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nerdyscouttribute · 16 days ago

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What You Want With Me…?

Summary: Annie takes control one smoldering Mississippi night, and Smoke inevitably learns what it feels like to be completely undone.

Pairing: Annie x Elijah "Smoke" Moore

Warnings: smutty smut, milking, edging, degradation, praise, dom!annie, sub!smoke, use of the n-word

Word count: 2.9k

The ceiling fan clicks impotently. The room feels sweltering, damp, and too intimate. Smoke is on edge, as he always is. Without even moving, Annie dances around him like she owns the air he breathes and the floor he paces. She isn't trying to dominate him necessarily; she's just seeking the truth of him. She's experienced the tingling bite of his submission in flashes and flickers. She’s had but a mere taste the last few times. Tonight, she wants it all.

Annie is casually leaning against the doorway of the small barn house she and Smoke have grown to frequent over the last month or so. She’s wearing a pale blue nightgown that subtly hugs all of her curves. Cocoa brown skin that’s softer than room-temperature butter glistening lightly from the relentless Mississippi summer sun.

She watches Smoke light one of the two cigarettes that she saw Stack roll for him earlier as she contemplates how to get Smoke to give in fully not only to her but also to what his body craves.

She finally speaks, “You gon’ let me touch you the way I know you need, or you gon’ keep frontin’ like you don’t flinch every time I get close?”

Smoke doesn’t look up, but she catches the tiny smirk on his face as he says, “You talk too damn much, Annie.”

Annie straightens up and takes a few steps towards him, slow and calm. “Mmhm. But you ain’t moved since I started. C’mon, Elijah. I ain’t tryna break you. I just wanna see you melt.”

Smoke finally lifts his head and glances up at her, stormy brown eyes sharp. “I don’t melt, woman.”

She grins as she brushes her fingers up his inner thigh. “Yeah, you do, Elijah. You just don’t want me to see it.”

She removes the cigarette from his mouth and puts it out. He turns away from her to exhale the last bits of smoke hanging on his breath.

He holds her by the waist as he looks up into her eyes again, this time with an intense gaze of determination that surprises her. He exhales deeply and nods once as he pushes his body into Annie, giving her permission to take the reins.

She takes her time removing his shirt and trousers. She gently pushes him back until he sits comfortably on the wooden chair. She uses his suspenders to tie both his muscled arms to the chair legs. There’s a brief moment of protest in his eyes, but he pushes it down. He sighs deeply again and relaxes his shoulders and completely surrenders to Annie, the woman he loves. God help him.

After stripping herself bare, she straddles him, but she doesn’t line his hardening cock against her wet heat. Not yet. She kisses his collarbone. She plants a kiss on the corner of his mouth. His jaw clenches and unclenches with each kiss. Then his full lips and his mustache tickle her top lip the way she likes it every time he deepens the kiss.

Annie breaks the kiss and whispers, “Every time we fuck, you fight it. You rush. Like you scared of what happens if you slow down.” His eyes drop, and she cups his face, eyes softening as he gazes back into hers. “I ain’t scared of it. So let me take you there, Elijah.”

He finally admits the truth, “I trust you.”

Her hands slid down his chest. Over his toned stomach. To his cock. She grips it loosely, and his breathing stutters.

Annie lifts off his lap and circles him slowly as she thinks on how to start first.

It smells like sawdust and summer heat in the barn. Moonlight seeps through the slats in the walls, catching the fine sheen of sweat already glistening across Smoke’s chest.

The ties ain’t too tight, but they’re intentional. Just enough tension to remind him that he ain’t goin’ nowhere unless she says so.

Annie stops behind him, her voice low and as warm as molasses as she says, “You ever notice how jumpy you get when you ain’t the one callin’ the shots?”

She drags her fingers up his bare arms, tantalizingly slow. He shivers. He doesn’t answer her. His mind and body are tussling for control and his body is in the lead.

She leans down, mouth against his ear, “You trust me to pull your trigger, Elijah? Hmm?” She places a hot kiss below his ear, a spot that always makes his brain short-circuit. “Or you still convinced all I wanna do is tame you?”

With gritted teeth and tensing thighs, Smoke says, “I told you before, woman, I ain’t nobody’s pet.”

Smoke feels her smirk against his skin and bites back a groan. Annie takes his ear between her teeth, nibbling gently. “And yet here you are, tied up with your own damn clothes. Eager to watch me peel you open like one of my sweet potatoes.”

He grunts, cock twitching twice against his thigh, but he doesn’t say another word.

Annie slides in front of him now, crouching between his knees. She rests her chin against his knee and looks at his raging hardness, then up into his eyes, her gaze soft yet commanding. “I don’t want your obedience, Elijah. I want your surrender. That part of you you only show when you think I’m not payin’ attention.”

His voice is tight, eyes burning with a ferocity so intense only she could handle. “You don’t know what you askin’ for, Annie.”

She nods once and whispers, “Yes, I do.”

She wraps her hand around the base of his cock. It’s warm and heavy. Eager. She doesn’t rush. She doesn’t squeeze or stroke. She just holds him there, firm. “Look at that… already halfway there. You ain’t even fightin’ it no more.”

The wood creaks once under his weight as he shifts in the chair. He hates not having access to his hands but doesn’t comment on it. Annie can already tell from one look. He shifts again, extending one of his legs. Not to pull away from her but to ground himself. She watches his abs tighten and his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he fights back a moan.

His cock has an impressive rigidity…it is harder than it’s ever been. She files that away in her mind for later. He’s heavy, throbbing, and leaking already, which is where the real fun begins.

And he hates how fast it happened.

That is what she loves the most. He talks like he is in charge, but his body has been telling on him since she first touched him.

She spits in her hand and gets a grip on him, stroking loosely just enough to make him twitch. Not enough to give him any kind of relief.

“Aww, what’s the matter, Elijah? Already breathin’ like you close, and I ain’t even really started.”

Smoke glares at her, “Shut the hell up, woman.”

Annie smirks, her voice laced with sweet cruelty, “Ohhh, there he go. Talkin’ tough while I got your dick in my hand.” She leans forward and kisses the swollen tip. “You always this mouthy when you’re tied up and needy?”

He flinches at the kiss, half from sensitivity, half from embarrassment. She licks a slow stripe up the underside of him, and his thighs tighten instinctively.

Smoke grunts, struggling to keep his composure, “You keep runnin’ that mouth, and I swear—”

Annie cuts him off with a snicker, “—You gon’ what? Hmm? Buck against the restraints I put on you?” Her eyes soften just a tad as she sees the raw desire burning in his eyes. “Baby, you talk like you got power in this moment. But you’re already spillin’ in my hand.”

She pumps him slowly. Cruel. Just the kind of pace that makes a man ache instead of climax.

He’s breathing harder now, trying to stay still, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing him unravel.

Annie kisses the inside of his thigh and asks, “You know what I love?” She pumps him a little faster. “Watching you fight it. Watchin’ your jaw clench, your chest rise, your pretty little dick beggin’ for mercy while you pretend you don’t love this shit.”

He hisses through his teeth. He’s close. So close. But he won’t say it. Won’t warn her.

Annie coos, “Go on, Elijah. Cum for me. I know it’s right there. Be a good boy and gimme that first one.”

Smoke groans again, louder this time, breaths coming in shorter, “Fuck you—”

Annie giggles, “You wish. Now hush and cum.”

She twists her wrist just right, leans in, and whispers, “My good fuckin’ boy,” right as his whole body seizes.

Smoke groans, deep, guttural, and involuntary. His thighs jerk, toes curling in his boots as he spills hot and messy across her hand and thigh.

He’s panting. Shaking. Spewing all kinds of filthy curses. That doesn’t stop Annie because she’s already reaching for him again.

Smoke half-drunk off release, body on fire with ecstasy, slurs out, “Annie… wait, wait, I—fuuckk, I need a minute.”

Annie hums while stroking him slowly again, already coaxing him back to full hardness. “No, baby. You needed a minute. That was one.” She leans in slowly to kiss him, pink tongue pushing past his full lips with filthy precision, “Now I wanna see what that mouthy attitude sounds like when you cum for the second time.”

A deep, low whine escapes his throat. He shocks himself, completely unaware he could even make a noise so desperate. She laughs softly, presses her forehead to his, and whispers, “You so fuckin’ pretty when you give up the fight, Elijah. My sweet, stubborn mess.”

He’s still breathing heavily. His thighs are shaking, his wrists tug uselessly at the suspenders holding him in place. But she hasn’t stopped. Won’t stop. One hand still pumps him slick now, easier, crueler. His cock is sensitive, reddening at the tip, twitching like it’s confused between pain and pleasure.

Smoke grunts and gasps, “Annie… f-fuck… I said I need a goddamn second—”

Annie giggles mockingly, “Aww, and I said I ain’t done with you.” She leans in to kiss his nose. “You gave me one. I want more. You said you could handle me, didn’t you? What happened to all that bark, huh?”

He jerks in the chair when she thumbs the crown, swiping the underside with the perfect amount of pressure. His cock is sensitive as hell now. His hips lift like his body’s betraying him.

Annie continues, “Still tryna pretend like you ain’t mine? Even when you moanin’ through clenched teeth and squirmin’ like this?”

Smoke chokes out a moan, “You ain’t… I ain’t…”

Annie says sharply, her voice laced with lust, “Say it.” She pumps him with both hands now, drastically slow and downright mean. “Say who you belong to right now, Elijah.”

He shakes his head, his face scrunching like he’s trying not to cry. She kisses him again even more possessively than the last time and still doesn’t stop stroking.

A broken, shaky moan slips out of his throat. “Shit…Annie, please.”

Annie freezes mid stroke, but only for a few seconds. “Ohhh?” She leans back and tilts her head cockily, “Did you just beg? Elijah Smoke Moore…said please?”

He jerks again, head dropping back against the chair, throat exposed, lips parted in something that’s not a scream but damn sure wants to be.

Annie strokes him even faster now and whispers, “That’s what I wanted. That’s what you been fightin’ this whole time. You know how beautiful you are like this? All messy and needy and mine?”

Smoke lets out a desperate sound, barely coherent as he begs, “A-Annie… I’m close—again, I—fuuuckk, I can’t, it’s too much, I—”

Annie leans in again, mouth dropping by his ear, “Yes, you can. You gon’ give it to me. Gonna let go, baby. You hold so much shit in, you forget how to fall apart.”

She speeds up, her hand steady even as his body jerks and trembles. He can’t even form words. Too blissed out.

Annie moans, drunk on lust and love and pure domination, “Let me ruin you, Elijah. Come on. Be good for me.”

That’s it. That’s the word that undoes him.

He lets out a strained, broken sound. His back arches, thighs trembling uncontrollably as he comes again. It’s messier this time. Louder. He groans her name like a confession, like one of her bayou curses and one of his uncle’s Sunday prayers all at once.

She slows her hand but doesn’t completely stop.

Not yet.

His chest is heaving. Sweat drips down his temple. He’s slumped in the chair, wrecked, blinking slowly like he just woke up from a dream he didn’t want to leave.

Annie climbs into his lap, careful not to overstimulate him again…yet.

She cradles his face and kisses him gently this time. Tender. Safe.

Annie shushes him, “There he is. The real you. The one I’ve been waitin’ on.”

Smoke slowly comes to, unable to look her in the eye just yet, but asks anyway, “You… you gon’ tell Stack?”

Annie chuckles softly as she rests her forehead against his. “What? That I tied your proud ass up and made you say please twice? Hell no. That’s our secret.” Then she whispers, “Unless you act up. Then I might have to remind you who really runnin’ shit ‘round here.”

Smoke's ears and cheeks warm immediately. He shakes his head fondly at her, “You evil.”

Annie kisses him again, smiling brightly. “No, baby. I’m just honest. And tonight? So were you.”

His head lolls back against the chair, body limp, thighs still twitching from the second orgasm. He’s covered in sweat, hair sticking to the back of his neck, lips parted like he’s trying to say something but forgot how words work.

And Annie? Annie’s glowing. THRIVING. Annie is captivated by his sounds, brimming with power, yet her satisfaction remains unfulfilled.

Annie drags her nails down his chest and lines him up, “One more, Elijah. That’s all I want. One more. You got it in you, I know you do.”

Smoke lets out a shaky breath, eyes heavy. “Annie, baby, I—” He groans deeply when he feels her wet heat sliding over him. “Fuck. You tryna kill a nigga or what?”

Annie moans loudly as she sinks down onto him, slow and deep. “No, baby. I’m tryna feel you. Just like this. All of you.”

He gasps when he’s fully buried in her soaked heat, tight walls squeezing the life out of him. The overstimulation hits like a lightning strike, but the warmth of her, the rhythm of her hips? Her warmth and the rhythm of her hips simultaneously soothe and wreck him.

She’s so wet, so soft around him, and still so fucking intentional. She moves in slow rolls, grinding deep instead of bouncing, letting him feel everything.

Annie braces her hands on his broad shoulders, panting softly, “Let it happen. Don’t fight me this time.” She moans loudly as she swirls her hips, “Let it be good, Elijah. For both of us.”

He tries. God, he tries. He whimpers against her lips, too far gone to be ashamed of the desperate noises he makes now because her rhythm is too much and too perfect.

She kisses him like he’s long-lost treasure and only she can locate it without a map.

Her own orgasm builds slowly and low in her belly. It burns. Tightens. She can feel him throbbing inside her, close again even though he swore he couldn’t go another round.

He’s trembling. Arms yanking at the restraints. His breath is stuttering against her mouth. But he won’t look away. His voice barely manages to crack out a warning, “Annie…shit woman. I’m—I’m gonna—”

Annie clenches around him tighter, panting into his mouth, “Me too. Cum with me, baby.”

Their sweat-glistening foreheads press together as they both tip over the edge—his third, her first. Her nails dig into his shoulders as she shudders around him, crying out his name, hips still moving through it. He lets out the softest, most broken sound of the night, almost a sob, and spills inside her, twitching and gasping, completely wrecked and utterly fucked.

She stays on him for a moment, chests pressed together, heartbeats wild and tangled.

He’s limp in the chair. Breathless. Shaky. His arms are still tied, and his wrists are tugging slightly against the suspenders.

Annie whispers softly, brushing sweat off his face, “You did so good for me, Elijah. I got you now. I got you always.”

She reaches behind the chair, slowly unhooking the suspenders from around his wrists. Red marks bloom across his skin. The marks are faint but tender. She lifts each wrist to her lips and kisses the spots gently, reverently.

Annie asks him, “You okay?”

Smoke is too out of it to form words, so he just nods. Barely. His massive arms wrap around her waist like it’s all he can manage. He buries his face in her neck, breathing her in like fresh air after drowning.

She shifts just enough to pull a tattered blanket from the nearby haystack and wraps it around both of them while they sit in the chair, tangled, sweat-slick, and completely undone.

Annie rocks him gently while whispering into his ear, “You can let go with me. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to now. He just holds her tighter against his spent body.

And outside the barn, the crickets chirp. The night stretches on, reticent and revered.

ach. To

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nerdyscouttribute · 16 days ago

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"Imagine Being Loved by Me" Pt 5

Smoke x Annie x OC Sinners Fic

Modern AU

As promised, it didn't feel right for both pt 4 and 5 to live together ( you'll see what I mean) also I struggled so much with the ending of this whew lord.

Warning: Yes yes we have them, SMUT (yum), wlw fingering, pussy eating (m/f), threesome, folks are drinking and smoking and fucking in this one yall ion what to tell yuh.

Word count: 2838

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Enjoy!

Day 5 of 16

Cassidy braced both hands on the sink in front of her and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were slightly blurry and her lips were swollen and wet. She took a deep breath in and let it out slow.

She regretted that last spliff. Cross faded, her whole body was warm and hot she felt the beast that lived in her belly wake, shaking itself. She shook her head and turned on the taps to wash her hands.

Humming the black happy birthday song in her head she checked her nails before rinsing her hands clean.

She turned wrist hanging loosely in front of her looking for towels to dry them, a knock sounded.

“Just a minute” she called back. The knock came again.

She sighed, grabbed a handful of napkins and opened the door ready to shuffle out into the hallway.

Annie was on the other side. They both froze looking at each other.

Looking left and then right Annie hustled Cassidy back into the bathroom and shut the door.

It was quiet, the music just barely floating up here. This was Smoke and Stack’s office bathroom, Annie had showed it to her earlier in the week saying that Cassidy should feel free to use it if the line downstairs was too long. Tonight Cassidy had some in here to hide for a moment. Cassidy dried her hands and tossed her napkins away in the trash, she stuck her hands in her back pockets and leaned against the wall. It was quiet.

Annie shuffled on her feet and then asked “You alright?”

Cassidy’s eyes were lazy, weed and alcohol in her system had her fighting her impulse control. She barely made it off the dancefloor without causing a scene.

Annie had been pressed up tight against her back to Cassidy's chest as she worked her ass into a mean grind. It was sweltering, bodies pressing in on all side but all Cassidy could feel the was heat of having her so close.

When Annie looked back over her shoulder at Cassidy; bottom lip caught in her teeth, Cassidy had fled.

Now here they were. “Yeah I'm good, I just probably shouldn't have smoked so much tonight”

Annie huffed a laugh, “Yeah I can't keep up with them. You was out there for a while too!”

Smoke, Stack, Corey and his wife Therese had been rolling up in a little private section of the back patio of Club Juke. Cassidy, Annie and Pearline had come out to join them. Pearline and Annie had tapped out quite early feeling lightly buzzed and going back inside to hit the dancefloor with Grace and Bo, Cassidy had stayed. Seven jays passed around later, she was higher than a motherfucker and feeling too good.

Cassidy ran a hand roughly down her face, and nodded, “Yeah, I would be good but I've also been drinking too much”

“Mmm you feeling sick? Smoke can call you a ride back if you not feeling well” Annie stepped closer, Cassidy's back was still pressed against the wall watching her through slitted eyes.

She shook her head feeling like she was moving through honey. Slow and sweet. “No, not sick.”

“Oh. Okay, so you just not feelin me?”

“Huh?”

“You ran away like the devil was chasing you. Listen if I made you uncomfortable I apologize I thought-” She stopped, biting down on her lip again looking confused.

“You thought?” Cassidy felt her heart speed up despite the weed making everything slow.

“I don't know, but I thought you also felt it.”

“Annie..”

“Nobody gets me twisted up like this, you know. I'm usually the level headed one.” Annie laughed ruefully at the ground.

“I'm just gon say it then.” She took a deep breath and looked Cassidy in the eyes.

“I like you Cassie. You real sweet and you funny as hell. You so passionate and you get all geeky about plants like I do.”

She ran a hand down her own arm, “You are one of the most gorgeous women I've ever seen, and you mean sometimes and I like dat. I like you and I guess I thought we were connecting but maybe I was wrong.”

There wasn't enough time in the world to process everything. The only thing Cassidy could focus on was her face.

“You not”

“What?”

“You not wrong.”

In four sure steps Cassidy had crossed the room and taken Annie's face into her hands.

“I like you too, I want you” she whispered and claimed her lips.

Annie's breath rushed out of her on a reedy moan, she pressed up firmly into the kiss and Cassidy grunted in response. Pulling back they shared a breath.

“Fuck”

“Mmhm cmere”

They stumbled back away from the door till the bumped into the counter. Cassidy turned around and pressed Annie against the sink.

Her hands had a mind of their own, or they were finally fulfilling all the thoughts that had been running through Cassidy's thoughts since she saw Annie across the room at Club Juke.

She wrapped her arms around Annie's waist and lifted her onto the counter, sliding between her legs like it was home. Senses overloaded and still craving more Cassidy poured all of herself into the kiss. She wanted Annie to know without words that she wanted her just as bad.

Annie had a hand wrapped in the locs at the back of Cassidy’s head holding her tightly to her. She grinded against Cassidy looking to friction, pulling her closer and closer as she devoured her mouth.

Smoke was high as shit.

He blamed Corey. There was literally no need to roll up that much let alone smoke it all but the Club was closed tomorrow so it wasn't like he had anywhere to be. Him and Annie would probably pull up to Pearline’s house and find some excuse to see Cassie again. She was outright avoiding being alone with Smoke after game night but he saw her and Annie dancing earlier so at least that was going well.

He had to find Annie. Smoking with Cassie had riled him right up, in the dim light of the outdoor patio he could get away with starin at her mouth and smiling at her jokes under the haze of all the weed smoke. She sat beside him in the rotation and he could swear he could taste her mouth on the jay each time she passed it. When their fingers brushed it made his high that much better.

He had to find Annie. Him and his woman have been wearing each right out since Cassidy got to town. Round after round after round and then again in the morning before they saw her to take the edge off.

Smoke looked around the dancefloor hoping to catch sight of Annie or even Cassidy but he didn't. Grace shimmied past him and he caught her wrist “You seen Annie?”

“She went upstairs, Cassie disappeared Annie said she might not be feeling well”

He nodded his thanks and made his way up to the second floor.

Shit he gone have to kill Corey if Cassie is up here all fucked up and sick. And Stack’s ass too. She probably cross faded as shit.

He made his way towards his and Stack’s office, it was empty. He turned to leave when his eyes caught on the bathroom door. He could hear noise from outside the door. Smoke paused.

Then he tried the knob, it was unlocked.

He opened the door and took in the sight before him.

Cassie had Annie up on the sink, one thick thigh in the crook of her elbow, mouth licking and bruising her neck as Annie moaned, gasping for breath like she was dying. Annie was clutching Cassie back and shoulders real tight, her other leg locked around Cassie’s waist not letting her go anywhere. Cassie’s hand was between his wife’s thighs, forearm flexing as she did something sinful with her fingers. Annie head snapped back and she groaned out a tortured “Fuck. Please please please-”

Cassie was muttering something where she had her lips pressed to Annie’s ear out of Smoke’s sight. She moved her arm again, fingers probably reaching real deep and Annie sobbed in ecstasy , eyes fluttering open she saw Smoke standing in the doorway.

Their eyes locked and Smoke got to watch one of his greatest pleasures in life, his wife climaxing.

Cassie arm sped up viciously between Annie's thighs still talking lowly in her arm, as she worked her over. Annie’s hand gripped her shoulder, pushing back as she worked her hips in time with Cassie’s fingers. Smoke could hear the slick wet sounds of her fingers under Annie’s desperate moans. She was soaked. When his wife finally broke, she came apart beautifully in Cassie’s arms.

Cassie pulled back and watched Annie’s face as she came down, she noticed her eyes looking over Cassie’s shoulder and turned her head. She caught sight of Smoke in the doorway and jolted. Her awkward jerking movement made Annie yelp, and distantly Smoke realized Cassie’s fingers were still inside of her.

“Shit. Uh Smoke listen-” Cassie pulled away from Annie and turned so she was between the two of them. Annie still sprawled on the counter, partially hidden behind Cassie's body.

Once Cassie's eyes were on him Smoke realized he was hard enough to bust through his pants. Like he was in a trance he stepped into the room and locked the door behind him, both Annie and Cassie staring at him.

Cassie was still, body tense. Smoke closed the distance between them. Cassie straightened up, moving slightly so she was in his line of sight. Smoke’s heated eyes ran over her form hungrily. He looked at Annie over Cassie shoulder, her eyes were glazed and she looked fucked out. His jaw clenched. He looked down at Cassie's hand still glistening from his wife's pussy. Without a second thought he reached down and took it in his own. Cassie flinched, and went to pull her hand from him but before she could Smoke pulled two of her drenched fingers into his mouth and sucked.

Cassie’s jaw dropped.

She watched as Smoke slurped Annie's wetness off her fingers, his tongue chasing it as he pulled them out. His eyes slitted open and he pulled away, looking down at her hand he sucked her third finger into his mouth and groaned.

When he released her hand from his lips with a wet slurp, he held her wrist, looked over at Annie who was breathing heavily and dragged her into a deep wet kiss with Cassie still pressed between them. A trio of moans bounced off the walls. Smokes body pressed into Cassie, his hard throbbing dick right up against her. Her arousal had been forgotten in her fear at Smoke walking in on them. It came roaring back as Smoke and Annie kissed wetly inches from her face.

Annie gripped the back of his neck and pulled away from him. Smoke grunted, pressing even closer forcing Cassie back into Annie's embrace.

He pulled away and took a look at the two of them. Glazed eyes, swollen kiss bitten lips, temptation in human form. He was so sick of holding back.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Cassie's, breathing heavily.

“Shit, oh fuck oh my God” she panted.

Smoke hummed in response, eyes locked on her mouth. He wanted her so badly but he waited. Waited for her to make the move. Annie had recovered, her hands joining the party rubbing down Cassie's chest, cradling and squeezing her breasts as she sucked on her neck.

Smoke teased himself but grinding his length against Cassie's hip, just a little to take the edge off. Her eyes fluttered at the contact before snapping open and locking with his. He held his breath. She looked back at his lips, open and still breathing heavy.

“Fuck it” she said, as she claimed them for herself.

Smoke felt his entire body catch heat. He felt hot enough to burn down the entire juke joint from the touch of her lips to his. The kiss was deep and wet from the jump, Cassie was kissing him like she was mad she waited this long and Smoke didn't blame her. If he knew she wanted him he would have snatched Stack out from underneath her last night.

She broke the kiss and he groaned, chasing her lips. Annie moaned and caught him by the jaw licking into his mouth to steal the taste of Cassie. She could have it, he would just have to get more and more for her to sample.

Smoke gripped Cassie by the hips, sliding his hands down he squeezed her ass like he had been longing to. She squeaked a bit and he pulled away to look at her. Her eyes were blown so dark, cloudy from the weed but hot as coal.

He kissed her bottom lip, licking heatedly into her mouth. He was starving. Annie knew exactly how he got after he was smoking, time for Cassie to find out.

“I wanna touch you, can I?”

Cassie nodded, looking a bit like she had been hit over the head. Annie was still sucking fiercely on her neck, her hand fully snaked under Cassie's shirt and bra it seemed. Pinching and squeezed and causing Cassie to arch in her arms and pant open mouthed.

Smoke took a small step back to take the full picture they made. His mouth watered and it reminded him of what he really wanted.

He dropped to his knees.

Cassie, yelped and reached for his shoulder, her knees giving a bit with him no longer pressing her against the counter between Annie’s legs. He braced her weight and reached to undo her shorts.

He pulled them down along with her boyshorts. The scent of her hit him, wet and hungry.

“Pretty” he murmured and he buried his face in her pussy.

“Shit, fuck”

“Is it good, baby?” Annie said, sucking her ear lobe into her mouth.

“Don't you know it is? He don't eat you like this Ann? Like he’s gonna die without it?” Cassie replies, her voice low.

Annie moaned, grazing her teeth along Cassie's neck before leaving yet another bruise. "Oh he do."

Fuck, Smoke thought. He could die right here and right now. He slackened his jaw and locked it real tight and good on her, he wanted everything. Every pulse, every flutter, every drop she had to give him.

He used his tongue to learn the shape of her, when her fingers dug deeply into his shoulder, or ran over the back of his head. He pulled his mouth away with a gasp, reached up to sink two fingers into her.

She tensed, not in a good way. He stilled his wrist and sealed his mouth over her clit in apology, as he looked up at her.

“Nghh not yet, not inside yet baby” she babbled. He hummed and gently pulled his fingers out. Her hips began to rock against his face and Smoke stayed his course, letting her fuck herself closer to the edge. Annie looked down the length of Cassie’s body and locked eyes with Smoke, his head rocking back and forth with each wave of Cassie’s hips, they both moaned in unison.

Cassie turned her head and caught Annie’s lips in a hard, wet kiss. Her hips sped up and she broke the kiss and whispered breathlessly, “Inside inside now, put them inside me”

Smoke mouth parted from her with gush, he felt her urgency and sunk two of his thick fingers deep inside her. She was molten and gripping him. He groaned and ran the wide flat of his tongue up her pussy lapping at her as he worked his wrist.

“So good, so fucking good baby just like that”

She grips him tightly now both inside, and her hand on the back of his head. She guides his mouth onto her clit and murmurs, “get me there cmon” Smoke moans, sucking steadily on it wanting her to cum so badly.

He speeds up his fingers and she protests “Not like that baby” He slows them back down increasing the pressure of his mouth instead, and feels her orgasm building like a rumbling storm. He opens his eyes to watch as her brows meet in the middle her expression goes slack and then tense all over. Her eyes closed her mouth dropped open. He locks his jaw as Cassie starts bucking from her shoulders down, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her. He can hear Annie moaning, and she grabs Cassie’s face and pulls her into a kiss as she comes down.

Smoke slows his tongue, slurping softly to catch more of her. His fingers glide out and he sits back on his knees still between her legs.

Cassie’s breath is shuddering out of her, he gazes up at her locked up in Annie’s arms and feels so awed. So lucky.

He rises, presses his body back into their embrace. He slides his dripping fingers into Annie’s waiting mouth. Cassie groans watching, she looks at him as his wife sucks the taste of her off his fingers. She

Looking at her face he says “Thank you.”

Hehe THNX FOR READING <3

63 notes · View notes

nerdyscouttribute · 16 days ago

Text

MY HEART BELONGS TO U

pairing: michael b jordan x wunmi mosaku

cw: sexual content

wc: too damn long

summary: michael has had a crush on her since the moment she did her audition. their chemistry undeniable. the hours they spent talking enhanced their connection between their characters, and it pulled their real selves closer. and now with the movie finally out to the world, maybe it’s time for them to be honest about what they want from each other.

notes: i had to throw my hat in the ring for this. I have a feeling that michael truly had a crush on wunmi so i wanted to capitalize on the ‘what if’ possibility. also i’ve been on a big jodeci kick lately so they inspired this one and the potential next one shot with them. enjoy this long ass one shot that had ZERO reason to be this long and the crazy part is it was wayyyyy longer, but i edited it down to this.

Ojai, California March 7th, 2025

The sun had just started to sink behind the hills, casting everything in Ojai in a soft, pink gold. The air smelled like oranges and dry grass, and the faint hum of summer bugs carried on the breeze.

They’d gotten away for a long weekend, just the two of them. They’d been staying at a private house tucked into a grove of olive trees.

Wunmi was out back, sitting on a woven blanket with a glass of wine in hand. She wore a soft, floaty sundress that was floral, low-cut, and delicate in a way that made Michael lose his damn focus every time he looked at her. Her hair was up, pieces falling loose from the sides, catching the light like honey.

Her bare legs were stretched out across the grass, and her hair was pulled into a loose updo, the kind that made her look both royal and impossibly soft at the same time.

He’d watched her like this all weekend, from across the kitchen while she danced barefoot to 90s R&B, from the tub where she made him promise not to check his phone, from the quiet edge of the hammock they never actually used. Every second, he felt the same thing building in his chest: “I need to do this now”.

Michael stepped out from the kitchen barefoot, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. He’d been quiet all day. His quiet was thoughtful, but not heavy. He was just in his head.

Wunmi noticed, of course. She always did. She had busied herself with reading, or pretending to read, so he wouldn’t notice the way she would look at him every once in a while.

“You alright?” she asked, eyes not leaving the book. Her accent sounded like pure heaven to Michael’s ears.

“Come sit up,” he said gently, settling beside her on the blanket. “I wanna talk to you.”

Her brow lifted slightly, but she marked her page and sat up, tucking one leg beneath her as he poured her more wine. Her dress slipped a little as she shifted.

He turned to her fully, one leg bent, his knee brushing hers. “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time. How to do it and when. I had all these ideas, but none of it felt like us.”

She tilted her head, watching him closely now. “You’re scaring me a little.”

His laugh was soft, nervous. “Don’t be scared. Just don’t say anything yet. Let me talk.”

She nodded slowly, brows drawing together. Her fingers tightened slightly around his.

“I’ve loved you since we sat in that trailer for four hours talking about nothing and everything. Way before I even kissed you,” he said, voice steady now. “You make me feel understood in a way no one else ever has. Like I don’t have to be anything but me.”

Her smile softened, and she took his hand again, grounding him.

“And I know people don’t see us,” he continued. “Not really. Not the way we see each other. But I don’t care. I don’t need anyone else to get it. I just need you. You already know what you are to me. You’ve known. You saw me when I didn’t have to explain myself.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet ring box.

Wunmi blinked. Her breath caught a little, but she didn’t speak.

“I want to be that safe place for you,” he said. “The way you’ve been for me. Will you marry me?”

Wunmi didn’t cry right away. She didn’t gasp or cover her face or any of the things women were supposed to do when the man they loved knelt in front of them.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I will.”

He didn’t even realize he’d exhaled until her fingers reached up to cradle the back of his neck and pull him into her. The kiss wasn’t rushed. It was full and slow and grounding like they were touching something sacred.

The silence after settled warmly between them. She leaned into him, head against his chest, and they stayed like that until the sun slipped low behind the trees. Then she looked up at him again, the sky casting shadows across her collarbones, her dress falling just right.

“I love you,” she said, barely above a whisper.

He cupped her face in both hands and kissed her again, slower this time, deeper. When he laid her back against the blanket, she didn’t resist. The air was thick with the kind of stillness that came when the world dropped away, and nothing existed except the two of them and the hush of twilight.

His hand moved down her thigh, parting the fabric of her dress carefully, like every inch of her was something he was discovering for the first time. She reached up, dragging her fingers across his chest, over the gold chain resting against his skin.

She smiled, breath hitching as he kissed her collarbone. “You wore the chain,” she teased softly.

“Yeah,” he murmured against her skin. “Had to remind myself who I am.”

“And who’s that?”

“The man who belongs to you.”

They made love under the olive tree, slow and unhurried, surrounded by the scent of grass and fading sunlight. Every touch was familiar. Every moan is quiet, private, and intentional.

Afterward, Wunmi laid stretched across his chest, fingertips tracing his skin, the ring still catching bits of moonlight. She didn’t speak, and neither did he.

Mexico City, Mexico March 28th, 2025

The hotel was a sleek, luxury tower tucked into the heart of the city with minimalist decor, floor-to-ceiling windows, and an absurdly polite front desk staff. After the whirlwind of landing, being ushered through press check-ins, and waving off well-meaning handlers, they were finally in the suite.

It was late, and they were both exhausted from the flight but it didn’t matter. Michael hadn’t been able to stop looking at her since they walked through the door.

She was already curled up under the covers, bonnet on, lights off. Bare legs tangled in sheets, phone abandoned beside her pillow. Her travel outfit was draped over the armchair across the room.

Michael had taken his time in the bathroom, letting the water run cold before finally killing the lights and climbing into bed beside her. Shirtless, chain still around his neck, skin still warm from the steam. Wunmi shifted when he joined her but didn’t open her eyes.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just scooted closer, arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her into him until her back was flush against his chest. She hummed, sleepy.

“Mm. Babe, you’re warm,” she murmured.

“Been thinking about you all day,” he said, voice low, already kissing behind her ear.

She smiled sleepily, but kept her eyes shut. “Michael…”

“You said yes,” he said again, more like a breath than a sentence. “And now I can’t stop wanting you.”

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then her neck, then lower inch by inch, slowly trying to turn her toward him. His hand moved up her thigh under the sheets, warm and deliberate.

“Come on,” he whispered against her collarbone. “Let me make you feel good.”

She finally opened her eyes, groaning just a little as he kissed across her jaw.

“Michael,” she warned, voice drowsy but firm.

“I’m not trying to bother you.” He kissed her again, and she laughed against his mouth. “Just saying. You look so damn good.”

He was halfway on top of her now, chest heavy against hers, mouth trailing lower, one hand cupping her thigh with intention. She let it go for a second, not because she was changing her mind, but because it was hard not to melt when he was like this, needy and slow and loving.

But eventually she had to put her hand on his chest, gently pushing him back.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m on my period.”

He froze just slightly, face still close to hers, breathing steady. Michael nodded. “I know. I just missed touching you. That’s all.”

“I’m still right here,” she murmured, turning over to face him.

She kissed him once, slow and tender. Let her thumb brush the curve of his jaw.

“You’ve got me,” she added. “You don’t need my body to feel that.”

Michael stared at her, the hunger still in his eyes, but now layered with something deeper.

He pulled her close again, tucked her into his chest, and let out a low sigh against her hair. “I know.”

He nudged her gently until they were both leaning back onto the bed, his body half on top of hers, their legs tangled. One hand slid up her side, under her t-shirt, but stopped before anything more. His mouth met hers, a little desperation behind it. The kind of kiss that said I’d go further if you let me, but this is enough, too.

She moaned softly into his mouth, threading her fingers through his curls, holding him close but steady. When they finally pulled apart, her lips were swollen, her eyes glazed.

Michael rested his forehead against hers. “I wasn’t trying to start something.”

She smirked. “You’re always trying to start something.”

He grinned. “Only when I’m around you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, eyes warm, voice soft. “Give me a few days.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Take all the time you need.”

The hotel suite was already humming with energy by 8:00 a.m. The glam team moved around Wunmi like a dance. Brushes tapped compacts, soft jazz played in the background, and the smell of hairspray mixed with fresh coffee filled the air.

Wunmi sat in front of the vanity, wrapped in a black silk robe that skimmed her thighs, her legs crossed beneath her, head tilted slightly as her stylist added the final touches to her hair.

Downstairs, in a quiet corner of the hotel café, Michael was sitting across from Ryan Coogler, halfway through an omelet and a casual conversation about life.

“I still can’t believe she said yes,” Michael said, shaking his head. “Like, it all just hit me. Last night I was just watching her sleep, and I kept thinking, damn, this is it. I found her.”

Ryan smirked, sipping his coffee. “You sound soft.”

Michael grinned. “I am soft.”

“Good. Stay that way. The world’ll try to harden you up again, don’t let it.”

By the time Michael returned to their suite, he had two to-go bags in hand. The glam team was still there, Wunmi’s soft laughter spilling from the bedroom.

“Got your favorite,” he said softly, walking up behind her.

Wunmi met his eyes in the mirror and smiled. “Thank you, baby.”

He handed her the bag and leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek, then one on her lips.

“You look beautiful,” he said, eyes roaming briefly over her reflection.

She raised a brow playfully. “Go sit down.”

Michael grinned and backed off, walking toward the oversized chair in the corner of the room. He dropped into it, pulling out his phone while she picked through the bag, sipping her juice and nibbling on a small pastry between final touch-ups.

Ten minutes later, the glam team packed up, offered a round of compliments, and filed out with cheerful goodbyes. The door clicked shut, and silence settled.

Wunmi stood, closing the food bag gently and wiping her fingers with a napkin. Michael was still scrolling, relaxed, legs spread, head tipped back against the chair cushion.

Wunmi walked over, makeup flawless, hair snatched back, lips glossy and full. Her dress wasn’t on yet, just a silk robe cinched tight, her legs bare beneath it. She stopped between his knees, her hands resting gently on his thighs.

Michael blinked. “Everything okay?”

She didn’t answer. Just leaned in and kissed him.

This kiss wasn’t like the earlier one; it was deeper, lips parted, full of pressure. Michael responded instantly, setting his phone down and grabbing her waist. He was about to pull her onto his lap when she broke the kiss and dropped to her knees.

He blinked. “Wunmi?”

She was already tugging at his waistband.

His hands froze on the armrests. “What are you–”

“I’m making your morning better,” she murmured, fingers moving to unbutton his pants and pull them and his briefs down just enough.

He sprang free, half-hard and already thickening quickly under her touch.

“You serious?” he breathed, eyes wide, head tilting back slightly as she wrapped her fingers around him.

Wunmi didn’t answer. She just leaned in and licked a slow stripe up the underside of him, her eyes flicking up to meet his. Then her mouth closed around the head. It was warm, wet, and perfect.

Michael groaned, low and long.

Her pace was slow at first, teasing. Tongue swirling just beneath the ridge, lips soft but tight. She used both hands, one at his base, the other stroking gently in rhythm with her mouth. Every few strokes, she went deeper, easing him further into her throat, her breathing steady and controlled.

Michael's hand slipped into her ponytail to ground himself. His eyes stayed locked to her, mouth parted, chest rising with each ragged breath.

“You tryna ruin me before press?” he managed to say, voice tight.

She hummed around him, the vibration making him shudder.

Wunmi found a rhythm quickly: mouth and hands working together, sucking just right at the tip before sliding down, throat relaxing to take more of him each time. The wet sounds echoed quietly in the room, broken only by the occasional curse slipping from Michael’s mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his head falling back.

She pulled off briefly, lips glossy, breath hot against his skin. “I love how you taste in the morning.”

He was about to respond, but she took him back into her mouth before he could speak, this time deeper, her throat flexing as she swallowed around him. Michael’s thighs tensed, one hand gripping the arm of the chair so hard his knuckles whitened.

It didn’t take much longer after that.

His release came with a strangled groan and a whispered “Shit, I’m gonna–” and then his hips stuttered, dick pulsing against her tongue. She took all of it, slow and controlled, holding him in her mouth until he softened.

When she pulled back, her lips were flushed, her gloss mostly gone. She stood calmly, walked to the mirror, and reapplied her lipgloss with the same steady grace she’d done everything else that morning.

Michael was still in the chair, shirt rumpled, breathing unevenly.

Wunmi turned to him with a smirk. She stepped into her dress, zipped it halfway, then nodded at him. “Zip me up. We’re gonna be late.”

He shook his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re gonna kill me.”

And they walked out of the suite ten minutes later, not a single person the wiser.

The rooftop was bright with soft sunlight, the skyline of Mexico City stretching behind them like a painted backdrop. A few high-top tables were scattered with bowls of Mexican candy, sliced grapefruits, bottles of tequila, and tajín, ready for the vampiros drink segment.

The interviewer was all energy and easy charm, bouncing between questions for Hailee and Michael as the crew laughed off-camera.

But Michael? He barely noticed the cameras. His focus kept drifting sideways to Wunmi.

She was standing beside him in a sleeveless multicolored dress that hugged her waist and opened in a plunging neckline that made it harder for him to keep his composure

Her hair was braided back into a ponytail, loose curls falling around her shoulders, and her skin catching the sun in every right place.

Hailee stood on the other side with Ryan, and Miles was standing behind Wunmi. The interviewer immediately started bouncing between them, launching into questions mostly directed at Hailee and Michael.

But Michael barely looked away from Wunmi.

He stood slightly in front of her, always close. When she reached for ingredients, he instinctively helped, opening the bottle for her, holding the grapefruit steady while she squeezed juice in. Their rhythm was natural, practiced even, like two people who cooked together in shared silence and soft music more often than the world knew.

“You wanna put more tajín?” he asked quietly, voice low, just for her.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Yeah, a little.”

He reached past her to sprinkle some on, hand brushing lightly against hers. Not even a flicker of reaction from either of them. It was normal.

The interviewer turned to the table. “Okay! You guys can try the candies while you work on your drinks.”

Wunmi laughed, leaning over the table to inspect the options. “I’ve never had any of this.”

Michael followed her lead, reaching for a brightly colored piece while she popped one into her mouth.

“Mmm,” she murmured. “That’s good. Spicy, but sweet.”

She reached for another one, a longer piece this time, just as Michael leaned over again for a second helping. Without thinking, Wunmi held one up between her fingers and brought it to his mouth.

“Try this one,” she said, her tone soft, absent-minded, like feeding him candy in front of cameras was second nature.

He looked at her, then at the candy, and parted his lips.

Michael’s mouth opened slightly, eyes flicking up to meet hers as he leaned in and took it from her hand, lips brushing her fingertips. The low and genuine sound he made when he tasted it sent a quiet thrill through her.

“Damn,” he muttered, chewing. “I like that one.”

“Right?” she replied, smiling around her words. They leaned into each other slightly, whispering back and forth about the taste, laughing softly. Her eyes sparkled, and he kept looking at her; first her mouth, then her cleavage, then back up like he was trying to behave and failing miserably.

The camera cut to Ryan and Hailee trying candy on the far end of the table. For a moment, it was like no one was watching.

Then came the two-minute drink challenge. Everyone scattered slightly to make their own concoctions. Wunmi moved to step around Michael to grab something from Hailee’s side of the table, and without even thinking, Michael placed both hands gently on her waist, guiding her past him.

He didn’t even realize he’d done it. It was like breathing. She didn’t pause, and he didn’t let go until she was far enough away.

While she made her drink, he stayed close, quietly checking on her without words. His glances weren’t possessive, but they were protective. Making sure she had what she needed, that no one was crowding her, that she looked okay.

By the time they wrapped, everyone was laughing and full of sugar, sticky fingers and red lips. The producer called them together for a group photo in front of the Mexico City skyline.

Wunmi’s smile was wide and easy. The kind that lit up every inch of her face. Michael slid beside her like second nature, slipping an arm around her waist. His grip was gentle but grounded.

And her hand brushed his wrist, just barely, just enough.

They were back in their suite after a long night of pictures, interviews, and interacting with fans at the premiere. It was quiet. City lights filtered in through the large windows, streaking the room in gold and blue. The hum of traffic far below barely registered. Their bags were packed, tomorrow’s clothes laid out. But none of that mattered right now.

What mattered was the bed and the space between them that had finally, finally closed.

They hadn’t touched all day. With separate arrivals, separate carpet entrances, separate interviews, smiles, photo ops, and polite laughter. Every moment, Michael had felt that quiet absence in his chest, the ache of not being as close to her as he wanted to be.

Now, Wunmi lay beneath him in a worn tee and cotton underwear, bonnet secure, skin still warm from the shower. Michael hovered above her, shirtless, breath shallow, muscles taut with restraint.

His hands were on either side of her shoulders, braced against the mattress. His hips lowered, not quite pressing into her, but close.

“I missed you today,” he murmured, voice gravel-deep. His eyes were locked on hers, searching. He kissed her shoulder slowly. Then her neck. Then behind her ear.

Wunmi cupped his cheek. “You saw me.”

“Barely. You know what I mean.”

He leaned down and kissed her, soft at first, then hungrier. His mouth moved over hers like he was trying to memorize the shape of it again. Her hands slid up his arms, slow and familiar, fingers tracing the curve of his biceps.

She opened under him for a moment, kissing him back, letting herself get swept for a breath until his hips rocked just slightly forward and she felt him, hard and throbbing, through his boxers.

She broke the kiss gently. “Michael.”

He kissed down her neck, across her collarbone, murmuring into her skin.

“I know. I know, you’re still on. But baby,” He lifted his head, eyes dark. “It’s been days. I just want to feel you again.”

“I know,” she said, turning her face toward him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I know.”

She exhaled, her hand resting on his chest now, trying to hold space between them. “I don’t think I'm up for it tonight.”

“I’ve got condoms,” he offered quickly, desperate but soft. “We can be careful.”

She gave a small, tired smile. “It’s not about that. I’m just not in the space for it.”

He stilled, breathing hard. His face dropped to her shoulder, and he kissed her there again, slowly this time. Less convincing, more needing.

Then, he looked back up at her, eyes heavy, lips parted. He grabbed her hand, brought it down between them, and pressed it against the hard length of him through his boxers.

“Just feel it,” he whispered. “Feel what you do to me.”

Wunmi let her palm rest there, the heat of him pulsing into her skin, the weight of his want clear, urgent. Her thumb grazed him once, slowly.

He groaned, dropping his forehead to hers. “I want you so bad it hurts.”

She kissed him once, before pulling her hand away.

“Not tonight, baby.”

Michael’s jaw clenched not in anger, but in a mix of frustration and longing. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice barely audible. “I just…I needed you so bad, and I got caught up.”

She brushed her fingers through his hair, grounding him. “You don’t have to be sorry. I love that you want me and can’t keep your hands off me. But you need to be patient right now, okay?”

His face softened, and he nodded his head. Slowly, he shifted, rolling onto his side and pulling her into his chest. His cock was still hard, trapped between their bodies. She could feel it throbbing faintly against her hip.

“I’m gonna have the worst case of blue balls,” he muttered against her hair, and she laughed, full and quiet.

“You’ll survive,” she said, kissing his chest.

“Barely,” he whispered.

But he didn’t try again. He just held her tightly. Pressed his face into her neck and let her warmth settle everything aching inside him.

Want still lingered, but love was louder.

Los Angeles, CA April 1st

The flight from Mexico had just landed early that morning. L.A. felt like a ghost town, a cool breeze whispering across empty streets.

Neither of them said much when they hugged goodbye at the curb. Just a quiet, tired kiss and a squeeze.

“You get some sleep,” she murmured.

“You too. Call me when you wake up.”

Wunmi’s bedroom was filled with soft, filtered light when she finally stirred. Her suitcase still sat half-unpacked at the foot of the bed. The purple premiere gown hung alone on the back of the door like a memory. She stretched beneath the covers, sore in that good, worn-out way. The kind that said you’d been working, smiling too much, and hugging too many strangers. But underneath the fatigue was a buzz she couldn’t shake.

She could still feel the heat of his body from when he’d curled around her last night. His lips on her shoulder. The weight of his need. The way he’d tried to be patient.

She smiled to herself and rolled out of bed, stretching fully before reaching for her phone. There was a lot to do.

She had check-ins with her team, fittings for the U.S. premiere, voiceover pickups for an animated project, and a lunch meeting with her stylist about upcoming looks. The day filled quickly, with outfit changes, traffic, messages from her manager, and emails from the press team. Somewhere in the middle of it, she paused in her car between meetings, hand resting against the curve of her abdomen, remembering how his breath had hitched when she said “not tonight, baby.”

Michael’s day wasn’t much lighter. He had a few solo press calls to knock out, notes to approve for the rollout, and a production meeting for a project he was attached to but couldn’t yet talk about publicly. Most of the day, he spent in motion, on calls, reading scripts, doing voice memos into his phone from the back seat of an SUV.

But his mind drifted to the way Wunmi looked standing in that plum gown in Mexico, her laugh over breakfast, and to the soft “no” she gave him in bed, even as he was trembling with want.

He wanted to be near her again. Not even to touch her, just to feel her hand on the back of his neck, her knee against his under a table, the grounding, lived-in warmth she always gave without trying.

He pulled up her name in his phone at least four times. Started a message and erased it.

By late evening, he settled for sending her a random photo of himself in a hoodie, pillow behind his head. With a message following about how much he messed her.

She didn’t reply right away. But when she did, hours later, it was a voice note. With her voice sounding tired and amused.

“You’re so dramatic. Go to sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And just hearing her say it was enough to finally let his body rest.

April 2nd

The lights were hot. The chairs were close. The backdrop, a glowing, sunlit gradient, gave everything a kind of faux warmth that didn’t match how long the day had already been.

Wunmi sat effortlessly composed, her crisp white button-down dress with its dramatic sleeves neatly pressed, cinched at the waist, catching just enough of the light to make her look like she belonged to something bigger. Her braided bun was neat, her earrings bold, and she laughed like she meant it, even when the jokes weren’t that funny.

Michael, seated right next to her, was all calm and quiet in a black checked zip-up, silver chain peeking out at his collar. He looked composed, but tired. Yet, he looked hungry.

Not in a way the cameras would catch, but anyone who really knew him could see it. The way he’d lean in a little too far when she spoke. How his eyes drifted just long enough to her mouth, her hands, her collar. How he sometimes forgot the camera was even there. And then there were the under the table moments.

During one virtual interview, the camera only caught them from the waist up. Wunmi was mid-answer when Michael subtly hooked his ankle behind her foot beneath the table. A soft, instinctive tether.

She didn’t look at him. She didn’t have to. She nudged her foot right back, just enough to hold him there.

But now they were on camera again. This time for an interview with Hailee. And the interviewer was a little too enthusiastic and a little too fixated on Wunmi. At least that’s what it seemed like in Michael’s eyes.

“Wunmi, I have to say,” the man grinned, “you absolutely crushed it. Like, next-level. There’s this elegance you bring to your character that just lives in the silence.”

Wunmi smiled graciously. “Thank you. That’s really generous.”

“No, honestly. It’s rare to see someone who can hold that kind of power.”

Michael’s jaw flexed slightly. He kept his hands clasped together between his knees.

“She’s magnetic, right?” Hailee added with a playful grin.

The interviewer nodded, eyes still locked on Wunmi. “Beyond. You were layered. Dangerous and vulnerable. How do you even prepare for something like that? Or is it just natural?”

Wunmi gave a measured answer, something about backstory work and finding softness in strength, but Michael barely heard it. His eyes were on the guy, reading every glance, every grin. He couldn’t call it. It wasn’t unprofessional, but it felt close.

He shifted slightly, legs spreading a little wider, gaze fixed just past the camera. And when the interviewer laughed a little too loud at something Wunmi said, a comment that wasn’t even a joke, Michael blinked slowly, then licked his bottom lip, jaw clenched.

He wasn’t going to say anything. He really couldn’t. This was part of their job: smile and entertain, but he didn’t have to like it.

After the segment, while the crew reset, Wunmi turned toward him, voice low. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, eyes still forward.

She nudged his arm. “You sure?”

Michael finally looked at her. “He likes you.”

Wunmi blinked, then tilted her head. “You jealous?”

He shrugged, lips twitching at the corners. “Just observant.”

She smiled, then leaned in. “You act like you don’t know who I go home with.”

He did. God, he did.

“That’s not the issue,” he said. “The issue is I can’t pull you into my lap mid-interview to make that clear.”

Wunmi bit her lip to hide her laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

Michael leaned back just slightly, enough to look relaxed again for the next camera cue.

“Maybe,” he muttered. “But I’m your ridiculous.”

She sat up straighter, laughing now, and nonchalantly brushed her sleeve off. “Damn right you are.”

Wunmi’s face glowed on the screen, soft and warm under the low lights of her bedroom. Her makeup was still mostly intact, earrings off, braid loosened down her back. She was curled up in bed with one arm tucked behind her pillow and the other propping her phone against her shoulder.

Michael’s screen was dimmer, his room darker, his face half-lit from the bedside lamp. He was shirtless, his head resting back against the wall. They’d been talking for a while, small stuff, the kind of catch-up that came after a long day apart.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Some guy paid for our dinner tonight.”

Michael blinked. “What?”

Wunmi laughed, shrugging casually. “Yeah, random. I went out with Sam and Lydia. We were at this place in Silver Lake, and he overheard us talking about the premiere stuff. He asked the waiter to cover the bill.”

Michael’s brows furrowed. “He heard you talking and paid?”

“Yeah. We were chatting about fittings and stuff. He complimented us, but we just said thank you and kept it moving.”

He nodded slowly. “Did you talk to him?”

“A little. Just to say thank you. He was nice, that’s all.”

Michael’s jaw flexed subtly, but he didn’t say anything. His silence stretched a little too long.

Wunmi’s eyes narrowed on the screen. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, low.

“Michael.”

“I mean–” he paused, exhaled sharply. “I just don’t get it. Some guy hears you talking about a movie and decides to pay for your whole table?”

“It was one dinner,” she said. “And I told you about it.”

“I know,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “I just…I don’t like that.”

Wunmi sat up straighter. “You don’t like it? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” he said, suddenly restless, shifting on the bed. “It’s weird.”

She blinked. “It’s weird that I had dinner with my friends and a stranger did something kind?”

“It’s weird that he inserted himself.”

“He paid for a meal.”

Michael sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re not hearing me.”

“No, you’re not hearing me,” she said, quieter now, but firmer. “I told you. I didn’t hide it. I was open with you because I thought we had that.”

“We do–”

“Then why are you acting like I messed up?”

“I’m not saying you messed up,” he snapped, then stopped himself, jaw tightening again. “I’m saying I don’t like how it made me feel.”

Her voice was soft now. “Then say that, Michael. Say that you felt uncomfortable, or jealous, or whatever the hell you’re feeling. But don’t twist it into me doing something wrong.”

Michael looked down. Ran a hand over his face.

“I don’t usually feel like this,” he muttered. “I don’t get like this.”

Wunmi sighed. “That’s not an excuse to project it on me.”

“I know.”

There was another pause.

She shook her head slowly, exhaustion overtaking her voice. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Wunmi–”

“Goodnight, Michael.”

The screen went dark as the call ended.

Michael stared at the empty FaceTime interface for a while, then lay back on his bed, hands over his face.

He wasn’t mad at her. He was mad at the feeling. The way it crept up in his throat and made him short when he should’ve just been honest.

He closed his eyes, her last words echoing in the quiet.

That’s not an excuse to project it on me.

And she was right. Now he just had to figure out how to fix it.

LA Premiere April 4th

Michael had been trying all day. Sending texts, trying to call, and sending a voice note he re-recorded three times before sending. Another one, shorter, just saying “I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please talk to me.”

Wunmi hadn’t responded. She said not a word. Not even her usual emoji reaction.

By 4 p.m., he was pacing in his hotel room with his phone in one hand and a suit steamer in the other, wishing he could rewind the last 24 hours.

By 6, they were all headed to the premiere venue.

The carpet was massive. Music pulsed behind velvet ropes, fans screamed, and the press clicked their cameras. Flash after flash, the energy was flowing everywhere.

And somewhere in the middle of all that noise, Wunmi stepped out of her car looking like vengeance in blue, and a slick, braided updo that framed her face like art. Her expression was perfectly composed, radiant, yet unreadable.

Michael’s heart squeezed at the sight of her. Not just because she looked stunning, but because she still wasn’t looking at him.

She greeted the rest of the cast. Took photos with fans. Laughed with Miles, grinned at Hailee, hugged Ryan. But when it came to Michael, she kept it business; a nod, a practiced smile, with no real warmth.

To the outside world, they looked fine, like any other polished cast doing their job. But the people who knew them saw it.

During one round of photos, Hailee leaned in and muttered, “Did you piss her off or something?”

Michael’s jaw tightened. “Something like that.”

Miles raised an eyebrow behind him. “Man, what’d you do?”

Michael didn’t answer. Because if he said it out loud, it would sound petty. Or worse, it would sound like he was insecure. And it wasn’t about the dinner or the guy. It was about how he handled it, or how he didn’t know how to handle it.

Now he was here, suited up and sharp under the lights, standing next to the woman he loved while pretending everything was fine. But it wasn’t. She hadn’t even made eye contact with him yet.

Still, he stayed close. He didn’t push. He didn’t corner her. But when it was time for their joint interviews, he was there, ready.

For one of them, a long-form on-camera segment, the interviewer smiled as she handed Michael the mic. He took it then turned to Wunmi, offering the mic gently so she could answer the first question. His hand rested low at her back, a light, guiding touch at her waist.

She answered calmly, eloquently, and as charming as ever. Michael nodded beside her, keeping the mic steady, eyes flicking toward her every now and then like he needed her to feel that he was listening, even if she wouldn’t look at him.

And she never once glanced at him. But when she passed the mic back for his turn, their fingers brushed, and she didn’t pull away.

After the last round of photos, Michael released a breath, then stepped out just in time to see Wunmi getting ushered toward the theater entrance.

She looked tired. Not physically, but emotionally. Like she was trying to hold it all together.

He wanted to run to her. Apologize again, but say it better this time.

But he couldn’t. So he just trailed behind, watching her back, heart thudding with everything he still hadn’t said. Even in silence, even with her mad at him, he was still watching her. Still making sure she was good. Because that’s what love looked like, even when it was hurting.

The theater was dark, except for the flicker of the screen and the occasional flash of phones before security reminded people to put them away. The cast had filed into their reserved row near the center.

Michael scanned the seats and cursed under his breath. Jayme was sitting between them. Of course, she was.

He hesitated for a second before leaning over, voice low. “Jayme. Please. I need a favor.”

She blinked at him, amused. “What?”

“Can I switch with you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Please. I need to sit next to her.”

Jayme glanced at Wunmi, who sat primly with her legs crossed and arms folded, eyes focused ahead.

“Y’all good?” Jayme asked.

“Not yet,” Michael muttered. “That’s why I need the seat.”

Jayme studied him for a second longer, then sighed and stood. “You better fix it.”

Michael mouthed, thank you, and slid into the seat beside Wunmi just as the movie started. Her body stiffened slightly when she realized he was there.

“Don’t,” she whispered, eyes still on the screen.

“I need to.”

“Bakari.”

“I know, okay? I know I messed up. I know I made something small feel like something bigger.”

She didn’t respond. He kept going anyway.

“You were being real with me and I acted like you owed me something more.”

Wunmi shifted slightly, not looking at him.

“I wasn’t mad at you,” he whispered. “I was mad at how it made me feel. And I didn’t know how to sit with that.”

Still nothing.

He tried again, this time quieter. “I was scared.”

Her head turned slightly now. Just a little.

“Not of losing you,” he added. “Of messing up something that’s too good. Of you realizing you could have any man who’d pay for dinner and not fumble the after.”

That finally cracked something.

She huffed softly, barely a laugh, and shook her head.

“I told you the truth,” she whispered, eyes still on the screen.

“I know,” he said.

They sat in silence again. The movie played on, but Michael didn’t hear any of it. His fingers inched across the armrest, stopping just before they touched hers. Then, slowly, she slid her pinky against his.

He held his breath, let it settle, and didn't push.

Another ten minutes passed before she finally leaned in, voice so quiet only he could hear.

“Don’t do that again.”

Michael turned to her, eyes soft. “I won’t.”

She nodded once. “And don’t assume just because I’m smiling for cameras that I’m smiling for you.”

“I’m learning.”

Her hand finally curled into his.

“Good,” she murmured. “Because next time, I’ll make Hailee sit between us.”

He chuckled too loudly. She elbowed him.

“Shhh,” someone whispered from behind them.

But he didn’t care.

The second the front door closed behind them, the air shifted.

Neither of them spoke. There was no small talk, no recap of the premiere, no light teasing to smooth the night’s sharp edges. Michael watched her slip out of her heels and cross the room in silence. She had switched her dress after the premiere on the way to the after-party. Now she was in a silver dress that was riding up the further she walked into the room.

He could still feel the phantom of her hand in his from the theater, but he hadn’t touched her since. Not really.

“Wunmi,” he said, his voice low but sure.

She turned to look at him.

“I’m not spending another day like that. Ever.”

She didn’t answer, but her expression softened.

Michael walked toward her slowly, closing the distance. When he got close, he reached for her hand, brought it to his chest, and kissed the inside of her wrist.

“You’re about to be my wife,” he said, voice rough with held-in emotion. “You get mad at me, you tell me. You shut down, I’ll wait. But don’t you ever do what you did today again. You hear me?”

Wunmi nodded, eyes on his. “I hear you.”

He kissed her, softly at first. Then again, deeper, hungrier. All the ache from the last twenty-four hours poured into it. His hands were already roaming, gripping her waist, dragging the thin straps of her dress down in one slow pull until it slipped to the floor like silk.

“No more silence,” he murmured against her skin, dropping to his knees before her.

Wunmi’s breath hitched as he kissed the inside of her thigh, his hands smoothing up her legs and dragging her panties down slowly. He looked up at her, steady.

“I can live without a lot of things,” he said. “But I can’t live without you.” Then he buried his face between her legs.

Her head fell back immediately, mouth parting in a gasp. Michael worked like a man possessed; slow at first, savoring her, tongue moving in long, wet strokes, hands gripping her hips to keep her right where he wanted her. He groaned into her, the sound low, guttural, like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

When her legs trembled, he doubled down, lips wrapping around her clit, sucking gently, then harder, until her hands found his curls and she whispered his name in a voice that cracked.

“Michael– fuck, baby–”

He didn’t stop. Not until she was shaking, moaning, melting into him. Not until her hips rolled against his mouth and she came, high and broken, calling out his name like a promise.

Then he stood. Her eyes were glassy, dazed, full of everything she hadn’t said before now.

He didn’t ask. He just turned her around, bent her over the couch with a firm hand between her shoulder blades, and pulled his pants low.

“This mine,” he muttered, rubbing the head of his dick against her soaked entrance.

“All yours,” she breathed.

He slid into her in one stroke. One hand gripped her waist, and the other slid over her shoulders and landed on her throat, keeping her steady as he drove into her again and again.

“You don’t ignore me,” he growled into her ear. “Not when I’m trying.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

“Say it again.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so– fuck– I’m sorry.”

Her words broke apart with every thrust, her legs nearly giving out. Michael pulled her upright, one hand gripping her jaw, the other pressed to her chest where her heart beat wildly.

“I love you so much it makes me stupid,” he whispered against her neck. “Don’t ever shut me out like that again.”

“I won’t,” she said, tears at the edges of her voice.

And with that, he wrapped his arms around her body and fucked her deeper, not just to claim her, but to anchor himself to her all over again.

April 9th

Their bags were packed, passports double-checked, with their flight to London set for early morning. The past week had been nonstop; press junkets, late nights, quick changes, and even quicker moments snatched in between. They’d barely had time to breathe, let alone slow down. But tonight, the stillness settled around them like something sacred.

Wunmi was in Michael’s bed, curled under a throw blanket in one of his old T-shirts, scrolling through her iPad as the soft hum of the soundbar played an old jazz record. Her hair was down, her body relaxed. That kind of quiet that only came from being completely safe.

Michael came out of the bathroom in a tank top and sweats, towel in hand, drying his face as he walked in. He paused when he saw her, letting his eyes just rest on her face.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

She looked up, then nodded. “Just thinking about home.”

He walked over and sat at the edge of the bed. “You nervous?”

“No,” she said, placing the iPad down. “I’m just…it’s been a while. And it’s not just home anymore, you know? It’s the place I grew up, but now it’s also the place I’m bringing you.”

Michael smiled, reaching down to take her foot in his hands, rubbing slow circles into her ankle. “You act like your family doesn’t already know me.”

“They haven’t seen us together, though. Not like this.”

He nodded, quiet for a moment, before looking up at her. “I’ve been thinking about that too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice lowered, a little rough now. “I think it’s been so much lately, but now that we’re going to your place, I just wanna slow down.”

She slid closer to him, shifting so her legs draped across his lap. “You feeling soft on me?”

He laughed. “I always feel soft about you. Just haven’t had the time to show you.”

Her fingers found his. “We’ve been moving fast.”

“Too fast.” He looked at her now, really looked. “I don’t want the next time I hold you to feel rushed. I want it to feel like it means something.”

She searched his face, her smile quiet, steady. He leaned down and kissed her. She kissed him back, slow and patient, the kind of kiss that made you feel like time had folded in on itself, like the only thing that mattered was the present moment.

When they pulled back, she rested her forehead against his.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For choosing peace and stillness, finally.”

Michael kissed her once more, then wrapped an arm around her and pulled her down with him. They lay together, limbs tangled, heartbeat to heartbeat, no rush.

And in the quiet that followed, somewhere between their slowed breathing and the soft music drifting in from the next room, Michael whispered, “You’re about to take me home. I want to be the version of myself that deserves that.”

Wunmi didn’t say anything. She just kissed his hand, laced their fingers together, and held on until they both fell asleep.

London, UK April 10th

The city unfolded below them in scattered lights, wet pavement, narrow streets, and the cool hush of a London night.

It was just after 10 p.m. when the car pulled up to the hotel. It was tucked away in the quieter part of town where the lobby smelled like cedar and lemon, and the check-in process was handled in a whisper.

Wunmi was practically buzzing. She hadn’t said much during the ride from Heathrow, just stared out the window like she was trying to memorize every corner, every curve of the streets she knew by heart. Now, standing in the elevator beside Michael, her hand found his automatically.

“You good?” he asked, voice low, warm.

“Mmhm,” she nodded, eyes flicking up at him. “It’s just that I haven’t brought anyone home in a long time.”

Michael smiled, pulling her hand to his lips. “Feels special.”

She bumped his hip gently. “It is special.”

Their rooms were next to each other, connected by a private door, separated for appearance purposes. PR still wanted things to look clean. But by the time they’d dropped their bags, showered, and ordered tea from room service, they were curled up together on her bed, soft music playing from her phone.

Wunmi wore a robe and fresh twists tucked under her scarf. Michael was in sweatpants and socks, his arm draped around her like he’d been there for years.

“This city moves slower,” he murmured.

“A little bit.”

“I like it.”

She leaned into him, eyes fluttering closed for a second.

“We’ve got press starting at 9,” she said. “But we have time for you to meet the family this week.”

Michael’s smile shifted still soft, but steadier. “You sure they’re ready for me?”

“They’ve been ready,” she said, sitting up just enough to look at him.

He studied her face for a long second, then nodded once. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

“You know they’re going to be all over you. But they’ll like you because you show up the way you do when you think no one’s watching. That’s the man I’m bringing home.” She smirked.

He pulled her back into his chest. She melted into him, fingers grazing his wrist, and they lay like that, jetlagged but content, the hum of London outside the window like a heartbeat.

The London sky was still gray when Wunmi sat in the makeup chair, robe loose at the neck, shoulders relaxed, but her eyes heavy with sleep. She’d been up since before dawn. Her hair was already halfway done, and the makeup artist moved quietly around her. Her curls had been parted into thick, clean sections, and her stylist was just starting to shape them into smooth, thick braids.

She sat quietly, sipping tea she couldn’t remember asking for, blinking slowly as they worked around her.

They had a full day of press ahead. Radio, online junkets, interviews. And she was tired. The kind of tired that pressed into her bones. She was trying her hardest, but her body was still somewhere between London and L.A.

A knock at the door managed to pull her attention.

“Delivery for Miss Mosaku.”

Everyone in the room turned, except Wunmi, who was too tired to react fast enough. But when the stylist opened the door, there he was.

Michael, fully dressed in a white tee and fitted jeans, stepped inside with two takeaway cups in one hand and a small bouquet of fresh flowers in the other, soft lavender, white ranunculus, and pale pink roses, wrapped in crisp paper.

He walked straight over to her.

“Morning, superstar,” he said, grinning.

Wunmi blinked up at him and smiled before she could stop herself. “You’re already dressed?”

“Yeah, you know it doesn’t take me long,” he teased. He held out the coffee. “I got your order right this time.”

She took it, still smiling, fingers brushing his. “You got me flowers?”

He shrugged, setting them gently on the makeup table beside her. “You’ve been up for hours. Thought you needed a good wake-up call.”

One of the stylists behind her muttered, “Okay, gentleman,” and the room chuckled.

Wunmi exhaled, leaning back just slightly in the chair as she took a slow sip. The caffeine was helping, but his presence helped far more.

He stood near the mirror, arms crossed, watching as they finished her hair. His eyes scanned her through the mirror.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “You look unreal.”

Wunmi gave him a sleepy smirk. “Stop it. I’m fighting for my life right now.”

He laughed, stepped closer, and crouched down beside her.

“Good thing I’m stuck with you all day,” he said. “I’ll keep you awake.”

“By being annoying?”

He leaned in just slightly, voice low, for her ears only. “By keeping you smiling and happy.”

Later that morning, they sat side by side in the Heart Radio press room, red mics in hand, bright lights on them, their backdrop a glowing sun, and the word Sinners behind them in bold yellow text.

Michael was relaxed, leaning back slightly, letting Wunmi take the lead as she spoke, dressed in a dramatic all-black one-shoulder dress. He kept sneaking glances at her, grinning whenever she made a joke, throwing in ad-libs just to make her laugh.

She caught him once, mid-smirk, and mouthed stop without missing a beat. But of course, he didn’t stop.

She was tired, still. The fatigue hadn’t lifted. But with him beside her, elbow brushing hers now and then, mic in hand, doing a little too much just to make her laugh? She didn’t feel it as much.

And somehow, the cameras never caught the way he was always looking at her first before answering a question, just to make sure she was okay.

The last interview wrapped just after sunset. Everyone was buzzing with adrenaline from being "on" all day, the shared momentum of a successful press run, and the fact that they were in one of the best cities in the world with a night off ahead of them.

Ryan and Jack were already talking about a pub in Shoreditch. Hailee was excited about finding this underground jazz club she’d bookmarked. Miles was hungry and trying to convince everyone to start with food first.

“Wunmi,” Hailee said, nudging her, “you’re the local. Where should we go?”

“Yeah,” Jack chimed in, eyes wide with curiosity. “Best food, best vibes, let’s hear it.”

Wunmi smiled, polite and easy. “There’s a really good spot in Soho I used to love, nothing too fancy.”

“Say less,” Ryan said. “That’s where we’re headed.”

They all started filing out toward the waiting vans, still laughing, tossing ideas and playlists back and forth. Michael stayed near the back of the group, just watching. He saw how Wunmi smiled and nodded, how she kept her arms folded tightly across her chest, not because she was cold, but because she was tired.

She wasn’t going to say no. That wasn’t who she was. But she needed rest. He knew it before she did.

So while the others were ordering at the restaurant, Michael slipped away to the bar. He spoke low and politely, handed over his card, and ordered two meals to go. Her favorite, just how she liked it when her head was starting to fog from the day.

While he waited for the bag, something caught his eye; a young couple at a corner table, clearly tourists. They had a toddler in a high chair throwing little bits of bread everywhere, and a baby strapped to the mom’s chest, fast asleep.

Michael stared for a moment longer than he meant to. The look wasn’t sad or wanting, it was more like wondering.

The way the mom leaned her head on the dad’s shoulder. The way he kissed her temple and reached over to wipe the toddler’s hands. The way they moved around each other like they were a team.

By the time the food was ready, he came back to find the group still laughing, still deciding what bar was next. Wunmi was at the center, smiling faintly but not speaking much, her hand bracing against the table like she needed something to lean on.

Michael slid the takeout bag into her hand before she could say a word.

She looked up at him, confused. “What’s this?”

“Dinner,” he said. “We’re going back to the hotel.”

“Michael, I’m–”

“You’re tired,” he said gently, without teasing. “I know you’re trying to hang, but I got you.”

She stared at him for a second, like she might argue. But instead, she exhaled and nodded.

“Thank you.”

Back in the hotel suite, he helped her out of her coat and into the robe they had hanging on the back of the bathroom door. They sat on the bed, lights dim, legs touching as he opened the food and handed her a fork.

“Eat first,” he said. “Then sleep.”

And she did. It was slow, but she made it through.

He watched her, legs stretched out, head starting to tilt onto his shoulder.

“You’re taking care of me too much,” she murmured.

Michael looked down at her, brushing his thumb along her jaw. “Could never be too much of that.”

She didn’t argue. She just leaned into him, her food forgotten, and her lids heavy.

When she finally fell asleep in his arms, he didn’t move. Somewhere deep in his chest, the thought returned that he could build a life like this. With her and maybe a family.

April 12th

The sun had dipped just below the rooftops by the time the car pulled up outside the semi-detached house in South Manchester. The kind of neighborhood that held memories in every crack of the sidewalk, every porch with a potted plant or plastic chair that hadn’t moved in a decade. The air smelled like freshly watered concrete and something simmering with garlic and onions.

Wunmi took a deep breath as they stepped out of the car, wrapping her coat a little tighter. She looked up at the house for a beat before turning to Michael.

“You ready, babe?”

Michael smirked, adjusting the sleeve of his sweater. “Always.”

She rolled her eyes, grinning. “Just don’t embarrass me.”

“Never.” He took her hand, laced their fingers together, and followed her up the short walkway.

The moment the door opened, they were hit with warmth. Her mother was the first to appear, dressed in a vibrant patterned wrap, arms wide open.

“Wunmi, come here!”

They hugged tightly, laughter bubbling between them. Then her mom turned to Michael.

“Michael,” she said, eyeing him playfully.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, offering both a smile and a hand.

She didn’t take the hand. She pulled him into a hug.

“You know I like my hugs, yes?”

Michael chuckled. “Me too.”

They were ushered in quickly, shoes by the door without question. The smell of spiced stew and rice floated from the kitchen, and voices echoed from the living room where her siblings, cousins, and a few family friends were already gathered. It didn’t take long for the ring to become the center of attention.

Her aunt gasped when she saw it. “Eh-eh! You didn’t tell us it was this big!”

“Let me see!” another cousin shouted. “Wunmi, you’ve been hiding this hand!”

Michael stood off to the side for a moment, watching the way her family surrounded her, touching her hand and hugging her. Her smile was effortless here, her laugh louder, her energy lighter. It made him fall in love with her all over again.

“Michael!” her uncle boomed. “Come! We’ve got questions.”

He grinned. “I figured.”

They grilled him gently. Asked where he was from, when he started acting, what his parents were like, and if he could handle real pepper. Someone even made a crack about his People’s Sexiest Man Alive title. But it was never hostile. They were inviting and teasing.

And Michael handled it perfectly. Joked when needed, answered thoughtfully, and kept glancing at Wunmi like she was still the only thing in the room.

At one point, her mother pulled Wunmi aside and said, quietly but firmly, “He looks at you like you’re the only person in the world.”

Wunmi smiled. “That’s how he makes me feel.”

Later, while dinner was being set, Michael helped bring plates into the dining room, taking instructions from her aunties without complaint.

When they sat to eat, Michael took the seat beside Wunmi, knee against hers, hand brushing hers under the table. She squeezed his hand gently.

“You’re doing good,” she whispered.

He smiled, low and private. “I just like seeing you home.”

The house had thinned out a little after dinner. A few older aunties were sipping tea and gossiping in Yoruba. Music hummed low from someone’s phone speaker. The air smelled like stew and family.

Michael sat on the floor of the living room, surrounded by a small chaos of children. One kid had decided he was a jungle gym. Another kept asking about his watch. Two were trying to pull him into a clumsy hand-clapping game he didn’t understand but kept trying anyway. He was laughing, genuinely.

Across the room, Wunmi was sitting on the couch, gently rocking her cousin’s baby, a chubby-cheeked girl no older than ten months, who’d fallen asleep on her chest. One hand stroked the baby’s back while the other kept the tiny blanket in place. She looked peaceful. Fully in her element.

Michael looked up and caught her like that, and the whole room just quieted in his head. Something inside him stilled. The laughter around him dulled. The kids were still tugging at his hands, but all he could focus on was her; her face, her arms, the way her body shifted gently to keep the baby from stirring.

And just like that, the thought came back. The thought that this life could be theirs. Not just the baby, but the whole moment. The easy way she fit into that kind of quiet. His woman. His family. His home.

It wasn't the first time the thought had surfaced. But this time it hit different. He was sitting in her family’s home, eating her mom’s cooking, and laughing with her cousins’ kids. And damn if he didn’t feel something pull tight in his chest.

She looked up then, catching his gaze. He softly smiled back at her. She tilted her head, brows raised like, ‘What?’ He just shook his head, still smiling, heart heavy with something he wasn’t ready to say out loud yet. The thought stayed tucked behind his ribs like a slow, certain truth.

The ride back to the hotel had been quiet, not from tension, but from a soft tiredness that comes after too much food, too much laughter, and too many voices calling your name across a warm room. Wunmi had kicked her shoes off in the elevator. Michael had carried them the whole way up.

Now they were curled up in her bed, lights off, just the faintest street glow filtering through the sheer curtains. The room was cool, but under the duvet, it was warm, soft, and still.

Michael was spooning her from behind, his arm draped fully across her waist, his nose pressed to the crook of her neck. He hadn't let go since they got in bed. Every few minutes, his fingers would trace along her ribs, or press a kiss to her shoulder, or run lightly down the curve of her arm just to feel her there.

Wunmi smiled into the pillow.

“You’re extra cuddly tonight,” she murmured.

Michael hummed sleepily. “Mmm. So?”

She chuckled, turning just enough to glance back at him. “I like it. But you’re not slick.”

He didn’t respond. Just kissed the back of her neck again.

“Be honest,” she said softly. “How was it?”

Michael let out a long breath, voice muffled against her skin. “It was really beautiful.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Your little cousins already asked if I could come back.”

She smiled wider, squeezing his arm. “They like you.”

He kissed her shoulder. “I like them too.”

They lay like that for a moment with just the soft sound of their breathing in sync.

“You were good,” she whispered. “Like, really good. You made them feel like you wanted to be there.”

“I did want to be there,” he said, pulling her closer. “I loved seeing you like that.”

Her chest tightened in the best way. She turned slightly and reached for his face, brushing her thumb across his cheek. “You’re being sweet.”

“I’m always sweet.”

“You’re being extra sweet.”

He smiled, eyes barely open. “Let me.”

She leaned in and kissed him. It was a soft thank you, more than anything else. He kissed her back with the same energy, hand cupping her jaw, thumb grazing her bottom lip before they broke apart.

“Get some sleep,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.

Wunmi nodded and settled back into his chest, her hand resting over his on her waist.

UK Premiere April 14th

The red carpet shimmered under stage lights and camera flashes, the “Sinners” backdrop flickering behind the cast like smoldering fire. Reporters shouted names, publicists hovered, and the velvet ropes barely held back the waves of fans calling out with phones raised high. But Michael only saw her.

Wunmi was radiant, draped in a red gown that clung and flowed in all the right ways, slit high up her leg, her skin glowing against the boldness of the color. Her hair was sculpted into a sleek, braided updo, elegant and dramatic, the kind of styling that made people pause just to admire.

And Michael had been fighting the heat in his chest since they left the hotel.

It wasn’t just attraction. It was need. That ache of wanting to be around her, near her, just in her space. It pulled at him all night like gravity. Even when they weren’t standing together, his eyes found her. His body tilted unconsciously toward wherever she moved. He couldn’t help himself.

He was supposed to move with the group, hit his mark, pose, pivot, and smile, but he kept drifting back to her like his body forgot what professionalism looked like. She wasn’t exactly encouraging it, but she wasn’t stopping it either. Not when he leaned in a little too close for a photo. Not when his fingers brushed the small of her back between interviews. Not when she turned her head slightly toward him during a photo, and he had to look away just to breathe.

They took a dozen photos, video clips, and press snippets together. But the cameras didn’t catch the way his hand stayed just behind her hip, steady. Or how he watched her mouth more than her eyes when she answered questions.

Wunmi noticed, of course. She gave him a small “What’s going on with you?” glance.

He didn’t answer, just smiled. But inside, his chest was humming.

It wasn’t just that she looked good. It wasn’t even just that she knew exactly how good she looked. It was the way being next to her tonight made something click in him. He didn’t want to look at her. He wanted to be near her. Touch her. Keep her close. Breathe with her.

Inside the theater, the lights dimmed and the audience settled, but Michael didn’t. He sat beside her, thigh to thigh, trying not to do too much. But even in the dark, his body betrayed him. His fingers brushed her leg, just above the slit in her dress. She shifted slightly, but didn’t pull away.

They watched the film, but he wasn’t really watching. Not with her hand resting on her lap, not with the rise and fall of her breathing beside him, not when every now and then she’d laugh softly at a line she’d heard a hundred times, and he’d look at her instead of the screen.

She let him hold her hand halfway through and he kissed her knuckles.

She looked over once during a quiet moment in the film and found him already watching her. He didn’t look away.

And for all the heat rolling off him, all the things he hadn’t said yet, she could feel that whatever this was building into and it wasn’t just desire.

The tension followed them from the car to the suite. Michael had barely spoken the whole ride back from the premiere. He only nodded at the driver, staying close behind Wunmi as they walked through the hotel lobby, his hand brushing the small of her back, just enough contact to keep him grounded.

Wunmi didn’t say much either. But she felt it.

She felt it in the way he looked at her in the elevator like he was fighting to keep his thoughts to himself. She felt it when she stepped into the suite and his eyes never left her back. She was still glowing from the carpet. When she was wearing that custom red dress, slit high, sculpted bodice, heels that made her taller than him in brief moments. And she knew she looked good.

“I’m gonna shower,” she said softly, already unzipping the dress.

He nodded, jaw tight. “Yeah. Okay.”

By the time the bathroom door clicked shut, Michael was pacing. Shirt half off, chain resting on his chest, hands running over his face like he could shake something loose. What he was feeling wasn’t just sexual frustration. It weighed heavier and ran deeper.

Wunmi in that dress. Her laughing with their castmates. Her holding the baby the night before. Her curled up in his bed last night. He couldn’t stop seeing it. The version of her that wasn’t just his now, but his forever. His woman. His family. The one his heart belonged to.

And now, as he sat on the edge of the bed, trying to calm his body down while she stood in the next room rinsing the day off her skin, his mind looped one question over and over:

What are we waiting for?

The bathroom door opened with a cloud of steam. She stepped out, wrapped in a towel, her shoulders still dewy from the heat. Her hair was loose now, and her skin practically glowed in the dim light.

He stood slowly, grabbing the lotion from the vanity. “Sit down. Let me.”

She watched him for a second before nodding and stepping forward, dropping the towel as she eased onto the edge of the bed. He knelt before her and started rubbing the lotion into her skin with slow, intentional hands. Her calves. Her thighs. Her feet. Kissing the spots as he went.

“Michael,” she said gently, noticing the shift in his energy, the quiet focus in his face. “What’s going on with you, baby?”

He looked up at her, eyes darker than she’d ever seen. His voice came low, like it took effort to ask. “Are you still on your birth control?”

She stared at him for a beat, her body still under his hands, skin warm where he’d been kissing. She was surprised. “I-I missed it the last two days. We’ve been so busy, I didn’t even think about it until last night.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just held her gaze like he was searching for something in it. And then he leaned forward, mouth against her inner thigh, and the words were gone. All of them.

He pulled her toward the center of the bed, lips on her thigh, then higher until he reached what he was looking for. No teasing this time, just mouth to skin. He ate like he was chasing something inside her, like every moan she gave fed something wild in him. She came once with a gasp, her hands twisted in the sheets. And still he didn’t stop. Not even when her thighs shook and her body tried to retreat.

“Michael–” she breathed, already breathless.

He kept her held open and coaxed another orgasm from her with just his tongue and his thumb. By the time he finally moved over her, she was panting, chest rising and falling, eyes hazy with pleasure.

Then he slid into her.

It wasn’t about rhythm. It was about being inside her. His mouth on her collarbone, his hand cupping her breast, one of his favorite places, his forehead pressed to hers.

And she could feel it in the way he was moving. In the way his hips rolled, in how deep he was going, like he wasn’t just chasing his own release. He was chasing something else.

He stared at her as their bodies moved together. Her eyes were holding something warm that made him want to dive deeper, so he did. And he was rewarded with a sharp gasp, and hands flying to grip his swollen arms.

He kissed her neck, his mind swirling on all kinds of thoughts about them and their life, until he settled on one particular thought that wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Have my baby.”

Her breath hitched hard.

“What?”

He slowed, almost stopped. Looked right into her eyes.

“I want you to have my baby,” he said, voice low, trembling with intensity. “I want all of it.”

Her chest clenched. Her heart was racing. And suddenly, the last few days clicked into place, his hands on her stomach, the soft touches, the stares that lingered too long.

And she couldn’t deny that it was something she wanted as well.

“I want to have your baby,” she whispered.

The moment she said it, something shifted in him. His eyes darkened. His grip changed.

And then he started moving again, faster, deeper, rougher. She gasped, arching under him as he started hitting places she didn’t even know existed.

She tried to shift away when he brushed that one spot that was a little deeper, but his arm wrapped around her waist, anchoring her.

“Don’t run,” he growled. “You said yes, so take it.”

“Michael–” she moaned, high and cracking. She could barely speak, barely breathe.

Her nails dug into his back, her legs shaking. He was pressing down on her lower stomach now with one hand, his thrusts getting messier, deeper, more possessive.

Her thoughts scattered like glass. She came again with no sound, mouth open, eyes rolling back. But Michael didn’t let up. Even when her body twitched and begged, he stayed locked in, hands on her thighs, guiding her, keeping her exactly where he needed.

She tried to push against his chest, her hands trembling. He caught them.

“Move your hands, baby,” he said, low and wrecked. “Let me finish, mama.”

By the time he finally came, it was deep inside her, with a groan so raw it made her shake. He held her there, panting, arms wrapped tight around her body like he could fuse them together.

They laid still afterward, limbs tangled, sheets kicked off, silence ringing between them. Michael looked down at her, heart thudding. And for the first time all night, he let himself breathe.

317 notes · View notes

nerdyscouttribute · 21 days ago

Text

What are Brothers For?

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore X Annie

A/N: Sooo, Hi! I write a lil bit, but I’ve never written fan fiction a day in my life and I blame this entirely on Michael and Wumni for shooting that scene the way they did. And I blame Ryan too, for leaving it like that. My brain wouldn’t let me rest until I got these words out on a google doc and I figured I’d post it, cause why not. Lol enjoy, or don’t idk. May not be that amazing but EYE was cheesing while writing it. Also, this is damn near 9k words. I, honest to God, tried to end it at 5k, then 6, then 7 and Stack and Annie? Yea, those mfs were NOT letting me. I do not take responsibility for this length. It ended when they were done 👐🏾

C/W: A lil angst, SMUT, cursing, a beginner in writing southern dialect 🥹, MDI

She should have felt it. As soon as she opened her eyes and dragged herself out of bed. If not then, while she prayed and tended to her alter. If not then, while she washed up and ate a quick breakfast. And if not then, while she opened up shop, despite the rare but heavy downpour that’d started, and that didn’t leave her anticipating many – if any – visitors. She shoulda’ felt that something was….off – something in the air that would make an ordinary Tuesday, unordinary. But she hadn’t.

She blamed it on her mood, on the nasty attitude she’d been tryin’, and failin’, to shake. It’d overtaken her senses. The persistent thrum of irritation buzzing under her skin. The annoyance that’d started off twisting low in her stomach, before slitherin’ its way up to her chest where it settled – heavy and uncomfortable. The anger that gripped at her throat – pointed, hot, unrelentin’ like the Mississippi heat. It was all too heavy, and all that heaviness was distractin’.

Still, she tried to go on like business as usual.

While rain pounded on the roof, Annie worked. Or she started to, taking some light inventory, and then staring into space as if orders filled themselves. As if enough doing nothing could clear her head, and settle her heart, and allow her to do the sacred work her people trusted her with. Truth was, she hadn’t felt clear – hadn’t felt at peace – in days. And maybe that was her fault. Keeping her thoughts to herself and not speakin’ the words she knew she should be mature enough to express.

Words she felt she shouldn’t have to express.

And that’s what really had her swallowin’ down the things that’d be better off spoken. Cause, before, they hadn’t needed words. Annie and Smoke had put the work in, learned each other inside out – had energies so intertwined they could sense when everything was all good. Could sense when it was the opposite. And all it took was a look, a touch, a twitch of a lip to fill each other out and fix what was goin’ on. Even after he’d left for some years, chasing money she didn’t ask for and running behind a brother that would never sit still, their connection was still there. Hadn’t just disappeared. She could still read him better than any bones she threw. And he could still read her – should still be able to read her. Pick up on her moods. Fix what was wrong. But, Annie guessed to fix what was wrong – one had to notice somethin’ was wrong, and to notice somethin’ was wrong, one had to be around – and these days? His black ass never was.

Between the Juke, and whateva’ the hell else he and Stack got up to, Annie didn’t see much difference between him being up north versus back here in the Delta. He was never around when he’d run off to Chicago, and he was hardly around now.

Annie sucked her teeth, just thinkin’ about it. Why should she have to beg for a scrap of his attention after he’d left her? After she’d taken him back despite the pain he’d caused? The pain he was still causing? She wouldn’t do it. Shouldn’t have to do it. Not when he’d talked so much shit ‘bout how he loved her, and was sorry, and was ready ta’ pick up where they left off. It had all sounded good, but words anit mean nothin’ when the only time he cared to be around was when he was sleepin’.

She was confused, and angry, and hurt, and neglected, and horny and it was fuckin’ wit her mojo. She was love and light, and he was bringin’ storm clouds.

Annie shook her head at herself, laughing, completely unamused. “Who else but the great Elijah Moore to get me outta character?” He made her sick. An’ she wanted him to fix it.

A pounding, heavy like the rain, but louder and harsher on her ears, startled Annie out of her thoughts, and she jumped a little, head turning towards her door. The wood threatened to cave in, somebody was kockin’ so hard.

“Now just who in the hell–?”

“Annie! Girl, open this do’. A nigga ‘bouta drown out here!”

Her big brown eyes were rolling before Stack even finished speaking. This anit the Moore she’d asked for. Still, she padded across the room to answer, save he actually break her door down and she have to cut him as a result. She swung the door open, just as Stack, who stood protected from the rain on her porch, had raised his hand to ‘knock’ again.

“You done lost yo mind bangin’ on my door like that? What’s wrong with you?”

Stack’s thick lips split into a grin, arm dropping at his side.

“Now, why you gotta greet a nigga like that Annie? I was just makin’ sure you heard me.” His dimple popped, gold caps glinting. “Now lemme in. It’s nasty out here girl. Hot as hell too.”

And it was. Just cause it was raining in the Delta, didn’t mean it was cool in the Delta. The heat was still there. Now it was just wet heat – thick and humid and suffocating. Still, Annie didn’t move, crossing her arms under her heavy bosom instead.

“What chu’ want Stack?”

His shoulders rose then dropped, lips still curved up. “I was in the area.”

Annie’s cheek didn’t even twitch.

Stack wrinkled his nose playfully.

“You so mean sometimes,” he laughed. “Nah, you got me. I’m playin’ errand boy. Smoke sent me to check up on ya’. Figured it was gone start rainin’ and wanted to make sure you was good. Glad my ass left ‘fo it really started coming down.”

Annie’s cheek twitched at that. But not cause she thought somethin’ was funny. Wasn’t shit funny bout what he’d just said actually.

“‘Scuse me?”

The heavy feeling that already sat in her chest grew heavier, distractin’ her and allowing Stack to slide inside, her feet shifting unconsciously to let him by.

He walked in like he owned the place, eyes flitting over the herbs, and spices, and everything else she had lining the shelves in her shop. He didn’t know if he believed in all that – magic, and spells, and spirits. There was damn sure no magic present when he was growin’ up. No spirits watchin’ over him. No spells to make the bad go away. But shit, maybe it wasn’t like that for everybody – maybe some niggas had somebody on the other side lookin’ out. And maybe he’d had his brother, and his brother’d had him and that was all they’d needed to get through.

“He sent you to what?” Stack turned around to face her.

“To check on you. Why you looking like that?”

Annie didn’t know how she was looking. But she could guess. She felt her eyes squint further, like she could make sense of the words Stack was saying. Not that they were hard to comprehend, just that–

“Why he couldn’t bring his ass down here and check on me himself?”

Stack blinked. Then smirked.

“He holed up in his lil office, stressin’ bout numbers like always. What, you miss him? Yo man’ll be back tonight girl.”

Annie laughed. Sharp, decisive, done.

“The hell he will,” Annie started walking, stompin’ really, deeper into the house, leaving the door wide open. “You can take yo’ happy ass right back down to that Juke Joint and tell ‘im I’m just fine. And tell that nigga to get comfortable down there while you at it, cause he anit comin back here. Run that errand.”

She entered her small kitchen, pacing back and forth to work out some of her energy. He’d been coming in after she’d already went to bed, rising before her eyes were open in the morning, and now he couldn’t be bothered to come out and check on her himself?

Stack didn’t go back to the Juke. Instead, he closed the door, shutting them off from the rain that was coming down harder than before – as if it sensed the river of emotion welling up in Annie – and followed behind her.

“Uh,” his voice paused Annies pacing. She turned her head sharply in his direction, eyebrow arched like she dared him to say somethin’ stupid. “Y’all havin a lil lovers spat or somethin’?”

“Or somethin’.” Her voice was flat. “I anit in the mood for you or yo brothers shit today. You can let yoself out.” It wasn’t Stack she was mad at. Not really. She loved Stack, not so much as a brother, but more so as an extension of Smoke. There wasn’t one without the other. Elijah wouldn’t be Elijah without Elias, and vice versa, so she’d made space for both men in her life when she committed to being with one. Right now though, she didn’t have space for either of them, especially Stacks childish ass.

“Now hol’ on,” he stepped further into the kitchen, voice light, lips tugging upwards like this was a game. “Why it gotta be all that? Big brotha’ fuckin’ up? What he do? Talk to Stacky Stack.” He pulled out a chair, plopping down and leaning back, spreading his legs wide like he had all the time in the world. Like Annie wasn’t spitting fire at him with her eyes.

“You think this funny Stack?” She stood directly in front of him, lips twisting up. “You anit bout to come up in here, treating me like I’m a joke, cause you a child stuck in a grown man’s body, and can’t take nothin’ serious. Now I told you to leave.”

His eyes got comically big, “Who said you was a joke??”

She’d opened her mouth to respond, stepping forward threateningly, and he quickly cut her off.

“Annie, swea’ fo’ God, I don’t think you a joke. I know better than that. My bad for playin’.” He raised his hands in surrender, dropping any smirk that’d lingered on his lips. “I just anit know y’all was fighting, is all. Anit like y’all.”

Annie considered him for a moment, and then sighed, shoulders losing their defensive edge, and feet starting to pace again.

“We ain’t fightin’,” she mumbled. “He gotta be around for us to fight.” She was talking moreso to herself, finally speaking the words that’d been tumbling ‘round in her brain the last few days. “Maybe I was mistakin’ thinkin’ we could pick up where we left off. Thinkin’ that spark was still there. Maybe things done changed too much. It gotta be that. Been waiting on him all this time, just for him to come back and treat me like this? It anit that much busy in the world.”

Annie huffed, shaking her head. “Maybe I just need to cut my losses. Go be wit’ somebody that wonna wake up to me in the morning at least.”

Those last words were spoken out of hurt, just her venting mostly, but Stack sat straight up, eyes narrowing on her with a seriousness that rivaled his brothers.

“What chu’ mean?”

Annie paused, blinking, and turning her head to face the younger twin like she’d just remembered he was there.

He was watching her, posture stiff, muscles tensed in his collared shirt like he didn’t plan to exhale til she answered.

Annie raised an eyebrow. She knew why he was looking like that, and she doubled down, purely out of spite.

“I meant what I said. Maybe I needa’ find somebody new. Put all this old shit behind me.”

There. Let him run back to the Juke and report that to Elijah.

Stack studied her for a beat and then slowly, much to her amusement, shook his head. Like she’d just asked him for permission to move on.

“Nah. We ain’t gone go and do that. The nigga been a lil busy – I’ll give you that. I’ll tell him start bringing his ass home earlier, but you know he love you. You anit gon’–”

“I anit gon’ what?” She cut him off, laughing. “Stack, I’ma grown ass woman and I’ma do whatever I please.”

Her laughter stopped. “Just like he do whatever he please.” The anger that’d been gripping her throat, let go, and the words came pouring out her mouth like lava. “The nigga like a ghost. After leaving me for all these years, he come back, and he like a ghost. Always at that damn Juke Joint, and wherever else he be. Ain’ never got time for me. For the woman that prayed over him every day while he was gone. For the woman that prayed over his brother.

“No. Its fuck me. And he anit even been doin’ that. So if I wonna be wit’ somebody who actually present – who don’t avoid me like I’m the klan – who wants to be around me, and talk to me, and touch me, I can do that and it anit a thang a Moore on this earth can do about it,” she looked pointedly at Stack. “Any Moore.”

A boom of thunder rang out, loud, and deep, and damn near shaking the little shack. It was warning them of the storms to come. Warning them that the rain wouldn’t be stopping no time soon, and that the Delta better get ready for a flood.

Neither party in the kitchen flinched at the sound. Their eyes remained locked, Annie’s chest rising and falling in anger, Stack still unmoving, still tense. He broke eye contact first, ‘hmming’ in the back of his throat, eyes darting to the floor before jumping back to hers. He nodded once, like he’d just made a decision, and then sat back in the chair, legs spreading wide again, shoulders dropping in that low easy way of his. He tilted his head back a little, let his eyelids drop slightly.

“C’mere.”

Annie blinked.

“Boy what?” His tone had dropped, voice low and thick and sweet – like honey. A tone that probably worked on every other woman in the Delta. Annie just looked at him like he was crazy.

“You heard me. C’mere.”

She stayed where she was, arms crossing, and eye brow raising in warning.

“Boy, if you don’t get up, go on somewhere, an’ stop playin’ wit me. I just told you, this anit a game.”

“You right, it anit.” He let his eyes roam her lazily, cocking his head a little as he traced over the swell of her chest, the curve of her hips, the softness of her stomach. He let her see that he was looking, even as her eyes narrowed dangerously at his gaze. “It anit a game at all Annie,” he was still talking low. “You plannin’ on gettin’ some random niggas killed, all cause you a lil mad right now and that ain’t right girl.”

Annie’s face screwed up.

“Cause I’m ma–”

He cut her off.

“You say Smoke anit takin’ care of business? I believe you. His drawers up his ass right now. The nigga done forgot what he got at home. That’s his bad. Lemme talk to ‘im. But you know anit gon’ be no other niggas Annie. Don’t even talk like that.

“You say you needa’ be listened to? Needa’ be touched? Needa’ work out some of that pressure? I’ll handle allat right now, but don’t make ’im – make us – put some nigga six feet deep cause you wonna act out.”

Her mouth parted, no words coming out, as she processed what he’d just said.

“Now, c’mere.” He jerked his head lazily, signaling for her to step forward.

The processing was done.

She laughed. Not meanly. Not angrily. Genuinely laughed for what felt like the first time in forever. The sound that bubbled up out of her throat wasn’t light and airy and polite. She was damn near wheezing, hunched over like he’d just told the joke of the decade. The sheer audacity of the Moore men – of men in general – needed to be studied. She didn’t even think Stack was playin’. She believed he was dead serious and that made her laugh harder, right there in the kitchen in front of his face, paying no mind to the way his lips started frowning up – to the way his eyes narrowed.

“What’s funny?”

She wiped at her eyes, standing up straight, and trying to get her shoulders to stop shaking.

“You Stack. You are what’s funny,” she looked him dead in the eyes, not phased by the look she saw on his face. She saw that same look on Smoke’s face all the time. The exact same look – literally. “You think you can ‘handle’ me and Smoke wouldn’t put you six feet deep? You think you, can tell me, what I can and cannot do? You think if I even let you touch me, you’d have the slightest idea of what to do wit’ all this?” She chortled. “Nigga please. Even if you did know what to do wit’ me, an’ you don’t, it anit gone fix what Smoke is doin’. You don’t know nothin’ bout this Stack.”

Stack shook his head.

“Anit ‘bout fixin’ what he doin’. It’s ‘bout makin’ sure you good, til he fix what he doin. Makin’ sure you don’t make us drop no bodies cause you anit thinkin’ straight.” He wasn’t laughing wit her. But he was smirking now. Leaned forward in the chair, elbows on his knees, hands hanging loosely. Even as his jaw jumped. He made himself focus on the other thing she’d said, letting that shit ‘bout not being able to handle her go unacknowledged. For now.

“You anit gotta worry bout me. This anit ‘bout me and Smoke anit puttin’ me six feet no where. Y’know it don’t work like that Annie. I am Smoke. Smoke is me. I’m bouta help my brother keep the best thing that ever happened to him. That ain’t the same as you havin’ some random nigga thinkin’ he can slide up in here and take what anit his.” He suddenly stood, and Annie instinctively took a step back, before remembering who she was and squaring her shoulders.

“Now, you gone c’mere’ or you gon’ make me come over there?”

Annie’s voice was more serious the next time she spoke.

“Stack..” she warned. “Enough of yo games. Go ‘on somewhere–”

He was up on her. Two long strides is all it took to close the distance between them and he had his chest pressed to her titties, stomach flush with hers, one arm locked tight around her waist, before she could even startle.

Annie’s arms instinctively went to push at him as she breathed,

“Stack what the– mmmm,”

Her own words trailed off, dying on her tongue, when his other hand gently, but swiftly, tilted her face, and his fat tongue hit her neck.

“Stop being ungrateful. I’m tryna’ look out.”

There was no hesitation as he tongued her neck, and Annie’s brain clouded for a moment when he tongued at a particular spot, sucking gently and then harder, when he realized what he’d found on the first try.

She wasn’t laughing, or sassing him, now. Now, she was being reminded of just how long it’d been since she’d had a man wrapped around her like this. Being reminded of how good it felt. She almost titled her head back to give Stack more room to work, fingers instinctively clenching at the fabric of his shirt – before she remembered this was indeed, Stack sucking on her neck like he had every right and all the time in the world.

She resumed pushing at the solid frame in front of her.

“Stack, c’mon now. Stop, hmm, stop playin’.”

He gave one last hard suck on her spot, before pulling his head back to look at her. She was trying to look stern, lips pressed in a firm line, eyebrows furrowed. But them eyes – them big brown eyes, told it all. His gold caps glinted, hand rubbing at her lower back, right above where all that ass she had on her sat.

“Who playin?” He licked his lips like he could still taste her skin. “Told you, I’m helpin’. You needa be touched?” His hands were suddenly gripping at her dress, pulling at the blue layers, raising the fabric. “I got chu’ Annie. You anit gotta get niggas killed cause you need some lovin’. I’ll get that anger worked out of ya.”

Her hands dropped from his chest, down to her dress, pushing the fabric back down whenever he went to pull it up. Once. Twice. Thrice. His movements were lazy, consistent but unrushed, his deep brown eyes glittering with amusement and the beginning sparks of lust. Annie on the other hand, was fighting for her life.

“Stack, I will put a root on yo’ ass!” The threat didn’t have the intended affect, cause her pupils were blown just a little too wide, nipples poking at her dress just a little to pointedly, voice coming out just a little too breathless. She couldn’t let him get that dress up. One, cause it was Stack and two, cause–

“Gahhh damn. This pussy always dripping like this, or that’s just cause of me?” Between their dance of pushing her dress up and down, one of his slick hands had managed to get underneath the fabric. He anit even waste time toying wit’ her, smoothly working his fingers into her drawers and between her fat, soft lips. Annie gasped, brain short circuiting for a moment as his thick digits slid up and down her vulva, not aiming for anything in particular just yet. Just feelin’ all that wet. Stack smirked sharply.

“Why y’all women do that? This pussy needy as hell, and you tryna deny her. Mm, mm, mm,” his fingers fluttered over her hole and then slid right back up. Up and down, up and down. “This shit don’ even make no sense. I barely touched you.” He shook his head like it was a shame.

“Yeah, Smoke fuckin’ up. You got every right to be mad girl. Wet ass pussy like this, you needa’ be taken care of every day. Shit.” The rain falling outside was no match to the fuckin’ tsunami he had his fingers sliding through right now. Stack wanted all that wet in his mouth. Around his fingers. Around his dick. When he got back to the Juke, he and Smoke was gon’ have words, cause that nigga was trippin’, letting all this slip through his fingers.

Annie’s breath stuttered when his fingers just barely brushed her button, and then left it alone. Like he was teasing her. She choked back a noise that was rising in her throat at the loss, letting go of the useless hold she had on her dress and gripping his wrist instead. She just held it, like she didn’t know whether to pull his hand away or push it back upwards, under her hood where her clit had started to poke. While she contemplated, Stack’s fingers still leisurely explored. He felt her soft curls, her softer lips, that hard clit he was purposefully avoiding, and his mouth watered. Slowly, he worked his fingers back down, ignoring the way her hand tightened on his wrist and positioning his thick digits at her entrance.

“Stack, shit, Elias wait,” At the sound of his real name, Stack paused, eyes jumping back up to meet hers. Annie’s lips were parted, eyes low but still sharp, still working, like she was deciding on something.

“What? You really ain’ bout to let me give this pussy what she want?” He asked, the playful edge in his voice not really that playful.

They both felt the way her little hole had started twitching, like it could sense something wanted to enter and was glad to let it in. There was no denyin’ the juices that were running over his fingers and sticking to her thick thighs – no denyin’ the heady scent of her pussy that rested in the air between them, warm and spicy and enticing.

Annie studied him. Face so much like Elijah’s, but so different – much like their personalities. She bit her lip, turned something over in her head, shook a memory from the past away and then made her decision.

“If we do this, and you don’t leave this pussy ruined, you will walk outta here with a root on you.” And she halfway meant it.

This wasn’t ‘bout Smoke, or whatever the hell was wrong wit’ him. Wasn’t ‘bout the past, or even Stack really. This was ‘bout Annie getting hers. After the way she’d been feelin’? She deserved.

Stack’s head cocked, teeth flashing like a shark who’d just caught the scent of blood. His eyes shined mischievously, a “Be careful what you ask for,” dropping from his lips, like a promise and a warning, right before two thick digits buried themselves to the hilt in Annie’s soft channel.

Her head fell back immediately, a whimpering, “Oh fuck,” falling from her lips. He was stretchin’ her, that tight pussy of hers locking down on his fingers like it was trying to stop the intrusion and make sure it never left at the same time.

“Mmmm,” Stack kissed at the column of her throat, trying to pull his fingers out a little and smirking when he couldn’t. “You gotta lighten up. Let me work.”

Annie wasn’t tryna hear that.

“Either you know how to break in tight pussy, or you don’t.”

Stack had her laid flat on her kitchen table before she could exhale. Annie gasped, doe eyes bugging impossibly wider as she looked up at Stack.

He’d yanked his fingers out of her heat, turned her big fine ass around, and laid her out like a Sunday dinner after church.

“‘Thas’ like the third time you done talked to me like that. Like cause I’m tha’ lil brother, I’m a lil nigga.” He forced her legs open, forced her dress up and out his way, eyeing the damn near translucent gusset of her underwear. “Promise yah Annie, that’ll be tha’ last time you do that.”

He ripped her drawers off her like they were made of paper, and before Annie could even hiss at the stingin’ feeling it’d left on her thighs, Stack was on his knees, fingers buried back in her tight heat, and tongue deep between her lips. He damn near put his whole face in the pussy and Annie’s hips shot up instinctively, running from that good feeling he suddenly had thrumming through her body. Stack wasn’t trippin’, he just followed. Like a dog with a bone. Flattening his wide tongue and licking through her sticky wetness long and slow, like he was gathering as much of her juice as he could on the way up to her clit.

And when he got there?

It was like music to his ears – mo’ beautiful than the blues even – the way she moaned his name.

“Stack, oh my God.”

It’d been so long since she had somebody on that spot.

Stack locked his lips around her bud, eyes peering up at them big heaving titties and that pretty face he could barely see, as he circled his tongue clockwise, then counterclockwise, and back again around her bundle of her nerves. Her mouth was dropped open but her pussy was like a vice around his fat fingers, and this time he anit say nothin’ bout her needing to lighten up. He just forced her open. Just broke her in. He worked his fingers in and out of her gushy walls, fighting back against the tight snap of her hole over and over again.

“Hmm, oh shiit.” Her eyes closed on their own accord, hands scratching at the table like she was looking for something to ground her. It felt like her pussy was alive the way it was pulsing – the way it was crying. Annie didn’t even know what to do with all the good she was feeling. Hadn’t expected to be seein’ stars like this. For as much as Stack played, he was takin’ this serious. Lapping at her clit like he was scared it would disappear, like he was delirious for her pussy, jaw be damned. On and on it went, licking all the way down to where his fingers were buried. Licking all the way back up to that special spot, and giving it the attention it was askin fo’.

He let his teeth graze her button and Annie keened, hips finally dropping back on the table with a thud.

“Fuck, Stack. Do that again.” It was just on the right side of too much. Toeing that line of pleasure and pain that made everything go fuzzy.

He soothed her clit with his fat tongue, and for once, followed orders. Let his teeth, gold caps and all, graze her bundle of nerves again. And again. And again. Always soothing her in between. Always working his fingers in and out of her center, groaning into the pussy as her juices took over his senses.

She matched him, groaning louder, hand finding the top of his head, as her hips rose again. Not running. But using.

“Eat that fuckin pussy Stack. Eat that gushy fuckin pussy. This what I deserve.”

She anit have to be on his face to ride his tongue. She was guiding him, movin’ his head where she wanted, hips rolling slow as they raised up, then dropping back down fast, lovin’ the way her fat clit felt against his tongue.

“Ouuu, Stack.” She spit his name out, teeth clenched so hard that if she wasn’t careful, she’d break one.

“Why are you eating it like that, fuck.”

Stack fought the hold she had on his head, raising his face up for a second. His twinkling brown eyes looked dark as tar now. His facial hair dripping wit’ her essence. His voice guttural when he said,

“Cause this how good pussy deserve to be eaten Annie.”

And then he was back in it. Tongue hitting every spot she had down there. Fingers twisting up inside of her like he was searching for something hidden. Annie’s eyes rolled, body falling back on to the table for good as Stack thrummed her clit with his tongue like he was playin’ guitar.

She was starting to feel achy down there. In a way that had her pushin’ at his head for him to stop, when what she really needed was for him to keep goin’. And he knew that. Stack brought his free hand up, locking his fingers with hers and keeping her out his way.

Another boom of thunder sounded outside. Still warning of that flood that would surely be comin’ soon.

“Stack. S-stack. You eating it too good. I can’t - I can’t–”

But she would.

Stack lathered her clit in his spit. Pushed his fingers back inside her. Held ‘em there. Angled ‘em down. And then told all that sweet cream to come on, fingers curling up in a come hither motion.

And Annie?

Annie almost crossed to the other side before it was her time.

She screamed, big thighs clamping around his head, stomach tightening viciously for a second and then completely deflating as her pussy gushed, releasing all that pint up juice she’d been holding.

Stack let her smother him. He anit care. He’d die in the pussy, right between ha’ thick ass thighs if he had to. Long as she got what she needed. Long as it put her head back on straight. Smoke always cleaned up Stack’s messes, Stack was committed to returning the favor.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Stack!”

Annie flooded his mouth.

Stack drunk it all.

Big tongue slurping at her nectar, trying to get up in her hole and get it from the source. He was greedy. And that trait remained firmly intact whether he was chasing money, or eating pussy.

Annie banged her hands on the table, hips turning every which way as Stack sucked her through her orgasm.

Words fell from her mouth in a language he didn’t understand. He anit have to understand it though, to know she was sayin’ she felt good.

By the time she was pushing at his head again, her sensitive center actually needed a break. The pussy was quiverin’, it was so overwhelmed. He obliged, pulling his face from between her thighs, lickin’ his lips and shakin’ his head like he hadn’t gotten enough of her.

“Could bottle that shit and sell it girl. Fuck some herbs,” Stack flexed his jaw as he stood and stepped back, lookin’ down where she laid splayed out on the table.

His dick was past solid. Hard like his head. And lookin’ at her, dress halfway up her stomach, legs spread wide and still trembling, rich dark skin that he now knew for a fact tasted as sweet as it looked – he was ready to give her what she really needed. Somethin’ to really work that anger out of her, till Smoke got his fuckin’ head on straight. His hands went to his slacks.

Annie was still tryin’ to catch her breath, eyes still screwed shut, body still in another dimension. That was the type of mouth you did put a root on – just to keep it comin’ back. The tension she had been carryin’ in her body all day – all month damn near, had leaked right out of her body with the rest of the liquid she’d gushed out. Annie felt her lips tug up, head still far in the clouds and body still mostly mush.

“Guess you don’t got that big ass mouth for no reason,” she teased.

Stack let out a bark of laughter and she cracked her eyes open.

“I anit got this big ass dick for no reason neither.”

Annie managed to prop herself up on her elbows, eyes dropping from Stack’s smirking face, down to the long thick dick he held in his hands. Annie blinked, her center clenching, like she hadn’t just came five seconds ago. She watched as Stack stroked himself, from root to tip, pearly white drops beading at his mushroom head. Pretty dick for a pretty nigga. She bit her lip, eyes jumping back to his face.

He smirked, but it wasn’t playful. It was salacious. It made her center clench again.

He stepped forward.

“Before I give you this,” he stroked his dick, “I wonna’ say sorry.”

Annie’s brows furrowed.

“Nigga left all them years ago cause I convinced him to go.”

Annie felt her high fading fast.

“Stack, I don’t want to–”

“Nah, lemme talk Annie,” he cut her off, taking his last step forward, lettin’ go of himself in favor of grippin’ her hips – pulling them closer to the edge of the table.

Annie choked in surprise, gasping when Stack’s big hands went to the back of her thighs next, putting them in the air and making her legs fold in on themselves. She felt her pussy spread open, like a flower blossomin’, cause of the new position.

“Stack -”

“Maybe if we wouldn’t of never left, the nigga wouldn’t be actin’ so stupid right now. Shit wouldn’t be strained ‘tween y’all. He feelin’ like he don’t deserve yo forgiveness. Wouldn’t be nun’ to forgive, if he wouldn’t of never left wit’ me.”

Annie disagreed. But she wasn’t ‘bout to talk about it right now.

“Stack -”

He slapped his heavy dick down on all that wet, right between where her nether lips had spread, and both of their eyes fluttered. The next time he spoke, his teeth were clenched.

“I’m bouta fuck yah so good you forgive both a’ us,” his accent wrapped thickly around his words, like feeling all that gush against his dick was makin’ him lose it. “Bouta fuck yah so good, you forget all that hurt you was feelin’. Fuck yah so good, you know he sorry, befo’ he even say it. Fuck yah so good you know I’m sorry.”

Annie was tryin’ to focus on his words, tryin’ to hold his gaze, but he’d started moving his hips as he spoke, sliding his member up and down between her soft folds, nudging her clit with his big head on every pass. Her eyes fluttered again, head dropping, a low “Ouuu”, slipping past her lips.

Stack watched her for a beat, sliding his dick through the mess she was making, once. Twice. Three times more.

“We so sorry mama.”

And then he slid in deep.

Thunder clapped outside.

Annie’s breath left her body, fluttering eyes flying right back open, soft brown orbs gazing up at him like he’d just taken something from her. He bit back a curse, throat working as her tight heat enveloped him. Smoke was fuckin’ crazy.

Stack gripped at her pillowy thighs – could already tell he was gone be the one that had to keep ‘em in the air – and let his signature smirk take over his face.

“Now what was that you said earlier? Bout how I anit know what to do wit all this? Wit’ you?” He tilted his head like he was thinking.

“Stack..” Annie breathed, trying to sound stern through her panting. “Don’t go doing too much no-”

“Let’s test that out, Annie. See if you know me, as well as you know magic?”

He slid out slow, all the way to the tip, making her feel every inch of what was stretching her wide. Annie’s toes flexed in her boots. They weren’t even undressed. She anit have to be naked for Stack to give her what she needed though. And Annie was ‘bout to get exactly that.

“Sorry ‘bout this too,” he said, shrugging, eyes squinting playfully. “Cause you gon’ feel this shit.”

Any quick witted response was derailed as a yelp tore from her throat instead.

Stack had his pelvis pressed firmly against hers, every inch of that dick buried back inside her heat before she could blink.

Deep.

He was so deep.

She could feel him in her chest where that annoyance had set. Could feel him under her skin, all over, where that irritation had thrummed. Could feel him everywhere, he was so deep.

Stack slid out, slowly like she was somethin’ precious. And then he slammed right back inside, thick length hitting every wall, every corner, every hidden spot in her pussy. And then he did it again. And again.

Annie’s mouth formed a round O, hands clutching at her dress, thighs trembling in his hold. Stack wasn’t even giving her time to adjust. And it hurt so good.

He trailed his eyes over her open mouth, her shaking hands. Snapped his hips forward harder.

“What’s wrong wit’ chu? This what you wanted right? What you needed? What you was ‘bout to run off on my brother to get?”

His fingers hadn’t done a damn thing to loosen her up. He had to bully her pussy open over and over again, had to force all that tight, to stretch. It was like it couldn’t make up its mind – the way the pussy was leaking every where, hugging him like it never wanted him to leave one second, and then fighting him the next, tight hole locking back up every time he slid out to the head.

“Oh my – ugh Stack!” She said his name like she was mad at him. If that was the case, she was only ‘bout to get madder.

His narrow hips worked, pure bliss coursing through his body as he felt all that good surround his dick. All that slippery nectar. Them gushy walls. He changed his angle a lil bit, and then his eyes narrowed – jaw jumped, when Annie fought his hold on her thighs. Not to run. But to spread her legs wider.

He was moving in her easier now, all that liquid she was leaking making it possible for him to slide in and out as he pleased. Annie was adjusting. Annie was feeling – none of the bad from this morning. This week. This month. No, Annie was feeling good and Annie was just getting started.

He’d stroked inside her again, new angle hitting a spot, deep and hidden and one she could never reach on her own. One that had her slamming her feet down on the table, spreading her thighs wide, licking her full lips.

“Again! Do that agai- ugh yesssss!”

Stack leaned forward, hands coming down on the table on either side of her frame, gold making an appearance when he smirked down at her.

“Do what again? This? Do this again?”

He pulled out, immediately thrusting his hips forward into that soft spot she was talkin’ ‘bout. What felt like raw electricity shot through Annie’s body at the movement.

“Yesssss, that’s what the fuck I’m talking ‘bout. That’s what I need.”

Stack obliged. Hips moving like the pussy was running away from him. In and out. Always going deep. Always hitting that spot. He watched her closely, lip tucked between his teeth. Tracked the little gasps that left her mouth every time he drove into her. The way her brows furrowed. The way her eyes fluttered. The way she fought to open them back up every time, meeting his stare head on.

“Ouuuu Stack – my God!”

Outside the rain kept comin’. In sheets. In droves. Weighing down the branches of trees. Turning dirt into mud. Creatin’ puddles now – and much worse later. Water was needed. To nourish, to clean, to grow. But the rain? The rain was an inconvenience. And it anit care. Still kept comin’. Pitter pattering against the windows. Falling from the sky. Unrelenting. Unforgiving. The Delta would just have to deal.

Outside lighting flashed. Outside thunder roared.

Inside?

Inside, Annie cursed. And Stack cursed back.

“Fuck! Fuck this pussy! Fuck this pussy just like that! Don’ stop, Stack.”

He grunted, talked right over the loud squelching noises that filled the room, “I anit stoppin’. I’m in this shit. Who can’t handle you? I’m in this shit, girl!”

Annie’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, hips raising to meet his like he wasn’t droppin’ the dick fast enough, “Ouuuu, give me that dick Stack. Give it to me! I wonna feel it in my stomach. I feel it in my stomach!”

Stack swiveled his hips while he was still buried deep, stirring all that wet. All that juice that was dripping down his dick. “I’m fuckin’ you good? Fuckin’ you how I said I would?”

Her pussy pulsed in agreement with her, “Ouuu yes, yes, yes. You fuckin’ me so good, don’t stop.”

Stack went from holding himself up by his hands, down to his elbows, getting closer, boxing her in. His lips found that spot on her neck, sucking hard. Mouth came up to her ear, talkin’ shit.

“Ain’ gon stop. Sayin’ sorry remember? Gotta fuck this good wet ass pussy tell she forgive me.”

Annie moaned, hands coming up to grip at his strong arms. “She say she anit gone never forgive you. You gotta keep fuckin me, keep fuckin me, oh my god, Stack. I feel it!”

Stack wanted to laugh at her words. Couldn’t. Cause he felt it too. The way that pussy was tightening up, getting impossibly wetter, jumping around his dick like it couldn’t wait to release something it’d been holding back.

He swiveled his hips. Stroked her from root to tip and back again at an impossible speed. Fuckin’ into her like he had a point to prove. Like he had a relationship to save. Annie scratched at his arms, then rubbed, like she was soothing the sting.

He clenched his jaw, feeling her pussy jump again, feeling that tight hole get tighter, “Pussy must be magick. You put some magick in this pussy girl? Huh? This fat pussy got some mutha fuckin magick in it?”

Annie couldn’t speak. All she could do was whimper. Grip his arms tighter. Leak all over him. Brace herself for what she felt building inside of her. For what she felt about to snap loose.

Stack pulled out, then slammed in, making Annie cry out in ecstasy. He gritted his teeth. Felt his balls start to tighten.

“All ‘dem years ago, sayin’ you anit want both uh’ us,”

He pulled out, then slammed in.

“This make me think yah was lyin’ Annie.”

Pulled out, then slammed in.

“Cause the way this pussy talkin?”

Pulled out, then slammed in.

“Pussy sayin’ you shoulda been let me in.”

He brought his face right above hers, roamed his eyes over all that pretty. All that strength. All that perfect.

He pulled out again.

“Pussy sayin’ she ‘ont ever want me leave Annie!”

Then slammed in.

Annie shattered. And Stack stilled, mushroom head pressed right into that gushy spot, unmoving, even as the rush of liquid that erupted from her pussy tried to force him out.

“Oh my – Oh my – Elias – STACKKKK!”

She wasn’t cumming. She was flooding. Pussy raining down on Stack, not unlike the rain outside.

Pleasure. That’s what she felt. So consuming it ran from the ends of her hair to the tips of her toes. It overwhelmed her. Annie ran for the first time, thighs trying to snap close, hips trying to jerk back, trying to get him to lay off that spot before she passed out.

Stack anit care. Stayed on her. Stayed pressed into her even as his knees went a little weak at the feel of her walls choking his length. Her wet surrounding him.

“Stop runnin’ from what you need,” he slid his arm between them, forced one thigh back open. “Jus’ take it. Get all that bad energy up out ya’.”

Annie didn’t have no choice. She came tell her ears were ringing, tell her breath left her body, tell she didn’t even know what bad energy he was talking ‘bout.

And Stack watched, head tilting almost in wander, eyes raking over her face like he’d never seen a prettier picture. His dick jerked just lookin’ at her, and his eyes snapped shut, willing himself not to nut.

Annie was trying to get air back into her lungs, walls squeezing around Stack again – not on purpose, just on instinct, and it was enough to make him lose it.

“Shit,” he cursed, eyes still closed tight like that was the only thing keeping him sane. “You good if I move?”

She blamed him. For how good he’d just made her feel. Blamed Smoke. For how long it’d been since he’d touched her. Blamed them both for what came out her mouth next, eyes cracking open slowly, voice coming out breathy, taunting.

“You good if you move? Look tense. Can’t handle a little pussy? The little brother got little stamina?”

His eyes flew open. Shock and indignation both clouding those dark orbs. He’d just fucked life back into her. They both knew it. And still Annie pushed. Because if he could give it? She wanted more. Honestly, who knew when she’d get loved down like this again? She was bein’ greedy, takin’ as much as she could while it was offered. She deserved to be greedy.

Stack blinked above her, less focused on his urge to cum now, and more surprised by how much of a brat Annie was being. He’d never pegged her as that. Stack shook his head. Hell, maybe she normally wasn’t, but knowin’ how Smoke was actin’, it’d probably been good and long since she had the attitude fucked outta her.

He watched her, watch him, and saw that gleam in her eyes. Like she couldn’t wait for his response – like she was hungry for it.

“You got a greedy pussy Annie,” he pushed himself up, stood upright again between her spread thighs.

So greedy you really need two niggas takin’ care of you on the regular.

Stack forced that thought out his head. Cause this shit wasn’t ‘bout him. It was ‘bout her and his dumbass brother.

“You wanted more? Jus’ say that. Ain’ gotta hurt a nigga feelings. You know I’m sensitive, girl.” His tone was light. Too light.

“You want more? Say it.” Their eyes met, his prompting hers to speak, refusing to move until she did.

She opened her mouth to do just that, to tell him what she wanted and how she wanted it.

Stack never gave her the chance. Sliding out and proceeding to show her just how long his stamina could really be.

They weren’t working out Annie’s built up pressure anymore. That had already been done. Now, they were just fucking. Rough, and nasty, and loud. The table was shaking, their voices were cracking, and the storm outside didn’t have shit on what was brewing between them.

One second he had her by the hips, had the lower half of her body damn near in the air and was pulling that pussy up to him every time he fucked into her.

“Pussy so fuckin’ good. This what you wanted? You gone take it then. Gone take all this dick tell yo’ ass can’t walk straight!”

The next, she was flat on the table, moaning filth in his ear while he pressed his weight into her, digging deep in her guts.

“Ouuuu I love that dick Elias. Love the way you fucking this pussy. You love this pussy? This pussy good?”

They went back and forth. She matched him stroke for stroke, word for word, pushing when he pulled and pulling when he pushed.

Strings of cream clung to his dick, pooled at his base. Her pussy was loud, talking like it wanted to join the conversation. He was fucking the love and light back into her. She was making him lose his goddamn mind.

By the time they were approaching their peaks, they were nose to nose, bodies moving like they had a mind of their own. Annie’s hands gripping at his back, his arms, everywhere she could reach – eyes squeezed tight in bliss. Stack cupped her face, forced his brown orbs to stay open, to stay locked on her, as he panted in time with her breaths.

The rain kept coming down outside. Fast, and loud, and dangerous.

“I’m bout to cum Elias! Stack I’m bout to - it feel like so much – Elias!”

“I feel it girl, I feel it – fuck! Me too, Annie, fuck!”

If he wasn’t pinning her down, she would have levitated.

If she was his, he would have shot his seed as deep as he could. Woulda hoped it took.

They came in unison, the tension in their bodies snapping. Annie cried out loudly, core clamping down, rivers of that essence that made both Moore men crazy, pouring out of her sweet center. Stack cursed, yanking his hips out and up just in time, cumming so hard he would have collapsed if he wasn’t already damn near laid flat on top of her. His eyes shut on their own accord, stars appearing behind his closed lids.

“Shit Annie!”

Rain was funny sometimes. It could choose to wreck havoc – cause floods, displace homes, come down long enough and hard enough to drown entire communities if it so pleased. And…it could also choose to storm a little and then stop. Outside, the downpour lightened to a drizzle, seemingly out of nowhere. Inconsistent drops – light, unrushed, harmless. There would be some mess to clean up – the rain never left anything completely in tact – but it seemed the Delta had lucked out this time. The damage wouldn’t be irreparable.

Inside Annie’s kitchen?

There were no guarantees of such luck.

The two caught their breath, gradually coming down from the peak they’d reached. And Elias felt wrong. Hot. Itchy. Like he was too big for his clothes. He frowned a little, not liking the discomfort. Not understandin’ where it was comin’ from.

He opened his eyes. Damn near lost his breath again when he was faced with Annie’s searching gaze. Neither spoke. Until she did.

“‘Lias?”

He swallowed. Didn’t really know what was being asked. Knew and just didn’t know how to answer. How she wanted him to respond. Elias felt like a boy again. Elias felt like he wanted to fall into Annie and get the fuck away from her at the same time. Elias remembered his brother, remembered that he’d done this for him. For them – Smoke and Annie.

Stack is who responded to her, smirk on his lips, eyes squinting, gold caps shining.

“Annie.” He tilted his head playfully, made his tone light, kept it light, even when her eyes narrowed. “Surprised you can still talk. I worked all that attitude out huh?” He laughed. “I know I did. Now you and that big head nigga can work y’all shit out – no outside parties needed, girl.”

“Elias–”

“And you anit gotta thank me, it was my pleasure, trust.” Stack winked. “Now lemme clean you up so I can get back down to this juke and talk to this nigga.” He let his dimple pop, ignored the look in her brown eyes. “Wouldn’t want all this to be for nothin’ right?”

Annie watched him. For so long he damn near broke out into a sweat. And then she nodded. Slow. Reluctant. But she gave it to him. Let him run. “Right. Wouldn’t want this to be for nothing.” His dimple popped harder, smirk grew wider. Too wide. Forced. Uncomfortable.

He let his eyes scan her face one more time - quick but thorough.

Nodded to himself. To her.

“Right.”

♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎

So, Hi again! Omg y’all - that poor table. Lol if you made it to the end, I hope you enjoyedddd! Not gone lie, this was supposed to end on a much lighter note. And then, it just didn’t lol. I had a lot of fun exploring this and figuring out a circumstance where Annie and Stack would happen though, especially with Smoke on the same earth, anddd this what I came up with. Anyways, don’t know if I’ll be writing anything else. I would like to, cause this was fun, but I’m not gone force it. I just had to get this out my head before I went crazy! Let me know what you think if you feel so inclinedddd 🫶🏾🧡

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nerdyscouttribute · 24 days ago

Text

First Look (Modern Au Smoke x Annie)

Summary:Smoke see's Annie for the first time at the club

Warning: none ,just something cute and short

An: I might come back and add more to this ,but I just wanted to get it out my mind, so it's a little rushed. I got the idea from @partylikemajima

“Man, why you brought me here?”Smoke said. Irritation was written all over his face,as Stack was dragging him through the loud club. Lights flashing everywhere, people skin to skin dancing, drinks in hand. Music blasting through the speakers.

We said now drop it like a thottie, pop it like a thottie

Church girls acting loose, bad girls acting snotty

Let it go, girl-let it out, girl

“You too damn stuck up,need to get you a girl to dance with”, Stack said , a wide smile on his face.

Before Smoke could say anything back Stack said"I'm about to talk with a few people I see, I'll be back”. Walking off leaving an irritated Smoke standing in the middle of the club.

If he was going to make it through the night, he needed some liquor in his system. Fighting through the crowd to get to the bar. “Aye get me old fashioned”, Smoke said to the bartender.

He hated environments like this. Too loud , and too musty. Seeing the bartender set his drink down , he passed her the money ,and turned to look over the club.

Surveying the area, looking for exits -incase shit popped off. That's when his eyes froze on her . She was in a white corset that put her breast in the perfect view. A brown skirt that hugged her in all the right places.

She was dancing in the middle of her friends. Bending over as they hyped her up. Smoke was too caught up in staring at her that he didn't notice Stack standing next to him.

“Damn, you staring hard nigga”, Stack said laughing , snapping Smoke out of his trance.

“Nah just looking”, Smoke said , but it wasn't true. He wanted to know more about her , what her name is , maybe if it sounded good with his last name.

“ oh so you wouldn't mind if I went to talk to her”, A sly smirk set on Stacks face. Smoke shot a glare towards Stack,” Nah, don't go bothering her”.

But that went to deaf ears ,as Stack still made his way towards her.

———————————

Annie was having fun for the first time in a while. She was stressed with running her restaurant, she hadn't taken time to hang out with her friends. So when they called ,she answered,no questions asked.

She had few drinks in her , cause that was the only way her friends were going to get her to dance like this. Her hips moving wild , ass moving right along with every movement.

Until , he walked up trying to get her attention. She was trying to ignore him , but her friends weren't trying to do the same. “ What you want”, Grace said ,raising her eyebrow at Stack. “I wanted to know if your friend right there wanted to dance with my brother “, Stack said as he pointed at Annie. She didn't even get a chance to answer for herself when Pearline spoke up,”what does he look like”? “ Just like me ,but I'm cuter” , Stack said with a smirk on his face.

“ Mmm-go get him”, Mary said, eyeing Stack up and down. Stack said he'll be back , before running off. Annie spoke, reminding them she had a voice, “ how y'all gonna decide for me “.

“Girl you need to get you some ,and he might just be right for the job”, Pearline said.

—————————————

Smoke watched the whole thing. How she didn't speak ,but observed. Stack ran back over to him , once again a big smile set on his face. “If she says no you got three other girls to choose from”, Stack said trying to convince Smoke to follow him. Smoke didn't agree with that statement ,but he followed anyway .

Making it to where the girls were standing ,he kept his eyes zoned in on her , the one whose hair was pulled out her face. Letting him get a view of her big brown eyes, pouty lips,as she stared back at him.

Stack talked first as always, “ This my brother Smoke”. All the girls introduced themselves to him , saying their name . That's when she walked up. Gold heels adorning her feet. Making her eye level with him. When she spoke Elijah thought the time froze. “ I'm Annie , what's your name”, she said in a soft voice. It sounded so sultry to Smoke.

He didn't know how she did it ,but she got him to reveal his birth name with only one sentence. “Elijah”, he said almost breathless.

“We'll you wanna dance Elijah, this my favorite song”, Annie said head tilted to the side. He didn't respond, just held his hand out for her to take.

He forgot about everyone else, just wanted to have her near him.

So this must be something special

'Cause you could be anywhere you wanted

But you decided to be here with me

No coincidence, it was meant to be

Don't be shy, come let your boy get in

So you can tell all of your friends

Annie turned around in his arms. Swaying back and forth. His arms gripping around her waist, a bit tighter. Moving side to side with her.

Annie tilted her head back on his shoulder, breath hitting his neck. It made Elijah shudder, grabbing her hip bringing them even closer.

She knew what she was doing, and she wanted him to loosen up. Grinding back on him harder, left arm reaching back to grip the back of his neck to lean down. He allowed her to bring his head down into her neck.

Lips hitting her soft brown skin. Leaving soft kisses until he got near her ear. “You know you can capture someone's attention in a crowded room”?. A smile appeared on her face. Lifting her head up to turn around in his arms.

Arms now resting on his shoulders, his arms resting around her waist. “No I didn't know that, I just came to have fun with my girlfriends”.

“Well I'm sorry for my brother, for interrupting yall night”, Smoke said. He wasn't really sorry, he was glad his brother had the courage to do what he couldn't . “It's alright I want to get to know you more Elijah”.

#sinners 2025 #wunmi mosaku #annie and smoke #elijah and annie #sinners #michael b jordan #stack and mary #black writers #sinners fanfiction #Spotify

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nerdyscouttribute · 26 days ago

Text

The idea, is that there will be a time skip. Like relationship now out ,and wayyy more serious. Might add slight drama, or might keep it light and cute. Not totally sure atm.

Just Friends (Wunmi x Michael

Summary:Wunmi and Michael confess their feelings to each other

Warning: none, this is fluff with a slight mention of something sexual, but it's literally nothing

An:I didn't proff read this,maybe later I will. I forgot she was British while writing ,so imagine her voice how you like. I don't know when part 2 will be out,but hopefully soon. Play the song below , when the story mentions it. Enjoy!

Michael and Wunmi walked back to their trailers side by side after filming their characters' love scene. Standing in front of Michael’s trailer Wunmi stops and turns to him,”did you mean to grab my hand”,she says ,her voice very soft. Stunned by the question Michael answers saying,”I didn't even know your hand was gonna be there ,I was just going with a feeling”. “Yeah me too”, Wunmi says, stepping back a little towards her trailer.

Before she could make it up the stairs to the door , Michael's voice cuts through the air,” You wanna chill in here a bit ,before we have to start filming again”, his door now pushed halfway open. With hesitation clouding her face she finally nods. Walking up the steps passing him through the door- her ass rubbing against him. Michael clenching his teeth feeling her rub against him, the feeling so familiar. Thinking back to the scene they just filmed;his sweats start to feel tighter.

Now settled on the couch, Wunmi looks up at Michael standing still at the door. With a curious smile grazing her lip she says,” Are you just gonna stand there until they call us back”. Snapping Michael out of his daydreaming; stepping in ,closing the door behind him. Putting his hands in front of him trying to cover up his situation.

Without a beat Wunmi notices; her hand going to cover the smirk that was now on her face.

“You want something to drink”, Michael says still trying to hide his hard on. Wunmi nods her head saying sure. Michael walks over to the couch with Two water bottles in hand

“So what you invited me in here for”, Wunmi asks, grabbing the water of his hand. “I just wanted to see where your head is”. Michael didn't know it but that was a loaded question for Wunmi. She felt like everything was moving fast. From the audition to now, sitting by her co-star and feeling things she shouldn't feel.

Taking a deep breath before talking she answers,"I'm just taking things in, I feel like things are moving faster than I keep up with”. Michael nodded, staring a hole into the side of her face. He sat the water bottle down in front of him, reaching over to grab her hand in his. Grabbing Wunmi's chin , turning her to look into his eyes as he spoke these words. “ You don't have to say this- I'm not this , I'm not that. Wunmi you are fucking everything”.”I'm not sure if you notice, but people admire you. They feel your heart,because you lead with it, your eyes are kind and your spirit is warm,and just for the small time we've been around each other ,I feel safe anytime you're in a room”, Michael says.

Now, looking just staring at Wunmi, hoping she heard his words and believed him. Noticing tears swelling at the corner of eyes, he reaches his hand out , wiping them away before they get to hit her face. “ I didn't say that for you to get emotional, but to tell you that you're seen , for your talent and effort,and a damn good effort it is,” Michael says with a smile on his face. It slowly wipes away as he notices Wunmi still not saying anything,” Are you o-”, Wunmi cuts him off placing her hand at the back of his neck bringing him in for a kiss.

Shocked, Michael pulled back from her hold, before their lips could touch. Bringing Wunmi out of the trance she realized what she did. Shooting out her seat-water bottle long forgotten, sputtering a bunch of apologies making her way to the door. Before she could grab the handle, Michael reached out to her hand. When he grabbed it, the feeling of when they were in that cabin shot through him. Without thinking he turned Wunmi around , his hands cupping her face , slamming his lips on to hers.

Sitting there ,still.

Until, she moved her lips against his. Hands falling from her face to her waist, her hands moving to his shoulders-hands curling in his hair. The longer it goes on the messier it gets. Tongue plunging into each other's mouths. Moans bouncing off the walls of the trailer. Michael felt like he couldn't get enough of her. He wanted to live in her presence. Without a second thought, he grips Wunmi on the back of her thighs, lifting her legs around his waist. Pulling a gasp out of her,” Wait Michael you sure you got me”, She says unsure of his actions. “I always got you”, Michael says, bringing his lips back down to hers.

Tongue going deeper. Michael started making his way to the couch with Wunmi in his arms. Sitting down never stopping what he was doing. Leaving kisses down her neck, her fingers gripping his shoulders, as she slowly grinds her body onto his.

Knock,knock.

A sound hitting the trailer door ,knocking them out their cloud of peace. Barely an inch apart, breathing in each other's air. Michael shouts towards the door asking what they wanted. They answered back saying they were needed for a camera test. With a sigh he shouts back alright. His head now sits in between Wunmi breasts, breathing her in. Her hand now laying a calming presence on the back of his head. “We'll talk about this later, but for now let's act like nothing happened”, Wunmi said, making a move to move off of Michael’s lap. He grabbed her hips, stopping her from moving. “But I don't wanna act like this didn't happen. I wanna explore more , so promise when we get the time we'll sit down,and talk,” Michael said looking up to Wunmi with soft eyes .

He brought up her hand , palm resting against his face. Placing a kiss to his lips, to his jaw ,biting his ear, she whispered,”I promise”. Now getting off his lap, she looked down noticing the way his dick begged to be free from his sweats. “Handle that, quickly”, She said, making her way out his trailer.

With her finally out of the room he felt like he could breathe. Resting his head on the back of the couch he pulled his dick out his sweats. His tip was already covered with white liquid . It didn't take him long to finish ,with the image of her fresh on his mind ,and the smell of her fresh in his nostrils. Imagining what it feels like to cum in her ,while she rode him instead of his hand.

Cleaning himself up ,he made his way to costume. “ Just act like nothing happened”, Michael whispered to himself hoping he could do it.

————————

Walking on to the set of the juke joint ,now in his Smoke outfit. He started looking around for Wunmi, stopping once his eyes met hers.

Wunmi was having a conversation with Ryan about what the camera test consisted of , when the room started feeling different. The energy felt still. Her eyes drifted around the room until she saw him. Michael walked in-in his Smoke fit. That was it , that was the energy she felt. The feeling of him ,as if their souls were connected.

Her eyes stayed locked in on him. Seeing him look around as if he was looking for something,or someone. That's when the feeling hit her like a train. Their eyes met. Feeling a hand on her shoulder snapped her out of it. Now a mess of emotions, she stutters out an apology. Following Ryan to her mark in front of the camera.

Nervous to face Michael after what happened in his trailer . Nonetheless she straightened her back ,as Michael walked in front of her. Noticing how tense she was, he asked if she was alright. “Yeah, just tryna get through the day”,she answers, a sigh following after.

Before Michael was able to say anything, Ryan started giving them directions. They turned to the camera, then to each other. It looked different now , it wasn't Wunmi and Michael-no it was Smoke and Annie. Turning the head but not body, backs now to the camera. Back to back. Now back to their original stance. Ryan told them to turn to each other.

Without even thinking, his hands moved on their own. He started fixing her necklace, stilling her earrings ,twisting them into place, fixing the neckline of her dress.Settling his hands on her shoulder dragging them down her arm.

Wunmi felt overwhelmed by his touch,a small smile grazing her face. She looked down ,and to the side trying to avoid his gaze.

Michael liked that , he wanted her to squirm more.

With a serious smirk on his face,hands behind his back, he took a few steps forward, now chest to chest with her. Wunmi looked up, meeting his eyes. Seeing the smile on her lip , it caused him to break the serious look on his face ,and start smiling as well.

She stepped back now being able to breathe . Having him that close to her was making her lose her mind.

—————————

Wunmi was gathering her stuff together , getting ready to leave. When she heard a knock on her trailer door. Walking over looking through the window she saw Michael standing looking nervous. Opening the door, she looked at him with worry on her face. “ Are you alright?”, she questioned. Michael didn't answer with words , just with a nod. Seeing he wasn't gonna say anything, she motioned him inside.

“I just wanted to check on you and see where your mind is at”, Michael said slowly, carefully with his words. Wunmi answered with a short answer of , “ My mind is in a good place”. Michael turned to her seeing as she finished up packing her things. “I meant about what happened earlier in my trailer”, Michael said, his eyes meeting hers. An abrupt stop in her movements. “I liked it ,but nothing else can happen”, Wunmi said, picking up her stuff ,heading towards her door.

Before she could make it to the door ,Michael reached out and grabbed her arm. “Look, I just wanna talk”. Seeing the harsh glare Wunmi was giving him ,he let go of her arm. Once again pleading his case,”We can get something to eat,and go back to my place and chill”.

————————

Now, here they're sitting on Michael’s couch. Avoiding starting the conversation. “Martin” playing low in the background. Takeout boxes sitting on the table in front of them.

“You dragged me here saying you wanna talk ,but all silent now. I could've been in my bed by now”, Wunmi says , irritation dripping from her voice.

Startled by her sudden outburst, he reached for the remote ,pausing the show. “I just don't know how to approach this , shit I didn't even think you liked me that way”. Michael says. “Just start from when you got feelings for me”, Wunmi says , a now soft tone surrounding her voice.

Michael starts talking ,thinking back to when she auditioned.

“Aight ,I'm about to have them call in Wunmi now, she auditioning for Annie”, Ryan said to Michael who was sitting there looking bored.

Totally zoned out ,Michael just nodded. That's when Wunmi walked in the room. His eyes hooked on to her, then she walked in with confidence following her. His eyes trailed her body like she was his prey. From the way her jeans hugged her thick thighs ,snatched to her waist. White blouse,slightly unbuttoned.

He was so entranced by her ,that he didn't realize Ryan was calling his name. “Bro you good”, Ryan said with concern on his face. “ Yea-yeah,umm yall ready”, Michael said, staring at Wunmi right in her brown eyes. “Whenever y'all are”, Wunmi said with a soft smile never leaving her face.

Getting up , they acted out the 7 pages Ryan gave them. From Ryan's view he would've thought they were Smoke and Annie ,who lost a kid and spent 7 years apart. Michael felt a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. Every time he gazed into her eyes he didn't even feel like he was acting. He felt like a teenager aging, looking at his crush from across the room.

Wunmi finished her last line, a now nervous smile grazing her face. Not wanting to leave her space, Michael kinda just stood there-until Ryan yanked him over. “ So how do you think she did ?”Ryan asked Michael, who was amazed by her talent. “Fantastic”, was all he said. So Ryan walked over giving her the news that she got the part . While he was talking Wunmi looked over his shoulder seeing Michael jumping up and down with two thumbs in the air ,with a big smile on his face.

“Wait, is that how I got the part?”Wunmi said, sitting up ,bringing him out of the memory. Frantically Michael said” no-no that's not why. You might not see it ,but your talent is out of this world. The way you portrayed Annie from just seven pages was the shit. Yeah I also loved how you look, with your hair in a ponytail, and white blouse that showed off your neck. But your talent and our chemistry is what got you the part”. Wunmi just smiles ,leaning forward, setting a couple pecks on his lips. “ I'm shocked you remember what I looked like that day”, she whispered . “ I remember everything about you," Michael said, grabbing one of her hands into his.

“Mmm, you wanna know when I knew I liked you”,she said, twisting the ring on his finger.

Michael nodded, eyes trained on her twisting his ring. “When you told me I was fucking everything”, Michael's head shot up ,looking her in the eyes, saying to continue. “ I always kind of had a feeling, but when you said that”, she paused, taking in a breath. “It just clicked. That was insecurity of mine, still is”, she said looking down at her hands. Michael cupped her face ,bringing her head up , concern on his face ,as he saw tears building up in the corner of her eyes.

“ but you didn't know that ,and somehow still knew what to say”, Wunmi says, a slight smile now on face . Michael didn't think twice , bringing her face to his. Kissing her , tasting her tears. Pouring into the kiss , what he couldn't form with words. Pulling away he says,” I will always be there to tell you that, and I won't stop until you start believing it yourself”.

Wunmi pushed his back onto the couch, straddling him. Pulling him into another kiss. Michael’s hands hugging around her waist. Tugging them close ,until they were chest to chest.

Withdrawing , gasping for air. They sat there staring into each other's eyes. Speaking into the silence Wunmi says,” What do you want for your career, and life”. Arms sitting on his shoulders, running her fingers up and down his neck.

Before answering Michael pulled her closer ,until her head was lying on his shoulder, and he was breathing into her neck. “I'm not sure what I want for my career, I think it's been going down the path I want it to go down”, his words being slightly muffled. “Now my life , I like how it's been going, but I wish to travel more , find love ,get married ,have kids. Maybe even have you right there with me as I do it all”, he said lifting his head from her shoulder.

Wunmi still ,her breath started to get slower. Raising her head to look into his eyes. Trying to see if he was serious.” As a friend or what”, she said, still trying to come to terms with what he said. “ I mean as the person I'd get married to , but if not, I'll always be your friend”.

Laying her head back on his shoulder, she just started talking, “ My career is going good ,but I want it to get bigger , or at least for Hollywood to get better”, Wunmi said , a sigh leaving her mouth.

“ Now for my life, I want to grow closer to my roots, and maybe get married and have kids”, a smile now resting on her face. “Is this marriage and kids happening with me or you got someone else in mind?”Michael said, lifting Wunmi's head off his shoulder. “Take a guess “, Wunmi said before , leaning down and kissing him.

It caught him off guard, but only for a second.

After a few minutes , they finally separated. Trying to catch their breath. “ Not to kill the mood ,but you can't tell anybody about this”, Wunmi said in between breaths. Michael looked at, with a calm glare. Why he questioned? “ I don't want people to get the wrong idea, don't get me wrong I like you ,but I don't want people to doubt my talent by thinking I slept my way to the top. After the movie is done you can tell people”. Michael understood that ,he hates it ,but understands. “ Alright, as long as I can keep kissing you”, he said smiling .

“ That you can do ,but not right now, let's play 21 questions”. Wunmi knew it sounded childish, but what other way to get to know someone.

They tossed questions ,until they got to one that sparked something in Michael’s mind.

“What's your favorite song?,Wunmi said.

“You answer first “, Michael said with a grin on his face. “ I don't know why you got that look on your face ,but my song is “I'm Still in Love with You"by AL Green”.

“OK I see, you got some taste”, Michael said nodding his head. “Well let's see if you have any ,what's yours”, Wunmi said , head tilted to the side. Confusion appeared on her face when she saw Michael get up. Michael grabbed his phone connecting it to his speakers. Wunmi didn't know the song that started playing, but that didn't matter , Michael was gonna sign it to her.

Girl, I know this might seem strange

But let me know if I'm out of order for stepping to you this way

See I've been watching you for a while

And I just gotta let you know that I'm really feeling your style

Wunmi started laughing , as Michael walked over to her. Singing the song as if it was his own. Reaching his hand out to her still singing. Still smiling, she grabbed his hand. He pulled her close to him, pushing her back out spinning her.

Putting his arms around her waist, as he arms rest on his shoulders. He leaned down to her ear whispering “ This aint my favorite song ,but it reminded me of us , I'll wait however long I need to , to tell the world your mine”. Now staring in her eyes ,to show how serious he was.

No other words needed to be said, she pulled his head down into a kiss. That's where they spent the rest of the night ,in each other's arms.

I'm not trying to pressure you

Just can't stop thinking bout you

#sinners 2025 #wunmi mosaku #michael b jordan #black writers

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nerdyscouttribute · 27 days ago

Text

Just Friends (Wunmi x Michael

Summary:Wunmi and Michael confess their feelings to each other

Warning: none, this is fluff with a slight mention of something sexual, but it's literally nothing

Part 2

Michael and Wunmi walked back to their trailers side by side after filming their characters' love scene. Standing in front of Michael’s trailer Wunmi stops and turns to him,”did you mean to grab my hand”,she says ,her voice very soft. Stunned by the question Michael answers saying,”I didn't even know your hand was gonna be there ,I was just going with a feeling”. A pause hung in the air until Wunmi said,“Yeah me too”,stepping back a little towards her trailer.

Without a beat Wunmi notices; her hand going to cover the smirk that was now on her face.

“You want something to drink”, Michael says still trying to hide his hard on. Wunmi nods her head saying sure. Michael walks over to the couch with Two water bottles in hand

Sitting there ,still.

Knock,knock.

She brought up her hand , palm resting against his face. Placing a kiss to his lips, to his jaw ,biting his ear, she whispered,”I promise”. Now getting off his lap, she looked down noticing the way his dick begged to be free from his sweats. “Handle that, quickly”, She said, making her way out his trailer.

Cleaning himself up ,he made his way to costume. “ Just act like nothing happened”, Michael whispered to himself hoping he could do it.

————————

Walking on to the set of the juke joint ,now in his Smoke outfit. He started looking around for Wunmi, stopping once his eyes met hers.

Wunmi felt overwhelmed by his touch,a small smile grazing her face. She looked down ,and to the side trying to avoid his gaze.

Michael liked that , he wanted her to squirm more.

She stepped back now being able to breathe . Having him that close to her was making her lose her mind.

—————————

————————

Now, here they're sitting on Michael’s couch. Avoiding starting the conversation. “Martin” playing low in the background. Takeout boxes sitting on the table in front of them.

“You dragged me here saying you wanna talk ,but all silent now. I could've been in my bed by now”, Wunmi says , irritation dripping from her voice.

Michael starts talking ,thinking back to when she auditioned.

“Aight ,I'm about to have them call in Wunmi now, she auditioning for Annie”, Ryan said to Michael who was sitting there looking bored.

“Mmm, you wanna know when I knew I liked you”,she said, twisting the ring on his finger.

Wunmi pushed his back onto the couch, straddling him. Pulling him into another kiss. Michael’s hands hugging around her waist. Tugging them close ,until they were chest to chest.

It caught him off guard, but only for a second.

“ That you can do ,but not right now, let's play 21 questions”. Wunmi knew it sounded childish, but what other way to get to know someone.

They tossed questions ,until they got to one that sparked something in Michael’s mind.

“What's your favorite song?,Wunmi said.

“You answer first “, Michael said with a grin on his face. “ I don't know why you got that look on your face ,but my song is “I'm Still in Love with You"by AL Green”.

Girl, I know this might seem strange

But let me know if I'm out of order for stepping to you this way

See I've been watching you for a while

And I just gotta let you know that I'm really feeling your style

No other words needed to be said, she pulled his head down into a kiss. That's where they spent the rest of the night ,in each other's arms.

I'm not trying to pressure you

Just can't stop thinking bout you

#sinners 2025 #elijah and annie #wunmi mosaku #sinners #annie and smoke #michael b jordan #black women #fanfic #black fanfic writer #black writers #black love #Spotify

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