gemstone-roses
callous and strange, occasionally.
Gem, 20s.i write and i read.
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Thankyou so much ♥️♥️ glad you enjoyed it!
Please
Cooper Howard x fem reader
Summary: smut, pet names, praise kink, unprotected sex, choking , I know, I know, radiation poisoning? Hush, this is FICTION. Your on my blog and you’re surprised at this? No you’re not. minors be gone from here thankyou. 18+ only. It’s basically just smut. Mentions of a minor shoulder injury. No plot just smut. No spoilers.
Note: Not much background, I started this before I had surgery and wanted to get it posted, I watched most of this show whilst recovering from surgery and, off my t. I’m gonna preface this with it’s definitely not my best work, but when I feel bad I write, so please be kind as always 🥹Anyway. Enjoy. 🫡. Likes comments and reblogs much appreciated. I am not responsible for your media consumption.
I am in Spain without the s.
You’re not friends. You tolerate each other. That’s it. He pushes your buttons and you irritate him just by being in his presence. Anyone looking from the outside would think the two of you were sworn enemies, that’s not right though. He always comes back for you. He insisted on doing this bounty alone, you insisted on going with him.
Now your clutching your shoulder trying to pretend your not in pain and he is seething.
you lean against the rotted wood in the decaying structure you’ve holed up in for the night. It crumbles behind you and you huff.
“I told you to stay behind on this one” he thumbs the rim of his hat, sighing as he takes in the state of you.
“yeah well, I’m fine”. You whisper, not wanting to look at him.
“Y’ not fine! Look at ya” he steps in front of you, encasing you.
“I’m okay, it’s just a little bruise” you say defiantly, looking to meet his gaze.
“ya coulda’ died sweetheart” his voice cracks slightly as he speaks, scarred hands hovering over the thin material of your t shirt, he presses his hand gently into your shoulder, rubbing his thumb across the skin.
Your breath hitches at the contact.
“don’t feel dislocated” he mutters, his fingers still gently probing your shoulder.
“Mm, told you I was fine” you say. His head snaps to yours, his hand gripping your jaw, he tilts his head down slightly, snarling.
“You ain’t half got a mouth on you sweetheart” he tuts, thumb swiping over your cracked lips.
His eyes meet yours again and you can see the internal debate he’s having in his head.
“There’s plenty more I can do with my mouth” you whisper. And that’s it, that does it for him, he brings your face closer to his and kisses you. His other arm pulls you into him, his erection pressing against you making your core throb. He’s got an iron grip on your jaw but the kiss is gentle, slow, testing. You open your mouth, inviting him to go further, his hand around your waist traces the curve of your ass as he kisses you, you moan into his mouth and he grips onto you tighter.
“Please” you breathe , your body flooding with need at his teasing touches.
“What honey?” He smirks, breaking the kiss as his hand travels up your waist. he slips his hand under your shirt, caressing your bare side slowly.
“Touch me” you choke out, failing to keep the desperation from your voice.
“Oh, I am touching you honey” his voice tinged with amusement. He waits, keeps caressing your side, never venturing further, he keeps your gaze, watching as his every movement has you silently pleading for more. Your lips parted slightly, chest heaving. He smirks, he can play the long game if needed, he wants to see how long you’ll wait before begging.
“Just this lil touch is driving you crazy huh” he mutters, splaying his hand across your stomach, hovering just above where you needed him most. You grit your teeth, raising your brows, and he tilts his head, a lazy smile across his face.
“You need me to touch you here?” His fingers press delicately over your underwear.
You nod, and whimper.
“I can’t hear you” he drawls, tapping his fingers lightly over your core, over the wet patch that’s formed.
you lean into him, head resting on his shoulder. “Yes, fuck, please” you beg, and he your underwear to the side and presses a finger into you. He curls it instantly, making your legs buckle slightly. His free arm wraps around you tight, pulling you into him as he pushes his finger in and out of you.
“Mm, you’re very wet honey, this all for me?” he teases , pushing another finger into you, and your pussy throbs at his words. He smiles, speeding up his movements while whispering praise into your ear. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, your orgasm building.
“Shit- m gonna” - you pant, and he stops. You whine at the emptiness, frown at him before he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.
“Mm” he groans. “As much as I’d love for you to come all over my fingers, I’d rather you came wrapped around my cock sweetheart”. You clench your legs together hoping for some relief.
“Lie down for me honey”. He instructs. You do, the wood beneath you creaks slightly, he takes off his jacket and tucks it behind your head. He hooks his fingers in the waist of your pants before pulling them down, slowly, he’s savouring this.
When he’s removed them he stands back, admires you.
“Well shit, your stunnin’” he sighs as he undoes his belt. You try and roll over to cover up, shy all of a sudden. “No no honey none of that” he tuts. Reaching for your neck he wraps his hand around it and squeezes slightly. He studies your face as your eyes blow wide, and he smirks. He removes his hand far too quickly for your liking though.
You watch, enthralled as he takes out his thick cock before kneeling in-between your legs. He taps the tip of his cock on your puffy clit a few times, making you jolt.
He chuckles. “Sorry honey, I like seeing ya writhe for me”. He leans in, steadying himself with one arm on the floor beside your head. The other wraps around his cock as he lines up with your hole. You tense as he begins pushing his cock into you.
“Deep breath sweetheart” he soothes, you relax slightly as you do and he buries his cock all the way inside you.
“Oh fuck” you choke, he’s not even moved yet and already pleasure is coursing through every inch of you.
He groans as he starts thrusting. His hand coming to cup your face, he runs a calloused thumb across your jaw as he watches your face contort with pleasure.
“That feel good sweetheart?” He pants, leaning in to nip at your ear. You respond with a moan, unable to form a proper word.
“Cooper” you whine, wrapping your arms around him, the rough of his skin adding to the pleasure he was making you feel. His cock twitches at the use of his name.
“Your squeezing my cock so damn good” he breathes, angling his hips so he hits deeper.
“mm fuck that - there- , don’t stop” you cry, the coil in your stomach building.
“Yeah? You gonna come honey?” He taunts, his mouth twitching, pleased.
“look at me” he growls, he holds your face as he stares into you, his eyes blown wide with lust as he thrusts his cock in and out of your dripping pussy.
“Keep, your eyes, on me” each word punctuated with a thrust of his hips. Your eyes roll back as tears prick the corner of your eyes, you cry out in pleasure as your orgasm starts to wash over you.
He leans into you again, his hot breath making you shiver as he whispers into your ear.
“Scream for me” he snarls, his hand snaking around your throat as he pushes into you harder, and squeezes the side of your throat just right as your pussy tightens around him, he chokes out a moan and spills inside you as you convulse around him.
You stay like that for what feels like hours. Him still inside you, his head lay on your chest as your fingers dance up and down his back comfortable silence broken every now and then of him whispering sweet words to you.
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Him wiping readers tears 😭 I LOVE THIS oh my god. He’s so sweet and caring I love the way you’ve captured that! I need more bodyguard deac asap!!
A/N: Hi! So, this story has been in the works forever. I've always wanted to write for Deacon. I've always wanted to write Bodyguard!Deacon specifically. It's something I've thought about from the very beginning of my journey with Swat. I find it important to clarify that this is an au. The events that take place in this story are completely and utterly my own. They are made up and not true. I hope that, as readers, you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Rating: 18+ MDNI
Pairing: Bodyguard!Deacon x f!Reader
Reminder: This is a bodyguard au. It in no way relates to the actual plot of Swat.
Warnings: mentions of injuries, violence, death threats. There are no explicit descriptions of the readers' body type or other features. Brief use of the word 'her', reader is not named, and there is no use of y/n. Mutual pining, use of the word sweetheart.
Other characters: Jim Street, Dominique Luca, Daniel "Hondo" Harrelson
Word Count - 3.2k
Author's Note 2: If I forgot any content warnings please let me know. Once again I hope anyone who reads this story enjoys you. Feedback, reblogs, comments, likes are all welcome and much appreciated. I'm really putting myself out there by posting this story. It's personal and something I'm so passionate about. Happy Reading!!
Disclaimer: I do not condone people taking my work and reposting it as their own. Do not steal my work.
Adding some visual inspiration for the people who care💕
In the Beginning
When you first began working with criminals, you never expected your life to be threatened. Sure, there were risks of taking a job like this, but all you were asked to do was to determine whether or not a person was classified as fit to go to trial. That meant oftentimes you had to postpone hearings and trials due to a person's mental capacity.
You understood how upsetting it could be and you understood why people would blame you for justice not being brought forward. It was easy to empathize with those people, but it didn't mean your life needed to be in danger.
The first night your life was threatened you were just getting home from a grueling day in the office. Your feet ached and your stomach grumbled. Upon your arrival home you found a note taped to your front door. You tilted your head inspecting the letter before you ripped it off the door. Bile rose in your throat as you read the letter.
I will kill you for what you've done
The note was scribbled haphazardly and hardly legible, but you were well aware of what it said. Never in your four years of working had you needed to go to the cops. People you'd worked with time and time again.
The Los Angeles Police Department was unhelpful when it came to answering your pleas. It wasn't until you went to your childhood friend Jim Street that you were finally heard.
You hadn't seen Jim in over 3 years. After he left for swat the two of you hadn't had much time to get together anymore. You spoke occasionally, but had no time to really see each other anymore.
When you showed up at his door he was surprised to see you. The greeting was cut short, you were rushed and scared. As you explained everything to Jim, Luca, Jim's roommate and coworker listened carefully. He was actively trying to think of a way to get you helped out.
"What about Deac's security business?" He piped in.
The two of them looked at one another.
They spoke briefly to one another about their old coworker. Explaining to you how Deacon departed from SWAT and took up doing security details full time. You nodded as you listened to them. It wasn't a bad idea, but you didn't know how long it would be before something would take place.
As if they heard you in your head they had already made the phone call. Luca spoke briefly with someone on the phone, you assumed it was Deacon. Jim smiled softly at you, trying his best to give you some kind of comfort.
You stayed with Jim and Luca while you waited for Deacon to arrive. You felt safe with them and you took advantage of the opportunity to rest. With eyes closed you lulled to sleep for the first time in days.
Your slumber was rudely interrupted by a warm hand on your shoulder. The action made you jump, and your eyes searched for the culprit. Jim smiled at you sheepishly, apologizing with his eyes more so than with words.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He told you.
"It's okay, just, jumpy is all." He nodded his head in understanding.
"He's here." Jim stated.
You got up and followed Jim out of the den and back into the living room. Luca talked to another man, you assumed it was Deacon.
Luca turned when he saw you come into the room. His face lit up, he had already accepted you as one of his people.
"Hey Deac, this is her." He patted the man on the shoulder and he turned to face you and Jim.
You hadn't paid him much attention before he turned, but you were shocked to say the least. He was a surprisingly handsome man, and it made your heart pound in your chest.
In the few seconds before Luca introduced the two of you, you allowed your eyes to trace over him. The hair on his head was mostly gray aside from the occasional dark strand here and there, his beard joined in the majority of gray. The black t-shirt he wore hid no ounce of his muscled form. You wondered if he wore a shirt two sizes too small on purpose.
A clearing of a throat disturbed your thoughts. You blinked rapidly and pulled your eyes away from Deacon. Luca introduced the two of you and you shook Deacon's hand. Heat creeped up your neck as he stared down at you, with a soft smile.
The smile slowly faded and he crossed his arms over his chest becoming serious.
"Luca tells me you need some protection? Care to explain the story to me a little bit?" He asked.
You nodded, and took a seat on Luca and Jim's couch. You explained the story to him as thoroughly as you could. Jim grabbed your shoulder in comfort a couple of times when the emotions overwhelmed you.
"This isn't the usual detail my team and I take on, but you're a friend of a friend. I'll make sure you're safe. I'll work on this personally." He nodded to you and to Jim.
Tears welled in your eyes.
"Thank you Deacon." He smiled and nodded again.
"Of course. Now, first things first. You need a safe house of some sort while I work with my team to track down the people after you. Is there somewhere you can think of that won't be public knowledge?" He asked you.
You thought about it for a moment before you nodded.
"I do.”
Present
The cabin air was frigid as you made your way back inside. Placing the firewood in its rightful place you take a piece and set it on the fire. Rubbing your hands together you enjoy the warmth seeping into your skin. A car pulling into the driveway draws your attention away from the fire.
Getting up you make your way to the window on high alert. Your guard falls when you spot Deacon getting out of his car. You watch as he scans the area before coming to the front door. He knocks twice on the door and you go over to it to open it.
When he enters he hands you the bag in his hand.
"What's this?" You ask.
Deacon smiles softly, "Dessert." He states and you peer inside.
Your smile widens upon seeing apple pie and vanilla ice cream in the bag.
"Damn, Deacon, I'm surprised you got something so unhealthy." You laugh.
He shakes his head, "I eat ice cream."
"Doesn't look like it." You mutter to yourself.
"What did you say?" He asks.
"Nothing. Ignore me." You shake your head.
Taking the bag into the kitchen you unload everything into the freezer. You notice dishes still left over from this morning in the sink and go over to wash them. Under the running water your thoughts drift over the past 2 months.
It felt like nothing was happening. You felt stuck, and frozen. Like a prisoner with nowhere else to go. This was meant to be for your own protection, but being stuck in your family's old cabin in the woods was driving you to madness. Plus, being stuck here with Deacon, alone for all hours of the day was testing every amount of strength and willpower you have. Which was just about none when it came to the older man.
Since the beginning of month 2 things have felt different between the two of you. In month one Deacon wouldn't even sit on the same couch as you. He always sat in the chair furthest from you at the small table in the dining room, and he never looked at you for a moment more than necessary.
Now, something was different.
He sits next to you on the couch and actually joins you when you watch tv. Now, he doesn't hide his lingering gaze, nor does he sit in the chair furthest from you when you eat. The subtle changes in his behavior drove you mad.
From the very beginning you were heavily attracted to him. Now, even more so.
"Hey," Deacon's voice draws you from your thoughts.
"You okay?" He asks. Coming forward and leaning against the counter.
Your eyes are drawn to the way his arms bulge as he crosses his arms over his chest. You gulp and look away.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
He chuckles and leans forward, your breath catches in your throat as you look up at him. He switches the water off and leans back against the counter. You let out a breath and close your eyes.
"You were washing the same dish for 10 minutes. Obviously something is wrong." He states.
"10 minutes?" You ask and he nods.
You let out a deep sigh and grip the edge of the sink. Tears well in your eyes and you decide not to hold them back any longer. You let yourself cry and put your head in your hands as you lean on the sink. Deacon touches your back and you allow yourself to lean into it. He rubs soothing circles on your back and allows you to cry.
After a while you sniffle and wipe your face.
"I'm sorry." You wipe at your eyes and look over at him.
His smile is sad as he looks at you. Deacon swipes a stray tear from your cheeks and cups your face in his hand. He leans in as if he's going to kiss you but, then the moment is broken when something clicks in his head and he pulls away clearing his throat.
"Don't be sorry. I'm gonna go contact my team. See if there's any updates." With that he exits the kitchen.
Fuck. You think to yourself.
For the rest of the day Deacon avoided you like the plague. It made you feel even worse than you already did. Loneliness pangs in your chest as you sit on the couch and aimlessly scroll through the channels.
Deacon busts into the room and you jump.
"We have to go now." He states, throwing your jacket at you.
Jumping to your feet you throw the jacket on and follow Deacon to the back of the cabin. You grip his jacket tightly in your hand trying to stay close to him. He turns and looks at you, pressing one of his fingers to his lips.
He opens the door quietly and inches out slowly. Deacon grasps your hand in his and drags you out into the woods. The two of you run for a while before he stops.
"You see that ridge up there?" He asks pointing.
"Yes," You pause looking at him.
"Go. Get up there and hide. Don't come out until I come get you." He instructs.
You grip his arm. "Deacon, what if you don't come back?"
He grips his phone in his back pocket and places it in your hands.
"Call, Street. Tell him where we are. Tell him to send the team." He states.
You nod, with tear filled eyes, and trembling lips. Releasing his hand you take off up the hill and hide. Pulling Deacons phone out of your pocket you dial Jim.
"Hey Deac,"
"Jim, it's me. Deacon told me to tell you to send the team. Hurry Jim. I'm scared." You sob.
"Where are you?" He rushes out.
"Near the Oregon border." You stutter out.
"Keep the line open, we're tracking Deac's phone." You nod, but he can't see you.
Gunshots could be heard in the distance. Tears fall freely now, rolling down your cheeks.
"Got it, we're on the way. Stay hidden." He urges and the line goes dead.
You pull your knees as close to your body as you can trying to hide away in the dark nook. The gunshots fade in the distance and your heart races faster. Every part of you wants to run and see if Deacon was okay, but you listened and stayed put.
After what felt like forever a helicopter could be heard overhead. Staying in your hiding spot you close your eyes and hope they make it to you soon. You were freezing.
After a few more minutes you could hear voices and footsteps. Some shouting out how many people were dead, others asking where Deacon was. You heard Jim's voice in the distance calling for you. Now you got up from your hiding spot and went tumbling down the hill. You ran as fast as you could back in the direction of the cabin.
"Jim!" You yell his name when you finally see him.
He comes running towards you and you slam into him. Hugging him tightly, tears once again falling freely. His hand goes to the back of your head as he holds you close.
When you pull away you search his eyes seeing if they hold anything.
"Where's Deacon?" You ask.
There it was. Jim averts his eyes from you for a brief moment. Something the normal eye would never pick up. You grip his arm tightly.
"Jim please, tell me." You beg.
"He's alive, but he's been shot. Plus some other injuries. He wasn't conscious when we wheeled him out of here." He tells you truthfully.
Your shoulders sag. "Is he going to be okay?" You ask.
"We don't know yet. Come on, let's get you out of here." Jim wraps his arm around you.
"But, it's not safe." You stop.
"It is now. Has he not told you?" Jim asks.
You tilt your head. "What do you mean?"
"Deacon, and his team were able to locate the men who threatened your life. He had me, Hondo and the rest of the team go in and take them down." He pauses for a moment.
"Some got away. They had found your location and we couldn't get to them before they left. We were just barely able to warn Deacon before they showed up." He finishes.
You haven't cried this much since your childhood pet died when you were 16. A part of you died that day with him. Now, here you were crying over a man you may never get to see again because he too might be dead.
Jim leads you to the helicopter and helps you get in the seat before doing so himself. You watch the land below get smaller and darker the higher into the air you go. Jim grabs your hand and squeezes it for a moment. You know it was him trying to comfort you. Jim had never been good at that.
Being able to go back to your home felt wrong. It was crazy to think that two months living in the unknown would change your entire view on your life. You desperately want to go to the hospital to see Deacon. Make sure he's okay for yourself, or see for yourself he's not okay.
Jim agrees to take you to the hospital. Upon arrival you notice how many people were there for Deacon. He was held in high regard amongst his former teammates. It was a sight to see.
Someone calls your name and you look in the direction of the voice. The man you knew as Hondo approaches you.
"We've heard a lot about you. It's nice to finally meet you." He tells you with a genuine smile.
You nod, unable to form words of any kind. Your throat was sore and scratchy. Making it feel impossible to speak at the moment. You need water. Once again reading your mind, Jim appears with a bottle of water in hand. You smile thankfully at him.
"Thanks." You croak out.
You find a seat and wait with the rest of the people in the waiting room. The hours tick by as all of you wait for an update on Deacon.
Three hours after you get to the hospital a doctor comes out of the OR doors. Everyone stands, and the doctor's eyes widen.
"Are all of you here for Mr. Kay?" He asks.
Everyone nods. The doctor takes his glasses off and wipes them before adjusting them to his face once more.
"He's going to be fine. Recovery will suck, but he will recover. Gunshot wound, cracked ribs, fractured arm, the list goes on. It's a good thing he has all of you." He nods.
"Can we see him?" Your quiet voice pokes through the crowd.
"It's after visiting hours, but I can allow one of you back." He states.
You expect someone to go back and see him, but when no one does you step forward. Jim nods at you. You found it odd the people who have known Deacon the longest would allow someone who's only known him for two months be with him while in this position.
The doctor nods and gestures for you to follow him. He leads you down the hall of hospital rooms and stops when he reaches Deacon's door.
"I'll have them bring in some blankets and pillows. If you don't plan to stay, let me know." He states.
"No, I'm staying." He nods and leaves.
You examine the small hospital room. The monitor beeps to the rhythm of Deacon's heart. This is the first time you've seen him in over 5 hours. You weren't sure if you ever would.
Taking him in you frown at the sight of him. A bandage on his left cheekbone, busted lip, a splint on his right arm. He was a mess, all because he was protecting you.
You pull the chair over to him and sit down beside him.
"Damn you, Deacon." You whisper.
You grab his open hand into your own, looping your thumb around his. He didn't close his hand around yours, but that didn't matter. Feeling his pulse thump in his wrist was enough. You lean your head down and place it on the bed, closing your eyes. Allowing yourself to take in his warmth. Meaning he was very much alive.
A nurse enters the room and gives you a soft smile before setting up the small bed in the corner of the room. You silently thank her. Your eyes snap to Deacon when you feel his fingers wrap about your hand.
His eyes are just barely open as he looks at you.
"I'm sorry." He croaks out.
"Sorry? Why are you sorry." You raise your eyebrows at him.
"Scaring you."
"Deac, you saved my life. You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who needs to apologize. I'm the reason you almost died." You grip his hand tighter.
He laughs, then groans in pain.
"It was my job sweetheart. You don't have to apologize either." He reassures you.
"I guess we both need to stop apologizing." You laugh out.
"I guess so." He gives a small smile.
You rub his arm softly and he watches you do so.
"You should get some rest." You tell him as you stand up.
He watches as you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. Your breath catches in your throat as you linger a moment longer contemplating things in your head. His beard scratches your cheek as you loop your arm around his neck in an awkward hug.
"I'll be right here if you need me." You tell him.
He nods. Flicking the light in the hospital room off you make your way to the small bed in the corner and try to sleep.
"Goodnight Deac."
"Goodnight Sweetheart.”
Tagging a few who may want to read it : @obiknights @chelseasdagger @streakyglasses
A big big thank you to @spnshortcake for encouraging me to post this. I'm grateful for you. Thank you love ❤️.
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Thankyou SO much you are too sweet omg!!
sorry for inhibiting your function 🤭 I’m so so glad you loved it! 🥰
Please
Cooper Howard x fem reader
Summary: smut, pet names, praise kink, unprotected sex, choking , I know, I know, radiation poisoning? Hush, this is FICTION. Your on my blog and you’re surprised at this? No you’re not. minors be gone from here thankyou. 18+ only. It’s basically just smut. Mentions of a minor shoulder injury. No plot just smut. No spoilers.
Note: Not much background, I started this before I had surgery and wanted to get it posted, I watched most of this show whilst recovering from surgery and, off my t. I’m gonna preface this with it’s definitely not my best work, but when I feel bad I write, so please be kind as always 🥹Anyway. Enjoy. 🫡. Likes comments and reblogs much appreciated. I am not responsible for your media consumption.
I am in Spain without the s.
You’re not friends. You tolerate each other. That’s it. He pushes your buttons and you irritate him just by being in his presence. Anyone looking from the outside would think the two of you were sworn enemies, that’s not right though. He always comes back for you. He insisted on doing this bounty alone, you insisted on going with him.
Now your clutching your shoulder trying to pretend your not in pain and he is seething.
you lean against the rotted wood in the decaying structure you’ve holed up in for the night. It crumbles behind you and you huff.
“I told you to stay behind on this one” he thumbs the rim of his hat, sighing as he takes in the state of you.
“yeah well, I’m fine”. You whisper, not wanting to look at him.
“Y’ not fine! Look at ya” he steps in front of you, encasing you.
“I’m okay, it’s just a little bruise” you say defiantly, looking to meet his gaze.
“ya coulda’ died sweetheart” his voice cracks slightly as he speaks, scarred hands hovering over the thin material of your t shirt, he presses his hand gently into your shoulder, rubbing his thumb across the skin.
Your breath hitches at the contact.
“don’t feel dislocated” he mutters, his fingers still gently probing your shoulder.
“Mm, told you I was fine” you say. His head snaps to yours, his hand gripping your jaw, he tilts his head down slightly, snarling.
“You ain’t half got a mouth on you sweetheart” he tuts, thumb swiping over your cracked lips.
His eyes meet yours again and you can see the internal debate he’s having in his head.
“There’s plenty more I can do with my mouth” you whisper. And that’s it, that does it for him, he brings your face closer to his and kisses you. His other arm pulls you into him, his erection pressing against you making your core throb. He’s got an iron grip on your jaw but the kiss is gentle, slow, testing. You open your mouth, inviting him to go further, his hand around your waist traces the curve of your ass as he kisses you, you moan into his mouth and he grips onto you tighter.
“Please” you breathe , your body flooding with need at his teasing touches.
“What honey?” He smirks, breaking the kiss as his hand travels up your waist. he slips his hand under your shirt, caressing your bare side slowly.
“Touch me” you choke out, failing to keep the desperation from your voice.
“Oh, I am touching you honey” his voice tinged with amusement. He waits, keeps caressing your side, never venturing further, he keeps your gaze, watching as his every movement has you silently pleading for more. Your lips parted slightly, chest heaving. He smirks, he can play the long game if needed, he wants to see how long you’ll wait before begging.
“Just this lil touch is driving you crazy huh” he mutters, splaying his hand across your stomach, hovering just above where you needed him most. You grit your teeth, raising your brows, and he tilts his head, a lazy smile across his face.
“You need me to touch you here?” His fingers press delicately over your underwear.
You nod, and whimper.
“I can’t hear you” he drawls, tapping his fingers lightly over your core, over the wet patch that’s formed.
you lean into him, head resting on his shoulder. “Yes, fuck, please” you beg, and he your underwear to the side and presses a finger into you. He curls it instantly, making your legs buckle slightly. His free arm wraps around you tight, pulling you into him as he pushes his finger in and out of you.
“Mm, you’re very wet honey, this all for me?” he teases , pushing another finger into you, and your pussy throbs at his words. He smiles, speeding up his movements while whispering praise into your ear. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, your orgasm building.
“Shit- m gonna” - you pant, and he stops. You whine at the emptiness, frown at him before he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.
“Mm” he groans. “As much as I’d love for you to come all over my fingers, I’d rather you came wrapped around my cock sweetheart”. You clench your legs together hoping for some relief.
“Lie down for me honey”. He instructs. You do, the wood beneath you creaks slightly, he takes off his jacket and tucks it behind your head. He hooks his fingers in the waist of your pants before pulling them down, slowly, he’s savouring this.
When he’s removed them he stands back, admires you.
“Well shit, your stunnin’” he sighs as he undoes his belt. You try and roll over to cover up, shy all of a sudden. “No no honey none of that” he tuts. Reaching for your neck he wraps his hand around it and squeezes slightly. He studies your face as your eyes blow wide, and he smirks. He removes his hand far too quickly for your liking though.
You watch, enthralled as he takes out his thick cock before kneeling in-between your legs. He taps the tip of his cock on your puffy clit a few times, making you jolt.
He chuckles. “Sorry honey, I like seeing ya writhe for me”. He leans in, steadying himself with one arm on the floor beside your head. The other wraps around his cock as he lines up with your hole. You tense as he begins pushing his cock into you.
“Deep breath sweetheart” he soothes, you relax slightly as you do and he buries his cock all the way inside you.
“Oh fuck” you choke, he’s not even moved yet and already pleasure is coursing through every inch of you.
He groans as he starts thrusting. His hand coming to cup your face, he runs a calloused thumb across your jaw as he watches your face contort with pleasure.
“That feel good sweetheart?” He pants, leaning in to nip at your ear. You respond with a moan, unable to form a proper word.
“Cooper” you whine, wrapping your arms around him, the rough of his skin adding to the pleasure he was making you feel. His cock twitches at the use of his name.
“Your squeezing my cock so damn good” he breathes, angling his hips so he hits deeper.
“mm fuck that - there- , don’t stop” you cry, the coil in your stomach building.
“Yeah? You gonna come honey?” He taunts, his mouth twitching, pleased.
“look at me” he growls, he holds your face as he stares into you, his eyes blown wide with lust as he thrusts his cock in and out of your dripping pussy.
“Keep, your eyes, on me” each word punctuated with a thrust of his hips. Your eyes roll back as tears prick the corner of your eyes, you cry out in pleasure as your orgasm starts to wash over you.
He leans into you again, his hot breath making you shiver as he whispers into your ear.
“Scream for me” he snarls, his hand snaking around your throat as he pushes into you harder, and squeezes the side of your throat just right as your pussy tightens around him, he chokes out a moan and spills inside you as you convulse around him.
You stay like that for what feels like hours. Him still inside you, his head lay on your chest as your fingers dance up and down his back comfortable silence broken every now and then of him whispering sweet words to you.
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Please
Cooper Howard x fem reader
Summary: smut, pet names, praise kink, unprotected sex, choking , I know, I know, radiation poisoning? Hush, this is FICTION. Your on my blog and you’re surprised at this? No you’re not. minors be gone from here thankyou. 18+ only. It’s basically just smut. Mentions of a minor shoulder injury. No plot just smut. No spoilers.
Note: Not much background, I started this before I had surgery and wanted to get it posted, I watched most of this show whilst recovering from surgery and, off my t. I’m gonna preface this with it’s definitely not my best work, but when I feel bad I write, so please be kind as always 🥹Anyway. Enjoy. 🫡. Likes comments and reblogs much appreciated. I am not responsible for your media consumption.
I am in Spain without the s.
You’re not friends. You tolerate each other. That’s it. He pushes your buttons and you irritate him just by being in his presence. Anyone looking from the outside would think the two of you were sworn enemies, that’s not right though. He always comes back for you. He insisted on doing this bounty alone, you insisted on going with him.
Now your clutching your shoulder trying to pretend your not in pain and he is seething.
you lean against the rotted wood in the decaying structure you’ve holed up in for the night. It crumbles behind you and you huff.
“I told you to stay behind on this one” he thumbs the rim of his hat, sighing as he takes in the state of you.
“yeah well, I’m fine”. You whisper, not wanting to look at him.
“Y’ not fine! Look at ya” he steps in front of you, encasing you.
“I’m okay, it’s just a little bruise” you say defiantly, looking to meet his gaze.
“ya coulda’ died sweetheart” his voice cracks slightly as he speaks, scarred hands hovering over the thin material of your t shirt, he presses his hand gently into your shoulder, rubbing his thumb across the skin.
Your breath hitches at the contact.
“don’t feel dislocated” he mutters, his fingers still gently probing your shoulder.
“Mm, told you I was fine” you say. His head snaps to yours, his hand gripping your jaw, he tilts his head down slightly, snarling.
“You ain’t half got a mouth on you sweetheart” he tuts, thumb swiping over your cracked lips.
His eyes meet yours again and you can see the internal debate he’s having in his head.
“There’s plenty more I can do with my mouth” you whisper. And that’s it, that does it for him, he brings your face closer to his and kisses you. His other arm pulls you into him, his erection pressing against you making your core throb. He’s got an iron grip on your jaw but the kiss is gentle, slow, testing. You open your mouth, inviting him to go further, his hand around your waist traces the curve of your ass as he kisses you, you moan into his mouth and he grips onto you tighter.
“Please” you breathe , your body flooding with need at his teasing touches.
“What honey?” He smirks, breaking the kiss as his hand travels up your waist. he slips his hand under your shirt, caressing your bare side slowly.
“Touch me” you choke out, failing to keep the desperation from your voice.
“Oh, I am touching you honey” his voice tinged with amusement. He waits, keeps caressing your side, never venturing further, he keeps your gaze, watching as his every movement has you silently pleading for more. Your lips parted slightly, chest heaving. He smirks, he can play the long game if needed, he wants to see how long you’ll wait before begging.
“Just this lil touch is driving you crazy huh” he mutters, splaying his hand across your stomach, hovering just above where you needed him most. You grit your teeth, raising your brows, and he tilts his head, a lazy smile across his face.
“You need me to touch you here?” His fingers press delicately over your underwear.
You nod, and whimper.
“I can’t hear you” he drawls, tapping his fingers lightly over your core, over the wet patch that’s formed.
you lean into him, head resting on his shoulder. “Yes, fuck, please” you beg, and he your underwear to the side and presses a finger into you. He curls it instantly, making your legs buckle slightly. His free arm wraps around you tight, pulling you into him as he pushes his finger in and out of you.
“Mm, you’re very wet honey, this all for me?” he teases , pushing another finger into you, and your pussy throbs at his words. He smiles, speeding up his movements while whispering praise into your ear. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, your orgasm building.
“Shit- m gonna” - you pant, and he stops. You whine at the emptiness, frown at him before he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.
“Mm” he groans. “As much as I’d love for you to come all over my fingers, I’d rather you came wrapped around my cock sweetheart”. You clench your legs together hoping for some relief.
“Lie down for me honey”. He instructs. You do, the wood beneath you creaks slightly, he takes off his jacket and tucks it behind your head. He hooks his fingers in the waist of your pants before pulling them down, slowly, he’s savouring this.
When he’s removed them he stands back, admires you.
“Well shit, your stunnin’” he sighs as he undoes his belt. You try and roll over to cover up, shy all of a sudden. “No no honey none of that” he tuts. Reaching for your neck he wraps his hand around it and squeezes slightly. He studies your face as your eyes blow wide, and he smirks. He removes his hand far too quickly for your liking though.
You watch, enthralled as he takes out his thick cock before kneeling in-between your legs. He taps the tip of his cock on your puffy clit a few times, making you jolt.
He chuckles. “Sorry honey, I like seeing ya writhe for me”. He leans in, steadying himself with one arm on the floor beside your head. The other wraps around his cock as he lines up with your hole. You tense as he begins pushing his cock into you.
“Deep breath sweetheart” he soothes, you relax slightly as you do and he buries his cock all the way inside you.
“Oh fuck” you choke, he’s not even moved yet and already pleasure is coursing through every inch of you.
He groans as he starts thrusting. His hand coming to cup your face, he runs a calloused thumb across your jaw as he watches your face contort with pleasure.
“That feel good sweetheart?” He pants, leaning in to nip at your ear. You respond with a moan, unable to form a proper word.
“Cooper” you whine, wrapping your arms around him, the rough of his skin adding to the pleasure he was making you feel. His cock twitches at the use of his name.
“Your squeezing my cock so damn good” he breathes, angling his hips so he hits deeper.
“mm fuck that - there- , don’t stop” you cry, the coil in your stomach building.
“Yeah? You gonna come honey?” He taunts, his mouth twitching, pleased.
“look at me” he growls, he holds your face as he stares into you, his eyes blown wide with lust as he thrusts his cock in and out of your dripping pussy.
“Keep, your eyes, on me” each word punctuated with a thrust of his hips. Your eyes roll back as tears prick the corner of your eyes, you cry out in pleasure as your orgasm starts to wash over you.
He leans into you again, his hot breath making you shiver as he whispers into your ear.
“Scream for me” he snarls, his hand snaking around your throat as he pushes into you harder, and squeezes the side of your throat just right as your pussy tightens around him, he chokes out a moan and spills inside you as you convulse around him.
You stay like that for what feels like hours. Him still inside you, his head lay on your chest as your fingers dance up and down his back comfortable silence broken every now and then of him whispering sweet words to you.
#cooper howard x reader#ghoul x reader#fallout x reader smut#cooper Howard x female reader#fallout imagine#the ghoul smut#walton goggins#fallout tv series imagine
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I'm curious. Reblog this if you know how to cook
I don’t even care if it’s macaroni, ramen or those little bowls you stick in the microwave. Please, I need reassurance that most of the population on tumblr WOULDN’T STARVE TO DEATH if their parents couldn’t fix them food or they couldn’t go out to eat.
#I can cook#ish#fucked up tea so badly I had to order in last night though#ITS NOT MY FAULT IM STRESSED OKAY#I can bake though so points for that???
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oh my gosh thankyou so much! ♥️♥️ yes I imagine he is so aware of how you react and feel and I love that ❤️
Safe
Summary: Geralt talks you through your orgasm.
As promised, I finished my essay, and as voted for by several of you, this was the fic you wanted posted first!
Warnings: smut, 18 + only! minors be fucking gone from here ! Vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, hurt/comfort, use of good girl, soft Geralt. Praise kink, brief mentions of panic. You know the drill. Female reader.
Please note I am not responsible for your media consumption.
The white haired Witcher encases you beneath him. His muscly arms holding steady on either side of you. His amber eyes show nothing but adoration for you as he thrusts his cock inside you.
“You’re doing so good for me” he groans, his thick cock twitches as you tighten around him.
It’s been hours, not that your complaining of course, Geralt exploring every inch of you with his fingers, his tongue, muttering praise and comments on how gorgeously stunning you are.
“Geralt” you whine, your pleasure building, your stomach beginning to swirl as it starts to cloud your mind.
“Your close” the Witcher observes, angling his cock so he hits deeper.
You wince slightly, he picks up on it, slows down a bit.
“your okay” he soothes, his big hands splaying across your thighs, squeezing, it provides comfort. “Look at me, love” his gravelly voice is soft, tender.
Your eyes flit to his, a half smile on his face
“There she is” he moves his hand to your face, runs a finger down your jaw.
He watches intently as your chest begins to heave, your pussy tightens round his cock.
“G-Geralt” you choke out, panicking slightly as your mind fogs.
“your safe, it’s okay, I’ve got you love” he assures you, his hand still cupping your face. Your eyes roll back as your orgasm begins to wash over you, your arm reaching to clutch Geralts. Nails leaving half moon indents in his skin as you moan beneath him. He snakes a hand down between you, callused finger pushing on your puffy clit. “Mm, keep making those pretty noises for me, your doing so well my love, you feel amazing wrapped around my cock” Geralt lets out a broken moan as he spoke, gritting his teeth as your pussy convulsed around him. “ Oh god Geralt, I’m gonna-
“I know, keep your eyes on me, breathe, good girl, good, that’s it” he hisses through his teeth as you clench hard around his cock. You whined as pleasure overcame your senses. Geralt cups your face, . “Let go, come for me” he demands, his stunning eyes wide with lust, brow furrowed slightly, you loose yourself in them as you release around him. Triggered by your orgasm, Geralts cock tightens and he paints your walls with his come, a low moan bubbling from his throat as he does. “Fuck my love that was incredible, you were incredible” he breathes, his voice cracked with pleasure. Your head is fuzzy with the aftermath of your climax, Geralts rough hands rub soothingly up your side.
“I’m going to pull out now, and I’ll clean you up my love, okay”. He states, his voice has that post orgasm croak that you just love and you nod.
You flinch slightly when the warm towel touches your core, Geralt leaning up on the bed on his side next to you. “Sh it’s okay” he soothes. “I love you” you murmur, shifting closer to him, you curl into him as Geralt pulls the quilt over the both of you. Wrapping his big arms around you he pulls you closer, encasing you. You feel safe like this, you always will. “I love you too my love” he smiles, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head.
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Hannibal (2013-2015) blooper reel
#fans who want a new season vs. fans who don't
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Rereading this again because this is SO good and I feel readers pain throughout all this I love this so much
steady hand
pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader
summary: hotch catches you at the worst times, but you’re not mad about it. or: 4 times you need hotch’s help +1 time he needs yours.
word count: 6.1k
warnings: probably very inaccurate descriptions of r’s job (it’s for the plot, okay??), shy!reader, a very small injury description, yearning (?), first kiss, fluff !!!
a/n: hiiiii this is my very first hotch fic (gasp) so i hope i did okay!!! i’m excited to be writing for him and i have enjoyed it so far and i hope you will too!!! please please let me know what you think and if you’d want to see more of him from me <33
༄
People are usually impressed when you tell them you work at the BAU.
Which, you won’t lie, is something to be proud of, but their first thought is always that you’re doing something big and solving cases. They ask you if you were there when this case was solved or when that killer was caught.
Then there’s the nodding and dissipation of their excitement when you explain that you work a desk job there. Organize files, write reports, that sort of thing. That is a lot less impressive to most.
You’re no Agent Morgan, or Dr. Reid. Certainly no Agent Hotchner or Prentiss. Instead of being on the field, you spend your time fighting with a printer.
Getting the papers you needed should have been simple, a quick in and out that would have you back hiding behind your desk in minutes. Of course, the universe or something must be against you, because instead, you’ve spent at least twenty minutes trying to figure out what’s wrong.
It isn’t jammed (you’ve checked about five times to be sure) and you’re not educated in printers enough to know how to fix whatever’s going on. You’re just lucky nobody else has needed it yet.
“Come on,” you mutter, trying to pull it away from the wall to get a better look.
You’re sure there’s stress sweat building on your forehead. The last thing you want to do is ask someone for help, to make yourself too visible in this place full of important, intimidating people. You’d rather struggle on your own for now.
You make sure that the thing is plugged in (it is) and then check if it’s jammed. Again.
“Piece of shit,” you’re mumbling at the thing, leaning over it looking for anything out of place.
That’s when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. The sound has you jumping, your knuckles smacking against the wall where your hand had been wedged between it and the printer. You turn around to find Agent Hotchner.
He’d been walking by the printer room when he heard the grumbled curse words. Peeking inside, he’d been pleasantly surprised to find you fussing over the printer. He bit back a chuckle before making his presence known.
You tug your skirt down where it’d ridden up, fiddling with the hem as you try to push down your embarrassment. Of course he’d be the one to see you, in his crisp suit and all. He’s leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, his arms crossed loosely. You swallow and try not to look at his biceps.
“Sorry, sir. The printer doesn’t seem to be, um, printing.”
“I’m assuming that’s why you were fighting with it.”
You fight a wince, “you heard that?”
“Heard what?” He asks, though by the twitch of his lips, you know that he’s well aware of what you’re talking about. He then gestures at the cause of your issues behind you, “it’s not jammed, is it?”
“I don’t think so. It wasn’t when I checked, at least.”
You’re trying not to act as nervous as you are. You don’t think you’ve ever really spoken to Agent Hotchner, save for small ‘hello’s and that one time you apologized for bumping into him. He’s handsome—you’ve always thought so—and, more importantly, he’s basically your boss.
“Let me take a look,” he says, walking over. You step aside, staying out of the way.
“It’s alright,” you start as he looks over it, “I’m sure you have much more important things to do than fix a printer, sir.”
Hotch’s eyes flick over to where you stand, a hand still fiddling with the hem of your skirt, your hair a little messy, your eyes a little wide and worried. You look pretty, he thinks. And sure, he does have things he should be doing instead of trying to fix this printer, but he doesn’t really care.
“Don’t worry about that,” he tells you.
He looks back to the printer, and he seems pretty convinced about trying to help, so you drop it.
While he’s distracted, you take the opportunity to look at his profile. The slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the way his brows are pinched a little in focus. It’s unfair, you think, for him to be smart and brave, and be so good-looking on top of it all.
Like he’d heard your thoughts, felt your gaze, he looks over at you again. You turn your eyes toward the floor quickly.
It’s a couple of minutes before anyone speaks. You, staring at the carpet until your vision goes a little fuzzy. Hotch, pushing buttons and flicking switches trying to figure out whatever was going on with the damn printer.
Then, the sound of the ink swiping over the pages, the papers spitting from the printer. You look over at it, mouth slightly parted. What can’t he do?
The sound of your name has your eyes snapping up to his. It’s yet another surprise, him knowing your name. You’re not that important, in the grand scheme of things at the BAU, in the world, really. Someone meant to stay hidden in the background. And still, he knows your name.
“It should be fine now,” he says, grabbing your papers from the cartridge and handing them to you as he stands up straight. “Let me know if it gives you trouble again.”
You grab the pages from him slowly, still shocked at the whole exchange. Your fingers brush against his as you do. “I- Thank you, sir.”
He nods, moving towards the hall. He pauses in the doorway, turning back towards you. “Hotch is fine.”
“Sorry?”
“You keep calling me ‘sir.’ You don’t have to. Just Hotch is fine.”
“Right. Sorry, sir- I mean, Hotch,” you test it out. “Thank you again.”
Yes, Hotch thinks, he likes you saying his name a whole lot more. He sends you a kind smile, “no problem.”
Hotch walks away, probably towards his office where he has very important things to do. Stuff that was surely delayed because he paused to help you. You stare at the doorway for a minute, until you give yourself a papercut and look down at it.
Aaron Hotchner knows who you are.
-
You’re two shitty coffees deep so far, your report open on your desk, the typing bar blinking on the screen of your computer.
There’s pages to go, though you’re not sure how many. You’ve been doing the sort of mindless, robot typing you do when you’re tired. When you’re preoccupied with trying not to glance in the direction of Hotch’s office.
The team got back sometime last night, long after you’d already gone home. From somewhere in Indiana, you think. You’re not sure how they do it, flying about and still coming into the office. You’re tired and you can’t even remember the last time you’ve been on a plane. Add the crime fighting and you’d be a goner.
Blinking yourself from your thoughts, you look back at the blank pages spread out in front of you. It’s not unusual for you to be missing pieces that you need to complete things, it’s just inconvenient. You always end up having to ask someone for the files you need, and then you feel like a burden.
It’s stupid, but in a place full of important people, it’s easy to feel like you’re just in the way.
Anyway, it’s your job, so you push away from your desk and stand, tugging the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.
Your first thought is to go to Reid. As far as friendship goes, you’d consider yourself closest to that definition with him. He’s also the least intimidating of the bunch, probably because you see the most of yourself in him.
You find him in the kitchen with Agent Jareau, both holding their own mugs, probably filled with the same coffee as the one that sits on your desk. You knock gently on the door even though it’s open.
“Hi, sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if either of you have the files from that case you worked a couple weeks back. The one in Ohio,” you shuffle on your feet under their gaze. “I need them for this report.”
“Hey,” Reid speaks first, smiling kindly, “I don’t remember keeping them, but I can double check in my desk if you would like.”
“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to do that, I’m sure I’ll find them somewhere.”
You’re about to head out the door when Agent Jareau stops you, “wait, I’m pretty sure Hotch has them. I can go ask him for you.”
It’s silly to feel nervous talking to them, especially when nobody’s ever been anything but nice to you. A little bit of the twist in your gut comes undone.
“No, no. I’ll go ask him if he isn’t busy, thank you though.”
“You should be fine, the door’s open,” she tells you.
You nod, sending the both of them a smile you hope doesn’t look awkward. “Thanks again.”
Their voices picking up their conversation follow you out the door. You cross the space, saying small ‘hello’s to Agent Morgan and Agent Prentiss when they greet you. You try to ignore the prickle of eyes on you as you climb the steps and head to Hotch’s office.
His jacket is draped across the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up on his forearms. It’s probably the most disheveled you’ve ever seen him, and he’s only missing a single layer. You look away from his arms when he says your name.
Hotch had his head bent, looking over a case when he’d heard footsteps, and he’d been glad to find you standing in his doorway. You work in the same place, yet he barely sees you. That’s probably why something lightens in his chest every time he does. The rarity, that’s all.
“Is this a bad time?” You ask.
“Not at all,” he leans back in his chair, “what can I do for you?”
“I’m really sorry to bother you, sir-”
“Hotch,” he reminds gently. His voice is easy, a hum that you think would sound good no matter what he was saying.
“Right, sorry. Hotch. I was just looking for some files that I need from a case you guys had for this report.”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”
Then, he smiles in that way that Aaron Hotchner so often does. A small twitch of his lips, a lift in the corners. One that you probably wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t paying so much attention. One that feels sort of like a gift.
You shake your head at yourself and elaborate, “the Ohio case. Three weeks ago, I think. I asked Agent Jareau, but she said you had them, so…”
Hotch wants to reassure you, but he’s not sure how to do it without standing up and letting himself grab your hand and squeeze it the way he’d like. And he can’t do that, not when you’re already nervous. Not when he’s not sure he could hold back after one touch.
“It’s no problem,” he opens one of his drawers, flips through folders until he finds what you’re looking for.
He stands up and walks around his desk until he’s in front of you, and he lets his gaze flick over your face while he has the chance. Your eyes find his easily, and you hope he can’t hear the catch in your breath.
Aaron isn’t usually so quiet with his affections, but that’s because he’s never found himself feeling this way at work. He wishes your desk was on his way to his office, just so he’d have an excuse to stop and talk to you. He makes sure never to use your favorite mug from the cupboard, just so you’ll be more likely to have it.
Hotch clears his throat, “here they are.”
He holds up the folder between you, his hand holding it loosely, the other hanging by his side. His fingers twitch.
You’re embarrassingly distracted by his exposed forearms, eyes trailing from his hand to the skin of his arm, to the way his shirt is tight where the sleeves are rolled. Then, it’s the color of his tie today, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallows.
His hand reaching for yours is enough to erase everything else. He lifts it and places the folder in your hold for you. Your skin burns even when he pulls away.
“You alright?” He asks. Probably because you’d been staring at him like a weirdo.
Get it together.
“Yeah. Yes, sorry. Just sort of spacey today, I guess.”
When you look back to his face, there’s nothing but a sort of softness in his eyes you can’t identify. He smiles at you, and for the second time, you feel like you’ve won something.
“Is that what you needed?” He asks.
You open the folder and peek inside. You find exactly what you’d been looking for, not that you’re surprised. Hotch knew what you’d meant and you didn’t doubt that.
“It is. Thank you, Hotch,” you grin lightly when you get that part right. “I’ll get out of your way.”
“You’re not in my way.”
Hotch says the words like he’d known you needed to hear them, like he’d known what runs through your mind so often, like he can read you. He probably can, you think. He is a profiler after all.
Still, the words make your heart do a stupid little jump.
“I’ll bring them back when I’m done,” you say.
“No rush. They’ll just be going back in the drawer anyway.”
“Well, thank you again.”
“It’s no problem, really.”
Hotch watches you walk back to your desk with your head down. Looking at the folder in your hand, he thinks, at least it’s an excuse for you to come see him again.
-
Hotch isn’t in his office when you return the files.
Since you can’t thank him in person—assuming he’s off with the team somewhere saving lives—you leave a sticky note on top of the folder. You drop it on his desk and leave before you second-guess yourself and rip the note off.
You can’t help but think that the office feels sort of empty without the team there. Without Hotch there. It’s how it is most days, so you’re not sure why the absence feels so present now. You shake it off.
The day passes by, then your drive home, and the rest of your night, too. Through it all, you can’t stop wondering what Hotch is doing, wherever he is. Hoping he’s safe.
You’re certainly not expecting to see him the next day, back so soon, but you can’t say you’re upset about it. It’s a brief glance, him walking into his office, the rest of the team and their chatter following, but it’s enough to make your work seem less tiring for some reason.
It was a quick case, and Aaron was glad to at least get a couple of hours of sleep in before coming into the office. When he sits at his desk, the first thing he notices is the folder you’ve left there. The small note in your handwriting.
‘Thank you :)’
He peels the note away and folds it up. Without thinking, it ends up tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket. It’s a simple piece of paper, but it’s heavy where it sits. He rubs a hand over the pocket where the note is and gets to work.
It’s not until a couple of hours later that Hotch ends up leaving his office. Conveniently, in the direction of your desk.
You’ve been burying yourself in your work, your leg bouncing nonstop, your nose inches away from the pages on your desk, your chair pushed in as close as it’ll go. You have to, because if you take a break, if you look away, your eyes will search for Hotch, and you don’t really want to think about what that means right now.
About the ache in your chest when he’s gone, the urge to go ask him a stupid question just to talk to him. It’s awful.
The pen you’re using suddenly runs out of ink, and it makes you pause long enough to feel a cramp in your hand. You sit up and huff, pulling your drawer open and digging around for another pen. Your name in Hotch’s voice has you shutting the drawer and spinning quickly.
It’s just your luck that your shirt gets caught, that the sound of the rip is too loud to play off or ignore.
“Oh gosh,” you whisper, looking down at the damage.
It’s a cheap shirt, you shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s worse than you’d expected. This is what you get for sitting so damn close. The side seam is split, and if you move too much, your bra would probably be visible.
“This is so embarrassing,” you say, holding the rip shut with one hand and holding the other on your forehead. Of course this would happen to you in front of him.
Aaron’s eyes hover where your skin had been exposed, even now that you hold your shirt shut, wondering if it’d feel as soft as it looks. He can’t even remember what he came over to do or say.
He swallows and looks at your face, “do you have another?”
You shake your head, still hiding behind your hand, “no. I really, really wish I did, though.”
“I have an extra one in my go bag. If you’d like?” He hears himself say the words, and he doesn’t regret them, necessarily, but it’s clear to him that you mess with his brain. He doesn’t think straight where you’re involved.
You peek up at him, dropping your hand to your side. “Are you sure? I could probably just use some paper clips, or something.”
“Nonsense. I’ll go get it, okay? I’ll bring it to the bathroom so you can change.”
“You don’t have to-”
Your name leaves his mouth again, gentle but firm. “I’ll grab it.”
“Okay.”
You speed-walk over to the washroom and walk in, closing the door only to block out the rest of the office, who surely noticed what just happened. You’re probably never gonna live this down.
Your overthinking doesn’t get very far, because after only a minute, Hotch is knocking on the door.
“It’s just me,” he says. ‘Just,’ like that word could ever be used to describe him. “You can just open the door a crack and I’ll pass the shirt through.”
You do as he says, tugging the door open until you can see a white dress shirt (of course) in his hand. You reach out and he hands it to you easily.
“Thank you, Hotch. I’ll wash it and give it back, I promise. Sorry for this.”
“Don’t worry about it.” You can’t see his face, but you can hear the sincerity in his voice. “I mean it.”
“Thanks,” you say quietly, closing the door.
His shirt is wrinkled from being packed in his bag, and the sleeves are long when you put it on, but it smells like him and isn’t ripped so you really can’t complain. You roll the sleeves and tuck the bottom into your pants, looking in the mirror to make sure you look at least a little bit put together.
Holy shit, you think. I’m wearing Aaron Hotchner’s shirt. What world have you been living in recently? To be interacting with him more often, to be feeling this sick skip in your heartbeat whenever you do.
You toss your ripped shirt in the garbage, look up, and huff out a breath before leaving the bathroom. You’re surprised to see Hotch still standing there.
“Oh,” you nearly bump into his chest when you walk out the door, but the warmth of his hand on your shoulder steadies you. “I didn’t know you were still there, sorry.”
“You don’t need to say sorry so much, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. You’re dreaming, surely. You pinch yourself on the inside of your arm, just in case. You don’t wake up.
“I- um,” you’re fumbling for words because he’s standing there, looking at you softly, calling you ‘sweetheart’ in that voice of his.
Aaron doesn’t know where that came from, but he’s said it and it’s happened. With the way he thinks about you, how often he does, he can’t really be surprised. Besides, seeing you get flustered because of him is absolutely worth it.
“I wanted to thank you for getting those files back to me so quickly.”
Your eyes flick over to his arm, and it’s then he realizes that his hand is still on your shoulder. He pulls it away and stuffs it in his pocket. He’s probably imagining it, but he swears his palm is tingling.
You wipe your hands over your thighs, “right. It was no problem, really. I was mostly done with my report, so… Thanks for giving them to me.”
“I’m glad to be able to help,” he says. Then he walks back to his office.
You’re standing in front of the bathroom for what’s surely an odd amount of time. Even back at your desk, you can’t shake the haze you feel, a pink tint to your vision, a flutter in your gut.
You spend the rest of your day with your nose buried in the collar of Hotch’s shirt, avoiding the gazes of your coworkers around you.
Aaron spends the rest of the day thinking about how you looked in his shirt. About how you’d look in it and nothing else. He drags a hand over his face when that pops into his head.
“You good, boss?” Morgan asks from the doorway.
“I’m fine.” He doesn’t miss the knowing smirk on Morgan’s face.
-
It’s very rare that Aaron leaves work at a reasonable time. So rare that he can’t remember the last time he wasn’t the last person there.
He’s used to the late nights, the empty spaces, deserted desks. Even so, it’s nice to finish up earlier than he’d expected. He looks forward to the extra sleep he’ll get, the longer time frame to decompress.
Leaving work early already felt like a small victory for the day, and he feels like he’s won something bigger when he sees you in your car, still in the parking lot.
You’d left maybe twenty minutes before Hotch, though you’d assumed he’d be leaving hours after you like he usually does. Everything was fine, normal as you bid your goodbyes to your desk neighbors, as you rode the elevator down.
The sun has started setting, and the air gets cooler as it sinks. You fish your car keys from your bag and unlock it, getting in quickly and tossing your bag onto the passenger seat.
You like your job, sometimes you love it, even, but you look forward to going home either way. You think about the warm shower you’ll take, the shitty dinner you’ll end up eating. Your lonely plans are ruined as you twist your car key in the ignition, it sputters and doesn’t start.
“No, no. Come on,” your head falls back, you huff and take the key out.
You try again, and still, no luck. And again, and once more until you’re fed up with it and drop the keys in your lap. Your head is dropped against the steering wheel, allowing yourself a moment of dramatics from your defeat.
A knock on your window startles you upright. Your heart races for reasons other than fear when you look at who it is.
Hotch stands outside, leaning towards your window with a scrunch in his brows. When he catches your eye, he steps back from your door and gives you room to open it and step out.
You shut your car door behind you and lean your back against it, “hi.”
“Hi. Sorry to scare you, but I wanted to check that you were alright?”
“It’s okay,” your arms are folded behind your back, your hands twisting. “Um, it’s nothing, just some car troubles.”
“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“I guess not. It won’t start for some reason. I don’t know.” If he wasn’t standing right there, you’d probably smack yourself for how unsure you sound. “You keep catching me at the worst times, Hotch.”
He disagrees. Aaron can’t think of a time where seeing you could ever be a bad thing.
“You’re fine,” he says, his voice suddenly softer, “trust me.”
Despite the bite of the wind outside, the way he speaks warms you. He’s so honest in the way he speaks, in the sense that he sounds sure, even if it isn’t necessarily vulnerable. You don’t know how he does it.
A small smile spreads on your face before you can stop it, “okay, good. And thank you for checking on me. I’ll just call a cab and figure this out tomorrow.”
There’s no way he can let you take a cab. It’s obvious that with what he does, the things he sees, he’d rather know for sure you’d be safe getting home. But then, there’s the sort of floating feeling he has when he’s around you, one he’d like to feel for a little longer if he could.
“Let me drive you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, really. I’ll be fine.”
He ducks his head a little, catches your eye and holds you with that soft gaze of his. “Please, it’s not a problem. For my peace of mind.”
It doesn’t take much convincing, really. You’d much rather sit in a car that probably smells like him than in the back of a cab that smells like sweat.
“For your peace of mind, then. That’d be great.”
You grab your bag from your car before following Aaron to his, where he opens the passenger door for you and makes sure your legs are tucked inside before shutting it. He jogs around the front of his car and gets in.
“Where am I taking you?” He asks, starting his car. The radio hums softly through the speakers, and Hotch reaches over to turn on the heating when he catches you shivering a little.
You tell him your address, “you don’t have to drive me if it’s out of your way, Hotch. I mean it.”
“It isn’t out of my way,” he assures you, and he could easily be lying, but you accept it anyway.
It’s quiet for a little bit, besides the odd question from Aaron for which way to turn. You take the chance to look at him as he drives, his hands on the wheel, the street lights hitting his face. Your head lulls against the seat.
“You’re finished earlier than usual today,” you say. “Not that I know your schedule, or anything, I just-”
“Sweetheart,” he stops you, a smile spreading. It’s wider than what you’ve seen at work, unguarded enough to show his teeth. It’s really pretty. “It’s alright. It’s work I can be doing at home.”
“That’s good. A change of scenery, at least.”
“Exactly.”
You’re not sure what it is that feels different now, in the car. Maybe it’s because it’s only you and him, no prying eyes in the office, no concerns about what this is, what’s allowed. It might only be you, that feels this sort of spark with him, fizzing i’m the air between you. Either way, you’ll soak it up for the duration of the ride to yours.
Maybe that’s why you’re saying, “you know, I always thought you didn’t even know who I was. Until the printer thing.”
Aaron peeks over at you, leaned in his passenger seat. You look like you belong there, like there’s always been a spot for you in his life. Even when you’d started at the BAU, when he first saw you, he felt like it was right that you were there.
Hell, he’d asked Garcia who you were and has had your name in the back of his head since.
“I’ve always liked you,” he admits. He doesn’t say he’s always known you. Liked.
“Really?” You can’t help but ask. Someone like him even noticing you seemed unfathomable. But liking you? He’s gotta be lying.
“Really. Even when you were bumping into me.”
“You remember that?”
“Yeah, I do. You were looking down at the ground, walking like you were being timed. And you had on this light pink sweater.”
Your eyes go wide, focused on his face. You had been wearing a light pink sweater that day. And he remembers all of that? You think, if you looked at yourself in the mirror right now, your eyes would be in the shape of hearts, pulsing in your pupils.
“I can’t believe you noticed all of that.”
“I notice a lot of things,” he says.
Aaron has always had his guard up around new people, has always made himself more serious at work than anywhere else. Then you came along and he had to fight to keep things that way. It makes sense that the minute he sees you outside of work his walls would crumble to dust.
It was inevitable, really.
“I’ve always liked you, too.” Then, before he can say anything, you point at your building, “it’s this one here.”
The car rolls to a stop slowly, his turn signal flashing as he pulls over by the entrance of your apartment building. He puts the car in park and turns to you fully.
“Thank you for driving me.”
“No problem, sweetheart.”
His hand reaches out before he can really think about it, fingertips featherlight over your cheekbone, sliding over to tuck your hair behind your ear. Then, like it was never there, he pulls back. There’s a glow in his fingers where they’d brushed your skin, golden.
It matches the one you feel on your cheek, sparkling.
“Get in safe, okay?”
“It’s a few feet from here to the front door, Hotch. I’ll be alright.”
He huffs softly, twin smiles on your faces. Lovesick and shy, nervous and pink-hazed all at once.
“For my peace of mind,” he says.
“Fine, then. Your peace of mind,” you reach for the door handle, tugging it and pushing the door open. You look at Hotch again, like you can’t get yourself to stop. “Thanks again.”
“See you, sweetheart.”
“Bye.”
You step out and head to your door, turning around before walking inside to give him a wave. Aaron grins and waves back, watching you walk inside.
He stays parked by the curb until he sees a light flick on a couple of floors up.
-
+1
There’s a reason that Hotch is Unit Chief. He thinks quickly, keeps his head straight even with what he deals with every day. There’s also a reason his leadership has been questioned before, but never revoked.
He can be reckless, throwing himself into situations when he knows he probably should’ve waited for backup. This time, it only got him a split eyebrow and a few stitches. It’s been worse; this is nothing.
It is, however, proving to be an inconvenience. He’d gotten stitched up in the ER of whatever hospital was closest to where the team had caught their unsub. It had to be quick, from the hospital straight to the jet.
They’d told him to clean it up again and put a new bandage on it when he got back, which is what he’s trying to do now, in his office, with his laptop’s grainy camera as a mirror. He has the supplies the hospital gave him on his desk, but he can’t really see what he’s doing, and the task is taking much longer than he’d like.
His hands are a little shaky from the adrenaline of his day, and every time his arm comes up to reach his stitches, it blocks his view.
Then, he sees you walking up to his office.
Usually, you’d already be home by now, but you’d been yourself and messed up some of your paperwork, so you had to stay late to re-do it. When you catch sight of Hotch in his office, you’re not so annoyed with yourself.
You notice the things on his desk, the blood on the front of his shirt. Your feet carry you to his doorway easily. Last time you’d really spoken to him was that night in his car, and ever since, there’s been something boiling, a noticeable shift.
You tap your knuckles on his open door twice, “you okay?”
He gives up on dealing with his cut and looks at you instead, the slightly rumpled state of your clothes from a long day, the smile you wear that doesn’t exactly hide the concern in your eyes, the light from the hallway a halo around you. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
“I’m alright. Just can't seem to do this right,” he says, gesturing to his eyebrow.
“Do you need help?”
Aaron has never been one to accept help easily, always one to do things on his own. But, when you’re offering so sweetly, when your help means your hands on his skin, how could he ever say no?
“That would be great.”
He pushes his chair back to give you room to stand in front of him. Your legs between his, leaning against the edge of his desk. His knees bump into the sides of your legs, little bursts of the kind of warmth sunlight emits on skin.
You reach for the wipes first, holding them in one hand and reaching up to his eyebrow, the other grasping his chin gently to keep his head steady.
His hand reaches up to hold your elbow. It could so easily be innocent, be almost nothing, but it feels like more. His thumb running back and forth, your face close enough to his to have your breaths mingling. It really feels like more.
“You’re here late,” he says, low and quiet.
“Spilled coffee all over my work. Had to start over. Can you believe it?” You speak just as quietly, eyes flicking from his cut down to his, just for a second.
“I can, actually. You’re sort of clumsy.”
“Hey!” He’s right, of course, but the warm chuckle he lets out is worth your dramatic gasp.
“It’s not a bad thing,” he assures you, squeezing your elbow. “I think it’s cute.”
“Well, thank you, then.”
You set the wipe aside and reach for the bandage next, placing it over his eyebrow and smoothing down the edges with a light touch. When you’re done, you pull back but don’t go far. Your hands fall from his face to grasp the edge of his desk instead.
“All done,” you say.
Aaron’s hands have shifted to your waist. His touch is so delicate, but you’d never ignore it. It might as well be bruising, the way his hands affect you.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Hotch.”
Now would be the time to walk out the door, to say ‘goodnight’ and head home, but you’re in no hurry. Not when his eyes are shining in the dimmed light of his office, soft and practically melting.
They seem to beckon you closer, and though you don’t have a reason this time, your face ends up near his, noses almost touching. It’s as far as you go, afraid you’re misreading things, afraid you’ll be wrong about this.
Hotch closes the space for you.
His chin tilts up, his mouth catching yours softly at first. His hands tighten on your waist, his lips slightly chapped and completely perfect against yours.
You think your knees might buckle, so you put your hands on his shoulders, thumbs digging into his skin, like you’re trying to make sure he’s real. You’re not sure how you manage to kiss him back but you do, and you hear the sharp intake of breath he takes when you push back.
The kiss doesn’t deepen, but it doesn’t have to. You can feel plenty in it already.
It’s not long before Hotch pulls away, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head to look up at you. He removes one of your hands from his shoulder and holds it in his.
“We shouldn’t do this here,” he says, his thumb running over your knuckles.
You look down at your feet, at his legs next to yours. The hand still on his shoulder falls to your side, suddenly feeling nervous.
“You’re right, I’m so-”
“But,” he stops your apology before you can say it. As if you’d ever need to apologize for kissing him. “I’d like to take you to dinner sometime. If you’d want that.”
You look back at his face, eyes searching. He smiles so softly at you, it’s the kind of smile you could only ever give someone you like in this way. Someone you like enough to kiss.
“I’d really like that, Hotch.”
“Good,” he stands, but his hands don’t leave you. “And sweetheart?”
“Hm?”
“Call me Aaron.”
When you test it out, he’s sure of it; his name on your lips is his absolute favorite sound.
༄
thank you so much for reading!!! please please consider reblogging if you enjoyed, it helps a whole bunch more than you’d think and would mean a lot!! <3
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‘I could fix them ’ yes but how about they fix me ???
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Christmas fic party request:
Where reader is an fbi tech (post red John) and shoots her shot at Jane at the Xmas party. Smut. Lots of smut. Very comforting because I just imagine him being SO lovely. Age difference mentioned.
Patrick Jane x female reader
Summary: your feeling brave, the man you’ve been pining for is older than you, surely he’s not interested in you, right? Smut. 18+ only,protected sex, praise kink, lots of praise, eye contact , so much praise ugh I’m mad for this man okay! I’m begging people to send in more requests for him 🙏🙏
Warnings: explicit smut, 18 plus ONLY. Smut, protected sex, praise kink x10. Fingering. Pet names, Minors be gone from here!
A:N - I’m super proud of this one. Thankyou for requesting I hope you liked it 🥹🥹please feel free to request more for Patrick Jane too!! ❤️
The wince on your face as you glance around the room is prominent. You only came tonight for one reason. And he’s not here.
Your colleagues are busy getting merry, rigsby and van pelt wearing matching Christmas jumpers and paper hats. The music is so loud you can feel it coursing through you.
Jane had seen your mood dip around the holidays and he had made you promise you would at least show your face. You agreed solely because he said he would accompany you and your heart fluttered at his offer. The small touch he left on your elbow, the reassurance in his face when he said ‘I’ll be with you the whole time’ had you screaming internally.
You weren’t the newest member of the team, but you were quite a bit younger than Jane, and as he is so observant you did your absolute best to keep your crush on him secret.
It had been a long few years.
Fed up of the party, you duck out and find yourself wandering straight into something tall and hard.
Patrick
“Oh shit I’m so- you start, blinking at him as you try and play it off.
“Are you okay?” He asks rubbing your arm soothingly.
It seems your brain has short circuited as you just stare at him, he looks good, so good.
“Hey” he says softly, moving his hand to cup your face.
“Hey Jane” you squeak out, praying he can’t tell how flustered you are.
His brows crease at you, his thumb runs across the curve of your cheek and you cannot take this anymore so you bring your hand up to connect with the hand that’s on your face.
His eyes bore into yours as you wait for him to pull his hand away.
But he doesn’t.
“Jane, I- I need to tell you something I - you whisper closing your eyes as you speak.
“I know” he says lowly
“You what!” You say, horrified, eyes shooting open as heat rises to your face.
You try and turn away but he stops you, hands flying to your waist, gripping tightly.
Your lips part slightly as you take in the man in front of you. He smiles, leans forward and
Runs his thumb across your lip and once again your brain short circuits, you think you might die right there. There’s no way he doesn’t feel the way your pulse starts picking up and your eyes blow wide at his action.
“Jane?” You ask, voice cracking
“Yeah honey?” His voice slightly deeper, it makes your pussy clench and your heart soar.
“I love you” you say, and for a moment you panic thinking he doesn’t feel the same and then he closes his eyes and sighs, before pulling you in closer
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that” he growls.
He searches your face for any kind of hesitation and you nod, he smiles as he shakes his head.
“Use your words my darling”
“Hurry up and kiss me, please” you whine,
Your breath hitches as he cups your face again and brings his lips to yours. His lips are soft, he presses into you as he deepens the kiss.
You can’t help but let out a moan as he presses into you, it’s comforting, safe, and leaves you wanting more.
“Patrick” you whisper, as he reluctantly breaks the kiss, his hand comes back to cup your face, finger stroking slowly down your cheek.
“You okay?” He checks.
You nod a bit too quickly, and he chuckles.
“Shall we, go somewhere more private?” He whispers as he leans in to place a feather light kiss to your neck.
“God, yes” you mutter. He grabs your hand instantly and leads you up to his room above the office.
“It’s cold in here” you mutter as he shuts the door to his living space, instantly his arms are around you again, catching your lips in a searing kiss he cages you against the wall. One of his arms rest on the wall, the other tracing down to your waist. Your chest heaves as he teases his fingers up and down underneath your shirt.
“Please” you whine and he smirks, dipping his hand beneath the waistband.
“God your dripping” he murmurs rubbing your throbbing pussy through your panties. You clench your thighs together at his actions, and his words.
“Jane” you croak, desperate, needy.
“I love the sound of my name falling from your lips” he breathes, making you look at him before moving your panties and sliding in a finger.
It’s agonisingly slow, and of course Patrick can tell your getting frustrated with his teasing.
He speeds up a bit before adding another finger, your walls flutter around his fingers.
“Mm, Jane fuck” you whisper, he increases the pressure and starts to curl his fingers up as they enter you. His thumb comes to circle your clit and he catches your moan with a kiss.
“D-don’t stop” you moan as he presses his thumb into your clit as he curls his fingers hitting your G spot.
“Oh OH god” you whine
“That’s it honey” he soothes, breaking the kiss as your walls clench around his fingers.
“Jane” you say as you feel your orgasm approaching
“Come for me, that’s it, good girl” he says as he curls his fingers once more and you see stars as your orgasm crashes over you.
He holds you steady, fingers lazily pushing in and out of you as he fingers you through your orgasm.
“You okay”? He whispers placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You nod and he pulls you into his embrace.
“God that was- incredible” you pant, leaning in to give him a kiss.
He pulls you gently towards his bed.
He pushes you gently and you fall back
“Lie down” he whispers, he’s out of breath and it’s so arousing you can’t help the throb that courses through you.
Patrick unbuttons his suit jacket, hanging it up on the chair he climbs on top of you. Once again you feel safe within his presence.
His arms come to rest on either side of your head, he looks down at you, a soft smile on his face.
“Stop it” you say, trying to turn away from his stare.
“Don’t, don’t do that, your beautiful, let me see you yeah?” he tilts your face to look at him, as if you could love this man any more.
“Would you like to stop?” He asks and his face tells you that he would not mind one bit if you said yes, which just makes your heart pound faster in your chest.
“No, I’d very much like to continue” you say. And Jane runs his hand across your face, smiling.
You can feel Jane’s cock pressing into your leg through his jeans and you shift your hips slightly. He sucks in a breath as you sit up to undo his belt.
You do it slowly, payback. But it doesn’t last long as he ends up pulling it off himself before guiding you to lie back down.
He stands up and removes his pants before coming back and resting his hands at the top of yours.
He waits.
You nod.
He pulls down your pants and can’t help but moan at the wet patch in the middle of your underwear.
Your breath hitches as he leans down and presses his lips into your clothed pussy and hooks his fingers in the line of your panties and pulls them down.
Jane frees his hard cock from his boxers and it springs up against his stomach. A drop of precum glistening on the head.
You clench your thighs at the sight. Jane reaches for the condom under his bed and rolls it down.
He pumps his cock a few times before lining up with your entrance.
You breathe in as you prepare.
Jane’s hand find your clit once more,he watches your face as his fingers circle your clit. You relax slightly as he continues his actions.
“Hey” he says softly
“I’m okay” you say.
“Take a deep breath for me darling” he places one hand on your lower stomach and the other wraps around his cock.
You do, and he slides his cock into you, slowly.
“Good girl, keep breathing for me” he soothes as he pushes his cock all the way in. Your breath catches in your throat as he pushes deeper into you.
“Keep looking at me” he says and you throb around him.
“You’re doing so good for me” he praises as he goes to rub your clit again.
“Patrick” you whisper
“Can you- I need you to go-
“I know, I know” he coos, rubbing your hips with his hand,
“I’ll go slow, I got you” he soothes before thrusting into you slowly. One of his hands is still splayed across your stomach.
“Mmhm” you whine.
“You feel so good around my cock like this” he says, pushing his cock in and out, he feels you clench around him as he speaks.
You close your eyes as he angles himself a little differently, still thrusting slowly, but his cock is hitting your g spot.
“Patrick- fuck” you choke out.
“Mm, you make the prettiest sounds” he breathes, every moan out of you sending him closer to release.
He moves his hand from your stomach as he reaches for your puffy clit, gently applying pressure as he thrusts into you.
“Patrick, I’m-
“Look at me, good girl, come for me, come all over my cock” he encourages as he presses into you again.
You hear him groan just as his cock twitched inside you and your pussy clenches,
Your toes curl and you see stars as your orgasm washes over you. Your ears ring as you hear muffled praise falling from Patrick’s mouth as you come down from your high.
“So good for me, you did so good, you’re incredible my love” he soothes, rubbing gentle circles into your hip.
You whimper underneath him. He places his hands on either side of your face.
“Jane, that was - god that was perfect you say a lazy smile painting your face. A big smile lights up his face, “I love you” he says, placing a gentle kiss to your lips.
“I’ve wanted to say that for a very long time” he admits.
“Me too” you say shy all of a sudden, turning your face from him.
He tuts
“No honey, what did I say about doing that, now, I’ll get you a warm towel and some water and I’ll be back in a moment” he soothes as he gets up.
And you, couldn’t be happier.
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Thankyou so much 🥹🥹🥹
Safe
Summary: Geralt talks you through your orgasm.
As promised, I finished my essay, and as voted for by several of you, this was the fic you wanted posted first!
Warnings: smut, 18 + only! minors be fucking gone from here ! Vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, hurt/comfort, use of good girl, soft Geralt. Praise kink, brief mentions of panic. You know the drill. Female reader.
Please note I am not responsible for your media consumption.
The white haired Witcher encases you beneath him. His muscly arms holding steady on either side of you. His amber eyes show nothing but adoration for you as he thrusts his cock inside you.
“You’re doing so good for me” he groans, his thick cock twitches as you tighten around him.
It’s been hours, not that your complaining of course, Geralt exploring every inch of you with his fingers, his tongue, muttering praise and comments on how gorgeously stunning you are.
“Geralt” you whine, your pleasure building, your stomach beginning to swirl as it starts to cloud your mind.
“Your close” the Witcher observes, angling his cock so he hits deeper.
You wince slightly, he picks up on it, slows down a bit.
“your okay” he soothes, his big hands splaying across your thighs, squeezing, it provides comfort. “Look at me, love” his gravelly voice is soft, tender.
Your eyes flit to his, a half smile on his face
“There she is” he moves his hand to your face, runs a finger down your jaw.
He watches intently as your chest begins to heave, your pussy tightens round his cock.
“G-Geralt” you choke out, panicking slightly as your mind fogs.
“your safe, it’s okay, I’ve got you love” he assures you, his hand still cupping your face. Your eyes roll back as your orgasm begins to wash over you, your arm reaching to clutch Geralts. Nails leaving half moon indents in his skin as you moan beneath him. He snakes a hand down between you, callused finger pushing on your puffy clit. “Mm, keep making those pretty noises for me, your doing so well my love, you feel amazing wrapped around my cock” Geralt lets out a broken moan as he spoke, gritting his teeth as your pussy convulsed around him. “ Oh god Geralt, I’m gonna-
“I know, keep your eyes on me, breathe, good girl, good, that’s it” he hisses through his teeth as you clench hard around his cock. You whined as pleasure overcame your senses. Geralt cups your face, . “Let go, come for me” he demands, his stunning eyes wide with lust, brow furrowed slightly, you loose yourself in them as you release around him. Triggered by your orgasm, Geralts cock tightens and he paints your walls with his come, a low moan bubbling from his throat as he does. “Fuck my love that was incredible, you were incredible” he breathes, his voice cracked with pleasure. Your head is fuzzy with the aftermath of your climax, Geralts rough hands rub soothingly up your side.
“I’m going to pull out now, and I’ll clean you up my love, okay”. He states, his voice has that post orgasm croak that you just love and you nod.
You flinch slightly when the warm towel touches your core, Geralt leaning up on the bed on his side next to you. “Sh it’s okay” he soothes. “I love you” you murmur, shifting closer to him, you curl into him as Geralt pulls the quilt over the both of you. Wrapping his big arms around you he pulls you closer, encasing you. You feel safe like this, you always will. “I love you too my love” he smiles, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head.
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Oh my gosh this is fab! The tension?? Amazing! 🥰😩
“Live Mas”
Word count: 6343
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader, dbf!Hotch if you squint
Content warning: oral sex, fingering, p in v sex
Summary: you had a bad week at work, and Aaron suggests you go on a cabin trip. What could possibly happen?
Author’s Note: this is for my friend’s (@rivnxm) birthday! Happy birthday darling, and I hope you have a WONDERFUL day <3 xoxo
“Oh my god, thank you for letting me crash here,” you said, half gratefully, half apologetically, with a bottle of wine in your hand. Aaron raised an eyebrow at you with a half smile from where he was sitting in an oversized armchair, beckoning with his hand for you to set your things down.
“You’re lucky you caught me on a day where I actually got to go home at a decent hour. Jack’s at Jessica’s until Sunday night, and this house sounded a little hollow.”
You sat your bag on the floor unceremoniously beside the couch, the wine on the coffee table, and yourself on the couch, flopping a bit.
He eyed you, and you almost rolled your eyes as you felt him “profile” you.
“Rough day?” Aaron asked.
“Rough week. JD is giving me issues and I can’t stand him! He said my article was frivolous. Frivolous! Can you believe the gall?”
“Isn’t this the same guy who said your use of the word “persnickety” in an editorial was entirely too casual?”
“The one and only bastard.”
“If only he was the only bastard. It would make my job easier.”
You rolled your eyes, “you know what I meant.”
He reached for the wine bottle and pulled out a bottle opener and popped it open, a smirk on his face. “Yeah, I do.”
Of course, your friendship with Aaron Hotchner was probably a bit strange. He was in his 40s, a father, and a widower who had been through a divorce, and you were… well, quite a bit younger and not as jaded or cynical.
You were acquainted with him through your father, whose expertise was consulted for a case as a favor to Aaron, and somehow you two clicked and became better friends than he was with your father. You’d met him after your father invited him to a barbecue, and you realized you’d never met a more stoic man, nor one who could wear the hell out of a quarter zip shirt like he did. Did you form a small crush on him? Yes. Did you dare utter it aloud? Hell no. You suppressed the snot out of it.
“You know what I need? I need a vacation. Just… to relax. Maybe become one with nature, let the moss grow on me like a rock.”
Aaron got up to get wine glasses from his wet bar, and came back, sitting down in his chair as he poured the wine in the glasses. “What would your ideal vacation be?”
“Gosh… I love the mountains,” you said dreamily, your chin propped up on your knuckle, “I haven’t stayed in a cabin since… I don’t know, since I lived with my parents.”
He handed you a glass of wine. “I see.”
“You sound awfully pensive, what’s ticking in that head of yours?”
“I was thinking… maybe, we could take a vacation. Just you and me and a cabin in the mountains. A retreat, if you will. Jack’s at Jessica’s, and I have an overstock of days off.”
You took a sip of wine and leaned forward. “Where were you thinking?”
“West Virginia. I’ve rented a cabin before that was about four or five hours drive from here- easily doable for a weekend getaway. We could leave tomorrow after work, Friday, and come back Sunday evening.”
“Why would you come?”
He shrugged. “Keep an eye out on you. Plus, I need a break too.”
You rolled your eyes. “Do you not believe I can take care of myself at all?”
“I don’t doubt that you can,” Aaron insisted, “I just… I don’t know, I don’t want to risk anything.”
You were aware of his overprotective tendencies, partially because of the horrors he saw at his job, and also because of what happened to his wife. Your eyes and lips softened a little at the layer of concern in his voice. “Well… I guess it’s always more fun with friends.”
The corner of his lip quirked. “You could bring some board games.”
“Are you telling me Super Special Agent Aaron Hotchner is fond of board games?”
“That is not what SSA stands for, and you know it,” he said with a laugh.
And so, that’s how you found yourself in the passenger seat of Aaron’s SUV after work the next day. He had loaded up your bags, snacks, and cooler of drinks into the trunk without much complaint, which surprised you. You were sure he would make the typical sarcastic “traveling light?” comment that most guys did, but it was nothing from him.
“I guess I’m the passenger princess,” you said with a laugh before you popped a gummy worm in your mouth from the bag between your legs.
His eyebrows raised in bewilderment as he looked over at you. “I- if you mean exactly what the term sounds like, yes, I guess you are.” Aaron looked at the road before looking back at you. “Gummy worm, please?”
“I’m surprised Penelope hasn’t taught you more internet slang,” you said as you handed him a red and green gummy worm.
“She taught me what “rizz” and… um… “slay” means. That was too much for me.” He popped the worm into his mouth. You studied the side of his face for a second before he glanced over at you. “What?”
“I wouldn’t have taken you for a gummy man.”
“I love gummies. If Ronald Reagan ate jellybellies to concentrate on ruining our country, then I eat gummies to help save it. It’s not so great for my physique, though.”
“I like your physique,” you blurted.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but he didn’t say anything as he turned his attention to the road, though even your view of the side of his face didn’t hide the small smirk.
“You’re smug,” you said, teasingly accusatory.
“I don’t get many compliments on my physique nowadays- give me a minute or two to stew in it.”
“It- it kind of reminds me of Atticus Finch. You know- from To Kill a Mockingbird?” You said ramblingly.
“Are you saying I’m Gregory Peck?” You didn’t have to look at him to know he had that damn smirk on his face.
“I-“ you paused for a moment before lifting the bag of gummy worms comically, inspecting the back of it. “What level of alcohol content is in this anyways?”
“Hopefully none, considering I’m driving us, and you gave me one.”
“You’re a lightweight if all it takes is a gummy worm to get you tipsy- but there is none, you are very astute, Aaron.”
By the time you guys drove up the winding lane to the cabin, you were exhausted. You planned on taking a nap as soon as you hauled your luggage in, and you had told Aaron as much about fifteen minutes before the estimated arrival time. It was nightfall anyhow.
“I’m the one who drove, and you’re exhausted,” he mused with a smile as he carefully set some luggage on the porch.
“You’re more than welcome to take a nap too, if you’d like,” you said with a soft scoff as you waited by the door for him to open the cabin, “I’m sure there’s more than enough space for you to lay your weary head.”
“I’m sure there is,” Aaron said with a small smile as he opened the door to the cabin, with the instructions that the owner had given. When you lugged the cooler and snacks in, the smell of wood met your nose.
“This makes me so nostalgic,” you said breathily, carrying your load to the kitchen.
It was a medium sized cabin, so the living room, which featured a nice fireplace, and the kitchen were all in one open space. You didn’t study it much further as you began loading your drinks and food onto the counters and into the fridge, and Aaron began pulling in suitcases and toiletry bags.
“I’ll check the layout, and you can decide which bedroom you want to stay in,” he explained.
“Be quick about it, I need to get my blanket and pillow,” you said lightheartedly.
“Yes ma’am,” he said sarcastically before venturing further.
You cleared your throat when you realized the formal address made you feel something low in your stomach, but you tried to ignore it. You continued putting things away, then you turned and Aaron was standing there, his brows creased.
You rolled your eyes as your hand landed on your chest by instinct. “God, you scared me.”
He ignored you. “We have a problem.”
“What is it? It’s not a leak, is it?”
“If only. I could fix that. No, it turns out I booked a cabin with only one bed.”
“Oh-“
“However, I can probably sleep on the couch. If it makes you feel better, we can take turns.”
“Aaron, no, take the bed. Not to make you feel old, but your back-“
“My back is fine,” he said gruffly, “I sleep on my couch at home all of the time.”
“Aaron…”
“Don’t ‘Aaron’ me,” he said with a tiny smile, “I insist. Besides, you’re tired, and it’s almost time to go to sleep for the night anyway.”
“You damn smooth lawyer fbi agent,” you muttered as you moved to carry your stuff to the adjacent bedroom, “you make a good argument.”
“I know I do. Now, go get some rest. We can start planning the itinerary tomorrow morning.”
“What makes you think I won’t just sleep in until lunch time?” you asked sassily.
“Then I suppose that’s your prerogative.”
You moved to give him a hug, setting your bags down. “We’ll see. Good night.”
“Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
“I hope they do,” you muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Good night.”
You thought you heard an amused hum behind you as you tote everything to the bedroom. It was cute- a queen sized bed with a nice quilt on it that had an adorable design featuring bears, a large dresser that looked hand carved, and side tables with rustic lamps that had antlers for shades.
The bathroom was a decent size, and you found that the shower looked like a dream. But when you looked out of the sliding door where there was evidently a deck… you were surprised to see a hot tub. A hot tub, but not two bedrooms, you mused.
Then you saw the mountains, lit faintly by moonlight, and you gasped, awe filling you as you studied the range, your eyes tracing every pinnacle.
But after you put on your cotton pajamas and brushed your teeth and showered, you slid under the covers, the weight of the quilt settling nicely on you, and you realized- you can hear every damn scampering and skittering creature in the woods. The crickets that once seemed to be a comforting constant now sounded more ominous, and the frogs that were croaking innocently seemed to take on an edge.
You scrolled on your phone for a while, all of the lamps turned off and your face illuminated by the screen. But your brain was not winding down, and you were not sleepy. You set your phone on the side table, and turned from the window, your face towards the door, and closed your eyes.
No bueno. Those critters and the chirping and the croaking and various skittering wouldn’t let you sleep.
It took about two hours before your resolve melted and you got up out of bed.
As quietly as you could, you padded to the kitchen- you had not made it to the fridge well before you heard Aaron’s groggy voice saying your name and then, “are you okay?”
You could barely see his head peeking over the back of the couch, pointed away from the kitchen.
“I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d get some water. Go back to sleep, I’m fine.”
“Why can’t you sleep?”
You paused, wondering if you should admit the embarrassing truth. “The noises outside.”
“Someone’s not accustomed to the great outdoors and being away from highways and interstates,” he said a tad bit teasingly.
“I’m not,” you admitted as you filled a cup with water.
“C’mere.”
You sipped the water. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to try to help you go to sleep.”
You set your cup on the counter. “And your method would be…?”
“Stop asking so many questions and just c’mere,” he said, a tad bit exasperated.
“Okay dad,” you said sarcastically as you ventured towards the couch.
Aaron was half laying on the couch, his elbow propping himself up. His legs were covered by a thin blanket, but he was wearing a slightly tight green t-shirt with the Schweppes logo on it that made you bite your lip. You could clearly see an outline of his chest and the small chub of his belly even only lit by the moonlight through the window, and it was… well, he was an attractive man and you’d never felt a greater impulse to bury your head into someone’s chest before. You ignored your baser instincts.
“I’m here,” you say, almost sounding annoyed, your hands on your waist. You didn’t miss the way his eyes flitted over your pajamas.
“Sit on the couch with me. Maybe we can watch something until you fall asleep.” He sat up and patted the seat next to him.
“Were you not asleep when I came in?” You sat down beside him, and he threw part of his blanket over your lap.
“I’m a light sleeper because I’m constantly listening out for Jack. Or my phone, for the bureau.” He put his arm behind your head on the back of the couch. “You can lean into me, if you want, you know.”
Your head instinctively laid on his shoulder. “Aaron, I’m still befuddled why you would ask me to go to a cabin with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… our friendship is so unlikely anyways. You’re… frankly, middle aged. We’re in totally different areas of life. You have more… experience.” You cleared your throat nervously. “In life I mean.”
His eyebrows raised but he said nothing as he turned the TV on. Of course it was George Lopez.
“You make my life feel a little lighter,” Aaron said finally. “I love having you around and…” he studied his lap for a moment. “I would probably consider you my best friend. I’ve told you things I… I hadn’t told my team for… for a while. Maybe ever.” He looked up at you with a small smile. “You drag it out of me without saying a word.”
You stiffened a little at being called best friend, but you felt his eyes studying you keenly.
“And what do you want me to say? Call you my father figure?” You said teasingly.
“God, no,” he said almost a little too emphatically, cringing, “We’re definitely two adults. I don’t want that sort of… dynamic. Besides, I am way too young to be your dad.”
You grinned a little, but your eyes started to droop closed.
Aaron shifted so that you could lay more comfortably, but soon, despite the canned laughs from the TV, he too drifted off to sleep.
When you woke up, you did not expect your pillow to feel so warm or firm. Your hand patted around, and you felt a moment of panic course through you.
You opened one eye to realize that your pillow was none other than the chest of Aaron Hotchner. Your face was buried into his chest and your cheeks flushed at the thought of it. You patted one more time to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Somewhere in the night, you guys had laid down, and your legs were tangled with his, your back against the back of the couch and Aaron facing you, kind of… pinning you.
“Having fun there?” His voice said softly, though a smile was evident in his tone.
“I’m sorry-“ you scrambled to sit up but he shushed you gently.
“Don’t worry about it, we were asleep. It’s not like you could have helped that.”
“Still-“
“I am not going to tolerate you blaming yourself for something so innocent and harmless,” Aaron said sternly, his voice deepened by the morning grogginess. It was too early in the morning for you to need to clutch your legs together. Your resolve or the lack thereof was embarrassing, really.
“Is this how you talk to your agents?” You asked teasingly.
“Yes,” he admits, “I have had to remind my agents that sometimes things don’t go as planned on missions, and it’s not always their fault. Some of them take it hard.”
You leaned your head back against his chest, and his hand moved to the small of your back.
“Do you think…” you started but then hesitated.
“Do I think what?”
“Do you think it would be inappropriate if we flipped so that I’m… you know, on your chest?”
No words were spoken; you felt his strong arms move you, and you were laying on his chest.
“I take that as a no,” you murmured. His chuckle rumbled within his chest underneath you.
“We’re friends, we can take it, right?” Aaron said, almost cryptically.
You attempted to sit up, but when you realized how… intimate that felt, you laid back down. “I really don’t think you’ve been telling me the whole truth,” you said daringly. You looked up at him and you could see his arched eyebrows.
“Oh?”
“We have some sort of tension, and I need to know if you feel it too.”
“Tension?”
“Don’t play dumb, Aaron.”
He said your name, and it was followed by a second of hesitance.
“Aaron. We’re both adults here,” you said pleadingly.
He looked down at you, his eyes meeting yours. You couldn’t explain what you saw in those dark eyes of his, a vulnerable yet guarded fortress that you could occasionally peer into like a dollhouse. He looked so… conflicted. Like he wanted something that was well within reach, but fear or uncertainty was holding him back.
Aaron easily could have leaned down and kissed you. He knew that.
But instead he said, “do you want coffee? I brought the coffee beans you said you liked and a grinder.”
You could have pushed further but you didn’t. “I do, yeah. I probably need to change for the day anyway.”
After you awkwardly scrambled away from him, you sat in the bedroom on the bed for a couple of minutes after undressing down to your underwear to stew on what could have happened. Why didn’t he kiss you? You could have sworn he was going to but stopped himself. Why was he forbidding himself from something he wanted, that he could have enthusiastically?
When you did finally reemerge (dressed of course), you smelled the coffee perking in the coffee pot provided by the cabin owners.
“Did you sterilize that thing?” You asked him worriedly, sending a look to where he was leaning against the counter, texting on his phone.
“I did, don’t worry,” Aaron reassured you, looking up at you from his phone with a smile, “I know how you are about sterilizing kitchen items.”
“I am not risking a brain eating amoeba even for you, Hotchner.” You sat down at the kitchen bar with a sigh.
Stealthily, you scanned his outfit- a brown and orange plaid flannel shirt, rolled up to the forearms, and khaki pants. God forbid he wears jeans even away from the office, you smiled to yourself.
“Apparently everyone at the office is making bets about why I went on leave.” Aaron slid his phone into his pocket as he began pouring coffee into a mug.
“What are the reasons given by them?”
“Morgan is saying that I sprained an ankle and didn’t want to risk mandatory leave. Rossi says I’m finally gaining my wits and letting loose for a weekend and getting ‘shitfaced.’ Garcia is saying I’ve eloped and went to Paris. Emily and JJ have decided not to bet but are keeping up with the money.” He placed the mug in front of you on the bar. “Prepared just the way you like it.”
You sipped it, holding the mug with both hands. “This is perfect.”
“As many times as I’ve picked up your order from the cafe, I ought to know it by heart.” He picked up his own mug and sipped on it, his strong hand wrapped around it as though he could crush it, and you felt something filter through you. The curvature of his hands, the strength evident in the veins and his fingers- but the way they were holding the fragile mug, carefully and cautiously picking it up and placing it down again.
The way his lips rested on the rim, his throat gulping slightly with every drink- there was something so vulnerable and intimate about watching him drink, even though you’ve seen each other drink a million other times. And yet, you began feeling a little green.
Aaron lowered his mug to look at you.
“You look like you’re a million miles away. Not to mention you’re staring.”
“Mm? No, um… I’m okay.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He was a profiler. Why bother hiding anything from him.
“I’m jealous,” you blurted.
His eyebrows raised until his forehead wrinkled. “Jealous?” he asked.
It was like a floodgate opened.
“I’m jealous of the coffee mug because you willingly put your lips on and take tender sips from it. I’m jealous because you wrap your hands around it protectively. I’m just… downright envious of the way you hold it, Aaron. Because I know you refuse yourself me.”
After you had said it, you covered your face with your hands. This cabin was way too small for such a confession.
And yet, you felt his hands, still warm from holding the coffee mug, tug your hands away from your face.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Aaron said softly, “you’re… right that I refuse myself.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re young. I’m so much older than you, I would be holding you back. I have a lot of baggage, for crying out loud, I don’t want to haul that into your life just for you to…” his voice trailed off. It struck you.
“You’re afraid of me leaving you.”
“I know you’re ambitious,” he admitted, “and you should be with someone equally as ambitious. I’m in the phase where I could retire from the FBI to be home with Jack. I’m in my career because it’s… it’s my passion.”
“You’re still thinking about Haley,” you said softly.
“Yes,” Aaron admitted, “I won’t lie and say that what all happened with Haley doesn’t affect how I go forward with relationships.”
“I’m not so ambitious that I can’t appreciate a good man, Aaron. That’s not to say I would quit my job or my pursuits for you, but I don’t think you’d want me to either.”
He took your hands in his. “I wouldn’t. I like you just as you are. You and your work drama, the way you’re so finicky about certain things but carefree in others- driving you to the mountains may have been the highlight of the trip because as soon as ranges came into view, your nose was stuck to the window, and I’m almost certain you’d still see your nose print on the glass. The way you adore people and the little things in life… I’ve never been able to master that, but it comes so effortlessly to you.”
The revelation hit you like a nerf bullet to the forehead out of nowhere. “You notice those things?”
“I do.”
“You know… the drive up doesn’t have to be the highlight,” you said a little teasingly.
“And what are you suggesting?” A small smile tugged at his lips.
“I’m suggesting we either get this out of our systems and forget it ever happened, or we start something that we can’t finish without one of us breaking our heart.”
“Are you sure?” Aaron said quietly.
You didn’t have to think before you pulled him closer by his unbuttoned flannel, and your lips wavered half an inch away from his. His eyes flitted down to look at your lips before gazing into your own eyes.
“I’m so sure,” you said breathlessly.
That was the only cue he needed before he closed the distance between you, his lips landing on yours softly before they sought your lips like he was scouring for water in a desert. His arms pulled you out of the bar stool and onto your feet, his hands settling on your back on and around your waist. The old man had it in him, anyone would have to admit it.
Not too old for surprises, apparently, as he gripped you and hoisted you onto the counter. You squealed a little, and you could hear him chuckling. Your hands went to his shoulders, and your legs hooked around his waist.
His hands held your face on either side and pulled you in closer. If he could inject himself into your skin, you know he would.
You playfully nipped, pulling his lip between your teeth and sucking on it, eliciting a groan from Aaron that made you grin as you continued kissing him.
Your tongues waltzed together in intricate circles, and you felt his hands ease to your bottom as they splayed out to support you.
“What do you think you’re doing,” you murmured. He grinned like a cat who got the milk.
“I’m about to take you to the bedroom, and we’re about to make love. How does that sound, sweetheart?”
“Carry on,” you said lightly, your lips against his neck as he toted you to the bedroom.
It wasn’t long before your back hit the mattress as he laid you down carefully.
“You’re stronger than I gave you credit for,” you quipped with a smirk as you looked up at him. Aaron chuckled as he tugged off his flannel and threw it to the side.
“I have to be at least a little fit to be in the FBI. Besides, I’m not that old. Now, Rossi…”
“You are not about to mention Rossi before an intimate moment,” you interjected, half incredulous and half amused.
“Sorry, sorry. But point being, I’m not exactly ancient, and my muscles haven’t completely disintegrated.” His T-shirt was soon discarded, and flung it to who knows where.
Your eyes roved over his muscles, and the sight of them made you want to salivate. He wasn’t what most would consider “ripped,” but his muscles were defined while also having a little bit of a tummy. You wouldn’t change a thing about him.
“They haven’t disintegrated,” you agreed with a small smile.
Aaron leaned down over you. “Do you mind if I relieve you of your clothes?” He asked teasingly.
“Be my guest,” you murmured lazily.
He took his time, pulling your sweatpants down and disposed of it, tugging off your baby tee shirt next. You could see him visibly gulp as he studied your bra and panties.
“Now, before we go forward…” his finger was hooked on the waistband of your panties, playing with it, “are you sure you want this? Absolutely sure?”
“I’m absolutely sure, Aaron, I swear.”
“At any time, if you want to stop, please tell me,” he said earnestly, “it’s absolutely necessary for you to know that we can stop if you don’t want to go any further. I don’t care how far into it we’ve gone, if it’s any less than enthusiastic then we timeout.”
“You’re precious, you know that?”
Aaron almost looked horrified. “You better tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve heard this from a partner.”
You nibbled on your lip. “You’re just very thorough about it. Usually a simple “uh huh” suffices.”
“Sweetheart, like I said, I want nothing less than enthusiastic consensual sex. It’s just important to me.”
“Then you’ve got it,” you smiled up at him.
His hand fished under your back to unhook your bra, and when he pulled it away from your chest, you swore he was in awe like some people are of a sunset.
“Fuck… you’re beautiful, baby,” he said breathlessly.
You felt yourself flush and it traveled well into your chest area, and he chuckled, amused, as he kissed the nipple of your left breast, feeling the heat against his lips.
“You’re adorable when you blush like that,” Aaron said warmly.
He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and freed you of them. The cold air hit you and you squirmed, but he surged into action, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. The noises he made, almost sounds of desperation, turned you on almost as much as his mouth on your breast.
His hand began kneading your other breast, and you breathed heavily.
“Fuck,” you muttered, a shot of lightning down your back, “you’re so good at this.”
Aaron moved away from your nipple and smirked at you. “Oh, do you mean that I’m… experienced?”
“Shut up and suck a tit,” you groaned, your hand going to your face in embarrassment as he chuckled.
“Did you really think I missed that earlier?”
“Not really, I was just hoping.”
“Sorry, sweetheart.”
Your hand went to your clit, and you began rubbing it in soft circles with your index and middle fingers, and Aaron resumed sucking your breast, transitioning to the other one. Of course you’ve masturbated before, but the combined sensation of him on your nipples and your own fingers was sending you over the edge as you lifted your hips to ride them, moaning in his ear.
When you felt that sweet release, your head tilted back, and you relaxed. Honestly, you could have slept, but Aaron clearly had different ideas.
“My turn, pumpkin.”
“Pumpkin?” You asked in surprise.
“Listen, I was trying something,” he said a little defensively, “but the point being that I want to make you feel good. You’re already so wet.”
He took your hand, pulling it away from you, and he sucked the cum off your fingers, his larger hand engulfing around your hand. He finally pulled your fingers out with a loud “pop.”
“Sweet- just like you, actually,” Aaron said smugly.
“And I’m sure you’ve got a sweet tooth in your head somewhere,” you replied as you watched his head approach between your thighs.
If only you could tell the version of you that had seen Aaron at the barbeque and thought he was handsome “for a man his age” that eventually his black hair would be seen bobbing between your legs with his tongue delving into your pussy. That version of him that had been wearing his brown quarter zip, looking down at you while your dad introduced you two. Who would have thought?
And fuck, that man was talented with his tongue. Was tying cherry stems with your tongue mandatory in the FBI? If it wasn’t, it should be. But otherwise- that G-Man knew his way around the G-Spot.
He made your insides feel like they had been melted down, sitting low in your stomach as the coil tightened. If this was just his tongue…
Aaron lapped at your depths, making those same desperate noises he had been making earlier. You moaned, your hands searching for something to grasp, and they found his shoulders. Your hold was so strong, it left red marks behind on his pale skin.
Your own guttural noises, some you hadn’t been sure you ever made before, melded with the sound of the wet noise of him eating you out, and you were suddenly so glad that you were in a cabin on a winding road.
“Aaron,” you said breathlessly, your chest heaving beautifully, “I’m ready, I think I’m ready for… for you.”
He lifted his head up at you. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, although… um… I didn’t bring lube.”
“Mhm… What about protection?”
“I’m on the pill.”
“Well… to put your mind at ease, I’m clean, I just got tested a few months ago as part of a physical, and it was after I broke up with Beth. I haven’t… had sex since we broke up.”
“I’m clean too.”
Aaron kissed the inside of your thigh. “Good.”
“Is it… do you think I could…”
He kissed from your belly button up to between your breasts. “Say it with your words, darling.”
“Can I ride you? Please?”
“Far be it from me to withhold pleasure from a princess,” he said smugly. You flushed.
“I’m not a princess,” you protested weakly, not even sounding convinced of your own statement.
“You absolutely are. You’re my princess, at least.”
“Then do the princess a favor and remove your bottoms,” you said coyly.
With a laugh, he stood up from the bed and began unbuckling his belt, and slipped off his pants. You hadn’t taken him for a boxer guy, but you supposed you shouldn’t have been surprised. The outline of his dick was visible through his boxers, obviously hard, but when he slipped them off, your mouth gaped a small bit.
You saw the size of his shoes and his nose, you knew what the chances were of him being well endowed. But you didn’t ever really think you’d get to see for yourself. He didn’t look like he was too big, but he certainly wasn’t too small- not terribly long, but certainly girthy.
Absent-mindedly he stroked it, smearing the precum on the head. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”
“Aaron, if you put this off one second longer-“
“Patience,” he stifled a laugh as he laid down on the bed beside her, his hands patting his thighs in a beckoning motion.
You moved to straddle his thighs, and carefully, you lined his dick up with your entrance, and sunk yourself onto it, inch by inch, taking deep breaths as he stretched you. When you fully sheathed him, he groaned as he held your hips, his hands splayed to support you, and your hands on his chest with small soft splatters of hair under your palms.
“Baby, you take me so well,” Aaron breathed. You clenched around him and he groaned again, his head tilted back.
Every time you moved your hips, every time he felt your ass bounce even slightly, he felt he had to fight from finishing right then and there. He truly wasn’t as young as he was, but… you had exceeded his expectations.
“Oh my god,” he moaned, his hold on your hips tightening as you rutted against him.
Your face held sheer determination, but Aaron could see when you were hitting a sweet spot by the look on your face- your eyes would glaze over slightly, and your lips would fall agape. He wished he could capture your likeness and hang it up beside the Mona Lisa- it was art, a wonder of the world.
“Baby, make some noises for me,” he urged, “I need to hear you.”
Your breasts heaved, and you whimpered as you moved up and down on his dick. His hips bucked, and you squeaked at the sudden shift.
“I’m almost there,” Aaron warned you apologetically.
“That’s okay,” you said in between panting.
True to his word, he painted your walls with his cum, and you felt like you were so soaked.
At one point, you stopped bouncing and thrusting, and panted, looking down at him and him looking up at you for what seemed an eternity, his dick still inside of you.
You slipped off of him, and rolled over to lay beside him. He pulled you against his chest, spooning you from behind.
“We really need to clean up,” he murmured against your neck, “but… I could lay here with you for so long, darling. You feel so right in my arms.”
“Ditto,” you said lazily.
Despite the urge to not get up, you both cleaned up and did the usual post sex hygienic stuff. You guys dressed again, and you sat in his lap on the couch, his arm circled around your waist.
“Mm… pretty good for an old man, wasn’t it?” Aaron teased you.
“Shut up, cradle robber,” you muttered, though a wide grin was on your face.
He pinched your thigh as he chuckled.
You both fell silent, the only sound coming from the AC unit whirring on. But there was a tension of a different kind between you two now, a silent undertone of questions.
“Aaron…”
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said slowly.
“If we could DoorDash Taco Bell?”
Aaron’s face visibly fell and you chuckled as you kissed his cheek. “It is getting close to lunch, but I’m joking. What do you think I’m thinking, hm?”
“The… the ‘what are we’ question.”
“Maybe I was thinking of asking if you would be my sugar daddy,” you said with a straight face. He rolled his eyes, clearly caught on to your sense of humor now.
“It…” he paused. “I know there’s a large age gap between us. But you are… I can’t imagine not being intrigued by your mind. You’re intelligent, and beautiful, and…” Aaron’s eye somehow meandered to your lips, “one of the sweetest women I know. And I would be honored if you would consider being my girlfriend.”
“There’s no consideration needed. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”
“And my job… my job doesn’t bother you?”
“Not at all. Obviously this is a relationship we would have to take one step at the time,” you reminded him, “but I understand your job takes you away sometimes. I understand that your situation is unconventional in a way.”
Aaron kissed your forehead. “Did I ever tell you you are so sweet? When you’re not being a snark, that is.”
You blushed, remembering him calling you sweet earlier, after tasting you. “Perhaps once or twice?”
“And Taco Bell?”
“Live Mas, baby.”
“I don’t remember the terminator ever saying that.”
You didn’t have the heart to tell him that DoorDash would probably take forty minutes to an hour to deliver to you- you had checked this morning. But… What could you guys possibly do to pass the time?
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