. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ . ݁ sky. 20. she/her. black. mj lover.
requests/asks open! currently writing for michael and jaafar jackson only.
masterlist ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི
Today's Document

titsay

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Misplaced Lens Cap
Peter Solarz
d e v o n
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

Origami Around
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

shark vs the universe
trying on a metaphor
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Jules of Nature

Kaledo Art

noise dept.
Sade Olutola
will byers stan first human second
seen from Pakistan
seen from Costa Rica
seen from Togo
seen from Bolivia
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seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from Brazil
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seen from France

seen from Togo
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seen from United States
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seen from United States
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seen from United States
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@amorify
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ . ݁ sky. 20. she/her. black. mj lover.
requests/asks open! currently writing for michael and jaafar jackson only.
masterlist ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Hi! I was wondering if you could make a fic off of thriller, I thought about what he said in this vid (https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTS54kPtK/) where he said “I’ll like for you to be my girl” and I found it so 🥹 but then he turned into the werewolf😟
sooo I was wondering if you could make one where you and him have been friends for years but always had feelings for each other so he basically confesses his love for you and you say yes and kiss but then the kiss starts feeling deeper as the full moon rises and where you basically see he’s changing and he starts turning obsessive over you and doesn’t want anything to split y’all apart? If yo want you can make it smut or whatever🤍 sry if this is long
I just was thinking super hard on this idea lol
i like the way you think anon. i will get on this asapp 😛
MICHAEL JACKSON at UNCF (1988)
Michael Jackson THE WAY YOU MAKE ME FEEL (1987)
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝘁𝗼𝘅𝗶𝗰.
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆bad!michael being so hopelessly gone for his personal assistant! that the smallest things completely throw him off.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
i’m your man
Michael couldn't believe it. He had the prettiest girl he had ever seen sitting on his lap, with your slender fingers tracing circles on his sun-kissed, exposed chest, listening to him ramble on about one of his personal thoughts. That's what he liked most about you: you never made him feel like he was odd or bizarre for the things he adored. California was delightful this time of year, with cloudless, slow, hot days spent wrapped up in each other's arms.
“Tink, can I tell you something—never mind…It’s stupid.” Michael says, hiding his blushing face into your neck. You didn’t like it when he did that, made himself smaller like his thoughts didn’t matter. In reality, they meant the world to you. You tenderly lift his face from your neck. “No…,” you dragged out, curiosity lingering in your voice, “Let me know what’s on your mind, angel face.”
Michael presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, playing with the hem of your shorts, caressing the soft skin. “I have an idea. A great one, mama.”
“Let’s hear it.”
He adjusts you on his lap, clearing his throat. “I want to do a film, I think it’s going to be great. You’ll be there, of course. I jus’ want to get away from music for a bit and get more into acting.”
You smile at him, “That sounds great, Michael!” A light bulb sparks in your head. “I’m sure I know a few people who could help. I know they won't mind!”
Michael can remember the first day he met you. Waiting in the lobby, peeking up from the page of his magazine, eyes following your lace kitten heels clicking against the linoleum floors of Motown Records—everything about you drew him in. Michael yearned for an experience of a fulfilling, passionate connection.
Passing him by walking into your dad’s office, as if he had been blessed, his longings answered. You waved at him. A small, simple wave.
It was rare to see someone who didn't merely see him as a celebrity but as a person, which brought out an unfamiliar side of him.
Michael grinning at you virtually instantly, pressing a kiss upon your lips. “My girl, looking out for me.”
“Oh, I’m your girl now?” You smirked.
You feathered your fingers, tickling Michael’s ribs. “Stop, Tink! You know I'm ticklish!” he says, squirming away from your attack.
He really relished the days like this. “You’re so funny, y’know,” He says, adjusting you so you're sitting fully on his lap. “Why thank you, Mr. Jackson, my soon-to-be-million-dollar Hollywood man!”
It was the cutest thing—the sight of your incredibly beautiful, flustered boyfriend. The “M” engraved heart-shaped necklace, sat perched on your clavicle—a gift, a reminder of your love. You throw your arms around his shoulders, wildly peppering kisses on his face. “C'mon, angel, show me that Hollywood smile!”
His face heats up with every wavering moment, failing to repress his smile. Just him and his girl. Michael wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
Heyyy :) I absolutely adore your work and was wondering if you could do smth with Micheal based off of the lyrics of locked out of heaven by Bruno mars? Thankssss!
after the silence
synopsis — 𓍼ོ.☘︎ ݁˖༘⋆ : after a difficult period in his life, michael throws himself into rehearsals to cope. when a new dancer, joins the studio, their partnership in practice slowly brings him out of isolation and helps him start reconnecting with people again.
themes — 𓍼ོ.☘︎ ݁˖༘⋆ : grief, healing, connection, hope
wc — 𓍼ོ.☘︎ ݁˖༘⋆ : 2,391
wanna see more? here’s my masterlist! ݁ ˖Ი𐑼ֶָ֢
request = open 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯
rehearsals had always been michael’s favorite part of the day. once everyone else packed their bags and headed home, he’d still be there, sitting cross-legged on the studio floor with a notebook balanced against his knee, chasing melodies that only existed in fragments. he’d ask dancers if they wanted to run a section one more time, joke with the crew while they wrapped cables, thank every musician individually before finally leaving long after sunset.
now, the music stopped, and so did he. he was always the first one out the door. people whispered about it when they thought he couldn’t hear.
“he’s different.”
“he hasn’t been himself.”
“give him time.”
time. everyone said it like it was something you could simply wait through, as though grief quietly packed its bags one morning and decided it had overstayed its welcome.
they didn’t see the nights.
they didn’t see him lying awake until five in the morning, staring at the ceiling because every time he closed his eyes, his mind wandered somewhere it wasn’t supposed to. they didn’t hear the silence that greeted him every time he walked through the front door of his house.
so he worked. work had always made sense. music never promised forever, music never changed its mind. if he poured enough of himself into rehearsals, maybe there wouldn’t be enough left over to miss someone who was already gone.
the warehouse buzzed with energy by the time he arrived. somewhere down the corridor, dancers stretched against mirrored walls while choreographers shouted counts over music.
it felt alive and he wished he did too.
“morning.” his choreographer fell into step beside him. michael offered a tired smile.
“morning.”
“sleep?” he let out a quiet laugh.
“something like it.” the older man studied him for a second before deciding not to push. instead, he clapped loudly enough for the room to settle.
“before we start, i’ve got someone new.”
a handful of conversations faded and dancers wandered toward the middle of the room.
michael barely looked up. new people joined productions all the time, some stayed, some disappeared after a week.
he’d learned years ago not to build opinions before the music even started.
“…everyone, this is y/n.” he looked anyway.
you stood near the front of the room with your dance bag resting against one leg, fingers nervously twisting the strap while thirty unfamiliar faces looked back at you.
you smiled. there was something honest about it. you didn’t carry yourself like someone trying to impress anybody. if anything, you looked slightly overwhelmed, your eyes quietly wandering around the studio as though you couldn’t quite believe you were standing there.
he recognized that look, he had worn it once years ago before stages became familiar, before cameras stopped making him nervous, before people expected him to know exactly what he was doing every second of every day.
“…she’ll be with us for rehearsals starting today.”
you introduced yourself quietly, earning a few welcoming smiles before everyone returned to warming up. the room immediately filled with movement again.
music flooded through the speakers and counts echoed against the mirrors.
rehearsals settled into their usual rhythm. michael had never struggled to focus before. he was the kind of performer who disappeared into choreography the second the music started. everything else faded until there was nothing left except movement.
today, his concentration kept slipping. it happened so subtly at first that he barely noticed. during water breaks, his eyes wandered across the room.
while waiting for music cues, he’d glance toward the mirrors, and every single time they landed on you. you learned choreography the way people solved puzzles. carefully and patiently. if a section gave you trouble, you repeated it quietly to yourself instead of asking someone else to slow down. your lips moved beneath your breath while you counted, feet marking steps against the floor long after everyone else had stopped.
he watched you celebrate tiny victories nobody else noticed such as finally landing a difficult turn or finding the timing on a complicated sequence. your smile every time something clicked into place wasn’t performative.
without realizing it, he smiled too.
“michael.” his head lifted.
the choreographer stood across the room with folded arms.
“you joining us?” a ripple of laughter moved through the studio.
only then did he realize everyone had already reset into formation and he hadn’t.
he rubbed the back of his neck.
“sorry.”
“that’s twice today.”
“i know.”
“you feeling alright?” he nodded automatically.
“yeah.”
it wasn’t entirely convincing. still, the rehearsal continued. you happened to glance over just as he stepped back into place. for a brief second, your eyes met. instead of looking away awkwardly, you smiled a small, friendly smile.
he found himself looking for you again ten minutes later.
by lunchtime, someone dramatically collapsed onto the floor, earning laughter from the rest of the dancers. the room emptied surprisingly fast, and within minutes, only a handful of people remained.
michael wandered toward the loading dock outside, carrying an unopened sandwich he wasn’t particularly interested in eating. first time all day it was quiet.
he welcomed it, or at least he thought he did. his thoughts returned almost immediately and he hated that.
he hated how quickly silence became memory. how every quiet moment somehow circled back to the same place, the same person, the same ending. he stared absentmindedly across the parking lot until footsteps interrupted his thoughts.
you.
you paused when you noticed him sitting there.
“oh.” your voice was softer than he’d expected.
“i’m so sorry.”
he frowned slightly.
“for what?”
“i didn’t know anyone was out here.”
you glanced back toward the hallway.
“i can go somewhere else.”
“you don’t have to.” the words came quicker than he intended. he then shifted slightly, making room beside him.
“there’s plenty of space.” you hesitated for only a second before walking over.
“thanks.”
a comfortable distance remained between the two of you as you sat down. for a while, neither of you spoke. the silence didn’t feel awkward.
a breeze drifted through the open lot, carrying the distant sound of traffic. you took a sip from your water before quietly laughing to yourself.
he looked over.
“what?”
you shook your head.
“nothing.”
“didn’t sound like nothing.” another small laugh escaped you.
“i was just thinking…”
you looked down at your shoes.
“…i’ve wanted to dance here for years.”
he stayed quiet.
“my teacher used to make us watch videos of your rehearsals.”
your smile turned almost sheepish.
“i never thought i’d actually end up in one.”
something softened in his expression.
“how’s your first day?” you let out a long breath.
“terrifying.”
he laughed, a real one this time.
“that obvious?”
“a little.”
“great.”
you covered your face for a second.
“i thought i was hiding it.”
“you were.”
he smiled.
“pretty well actually.” the nervousness eased from your shoulders.
“good.”
another silence settled between you, this one somehow lighter than the first.
he realized, with quiet surprise, that it was the longest conversation he’d had in weeks that wasn’t about schedules, choreography, or work. for the first time since his breakup, he hadn’t thought about the past once while you were talking.
that realization stayed with him long after lunch ended, because as everyone slowly filtered back into the rehearsal room, michael found himself doing something he hadn’t done in months, which was looking forward to the rest of the day.
the afternoon pasted faster than the morning ever had. once the music started again, the warehouse slipped back into its rhythm. counts echoed across the studio, sneakers skimmed against the polished floor.
you found yourself relaxing into it. the knot that had been sitting in your stomach since you walked through the doors that morning had slowly started to unravel. you still made mistakes, but they no longer felt like the end of the world. every correction was another chance to learn, and somehow that made the room feel smaller. friendlier.
across the studio, michael noticed. he wasn’t trying to watch you. he’d actually made a quiet promise to himself after lunch that he’d stop letting his attention drift your way every few minutes. the conversation outside had been nice, but that was all it had been. you were a dancer joining rehearsals, nothing more.
he had spent months trying to convince himself that letting people in only ended one way.
he wasn’t about to forget that now. yet somehow, every time the music stopped, his eyes found you before he even realized he was looking.
you practiced the same way you spoke, which was patiently.
if something didn’t feel right, you didn’t get frustrated. you simply tried again. and again. and again, until eventually your face lit up with that same quiet smile he’d already seen a dozen times that day. it wasn’t for anyone else’s benefit, you smiled because you’d finally gotten it.
he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen someone enjoy improving more than being impressive. it was… refreshing.
“alright.” the choreographer’s voice cut through the music.
“we’re changing formations.”
a few dancers groaned dramatically.
“don’t complain,” he laughed. “you’re young. you’ll recover.”
the room shuffled around as everyone moved into new places. papers rustled in his hands while he glanced down the list before looking up again.
“michael.”
he lifted his head.
“you’re with y/n for this section.”
you looked just as surprised as he felt. your eyes met his for only a second before you made your way across the room, adjusting the strap of your dance bag where it rested against the wall before stepping into position beside him.
“hi again.” you said with an awkward little smile.
“hi.”
for a moment, neither of you said anything else. then the choreographer clapped his hands before the silence had time to grow.
“from the top.”
music filled the room again.
the combination wasn’t especially difficult, but it relied on trust.
every turn ended with the two of you crossing paths. every transition depended on perfect timing. if one person was even half a second too early, the entire sequence fell apart. the first attempt ended with your shoulder bumping lightly against his.
“sorry.”
you both spoke at exactly the same time.
you blinked, then laughed, and so did he. the sound escaped him before he even thought about it, quiet but genuine.
“again!” the choreographer called.
the second run went better, and by the fourth, the awkwardness had disappeared completely.
michael found himself explaining little things without thinking.
“wait half a beat longer.”
you nodded.
the next time, you did exactly that.
“better?”
he smiled.
“much.”
there wasn’t a trace of defensiveness in you, no embarrassment over needing help. you simply wanted to get it right, and he admired that.
another break was called not long after.
music faded into scattered conversations as dancers reached for water bottles, towels draped around tired shoulders while a few people collapsed dramatically onto the floor.
you wandered toward the mirrors and you stood in front of your reflection, quietly marking through the section the two of you had just finished. your lips moved beneath your breath as you counted each step, stopping every so often before shaking your head and starting over.
he stood across the room for a moment, watching without really meaning to.
it reminded him of another rehearsal years ago. he’d been younger then, still convinced perfection was only one more practice away.
everyone else had gone home while he’d stayed behind repeating the same spin until his feet hurt too much to continue.
he’d forgotten that version of himself somewhere along the way. watching you now felt strangely familiar, like finding an old photograph tucked inside a drawer you hadn’t opened in years.
he walked over before he could talk himself out of it. you caught his reflection in the mirror and turned.
“oh.”
you smiled.
“i thought everyone was taking a break.”
“they are.”
you glanced toward the movement you’d been practicing.
“i just wanted to get this one part.”
he nodded slowly.
“show me.”
you blinked.
“really?”
“yeah.”
without another word, you stepped back into position. he watched carefully as you danced through the combination.
when you finished, he waited a second before speaking.
“you’re rushing because you’re listening to the count.”
you frowned slightly.
“isn’t that what i’m supposed to do?”
“a little.”
he stepped beside you.
“but don’t chase the numbers.”
he demonstrated the movement once, slower than before.
“listen to where the music breathes.” you watched him carefully. he noticed how focused you became whenever someone explained something to you, like the rest of the room simply disappeared.
when he finished, you tried it again.
this time everything landed exactly where it was supposed to.
your face lit up almost instantly.
“…oh.”
a quiet laugh escaped you.
“that feels completely different.”
he couldn’t help smiling.
“because you stopped thinking.”
you looked over at him.
“i overthink.”
“a little.”
“a lot?” he laughed softly.
“a lot.”
you groaned, covering your face for a second.
“i knew it.”
“it’s not a bad thing.” you lowered your hands.
he shook his head.
“it just means you care.”
the words settled between you. for some reason, they meant more coming from him. you smiled to yourself before looking back at the mirror.
“thank you.”
he looked at your reflection instead of answering.
people thanked him all the time, for opportunities, for songs, for performances, but this, this felt different. you weren’t thanking michael jackson.
you were thanking the person standing beside you because he’d taken a few extra minutes to help. he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed something that simple.
outside, the sun had started to sink behind the buildings, casting warm streaks of gold through the studio windows.
for the first time in months when rehearsals ended, michael didn’t find himself thinking about leaving. instead, he found himself wondering if tomorrow’s rehearsal would put the two of you together again.
and that thought alone was enough to make him quietly shake his head at himself. this was exactly what he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do.
yet as he packed away his notebook, he couldn’t ignore the feeling settling somewhere deep inside his chest.
it wasn’t love, it wasn’t even a crush, it was smaller than that. quieter.
hope.
and after everything he’d spent the last few months trying to outrun, hope almost frightened him more than heartbreak ever had.
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Nine months of home videos
Pairing: Michael x reader
Content: in which every month of your pregnancy Michael records a new video
Video one, month one.
“Michael! I'm not even showing yet!” The camera panned out, your hand covering the lens, yet it still caught the smile on your face.
“I know, I know… I'm just so happy.” There was a slight shake in his voice, like he was on the verge of tears as he zoomed in, the camera shaking slightly as he let it fall to your stomach. The light from the morning sun sent a ray through the kitchen window that seemed like a sign from the heavens.
The soft sound of breathing filled the room. The camera caught every bit of the pure silence before cutting out.
what if bad michael wanted to feel your presence through the camera before he goes away on tour? 18+
“there y’go mama jus’ like that.” michael mutters, letting his lip tug between his teeth in total mesmerization of your body twisting and turning over the bed. the camera in his hand zooming over your frame, making sure to catch your essence through the film.
your faint whimpers and soft cries leaving your mouth as you let your fingers do what michael had pleaded you to do. the camera still recording as michael leans back, legs wide, and watches you hungrily. “one more finger.” four fingers deep and you are now a sweaty and moaning mess. “show me how good you use yourself f’me ma.”
“michael you’re so so good to me.” as you pant heavily, feeling your knees continue to glide over the mattress while lowering your body down to raise your ass up. your pussy glistening in full display, making michael’s eyes shine with much desire. and oh did the camera love to catch into the scene too.
“you were so sexy mama. did so good.” he cooes placing his palm under your cheek as you smile at him and soon lower your head a bit to kiss the pad of his thumb. “treat yourself on tour for me.” he grins, immediately knowing that his plan worked.
he didn’t care about day one of the tour nor did he care about day two. because michael only cared about stuffing himself alone in his room and jacking himself off to your beautiful self on his video tape, ignoring the tiredness from each performance.
michael’s hips going upwards towards the air as he continues to fuck his hand desperately to feel a release. his eyes shut for a moment before snapping open to not miss a single second of you fucking yourself with your fingers while crying out his name softly—like a perfect melody to his ears.
“please-please mama i.. fuck” michael cried feeling his cock throb at the immense sensation consuming his entire body while watching you murmur praises under your breath.
the sight of your tits close to the camera zooming and catching a sight of your nipples, hard and needy, drove michael absolutely insane. “need that pussy baby please gimme please.”
it was so late in the night it didn’t cross his mind that he had to go to practice early in the morning because all he cared about was you.
your gorgeous body, your voice, your hair now sticking to your sweaty flushed face, and the way your bottom spreads to show the camera the wet deliciousness between your legs—waiting for him when he comes back home.
10 / 3 / 1988 - Michael is honored by the United Negro College Fund as being one of their highest contributors at the 44th annual anniversary dinner. He receives their highest honor, the Frederick D. Patterson Award for his continued humanitarian efforts.

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being jaafar’s favorite cart girl
the sun is hitting the green just right, and you’re leaning against the side of the golf cart, wiping down the steering wheel when you hear the familiar rumble of laughter. you look up, and there he is.
jaafar.
he’s walking down from the clubhouse with three of his friends, a set of clubs slung over his shoulder, looking effortlessly fine in a crisp white polo and khaki shorts. the moment his eyes scan the course and land on you, a slow smile spreads across his face.
"look who it is," jaafar calls out, adjusting his baseball cap as he walks over ahead of his boys. "i was hoping you'd be working today."
"oh, really?" you tease, as he stops right in front of your cart. "and here i thought you just came out here to ruin your golf score."
his friends chuckle behind him, and jaafar lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "nah, my swing is perfect, but seeing you definitely makes the game better."
you can feel your cheeks getting warm, but you keep your cool, reaching into the cooler to grab his usual drink before he even has to ask. "sure, jaafar. whatever you say. you want the regular?"
"you already know," he says, his voice smooth as he takes the cold drink from your hand. his fingers brush against yours for a second longer than necessary, sending a tiny jolt through your chest. he leans an arm on the roof of the cart, tilting his head with that playful look in his eyes. "so, when are you gonna let me drive you around instead of you driving this little thing?"
"when you actually hit a hole-in-one," you counter with a smirk, crossing your arms.
"bet. watch me on the ninth hole. i’m feeling lucky today," he winks, stepping back as his friends start calling him over to the tee box.
before he walks away, he pulls a crisp hundred-dollar bill from his pocket and drops it right into your tip jar.
"jaafar, the drink is only five dollars," you say, laughing a little at the massive tip.
"i know," he smiles, looking back over his shoulder with that warm, charming gaze that always melts you. "but you're my favorite cart girl. see you at the next hole, gorgeous."
you watch him walk off toward his friends, who are already teasing him and shoving his shoulder. you can't help the huge smile on your face as you start up the cart, already looking forward to when they reach the next green.
that damn smile UGHHH
More pics of Jaafar at the 2026 Bet Awards
MICHAEL JACKSON AT GARDNER STREET SCHOOL (1989) Part one
glasses ⋆˙⟡
pairings : mature!michael jackson x f!reader
syn : he is insecure of his cute glasses library ;)
michael had never thought in his years of living that he would ever need glasses. that was until he fell down the stairs, missing a step from his blurry vision. you practically yelled at him to go to the optometrist and get a pair of glasses. and that’s what he did. one of michaels security took him to the car, and drove him there. leaving you sitting in the couch. hands running over your face. frustrated at a hard headed michael.
meanwhile, michael was contemplating even giving in to go to the optometrist. I mean, yea. he did need the glasses. but it was embarrassing. he had been avoiding this issue for a few weeks. now it had just caught up to him. he hated the fact that he had a pretty girl next to him. and he would be wearing glasses. looking dumb, and old. his overthinking was put to the side at the feeling of the car stopping.
“okay mr. jackson let’s go.” one of his security mumbled. helping him out of the car, and into the building.
michael walked out of his appointment feeling humiliated. not because someone in there said something. but because in his hands he had a chunky pair of glasses. he knew for a fact that when he walked into your shared home. you would surely be ashamed of him, disgusted by him. those thoughts ran through his mind the entire drive back home. god what was he gonna tell you.
you heard the car pull up in the driveway. immediately going on your feet. you wanted to know what happened at the appointment, and if any serious treatment was needed. the door opened, and you were met with a sad, puppy dog michael. his eyes were avoiding yours, his lips slightly downturned, and his forehead slightly moist. sweating out of nervousness.
“love? what happened?” your voiced was laced with worries. confused why your own husband won’t look you in the eyes. a million thoughts formed in your head.
“mikey, did someone in there say- or do something to you?”
his head finally lifted to meet your eyes. they were not the usual bright and happy ones you were so used to seeing. now they were hollow, and filled with insecurity. confused, you stepped closer to him. putting a hand one his cheek.
“talk to me angel”
your voice was smooth. leaving no room for argument. that’s when everything fell out. all the thoughts he had been feeling about these stupid glasses. the idea of him wearing them and looking a complete fool next to you. you were taken aback. how could he say these things. you hadn’t even seen the pair of glasses and you knew he would pull them off effortlessly. you’ve had enough hearing him talk down on himself.
“michael- stop, honey stop. let’s get one thing straight, I would never- and I mean never. stop loving you over a stupid pair of glasses. nothing could come between what I feel for you and I need you to know that. second, in all honesty I haven’t even seen the pair of glasses and I just know you can pull them off so effortlessly. give them a try mikey”
your words left his cheeks red. his head hanging low. and soft giggles leaving his mouth.
“gosh (name) you truly are my hype woman”
you smiled, taking the box of glasses out of his hands. you gently took opened the box, taking the out of the box. and handing it to michael.
“can I see em’ on?”
he nodded. accepting the glasses. leaning his head towards the ground, so you wouldn’t see them on immediately. that’s when you grabbed his chin, guiding his head to be alined with yours. your eyes widened. you almost melted on the spot. the sliver framed hugged his temples perfectly. the prescription on the glasses was pretty high you assumed. considering the fact it made his bambi eyes even bigger. he looks so cute hot in them. there were no other words to put it. michael on the other hand, shifted under your gaze. his eyes roaming around the house. he was honestly so confused by your reaction.
“baby- do ya’ like em’?” he questioned, smiling.
“do i like them? angel- i love them! you look so hot baby oh my goodness.”
michael mouth formed an “O” shape. smiling. out of all the reactions he was prepared for you to have. this was the least expected one. especially calling him hot? I mean hot wasn’t one of the thought he had for himself trying them on. but that’ll work for him. suddenly he stumbled backwards by you slamming your lips together. leading into a somewhat steamy makeout sesh.
a/n : not proofread :)))
© 𝖻𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗂𝗌𝗉𝗒𝗍

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MICHAEL JACKSON IN COME TOGETHER - MV (1988) (I had to make that third gif, I just couldn't hold myself, blame me i guess)
headcanons with mature era michael and ditzy!reader. love ur writinggggg
love love love this
summary: reader is a little ditsy but michael loves her even though he is sometimes gobsmacked by your accidental actions
⁀➴ both you and michael were about to leave the house, going to a restaurant for a dinner date that you had been planning and had been delayed multiple times.
just as your kitten heeled foot exited the door with michael infront of you, you gasped.
michael turned quickly, thinking you were hurt.
“what, baby? are you okay?”
you rummaged through the small bag that was pulled off of your shoulder, moving the things around in your bag as you looked for something.
“my lipgloss! i need my lipgloss”
michael rolled his eyes, eyebrows knitting together in confusion,
“why do you need your lipgloss? we are going to dinner and your lips look sparkly enough..”
you looked up, deadpan at his confused face,
“michael.. lipgloss isn’t permanent! i’ll reapply in the car and then after dinner, i can’t have a plain lip on our date!”
he giggled, already walking towards you to guide you back into the house.
“let’s go look for it then”
inside the house, the sofa cushions were flipped, drawers left slightly ajar and both of your hearts beating quickly as you rushed around the house.
“oh my gosh, where is it!!”
michael stood in the kitchen, looking through a basket of letters to see if it had accidentally fallen in, even though you had just used it upstairs.
“i don’t know, baby… where did you have it last?”
you let out an exasperated sigh, looking around the living room.
“i don’t know, i literally just had it.”
putting your hands on your hips before setting your eyes on somewhere you hadn’t looked, hands slightly down the back of your thighs as you walked over.
your hand brushed over something in your back jeans pocket, sliding your hand in and pulling the pink lipgloss tube out.
“oh.”
you stared at it, michael turning towards you at the noise.
“wha-…, oh where did you find it?”
you stared at the lipgloss dumbly, blinking at it comically.
“in my… back pocket.”
you looked up at him, face scrunched up in confusion. a loud belly laugh emitted from michael, his head tipping back.
“oh my- you are so silly”
he placed his hand on your back, pushing you gently towards the door to the car that was waiting outside.
you stared at the tube before looking up at michael.
“i swear i don’t know how that got in there… how didn’t i feel it?!?”
he shook his head, looking at you fondly,
“i don’t know how you do it”
⁀➴ it had been a super hot summer in california, the heat been relentless on not only both you and michael but also the innocent flowers outside.
as you were getting a nice cold glass of water from the jug in the fridge, you began to refresh yourself whilst looking out of the kitchen window.
you laid your eyes upon the beautiful flowers the gardener had planted a few months ago and how dehydrated they must be due to the harsh sun.
you had been watering the flowers outside of the backdoor for a week now, and they seem to not be growing much.
using the glass you were drinking out of, you refilled it from the tap and walked outside, beginning to pour water onto the soil before turning your attention to the hanging plants beside the patio doors.
michael walked into the kitchen, obviously having the same idea to get a drink in order to escape the high humidity.
as he walked past the open patio doors, movement caught his eye, turning and seeing you squinting in the sun as you poured water onto the baskets.
“baby…”
“oh, hi!”
you waved at him, a sweet smile growing across your face at the sight of him,
“i’m just watering the plants, they must have been thirsty”
he brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck, tilting his head in amusement.
“how long have you been watering the plants beside the door?”
you looked at the pink flowers in the hanging basket before turning back to michael.
“ermmm… like maybe a week?”
he laughed, eyes lighting up. taking a step out the door to grab your hand, he said,
“pretty, those ones are plastic..”
your jaw dropped, looking at michael in disbelief.
he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest and rocking you side to side as he giggled.
“what! i’ve been watering those all week”, you whined, head dropping to his shoulder.
“it’s the thought that counts, sweet girl”
you both walked away, placing the glass onto the counter and walking deeper into the house.
“i was wondering why they weren’t growing…”
a loud laugh echoed through the house, michael being throughly amused by your silliness.
⁀➴ walking through the streets late at night was like a breathe of fresh air.
why? number one, nobody could recognise michael in the darkness, especially with the baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. number two, there was nobody around, no cars honking their horns or speeding down the road, just pure silence.
the air smelt faintly of rain, both of you unaware of the looming storm that was about to release above you.
a thick drop of water landed on your forehead, head tilting back towards the dark clouds.
“i think it’s raining”
“huh… bill didn’t mention that it was gonna rain today, he’s usually on top of the weather”
you shrugged, making your way to the large gazebo in the park with the bench under it so you could enjoy the silence with your man.
all of a sudden, the sky unleashed all of the water it held , michael yelping as he let go of your hand and ran under the shelter.
you took your time however, enjoying the feeling of the rain hitting your warm body from the humidity.
“baby! hurry up and get under here!”
“it’s so nice though!! this is the coolest i’ve felt in days!”
he dropped his head and shut his eyes at your answer, shaking his head before looking at you with worry.
“you’re gonna get sick if you don’t get your butt under here!”
you giggled at his response, spinning around, feeling the rain soak your thin jacket.
“no i’m not! im gonna be fine.”
the next day, when you woke up, you felt as though you had been hit by a train.
head pounding at any movement whatsoever, your nose completely blocked and your throat feeling as though it had been scraped raw.
michael turned over in bed feeling the sunlight hit his face, nuzzling his nose into your neck.
“good morning, sweet girl”, kissing your cheek.
you groaned, head slowly moving so your face wasn’t hitting the sun.
“ouchhh”, you whined, not even having the energy to lift your arms up to cover your face.
michael brought his head up, eyes scanning your face in concern.
“what’s the matter?”
“i feel… so sick…”
after a brief silence, michael let out a heavy sigh.
“i told you you were going to get sick and you didn’t listen to me.”
“ugh.. gosh it’s too late to lecture now, my head feels like it’s going to explode.”
he brought his hand up to rest on your forehead in order to feel your temperature.
“gosh, you’re so hot.”
even though you felt like death, you cracked an eye open, smirking at michael.
“i know honey, that’s why you fell for me”
michael giggled, head dropping to your shoulder before getting out of bed.
“shush, you need rest today. i’ll get you some medicine and then you can go back to sleep”
you pouted at him, not wanting him to leave the bed before grabbing his pillow and burying your head deep into it, smelling his cologne.
“hurry up and come back, i need cuddles to feel better.”
as he left the room, he stopped and turned towards your curled up form in bed.
“make sure you listen to me next time, silly girl, okay? don’t need you getting sick again”
“yeah yeah, whatever”