bambi eyes (3) r. cameron
[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
word count: 3.4k
In which you do your best to deal with your Daddy's mood swings.
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You felt like you were seeing Rafe less and less as the next two weeks went on. He was stressed about what was going on with work. He often paced back and forth in front of you, ranting, although he was never specific about the details of what was going on.
You noticed that he grabbed you tighter, pushed you harder into the mattress, and talked less during sex whenever something outside was affecting him. You were starting to accept it; it never hurt too much, and you’d be more scared if he weren’t interested in you in that way. If he didn’t want to be intimate with you, then there was a chance he wouldn’t want you anymore.
As much as Rafe promised you this was permanent, you couldn’t fully believe him. He had done all of this just for you, so you had to be able to offer him something special in return.
Like Rafe wanted, you established a routine. Every morning the birds would wake you up exactly at eight, and you’d make your bed which kept you from napping all day. Staying in your room was causing your imagination to stretch. You found new ways to entertain yourself, including trying on all the clothes in your wardrobe and throwing elaborate tea parties with all your stuffed animals and dolls.
One night that you thought would be like the last twelve nights, Rafe came to you after Lana had already brought you dinner. He wasn’t dressed in his usual khakis and dress shirt but in sweatpants and a pullover. You were curled up on the window seat, drawing flowers in a notebook, when Rafe came over to join you.
“Hi,” You spoke softly. He placed a warm hand on your knee, and you slowly closed your notebook.
“Hi, baby,” There was an ease and calmness to his voice that made you believe he’d actually had a good day, “What are you working on? Show me.”
You sat up, leaning closer, as you handed him the notebook. You hid slightly behind your knees as Rafe began to flip through the pages. At this point, you’d covered half of the pages in your doodles, “Oh wow, these are really pretty, Bambi,” He smiled with his entire face, including his bright eyes, “We should hang some of these on the fridge.”
You felt a bit of relief, hearing that he liked him, “I have more. Way more. I’ve colored a lot of the coloring books.”
“Go get them, I’ll pick my favorites,” Excitedly, you got up from the window seat. When you set several full coloring books in his lap, Rafe’s lips parted in shock, “Okay, wow, I don’t think I realized how much coloring you’d been doing.”
“I think it’s fun,” You said.
“Good, I want you to have fun,” Rafe nodded, “But have you worn down all your color pencils? How come you haven’t asked for more?”
You shrugged when Rafe gave you an inquisitive look, “I try to take care of the ones I have.”
“Would you even ask Daddy for more coloring books if you ran out of pages to color?”
“Maybe,” You spoke honestly.
The idea of asking for more than what Rafe had already given you did make your heart race. Rafe shook his head at something, “Daddy will get you lots more art supplies. Maybe you could try painting?”
“We could paint together?” You perked up.
“Yeah, yeah,” Rafe assured you, “I’m really, really sorry I haven’t been here as much as I’ve wanted to. Needed to, really. It’s just … I’m working on a lot of things right now, you know?”
“I’ve been okay,” You said, “Lana has been kind to me.”
“Good, good, I want you to be happy here, you know? That’s why I want you comfortable asking for things,” You watched Rafe’s eyes wander towards the bookshelf, “Like your books. I never see you reading them. Do you not like them?”
“I do,” You said quickly.
Rafe started to stare deeply at you, “What-what is it?”
“I . . . “
“I can pick some different ones for you? What do you like?”
“I like it when you read to me, Daddy,” Rafe tilted his head and the mentioning of his nickname didn’t light up his features like usual, “It’s hard for me. I never needed to … do that.”
He paused, which made you think you’d done something wrong, “You’ve never needed to read?”
“I can do it,” You said, “It’s hard when they’re all together, and there’s so many… the words. I’m sorry you think I don’t like the books you picked. I really do. I will try harder–”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Rafe rushed to put the coloring books aside and grab ahold of your face, “I just didn’t know, that’s it. You didn’t do anything wrong. At all.”
It wasn’t something you’d ever felt embarrassed about, but now you couldn’t help but feel stupid. Deep down, you felt a guy like Rafe deserved someone better. He deserved someone smarter than you.
You closed your eyes, wanting to hang your head, but Rafe said, “Look at me, hey,” Weakly, you did, “I’ve been thinking that you should spend more time with Lana instead of being cooped up in here. At least until I can take care of this … one problem I have. She’d be happy to have some company. And, if you want to learn, she could help you with your reading.”
“You don’t care?”
“Not at all, look, don’t worry. I’ve got you, sweet girl,” He said. Rafe leaned in to peck your nose before he brought your lips together. You melted into him, realizing then how much you missed him when he was gone, “You know what I was thinking?”
You stared back at Rafe, who had a mischievous look in his eye.
“We should take the boat out.”
“Now? Where?”
“Just on a short ride to get you some fresh air. It’ll be cold, so let’s find you some warmer clothes, yeah?”
It was a rhetorical question; Rafe was already making his way over to your wardrobe. You looked down at the small silk pajama set you were wearing. You’d seen all the boats out by the dock but hadn’t imagined that Rafe would take you out on one. “Lift your arms,” You did exactly as he said, pulling a light blue sweatshirt over your head. He also chose long pajama bottoms, helping you get into those, too, “You want to bring one of your stuffies?”
Your excitement mixed with your anxiety as you put on your slippers. It was a hard decision to make about which stuffed animal you wanted to bring, but you settled on Fin, your silvery-blue dolphin, “Excellent choice.”
Rafe grabbed your hand, leading you downstairs, “Do you think we’ll see a real dolphin?”
“Well, they tend to be more active during the day, and it’ll be dark soon … but maybe if you wish really, really hard.”
The air was much cooler outside than you expected, and you certainly didn’t expect it to feel so strange being in the fresh air. You turned in a circle just so you could take in the sky, the trees, the house, and everything around you.
You followed a determined Rafe across the yard and towards the deck. He chose one of the smaller boats, although there was room for at least four more people. You yelped when Rafe grabbed you by your waist suddenly and lifted you inside. Another yelp escaped your lips as the boat rocked under the pressure of your weight, “You’re okay, don’t worry,” He didn’t have to tell you to take a seat or be still; you decided you wouldn’t move at all, “One . . . moment.”
You watched through the corner of your eyes as Rafe untied the roaps keeping the boat tethered to the dock. The boat rocked again as Rafe hopped inside, causing you to grip Fin in one hand and grip the side of the boat in the other.
You sat in the seat right across from Rafe as the boat slowly pulled off towards deeper water. As the boat became more steady, you turned your head and watched Tannyhill get smaller and smaller. The orange and blue sky reflected off the water, creating an insanely beautiful view. You sailed towards the horizon, the son looking half submerged in the water, “How do you feel?” Rafe yelled over the sound of the motor, “Wanna go faster?”
You nodded, a smile growing on your face, “My little daredevil, huh?” You sat up on your knees, wanting to see more. You get a better look at Figure 8, seeing lots of huge houses along the beach, although none of them compare to Tannyhill. Rafe pointed out different landmarks for you, including the country club and a huge lighthouse out in the water. In your eyes, this night made every other night where you worried about your place with Rafe worth it.
“Go ahead, you can give it a taste test,” Lana conceded, allowing you to dip your finger into the chocolate cake batter. A few days after your night out with Rafe, Lana was showing you how to make the perfect chocolate cake. You thought she might be exaggerating about how perfect it was until you were licking your finger. An excited moan left your mouth and you bounced on the balls of your feet, “It’s great, isn’t it? Espresso powder is the key.”
“It really is,” You agreed.
“Now, wash your hands. It’s time to pour our batter.”
The entire day Lana had told you exactly what to do and how to do it. You didn’t mind listening or following her directions as she usually spoke to you warmly. Besides that, you wanted to learn exactly how to take care of things around the house, knowing that Rafe would appreciate your help when Lana couldn’t be here. The two of you cleaned the entire downstairs, did several loads of laundry, washed the windows in the glass patio, and even had time for a reading lesson in the early morning. She informed you that she homeschooled her youngest son and that she would try to teach you in a similar way.
As you washed your hands, you glanced out the side window towards the dock. You could see Rafe far out on the dock, standing with the same business associate who came to the house a few weeks ago. They weren’t alone like you were expecting; someone was on their knees a few feet ahead of them, their head slumped over. You squinted your eyes, trying to see more of them, although Rafe and his business associate shouting at each other blocked your view, “What are they doing out there? Who’s that?” Lana came over to where you were standing, peeking out just like you were.
Whatever business Rafe was involved in, Lana didn’t seem to care for it, “Mr. Cameron and Barry, they’re always at each other’s throats,” She shook her head, “Come, dry your hands. The oven is heated.”
You did as she said, turning your head away. There were going to be several layers to your cake, meaning you had three pans to fill, and after that, you and Lana would make the icing. Just as your mind wandered back to Rafe, you heard him coming through the kitchen door.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead, pacing for a moment before his dark eyes landed on you, “Bambi, let’s … uhm, go upstairs,” His voice was shaky and deeper than normal, “Come here.”
“We’re-We’re just about to put the cake in the oven. It’s for tonight, and we’re going to make homemade icing too–”
“Now …please,” He said the last word like it was painful, “It’s time for you to go back to your room.”
No, no, no, a voice repeated in your head.
“But Lana was going to teach me how to ice the cake, too and she —”
“Fine,” Rafe snapped, his hand slamming against the counter before he rolled his eyes, “Just stay here.”
As Rafe stomped away, you knew you had something horribly wrong. You’d seen him in a similar mood before but he never directed any of his vitriol towards you before. Whatever had happened on the dock had clearly upset him. You really wanted to finish working with Lana. More than anything, you didn’t want to be locked in your room for another long period of time.
After taking a breath, or attempting to take one, you turned to Lana, “I didn’t mean… I-I should go say sorry.”
“You might want to let him calm down a little bit, sweetheart,” You’d already made up your mind. You reached behind your neck to undo the top of your apron, “Turn around, let me help you. He’s not mad at you.”
“How do you know?”
“I know who he is,” She spoke simply, “Don’t take anything too personally with Mr. Cameron.”
“You can finish without me; I’m sorry, but thank you for today,” You said as you started to walk away. After you saw her nod, a sad smile on her face, you turned away and sped for the stairs.
You approached Rafe’s bedroom moments later, hesitantly turning the knob, “Daddy?” You called, peeking inside. You called him again. He wasn’t in the main room but the shower was running in the bathroom, “Rafe?”
You jumped when he suddenly appeared in the bathroom doorframe, shirtless and his belt undone. This time, you notice his bruised hands and bloody knuckles.
“I didn’t mean to make you upset, Daddy.”
“Get down on your knees,” He stared you down. When you tried to come closer, he said, “No, drop to your knees right there.”
You felt your knees brush against the bedroom rug, “Crawl to me.”
If Rafe wanted you to feel even smaller, then his plan was successful. You did as he said, seeing no other option, and crawled towards him. You watched as he palmed himself over his briefs, and you could already feel him stretching you, pulling your hair, and leaving marks on your bottom. This wouldn’t last, you told yourself; he would be gentle with you another time.
Your sage dress had ridden up your body, exposing your floral patterned white panties.
“You’re gonna suck my cock and swallow all my cum. And then you’re gonna thank Daddy for letting you.”
You’d do exactly as your Daddy wanted, hoping he’d take your sore throat and tears as a sufficient apology.
Once you were soundly asleep in his bed, Rafe slipped out. He had a huge, bloody problem waiting for him in the cabin of his boat. Luckily, JJ Maybank was still the degenerate he used to be, and no one except his Pogue girlfriend would come looking for him anytime, “Son of a bitch isn’t talking,” Barry grunted out, meeting Rafe at the beginning of the dock, “Knocked two of his bottom teeth out and he’s still not motivated.”
Rafe had done everything possible to limit any competition he might face in Kildare. All small-time dealers would be working for someone who worked for Rafe. This was meant to be Rafe’s island yet somehow, Maybank was getting supplies from the mainland and was stealing his customers.
“We could take his girl.”
Rafe contemplated Barry’s question before shaking his head, “If she comes around trying to find him, we might have no choice. I’m sure that will motivate him.”
Rafe could see Barry’s eyes wandering to Kie. Part of him would love to see JJ squirm if they got their hands on her. You were the reason he didn’t think too long about that. Barry, on the other hand, Rafe would let him do whatever he wanted with Kie. In the end, Rafe wanted JJ to talk, to give up his sources, but he’d be just fine killing him.
“I hope,” Barry crossed his arms, “Not exactly looking forward to dealing with the body.”
“We don’t have to deal with that shit anymore; I know who to pay to handle it,” Rafe said, “Speaking of, I think I-uh need some more security here. I want guards all around the perimeter. Because of the amount of merchandise and if we’re going to be taking captives, you know. I want this place to be a fortress.”
“Your merchandise, huh?” Barry flashed Rafe a knowing look, “You got any liquor in that big house?”
Rafe gestured his head toward the house, signaling to Barry to follow behind him.
“If Kie doesn’t come for him and if he still has no information to offer us, we kill him. No more torture, no mess, one gunshot to the temple,” Rafe instructed, his mind racing with what their next moves should be. The more planning beforehand, the better, and the less likely it would come back to them, “That’ll send a message to the rest of the Pogues too. They work for me, or they work for no one.”
“And after you’ve cornered the market?”
“That’s just the start of everything else,” Rafe led Barry through the first floor, towards his office. Ward always used to keep his office stocked with liquor as it came in handy for important meanings. Rafe learned people will often let down their barriers and concede to more under the influence of alcohol. He opened the door for him, allowing him to enter.
“Whoa,” Barry said, walking inside just as Rafe heard a soft gasp from a familiar voice. Eyebrows raised, Rafe entered behind him to find what had shocked him, “Is this the new Mrs. Cameron?”
With wide eyes, Rafe took you in. You were in the same clothes Rafe left you in, one of his white button-ups and your knee-high socks, “What are you doing down here?” You slowly stepped behind Rafe’s desk, and he could tell you were trying to hide yourself.
“I-I couldn’t find you.”
Rafe’s jaw jutted forward, his arms crossed, as he said, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
Your lips parted to say something, but Barry interrupted, “C’mon, man, it’s not even midnight! Introduce me to your girl. We can all have a drink,” He grabbed ahold of Rafe’s shoulder. You would think Barry had one the lottery based on the look in his eyes. By complete accident, Barry had stumbled on Rafe’s biggest treasure, “I’ll behave, I promise.”
“She doesn’t drink.”
Rafe was frustrated, mostly because he should’ve been keeping closer track of you. He’d given you that necklace for a reason. A new idea crossed his mind, one he wasn’t expecting, and some of his anxiety eased. He was far from embarrassed of you, he’d chosen you for a reason, but part of Rafe wanted Barry to envy him at that moment.
Rafe sighed, waving you closer to the two of them, “Bambi, this is Barry. Barry, this is Bambi,” Smoothly, Rafe grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you into him.
“Hi,” You said shyly, “It’s nice to meet you.”
When Barry held his hands out to you, your eyes darted towards Rafe as if to ask permission. Agreement crossed his face, and Rafe watched you shake his hand. Barry was fully taking you in, of course, but Rafe knew a handshake would be the extent of his closeness with you.
“The pleasure is all mine, beautiful.”
“Chill out, dude. Sit down,” Rafe instructed Barry, pulling you along.
Barry made himself comfortable on the leather couch and Rafe motioned you to sit across in one of the leather chairs.
“How you liking Kildare?”
“It’s really nice,” Rafe heard you respond as he poured two glasses of whiskey for him and Barry, “There’s so many big houses, and … it’s just really pretty.”
“You ain’t seen much then, have you?” Rafe handed Barry his glass, flashing a warning with his eyes, “All the girls where you’re from, they as pretty as you?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” You laughed nervously.
Rafe placed a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him, “Why don’t you go get Barry a slice of that chocolate cake you made?”
Rafe assumed it would ease your nervousness if you could share what you made. “Okay, Daddy,” You smiled at both men, and both men watched you closely as you walked out of the room, “I’ll be right back.”
“Pretty and obedient,” Barry whistled, “I need to travel more.”
A/N: Thank you all so much for your support on the first two chapters BUT psa you will not be added to my taglist if you're not reblogging the fic and letting me know your thoughts! It is crazy to me that people will ask me to tag them in the next chapter when they have neither liked nor reblogged the fic. Constructive feedback is more encouraging than just commenting "PART 4" or "tag me in part 4" :)
PART 4
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The Love Lab presents:
Boyfriend is to Husband
pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!Reader
summary: How would Miguel react if you did the “calling my bf my husband” trend? 🤔
content warning: It gets a little suggestive, but other than that, it’s fluff fluff fluff. There are short mentions of food, but nothing too crazy. The Miguel in here is also not Spiderman. Just a little guy.
credit for art and dividers: Me! and @kimjiho1 (plus another person for the gif divider, if this is yours, lmk!)
a/n: This will be apart of a series called The Trendy Couple! This is the first installment ☝🏾😌. I’m not sure how long the series will be, but right now it’s just based off of cute couple's trends. My fyp has suffered trying to do research for this…
word count: 2.2k
I use the word "buggy" in here. Buggy = shopping cart or trolley. I'm southern so buggy just rolls off the tongue. ❤︎ Plus, it sounds cute!
You and Miguel have been out since 8 am running errands and grabbing supplies to fill up the new apartment.
After a year of your dresser being full of his sweatpants and hoodies and his furniture hosting several of your blankets, his fridge being stocked of your favorite fruits and your shower caddy holding his body care, you both decided it was best to live together.
Towel sets, bed sheets, comforters, silverware, curtains. This was only the tip of what you and Miguel had managed to stuff inside the car.
After hitting five shops just that morning, you opted to stay in the car while Miguel went and handled a pickup order from the hardware store. It was getting closer to lunchtime and you didn’t want to become irritable because of the long lines.
To pass the time, you decided to scroll on TikTok, watching video after video, reacting to each accordingly.
First, it was chatty kitties begging for food. Then, it was edits of hot wrestlers. Next, it was ramen recipes to cook at 2am. There were even a couple of NPC lives even though the trend was nearly dying at this point.
Finally, you scrolled to a video hosting a girl and her boyfriend huddled together in a car over the console.
She’s leaned up against him, her smile beaming, “Today I’m going to be guessing my husband’s favorite things!”
“I’m not your husband,” are the words that shoot from her boyfriend’s mouth, fast as lightning. Cold. Unkind. Callous.
You watch as the girl’s smile drops and the video cuts, her laughing out of shock beforehand, evidence of her trying to stamp out her embarrassment.
You watch more as his grin widens and she gives him this awkward glance.
“Not yet,” he adds, seeing how quiet she was.
The video ends with her jumping at him playfully, trying to play the situation of.
“Jesus,” you sigh, mouth turned sideways as you pause the video and open up the comments. Thousands of people were telling her to dump him, others questioning why he would say what he said in the way that he did.
Your heart went out to the girl who clearly wanted to do a harmless joke that completely backfired.
You liked a comment about this being a possible red flag. Although he could have responded that way because he wasn’t ready for marriage, his response was so quick and distant that it was like he was disgusted at the possibility of being with her that long.
After working yourself up by scrolling through the comments, you decide to go even further by pressing the “calling my boyfriend ‘husband’” search at the top.
There were so many stitches to the original video with people giving their own thoughts about the situation. Some people were proclaimed dating coaches, others psychologists, and a few influencers.
You even see a follow up video from the original couple with the guy giving a shitty excuse as to why he was so quick in his response.
“Yeah right,” you mumble, watching the girl snicker at her boyfriend’s pouts. You agree with the comments that his response makes the original video even worse.
Still scrolling down, you find another video featuring a new couple.
They’re at a table eating donut holes out of a hat, and when the girl calls her boyfriend “husband”, the guy’s entire body lights up. He’s grinning, cheeks rosy, and can’t stop staring back at his girlfriend.
From there, you were able to see countless other couples with cute videos, all of the guys radiating at the word “husband.”
Biting your lip, you wondered how Miguel would react if you called him your husband.
You loved him with all of your heart and you were sure that he loved you. You guys are literally moving into an apartment together. But the thought of him being unsettled by you calling him your husband weighed on you.
Just as you were deep in your thoughts, you heard a knock near the trunk of the car startling you. Looking up in the rearview mirror, you see Miguel standing with a few bags and wood planks in his hands. You reach over and press a button to pop open the trunk.
“Got everything?” you ask, turning to watch as he drops items in the back.
“Yeah, I think so. Although there was almost a brawl over some potted plants,” he said. “Some older lady just came up to this guy and snatched his monsteras.”
“What?” you respond, watching as he closed the trunk and walked around to the driver's seat. “Out of his hands or the buggy?”
Miguel laughed, both recalling the scene and finding your terms adorable. “She just came up and snatched it out of the cart while he was waiting at the end of the line. She swore that she saw it first.”
You listened to him retell the story, hand under your chin as you leaned closer. He was cute, lilt in his voice to make an impression of the plant thief. Thinking to yourself that you liked this little moment of playfulness, you take your phone out to record.
Placing your phone in a case attached to the dashboard, you smile at the camera while Miguel’s still going.
“‘You youngins think the world owes you everything, and that’s just not the case!’ And the poor guy is standing there going ‘ma’am, I just want my plant back.’ He looked so distressed.”
“I would be too! A random lady just shopped from my buggy. It’s like, why are you this close to me to see what I’m trying to buy?”
Miguel turns the car on and buckles up. “It started to escalate when the lady’s friend came over. Then there were two shrill voices fussing at this guy.”
He started to back the car out of the parking spot, hand behind your seat and head turned towards the back window.
You slowly glanced at his arm, eyes tracing a vein up his shirt.
Too bad you were in a car right now or else you’d let his arm wrap around you elsewhere.
You tune back into his words, silently scolding yourself for letting something so simple get you to fold.
“Luckily, I was able to calm them both down. All it took was me showing them some dasheen leaves,” he said, driving the car closer to the exit of the parking lot.
You came to a conclusion. There was no better time than the present.
“Aw, look at my husband. Saving the day with his genius,” you say, hand reaching out to pat his chest.
Then you feel your body jerk to the right. The seat belt tightens as the car jerkingly swerves in between two parking spaces.
You stare in a panic at Miguel who puts the car in park and turns his entire body towards you.
“What did you just call me?” he asks, eyes searching yours, a little startled but mostly hopeful.
You decide to keep the charades going, “I was just praising my husband for stopping the creation of another Karen video. Why did you turn the car like that?” You’re still looking at him as if he has two heads.
“You just-!” Miguel takes your hands into his and places his forehead on his fists. “Baby, you know what you just said.”
You laugh, a little giddy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Miguel leans back against his seat and closes his eyes, reaching down to take his seatbelt off. His eyebrows scrunch up as he brings your hand to his chest, “Feel my heartbeat.”
Your mouth drops as you feel his heart rattling against his chest. He really wasn’t being dramatic.
“Baby look at me,” you grab his hands and hold them tight. “You did a good job today.”
His breath stopped, as he looked at you. His face was tinted from the whole fiasco.
“Husband.”
Miguel’s entire body slumped as he grinned wide. He nearly jumped over the console to sag his body onto yours.
His shoulders were shaking and you heard his laugh muffled by your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him and make a face at the camera.
“What’s up, Mig?” you say, trying to get him to talk.
He mumbled into your clothes, shoulders still shaking.
“I can’t hear you, you gotta sit up.”
He sits up and sniffles, turning his head toward the backseat.
Looking at his profile you can see a few streaks down his face.
“Are you crying?” you ask, turning his face towards yours.
Miguel swipes his wrist across his cheeks, “Stop, this is extremely embarrassing.”
“No, it’s not! I promise it’s not,” you say, rubbing your thumb across his ear. “Talk to me.”
He chuckled, eyes looking down, “It just feels really good to know that you think of me that way. We don’t have to ever cross that line, but one day, if you would like, we can make that title true.”
“Is this a pre-proposal?” you ask, heartbeat in your ears. You went out on a limb to follow a trend, not knowing how it would end. Now you’re staring at Miguel’s flushed face with his heart pouring out into your lap.
“Maybe,” he whispered, grabbing your hands. “Possibly a promise for what could be.”
You bite your lip to hold back a grin, “Can I know what could be right now?”
“And expose my plans? Not a chance,” Miguel smirked. “Besides, a husband knows what’s best for his partner, right?”
“He does,” you quip, rubbing your hand in a circle on his chest. “He also apparently forgets that SUVs can flip very easily.”
“Lo siento, mi amor,” he says, looking sheepishly at the placement of the car. “Did I startle you?”
You just giggle at his concern and give him a quick peck on the mouth. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that big of a reaction.”
“How would you react if I casually called you forever mine? While driving!”
“Go 90 in a 70,” you joke. “Maybe pull over and do a little more than make out.” You rub your hand down his chest, and squeeze playfully at his pec.
Miguel stared back at you, body instantly reacting to the shift in conversation. “We can actually do that right now.”
He leaned forward and brought your lips to his. You could taste the mint from the gum he had earlier, humming when he pushed further into your mouth.
He started to reach for your hips, ready to pull you over onto his lap.
Your stomach let out a loud grumble, making you jump.
“Ok, let’s try this again after we get you some food,” Miguel says, plastering kisses on your face.
The day moves on smoothly with Miguel not letting you out of his sight, hands itching to hold you in some way.
He also never lets the husband thing go.
As you’re ordering lunch, “One lemonade for my baby. And a water with lemon for me, the husband.”
As you stop in a clothing store at the mall for a small break, “These say boyfriend jeans. Do they have any husband jeans?”
As you’re trying to reach the top shelf to grab the last of your favorite detergent, “No, cariño. Let your husband get it for you.”
As you’re looking for throw pillows and towel sets for the apartment, “You think they have a couple’s set? I want something that says ‘Mr.’ on it.”
As you stop at a gift store, looking for something extra to give to the movers, “Look, this shirt says it’s made of ‘hubby material.’ Should I get it?”
This feeling is only amplified when you post his initial reaction online. The comments were full of people yearning to be in your predicament.
“If my boyfriend doesn’t crash the car when I call him husband, THROW HIM AWAY. 😒”
“Does he have a brother….asking for a friend”
“I needed this after the “I’m not your husband” he in LOVE”
“If your bf doesn’t cry at the thought of you, what are you doing”
“He was blushing HARRRRD 😭😭😭”
“So when’s the wedding? 🤨”
“He was literally cheesing and crying omg”
“Get you a man that stops the car to declare his love”
“What if I did a five mile marathon on i-55”
“He’s so in love with you that it’s palpable”
“He was ready do a lot more than make out 😭”
Miguel saw most things, a little embarrassed but mostly happy that so many people found him to be genuine.
You laid on his shoulder as he checked the comments, liking the funny ones as they passed by.
“Do you want to make a response video?” you say, liking a comment going ‘he’s a good man, Savannah.’
“No, I think this is enough,” he replies, handing the phone back to you. “Let me keep a little mystery. At least until I actually propose, of course.”
You looked at him with stars in your eyes.
“A mysterious husband. I kind of like the sound of that,” you say, wrapping your body around his side. “Maybe I can be nosy, find out his secrets.”
“I bet you would, cariño,” he voiced, nuzzling his chin on top of your head. “After, everything is planned and done.”
You laughed and snuggled closer, happy to be with him.
Once again, I hope you enjoyed reading! ❣️
Any likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated and welcomed.
I'm excited for the future of this series and I hope you guys are too. When I finish the series masterlist, I'll link it here. If you guys have any trends that you want me to include, then just let me know and I'll see what I can do!
- Lauro ♡
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