Michael would be super nervous, especially around your family. Hes not used to big family gatherings for Christmas but he’d make an effort to be super sweet to your family! They’d all love him by the end of the night, all the older women swooning over his good looks too. “You really know how to pick a good one Y/N” they’d say. At the end of the night when you’re both alone sitting by the fire he’d cry because of how happy he is to be with you, to finally fit in somewhere. :’)
just a lil thank you since i hit 2.4k! michael and his son make reader breakfast in bed because they just love her so much.
warnings: possible baby fever, im sorry.
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It was early. It was too early yet there Michael was, being pulled from his sleep by a tiny finger poking his cheek. He groaned sleepily, grabbing the small hand in his larger one, pulling it away from his face. Blinking a few times, he adjusted to the light and saw his son perched on his stomach, peering down at him with his wide, blue eyes. In any other situation he would’ve been annoyed by being woken up at such an early hour, but he couldn’t resist the way his tiny copy looked at him.
Giving him a tired smile, Michael pulled him down to lay next to him and his son quickly found the perfect spot at his side, his head on his shoulder as he looked up brightly at his father.
“Good morning, little man,” Michael whispered, careful to not wake you as you slept soundly with your back to the pair.
“You said we could make breakfast for Mommy,” he said, mimicking Michael’s soft whisper and completely disregarding a greeting, clearly very serious about his order of business.
“I did, didn’t I?” Michael said, rubbing his tired eyes and his son watched him intently, always fascinated by the things Michael did.
“Uh huh,” the boy agreed, climbing off of Michael and grabbing his hand, weakly trying to pull him up as he climbed off of the bed. “C’mon,” he pleaded.
Michael climbed out of the bed carefully, trying not to wake you up from the sudden shift in weight on the mattress. He grabbed a shirt, quickly tugging it over his head and followed his son as his tiny legs hurriedly carried him to the kitchen. He beat Michael there, already setting up his small stool in front of the counter so that he could reach.
“I want fruit loops,” he said to Michael when he walked in, seeing his son trying to reach for the cabinet but miserably failing.
“What happened to making breakfast?” Michael asked, grabbing the cereal box and handing it to him. He opened another cabinet, getting out two bowls.
“Thats for Mommy, not us,” he declared as if Michael had asked the most obvious question ever. It made the man chuckle, retrieving the milk from the fridge.
“I see,” he said, letting his son carefully pour cereal for the both of them into each of the bowls, but pouring the milk himself. There had been too many accidents in the past, Michael had learned his lesson about letting his son pour liquids.
Lifting his small body up onto the counter, Michael set his son down and sat next to him, their legs dangling off of the counter as they both ate their cereal. He reached over, showing his son how to properly hold his spoon, silently nodding in approval as he chewed.
The pair sat quietly as they both ate, mouths too full to speak. It blew Michael’s mind at how much his son could eat, nearly finishing his plates before either of his parents ever could.
When they were finished, Michael helped the boy down from the counter and he pattered after his dad as he made his way to the sink, setting his bowl down inside. His son held up his bowl up to him, not quite able to reach the sink yet.
“Thank you,” Michael said, taking his bowl and quickly washing the two of them. His son made it his responsibility to grab the milk, screwing the lid on tightly and putting it back in the same spot in the fridge where he had watched Michael grab it from. Michael admired how much he always wanted to help.
“So, what do you want to make?” Michael asked as he looked in the fridge for ideas. His son clung to his side, peering in as well.
“Pancakes?” he asked excitedly, peering up at his dad for approval. Michael nodded at the idea, beginning to grab some things they would need for the batter, handing a few things to his son.
“If we make these do you promise to be extra careful around the stove? You know our rules,” Michael asked, arranging all of the ingredients and tools on the counter. You both always made it a point to teach your son about dangerous things such as hot pans, he was too precious to the two of you to take any risks.
“Don’t grab the handle and don’t touch the top,” he recited, earning a proud smile from Michael, the man reaching down and ruffling his already messy hair.
“Good,” Michael said, beginning to pour some things in a bowl and pushed it over to where his son was standing on his stool. “Stir it carefully,” he instructed, handing him a spoon.
He securely held the bowl as his son whisked the ingredients, his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration. He pointed out a few spots that needed more mixing, the boy eagerly fixing the issue.
“Why do they call them pancakes if they don’t have icing?” his son inquired as he watched, from a safe distance, as Michael poured the batter into the sizzling pan. He was always asking questions that Michael had never even thought of.
“Good point,” Michael chuckled, trying to keep the batter in a perfect circle as it cooked. “I guess because they’re made with batter like cakes are. Remember when we made that cake for your birthday?”
“Spider-man!” his son exclaimed excitedly as he thought about his cake they had made just a few months ago, insisting that he have a homemade Spider-man cake. It didn’t look the best but he was still completely enthralled about it to this day.
“Yeah, Spider-man. He was made kind of the same way,” Michael explained to his fascinated son. He watched as he dipped his tiny finger into some of the batter that was left over in the bowl, tasting it and scrunching up his nose when he realized it didn’t taste anything like a sweet cake.
“Yuck,” he said, shaking his head at Michael and making the man laugh.
“Maybe it’s because you made it. You must be a bad cook,” the man shrugged nonchalantly as he teased the boy. He felt him tug on his shirt, frowning up at him as he challenged him.
“I am not! I made the cereal, that was good!” he argued, only making Michael laugh more. He flipped the pancake over in the pan, silently applauding himself for how well the bottom of the pancake had cooked. As much as his son wanted to make this breakfast, Michael truly wanted it to be perfect. He was always eager to find small ways to show his appreciation for you.
“But, I poured the milk?” Michael questioned, playfully challenging the boy even more.
“I poured the fruit loops!” he quickly replied, crossing his arms over his chest. He definitely had his mother’s stubbornness.
“Okay, maybe you aren’t that bad of a cook,” Michael compromised, plating the first pancake. Giving his son a banana and a dull, plastic knife he showed him how to slice the fruit so that he could put them on top. The pair worked together as they made the rest of the food for your breakfast, the house starting to fill with the smell of pancakes.
Michael stole a slice of banana, popping it into his mouth. “Shh,” he said, playfully smiling at his son as he mimicked his dad, stealing a piece from the plate as well.
The boy insisted on arranging the banana slices in a smiley face on the pancakes, carefully drizzling syrup all over them. Looking over the finished plate, he beamed proudly.
“Do you think she’ll like it?” he asked, looking up at Michael.
“She’ll love it, buddy,” Michael assured him, pouring a glass of orange juice. He set the plate onto a tray, carefully handing it to his son who held it like it was the most precious thing ever.
“Be careful,” he urged the boy, holding the glass of orange juice himself, not wanting to deal with scrubbing an orange stain out of the carpet this early in the morning. He watched as his son quietly padded into your bedroom, looking back at him with questioning eyes when he noticed you were still asleep.
Michael silently motioned for him to set the try on the nightstand, setting down the cup of orange juice down too. He grabbed his son, lifting him up onto the bed and he climbed over to your sleeping figure, giggling quietly before he started to attack you with affection as Michael lovingly watched, holding back his laughter.
You woke up to a mess of kisses all over your face, those familiar giggles filling the room and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.
“What are you doing?” you sleepily said, wrapping your arms around your son and hugging him to you as your eyes fluttered open. He was looking at you with the sweetest grin, scarily resembling Michael.
“Me and Daddy made you breakfast in bed!” he happily exclaimed, making you look up to see Michael sitting on the bed next to you. He gave you a warm smile, reaching over and brushing your hair off of your forehead, pressing a quick kiss there.
“Good morning, baby,” he said, grabbing the tray from the nightstand. “Let Mommy eat, bub.”
Your son climbed off of you, giving your cheek a quick kiss and climbing under the blankets in Michael’s spot, resting his head on his dad’s pillow. You sleepily sat up, yawning and taking the tray, carefully setting it on your lap. The smiling breakfast caused you to chuckle, making your son giggle to himself at his silly creation.
“What’s the occasion?” you asked, starting to cut into the pancakes. It was truly a surprise to wake up to them both wide awake by your side, especially with a cooked breakfast. Typically you were the first one awake but not today.
“We just wanted to do something special for you,” Michael shrugged, looking over at his son who was snuggled up in the blankets. He always loved cuddling in your bed with the both of you. “Right?”
“Yep,” your son happily agreed, nodding his head and reaching out for you, his small hand loosely grasping your shirt. He had a habit of holding on to you in some way ever since he was a baby. You dreaded the day he stopped clinging to you like that.
You happily ate your food, listening to your son explain the whole process of making it in every detail that he could. Michael sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against the headboard and his hand slipping into your hair, massaging your scalp. You felt like you were in heaven, being treated so well by your favorite boys.
When you were finished you thanked them for working so hard and Michael took the dishes to the kitchen, your son taking the opportunity to cuddle up to you. He rested his head on your chest, his small arm hugging himself to you. Michael returned to see the pair of you snuggled up to each other, slipping back in bed behind your son and slinging his arm over the both of you.
You could feel your son starting to doze off, rubbing your shirt between his fingers and letting all of his weight lay on you. Michael ran his hand up and down the boy’s back, a smile pulling on his lips.
“He was so excited when he woke me up this morning,” Michael said softly, looking up at you with those blue eyes that you loved so much. “It’s unbelievable how much he loves you.”
“You’ve been a good example,” you said, looking down at the sleeping boy on your chest, kissing the top of his head. “He has a good man to look up to.”
Michael leaned over your son, pressing his lips to yours briefly as he smiled gently. If you could stay in this moment forever you would. It was so simple but filled you with so much love.
“You gave me the greatest gift in the world,” Michael whispered, shaking his head in loving disbelief. You both treasured the boy who peacefully slept on top of you, resembling the both of you in your favorite ways. He was truly the embodiment of your love and you admired how perfect of a father Michael had become. You wouldn’t trade these boys for the world.
as much as i personally could never do this, i find it incredibly hot? like you would be kind of worried at first about making a mess but he would assure you not to think about it and that he would take care of it all so you just get super comfy, not having a care in the world beside the fact that you felt so much better
it would fuel the fire even more. the literal antichrist being mildly dominated by someone? they would love all of that power and the absolute horror on the person’s face.
okay, we alll know that older michael is always down for period sex and its practically canon. but sub!michael is so different. his reasoning for it would actually be so endearing, just wanting to help them out and make them feel better when he knows theyre going through some pain. he would do absolutely anything for them, it being sexual is just a bonus. so long story short, that boy would fuck them no matter what lmaoo
Toad's Cave 