GAME NIGHT, RUINED
18+ MDNI
pairing: aaron hotchner x reader (was supposed to be nanny!reader but lit rally no mentions of her being a nanny LOL) summary: one question you refuse to answer gives you the best sex of your life. warnings | an: p in v sex, choking, one bite, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise kink?? hotch profiling reader and its so sexy i want to kith him on the mouth, there is aftercare i just didn’t write it, oopsies, established relationship word count: 2.9k
✧ masterlist
In all fairness, you hadn't actually read the rules of the game before suggesting it tonight. But maybe Penelope had – and maybe that's exactly why she'd wrapped it in floral paper with a gingham ribbon, like it was some sweet little gift and not a trap in disguise.
Because now here you were, cheeks warm, pulse ticking too fast, staring down a question that made your soul want to leave your body.
Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad.
You liked being manhandled. Liked a little choking – nothing too wild, just enough to feel it. Worst things have happened. Honestly, it wasn't even that big a deal.
Until you looked up... and saw Aaron’s eyes on you.
You swallowed, looking back down at the card again just as a breathless little laugh slipped out.
Name a turn-on your partner doesn’t know about but should.
“Pretty sure we’ve already had this one,” you said, maybe a little too brightly, as you tucked the card neatly under the deck like it was nothing. “Next!”
You barely brushed the edge of a new card before Aaron’s hand closed over the stack, pulling it right out of reach.
“Oh, are we done playing?” you asked innocently, sitting up a little straighter as your hands slid to your thighs. “Good idea.” You were on your feet now. “Pretty sure there’s a pile of laundry upstairs with my name on it –”
“Sit.”
Your hands hovered for a second before landing on your hips, a half-formed protest catching in your throat, but you obeyed, lowering yourself back down onto the couch, trying to act unbothered. Trying to ignore the way your heart had picked up speed.
“We haven’t been playing this game long enough to get the same card twice,” he said calmly, a small smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
“Really? Huh. Could’ve sworn we already had that one.”
He arched a brow. “What was it?”
“Aaron come on,” you deflected, waving a hand like it didn’t matter. “It was something silly.”
He didn’t say anything, just flipped the deck over in his hand, eyes scanning the top card.
“Name a turn-on your partner doesn’t know about but should,” he read aloud. “Hm. Definitely don’t recall hearing your answer to this.”
“You don’t?” you said weakly.
“Just because you keep repeating everything I say doesn’t mean you’re going to get out of answering.”
You opened your mouth, then closed it again.
“You begged to play this game,” he continued calmly. “And now you’re skipping cards?” He gave you a dry look. “That hardly seems fair.”
You let out a quiet huff and leaned back into the couch, suddenly very interested in the ceiling. Your heart was beating faster than it should’ve been. Not because you didn’t trust him – you did. Completely. You knew he’d never shame you or make you feel small for wanting something.
But he’d also seen the worst of humanity. He’d spent his career staring into the darkest corners of people’s minds. You weren’t sure how he’d feel knowing his girlfriend got turned on by things like rough hands. The feeling of being pinned down and utterly helpless, even when she wasn’t.
It sounded a lot messier out loud than it did in your head.
“I just…” You hesitated. “It’s not a big deal. It’s probably not even your thing.”
“Well, if you’re unhappy in that department, I’d absolutely like to know what it is.”
“Oh my God – no, no. Not at all. I’m not – unhappy.” Your voice pitched as high as your hands flew up in protest, and now you were spiralling. “I’m very happy. I’m, like, obscenely happy. I think your ability to give me more orgasms in one night than I’ve had in my entire life before meeting you should be studied. Or patented. Or possibly banned in several states –”
He blinked once. Then bit back a smile.
You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“I do, unfortunately,” you muttered into your palms.
“Then tell me,” he said, voice dipping just a little. “Or am I going to have to profile it out of you?”
You peeked out from between your fingers. “You wouldn’t.”
He gave a mild shrug. “You’re not exactly subtle.”
Your heart thudded.
“You get flustered when you lose control of the conversation. Especially with me. You fidget more. You avoid eye contact like you’re doing right now.”
You shifted almost immediately.
“You like routine and structure. You’re organised to a fault, but the second I step into your space and do something unexpected, you melt.” He tilted his head. “You act like it annoys you, but I’ve watched you for long enough to know it doesn’t. When I back you against the counter. When I pull your hair back mid-sentence just to kiss your neck. When I don’t ask and take instead. You don’t stop me, you lean into it.”
Your mouth went dry.
“You like being told what to do,” he said simply. Like it was a fact. Like it was always obvious. “In little ways. Safe ways. And when you’re overwhelmed, your instinct isn’t to push back, it’s to submit.”
He watched as your throat worked around a hard swallow.
“You like it when I’m in control.”
Your legs pressed together tight. Too late to pretend it hadn’t happened.
He smiled. “You throw around sarcasm, roll yours eyes, push back, pretend to fuss when I get bossy. But the second I tell you what to do – really tell you – you listen.”
You stared at him, cheeks flushed, lips parted.
“And the truth is, you don’t want to say it out loud because you think it’ll sound messed up. But it doesn’t.” He paused for a second. “I understand you and I’m not judging you. I want to give you what you need.”
Another moment of silence passed before he added, “But if you keep pressing your thighs together like that, I’m going to start thinking we’re done playing this game.”
You let a breath out before speaking. “I…I think we’re done playing,” you managed, voice hoarse.
“Yeah? You sure?”
You nodded before your brain could catch up. “Yes.”
“Then get upstairs.”
You rose on shaky legs and turned towards the stairs, amazed you didn’t trip over yourself on the way up. You could hear him following behind unhurried, while your vision nearly swam from what he’d managed to do to you with just words.
Inside the bedroom, you stopped at the foot of the bed, unsure whether to turn around or stay still. But you didn’t have to ask.
“Turn around.”
You obeyed immediately.
He stepped in close, the heat of him pressing into you just as his hand gripped a firm handful of your hair giving it a tug.
“I can feel you shaking,” he murmured, his mouth brushing against your neck. “You’ve been so worked up since downstairs.” His lips trailed along your jaw slowly, down the curve of your neck, before you felt him bite down gently, his tongue smoothing over the sting.
“Clothes off, sweetheart.” He took a step back, giving you space.
You reached for the hem of your shirt and peeled it up over your head, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes tracked every inch of newly exposed skin, like he was cataloguing every place he intended to touch.
You pushed your pants down next, shimmied them over your hips, then stepped out, standing there in just your bra and panties, chest rising and falling.
“All of it.”
Your fingers trembled as you reached behind and undid your bra, letting it slide off your shoulders. Then finally, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear and slid them down your legs, stepping out of them and standing bare in front of him.
He nodded toward the bed.
You turned and sat on the edge first, heart racing, then eased yourself down, your back meeting the cool sheets as you settled into place beneath his gaze.
It didn’t take long before he was hovering over you, one hand spreading your thighs as he settled between them, the other coming up to rest lightly – so lightly – around your throat.
You whimpered.
“There it is,” he whispered, kissing just beneath your ear. “That little sound you make when you’re starting to let go.”
Then his fingers found your clit, and you arched off the bed with a gasp, eyes fluttering shut as the pressure landed exactly where you needed it
“I can’t possibly imagine why you’d think this isn’t ‘my thing.’” His fingers kept working you. “Feel what you’ve done to me.”
Your hand moved down between you, palming him through his jeans – and Christ, was he hard. Straining against the fabric, so much so that it almost felt painful.
He groaned at the contact, his hips instinctively pressing into your touch.
“See?” he murmured, slipping a finger inside you without warning, drawing a moan from deep in your chest. “This is exactly my thing. And you—” he kissed the corner of your mouth, “you like this is my thing.”
You gasped, your back arching again, but his other hand was already moving, finding your neck again, pressing down just enough to hold you in place.
He leaned in close, brushing his nose along your cheek, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear as he added a second finger. “You don’t even realize how pretty you are when you’re desperate, do you?” he whispered. “The way you shake. The way you clench around me when I take my time.”
“Aaron…”
He smiled against your skin. “I could keep you like this all night.”
“Please –” was all you managed, the word falling out in a half-broken whimper.
His hand at your throat tightened just enough to make your breath hitch, the same time he curled his fingers inside you. You clenched around him so hard you thought your body might unravel right then and there.
“Fuck – I – I –”
“What is it? Tell me exactly what you need.”
You bucked against him, unable to stop it, hands flying to his forearms – not to push him away, but to hold on. He didn’t move, didn’t ease up either of his hands.
“Or… do you want me to decide for you, hm?”
You couldn’t answer, not in words. Your mind was a haze of heat and ache, your breath catching somewhere between a sob and a moan. Your nails dug into his forearms, desperate for some sort of release.
“Too overwhelmed to answer?”
And then he stilled.
Fingers deep inside you, his body caging yours, hand still resting at your throat but no movement. No friction. No relief. You whined, your hips shifting in an attempt to chase more.
“I’ll decide, then,” he said softly, like he was offering kindness. “You want release? Earn it.”
He withdrew his fingers slowly, achingly slow, and the loss had you nearly sobbing. But before you could even begin to beg, he brought his slick fingers up between you and pressed them to your lips.
“Taste it,” he murmured. “Taste how worked up you are. Taste what you do to me.”
Your lips parted without thought, wrapping around his fingers. You moaned as your tongue slid over them, tasting yourself on his skin. He pressed a little deeper, a little further down your throat, and you hollowed your cheeks, sucking greedily.
“Good girl,” he whispered, voice rough now. “So fucking good for me.”
He began making his way down your body, peppering kisses over your chest, you stomach, your hips. You could feel him everywhere, his breath fanning against your skin, his hands sliding down your thighs, spreading you open again.
He lowered himself between your thighs, and when his mouth finally met you again, it was everything.
His tongue lapped at you, circling your clit before dragging lower to taste all of you. He groaned into you, the sound deep, pushing you that much closer to the edge.
You couldn’t stop yourself from moving – hips bucking, thighs twitching, grinding against his face, desperate for more. But he only gripped your hips harder, strong arms pinning you down like it was nothing. Like your squirming didn’t even faze him. Like it didn’t make a damn bit of difference.
You whimpered, barely coherent and all you could think about was how badly you wanted those bruises. You wanted to see the outline of his fingers tomorrow. You wanted to remember exactly how they got there.
The pressure built low in your stomach, your thighs beginning to tremble, clenching around his face.
“S’okay baby,” he mumbled against you, voice muffled by your skin. “I’ve got you.”
And that was all it took.
Your thighs clamped around his head, your hips jolting up off the bed, and you cried out, high and breathless, one hand flying to your mouth, the other tangled in the sheets. You writhed beneath him, overstimulated and soaked, gasping through the aftershocks. Your whole body was twitching, lips parted, chest heaving.
He finally pulled back, mouth and chin glistening. “You should see yourself. You don’t even know how beautiful you look when you come.”
You were still catching your breath when you heard the sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt hitting the floor. You reached up to brush a strand of hair off your damp forehead, but your hand dropped the second you felt him between your thighs again, tip dragging slowly along your soaked slit.
Your entire body went still, mouth falling open and he hadn’t even pushed inside you yet.
“You okay?” he asked, pausing just long enough to check in.
“Yes,” you breathed, eyes wide. “More than okay. So okay.”
He let out a quiet laugh. “Now you want to talk?”
“I’m just –” you started, breath catching every time the head of his cock slid through your folds. “I’m just saying, I didn’t know it could feel like this, and I – God, Aaron –”
And then he thrusted into you.
One deep stroke that filled you completely, stealing the rest of the sentence right out of your mouth. Your eyes flew open, a strangled gasp caught in your throat as your head tipped back against the pillow, hands flying to his shoulders to hold on.
“Yeah,” he gritted out, his voice hot against your ear. “I thought that might shut you up.”
You could only whimper in response, nails digging into his skin as he stayed there, buried to the hilt, giving you no room to think.
“You feel that?” he murmured, rocking into you once, slow and deep. “You take me so fucking well.”
You nodded, mouth open, breathless. “I wasn’t done talking,” you managed to whisper.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to drag the tip out to your entrance and paused. “Go ahead,” he encouraged. “Try.”
“Fuck y–”
He slammed back in, cutting you off mid-word with a thrust somehow deeper than the last.
“Fuck you?” he echoed smugly. “Yeah. I think I will.”
And he did – hips rocking into yours, each thrust pushing you further into the mattress. Then his hand came up, wrapping around your throat again and you clenched around him, a moan escaping your lips. He let out a low tsk, like he’d caught you misbehaving.
He leaned in closer, his chest pressing against yours, his thrusts slowing. They were deeper now, rougher, grinding into you with so much intensity you weren’t even sure where your body ended and his began.
“This,” he murmured, squeezing just a little tighter, “this is what you were so scared to ask for?”
You opened your mouth to answer, to give him something, anything, but he slammed into you before the words could form, another deep, brutal thrust that knocked the breath out of you.
“I—Aaron, I—” you tried again, voice thin.
Another thrust. Harder.
You gasped, your back arching off the bed. “You’re not even letting me –”
He did it again, cut you off with a stroke that had your vision going white at the edges.
“Fuck—you’re doing this on purpose,” you whimpered, dazed and desperate.
“I sure am.” His hand tightened just a little more at your throat. “You want to know what my turn-on is?” he muttered, not waiting for an answer. “Seeing you fucked senseless.”
Another thrust hit that perfect spot, making your entire body jerk beneath him. You tried to speak, to respond, but he snapped his hips again and you mewled out whatever nonsense your uncooperative tongue could muster.
“You want to come?”
You nodded frantically, words useless now, tears brimming from the sheer overload.
“Good. Then do it.”
He reached down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, setting a pace in perfect sync with his thrusts. Your hips began to stutter as you screwed your eyes shut, the pressure building too fast to stop.
It took mere seconds before your body seized around him.
“Jesus – fuck, that’s it,” he groaned. “You’re so fucking tight when you come –”
His rhythm faltered, stammered and then he was slamming into you one last time, your name falling from his lips as he came.
He loosened his grip on your throat, both hands sliding to your ribcage, gripping you like he never wanted to let go.
Neither of you spoke. Both of you were too focused on catching your breath, sharing the same shallow air like it might not be enough.
Finally, after a minute, he leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “Think we should play card games more often.”
tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic
dbf!bodyguard!hotch using food as foreplay coming up next to an alina-blog near you!🌟
dividers by cafekitsune
