Michael B. Jordan x BlackFemPudgy!Reader
content tags: Pure fluff, mild angst, postpartum depression mentioned, explicit language used and brief mentions of intercourse, though more so implied. Also talks of a missed cycle, if that makes you queasy?
authors note: Y’all I got cuteness aggression near the end to the point I had to ensure the ending was adorable. PLEASSEE!
I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors, I’m real sleepy and just wanted to practice writing without pressure today. Enjoy!
EDIT: So, we’re gonna pretend I didn’t use the wrong terminology to address Michael (um so… Adonis been on my mind apparently), and instead suggest ‘cause the twins are both two years old, they really don’t know what the difference is. My brother messed my name all the way up when I was little, gave me an entirely new one. Therefore, not unusual at their age to address others incorrectly.
@lovergirlcinema here ya go, hopin’ you like the end result!
★𐔌﹒﹒ song used - The Lady in My Life by Michael Jackson.
Y/n never knew how to navigate these events Michael requested she join him in and somehow, she assumed she were the blaring red zit amidst a sea of perfection.
Arm looped through Michael’s, she smooshed her cheek against his bicep-nine hours into the premiere event-dark brown irises surveying the room until they land on the extravagant woman wunmi who played the role of Annie in the Sinners film.
Few crowded around the shining beauty, congratulating her on the newest edition taking form inside her stomach and without realizing, y/n’s cheek squished further into Michael’s bicep, her opposite arm subconsciously clutched under the soft pudge of her own.
She imagined what life may or may not come to fruition in the same manner for her as it had Annie. Whether they’d be a boy or girl? How tall they’d become later?
Deep brown hues glimmering under aggressive white lights flickered toward the ground as if the design of her shoes could narrowly prevent the dribble of disappointment from cascading along the curve of her cheek. Thus, she shook her head just enough to pretend like she needed to scratch her cheek, successfully ridding of the droplet and again, she let her gaze return to Annie’s palm which rested on her belly.
As she fiddled with the sleeve of his expensive dress-shirt, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, the shape of her nostrils flared, envy persistent in spite of her efforts to pacify her rapid thoughts concerning the idea of pregnancy.
She appeared sullen rather than resentful.
That said, when Michael noted y/n’s lack of response to his male cast mates question, he peered down at her shorter stature then followed her focused daze.
“Baby, hey,” He rubbed y/n’s arm lightly, offering a gentle smile of reassurance. “Miles wanted to know if you’re enjoying yourself?”
Was she? No. Y/n wasn’t practically pouting neither though! Don’t get her wrong or anything. No… she wasn't pouting at the fact she didn’t have a bundle of joy to expect any time soon. Nor at the reminder Michael knew y/n longed for a future where they’d accumulate a big happy family.
Nevertheless, in the beginning, y/n hadn’t cared to rush their lives, both of them in their early 20s upon their first introduction.
Be that as it may… now? She’s pretty much pushing 36 and Michael, 39.
So naturally, she can’t bare to wait anymore.
Licking her lips, y/n beamed at Miles as she nodded in enthusiastic approval, “I’m incredibly grateful to be here, and proud of you all. Not to sound rude, I just feel your performance- ya know it was great, phenomenal, really!” Y/n babbled, frequently worried she’d say the wrong string of words around people higher in status than her.
“Right,” Miles laughed, and peeked in the direction she’d stared moments ago. “So uh.. Wunmi’s pretty fantastic. Felt like family on the set with her and Michael. Delroy, too. I couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity and welcome.”
Truthfully, Miles was partially rambling too. Although, he also wanted to see how much of what he said registered for y/n or what she’d acknowledge–acutely aware of the dilemma taking place due to his observant and reserved nature.
“Oh yeah, I really hope you’re given the same opportunities moving forward. You’re too talented to settle for less.” Y/n tried searching for the correct response, brows furrowed and eyes averted around the room like it was the cheat sheet to a final exam.
Not responding proper, Miles grinned and hummed, nodding his head he dapped Michael up, whispering something in his ear only the two of them could hear before he waved y/n’s direction, politely dismissing himself.
Perplexed by the sudden dismissal, y/n turned to her husband, “what was- why did he leave?”
Michael spared a faint grin then shrugged, his palm rubbing soothing circles on her lower backside.
“Nothing personal, he said he had to use the restroom. You ready to go?” He asked, scanning the room to be certain no one else needed his attention.
Seeing that nobody approached the pair, he grabbed y/n’s hand and the two of them rode in silence on their drive home.
A week passed since the event, and yet the gnawing feeling of evny never left her.
Everyday she dropped some sort of clue that she were thinking of adding an additional mini them into the picture, praying Michael would sooner than later discover her efforts and entertain the idea.
Meanwhile, Michael knew well enough what his mischievous wife was doing. He simply wanted to ensure Miles’s observation were true before he stuck his neck out and announced the prospect of expanding their small-knit family.
Today, y/n padded back then forth in the kitchen, her shaky hands accidentally slamming the cabinets shut louder than intended followed by porcelain slipping through her fingers as her hip grazed the side of the table, and clattered onto the ground.
Without hesitation, Michael jogged to her side, reaching for her hands first to check they’re free of injury as he squatted beside her, gently asking she bring the dust pan, some gloves and the broom.
He didn't get angry or scold y/n, so the sound of her sniffling and the sight of her entire frame trembling snapped his heart in half.
Disregarding the mess on the floor, he cupped her face, thumbing the tears away.
“Mikey, are you dumb or something?” Y/n seethed, her tears blanketing her partial jutted bottom lip and nose scrunched. Not sure herself where the sudden hostility is coming from.
“Can’t believe you. You got issues.” She grumbled, Michaels mouth opening then closed, baffled by her whiplash of emotions.
“Um.. baby, I’m not the one who’s two seconds away from becoming the incredible hulk. Maybe we should sit down-”
“Oh so now I’m a big green angry booger thing to you? You gonna flick me outside or something? Wipe my snoty ass and flush me down the toilet!” Her voice raised, but Michael had to repress the urge to laugh at her comparison, his face schooled into one of sympathy.
“First of all, I wouldn't think to flush you down the toilet. You might be short, but, that’s a tight fit.” He joked, and cleared his throat at y/n’s clenched fist. “Alright, my bad.”
“Better have enjoyed last weeks fuck ‘cause the only fuck you’re gettin’ here lately is this one.” She flipped him off, marching into their shared bedroom and gently closed the door comically enough, not one to do too much during their disagreements, having learned early on the psychological repercussions of it.
Michael sighed, incapable of denying the love adorned smile graced his features and he ambled to the door, knocking.
“Babe, hey uh- did you check your menstrual tracker this week-”
Swinging the door open with wide infuriated eyes, one twitching dramatically, she pointed a finger to his chest and jabbed the muscular area.
“You dirty fuckin’ dog, I thought you knew better than to say some shit like that! I’m tellin’ Momma Jordan you’ve become a heathen who blames his wife’s emotions on PMS! Wait ‘til she hears-”
“Oh my god, y/n, you are driving me crazy, woman.” Michael chuckled and shook his head, quick to wrap his arms around her torso, gently placing her over his shoulder, kicking the door shut.
Within a few seconds, he settled her onto the bed and got onto his knees.
“You know good and well I’d never make those kind of jokes or accusations. Now, why don't you take two deep breaths for me, and circle back to my question. Okay?”
Lip curled, she grumbled and nudged his hand off her thigh, though her index remained on top of his, needing contact or else she may go half insane.
“I checked… last week. Why?”
“Baby, we had sex five days ago. Check again.”
Rolling her eyes, she retrieved her phone from her shorts pocket and opened the stardust app, blinking at the fact she were supposed to start… three days ago.
Just to be sure, she bolted into the bathroom and checked for any menstrual activity, then returned to his side, stiff.
“Umm… so… I can explain.”
“Oh, yeah. you’re definitely pregnant.” Michael breathed an airy laugh.
“Momma, look!” One of the twins boasted, presenting the frosted chocolate cake he made with his brother as he hopped onto y/n’s lap. However, the more he squirmed the closer the cake got to her face until eventually he pushed it onto her cheek by accident.
Blinking up at his mother like he didn't understand what could possibly occur next, she grinned wide and started tickling him, scooping one finger into the icing as she smoothed it over his forehead, making faux growls, “how dare my son do such treacherous acts against his mother, he must pay from the tickle monster!”
Michael stood by the corridor holding their other son upon his hip, an airy laugh leaving him before she shook his head and moved the cake off the couch to avoid an even bigger mess when Quincy, the eldest by a few minutes, perched against his father’s smacked the cake onto his face intentionally and guffawed, smearing the icing further, until he plastered tiny hand prints on Michael’s new button down shirt.
Quinton raised his brows like a startled baby bird, and dramatically hugged y/n’s arm, preparing for whatever chaos may ensue next.
The entire living room erupted into joyous laughter, tickles all around.
Later on in the day, Michael invited the cast of Sinners over for dinner, having not seen them the past two years trying to help Y/n recover from postpartum depression and raise the little rascals they called their sons.
Setting the table, Quinton’s sneakers scuffed as he ran circles around the table, Quincy not too far behind menacingly giggled while holding a toy above his head ready to attack at any given moment. Just as his arm came down, Michael shovled his mischievous son into his arms, ruffling his hair and gave her the ‘this is your personality, so it’s definitely your fault’ look, when the doorbell rang.
Y/n quickly washed her hands, shaking them to dry and opened the door to greet the people she considered family, giving each of them a hug upon entering.
Ryan, Haliee and Wunmi’s kids bursted through the entryway, immediately finding the twins in the living room with Michael, while she hugged the three, shutting the door.
“Ew, you just wipe your booger on my toy?” Quinton accused, his city accent stronger than most these days, the words making for a unique annunciation, and most probably would wonder where he’s from.
“No, that’s your booger!” Quincy shouted, nearly throttling his toy across the room, y/n’s eyes widened, but thankfully Michael caught his arm.
“Alright buddy, you definitely need to work on that.”
Quinton soon enough ran up to Ryan and tugged his sleeve, Ryan glancing down with a curious smile, “hey, what’s up little man?”
“Can I be in one of your movies one day?”
Taken aback, he paused momentairly and chuckled, nodding his head, “of course you can, I bet you’ll be a great actor too.”
“Yeah! Just like pop pop!” Quinton cheered, then there came Quincy, never two spaces far behind his brother as he tackled Delroy’s leg, his favorite of the bunch and cheered all the same when picked up.
The two had a quaint conversation, Delroy subtly handing him some money and Quincy grinned wide like his father, dimples present and took off running into his room where a crash could be heard seconds later.
Chatter halted, Michael ran into the room, used to his rowdy son’s antics by now, and there stood Quincy on the second shelf of his bookshelf, trying to reach his piggy bank, wide eyed and blinking at his father the same way his mother had months prior to the twins arrival.
“Umm… I can explain pops.”
