Ambam

It starts like every fight does: with something small.

A text left on read leads to a shift in tone. Or an errand she didn’t run, or one he didn’t ask for nicely enough. The fuse was already lit, but neither of them could ever leave it at a low simmer.

“Why you always gotta say shit like that, Michael?” she snaps, pacing the living room with her phone in one hand, speaker on, while her friends sat on FaceTime on her laptop. “You don’t ask – you tell. Like I’m supposed to jump when you tell me to.”

Michael’s sigh is heavy on the other end. Too calm. Too deliberate. “Because every time I ask you to do something, you catch an attitude like you just did.”

“Because I don’t like being bossed around!” she fires back instantly, heat rising in her voice. “I’m grown. I don’t need to be managed.”

“I’m not trying to manage you. I’m trying to help you not burn yourself out–”

“Then stop acting like I don’t know how to handle my own shit!” she cuts in again, voice sharp and unwavering.

He goes quiet. Not defeated… Calculating. She knows that silence by now. It’s not retreat, it’s containment.

But her blood’s already boiling. That headstrong fire in her chest keeps pushing. “You don’t get to tell me how to do me, Michael. I don’t care how many times you think you’ve been around the block–”

He cuts her off this time. Firm. “Will you shut up for one goddamn second?”

The air shifts. Her mouth opens, then closes. No one’s ever told her to shut up like that. Not like that. It’s not cruel, not abusive. But it is authoritative. Stern and low, laced with a patience so razor-thin it could slice clean through her next sentence.

Her throat tightens. It’s instinctual, the way her pulse thuds. The silence on her end stretches for a moment too long.

“Are you done?” he asks, quieter now. More like a warning, than an actual question to be answered.

Something about his tone makes her feel cornered, like a match pressed too close to oil. So instead of backing down, she doubles down.

“Y’know what?” Her voice is cold now. “Bye.”

And just like that, she hangs up.

That’s the part she should’ve thought twice about. Because if there’s one thing Michael doesn’t do, it’s being hung up on. Not by producers, not by directors, and definitely not by her.

But in the moment, it feels like a win. She tosses her phone on the counter and exhales, shaking out her hands. Her friends are mid-FaceTime, witnessing the entire blow-up from their side of the screens – jaws agape and eyes wide.

“Whewwww.” Tati whistles, “You really hung up on him?”

“Sure did,” she says, her chin lifted. She squares her shoulders like she’s proud. Like she didn’t just pour gasoline on a lit bonfire.

Nas cackles. “You know that man is probably already on his way.”

“He can try.” Her lips twitch upward. To no one’s surprise, defiance is a badge she wears proudly. “Ain’t nobody scared of his ass.”

But less than ten minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. A deliberate, slow, three-count knock that sounds like it was carved out of brick.

Kris’s eyes widen on the computer screen. “Oh. My. God.”

“You better go answer that before he kicks the door in,” Tati whispers with glee, gleaming with secondhand chaos.

She squares her shoulders and stalks to the door, heart pounding, jaw tight, her phone in hand. She doesn’t even pretend to be surprised when she opens it and finds him standing there: grey sweats, black tee, jaw sharp enough to cut a diamond.

Michael doesn’t say a word. Not at first. He just glances at the phone in her hand… then at her… then steps inside like it’s his apartment. (And the way he moves, it is.)

“Hang up on them,” he says, voice steady. 

She doesn’t move.

“You heard me.” He closes the door behind him and locks it, chocolate eyes fixed his eyes on hers. “Hang up on them like you did me.”

She hesitates, lips parted like she wants to say something clever—but nothing comes.

Tati’s voice chirps faintly from the laptop on the table. “Girl…”

Michael leans in, slow, invading her space like smoke slipping under a door. “I don’t like repeating myself.”

That does it. Hurriedly, she pads over to the coffee table… and she ends the call.

He takes her phone from her gently, places it face-down on the entry table, and doesn’t look away once. Not when she shifts. Not when she swallows. Not even when she tries to stand taller, like that’ll save her.

“You got your little audience hyped. You got your last word. You done?”

“Are you?” She squeaks.

His brow ticks. “You keep pushing like you want me to remind you what happens when you act like this.”

“What, you gonna yell at me?”

He steps even closer, his voice dropping to something low and coiled. “No. I don’t yell. I don’t need to.”

She tries to keep her expression even, but her breath stutters. Because she knows exactly what he means.

He doesn’t need to raise his voice to break her down. He can do that with a look, a touch, a command whispered at the just right frequency. And the worst part is that she likes it. Loves it, actually: The challenge of pushing because she knows he’ll push back.

And still… this time feels different. He’s not playing.

“You wanna act grown, talk reckless, hang up on me? Cool. Be that girl.” His gaze narrows. “But don’t forget who you do that with.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, but he’s already closing the space between them. Backing her up until her spine hits the wall by the door. His palm braces the wall beside her head, and suddenly she feels very small.

Not in a bad way. In the way that makes her toes curl, that reminds her that for all her fire, he’s the flame that started it.

His voice is barely audible now. “You like to mouth off. You like to see how far you can take it. But now I’m here. So go ahead, baby…”

A pause.

“Talk your shit.”

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out besides a shaky breath, caught between pride and surrender.

And he smirks. A dark, knowing kind of smile. “Hm.”

She swears her heart skips a beat when he leans in just a little closer, breath brushing her cheek like a whisper lined with warning.

“You had a lot to say earlier.” His hand doesn’t touch her yet, but it’s so close it feels like it does – his palm against the wall by her head, his body radiating heat like a second skin. His tone is slow. Deliberate. Mocking. “Where’s that mouth now?”

She lifts her chin in a futile attempt at pride and tries not to blink too fast. Still bold, still standing tall, but the tension is in her shoulders now, coiled and tight.

She wants to answer. She wants to clap back and grab that smug smirk off his face and remind him she’s not scared of him.

But her tongue won’t move the way she wants it to and her pulse betrays her.

Michael watches all of it with sharp, steady eyes. His lips twitch once at the corner, smug and low. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs. Then he drops his hand and steps back, only slightly, just enough to make her feel like she can breathe again.

But the air is heavier now.

“Go ahead, run that mouth again,” he says as he steps back, “Go ahead. Tell me how independent you are. How grown you are. How you don’t need me telling you what to do.”

She doesn’t respond. Or rather, can’t. Not because she’s afraid, but because he knows exactly how to hit the spot between irritation and need. 

Between rebellion and submission.

“You don’t like being told what to do?” he asks softly, voice like black silk. “That’s too bad, baby. ‘Cause I’m not asking.”

He stops in front of her again, lifting her chin between his fingers. Not rough, but not soft either. She meets his eyes and feels her knees threaten to give.

“You think I pulled up just to argue?” he mutters. “You wanna hang up on me like I’m some random nigga? Run that mouth around in front of your friends and think I’m not gone handle it?”

She swallows hard.

“You think you grown?” he asks again, lips brushing her jaw as he leans in close. “Then act like it. Apologize.”

She blinks at him.

For a split second, she thinks about pushing back or cracking a joke. But he’s looking at her like he’ll put her through the wall if she tests him again … and not in a way she wouldn’t love.

“I’m sorry,” she says finally, voice quiet.

He hums condescendingly, cupping a hand behind his ear. “Huh? I didn’t quite hear that.”

“I’m sorry.” Stronger this time but still tight-chested.

Michael’s eyes narrow, but he nods once. “Better.” Then he leans in again, closer this time, his  lips at her ear.

“But that mouth still got too much confidence,” he whispers. “So here’s what we’re gonna do.”

He reaches down, takes her hand, and laces their fingers.

“You’re gonna go to the bedroom. You’re gonna keep that same energy. And I’m gonna remind you why you don’t ever do me like that.”

She gasps – quiet and involuntary – but it’s already too late. He’s leading her down the hall, not looking back.

“You wanna be a brat?” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll give you something to cry about.”

She stumbles slightly, heart in her throat, thighs already pressing together.

The bedroom door shuts behind them with a soft click, but it may as well be a jail cell clanging shut.

Michael drops her hand the moment they cross the threshold. He doesn’t say a word – just walks toward the edge of the bed and sits down, legs spread, gaze sharp. “Take off your shorts.”

She pauses. Just for a second.

“Now.”

It slices through the air. The kind of command that doesn’t need repeating. Her fingers go straight to the waistband.

She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t argue. Just slides them down, revealing the soft cling of cotton panties underneath, the faint tremble in her thighs, and the defiance still flickering – nay, dying – in her eyes.

But he sees the way her chest is rising faster. Sees the goosebumps crawling up her skin even though the room’s warm.

“Come here.”

She steps forward slowly, like she’s daring him to do something.

He does.

The second she’s within reach, he grabs her wrist and yanks her over his lap. She lets out a gasp, balance thrown, hands hitting the mattress to brace herself.

“You wanna act like a brat?” he growls low, one strong arm locking across her back. “Then I’ll treat you like one.”

CRACK.

The first spank lands sharp and sudden, and she jumps. Half from pain, half from the shock of it. But doesn’t give her a second to process.

CRACK.

CRACK.

CRACK.

Each one lands harder than the last. She writhes against him in his lap, biting her lip, fists clenched tight in the comforter.

“Mouth runnin’ like a faucet all night,” he mutters to no one in particular. “But now you got nothing to say?”

She gasps, trying to twist. “Michael—”

SMACK. His hand slides up her back, to the nape of her neck, pushing down just enough to pin her head down to the mattress. “What happened to all that attitude, baby?” he taunts. “What happened to all that grown shit? Huh?”

Her voice breaks. “I–fuck, I’m–”

He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“You’re what?” he whispers. “You sorry? Or you just sorry you’re in trouble?”

She whimpers. And he loves it.

He yanks her up, flips her effortlessly onto her back. She lands on the mattress with a bounce, wide-eyed, breathless, thighs pressed tight together.

He climbs on top of her, knee between her legs, fisting a hand in her hair.

“You hang up on me again,” he warns, face inches from hers, “and next time, I’ll spank you in front of your little friends. You understand me?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“…Yes, Daddy.”

He crushes his mouth to hers, a filthy, open-mouthed kiss that drags the air from her lungs. His tongue slides deep, claiming, devouring, then he pulls away with a growl.

“Strip.”

She scrambles, breathless, pulling her shirt off, her panties down until she’s completely bare and her skin’s still flushed from the spanking. Her upper thighs are slick, mouth parted in something between fear and desire.

Michael sheds his clothes with a terrifying calm, like a predator uncoiling as he stalks his prey. His cock is hard, thick, already leaking. When she reaches for him, he grabs both wrists and shoves them above her head.

“Don’t you even think about touching me.”

He keeps her wrists pinned with one hand while the other trails down her body. Across her throat, between her tits, down to where she’s soaked and trembling.

“Drippin’ like this, but swore you didn’t need me,” he growls. “Independent, huh?”

She’s panting, squirming, aching, trying to roll her hips toward him.

He slaps her pussy once – just once – and she chokes on a moan.

“That mouth got you in trouble,” he murmurs, settling between her thighs. “So I’m gonna fuck it outta you.”

And then he does: one thrust, fully to the hilt. No time for her to even think of taking a breath. One hand still holding her wrists, the other gripping her hip so tight she’ll feel the bruises tomorrow. He’s talking the whole time, each word filthier than the last.

“You’re mine. Say it.”

“I’m–fuck–I’m yours!”

“Louder.”

“I’m yours, Daddy!”

“That’s what I thought.”

He leans down, one hand wrapping around her throat, squeezing against her pulse point until she’s gasping for air. 

Her raspy moans turn into choked sobs. Her legs shake as her body thrashes beneath his, overwhelmed and unraveling.

“You wanna cum for me?” he pants, voice rough.

“Yes–please! Please, I–”

“You’re grown – earn it.”

He flips her again, face down, ass up. Doesn’t bother with any pleasantries as he buries himself back into her, pounding mercilessly with one hand tangled in her hair, the other spreading her cheeks.

“Yout better not ever hang up on me again,” he growls through clenched teeth. “And you better say thank you when I put you in your place.”

She’s babbling now, just a mess of whines, moans, broken pleas.

“Please–Daddy! Please, I can’t take it–”

“You can. You’re a big girl, right? You can do it..”

He reaches around, rubs her clit in tight, fast circles, and she screams when she cums again, her back arching, walls fluttering around him like a fucking vice.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t event slow down.

She cums again. Then again.

And by the time he spills inside her with a deep, guttural groan, she’s shaking, face buried in the sheets, crying from overstimulation, whispering “thank you” like a prayer.

—-

He doesn’t say a word at first. Just breathes heavy, catching his breath. Then he pulls out gently, and she gasps, more from the loss of contact than the pain.

He gathers her in his arms without a word and carries her to the bathroom. Sets her down in the tub while warm water washes over her legs. He grabs a cloth to wipe her face free and thighs, and pressing soft kisses to the bruises he left on her skin.

“You okay?” he murmurs against her temple, hand stroking up and down her back.

“Mhm.” She hums with a nod, still dazed. “I’m good.”

He chuckles softly. “And still hardheaded.”

She smiles weakly, nuzzling into his kiss. “Still yours though.”

—-

The next day, her thighs are still sore. Though kissed every bruise, massaged her legs in bed, cooked her breakfast like he didn’t fuck the attitude clean out of her the night before, he remembers. And he expects gratitude in silence.

So when he calls later that evening, his voice low, calm, and affectionate, and she’s got the audacity to hang up on him again?

He doesn’t call back. He doesn’t text.

He just gets in his truck and drives to her building. 

She hears the knock, knowing what (and who) it is before she even turns her head toward the door. Her stomach flips with the kind of anticipation that tastes like sin.

She opens the door, leaning against the frame. “Oh. We doing this again?” she says, arms folded.

Michael doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even blink. He just walks past her into the apartment, locks the door behind him, then turns. “Get on your knees.”

She raises her brows. “Michael–”

“Don’t speak.” He raises a hand to stop her interjection, stepping in close. “Not one word. You lost mouth privileges.”

Her lips part, almost reflexively, but his expression kills the thought where it stands. He’s not playing. 

She drops to her knees. And for the record, it’s not because he asks. It’s because she has to – because her body’s already aching for whatever punishment he’s been planning since she ended their call.

Michael walks behind her, then back to the front, slow like he’s circling prey. He tilts her chin up with two fingers, his voice terrifyingly gentle. “You hung up on me again.” He notes simply.

She doesn’t answer.

“After everything I gave you last night. After I made your little bratty ass cry into the sheets.” He brushes a thumb across her lips. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Her heart hammers in her chest.

“You wanna act like you don’t need me?” His zipper comes down slowly, tauntingly. “Fine.”

His cock is already hard. She reaches for it with open lips, but he grabs her wrist tight. “No hands. No talking. You just take it.”

He ushers his cock into her mouth with no preamble, filling her throat so deliciously she could cry – and she does. He doesn’t give her time to adjust; just buries himself to the hilt, one hand on the back of her head.

“There she go,” he mutters. “That mouth that wouldn’t shut up yesterday.”

He rocks his hips forward again, slow and punishing. Her throat stretches to take him, eyes fluttering with effort as she gags around him.

“You so loud when you’re on the phone.” His voice is low, like a dark wave crashing inside her skull. “But you can’t even breathe when I’m in your mouth.”

She whines around him as she tries to pull back for air.

Michael growls. “No. You asked for this.” He fists her hair tighter, holding her still as he fucks into her throat. Her eyes are glassy now, spit dripping down her chin. Her mascara is ruined, her knees are aching, but she just can’t get enough.

“Go ahead, baby. Cry on it.” He doesn’t stop or soften. “You wanted to act out. You wanted to hang up on me again.”

He pulls out just enough for her to gasp, then shoves back in again, deeper than before.

Her nails dig into her own thighs, holding herself still as her throat spasms around him. She’s choking, drooling, absolutely wrecked, and loving every second of it.

He finally pulls out, letting her collapse forward onto her hands, coughing.

“Up.”

She shudders.

“Up. On the couch. Now.”

She scrambles to obey, tears streaking her cheeks, chest heaving.

The second her knees hit the cushions, he’s behind her, yanking her leggings and panties down her thighs, spreading her wide. He spits once on her pussy then slams in with a growl that could test the strength of her couch.

“You don’t get to be smart and disobedient. Pick one.”

He fucks her silent, with each stroke heavier than the last. He’s grabbing at her neck, her hips, her wrists, pressing her face into the cushions as he makes her take it, over and over.

“I told you,” he snarls into her ear, hips snapping, “I don’t play when it comes to that phone. I don’t play when it comes to you.”

She sobs out. Choked, gasping sobs of pleasure so overwhelming her whole body trembles. She’s completely wrecked: can’t think, can’t talk. 

All she can do is take it.

And he doesn’t stop until she’s limp under him.

Later, he pulls out gently, breathing hard, and scoops her up in his arms before she can even sit up. Like last night, he carries her to the bathroom again, runs a bath, and holds her in the water until she stops trembling.

His lips brush her temple as she leans into his chest. “You okay?”

She nods faintly. Then whispers, barely audible: “…yes, Daddy.”

Michael chuckles, warm and deep.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

---

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You rub your lips together one last time as you swipe the lip gloss across your lips. You check your outfit and fluff your hair as you grab your phone off the sink. Your phone buzzes incessantly in your hand with messages from family and friends.

Happy Birthday!

You smile at the goofy and heartfelt messages that your loved ones send you. As you exit the bathroom and head back to the table, your friends all cheer in excitement, which causes the rest of the restaurant to turn to you. You do a little strut while pretending to give a Miss USA wave. 

“Girl, you’re eating that dress up,” Your friend, Aniyah, comments. 

From the other end of the table, your other friend, Santana, pipes up, “Yess! I mean titties and everything sitting up nice!” 

You laugh while taking a sip of your drink, “Thanks for coming, guys! I really do appreciate you all being here.”

“Sis, you know it’s no problem. We definitely weren’t going to miss out on spoiling our girl,” Danny comments. 

For your birthday, you wanted to keep things a bit lowkey this year. This included having a big dinner with your closest friends. Your friends had honored your request by getting you a reservation at a fancy restaurant and making sure that you were having a good time. Soon, you hear the sounds of clapping as the restaurant staff surrounds you to sing Happy Birthday. Your friends all take out their respective phones to record and sing along. 

One of the waitresses sets the dessert in front of you with a candle lit. As you blow out the candle, everyone cheers in excitement. 

“Okay! Time for gifts!” Danny announces. 

One by one, your friends hand you a variety of gifts. Danny gifts you a vintage Chanel bag that you had on your wishlist for ages. Santana gifts you a new pair of heels, along with $500 gift card to Sephora. When it’s Aniyah’s turn, she’s smiling brightly. 

She pulls a colorful box from under the table and slides it in your direction. Aniyah had always been the artsy one out of your friend group, so if she gave you anything, it was always guaranteed to be handmade, which you all appreciated. 

The box feels a bit heavy, but you gasp as you lift the lid of the box. Inside the box is a collection of plates and mugs that you know are handmade.

“Aniyah, you made all of these for me?”

“Yeah, you kept saying that you wanted to add more plates and mugs to your grown woman apartment, so I figured I’d make you some.” 

“Aww..thank you, guys. This is definitely one of the best birthdays,” You state, eyes glistening with tears.

“Don’t start all that crying. You know I cry easily,” Danny quips as he fans his eyes. 

Aniyah perks up, “Oh, wait! Before I forget, I did have one last small gift for you. I know how you love to collect little trinkets, so I got you this.”

She slides the small box over to you as you pick it up.

“One Wish Willow. You only get one wish,” You read aloud. 

Everyone chuckles together. “Well, sis, what are we wishing for?”

Before you can comment, a man walks up to the table and stands in front of you. He’s handsome. Like, real handsome. He graces you with a bright smile, “Hi, I hope I’m not being rude by approaching your table. I’m Kendrick. I heard it was your birthday, and I just wanted to come over to say Happy Birthday.” 

You can feel yourself blushing under his gaze. He licks his lips, “I also just couldn’t sit by without telling the birthday girl how beautiful she looks. Also, it wouldn’t be in good conscience if I didn’t come bearing gifts, so Happy Birthday, ma.” 

From behind his back, he pulls out a bouquet of flowers that look freshly plucked. 

“Did you just get these?” You ask, laughing slightly. 

“Yeah, I ran to the flower shop next door to get them. I couldn’t come over here to shoot my shot without at least applying a little pressure.” 

You chuckle, “Well, Kendrick, I appreciate the effort. It’s greatly appreciated.”

“No problem at all. I hope I’m not too forward with asking for your number?”

“Not at all. Hand me your phone,” You respond. From there, you put your number in his phone, and he calls you so that you’ll have his number. 

“Happy Birthday again. I’ll be reaching out soon,” Kendrick states, flashing you another handsome smile. 

He politely says goodbye to your friends before leaving the table. Your friends turn their heads to you, and Santana starts squealing lowly. 

“Girl! That man was fine! I’m talkin’ 90’s fine!”

“Then he came over here smelling good and giving out gifts. You betta’ hop on that, sis.”

“I’ll think about it,” You state, taking a sip from your drink. 

Danny smacks his lips, “Sis, that man is too fine!” 

Aniyah smirks, “Y’all know she’s still waiting on Michael B. Jordan to come sweep her off her feet.”

“Mhmm..who’s that fine white man from that show, The Pitt, that she be thirsting after?” Santana asks, snapping her fingers to conjure up the name.

“Shawn Hatosy,” Your friends say together. 

“Y’all are tripping. There’s always a possibility that Michael B. Jordan or Shawn Hatosy could see me and instantly fall in love,” You said, holding up your hands. 

Danny reaches over to pull your hand in his, “Hey sis, that’s called delusion.” 

The four of you start to laugh together as you slap Danny’s hand away. You look down at the One Wish Willow on the table and open the box. You quickly read over the instructions before you slide the little stick into your hand. You wave it around in front of your friends, “It’s still my birthday, and Aniyah gifted me this little wish, so I can use it on whatever I want to! So I wish that Michael B. Jordan and Shawn Hatosy appeared in my bedroom tonight!” 

After saying the words, you snap the stick between your fingers. 

Your friends look around for a few minutes, as if expecting some poof of magic to fill the space.

“Sis, you should’ve wished for a billion dollars,” Danny states. 

You shrug. It’s just a little knick-knack. There’s no way that your wish would ever come true. 

After dinner, you say goodbye to your friends as you all hug. You drive back to your apartment and park in your designated spot. The sound of your heels clacking against the floors as you greet Ramon, the doorman. 

“Looks like you had a good night. Happy birthday again,” He comments. 

“Thank you!”

You liked your apartment building because it felt like home. Your landlord and all of the staff were all accommodating and friendly. They’d even taken the time out to make a basket for your birthday. As the elevator dings, you look down at the flowers in your hands. You think about Kendrick’s interest in you and how intentional he was about pursuing you in that moment.

However, you can’t help but let your thoughts wander to your celebrity crushes. You’d been crushing on Michael B. Jordan and Shawn Hatosy for as long as you could remember. Their more recent roles only served to intensify your crush on them. People always laughed when you told them who your celebrity crushes were because Michael and Shawn seemed like men on two separate spectrums of the industry. 

Quite frankly, as Danny has put it, you were a bit delusional.

You firmly believed that if Michael or Shawn had the chance to meet you, they’d both be ready to propose right then and there. The elevator dings before you can let your thoughts venture further. You unlock the door to your apartment and set the flowers on the counter. You grab a vase and begin the work of putting it in the water. 

Once you’re satisfied with the state of the flowers, you move into your bedroom to get ready for the night. For a moment, your mind wanders back to the wish. You allow yourself to slowly walk to the bedroom and push the door open lightly. 

You peer into the room and find it just as empty as when you left. 

“Welp..so much for that wish.”

You go to your dresser to grab your cutest pajamas. You were always under the belief that you should dress cute for sleep. As you shower and change into the lacey set, you make sure to moisturize and spritz perfume along your body. As you do your last-minute door checks, you walk back into the bedroom and slide under the covers. You grab your remote to watch The Faculty. 

Before you know it, you’re drifting off to sleep against your pillows. 

You can hear the distinct sounds of chatter happening in your bedroom. Two distinct male voices whisper harshly to each other as you’re lying on your pillow. For a moment, your heart falls to your stomach as you wonder if someone’s managed to break into your apartment. But they wouldn’t be able to do that without passing Ramon.

Maybe you’re just dreaming. Maybe this is some kind of weird-freaky sleep paralysis thing, where you’re hearing voices. Maybe you had too much to drink tonight. 

You open your eyes and catch two figures standing at the edge of your bed. Quite frankly, it’s not just the best move, but you scream and fling the closest thing to you over at the figures. The closest thing that happens to be the vibrator lying on your nightstand. The vibrator hits one of the figures, and you hear a gruff, “Ow!” 

You blindly reach for the lamp as you flick it on. 

For a second, you genuinely start to wonder if you’re dreaming.

Because there’s no possible way that Shawn Hatosy and Michael B. Jordan are standing at the foot of your bed.

The three of you must look like some cheesy scene from a porno, as Michael and Shawn are both in their pajamas. You try not to ogle Michael’s bare chest or Shawn’s biceps.

“I’m dreaming. Yep, those drinks were stronger than I thought, and now I’m dreaming,” You state, nodding your head along to your therapy.

You stare at both men, “I’m gonna go to sleep. When I open my eyes, you’ll both be gone.” 

You lie down on the pillow and close your eyes. You give yourself a solid minute before you open your eyes and peek back. To your surprise, Michael and Shawn are both still standing there.

Shawn gives you a small smile, “Still here, honey.”

“Oh, my god. This is a nightmare. An actual prolonged nightmare. Quick, one of you pinch me.”

Shawn and Michael both stare at each other. Shawn shrugs before moving to stand beside you. The heat from his body, along with the smell of his cologne, sends your nervous system into overdrive. What kind of nightmare was this if you could smell them?

“Are you sure about this?” He asks, clearly hesitant to pinch you.

“Yeah, it’s just a dream or..nightmare. I’ll just pop right back up.”

You hold your arm out in Shawn’s direction, and he grabs your arm between his hands. You try to ignore the way that your heart beats faster at the feel of his hands on you. Good Lord, if this were a dream, you hoped that you had more just like it. Maybe a little more NSFW…

He looks at you hesitantly until you nod. He grasps your skin between his fingers and pinches. The jolt of pain quickly shoots through you as you pout at the older man.

“So that hurt. And now, I can officially confirm that it’s not a dream,” You said. 

You look at both men, and they also look back at you. You ask the only question that seems to make sense in your head, “Did you guys break into my apartment?”

Michael scrunches his face up, “No, one minute I was sleeping in my bed and then the next thing I know, I’m standing in your bedroom.” 

You both look over to Shawn. He shrugs, “Same thing happened to me.”

You happen to glance over at Michael, who’s still holding your vibrator that you threw at him earlier. If spontaneously combusting was an option, you’d choose it. 

Michael seemingly remembers that he’s holding the object and gives you a small smile, “I think this belongs to you.” 

He leans across the bed to hand the vibrator to you. Shawn watches the interaction like he’s watching a tennis match. You quickly stuff the toy in your top drawer.

You groan and throw yourself back on your pillows, “Well, this has officially been the most embarrassing moment of my life. M’sorry for the inconvenience or whatever voodoo happened, but we can all forget it happened. I’ll walk you both out now.”

You slide from under the covers and you’re unaware of your revealing pajamas as you move closer to the door. Michael’s and Shawn’s eyes both flicker across your form in appreciation. 

“Damn,” they both mutter at the same time. 

They both look at each other before following you out of the bedroom. You turn to them both, “Good news is that you’re both still in LA, so you can just call an Uber.”

“We don’t have our phones,” Michael comments. 

“Right, that was actually pretty dense of me to assume that y’all had them. I’ll get my phone,” you said, turning back into the bedroom. 

Shawn and Michael take the moment to look at each before Michael sticks his hand out. 

“Michael.”

“Shawn. Big fan of your work,” Shawn responds.

“Likewise. Crazy situation we’re in right?” Michael asks.

Shawn folds his arms over his chest, “A part of me still wonders if I’m dreaming, but then again, something tells me I’m not.”

“Same.”

At the tail end of the conversation, you walk back in while typing on your phone. “Okay good news, there’s a lot of Ubers out around this time. You can both just take turns ordering one while you wait.”

You hand the phone to Shawn first, who types in his address before handing the phone to Michael, who does the same. 

“We can pay you back,” Michael suggests.

You wave him off, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll call this whole incident a weird freak accident and leave it at that.” 

You walk over to the fridge to grab three bottles of water. You slide one to each man, who both stand on the other side of the counter to open their bottles. 

They both can’t help the way that they keep staring at you. Well, Shawn ogling you a bit more openly, while Michael at least tries to play the part of gentleman. 

You’re oblivious to their stares.

“So we never actually got your name,” Shawn mentions. 

You tell them, and you can see each man rolling the syllables around in their mouths. Your eyes flicker to Michael and his current shirtless disposition, “Let me go grab you a t-shirt. I’d imagine you wouldn’t want to get into a car without one.”

You walk back over to the bedroom and you’re unaware that Michael and Shawn are watching the way the shorts ride up as you walk. You come back with an oversized t-shirt and toss it to Michael.

He gives you an inquiring look. 

“What? The big t-shirts are the best to sleep in.” As Michael slides the shirt over his head, he imagines you sliding the shirt over your own body. He imagines that you might like to wear a pair of lacy panties beneath the t-shirt. 

Then he thinks of you lying in bed, splayed open as you chase the intense feeling from the vibrator. He clears his throat before taking another sip of the water. 

Your phone buzzes on the table, “Uber’s outside.” 

The three of you walk to the door as you open it for them, “I’m really sorry this happened…even though I’m still unclear on the how. But it was nice to meet you guys.”

“It was nice to meet you too, honey,” Shawn responds.

“Yeah, it was nice to meet you. Thank you for the shirt,” Michael states. 

You give both of the men smiles, even though your heart is pounding in your chest at how good they look. Michael is the first one who goes to exit the door. 

You’re expecting him to cross the barrier as normal, but you’re all very surprised when he bounces back as if something’s blocking the door. 

You and Shawn frown in concern, “Are you okay?”

Michael looks confused at he holds a hold up to the air and tries to reach across the threshold, “It feels like something is right there.”

Lord, Michael B. Jordan is suffering a breakdown at your house. 

“Let me test it,” Shawn states, as he goes to exit your apartment. 

Similar to Michael, he’s stopped at the door as if your invisible barrier stops him from crossing. 

The three of you look at each other. 

“You guys aren’t just messing with me, right?” You inquire. 

They both shake their heads. Michael shrugs, “I’m good but I’m not that good.” 

You frown at the door before moving to cross the threshold. You move through the door and turn to face Michael and Shawn again. They both look each other. “Okay, how about we try it together?” Shawn suggests.

You step back a little as you wait for them to exit the door. As expected, they both bump into the invisible barrier at the same time. 

“Right…So I can leave my apartment, but you can’t.” You walk back inside the apartment as you close the door. You start pacing the floor as Michael and Shawn watch you. 

Michael goes to sit on your couch as Shawn follows suit. “So let’s go over everything that we know. Shawn and I both were in our respective houses, then we appeared here. You can leave your apartment, but we can’t. It’s clear that we’re not dreaming because it’d be pretty crazy to have three people having the exact dream.” 

Shawn nods, “Right, unless we’re all in some state of psychosis, or it could be magic.” He and Michael chuckle in unison as you freeze. 

“Oh crap,” you mutter as you hop from your spot on the couch and go to get your purse from the counter. You pour all of the contents out as you rifle through the clutter. You hold the One Wish Willow package up to your sight. 

You twist the package in your hand as you spot the phone number on the back. You glance at Michael and Shawn, “I know this may sound weird, but I think this may be the cause of our dilemma.”

Michael and Shawn stand from the couch as they come to stand on each side of you. Shawn grabs the box from your hand, “One Wish Willow. You only get one wish. What? You think this little box granted your wish?”

“You wished for us to be here?” Michael questions. 

“As a joke, I swear. My friend got me this for my birthday, and I jokingly made a wish for you both to be here, but I didn’t think it’d work!” You explain, waving your hands out erratically.

“What was your exact wish, sweetheart?” Shawn asked, leaning against the counter.

You swallow nervously, “I wish for you and Michael to appear in my bedroom tonight.” You cover your face in embarrassment. Michael and Shawn both look at each other. Shawn smirks at the realization. You had a crush on them. 

Michael clearly sees how embarrassed you are so he pivots the conversation, “There’s a number on the back, so maybe we call it to see if there’s some way to cancel it.”

You nod as you grab the box and start typing the numbers into your phone. The phone trills as you all wait to see if anyone answers.

“One Wish Willow. This is Aimee, how can I help you?”

“Umm..hi, so I’m having a little problem. I made a wish tonight and it came true, but now I need to have it reversed? Cancelled? Do you guys cancel wishes?” The words all sound crazy as they leave your lips. Wishes were typically things that only happened in fairy tales. 

“So, what was your exact wish if you don’t mind me asking?”

You glance at Michael and Shawn, “I wished for both of my celebrity crushes to appear in my bedroom, and they did.”

“Oh my gosh, who’s your crushes, girly pop?” Aimee squeals. 

You groan, “They’re standing here listening, it’s embarrassing enough, Aimee.”

“You’re right, sorry! Well, I’m sorry to inform you, but we don’t typically do cancellations. The wishes work on intentions as well. The fact that it came true means that you felt very strongly about it, but the wish won’t be fully completed until all of your intentions are fulfilled,” Aimee explains. 

“What does that mean?” Shawn asks towards the phone. 

“Oooo super sexy voice! You go girl! Well, you wished that you wanted them to appear in your bedroom, so I mean not trying to imply anything, but there had to be a reason you chose your bedroom in particular,” Aimee inquires. 

Your eyes widen. You think back to the quick flashes of images that you had of both men in less than innocent positions. Heat creeps up your neck as both Michael and Shawn look at you. 

You groan. “This can’t be happening to me.”

“So girly pop sounds like you need to take those two beautiful men and let them take you to pleasure town, and then the wish will be complete.”  

“Got it. Thanks for your help, Aimee.” 

“Anytime! Good luck,” she concludes, as the call ends. 

Unbeknownst to you, Aimee sits back with a squeal as she ends the call.

Josh, her co-worker, chuckles, “You know you definitely could’ve cancelled her wish, right?”

Aimee blows a bubble with her gum and pops it, “Duh, of course, I knew that Josh! But how lucky is it that she’s able to have both of her celebrity crushes there to take her to pound town? What a dream!”

She sighs wistfully as she starts typing on the computer again. She turns to him, “Plus, it’s way better than that little creep who wished that his best friend loved him more than anyone in the world. Poor girl.”

She and Josh turn back to their respective phones as another call comes in.

You, Michael, and Shawn take turns casting glances at each other after the phone call ends. Shawn decides to be the one to break the ice, “So….now we all have to sleep together?”

Michael shrugs, “Seems like it.” 

You give both men confused looks as it seems like they’re completely on board for you all having a ménage-a-trois. 

“Speaking as the party that got you into this, maybe we shouldn’t right now. I don’t know, it just feels a bit like I’m tricking you guys into it, and I still want to respect your choice. Maybe if we wait, then the wish will wear off. It’s only been about an hour.”

Michael nods, “I agree. Though I don’t want to speak for Shawn, I know that you weren’t being intentionally malicious when you made the wish. Let’s give it a few days, then we’ll make a decision.” 

“I’m on board with that plan. Whatever is best for you. Obviously, your comfort and consent are what matter most here.”

It warms your heart to hear how considerate both men are for your well-being, even though you know that you’re the reason that you’re all in this mess. 

Shawn smiles and claps his hands lightly, “I don’t know about either of you, but I’m exhausted.”

“I only have one room. If you’re both okay with sharing a bed….”You trail off. You rock back and forth on your heels, “Or the couch is pretty comfortable too.”

Shawn and Michael share what feels like their millionth look of the night as they seem to telepathically communicate with each other. 

“I’m fine with sharing the bed, but only if you are, sweetheart,” Shawn states. 

“Yeah, I’m fine with it too, as long as you are,” Michael echoes. 

“I’m fine with it. I trust you both.” 

You turn to walk back to your bedroom as Michael and Shawn follow. You fluff the pillows and pull back the duvet before stopping, “Wait, I didn’t even ask either of you if you liked sleeping under the blanket.”

Michael chuckles, “I’m fine with whatever. This is your crib, I sleep however you do.” Shawn also nods. You slide under the covers and navigate toward the middle of the bed. 

Michael and Shawn walk to their respective sides of the bed before sliding beneath the covers next to you. You can feel the heat radiating from their bodies next to yours. You try to calm your heart as it races at the fact of having them both be here. 

Who else in the world can say that they have Michael B. Jordan and Shawn Hatosy in their bedroom?

You settle against the pillows as they both do the same. Shawn chuckles when he looks at the TV, which is conveniently paused on his face in The Faculty. 

“I looked like such a dweeb around that time,” He said, with his hand on the back of his head.

“I liked the way that you looked in this one, especially your teeth,” you comment.

Shawn chuckles, “You liked my teeth?”

“Yeah, they just look really normal. It’s cute. Michael has nice teeth, too.” Michael chuckles from your other side. 

“Thanks, and as she said, I like your teeth, man. Anything’s better than those veneers that people are getting,” Michael said.

“Right! They’re like piano keys, man.” Shawn responds.

The three of you pause to laugh at Shawn’s joke before silence fills the room again.

“So this is it, huh?” Michael asks.

“Yep,” you and Shawn reply.

You ask Michael to turn the light off on the side, which he does. The three of you are surrounded in darkness as you turn the TV off. Your body is hyperaware of Michael and Shawn’s bodies, along with their breathing. 

“Goodnight,” you said.

“Goodnight.” You’re at a bit of a loss as you continue to lie on your back. Usually, you’re a side sleeper, but you definitely don’t want to, as that would mean you would have to be in either Michael’s or Shawn’s face.

Luckily for you, both men take the initiative to turn on their sides facing the walls. You finally turn on your left side, facing Shawn. 

You close your eyes and try to allow yourself to go to sleep, even though two of the sexiest men that you’ve ever seen are right next to you.

Oh, and let’s not forget the fact that you have to have sex with either of them so that they can leave your apartment.

Happy freaking birthday to you…

You awaken to the distinct feeling of being too hot. Even with the fan blowing in your direction, you still feel hot. You’re also not lost on the feeling of two bodies pressed against yours.

You open your eyes and blink a few times as you adjust to the minimal light. You look in front of you, and your eyes widen at seeing Shawn’s face close to yours. Your eyes trail over his face, where you can see all of his freckles more clearly, along with the greying stubble on his face. 

You become aware of a body pressed to your backside, and you turn your head. Michael’s head is pressed against your bonnet as he has his body completely connected to yours. 

You lift the covers and find that he’s thrown a hand over your waist. You also clock Shawn’s hand, which is pressed to your stomach where your shirt has ridden up. 

You feel the heat creeping along your body at the fact that you can feel a certain other part of both men pressed against you. The heat travels down as you feel yourself becoming somewhat excited.

Nope, this is weird. Maybe you’re being weird. But they’re cuddling you! 

You try your best to wiggle yourself from their hold, but this only causes them both to grip you tighter. Michael unintentionally grips your body tighter as he pulls you further into his hold. 

This appears to affect Shawn as he moves closer to press against you. Seemingly stuck in the position, you try to settle yourself. 

But how exactly does one settle themselves when they’re stuck between their two celebrity crushes, who are also sporting major morning wood? 

From the nightstand, your phone starts pinging incessantly. Michael and Shawn both stir as they finally wake up. 

Sheepishly, you look at both of them, as they both recognize their current predicament. Michael untangles his arm from your waist, “Sorry.”

Shawn also follows the same actions as they both scoot away from you. Sitting up, you crawl from under the blankets and off the bed. Shawn and Michael both watch you as they lock in your shorts and the fact that they both can tell you’re not wearing any panties. 

You grab your phone and open the text messages. Your group chat is active as they try to make plans for brunch. You also note the text from Kendrick. 

You shoot your friends a quick text saying that you can’t make it to brunch due to feeling under the weather. Despite that not being the truth, you decide it’s the best course of action, especially since it’d be rude to leave Michael and Shawn alone in your apartment.

You turn to face them, “Do you guys want breakfast?” 

They nod in unison. Michael sits up, “Yeah, I can come help out.” 

“Same,” Shawn chimes in. You smile and walk out of the bedroom. 

Shawn looks down at the blanket where he and Michael are still very much erect, and seeing you in your pajamas doesn’t help their situation at all. 

“We’re in quite the predicament,” Shawn states to Michael.

“You’re telling me. You think the wish could’ve worn off overnight?” Michael asks.

Shawn shrugs, “I’m not sure. But you heard the girl on the phone. I just want us to all be comfortable and consenting before we solidify any plans.”

“Same. Though, would it be weird if I admitted that I wouldn’t be mad if it happened?”

“Not at all. She’s a beautiful girl, and she’s obviously very attracted to us if she picked us for the wish. Plus, the lady did mention that the wish works on intention, so it sounds to me like she really wanted it to be us,” Shawn theorizes. 

Once they’re sure that they won’t be flashing any boners at you, they walk into the kitchen together. You’ve already started making the batter for the pancakes. You look up at them, “Any allergies that I should know about?”

Both men shake their heads. Michael goes over to the stove to start cooking the bacon, while Shawn takes the other spot on the stove to warm the pan for the pancakes.

The three of you naturally work as a cohesive unit with cooking food and cutting up fruits. Shawn moves to help Michael with making each of your plates. You take out three glasses and pour juice for you all. 

You start a pot of coffee in the background. As the three of you sit at the counter, you idly chat and eat. Once you’re finished, Michael and Shawn clean the plates, while you make each of you a cup of coffee.

Both men watch you intensely as you effortlessly add different ingredients to the coffee before sliding the mugs over to them. 

They both take a sip and moan simultaneously. 

“This is the best cup of coffee that I’ve had in a long time,” Shawn points out. 

“Thanks, I used to work as a barista at a coffee shop a few years ago. I guess you never really forget skills like that.” 

You rock on your heels, “I’m gonna go shower and change. My friend has some of his spare clothes here that I think could fit you both. You can use my phone to order briefs. There are spare toothbrushes and deodorant here, too.”

Michael frowns, “Your boyfriend?”

“Definitely not! Danny’s definitely checking for the other team,” you respond before turning to leave. 

Both men sigh in relief. It’d be really awkward trying to sleep with you if you had a man. 

Shawn and Michael navigate to your living room, where they both settle to watch TV. They use your phone to order briefs, among other supplies. Before they place the order, Michael puts his card number into the app. 

It isn’t long before the delivery guys drop the order off at the front door. Michael and Shawn try to test if either of them can reach past the door, but find that they still can’t go past the threshold. 

They settle on dragging the bag in with your umbrella. When you walk out of the bedroom, both men’s eyes flicker over to you. 

They can’t help but look at the way that the flare yoga pants hug your curves. What makes matters even worse is that you smell good, and you look even better with your hair all fluffed out. 

“I see you guys ordered something, which means you had to use the door. Was there any luck with passing?”

Shawn shakes his head, “Nope, we had to use an umbrella.” You bite your lip nervously. You had hoped that the wish would wear off during the night, but it seemed like Aimee’s words were true.

You’d have to crack Michael and Shawn for them to leave. 

The men can clock the look on your face and figure that you’re coming to the same conclusion as they are. 

Shawn and Michael both take turns showering and changing. They both look like sin embodied as they step out of your bedroom. Due to Danny being a little smaller than either of them, the clothes stick to them a little more, showcasing their abs and muscles.

Subtly, you press your thighs together, which they both catch. 

As you all sit on the couch together, Michael turns to you, “So what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a licensed esthetician, I own a shop downtown,” You respond. 

“That’s cool. So you do waxes and facials?” Shawn asks. You nod in agreement.

“I guess we know who we can come to, don’t we, Michael?” 

Michael chuckles, “Yeah, maybe she’ll throw in a discount.”

You laugh softly, “I got y’all. But to be honest, you both hardly need my services. You both have really pretty skin and brows already.” 

You move your hand up to trace Shawn’s eyebrow, “The silver really suits you.”

Without thinking, the older man leans close and presses his lips against yours. Once the initial shock wears off, you let yourself sink into the kiss as your lips move against his. Shawn brings a hand up to cup your cheek as his tongue slides along the seam of your lips. You moan softly once the man slides his tongue into your mouth. You seem to remember that Michael is present in the room as you pull back from the kiss. 

You turn your head and find that Michael is watching you and Shawn in amusement…and maybe curiosity.

He chuckles, “So y’all just forgot about me, huh?”

Shawn smirks, “Why don’t you kiss him, Princess? I think he’s feeling left out.” 

You move closer to Michael, who gently pulls your body to his. When your lips touch his, he immediately takes over the kiss. You moan into his mouth as he presses his hand against your throat. From your other side, Shawn watches you and Michael kiss. Quite frankly, he hasn’t seen anything quite as sexy as the two of you. He scoots over to start peppering kisses down your neck. Michael does the same as both men kiss and bite gently on your neck. 

You jump at the feel of Shawn’s hand creeping between your thighs. Upon feeling you jump, he leans back, and Michael does the same. 

You meet Shawn’s eyes, “Hey, sweetheart, we don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do. I think that we all can agree that this is a pretty weird situation, but I won’t sit here and lie like I’m not attracted to you.” 

Michael turns your head to his, “You say the word, and we stop. We don’t want you to feel pressured into anything, but we’re both okay with it if you are.”

You take a moment to view the situation objectively. You’d successfully wished for both of your celebrity crushes to end up in your bedroom, and here they are offering themselves up to you on a silver platter. What girl in her right mind would be crazy enough to give up the opportunity to be cracked by Michael B. Jordan and Shawn Hatosy at the same time?

“I’m fine with it. I want both of you.”

Honestly, you should’ve known that the second that you agreed that both men would be on you like white on rice. Shawn and Michael both resumed their kisses on your neck as Shawn trailed a hand towards the apex of your thighs.

Michael has managed to slide his hand under his shirt as he cups your breasts in his hand. You moan softly as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. Shawn takes his fingers to press against the seam of your pants as he starts to rub your center. 

Michael tugs at your shirt until you lift it over your head. Both men use the opportunity to ogle your chest in the mesh bra. Shawn reaches behind you to unclasp the bra as Michael pulls it from your chest.

Michael and Shawn move their heads down to take your nipples into their mouths. As they lick and suck on your nipple, Shawn slides a hand inside your pants to touch your wet panties. 

He pulls back, “She’s so wet for us. You should have a feel.”

Michael slides his hand in next to Shawn’s, except he slides his finger beneath your panties to slide along your wet folds. 

“I think she’d look even better if we took the rest off,” Michael comments, to which Shawn nods. They take their free hand to begin tugging your pants and underwear down. Before you know it, you’re completely bare to their sight. 

They both take the opportunity to grab your legs and spread them. Michael leans over to press a kiss to your cheek, “You’re so wet for us, baby. You want us that bad?”

Your wide eyes meet his as you nod. From your other side, Shawn chuckles before grabbing your jaw in his hold, “We don’t do motions, baby. We need to hear you. Why don’t you answer his question again? Do you want us that badly?”

He ghosts his fingertips across your clit as your chest heaves up and down. “Yes, daddy, I want you both so much.”

A dark smirk overcomes Shawn’s lips, “You hear that, brother? We’re daddy now.”

“Let’s see how loud we can make her scream it,” Michael responds. He gets up from the couch and heads to your bedroom. He arrives a few moments later with your mirror from the bedroom. He sets it directly in front of the couch, “I saw it last night, and all I could think about is how pretty you’d looki cumming in front of it.”

Your jaw drops. Michael is a freak, just as you expected. 

Shawn looks at you, “Keep your eyes on the mirror, baby. I wouldn’t want you to miss how pretty you look.” He trails two thick fingers down your dripping entrance before sliding them back up to circle your clit. He places both fingers on your outer lips to spread you open crudely. 

Michael plops down on the couch and locks his eyes on your weeping entrace, “So pretty, babygirl. She’s dripping for us.” He brings his fingers to your pussy and starts to rub circles on your clit as Shawn holds you open. Soon, both men are massaging your pearl as they whisper in your ears. 

Shawn moves his fingers down to your entrance. He dips the tips of his fingers into your entrance before pulling them out. Your hips buck up to meet his touch. He chuckles, “You’re eager. You need my fingers in this greedy little cunt?”

Your needy eyes meet his, “Yes, please touch me.” 

“Good girl,” they both say in unison. Shawn pushes his fingers inside of you, and you both moan at the same time. Shawn’s thick fingers stretch you open as he drags them along your wet walls. He curls his fingers upwards as you jerk beneath his touch. Michael continues rubbing precise strokes along your pearl as you moan openly throughout the room. 

Shawn brushes against your spot as your pleasure grows from Michael’s fingers. You throw your head back as your legs start to shake. Immediately, both men remove their fingers. Your wide eyes meet theirs, and you can feel the tears starting to well up. 

“Aww…it’s okay baby. You were being so bad. We told you to keep your eyes on the mirror and I don’t think we want to repeat ourselves, right Shawn?” 

“That’s right, brother. Now, baby, keep your eyes on the mirror while we play,” Shawn orders softly, but there’s an edge in his voice that lets you know that he’s not playing. 

“Okay, I will,” you reply, voice shaky with anticipation. 

Michael and Shawn return their fingers to your core, but they switch spots. Micheal’s fingers travel into your entrance, while Shawn’s calloused tips dance across your clit. The heat builds inside of you almost instantly.  

You keep your eyes locked onto the filthy sight as each time that Shawn strokes you, more of your wetness coats Michael’s fingers. 

“She’s leaking for us,” Michael states, keeping his eyes on your ruined face. 

“Yeah she is, but you know I’d really like to see her do? I’d like to see her make a mess,” Shawn said, rubbing quicker circles on your clit. You feel the gradual release building in your stomach, along with hearing the wet sounds of Michael’s fingers slapping against you. 

Your hands go to grab both men as the chord inside you finally snaps. Michael curls his fingers as your release overtakes you. A sharp squeal leaves your mouth as you feel the tingles rushing throughout your entire being. A gush of clear liquid leaves you. 

You try in vain to close you legs, but both men are proactive enough to hold them open and to your chest. 

Your sight blurs and you swear for a moment, you genuinely leave your body. As your climax comes down, Michael and Shawn slow their movements. 

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Shawn quips as he brings his fingers up to his lips. 

“You’re telling me,” Michael comments as he looks down at your release coating his fingers. One by one, he licks each finger as he moans. 

“You taste sweet, babygirl. Can I get another taste?” Michael asks. 

“Please.” At this point, you’re down for whatever they’re down for. 

Michael picks you to carry you into the bedroom while Shawn follows. He sets you down gently on the bed as they stand in front of you. 

“Take your shirts off,” you said, to which both men oblige. 

You turn your gaze back and forth as you admire the different contours of their bodies. Feeling bold, you lean forward to trails your hands up their chests and back down. Your hand goes lower as you cup their length through the sweatpants. 

“Can I touch you both?”

“You can do whatever you want to us, sweetheart,” Shawn replies, breath heavy with lust. You take the initiative reach inside their sweatpants and grasp your hands around their dicks. 

But who should you put your mouth on first? Shawn seems to read the conflict on your face and smirks, “You taste him first, sweetheart. I wanna watch.”

You follow the older man’s instructions as you move closer to Michael. You lick a long stripe up the underside of his dick as he releases a heavy moan. 

You envelope Michael into your mouth as you keep your hand connected to his base. You bob your head up and down while your eyes meet his. Michael pulls you off with a soft pop, “Now you taste him, baby.”

You move over to Shawn and wrap your lips around his tip. You moan at the taste of precum hitting your taste buds. You take him deeper into your mouth as he grips your hair. At the same time, you move your hand up and down in sync on Michael’s dick. 

Both men breathe deeply and groan at how good you’re making them feel. It only makes you wetter as you push your thigh together. 

Shawn clocks the motion and pulls you off. 

He leans down to press his lips to yours and slide his tongue into your mouth. He moans at the taste of himself and Michael on your tongue. 

“Lay on the pillows, baby. We need our taste, too.”

Releasing Michael from your hand, you slide up the bed until you’re lying on your pillows. Shawn and Michael crawl onto the bed until they’re both sitting between your legs. They hungrily eye your glistening folds. 

Michael looks at Shawn, “It’s only right that you get first taste.”

“How about we both taste her at the same time?” Shawn suggests. At this suggestion, you feel yourself clenching around nothing. Shawn catches sight of this, “Looks like she likes the sound of that.”

With that, both men move closer so that their faces are nearly stuffed into your pussy. Their tongues come out at the same time to circle your clit. A low whine tears from your throat at the sensation of both men slurping away at you. 

Their tongues clash against each other, yet neither seem to mind. You bring your hands up to place on their heads as you let the sensations take over you. Shawn moves down to lap at your entrance while Michael’s lips fully envelope your clit. He gently sucks the small bud between his lips as he looks up at you. 

Your legs start to shake again, signaling to each man that you’re close. They speed up their efforts as they both listen to your increasing moans.

“Oh..right there..I’m so close,” You whimper. Both men hum into your center, which sends you over the edge. Shawn laps at your entrance as more of your wetness flows from you, while Michael keeps sucking to prolong your pleasure.

You flop back onto the pillow as you take deep breaths, “You’re both trying to kill me.”

Michael pops up, licking away at his lips, “We just wanna make you feel good, babygirl.” 

Shawn moves up, “Yeah, we’re just making your wish come true.”

They both give you a moment to recuperate before moving to the next position. You give them both a nod that you’re ready.

Michael looks to Shawn, “I don’t have a condom unless you do?”

“Nope.”

They turn to face you, “I don’t have any either. It wasn’t like I wasn’t expecting to get cracked this weekend. But I am on birth control and I’m clean…”

“It’s your call, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine with it. Plus, I really want to feel you both,” you answer. 

“How do you want us?” Michael asks, eyes trailing along your body. 

You bite your lip, “I want you to fuck me from behind while I taste Shawn. Then I want you both inside me at the same time. There’s lube in the drawer.”

Michael and Shawn gulp at your lewd words and you notice that both of their dicks jerk slightly at the words. You grab the lube from the nightstand and set it off to the side on the bed.

“Lay down, daddy,” You tell Shawn, who obliges. 

He navigates to the top of the bed as you kneel between his legs. At the same time, you arch your back and present yourself to Michael. 

He positions himself behind you and groans at your wet pussy. He slides his dick up and down before notching it at your entrance. You move your mouth over Shawn’s dick before allowing a large glob of spit to leave your mouth. You slurp his length down just as Michael starts to push himself inside of you. Once he bottoms out, you all mutually moan at the pleasure. 

Michael pulls back and hisses at the tight feel of your walls to clinging to him. He pushes back in and starts a steady rhythm. 

“She’s so tight, man,” Michael groans out. 

At the top of the bed, Shawn’s mind is gone as it feels like you’re sucking the soul out of his body. He pulls your hair out of your face, “Yeah, our pretty girl. You’re doing so good for us, baby. Pretty ass mouth and your perfect pussy.” 

You squeeze around Michael at Shawn’s words. He smirks, “She likes being praised.” He grasps your hips firmly in his hands as he speeds up his thrusts. 

If anyone walked in now, they’d have no doubt about what was happening in your bedroom. The wet sounds of your slurping Shawn down combined with soft squelching and skin slapping against skin fills the room. 

Michael watches entranced as you start thrusting back onto him. The more he stroke, the more of creamy wetness forms a ring around the base of his dick. 

He grabs the lube to spread across his fingers. Your other hole is practically inviting him to play. Michael rubs his fingers around your backdrop entrance. He goes to push a finger in when you tense up, “Shhh…s’okay baby, it’s just me. Don’t tense up, I gotta get you ready.”

He pushes his finger in once again as it fully submerges inside you. Gently, he thrusts his finger in and out. Once he knows that you’re comfortable, he starts to slide another finger in. You moan around Shawn at the intrusion. 

Michael scissors his fingers around your hole as he continues to thrust inside of you. The combined stimulation has you shaking in their hold again. 

“There we go baby. Come for us again,” Shawn coos. With one last thrust, you fall apart again. You pull off Shawn with a loud moan as the pleasure consume you. 

Carefully, Michael slides from both of your holes. Both men stand from the bed as they maneuver your pliant body into their hold. 

Shawn stands in front, and they both lower you down so that his dick can enter you. Michael places his tip at your back entrance. As he pushes in, you start to wince. 

Shawn moves a hand down to stroke your clit, “Relax, we both got you. Just let him in.”

Michael slips deeper inside you until he bottoms out.

Your eyes roll back, “You’re both so deep.” You miss the mutual look that they both share as they start thrusting inside you. 

Michael and Shawn hold you up between their bodies like it’s an everyday occurrence. Your eyes go down to their biceps and the sweat that’s illuminating both of their bodies. 

“You feel so good, babygirl,” Michael moans into your ear. 

“Best I’ve ever had,” Shawn echoes. 

They both start increasing their movements as the sounds of skin slapping increases. You all moan loudly against each other. Shawn connects his lips to yours as she sloppily makes out with you. Michael leans down to join the kiss, and the three of you are engaged in a messy makeout session. 

It’s hard to distinguish who is kissing who. At some point, you’re pretty sure that Michael and Shawn are kissing each other. 

You can feel your orgasm approaching with how it tugs at your stomach. 

Tears well up at your waterline, “Daddy…”

Michael and Shawn take this as their sign to speed up. Your body roughly jostles in their arms. You can feel both of their lengths moving simultaneously inside of you as you start to shake. 

“M’gonna cum,” you announce, tears starting to drip from your eyes. 

“Let go for us baby. You’ve been doing so good for us,” Shawn praises. 

Michael moves his mouth to his ear, “We wanna see you cum for us one last time, baby.” 

The chord snaps and everything releases. Your loud, watery moan echoes throughout the apartment as you now openly weep on their dicks. You’re surprised that your neighbors haven’t called the police yet. 

It sounds like an exorcism is happening in the room. 

Michael and Shawn can feel their own orgasms creeping. 

“Where do you want it, baby?” Michael asks, voice tense. 

“Inside,” you whine. 

This seems to light a fire under each men as they thrust harshly inside of you. You’re a rag doll just here to be used for their pleasure. 

Shawn groans loudly and you feel the warm spurts of his cum shooting against your cervix. Michael follows after with his own loud moan as he stuffs his face in your neck. His warm cum shoots inside of you, and you can only moan at the mutual sensations. 

Once you all come down from your highs, you breathe heavily against each other. Michael pulls out of you gently while Shawn does the same. 

They set you on your feet, but keep their hands on you to steady you. You look like an absolute ruined mess with tears staining you cheeks and your hair flying every which way. Light bruises and love bites litter your body. Cum oozes down your thighs and drips onto the floor. 

Both men chuckle at your dazed expression. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, honey.”

Once they make sure that they’ve cleaned you up proper, you all slide beneath the covers together. Shawn and Michael scoot closer to cuddle your tired body to theirs. 

“Happy Birthday,” Michael mutters against your skin. 

Shawn looks at you, “Yeah, Happy Birthday to you, sweetheart. Was it everything you wished for?”

“And more,” you reply before your eyes shut. Your soft breathing echoes through the room. Michael and Shawn press kisses to your head as they close their eyes.

Michael wakes up the next morning and finds that you and Shawn aren’t in bed. He figures that you both must be in the living room or in the kitchen.

He slides on a pair of briefs before walking into the open space. He expects to find you and Shawn eating at the counter. 

What he doesn’t expect to find is you riding Shawn on the couch. Your moans and his groans fill the space, along with the slap of your skin against his. 

“Well this is a pleasant surprise,” Michael comments. 

Shawn looks over his shoulder, “Morning, we didn’t want to wake you. We were gonna make breakfast, but we got a little preoccupied.” At this, you throw your arms around his shoulders as you keep bouncing. 

Your ruined gaze finds Michael, “Morning. I can start on breakfast after we’re done.”

Michael chuckles, “Don’t worry about it, babygirl. I’ll start on it for us.”

He moves to the kitchen and starts taking out all of the stuff to make French toast, bacon, and eggs. Michael casually moves through the kitchen and cooks, as if you and Shawn aren’t fucking a few feet from him. 

Once in a while, he’ll peek over to catch enjoy the view of the two of you lost in pleasure. Just as he takes the bacon out and starts on the eggs, you and Shawn moan loudly as your orgasms hit you both. 

You sag against Shawn as you catch your breath. You slide off of him as you grab your panties. Shawn slides his dick inside of his briefs. You both come over to take a seat at the counter. 

Michael plates food for the three of you as you and Shawn thank him. He leans over to press a kiss against your lips. 

The three of you eat together and chat. You all look like a cohesive unit as you make jokes with each other. 

Shawn can see the way that Michael is eyeing you. As you’re about to go wash the plates, Shawn stops you. 

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart. Why don’t you and Michael have some one on one time?” He suggests, gathering the plates. 

You nod and grab Michael’s hand to guide him to the couch. He takes a seat and pulls you onto his lap. He pushes down his briefs and slides your panties to the slide. 

Michael groans deeply once he sinks into you. You’re still wet with Shawn’s cum. The other man hums as he is now treated to the sight of watching you and Michael. 

After your little session with Michael, the three of you sit on the couch together, staring at the ceiling. Your legs are in Shawn’s lap while you lay your head in Michael’s lap.

“We should try the door. I mean, as much sex that we’ve had, I think the wish should be complete,” you state. 

Michael and Shawn tense beneath you. As much as the wish was an inconvenience, they won’t lie like they haven’t had a good time with you. Sex aside, both men are taken with your personality. 

The three of you stand from the couch and walk to the door. You open it as three of you stare at each other. Shawn takes a deep breath and steps forward. He walks to the threshold and finds that he can pass through with ease. 

You gesture for Michael to do the same. He walks through and passes through the door. Both men look at you as you stare at them. You fight to keep the sadness off your face, but you fail. 

Shawn and Michael walk back inside and you all sit at the counter again. 

“So…I guess this is goodbye,” you state.

“Well, we don’t necessarily have to stop communicating,” Shawn suggests. 

Michael nods, “I’d still like to keep in touch with you both.” He turns his gaze to you, “I like you a lot. I think it’s safe to say he feels the same.”

“He’s right. I like you a lot, sweetheart. I know we’re probably all unsure of where this will go, but I’m willing to make this work however I can.”

You look at them both, “So, you’d both be my boyfriends or…”

“We can be whatever you want us to be,” Michael responds. 

“How about this? How about we take you on a proper date, and then we can work out the details there?” Shawn suggests. 

You take a second to think it over. You’d had your world rocked by both of your celebrity crushes, and now they wanted to date you. 

You’d be stupid not to explore it. 

“Okay, let’s do it.”

The three of you smile at each other. This was about to be the beginning of something rather unique, but well worth it.

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There was music in every room, drifting through the house with an easy familiarity that poured from the built-in speakers tucked discreetly into the ceilings as if it had always belonged there. D’Angelo rolled lazily through the living space, its warm bassline weaving around the preparations already underway.

The house had been awake for hours.

By eight o’clock that morning, the florist had transformed the foyer into a garden of white garden roses, orchids, and eucalyptus that climbed from the floor in towering arrangements. By ten, the catering company had claimed the kitchen, replacing the scent of fresh breakfast with garlic, rosemary, and warm bread cooling beneath linen towels. Now, just after three, the house pulsed with the kind of organized movement that only existed when dozens of people were working toward the same moment.

Outside, someone adjusted the final strand of café lights suspended above the backyard terrace, while another carefully polished the champagne tower that would greet guests as they arrived.

For tonight’s event, Michael had hired an event planner — and no one who knew him had been surprised.

Planning had never been his strongest suit, but when it came to Y/N, he had developed an almost supernatural ability to remember details. He remembered which flowers she absentmindedly reached for at the farmer’s market, the way she always moved the candles closer together after setting the table because she thought it made dinner feel warmer.

He remembered that she wanted a dinner party where no one had to cook, clear plates, refill glasses, or worry about entertaining because everyone (including the hosts) deserved to enjoy the evening.

She had mentioned it once. Nearly a year ago.

So when they’d finally settled into the house, unpacked the last box, and agreed that it was time to invite everyone over, Michael hadn’t simply envisioned a dinner, but an evening around her.

The menus had been letterpressed on textured cream cardstock; each guest’s place card had been handwritten in gold calligraphy. The florist recreated the same white floral palette Y/N had saved to a Pinterest board months earlier without realizing he’d seen it.

Even the playlist had been arranged hour by hour, beginning with classic R&B while everyone got ready, easing into cocktail music as guests arrived, before transitioning into a livelier mix after dinner.

He wanted the night to feel effortless for her — which, ironically, required an extraordinary amount of effort from him.

You’d stood in your bathroom one week ago, staring at your own reflection deeply. You were done settling for half-hearted conversations and a version of Jude that barely seemed to have room for you anymore. Granted, he was a high-performance athlete dealing with the pressures that came with the title… But still, that wasn't fair to you!

But… It also wasn’t your fault you were terrible at keeping your word.

“Where are you going?” Jude’s voice pulled you from your drowning thoughts. You glanced over your shoulder, finding him stretched across the bed, watching as you wandered around the room collecting your things.

The wadded sheets that caressed his lower half did little to offer modesty, his taupe skin glistened with sweat across his abdomen, decorated in red lines left moments ago by your nails.

You ignored his words as you shifted your lace underwear up your trembling, tired legs, your eyes scanned the room in search of all of your clothing. Jude had never been too considerate or precise when discarding them across the floor; he was always so needy and desperate with you.

“Oh, come off it,” Jude scoffed jokingly, not understanding why you’d been in such a hurry after fucking. “We are well past this.”

Touché—you raised your eyebrows in agreement. You had always stayed back, cuddled up in Jude’s arms until he checked out of the hotel the next morning. And that was the issue.

“Jude, you know this was a mistake.” You grumbled out, not offering him a second glance. You know if you did, you wouldn’t want to leave. And that made you annoyed. Especially with yourself.

Jude laughed. Laughed! God, you sometimes envied how unbothered he could be. You rolled your eyes, turning away to find your skirt crumpled on the floor. With an irritated sigh, you shimmed it back up your legs while Jude pushed himself off the bed, tugging on his boxers as though nothing had happened.

“Ouch,” his lip came to a pout, acting as if your words had stung him. He didn't believe you, so they didn't affect him. Damnit!

“I told you last time this wasn't happening again.” You volleyed out an explanation, sounding more like you were convincing yourself rather than him. And you were—Jude didn't even ask for an explanation.

“Ah.. And yet, here we are.” Jude exhaled a chuckle through his nose; and your annoyance was beginning to spread due to his inability to take you seriously.

“Well it's not happening again.”—Famous last words. You looked at Jude and hoped your expression was enough to persuade him to believe your words. But he didn't; maybe because you were the one who sought him out tonight. Or maybe because he didn't want to believe you deep down. Regardless.. He’d prefer to avoid such conversations.

You groaned when you couldn't find your shirt while Jude watched in amusement. He didn't bother to help you—why would he cover up the red and purple marks that caressed your skin thanks to himself?

“Have I lost my touch or something?” Jude knew that wasn't the case. Not when you had just cummed around his fingers and cock three times.

You took a sharp inhale and spun on your heels to face him fully, “Listen, I'm no longer fine with just being a fuck of convenience.” You admitted, shoulders shrugging defeatedly. Only then did you capture the falter on Jude’s face—or rather—his deep eyes. Oh, his eyes. You could get lost in his expressive, gorgeous eyes.

His eyebrows pinched together in confusion as his lips tugged into a small frown.

“That's what you think this is?” His question almost sounded accusatory, but you knew better when it came to Jude. He was just so unintentionally animated, that anything he said came out ten times more passionate.

Jude bent over and scooped up your shirt off the floor but refrained from forfeiting it just yet.

Come to think of it, you didn't want to answer his question, even though it had the most obvious answer. You didn't need it rubbed into your face that your needs didn't align. So, instead, you went to grab your shirt from his grip, but he was quick to draw it back; eyebrows curling in question. Jude really wanted an answer.

“How else would you describe it, Jude?” You tilted your head to the side.

Jude faltered once more, his lip trembling. He hadn’t signed up for this. He avoided this question the last time when you had ‘ended’ the arrangement that had been going on for far too many months now.

“Fun,” Jude settled on. And when you let out a dry, disbelieving laugh, he shuddered. “You.. You know what I mean,” he attempted to follow up.

It startled him. Jude was usually good with words. People had always told him he was mature beyond his years, that he always knew the right thing to say. But when it came to you, he felt like the stupidest man alive.

He searched for a better word, but nothing came. Convenience wasn’t right. It made you sound temporary, interchangeable. You were anything but that.

“I know what to expect from you, Jude.” You successfully grabbed your shirt this time and yanked it over your head. “I'm not going to ask for more. But this isn't enough for me anymore.”

Your explanation was fair; he couldn't complain. Jude couldn't throw it in your face, tell you that he already warned you that he didn't want anything serious. Couldn't make it your problem, or tell you that you were wrong, or your expectations were wrong.

Because they weren't wrong. And that was Jude’s problem. You made sense, you were doing what was right by you. So why did it make him feel like shit? He should be grateful you weren't putting him in an awkward position he had been in far too many times, forced to let others down. He really couldn’t find the words to say anything.

“Thanks for the fun night,” you smiled sarcastically, being able to throw his words in his face. Jude had to refrain from scoffing in disbelief.

You knew damn well it wouldn’t be the last time you saw Jude, but you’d hoped it’d be the last time you were that close to the footballer. Given that the last time you melted beneath his touch and came undone from nothing more than a few whispered words and lingering touches.

You prayed that was the case, and it seemed more and more likely that it was as the months flew by.

Jude knew you were in Madrid; he always knew what clubs you were attending despite never telling him. The smarter side of your brain screamed out danger but the impulsive side made you miss the little game you two had.

Honestly, he barely crossed your mind, it wasn't like it was hard to avoid a footballer. Hot property, especially in Madrid. There were fans chomping at the bit to get their hands on any Real Madrid player, thus security crowded around anyone with any sort of status. It was impossible to stumble across the man.

But ignoring his presence was a bigger feat than intended, especially when he scored the winning goal against Barcelona. As if the posters of his face and name everywhere weren't enough!

Suddenly, Jude’s face was plastered everywhere all at once, and only his name dropped from everyone's lips. You'd like to think there was no bad blood; but he was so hard to resist and you resented him for it. Suddenly he was everywhere—yet not in reach. Perhaps it was a good thing.

So you were optimistic. If getting near Jude was hard before, it'd be ten times harder now. Man of the moment; you felt that you'd be in the clear.

So.. How the fuck did you manage to be only five people back in the front of the line for the exclusive after party club? Your VIP pass decorated your neck as Jude walked past the front doors. He was ushered through the crowd, no need to pay or wait like every other eager party-goer, hoping their name made the list with cash in hand to pay for entry.

Jude shouldn't had spotted you, not with the gaggle of paparazzi that snapped enough pictures to blind a person or the slew of people cheering for him for a shred of attention. But, of course, Jude did.

“Hey, hey, they’re with me.” Jude stopped in his tracks; fishing you and your friend out of line towards him. The second your eyes met his, your expression hardened. Jude only snickered, looking far too pleased with himself.

You wanted to stay where you were and tell him you would wait like everyone else and get in yourself. Your pride was too strong to spare yourself ten minutes and a couple of hundred euros. Yet, your best friend, however, was far too pleased to get in for free. She didn't know your guys’ history, and you couldn't blame her for wanting to be a part of the attention. Hell, you knew Jude was hot as much as she did.

Deep down, it almost felt shameful, as if you were just some pretty girl Jude picked out to entertain himself with. But you only viewed it that way because you feared that had been true in the past. And knowing him, it probably was.

“Would you believe me if I said this is almost the highlight of the day?” Jude spoke to you with a wide grin, head ducked down towards you to ensure you heard him over the music growing in volume as you entered the venue.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes even; it appeared opting to be cold was the easiest option. Friendliness never lasted long with you two; being friendly became flirty. Flirting leads to touching and suddenly you'd be trapped beneath the nearest surface and his fiery body.

"No." Your answer was short, 'forgetting' to mumble the obvious, a congratulations, you'd feel bad if he wasn't getting it from every angle, but he was.

Jude’s grin only widened, regardless, bemused at your words. You weren't surprised, you doubted anything would wipe the shit-eating grin off his face right now. A breath of relief escaped you when someone grabbed at his arm and tugged him along, turning his attention elsewhere as you turned to your friend. Drinks were an absolute need tonight.

In hindsight, deciding to stay in the secluded area reserved for the Real Madrid player was definitely a bad idea. But with the rest of the venue packed shoulder to shoulder, you stood by your decision.

The free drinks and friendly faces proved to be enough of a distraction; music and alcohol flowing through your veins, so much so you’d join in on the cheers every time someone toasted to the footballer, or his name popped up on a board with bottles of champagne arriving.

An arm slithering around your waist should’ve been alarming, but shamefully you recognised the muscular grip immediately, your body naturally welcoming such action instead of pulling away.

“You still haven’t congratulated me.” Jude’s voice was low and in your ear, Birmingham accent thick, making you have to take a sharp breath. It was stupid, ridiculous the way such an action could have your mind growing hazy.

“Haven't I?” You posed the question innocently, bringing your drink to your lips as if it would offer you refuge from the temptation behind you.

You’d lost your friend ages ago, and suddenly you couldn’t recognise many people around you. Or maybe you didn’t make an effort to, because the company you quietly craved was the man behind you.

“Nope,” Jude popped the ‘p,’ lips lingering next to your ear momentarily before he pulled away to also bring his drink to his lips, you taking the moment to turn around and face him. “Not very nice of you, you know?”

You’d rolled your eyes again, a small laugh escaping you. Wanting to point out the fact that everyone was dropping to their knees to sing his praise. He didn’t need it from you. Not to mention how pesky his little Britishisms can be.

Did it make your heart skip a beat that he wanted it, though? Of course it did, despite your brain screaming that it shouldn’t. It was far too easy to cling onto anything this man did.

“Well done,” you spoke, voice laced with sarcasm despite there being truth to your words. “I’m so, so, so proud of you!”

Jude chuckled and his face lit up in amusement once more; a vast contrast to every other conversation he had tonight. This very reason he’d sought you out. Jude thought it spoke for something, the fact his mind had been consumed with so many thoughts of you despite the win he’d just accomplished with the team.

“Thank you.” Jude grinned from ear to ear, and it was as if on cue, he was being tugged away once more; and suddenly, you could breathe again.

You took the time to grab some much needed air, a balcony not too far. The next hour or so ended up being a bit of a blur. You ended up back on the dance floor, familiar faces all around, drinks continuously flowing—reunited with your friend whose lipstick was now smudged and hair slightly tangled, your hands quick to fix it up with small giggles.

You were loosening up, so much so that when Jude next appeared with two drinks in hand and daring eyes… You couldn’t help but accept. You were practically dying by your own hand, you knew you should politely decline and slip back into the crowd. But Jude Bellingham was always so hard to ignore, especially in a black button-up and white slacks.

Both of you toasted and raised the glasses to your lips, somehow still moderately sober in comparison to those around you. You knew your limits and you didn't want the night to end prematurely.

“You're not mad at me, are you?” Jude had to shout for you to hear, your eyes narrowing as you shook your head. You were somewhat surprised at his efforts. His ability to seek you in a crowd that was there for him and his team. All for what? To ask you that question?

“Why would I be mad at you?” You deflected, because you knew he had a point. You weren’t mad at him, obviously. He hadn't done anything; you’d been the one to… get attached. But you were quite clearly being distant and cold and you didn’t feel like explaining why.

Jude shrugged his shoulders, face scrunching up like he was thinking momentarily, giving you time to admire how pretty he looked. How his large hand wrapped around the glass, the way his arms looked with his sleeves rolled up.

“You’re avoiding me,” his brow shot up and you were rolling your eyes once more, like a broken record. The grin on his face showed he didn’t care to sound desperate; that he was well aware why you were acting in such a way. He distinctly remembered the last conversation between the pair of you. How you swore off the two of you—much to his dismay.

“I’m not! I’m keeping a friendly distance,” you corrected playfully, eyebrows raising as he nodded unconvincingly, lips parting in fake shock.

It was pathetic, you already could feel it. Your self restraint slipping away. Suddenly, posing yourself the question, would it be that bad if you entertained yourself with the idea of him just one more time? Just once?

“Right,” Jude practically sung, a laugh following suit as he downed the rest of his drink. “There’s no fun in that.”

All you could do was shrug at his words and give no answer because you agreed. This wasn’t fun, it was hard. It would be so much easier to let yourself take the usual reckless route. And why live life the hard way?

So, there, you chose easy, and when someone appeared to place a drink in Jude’s hand and capture a few minutes of his attention, you allowed the footballer to throw his arm over your shoulders; tugging you closer to his body. He didn’t want you slipping away into the crowd again.

You let yourself stay in his grasp, mindlessly swaying to the music and awaiting for him to finish shooting the shit. You should’ve taken this precious time to realise this was what you were meant to avoid. Take this precious time to duck out from his hold and busy yourself with someone else once more.

But instead you found yourself leaning into Jude; admiring the way his calloused yet gentle fingertips danced on your collarbone—oblivious to prying eyes and jealous gazes from those who were hoping to be in your place. His cologne was intoxicating, his touch was familiar and inviting and the way he was keeping you close while still paying you attention despite everyone trying to get their two cents in with him had your stomach flipping and fluttering.

“I really, really missed you,” Jude whispered; your head tilting aside invitingly. Contrast to your initial and intended behaviour. Regardless, the moment his lips met your skin, all rational plans were out the door with a relieved sigh.

“Good.” you answered back, knowing to not grow excited by such a confession. Not needing to say the words back because Jude already knew you missed him. You were always missing him—and he loved that.

Another kiss was pressed to your skin, and another.

“I mean it,” Jude mumbled, your eyes fluttering shut briefly at the feeling of his lips still peppering your skin. Heat spreading across your cheeks, which you later blamed on the temperature inside the venue.

You were glad you’d made your mind up, having come to the conclusion that one more night with him couldn’t be that bad. Your thought process was definitely influenced by your sexual desires rather than rationality or consideration for your aching, breaking heart. But it meant you weren’t dwelling on his words and picking them apart, instead focused on the way his hand was now resting on the side of your leg.

“Is there a bathroom near?” Your question was all Jude needed to hear as the pair of you were not so subtle as you weaved through the crowd.

His lips were on yours the moment you were in the bathroom, your back being pressed against the door to shut it—his fingers fiddling around to find the lock and the moment he heard it click, his hands were all over you.

It was messy, and rushed; adrenaline pumping between the pair of you much like the muffled music seeping through the door. Your hands were pawing at each other, his at your waist, then your hips, then your legs; touching what he could of you over the silk of your dress.

Your hands were gripping the back of Jude’s head, then running down his chest; attempting to pull him closer despite his body pressed tightly against yours. His hands then moved to grab yours, before lifting them up and over your head; pinning them to the door as his lips moved to your jaw, then to your neck.

“Jude,” you breathed in need. Your eyes shut as you attempted to push forward off the door, wanting to touch him in any way. Excitingly, you were no match for his strength.

He tutted and smacked his lips quietly, kissing at your skin with such intent that made you whimper.

“What do you want?” Jude’s question was almost a taunt while his knee was pushing between your thighs. Jude knew exactly what to do to have you squirming. It made you feel helpless, needy and desperate. Nonetheless, not one bit regretful or ashamed you found yourself here again.

“You—fuck—anything,” you breathed, hips rutting against his leg slightly; the action not unnoticed as a cocky smirk grew on Jude’s lips.

Your eyes poured into his, watching as he bathed the sight of you in. You were so flustered and worked up already, and he barely touched you.

“Yeah?” he hummed, releasing your hands now so he could cup your cheek, which made it hard for you to nod but you attempted to regardless.

“Want you to fuck me,” you elaborated; taking the chance to touch him, hand going straight to the huge bulge in his trousers. Jude gritted and hissed through his teeth with a curl of his eyebrows.

You two would often take your time. Jude liked to have you spread open for him, a few orgasms deeply thanks to his fingers or tongue first before fucking you sensually. Taking his time in kissing every inch of your body, exploring your mouth, kissing you and touching you all he could. He loved to memorise your body like a map.

However, the both of you had a sense of urgency tonight. Keen to feel him inside you, aware there were plenty of people awaiting the footballer; that the night had barely begun in the grand scheme of things. The fact you’d avoided him for so long. The fact you promised, but God, it’d been too long. Jude would struggle to draw this out the way he wanted to.

“Barely touched you, baby,” Jude pointed out with a smirk as if he was not feeling the same burning desire to be with you.

You normally would’ve paid more attention to the way your stomach flipped at the casual drop of the nickname, but his actions captured your attention before you could dwell too hard.

It was a relief as he moved you to the sink counter, pressing on your back to bend you over the surface. Behind you, your hands scrambled to grip on the counter as your eyes settled on him in the mirror. A position you’d only be in for him, and Jude knew that.

Spreading your legs was easy as you watched Jude, flipping the skirt of your dress up and merely pushing your panties aside; fingers swiping through your wetness, entering you once, then twice.

“Gotta make sure this isn’t a mistake, hm?” Jude’s inquiry was a taunt, quoting you, hands leaving your figure. He then unzipped his pants and freed his cock, leaving you to whimper and watch in the mirror.

Jude didn’t make the move to touch you, prolonging your torture; hips swaying slightly as you dwelled on his words. His big doe eyes were pouring into yours through the mirror and your cheeks only grew more hotter. His reminder that you had once claimed you didn’t want this anymore had you speechless, not suddenly rational.

“What changed your mind?” His hands moved to squeeze your ass, cock pressing against your entrance which left you with nothing but anticipation and emptiness. “Cause we finally won? Am I good enough for you now?”

You would’ve rolled your eyes if you weren’t in such a compromising position, his wicked grin enough to show his words were simply throw away comments, not an insight into his actual assumptions.

“Jude… please,” you whined, all you could muster. Your hips attempted to push back onto him but his hands on your ass held you directly in place; chest rising at the sight of you so needy for him. A sight he’d never, ever get sick of.

“Your words, not mine, babe,” Jude reminded you; tongue flicking over his bottom lip as he took in the sight of you momentarily, your laboured breathing and inability to keep still due to your need for him always something he loved to be witness to.

He was usually gentle with you at first, would warm you up; start off slow and build up to the pace that would have tears streaming down your pretty face. But he was insanely eager tonight, adrenaline still pumping madly through his veins. And by the way you were looking at him in the mirror told him you reciprocated.

“Gotta fuck some sense into you, yeah?” Jude’s question was matched with his hand tangling in your hair. He grasped a few strands before tugging you up harshly which made your back meet his chest and a gasp escaped you. “Yeah?” Jude repeated when you failed to answer.

You tried to nod quickly, hips pushing back once more to little success with the position he had you in. His lips were next to your ear now and the chuckle he let out had your thighs attempting to squeeze tightly together.

“Please! Please,” you whimpered; desperation growing pathetically quickly. It was almost pathetic, how he could shorten your vocabulary to pleas and curses in such little time.

Jude would like to say he was one of those men who could do this all night, but that would be a lie. He groaned audibly at your whimper; chest now pushed forward towards the mirror beautifully, still with a perfect view of your face.

He gave you no warning as he slid inside of you, your jaw going slack as he bottomed out; letting go of your hair and pushing your back down once more. Your hands flew to the counter again, moaning at the stretch while he groaned at the way your walls hugged him so, so tightly.

He didn’t give you the usual time to adjust, moving immediately and thrusting deeply inside of you, hands using your hips to meet his movements.

“Swear you’re fucking made for me,” Jude groaned as his head fell back, pounding into your tight cunt repetitively, your moans escaping each time as your face contorted in pleasure.

It was too good—he was too good. You weren’t sure how you could ever actually give this up.

You attempted to keep your moans hushed, although with the volume of the music you weren’t at much risk of being heard; which was good, because you were struggling to keep quiet. In fact, failing miserably! Your eyes rolled back when Jude didn’t fail to hit that spot inside of you repetitively, hands still gripping your hips tightly.

His grunts and groans were addictive, so much so you wanted to open your eyes and bask in the sight of him but the pleasure was too much to do so.

Jude, however, wouldn’t settle for such, hand tangling in your hair once more. He tugged once and pulled your head up slightly, with clear intentions behind his actions.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he cooed breathlessly, and you did as he said, being met with his ones through the mirror; a lazy smile gracing his features as you whimpered and gripped the counter tightly.

You never expect to get off so quickly from pure penetration, but you were. Suppose it was made easier with the sight of him and his hands gracing your skin, plus his filthy, loud mouth.

“So good,” you whined out; not that you needed to vocalise such a thing, it was already clear. But Jude loved your praise as much as you loved his. He hummed in agreement, squeezing your ass in appreciation.

Suddenly, his groans began to grow in frequency.

Jude was close, but in no way would he ever cum before you. His hand sneaking around your waist and dipping in between your thighs, finding your clit with ease. Jude’s fingers circled your clit expertly, dancing and sliding around like he knew you like the back of his hand. Because he did.

“Come for me baby, go on,” his words of encouragement were all you needed to hear as he continued to thrust in and out of you. You released on his cock virtually immediately at his demand. Your walls squeezed him so perfectly, Jude’s name so pretty coming from your lips—his own high cascading him as he came inside of you with a loud groan.

It was oddly satisfying, a quick release; a new experience for the pair of you. The both of you panting and coming down as he slid out of you.

Jude was gentle again, a contrast to before, as he turned you round and sat you on the counter. Your breaths were heavy as you observed him and his hands reaching up your thighs and tugging your underwear down your legs before shoving them in his pocket, only then pulling your dress down for you.

“Pervert,” you mocked with a teasing smile, Jude’s own one growing as he rolled his eyes—hands shifting to rest on your thighs.

“Collecting all the wins today,” he shrugged; a boyish chuckle escaping him as your face screwed up—his humour never lost on you as you pushed against his chest.

“I should smack you for that,” you taunted, failing to pretend to be disgusted as you grinned at him. Your entire body flushed and chest still rising and falling as you caught your breath, a small chuckle escaping you.

There were a few moments of silence as Jude adjusted himself, zipping his trousers back up and straightening out his shirt; your own hands moving to flatten your own hair.

“You gonna stay?” Jude’s question fell upon you with his intent gaze, eyes showing genuine interest. Your own eyebrows quirked in interest, unexpectedly. You'd assumed this was it for the night. Jude got his fix, you got yours.

“…Maybe,” you raised your shoulders slightly, not in a teasing way, but genuinely. You weren’t going to overstay your welcome. You were sure the casual party goers would be falling off the next couple of hours, the ones who just wanted to get a glimpse of the footballer.

You were assuming you fell into that category, not his inner circle.

“You should,” Jude hummed; and you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped you and the man almost frowned.

“You need to celebrate out there,” you hummed, patting his chest lightly with a small laugh.

His eye roll was one of sass, like you should’ve expected. What you didn’t expect was for him to insist on you staying.

“Yeah, I did already,” Jude retorted, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, his thumb moving absentmindedly against the warmth of your skin.

And maybe that was the problem. Because somehow, somewhere between every warning you’d given yourself and every promise you’d made, you’d ended up right back here.

Still close enough to him to forget why you were supposed to leave.

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