you’re my only bambi, bambi
pairing 𝜗𝜚 otw!michael jackson x black!fem!reader
synopsis 𝜗𝜚 everyone knows that you’re michael’s bambi. except no one knows how deep his infatuation lies.
warnings 𝜗𝜚 suggestive but not explicit smut, michael calls the reader bambi and ma, michael fake shy iykwim
authors note 𝜗𝜚 i’m back to writing fics regularly and i’ll be working on my requests !
word count 𝜗𝜚 2.8k
“𝓼top lookin’ at me like that, bambi.”
that was the nickname michael had been using for the past two years. while it took an elongated period of time for it to grow on you, it surely stuck once it did.
whenever anybody asked him why he called you that, his answer was simple. “she’s got them big doe eyes, just like bambi.”
at a certain point, people—yourself included—eventually stopped questioning him. the nickname became something natural, something expected. whenever people heard bambi, it was instantly associated with you and michael rather than the 1942 animated film.
“like what?” you ask him.
weird, he wants to say. like you know something he isn’t quite ready to admit yet. like you’ve got him all figured out before he can figure himself it.
“i don’t know. like that.”
“whatever.”
you divert your attention back to the scene in front of you. you were initially watching a movie, but michael’s siblings were drowning out any sound that could’ve been coming from the tv. not like you were paying attention, anyway.
you were engrossed in the discussion they were currently having. it started with jackie boasting about his current girlfriend, then somehow snowballed into a full-blown conversation about the ins and outs of relationships, how to tell when someone likes you, and the ignorance that comes before said relationships.
that was what really caught your attention. they started arguing about who tends to be more oblivious during the courting stage—men or women. while you didn’t give a verbal input, the conversation had you deliberating.
you’ve been harboring a crush on michael for five months, now going on six. you deduced that michael was either heavily unaware or just pretending he didn’t know, with the latter being highly unlikely.
you tried to give him small, yet perceptible signs that you liked him. you didn’t want to be forthright and risk him not feeling the same way, thus ruining your friendship.
your hand would linger on his arm too long whenever he told a joke, you’d throw your legs haphazardly over his whenever you sat together, and you started to put tenfold more effort into your outfits whenever you saw him. you’d usually just put on whatever was comfortable for you, knowing you’d be surrounded by him and his family, whom you’ve known for years.
yet, all of your efforts seemed to go unnoticed. it was never anything more than michael’s eyes concentrating on you whenever your shorts rose too high, or his breath hitching when your hand stayed on him for too long. but it was never anything that directly confirmed his feelings for you.
“i mean, how do you really know when someone likes you back?” jermaine asks.
“when they make it obvious they care, duh.”
suddenly, multiple pairs of eyes are focused on you, michael included. it’s the first thing you’ve added to their conversation all night; it’s no wonder they’re suddenly so interested.
“what you mean?” jackie asks.
“like,” you pause before continuing your sentence, “when they take their time to learn the little things about you. like if someone was to know that my favorite disney movie is bambi.”
“your nickname is literally bambi, girl. that ain’t no secret,” jermaine adds.
you hate that his sentence drags a laugh out of you. you want to be serious to get your point across, but he wasn’t wrong. it definitely wasn’t a secret that one of your favorite movies was bambi, given the nickname that michal designated to you.
“boy, you know what i mean. it’s the little things that matter!”
you add no more to the conversation, having nothing else to say. you’ve verbalized how you feel about something, giving signs that they like you. the small, almost insignificant things mattered more to you than any extravagant declaration of love.
what you failed to notice was the way michael drank in every word of your sentence, intently listening. it was like he was making a mental note of everything that gave you clear indications that somebody liked you, that he liked you.
“d’you like these?”
michael held up a pair of tank tops—pink, teal, and white. you had recently complained to him that you felt like you had a sparse collection of tank tops, and you didn’t know what to do under the blazing heat of the summer sun.
you weren’t asking him anything; you simply needed to complain about your vacant wardrobe. you were planning to take a trip to the mall within the next few days, but by the looks of it, michael beat you to it.
“oh, i love them!”
you throw your arms around his neck, embracing him in a hug. you rock both of you back and forth until he’s laughing and telling you “alright, ma,” and pulling you away from him via your waist.
you’re quick to take the tank tops and hold them up to your frame in his full-body mirror, already envisioning how you’d style them. you were picturing outfits in your mind rapidly.
“mike, these are gonna be so cute!” you exclaim, still holding them up to your body.
“i’m glad you like ‘em. i remember you were telling me how you needed some.”
you throw the hangers carelessly onto michael’s bed. then, you fling your body towards where he’s sitting. he steadies you by your waist, but the two of you still fall backwards against the mattress.
you’re practically smothering him with a hug, your front pressed against his. the room is a mixture of your squeals and his laughter. it’s evident that you’re enjoying the gift and he’s enjoying how content you are with it.
“you’re the best ever. who else would buy me something ‘cause i mentioned it once?”
“i’m the best you’ll ever have, bambi, i know. now please get off me.”
he comes off like the weight of your body is the issue, but it’s not that. the way your breasts were smushed against his chest was distracting, truly. he wouldn’t be able to focus on another word coming out of your mouth if both of you stayed in this position.
you remove your body from his with a groan, sitting back on his bed. he releases a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding once the weight of your chest is lifted from his. this wasn’t the ideal situation for him to have a hard-on, especially when you were so close, and you’d undoubtedly feel it.
“‘m serious, mike. i know it seems small, but it means a lot to me.”
you sound so unalloyed, meaning everything you’re saying. while you did verbalize how much little things meant to you, this was his first time actually experiencing it.
“i got you. don’t worry.”
“turn around. ‘n close your eyes.”
if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that those are the exact words michael would say to you in bed. his arms resting on your hips or holding your arms behind your back as he pistoned into you from behind, ugh!
you do exactly what he says without questioning him. you trusted him more than you trusted anyone else. what’s the worst that could come out of him telling you to turn around and close your eyes?”
you feel a cool metal resting against your neck—a necklace, you presume.
your hands search for the pendant, yet you don’t recognize it. it’s not something as simple as a heart or a bow. it almost feels like an initial, but you’re not sure.
“open your eyes.”
once you do, you look down, and to your not-so-surprise, your necklace is adorned by your initial.
two weeks ago, your initial necklace clasp had broken, rendering it useless. you weren’t surprised because it was a cheap necklace, but you were sad about it nonetheless.
you hadn’t even told michael it was broken. you hadn’t complained as you did about your lack of tank tops. you simply stopped wearing the necklace and thought about when you’d feel like going to get another one.
“mike!” you squeal.
you hug him like you usually do when you’re this happy—arms around his neck and body pressed all the way into his. his arms wrap around your waist like it’s second nature.
“you always get me the best gifts ever,” you gush.
he pats your waist twice before responding. “‘course i do. you think i don’t pay attention?”
“i think you pay too much attention.”
you both laugh, but it wasn’t much of a joke. michael had a habit of noticing the most minuscule of things, sometimes even before you noticed them.
your mind drifts back to the conversation you had with jackie and jermaine. michael does the exact things you’d look for in a partner. it feels weird to think about your best friend in a romantic light, but he literally checks off all your metaphorical boxes when it comes to what you want in a partner.
he’s attentive, caring, and so gentle. ugh, you should not be thinking about your best friend like this! especially when there are no clear signs that he returns your feelings.
you’d either have to get over it or tell him how you felt. you were going with the former option until further notice.
“i’m always paying attention to you, bambi.”
maybe you weren’t going crazy.
maybe your suspicions, your theories, were being confirmed in real time.
maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that michael liked you back.
recently, you’ve been pondering his actions lately. you said it was the little things that matter to you, that made you know when someone actually liked you.
ever since that conversation, you feel like michael’s been noticing every little thing in your life. your lack of tank tops, when your necklace broke, hell, he even knows how you’re feeling before you do!
was this something you could pass off as platonic, or were your dreams coming true? did your best friend reciprocate your feelings after all?
there was only one real way for you to find out. although you refused to admit your feelings to him outwardly, you weren’t against beating around the bush to figure out a thing or two.
michael’s lying on his bed with you next to him. your legs and thrown over his lap and he’s rubbing his hands up and down them.
a movie’s playing, but neither of you are paying much attention to it. you’ve been too engrossed in the conversation you’ve been having to worry about what was playing on michael’s box television.
“i think i’m really bad at reading people at times.”
it’s not your everyday statement, but you and him are talking about a little bit of everything right now. topics have ranged from the film you’re watching—which should really be the main topic of discussion—plans for the summer, and how you’re not fond of people who don’t pick up social cues.
“what makes you say that?” he questions you.
“i dunno. like i don’t know how someone’s feeling unless they, like, directly tell me.”
michael’s silent for a long moment. you conclude that he needs time to fully articulate himself before giving you a verbal response.
“so you couldn’t guess how i’m feeling right now?”
“absolutely not,” your reply is instant, “you’re happy right now? i have no clue.”
“sounds about right. maybe you ain’t too bad at reading people,” he jests.
“it’s different ‘cause you’re my best friend and i’m with you all of the time.”
“yeah,” michael mutters. his voice is quiet, different from the noisy tone of voice he usually takes when speaking to you.
“what?” you ask him.
he suddenly got quiet after you called him your best friend and stated that you spent the majority of your time with him. quiet in an extremely unusual way—your michael was nothing less than loud.
“it’s nothin’.”
“don’t be weird, mike.”
he doesn’t look directly at you, still failing to respond to you.
“mike,” you nudge his shoulder with your hand, “stop bein’ weird.”
“i’m not being weird.”
“you are! we were jus’ talkin’ and then you went all quiet on me.”
“what else am i ‘posed to say when you call me your best friend?”
you’re unable to formulate a response for a long moment. if you weren’t mistaken, michael just inadvertently admitted that he didn’t like being referred to as your best friend, even if that’s what he is at the moment.
“what?”
“forget it.”
michael pushes your legs off his, moving to stand up from his sitting position on the bed. before he’s able to get far, you’re tugging him back down to sit beside you. you refused to let this conversation end abruptly and so awkwardly.
“i’m not forgettin’ shit, mike. talk to me like a normal person.”
“don’t cuss at me.”
you roll your eyes because of course, that’s what he cares about in the moment.
“what did you mean by that?” you ask him.
if you had to endure another moment of silence—michael taking far too long to respond to you—you’d be ripping your hair out from the scalp. you wanted to have a cohesive conversation without long moments of silence.
“i mean that i don’t jus’ wanna be your best friend. you talk about how the little things make it clear that somebody likes you back, but i do the little things, and nothing comes of it. forget i said anything—“
you place your hand on his thigh, dangerously high, to prevent him from speaking any further. his breath hitches, but he quickly regains his composure.
“i said all of that ‘cause i wanted you to notice.”
it felt like an invisible weight had been lifted from your shoulders. not only did michael confirm his feelings for you, but you were also able to express how you’ve been feeling for what feels like forever. but in reality it was half a year.
“believe when i tell you i noticed, bambi. the tank tops ‘n the necklace? i was a day away from buying you some versace.”
you slap his shoulder in chide, though it’s not nearly enough to hurt him. “why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“‘cause there was always a chance you didn’t like me back. i didn’t wanna risk it and then lose you forever.”
“d’awhh, you’re so sweet. you could never lose me,” you smush your cheek against the side of his arm, gazing up at him through your lashes.
michael would be melting right now if he had no self-restraint. you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever seen, and he can’t believe he has you in his bedroom confessing your feelings to him.
he can’t help but think of everything else you could be doing in his room right now. he’s spent months, bordering on a year, thinking about what you’d look like underneath him.
writhing, whining out his name. he’d give you anything you’d ask for if you looked up at him through your eyelashes like you’re doing now. he’d go down on you for hours, or he would watch your facial expressions as you fell apart on his dick.
“‘cause i’d never allow myself to lose you, bambi,”
upon hearing his words, you sit on your knees to press a chaste kiss to his lips. the feeling of your mouth on his is gone as quickly as it came.
michael’s flushed, but not more than you. someone would assume you were doing far more lurid activities, given the bashful look on your face.
“what was that?” he asks you.
“a kiss. you didn’t like it?”
“i think i need another one to come to a conclusion.”
you lean up to press another fleeting kiss to michael’s lips, but his hand is holding your face and he’s forcing your lips open before you can fully comprehend. his tongue presses against yours, your hands fly up to his hair, tugging on a few strands.
the groan he lets out is the fuel you need to continue. without breaking the kiss, michael effortlessly moves you so that you’re sitting on his lap.
you’re the first to pull away, fearing you’d lose yourself when you and michael had just figured everything out.
“mike…”
“‘m sorry bambi, i couldn’t help myself,” he grins at you.
you couldn’t be mad at him even if you tried. you definitely weren’t expecting him to deepen the kiss, but his hands on your waist and his lips on yours were enough to erase any previous ire.
“we jus’ got together ‘n all, i don’t wanna move too fast. plus your whole family is downstairs right now.”
“i wouldn’t care if the entirety of california was downstairs right now. nothin’ matters if i get to have you.”
your head drops to his neck as if that would actually hide you from him. you feel like you could traverse the entire state and he’d still be able to locate you, no matter what.
“don’t be embarrassed, bambi. we won’t do anythin’ until you’re ready.”
you let out a sigh of relief, making the mistake of thinking anything michael said would permanently put your mind at ease.
“but until then, can i get another kiss?”
