Owner: Suki | she/her | twenty-two | blk…
Home to the wild, the unpredictable, and the untamed Sukii doesn’t just collect chaos, she commands it. Every beast under her watch may be erratic, but make no mistake… she knows exactly how to bring them to heel.
The wild ones:
The Lion (Roman Reigns)
The After Party: in progress
The Jaguar (Jey Uso)
Valerie: Read more here!
Dont worry 'bout it: Read more here!
The Leopard (Jimmy Uso)
TBD
Disclaimer:
This is a fanfiction page created for entertainment purposes only.
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All characters are fictionalized versions and do not reflect real-life personalities, actions, or beliefs.
Any similarities to real events are purely coincidental or loosely inspired.
Content may include mature themes, strong language, and intense situations... reader discretion is advised.
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all he needed was his valerie
wc: 1.9k
tags: obsessed but too late, language, begging, small plot twist
it’s been years since you saw that man.
that damn mullet. that damn ego.
you almost laugh to yourself watching him pace around that ring like he still eighteen and untouchable. crowd screaming his name, lights flashing, announcer hyping him up like he's god's favorite.
and you just sitting there.
front row.
legs crossed neat at the knee. posture straight. nails glossed a deep red that catch the arena lights every time you move your hand. your outfit is simple but expensive looking. quiet money. grown woman energy. you ain’t here looking thirsty. you ain’t here looking hurt.
you look healed.
and that’s what would bother him the most.
you didn’t come to see him. at least that’s what you told yourself when you bought the ticket. you came for closure. for nostalgia. for proof that the boy who once had your whole heart doesn't get it no more.
but when his music hits and he steps out?
your stomach still flips.
you hate that.
he in the ring talking slick, soaking up attention like he always did. same confidence. same smirk. same way he does that thing with his tongue when the crowd chant his name.
and for a second you don’t see the grown man.
you see senior year.
him leaning against his car after school. “you ridin’ with me or what, mama?”
you rolling your eyes but getting in anyway. “you know i am. stop asking.”
you were always there. always riding. always defending. always ten toes. everybody knew it. and he knew it too.
that’s why it hurt the way it did when he switched up.
back in the present, he bounces off the ropes and your eyes trace him before you can stop yourself. he looks bigger now. more defined. tattoos darker. money on him. fame on him.
but that ego? still loud. you sit back in your seat, crossing your legs the other way, adjusting your blazer. calm. collected.
because you learned something after you left. he never wanted you the way you wanted him. not back then.
you was too loyal. too available. too willing. you was his valerie.
the one who loved him harder than he loved himself. the one he knew would stay. so he didn’t choose you. he used you.
and when he told the whole school “we just friends,” like that night in his room, buried deep inside of you ain’t mean nothing, that’s when you realized something. you could give a boy your body.
your time.
your loyalty.
your heart.
and he’ll still act like you asked for too much.
in the ring, he laughs at something his brother says. then his eyes drift. scanning. casual.
until they land on you. and everything about him changes. his smile falters. just slightly. but you catch it. you don’t smile. you just hold his gaze. Steady. and in that moment, you see it. he remember.
he remember the way you used to look at him like he was already somebody. before the belts. before the money. before the cameras.
he remembers how you loved him when he ain’t even loved you back right.
and for the first time in years, you see that ego crack. just a little...
deep down, you were special to him. he just ain’t know how to hold something special without ruining it, and you damn sure ain’t know it back then.
in the ring, his eyes stay stuck on you a second too long. that’s all it takes. one second. gunther don’t miss nothing. he slid in behind him, arm locking around jey’s neck, dragging him down into a tight headlock. the crowd gets loud but it sounds far away to jey, like everything underwater, because he is still looking at you. like he trying to read your face. trying to see if you care. trying to see if you flinch.
“tap!” the ref yelled.
jey barely fight it. barely even try to shift his weight.
senior year. you standing in his room, sunlight cutting through the blinds while you pull your hoodie back on from the night before. “so what are we?” you asked soft, not demanding, just hopeful. he ain’t even look at you when he answered. “don’t start that.”
back to the ring. gunther crank his arm tighter. “tap!” the ref shouted again. and jey taps. just like that. the bell rings. crowd booing. commentary going crazy. but jey don’t even react. he sits there on the mat, breathing heavily, eyes scanning until they land on you again.
and you standing up. slow. clutching your purse. smoothing your blazer like this was just another night out. you don’t clap. you don’t smirk. you don’t shake your head. you just turn and walk away.
that’s when it hit him. harder than the loss. harder than the choke. you really leaving again.
his chest started rising faster. the ref tried to help him up but he brushed him off. “uce, you good?” jimmy shout from the apron. jey don’t answer. he watching you disappear up the aisle, and for the first time since high school, panic crawl up his spine.
he hopped up quick, ignoring the official trying to talk to him. “uce, where you going?” jimmy called out. but he already sliding out the ring, already pulling at the tape on his wrists, already moving.
because he ain’t losing you twice.
he catches you before you open your car door, running after you shirtless, messy mullet bouncing, grillz glinting in the moonlight.
“fuck, wait. you deadass finna leave again?” he speaks as he reaches you, breath heavy, chest still shining with sweat.
you don’t turn around at first. your fingers stay wrapped around the handle. steady.
but when you do, those big brown puppy eyes of coffee are filled with fear. real fear. something he ain’t felt in a long time.
“i ain’t come here for you, jey,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest like armor.
he runs a hand through his messy hair, frustration all over him, muscles flexing under his tribal tattoos as he paces once in front of you. “aint know all i needed was love, now that shit hard to get. i thought money was love so i ain’t had a problem wit’ it bein’ spent,” he breathed, voice cracking at the edges.
your arms slowly fall to your sides. you let out a long exhale. “jey…”
he cut you off quick, stepping closer. “nah, let me talk. you came in my life and showed me what the fuck love could be. i fucked that up.”
his voice got lower. rougher. “i ain’t never had nobody ride for me like you did. you was there before the lights, before the chains, before all this shit. you loved me when i ain’t have nothing but dreams and attitude.”
you look away, blinking slowly. “and what you do with that?”
he laugh bitterly. “i treated it like it was regular. like you was always gon’ be there.”
“because i was,” you whisper. “until i wasn’t.”
he step closer, close enough you can see the gold in his teeth when he speaks. “lettin’ you go was the best thing i coulda done for you… but the worst thing i coulda done for us.”
“you ain’t let me walk,” you shake your head. “you pushed me.”
that hit.
he swallows hard, chest rising fast. “that silence between us screams at volumes that only we knew the frequencies of, mama. every time we ain’t talk. every birthday i ain’t text. every time i saw your name and ain’t press send. that shit was loud.”
you look at him again, and he looks smaller somehow. even standing there shirtless, built, sweaty, powerful. he looked like that same boy in his senior year who didn’t know how to say i love you.
“i think about you every damn day,” he admit. “every city. every time i walk out that curtain. i look at the crowd hoping i see you. tonight i did and i ain’t even care about the match no more.”
you shake your head softly. “because you take and you take, jey. but you tasted like the beach in a kiss. sweet and salty and impossible to forget. i kept coming back even when it hurt.”
his jaw tightened.
“candy for my eyes and my veins and you run citrus,” you continue, voice trembling now. “you was addictive. and i was the only one paying the price.”
“i know,” he whispered.
he nod slowly, eyes glossy. “it was always you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “couldn’t find nobody else like you, mama. tried to replace you. tried to distract myself. ain’t none of them feel like home.”
your heart pounds in your chest.
“I can't do this forever,” you tell him, voice breaking. “my heart is fragile and i have nothing left to give.”
he steps closer, hands hovering at your waist but not touching. scared you’ll disappear if he does.
“then let me give this time,” he pleaded. “lemme fix it. lemme earn it. don’t shut the door on me again. don’t make me watch you leave twice.”
he standing there like the night done stripped him of everything but regret. shirtless, chest still shining under the parking lot lights, sweat drying slow against his skin. messy mullet falling in his face. grillz catching the moon every time his jaw clench. he looks strong everywhere else in the world. right now he just looks exposed.
“you really gon’ leave me like this?” his voice low now. not loud. not cocky. just tired.
you hold his stare, heart beating hard but your face steady. “i already did once. difference is, this time i ain’t crying about it.”
that hurt him. you see it. see the way his throat moves when he swallows.
“i ain’t never stop loving you,” he admits, voice cracking open. “i just ain’t know how to love you right.”
“and i ain’t never stop loving you either,” you say, honest but firm. “i just stopped loving you more than me.”
that silence creeped in again. thick. familiar. the kind that used to mean everything and nothing at the same time.
he takes one small step closer like he fighting the urge to grab you. “i thought i had time. thought you was always gon’ be there.”
“i was,” you reply softly. “until i wasn’t.”
his chest rose heavy. eyes glossy but he doesn't wipe them. “so that’s it? all them years just… done?”
you nod once. “i turned that pain into purpose. you turned it into memories.”
he look confused. lost.
“wait,” he says, stepping forward one last time. “fuck i’m supposed to do now?”
you pause. look over your shoulder.
calm. untouchable. glowing in a way that ain’t got nothing to do with him.
“read,” you say.
he frowned. “read what?”
you open your door, sliding into the driver seat before answering.
“my new book.”
he stares at you, confused. “what book?”
you look up at him through the open window.
“it’s called valerie.”
you don’t wait for his reaction. you close the door. engine starts smooth. headlights cut across his bare chest. for a second he just stood there, frozen, grillz dull now, ego gone.
you pull off slowly at first, then merge into the night, taillights glowing red before fading into traffic.
he still standing there when the arena doors burst open. fans rush out screaming his name. phones in the air. interviewers jogging toward him with microphones ready. security scrambling.
“jey! what happened out there?”
“jey, was that a distraction?”
but he doesn't hear any of it.
he was just staring down the road you disappeared on.
and for the first time in years, the crowd sounded small because all he ever needed was his valerie.
you should've came to him
wc: 1.4k
tags: MINORS DNI, dirty talk, cursing, power imbalance, thigh shaking, kneeling, bodily fluids, slight fluff
a/n: this is my first time writing for wwe, but you all can find my main account for JJK HERE!! I hope this fic reaches the right audience lolz. ❤
gif: @samijey
the arena still buzzing even though his match been over for a minute. you're pacing inside your office like you tryna walk the irritation out your body. heels clicking against the floor, arms folded tight across your chest, jaw set. your eyes glossy but you refusing to let anything fall. you not about to cry over no grown woman running her mouth backstage like high school never ended.
and like the universe testing you, you hear her voice outside your door.
“that girl always got something to say about how i act during interviews. she not even doing her fucking job right.”
your whole body goes still.
she's talking to adam. loud too. bold. like she want you to hear it.
your teeth clench. you don’t move though. you not giving nobody the satisfaction of storming out your own office.
then another voice cuts through.
low. calm. controlled.
“yo.”
everything quiets down almost immediately.
you know that voice anywhere.
“i got it,” jey says.
adam tries to respond but jey cuts him off, still not loud. “i said i got it.”
your heart starts beating a little too fast. footsteps head down the hall and stop right outside your door. you barely have time to fix your face before it opens.
he steps in. shuts it behind him. then you hear the lock click.
your stomach flips and you hate that it does.
you don’t turn around right away. you can feel him in the room. still warm from the match, chest rising slow, chain resting against his skin, freshly cut mullet still damped. he don’t speak for a second. just watching you pace like he studying you.
then softer, closer, “what’s goin on, mama?”
you roll your eyes but they a little too shiny for the attitude to land how you want. “i’m fine.”
he don’t move. “you don’t look fine.”
“i said i’m fine, jey.” your tone sharper now. a little sassy. just enough.
he steps closer. “don’t do that.”
“do what?”
“act like ion see you.”
that makes you stop pacing. you slowly turn to face him and for a second the air feel heavy. weeks of this tension just sitting between y’all. weeks of brushing hands in the hallway like it’s accidental. fingers touching for half a second too long. that first time you reached for his hand and he froze, squeezed it gently, then let go like it scared him how natural it felt.
now he's right in front of you. close.
“why you ain’t come to me?” he asks quietly.
you swallow, pride flaring up even though your chest tight. “and say what, hmm? that i can’t handle my job? that i gotta run to somebody every time somebody talk crazy? what you want me to say, jey?”
your voice cracks a little at the end and you hate that it does.
he doesn’t argue. doesn’t raise his voice. he just steps in closer and takes your hand. like always, he stills when your fingers touch. like he gotta process it. then he squeezes. slow. grounding. this time he doesn’t let go.
“you ain't gotta run to nobody,” he says low. “but you don’t gotta stress by yourself either.”
your eyes drop to y’all hands. his thumb rubbing slow over your knuckles. gentle but firm. protective.
“i see how you been this week,” he continues. “how you walk different when she around. how you get quiet. how you try to act unbothered.”
you look up at him, surprised. “how you even know that?”
he gives you that look like you just asked something dumb. “i see everything when it come to you.”
that does something to you.
your free hand presses against his chest without you even thinking. solid. steady. his hand slides from your waist to your lower back, pulling you just a little closer. not aggressive. just claiming space.
“you stressed,” he murmurs.
“i’m not,” you whisper back but it ain’t convincing.
his fingers slide under your chin, lifting your face so you gotta look at him. “yeah you are. and ion like that shit.”
your breath gets shaky. “why you care so much?”
his jaw tightens slightly. then he leans his forehead against yours and his voice drops softer.
“cause you mine.”
not loud. not possessive in a scary way. just calm. like it’s a fact.
your heart damn near skips.
“jey…” you barely breathe his name.
“you should’ve came to me,” he says again.
“i didn’t wanna mix business and feelings,” you admit quietly.
he doesn’t let you finish that thought. he kisses you. his pink hued lips pressing against yours just to shut you up.
slow at first. testing. like he giving you time to pull away if you want to.
you don’t.
your fingers curl into his shirt instead. the kiss deepens, weeks of tension finally breaking loose. his hands move down your back slow, like he memorizing you. like he been waiting to feel every curve of your body.
when he pulls back, his lips brush along your jaw, down to your neck. you could feel his grillz graze your neck. you shiver.
“relax, mama” he murmurs against your skin. “i got you.”
your back hits the edge of your desk and his hands steady you instantly. one hand slides down your thigh, squeezing gently, reminding you he's right there. your frustration melts into something warmer. heavier. needier.
you pull him back up by his shirt and kiss him harder this time, pushing past his lips and becoming needier for his tongue. he exhales low against your mouth, hands tightening on your hips.
outside that door the drama still exists. that girl still running her mouth. still messy.
but in here it’s just him.
when he presses his forehead against yours again, breathing heavier now, eyes darker, he whispers it one more time.
“don’t worry bout it.”
and the way he says it?
its a fucking promise.
his hands hike up your skirt slowly, not rushed, not messy. like he been feining for that pussy for weeks. the fabric gathers in his fists and your breath catches in your throat.
he looks up at you while he does it.
that’s what makes it worse.
that damn look.
heavy. focused. hungry. fucking animalistic
fuck…
“jey…” you whisper, fingers tangling in his damp hair.
he hums softly, eyes never leaving yours. then he kneels.
slow.
that chain around his neck swing while he lower himself in front of you, hands still gripping your thighs. his palms warm against your soft skin, thumbs pressing gently like he grounding you.
“you still stressed?” he murmurs, voice low.
you swallow. “you playing.”
“nah,” he says, spreading your knees just enough so he can settle between them. “i’m serious.”
his fingers drag lightly up your thighs, slow enough to make your stomach tighten.
“been watching you all week,” he continues. “biting yo tongue. acting like it don’t bother you.”
you look down at him, breath uneven. “it don’t.”
he smirks slightly. “you a bad liar.”
his hands slide higher, bunching up your panties before dragging them down slowly. and when it reaches your knees, he grabs the fabric with his grillz, gliding them down your calves like a fucking lion.
he takes his time kissing up your thighs. licking them until he finds that soaked spot. and once he licks your pussy with ease, your hands grip the edge of the desk, a little whimper spilling from your swollen lips.
that only makes him more fucking hungry. he start thrusting his tongue into you, making little wet sounds thats only meant for y'all to hear, like he savoring every second. like he’s been imagining this and now that it’s real, he refuses to fuck it up.
he looks up at you from where he devours your gummy pussy and the eye contact alone nearly folds you.
“been thinking about this,” he admits between licks.
“yeah?” you moan.
“every time we passed each other. every time you touched my hand like you ain’t mean to.”
your fingers slide into his hair, gripping and tugging. “f-fuck, jey, I-”
a slow grin pulls at his mouth, grillz grazing your clit. “i know.”
he sucks on your clit, your thighs shake, your head tips back, breath quickening.
“don’t let nobody try with you like that again,” he says against your clit.
you swallow. “you gonna handle it, papa?”
he hums low, sucking your clit harder one more time before you start to shake, hands gliding up your legs as he kisses your pussy through your orgasm. fitting his hair like its the only thing keeping you from falling.
"oh fuckkk, jey... j-jeyy!,"
“i told you,” he murmurs, gripping your waist and pulling you closer for more “don’t worry bout it.”
