Summary: Few days have passed since that night, but you're still replaying what happened with Hotch, even as you try and fail to continue life like normal
Rating: +18 explicit (DNI if not of age), y'all this chapter has it all, i promise, and it's all over the place too! ((multitasking baby!)) in italics flashbacks from that marathon night they had last chapter! TW: smut (dirty talking and whatever's in between) title from that song by Haim, ofc
WC: approx 7k -
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You press the button to the 11th floor, and the doors of the elevators close slowly with a thud. Your reflection on the mirror on the left catches your eye and the first thing you notice is the slow smile spreading unconsciously. Memories of the night with Aaron still linger, even if it’s been some time. Despite it all – the lack of sleep, the sore muscles and even the flush on your face that didn’t want to leave even with another cold shower – you felt energetic, full of adrenaline, and so fucking fresh like you’ve dozed off in a bed of flowers after that night with him. Or like you got laid and flooded with endorphins from it. Well, what you message Aaron, at least, it’s the first.
Then a few days later, today, you text him the same thing as that day.
You [8.30 am]: feeling great today, btw, like I slept outside over a lush meadow. It’s the weirdest thing.
You don’t expect a reply, not when he’s back to work, and so busy all the time.
Aaron (because you changed the name on his contact right as he left your house, because you wanted to celebrate in one way) [8:30]: I feel great too – strangest thing.
Aaron [8.31]: but we could make the meadow real as well. Maybe we'll include sleeping.
You blink at your phone, and your face heats up at once. God, scratch the sleep. The second thing you notice in your reflection is the way your shirt has ridden up, showing a sliver of your waist, a small hickey left as a remainder of that night – or sometime between the night time and the morning. You remember the way Aaron stared at you too before he made the imprint.
It feels like the longest seconds but it is the shortest span of time when he looks into your eyes, his chest rising up and down with his breathing. A moment ago his gaze traced the movement of your hand pushing back your hair over your shoulder. His eyes rest solely on you, and how you're like gravity to his body – at first, a chair away from you, helping you set the table with the meal he made for both. Without warning, his hands grip your hips and trap you against the dining table. A gasp escapes from your throat, your breath coming out in a shudder. Aaron kisses you quickly, hungrily. He parts away, leaving your pliant mouth wanting. And just like it is the most normal, casual thing ever, he says:
“Bend over and let me taste you again”
Your whole body seems to remember it even now, a shiver cascading down your spine, and making your breath short. You’d felt weak then too, almost reduced to a puddle just from his words and already throbbing like you hadn’t had him in your bed just a while back.
You drop the cutlery from your grasp, letting it fall with clatter on the tiles of your kitchen. You don’t dare move to pick them, but you follow your instinct – hands yanking Aaron’s collar and you crash his mouth to yours.
“God,” you breathe out in agony, “how are you so stupid hot?”
Aaron kisses like breathing – like gulping for oxygen, in fact – like he’s never kissed you before, and is trying to convince you to sleep with him. He doesn’t have to try. Or factually, he did manage to succeed. Your fingers fumble with his shirt, wanting to push it open with trembling hands – shaking because of eagerness. His hands climb up to grab yours to steady them. He murmurs “my sweet girl” against your lips, mouth sliding to your chin, underside of your jaw, and his teeth nip at your throat, making you moan.
He squeezes your fingers in his hands and chuckles, the sound making your heart fizzle and spark.
“Is that a yes?” he rasps against the side of your neck, voice full of amusement, his lips and tongue never quitting. The lower part of his body pushes you to the table’s side, the dishes filled with food? Something? You can’t even remember what he made, just that he insisted to cook or prepare something edible that you have to ultimately eat. Out of necessity. “I adore your begging.”
You shake your head, like a madman, a huge part of your consciousness screaming at you to keep your mind in place. Far away from the man you’re texting. Far, far away from any fantasies he’s left behind.
You hear your voice as you say no, even though your brain reprimands you for being foolish, stupidest person alive even, and then you glance quickly at the warm food you’ve neatly placed over the table. The push of his body lead you closer to it and it is too late. The decision you make is influenced by the scent reaching your nostrils and the rumbles of your empty stomach, because food is the only thing on your mind.
“No because, God, okay, listen--”
His lips tug into a small smile, brows going up, when he catches you glance at the food again then look away. “I am.”
“I have a reason” your voice is faint, “and that’s... uh, that’s...”
He frowns a teensy bit, still amused, and the dimples at the corners of his mouth make you melt further. You maneuver a hand up to cover his smile and you groan when even that doesn’t make the attraction fade away the slightest. Not even a little bit. Unfair. His eyes are tender, beautiful and warm.
“Shut up.” you groan, “Don’t look at me like that, I’m trying to speak.”
His laugh is contagious, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, go ahead”
He tries his best to go to his Hotch persona which sucks for you because you fell for that – for him first.
“Stop it -” Aaron lets your hand go in favor for cradling the side of your face, and you giggle, the heat of his palm against your throat and jaw too much, too sweet and caring to not jumble up your insides, “I'm trying to let you down easy”
“Oh, I see” he mutters, grinning, “is that what this is? Because I don’t see you disappointed at all”
His thumb traces the smile on your face, stopping then below your chin. You lean into the touch and tug him even closer, chest pressed to chest, “I’m not, because I am hungry.”
Aaron looks at you in reverie, like what you’re saying makes absolute sense just because you’re the one saying it.
“Only that?”
“Yes", you mumble sheepishly, “I chose food.”
He leans to press a kiss over the tip of your nose, and you’re so red you could be fixed right into the tomato salad he carefully chopped up.
“I see how it is” he says through laughter. He lets you go to grab a piece of bread behind you and bite out a chunk, then plops down on the chair closest to you.
You watch hypnotized the angle of his jawline and how it moves while he chews, and the lower part of your belly comes alive again.
“But, try again later.”
Aaron looks at you while you sit down, then loops a hand around the back of your chair and brings you nearer. You swallow thickly, feeling parched. Later, you convince yourself.
You try your hardest to squash the memories down, because being turned on at work and especially while away from Aaron is the worst thing in the world. Of course, your mind doesn’t listen, because it catapults you back to a moment later on that flashback.
A moment where a beautiful, insatiable man, slaps your hips into his, and then dives down to kiss the curve of your spine, and mouth at your hips possessively, your voice betraying how he affects you. Aaron groans your name, rises up to nip at your throat. He grits his teeth and fucks you harder from behind, your chest and cheek pressed against the cleared and cleaned table - done so; hastily and urgently.
“God,” you pant, rocking desperately against him, nails holding so tight to the wood you’re sure the purple paint is going to chip away, “Yes, yes, yes”
“I can’t get enough of this” Aaron chokes out, moving his hands to grasp at your hips. He lifts you up, slips out and then twists you around so you’re facing him. “I can’t get enough of you"
He rolls you until you’re splayed over the surface, and he thrusts inside you again, his hands clutching the edge of the table behind your head. Your moans, his grunts and appraisals fill up the otherwise quiet room; and the table creaks, Aaron holding tight as he fucks you harder and faster, your legs spreading wider, body arching for him.
You snap out of it, and the return to reality is harsher than you can predict. Tommy stands before you.
“Are you back on Earth?” he asks with a high-pitched voice, “That freaked me the hell out.”
“What?” you hope you sound normal, reasonable, “Sorry?”
“You zoned out for a good five minutes.” At the incredulous look on your face, he continues. “I saw you arrive just as I did so I said hi and you were doing –that--” he looks pointedly at your phone still in your hands, “and I thought you received some bad news, or something shocking about a case. I even tried to lean over and see what it was because you were so unresponsive--”
“Wait” you’re back to fully-fledged embarrassment, “you saw my phone?”
He scoffs. “No. That was also locked. I don’t even know what you must have read because you completely shut down”
“Right” you shrink in yourself, and shove your phone in your backpack. “Right. It was nothing. I don’t even remember”
You move past him and through the already busy floor to get to your desk. Unfortunately, Tommy trails behind.
“So, what was it?”
“What was what?” you deadpan, throwing your belongings over your desk. They land anywhere but on it. You don’t even think about bending over to retrieve anything. What’s gone is gone. Time to buy new phone, backpack, car keys, even a car – why the hell not, right?
“You freezing like that. Sure, hope that doesn’t happen in the field” he sits down on his desk, and you curse – not the for the first time – that it’s in front of yours. “Technology really is a disease”
You glare at him. “Tom, I know for a fact you use your phone 24/7.”
As if proving your point, he’s already texting, fingers moving so quickly he doesn’t even hear you speak. “What was that?”
“Hypocrite” you mumble under your breath and finally, after a billion years, take your seat and turn on your work computer.
Your phone lures you from inside your backpack and it’s only logical you reach for it to text back, while your pc screen flashes to life.
You [8.36]: not allowed to text me so early anymore. Can’t explain why without it turning R-rated. And you’re not allowed to make assumptions either.
“Typical” Tommy mutters while you type, and rolls his eyes.
Aaron doesn’t send a reply, not even during his lunch time, but you chug it up to him being caught in meetings or briefings. The one person who reaches out to you, out of all people, is Matt. You see his name on the screen and groan, earning another judgmental look from Tommy who’s eating leftover pizza in the break room like you. You pick up the phone and mumble hello through a mouthful.
“Yello, how’s your boring life going?” Matt greets, “Is it weird when you sext someone and they reply back with book recommendations?”
You almost choke on the bite. Tommy shoves a water bottle your way and you drink like you’re about to die.
“Matt, I hope to fucking God you didn’t know it was me before saying any of those words aloud, to me. To me”
He huffs out in frustration. “My friends are at work. None of them pick up at this hour but you.”
“That will change right the fuck now. Delete my number. I’m blocking you. Goodbye.”
Tommy nods at your words, not even listening to the other part of the conversation. It makes you almost laugh. Matt hisses, curses and you threaten again and he changes his tactic.
“Wait. Wait, I’m sorry, okay. Let me rephrase: what happens when the guy you... once talked to, doesn’t get that you’re up for more... talking, but with no real attachment to the larger topic of your conversation?”
You and Tommy share a look and he seems to catch immediately what aspect of life you’re conversing on the phone about, just because it’s always been him on the end of these phone calls. Never you. He always gave people advices over the phone. Friends who asked him about relationships or people they dated like it was the most urgent call - Love Talk. He stands up and does a little bow to you, then does the motion of taking off an invisible crown to hand it over to you. You nod, then flash him a smile.
“Our Jerry, all grown up” he pats your head and goes out, leaving you alone.
“Wait, was that the guy you work with?” your brother goes into another tangent, after hearing Tommy’s voice, “the kind of tall one? Who’s also funny? He’s so attractive, is he --”
“Matt” you hiss, “didn’t you call for Spencer? Focus.”
“But --”
“He’s straighter than a ruler. Annoying as hell, too”
Matt sighs in defeat. “I think I have a type. If I’d squint and have Spencer and him in front of me, I probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. God, and they’re both cops too...”
"Spencer is taller and lankier." You pinch the bridge of your nose feeling a headache coming. “Matt, did you call me for something? There was a reason, right? I’m pretty sure Spencer doesn’t do one-night stands. Literally anybody could have told you that.”
“But...” he inhales, exhales back louder, “Maybe he does. You don’t know him. And we, uh, talked so well.” he sounds wistful, “he’s so good at... communicating.”
You feel the food in your stomach turn and knot, and nausea rises up. “Gross. I just ate and now I’m going to puke. I never want to hear about your love life again”
“Wait!” he yells, “he is funny, and charming.” His voice drops low, softer than before, more vulnerable. “I’m just concerned, because I have two kids. You think a traveling FBI profiler who teaches during his free time would willingly date a single father? I come with baggage.”
The idea that his divorce has left him as broken like it first happened pulls at your heartstrings. You’re grateful that Tommy gave you the privacy for this.
“You’re a dumbass.” you say in aggressive affection, “Your kids are great. I love them even more than I do you.”
“God, I know” he interjects with a laugh. “But you also kind of have to.”
“I don’t” you say nonchalantly, “but you’re raising them well, and less messed up than dad raised us.”
You’re not sure where this is coming from but for some reason it makes you remember that discussion with Aaron at the bar. You’d asked him about his childhood while you ate breakfast when he spent the night at your place, and amongst bites of food he told you about Sean and their father.
“You don’t know Spencer”, you go on, thinking back at that case with the kidnapped kid.
He was the one the kid opened up to, and your eyes well up just remembering the gentle tone of Spencer’s voice while speaking.
“He’s good with kids. And I’m sure with all that knowledge about magic tricks he’s easy to be around.”
Matt groans, his voice a bit strained. “I hate that. You should have told me the opposite. Because now I---” he lets out a small sound, like a squeal, “never mind, he just texted me back again. I’ve got to go! Bye, pest”
Like clockwork your phone vibrates too with a message from Hotch.
Aaron [14:02]: sorry, briefing. We’re heading to Boston. I’ll ask you properly when I’m alone
You text back few encouraging words, squashing down the want to send a bunch of heart emojis too. Ever since he left your apartment you’ve been carrying your phone everywhere, awaiting calls and messages from him, like a lovesick puppy.
“I have to go now” Aaron says, hand over the handle of your door, but hovering all the same, both caught in the threshold, not wanting to part just yet. His other hand dances across the back of your waist, the press of the pad of his fingers on your skin making you electric.
“I have to pick up Spencer”
“Very responsible” you mumble with a small smile, your hand tight around his tie like a leash, keeping him pressed to you.
Not that he needs any encouragement when he’s a hairbreadth away. His eyes dart from your eyes to your mouth, and yours do the same with him.
“You should go, then”
“Mhm” he nods, his voice deep.
He bends, to brush his lips against yours in the softest graze, but enough that your eyes flutter, and a hum of pleasure carves out your throat.
“I should, shouldn’t I?”, Aaron mutters low, and you tug him down, refusing to play the game of who-gives-up-first, and simply crush him to you, and this time when you kiss it is passionate and messy. His hands rise up at once to cradle your jaw and tilt your head to the side, while he plies your mouth open for his tongue to savor you one last time.
The day after he left, you’d had that same kiss running on repeat on your head, like the best scene of a movie. Now, though, you’re left with the imprint of his warm hands around your neck. Their size and grasp, and the way he always knew how to kiss you so that your knees would almost buckle.
“You’re being so strange today” Tommy huffs and puffs and you zero in on your surroundings.
Luckily, you’re near your desk, though now, unlike the first time, you’re aware you spaced out. He’s perched on his desk, drinking a cup of coffee and looks at you like you’ve got a clown hat on, and a big puffy red nose on your face.
“I saw you head out to print papers and then come back with nothing” he lists, lifting a finger to count, “that happened three other times. Then, when you went to get coffee, you seemed drugged, but not in your usual coffee-induced euphoria. And then you walked right into the edge of your desk and didn’t even flinch.”
He squints and looks you up and down. You stay in place, and force yourself to think about anything at all but Aaron. Anything that isn’t a flashback of having sex with him or of his mouth, his smile, his face, his voice... God, his voice. You’ll have to call him as soon as you get home, that’s how impatient you feel.
“Oh. My. God” Tommy enunciates slowly, eyes wide, “I figured it out”
You freeze, face heating up as if he’s suddenly a mind reader.
“You didn’t receive bad news. You got la--”
Your instincts take over, and you slap a hand over his mouth. “-id! You had sex!”
His brows shoot up at your reaction but luckily nobody around you both – which makes for the entirety of the precinct since it’s a slow day – didn't hear his words.
“I’m going to take my hand off but don’t you dare yell, okay?”
He nods slowly, and you do as you said, and take a napkin off his desk and wipe your hand aggressively.
“Rude” he mumbles, looking at your actions, “I’m happy for you. Really. I just thought we’re friends enough that you’d tell me about your life”
“No” you say without thinking. “And you’re wrong about what you said.”
“So” he studies your face, “you didn’t get--” At your pointed stare, he chooses to spell the word letter by letter. “L-A-I-D? Because you look the same as when that hot lawyer who was helping on an FBI case showed up a summer ago, demanding to speak with the detectives in charge. She was here for only a week and you were stumbling into everything and walking like a zombie around the office for a month after”
You’re hotter, running like a lit stove, or a generator and Tommy laughs.
“Oh, yes” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I remember her. You caved in and told me you dated her after two months. So, just cut to the chase. You’re seeing someone and you miss them.”
You scoff. Since when is Tommy a good detective?
So, maybe you miss Aaron – is that what all these flashbacks are there to tell you? Some kind of joke your subconscious is playing out just to see if you can multitask? Because you can’t and you figured that out today while running errands and thinking about him.
He checks his watch at your silence and stands up. “Okay, let’s move this discussion for tomorrow then. I’m not sticking around at work to gossip – I don’t like it here very much.”
You watch him gather his stuff and hastily put on a jacket. And you frown – is it already time to leave? The time on your laptop says so, and so does the rest of the people changing shifts around you. But your head is somewhere else. Even with the case and being out of state, Aaron still made sure to text, so you can’t help the little droplet of disappointment you feel when you have no new notifications. You stretch your limbs and make sure to collect everything before heading out, and decide that as soon as you’re home, you’re going to strategize ways to be more focused at work.
“How about this one?” you ask, coming out of your wardrobe wearing a tiny black dress, one Aaron has never seen before. “The floral sundress I wore in Ohio or this one?”
He looks at you from the bed, sitting up and leaning back against your headboard. Somehow in the midst of it all, when looking for clothes to wear after a needed shower, you’d started a game of What’s Hotter? since he says, much too casually during sex, something that made your legs give out from under you.
He held you tight as your body gave in, the strength and urgency of riding him over your bed leaving you at once as you fell back, while his hands squeezing your hips kept your legs around him. Time stopped at that moment, your legs quivering and shaking from the impact of your orgasm, your whimpers so breathless and incoherent, they sounded like they were from someone else, not you. Someone who like you received the same treatment: your mind blown away from the slow, possessive massages of Aaron’s hands over your breasts. Someone who also like you received those same kisses and bites: on your throat, over your chest, while you ground over his dick. It was you who was ravaged by him, but your voice sounded foreign and far away.
He picked up the motions, hands guiding you up and down sharply over him, just as he thrusted up and into you. And with your eyes closed, and legs still shaking, overstimulated and spent, you threw a hand over your face, and the other around your throat. He guided your body to his restlessly. Grunts of “There you go my pretty little toy, fucked senseless and stupid, so beautiful” and “I’m right here” and sweet appraisals of “That’s my good girl. I’m proud of you."
What sent you over the edge though was a simple statement: “I wanted to rip off that sundress when I first saw you - make you cry and come for me right then and there”
After all that was over, and he washed and took care of you with tender touches - you settle on picking out other outfits that have Sundress Potential.
Aaron laughs it off at first, but then his eyes pan to your figure trying out all the clothes you show him, and he’s more focused than you are.
“Cute” he settles on for the black dress. “You look sweet"
“Hmph” you grunt and slip it off in an instant.
You feel his eyes on you when you head back into the wardrobe. You're only in your underwear since some of these dresses come with built-in bras. Nothing to do with how he can’t seem to look away or how much you enjoy his attention.
“What about this one?” It’s another short dress, neutral-colored as well, but not as fun as the floral dresses.
Aaron looks at you appreciatively, grinning. “You wear that to work, don’t you?”
You feign offense. “How--? How did you even know?”
He shrugs, “Professional secret”
You undress again, and laugh at his words, even though none of the five outfits you tried ignited your intended reaction out of him. Then, like lightning, you remember that list of yours you’d made up after the sundress comment.
“This one is a surprise” you yell out, sliding into the suit pants, out of his view. “And I know I’m going to win”
“It’s a race?” he asks, “I had no idea. I feel like I can’t lose either way”
Your heart hammers at his gentle words, and you have to take a minute to let yourself calm down. You shake your wild hair with your hands and then waltz out – in the very first suit he saw you in.
Aaron’s smile freezes on his face, his gaze becoming more intense, more unfiltered. It makes you self-confident, powerful, and when you push away the ends of the suit jacket behind you to shove your hands in the pockets of your pants – you feel utterly valued and sexy. And like you’re not wearing anything anymore.
“What do you think?” you ask with a knowing smile. “Did I win?”
He straightens up on the bed then stands up, making you halt in your makeshift catwalk around the bedroom. He's got shorts and a navy t-shirt on, and there’s few strands of hair over his forehead, out of his usually strict hairstyle. Everything about him is broad and mouth-watering.
“You’ve won me over” Aaron says, hand cupping your face, “Every time”
His brown eyes are sincere, and you stumble over your words. “Even-even, with the previous outfits?”
“With anything on” he mutters tenderly, slowly, ”or nothing”
Then he kisses your breath away, hoists you off the floor and guides your legs around his waist.
You shut the door of your bathroom and wash out your mouth from the leftover toothpaste. Your face still looks sunburned when you catch your reflection in the mirror. Maybe it’s just something you do now whenever you think about Aaron. You plop on your bed, and stare at your phone. It’s almost midnight and no calls yet. He must still be working, still carrying the world in his shoulders like it’s his only burden. Your heart feels for him and his responsibilities and not for the first time you think back at how his wife passed away.
Staring up at the ceiling, your only wish is that he gets rest tonight – and you type that out in a quick text, in the most ridiculous way you can think of.
You [00:02am]: Goodnight. Hope you sleep better than you slept at my place. Is it selfish to say I want you to dream of me?
When five more minutes past, you double-text, like a freak. And sext, too.
You [00:07am]: I hope you dream of my hands, specifically.
You [00: 10am]: One on your thigh and the other on your...
And you’re typing out the rest when your phone starts shaking in your hands with an incoming call. You get cold all over.
“Matt?” you answer sitting up at once, “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
“Listen” he rushes out, voice in a hush, “I was instructed Not to do this but I can’t keep secrets. Everyone knows this”
“What in God’s name are you talking about?”, you hiss. “Are you drunk? Of course I know you can’t keep secrets. You told The Sheriff about New York, you dumbass”
“Listen--” he shushes you, “I’m giving you a quick recap and I can’t tell anymore or he’ll kill me--”
Your voice rises up a few octaves at his alarming sentence. “WHAT?”
“ Spencer is here” Matt confesses, and you blink, remembering slowly Aaron’s text about them heading to Boston. Of course, he went to see Matt. That’s kind of adorable.
“Wait. Why would he kill you? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know how to tell you this” his voice is frantic, “but he told me your boyfriend is in danger. They’re figuring it out and trying to help, obviously but...”
You stand up so quickly you feel vertigo.
“Aaron?”
“Yes!” he hisses, “Look I’m not supposed to even tell you this but I know you have feelings for the guy-”
“Matt!” you yell out, stopping his rambling. “What happened to Aaron? Is he in the hospital?”
He exhales, loudly and slowly over the speaker; then, just as you think he’s going to faint or worse – run out of phone data, he speaks.
“Aaron Hotchner has been kidnapped”
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Tagging @laurensprentiss (since u made me post this 🤠) @unicornprancing , @genevievedarcygrangerreading and @the-modernmary (lemme know if u want me to remove tags! 🧡)
Summary: Few days have passed since that night, but you're still replaying what happened with Hotch, even as you try and fail to continue life like normal
Rating: +18 explicit (DNI if not of age), y'all this chapter has it all, i promise, and it's all over the place too! ((multitasking baby!)) in italics flashbacks from that marathon night they had last chapter! TW: smut (dirty talking and whatever's in between) title from that song by Haim, ofc
WC: approx 7k -
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You press the button to the 11th floor, and the doors of the elevators close slowly with a thud. Your reflection on the mirror on the left catches your eye and the first thing you notice is the slow smile spreading unconsciously. Memories of the night with Aaron still linger, even if it’s been some time. Despite it all – the lack of sleep, the sore muscles and even the flush on your face that didn’t want to leave even with another cold shower – you felt energetic, full of adrenaline, and so fucking fresh like you’ve dozed off in a bed of flowers after that night with him. Or like you got laid and flooded with endorphins from it. Well, what you message Aaron, at least, it’s the first.
Then a few days later, today, you text him the same thing as that day.
You [8.30 am]: feeling great today, btw, like I slept outside over a lush meadow. It’s the weirdest thing.
You don’t expect a reply, not when he’s back to work, and so busy all the time.
Aaron (because you changed the name on his contact right as he left your house, because you wanted to celebrate in one way) [8:30]: I feel great too – strangest thing.
Aaron [8.31]: but we could make the meadow real as well. Maybe we'll include sleeping.
You blink at your phone, and your face heats up at once. God, scratch the sleep. The second thing you notice in your reflection is the way your shirt has ridden up, showing a sliver of your waist, a small hickey left as a remainder of that night – or sometime between the night time and the morning. You remember the way Aaron stared at you too before he made the imprint.
It feels like the longest seconds but it is the shortest span of time when he looks into your eyes, his chest rising up and down with his breathing. A moment ago his gaze traced the movement of your hand pushing back your hair over your shoulder. His eyes rest solely on you, and how you're like gravity to his body – at first, a chair away from you, helping you set the table with the meal he made for both. Without warning, his hands grip your hips and trap you against the dining table. A gasp escapes from your throat, your breath coming out in a shudder. Aaron kisses you quickly, hungrily. He parts away, leaving your pliant mouth wanting. And just like it is the most normal, casual thing ever, he says:
“Bend over and let me taste you again”
Your whole body seems to remember it even now, a shiver cascading down your spine, and making your breath short. You’d felt weak then too, almost reduced to a puddle just from his words and already throbbing like you hadn’t had him in your bed just a while back.
You drop the cutlery from your grasp, letting it fall with clatter on the tiles of your kitchen. You don’t dare move to pick them, but you follow your instinct – hands yanking Aaron’s collar and you crash his mouth to yours.
“God,” you breathe out in agony, “how are you so stupid hot?”
Aaron kisses like breathing – like gulping for oxygen, in fact – like he’s never kissed you before, and is trying to convince you to sleep with him. He doesn’t have to try. Or factually, he did manage to succeed. Your fingers fumble with his shirt, wanting to push it open with trembling hands – shaking because of eagerness. His hands climb up to grab yours to steady them. He murmurs “my sweet girl” against your lips, mouth sliding to your chin, underside of your jaw, and his teeth nip at your throat, making you moan.
He squeezes your fingers in his hands and chuckles, the sound making your heart fizzle and spark.
“Is that a yes?” he rasps against the side of your neck, voice full of amusement, his lips and tongue never quitting. The lower part of his body pushes you to the table’s side, the dishes filled with food? Something? You can’t even remember what he made, just that he insisted to cook or prepare something edible that you have to ultimately eat. Out of necessity. “I adore your begging.”
You shake your head, like a madman, a huge part of your consciousness screaming at you to keep your mind in place. Far away from the man you’re texting. Far, far away from any fantasies he’s left behind.
You hear your voice as you say no, even though your brain reprimands you for being foolish, stupidest person alive even, and then you glance quickly at the warm food you’ve neatly placed over the table. The push of his body lead you closer to it and it is too late. The decision you make is influenced by the scent reaching your nostrils and the rumbles of your empty stomach, because food is the only thing on your mind.
“No because, God, okay, listen--”
His lips tug into a small smile, brows going up, when he catches you glance at the food again then look away. “I am.”
“I have a reason” your voice is faint, “and that’s... uh, that’s...”
He frowns a teensy bit, still amused, and the dimples at the corners of his mouth make you melt further. You maneuver a hand up to cover his smile and you groan when even that doesn’t make the attraction fade away the slightest. Not even a little bit. Unfair. His eyes are tender, beautiful and warm.
“Shut up.” you groan, “Don’t look at me like that, I’m trying to speak.”
His laugh is contagious, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, go ahead”
He tries his best to go to his Hotch persona which sucks for you because you fell for that – for him first.
“Stop it -” Aaron lets your hand go in favor for cradling the side of your face, and you giggle, the heat of his palm against your throat and jaw too much, too sweet and caring to not jumble up your insides, “I'm trying to let you down easy”
“Oh, I see” he mutters, grinning, “is that what this is? Because I don’t see you disappointed at all”
His thumb traces the smile on your face, stopping then below your chin. You lean into the touch and tug him even closer, chest pressed to chest, “I’m not, because I am hungry.”
Aaron looks at you in reverie, like what you’re saying makes absolute sense just because you’re the one saying it.
“Only that?”
“Yes", you mumble sheepishly, “I chose food.”
He leans to press a kiss over the tip of your nose, and you’re so red you could be fixed right into the tomato salad he carefully chopped up.
“I see how it is” he says through laughter. He lets you go to grab a piece of bread behind you and bite out a chunk, then plops down on the chair closest to you.
You watch hypnotized the angle of his jawline and how it moves while he chews, and the lower part of your belly comes alive again.
“But, try again later.”
Aaron looks at you while you sit down, then loops a hand around the back of your chair and brings you nearer. You swallow thickly, feeling parched. Later, you convince yourself.
You try your hardest to squash the memories down, because being turned on at work and especially while away from Aaron is the worst thing in the world. Of course, your mind doesn’t listen, because it catapults you back to a moment later on that flashback.
A moment where a beautiful, insatiable man, slaps your hips into his, and then dives down to kiss the curve of your spine, and mouth at your hips possessively, your voice betraying how he affects you. Aaron groans your name, rises up to nip at your throat. He grits his teeth and fucks you harder from behind, your chest and cheek pressed against the cleared and cleaned table - done so; hastily and urgently.
“God,” you pant, rocking desperately against him, nails holding so tight to the wood you’re sure the purple paint is going to chip away, “Yes, yes, yes”
“I can’t get enough of this” Aaron chokes out, moving his hands to grasp at your hips. He lifts you up, slips out and then twists you around so you’re facing him. “I can’t get enough of you"
He rolls you until you’re splayed over the surface, and he thrusts inside you again, his hands clutching the edge of the table behind your head. Your moans, his grunts and appraisals fill up the otherwise quiet room; and the table creaks, Aaron holding tight as he fucks you harder and faster, your legs spreading wider, body arching for him.
You snap out of it, and the return to reality is harsher than you can predict. Tommy stands before you.
“Are you back on Earth?” he asks with a high-pitched voice, “That freaked me the hell out.”
“What?” you hope you sound normal, reasonable, “Sorry?”
“You zoned out for a good five minutes.” At the incredulous look on your face, he continues. “I saw you arrive just as I did so I said hi and you were doing –that--” he looks pointedly at your phone still in your hands, “and I thought you received some bad news, or something shocking about a case. I even tried to lean over and see what it was because you were so unresponsive--”
“Wait” you’re back to fully-fledged embarrassment, “you saw my phone?”
He scoffs. “No. That was also locked. I don’t even know what you must have read because you completely shut down”
“Right” you shrink in yourself, and shove your phone in your backpack. “Right. It was nothing. I don’t even remember”
You move past him and through the already busy floor to get to your desk. Unfortunately, Tommy trails behind.
“So, what was it?”
“What was what?” you deadpan, throwing your belongings over your desk. They land anywhere but on it. You don’t even think about bending over to retrieve anything. What’s gone is gone. Time to buy new phone, backpack, car keys, even a car – why the hell not, right?
“You freezing like that. Sure, hope that doesn’t happen in the field” he sits down on his desk, and you curse – not the for the first time – that it’s in front of yours. “Technology really is a disease”
You glare at him. “Tom, I know for a fact you use your phone 24/7.”
As if proving your point, he’s already texting, fingers moving so quickly he doesn’t even hear you speak. “What was that?”
“Hypocrite” you mumble under your breath and finally, after a billion years, take your seat and turn on your work computer.
Your phone lures you from inside your backpack and it’s only logical you reach for it to text back, while your pc screen flashes to life.
You [8.36]: not allowed to text me so early anymore. Can’t explain why without it turning R-rated. And you’re not allowed to make assumptions either.
“Typical” Tommy mutters while you type, and rolls his eyes.
Aaron doesn’t send a reply, not even during his lunch time, but you chug it up to him being caught in meetings or briefings. The one person who reaches out to you, out of all people, is Matt. You see his name on the screen and groan, earning another judgmental look from Tommy who’s eating leftover pizza in the break room like you. You pick up the phone and mumble hello through a mouthful.
“Yello, how’s your boring life going?” Matt greets, “Is it weird when you sext someone and they reply back with book recommendations?”
You almost choke on the bite. Tommy shoves a water bottle your way and you drink like you’re about to die.
“Matt, I hope to fucking God you didn’t know it was me before saying any of those words aloud, to me. To me”
He huffs out in frustration. “My friends are at work. None of them pick up at this hour but you.”
“That will change right the fuck now. Delete my number. I’m blocking you. Goodbye.”
Tommy nods at your words, not even listening to the other part of the conversation. It makes you almost laugh. Matt hisses, curses and you threaten again and he changes his tactic.
“Wait. Wait, I’m sorry, okay. Let me rephrase: what happens when the guy you... once talked to, doesn’t get that you’re up for more... talking, but with no real attachment to the larger topic of your conversation?”
You and Tommy share a look and he seems to catch immediately what aspect of life you’re conversing on the phone about, just because it’s always been him on the end of these phone calls. Never you. He always gave people advices over the phone. Friends who asked him about relationships or people they dated like it was the most urgent call - Love Talk. He stands up and does a little bow to you, then does the motion of taking off an invisible crown to hand it over to you. You nod, then flash him a smile.
“Our Jerry, all grown up” he pats your head and goes out, leaving you alone.
“Wait, was that the guy you work with?” your brother goes into another tangent, after hearing Tommy’s voice, “the kind of tall one? Who’s also funny? He’s so attractive, is he --”
“Matt” you hiss, “didn’t you call for Spencer? Focus.”
“But --”
“He’s straighter than a ruler. Annoying as hell, too”
Matt sighs in defeat. “I think I have a type. If I’d squint and have Spencer and him in front of me, I probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. God, and they’re both cops too...”
"Spencer is taller and lankier." You pinch the bridge of your nose feeling a headache coming. “Matt, did you call me for something? There was a reason, right? I’m pretty sure Spencer doesn’t do one-night stands. Literally anybody could have told you that.”
“But...” he inhales, exhales back louder, “Maybe he does. You don’t know him. And we, uh, talked so well.” he sounds wistful, “he’s so good at... communicating.”
You feel the food in your stomach turn and knot, and nausea rises up. “Gross. I just ate and now I’m going to puke. I never want to hear about your love life again”
“Wait!” he yells, “he is funny, and charming.” His voice drops low, softer than before, more vulnerable. “I’m just concerned, because I have two kids. You think a traveling FBI profiler who teaches during his free time would willingly date a single father? I come with baggage.”
The idea that his divorce has left him as broken like it first happened pulls at your heartstrings. You’re grateful that Tommy gave you the privacy for this.
“You’re a dumbass.” you say in aggressive affection, “Your kids are great. I love them even more than I do you.”
“God, I know” he interjects with a laugh. “But you also kind of have to.”
“I don’t” you say nonchalantly, “but you’re raising them well, and less messed up than dad raised us.”
You’re not sure where this is coming from but for some reason it makes you remember that discussion with Aaron at the bar. You’d asked him about his childhood while you ate breakfast when he spent the night at your place, and amongst bites of food he told you about Sean and their father.
“You don’t know Spencer”, you go on, thinking back at that case with the kidnapped kid.
He was the one the kid opened up to, and your eyes well up just remembering the gentle tone of Spencer’s voice while speaking.
“He’s good with kids. And I’m sure with all that knowledge about magic tricks he’s easy to be around.”
Matt groans, his voice a bit strained. “I hate that. You should have told me the opposite. Because now I---” he lets out a small sound, like a squeal, “never mind, he just texted me back again. I’ve got to go! Bye, pest”
Like clockwork your phone vibrates too with a message from Hotch.
Aaron [14:02]: sorry, briefing. We’re heading to Boston. I’ll ask you properly when I’m alone
You text back few encouraging words, squashing down the want to send a bunch of heart emojis too. Ever since he left your apartment you’ve been carrying your phone everywhere, awaiting calls and messages from him, like a lovesick puppy.
“I have to go now” Aaron says, hand over the handle of your door, but hovering all the same, both caught in the threshold, not wanting to part just yet. His other hand dances across the back of your waist, the press of the pad of his fingers on your skin making you electric.
“I have to pick up Spencer”
“Very responsible” you mumble with a small smile, your hand tight around his tie like a leash, keeping him pressed to you.
Not that he needs any encouragement when he’s a hairbreadth away. His eyes dart from your eyes to your mouth, and yours do the same with him.
“You should go, then”
“Mhm” he nods, his voice deep.
He bends, to brush his lips against yours in the softest graze, but enough that your eyes flutter, and a hum of pleasure carves out your throat.
“I should, shouldn’t I?”, Aaron mutters low, and you tug him down, refusing to play the game of who-gives-up-first, and simply crush him to you, and this time when you kiss it is passionate and messy. His hands rise up at once to cradle your jaw and tilt your head to the side, while he plies your mouth open for his tongue to savor you one last time.
The day after he left, you’d had that same kiss running on repeat on your head, like the best scene of a movie. Now, though, you’re left with the imprint of his warm hands around your neck. Their size and grasp, and the way he always knew how to kiss you so that your knees would almost buckle.
“You’re being so strange today” Tommy huffs and puffs and you zero in on your surroundings.
Luckily, you’re near your desk, though now, unlike the first time, you’re aware you spaced out. He’s perched on his desk, drinking a cup of coffee and looks at you like you’ve got a clown hat on, and a big puffy red nose on your face.
“I saw you head out to print papers and then come back with nothing” he lists, lifting a finger to count, “that happened three other times. Then, when you went to get coffee, you seemed drugged, but not in your usual coffee-induced euphoria. And then you walked right into the edge of your desk and didn’t even flinch.”
He squints and looks you up and down. You stay in place, and force yourself to think about anything at all but Aaron. Anything that isn’t a flashback of having sex with him or of his mouth, his smile, his face, his voice... God, his voice. You’ll have to call him as soon as you get home, that’s how impatient you feel.
“Oh. My. God” Tommy enunciates slowly, eyes wide, “I figured it out”
You freeze, face heating up as if he’s suddenly a mind reader.
“You didn’t receive bad news. You got la--”
Your instincts take over, and you slap a hand over his mouth. “-id! You had sex!”
His brows shoot up at your reaction but luckily nobody around you both – which makes for the entirety of the precinct since it’s a slow day – didn't hear his words.
“I’m going to take my hand off but don’t you dare yell, okay?”
He nods slowly, and you do as you said, and take a napkin off his desk and wipe your hand aggressively.
“Rude” he mumbles, looking at your actions, “I’m happy for you. Really. I just thought we’re friends enough that you’d tell me about your life”
“No” you say without thinking. “And you’re wrong about what you said.”
“So” he studies your face, “you didn’t get--” At your pointed stare, he chooses to spell the word letter by letter. “L-A-I-D? Because you look the same as when that hot lawyer who was helping on an FBI case showed up a summer ago, demanding to speak with the detectives in charge. She was here for only a week and you were stumbling into everything and walking like a zombie around the office for a month after”
You’re hotter, running like a lit stove, or a generator and Tommy laughs.
“Oh, yes” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I remember her. You caved in and told me you dated her after two months. So, just cut to the chase. You’re seeing someone and you miss them.”
You scoff. Since when is Tommy a good detective?
So, maybe you miss Aaron – is that what all these flashbacks are there to tell you? Some kind of joke your subconscious is playing out just to see if you can multitask? Because you can’t and you figured that out today while running errands and thinking about him.
He checks his watch at your silence and stands up. “Okay, let’s move this discussion for tomorrow then. I’m not sticking around at work to gossip – I don’t like it here very much.”
You watch him gather his stuff and hastily put on a jacket. And you frown – is it already time to leave? The time on your laptop says so, and so does the rest of the people changing shifts around you. But your head is somewhere else. Even with the case and being out of state, Aaron still made sure to text, so you can’t help the little droplet of disappointment you feel when you have no new notifications. You stretch your limbs and make sure to collect everything before heading out, and decide that as soon as you’re home, you’re going to strategize ways to be more focused at work.
“How about this one?” you ask, coming out of your wardrobe wearing a tiny black dress, one Aaron has never seen before. “The floral sundress I wore in Ohio or this one?”
He looks at you from the bed, sitting up and leaning back against your headboard. Somehow in the midst of it all, when looking for clothes to wear after a needed shower, you’d started a game of What’s Hotter? since he says, much too casually during sex, something that made your legs give out from under you.
He held you tight as your body gave in, the strength and urgency of riding him over your bed leaving you at once as you fell back, while his hands squeezing your hips kept your legs around him. Time stopped at that moment, your legs quivering and shaking from the impact of your orgasm, your whimpers so breathless and incoherent, they sounded like they were from someone else, not you. Someone who like you received the same treatment: your mind blown away from the slow, possessive massages of Aaron’s hands over your breasts. Someone who also like you received those same kisses and bites: on your throat, over your chest, while you ground over his dick. It was you who was ravaged by him, but your voice sounded foreign and far away.
He picked up the motions, hands guiding you up and down sharply over him, just as he thrusted up and into you. And with your eyes closed, and legs still shaking, overstimulated and spent, you threw a hand over your face, and the other around your throat. He guided your body to his restlessly. Grunts of “There you go my pretty little toy, fucked senseless and stupid, so beautiful” and “I’m right here” and sweet appraisals of “That’s my good girl. I’m proud of you."
What sent you over the edge though was a simple statement: “I wanted to rip off that sundress when I first saw you - make you cry and come for me right then and there”
After all that was over, and he washed and took care of you with tender touches - you settle on picking out other outfits that have Sundress Potential.
Aaron laughs it off at first, but then his eyes pan to your figure trying out all the clothes you show him, and he’s more focused than you are.
“Cute” he settles on for the black dress. “You look sweet"
“Hmph” you grunt and slip it off in an instant.
You feel his eyes on you when you head back into the wardrobe. You're only in your underwear since some of these dresses come with built-in bras. Nothing to do with how he can’t seem to look away or how much you enjoy his attention.
“What about this one?” It’s another short dress, neutral-colored as well, but not as fun as the floral dresses.
Aaron looks at you appreciatively, grinning. “You wear that to work, don’t you?”
You feign offense. “How--? How did you even know?”
He shrugs, “Professional secret”
You undress again, and laugh at his words, even though none of the five outfits you tried ignited your intended reaction out of him. Then, like lightning, you remember that list of yours you’d made up after the sundress comment.
“This one is a surprise” you yell out, sliding into the suit pants, out of his view. “And I know I’m going to win”
“It’s a race?” he asks, “I had no idea. I feel like I can’t lose either way”
Your heart hammers at his gentle words, and you have to take a minute to let yourself calm down. You shake your wild hair with your hands and then waltz out – in the very first suit he saw you in.
Aaron’s smile freezes on his face, his gaze becoming more intense, more unfiltered. It makes you self-confident, powerful, and when you push away the ends of the suit jacket behind you to shove your hands in the pockets of your pants – you feel utterly valued and sexy. And like you’re not wearing anything anymore.
“What do you think?” you ask with a knowing smile. “Did I win?”
He straightens up on the bed then stands up, making you halt in your makeshift catwalk around the bedroom. He's got shorts and a navy t-shirt on, and there’s few strands of hair over his forehead, out of his usually strict hairstyle. Everything about him is broad and mouth-watering.
“You’ve won me over” Aaron says, hand cupping your face, “Every time”
His brown eyes are sincere, and you stumble over your words. “Even-even, with the previous outfits?”
“With anything on” he mutters tenderly, slowly, ”or nothing”
Then he kisses your breath away, hoists you off the floor and guides your legs around his waist.
You shut the door of your bathroom and wash out your mouth from the leftover toothpaste. Your face still looks sunburned when you catch your reflection in the mirror. Maybe it’s just something you do now whenever you think about Aaron. You plop on your bed, and stare at your phone. It’s almost midnight and no calls yet. He must still be working, still carrying the world in his shoulders like it’s his only burden. Your heart feels for him and his responsibilities and not for the first time you think back at how his wife passed away.
Staring up at the ceiling, your only wish is that he gets rest tonight – and you type that out in a quick text, in the most ridiculous way you can think of.
You [00:02am]: Goodnight. Hope you sleep better than you slept at my place. Is it selfish to say I want you to dream of me?
When five more minutes past, you double-text, like a freak. And sext, too.
You [00:07am]: I hope you dream of my hands, specifically.
You [00: 10am]: One on your thigh and the other on your...
And you’re typing out the rest when your phone starts shaking in your hands with an incoming call. You get cold all over.
“Matt?” you answer sitting up at once, “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
“Listen” he rushes out, voice in a hush, “I was instructed Not to do this but I can’t keep secrets. Everyone knows this”
“What in God’s name are you talking about?”, you hiss. “Are you drunk? Of course I know you can’t keep secrets. You told The Sheriff about New York, you dumbass”
“Listen--” he shushes you, “I’m giving you a quick recap and I can’t tell anymore or he’ll kill me--”
Your voice rises up a few octaves at his alarming sentence. “WHAT?”
“ Spencer is here” Matt confesses, and you blink, remembering slowly Aaron’s text about them heading to Boston. Of course, he went to see Matt. That’s kind of adorable.
“Wait. Why would he kill you? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know how to tell you this” his voice is frantic, “but he told me your boyfriend is in danger. They’re figuring it out and trying to help, obviously but...”
You stand up so quickly you feel vertigo.
“Aaron?”
“Yes!” he hisses, “Look I’m not supposed to even tell you this but I know you have feelings for the guy-”
“Matt!” you yell out, stopping his rambling. “What happened to Aaron? Is he in the hospital?”
He exhales, loudly and slowly over the speaker; then, just as you think he’s going to faint or worse – run out of phone data, he speaks.
“Aaron Hotchner has been kidnapped”
----
Tagging @laurensprentiss (since u made me post this 🤠) @unicornprancing , @genevievedarcygrangerreading and @the-modernmary (lemme know if u want me to remove tags! 🧡)
Summary // Your deadbeat boyfriend ditches you at a party, and Bucky insists you deserve better. If he has to prove it to you, he will.
Word Count // 3,754
Warnings // SMUT. Almost plotless, filthy smut. Cheating, oral sex (m!receiving), hint of jealousy, possessive sex, unprotected (consensual) sex, rough sex, overstimulation, spanking, little bit of cum play, daddy kink, size kink, name calling, the insinuation that Bucky is in the mafia, swearing... you get the idea I think. Don't read it if you're uncomfortable with these things.
⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅
The incessant chatter of the party filled your head like a symphony of extroverts, prompting you to retreat to the restroom within the first half hour.
You wanted to wash your face, but you were wearing makeup, so you settled for washing your hands thoroughly and fixing your hair.
Your boyfriend had disappeared into the tides of people as soon as you arrived —undoubtedly to get blackout drunk and make out with a random girl— so you were left awkwardly standing around, sipping your drink out of politeness but wishing desperately to find one, just one sober person to converse with.
You sighed, swinging open the bathroom door and immediately crashing into someone’s chest, sending you stumbling backwards.
Stammering out an apology, you took the hand of your victim as they helped you up, and came face to face with a very handsome, seemingly sober man. Great, some company.
"Sorry, I didn't see you." You apologized awkwardly, noticing his rough hand linger just little too long over yours.
He nodded. "No worries."
There was a moment of awkward silence. He looked away, eyes scanning the crowd of people as if looking for something. You took the time to study him, eyes darting from his sharp, rugged jawline to his steel blue eyes. He was wearing black dress pants you noticed, --just a little too formal for a place like this-- as well as a dress shirt and tie. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular arms. Well- one arm. You stared curiously at his left arm, apparently a prosthetic. It reflected the dim, multicolored lights of the party, and flexed just like a real human arm as he turned and extended a hand.
"I'm forgetting my manners," He said as you shook his hand. "I'm Bucky Barnes."
You nodded, observing his eyes hover just above the bow of your lips. "Y/n. Nice to meet you. Who do you know here?" You inquired with a tilt of your head.
The corners of his lips twitched up in a strange smile. "Ah, I'm more looking for someone, really. And you?"
Your brow furrowed slightly at his strange answer, but decided not to press any further. "Oh, um..." You turned to look through the crowd, trying to pick out your boyfriend. "I'm here with-"
Your heart dropped into your stomach as your gaze locked onto the scene of your boyfriend, jeans unzipped, in the back of the room with a girl you didn't know pressed up against the wall under him. His arms were wrapped firmly around her waist as he kissed her roughly, one hand dipping under the waistband of her skirt.
"My... boyfriend..." You whispered, your finger still lingering in the air from where you'd pointed him out.
Bucky's expression was unreadable, his eyes dark as he stared down at you. You said nothing, internally crumbling from embarrassment.
"Does he always do this?" Bucky asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
"What?"
"Run off like that- touch other girls?" He said, his tone taking on a menacing inflection.
"Um..." You looked at your feet, hands fidgeting with the hem on the stupid tight dress your boyfriend had insisted you wear, as if he was going to be looking at you for more than ten seconds. "Yeah." You sighed finally.
Bucky took a step closer, making you tense up. He brought a hand to your cheek, turning your chin up to look at him gently. His eyes were burning with a strange, dangerous fire, his stubbled jaw clenching. "You deserve so much better than him sweetheart." He said darkly, staring openly at your mouth.
You felt blood rush to your cheeks, becoming acutely aware of just how much he towered over you. "It's really ok, we aren't that serious anyway." You said, waving your hands in dismissal and questioning why you were defending your ass of a boyfriend.
Bucky tilted his head, his eyes still gleaming dangerously. "No man should treat his girlfriend like that. What's a pretty thing like you doing with a dick like him?"
You two were very, very close now. Close enough for you to smell the mint of his breath and feel it hitting your face. "I don't- I don't know..." You trailed off, feeling things you knew you shouldn't be feeling. You were hypnotized, lost to the maze in the gray of his eyes, and as much as you wanted to fight it- you were enjoying it.
Bucky paused, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he stared a hole in you.
"You deserve better, doll. You deserve to know how it feels for a man to give everything for you. To you."
You looked down in shame, but he tilted your chin back up with a metal finger.
"Can I ask you something?" He said, his face dangerously close to your own.
You didn't know why, but you didn't feel threatened. You knew that might be a mistake- that in most cases it was, but something about the way he looked at you made your head buzz, and you wanted more.
"Yes?" You said, almost in a whisper.
"Do you want to know how it feels?" He asked, his breath heavy and eyes dark. "For a man to worship you?"
Your eyes widened, your heart beating like a drum in your throat. You felt so light headed that you wondered if you'd had too much to drink- then you remembered you'd only had a few sips. Whatever this feeling was, you felt it sober.
"What do you mean?" You breathed, eyes fixed on the way his Adams apple moved when he swallowed.
"I can give you everything he never will. If you'll have me."
The room was spinning. The only thing standing still was you, and him. You breathing was fast and fluttering, your stomach filled with butterflies like a schoolgirl seeing her crush. You cursed yourself; everything you felt was wrong. Your boyfriend was fine, this was cheating. He treated you fine, he just... had needs. You couldn't expect him to be satisfied with just you, with eating your pussy.
Then you stole a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, his hands wandering another girls body, gripping her ass, pushing himself onto her drunkenly. You decided then and there that you'd had enough.
You looked up at Bucky, who was patiently awaiting an answer. "Yes. Ok." You breathed, bottom lip trembling slightly.
His red lips formed a gentle smile as he extended his hand to you. You took it, glancing over your shoulder at your soon-to-be ex boyfriend before Bucky whisked you away.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The drive to Bucky's apartment was quiet, but not unpleasant. Quiet 30's jazz played on the radio as he pulled into the narrow gravel driveway. You marveled at how he could afford a place like this in New York; everyone you knew rented.
"No offense, but how on earth did you manage to buy this place?" You asked as the car stopped.
Bucky chuckled. "Um, we have a family business."
You nodded, though that didn't fully explain it. Bucky got out of the car, walking around to your side to help you out. You made the mental observation that your boyfriend never opened the door for you. You followed him inside, holding his hand as if he wasn't a man you'd just met. You wondered to yourself if this was normal for hookups- or whatever you'd call this.
Just minutes later he was tossing you onto his bed like you weighed nothing, your heart hammering in its cage as you watched him loosen his tie with a prosthetic finger, stalking towards you in a way that made your mouth dry. He climbed into bed, crawling towards you as you swallowed a lump in your throat.
You leaned in to kiss him, not knowing what else to do. His soft lips met yours, a hand cupping you cheek as he gently kissed you back. It was evident he was trying not to overwhelm you.
"Mm." He hummed, his tongue grazing your bottom lip. "Your lips taste wonderful bella, but I have a goal to taste all of you tonight."
Your thighs clenched at his velvet words, and he definitely noticed, shifting down as his hands squeezed the soft flesh of your legs. He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh and you bit back a moan. He slowly pulled your dress up and over your head, his kisses getting closer and closer to your growing arousal.
"Does your boyfriend" he almost spat the word out like something foul-tasting, "taste her?" He asked, nodding at your already dripping, clothed cunt.
You shook your head, heat radiating from your whole body. "No." You murmured in response. You were already absently undoing the buttons to his shirt, revealing his deliciously muscular torso.
Bucky looked disgusted at your response. "Oh, I'm going to ruin you with my tongue, baby." He rumbled, positioning you under him as he pulled your knees apart with firm hands, shifting down so that his head was between your thighs. "I'm going to give you what I know you deserve."
You were quivering, but you couldn't control it. You had never been treated like this- talked to like this. By anyone. It had you dripping and oozing before you'd even been touched.
Bucky hooked a finger into the waistband of your panties, pausing to look up at you for permission before he went any further. You nodded vigorously, one hand wandering down to his tousled dark hair.
He tugged your underwear down, taking in your already shining pussy and licking his lips. "Jesus babydoll, all this already?" He purred, leaning down to lick the inside of your thigh, cleaning up some of your slick with his tongue.
You moaned loudly, your grip tightening on his hair. You were embarrassed- you knew you shouldn't be this horny already. You couldn't help it though, it felt so good, so natural.
His tongue lazily trailed up to your folds, his hot sticky breath making you gasp. Your thighs were held firmly apart in his massive hands as he began to suck on your aching clit, moaning at just the taste of you. You moaned again and again, hips rolling forward against his head with every lick and swirl of his tongue.
He stopped briefly, licking your arousal off of his lips as he looked up at you, eyes dark with longing. "Who's all this for, sweetness? This for that boyfriend of yours?" He asked, slapping the side of your thigh.
You whimpered at his touch, still humping the air where his warm tongue used to be. "N-no, it's all for you."
Bucky grinned, licking his lips as you swore you watched the devil creep into him, his smile wolfish as he bent back down to eat you out.
"That's what I fucking thought. Moaning and dripping for me already- honey we're just getting started." He growled as his tongue slipped into your seeping pussy, lapping at curling as you let out a gasp of pleasure.
He rubbed your clit with one hand as he fucked you with his silver tongue. You could feel your abdomen twisting and churning as you moaned and panted, palming his hair as you got closer and closer to your climax. You thought you had died and gone to heaven; you had never felt this ethereal, sticky bliss in your life.
"You taste just as sweet as I thought you would, baby." Bucky moaned into your folds as he sucked and lapped. "Got me drunk off of your pussy."
Your moans grew lighter as you suddenly felt yourself releasing, your core cramping and spasming as your cunt contracted and you gushed all over his tongue. Bolts of electricity shot through your body, making you dizzy as your vision grew cloudy and you heard yourself moaning Bucky's name over and over.
"Shh, that's my sweet girl, came so fucking good for me doll." You heard Bucky soothing as you came down from your high, his hands fondling your exposed breasts as he kissed you.
"I- I..." You panted, swallowing hard as you tried to catch your breath.
"What is it bella?" He murmured, trailing kisses down your neck.
"I want you, please..." You whimpered, your thighs still clenching.
He locked eyes with you, his own glinting with a devilish light. "What do you want me to do, sweet thing?"
Your desperation was making his cock twitch in his pants, but this wasn't about him. This was about showing you what it was like to be pleasured out of your mind, to have someone worship your body. Still, he knew what he was craving, and he didn't know how much longer he could hold off.
You reached down and palmed at his clothed dick, feeling his cock harden even more from your touch. He groaned, his grip on you growing tighter.
"I want you, please Bucky, I want your cock." You pleaded, feeling him and growing wetter all over again.
Your words made his cock twitch, and he suddenly grabbed your hands, pinning them over your head so that you were helplessly trapped underneath him. He leaned in, his lips less than an inch from yours.
"Fucking beg for it." He snarled, his voice oozing with lust.
You felt your clit quivering again as you leaned in to kiss him, but he pulled away as he waited for your response. It was clear you'd have to work this time.
"Please Bucky, I'm so fucking wet for you, I need you to fill me up. Haven't had anyone fill me before baby, I just want you, please..." You begged, hands wandering his bare chest and down to the buttons of his pants, picking at them desperately.
"Jesus doll, you really are a cock-hungry little whore aren't you?" He rumbled, his cock throbbing and leaking in his pants now. He wanted to let you take it out, suck on it, claim it as yours... but he was too far into the game now, and the power he craved had rushed straight to his head.
"I am, I am baby. Please Bucky..." You whined as he pushed your hands away from his fly.
"Oh you'll get it baby, you're going to take all of me up your tight little cunt in just a minute. But you've been bad, and I need to punish you first." He growled, his hands grabbing you roughly by the waist and flipping you over, your bare ass exposed to him.
You yelped and whimpered suddenly as you felt his massive hand smack the flesh of your ass, the sting turning you on in a way you didn't know was possible.
"Oh, fuck baby!" You yelped again as his hand met your ass. He hit you again, and again, all the while pressing his clothed, throbbing cock into your ass and groaning with longing.
"You've been a bad little slut," He grunted as he spanked you again, tears forming in your eyes. "Letting little boys with tiny dicks fuck that sweet pussy of yours, letting them use you."
You yelled in pain and fisted the sheets as his hand smacked your ass harder than before, realizing that the cold feeling was from his metal arm. He was really trying to punish you.
"You're mine now, understand?! Every single fucking part of you!" He snarled.
You nodded, crying. "I-I am." You whined.
The devil was in him now; his head buzzing and reeling with animalistic urges. He wanted to fucking own you, to marry you and please you and spoil you the way the knew was best for you. This was no one night stand: it had morphed into something else, something deep and primal and personal.
"Then fucking say it, you little slut. Tell me who owns you." He growled into your ear, groaning as his member pressed against your ass.
"You do Bucky! I'm yours!" You moaned, arching your back as you felt him press himself into you.
"Good girl. Now you're gonna take me just like I tell you to, right?" He asked, his tone oozing sweetness again but with the same air of possessiveness. You heard the clink of his belt and the sound of his pants unzipping, and your thighs clenched with anticipation.
"Y-yes, yes daddy." You whined, the name slipping off of your tongue before you realized what you were saying.
There was a pause, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you wondered if you had gone too far. Then you felt a hand on your ass and hot breath on your neck as Bucky leaned down to growl in your ear.
"Do you call him that?"
"N-no, I'm sorry I-" You stammered before he cut you off.
"Good, I'm your daddy from now on. Say it again babydoll, before you take my cock like the sweet thing you are." He rumbled, taking his rigid, veiny cock out and pumping it as precum drooled from the pulsing tip.
You trembled underneath him, your ass perked up and ready for him. "I'm yours, I'm yours daddy, fuck me Bucky please!"
You screamed as Bucky thrust himself into you at once, his massive length sliding into your pussy from behind, his balls falling heavy against your ass. He groaned loudly, eyes rolling back in his head as he went balls deep in you.
"Fuck! Jesus fucking Christ!" He grunted, his hips snapping against your ass as he thrust into you, humping your ass wildly. "God baby, you're so fucking deep and wet... ohhh..." He moaned, head falling forward as he panted.
He couldn't keep upright for long as you rutted back into him, moaning profusely as you felt his tip hit the perfect spot inside you. He bent over, arms sliding down to hold your hands in his as he pressed himself completely into you from behind.
"Buckyy... Ohh, h-how are you so big? Fuck." You moaned, fucked completely crosseyed. You relished the sloppy wet sound of his thick cock sliding in and out of you, and the sound of his balls smacking your ass. He was touching places you'd never felt touched, the curve of his huge cock rubbing and stimulating all the right spots inside you.
"That's fucking right babygirl, I want you to break on this cock. Oh, you're so fucking desperate, it makes me so fucking hard, God..."
Bucky was moaning as loud as you now, completely drunk with power and overstimulated already. He was a flirt sure, but he never brought girls home. Never once had someone taken his cock this well, brought him this close this fast. When this was over, he was going to spoil the fuck out of you, worship your every breath. You were his entire world in that moment.
"B-Bucky, I'm..." You moaned loudly, his tip leaking precum all over your sensitive spot. "I'm so sensitive, I don't know if I can cum again, please..."
Bucky grunted like an animal, his arms wrapped completely around you now as he rutted and humped you desperately. "Ohh... I don't think so sweetheart, I think you've got one more in you. Cum one more time for daddy, baby, please. You're being so so good for me. My obedient little cockslut."
Your vision was going dim, your head reeling with overstimulation as you squirmed under him. You had never felt this full in your life. You wanted to stay like this forever, with his fat cock buried deep inside you.
"Oh baby, I'm s-such a slut... I can't... Ah! Ahh!" You panted suddenly as he reached under you to rub your clit, adding a whole new layer of overstimulation that sent you spiraling over the edge. Your pussy clenched harder than you'd ever felt it, cumming all over his cock as you went rigid under him, toes curling as your orgasm ripped through you.
"Jesus fuck. Oh you're such a good little slut for me babygirl, love the way you cum on my fat cock. I'm gonna cum soon too from pounding your ass like this. Ohh..." Bucky groaned, his balls thrusting into you shallowly for some relief, already heavy with cum. He had never been overstimulated like this before- if he didn't cum soon, he was going to start fucking every single part of you he could until he got relief from the aching knot in his cock.
Suddenly you slammed backward into his dick, bottoming him out as he yelled with pleasure, backing arching as he felt himself start to release.
"Here if fucking comes, you little whore. This what you wanted? Daddy's cum in your tight little cunt? Oh fuck baby, fuck, fuck!" He groaned loudly, his breathing shallow and ragged as his thrusts stuttered. He exploded inside you, painting your walls with ropes of hot cum as he moaned and moaned.
His weight collapsed on top of you as he rode out his orgasm, drunkenly twisting your hair in his thick fingers as he pressed sloppy kisses to your back and neck.
"That was so good bella, so so good. Never felt that good. Are you ok?" He breathed, pulling out of you and collapsing at your side.
You nodded, a warm fuzzy feeling spreading through you. "It was amazing. Thank you, Bucky." You smiled as his swollen lips kissed your forehead.
"Of course." He cupped your cheek, brushing a his thumb over your skin as he looked into your eyes. "You deserve the world, doll. And you should tell your boyfriend that."
You frowned, laughing a little in disbelief. "Bucky, after tonight, the only thing I'm telling him is goodbye. I want you."
He smiled in surprise, brushing a hand through your hair. "Are you sure?"
You nodded, kissing him softly. "I'm absolutely sure."
He just kissed you and smiled, pulling you closer so that you could lay on his chest. He tugged the blankets over the two of you, and you melted at the warmth and care he was showing you. Any uncertainty you felt at the beginning of the night had dissolved; now all that left was warmth and tenderness and love for the man you'd fallen for in one night.
It was quiet for a while, then Bucky spoke: "Are you spending the night, or should I take you home?" He asked softly, playing with your hair.
You looked up at him, grinning playfully. "Where would you rather have round two?"
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woof that was some heavy smut, hope ya'll enjoyed lol. don't forget to like, reblog, comment, and follow! It helps me reach a bigger audience and generally makes my day ^^
The American conservative “advocates for parental rights in schools” known as Moms for Liberty have been busy working on making sure your children are protected from things like critical race theory (CRT), and any talk about gender identities (and...
Summary: Who says you can’t have fun at family gatherings?
Characters, Leon x Fem! Champion Reader, (All characters aged up, 18+)
Format: One shot
Rating: R, 18+, Explicit, MINORS DNI!
Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Female genitalia, female pronouns, almost getting caught, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (Don’t be silly, wrap your willy), semi-public, Fingering (F receiving), oral sex (F and M receiving), pet name darling, talk of weddings and pregnancy,
I've been so hard on myself lately, telling myself that I can't write a book, that it's too much, but then I see this post and I'm reminded that I've literally already written 3 novel length works (fanfic obviously)
snowghoul
annaxmalina
discoholicmusic
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ellievsbear
