⋆˚꩜｡find me a girl ⋆˚꩜｡
featuring: otw!michael x black!fem reader
synopsis: your five year friend-iversary turned into a confession of feelings between you and michael.
content warning: 18+, MDNI—inexperienced michael, experienced reader, oblivious reader, kissing, spit play, dry humping, cumming in pants, sub!michael, no use of y/n
notes: i know michael didn’t write find me a girl, but this is fiction ok :’) also, whoever came up with the nickname "tink," i owe you my first born. p.s. please never let dry humping die
michael had been humming the same six notes for the better part of three hours.
it started at breakfast—scratch that—before breakfast.
you'd gotten to hayvenhurst at eight a.m. to start the day. it had been five years since you and michael met. he insisted you come near sunrise so you two could spend the entire day hanging out.
you woke up extra early to find the perfect outfit to wear. you didn't know why you cared so much, but it was something about getting compliments from your favorite person that made your cheeks red hot and your heart pump a little quicker.
when you arrived, you greeted the staff, then made your way up what felt like a million steps. you would've stopped at janet's room, but you knew how she felt about being conversational before ten, so instead, you kept walking until you made it to michael's bedroom.
you knocked twice, then heard a muffled, "come in."
you pushed the door open with a wide grin. "g’morning, mikey," you beamed, then made your way over to where he was sitting on the edge of his bed.
he looked up from the notebook which was oddly balanced on his knees, his face immediately brightening when his eyes landed on you. "mornin', tink," he smiled, "you're early."
you glanced down at your watch as you made your way to sit beside him, "you said eight."
"i know," he looked back down at the notebook, trying—and failing—to hide his amusement, "i didn't think you'd actually listen. ya' never do."
you nudged his shoulder with yours before looking down at his notebook that was filled with scribble, then back at him, "you've been up a while?"
"mm-hm."
"working?" you asked, though it wasn’t really a question. you knew the second you walked in.
"tryin' to," he sighed in defeat, rubbing the back of his neck, "i can't get this melody out of my head," he tapped his fingers against his thigh and hummed the melody again, almost under his breath, "it's drivin' me crazy, tink."
you tilted your head, contemplating for another second, "well, it sounds good," you say, "just put it on a demo tape."
"that's just it, i usually have some idea of lyrics when i record a demo. i got nothin' right now."
you huffed before setting the notebook aside and standing. “c’mere,” his hands were resting in his lap when you intertwined yours into them. your hands disappeared almost entirely in his. you leaned back with a tug until he let out a laugh and let you pull him to his feet.
he smelled like soap and mint, your two favorite scents of his. you pushed the thought far, far into your head before your cheeks gave you away. "it'll come to you, mikey. just give it the day—an' don't stress." your voice grew soft as you squeezed his hands, "'cause when you're stressed, i am, too."
he looked down at you for a second longer than usual with those warm brown eyes and that little smile that formed whenever you were in proximity, "'yeah," he answered quietly, then he pressed a kiss to your forehead that could only have meant a friendly thank you, right? “you look…” he blushed, “beautiful.”
you fought back the biggest grin, knowing his compliments made your stomach do flips, “thanks, mikey,”
"what do you wanna get into first? it's still early and not many places are open yet."
you hum, "for starters, i'd like to eat."
ten minutes later, the kitchen smelled like a bakery.
you watched as michael cooked.
you pinched the bridge of your nose, "you're makin' 'em too big, michael," you groan, watching as he pours five pounds of batter in the pan.
he didn’t even spare you a glance, only continued pouring. "they're pancakes, tink, they come in all sorts'a sizes.”
you looked over his shoulder to make a smart remark, like always, "this one's the size of a frisbee." you pointed to the one he’d plated.
his shoulders bounced with a quiet laugh, then before you're able to say anything else, he hums the same melody again. no changes in tone, nothing. just the same six notes. "still findin' it?"
he let out a long breath, "somethin' like that."
"well," you say to change the topic, "today’s special, so let's focus on that!" you can’t help the smile that grew across your face.
"special?" a familiar voice questions. his mother, katherine, appeared in the kitchen tying her thick robe.
"yep," you respond, "five years to the day since i met the biggest pain in my behind," you joke, earning a playful shove from michael.
five years ago today, you had walked into a record store looking to lift your spirits. your dog had been put down merely days before. he was old, and your parents kept reminding you that he'd lived a long and happy life, but that didn't make coming home to an empty house any easier.
music had been your comfort for as long as you could remember. there was comfort in hearing your favorite songs. so, you went looking for one of marvin gaye's albums.
the store clerk came back from checking inventory with an apologetic look. "sorry, we actually just sold the last copy yesterday."
you tried to hide your immense disappointment, but your shoulders dropped anyway, and you let out a quiet sigh. "oh, it's okay. thanks."
you were about to leave when you heard a soft, expressive voice behind you, "'scuse me, miss."
you turned toward the voice and was met with a tall boy that stood a few feet away, holding a stack of vinyls against his chest. you recognized the curls immediately. it was difficult not to.
michael jackson.
in that moment, though, he didn't look like the guy everyone knew from television or the stage. he just looked like someone who noticed you were upset.
"i, um... think i have that album."
you blinked, "you do?"
he nodded, afro moving as he did so, "yeah, i do." a small smile tugged at his lips as he held your gaze. your eyes were glossy from all the tears you'd cried, but he saw beyond that. "you can borrow mine."
you laughed surprisingly, because you thought he was joking, "you'd let a stranger borrow your record?"
he shrugged, "why not? it's just a record," he didn't come off as if he was trying to impress you. he was simply a naturally kind soul. "i live close by, you're welcome to come listen, if you want."
you raised your eyebrows. "you invite everyone you just met to your house?"
a genuine laugh left him, his smile so broad that it reached his eyes. "no," he paused, "but it looked like you really wanted to hear it."
you hesitated, still. "i don't even know you."
he smiled softly, knowing you were right. "i'm michael." you introduced yourself as well. "now you know me, tink." the nickname slipped out naturally.
you giggled quietly at the name, looking down at the record in his hands, then back up at him. "tink?"
he hung his head to the floor, a little embarrassed, "i dunno. it just came out, i guess."
you should've declined. you knew that. you didn't know the man—not really. you only knew what everyone else did. his voice, his music, and his face on magazine covers.
but standing there, he didn't feel like some superstar. he felt like someone who noticed you were having a bad day.
"you don't have to stay long," he added quickly. he caught the uncertainty spread across your face, "you can just listen to the record and leave."
you thought for a moment, "okay."
his entire face lit up. "okay?"
"okay."
"wonderful," he gleamed, then looked down at the many records he was still holding, "i should probably put these back before we go."
you nodded and laughed under your breath, "definitely."
after recalling the day you met your best friend, you look to michael again, "y'know, i still can't believe i trusted you enough to get in bill's car with you. you were weirdly convincing."
"i was nice."
you titled your head jokingly, "you were famous."
"that too, tink," he grinned, going back to flipping his next frisbee—or pancake.
"still callin' her tink after all these years, huh?" katherine asked, leaning on the wall beside the stove with a glimmer of knowing in her eye.
michael didn't respond, probably out of embarrassment. he only went back to humming the same tune.
"maybe after breakfast we can head to the same record store, mikey," you suggested, "did you have anything else planned already?"
"well—" he started.
"besides twister." you interjected, causing him to shake his head no. "then great! let's eat then we'll head out."
you two then spent about two hours silently flipping through records. every so often, one of you would hold up an album with raised eyebrows, waiting for the other’s approval.
some people hate silence, but being able to be in a comfortable silence with someone you admired was heartwarming.
but, just as you two came shoulder to shoulder, the melody became louder in your ear.
you closed your eyes for a second, stifling a laugh, "michael," you put down the beach boys record you were holding, "either sing the whole thing or stop torturing me," you say with a half smile.
"i have somewhat of an idea," he reveals, finally you thought, "find me a girl is what's in my head,"
"go on..."
"i just dunno what kind of girl i'm writin' about yet," he drops his shoulders, "i've never dated a girl, let alone kissed one."
"that's nothin' to be 'shamed of, mikey," you reassured as you absentmindedly wiped a little lint off of his jacket, "lots of people haven't."
"but,” he glanced at you, “you have." he murmured.
you sighed, "i've kissed the wrong people, michael. i'd much rather be like you,” you shrugged, “and just wait for the right one."
his head lifted, "what's the right one to you?”
"hm," you muttered, "someone that's kind," you start, "and patient. someone who i can laugh with without feeling embarrassed." michael is hanging onto your every word, not missing a beat. "someone who will consider my feelings—and someone honest."
while you spoke, the person who flashed across your mind was michael. he's kind even when he's bothered—though his face will say it all if his mouth doesn't. he's patient in every regard whenever it comes to you, and he's constantly considering you.
the rest of the day went by quickly, and you two were now in the backyard of the hayvenhurst house. you'd just helped him walk louie up and down the neighborhood.
it was moments like those you held onto the most. just the two of you, neither of you performing for an audience. somewhere in your walk, the melody he’d been toying with finally came together. as well as more riffs. he had enough to where it was now stuck in your head.
you sat on the knitted blanket you made for michael on his nineteenth birthday, only a month prior. it had taken you longer to make than you revealed to michael.
you were both looking at the stars—or at least you were.
every now and again, you felt like michael took his eyes off of the sky and had them on you instead.
the air was warm and inviting. somewhere nearby, sprinklers had kicked on. typical for california in the early fall.
"y'know, tink," he broke the silence, causing you to look over to him, "i don’t think you realize how much my life got better when you came into it," you smiled in response. "before i met you, i would sometime come out here and just… wish for someone who understood me."
"that's sweet, mikey," you coo, "i feel the same way. i never told you this, but the day we met, my dog had recently died. i was miserable," you confess, "but somehow, seeing you—before i even knew you, i had a feeling you'd become important to me."
his eyebrows furrowed, "why didn't ya' tell me?"
you laughed softly, "'cause michael, you're the biggest friend of the animals. you would've offered to get me a new pet before i could say no."
"thas' not true, i would've been better able to console you. 'm sorry,"
your chest tightened—not for the first time, but this time you were ready to acknowledge it. "there's no need to apologize. you were everything i needed that day." you whispered. "i'm glad i'm here with you."
"can i tell ya' something?" michael whispered, and you nod in response. he looked anywhere except for your eyes, "i love you, tink."
you two said you loved each other all the time so you didn't understand his hesitance this time. you giggled, "i love you too, mikey,"
he shook his head in slight frustration, "no, i mean i love you in a different way a best friend should." your eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "whenever i go to sleep, i'm thinkin' 'bout you. when i wake up, i'm doin’ the same thing. i haven't stopped for the past five years, and i don't wanna waste another five not tellin’ you how i feel."
you're at a loss for words. this had been what you wanted to hear since the day you met. you could tell this was a lot for him to confess, so you just let him continue.
"i don't want you thinkin' our friendship was based on a lie 'cause every time i thought about you, i reminded myself of how much i value you as my friend. i didn't want ta' ruin anything, so i kept quiet." his voice softened, "it pained me having to hear about the guys in your life. it should've been me carressin' ya' and makin' 'ya feel good."
he averted his eyes away from you, causing you to pick up his chin with your hand forcing him to look at you. "can i kiss you, michael?" you asked, hoping and praying he'd say yes.
"i-i've never... i dunno—"
"i know, mikey. just let me guide you, 'kay?"
you leaned in first, and he followed. you gently parted your lips to take his, and as soon as your lips touched, something fiery ignited in the both of you. just as quickly as the kiss started, it became hungry.
your tongues were swirling against each others and your bodies were pressed together heatedly. you kissed and nibbled at his bottom lip, which resulted in a soft, desperate moan to escape him.
your hands moved in his hair, grabbing a good fistful. you gently, but firmly yanked his head back to get a better view of his neck. the sight of just that made a pool of wetness form beneath you.
you crossed one of your legs on the other side of him and placed yourself in his lap, flush to his dick that was pressed hard against his jeans.
with your left hand still full of his hair, you used your right hand to stroke his dick under you. "is this okay?" you whispered in his ear, never stopping.
"mmh," michael muttered.
"'m gonna need you to use your words, sweet boy," you say, dragging your tongue across his ear, licking and sucking, "is this what you want?"
"y-yes," he breathed, "yes."
your hand was steady as as it moved back and forth—up and down on his length. he had to be at least eight inches. how you were going to fit him inside of you was a matter for future you.
you had your hand tightly wrapped around the outline of him, and the feeling was making you even hornier.
you then moved the same hand that was rubbing his dick, up to his neck. you didn't press too firmly—you didn't want him to cum just yet.
you replaced your hand with the warmth of your crotch, which he seemed to enjoy. his hips bucked and you both began rocking and grinding against each other.
loud groans escaped you both. you were drunk off of him and he was writing under your touch.
you kissed him again, no longer starting with just a peck. your tongue made its way into his mouth, and he happily let it inside.
the hand you had in his hair finally gave him a break, and you moved it to his jaw, just as he finally mustered up the courage to place his hands on you. he positioned both of his hands on your waist and held them there.
with the hand you now have on his jaw, you broke away from the kiss, looking at him while his chest rose and fell. "open your mouth," you said, voice low and sultry, "and keep your eyes on me, angel."
and without protest, michael obeyed. his jaw fell open as you raised up a little higher, gathered some saliva on your tongue, and slowly pursed your lips so your spit could fall slowly into his mouth.
he let out small sounds of pleasure, completely aroused by the idea of you having complete dominance and control over him.
michael savored it, then swallowed it all, his eyes never leaving yours.
you gave a slight grin and you positioned yourself back down, perfectly aligned with his crotch, and started ferociously moving against him. "you're s’big, mikey," you moaned, "i can feel you… s’big.”
his hands moved from the small of your waist, to your round ass. he firmly held you in place, pushing you down and rocking back and forth. rough groans escaped him and that only turned you on more.
the idea of sweet, innocent michael becoming feral, eager michael excited you.
"c-can i finish?" he begged, "'m so close, mama,"
you mused him, "not yet, baby," you began using him for your own pleasure, using your hips to get you both exactly where you needed to be, "i'm almost there, let's cum together, ‘kay?" you managed to say as your orgasm crept up on you.
he caught your mouth with his and latched on, sucking and biting until you give the okay, "are you ready, mikey?" you muttered, "are you ready to cum?"
"mmh," he groaned, "i'm c-cumming—" your name fell from his lips like a prayer. over and over again he called out your name, eyes fluttering to the back of their sockets.
his hips began rocking even quicker, if even humanly possible, and your knees started to feel weak. you held your breath for a second, then started breathing through your nose as your orgasm crashed into you.
at the same time, michael’s hips began to stutter and he was letting out incoherent words and whimpers.
you both were breathing heavy when you felt more warmth beneath you. michael's cum was leaking through his jeans, and he started blushing in embarrassment. "i-i'm sorry, tink, i didn't mean to get carried away."
you looked at him, eyes full of both love and admiration, "it's okay, i liked it—seeing you let go, i mean."
he grinned, "y-yeah, that was a lot." he pressed a lingering, assuring kiss to your lips, and started giggling to himself.
"what?"
"it's just..." he started, "i've wanted you for s'long, i can't believe this happened."
"i've wanted you too, mikey. i'm glad tonight was the night you chose to tell me." you smiled at him. "c'mon," you said, and you both got up, "let's get cleaned up."
once you were both on your feet, about to walk into the house, he stopped and grabbed your hand. "wait, tink," you turned to face him, "i want ya' to be my girl,” his smile was shy, “i know i said i don’t want ta’ lose what we have,” he started softly, “and i mean that. you’re still my best friend. you’ll always be my best friend.” his thumb brushed back and forth over your hand.
you lifted yourself up on your toes to peck him on his cheek, "i'd like that very much."
you both were grinning like two cheshire cats when you added, "maybe now you can record your find me a girl demo."
"yeah," he vouched, "now that i have my girl."
• • •
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