A heavy sigh left his lips, his neck cracking as he turned it both ways to relieve the pressure of the day. Michael strained his ears, trying to hear any sound of you to indicate where you were in the large villa he had rented out to be closer to his work he was being forced to do by his management.
His feet led him to the back door in the luxurious kitchen, which overlooked the huge garden. To the left of the door, he spotted you, laying full out on the cushioned sun lounger, a large glass of iced lemonade beside you.
The door slid open as he took in your appearance. A pink and white striped bikini leaving you scantily dressed, the black clip in your hair allowing you to comfortably rest your head back against the cushions. The white earphones were connected to the pink iPod he had gotten you for your birthday and the large bug eye sunglasses covered the majority of your face.
It had been clear you hadn’t seen him, as you continued to move your toes to the beat of whatever song you were listening to, a small smile gracing your face as you relaxed in the sunlight.
He walked closer to you, trying to stay under the large gazebo to protect his sensitive skin from the harsh sun. Tapping your shoulder, you yelped slightly, ripping the earphones out of your ears as you jumped up.
“Oh my gosh, Michael…You scared the life out of me”, you whined, your polished hand covering your heart.
“Sorry mama. Where did you get this from?”
His finger slid under the strap of your bikini top, already distracted from the amount of beautiful skin you were showing to him.
“Oh this? I think I bought it a while ago, I’m not too sure to be honest with you..”
You continued, “why do you like it?”
Dark eyes shot up to meet your own, one eyebrow lifting in almost disbelief.
“Like it? Do I like it? Baby, I love it. You look so precious in this” he smiled at you, leaning down to give you a kiss.
Once the sun hit his face, he gasped.
“How are you sat out here in this? It’s so hot! Are you sure you’re not melting out here?” he exclaimed worriedly.
“It’s lovely out here, Michael! The sun is blessing my entire body right now. I’m so warm!”
He sighed lovingly, watching you get comfy on the sun lounger once again, picking up your earphones.
“I’m going back inside, try not to melt, sun baby”
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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)
“Ma,” he calls out from the living room, empty beer bottle in his hand as he manspreads across the couch. As you step into the room, he looks up at you. “Injured my ankle real bad today, doll. Think I need medical attention.”
Your eyes narrow suspiciously but you remain casual. “The Doctors is open tomorrow if you want to book an appointment. How did-“
“Nah, no need. I think they do home visits now.”
You blink. What the hell was he talking about? “What? Are you going crazy?”
He merely shrugs. “There’s a package in the kitchen for ya, by the way.”
You hesitantly leave the room and head towards the box on the kitchen counter. When you pull out its contents, you release the loudest exasperated sigh ever. A slutty nurse costume. Did your own boyfriend think you were some cheap whore who would dress up as a nurse to please him?
Unfortunately, he got his way. With your face pressed into the cushions of the couch, you writhe and moan into the material, the loud thap thap of Toji’s hips slapping against your ass filling the room.
One hand presses against your lower back and forces you into a deep arch. “Fuckk,” he groans lowly. “Such an obedient little nurse, hm? Letting me fill this tight pussy up.” You moan pornographically as his thrusts become firmer, harder. Your fake uniform is partially ripped, crinkled underneath your boyfriend’s careless grip.
You don’t register his wandering hand until it pressed against your back entrance. You lift your head from the cushion in protest, babbling out a response that was barely intelligible from how fucked out you were. “Toji- ngh- don’t you d-“
His pushes his thumb into your ass. You clench around his cock, annoyingly so, as he easily feels it and knows just how much you secretly enjoy it. “What were you saying, ma?” He asks coyly, a smirk etched onto his scarred lips.
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steve distracting his girl when she’s studying by fingering her <3
your apartment is quiet except for the scratch of your pencil and the occasional flip of a textbook page. you’re hunched over the coffee table, highlighters scattered like casualties, post-its bleeding neon across every margin. finals are in forty-eight hours and the words on the page have started swimming together into meaningless shapes. you barely register steve letting himself in with the spare key, the soft click of the door, his sneakers padding across the floor.
he doesn’t say anything at first, just drops onto the couch behind you, long legs spreading, one arm slung over the backrest so he can watch. you feel his gaze immediately, warm and patient and a little too heavy, but you force your eyes back to the diagram of some stupid cycle you have to memorize.
“baby,” he finally murmurs, “you’ve been staring at the same thing for ten minutes.”
“mhm,” you mumble without looking up. “gotta memorize this”
steve hums. the couch creaks as he shifts closer, then his warmth is right at your back, knees bracketing yours from behind, chest brushing your shoulder blades. you try to keep reading. you really do.
his right hand slides slowly down your arm, fingers threading loosely with yours for a second before they keep traveling, over your wrist, along your ribs, under the hem of your oversized hoodie. he palms your stomach, thumb stroking lazy circles just below your navel.
“steve!” you warn, half-hearted. “i’m serious. i have to-”
“i know, sweetheart. you’re working so hard.” his lips brush the shell of your ear, “my smart girl. always so focused.”
his left hand joins the first, pushing your thighs apart just enough to make room. you suck in a breath when his fingers find the elastic of your shorts and slip beneath without hesitation.
“stevee!”
“shhh. keep reading.” he presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “don’t let me distract you.”
you try. god, you try. but then two long fingers slide through your folds, slowly testing, and your whole body locks up. you’re already embarrassingly wet. he makes a pleased little sound against your skin when he feels it.
“jesus,” he breathes, “this wet huh baby? that’s cute.”
your pencil trembles. the words blur worse.
he doesn’t rush. he never does when he wants to take you apart slowly. those two fingers circle your clit once, twice, light enough to tease, firm enough to make your hips twitch, then sink inside, easy and deep, curling on the way in like he’s memorizing every inch.
your breath hitches loud enough that you clamp your lips shut.
“ohhh there she is,” he murmurs. he starts a slow, steady rhythm, long drags out, deliberate push back in, fingertips hooking against that spot that makes your thighs shake. “look at you, trying so hard to be good huh”
you whimper, forehead dropping toward the open book. the page is swimming now; none of it makes sense.
“eyes up, honey,” he says gently, “you’re supposed to be studying. can’t have you failing because you’re too dumb and drunk off my fingers to read, right?”
the words make your eyes twitch. your cunt clenches hard around his fingers, he groans low in his throat.
“fuck, you like that,” he chuckles. “like it when i talk to you like you’re my stupid little baby who can’t think straight anymore hmm?” he presses deeper, grinds the heel of his palm against your clit on every thrust. “that’s okay. i’ve got you,”
your hips rock forward involuntarily. a broken moan slips out and you bite your lip so hard it stings.
“uh-uh.” his free hand comes up, gentle but firm, tilting your chin until you’re forced to meet his eyes in the reflection of the dark tv screen across the room. he’s watching you like you’re the only thing that exists, mouth parted, looking so in love yet so filthy at the same time.
“eyes on me, baby,” he says softly. “let me see exactly what m’doing to you.”
you can’t look away. his gaze pins you in place while his fingers keep that devastating rhythm faster now, curling harder, the wet sound of it echoing in the quiet apartment. your thighs tremble, your breathing turns ragged, little gasps every time he hits that spot just right.
“stevee pl-ah! p-please”
“please what, sweetheart?” his voice is velvet. “please let you cum? or please stop so you can study?” he curls again. “because we both know y’can’t read a single fuckin’ word right now.”
a sob catches in your throat. your pencil clatters to the table. both hands fly back to grip his forearms, nails digging in.
“that’s it,” he praises, lips brushing your temple. “let go for me. y’can do it, c’mon baby.”
he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping faster, palm grinding relentless circles on your clit, eyes never leaving yours in the reflection. your whole body locks up, back arching, mouth falling open on a broken, helpless moan as your orgasm rips through you.
he works you through it, slow and deep, murmuring sweet filthy things against your ear the whole time.
“good girllll that’s my girl… look how pretty you are.. so fucking perfect for me…”
when you finally manage to come down from your orgasm, you’re slumped back against his chest, panting, legs shaking, brain completely offline. the textbook sits forgotten, pages ruffled from where your elbow knocked it.
steve kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth.
“feel better?” he asks, you manage a weak, dazed nod.
he chuckles, nuzzling into your neck. “good, now take a break. i say you don’t touch that book again t’night”
his fingers are still inside you, giving one last slow, lazy curl that makes you whimper.
“gonna keep you nice and full while you rest,” he whispers, voice dripping honey and sin. “can’t have my girl getting all stressed again, can we?”
Summary: Your baby loves Steve. Probably more than she loves you. What happens when she starts calling him daddy?
Warnings: Ummm, the babydaddy is absent? I think thats the only trigger
Word count: 1.9k
A/N: Hello! This fic possessed me or something, I like just pounded this out in one sitting. Thanks to my cat for sitting ON MY ARM for an hour, so typing was harder
part two
Your baby, Charlie, loves Steve.
And why wouldn't she? Since the day you gave birth to her, he was there. He was the second person to hold her, the person who stayed with you during your entire stay in the hospital, sleeping in the chair by your bed. He was the one who babysat, who never left you and Charlie hanging. For the last three years, he had basically helped you raise her.
As for Charlie's biological father… let's just say it was Steve– 100, Eric– 0. He had never even met Charlie. He said he was on his way to the hospital, but he was really packing his bags and getting ready to skip town. It made the birth all the harder, trying to push Charlie out, all the while looking at the door for a man who would never come.
It took a week to realize you’d probably never see him again. He had a new number, a new state, a new address, and surely a new girlfriend and family.
But Steve stayed. Through the birth, the postpartum, the first words, the terrible twos. He was there for all of it.
So it was no surprise that Charlie loved him. You knew for a fact that besides you, Steve was her favorite person. He didn't have as much time for you and her with his new job and baseball team, but he was her favorite nonetheless.
Today, he was coming over just to spend the day with the two of you. You both had the day off because of a meeting he had at the school, and you were taking a personal day from the mechanics. Charlie was beaming; she was so excited to see Steve again.
You walk into the living room and hand Charlie her lunch, mac and cheese for the lazy day, and grin at her bright smile and shaky hands.
“ You excited to see Uncle Steve?” That's what you all agreed she would call Steve, even though you wished she could call him something else.
Because as much as Charlie loved Steve, you could bet you loved him even more. And again, why wouldn't you? How could you not?
He had been your best friend since… forever. You had experienced everything together. Like the prime example of you getting pregnant two years after graduation.
You couldn't help but love him. How he treated you, how he treated Charlie, it seemed you fell more and more in love with him every day.
But he was Steve the hair Harrington… and you were the single mom, abandoned by her babydaddy, and barely scraping by. You knew he would never feel the same. ‘Best friends’ is all you would be to him, and ‘Uncle Steve’ is all he would be to Charlie.
“ Yeah!!” Charlie squeaked.
You smile down at your baby girl as she starts grabbing at her lunch with her little hands. Then the doorbell rings.
Charlie squeals from her spot on the couch and immediately drops to the ground. You scoop her up and clean at her dirty fingers before putting her down and watching as she sprints towards the door.
You giggle watching her use all her strength to pull the door handle and open the door for Steve. You’ve tried to help her before, but she whines and pushes you away. Nothing is going to get between her and Steve, apparently.
You lean against the couch and smile when you hear Steve exclaim from the doorway, “ Well, hello princess Charlie!!”
You hear Charlie giggle, and a moment later, Steve is coming into the living room with Charlie on his hip, her face buried in his neck.
Butterflies dance in your stomach, and you desperately try to shoo them away.
“ Hi there,” Steve kisses the top of your head since his hands are full, and your chest tightens.
“ Hi Steve,” you grin up at him and Charlie. “ Are we in the mood for mac and cheese?”
Steve genuinely lights up. Honest to god jolts with excitement. “ Would it be bad if I said ‘god please yes’?” Your face heats slightly, but you laugh and walk to the kitchen.
“ Wonderful. I have a bowl with your name on it.” You saw this coming. Some days, you felt as if he were your second child. Yours to take care of.
Okay lets not think about that.
After a moment your bringing him mac and cheese on the couch, the action so domestic you feel like lying on the ground and screaming. Charlie is still in his lap, and both of them light up when they see you coming, making you grin.
“ Mac and cheese for a fully grown man.” You murmur quietly, making Steve laugh.
You plop next to them on the couch, and things flow as they so often do when all three of you are together. Catching up on what happened during the time apart, Charlie trying to play with Steve’s hair, a natural rhythm and flow you’ve never experienced before.
It's nice. It always has been.
After all the catch-up, all three of you are watching Charlie's show. You don't know what it's about exactly, all you know is that it's bright and colorful, and on all goddamn day.
That's when it happens. When you would least expect it.
You're just sitting there in content silence, your thigh touching Steve’s when Charlie stands up, her little feet between Steve’s legs.
She places her hands on his face, making his cheeks look gigantic, and pouts at him. “ Daddy, can I have some juice, please?” She draws out the last word, almost whining, but you and Steve have already ignored her request in favor of focusing on what she called him.
Daddy…she called Steve daddy.
Both of your wide-eyed expressions meet each other, matching looks of shock.
You don't want to correct Charlie, that would break her little heart, but… she should be calling him that. Steve wouldn't want her to call him that.
You look Steve in the eyes and mouth, “ Maybe it was an accident.”
He dumbly nods at you, and suddenly you're up off the couch. “ I’ll get you some juice, baby.”
“ No! I want Daddy to get it for me.” There it is again. You hear Steve inhale sharply from the couch, and your heart splits in two.
You get this earthshattering juice from the fridge and bring it to the still pouting charlie. Her calling Steve…that twice in a row is not a coincidence, and now you have to say something to her.
“ Honey, what did you call Steve?” you prompt softly, in case you’re taking this the complete wrong way.
“ I called him Daddy.” Shes so sure. And she’s looking at you like you're stupid, like you’re the one who just threw this name out on a whim.
Steve looks paralyzed on the couch by her. His arms are still loosely wrapped around her, but it looks like his brain is far away.
You sigh, not wanting to do this to her… or yourself for that matter. “ Babydoll…I dont think its a good idea to call him that.”
Her big brown eyes look up at you, reminding you of Steve's, and you feel like you're physically getting crushed. Even with all the years of telling her that he’s ‘Uncle Steve’ and training your heart not to want this, it still hurts like hell in this current moment.
“ Well… that's because he’s not–” You stop talking when you hear a sniffle from in front of you.
You immediately reach out to take Charlie into your arms, but… she's not the one whose crying.
You look up, and tears are silently trailing down Steve's face. He looks absolutely crushed, and all of the words have left you.
You completely shift gears. “ Charlie, baby, why don't you go get some toys from your room to show Stevie?” You whisper it softly at her, and she beams, already forgetting the conversation you abruptly ended.
She crawls off Steve’s lap and runs to her room, leaving you and him alone.
He sniffles again, wiping his face to try to hide his tears, and you place a hand on his shoulder. “ Steve? Are you okay?” It’s a dumb question, but what's a girl to do?
“ No. no im not okay” he croaks.
You scoot closer to him, and suddenly you're being pulled into his arms, and his face is in your neck, not unlike how he was holding Charlie earlier. “ Talk to me,” you murmur, your hand going to his hair.
He lets out a shaky breath, “ I…I wish I were her dad,” he says it so quietly you almost miss it.
But you don't.
A crying Steve Harrington clinging to you must have made you brave because you whisper back, “Me too, Steve.”
He lifts his head up, “ R-really?”
You sigh, “Of course I do, Steve. You're the one who's stayed for the long haul, the one who's helping me raise her. I wish that she could call you that every day, but i dont want you to be stuck with us… the broke single mom and the toddler. I would never want to hold you back like that.” You have no idea what compelled you to say that. To speak as if… maybe Steve wants you too. You're ready to immediately take it back, but before you can, Steve's lips land on yours in a chaste kiss.
It's over almost immediately after it begins, but it leaves you dizzy. Both of Steve's weirdly big hands are on your face, holding you, and you see a determined look on his face.
“ Hold me back? Honey thats exactly what I want… what I fucking dream about,” he breathes. “ I want to be with you, I want to raise Charlie… I thought that maybe you didn't want me that way, wanted to keep it just the two of you, and… Uncle Steve.”
Like a dumbass, the first thing you say is, “ wait you have feelings for me?!”
Steve nods, “Obviously, I do.”
“ Like romantic ones?”
“ Extremely”
You share a laugh, but soon your eyes start to water thinking of what comes next for the two of you.
“ You really want that? To be a part of this… dysfunctional family?” you whisper it, still so unsure.
Steve wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest.
“ more than anything in the world.”
You finally let it rip and let out soft sobs into his chest. He just holds you and rubs your back; you have all the time in the world to figure everything else out.
You hear little feet running back towards you, and your mama instincts kick in, leaving steves chest and wiping your face so you don't upset Charlie.
“ Daddy, look!” she holds up one of her dolls, and instead of giving you a look of terror, Steve gives you a beaming smile before picking Charlie up and plopping her on his lap.
“ D-Dad’s here… you can show me.” His voice is clipped and filled with awe towards the child in front of him.
It's going to take a while for him to grow into the title, but you feel all three of you will enjoy the ride.
part two
Woah thats it! Thanks to my literal goat @rhaenyrasflame for motivating me. Pls leave likes and reblog if you liked it, that would just make my day. Thanks for reading!
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