lala .ᐟ — ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 18. she/her. capricorn. glitter cheeked angel. bisexual. avid michael jackson enjoyer. unfortunate introvert.

🧁⊹ ࣪ ˖

everything you need to know

SKINNY DIPPING WITH OTW MICHAEL COMING SOON !!!!

oh my god this has me biting my walls FUUUCCKKK

decorating michaels private jet … ⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ

˓𓄹 ࣪˖ the body guard had stopped trying to intervene nearly forty minutes ago.

at first he attempted to be the masculine hunk of pure steel he was, he really did. the moment he saw you stepping onto michaels private jet carrying three massive shopping bags overflowing with decorative pillows, magazines, and enough pink accessories to completely transform the multi million dollar jet into a feminine oasis had him reminding you that michael hand picked the designs for this aircraft down to the leather stitching.

but the problem was that you were michaels favorite person in the world, he cherished you as if you invented breathing itself.

so after watching you casually drape a pearl garland around one of the cabinets and hearing you announce that the entire jet ‘looked flat,’ and ‘gave an overbearing masculine vibe,’ he had simply stepped aside and accepted his fate.

now he stood near the entrance basking in all the shimmering glitter, arms folded while you continued your mission.

“what’cha think? pretty, right?” you nudged the tough man, trying to get him to crack a smile but all you got was a begrudging hum.

the jet no longer resembled anything michael had purchased, every black leather seat had somehow acquired a pearlescent print pillow. expensive fashion magazines were stacked neatly on tables and tucked into the armrests, soft blankets with little satin hearts were folded over the chairs. and for a final boyish touch you visited an expensive antique shop, purchasing a diamond crusted guitar jewelry dish—popping your much needed lipglosses in it.

when michael had finally boarded after his painfully boring meeting, he stopped so abruptly the bodyguard behind him nearly walked straight into his back.

for several moments he didn’t say anything, his eyes slowly traveling from the pearlescent pillows to the cheetah print chairs, then the fashion magazines that already had circles written on the outfits you wanted.

then, finally to you. hands clasped over your mini skirt with a wide pearly smile meeting your plump, glossy lips.

“tada!” you giggled, making jazz hands with a quick twirl to show how proud you were of the new and improved jet.

“baby..” he muttered, still taking in all the pink and cheetah he was seeing. “what happened to my plane?”

“your plane?” you repeated with a playful attitude, arms folding over your chest. “interesting, because i remember someone telling me whatever is his is mine.”

you watched as the smile creeped up on his face, slotting his bottom lip between his teeth. seeing how carefree and happy you were about this made it impossible for him to actually be mad you.

“see this is your problem, wanna know what it is? nobody ever tells you no.” his gaze flicks to the bodyguard whose posture screams guilt, but realistically he would’ve fired the man if he even thought about stopping his baby from doing something she desired.

“well ive never heard the word come out of your mouth, cant be too mad can you?” you purred, standing on your tip toes as you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

he sighed in defeat knowing he really couldn’t, he’s never told you no—not even once. this was all the product of his spoiled doing.

but as he watched the sweet curves of your body excitedly straighten his blanket and continue to fuss over the placement of the decorations like you were preparing a palace, he couldn’t fight the smile that etched onto his lips.

because the truth was no matter how much pink, pearls, ribbons, fashion magazines and ridiculous cheetah print blankets you managed to squeeze into his aircraft, the place always felt better when it looked like you had been there.

and unfortunately for everyone involved, especially the bodyguard who had spent an hour witnessing the chaos unfold, michael had never been very good at telling you no.

“this blanket is pretty nice..” he mumbled, pulling it over his tall frame.

“told you!”

BAD ERA JAAFAR I REPEAT BAD ERA JAAFAR !!!!

personally nothing will ever top his bad era for me like i wouldve genuinely had to be held back from rushing on stage and licking the sweat off his curls …. but mature era when im ovulating

brain storming ideas for spoiled!reader and bad era michael rn

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ thriller era

⌗ synopsis: one unexpected kiss on the cheek brings one very jealous michael jackson.

⌗ contents: kissing, slightly suggestive, jealousy, swearing.

FRIDAY, 7:08 pm

the stage lights of the 1986 American music awards were so painfully bright they made everything shimmer—the cameras, the crowd, the gold envelope that trembled slightly within your grip. regardless you held a steady smile, letting out a puff of air.

you weren’t sure if it was the nerves or because your micheal was sitting front row looking like a million bucks.

the quiet, brilliant, endlessly gentle micheal that made it his mission to kiss off all of your lipstick right before you went on stage. lips still swollen with friction. you freshened up of course but the sensation of his soft, plump, warm lips still lingered.

your heels clicked sharply against the polished stage floor as you walked out, making a mental note to not trip. the lights were far to bright, the applause too forced, and the air too thick with perfume.

but none of that is what made your stomach twist.

it was him.

micheal was right there in the front row, leaning slightly forward, elbows resting on his knees. his suit was unbelievably crisp, gleaming just enough to catch the light, curls styled perfectly in his signature hairstyle. but it was the way he stared that made the pressure in your gut intensify.

a smug smile etched onto his face as he watched you walk up on stage, looking beyond proud at how he could see the swollen nature of your kissed out lips from where he was sitting.

you forced your thoughts into a line and stepped to the microphone.

“good evening,” you spoke, smile soft and steady. “tonight, i have the honor of presenting best male rock artist..”

absentmindedly his lips parted, eyes softening just hearing your voice. and something in his posture shifted, like he was silently rooting for you even though you were just reading off a card.

you cleared your throat, trying not to look at him.

“and the award goes to..”

you opened the envelope slowly just like you practiced, dragging out the suspense because that’s what the producers wanted— but also because there was a small shake in your hands.

“bruce springsteen!” you flipped the card around to show the audience.

the crowd cheered so loudly it vibrated your ribs.

you brightened, a practiced smile curling your lips upwards.

and then bruce was suddenly there, jogging up the stairs with the biggest grin, energy exploding off of him as he swept you right off your feet, literally.

“y/n! get over here!” he laughed, arms opening far to wide.

before you could even properly brace yourself for what was to come, which absolutely wasn’t planned. he swept you up.

you were lifted off the ground, feet dangling in the air, dress tightening around your waist from where his arms were braced around you, spinning you around in a full circle like the two of you were headlining a rom-com.

your stomach flipped nervously, but you managed a breathless laugh for the cameras. hands gripping his shoulders for support because you refused to face plant on national television.

“bruce!” you yelped, heat rushing to your face. “this is not what we practiced!” you looked at the camera with a smile, making this all seem natural.

he only grinned wider, setting you back onto your heels while keeping one strong arm braced alongside your back to steady you. his fingers dug into your waist like he had every right to, like he knew your body better then you did.

then he leaned in, warm breath brushing against your cheek.

and before you could react, he kissed your cheek like he’s done it before. quick, playful, dishonest.

but bold above it all.

way, way to bold.

of course the audience loved it, they whooped and cheered with delight. completely eating it up.

but something inside of you clenched, because that kiss was purely meant for the cameras. it felt a little like he was showing off. like he felt comfortable enough to show something off that wasn’t his because your dress hugged you in all the right places.

you forced out a bitter laugh, stepping back a half step, keeping the energy light and playful. “you’re too much, bruce.”

but as he moved to the microphone, you let your eyes drift off to the crowd. most importantly the front row, gauging everyone’s reactions to that ridiculous performance by the rockstar.

micheal hadn’t moved, not even a little.

his expression wasn’t angry, he doesn’t do angry in public. but his jaw was noticeably tight, his mouth drawn into a firm line and eyes were dark in a way that made your heart skip several beats.

like he’d gone very, very quiet in a way that meant he was thinking too much. the same silent storm you knew to be troubling. continuing to eat at him until he finally snapped.

and even worse, his eyes weren’t just roaming your face, they were tracing the spots where bruce had touched you, like he was replaying it. he hated the memory even sitting in his conscience.

“shit,” you mouthed under your breath, half amused, half already bracing for the argument later.

you hesitantly stepped back up to the podium after bruce had finished his speech, trying to swallow the racing pulse that threatened to jump out of your mouth.

“now we present the special guest of the night award,” you cleared your throat, hands gesturing towards micheal. “micheal jackson everybody!”

the crowd exploded with cheers and legitimate excitement, but you could barley focus because when he stood up everything else around you became a distant dull buzz.

he moved with such a different grace then the rockstar previous to him, no rush, no show. just unapologetically himself, smooth careful steps like the entire room was something he already knew how to navigate.

but his eyes?

they hadn’t left you for even a second, even now as he walked up the steps. when he reached you he stopped just close enough to feel your breath against his neck. taking a moment to look you up and down, tongue darting out to his bottom lip.

“you’re staring mikey,” you whispered automatically, softer then you intended.

his eyes snapped to your face, looking at the same cheek that another man had just previously kissed. the thought alone made his hands clench, knuckles flushing white with abhorrent anger.

he took the award when it was handed to him, but it barley registered. his fingers closed around it like an afterthought.

“thank you…very much,” he began. “im honored.”

applause rolled through the room casually, but he didn’t respond to it the way he usually did. he didn’t shy away from it, he didn’t even give a boyish smile.

instead, his eyes angrily flicked towards you again.

your lips twitched faintly, he wasn’t being subtle about this, not even a little.

“i think…it’s important to remember,” he continued slowly, voice tender but firm underneath it all. “to treat women with respect, with unconditional care.”

a silent beat passed.

“i don’t like when people forget that.”

your eyebrows lifted slightly, the corner of your mouth fighting a smile you refused to make a show of.

because you knew him all to well, this wasn’t a speech. this was micheal trying his hardest not to say too much in front of thousands of people. even worse, taking you in his arms and kissing you in places that would absolutely get you two blacklisted from an event like this ever again.

“thank you for this, to everyone who really supports me. knows that i don’t tolerate ignorance.” he finished a little to quickly, like staying up there any longer would make him lose control of something.

then he stepped back, immediately turning towards you. not the audience, not the camera crew, not even at the fan girls in the back. as if his body knew that was the only direction that mattered.

he didn’t even look where he was walking—just bolted straight to your side, close enough that his shoulder brushed alongside yours as he headed backstage.

“come with me,” he muttered, barley audible but his tone made it clear that it wasn’t up for discussion.

the second you two were off stage the noise of the AMA’s dissolved into something distant and muffled, like the world had been wrapped in velvet and shut behind you.

you barley had time to register what was happening let alone a full breath out before his firm hand locked onto your wrist, guiding you to his dressing room.

he stopped only when you reached a quiet stretch of the private room—dim lights, empty chairs, the faint echo of stage music still vibrating against the walls.

and then he turned.

no cameras now, no crowd, no performative smiles and nods. just the sound of his unsteady breathing, chest rising and deflating with an unseen anger. he looked down at your wrist and finally let go, like he hadn’t realized how long he’d been holding you.

“that wasn’t funny,” he said, voice low and trembling with irritation.

you blinked. “micheal—”

“he put his hands on you.” his voice cracked with such real raw emotion, “when he spun you around like that…and then he kissed you—”

he stood several feet away from you now, one hand braced against his hip while the other repeatedly dragged anxiously through his curls. but not because he was trying to fix them, because he didn’t know what else to do with himself.

“from where i was sitting it looked like you were perfectly comfortable being lifted and spun around in front of thousands watching.” his head tilted slightly, something sharp in the way he looked at you now.

that sentence landed like a match striking in dry air.

your eyebrows raising in complete disbelief before you could even stop yourself, “comfortable? are you serious micheal? i was unknowingly picked up infront of those thousand people while being recorded. i didn’t exactly have time to complain.”

his jaw tightened immediately, making a quiet clicking sound with his tongue. clearly fighting an eye roll. “that’s not what i meant and you know it.”

“then speak up, because if you’re trying to accuse me of enjoying that interaction you’ll be walking your ass home.” you shot back, heels clicking harder then necessary onto the cold tile floor because you couldn’t bear to stay still as he looked at you like you orchestrated the whole thing.

“im not—im not angry at you.” he replied quickly, exactly how he did when taking to a family member. not wanting anymore trouble then the conversation was worth, he completely shuts down when arguing was involved. but the tone alone told you he was more then upset.

you let out a humorless laugh, “that’s funny mike, your looking at me like i asked him to lift up my dress and have fun.”

his eyes snapped towards you, as if the words that just came out of your mouth repulsed him. he let out a dry scoff, already irritated by someone touching you let alone pulling up your dress. wrong choice of words.

“don’t even say something that like that, are you crazy?” he laughed angrily, taking just a few strides before he was right infront of you. his long legs allowing him to travel quicker, breath hitting your face as his eyes traced every detail of your pretty face.

both of you far to stubborn to speak up, inhaling each others scent as you tried to swallow the urge to smash your lips against his. anger aside he looked good enough to create a warm heat between your legs, pressing them together hoping he doesn’t notice.

his shoulders rose and fell with a heavy breath before he shook his head. “this isn’t getting us anywhere.”

you folded your arms, “that’s because you refuse to say you’re sorry.”

“and you refuse to understand why im upset.” his eyes narrowed onto your lips, subtly watching the way they glistened and popped with each word.

for a second neither of you moved, then micheal suddenly turned towards the dressing room door with determination simmering in his brown doe eyes.

“what are you doing? im still talking to you micheal!” an irritated glare flashed on your face quickly as he reached for the shiny handle, immediately assuming the worst. that he was going to walk out upset with you, forcing you to follow him like a hurt puppy which you absolutely wouldn’t allow.

“come with me.”

“no.”

“no?” his brow quirked upwards, a toothy grin pulling on his now amused face.

“no.” you finalized, stubbornly crossing your arms over your chest.

he stared at you for a moment before letting out a puff of laughter, throwing his head back in irritation from how stubborn you really had proved to be. instead of arguing with you he just opened the door, latching onto your wrist with his naturally gentle touch.

the sounds of the backstage hallway immediately flooded into your senses, crew members, security, distant arguing, and most importantly. reporters, reporters who’s main goal was to film celebrities all night hoping to catch something raunchy or appealing enough to stir up controversy.

a small cluster of said reporters and photographers had gathered near the end of the corridor, waiting for the celebrities to pass after the show hoping to score a quick two minute interview with someone.

your confusion only grew, “micheal what does this have to do with anything? you’re irritating me.”

micheal looked at them like they could solve world hunger with a quick flash of their cameras, a hungry glimmer decorating his brown eyes. he looked back at you then at them, a smile pulling on his lips.

and suddenly a strange sense of realization started creeping into your chest, trying to pull at his hand to guide him the other way where it was quiet. no press, just a black car waiting to take you two home.

but he wasn’t listening now, or maybe he was but this was his version of ending the argument in a way without words. he had never been good at yelling or getting his point across, far to selfless to allow himself to hurt others with his words. so in his eyes this would solidify his statement.

and before you knew it you were directly infront of atleast ten reports with cameras, expensive microphones that picked up every squeak on the glistening tile.

the second they noticed who was infront of them the flashes exploded, people immediately shoving others to be closer with their cameras, fan girls starting to cry and rush to the scene.

“you wanna argue on camera? what a plan micheal, real childish.” you rolled your eyes, trying to pull your hand away from his to escape from the thousands of cameras that were flashing over your irritated face.

his eyes finally met yours as he shifted his body towards you, a small smile dragging his mouth upwards—looking almost mischievous, and before you could protest any further he pulled you closer. impossible closer.

you stumbled into his chest, flashes starting to become quicker. your heart practically jumped out of your chest, realizing what his plan was all along.

his lips smashed against yours in a heated exchange of, gloss, spit, and the anger of being helplessly in love colliding together on atleast forty different cameras. he didn’t bother pulling away as the flashes consumed your bodies, one hand settling along your waist, pulling you into his firm chest while the other held onto your hand.

you could feel the smug smile on his lips as he kissed you, just like earlier he loved proving that you were undoubtedly his. now you’d be undoubtedly his to every woman in the world.

when he pulled back photographers were practically falling over each other trying to capture even a sliver of a second, on the other hand you couldn’t help but to stare breathlessly at him, a weird fluttering feeling blooming in your stomach.

“tomorrow,” he whispered in your ear, “every magazine is going to have that printed on the front cover, every radio station, every talk show.”

you blinked.

“are you crazy!?” you covered your face, an embarrassed flush heating up your cheeks. covering your mouth with a manicured hand, pulling him away from the crowd as he wore a love struck smirk on his kissed out lips. knowing he didn’t regret a single thing.

“no one will remember that shmuck who picked you up, they’ll remember me kissing you like the last woman on earth.” he giggled behind you, beyond proud of himself.

despite yourself, despite the argument, despite the anger that seemed to dissipate into thin air you felt a laugh threatening to escape.

“you’re ridiculous, mikey. you could’ve just said you were sorry.”

“could’ve, but that felt way better.” he giggled his whole way to the blacked out car, gripping onto your hand like his life depended on it—cheesing like the childish kid he still was at heart.

@dollhabits work!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ thriller era

⌗ synopsis: being michael jackson’s bestfriend can be difficult when he expects you to drop everything and answer his calls !

⌗ contents: fem!reader, fluff, small kiss, childhood bestfriends, nicknames.

SATURDAY, 9:27 pm.

you were practically buzzing with excitement, electric feelings that only a saturday night in 1982 could replicate. music was buzzing faintly from your busted up radio player, hair finally doing what you had been begging for it to do all night, and your outfit laid out on the bed reminding you of all the wild memories you’d make tonight.

tonight was supposed to be a funky, crazy night.

one last look in the mirror, okay…actually four last looks in the mirror before you spun on your heels and towards your closet to grab a jean jacket to combat the nipping cold.

right as you reached for the jacket, the phone rang annoyingly down the hall.

you groaned dramatically at the ceiling, “of course.” a quiet mutter.

you had ignored the first call. if it was michael which you were almost positive it was. he would only talk to you about something completely unnecessary, make you forget the time and miss the nightclub completely.

but it continued to ring, two calls in a row couldn’t be anything good. he usually always left a silly voicemail for you to hear after the first.

with a few taps of your feet against the wooden floors and a sigh you padded down the hallway to grab the receiver, twirling the cord around your finger.

“…this you, mikey? or am i talking to bubbles?”

for a moment all you heard was soft breathing—too quiet, far to out of the ordinary for little micheal jackson. not his usual excited mumble jumble of words he shot out within seconds.

“oh y/n! finally! oh man, i thought you fell asleep with your face in the pillow again.”

there he was, the teasing, the loud bubbly voice, the same exact micheal you grew up with.

you rolled your eyes although he couldn’t see it. “cmon michael, why’re you callin’ this late? im about to head out for the night.”

“yeah yeah whatever..” he interjected. “but just hear me out on this mama, its super important.”

“im listening michael.”

he inhaled dramatically, practically hearing the wide smile he had on his face. “no one and really i mean no one wants to watch a movie with me tonight. not any of my brothers, even bubbles keeps falling asleep during the funny parts. it’s insulting really.”

you lowered the phone, biting back a laugh. “really micheal?”

“im serious!” the desperation was evident in his tone, he couldn’t stay occupied by a chimpanzee any longer.

you shook your head, smiling. he truly was still the boy you met all those adolescent years ago, still boyish and silly.

but still—god he was doing it. he was pulling you in without even realizing it. you had plans, plans you waited all week for.

“mikey, i can’t tonight,” you winced internally, saying no to him still felt like kicking a puppy. “the girls are already on their way.”

“but mama..” he whined, whined. like he was eight all over again begging you to color with him. “it won’t be fun without you, it never is.”

“micheal..” you sighed, stretching the phone cord towards the front door, peeking out the window to check if your friends headlights are shining through the dark streets.

“i even got your favorite icecream. also got sprinkles and cherries..”

you opened your mouth to speak but closed it, frustrated between choosing.

“and,” he added, sensing your walls crumbling beneath his fingertips. “i found that real old movie we used to love when we were kids. the one with the terrible acting and even worse special effects, i even set up pillows on the floor, it’s all ready girl. just missin the most important piece.”

you pressed the phone to your forehead and groaned dramatically.

he knew, he always did.

“mikey you’re killing me,” you muttered. “i wanted to dance tonight.”

“you can dance here!” he chirped excitedly. “ill even pretend i don’t notice when you mess up the footwork completely.”

that damaged the ego just a little, “i do not mess up my footwork, rascal.”

“no judgement over here mama, you know that.” hearing the way he was trying to quietly set up the ice cream bowls and sprinkles behind the phone, making your heart tug uncontrollably.

“michael i really can’t,” you mumbled, “my girlfriends are going to kill you once they find out, this is the fourth time you’ve done this.”

“please?” he said, softer. not whiny, not playful. just heart achingly honest. “i really want you here tonight.”

the silence pools between the two of you, both staying silent for different reasons. micheal was quiet because he was afraid if he said anything else you’d change your mind. and you were quiet because micheal was making it real hard to say no.

you sighed, running an irritated hand over your face. “fine micheal, fine. you never play fair.”

he laughed like he had finally won a prize at the fair, like nothing else mattered. which in his case, it really didn’t. he would never get over how easy it was to pull at your heart strings—showing all 32 teeth behind the telephone.

“alright y/n, see you in a few minutes. gotta go wake bill up from his beauty sleep.”

click!

you let out a breath you hadn’t even known to be holding, looking at the ceiling for strength you so desperately needed. why were you such a sucker for him? you don’t know when he got his hooks in you but they had to have been in deep.

˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞.

bill showed up fifteen minutes later in a familiar car, nodding politely as you climbed in. he looked amused—clearly micheal’s dramatic begging hadn’t stopped at the age of ten.

the ride went by quick with polite small talk to the man you practically grew up alongside, pulling into the large home as you have so many times before.

bill led you to the front door and practically vanished, knowing you could map the direction of the house with your eyes closed.

quick pit pattering of quiet feet rushed towards you from upstairs, “you’re here!” his face lit up like a kid in a candy store.

“you manipulated me micheal don’t make it sound like we arranged this.” you tried to fight the smile that came with his infectious energy.

he couldn’t wait a second longer, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards the living room—looking exactly how he described it on the phone. blankets everywhere, pillows messily decorating the floor, and a movie waiting to be played on the television.

“well, you certainly weren’t lying.” you looked over at him, heart beginning to race at how handsome he looked tonight. his clean smelling cologne and shiny curls cascading down his chiseled face made this feel so surreal. your lips parted with a shaky breath, eyes flitting down to his full lips that were a pretty pink.

quickly looking away, feeling your pulse hammer against your ribs like it wanted to jump out.

he naturally does the same, taking a glance at the way your lips glossed in the light. “i take my movie nights very very seriously y/n, let’s go grab some icecream.”

he reaches for you without even realizing, grabbing your hand in his and clasps your fingers together. leading you with such a giddy expression it makes your stomach flutter with a sudden warm feeling.

the house felt so unreal at this hour, it was far to big and quiet, too dreamlike. every sound echoed, the freezer door opening, the clinking of spoons, and micheals soft breath as he hovered way too close behind you.

he wasn’t even pretending to help you. just standing there watching every expression that pulled on your face.

“are you just gonna watch me do all the work or help me?” you looked over your shoulder with a teasing glance, noticing how intently he was staring.

“im supervising.” he murmured, voice warm with that shy rasp.

you swallowed harder then you meant to, hands nervously fumbling with the scoop.

when you handed him the bowl, he purposefully let his fingers brush up against yours. not dramatic, just letting them linger a longer then he ever had courage to. like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

“that good?” you asked.

he nodded, trying to distract himself from how powdery and sweet you smelled.

you just smiled with a playful scoff, reaching for the chocolate syrup—and he literally followed you. as soon as you took the step he also took a step. “youre hovering mikey.”

“i know, just don’t wanna be to far from you.” he admitted quietly.

the confession sat between you, strangely honest for the normally shy man. you handed him the syrup to distract the both of you, and just like he did so many years ago he covered the strawberry icecream in chocolate syrup—a full spiral, then another.

“alright no more michael, don’t wanna hear you complain about a chocolate induced stomachache later,” you giggled, reaching for the bottle.

he held it out of reach playfully, “can never have to much chocolate, doll.”

you rolled your eyes at him, taking a spoonful of the cold dessert and feeling it melt along your tongue.

“you got icecream on ya face,” he said, tapping his own bottom lip.

“where?” you darted out your tongue, trying to lick the dollop of icecream seemingly on your face.

he didn’t raise his hand, didn’t even reach for a napkin. he just stepped in closer, brushing the corner of your mouth with his thumb. light, barley a whisper of touch.

he brings his thumb to his mouth, the same one that was shining with gloss and ice cream and licked it clean. “there.”

you stared at him. lips parting with a quiet breath, heart picking up that same nervous pace.

he swallowed, eyes flitting from your eyes back to your mouth like he couldn’t decide which was prettier. a subtle hint of want lying deep in his gut. before you called attention to it, he leaned in. slow, hesitant, and allowed his body to do all the work for him.

he gently pressed his lips against yours, so gentle, so achingly micheal it made your stomach blossom with butterflies. he truly was a gentleman inside and out, sure he wanted to kiss you till you both lost breath but he knew that wasn’t the way to approach such a beautiful woman like you—he had to treat you like the P.Y.T you were.

when he pulled away he almost looked embarrassed, a gentle pink flush rising on his cheeks.

“sorry,” he whispered. “i just..had to. been wanting to.” a quiet confession.

you put your spoon down beside you, heartbeat loud in your ears. “you don’t have to apologize for giving a girl what she wants.”

finally, a smile rose to his lips. showing all of his thirty two sparkly white teeth like he couldn’t believe you enjoyed that kiss. he had been dreaming of it your whole ride here, planning how to seem calm and collected about it.

“you still owe me a nightclub night,” you laughed, bringing a sweet, gentle kiss to his cheek.

“ill take you every weekend mama,” he said almost instantly, wrapping an arm around your waist as the other held his ice cream.

“you’re ridiculous.”

luckily you picked up that phone, make sure you do everytime !

@dollhabits work ! ,, not proofread :-(

a/n: im literally going to make three thousand of these i need boyfriend micheal so badly rn its not even funny 😭 but please send me ideas in my dms, comments or inbox!! not guaranteed that ill get to it but i literally love talking to you guys and id love to write about what you guys personally enjoy. loves ya!