persephonewritessometimes - Tumblr blog

persephonewritessometimes · 7 months

Text

yeaaaaahhhhh baby

Prey | Professor!Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

PART 2

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You were determined to stay collected and have your professor make the first move. To make him believe he's the one desperate for you. He's onto you though. He knows what you want, what you need. And he's going to give it to you.

Warnings: Professor!Spencer, fem!Reader, Teacher/student relationship, age gap, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), NO Y/N, fingering, praise kink, degradation, dacryphilia, humiliation, semi-public sex, rough sex, creampie, choking, aftercare. If I missed any warnings please tell me!

3.9K words

Criminology wasn't the first class you'd voluntarily take. It was interesting enough, really. But not at all necessary for your degree.

You loved true crime as much as the next college-aged girl. That's what your excuse would be, at least, when people would inevitably ask why the hell you signed up for the class. But the real reason?

You'd seen him on campus a couple times, only a semester ago. His jagged yet put-together exterior intrigued you. His eyes met yours, if only for a split second. He was perceptive. Very perceptive.

The third time you saw him meeting with the dean, you knew you were hooked. You felt yourself mouth the syllables of his name. Heard the sound falling off your lips in a whispered tone as you overheard him introduce himself to the Criminal Law professor.

Doctor Spencer Reid.

You'd done your research, as any self-respecting student would. He was an FBI agent working for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He was a proper genius with several degrees under his belt, even when he was your age.

He wasn't anymore, your age.

A notice got posted on the college's website a few days after your last sighting. Doctor Spencer Reid of the FBI would teach several seminars this semester, with voluntary attendance and limited availability.

You signed up in a heartbeat. You told yourself it was because he was an enigma, a puzzle for you to solve. His posture, eyes and even how he spoke screamed 'Solve me!' You, someone notorious for your ability to read people, couldn't figure him out. It frustrated you. Everything about him invited you to try and peel back the layers to let you see inside.

Were you maybe a tad too obsessed with the man without ever having spoken to him? Obviously, but you couldn't help yourself. You loved a good mystery. And this was one gorgeous mystery.

You tried to be deliberate about everything when you entered the first seminar. Don't spare the professor a second glance, but be genuinely interested. Don't hang off every word falling from his lips but raise your hand often enough to appear engaged. You wanted him to be the one to notice you first, even if it was anything but the truth.

But Professor Reid was a professor in his field for a good reason. He caught your calculated gaze a few times. Watched as you schooled your expression to perfection. Spencer had to admit, you were good. But he was better. He noticed how your stare dropped to his hands as he moved them while speaking. Noticed how the pattern of your breathing was unnatural. If his hearing was superhuman, he would've heard your heart beat irregularly.

You could seek control of the situation as much as you wanted, but your body would betray you time and time again. Spencer thrived in this little cat-and-mouse game you'd tried to set him up for. He knew you'd convinced yourself you were the cat, calculated, ready to pounce. He smiled to himself at the comparison. If only you knew you were the mouse in this situation, insignificant and small under his watchful eye. Something for him to feast on.

He'd seen you that day; the first time he was on campus. Captured your observant eye with amusement simmering in his mind. He knew who you were, and why you were here, the second you walked into the classroom. You'd tried to appear confident, sure of yourself, by walking to a spot near the front without sparing anybody around you a second glance. But Spencer saw it for what it was. A nervous but powerful stride of a girl begging for a grain of validation.

It had been brought to his attention that several girls in the class were only auditing, but not you. You were here for the real deal. You were committed to figuring him out. He could see it in the way your eyes raked over his body, reading his body language with every syllable spoken. You were genuinely interested in the subject matter, even if it was only to listen to him explain it.

He was flattered, really. Although your interest in the professor might've started as superficial as the other girls', he could see himself in the way you lost yourself in the infatuation. It wasn't just his looks that pulled you into his orbit. You were intrinsically aware of the grief, trauma and heartache he'd built up over the years. You were dying to be a part of the gravity that shaped him.

He could see how you had the power to mould people when you had your claws in them. Though, he wasn't sure it was a conscious ability you possessed. Maybe it was just who you were. You had a need for control in every sense of the word. And God, did he want to take it away from you.

If he didn't know any better, he'd be afraid you'd commit a string of murders if only it meant he would have to read into it. Consider every detail of the crime scene so he'd have to figure you out. It was admirable; your passion for complete dominance. But you couldn't fool Spencer.

He saw the way you crossed your arms, bit the skin on your lips until they bled, and picked at the skin around your nails, not quite bringing them up to your mouth to bite them, knowing it would convey insecurity. You were an insecure little girl, convincing yourself of the opposite.

Your need to understand him and domineer every situation was likely a defence mechanism, but he couldn't judge. Not when your little game got him right where you wanted him. Spencer had to applaud your dedication. The anticipation kept him on his toes every time he set foot on campus. He knew you wanted him to break, to make the first move, and he just might have to if he wanted to rid himself of the everlasting tension that seemed to have taken over his body.

Fine. Spencer would play your little game if that's what you wanted.

He saw you getting more confident, convinced he was falling into your trap the second he gave in. How the corners of your lips curled up ever so slightly when his gaze lingered on them. You were so caught up in your success that you failed to notice every action was premeditated on his part. It was only inevitable your eyes would light up with glee and triumph when he requested you to meet him in his office after class.

You knocked on his door tentatively, trying to slow your racing heart.

"Come in." Spencer's voice carried through the door. You turned the handle and stepped inside the dimly lit office.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Reid?" You spoke as your hand lingered on the door, a calculated move to come across as unsure. It was a complete 180 of your usual behaviour in class, but it was a surefire way to let him let you in. You were no threat.

If only you knew how true that was.

"Yes, close the door and have a seat, please." Spencer motioned to the chair across from him. You nodded and closed the door quietly before pulling the chair out and sitting down.

"I would like to discuss your paper with you if you don't mind." Spencer held up the printed copy he insisted everybody hand in. You scoffed when you read the specifications of the assignment. Figures he'd be old school.

"That's fine. Is there something wrong, Professor?" You batted your eyelashes the way you knew no man could resist. The act of the meek, helpless deer.

"There's nothing wrong with it, necessarily. I would simply like to discuss the subject matter with you. You sure picked an interesting topic." Spencer leaned against the back of his chair and interlocked his fingers as he saw you smile.

"What can I say? Your job intrigued me. Though, as I'm sure you could tell from my essay, I can't say I completely agree with the logic behind it." You gave him a small smile to let him know you weren't antagonising but stood behind your choices.

"Some critiques definitely can be taken into account. But it's been proven time and time again, with every case we solve through behavioural analysis, that the science and logic behind it work. Sure, we can be wrong, even way off. But it's a rare occasion." His eyebrows raised in challenge as he spoke. A small smile threatened to appear on his face as he awaited your answer.

You squinted at his apparent amusement. He wasn't taking you seriously. He knew he'd cracked you when your facade dropped. You looked genuinely offended at his lack of interest in your opinion. He almost wanted to laugh at how easy it turned out to be, to get you to drop the act.

"Don't look so smug, Professor. It's not a good look on you." You jabbed. You cursed at yourself. That wasn't an argument. You crossed your arms as you leaned back in the chair, never breaking eye contact.

"I must say, I'm kind of disappointed in you. You seemed to have a great grasp on the subject matter while in class, yet you failed one of the biggest requirements of the assignment."

You frowned at his words, genuinely confused. You egged him to continue talking.

"You see, the main requirement was to stay objective. This essay was anything but. I guess I misjudged you. I assumed you were above letting your personal opinions and vendettas get in the way of your academics. Apparently not." Spencer tsked. He was taunting you.

"How was my essay subjective?" You asked. The more you thought back to it, the more you realized how tainted the words on the pages in his hands were by your disdain for your attraction to him.

You hated him for making you feel the way you did, and you hadn't even realized it until now.

"I expected factual work. The only fact I can get from this essay is that you're driving yourself crazy with how much you want me to fuck you."

You gaped at his vulgar words.

Hook.

"Don't look so scandalized. You knew what you were getting into when you signed up for my class. You made your bed. Now lie in it." Spencer leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk, crossing his fingers once again.

"I think you're full of shit, Spencer Reid." You sneered.

Line.

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart. And it's Doctor or Professor. I'm not picky." He had the gall to laugh.

"Profile me then, professor. If you're so damn sure of yourself." You rolled your eyes but looked at him expectantly.

Sinker.

"Stand up, lock the door." He instructed. You did as he asked with no rebuttal. He raised from his chair and walked around the desk. You followed him closely with your eyes, unable to predict his next steps.

He placed a singular finger under your chin and lifted it to make you look up at him. "Good girl." He whispered with intent. You tried to give no outward reaction to the words, but as Spencer had come to predict, your body betrayed you. Goosebumps raced down your crossed arms, and your breathing hitched, even if only slightly.

You didn't break eye contact, to Spencer's amusement. You really should've known better.

"You want me to profile you? Sure. In your essay, you kept mentioning speculation. But, you see, it's not speculation. It's deduction. You would've known and been able to differentiate the two if you weren't so busy rubbing your thighs and biting your lips in my class." His words were accompanied by his thumb coming up to your mouth, running it over the chewed-up skin of your bottom lip.

"You want to know what else I deduced just now?" He didn't wait for your reply as he brought his face closer to yours, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"I think you like being called a good girl. But not because of the validation... No... It's the implication that turns you on." His breath scalded the delicate skin of your neck as he spoke.

You urged him to continue with your silence, breath stuck in your throat.

"You see, most girls like you like being called a good girl because they lack external male validation. They're desperate to hear those words from anyone. Not you, though... No..." Spencer laughed before continuing.

"You like it because it implies a level of authority. You love hearing it, especially from me, because it implies that I have the authority to decide for you what you are. And you wanna know what I think?" He leaned back a little to be able to look you in your wide eyes. He traced his finger over your jaw.

"I think you're a little whore. You don't want someone to validate you. You need someone to completely dominate you." He grabbed your chin forcefully. A soft whimper left your lips before you could stop it.

"Your pupils are dilated, your skin is flushed, and you're barely breathing. That's how I know I'm right. And I'm not speculating, darling." The alarmed look you gave him did nothing to deter him.

"Get on your knees." He demanded as he let go of your chin. You did so without question. You looked up at him expectantly, heart beating in your throat.

"Looks like I finally found a way to shut you up. Though, I can think of other ways. You're going to address me as 'Sir' from now on. You won't speak unless spoken to. Am I clear?"

You nodded quickly, spreading your legs to alleviate the pressure quickly building. Spencer raised an eyebrow before putting his shoe between your thighs, putting even more pressure than before.

"I asked. Am. I. Clear?"

"Yes!" You yelped. A smile that could only be described as devilish made itself apparent on your professor's face.

"Yes, what?" He asked as he pushed the point of his shoe further between your thighs.

"Yes, Sir." You all but moaned as you tried to hold yourself up, keeping your back as straight as it would allow you.

"Good girl." He said the riveting words.

You expected him to pull his pants down and force your mouth on him, but he did no such thing.

"You're gonna make yourself cum on my shoe. You better not make any noise." He instructed.

"Yes, Sir." You mumbled as you slowly started grinding against him. You felt your cheeks get redder and redder in embarrassment. You were mortified at the realization that the humiliated feeling only added to the ease of your grinding, getting wetter and wetter. Your underwear was no longer doing much to keep his shoe clean.

You looked up at Spencer, who looked unaffected. He put his hands in his pockets and sighed as if the current situation was nothing but an inconvenience to him. You slowly put your arms around his leg as you moved closer to him.

Soft whines left your mouth as you felt yourself getting closer. You'd never felt as conflicted before. So incredibly turned on, yet so embarrassed to be basically humping his leg.

Suddenly, Spencer ripped his leg away. You lost your support and fell flat on the floor in front of his feet. "That's enough."

"I thought you said I had to make myself cum, Sir?" You could hear you sounded as desperate as you probably looked.

"And I decided I'm not going to let you. Now, who said you could speak?" You quickly closed your mouth. "That's what I thought."

He gripped your upper arm harshly and hoisted you off the floor. You dared to peek at the shoe that had just now been your seat and were embarrassed to find it reflecting the light, unlike its matte counterpart.

Your legs wobbled as Spencer guided you to his desk. It was only now you realized the shutters weren't completely shut, light from the hallway shining down on your face as he pushed it down against the mahogany when he bent you over at the waist. Spencer followed your gaze.

"I guess you'll really have to be quiet, baby. My office hours start in less than an hour." You met his eyes with your own panicked ones. Anybody who did as much as try and look inside past the shutters would see you bent over his desk. He brushed your hair out of your face before flipping your skirt up and examining the sight before him.

"You soaked right through those panties of yours. Better take 'em off." He said as he hooked his fingers under them and pulled them down. You stepped out of them to the best of your ability.

Spencer picked them up, and gave them a short whiff, before walking around his desk. You didn't dare move but followed him with your eyes, confused. He looked at you as he unlocked a drawer, put them inside, and locked it again. You weren't getting those back.

He walked back around and admired the sight for a little before he unexpectantly gave your ass a harsh smack. You closed your eyes tightly as you felt yourself get wetter at the stinging sensation it left behind.

You jumped as he pushed two fingers inside without preparation. He placed his other hand on your back to push you back down against the desk. His eyes were warning you to stay still as he moved his finger expertly inside you. He brought his thumb to your clit, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from making any noise. The circumstances from before had ensured you were nearing the edge concerningly fast.

When Spencer sped up, you brought a hand to your mouth to muffle any noise. You felt your eyes tear up at the intensity of the sensation, so you squeezed them closed. Just as you were about to fall over the edge, Spencer stepped away. His weight against you was what was keeping you up. You felt your knees buckle as a desperate cry left your lips.

"Please, Spencer. Please."

He looked furious as he grabbed your shoulders, turning you around and pushing you back on the desk. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He pushed your shirt up, exposing more skin to him. He tugged your bra down, not bothering to unclasp it. He tugged roughly at your nipples, making you keen, and the tears finally spill from your eyes.

"Not so tough now, huh?" He mumbled as he undid his belt with one hand. The other was still pawing at your crudely exposed breasts. He didn't bother properly pulling his pants down, only taking his cock out of its confines. You imagined you looked downright filthy compared to how composed the man in front of you still managed to appear. There was a stain on his pants from where your crotch had met his, but other than that, he was pristine.

He gave his cock a few tugs before lining himself up, grabbing your thighs and pushing inside. You couldn't contain the guttural groan that escaped you as the strength of his thrust forced your head off the desk, hanging over the edge. He didn't care as he started pounding away, using his grip on your thighs as leverage.

You could barely breathe, the angle of your neck not allowing much air to flow. Your ears started to ring as blood pooled in your head, making you dizzy as Spencer kept his brutal pace. You tried gripping his arms to pull yourself back up before you passed out, but hardly to any avail. Spencer noticed your struggle and pulled your head back on the desk. The blood rushing back down, along with a particularly harsh thrust, had you moaning his name.

You heard his haggard breath as he continued filling you again and again. The sensation of him inside you drove you crazy, the tears from earlier still fresh on your cheeks. Low groans fell from Spencer's lips when one of his hands moved to your clit, rubbing rough circles.

Just as you'd recovered from your little upside-down stint, Spencer brought the hand still resting on your thigh up to your throat, reclaiming your ability to breathe freely. He squeezed in the exact right spot. Your hands moved to his wrist, not to get him to stop, but as leverage.

"You look so good like this, like a slut for your Professor. Crying on my cock while I decide if you get to breathe." You moaned as your nails dug harshly into his wrist. You were slowly getting lightheaded again.

"You're gonna cum on my cock when I tell you to." He spoke through the sound of skin hitting skin. His voice was strained, low moans reaching your ears.

"Yes, Sir." You struggled to get the words out.

"Good girl," Spencer said once more, giving a few more intentional thrusts deep inside you. A noise that could only be classified as a scream bubbles straight out of your chest when he hit the right spot over and over and over again. He finally released the hold on your neck.

"Cum." The demand had barely reached your ears as your vision went white. You felt his hips stutter against your own, shooting his load in tandem with your own orgasm.

He slowly pulled out and admired the sight of you still trying to recover, legs wide open, dripping with his cum on his desk.

You were on the edge of hyperventilating, all the sensations overwhelming you. Spencer slowly helped you sit up, careful to not let your privates touch the harsh wood of the desk. You let yourself fall against his chest as he held you up.

"Hey, hey. You're okay. Come on, look at me." He spoke softly, in complete contrast to just mere minutes ago. You met his eyes, which had softened tremendously.

"I'm sorry if I was too harsh on you." He quietly apologized, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks.

You shook your head. "No, no... You were right. That was exactly what I needed, I suppose. Good profiler." You chuckled emptily.

Spencer stifled a laugh as he wrapped his arms around you. "Next time, you can just ask for what you want, okay? No more of this little game."

"It was fun, though. Guess I underestimated you, Sir."

Spencer groaned at the title.

"Too soon, baby girl. Maybe clean yourself up before going there again."

You winced as you felt a trickle of his cum down your leg.

"Yeah, maybe." You grimaced. You were going to be sore for the next week.

He lifted your face to his, the action feeling a lot less domineering. His eyes were gentle as he slowly leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on your lips.

"You'll still need to rewrite that essay." He muttered as he pulled away.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, hitting his shoulder lightly before giving him a peck. "Sure thing, Professor."

PART 2

3K notes · View notes

persephonewritessometimes · 8 months

Photo

please enjoy the meme I made today while angrily trying to find one last omen

#lioden #lioblr

10 notes · View notes

persephonewritessometimes · 8 months

Text

Show Off

Aaron Hotchner x reader warnings: language, smut, daddy kink, squirting, slight exhibitionism, derogatory dirty talk and lots of it, fingering, oral, minor cum kink/play, a little bit of ass play, and lets be real there's no plot. I added some people who interacted with the last one to the tag list. just lmk if you want to be taken off.

Don’t wanna miss new content? Taglist here!

Love what you read? Tip your writer💜

When Aaron got home he found you in the kitchen, putting away dishes, half dancing around to the playlist echoing from your phone. The window was open wide, letting the fresh spring air into the house and at first he smiled, happy to be coming home to this. Then his head tilted as he took in your ensemble, tight light grey leggings that he could practically see your pussy through and when you spun to put away a couple of spatulas he became very aware you didn’t have a bra on underneath the white crop top, your nipples peaking through the fabric at him. The utensils found the way to their proper spot and you shot him a grin,

“Hey.” You caught your lower lip between your teeth as you took him in, always loving when he was dressed down, this time a dark tee and jeans.

“Hey yourself.” His hand wound around your waist and he greeted you with a kiss, his tongue instantly surging into your mouth. You let out a little giggle, turning back to the counter to finish what you were doing, “I thought you had errands to run today?”

“I did.” You replied with a shrug, putting down a stack of plates and closing the cabinet. Aaron wrapped an arm around you from behind, his hand warm on your bare midriff and his lips hit the side of your neck, “you didn’t wear this out, did you?”

“Just to the post office.” You gasped when his teeth sank into your shoulder and his free hand spanked the globe of your ass.

“So you were being a dirty little slut then?” He growled into the shell of your ear, “letting everyone out there see what’s mine?” A hand snuck under your shirt, pinching at your nipples and you couldn’t help but whine, arching into his touch, “and no panties? You just want everyone to see the shape of your pussy?” His free hand grabbed between your legs before spanking your cunt and you mewled, “get them fantasizing about how pretty it is?” He continued to palm at you through the impossibly thin fabric while his lips graced across your skin, “when you know who it belongs to, right?”

“You daddy.” You moaned, grinding down onto his hand and you could feel yourself tingling already.

“Good.” He spanked your pussy again, pulling another whimper from your lips, “then get yourself off like the useless slut you want to be today.”

His hand settled between your legs, cupping at your pussy with the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. His other hand continued to roam under your shirt, groping at your tits and rolling your nipples between his forefinger and thumb.

“Well, get going.” He urged, “I wanna see how wet you can get these pants.”

He squeezed at you, his fingers practically slipping between your pussy lips through the fabric. You let out a low moan, your head rolling back onto his shoulder as you began to grind down onto his hand. You sucked your lower lip into your mouth, biting back a moan as Aaron’s other hand continued to massage your chest, playing with your nipples. His lips traced across your skin, starting out soft, ghosting over your neck, nipping at your earlobe,

“Such a greedy little whore you are.” He husked into your ear, “I can feel you getting wet already. You’ve been thinking about this all day haven’t you?”

“Mmmhmm…” You whined, rolling your hips harder against his hand, “need you daddy.”

“Yeah?” He jeered, grinding his hand hard against you, cupping you as you let out a groan, “you’ve been so patient this week, I bet you’re absolutely aching for my cock, aren’t you? Little cock slut you are, you love it when I use you.”

“Oh fuck Aaron…”

Your eyes fluttered shut as the heat began to fire through your body, your cunt pulsing around nothing as you felt your wetness building, your breath caught in your throat when Aaron bit into your neck. He knew exactly where to make a home with his lips, the spot that made your entire body shiver when he so much as touched it. He drove you absolutely wild and he knew it.

“God look at you,” he chuckled darkly at the whines escaping your lips, how you picked up the speed of your hips, pushing back onto his hand as hard as you could, chasing your peak, “rutting like a bitch in heat.” Pleasure coursed through you, your cheeks heating as the coil got tighter and tighter within you and you rocked down faster onto his hand, your moans getting louder with each roll of your hips. “You gonna come for daddy?”

“S-so close!” You groaned and he pinched your nipple, hard, while biting into the crook of your neck again and your body shuddered before your hips stilled. Aaron laughed, lifting his hand from between your legs, turning you in his arms to get a look at the small damp spot on the fabric of your pants.

“Oh come on,” he scolded, “I know you can do better than that. Such a desperate little whore today, you should be soaking.”

Pinning you to the counter, he hoisted you up onto it, spreading your legs wide for him, bracing your feet on the edge of the counter and his hand found your clit through the damp fabric. He didn’t hold back, knowing you were still coming down from your first orgasm, rubbing furiously at it, the friction of the fabric just enough to have your legs trembling almost immediately.

“Fuck! Fuu-uck.” You moaned, your head falling back as you felt yourself pulsing, your clit throbbing under his fingers. He pushed against your harder and you were crying out as you hit your high, thighs shaking as you squirted, juices drenching the fabric.

“That’s my good little slut.” Aaron praised, pinching your clit for extra effect and you gasped, the fabric was dark with your cum, and when he moved his fingers they were slick with wetness. “Look at you, making such a fucking mess already. Open.” He brought his fingers up to your lips and you obeyed, letting him thrust them into your mouth and all you could do was moan over the taste of your juices, tongue swirling around them as you sucked them clean.

Aaron slid his fingers out of your mouth and before you could even catch your breath enough to beg for him he leant over, his mouth wrapping around your pussy through your pants. His tongue lapped at you, groaning over your taste, the vibrations causing you to rock your body forward, eager for more.

“Oh god…” You muttered, your chest beginning to heave once again.

“Think you can get off again like this?” He asked with a grin, a brow raised in a tease in your direction and you whined, hand gripping at his hair.

“Please… need you.”

He mouthed at you again, nuzzling his face between your legs, pushing harder when your hand grasped at his scalp. As much as he wanted to torture you, drag it out as long as he possibly could, he also couldn’t wait to get his mouth actually on you, to really taste you, get your juices properly smeared all over his lips. His hands reached up to the weak seam of your pants, digging into the fabric before he easily ripped them apart, tugging at the fabric until your cunt was fully exposed.

“Aaron!” You gasped out, eyes wide and he simply scoffed.

“I’ll buy you new ones.” He grunted, tugging the fabric away from your body, “ones that don’t show off this pretty pussy as much.”

Without a second thought he dove in between your legs, hands tight on your thighs to keep you spread open for him. His tongue lapped through your folds, flicking against your clit and you gasped, pleasure shooting through you at the feeling of him finally on your body without a barrier. His mouth wrapped around your pussy, sucking at one of your lower lips before moving to the other one, then pulling them both into his mouth. His tongue delved as far as it could into you, licking up as much of your arousal as he desired.

Your nails dug into his scalp, practically every breath you exhaled was accompanied by a moan, your skin prickling with desire. With every stroke of his tongue his nose bumped against your clit and you couldn’t help but rock your hips toward his face, panting harder with each thrust. While he was incredibly talented with his mouth and every ministration was pulling more pleasure to your core, it simply was not enough right now.

“Please… please daddy…” you panted, “need you to make me come.” He growled into your pussy and you gasped at the sensation the vibrations sent rocking through you, “more.” You whined, “please, please…fuck! Please.”

Knowing exactly what you wanted, Aaron shifted his mouth upwards, lips wrapping around your throbbing clit and two fingers easily slid into your dripping cunt. The tip of his tongue traced around the swollen nub, flicking at it slowly at first, picking up the speed and pressure as your whines increased. He matched the pace with his fingers, fucking them skillfully into you, twisting them around, twirling them so they hit every inch of your inner walls. He sucked particularly hard on your clit, fingers curling just right and you moaned even louder.

“Oh god! Fuck!” Your hand shot from his head to sneak under your shirt, groping at your chest, pinching at your nipples, “just like that! Fuck…” your eyes scrunched shut as the pleasure got hotter and hotter, your skin covered in a sheen of sweat, “gonna make me come!”

Aaron increased the pressure of his mouth, tongue flicking at your clit even faster and his fingers curled up again, rather than just thrusting he kept them rather still so he could rub back and fourth over the sensitive spot inside your throbbing pussy. You clenched down around him, your juices coating his hand and he knew you were close, your thighs shaking around him. He groaned against you and you shuddered, pussy pulsing around his fingers, squeezing him so tight you almost forced him out as you moaned loudly, your hips rocking up to push against his mouth while your orgasm washed over you. You felt the gush of wetness, gasping as your body shuddered once more and Aaron chuckled, your juices leaking down his arm, droplets already dripping onto the floor between you. He always took pride in being able to make you squirt and with the track record he had going today he certainly wasn’t going to stop there. As he pulled his fingers from your drenched cunt his tongue lapped up as much of your cum as he could, teeth sinking into the skin of your thigh.

“Such a messy little thing you are.” He growled as he stood from between your legs, “you like that? Making a mess of everything?” He cocked a brow in your direction and all you could do was attempt to catch your breath. “Answer me.” He demanded, his hand suddenly spanking your pussy, your clit throbbing when he did so.

“Fuck!” You yelped, nearly whimpering at the dark look in his eyes, “yes daddy. Love when you make me squirt.”

“That’s what I thought.” He spanked you again before his hands gripped the waistband of your ruined leggings, tugging them down your legs and tossing them in the direction of the garbage. “Keep those legs spread.” His hands roughly shoved your thighs back open, pushing you back on the counter, “little sluts don’t get to decide when they’re done and I’m definitely not finished.”

You let out a little whimper, your lip nearly quivering as you looked at him and he chuckled darkly, a smirk on his lips while he tugged your crop top over your head, leaving you bare before him. Somehow that turned you on even more, being completely naked while he was still fully clothed, in the middle of the kitchen as he had his way with you. It was almost like he could sense it, catching the way your cheeks flushed, the way you practically pouted up at him and his lips split into a grin as he grabbed your chin.

“Quite the exhibitionist aren’t you? I should just fuck you on the front step next time, let everyone on the block know how much of a fucking slut you are. But you’d probably like that too much, wouldn’t you? You’d just fucking love to show off, let everyone see your tight little cunt dripping with cum.”

He dropped your chin, taking a small step back as he surveyed you before his hand wound back and then came down hard on your pussy. You let out a quiet yelp, your body shivering at the painful pleasure surging through you.

“Whose pussy is this?” He growled.

“Yours!” You whined back, your clit already throbbing when Aaron spanked it again.

“And who makes you feel this good?”

“You do daddy.” You whimpered.

“Are you a dirty little whore?” Spank. “A needy little thing?” Spank. “A pathetic little slut?” Spank. “Answer me.” Spank. “What are you?” Spank. “Say it!” Spank. Each hit a little harder than the last, his fingers coming away a little more wet and sticky each time as your arousal built back up.

“I’m a dirty whore.” You whined out, your breath caught in your throat as he spanked your pussy again.

“That’s right.” He cooed.

“I need you daddy. Can’t come without you.”

“So what are you?” He asked, spanking you once again and you whimpered.

“I’m a pathetic little slut.”

“That’s right.” Spank. “You are. Going out dressed like that. Only I’m allowed to see you like this.” Spank. “Only I’m allowed to touch you. Understood?” Spank.

“Yes daddy.” You cried out, your pussy was absolutely throbbing. Pulsing around nothing as you ached for him to do something more, juices leaking down your legs you were so turned on you could barely focus.

“Good girl.” He praised with one last spank, this one directly on your clit and you shuddered, letting out a low moan.

Aaron stepped toward you and you braced yourself for another spank but instead he shoved thee fingers into your pussy and you let out a satisfied groan. He filled you so perfectly, fingers fucking into you, curling right where you needed them, stretching you out so wonderfully your eyes fluttered shut. He thrusted them into you, flicking them out every so often, pulling your wetness out with him as he did so, watching the droplets hit the floor. “God you’re such a pathetic slut, just a hole for me to use.”

“I am daddy!” You begged, “just for you. Only for you. Need your cock. Please!” Your whining became more insistent as the pleasure built up inside you again, feeling stuffed with his fingers moving faster and harder with each breath you let out. His free hand reached up, wrapping around your throat and after only two squeezes of his hand you were coming again, pussy juices drenching his hand as you shook in his arms.

“Yeah?” He raised a brow, releasing your throat, “you want me to fill you up? Stretch out that tight pussy with my thick cock?”

“Mmmhmm.” You nodded, panting, body still twitching as your nerves fired off pleasure through your limbs.

Aaron grabbed your hips, yanking you off the counter and flipping you over, bending you over it. He grabbed one of your legs, bending it and raising it up onto the counter, spreading your pussy open for him. He let out a low groan at how you glistened in the sunlight, just absolutely drenched and fluttering for him already. He was straining against his pants, hard and throbbing when he undid his belt, pulling his cock out. He pumped it a few times, smearing the bead of pre-cum across his length.

“You’re gonna take it like a good slut, right?” He asked, rubbing his cock against your folds and you nodded, a gasp leaving your lips when he rubbed the tip through you, teasing you, coating him in your juices. “That’s what I thought.”

With one swift thrust of his hips he buried his cock into you, letting out a grunt at how tight you were, how good you felt around him. His hand pressed against your lower back, keeping you pinned to the counter as he set a brutal pace, cock plunging into you fully with each thrust of his hips. It didn’t take long before you were a whimpering mess, barely able to make out words as he fucked you into oblivion. His hand tangled into your hair, yanking your chest up and his cock managed to hit even deeper within you.

“Oh god…” you moaned, pussy clamping down around him, “feels… s- soo good.”

His free hand cracked down on the globe of your ass and you whimpered, “louder! I want the whole street to know who you belong to.”

“Fuck! Daddy!” This one was louder, “oh god, don’t stop!”

“Who owns this tight little cunt?” His breathing was starting to get laboured, feeling you squeeze around him, the squelching sounds coming from you enough to make him twitch and throb already.

“You do daddy!” You cried out, “this pussy’s all yours.” You could barely keep your eyes open, the feeling of his body on yours, his cock stretching you out perfectly, you could feel every ridge and vein. Your entire body was on fucking fire already.

“Who makes you feel this fucking good? Hmm?”

“Oh fuck! Aaron!” There was no holding it back anymore and you honestly didn’t care who heard, the man was making you see stars. “make me feel so good. Love your cock.”

“Gonna fuck you stupid.” He grunted, thrusting harder into you, watching the way you were starting to shake. He spit onto your ass, letting the saliva drip down to your tight hole before his thumb began to circle it and you let out a moan. He eased his thumb into it and your moans got louder, pussy clenching down around his cock.

“Oh fuuckk..” It was guttural, deep in the back of your throat and he just knew the effect he was having on you right now, hips snapping into yours sharper and faster with each thrust.

“You like that?” He teased, his thumb fully seated, “want me to fuck your ass too? Let my cum leak out of all your holes?”

“Yes!” You cried out, “oh god yes daddy! Fill me up, please!”

“Little cum slut.” His word were accented with a particularly harsh thrust and you yelped, your body falling back down onto the counter. You whimpered out, each thrust of his cock pulled a louder whine from you, your hands clawing at the counter, your pussy pulsing again and again, squeezing around Aaron tighter and tighter.

“I’m gonn—gon come.” You choked out, fire shooting through your body and Aaron spanked your ass with his free hand before it wrapped around your hip, finding your clit and starting to rub.

“Want you to squirt for me again, come on my cock like the whore you are.” His fingers were already covered in your slick, “let everyone hear how pretty you sound when you come.”

“Harder.” You choked out and the next thrust sent your hips pushing into the counter sharply, his fingers pressed heavier against your pulsing nub, your cunt clenching around him as he throbbed inside you. “Oh god daddy. Fuck! FUCK!”

With one final cry you were shaking between his body and the counter, thighs trembling as your pussy squeezed so tightly around him he let out a loud swear. His thumb slipped out of your ass so he could grab your hips, bracing himself to chase his own peak, pulling you back onto his cock harder with each thrust. The point where your bodies met was soaked, juices and sweat coating both of you, it was only a matter of minutes, listening to you whimper, feeling you flutter around his length in aftershocks before he let out a loud grunt and his hips stilled. You moaned in satisfaction at the feeling of his cum painting your walls, the way his cock pulsed inside you. He squeezed at his cock, making sure you’d gotten every last drop before he pulled out.

“Such a good little slut.” He purred, his fingers moving between your legs, scooping up the mixture of cum and shoving it back into you.

You gasped, your back arching up, sensitive from the multiple orgasms he’d pulled from you already. You couldn’t help but shudder as he fucked his cum back deep inside you. It was only once he was satisfied and had caught his own breath that his fingers left you, his clean hand soothing up and down your back and he gently nudged your stiff leg off the counter, pulling you up into his arms, your back flush to his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you.

“Holy fuck Aaron.” You groaned; your throat nearly hoarse and he chuckled, kissing the side of your head.

“You alright there sweetheart?”

“Fucking perfect.”

“Good.” He turned you in his arms, smiling down at you before he leant down to kiss you softly, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb stroking at your skin. “Quite the mess….” He teased, glancing down and you laughed.

“Remind me to mop the floor tomorrow.”

“I mean, I did cause it, I’ll do it.” He offered with a grin and you laughed again, popping up on your toes to kiss him again.

“You’re too good to me.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” He shot you a sheepish grin and you cocked a brow at him, your head tilting in confusion, “when I came home Mrs. Henderson was out gardening.” His eyes flicked toward the very open window that faced the neighbours yard and you gasped, swatting at his chest.

“Aaron!” You scolded, “well now we are definitely skipping the next block party.”

“If fucking you stupid is all I have to do to get out of those, then you can guarantee it happening every time.” He smirked and you laughed, shaking your head at him.

“I’m not gonna argue that.” You murmured, lips curving up into a grin as he kissed you again.

“Now how about we get you into a nice bath? Hmm?”

“I’d love that.”

________________________

@unsubologyy @alexusonfire @svushots @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @emobabeyy @daddy-heather-dunbar @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs @mina2000alex @telepathay @darlingsfandom @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat @hopedoesntknow @thehauntingofbasingse @plaidbooks

2K notes · View notes

persephonewritessometimes · 8 months

Note

yeahhhhhhhhhhhh

i have a request!! step dad hotch jealous🙏🏻

Dream A Little Dream Of Me

A/N: I don't know if you wanted smut, but that's what happened...

MINORS DNI

Pairing: Stepdad!Hotch x Fem!Reader

Warnings: jealous HOTch, age gap, forbidden romance, smut, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, implied praise kink, implied sir kink if you squint, etc. (lmk if I missed anything)

Word count: 3.7k

You were not entirely certain whether this was a dream.

You didn’t know how you had ended up pushed against the back of this precise stall door, at this elegant restaurant that enforced a formal dress code.

You didn’t even know how you had ended up with your stepdad’s firm thigh between your legs.

You couldn’t explain how you had found yourself grinding down on it like there wasn’t the slightest chance you’d leave a trail of your evident arousal on his dark slacks.

What you did know was that you were approximately 30 steps away from your table, where your mom and your boyfriend were undoubtedly still discussing historical marvels.

You were about 20 seconds away from the spot where your boyfriend had absentmindedly caressed your thigh beneath the table while he continued to bore you to death with the specifics of fossilization processes.

You had excused yourself from the table, your boyfriend had squeezed your hand lightly before you had headed towards the bathroom.

You had to devote your focus to something other than the other tablemate there who had also remained mute while your mom and your boyfriend chatted the night away.

It was all in vain because it had taken Aaron roughly thirty seconds to join you, and about two more seconds for him to lock the door behind him.

You had managed to stare at him perplexed for a few seconds before he had pulled you into a stall, and before you could question the whole thing, Aaron had cupped your cheeks into his hands, muttered “fuck it” under his breath, and pinned you against the door.

His lips had crashed onto yours forcefully, the scorching kiss tipping your entire world on its axis. You had clutched the lapels of his expensive jacket to cling on to something as his delightful lips rattled your foundations enough to make your knees buckle.

And somehow, you were still baffled as to how you had gotten here.

It was a sloppy kiss at best, urgent and forbidden, nevertheless, it was phenomenal. There was an awkward clash of teeth and tongues performing the type of waltz you recognized required two outstanding but enthusiastic performing artists, but despite the lack of rehearsal, this choreography was breathtakingly glorious.

If Aaron didn’t let on soon, your lips would become puffy and red in no time. His mouth was unforgiving as it battled with yours, his teeth nipping at your lower lip right before his tongue gently brushed yours.

He tasted like the fancy scotch he’d been sipping, and when he hummed contentedly inside your mouth, as your tongues met and fought, your whole body tensed with pleasure.

You could feel adrenaline positively course through your veins the more he kissed you, the more you kissed him back.

There were a thousand reasons not to do this, and yet, none of them were good enough. There wasn’t a single reason that compared or measured up to the thrill and elation this kiss provided you. Finally kissing Aaron was akin to drowning in a sea of euphoric bliss, and you were strongly opposed to being rescued.

He sucked on your tongue, and a gruff howl resounded as you reciprocated, mercifully confined within both of your mouths.

The low sound shocked you both, and Aaron pulled away.

He didn’t look nervous or uncomfortable, and you breathed a little easier when you realized he was just trying to catch his breath.

You offered him a sympathetic smile, and Aaron cursed and kissed your cheeks before he nestled his nose in the crook of your neck.

His chest was heaving, his rough and soft edges meeting yours as he struggled to draw in a full breath. You shivered as he panted, his warm breath fanning over your neck.

You kissed his temple, a softer moment in the midst of this chaos, and immediately, his mouth was rightfully reattached to yours.

This kiss was smoother, and you purred and surged forward as his wandering hands caressed your back and your ass, a rush of raw desire consuming you as you mewled his name when he squeezed your butt.

You’d craved this for so long, and here he was, swirling his tongue around your mouth and tracing every ridge with the tip of his tongue as if he intended to draw this from memory once it was over.

As his chest heaved and pressed against yours, Aaron stopped kissing you and glanced at your eyes in quick succession.

You were aware this was a silent check-in, and to reassure him that you wanted him just as much as he seemed to want you, you grabbed his ass and squeezed.

There was practically nothing beautiful about this whole thing, yet his dazzling smile and sparkling eyes succeeded to create the most exquisite picture you’d ever seen.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss again, and the dull throb in your lower abdomen rapidly became too overwhelming to ignore. With his thigh tightly wedged between your legs, you couldn't help but continuously shove your pussy down onto it, rolling your hips to try and relieve some pressure.

Your frenzied thrashing was unsustainable, yet you had to try and lessen the discomfort for a moment.

Luckily, Aaron facilitated your movements when you slowed down, his hands gripping your waist to guide your frantic writhing.

You truly wondered how you had ended up chasing your peak on his flexing quadriceps, but the fluttering in your cunt halted all other thoughts, especially when Aaron seized your ass and hoisted you up. Your legs instinctively encircled his waist, and you buried your hands into his hair as he assaulted your neck with his teeth.

He gasped when you scratched his scalp, his shudder almost violent as his clothed erection collided with your core.

Actually, if you were perfectly honest, you knew exactly how you had ended up here. This had been months in the making. A few months of lingering looks, another few months of sometimes delicate and friendly touches, and then a few more months of friendship that always seemed to be more.

You spared a thought for the two people at the table, the two people you were hurting by engaging in this. But then Aaron sucked another bruise on your neck and you accepted that you were incapable of stopping this.

Regardless of the repercussions, you wanted him and you wanted this. But even if you doubted your boyfriend and your mom would come looking for you, you still had to be quick and efficient considering the circumstances.

People were bound to complain if they wanted to use the facilities since the door was locked, and while the stall offered some privacy in the event that someone did enter, you were still behaving recklessly on every front.

You would have to be quick, as much as you wanted to savor this.

Aaron unexpectedly let you down and he backed away, turning to put the lid down before he sat on top of it and gestured for you to get onto his lap. You lifted your dress up enough for it to have it sit comfortably around your waist, exposing your lace panties to your stepdad right before you lowered yourself onto his lap.

Aaron kissed you like a starved man again within seconds, and he kissed you as if your lips were the only meal he’d ever care about. It was hungry, unrehearsed, and far from coordinated. But it was also the first time someone had managed to make your limbs tremble because of a kiss. It was the first time you were experiencing a trail of goosebumps running up your spine as someone’s fingers grazed your skin.

He traced your jawline with his lips before he carefully planted kisses on your throat and shoulders, suckling on your pulse point before he nibbled at that spot below your ears.

He was lighting you up from the inside out, sweltering heat scorching your veins with desire. You attempted to press down on his erection a little more, but his fingers dug into your hips, clawing at your clothed skin and surely leaving bruises there from the strength with which he kept you in place.

“You deserve so much better than that boy, sweetheart. You know that, right?” he growled.

You knew Aaron didn’t like your boyfriend. He had been quite vocal about it, too. But you had used that poor guy because you wondered whether you could make Aaron tick, whether you could make him lose it. You had manipulated him to see whether Aaron would give in.

Who, consequently, truly deserved better?

“Aaron–” you started.

He bit your lip, drawing a bit of blood before he kissed you forcefully again. The familiar metallic taste was faint but present on his tongue as his lips lingered on yours, and his hands on your waist barred you from rolling your hips on top of him. You whimpered as he bit your throat, his digits more convincingly imprinting their mark on your hips the more you tried to writhe on top of him.

“You deserve to be worshipped,” he grumbled against your neck.

You nodded eagerly, too desperate for him to touch you where you needed it.

“Do you want me to try? Do you want me to show you?” he breathed.

“Yes,” you replied shakily. He could have said he wanted to kill you, and you would have offered him a gun and a shovel if it meant he would finally touch you.

“Do you, really?” he asked with a smug grin adorning his features.

“Yes. Please,” you whined.

“Tell me first… Does that boy make you beg? Can he even make you come?” he seethed. He licked the blood off your bottom lip before he sank his teeth into your shoulder with a groan.

He was somehow admitting he was jealous. It was a success. He had followed you in here because he was so consumed by lust and jealousy that he had stopped caring about right or wrong. Your plan, as twisted and morally wrong as it was, had worked.

You yelped as his teeth gnawed at the skin of your neck and shoulders, the pain mind-numbing but perfect.

You didn't even care that he was branding you for everyone to see. If you left this stall laden with purple bruises, covered with traces he had painted on your flesh, you wouldn’t care. You couldn’t care because you’d get to relive this for days.

You moaned as he suckled on the column of your throat, knowing full well your skin would be decorated with hickeys. He licked your bruises, planting tender kisses before he tasted your skin again, and you were unable to refrain from pulling his hair as he consumed you.

“Oh, god, Aaron.”

It made your head spin to think that although everyone would know you were someone's, only Aaron and you would know you were his, or at least that you had been for a little while.

You’d have to break up with your boyfriend before he could discover the bruises, and you’d have to avoid your mom for a few weeks after this, but fuck, if this was anything to go by, it was entirely worth it.

You felt Aaron’s hand in your hair before he tugged on it, his pupils fully blown as you met his stern gaze.

“Answer me,” he warned.

“He’s– No. Fuck…” you stammered.

Aaron flashed you a cocky smile. “I figured.”

Aaron’s fingers grazed your inner thighs, and you noticed your panties were already ruined. You were drenched, the fabric as wet as you were. If you weren’t careful, Aaron’s pants would be glistening with your juices soon.

He pulled your panties to the side, exposing your cunt. He beamed at you, making your breath hitch in your throat. He was so close and yet so far.

You were about ready to beg.

“Last chance to change your mind, sweetheart.”

You glared at him, grabbing his hand and shoving your pussy into it. “For crying out loud, just fucking touch me.”

He chuckled, his fingers caressing your wet folds so delicately that you were about to let out a string of expletives.

“Mmm… I guess we’ll have to teach you how to ask nicely, but I’ll let it slide this time,” he crooned, letting two fingers slide between your folds.

You hummed as he coaxed more slick out of you to coat his digits, and Aaron smiled at you as you sought to find more friction on his fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut as he arched his fingers inside you, his thumb barely touching your clit but enough to make your head roll back in ecstasy, pleasure simply blinding you.

“Look at me or I’ll stop,” he asserted.

You nodded and braced yourself on his chest right as your body jerked violently, his fingers stimulating your g-spot with precision.

Maintaining eye contact was challenging, but you managed it. As Aaron's fingers repeatedly glided in and out of your body, you felt the coil in your stomach simultaneously tighten and release. Your climax struck you like lightning, but Aaron didn't stop, he merely slowed his onslaught.

His hand was soaked with your cum as he trapped your gentle screams inside his mouth, and your body went slack, failing to respond in kind.

Aaron proceeded to wrap his other hand around your throat, your legs quivering the more he worked, and he just smiled confidently as you held his gaze.

“That’s it. Good girl. Keep looking at me.”

His damn voice.

His damn fingers.

You wept because of how fantastic it felt to be lost in subspace, surrounded by all that he was. It was astounding to feel him strong and real underneath you, and this time, soon after the first one, you unintentionally and uncontrollably lost it, only aware you had orgasmed when you saw stars and when you felt a spurt of wetness pool out of you.

Aaron didn’t stop, though.

“We need another one, don’t we?” he cooed.

Tears welled up in your eyes some more as oversensitivity made it difficult for you to love this sweet agony, and the pleasure was so intense you weren’t sure your body could handle it anymore.

You whined, looking away.

His hand softly pressed around your throat, a gentle reminder to look at him. “Sweetheart, tell me how you will ever take my cock if you can’t even handle my fingers.”

He was right. Judging by the tent in his pants, you would need more than two fingers to accommodate him. And you wanted his cock more than anything else right now.

“More,” you pleaded.

He added another finger, and it was bordering on too much. You squirmed, adjusting to the stretch and sensitivity, doing your best to breathe through it.

He averted his gaze to look down at your pussy, and you looked down to watch his fingers disappear inside you. His digits were coated with your juices, and the stretch was pleasantly painful within seconds.

You purred, and Aaron looked up again.

You smiled at him, enjoying how he was so deliciously taking you apart.

“Look at you. So perfect,” he whispered.

You felt your climax start when pleasure tingled your extremities, the bliss about to rush through your veins and envelop you.

“I’m–”

He silenced you with a gentle kiss before you could say anything, and he moved his hand from around your throat to cradle your face.

“Aren’t you a precious little thing?” he muttered.

Your vision blacked out right as you felt your pussy clench and flutter, and this time, when you came, you felt ridiculously empty. You giggled when you realized your cum was undoubtedly on his pants, and you vowed to offer him a dry-cleaning certificate in the next few days.

“Please… Just fuck me,” you whimpered.

Nothing was more important to you than to feel him. He was hot and heavy underneath you, and you could feel through his trousers that he was large and throbbing. You yearned to feel him bury his dick deep inside of you. You had to experience how his hot seed would paint your inner walls.

“Oh, sweetheart… We don’t have enough time,” he said apologetically.

He brought his hand towards his mouth, his tongue lapping at your juices before your eyes. “You are so delicious. It’s a shame we don’t have more time.”

You understood, though.

You got up, and you beamed at him when you saw his pants sparkling with your cum. You let your eyes wander on his slacks, and you licked your lips when you saw how he was straining the seam of his pants, the big bulge arousing you beyond measure.

“You should freshen up. I’ll take care of this,” he explained, gesturing to his erection. “It won’t take long, I’m close,” he added, his voice shaky and breathy.

You pouted. “I want to help.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “I guess you can watch.”

“Thank you.”

He palmed himself through his pants, pointing at the floor in front of him. “On your knees, sweetheart,” he groaned.

You got down on your knees in front of him, aware time was of the essence. He unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants and boxers down around his knees.

Your eyes went wide as you took in his size, but you were too mesmerized by how absolutely perfect he looked to wonder whether you’d ever be able to have that inside you.

He was twitching, his thighs quivering, and the major vein was pulsating. Aaron wasn’t lying. He was close. The head even glistened with copious amounts of pre-cum, and if you had more time, you would have made sure to worship him, too.

He offered you his left hand, he quirked his eyebrows and he tilted his head to the side. “Spit.”

You spat in his hand and you let your hands roam over his thighs, caressing the coarse hair delicately.

A deep guttural groan resonated around the stall, and as he began to jerk off, you pondered whether he’d let you do a little more than just watch.

You didn’t care.

You leaned down, kissing his inner thighs as he worked his hand up and down his shaft.

His moans filled your ears, and you smiled against his skin.

You bit his thighs, opting to mark him as he had marked you, looking up at him as you branded him. He looked you directly in the eye, his jaw slack from pleasure and his lips parted, making way for his ragged breathing to scorch your face.

His neck was flushed and sweat gathered on his forehead. He looked magnificent and you smiled at him, making him surge forward.

“Open up,” he croaked.

He slipped easily in when you opened wide, pulsing almost instantly as he hit the back of your throat and your nose grazed his pubic bone, thus allowing you to swallow his load without much difficulty. His bitter-and-sweet cum coated your tongue, and you reveled in the fact that you both knew what the other tasted like.

You caught everything and you sucked a bit at the tip to milk more out of him. He hissed and groaned, his dick twitching violently as his hand tightened in your hair. You proceeded to lick him clean and you moaned around him because you had always enjoyed this part. Whatever people said, it was intimate and empowering to do this for a man.

Aaron pulled your mouth away and he leaned down to kiss you, the taste of his load still present on your tongue, but that didn’t seem to faze him.

“My good girl,” he praised.

You kissed for a few seconds before you got out of the stall. Aaron helped you straighten and readjust your dress, and you fixed his shirt and bow tie before you walked up to the huge mirror.

You wondered whether you’d recognize the person looking back at you, but reassurance encircled you before you could question your actions.

You locked eyes in the mirror.

You looked good together. There was no denying it.

“Break up with that boy. You don’t need him anymore.”

You furrowed your brow, and Aaron planted a small kiss on your bare shoulder, right where he had left bite marks.

“Sorry?”

Aaron kissed your neck softly before he met your gaze in the mirror again. “It worked. You have me.” He paused, his arms tightening around your waist. “Break up with him. No one touches you except me. Are we clear?” he growled.

You didn’t know how he figured it out, but you weren’t too surprised. He was the most brilliant man you’d ever met after all.

“Yes, sir,” you replied with a flirtatious smile.

Something dark flashed behind his eyes at that, and you couldn’t wait to explore it if he let you.

Aaron let you go, and you unlocked the door and were about to exit the bathroom when he brought you back in by the waist.

“I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well. You can’t go back. I was…” he paused, giving you a cursory look, “very thorough.”

You were a work of art as far as you were concerned. You had seen it in the mirror, your body was covered in bruises he had put there.

You were his. For a few minutes, you had been his. And truth be told, you’d be his once you left this room, too.

You were about to ask what this meant, but you couldn’t talk about it here. You needed to leave this bathroom before someone pried it open or called the cops.

Aaron cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing your velvety skin delicately. “I know where your apartment in the city is. Wait for me there.”

“But–”

He put his thumb over your lips, beaming at you with affection. “I’ll take care of everything. Just wait for me.”

You nodded, looking down. “Okay.”

Without peeking back, you left the bathroom. When you were certain no one was looking, you left the restaurant through the side entrance and beelined for your car.

You headed back to your apartment, and your mind swam in a sea of possibilities.

You weren’t entirely sure how you had gotten here, and you didn’t know where you’d be going from there, but one thing was certain, if you were dreaming, you didn’t want to wake up.

696 notes · View notes

persephonewritessometimes · 10 months

Text

Presents

Moments, Chapter 23 (but you can read this as a one shot!)

Read the rest of the fic on AO3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!Reader

Words: 15.1k

CW: 18+, NSFW, mdni, like an ungodly amount of smut.

Summary: Aaron surprises you for your birthday and you return the favor for Father’s Day.

Tags/warnings: established (secret) romantic relationship, established D/s relationship, sir and daddy kinks, pet names (princess, baby, angel, good girl), unprotected piv smut (wrap it before you tap it or at least make sure you talk it over with your partner and get tested!), oral (m and f receiving), fingering, power play, exhibitionism, sex toys, sex club shenanigans, breeding kink, two horny idiots in love, and many more specific things that I probably forgot about.

a/n: crossposting because I fucking need everyone to read the fruits of my labor. if you haven’t already, make sure to read Moments on AO3! love ya.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

Your stomach was in pain, so much pain in fact that you had to hold your hand out, asking for mercy.

You couldn’t even remember why you were laughing this hard, it had all sort of snowballed the more Derek and Penelope riffed off each other, adding onto the original joke that had long been forgotten. Your laugh filled the backyard in the same warmth as the little fairy lights that Dave had strung about (well, that his gardener had, you were sure).

Aaron knew he was staring, but it was physically impossible not to. He kept telling himself that it was okay, that he could allow himself to indulge since you were clearly driving all of the attention to yourself, everyone else’s eyes trained on you as well. But he couldn’t help but be hyper aware that he was doing it too.

He was like a moth to a flame, a stupid, whipped moth that was clearly beaming just as brightly as you were when he knew he shouldn’t have. It was pride, a blaring and all encompassing emotion that had led him here, that he was now desperately trying to hide. He had never been more proud of getting to call you his, of getting to experience your radiance, of getting to be engulfed by your light. Even if the people around you didn’t know about it yet, even if he couldn’t walk over and sit down next to you and swing his arm over your shoulder, even if he couldn’t kiss you in front of all of your closest friends.

He’d been wondering about it for months now, why neither of you had explicitly said you didn’t want to share your relationship. Now that Jack knew, you were still tied to this idea that you had to keep it a secret from them but what he couldn’t figure out was why. He knew the bet was still going, knew that, to some extent, they were all aware that you were back together which meant the rules must’ve changed. They weren’t subtle about it either, constantly making comments and jokes whenever your name was mentioned or you walked into or left a room and his eyes accidentally lingered on you for a millisecond too long.

He didn’t even realize he’d been lingering at the edge of the door, whiskey in hand, alone until yours and Jack’s voices filled the air, bringing him back down to earth.

“Dad!” the two of you screamed, the boy draped over your lap, clearly impatient, you, with a wild glint in your eyes, one that could’ve easily killed him right then and there.

“Come on, we’re opening presents!” you told him as everyone around you settled, biting down on their remarks and smirks. Jessica slipped beside Jack, tickling the boy to get him off your lap to give you some room. It was as though the team were adamant on sitting anywhere but right beside you, leaving that spot open just for him. Maybe he was right, maybe you didn’t have to tell them something that they already knew, maybe he could just be and that would be enough. It clearly was for you.

You had all gathered at Dave’s for your birthday, the only people who couldn’t make it being Blake and her husband since they had gone out to see their kids for the weekend. Dave had insisted on treating you to the works, fresh pasta, top shelf liquor, various certificates and gift cards for luxury experiences that you couldn’t wait to cash in. One by one they had all given you their presents, and now it was Aaron’s turn to give you his. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, the dumb bet they’d all put forth only a few minutes ago, one that you had overheard accidentally, taking over everything in that moment.

However, your real present, or rather, presents, had been gifted to you the day before. Your birthday fell on a Saturday, so you’d started bright and early with Aaron’s face between your legs. That’s how he’d woken you up, with his rough, bearded mouth sloppily dragging through your folds. He’d allowed the beard to grow just for this occasion. He still didn’t quite get why you found him so attractive like this, but the way that you had been salivating for the past week was enough indication that he’d made the right choice. The sun wasn’t even up but he was, knowing that you’d get no time alone until you dropped Jack off at Jessica’s in the evening so that he could take you out to dinner.

You were dreaming about something naughty when your body began to feel unbearably hot. The pleasure you were imagining started feeling too real, the sensations reverberating through your body in steady waves, your core clenching instinctively. It wasn’t until he nipped at your clit, his teeth biting down on the sensitive bud that your eyes shot open.

“Fuck,” you moaned as he chuckled against your core. Your shaky hand ripped the duvet off your body, revealing your boyfriend nestled between your legs. His eyes met yours and you practically melted. His pupils were dilated, the lower half of his face glistened in the low light of the room, his hands were warm and digging into your hips.

His tongue lapped over your folds, messily kissing down towards your entrance. You let out another low moan, knowing you had to stay quiet since Jack was sleeping down the hall. Your hand shot out to steady itself in his hair, your nails perfectly digging into his scalp in response to his movements. The other shot up to your mouth and you bit down on it to stop you from unraveling further.

His eyes never once left yours as he continued his precise movements. At this point in your relationship, almost six months back in he knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what to do, how to move, where to move, how to read you by simply staring deep into your soul. You didn’t even have to ask him, didn’t even have to cue him in with your body language for him to know what you wanted, what you needed. His tongue slid back up to your clit as he scooted further up against you, his hand sliding off your leg and towards your entrance.

He wasted no time thrusting two of his fingers inside of you, sucking on your clit harder as he watched your face contort, your own teeth sinking further into your hand to muffle the scream that had erupted from your throat. His pace was relentless, unforgiving, frantic. Fingers slid in and out of you rhythmically as he curled them upwards, hitting the spot that had you seeing stars every single time. Your hips began to move on their own, meeting his thrusts greedily. And for the first time ever he didn’t stop you, instead he egged you on, pressing his warm mouth further against your skin. It was your birthday after all, and if he was to die suffocated just to start your morning off like he knew you deserved, then so be it.

You were so close, so unbelievably close and he knew it too. He released his lips from your clit then, propping himself up on his other arm so he could watch you come undone comfortably. His fingers slammed inside of you forcefully and instead of continuing his pace, he simply kept them buried inside of you, curling and curling and curling. A smirk plastered all over his face, satisfied, ecstatic, almost cocky as he watched the tears that had pooled in your eyes fall down your cheeks.

“Cum for me, angel,” and cum you fucking did. The tightness in your stomach snapped in an instant, wetness gushing from your core and down your legs. He’d been trying to make you squirt for weeks now, and while it wasn’t actually that, yet, you certainly made a mess of the sheets. His fingers continued to lazily pump in and out of you as he seemed almost mesmerized by the gushing that had come out of you. He only removed his fingers when your breathing had subsided and you thought you were in the clear as you removed your teeth imprinted hand out of your mouth.

But then his tongue was on you again. As if he hadn’t just devoured you, his tongue lapped up every last drop of your cum like a man that had wandered the desert and needed to quench his thirst. You whined loudly, both of your hands coming up to cover your mouth as you allowed him to finish his job. His job of cleaning you up, his job of getting to taste everything you’d given him, his job of loving you so much that it was physically uncomfortable in the most delicious way possible.

“Happy birthday, princess,” he purred after he’d licked every inch of skin. He began to climb up your body as his swollen lips left a trail of kisses on your hot skin. He fit perfectly between your legs, perfectly against your chest, he was perfect. Your hands finally released your mouth as he came face to face with you, nothing but adoration on his features. You blushed crimson then, refusing to waiver under his overpowering stare but still not being able to stop your body from reacting so viscerally every time he looked at you like you were everything.

“Thank you, daddy,” you replied hoarsely and he chuckled, his lips so close to yours you could practically smell yourself on him. “Can I please have a kiss?”

Your voice was so small it took him a second to register the words you’d spoken. You’d been getting more and more comfortable allowing yourself to slip, to let him take care of you, to trust him with not just your body but also your mind. And he’d be damned if he didn’t eat it up every time you allowed him.

“Baby, if I ever deny you kisses, have me committed,” he laughed before pressing his lips on yours so softly it almost made you lose it. You hummed into the kiss, greedily opening your mouth for him to shove his tongue down your throat and he was more than happy to oblige. The sun had just started to come out, the minutes literally ticking away before Jack would inevitably wake up and run into your room to wake his dad up to go make you the birthday breakfast surprise he’d been planning for the past week. But it didn’t matter. He’d made sure to lock the door last night just so that you wouldn’t get interrupted, at least not until he was ready to let you go.

The kiss was lazy and sloppy, tongues dancing together in what he could only describe as animalistic need as your hands roamed the expanse of his naked back. He’d gotten home late last night, meaning that he couldn’t fuck you to sleep like he’d wanted since you had fallen asleep waiting for him to get back. He wanted to be angry about it, about the wasted time. But at least he had made it back home for your birthday.

It had been incredibly unprofessional, but he was driven hard all week to get the case they’d been working wrapped up before the weekend, and if the team knew why he’d been so adamant, they didn’t comment on it.

He pulled back then, pressing further into you, his clothed erection digging into your hip. A moan escaped your lips and he grinned like he was the happiest person in the world. His hands slid down your back and dug into your thighs, holding you flush against his body as your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. In one swift movement he sat back on his heels, picking you up effortlessly, sliding both of you off the bed and into the bathroom. As much as he wanted to fuck you on your bed, he knew that you were running out of time and needed to be efficient with the little moments you still had.

It was rough and messy, a fit of giggles and moans as he managed to discard his boxers and slide into you in what felt like seconds. Your moans were drowned by the shower, his hips slamming into yours in tandem with the water gushing over your sweaty bodies. Your back slammed against the porcelain wall and you hit your head, eliciting another fit of giggles out of you. He couldn’t help but laugh with you, the ease of making love to you allowing both of you to be silly, allowing for sex to just be silly and carefree and gentle in a way that neither of you had experienced before. You both came soon after, laughter turning into moans turning into pants as you both caught your breath.

“I love you,” he whispered, his strong arms still holding you snugly against him.

You smiled sheepishly back. “I love you too.”

“So much,” he continued then. “You don’t even know.”

“I think I do,” you joked, your fingers tracing the outline of his smile, the one that refused to leave his lips.

He pressed a kiss to your finger, not even trying to hide the truth of your words. He couldn't remember ever smiling this much, ever being this happy about anything other than the birth of his son, but even that had been laced with terror, fear, and a cocktail of emotions that had overshadowed the happiness of the moment. But this? This was simple, it made sense, it fulfilled him in a way that he didn’t have to work hard for, he didn’t have to overthink, he didn’t have to kill himself for.

A timid knock startled you both, your attention quickly turning to the bedroom door as you heard Jack whisper loudly for Aaron. Time had run out but it didn’t matter, the day had just begun, and you were about to be spoiled in ways you couldn’t even imagine.

“Can you stand?” he asked and you nodded, unhooking your legs from around his torso. He slowly slid out of you and you whined loud enough for him to hear. He loved hearing you whine every time he pulled out of you. It was such a small thing and yet it boosted his ego every time. You leaned away from the showerhead, making sure to not get your hair wet as Aaron quickly got under the water to wash off. You watched him from the back of the shower, eyes greedily taking in his naked body. He was all yours, that kind, beautiful man in front of you was all yours.

Your eyes remained on his body as you reached out to grab a hair tie. He wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, he was just washing his body, running his hands over his wet and soapy skin, and yet it was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen him do. You bit down on your lower lip, getting worked up all over again. And as if he could sense it, he turned around to face you, the water now obscenely washing away the soap he had just applied.

He let out a chuckle when he noticed you staring and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes in response. He ran his hands over his body once more, this time making sure to maintain eye contact with you and you were sure you could’ve cum again just by the sight alone.

“Don’t even think about touching yourself,” he threatened, turning off the shower and stalking towards you.

“Yes, daddy,” you replied and he crashed his lips to yours again. But Jack was getting impatient and another knock interrupted you before you could do anything. You watched him exit the shower, wrapping a towel around his lower half before he walked out of the bathroom, making sure to close the door behind him.

You had cleaned yourself up and gotten back into your PJs, making sure to sell this fantasy that you had been sleeping when Jack burst into the room and jumped up and down on the mattress. He was so energetic, so loud that morning that you were concerned your neighbors would complain. Aaron entered the room behind him, a tray overflowing with pancakes and bacon and eggs and everything that Jack could think of that you might want for breakfast. The three of you ate on the bed, making sure to sit atop the duvet as to hide the remnants of your earlier activities as Jack rambles on about all the things he wants to do with you today.

The day was jam packed to say the least – going to the park, getting ice cream, having burgers from this place Jack’s friend took him last weekend, going to the movies to watch this new movie the boy wanted to watch – and even after Aaron reminded Jack that today wasn’t about him, that he should probably ask you what you wanted to do, you couldn’t come up with a better plan. And so with breakfast eaten, the kitchen cleaned, and all of you out of your PJs and into fresh clothes, you went out on the town for the entire day.

It was almost seven when you dropped Jack off at Jessica’s for the night. The boy was incredibly confused, but after a lot of coaxing and maybe some light bribery from his dad, Jack gave you one last hug and a kiss on the cheek and went inside with his aunt.

“And then there were two,” you mused as you turned to look at Aaron, the lovesick expression back on his face, the one that he’d been hiding all day so as to not overwhelm Jack and open himself up to insane questions about just how much he loved you. Because as much as he continued to pretend like it was a normal amount, it clearly wasn’t. He leaned over the center console and placed a kiss on your lips, the first one he’d given you since the morning and you immediately lit up.

“As much as I would love to just stay home and do nothing but fuck all night,” he snorted at that, the idea clearly having crossed his mind too as you were still somehow stuck in this horny teenagers in love phase of your relationship. “I’m really hungry.”

“Good,” he said in between kisses. “Because we have a reservation in an hour,” you beamed at that and he finally pulled back, driving away from Jessica’s. “But we have to go back home and change first, the restaurant might not like our jeans and sneakers.”

Your gaze snapped back to him. “Aaron–” you chided.

“Let me spoil you, princess,” he was quick to stop your overthinking, his hand reaching over and landing on your thigh. “Will you let me spoil you, baby?”

“Yes, sir,” you teased and his grip on your thigh tightened in warning.

You were back home soon enough and he prompted you to go take a shower. You knew he was getting rid of you so that he could unhide the plethora of presents that he’d terribly hidden in his closet. It had taken every ounce of self restraint not to open them up the night before when you found them, and now that you had been reminded of their existence, you didn’t even want to give him the chance to not give them to you.

He’d been planning your birthday for a few weeks now. It was the first one that he’d gotten to experience with you as his girlfriend, and he would be damned if he didn’t go all out. You always liked to joke that your love language of gift giving was reserved for other people, oftentimes having a hard time accepting gifts yourself as much as you loved getting new things. And so he’d made sure to not only get you things that he knew you’d love, but also plan a night out where the two of you could finally spend some much needed quality time together, his own love language.

You stepped out of the bathroom in a plush robe he’d left for you, a big yawn escaping you. “I don’t know how far we’re gonna get,” you joked and he sprang to his feet in response. You noticed the neatly wrapped presents on the bed where he’d been only seconds ago but didn’t get a chance to get excited as his hands found their way to your jaw, turning you to face him.

“We don’t have to go to dinner if you don’t want to,” he started and your brows scrunched in confusion. “It’s not…just dinner.

He knew he was going to have to talk to you about his plans eventually, but he’d hoped that at the very least he'd get to give you all the presents he bought before he did. He’d thought it all out, each present leading into the next, helping him set up his big surprise. But instead, he pulled you in flush against his body and told you everything. He watched your reactions to his words like a hawk, the possibility that you might not want to do this clear in his mind. But oh can a man dream. You stop him halfway through his prepared explanation, your eyes bright with excitement, the energy that you’d lost quickly igniting through you as his words hit home.

You found yourself sitting in a private room in the back of what looked like a very expensive, fine dining restaurant. You were wearing a long, black dress that he had bought just for the occasion, knowing that you would most definitely get too wet from what you were about to do, and he had no desire to ruin one of the beautiful dresses you did own. He helped you into it, delicate hands making sure to take extra care of you.

The second gift had been a beautiful bottle of perfume. He had noticed a few weeks ago that your favorite one was on its last leg. You’d been savoring it, dreading the day that it ran out since the very specific blend had been discontinued years prior. He knew this because he’d taken the time to research it, wanting nothing more than to surprise you with another bottle. It was one of the things that made him think of you, what he could still remember about those first few months when you had barely started becoming acquaintances.

So, instead of losing his mind trying to find the specific bottle that you used, he’d taken it upon himself to find a new one, one that managed to perfectly capture you in a bottle. The fragrance he found was soft and fresh, like sunshine sparkling through a glass of fresh lemonade that you could only get at this restaurant overlooking the ocean. It paired perfectly with his own cologne, the two scents complimenting each other rather than clashing. He had taken a moment to breathe you both in before leaving the house, committing the scent to memory and grinning brightly when you told him you loved it.

However, the final gift, the pièce de résistance, was what truly took your breath away. A small purple vibrator that he’d slid into your already wet entrance, the head hitting right at your core and the other end perfectly over your clit. But what made it even more special than all the other ones you already owned, was that this one could be controlled through his phone. You had talked about public play before, and if the many instances where you’d fucked in the office were any indication, you both loved the thrill of getting caught, of having to act normal when out in public. And by some grace of data farming and pure luck, he’d found a link to a new kinky restaurant on one of the forums that he visited that claimed to allow couples to do just that.

It was all consensual, the staff prepared and trained to cater to their customers, the clientele vetted and interviewed before they even got a chance to reserve a table. It was a seven course meal, two hours total, all the food local, organic, and prepared by world renowned chefs. You could basically eat and play until dessert was served, what you couldn’t do was fuck since if you wanted to do that you would have to go downstairs to the sex club where they had the permits and stronger consent forms for you to do that.

He was kneeling before you, your dress scrunched around your hips by shaky hands as his own gently thrust the silicone into you. You hummed as he gently pulled your panties back over it, holding the toy in place deep within you. He accentuated the gesture by leaning forward and placing a kiss to your mound before he stood up and offered his hand to you. You’d gotten ready by then, makeup and hair done to perfection, a goddess blessing him with your presence for the night.

You’d made it out of the house and into the car before he even thought to start teasing you. When he stopped at the first red light and pulled out his phone, your heart almost leapt out of your chest and he chuckled mockingly. Instead he simply called Jessica to say goodnight to Jack, the two of you letting the boy know just how much you loved him before he got distracted and left Aaron to talk to Jessica about the week ahead. You chimed in with your schedule, a few changes here and there that you could confirm so that the three of you could start putting together what the week would look like if Aaron had to leave for a case.

The light turned green and he said goodbye. He was about to put his phone away when the light a few blocks down turned red and without missing a beat, he switched to the app and blasted the vibrator as high as it could go. You screamed, hands shooting out to the dashboard to steady yourself as your sitting position only made it so that the vibrator jammed itself further into you.

“Fuck, Aaron,” you groaned as he turned to face you.

“You don’t get to cum,” he began. “If you need to stop at any moment for any reason, you let me know immediately and we take a break. If you don’t want to do anything anymore, I will not be mad, this is about you, for you, so if you decide you’re not feeling it or you want to focus on the food instead, you let me know. Understood?”

“Yes, s-sir,” you manage and just as quick as it started, the vibrations went away. You slump back against the seat as the light turns green and he returns his focus to the road, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other squeezes your thigh reassuringly. The rest of the car ride went off without so much as a peep of his phone, instead you just talked about his week, about the case they had just wrapped and all the paperwork that would be waiting for you both on Monday.

Before you knew it you were being escorted into a private table at the back of the restaurant by a beautiful, tattooed woman in a tight latex dress. You couldn’t take your eyes off her, and it was only when she left you alone that Aaron turned to look at you with a curious smirk on his features. Your cheeks heated up instantly, so embarrassed to have been caught staring that you didn’t even realize he’d pulled his phone out under the table.

“I don’t think it’s very polite,” he began. “To openly check someone else out when I’m the only one you should be looking at.”

With that he turned the vibrator on, lower than before but still powerful enough to have your abs clenching, your eyes instinctively falling shut, your breathing deepening. He keeps his eyes on you, a silent test as the hostess returns with a jar of water and two glasses. She doesn’t even react to your flushed state and you barely register her as the thrill of his daring stare and the throbbing between your legs keep you laser focused on him. It’s only when she leaves again that he relents, lowering the intensity to a manageable hum.

“Good girl,” he cooed, keeping your game of chicken going as he asks you to tell him about what you got up to the past week.

You manage to tell him about the endless meetings you’d had, how you were basically following Cruz around like a useless zombie since you now had to catch him up to everything he’d missed while on leave. But at least you were off the hook and could finally return to your regular duties of looking after your staff.

“I’ll make sure the way you treat me tonight factors into your upcoming evaluation,” you joked, playful and clearly not thinking much of it, but something dark flashes across his eyes and you can’t help but still in terror.

“Oh princess,” he mocked. “You wanted me to be mean, remember?” you gulped. “And I’ll be damned if I don’t live up to your expectations.”

The first course was delivered then, a beautiful cheese board overflowing with crackers, soft cheeses and fresh fruit. You only learned this after the meal was over, but he’d gotten to hand pick every single course to cater it to your taste specifically. Your eyes glimmered with excitement, for a second forgetting that you were here doing other things that didn’t involve food. But he had known quite boldly that this was exactly how you’d react, and he’d be damned if he didn’t strive to give you as much pleasure as he could.

“Daddy,” you whispered, almost afraid of talking to him like this in public. His eyes landed on yours immediately, reassuring, confident, kind. This was a safe space, you would not be bothered by anyone and if you were he’d make sure to sue the living shit out of the establishment. “Please sit next to me?”

It was clear from the way you’d said it that you wanted him to feed you, that you wanted to feed him.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he slid around the booth, his gorgeous black suit sliding effortlessly against the expensive leather coverings. You smiled to yourself, busying your hands by making him the perfect bite. A multigrain cracker topped with a slice of brie, a swirl of honey, and a raspberry to top it off. His arm swings around your waist, sitting himself as close to you as he can. He immediately faces you, mouth open for you to place the treat over his tongue. As you do, his lips wrap around your fingers, licking them clean before he even thinks about chewing. That’s when your brain stops working, a fuse blowing up.

You stared at him, dumbfounded as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing almost pornographically as it finally dawned on you just what it is you’re doing. Concern flashed across his eyes and you shook your head, trying to alleviate his fears. You’re okay, you want to be here, you’re just overwhelmed and scared of letting yourself slip further into subspace while you’re not in the comfort and safety of your own home. He knows exactly what you’re thinking without you even having to utter a single word, and instead leans over to kiss the concern away.

“Do you want to stop, baby?” he asked against your lips.

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully because in that moment you truly didn’t.

He nodded once, an unspoken decision to slow it down, to just enjoy each other’s company and see where the night took you. He reached over and made you a perfect bite then, delicately feeding it to you and making sure to take his fingers out of your mouth to emphasize that he didn’t want you to reciprocate any of his advances if you weren’t comfortable.

You continued the motions of feeding each other until the plate was practically empty. Conversation had continued to flow, even more after your waiter brought over the first cocktails of the night. It felt incredibly exciting to have the evening be so controlled, so precisely managed by him. He had made choices for you that were perfect, from the dress you wore to the perfume that clung to your skin, to the food you were eating, to the drink you were sipping on. He had just placed the final cracker into your mouth when he accidentally spilled honey all over his fingers. He groaned and you laughed, your mouth only watering at the sight as he struggled to get the sticky substance off his fingers.

Without thinking you grabbed a hold of his wrist and brought his hand up to your mouth. He stilled in anticipation, knowing fully well what you were about to do. You took his middle finger between your lips first, swirling your tongue over the digit, sucking off the sweet substance until there was nothing left before moving onto the next one. You took extra care of his thumb last, making a show of it, bobbing your head a few times trying to get him farther into your mouth. The rest of his hand grasped your jaw strongly enough to elicit another pang of lust at your core, the forgotten, faint humming of the vibrator against them now remembered.

He must’ve remembered too because he picked up his phone and slowly began toying with the intensity once more, his other thumb still in your mouth. You faintly registered as your waiter came and went, clearing the table before returning with your second course. But all you could focus on was the way your walls clenched and unclenched, the way his fingers dug into your jaw, the way his eyes bore into your soul like the world around the two of you didn’t exist. He lowered the intensity back down to what it had been before and you relaxed into the now comfortable vibration.

“We shouldn’t let the food go cold,” he told you, pulling his thumb out of your mouth and then using his own tongue to lap the saliva that had escaped from your lips before he returned to his spot on the other side of the table.

You spent the next few courses in a casual pattern of teasing and eating. He’d never let the vibrations get too high, keeping you almost in a euphoric state for the entire night instead of overwhelming you with pleasure. It was nice, nice to be taken care of, nice to be pampered, nice to eat delicious food and make out lazily with your boyfriend in between courses. By the time they’d taken away the plates of your entrée you were starting to feel full, full of food, full of love, full of him.

You asked him for a break and he immediately obliged, the humming stopping completely before you slid off the booth, an obvious wet patch where you’d been sitting. You couldn’t help but giggle before you made your way to the bathroom. He watched you go, entranced by your effortlessness, your ability to saunter off and have him staring at you like his life depended on it.

He took the moment alone as a chance to check in with the staff, making adjustments to the remaining two courses of your menu before you returned. A few minutes later you slid into the booth next to him, hands greedily landing on his chest as you let your touch linger, explore. He wasted no time before he wrapped his arm around you, pressing you further into him. His lips landed on your temple, reassuring, loving, soft, softer than he’d ever been with you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, both his hands lacing your fingers with his.

You nodded. “I took it out.”

He needed no explanation, he simply nodded, accepting your decision as final.

You shared a steak as your main course since he knew you were probably full by now and while he could’ve eaten the entire thing, he would much rather pace himself than be too full to make love to you when you got back. When dessert finally came around, he tensed against you and you turned to face him, concern on your features for a change. But as you noticed the waiter return with a large, full cake in his hands, you completely understood why.

Your eyes filled with tears in an instant, the spongy bizcochuelo staring back at you as if it didn’t understand the weight of memories it held. The simple sponge cake was decorated with powdered sugar and fresh fruits, a side of whipped cream for your own enjoyment. It had been five years ago when you told him in passing that you’d spent your twenty-fifth birthday making your grandmother’s recipe at home. It had been a disaster, the technique of the recipe eluding you until you simply gave up and ate ice cream on the floor of your apartment. Aaron thanked the waiter and he left before you finally turned to face him, pouting dramatically as if to say how dare he make you cry on your birthday.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispered and you immediately turned your head to capture his lips in a deep, needy kiss. He returned the intensity, hands blindly searching for the lighter the waiter had left him to light the candles they had placed on the cake before he let your touch take a hold of him and you would run out of here without getting to try the dessert.

“Make a wish,” he spoke against your lips and you begrudgingly pulled away long enough to focus on the magic of the moment. You closed your eyes, your hand finding his and giving it a grounding squeeze before blowing out the candles.

You didn’t get to eat the cake as your kisses became more heated, the need to have him after two hours of teasing almost overwhelming. He quickly called the waiter back, got the cake all packed up to go, and made sure to leave a hundred dollar bill as a tip before he was ushering you back to the car like a giddy teenager that was finally getting lucky tonight.

You barely managed to make it up to his apartment before he was pulling your dress skirt up to bunch around your waist. Your own hands expertly unhooked his belt, not slowing down as you unbuttoned his pants and slid down the zipper. It was very chaotic to say the least as he didn’t even think before he was pushing his painful erection into you. He bottomed out almost immediately, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist before he moved towards his dining room table and laid you gently on top of it.

His hips began moving the second that he knew your back was comfortable atop the wood, movements precise, calculated, determined to make you come undone for being such a good girl for him all night. As much as he had plans to tease you more than he had, he was even more turned on by the fact that you had advocated for yourself and communicated how you were feeling clearly.

The tightness in your core built up fast and you were begging him to let you cum only minutes after he’d started. He did and you gushed against his cock. But he didn’t slow down, instead he turned you over, your chest now pressed against the table as he entered you again from behind, the same confident movements seeking his own release now.

Your moans echoed around the quiet apartment, finally being able to be loud without fear of anyone catching you in the act. He rewarded your noises by snaking his fingers to your clit, matching the pace he was still holding even as you writhed beneath him, the overstimulation painful.

“You can take it, baby,” he chided. You tried your best to still your wiggling but it was almost impossible as your second orgasm washed over you without warning, before you could even ask him for it. He came the second your walls clenched around him again, the pressure almost suffocating as his cum painted your walls. You screamed silently, your entire body tensing up and then shaking slightly as your body processed what had just happened. He felt it almost a second too late and could only watch in awe as you squirted all over his pants, drenching the fabric in a sea of your essence.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mumbled, the gushing sounds confusing, the sensation foreign. He pulled out then, managing to catch the last wave of liquid spurt out of you and onto the floor. You whined loudly then, the discomfort making you feel self conscious again before your brain finally understood what had just happened.

“I did it?” you managed between gasps of air and he nodded against your back, placing a kiss to your shoulder blade.

“You did, baby,” he praised. “Such a good girl for me.”

That’s how you ended the night, fucking against another hard surface before he drew you a bath and the two of you sat down in the warm water, surrounded by bubbles and ate the most delicious birthday cake you’d had since being back home with your family.

You tore into the minimalist brown paper greedily, Jack’s small hands coming up to help you get it off faster, clearly wanting to know what his dad got you that he hadn’t gotten to help him pick out. You almost burst with excitement when you realize what it is and you turn to him with a bright smile on your lips.

“Is it the one from Australia?” you asked him and he nodded, his muscles working overtime not to match your smile with one of his own. “Thank you so much.”

It warmed his heart that even after he’d gifted you a handful of very expensive items, the one that had gotten the biggest reaction out of you had been the planner he’d back ordered months ago. Luckily for him, he didn’t have to hide his affection any longer as Jack practically ripped the notebook from your hands and the rest of the group bursted in laughter at his curiosity. He allowed himself the moment to smile brightly then, his son the perfect cover to beam brightly at the two of you.

It was nearing ten when you finally made it out the door, a sleepy Jack slumped against Aaron’s chest. Jessica had left a while ago, leaving you with your kid to start the week. Aaron’s hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back towards Dave’s office down the hall as the rest of the group said goodbye to each other. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion but he didn’t let you dwell on it as he shut the door behind the three of you.

“Jack,” he woke the boy up. “Do you want to give her the present we picked out together now?”

He’d almost forgotten about it if it hadn’t been for Jessica finding the velvet box in the kid’s backpack the night before. Apparently he’d taken it from his dad’s office for safekeeping and had completely forgotten to tell Aaron. The boy perked up, nodding slowly as his dad handed him the box. Your gaze flickered between the two of them, your stomach twisting in knots at the mere thought of what could be inside. Thankfully, you noted quickly that it was too large to be a ring and that eased your anxieties greatly.

Jack struggled opening the lock and Aaron had to intervene, helping him open it to display a dainty gold necklace with a round pendant, two gems, a purple tourmaline and a bright orange citrine embedded into it. You looked up at the boy first, tears in your eyes and he immediately shot his hand out to your cheek to soothe you, his dad doing the same on the other side, pulling you into their embrace as you laid your head on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Do you like it?” Jack asked and you nodded.

“I love it, thank you,” you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek before turning to look up at his dad, pulling him down to press a kiss to his lips. Jack giggled, and you both smiled into the kiss, pressing your lips together once more as if daring him to laugh again. When he did, the two of you immediately turned to him with mischief in your eyes and began to kiss all over his face until he was begging you to stop.

“Okay crazy,” you told Jack. “Let’s go home.”

You let them walk out the door first, taking a second alone to take in the beautiful, thoughtful gift. You clasped the box shut before Morgan slid into the room, a playful smirk over his lips.

“You know, Penelope almost caught you two when she came down looking for the bathroom,” he teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Who would’ve won then?” you replied.

“Reid,” you both erupted into a fit of laughter then, fitting for the know-it-all Doctor to truly know it all.

“Next week?” he asked you and you nodded.

“I still get to keep the house, right?”

“Baby, if I finally win this damn bet, you can keep both of them for all I care. I’m honestly after the bragging rights at this point.”

You’d been teasing him since he’d arrived at your house earlier that day. Much like he had surprised you for your birthday a little over a month ago, you had planned on surprising him for Father’s Day. Jack had planned out the entire day, making sure to spoil his dad, with yours and Jessica’s help of course. They had come over to your house for lunch. You swam in the pool, made ribs and steak on the grill, played soccer under the blistering sun, and made out lazily after Jack had practically passed out from the heat in the early afternoon.

You had been responsible, almost to a fault, while Jack was still with the two of you, and so when the sun went down and he carried the sleeping child back to Jessica's car, you were determined to keep up the teasing.

You’d been working yourself into a frenzy trying to figure out what to do for him after the success that was your birthday dinner. It had been almost impossible to one up him, to find something that the two of you could do that would ever rival that experience. And to be quite honest, you were exhausted just thinking about doing something like that again, at least right now.

It was only after you remembered who you were planning for that you decided to return to the roots of your relationship – simplicity. As much as he’d gone all out to plan said experience, it had taken a lot out of the two of you, mentally and physically. You’d gotten back home that night and said nothing to each other since you were so out of it and he was laser focused on taking care of you now that it was the two of you in the comfort of your own home. He’d bathed you, made sure you drank even more water, put you in that warm, fluffy robe he’d gotten you, and the two had fallen asleep almost immediately after.

You had been so good for him, so open, so responsive, so perfect that he’d spent the following weeks making sure to reward you even more. To say it had been overwhelming would be a lie because there was no word you could think of that would actually encapsulate all of the emotions you’d been feeling. And so you’d arrived at the conclusion that you couldn’t do that again, at least not for a while, or else it would quite literally drive you to madness. It was hard enough to not smile every time you crossed paths at work, not reach out to him instinctively, not linger when you knew you shouldn’t.

He’d gone out with Jessica to say goodnight to Jack, even though you all knew he was too out of it to even register his dad carrying him back to the car. You took the few minutes alone to start cleaning up, knowing fully well that you were not going to be up for it tomorrow morning after what you had planned. You’d been deliberately naughty all day, wearing a skimpy bikini that still covered you up but let you flaunt everything around.

You would lean into him, your boobs practically bursting from the fabric as you reached for something beside him or handed him another beer. You would take any excuse to touch him, from wrestling against him in the pool or running your feet up his leg while the four of you ate. It had been too much fun to watch him get frustrated and not be able to do anything about it other than shift in his seat, readjust his bathing suit, taking full advantage of every time Jack got distracted to steal a heavy caress or even a kiss to any area of exposed skin he could get to first.

His hands snaked around your stomach and you finally stilled, dropping the garbage bag on the floor as his front pressed against your back.

“Hi,” he murmured, his hands tugging at the strings holding your bikini together and his lips tracing heated kisses up your neck.

“Hi,” you giggled, grinding yourself further into him. He groaned in response, his already hardening erection stabbing against your ass.

“We don’t have anywhere to be, right?” he asked, almost too hopeful.

You turned around in his arms, your best acting skills on display as your face scrunches apologetically. You don’t even have to tell him before he understands that you do. His head fell against the crook of your neck in defeat, almost making you break.

But instead, you started to run your hands over his naked chest, slowly pushing him backwards towards the pool. He’s so distracted by your hands, by your nails raking against this skin that he doesn’t notice until you’re aggressively pushing him into the pool. He barely registered what was happening, his hands desperately trying to grip anything before his body landed against the cold water with a splash.

You immediately started to laugh as you waited for him to come back up for air. But when he did, he wasted no time drenching you as well, dramatically leaping out through the surface and splashing water over you. It only made you laugh harder. But as quick as it had started, the playfulness got overpowered with lust as he ran his hands over his face and hair. It was in those simple gestures that you were truly able to experience his beauty, his magnetic pull screaming at you that you needed to be so close to him your bodies became one.

You stared at each other for a moment, hearts beating faster, chests rising and falling so quickly you were surprised you still had lungs. You returned the favor, your own hands running over your stomach and up towards your breasts sensually. He was mesmerized, unable to look away as your hands found the knot on your back and you slowly, painfully slowly undid it. The garment hovered over your breasts but still kept them covered, a very anticlimactic reveal that had his cock twitching. You smiled brightly, his reaction evident in the smallest of tension in his jaw. He was practically salivating at this point, his patience close to running out.

You wasted no more time as you pulled the knot at the back of your neck undone, finally exposing yourself to him. He walked forward towards the edge of the pool, his eyes locked on your body like a man starved. He stretched his arms out to you and you took a hold of his own hands, throwing yourself into the pool without so much as a second thought.

The second your head resurfaced, his hands were on you greedily. They moved from your arms down to your legs, prompting you to hook them around his waist. He then massaged your ass, spreading it apart to grind your core against his erection. You moaned, pressing your chest further into his. He took advantage of your open mouth and immediately slipped his tongue past your lips. Fuck, you loved it when he kissed you. You honestly thought you could do this forever, his hands on your back, his lips on yours, your hands running through his hair.

You ground into him harder, your hips starting to move on their own, seeking some much needed friction as his mouth continued to explore yours. It was silly to think that something like this could make you swoon, make you this excited, make you feel so content and alive. It was silly, stupid love. It was a first crush kind of care, just two kids in love trying to figure out what to do with these big feelings they were now experiencing for the first time. Only, you had both been in love before, with other people and even with each other. And yet this still felt incredibly different from any of it. You both knew it, even if you’d never put it into words, because you didn’t need to. You could feel it.

“Can we…?” he trailed off, bored of using words, tired of having to breathe in order to keep kissing you. You shook your head, still keeping the charade strong. “Princess, you’re being mean.”

He practically whined and your chest immediately swelled with pride. You almost never got him to be needy, to show you that he needed you as much as you needed him. Of course you knew that he did, but it was on very rare occasions that you could get him so riled up that he practically begged to take you. You punctuated your decision by stilling your movements and placing one last kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“We have to get ready,” you told him but his grip did not relent.

“You’re letting me go into a restaurant with my dick this hard, baby?” he rolled his hips up into you and you giggled. Not the reaction he was expecting but the facade was slowly starting to slip. He wasn’t going to have to. If he noticed the reason why you were so giggly, he didn’t comment on it.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you told him. “But I have to shower and do my hair and do my makeup and—”

He stopped you with a searingly hot kiss. “Do you really want to go out tonight?”

You nodded, knowing fully well that if he truly didn’t want to go, if he truly wanted to just stay in and fuck you into the mattress he could just say the word and that’s what you’d do. But you looked so excited, so proud of yourself that you had planned something nice for him on Father’s Day of all days, that he knew he could never say no to you.

“I just wanna look pretty for you,” you told him, fully knowing that would do the trick. “Please?”

He sighed deeply. “Anything you want, baby.”

You made out for a few more minutes, making sure to show him just how grateful you were that he’d put his own desires aside to give you what you wanted. You’d showered first while he finished tidying up the house so that you didn’t get ants in the morning. He found you at your vanity, body covered by a silk robe that did little to hide your body. Your hair was already dry, styled, and out of your face as you did your makeup. You looked so beautiful it took everything in him to only place a small kiss on your lips before he walked into the bathroom to get himself ready.

You did your makeup, making sure to not use any waterproof items. The theme of the night was innocence, to dumbly pretend like you had no idea what you were doing or that your actions had any effect on him. He walked out of the bathroom, towel hanging low on his hips and you immediately began getting heated again. He shot you a sly smirk, almost as if to say two can play at that game before he made his way over to your closet. You had practically moved half of your things into his apartment a few weeks prior and he had done the same almost a day later.

“What do you want me in, baby?” he asked, pulling a pair of boxers up his legs.

“Suit,” you replied, making it a point to dwell on your makeup, silently cuing him in on just how much longer you’d be. He knew by now, knew that eyeshadow meant fifteen more minutes. Enough time for him to get dressed and then help you into whatever item of clothing you’d chosen for tonight.

“Yes, ma’am,” he joked and your nose immediately scrunched in disgust, making him laugh.

Your gaze lingered on him as he pulled out the blue suit. It was funny to think that he knew he’d always get lucky when he wore it, funnier even to think that he was literally putting on the equivalent of lingerie for you. You continued with your makeup, movements slow and precise, almost dragging it out. Thankfully he didn’t know that much to notice, maybe you were just trying out a new technique, maybe you were just making sure that you looked your best, just like you’d said earlier.

He slipped his suit jacket on just as you finished putting on lipstick, a darker pink than normal. It made your lips look almost like candy, all glossy and full. He stepped behind you, pressing his front into your back once more before he leaned down and began kissing down your neck. You hummed into the action, making sure to heave your chest out as he sucked on a particularly sensitive area just under your collarbone. And as if you’d timed it perfectly, the doorbell rang just as things were starting to get heated.

You upped the acting just a little as your brows knitted in confusion.

“Can you go see who it is, baby?” you asked him. He stood up in an instant, his fingers running down your neck and back to remind you of where you’d left off before he walked out of the room. You waited for his footsteps to recede down the hall before you shot to your feet. At best you had five minutes before he came back up the stairs, so you had to rush through the final steps of your plan.

As much as Aaron wanted to do whatever you wanted, he’d definitely come up with a plan to seduce you into staying in instead of going out for dinner. He knew that if he could make you just as hot and bothered as he was for you, that it would be the easiest thing in the world to do to keep you at home. And when he stepped out of the shower and saw you all dolled up, all pretty just for him, it was honestly the easiest decision he’d made. He would gladly even take your temper tantrum after he’d fucked you so full that you’d be forced to stay in and waste a perfectly nice outing.

But whoever was at the door at this late hour had thoroughly fucked him over. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to make sure that Jessica hadn’t called him, and when his notification came up empty, he was now the one confused. None of your friends knew he was here, you’d both made sure of it. Hell, you were supposed to be out of town at a spa and he had told them all he was spending the weekend camping with Jack, so there was no way that any of them could be at the door.

Which is why it was even more confusing to him when he opened the door and came face to face with a pizza delivery boy. He held a large pie in his hands and an expectant, customer service smile on his lips.

“We didn’t order a pizza,” Aaron stated as calmly as he possibly could.

“I know you didn’t,” the boy told him. “A lady made the order and paid with a card.”

He held the box for him to take, his patience running thin as Aaron’s mind raced. He finally allowed himself to take the box and the boy walked back to his car without a second thought. Confusion slowly turned into frustration as Aaron closed the door again, made his way to the kitchen to drop off the pizza and then almost stupidly, walked himself back up the stairs.

“Who was it?” you yelled from your room, your tone genuine, normal enough for him to still not think anything of it.

“Pizza boy,” he replied, pushing the door open.

He stopped dead in his tracks then, his thoughts finally clicking into palace. The moan that erupted from him was low and guttural, a sound that you’d heard many times before but never in this context. It made you feel good, almost too good. Your stomach practically flipped in excitement, your core tightening with expectation.

You were sitting on the bed, wide doe eyes staring at him, your hair tied back into a low ponytail, held in place by a pink ribbon. His gaze slowly traveled lower. Delicate sheer pink fabric fell from your shoulders into an adorable babydoll dress that landed right below your ass. Underneath, he could see the lace of your underwear, a matching white set that he’d never seen before adorned with pretty embroidered flowers that tried their best to cover your nipples and your mound. His eyes traveled lower to the pretty white stockings that adorned your legs, held in place by a pink garter belt tied around your waist.

“Daddy?” you asked, the silence terrifying now.

“Fuck, baby,” he exhaled and your eyes immediately widened. You’d only gotten him to curse out loud once, and it had only been because of all the pent up tension between the two of you. You hadn’t even gotten to savor it, to revel in the excitement that was getting him so worked up that the only response was almost primitive. Every other time he used crass language was when you were playing, so to get him, Aaron, your boyfriend, to react this way just furthered your giddiness.

“We don’t have a dinner reservation, do we?” you shook your head no, biting down on your lip.

“‘M sorry I didn’t get you a daddy day present,” you mumbled, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed. That was the final nail in the coffin of his understanding. It all made perfect sense now. Why you hadn’t been drinking all day, why Jessica had taken Jack so early, why you’d asked him to put on his suit even though you knew you weren’t going anywhere. His heart practically leapt out of his chest as he willed his legs to move forward.

As much as he wanted to jump right in, to dive instead of slowly step inside the pool, he didn’t. He loved you too much for that, and you loved him even more because he stopped himself. His hands softly cupped your jaw, his eyes stared deep into yours as he leaned down, brushing his nose against yours and making you giggle.

“Are you sure, baby?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, no need for any more back and forth.

“Did you remember to drink some water?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember your safeword?”

“Yes.”

“Say it,” his grip tightened just a little bit.

“Dolmas, sir.”

“Good,” he leaned forward just a little bit. “What can I do to you, baby?”

“Anything,” you were already panting.

“Anything?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he groaned, his lips so close to yours it took everything in you not to smash them together. “Color?”

“Green, daddy,” and with that he fully let himself go.

His mouth crash landed on yours desperately and you whimpered loudly. His tongue entered your mouth then, starving, as if he hadn’t just spent the last hour kissing you. You tried to pull him back towards the bed but he held you in place. Your hands roamed up to his torso, nails dragging against the buttons of his shirt, but he pulled back before you could get even one of them undone. He bit down on your lower lip, a warning, before he pulled back from you completely.

He stood back up, his tall frame hovering over you as you fell back on the bed, head already dizzy and spent. Slipping away was never hard with him, relinquishing control on the other hand was something that you’d been slowly working towards. But you’d never quite allowed yourself to fully let go, to be at his mercy in this way, so consumed by him that all you could think of was him and nothing else. It was simple, easy, even more so since you’d never quite felt this small before.

You looked up at him, impatiently waiting for him to touch you again. Instead, he walked himself over to the loveseat by the window, shrugging off his suit jacket and placing it over your dresser before he sat himself down. He spread his legs open, making sure to display the bulge painfully straining the fabric of his pants over his crotch.

“Come here, baby,” he commanded, your cheeks immediately heating up. You shuffled off the bed, your legs already shaking as you crossed the room towards him. You stood between his legs, patiently waiting for his next command. Instead, he sat up, his hands grabbing a hold of the dress you had on and wasting no time pulling it over your head and tossing it to the side. “Down.”

You dropped to your knees in an instant, mouth salivating, drool practically dripping from your mouth and onto his pants.

“May I, daddy?” you asked him and he was sure he could’ve cum right then and there.

“Of course, angel,” he replied, comfortably sitting back to watch you.

Your hands made a quick way of his belt, aggressively sliding it all the way out of the loops and tossing it back on the bedroom floor like he’d done with your dress. The button and zipper of his pants were next and he made no effort to lift himself up for you to slide them down his body. The thought only made you shiver. You’d wanted him to fuck you while his suit was still on, wanted to feel the heaviness of it against your skin, wanted him to use you and remind you of your place.

Anticipation made your vision blurry as you ran your fingers under his boxers, firmly grasping his cock and pulling it out. It was so warm, so heavy, so thick, it didn’t matter how many times you’d held it, sucked it, had it inside of you – it always made you feel fuzzy inside.

“What is it, baby?” he sneered. “Too cock drunk already you don’t know what to do with yourself?” Your cheeks heated up even more, making you pout at him in anger. Of course you knew what to do. “What are you waiting for then?”

You didn’t need to be told twice as your hand wrapped itself around the base of his length and began pumping him, expertly avoiding his glistening tip. He let you tease him for a total of five seconds before a sigh rumbled through his chest and his hands snapped to the back of your neck. You whimpered at the forcefulness, relishing the sting as his grip tightened around the base of your ponytail and shoved your face towards his cock. Your mouth opened then, drool immediately dripping down his length and out the sides of your mouth.

He groaned under your touch, your hands not once faltering in their earlier movements, now made smoother by the wetness of your mouth. You took him down your throat until your tongue wrapped around your own hands and his push relented enough for you to start moving your tongue up and down his length in tandem with your hand. Wet, slurping sounds filled the otherwise quiet room and he wasted no time adding his own moans to the mix.

You loved it when he moaned, loved it when he was so far gone that he let you hear it all, that he didn’t care if he sounded needy or like he wasn’t in control of himself. You ran your tongue over the opening at his tip, barely prodding into it and his hips jerked up instinctively, making you gag. He stilled for a second, lost to the pleasure but never inattentive to your boundaries.

You slowly pulled his cock out of your mouth, eyes watering and lungs burning. You swallowed the spit in your mouth before you allowed your lungs to fill up with air. You focused on your breathing, on calming the burning deep within your chest. He watched you intently, ready to intervene at any point, to stop entirely if you told him you’d quite literally bitten off more than you could chew, or rather suck. You gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze, an intoxicated smile on your lips as the air finally returned you to your blissful self.

“Can you spit in my mouth, please?”

His brain stopped working. He was dead and this was heaven. Without so much as thinking about it, he sat up, leaning over as he gathered as much saliva as he could in the front of his mouth. You leaned forward, your breasts practically touching his cock as you tilted your head upwards, opening your mouth as much as you could. He pursed his lips, allowing the thick glob of spit to dangle past his lips and land lewdly into your mouth. He could see your body practically beam as it landed against your tongue, your mouth curling up into such a satisfied smile. You swallowed and his cock twitched in your hands.

The movement broke some kind of spell, your eyes snapping back to take in the man before you. He looked positively wrecked, his brow glistening with sweat, his cheeks flushed crimson, his jaw clenched tight, the vein in his neck pronounced, his chest rising and falling heavily— you had done that to him. You bit down on your lower lip, your hands tightening ever so slightly around him as you practically burst with adoration. If his heart could burst, Aaron was sure it would have. His grip on the back of your neck tightened once more, pushing your head forward and crushing your lips with his.

The kiss was tender yet forceful, soft yet sharp, loving yet hateful. He hated just how much he loved you, hated that the English language would never have the words to let him vocalize it, hated that it didn’t matter how much he tried to show you the extent of his devotion, his human body would never be able to truly make you feel all the ways he wanted to worship you.

You pulled away first, determined to finish what you started and he let you go, returning to the scene after making sure you were alright. You removed your hand from around his cock, only using your fingers to keep him straight as you began to lower your mouth on him again. You made sure to breathe through your nose, to unclench your jaw and loosen your throat as you continued to take him further down. His tip hit the back of your throat then and you gagged, the tears in your eyes finally falling down your cheeks, the makeup you had applied getting smudged.

But you didn’t stop, you simply readjusted yourself and kept going, taking him down your throat until your nose brushed against the hair at his base. He groaned loudly, louder than you’d ever heard him before, and you couldn’t help but swallow around him, the pressure against his length tightening. He quickly pulled your head back, his length glistening due to your spit. You whined loudly, your body craving nothing more than to feel his spend down your throat.

“Patience, baby,” he panted. “I don’t want this to be over so quickly.”

You were so angry you ground your core against the floor and accidentally hit your opening with the side of his shoe. Your hips stilled as your mind raced. You had been so focused on him that you’d almost forgotten that you were practically soaking wet yourself. Your gaze dropped to his shoe and you could see a clear wet spot on the leather where your pussy had made contact. You shifted, pretending you were uncomfortable and needed to reposition yourself.

You were being so good for him, so patient as he calmed down, as he regained his composure. And yet he knew exactly what you were doing now. He’d seen it plastered all over your face, the flash of naughtiness, of danger that you were now desperately trying to hide. He let you use his knee as leverage to stretch your legs out, slowly shifting in his seat as well as he moved his leg over ever so slightly, positioning his foot just underneath your dripping opening. It took everything in him not to run his fingers against your panties, knowing that he’d find them soaked through if he did and he would not stop himself from fucking you then.

“Okay, baby,” he let you know you could resume and you practically slammed yourself down on his shoe, the unexpected angle forcing a moan to erupt from your stomach. He chuckled meanly as your hips began to move in lazy circles against the roughness of his laces. “Poor baby,” he snickered. “So needy she simply had to get herself off on daddy’s shoe.”

You moaned even louder, rubbing yourself against him harsher. His hand shot out to grab a hold of your throat then, thumb and pinky pressing down on the sides of your neck in warning. Your movements stilled, a needy whimper escaping your lips.

“You can get yourself off but you have to keep sucking me off, do you understand?”

“Yes, daddy,” you responded instantly, your hands returning to the base of his cock as his own retreated back to wrap itself around your hair. Your mouth was on him before you continued rutting against his shoe.

At first you made sure to move your tongue over his tip in tandem with your hips. It was lazy and slow, the knowledge that he didn’t want to cum yet at the forefront of your mind as you continued your movements. But then you hit your clit and a surge of electricity coursed up your body from your core. You moaned around him, your own pleasure overshadowing his once more. Your pace picked up while your mouth remained open, his tip still inside against your tongue. Aaron waited for a second to see if you would continue sucking, and when you clearly didn’t, too consumed by the rutting of your core against his shoe, he took matters into his own hands.

He began to bob your head up and down and you let him without so much as a look of acknowledgement as you were so wrapped up in searching for your own pleasure that him fucking your mouth didn’t even register high enough on the list of things you were focused on. Lust clouded his eyes, anger slowly creeping in as he found himself almost offended that what he was doing to you was not interesting enough to face up against what you were doing to yourself.

He pushed you further down his cock and you gagged but he didn’t pull back, instead he simply continued to keep you there, moving his hips in circles instead of your head. The tears were back, slowly dripping down your chin and onto his length, but even that didn’t seem to faze you and only added to the immense amount of pleasure you were feeling.

It was only when you couldn’t breathe anymore that you tapped his leg twice and he immediately pulled you off him. Saliva ran down your mouth and neck, your tears had dragged your makeup down and he reveled in the feeling of accomplishment that was seeing the black streaks running down your face. Your hips continued their movements, however, and he knew without even having to ask that you were perfectly fine, you just needed something else.

“Daddy, may I please cum?” you whined, needy, lustful, so little and precious.

“Yes, princess,” he cooed. “Make yourself cum.”

You whimpered in gratitude, your movements quickly picking up where you’d left off, his laces perfectly hitting your clit with every thrust. That’s when he started moving his foot, bouncing it up and down rapidly. You let out a yelp as you slipped, your slick making you slide over so easily. You squirmed, your arms wrapping around his leg tightly afraid that you could fall at any moment.

He was utterly mesmerized, so laser focused on the display in front of him he was practically drooling over himself. His cock twitched, his core tightened, his pupils dilated to the point where he wouldn’t be surprised if his eyes were black. He watched as your body tensed, as your nails dug into the meat of his calf, as you ground yourself further into him. And just like that you snapped.

The sounds that spilled from your mouth were guttural, deep, glorious. Your face landed against his thigh and he could feel the wetness of your tears staining his pants. He felt your body shaking around his leg, your core clenching around his shoe, how you whimpered his name because a part of you needed him to know what he had done to you. He ran his hand over your head, gentle strokes as you slowly came down from your high. You sniffled then, your nose already runny from just how much you’d been actually crying.

“Oh sweet angel,” he whispered, his hands running over your arms to untangle you from his leg. You let him, your body too tired to put up any kind of fight. He was quick to pick you up off the floor and press you against his chest, his arms wrapping around your body tightly. “You did so good, princess.”

“But—” a sob broke through then and you tried your hardest to compose yourself. “You didn’t get to cum too.”

The admission cut him deep. He had prepared himself for this, to be gentle and caring and loving to a degree that he hadn’t had to yet. But actually seeing you like this was a completely different experience. It was honestly the highest privilege of his life to be granted the opportunity to do so. He pressed a firm kiss to your temple, tightening his embrace, making sure that you knew just how much he loved you.

“You can still make me cum, princess,” he whispered in your ear and that’s when the realization hit you. He almost chuckled at how far gone you were that you’d completely believed that he would not be able to cum, but instead, he remained tight lipped, curious to see what you would do. You turned to face him, squirming in his grasp until he let you shift to straddle his legs.

“May I ride you, daddy?” you asked, your excitement back in full force like a sunny day the second after it had started pouring rain. He chuckled then, amused by your mood and eagerness.

“Yes, baby,” he gripped your hips as one of your hands snaked between your bodies to line his cock with your entrance, the other pulling your almost transparent lace panties out of the way. His tip slid inside of you smoothly, your wetness making it easy for you to sink down on him. You almost slammed yourself down on him, but he held you in place before the thought could translate into action. He practically growled, the groan vibrating from his chest into yours.

Your hands found their way around his neck, gentle touches exploring his clothed chest as he gently continued lowering you onto him. There was no obstruction on your part as he practically slid into you like he was meant to be there all along, like a puzzle piece that had been missing. You hummed loudly when he finally bottomed out, the fit in you euphoric. He was buried so snugly inside of you, his tip hitting the perfect spot.

He let you sit still for a second, not wanting you to start moving if it was going to be too uncomfortable for you. You, however, had completely underestimated just how tired you now were after having just ridden his foot in search of your own release. You practically slumped against him, completely forgetting you were the one that had to move in this position and instead began to kiss up his exposed neck towards his lips.

“Baby?” he murmured against your mouth. “I need you to start moving.”

You sighed deeply, eyes rolling back in annoyance as you slowly try to will your body to do anything. But all you’re strong enough to do is lazily roll your hips in circles. You huffed, starting to get frustrated as it became almost painfully obvious that your legs were still shaking ever so slightly and there was no way you’d be able to make them bounce like you’d hoped.

“It’s okay, baby,” he reassures you, but you’re still in a sour mood. “Just let daddy use you, alright?”

You nodded against his neck and he wrapped his arms around your ass once more. In one movement he’s on his feet, still fully seated inside of you, determined strides taking you across the room. Your back collided with the mattress forcefully as his length strains inside of you, eliciting another moan from your throat. He continued to stand, pulling you down to the edge of the bed so that he could perfectly angle into you. He pulls back almost all the way out, the emptiness now painful and you were about to whine when he slammed himself back into you, fully.

The sounds of wet skin slapping against each other fills the room, both your moans quick to follow. Whatever kindness he had exhibited mere seconds ago in the way he spoke to you had been thrown out the window as he mercilessly pounded in and out of you, making sure to slam himself as far as he could before swiftly pulling back out again. You quickly lose yourself again, your brain practically short circuiting as all you seem to know how to say is harder and please . He obliges happily, picking up his pace relentlessly.

“You’re so good to me,” he groaned into your ear, lowering the rest of his body to press tightly against yours. Your hands snaked around to his back, pulling him further onto you. You knew it was physically impossible but all you wanted in that moment was to be closer to him, for his skin to become your own and your bodies to become one. “Such a good little angle, so wet for me.”

He accentuated his words with thrusts, making sure that you knew just how much you were making him come undone. You moaned into his ear, breathy and needy. He pulled back enough then to reposition your legs from around his waist to over his shoulders, slamming back into you at the same pace. You almost stopped breathing, the new angle somehow hitting you harder than before. You were panting, squeaks and screams coming together to make him lose his mind.

“I need to cum, princess,” he told you, knowing fully well you were not there yet but the overwhelming need to finally let go would not allow him to get you where you needed to be first.

“Please, daddy,” you practically mewled. “I need your cum inside of me.”

“Oh yeah?” he mocked, so far gone that he didn’t hold back anymore. “You want me to cum inside of you? Want me to fill you up and put a baby in you?”

You couldn’t help the guttural moan that erupted and he couldn’t help the grunt that he let out to match it. He was aware of your mutual kink but would’ve never thought in a million years that the thought of having his children would ever get you this riled up. A conversation for another time however, as he buried himself inside of you, grabbing your legs flush against him as he came. You could feel the hot and heavy spend shooting deep into you.

“So good,” you mumbled. “So, so, so, so good.”

His hands released your thighs, letting your legs fall back around his hips as he slowly thrust his cum further into you. It was stupid to think that he could actually get you pregnant, you’d been on birth control for a while and he was aware that even if you weren’t, you would definitely need help from your doctors to do so. But he allowed himself the moment to believe that he could, that for father’s day you would let him breed you, let him give you his children.

You were still panting hard, eyes struggling to stay open as his movements seemed to be lulling you to sleep. He smiled brightly, leaning down again and capturing your mouth with his. Even that didn’t elicit a reaction from you as you simply reciprocated his advances sloppily, eyes still closed. He pulled back, his hands sliding up over your stomach towards your breasts. You didn’t even get a chance to think about what he was doing before his teeth wrapped around your nipple through your bra, tugging harshly. You screamed, your eyes snapping open as you practically leapt further into his mouth.

Your eyes bore into his, surprise quickly turning into lust as he snaked his hands to your back, unclasping your bra and detaching himself from your nipple just long enough to slip the flimsy garment off your body. He pushed you back onto the bed then, one hand toying with one of your nipples as his mouth sucked on the other, his other hand sliding down your body. His thumb made contact with your clit and your hips leapt off the bed, sliding his cock further into you since he was still sheathed inside of you. It usually took him twenty minutes to get hard again but there was something about that night and he found himself growing hard as he continued his assault on your breasts.

You moaned loudly, the air practically getting sucked out of your lungs as he continued to suck on your nipple. His fingers pinched your other one, treating it like your clit and making sure to overstimulate it until you were practically writhing under him. You kept wiggling, your entire body desperately trying to get away from his touch yet also craving it with abandon. He was fully hard minutes later, his hips now snapping back into yours at the same brutal pace as before. He’s got you incoherently mumbling in seconds, your mind even fuzzier than before as all you could think of was the overwhelming pleasure he was showering you with.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” you whimper. “I’m so close, please, please, please.”

You trailed off into more sounds that didn’t quite form themselves into words but he knows exactly what you mean to say.

“Cum, baby,” he speaks against your nipple before biting down on the sensitive bud again.

You’re screaming, thrashing, body shaking concerningly so, as your orgasm crashes over you from your core to your chest to your head. Your eyes rolled back into your skull, your fingers digging deep into the covers below you. It doesn’t build up to anything, it just explodes, fully taking over your body in a way that you haven’t quite felt before. It’s everywhere, from the ringing in your ears to the white spots that cloud your vision – he is everywhere, overflowing all your senses, all your thoughts.

Your walls clench around his length powerfully, milking every last drop out of him, and for the second time in only ten minutes, he’s coming undone inside of you again. He honestly didn’t know he had it in him at his age, but as he feels his cum shooting out of him once more, he becomes a man possessed. He continues to fuck his spend into you, his own aftershocks clashing with yours as your orgasm feels like it has gone on forever. He’s so in over his head, so terribly prepared for how good this feels that he doesn’t know what to do with himself other than feel it all, as overwhelming as it is.

When he finally came down from his high, you were still crashing against yours. He managed to pull out of you, the overstimulation of your pulsing walls against him becoming uncomfortable. That’s when he sees it, the smallest bit of white dripping out of you as the shocks force it out. He watched it ooze out of you, thick globs of white dripping down to your ass. Two of his fingers scoop it up before it can land on the mattress, gently stuffing it back into your hole. He continued to do this, almost mesmerized by the repetition as your breathing evens out and you’re pulling at his arm to get his attention.

He placed your panties over your pussy then, keeping his spend snugly inside of you as he slides back up to meet your needy gaze. He smiled brightly, positively glowing with happiness as he leans down to capture your lips in another lazy kiss. You reciprocate this one passionately, showing him just how happy you are as well, finally getting across just how you’re both feeling.

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to read the rest of the fic so far, more adorableness, a lot of fluff, even more angst (be warned), and many, many more instances of jaw clenching smut, please check out Moments on AO3!

Anyway, go take a cold shower you perverts.

#persephones fic recs #persephone reads

86 notes · View notes

persephonewritessometimes · 10 months

Text

Phenomenal as per usual, I bow down to you🧎‍♀️

Loose Morals

MINORS DNI

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Younger!Fem!Reader (college student)

Summary: You and Jack have been friends for two years when you start having hot dreams featuring his father. Unfortunately, Mr. Hotchner happens to be just your type...

Tags: age gap, daddy issues, migraines, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, implied daddy kink, daddy kink if you squint, praise kink, Jack isn't necessarily a good friend, trauma bonding in a way, masturbation, smut, fluff, etc.

Word count: 11.2k

A/N: I wanted to take a break from editing Vanilla Twilight by writing a short one-shot. The thing is, I don't know when to shut up... Anyway, this ask and this pic inspired me, and I opted to write an entire fic around them. I just really needed to write smut after all the fluff and angst these past few times. I hope you like this one!

Being Jack Hotchner's best friend had its perks.

For one, he was honest and kind, and he was simply different than the rest of the guys your age.

Honesty had always been at the core of your friendship, through your first two years of college, you’d not only found a friend in him, but a brother.

You weren’t sure he saw you as his sister, but you didn’t care. He was still your family.

You were the first person he came out to, and he was the first person to whom you had admitted you had major daddy issues (which you still believed had been caused by not having a father around growing up).

Considering your mother had punched out when you turned 18, Jack was without a doubt the most important person in your life even if you weren’t the most important person in his life.

But being Jack’s best friend was sometimes a curse.

A sharply dressed, tall, and broad man disguised as a curse, that is.

Jack had an incredibly handsome dad, and to make matters worse, Mr. Hotchner was exactly the type you went for when you needed company.

Jack knew you had slept around with older men, he knew what your type looked like, yet he had never once mentioned his dad fit that pattern to a T.

Of course, you knew Mr. Hotchner was off-limits. You’d never try anything, you’d never do anything to jeopardize your friendship with Jack. But you couldn’t help how your eyes lingered on Mr. Hotchner sometimes, and it didn’t hurt anyone to just look.

You could control yourself, but forbidden things always had an extra appeal to them, didn’t they?

It was why, very early on in your friendship, you had reached an unspoken agreement with yourself: You would never spend the night at Jack’s house and you would avoid being alone with Mr. Hotchner at all costs. Thus, when party season was in full effect, you never drank to make sure you could drive yourself home after dropping Jack off.

Ironically enough, Jack loved having you around even more during that time because since you didn’t drink when you went partying, you could always be the designated driver.

Tonight had been no different in that regard, but a recent breakup had made Jack miserable and he had ended up drinking way more than usual.

Bringing him home was something you were happy to do, and each time you did, Mr. Hotchner thanked you profusely for bringing Jack home safe.

Each time, you tried not to make a fool of yourself, and you smiled and left without adding anything.

Truth was, even tired beyond words, Mr. Hotchner was extremely handsome. He was so effortlessly beautiful that you didn't trust yourself not to say something incredibly stupid to his face, and thus you actively chose not to talk to him alone when you could avoid it.

Sure, you could engage in small talk when Jack was awake and responsive, but when he was nearly passed out drunk, you did your best to avoid Mr. Hotchner.

There was something about the way his eyes bore into you that you couldn’t deny you liked, but you often explained it away by reminding yourself that Mr. Hotchner looked at everyone like that, with intense fixed gazes that could remind you of every wrongdoing you had ever committed.

Nothing you had tried had ever stopped you from blushing when you felt his eyes on you, and your high-pitched nervous laugh was only deafened by you chewing your cheeks furiously each time Mr. Hotchner said something nice to you.

You were positive Mr. Hotchner already thought you were a nutcase, or at the very least, that you were too shy and awkward to function properly when you were around him.

So, whenever you could, you avoided him out of self-preservation.

You had had to start evading him more in the past weeks when recurring sex dreams featuring him had started invading your nights.

It didn’t help that you were convinced that he was a sex god walking on two delightfully long legs. It didn’t help that you were sure that he had two muscly thighs that surely showed how he ran every other morning.

You had seen Mr. Hotchner sweaty and breathless only once, with his chest heaving big breaths that drew your attention to how deliciously large he was, and you had risked a glance at his whole body, licking your lips at the sight of his hairy legs, instantly concluding that coming over to study before noon wasn’t going to happen again for the sake of your sanity.

From that day, you had started having torrid dreams about grinding down on his damp thighs, dreams which had startled you awake and kept you on the verge of climaxing. Each time, you had woken up too worked up to care, and you had brought yourself to orgasm with only a few flicks on your clit before you screamed his name into your pillow.

It wasn’t right, but it was the only thing that did it. You had tried thinking of other things, you had even tried watching porn, but nothing worked except thoughts of Jack’s dad.

While it was great to be living alone because it meant that whenever the urge was too strong, you could get yourself off, it also meant that you had absolutely no control or restraint since nothing satisfied your incessant hunger for him, since nothing could scratch that particular itch…

You had managed to break two magic wands in the past three months, so you never stayed home too long when you had nothing to do, too afraid you’d turn into a sex addict.

But then there were the other dreams you were having, dreams way scarier than having Mr. Hotchner get you off.

Those dreams, dreams in which you shared a whole life with Mr. Hotchner, were your favorite. Yet, they were also heartbreaking because once realization hit you, once your mind was clear enough, you knew it would never happen, that it could never happen, and that hurt you a little more every time.

You had had so many dreams in which domesticity was the norm, in which you danced around the kitchen to great tunes while cooking together, in which his arms wrapped around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder, as he hummed and squeezed you into a tight embrace, as he turned you around to kiss your forehead before he told you how much he loved you.

Your longing for him had only intensified in the past weeks as vivid fantasies muddled your mind, and you had had to escape any situation where you would find yourself talking to Mr. Hotchner even when Jack was around just to make sure Mr. Hotchner wouldn’t suddenly realize that every waking thought you had included him.

Mr. Hotchner probably knew most of the signs of attraction. Having been a profiler for the greater part of his life before he got a steady desk job meant that he was talented at observing, and you knew for a fact that he was brilliant and astute. You often chose not to dwell on those facts, instead, you averted your gaze so he wouldn’t read behind your eyes, so he wouldn’t magically deduce how detailed your imagination could be, as if he could know from a quick glance how you had envisioned him around you in every possible position and scenario.

You focused on Jack in the backseat, his blond hair ruffled by the wind coming in through the cracked window. The car smelled like alcohol and bad decisions, and your heart dropped in your chest when you noticed Jack shaking, hearing choked sobs every few seconds.

Fortunately, while you attempted to find the right words, he slumped and grew quiet.

The way it usually went when you brought him home was, you got Jack inside with your spare key, you dropped him on his bed upstairs before you left without making a sound.

But Jack was way drunker than usual, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to make him walk up the stairs by yourself. He was in no state to get himself up the stairs either.

You tried to talk to him to gauge if you could shake him awake just enough to get him up the stairs once you reached his house, but he just muttered strings of syllables.

The closer you got to his house, the more you realized you’d need help bringing Jack upstairs.

He was still mumbling things that made no sense, and you admired how the car ride didn’t make him throw up because he made no effort to hold up his head as he slouched in the back seat.

You chastised yourself for not asking someone to tag along to help you with Jack because now you would have only one option, and you weren’t sure you wanted to wake him.

It didn’t matter what you wanted, though. Jack was your family. You’d do anything for him.

Reluctantly, you asked Siri to call Mr. Hotchner.

He picked up on the first ring and you were relieved that perhaps you hadn’t woken him up by calling at this hour.

“Hi, sweetheart. Is Jack okay?” he muttered sleepily.

Shit. Maybe you had woken him.

Mr. Hotchner often called you ‘sweetheart’ but at this time of night with a husky voice? If this wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever heard…

You berated yourself for being distracted, intently focusing on the road and what needed to be done.

“Hello, Mr. Hotchner. Yes, he is. He’s just too drunk for me to bring him upstairs. Can you come down and help?” you asked, keeping your voice as even as you could.

“Of course. ETA?”

You looked around as you put on the turn signal. “I’m turning on your street.”

“Good. Thank you.”

You hung up just in time to park, getting out of the car swiftly to try to bring a clingy Jack out of the backseat.

Mr. Hotchner joined you before you even noticed he was outside, and a hand on your shoulder made you move back from trying to pick up Jack.

“I got him. Just help me when we get to the stairs, okay?”

You nodded.

It was all you could do because the sight of Mr. Hotchner in pajama pants and a tee shirt was apparently enough to bring your cerebral functions to a halt.

You were unable to comprehend how his hand had even ended up on you and how you could still feel the imprint of his palm on your skin.

Mr. Hotchner grunted from the effort it took to pick up his son, and you did your best not to memorize the sound for later use.

You shut the car door and followed him inside, taking some of Jack’s weight off Mr. Hotchner’s shoulders as you both brought him up the stairs and into his room.

You removed Jack’s shoes as Mr. Hotchner brought the covers over his son’s frame, and you tried not to think about the fact that you made a great team to get Jack into bed so efficiently.

Mr. Hotchner placed a gentle hand on Jack’s shoulder, smiling a little at how unresponsive he was.

Clearly, he found the situation relatable and you wondered if Mr. Hotchner had ever been this drunk when he was Jack’s age.

You found it endearing to see how a good father could be so loving to his grown-up son, and even if it hurt that you had never gotten that, you still loved seeing it when it happened.

“Goodnight, bud.”

You didn’t want to intrude so you made your way out of the room just in time for Jack to mutter under his breath something that made you flinch and stop in your tracks. “I fucking hate you, Dad. It’s your fault Mom isn’t here.”

The room was dark, but the silver sheen of the moon glimmered enough that you could make out most of his frozen features. You saw Mr. Hotchner recoil and you heard his breath hitch.

It was fair to assume his face had probably contorted into a deep frown as you witnessed his arm going up, his palm meeting his forehead.

You knew the story. But you also knew Jack didn’t blame him. He never had. He had always said his father was his hero. You had heard him ramble on and on about how proud he was, and he had almost given you a formal presentation to celebrate him and every achievement of his. Every time he spoke about his dad, his eyes sparkled with joy, and getting to know more about how extraordinary Mr. Hotchner was had never helped lessen your deep-seated infatuation with him. If anything, it only magnified it.

So why was Jack saying this now when his dad had always been his role model?

Had he been lying to you this whole time?

You debated saying something, but in the end, you and Jack constantly called each other out on your bullshit or whenever you were out of line, and this time, he was clearly out of line.

For all Mr. Hotchner’s faults, you knew he was loving and present, and Jack shouldn’t take that for granted. You certainly wouldn’t.

“Jack, what the fuck?” you snapped. You clenched your jaw to abstain from scolding him, it wasn’t your place, but you wanted to bark at him to apologize.

The cold glow shone and lit the room just enough, making it easy to see how Mr. Hotchner’s shoulders dropped, and the silent shock that plagued the room made his bleak expression all the more distressing. Luckily, before you could question your next move, he turned his back so you couldn’t scrutinize how pain stained his gaze.

Jack turned towards you, baring his teeth. His glassy eyes and his jutting chin betrayed a rooted but still gaping wound, sadly mixed with an obscure and previously undisclosed fury. “This is a family matter. Leave,” he snarled.

Jack had never once said anything of the sort to you, and to have him belittle your importance so freely hurt you profoundly.

He was your family, but perhaps he was right, you weren’t his.

You left the room before your vision got too blurry to walk out, and you heard harsh whispered tones before you went down the stairs.

You wiped your eyes and were halfway out the door when a firm hand grasped your arm and brought you back inside swiftly.

Your face met a firm chest and you knew who it was before you could try to hide your tears, and you didn’t care about anything other than comfort right now.

It occurred to you that Mr. Hotchner was probably seeking some comfort too, after all, it couldn’t have been easy hearing his son tell him that.

Your arms encircled his softer middle section naturally, and you banished the thoughts that started to emerge. His tummy was a part of him you longed to cherish in your most lucid dreams, but it was unfair to bask in the sensation of his tall build covering yours because this was simply two sympathetic bruised souls engaging in friendliness.

You shut your eyes for a second, trying to breathe in and out, hoping the pain would subside.

“He didn’t mean any of it. He just gets like this sometimes,” he said softly.

You slightly moved away from the hug, still holding on but barely, aware it wasn’t appropriate for you to indulge too much.

You looked up into Mr. Hotchner’s eyes, and his distant stare and set jaw made your heart ache.

He was hurt. He was holding it together, but he was evidently tormented by trauma, and his tense stance wordlessly confirmed that some invisible wounds lurked and continued to run deep.

His gaze softened all at once as it met yours.

“He loves you. He always says you’re his hero. He even told me he never once blamed you for–”

A tentative hand came up to cradle your cheek, and a flick of his thumb picked up a few stray tears. “Sweetheart, even if he hates me, I’m his dad. I’m always going to love him.”

You forced a smile as tears welled up in your eyes.

You truly admired the father before you, and as much as you felt crushed that Jack didn’t consider you important, you could almost forgive him because it had led to this soothing closeness.

“Are you okay?” he fretted with genuine concern in his voice.

You suddenly realized how close he was, how he hadn’t loosened his hold on you when you had.

You could feel how strong he was every time he breathed, you could smell his aftershave and detergent, and a blaring thought reared its ugly head; his scent and his presence made you feel more at home than anything else ever had.

You couldn’t entertain that thought.

Not now, perhaps not ever.

You moved back, hugging yourself as a chill ran over you. “I’m fine.”

Mr. Hotchner frowned, but he didn’t push it.

Truth was, you weren’t emotionally equipped to deal with any of this.

Jack and Mr. Hotchner would have to be on the back burner for a few days, and you would have to go home to lick your wounds before you would even consider talking to Jack again.

You turned away, opting to leave before you did or said something stupid, but again, a firm hand grasped your arm before you could escape.

“You’re not driving anywhere at this hour and in this state,” he protested.

Fuck.

"I'm just going to sleep in the car," you explained, knowing it wouldn’t work but nonetheless hoping it would.

As if he sensed your discomfort, he released your arm and held his hands up in front of him.

"Just take my bed. I'll take the couch."

Sleeping in his bed? Sleeping where he slept? Sleeping where his scent would overwhelm you?

Considering how often you had dreams about him…

You knew danger zones. And this was one.

Hell, no.

"Oh, no. It's fine, Mr. Hotchner. The car seat reclines–"

He chuckled, startling you with the unexpected sound. "When are you going to stop calling me that? We’ve already talked about this. You make me feel old."

"You're not–"

A small lopsided grin graced his face, and the sight reassured you on the spot. “You can either stay the night or you can finally tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’m not–”

He quirked an eyebrow, and you should have known the profiler would notice you avoiding him at all costs when you used to talk to him a lot more, even if most of the time Jack was present, you still used to interact with him more frequently than you did now.

“It’s nothing you did,” you stressed.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile at that. "Come on. Get some rest. I'll wake you early in the morning if you really want to leave before Jack gets up."

You knew there was no saying no to him, so you nodded and made your way towards the stairs.

You knew where his room was because there weren't many rooms upstairs, and Jack had made you visit the entire house early on in your friendship.

"Goodnight," he breathed as you trodded up the stairs.

"Goodnight, Mr. Hotchner."

You walked into his room and looked down at yourself. Sure, a summer dress would be fine to sleep in, but if you closed the door and slept in your underwear, no one would know.

You discarded your dress before you lay down in the middle of the most comfortable bed you had ever been in.

You shut your eyes, smelling Mr. Hotchner all around you as you had a bit earlier.

It didn't take long for you to find restful sleep, and it took even less time for your mind to drift off to thoughts of Mr. Hotchner.

You were in the throes of the hottest sex dream you had ever had, so close to reaching your peak untouched as you woke up with a glaring pain behind your eyes and at the base of your skull.

Oh, shit.

You were no strangers to migraines. You had had them for years, but getting one when you were far away from your meds, and in someone else's home, someone else's bed...

Someone's bed.

Right.

You had just been dreaming about that particular someone going down on you.

Great.

You needed something for the pain and you knew where the ibuprofen was, so you tip-toed down the stairs, making your way to the main bathroom.

You were trying to look through stuff in the dark when the light was turned on, instantly stilling your movements.

"I'm just– I have a migraine," you stuttered before he could ask what you were doing in his medicine cabinet.

Mr. Hotchner wasn't frowning, and he didn't look unhappy you had woken him up in the middle of the night again, but as soon as you shared the reason why you were awake, he furrowed his brow with concern.

Then he looked up and down at you.

Shit. I'm in my underwear.

Mr. Hotchner raised an eyebrow as he smirked, removing his tee shirt and offering it to you so you could feel less naked.

His gaze made you feel more naked than anything you could wear or not wear.

He was such a gentleman that he gave you his shirt even if he was the one who ended up half-naked next to you.

Well, better him than me.

You put it on and Mr. Hotchner just waited until you cleared your throat to let his gaze fall back onto you.

You tried not to look at his bare chest or at the scars you knew were there.

You failed within seconds, but you had enough decency to make an effort to keep your eyes locked on his face.

"I'm sorry about your migraine, honey. What do you need?" he uttered in a soft hushed tone.

You shrugged, taking two pills from the bottle before looking away and down at your feet. "Cold compress? I don't know."

Mr. Hotchner offered you a glass of water before he moved around you to wet a cloth with cold water, and instead of giving it to you, he just took your hand and made his way to the couch.

He sat with you, facing you with his legs crossed. Somehow, he looked younger sitting like this, waiting for you to join him.

"Put your head here," he said, gesturing to his lap.

You had no idea what to do, but you were in pain and emotionally unstable, apart from being sleep-deprived, and you would never turn down an opportunity to be close to him under those conditions because your judgement was certainly impaired.

You lay down your head in his lap, looking up at him looking down at you.

He placed the cold compress on your forehead, making you sigh in relief as your eyes fluttered close. Gentle hands started massaging the back of your neck, your temples, and your scalp, making you shudder as he pressed on spots where the pain stabbed and blinded you.

For his apparent rough exterior, Mr. Hotchner had a very tender touch, and you wondered in what world it was okay for you to know that.

"How's that?" he pondered.

Your tense shoulders went limp as you relaxed even more, his fingertips rubbing your nape expertly. "Really good," you purred.

You were at his mercy, lax and drowsing in his lap unashamedly.

“I used to get migraines and tension headaches at your age. You know, law school was– I used to be permanently stressed out, living my life on high alert.”

“You?”

“Yes. Why is that so surprising?” he asked.

You opened your eyes to meet his, watching him wait for an answer.

“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Hotchner, but you just look like the kind of person who has it under control all the time,” you stated.

He looked pensive for a split second, but he resumed massaging your temples, removing the cloth and folding it the other way around before putting it back on your skin. He was apparently making sure it remained somewhat cold enough to provide relief. It was a small thing really, but it spoke volumes that he cared enough to do that.

“Not all the time–” he said calmly. “Anyway, I wished I had someone take care of me when I was– and I didn’t so…”

What about your wife?

You let that go as soon as it echoed around in your head. It wasn’t any of your business why Mrs. Hotchner didn’t take care of him when he wasn’t feeling well.

To be fair, you’d always thought marriage was about finding someone you wanted to take care of. Someone for whom you’d cook soup, someone whose tummy you wanted to rub, someone to hold, someone to pet your forehead when you’re feverish. But that was perhaps the daddy issues talking.

He picked up the TV remote, and he offered it to you.

“Do you want to put something on while we wait for the pills to make you feel better, honey?”

You nodded. “Let’s just keep it low.”

That was mostly for your sake rather than Jack’s since he would have deserved to be woken up by a movie blasting in the living room, considering.

He seemed intent on letting you choose so you settled for something corny that wouldn’t require you to focus. You selected The Fault in Our Stars since you had already seen it and you were certain you would be able to follow the story without having to think.

You decided to move before you dozed off in his lap, but Mr. Hotchner just held you down as he stretched his legs on the sofa, leaving you with some leeway to find a comfortable way to lie down while still keeping you close. You shifted on your side, hugging his leg as your face rested sideways on his firm thigh. It allowed you to see the TV while still feeling his warm hand palming your scalp.

You removed the cloth from your forehead after a while, and Mr. Hotchner took it from you before he set it down on the coffee table.

You pretended not to feel him tremble when the movie took a sad turn, and as his hand came up to wipe his eyes, you had to shut yours to avoid getting tempted to offer to lick his tears away.

You also had to compose yourself because knowing Mr. Hotchner was the kind of softie who cried at sad films only made your longing more acute.

Having your head on his leg was enough of a treat as it was. You just had to reel it in and keep a tight lid on whatever it was you felt.

Your plan to compose yourself with your eyes closed completely backfired when you realized you had fallen asleep.

You woke to soft whimpers and a bulge protruding near the side of your head, right before you realized your name was being moaned.

Repeatedly.

You opened your eyes to find Mr. Hotchner asleep in a way that would surely hurt his neck, and he was rock hard next to your head, moaning your name as if chanting it like a prayer.

It's just a dream. It doesn't mean anything.

You turned on your front to fully see what was poking at your head. The tent in his pajama pants was huge, and the flimsy material of his pajama pants did nothing to hide the fact that he was big.

You salivated at the sight, incredibly aware that everything you wanted was within reach.

A particularly throaty moan escaped his lips and this time, when you looked up, he was frowning at you.

You got down on your knees in front of him, making him turn to follow you, letting him plant his feet on the ground, and you weren't sure how to proceed from there but the man had just moaned your name and followed your move on instinct.

He was sporting an impressive erection, and you wanted.

How you wanted.

It didn’t take much but you were done questioning it.

You smiled softly, deciding to bend down and mouth at his clothed cock.

If he really didn't want this, he would have tried to hide, he would have moved, he would have been embarrassed, he would not have been moaning your name, and simply put, he would stop you.

Instead, the second your lips were around his clothed hardness, his hips jerked up into your face and he groaned loudly.

You were thankful Jack was passed out drunk because surely, this would have woken him up.

"Are you sure you want this?" he hissed.

You just mouthed at his dick with more conviction, making his eyes roll back in his head.

His hands ended up at the back of your head, pushing your face infinitely closer.

“I knew from the second I saw you that you had raging daddy issues. Are you about to prove me right, sweet girl?”

You were putting a wet spot on his pajama pants, trying to taste him through layers of clothing. You placed both your hands on his thighs, sinking your fingernails into his hard flesh. Your fingers dug through the material as your mouth moved on him, but you wanted so much more than this.

“Mr. Hotchner–”

“You’re always so formal–” he tutted. He put a tender hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb on your soft skin. “Maybe one day, I’ll have you calling me by the right name.”

You let your hands roam on his bare chest as you continued to wet his pants with your saliva, trying so desperately to get some friction as you started rutting on his foot.

Mr. Hotchner stopped you, palming himself through his pajama pants.

“Please, Mr. Hotchner,” you pleaded, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“If you really want this, come up here,” he said, gesturing to his lap.

You got up so fast your head spun, but you straddled his lap without hesitation, patting his solid chest with determined hands. You felt him grip your waist, and you opted to trace his sideburns with the tip of your fingers before you let your fingers run through his hair.

He groaned instantly, rocking his hips up into you.

Mr. Hotchner leaned down to put his lips on your clothed breasts, savoring each one with warm breaths and enthusiasm, making you moan gently before he looked up at you on top of him.

He cocked his head while you panted above him, desperate to grind down on his erection to get some sort of relief.

His hands were on your rib cage, his fingertips so close to your breasts that even clothed, it felt like he was voluntarily teasing.

“How often I’ve dreamed of having you like this,” he noted, pushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear.

You started grinding down on his lap, making him gasp as you rocked your core against his. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, exhaling hot air onto your face, reminding you how close you were like this. It didn’t take long for your rhythm to falter and for the shirt to ride up your waist.

You were so lost in everything you felt that you had shifted away from his erection and you were left breathing hard as your panties slid back and forth on his hard thigh.

You saw Mr. Hotchner look down, his smirk wide as you both realized how wet you were. You were leaving an impressive spot on his pajama pants through your panties.

“You’re soaking me,” he croaked, his voice betraying he was as affected by this as you were.

You steadied yourself on his chest, feeling his hands grip your waist more forcefully, and without the tee shirt, he’d surely be leaving a mark.

He helped you rub yourself against his thigh, undoubtedly sensing you were consumed by the kind of craving that made you tingle from head to toe.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well,” he praised.

Of all the things he could have said, he happened to say the one thing that made you clutch his chest with biting nails.

“Mmffhm—”

“Oh, you like being called a good girl, sweetheart?”

You started shaking with need, feeling the coil in your stomach heating up and tightening.

His hand came to wrap itself around your throat, his eyes dark and filled with lust. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Mr. Hotchner.”

“Good girl,” he cooed with a smile, releasing your throat.

The flutters in your stomach melted with the burning desire raging inside you.

“Will you touch me?” you stammered, drunk on the feeling of his stiff thigh.

You could probably come like this if you continued.

Mr. Hotchner smiled cheekily, barely ghosting his finger over your drenched panties.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he grunted.

“Please–” you begged.

“I think you can come just like this, sweetheart. For me…”

You knew you probably could. You were close already.

He put his hands back on your waist, guiding your movements on his thigh, watching your hips rock back and forth intently.

“Are you going to make a mess, dirty girl? Am I going to need to wash you?” he asked huskily. “Maybe I should punish you for avoiding me. For not letting me talk to you or look at you.”

You were too far gone to wonder whether it had been as difficult for him to stay away from you as it had been for you to stay away from him.

You moaned as your hips moved without restraint on top of him, rolling them back and forth just right so the friction of your panties rubbed your clit perfectly.

“Oh, god.”

You were so close to reaching your peak, and you felt unbearably hot on top of him. You knew you were soaking his pants, making a mess on his thigh, and the thought of him wanting to wash you, of him being angry and punishing you because you had avoided him… It only spurred you on. The thought of him missing you in the slightest set you alight.

“Look at you, so beautiful wearing my shirt.”

“I’m too hot,” you whined.

“Do you want me to help you with that?”

You nodded eagerly.

His fingers pulled at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over your head, his eyes stuck on your face as you continued to grind down on his thigh. “You’re breathtaking.”

You smiled at the compliment, doing your best to ignore how delightful it felt that he thought you were breathtaking because you were sizzling from the inside with thirst, and you couldn’t deal with the weight of his admission while you chased your orgasm.

“Mr. Hotchner, you are so perfect–”

Lost in all the sensations and the sea of feelings that you were drowning in, he leaned down, his breath fanning over your breasts. He kissed a spot between them so softly, you thought you had imagined it for a second.

“You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he whispered.

The throbbing started to hurt, and you needed a bit more than just his thigh. You unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts, making your boobs bob up and down as you rubbed yourself on his erection a few times.

“Please, Mr. Hotchner.” You didn’t even know what you were asking for, but you needed him to do something.

He grinned at you before he wrapped his lips around a nipple, licking it before sucking on it, making you whimper on top of him.

He brought his other hand up around your throat before he decided to tap on your lips with his digits.

“Suck on them for me, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth, and his index and middle finger sank between your lips. You sucked on them instantly, making him hiss your name as you felt him twitch in his pants.

Mr. Hotchner started licking your other nipple, sucking on it before he nipped at it gently, blowing hot air onto your skin as he alternated between them.

He removed his wet fingers from your mouth, making you whine at the loss before he mouthed at one nipple, pinching the other with his fingertips.

“So good, Mr. Hotchner–”

You shifted again as your rhythm faltered, rutting on his thigh again.

“Do it. Come on my thigh, sweet girl.”

You moaned loudly into the room, unable to keep the sounds from leaving your throat.

“Quiet,” he warned.

“I can’t,” you pouted with a whimper.

“Do you want me to keep you quiet?”

You nodded.

He put his middle and ring fingers into your mouth while his other hand came up around your throat, barely squeezing it, but it was enough. Sucking on his fingers with a hand wrapped around your throat, having him put pressure on your windpipe whenever you were about to be too loud, well, it did wonders.

You spared a thought for your sleeping friend upstairs, but as petty as it was, you couldn’t care less if you woke him right now.

Mr. Hotchner looked at you adoringly, showcasing his dimples as his lips curled into a dazzling smile, and the sight was enough for you to let go, the coil in your stomach ripped to shreds.

Your high came in violent waves as your body was overtaken by sharp shudders.

Yet, you felt as centered as ever when a soft palm tenderly stroked your back.

You opened your eyes, unaware you had closed them, and you found his gaze instantly, watching his hooded eyes, heavy with desire, survey you. He wasn’t scanning you for signs of uncertainty, his eyes simply darted over every inch of your face as if to take in your bliss.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

You let yourself fall forward, reveling in the feeling of him under you, surrounding you with his warmth, his cologne, his soft hands running up and down your back, his fingertips as they grazed your spine and made you shiver in delight.

“Thank you,” you muttered in the crook of his neck.

You’d probably regret this come morning, you’d probably question it, go over it a thousand times, but right now, he felt too solid underneath you to do anything but appreciate his enveloping comfort.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

You weren’t sure if your coming undone on his thigh would be the end of it, but you were thrilled that it apparently wasn’t.

You quietly entered his room with him, watching him lock the door before you let him remove your panties, watching him discard his pants and boxers eagerly.

He was indeed huge, leaking pre-cum and throbbing in need. The head was almost red, and you knew without a doubt that you wanted to take care of him as well as he had just taken care of you.

But Mr. Hotchner took the lead, and you willingly followed. You would always willingly follow him, and as terrifying as it was, the thought helped you draw in a full breath.

It took a matter of seconds for him to hover above you completely naked, and you couldn’t help but cup his cheek, feeling the shadow of a stubble scraping your palm.

He closed his eyes as if to savor it, and you cupped his other cheek, startling him enough to have him look into your eyes.

“You are so handsome.”

He looked giddy and shy for a second, two things you never would have thought to associate with him.

“This is way better than my imagination,” he admitted.

Wait. Had he thought about this too?

“You–” you started, your mind spiraling with a thousand questions.

“Yes, sweetheart. I’ve had to touch myself a lot because of you.”

“Show me?” you prompted.

He searched your features but he surely found you were dead serious about this.

Seeing his huge paw stroke his cock would fuel every last fantasy you would ever use to get off during your alone time.

“You really want to see, sweet girl?” he queried, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yes.”

“I’ll– Okay. But on one condition: Would you say my name?”

From your very first interaction with him, he had insisted on having you call him something other than ‘Mr. Hotchner’, and you had always been afraid that overstepping that boundary would be crossing a line, that you wouldn’t be able to come back from it if you engaged in something less than formal.

You smiled at him, assured that you wished to trespass.

“Aaron.”

“Hmm…” he hummed contentedly. He positioned himself with his back to the headboard, looking at you sitting down between his legs, facing him. He watched your hands caress his thighs before he looked at you again. “Say it again.”

“Aaron.”

He beamed at you, offering his left palm to you. “Spit.”

You obliged him, spitting into his hand a few times before he wrapped it around his erection, immediately mewling your name as he relieved some pent-up pressure.

Watching his hand move up and down on his dick made you swoon, and the level of intimacy of this whole display wasn’t lost on you.

He trusted you.

And you trusted him.

You leaned down to kiss his thighs, watching his hand speed up on his cock as you gently started biting his flesh, making him growl your name above you.

“You’re doing so well, Aaron,” you applauded.

His hips jerked up at the praise, making him thrust into his fist. He not only loved hearing his name, he decidedly loved this, too.

Aaron looked absolutely delicious, and you would have to appeal to every last ounce of self-control you had not to touch him or taste him.

“Ever since you came into our lives, I haven’t been able to get you off my mind,” he declared, and his voice completely mesmerized you as you observed his movements on his cock like a hawk. “Haven’t been on a date. Haven’t had sex. I can’t even watch porn without thinking of you, sweet thing. Fuck–” he added, gritting his teeth. “I don’t even like porn.”

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, your face so close to his cock you could almost taste the tangy salty pre-cum leaking from the tip.

“I touched myself to thoughts of you, too. I touch myself thinking of you. A lot,” you disclosed candidly.

His hand lost its pace when his thighs started trembling, and he grabbed your chin, smiling at you.

“My sweet forbidden fruit.”

You hummed his name again, kissing his thighs in quick succession, biting him gently to elicit deep guttural moans to come flying out of his mouth.

You were positive the soundproofing in this house was decent by now.

“I’m close– Do you want me to come like this, sweetheart?” he asked.

You knew this was Aaron’s way of inquiring where this could go, where the limit was, and whether you wanted this to stop, but you wanted all of it. If this happened only once, you needed to experience all of him.

You shook your head, raising yourself up. “As beautiful as this is, I want more.” You leaned down, kissing his chest gently before you sucked on a nipple, biting it a little as he had done to you earlier. It made him gasp in surprise. “Sorry.”

“No– I– I liked it.” He paused, caressing your face. “Way too much.”

“I want to cherish you. All of you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he uttered smoothly, cupping your face. “We’ll do that some other time. I feel almost ready to explode.”

Another time?

You really wanted another time, more than you cared to admit, and you were beyond happy he wasn’t rejecting the idea of having this happen again.

“I need you,” you blurted out.

He chuckled breathlessly, in no way mocking you but visibly, he was amused by your impatience.

“What do you want? What do you think of when you touch yourself?”

“Just you. Your mouth. Your fingers,” you clarified.

“We can make that happen.”

He flipped you, pulling you down on your back before he started kissing your neck, sucking on your pulse point and making you rock upwards, seeking friction.

Aaron started kissing his way down your body, lending great attention to your breasts again. He licked and sucked before he nipped gently, making you bury your hands into his hair. He groaned against your skin, thrusting his hips into nothing.

“What you do to me…”

He made his way down, kissing your stomach with so much affection that you felt cherished from head to toe.

You’d do the same to him some other him. You promised yourself that right there and then.

You were about ready to lose your mind once he settled between your legs, blowing hot air on your aching cunt.

“Please.”

“Say my name,” he demanded.

“Aaron.”

He grinned before he kissed your inner thighs, spreading you wide and pulling your legs over his shoulders.

“You smell delicious, sweet girl.”

He licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, not losing any precious seconds before he sucked on it, making you rock your pussy onto his face.

He pressed down on your stomach with one hand, keeping you in place. He flicked his tongue over your clit repeatedly, making you arch your back, thrashing against his face regardless of the hand that he kept on you.

You pulled on his hair as he started sucking more vigorously, shaking his head with the movements of his tongue, making you whimper as you bit harshly into your hand to silence your cries.

He whined the more you pulled, and you released your hold on him. Aaron instantly gathered your hand into his and put it back in his hair.

You resumed the motions, this time gently tugging, and he growled against your cunt, making you thrash more violently under him.

The coil started tightening in record time, threatening to tear incessantly, and you were helpless to his oral assault. He seemed to understand his hand was pointless on your stomach the more you moved, and he removed his mouth, licking his fingers before he breached you with one, putting his mouth back where it belonged before you could protest.

He devoured you while he finger-fucked you, and you were left trying to find the right words to express how absolutely wrecked you were. He was ruining you for every other man, and he looked as if he knew it. He looked way too smug to be able to get you off this easily.

He added another finger, arching them into you just so.

You saw stars before you could even warn him, and you came with a loud shudder as you heard him growl your name from between your legs.

He didn’t relent, and when you started whining because of how sensitive you were, it seemed to fuel him. He was trying to milk this orgasm out of you bit by bit, and he was succeeding. Your legs quivered and unexpectedly, you felt a spurt of wetness drip down your pussy and onto his face.

You could barely comprehend what had happened when you got lost in subspace, but the sound of his voice kept you firmly tethered in the here and now.

Aaron made his way up to your face, kissing your cheek so delicately after basically eating you out like a five-star meal.

His face glistened with your juices, and you realized how soaked his face was, how sticky and warm it was, but he didn’t seem to care and you certainly didn’t.

You cupped his face with one hand, letting the other gently pat his hair to make up for the fact that you had pulled on his roots.

He definitely liked having your fingers massage his scalp, he shuddered as you traced his scalp with your fingernails.

He looked at you with a simple question in his eyes, but the only thing you could think to say was, “Please fuck me.”

He met your gaze with a serious look, his frown deepening. “If I take you, there’s no going back, sweet girl. I don’t share.”

He was making a statement but offering you an out. He was opening the door, but he wasn’t letting it close behind you. He was serious about this whole thing, and it occurred to you all at once that he liked you enough to not want to share you.

And while you were ready to agree to anything to feel him inside you, while you needed it like you needed air, you liked him enough to know what you were agreeing to.

What you felt for him was sometimes inexplicable, but there was no denying that you would not want any other man to touch you after this.

You caressed his raven hair once more, smiling at him without a single doubt clouding your mind. Two orgasms would tend to make anyone carefree, but above all else, as bare as you were, you felt safe. Protected. Cared for. At home.

He smiled back when he didn’t find you uncertain, and he kissed your forehead before he moved to find something in the drawer of his nightstand.

If ever this was the one and only time you got to be with him, you needed to feel him. If ever your morals got to you in the morning, if your head went against your heart, you needed to be as close to him as you could.

“Aaron, I’m on the pill. Please… I need to feel you.”

He nodded and positioned himself between your legs again, but something overcame him as you tried to bring his face closer to yours to finally find out how his lips felt against yours.

He flipped you on your stomach as if you weighed nothing at all, a hand found its way to your stomach, bringing your ass up in the air.

On all fours, you felt incredibly naked before him. But he stroked your skin lovingly, and somehow, it felt right. It felt magnificent.

You didn’t feel all that naked anymore.

He tapped his cock on your ass a few times before he breached you with the head of his cock, making you clench around the width unwillingly.

You groaned and whimpered the more he sank into you, stretching you out and splitting you in half painfully slowly.

“So fucking tight–” he grumbled.

A hand settled on your waist, gripping it tightly as you felt him twitch inside you. He would probably leave a mark if he continued to grip your waist this way, but you would admire it for days to come if he did.

Fortunately, you were still dripping wet so it didn’t take long for the pain to subside and blend with pleasure, a dull throb echoing around your inner walls and making you clench around his dick.

He was fully sheathed, but he made sure you remained bent over, your face breathing in his scent on the pillows.

It was intoxicating to be surrounded by all of him, but it was also troubling because you would never get enough.

He slowly pulled out before he drove his cock back in in one go, and it was obvious as you tried to think that you had been rendered dumb and mute by his dick.

“Mmffhm—”

“You feel so good, sweetheart.”

His hips started snapping abruptly, his rhythm unforgiving as he thrusted in and out of you sharply.

Aaron was surely driven by forces of nature or by sheer animal instinct as he gripped your ass cheeks with his hands, chewing your flesh with his fingers.

It felt absolutely amazing to be taken.

It felt empowering to know he was making you his.

“Go on, tell me this pussy’s mine,” he drawled as his thrusts became sloppy.

“Yours. All yours,” you affirmed, chanting his name into the pillows as each thrust of his hips made your cheek rub against the sheets.

His thumb gently tapped on your asshole, letting you know you were at his mercy.

“All those pretty little holes are mine,” he groaned. “You are mine. Say it.”

“Yes,” you whimpered. “I’m yours.”

He let a hand wander down to your stomach before he reached your clit, palming you enough to make you shiver and thrash relentlessly on the bed.

The only sounds in the room were skin tapping against skin, muffled moans, and low groans.

He worked his fingers on your clit with harsher flicks, rubbing and pinching in succession.

“You’re clenching so hard around me, sweet thing. You have a vice grip on my dick.”

You could only partially moan incoherent syllables. “Mmffhm—”

“That’s right. I’m fucking you so good that you have to keep quiet or we’ll make the entire neighborhood.” He punctuated his sentences with harsher thrusts. “One day, though, I’m going to make sure to memorize all your pretty sounds while you beg and scream my name.”

Would there be another time? It wasn’t the first time he had suggested it tonight.

You couldn’t even think straight.

“I can feel your walls fluttering. Is the coil in your stomach tight?” he whispered breathlessly.

You barely nodded and a few soft slaps landed on your ass cheek, making you miss his fingers on your clit, but the sting of his palm was exquisite, sending an electric shiver down your spine before you felt flutters in your chest. Your stomach burned with need, you overflowed with happiness, and you were so close to losing it for a third time.

“Oh.”

“You like that, too, huh?” he teased. He said it as if he was making mental notes of everything that turned you on, and knowing him the way you did, he probably was. He was nothing if not observant, and he would surely make sure to know exactly how to get you off if the occasion presented itself again.

You couldn’t blame him, because regardless of the fact that you couldn’t form a single sentence, you had still taken note of everything that made him moan somewhere. You’d probably even get to revisit those things in your fantasies.

Aaron was all you could think about and he was all you could feel. He was everything that you wanted, and he would be everything you would ever want.

He drove his dick into you with longer thrusts, hitting so deep you saw stars as you chanted his name. He was not just grazing your g-spot, he was actually hitting it with precision every time he sank into you, and when his fingers found your clit again, you had to bite into his pillow to refrain from screaming your lungs out as your orgasm rocked you in waves.

You hadn’t had time to warn him, but it seemed to be a blessing when you felt him still behind you, his deep groans filling the room.

You felt him throb inside you, pulsating with each shot of cum you felt painting your walls.

He seemed to come for longer than you were used to, shaking violently enough to rattle the bed, but you wouldn’t move because you weren’t sure you could, and you wanted nothing more than to have his seed everywhere inside you.

Aaron suddenly let his entire weight fall down on you, seemingly unable to hold himself up any longer, toppling you over before he pulled you close to him as he rested on his side, watching you on your front as he started to delicately trace your spine with his fingers.

He smiled at you lazily, like a man who had just fucked you silly.

He looked proud, but he also looked genuinely happy.

You smiled back, finding it easy to be lost in this silent moment with him.

Nothing needed to be said or acknowledged.

His cum was shoved so deep inside you, his dick had stretched you so good you’d feel it for days, and he was smiling at you with affection in his sparkling eyes.

You didn’t want to wonder whether it would happen again because you were determined to make sure it would.

You remained transfixed for a few minutes, waiting for your trembling limbs to stop tingling.

Aaron started drifting off, but he shook himself awake and he grabbed your hand with determination. “Come on, I’ll wash you.”

You tried to follow him to what looked like an ensuite bathroom, but your legs were too wobbly to sustain you.

“My legs–” you explained as you almost fell face first.

His arms held you up effortlessly, and he just looked way too smug to have made your legs surrender.

“Oh, I’ll take care of you,” he cooed.

Aaron picked you up bridal style without notice as if it was normal to do so, bringing you to his shower as he started it with one hand.

He made it seem easy to hold you up, and you put your arms around his neck, indulging in the proximity he was providing.

He brought you inside the shower once he seemed satisfied with the water temperature, putting you down worriedly, holding you close as you verified that your legs could hold you up.

He was so gentle and careful, you wondered if this was the same man who had just fucked you senseless into the mattress, the same man who had told you to tell him you were his.

The same man who is your best friend’s father.

It came crashing down on you all at once.

You felt guilty, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret any of it.

Truth was, you would do it again.

All of it.

Am I a horrible friend?

It didn’t matter when Aaron was looking at you like you were the most precious thing he had ever held.

He kissed your forehead under the spray, letting his lips linger there before he kissed your nose and hovered above your lips.

You didn’t let him hesitate, knowing he had probably not kissed you until now because this was sacred. This was more. This wasn’t about carnal needs or desires, it was about having a real emotional connection.

It was about acknowledging this was more than just fucking.

You grabbed his head and closed the distance, finally finding out that his lips were soft and sweet, and that his breath was warm and soothing.

You kissed him until he let you graze his tongue, until you sucked on his lower lip, until his knees buckled and you had to hold him up as much as he was holding you up.

He was out of breath by the time you pulled away, his eyes dark but soft.

This time, he was the one who couldn’t find the right words.

“Can I wash your hair?” you inquired.

You knew he liked having your fingers in his hair, and you figured that since you were both wet anyway...

He nodded and kneeled, picking up his bottle of shampoo before handing it to you with a grin.

His eyes gleamed with anticipation, and he hugged your waist as you patted his head, watching how much younger he looked like this. The lines on his face were nothing if not incredibly attractive, but his whole demeanor as he kneeled innocently before you was simply adorable. He looked carefree, but above all else, he was unguarded.

Aaron moved back just enough to let you work, his hands on your legs, looking up at you like a golden retriever looked at his favorite human, with pretty and big brown eyes filled with adoration.

You finished washing his hair and you used his body gel to wash yourself clean swiftly, loving that you would smell like him for hours if you wondered whether your mind had played a sick trick on you when you woke up.

Aaron let his head fall down and for a second, you admired his fleeting vulnerability. You had caught a few glimpses of it tonight, but you knew without a doubt he was having second thoughts because of his son.

He was a good man. You were a good person. At least, you thought so.

And you had both just done something very… questionable.

But questionable shouldn’t feel this good, right?

“He doesn’t hate you, you know,” you whispered softly, hoping to calm the quiet storm which seemed to rage inside him.

You lifted his chin with your fingers, meeting his tender but apprehensive gaze. He wasn’t hiding and he wasn’t panicking, he was just calling his morality into question. You knew because you were, too.

He was completely bare before you, in every way possible. “Thank you.”

Aaron didn’t voice that Jack would probably hate him if he found out about this, and you were grateful for that.

Nothing needed to be said. You had both risked your relationship with Jack tonight.

He didn’t mention that he was concerned that his son already hated him either, but you knew he was worried. To be fair, Jack probably hated the entire world because of his breakup right now, and you didn’t think it had been directed at Aaron in particular. You were both just caught in the crossfire earlier.

While he and Jack had had their fair share of hurt, their relationship wasn’t rocky. You knew that much. After all, you were around for the last two years and not once did you feel any animosity between them.

You got on your knees, hugging him close under the warm spray. Whatever this was, whatever happened, he deserved comfort.

You got out of the shower still holding on to one another, wrapping yourselves up into towels before you walked back into his room.

He offered you a tee shirt before he kissed your crown, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist. “Are you hungry? I could make us something.”

He was so thoughtful, so considerate…

I am in love with him.

It wasn’t a scary realization, it wasn’t even unsettling. It was just there.

“I’m good. Thank you.”

He smiled and put the tee shirt down over your head before he put on a pair of boxers. You wondered what the right course of action was as he got settled in bed, but it became obvious as you watched Aaron opening up his arms to you. You didn’t hesitate and you wrapped yourself around him like a koala, your arms finding their rightful place around his waist.

He kissed your forehead again, his lips lingering there.

“What does this mean?” you finally asked, addressing this pleasant energy between you.

“It means that you should sleep here more often.”

“Aaron–” It still sounded foreign rolling around in your mouth, after all, you had called him ‘Mr. Hotchner’ for over two years, but it was not unnatural. “What are we–”

“I don’t know. Just stay with me?”

“This can’t ever happen again, right? Jack would never forgive us if he found out.”

“Why? He doesn’t want you for himself–”

Wait. How does he know that?

“Sorry?”

"I know my son isn't attracted to women, sweetheart. I figure, when he's ready, he'll tell me."

Apparently, Aaron was as observing as you gave him credit for.

But Jack wouldn’t be mad because he was jealous. He would be mad because he brought you here, and you had betrayed his trust.

“It’s not that. He’s my only friend. He’s–”

“Taking you for granted most of the time. He’s everything to you but–” He paused. He clearly knew how much it hurt you to hear it voiced out loud. “You’re a great friend, honey. He’s not. I know my son. I still love him but he’s not perfect– Look, you might have convinced yourself he was the closest thing you had to a brother, but I’m telling you, a friend– a brother– gives back. You bring him back from parties, you make up cue cards for him when he needs to study, you do some of his essays… When was the last time he did something for you?” He paused again, letting you think. “And if he knows exactly who you are like you think he does, he must know what kind of men you like–” he added, tracing your arm with the tips of his fingers, raising goosebumps as he painted your skin with soft touches. “And still, he brought you here…”

“Aaron–”

He kissed your forehead, angling his body so you could curl into his embrace a bit more. His lips were slightly parted as he looked into your eyes, and a faint taint appeared on his cheeks.

You crinkled your nose in amusement at the sight.

He was buried inside you minutes ago, and now he was blushing because you had used his first name unprompted.

He loved hearing his name leave your lips, that much was obvious from his dilated pupils and long lazy blinks.

“I’ll be good to you, sweetheart. I just need you to let me,” he murmured.

His hand finally sat on your rib cage, and you involuntarily pouted because this was exactly what you wanted, and he was offering it to you on a silver platter without any reservation.

“I just–”

“Sweetheart, we could find a million reasons not to but I want–” He paused, long enough for you to admire his pursed lips and furrowed brow. He was gorgeous self-assured, as you knew, but he was somehow even more stunning when he was insecure. He tugged on the hem of the shirt he had put on you, bowing his head down before zeroing in on your face. A fond expression ghosted over his features, looking at you through eyelashes that should be illegal on a man. “Look, we’ll figure it out, okay? You live alone, we can sneak around and… I don’t know. We don’t have to decide anything just yet, but I’d like to explore this. I really like you.”

“I– uh– yes. Me too.”

He set an alarm on his phone before he kissed the top of your head, squeezing you tightly into his arms.

“Sleep, sweet girl. I’ll wake you. Jack sleeps in till noon when he’s hungover anyway.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

You didn’t miss how his breath hitched at the nickname or how his pulse quickened as you yawned against his chest.

He let out a long breath as his arms engulfed you, lulling you into peaceful safety and unwavering comfort. He played with your hair and massaged your neck, tracing the lines of your face with his fingertips as if he wanted to be able to draw you from memory, effectively rendering you oblivious to the world before you could think of the possible repercussions of what you had just agreed to be for one another.

-------

taglist: @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssa-tahlia-obsessions @rousethemouse @criminalskies @persephonewritessometimes @hotchsdoormat @sweetnightowl @morgthemagpie @a-cloud-for-dreams @midsummur @hausoflove @simp4f1

Join my taglist here.

#persephones fic recs #persephone reads

2K notes · View notes

persephonewritessometimes · 10 months

Text

I'd Die Yours

MINORS - DNI 18+

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!BAU!Reader

Warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Fluff, Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Cute Smut, Aaron Hotchner is my angel, Aaron Hotchner is beautiful, Fluffy Ending, Fluffy Smut, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bloody Kisses, Forehead Kisses, Idiots in Love, Cute, Self-Indulgent, Tender Sex, Not Beta Read, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I don't hate this one yet, please be kind

Word count: 7.5k

No matter how angry he was that you had disobeyed a direct order, you couldn’t care. Disobeying that order had saved his life, and you’d do it again. Without hesitation, you would do it again.

Hotch had ordered you to stay put while he checked the back of the house, but something had been gnawing at you that you had to follow him inside. You would both be in trouble for checking a location without your vests on if things went south, but you would make sure Hotch went home to Jack tonight.

It was Halloween. Jack was waiting for his dad to take him trick-or-treating.

Hotch had mentioned it just this morning at the round table; he and Beth had plans to take Jack trick-or-treating tonight before watching Ghostbusters.

You had ignored the distasteful pang of jealousy and simply smiled as he proffered information about his personal life.

Around the team, you were more than willing to push aside any unprofessional feelings you had for your boss, and you would continue to do so because he was happy.

So when you saw the glint of the blade minutes prior, you pushed Hotch out of the way and took the brunt of it.

You felt the burn of the cold knife enter your stomach, and you felt the tip of it draw your insides as the unsub twisted it into your organs, and the scream you let out was small compared to the blinding pain of having your guts rearranged by a sharp object. You howled again as he pulled out the blade entirely, and the unsub smiled widely as the air started to leave your lungs, leaving you unable to cry out. You were certain the unsub was about to dig the smeared blade into your guts again when you heard the gunshot echo around the room.

You had enough clarity to look over your shoulder, and you saw Hotch with his service weapon drawn, his eyes and furious expression set on the unsub. There was a perfect little hole in the middle of the unsub’s forehead as he fell to the ground, and you were angry he got off so easy. The bastard would have deserved to suffer a little, or at least serve a life sentence without the possibility of parole.

Your knees buckled as you pressed your hands down onto your gaping wound, and while you had never liked blood all that much, you attributed your collapsing to the fact that your nervous system was shutting down unessential limbs to preserve your energy, a somewhat feeble attempt to focus on keeping you alive before you bled out. You were gasping before you even hit the ground, and each sharp intake of air felt like the blade was ripping through you again.

The biting and piercing sensation came in waves, even if the knife wasn’t prodding at your intestines anymore.

It occurred to you that you didn’t fall to your knees like they do in the movies, in fact, you just collapsed like a flimsy building after a violent earthquake.

Strong arms caught you before your head met the floor, but really, passing out due to a concussion would not have been so terrible given the circumstances.

You watched your fingers on your stomach, relieved to find your laborious breathing jolting your bruise because it meant you were still awake and alert, and while the stinging was agonizing, pain denoted living. As long as you would feel this sickening twinge incapacitating you, you would have hope that you could make it out of here alive.

Your extremities started to go numb the more Hotch tried to keep you upright, and you were well aware that meant one of two things: either your blood flow couldn’t reach the tip of your fingers anymore because your blood was pouring out of your stomach alarmingly, and your body was intent on pumping blood to fundamental organs, or you were about to pass out.

Hotch shifted before you could find out, and you felt expensive material on top of your shaky and soaked hands. He put pressure on your wound with his beautiful jacket, a jacket which probably cost more than a month’s rent.

Hotch fished out his phone and dialed, shouting incomprehensible long words at the person on the other end of the line before he placed it on the ground next to you.

"How could you be so reckless?" he yelled while still keeping a steady pressure on your stomach.

It hurt the more he pressed, and he winced as his gaze met yours. You wanted to wail, bawl and roar at the same time.

You weren’t sure whether he actually wanted an answer, but you wanted him to know you were still here, alive and breathing. You wanted him to know that you were still fighting for more time.

You managed a weak smile, and you rested your dripping hand in the middle of his chest. "I’m glad it was me."

You had known Hotch for a few months, and you knew exactly how his eyes narrowed before he set his lips in a straight line when he was angry. You knew how he clenched his jaw and how his frown made the top of his nose crinkle. You knew how he tried to breathe through his nose slowly to calm down when he was irritated.

Hotch was mad. Needless to say, it was not what you wanted to see if it was the last time you saw him.

Yet, you noticed the one detail that had never failed to make his anger toward you tolerable in the past months. His eyes. Your mom had always said that a man with kind eyes when he’s angry is a man with a kind heart.

You weren’t sure whether the dizziness was making you imagine it, but Hotch’s gaze was soft, and most importantly, it was open. Whatever else his face told you, his eyes never lied. He truly cared.

He looked down at your hand, and you realized holding it up was too much effort. You lowered it on top of his, weakly pressing on them to keep the blood from painting the floorboards. There was a perfect handprint in the middle of his chest, and his crisp white shirt was inevitably ruined.

His eyes met yours again, and the throbbing subsided for a split second.

Unfortunately, it came back with a blast, and you were left wheezing, choking on the damp air. Your chest heaved, but you finally inhaled fully for the first time in minutes.

You spared a thought for a fond memory, remembering how you had spilled hot coffee on his lap during your first week with the BAU. He had been angry, probably in pain from the hot beverage scalding his thighs, and he was making the same face he was now, but still, his gaze had been gentle then, just like it was now.

You muted any inappropriate thoughts, and out of the blue, your heart reached out to Jack.

Under normal circumstances, your brain wouldn’t jump back and forth between passing thoughts, but right now, it felt like you didn’t want anything to remain unsaid while having barely enough time and strength to say what you had to.

Poor Jack.

There was no way Hotch would make it to him in time for trick-or-treating after this. Especially if you died in the field.

"I’m sorry for the amount of paperwork this is going to give you," you whispered. Your voice was quiet and hushed, but there was nothing you could do about it. It hurt to talk, it hurt to even think about talking.

Hotch bit his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. It was a subtle attempt to silence whatever it was that was about to come out of his mouth. He shook his head. "There will not be any paperwork. Help is on the way."

You believed Hotch in almost every situation because he was always calm and confident. And while you didn’t know Hotch as well as the other members of the team knew him, you were trained to see subtle shifts and changes in people, and even when you were running out of blood to spill to stain his beautiful jacket, you were still able to see those things.

Hotch pressed down on the wound again, and you gaped at nothing. You were too busy focusing on breathing to cry out.

His gaze was still soft, and what made it all the more distressing was that you were sure you weren’t imagining the tears that welled up in his eyes.

You grasped his forearm with a bloody hand, smearing the hot crimson liquid on his sleeve.

You had to let him know you meant it even if you managed to ruin his entire suit in the process. "I know you wanted to get home early for Jack. Because of me, there will be paperwork. And I’m sorry you had to kill someone. That’s more paperwork."

Hotch pressed down on your wound even more as if to make up for the loss of your hand in the mix, making you whimper as he lifted the suit jacket to take a quick look. He repositioned his hands on the jacket and he put more pressure on it, apologizing profusely as your dry screams filled the room.

Hotch glared at something near you, toward where you assumed the unsub’s body was, and he frowned deeply. "He deserved to die."

Hot tears leaked down from his cheeks onto your face as his hands started shaking on top of you.

By any means, the motion should be painful. Yet, all of a sudden, the pain completely disappeared. It didn’t subside or lessen, it just vanished.

Oh, no.

You knew enough to know that this couldn’t be a good sign.

You felt your eyelids droop and your head started spinning violently.

You heard Hotch holler out your name, and when you opened your eyes again, you recognized how color had totally drained from his face.

You smiled at him, a bit delirious since the pain had left you so promptly. Your brain didn’t seem to comprehend what was happening in the least.

You cupped Hotch’s face, because if it was the last thing you ever did, if it was the last thing you got to do, it would be fine. You would at least die knowing how his cheek felt in the palm of your hand.

"I always thought you were a beautiful man," you uttered, unsure if any sound was actually coming out of your mouth or if you were dreaming up the whole thing. You traced his lips and realized this was happening as he gasped. "I wish I would have gotten the chance to kiss you before I—"

You tried to catch the new tears that tumbled out of his eyes, and when his lips shook under your thumb, you removed your hand.

"I’m sorry. I can’t." His shoulders sagged in defeat as he shook his head.

You nodded but you felt him shift to lie down beside you. He kept a steady hand on your stomach before he brought you closer to his chest, holding you close to him.

His face was only inches away from yours, and you were starting to taste iron inside your mouth. You couldn’t actually check whether internal bleeding was making blood come out of your nose and mouth, but it was a fair guess that it probably was. Soon, it would be too late to do anything.

Soon, you would actually die in the arms of the man you loved without ever getting the chance to tell him how you felt.

Maybe it was for the best. He had Beth, after all. He was happy.

"Where the fuck are the paramedics?" he bellowed, his voice shaking with despair.

As much as you wanted to laugh because he had cursed, it wasn’t often that you had seen Hotch shaken to his core. It wouldn’t be the best time to chuckle because he had used an expletive. If you got the chance, you’d tell him some other time that when he swore, you found it funny.

"Please, kiss me.” You needed to try one last time. You weren’t sure whether you would get to utter another syllable, whether your lungs would ever fill with air again.

Hotch averted his gaze, but he didn’t look uncomfortable. He just looked distraught that help wasn’t here yet.

You had your chance. You opted to shut your eyes, but Hotch cradled your face with a warm hand, and you opened your eyes again to make sure you still could.

He probably realized that if he didn’t do it, he’d be denying you your dying wish. It was scary to look into his eyes and see how he had lost hope, to witness how the calmest and most confident man on the team was rendered speechless and resigned.

His lips met yours, and it didn’t take you a second to realize that they weren’t the lips of a tentative or unsure man. They were the lips of someone who had wanted to do this, too. Lips that moved almost ferociously over every centimeter he could find, lips that parted so he could dart his tongue into your mouth. Lips that traced the sharper edges of your jaw, lips that tasted the spot below your ear, lips that gently kissed your neck until they reached the crook of your shoulder. Lips that were tainted by the warm blood that was coming out of your mouth and nose.

Damn him for giving you the best kiss of your life while you were slowly dying.

He didn’t stop kissing you even if you were aware he was swallowing your blood, and you reciprocated his every move, hopeful he wouldn’t stop a dying woman from getting her last wish.

Your lips were probably chapped and you were no doubt sloppy the longer it went on, mostly because you couldn’t draw in full breaths anymore, but he let you kiss him and you let him kiss you. You weren’t coordinated in the least, you were just trying to keep afloat as you swam in a sea of everything you felt for him.

You weren’t sure if you had imagined the groan that came out of his lips when you decided to taste his pulse point with a few of your teeth, too, but it became abundantly clear that you couldn’t keep on kissing him soon after. You were about to pass out from the lack of air, but if you did pass out from kissing him, it wouldn’t be the worst thing. You would get to die knowing what it was like to kiss the man you loved.

You had a hard time keeping your eyes open as you shuffled your nose closer to his neck, feeling his warmth. You were aware that it clashed with how cold you felt, and you were aware that feeling cold wasn’t a good sign. You smelled his cologne, hoping to memorize the scent, and you gripped his shirt as firmly as you could manage when he kissed the top of your head.

"Please, stay with me."

"I’m a tough motherfucker," you joked. You wanted to lighten the atmosphere. You hoped it would work because he often said it surprised him how someone so kind and delicate could swear this much.

But you felt something hot and sticky, and you knew you were drenching his clothes with your blood. If you had time to make a will, you would make sure to leave enough for him to get his suit dry-cleaned or for him to buy a new one.

"I know you are," he replied, choking on the words. He caressed your back soothingly. "Hang in there, okay?"

This time, tears poured out of your eyes onto his neck. You chuckled breathlessly. "I can’t die. We’re not done here. I’m not done kissing you."

He chuckled breathlessly, too, and he tried to keep you from trembling, but your limbs were mostly lax. If they moved, it wasn’t out of your own volition.

Your mind was still intact, but it was perhaps the only thing that remained unscathed.

What was worse was that you knew the odds. But if you were truly dying, you didn’t want to do it with anyone else. As much as you knew this would be the kind of thing that would haunt him forever because he was like that, Hotch was still your first choice.

He held you closer, planting more kisses on the top of your head. It felt as good as you thought it would, but you were so resentful life wouldn’t allow you to feel him fully.

"Please don’t let go," you pleaded.

"I won’t. I promise."

You weren’t sure when you had drifted off, but you were relieved to wake up to the smell of antiseptic, and you were pleased to hear the steady beeping around you.

You saw Rossi watching Hotch, a careful eye on him next to you.

"Hi," you croaked out.

Rossi’s eyes darted to you, and immediately, you saw a pleased expression appear on his features.

"Hey, kiddo. Gave us a hell of a scare." He paused and pointed toward Hotch. "Especially this one. He hasn’t left since you got here."

You took in Hotch’s state. He was passed out with his face pressed into your hospital bed, close to where he held your hand.

You only just realized the pressure on your hand. He was holding it somewhat loosely in his sleeping state, but he was still holding on. Just like he promised.

"Is he–" You weren’t sure what you were asking.

Hotch had changed, at least. You owed him a new suit, that was for sure.

"I had to pry him off you to get him to change his clothes. Scared the nurses and doctors. Oh, and he threatened to have medical licenses revoked if he couldn’t stay with you."

Oh. If he stayed here all this time, it meant…

Shit.

"He missed Halloween because of me."

"I think that was the least of his concerns, honey. You almost died. We weren’t sure you were going to make it for a while."

Hotch shifted slightly, and he groaned deeply as he stretched his back and his arms. Surely, sleeping crunched over a plastic chair couldn’t have been comfortable.

His eyes met yours, and his breath hitched in his throat as you watched the look of realization and relief when he saw you were awake.

Rossi left as soon as Hotch started to wipe his eyes, and you cradled his face, watching his sunken eyes regain a little spark as you swiped some tears away.

He let his thumb graze over the back of your hand, his hand totally enveloping yours, and when he kissed your inner wrist so gently, you weren’t sure you hadn’t just imagined it. His eyes navigated between yours, darting to every inch of your face. You were suspended in time. The air was heavy, loud with memories and unspoken words.

Should you address your small confession? The kiss? Did he feel the same way? How can he explain kissing you like he did? What about Beth?

All the questions almost gave you whiplash, and they managed to give you the start of a headache. Hotch answered every question you had when he apparently made the decision to get up and leave the room without looking back.

You didn’t know whether he was still angry or whether he was satisfied enough that you weren’t going to die, but he left you there without another word.

He let go.

You spent four weeks getting back on your feet, and another two doing light desk duty. You spent six weeks not knowing whether you had dreamed up the whole thing where Hotch kissed you. You spent six weeks wondering if your mind had played a sick trick on you as you were bleeding out.

You were at the team meetings when the unit was home, you still suggested cases and you still worked as a profiler from the comfort of Garcia’s lair.

You were still a part of the team, even if Hotch made it a habit not to interact with you all that much.

Then came the day when you were cleared for field duty as long as you didn’t go running after anyone anytime soon. You would get to travel with the team again, so there was that.

You dropped off the paperwork on Hotch’s desk, and that’s when you heard Hotch mention to Rossi in passing that Beth was debating taking a job in Hong Kong.

You and Hotch had still not talked about what had happened between you, or what you thought had happened, and his distance made you wonder if there was something to talk about.

Nonetheless, Hotch had remained the spitting image of professionalism in the past weeks. He had even been overtly professional. He had stopped calling you by your first name, he avoided looking at you, and he didn’t mention you owed him a new suit.

You were debating discarding the whole thing and explaining it away as a dream when after dinner one night, you heard a faint rasp of knuckles on your door. You weren’t sure who would show up at this hour, but you still opened the door.

Hotch got in and closed the door behind him. He seemed out of breath, his shirt was rumpled, his hair was in disarray, and the dark circles under his eyes told you he hadn’t slept in days. He even had a shadow of stubble painted on his cheeks.

He looked nothing like he usually did, and it almost frightened you that he looked so upset that his image was affected. It did nothing to reassure you when you heard a sob escape his throat.

Six weeks you had hoped for a moment alone with him. Six weeks you waited for him to talk, to address whatever had happened, if it had happened. Six long excruciating weeks. Six weeks where you had doubted your own mind.

He finally met your gaze, and you knew within seconds you hadn’t imagined anything. He had kissed you, and he had kissed you like a man who meant to kiss you.

"I told Beth to take that job in Hong Kong."

Sorry, what?

"It wasn’t fair to stay with her anyway," he added.

Did you hear that right? Were you imagining things or was he saying something you really wanted to hear? Yet, for all the hope simmering in your chest, you also felt burning rage.

"How dare you? How can you show up here six weeks after– I thought I had imagined the whole thing, and now you left Beth?"

Hotch furrowed his brow, and guilt was seeping out of his pores. "Technically, she left me. At my prompting."

He didn’t seem to care you were glaring daggers at him, and he approached you and he put a gentle hand on your stomach. He knew exactly where the wound was, and he put his other hand on your heart as if to make sure it was still beating. You’d never push him away, angry or disappointed, it didn’t matter. He was still the man you loved. He was still the man who didn’t let go of your hand. He was still the man who kissed you because you both thought you were dying.

"Please don’t ever do that again," he mumbled.

"Ask you to kiss me?" you joked.

He shook his head. "Almost die in my arms."

You put your hands on top of his. "If it means you’re going home to your son, Aaron, I’m going to do it again."

Neither of you commented on the fact that you had used his first name. Neither of you broke eye contact.

"Why?"

He knew why. This was just a formality at this point.

"Same reason you told Beth to take that job."

"I need to hear you say it."

You beamed at him, finding it easy to do so as you thought of finally saying those words out loud. Even after the past six weeks, you were itching to finally tell him. "I love you. More than I will ever love myself. Happy?"

He grabbed your face to plant his lips on yours and this time, you responded in kind, savoring each inch of his lips the way you had wanted to for so long. You nibbled on his lower lip in no time, allowing yourself enough space to let your tongue graze his. His hands roamed your back before settling around your waist to bring you closer to him. Your chest was so delightfully melting against his, and it felt so wonderful to finally feel his hard chest collide with yours that you moaned loudly into his mouth.

Aaron started kissing the outline of your jaw with so much care that you almost felt precious, and when his lips faintly tasted your neck, you buried your fingers into his hair on instinct.

The groan it elicited was definitely the kind of sound you wanted to hear again.

You gripped his shirt firmly and you brought him toward your bedroom without a second thought. You didn’t stop kissing him like you’d die if you couldn’t, and when you grabbed his belt to unbuckle it, he grabbed your wrists firmly, stopping you.

He searched your eyes for any sign of uncertainty. "Are you sure?"

You nodded enthusiastically. "I’m fine. I was cleared for physical activities. I need– Plus, it took you long enough."

"I’m sorry…" he lowered his head and looked down at his feet, and it shattered your heart into a million pieces because, for a split second, he looked awfully sad.

You raised his head by cupping his face, giving him a reassuring smile. "It’s fine. We’ll talk about it later. You’re here now."

He smiled back at that.

You couldn’t resist his smile.

It took a few seconds, but you were back to kissing one another as if to make up for lost time.

This time, when you reached for his belt, he let you remove it. When you unzipped his pants, feeling him stretch the material a little, he allowed them to drop to his feet. He stepped out of them to remove his shoes and socks, and he let you remove his jacket, his tie, and his shirt, leaving him standing in an undershirt and boxers before you. His heaving chest and his tight boxers didn’t do much to conceal his growing desire, but Aaron looked absolutely perfect. He always did.

You palmed him through his boxers if only to make sure this was actually happening. His hips thrusted into your hand on instinct, and a guttural groan escaped his glistening lips.

"What do you want?"

You hooked your thumbs into the waistband, feeling his hot skin caress your digits. "You. Just you."

Aaron beamed at you before he pulled you closer, hugging you so firmly against him that you almost thought you were about to slip away.

He let tentative fingers pull at the hem of your shirt, and you gathered he was nervous or self-conscious. Either way, you put a hand in the middle of his chest to feel his thundering heartbeat, hoping it would be enough to center him.

"Get me naked," you instructed, keeping your tone as tender as his hands on you.

Aaron proceeded to remove every piece of clothing you had on your back with the utmost care, and you did the same.

It wasn’t intimidating to stand in your bedroom naked with him. It felt achingly normal to let your eyes travel over every part of him. To appreciate the work of art before you. One day, you’d attempt to memorize how every scar felt under your lips, where every freckle was, and you’d find out every spot where you could raise goosebumps.

Aaron was acutely observing you, too. You could feel a lovely chill run up your spine as he eyed you up and down with affection.

He finally set his gaze on the angry scar on your stomach. To be fair, it looked a lot better this way than when it was an open wound. He could probably tell since he had seen it in both states.

He traced the outline of the raised edges of the scar with his fingers, and you were still a bit too numb to feel the featherlight touches, but you knew he was careful not to press on the outer parts of it, the parts that still ached sometimes.

You knew why he was good at subtly touching it. You were familiar with how he got the nine scars on his chest and stomach.

You wondered if someone had lightly traced his bruises the same way he was doing for you because it felt like he was fixing you altogether.

You opted to offer him the same simple treatment; caring for each of his wounds and thanking them for not taking him away from you while still wanting to hurt anyone who had harmed him.

By the time you wrapped your arms around his waist, he was out of breath and a bit teary-eyed, but he was wearing an endearing smile.

He cupped your face delicately, his smooth thumbs slightly brushing your cheeks. He leaned forward to kiss your forehead, and you let out a shaky breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

"Thank you," he whispered against your forehead. He kissed it tenderly again, letting his lips linger on your skin.

When you leaned in for another kiss, Aaron carried you over to the bed. He lowered himself on top of you while carefully shifting his weight away from you.

You encircled his waist with your legs because you needed to feel all of him, and he didn’t resist your attempt to pull him closer.

He wasn’t fully hard anymore, but you could feel him harden against your stomach the more you kissed, and with each skilled movement of your tongue in his mouth, he hardened even more. He was a talented kisser, which you already knew, and you loved his tongue as much as he seemed to love yours. You kissed him hungrily until you felt his cock positively twitch.

He was large, and he was throbbing. It would be a stretch, but how you wanted him to split you in half right about now.

But Aaron continued to kiss you like a starved man, and he continued to gather the spit in your mouth, mixing it with his and giving it back to you.

You wondered if he could sense how soaked you were as he rutted against you. You wondered if he could tell how dripping wet you were for him.

His hands were caressing every part of you as you kissed, and when you noticed his lips were as red and swollen as yours from all the kissing, he started kissing his way down your neck, tracing your jaw with his lips.

You were helpless to do anything but moan by the time he sucked on your pulse point, and Aaron started leaking pre-cum onto your stomach the more he thrusted against your skin to get some friction. You reached between you to grab his dick to jerk him off a little, wanting nothing more than to feel the weight of him in the palm of your hand, and to ease the pull he so clearly felt.

"Will you fuck me?"

Aaron grunted loudly, following the movement of your hand on him, his hips apparently moving of their own accord as you eased the pulsating ache.

"What about–"

You knew he meant foreplay and preparation, but right now, if you didn’t get to feel him, you might actually die.

"Let’s not waste any time. We can explore later. I just need to feel you."

He surveyed your features, and you knew he could see the burning lust in your eyes as easily as you could read it in his.

"Condoms?" he asked huskily.

"Bedside drawer."

He moved to pick one out and he opened it to roll it down onto his erection. You took it away from him, rolling it down onto his cock yourself.

He hissed as your hand delicately pulled it down on him, and you felt him twitch in your hand as you gave him a few strokes.

"We don’t have to do this. I could–"

"Just… fuck me? We’ll have time for foreplay next time. I need to feel you. Please."

You didn’t want to assume there would be a next time, but you were desperate to feel him breach you. He was larger than most, and it would probably hurt a little, but you were soaking wet and you didn’t want to fuss over foreplay when all you wanted was to feel him.

You needed to feel alive in his embrace, and you had to make sure you weren’t dreaming, and even in your most detailed dreams, you had never felt him enter you.

Aaron repositioned himself between your legs, catching your leg and brushing the skin gently as he settled it around his waist again, making your other leg follow.

He grabbed his cock to align it with your soaked entrance. He waited a few seconds, fingering your entrance and making you gasp in pleasure. He removed his fingers and he brought them to his mouth as if satisfied that you were wet enough to take him, and he gave you a heartwarming smile before he licked his fingers clean. You were mesmerized by the whole display, fantasizing about his tongue on you already.

"So wet and delicious for me," he said under his breath.

Still, you heard him loud and clear.

He slowly sank the head of his cock in, and the sting was glorious because pain denoted living.

Inch by inch he nestled his dick inside you, rubbing your clit so adeptly with his finger that you couldn’t help but chant his name, and his pulsing dick was so pleasant as it finally rested deep that you were scared you were about to come without him having moved at all.

His big and pretty brown eyes were set on you, sparkling with adoration, and you were left speechless by how much he could say without making a sound.

He was buried to the hilt, clearly waiting for you to adjust and breathe as you clenched around his length, surely waiting for you to let him know he could move.

He leaned down to kiss you, trapping his hand between your bodies as he still managed to flick your clit expertly. His weight on top of you centered you in the here and now, and when Aaron took one of your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours, you tightened your hold around his waist with your legs. You touched his neck, giving it a gentle squeeze as you nodded, burying your fingers in his nape, right at the bottom of his hair. He almost whimpered, a soft and graceful sound you weren’t sure a tall and strong man like him could make, but you’d find out over and over again if he let you.

He started moving, snapping his hips at a slow and torturous pace, hitting sharp spots and almost blinding you with the amount of stars he made you see.

You felt him hit the deepest spot anyone had ever reached so easily on repeat, and each time he slowly grazed it with the tip of his cock, it drove you absolutely insane. You arched your back under him, desperate to get more of it. He picked up the speed with his finger on your clit, his hand movements surely restricted by his body pinning you down, but he still thrusted in and out of you like a man who had all the time in the world to discover you.

It felt absolutely amazing to feel the contrast of fast and rough on your clit, but lazy and tender hitting your g-spot, and before you knew it, you were pulling on the bottom of his hair and shouting his name like a prayer, clenching your pussy involuntarily around him and moaning incomprehensible syllables as the coil in your stomach was torn loose.

Aaron was messily continuing his slow assault, affected by your mind-shattering orgasm as he gripped your hand tightly, making your fingers go numb between his, and when you craddled his cheek fondly, he gazed into your eyes lovingly.

Again, he said so much without a single word leaving his mouth.

"Let go, angel." You weren’t sure when you had decided he was your angel, but it was the only logical explanation as to why you were still alive and feeling him right now.

Aaron moaned and his hips snapped and stilled, and he let his head fall down in the crook of your neck just as a loud but warm groan was blown on your skin. You grazed the back of his head with your nails as you kissed his sweaty temple, brushing his hair as his cock continued to twitch inside you.

He took a while to pull out, surely savoring this as much as you were.

He slowly came down from his orgasm, and you held him through it, patting his back appreciatively. You kissed his forehead before he slipped out, and you were relieved he kept the condom firmly in place as he moved out.

He sat on the edge of the bed, holding his softening dick.

"Don’t move."

You got up and went to get a tissue and a flannel. You wiped your legs from your own juices, and you cleaned your cunt as best as you could. You took another flannel, you soaked it in lukewarm water and you went back to the beautiful man sitting on your bed. You gently removed the condom from his limp dick and you put it in the tissue you had grabbed before you binned it.

You smiled lazily at Aaron as you washed off the semen from his cock with the utmost care, making sure not to make this unpleasant or overwhelming, and you kissed his forehead again when you were done.

Two could play the tenderness game.

You discarded the flannel and pulled him down to lie down in bed with you, still unsure what that look on his face was.

Then it occurred to you that he probably wasn’t used to what you just did.

It was a shame because he deserved it.

He moved slightly just to be at eye level with you, much like the position in which he had kissed you the first time, but this time, no one was dying. "I love you, too, you know."

"You do?" you pondered, only just noticing he hadn’t said it back yet.

"You never gave me a– If I had known–" he started, caressing your face as if you were a fragile sculpture he didn’t want to break.

"You were–" in love with another woman.

As if he heard the rest of your unspoken thought, he interrupted you. "No. I wasn’t– I think I’ve loved you ever since you spilled coffee all over my lap."

You had questions, and you figured you’d ask later. Instead, you laughed at the memory. How embarrassing that had been.

"It was so embarrassing."

A small kiss landed on your forehead as he took a deep breath. "I thought you handled it pretty well."

"You know, I spilled it because I thought I caught you smiling at me."

"Really?" he asked in disbelief.

You patted his cheek as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You know you have a lovely smile, right?" He smiled fully then. "Exactly. Beautiful."

"I thought you looked absolutely adorable all flustered by the way."

"Adorable?” you paused, scrunching up your nose. “I’m not adorable."

"You are. Among other things." He smirked right before he started to make his way down to your core.

"Oh yeah?" you asked breathlessly, your body thrumming with anticipation.

"You’re also sexy." He planted a kiss on your thigh. "Beautiful." Then a kiss on your other thigh. "Brilliant." A kiss landed on your stomach. "Funny." He kissed your pussy before he licked up a stripe from your entrance to your clit.

"I love a man who can use adjectives," you moaned. His lips circled your clit, and he began sucking harshly. "Fuck!"

"Hmm… and I love a woman who can curse elegantly."

You proceeded to use every expletive you knew in all the languages you spoke just to make sure your moans were filled with elegant curses.

He started pumping a finger in and out of you, curving it into you as he licked and sucked on your clit, as his tongue did wonders on your little nub of nerves. Your legs shook violently, the coil in your stomach tightened, and you moaned loudly as your back arched off the bed.

"Fucking hell, Aaron!"

"Music to my ears," he muttered with a smug grin that made his eyes crinkle right before he dove back in with renewed vigor.

You realized in the aftermath of another mind-blowing orgasm that you were ready to learn every possible way to curse if it made him this happy.

You felt soft kisses on your thighs and you sighed happily.

"I fucking love you."

"Foul mouth… I love fucking you, too," he replied with a cheeky grin. The faint lighting in the room was enough to see how his cheeks tinged with a cute blush, and it was obvious he had heard you correctly.

This was the kind of dry humor no one knew he had, well, some people knew, but you were delighted to be one of the few who knew for sure. To many people, his sense of humor was a myth, much like the Loch Ness monster was a myth. But to you, his laugh and his humor were always real, and you were a firm believer in the magic of laughter.

You scoffed but Aaron planted a smooth kiss in the middle of your scar before you could say anything else.

"I fucking love you, too," he added. "I just wish I had known before–"

You kissed him hungrily without losing a beat, not letting him think or blame himself for not knowing you had been in love with him since you had first shaken his hand. You cupped his face, letting your thumbs graze the start of a rough stubble.

You weren’t sure what the etiquette was for this, you had both confessed your love for one another but was this going to be…

No.

You wouldn’t ruin this moment with questions. You weren’t sure questions could even ruin this, but Aaron didn’t give his love easily, you knew that much, and if he said he loved you, you were certain enough that questions could wait.

You scrunched up your nose at the use of the swear word. "It’s so weird to hear you swear."

He frowned as if he didn’t comprehend why it was weird to hear him swear when he was the epitome of professionalism. Well, most of the time, at least. "You do it all the time."

"Yes, but I’m me."

"Do you want me to shut up then?" He waggled his eyebrows, leaving nothing to doubt.

The shivers that had overtaken your entire body had barely subsided, and he wanted…

No way.

The raw desire in his eyes was as evident as the rain hitting the windows.

"I can’t—"

"Sure you can," he cooed. He was gentle but clearly still hoping for more. You weren’t sure you had another in you but he was clearly determined to try as his tongue got to work. "Besides, I’m only making sure that you are alive. I need to do it repeatedly because you scared the shit out of me. So I’m going to learn every sound you make until I’m satisfied you’re alive and well. And fair warning, that could take many many years. I might have to do this until you stop swearing. Or until I’m sure you’re so full of life that you can overflow with it. Maybe until we put another life in there, too. Hmm…" Was he suggesting an entire life? Kids? It didn’t matter as his tongue flicked over your aching cunt, lapping generously at your juices. "But for now, I’m going to take my sweet time, and I’m going to make sure I can feel your heartbeat in there. Any objections?"

"Never." You smiled at him as your hips bucked into his mouth, oversensitive and whimpering. You still thrashed against his face, wanting nothing more than to ease the dull throb in your pussy.

Aaron let his tongue graze your clit gently, and your body tensed up with pleasure, instinctively leading you to trap his face between your thighs.

You weren’t sure you wouldn’t die trying to get another orgasm, but by now, you knew without a doubt that you’d do anything for Aaron, risking your life included.

taglist: @ssa-tahlia-obsessions @rousethemouse @criminalskies @persephonewritessometimes @hotchsdoormat @sweetnightowl @morgthemagpie @a-cloud-for-dreams @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch

Join my taglist!

#persephone reads

1K notes · View notes