Michael was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands covering his face, trying to slow down the heartbeat that still echoed loudly in his chest. The linen sheets beside him still held the warmth of your body, a physical reminder that, just a few minutes ago, the outside world had ceased to exist.
There, between desperate touches and breathless moans, you had just completed exactly one year of your clandestine arrangement. An entire year of stolen moments, whispered promises in the dark, and a longing that seemed to eat away at his soul every time he walked out that door and returned to his lonely reality.
From the bathroom came the sound of running water. You were in there, probably touching up your makeup or simply taking a few extra minutes to face your reflection in the mirror before putting back on the armor that society and your family demanded you wear.
He hated the moment when the woman who surrendered herself to him so passionately transformed once again into the heiress of an industrial empire, the wife of convenience chosen by her parents to merge two powerful corporations. Your marriage had never been built on love; it was a business contract. And Michael, ironically one of the most desired and successful actors in the world, was the best-kept secret behind that.
He tried to control. He closed his eyes and told himself that the time you spent together should be enough, but the truth was that he was falling apart inside. Michael could no longer be the man who wore disguises to enter discreet hotels, the secret you could never share with anyone. He wanted to hold you in public and tell the whole world how deeply he loved you.
Then your phone vibrated. Twice.
Michael opened his eyes. The device was right there within reach. He knew privacy was a golden rule between the two of you, a boundary he had never dared cross during those twelve months. But mental exhaustion, accumulated frustration, and the pain of yet another goodbye acted faster than reason. He reached out and picked up the phone.
The screen lit up, revealing the recent notifications. The first message was from your spouse.
The text was so cold that Michael felt his stomach twist.
"The agenda for the meeting with the Brazilian shareholders has been finalized. We'll have a dinner tomorrow, so I need you to be there. My assistant will send you the details."
No question about where you were. No trace of affection.
Feeling a mix of anger and morbid curiosity, Michael swiped across the screen and realized the phone wasn't locked. He opened the messaging app and searched for your conversation. He wanted to see how your love was preserved there. He needed that comfort.
But what he found became the final spark that ignited his collapse.
The passionate messages, the intimate photos, the deepest declarations he had ever made to another human being were all stored under a fake corporate contact name.
At the top of the screen, where his name or at least a loving nickname should have been, there was only the name of a financial consulting company.
Michael dropped the phone onto the bed as though it had burned him.
He jumped to his feet, jaw clenched, breathing hard and uneven. The humiliation of seeing his love reduced to a business disguise to protect your marriage of appearances shattered the last fragment of patience he had left.
The bathroom door opened. You stepped out wearing a robe, your hair slightly messy and your expression soft. But your smile faltered the moment you saw Michael's face.
The vulnerability that usually lived in his eyes had disappeared, replaced by a cold, cutting rigidity.
"Michael? What happened?" you asked, taking a step forward, instinctively worried.
He didn't answer immediately. He simply pointed at the phone glowing on the bed.
"How long have I been a consulting company in your contacts?"
His voice was low, but the intensity behind it made you freeze. You looked at the phone and then back at him, the color draining from your face.
"Michael... you went through my phone? You know why it's like that. It's for security. If Dave gets ahold of it, if someone in my family sees it..."
"Security?" Michael let out a bitter laugh, taking two steps toward you, his eyes locked on yours. "One year. We've been together for one year. I've given you my heart in a way I've never given it to anyone. I rearrange my schedule. I dodge paparazzi. I hide like I'm committing a crime... and my entire existence in your life is reduced to a corporate disguise?"
"It's to protect us!" you shot back, raising your voice for the first time, desperation taking hold. "You know how my family works. You know my marriage is an agreement that supports my father's companies. If there's a scandal, if people find out about us, everything falls apart! My whole world comes crashing down, Michael!"
"And what about my world?" he fired back, his voice now echoing through the room. "What happens to my world? I spend my days pretending I'm okay. Do you know how much it hurt having to celebrate Christmas with you on December 26th instead of Christmas Day because you had to be there pretending to be happy? I just read his message. He treats you like an employee. You're living a dry, empty lie without a single ounce of love! And you accept it because of a damn last name and a family agreement!"
"You don't understand the pressure I'm under!" Tears streamed down your cheeks. "I love you. I love everything we have. I wish things were different. I wish I could tell everyone you're my man, but I can't just throw away my life and my family's stability!"
"Then don't."
Michael's voice dropped into a deadly calm whisper. He turned his back on you and began collecting his clothes from the floor.
"Keep your stability. Keep your business marriage. Keep being the perfect wife for the cameras."
"What are you doing?" you cried, rushing toward him and grabbing his arm. "Michael, please don't do this. Let's not fight about this now. We have so little time together..."
Michael stopped. He looked at your hand on his arm and then into your eyes.
The anger was gone.
Only exhaustion and heartbreak remained. Gently but firmly, he removed your hand.
"That's exactly the problem. We always have so little time. And I'm tired of accepting the scraps that are left over."
He pulled on his shirt and grabbed his coat.
"I thought that with time you'd realize what we have is real enough to fight for. I thought our one-year anniversary meant we were moving toward something. But seeing my name hidden like that woke me up. I'm the affair. I'm the convenient secret that gives you the affection your husband can't provide so you can survive the rest of your perfect week."
"That's not true! I love you, Michael!" you pleaded, openly sobbing as you followed him into the penthouse living room. "Please don't leave like this. We can talk. We can figure something out..."
Michael stopped near the front door.
He slipped his hands into his coat pockets, standing tall once more like the powerful man the rest of the world knew. But his eyes still betrayed the devastation within.
"There's no solution, honey. If I can't have you completely, if I can't hold your hand and take you out to dinner, then it's not worth it. I refuse to keep sharing the woman I love."
"Michael..." Your plea died in your throat as he grasped the doorknob.
"I hope your family's stock prices keep rising," he said with one last sad, disillusioned smile. "Because they cost us our love. Bye..."
The door opened and closed with a soft click. Yet in the silence of the apartment, it sounded like a gunshot.
You ran to the window, pressing your forehead against the cold glass as rain poured relentlessly over the city. A few minutes later, you watched a black car with tinted windows disappear into the misty night, carrying away the man who had been the only real thing in your life of appearances.
♡ Sinopse: “Toda a carência que você sente por Michael só é dissipada (mesmo que aos pouquinhos) quando você o tem vivo e presente, juntinho a si, inteiro em você.”
♡ Gênero: Smut, + 18, literatura adulta
♡ Avisos: Michael B. Jordan x Você — mas aqui você não é mencionado como (S/N), certo? Apenas por apelidos carinhosos como “amor”, “vida”, “linda” e por aí vai… Você chama o Michael de “Mike”.
♡ Notas da autora: Esse homem alugou um triplex de luxo na minha cabeça. Estou totalmente rendida a ele, então é aquilo… não teve jeito, não consegui resistir e tive que escrever com ele.
Michael B. Jordan deveria ser um elogio, sabe? Tipo… “Cara, você tá muito Michael B. Jordan hoje.”
Isso daqui tá o puro suco do flop (e a autora aqui tem noção disso), mas sinceramente espero que tenha ao menos um coraçãozinho. 🩷
O corpo corpulento de Michael me acolhe de forma calorosa e familiar. Seu corpo é como um corpo casa, ouso dizer, minha casa particular. E é bom senti-lo assim, depois de tanto tempo longe.
Genuinamente, sinto, a quentura aconchegante que irradia do seu corpo grande, ricocheteando de um jeitinho bom, ao sentir, contra o meu, que emana um nível de carência absurdamente alto e exageradamente exagerado — tudo em uma dose elevada de desespero — por ele em cada poro meu.
Seus braços enormes e mãos fortes e calejadas serpenteiam e vagueiam de forma despretensiosa ao redor do meu corpo, permitindo-me sentir a textura e a maciez aveludada de cada relevo dos seus músculos deliciosos, deslizando sobre minha pele nua, no vai e vem incessante de suas mãos inquietas.
Seu peitoral, esculpido por um amontoado de carne voluptuosa — consequência boa de sua disciplina e idas mais do que excessivas à academia — comprime gostosamente meus seios contra sua fortaleza de músculos, em um abraço apertado demais, a ponto de quase me deixar sem fôlego, não deixando lacunas visíveis entre nós.
Estamos grudados como se tivéssemos sido colados – um ao outro — por uma supercola.
Um suspiro longo e preguiçoso escapa do meu ser, carente em demasia por ele — como já foi mencionado — apreciando mais do que o necessário cada gesto e movimento dele na minha pele.
Estamos nus, desprovidos de roupas, como uma obra renascentista exposta em um museu renomado e visitado por turistas ao redor do mundo. Só que o nosso museu é o nosso quarto, a nossa cama.
Estou pairada ao alcance dos seus olhos, assim como ele está ao alcance dos meus, admirando cada vertente do seu rosto bonito e pleno, muito bem acomodada em suas coxas fartas, fingindo — com certa falha — não sentir seu pau pincelando suavemente a entrada molhada da minha bucetinha, enquanto reprimo meus gemidinhos com mordidinhas nos lábios, encarando-o.
A carne dos meus lábios se solta lentamente quando sua boca roça a minha, beijando-me.
— Porra, amor…
Ele suspirou baixinho, com a boca colada à minha, quando a cabecinha avantajada e roxa do seu membro me invadiu sorrateira. Mas, para o meu desespero (e desejo desenfreado), ele não se afundou completamente. Eu gemi tão baixinho quanto seu suspiro, frustrada.
— Posso meter tudo, baby? — inquiriu com os olhinhos brilhando, num pedido ansioso. — Hmmm? Posso, amor? — reforçou o pedido, mordendo meus lábios de propósito e soltando-os com lentidão, de maneira torturante, gemendo com a boca colada na minha quando a minha resposta demorou a sair. — Amor…? — sua voz era de pura súplica.
— Pode, Mike... mete tudinho em mim, amor! — assenti freneticamente, em uma concordância necessitada e afoita, fazendo um biquinho choroso. — Mete em mim... — pedi, sussurrando em seu ouvido, mordendo o lóbulo da sua orelha.
Seu pau entrou um pouquinho mais, lentamente, preguiçoso e perigoso, centímetro por centímetro se afundando no tempo certo dentro da minha cavidade quente e ‘vergonhosamente’ úmida — por ele. Minhas paredes internas se abriram com graciosidade ao redor do falo grande e pesado dele, recebendo-o e acomodando-o fundo e por inteiro ali.
Um arrepio percorreu todo o meu corpo com a sensação esplendorosa de tê-lo dentro de mim. Minha buceta se molda perfeitamente ao seu pau.
— Michael... — gemi manhosa, escondendo meu rosto na curva do seu pescoço, inalando seu cheirinho pós banho, banho tomado há minutos atrás. O cheirinho dele também me remete a casa.
Ouvi ele expirar todo o ar preso nos pulmões, suspirando dessa vez um pouco alto demais, mas ainda assim, ele permaneceu quieto, paradinho, imóvel dentro de mim, apreciando as sensações e os apertos que recebia em troca.
— Caralho! — gemeu, apertando meu corpo mais ainda.
Sem pressa alguma de se mover, ele poderia ficar quanto tempo quisesse assim, parado, morando em mim, que eu não me importaria, desde que eu pudesse senti-lo, duro e firme. Preso a mim.
Porque fazem exatamente duas semanas que eu não o sinto assim. Duas semanas que passaram lentas e melancólicas demais.
Foram dias e dias de tortura, de vazio, de dor pela ausência dele. E agora, bem… agora eu só quero ele dentro de mim, encaixadinho em mim, com minha buceta o apertando.
Porque minha buceta e minha memória pecaminosa sentiram e lembraram a dor do vazio da sua presença em mim ao longo dessas semanas. E agora, eu tenho a sua presença viva e pulsante dentro de mim, mas… bem mais fundo do que senti na última vez. E eu só o quero ali.
— Amor... — murmurei, com a voz abafada em sua pele, ainda escondida nele. E, conhecendo como me conheço, sei que não vou me afastar tão facilmente dele, da sua pele lar. Eu vou morar nele.
Não precisei responder, porque ele já sabia a resposta, mas ainda assim balbuciei, em meio ao êxtase das sensações que eu sentia ao ter o seu pau dentro de mim.
— Aham!
— Eu pensei que você estivesse desesperada para levar uma boa surra de pau, amor... Você se jogou nos meus braços igual a uma vagabunda sedenta por pica quando cheguei em casa, mas veja só... Parece que minha putinha não quer apanhar hoje, né? — ele zombou brincalhão e atrevido demais para minha carência.
— Eu só estava... — engoli o restante das palavras, parando para apreciar e sentir a maciez aveludada da sua pele quentinha em minha bochecha pressionada contra ela. — Eu só estou com saudades, Mike... Eu... eu amo tanto você, amor. — minhas mãos percorreram seus ombros largos lentamente, descendo até onde meu braço alcançava, arranhando suas costas levemente, sentindo sua pele sob minhas digitais. Ele reagiu suspirando, falhado e pesado.
— Então me enganei e você não quer uma surra de pau, do seu Mike? Poxa, linda! Qual é? Onde foi parar minha putinha... hein? — provocou ousado.
— Michael! Para de me provocar, vai… — repreendi com a voz chorosa e infantil demais, quase inaudível, mas ele ouviu e riu.
— Vai ficar escondidinha aí até quando?
— Eu só quero sentir seu pau assim, bem paradinho, dentro de mim, Mike… É tão bom... por favor, amor…
— Meu amor está carente, é? Tá carentinha de sentir o pau do seu homem morando dentro da sua bucetinha, é, linda? Você nem está no período fértil pra estar tão carente assim… porra, amor!
Ele conhece todas as nuances das minhas fases de carência, conhece minhas ações e reações diante do que ele me faz sentir sob seus toques quando estou assim, e sabe identificar todas — às vezes é humilhante descobrir, através disso, o quão carente por ele eu sou.
... sou extremamente carentinha por esse homem e pelo pau dele.
Como agora, por exemplo, ele percebeu, com seu jeito malandro e observador, que eu estou carente pelo seu pau, e não carente por causa do humilhante período fértil (que curiosamente já passou e, infelizmente… ele não estava em casa para me ajudar).
Ele percebeu, ou ao menos, eu espero que tenha percebido, que eu estou altamente bêbada de uma carência que se ganha e se intensifica quando ele fica fora de casa por dias a fio.
Que se ganha quando ele me impede de tê-lo só para mim. De tomá-lo em mim.
— Aham! Posso... amor? Por favor... — pedi.
— Pode, vida! Mas... só se você me deixar te foder bem gostosinho depois, você deixa, linda?
— Deixo, Mike... você pode me foder bem fundo e bem gostosinho depois… — murmurei com veemência.
A sensação de estar presa em seus braços, sentindo o seu pau morando em mim, era o sentimento que minha carência precisava sentir para ser dissipada aos pouquinhos. Para saciar todo o meu anseio de senti-lo assim, dentro de mim. Para me entregar por completo e me delietar inteira.
Meus dedos permaneciam dedilhando a pele das suas costas, descendo e subindo em uma dança lenta, enquanto eu permanecia escondida em seu pescoço, de olhos fechados, sentindo o contorno do seu comprimento viril em mim.
— Eu te amo, Mike... — segredei em sua pele cor de chocolate, no limite extremo do meu amor por ele.
The golden gleam of the Oscar statuette pulsed even brighter under the streetlights as the car glided down the road.
Inside the vehicle, the silence was filled only by the sound of kisses, Michael’s heavy breathing, and the rustle of his expensive tuxedo fabric against your silk dress. Thankfully, the car’s partition made it impossible for the driver to see what you two were doing.
He had won. The whole world had watched Michael B. Jordan walk up that stage, but only you knew how much he had trembled before hearing his own name. You saw how he had braced himself for loss, and how his soul seemed to leave and return to his body in the seconds after he was announced the winner.
It had been incredible to witness the process how Michael had dedicated himself to interpreting Smoke and Stack, the sleepless nights spent studying, and the long, deep conversations with Ryan.
That victory was more than deserved.
You were both drunk, not just from the expensive whiskeys at the after party, but from sheer adrenaline and happiness. When the car pulled up in front of your house, Michael could barely coordinate his feet. He held the statuette in one hand as if it were a newborn, while the other was wrapped firmly around your waist.
"I won... I can't believe it," he whispered against your neck as you walked through the yard toward the front door. "I really won this shit!" he suddenly shouted, starting to jump for joy, pulling you with him.
"You won, Mike. And you’re almost dropping it on the floor!," you laughed, trying to keep your balance and grabbing his wrist while he planted messy, damp kisses on your shoulder.
The moment the door opened, chaos ensued. Michael kicked it shut with his foot but accidentally hit the doorframe, making you both laugh even harder. With all the care in the world, he placed the statuette on a shelf in the living room and lunged toward you. His hands, large and warm, cupped your face with urgency.
"The way this dress makes you look even more beautiful is so unfair," he said, his eyes locking onto yours. "I’ve been struggling all day thinking about how much I wanted to fuck you."
"We have the whole night for that, don't we?" Your hands were already pulling at his tie, undoing the knot in a hurry.
"The whole night."
He kissed you with a hunger that left you breathless, a tangle of teeth, tongues, and the lingering taste of alcohol. His hands moved down to the zipper of your dress, struggling against the fine fabric with impaired motor skills but pure determination.
"Mike, wait, we’re going to fall," you managed between a moan and a laugh as he tripped over his own feet while trying to lead you toward the bedroom.
He managed to shed his jacket, tossing it somewhere in the hallway, while you tugged at his white shirt, popping buttons as you pulled it open. His skin was hot, his chest muscles defined and inviting. When you finally reached the bedroom, moonlight flooded the space, illuminating everything from floor to ceiling.
Michael laid you onto the sheets with a tenderness that was surprising for someone who could barely walk straight minutes before. He knelt between your legs, still in his trousers, watching you with an adoration that went far beyond physical desire.
"Thank you for being with me. Thank you for supporting me when I was being an idiot and doubting myself. Thank you for letting me be part of your life." he murmured, his kisses alternating between your neck and your bare breasts. "God, I’m the luckiest man in the world."
You pushed him back, making him lie on his back, and straddled him, grinding slowly.
"I love you so much."
You left a trail of kisses down his cheeks, his neck, and his chest where you gave him a light, playful bite, down to his waist. You unbuckled his belt and pulled his trousers and underwear down while keeping eye contact.
He sprang free, hard and aching for you.
"I’ll always be here to remind you of the incredible man you are, even when you forget it."
You coated your hand and began to stroke him, moving from tip to base without any rush.
"Now, let me thank you my way..." As you leaned down to take him into your mouth, his hands tangled in your hair, gently pulling your head up to look at him.
"Babe, I love when you do that, but I need you now. I feel like I'm going to explode."
He looked at you with those needy, longing eyes and didn't even wait for an answer. He pulled you up to sit on him again. Michael was so desperate he didn't even take off your white lace panties; he simply pushed them to the side and, without ceremony, drove deep inside you.
He didn't need it; you were already completely wet for him.
Both of you groaned loudly at the same time, feeling the heat of the friction. His hands went straight to your hips, guiding your movements.
"Just like that... fuuuck!" he growled.
"I love seeing you like this," you whispered, your left hand wrapping around his neck, applying slight pressure.
Your rhythm quickened, the sound of skin hitting skin growing louder. You purposely squeezed around him, knowing exactly how much he loved the sensation.
"You're trouble " he said, smirking through the pleasure.
Suddenly, he stood up with you still clinging to him. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck. He pushed open the bathroom door and walked inside, stopping in front of the vanity mirror. He set you down and turned you around.
Your hair was a complete mess, your lip liner was smudged, and your skin glistened with sweat.
"You're all mine," he rasped, massaging your breasts.
Michael leaned down to bite your ass, and as if it were nothing, he ripped you panties.
When he finally entered you again from behind, your eyes rolled back and you arched your spine, leaning against the counter for support. Michael moved with a raw intensity, his eyes fixed on yours in the reflection, chasing every reaction. The pace was frantic, matching the euphoria of the night. He whispered your name like a prayer, interspersed with dirty words that made your face flush and your body spark with pleasure.
Through the mirror, you watched him biting his lips, lost in the moment.
The climax hit you both like an overwhelming wave, leaving you trembling and breathless. Michael leaned his forehead against your back, both of you gasping for air.
When he finally pulled out, he lingered for a moment, admiring the cum drip.
"Look at what we did," he said, giving your ass a firm, playful swat before turning you around to face him.
"We are going to have a terrible hangover tomorrow." you murmured, closing your eyes as he lazily ran his hand through your hair.
"We definitely are, but it was worth it." he said, kissing the top of your head. "Everything was worth it today."
You smiled, leaning into his embrace, savoring the quiet for a few more moments before heading into the shower together.
Idk what it is I do he just so damn fine but I’ve been on a MBJ kick lately and I’ve read majority of his fics on here and needed something new. So I decided to add to the pile. It’s short but hopefully it gets you there as much as writing this did for me!!🤭🤭
Warnings: dirty talk, squirting. Spanking. Just SMUT. I about to ovulate sooooo that tells you everything you need to know.
If you see mistakes, no you didn’t 😂😂
Well anywaysssss I hope you enjoy ☺️
“There you go. Throw it back for me.”
Grunting. Wet skin slapping. Soft cries are all that can be heard as Michael continues to pound you from behind. Watching your ass ripple with each thrust has him biting his lip. He couldn’t get enough of you.
Your moans get louder as you tumble towards your 2nd orgasm of the night. He felt so good. SMACK! His hand comes down on your right cheek, making you clench around him.
“Mmmm, why you clenching me like that? It feels good, baby? Talk to me.” Michael says teasingly. Knowing what he’s doing. He knows all of your spots. Knows how to hit it each time, causing you to see stars. Pulling out, he flips you onto your back and pushes your knees forward. Spreading you open, he slowly slides his dick up and down your pussy. Coating himself in your juices. He gives your puffy clit a few taps before he slides back in slowly. You let out a loud, slow moan as he stretches you again. With you being this exposed, you feel every inch. Every vein from his dick.
“Always so wet and tight for me, mamas. This all for me?” He asked, smiling, already knowing the answer. Michael looks down at your scrunched face. Seeing pleasure written all over it. He takes pride in making you feel like this. Knowing no other man can. You’re his to love. He's to fuck. He's to ruin. Reaching down, he uses his thumb to strum your oversensitive clit, adding to the already strong strokes. Your eyes begin to cross as you feel your orgasm build again. Out of reflex, you reach a hand out, pushing on his stomach to try to get some space.
"Nah, you know better. Move that hand, ma. You can take it.” Whimpers fall from your lips. Tears begin to form from the pleasure. Then you feel something. Something is new, and you begin to panic.
"Daddy, I feel like I have to pee." You stutter out. You attempt to push him again, but he grabs your wrists in one hand, and with the other he uses it to make you watch as he continues to stroke you. Strokes that make you scream. You don’t even try to hold them back now. It feels too good.
Chuckling, Michael looks at where y'all are connected. Watching you cream on his dick. Hearing how wet you are with every slide. “It’s ok, baby. Let it out for Daddy. Be my good girl and cum for me.” Hearing him talk like this always got you there. His deep voice went straight to your clit. Then it happened. It was almost like it was slow motion.
You started to squirt.
Every stroke pulled more and more from you. Wetting yourself. His thighs. Making his dick shiny with your juices. He didn’t stop. He kept going. Sending your body into overload with pleasure. He kept hitting your spot over and over again. Your orgasm was loud. Wet. Messy. He loved it all.
“There you go, baby. Just like that. I feel good, baby?” You couldn’t even form a sentence as the last waves of your orgasm passed through your body. Michael's hips begin to stutter, and with a few more thrusts he’s spilling inside you. Coating your pussy with thick, hot ropes.
Pulling out, he watches as both of your juices combine and run down your swollen pussy. He loves how it looks.
Panting is all that can be heard in the room. You don’t know left from right. Up from down. You just sink into the mattress. Body like jelly, still having a few aftershocks. You feel a warm towel begin to clean the mess you both made. After he cleans you, you feel your body being pulled and placed under the warm blanket. You snuggle into his cheek. Arms wrap around you. Holding you close as you drift into a deep sleep.
can you do something with mbj as a dad? <333 love your work!! 🩷
Daddy and Son Day
michael b jordan x black!reader
Summary: Michael and his little guy spend a day together.
“You sure y’all will be okay today?” You asked Michael, putting on a layer of lip gloss. You fluffed out your fro and looked at yourself one last time in the mirror.
Today, was daddy and son day, a special tradition that Michael had started to spend time with your son. During this day, you were free to do absolutely anything that you wanted while Michael and your son, Asani, did their own thing.
It was always hard for you to leave Asani alone because as a first time mom, you were always worried about your baby. But you also trusted Michael.
To Michael, he loved spending time with his son. He loved exploring and making new memories with Asani. From the moment that you both found out that you were pregnant, he was over the moon with joy. He had been dreaming of that moment where he finally was able to be a dad.
Sure, those first-time dad nerves were there, but you and Michael were a committed team. The first week of bringing Asani home, your families had banded together to make sure that you both didn’t feel overwhelmed. If either of you needed a nap during the day, your mothers were both there to coo over their grandbaby.
Even at night when Asani’s cries would ring through the baby monitor, Michael was the first one up to go pick him up.
You appreciated him more than he knew. One of your fears of becoming a mother was becoming a married single mother. You had personally seen women and friends go through the constant struggle of having their husbands or partners not step up when they needed them. You had heard all of the horror stories of women taking on all of the responsibilities of caring for their home and kid, while their partners just sat back.
What scared you most was the loss of identity. You loved Asani. You really did, but you didn’t want to just be referred to as ‘Asani’s mom’ or ‘Michael B. Jordan’s wife.’ You still wanted to be your own person, which was another reason why Michael had implemented daddy and son day.
He wanted you to be able to take the necessary time out to just be you. He didn’t care what you did, as long as you came back smiling, relaxed, and pretty.
“Baby, we’ll be good. Just like all the other times. Don’t worry about us, just go out and have fun.” Michael said, hugging your body to his. He leaned down to place a few kisses against your lips.
Contrary to popular belief, Michael found you even more sexier since you had your baby. Sure, you had gained a few pounds and some new stretch marks, but he loved it. He appreciated your body in new ways. During your pregnancy, he was eager and curious to watch the way in which your body changed as it grew the baby.
When your belly finally started to show, he was all over you and couldn’t keep his hands off the bump. He loved to keep his head close to your stomach at night and talk to the baby.
When the baby started to kick and move around, he grew even more excited. Sometimes, you would wake up to Michael casually talking to the baby and talking about all of the things that they would do together.
The day of your ultrasound where you found out the gender of the baby was an emotional day for Michael. He cried when your doctor announced that you would be expected a boy. A baby boy for him to love on.
Most people assumed that he wanted to keep the legacy going with the names. They were expecting a “Michael C. Jordan” but you and Michael both felt that it didn’t fit for your son. You knew that Michael wanted to continue the Swahili name tradition, so you both searched through books and the internet until you settled on Asani Jordan.
Your labor experience was an interesting one. You woke up during the course of the night to find that your water had broke. Michael, being the over preparer that he was, had your labor bag packed and ready. The drive to the hospital was calming. Michael held your hand throughout the entire time.
You were ushered into your delivery room, which was a nice private room. Michael had already assured you that he would drop any amount of money in the world to make sure that you felt comfortable during your delivery.
Your contractions were starting to pick up and you were expressing your pain to your nurse, but unfortunately, she was one of those ones that liked to dismiss women in pain.
“Excuse me, miss. My wife’s in a lot of pain right now. Could we get her checked out?” Michael had asked.
The nurse had rolled her eyes, “Sir, your wife is just going through regular pain. It’s nothing serious.”
You caught the dark look that went over Michael’s face, “We want another nurse.”
The girl looked surprised and started to stutter over an excuse before Michael cut her off, “Nope, I want another nurse for my wife. One who knows how to do her job and validates her patients. You can go get us another one or I can raise hell in here. It’s up to you.”
The girl’s eyes widened and she quickly scurried from the room. She was quickly replaced by a nurse who was way more attentive to your needs and pain. After a long process, your son, Asani Jabari Jordan, was born at 11:38PM weighing 8 lbs and 6oz. You and Michael had cried seeing your baby boy’s beautiful face and his head full of hair.
Michael had kissed your head and whispered thank you’s for giving him his first son.
You walked around the room and put on your sandals.
“Dada.” You and Michael looked towards the baby monitor and saw that Asani had woke up for the day. Michael moved out of the room to go grab him.
When he came back in the room, it was clear that him and Asani were talking business about their plans for the day. Asani reached out to you once he saw you and you grabbed him in your arms.
You, Michael, and Asani all went downstairs together. You placed kisses all over Asani’s chubby little cheeks to which he giggled.
“Alright, baby boy, mama’s gotta go have fun with teetee. Say bye bye.” Michael said, grabbing Asani and settling him in his arms again.
“Bye bye, mama.” Asani said waving his little hand at you.
“Bye baby,” You replied, giving him cheek one last kiss. You leaned up to give Michael a kiss, which he immediately deepened.
Asani grabbed at your necklace and you and Michael both laughed when he started to pucker his lips up at you. You paraded his little face with more kisses before you were out the door and in your car. Michael and Asani both watched your car until you were out of sight.
Michael looked back down at Asani, “You hungry, Sani? You want pancakes?”
The small boy started squealing and clapping his hands together. “Ancake.”
“Yeah that’s right. Pancakes.”
Michael moved around the kitchen with ease and collected the materials to make the pancakes. He set Asani on the counter and gave him one of his toys to play with while he mixed the batter.
When it came to cooking the pancakes, he held Asani in his arms again as he poured the batter and flipped them. Asani would squeal and clap each time that Michael would flip the pancakes.
Finally when they were done. Michael put Asani in his high chair and pulled him close. He cut Asani’s pancakes into small pieces and added pieces of strawberries to the plate.
He watches as Asani’s hands grab the pancakes and shove them in his mouth. At one point, he offers a piece to Michael. “That’s for me, man? Aww thank you.” Michael opens his mouth and accepts the piece of pancake, even though it was practically squished into mush.
After breakfast, Michael and Asani both took their showers, and Michael dressed Asani in his little overalls. Honestly, one of the parts that he loved about being a dad was getting Asani dressed in his little outfits.
His first official haircut at the barbershop was coming up soon and Michael was excited to see him sitting in that chair for the first time.
“You wanna go play outside?” Michael asked Asani. The little boy looked up at him, his curly hair flopping in his face, “Tide dada?”
“Yep, outside.”
Once outside, Michael and Asani played a range of games together. They both played tag, even with Michael running slower to allow Asani’s little legs to get away. The little boy let out a high pitched laugh when Michael finally caught him and started to tickle his tummy.
He both kicked the soccer ball around in the yard and Michael would cheer at Asani’s goals. They played outside for over an hour before they were heading to the pool to swim for a while. You and Michael had been taking Asani to those baby swim classes, and he was actually really good.
Michael still kept his hands around Asani and moved him around in the floaty. After their pool time, both Michael and Asani headed inside to take another shower.
Asani played with the chain around Michael’s neck which had pendants for both your name and Asani’s on it.
“Nugget.” Asani stated.
“You want some chicken nuggets?” Michael asked, playing with the curls on Asani’s head.
“Rawwrrr.” Asani said, which made Michael laugh. “I see, you want the Dino nuggies?” Asani shook his head in agreement. Michael set Asani down in his playpen and went to go put the Dino nuggets on a baking sheet.
When he got back into the living room, Asani had his toy phone in hand and was talking on it. “Who you talking to, Sani?”
Asani held the phone out to Michael, “Ma ma.”
Michael chuckled lightly and took the phone and pretended to have a conversation with you. When the Dino nuggies finished, both Michael and Asani sat on the floor and ate their nuggets together.
When they were both finished, Michael switched the tv to Dragon Ball Z and they both started to watch it. Asani climbed in Michael’s lap and cuddled into his arms as he watched the show.
Michael could see how impressed Asani looked with the anime and smiled to himself. He had always envisioned the day that he would have kids and finally be able to watch anime with them. Finally having this moment here was better than he could have predicted.
When he looked back down, Asani was sleeping on his chest with his mouth slightly open. Michael felt his chest fill up with all of love that he had for his son. He could’ve started to cry because this small human was someone that you and he had created together.
He envisioned all of the future milestones in Asani’s life and how he would be able to watch him grow.
He placed a kiss on Asani’s forehead before going back to watching TV.
That’s where you found him and Asani when you got back. The tv continued to play Dragon Ball Z, but Michael and Asani were both knocked out on the couch. Asani was curled into Michael’s chest with his tiny fingers clutching Michael’s chain. Michael had his arms securely wrapped around Asani to ensure that he wouldn’t roll away while he was asleep.
You took out your phone to snap a quick picture of them. You kneeled down and placed a kiss on Asani’s forehead and then leaned up to place a kiss on Michael’s lips.
He jumped slightly and tightened his hold on Asani before realizing that it was you.
“Hey baby, did you have a good day?”
“Yeah, it was amazing. Thank you again.”
Michael leaned forward to kiss you, “You don’t have to thank me. You deserve it.”
You looked down at Asani, “Did y’all have a good time today?”
Michael nodded and a soft smile appeared on his face, “Yeah we had a great time. We played outside. Got in the pool. Ate Dino nuggies.”
You put your hand to your chest in mock offense, “Dino nuggies without me?”
You and Michael both laughed softly together before Michael started to look at you again. “Thank you for giving me this.” He said, looking at you and then Asani.
You pressed your lips against his, “Thank you for being an amazing husband and father. We love you so much.”
“I love y’all too.”
You stood up and reached your hand down to him, “Come on. We can all take a nap together.” Michael rose from the couch, being careful not to disturb Asani.
The three of you made your way upstairs and settled under the blankets. Asani was placed between you and Michael and he subconsciously snuggled closer to your body. You and Michael laid down and let the sleep overtake you.
Michael watched to make sure that you were asleep and smiled.
Delroy Lindo, Michael B. Jordan, and every other Black person in attendance should’ve been apologized to during the show. The apology needed to be as loud and as public as the offense.
Michael B. Jordan is the way we like it 🤍 @Michaelbjordan @sinnersmovie @warnerbros @warnerbrosentertainment #SBIFF #SantaBarbara #michaelbjordan #Sinners
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