him,” she snapped. “I’m DONE letting him do this to you.”

The door slammed behind her.

Jimmy’s breathing got worse.

He curled forward, hands in his hair, chest heaving.

He didn’t hear the footsteps in the hallway.

Not until someone stopped in the doorway.

Jacob froze when he saw him.

“Jim?”

Jimmy didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Jacob stepped inside slowly, like approaching a wounded animal.

“Hey… hey, look at me.”

Jimmy shook his head, breath stuttering.

Jacob crouched in front of him, voice low, steady, grounding.

“Breathe with me, Uce.

In…

and out.”

Jimmy tried.

Failed.

Tried again.

Jacob put a hand on his shoulder — firm, warm, steady.

“You ain’t alone,” Jacob said quietly. “Not right now.”

Jimmy’s breathing slowed just a little.

Not fixed.

Not calm.

But not drowning.

Jacob stayed right there, grounding him, keeping him from slipping under.

Then footsteps approached.

Soft ones.

Familiar ones.

You appeared in the doorway, eyes widening when you saw Jimmy shaking, Jacob crouched in front of him.

Your first instinct was to step back.

Because Jimmy had been cold to you.

Short with you.

Suspicious of you.

You thought he hated you.

You thought he blamed you for everything.

Your hand hovered on the doorframe.

You whispered, barely audible:

“…Jimmy?”

He didn’t look up.

He didn’t even seem to hear you.

Jacob stood slowly, giving you space.

“He needs you,” Jacob said quietly. “I got him grounded… but he needs you.”

You hesitated.

Your heart pounded.

You didn’t know if Jimmy even wanted you there.

But then you saw his hands shaking.

Saw his chest heaving.

Saw the panic in his eyes.

And you couldn’t help yourself.

You stepped inside.

You knelt beside him.

“Jimmy…” you whispered, voice soft, gentle, careful. “Hey… look at me.”

He flinched — not from fear, but from shame.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, voice breaking. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

You shook your head quickly.

“No. Don’t apologize. Just breathe with me, okay? I’m right here.”

You placed your hand on his arm — light, hesitant, ready to pull back if he tensed.

He didn’t.

He leaned into it.

His breathing slowed.

Not steady.

Not calm.

But better.

Then Jimmy did something that shocked you.

He leaned forward and hugged you.

Not tight.

Not desperate.

Just gentle.

A soft, broken, sibling kind of hug.

His forehead rested on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I never hated you. I was just… scared.”

Your eyes softened.

You hugged him back — careful, grounding, steady.

“I know,” you whispered. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Jimmy exhaled shakily.

For the first time in weeks…

He didn’t feel alone.

Trinity didn’t walk down the hallway.

She marched.

Her footsteps echoed off the walls, sharp and furious, her jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. She didn’t care who saw her. Didn’t care who heard her. Didn’t care that she was still in her gear, hair half‑fallen, eyes blazing.

She was done.

Done watching Jimmy crumble.

Done watching Roman pull strings.

Done watching the family fall apart.

She turned the corner—

And there he was.

Roman Reigns.

Walking into the hotel with his bag slung over his shoulder, security trailing behind him, that same smug, unbothered smirk on his face like he owned the entire damn world.

He saw her.

And the smirk got bigger.

“Trin,” he said smoothly. “You look upset.”

She didn’t slow down.

She didn’t blink.

She stopped right in front of him, chest rising and falling with anger.

“What did you do to him?” she demanded.

Roman raised a brow.

“Who?”

“Don’t play with me,” she snapped. “Jimmy. He’s having a panic attack in our room because of you.”

Roman shrugged.

Unbothered.

Unmoved.

Uncaring.

“He’s weak,” Roman said simply.

Trinity’s breath caught.

Roman kept going.

“He always has been. That’s why I keep him close. Someone like him? He can’t handle pressure. He folds.”

Trinity’s eyes filled with tears— not sadness. Rage.

“You’re disgusting,” she whispered.

Roman smirked.

“Truth hurts.”

And that was it.

That was the moment Trinity snapped.

Her hand flew before she even realized she moved—

CRACK.

The slap echoed down the hallway.

Roman’s head jerked to the side.

Security froze.

Trinity stood there shaking, chest heaving, eyes burning.

Roman slowly turned back toward her.

The smirk was gone.

His jaw clenched.

His eyes darkened.

And he raised his hand.

Not fast.

Not dramatic.

Just deliberate.

Like he was about to teach her a lesson.

Trinity didn’t flinch.

She stared him dead in the eyes.

But before Roman’s hand could fall—

A voice cut through the hallway.

Deep.

Cold.

Dangerous.

“Hell no.”

Roman turned.

Jacob Fatu was standing there.

Arms crossed.

Shoulders squared.

Eyes locked on Roman like a predator.

“You want me to knock your ass out again?” Jacob asked, stepping forward. “’Cause I’ll do it. Right here. Right now.”

Security moved instantly, stepping between them.

Roman’s nostrils flared.

Jacob didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t back down.

Trinity stood behind Jacob, breathing hard, tears in her eyes, but her chin lifted high.

Roman lowered his hand slowly.

He didn’t apologize.

He didn’t explain.

He didn’t even look at Trinity again.

He just stared at Jacob.

A silent warning.

A silent threat.

Jacob stared right back.

Unmoved.

Unintimidated.

Unbothered.

The hallway crackled with tension.

And somewhere down the hall…

You were still holding Jimmy together.

To Be Continued

TAGLIST

@trippinsorrows @acute-crashout-jeyuso @empressdede @punksyeet @uceyliyahh @femdisa @mytribalnightmare @eringobragh420 @southerngirl41 @officialeve24 @usoinked @bossbitch-22 @madhatterbri @purplementalitybluebird @bloodlinemadness @holycollectivekitty @jstarr86 @livslunaticdamiansdisciple18 @duhitzkay380 @bloodlinesbabe93 @theusotwinzcom @thebigredmonster @chynagirl13 @mamis-girly @transparentphantomface @amazinggirlsstuff @spiicii @mselenalovebug @sharmelasworld @moxley99 @crazylady20 @myleelovesfood @jeysbitch @skyesthebomb @fafomama @keenagurl @chocobuttabaybee @terrortwinunicorn @mamis-girly2 @lovelyjay45 @wwestrang-fan @bossbitch-25 @xnightmarexpunkx @ctinadiva @nash2023 @ztrek808 phoebe0391 @bigbackbri @armanihouse @bibonacita23 @scorpiodivazchamp @pruningthebreeze @dwill484 @rememberingvirgo

[isabella-2025]

The spark beneath the crown finale

Pair: Roman Reigns X Rhea Ripley X Jey USO

Plot: The elders demand justice, and Roman—heartbroken, sleepless, and torn between love and duty—decides to pursue Rhea and Jey himself. In the forest, Rhea and Jey flee in fear and exhaustion, clinging to each other as the kingdom hunts them. Roman finds them first, and in a moment of devastating clarity, he sees the truth of their love. Instead of enforcing the law, he steps aside and lets them go, releasing Rhea from the crown and from him. When the knights arrive later, they find only Roman’s sword and cloak in the clearing—the king himself has vanished. Rumors spread for years about what became of him, while Rhea and Jey pass into legend as lovers who defied a kingdom. The truth of that final moment is never known, and the story becomes myth.

I never meant for this story to become what it did. It was supposed to be a small idea, a quick little project—but somewhere along the way, Rhea, Jey, and Roman pulled me in deeper than I planned. Writing this finale felt like closing the last page of a legend I didn’t expect to care about so much. This chapter is the ending they earned: tragic, tender, and full of choices that changed everything. The song for this chapter is “Dark Eyes Sailor,” because it carries that timeless, aching, myth‑like quality that fits the way their story fades into legend. Thank you for staying with me through this mini‑series that accidentally became so much more.🤍 😊❤️

The elders pressed in around Roman like a tightening circle. Their voices rose in overlapping demands—uphold the law, restore order, reclaim the queen. Roman stood at the center of it all, silent, his hands gripping the arms of the throne until his knuckles whitened.

He had not slept. He had not eaten. He had not stopped seeing Rhea’s face as she ran.

At last he rose.

“I will bring them back myself,” he said.

The elders bowed, relieved. The guards prepared to follow.

But Roman lifted a hand.

“No. I go alone.”

And before anyone could protest, he took his sword and walked out into the dawn.

The forest swallowed them long before the sun rose.

Rhea and Jey pushed through the underbrush with no sense of direction—only the instinct to get as far from the kingdom as their shaking legs would carry them. Branches scraped their arms, roots caught their feet, and the cold bit through their clothes, but neither dared stop until the castle walls were only a memory behind them.

When they finally collapsed beside a fallen tree, dawn was just beginning to bleed into the sky.

Jey leaned back against the trunk, chest heaving. His wrists were raw from the bindings he’d torn free of. Rhea knelt beside him, brushing trembling fingers over the angry marks.

“Does it hurt?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Not compared to the thought of losing you.”

Rhea swallowed hard. The forest was too quiet. Every rustle made her flinch. Every distant birdcall sounded like a horn from the castle.

“We can’t outrun them forever,” she said.

“I know.” Jey reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “But we don’t have to outrun the whole kingdom. Just long enough to find somewhere safe.”

She leaned into him, resting her forehead against his. “I’m scared.”

“So am I,” he admitted. “But I’d rather be scared with you than safe without you.”

Her breath trembled. “Jey… what if Roman never forgives us?”

He closed his eyes. “Then he never understood us to begin with.”

Rhea pulled back slightly, searching his face. “He loved me once.”

“He still does,” Jey said softly. “That’s why this hurts him so much.”

A silence settled between them—heavy, aching, full of everything they couldn’t change.

Rhea curled against his side, and Jey wrapped an arm around her, holding her as if the world might tear her away at any moment.

“Whatever happens next,” he murmured, “we face it together.”

Rhea nodded. “Together.”

A faint sound drifted through the trees—too soft to be certain, too close to ignore.

Rhea stiffened. “Jey… someone’s coming.”

He rose slowly, pulling her up with him, eyes scanning the shadows.

The branches parted.

Roman stepped into the clearing.

His sword was drawn, but his arms hung low, the blade pointed toward the ground. He looked older than he had the night before—tired, hollowed, carrying a weight no crown could hide.

Rhea rose slowly. “Roman…”

Jey moved in front of her without thinking.

Roman’s eyes flicked to him, then back to her. “I needed to see you,” he said quietly. “Both of you.”

No one spoke.

The forest held its breath.

Roman looked at their joined hands, at the fear in their eyes, at the way they leaned toward each other even now. Something in him softened—broke—he wasn’t sure which.

“You love him,” he said.

Rhea’s breath trembled. “Yes.”

“And you,” Roman said to Jey, “would give your life for her.”

Jey didn’t look away. “Without hesitation.”

Roman closed his eyes.

When he opened them, the decision was already made.

“Go,” he said. “Both of you. Before the elders send others who will not hesitate.”

Rhea’s hand flew to her mouth. Jey stared in disbelief.

Roman stepped aside, clearing a path through the trees.

“I release you from the crown,” he said softly. “And from me.”

Rhea’s eyes filled. “Roman… thank you.”

He didn’t answer.

He only watched as they disappeared into the forest, hand in hand, swallowed by the morning light.

Hours later, Roman’s knights reached the clearing.

They found the king’s sword lying in the grass. They found his cloak draped over a fallen branch. They found signs of someone having stood there for a long time.

But Roman himself was gone.

No struggle. No tracks. No sign of where he went.

The knights whispered among themselves—some insisting Jey must have confronted him, others swearing the king had simply walked deeper into the forest alone.

But the truth was lost to the trees.

And the forest kept its silence.

In the years that followed, the kingdom changed.

Some said the queen had vanished into legend with the knight who loved her. Some said the king had wandered into the wilderness to seek peace the crown could never give him. Others whispered that the forest had taken him, as it takes all who carry too much sorrow.

But no one knew for certain.

What endured were the stories—of a love that defied a kingdom, of a king torn between duty and his heart, of a choice that reshaped the realm.

And sometimes, on quiet nights, travelers swore they saw two figures walking hand in hand along the distant hills, free beneath the open sky.

Whether it was truth or legend, no one could say.

But the tale lived on.

And that was enough.

The End

TAGLIST 😊

@trippinsorrows @acute-crashout-jeyuso @empressdede @punksyeet @uceyliyahh @femdisa @mytribalnightmare @eringobragh420 @southerngirl41 @officialeve24 @usoinked @bossbitch-22 @madhatterbri @purplementalitybluebird @bloodlinemadness @holycollectivekitty @jstarr86 @livslunaticdamiansdisciple18 @duhitzkay380 @bloodlinesbabe93 @theusotwinzcom @thebigredmonster @chynagirl13 @mamis-girly @transparentphantomface @amazinggirlsstuff @spiicii @mselenalovebug @sharmelasworld @moxley99 @crazylady20 @myleelovesfood @jeysbitch @skyesthebomb @fafomama @keenagurl @chocobuttabaybee @terrortwinunicorn @mamis-girly2 @lovelyjay45 @wwestrang-fan @bossbitch-25 @xnightmarexpunkx @ctinadiva @nash2023 @ztrek808 phoebe0391 @bigbackbri @armanihouse @bibonacita23 @scorpiodivazchamp @pruningthebreeze @dwill484

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Pieces Of Her - Chapter 1

Summary: Jon makes a fatal mistake, will he be able to fix it and regain the trust of his fiancée before it's too late?

Pairings: Jimmy Uso (Jon) x Kenya Berks (OC!), Jimmy Uso (Jon) x Naomi (Trinity)

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

“Fuck baby,” Jon moaned out, as he gripped Kenya’s hips. Kenya threw her head back in pleasure as she started bouncing on his dick. “Shit,” he dragged out.  “Just like that.” Jon's fingers dug into the curve of Kenya’s waist, pulling her closer to him with every bounce. She leaned forward, kissing him deeply, their tongues entwining in a heated exchange. 

“You boutta cum for me, Daddy?” Kenya whispered against his lips, and Jon nodded, his hips bucking up to meet her every thrust. Kenya leaned down so that their chests were pressed against each other. The sound of her ass slapping against his thighs triggered his orgasm. 

“Shit! I’m boutta nut!” Hearing him say that made her start to bounce on his dick harder and faster. 

“Go ‘head Daddy, nut in your pussy.” 

“Fuck!” He moaned out, closing his eyes in ecstasy  as her walls tightened around him 

“Trin..” He moaned out, and both he and Kenya froze. 

‘Bitch, did you just…” She trailed off, moving off of him and rushing into the bathroom to clean herself up. Jon winced when she slammed the bathroom door shut. 

“Baby! I’m sorry man, I-I” He stuttered trying to come up with a good excuse as to why he said his ex-girlfriend's name as he came inside of his current fiancée. He groaned and got off the bed, pulling his briefs back on, and walked over to the bathroom door, frowning when he found it locked. 

“Kenya, I’m sorry. Open the door, please.” He jumped as the bathroom door opened and Kenya walked out, now dressed in her pink Louis Vuitton robe. 

“Move out my way.” She said, glaring at him. Jon watched with wide eyes as she walked into their closet and came back out with her duffel bag and dressed in a grey hoodie and black leggings. 

“No baby, wait lemme -“ Jon wrapped one of his hands around her forearm trying to stop her but Kenya snatched her arm out of his grasp. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” She said, looking at him in disgust. “I knew something was up when y’all followed each other back on Instagram. You got me fucked up, Fatu.” She said, throwing clothes and some essentials into her duffel bag. 

“No, just let me explain.” Jon tried to grab her arm again but the glare she sent his way stopped him. 

“ I knew this was too good to be true.” Kenya started, motioning her hand between the two of them. “I heard the way your mom and brothers talked about our relationship. How shocked they were when you told them you proposed. Your mom couldn’t even pretend to be happy, Jonathan.” 

Jon felt his heart sink as Kenya's words hit him. He knew she was right. His family had been skeptical of their relationship from the start, always comparing Kenya to Trinity.

Since his mom had met Kenya, she would always try to compare the two. And she would point out all of Kenya's flaws. 

 “Trinity always made sure his clothes were clean before he went on the road.” 

“Trinity always had a warm meal ready for Jon.” 

“Trinity was used to life on the road… How are you going to cope with him being gone most of the time?” 

“I was never gonna be good enough, no matter how hard I tried. We were never going to last,”  Jon watched helplessly as Kenya finished packing up what she could. She zipped the bag up and placed it on her shoulder. “I’ll try to come back for the rest of my stuff.” 

“Kenya.. Please.” He whispered, his voice cracking as he watched her with teary eyes. “I’m sorry, just- please don't go."

Kenya scoffed quietly as she made it to their his bedroom door. “Do you know what hurts the most? I always knew that you weren’t over her, like in the back of my mind I knew, but when she left the company, I just… I dunno, I was hoping you would get over her, but I guess that was silly of me to assume.” 

“Baby.. I-I am over her.”

Kenya huffed as she noticed his slight hesitation. She let out a sad sigh as she looked around the room she had decorated for their anniversary. Kenya's eyes lingered on the photos she had taped to the strings; their smiling faces mocked her now, a painful reminder of what she thought they had. She blinked back tears and turned her gaze back to him. 

“You’re not, and I can’t keep pretending that you are.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her tears now falling freely down her cheeks. “I deserve better than to be someone’s second choice.” 

She opened the door and walked out of the room. She heard Jon’s footsteps close behind her. “I love you!” He called out after her. “I don’t know why I said her name! I haven’t talked to her in months! I swear, baby, it didn’t mean anything!” 

Kenya stopped walking and whirled around to face Jon. “How could you say that? What if I moaned out my ex’s name while you were inside me, huh? Would you just be okay with it?” 

Jon fell silent, unable to answer. He knew he'd be devastated if the roles were reversed. Kenya shook her head, disappointed but not surprised by his lack of response.

“Exactly.” She said as she shook her head and opened the front door, walking out and towards her car. She unlocked the doors with the fob and threw her bag into the backseat. She hurriedly hopped into the driver's seat as she noticed Jon rushing towards her, still only dressed in his briefs. 

“Kenya, Please. I’m fucking begging. Just come back inside so we can talk.” Jon said, pulling on the door handle, but she had locked it. Kenya stared straight ahead, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as Jon pleaded outside her window. She couldn't bear to look at him, knowing if she did, her resolve might crumble. With a deep breath, she started the engine. “No! Kenya!” Jon called out, hitting his hand against the window as she pulled off from in front of their home. 

Kenya had wound up driving to her studio and sleeping on the couch there. She woke up the next morning to about 50 missed phone calls from Jon and about 20 from his twin brother Josh. 

Josh Fatu: Sis, can u jus let me know you safe. Bro in here spazzing out cause u turned ur location off. 

Kenya rolled her eyes and tossed her phone back down. 

Just as she sat up and stretched, her phone started ringing. Kenya sighed as Jon’s contact stared back at her. She waited for it to stop ringing before unlocking her phone and blocking his number. She let out a deep sigh as she pushed herself off the couch, walked into the kitchen area, and started a pot of coffee. 

She was in deep thought as she leaned against the counter, absentmindedly stroking the engagement ring she was still wearing. Kenya's fingers lingered on the diamond ring, memories flooding her mind. The day Jon proposed, the way his eyes lit up when she said yes, and the plans they'd made for their future together. It all felt like a distant dream now. 

theekenyab

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theekenyab : Life Lately... 🥀

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user: noticed she stopped wearing that ring 🤐

jonathanfatu: congrats on ur grammy nomination... proud of u 💞

It's been about a month since she last talked to Jon. Even though she had blocked him from her phone, he had shown up to the studio multiple times to try to get her to talk to him. But how could she? He had betrayed her in the worst way. 

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the recording booth, notebook in her lap, while soft piano chords played through the speakers. The song she’d been trying to write for the past two hours still only had four lines, and every lyric somehow circled back to him. Her pen froze against the paper as she heard the studio door swing open.

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous now.” Milan’s voice echoed through the room.

Kenya groaned softly as her best friend walked farther into the room, turning on the lights. “Mia, please,” Kenya said softly, her eyes still focused on the notebook on her lap. 

“No, I understand you’re hurt, but come on, Yaya. You gotta get out this funk.” 

Kenya sighed and looked up at her friend. “He was here this morning,”  she shrugged, “ I didn’t talk to him, but he left a note with security.” 

That got Milan to pause. “A note?” 

Kenya nodded. “I didn’t read it. Just told them to toss it. I just… I can’t.” Kenya reached up and wiped the tears that were now flowing down her cheeks. “Nobody understands what I've been through with that man. Having to deal with all the negative comments from his family just for him to go and prove them right.” 

Milan sank to her knees so she was eye level with Kenya. “None of this is on you. It’s all on him. He’s the one who fucked up, he’s the one who never checked his weird ass family.” 

Kenya smiled at her friend, grateful to have someone like her in her life. She let Milan wrap her in a hug. “Did you get it?” Kenya mumbled into her friend's hoodie. 

Milan nodded and pulled away. She grabbed her bag, pulled out a white store bag, and handed it to Kenya. “You sure you ready?” 

Kenya nodded, staring down at the plastic bag in her hands. “I gotta know Mia.” 

Milan nodded and watched as her friend stood and walked into the bathroom. 

Inside the bathroom, Kenya stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes dropped down to the test on the counter and before she could second guess herself, she picked it up. She read the instructions hastily before walking over to the toilet. 

After she was done she walked back over to the sink, washed her hands and waited for the results. She set her timer for five minutes as she paced and forth in the bathroom, her heart hammering in her chest.  Her phone ringing broke her out of her thoughts, she pulled her phone out and hit stop. She took a deep breath before walking over to the counter to look at the results, her stomach dropping as those two pink lines stared back up at her.

Milan looked up as Kenya walked out of the bathroom pregnancy test in her hand and tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“I’m pregnant.” Kenya whispered, bottom lip wobbling as she collapsed on the couch. 

‘What are you going to?” Milan asked. 

Kenya shrugged, knowing her decision would change everything she thought she had been moving toward. She looked down at the test in her hand. “I don’t know.”

Author's Note: Hey guys! Finally bringing this one back. I have been working on it, and I'm finally ready to post!

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