Prompt || Steven Spilled Some Aphrodisiac Into Y/N’s Drink. It's Up To Steven To Deal With Horny Y/N

Hero and Leander (M)

Pairing; Alex Law, (fem) Reader Warnings; SMUT, unprotected PiV (wrap it freaks), AFAB reader, subby alex law is best alex law, kisses, cursing, just- Friends to Lovers. Alex is down-fucking-bad Word count; 3.4k

Summary; After inviting you over to work on homework together, Alex begins to understand Juliet when he compared his love for you to Hero and Leander. 

THIS IS NOT EDITED

Alex was never good at his studies, he could never fully understand what his professors wanted him to if it was anything other than journalism. 

You’ve known Alex since your sophomore year of college. And now, being a senior, you still weren’t used to his bold flirting or the fact you still find random pieces of women’s clothing on the floor when you visit. 

Graduation was just around the corner, the professors ramping up on homework and projects, swamping you in essay after essay about pointless things you were never going to use after you left the classroom. 

Alex had invited you over when you talked on the phone that morning, saying you both could help each other while Juliet and David were both out at work. To him, it was the perfect excuse to have all of your undivided attention for himself. For you, it was the perfect plan to get done with your hardest essay to date. 

Laying on his bed, your legs crossed under you as your eyes narrowed at the lined page in front of you, Alex knew his determination to get any of his homework done was off of the table. Especially after moaning something about your professor and how it was making you rethink your decision on going to college.

You had on his favorite sweat pants of yours, a baggy old T-shirt, and no makeup on. With your class textbook splayed out next to your open notebook, Alex couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Alex couldn’t keep his legs still, his foot fidgeting, licking and biting at his lips, picking at the edges of his nails. He was nervous that you would notice, and you would do your normal thing of grabbing his hands and asking him what was wrong. 

How could he explain to you that he was so head over heels for you, that Juliet compared his infatuation with you to Hero and Leander. 

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Dream Boy (2/?)

Steven Grant x F!Reader, Marc Spector x F!Reader

↪ Warnings: Fluff, Tiny Angst, Not the best of Writing

↪ Summary: Your coworker seems to be a weirdo. but not a bad weird. Maybe, a cute- a cute weirdo?

A/N : Mostly just a sub in story. This is from my Wattpad

Tags : @later-gators12

Words: 1k

The sun hit your closed eyelids.

You grunted as the light continued to irritate your eyes. Your hand came up to your forehead to rub it. Trying to soothe the pain.

You had another day of work to get to. Luckily, waking up wasn't too bad. Once you remembered what you had to do today it made a smile creep on your face.

Not necessarily what, but more like who.

A loving sigh escaped your lips as you rose from your mattress.

"Steven.."

You smiled as your eyelids lifted. You saw the sun, once again, making sun rays through your window.

It was a wonderful sight as you read your alarm.

6:00...

"Much better.."

You mumbled as you reached for your phone. You checked one of your list apps to see what you had planned for today. You wrote down what you needed to bring, some goals, and some exciting books to get to.

Especially your Egyptian books. Those are what interested you most.

Steven had appeared back into your mind. You tried to shake the thoughts away but somehow they didn't.

Then a look of shock came from your face.

'He doesn't even know my name'

Your hand softly touched your lips as you thought about this. You sighed, your heart felt broken but you knew it wasn't. What was happening to you?

This feeling. You didn't understand it.

You pushed yourself off your bed and made a plan. 'Don't get attached'

You gathered all your essentials and made it out the door with some time to waste. You thought it would be best to grab a coffee. You greeted your neighbors as you walked down your street. It was a calm morning with birds chirping, and the sun shining onto your soft skin.

You felt cool. It wasn't too hot nor too cold. Just cool.

A calm smile was set on your face. You rested at your bus stop sipping your coffee, excited to see a familiar face at the museum.

. . . . . . . . 𓆩❤︎𓆪 . . . . . . . .

Finally, the bus had made it to your stop. You had finished your warm beverage and threw it out. As you got on, you noticed how packed it was.

'This isn't going to be a fun ride, is it?'

An unamused sigh exited your lips as you squeezed past people to make it to the back of the bus.

You were suddenly pressed up against another man. Your hands couldn't be placed on your sides so you were forced to rest your hands on the poor man's chest.

You were too embarrassed to look up to the victim who was now in your grasp.

"I-I know you"

The man huffed. You darted towards the voice to see someone familiar.

Steven.

The bus suddenly swerved to the left, causing Steven to push you up against the wall of the bus. Your body tensed up as you tried to keep balance.

Steven's arm was right above your shoulder. Hopefully, this didn't spiral into a mess.

The curly-haired boy looked down at you and looked incredibly embarrassed. He tried to move his arm away, but the bus was moving in a way that if he did remove it, he would smother you with his chest.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry about this uh"

He seemed to try and call you something. Your brain remembered the fact he never got your name.

"Y/n"

You huffed out trying to find somewhere else to look besides his beautiful hazel eyes.

"Y-yes, Y/n, I'm terribly sorry"

You instantly reassured him. He accepted the reassurance but you could tell that he somehow didn't fully attain it.

His eyes seemed to be glued to you. When you noticed his glare he would turn towards the window. Then after a couple of seconds, he would turn right back to you.

You chose to accept this game that he didn't know he was playing. You scanned Steven's face and noticed that his eyes had dark circles under them.

You stared harder to make sure they weren't bruises. 'Has he not been sleeping?'

This situation with you being trapped by Steven made an electrifying feeling occur below your lower abdomen. This was definitely gonna be an interesting bus ride.

. . . . . . . . 𓆩❤︎𓆪 . . . . . . . .

You stumbled out of the bus. Steven jolted towards you trying to catch you. He seemed to be ready for your fall but you caught yourself just in time.

Steven still went to grab your arm, since he didn't notice you caught yourself.

Your face flushed from seeing how much he cared about your well-being. Sure, the bus ride was a tease, but this was something else.

'Why are you doing this to me universe'

You and Steven were right outside the Museum. Yet, you both were stuck. Stuck on the fact Steven hadn't let go of your arm.

If you asked him to let go, you would miss the warmth. If you didn't, then Donna would eventually find you two. Her most unloyal employees.

"Ste-"

"Yeah, sorry"

Steven let go and stormed into the Museum. 'That...was....interesting'

You followed after him. Once you entered, you saw that Steven was already by the counter. This was unusual behavior coming from him.

You felt like you knew that he would apologize sincerely and make you feel like he did an act of crime. But this, this was not normal.

Sure, you've only met him for a day, but it seemed like you knew him for years. His hair was swept back from his forehead, and you noticed that his accent had disappeared.

He sounded like a proud American. 'Weird'

You shook it off, you didn't wanna make a scene and ask all these weird questions towards a man that you just met.

You walked into the Gift Shop. You saw that there were only a couple of customers inside. You set your stuff down and took a deep breath in.

'Let's get this over with'

You turned towards the cash register. Your eyes instantly fell onto Steven, who was reorganizing some stuff on the shelves.

His posture seemed different. It was almost like he was more formal and not so flimsy. Your eyes were so fixated on the young man that you didn't notice a customer come up to you.

"Excuse me? Helloooo?"

You heard the man but you didn't turn your attention towards him. You were just too focused on Steven.

"Hey!"

The man then slammed his hand on the counter. You shook and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Deepest apologies sir"

"Yeah yeah whatever, scan this"

The man shoved something into your hand. You didn't care to know so you just scanned and rang him up.

"$5.00 please"

You heard a scoff as he handed you the money. You bit your lip in anger as you gave him his change and receipt.

"Have a nice day!"

You said sarcastically. The man rolled his eyes and exited the facility which left you to admire someone.

But, when you looked back, Steven was nowhere to be seen. You looked down at your hands disappointed. Your arms rested on the cold countertop.

'This job just doesn't get any easier'

You started to lean forward on the counter and began to lay on your hand, which was holding up your head. You swayed your rear end side to side as you stood there with nothing to do. No sight of Steven and absolutely no customers.

You sighed as your eyelids began to fall. You weren't tired but the feeling of boredom made you, well, bored.

Your waist stuck out more as you finally lay your head on the counter. This wasn't comfortable at all.

You thought about sleeping on the floor, which made you laugh a bit.

"O-oh Y/n?"

You rose from your position and turned around to find Steven right behind you.

Your heart began to beat out of your chest. You started to get sweaty and you felt like you were having a panic attack.

"How long were you there for?!"

You pushed out. You noticed that Steven's eyes were fixated on your figure. It made you feel nervous and yet it also made that stimulating feeling come back.

"A couple of minutes I would say"

Your eyes widened and you gulped intensely at the fact that you remembered swaying your behind not too long ago.

You noticed that Steven was slowly growing a smirk on his face.

'This isn't how Steven would act at all!'

You tried to smile but you thought about how Steven's personality changed.

Steven's legs began to shuffle towards you. Almost hesitantly. You turned your head towards the shop to see if anyone was there to interrupt whatever this was.

No one, absolutely no one was in sight. You darted your eyes towards The curly-haired boy. He had his eyes set on your frame.

Steven had stopped right in front of you. You began to slow down your breathing.

The male then reached for something in his pocket. Your breath hitched, 'What was he grabbing?! Is this where I die!?'

Your eyes shut, waiting for the worst.

"Here"

Steven spoke softly. You reluctantly opened your eyes to find a name tag in the boy's hands.

"You alright?"

He said with a scoff. You smiled sheepishly as you swept the tag away from him.

"Quite amazing actually"

You gave him a thumbs up with one of your hands as you clipped the label onto your shirt with the other.

He rolled his eyes playfully and chuckled as he began to walk back to one of the shelves.

"Jesus.."

You huffed out trying to catch your breath.

Once you finally settled. A customer rang up. You put on a smile and got back to work.

'What a turn of events'

ok but imagine sucking or nibbling on Steven's boobs 👀 I bet he'd be a blushin mess and be a little shocked at this unusual action ...but I think underneath he would like it and beg for more 👉👈

— 🐸

not me hoping someone would talk more about his tiddies lmaoao

OMGGDSDFHKSK I FIND THAT HOT TBH. like imagine a heavy make-out sesh with steven. you're straddling on top of him, kissing a fiery trail down the column of his neck as your fingers quickly undo the buttons of his printed shirt. slowly, your mouth moves lower, nipping at his sharp collarbones and ghosting a hot breath over the mounds of his chest. with a soft whine, his muscles tense underneath you, and you decide to test out something new.

steven nearly combusts when your teeth barely graze his nipple before lightly flicking it with the tip of your tongue. oh, this has his body quivering under you, and he throws his head back, eyes squeezing shut as a stuttering whimper escapes from him. he's not used to the sensation at first, but god, he now finds himself enjoying it waaay too much.

meanwhile, you're absolutely delighted about how sensitive his nipples are. spurred by the pretty noises steven makes, you begin sucking on one pec with a hand massaging the other, rolling the dark, taut nipple between your thumb and forefinger. he's an incoherent mess at this point, crying out your name as he begs and pleads for more.

you can feel how stiff steven is against your stomach. honestly, you're confident you can make him cum like this— just by pulling, pinching, squeezing, and nibbling all over his broad chest as he ruts his hips into you. you're proven correct when moments later, an all-too-familiar warmth and stickiness is seeping through his pants, a look of bliss settling on his face.

yup, you're definitely doing this again next time.

and by next time, you mean as soon as steven's ready for another round.

;)

🪐  the lonely planet 

Gif Source

Pairings:  Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader

Warnings:  SPOILERS for Kenobi Ep#1&2; NSFW (unprotected) smut; angst; yearning; guilt, pre-mature mourning; Obi-Wan being a complete mess over you; we don’t proofread we die like men

Word Count:  5,008 words

Reader Gender:  Female

Author:  Meg

Summary:  It’s been ten years since Obi-Wan was left on his own with only his guilt and sense of duty to keep him company. The very same duty that threatens to tear him apart brings him to a bittersweet reunion with someone he thought he’d lost long ago. It still doesn’t make what he has to do any easier, though.

A/N:  AHEM let me just come right out and say, this one made me tear up a bit writing it. Take that as you will. Good day, I’m an emotional train wreck.

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THE QUARRY (2022)

Fashion Choices

Pairing: Steven Grant x f!Reader, Marc Spector x f!Reader

Summary: You’ve been giving Steven a hard time about his wardrobe lately. It’s not that you don’t like when he wears a collared shirt on top of another collared shirt, you just want him to try new things. Then him and Marc decide to tease you about it. Big mistake. Huge. // Chapter 1 is only with Steven. Chapter 2 will be for Marcy-Marc

Tags: Sharing Clothes × Lingerie × Teasing × Established Relationship × Pure Smut × Sub Steven Grant (Marvel) × If You Squint × Dom/sub Undertones × Masturbation × p in v × Enthusiastic Consent × Breeding Kink × No use of y/n × Woman on Top × for the majority of it lol × Multiple Orgasms × Unprotected Sex × Rough Sex

Words: 2.8k

Ao3 link

Steven has a lot of collared shirts. Like, a lot of them.

“You dress like a lesbian,” you tell him one day, laughing when you see that he’s layered one of his button ups on top of another collared shirt.

He scoffs. “I can’t believe you just said that to me during Pride month.”

He manages to dodge the book thrown at his head, but he isn’t able to dodge your questions after that.

“Why did I find another collared shirt in your bag?” you ask, showing him the reusable bag he’d brought to the shop earlier that day.

He pouts. “That’s for Marc.”

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The kids buy a van, unmask the evil head of Hawkins lab and adopt a dog. It is then revealed that Stranger Things is simply a Scooby Doo prequel series!

This is absolutely beautiful omg. I had a rollercoaster of emotions 😭💞🥰

Dove

Part 2 of 2 of The Locked Door Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.7K i apologize for NOTHING

Warnings: DUBCON ELEMENTS, SMUUUUUUT, religion kink, virgin kink, authority kink, degradation kink, praise kink, age gap, ohhhhh the list goes on y’all been here long enough

A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time im sorry

***

Obi-Wan feels like he’s going to be sick.

Dinner in the grand hall was difficult enough, forking down mouthfuls of expensive food he’s sure was absolutely marvelous, if he could’ve tasted it.  The s’Ziscari clearly splurged on the celebrations—expensive food, expensive decor, expensive everything, down to the silk napkin he studied and fiddled with under the table as he awkwardly waited for you to finish your plate.

He felt uncomfortable, absolutely.  He’s felt uncomfortable ever since he shuffled into this blasted, Maker forsaken robe not long after he left your quarters earlier.

Not black, no.  Not like yours.  Not like what appears to be an overwhelmingly vast majority of the people he’s encountered so far this dreadful evening.

No, his robes are blue.

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hear me out..what abt u and miguel in a hotub trying to hide that fact that you guys are literally screwing eachother in front of the others🤭🤭and he’s talking u through it..whispering in ur ear..telling u to be quiet while he’s literally roaming his hands all over u! 😋😋

this is a leeetle bit funny to me bc in real life, sex is the last thing i'd wanna do in a hot tub. But for Miguel..... 😍😍

Wandering Hands

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: Husband!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: You're on a trip away with your husband, Miguel. He gets handsy. (Hot tub sex + Husband!Miguel)

warnings: 18+ , fingering, p in v, instructional, Miguel talks you through it, teeny tiny bit of f!dom, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, very very sappy. Minors DNI

a/n: this is disgustingly sappy and cheesy at some points - I kinda have to apologise in advance. I've had a rough week lmao

very big thank you to my beta reader @tianyhi <33

wc: 2.7k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wandering hands: Miguel has wandering hands. 

It's your anniversary, and that's the thought you're left with as he kneads your thigh, eyes low at a fancy resort. A resort you practically dragged him to, mind you.  He's a workhorse; absorbed in his job and everything that comes with it. Your husband; diligent and devoted, as always; he needed a break. Somewhere hot, somewhere expensive. It’s what he deserved. And whilst he would never take the initiative to book one for himself, isn't that what a wonderful SO was there for?

To his credit, he's been 'unplugged' since the moment you got here - putting away his work laptop and ignoring all the calls he'd get from overbearing clients. His sole focus for this whole week is you; and he's made that abundantly clear. The lingering looks, gentle touches: everything about him screams love and warmth. And he's all yours - a fact that still sends you spiralling, every now and then. All yours. 

"You're not paying attention, cariño." He says under his breath, swirling the wine under his nose like the man in front of him. 

You're both at a wine tasting, like sophisticated adults (...who had made fun of the idea on the way over). Miguel's wearing pressed trousers that hang on his frame just right, and a tank top underneath an open button-up. The peek of flesh makes you hot under the collar like a Victorian housewife, and you flush when you realise you're staring. Miguel pinches your cheek with a laugh, soothing it with a simple kiss. 

Huffing, you take a sip of the expensive wine without thinking. There’s a gasp from the sommelier, and the small group turns to look at you. Your face heats up when you realise what you’ve done - shirking from the pack of eyes silent with sharp critique. A man beside you taps your shoulder with a slimy smile. 

“Miss, that’s a 1978 Monfortino. It probably costs more than your rent.” 

“...I thought this was a wine tasting. So eventually, we have to… taste. The wine.” Miguel chuckles into his drink, squeezing at your waist. You make a fair point.

The man laughs, smug. “With all due respect, it’s an experience of the senses… maybe this is your first time somewhere with this kind of price tag, but it’s quite rude to-”

Miguel clears his throat, flashing a disarming smile at the man to your side. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, with a dangerous veneer you’ve seen before. The smile he gives before closing a big deal at work, calculated and shiny – when he smells blood in the water. 

“With all due respect, watch your fucking tone.” 

His face drops just as quickly, and he downs the rest of his wine, standing up - hand outstretched to take you with him. Gladly, you follow, click-clacking in your heels and little dress; hand tight around his.

“...Pinche idiota…vete a la verga…smug little-” It’s under his breath, but his intensity makes you giggle. 

In the elevator up to your room, he stews, brow creased in little furrows. A force of habit, he pulls you closer, tucking away a stray strand of hair. With a smile, you knead his temples, smoothing the creases. He visibly softens and leans into your touch.

“You’re on vacation, Miguel. Relax, baby.” 

“S’not that simple.” He grumbles, but chases your lips with his own, regardless.

Defiant, you move at the last moment, chin up in the air.

“No, I’m being serious.” He snakes a hand to your ass, dancing over the hem of your dress. 

"I could think of a few ways to decompress, if you're up for it…" Voice low and silky, want pools at the base of your stomach. 

"Miguelito, the bedroom voice doesn't work on me, anymore." You slather on the charm, batting your eyelashes in a way that makes him laugh. He rolls his eyes. 

"Let's do something. I think…I think the spa's still open? We could get a massage-" 

"I don't want a massage unless it's you, baby."

"...or go to the sauna-"

"Didn't pack the right clothes, m'afraid."

"God, don't be mean." It's your turn to roll your eyes. And you whack at his chest, admonishing him gently. "What about the hot tubs?"

He turns his head to the side as if he's deep in thought. Pondering, weighing up the options; when really, the only thought in his head was you in a tiny bikini. 

"If you insist, cariño." 

~~~

The spa isn't too far from your hotel, a stone's throw from the beach. You walk with Miguel in the pleasant evening heat, flip-flops and cover ups light on your back. 

There at the back, open air, behind rows of beach houses and overlooking the sea. You settle into the tubs, each one sectioned by wooden slats and climbing plants - not visible from the main spa, but not completely closed off, either. You can still hear the quiet buzz of other people, although it's not too full this late in the day. 

You slip the light fabric onto the floor, and step out of the cover-up. Miguel, already in the water, watches the light ripple off of your skin. You don't catch him staring, but you feel it. His gaze is heavy as he drinks it in; you are dappled and gorgeous, and his heart is full. You slip in, shuffling up close to him in the dull thrum of the water jets. 

Eyes closed, you rest your head on his shoulder. "You're staring." 

"Yeah." It's so soft, said in the press of warm bodies, that you almost don't hear it. Playfully, he flicks your forehead - in that little triangle between your eyebrows that appears when you're resting. It's cute, he thinks. "...you got a problem with that?"

Laughing, you shake your head. "It's not too much?" 

He moves closer to you, hands on your hips and mouth pressing soft kisses into your neck. 

"The trip, I mean. It was a little last minute, and there was that thing with our passports…" You sigh, turning towards him, hand on his chest to stop him. "I just thought you needed a break. And I know this isn't usually your thing, but I want you to enjoy yourself. If you're not, let me know, and I'll book the first plane out of here, I promise." 

You're looking up at him, clearly worried, and his heart breaks. It's almost as if you've forgotten that an anniversary entails both people, together as one. The truth is, as long as he's with you, and you're having a good time… 

"Doesn't matter where we go, cariño. I'm right where I need to be if I'm with you." He says it like a statement - so matter-of-factly it makes your head spin. Because, you suppose, to him it was a ubiquitous truth: that in every universe, every iteration, the both of you belonged together. What would sound over the top or cheesy coming from someone else, is made so simple by Miguel. A fundamental truth: his home, his happiness, his heartaches and highest highs, were with you, and you alone. 

"Promise me."

"Hand on my heart, baby." He places a palm that spans the crest of his ribcage. "...I promise."

He guides you onto his lap, so your back presses to his. His kisses are so light and airy, you don't notice how his hand creeps towards your thigh and the gentle movement of his hips under yours. 

"You always take care of me," His hand snaps the band of your bikini bottoms, making you writhe on his lap. "Let me return the favour. Relax, cariño."

You nod, gently, eyes blown when you realise what exactly that means. Miguel's large palms dance over your tummy, pinching at the flesh to make you laugh; and then down to your thighs, to paw at them. He shifts, directing you over the jet by the base of the seat, and there is delicious pressure at your clit. 

He cups your pussy under the foam of the water, ripping a heady moan of which you try to subdue. You lean into it: the hand that's now migrated into your bikini, the rock of his hips, and the hickeys he sucks into skin. Coupled with the fact you were in public, he brings you to climax quicker than even he expected. You were so needy, everything about your body telling him you wanted more - needed more. He presses the pad of his finger over your clit, barely there, and you claw at his arms under the water. 

"More?" He coos, dulcet tones brushing the shell of your ear. "Pórtate bien,  okay?" 

So lost in your haze, you don't register the steady padding of a pair of people coming towards you, behind the wooden divider. A head pops over, and you still his wandering hands. 

"Oh, there y'all are!" You see the bronzed face of Jess and her husband, a couple you had met during the trip. She bounces towards you both with dizzying accuracy, donned in a bright swimsuit and sheer cover up around her waist. Her husband is quieter, opting for a nod to Miguel, behind you. 

"Can we join you? Hope we aren't interrupting anything."

Miguel meets your eyes. 

"Is it okay?" He says, a thousand words said in your exchange. We don't have to do anything, it's up to you.

"It's fine," You breathe and then louder, to Jess. "It's fine."

He kisses your forehead and squeezes you closer, shifting so you feel his growing length under his shorts. An action that would seem innocent to a passer-by but below the surface… 

He starts off slow, imperceptible movements as he strokes your clit. It makes you impatient, irritated that he had the audacity to start something he couldn't finish. Or, wouldn't, rather. You make lazy conversation with Jess and her husband; innocuous little things that barely take your mind off of Miguel behind you. 

Some time goes by, and he's somewhat conservative – hand pressed against your pussy like his fingers were made for you. You get used to the pressure, as Jess talks about her day.

"...they're having a sale, as well! We're gonna go back there tomorrow, because, God, there were these earrings that I couldn't take my eyes off of, real gold, and only-" 

"Fuck!" He slips two fingers in, without warning, sinking to the knuckle as your little hole adjusts. Jess pauses, a little confused. 

"I was just…" He scissors them ever so slightly, enjoying watching you squirm. "...t-thinking about how great that deal was. Like… fuck! Real gold!" 

Internally, you wince, hoping she buys it. Jess isn't stupid, but you don't think she knows you well enough to notice your husband fingering you in a hot tub. You hope. 

"Right." She gives you the benefit of the doubt. "Not gold-plated, real gold."

You nod, hoping the foam from the jets is hiding the way you rock into Miguels' fingers. They feel good, curling up into you at that spongy spot he knows too well. 

"There's a good food spot, by the boardwalk. I think they do…" She turns to her husband, who has an arm draped around her. 

"Pasta, baby."

"Pasta! Yes, of course. We had a gorgeous meal and they served mussels, with the dish you were on about, before."

A beat. And then another. There’s a pregnant pause, before Miguel nudges you gently. "Yeah, sorry. It was the… garlick-y… one that had, um…"

You can't concentrate, against his wide torso, his hands between your legs: your brain goes fuzzy. You catch a smile tugging at his lips; and you almost scream. It's cruel, and all he can do is laugh. 

"Miguel's more interested in that stuff, m'afraid." You give her a weak smile, and Miguel rewards you with a thumb to your clit. 

It takes you everything not to jump at the pleasure that rocks your core; and you clamp a hand to his thigh. You make eye contact and he smiles; the smug fuck; gently chattering on with Jess about your trip to a local market, the other day. He's as casual as can be, and seemingly unaffected. 

You try your hardest to nod and smile where necessary; giving simple answers that wouldn't require much thought. In the cool night air, the conversation is pleasant enough, but your husband insists on stretching out your orgasm – watching for the tell-tale signs and pulling away. It's a game of cat and mouse; and whilst you just want to get off, Miguel takes pleasure in the chase. 

"We should be heading off, I think." Jess says after a while. "Just wanted to catch up with you two."

Miguel smiles, dizzying and innocuous. "We're happy to, Jess."

They slip out with a splash, and she nods towards you. "You ok, sweetheart? You just seem a bit out of it, today."

Perhaps too hastily, you nod. "I think…I t-think it was something I ate."

"Oh." She looks a little worried, and it makes you feel guilty. "You get better then. I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jess." And with that, they make their way out. 

Once out of sight, Miguel speeds up, his other hand on your thigh to wrench your legs open. The speed makes you dizzy, melting with your head back on his shoulder and desperately humping his hand for some relief. The rock and slosh of water over tiles barely registers in your fog. 

As you moan and writhe, he whispers filth into your ear. 

"Quieter, cariño. What if someone hears?" You whine and all he does is chuckle, lowly. "What if they find you, spread on my lap, fucking yourself on my fingers?" 

"You're being mean."

"Eso no es justo, amor." He titters, shaking his head. "You told me to relax, no? This is how I want to relax." 

Tears prick at your eyes, as he uses his other hand to rub circles into your clit, the warm froth washes over you both, but all you can feel is him. 

"¿Dime que quieres, hermosa?" What do you want?

"M'close, Miguel." You bite down another moan. “I’m ready.”

"Want to feel it, baby. Cum for me."

You tilt your head to the side, and he captures your lips with his own – in awe as you clamp around his fingers. Grinding down on his crotch, you ride out your orgasm. The way he makes you feel is hot, and wet and filthy. 

When your shaking legs still, you turn around to face him. He's hard, and too much of a gentleman to take his own pleasure. You slip a hand into his shorts, hand hot against his cock. It's his turn to lean into the bliss: head back and lips slightly parted with pleasure. 

You've always liked his lips, plump and kissable, a pretty pink that just fits against yours. 

"You're teasing." He hisses softly. 

You scrape your nails along his chest, and he keens, clutching your hand close to his heart. 

"...and what exactly have you been doing all night?“ You make a tight ring with your fingers, squeezing his tip and his hips jump up. 

"Vale, vale, vaaale…." He paws at you waist, a little desperate. "Fuck- I get it."

You give him a kiss, wet and needy, before slipping the gusset of your bikini to the side and sinking down on his length. He cries out and you swallow it, pressing yourself even closer to him. With your tits against his chest like that, he can't think straight. You shift against his length, finding a steady rhythm but it's too slow – and Miguel grows impatient. With a growl, he places both hands on your hips, forcing you downwards as you writhe on his length. 

"Dámelo, dámelo…" He slams his cock into you - hard and fast and just the way you like it. "Just like that, baby, just like-" 

That growing coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you clamp around him. But he doesn't stop, just fucks you through it until he cums, hot and sticky fluids spilling into you. Panting, you capture him into a kiss. You separate, and he's got a dopey smile on his face. 

Content. Relaxed, even. 

~~~

Jess calls you the morning after, and you answer. 

"Hey, everything ok?" You yawn into the receiver, a little tired from last night's activities.

"I said I would call, didn't I?" 

You hum. "...suppose you did."

"You feeling better now Miguel's not playing with your pussy in a hot tub?" 

Shit. You almost drop the phone. "Jesus, we didn't-" 

"Save. It." She grumbles something you can't quite hear; something you suspect you're better off not hearing, anyways. 

"...Sorry. We weren't really thinking."

"Damn straight." She pauses. "I'm not mad, sweetheart. Can’t even judge you, to be honest. As I always say, it's not a real vacation until you fuck your husband somewhere you shouldn't-" 

"Gross, Jess."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did the woman who got fingered in a hot tub just say something??" 

You wince at the vulgarity of her words. 

"....Ouch." 

She laughs into the speakerphone, and you join her. Besides you, Miguel stirs, a little smile on his face. Half asleep, he thinks he’s heard an angel, voice light and airy in the space of your hotel room.

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