HotchReid + Daddy kink + angst 🤣
I'm taking Hotchreid drabble requests in honor of the Hotchreid Zine release.
For more information about our Hotchreid Zine, make sure to check out Tumblr - all proceeds go to SharedHope, a charity to combat sex trafficking.
--
Cw nsfw, daddy kink, repressed memories, slight flashback, CSA mentioned
Hotch had mentioned it days ago – that he would like to try being called “daddy” in bed.
Spencer wasn’t sure what to think. It wasn’t really something he had thought about before. He knew the term “daddy” in bed was just one you called an authoritative, dominating, loving partner, similar to how “baby” didn’t actually mean infant, but something felt off to him about it. Nevertheless, he agreed to try. What could it hurt? He thought.
That is how the two got to where they were now. Spencer’s legs spread wide, with Hotch slotted so perfectly between them. He was so close – and he could tell Hotch was too but as Hotch sped up he said, “Does Daddy’s big cock feel good inside you?”
“Daddy…”
Something inside Spencer’s chest hurt as the word echoed around in his head but Hotch didn’t notice and kept going.
“Fuck baby, you feel so good around Daddy~”
“Daddy loves you, you know that?”
Spencer squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make the memories go away. He wasn’t here. It was just Hotch.
Hotch picked up the pace, “Tell Daddy how much you like it~”
Something inside Spencer’s head cried out, “Daddy, stop! It hurts! Stop!” Spencer wasn’t sure when his thoughts turned to real life screams, but Hotch was off him and off the bed.
He grabbed the sheet and roughly tied it around his waist, “Spencer? Spencer, you’re safe. Open your eyes, please.” Hotch said, not daring to touch the young man who seemed to be fighting a ghost. Or a memory, Hotch’s mind supplied and what was happening suddenly made sense. Rossi had mentioned to him after the Riley Jenkins case that Spencer showed signs of sexual abuse by the hands of his father, but that Spencer had repressed the memories. The term “daddy” during sex must have been too much.
Spencer opened his eyes and tried to relax. He didn’t understand why he freaked out like that, but his heart was still pounding in his chest. “I’m sorry, I don’t… I don’t know what happened.”
Hotch slowly moved to sit on the edge of the bed, “You don’t remember what made you start screaming?”
Spencer thought for a moment before shaking his head no. His repressed memories surfaced only for a moment but seemed to have buried themselves back in his impressive mind again.
Hotch’s heart hurt at the realization. “It’s okay, Spencer. We will figure this out together, alright?”
“Alright…”
59 notes
·
View notes
fangirling
Your fic, Forgive Me For All I Could Not Become, is the best fanfiction I have ever read. The writing is perfection, the scenes so satisfying, and it is exactly what I want in a fic; so good that I forget it's not actually canon or literature. Usually with hotchreid fics, it's a bit of suspended disbelief because Hotch & Reid weren't written to be a couple on the show but your characterizations are so on point that it literally feels like it happened. I was having a conversation on tumblr about whether reid or hotch was more of a rule follower; i was literally about to cite how Reid threw away his gun and talked to Anna about his & Hotch's relationship as an example of Reid not following orders... but then I remembered that was from your fic and didn't actually happen in the show! And I adore how you characterize Hotch & Reid's relationship, the dynamic feels perfectly natural. I would absolutely love it if you wrote any more Hotchreid fics, especially angsty ones where Hotch is initially walled off and Reid has a bit of desperation to him because I feel like those are the characterizations that really made me believe these were the real characters. Even if you don't do cm fics anymore, I just wanted to thank you. Your fic is a big reason why I'm still watching the show and it has just made my day so many times.
haha that's so kind! thank you! as a token of my appreciation, here's a little fic, it's not as angsty as i wanted but i wanted to whip up smth quick since u helped me get over a bad day
In the beginning, when the ache of losing Gideon was still fresh, Reid had kept the letter folded up in the inner pocket of his messenger bag. It served as a steady reminder that if he could live through one of the worst days of his personal life, there was nothing in this world that could make him falter.
Over the years, the thought of Gideon’s departure no longer left him debilitated. It had been shoved in the furthest crevice of his mind. He no longer needed his crutch and thus, the letter was left to collect dust in the back of his drawer.
On the rare occasions Reid had allowed himself to think of Gideon, it was only ever in passing, in brief memories he would forcefully dissipate before he could dwell on them.
Until now.
He’s not entirely sure where this incessant need to read the letter once more has come from. All he knows is that Hotch had said something that rang familiar and he would not rest until he could ascertain the exact source of where he had heard it first.
*
It had been a long case but, then again, with the BAU, when was it not? The team had once again managed to catch the killer in a bittersweet victory. This man, Travis Cotter, had snubbed newly-wedded couples of their happily ever after because he could not have his, not when the woman of his dreams had died after a long, agonizing battle with a terminal illness.
The concept of happy endings had been heavily weighing on Reid’s mind ever since he first heard the phrase in the police station that would continue to be used to describe aspects of the case.
Once again, the idea had drawn his attention and Reid found himself abandoning the crossword puzzle in his lap. Across from him, Hotch was compartmentalizing the events of the case through menial paperwork like always.
Before he could stop himself, words fell out of his mouth.
“Do you believe in happy endings?”
The pen in Hotch’s hand came to an abrupt stop.
For a moment, Reid thought Hotch would ignore him and not entertain the conversation at hand.
Then, quietly as he was afraid of being heard, he answered.
“I didn’t for a long time,” he answers without meeting Reid’s eyes, “Now, I do.”
His response puzzled Reid a bit. If he were to make an educated guess, he would have posited that after the loss of Haley, happy endings were the last things Hotch would believe in.
“That’s funny,” Reid mumbles, unwilling to speak louder as if afraid to scare Hotch away, “It’s usually the opposite for people.”
Hotch’s pen begins to write once more and Reid feels a pang of disappointment run through him as he realizes the moment is over before it could even truly begin.
“I guess I found it,” he responds, “That belief in happy endings.”
*
Hotch’s answer had confused him greatly but it had also made him ponder, thinking about where he had heard those words before.
Drawing a deep breath, Reid gives himself a moment before he tugs open the top drawer of his dresser. He rifles through the socks and undergarments before making contact with a flimsy, cool, creased piece of paper.
Unfolding it without any further delay, he scans the contents of the page within half a minute.
The first time Reid had read the letter, all those years ago in Gideon’s cabin, his eyes had been unfocused and blurry with tears. He was incapable of analysing each detail of the letter.
Now, after the sharp pain in his chest has eased down into a delicate thrum, he’s able to find discrepancies on the paper.
Gideon’s penmanship was, for a lack of a better word, odd. His proficiency in handwriting analysis had excused it at first; atypical script could be attributed to a number of factors including the onslaught of emotions that can occur after committing to a major life decision.
However, there was no factor that could account for the slight consistent smudge of ink in all of the words, going from left to right. An occurrence that only happens when the individual writing is left-handed, which Gideon was definitely not.
The only left-handed person on the team was Hotch.
The more Reid thinks about it, the more he realizes how much it makes sense.
Gideon was never one for sentiment, no matter the occasion. There was no chance he would’ve written him a letter in an attempt to absolve Reid of any guilt or to reassure Reid’s abandonment issues that his departure had nothing to do with Reid.
It also answers the question that has been rattling around in Reid’s head over the years; why Hotch had never gotten a letter.
After all, Hotch was once Gideon’s student as well. He knew him for longer than Reid and unlike his and Gideon’s relationship, theirs was given the opportunity to blossom into an equal partnership. For all intents and purposes, Hotch was deserving of a letter just as much as Reid.
The only difference was that Hotch never needed one, not the way Reid did.
It makes Reid feel like a fool.
How did he possibly believe that Jason Gideon of all people would write a letter for him and him only?
The realization that Gideon never even thought of him during one of the tumultuous times in his life, that he didn’t care (at least not enough, not when it mattered) leaves him with only the tattered pieces of himself. It hurt more than the initial loss of Gideon because at least then he was able to soothe himself with the reassurances that he was given a goodbye, something the others were not privy to.
Apparently, they were not privy to it because they had no need of it, Reid thought to himself bitterly.
The forged letter was a confirmation of Hotch’s thoughts on him; that he deemed him a pathetic mess that needed to be pacified with lies.
He doesn’t give himself a moment to think why Hotch’s poor opinion hurts more than Gideon’s lack of goodbye.
*
Not bothering with a courtesy knock, Reid lets himself into Hotch’s office silently with the letter clutched tightly in his hand.
He offers no reaction to the half-hearted glare Hotch sends his way as he closes the door behind him and makes his way over to the desk.
Ignoring Hotch's questioning looks, Reid places the letter down atop of the mountain of paperwork.
“‘The belief I had when I first met Sarah and it all seemed so right.’” Reid recites while staring at Hotch, “‘The belief in happy endings.’”
Even with Reid’s skill in profiling, had he not known Hotch for years and had he not been searching, he wouldn’t have been able to detect any changes in his microexpressions.
The only confirmation he has of Hotch’s guilt is the slight downward quirk of the side of his mouth.
“Gideon never wrote the letter.” he says, “You did.”
“Spencer—”
He offers no room for Hotch to plead his case as he begins to walk out of the office. Before he can wrench open the door, he stops.
“Next time, if you think I’m pathetic, you can just tell me,” Reid says, his voice breaking slightly, “You don’t have to create an elaborate charade.”
*
For the rest of the day, Reid avoids Hotch as much as he can without arousing suspicion. The others don’t seem to notice and if they do, they certainly don’t let it show.
It seems as though his plan of never speaking to Hotch unless necessary is going to work until the workday comes to an end.
Seeing as it’s a Friday, the others had filed out of the office as quickly as possible, eager to do whatever it is that they deem fun, while Reid has stayed back for a few more minutes to complete some last minute edits on some reports.
He was about to sign off on the report when a shadow cast itself over the white paper from behind him.
Closing his eyes for a mind, Reid attempts to gather strength for this confrontation.
He turns around in his swivel chair to face Hotch, who has car keys and briefcase in hand.
“C’mon,” Hotch says with a tilt of his head, “Why don’t I give you a lift back home?”
Reaching down, Reid picks up his messenger bag and puts it on before jumping out of his chair.
“No, thank you.” he answers curtly, “I don’t make it a habit to carpool with men that lie to me for years.”
Before Reid can push past Hotch and make his exit, he finds his wrist caught in Hotch’s hand, causing Reid to stumble into the other man.
He’s thrown off-guard by how close they’re standing, almost nose to nose.
“Just…” Hotch mumbles as he uses their minute height difference to look down at him, “Let me explain.”
His eyes stray from Hotch’s and he finds himself staring intensely at the other man’s tie.
“I don’t need an explanation.” he responds, “All I need to know is that you thought I was pathetic and that I was in desperate need of an emotional crutch so, I’d still be an asset to this team.
“I know enough, Hotch.”
Tugging his hand away, Reid attempts to free himself of Hotch’s grasp but the other man doesn’t waver. His fingers are still firmly wrapped around Reid’s wrist, keeping him in place.
“No, you don’t, Spencer.” Hotch says.
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything and Reid can see the gears turning in his head.
Then,
“Jason took you for granted.”
“What—”
“He took you for granted,” Hotch repeats, swallowing hard, “Not purposefully but, he did.”
Reid found himself blinking owlishly as he tries to keep up with the conversation at hand. He opens his mouth to respond but Hotch shares a look with him, asking him to stay silent until he’s done speaking.
“You were… young.” Hotch continues, “The same age as Stephen, and Gideon, well, he treated you as a son but offered no comfort to that of a father. I know your relationship was complicated but it wasn’t right that he allowed you to become a surrogate for his own son, knowing fully well he was unable to return the favour.
“He knew all of this and still chose to leave the way he did… and I knew it would hurt you, so I brought it upon myself to ease the pain as much as I could.”
Reid searched his face for any sign of deception. He hates himself for it, for needing to check. It was a habit that he had adopted after the truth of Prentiss’s death was revealed, after he became aware of just how well Hotch could lie when the situation calls for it.
“You thought I couldn’t handle it?” he whispers, sounding so unsure, feeling as young as he was when Gideon abandoned him.
Hotch shook his head.
“No, I knew you could handle it.” he asserts, “I just didn’t want you to have to.”
The office fell into a deafening silence. It was an admission, that Reid was sure of, but an admission of what?
Licking his lips, Reid finally allows himself to look at Hotch’s face.
“Why?”
“Can’t I keep this one secret to myself?” Hotch asks.
His question answers Reid’s own. He doesn’t need any more confirmation.
Ever since Hotch had become Unit Chief, his marriage with Haley had been on the rocks. At first, Haley had been forgiving, as much as a woman in her difficult position was allowed to be, but Reid had seen through the facade she was painfully trying to put on whenever she visited the BAU.
Unfortunately, Hotch was not as observant, or more accurately, he was too close to the situation to determine what was going on.
Haley always loved Hotch, before and after their divorce. It was, however, the unpleasant truth that she had fallen out of love with him shortly after Jack was born and she had come to the conclusion that even their son was not enough to pull Hotch away from his desk.
Reid just didn’t know that Hotch had also fallen out of love at the same time. Then again, he was too close to the situation as well.
“You loved me.” he confesses, “That’s why you wrote it.”
(Is it really a confession if it’s not yours to confess?)
Reid waits for the onslaught of denial and rejection. He waits for Hotch to begin asking how on Earth Reid came to the conclusion. He waits for him to begin shouting at him for questioning his loyalty to Haley.
It never comes.
“Love.” Hotch corrects, “I love you. Present. Not past tense.”
Well, Reid wasn’t preparing for that.
“Oh,” he squeaks out, tucking a tuft of hair behind his ear with his free hand, “That’s nice.”
His gaze falls on Hotch’s tie once more. He hears Hotch let out a soft chuckle and he turns many shades of red.
“What?” he hears Hotch tease, “You think I wouldn’t stay in love with you?”
Mutely, Reid keeps his eyes on the other man’s tie and shakes his head.
Hotch lets go of his wrist and Reid can’t help but feel disappointed until he feels a hand trail up to cup his jaw. His mind barely registers the sound of something hitting the floor before he feels another hand rest on his shoulder.
The blush on his face intensifies. Now, it was Reid’s turn to laugh, albeit in nervousness.
When Hotch leans in for a kiss, Reid can do nothing but allow him. He suppresses the urge to yelp when Hotch’s lips part his own open, making room for his tongue to explore Reid’s mouth. His knuckles grow white as he grasps the strap of his bag in both of his hands.
It takes him a moment before he begins to reciprocate but when he does, he lets go of his bag at once and slides his hands around Hotch’s neck. Hotch’s own drop down to wrap around his waist, so tightly that he nearly puts a bend in Reid’s spine.
As Hotch moves back to end the kiss, Reid attempts to chase his mouth and lets out a needy noise when he has to admit defeat.
“Nice?” Hotch asks, arms still encircling Reid’s torso.
“Yeah,” he answers with a cough, “Very nice.”
16 notes
·
View notes