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
Bimbo!reader after your hookup you and Emo!Choso were quick to become absolutely obsessed with each other, and soon got into a relationship.
The two of you are already walking around, holding hands on campus, and making him sit at your lunch table with your friends. Your friends marvel at the two of you, the two of you who are so different, paired together like you guys have been for years. It also didn’t help that, when your friends first met Emo!Choso, they presumably think he’s scary-looking. But in reality is a sweetie. As he warms up he’s incredibly nice to your friends and always offers to give you and your friends rides if needed. On the other hand, his intimidating looks did help at times.
Emo! Choso who acts as your scary buff tattooed dog, warding off anyone who you don’t want talking to you. Choso naturally looked either pissed off, or tired, or both, which made people anxious to go up to him or talk to him. With him, people were less interested in saying what they wanted to about your slutty outfits with him around, or making jokes about how you were dumb. At parties, if any guy came up to you, trying to dance, or flirt he’d simply grab you and pull you to him. Immediately the guy warding off, seeing that you were Choso’s.
Emo! Choso who’s really quiet and usually lets you do all the talking, letting you drag him around everywhere and just let you talk to whoever, while he stands there holding your hand, watching you admiringly the whole time.
Emo!choso who absolutely adores you. He thinks you’re incredibly nice and outgoing, something he really admires in you, especially for such a quiet guy like him. Who listens to every word you say, and anything you babble on about, hanging on to every word. Who truly thinks you’re the best thing to come into his life. Pink, glimmer, sparkles, and all. And of course, he thinks you’re the prettiest and hottest girl he’s ever fucking seen in his life. Even back in class when you were just flirting with him, and he still hadn’t picked up the hints he thought that. Thinking about what he’d do to get you as his girl. No matter how much time passes he still can’t believe he gets to call you his girlfriend.
Emo!Choso who lets you color in his tattoos with makeup or washable markers. Coloring in the black inky lines on his body, making his whole body an open coloring book for your enjoyment.
Emo! Choso who lets you play on his guitar and video games. Sitting behind you as you hold his electric guitar in your hand. Carefully placing your fingers where they need to go, teaching you a few chords, and strumming patterns here and there. Letting you play his video games, and teaching you the controls and lore behind his favorite games. Helping you at levels you can’t get, and even buying some cute girly games you like just for you to play on his PC.
Emo!Choso who pays the fuck attention to details. How you do your makeup. How your moods change. The brands you buy from. The little habits and knacks you have. The clothes you wear. Your drink order. Your messy schedule that changes a million times due to your unorganized and undisciplined behavior. Choso who doesn’t even realize how much your life he adapts to, and memorizes like the back of his hand, it’s like second nature. Making your heart swell every time he surprises you with your drink from your favorite place, made exactly right. Or when he gifts you a piece of clothing or accessories from your favorite authentic Y2K/ Mcbling brand that costs a fortune to get. Or when you keep changing plans and he follows right along. It makes you love him even more.
Emo!Choso who lets you drag him to dead stock and thrift stores, being used as a coat rack, and carrying all your possessions. While also serving as a judge to each piece of clothing you try on, he really isn’t great since he thinks everything looks good on you (it does).
Emo!choso, who in return drags you to concerts for his fav emo and alternative artists, letting you do his makeup in smudgy eyeliner and black eyeshadow. Holding tight to you at the concert, making sure no one gets too close into your space while you both try to enjoy the show.
Emo! Choso who lets you pick out his next piercing and tattoo. Always with you occupying him as he gets them done with you sitting in the chair nearby, looking all pretty, making the hours ease by as the needle dips into his skin. Who also gets nipple piercings so he can match yours, trading jewelry, and once letting you put your pink nipple jewelry in his.
Emo!Choso who loves your style. Cut off crop tops, tiny miniskirts, g-strings, and thongs that you have rest on your hips, purposefully displayed as an accessory. He especially likes the real slutty fits you wear out, giving him a perfect view of your ass and tits. Choso who after a while has to take you to the car, into the back seat. Hiking up your crop top to watch those tits bounce, while pushing up your miniskirt, and pulling your thong to the side so you can ride him. Getting your juices all over his leather seats and fogging up the car windows as you bounce on his cock like a dumb whore. Pussy greedily slurping him up. And after he’ll cum inside you and pull your panties back up, making you sit in your mess as he drives back home and you squirming in your seat.
Emo!Choso whose favorite thing is you riding him. You just rocking your hips and bouncing on him, using him for your own pleasure as he sits back and takes it. He loves it when he can just be a good boy for you and let himself be a toy for you to use and play with. Milking his cock of all his cum, overstimulating him after he’s came multiple times. Twitching and shaking with each bounce, ass hitting against his pelvis. Shooting blanks from how much he’s came. God, he’s just so perfect.
Emo!Choso who also loves to bend you over and fuck you from behind, turning you into a fucked out whore on his big dick. Or lying you down all sweetly, making eye contact, and holding your hands as you hiccup and cry from how good it feels. Muttering sweet nothings in your ear with m, “oh that’s my sweet girl,” “so good baby, yeah take this dick ah-fuck yes,” “poor baby all fucked out, is it too much?” he says with honest sympathy and care in his voice. So sweet and dominating.
Emo!Choso who lets you experiment on him. Trying new positions, kinks, toys, etc. Who’s fairly open to anything and lets you use him like your own personal experiment. Letting you use your vibrator on him. Stuffing your panties into his mouth. Putting a collar on him and attaching a leash, while calling him your ‘dog’ or ‘puppy.’ Tying him up and teasing his cock with all your holes, preventing him from cumming.
Bimbo!reader who also lets Choso experiment with your body just as much. Putting a butt plug in your ass before going out. Making sex tapes, so he can watch and jerk off to them later. Letting him cockwarm you for hours, and falling asleep with it in. Buying you toys so he can watch as you try them out and fuck yourself with them. Letting his best friend, Emo!Suguru fuck your sweet pussy while he fucks your face.
Emo!Choso who needs you pussy like water at times, begging to eat it, so he can get through the day, or needing it after a long day of lectures, and it’s the only thing that can bring him any comfort. It’s like a haven for him as he slurps up your juices like a man starved. Holding and squeezing your waist, stuffing his face full of you to drown himself in. Sometimes having to force him to let up, so he can breathe and not suffocate. He just gets so pussy drunk on your addictive pussy. He swears it’s like drugs.
Bimbo!reader who loooves sucking his cock. Feeling those metal piercings rest cool on your tongue and deep throating his big cock down to the back of your throat. Smacking the tip on your tongue as you look up at him, giggling and smiling with the brightest look in your eyes. Sometimes even just popping his cock in your mouth when you feel bored while you’re watching TV or on your phone.
Speaking of those dick piercings. You love when he’s inside you fucking you with those thick metal balls, pressing and gliding against your walls. Making you feel all fuzzy inside from how they feel in your slippery walls. Like little sensory points knocking at each hilt, finding the little nerves inside you that you didn’t know could be hit. And bringing you to climax harder than any other cock has, soaking those black metal piercings with your creamy cum.
Emo!Choso and Bimbo!reader who are so incredibly freaked out, but are inseparable. The true other halves to each other.
zendaya is old hollywood personified: the return of the god-like movie star. we’ll still talk about her decades from now because honest to god? no one has a more impressive run. z is playing the whole industry like a violin. queen was swinging from the ceiling right into zac efron’s shook ass face, had bruno mars serenading her pathetically, was kissed by hunter schafer and jacob elordi, bisexualized two tennis players, married actual spider man, was mugler’s muse, stunned the met gala, bagged a pattinson wedding movie, became nolan’s athena, and had enough game to be cracking lisan al gaib all across the whole damn desert. call her tashi duncan the way zendaya scores. playing 3D chess since the beginning y’all this is generational range
It's a bird! It's a plane! No...it's just ANOTHER COLLAB EVENT AND SEXY SUPERHEROES! Or maybe a SEXY SUPERVILLAINS?!
Coming to you and cumming for you! Made in a tube, straight from outer space, or maybe just born with it?! Super strength, super speed, super flight AND a super sex in the bedroom! Find more info below and get a romance (or a f*ck) worthy of a comic book! -love, Jazz
Credits: Gojo art made by armansmind! Dividers made by @pixopix and @cafekitsune!
Premise: Superhero & villains!! (Superman!Gojo, Redhood!Geto, Venom!Toji, Wolverine!Nanami, etc. ) Any JJK character you choose can be a superhero, villain OR maybe a civilian falling for Superhero/Supervillian!Reader. Get creative!!
How To Join: Just comment below or shoot me a DM! You can tell me your idea later and I'll add it below! There is no due date. Just let me know when you post your story & tag the collab in your post! (Need A Hero or Villain Collab)
Rules: JJK Characters ONLY.
-NSFW and SFW allowed. Multi fics allowed (you can write more than one fic).
-Reader x multi character fics allowed.
-Dark themes are allowed BUT please run them by me first! (9/10 I'll be down for it lol).
-Repeat characters allowed too!
Hard Limits: NO SCAT PLAY, RACE PLAY, AGE PLAY, CONVERSION PLAY OR SNUFF!
🃏Insane for your love🃏 (by @laylathegoddesss) - Joker!Choso x Bimbo Therapist!Reader
Captain Save A Ho! ❤️💙 (by @yorikae) - Superman!Gojo x Assistant!Reader
Codeword: F.U.C.K.M.E. (by @jazzthatonewriterchick) - Nightwing!Gojo x Spy!Reader x Redhood!Geto
TBA (by @yorikae) - Deadpool!Gojo x Wolverine!Reader
TBA (by @jazzthatonewriterchick) - Superman!Gojo x Reporter!Reader
Spider-Man Is My Hot Roommate?! (by @jazzthatonewriterchick) - Spideygojo/Roommate!Gojo x Black Cat!Reader
TBA (@its-luna-noel) - Captain America!Gojo x Winter Soldier!Reader
Cat Got Ya Tongue, Handsome? (by @jazzthatonewriterchick) - Batman!Higuruma x Catwoman!Reader
TBA (by @lostsoulolol) - Nightwing!Toji x Reader
TBA (by @jazzthatonewriterchick) - College Nerd!Choso x Starfire!Reader
TBA (by @jazzthatonewriterchick) - Deadpool!Gojo x Nerd!Reader x Wolverine!Nanami
TBA (by @angeliqueprincesa) - College Student/Spiderman!Yuuji x Reader
stack definitely the type to bully you while you got his dick in your mouth
just talking shit while grinning and looking down at you
i feel like that nigga really would hurt his girl feelings lol 😭
he get carried away with the shit too telling you how you suck dick too pretty and then force it down your throat
he not a overly serious daddy dom like smoke is or mysterious daddy dom that keeps you coming back like Erik
i feel like he genuinely just be playing with you because he don't take shit seriously 😭 lol
like overly playful and doing to much and just overall disrespectful as fuck but the dick be hitting so you keep coming back
Confessions Restaurant & Lounge pulses with booming 808 basslines of UGK, Z-Ro & Trae Tha Truth. Thick Southern drawl in every Dirty South lyric that matched the crowd moving below. Brown skin, dark skin, copper skin, deep mahogany skin caught the strobe lights and threw it back in flashes. Gold hoops swung. Rings glimmered. Fresh lineups, silk presses, locs, curls, braids, and fades moved through the sea of black people like art in motion. Everywhere you looked, somebody was laughing. Heads tipped back. Hands slapped shoulders. You could see girls huddled and gossiping while sipping vibrant drinks that snuck up on them like a chill. Bodies packed the main floor, women in lace jumpsuits, tight dresses, skirts that barely covered ass, stilettos and platforms. Men wearing sneakers straight out the box, all the jewelry in their collection, grills gleaming like rainbows. Women twerked low to the southern beats while men watched from the edges with drinks in hand.
Up in the private VIP section, separated by velvet ropes and a low glass partition that let the noise in but kept the space exclusive. Plush black leather couches lined the walls, low tables scattered with bottles of top-shelf liquor and ashtrays holding half-smoked blunts.
Stack sat back in the center couch, one arm draped along the backrest, black shirt open at the collar to show the gold chains layered against his brown skin. His tailored pants fit sharp over his athletic frame, expensive loafers planted wide, rings catching the colored lights every time he lifted his glass.
She sat right beside him, thigh pressed against his. Her dress clung like it was painted on, short enough to show the length of her legs and cut low to frame the curve of her chest, the fabric shimmering. She held her posture straight, shoulders back, chin lifted just enough to project that ice-queen distance she wore like armor. Her eyes stayed sharp, scanning the room with cool assessment, and every time Stack leaned in, she answered with clipped words or a raised brow that dared him to push further.
Stack watched her for a long moment, the mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes narrowing as he read the attitude rolling off her. His honeyed, Mississippi drawl came low, meant only for her ear over the thump of the music.
“You been runnin’ that mouth all night like you forgot where you at. Like you forgot who put you in this section, who decides how long you stay.” His free hand rested on her knee, fingers pressing just firm enough to remind her of the grip he could tighten. “You know who you belong to. You know what happens if you keep givin’ me that look, like you too good for a reminder.”
She shifted in her seat slightly but didn’t pull away, her expression staying composed even as the tension between them rose. Stack’s thumb traced a slow line along her skin, his gaze dropping briefly to the way her dress rode up before lifting back to her face.
“Keep it up and I’ma put you right where you need to be. On your knees in this booth…throat open while the music covers every sound you make…you think that attitude protects you out there but in here…it just tells me how bad you want the correction.”
His voice always stayed smooth, flirtatious on the surface but edged with the control he wielded so easily. It made her pulse quicken despite the cool mask she kept in place.
Stack fixed her with that sharp, amused stare.
“Why the fuck you show up if you can’t stand me?”
She crossed her arms, her posture stiff and eyes darting to the crowd beyond them. “I came for the music. That’s all.”
He chuckled low at first, then let it roll out fuller, shaking his head like she’d told the best joke he’d heard all night.
“Nah. Don’t play that. You knew I’d be here. So what’s the real reason?”
“Drop it,” she whispered, turning her shoulder slightly away.
Stack leaned in closer, his gold chains catching the colored lights. His lips brushed her cheek, nose pressed against her hair, taking a sniff.
“I don’t like being ignored. You hear me? Answer the question.”
She stayed quiet, jaw tight, refusing to meet his gaze even as the tension pulled tighter between them. Her eyes flicked down for a split second, catching the thick outline pressing against his pants, heavy and obvious. She snapped her focus back up fast, but not fast enough.
Stack caught the glance, his lips curving into a slow grin. He chuckled, the sound warm and knowing.
“What you lookin’ at?”
She shifted her weight, voice flat. “You know what I’m looking at.”
Stack reached out without hesitation, catching her wrist and guiding her hand straight to the fat bulge in his pants. Her palm landed against the heat and solid weight of it, fingers brushing the shape through the fabric. She rolled her eyes hard, pulling her usual ice back into place like armor, expression bored and distant even as her hand stayed where he put it.
Stack watched her face the whole time, reading every flicker she tried to hide.
“Yeah, I see you. Actin’ like you don’t care, but your hand ain’t moving.” His voice dropped lower, rough around the edges with that familiar taunt. “You gon’ keep playing games or you gon’ get on your knees and suck this dick?”
The question hung between them just like that fat dick twitching hard beneath her hand, a sudden pulse that made the thick shaft jump against her fingers. Heat radiated through the fabric, intense and alive, the warmth seeping into her skin like it was trying to brand her. She could feel every detail—the fat girth stretching the material taut, the way it throbbed with a steady pulse that matched the bass from the club floor, the subtle ridge along the underside that hinted at its veined length. It was solid, unyielding, and growing firmer by the second under her touch, the warmth building until it felt almost feverish.
She bit down on her lower lip, teeth sinking in to trap the moan that threatened to slip out. Her body betrayed her even as she kept her expression locked in that icy mask, eyes narrowed and jaw set like she was above all this. But her mouth watered anyway, saliva pooling at the thought of wrapping around that big dick, and her clit thumped insistently between her thighs, a dull ache that pulsed in time with the twitch she felt in her palm. Defiance kept her spine straight and her shoulders squared, but the way her fingers curled just slightly against the bulge gave her away, pressing in to feel more of that thick, warm weight.
Stack’s eyes never left her face, noticing the way her breath hitched despite her best efforts.
“That’s what I thought.” Stack whispered, shifting his hips just enough to grind the print harder into her hand.
Stack didn’t wait for an answer. His free hand went to his pants, unzipping with a quick pull that freed the heavy length of his dick. It sprang out thick and dark, the fat head glistening with a bead of precum, veins pulsing along the shaft. She couldn’t tear her eyes from it, the sight locking her in place even as her fingers stayed pressed against the warm skin now exposed.
Stack laughed low, the sound rumbling from his chest as he caught the way her gaze locked on, wide and hungry despite the stubborn set of her jaw.
“Look at that face,” he taunted, voice thick with amusement and that Mississippi drawl. “Eyes all big like you ain’t never seen a dick this size before. You actin’ like you too good but your mouth’s damn near droolin’. Go on, admit it…that look says you want every inch down your throat.”
Stack’s hips thrusted upward, positioning that fat dick straight up so it stood rigid against his stomach, the full weight of his balls hanging heavy and tight below. It twitched visibly, the shaft bobbing with each rush of blood, the warmth radiating off it in waves that she felt even from inches away. The head flared dark and slick, a thick vein running the underside that throbbed in time with the southern bass.
Her defiance cracked right there. She gave in with a sharp breath, sliding down to her knees without another word, dress bunched at her waist, bare ass resting on her heels. Her hands reached to grip his thighs as her lips parted. The heat hit her first when she leaned in, that feverish warmth from his skin making her clit throb harder between her legs.
Stack’s dick stood heavy and rigid in front of her face, a network of raised veins pulsing along its length. The fat head flared wide, shiny with a bead of precum that stretched into a thin string when she leaned in. Her mouth watered openly now, tongue flicking out to taste the tip before her lips parted and stretched around the broad crown, struggling to take the girth as she sank down. Saliva welled up fast, coating the upper half of his shaft in a glossy sheen that caught the strobe lights every time she bobbed.
Stack’s hand rested on the back of her head, rings heavy against her hair. He let her work for a few strokes, watching her cheeks hollow and her throat flex. Then, he gave a short push that forced another inch inside.
“That mouth tryin’, ain’t it?” He said, voice low and taunting. “You call that sucking, baby? Feel like you just holding it.”
She tried to take more, jaw aching, but he tightened his grip and eased her back until the head remained between her lips like she was sucking on a lollipop. A wet pop sounded when he pulled free completely. His dick swayed, slick and heavy, the veins standing out darker now from the suction. Stack tapped his fat head against her cheek twice, leaving wet marks and sticky trails of pre cum.
“Nah. Lick it proper first. Base to tip. Slow. Show me you want it.”
Her tongue dragged along the underside, tracing every ridge and vein, saliva dripping from her chin onto her cleavage. Stack watched with half-lidded eyes, the corner of his mouth lifted, dimple peeking. When she reached the head and swirled her tongue around it, he let her suck the tip again for a moment before yanking her off once more.
“Greedy. You ain’t earned the whole thing yet.”
Stack gripped the base with one hand, angling the thick length so the head brushed her parted lips but stayed just out of reach. She leaned forward; he leaned back an inch, keeping the distance.
“Uh-uh. Ask nice. Tell me what that mouth is good for.”
Her answer came out hoarse, “for sucking this big dick.”
Stack rewarded her with a single swallow thrust that barely stretched her lips before withdrawing again. Spit trailed from her lower lip to the head of his dick.
“That’s better,” he said, feeding her another inch, then two, until her nose nearly brushed his trimmed hair.
He held her there, feeling her throat flutter around the fat intrusion, then pulled her off completely. His dick glistened from root to tip, strands of spit connecting her mouth to the head. Stack slapped it lightly against her tongue, the weight of it making a soft pat-pat sound.
“Breathe. Then try again. And don’t stop until I say.”
She dove back in, lips sliding down the veined girth with more determination, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth. Stack’s fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her but never letting her set the pace herself. Every few strokes he would ease her back, denying her the deeper reach she chased, his voice smooth and cutting above her.
“Still half-assing it. Open that throat or I’ll do it for you.”
That fat head popped free again, shiny and swollen, and he dragged it across her lips in a slow tease before letting her have it once more. She slid back down on him, lips straining wide around the broad crown, but Stack’s fingers tightened in her hair and he gave a low chuckle that held no warmth.
“Nah. I don’t want that pretty dick sucking either. You hear me?” He yanked her off with a wet pop, dick swinging heavy and slick, thickness coated in ropes of spit that dripped from the tip down to the base where veins stood out dark and pulsing. His fat length twitched, shiny and obscene, Stack slapping it on her tongue again.
“Open wider. Get nasty wit’ it. I want spit running down my balls, not this tidy little bob you think pass for sucking.”
Stack fed that wide tip back between her lips but only halfway, holding her there while she sucked softly, then pulled free once more so his entire veined girth glistened and swayed in her face in a hypnotic dance. Her chin was shiny, drool sliding down her neck. Stack angled his dick so the head brushed her cheek, leaving a wet smear.
“Look at that. You tryna keep it cute? Fuck that. Slobber on it like the greedy slut you is.”
Stack pushed her face lower, making her tongue drag along the underside where a thick vein pulsed against her taste buds, then let her suck the tip again only to deny her the rest. Every time she tried to sink deeper he eased back, the fat crown popping free shiny and swollen, strings of spit connecting her mouth to his dick.
“That’s right. Make a mess. I want it dripping off my shit ‘fore I even think ‘bout letting you choke on the whole thing.” His free hand stroked the base once, slow, showing her the full heavy length before tapping it against her parted lips. “Breathe through your nose and get sloppy. Or I’ll just fuck that throat myself.”
She stopped fighting the urge and let it happen, drool spilling freely from the corners of her mouth as she worked her tongue along every inch he allowed. Spit coated the full length of his dick, thick strands stretching and snapping each time she pulled back for air. Wet trails ran down her throat and soaked the neckline of her dress. Stack watched with a satisfied smirk, his grip in her hair firm.
“There it is,” he said, voice low and approving in that mocking way he had. “Look how quick you got it. All I had to do was tell you once and now you making a proper mess. Easy, ain’t it?” He let her sink a little deeper on her own, the head of his dick nudging the back of her throat before he eased her off again. “Follow directions and this shit get simple. No need for all that fuckin’ attitude you walked in wit’. Just open up and slobber like I said.”
Her tongue dragged heavy and wet under his shaft, spit bubbling at the corners as she tried to take more without being told. Stack chuckled, tapping his slick head against her lips before sliding it back in halfway.
“Yeah, just like that. See how much better it feels when you stop pretending? You can act like you run shit out there, but right here you follow every word, makes my job easy too.”
His fat crown pressed deeper while spit poured down over his balls. The wet sounds filled the VIP space, louder than the muffled bass from the club floor. Stack’s free hand rested on her jaw, thumb stroking the slick skin as he held her in place for a moment.
“Keep going exactly like that. No fancy tricks just the nasty shit I asked for. You do that and we both get what we want.”
She kept at it without hesitation, her mouth working steadily over every inch he gave her. Spit ran in heavy streams down his thick dick and over his heavy balls, soaking the front of his pants where they hung open. Her tongue pressed flat and eager, dragging wet and thorough each time she pulled back before sinking forward again. No resistance left in the way she moved, just the steady rhythm he had set for her.
“You really can’t stand me, huh? Always got that look like you wanna slap the smirk off my face. But here you are again, lips stretched around my dick like it’s the only thing that shuts you up. Every single time you swear this the last…you end up on your knees. Can’t leave it alone, can you?”
He rocked his hips forward once, testing how deep she would take it on her own. She did, throat working around the head without pulling away. More spit bubbled out and dropped onto the floor between his feet. Stack laughed, thumb brushing the corner of her stretched mouth.
“Look at this mess you making. All ‘cause you can’t stay away from what you claim to hate. I tell you to get sloppy and you do it like it’s second nature. Follow every word I give you, even when you glaring at me with those sharp eyes. You hate how easy it is. Hate that you keep coming back for more of this.”
The club music thumped somewhere beyond the VIP curtain, but in here it was only the sound of her wet lips and his voice laying out every contradiction.
“You walk ‘round like nobody can touch you, but the second I tell you to open up you turn into this. Can’t stand me, yet you can’t stop sucking me off every chance you get. Makes me wonder what you’d do if I told you to stop right now. Bet you’d keep goin’ anyway, just to prove you can walk away whenever you want. We both know better.”
Stack rose to his full height, glass in hand, the ice clinking as he took a slow sip. He looked down at her on her knees, eyes locked on the way her lips stayed wrapped around him.
“No hands,” Stack commanded. “Just that mouth. Work it like you mean it. All jaws, no shortcuts.”
She adjusted without a word, hands dropping to her sides. Her jaw flexed as she pushed forward, taking more of him in one steady glide. She moved like she knew exactly how to angle it, cheeks hollowing on each pull, tongue pressing hard along the underside with every stroke.
Stack watched her, drink still in one hand while the other rested at his side.
“That’s it. Suck that dick like the pro you are when nobody’s watching. Look at you, throat working overtime. You act like you hate my guts when we in public but in here you swallow every gahdamn inch of this dick like it’s your favorite meal.”
Stack rocked his hips once, testing her rhythm, and she took it deeper without pulling back. More spit spilled over her bottom lip and ran down his balls. Stack chuckled, low and rough.
“Admit it. You love this big dick. Say it while you got it stuffed in your mouth. Tell me how much you love choking on it every time you swear you done wit’ me.”
She refused to give him that satisfaction with words but her jaw worked harder, the wet sounds filling the space between them. Stack took another sip, eyes never leaving her face.
“Come on. I wanna hear it. You can’t leave this alone ‘cause you love how it fills your throat. You love gettin’ bullied while you drool all over it. Say the words.” Her pace stayed relentless, lips stretched tight. Stack tilted his head, voice turning sharper. “That’s my mean girl, keep going. Admit everything. How you can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout this dick even when you give me attitude. Say it loud enough so I know you mean it.”
Stack held still, letting her drive the motion, watching every bob of her head and every flex of her throat as she worked him deeper. The club noise stayed muffled beyond the curtain while he sipped again, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction.
“Good girl. Now keep that mouth moving and tell me the rest. How bad you need it. How you hate yourself for loving every second of this.”
Stack yanked his dick free from her throat, gripping the base and started smacking the heavy length across her face. Each slap landed with a wet thud, the head dragging over her cheek, across her lips, up to her forehead, leaving shiny streaks behind. He did it slow at first, then faster. Her eyes watered but she kept them open, staring up at him.
“I can’t fucking stand you,” she rasped, voice thick and broken from how deep she’d been taking him. “But I love it. I love all of it. This big dick, the way it stretches my throat, how you make me kneel and take it. I love choking on every inch even when I swear I hate you.”
Stack let out a low chuckle, the sound dark and amused. He slapped his dick harder against her cheek, then dragged it down to smack her chin.
“Look at this pathetic face. Sayin’ you can’t stand me while my dick all over it. You love it so much you drooling just from the words. Go on, keep talkin’. Tell me how bad you need this dick you claim to hate.”
He kept the pace going, smacking the thick shaft over her nose and lips, the wet slaps echoing in the VIP section. Spit flew with each strike. Her expression stayed wrecked, mouth open, tongue half out like she couldn’t help chasing it.
“That’s right,” he mocked, voice smooth even as he bullied her with his dick. “Admit it all. You sneak around just to get treated like this. Can’t get enough of how I make you feel like nothin’ but a hole for me to use. Say it louder.”
She swallowed, throat working, and kept going between the hits.
“I love this big dick more than anything. I love how you make me do this, how you don’t let me use my hands, how you laugh at me while I beg for it. I hate you but I can’t stop wanting every second of it.”
Stack grinned, dimples flashing, and gave one final slap across both cheeks with his tip girth before pressing the head against her lips again.
“Good. Now open up and prove it.”
She proved it right away. Her lips parted wide and she took him back in, sucking hard and sloppy like she was desperate for some prize at the end. Her tongue worked the underside in fast strokes while she bobbed her head, cheeks sunken with every pull. Spit ran down her chin and dripped onto her dress as she pushed deeper, taking more of him without any hesitation.
Stack felt his dick swell thicker in her mouth, the head pulsing against her tongue as he got closer. He groaned low and gripped her hair tighter.
“You want my nut that bad, huh? Look at you workin’ for it. Tell me where you want it. How bad you need it.”
She pulled off just enough to speak, voice hoarse and frantic between licks.
“And want it so bad, Stack. Give me that nut. I want it all over my face, down my throat, anywhere you say. I need it more than anything right now. Please, just cum for me.”
Stack chuckled again, mocking and low. “Hold still then. Grab my glass and don’t spill a drop.”
She reached up with one shaking hand and took the glass from him, holding it steady while he planted both palms on her head. Stack drove forward, fucking her throat in hard, steady thrusts. His hips snapped towards her face as he chased his release, using her mouth like it was made for exactly this.
Stack’s body tensed hard, his hips jerking forward one last time before he yanked his dick free from her throat with a wet pop. Thick ropes of cum erupted from the swollen head, the first heavy spurt landing across her cheek and splattering up toward her eye in a hot, sticky line. More followed in powerful pulses, each one shooting out in long, creamy strands that painted her face white. His load was massive, costing her skin in heavy globs that dripped down her jaw and onto the neckline of her dress.
His face twisted in raw pleasure, brows furrowed deep, full lips parted around a guttural groan that built into a low, drawn-out moan. His deep brown eyes narrowed to slits, lashes fluttering as his chest heaved, the veins in his neck standing out while he emptied himself with a stutter of his hips. Stack aimed the next burst lower, letting the cum land directly on her wiggling tongue as she held it out for him, the warm fluid pooling there in a thick puddle before overflowing down her chin.
“Fuck, that’s it.” He rasped, voice thick and taunting even as his dick twitched through the last shots. “Look at all that nut on your pretty face. You earned every drop, didn’t you?”
She didn’t pull away, instead leaning in to suck the remaining cum from his still-hard length. Her lips sealing around the head and milking him clean with slow, tight pulls until nothing more came out. Stack watched her with a smirk, his hand still tangled in her hair as he praised her through the taunts.
“Good girl, swallowing what you can and wearing the rest like a badge. Such a nasty little slut for me, huh? Bet you love feeling it cool on your skin.”
She rolled her eyes at him from her knees, the gesture full of attitude even with his cum streaking her face. Stack burst out laughing, the sound rich and amused as he tilted her chin higher with one finger.
“There she is. Always got that fire, even when she’s covered in me.”
I think about Naive!Reader and Fresh Out of Prison!Simon on the subway.
cw: 18+ mdni, nsfw.
And how he’d make naive!reader sit in his lap when he notices and older woman standing in subway isle.
“Thank you, both of you.” The older woman giggles as she takes the empty seat.
“‘S no problem ma’am.” Simon nods, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “She’s so cute isnt she love?”
You can’t even focus, his hardened erection pressing into your ass, in those jeans that Simon loves so much. Couldnt stop staring at the way your thighs spread as you sat down, every curve on you, that charm you have in your brown eyes. You wiggle in his lap but he only presses you down harder, he tsks in your ear, “Don’t move baby, or everyone ‘ere will see just what you do t’me.”
You feel him grow with every shake of the train against you, only smirking as he sees the way you can’t look anyone near you in the eye, heat rising under your skin with that slightly tense look on your face. You try your best to give a smile and wave to the old woman but Simons hands roll down your skin, down your your thighs that makes chills run down your spine, “Bloody hell, can’t wait t’ get off of ‘ere, fuck you right against the wall in the alley across the street from our stop, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”
Your lips purse out, breath hitching, “Simon!”
“ ‘F Course you would doll,” he draws out, calloused hands going to your hips, giving them a nice squeeze, humping up into you, “Or should I have you keep keep my cock warm right here, sliding it in your hole so eeeeveryone can see that pretty face you only make with me-“
You can’t help the little mewl you let out, his covered manhood pressing against your cunt, “Simon-“
“—I know, I know swee’art,” he coos, kissing your cheek, “Won’t do tha’ to ya.”
The subway rattles again and you bite the inside of your lips, nervous eyes flickering down into the mahogany brown eyes staring back at you. Glint shimmering in them.
“Not here, anyway.”
Simon lets his hand caress the apple of your cheeks from behind, squeeze them together that makes him chuckle, “Would you let me take you to the bathroom though? Hm love?”
You play with your fingers, checking the time on your phone, before muttering so quietly, “For j-just a little bit, I don’t wanna miss my show tonight.”
And the older man underneath you groans happily, eyes crinkling, rubbing his hand up and down your back, you’ve made the man go red in the face, “M just jokin baby, god, you’re so fuckin loveable.”
°~887 words, fluff, short excerpt from a longer story, hangout day (nails, food, shopping, smoke sesh), suggestive talk, etc°
༻18+ 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓓𝓸 𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽༺
The smell of monomer and hibiscus tea filled the air as you sat side-by-side in the plush pedicure chairs. Your hands were resting on the manicure stations, and for the first time, your sets were perfectly coordinated. You had chosen a stunning, mid-length acrylic in a deep, midnight blue, accented with shimmering glitter lines that caught the overhead LED lights like constellations. Beside you, his large hands were resting on the towel, his nails freshly manicured and painted that same, flat midnight blue—no glitter, just the plain, bold color.
He looked incredible. Even in the clinical lighting of the salon, he was so attractive. You found yourself staring, taking in the way his features seemed to spill over with a kind of effortless perfection—the crispness of his fresh fade, the sharp, dark line of his beard, and the way the blue polish made the smooth, brown tone of his skin look even deeper, even more radiant.
He was leaning back, one hand occupied by the technician and the other scrolling through an article on his phone. He was so secure in himself, so grounded in his masculinity, that he didn't even blink at the curious glances from other patrons. He was a real man—the kind who didn't need to perform toughness because he simply was tough. He was smart, always reading or learning something new, and he communicated with a clarity that made you feel safe. He was kind to the staff, cracking a small, respectful joke that had your nail tech giggling, and his consideration for you was a constant, steady thing in the background of your life.
You loved him so much it felt like a physical weight in your chest.
After the salon, he took you to that bistro you loved. The afternoon was bright, and the anticipation was already starting to coil in your stomach. You watched him across the table as he ate, his dark blue nails a constant visual reminder that he was yours and would do whatever you wanted. He kept you laughing the entire time, telling a story about a work mishap with such a witty delivery that you nearly choked on your drink.
He reached across the table, his thumb—painted that beautiful blue—catching a stray drop of sauce from the corner of your lip. He didn't just wipe it away; he lingered, his eyes dark and communicative, telling you exactly what he was thinking without saying a word.
“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he murmured, his voice a making the fine hairs on your arms stand up.
After lunch, you went to the home goods store. This was your favorite part of being with him—the domesticity. You walked through the aisles, and he was right there with you, picking out a new set of white towels and a heavy, weighted throw blanket for the bed. He was decisive, helping you choose the scents for the new candles—vanilla and bourbon—and the way he talked about your home, the space you shared, made you feel at peace.
Every time his blue-tipped hand brushed against yours while you reached for a vase or a set of glasses, a spark of heat shot up your arm. The anticipation was thick now, a heavy, sweet tension that sat low in your belly.
By the time you made it back to the car, the sun was beginning its slow, honey-colored descent. The sky was a bruised palette of purple and orange, casting long, dramatic shadows across the leather interior. He started the engine but didn't pull out of the parking spot yet. Instead, he reached into the center console and pulled out a pre-roll.
He lit it, the cherry glowing bright in the dimming light. He took a long, slow pull, the smoke curling around his head like a halo before he passed it to you. You took it, your blue glitter nails sparkling as you brought it to your lips, the earthy, sweet scent filling the small space of the car.
The silence between you was comfortable, filled only by the distant sounds of the evening and the soft rhythm of your breathing. You leaned your head back against the headrest, the high starting to settle in—a warm, fuzzy cloak that made everything feel soft and surreal. You turned your head to the side, watching him.
The sunset hit his profile perfectly. It highlighted the bridge of his nose, the fullness of his lips, and the way his throat moved when he swallowed. He looked like a god in this light—strong, intelligent, and utterly beautiful. You were staring, your heart in your eyes, unable to look away from the man who handled you with such care and fucked you with such devastating intensity.
He felt the weight of your gaze. He didn't turn his head right away; he just let out a slow plume of smoke, his fingers tapping a slow beat against the steering wheel. Finally, he turned. His hooded eyes met yours, dark and searching in the twilight. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth—the look of a man who knew he was loved and wasn't afraid to revel in it.
"Why you lookin' at me like that?" he asked, his voice a deep, quiet drawl that seemed to curl in the very air between you.
You didn't blink. You just let the smoke escape your lips in a slow, ghostly trail, your heart hammering against your ribs.
"I don't know what you're talking about," you whispered, your voice thick and sweet with the lie.
He huffed a soft laugh, his hand reaching over to cup the back of your neck, his thumb—matching yours—tracing the sensitive skin behind your ear.
"Liar," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "We'll see how long you keep that energy when we get inside."
Summary: At the premiere of Sinners, Michael B. Jordan becomes intrigued by an interviewer whose unique style stands out from everyone else on the red carpet. Their playful interview and undeniable chemistry quickly go viral online, with fans obsessing over every interaction between them. After running into each other again at another event, the connection between them grows more genuine away from the cameras, eventually leading Michael to finally ask her out.
A/N: I’ve been wanting to write for him for a while I hope you guys enjoy. Also leave some comments if you liked it. And you can ask if there’s anything or anyone you want me to write about.
The carpet outside the premiere for Sinners was loud in the way only Hollywood premieres could be.
Cameras flashing nonstop.
Publicists yelling names over each other.
Reporters trying to squeeze in one last question before talent got pulled away.
And through all of it, Michael B. Jordan moved through the chaos like he’d been born for it. Black suit perfectly tailored. Gold watch catching under the lights. Easy smile. Calm. Controlled.
Everybody around him looked exactly how you expected them to look at an event like this.
Neutral colors.
Designer gowns.
Safe.
Predictable.
Then his eyes landed on you.
And he paused.
Not long enough for anyone else to notice.
But long enough for his manager walking beside him to follow his line of sight.
You were standing near the middle of the press line holding a microphone with your station’s logo on it, waiting for your turn. Your outfit looked nothing like everybody else’s. A patchwork mini dress in warm jewel tones hugged your body before falling into soft ruffled layers, paired with vintage Dior mule heels covered in handwritten-style details and tiny carved hearts. Gold coin anklets wrapped around your ankle, softly clinking when you moved, while your huge halo of curls, glossy lips, and stacks of rings made you look less like an interviewer and more like the main event.
And the biggest difference?
Your hair.
Styled in a way that looked inspired by anime characters more than Hollywood glam.
People kept glancing at you.
Some confused.
Some judgmental.
You didn’t care.
Michael noticed that immediately.
“What outlet is she with?” he asked casually.
His publicist looked over. “The one in the silver chains?”
“Yeah.”
“You want me to skip it?”
He kept watching you while another interviewer talked at him.
“Nah,” he said. “Actually… make sure we stop there.”
—
By the time he finally reached your section of the carpet, social media was already halfway losing its mind because clips of him staring in your direction were spreading online.
You didn’t know that yet.
You were fixing your cue cards when his team suddenly stepped in.
“Michael’s coming to you next.”
You blinked. “Wait, seriously?”
The assistant grinned. “Seriously.”
Before you could respond, there he was.
Closer than expected.
Tall.
Warm cologne.
Smile dangerous enough to make people forget basic sentences.
“Hey,” he said smoothly. “How you doin’?”
Professional.
Stay professional.
“I’m good,” you answered, lifting the mic. “You?”
“Better now.”
Your eyebrows lifted slightly.
Oh.
So this was the energy.
Behind the cameras, you heard somebody cough trying not to laugh.
The interview started normal enough.
Questions about the movie.
Filming.
Cast chemistry.
But Michael kept looking at you a little too long after every answer.
And you definitely noticed.
“So,” you said, glancing at your notes. “Fans online say this might be your most intense role yet.”
“Probably,” he admitted. “I had to lock in different for this one.”
“You strike me as somebody who gets obsessed with characters.”
“I do.”
“Like anime level obsessed?”
His face lit up immediately.
“Oh nah, you watch anime?”
You laughed. “Why you sound shocked?”
“Nobody on this carpet brought up anime all night.”
“That’s because they boring.”
He stared at you for a second before laughing hard enough to lean back.
The staff behind the cameras started laughing too.
“Oh, nah,” he grinned. “You funny.”
“You saying I’m wrong?”
“I’m saying you brave for saying it out loud.”
“What’s your favorite anime?” you asked.
“Depends. You judging my answer?”
“Absolutely.”
He pointed at you dramatically. “See? This why I gotta think carefully.”
The chemistry shifted right there.
Everybody around you felt it.
The teasing.
The eye contact.
The way he kept smiling before answering questions now.
At one point he looked down at your rings.
“You got a whole anime-villain aesthetic going on.”
“You like it though.”
His eyes flicked back up to yours.
“…Maybe I do.”
Oh, the internet was about to explode.
—
And explode it did.
By the time you got home that night, your phone looked insane.
TikTok edits.
Tweets.
Slow-motion clips.
People zooming in on the way Michael looked at you.
One tweet had over 300k likes:
Michael B. Jordan looked at her like she was the post-credit scene.
You laughed so hard you almost dropped your phone.
Your friend called immediately.
“GIRL.”
“I know!”
“No, you don’t understand. Black Twitter is writing wedding vows already.”
You opened another video.
This one zoomed in on Michael smiling after you called everybody on the carpet boring.
The comments were even worse.
HE WANT HER BAD.
That man folded over anime.
The chemistry??? Oh this dangerous.
Honestly?
You found the whole thing hilarious.
A little flattering too.
But mostly funny.
Until you saw Michael himself liked one of the clips.
Then another.
Then another.
“Oh,” you muttered to yourself.
Okay.
Maybe not entirely funny.
—
About three weeks later, you saw him again unexpectedly at a fashion event in New York City.
You were talking to another journalist when you heard somebody behind you say:
“So you been roasting me online?”
You turned around fast.
Michael stood there wearing all black again, hands in his pockets, smiling like he already knew your reaction.
You laughed immediately. “I did not roast you.”
“You reposted a tweet calling me animated.”
“Because your facial expressions were dramatic.”
“That’s hate.”
“That’s honesty.”
He shook his head, grinning.
This time there were no cameras directly in your face.
No interview format.
No rush.
So the conversation came easier.
Longer.
He asked about your job.
You asked about filming overseas.
You ended up talking about anime again for nearly twenty minutes beside the bar while people passing by kept recognizing both of you from the viral clips.
One girl literally walked past whispering:
“That’s them.”
You covered your face laughing.
“This is ridiculous.”
Michael looked way too pleased about it.
“You don’t like the internet shipping us?”
“I think the internet needs hobbies.”
“Mmm.” He tilted his head slightly. “I ain’t say they was wrong though.”
Your stomach flipped annoyingly.
He noticed.
And for the first time since meeting you, Michael looked slightly nervous himself.
Not actor smooth.
Not red carpet polished.
Just nervous.
He rubbed the back of his neck once before speaking.
“So…” he started carefully. “You maybe wanna hang out sometime when millions of people not watching?”
You raised an eyebrow on purpose. “Are you asking me on a date?”
“I’m trying to.”
“Trying?”
“You making me work for it.”
You pretended to think about it while he watched you closely.
Then you smiled.
“Okay,” you said. “But if you pick a bad restaurant, I’m tweeting about it.”
Michael laughed immediately, relief written all over his face.
“Aight,” he nodded. “That’s fair.”
-
Michael stared at you for another second after you agreed.
Not the cocky red-carpet stare everybody online kept making edits about.
Something softer.
Like he was surprised you actually said yes.
“Aight,” he said slowly, smiling to himself. “Cool. Cool.”
“You nervous?” you teased.
“Nah.”
“You rubbed the back of your neck.”
“That don’t mean nothing.”
“It means everything.”
He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “See? This why talking to you stressful.”
“And yet here you are.”
“And yet here I am.”
The silence after that wasn’t awkward either.
Just charged.
The kind where both people are suddenly very aware they’re standing too close.
Music from the event pulsed softly around you while guests floated past in designer outfits pretending not to stare.
Michael leaned slightly closer. “Lemme get your number before the internet somehow leaks it first.”
“That’s actually fair.”
You handed him your phone.
His fingers brushed yours for maybe half a second too long.
Intentional.
Definitely intentional.
You watched him type his contact in.
Michael 🖤
You looked at the name and snorted.
“Oh you got game.”
“I got confidence.”
“Barely.”
He placed a hand dramatically over his chest like you wounded him. “Damn.”
“You survived.”
“Not emotionally.”
—
The internet got worse after the second event.
Much worse.
Because this time there were photos.
Clear ones.
Pictures of you and Michael B. Jordan standing in the corner talking like nobody else existed.
One blurry clip caught him leaning close so he could hear you better over the music.
Another showed you laughing while touching his arm.
People lost their minds.
Again.
You were sitting on your couch in an oversized T-shirt scrolling through Twitter when your phone buzzed.
It was Michael
Michael 🖤:
So apparently we trending again.
You:
“Again” sounds tired. You enjoying this.
Michael 🖤:
Little bit.
Another text came immediately after.
Michael 🖤:
They saying I look at you like I discovered love.
You nearly choked laughing.
You:
The edits are INSANE.
Michael 🖤:
Send me your favorite one.
You:
Absolutely not.
Michael 🖤:
Coward.
You ended up sending him three anyway.
Which turned into both of you texting until almost two in the morning.
It was easy in a way you didn’t expect.
No forced flirting.
No weird celebrity ego.
Just conversation.
Anime.
Movies.
Music.
Horrible premiere food.
He sent voice notes sometimes, his deep voice rougher late at night.
You hated how much you liked hearing them.
At one point he sent:
Aight but be honest… you really thought I was staring at you first night?
You smirked at your phone before replying.
Michael. Half the internet noticed.
Three dots appeared instantly.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally:
Yeah… okay. Maybe I was.
Your stomach did an annoying little flip again.
—
Your actual first date happened quietly.
No paparazzi.
No red carpet.
Just a tucked-away Japanese restaurant in Los Angeles Michael swore nobody would bother you at.
He was already there when you arrived.
Black hoodie.
Gold chain.
Baseball cap low over his eyes.
Still unfairly attractive.
“You late,” he said the second you sat down.
“You got here twenty minutes early. That doesn’t count.”
“That’s called preparation.”
“That’s called anxious.”
“I’m leaving.”
“You invited me.”
“And I regret it.”
You laughed, settling into the booth.
God, this felt dangerously natural already.
The waitress came over, clearly recognizing him immediately but trying to stay professional.
Michael ordered first, then looked at you.
“You trust me to pick dessert?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“How bad your taste is.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You really came here to bully me.”
“You like it.”
His grin gave him away instantly.
The date stretched longer than either of you planned.
Dinner turned into walking through the city afterward because neither of you wanted to go home yet.
The night air was cool, streets glowing with neon and traffic lights while people occasionally recognized Michael in passing.
Most left him alone.
A few asked for pictures.
You noticed how patient he was every single time.
At one point while crossing the street, his hand brushed yours.
Then stayed there.
Not fully holding your hand yet.
Just touching.
Testing.
You looked down briefly before looking back at him.
Michael glanced at you carefully. “You cool with this?”
Your lips twitched.
“You asking permission?”
“Mhm.”
“That’s new for Hollywood men.”
“Nah,” he said quietly. “Just for stuff I care about.”
And there it was again.
That softness.
That sincerity he tried to hide under jokes and confidence.
You let your fingers slide fully between his.
His expression changed instantly.
Subtle.
But real.
Like something settled inside him.
“There you go smiling again,” you teased.
“I can’t help it.”
“You absolutely can.”
“Nah.” He looked over at you while still walking. “Think I’m cooked actually.”
You laughed so hard you had to look away.
And somewhere across the street, somebody definitely took a blurry picture of the two of you holding hands beneath the city lights.
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed the fic if you want a part two just let me know. PEACE & LOVE 🧡
- 🎀. synopsis : short stories that include two or more anime characters that seem very odd together; but in mirah’s eyes, fit together perfectly
- 🎀. warnings : fem reader. ( black and chubby to be exact.) penetration, anal, oral, mxm, most include bimbo reader! all shorts have two or more characters. 17+
1. Eren Yeager and Suguru Geto | in which .. you have a thing for toxic long haired rockstars.
2. Titan!Eren Yeager and Venom | in which .. a glimpse of how mirah’s two favorite monsters handle her
3. Simon Ghost Riley and Nanami Kento | in which .. two men who spoil you
4. Satoru Gojo and Sylus | in which .. two rivals have a common interest
5. Onyankopon and Ryoumen Sukuna | in which .. two plug boyfriends is better than one
6. Connie Springer and Roronoa Zoro | in which .. zoro and his wife loves the pool boy
“let go baby i thought you could handle it?” slapping your cheek choso bit his lips watching the ripple of your brown skin. your body shook, pussy leaking with gooey cream that stuck to your thighs. you clenched trying to hold everything the emo man had just givin you, but it was too much. you felt him tug your body back into position, your back arching naturally and your pussy pushing out more cum on que. your shaky hands gripped the hotel sheets, eyes closing as you felt him stretching your puffy pussy. choso was a grower.
a proud one at that.
he lived for how confident women were right before his cock began to grow. he could never hide the smirk, it was even better when they put him in their mouths and his cock slowly began to make them gag. you were no different, confidence in your walk, and so much so, you said you could ride him.
he got so turned on watching your pretty eyes get big and bigger- with his cock. “c-cho hold on babyyy” your voice quivered. now three rounds later, and five times cumming your pussy was sore. sore, open and wet.
“no matter how much i fuck this pretty pussy, it’s always gonna. be. tight.” choso knocked wind from your lungs. his dick shot out cream, white slimy cream that stuck to your pink walls. even then, his dick didn’t go down - it never would it seemed.
you ass clapped against him, his hands holding your love handles, then one leaving to slap your ass hard, making your skin slightly red. you tighted around him, your face going deep into the covers a scream coming for the depths of your throat. your stomach bubbled, hole clenching to try and not make too much of a mess- but it was choso and you were too full. it was not working.
as your hands gripped the covers harsher, nails digging into the seems creating a small tear, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and squirt came out of you like a dripping faucet. it felt like it would never end, a puddle now in the white sheets and a happy choso who still fucked your sloppy pussy until his dick finally went down.
What can I say, ladies? We love our Oscar winner, Michael Bakari Jordan. He's one of our OG leading men, who's been a constant star in most of our productions. Now, we know that our man is very busy, but he's never too busy to answer when our studios call for your pleasure. Take a seat and take a free complimentary towel because our Oscar winner is ready for the big screen. Price of Admission: Free
His filmography:
Cellophane (a trilogy)
Summary: Michael does an interview that leaves your relationship on rocky ground.
Part I. Part II. Part III.
Acts of Service
Summary: As the oldest sibling, you’ve always shouldered the responsibility of taking care of everyone else and then yourself. From this responsibility comes a level of independence that has managed to manifest in all areas of your life, including your new relationship with Michael. Now, Michael decides that this is his time to show you that with him, your needs are his top priority, and that includes breaking your little bubble of independence. (AKA. Mike wanna trick on you!)
Part I. Part II.
Your Biggest Fan
Summary: You’ve always been one of michael’s biggest fans. after years of pining for the older man, you decide that now is the time to finally make him yours. only one problem–well, many problems, you aren’t the only one seeking his attention. however, you’ve always liked a little competition, especially eliminating it. Part I.
Your Greatest Desire (Sequel to "Your Biggest Fan")
Summary: With the recent revelations of your manipulation and pregnancy reveal, your and Michael's relationship is tested to new levels. Plus, you may not be the only one with dark impulses. Part II.
Too Much
Summary: In which, a comment by a one of Michael’s close friends leads to your insecurities pooling to the surface, and you can’t help but start pulling back in your relationship. Worried about if you’re too much.
Theatre A.
Like a Tattoo (short film)
Summary: A happy little accident leads to your man getting a special tattoo dedicated to you. Theater 1A.
Golden Globes
Summary: You and Michael are exes, but a chance encounter at the Golden Globes leaves Michael jealous and desperate to win you back.
Theater 1B.
My Little Weirdo
Summary: The chronicles of Michael and his weird girlfriend, aka you.
Part I. Part II. Part III.
Claim Me
Summary: Michael is desperate to post about you on his social media, but you’re adamant that you don’t want to be posted. Now, Michael is spiraling and trying to figure out why you don’t want to be claimed by him. Theater 2A
He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not
Summary: You have a crush on your co-star, Michael, but he seems to have his eyes set on a certain other leading lady. Despite your best efforts, you decide to move on….but maybe Michael isn’t ready to for you to move on quite yet. Theater 2B
Challenger (starring tennis!reader)
Summary: You’re tennis’s new golden girl. A powerhouse that already has her name in rooms before you even touch the door. Confident. Arrogant. Talented. All the things that people hate for black women to be, but you’re consistently breaking barriers. Now, you have your eyes set on your celebrity crush, Michael B. Jordan. Michael isn’t used to being openly pursued by women, so it’s a welcome change when you’re the one shooting your shot at him. Besides, who doesn’t love a little challenge? Theater 2C
Enlighten Me (A Conversation)
Summary: You’re young. Younger than Michael. He assures you that the age gap isn’t a problem for your relationship. However, a certain chasm grows between you, and you begin to doubt that your lack of life experience is enough to sustain your relationship with him. Theater 3A
Please, I'm a Star
Summary: You’re gonna be famous, and you’re not letting anyone stand in your way. Theater 3B
Assimilation
Summary: After a mission goes wrong and your husband is declared legally dead, you’re surprised to find him standing at your doorstep eight months later in seemingly perfect health. You’re happy to have him back, but the man in your home isn’t the same man who left you months ago. Who is this stranger….and why isn’t he acting like the man that you love? Theater 3C
Can't Let You Go
Summary: You end your fling with Michael because you’re craving a real relationship…but Michael’s not ready to let you go. Theater 4A
What's Your Favorite Scary Movie?
Summary: You love horror movies. Michael does not. But as your boyfriend, he has to suck it up and deal with it. Theater 4B
His Black Swan
Summary: When a comment by another actor during Oscar’s season drop, the internet and Michael rally behind you to show love and appreciation for your craft. (Theater 4B2)
His Characters:
Checkmate (starring Elias "Stack" Moore & Elijah "Smoke" Moore)
Summary: You love Elias. Your Elias. When you catch him in the act of betraying you, you decide to move on. Only…Stack isn’t so ready to let you go, but someone else already has their sights set on you. Theater 4C
Knight Protects the Queen (sequel to "Checkmate")
Summary: In this next installation in the “Checkmate” universe, we learn the origins of how the reader and Smoke got together. In the present day, you, Smoke, and Stack all deal with the aftermath of Stack learning about you and his brother. Theater 5A
To Be Known is To Be Consumed
Summary: This is a love story. (Theater 5B)
His Requests:
Sunday Kind of Love
Daddy and Son Day
Drunk In Love
Baby Blues
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