hello queen ur writing is wow🥹i was hoping you could do sub!michael x petty!gf reader and they’ve known each other since they were kids and started dating like a few months back and reader finally confessed bc michael is way too shy to which is lowkey irrelevant but anyways one day michael does something to make reader mad(it can be wtv u want, stupid or valid reason) and she deprives him of any affection like cuddles, kisses, hand holding, etc. it’s only been like half a day and he’s already almost falling apart and he’s profusely apologizing over and over again and he just wants her to show him any affection, preferably a nice long kiss, and reader is making him begggg for it and his face is so sad and absolutely desperate and she finally gives in but she’s still kinda mad and ofc petty so she agrees to kiss him but he can’t kiss her back(yes yes evil ik) he agreed without thinking and it was absolute torture and every time he started kissing back she’d immediately stop and ask, “what’d i tell you..” and he’d apologize again and he begs her to kiss her too and reader gives in at the ends after he again promises for the umpteenth time to never make her mad again (i would like no smut pretty please..)
ik this is long i’m sorry queen and i hope this makes sense…🥹😚💝 mwah love ya!! 💋
also tag me plezzz if u dm!
HEY GIRLIEPOP😼😼 I honestly had sm fun reading ur request so lemme perform my magic!!😉 mwah love ya more!!💋💋 @appleheadcutie
✦︎ˎˊ˗⋆.° Here I kneel…
"I am so sorry. Truly, deeply, incredibly sorry," Michael said, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped into the living room. He was practically vibrating with anxiety, his eyes wide and pleading as he looked at me.
"I just got caught up in the conversation with the valet," he stammered, his hands fluttering in the air as if trying to catch a falling glass. "And then the traffic on the way back—the light at the corner was just red for so long—and I was thinking about how much you loved the scallops and you just looked so fucking beautiful and I just... it slipped my mind for a second."
Michael had forgotten to take your heels off for you once you arrived home from your dinner date. It had always been a tradition for him to immediately get on his knees once arriving home to carefully remove your heels, planting kisses on your feet afterwards. But tonight, he had forgotten and maybe you were being petty but you honestly didn’t care. The fact that you'd had to kick the shoes off yourself felt like a breach of the silent contract you both cherished
"Please," he whispered, his voice cracking. He followed you into the living room, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. "I know it's the little things. Baby, I honestly forgot. I'll make it up to you. I'll give you a foot massage for an hour—two hours! Just... please look at me."
He wanted to lean in, to press a tentative kiss to your shoulder or tuck a strand of hair behind your ear but you didn’t even want to acknowledge him.
When you climbed into bed that night, you didn't slide into the familiar warmth of his side. Instead, you reached for the oversized decorative pillow and hauled it firmly into the center of the mattress, creating a barricade. It was a soft border, a fabric wall that signaled a temporary state of tension. You turned your back to him, pulling the duvet up to your chin, leaving him to stare at the mountain of pillows.
You knew damn well Michael could not physically sleep without you. His body craved your warmth too much.
You lay there in the stillness, listening to the frantic, irregular rhythm of his breathing on the other side of the bed. You knew that for Michael, sleep wasn't something that just happened, it was a surrender that required the safety of your proximity. Without the anchor of your warmth or the steady beat of your heart against his ear, his mind would likely spiral, replaying the evening's failure in a loop of high-definition anxiety. He attempted to reach over to you which earned him a slap to his hand, causing him to whimper.
Time had passed. You take a sneak peek at him to find him facing the other way. You heard small sniffles coming from him. Michael had always been a sensitive man and part of you felt bad. But the pettiness in you didn’t falter so easily.
The next morning, you moved through the house with a purposeful, airy detachment, gliding past him in the hallway without so much as a glance. Every time you brushed past, you could feel the magnetic pull of his need—the way he subconsciously leaned toward you, hoping for a stray touch or a lingering hand on his lower back—only for you to pivot a fraction of an inch away, leaving him yearning for your touch.
He followed you from room to room like a ghost, his movements hesitant and fragmented. When you sat at the kitchen table to drink your tea, he hovered by the counter, his fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of his oversized shirt. He looked as though he were starving in a room full of food, his eyes tracking your every motion with a desperate, wide-eyed intensity, waiting for a single crack in your resolve that would allow him to slide back into your grace.
You were sitting on the sofa, scrolling through social media, laughing away at some funny stickers you saw in the comment whilst Michael was standing in the corner broken with eyes staring at you longingly. He stood in front of you before kneeling at your feet which caught your attention.
“I’m so sorryy my love..” he whined. “You’re right darling. How stupid am I to have forgotten something so important. Please forgive me.. I really can’t function without your touch.”
“You really hurt my feelings Mickey,” you say feigning indifference.
“I know and I promise it won’t happen again, please my love” he said trembling.
“So… what do you want from me? a kiss?” You said teasing him with a sly smirk on your face.
He nodded fervently, his curls bouncing with the motion. "Yes. Please. More than anything. Just one kiss. Just a long, deep kiss to tell me you're not mad anymore." He looked so fragile in that moment, stripped of all his public poise, reduced to a man who simply couldn't live without the grace of your affection. For the first time that day, you really looked at him. He looked so tired and broken He looked as though he would have waited there for an eternity if it meant he might eventually receive a single touch.
"Fine," you whispered, the word acting like a spark in a room full of gasoline. "But there are conditions."
You leaned down, your face hovering inches from his. Up close, the desperation was a living thing; his pupils were blown wide, swallowing the iris, and his lower lip trembled with a fragility that almost made you forget your annoyance. He looked like a wounded bird, breathless and utterly surrendered. "You can have your kiss," you murmured, your voice trailing over his skin, "but you aren't allowed to kiss me back. You just stay still and take it."
He nodded fervently, his eyes closing in anticipation. He was so desperate for the contact that he had completely surrendered his agency, agreeing to the terms without a second thought. When you leaned in this time, the kiss was slow and deliberate. You tasted the salt of a stray tear on his cheek, and he let out a shaky, muffled whimper against your mouth. He was a taut wire, every muscle in his body locked in a battle against the instinct to pull you closer, to wrap his arms around your waist and lose himself in you.
For a few seconds, he managed it. He remained a passive recipient of your affection, his breath hitching in rhythmic intervals. But then, the sheer sensory overload of your warmth became too much. A subconscious need to respond—to give back the love he felt—overrode his discipline. He let out a tiny, needy sound and tilted his head, his lips instinctively fluttering to return the pressure.
You broke the contact instantly, sliding back just an inch. The sudden void left him gasping, his eyes snapping open in a look of sheer panic.
"What did I tell you, Michael?" you asked, your voice a low, melodic reprimand.
He looked as though he had been physically struck, his expression crumbling into a mask of devastation. "I'm sorry," he breathed, his voice cracking. "I just... I love you so much, I couldn't help it." He didn't move from his knees; he remained there, anchored by his own shame, looking up at you with eyes that were shimmering and wide.
"One more chance," you murmured, your voice humming with a lingering edge of authority. "But if you move your lips even a fraction of an inch, the kiss is over. Do you understand?"
Slowly, you reached down and slid your fingers into the thick, soft curls at the nape of his neck. The moment you touched him, a long, low moan escaped his throat—a sound of absolute relief, as if a crushing weight had been lifted from his lungs. He leaned into your palm, his cheek pressing against your hand with a desperate, feline intensity, seeking out every bit of warmth he could find. He was no longer fighting the urge to move; he was simply melting, his entire body sagging under the sudden return of your grace.
"I can't do it. I can't just... take it," he sobbed, the sound muffled against the fabric of your leggings. He gripped the hem of your clothes with trembling fingers, not pulling, but anchoring himself as if he might float away into the void of your disapproval. "Please, please let me kiss you back. I'll be good, I'll be so good for the rest of my life. Just let me feel you properly. Please, my love, please."
He looked up at you, his face a map of absolute devotion and distress. The composure he maintained for the world had been stripped away, leaving behind a man who was entirely, helplessly yours. He began to make promises in a breathless rush—promises to anticipate every need before you even voiced it, to spend every evening massaging your feet until they forgot the memory of those heels, to be the most attentive partner in existence. Each vow was punctuated by a small, desperate shake of his head, his eyes searching yours for a flicker of mercy.
You hold a blank expression on your face before slowly nodding your head, giving him permission before leaning in.
Once your lips connect, he wastes no time in returning the same energy. His arms find your waist, frantically wanting to be in contact with ALLLL of you. Michael groaned loudly as if he had just tasted the most sweetest desert in all the Earth. The smacking of your lips filled the atmosphere. You had to admit, you missed this just as much as him.
Explosions filled his lower belly and tears threatened to spill out. In between kisses, he muttered many “I love you”s and “I’m so sorry”s.
You smiled against his soft lips knowing damn well you had already forgiven him…
Reminder my babies that any requests are open😘😘!!
also, can someone teach me how to make your title a fade of different colours 😭😭 I think it’s pretty cool!!
