hazzyking - Tumblr blog

hazzyking · 16 hours ago

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red wine leather

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!reader w.c.: 4k a/n: inspired by what i affectionately call The Dom Chair™️ from 11x9, formally requested by @mggslover and @solardrop, and ty @minswriting for enabling me <3

c.w. 18+ MDNI, porn no plot, softdom!hotch, dom/sub dynamics, established relationship, thigh riding, p in v riding, unprotected sex, degradation, dirty talk, some brat taming

summary: Aaron notices your special interest in the new chair in his office.

When you first spot the leather wingback chair in Aaron’s office, you think nothing of it.

Tucked in the corner of his at-home office, because Aaron still hasn’t decided where he wanted to place it, the sleek wine-red leather had caught your eye when you had come home right after it was delivered. It was fancy, elegant even, as if it belonged in an old timey library or law office and required a cup of coffee to fully enjoy.

“Just in case I have any impromptu meetings at home,” Aaron had said when you asked about it. “It’s more elaborate than I usually go for but it’s about time we decorated around here, right?”

You were too busy swooning at Aaron calling your newly shared apartment a home to research into the fact that the chair cost nearly your entire paycheck. When you had finally confronted him about it, he successfully distracted you by easily picking you up with an arm around your waist and taking three steps down the hallway to christen your new bedroom.

It’s a fancy chair, we deserve a fancy chair, is what you told yourself every time you walked past the office, the red leather glinting from the golden light of Aaron’s desk lamp while he worked late into the night.

So you’re not exactly sure why your brain short circuits, causing you to stop dead in your tracks, when you step into his office to drop off a glass of water and spot him sitting in the aforementioned swanky leather chair, clearly having had moved it from where it was beginning to gather dust in the corner of the room to behind his desk.

He’s still wearing his suit, having had come home only minutes before and hurriedly kissing your cheek before muttering something about an online meeting he was running late for. Your heart had sung when he said that, even with the office door clicking shut behind him, because he could have easily sat through the meeting in his actual office, but he knew how important it was to you to be home by 7.

Aaron has always looked handsome in his suits, almost unfairly so. Nearly six days out of the week he’s learned to be prepared for you to nearly jump him as soon as he walks through the door as you mumbled something against his pulse point about how hot he looks but you need him to not be wearing it right now.

His tie is loosened, hair a little tousled from running his hands through them after his meeting, leaning back against that goddamn leather chair with that near constant furrow in his brow, and you want nothing more than to climb into his lap and kiss him senseless.

Crawling on the carpet on all fours until you’re kneeling in between his legs doesn’t sound so bad either.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” The familiar low timbre of Aaron’s voice breaks you out of your perverted thoughts, though it does nothing to quell the sudden fire burning in your chest that seemed to melt down between your legs.

You finally budge from where you had stood frozen in the doorway, leaning over his desk to place the glass of water in a clear spot between all the files and papers scattered about. You try not to think about the way Aaron had knocked all those reports and pens off in one clean sweep of his arm to bend you over the week prior. “No problem. Meeting go okay?”

“It was fine.” Based off of the crease in between his eyebrows, you knew that it was definitely the opposite of fine, but you also knew about the unspoken promise to not talk about work as soon as you both stepped through the front door. “Ready for dinner? I can help.”

Aaron crosses his legs then, your eyes immediately drawn in to the way his slacks tighten over his thick thighs, or how his button-up shirt stretches over his chest the more he leans back into the chair, the white fabric complementing the red leather

“Yeah, sure,” you croak, throat suddenly feeling dry.

You watch as he pauses, the leftover frustration from his meeting melting into something else—curious and a little bit darker.

“Or are you in the mood for something else?”

You laugh uneasily, a nervous tic of yours. “What?”

The weight of his stare as he rakes over you is heavy, taking in the way the hem of your pajama shorts brush against the soft expanse of your thighs and the way an old shirt of his clings to you. And because Aaron is Aaron, he can surely tell that your breathing has deepened and the imperceptible shifting of your weight.

You can tell he’s thinking, thoughts running over themselves as he comes to the same conclusion that you have suddenly found yourself thrown into. He straightens up and clasps his hands to rest in his lap, something smug tugging at the corner of his lips as he meets your gaze.

“Come here.”

Your breath gets caught in your chest at the low tone, usually reserved for nights where he patiently and meticulously takes you apart until you’re a babbling, shivering mess. As if you couldn’t help it, heat immediately pools in the pit of your stomach, a steadily growing ache between your thighs making itself known.

Your feet move of their own accord, your head suddenly feeling foggy as you step closer and closer into Aaron’s office, the faint comforting hint of his cologne gnawing away at the worry running through your brain on how you’re going to explain that you’re getting aroused just from him sitting in a chair.

Aaron pushes the chair back so you could stand in front of him, the dull edge of his desk digging into the back of your thighs. Despite him having to crane his neck to look at you, your knees buckle at the steadfast way he’s meeting your eyes.

It hits you then. The expensive fabric of his suit, tailored perfectly to his body, and the way the high backing of the chair made him appear taller, bigger, as if announcing and bragging about his presence. It all made Aaron seem more commanding to you, imposing and self-assured in a way that not even witnessing him lead the room during a high-strung case could demonstrate. The rich woodsy smell of the leather is stronger up close, mixing in with his cologne and making you feel faint.

The room is quiet besides the hum of the air conditioner, doing absolutely nothing to help the way your body temperature has increased at least ten degrees.

And then he’s looking down at his lap and then back up at you, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head in a silent question that makes your face heat up impossibly more, something akin to embarrassment tingling at the back of your neck.

You have no choice but to climb into his lap, your knees coming up to rest against his hips as you straddle his thighs. The squeak of the leather, obviously still not having been broken in, was almost obnoxiously loud, yet paled in comparison to your heart thrumming in your ears.

Your arms instinctively come to wrap around Aaron’s broad shoulders as his hands rest on your hips, a finger dipping underneath the hem of your shirt to rub at the small of your back and causing a shiver to run up your spine.

“I know you like watching me work at my desk but I’m assuming that can’t be the only reason why you’re like this.”

You shake your head, words stuck in your throat.

He hums, mock-sympathetic, as his hand moves underneath your shirt, smoothing his palm up your side and thumb barely tracing the underside of your breast. The callouses on his fingers and the nearly unbearable heat of his palm has you squirming in his lap, causing your shorts to ride up even further until they’re bunching around you. You watch as Aaron’s eyes narrow, just like you knew they would.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

You knew Aaron loved you, constantly showering you with affection and checking in with you at any chance he could get. He’s the most wonderful man you’ve ever known and he knew you like the back of his hand.

Which is exactly why the condescending tone that nearly drips from his low voice and the way he tightens his hold on you has your body melting into him, shame and arousal mixing together so suddenly that you want nothing more than to grind down onto his lap.

“The chair…” you bite out, your eyes drifting from his impenetrable stare to the wall behind Aaron’s head, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as you can feel the way your panties have started clinging to you, melding to you from your wetness.

A hand comes to grasp at your chin to redirect your gaze back to him, not hard, but forceful enough that the action has you shifting in place again in an attempt to douse the ache in between your thighs.

“And what about the chair?” Amusement dances in his eyes despite his own arousal clear as day.

You’ve never shied away from sex, clearly since you had to make the first move, but you’ve always had trouble articulating exactly what you wanted from him and he knew it. God, he’s so annoying.

You flounder a bit, mouth opening and closing, because you’re not even sure what you want yourself.

Aaron seems to take pity on you as he tuts and lifts you up by your hips, spreading his own legs even further and maneuvering you back until you were straddling his right thigh with one foot on the ground and the other kneeling in between his legs on the chair. He lifts his leg at the same time you move down, causing you to gasp at the sudden onslaught of pressure against your throbbing pussy.

“You want to ride me in this chair?” He whispers, his voice a low rumble that you swear you could feel in your own chest. “Or you’re feeling so needy you’re willing to ride my thigh?”

A whine bubbles out of you and then Aaron leans in to finally, finally kiss you.

Despite the firm grip he has on your hips and the hard muscle of his thigh against your core, his lips are undeniably soft, if not a little chapped. The way his mouth seamlessly moves against yours, as if reminding you that you didn’t have to be so shy around him, makes affection bloom in your chest.

And then he’s pulling away, leaning back against the chair with lips so deliciously slick that you’d almost be content with just making out for the rest of the night. His hands move from your hips to stretch out on the armrests, your skin suddenly cold despite feeling like you were about to spontaneously combust.

He raises an eyebrow again, a smirk slowly taking over his face. If you didn’t know him the way you did, you wouldn’t have noticed the way his chest was just barely heaving or the way his gaze kept drifting to your nipples poking through your shirt.

“I want to see just how needy you are,” he says casually, as if you two were sitting on the couch and catching up on how your day was. “And then maybe I’ll fuck you.”

You’re tempted to ignore him, thinking about swiftly undoing his slacks and sliding down his cock, but you shrink under his intense stare. The way the ache between your legs grows stronger at his off-handedness spurs you on.

You experimentally move your hips back and forth, using Aaron’s shoulders as leverage, as a strangled moan rises out of you. He’s not even tensing his thigh but just finally getting some kind of pressure against your aching clit as you feel yourself getting wetter, the fabric of your panties clinging to you as your shorts get bunched up underneath you with every movement, was causing a fire to spread underneath your skin.

Your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed by the pressure building in the pit of your stomach and the molten heat of Aaron’s gaze on you as you rut against him.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” And then he’s tensing his thigh, causing your breath to catch and your hips to stutter. “I want to hear you.”

And so you don’t hold back because the hardness of his thigh, the muscle he’s earned from running almost every morning, combined with the seam of your shorts, rubs deliciously against your clit and has you whimpering pathetically.

“Aaron…” you gasp, hands tightening on his shoulders. Your hips and lower back are starting to ache, but the fact that you’re grinding on your boyfriend’s leg like an animal in heat has your brain feeling heady.

Aaron, that bastard, is still sitting there and watching you, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. His fingers are twitching against the armrests and his lips are parted, nearly panting from how aroused he was just from watching you bring yourself off on him.

When you glance down and notice his cock straining against his pants, inches away from your knee, your mouth waters. The thought of kneeling in between his legs while he sits on the leather chair, the tufted back painting him to look almost like royalty while your mouth was stuffed with his cock has your eyes nearly rolling in the back of your head and your hips to grind even faster against him.

When your knee brushes against his thick bulge, Aaron lets out a throaty groan, finally sitting up so his hands can come to grab at your hips to help tug you back and forth against his thigh. You moan at the change in pace, your own thighs starting to squeeze around his. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. I can feel how wet you are.”

You let out another whimper, because he’s right, you can feel the way you’ve soaked through your shorts and undoubtedly leaving a wet spot on his dress pants. Your hips move faster at that thought, tension coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach.

He moves one of his hands from your hip to the back of your neck, grabbing you to bring your foreheads together, breaths intermingling and forcing you to meet his gaze again. That familiar comforting brown of his eyes was completely gone and instead overtaken by his pupils, the blaze in them threatening to swallow you whole. “Ready for me to fuck you? For me to bury my fat cock in your pussy so I can fill you up with my come?”

“God, yes,” you exhaled. “Please, I need it.”

“Oh, you need it now, don’t you? Need me to come inside you so you can feel it dripping out of you?”

You’re gasping, breathless now from both the arousal and exertion of rutting against him, and you’re so fucking close. “Yes, yes, fuck, Aaron—"

His hands come to push you back, lifting you off his thigh, and you’re about to knock his hands away so you can fucking come when you watch with a dazed expression as he scrambles to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his slacks. He lifts his hips up to push them down with his briefs, and then his cock pops out, a delicious angry red with precum beading at the slit.

“Come here.” He does not need to tell you twice.

You scoot closer into his lap, your knees sliding uncomfortably against the leather, and then you’re tugging the fabric of your pants aside, briefly running the head of his cock through your slick folds with a whimper, before sinking down onto Aaron’s thick cock with no warning.

He mutters a curse, head falling back against the chair and exposing the tendons in his neck as he clenches his jaw. “God, you’re still so fucking tight for me.”

You hiss at the slight stretch, because no matter how wet you were, Aaron’s cock was still so fucking thick. You felt dizzy, mind spinning with every inch of his cock pushing inside of you, but Christ, it felt so fucking good finally being filled.

He has his fingers wrapped around the fabric of your shorts by your hips, most likely so he doesn’t hurt you, but also so he could make sure you wouldn’t move until he was ready. When you’re finally seated in his lap, his cock fully inside of you, he lets out a growl that has a shiver running up your spine, unconsciously clenching around him before you could help it.

When you notice that he’s still leaning his head back, his neck deliciously exposed, you can’t help yourself when you lean forward to kiss along his jawline, detecting the barely there stubble, your hands leaving his broad shoulders to run your palms along his chest.

If possible, Aaron tenses more, his hands on your hips clenching and unclenching. “Honey, if you keep doing that, I’m not going to last,” he rasps.

You smile against his throat, heart thumping erratically that had nothing to do with the fact that you knew you were about to get fucked within an inch of your life. You tell yourself it’s just because he makes it so easy, he knows not to tempt you with this, when you feign innocence and say “Old age catching up with you? I thought you said you were going to fuck me.”

A pause, long enough that has the skin on the back of your neck prickling and you starting to second guess your words, before he’s suddenly lifting you and slamming his hips up into you, driving his cock deeper than you expected.

The action knocks the breath out of you, your hands scrambling on his chest before grasping at the lapels of his suit jacket. Even though he’s barely touched you, essentially hasn’t touched you at all, you feel your entire being unraveling, nearly melting at his touch.

“You’re such a,” he grunts, thrusting up into you again, “brat.” He grinds into you, filling you up to the hilt and grinding into you, causing you to curse and sit up straighter to press your forehead back against his. “If only I wasn’t fucking your sweet pussy, I’d be fucking that pretty mouth of yours.”

You can feel your thighs shaking, your heart nearly beating out of your chest, and you desperately wish that he would fucking move already. “Aaron…”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His hands slide down from your hips to underneath your ass, grabbing a possessive hold of you so he could lift you off his lap so he could push you back down on his cock, starting a steady rhythm that has your mouth dropping open and your head tilting back. “Doesn’t it feel better when I’m doing all the work and fucking you instead of having to rub against me like a dirty girl?”

“God, yes,” you gasp, choke out, because Aaron has started fucking into you so mercilessly that you can’t do anything except just take it.

The filthy wet sounds of him plunging into you, his hips slapping against your flesh, and the broken strangled noises you make while he grunts into your ear fill the room. Aaron’s belt, still undone and wrapped around his slacks that have pooled around his knees, clink with each thrust, while the leather of chair continues to squeak.

Despite the way you wanted to let your eyes flutter shut, overcome with finally having that ache in your core being filled and white-hot pleasure zinging up your spine, the sight before you was even more intoxicating.

Aaron, who loved to fuck you until you were a limp pile in his arms, was gazing into you in that intense way he always does, as if studying every eye roll and twitch to memory. There was a light sheen of sweat over his face, causing his hair to fall into his eyes, and the sight of his parted lips as he panted, resolute in his desire to prioritize your pleasure over his didn’t help the tight coil in your stomach that was burning you from the inside out.

Your eyes are suddenly drawn to his arms—the muscles from lifting you up on and off his cock straining against the sleeves of his dress shirt. His forearms, always thick and riddled with deliciously prominent veins, were the perfect anchor point for your hands when he was rutting into you until you couldn’t breathe. His hands, large and full of silent strength, were always gentle with you even when you were begging for more.

You grab at his forearms now as you try to meet his thrusts, shoving your hips down even harder every time he canted up, and when his rhythm falters and his cock nudges deeper into you, you think your mind goes blank and you begin babbling out a mix of curses and breathless mutters of his name.

You’re close, and he knows it—he always knows it. One of his hands releases the death grip he has on your ass, and you watch in disbelief as he doesn’t even struggle. In fact, he continues to hold you up, snaking his other hand in between your bodies to rub at your clit.

“Christ, sweetheart, you’re so wet,” he breathes. He’s right—his thick fingers gliding over your clit and your pussy with ease, your wetness undoubtedly dripping down his cock and emitting the filthiest noises you’ve ever heard. “You always take my cock so well, don’t you honey?”

You nod repeatedly, eyes screwed shut as you desperately chase your orgasm steadily creeping up on you. Aaron knows you, putting the most perfect amount of pressure as he rubs your clit in tight circles and continues pumping into you.

He lets go of you completely as he chases his own orgasm, no longer needing to hold you up as he grunts and fucks up into you. He takes a hold of the back of your neck, possessive again, as he presses your foreheads against each other and his breath fans over your face. His brows are furrowed, focused, as he deliberately holds you in place. “That’s it, you’re going to come all over me and then I’ll come inside you and fill you up, just the way you like.”

Jesus Christ, both of you were going to feel this in the morning—your thighs aching and shaking as you attempt to hold your position hovering over his lap, knees pressed uncomfortably into the leather chair while Aaron’s thighs strain to pound into you.

But you don’t care, God, you don’t fucking care.

“Aaron, fuck, oh my God—” you gasp, chest heaving, as you cry out and your orgasm crashes over you. Blood rushes through your ears, brain fizzling out, as you’re distantly aware of your breath stuttering and your walls clenching and spasming around his cock.

Aaron, that bastard, continues fucking up into you, albeit more shallowly, his thumb catching on your clit and watching with heat in his gaze as you shudder through your aftershocks.

And then, while you’re still catching your breath, he picks up a frantic pace, his grip on the back of your neck tightening and causing another shiver to run through your body. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, hips stuttering, and then he’s coming inside of you with a deep, heavy groan.

You whimper when you feel his cock twitching inside of you, pulsating with each drop of come spilling into your cunt. Your grip on his forearms loosens as you slump against him, your entire body feeling loose and pliant.

His breath tickles against your ear as he tries to catch his breath, rubbing soothing circles against your hip before gently pushing at your shoulders so you were sitting back and he could get a look at you.

When you blearily blink up at him, he’s tenderly brushing your hair away from your face and gazing into you with so much affection that your heart feels like it’s seizing.

“Can I assume you like the chair then?” he asks, voice deliciously raspy, wearing a small smile curled with exhaustion.

“Ugh, shut up,” you mumble, attempting to push at his shoulders despite your arms feeling like noodles. He takes it in stride, smile growing wider. “I don’t think I can do this again, I think your old age is contagious.”

Aaron huffs. You can tell he’s trying not to roll his eyes at you. “I’m sure we can think of something.”

Your mind flashes back to your earlier thought; crawling on your hands and knees until you were settled in between his thighs and keeping his cock warm with your mouth, maybe while he was on a video call. You hide your own giddy smile as you push your face into Aaron’s neck, making a mental note to bring it up before his next at-home meeting.

taglist (pls lmk if you would like to be added): @kiwriteswords @knitmeatardis @maeintree @pastelpinkflowerlife @storiesofsvu @actualdeemon @khxna <3

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hazzyking · 18 hours ago