ೄ ◞♡ imagine pervy bsf!michael teaching you how to suck his cock , because you thought suggesting to play never have I ever would create silly memories and kill time before sleep catches the both of you. You didn’t know that it would lead to you exposing your innocence, cheeks flushing after a hard admit.
Lucky for you though, you have a best friend who’s nice enough to have you practice on him so you won’t go embarrassing yourself to a man you’ll want to impress.
His cock sits heavy on your tongue, feeling the full weight of him, silken skin over thick, aching heat. You listen to every advice he gives you: “Use your tongue.” You drag it along the vein, tasting his arousal. “Use less teeth.” You adjust instantly, eager to correct, lips softening. “Take it in deeper.” And you do, carefully breathing through your nose as you sink him further down.
You feel the stroke of his thumb against your cheek, letting out a slow exhale. “Good girl, just like that.”
The praise hits you right into your core, unraveling you from the inside out. You get eager for more of it, hollowing your cheeks as your tongue goes to flick over the head, precum slick and warm on the wet muscle.
“Are you sure you’ve never done this?” He questions, watching you push yourself past hesitation, the head of his cock nudging against the entrance of your throat dizzying him.
“Since you’re getting so brave..”
His hand finds its way to your hair, steadying you to give a first, gentle buck of his hips, testing how well you take it. A strangled, desperate sound escapes you, yet you do not pull back. Your throat tightens in preparation for more, thighs rubbing together for your own shameful pleasure.
You look a little too perfect with his cock in your mouth, a sight he doesn’t want to see only once. Maybe he’ll keep you all to himself, not wanting any other guy but him to see you down on your knees.
mdni (18+), just a little something before i get all the way back into writing
A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)
smoke is secretly a cuddler. it's really ridiculous. if he wasn't so damn cute, you'd probably laugh at the way he snuggles himself into you like he isn't feared by everyone that comes across him. the way he nestles his face in your neck, pressing soft kisses and whispering that he loves you and that you're beautiful and you're just made for me, baby. sweet woman, so sweet. say one word about it, though, and you'll be folded up again and none of the words leaving his mouth will be nice.
B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their
partner's)
you loooveeee smoke's arms (specifically his biceps). he's just so damn strong and the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, squeezing you tight against his chest as his fingers rub teasing circles against your clit drives you insane. he keeps you close to his chest, fucking up into you from behind and sinking his teeth into your neck. all the while, he flexes his arm against you, knowing how much you love it. he does it to please you because he knows. he sees you watching, staring at his arms through his dress shirts or letting your gaze linger at his muscles a little too long when he works out. he'd be lying if he said your love for his arms didn't turn him on. hell, he remembered the time he was fucking you in missionary and your eyes went glossy as you eyed the thick arms caging you in before letting desire take over and sinking your teeth right into his bicep. he almost came right then and there, but he (somehow) managed to hold off.
smoke is a wife man, which means that anything on his wife is his favorite. he really can't choose. good thing you're all his, so he'll never have to. his hands roam you constantly. sometimes it's a hand on your hip, holding you when he brushes behind you to get past. other times it's a slap and squeeze to your ass on your way our the door. a lot of the time, it's him coming up behind you and holding you against him, one hand cupping and massaging your breast while the other works its way to your leg, squeezing your thigh as he presses his bulge into you and contemplating how torturous it would be for the both of you if he fucked your thighs until neither of you could take the teasing anymore.
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)
he loves to watch you cum. honestly, it's his favorite pastime. he's just obsessed with the way your face contorts, brows furrowing and eyes watering from your third orgasm of the night. the way your body writhed and twists and shakes has him ready to make you do it again. if he could, he'd spend all his time making you cum. he especially loves when you cum on his fingers because the look on your face when he licks them clean while holding eye contact with you never fails to amaze him.
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of
theirs)
smoke can be secretly submissive. he's a bossy son of s bitch, but sometimes he needs that control taken away. when you get him on his knees begging to taste you? when you have his hands tied behind his back while he's forced to watch you touch yourself? when you ride him and take him to the edge before stopping completely and leaving him unsatisfied and needy? yeah, that's when smoke really thrives.
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)
smoke isn't a slut. he's been with other women, yes, but he hasn't been with that many in the grand scheme of things. he wants it to mean something. he knows what he's doing because everything he does has to have a reason. the way he kisses you is because he knows exactly how to make you dizzy. he knows how many fingers to give you before it's too much. he knows just the spot to hit inside of you because he took the time to learn your body because he wanted you to know that your pleasure means something to him. smoke absolutely knows what he's doing because it's a mixture of experience and taking the time to find out what you enjoy.
F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)
twitter link
he loves this position because he loves to be close to you. he loves to hold you and please your and swallow every little noise you make.
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they
humorous, etc)
both. smoke can be serious. especially when he's had a long day or when he hasn't seen you in too long or when you've worked his very last nerve. he'll be no bullshit, strong grip on your chin as he fucks you and reminds you just who he is. when he gets silly, though, something in your heart spins. he'll press soft kisses to your nose, grin as you giggle breathlessly and tell you a joke after you both finish.
H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
he's very well groomed. he likes to stay cleaned up for you because he knows how much you like to take him in your mouth. he wants to make sure that it's as comfortable for you as possible.
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment)
smoke is completely invested in your intimate moments. no outside factors are going to come between the two of you. no work will get done until you've gotten the chance to cum on his tongue, so don't even think about reminding him that's he running late to handle business. he'll just give you two more orgasms to remind you that he's got better things to worry about than working all the time.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
here's the thing, he doesn't have to. however, he knows how much you love to watch him. sometimes you'll come home to smoke on the sofa, hand wrapped around and gently stroking himself with his head cocked to the side and a smirk on his face that lets you know he's been waiting for you.
"why don't you sit in front of me and watch, pretty baby?"
you really want to touch him, but he swats your hands away with his free hand, shaking his head at you and telling you to be patient. it's torture to watch him fuck himself, hips bucking up into his fist as he grunts and chants your name like a prayer, but fuck does it make you the wettest you've ever been.
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
choking. smoke loves it when you choke him. your hand around his neck makes his head spin. something about having you take that step of control drives him crazy. there's been times where he's been a complete asshole, but your hand on his neck as you squeeze shuts him up immediately. it makes his head turn off and he can't focus on anything else.
overstimulation. he loves to see you overstimulated. he loves it when you're shaking and sensitive off of four rounds of his mouth on you. you can take more, baby. i know you can take more for me. he knows that your hand pushing against his head isn't the stop sign because as soon as he stops you whine and whimper like a pathetic slut and beg him for more. if you wanted him to stop, your safe word would be pulled out, which rarely happens.
smoke's praise kink works both ways. he loves praising you and telling you how good you are for him. he relishes in the way you get off on him letting you know he appreciates you and that you're doing a good job. on the flip side, he didn't even know he liked praise until you came along telling him how smart he is and how sweet he is and complimenting certain parts of his appearance. he thrived off the validation and his cock would get hard and beg for attention with every kind word his way. it didn't take you long to notice that he would go berserk any time you praised him, so "smoke, you're so perfect" quickly turned into smoke, you're my good boy.
breeding kink (see letter M)
L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)
at home. genuinely anywhere at home. he can't ruin you the way he'd like to when you're anywhere else. he hates to rush. taking his time with you is a must, which he can only do when he has you alone in the comfort of your shared home.
M = Motivation (What gets them going)
you. your existence. your being. it doesn't take much for him. however, there was a stretch of time where nothing turned him on more than the idea of you pregnant. he could picture it perfectly. he could see your rounded belly creating the product of your love. he could see your full breasts and thick thighs. it was all he wanted. he'd had you in a mating press one night, gruff voice telling you how great you'd look stuffed full of cum. he growled like a fucking animal when you gave him the green light to make you a mommy.
N = NO (Something they wouldn't do)
he will not under any circumstances do anything to hurt you. yes, he'll manhandle you, but trust that his hand is behind your head when he slams you against the wall. he'll bite you, but never enough to draw blood. he'll pull hair, but not too hard. it took forever to convince him to lightly choke you. he won't slap you, won't spank you, won't do anything to injure you. he physically can't know that you're in pain and that he's the one causing it.
0 = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
this man gives just as good as he gets. his tongue is otherworldly. the way he licks and sucks and fucks you into next week should genuinely be illegal.
he likes to hear you sucking him off. he likes it sloppy, spit and lewd noises filling the room. your warm mouth always gets him off and he makes sure to thank you by returning the favor and sitting you on his face.
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)
smoke is as sensual as it gets. even if it's fast, the experience is always so fucking sexy. he makes sure you know you're valued. and if he's in the mood to worship your body, just know that he won't be done until he's kissed every last part of you.
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex,
how often, etc.)
again, he loves to take his time with you, but if he really can't wait, he'll settle for a quickie. he'll pull your skirt up and fuck you from behind, telling you how you've driven him so crazy that he just couldn't fucking wait to get you home. look what you've done, baby. i gotta have you right here and now.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
smoke knows what he likes and he knows what you like, but he's always open to trying something new as long as you're comfortable with it. he'll talk it over with you one hundred times if he has to. all that matters is that you feel safe trying something new with him.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)
smoke needs breaks in between rounds, but that doesn't stop his mouth or his fingers and it doesn't stop you from humping his thigh to get off again because you're just so damn needy. when he's ready to go again, though, just know that the sounds of you cumming between rounds gave him a fuel boost and you'll probably be sore later.
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or
themselves?)
smoke + vibrator = out of body experience. the feeling of smoke pounding into you, hips snapping against your own as he presses your vibrator to your clit is something that you can only handle every once and a while. the sensation is so much. those are the times when your orgasms are the longest and most intense.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
smoke can be a tease depending on the day. sometimes he likes to see how much you can take before you're begging to cum. he'll edge you or give you featherlight touches just to fuck with you.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
smoke does not mind noise. he will grunt and groan in your ear all night if you let him. if he's subbing, you'll hear him whimper like a damn puppy.
he's so fucking vocal. when he's lost deep in pleasure, he just talks and talks and talks, tells you how good it feels and how lucky he is and how he'd marry you again if he could.
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character)
smoke really enjoys it when you cockwarm him. he reads a lot and sometimes you'll catch him reading and don't want to interrupt despite your need for him. you'll pull his pants down and sink down on his cock slow and teasing
can i help you? through gritted teeth as he raised an eyebrow over the top of his book
just needed to feel you inside me, baby. keep reading
he hides his smirk behind his book and if he intentionally shifts below you? well, that's his business.
X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or
words)
yeahh...
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
that man loves you. his drive for you is frequent and consistent. all it takes is one look and he's falling into his want for you. he just loves making love to you. it reminds him of his love for you and yours for him. after all, if you can love him like this after everything, can he really be as bad as he's spent so long thinking he is?
Z = ZZZ (- how quickly they fall asleep after sex)
smoke is a cuddler. he'll cuddle and talk you to sleep. when you drift off, snores escaping you, he'll press a soft kiss to your head and fall asleep soon after
Summary: The adventures of Smoke and his wild and carefree, younger girlfriend.
Warning(s): SMUT (18+, MDNI), unprotected sex (m/f), dirty talk, use of sex toys, overstimulation, spanking, bondage, mentions of creampie, harassment, misogyny (not Smoke though).
Lovergirlnote: This came out way longer than I expected y’all lol, but honestly I was having so much fun writing it. To all my fellow young hoes, this one is for y’all. Let me know what you think!🥹♥️
From the book of young hoe: Thou shan’t wear a coat if it doesn’t match the fit.
When most people met Smoke, they automatically assumed that they knew what type of woman he would gravitate towards. When they envisioned Smoke’s significant other, they pictured a woman who was modest, quiet, and poised. What they weren’t expecting was you.
Now, no one would ever step to Smoke and openly say anything unkind about you. Not unless they wanted to be packed up like a can of sardines. Because one thing Smoke didn’t play about was you.
Smoke meets you at the gas station of all places. He notices you almost immediately. It’s really hard not to notice you in your short dress that clings to your curves like it’s painted on, or the loud clacking from your heels that are definitely a safety hazard.
Or maybe it’s the warm and sweet vanilla perfume that wafts past his nose and lingers in the aisle as you pick up snacks. Smoke assumes that you must be coming back from a night out based on how you look. Your movements are a bit sluggish, but still graceful as you pick up a bag of Hot Cheetos.
You seemingly don’t pay attention to any of the patrons inside the gas station, whose eyes follow you like bugs to a porch light. You blow large bubbles with the gum in your mouth before popping it to repeat the cycle.
Smoke hates the way that his body instantly reacts to feeling your presence behind him. Your scent overwhelms his senses like you’re imprinting yourself into every atom of his being.
He spares a glance at you once he pays for his things. He finds that you’re already staring at him with a pretty smile and mischievous eyes. You wave your pretty manicured hand at him before stepping up to the counter. Smoke chuckles lowly before waving back to you and heading outside to pump his gas.
You slide the snacks across the counter as you smile flirtatiously at the associate, “Azim, how you doing, baby?”
Azim blushes under your gaze, “I’m doing good, my darling. Was it a good night out?”
“It was amazing, my girls and I danced all night. Free drinks too,” you reply, blowing another bubble.
Azim starts bagging up your items before peeking back up at you, “I’m glad to hear you had such a good time. Anything else you need, my dear?”
“Let me get $20 on pump five.”
Azim types the amount in the register before giving you your total, “That’ll be $21.00, my love.”
You smile at him, “Azim, I know you’re undercharging me.”
Azim waves you off with a soft chuckle, “You know you’re one of my favorite customers. I have to take care of you. Family discount.”
You tap your card on the reader before smiling and blowing a kiss to Azim, “You’re the best, Azim. Let me know when your wife is making some more of that baklava, so I can come through.”
“I’ll have her make you a special batch. Come by on Sunday,” Azim calls out to you. You reply with a quick ‘thank you’ before walking out to your car. You spot Smoke standing at his car, pumping gas, along with a few other guys who are crowded around one car.
Truthfully, Smoke could’ve been done pumping his gas, but he chose to pump slower in hopes of catching you coming out of the store.
You open the door to your car to throw the snack bag on the seat before moving to start pumping your gas. It’s not lost on Smoke how cold it is outside, and you, in your tiny dress, don’t even seem to be phased by it.
In fact, you keep pumping your gas and blowing bubbles like everything is copacetic.
Unfortunately, Smoke’s not the only one who notices how pretty you look tonight. The guys surrounding the car all wolf-whistle and make noise as they catch you passing by. Smoke can see the predatory look in their eyes as they drink in your appearance.
His body immediately goes into protector mode. Feeling bold, one of the guys starts to yell out in your direction, “Aye ma! Aye ma! Lemme holla’ at you!”
You roll your eyes and keep pumping your gas. You chose to ignore the ignorant man, who clearly doesn’t have any home training.
It appears that audacity is on sale as the man yells out to you again, “Aye, girl! I know you hear me talking to you!”
Still, no response from you.
“Well, fuck you too then, you stuck up bitch!”
Smoke doesn’t know whose head snaps over quicker—his or yours. He can see the anger filling your pretty face as you finally stop chewing your gum.
“Boy, if you don’t get the fuck out of my face with them cheap ass clothes and that fake-ass Cuban link. Wanna-be-rap-ass nigga,” you yell back. Smoke and all of the other men are stunned momentarily by the ruthlessness of your words.
The wanna be who you just insulted doesn’t take the lashing well. Smoke catches the ugly expression that overtakes the man’s face as he moves around the car to start making his way to you. His homeboys have enough sense to try to stop him, but he roughly shrugs them off.
Just as he’s about to make his way to you, Smoke stands directly in his path. The older man squares his shoulders and glares down at the younger man. The height difference, combined with Smoke’s quiet disposition, creates a sense of unease in the young man’s demeanor.
“Nah, don’t get shy now. Whatchu’ was planning on doing, young buck? You thought you were about to put your hands on her?” Smoke questions, stepping up to crowd the boy’s space.
The man in question opens his mouth to start stuttering. Smoke frowns, “Nah, don’t start stuttering on me now, boy. Tell me whatchu’ was planning. You wanna act bad in front of your boys, so let’s talk man to man. You wanna press her? Nah, you press me now, nigga.”
The man swallows harshly as Smoke can see the tremors racking through his body as he finally starts to recognize Smoke.
He holds his hands up, “S-Smoke, I ain’t meant nothin’ by it, man.”
“You ain’t mean nothing by it? Seems like you had your mind set before I stepped in front of you. You wanted to be a man when you were about to put your hands on her, but you ain’t a man now that I’m in front of you.” Smoke steps forward so the only thing that the young man can feel is his presence.
He lowers his voice, “You listen to me, and I want you to listen real good because I don’t repeat myself. You ever talk to a woman like that or approach her like that again, ima beat yo’ ass as yo daddy should’ve. If I see you planning on pressin’ another woman, I’ll break every bone in your fuckin’ body and have you sippin’ on yogurt for the rest of your life. Don’t get yourself put on a t-shirt, boy. I’m sure Ms. Coretta ain’t prepared to put you in a casket. We clear?”
The young man is now openly shaking as he sees the darkness in Smoke’s eyes. It’s like he’s looking at something inhuman. He nods his head, “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Smoke,” He responds, fear lacing the edge of his tone.
Smoke nods, “Now, I believe you owe her an apology.”
The boy looks in your direction, “I’m sorry, Miss. It won’t happen again.”
Smoke looks at him again, “Now, get the fuck out of here.” The young man scurries away with his homeboys in tow. Anyone in town knows that the Smokestack twins are the last men that you want to have beef with.
Smoke turns to you before walking over. You blow a bubble before popping it, “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”
Smoke smirks, “Yes, I did. What were you planning on doing if I hadn’t stepped in or been around?”
You shrug, “I was planning on getting him with this bear mace.”
Smoke lifts his eyebrows, “You know that’s illegal.”
You blow another bubble. Pop! “So is harassment, but these niggas act like the First Amendment entitles them to a response from me.” Smoke chuckles in response.
You look at him, “So it’s Smoke, I reckon?”
He nods, “S’just a nickname. My real name is Elijah.” You hum while still chewing on your gum. You’d vaguely heard of the Smokestack twins. Anybody this side of the Delta had heard about the two men, but you rarely paid attention when people would go into detail about them.
You only cared for gossip when it was something that intrigued you. Two men who put fear in the hearts of men in the South didn’t intrigue you. Yet, with Smoke standing in front of you, smelling like a grown man, you were now thoroughly intrigued. It didn’t help the fact that he was fine in a way that gave 90s.
Smoke catches your hand on the gas pump, “Let me finish pumping your gas for you. It’s freezing out here.”
You step to the side and let Smoke take over. Who were you to deny the services of a man being courteous to you? Smoke takes a moment to look at you up close.
You smile before leaning on your car, “You wanted to pump my gas so you could stare at me?”
“M’just wondering where your jacket is,” Smoke comments.
“At home, it didn’t go with my outfit,” you respond as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“So catching pneumonia in the ass is worth the fit?”
“Yep, you haven’t ever heard the saying ‘fashion is sacrifice’?”
Smoke chuckles, “Can’t say I have. Now, would you pretty please go sit in the car while I finish pumping your gas?”
You roll your eyes before smacking your glossed lips, “Fine, since you’re so worried that I’ll turn into a popsicle.” You open your door before sliding into the seat. From his view, Smoke can see you typing on your phone. He finishes pumping your gas and places the gas pump back on the handle.
He closes the cap as you turn on your car. You roll down the window just as Smoke steps closer to lean down. You flash another pretty smile at him, “Thank you again for your help, Mr. Smoke.”
“Just Smoke for you, sugar. Or Elijah. Whichever you prefer.”
“Hmm..I guess I’ll call you, Elijah, then,” You said, still chewing on your gum. There’s a beat of silence that’s filled with your soft chewing and music from your radio.
You lean closer to him, “Are you going to ask for my number now?”
“You know I’m too old for you, right?”
You blow another big bubble and pop it, “So? I like my men a little seasoned. Just hand me your phone.” Smoke slides his phone from his pocket and unlocks it. You start typing your number in before calling yourself. You save his contact and slide his phone back into his hand.
“Do you always give your number away at the gas station?” Smoke questions.
“I give my fake number out all the time. You should feel lucky that you have my real number,” You respond, flashing another cute smile at him. Smoke admires the way that the light dances across your skin and the faint glitter that he assumes is from some lotion.
“Consider me honored. Drive safely and let me know when you make it home,” Smoke states, looking you straight in the eye.
You smack your lips, “You checking for me already, old man?”
“I’d just feel a lot better knowing that you got home safely.”
“I’ll text you then, Elijah.” With that, you smile before rolling your window up. You drive out of the parking lot with Smoke watching your car.
He enters his own car and sets off to go home.
Later in the night, when he makes it home and showers, he’s lying in bed, and he hates to admit that he’s waiting for the text from you. Finally, his phone vibrates in his hand, and he sees your name appear on the screen.
You
*image attached*
I made it home safely
Smoke eyes the picture for far longer than he’ll ever admit. His gaze scans across your baby blue pajamas and the matching bonnet. A cute smile graces your lips as you snap the picture.
Elijah
Let me take you out tomorrow for brunch.
You
Straight to the point, I like you.
I guess I can clear some time in my very busy schedule for you😉
Elijah
I promise it’ll be worth it.
You
It better be. I’m not afraid to leave you at the table by yourself.
From that moment, you became Smoke’s old lady, and everybody knew not to cross you unless they wanted him on their necks.
From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt take the clothes from the dryer and put it in a pile; you’ll get to it later
The age difference between you and Smoke takes a little bit to get used to on both of your ends, but honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. In fact, you keep Smoke on his toes every day that you’re together. It’s within the second month of your relationship that he learns that you’re a “young ho” as you had so affectionately put it.
“Why you calling yourself a hoe?” He asked, a frown covering his handsome face.
You roll your eyes, “It’s not like that, Elijah. It’s more of a reclamation of a word for a positive cause.”
“What I tell you about rolling your eyes?”
You resisted the urge to do it again. The last time that you’d rolled your eyes at Smoke, he’d turnt you every way but loose in the bedroom.
He chose not to elaborate on your new self-proclaimed title. He learned very early in your relationship that you were a real stubborn brat when you wanted to be. He liked to play the part of annoyed, but inwardly, he loved how much you tested his patience.
Smoke was one of those guys who had a real strict program, and that program was applied to you, but he often let you off scot free most of the time. Stack would even fuss at him because of how spoiled Smoke had you.
The next day, Stack and Smoke are sitting at the kitchen table together while you’re vacuuming in the living room. You cut the vacuum off, and Smoke expects you to walk up to the wall to take the cord out.
But you don’t. Because young hoes don’t do that. Instead, you grip the cord and rip it out of the socket before dragging the piece over to you.
Smoke and Stack both watch you.
“Aye, why didn’t you just go pull it out?” Stack asks.
You smack your lips, “Why would I make all of those unnecessary steps when I can just do it my way?” You wrap the cord up and hook it onto the vacuum before leaving the living room.
Stack turns to Smoke, “You would end up with a young hoe.”
“So you know about it too?”
“Yeah, it’s this new thing on Twitter and TikTok. Girls talking about stuff that young hoes typically do. Her ripping that cord out of the wall was a prime example.”
Smoke does typically watch you. It’s a habit, really, but now, he watches you closer for your young hoe habits.
He comes over to your house on a Sunday and finds that you’re finishing up your laundry. You grab the warm clothes from the dryer in one big swoop and deposit them on the chair in the corner of your room. Smoke watches as you walk away without folding the clothes.
“Baby, you just gone leave them right there?” He questions, looking between you and the pile.
“Yes, Papa Bear, I’ll fold them later,” you respond. He wants to give you the benefit of the doubt and trust that you’ll fold them, but he has to keep an eye on you.
Turns out, he should’ve let the doubt win.
When he comes back over the following day, the clothes are still sitting in the chair. Wordlessly, he goes over to the pile to start folding the clothes into neat sections for you. He even goes the extra mile to place them in their appropriate places.
You give him a surprised look when you come into the room, “Aww, Papa Bear, you didn’t have to do that.” You press a big kiss against his lips, your lip gloss staining his lips, but quite frankly, he loves the sensation.
“You’re welcome, baby.”
Smoke is able to catch more of your young hoe antics when it comes to clothing. You volunteer to put his clothes in the washer because you love taking care of your old man.
To his honest defense, Smoke believed that you could handle the task, and truthfully, you could, but just in your own way. He stands up from the couch to go grab a water from the fridge. Once inside the kitchen, he catches sight of you in the laundry room with his dirty basket of clothes.
Now, Smoke is a man of habit. There’s a precise way that he likes to have things done. Which is why he’s honestly gobsmacked when he watches you load the clothes into the washer without separating any of them by color.
To top it off, you grab his expensive laundry detergent and pour way more than what’s required into the washing machine. You turn the machine on, step back with your hands on your hips, and have the nerve to look proud.
You turn and catch sight of him staring at you in the kitchen. He fixes his mouth to comment, but chooses not to when he sees the bright smile on your face.
You point at the washer, “Look, I got you all fixed up.”
Smoke can’t find it in his heart to take this moment from you, so he just smiles in response before walking over to press a long kiss against your lips.
“Thank you, baby.”
Now, Smoke is old, but he didn’t think he was that old. But by the way that you’re looking at him and the ironing board, the nigga starts to feel like Morgan Freeman.
“You don’t know what an ironing board is?”
“Nigga, I’m not daft, I know what an ironing board is. I’m just trying to figure out why you would need one. Just iron on the bed.”
Smoke cuts his eyes in your direction, “No, the creases won’t hit the same.”
“Anyways. So what do you need this disinfectant spray for?” You ask, holding up the white bottle.
“Baby, that’s starch.”
You frown and turn the bottle in your direction before reading it. You try to hide the embarrassed look that crosses your face before you hand the bottle back to him. You walk over to the ironing board that is still folded and fumble with it.
You look genuinely perplexed by the fact that it won’t stand up. Anyone else would be annoyed, but Smoke finds it cute. You look at him with that whiny pout on your face, “Your ironing board is broken. Probably because it’s from the 90s.”
Smoke chuckles before taking the ironing board from your hand and standing it up correctly. You look at each other in silence before you nod, “I got it loosened up for you. You’re welcome.”
With that, you walk out of the room, and Smoke figures it’s best to just let you have the win.
Besides, his baby girl gets whatever she wants when she’s with him.
From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt use Apple Pay for literally every expense. We don’t use physical cards or cash anymore.
Smoke is old school.
He still carries around a wallet of cash and his debit cards. He only sets up Apple Pay on his phone because you insisted that it was more convenient.
It is, but he won’t admit that to you. For you, you never have to pay for things when you’re with Smoke. In fact, he finds the audacity of you paying for anything outrageous. On the small chance that he isn’t there with you, he makes sure that you have the funds available for your needs.
When he tries to hand you his card, you genuinely look perplexed, “What’s this for?”
He squints, “For you to buy your stuff. No limit.”
“That’s cute, Papa Bear, but I don’t even carry my own card around. I use Apple Pay for everything,” You said.
“Just add my card to your Apple Pay, then baby,” Smoke orders, sliding the card in your hands.
“Okay, thanks, baby,” you said, kissing his lips a few times. In response, Smoke slides your body into his lap and watches as you type the card into your Apple Pay and save it.
This isn’t the only incident involving money with you and Smoke. You’re about to head out for a night with your girls when he stops you.
“Come here before you leave, baby,” He demands from the couch. He and Stack are watching the finals while you go out.
“Sup ugly,” You state, slapping Stack on the neck. He frowns and twists around to pop you back when you step out of the way.
Y’all are about to engage in another childish fight until Smoke glares at you both. Stack smacks his lips, “You better get yo girl before we be outside tussling.”
“Ima mace you too,” You quip, as you walk to Smoke’s side of the couch.
“See, I don’t even wanna play with you because I know you’re serious,” Stack states before turning his attention back to the TV.
Smoke runs his eyes up and down your body in the two-piece set. Your body shines from your rigorous body care routine. He grips your waist, “You look good, babygirl.”
“Thank you, Papa Bear,” you respond, leaning down to kiss him. From behind him, Stack makes gagging noises while you stick your finger up at him.
As you pull away from the kiss, Smoke grabs a couple of bills from his wallet and slides them over to you.
“Uh, I don’t need this,” You said, a faint whine at the end of your tone.
“Yes, you do. Your little Apple Pay can’t cover everything. What if your phone dies? You need to be prepared just in case. Here. Take a few quarters, you might need to call me from a pay phone,” Smoke explains.
All of the argument leaves your body because he’s right and you know it. You slide the bills and change in your purse before leaning down to press your lips against his again. This time, however, you slide your tongue inside of Smoke’s mouth while his hand goes to your neck.
“Man! Y’all gone with all of that,” Stack yells from his end of the couch.
You and Smoke part with a few additional pecks. A honk from outside lets you know that your friends are here. As you go to leave, you peck Smoke’s lips again, “I love you, Papa Bear. I’ll text you updates throughout the night.”
You start walking towards the door until Smoke clears his throat, “Grab that coat on the way out, babygirl.”
You huff and throw your head back, “Elijah..it doesn’t go with my outfit!”
He gives you a hard look, and you stare back. For a solid minute, you both keep the staring contest going as Stack moves his head back and forth between the two of you.
Smoke goes to stand when you hold your hands up, “Chill! Chill! I’m getting it.” You grab the jacket and hold it up as if to say, “See.”
In return, Smoke smiles at you, “Good girl. I love you too. Make sure that you text me.”
Stack laughs, “Aha…my brother got you in check.” He turns and feels like he has the last word. He doesn’t catch you creeping up behind him until you lean down to whisper, “stupid hoe” in his ear and slap the back of his neck again. You’re already out the door by the time that Stack gets off the couch.
He frowns and crosses his arms.
Smoke takes a sip from his drink, “Y’all are some children.”
Later in the night, Smoke periodically gets updates from you about your location and condition. You send him tipsy pictures from the club bathroom. It’s not too long before he gets a notification from your Instagram saying that you’ve posted to your stories.
Smoke chuckles at the picture, but he’s glad to see that you’re having a good time with your girls. Some people assumed that since you liked to go outside, it would be a turn-off for Smoke, but it was quite the opposite.
He liked the fact that you were young, carefree, and enjoying your life. He’d never try to nag or change who you were. In fact, being with you taught Smoke that he needed to let loose a lot more and enjoy the moment.
Hours later, he hears the sound of a car door closing and watches from the porch as you walk back to the house. You pout pathetically upon seeing him, “My feet hurt. Can you carry me, Papa Bear?”
Without hassle, Smoke scoops you up into his arms and carries you into the house. He waves at your friends as he closes the door. Your head lolls to the side as you lie on his shoulder.
Smoke looks down at you, “You still with me, baby?”
“Mhmm.”
He raises an eyebrow, “So you gonna carry me up these stairs?”
“Yeah, I got you, baby,” you grumble back. Smoke laughs to himself at your antics. Even in your tipsy state, you still swore up and down that you were the Incredible Hulk.
Arriving inside the bedroom, Smoke gently sets you down while grabbing a big t-shirt for you.
He helps you with getting out of the heels and your set. “Lift your arms for me, baby.”
You oblige as he slips his t-shirt over your head. He goes to the bathroom to grab some micellar water to help you remove your makeup.
You grumble in sleepiness.
“I know, baby, just a little bit more,” He coos to you gently. Once he’s finished cleaning your face, he tucks you away under the blankets. He slips your bonnet over your hair.
“It’s hot,” you whine from beneath the covers. Smoke walks over to the fan, flicks it on, and turns it in your direction. He’d never heard of someone sleeping with a fan on until he started dating you.
He slips beneath the covers and pulls your body into his side. You cuddle your body more into his hold, “Thank you, Papa Bear. I love you.”
“I love you too, babygirl,” Smoke replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.
As he listens to your steady breath, Smoke rationalizes that there’s nothing better than being here with you.
If Stack were here, he’d clown him real bad, but Smoke doesn’t care. He’d gladly go out and get your name tatted to show how down bad he is for you.
From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt play the music about the guns and drugs, but shalt not participate in said activities
Smoke watches you in amusement as you pretend to shimmy in the living room, as “Off the Leash” by Gucci Mane blasts through the space. When he first met you, he’d assumed that you would like a lot of lover girl music, which you did.
But more often than not, you were listening to music about drugs and guns, even though you were hands down a law-abiding citizen. The song changes to “All There” by Jeezy, and you start hyping yourself up more.
You walk over to Smoke and start rapping the lyrics in his face, while grabbing money from his wallet to spread it down your arm.
“So you’re a dope boy now?” Smoke asks, subtly nodding his head along to the music.
“I’ve been trappin’ out here, Smoke,” You respond. He raises his eyebrows at the change of name, but continues chuckling as you make gun gestures with your hands.
“So that means I should go get you a gun of your own now?”
You ball your face up, “No, thank you. You know I don’t like guns. Plus, I’d just be a menace if these niggas tried me.” You prove your point by making gun noises like you’re shooting
You really weren’t a big fan of guns. Even with the gun that Smoke kept in his house, you always made sure that he had it locked away, far from your sight. You didn’t even like the idea of him being near a gun, and he was a whole trained veteran.
You take your phone out and start typing. You glance back at him, “I have a hair appointment tomorrow, so I may be MIA for a while.”
He nods, “Okay, I’ll send you the money to cover it.”
You lean down to press a kiss against his cheeks, “Thanks, Papa Bear.”
When you mentioned getting your hair done to Smoke, he doesn’t expect you to be gone for that long. He checks your location, which states that you’re still at your braider’s house.
His phone buzzes with a text from you.
Babygirl♥️
Be home soon.
I can’t wait for you to see my braids🙂↔️
He lets out a sigh of relief at the message. One thing that was always true, Smoke could be a bit overprotective, but it was only because he knew how the world operated. He knew how cruel people could be, especially to someone like you.
You were smart and observant, but Smoke just preferred to be around to look out for you. In his mind, you were all bubble gum, sunshine, and sweetness. He’d hate to see someone trying to snuff that light out of you.
Thirty minutes later, Smoke hears your car pulling into the yard. You get out, casually sipping on your Stanley Cup and walking to the house.
He opens the door to greet you. You connect your lips to his while gripping his shirt, “Hey, Papa Bear. I hope you weren’t waiting up for me.”
“I was,” Smoke said, closing the door behind you.
He goes to sit on the couch and crosses his arms, “What took you so long?”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “It was mostly the braid length. You know I like to get my braids long.” You do a quick turn to show the braids off, and Smoke’s gaze travels down to how long they are. The braids’ length ends just below your butt.
You turn back to him with a wide smile, “Do you like them?”
“Yeah, babygirl, I love them. You look beautiful as always.” He means it. There’s not one moment when Smoke isn’t thinking about how beautiful you are.
Later in the night, he oils your scalp at bedtime. In return, you apply a clay mask to his face as he waits for it to dry.
Quite honestly, Smoke had never been well-versed in skincare. That just wasn’t his thing. Now, he kept himself up and always kept his skin moisturized, but stuff like skincare was more up Stack’s alley.
Since dating you, Smoke has a whole skincare routine that you and he do every night. He’s always had pretty good skin, but since being with you, you've elevated his skin to a new level. You both stand side-by-side at the sink, washing the masks from your faces. Smoke scoops you up to sit on the counter and grips your backside in his hand as you apply his serums and moisturizer for the night.
You peek up at him through your lashes, “You so handsome, Papa Bear.”
You grab his chin in your hand and pull his face down towards yours. Smoke’s lips engulf yours in a passionate kiss as he tongues you down. He slides your body closer to his as he fully steps between your legs. You roll your hips into his as his bulge presses against your wet core. When he steps back slightly, you whine in response while pouting. Smoke chuckles darkly before gripping your thighs to pull you off the counter. He effortlessly carries you from the bathroom to the bedroom and deposits you on the bed.
He leans down on the bed to cover your body with his. He grabs both of your wrists in his hands and pins you to the top of the bed. He frowns when he moves one of his hands and hears a crinkle. Smoke looks up and grabs the item. A bag of Hot Cheetos crunches in his hands.
He looks down at you while you give him an innocent grin. It’s only when he looks up that he notices all of the extra items in the bed like candy, your iPad, both of your chargers, and your Stanley.
He’s about to open his mouth to comment when you stop him, “Before you start with all of that, I need this. These are my essentials. Don’t be trynna reach across me to eat my snacks either.”
He gives you a blank look, “I’m trynna eat you now, but if you want to keep the snacks on the bed…”
You move quickly to put the snacks and other items on the nightstand.
You open your legs with a soft smile, “Okay, I’m ready.”
The only thing Smoke can do is chuckle, but he still gets on his knees regardless. His back may protest, but he’ll never give up the chance to put his mouth on you.
From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt not take any BS.
It didn’t take Smoke a long time to figure out that you were a bit of a hot head. In your honest defense, you just weren’t the type to hold your tongue, especially when something felt like disrespect. Which is why he often found it amusing when you and Stack would argue because you’d match his brother bar for bar with insults.
However, it was all love between you and Stack. You were the younger sister he always craved having, so he’s delighted to have you around more often.
As Smoke’s old lady, as he likes to refer to you as, your invitation to any family functions is automatically secured. You knew your spot was secured when all of Smoke’s aunts and uncles hit him with the famous, “That’s you, nephew?”
You stood in the kitchen with Ardelia, Smoke, and Stack’s mother as you both conversed.
“I’m so happy that you could come today, and you look so pretty,” Ardelia said, nodding her head in appreciation.
“Thank you, Mrs. Moore,” You said, grinning widely.
“Ah, now what I tell you about that. None of that, you can call me mama.”
You smiled even brighter at her comment. Ardelia had been nothing but welcoming to you since Smoke introduced you for the first time. You were nervous that she wouldn’t be accepting of you, especially with the age gap, but she referred to you as her daughter-in-law all over town. Now, a few of Smoke’s other family members weren’t as accepting of you, but they wouldn’t ever say it aloud. But you were well aware of the whispered comments.
‘He’s bringing that lil’ girl all up in here. She still got milk behind her ears.’
“He outta be ashamed. Bringing her around here when he could be back with Annie.’
‘Look at her outfit. Any shorter and them shorts will be some panties.’
’I heard she just with him for the money. Jill from down the street said she got a pattern of jumping from man to man and using them for money.’
‘Lord, that’s a shame!”
You rolled your eyes and took it on the chin. The last thing you were about to do was start an argument with Smoke’s folks, especially in his mama’s house. You knew how a lot of people viewed you, especially with how you carried yourself. There’d been rumors all over the place that you were a relationship hopper, which was far from the truth. You just weren’t the type to stick around in a relationship, especially if it didn’t serve you.
Growing up as a little black girl in the South, you recognized that many black girls weren’t taught how to date. Most girls here felt that if they dated someone, they had to tie themselves down to the person forever. It was often frowned upon if you were dating more than one person or exploring your options.
No, exploring your options was only something that was reserved for men.
The fact that you weren’t the type to stick around in dead situations or entertain men made you stick out like a sore thumb in the community. They couldn’t stand to see a black woman standing strong in her boundaries. They would never catch you apologizing for that.
You walk outside and sit next to Smoke, who is surrounded by a few of his uncles and cousins. It’s at that point in the evening when the conversations shift to more controversial topics, and the new school vs old school duke it out.
You were already rolling your eyes as Marvin, one of Smoke’s cousins, opened his mouth to speak. He was the physical embodiment of red pill alpha male content.
“I’m just saying, I wouldn’t want my Queen out here degrading herself on these apps by posting seductive pictures and doing OnlyFans. I mean, look at the state of female rap, all they talk about is their pussy and what they can get from men.”
A few of the older traditional men hum in agreement.
You frown, “Well, isn’t that a bit contradictory, Marvin? Men rap about pussy all the time. There isn’t one rap song that you can give me that doesn’t consist of some line of a man talking about all of the women that he’s slept with or the degrading acts that he makes her perform. To add onto your point, you’re complaining about the women making content, but you fail to realize that there wouldn’t be a market if men weren’t paying for it. Sounds like smart business women capitalizing on a rising market.”
Marvin cuts his eyes at you. You can see the irritation rising in his eyes, “See, I’d expect you to say that. You’re one of those new school women. You don’t have traditional values. A real woman knows her place in the home. She should be preparing the home for her King to come home to. She shouldn’t be out here selling pussy.” He glances over in Smoke’s direction, “Dang, cuz, you really switched things up with this one. At least Annie was taking care of her man.”
Marvin sits back in the chair, clearly pleased with himself. Beside you, Smoke hardens, and everyone can catch that look of murder in his eye. He’s about to address the situation when you place a hand on his chest.
“It’s okay, baby, I got it. Marvin, I don’t take pseudo-intellectual men like you seriously. You be the same niggas hollering about being an Alpha male and you ain’t even graduated from community college. Last time I looked in the mirror, my breasts and vagina were still there, so I think we got the real woman part covered. You keep trying to take jabs at me about being a low-value woman when, last time I checked, I got two degrees under my name, and I’m well on my way to my third. Let’s not forget the high-paying job, and I own my house. We can go band for band if you want to.”
You pause and snap your fingers, “I forgot, you don’t have a job, so your bands wouldn’t even match mine. What’s your occupation again? Wait…you’re still building your little YouTube with the ten subscribers, all of whom are your homeboys who can’t keep your dick out of their mouths. You keep talking about pussy, but baby boy, you wake up every day and look at a pussy in the mirror.”
You sit back in your chair with a demure smile. The backyard is silent as everyone turns to look at Marvin. He storms from the chair and walks towards the door. You all listen as his car pulls out of the driveway.
“I like this one, nephew,” Tony, Smoke’s uncle, comments as he clinks his cup with yours.
Smoke looks over at you in concern, “Baby, you good?”
“Yeah, ain’t nobody stressin’ over Marvin. I know my worth, and I know what I bring to the table. I’m not about to let anyone feel like they pressin’ me.”
“Good, but I’ma still beat his ass later on for talking to you like that,” Smoke states, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.
“Thanks, Papa Bear.” You lean over to press your lips against his. You resist the urge to deepen the kiss because you still have to be respectful in front of his family.
“Anytime, baby, you know you mean the world to me. Nobody in this world is ever gonna disrespect you while I’m around.”
Before you can comment, Stack leans over to dap you up, “That last line was a bar. Let’s go put that down in the studio.”
From the book of women: Always show respect where respect is due.
Annie Boudreaux. Formely Annie Moore.
You’d met Annie in passing a few times, and you liked her well enough. You both got along, seeing as you were both important women in Smoke’s life. To others, they wondered if it bothered you that Smoke’s ex-wife still came around to family functions, but truthfully, it didn’t.
You understood how important Annie was to Smoke and their shared history. It’d be selfish if you asked him to stay away from her. That didn’t mean that Smoke was taking advantage of the situation and disrespecting you. He’d always be open and let you know that he was going to see Annie. You’d always kiss him and bid him on his way.
Today was the first time that you’ve ever set foot in Annie’s yard.
You walk slowly towards the side of the house where baby Anais Moore’s headstone sits. You note the fresh flowers sitting at the headstone, no doubt from Smoke’s earlier visit in the week. You set down your own bouquet before willing away the tears that follow.
Smoke talks about his and Annie’s little girl from time to time, but only when the moon shines low in the room, and you can’t see his tears falling. He’d laid his head on your chest and whispered all about his daughter, while you remained silent and rubbed at his head.
“She was so beautiful and tiny. I was scared of holding her the first time,” He laments.
Your heart clenches painfully in your chest. You wish that you could take away all of the pain, but you know that nothing ever quite soothes the ache of losing a child.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here today,” Annie comments from her place on the steps. You catch her eyes as they clock the flowers that you placed at the baby’s grave.
“I wanted to come visit you, and I needed to ask for your help with something.”
Annie gives you a long look before ushering you inside the house. She pours you a glass of tea as you sit across from each other on the couch.
“So what brings you by?” Annie questions.
“Can you teach me how to make that gumbo dish that Elijah likes. He mentioned that it’s one of his favorite meals, and I wanted to do something nice for him,” You said, nerves coloring your voice.
Your wide eyes meet Annie’s, and you’re honestly scared that she’ll tell you no. Instead, she chuckles, “You came all this way to ask me how to make a pot of gumbo for Elijah? Come on, silly girl. You must really be in love.”
“I am.”
For another beat, you both look at each other, and Annie runs her eyes across you. Unbeknownst to you, she can see the pink swirls radiating around your body with all of the love that you have for Elijah.
She gestures for you to follow her to the kitchen, where she begins taking out all of the ingredients. She turns to you, “Go pick me some of those bell peppers from the garden.”
You nod before setting out to the garden, where Annie has an assortment of fruit and vegetables. You navigate towards the bell peppers as you pick out the best ones. Inside the house, you hand the peppers to Annie as she washes them off.
“I love your garden. I always wanted to grow one,” You said, leaning against the counter.
“Tell Elijah. He’s good at starting a garden,” Annie responds. She ushers you forward as she grabs the flour and cast-iron skillet.
“Now the roux is the most essential part of the gumbo. You mess up the roux, you might as well throw the whole pot away.”
Together, you and Annie work hand in hand to craft the gumbo the way that Smoke likes it. Annie lets you take over for the most part, while she gently guides you. Soon, you’re both sitting at the table sharing a bowl of gumbo over rice and laughing like old friends.
“Next thing I know, Stack is running out of the house. Yellin’ about some voodoo,” Annie states, to which you laugh loudly.
Your laugh calms after a few minutes when you catch Annie staring at you.
“Thank you,” She states.
She doesn’t have to explain what she’s thanking you for. You already know. You slide a hand across the table as you tangle your fingers together.
“I really appreciate you, Annie.”
“Likewise.”
She doesn’t mention that she can read your palms with your hands touching like this. She chuckles internally. She hopes that you’re ready for some twins in the future.
When Smoke gets home later in the day, he’s surprised at the familiar scent that wafts across his nose. For a minute, he wonders if Annie is inside the house with you. He walks inside the kitchen and takes note of you standing in front of the stove, stirring away at a familiar pot.
You and Smoke are so in tune with each other that you sense him as soon as he enters the house. You turn around, “Hey, Papa Bear, take a seat.”
Smoke sets his work bag down and takes a seat at the table. You fix his bowl of gumbo just the way that Annie mentioned he likes, along with a piece of cornbread on the side and a glass of tea. He takes a second to look between you and the bowl of gumbo. He notes the similarities in the gumbo, “You makin’ gumbo now, babygirl?”
“Mhmm..I had a little help from Annie today. I wanted to get it just the way that you like it,” You said, moving to fix your own bowl.
“You visited Annie today?”
“Yeah, you mentioned that her gumbo was always your favorite, so I went by to ask her how to make it for you.” You shrug at the end of your sentence like it’s no big deal, but to Smoke, it means the world.
Before you can take a bite of your gumbo, he grabs your hand in his.
“Thank you. You know I love you, right?” He said, eyes glistening under the light. It means a lot that you went out of your way to ask Annie how to make his favorite meal.
“I love you, too, Elijah,” You respond before connecting your lips to his.
As you both eat, Smoke eyes your empty ring finger and figures that he may need to change that pretty soon.
After the meal, Smoke offers to wash dishes, but you shoo him away.
“Just sit down, you’ve been working hard all day. It’s just a few dishes,” You said, turning the water on.
Smoke expects you to plug the sink and let it fill up with soap and water, but you do the exact opposite. You keep the water running as you wash each dish one by one under the hot water.
“Baby, you could’ve just filled the sink up,” Smoke comments.
“Ew, I don’t want all of that food touching my hands,” You shoot back.
Smoke decides to drop it and continues watching you wash the dishes. He already knows that he should expect the water bill to be higher this month. From the looks of the empty paper towel roll, he might have to just invest in the big pack from Costco.
From the book of young hoe: Always listen to Papa Bear.
It’s one of those nights when you and your girls are going out again. Smoke opts to stay in, but he’s already made sure that your purse is packed with all of the essentials. He knows how forgetful you can be.
The sound of your heels clicking brings his attention to you as you walk into the bedroom. He hadn’t paid much attention to your outfit. You always did your makeup first before putting on your outfit, and then you’d give him a little show before leaving.
Now, Smoke’s gotten used to some of your more risque clothing choices. Shoot, when he first met you, you were wearing a dress that had him drooling. He isn’t one of those guys who likes to police his woman on what she’s wearing, but he is very possessive of you. Smoke knows that you’re a baddie, so why would he stop you from being that?
However, he has to draw a line with this outfit, if you can even call it that.
Smoke coughs past the smoke and snuffs out the joint that you rolled for him. “What you got on?”
You smile at him through the mirror, “It’s cute, right? I found it the other day!”
You had taken the definition of mini skirt to a whole other level. You’re well endowed in your backside, which hangs out of the skirt. You bend forward to check your makeup, and Smoke almost falls out.
He frowns at you, “Go change. You ain’t leavin’ the house with that on.”
Naturally, the pout crosses your lips, “But why?”
“Baby, I ain’t finna have these niggas out here eyeing my woman, and I’m not around.”
You huff in annoyance, “Elijah, it’s not that deep. It’s not even that short.”
He eyes the skirt again with a glare on his face. If he could set the skirt on fire, he would.
“It’s not up for discussion. Go change into something else.”
“No.”
Smoke’s head whips around so fast that you’re surprised that his neck doesn’t break. That dark look crosses his face, “Babygirl, you sure you wanna cross that bridge with me? Take yo’ pretty ass back in there and get changed.”
The urge to be a brat weighs heavily on you tonight. You square your shoulders and look him dead in the eye, “Nope, I’m wearing this.”
A honk sounds from outside, and you move to grab your purse. Smoke is openly glaring at you and challenging you, “You leave out of this house, I hope you prepared for the consequences later.”
You shrug, “I’ll be back later on. I love you, Papa Bear.”
With that, you walk your pretty self out the door, even though your stomach tingles with anxiety. As you step into the car, your homegirls turn to look at you.
“Girl, Big Daddy Smoke let you out of the house wearing that,” your friend, Leilani, asks.
You smack your lips, “He was making a big deal of it at first. Telling me that I need to go change. He don’t run me.”
Your friend, Omi, smacks her lips, “Sis, he gone tear you up when you get back. You know them old heads don’t play about all that.”
“It’s fine, y’all. He’ll be okay when I get back.”
“He gone kill her when she gets back. I’m puttin’ a sign on you that says ‘Dead lady walking.’ You might as well gone get your coochie ready,” your friend, Keisha, quips.
When you all make it to the club, it’s turnt as usual. You and Stack lock eyes as you pass his section. His eyes flicker down to your skirt before he starts shaking his head. He ushers you over, “You gotta be one of the craziest people that I’ve ever met. Does my brotha’ know you outside like this?”
“Yes, Smoke doesn’t run me. I can wear what I want,” You state, a frown crossing your face.
Stack laughs. Not one of those low laughs, but the loud and annoying types.
“Whew, I’m scared for you, girl. But I’ll keep an eye on you. Have fun now before you get home,” Stack said, continuing to laugh. He lets you and your girls come into the section with him and his boys. You know that it’s so he can carefully watch you.
Whenever you go to get a drink, Stack stops you and goes to the bar himself. You and your friends go to hit the dance floor when Stack holds his hand up.
“Oh my gosh, Stack, move!”
Stack smacks his lips, “I’m just looking out for you. Gone dance, but if I see any nigga gettin’ too friendly with you, I’m on him like white on rice.”
You give him a thumbs-up before following your friends to the middle of the floor. You’re having the time of your life and twerking like you aren’t on borrowed time. Stack keeps his eyes on you at all times like he’s watching a toddler, which he thinks may be true. He takes his phone out to record a video of you to send to Smoke.
Stack
*video attached*
Don’t stress yourself out. I’m keepin’ an eye on her.
But I know you got something planned when she gets home.
*Smoke liked your message*
Stack takes a sip from his whiskey, “Lord, she in danger.”
By the end of the night, you’re all danced out and sweaty, but overall, you consider the night a win. Stack offers to take you home and ushers you into the car. Your friends snicker because they know that Smoke is punishing you tonight. The only one oblivious to the fact is you.
Pulling into the driveway, Stack turns to you with a smirk, “Good luck.”
The lights are all off in the house except the porch light. Smoke stands under the porch light like a serial killer. You turn to Stack with a grim look, “Maybe, we should back out of the driveway really slowly.”
“Nope. You wanted to be grown. Now, you gotta face your actions like a big girl,” Stack said.
“I’m blinking twice for help. I’m telling a trusted adult!”
Stack shrugs, “Too bad I’m not a trusted adult.”
“Trick..” you mutter before opening the door to exit the car. Smoke nods his head at Stack, who reciprocates.
“I’ll see you in a week,” Stack jokes, before backing out of the driveway.
Like a scared deer, you walk unevenly to the porch where Smoke is still standing. As you approach, he blows out a big cloud of smoke before throwing the joint down and stubbing it out. You stand in front of him, “Hey…”
Smoke doesn’t say anything, but simply steps to the side to let you inside the house. You swallow loudly as you walk inside the house. The only sounds are the distinct chirps from the crickets outside, along with the subtle clicks of your heels. You and Smoke make your way to the bedroom. You go to grab your pajamas when Smoke stops you, “Didn’t I tell you to change earlier?”
You turn slowly to face him, “Yes, you did.”
“And I told you that if you left this house, there would be consequences, but you didn’t listen, did you?”
“No….”
“Come here,” Smoke demands, voice soft. He doesn’t have to raise his voice to get his point across.
You stay rooted in the same spot, partially aroused and partially scared. Smoke chuckles darkly, “You still ain’t learned? You know I don’t like to repeat myself.” You scurry over to stand in front of Smoke as you look up at him with wide eyes.
“Stand right there,” Smoke orders. He walks off to rummage through one of the drawers. Your eyes widen as you see him procure one of his good ties. The heat from his body wafts onto yours as you become hyperaware of him standing behind you. Smoke grabs your hands in his and skillfully wraps the tie around your wrists so that your hands are bound behind your back. He tugs at the knot and hums in satisfaction.
You try your hand at seeing if you can move and find that you can’t. Smoke moves to stand in front of you as he glowers down at you. He steps closer to press his chest against yours. For a moment, a soft look crosses his face as he cups your face in his hands. He leans down to connect your lips, and you moan at the taste of whiskey that lingers on his tongue.
Smoke pulls back from the kiss as his eyes run across you. He trails his hands down your form until his cupping your backside in his hands. “You could’ve stayed home and modeled this lil’ skirt for me, but you wanted to go and show off what’s mine.”
You go to open your mouth to protest, but Smoke stops you, “I didn’t say I was done talking. Since you wanted to be a brat, I’ll treat you like one.” You let out a squeak when Smoke grabs you to throw you on the bed. Your body bounces before it settles.
Gripping the corset in his hands, he cleanly tears it down the middle until the material falls away. You gasp in surprise as the cool air hits your nipples. Flipping you onto your stomach, Smoke hikes your hips up and flips the skirt over.
He tugs your head back, “You owe me. You can either take my hand or something else.”
The last time Smoke spanked you, you were left shaking on the bed. It was either his hand or one of those leather belts with his name on it. You were screwed either way.
“Your hand,” You said.
Smoke nods, “Let’s tally up how much you owe me. 10 for the outfit plus 10 because I told you to take it off and you back-talked. Also, an additional 10 because you still left.” Your wide eyes meet his as you turn to face him, “But daddy, that’s thirty.”
Smoke chuckles, “Glad to see you can count, darlin’.”
The first hit sends heat flooding through your body, along with feeling your cheek ripple under his hand. The second hit sends a flood of wetness to your panties. By the tenth hit, the tears are already running down your face. How were you supposed to count through twenty more?
Your entire backside is on fire once Smoke delivers the last hit. You’re fully shaking and hiccuping into the sheets, but you can’t deny how turned on you are. By now, you’ve soaked completely through your panties, which Smoke clocks.
He takes two fingers and runs them up and down the soiled material, “My dirty baby. What am I gonna do with you, baby? You don’t know how to listen now.”
“M’Sorry, Papa. I’ll listen to you next time.”
“I know you will because I’m gonna make sure that you do.” He flips your body around and grips your panties as he tears them clean from your body. Smoke maneuvers your body to the headboard before going to grab another tie. He loops the tie through the bedpost before securing your hands to it.
Smoke walks over to the closet and rifles through it for a few seconds. You lift your head to get a good look, but his shoulders block your view. He walks over with a long metal rod in hand, “Do you know what this is?”
You shake your head. He laughs lowly, “It’s a spreader bar. I’m gonna put your legs in these cuffs, and you won’t be able to move.” Sitting at the edge of the bed, he removes your heels one by one before throwing them carelessly to the floor. He places your ankles in the cuffs and secures them. Smoke moves to stand in front of the bed as he grabs the metal in his hands. He can already see your glistening folds as your slick pools beneath you.
He moves your legs from side to side, “See, this is a special bar, I made it myself. Every time you move babygirl, it’ll spread your legs more.” He jerks the rod, which loudly clicks as your spread apart more. You look at him in surprise.
He grabs the box that he set on the bed and opens it. Your old man is a sex fiend, apparently, as he lifts various forms of vibrators out of the box. Smoke moves to your open legs and dips his fingers inside of you to collect your slick.
He brings his wet fingers up to his mouth to suck your juices from his fingers. He takes one of the vibrators in his hand before the tip across through your wet center. You shiver at the sensation of the tip dipping into your entrance.
“This one is special, babygirl. That special spot that I’m always hitting…well my little friend is made to specifically reach that spot.” He pushes the toy inside of you as you gasp at the fullness of it.
Smoke coos gently at you as your wet eyes meet his, “There we go, baby.” He clicks a button, which brings the vibrator to life inside you. Smoke pushes the toy in and out of you as your walls cling to it.
Your eyes widen when he holds up another toy, “My other friend is for that lil’ pearl up there.” He trails his fingers through the curls that cover young mound until he reaches your clit. Your body arches into his touch as he casually rubs small circles around your clit.
“Please…” you whine into the room.
“Please what, darlin’? I need you to be more specific,” Smoke said condescendingly.
Your mind is venturing into that mushy territory where you don’t know what you’re asking the man for.
He smirks, “You don’t even know what you’re asking me for. That’s alright. Take care of my other friend for me while I get done smoking.”
He attaches the curved toy to your clit and clicks a button, and it buzzes to life. Your first reaction is to move your body. You wither across the mattress, pleasure consuming every inch of you. You go to move your legs, only for the spreader to click and spread your legs further.
You gasp.
Smoke chuckles before moving to sit in the chair in the bedroom. He grabs his early discarded blunt to relight. He inhales the smoke into his lungs as he casually watches you suffer.
Smoke casually taps the button on his phone, which increases the vibrations on your clit and inside of you. Your back arches from the bed as your release climbs higher.
Just as you’re reaching that sweet release, Smoke taps the button and turns the vibrators off. A loud whine leaves your mouth, “Please let me cum, Papa.”
Smoke blows the smoke from his nose, “Since you asked so nicely…”
He eases up the level of the vibrators to the fullest level. A loud screams erupts from your mouth as your walls clasp around the toy and your orgasm consumes your body.
Smoke leans forward, “That’s one. Give me about four more and we’ll call it even.”
You turn your head to him in disbelief. Before you can protest, he turns the vibrators back on.
You’re a mess of cum, sweat, and tears. Exactly how Smoke prefers you.
Your brain is complete mush at this point and you can feel the puddle that had formed beneath you. Somewhere between the second and third orgasm, you’d squirted.
Smoke turns the vibrators off and throws his phone on the chair. He walks over to you and pulls your ruined face to his. Your expression shows how far gone you are. He lightly taps your face, “You still with me, babygirl?”
Your tongue lolls around in your mouth, “Mhmm, Papa.”
“So you can give me one more?”
“Mhmm.”
He unties your hands from the bed. He runs his hand across your wrists and kisses them gently. Smoke pulls the vibrator from your core and observes the cream that forms around the base of the toy. He flicks his tongue out to slurp some in his mouth.
Smoke pulls his shirt over his head before dropping his boxers. You eye his hardened dick and as tired as you are, you still need to feel him inside of you.
Smoke lays down on the bed next to you and pulls your pliant body across his lap. He points his tip at your swollen entrance, “Go slow, baby. Papa will take care of the rest.”
You lower your pussy down onto his dick as you whine into his shoulder. You shudder as you feel his large tip brushing against that spot inside you.
Smoke grabs your hips in his hand as he gently bounces you up and down on his dick. You turn your head to connect his your lips to his. Smoke slides his tongue into your mouth and gently sucks at your tongue.
He gives a particular thrust that sends fresh tears to your eyes. “I know, it’s too much baby, but you’re doing so good for me. Cum for me one more time, babygirl.”
You nod weakly.
Smoke plants his feet on the bed and starts thrusting roughly into your body. Loud, wet noises fill the bedroom as your walls clench around his length.
“M’coming Papa. Right there..”
Smoke feels his own balls tightening as his release nears. He smashes his lips onto yours as your orgasm hits. He swallows your moans into his mouth as his own orgasm starts.
Smoke holds your hips firmly to his as he fills you up.
You shiver at the feeling of his cum splashing against your womb.
For a second, you both breathe in tandem as your heart calms down. Smoke runs a soothing hand up your back, “You good, Princess?”
“Mhmm, m’good Papa. I’m sorry.”
Smoke chuckles, “I forgive you, baby. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
He gently slides from inside of you as you whimper softly. A wave of Smoke’s cum slides from you as it lands on the bed. Scooping you into his arms, Smoke walks into the bathroom and sits you on the toilet.
You’d long since passed the stage of your relationship where you were shy of going to the bathroom in front of him. As wipe and flush the toilet, you raise your arms for Smoke to pick you up.
He grabs a towel and applies warm water to it before wiping at your face and between your legs. Back inside the bedroom, Smoke gives you a pair of his boxers before sliding his shirt over your head. He slides a pair of briefs on before he tucks you into bed.
He grabs a bottle of water before offering it to you. Once you’re done, you flop back on the pillow. Smoke slides in beside you as he pulls your body closer to his.
“I love you, babygirl.”
“I love you too, Papa Bear.”
He presses a kiss to your neck as he closes his eyes.
You ask and you shall receive! This is kind of inspired by one of Latoya’s columns about Deedee’s baby shower. I hope you enjoy ♡
Jackie Jackson x Reader
Synopsis: Reader reminisces about finding out she was pregnant. Jackie’s family throws reader a baby shower.
Warnings: fluffed up like a cloud! Jackson brothers/family mention, long fic, not heavily proofread.
Word count: 2283
You and Jackie were getting dressed to head over to Hayvenhurst. Jackie’s mother and sisters were throwing you a baby shower. As you did your makeup, you were in deep thought, reminiscing about how you got here in the first place.
It was about six months ago when you found out. You were at your place of business, your hair salon. One of your girls brought a lunch with her, it was simply a burger and fries, but from the minute you smelled it, your stomach felt rancid.
You gagged quietly before excusing yourself from your client. “Hey girl…I need to run to the restroom really quick. I’ll be right back.” You tried to hold your composure before blasting off to the restroom.
As soon as you got inside, you were bent over the toilet, retching, all from the smell of a burger. To be honest, the thought crossed your mind then but you did not want to believe it. When you returned to your client, you knew she would have to be your last head of the day. You convinced yourself that you must be facing some sort of viral illness.
You had one of your employees take on your last two clients and you took off for the rest of the day. You spent the rest of the afternoon lying on the couch watching tv, with a lingering nausea all day that was out of the usual.
You were waiting on Jackie. He always took good care of you, and right now you just wanted to be babied and waited on. He came in looking all spiffy. He had his shades on and his signature half-buttoned shirt. “Hey girl.” He said in his smooth voice.
“Whatcha doing home so soon?” He came and sat putting your legs on his lap, rubbing them. “I didn’t feel so good. Janice brought in this burger and I don’t know…the smell of it just drove me crazy. I think I’m coming down with something. So you might wanna keep your distance.”
“Mmm…well how do you feel now?” He continued to caress your legs which made you feel all warm inside. He was such an affectionate man, probably one of your favorite things about him.
“I feel a lot better. I’m just tired.”
Jackie was thinking to himself there might be a possibility you were with child. Who gets sick from the smell of grilled beef? He thought, but he did not want to scare you. But this reminded him all too well of when his mother was pregnant with each of his little siblings.
“You’re quiet.” You said noticing he was suddenly in deep thought. “Oh I was just thinkin’.” He nodded reassuringly. “Bout what?” You sat up resting your head on his shoulder. “Nothing serious.” He lied, forming the best smile he could. He laid his head against yours, continuing to think.
The idea of a baby excited him, but he knew how much you loved your independence. He wasn’t so sure if the prospect of pregnancy so soon into your marriage would excite you as much as he. So he decided to wait and see if you exhibited any other symptoms.
Sure enough, the next morning you woke up feeling quite ill again. As Jackie rolled over in bed hearing the sounds of you in the restroom, he was almost certain you were carrying his child. You had grown to feel the same but you wanted to be sure first. You knew the idea of a baby would send him over the moon and you didn’t want to excite him prematurely.
You glanced over your shoulder to see that Jackie was now standing in the doorway watching you, feeling sad that you were sick.
“Baby.” He said softly.
“What Jackie.” You replied in irritation, not really intending to be mean but you were in quite an ugly pickle right now, gagging and heaving over the toilet.
“…You think you might be pregnant?” He blurted out. No shit Sherlock. You thought, but you didn’t wanna be mean to him. You just turned facing him as you sat on the tiled floor with your knees to your chest. You were silent, which he understood as a “Yes.”
He came down to your level. Immediately you began to cry. You’d always wanted kids, but you could not quite put a finger on what about this was making you so emotional. Maybe it was the dream you always had that it’d be just you and Jackie while you adjusted to the married life. Maybe it was you feeling concerned about how much Jackie would still have to be away. Everything just felt bittersweet.
Jackie wiped your tears. “I don’t want you to be sad…if you’re pregnant, that’s nothing to fret over. We’re more than ready. And you know…I’ve always dreamed of a little Sig runnin’ around here.” He smiled, which seemed to brighten the mood a little.
“What about your life? You and your brothers-“
“Sweetheart. For one that’s for me to worry about. Second, you know I’ll be here for you and the baby.” He shook his head, not wanting you to take on his stress. “And we’ve got plenty support.” He rubbed your back.
You nodded, feeling a little reassured. “How do you know it’ll be a little Sig. What if it’s a little Sigeisha.” You held your laugh.
“Sigeisha…” He said as if he were dreaming, which caused the both of you to burst into laughter. He helped you up from the bathroom floor giving you a hug.
Later that week, you and Jackie went to the doctor and found out you were almost a month and a half pregnant.
Six months later, here you are, standing in the mirror trying to make yourself feel pretty as you got ready for your baby shower.
“What is it baby?” Jackie questioned as he noticed the dazed look on your face. “I just don’t feel like me…” You pouted looking at yourself in the mirror.
Standing behind you, he placed his arms gently on your shoulders looking into the mirror with you, stooped to your level. “Well. If it makes you feel any better, I still see you. The same way I saw you seven months ago. The same way I saw you years ago. My baby. My beautiful baby.” He pinched your cheek before planting a kiss on it.
This brought a smile to your face. “Now put your pretty little dress on and let’s get out of here. You look lovely.” He remarked, lightly hitting your butt before heading out of the bathroom. You put on your outfit and shoes before heading out behind him with a sigh.
You waddled outside, letting Jackie help you into his car.
You were excited for the baby shower, but feeling a little overwhelmed knowing you’d be doing a lot of socializing, but Jackie assured you it’d be fun.
“You haven’t been out much lately. It’ll be a good…low stakes day of fun. My mother and sisters are so excited for you, they just wanna celebrate us a little. Don’t fret.” He squeezed your hand as he drove.
Upon arrival, you headed inside with Jackie holding your hand and helping you the whole way.
“The mom-to-be!” Toya said excitedly as you guys entered. Little Janet was blowing balloons up playfully and the rest of the family and friends were sitting around awaiting your arrival.
You hugged everyone, Jackie close by on your tail. He was overprotective of you, always afraid you might fall or somehow be hurt.
“I’m not the baby, I’m carrying the baby.” You’d always say jokingly.
After greeting and thanking everyone, Jackie helped you to your seat. The room was filled with laughter and jokes and the occasional family member approaching and wanting to rub your belly. “That baby must have Jackie’s big ol’ apple head.” Michael joked as he felt your belly.
“Yup. The head’s probably about 5 pounds on its own. Poor woman.” Tito laughed as the rest of everyone in the room giggled.
“Y’all shut up.” Jackie giggled.
Toya stood up in the center of the living room getting everyone to quiet down. “Alright everybody. I’ve got a few games in store. As your game host, Janet’s going to introduce them.” She grabbed Janet’s shoulders endearingly putting her front and center.
“Okay…We’re gonna start with How big is mommy. You’ll all get a strip of ribbon. Your job is to guess how big the mom-to-be’s belly is.” Janet said shyly in her sweet voice as she began giving out ribbon and scissors.
“This game isn’t so nice.” You joked causing everyone to laugh. Jackie measured your belly himself to get the accurate ribbon length for everyone to compare their own to. You smiled as he gently placed the ribbon on your belly before snipping it. He planted a kiss on your belly before sitting back in his seat.
“Time’s up!” Toya and Janet shouted above the chatter of the room.
“Now who did this?” You and Jackie laughed uncontrollably as you got an unbelievably long ribbon. Jermaine raised his hand with a silly look on his face. “Had to account for that apple head ya know.” He shrugged.
“Y’all are wearing that joke out!” Jackie laughed.
“Lay off of my man and his apple head.” You laughed cradling Jackie.
As you cycled through the rest of ribbons, you finally found the most accurate ribbon, which turned out to be your mother-in-law’s. “The only person who took the game seriously.” Jackie laughed hugging her.
After a few more silly baby shower games, from blindfolded What’s in the box? To baby shower bingo, everyone was now digging into the cake.
You and Jackie finally had a private moment as he cut you a piece of cake. You rubbed your hands together excitedly as he planted the knife into the pretty yellow cake. You’d been craving something sweet and this cake looked rather tasty.
“Somebody’s ready for some sugar.” He laughed, tickling your belly teasingly as he handed you the plate. “Mmmhm!” You said enthusiastically as you took your first bite.
“Just under two more months to go.” He leaned against the counter watching you tear into that cake. “How are you feeling?” He tilted his head.
“Excited and nervous.” You fed him a bite of cake. He chewed first, “Me too.”
“You know, I knew you were pregnant that first day you came home early from work.” He said rubbing your belly, lovingly. “You kept asking me what I was thinking about and-“
“And you kept saying, nothin’.” You mocked his soft voice. “I didn’t wanna scare you…” He said with his eyebrows furrowed together in a playful pout. “But who gets sick from smelling a burger…besides a pregnant lady. Y’all always got that nonsensical sickness. I knew then.” He grabbed a fork getting an unsolicited bite of your cake.
“Moveeee. Get your own.” You whined swatting his hand. He grabbed one more bite just to rile you up. “Jackie.” You groaned.
“Jackieee.” He mocked you teasingly as he planted a wet kiss on your forehead. “I’m gonna go start loading the car up with the gifts okay?”
You nodded wiping the moisture from his lips off of your head. “You gon’ wipe my love away like that?” He shook his head. “Shame on you.”
“Get out this kitchen.” You chuckled as he went off and started to load the car.
~
After a great day of celebration, you were finally home. You plopped down tiredly on the bed struggling to take off your shoes.
Jackie kneeled down to help you. “Don’t strain. I’ve got it.”
“Thank you.” You sighed, feeling out of breath.
“Uh huh.” He said as he pulled your shoes off.
“Toya wanted to know if it was okay to include pictures from the baby shower in her column.” He said as he grabbed you a change of clothes.
“That’s fine. Just make sure I look real pretty.” You laughed as you began to change clothes. Jackie assisted you because he just couldn’t help himself. He didn’t want you lifting a finger for anything.
“It’s hard for you to not to.” He said as he helped you pull your shirt off. You smiled with that same bashful smile you had the day you two met. Jackie always had a way of keeping the romance alive and fresh.
He sat down sitting your feet in his lap so that he could rub them.
You let out a sigh of relief as he massaged your feet. They hurt a lot these days, so elevating them and having him to rub them always helped.
You laid back resting your hands on your belly. “You enjoy yourself today?” Jackie asked.
You nodded. “Of course.”
“Good. How are you feeling?”
“You ask me this like ten times a day.” You giggled.
“Like physically.” He clarified.
“As good as an almost eight months pregnant woman can feel.” You grabbed one of his hands placing it on your belly to feel the baby move around.
“My feet are always swelling, I feel bloated all the time, and I have to pee every two seconds. But life is good…and easy for me. So I try not to complain.”
“Some women don’t have someone to rub their feet, help them change clothes, kiss their belly, and all that.”
“Well. Pregnancy is a lot on a woman. I wouldn’t be mad to hear you complain here and there.” He laughed a little before laying next to you.
“Yeah I know. But I like my little life. I’ve got everything I need and more.”
Husband!Michael who carries you through the doors of Neverland after your wedding. You told him he didn’t have to but he said he wanted to do it like how it is in the movies.
Husband!Michael who comes home from a long day of rehearsal and flops beside you on the couch with a dramatic sigh. His whole body is sore, and he could really use a nice massage from you, but is too stubborn to ask. He keeps sighing loudly and rolling his shoulders with a groan. You side eye him, catching his gaze already on you.
"Michael," you hold his name out, "Do you want me to rub your shoulders?"
He tries to play it off cool, shrugging, "Well, if you're offering then yeah, sure. I guess that would be nice." All the while he's immediately moved to sitting in front of you, waiting patiently for your touch.
Husband!Michael who never ever fails to open the door for you. He never lets anyone beat him to it, and he most certainly doesn't allow you to open the door.
Husband!Michael who constantly takes photos of you, even when you're doing the most mundane of tasks. Reading? Picture. Talking? Picture. Watching a movie? Picture. Breathing? Picture.
Husband!Michael who starts leaving hints that he's ready for a kid. He buys books on parenting, leaving them purposely in plain sight. Talks about how sweet his nieces and nephews are, all while side eyeing you to see your reaction.
One time he was sitting beside you on the couch and without prompting said, "Yknow, you would look really good pregnant. Like really really realllly good."
You look at him like yeah right, but he's looking incredibly serious.
Husband!Michael who runs victory laps around the Neverland estate when you tell him you're pregnant. He’d take a long lap, and run back to you panting.
“you’re positive???”
When you nod he would scream and take yet another lap.
Husband!Michael who immediately starts building a nursery and buying all sorts of baby clothes, despite not knowing the gender. He buys you anything and everything that could help make the process easier for you. You have a whole closet now full of pregnancy balls.
Husband!Michael who just about faints when he first sees the baby through the ultrasound. He held your hand tightly, eyes brimming with tears. The sight of him made you emotional, and you squeezed his hand.
He kneeled beside you and kissed your hand, "I promise you, I will always be here to take care of and cherish you and our baby."
And there wasn't an inch of you that didn't believe him.
summary : husband/ dad headcannons of michael! sfw (heavily suggestive at the end.)
a/n: this was rq by @heuhanenani 🥹💞
˙⋆✮💐HUSBAND!MICHAEL! : who would deeply apologize, everytime he came late from the studio, on the verge of tears for not being able to wish you a goodnight, not being able to hold you to sleep.
=
“ ‘m so sorry, pretty.. got carried away at the studio with demos… “ he whispered into your ear, sliding into the comfortable duvet you two shared.
you softy blinked, fluttering your long lashes as you stirred. “mmh… hm..? what time is it?” you whispered into the pillow, your frame showing a faint outline outside the blanket.
“it’s 12:42 baby…” He whispered, a small whimper leaving his lips, rubbing your blanket covered body, his large hands making their way up your body, pushing faint pieces of your hair pass your face. “ ‘m so sorry… so sorry…” he whispered again, this time pressing a kiss to your forehead, trying not to disturb your sleep to much, already. “I’ll.. I’ll make it up to you when you get up, I promise baby, I promise..”
⋆✮💐HUSBAND!MICHAEL! : who surprised you once when you went to one of his tours , pulling you up on stage for “lady in my life.”
=
“everyone, everyone!” Michael breathed out, quickly trying to catch his breath from the previous song. “For, for our next song, we have a very… very special guest.” He chuckled out, his gaze looking at you, which you were in the front row. You didn’t notice how his attention was meant to be towards you, until the camera flashed onto you, the instrumental to “The Lady in My Life” slowly bleeding into the speakers. The security quickly grabbed your hand, carefully dragging you onto stage, which where you met Michael, a nervous smile spreading across your face, as you whispered something ineligible to him, making him giggle.
“My wife!” He smiled, interlinking his hands with yours., and holding it too the sky.”
⋆✮💐HUSBAND!MICHAEL! : who records every single thing you guys do, claiming it’s for memories, it doesn’t matter if you guys are getting ready for bed, or if you’re cooking dinner, or if he’s just making you talk about your goals in the camera, he has it out, and he’s definitely recording.
=
“Testing.. testing…” he mumbled into the camera, the camera clicked, quickly zooming into your face, right into your pores, before zooming quickly right back out, now just a clear view of your face. “say hi.” he sung out, as you looked up, a camera directly almost inside your eyeball. “Michael get that shit away from me!” You giggled, trying to push the camera away, which he quickly brung it right back. “mamas angry.. we’ll fix that later.” he mumbled, the camera now directing to the food you were stirring.
BONUS STORY:
your hands stayed firm on the steering wheel, your eyes remained on the road before you, as Michael held up the camera, wind blowing in his hair. You guys were on vacation, practically begging for a sense of peace, no paparazzi, no overbearing fans, none of that, just you, him, and the car that was currently on the way to the beach, sun roof and windows down, the sky was a bit gloomy, but that didn’t stop you guys. The wind blew in your hair, as you screamed the lyrics to a song you still couldn’t frankly remember. “Baby! Baby it’s raining!” You giggled, the rain slashing down your hair, face, and camera lens. Michael laughed as well, the camera sloshing around, capturing all the smiles and giggles. “Hold— hold the steering wheel!” You yelled, standing up from your seat, peaking your head from the roof of the car, letting out a squeal. You were insane, but that’s why he loved you, you brought out a side of him no one else has ever did.
˙⋆✮🍂DAD!MICHAEL!: who brung your children with him to the studio sometimes, making sure everyone knows days prior, making sure to not to introduce to the bad habits of the studio, like the cigarettes, the smoke, all of that. He’d even teach them about the soundboard, if they were interested of course, not wanting to force them apon something they didn’t want to do.
=
this… this is the soundboard, you can control how loud, or quiet your voice can be!” Michael smiled, bouncing the child on his leg, one hand supporting them on their waist, and the other pointing a slender finger to all the button, nobs, twist and what-not. “what does this one do, daddy?” Your child beamed, pointing at a random button, too which Michaels face scrunched up, laughing off his confusion. “I… i dunno, sweetheart..” He chuckled out, grabbing the child, and taking them off his lap.
˙⋆✮🍂DAD!MICHAEL!: who designated days where he gets to hang out with his family, coming home and early, and taking the next day off. You’d all build the best of pillow and blankets, angle it next to the tv, pop popcorn and make other snacks, having movie marathons, and talking about parts of childhood (well, some of the memory’s Michael could grab at least.)
=
”I remember— i remember how i met your father, it was so ridiculous—.” You snickered, your legs criss-crossed, throwing some popcorn in your mouth. Michael laid on his side, covering his face as he remembered the story. “…he… he was practicing at the dance studio my father worked at.. and, and when i walked in, he fell right on his butt—… and we were the only two kids in the room, well.. really the only two people, so we just both died of laughter, and then we just.. been together since.” You giggled out, still chewing the popcorn in your mouth, as your children laughed, Michael tickling their stomach, a grin spreading across his face. “you laughing at your daddy falling?” He smiled, shifting a little, causing the pillow fort to shuffle a bit.
˙⋆✮🍂DAD!MICHAEL!: who, if he could, get you pregnant with 18 kids, which sounds like stretch but it’s true. Everytime he sees you with your children, feeding them, reading them a story, etc, he can’t help but want oneee more, or two, or three.
=
you squatted next to the kids bed while you read them a story, kids tucked under the soft and comfortable duvet, eyes resting under the lid, in taking the words that fell from your lips. They had requested Peter Pan, again. Their dad quite literally engraving it into their brains, as you finished the book with a quiet close of the book, you stood up, dusting your pajamas from imaginary crumbs, turning around to walk to the door, which you were quickly met with Michael’s lean frame, leaning against the door frame. You quickly jumped, not expecting him to be there, as your hand rested on your chest. “ ‘did not expect you to be right there..” You whispered, more to yourself, than him. To which he just chuckled, his teeth slipping from his mouth to bite his lip. “One more.” He stated, which left you confused. “…We can fit a crib inside our room.” He noted to himself, his back fully to the bed frame now, to which you sighed, pushing past him. “oh, absolutely not.”
BONUS STORY:
It must’ve been so hilarious to him, to see you so oozy on drugs. Medical drugs, of course. You were about to birth your first child, the first one to make you a mommy, the first to make Michael a daddy, your angel. And, all Michael could worry about, was teasing you, pressing the camera in your face. “on a scale from 1-10–“ Michael started which you quickly shut him up, pushing the camera back from your face, and shoving it into his chest. The next clip shown Michael in the corner of the hospital room, your screams of agony roaring through the air, and the faint sounds of “push!” echoed. Then, it stopped, little gasps came out, and for the first time you’ve entered this hospital, you felt you could actually breath. The last clip was you smiling, finally getting a calm moment between you and your baby, the baby laying against your bare skin, as you admired them. Michael coo’d an incoherent mumble, before quickly dropping the camera, going to attend to his new born baby.
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a/n : tyyy for the request, this lowk took all day to write, again it’s my fault bc i need to manage my time better 💔 ima go work on some other fics so yall won’t be hungry for longggg !
summary: after weeks of you and michael butting heads about him being absent and you and your kids lives, michael finally makes it up to you
contents/warnings: martial problems, cold shoulder/silent treatment, you guys have kids, soft!dom michael, angst, absent!michael, fighting, language (barely), eventual smut, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), not proofread, hand holding, needy!michael, pathetic! michael, sweet talking, basically michael begging the whole entire time for you to forgive him, ect
word count: 1.8k+
w/a: omg i’m so sorry i’ve been gone from writing fics for so long, genuinely don’t know what happened. this fic is heavily inspired by @7typicaln7gga7 on tt, go check out her content i love her sm
the house had never felt this quiet before. not because the kids weren’t loud, they definitely were. toys were scattered across the living room floor, cartoons hummed from the television, and little footsteps constantly echoed through the halls. but between you and michael, there was silence where love used to sit comfortably. days would pass with barely more than a few tired words exchanged. “dinner’s in the microwave.” “i’ll be home late.” “the kids already went to sleep.” that was it. you used to wait up for him. at first, you understood the long studio nights, the meetings, the rehearsals. he was michael jackson, the world constantly needed pieces of him. But eventually it stopped feeling like sacrifice and started feeling like abandonment. especially when your children began asking questions.
“is daddy coming to my recital?” “can daddy tuck me in tonight?” “why does daddy always work?” and every single time, your heart cracked a little more trying to answer for him. so the arguments started.
“you’re never fucking here, michael! you weren’t even there when our babies took their first steps.” you yelled across the bedroom, almost sure you can hear yourself from all the way outside. but you didn’t care at the moment, you were so frustrated with michael that you couldn’t control your emotions like how you usually do. “baby im sorry, but i’m doing this for us, and you should already know that by now.” he snapped back, his voice sharper and firmer than usual. “but we don’t have you here, what aren’t you getting goddamn it, you act like you’re not a vital person in our kids lives, in my life.” shaking your head while holding back tears, after a few seconds you storm out the room, spending the night in the one of the few guest rooms. the worst part was how exhausted he always looked afterward. like he wanted to fight for the marriage but didn’t know how anymore.
today was no different. he’d come home late again, shoulders slumped beneath a black button up, curls falling messily around his face. he barely had time to step inside before one of the kids ran to him. “daddy!” michael immediately scooped them into his arms, kissing their cheek repeatedly while apologizing softly for being late. you watched from the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. he looked over at you then, and paused. instead of your usual oversized shirt and leggings, you wore the dress. the one he loved.
soft purple fabric hugging your body perfectly, your hair done, perfume lingering sweetly through the house. nothing overly dramatic, you just looked beautiful. effortlessly beautiful. michael stared for a second too long. “wow…” he muttered quietly. he looked you up and down, biting his lip at the sight of your curves, basically undressing you with his eyes. the longer it went on for the more horny he got, but knowing you guys weren’t on good terms and you probably wouldn’t help him with his straining hard on, he snapped out of it. you definitely noticed his body language, essentially begging for you. but you simply turned away. “dinner’s on the stove.” the dismissal stung him immediately. still, throughout the evening, his eyes never left you. while helping the kids wash their hands, cutting up fruit at the counter, laughing softly when your youngest nearly spilled juice everywhere. you moved through the house like sunlight he hadn’t stood in for months, and it hit him hard. this was what he’d been missing. not glamorous parties. not screaming crowds. not sold out arenas. this, you, his family.
later that night, the kids were asleep and the room was dark except for the faint moonlight slipping through the curtains. you laid on your side of the bed facing away from him, leaving a noticeable gap between your bodies. michael laid there quietly for a long time. then the mattress shifted, you felt him move closer. his fingers brushed against your arm before he leaned forward, pressing the softest kiss against your bare shoulder. your breath caught despite yourself. michael rested his forehead lightly against your back, voice barely above a whisper. “are you awake baby?” it took you awhile to answer but how could you ignore him when he’s all up on you like this? “yes michael, what’s wrong.” “ im sorry, i’m so tired of this.” silence. “i don’t know what’s been happening to us lately…” his voice cracked slightly. “but i miss you so much.” your eyes closed. “i miss talking to you. i miss you laughing with me. i miss holding you without feeling like you’re slipping away from me.” his hand gently intertwined with yours beneath the blanket. “please i wanna make this right, let me make this right.” he says pressing long sloppy kisses along your side, slowly trailing down. and for the first time in months, you didn’t pull away.
he gradually makes his way down towards your black laced panties, after not seeing you like this in weeks hes practically drooling at the sight of your wetness in front of his face. “god… you don’t know how much i needed you these past few weeks, i-i could barley control myself, knowing you didn’t want me back… it hurt me so badly.” he’s sucking the inside of your thighs, leaving marks of himself on you. “please talk to me darling, i need to hear you right now, i crave you so badly, please im begging you.” that familiar pout creeping on his face. “michael, fuck, just get it over with.” youre surprisingly still are feisty with him, still giving him attitude. “don’t be mad at me anymore, please angel, let me prove to you that im sorry.” he licks a clean swipe across your growing damp spot of your underwear. you’re squirming under this delicate touch, god you missed this so much, you missed the way he took care of you, especially during nights like this.
he pulls your panties to the side with trembling fingers, revealing your glistening pussy. your clit is swollen and begging for attention. michael leans in slowly, inhaling the scent of your arousal with a shaky breath. “oh, my love…” he whispers softly, voice barely above a broken murmur. “look at you… so wet for me. even after everything I’ve done.” he presses a gentle kiss right above your clit, then another on your inner thigh, like he’s afraid to rush this. his hand finds yours, fingers sliding between yours and squeezing tightly, anchoring himself to you. “i’m so sorry, baby,” he breathes, lips brushing against your soaked folds. “i’m so, so sorry for leaving you alone all those nights… for not being the husband you deserve. please… please let me make it up to you. let me show you how much I love you.”
before you can respond, his tongue drags slowly up your slit, savoring every drop of you. a soft, needy whimper escapes his throat. “god… you taste like heaven,” he murmurs against you, voice thick with emotion. “i’ve missed you so much. missed this. missed us.” he laces your fingers even tighter together as he begins to worship you with his mouth. his tongue moves in slow, loving circles around your clit, gentle but relentless, occasionally dipping down to lick long stripes through your folds. every movement full of devotion. “please forgive me, angel,” he whispers between soft licks, his voice cracking. “i was wrong… I was so wrong for putting everything else before you and the kids. I hate myself for making you feel unloved.” he sucks your clit into his warm mouth with care, tongue fluttering softly. “please… please let me prove i can be better. i need you back. i need my wife back.”
you moan quietly, your free hand gripping through his soft curls as your hips roll against his face. michael lets out a broken, grateful sound and squeezes your hand harder, refusing to let go. “talk to me, darling,” he begs softly, lips glistening with your wetness. “please… i need to hear your voice. tell me you still want me. even a little.” He pushes two fingers inside you slowly, curling them gently against that perfect spot while his tongue continues its tender assault on your clit. “i’ll do anything… anything to earn your forgiveness. just please don’t shut me out anymore.” tears sting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure and the raw vulnerability in his voice. he’s never sounded so open, so desperate. “fuck michael, you feel so good, j-just like that.” you moan out, back arching off the sheets. “i love you,” he murmurs, voice pleading as he laps at you slowly, savoring you. “i love you more than anything in this world. you and our babies… you’re my everything. i was a fool. a selfish fool.” he kisses your clit sweetly, then sucks it with aching tenderness.
“please, baby… please forgive me. let me spend every night from now on showing you how sorry i am.” his fingers move in a slow, deep rhythm while his mouth stays glued to your clit, sucking and licking with loving devotion. the wet, intimate sounds of him devouring you fill the room, mixed with his soft, continuous pleas.
“cum for me, my love… please,” he begs, voice trembling. “let me taste you. let me feel you fall apart for me again. i’ve missed it so badly. i’ve missed you so badly.” the combination of his skilled mouth, his gentle fingers, and his heartbreakingly soft begging pushes you over the edge. your orgasm washes over you in deep, powerful waves. “m-michael!!” you cry out his name, thighs trembling around his head as you squeeze his hand tightly. michael moans softly in pure relief, licking you through every pulse, drinking you down like he’s been dying of thirst.
when your body starts to relax, he continues placing the gentlest kisses all over your sensitive pussy and inner thighs, murmuring against your skin. “thank you… thank you for letting me touch you again,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion. he finally crawls up your body, still holding your hand, and rests his forehead against yours. His dark eyes are glassy, full of love and regret. “i’m begging you, baby… please forgive me,” he says softly, brushing his lips against yours in a feather-light kiss. “i’ll never make you or the kids feel alone again. i swear it. just give me one more chance to be the man you married. please, my love… say you’re still mine.” he waits, breathing softly against your lips, thumb gently stroking the back of your hand, completely vulnerable and open, waiting for your answer. “yes michael, i forgive you… im still yours, i love you so much.” his eyes softened, kissing you gently again and again, “but i’m still not proving to you that i’m sorry.” he fiddles with his waist band, pulling his pants down. your eyes widen, this is going to be a long night.
w/a: AHAHA this was so hot, i’m back doe did yall miss me 👀 lol but i hope you enjoyed this!!!
warnings: fluff, domestic michael, soft michael, tiny bit of crack humor, overprotective michael, affectionate michael, deep voice michael, not proofread
• Michael REALLY tried to be strict sometimes but was terrible at keeping a straight face around his babies. He would walk into a room and see marker all over the walls and immediately go into “dad mode” and cross his arms trying to look serious. But if the second one of them started to pout at him or try not to cry, he would totally crack.
• During this time, Michael would always come home exhausted from rehearsals but no matter how tired he was, he would still tuck everyone into bed himself. Sometimes he'd still have eyeliner smudged under his eyes, voice rough from singing all day, but he'd still sit there rubbing backs until everybody was asleep. One night he accidentally fell into his deep voice
“Go to sleep, little one.”
“…Daddy?”
“Mhm?”
“Where did that voice come from??”
Michael stopped moving immediately.
Another voice:
“Do it again.”
He instantly switched back to the softer voice.
“What voice?”
“You sounded scary”
Michael started laughing into his hand.
“That’s just daddy’s normal voice, baby.”
“You have TWO voices??”
• His babies were absolutely obsessed with his curls. Always pulling on them, wrapping them around tiny fingers, laying on his chest while playing with them absentmindedly. Michael pretended to complain about it dramatically, but secretly he loved every second of it. He liked the feeling of being close to them so half the time he’d just sit there and let them mess his hair up completely
• Music played constantly in that house. Michael hated silence. Old Motown records, rehearsal tracks, funk music, soul music, demos he was working on there was ALWAYS something playing somewhere. And the second he realized one of the babies could catch rhythm, he acted like it was the greatest moment of his life. The baby started kicking to the beat while Michael held them against his chest.
Michael gasped.
“Did you SEE that??”
You looked over from the couch.
“See what?”
“He’s dancing!”
“Oh my God.”
“That’s my baby right there.”
You started laughing.
“Michael, he’s literally six months old.”
“No you didnt see, he caught the rhythm.”
• Michael spoiled his babies terribly and you had to stop him sometimes. Toys, stuffed animals, candy, little outfits, random animals for Neverland. If they looked at something for more than five seconds, Michael already wanted to buy it.
• Because of how he grew up, Michael was incredibly emotionally gentle as a father. He never wanted his children to feel scared of him. If they cried, he didn’t yell or tell them to “toughen up.” He’d immediately kneel down to their level, wipe their tears, and actually talk to them.
“What’s wrong?”
“Talk to daddy.”
And he listened.
• Michael turned EVERYTHING into a song. Brushing teeth? Song. Cleaning up toys? Song. Bedtime? Song. He’d make up ridiculous little songs about absolutely nothing and get everybody in the house singing along with him.
• Everybody climbed all over him constantly and Michael secretly loved it. Sitting in his lap while he worked on music, falling asleep on him during studio sessions.
• Michael absolutely talked about wanting a HUGE family like it was the most normal thing in the world, and every single time he brought it up, you looked at him like he’d completely lost his mind.
One night he was sitting on the couch with a baby asleep on his chest while another played with his hair.
“Y’know…”
“I think I want more.”
You looked up.
“More what?”
Michael smiled.
“Babies.”
You stared at him.
“…Michael.”
He started counting on his fingers.
“Okay so maybe…”
“Eighteen?”
You blinked very slowly.
“EIGHTEEN??”
Michael looked confused by your reaction.
“What?”
“That’s not THAT many.”
“Michael Joseph Jackson, that is an entire classroom.”
“But imagine Christmas though.”
“No, absolutely not.”
Michael started laughing.
“C’mon, we make cute babies though.”
• If one of them fell asleep somewhere, Michael refuses to wake them. Didn’t matter how tired he was or how awkward the position was, he carried them himself every single time.
And whenever somebody offered to help:
“No, I got them.”
• More than anything, Michael just wanted his children to have the kind of magical childhood he never fully got to experience himself. Treehouses. Animals. Movie nights. Staying up too late eating sweets. Running barefoot through Neverland. Bedtime stories. Falling asleep safely in their father’s arms while soft music played through the house.
thinking about Michael as a dad actually makes me emotional every single time I write him like this (I wish he had gotten more time with his kids, now I'm sad again)
where old home videos get leaked online 😭and the internet becomes obsessed with:
- little reader dancing in Michael’s shoes
- Janet dressing her up like a doll
- Michael carrying her EVERYWHERE
- family interviews where the brothers can’t stop talking about her
Reader is mortified while the family finds it hilarious
please and thank you (take care)
EMBARRASSING VIDEOS
JACKSON FAMILY X JACKSON!READER
When home videos got leaked out to the public, you can’t help but be embarrassed and mortified.
-HOME VIDEO 1 (age 6)
The footage is seen where someone is doing a small tour video of Hayvenhurst. Suddenly the video skips over to show inside a house, where, music was playing as a young Michael, Randy, and Janet were peeking in someone’s room.
The three snickered, it seemed Michael had ‘lost’ his shoes. The camera turns to the room they are looking in.
There was a young black girl with two puff buns who was trying to do some dances in big black loafers. The young black girl seemed to be smiling widely before falling on her back.
The three older siblings laughed, making the young girl realize what had just happened, and she then screamed at them out of embarrassment.
“GET OUT!”
“WE AIN'T EVEN IN YOUR ROOM LIL TIGER!” Randy exclaimed, running after the young girl who had thrown her stuffed animal. Janet runs after Randy and Michael goes into his little sister's room.
It’s revealed that the one recording was of Marlon who chuckled seeing Michael try to get his shoes back only for the young girl to pout.
“Cmon… hand them over, y/n,” Michael says, speaking softly while the young frowns.
The girl finally gave the shoes to which Michael gave her a hug and ran off.
-HOME VIDEO 2 (age 4)
Janet is smiling widely, smiling in a princess dress while you stare at her blankly with embarrassment on your face.
“You look so pretty, n/n!” She exclaimed, dusting your dress while you pouted as your small body looked at the camera that was zooming in on the poofy dress as Janet laughed.
“I don't wanna be dressed up…” you said, your tiny voice slurring some words. You usually like to wear shorts and some shirts that mostly kiddy thanks to Michael using his own money along with the brothers spoiling you.
“But you’re so pretty, y/n!” Janet explained happily.
The camera turned to your face, and it was true that you looked like a complete doll. Like a beautiful baby doll that needs to be cared for.
Your small body plopped against a chair seat as Janet and you started to have a small tea party.
-HOME VIDEO 3 (age 4-6)
Michael is carrying you across the studio shown in the video, you held a small Minnie Mouse doll while Michael swiped his hand over your mouth.
Dusting crumbs from the snack he had given you earlier.
“Does he ever put her down?” The person behind the camera asks.
“Not really,” John says, watching how Michael shows you the thriller video in the making. “They’re attached to the hip. It’s like they’re connected, mostly Michael.” John points to how Michael put you down and you ran after him goofily.
Michael laughed, falling dramatically as his Jheri curls were messy.
You tackled him, your small body falling limp against his horizontal body. You giggled loudly before Michael tickled you.
“He carries her around so much, most people would’ve thought that’s his daughter.”
The video shows Michael walking Louie with you on the llama’s back, smiling widely as you giggle.
It then cuts to Michael having you on his back, your arms wrapped around his neck while you look at whatever is going on as Michael seems focused along with his team.
Most of the clips showed him carrying you around from the ages of four to six.
At the clip showing you were six, you told Michael something and Michael lifted you, doing the mom hip thing while you tried to get out of his grip.
“You’re still my baby!” Michael exclaimed, letting the audio pick up while you yelled for him to stop with an embarrassed smile.
-HOME VIDEO 4 (age 9)
The boys are being interviewed, each camera panning over each brother as Michael is looking bored with Marlon who is turning in his spinning chair slightly.
Randy seemed to be distracted as he was once again asked how he joined his brothers.
Jackie and Tito are nodding along to some of the questions.
Jermaine was answering a question, “Yes, the tour was amazing. Honestly, we love our fans and hope to see them next time.” Jermaine said with a smile.
The interviewer smiles with a nod before saying what they shouldn’t have said.
“ I heard you boys have a little sister who’s new to the family, how old is she now?”
Michael sat up immediately with a smile, “She’s nine now, but she’s still a baby in our eyes.”
Jackie chuckled, “She’s like an old lady in a child’s body. She reads any room even if she wasn’t in there before.”
The camera pans to Tito who smiled with a nod, “She’s a fierce little girl, we call her ‘lil tiger’ since she likes to be tough even though she’s cute like a doll.”
“Oh don’t forget when we dressed her up as a mummy for her first Halloween!” Randy called out, and the boys started to laugh.
“She clearly didn’t like the toilet paper Marlon put around her,” Jermaine says, rubbing his hands and leaning forward. Getting comfortable with how the subject was now about you.
“Boys?” The interviewer spoke, not aware of the chaos they had just released since the boys are gushing over their adorable little sister.
“She still likes to cling to me,” Michael said with a proud smile, although he wasn’t trying to flex that he knew you were more clingy with him ever since you were a baby.
“Yes, but that’s because you kept sneaking her into your room and making her listen to your books,” Jackie called out, pointing to Michael who laughed.
“Uh, boys!” The interviewer said louder, making the conversation about you end as they all looked at them confused.
“You all must really care for your little sister!” The interviewer said nervously.
“Absolutely!” They all said simultaneously.
This was the interview that made everyone curious about you.
aftermath- And now here you are at the age of 24 embarrassed as Michael had you sit by him when the internet showed all the videos.
“Are you serious??!” You exclaimed, your face showed pure embarrassment looking at your older brother who laughed clapping his hands.
And all of this was just leaked.
|| Michael’s left toenail: omg!! Y/n must’ve been so adorable!
||queenofloving: Michael being a father and brother to his little sister is so cute!
||michaelsshoes: wishing I were his little sister so I could be carried 24/7
|| username 91793: the family bond with Janet and y/n is what my sister and I need.
Is what the comments had read while you were just too embarrassed and mortified to even say anything anymore.
: ̗̀➛: just small headcannons about how you guys would be in a interview together (you’re known for your career, whether it would be a singer, dancer, actress, etc, but you ARE famous!)
: ̗̀➛: suggestiveness, that’s about it everything is pretty mellow, some fluff maybe?
: ̗̀➛: any era michael!!
————————————————————————
𐙚⋆.˚: You guys would be so goofy together, multiple times where the interviewer has to stop and wait for you guys, you guys are a laughing mess.
“Wait— wait y/n.. focus focus..!” he huffed out? trying to catch his breath from all his laughing, grabbing onto your arm for stability.
Don’t let it be any awkward silence, either.. it’s just an opening for a laughing fit.
————————————————————————
𐙚⋆.˚:: Michael is more media trained than you, it’s so obvious, whenever the interviewer blurts out an stupid question, you can’t help but make a crazy face expression, or maybe even whisper something under your breath.
“So, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, we know you guys are.. together, but can we get more into.. that?” The interviewer asked, scooting more closer towards you guys.
“I mean, what do you mean?” Michael asked, his legs crossed, laid back in the seat.
You knew how this was gonna play out.. you just prayed this lady didn’t ask what you thought she was going too ask.
“I mean, how’s the sex life? Is it more complicated to—“
“What??” You immediately cut her off, your face scrunched up, and the audience laughing. Michael grabbed your hand, trying to calm you down.
“That is the most idiotic question you can ask someone, i mean who asks how someone else’s sex is going? Do you want to have—“
“Commercial break, please?” Michael whispered, looking at the cameras.
————————————————————————
𐙚⋆.˚:: Following up with the goofy matter, Michael was a bugaboo. Whenever you tried to start to get serious, here comes Michael, acting a fool. It was sometimes annoying, but you genuinely couldn’t be mad at him for long.
“So, Y/N, I saw you debuted for your new (wtv u want your career to be about), you want to explain to us more about it!”
The interviewer asked.
You sat up, your hands tapping at your lap as you were in thought.
“The hard work… the dedication and everything me and my team put in this.. it was a lot— i mean production took forever and—“
You cut yourself off, seeing Michael put his fingers behind your head, doing bunny ears, giving him a harsh glare. He quickly faltered, putting his hands down and back in his lap.
“…I uhm, it was tough, but i just.. i didn’t stop—“
“Don’t stop till you get enough~!” Michael sung out, quickly cutting you off, it was on accident, maybe.
“Michael.” You mumble, before he quickly scoots down in his seat, slightly embarrassed.
————————————————————————
𐙚⋆.˚:: If you guys were to play a game during the interview, for example “who knows eachother more?” It would get so competitive, the crowd intrigued into the situation.
“Michael! You’re not gonna sit here and act like your favorite food wasn’t sushi! You’re just lying for the cameras!” You exclaimed, holding a white board with his “favorite food” on it.
“Baby you KNOW i like KFC!” he exclaimed, a hand covering his face.
-
“Uhmm… if i had to guess, there favorite song of mines would be… “Rock with you?” Michael would hold up the white board with the name written down on it.
“Wrongggg! It’s girlfriend!” You giggled, holding up the whiteboard, a cheeky smirk on your face.
“What?! When was it ever “Girlfriend?!” He jumped up, his hands covering his forehead.
————————————————————————
𐙚⋆.˚; his fans absolutely adore you, whenever a interview comes out with both of you, the media goes crazy, they love you guys and your relationship.
————————————————————————
ookayy guys thatsss it i hope ygs like it lmk 😛😛 also im not proofreading this so if there’s mistakes js ignore it..
the thought of !thriller era michael being overly obsessed with going down on you ever since you let him,
Ever since you let michael go down on you, it’s all he’s wanted to do. In the studio while producing music, after a hard day, even on the phone.
He’d be on the line to his mother, filling her in with information about work, tours etc. All the while he’d have your legs spread wide open on his king size bed, phone propped between his shoulder & ear as he let his feet hang in the air giving your cunt all the love & attention it needs as he strokes your inner thighs. You’d always tell him to stop that, saying it’s disrespectful — he never listened to you.
He’d give you one straight lick up your slit, lapping & sucking on your clit, eyes shut in pure bliss — right where he wanted to be, absolutely pussy drunk.
You’d let out little whimpers n’ squeals as he’d rub your clit occasionally.
“Shh,” he’d hiss, covering the phone with his hand.
