mggslover - Tumblr blog

mggslover · 3 days ago

Text

i am an advocate for old men’s sexual rights. we, as a fandom, need to support the elderly. yes, even the fictional ones need us. thank you so much alina for standing with me and writing this stunning piece of literature.

BEHAVED FOR SEVEN

pairing: david rossi x reader summary: you’ve got a tradition for every red light stop, but a few cocktails in, you’re thinking it might be due for an upgrade, based on this request. warnings: p in v car sex, age gap, several old man jokes, light praise kink, viagra mention, umm dats it me thinks? word count: 1.3k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Your heels clacked—dragged, really—against the scruffy pavement. The concrete had long given up on clean lines, curving beneath your steps like it was trying to guide you somewhere. Home, maybe. Or, for now, to your boyfriend’s car.

You hadn’t even noticed the sleek, overpriced thing at first, its tinted windows looking wildly out of place on the sticky street littered with drunken aftermath, until it flashed its headlights twice. You perked up like a cat, grinning as Rossi stepped out behind the wheel.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you teased, voice syrupy as your eyes shamelessly dragged over him, like you hadn’t been texting him your location the entire time.

“I see you indulged in the fruity cocktails?” he chuckled, his hand already finding your waist.

“You know me,” you hummed, curling into him a little more than strictly necessary. “I only had four… five? Who’s counting?”

“Clearly not you,” he muttered, more amused than disapproving. “Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

He guided you towards the vehicle, though you didn’t exactly make the short distance easy. Your hand kept trailing up and down his chest, while your body leaned in just close enough for your hardened nipples to brush against his side with every other step.

“You always this bossy, or is it just when I’m a little tipsy and wearing heels?” you asked sweetly as he opened the door.

“You’re impossible.”

“But charming,” you countered eagerly, brushing your fingers along the line of his collar. “And incredibly hot.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t bother arguing. “Get in the car, dolcezza mia.”

You slid in with a smile that promised trouble, letting your dress shift just enough to tease. He closed the door behind you with a heavy exhale and made his way around to the driver’s side, slipping in beside you.

You behaved for all of seven minutes, right until the car stopped at a red light.

You rested your hand on his thigh, turning slightly in your seat so the streetlight caught the shimmer of your dress, the one he had insisted on buying. “We’re at a red light,” you said softly, tapping a finger against your lips, lipstick smudged from your last drink. “Pay up, handsome.”

His eyes zoned in on your delicate mouth. “You never forget, do you?”

“Tradition is important. And so is kissing me.”

He didn’t need any more prompting.

Rossi leaned in, one hand still on the wheel, the other cradling your jaw. Usually, you’d work up to tongue, but not tonight. Tonight, you wanted him guessing exactly which cocktails had passed your lips.

So you darted your tongue in, sighing against him as he matched your efforts, deepening the kiss like it had been his idea in the first place. And your hands, so pretty and polished, found their lawful place at his belt, the embossed leather familiar under your fingertips, the buckle practically begging to be undone. Amongst other things.

“Pull the car over,” you murmured against his mouth.

You were met with a rocky “Seriously?”

“Deadly, baby,” you whispered, palming him through his chinos. “Unless you think it’s past your bedtime. Need to check your blood pressure first? Or should I grab the viagra from the glove box?”

“You’re such a brat, you know that?”

“Only because you let me be one. Now come on, are you gonna pull this thing over, or am I going to have to do this while you drive? Don’t think Hotch would be too thrilled getting a call this late to bail us out of jail.”

He cursed under his breath, something in Italian you were far too preoccupied to translate. The second the light turned green, he took a sharp left, pulling into a side street where there were—hopefully—no prying eyes. Not that you’d mind an audience.

He barely killed the engine before you flung off your seatbelt, already climbing over the console. Your dress hiked up past your thighs as you slid into his lap, rolling your hips into him under the pretense of getting comfortable.

“Jesus,” he muttered, eyes dragging down to the bare skin of your legs, the hem of your dress bunched obscenely at your waist. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“Why would I? We’re on a timer, old man.” Your hands were back on his belt buckle now, actually undoing it this time and within seconds, you confirmed that, no, viagra would not be needed on this occasion. You glanced up at him with a smirk. “Huh. Guess you’ve still got it.”

“Glad we��ve established I’m not completely past my prime.”

You huffed a laugh, slipping a hand into his boxers and wrapping your fingers around his cock, pulling him free with an appreciative hum. “Well,” you said airly, “they really don’t make ‘em like they used to.”

His response stalled on the tip of his tongue and transposed into a hiss as you lined him up and dragged his length through your wet folds. Rossi’s hand clamped down on your hip, leaving pretty little bruises to remember this night by in the morning.

“You keep that up and this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.”

“Oh, well we wouldn’t want that—” you shifted forward just enough to glide his tip over your clit, “—would we?”

He didn’t answer, just inhaled sharply through his nose, knuckles pale where they gripped you. You lowered yourself onto him bit by bit, letting out a shaky breath as your body took him in. His head dropped back against the seat, eyes shutting for a second before he looked back up at you. You weren’t smug anymore. You were too full for that.

“You alright?”

You nodded, hands coming to rest on his shoulders for balance. “Yeah. Just–jesus.”

“That’s about right.”

His hands began guiding your hips and you eased into his touch, matching his efforts, reveling in the feeling of him being exactly where you’d been craving all night. This wasn’t your usual setup, no candles, no soft sheets, no expensive wine. Sure, the car was expensive, but everything else about this was messy and a little chaotic. Your back rocked against the steering wheel with each thrust, probably leaving leather burn as another admiration piece for later, and your hand kept slipping against the fogged-up window, the cool condensation coating your palm.

“Atta’ girl,” he muttered, so low you almost missed it.

You swallowed hard around the praise.

“Yeah,” be breathed, “right there.”

You nodded—at nothing, really—too far gone to form a proper thought, the tension blooming low in your stomach, your thighs already starting to shake. Your dress was sticking to your skin in all the worst places, fingers curling tightly in his shirt, doing what they could to keep you upright. But all of those efforts were dismissed the moment his mouth latched onto the curve of your breast, teeth grazing the skin.

“Fuck, baby–I’m c-close,” you gasped, tipping your head back.

You let him take over, feeling your body begin to seize up. And you’d feel bad—if you weren’t seconds from coming—because this, all of this, trying to manoeuvre you in a cramped car definitely couldn’t be good for his back, knees, arms… neck? But you’d save the guilt for tomorrow, let him groan about what a spoiled brat you were while you pressed a heat patch to whatever sore muscle needed it most.

Your body clenched around him, thighs bracketing his as you slowed your pace considerably just as your orgasm hit. Your limbs went limp and loose and all you could feel was Rossi gripping your lower back, pushing you down onto him, as deep as he could go, groaning as he spilled inside you.

You were still slumped against him, chest to chest, catching your breath when he finally spoke. “Well, there goes my spine.”

You laughed, leaning back to try and sort your dress. “We could’ve waited.”

“Could’ve?” He raised his eyebrow at you. “You told me to pull the car over or you’d climb into my lap while I was driving. Not really the same thing, sweetheart.”

“Details,” you shrugged, attempting to smooth your hair. “Think you can go for round two?”

“You want to call an ambulance now, or wait until I’m unconscious on the floor?”

#loverrecs

142 notes · View notes

mggslover · 3 days ago

Text

in an alternative universe i don’t have daddy issues and my dad takes me and his sexy fbi friend to a drive in movie where i can suck dick and eat popcorn 🤍

You barely wince when he slides his fingers out of you and discreetly wipes your leftover slick onto the blanket you both were sitting on.

“that’s disgusting” i whisper to myself while smirking and nodding my head

summer lovin'

pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner/fem!reader genre: smut w.c.: 6.7k a/n: shoutout to summer aka prime dbf season. this could technically be seen in the same universe as either of my other dbf!hotch fics but could also be a standalone, whatever you want <3 as always feedback fuels me ily

summary: After your dad thwarts your plan to have a not-date with Aaron at the drive-in movie theatre, you improvise.

c.w.: 18+ MDNI, porn no plot, dbf!hotch, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, fingering, finger sucking, interrupted blowjob so hotch gets blue balls <3, one (1) hint of sir kink at the very end, praise kink, dirty talk, kinda fwb kinda dating hotch just needs to DTR already, no y/n

read below or on ao3 here <3

You’re at least 99% sure that summer was your favorite time of the year.

You loved that you were only a short ten-minute drive to the beach and could spend the whole day in your new bikini out by the water. You loved the cookouts that your dad always threw in your backyard, the smoke of the burgers on the grill and fresh chlorine from the pool swirling in the air. You loved staying out too late with your friends, drunk and attempting to quietly stumble through your front door as if you were a high schooler again.

But your favorite part about summer? Coming home and spending time with your dad’s best friend.

You and Hotch have been having a summer fling every time you visited for the past two years. Though, you wonder if it could still be considered a fling anymore if it lasted for more than one summer and the two of you would meet if he had a case in your state, no matter the season.

This summer was no exception. Your dad had been promoted last month, which meant that he was called into the office at least every day, thus leaving the house empty for your lonesome self.

“It’s fine,” you had said, waving him off. He had been worried that you felt like he wasn’t spending enough time together as you were only really able to see each other once a year due to your busy schedule. “If I’m bored, I’ll just drive over to Aaron’s place to bother him.”

He didn’t know that you already had your keys tucked into your purse and nothing underneath your dress, so he rolled his eyes and laughed, telling you to not to bother him too much.

Aaron’s schedule often didn’t allow time for you to spend as much time with him as you wanted, so it wasn’t entirely your fault that you had to jump at any opportunity that presented itself. It’s not like you were able to drop down to your knees and scoot in between his thighs underneath your kitchen table when he was over for dinner like you often did at his apartment, his expensive belt unbuckled and his large hand pushing down at the crown of your head.

You would almost feel bad at occupying all of Aaron’s free time if he didn’t clearly express that he didn’t mind, often accompanied with a half-smile he would try to hide and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

Now, it was the first week of August and you were starting to panic.

Your entire summer flew by you, now nothing but a blur of warm days by the pool and Aaron’s head in between your legs. You seriously don’t think you’ve had this many orgasms since you were a teenager and you went to a Spencer’s to buy a vibrator for the first time.

You’ve been trying to ignore that nagging anxiety that’s been slowly forming since the middle of the summer, but now it was a full-fledged nuisance. Now, you were just that desperate enough to spend as much time with Aaron as possible before you had to go back home to your lonely little apartment to work your lonely little job.

You try to ignore the fact that you were even willing to forgo the mind-blowing orgasms that often followed being in his company. Or the fact that you had started to think about him in non-sexual ways, such as wondering whether he had eaten that day or whether he was able to ask Jack about his science fair project that he wasn’t able to help with.

You’re laying out by the pool and scrolling on your phone, skin warm from the afternoon sun and clad in your cutest bikini, when you get the idea. Or, rather, Instagram gives you the idea in the form of multiple typos and an oversaturated picture.

It’s an ad for a local drive-in movie theatre that you didn’t know even existed announcing what they were featuring for the end of summer. Their last movie was allegedly tonight, a late showing of Grease, and claimed they still had several tickets available.

As if on cue, you hear the telltale crunching of gravel of Aaron pulling up into the driveway. A wicked smile splits your face. It was like a sign from God, or gods, or whatever the hell was out there as they served the perfect date night idea to you in the form of a badly photoshopped ad on your phone.

Your dad was still home, working at the kitchen island, but you knew that Aaron had timed it perfectly where only ten minutes after he showed up, your dad was going to get a call asking for him to come into the office. You’re going to wave him off, saying that you were fine with learning how to occupy yourself, and Aaron would claim to head out a couple minutes after him after dropping something off in his office down the hall. Most times, your dad’s car would have just barely disappeared down the street before Aaron’s spinning you around by the hips to bend over that same kitchen island and shucking your denim cutoffs down your legs.

It was the same routine that you’ve had all summer. It was nearly foolproof.

When you step through the doorway and into the kitchen, you act surprised when you spot Aaron already leaning with his hip against the stove, deliciously toned arms crossed over his sturdy chest as he was already deep in conversation with your dad about something or another.

Your dad looks away to type something painstaking slow on his laptop and Aaron takes the opportunity to raise his eyebrow at you, lazy gaze taking in your and your bright pink bikini. You bite back a smirk when his eyes get stuck on your chest, your nipples undoubtedly stiff and poking through the damp fabric at the superior air conditioning of the house.

“Hey you,” you say, feigning nonchalance. You come to stand by your dad and lean forwards on the kitchen island, inadvertently pushing your breasts up. You smile when you notice Aaron’s jaw clenching as he tries not to let his eyes stray lower than your face. “What are you doing here?”

He clears his throat and your smile grows wider when you spot the vein in his neck pulsing. “Just came to drop some files off for your dad.”

Aaron’s always coming over with papers and files that you know nothing about the contents of. You wonder if they must actually be important since he’s been using that same excuse nearly every single day for the past two months.

“Yeah, yeah,” your dad mutters, still focused on the fluorescent blue screen with his reading glasses precariously hanging on the tip of his nose.

You were nearly bouncing on the balls of your feet with excitement; any second now, your dad’s phone was going to ring and he’s going to be swept away to the office. Now was your perfect chance to bring up the movie with him where only a couple of minutes later, he’ll give you an apologetic look and ruffle your hair, telling you next time with a regretful tinge to his voice. He would have no idea that you had plans to drag his best friend with you instead.

“Dad, what are your thoughts on going to this drive-in movie a couple blocks away here in a little bit?” you ask, biting at your bottom lip to prevent breaking out in giggles. “I’ve never been to one.”

Aaron’s shuffling through the files, seemingly lost in thought, but you knew he was watching you out of the corner of his eye, interest piqued. He’s grown familiar with your antics and the way you seemingly always had a plan to appear busy when you knew your dad was going to be out. To not raise suspicion, you had said.

“Never been?” your dad finally raises his head up from that, eyes wide as he glances at you, and then Aaron. “Can you believe that?”

He chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Somehow, I can.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, if the movie’s soon, we should probably get ready and head out,” your dad says, completely ignoring you. You elbow him in the side and he elbows you right back.

He slams his laptop closed and groans when he gets off the bar stool, knees popping in the process. When he’s making his way to his bedroom to get ready, you frown and glance repeatedly at the clock. They should’ve called him about ten minutes ago.

“Hey dad,” you call out. “Are you working today?”

He’s in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt when he turns around, confusion written all over his face. “No, sweetie, I thought I told you that I decided to call out today,” he says, chuckling to himself. “Good thing you brought up that drive-in thing because I had nothing planned. Let me change and we can go.”

You may be a bit dramatic but you swear you thought the walls were caving in, anxiety causing your heartbeat to spike in rhythm as you tried to subtly pick your jaw off the floor and be casual. “Oh? You didn’t have to do that, dad.”

He doesn’t even bother looking back at you. “Of course I had to, we’ve barely seen each other all summer! Now come on, let’s get going.”

And then he’s disappearing into his bedroom with the click of a door and you’re stuck with the realization that not only are you going to be spending the next two and a half hours in the back of a car with Aaron, but also with your father sitting right next to you.

You’re still staring at the polished wood of your dad’s bedroom door, the heavy weight of Aaron’s eyes on the back of your head. You could already see the amused twist of his mouth, the slight worried furrow in his forehead that would ultimately give him away.

This wasn’t the first time your plans were thwarted by your dad and your inability to plan accordingly, such as when you had to spend the afternoon by the pool in your bikini and not nude like you had initially wanted, but you still felt a bit lousy.

When you finally face him, you were surprised to find him wearing a fond, yet exasperated expression. It melts his usual hardened appearance, making him appear younger and like the man you’ve been messing around with all summer.

He pushes himself off the kitchen counter and approaches you. Your heart thumps erratically in your sternum, something that’s been occurring a lot recently, but you chalk it up to the way Aaron’s sleeves stretch over his biceps or the way the dark red shade of his shirt makes his stomach appear softer.

He quickly leans into you and your heart skips, impossibly thinking he was actually going to kiss you with your father in the same room.

You’re not sure whether you were disappointed or relieved when he’s kissing the crown of your head, brief enough for you to get a taste of his cologne before it’s immediately ripped away from you.

“Go get ready,” he mutters, voice low and soft so there wasn’t any chance for your father to hear him. “We’ll make it work.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re strapped into the backseat of Aaron’s Range Rover, since he has more trunk room than either of your cars, a pile of blankets and snacks on the seat next to you, and watching out the window at the bright lights of the streetlamps as you pull into the parking lot of the theatre.

With the sun setting over the horizon, painting the sky in a picturesque orange and purple hue, came the cooler summer breeze blowing through your rolled down window. The tempting aroma of buttery popcorn and fried dough filled the car as Aaron drove between the numerous rows of cars to find the perfect spot.

You felt on edge. You’ve been nearly silent for the entire duration of the ten-minute drive as they continued to talk about work, as if the entire point of this outing was to definitively not talk about work, yet you didn’t mind.

You found Aaron entirely too distracting today. Every time your father was preoccupied, he was meeting your eyes through the rearview mirror, silently raising an eyebrow whenever you would smile innocently at him.

He knew you were up to something—he was able to read you as soon as you bounded downstairs in that strappy plain white sundress, the lace hem barely brushing your thighs, and smelling like his favorite perfume. You had smiled him just as innocently then too, ignoring the rush of heat that flooded your veins when his eyes darkened and his jaw tightened.

The spot he had pulled the car into was towards the back, close enough where you got a good view of the screen, but secluded enough where you wouldn’t be bothered by the loud concession stand or the group of teenagers laughing several cars over.

You immediately bounced out of the car as soon as it was set in park, arms filled with the numerous blankets you found laying around the house to set up in the backseat. You let Aaron push the backseats down and watch with a grin as he steps away. As smart as they were, neither your dad or Aaron would have the forethought to set the ugly blankets on the bottom and the fluffy and more comfortable blankets on top.

You clamber up into the trunk, sitting right in the middle with your legs splayed out and your sandaled feet hanging over the edge. Although you were secretly glad that Aaron convinced the two of you to take his car for the extra wiggle room, you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction.

Aaron climbs in next to you, groaning at the way his knees pop and the way his back isn’t fully supported as much as he would like. Even with how roomy the car’s trunk was, his jean-clad thigh still brushes against your bare one where the hem of your dress has ridden up.

You expect your dad to follow, with similar old man groaning and bones popping, probably even knocking against your shoulder with his hip, yet an exhilarated thrill runs through you when he says, “I’m going to get some popcorn, did you guys want anything?”

You clear your throat and make yourself appear busy by grabbing a spare throw blanket to throw over your bare legs, ducking your head to hide the devilish smile that threatens to form. “Nope, I brought all the salty and sugary snacks I could ever need.”

“I’m alright, thanks,” Aaron says, polite as ever, as if he couldn’t sense your desire to jump his bones at that very second.

Your father shrugs before leaving you two, just as the lights in the parking lot cut off and the only way you were even able to see your hand in front of you was from the giant screen and the glow of the bustling concession stands behind you.

You’re tempted to scold him, remind him what his doctor had said about cutting back on butter, but you honestly couldn’t pass up this opportunity to spend a couple minutes alone with Aaron. It didn’t help your case when you saw how long the concession line was, nearly wrapping around the entire carnival-esque building, so you knew you had more than enough time.

You really were initially planning on actually watching the movie, maybe grabbing his hand to hold underneath a blanket, but he just looked so good in a casual setting and not wearing those unfairly tight suits he often wore whenever he would pick you up outside the house, smelling like dried ink and lukewarm coffee.

You watch out of the corner of your eye as Hotch scoots down a bit in his seat, actually relaxing for once, as the movie starts. You wince at the way the music blares, a bit louder than you were comfortable with, and shuffle a bit closer to the furnace that is Aaron, pressing the length of your body against his.

He stiffens. His breath catches when you throw your blanket over his legs, now concealing both of your laps, and your chest brushes against his arm. He can probably tell by now that you decided to forgo a bra.

“Just making sure I don’t hog the blanket,” you say with a smile when he glances at you.

He seems to believe you, not expecting you to pull any funny business when you were surrounded by so many people, as well as your father in the near vicinity.

Which is absolutely silly on his part, considering how often the two of you had hooked up in his car on the side of the road.

You take a deep breath, the smell of butter and the faintest whiff of Aaron’s cologne filling your lungs, before you pull the corner of the throw blanket over your shoulders and place your right hand onto the meat of Aaron’s thigh.

You have to stifle a giggle when he nearly jumps out of the car, head nearly bumping against the roof. You can sense the stern words threatening to come out when he turns to you, something about how you’re in public and how now wasn’t the time on the very tip of his tongue.

Yet you keep your eyes trained on the screen, pretending to be completely enraptured as the opening credits end and transitions to the front of the high school and definitely not being distracted at how perfectly firm his thigh was even through the thick fabric of his jeans.

He doesn’t say anything, maybe assuming that you were just feeling a bit extra touchy-feely like you do when you haven’t seen each other in a couple of days. He would call you needy, but you considered yourself grateful with what you got.

He decidedly does not say anything and turns back to face the screen.

Your heart is racing, blood in your ears nearly drowning out the noises of the people in the parking lot annoyingly reciting each line of the movie one after the other. You shift in your seat, thighs brushing against each other underneath your dress, and you try not to think about why this whole scenario was actually getting you riled up.

You wait a couple more minutes, enough to where you felt Aaron’s thigh slowly relax underneath your palm, before you begin to slowly trail it upwards.

The rough fabric of his jeans against your hand was strangely soothing, warm from the heat of his skin seeping through. The pads of your fingers slide along the inner seam and you allow a manicured nail to scratch against it before gently squeezing your hand around his entire thigh.

You keep your eyes fixed straight ahead; however you’re no longer taking in the movie as you’re too aware of the way Aaron’s breath deepens or the way he imperceptible spreads his thighs apart underneath the blanket.

When your hand reaches his crotch and you feel the very sizable bulge of his half-hard cock straining against his jeans, heat crackles down your spine, adamantly pooling in between your legs. You felt a strange surge of power and experimentally squeeze your hand around the length of him, coaxing a groan that Aaron tries to bite back. Your mouth waters.

He leans down until his lips were barely brushing against the shell of your ear, the low timbre of his velvet voice causing another flare of desire to burst in your chest. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you say, giving him one final squeeze, your thumb briefly brushing against the very tip of his cock. You lay your palm flat against the bulge and wonder if precum has stared leaking through his boxers yet.

“Nothing?” And then it’s his turn to snake his arm underneath the protective guise of the blanket, over your chest, and away from prying eyes to place his own hand on your bare thigh.

Your heart rate kicks up, face suddenly feeling heated in a way you couldn’t blame the summer heat for. Aaron’s hands have always been ridiculously large, with thick fingers and rough skin mottled with endearing age spots. They were one of your favorite things about him, especially when he put them to good use.

Like he is now.

He’s squeezing the flesh of your thigh, causing you to grip the fabric of his jeans at the inseam, breath growing heavier. He doesn’t bother teasing, completely aware of the time restraint and the fact that you were surrounded by a third of the town, and when his fingertips brush against your pussy, he expects to find your favorite pair of light blue lace panties.

When he brushes against your skin instead, he pauses. You inadvertently hold your breath, not so subtly spreading your thighs apart underneath the blanket. Your left knee pokes out from the edge.

“It doesn’t look like nothing since you’re not wearing anything underneath that dress of yours.” And then he’s yanking your thighs further apart and dragging his fingertips along the seam of your pussy. He avoids your throbbing clit and takes his time to barely dip into your dripping entrance before he’s spreading your wetness in between your folds.

You have to bite back a gasp, your grip tightening where you still have a handful of denim. You resist the urge to arch your back into his touch, instead scooting down in your seat so Aaron would be able to effortlessly thrust one of those deliciously thick fingers inside of you. Your sandal dangles precariously off your foot as it hangs over the edge of the trunk.

“It’s hot out…” Your voice sounds weak even to you, your breaths coming out ragged as you attempt to cant your hips up in an effort to get Aaron to touch you where you’re nearly throbbing for him.

He hums before he’s sliding his middle finger inside of you, causing your entire body to jolt and your jaw to fall open. You bring your legs up, planting your feet onto the truck and allowing the blanket still on your lap to shield your… activities from anyone if they decided to stroll by. You squeeze your eyes shut and let your head loll onto Aaron’s sturdy shoulder.

If anyone decided to look over at the two of you, they would assume that you were a couple, albeit an odd one, casually cozying up during a date night at the drive-in movies. There were plenty of couples in the parking lot, the singing and lines being repeated back quieting down as the crowd became enthralled with a movie they’ve seen a hundred of times.

The next song in the movie plays, effectively drowning out the filthy sounds of your pussy as Aaron effortlessly slides another finger inside of you, still narrowly avoiding your clit. You let out a low moan under your breath and Aaron has to shush you.

“You have to be quiet, sweetheart,” he mutters, as if it was the easiest thing in the world and not like you were living out your horniest fantasies with a man old enough to be your father.

That thought, dirty and sinful, causes you to clench around his fingers and for you to bury your face in Aaron’s neck to quiet the wet gasps that threaten to come out of you.

You think Aaron chuckles at your reaction but you can’t even bother to be mad because his pace increases, and the indecent sound of you somehow getting wetter, his palm slapping against your clit and just barely giving you enough stimulation has your thighs trembling.

You thank every God that ever existed that Aaron was left-handed as he steadily thrusts his fingers in and out of you, curling his fingers just so to hit that spot that makes you nearly cry out, but it’s not enough.

You have to muffle your noises against the skin of Aaron’s throat, the strong clean smell of his cologne mixing in with sweat had your mind spinning, stoking at the arousal that was building faster and stronger with each second that passed.

“Aaron…” you whimper, abandoning where you were pathetically attempting to rub his cock through his jeans to take a hold of forearm.

He doesn’t stop. In fact, your grip on him seems to make him go faster, deeper. He tilts his head to press his lips to your forehead and then quietly asks “Are you going to come for me, honey? In front of all these people?”

You whine, shaking your head and burying your face further into him, words catching in your throat and desperately hoping he would know exactly what you needed.

He makes a faux sympathetic noise. “Your pussy needs a little bit more, doesn’t she?”

To your absolute horror, he slowly takes his fingers out of your pussy and you make a pitiful noise, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes at the utter confusion and annoyance swirling in your chest as you lift your head up from his shoulder.

“Wha—”

He brings his free hand up to your face, glowing with an array of flashing colors from the screen. You’re barely able to discern the dark glint in his eyes, pupils wide and his lips parted as he breathes heavily. “Suck.”

Before you could even think, realize that you’re only a couple feet away from strangers and that any of the people walking back from the concession stand could pass by you, one of them possibly even being your own fucking father, you’re meeting his gaze and obediently parting your lips to let him slide two fingers into your mouth.

You can feel the corners of your lips stretch, accommodating the girth of his fingers, his skin tasting clean with a faint hint of your lavender soap he used before you left and his rough callouses brushing against your tongue. You make sure to swirl your tongue over his fingers sloppily despite knowing you wouldn’t need it, have never needed it, because Aaron was able to have you dripping down your thighs with just one word.

You hollow your cheeks, peering up at him from underneath your eyelashes, and your clit throbs painfully when he wordlessly slides his fingers deeper into your mouth.

When he pulls his hand away, a trail of your saliva follows, connecting your spit-slick mouth to him. The vulgar sight causes your face to heat up.

“Good girl.”

The praise nearly lights you from the inside out, your thighs instinctively parting wider as his wet hand dips underneath the blanket to caress your folds again.

You’re completely drenched, your inner thighs sticky with your arousal, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you were leaving a wet spot on the blankets underneath you.

You pay that no mind, completely unable to, as Aaron easily slides the two fingers that was just in your mouth into your aching pussy with a wet noise. He immediately starts fucking into you, his thumb circling your throbbing clit at a maddeningly steady pace, now focused on pushing you over the edge as soon as possible.

A strangled moan erupts from you, caught off guard at the onslaught of pleasure running hot through your body, and Aaron is immediately tilting down to capture your lips in a kiss.

You’re distantly aware that he hasn’t kissed you at all today, not even while he’s been fingering you in public underneath a blanket, and the revelation nearly causes a rise in unseated annoyance to spark in your chest if it weren’t for the fact that you felt your muscles tensing and your lower belly coiling with your impending orgasm.

His mouth is hungry against yours, tongue sliding into yours as he easily swallows the steady stream of your moans as he fingers you faster, rubs your clit a bit rougher.

When you pull away, chest feeling tight at the lack of oxygen, you manage to let out a high-pitched whine against his lips that you hope understands as your hips roll up to meet his thrusts, not even caring if the lewd wet noises of your pussy was audible over the movie.

“You better come before your dad gets back.”

The low tone of his voice simmers through you as he’s curling his fingers, nearly grinding them into you, and you’re biting your bottom lip to muffle your moan. Your pussy clenches around him, hips stuttering into his thrusts as you come so hard you swear your vision blurs around the edges.

He continues to fuck into you, letting you ride it out, and you have to push his wrist away while your ears were still ringing as your oversensitive clit begins to throb. You felt sluggish and like you’re one second away from melting through the floor of the car, your entire body limp and sated.

You barely wince when he slides his fingers out of you and discreetly wipes your leftover slick onto the blanket you both were sitting on. You lean your head back onto the headrest, tilting slightly away from the warmth of Aaron’s body as you desperately hoped a cool breeze would pick up and magically blow into the trunk of the car and onto your heated face.

Aaron reaches over your body for the forgotten bag of food, rummaging for the bag of salted pretzels he knows you packed because he knows you’re seconds away from begging for a snack. However, him straightening up and twisting his body into yours reminds you of the very sizeable shape of his hard cock visible through the crotch of his jeans.

Embarrassment floods through you as you remember that, despite your initial plan to pay attention to Aaron and tease him, it had totally backfired and you were the one who still got off. Despite him always assuring you not to worry about him, it just didn’t feel right, and plus, you wanted to.

Just like you expected, when you grab the bag of pretzels to toss aside to place your palm on his crotch where he’s still hard, he puts his hand over yours to stop you. “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

You roll your eyes and knock his hand aside. “I want to.”

And then you tuck your legs primly underneath yourself and duck underneath the blanket, situating yourself until you were essentially kneeling over him and your face was merely inches away from the bulge in his jeans.

Aaron makes a strangled noise that you can barely hear over the sound of the movie still playing, but he doesn’t stop you as you’re expertly popping the button of his jeans open and dragging the zipper down. With some shuffling and maneuvering, his jeans and boxers are bunched around his thick thighs and his cock is out, curving against his stomach and flushed an angry red.

The heat of him is palpable, his heady musk stronger now thanks to the blanket over his lap, and you lick your lips, your cunt pulsing from arousal again. When you wrap your hand around him, his cock twitches and you can see Aaron’s hand fisting the edge of the blanket.

You could tell he was on edge, probably surprisingly closer than to he expected from just fingering you until you bit your lip raw and surrounded by a crowd of people. You smile wickedly at the thought that he was getting off to this just as much as you before you’re tilting your chin up and parting your lips over the head of his leaking cock.

You hear a muffled noise, most likely Aaron refraining from groaning out loud, as you open your mouth further to accommodate the girth of him as he slides deeper into you. You squeeze your hand around the base of him as you lower and lower until the head of his cock brushes against the back of your throat, your lips meeting your fist.

Aaron curses quietly, his breathing turning ragged as he tries to keep his hips still so he doesn’t make you gag, letting you take your time despite his own judgements.

You know he was expecting your usual teasing—kitten licks at the head to savor his precum or the flat of your tongue tracing the vein along the underside of his cock. But it must have been over 15 minutes already and, as much as you want to leisurely lick and suck him until you were dripping wet again and your jaw got sore, you’re running out of time.

You unfurl your fist around the base of his cock to place on the bare skin of his thigh and begin to bob your head, rivulets of your drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth and coating him.

He seems to understand because he’s sneaking a hand underneath the blanket to cradle the back of your head, keeping you steady, before he’s lifting his hips up to start fucking into your mouth.

Something simmers at the base of your skull, your eyes fluttering shut, as you let him take control in that seamless way he always does. Submitting to him was always exhilarating, making you feel drunk and like you were a second away from floating out of your body with just one look, one large hand wrapped around your throat.

It happens now as you concentrate on making sure you didn’t gag, trying to open your jaw further so he could continue using your mouth whichever way he wants. The sounds of the movie and the audience singing along filters through your brain and out your ears, the only thing you’re aware of being your harsh breaths and the filthy crude noises of his thick cock hitting the back of your throat.

Aaron grunts, barely audible over the movie, and his hips begin to stutter, his fist clenching and unclenching where he still has a grip on the back of your neck. You swallow around him as best as you could, mentally preparing yourself for the first spurt of his come hitting the back of your throat and wondering if you could get away from sitting on his lap and angling his cock inside of your aching pussy for a little bit.

You don’t hear the sound of the car door opening until Aaron’s grip on the back of your neck tightens, essentially stilling you with your lips still wrapped around his cock.

“Shit, can you believe I got to the front of the line and I forgot my wallet?”

Aaron hums in response, though it sounds strained to you. His muscled thighs are tense, as if anticipating this was the moment that your father would discover his daughter was sleeping around with his best friend by his cock in your mouth.

Your ears burn as you slowly lift yourself off of him, making sure you swallow to refrain from any lewd noises from your mouth. You and Aaron seem to have the same idea as you stay hunched over his lap, hiding out of your dad’s eyeline, the thick blanket covering you.

There are sounds of him rummaging around the seats, even checking the middle console, and then he’s making a triumphant noise and closing the console shut. You’re not exactly sure why his wallet was in the console of Aaron’s car, but there were evidently more important matters as you watched his cock, right in front of your face, soften with each passing second.

“Where’d that girl get to now?”

Aaron clears his throat and you have to bite your lip to hide your smile when his cock twitches. “She had to go to the restroom.”

A sigh. “Well, I better go back and get in line. You sure you don’t want anything, Hotch?”

There’s a tinge of frustration when he speaks again “I’m good, thanks.”

You could almost imagine the noncommittal shrug your dad gives before you hear the slam of the car door being shut and his whistling along to the song on the screen that gradually fades away.

Aaron’s hand finally leaves your neck, silently telling you that the coast was clear. You’re not sure if you’re wanting it back or not, but one glance at his cock, nearly completely soft, has you holding back a sigh.

When you finally sit up, you’re sure you look like a mess. The neckline of your dress was probably pulled down a little too low still, your hair frizzy and tangled from his hands, and your lips swollen and puffy.

However, when Aaron glances at you with a soft expression, the start of a smile tugging at his lips and his thumb coming to swipe at the corner of your mouth, you felt like the prettiest woman in the city.

“I guess we’re done for tonight, huh?” you ask, attempting to pass it off as a joke but your voice sounds weak even to you.

“I’m okay with that,” he says, voice gentle and not like he was trying to hold back his moans merely two minutes ago. He tucks himself back into his jeans and you have to lift the edge of the blanket up to make sure that he had gone fully soft. When he’s done, he studies you, an unreadable glint in his eyes that causes your heart to flip in your chest.

Before you could say something idiotic, something that would disrupt the easygoing nature of your undefined relationship, he raises his arm to rest on the back of the seat. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the slight flex of his bicep and the shine of his fancy watch against his wrist, shamelessly admiring the way it glints underneath the light.

When you tear your gaze away from the sudden filthy thoughts revolving that specific watch, he’s raising an eyebrow at you, and then, “Come here.”

A giddy smile erupts on your face before you could help it. You try to suppress a squeal as you shuffle closer into Aaron’s embrace, letting the warmth of him bleed through his shirt as you press your cheek into his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his middle to intertwine your fingers with your arm that you have curled around his back.

He’s so soft, with his belly rising and falling with each breath and the way he brings his arm down from the back of the seat to rest around your shoulders, pulling you further into him. You’re not sure if the sense of calmness that overcomes you was from the comforting scent of his cologne or the orgasm his fingers just brought you to.

A girly type of excitement fills your chest at the fact that you were cuddling him so publicly, such a rare event that has only happened when he’s come to visit you when out on a case. You know he can see your smile out of the corner of his eye, the way you try to wiggle further into him as if you’re trying to crawl into his skin, but he stays silent.

The two of you sit in silence and, surprisingly, watch the movie, with you singing along and Aaron shaking his head at you. You know he’s mouthing along to the lyrics, you just can’t quite prove it.

You hear the distinct off-tune whistling from your dad and scramble to put a respectable distance between you and Aaron.

His hand shoots out to grab at your wrist and you ignore the way arousal licks up your spine at the way his fingers easily dwarf yours and how unbearably attractive he is when he leans in to whisper into your ear.

“Maybe you can come over tonight after the movie to finish what you started.”

You bite back a smile, noticing how it wasn’t exactly a question, but rather a concise demand. You also knew that Aaron can be impatient, especially after he didn’t get a chance to finish in your mouth like he wanted to, and that you were most definitely going to pay for it later.

“Yes, sir.”

taglist <3: @kiwriteswords @solardrop @knitmeatardis @mggslover @maeintree @pastelpinkflowerlife @storiesofsvu @actualdeemon @khxna @ssa-writerminds

#love u denise #im your biggest fan dont believe anyone else #loverrecs

512 notes · View notes

mggslover · 4 days ago

Text

469 notes · View notes

mggslover · 5 days ago

Text

FOR YOUR LOVE (i’ll do whatever you want) — spencer reid

In which Spencer begs for your forgiveness.

genre smut (18+) cw dacryphilia, pathetic love and touch starved spence, worship and praise, begging, crawling, marking his back with your heels, oral (f receiving), p in v, mirror sex, some discussion/fighting, established relationship, mention of r having a mom, r wearing a dress and heels wc 4,1k a/n race against the clock to post this on the kinkfest date. literally going on vacation in a couple of hours and yes i used my precious sleeping time writing this. you cant tell me i don’t have my priorities straight /jk

Spencer: We delivered a wrong profile Spencer: I can’t make it tonight Spencer: I’m so sorry Spencer: ❤️

You didn’t have to check your purse when the notifications chimed in, already knowing the messenger and the context. It wasn’t the first time Spencer had cancelled on you: lunches, dates, holidays, vacations… To be honest, you had stopped trying. Had stopped planning anything in advance and telling yourself that spontaneous activities were more fun. But right now, sitting in a restaurant with your family as you were celebrating your mother’s birthday that you had been planning for weeks, it was a harsh reminder that this lifestyle wasn’t fun. Not at all.

The one-year mark of your relationship was coming up, and you finally felt stable enough to introduce your boyfriend to your family. It wasn’t a thing you often or easily did, the gesture meaning a big deal to you. And Spencer had known that and had promised you that he would show up at all costs. But he didn’t, leaving you embarrassed as your family laughed and joked about the actual existence of this mystery man that you had been so infatuated with.

The dinner started in longing, wishing you had Spencer’s warm hand to hold in yours underneath the table when the conversations got too loud, or wishing for one of his intricate analyses on which dessert you should choose when you got handed the menu. But every time his name got mentioned, your frustrations began to grow.

“Thanks,” you mutter to your Uber driver while handing him twenty bucks for your ride home. Wrapping your arms around yourself (while thinking of Spencer, who always takes your jacket with him or gives you his when you refuse to take one with you, like now), you walk up to your apartment.

In your periphery, you notice a soft, dim light shining through the curtains of your living room, the sound of clicking heels against pavement halting abruptly. The latter texts you’ve received must’ve been him asking you if he could come over to your place while probably standing in front of your doorstep already. It had been raining earlier, so you can’t blame him for using the spare key you handed him after the four months you’d been dating. You gave him the excuse that you were too sleepy to open the door for him when he’d come home from a case in the middle of the night, and when he suggested that he could sleep at his place on those days, you had come up with another excuse while placing the key in his palm and closing his fingers around it. He had smiled goofily at you, had seen right through the act, obviously. But he didn’t comment on it, besides pressing a gentle kiss to your hand that was wrapped around his fist.

You never imagined a day to come where you’d feel sad and annoyed about the prospect of him sitting on your couch, able to envision the way he’s shaking his knees as he’s trying to come up with a new way to apologize for this repeated conflict.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of your mind, you unlock the door and open it with a soft creak. The hallway gives a panoramic view of the open living room, and like a deer caught in flashlights, Spencer’s head whips around to face you, those big brown bambi eyes searching for yours despite the few feet of distance.

He catches on to your mood as you silently place your purse on the dresser. The pillows on the couch ruffle as he sits up straighter, bending his body to face you.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t show up today,” his voice cracks, and you hate the way the small sound pulls on your heartstrings. “I– I don’t know what went wrong with the profile. We established it was a white male, but then—”

“Then it turned out to be a woman, and everyone was thrown off guard,” you finish with a jab. “I know how it goes, Spencer. A simple apology isn’t going to do it anymore.”

A sigh escapes you. “God, you don’t know how many times I had to reschedule things so that it fit into your schedule. This isn’t going to work if you can’t understand that.”

Desperation laced the soft tone of his whisper. “Then what do I do?”

You raise your hands in the air in question before they fall back on your thighs with a thud. “Well, I don’t know. Beg on your knees for forgiveness?”

The harsh sarcasm slithered off of your tongue. It’s the classic image of mercy: hands clasped together, pleading on your knees with tear-streaked cheeks. There was no way he didn’t understand that. Still, the despair must have been bigger than his ego, because when you looked at him again, he had fallen to the ground, legs resting on the carpet.

“Spencer,” you start in a warning, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“I’ll do anything you tell me to do. Don’t be mad at me, please?”

Next were his hands. His long, delicate fingers made contact with the floor. And then his back: arching it like the pose came naturally to him.

“Spencer, please,” you try again, embarrassed by the way your skin heats at the act when you’re supposed to be mad at him.

With the way he’s bent down, you’re able to take a peek into his dress shirt and see the soft reddened skin of his neck and upper chest, decorated in some faded freckles you could blindly point out by now. It was only emphasized by the way his tie was sweeping over the floor with every hypnotizing sway of his hips as he crawled his way over to you.

There was no space to back away, feeling the cold wood of the dresser hit the back of your bare legs as you stumbled back. And truly, you were too curious to see how far he was planning on taking this in an attempt to win your forgiveness.

Kneeling in front of you, you could make out the faded red spots creased under his eyes, indicating that he’s probably cried before — beating himself up over not being able to make it. Those eyes were dangerous, you’ve always said it, big and glassy as they blink up at you, the green hints visible that you weren’t always able to see.

“You look so beautiful, I didn’t tell you that.”

He hadn’t.

You’d sent him a picture of the dress you were wearing when you were getting ready, him still at Quantico. When you first started dating, you quickly learned that Spencer wasn’t a good texter — far from it — but over time, he’d learned to text you back right away. On days when he wasn’t busy then. If you didn’t get a response back in the next two minutes, it was a sign for you to cancel whatever you had planned, knowing it would take at least hours for him to get home. Today was a day like that.

Spencer let his hand trail over your calf and up to the inside of your knee, goosebumps erupting at the gentle caress of his fingers.

He inches closer toward you, messy locks tickling as his eyes flit over your legs that are at eye-level with him. “Heels give the illusion that your legs are longer,” he explains, pressing a chaste kiss to the bare skin, testing the waters. “It all has to do with gravity,” another kiss, “you shift the center of it, which changes the body’s proportions,” kiss.

Every word he spoke, and every moment you stayed silent in anticipation, he took as an opportunity to take it a step further. Sweet pecks turned into longer presses of his lips, wetting them with his tongue to a dark pink hue before kissing you again. Occasionally giving a lick before wrapping his mouth around the muscle, sucking a mark.

It was a distraction. He was playing exactly into the need he knew you always had for him. It was a new tactic, and you had to give it to him; it was starting to work.

“Stop,” you announced, your voice stern as you used the tip of your shoe to press against his chest, pushing him slightly back.

His brows furrowed, mouth dropping open in dissatisfaction. “Why?”

The way he says it makes him sound like a small child, not understanding the concept of not being able to get anything they want. And whatever nurturing qualities you have in you cause you to feel guilty. The clear, watery drops forming at the corners of his eyes don’t help with that either.

You cross your arms, assembling defiance. “Seducing me is fucking low, Spencer,” you scoff.

“I— I wasn’t—“ he panics. “I just missed you. I needed to touch you.”

“Well, I missed you too, Spencer! You were supposed to be there,” you groan out in frustration.

“I know, and I’m so sorry! I mean it.” He quickly apologizes. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats, burying his face back into your thigh.

The wet stains of his tears transferred to your inner thighs, making his lashes stick messily together when he looked up at you. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Let me make it up to you? Please?”

Reaching out, you wrap his tie around your fingers, making him groan as you tug him up on his feet.

Instinctively, he reaches out to place his big palms on either side of your waist, pulling you close.

“Nuh, uh, uh,” you tsk. “Help me up here.” You nod to the dresser you’re leaning against.

He blinks his confusion away, lowering his hands and bending through his knees to lift you up. You’re gently placed on the hardwood, dress lifted up in a bunch at your waist.

Maneuvering his body between yours, he’s ready to cup your cheek and envelop you in a kiss when you place your finger to his lips.

“Come on, angel,” he cries as you deny him again.

“You’re such a crybaby, Spence,” you huff. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

With his impatience igniting yours, you decide to not wait any longer and spread your legs.

Spencer’s gulp is visible, Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes drift to the lace between your thighs.

You raise an eyebrow. “Want to make it up to me?”

“Yes,” he answers breathlessly and nods. “I’ll do anything.”

“Kiss me, then,” you dare, fighting a sly smile as his pupils widen in awe.

Spencer drops himself to his knees, fitting his frame in between your legs as he spreads them open wider, the cold whoosh of wind that comes with the movement tickling your sensitive, covered folds.

He held you by your hips, scooting you forward so that his mouth was aligned with your cunt. “Smell so good,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose over your inner thighs. “Can’t wait to taste you.”

With that, he used the tip of his button nose to draw a line up your folds, his tongue following behind as it lapped up a wet stripe. You shivered at the touch, abdomen flexing as the thin lacy fabric pressed against you with the power of his tongue.

“Gonna get you so wet for me, going to make you feel so good,” he breathed against you, not sure if he intended for you to hear or if it was a promise to himself.

He repeated the motion, humming as his tongue came across your clit, feeling it swell under the tip of his tongue as he expertly flicked the little bud.

The barrier of underwear was starting to bother him, wanting — no, needing — to hear more of the beautiful, soft moans you were trying to hold back.

Carefully, he curved his finger into the fabric, pulling it aside so that it rested in the place where your thigh met your puffy lips. Then he dove back in.

“Yeah,” you moaned, leaning your head back. You could practically feel yourself dripping at this point, though you had to concentrate on it, because the second a stream flooded out of you, Spencer was there to lap it up.

Spencer was a loud lover: moaning and humming as he nibbled on your labia and circled your needy hole, getting immense pleasure from the way you squirmed or gasped when he hit the spot, from being the one to make you feel good.

You locked your legs around his back. With your heels still on, you dragged the sharp red points across his skin, pulling him in deeper.

“Oh, Spence, that’s it, right there—“ you whimpered, hands reaching out to lock in his hair.

His cock twitched up in his pants, rubbing against the pre-cum-stained spot that had been accumulating from the moment he went down on you.

Nothing spurred him on more than seeing you be so eager as you finally touched him, reaching out to him willingly.

On a mission to earn your love and release, he started sucking on your sweet spots with all his might. He hummed against the delicate pearl that was situated between his lips, keeping your hips steady, almost bruising you as he held you in place while you shook as your orgasm came down.

He continued to lick you clean while avoiding your sensitive clit. Reaching out with his thumb, he gathered the last of your wetness before pushing it back into you.

“Fuck,” you softly cry when his thumb enters you.

He hummed in observation. “You came without me using my fingers.”

A hoarse chuckle escaped your throat. “So what? You decided to finger-fuck me now?”

“I’d rather fuck you with my cock,” he states, the dirty words a sharp contrast to the sweet, boyishness of his voice.

Taking his words in, you decide to give him what he wants. Albeit on your terms.

“Stand up and turn around.”

It was fun ordering him around. Especially when he actually listened because his pulsing cock drove him desperate enough.

His knees cracked a little when he stood up, holding your gaze for as long as he could before he turned around, his back facing you.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in closer until you were able to let your hands slide over his shoulders. You rested your head on them, breath fanning across his neck. “Did I hurt you with my heels?”

“N-no,” he swallowed at the proximity. “It felt good.”

You laughed, the sound reverberating in his chest, freeing a swarm of butterflies. “Of course you enjoyed it. You’re being such a good boy for me.”

The tips of your fingers moved down until they were splayed across his chest. Batting his tie away, you started opening up the buttons on his shirt — a skill you had grown quite expert in since dating Spencer Reid.

He breathed out a shaky exhale, chest rising and falling rapidly as more of his skin got exposed to the tension-filled air.

Knowing you weren’t able to reach the lower buttons (or maybe it was an act of haste), Spencer lent you a hand in taking the shirt off.

With a soft thud, the white fabric fell to the ground, and you hummed in pride as you spotted two pairs of red lines over his back.

Using your nails, you traced the pattern that you had created.

“Feels good, baby,” Spencer panted. His own hand has found its way to his bulge, squeezing the throbbing length in search of relief.

“Don’t know why you’re even trying,” you comment in a silken purr as you spot Spencer’s actions. “You know my hands feel better than yours.”

Despite not being able to see his face, you could tell a rouge blush had found its way to his cheeks by now. His voice sounded hopeful. “Would you touch me?”

You responded with a hum and a gentle squeeze of his slender waist. “You’ve been doing a very good job at listening. I think you deserve a reward. What do you think?”

He quickly nods. “Yeah. I’ve been good to you.”

It’s almost like he needs to remind himself, still feeling guilty of not showing up this evening when he had promised you so.

Still, he saw your words as an invitation to turn back around. He had his bottom lip trapped in between his teeth, watching you watch him.

“Looks pretty painful,” you remark as you let your fingers graze over his bulge.

Spencer bucks his hips up into you, cursing at his bodily functions as you take your hand away.

“Now you have to keep being patient, or I can put a stop to this right now.”

He didn’t know when he had subconsciously handed the reins back to you, you now in power when he had believed he’d found your salvation in between your thighs.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll be good.”

With a trusting nod, you moved to the button on his pants, undoing it with ease, and the zipper followed swiftly along.

You had to wrap your fingers around his shaft to pull him out, his cock having filled the fabric to the point where it was a struggle to just tug the material down his legs.

A sound in between a gasp and a moan left your lips at the sight of him. No matter how many times you’d seen him like this, it never failed to amaze you.

“You’re so pretty, Spence.”

His eyes were focused on the way your manicured nails tapped along his length. “Thank you.”

You used your thumb to paint his tip in sticky pre-cum, prepping him for what might come, as Spencer fought the urge to hiss in delight.

“You want more than just my hands, though.”

Spencer’s eyes found yours. He tried to read you, but it wasn’t as easy as it was on the job, distracted both by your beauty and by your warm touch as you played with him.

“If I’m allowed to,” he responded in perfect politeness.

You didn’t smile, solely shrugged. “I’m still pretty pissed at you,” you squeezed him in your palm. “Don’t know if I’ll allow you the pleasure.”

“But you deserve the pleasure,” he quickly intervened. “I’m not doing it for me,” lie, “you deserve to feel good.”

The wheels were turning in your head, and he used the chance to convince you more, adding some oil to the rusty mechanics. “You don’t even have to look at me. I’ll— I’ll turn you around. You can just focus on you. On feeling good.”

“Alright.”

He could cry in relief, his balls straining at the prospect. If there’s one situation he’s been most grateful he’s learned negotiation for at the academy, it might be this.

Gently, he helped you off the dresser, only to turn you around and attentively bend you over it. It was only then that he noticed the large round mirror on the wall above. He didn’t say any of it. Praying desire has clouded your mind as well.

After becoming aware of the mirror’s presence, he seemed to not be able to look away. It was a picture-perfect image, after all. Your face scrunched in pleasure as he held you by your hips and entered you in one smooth, long stroke.

Spencer sucked in a breath. “So warm, baby.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the skin to soften his whines as he started moving into you.

Your hands were gripping the sides of the dresser, nails biting into the wood as he stretched out your walls.

“You’re so beautiful,” he moaned into your shoulder, his breath starting to heave as he picked up his pace.

He was absolutely enamored by the way your breasts bounced, having asked you to pull the straps of your dress and bra down, your dress now bunched around your waist as Spencer used it as extra grip to slap his hips against you.

“Can you squeeze them for me, please?”

Catching his expression in the mirror, you couldn’t even try to hide your amusement at the question. Spencer held you steadily enough to let your hands roam to your tits, cupping the soft flesh before pressing them together.

An actual cry came out of his mouth, absolutely lovestruck with you as he fastened his speed.

“Mmhm,” he moans in a muffled tone, lips pressed against your hair, unapologetically taking whiffs of the sweet scent.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” he praises as he picks up his speed, heavy balls slapping against you as his hot body is hovering over you.

The heat of his skin warming yours and the weight of the words he speaks engulf the entirety of your body in tingling sparks.

“So nice, Spence,” you softly whine as he presses into you deeper, leaving a mark inside that was only for him to feel.

“I know, baby. It’s so nice for me too,” he hums, his thumbs rubbing circles against your back.

The sensations were overwhelming, Spencer having his cock nuzzled inside of you, gratefully accepting him with every flutter of your cunt.

“So pretty. So messy, baby,” Spencer whines as he covers your shoulder in wet kisses, matching the sounds of skin against skin.

Through the reflection in front of you, you could see his face shining in what you first thought was sweat — but upon another look, realized were tears streaming down his face.

In concern, you commented on it. “Spencer, are you crying?”

“I— I’m sorry. You just feel so good, angel. I can’t help it.” He squeaked, not stopping the steady and deep rhythm that he had created.

You laughed, but the sound turned into a loud moan when his hand ghosted over your stomach and found its way to your clit.

“Can I make you come?”

“Yes!” You whine, teeth sinking into your lip. “Yes, please, Spencer.”

“Oh god, baby,” Spencer groans back. Hearing you be the one to beg him drove him crazy. He positioned you on his cock with his free hand, finding a new angle that made his eyes roll back in delight.

Sweat dripped down his face to his jaw, mixing with yours. His chest heaved against your back while he pinned you down against the dresser. His lips were on your shoulder and neck, sucking marks without any precision or care, just need. And two of his fingers moved against your clit at a speed that continued to fasten. You felt him everywhere.

A desperate sound filled the room. “I’m gonna come, baby, I can’t hold it anymore.” Spencer panted. “You feel so good. Jesus, so fucking good, angel.”

“Mmh,” you nod. “Want to feel you come inside of me, Spence. Fill me up.”

Your request was immediately answered. With a deep groan, followed by smaller moans and cries, he spilled into you.

He doesn’t stop like he usually would because of the sensitivity but instead prolongs the moment as long as he can — most of all, because he needs you to come too.

“Almost there,” you gasp in a breath as his fingertips are pulling you under.

Just a moment later, you’re shaking. Hands patting the dresser and reaching out to grab his arms in an effort to ground yourself as he makes you come.

You thought you saw it wrong when you looked at him in the mirror, seeing his mouth form the O-shape you knew all too well. But then his cock twitched inside of you, never having softened, and warm drops of his seed filled you again.

“Oh, angel,” he cried, his arms moving up to wrap around your waist.

“I know,” you reassure him. “You did so good, Spence. Made me feel so good.”

His hips shake and twitch until he’s given you his all.

He presses another kiss to the side of your forehead. “‘M sorry for today.”

Reaching your hand behind you, you cupped the other side of his face, forcing him to look at your reflection in front of him.

“It’s okay. You made it up to me,” you gently smiled.

“Should’ve just left work,” he sniffled, his grip around you lessening.

“Hey,” your tone takes him out of his thoughts, and you place your hand atop his to strengthen his hold on you. “She’ll still be in town. Why don’t we visit tomorrow morning? It’s on the way to Quantico, so worst case scenario, you drop me off and take the subway.”

A smile creeps onto his face, accepting your touch when you intertwine your fingers with his on your stomach. “That sounds good.”

#reblog of my last fic to motivate myself to write this weekend 🫡#actively fighting imposter syndrome/writing slump

606 notes · View notes

mggslover · 7 days ago

Text

mggslover core: calling an uber for a 10 min walk bc my heels are fucking killing me

#its so hot out my feet have grown thrice their size #the whole walk is cobblestone and gapped bridges this is some minecraft parkour i cannot do #its the glass on the street and not my ego that kept me from going barefoot #mind u im not rich im just dying #mggsloverrambles

9 notes · View notes

mggslover · 12 days ago

Photo

EMILY PRENTISS | 16.09 “MEMENTO MORI”

#oh yeah

760 notes · View notes

mggslover · 14 days ago

Note

Hiiii im the anon who asked about chapter 3 of your Spencer fic, thank u so much for answering 🥹, I’ll be patiently waiting for it and in the meantime I hope you’re having an awesome vacation!! I hope your internship goes well too!!! 🤍 k bye🩷

aww thank you <33 i hope so too!

vacation so far is… eventful?? to say the least lmaoo, for the ppl that watch sarah baska i feel like i could make an hours long storytime video like that too 😭 but i’m trying to enjoy myself through the chaos

#lover answers

1 note · View note

mggslover · 14 days ago

Note

Hiiii how are you? I just wanted to ask if you’re planning on doing a part 3 of your Spencer fic ‘reflections’ 🥹 it’s just so good and I’m dying to know what happens next😭🩷 no pressure tho I just wanted to know🥺 k bye🤍

hi honey 💖💖 i appreciate that so much!!

i’m on vacation rn and when i get back i’ll be starting a fulltime internship for the summer so i cannot give you an exact date but i can promise you that it’s a very high priority to write it (and i have the whole plot thought out already) (scared to even put it on paper lol, but i will)

have definitely learned my lesson for next time to finish writing a series before posting the chapters but i am so happy y’all are still interested in reading the final part and are giving me all the time & space to write it! 🤍

#lover answers

5 notes · View notes

mggslover · 18 days ago