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UP THE PRICE (MY LADY)
michael b. jordan x wunmi m.
PART ONE
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cw: sexual content, spanking, jealous!michael
summary: a year after the unfortunate leak, rumors are still flooding around about who michael has locked down. to the public it’s still a mystery that they want to solve, and behind closed doors things are moving exactly how he wanted them to.
notes: i haven't updated in a while. so sorry y'all. i got a new job at the beginning of may and i've been trying to get used to this schedule. i've just been busy a lot more, but enjoy.
October 2026
Wunmi's house looked like a storm had completely wrecked it. Drawers were pulled open, clothes spread all over the place, shoes were kicked off in random directions, and couch cushions had been tossed aside. Even the kitchen had things out of place, which never happened.
Wunmi stood in the middle of the living room with her phone pressed between her ear and shoulder while she dug through yet another bag for what felt like the hundredth time.
“I don’t understand,” she muttered tightly. “I don’t lose things like this.”
On the other end, Michael was quiet for a second, listening to the sound of things shifting and falling in the background.
“Hey, slow down,” he said, calmer than she felt. "You’re tearing the whole place up.”
She let out a sharp exhale, dropping the bag onto the floor before moving to the next thing.
“I already did tear the whole place up,” she shot back, her accent heavily slipping through. “It’s gone, Michael. I’ve looked everywhere.”
He leaned back in his chair on set, phone pressed to his ear, eyes tracking the movement around him. He ignored the faint sound of someone calling for him to be ready in a few minutes.
“It’s not gone, you just misplaced it, baby,” he said steadily.
Wunmi laughed, but there was no humor in it. She yanked open a drawer, rifling through it quickly.
“The one time I take it off and it goes missing,” she said, her voice starting to crack.
Michael’s jaw tightened slightly at that.
“When did you take it off?”
She paused, thinking, her movements slowing for a second.
“The night I washed my hair. I didn’t want it slipping off or getting caught, so I put it—” She stopped, her brows pulling together. “I put it on the counter I think.”
Her hands moved faster again, more frantic now that she was second-guessing herself.
“Wunmi, stop moving for second,” he said firmly.
She didn’t.
“I can’t stop,” she snapped, moving into the living room and dropping to her knees to check under the couch again. “It’s not here.”
He exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to stay patient.
“Aye, listen to me,” he called. "It's fine we'll find it and if we don't—"
Her movements slowed just a little.
“I don’t want another one,” she cut in quickly, sitting back on her heels, her chest rising and falling. “You paid too much money for this one, Michael.”
He shook his head, a small frown forming.
“I don’t care about that.”
“Well, I do,” she said immediately, pushing herself up and started to pace. “And it’s not even just that. You—you really thought about it and took the time to pick it out.”
He rubbed his hand over his mouth, leaning forward slightly.
“And I’ll easily do it again,” he said.
She huffed under her breath, shaking her head like he just wasn’t getting it.
“That’s not the point,” she murmured.
On his end, someone tapped his shoulder lightly. He nodded without looking at them, waving them off for a second.
“Give me a minute.”
He turned his attention fully back to her.
“Alright, listen. You probably left it at my place,” he said.
Wunmi stopped pacing immediately.
“…No, I didn’t.”
“You might’ve,” he pressed. “Think about it. Last time you were here—”
“That was a week ago,” she cut in, frustration creeping back in. “And I didn’t take it off there.”
He paused, tilting his head slightly.
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” she said. “Why would I take it off there and not put it back on?”
He shrugged even though she couldn’t see it.
“I don’t know. You do a lot when you’re over here.”
That earned him a small, irritated huff.
“Michael,” she warned.
He let out a quiet breath, easing back a little.
“Alright, alright. All I’m saying is it’s somewhere. It didn’t just disappear.”
She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she turned slowly, looking over the mess of her home again. The reality of it hit her and her eyes started to burn.
“I don't like not having it on,” she admitted softly.
“Hey, don't do that,” Michael said gently.
She pressed her lips together, blinking a few times as she crouched down again, picking up a pillow just to check under it as if she hadn’t already done that ten times before.
“I just—” she started, her voice wobbling slightly. “You were so thoughtful with it. And now I’ve just lost it and you're being far too calm.”
“Because you're doing enough panicking for the both of us, baby. I'm not going to say it again but you didn't lose it, you just misplaced it." he said.
She didn’t argue, but she didn’t agree either.
“Michael—”
“I’m serious,” he cut in. “You don’t need to stress yourself out like this. It’s not worth it.”
She let out a long breath, some of the tension leaving her shoulders, but not all of it.
On his end, someone called out for him again. He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling.
“I gotta go,” he told her.
Wunmi nodded even though he couldn’t see it, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of a blanket.
“…Okay.”
He didn’t hang up right away.
“You good?” he asked.
She hesitated.
“…I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t fully believe that.
“Stop tearing your house up and take a break. I'll look for it when I get back. And if we can't find it then I'll get you another one,” he spoke lightly.
“Okay,” she said finally, even though it wasn’t fully okay.
“Alright,” he replied.
“…Be careful. I love you,” she added quietly.
“I love you too.”
The call ended and wunmi stood there in the middle of the mess. Her eyes drifted back down to her bare finger. It just felt so wrong.
She swallowed, pressing her lips together before letting out a slow breath. Her gaze moved around the room one more time, then she shook her head slightly, stepping over a pile of clothes as she moved toward the couch. She sank down into it, exhaustion finally catching up to her.
Wunmi sat there for a while, staring at nothing. Her mind tried to retrace every step she’d taken over the last few days. She pressed her lips together, then pushed herself up from the couch with a quiet exhale.
If she wasn’t going to find it right now, then she at least wasn’t going to keep living in the middle of a disaster. So she started with the living room. She picked things up and put them back into place. Every now and then her eyes would flick down to her hand out of habit, but each time it annoyed her.
She cleaned the kitchen next. Then moved to her bedroom. She was haflway through folding her thrown around clothes when her phone rang from somewhere behind her. She paused, listening for a second before turning and spotting it on the bed. She was able to that it was her good friend Danielle Brooks calling her.
Wunmi blinked, then walked over, picking it up and answering as she sat down on the edge of the mattress.
“Hello?”
“Wunmi!” Danielle’s voice came through bright and warm, full of energy. “Girl, where have you been?”
A small smile pulled at Wunmi’s mouth instantly.
“I’ve been around. You're the one that's been busy,” she said lightly, tucking one leg under herself.
“Okay, that’s fair,” Danielle laughed. “But still. I feel like I haven’t seen you seen you in forever.”
“Same,” Wunmi admitted, her voice softening just a little.
“So what you doing today?” Danielle asked.
Wunmi glanced around her half-clean room
“Nothing, really. Just at home,” she said.
“Perfect. That means you can come out to lunch with me,” Danielle replied immediately.
Wunmi huffed out a quiet laugh.
“You didn't even ask me!”
“Why would I? And I'm not taking no for an answer, so don't say it,” Danielle said.
Wunmi shook her head, smiling despite herself. “I wasn’t going to say no.”
“Good, because I already have the reservations made,” Danielle said. “So you're definitely coming?”
Wunmi hesitated for half a second, her thumb brushed lightly over her ring finger without thinking.
“I’ll come,” she said.
“I'll send you the address because I’m already on the way there, so don’t take forever.”
Wunmi laughed softly. “I won’t.”
“Alright, I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Okay.”
The call ended and Wunmi immediately got to work.
She stood in front of her closet for a minute, scanning her options before deciding on something simple. Once she was dressed, she moved to the mirror, smoothing her hands over her outfit, adjusting small things here and there.
Her gaze lifted to her reflection then dropped. Her bare hand came up slightly.
“…It’s fine,” she murmured to herself.
She reached for her shades, sliding them on before grabbing her purse. The sun hit her with a warmth as soon as she stepped outside. She locked her door, adjusted her bag on her shoulder, then headed to her car.
During the entire drive, Wunmi had the music on low playing softly in the background with er fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel.
Eventually she pulled up to the restauraunt. She parked, grabbed her purse, and stepped out, adjusting her shades slightly as she made her way inside. The place was lively but not overwhelming. Soft chatter filled the air, the clink of glasses and silverware blending into the background. She approached the host stand, offering a small smile.
“Hello.”
“Hi,” the hostess greeted warmly. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes. I believe it's under Danielle Brooks?”
The hostess nodded immediately, grabbing a menu. “Right this way.”
Wunmi followed her through the restaurant, weaving past tables and people until they reached the patio doors. Danielle sat at one of the tables, sunglasses perched on the top of her face, her posture relaxed as she scrolled through her phone. She looked up just in time, her expression breaking into a wide smile as she stood up.
“Wunmi!”
They closed the distance quickly, wrapping each other in a warm hug.
“Hey,” Wunmi laughed softly against her shoulder.
“Hey, stranger,” Danielle teased, squeezing her a little tighter before pulling back to look at her.
They both took a second, really taking each other in.
“It’s been too long,” Danielle said.
“It has,” Wunmi agreed.
Danielle shook her head, smiling. “You look good.”
“So do you,” Wunmi replied easily.
They both laughed, that easy, familiar energy settling right back into place like no time had passed at all.
“Come on,” Danielle said, gesturing toward the table as they sat back down.
Wunmi slid into her seat, setting her purse down beside her, her shades still on as she leaned back slightly.
Their server approached not too long after they sat down, a polite smile on her face as she glanced between them.
“Hi, ladies. Can I start you off with something to drink?”
Danielle didn’t even look at the menu.
“Yeah, I’ll do a margarita,” she said easily, handing it back.
The server nodded, then turned to Wunmi.
“And for you?”
Wunmi glanced down briefly, then back up. “I’ll have a French 75.”
“Perfect. I’ll be right back with those.”
They both murmured a quick thank you before the server stepped away. The second she was out of earshot, Danielle leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table.
“Okay, now talk to me. What's been going on with you?,” she said, eyes narrowing playfully.
Wunmi smiled, shaking her head a little as she settled back in her chair.
“Just work and life like always,” she said.
Danielle hummed like she halfway believed her, her gaze drifting casually as she listened. Her eyes dropped right to Wunmi’s hands that were resting on the table.
Wunmi didn’t even realize what Danielle was looking at until she felt her reach across the table.
Danielle grabbed her hand, lifting it, her face twisting in confusion.
“Wait, where's your ring?”
Wunmi’s stomach dropped. She let out a slow sigh, her shoulders sinking just a little.
“I lost it.”
Danielle’s head snapped up.
“Already?!” she gasped.
Wunmi let out another breath, this one heavier, her lips pressing together as she looked down at their hands.
“I’ve been looking for it for days, and I don't know where it is,” she admitted, sounding almost hurt.
“Oh, baby…” she murmured, still holding her hand.
“I turned my whole house upside down to look for it. I don't understand how I lost it…” she trailed off.
Danielle squeezed her hand gently.
“What did Michael say?”
Wunmi let out a small, humorless huff.
“He told me to calm down and we'd find it,” she said. “Or he’d just get me another one if we couldn’t.”
Danielle’s brows lifted slightly. “And you didn’t like that.”
“No,” Wunmi said immediately, shaking her head. “I don’t want another one.”
Danielle nodded slowly, understanding settling in her expression.
“Mm, I get it,” she said gently. “I lost mine before.”
Wunmi blinked, looking up at her.
“You did?”
“Mhm,” Danielle nodded. “Thought I was about to pass out when I realized it too. Tore my whole house up just like you.”
Wunmi let out a small breath, something easing in her chest just a little. “Did you find it?”
Danielle smiled. “I did. It was in the most random place too. You're gonna find it, so don't stress yourself out too much.”
Right then, their server returned with their drinks, carefully placing them down in front of them.
“Margarita for you, and a French 75 for you ,” she said, setting Wunmi’s glass down gently. “Are you ladies ready to order?”
Danielle picked up her drink, taking a quick sip before nodding.
“Yes please."
They both grabbed their menus again, scanning over them briefly as they placed their orders. Danielle confidently went first, while Wunmi took a second longer. The server nodded, jotting everything down. Once she walked away again, Danielle leaned back in her chair, lifting her glass slightly.
They clinked their glasses together and fell right back into conversation. They talked about everything. From work to people to random stories. Danielle filled her in on things she had missed, little industry gossip here and there that made Wunmi laugh and shake her head. Wunmi shared her own updates of things she hadn’t realized she needed to talk about until she was saying them out loud.
Time moved quickly and they hardly even noticed. Their food came and went, plates slowly clearing as they kept talking.
Danielle tilted her head slightly, a knowing look on her face.
“So,” she started, dragging the word out just a little. “How’s wedding planning going?”
Wunmi let out a soft laugh immediately, shaking her head as she set her fork down.
"It’s…a lot.”
“I know it is,” Danielle grinned.
“It’s not even the planning itself, it's the timing,” Wunmi continued.
She reached for her glass, taking a small sip before continuing.
“Michael’s been filming, so everything has to work around his schedule. And when he does have time, it’s like we have to squeeze in ten different things at once. It’s just a lot of back and forth. All of the calls and meetings. where we have to make decisions so quick because we don't know when the next free window is,” Wunmi said.
“So do y’all have a date yet?”
Wunmi picked up her glass and took a small sip.
“Not officially, but we've been looking at spring time or maybe early summer,” she said. “But we’ve been looking at spring. Maybe early summer. I really want May, but that's only if everything lines up properly.”
Danielle raised a brow. “Oh, that's soon soon.”
Wunmi gave a small nod, setting her glass back down. her fingers brushed along the stem of her glass. All of it felt too real.
Wunmi smiled faintly, her fingers brushing along the stem of her glass. The idea of it felt real when she said it out loud like that.
Danielle studied her for a second, then asked, “Are y’all planning to go public before then?”
Wunmi shrugged, her expression easy.
“I don’t really care about that right now. It's not at the top of my list,” she said. “Michael said he’d rather wait until after we get married.”
Danielle hummed, like she was considering that, then a small smirk crept onto her face.
“Mm. Maybe he’s just trying to get his last little bit of fun in ebfore everybody really backs off,” she said casually.
Wunmi didn’t even hesitate to say, “I’m not worried about that.”
“Not even a little bit?”
Wunmi shook her head, leaning back into her seat.
“He's already learned his lesson,” she said simply.
That made Danielle laugh.
“Okay, I hear you,” she said, holding her hands up.
Wunmi just gave a small unbothered smile.
They stayed for a little longer just talking. Eventually their plates were cleared and their dreams were long finisehed.
Danielle glanced around, then back at Wunmi.
“You ready?”
Wunmi nodded. “Yeah.”
Danielle lifted her hand slightly, catching their server’s attention as she passed by.
“Whenever you get a chance, can we get the check?”
The server nodded with a polite smile.
“Of course.”
She disappeared for a moment, and Wunmi reached for her purse. It didn't take long for the server to come back. She didn't set anything on the table. Instead she gave the two women a careful look.
“Actually, your check has already been taken care of,” she said.
Wunmi frowned slightly. “By who?”
The server gave a small, knowing smile, then subtly angled her head toward the inside of the restaurant.
“The gentleman over there.”
Both Wunmi and Danielle turned, their gazes following the direction she’d indicated.
Inside, a small group of men sat at a table not too far from the patio doors. It took a second to even figure out which one she meant until they watched as one of the men leaned back slightly, his attention already on them.
His face wasn’t fully clear from where they were. The lighting inside hit at an angle, shadowing part of it, and he had on a hat that didn’t help. Wunmi narrowed her eyes just a little, trying to place him.
They both turned back toward the server.
“Well…tell him thank you,” Danielle said, still sounding unsure.
“Of course,” the server replied before she walked away.
Wunmi and Danielle exchanged a look. Then they both glanced back toward the table, but the moment had already shifted. The man wasn’t as clearly visible anymore, someone else moving in front of him briefly, the angle changing just enough to make it harder to get a good look.
Danielle leaned closer.
“Do you know him?”
“I don’t—” Wunmi started, then stopped, her eyes narrowing again slightly. “I mean, I can’t see him properly.”
They sat there for another moment, trying to piece it together, but neither of them could land on anything. And then the patio door opened. The man from inside stepped out into the sunlight, moving with an easy confidence. As he got closer, the shadows fell away from his face and Wunmi's breath caught.
Her eyes widened almost immediately in recognition. She quickly turned her head toward Danielle, surprise flickering across her face.
“What? Who is that?” Danielle asked under her breath.
Wunmi didn’t answer. She just looked back at the man as he closed the distance to their table.
“Ladies,” he greeted smoothly as he reached the table.
Danielle straightened slightly, already smiling out of politeness.
“Hi,” she said. “Thank you for paying for us. You didn’t have to do that.”
He waved it off with a small shrug.
“It’s nothing. I figured I'd use it as an excuse to come say hello. Hope you don't mind,” he said.
Danielle glanced at Wunmi briefly before looking back at him.
“No, not at all. That was relaly nice of you,” she said.
Wunmi hadn’t said a word. She kept her posture composed, but her gaze had shifted off to the side for a moment, like she needed a second to collect herself before fully engaging. Because standing in front of her was someone she hadn't seen in literal years. And wasn't expecting to see again.
Tyree Lawson had been someone she had been seeing before Michael even came into the picture. They hadn’t ended badly. They just ended. The distance, timing, and their careers pulled them in opposite directions. He got traded, she picked up a new acting job, and their lives moved on.
But she remembered him. And judging by the way he was looking at her now, he remembered her just as well.
His attention shifted fully to her, a slow smile pulling at his mouth.
“Hi.”
Wunmi cleared her throat softly, finally looking at him.
“Hello.”
The formality of it made his brows lift immediately. A small, amused crease formed between them as he tilted his head.
“Why you acting like you don’t know me?”
Danielle’s eyes flicked between them instantly.
Wunmi exhaled quietly, then extended her hand out.
“Hi,” she said a little less stiff.
He reached out and took it, his grip warm. His thumb brushed lightly across the back of her hand.
“How you been?” he asked.
Wunmi gave him a sharp look and he caught the meaning of it immediately. He smirked.
“I’ve been fine,” she said while pulling her hand back. “Very busy, but fine.”
“I see that. You been everywhere lately,” he nodded, leaning back slightly so he could take her in properly. “I didn’t get to tell you before, but I saw Sinners.”
Wunmi’s expression shifted just a little.
“And?” she asked.
“I liked it a lot. You did your thing in that,” he said. "I'm proud of you."
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I appreciate that.”
There was a brief pause before she shifted the focus.
“What are you doing out here? Didn't the season start?” she asked.
He nodded once. “Yeah, it did. I’ve just got some business to handle out here before I head back.”
Wunmi’s brows lifted slightly. “What business?”
“I started a winery.” A small smile tugged at his mouth.
“Congratulations. That's big,” her tone was more warm and animated now.
“Thank you. The grand opening's coming up soon,” he paused. "You should come."
Wunmi looked at him, and for a split second she let whatever was in the air sink into her. She became a little too soft and a little too open.
“I would have to see, but I think it should be fine,” she said.
Danielle sat back in her chair, watching the exchange unfold with quiet interest. Her gaze moved between them. It wasn’t hard to read the situation. There was clearly history there and it hadn't fully gone away.
He was satisfied with that answer.
“I’ll send you the details.”
“Okay,” Wunmi said.
There was another small pause before he glanced between them, stepping back just slightly.
“I won’t hold you any longer,” he added. “Just wanted to say hello.”
Wunmi nodded, pushing her chair back as she stood.
“Yeah, of course.”
She stepped around the table, closing the small distance between them. And they hugged.
This time their contact wasn't awkward. In fact it was easy and familiar. His arms wrapped around her firmly, pulling her in. They slid a little lower than they probably should have.
Wunmi inhaled softly at the contact, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. He’d always been built strong and solid. Her hands rested against him briefly, her fingers pressing lightly against his back. She let out a quiet hum without meaning to.
He dipped his head slightly, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before pulling back, his hands lingering at her waist for just a second longer.
“Good seeing you,” he murmured.
“You too,” she replied.
He gave Danielle a quick nod before turning and heading back inside.
Nobody noticed the the camera lens across the street taking pictures of them.
Wunmi sat back down, adjusting her bag at her side, and Danielle was staring at her hard. Wunmi didn’t meet her eyes right away. She just reached for her shades instead and slid them back up.
“What?” she casually asked.
Danielle leaned back, crossing her arms loosely.
“You might not be worried about Michael with other women, but he should probably be a little worried about you,” she said pointedly.
Wunmi let out a quiet hum, not denying it, but not feeding into it either. She grabbed her purse, standing up.
“You ready?” she asked simply.
Danielle stared at her for a second longer, then shook her head with a small laugh as she stood too.
“Yeah, I'm ready,” she said.
A few days had passed, and the ring still hadn’t turned up.
Wunmi had stopped tearing her house apart, but the absence hadn’t gotten any easier. If anything, it got worse. Every time she reached for things or rested her hand on her lap she was reminded of it not being there.
She was leisurely stretched out across her couch when Michael called, one leg tucked under her, and her sketchbook open beside her with loose pages scattered around it.
“Hey,” she answered, tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder as she absentmindedly flipped through one of the pages.
“Hey baby,” Michael’s voice came through low and tired. “You find it yet?”
She let out a small sigh. “…No.”
There was a brief pause on his end.
“It's fine.”
Wunmi frowned slightly, her fingers coming up to rub over her bare ring finger.
“It doesn’t feel fine,” she muttered. “My finger feels weird without it.”
That earned a quiet exhale from him, something close to a soft chuckle.
“You'll be okay. It's not permanent,” he said.
She hummed under breath, shifting a little on the couch.
“So how are you feeling about everything?” sheasked while glancing down at her sketchbook.
“About what?” he asked.
“The wedding,” she said.
There was a small pause.
“I’m good,” he answered. “Why? You not?”
“I am,” she said quickly. “It's just that there’s a lot to keep up with.”
Her hand moved across the page, tracing over one of the rough designs she’d started.
“And don’t forget we have that meeting next week with the planner coming up,” she added.
“Yeah, I remember,” he said.
She sat up a bit to reach for a pencil.
“I’ve been trying to get a head start on my dress too,” she continued. “I started sketching some ideas, but I don't know how I feel about any of them.”
On the other end, Michael was half-listening when his phone buzzed. He pulled it away from his ear just enough to glance down at the notification to see that it was a text from his publicist.
How do you want to handle this?
A twitter link followed.
His brows pulled together as he tapped it. The page loaded and his eyes instantly went to the caption.
Academy nominee Wunmi Mosaku and Dallas Cowboys defensive lineman Tyree Lawson seen pretty close at lunch.
Michael blinked once. Then he looked down at the photos. There were multiple pictures of Wunmi and Tyree hugging. His arms wrapped low around her waist and his cheek pressed against hers. There was even a picture where his lips were pressed against her cheek.
Michael was utterly confused and tense all at once.
“Aye, what is this?”
His voice cut her off mid-sentence.
“What are you talking about?”
Instead of answering, he sent the link to her. And at the exact same time, her phone buzzed against her ear. She pulled it away to see that it was a text from her own publicist.
We need to get in front of this.
Her stomach dropped. And as soon as the tweet loaded she felt her whole breath evaporate.
“Oh my God.”
Her eyes widened as she scrolled through the photos, her chest tightening.
On the other end, Michael said nothing he just waited. His silence made her pulse stutter.
“Okay, wait. When I went out with Danielle the other day someone paid for our meal. It was him,” she said quickly. "Then he came over to our table."
“Y’all look pretty close.”
The way he said it was too controlled.
Wunmi exhaled, already feeling that dangerous shift in him.
“Do you remember the guy I told you about that came before you?” she asked.
There was a beat. Then Michael hummed.
She swallowed. “That’s him.”
He remembered the conversation and the way she described how serious it could've been and how much she liked him before things fell apart. And now he was looking at pictures of that same man with his hands on her like that.
“So then what,” Michael said slowly.
Wunmi shifted on the couch, her fingers tightening slightly around her phone.
“It wasn’t like that, baby,” she said. “He just paid for our food and came to say hi. That’s it.”
Michael let out a quiet breath through his nose.
“That don’t look like just saying hi.”
Wunmi frowned, her chest tightening.
“I didn’t know what to do. It caught me off guard,” she said.
He shook his head, even though she couldn’t see it.
“You didn’t know what to do?” he echoed.
She heard the edge in his voice.
“I mean—no,” she said, her tone softening. “I wasn’t expecting to see him. And he just came up—”
“And you hugging him like that?” Michael cut in.
Her lips parted, then pressed together again.
“He did all of that,” she said, quieter now.
“That don’t change what it look like.”
Wunmi exhaled, her shoulders sinking slightly.
“It wasn’t anything. You're making it more than it was,” she insisted.
Michael didn’t respond right away because then he realized something that made this all that much worse.
“And you ain’t have your ring on. Did you at least tell him you were engaged?”
Wunmi froze. She didn't answer right away which made Michael grunt in frustration.
"Oluwunmi…"
“…No,” she admitted softly. Her voice had dropped to a whisper.
Michael let out another low, frustrated grunt, dragging a hand down his face.
“Aight,” he said. "It's cool."
Wunmi sat up straight.
“It’s not—Michael, listen—”
“I said it’s cool,” he repeated.
But it didn’t sound like it was at all.
“I’ll see you later.”
Her brows pulled together immediately. And she went to ask him what he meant by that, but the line had already gone dead. She pulled the phone away from her ear, staring at the screen for a second, confusion settling in just as fast as the panic. He wasn’t supposed to be back for another two days. So really what did he mean?
The rest of the day blurred together.
Her phone stayed in her hand. If she wasn’t on a call, she was answering a text. If she wasn’t answering a text, she was reading something she wished she hadn’t.
Her publicist called her once. Then again. Then a third time, looping her into another call but this time with Michael’s publicist.
Wunmi pressed her lips together, pacing slowly through her living room as she listened, her free hand resting against her forehead.
“It wasn’t like that,” she said for what felt like the tenth time. “He came up to us and I didn’t even know he was there until—”
“We understand that, but perception matters far more than intent right now,” her publicist cut in gently.
Wunmi closed her eyes as she took that statement in because of course it did.
They talked through options of what to do. If she wanted to make a statement and the timing of it, or if she would want to stay silent. By the time that call ended, her head was pounding. And of course, it didn’t stop there.
Danielle called her as well.
“Girl, are you okay?” she asked immediately.
“I’m fine,” Wunmi said, even though she wasn’t.
Danielle sighed. “I didn’t even notice anybody out there taking pictures like that.”
“Me either,” Wunmi muttered, dropping down onto her couch again.
“You talked to Michael?”
“I did and let's just say it didn't go too well. He hung up on me.”
“Okay, well, that's not ideal,” she said slowly.
Wunmi huffed a small, humorless breath. “No, it’s not.”
After that the calls just kept coming. From close friends to family. And they were all asking questions that she didn't really feel like answering. The only person who hadn't was Michael. And not for lack of trying on her part either.
Every time she tried to call him, it went unanswered. Every text was stuck on delivered. She even checked his location at one point, but it was off.
When evening came, her energy was completely drained.
She sat curled up on her couch, her phone resting in her lap as she stared at the screen. The tweet was still circulating, but with more comments and opinions. More people were inserting themselves into something they didn’t understand.
Her thumb hovered over Michael’s name for the fiftieth time that day. She still had nothing from him. Her chest tightened, and she swallowed hard, blinking a few times as that familiar pressure started building behind her eyes. All of this was getting to her.
She slowly moved through her nighttime routine. The house fell still the moment she turned the lights off ready to curl up and hide from the world.
She grabbed her phone one last time, glancing at it, and still nothing. Wunmi let out a quiet breath and set it down on the table. She had started to head to her bedroom when there was a knock on her door.
It was far too late for anyone to just be showing up. So she stood still for second to listen. But then another louder and more insistent knock came.
Her heart picked up slightly as she walked toward the door with cautious steps.
“Who is it?” she called out.
No verbal answer, only another knock.
She hesitated for half a second before unlocking the door and pulling it open. And her breath caught when she saw Michael standing there with a hood pulled over his head and hands tucked into his pockets.
“Michael—” she gasped in relief. “Baby, I am so—”
“Come on,” he cut in firmly. He left no room for disagreeament.
When she didn't move, Michael stared at her harder.
“Let's go,” he repeated, stepping slightly to the side and holding the door open wider.
Her breath hitched. It was something about the look in her eye that made her really not want to argue with him. She simply turned and went to grab her phone and purse off of the table. She walked past him, his presence heavy as she went by.
He stepped out right after her, pulling the door shut and locking it without a word. Wunmi looked back slightly to watch him. He slipped by her to lead the way.
Once he got to the car, Michael pulled the passenger door open for her to get into. She climbed in with her heart beating faster than normal. The door shut and a second later, he was in the driver’s seat, starting the engine.
The silence inside the car was thick during the drive.
Wunmi glanced at him. His hands were tight on the wheel and eyes forward. She opened her mouth then closed it. Whatever she was about to say didn’t feel like it would go right, so she stayed quiet.
The drive only lasted about fifteen minutes, but it felt much longer.
As soon as they pulled into his driveway, he was out of the car almost immediately, coming around to her side and opening her door before she could even reach for it.
She stepped out, watching him carefully. He led the way inside, unlocking the front door and holding it open for her. She stepped into the house, instantly being met with a comfortable familiarity. He closed the door behind them, locking it again before moving past her.
“Where were you when you took it off?” he asked roughly.
Wunmi blinked, trying to keep up.
“I was washing my hair, but that was back at my—”
She could hardly answer before he turned and headed straight for the stairs. Wunmi followed quickly behind him.
“Michael—” She called for him as they swiftly moved up the stairs.
She knew she hadn’t taken her ring off here, so she didn’t argue. At this point, she didn’t have the energy to push back on anything. Not after the day she’d had. So she just followed him into the bathroom and watched him as he immediately got to work.
He moved around the space like a man on a mission, opening drawers, shifting bottles, checking along the edges of the counter and behind things that hadn’t been touched in days. His movements were completely focused yet annoyed.
Wunmi stood in the doorway for a second before stepping in, her arms folding loosely over her chest as she watched him.
“Michael…” she started softly.
He didn’t even look at her. Instead, he crouched down instead, checking along the base of the cabinets, his fingers running along the small spaces.
Wunmi swallowed. Then slowly, she moved further in, kneeling down on the opposite side, her movements much more hesitant. She checked places she knew didn’t make sense. Behind containers and inside small trays and corners that didn’t hold anything. She wasn’t really expecting to find it, but she helped anyway.
The only sounds in the room were the soft shifting of items and Michael’s quiet, frustrated exhales every few minutes. He was getting irritated and she could not only hear it but see it as well. His shoulders were tight and his jaw flexed every time he searched and came up empty-handed.
Enough time passed for the silence between them to stretch and fill the room.
Michael was crouched low near the side of the counter, his fingers reaching into a narrow gap between the cabinet and the wall. His face was scrunched together when he pulled his hand back. And there it was in his fingers. The ring.
Wunmi let out a relieved exhale, “Oh thank God.”
Michael stood up, holding it between his fingers as he wiped it off against the side of his shirt, inspecting it briefly. Then he looked at her.
“Come here.” His voice was steady.
Wunmi carefully pushed herself up and walked over to him. He held his hand out. She reached for it, her fingers slipping into his automatically. He lifted the ring slightly between them, his gaze flicking from it to her.
“You better not lose it again.”
Wunmi’s lips parted slightly, and she nodded, her voice soft, “I won’t.”
He slid it back onto her finger, the cool metal settling into place.
Wunmi exhaled shakily, her shoulders dropping just a little as she looked down at it. Relief flooded her instantly.
Michael’s expression softened as he took her hand again, bringing it up and pressing a kiss to it. Then he stepped closer and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into him. He pushed his lips onto hers and she melted into the kiss almost immediately. Her hands came up to rest agaisnt his chest before sliding up around his neck.
The tension from earlier simmered.
She pulled back just a little, her forehead brushing against his as she looked at him.
“I’m sorry for not really telling you,” she said softly.
“It’s alright. I get it,” he said after a second. “I guess this is my payback.”
Wunmi frowned faintly.
“Payback? For what?”
He looked at her, something protective settling back into his expression.
“I don’t like nobody thinking they can come up and be that comfortable with you,” he said. “Especially not somebody you had something with.”
Her breath caught slightly.
“I didn’t—”
“I know. But I'm saying,” he said firmly. "I'm protective over what's mine."
His hand pressed lightly against her waist.
“And I don’t want you going out without your ring so we don't have this problem again,” he added.
Wunmi nodded slowly, her fingers tightening slightly against him.
“Okay.”
He leaned in again, kissing her slower this time.
Her arms wrapped around him fully now, holding him close as she lifted her hand slightly behind his head. The ring caught the light. She smiled softly against his lips.
“I really did miss it,” she murmured.
Michael let out a quiet breath against her skin, his lips trailing from her jaw down to her neck, pressing a few soft kisses there.
Her eyes fluttered closed, her grip tightening just a little. After a moment, she pulled back slightly, catching her breath.
“What are you doing back already? I thought you weren't coming back for two more days,” she asked.
Michael looked at her for a second, then shrugged lightly.
“I had to come handle my business.”
Wunmi bit her lip, her gaze dropping for a second.
“I really am sorry, Michael,” she said again.
He shook his head, stepping back just enough to look at her fully.
“It’s fine,” he said. “I’m tired.”
He moved past her, already pulling his hoodie off as he headed toward the bedroom.
Wunmi followed, watching him as he stripped down to his boxers.
They both slipped into bed without much more conversation. Wunmi settled in beside him, her hand resting against his chest, her thumb brushing lightly over the ring.
December 2026
Michael had finally wrapped filming for Miami Vice, which meant he was home more, but somehow, that hadn’t made life any less hectic. Now they had wedding stress and awards and press season.
Wunmi had already picked up several nominations. Her name was floating in conversations again. All of the hype was starting to stack on top of everything else.
The wedding planning had been intense. They officially had their date, the venue was picked, and invitations had been sent. That should've made things easier, but it didn't.
Now it was all about the details. They still had to lock a lot of things in while coordinating their schedules around two careers that clearly weren't slowing down. It was a lot.
And Michael had been on her more than usual. He was always touching her or near her. Especially after the whole Tyree thing. Even though they had moved past it, something about it had stuck with him.
They were on the couch with the TV playing something neither of them was fully paying attention to.
Wunmi sat sideways, her legs draped across Michael’s lap and her back resting against the arm of the couch. Her phone was in her hand, thumbs moving as she typed.
Michael’s hand rested on her calf, absentmindedly sliding down to her ankle before coming back up again. His other hand lifted her foot slightly, thumb pressing into the arch, working it gently.
Wunmi exhaled softly at the pressure, not even looking up from her phone.
“Mm,” she hummed.
Michael glanced at her.
“Who you texting?”
“I'm just updating the bridesmaids,” she said while typing.
“About what?”
“The dates that we agreed on for our trips. And the fittings."
Michael shook his head slightly, a quiet breath leaving him.
“This is still so crazy to me,” he muttered.
Wunmi glanced at him briefly, a small smile pulling at her lips.
“What is?”
“The fact that we're getting married.”
“I’m excited,” Wunmi's smile softened.
Michael smiled back at her, then went back to rubbing her foot.
She returned her attention to her phone. And just then a new text came in from an unknown number. Her brows pulled together in confusion as she opened it.
The first message was a picture of an invitation. Then there was a text right under it.
Can’t wait to see you.
Wunmi was utterly confused, until she scrolled up slightly, looked at the number again, then back at the image. That was when it all clicked.
“Oh.”
Michael’s hand paused slightly against her foot.
“What?”
Wunmi’s lips pressed together as she read it again.
“I just got an invitation,” she said.
“To what?”
She hesitated for a second.
“Tyree’s winery opening.”
Michael’s hand stilled completely.
“No.”
It was an immediate rejection that took Wunmi aback.
“You didn’t even let me explain.”
“Didn't have to,” he said as he leaned back against the couch.
Wunmi let out a small breath, sitting up a little.
“He just sent it to me and I don't even have his number,” she added.
“I don’t care. You're not going,” Michael said. His hand dropped from her foot, resting on her leg instead, his fingers tapping once against her skin.
Wunmi frowned, “Baby—”
“You're not going,” he repeated.
She shifted, pulling one of her legs in so she could turn toward him more.
“But I kind of want to go.”
Michael’s eyes snapped to her. “Why?”
Wunmi blinked at his tone, then exhaled.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It just doesn't feel like a big deal. It's a grand opening, so we'll be in public. And it's not like I'm sneaking off somewhere with him.”
Michael stared at her completely unmoved.
“That’s not the point, baby.”
"Then what is the point?" Wunmi tilted her head slightly.
“I don’t trust him.”
Wunmi’s brows lifted slightly.
“It sounds like you don’t trust me?”
“That's not what I said. I trust you,” he said immediately.
“Then—”
“I don’t trust him,” he repeated, slower this time. “And I don’t like the idea of you going somewhere he invited you to like that.”
Wunmi sighed softly, her shoulders dropping a little.
“It’s not like I have feelings for him. Whatever was there is gone,” she said.
Michael’s gaze stayed on her.
“That doesn’t mean it’s gone for him. Especially after how them pictures looked. Now he's inviting you out. I don't like that,” he said.
“I’d be wearing my ring,” she said quietly.
Michael let out a short breath, shaking his head, “That don’t stop nothing if somebody don’t care.”
Wunmi studied him for a second.
“So what? I just don't go?” she asked softly.
“Not unless I’m there,” he said.
Wunmi leaned back against the couch again, thinking.
“I don’t even know if you can go. You might have press,” she said.
“Then you not going,” he replied without hesitation.
She let out a quiet huff, somewhere between frustration and understanding.
“Michael…”
He reached for her leg again, pulling it back across his lap, his hand sliding up her thigh before settling there.
“I’m serious. I'm not about to have a repeat of that,” he said.
Wunmi looked at him, really looked at him this time, and she saw the tension still in his body. So she decided to concede.
“Okay,” she said after a second.
Michael’s shoulders relaxed a bit, his thumb moving against her leg.
The following weekend came quicker than Wunmi was honestly ready for. Between wedding meetings, awards conversations, and Michael attached to her to her body every second, the days just blurred together. Yet she still found time to get ready for unplanned events.
Music was playing lowly from downstairs while Michael moved around the room getting dressed.
Wunmi sat at her vanity in their bedroom, one leg crossed over the other as she leaned closer to the mirror. She had gotten her hair done a few days ago. It was in soft, full curls that fell around her shoulders. Her makeup was simple, especially since she didn't feel like going through her glam team.
She dabbed lightly beneath one eye when she heard Michael’s footsteps getting closer. A second later, he appeared in the mirror behind her with a hoodie on and cologne loud. He glanced at her reflection immediately.
“I’m about to head out,” he said.
Wunmi hummed softly. “Okay.”
But then his eyes narrowed, because she was clearly getting ready too.
“Where you going?”
Wunmi kept her expression neutral as she reached for her gloss.
“Out.”
Michael leaned one shoulder against the doorway, "Out where?"
"Just out," she shrugged.
His eyes stayed on her through the mirror for another second longer than necessary. He was clearly suspicious and she could feel it. But after a moment, he pushed off the doorway and walked over behind her instead. His hands settled warmly onto her shoulders, thumbs pressing lightly into the muscles there.
Wunmi relaxed under the touch.
“You look pretty,” he murmured.
A small smile pulled at her lips, “Thank you.”
His hands slid down slowly before he leaned down toward her face.
“Wait—” she laughed softly, turning her head slightly. “You’re gonna mess up my lip gloss.”
“I don’t care.”
Before she could protest again, his hand tilted her chin toward him and he kissed her anyway. It was only a soft quick one, but it was annoyingly affectionate.
When they pulled apart, Michael looked entirely too satisfied with himself. His hands lingered on her shoulders a second longer before he straightened back up.
“You got my card?”
“Why would I need your card?”
“Just in case.”
“I’m not going to need it.”
Michael reached over and picked up her purse from the vanity chair anyway, unzipping it and slipping the black card inside.
Wunmi rolled her eyes softly but didn’t argue.
He leaned down one more time, brushing his lips briefly against the top of her head this time.
“Text me when you get where you going.”
“Okay.”
He squeezed her shoulder once before finally heading out of the room.
Wunmi waited until she heard the front door downstairs close, then she exhaled. She walked over to her closet to get her dress for the evening. The dress was all-black, but it hugged her body absolutely perfectly.
She stepped into it carefully, pulling it up slowly, and adjusting it into place. Then she turned toward the mirror to look at herself. And honestly she looked a little too good.
She knew that Michael would hate to see her looking this good and going there. Which was exactly why she hadn't told him where she was going. She knew how her man would react, but she also knew that if she didn't go Tyree would only push harder. He was the kind of man that liked the chase. He only got more interested when someone pulled away.
Wunmi slipped on her heels, then sprayed perfume lightly along her neck and wrists. She grabbed her purse and headed downstairs.
When she made it outside the air was cooler than it had been earlier in the week. Her heels clicked softly against the driveway as she walked toward her car. Once inside, she checked herself quickly in the mirror, then started the engine.
The drive was long enough to give her time to think. Streetlights blurred past as her fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel.
Her thoughts swirled with a mix of Michael and Tyree. All she could really think about is if they got caught again just like how they got caught at the restaraunt. Her hand tightened on the wheel and her ring caught the passing lights immediately. She was just glad that she had it on this time.
The venue was on the other side of town, so she ran into some thick traffic. By the time she finally pulled up it was packed. A line of cars stretched down the block. Dozens of blacked-out vehicles rolled forward one after another as valet attendants moved quickly to get them in and out.
Wunmi slowed as she pulled up, immediately spotting the entrance ahead glowing warm against the night. The building itself was gorgeous with modern architecture, dark wood accents, and huge windows revealing pieces of the event happening inside.
Before she could even fully put the car in park, a valet attendant was already stepping forward and opening her door.
“Good evening, ma’am.”
Wunmi gave him a polite smile as she grabbed her purse and phone.
“Thank you.”
The cool evening air brushing against her skin as she stepped out carefully in her heels. A few heads turned as she straightened up fully, smoothing a hand lightly over her dress before handing over her keys.
“Enjoy your evening,” the valet said.
Wunmi nodded softly before making her way toward the entrance.
As soon as she entered into the venue, the more impressed she became because it was beautiful. The lighting was dim with warm gold tones bouncing off dark interiors and polished surfaces. Music floated through the air low enough for conversation, and the entire place smelled faintly of wood and wine.
Before she could get too lost in the beauty of her surroundings, she remembered something important that she was supposed to do. Wunmi reached into her purse and pulled her phone out knowing she needed to say something before he found out another way.
Her fingers moved quickly over the screen.
I know you’re going to be mad but I’m at Tyree’s event. I’m going to let him know that I’m engaged.
She stared at the message for a quick second, then turned her phone completely off. Beccause she knew the second that he saw it, he was going to call her and she honestly didn't feel like dealing with that right now.
She slipped the phone back into her purse and exhaled slowly, squaring her shoulders before continuing further inside.
A server approached her with a tray of wine glasses.
“Would you like one?”
Wunmi glanced down briefly before taking one carefully by the stem.
“Thank you.”
She took a small sip, eyes moving around the room. A few familiar faces caught her attention here and there. Some even greeted her once they noticed her.
She smiled politely through all of the exchanges, stopping for quick conversations here and there and accepting compliments. She was also being very aware of her surroundings, because if she wasn't things could very well become a problem.
She lifted the wine glass to her lips again, taking another small sip as she continued walking through the venue. She took her time moving through the different rooms.
Every section flowed into the next seamlessly. There were private tasting areas, lounge spaces, and long wooden tables filled with bottles and small plates. The lighting stayed dim and warm throughout the entire building, giving everything this intimate feel.
She found herself near one of the display areas where rows of massive wine barrels lined the wall with engraved plaques beneath them. Wunmi lifted her glass for another sip, leaning slightly to read one of the plaques when a hand slid around her waist. Her body instantly tensed up.
She turned quickly, only to come face to face with Tyree. And he was smiling down at her.
“I’m glad you made it,” he said.
His voice was smooth and easy over the music.
Wunmi recovered quickly, giving him a small smile back.
“This place is gorgeous,” she admitted honestly, glancing around again briefly. “Like really gorgeous.”
Tyree chuckled softly, “Appreciate it.”
She lifted her glass slightly, “And the wine’s good too.”
That made him grin wider.
“Alright now, don’t gas me too much.”
Wunmi laughed softly. But then she remembered his hand that was still resting against her waist. Her eyes flicked downward briefly before she subtly stepped sideways out of his hold. The movement was smooth enough not to make a scene, but still he noticed.
Tyree’s brows pulled together as his eyes moved over her slowly.
“You look real good tonight,” he said.
“Thank you.”
He stepped toward her even more. He lifted his arm like he was about to settle it around her waist once more, but Wunmi moved before he could.
“Watch yourself,” she said lightly.
Tyree paused. Confused amusement spread across his face.
“What? Why you acting like this?” he laughed.
Wunmi didn’t verbally answer. Instead, she lifted her left hand up between them. The ring caught the warm lighting, sparkling beautifully against her skin.
Tyree’s eyes dropped to it and he looked genuinely surprised. But his expression smoothed back over.
“When that happen?” he asked.
Wunmi took another sip of her wine before answering casually, “He proposed in August.”
His brows shot up again.
“August, huh?”
She nodded.
“You ain’t have that on at lunch.”
“I lost it and got in so much trouble because of what happened,” she admitted and pointed lightly at him with her glass. “I should’ve told you then that I was happily engaged. Maybe pictures of us wouldn't have ended up all over the internet,” she said.
He briefly glanced away like he was thinking. Then he looked back at her with a dangerously confident smirk on his face.
“I guess I gotta try harder to get you to come over to the best side," he said.
Irritation immediately flashed across Wunmi's face. It was so fast Tyree almost missed it.
“I’m already on the best side,” she said plainly. “And it can’t get any better than my man.”
Tyree sucked his teeth, unconvinced.
“Yeah okay,” he muttered.
Wunmi stared at him for another second before taking another sip from her glass.
Tyree looked at her ring one more time before nodding once.
“You enjoy yourself." he said. Then his mouth curved up. “I’ll be talking to you soon.”
Wunmi narrowed her eyes at that, but she didn’t respond. She just nodded once and watched him walk away through the crowd.
The second he disappeared, she exhaled quietly.
“…Jesus Christ.”
Her fingers tightened slightly around the stem of the glass. Now she understood exactly why Michael didn’t want her there. Tyree wasn’t outright disrespectful, but he also clearly wasn’t backing down just because she had a ring on.
After that exchange, she stayed there for about another hour or so. She mingled with people and sampled more wine. But the longer she stayed, the more aware she became of the pit forming in her stomach. Eventually she had to go home where she knew Michael was waiting for her.
She handed off her empty wine glass and headed toward the exit, she already knew she was in a whole lot of trouble.
After an entire drive of Wunmi's stomach twisting knots, she finally pulled into Michael's garage. When she parked the car she noticed that Michael's car wasn't there. She hadn't seen it out front either. Relief washed over her.
She grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car, her heels echoing softly through the garage before she headed inside.
The house was completely dark. A little too dark.
Wunmi paused just inside the doorway, listening carefully. A small breath escaped her. The tension in her shoulders loosened.
She locked the door behind her and kept the lights off, moving quietly through the house before heading upstairs. The bedroom was dark too. That eased her nerves even more because it meant he hadn't even stepped foot in the home.
She set her purse down carefully and headed toward the closet, ready to get out of the dress and wash the night off her.
The closet light was dim as she slipped her heels off first with a relieved sigh. Then her jewelry. Then her dress. She wrapped her robe tight around her body and tied it securely at the waist. Her hair fell softly around her shoulders as she pushed the closet door back open and stepped into the bedroom. She casually reached toward the wall and flipped the light on.
Her breath stopped.
Michael was sitting in the corner chair near the window. Legs spread, body leaned back, arms resting on the arm of the chair, and face blank. The light caught him good, and he was just watching her.
Wunmi physically jumped, her hand flying to her chest.
“Oh my God,” she gasped. “You scared me.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she stared at him.
There had been absolutely no sign he was home. His car wasn't around, he made no sound, there was absolutely nothing.
Michael didn’t answer. He just looked at her, giving her a completely unreadable look. His silence somehow made her even more nervous.
Wunmi swallowed hard, trying to recover.
“Hi,” she said softly, attempting a small smile as she bit lightly at her lip.
Still nothing.
The room suddenly felt very warm, very quiet.
Wunmi shifted her weight under his stare.
Slowly, Michael lifted two fingers and crooked them toward himself. He had no words for her, only the simple gesture.
Wunmi’s breath hitched and her stomach tightened, but she obeyed. Her bare feet slowly moved across the carpet until she stood directly in front of him between his spread legs.
Michael leaned back in the chair, his hands settling on her thighs, fingers gripping the thick flesh through the soft fabric of her robe.
“Anything you wanna say?” he finally asked calmly.
Wunmi swallowed. Her fingers twisted lightly together at her sides.
“I’d be lying if I said I was sorry,” she admitted quietly.
Michael’s face tightened and he gave a stiff nod.
The room stayed silent for another long second.
“Get on the bed.”
Wunmi’s eyes widened and her stomach dropped. She knew exactly what kind of mood he was in. And there had only been maybe three times where she had gotten herself in enough trouble to see this side of him.
Wunmi's pulse blared in her ears as she turned toward the bed. She climbed onto the mattress slowly, knees first, then hands, positioning herself on all fours with her back arched just enough to present herself to him.
Michael rose from the chair without a sound. His footsteps were heavy as he approached the bed. He placed one hand between her shoulder blades and pressed down firmly, forcing her upper body to lay flat against the cool sheets. Her cheek pressed into the fabric, arms stretching out in front of her.
"Stay down," he commanded, voice low.
A soft whimper escaped her lips, her body trembling under the weight of his palm. She was completely at his mercy.
"You're gonna count each one," Michael said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And I'm not telling you when it stops."
Wunmi braced herself, fingers curling into the sheets, muscles tensing as she waited for the first hit.
He gathered the hem of her robe and pushed it up over her lower back, exposing her completely. His fingers hooked into the thin straps of her panties next, tugging them up hard and wedging the fabric tight between her cheeks like a makeshift thong. The pull made her gasp, the material pinching her skin, leaving her bare and framed for him.
She had no idea what was going to happen. Her nerves were all over the place.
Then it came. A sharp smack landed on her left cheek. The hit stung like fire and jolted her entire body. It caught her so off guard that her mind blanked, and no words came out of her mouth.
Michael grunted disapprovingly. His hands clamped onto both large cheeks, gripping hard enough to make her wince.
"Count."
"One," she whispered shakily.
The next hit came down harder than the first, the force snapping her hips forward an inch across the bed.
"Two," she managed, sucking in a breath.
"Why'd you go when I told you not to?" he demanded, one hand kneading her flesh roughly.
Wunmi drew a shaky breath, her voice soft against the mattress. "I needed to. If I didn't he'd be all over me."
Michael's eyes narrowed as he processed her words. Without warning, he delivered two quick hits— one on each cheek—the slaps echoing through the room.
She whimpered, body jerking with the double sting, heat spreading fast.
"Three...four," she counted while clinging to the sheets.
"You're in so much trouble," Michael growled, his palm hovering for a beat before delivering the fifth smack, firmly across the center of her right cheek. The heat built, layering over the previous stings.
"Five," she counted, hips twitching involuntarily.
"And you're gonna make it up to Daddy," he added, his voice dropping as the sixth hit landed on the left cheek.
Another groan came from her and her thighs pressed together against the growing ache. "Six."
He didn't pause. The seventh hit was quick and the eighth followed just as quickly. Then the ninth and tenth were all rapid-fire, alternating cheeks. Each one made her skin tingle. The sensations twisted into a mix of pain and pleasure that had her toes curling and breath hitching.
She winced with the seventh, whimpered through the eighth, gasped on the ninth, and let out a shaky whine on the tenth. Her entire backside was throbbing and aching, but somehow that made it more intoxicating.
"You had enough?" Michael's hand rested on her warm skin, rubbing slow circles.
Wunmi nodded frantically, her cheek still pressed to the bed, tears at the corners of her eyes from the intensity.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, voice breaking softly.
He hummed a low, skeptical sound rumbling from his chest as he shook his head.
"Nah. I don't think you are yet." His fingers tightened on her hip. "Don't move."
Wunmi stayed where she was with her forehead pressed to the sheets and ass raised high as the door to the closet clicked shut behind him. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what he was grabbing. Her breath came in shallow pants and she squeezed her eyes shut.
Then she heard the low hum starting up from somewhere behind her.
Her eyes flew open and a whimper slipped out, "Michael..."
She felt the cool, buzzing head of the vibrator wand press directly against her clit through the wedged fabric of her panties. Her whole body jumped forward on the bed, a startled yelp escaping her as pleasure shot through her like lightning.
"Hold it," he ordered.
Wunmi reached back with one trembling hand, fingers wrapping around the handle. She held it lightly, the vibrations teased her. Still it was too much.
Without giving her a warning, Michael covered her hand with his and pressed down hard. The wand felt intense against her clit. A deep moan tore from her throat, hips pushed back involuntarily.
His free hand landed a hard smack on her already tender cheeks. He kept going, each sharp spank jiggling her body and mixing with the pleasure of the wand.
She moaned loudly, head dropping to the mattress. She could feel herself dripping wet, slickness coating her inner thighs from earlier and now. The wand hummed against her clit, every pulse matching perfectly with the hits of his palm on her ass.
Wunmi felt herself starting to reach that edge quickly. Her body tensed up, mouth dropping open in a silent gasp. Her free hand clutched the sheets in a death grip while her legs trembled. She clenched and pulsed around nothing.
Michael noticed it right away, his rhythm never faltering.
"You better not come," he warned her.
She shook her head, biting her lip hard to fight it. She knew he wanted her to give him the excuse for more punishment, but holding back felt impossible. The pressure was getting worse with every second.
Her body moved on it's own, and her hand pressed wand harder against her clit.Consistent needy moans fell from her lip as she started to grind against the vibrations. She could feel herself right there, she was so close.
Michale snatched the wand from her grip, the sudden absence making a frustrated sound fall from her lips.
"You don't get to come," he stated flatly, tossing it aside.
Wunmi whimpered as every nerve in her body was screaming for release.
Michael gave her two final smacks to each cheek. Then his palms rubbed slow, drawing a soft sigh from her. Then he grabbed her hips and yanked her back toward him, pulling until her lower body pressed against his.
Wunmi felt his straining through his pants, making her throb even more. She couldn't help but to rub against him in a silent plea to be filled.
"I'm not fucking you tonight," he said firmly as his hand cracked down once more on her ass. He stepped away, leaving her empty and wanting.
Wunmi whimpered, fully collapsing onto the bed. She shifted onto her side.
A while later, Michael slid into bed behind her. He held her close, draping one arm possessively over her waist.
For the next three days, Wunmi was denied orgasm after orgasm by Michael. Every time Tyree called or texted, it put her further into trouble.
The first morning, Michael had her on top of the kitchen counter, vibrator pressed against her clit. She was gasping, thighs shaking, and so close her vision blurred. That was until her phone lit up with a "good morning" text from Tyree. Michael instantly snatched the vibrator away, leaving her desperate whining.
One afternoon, after doing some errands for the wedding, Tyree called her as they were getting intside of the car. She ignored it, but Michael noticed.
He slid his hand between her legs, and pushed his fingers so deep into her. He curled them just right and stroked her so good. She rocked against his palm, moans filling the car as she worked her way up. Then he pulled away. He built her back up, only to deny her again. And again for a third time. Each denial left her more wrrecked than the last.
And after three days of torture, Michael finally decided she'd earned a reward.
They were in bed. Him sat up against the headboard, legs spread wide with kneeling between them. Her lips were wrapped around his thick length as she took him deep down her throat.
Michael groaned as his hand gripped the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair to guide her further down, hold there, then back up.
She moaned around him, the vibrations pulling more groans from him.
They were so lost in the moment. Her tongue eagerly swirled around him as she sucked him up. And his eyes couldn't move away from the beautiful sight in front of him. That was until her phone broke the moment by ringing so loud on the nightstand.
Almost instinctively, Wunmi tried to lift her head to check, but Michael's grip tightened. He pushed her head firmly back down onto his dick, keeping her mouth full.
He snatched the phone with his free hand, glancing at the screen. Tyree's name flashed across the screen. Instantly, Michael was annoyed. The ringing stopped only to start up again seconds later.
Wunmi took Michael's brief distraction as opportunity, so she slid him out of her mouth with a soft pop and peered at the screen. She was just as frustrated as her fiancé was and couldn't help but to release the most aggravated sound along with a quick roll of her eyes.
"Just decline it," she urged.
He met her eyes. "Nah. Talk to your little boyfriend."
Before she could protest, he swiped to answer and held the phone out to her.
Wunmi's eyes went wide, panic flickering as she stared at him, trying to understand the challenge in his eyes.
"Michael—" she started, but Tyree's voice cut through.
"Wunmi?"
Michael raised an eyebrow expectantly.
She grabbed the phone with shaky fingers, putting it on speaker.
"Hello?" she said timidly, heart pounding as she knelt between his legs.
Tyree's voice came through the phone, "Hey, gorgeous. What you doing?"
Wunmi shot a quick glance at Michael, biting her lip hard.
"Um...just laying in bed," she murmured.
"Cool. I, uh, just wanted to give you a call so we could talk. It's been a while," Tyree easily replied.
"Mhm, it has," she managed, her free hand fidgeted against Michael's thigh.
Tyree started talking about how the football season was going for him, but Michael took that as his chance. He practically manhandled her. His hands gripped her hips and spun her around to face the end of the bed. He shoved her body down so that her face was buried in the sheets and her ass was in the air.
She gasped at the sudden shift in positions.
"You okay?" Tyree asked.
"I'm fine…" Wunmi swallowed. Her voice shaky as she steadied herself. "
Michael gave her ass a light smack. Wunmi bit her lip hard to stifle the gasp.
He gripped her big, round cheeks in both hands, kneading the soft flesh, spreading her wide. One finger slowly trailed through her dripping wetness, parting her folds, and she let out a breathy sigh.
Tyree kept talking through the speaker, "…I really been thinking about a lot lately and I just gotta say…"
But Wunmi barely registered it. She could only focus on the man behind her and his heated touch. Michael's fingers had found her clit, circling it with teasing pressure, then dipped low to her soaked entrance, sliding a little inside before pulling back out.
She fought to stay quiet, body tensing up, but Tyree pressed on, obliviously.
"You still there? Tell me what you up to this weekend?" It was clear he was expecting a response.
Wunmi opened her mouth to answer Tyree's question, but Michael chose that exact moment to slide deep inside her, filling her completely in one smooth thrust. She clamped down around him, stunned to silence.
He pressed one hand firm between her shoulder blades, pinning her chest flush to the bed, and leaned forward until his lips brushed her ear.
"Answer him," he whispered sending shivers down her spine.
"Uh... n-nothing really," she managed to get out.
Michael gave her a few quick love taps to her inner thigh before pulling back up onto his knees. His gaze dropped to where their bodies joined, watching intently as he slid out slowly, then thrust back in deep.
A quiet, breathy moan escaped her lips. Wunmi moved the phone away from her mouth for a second, sucking in air.
Michael started with a few slow strokes to ease them both into the rhythm, letting her feel every thick inch stretching her. He built it gradually until his pace turned consistent, her ass bouncing softly against his pelvis.
Wunmi put the phone on mute just in time to release her moans. With each bounce a needy cry spilled out.
"You should come out this way soon. When are you free?" Tyree's voice came through the speaker.
She barely processed it. Her mind was wiped blank by Michael fucking her so good, hitting that spot over and over. Nothing existed but her man. All she could think about was the grip of his hands on her hips.
Wunmi took the phone off mute just long enough to gasp out, "I don't know when," before putting it right back on as another loud moan tore free.
"...we could hit this spot I know downtown, grab drinks, see where the night goes..."
Michael smacked her ass hard then, the hit echoing.
She blurted out, "Oh baby," followed by a deep, throaty moan that she couldn't hold back.
He kept one hand planted firm on her jiggling cheek to control the pace.
When he drove especially deep, she moaned out a shaky "Okay". Her free hand shot back, grabbing his forearm tight as he kept fucking her.
Michael ramped up the speed and depth, pounding into her harder, chasing that release for both of them.
Wunmi tried to take it all—she really did—arching back to meet him, but it really overwhelmed her.
"Okay, Michael, okay," she gasped as he went a little deeper than necessary, nailing that spot right next to her cervix.
"What you keep saying okay for?" He smacked her ass , growling, "Like, come on."
He pushed his hips forward, bouncing her roughly on him, urging her to move on her own. She did, but only just enough, rolling her hips back hesitantly.
"You want me to stop?" he demanded.
"No," she moaned out desperately. At this point she'd completely forgotten about the phone in her hand.
Just then Tyree's voice came through loud and clear. "...whoever that fiance of yours is ain't watching you right. Imma come get you for real."
Michael's face twisted up into a scowl, annoyance built up in him. He leaned down over her back, roughly thrusting in in deeper.
"Michael—Michael—fuck," Wunmi moaned his name over and over.
"Looks like Daddy's gonna have to put a baby in you so they know this pussy's mine," he growled against her ear.
"It's yours. I promise."
"Take it off mute so he can hear how good i'm fucking you," he ordered.
Her hand shook as she obeyed, pressing the button on the screen.
The second the phone came off mute, Michael picked up his thrusts. Driving into her so quick and rough it made her ass bounce loud off of his pelvis. The sound of her soaked pussy filled the room.
Wunmi moaned into the sheets, her cries muffled against the fabric, but Michael wasn't having it. He gripped her hair tight, yanking her head up until her back arched deeper.
"Who this pussy get wet for?" he demanded.
"You, Daddy," she gasped.
Tyree's voice came out sounding confused. "Wunmi? What the—?"
Both of them ignored him completely.
Michael smacked her ass again. Then snatched the phone from her weakened grip and held it so Tyree could hear every moan and every slick sound of her taking him.
"Tell him not to call you anymore," Michael said, pressing the phone right to her mouth.
She moaned through the words. "Don't call me anymore."
Michael hung up then tossed the phone across the bed to thud against the pillows.
"Good girl," Michael murmured, palm rubbing soothing circles over her tender ass. "You wanna come?"
"Yes, Daddy," she whimpered. Her body was already right there. She needed this.
"You did so good with your punishment," he praised, grinding against her walls.
Wunmi felt herself clenching hard as her stomach tightened. "Can I come? Please?"
"Yeah, come for me," one of his hands slid around to rub her clit.
She crumbled almost immediately. Her orgasm crashed through her. She cried out his name as her walls pulsed around him and she soaked the sheets.
Michael kept going, chasing his own release now, groans turning guttural as pleasure tightened in his gut.
"You gonna let me put a baby in you?" his voice was rough as he thrusted harder.
Wunmi moaned, nodding into the bed.
They'd had plenty of conversations about babies. They agreed to wait until at least after the wedding, but it was clear that tonight his possessiveness had him acting different. And she melted under it.
Michael thrusted a few more times before he finally released inside her. He held there, pushing deep, feeling her pulse around him. He pulled out slowly.
Wunmi collapsed forward, breathing heavy, chest heaving as aftershocks rippled through her.
"Don't go near that man again," he said firmly, hand stroking her back. "Block him."
Wunmi nodded weakly, turning her head to meet his eyes. "Okay, baby. I'm sorry."
Late January 2027
Now, into the new year, their lives were completely overtaken. Every day belonged to somebody else. There was barely any room left for themselves in between it all.
Michael had officially started press for The Thomas Crown Affair, and his schedule had exploded. Interviews, photoshoots, appearances, magazine covers. It felt endless. Most of it was alongside Adria Arjona, which only fueled certain online conversations even more.
Meanwhile, Wunmi was deep in awards season.
The Social Reckoning had become a big conversation piece of the year, and her performance had the people talking. Every week brought another event, another panel, and another rumor about if she would end up nominated again or not.
And through all of that, they were less than four months away from getting married. May was practically right around the corner.
Earlier in the month they had finally sat down with both of their publicists to figure out how exactly they were going to reveal the relationship publicly without it becoming a circus before the wedding. The final decision had been simple. Michael would handle most of it.
Strategically, it made the most sense.
Wunmi’s team wanted all attention during awards season to stay centered on her work, not her relationship. So Michael had agreed to slowly start opening the door publicly while still keeping things vague enough to maintain some control.
He actually preferred it that way. Mostly because he was tired of hiding her.
After over a year of rumors, especially after the leaked audio, Michael was exhausted from pretending. And since she was his fiancée now, he wanted to share that with the world.
Still timing mattered…a lot. Everything had to be controlled carefully. And unfortunately, control was the one thing their schedules weren’t allowing them to have right now.
Most days they weren’t even in the same city.
There had been recent stretches where they only saw each other through FaceTime screens and blurry airport selfies. Sometimes one of them was waking up while the other was heading to sleep.
It irritated both of them more than they admitted. Especially Michael. He had been so clingy with her, and now he barely even got the chance to breathe in her direction.
Their conversations had slowly become reduced to logistics. Things like wedding updates and travel plans. They hardly talked about things of substance. It wasn't intentional though. It was just all they had time for.
One night, Wunmi was sitting in her London hotel suite while Michael was back in New York finishing another round of press. She had kicked her heels off and was curled sideways across the bed, exhaustion written all over her face as she held her phone up during their FaceTime call.
Michael was sitting in the backseat of an SUV, chain sitting against a black thermal shirt, one hand rubbing tiredly over his jaw while traffic lights flashed outside the window behind him.
“You look tired,” Wunmi murmured softly.
Michael looked at her through the screen.
“I am tired.”
She smiled faintly, “Poor baby.”
“I’m serious,” he muttered. “I done answered the same damn questions all day. I’m over it. ‘How was it working together?’ ‘Did y’all have chemistry?’”
"Well, did you?" Wunmi grinned.
"Don't start," Michael gave her a flat look through the screen.
She giggled softly, resting her cheek against the pillow, “I was just asking.”
Michael shook his head, but his expression softened while looking at her. God, he missed her. He always had this thought during the day, along with the constant irritation that she wasn't there..
“When do I see you again?” he asked suddenly.
Wunmi sighed dramatically.
“Um…” She reached for her planner nearby. “I think…after the BAFTAS?” she started slowly, flipping through pages.
Michael stared at her.
“That’s not for another week, babe.”
“I know.”
“A whole week?”
Wunmi laughed softly at his expression.
“You’ll survive.”
Michael looked unconvinced.
“You say that now,” he said. “Then you gon’ start crying the longer we're apart.”
“I do not cry.”
“You absolutely do.”
Wunmi sucked her teeth softly, “Whatever.”
Michael smiled for the first time during the call, the tiredness easing slightly from his face.
The conversation naturally shifted to the wedding. And despite how exhausted they both were, those conversations kept them intertwined.
Everywhere Michael went there were cameras waiting for him. Going form film festival to awards gala to museum benefit to private dinners. Tonight wasn't any different.
The carpet outside the event was packed shoulder to shoulder with photographers and journalists.
Michael stepped out of the SUV with his black suit perfectly tailored to his body. Confidence radiated off of him without him even trying.
He adjusted the cuff of his jacket before looking up with a calm and controlled expression.
His publicist walked beside him briefly while fixing the front of his jacket.
“She approved it,” she murmured quietly.
Michael glanced at her.
“Yeah?”
She nodded.
His mouth twitched slightly.
“Aight,” he nodded.
He moved down the carpet, stopping for photos, greeting people, and shaking hands. As he approached the press line, he relaxed himself.
Interview after interview rolled by. They asked him the typical questions about directing, balancing acting and filmmaking. Michael answered each question like he had prepped for it.
Then he reached one platform in particular.
A Black woman stood there holding the microphone, smiling brightly as he approached.
“Michael B. Jordan!” she grinned. “You look good tonight.”
Michael laughed, “Thank you.”
“Everybody's talking about your film already. But what was it like stepping into directing mode again?” she started.
“It was challenging,” he admitted. “But I think I’m at a point now where I trust myself more creatively. I know how I wanna tell stories now. And honestly, I learned a lot from the last few years. Working with different directors, producing more, it changed how I look at filmmaking.”
The interviewer nodded along.
“And you can tell,” she said. “Especially after the year you had last year. Mr. Oscar winner. How has life changed since then? Because it feels like the world has not stopped talking about you.”
Michael laughed softly.
“It's definitely gotten more chaotic,” he admitted. “But I try to stay grounded and keep moving forward.”
The interviewer tilted her head slightly.
“So what does moving forward look like for you now? More directing? Less acting?”
Michael paused for a second.
“Well…” he started slowly, “where I’m at now in my life and career I'm focused on celebrating my wins. And I got some pretty big ones that I need to make room for.”
A tiny smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"As you should," The interviewer smiled.
“I wanna spend more time focused on my family. So there’s definitely a chance I slow down a little," he said honestly. "My fiancée and I have both been incredibly busy with all that's going on in our careers and now wedding planning. But I've been trying to figure out how to even get to the point of slowing down."
The interviewer looked stunned.
“Wow, um…when—”
Michael stepped back with the biggest smirk trying to break across his face.
“You have good one,” he laughed.
“Michael!”
He pointed at her playfully, “Appreciate you though.”
Then before she could ask another question, he walked off down the carpet looking satisfied with himself. He made his way inside, barely even slowing down as he reached for his phone that was in his pocket. There was only one person he wanted to talk to right now.
He tapped Wunmi’s contact immediately. The phone rang a few times before she answered.
“Hello?”
Her voice was thick with sleep.
Michael’s face melted.
“Hey baby.”
There was rustling on the other end followed by a small sleepy hum.
“What time is it?” she murmured.
Michael smiled to himself as he ducked into a quieter hallway away from the crowd.
He leaned back against the wall, listening to her breathing through the phone.
“I can’t wait for all this to be over,” she admitted sleepily.
Michael chuckled under his breath, “Me too.”
There was a quiet pause before Wunmi spoke again.
“Did you do it?”
Michael’s grin spread, “Yeah.”
He could practically hear her smiling through the phone even though she barely made a sound. Just a quiet little hum.
Michael shook his head fondly.
“That’s it?” he laughed quietly. “That’s all I get?”
“You woke me up,” she mumbled.
“You're supposed to be excited.”
“I am excited. I'm just sleepy, Mike,” she said.
Michael could picture her perfectly. She was probably curled up in a hotel robe, hair wrapped up, and half asleep with the phone pressed against her face. He missed her so much.
“You gon’ be at the honoring next week?” he asked after a moment.
There was a pause. Then Wunmi sighed.
“…Baby. It's next week with the BAFTAs and my team scheduled a bunch of press here,” she reminded him.
“Damn," He briefly closed his eyes. "So when will I see you again?”
“A week and a half maybe,” she said quietly.
Michael dragged a hand over his face dramatically.
“That's so long”
Wunmi laughed tiredly.
“You’ll survive.”
“That’s what you keep saying.”
“Because you will.”
Michael shook his head with a smile.
“Barely.”
There was another comfortable silence between them.
“Imma let you sleep.”
“Okay.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“And I miss you so much.”
Wunmi exhaled softly through the phone.
“I miss you too,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come.”
Michael’s expression softened even more.
“Don’t apologize. I’m just being needy.”
That earned another sleepy laugh from her.
“Very needy.”
“Mhm.”
“I still love you though.”
“You better.”
Wunmi smiled against her pillow.
“Goodnight, Michael.”
“Goodnight, baby.”
end notes: so this was actually a looottt longer, but because tumblr has a limit on how many blocks you can do, i have to break it up into more parts than i was planning. so the next update will be sooner than expected, it'll just be after my american dream update.
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taglist: @lilbitt @lizbehave @andtheniws @tonichildsdaughterduh @cinnamonsonnyangel @shamansha @caramelplug @bananajoeclone
@rolemodelshit @brownskincheyenne @mmbee675 @xeebop@adultinginheels @tlt731
cw: sexual content
summary: rumors have always spread about michael. he's endured comments on his dating preference, his latest fling of the week, and which costar he would date. groupies flock to him and celebrities make jokes about being with him. people see him as a sex symbol...the holy grail. but what nobody saw coming, especially after such a historic win, is a leak that only makes them want him more.
Michael's phone had been going off for hours, constantly buzzing against the nightstand until it dragged him out of sleep. His face scrunched in irritation, hand blindly reaching out to silence it, but it didn’t stop. It just kept going.
He groaned, dragging his hand down his face before finally grabbing the phone and pulling it closer, one eye barely open as he tried to make sense of what he was looking at. He had dozens of back to back missed calls and tons of texts stacked on top of each other. His brows pulled together.
“What the hell?”
He sat up slowly, the sheet falling to his waist as he unlocked the phone, scrolling through the chaos. Texts, calls, and voicemails from his agent, publicist, mom, friends, and even numbers he hadn’t saved. All of them saying some version of "call me" or "look at this" or "how did this happen?".
His stomach dropped because he knew this feeling all too well. He clicked one of the links that had been sent to him. And then his eyes widened.
The audio started playing almost immediately, and he froze because he knew exactly what he was listening to without having to read the headline. His body instantly felt heavy at the sounds of her moans and his praise.
“Fuck…” he breathed out, running a hand over his head.
This wasn’t like all the other rumors and speculations and scandals he had been involved in because this was far too real.
He tapped through a few more posts, seeing clips of it circulating every social media site and bloggers were running with it. People were reposting, commenting, quoting, analyzing, and speculating who the woman could possibly be. Luckily, if there was any luck in this, it wasn’t clear who she was. Her voice was there, but not enough for people to place.
At the thought of her, his blood went cold. He looked at his messages, but he saw nothing from her. No texts or calls.
He stared at her name, his thumb hovering like he was about to press it. She probably hadn't seen it yet, is what he thought to reassure himself. Because if she had seen…he didn't even want to think about what could happen.
His phone rang again, and when he looked at the caller id, it was his publicist. He answered immediately.
“Hello?”
“Michael, have you seen?” she said, sounding like she’d been up for hours.
“Yeah, I just saw it,” he said, running a hand over his face again. “I don't even know how this got out.”
“That’s what we all want to know,” she replied. “But what I need to know is who the woman in the audio is.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” he said quickly, shaking his head even though she couldn’t see him.
“Michael, I need you think about anyone who could've had access to you and that audio in the last couple of days,” she pressed.
He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, trying to think of who he had been around the last few days. He had taken a few days to rest and the only true contact he had was with the girl from yesterday. He had completely forgot about her the moment she left his place.
“I think I know who did it,” he said slowly, his tone changing.
“Who?” his publicist asked immediately.
He exhaled sharply.
“I had somebody over yesterday, and I guess she found a way to get into my phone,” he admitted.
There was a brief silence on the other end.
“Okay,” she said, switching into action mode. “Don’t reach out to her. Don’t say anything to anyone. We’ll handle it from here.”
Michael leaned back, staring ahead as frustration and anger started to settle into him.
“…aight,” he muttered.
Wunmi had just wrapped her meeting when her phone buzzed in her hand. She was walking out of the building, heels clicking softly against the pavement as she made her way to her car, half-listening to the tail end of a conversation behind her.
“Call me later, yeah?” she said over her shoulder with a small smile before slipping into the driver’s seat.
She exhaled, tossing her bag into the passenger seat before reaching to start the car. Her phone buzzed again in her lap.
It was a text from one of her friends. It was a link with a message of: "Girl did you see this?"
She sighed and tapped the link. The page loaded and something in her had such a reaction. It took her to TMZ's website and her stomach dropped before she could even finish reading the headline. Her hand tightly gripped on the steering wheel, engine now running but forgotten as her eyes moved quickly across the screen.
"Audio Leak of Academy Award Winning Michael B. Jordan and an Unknown Woman Having Sex"
Her chest tightened as she scrolled, the article breaking down everything they thought they knew. There were a few additional tweets and comments that were recently added of people speculating and describing what they thought they were hearing.
Her thumb hovered over the audio, and she hesitated to press it. But when she did and the clipped sound filled the car, she froze up. Her breathing slowed, like she was trying to control herself from getting worked up too quickly.
At the sound of her moans and muffled please, she could feel herself getting more and more upset. She kept listening even when she wanted to stop and her stomach twisted up. Even with her muffled voice, she knew. She couldn't pass this off as him being reckless with one of his other women. No, this was all her and him. She knew she should've stuck with her original instinct.
She shook her head slightly, a breath leaving her nose.
“This is exactly why…” she muttered, frustration increasing.
This wasn’t just embarrassing. It was a violation of her privacy.
She exited the article and went straight to her contacts. She pressed his name before she could even think twice about it. It barely rang even once, before it connected.
“Hello?” Michael answered. His voice had an edge to it, like he’d been waiting for this call and dreading it at the same time.
Wunmi didn’t say anything.
She had the phone sitting on the console, on speaker, both hands gripping the steering wheel even though the car was still parked. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, chest rising and falling a little heavier than normal.
On the other end, he exhaled.
“You saw it?” he asked.
Her lips parted slightly, but when she spoke, her voice came out calm.
“How did it get out?”
Michael didn’t answer right away, and she could practically hear him thinking, trying to figure out how to say it.
Her eyes closed briefly.
“Michael, be honest,” she said.
“I had somebody over yesterday, and I'm pretty sure she got it from my phone and leaked it,” he admitted quiety.
Wunmi felt heat rushing through her body, her heart starting to pound harder, faster. Her head dropped forward slightly, and she let out a short, disbelieving breath.
“Michael, are you serious?”
“Baby, I’m sorry— I’m so sorry,” he rushed out his apology in a panic.
She shook her head, a humorless laugh slipping out.
“I knew this would happen,” she said, her voice rising now. “I knew it. We talked about this stuff over and over again.”
“Wunmi—”
“No,” she cut in. “No, because you keep doing this. You keep dealing with these women, and they continue to make your life hell, and now mine too.”
“I couldn’t control this! I didn't know she would do that,” he shot back, a hint of offense creeping into his voice.
She let out a short laugh, turning her head slightly like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“You couldn’t control it?” she repeated. “Michael, she got it from your phone!”
He exhaled hard.
“This wouldn’t even be happening if we were together like I wanted,” he said, the words coming out before he could stop them.
Her head snapped back up.
“I can't believe you,” she said, almost in disbelief now. “We’ve had this conversation so many times.”
He stayed quiet.
“You weren’t ready for what I wanted,” she continued.
“I was there for you,” he pushed back quickly. “You know I love you. You know I’ve supported you this whole time.”
“And this is support?” she asked, her voice rising again. “When I asked you if you were ready, what did you tell me?”
“Wunmi, that’s not what I—”
“What did you tell me?” she cut in, firmly, not letting him move past it.
He went quiet again.
She could hear him breathing, trying to think of a way around it.
“There’s no way around it. Say it,” she said, quietly.
He exhaled slowly.
“…I said I didn’t know what it would mean to date a costar.”
She nodded slightly to herself, even though he couldn’t see her.
“Exactly, you weren’t ready for me then. And I don't think you're ready for me now."
“I am, ready” he said quickly. “I want all of that with you—”
But she didn’t let him finish. She cut him off again knowing he hated that.
“It’s okay,. I understand now,” she said.
“Wunmi—”
“I’m done.”
“Wait—hold on, just—” he started, his voice picking up in desperation. “Let me—”
She ended the call.
On the other end, Michael stared at his phone in disbelief. Because if there was one thing he hated, it was being hung up on. And she knew that.
A week of pure silence went by. They didn't have their usual check in calls and random texts. He didn’t even realize how much he relied on them until they were gone.
Michael sat in his living room, phone in his hand, staring down at their message thread again like it was going to change if he looked at it long enough. He had sent text after text and got no response. He had even sent a dm late one night when he couldn’t sleep, hoping maybe she’d see it there if she was avoiding his number.
He leaned back into the couch, exhaling through his nose.
He wasn’t used to this from her. They had never gone this long without talking, not once in the two years they’d known each other. Even when things got complicated and they danced around whatever this was between them, they still talked. She never shut him out like this. Which meant she was serious.
His mom had said her piece about it too. More than once.
Earlier that week, she sat across from him at the kitchen table, looking at him in that way all moms.
“You let that girl get away. And for what, Michael?” she asked plainly.
He didn’t even have a good answer then. And he definitely didn’t have one now.
He knew what Wunmi was to him and he'd known it for a while. He just hadn’t moved on it the way he should have. And now he was sitting here, locked out completely, replaying every conversation they’d ever had about what she wanted and what he wasn’t ready for.
His phone rang, pulling him out of it. He looked down to see it was Ryan.
“Yo.”
“Aye,” Ryan’s voice came through, calm as usual. “You good?”
Michael let out a short breath. “I’m aight.”
Ryan didn’t push at the sound of that.
“We got invited to the Lakers game tomorrow,” he said instead. “They want everybody there.”
“Yeah? That's what's up,” he said.
“I’m about to start calling everybody now,” Ryan continued. “Just wanted to hit you up first.”
Michael nodded, thinking ahead.
“Have you talked to Wunmi yet?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
There was a small pause on the other end.
“…nah, not yet,” Ryan said.
Michael leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Can you call her next,” he said, a little more direct this time.
“I got you. Everything straight with y'all?” he replied slowly.
Michael rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling quietly.
“I think I fucked up,” he admitted.
Ryan let out a small hum on the other end.
“Yeah, I figured that when she came over the other day,” he said simply.
Michael let out a dry breath that was almost a laugh but not quite.
“Yeah…” he muttered.
Because it was obvious to everybody but him until it was too late.
“I’ll call her,” Ryan said after a second. “We’ll see what she say.”
“Bet,” Michael replied.
They hung up.
Michael couldn't help but to think of the possibility if she showed up tomorrow. It would practically be his only shot to fix this and he just couldn't mess up again.
The rest of that day—and honestly most of the next—was spent with Michael trying to get himself together, both mentally and physically. He couldn't treat this as another one of their link-ups or casual run-ins. This time had to be different.
He went through the day distracted, checking his phone more than he needed to, even though he knew she wasn’t going to text him. Still, there was this small part of him that kept hoping her name would pop up anyway. It didn’t.
So he focused on what he could control, like what he was going to wear.
That alone took longer than it should have. He wasn’t trying to do too much, but he also wasn’t trying to look like he didn’t care.
Then there was the cologne.
He stood in front of his picking up one bottle, then another, uncapping them, letting the scent hit the air before shaking his head and setting it back down. Because he knew what she liked. Whenever he would wear certain ones, she'd lean in a little closer, her nose would brush his neck like she was trying to get more of it, and it always turned into something else.
He wasn't trying to manipulate her. But he missed how easy it was between them, and how close they always were. Touching on each other with not a care in the world.
He got into the shower, his mind trying to prep him for the night. He thought on what he was going to say and how he was going to say it. Every version of the conversation played out differently in his head. Sometimes she listened, sometimes she didn’t, and sometimes she walked away.
He leaned his head back under the water, letting it run over his face as he exhaled slowly.
“Just talk,” he muttered to himself. “Don’t overthink it.”
But that was easier said than done. This wasn’t just about smoothing things over anymore. It was about what she meant to him. And he’d had too much time to sit with that over the past week.
He had time to really think about what his life looked like without her in it. And he didn’t like it at all. It felt incomplete.
And the more he thought about it, the clearer it became. He wanted more. Not this back-and-forth where their paths only crossed when they could fit each other in. He wanted her fully. In the same way she had been asking for from the beginning. Marriage, kids, consistency, and stability. All the things he used to hesitate on because he wasn’t sure when or how they were supposed to fit into his life.
He turned the water off, stepping out and grabbing a towel, running it over his body quickly before wrapping it low around his waist.
His phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at it, seeing a text from Ryan.
Car pulling up in 10.
He moved a little faster now, going through the rest of his routine with purpose. He got dressed, fixing his shirt in the mirror and adjusting his chain before stepping back and really looking at himself. Trying to see what she would see. Because if there was even the smallest chance he could pull her back in, he was taking it.
When he was fully finished getting ready, the escalade was already waiting outside. He grabbed his keys, heading for the door.
His mind was filled with thoughts of her. He missed her presence and her voice. He wanted to hold her, pull her in close, kiss her without worrying about who was watching, and love on her without it being complicated.
The ride over to the arena was steady and easy.
Ryan and Zinzi kept the energy light, talking about everything and nothing. Michael chimed in where he could, nodding and smiling, even laughing at the right moments.
The car slowed as they pulled up to the arena. They came to a stop, but no one got out right away. They sat there long enough for Michael to shift in anticipation.
Another SUV pulled up behind them, not too long after.
“That’s them,” Zinzi said, reaching for the door as Ryan moved to get out and help her.
Michael stepped out of the car a second later, adjusting his shirt slightly as he turned around.
He watched as the door to the second SUV opened. Miles stepped out first, then he turned back, reaching his hand in to help Jayme out next. She laughed at something he said, steadying herself as she stepped down. Miles kept his hand out to help Wunmi out of the car.
And when Michael saw her, it was like the air was knocked straight out of him. She looked effortlessly good. She wore wide-legged dark green high-waisted pants that made her look taller. A half unbuttoned lighter green blouse was tucked in the pants that fit her frame and amplified her chest. Her hair was in fulani braids with curly hair flowing in the back, half of the curls pulled up.
He noticed every detail and then some.
She was laughing with her head tilted back, hand brushing Miles' arm as Jayme said something else that made her smile even wider. It all felt normal like nothing had happened.
Ryan and Zinzi started walking over, and Michael followed a step behind, his hands sliding casually into his pockets to keep himself from doing too much.
They met in the middle.
“Hey!” Jayme greeted, pulling Zinzi into a hug.
Miles dapped Ryan up. Wunmi smiled warmly as she hugged Ryan next, her arms wrapping around him naturally.
“Hey, stranger,” she teased lightly.
Ryan laughed. “You were just with us the other day.”
“I can still say 'hi',” she shot back easily.
Then she turned to Zinzi, pulling her into a hug just as tight. And they instantly fell into conversation. Even with the very clear tension between her and Michael.
She didn’t even look at him. Not even once.
Michael tried to keep it together, shifting his attention to Jayme, pulling her into a quick hug.
“Good to see you,” he said.
“You too,” she smiled.
He dapped Miles up next.
“What’s good,” Miles said.
“You good?” Michael replied.
“Always.”
But even while he was doing that his eyes subtly drifted over to her. And unbeknownst to him, she was doing the same.
She started at his bare arms where his short sleeves had cut off. Then up to his shoulders, then to his chest to see the way his shirt sat on him. She kept going further and further down, taking all of him in, before she caught herself and looked away.
She was still upset and very much not over what happened. But that didn’t stop the annoying feeling that hit her the second she saw him. Because she had missed him more than she wanted to admit. And standing this close to him again was already harder than she thought it would be.
Security started ushering them toward the entrance. Miles and Jayme took the lead, still mid-conversation. Ryan and Zinzi followed just behind them, Zinzi linking her arm through his as they talked quietly between themselves.
Michael slowed down a bit, trying not to make it obvious.
He let a small gap form between him and the group. His steps were easing so that Wunmi naturally fell in line beside him instead of ahead. He subtly glanced over at her, trying to read her without being too obvious about it.
She felt his staring, but still didn't look at him. Her fingers flexed slightly at her side, and her expression staying neutral even as her stomach tightened.
He cleared his throat softly.
“Wun—”
Before he could even get her name out fully, she picked up her pace enough to close the distance between her and Zinzi, slipping right into step beside her. She jumped into whatever conversation Zinzi was having.
When they got inside the arena was buzzing in chaos. The space was bright, players were warming up, and the crowd was filling in fast.
They were guided down toward courtside, people were waving, and trying to record them. Michael barely registered any of it.
He stayed just behind the group as they approached their seats, letting everyone file in. Miles took the far end, Jayme sliding in beside him. Then Wunmi, Zinzi, Ryan, and Michael.
He sat down slowly, immediately leaning back into the seat, his knee bouncing slightly before he forced it to be still.
Out of his peripheral, he could see her talking to Jayme. Every now and then she’d laugh softly, her hand brushing against her leg, her posture relaxed.
His fingers tapped lightly against his thigh before he stopped himself, exhaling slowly through his nose.
He wanted to really look at her. But he knew if he turned his head too much and he stared too long, it would push her further away. So he kept his eyes forward.
For most of the game, they existed around each other. For anyone on the outside it didn't look much different, but for anyone paying attention, it was obvious.
Wunmi stayed angled away from him almost the entire time. Her body turned slightly toward Jayme, her legs crossed in their direction, her attention locked in with them like she was intentionally building a wall. And it worked.
Every now and then she’d react to the game by clapping lightly, shaking her head at a missed shot, or smiling when a big play happened.
Michael was sitting just a few seats away, feeling every bit of the distance she was creating.
He tried to focus on the game at first. But it didn’t stick.
At one point, the jumbotron lights flashed across the crowd and a camera swung toward them. The entire cast popped up on the screen, and they immediately played their parts. They all smiled and waved, and the audience went crazy. When the camera moved on, they all settled back into their seats.
As the game continued, Michael felt this strong need to break whatever this was between them, even if it was just a conversation.
He shifted slightly in his seat, to see that she was on her phone. He swallowed, then reached for his own phone. He typed a message and sent it to her quickly.
Can we talk after the game?
Then he waited. He watched from the corner of his eye.
Her phone buzzed softly in her hand. Her thumb slid across the screen, opening the message. She read it with no reaction. She swiped up, locked her, and placed it face down iin her lap.
After, everything in her became tense. Her back pressed further into the seat. Her legs crossed tighter. And her shoulders lifted just slightly.
Beside her, Zinzi glanced over, her eyes scanning Wunmi’s face for a second before leaning in.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
Wunmi didn’t look at her right away.
Her eyes stayed forward on the court, watching the players move, even though her mind wasn’t really there anymore.
“He wants to talk to me,” she said under her breath.
Zinzi’s brows lifted slightly.
“And?”
Wunmi exhaled softly.
“I’m still upset.”
Zinzi’s lips curved into a small, knowing smirk, but she didn't say anything else. She just leaned back into her seat again, eyes returning to the game.
And after a second, Wunmi did the same. But her mind wasn’t on the court anymore.
When the final buzzer sounded, people stood on their feet, some already filing out, others lingering behind. Security moved in while staff guided people out in an organized flow.
The group stood up together, stretching a little, gathering their things. Wunmi grabbed her small bag, smoothing her top down instinctively as she walked behind them.
Security quickly formed around them, guiding them from the court toward the tunnel entrance. Somehow, Michael ended up right behind Wunmi. His eyes dropped for a second, watching the way the fabric of her pants shifted as she walked.
He swallowed.
“Wun—”
He didn’t even get the chance to finish, because in the next second, her foot caught on something uneven along the ground. Her body tilted forward slightly and before she could fully lose her balance, his hand shot out to grab her waist. He pulled her back just enough to steady her, his other hand coming up briefly to support her. Her back pressed into his chest.
They were close enough for her to feel the rise and fall of his breathing. His hand was on her waist, holding her there.
“You good?” he whispered, right near her ear.
Wunmi's hand came up, instinctively gripping his where it rested on her waist. Her breath hitched slightly, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. Because it felt so easy to fall back into this. Then reality snapped back in.
Her fingers loosened from his hand. She stepped forward quickly, breaking the contact like it burned. She didn’t look at him. She started walking, not saying anything to him.
Michael pushed forward, catching up to the group that had already made it out to the cars.
Ryan, Zinzi, Miles, and Jayme were gathered near one of the SUVs, their voices low as they talked.
Wunmi slowed her pace as she approached them, her face back in place. Michael came up just behind her.
Zinzi looked up first, her eyes flicking between the two of them quickly before she stepped forward.
“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands together lightly. “So there's been a slight switch.”
Wunmi looked at her in suspicion.
“Miles and Jayme are gonna ride with us,” Zinzi continued. “Their hotels are on the way to our place anyway.”
Miles nodded. “It makes more sense.”
“And y'all live closer to each other than we ddo, so I think this works better,” Zinzi added.
Wunmi’s eyes flicked briefly toward Michael, then away just as fast.
Michael exhaled slowly, nodding once like he understood exactly what Zinzi was doing, and he wasn’t mad at it.
Wunmi’s lips pressed together, her shoulders squaring slightly as she let out a quiet huff under her breath. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes flicked to Zinzi for half a second, as if to say "really?".
Zinzi caught the look, but she didn't take anything back. After their previous discussion a few days ago, Zinzi knew that the two needed to talk, and tonight just proved it.
Michael shifted his weight, sliding his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels like he was trying to find the right way to step into this without making it worse.
“I mean, I'm cool with it,” he said carefully.
He didn’t want to push too hard, but he also wasn’t about to fight her. This might be the only way he was going to get her alone, and he was taking the chance.
The group started saying their goodbyes then, the moment moving forward whether Wunmi liked it or not.
Jayme stepped in first, wrapping Wunmi up in a quick hug. “Text me when you get in,” she said softly.
“I will,” Wunmi nodded, her voice lighter now, easier.
Miles followed, giving her a quick squeeze.
Ryan pulled her into a hug next, a little tighter. “You good?”
She nodded against his shoulder. “I’m fine.”
He pulled back, searching her face for a second like he didn’t fully believe it.
Zinzi came last. Wunmi hugged her, but there was a slight stiffness to it.
“You’ll be alright,” Zinzi murmured low in her ear.
Wunmi didn’t respond, she just pulled back with a tight smile.
Then it was Michael’s turn. He dapped up Miles and gave Jayme a quick hug.
Ryan pulled him in, patting his back twice. “Handle that,” he said under his breath.
Michael huffed a quiet breath. “I’m trying to.”
Zinzi hugged him last, squeezing him a little tighter than necessary.
“Don’t mess it up,” she whispered.
He let out a low exhale. “I hear you.”
They all started loading into their SUV, doors shutting one by one until it was just him and her standing there. For a second, neither of them moved. Then Michael stepped forward, reaching for the door handle to open it for her, but before he could even touch it Wunmi opened it herself.
His hand hovered in the air before slowly dropping back to his side. It was just one of the many recent things she's been doing that she knew he wouldn't like.
She didn’t acknowledge him as she climbed into the SUV like he wasn’t even there.
Michael pressed his lips together, jaw tightening slightly before he walked around and got in after her.
The door shut and they were alone. The driver pulled off, the city lights starting to blur past the windows as they merged into traffic. For the first few minutes, it was silent.
Wunmi sat angled slightly toward the window, one leg crossed over the other, her phone in her hand as she scrolled. Her face was calm.
Michael sat beside her, one arm resting on his thigh, the other against the door, his fingers tapping lightly. He glanced at her, but she didn’t look up.
The quiet was uncomfortable and it stretched.
All the things he needed to say were sitting right at the surface.
He exhaled slowly, leaning back slightly in his seat, eyes dragging over her one more time.
“You really not gonna say nothing to me?” he finally muttered, voice low but edged just enough to break through the silence.
Her thumb paused on her screen, but then she kept scrolling.
“Wunmi, please,” he said finally, his voice softer this time. He didn't sound as frustrated as he could sound, he was just tired.
She paused. Her thumb hovered over her screen before she slowly locked her phone and set it down on her lap. A rough exhale left her as she leaned forward, reaching toward the small control panel on the door.
The partition began to slide up, cutting them off from the driver.
She leaned back into her seat and turned toward him fully this time. One leg crossed over the other, arms folding across her chest.
“What do you want me to say to you, Michael?”
Her voice was calm, but there was a slight edge to it. Her accent came through a little thicker, wrapping around her words in a way that told him she was feeling something deeper than she was letting on.
Michael swallowed, his body turning toward her as well.
“I just—” he started, then stopped, running his hand over his mouth. “I wanna talk about this. We need to.”
She lifted her hand slightly, gesturing toward him.
“Then talk.”
Michael leaned back for a second, dragging in a deep breath through his nose before letting it out slowly. His hands came together between his knees, fingers interlocking tightly.
“I’m sorry,” he said, the words coming out low but steady. “For real. I’m sorry.”
Her expression didn’t change. But she was listening.
“I didn’t think that would happen,” he continued, shaking his head slightly. “Especially not like that. You know I’ve been trying to be careful with us and everything.”
His eyes lifted to hers.
“I get why you mad. I do. You got every right to be.”
Wunmi’s jaw tightened slightly, but she stayed quiet.
“I just…” he exhaled, leaning forward a little. “I don’t wanna be like that with you again. I don’t wanna go another week, another day, without you talking to me. I wanna fix this…I need to fix this.”
Her eyes finally locked onto his fully now.
“And I know I’ve been dragging my feet,” he admitted, voice dropping a little. “I know I haven’t let this be what it should've been. But I’m ready now.”
Wunmi let out a short scoff, her head tilting slightly as she looked at him.
“All of a sudden you’re ready now?” she said, disbelief laced through her tone.
Her arms tightened across her chest.
“So now that I stop talking to you, and you thought you lost me, you want me?”
Michael shook his head quickly. “No, it’s not like that—”
“It sounds exactly like that,” she cut in.
Her voice didn’t raise, but it sharpened.
“You had so much time, Michael,” she continued. “We talked about this. More than once.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees now.
“I know. I know,” he said quickly. “And I messed that up.”
She watched him carefully.
Really watching him now.
“But this didn’t just start because of this situation,” he said, his voice steadying again. “This just made me really think about it. I’ve always felt something different with you. Something I ain’t felt with nobody else.”
“I want you,” he said, more firmly this time. “I want you all the way. No more waiting to see when we could meet up, adn fit each other in. I want you all the time. That's what I need."
His voice dropped lower.
"I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he added quietly. “And I don’t wanna find out.”
Her composure cracked just enough for it to show in her eyes. That week hadn’t been easy for her either.
She looked away for a moment, her arms loosening slightly as she let out a slow breath.
“Are you serious?” she asked softly.
Michael didn’t hesitate.
“Very serious, baby. And I’ll do whatever it takes. Whatever you need. I love you." he said.
Wunmi swallowed, her emotions finally catching up to her. She hated how easy it was for him to get to her like this and she hated how much she still cared.
“If you’ll do whatever it takes…” she said slowly, her voice quieter now, “…then you need to get rid of all those other girls.”
Michael didn’t even pause. “Done.”
Her brows lifted slightly at how fast he answered.
He reached for her hand before she could pull away, his fingers wrapping around hers firmly but gently. He brought it up, pressing a kiss against the back of it, his lips lingering there for a second.
“I’m serious about you,” he murmured against her skin.
He lowered her hand slightly but didn’t let it go, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
“I want everything with you,” he added. “And I’m sorry for the anxiety and for trying to flip it on you like it wasn’t my fault. That was on me, baby.”
Wunmi watched him closely. Then slowly she nodded in acceptance.
His grip on her hand tightened just a little, relief flooding through him.
“Come here,” he said softly.
He tugged her gently toward him. And she didn’t fight it.
Wunmi scooted closer in her seat, letting their bodies press together.
Michael immediately wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in so she was leaning against him, her shoulder resting lightly against his chest. He shifted slightly, placing a hand on her thigh, and held her gaze.
“I love you and I really missed you,” he murmured.
Her fingers pulled his hand from her thigh, and she laced their fingers together, squeezing once.
“I missed you too,” she said quietly. “And there’s so much I need to tell you.”
His eyes lit up, a small smile tugging at his lips. Without hesitation, he leaned in, capturing hers in a soft kiss.
They stayed like that for a while, letting the world outside the car disappear. When they finally pulled away, Michael rested his forehead gently against hers for a moment before starting to talk.
They filled the space between them with everything they had done or heard while they were apart.
When they pulled up to Michael’s house, he turned to her, eyes locking on hers.
“Do you really want to go home?” His voice was calm, but the look in his eyes was a plea.
Something inside her folded instantly. She blinked, swallowing back the last bit of resistance.
“I can stay with you,” she said softly.
Michael’s face broke into a relieved smile. He opened his door and held his hand out. She grabbed it without hesitation.
They stepped out together, fingers laced tightly. They walked up to the front door side by side. Michael opened the door, and they stepped inside, door clicking shut behind them.
They just stood in the entranceway eyes locked.
Michael reached for her hand, tugging her closer until their bodies nearly touched. His free hand cupped her face, thumb tracing her cheek, then slid back under her hair.
"I love this hair on you," he warmly murmured.
She smiled soft, leaning into him. "Thank you."
He stared in her eyes as his hand drifted down her back. He pulled her into him so that their bodies pressed close together.
His lips met hers softly, and she melted right into him, her arms looping around his neck.
They broke apart, breaths mingling. Then when they went back in it was far more heated, their tongues and hands all over each other. The second time they pulled away it left them both flustered. Michael grabbed her hand and led her toward the kitchen.
Along the way, their clothes started coming off. His fingers popped the buttons on her blouse, peeling it open to reveal her lace bra. She tugged his shirt up, exposing his bare skin. Both their pants hit the floor.
By the time they made it to the kitchen doorway, everything was gone and left in the hall. They were both fully naked.
Michael pulled her close, their mouths moved slow and nasty. Tongues sliding together and breaths mixing. His hands gripped her waist, then went lower. His palms cupped the full swell of her ass, squeezing the plush bottom before fingers slipped lower. He found her slick folds, exploring slowly. He parted them, circling her entrance, and going lower to tease her clit. She moaned straight into his mouth, the sound vibrating between them.
He worked her up trying to pull more wetness to coat his fingers. It worked because she started to rock into his hand. His dick hardened against her thigh.
She rocked harder into his hand, moans turning into sighs, that were swallowed by their kiss.
Michael pecked her lips, then turned her around to face the marble counter. His lips kissed and sucked her neck. Wunmi moaned out, tilting her head to give him easier access.
He put one hand on her upper back to push her down until her chest pressed flat to the counter. He slowly placed kisses down her back, over each ass cheek, and down to the thick back of her thighs.
Both of his hands gripped her cheeks, pulling them open wide. Her wetness glistened, entrance clenching. He bit his lip hard.
"You so pretty, baby."
His tongue dragged slowly from her clit to her entrance. The lick made her gasp and push her ass back on his tongue. He repeated it twice, before latching onto her clit, sucking firmly while flicking his tongue rapid over the swollen bud.
She moaned loudly, her body jolted. She desperately reached one hand back to grab his head, but her fingers grazed air because she couldn't quite get to him.
He shifted from her clit to her entrance, tongue swirling around the rim before plunging inside, fucking in and out shallowly.
"Michael—" she moaned his name, hips rolling back eagerly, grinding on his face.
His grip tightened on her ass. Then he smacked it every now and then, watching cheeks ripple.
"You taste so fucking good," he moaned against her, vibrations humming through.
He kept at it, tongue exploring deep as it could, curling everywhere.
She felt pressure building tight in her core. Her hand smacked the counter loud. "I'm about to com—"
He pulled away suddenly. His mustache was glistening wet with her arousal and lips shiny.
She whined, body chasing him.
He smacked her ass as he stood up behind her, the sting pulled another moan from her. She leaned back, seeking him out.
His lips pressed against her back, then he leaned over to whisper in her ear, "You know I love you, right?"
"Yes," she whispered, turning her head so they could kiss.
His hand wrapped around her neck, lifting her upper body off the counter to give her an arch. The kiss quickly turned nasty. His other hand trailed past her stomach, fingers finding her soaked folds, then slid in two thick digits.
He sucked her bottom lip hard while she gasped into him, the stretch hitting perfectly. He started fingering her steadily, pumping and twisting his pointer and middle fingers while his thumb grazed her clit.
Wunmi's moans went straight into his mouth. Her eyes rolled back, fluttering shut in bliss.
He kept fingering her to build her back up, stroking that spot relentlessly. His grip tightened on her neck, tilting her face.
"Look at me," he demanded. "I wanna see those pretty eyes when you come."
She moaned, hand reaching back to clutch his arm. Her pussy clenched hard around his fingers, but he pushed through trying to keep the rhythm.
He added a third finger, stretching her wider to build her up faster.He drove his fingers harder, twisting and pumping through her tightening walls until she tensed up.
Her orgasm ripped through her, pussy gushing cream over his hand.
"Fuck," he cussed low, feeling her pulse around him.
Michael's fingers slowly slid out, glistening with her release. He held them up, inspecting the digits, then brought one to his mouth to suck it clean with a groan.
"Open your mouth," he ordered.
Her lips parted and he pushed two of the slick fingers past them. She sucked eager, treating them like they were him, tongue swirling in full circles, lapping every drop of her own taste until nothing was left. Their eyes stayed locked the whole time.
He pulled his fingers out of her mouth, then straightened up behind her. His hand smaked her twice on the ass, which pulled whimpers from her with each hit. One hand wrapped his thick dick, stroking firm from base to tip, slick with pre-come. The other soothingly rubbed her ass.
He lightly tapped her ass cheeks with his dick, teasing the flesh, watching it bounce.
With his free hand, he tapped her inner thigh.
"Scoot back a little."
She quickly widened her stance, feet shifting apart on the tile.
His dick dragged up her soaked slit, then down again. She clenched around nothing, needy moans spilling out of her with each pass he did.
She pushed back on him, trying to press him into her.
"Put it in," she whined.
He pressed forward sliding in inch by inch until his was in deep. They both moaned at the feeling.
"Hold yourself open. I need to see it."
She reached back fingers pulling one of her cheeks to the side, so he could see where he stretched her open. He started stroking, loving the way her ass bounced off his hips with each thrust. Wunmi's arm smacked the counter then she gripped it tight for leverage. Her body slid forward against the marble from the momentum.
Michael had a steady rhythm going, hips rolling into her. His hands clamped her hips firmly, pulling her back to meet him halfway.
"Fuck, baby," she cussed, head dropping.
"You feel me?"
"Yes—" her answer interrupted by a moan.
"Where you feel me at?"
"Everywhere," she gasped, walls fluttering around him.
She clenched around him suddenly making a groan come from his throat. He smacked her on the assagain. "Open up, baby."
"It feels so good, Daddy," she breathed, voice trembling.
He started to yank her back on him rougher than before. His thrusts became overwhelming.
Wunmi subtly shifted forward on the counter, trying to ease the intensity. But he followed seamlessly.
He gripped her thigh. "Put your leg up, so you can't go nowhere."
A whine in protest escaped her, but she obeyed, lifting one leg high so it met the cool counter. The new position had opened her up wider.
He put a hand around her neck, gripping firmly to pull her upper body off the counter. The angle sharpened as he fucked up into her, his hips snapping into her harshly.
Her breasts swung with each thrust, nipples grazing the cool marble. Her ass clapped loudly against him. Moans flowed out of her with every rough thrust.
Michael groaned, grip tightening on her neck, lifting her higher until her back bowed, her leg still jooked on the counter. He pounded up, balls slapping against her clit.
"You're so fucking big," she moaned. "I'm about to come—"
"You can come for me," he said going harder. He hit those deep spots in her that made her eyes roll back, body tensing.
He powered through her tight gripping walls while his free hand went down to her clit and rubbed quick circles.
Moans came out wildly from her as he stroked until her legs trembled. Her orgasm rushed out.
Wunmi cried out, trying to catch her breath. He released her neck, letting her collapse forward onto the counter, body still trembling in waves.
He pulled out slowly and stroked himself lazily. His eyes were glued to her glistening pussy and slick thighs. He had more in him, but damn, watching her come was just too good.
She lay there, chest rising falling quickly against the marble, as she tried to catch her breath.
After giving her a second to recover, Michael kneaded her ass, then delivered a playful slap that echoed in the kitchen.
"We can keep going, baby."
"My legs, Michael…" Wunmi shifted, legs shaky. One thigh burned from being on the counter and the other was stiff.
"Let's go upstairs then," he said sliding his arms around her waist to help her down.
She leaned against on him, his strength easily holding her steady and upright.
He grabbed her hand, and they shuffled toward the stairs together. They didn't make it far, only three steps up, before Wunmi paused and turned to him. Their heated eyes met, and no words were needed.
She tugged him down and their connected in a hungry kiss on the stairs. His hands cupped her face, then one dropped to knead her breast, thumb flicking a nipple. She pressed her chest to his, a moan vibrating between them as they sank down on the steps.
Michael sat on one of the stairs, legs spread.
"Come here," he murmured, hand snaking to grab one thigh to tug her forward insistent.
She straddled him, knees bracketing his hips on the narrow stair. Her arms wrapped around his neck as they kissed, pulling him closer as their tongues slid together messily.
His hands went down her back to land on her ass. He caressed and squeezed the full cheeks.
Wunmi rocked forward, feeling his dick tease her slick lips, bumping her clit with each pass.
She kept grinding until she lifted up, his tip nudging her entrance perfectly. She slowly sank down, stretching around him inch by inch until she sat fully on his lap. She moaned in his ear, feeling him shift slightly in her.
He gave her a few taps on her thigh as approval for her to start moving. And she did. She bounced up and down steadily, taking him in deep with every drop.
Michael turned into a moaning mess beneath her. His head fell back against the step, groans coming out. His hands gripped her hips to help lift. They were both lost in the moment.
She kept bouncing, breathy moans filling his ears and driving him wild. Michael groaned nonstop below her, cussing under breath, "Fuck, baby—ride this shit…"
Riding him never fazed her like other positions. She loved the control she had over him, from the pace to the depth.
Both of his hands claimed her ass cheeks, holding firmly as she lifted and dropped, skin slapping loud on the stairs. Every time she rose to just his tip, she deliberately clenched, fluttering around the sensitive head. A groan ripped from him each time, hips bucking up involuntary.
Michael felt a coil tightening low in his gut, balls drawing up.
"Baby, slow down, wait—" he tried warning between groans, voice strained.
But she didn't ease up, instead she kept bouncing eagerly, moans going higher, vibrating against his skin.
"Shit—you're so fucking perfect," he groaned, palm hitting one ass cheek, watching it ripple mid-bounce.
She gasped but went down harder, clenching playfully.
He held out as long as he could, but his release came hard. He pulled out quickly with a curse. Dick throbbing against her lower back as he stroked fast until ropes of come painted her back.
Wunmi breathed out satisfied as she lifted carefully off of him, thighs wet and shaky from the ride. She lightly patted his thigh. "Come on, big Daddy."
She turned and started up the stairs, ass swaying with each step, knowing his eyes were watching every curve.
Michael sat there chest heaving as he tried to collect himself, dick still twitching. He shook it off with a low chuckle and pushed up to follow behind her.
When he reached the bedroom doorfnd her already on the massive bed on all fours, ass back arched .
"Uhn-uhn," he head as he crawled on after her. "Turn around."
She flipped onto her back, legs parting naturally.
He crawled over her slowly, caging her body with his. His knees bracketed her thighs and his hands went beside her shoulders. He leaned down and kissed her.
She moaned straight into his mouth, hands sliding up his arms to pull him closer.
He abruptly pulled back from the kiss, lips teasingly hovered over hers. She instantly chased him, whimpering when he wouldn't give in. tease.
Michael let out a low chuckle as his hands slid to grip her thighs firmly and spread them wider. He grabbed his dick and tapped her clit three times which made her shiver. Then he sank in smoothly, bottoming out. He immediately started long, slow strokes, hips rolling into hers.
Wunmi tossed her head back into the pillows, moan spilling out, and back arching off the sheets.
His hand dipped, fingers finding her swollen clit, and rubbed it in tight circles while he thrusted.
It was too much stimulation. Her legs tensed up, knees knocking inward to close.
He sharply smacked her thigh, then the other, making them open wide. "Open your fucking legs," he growled. "So I can fuck this pretty pussy right."
She moaned helplessly, thighs obediently falling open under his hold. Her body surrendering as he kept thrusting and rubbing on her clit.
When his tip grazed that spot deep within her, a sharp "Oh my God" came out. Her legs tried to squeeze closed again, thighs trembling. But his hands pressed harder, forcing them wide so her knees were pinned near the mattress.
One of her hands desperately shot down, hand weakly pressing his pelvis. "It's too much..."
Her body went rigid when his fingers sped up on her clit. He sped up his thrusts too.
Unexpectedly, her orgasm slammed through her. Her walls pulsed around nothing now as he pulled out. He rubbed his tip on her clit, forcing more cream to spill out.
She trembled violently, whole body shaking. Her free hand shoved at his chest and his arm. "Please— fuck—"
But he held firm, rubbing her through her peak, drawing out shudders and cries until she was a mess beneath him.
He gently eased back in, letting her walls adjust. Then shifted his weight forward, laying on top of her, chest to chest. Her legs hooked around his waist, and arms wrapped around his shoulders tight, pulling him close as his mouth found hers again.
He started thrusting deep and quick, stroking fast but precise. Muffled moans traveled into his mouth as her nails lightly scratched his skin. He pushed a bit deeper, his tip nudging her A-spot. She gasped a "Wait" as her fingers dug into his back hard, body tensing under him.
Michael slowed instantly, barely pulling out before sinking back in again to hit that spot over and over. He kept digging like that. Sweat covered their skin, and moans filled the silence. He left a trail of soft kisses on her neck as he ignored her pleas. He kept at it until her cries turned into high pitched whimpers.
Her vision blurred as an orgasm washed over her. With each thrust it felt like she just kept coming.
He grunted in her ear as he felt his own release creeping up. She clenched around him, trying to milk him. He looked down at her flushed face and felt everything in him tighten up.
"Come in me. Please, baby..." she whimpered.
He picked up his pace, focusing every stroke on trying to go deep, chasing his release. With every thrust more please fell from Wunmi's mouth.
"Come in me, Daddy—come in me, please, Daddy..."
A final thrust had him burying himself until their bodies were flush against each other. He groaned as he came in in her while she pulesd around him trying to suck in every drop.
He slowly leaned down and gently brushed her lip. This kiss was the softest they've had all night.
She sighed out content, body melting. He eased himself out carefully, come trickling between her thighs, then rolled over so he was laying beside her.
The sunlight came through the curtains, settling across the sheets where Michael and Wunmi lay completely sprawled out, asleep and completely naked.
Michael had completely forgotten about his lunch with his mom. She’d been calling all morning, but after their make-up, neither of them had moved once.
A soft knock came at the front door. No answer. Another knock, but this time it was firmer. Still nothing.
After a few minutes too long of waiting Ms. Donna sighed, and used her key.
“Michael?” she called, her voice echoing as she stepped into the house.
She glanced around the area to see shoes, clothes, and bags scattered everywhere. She scoffed, shaking her head.
Typical Michael…probably brought home some random girl, she huffed under her breath.
She kept calling his name as she made her way upstairs, her footsteps careful. When she reached his bedroom, she knocked gently on the open door. Then, stepped inside and called out again.
“Michael!”
The sound of his name was enough to make him spring awake. His heart raced as he looked around. Luckily, the blanket was draped across his lower half.
Wunmi stirred with his sudden movement, groaning softly. Her voice was thick with sleep.
“Mmmm… Michael…” she murmured, reaching toward him as if to pull him back down.
He resisted slightly, blinking at the sudden realization that his mother was in the room.
Wunmi pouted, eyes still half-closed, as she began to lift up. Luckily, only her back was exposed before she realized who was standing there. Her eyes widened completely mortified.
“Oh, Ms. Donna!” she gasped. “I—I am so sorry!”
Donna’s expression softened immediately.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she said gently, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just glad you two were able to make up.”
Wunmi blinked, still embarrassed, while Michael exhaled a shaky laugh, brushing a hand over his face.
Donna turned toward the door, smirking over her shoulder.
“I’ll fix you both some food. I’m sure you’re starving,” she said, her tone light and knowing.
And with that, she left, closing the door softly behind her.
end notes: part 3 in the works. this will be under "the Winners" series on my masterlist. ugh i just love them bad, and i miss seeing them together! also the website i use to write been glitching on me, so excuse the typos if you see some...i can't go back to google docs.
cw: sexual content, fake social media
summary: rumors have always spread about michael. he's endured comments on his dating preference, his latest fling of the week, and which costar he would date. groupies flock to him and celebrities make jokes about being with him. people see him as a sex symbol...the holy grail. but what nobody saw coming, especially after such a historic win, is a leak that only makes them want him more.
notes: fuck all that radio shit! you don't like, don't read...simple. anyways something to give the people since sinners is "over" and we had a beautiful awards season run. also this is inspired by real tweets.
March 15, 2026
Michael noticed how quiet it was when he opened his eyes. The kind of silence that let his thoughts run wherever they wanted. And his mind had been running all night.
He had barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, all these thoughts crept in. What if he didn’t win, what if he did, what was he supposed to say, how was he supposed to act, how would this change things, how it wouldn’t. It all blurred together until sleep felt pointless.
By the time the sun started coming up, he had given up on trying. So he decided to move around. That had always been his thing. When his head got loud, his body had to get louder.
He lifted weights first, thinking that the hard and fast reps would help exhaust the thoughts out of him. When that didn’t do it, he went for a run. The cold morning air hit his chest and his breathing evened out just enough to trick himself into thinking he was calming down.
And when that didn’t last, he came back, wrapped his hands, and hit the bag for a while. The steady rhythm of fists against leather echoed through the room, grounding him for a second, then it didn't. Because nothing stuck long enough.
Somehow he ended up in the kitchen when he wasn’t even hungry. He cooked something simple to keep his hands busy. He barely touched it once it was done.
Now he stood in his bathroom, the space warm from the steam he’d already started, staring at himself in the mirror. His jaw flexed slightly. His eyes looked far more tired than he wanted to admit. He exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.
This was supposed to be a good day. And it was going to be. He knew that. It was his first nomination and everything he had worked for lined up for this one night. People would kill to be in his position. So why did it feel like this?
His gaze dropped to the counter, where his phone sat. He stared at it for a second longer than he needed to. Then he reached for it.
It wasn’t even a real thought process. It was instinct at this point. When his head got like this, he went to her.
His thumb moved quickly over the screen, pulling up her name. He hesitated for half a second, then typed.
what you doing?
He tossed the phone back onto the counter like it didn’t matter, like he wasn’t about to sit there waiting for it to light up. He turned slightly, reaching to adjust the water, letting the heat build.
It didn’t even take that long for the screen to light up.
He glanced at it immediately.
I just woke up. Why?
He huffed out a quiet breath through his nose, a slight smile pulling at his mouth despite himself. Of course she was just waking up.
His fingers moved again.
how long will it take you to get ready today?
This time he didn’t put the phone down right away. He leaned back against the counter, arms folding loosely as he waited. Her response came a minute later.
3 hours at least. Why?
He nodded to himself. Three hours sounded about right. His thumb hovered over the screen for a second before he typed again.
what time you starting?
He knew he was asking a lot of questions. He knew she knew he was asking a lot of questions.
10:30. Again…why?
That made him let out a small breath that almost turned into a laugh. He could hear her saying it in that tone. And the side-eye that would’ve come with it if she were standing in front of him.
He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the phone, thinking for a second.
you eating before?
This time, the response didn’t come right away.
He pushed off the counter starting to pace a little as the restless energy still sat under his skin. The water kept running behind him, steam starting to fill the room more fully now. His phone buzzed again. He picked it up.
Are you okay?
His shoulders stilled, his pacing cut off mid-step as he looked down at the screen, reading it again like maybe it would say something different the second time. It was a simple four words, but they felt heavy.
His jaw tightened slightly, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he looked away from the phone for a second.
Was he okay? He exhaled slowly, running a hand over the back of his neck. Everything said he should’ve been, but his chest felt tight. His mind still wouldn’t slow down. There was this pressure sitting on him, not unbearable, but constant.
And of course she knew.
That was the thing about Wunmi. He could try to play it cool and keep it light, but she read right through it every time. It didn’t matter if they hadn’t seen each other in weeks or if they’d been in the same room all day. She saw through him.
He looked back down at his phone. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a second longer this time. He thought about telling the truth. Actually saying; yeah, I’m nervous and my head’s all over the place. With her, he could. But something in him instinctively pulled back, instinctively.
So instead, he typed:
i’m good.
He stared at the message for a second before hitting send. Even as it went through, he knew it wasn’t all the way true.
The restlessness came back twice as strong and texting wasn’t enough for him. Before he could overthink it, he hit her name and brought the phone up to his ear. He started pacing the bathroom again as it rang. Once. Twice. Three times. No answer.
He pulled the phone away, frowning slightly at the screen. He knew she had just been up. She had literally just texted him back. So what was she doing?
He waited a few seconds, like that would make a difference, then hit video call. It rang longer this time, but still nothing.
His jaw flexed, impatience began to mix with that anxious energy he had sitting in his chest. He exhaled sharply and dropped his head back for a second before looking at the phone again.
“C’mon,” he muttered under his breath.
He shot off another text.
answer the phone please.
The second it sent, he hit video call again, not even giving her time to respond. He stood there, watching it ring, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, free hand resting on the counter.
It rang and rang and just when he was about to hang up, the screen connected.
The lighting was low and her room still dark. She was laid up in bed with her hair wrapped, face soft with sleep, and eyes barely open as she adjusted the phone slightly.
Michael’s whole demeanor changed immediately. He propped his phone up against the counter, angling it so she could see him clearly. A small smile pulled at his mouth.
“There you go,” he said, voice lighter.
She didn’t say anything she just blinked slowly at the screen, clearly still waking up. Her expression was a mix between confusion and mild annoyance.
He shook his head a little amused, then reached for the hem of his shirt.
“What time you tryna get to the hotel?” he asked casually.
She let out a quiet sigh, shifting slightly under the covers. “Around ten,” she murmured, voice rough with sleep.
He hummed in response, lifting his shirt over his head and tossing it off to the side.
“You know, I been up for a few hours,” he added, almost like an afterthought.
Her brows pulled together slightly, eyes opening a bit more as she focused on the screen. “Why?” she asked, squinting like she was trying to read him.
He shrugged one shoulder, reaching for the waistband of his shorts. “I think I’m a little anxious,” he admitted, trying not to make a big deal out of it.
He pushed his shorts down his legs, stepping out of them, then glanced back at the screen. There was a small shift in his expression as a smirk creeped in.
“I can’t wait to see what you wearing tonight though,” he said.
She didn’t even entertain it.
“You can wait,” she shot back, barely lifting her head up but choosing to sink it deeper into the pillow.
That made him laugh, the sound filling the bathroom as he stood there now in just his boxer briefs and socks.
He straightened slightly, flexing his arms without even thinking about it, turning just enough toward the camera.
“You like what you see?” he asked, playful, knowing exactly what he was doing.
She let out a tired little laugh, not even opening her eyes fully this time. “Michael, please…” she mumbled, dragging his name out before letting her head turn slightly on the pillow.
He watched her for a second and shook his head. She looked like she was about to fall back asleep.
“Aye, wake up,” he called, reaching down to pull his socks off, then hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs.
She rolled her eyes, opening them again just in time to catch him stepping out of them.
“Really?” she muttered, not even sounding surprised.
He grinned, completely unbothered, then grabbed his phone off the counter.
“Don’t go back to sleep,” he said as he walked toward the shower with steam thick in the air.
He stepped inside, adjusting the angle of the phone carefully. He set it somewhere stable where he could still see her and she could still see him.
Water hit his skin, and he let out a quiet breath, tipping his head back for a second before looking back at the screen. She was watching him with her half-closed eyes. And at the sight of her, his chest felt a little less tight.
He tried to keep her up with him. As the water ran over him, Michael kept glancing back at the phone, checking to make sure she was still looking at him.
“Aye,” he called lightly over the sound of the water, running a hand over his face. “You up?”
There was a pause.
“…mhm,” she murmured, barely audible, her voice heavy, like she was falling back asleep even as she spoke.
He smiled to himself, shaking his head a little as he reached for the body wash. “You not even up for real,” he said, amused.
She didn’t argue or respond that time.
He decided to talk about random things, making little comments about the day like how long it was about to be and how he already knew he was going to be tired of people before the night even really started.
She’d hum here and there, giving him a quiet “yeah” or “mm” to let him know she heard him. Until she stopped completely. It took him a minute to notice.
He rinsed off, pushing the water out of his face before blinking it away and looking toward the phone again. She hadn’t moved at all. Her head was turned slightly into the pillow, and her breathing had evened out. She was asleep for real now.
Michael’s expression softened as he realized it.
He leaned a little closer to the phone, resting his hand against the tile as he looked at her. A small smile pulled at his mouth. He didn’t want to hang up, so he didn't. He liked having her there, even if they weren't talking. It settled something in him.
He finished up, turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel and dried himself off slowly, still glancing back at the phone every now and then because he didn’t want to lose sight of her.
But now with her asleep, his mind started back up again. Thinking about how the night would go and the expectations that would come because of it. He cleared his throat, like he could shake the thoughts loose, then wrapped the towel around his waist and walked back into the bedroom.
He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and pulled them on, letting them sit low on his hips, not bothering with a shirt yet. He wasn’t going anywhere for a while.
Most of the cast had gotten rooms at the same hotel that was closer to the venue. It was easier this way because it meant less running around.
He still had a lot time. A little too much time, honestly. Which meant he had more room for thinking.
So he got back to moving again.
He went to the kitchen and set the phone up against something on the counter, angling it just enough so he could see her. Then he started pulling small and quick things out.
He wanted to make something that wasn't going to be too complicated and was practically a snack. Especially after he cooked and didn't much of it earlier. He cooked on autopilot, the quiet clink of utensils filling the space. Every now and then he’d glance over to check on her.
Once everything was done, he plated it. Then leaned his hip against the counter as he ate a few bites, eyes flicking between his food and the screen. When he checked the time, his brows pulled together slightly. She needed to be up now. He wiped his hands off, stepping closer to the phone, picking it up carefully.
“Aye,” he called softly.
No response.
He tilted his head a little, watching her.
“Wunmi,” he tried again, voice gentle. “Wake up, Mama.”
She barely shifted, a soft sound leaving her like she was fighting it.
“You said you gotta get there by 10:00,” he reminded her quietly. “C’mon, you gotta get up. It's almost 9.”
It took her a minute, but Wunmi finally came to. Her face shifted, brows pulling slightly as she blinked herself fully awake. She adjusted the phone in her hand as she pushed herself up against the headboard.
“Okay, I’m up,” she muttered.
Michael leaned back against the counter, his plate long forgotten.
“Yeah, I see,” he said while smiling.
From that point on, they continued staying on the phone. He moved around his place while she moved around hers. She propped her phone up while she brushed her teeth and went back and forth between her closet and bathroom. She was pulling things out and putting things back. She spent most of the time talking to herself about her choices, and he listened.
She didn't have much to pack herself as most of her outfits were picked by her stylist. Michael made comments about what she picked, and teased her when she held up different options.
Made comments here and there. Teased her when she held up two options and clearly already knew which one she was going to pick.
“You not wearing that,” he said, squinting at the screen.
She sucked her teeth lightly, already turning back to the mirror. “Good thing I didn’t ask you.”
He laughed under his breath, shaking his head, but he didn’t miss the small smile that pulled at her lips in the reflection.
By the time she was fully dressed, the room around her was brighter and the energy was completely different from when she first answered. Michael had shifted from the kitchen to his living area. She moved with purpose now, grabbing her things and checking herself one last time before stepping away from the mirror.
She looked down when her phone buzzed.
“My car’s here.”
Michael nodded slightly, watching as she started gathering her bags. His eyes narrowed just a little as he noticed a particular bag in the group.
“What you doing with that?” he asked.
She didn’t even look at him, she just picked it up like it was any other bag.
“I needed something to put my stuff in,” she said, casually.
His smirk deepened.
“Why you taking that bag, though,” he replied. She knew exactly what he was talking about.
He had gotten her that bag as a gift. He saw it and knew she would like it, so he bought it. It had turned into her overnight bag for when she came to visit him.
She finally looked at the phone then, rolling her eyes as she grabbed it.
“It’s just a bag, Michael,” she said, sounding annoyed. “Relax.”
He just watched her with that same knowing look sitting on his face.
“Mm,” he hummed deciding not to push it further.
She shook her head slightly while heading toward the door, balancing her things as she moved.
“I’ll see you later. I'm about to get in the car,” she said, adjusting the phone in her hand as she stepped out.
There was a small pause on his end like he wanted to say something else, maybe stop her, but instead he just kept quiet.
“Okay,” he said softly.
It almost sounded like he didn’t want to hang up and she caught it immediately. Her expression softened as she stepped outside, the daylight hitting her beautifully.
“Everything’s gonna be okay,” she told him steadily and sure.
He looked at her for a second. Then nodded, a hesitant smile coming through.
“Yeah, you're right,” he said.
“Bye,” he added after a beat.
“Bye,” she replied.
The call ended and the screen went dark. And just like that, the quiet came back, it didn’t feel nearly as heavy as it had earlier.
She slid into the car, pulling the door shut behind her, her bag settling beside her as the driver pulled off.
Wunmi's hotel room was filled with controlled chaos. Racks were being rolled in and out while people moved with a purpose.
Now, a few hours later, she was settled in her chair, a silk robe wrapped around her, legs crossed comfortably as her team moved around her.
Her hairstylist stood behind her, hands working steadily as they parted and smoothed her hair. She was working on getting the hair slicked down before starting the braids. They were going for two long, thick braided ponytails stacked vertically, one above the other. Big gold hoops and medallions covered the length of the braids. It was going to be perfect with the dress.
Her eyes flicked over to it hanging on the rack across the room, untouched. Just looking at it made something flutter in her chest.
She looked away just as quickly.
“You're starting to overthink again,” her stylist teased lightly.
Wunmi let out a soft laugh. “I can't help it,” she admitted, shaking her head slightly.
“Mm-hmm, I can tell,” her makeup artist chimed in, stepping closer. “We not doing that today though.”
“Exactly. This is your moment,” someone else added from across the room.
Wunmi smiled at that, her hands resting loosely in her lap as she let them work.
The room instantly filled with random conversation. She added her own comments here and there, her voice soft and her accent slipping through naturally with every word.
On the outside, she looked calm, but underneath it all she was a ball of nerves. Because in truth, she never expected this.
Awards season was a whirlwind of interviews, screenings, and conversations that she never thought she’d be part of. Rooms filled with people she’d admired for years now speaking to her like she was one of them. And tonight was the absolute peak of it.
She was truly taking it all in, because more than anything, she felt grateful. Grateful to be there. Grateful for the film and the way it had been received. She was grateful for the doors it had opened without her even realizing they were there to begin with. And she felt proud of not just herself, but of him.
Her lips pressed together for a second, a small smile forming before she could stop it.
She had watched it all happen. From being on set where they worked long days and he worked overtime to figure things out to the press tour where she learned so much about how much work he actually put in to now.
She’d said it publicly more times than she could count about how proud she was of him, how much she believed in him, and how none of this surprised her. But she’d said it privately too. Far too many times to count.
Her hairstylist stepped back, checking the braids before continuing to add more gold pieces to the already heavy style.
“You excited?” someone asked from the corner of the room.
Wunmi blinked, coming back fully, then smiled.
“Yeah, I think so,” she said, softly but sure.
Time kept moving and her hair was finally finished. Her hairstylist moved her fingers down each braid, making sure that everything secure and was placed just right. Wunmi sat still, occasionally tilting her head when asked.
At the same time, her makeup artist had started working. Every now and then, she’d glance at the mirror to see her face coming together.
Her hair had taken a little over an hour. Her makeup had taken a bit longer, closer to another hour and a half.
“Okay, look at me,” her makeup artist said softly, stepping back.
Wunmi opened her eyes fully, looking at herself in the mirror.
Her hairstylist let out a quiet “yeah,” while reaching for her phone. “We need content, right now.”
The makeup artist laughed, grabbing her phone too.
Wunmi shook her head, smiling as they both circled her, snapping pictures, taking short videos, telling her to turn her head, look up, look down.
She let them have it, before standing up slowly from the chair. The weight of her hair became more noticeable as the two braids fell down her back, brushing against the top of her butt when she straightened fully.
She adjusted her robe only to feel her phone buzz in her hand. She glanced down at it absentmindedly at first, but the second look made her focus in. It was Michael.
can I come by before I get ready?
Her brows lifted as she stared at the message.
No. I don’t want to be late for the carpet.
Her phone started ringing almost immediately. She sighed under her breath, stepping away from the group.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, slipping toward the bathroom.
She closed the door behind her and answered the video call. The camera connected, and there he was sitting in the back of a car, dressed down, sunlight cutting through the window beside him.
Wunmi didn’t give him much to look at. She set the phone down on the counter, angled just enough so the ceiling was in frame, but not her.
Michael frowned instantly.
“The hell? Why I can't see you,” he said, leaning forward slightly.
“I’m not ready yet.”
He sucked his teeth, shaking his head. “I need to see your face.”
She didn’t even look at the phone. “No.”
“Wunmi—”
“No means no, Michael,” she repeated, a little firmer.
There was a pause on his end.
“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, leaning back in his seat.
She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see it.
“You’re going to be late if you don’t go get dressed,” she said, glancing at the time.
“I’ll be alright,” he replied like it wasn’t a concern at all.
She shook her head slightly, already moving toward the door. “I really gotta go.”
Another short pause.
“Okay,” he said.
And then, a soft “I love you.” slipped out without him thinking too much about it.
They didn’t say it all the time, but it was never a surprise when one of them did say it.
She leaned her hip against the counter, letting out a small breath before responding.
“I love you too.”
It came out easy for her too. Even though she knew what this really was. She knew there were other women and other situations, but something about what they had was so honest yet complicated. They coudln't help but to love each other.
“I’ll see you later,” she said quietly.
“Yeah,” he replied.
The call ended.
Wunmi looked at the phone before picking it up, unlocking the door, and stepping back into the room. When she stepped back in, all eyes were on her.
“There she is,” her stylist said, moving toward the rack where the dress hung.
Carefully, they took it down and out of the bag. It was a gorgeous black and gold, kaftan-inspired dress that was tailore to perfection. There was enough structure to give it form while still allowing it to flow. The fabric moved when they lifted it the light caught on the gold detailing that was threaded throughout.
Wunmi stepped forward, letting them carefully guide her into it, trying to be mindful of her hair and makeup. Once the dress was on, it settled on her beautifully.
There was a deep V in the front dipped so low, it showed a good amount of her large chest. The gold detailing that traced along the neckline, drew attention exactly where it needed to. The back mirrored the front with another deep cut that exposed the smooth skin of her back.
Her stylist walked up to her with a small bottle of shimmering body oil in her hand. Hands began to lightly oil her down in all of her exposed areas. The oil caught the light, giving her skin a soft glow like she was lit from within.
Then she put on her signature fragrance, spraying just enough that everyone around her could smell her.
Her stylist helped her step into her heels, adjusting the straps. They made her walk a few steps in them to see is the dress moved how it was supposed to. And it did.
Everyone immediately began to take pictures and videos of her in her complete look. They gathered her things quickly after that.
“The car’s here,” someone called out.
Wunmi grabbed what she needed, adjusting the front of her dress once more before heading toward the door, her team close behind her.
They guided her carefully with one person slightly ahead and another behind, making sure the dress didn’t drag and that nothing caught.
When they got outside, the car was waiting by the curb.
“Watch your step,” someone said softly, opening the door for her.
She reached out, placing her hand in theirs as she lifted the dress slightly, preparing to step in, and that’s when she saw him.
Michael's team was surrounding him, trying to get him inside so he could start getting ready, but he wasn't paying them any attention. His eyes had found Wunmi in the small bustle of moving people and it felt like time stood still.
“Mike, come on,” someone from his team said, trying to usher him forward.
He barely reacted. His gaze dragged over her slowly taking in the hair and the way the dress fell on her. His brows lifted slightly in surprise and appreciation.
“Damn…” he muttered under his breath.
Wunmi caught the look on his face. And as she fully stepped into the car, their eyes met. Her smile turned into more of a playful smirk. She gave him a quick wink, then slid into her seat and the door closed behind her.
Michael stood there for a second longer than he needed to, the moment lingering even after the car pulled off.
“You good?” someone nudged him.
He blinked, like he was snapping back into his body.
“Yeah,” he said, but his tone was distracted.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he reached for it like he already knew. When he opened the message, he couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his face.
Good luck babe 😉❤️.
He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. He locked his phone and slid it back into his pocket, the smirk still sitting there as he finally let his team guide him inside. He didn’t text back.
He followed, but there was a sharpness in his energy like he was completely restless.
They got to his room and instantly got to work. Garment bags were opened, his shoes were set out, his jewelry laid across the table. Someone yelled for time checks so they would all be aware. He could barely sit down good before hands were on him.
Wunmi leaned back into the seat of the car, one hand resting lightly against her lap to keep the dress in place while the other held her phone loosely.
There was a bit of traffic ahead of them. It made everything stretched out and take more time than it should. The car would move, stop, move again, then stop.
Every now and then, her thumb tapped her phone screen awake to check the time…and once or twice to see if he had responded.
He hadn’t, but she didn't take it a certain way. She knew he was getting ready and people were probably rushing him along.
By the time they pulled up to the venue, it was close to 2:30.
The door opened, and there was a lot of noise and camera flashes. It was a mix of voices yelling names, shouting directions, and moving people out of the way.
Her team moved quickly, stepping out first, then helping her from the car.
“Watch your step… okay. Beautiful.”
The second her heels hit the ground, she turned it on. Her posture straightened and a genuine sweet smile graced her face. She adjusted the front of her dress before stepping forward onto the carpet. The cameras immediately lit up at her entrance.
“Wunmi! Over here!”
“This way! Right here!”
She moved naturally, like she’d done this before, even though part of her still felt like she didn't fit.
With every turn, the gold in her hair caught the light exactly how it was setup to. The dress flowed when she stepped, the sheer of the fabric catching just as much.
“Can we get a turn?”
She angled slightly, letting them get the back, the deep cut showing her skin, the shimmer on her skin glowing under the flashes.
After a few more stops, her team gently guided her toward the end where the interviews were set up.
“Wunmi, how are you feeling tonight?” one interviewer asked.
She smiled, grounding herself before answering.
“Good. Really good,” she said with her accent slipping through. “I’m just taking it all in, honestly.”
“What does it mean to be here?”
She let out a small breath, glancing down for a second before looking back up.
“It means everything,” she admitted. “I didn’t expect all of this. So I’m just really grateful.”
They asked about the film and her castmates. And every time his name came up, she looked proud.
“Michael's worked really hard for this. I'm really proud of him,” she said at one point.
They wrapped her up after a few minutes and let her move along. From stepping onto the carpet to finishing interviews, it had only taken about twenty minutes. But it didn’t feel like it. Time seemed to blur together at this point.
Inside the theater the lights were soft as people were finding their seats and greeting each other. Wunmi was guided to her seat, adjusting her dress as she sat.
There was still about an hour before the show would actually start.
She crossed her legs slightly, hands resting in her lap before reaching for her phone again. The screen lit up and still no new messages, so she checked time.
She was quietly hoping that he wouldn't be late.
Michael had been in his suite long enough that he should be dressed and ready to go.
He sat on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees, phone in his hands, staring at nothing in particular. The TV was on low in the background, but he wasn’t really listening.
“Mike, we gotta get you ready,” one of his stylists called from across the room.
“I know,” he said automatically, but he didn’t get up.
His chest felt tight again. His face was calm and posture relaxed, but internally, it felt like he was holding his breath and couldn’t fully let it out. He rubbed his hands together once, slow, then stood up.
“Alright, let’s do it.”
They unzipped his garment bag, and pulled his suit out. His team laid out his David Yurman jewelry pieces that he had to shoot content for.
“We still got to do that video while you change,” someone reminded him while setting up a phone on a tripod.
He nodded, rolling his shoulders back. “Yeah, let’s get it.”
He spent the video putting on jewelry, making everything looked right on his skin. He was basically going through the motions at this point. His mind kept drifting back to Wunmi. He couldn't wait to see her up close. He really wanted to call her because his thoughts were running wild, and her voice would just soothe him. It had worked well that morning.
Now, the closer it got to showtime, the worse that feeling in his chest got. And he knew she’d calm it. His hand twitched slightly, like he might reach for his phone right then, but he didn’t.
“Alright, we got everything. You can change,” someone said, stepping back.
He exhaled quietly, nodding, then moved toward the suit. He put everything on piece by piece. His hands fixed things as he moved, smoothing out anything that didn't sit right on him.
His family moved around the room too, getting themselves together.
“You look good, baby,” his mom said, stepping closer to adjust something near his collar.
He gave her a small smile. “Thank you.”
“You ready to go?” someone else asked.
“Yeah.”
It wasn’t fully true, but he was as ready as he was going to be.
“Car’s downstairs,” his team called out.
They grabbed what they needed, did one last check, then started heading out of the suite.
In the hallway it felt like everything was closing in as they moved toward the elevator. Michael stayed mostly quiet while conversations happened around him. His mind wouldn't stop moving.
They got downstairs to the sprinter that was waiting on the curb. His family piled in first, then him, then his tea. He slid into his seat, leaning back slightly as the door shut behind them.
He let his head rest back against the seat as the van took off, eyes drifting closed for just a moment before opening again.
The sprinter pulled up to the theater, and everything was loud and chaotic. Cameras were flashing nonstop and people were moving around like crazy.
Michael straightened in his seat, running his hands down the front of his suit to ground himself before stepping out.
The door slid open and he stepped out to a wave of people yelling and screaming for him. From paparazzi to interviewers to fans. It was a competition of who could get his attention first.
His team moved him toward the carpet, keeping things tight. They didn’t have time to waste.
He hit his marks quickly. He did a few solo shots. The rapid flashes hit him from every angle possible. For the next few shots, his family joined him. Everyone had warm and excited smiles on their faces. The moment stretched on until they were being ushered further down.
“Alright, we gotta go,” someone from his team reminded him.
He nodded and stepped forward.
As they got closer to the section where press and fans blurred together, the volume went up to another level. People were yelling his nameincredibly loud now. Fans were leaning over the barricade with their phones out, trying to catch a glimpse of him.
He briefly lifted his hand to acknowledge them, but he didn’t slow down much. He couldn't, he was already pushing for time. His team tightened around him, trying to firmly get him inside.
“Michael!”
The voice cut through just enough to catch his attention.
He instinctively glanced over to see one of the interviewers beckoning him over. She was someone he'd interviewed with a few times before. He actually liked her, and she always remained respectful and professional while keeping things fun. She was waving to him to catch him before he passed her by completely.
He hesitated for half a second, then broke away from the group around him.
“Hey,” he said quickly, stepping over to her and pulling her into a brief hug.
“Hi! You look amazing,” she said while smiling.
“Thank you,” he replied, already starting to step back.
But before he could fully pull away, she lifted the mic slightly.
“How are you feeling tonight?”
“I'm just grateful and happy to here,” he said simply.
And then he was gone. His team was pulling him back in, steering him in the direction of the doors.
When he got inside, he instantly started to scan the room. People were buzzing around him, barely able to sit still, but he wasn't really seeing any of that. He was looking for her. And it didn't take long. Once they got closer to his section, he was able to spot her almost immediately.
She was seated a few rows behind where he was supposed to sit.
His steps slowed at the sight of her.
He sat down and started fidgeting with things on his body out of habit more than anything else. His mom settled in next to him.
“You okay?”
“I’m good,” he said automatically.
She looked at him, then smiled to herself like she knew better.
“Mhm,” she hummed while turning her attention forward.
Michael leaned back into his seat, letting out a breath through his nose.
And he got that feeling you get when someone's looking at you. He could feel her staring through the back of his head.
His shoulders tightened as his hands rested against his thighs while he stared straight ahead. Michael didn’t trust himself to turn around right now.
His phone buzzed softly in his lap. He glanced down.
Breathe.
He inhaled, then exhaled slowly. His shoulders dropped his shoulders the tension in him easing. He rubbed his thumb lightly along the edge of his phone before locking it again and setting it face down against his leg.
The lights dimmed in the room as a signal that the show was about to start.
His leg bounced once before he caught that he was doing it. He pressed his foot flat against the ground to still it.
In all of everything that had been building in him all night, he hadn’t even really thought about how she might be feeling. He hadn't thought beyond how she helped to calm him down and be his anchor. But this was her night too. It was her first nomination as well and the first time that she had been in this room.
He quickly glanced back at her, but she was looking forward past him. She was smiling, taking everything in.
He cleared his throat softly, and her eyes flicked to him almost immediately. Her expression melted just a touch when she saw him. There were no real words or gestures between them, but they knew what the other was saying. He turned back around giving himself a small nod, because what they just did would be enough for now.
The lights dimmed further and the room quieted. Conan O'Brien, the host for the night, walked out on stage to a round of applause.
Michael sat up a little straighter, hands resting on his legs, eyes forward.
The night had officially started.
Conan’s monologue rolled on, filling the room with easy laughter. It was the kind of opening that loosened the tension. Michael laughed where he was supposed to and smiled when the cameras were set on him.
The music cue started and the room subtly reset.
“And now, let's get into the the first award of the night. Introducing…” Conan started.
On stage, the presenters walked out, smiling and playing their part as the room applauded again. Michael barely registered who they were and what they were saying. His focus had shifted to behind him.
“For the incredible performances that moved us, challenged us, and stayed with us…”
The clips started rolling, one by one. Each of the nominees' names were called and their performances highlighted.
“Wunmi Mosaku. Sinners.”
Her face lit up the screen. It was a short clip of one of her lines from the shack scene. Michael felt pride and hope go through him because he knew what she gave to play Annie. And the. energy she put into it.
The room clapped as the clips ended, the camera cutting back to the presenters as one of them opened the envelope.
Michael’s breathing slowed, then stalled. He didn’t realize he’d stopped until it was too late.
“And the Oscar goes to…”
That pause went on longer than it probably was.
“…Amy Madigan. Weapons.”
Applause filled the room instantly. People stood, clapped, and celebrated.
Michael felt his heart sank straight into his chest, but not for himself, for her. His hands came together automatically, clapping like everyone else, but there was no rhythm to it. He had to force it.
He didn’t turn around to look at Wunmi. He didn't trust what might show on his face if he did. He swallowed, jaw tightening as he kept clapping. His eyes fixed were on the stage where Amy was walking up, smiling and emotional.
Michael nodded slightly to himself, trying to stay present. His hands slowed, then stopped as the applause settled. He leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose, but it didn’t ease anything. If anything, it made that anxiety creep back in.
His fingers tapped once against his leg before he stilled them, forcing himself to sit still and to breathe like she told him to earlier.
The second they cut to commercial, people stood up to stretch and talk. Michael stayed in his seat trying to collect himself. He barely looked around, but it didn't take long for him to feel a presence right next to him. He looked up and there she was.
Wunmi stood angled toward him, one hand resting behind him on the back of his seat, the other relaxed at her side. She was smiling down at him.
He looked at her like he needed to make sure she was actually okay.
Then his eyes checked around quickly, to make sure cameras or phones or people weren't paying too much attention to them. And when it he saw the it was as clear as it was going to get, he reached up, took her hand without hesitation, and brought it to his lips for a kiss.
He stood up while holding onto her and pulled her in close before she could even say anything. His arms wrapped firmly around her.
"You good?" He leaned in slightly, his voice low against her ear.
Wunmi pulled back just enough to look at him. She nodded.
“I’m fine. I already expected it,” she said, calmly. There was no bitterness in her tone.
His gaze softened slightly, eyes moving over her face again like he was seeing her for the first time all over again.
“You look beautiful,” he said quietly.
She smiled at that.
“Thank you,” she replied, her hand coming up to his chest, smoothing lightly over his buttoned jacket.
Her eyes moved past him, her body angling slightly as she leaned just enough to look around him.
“I really came over to see your mom,” she said her tone far more playful now.
Michael blinked once, caught off guard, before letting out a quiet breath that almost turned into a laugh.
“Yeah, okay,” he muttered.
She slipped past him, the fabric of her dress brushing lightly against him as she went.
“Ms. Donna!” she squealed softly. Her voice lifted in a way it hadn’t with him.
Michael’s mom lit up instantly.
“Hey baby!” she said, standing up without hesitation, pulling Wunmi into a warm hug.
Michael watched them with a small smile settling on his face.
His family had taken such a liking to her. His mom loved her, she loved them. From the first time she saw them together and noticed how they interacted with each other, she had been on him about getting with her ever since.
He shook his head slightly to himself, watching as they pulled apart, his mom held onto Wunmi’s hands for a second longer as they talked.
“You look so gorgeous,” his mom said, looking her over.
“Thank you. You look amazing,” Wunmi smiled.
They talked for a minute, giving each other small updates on things. Then Wunmi glanced toward the stage briefly, noticing things were about to pick back up.
“I’m gonna go sit before they start again,” she said.
“Alright, baby,” his mom replied, giving her hands one last squeeze. “I’ll see you after.”
Wunmi nodded, then turned slightly, her eyes glancing back to Michael for just a second, then she was gone.
The night went on and what started out as feeling like minutes, slowly turned into hours. Anxiety webbed it's way through the rhythm of the show.
Michael tried to track everything happening, and for some of it he was able to.
When Ryan’s name was called, the entire room lit up. Michael was on his feet before he fully registered it, clapping hard with pride written all over his face as Ryan made his way to the stage. His speech was moving as he thanked the cast, the crew, talked about the story and the intention behind it.
Then Miles' performance got people up and moving. His voice filled the room, and the recreation of the juke joint brought Michael back.
Autumn’s win followed later, and that one felt just as big. Michael clapped, looking toward her with genuine respect as she stood at that podium, speaking directly to the women in the room. You could feel it ripple through the audience.
By the time they got to the final stretch of the night, Michael felt twisted up. The closer it got to his category, the more everything else started to blur. Conversations around him dulled. Applause felt distant. His body was there, but his mind kept circling.
His mom’s hand found his. She didn’t say anything, she just held it.
“And now the presenters for best actor,” Conan’s voice carried through the room again.
Everything in him shut down. Michael swallowed, his throat dry, his hand slightly tightening around his mom’s without meaning to. He exhaled.
Then the presenter walked out. Words he barely processed as they started introducing the nominees. The clips rolled.
“Michael B. Jordan. Sinners.”
The screen filled with his face. It was a clip of the scene of the twins getting into their cars to split off. The reaction in the room was more than he expected. It startled him just a little, his brows pulling together slightly as he watched it play out. Then it moved on to the rest of the nominees.
Michael’s breathing went shallow. He didn’t even realize he had stopped inhaling properly until the clips ended.
The presenter held the envelope and it felt like time slowed down.
“And the Oscar goes to…”
That pause felt longer than anything else that night.
Michael’s fingers curled slightly against his mom’s hand.
“…Michael B. Jordan.”
The room erupted in loud applause. People rose to their feet giving him a standing ovation. But his brain hadn’t caught up to what his ears had just heard.
His mom’s grip tightened instantly, her face lighting up, smiling wide as she turned toward him.
“Baby!” she said, her voice breaking through everything.
Michael exhaled hard. A breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding for the last…who knew how long. His shoulders dropped slightly, his head dipping as it finally hit him. He won.
Delroy's hands hit his shoulder, clapping him firmly, pride clear on his face.
Behind him, Wunmi was up on her feet, clapping and smiling. Her cheering carried through the noise, excitement written all over her.
Ryan practically jogging up the aisle before Michael even fully stood up. They met halfway, pulling each other into a tight hug.
“Let’s go,” Ryan said into his ear, gripping him hard.
Michael nodded, but he still looked dazed like he was trying to catch up. He turned to hug Delroy next. And while his arms were wrapped around the older man, his eyes found hers.
Wunmi stood with a wide smile while their eyes locked. She looked not only proud, but happy and relieved. She reached her hand out toward him as he naturally moved closer to her.
But Michael didn’t want to just have that. As soon as he let go of Delroy he moved a bit so the seats weren't a problem. He pulled Wunmi into him, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He needed something real to hold on to so that he knew this was real. And she was as real as he would get.
He tucked his face slightly into her shoulder, and for a moment everything else faded away. He breathed her in and all that was left was her…his lifeline.
“Go,” she murmured softly near his ear.
He pulled back slowly and that’s when they could see that glisten in his eyes. He was holding back all his emotions. He nodded, trying to pull himself together.
Michael started toward the stage, the walk feeling like a blur of time. He didn't know if it was too long or too short. He barely registered the steps, the lights, the applause. It all just mixed together. The standing ovation hadn't died down, and every eye was on him.
He shook the presenter’s hand, accepted the Oscar, and the second it was placed in his hands he looked down at it. The weight of the solid gold sitting in his hand felt surreal. He just stared at it like he was trying to process how it even got in his hand.
The audience was still on their feet, clapping and celebrating him.
He stepped up to the mic, and cleared his throat as his grip tightened around the Oscar.
“Man,” he breathed out, a small, disbelieving smile was on his face.
A few soft laughs echoed through the audience.
He shook his head lightly, eyes dropping for a second before he looked back up.
“God is good.”
The room responded with applause and agreement.
Michael gave a longer pause this time. He was trying to gather anything that felt right to say, because he hadn't planned for this at all. He was too busy being in his head about to really think about what he would actually do when he won.
He glanced out into the crowd, scanning until he found his mom front and center. She was smiling at him with that smile she gave when she was incredibly proud of him. His eyes softened when they made eye contact.
“Mama, what’s up,” he said, voice lighter now, a real smile breaking through.
The room reacted warmly as the camera cut to her.
He nodded like he needed that connection before he could keep going.
“My dad came all the way from Ghana to be here tonight,” he continued. “My brother, my sister…I love y’all. Thank you.”
He swallowed, shifting his weight, still holding onto the Oscar like it might disappear if he loosened his grip.
“I gotta thank Warner Brothers for betting on original ideas, on culture, on stories like this.”
His eyes flicked toward Ryan.
“And Ryan…” he exhaled, shaking his head a little. “Man. Thank you for being more than a collaborator. For being a friend. For trusting me and giving me the space to be seen. I don’t take that lightly.”
His voice caught at the end of that. He took a breath.
“My incredible cast…” His eyes moved until they landed on her.
“…Wunmi,” he said, her name coming out so soft. “Thank you so much for giving Smoke the opportunity to be him.”
The camera cut to her briefly. She was smiling wide, glowing in a way that felt just as loud as the applause around her.
“And Hailee, thank you for giving Stack the space to shine.”
He nodded, almost to himself, like he was checking things off, trying not to lose his place.
“I’m—” he started, then stopped, letting out a breath that almost turned into a laugh. “I didn’t…I didn’t think I’d be up here, I’m not even gonna lie.”
The audience chuckled softly.
He shook his head, blinking a few times, the emotion sitting right there in his eyes now.
“Thank you to everybody who saw something in me, who bet on me, who believed in me when I was still figuring it out,” his voice was stronger now. “And to the ones who still do, I just wanna keep making you proud. And to the fans, thank you for showing up once, twice, three, four, five times,” he added, a small smile pulling at his face again. “Thank you. You made this movie what it is. I love you.”
He looked down at the Oscar one more time, then back up. He stepped back from the mic, still looking slightly dazed, eyes glassy, a breath leaving him like he was finally coming back into his body.
The applause swelled again as he walked off stage, gripping the Oscar tightly, his expression a battle of disbelief and relief.
As he disappeared behind the curtain, the show cut to commercial, but the energy in the room didn’t drop.
The second he stepped off stage, hands were on him, pulling him in different directions all at once. Someone from production was saying something in his ear, but he barely caught it. His focus kept dropping back down to the Oscar in his hand.
It was real. This was all real.
“Right this way,” someone said, gently steering him through the side area and back toward the seating.
When they got close, people were standing, leaning into the aisle, reaching for him.
He barely had time to sit before he was surrounded giving out hug after hug. A smile stretched across his face so naturally it almost hurt.
“I’m so proud of you,” His mom tugged him in for a tight hug, her voice emotional.
“I love you,” he replied, holding onto her just a second longer before someone else was pulling him in.
It didn’t stop, but through all of it, he just kept smiling so big and real.
Every now and then, he’d glance down at the Oscar, almost like he needed to double check that it was still there, still his. His thumb brushed over the engraved plate area that was still blank for now, a small shake of his head following like he still couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
The rest of the show moved quickly. He clapped. He laughed. He stayed present in a way he hadn’t been able to earlier all the way until the end.
Once it was over, he was led out of the main room and into another area for the press conference. When that wrapped, he was moved to the larger reception room where everyone else was. People were mingling, and conversations flowed easier now that the pressure was off. Michael stepped into the room with his family close by, still holding onto the Oscar.
The group moved together through the space until they reached the engraving station. He handed the award over carefully and watched in disbelief as it was engraved. The room around him faded and he swallowed, blinking a few times as he watched the letters take shape. His sister rubbed his back to help ease him back into reality. When they handed it back, he held onto it tighter.
He moved through the room after that, greeting people, accepting more congratulations as the night continued.
But even in the midst of that, he was searching until he saw her across the room. Wunmi stood tucked into a quieter corner with her team. Her posture relaxed. She was talking and similing with them.
Michael’s gaze lingered, then he turned back to his family.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
They followed his line of sight immediately.
“Yeah, we know where you going,” his brother added.
He shook his head, trying to brush it off, but the small smile on his face gave him away. He turned around and walked off.
When he got close enough, he reached out. His hand found the warm bare skin of her back, and he pressed there gently enough to pull her attention without interrupting too much.
Wunmi turned almost instantly. She had a small portable fan in her hand, angled up toward her face. A few loose pieces of her braids shifted slightly from the airflow, the gold catching the light every time she moved. Her expression brightened as soon as she saw him.
“Hey,” she said, smiling as she stepped into him.
He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close to him, Oscar still in one hand. He didn't let the award stop him from holding her they he needed to.
Her arms slid around him just as easily, one hand still holding the fan loosely at her side as the other came up along his back.
And then he dropped his head right into her neck on instinct. Even though he had his family, she was the only place that he truly needed at the moment.
Wunmi felt a small shift in his breathing the longer he stayed there. His body settled heavier into hers. A quiet sniffle came out. Her expression softened even more as her hand moved slowly up and down his back to comfort him. She let him have that moment to feel it all.
“I’m so happy for you,” she murmured softly, her voice low enough for it to stay between them. “I’m so proud of you. You deserve it.”
His grip tightened, because he needed to anchor himself. Then he pressed a kiss against her neck. He pulled back after that, just enough to look at her. His eyes were glossy, the emotion still sitting right there on the surface.
“Thank you, baby,” he said quietly.
Her smile widened as she really looked at him.
He kept one hand on her. His fingers rested lightly against her waist now, thumb brushing just slightly against the fabric of her dress feeling the need to stay connected.
And then he just looked at her. His eyes said everything he couldn't quite say in a room this public. Wunmi saw everything that had built up over all of this time. She held his gaze with her own knowing one.
His eyes dropped down to her lips, and he licked his own while staring at them.
A small smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. She lifted her hand, patting lightly against his chest, leaning in just enough so her voice didn’t travel.
“Later, baby,” she whispered.
He exhaled softly, a small smile breaking through as he nodded, pulling himself back into the moment.
“Okay,” he said under his breath. “You going out after?”
“Yeah. I have to go back to the hotel to change.”
“Okay, me too. It might take me a minute, though,” he said.
“That’s fine,” she replied easily.
Michael noticed the fan in her hand and how she angled it toward herself while talking to him.
“You hot?” he asked. His face scrunched slightly, concern slipping through his voice.
She nodded once. “It’s a lot in here.”
He looked around briefly as if he could fix it somehow.
Then back at her.
“Go back to the hotel and get some rest,” he murmured, pulling her into another hug, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She nodded. “Okay.”
But when he pulled back, he caught the reluctant look in her eyes. He held her gaze, his hand coming up to pat her back lightly.
“Go,” he said softly.
She stepped back and he let her go, even though he clearly didn't really want to.
Wunmi didn’t linger for long. Her team gathered around her, gently ushering her through the room, keeping things moving before she could get pulled into more conversations and congratulations that weren’t even hers to carry tonight.
“The car’s ready when you are,” her publicist said softly, leaning in so she could hear over the noise.
Wunmi nodded, adjusting the fan so it was angled toward her neck this time. The room really had gotten too warm with the combination of bodies and lights, it was just too much.
The second she got outside though, the cool night air was a welcome refresh.
She let out a small breath as someone opened the car door for her. Her team helped her into the car, carefully holding the fabric of her dress. Once she was settled into the seat she let out a heavy exhale and leaned back against the seat.
“Jesus, it was hot in there,” she chuckled under her breath.
With her head leaned back, she closed her eyes as the car pulled off.
The ride wasn’t long, but it was enough to settle her body and calm her down.
When they got back to the hotel, they moved quickly so they would have some time. It didn't take but a few short minutes to get her to her suite. The second the door closed behind them, she slipped her heels off with a quiet groan, flexing her toes against the floor.
“Thank God,” she muttered, earning a few soft laughs from her team.
“Alright, let’s get you out of this,” her stylist said while moving toward her.
Wunmi stood in the center of the room as they helped her take everything off. They started with her hair by removing each of the gold pieces and setting them on the table nearby. They kept her braids in, so she could have a style for the rest of the night. Then they carefully helped her out of her dress and hung it up.
Wunmi reached for the robe draped over the chair nearby, slipped it on, and tied it loosely around her waist.
She rolled her shoulders back once, then twice, letting her body settle fully now that she wasn’t being held up by structure and styling.
“You want to start getting ready now or?” her stylist asked.
Wunmi shook her head gently.
“Give me a second. I just need a quick nap,” she said.
“Alright,” her publicist said. “Forty-five minutes?”
“Yeah,” Wunmi nodded, moving toward the bed.
She picked up her phone, setting an alarm before placing it on the nightstand. Then she climbed into the bed, pulling the covers over herself. Her body sank into the mattress almost immediately, exhaustion finally catching up now that she had allowed it to.
The car pulled up to the In-N-Out not too far from the venue, and there were already dozens of people outside. He stepped out of the sprinter with the Oscar still in his hand and there was an immediate reaction. Cheers broke out from inside and outside almost at the same time.
He smiled so easily it was like he was made for this life. He lifted the Oscar slightly as he walked in, almost as a silent acknowledgment, and the place got louder.
“Appreciate y’all,” he said as he moved through the crowd.
People were reaching out wanting to touch him and get a picture with him.
When he got to the counter, the staff was just as excited.
“Congratulations!” someone behind the register said, already smiling wide.
“Thank you,” he replied, leaning slightly on the counter.
He ordered quickly and nothing about it seemed as normal as it should. While he waited, he leaned back against the counter, glancing around the restaurant. People were watching him, whispering, taking pictures and videos from a distance.
When his number was called, he stepped forward, grabbing the tray carefully, balancing it in one hand while the other still held onto the Oscar. They found a table tucked off just enough to give him a little space, but not completely. He sat down, setting the tray in front of him, placing the Oscar right beside it on the table.
His photographer stepped in with his camera ready.
“Mike, you ready?”
He nodded, shifting slightly in his seat, resting his forearms on the table. One hand lightly gripping the Oscar, angling it just enough. He smirked slightly, shaking his head as the camera kept going. He couldn’t believe he was part of the tradition now.
“Aight, we gotta head out so you can change,” someone said.
Michael nodded, taking one last sip of his drink before standing up, grabbing the Oscar. He gave one last look around the place, smiling and waving to a few more people as they called out to him.
“Congrats again!”
“Appreciate it!” he called back.
Michael arrived to the Vanity Fair party in a brown suit that fit him perfectly, and a pair of retro orange shades to top the look off. And of course, the Oscar never left his hand. It was practically an extension of his body now.
He moved through the room with confidence, starting conversations and accepting congratulations from his peers. Hugs and compliments came from all directions.
Across the room, Wunmi was pushing through the crowd as well. She was pulling a different kind of attention. Her and her dress caught everyone's eyes. The dress was a beautiful deep orange silk with a slit in her leg that revealed just enough when she walked.
She greeted people with ease, dipping into soft conversation. Her presence was calmer than his, but just as magnetic.
When their paths crossed, they stood close together, hoping not to draw too much attention to themselves.
“You good?” his voice was low as his eyes took her in.
She smiled. “I’m good.”
His eyes dropped briefly to her dress and the way it fit on.
“Yeah, you look good,” he muttered, almost like he was talking to himself.
“Thank you,” she smirked giving him a playful side-eye.
They stayed close for a while, but they soon got pulled into separate conversations. Going back to that routine of talking and conversing with those around them. But after a while, it got old. There were too many boring, reptitive conversations, and too much standing around.
When they met back up, Michael was quick to try to remedy their situation.
“You tryna stay here?” he asked.
Wunmi didn’t even hesitate. She shook her head lightly, a small laugh escaping her.
“No.”
He smirked, knowing the answer before he asked.
“Me neither. I think people are headed to the Gold party. You wanna head there?”
“Sure.”
They left just as they had arrived…separate. Michael left first, doing his round quicly and getting a few last minute picture. Wunmi stayed a few minutes longer as she had gotten pulled into getting updates on people she hadn't seen in a while.
When the two actually got to Beyoncé and Jay-Z's Gold Party, the vibe was just what they had been looking for. The space itself felt more exclusive and actually protected. For the first time all day, they could actually breathe.
Michael spotted her not too long after arriving.
Of course, he had to go through a few people first to get to her, but once he saw that flash of orange across the room, that was it. His attention stayed locked.
“You having fun?” he asked after getting the chance to walk across the room.
She smiled, swaying a little to the music. “Now I am.”
For the next couple hours, they stayed in their own pocket of the night. They danced with drinks in their hands, not too close, but not out of reach either. Their bodies brushed and his hands found her waist. They were practically flirting with their bodies, testing the space between them.
As the night kept going, the energy between them kept building.
Every time she laughed, every time she moved, every time she brushed past him, it got harder to ignore. The adrenaline from the win hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it intensified everything. He needed to be near her. Touch her. Talk to her. Be in her…
Eventually, they drifted away from the main crowd to a smaller corner that was tucked off to the side. It was much darker, and quieter. The music was still there, but it was more of a murmur in the background.
Michael was closer to her than he had been all night. Wunmi's back was against the wall as she looked at him. He didn't say anything, just stared at her eyes, her lips, the way her chest rose and fell so gently.
Wunmi let out a soft giggle, her head tilting just a little. “What?” she asked, amused by the intensity of his stare.
He didn't say anything, he just leaned in and kissed her. And he kissed her like he'd been holding back all night. And he had been.
After a minute of their mouths moving like nobody was watching. Wunmi pressed a light hand to his chest.
“Michael…” she exhaled, pulling back just enough to breathe. Her skin felt warm, her body reacting just as much as his was.
She leaned in again, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, but when his arm wrapped around her waist to pull her back in, she stopped him again.
“Mm-mm,” she murmured, shaking her head slightly, though she was smiling.
He exhaled, trying to steady himself.
“We should go,” she said softly. “We can finish this at the hotel.”
He nodded once. “Yeah.”
His hand found hers without thinking, fingers closing around it as he started to pull back like he was ready to leave right then.
“Come on—”
“Wait, baby.” Her grip tightened just enough on his wrist to stop him.
He looked back at her.
“You go around, say your goodbyes, and I'll leave first,” she said.
He held her gaze for a second. But he knew she was right to do it like this, even if he didn't like it.
“Fine,” he muttered.
She gave him a small smile, squeezing his wrist once before letting go. Then she stepped away from him, and walked off.
Michael tried to play it cool. He really did. But the second Wunmi slipped out of that corner and disappeared into the crowd, he became incredibly impatient.
He only stayed because he truly had to. People had started to come up to him again now that he wasn't occupied. But with every conversation his attention grew shorter and shorter. Every second felt longer than it really was. He kept checking his watch, then his phone.
He tried to be respectful and not rush people, but it was getting harder because all he could think about was her. He was too focused on her dress and how she felt against him.
After thirty agonizing minutes, he finally found his chance to break away.
“Aight, I’m finna head out,” he said quickly to the people closest to him, stepping back.
“Already?” someone asked.
“Yeah, I’ll catch y’all,” he replied, not even slowing down.
And then he was gone. Moving faster than he had all night.
“Take me back to the hotel,” he said as soon as he got inside of the car.
The car pulled off and it was silent. He was left with just his thoughts. His leg started bouncing in anticipation and adrenaline.
He pulled his phone out, unlocking it quickly and going straight to her messages.
what room you in?
He stared at the screen, expecting for her to answer right away. But she didn't. Minute after minute passed and she still hadn't even so much as read the message.
He was trying his hardest not to overthink what could've happened. Because he didn't know what he would do if she was asleep.
He exhaled sharply, leaning forward slightly in his seat before forcing himself back so he could relax. But in reality he couldn’t.
The car ride to the hotel felt impossibly long felt longer than it actually was. So when they pulled up to the hotel, he reached for the handle before the driver could fully stop.
By the time they pulled up to the hotel, he was already reaching for the door before the driver could even fully stop. He quickly stepped out and moved over to the side, refreshing his screen hoping that would make her respond faster. And as soon as he got ready to send her a text after almost fifteen minutes of no response, his phone buzzed.
1016. Come on up 😉
He slid the phone back into his pocket, tightening his grip on the Oscar in his hand as he turned and headed inside.
He walked as fast as possible through the lobby and past the front desk. He didn't slow down as he walked straight to the elevators. Luckily the doors opened as soon as he pressed the button, so he rushed inside and waited for the doors to close. Every floor it passed felt slower than the last, the quiet hum of it doing nothing to settle him. His reflection stared back at him in the mirrored walls, his suit slightly loosened now, shades covering his lowered eyes.
The elevator doors opened and he practically jogged out. His eyes scanned the doors as he passed, trying to find her suite as quickly as possible. And as soon as he found it, he knocked on her door immediately.
Then he waited. And waited. And waited. His chest rose and fell heavily in anticipation. He shifted his weight, about to knock again when the door opened. And whatever he was about to say was completely gone.
Wunmi stood there, framed in the doorway as if she had been waiting hours for him. She was wearing a wine red robe that was tied loosely around her. It hid just enough.
His eyes roamed her body carefully or hat he could take everything in. When he made it back up to her face she had a knowing smile on her face.
Her hand held the door open, body angled just slightly like she was about to step back, probably about to say something, but he didn’t give her the chance. His mouth was on hers before she could get a word out.
His arm wrapped around her waist—Oscar still firm in his grip—pulling her into him as he stepped forward, guiding them both inside without breaking the kiss. The door shut behind them with a firm click. He didn’t even look back to see it close.
Wunmi let out a soft sound against his mouth, her hands coming up to grip his upper arms as he pressed into her.
The kiss was passionate and level as it was filled with everything that had been building up for the night. Her body gave into it for a moment, leaning into him, matching his energy just enough before she pulled back a little so she could breathe. Her chest rising and falling as she tapped lightly against his arms. She tried to step away, but his grip around her waist didn’t loosen, it actually tightened.
“Where you going?” he murmured roughly.
She swallowed, clearing her throat as her eyes flicked away from his for a second.
“I was about to order room service,” her voice was a little breathy. “I’m hungry and I haven’t eaten in a while.” Her accent slipped through more when she said it, wrapping around her words in a way that made his gaze sharpen just a bit.
He didn’t respond right away, but very reluctantly his grip eased just enough.
She slipped out from his hold, turning away before she could get pulled back in again, walking toward the small table where the room phone sat. She picked it up, dialing quickly, pressing it to her ear.
“Hi, yes—room service please…” She heard movment behind her, but she didn't pay it much attention at the time.
He stepped close behind her, both hands free now as he had set the Oscar on the coffee table. His arms slid around her waist from behind, pulling her back into him.
She inhaled softly but didn’t stop talking.
“Yes, can I get the—”
His lips began to brush lightly against her neck. Her words faltered for half a second. Then he did it again and her grip on the phone tightened as she tried to stay focused.
“And…um also the—”
His mouth moved along her skin, from her neck to her shoulder, not caring much about what she was doing.
“—and a side of fries, please…”
He shifted, pressing a kiss just beneath her ear this time, and she closed her eyes briefly, steadying herself.
“Thank you,” she finished quickly, almost rushing the last part of the order before hanging up.
The second the phone clicked back into place, a soft moan escaped her mouth out of impulse. Michael had found a spot on her neck that made her shoulders drop instantly, her head tilting just slightly to the side as he lingered there.
“Michael…” she murmured, barely above a whisper.
He didn’t answer.
She turned in his arms, her hands coming up to rest around his neck. His hands shifted naturally to her lower back.
“They said it would be about thirty minutes,” she said softly, searching his face.
He hummed low in response, but it didn't matter.
His mouth claimed hers again, his tongue slipped past her lips, tasting her until she melted against him. His hands stayed firm on her lower back, one sliding up to grip the nape of her neck, angling her head just right to deepen the kiss even more.
She matched him, her fingers grasping his shoulders, pulling lightly as the heat built between them. But he controlled it all, the pace, the pressure, pulling back only when he chose to.
His lips left hers with a soft, wet sound, trailing down to her neck. He sucked there, marking the skin with a pull that made her gasp. Then lighter kisses followed, right on that sensitive spot beneath her ear.
His hands wandered lower, slipping down the curve of her hips to cup her robe-covered ass. He squeezed firmly, palming the soft flesh through the thin fabric, kneading it like he couldn't get enough.
A breathy and needy moan escaped her, her body arching into his touch. "Michael..."
He simply kept sucking and kissing that spot, his breath hot against her skin, hands working her ass with steady pressure.
"Michael," she said again, sharper this time, her voice laced with urgency.
She pulled back forcefully, breaking the contact, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Her eyes locked on his. Without a word, she grabbed his hand, her fingers wrapping around his firmly.
"Come on," she said softly, her voice steady despite the flush on her cheeks. "Let's go to the bedroom."
She led him there, her steps quick but sure, guiding him through the suite to the open doorway of the bedroom. The king-sized bed waited in the center, looking so inviting under the low lamp light. She stopped just in front of it, turning to face him, still holding his hand.
His eyes were dilated, pupils blown wide, fixed entirely on her like nothing else existed.
"Take off your clothes," she told him while releasing his hand.
Michael didn't hesitate. His fingers moved to his suit jacket first, shrugging it off his broad shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. The white shirt came next, buttons undone one by one, revealing the hard lines of his chest and abs, skin still glowing from the night's adrenaline. He kicked off his shoes, then his pants, stepping out of them until he stood there in just his black boxer briefs.
She smiled at him, closing the distance until her body rubbed his. Her palms pressed flat against his chest, firm enough to push him backward step by step. Michael's legs hit the edge of the bed, and he sat down, the mattress dipping under his weight.
His hands instantly shot out, reaching for her waist to tug her onto his lap, but she caught his arms mid-motion, gripping them tight and pinned them in place so he couldn't.
"Not yet," she whispered, leaning down instead. Her lips pecked his quick and teasingly, leaving him wanting more.
He exhaled roughly, his hands slipping free from her hold only to slide down her sides to find the bare skin of her thighs peeking from beneath the robe. His fingers rubbed there, tracing the smooth curves, thumbs pressing in with gentle circles that made her skin hot.
She smiled wider, then sank slowly to her knees between his spread legs. The carpet was soft against her skin as she settled in. Her hands settled on his muscled thighs. She rubbed up and down them, feeling the tension in him.
Michael's hand came to her head being mindful of the two long braids in the back of her head. He stroked gently, watching her every move.
Wunmi's eyes flicked up to meet his, then down to the waistband of his underwear. She hooked her fingers in it, tugging lightly. "Lift up," she low and steady.
He did, raising his hips just enough. She slid the fabric down his legs and tossed it aside. His thick and heavy dick sprang out, curving slightly upward. She stared at it with wide eyes, lips parting just a bit. She always loved looking at it. It looked almost too much for her sometimes, but so pretty.
A soft moan slipped from her lips as she took it in, eyes still locked on his. Her hands wrapped around the base gently, both needed to fit around him. She scooted closer on her knees. Michael groaned at the feeling of her hands.
Her mouth closed over the tip, lips stretching around it. She pushed forward enough to take him in, then swirled her tongue, sucking lightly with a wet pull that made his hips twitch.
"Shit," he moaned, his hand moving to the back of her head, fingers wrapping around the two long braids. "Can I pull these?"
She nodded without pulling off, eyes watering just a touch.
He got a firm grip, twisting them a little in his palm. Michael pushed her head down further, guiding her onto more of his length.
She gagged a little, throat tightening around him, but she didn't wait for him. Her hands gripped his thighs, nails digging in as she took control of the pace, tongue swirling along the underside with every bob. She slid up and down slowly at first, then built a rhythm. Saliva coated him as she worked deeper, hollowing her cheeks.
Each time she sank down, she pushed a little further, throat relaxing to take more and gagging softly around him. She hummed from the fullness.
Michael moaned, his eyes fighting to stay locked on hers. "Fuck, Wunmi..."
She moaned around him in response, the vibration buzzing through his shaft. Heat pooled between her legs, she was aching and wet. She pressed her thighs together subtly, needing some relief, but it only made it stronger.
It didn't take long. His thighs tensed under her grip, breath hitching. "I'm— fuck—"
A deep groan tore from him as he came, thick ropes hit the back of her throat, and she swallowed it all.
A little escaped from the corner of her mouth. She pulled him out and wiped it with one finger, then slid that finger between her lips, sucking it clean before swallowing. Her eyes never left his. She rose to her feet, a smile on.
"Scoot back," she told him.
Michael shifted, sliding toward the headboard, propping himself up on the pillows as he watched her.
Wunmi's fingers found the tie of her robe, deliberately loosening it slowly. The fabric parted, falling open to reveal a deep wine red lace lingerie set. The bra cupped her full breasts, matching panties, and lace garters stretching down to mid-thigh. She shrugged the robe off her shoulders, letting it fall to her feet before kicking it aside.
Michael's eyes widened, taking her in. If this wasn't the perfect way to celebrate his win, nothing was. His tongue came out to lick his lips, hand extending toward her.
She climbed onto the bed, crawling her way up to him, then swung a leg over, straddling his hips. She leaned down, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss.
His hands went straight to her large, plush ass, cheeks spilling over his palms. He gripped it hard, kneading the flesh through the lace, pulling her tighter against him as the kiss turned heated and messy.
She moaned into his mouth, the sound vibrating between them, arching into his touch as he palmed her roughly.
Above him, she looked stunning, and his mind raced with only one thought: he needed to capture this moment. He broke the kiss, but she just dipped lower, lips finding his neck, sucking lightly along his throat.
"Wunmi," he said, clearing his throat.
She hummed against his skin, not stopping, nipping gently.
He hesitated, heart pounding. "Can I...record us?"
That made her freeze. She pulled back fully, lifting her head to search his eyes, surprise flickering there. "What?"
He cleared his throat again, holding her gaze, voice even as possible. "Can I record us? Please."
Wunmi's eyebrows furrowed, confusion sharpening her features. "No. Why would you even want that?"
Something in him tensed, a knot pulling tight in his chest. He needed this, so he could have something to relive this night and everything it would come with. And what better way than a video to pull out later, just for him. So he decided to beg. His hands slid up her thighs, thumbs brushing the lace garters, then higher to trace her hips. He gave her those pleading, wanting eyes that she could never resist.
"Come on, baby," he murmured, voice dropping low, fingers kneading her skin. "Just this one time, for me."
She huffed, staring down at him, shifting on his lap as his touch worked its magic. Sitting up straighter, she crossed her arms under her chest, listening while he kept begging.
After a long pause, she sighed heavy, rolling her eyes but despite everything in her telling her not to, she gave in. "Fine. You can record. us But on my phone. I don't want it anywhere it could get in the wrong hands."
His face lit up in excitement. "Okay. When will I get it?"
"You get it when I decide to give it to you," she said firmly, arching a brow.
"Okay, okay," he agreed quick, tapping her thigh lightly. "Let me grab it."
She slid off him, kneeling back on the bed as he got off the bed and stood up. He padded across the room naked, strong back flexing, then he snatched her phone from the nightstand. He handled it quickly, pulling up the camera, and propped it so it fully captured the bed.
Wunmi watched him from the bed, knees tucked under her, a flicker of unease in her eyes. She wasn't fully sold on this idea, but for him and because of what tonight was, she'd do it.
Michael climbed back on the bed, crawling toward her on hands and knees. He grabbed her waist, yanking her into him. Their mouths crashed together, tongues hot and urgent.
He pushed forward, guiding her down until her back hit the sheets. He hovered over her, one knee between her thighs, kissing her deeper as the mattress shifted under their weight.
Wunmi moaned into his mouth when his hips rolled down into her, his hard length pressing right against the damp lace of her panties.
His hand slipped between them, fingers hooking the waistband of her panties, tugging them down.
"We gotta take these off," he whispered against her lips.
She moaned louder, arching up as his fingers grazed the fabric over her folds.
They worked together with her lifting her hips and him pulling the lace down her thighs. He tossed them aside and kissed her again.
Without much thought, he teased himself at her entrance, before easing in, the thick tip parting her wetness. They both moaned at the stretch, her walls gripping him tight, trying to pull him deeper.
Michael pecked her lips, then dropped his forehead to hers. She let out another moan as he slipped further, inch by inch, filling her completely. His hips adjusted, tilting to hit that perfect angle deep inside, the one that made her entire body melt, legs trembling around him. He knew her every spot, and he wanted that reaction he knew it would bring.
Her hands cradled the back of his head, holding him steady as he started slow, deep thrusts, pushing to the base each time. She moaned loud, but it got lost in his mouth as he kissed her again, swallowing the sounds.
He pulled back just enough to stare into her eyes, voice rough with emotion. "You're so fucking beautiful, baby. I love you so much."
"Thank you, baby. I love you too." Wunmi moaned, walls clenching around him.
His thrusts picked up, pushing deeper, hitting that line where pleasure tipped into almost too much. Wunmi gasped, her hands sliding down to press flat on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palms.
Michael's eyes were locked on her face, watching her moan. She clenched around him on each stroke, pulling him in like she couldn't get enough.
Her eyes fluttered, starting to close from being overwhelmed, so he murmured low, "Does it feel good, baby?"
She nodded quickly, rocking her hips up to meet him. "It's just so much."
He glanced down between them, seeing how her slick folds stretched around his thickness as he disappeared inside her with every push.
"I know, I know," he soothed gently.
But he didn't ease up. Instead, he dug deeper, hips rolling, chasing those raw sounds she made.
Wunmi gasped louder, hands flying to his biceps, gripping hard. "Hold me," she pleaded, voice breaking. She needed him close, skin to skin.
He let her pull him down on top of her. Her arms wrapped tight around his head, squeezing him close. He kissed her neck soft, lips brushing sweat-damp skin. "I got you, baby. It's okay. I'm holding you."
He picked up speed just a touch. His long, powerful strokes had them both moaning into each other's ears.
Wunmi's hands gripped his arms tight, fingers holding on for dear life, but she shied from wrapping around him fully.
As if reading her mind, Michael caught her wrists gentle, guiding her hands to his back. "Put 'em right here," he murmured, pressing them flat against his skin. "Good girl."
She moaned louder at the praise. Each thrust exploded through her, her stomach tightened, pushing her quickly toward the edge.
"I'm goin—" Her warning broke into a sharp moan, words lost as pleasure overtook. Her nails scraped his back lightly, gripping hard.
"You can scratch it, baby," he urged, pushing their lips together for a deep kiss.
Their lips locked, her moans muffled against him, until she released, coming hard around him.
He pecked her lips, then leaned back slowly, moving to kneel between her trembling legs. He was still buried deep inside her as he watched her chest heave.
He gathered her soft legs in his large hands and eased them wider apart. Then he thrust back in, picking up where they left off.
Wunmi moaned, fingers twisting into the sheets, back arching off the bed as he filled her again.
Michael kept the pace, hands roaming up her curves until one palm gripped a full breast through the lace bra, thumb circling the hard nipple.
"You're taking it so well," he praised her.
She whimpered, "Please..." She was already close to another edge, body completely overwhelmed. She tried to close her legs, thighs pressing together to slow it down.
He shook his head. "Uhn-uhn. Open those legs for me."
She hesitated, then parted them. Michael hooked his hands into the soft crease behind her knees, pinning her thighs wide open, knees bent toward her chest. With her open like that, he went to town, thrusts turning harder and faster, pounding deep inside with wet slaps echoing in the room. And Wunmi could do nothing but take it. Her body rocking with every slam, completely at his mercy.
One hand flew to his chest, the other pressed his lower stomach, yet neither slowed him down.
"What's my name, baby?" he demanded.
She could barely form words, eyes unfocused, mind melted, but she managed to get out, "Daddy..."
He groaned in approval. "And what did Daddy win, huh?"
"An Oscar," she moaned.
A cuss slipped from her lips as he drove her deeper into the mattress, holding her legs even wider, folding her nearly in half.
"I'm so proud of you, baby," he rasped, thrusting even with her clenching tight around him. "I love you."
"I love you too," she said instantly, almost like it was on autopilot.
He felt his own release building up with her pulsing around him with no protection. She was the only one he ever went raw with, the only one he wanted to with.
He kept driving deep, careful nudges against the top of her ceiling, teasing that spot until she squealed, clenching tight around him every time.
Groans poured from him continuously, as his release came fast. He buried himself deep, tip kissing that sensitive spot, and came, filling her up.
Her legs shook violently under his hands, another orgasm unexpectedly ripping through her.
"Please…" she begged, body seizing as pleasure overwhelmed her.
She reached for any part of him. He caught her hand, lacing their fingers together as they rode it out.
They were so lost in each other, they forgot about the phone and room service entirely.
Earlier, a soft knock came from the suite door, but was ignored. The staff woman waited longer than protocol, with the hot food starting to cool on the cart. There was no "Do Not Disturb" sign hung, so she swiped her keycard and rolled the cart inside.
Her eyes caught the Oscar. She'd heard whispers from the other staff that Michael B. Jordan was in the hotel tonight. But she didn't think she would be serving him.
Muffled sounds came from the open bedroom door. And of course she felt the need to be nosy. She parked the cart by the table and creeped toward the doorway. And there he was, with his bare back flexed, hips moving forward as he held a woman's legs open.
Then, very clearly, she heard "I love you."
A muffled response followed.
The woman's eyes widened and she left quickly not wanting to interrupt what she could only imagine was a celebration.
Michael released Wunmi's legs, letting them fall to the sheets. Her chest heaved with each inhale, skin flushed and glistening. His eyes were fixed on her breasts that were still trapped by her lace bra.
She whimpered when he slipped out, the sudden emptiness making her clench around nothing.
He pecked her lips a few times, before trailing kisses from her lip to her cheek, neck, collarbone, and down to her chest. His lips kissed each breast, then his hand cupped one while his mouth latched onto the other. He tugged the bra down, exposing her dark nipples. He licked slow circles, then he sucked, pulling delicious moans from her throat.
Her hand found the back of his head to hold him there as he showed her some attention.
"They're so perfect, baby," he praised against her skin, voice muffled
He switched sides, mouth leaving a wet trail across her chest, sucking the other nipple with the same intensity. He kept going until he was satisfied, before leaning back on his heels. He licked his lips, eyes taking her ruined look in. His gaze dropped lower, to her swollen, leaking pussy. A low groan came from him.
"Turn over for me."
Wunmi swallowed hard. Doggy always felt iffy because Michael could get rough when he was lost in it. And tonight she was sure she'd have to brace herself with him still being high from his win.
She took a deep breath and rolled over, then pushed up onto all fours, back arched slightly.
Michael slid off the bed to stand behind her. He always loved his view from the back. "Come back toward me."
She inched backward on her knees, until she felt close enough. His hands firmly gripped her ankles and yanked her to the edge in one pull. Her body moved easily against the hotel sheets, ass now only inches away from him.
He pressed her upper body down into the bed, making her arch exactly how he wanted it, and her ass lifted up to him. His palm cracked against one cheek, then the other which made the flesh jiggle. She gasped, but he saw her subtly push back as if sshe wanted more.
Michael gripped his dick, rubbing the thick length up and down her slick folds, teasing her entrance until she moaned, ass wiggling eagerly against him.
Wunmi pushed back easing just the tip and another inch or two inside. A deep moan escaped as she stretched around him. Then she rocked forward, nearly pulling off, before sliding back those same few inches.
He bit his lip hard, watching as her body worked him over.
She kept it up, her pace not nearly fast enough for him, but her soft moans told him that she was enjoying every shallow push. His hand went the top of her ass to guide her back with each rock.
"Shit..." he moaned, the grip helping her meet him halfway.
Her fingers twisted tight into the sheets.
They rocked like that, pace gradually building.
"I love this dick," Wunmi gasped between moans, voice breathy. "It feels so good, baby."
Michael kept his hands on her hips, but he sharply pulled her further back on him, making most of his length sink in deep in her. She moaned loud.
His palm smack her ass again, the sting burning. "You can take more, right?"
"Daddy, please," she moaned, going forward automatically.
He just chased her, inching more in slowly. "C'mon, baby."
Her arm shot back, but he snatched her wrist up, letting her hand grip his solid arm. Using it as leverage, he pulled her onto him further, watching her take it.
"It's too much," she whined, but her moan sounded too needy, and her body clenched around the fullness.
He let go of her arm, hands going for her waist instead. Then he pulled her back slamming into her faster, deeper, and harder than before.
Moans spilled from her consistently now. Sounding so soft and sweet to his ears, it was like music. She gripped the sheets so tight as her body jolted with each thrust.
"You can take it," he urged. "Talk to me."
"Baby, I can't," she stuttered, eyes squeezing shut tight, overwhelmed.
Another moan ripped from her. He groaned as she fluttered around him.
"Yes, you can," he growled. "Tell Daddy what he wants to hear."
Wunmi's cries of "Daddy, please" kept going with every thrust as he pounded into her without mercy.
Her stomach tightened hard, legs trembling under the onslaught. "Baby, I'm about to come," she gasped, voice squealing.
He grunted low, hips never slowing. "Come for Daddy."
Quick, he sucked until his thumb was wet and then pressed it against her back hole then eased it in.
"Micha— Daddy!" She gasped out.
His thumb stayed buried knuckle-deep, while his other fingers gripped her ass cheek firmly to keep the momentum going.
Her release hit her so intensely that she unintentionally clenched around him. A string of moans spilled out—"Oh fuck—Daddy…"—as he fucked her through it. She creamed heavy, coating his whole dick white and dripping down.
Michael pushed her waist down, arching her deeper, then leaned forward over her back to hold her down as he continued thrusting.
It was far too much, it felt too good and yet too overwhelming. Wunmi reached back, palm pushing weakly at his thigh to slow him down.
Michael snatched her hand up, leaning down to kiss her knuckles. He pressed their intertwined fingers to her lower back.
"Baby, it's too big," she called out, voice wrecked. "And you're giving it all to me."
"I got to. So you know how proud of you I am. You proud of me too, baby?"
She whimpered with every slam. "Yes…congratulations, Daddy."
"Say it again."
"Congratulations, Daddy," she gasped louder.
"Fuck this pussy good," he groaned.
Then in a much softer voice, he asked, "Do you love me, baby?"
"I love you so much. Fuck—" She moaned, face shoved into the bed, muffling the words.
"I love you too."
He pushed through until his own release came close. "Fuck, I'm about to nut all in this good shit."
One more deep thrust, and he came filling her with hot ropes. He pulled out slowly, their cream leaking from her, then dropped down behind her, diving in without giving her a break.
Moans tore from her as he ate her from the back. He gripped her thighs to still her squirming and spread her open.
His tongue licked her entrance hungrily, sucking their mixed release, then went lower to her clit. He sucked and pulled making her moans so loud he figured they could hear her in the next room.
Her hand desperately shot between her legs, trying to nudge his head away as overstimulation hit. "W-wait, baby—I—I can't…fuck!" she cried between moans, thighs shaking.
He didn't let up, tongue flicking quickly even as she tried to crawl forward to escape. Michael climbed onto the bed, grip tightening on her thighs to hold her steady. He ate her until another orgasm had her body tensing. He slurped her up greedily, not wasting a drop.
He stood up and slapped her ass one more time, watching it jiggle as she collapsed forward onto the bed. Her whole body trembling violently.
Michael slid in beside her, gathering her body close, pulling her into his chest. Their lips came together in slow kiss, and his hands kneaded her ass lazily.
Her eyes fluttered shut eventually, exhaustion claiming her. He kissed her forehead, then slipped from the bed to grab the still recording phone from off the table. He hit stop and set it back on the nightstand before climbing back under the sheets.
Two days later, Michael was stretched out across his bed. One arm tucked behind his head, the other resting on his chest as he stared blankly at the wall. The room was quiet and it gave his mind too much space to wander. And all he could think about was Sunday night.
He let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face before letting it fall back onto the bed.
Everything about it had been a perfect night. From the win to the celebration. The way she looked, the way she sounded, the way she felt, and the way she tasted. It played back so vividly.
It didn’t help that she wasn’t even in the city anymore. She’d left the next day for work. She said she would only be gone for a few days, but a few days felt like a long time right now.
He shifted slightly on the bed, exhaling again, his jaw tightening as he tried to push the thoughts away. It didn’t work. If anything, it made it worse.
His mind went right back to the details like how she squeezed his dick so good, or how her mouth sucked him up so deliciously. He could picture it all, but some things were starting to get cloudy. Then he remembered that she had sent him the audio. It wasn't the actual video, but he knew better than to push for more.
He reached for his phone almost immediately, unlocking it and scrolling through his messages until he found it. His thumb hovered over it for half a second, then he pressed play.
He grabbed his headphones from the nightstand, slipping them on as he leaned back again, eyes closing as the sound filled his ears. And he was pulled right back there.
He exhaled slowly, his head tipping back against the headboard, letting it play out without interruption. His hand dragged down his body until he got to the band of his shorts.
The memory mixing with the sound in his ears, pulling him deeper into it. He slipped his hand underneath, grabbing himself. He slowly started stroking his dick at the breathy mixed sound of them both. His current breathing became heavier each time he went from base to tip. He got completely lost in it.
Until his phone rang.
His eyes snapped open, brows furrowing as he pulled one side of the headphones off, the moment broken.
“…man,” he exhaled, reaching for his phone, irritation clear as he glanced at the screen.
When he looked at the screen, he let out a quiet curse under his breath at what he forgot. It was one of the girls he had hit up earlier, because he needed a quick release.
“Yeah?”
“I’m outside,” she said, her tone a little playful.
“Aight, I got you,” he replied trying to hide his annoyance, before hanging up.
The headphones came off and he tossed those and his phone onto the bed. They landed somewhere near the pillows as he pushed himself up and headed out of the room. When he opened the door, she was standing there smiling, looking him up and down the second she saw him.
“Hey,” she said, stepping in and wrapping her arms around him.
He quickly hugged her back.
“Congratulations,” she added.
“Thank you,” he said, pulling back slightly.
Her expression shifted as if she had remembered something. A small pout formed on her face.
“But why you ain’t invite me over?” she asked, dragging the words out just a little. “We could’ve had fun…”
He looked at her for a second. Then looked away.
“C’mon,” he said instead, stepping to the side as he gestured for her to come in.
She gave him a look like she noticed what he did, but didn’t push it. Not yet at least.
He led her upstairs without saying much else, his energy more direct and less patient. The second they got into his room, she dropped her bag near the chair, turning back toward him just in time for him to close the distance.
He jumped straight into it by kissing her. She responded instantly, arms coming up around his shoulders as they moved together, but there was a subtly difference now. His focus wasn’t fully on her.
He guided her backwards toward the bed, and when the backs of her legs hit the mattress, she let herself fall back with a small laugh. He followed right after, crowding over her. His movements were quick, almost impatient. Almost as if he wanted to be done before they had even started.
Afterwards, they laid in a too quiet room. Michael was on his back, one arm resting behind his head again, chest rising and falling slower now as he came down from it. His eyes weren’t really focused on anything but the ceiling.
She was on her side, propped slightly up on her elbow, watching him, and thinking. She had seen a tweet earlier, and she couldn't shake the thought of it. And now with him so distant, she felt there was some truth to it. At first, she tried to brush it off because people said anything online. It came with who he was as a celebrity. But this one really stuck with her.
She hadn’t seen or heard from him that night. And now, laying here next to him, she couldn’t help but let her thoughts take her to a place beyond concern. She didn’t usually get like this with anyone, but he was different. He treated her well, and he respected her. And maybe somewhere along the way, she started wanting more. Or at least wanting to feel like she could be more.
Her eyes moved over him, studying his face, the calmness there that didn’t quite match how her mind was moving. She needed to know.
“Hey,” she said softly to catch his attention.
He glanced over at her. “What’s up?”
She gave him a small look, batting her lashes. “Can you get me something to eat? And a drink?”
He paused, then nodded. “Yeah, I got you.”
He pushed the covers back and got out of bed, grabbing a pair of sweats from the chair as he walked out of the room. The door clicked shut behind him. And the second it did, she moved fast.
The softness dropped from her face completely as she turned, reaching straight for his phone on the bed. For a second, she hesitated, but it all went out the window when she remembered how he was so caught up. Then she unlocked it. She remembered it from a time he forgot that she was laying next to him watching.
The second she got into his phone, she didn’t waste time, she went straight to his messages. Her thumb scrolled past names and numbers she didn’t care about. She wasn’t trying to read everything, but she was looking for something that felt different.
And it didn’t take long. There was a thread with nothing but an iCloud email.
Her brows pulled together slightly as she clicked it. There wasn’t a conversation. Just one message. An audio file. She tapped it and lifted the phone to her ear. And the second the audio started, her face went still. Her eyes narrowed as she listened to it for a few more seconds. She didn’t need long to understand exactly what she was hearing.
Her hand dropped slightly from her ear, but she didn’t stop the audio right away. It kept playing faintly, just enough for her to catch pieces of it and confirm what she already knew.
“Wow…” she whispered under her breath, though there was no real surprise, only irritation.
She stopped the audio and quickly sent the file to herself, fingers steady despite everything running through her head. Once it went through, she deleted the sent file from his side, so he wouldn't have a clue. Then she locked the phone and placed it back where it had been.
Her face was blank as she pulled the sheet slightly over herself.
By the time Michael came back into the room, she had put her act back on. Or tried to at least.
He walked in with a sandwich and a drink, completely unaware.
“Here,” he said, handing them over as he moved back toward the bed.
“Thank you,” she replied, her voice a little quieter than before.
She didn’t stay much longer after that. She finished her food, making light conversation when he spoke and let him touch her like he always did. If anything, she leaned into it a little more, playing the role just enough so he wouldn’t question it.
But her mind wasn’t present anymore. All she could think about was the intimacy she heard, and how he sounded so different with her. And the fact that it wasn’t her.
She finally decided to slip out of his bed, then put her clothes back on piece by piece.
“I’ll text you,” she said, smoothing her hands down her outfit as she grabbed her bag.
“Okay,” he replied, barely looking up from his phone.
She paused for half a second, looking at him. Then smiled.
“Congratulations again,” she added.
“Appreciate it,” he said, glancing up just long enough to give her a small nod.
And that was it, so she left.
end notes: no tags for this because people been wanting to tussle for this! but if you would like to be tagged lmk because there will be a part 2 and 3. they're already being worked on actually.
This was part of the two-shot that this series was supposed to be, but I won't be using it anymore.
*NOT EDITED*
Warnings: Fluff, smut, mentions of blood, grief, and death
October 15, 1932 — Morning
Annie stood at the wash basin, lye soap in hand, humming something sweet. It wasn’t anything she’d actually heard before. It was something she felt, like breath and heartbeat. It lived in her chest, clinging to her ribs like a hearty meal.
She felt a tug in her spirit. Both butterflies and unease twisted in her gut.
Smoke’s comin’ home today, she thought to herself. The thought felt like an omen. Annie hoped, prayed, he wouldn’t bring anything from Chicago with him. She wasn’t worried about a woman. Not the law, nor the mob. Not even the klan.
It was something much worse.
The road to Annie’s shop lay just ahead, looming, narrow and rugged. Dirt kicked up from the wheels, a thick cloud of red dust and exhaust smoke that billowed into the sky and disappeared into the trees.
Seven years had gone by. Seven years of Chicago winters and tear-stained letters. Seven years of ache. Seven years of keeping his brother safe. And seven years without the woman who kept them both alive.
He and Stack shared a lil’ kitchenette apartment in the blackbelt. They ran jobs for Capone, hoarding money, gold, and hooch, and stashing it in a dilapidated warehouse. It was risky business, sure— but Chicago was always a means to an end.
It meant no more busting ass for the white man to roll up a few days after Christmas, cigar in his mouth, smirk on his face, just to tell him he still owed him money after picking his cotton all fucking year.
They had plans. Big ones. They’d open a place where their people could enjoy themselves. Not some raggedy shit that ran out of a plantation shack. They’d buy that old sawmill, patch it up, turn it into a juke joint.
He’d put his share of the profit into something more stable— a funeral home on Issaquena, running hearses from there to Mound Bayou. And Smoke, he could finally build his wife that house they both dreamed about. Something real peaceful. Two stories, a kitchen, a garden, a picket fence, pigpen and a chicken coop. They could live off the land and fill the house with babies. Little chocolate cherubs with his dimples and her eyes.
He’d begged her to follow him. He said he’d go ahead, set everything up for them, take a job at the stockyard. He’d work his way up and buy them a place over in Bronzeville. Something comfortable, with a view of Lake Michigan. A fresh start.
She refused. Told him that blood kept her bound to the land. That she wouldn’t leave their daughter’s grave untended. She poured her soul into his mojo bag before he left. He’d press his lips to it sometimes, when the ache started to feel tangible. He could still taste the salt from her tears, like she blessed it with them.
He kissed her hard and fucked her slow the night before. Then he tucked his hat and held her softly as she wept on his chest.
“I love you.”
He didn’t apologize or make promises. He didn’t need to. Their understanding went beyond what words could explain. When she looked up at him, doe eyes red-rimmed and watery, his chest tightened. Her gaze pierced his soul. He kissed her trembling lips once more, then he walked out the door.
Smoke’s truck stopped short of the house. He took a deep breath. Then he cut the engine, and stepped out of his truck. He looked around, taking it all in slowly. The porch still sagged in the middle; a wayward floorboard still hung loose on the steps. But the garden was tended. The faint scent of rosemary she used to sweep the porch still hung in the air.
He looked to his left and froze. A little mound of earth. A stone with a small handprint. A bottle of fresh milk. An Egun stick...she taught him that. And a rusted tin for flowers. He took off his cap, the bundle of flowers trembling slightly in his hand.
He couldn’t remember how long he’d been crouching before he noticed the wind had stopped blowing. The throaty flute of a windchime sounded and pollen danced around his head, but he could feel no breeze. A chill ran down his spine. The same chill he felt during long nights in Chicago, when the danger felt close and the longing got rough. Nights he swore he could hear her calling his name in narrow alleyways and the back of speakeasies.
His voice was thick, heavy with the weight of things left unsaid.
“How you be?”
Annie shifted her weight, leaning against the doorframe.
“No misery’s worth complaining about.” She spoke with a rawness that brought him to his feet.
When he finally turned to look at her, his breath left him. She looked regal, leather belt cinching her waist, blue skirts moving like tide. She stood perfectly still inside the doorway, looking like a force to be reckoned with. Like a current.
Grief, longing, love and ache all channeled into something that looked more like peace on her. Acceptance. Purpose.
This wasn’t the woman he left seven years ago, the one who left teardrops on the leather of his mojo bag. Certainly not the woman he met 13 years prior— a shy young woman of 18 whose words were spoken quietly but carried weight.
This woman was different. Born of water and baptized in fire. She stood in front of him, a formidable woman. A pillar, a beacon. Unbridled, unapologetic.
Reborn.
The air was thick, sweltering with a lust-filled heat that rivaled the Mississippi’s. Wet smacks and low grunts echoed off the wall, jars and vials clinked as they fell making room for the slick joining of two bodies drunk with need.
Smoke wasn’t gentle. He spun her around and shoved her dress up, putting her exactly where he wanted her. There was no formality, no softness— just a raw need to be close. He pushed in with one long thrust that filled her completely. The stretch was overwhelming— he was thick and long, and it made her face twist up in ecstasy. Her hands reached out, her fingernails digging into the warped wood.
“Nuh-uh, where you goin?”
Smoke pulled out, angling her hips, spreading her wider. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back onto his dick. This angle hit deeper, making Annie see stars. She squealed in pleasure.
“Ah! Elijah!”
He set a punishing rhythm, the wet slap of skin spurring him on. He licked up her neck, then buried his face in it, growling in her ear.
“Who pussy is this?”
“Yours!”
“Say it,” he gritted, feeling her clamp down on him.
“Ah—this p-pussy belongs to you papa!”
“Mhmm.” Smoke slowed down his strokes, letting every thick vein glide against her sensitive walls.
“I’ma fill you up,” he said breathlessly. “Leave you leakin’. Want you walkin’ around that juke full of my nut.” He pulled her hair back, making her arch into him. “You want that baby? Want me to make a mess in you?”
“Yes papa,” she moaned. “I want it drippin’ down my thighs.”
“Ask nicely,” he grunted, tilting his head. She was squeezing him again, her pussy working hard to milk that nut out.
“Please papa,” she whined. “Please make a mess in me.”
Smoke groaned. “Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”
He sped up his strokes again and Annie started screaming. “Come on baby,” he barked. “Fuck me back. Show me how much you missed papa’s dick.”
And like the good girl that Annie was, she followed her papa’s orders.
A Few Hours Later…
Smoke and Annie pulled up to the mill just as the sun began to set, the sky the color of a bruise. He cut the engine, going over the events of the night. Annie tried to listen, as he went on about roulettes and Irish beer, but her thoughts kept drifting like something reached into her brain and yanked.
“Smoke, what time is it?”
Smoke looked down at his watch. “4:32,” he grumbled.
She grabbed her haint beads.
Smoke raised a brow from the driver’s seat. “You good mama?”
Annie hesitated. “Sun rose at six this mornin’. Ain’t due to set for another hour.”
Smoke rubbed her shoulder as Stack approached the truck. “What you thinkin’?”
Annie looked at Smoke dead in his eyes, “This place give me the willies.”
“Hey sis-in-law, long time no see,” Stack said as he opened the passenger door. He removed his hat and helped her out.
“Hey Stack,” she said, bringing him into a hug.
“Thanks for comin’ tonight.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Annie said, still tugging her elekes. Just as she slipped into the building she looked up— three vultures sat perched on the roof.
Music was flowing, plates were selling, bottles of beer and mason jars of wine and whiskey clinked in the air. Annie stood behind the bar, looking at what her husband and his twin put together for their community with a sense of pride. Still, she couldn’t help but feel an impending sense of doom.
It wasn’t too often people her color were allowed prolonged happiness. There would always be some white person who came along and disturbed their peace just because they could. That’s what they did— they lived to reduce them to nothing but hard laborers and strip any sense of joy they tried to cultivate. That was their formula— break ‘em before they think they deserve more.
But this…this was something different.
It felt older— older than Jim Crow and much more sinister.
As soon as Sammie struck his first chord, she felt it.
The veil wasn’t just thinning, it had split wide open.
🎵See I’m full of the Blues, Holy water too…
I know the truth hurts, so I lied to you…🎵
“Ain't no way of bringing nobody back once they gone, that don’t involve evil. Best thang we can do for ‘em is free they spirit from the curse.”
— Annie Moore
Club Juke turned into a mix of blood, fangs and fire.
Stack emerged from the shadows and lunged, pinning Annie to the ground.
“No!” Smoke darted towards her, but was intercepted by Remmick.
“Elias, not Annie!”
This is it, she thought. She knew when she threw her bones it would come to this, it just hurt to think it’d come at the hands of Stack. That the man in charge of her demise would wear the same face as her husband.
She thought about what she could have done. Then she thought about what happened the last time she didn’t let things play out the way they were supposed to. She thought about Smoke, about what she made him promise. He was screaming her name, pleading with Stack while she sobbed quietly. She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear to witness the pain on his face.
“Not you,” Annie whispered between tears.
Stack pulled her jaw towards him. His eyes shined bright, a chilling pale blue. His mouth twisted into a smirk, drool dripping slowly from his fangs. He smirked wider when she squirmed, taunting her. He was enjoying this, seeing her uncomfortable, hearing his twin plead for her life. He took his time, watching her try to wiggle out of his grip with amusement. Annie braced herself as Stack lowered his head.
The screams faded. The shooting, snarling, crackle of fire, all dulled like the world was holding its breath. Annie squeezed her eyes shut, praying quietly as she felt fangs tease her neck.
“Asé.”
Click-click.
BOOM!
Smoke was freed from Remmick’s grip.
Click-click.
BOOM!
“Annie!”
Annie’s eyes flew open to find Pearline standing above her reloading her shotgun, the barrel still smoking.
“Annie! Get up!”
Smoke all but dragged her up off the floor, putting a stake in her hand. A not-so-subtle reminder that the fight wasn’t over. Not until they got Sammie someplace safe. “Come on baby, ain’t done yet.”
October 16, 1932
The air felt thick, like the morning after a storm. It smelled of iron, ash, and the morbidly-sweet rot of a juke joint stripped of its soul and forced to its grave. Death moved through the floorboards like a presence, lingering in corners and clinging to walls like shadows that bent wrong. The sun was still on its ascent, the pale light of morning peaking through the rafters, smoking the vampire bodies in its path.
The shooting stopped five minutes ago, but Annie couldn’t tell. Time here felt like it was holding its breath— like she was standing at the edge of something she couldn’t name, but recognized its shape. Like someone split the veil open and something older stepped out.
Annie sat on top of the bar, trying to quiet the sounds of pain, horror and surrender that echoed in her head. She was slouched, breath stuck in her throat, limbs trembling under the weight of grief and guilt. Her face was covered— a layer of dust, blood and sweat like a second skin. Her eyes were red-rimmed, raw and filled with tears that cleared a path where they fell like a map no one asked for. Her dress was in tatters, shoes long gone— lost somewhere in the fight.
Delta Slim’s body was in literal pieces on the stage. Mangled and completely drained of blood, it was a chilling testament to the terror that tore through the night. His harmonica lay amidst a chaotic pile of splintered wood, shards of glass, and blood splatter like a shiny, silver headstone.
Her shoulders shook, tears spilling down her cheeks. The place that was supposed to be somewhere for their community to enjoy themselves became a vehicle of violence and destruction. Of course the klan were involved. Smoke took them out by himself. Picked them off one by one, just like he promised. The mill door creaked open and he stumbled in clutching his side.
“Baby,” Annie gasped, “you hurt?!”
Smoke shook his head. “Just a graze. But we gotta go. I got the truck ready.”
He scooped Annie in his arms and pressed his forehead to hers. His white undershirt was stained red, his pants caked with dirt and gunpowder. His eyes were wet with unshed tears, his hands trembling where he touched her. He had Stack’s dogtags wrapped around his wrist.
“Thought I was gon’ lose you for good,” he murmured. “Ain’t livin’ without you again.”
Annie cradled his face, her tears still flowing. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere. Not without you.”
“Then let’s go home, Mrs. Moore.”
They burned the mill and every trace of what transpired there to the ground until the land was as dark as the blood and ash that soaked it. Black fumes billowed in the air for miles, the smell so vile it burned their eyes. They drove until they couldn’t smell it anymore. Then they kept driving until they saw Spanish moss and swampland. Louisiana.
Her parent’s cottage was still there. Long unoccupied, but still standing. It had a wide porch, a large backyard, and her grandmother’s wind chimes still hanging by the front door. It felt like peace, like this was home now.
Annie swept the floorboards with rosemary and performed her protection spells while Smoke beat the rugs out back and hid their stash under the floorboards.
They bathed together, her back to his chest, his arms wrapped around her waist. They held each other a little tighter that night, the kerosene lamp throwing gold shadows against their skin. He laid behind her and slid in slowly. The thick stretch of him, the power in his strokes made her shudder with pleasure. He was still buried deep when they drifted off, tangled in the sheets, bodies slick with their love. And when the light of dawn made their eyelids flutter awake, he took her again.
Three Months Later
January 31, 1933
Life was joyfully slow. Annie fed the chickens and tended her shop. Smoke found honest work on the railroad. Every morning they watched the sunrise together. Every night they’d hold each other close, listening to the bullfrogs and crickets compete for sound. He’d fuck her filthy every chance he got. Talk her through it, leave her leaking. She stayed so full of him, he filled her with babies, too.
The kitchen smelled like garlic and saltpork. Annie stood at the stove, apron tied loosely over a faded green house dress that fit a little more snug now that she was showing. She smiled down at her growing belly, rubbing it with one hand and stirring a pot of butter beans with the other. Her hips swayed slowly to the song she hummed under her breath. Smoke sat at the kitchen table, watching her with a tender heat. He crossed the room in two strides, pressing himself against her back.
“I’m hungry,” he said roughly.
“Mmm,” she hummed. “Supper’s almost ready, baby.”
“Nah,” he muttered. “My food right here. Been marinatin’ all day.”
He dropped to his knees and pulled up her dress. No panties.
“Mhmm.” He smacked each ass cheek. “Arch that back, baby.”
Annie whimpered. She arched her back.
He licked his lips and dove in tongue first.
October 15, 1933
Smoke sat in the living room, rocking their daughter. She babbled and cooed gently as he held her on his chest, just above his heart.
Annie kneeled at her altar with a heavy heart, eyes wide with unshed tears. She laid a spread out in front of her like something sacred.
A pearl for Pearline.
A flask for Slim.
An old button from a pair of overalls for Cornbread.
Bo’s keychain.
And a paintbrush for Grace.
She thought about Cornbread. How Therese had to raise their child alone. Thought about lil’ Lisa, how her parents never came home. She thought about Pearline, a woman just trying to find some escape and got caught in the crosshairs.
Then she thought about Slim. Thought about how he laid down his life for Sammie. Welcomed death with open arms.
“He’ll be visitin’ Sammie,” she whispered. “Watchin’ him play.”
Then she thought about everyone else at the juke. Her community who came there looking for freedom and fun, and ended up getting burnt by the sun. Those people left behind children, siblings, parents, friends, lovers, lives, legacies. She still remembered standing there next to Smoke, watching the mill burn to ash and feeling the souls stuck on that land, rotting, cursed.
“I think about y’all all the time,” she said to the empty room. “I wanna help y’all crossover proper…just don’t know how.”
A tear fell onto her bottom lip. She licked it, tasting the salt of her pain.
“I need you grandma, great-grandma,” she pleaded softly. “Please.”
She bowed her head and cried. “So many people lost that night,” she sniffled. “Just gone. It ain’t right.”
A windchime sounded outside, but Annie didn’t hear it. The room got colder, the candles flickered once then held steady.
That’s heavy work, baby girl.
Her head snapped up. “Grandma?”
Abeni.
That was a different voice.
Annie paused. “Who are you?”
The stolen one.
A third voice. Annie thought for a moment, the constant tears shedding clouding her eyes and her mind.
“Great-grandma?”
It was silent for a beat. Then—
The flood. The voice said.
Annie gasped. “The one on the other side.”
Your spirit looks sad.
“I could have done something,” she whispered.
Wouldn’t have stopped it no way. That kind of creature, they love to feed on a woman with your gift. Makes ‘em more powerful.
“How do I start? What can I do?”
A body is a good start.
“So they have to be alive?”
That kind, they may walk this earth, but they ain’t alive.
“But I can set their spirits free?”
You can guide it around what’s feedin’ on it. But it ain’t easy. Gon’ take a lot from you, just like it took from me. Their soul has to want it. And some souls, they like bein’ fed on— no matter what they say. Their type— they’re tricksters. Don’t confuse a spirit that wants to be set free with a rotted flesh that wants to lure you in.
Nine Years Later
October 25, 1941
The living room was…loud. A cacophony of toddler babbling, baby cooing and the high pitch of children’s voices. They huddled around the ham radio, turning the knob until they heard the smooth hum of the radio station.
“Hush now! Don’t y’all wanna hear cousin Sammie on the radio?”
A chorus of yes sir’s rang out. Five to be exact.
“Then be quiet ‘fore ya mama send y’all back to bed,” Smoke barked out.
Annie appeared from the back room, baby Ezra suckling her breast. “Now why am I in it?”
Smoke pulled her into his lap, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I just wanted you out here, baby. Missed you when you was gone.”
Annie giggled, moving Ezra to her shoulder to burp. “I been gone for five minutes, Smoke.”
He nuzzled her ear, then kissed her on the cheek. “Five minutes too long.”
Smoke squeezed Annie’s waist when a familiar bassline came over the radio.
🎵Somethin’ I wanna tell ya, ‘fore a long time…
It might hurt ya, might lose ya mind…🎵
They looked at each other with recognition. The painful memories of that night still haunted them— Smoke would wake up gasping, covered in sweat. He’d grab his gun and check the locks twice before crawling back in bed. Sometimes Annie would see burning bodies when she closed her eyes. Bo, Grace, Pearline, Cornbread. Slim’s mangled body. His harmonica that laid on the stage like a grave marker.
Stack came around sometimes. He’d leave candy for the kids, whiskey for Smoke and flowers for Annie. Him and Mary settled across the river in New Orleans, living in the shadows of narrow alleyways, rotting churches, and abandoned mills. They could be around their own kind down there, a certain kind of freedom if you squinted your eyes and looked real close.
Sammie wrote to his cousins every two weeks. He made it to Chicago and recorded “I Lied to You” at Columbia Records the following year. Took him a whole week to get it done ‘cause the equipment kept shutting down mid-session. He told Annie that sometimes, when he was alone in the booth, he’d smell a whiff of corn liquor, followed by the faint thrum of a harmonica and a familiar cackle. He wrote a song for his old friend that day, the man who sacrificed himself so he could be free. It’d go on to be the second single on his debut album. Called it “Magic (It’s What We Do).”
December 7, 1985
The room held its breath.
The oxygen machine hissed. The heart monitor beeped rhythmically. Their children, all six of them in their 40’s and 50’s now surrounded Annie’s bedside.
Smoke sat in the chair next to her, staring at the woman he loved since 1919. He was bald now, wrinkled, even walked with a cane— but his presence still filled a room and pressed into the corners.
“Thank you,” he whispered, just so Annie could hear it. “For givin’ me this life.”
Annie smiled weakly. “You mean havin’ all your bighead babies?”
Elijah Jr, who looked like he could have been Smoke and Stack’s triplet, spoke up. “Now mama, why we gotta be big headed?”
Smoke chuckled, rubbing her hand gently. “For lovin’ me. For givin’ me another chance,” he said softly. “And havin’ all my big headed babies.”
Annie choked out a laugh that turned into a cough.
Their eldest daughter Grace stepped forward, helping her mother sit up. “Mama, the doctor said relax. Don’t be workin’ yourself up.”
Annie swatted her daughter’s arm. “Y’all don’t need to worry about me. Be laughin’ plenty where I’m goin’.”
“Mama don’t talk like that!” she hissed, voice thick with emotion.
“Look here,” Annie started. “I told y’all this day would come. Everybody got a time. You just pray that your time come when you ready and not because somebody else decided for you.”
“Mama….”
Annie sat up fully with Smoke’s help. “Now I want y’all to listen to me. I ain’t got long for this earth. And I ain’t scared. I feel a peace I ain’t never felt before. Know where I’m goin’, I get to see your sister again.”
Smoke squeezed her hand.
“She would have been 62 this year. But she wasn’t meant to be on this earth that long. I had to learn to accept that. Took a while. Hurt real bad. Wasn’t my fault, or yo daddy’s. Not everybody meant to stay long. Some people shorter than others. Don’t mean they life didn’t mean nothin’. Your sister didn’t make it a year and I still remember her laugh like it was yesterday. Still remember what she smell like — milk and lavender.”
Annie smiled to herself.
“It used to hurt thinkin’ about her. Thought I’d never think on her without it takin’ a piece of me. But now I feel joy.” She paused. “That’s how I want y’all to remember me. Y’all have a piece of me in you, so whenever you get sad, just remember…you a part of me. I’ll always be here in spirit.”
Annie looked around the room at her family, the children her and Smoke made out of love and wrapped up in it. She looked at her husband, a formidable man even in his old age. Their eyes held a silent conversation.
“I love you.”
Smoke kissed the back of her hand. “I love you too, mama.”
She winked at him, then she laid back with a smile and closed her eyes. The beep of the heart monitor slowly decreased.
Annie took her last breath that night. Smoke sat by her side— an ever steady presence amidst chaos. He didn’t cry. Didn’t even look sad as the room filled with sobs and screams of their children. He just adjusted her blanket like it would make her more comfortable, kissed her forehead and whispered in her ear. “I’ll see you soon.”
He wouldn’t make it to her funeral.
Stack came by that same night. He looked at his 87-year-old brother and saw the face of a man who ultimately lived life on his own terms. He saw a man who led a life so fulfilling, he was happy to leave it to spend eternity in the sky. He saw a man who he knew he’d never see again in person, not even in the mirror.
They stood side-by-side under the old oak in the backyard, watching the warmth of the house lights spill out the windows.
“How’d she go?” Stack asked.
Smoke dipped his head, the corner of his mouth turning up. “Peacefully,” he said quietly.
Stack nodded. “You next,” he said, not a question.
“It’s my time,” Smoke said with finality.
Stack turned to face his brother. “You know I ain’t good at goodbyes,” he said with a shaky voice. “That’s why it’s never goodbye, always see you later.” He tried to chuckle, but a sob came out instead. “But it’s fuckin’ me up that I won’t be seein’ you later ‘cuz of this…curse,” he choked out. Stack took a deep breath to calm himself. “Maybe Annie can conjure up somethin’ from the spirit world, have me swallow some herbs ‘n shit so I can see y’all again.”
Smoke looked at his forever 35-year-old twin with a profound sadness. He saw a restless spirit. He saw a 9-year-old Elias, terrified to walk this world alone. He saw a 23-year-old Stack terrified to go to Little Rock alone. His heart swelled. There were so many emotions he wished he could convey, but they all got stuck— like they were meant to be left unsaid. Or maybe because Stack already knew. “I’ma miss you,” was all he could manage to get out.
They pulled each other into a hug.
“Ain’t no me without you,” he sobbed. “I can’t do this shit without you.”
“You can and you will. You gon’ do it for me. For my lil’ ones. Make sure they don’t get in no trouble.”
Stack chuckled low. “Thought I don’t know how to watch my own back?”
“You ain’t gotta choice now fool,” he laughed. “Annie gon’ put belt-to-ass, even from the afterlife.”
The SmokeStack twins stood under the stars, reminiscing about their glory days and the nights that still haunted them. New York. France. Chicago. Clarksdale. They talked until dawn threatened the horizon. 9 decades. Two brothers. Two paths. Split for eternity. When Smoke turned to the house, he looked over his shoulder one last time and saw tear stained cheeks that matched his own.
“I love you, lil’ brother.”
“I love you too, big brother.”
As Stack watched his brother slip back into the house, something came over him. It wasn’t a breeze. More like a feeling. A prickling of his skin, like when the temperature drops suddenly. Then her scent wrapped around him— lavender and vanilla, the smell so strong it made his nose tingle. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“Knew you’d come through,” he whispered into the darkness, tears still falling.
Elijah “Smoke” Moore passed three days later. Peacefully. Just like Annie had. As he took his last few breaths, he smiled weakly at the ceiling. “Told you,” he whispered softly. “I ain’t livin’ without you again.”
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preview: Annie, marveling at his honesty and clarity, almost allowed a moan to escape her lips. There was something about the way he'd been vulnerable about being a virgin, something about the way he trusted her to control this moment. He gave her a feeling that restored something in her, like this was her first time all over again, and in a few years, she might actually consider this It.
cw: smut, virgin!smoke, experienced!annie, young smoke x annie, first time, unprotected!sex, fluffy!smut
a/n: this was a request and i can’t thank you enough, anon!!!!! i didn’t expect to write this so fast, but here we areee (i’ve posted three days in a row now,,, let’s not jinx it)
masterlist
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Clouds streaked the early morning sky, creeping over the sun that peeked over the horizon. The spring air was fragrant with goldenrod and honeydew, and when the sun glared, water could be seen glistening atop blades of grass.
The pair had fallen asleep in Smoke's bed after staying up all night watching movies. They'd gone back and forth, each picking something that was significant to them, inching closer with each laugh or gasp of shock. Annie had wound up in his arms during a scary movie, and he had ended up with his head tucked into her neck while watching a romcom. It was a simple date, but it was special.
Smoke's arms surrounded Annie as she slept. He held her tight, felt for every shift of her breath and tightened his hold when she tried to move. He craved her closeness, and for the past few months—as their relationship flourished—he began to feel the absence of something that needed to be filled.
The earliest he could remember The Feeling was three months ago.
That night, he'd taken her out to some concert she'd been begging to go to, and as he watched her, the emotion budded. Her eyes were bright as she looked toward the stage. And the lights illuminated her face in a way that showed off her excitement perfectly. In that moment, his mind dipped off into thoughts that were far from chaste. He decided then that he'd do anything to make her happy enough to make that face again, to have his reaction to it be just that strong.
The Feeling persisted for weeks after that, blooming when she decided to try on a few options for a party she was going to. She couldn't decide what was best, and he was the only person available to give their opinion. Each outfit got skimpier and skimpier, and as he sat on her bed, watching her twirl for him, a pillow found its way into his lap.
He wasn't naive about his feelings, but Smoke had never actually done anything like that before. In 23 years, he'd done nothing sexual with another person; But with Annie, he was finally ready to go that far. He loved the person she was: her personality, her body, her laugh when he said something stupid about how they were both too damn nervous to give this a try when they were back in high school together. He loved her, and he could no longer resist The Feeling.
His body curled into hers, hands smoothing out his shirt that covered her back. She was beautiful like this—prettiest in the mornin'—he was known to say. Smelling the side of her neck, he jumped when she shuffled.
“Why you lookin' at me like that,” she groaned, stretching her over-exhausted body into his. Her fingers sought him out, pulling his body closer so she could bury her face in him to escape the light.
“‘Cause you sexy in the mornin’,” he drawled. His cadence was slow, the words slurring because he was both tired and turned on. Annie immediately picked up on his state.
“You betta' stop talkin' to me like that,” she chuckled, clutching onto him tighter. One eye peeked out to take a look at him, and her face flushed with heat from the intensity of his gaze. “Ion know if you ready for all this sexiness.” It came out as a joke based on conversations they'd been having for months about The Feeling and how she'd take care of him when he was ready. Recently, he'd been growing bolder. He complimented her body more—how he loved her thighs and her ass and how her titties sat just right. He allowed The Feeling to linger longer, pressing his needy body up against hers for momentary relief. They’d both been wanting it to the point where it took over their thoughts.
“I'm ready for it,” Smoke groaned, arousal strong. “I can handle all of it.”
Immediately following his declaration, his fingers began dragging along her thighs—because he knew just how to get her in a heady mood. His movements were slow and deliberate, and Annie rewarded him with soft moans before her lips met his. Plush lips against plush lips, their bodies fell into a rhythm of give and take.
They took their time, went carefully because it was still too early in the morning to do anything else. Dew still covered the edges of flowers outside, a crispness in the air that aided the moment.
Annie allowed her fingers to explore the man before her. They outlined the plains of his chest. They dipped over the curves of his abs. And when she came to the edge of his boxers, hers fingers toyed with the material, lips leaving his in time to feel the addicting tremble of his breath.
“You trust me,” she whispered into the quiet air, slow and steady. She held onto him, desperately needing the closeness because something about this was making her feel raw. He responded with a shudder, words broken with need.
“Ye-yes,” he breathed, “I'll always trust you.”
Annie, marveling at his honesty and clarity, almost allowed a moan to escape her lips. There was something about the way he'd been vulnerable about being a virgin, something about the way he trusted her to control this moment. He gave her a feeling that restored something in her, like this was her first time all over again, and in a few years, she might actually consider this It.
She rewarded the man was a kiss to the edge of his jaw, and when her hand found its way into his boxers, that same way-too-addictive shuddering breath landed on her cheek. She dragged her fingers down the length of his dick, capturing his arousal on the tip of a finger.
“I ain’t never,” Smoke choked out, groaning at the view of Annie sucking that finger into her mouth. “I ain’t ever been this turned on before.” And instead of responding with words, the woman simply hummed in acknowledgment before shifting her position on the bed. She pressed the man’s back into the mattress and settled atop his thighs. Unceremoniously, Smoke’s shirt that covered her upper body was pulled over her head, leaving her in nothing but a pair of panties, darkened where they sat against her. “Damn,” he commented, reaching out for her.
His face found comfort between her breasts with practiced ease, and Annie laughed as he held himself there and breathed in her scent.
“You always end up there,” she laughed heartily. And it was true. Whenever he’d had a hard day or a good day or a boring day, all he wanted was to lay up in her chest for comfort. Warm breath ghosted her skin.
“It’s my favorite spot,” he grumbled against her, hands somehow on her thighs again, pulling her into him.
Flushing, Annie reached down and dragged his chin up. She looked into his eyes, and when he melted at the sight of her, she dove in. When their lips met this time, it wasn’t soft and slow and careful; It was sharp and fast and greedy. Smoke’s hands found her hips, and his thumbs wedged found themselves in the groove where hip and thigh met. With ease, motion was made and pace was set. Her clothed pussy grinded against his dick, dragging up the length of him and forcing both of their bodies to shudder.
Smoke had never felt this good in his life. He’d never felt so consumed by something, and he never wanted to feel anything other than this. His palms found her ass next, taking up as much flesh as he could and keeping her hips in that tempting roll. He wanted her, craved her, but when he flipped their position and was leaned over her heaving body, he had no idea how to move forward.
“Baby,” Annie whispered, noticing the way his eyes darted away in a mix of shame and fear. He didn’t look at her straight on, and when her hand came up to his cheek, he jumped in shock. “Elijah,” she whispered to gain his full attention. “I told you I’d take care of you. I got you, and if you wanna stop, we can—”
“I don’t want to,” he nearly shouted, frightened that the very thing he wanted, craved, was beginning to slip from his grasp. Annie’s eyebrows were raised and a goofy smirk tilted her lips. “I-I don’t wanna stop,” he tried again, voice cracking. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, baby,” she breathed pulling him down on top of her. Naturally, her mouth found the edge of his jaw because she couldn’t get enough of that tremble when she did something that felt too good for him to contain it. “Take these off,” she whispered in his ear. Her hands pulled at his boxers—the only thing on his body—and when he moved in a rush to obey her, she removed her own panties.
Kneeling between her open legs, Smoke groaned when he saw her arousal, glistening up at him. His mouth watered. His tip flushed. She was the most beautiful sight, and he made sure she knew that. The man whispered about her beauty into her left ear, how he was addicted to her, how he’d love her the length of his life, how he felt so safe and taken care of. He made sure she knew what she did to him and just how much he needed her in his life.
When the tip of his dick nudged itself between her folds, they both needed a second to collect themselves. Their conjoined warmth and wetness was almost too much to bear, and when Smoke began moving his hips to drag himself across her clit and back down to her entrance, they both wept.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, breath growing heavier. “How you feel so good?” The words were slurred, disbelief dripping off of each syllable, and although he asked the question rhetorically, he was beginning to think maybe he did need some explanation.
“You ain’t even got the tip in yet,” Annie laughed from her chest. She threw her head back when Smoke rubbed her clit back and forth. She was wet enough that she could hear it, and with the way Smoke was looking between her legs, she could only imagine the sight he was being met with. “Make sure you go in at an angle,” she instructed, placing a pillow beneath her lower back. They both needed this to be easy and enjoyable. The longer they waited, the more their arousal clawed through them and the more they grew worried about fucking this up.
What surprised Smoke first was how he slipped inside with such ease, but what surprised him most was how he could feel every shudder, ever shift, every vibration from the inside. With nearly half of his length tucked away inside of her, Annie pulled Smoke down so that their chests were flush, so that their breaths mingled.
“Can I move,” he questioned, voice breaking as he contemplated how long he’d be able to last once she gave him the go ahead. The feeling of her surrounding him was glorious, and the normally unflappable man felt anything but calm.
“Yeah,” she permitted, eyes dazed and dripping with emotion. Annie’s jaw cranked open as she eyed the man above her. They were both perfectly ruined for each other, so gone over the feeling of their bodies becoming one.
His hips moved timidly as he got a feel for the situation. And successfully delivering the man confidence, he stroked her walls in a slow rhythm when her hands landed on his ass in encouragement. Each thrust made them quake. Each drag made them moan. Each breath passed from one to another had them ready to break apart no matter how early in was in their pursuit.
“You doin’ so good, ‘Lijah,” Annie cooed, kissing his temple. His hips sped up, and hers rose to chase him every time he dragged out to the tip.
Breathing shakily, Smoke watched as the sun fell over Annie’s face. It floated through the windows, lighting up her eyes the same way the lights did at that concert—when he first got The Feeling. He decided in that moment, as her brown eyes revealed every fleck of honey in them, that the sun rose just for this. For her.
“You perfect,” he breathed, addicted, and butterflies flooded her body.
Neither of them wanted to tap out just yet. Neither of them wanted to let go. But when Smoke would pull out to the tip, Annie would pulse around him in a way he couldn’t resist. And when he’d bottom out again, a glorious pressure would form in the base of her stomach.
They continued to meet each other in the middle, arms holding on tight, bodies ready to give up the good fight.
And when they came, it was done simultaneously. They couldn’t do anything but surrender together, to each other.
Breaths hot.
Bodies trembling.
Morning dew fading away.
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word count: ~2,200
a/n: i'm still accepting requests! i have one more that i really want to get to, but i'm looking for anything interesting. smut, fluff, angst, whatever you got for me!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The 'Sinners' star and first-time Academy Award nominee fused her love of bold colors and standout fabrics with her needs as a mom-to-be.
marieclairemag
For #Sinners star, Best Supporting Actress nominee, and soon-to-be mother of two @wunmimosaku, the 98th Annual #Oscars red carpet continued her longtime tradition of spotlighting the cultures and creatives behind her looks.
