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cimmanonrowl · 3 months ago

Text

Gods & Monsters

Part One | Chapter Navigation

Pairing: aaron hotchner x criminal daughter!reader

Theme: smut heaven

Contents: age gap, forbidden relationship, unprotected rough sex, creampie, begging, innocence kink, rutting, somnophilia, a little cnc and panicking, dirty talk, pure filth, sir & daddy (only used thrice) kink, dom/sub undertones, innocent!reader, vague to inaccurate crime and law enforcement details

You woke up in the middle of the night. As you always have in the past few weeks. The room was covered in darkness; with only the faint sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains. And in every gentle blow of the wind, the white fabric on the open veranda door sways in a mellow rhythm.

You pulled the covers up to your chest and rolled to your side, your heart hammering a little faster as you reached your phone on the bedside table and unlocked it.

No reply.

Your last message to Aaron, sent hours ago, still marked as unread.

You stared quietly at the screen, your eyes tracing over the last words you sent. It was just something simple: a question about his day, followed by a smiley face, light and casual. You were bored earlier so you decided to reach out to him. You even sent him a picture of the chocolate cookies you baked... but to no avail.

He’s probably just busy, you caught yourself saying in your head. The thought was firm with no edge or flicker of doubt. Aaron has his own life, a tedious job, and his own things to deal with. You knew that. Maybe he got caught up with work again, or he’s out with his team, or maybe he’s just tired; too exhausted to do anything but fall into the comfort of his bed and sleep.

Or maybe he simply doesn’t feel the need to reply to your unimportant message.

Your mouth felt dry with that thought. And the silence of the night pressed stealthily against your ears.

Milk. That was enough to draw you out of bed, your feet touching the cool wooden floor with a soft thud. The mansion was still— the kind of quiet that would usually lull you back to sleep. Usually, this meant your father and his men were out for a business matter. Sometimes, Father dear was just too hung up on alcohol and drugs that he forgot to come home at a decent time.

Quietly, you pushed open your bedroom door, careful not to let the hinges creak too loudly. The mansion in which you recently just moved into was heavily guarded just like the past ones.

You stepped into the hallway. Even though it’s only been a couple of months, every painting and corner of the dimly lit hallway was familiar to your senses. You expect to be the only one awake in your household, aside from the night guards. The kitchen would be empty as always.

But halfway there, a sound caught your ear— a murmur, low and indistinct, drifting from your father’s office.

You halted in your tracks, your ears perking at the noise. The door to your father’s office was slightly ajar, a thin sliver of light cutting through the darkness of the hallway. The murmur becomes clearer as you inched closer— three, maybe four voices, deep and serious, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses.

“We fucking need it done by tomorrow,” one voice complained, rough around all the edges. “The delays are making them antsy.”

“Do you fucking think I don’t know that? Tell those motherfuckers to wait.”

You froze.

The other voices, they’re strangers to you. But you recognize that voice immediately. Your father’s unmistakable deep and commanding one. Yet you were used to this, used to crossing paths with different vile men your father worked with.

“What about the feds?” another voice asked. “They’ve been sniffing around more than usual.”

There was a low and dangerous chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. “Let them. They won’t find anything.”

“The fuck you mean let them? Are you seriously still convinced that you don’t have a mole in this hellhole?”

Then there was a pause, the kind that felt like everyone was holding their breath. They know about the mole. Of course, they do. They’ve never had delays in their operations such as this before. Only an idiot would count it as a mere coincidence.

You leaned in, your ear almost touching the door, careful not to let it move even a fraction.

“All of your operations were interrupted by the feds.”

You heard the scrape of a chair against the floor, and then the clink of a glass being set down. “I don’t think it’s my men you should be poking your nose about. What about your men?”

“Are you fucking saying that my me–”

“What about the witness?” the first voice intercepted, quieter now, as if the words themselves are too dangerous to speak aloud.

“Taken care of,” your father replied with a sharp sigh, his tone so cold it chills your blood. “Permanently.”

There was a murmur of approval from the others, and you can vividly picture them nodding in agreement. Maybe even smiling. You pressed closer, trying to make sense of it all, but your thoughts were a tangled mess of fear and confusion.

“How much are we expecting on this one again?” another man asked, his voice gruff and heavy with tobacco smoke.

“Enough to keep everyone happy,” your father replied. “This is our last big score for this month. After that, we lie low for the meantime.”

There was another pause, and you heard the rustle of papers, the sound of something being slid across the table. “It’s all here,” your father muttered. “Everything we need. We move three nights from now.”

“Three nights?” the second voice echoed, surprised. “Why not tomorrow?”

“Yes,” there was no mistaking the steel in your father’s voice. “Because I said so.”

Every muscle in your body tensed as the meeting continued. They speak in half sentences, in code words, as if they know someone might be listening.

And then, as suddenly as it began, there was a sudden scraping of chairs, a loud cough, followed by the sound of feet moving. They were wrapping up, and you realized with a jolt that you need to move.

The stairs were just a few steps away. You could bolt downstairs and go straight to the kitchen as you intended. But instead, you slipped back into your room, closing the door silently behind you, and wished that the silence of the night would lull you back to another restless sleep.

When morning finally came, warm light filtered through the thin curtains and into your room. Bones popped beneath the covers as you stretched, your mind foggy with sleep. Yet you forced yourself to sit up, the blankets sliding off your shoulders.

For a moment, you contemplated reaching your phone and sending a message to Aaron. You couldn’t wait to tell him about everything you heard last night. But with the faint sound of footsteps in the hallway outside your room, you thought your information could wait until after breakfast.

You pad softly to your closet, slipping into a pair of fluffy pink slippers before making your way out of the room. You were still wearing your nightdress, a soft, pale blue cotton gown that fell just below your knees. It looked delicate, with a lace trim at the neckline, something you have had for ages. The fabric clung lightly to your skin with every move, the morning air cool against your bare arms.

When you passed by your father’s office, your thoughts immediately drifted back to the conversation you overheard last night. It felt distant now, almost like a dream, but there was this familiar tension in your chest that you knew all those things had happened.

“Morning, sweetheart,” your father greeted you, his voice deep and steady as you stepped into the dining area. “Come, have some breakfast.”

He gestured to the empty chair beside him. Father dear and Harwin were already seated at the table. The dining room was bright with morning light, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mixing with the scent of eggs and toast. Your father sat at the head of the table as always, while Harwin sat across from him, his posture straight, his eyes immediately flicking up to you as you entered.

“Good morning,” you replied softly, forcing a smile as you approached the table.

You were aware of how you must look— the nightdress, the slightly tousled hair, the way the morning light catches on your skin. You seem almost ethereal, innocent. But there was nothing innocent about the way Harwin’s eyes followed you as you move. It was not leering, no. Not inappropriate either, but it was there— an intense, piercing look that made you acutely aware of every step you take.

You slipped into the chair next to your father, feeling Harwin’s gaze settled on you. His expression was carefully neutral, but you could sense the way he was assessing you, as if he was trying to see right through you.

“Good morning, Miss,” he greeted, his voice polite and almost formal. He offered you a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I hope you slept well.”

You nodded, and your hand trembled lightly as you reached for the glass of orange juice in front of you. “I did. Thank you, Harwin,” your voice was quiet as you replied, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile calm of the morning.

But even as you say it, you know it was not entirely true. The remnants of last night’s tension clung to you, making the hair at the back of your neck rise, your breathing almost heavy.

Your father cut into his toast in rough movements. “Harwin will be spending more time around the house,” he said casually, his tone leaving little room for you to react. “I have some business that’ll keep me away, and I want to make sure you’re looked after.”

Business.

Your stomach tightened at his words. You glanced at Harwin, who was still watching you with keen eyes. You know this wasn’t just about keeping an eye on the house— this is about you.

And the realization sent a shiver down your spine.

Harwin nodded in agreement with your father’s words, his gaze still fixed on you. “Just a precaution,” his tone was even, as if this was all perfectly normal, perfectly reasonable. “I’m here to make sure you’re safe.”

Safe. The word echoed in your mind. You know what it really means— under surveillance, monitored, controlled. It’s not protection. This is not about your safety; your father wants to keep you on a leash, and you can already feel it tightening around you.

The corner of your lips twitched as you gave him a smile. “Thanks, Harwin. I appreciate it,” you said instead, dropping your gaze to the plate in front of you.

Your father continued eating, his attention seemingly on his breakfast, but you knew better. He’s always watching, always aware, and now, with Harwin here, you know you are under a different kind of watch.

But, at least, Harwin was polite enough to keep his distance. Though you could always feel his gaze following you, measuring every step you take, every breath. For the entire day, your father’s orders became clear— Harwin was here more than to protect you. He was here to ensure you don’t stray, that someone will watch every move you make.

“Harwin,” you called out softly before glancing over your shoulder. “Do you think we can go to the mall later?”

He seemed unfazed by the request, silently watching you lay on a lounger by the poolside with an open book perched on your lap. “No, Miss. If you need anything, I can have some of your housemaids to shop for you.”

“But I want fresh air?”

“We’re outside at the moment, Miss.”

“Yes, in our garden.”

He frowned a little. “The air is fresh as far as I can tell, Miss.”

And with that, you heaved a deep sigh.

As the sun began to set, you found yourself in your room, your phone clutched in your hand. The events of the past hours have left you feeling trapped and cornered like a mouse. The walls of the house seemed to crumble in on you– it was suffocating.

You opened your messaging app, your fingers hovering over Aaron’s name. It’s been a day since he last responded, the silence from his end gnawing at you, but you couldn’t wait any longer. You need to see him. Besides, you have the information he surely needs. He would have no choice but to respond to your text this time.

Can we meet? you typed slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. You add the details quickly— I have the information. The usual spot?

You hesitated for a moment, your thumb hovering over the send button. But then you pressed it, the message shooting off into the void, your hope clinging to it like a lifeline.

The minutes ticked by in silence. Then your phone buzzed in your hand, with Aaron’s name lighting up the screen.

On my way, was all he said. And for some reason, it was enough. It has always been. So you sighed in relief and smiled to yourself.

Right then and there, you knew what you had to do next. Escaping Harwin’s notice won’t be easy, not with him and the other guards roaming the mansion, but you were determined. You have done it before, though never with this much at stake.

Taking a deep breath, you slipped on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, something that will help you blend in. You grabbed a small bag, stuffed it with a few essentials, then waited for the right moment to finally move.

The silence of your house made every step and the creaking of hinges amplified. From the window, you see one of the guards patrolling the perimeter, his flashlight cutting through the growing dusk. You know there was another by the front gate, and probably more stationed at various points around the property. Getting past them will be tricky, but you have mapped out a plan in your mind.

Harwin was downstairs. The front gate was obviously not an option, not with him and the guards so close. Instead, you decide on your usual route— through the back, where the bushes and trees provide more cover and the lamp posts are seldomly lit.

You waited until a house helper passed by outside your room, her back turned. You moved quickly and quietly down the hallway as you slipped out, sticking close to the walls to avoid any creaking floorboards. The house, large as it is, felt stifling.

With quick strides, you reached the back staircase, your heart pounding in your ears as you descended. The kitchen was just down the hall, and beyond that, the back door that leads to the garden. But you were not alone.

From where you were standing, you heard footsteps— another house helper, moving through the kitchen. You held your breath, peering around the corner just enough to see her pass by, her attention focused on checking the locks. She didn’t see you, didn’t know you were there, but you almost choked on your saliva as you bit your tongue.

As quickly as she moved on, you seized your chance. You slipped into the kitchen, the cool tile under your feet grounding you as you cross to the back door. Your hands shook in fear and panic as you unlocked it, praying it didn’t make too much noise.

And it didn’t.

The garden is shrouded in twilight as you step outside, the cool evening air hitting your face. And for a moment, you felt a rush of freedom. You can’t remember how many times you’ve done this before. But it never, ever felt easy. You doubt it will ever be.

You slipped through the gate, closed it carefully behind you, and took off running down the back alley. You didn’t stop running until you were several blocks away; your lungs burning, your legs aching. Only then do you allow yourself to slow down, and breathe.

It was almost a two-hour commute to the motel where you usually meet up with Aaron. The neon sign flickered in the dusk with a dull glow over the empty parking lot. You made your way to the room you know so well, pulling out the spare key Aaron gave you exactly a year ago.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, the thick curtains drawn shut. It was a modest place; a little different from the lavishness of your spacious room but you’ve loved this as much. With a soft thud, you dropped your bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, your breath still coming in quick, shallow bursts. The silence here is different from the silence at home— this one feels familiar, and light.

You checked your phone quickly, hoping to see another message from Aaron, but there was nothing. A small pang of worry settled in your chest, but you pushed it aside. Aaron never broke his promise. He said he was coming, and you trust him. All you have to do is wait.

Your eyes started to droop as you lay down on the soft mattress, the adrenaline of your escape wearing off. You felt drained. Your legs aching. You curled up on your side, your phone clutched in your hand, waiting for the sound of his knock on the door.

But the minutes dragged by and your eyes fluttered shut, and before you knew it, after a long while, you fell into a deep slumber.

“Angel… fuck…” someone’s hot breath fanning over your ear roused you from the depth of your sleep. “You feel so good…”

You stirred and attempted to stretch your arms, even move your legs when all of a sudden, you felt it. The cold air licked the bare surface of your naked body. A low whine rumbled through your chest as you slowly, groggily so, blinked your eyes in confusion. Your vision was unfocused for a moment, sending you into a flight of panic as you grew aware of what was happening.

“Who-” the question was left hanging in the air as soon as Aaron’s thumb found your aching clit.

His hard cock was pressed against your desperate cunt, sliding through your wet folds at a rousing pace. A quiet gasp escaped your lips as he continued rutting his girthy cock against your swollen clit. You have no idea how he managed to undress you without waking you up. Although it didn’t surprise you, you’re still curious– about how expert and knowledgeable Aaron was with every sexual act. And right now, a thin sheet of sweat was slowly covering your body.

“Aaron– sir–” you whimpered once more, unknowingly bucking your hips to meet his desperate thrusts. “What… what are you doing?”

He let out a deep groan. “You look so sweet sleeping, angel… couldn’t… help myself…”

“Feels so good…” you mewled in return, feeling your dripping cunt clenching in pure desperation for something to fill it up.

The sensation was new and overwhelming. One of Aaron’s big and calloused hands was kneading your breast, pinching your sensitive and taut nipple every now and then. While his mouth was just as busy— his tongue more so; sucking and nibbling, and biting your nipple as his cock slid through the folds of your dripping pussy.

A growl rumbled through his chest.

“Can... can I slide in the tip…” he whispered in a gruff and breathy voice. It sounded vulnerable and demanding, and desperate at the same time. “Just the tip, angel. Hm? Just the tip, I promise...”

You nodded frantically, your hands gripping both of his strong arms propped at either side of your smaller frame. “Just the tip…”

“Fucking hell…” you heard him murmur as he lined the head of his big cock against the entrance of your fluttering cunt. “This is so wrong, angel, but fuck… I never wanted to ruin anyone so badly until you.”

“S-sir…”

His teeth sank lightly at the curve of your collarbone. ��I’m going to fucking ruin you, you hear me? I want my cum dripping out of your tight cunt.”

You shivered at the vulgarity of his words. Maybe it was forbidden. Maybe this was wrong. Maybe this will not end up well. But maybe this is the reason why you can’t seem to get enough of it, of his warmth, and his cock ramming in and out of you.

“Aa- Sir!” you screamed loudly, dragging your nails along his arms, your toes curling in pure, white-hot pleasure.

Aaron peppered your cheeks, your lips, and your forehead with light kisses, murmuring his quiet apologies as he forced his big cock inside of you. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, angel… I’m sorry…”

His promise now long forgotten as you felt the intoxicating burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt. You should’ve known better than to believe his promise.

“You look so good like this, gorgeous…” he whispered in your ear, his big hands roaming your body as if memorizing every corner of it. “Is this what you wanted, huh? Is this why you kept texting me? Can’t get enough of my big cock, little girl?”

You nodded abstractedly. “M-missed you… I missed this…”

Aaron’s lips tugged to a menacing smirk.

“Is my innocent angel turning into a dirty whore?” he taunted, halting his movement. You could feel his hard cock throbbing inside you, rubbing your walls just right. And when you didn’t answer his question, you felt a sharp slap at the side of your thigh. “Answer me, baby. Are you my whore now?”

“Yes, sir… yes… only for you…” unshed tears stung the corner of your eyes.

“Tell me how bad you want it, angel...” he sounded mocking, his voice light with arousal. “Beg for my cock— no, no, no. Don’t you fucking dare look away.”

You shook your head weakly. “D-daddy…”

A high-pitched whine escaped your lips as you felt him slowly dragging his cock out of you. Tears rolled down your cheeks in humiliation. Your legs clung to the back of his thighs in a desperate attempt, locking him in place. Aaron even had the nerve to chuckle as he saw your tears streaming down your pretty face.

“P-please… please… sir…” you said breathlessly. “I want your big cock, sir. Please… please fill me up with your cum…”

Aaron’s cock pulsated against your walls as he heard your words, your voice as sweet and gentle as he first heard it. He clenched his jaw and whispered tauntingly. “Yeah? Is that all you can say, angel?”

“I need it, please… Aaron… Sir… please… I’m a good girl…”

“Are you?” he perked one of his thick eyebrows before ramming his cock inside you once again, hitting a spot so deep you rolled your eyes.

“I- I am…” you nodded frantically, taking a fistful of the sheet in your hands. “I waited for you, sir. Only you. Your big cock… only you, Aaron…”

“Did you touch yourself while I’m away?”

You tried closing your thighs a little as you felt his thumb pressing light circles on your swollen clit. “I- I did, sir. Yes- I thought about your cock… I want your cock so bad…”

“And what did you think about, little girl?” he grunted, pounding his cock slowly and shallowly, his thumb still rubbing your sensitive nub.

Your legs shook as you felt your incoming orgasm. “How good you fuck me. Your cum inside m-me… I always dream of it, sir… before I go to bed… I always want to hear your voice.”

Aaron’s thick eyebrows tugged together as his focus narrowed down on giving you pleasure. His cock continued assaulting your warm cunt, hissing and grunting every time you clench deliciously around his cock. The sound of your loud moan and his heavy breaths intertwined together, your eyes rolling back with the intense pleasure of your upcoming orgasm.

“Please, please… sir, please… make me cum…” you whispered hoarsely, your voice full of desperation. “So close. ‘M so close.”

“Yeah, little girl? Cum for me, then…” his thrust became even more vigorous, firmer. “Show me how good girl you are, baby. Go on, angel.”

“Aaron!” his name came out a scream. “I’m coming! I’m com–”

Your vision blurred out as intensely your orgasm ripped through every fiber of your being. Your legs trembled and clamped shut, making Aaron growl in the tightness of your cunt. It took him all the self-control not to cum then and there; seeing the pleasure on your face, the tears on your cheeks, your beautiful lips hanging in a silent scream.

Fuck.

He’d go to hell for corrupting the innocent girl you once were.

“Sir…” you whispered weakly, your voice spent and quiet.

But Aaron paid you no mind. He hasn’t come yet. And he had no plan on letting you go after just one orgasm. He wants to ruin you. To take over your being. He wants you to realize that he has all the control. He owns you, from the very first day he laid eyes on you, to the very first night you spent together. When you desperately opened your legs for him, you were his. He owned you since then and he can do everything he pleases.

Effortlessly, he pulled you up and switched your positions. He was now lying on his back, his piercing eyes focused on you as you scrambled to find your position on his lap, your legs still shaking from the remnants of your orgasm.

“I haven’t cum yet, little girl.”

You nodded quickly, understanding just well what he meant by that, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. “Yes, sir…”

“Make me proud, angel. Show me how good of a whore you are.”

Aaron let out a loud hiss as you lined the head of his leaking cock on your wet entrance, fluttering in anticipation as it welcome the familiar stretch. You let out a satisfied sigh, feeling your inner thigh wet with arousal and your release, and all Aaron could do was shiver as he felt the wetness the moment you fully sank down his cock.

With your palms resting on the soft surface of his stomach, you forced your legs to bounce up and down his hairy cock. Every once and a while, you’d clench around his girth unconsciously, which only made Aaron shut his eyes and pound into you harshly.

You moaned loudly, meeting the way his hips desperately chases yours. “Ah! Ah, s-sir!”

“You feel so good… so w-warm..” he mumbled dazedly, wetting his lips with his eyes closed. “This cunt’s heaven, baby. Fuck. You’ll send me to hell— fucking hell! Yes, clench that pussy tighter, angel! Fuck, I’m coming!”

You bounced even more desperately, fueled by his moaning, and his heavy breathing. The hoarness of his voice, the way the veins in his strong arms popped out, and how his big hands gripped your hips so tightly it left red, angry marks.

He fucked into you like you’re nothing but a fucktoy. Like you’re something he can discard— like you’re something he will discard the moment he reaches his high. And you’d be lying to say you don’t find that idea hot.

You clenched your cunt tighter, holding his hands that were wrapped around your hips.

“A-Aaron! S-sir! Ah!” his cock found the spot only he can reach. “I’m coming again, sir! D-daddy! Ah! Aaron, please, more! Fuck me harder, daddy!”

Aaron didn’t say anything but a loud growl rumbled through his chest. His chest heaving in sharp, restrained breaths.

“God, angel…” he rasped quietly.

A strangled sound of what seemed like your name escaped his lips. You let him take over, let him ruin you the way he wanted, his hand firm on your hips as he fucked into you. And the moment you felt his hips stutter, warm ropes finally spilled inside you; his big cock throbbing as he emptied himself deep into your willing cunt.

You heaved a sigh of satisfaction, tossing your head back with your eyes closed, feeling perfectly sated and elated at the moment.

If this is heaven, you will never, ever come down.

Even if it means you would beg God to forgive you.

As always, replies, likes, reblogs- everything is highly appreciated! I'm only planning on writing 5 chapters for this series. And please be aware that I'm not promising any happy ending. This will end up in angst unless something changes my mind. Also, listen to Lana's Gods & Monsters and feel the vibe of this series! Have a good day and drink your water! <3

Tag list: @downbad4reid, @readergf, @urbrazysimp, @roseydoesypoesy, @pastelpinkflowerlife, @justyourusualash, @hotchsmutrecs, @msfreedom, @birdysaturne, @gghostwriter, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @fore45fore, @actualdeemon, @diksy1112, @jethro-mcgee-tony, @hotchnerbau, @iniyalovesall, @222hwilsss, @balariie, @oliviabbb, @ncis0mrs0gibbs, @jasonswhitetuftofhair, @m4pl, @yiiiikesmish, @luv-unknwn, @thatonepersononline, @ilikwgirls, @ssamorganhotchner, @antonia29, @fandomtookoverlife, @hotchnerwife, @wandererseye, @marisamarisa @l0kilaufeys0n7, @promptly-mercy

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds smut #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner fic #ssa aaron hotchner

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carriesthewind · 2 months ago

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"Reviewers told the report’s authors that AI summaries often missed emphasis, nuance and context; included incorrect information or missed relevant information; and sometimes focused on auxiliary points or introduced irrelevant information. Three of the five reviewers said they guessed that they were reviewing AI content.

The reviewers’ overall feedback was that they felt AI summaries may be counterproductive and create further work because of the need to fact-check and refer to original submissions which communicated the message better and more concisely."

Fascinating (the full report is linked in the article). I've seen this kind of summarization being touted as a potential use of LLMs that's given a lot more credibility than more generative prompts. But a major theme of the assessors was that the LLM summaries missed nuance and context that made them effectively useless as summaries. (ex: “The summary does not highlight [FIRM]’s central point…”)

The report emphasizes that better prompting can produce better results, and that new models are likely to improve the capabilities, but I must admit serious skepticism. To put it bluntly, I've seen enough law students try to summarize court rulings to say with confidence that in order to reliably summarize something, you must understand it. A clever reader who is good at pattern recognition can often put together a good-enough summary without really understanding the case, just by skimming the case and grabbing and repeating the bits that look important. And this will work...a lot of the time. Until it really, really doesn't. And those cases where the skim-and-grab method won't work aren't obvious from the outside. And I just don't see a path forward right now for the LLMs to do anything other than skim-and-grab.

Moreover, something that isn't even mentioned in the test is the absence of possibility of follow up. If a human has summarized a document for me and I don't understand something, I can go to the human and say, "hey, what's up with this?" It may be faster and easier than reading the original doc myself, or they can point me to the place in the doc that lead them to a conclusion, or I can even expand my understanding by seeing an interpretation that isn't intuitive to me. I can't do that with an LLM. And again, I can't really see a path forward no matter how advanced the programing is, because the LLM can't actually think.

#ai bs #though to be fair I don't think this is bs #just misguided #and I think there are other use-cases for LLMs #but #I'm really not sold on this one #if anything I think the report oversold the LLM #compared to the comments by the assessors

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bokutosbiceps · 10 months ago

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jell-o shots

eustass kid/monkey d luffy/roronoa zoro/trafalgar law/vinsmoke sanji x afab!reader | slight smut/fluff | ~900 words

warnings: suggestive/18+ themes, mild cursing ?

a/n: i was listening to one of my fav podcasts (the basement yard) n they were talking about how some girls use the way that guys do jell-o shots to gauge if they're good @ eating pussy. so i ran w it 😁 also def a modern au ,, thinkin bout doin more of these 🤭

18+ MDNI | under the cut for length

you can't tear your eyes away from the man across the granite kitchen island. the way his tongue shoves into the sticky jell-o, laps at the sides of the cup, and swirls around the bottom to clean up any leftover sugary alcohol has you feeling dizzy and squeezing your thighs together. as if he couldn't get any more irresistible.

maybe it was the fact that you'd already thrown back a couple of drinks. or maybe it was the fact that you'd just imagined your boyfriend’s tongue doing that to you instead. but you were feeling particularly brave, particularly needy.

he sees you watching, and you can tell that he's wondering why you're staring at him so intently. his eyes call you over, and you take a few shaky steps around the island to sidle up next to your man.

you smooth your hands over his shoulders, your nails digging into his deltoids for stability as you lean in and whisper “can you eat pussy like that?”

eustass kid bursts out laughing. it's a hearty, wry laugh that has you pushing out your bottom lip and furrowing your brow at him.

“why the hell are you laughing?” you whine, pouting at him.

kid glances at you out of the corner of his eye, picking up another jell-o shot and repeating his ritual. he enjoys the feeling of your hold on his bicep tightening, and how you subconsciously press yourself further into him.

he lets his eyes travel further down to where he can see you rubbing your thighs together, and he feels a familiar hunger starting to burn in the pit of his abdomen.

once the cup is left pristinely crystal clean, he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest. you can feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear and he huffs out another laugh.

“i wanna see you get on your knees and beg, doll.”

monkey d luffy blinks at you, a small smile stretching across his lips as he realizes what you had whispered to him.

“you mean can i eat you out? yeah! you wanna?” luffy chirps, picking up another jell-o shot and practically vacuuming out the sugary alcohol in one go. you watch, feeling like your legs are going to give out.

luffy grabs your waist with his arm to help prop you up against him. he's still grinning at you, eyes searching yours for any affirmation of what he had asked.

he pinches your side playfully and presses a kiss to your clavicle, then rests his head on top of yours, happy to be enjoying the party with you. but now there's something else he'd rather be enjoying, and he's still waiting for your answer.

so you nod, a movement so slight you’re worried that luffy wouldn't notice. but then luffy’s scooping you into his arms and running upstairs with you cradled to his chest, searching for any open bedroom or bathroom he can use to indulge in his favorite meal.

roronoa zoro straightens up slightly, pushing his nose into the air and looking at you out of the corner of his eye. his lips are set in a firm frown as he studies you for a bit, and then they’re stretching into a sly smirk.

he doesn't say anything, just backs you into the counter behind you and grips your waist with both of his hands. he leans in closer to you, pressing his cheek against yours. you can feel his thigh pressing against the seam of where your own thighs are clenched together, prying them apart.

you shudder at the way zoro’s hot breath is wafting across your neck, and you about explode when he presses a warm, wet kiss to the nape of your neck. he rests his face in the crook of your neck and you can feel his lips smile against your skin.

“you wanna find out?”

trafalgar d water law scoffs at you, wrinkling his nose and setting the empty cup down on the island.

“are you drunk?” he asks lowly, noticing how you're gripping so tightly onto his arm. you squeeze your thighs together once again when you feel his warm breath fan across your face and his hazy, grey eyes bore into yours.

“no.” you purse your lips, pressing yourself further into him. “i just…need you right now.” you give him a pointed look, feeling your cheeks heat up as you glance back down at the cup. he follows your gaze and snorts a chuckle out through his nose.

how could he resist you when you were so cute, being so desperate for him?

“come with me.” law rubs the small of your back and allows you to lean on him as he guides you through the party and upstairs. “let me take care of you.”

vinsmoke sanji is flabbergasted. the empty cup falls from his fingers and onto the counter. he's staring at you, wide eyed and blushing.

you shift uncomfortably under his stare, wondering if maybe you'd made a mistake, come on too strong perhaps. but your train of thought is quickly derailed when sanji grabs your hands and presses them to his chest.

“you mean it, princess?” sanji asks you, his eyes shining. his pupils are practically heart shaped as he beams at you, hands trembling as they held yours against his palpitating heart.

“mhm. right now.” you say softly, giving him a coy smile. you blink, and suddenly you're in sanji’s arms and he’s making a beeline for the nearest bedroom. sanji’s on a mission to serve you like the princess you are, party be damned.

taglist: @usoppsstar | @luffysprincess | @pileofmush | @anemptypuddingcup | @kingofthe-egirls

#one piece #one piece smut #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid #monkey d luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #kid x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #law x reader #sanji x reader

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miley1442111 · 6 months ago

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a great start- a.hotchner

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a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: how aaron and you end up together after going undercover

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: general cm topics, fluff, crying, reader gets shot, hostage situation, suggestive themes, reader is forced to strip, comfort, hurt.

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You sat at the end of the sofa, Aaron’s arm around you as you felt the painful reminder of the psychopath watching you two from the other side of the many cameras around the house.

“How’re you holding up?” He murmured into your ear, definitely too quiet for the camera to pick it up.

“Alright,” you whispered back, then giggled softly, as if it was a joke between the two of you. He smiled, his same adoring, beautiful, and infrequent smile and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You both knew what you were getting into when you started this, pretending to be a couple so the rest of the team can catch the unsub, he’d be so busy watching the two of you ‘newly-weds’ and get sloppy with something. 8 days in and nothing had changed. You knew he was part of the construction team of the house, that’s how the cameras were put in, but you didn’t know who he was at all, since the construction company wiped their records. “You?”

“Alright,” he smiled, though his eyes said otherwise. They looked elsewhere before you could study the emotions in him, redirecting to the tv in front of you two. You leaned closer to his exposed neck and kissed it softly. The last six victims, all couples, had been killed during acts of physical/ sexual nature. You’d profiled that this meant he was unable to perform and most likely impatient due to his clear overkill and general killing style. Your lips trailed up his neck as he tensed beside you. It had been 8 days, you assumed that newly-weds would be jumping each other’s bones at every chance they got, yet the unsub hadn’t seen you two so much as make out. You felt Aaron gulp.

Your lips met his just like they had in all the previous days, though this one was heavier, more passionate, more meaningful.

You were going to have to fuck Aaron Hotchnmer. You were going to have to fuck your really hot boss.

Oops.

You pulled yourself onto his lap, kissing him deeper as his hands rested cautiously on your waist. He kissed back with just as much passion as you were, maybe even more.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips. You pulled away softly, grinning at him. “So beautiful.”

Your heart swelled. “You’re so handsome,” you smiled and he chuckled.

“What is this, the 1800s?” He joked and you giggled into his neck.

This all felt too real, too normal. The way he kissed you before you both went off to ‘work’ (aka him working at a fake law firm and you fake teaching at a college nearby), the way his hands were always on your body, the way he held you when he slept, the soft whispers when he asked you if things were alright, the way he said ‘I love you’ everyday and made you actually believe it for a few seconds, and the gorgeous smile on his face every morning when you woke up.

It was maddening.

“I don’t know, you should probably be the one to tell me,” you mused. Yes, there was a significant age gap that you continuously made fun of, but Aaron did too, so it should’ve been ok. Aaron laughed but there was a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” you smiled and got off his lap, pretending you didn’t see or feel his hard-on. You went over to the door and looked in the peep-hole, only to be met with a middle-aged white male who looked very angry. Yeah, that was your unsub. “Honey, maybe you should call Spencer and invite him over for dinner this week?” You mentioned, using the code you two had made up for getting help when needed. Spencer meant a SWAT team and the team, Derek meant local police and the team, Emily meant just the team, Jj meant you needed the fucking cavalry, and Penelope meant something was seriously wrong.

“Good idea,” he said, grabbing his phone. What a way to crush a libido, right?

You inched open the door and he pushed past, trying to get inside. He succeeded, throwing you into a wall.

“You two haven’t had sex!” The unsub shouted. “It’s been 8 days. You two got married three months ago and you just bought this house. Why don’t you two have sex?” He demanded, running a hand through his greasy hair as he paced the room, stress and anxiety practically oozing from every pore. Aaron finished his call and stood in front of you, shielding you from harm like a husband would. He noticed the gun in the unsub’s waistband, he saw the devolving nature of his stress, and he wanted you safe.

He was in love with you, and you clearly refused to see it. The small things he did at work, like the way you two always shared hotel rooms, even when it wasn’t necessary because he knows you hate sleeping on your own in a new place but especially in hotels, since you were attacked in one on a case a few years ago. He noticed the small things about you, like when you changed your nails, they were usually colourful and long, but not too long that you couldn’t type. He saw when you changed your lipgloss, you’d gone through 9 different colours in your 4 years at the BAU, light pink, dark red, purply-red, a nude pink, burgundy, an orangey-red, a pinky-red, a glittery clear one, and right now- a red lip tint that he’d grown to love, even when it landed on his lips. He’d observed when you changed your perfume, he’d noticed how you smelt everyday, since you’d always say ‘good morning’ every morning at the BAU and your perfume would be the freshest then. You had three signature scents, a rich vanilla, a citrus and flowers, and a peach one that you wore on special occasions, like the ‘dates’ you two went on, or when you went out with friends.

He loved you, plain and simply.

“We’re not very sexual people,” you lied, trying to sell the fear you were feeling. That was a huge lie because every day you’d wanted to jump his bones, just like he’d wanted to jump yours.

“How can you ‘not be a sexual person’ when a woman as beautiful as that is in front of you?!” He shouted and you flinched. How long until the team and SWAT team would get here? “Come here,” he demanded, looking at you and pulling the gun out of his pocket. You didn’t move, only holding Aaron closer. “I said come here!” He shouted and you were forced into action. Aaron grabbed your hand, stopping you from going any further, but you shook him off, desperate to get whatever this was over-with. “Take off your clothes.”

Fuck off, is what you would’ve said but he was holding a gun.

So you pulled your t-shirt over your head as Aaron kept trained on the unsub’s face. Next to go was your bottoms, so you were left in your bra and underwear.

“Look at her,” he demanded Aaron do. “She’s beautiful.”

Aaron looked and he agreed, he thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world, your witty humour, intelligent mind, carefree nature, kind aura, he loved all of it. He loved your body too, but you weren’t just your body, and he wasn’t going to take advantage of you in a hostage situation, or the situation you two had been in for the last 8 days. It wouldn’t be fair, he was your superior.

But god you were gorgeous. His eyes skimmed up your body and he felt his blood rush and he felt 15 again.

“She is,” he agreed.

“And you don’t fuck her?”

“I don’t fuck her,” Aaron agreed. “She’s my wife, I love her, it’s making love.”

The unsub rolled his eyes, waving the gun around as you tensed. “Making love then,” he scoffed. “What did you major in, fucking romantic poetry from the 19th centary?”

You almost laughed, remembering how you and Aaron had joked during the week about his tendencies to over-complicate his words. You didn’t mind, you loved it to be honest.

“He majored in law,” you said, acting scared.

The unsub turned his attention and gun on you. “What did you say?

“H-he majored in law.”

A gunshot. A gunshot to the shoulder (thank god for his awful aim) and a scream of pain meant the SWAT team ran inside. Aaron ran to you, not looking back at the unsub as he scooped you up in his arms and brought you outside.

“Medic!” He shouted and the ambulance beside the squad cars was already prepared for an injury. He put you down on the gurney as you shifted in pain, and he wanted to take it all away. He wanted to be shot, not you. He wanted to be hurt, not you.

“Shit this is bad,” one of the paramedics said a little too loudly and Aaron saw you tense. He shot the paramedic a disapproving look and he sent back an apologetic smile.

You took his hand in yours, a pleading look in your teary eyes. “It wasn’t pretend for me,” you admitted. “I love you. I have for ages.”

Aaron’s heart stopped for a second. His dreams were coming true and dying at the same time. You, you were his dream.

And you were hurt.

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He paced the hospital waiting room, every muscle in his body tensed as he waited on news of you.

“Mr. Hotchner?” One of the nurses called. “It’s only family right now-”

“I’m her boyfriend, all of her family lives out of state,” he semi-lied. He wanted to be your boyfriend. You’d told him you loved him. He just put two and two together.

“Alright then,” he smiled, leading him into your room. There you were in the bed, still as pretty as ever, doped out of your mind on painkillers. “I’ll give you two some space.”

Aaron sat beside you as your heavy eyelids opened and closed in an attempt to stay awake, he smiled.

“Sleep, we’ll talk when you wake up,” he smiled.

“Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up,” you whispered, grabbing his hand.

“I’ll be here,” he promised.

And he would. He’d stay in that hospital with you until you were discharged, then he’d take care of you at his home, then he’d ask to be your boyfriend.

A pretty great start to a love story if you ask me.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

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#aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner fanfiction #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

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many-shades-of-violence · 1 year ago

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getting drunk with them I Corazon, Law, Doflamingo, Smoker, Ace, Sabo

✢ content: fluff, suggestive themes, alcohol consumption

✢ characters: Corazon, Law, Doflamingo, Smoker, Ace, Sabo

Corazon is a light-hearted and affectionate drunk. He becomes even more talkative and open when he's had a few drinks.

He's the type to get lost in nostalgic stories of his marine days, or talk about his dreams and aspirations with you and little Law.

He might start singing or humming, and if you join in, he'd be absolutely delighted.

As a caring drunk, he's prone to giving you lots and lots of compliments, reminding you how much you mean to him. He might pull you into his lap or snuggle up to you, searching for the warmth of your body while he rests his head on your shoulder.

Corazon is also likely to pull you into slow, clumsy dances, and you'd both end up laughing as you navigate his tipsy waltz, being careful, so he doesn't trip over his long legs.

Law's usual stoic demeanor takes a backseat when he's drunk. He becomes surprisingly expressive, much more relaxed, and most surprisingly, a lot more handsy.

He tends to lean into his playful and mischievous side, making witty comments and teasing you in a way that only a drunk Law can. If there's strong booze involved, he might even slip a hand along your thighs, giving them a firm yet loving grip.

Law might get a bit sentimental as well, sharing his deeper thoughts and feelings with you, which is a rare sight.

He'd challenge you to drinking games, displaying his competitive streak while still maintaining his cool facade.

If you get too drunk, Law would take on a protective role, ensuring you're safe, comfortable, and well-hydrated.

Doflamingo's already flamboyant and unpredictable personality becomes even more amplified when he's had a few drinks.

He's likely to be the life of the party, engaging you with his charismatic way of talking and flashy dance moves.

Doflamingo's sense of humor gets a bit eccentric and twisted, often sharing dark jokes or anecdotes with a cheeky grin on his lips.

He enjoys being the center of attention, but he'd also make sure to dote on you and show you off to everyone around.

Doffy's already "horny on main," but a drunk Flamingo might be another challenge. He'd never overstep your boundaries, but you might have to reprimand him more than once when you find slim fingers cupping your ass.

Smoker is a quiet and introspective drunk. He tends to sit back and observe the surroundings, lost in thought.

He becomes a bit more sentimental when you're around, often expressing his genuine affection for you and how much he appreciates you in his life.

Smoker might share stories from his past that he normally keeps to himself, allowing you a glimpse into his life before the Marines.

He's not one for grand gestures, but he'll subtly make sure you're comfortable and have everything you need for the night-out.

Smoker's tough exterior softens a bit when he's had a few drinks, and he might even crack a small, rare smile from time to time, especially when you're also a bit tipsy, inviting you to stay over at his place to know you're safe.

Ace is a fun-loving and energetic drunk. He's constantly moving and looking for the next adventure.

He'd likely challenge you to various games or dares, trying to see who can handle their liquor better.

Ace's laugh becomes even more contagious, and he'll find just about anything hilarious, ensuring a good time for the two of you.

He might get a bit touchy-feely, always looking for excuses to wrap his arm around you or hold your hand.

When the night winds down, Ace would be the type to suggest stargazing or a late-night walk, wanting to make the most of your time together.

Sabo is a sweet and affectionate drunk. He becomes incredibly attentive to you, making sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself.

He's likely to initiate deep conversations, discussing everything from dreams and ambitions to the meaning of life.

Sabo's protective nature might become more pronounced, and he'd keep a watchful eye on you when you've had one glass too many.

He's a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, so he might get tipsy quickly, leading to a lot of adorable behavior.

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zozotheme · 1 year ago

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wuxian-vs-wangji · 4 months ago

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Some details from the LITA special novel:

Sky and Pai

Pai sells his condo immediately after the assault in ep 13 and buys a new, larger one in a high security building.

Pai loves seeing Sky cry. Not in a mean way- tears of happiness absolutely preferred- but he is deeply touched that Sky has recovered to a point where he is now able to cry again.

Sky's father realized Sky was gay after the assault by his ex in high school, but they never talked about it. Sky was scared to bring Pai home because he didn't know how his father would react.

Sky's dad knew the moment he brought Pai home that they were dating. He asked Pai to take good care of his son and always accepted Pai as a son-in-law. He loves seeing how well Pai takes care of Sky.

Pai doesn't like Sky being around his (Pai's) family PURELY because they're obsessed with Sky, and he ends up completely kidnapped by them (Golfing with dad, shopping with mom, galleries with the siblings, etc.).

Sky resists moving in with Pai throughout his university days, just to be closer to school during high-stress times. Still, Pai's condo is their main residence.

If Sky is put in danger by his new friendship with Graf (Pakin's boyfriend, who is frequently targeted by Pakin's enemies), either Sky is taken immediately to Pai, or Pai brought immediately to him.

Sky does not believe he's attractive or cute (even though Pai tells him he is CONSTANTLY), but he is damn well aware he's amazing in bed and confident in that.

If Pai and Sky are apart for more than 2 weeks (because of Sky's work or Pai's business trips), they both start going a bit mental (leading to a very hot video chat).

Sky and Pai get married around 8 years after the events in Love in the Air.

Sky is now a professor of architecture at his old university.

Sky and Pai babysit Pai's niece/nephew, but don't want kids of their own (though they leave that as an 'unless we change our minds' kind of thing).

The vows they use in "Wedding Plan" are actually lines Pai says to Sky that Sky later paints into a portrait of Pai with his bike.

The wedding planning service they use in "Wedding Plan" is one Pai approached first to plan a surprise anime-themed birthday party for Sky.

Rain and Payu

Payu told his mom about Rain after their first night together, and he and Saifah both shared stories about him, but no one ever told Rain.

Rain wanders downstairs in his undies one night and Payu's mom is just THERE. She pretends not to know who he is and disapprove of him while force-feeding him porridge... she and Payu are the exact same flavor of tricksters who enjoy seeing Rain anxious.

Strict no-sex-outside-of-the-bedroom rule put in place by Rain because Saifah once caught Rain riding Payu on the sofa and teased him for days.

Rain is not afraid to stand his ground and put Payu in his place if he thinks his man is wrong. He may leave the fight for morning, but he won't bend if he doesn't agree.

Rain ends up working for a top architecture firm (maybe the one Payu used to work for, unclear) and takes on bigger and bigger projects.

Two years after starting his own firm, Payu asks Rain to come be his work partner (he asked before the firm opened, but Rain wanted to gain experience so he could be Payu's equal).

Payu cried when Rain agreed to come work with him because they were both so busy that they barely saw each other anymore. Now, no matter how busy they are, they will still be together.

Rain and Sky

Rain blames himself in part for Sky being assaulted again by his ex, and won't leave Sky's side at races unless Pai is there.

Rain and Sky still hang out constantly and are thick as thieves.

They befriend Pakin's boyfriend Graf (at Pakin's threat/request), and Pakin softens towards them somewhat in gratitude.

Rain is nearly stabbed in a bathroom by someone who mistakes him for Graf. He's saved by Sky and Chai (who was secretly following).

Rain and Sky frequent the races and bring their own snacks and candy, every guard and repeat guests know them and greet them on sight.

Thanks to Sky and Rain, the dangerous, illegal, underground street races have more of a carnival atmosphere. Pakin doesn't care, so long as the rules aren't broken.

Pai and Payu

Still involved with the races, no matter how busy they get with work.

As much as Sky and Rain hang out, Pai and Payu also meet up in their spare time with others who are or were involved with the races (mostly former top racer Oat).

If Pai wants to plan a surprise for Sky, he will go to Payu's house and borrow Rain to help scheme.

Payu is the official-unofficial tutor of the young ones. If Sky seems to be struggling with a concept and stressed out, Pai will call Payu for help.

Payu and Pai both leave Sky and Rain plenty of space to be individuals. All of them have their own friends and go places they want to go, then come tell their partner about their adventures.

#sky #rain #payu #prapai #prapaisky #payurain #love in the air #lita #special novel

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divinector · 1 year ago

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fairytsuk1 · 30 days ago

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get on your knees | (s)

apart of maki's kinktober: the 2024 anthology

prompt: creampie, praise/degradation, secretary!au

pairing: shota aizawa x reader

words: 6.4k

warnings: unprofessionalism, boss/secretary relationship, dom/sub themes, impact play, degradation and praise, strangers to lovers, creampie, body worship

"Yep. Yep, thank you. Call us again if you need further help. Our way is the right way. Thank you. Goodbye."

How much longer could you keep this up? Between shrill old ladies desperate for solutions to their self-caused issues and the men who wanted to turn your customer service line into a phone sex hotline, you were running out of both patience and sympathy.

You knew it'd be dull work when you applied. It was in the name: customer service representative. You didn't mind. Dull work meant working as a stocker and meticulously organizing food products. It meant waking up early and chatting with the same group of people over the same brand of weak coffee every day. It could be meaningless; it could be meaningful.

Your temples are rubbed by your fingers, aching for relief, and you wonder if your company is any good with benefits after you've quit.

Real people were missed by you. No more old women and pervy men. You wanted something substantial. Something real, something alive. You decide you need to get outside, away from the phone. Your poised, fake voice was due for a break.

Your lunch is subbed for an afternoon walk. The same route you always take, the same things you pass by like always. It's all the same. Trees bend and sway under the will of the wind, and you find yourself looking down at the ground. Did you always do that?

The coffee shop is bustling, the bookstore is closed, and the park is full of screaming, laughter, and joy. The police station looks lifeless as always, but the local lawyer's office is… open, shining and bright, and strangely standing out. The actual building is cream and desert colors, yet its sign has bright bulbs exclaiming help wanted.

In tiny font under the main signage, you read "secretary."

It would be dull work. Lawyer jargon, a hot lawyer who you hear from around town is to die for. Like smooth chocolate. Your sneakers pad on the ground before you're even aware of it, carrying you past the threshold of oak doors into the domain of law.

Inside, it's dark and stormy. It is entirely opposite to the outside, making your head spin. It's quiet, and your footsteps echo as you traverse the halls looking for the lawyer. There's no one at the secretary's desk, and you can't help the daunting hand that runs over its ridges as you pass by.

Another oak door sits menacingly ajar. You press forward. Your heart stutters in your chest, butterflies hatching as you see him sitting cleanly, sexy and firm.

There he is. He's got inky black hair pulled neatly into a low bun; your breath catches in your throat when stormy dark eyes pull up from paperwork to you. You feel so exposed, so on display, as you fidget and murmur, "Hello."

He's quick to the chase, "Are you here for the secretary job?"

The lawyer's eyes scan yours, and you find yourself nodding; too afraid to speak further. His eyes then trail over your form, and you wonder if your work-from-home outfit was too casual. How would you have even known you'd have encountered this icy gentleman during your typical stroll?

Aizawa is grateful that the prettiest candidate will come in on his break. He could forgo lunch for you; he'd be fine having that sweet pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

"Hm. Resume?"

Your empty hands are glaringly obvious. Your purse hangs heavy and resumeless on your shoulder.

"I, I don't have–I didn't bring one, I mean."

"Did you see the ad in the paper?"

"No. I was walking and saw the lit-up sign."

"... I see," he drawls, still eyeing you before motioning to the seat in front of him.

Sinking into the cushion, you try to look presentable as you cross your feet–the rip of your stocking just barely visible from where he sits at his woodsy desk. He stares at you before asking.

"What talents do you have?"

"I'm a very hard worker," you pitch softly. "I won several typing awards in school."

He says nothing to that; maybe you've said or done the wrong thing. His hand rubs at the stubble on his chin, and your throat dries up at the various rings decorating his long, pale fingers. You would give anything to feel that scruff between your thighs, nails leaving indents as he plants kiss after kiss up your leg.

"It's very, very dull work. Perhaps too dull for you."

It's an opening. A job you can practically taste on the tip of your tongue.

"I don't mind," you add. "I'll do anything."

The terse stare you both share leaves you sweating. What were the chances: no resume, lack of secretary experience, and you wore ripped stockings. He licks his lips, eyes flickering up and down before nodding to the side.

"Please make me a coffee. Not too much sugar."

You're up in a heartbeat as you grab his half-empty cup. Suddenly, it's obvious you don't know anything about the building you're in as you head to the first door: "It's not that one."

The second one is a bust, and the third opens you up to his quaint office kitchen. Coffee was easy! Sure, you spilled a few coffee grounds and milk. Maybe you struggled with the machine as it brewed its ground beans. In the end, the mug sits hot and ready on his desk. You're ready for him to say it's perfect. That he'll reward you with a black coffee-tinged kiss.

"Too much sugar," he grimaces a bit. "Be here tomorrow at eight a.m."

You were in the parking lot by seven.

He never reveals too much to you. You still don't know so many basic things, even though you know how he likes his coffee, and you've seen how he does push-ups in his office when he's stressed. You see everything and nothing. It's agonizing.

The work is dull. You like it. It's typing letters, queries, and correspondence; it's all stuff Aizawa could be doing but chooses you to do. It makes you feel special in a sick way. You're stumbling from a bump in the carpet as you set a stack of papers on his desk. There is one problem, though.

"I alphabetized all the clients, sir," you say firmly.

"Thank you," he always says your name in that smooth drawl that leaves you drooling.

You're waiting. Waiting for those two words or even a glance up at you. He only sips his steaming coffee and peruses through the paper like you're not even there.

"Is there something you need?"

There was just one problem.

"No, sir," you say. "Sorry."

He never praised you. Aizawa hums, and you're turning on your heel. That took forever to do, and all he could say was, "Thank you." Was it wrong to ask for praise from your boss? The deep boom of his voice shakes you from your thoughts as he calls out after you.

You return like a dog, face alight and waiting. A stir in his gut has Aizawa hot at the back of his neck.

"That outfit… it's sloppy. You represent me. Your hair has flyaways, you leave crumbs everywhere, and you're messy."

Your boss stands and takes measured steps toward you. You're shrinking like prey under his gaze as he jabs at your faults.

"You make typos. You spill coffee grounds when you make my coffee." he's in front of you now, looking down and so close you can feel his breath. "You wear ripped stockings."

"I-I—"

"Don't say anything. Just look, and listen to me."

He is oh so pleased when you nod obediently. What a good girl.

"You represent me. You are the first person clients see when they come seeking my legal counsel. You could put in a little more effort, right?"

You're unsure of an answer. Silence or confirmation? Your knees knock together, "yes, I could."

There's a beat of silence. It seems so loud in the room.

"Good."

You wanted to sink to your knees then and there with an open mouth. An open throat. Aizawa sighs, seemingly relieved, as two big hands clasp onto your shoulders.

"Go home. Take the long way. Look at the sky and the trees and the stray cats. Pet one," he murmurs, and his fingers flick your chin. "Go and enjoy."

Just like that, he's edging away from you like he'd never gotten so close in the first place. Your heart stirs confusedly in your chest, battered from the pointed insults but feeling like they've freed you from any preconceived notions you had regarding your boss and you.

He thought you were good.

It was as if you'd never taken a walk before. Things were bright and so fruitful that there was a natural skip in your step as you brought yourself past the trees, the fountain made of marble with an angel sitting pretty and the people out and about. That joy carried you all the way home. You couldn't get how he looked at you out of his head as you flung yourself upon the bed.

You try practicing how you'd thank him, but it all comes out stilted. Unsure. Who was Mr. Aizawa? Did he like being thanked? You knew what you liked. Your hand brushes against the edge of your underwear as you recall how he'd murmured, "Good."

It just feels right to rub your clit and imagine your boss doing it for you with his hands coated in silvery rings. It'd be a mix of hot and cold as he rubbed at your pussy, "My, you're so wet for me. You really are so naughty."

Your hand twisted tight circles as you ground against your palm, face hot and panting into the sheets as you mewled for Aizawa. The syllables were foreign on your tongue, but you find yourself cumming with a cry of Shota!

After that, it was impossible to stay professional for very long.

Since those harsh criticisms, you'd started putting your all into the little things. New stockings on sale that highlight the smooth expanse of your leg while tucked into dainty kitten heels. You wiped up your mouth and counters after lunch and coffee. You were representing him.

Aizawa had noticed your preening. It was eerily similar to his cats. You would linger in front of him, waiting for a treat. He sighs, sinking into his chair, lids burning with the idea of you on your knees or bent over in front of him. He has to be careful when that familiar twinge of arousal wakes up more than just his mind. His hand comes to palm over the half-chub, but then your voice is filtering in over the phone.

"Sir? Miss Midnight is here," you murmur, and he grips himself over his slacks with a soft groan.

"Tell her I'm not here."

"I think she knows you're here," you say, eyes flickering between the phone and the woman herself, who flips through a magazine.

"Do not let her come back here. It's an order."

There's a click, and you're gone. You always listen so obediently. It was his favorite thing. Midnight's voice rings out from behind the grand wooden doors, your voice mixing into a beautiful tone of harshness and softness. He can hear how your chair scratches against the floor as you stand, guarding his office protectively.

"I know he's in there!"

"He is not," and you're puffing your chest out with a confidence that you're unsure of its origin. "You must come back another time."

Aizawa pants into the open air at your sweet little voice, trying to be commanding. He has to grip his base so he doesn't spill his load all over his black slacks. It grows quiet, and he knows the knock of your hands from memory.

"Come in."

You're hesitant, hands coming in front of you to fidget before you're forcing your hands by your sides. The pressure of Aizawa's presence has a hold over you that you can't shake. "She left. She said she'd be back tomorrow."

Lecherous eyes take in the loosening of his tie and how he relaxes instantly at the relief. He looks warm, if a bit debauched.

"I see," and he's staring at the ceiling before lazily trailing his eyes back down to your body. "Come here."

Soft feet pad even closer. You're not sure if you're even breathing.

"Thank you for listening. You are good at what you do.

"Thank you, sir."

He lets the stillness linger in the air, watching how you step even closer. You wanted a treat.

"Another thing. Where did you buy that skirt?"

"... At the department store."

His mouth flattens, and he hums, reaching into his wallet. " It's nice. Buy yourself something off the rack, not from the sale section."

Your face burns bright as he slides the cash over. This feels strangely good. You knew it was wrong, but you just couldn't help yourself. It was a substantial amount—too much for a boss to give to his secretary.

"Am I… allowed to take that?"

Aizawa smirks coolly, "I just gave you permission to."

The implication of his words leaves your legs crossing, much to your boss's amusement. He tells you to take the day off, and he's so soft this time. No harsh criticisms. All he wants to do is take care of you; the stack of money is comforting as a couple hundred sits heavy in your bag.

You buy a cute two-piece suit. It accentuates your curves nicely, and you can't help but wonder if Aizawa would feel the same. Adding a few accessories you don't think he'd mind, a gold choker glints at you, and you look around before shoving it to the bottom of your shopping bag.

He doesn't even comment on it. Of course, he doesn't. Your fingers click the keys with a bit more anger than normal. Who gives you money to buy an outfit and then doesn't even compliment you? Your boss, that's who. Fingers rip the written communication from the typewriter with a huff.

You're about to go to him, but he's coming to you first. Your breath stutters in your throat at how his eyes pierce you with every step. Aizawa stops and flicks the paper onto your desk with narrowed eyes, "can you tell me what this word says?"

"I-Indelible."

"And this one?"

He points to another word circled in red and your shy eyes are batting up at him, "rash…"

"So I didn't hire an illiterate typer, that's good. But then that means there must be a reasonable explanation for these glaring typos, hm?"

Aizawa's fist bangs on the table as you neglect to respond, "I–no, sir…"

He leans close till you can feel his breath on your lips. You're shaking and unsure if you want to burst into tears or kiss him on the mouth. And then he sees it, his eyes trailing down your body to see the familiar scratch of lines and ripped fabric on your calf. You'd hoped he hadn't noticed, but you can't help the twitch of your lips.

"Come to my office," Aizawa says shakily, voice intense and full of mirth.

You walk behind him to enter into his domain. Aizawa stares at you, breath labored as he swallows thickly. Neither of you are speaking, but it's clear how his presence dominates yours. It's effortless. It's easy for him.

"Put the paper on the table and your hands on either side."

Your hair sways as you put your hands on his grand office desk. The red marks stare back at you mockingly, your breath stuttering as you feel his presence behind you. He looms, and you can just barely feel how his hips align right behind yours. A deep, primal need wants to arch your back even more than it already is.

"Bend over more."

Was he serious? Your ass brushes against his crotch as you bend farther, with your pencil skirt rising higher. Your upper thigh is exposed to cool air, Aizawa's rough hands brushing against the soft skin. His thumb just barely brushes your panties, and you're biting back a whimper.

"Read it aloud."

Aizawa bites his lip as you do exactly what he says.

"Dear Mr. Toshinori," and you're cut off by a firm spank on your ass.

Your breath stops in your throat as you turn your head in disbelief. Aizawa says nothing, and does nothing, maintaining eye contact as he swats your plump butt again. It hurts and your eyes water. Something inside you tells you this is wrong, but it's overwhelmed by the wave of it feeling so right.

"Go on."

A sniffle escapes you, humiliation and pleasure mixing into a twisted thread of satisfaction, "the effort you've put into this case has been indelible–"

Another firm smack that leaves a gasping moan escaping you. You can hear his labored breaths mingle with your needy ones as he lays smack after smack against your aching bottom. Your whimpers come out more easily with each hit. Your eyes blur with tears that drip onto the crisp paper, blurring the letters you'd so carelessly put together. The red of Aizawa's pen seeps into the salty stain, and a cry escapes you.

"We don't want to be rash," another loud smack. "With all my love, Aizawa Shota…"

The two of you are panting, and Aizawa sighs as he presses the bulge in his slacks against the cleft of your sore bottom. He's so hard. You can't help how your hips grind against his, how the two of you play this forbidden song and dance of boundaries a second longer. He stills you with a fond voice.

"Very good," and you could cum with how he says your name. "I expect you to be better the next time around."

A strong hand smooths over the sore skin and fabric of your skirt. He takes care to readjust your clothes. His hands feel incredible with every soothing stroke. Your tears subside within no time, and you wish the moment would last forever.

He doesn't see how your eyes close in relief as a smile graces your lips, "I will, sir."

"Thank you."

You make no mistakes for the rest of the week. You might be the perfect secretary. Aizawa was beginning to reveal himself to you more and more; you were absolutely delighted. If he wanted to overwhelm you with himself, you weren't opposed to submitting to him entirely. You'd let him eat you if he wanted.

It's how your quaint, dull secretary job turns into a game of cat and mouse. Everything is predetermined by him. You crawl to his desk with the written communication tucked between your lips, sidling up next to him as he takes it with a "thank you."

Reveling in it is what keeps you going. It leaves you crawling, kneeling, and purring for "good girl," "thank you," "very nice," and "well done."

This time, you stand beside him like a shining knight while he reads over the newspaper. It's still early morning, only about an hour to your shift before he's straightening up and talking to you without looking at you.

"What do you eat for dinner, sweetheart?"

You can't help but smile every time you hear that tender nickname.

"U-Usually meat and potatoes and a vegetable."

"That's the daily menu?"

"Today I wanted to make mashed potatoes, peas, and meatloaf."

"Hmm," and then his steely eyes are turning and landing right on you.

It's as if a spotlight has shone down directly on you. You fidget on the spot immediately. Aizawa's lips quirked up as if he wanted to laugh, and you mirrored him back; you know he found your flightiness endearing. Cute, even. You'd heard him say so under his breath a few days back.

"I want you to have five peas. A scoop of mashed potatoes and no meatloaf."

You stay silent. He's not done. He smiles warmly, eyes scanning you appreciatively.

"And as much ice cream as you want."

"How did you know I like ice cream?"

He doesn't reply. He'd seen you out and about while he was waiting for his dry cleaning. You'd been happily chatting with friends, a giant cone of flavors on your right, while you gestured with the left. Aizawa hadn't wanted to interrupt you in your natural state. It was a shame, though, considering he couldn't shake your smile and your laugh from his head that entire day.

"I just know."

You make precisely five peas and a heaving bowl of mashed potatoes. The meal is done quickly, but you call him just before eating.

"A scoop of mash, five peas, and as much ice cream as I want."

Aizawa sits comfortably in his living room, wine glass in hand, "good girl."

It's a meal you savor. It's a wine he relishes. It's a simple delicacy, as if you share the meal together, knowing one is thinking about the other. Aizawa and you fall into this routine of codependency. You go where he goes. You eat from his hand and never bite. He offers you more and more. He lets you engorge yourself on him while he feasts himself upon you.

But, things grow different. He stops asking you to get on your knees, and you see him shutting the door behind you more and more. His face looked pained every time, as if he wasn't banishing you away to your secretarial desk. Why is he doing this? Why was he denying his sweetheart?

You listen to the audio of his lulling voice dictating you on what to type. You're not sure if you or the brat inside you insist on making typos, but you know it's the entirety of you that will be held responsible.

You smirked anyway as you delivered the paper to him with a flourish, "This one is finished."

He takes it silently and puts it in the envelope to be sent. You falter a bit and quizzically ask.

"Aren't you going to read it?"

"I'm really busy," he says your name so flatly you almost want to stomp your foot in protest.

Whatever. Quick feet turn, and you're heading off without a second thought. If he didn't want to read it, that was just fine! It wasn't as if you cared. You return to work, and your shift passes by slowly. Then, you hear the static and clearness of Aizawa's firm voice.

"Come to my office."

You're skipping with joy to the door, arms swinging at your sides before you compose yourself in front of the door. You open it, and he's immediately staring dead at you. His eyes are like a flame. Aizawa's voice shakes with restraint as he tells you to come close and bend over.

It's lewd how you drape yourself over his desk. Your hands are poised as you lay them flat against the desk, butt perked and wiggling ever so slightly. If you were a cat, your tail would swish, and maybe Aizawa would go easier on you.

But you're not a cat; Aizawa never goes easy on anyone. Not his clients, not the courtroom, and certainly not you. His rough nails scrape against the soft flesh of your bottom as he tugs your skirt up, and then your panties drop to the floor. You're bare and shaking in front of him, face dark and pressed into the wood you lay on. He gives no tells, your ears straining to hear something, anything.

Aizawa slowly unzips his slacks, and you're panting with neediness on your breath. You can feel how a strong hand easily shifts your hips to the side as if you weigh nothing; he's still silent as a hand grips the base of his cock, and he groans.

You wish so badly to turn and catch him in the act. He spits lewdly and tugs your skirt up higher till your ass is on full display. He grunts, and it's so slick listening to his palm hit his fat balls and work the tip over and over again. A whimper escapes you when he digs his palms into the fat of your ass and grips it for purchase. It feels so heady, and you're forced to listen as Aizawa fucks into his palm.

The wet noises echo, his hand speeding up as he groans your name. A confident thrum leaves you thrusting back, and the choked moan he lets out is downright delicious, "fuckk."

His breath becomes strangled as he works himself. Then, he's letting out a deep yelp, and you're coated in hot white strands of his cum. It soaks into your panties, and your hole clenches around nothing. He's still breathing shakily, his hand tracing the marks he left on you before pulling away entirely. You can smell his cologne when you turn knock-kneed before him.

"That'll be all," he mumbles with ragged pants.

You stare at yourself, awed, in the mirror. The streaks on your panties are visible as you slip a hand past your waistband and hold a hand to your mouth. You cum just like that, in Aizawa's company bathroom, with his cum on your ass.

He doesn't make an appearance for the rest of the shift. You want to knock and ask, "Are you okay?" But, you worry it'd just make things worse.

Meanwhile, Aizawa stares at his desk contemplatively. A letter sits mockingly as he stares at it. The white stain on his slacks mocks him. He keeps trying to rub it out, but it won't budge. This can't go on.

Dear Sweetheart,

This is disgusting. I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this.

He crumples it and tosses it off somewhere, sinking into his office chair with an arm draped over his eyes. This was pathetic. It was unseemly. He had to intervene before he got out of control. Aizawa tries to ignore the deep pain within his chest that winces at every thought of separating himself from you.

That was what he told you the next day, "we can't be doing this every day. It's… wrong."

"Why not?"

You're tearful and shaking. Aizawa's heart shatters so suddenly he has to look off to the side, eyes tracing the whistling trees outside the window.

"Why. Not?"

"Because we can't," he hisses in regret at even letting this conversation come to fruition regardless.

Your hands smack against your thighs as you stand and come closer. You never used to go into his bubble, and now you had no problem merging the two of you together, "I love you."

It was the genuine, honest truth. You loved how he told you how many peas to eat when he'd stroke your hair when he first called you sweetheart. You were sure you had started loving him then, some time or another, between the blending of professional boundaries.

"Don't be immature–"

"I'm not leaving.

He gets close, eyes narrowed as you stay rooted on his Persian rug.

"You're fired."

"No, I'm not," your tears spill over your cheeks in fat rivulets. "Don't do this."

Aizawa scoffs, grabbing his coat and huffing, "I'm going for a walk. Don't be here when I get back."

You stay rooted. You don't move an inch, only wiping your face and continuing to stare out his office window. This was the most heartbreak you'd ever felt. Aizawa was the first real man you had met, and he was tearing himself away from you. This job had never been dull from the second you saw him.

He's been gone for so long. Your legs ache, and you wonder if he went home, if he decided to leave you there through the night on trembling feet and shaky breaths. No. He wasn't like that. You'd wait.

The walk did nothing to soothe him. All he could feel was a pull towards you, like an anchor desperate to return home. Each step was heavy, and he turned around halfway to practically run back to the office. Were you still there?

You're still standing with your arms at your sides. You're not crying anymore, your face hard and focused. You're pretty upon his Persian rug, and Aizawa feels downright giddy. The giddy feeling is overshadowed by the thrum of darkness at the reality of the situation. He felt awful, wanting, and overwhelmed with emotions. He had so many emotions he almost couldn't stand it. Almost.

Aizawa sits outside the office door, head in hand. A thread born from sickness and loneliness was watered and tended by you, and he was so afraid.

The two of you stay rooted.

Only when the sun shines before noon the next day does Aizawa open the door. You're turning your head instantly with watery eyes and a grumbling stomach. You knew it, he hadn't left. He'd have never left you alone at this rate. You were his, and he was yours.

His footsteps are heavy as he draws closer until he's right before you. You look at him so softly. Your eyes are like dams threatening to give away if he didn't accept this watering, this tending. You'd worked so hard.

You collapse into his arms the minute he holds you, and he goes down with you, both of you sinking onto the floor in a loving heap. He doesn't even let your head touch the ground, only looking at you with fondness.

Aizawa kisses you, and it's like a cool drink of water. You're satiated yet hungry for more. Hungry for him.

"I'm going to take you home," he whispers tenderly, accompanied by a hand smoothing down the side of your waist before hooking under your knees.

He bridal carries you past the threshold of his office and building and towards his car. It's an intimate carry; you hold onto him with a soft smile.

His steps are measured as he takes you up the stairs of his home. Your eyes greedily latch onto every detail you pass by: the pictures daintily hung on the wall, the way a cat peeks in from the kitchen, the way the whole home is ornate and decorated. It's lived in, and you bring yourself closer to burying into Aizawa's neck.

The minute your back hits the bed, you're engaged in a passionate lip-lock that won't quit. It's not the rough dominance of Aizawa trying to eat you whole. It was the experience of two lovers finally able to blend as one.

He's gentle as he lays you back against plush silken sheets, immediately crawling and molding his body to yours with a hefty groan. His body weight is addicting. Your thumbs press against the divots in his back to try and bring him impossibly closer.

"Been wanting to kiss you since I saw you, pretty girl."

"Me too," your tongue laves over his bottom lip. "I only wanted you."

"I know. I see you."

He breathes into your neck before diving in to lick and suck at the supple skin. You can't help the squirming and the hot whimpers that escape you, the rough patches on your neck growing more abundant with every kiss of his lips and bite of his teeth.

"I want you," you confide, hands loosening his hair from the tight bun into loose strands that surround you. "I need you, Aizawa."

"Call me Shota." a burning hand trails down your hip to between your legs.

You're already mewling, trying to shut your legs despite Shota insisting with a "be good" to keep them open. His hand catches your thigh, and you shrink at his look that pins you to the covers.

"Be still," he says, and a finger drags up your puffy lips over your underwear.

The fabric catches on your clit, and you gasp; your hips tilting back and forth for moremoremore–

Shota tugs your panties to the side and spreads you open, his eyes greedy as they rake over every inch of your dripping cunny. You know you're making a mess all over his hand as you writhe and leak.

"Shota, ohfuckk. Don't stare," you barely manage to get out when his rough thumb circles your needy clit.

"I'll stare as much as I feel like, sweetheart. You're dripping for me, soaking my hand. 'S so cute."

You can't even find it in yourself to plead for him to stop. He sinks two fingers in you like it's nothing, an amused chuckle reverberating through his chest at the sight, "You play with your pussy a lot? She swallowed my fingers up like it was nothing. Is it gonna be the same when I stuff you full?"

"I'll take it, I-I can take your cock."

"Good girl. Saying exactly what I want to hear," and he's kissing you.

His hand leaves you, much to your chagrin, and you're left spread open wide in front of him as he rapidly undresses. His bulge is big, and you're almost a bit intimidated when his boxers reveal the shape of his thick cock leaking pre-cum. You wet your lips, and your knees go to touch before he pulls them open wider and settles on his haunches.

"Getting shy now?"

"No…"

"Then open your legs."

It's not a question but a command. You do as he says.

His underwear is pushed down to free his dick, the thick length bobbing and brushing against his happy trail. It's so lewd, and he looks so manly. His muscles are rippling, and he's so hard between your legs. Your hole clenches around nothing, and Shota runs the angry red tip through your folds.

"Ah! Don't tease me," you murmur, feet flexing with need.

His fat tip just barely presses against your hole, just barely pushing past your clenching pussy with a lazy grin, "I won't. Just lay back, honey."

Shota's voice is syrupy and smooth. His hands push your thighs farther than you thought they'd go as he sinks inch by inch into you.

"Oh, oh, Shota–you're so big."

"Poor pussy's squeezing me so tight," he grunts lowly. "You feel so good, sweetheart."

He plants a soft kiss against your ankle before shifting and bullying three inches of himself inside you. You cry out, eyes rolling back as he shallowly thrusts and works you open, breath heavy on his lips as he fucks his cock into you.

Your pussy's so sloppy, leaking and creaming around him before he's even balls deep inside you. Shota mounts you, and you're scrunched under him with a whimpering wail, "There we go. Nice and full, huh?"

"Y-Yeah! Ohgod, I-I can't–"

"Oh, fuuuuck."

He moves slowly and thrusts so deep you feel him in your stomach. It's sinful, the way his hips start to rock into yours, tip rubbing against your womb as you moan and moan.

"God, 'm so deep inside you. Fucking claiming this pussy, right? Just giving my girl what she needs, a nice, good pounding."

Shota's balls smack against your ass as he speeds up, sticky clit mashing against the coarse hair at his base as he rams himself into you again and again. You feel delirious as you get fucked further into the mattress. The two of you are one, creaming around his base as your nails scratch lines across his back.

"Rub your clit, baby. Make yourself feel good."

“‘M gonna cum, Shotaaa!”

"Hold it," he hisses, hips still pistoning in and out of you as he thrusts particularly hard. "Want you to rub yourself, sweetheart. You can do that for me, yeah?"

You're near tears as your hand shakily flits over your sore pussy, howling from pleasure as you circle it once, twice–" I-I can't, please, lemme cum!"

"Hmm," and you can feel how he throbs inside you.

Your walls suck him in impossibly deeper, and you can see the sweat dripping down his forehead as he heaves a breath. You squeeze again, and he glares at you darkly, eyes narrowed and stormy as he settles his hips on top of yours, heavy balls churning with the need to cum.

"Go ahead, since you wanna cum so bad."

"Sh-Shota!"

You're fucking squirting. Your juices make more of a mess, and it does it for him as he slams into you for a few more thrusts before hunkering down and sliding right against your womb. A few tears escape you as rope after rope of cum fills you to the brim, your eyes rolling back as he milks himself inside your sweet cunt.

"God, fuck," he shudders, hips twitching as he finishes breeding you.

Shota's eyes are closed as he holds you both in that position. If you weren't on birth control, you'd be in trouble as globs of cum spill out when he adjusts his grip on you. He pulls out slowly, watching the white fill and drip down your ass lewdly. He looks magical the way he bites his lip and spreads your open, hole clenching and letting out more of his release.

"You're so pretty."

Both of you are spent and exhausted. You can't find it in yourself to reply. Aizawa's muscles bulge when he pulls you closer into his body, a shiver coursing through you at a lazy finger trailing over your spine. Both of you are quiet for a while, the intense passion taking a load on you both.

You nearly fall asleep while he strokes you.

"Where are you originally from?"

It makes you pause before you answer your hometown, eyes pulling up to meet his soft ones.

"... Where did you go to school?"

"UA High School. Then, I went overseas for my law degree."

"Oh. I always wondered where you went."

"I always wondered where you were from," he whispers, noses your face, and plants a sweet kiss on your lips.

The two of you swap stories and questions just like that for hours. It means everything to you, and Shota wishes you could've done this sooner. Wishes he could've known this woman before.

"Do I still get to keep my job?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

You walk, arms spread out wide and attached to the spreader bar. You adorn yourself with a clean white blouse and a navy blue skirt—prim and proper. It's easy now, as you squat to grab a paper with your left hand and turn to your right to staple it.

It's easy, grabbing things with your teeth as you prance around, spread open as if on a cross for him. Your boss wanted you that way; he wanted you to be spread open and bare for him, fresh enough to eat.

You carry the tray with coffee in your right hand and the stack of papers in your left hand. As you approach the ajar office door, you can hear his voice, "Come in, and get on your knees."

The oak office door is kicked closed behind you without another word.

#bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #aizawa shota smut #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x you #aizawa shota x you #shota aizawa smut #bnha imagines #mha imagines #mha x reader #boku no hero academia smut #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia smut #my hero academia imagines

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kivino · 18 days ago

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PROBLEM I || HIGURUMA HIROMI X COWORKER!READER

sum. You have quite a crush on your coworker, but don’t know how to approach it. The opportunity to do something presents itself when you both get invited for drinks after not-so-voluntary overtime.

tags. Suggestive themes, so MDNI; Canon divergent; Higuruma and reader work at a law firm; Japanese work culture is a warning in itself; Reader is a foreigner in Japan but it’s a little glazed over; fluff; cigarettes; alcohol consumption, obviously; Higuruma is a lightweight and a dork, I stand by that.

w.c. 3.4-ish

a.n. I’ve been having this Higuruma itch that needed a scratch (save me overworked lawyer disappointed in the justice system, save me), so I wrote this little fic! Plus forced myself to omit all the Japanese honorifics used cause apparently you kids find it cringe (/lh). Enjoy, and please, reblog/leave a comment, I really want to know what you all think and if I should continue writing for JJK. I’m planning to make a part two for this, so stay tuned!

jjk masterlist || cod masterlist || ao3 link to this fic || ko-fi

You feel completely lost. Not even lost, abandoned by your consciousness. And not in the tall pillars of paperwork on your desk, that threatened to fall over with a single blow of air from the AC blasting over your desk, as you should be. No-no-no, you’re lost in Hiromi’s deep, almost pitch-black eyes, so mesmerizing that you felt like you were falling right into their endless, warm void. Well, you were not supposed to be calling him Hiromi, it was Higuruma for you. “For now.” – you encouraged yourself. You’ll get there with him. Eventually.

It only occasionally occurs to you that you were behaving like a dreamy-eyed middle-schooler…again. All that development of your frontal lobe goes right smack-dab into the trash when you notice those tired eyes stop on you for a split second as Higuruma gives you a polite nod with his lips twitching upwards, almost attempting a smile. Even in spite of the sheer exhaustion he is exuding all around.

You don’t even have to look at him to notice how tired the man is – when you come into work, fifteen minutes earlier, just like everyone else in your firm, you see him sitting in his chair already, reading endless police reports, typing away on his computer, arranging for meetings with witnesses or clients. Even when you are heading for the elevator, calling out “Good job today” to the last people left in the office, hurrying for your last train home – Hiromi is glued to his visibly uncomfortable chair, his head almost bumping into keyboard as he wrestled with the sleep clouding his eyes. And even if you don’t see him around his desk – he is probably out somewhere, hounding for evidence on the case.

Or in the smoking room. God, after you realize where Hiromi spends at least thirty minutes a day, you consider picking up smoking just to have an excuse to get to know him better. He’s definitely a bad influence on you.

But how can he not be? You physically can’t stop yourself from staring at him when you see him through the glass door of the smoking room, leaned on the wall, droopy half-lidded eyes looking up at the ceiling, dark long lashes pretty as a picture. You can’t help but imagine these puffy eyes tearing up or rolling into the back of his head along with his mouth falling open in a delicious silent plea; or looking down on you with mad fixation that would make liquid heat pool between your thighs.

And you won’t even get started on his nose. The graceful arch of it, the perfect angle to…You stop before you stray too far, instead letting your mind wander to those beautiful eyes once more, intense and overwhelming, picturing desire clouding them until there is nothing but scorching fire burning up your skin, accompanied by Hiromi’s soft sighs, raspy whines or gentle praise, with those incredible voice cracks he would develop when he was oh-so-exhausted after a long day… you wonder how he would sound, as you grasp and store away in your memory each time your name is called by Higuruma.

Your eyes find your coworker once again at his desk, his deft hands are typing something out on the computer. You can see the way Hiromi’s fingers move, and your thoughts immediately settle on the image of them gently running over your thigh, hooking at the belt loops just to pull you into his warm, frail, charmingly pathetic form. You сan practically melt into a puddle, when your mind gets to his warm, large palms settling on your hips, setting electric currents running right to you brain, when the object of your fantasies suddenly catches your eyes on him. You can feel your heartbeat fall down somewhere to your feet – you’ve been caught! But before you can see how Higuruma reacts…

“Ah, Shimizu! Well done today!” you say with a polite nod to your coworker who emerges right in front of your desk, visibly ready to go home after yet another day’s grueling overtime – cute, mindful bag in her hand, work costume wrinkled after hours of sitting in one place; interrupting your session of staring at your higher-up. Which is probably for the best, you think. You are new compared to everyone else, you are supposed to be working twice as harder, not dedicating your time to undressing the poor, exhausted Higuruma with your eyes. All of a sudden, you feel shame burn at your cheeks. Just a tiny little bit.

“Oh, not at all, you’re too kind!” Shimizu denies the praise with the dismissive wave of her hand, but you can see that she’s just being polite because you don’t know each other too well. “Yet” – You add in your mind. You’ll be accepted here, you just need a little time. “How are you settling in? Everyone’s nice to our cute kouhai I hope?”

“Oh, yes! Everyone’s very kind! I’m looking forward to working and getting along with everyone in the future!” You say and add another small bow for emphasis – even though you are already hired it was instrumental to make the right impression on your coworkers.

“That’s great to hear! About that actually…” You tense up for a moment, already running millions of possible scenarios through your mind. Did someone write you up or complain? That would be very typical for what you were used to here – no direct confrontation with you, instead an anonymous complaint made to HR and you’re out of here faster than you can apologize. Or maybe it’s a complaint from Higuruma himself, fed up with being stared at like he was a piece of meat, by “the foreigner” of the firm no less. You can feel your legs shake under a flimsy desk. “We’re going out for drinks! You’re going, right?”

Okay, false alarm. You are prepared for something like this. Shimizu was obviously putting you in a position where you’re not supposed to decline…But you were so tired, and the workload this week was just horrible, along with all the hours of overtime you did-

“Oh, and Higuruma’s going too.”

Come to think of it, you actually feel pretty energized and ready to go. You don’t catch the cheeky smile Shimizu sends over her shoulder to the previously mentioned man, and the most precious, thankful look he gives her in response.

“I-I suppose it wouldn’t hurt...” you mutter, trying your hardest not to seem as desperate as you are in actuality, to have an opportunity to finally get to know Hiromi somewhere outside work. This work crush has been driving you up the wall for too long, might as well start acting on it, if it’s here to stay. Maybe you’ll get to be friends with Hiromi, and that will resolve your yearning for him. It always dissipates when the person you desire is right by your side.

However, you don’t get an opportunity for a one-on-one with Higuruma that you hoped for until much later in the night. You caught stray looks from him multiple times, but each time Hiromi met your eyes he would look away in an instant, with his neck turning so hard you were half-sure you could hear it crack. It felt pretty discouraging, looking at him silently pour the drinks down the hatch from the other side of the table, without even attempting to talk to you, while others were trying their best to make you feel welcome. Hiromi just made you so…confused.

So, you decide to step out for a moment, lost in your thoughts. Lo and behold, there is the man of the hour himself, leaned up against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers. You are surprised at how he can stand up straight, after all these drinks he consumed without eating anything (and you’re pretty sure you didn’t see him eat lunch either), but you just settle on the fact that Hiromi might just be like that – a mystery to you. His face is barely illuminated by the low light pouring out of the windows of the izakaya, a slight flush on his tan cheeks making your mind travel places.

“Can I have one?” You blurt out, before you can stop yourself. Oh, this is so stupid. You can feel your face heat up, and not even a gentle autumn breeze is able to cool you down at the moment. Oh, you were so about to screw up all of this. Nevertheless, you slowly approach him, as Hiromi’s head slowly turns to you and you can see a corner of his mouth twitch when he registers it’s you speaking. Huh. Interesting.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Hiromi mumbles, taking a pack out of his pocket, clumsy fingers struggling to pull out a cigarette for you. Well, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to see you smoke, since you only did that if you were drunk or stressed out. “I never saw you in the smoking room. Though, saw you pass by. Quite a lot.” Higuruma continues rambling, his head tilted forwards, eyes unsure and watery, staring up from under his eyebrows, focused solely on you. You can practically feel yourself getting hypnotized by the absolutely charming puppy dog eyes Hiromi is giving you, to the point of not noticing the man offering you the cig you just asked for a couple of seconds ago.

“Uh, yeah. Guilty as charged.” You chuckle, not finding anything better to say, as you gently take what you’re offered. The silence falls over both of you, as your lips squeeze the “cancer stick” between them, Higuruma now fumbles to find a lighter. Well, it’s your chance to talk, but you, sadly, find yourself lost for words.

Hiromi, much like yourself, cannot find the courage to speak up, as his eyes keep trailing back to your face, now more stunning than ever, surrounded by the blue air of the night instead of synthetic fluorescent lights of the office that rarely do justice to your beauty. He definitely overdid it with the liquid courage. Now he can’t muster up a thought to strike up a conversation with you. And it was supposed to be a chance for him to get to know you better, in an informal way. Way to go, you absolute nutjob.

“You seem to be a very hard worker, Higuruma. I thought you’d stay for overtime instead of going out for drinks.” You finally say what’s on your mind, when you see Hiromi can’t seem to find the lighter he’s been looking for, for the past minute, maybe.

“Well, first I was staying so long because of work, and now it’s because of you.” Hiromi blurts out with his eyes looking right at you. When the man finally realizes what he just said, his eyes are immediately drawn downwards, avoiding yours.

“What?” You look at him, for a moment thinking that your hearing gave up on you. Higuruma didn’t just say what you heard him say, right?

“What?” Hiromi’s tone is neutral and even calm, but behind it he was panicking. Why in the hell did he just say that?! He definitely weirded you out and now everything will fall apart, all thanks to his absolute inability to handle his liquor better. “I mean, you need someone to look at while you work, right? Might as well be me.” What was he talking about? If you weren’t standing right in front of him, so perfect and beautiful in the dim lights, with your hair exquisitely disheveled, and his eyes getting drawn to your figure in all the right places, his hands would definitely fly up to his face in exasperation at his sheer stupidity.

“You’re funny.” You finally chuckle out in a hushed tone, like you were saying something absolutely scandalous, and not just bashfully stating your opinion.

“No, I’m just drunk.” He states rather bluntly, and you’re taken aback for a moment. “I’m actually a lightweight. Without...” Higuruma makes a vague gesture with his hand, which you take as him referring to the copious amounts of alcohol running through his blood at the moment. “…I’d be too scared to talk to you.”

“Huh? Why would you be scared to talk to me?” You respond with yet another breathy laugh, feeling an incredibly strong surge of confidence, hearing that the whole time this grown man was scared of approaching you – polite and shy newbie, deeply infatuated with…everything about him. Which, Hiromi was so luckily and obviously unaware of.

“You’re just…” The unintentional pause is much shorter than it feels like, as a sudden hiccup interrupts his heartfelt confession. “Very…gorgeous. But uh…in a professional sense.” You can hear an uneven crack in Higuruma’s voice, and if for someone else it would’ve been a turn-off, you can already feel how breathing suddenly becomes a thing you need to be aware of. “Or whatever.”

“Or whatever?” You echo, with an amused smile tugging at your lips, as an idea dawns on you out of the blue. “Higuruma, could you…” you trail off, immediately bringing his attention to whatever you were about to ask of him. Oh, he was ready to do anything you’d ask. Jump? With pleasure. Drop down to his knees? Gladly. Kiss you? Please.

He freezes in place, as you lean closer to him, a surge of previously known, but supressed feelings rising with a tremble in his chest. The end of your cigarette touches a little burning cherry at the end of his, your eyes slowly drift up to his own, producing an incomprehensible, fiery spark when your gazes meet. Higuruma almost thinks the ground disappeared from under his feet right that moment, because in little less than a second of staring into your eyes like that, alluring, precious gemstones pulling him in with a siren’s song, he’s falling. Hard.

Hiromi’s face doesn’t hide even a sliver of what he’s experiencing at the moment, as he looks at you in awe, half-way sure that his heart is about to burst in a million of pieces while you’re lighting your cigarette with his. He wishes this moment would go on forever. He wished you’d reach out to him, throw out the damn cigarettes, close the miniscule distance that felt like kilometres and kiss him, so hard he’d surely loose his mind for you completely.

The seconds feel like hours, electricity and warmth bouncing inside of him, while cold air blows on his skin, failing to cool him down from the mad high he was experiencing just from your presence, so distant and at the same time, close.

“Thanks.” You mutter a short response, tactfully making a point not to mention the way his face got even redder (which you didn’t think was possible, yet here you are). Your lips wrap around the cigarette, inhaling the smoke, the slight hit of nicotine dulling your senses for a moment making you flutter your eyelashes in pleasure.

“You’re always…a problem.” He responds, quietly, and you arch your brow at his strange response. Higuruma immediately looks horrified as it dawns on him just what exactly he said in his…rather unsuccessful attempt to articulate his thoughts, as you mumble out an unsure “excuse me?”. Hiromi’s hands fly up to meet his face, exasperated sigh leaving his lips. Why did he always had to be…like this? He was confident and easily able to keep a cool head in the courtroom, faced with people representing and facing justice. Why, why was he losing face in front of you of all people? It was frankly frustrating, and he…

“Ha-ha-ha…I am, aren’t I?” You return playfully, seeing the sheer distress on Hiromi’s face and deciding to play off his probably unintentional slip-up as a joke. He didn’t, couldn’t mean what he said, right? He was always friendly (even if a little distant, but who weren’t like that to new, unfamiliar people, right?), polite…Unless?

“No! No! That’s not what I was trying to say…” Hiromi immediately corrects himself, a little too eager to fix the mistake he’s sure might cost him your precious attention at the moment. He can’t lose it. He absolutely cannot wait until the next drinking party to get close to you. It already feels like too much - keeping himself in reigns, containing the burn that threatens that spill over from the mere gaze that felt too intimate for his drunk consciousness.

Well…not that you aren’t an actual problem. It’s hard to concentrate whenever you are in the room. Higuruma’s eyes would inevitably drift over to you, observing every motion of your form, desperate for any sliver of attention from you. Didn’t matter if it was a polite nod, a quick half-bow or a smile, he always felt a dull ache in his chest, because that was not enough to satiate the hunger for you, cramping up in his insides, making him feel like he was utterly starved. And he definitely was. For affection, for gentle touch, for a soothing hand and for tenderness that came with it. Yeah, you were definitely a problem. One that needed an immediate solution.

“I was trying to say that…you’re always welcome and it’s not a problem. At the same time.” He finally managed to mutter out, explaining himself. A smile grazes your lips at that, and he can’t help himself but think how he wants be graced by the beauty of that smile first thing when he wakes up the morning. That would make going to sleep at night so much easier.

“Well, I’m glad that you don’t think I’m a problem then.” You say with a tiny laugh. Well, Hiromi didn’t exactly say that, but….

“Of course not. You’re…” Higuruma stops for a moment, before a sudden hiccup shakes his form. You stifle a chuckle from how cute for some reason it was, to hear a frown man hiccupping much like an overfed kitten. “Very hard-working. A good addition to the team.” He gives you a verdict with a nod, further solidifying his words. At that point, he wasn’t even sure what he was talking about, but that’s the first chance he ever got to talk to you informally, and by God, he’s going to make use of it. “If you ask me, you’ve got what it takes to be a great permanent addition.” To him, a sudden thought rushed through his mind, but he managed to keep his lips sealed.

“I appreciate what you’re saying, Higuruma.” You say with another one of your pleasant smiles and nods to him, taking another drag of your cigarettes and blowing the smoke out to the side, blissfully unaware of how Hiromi’s droopy, desperate eyes fixated on the pout of your lips. You were truly thankful he had this opinion, but life-time contracts? Here? As a foreigner? It would be easier for you to get to the moon and back, than receive an offer like that.

“You know you can just call me Hiromi, right?” He almost whispered, not daring to meet your eyes after such a bold move on his part. You felt your heart leap inside your chest. If you weren’t right in front of the man, you’d start kicking your feet, giggling, then you’d scream in a pillow, run a couple of laps, high-five yourself and finally face-plant into the asphalt victoriously, but you were a responsible adult, so you had to keep those teenage-esque urges inside of yourself. Despite how much you wanted to let them out at times.

“Alright then…Hiromi.” You knew what you’re doing to him. You had to, right? Because how can your voice can get so alluring and sultry all of a sudden while saying his name? Why did you whisper it, rolling it around between your pretty lips, almost like you were tasting a candy? Higuruma was a goner, that’s for sure.

Higuruma can’t help, but look into your eyes, marvel at you smile and the way your eyes glimmer in the low lighting, how the perfect curve of your lips calls for him, and how your hips beg to rest his hands on them. In that moment he only can think with nothing but his heart, that keeps shoving the thought that rest like honey on his tongue.

He needs you. Utterly and completely.

“So…do you want to have another drink? On me, of course.”

Hiromi takes his shot, and he’s not going to miss it.

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cimmanonrowl · 5 months ago

Note

Hi, I saw that you’re taking dbf requests for Hotch! Could I request a fic with dbf!Hotch where he finally makes a move on reader during a party being hosted by her dad? Also, I love your fics sm!!

Dress

It was your father’s appointment party as Chief Justice when lawyers and businessmen overtly offer their sons as your marriage prospects. All while Aaron Hotchner listened quietly beside you, you can tell that he’s not too happy about it.

Pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner x bfd!reader

Theme: spicy hotshot

Contents: age gap, making out, angry confession.

The decorous garden of your home residence was filled with a crowd of guests long before the party officially started. Prominent people of different names and titles— some of your father’s business partners and colleagues in the Supreme Court, and some family friends you barely recognize— draped in their finest garments and overtly high status in society.

Pleasantries and polite conversations were exchanged; and as your father greeted each one of his dear friends, you had no other choice but to stay beside him all the time and be on your best behavior.

“You have a very nice house here, Chief Justice,” Emilia Kane— one of your father’s business partners as you recalled— said with a dainty smile.

You mirrored her small nod when she glanced at you, smiling politely at the woman and the other two beside her. “Good evening, Ma’am.”

“Good evening, dear. You look absolutely gorgeous…” She took a sip of her champagne and raked your outfit subtly, a kind smile on her face. “What year are you in University now?”

“She just graduated a month ago, Emilia. She’s entering Harvard Law this fall, haven’t I told you yet?” Your father intercepted proudly, making you purse your lips as you initially intended to answer the question.

The woman beamed in amazement as she glanced at you. “Oh my, congratulations! I’m so sorry I didn’t know.”

“She graduated top of her class.”

You sighed lightly, glancing at your father. “Dad…”

“I’m sure you’ve seen the photos, Emilia. I posted everything on my social accounts...” Father dear went on, still smiling widely.

“Dad, please.”

“Oh, did you?” The woman said in awe, alternating her amused gaze between you and your father. “And did he get you a new car, dear? An apartment? What did he get you for your graduation?”

“I wanted to give her all thos—”

“No, dad…” You shook your head, chuckling.

“Well, I rented an entire villa in Mykonos for her and her friends. She just got back from Greece yesterday.”

“Dad!” Heat crept in your cheeks as he continued. This conversation is making you sound like a hopeless case of a spoiled brat when it wasn’t entirely true. You might appear spoiled for other people at times but not on a hopeless— certainly not on a spoiled brat level.

“Oh, dear, you’re fine…” The other woman chuckled sympathetically. “I bought my son a new Porsche just because he didn’t get himself kicked out of University. I’m sure your father’s just proud.”

You shyly darted your gaze at your dad as you felt his palm on your linked arms. “Why won’t I be? She’s my only daughter...”

The light conversation continued and was only interrupted when a couple of new guests approached your father. Several familiar faces of lawyers and judges; some from your father’s law firm and some from the Supreme Court. Over the past years, you got to know most of them, making you fix your posture and remind yourself to smile more pleasantly.

So you stood there prettily in silence, smiling, as you accepted their handshakes.

“You look beautiful, hija…”

You beamed at the compliment. “Thank you, attorney. Good evening.”

“Have you seen Marcus around? He told me he’d look for you.”

“Marcus?” You perked your eyebrows in curiosity. “Is he home already?”

The innocent question made your father chuckle a bit. “Yes, sweetie. I told you I played golf with them last week, remember?”

A bashful smile tugged at your lips as you looked at Attorney Jensen. They’re one of your closest family friends. His son, Marcus, is one of the kids you grew up hanging around with at law firm parties and at weekend golf clubs. He’s a nice kid... but everything turned weird when everyone started pairing you both as teenagers.

Your father must’ve told you about Marcus’ arrival but you’re sure you didn’t care enough the first time that you missed the entire story when he called.

“Well, I’m sure he’s just around...” You said with a sweet smile.

Minutes dragged by and their conversations continued. You stood beside your father in silence, occasionally engaging in the small talk. Some of the men asked about your education, your plan after law school, and your love life— all of which you answered as briefly and politely as possible.

“Sir, it’s time to prepare for your opening speech—” You turned in the organizer’s direction when you heard her voice.

You stared at your father expectantly. Well, it’s not like he would need your help in preparing for his speech. He’s a Chief Justice for heaven’s sake, surely he can do that alone. You just hope he’s not thinking of leaving you alone with these men.

“Thank you, Laura…” Your father turned to glance down at you. “Honey, would you mind staying here for a whi— never mind— Aaron!”

Your heart almost burst into ashes with the sudden cry of your father. You quickly followed his line of sight— immediately being greeted by the sight of your father’s dear best friend since University days.

Aaron Hotchner.

He’s in a well-polished suit. His dark hair was clean cut and even from afar, you can see the light stubble on his jaw. And Jesus Christ, how can someone look that good?

“Chief Justice,” He greeted your father with an equally wide yet endearing smile, deftly shaking hands while your father chuckled heartily.

Aaron turned to you with a timid smile, opening his arms as a little invitation. You noticed the hint of hesitation on his face with that. Yet still, you accepted the hug before placing a quick and delicate kiss on his cheek, your hands shaking as you perched both your palms on his arm.

“I’ll excuse myself for a while. Will you look after her, Aaron?” You heard your father say as you scrambled to step away from Aaron’s embrace.

He wetted his lower lip before nodding, not even daring to look at you. “Yeah, sure.”

Embarrassment licked your skin as you watched your unsuspecting father walk away. The moment he was completely out of sight, you felt Aaron’s gentle hand snaking at the low of your back, securing you from the waist— as if preventing you from running away from him.

Effortlessly, he engaged in conversations as he settled beside you. And just like earlier, you fell silent as everyone else was busy in their own conversations.

“How about you, are you planning to get married soon after graduating from Harvard Law?”

You smiled lightly as a couple of guests whirled their attention back to you. “I’m afraid I’ll have to look for a boyfriend first, attorney.”

Aaron’s thumb started rubbing soft strokes at your waist. He seemed to be doing that unconsciously because when you glanced at him, he was talking to another group of guests standing at his side.

“So you’re currently looking for a boyfriend?”

“Not really, no...” You chuckled awkwardly. “But if I meet a good one, why not?��

The older man took a huge swig of his brandy. “I have a son. He’s in DC. Surgeon.”

You nodded with an unsure smile. What do you even do with that kind of information?

“That’s impressive...” You said instead.

“He’s also looking for a girlfriend. I can hook you up if you like. I mean, he also graduated from Harvard—”

“That’s kind of you, attorney, but as I said I’m not really looking…”

“My son’s an architect. I believe your father mentioned you’re into art, is that correct?” Another man interrupted, taking an interest in the conversation.

“Yes, attorney…” You gave him a small smile.

Although this night wasn’t meant for you in any way, you’re aware that you are your father’s reflection to these people. You know how crucial it is that you remain polite as much as possible.

“Just a few dates, what do you say?” He offered with a humorous smile. “Come on, maybe we can merge our firms one day. You know, I don’t have any successor of my own. My son’s an architect.”

“It’s not her fault your son chose architecture,” Attorney Jensen cut off before you can reply for yourself. “Besides, my son has been courting her since they were young. He went home this year just to ask her out officially.”

Your breath hitched as you felt Aaron’s grip on your waist tighten. You glanced up at him in confusion, only to see that his usually kind eyes turned piercing, his eyebrows pulled into a tight frown. He seemed mad— furious. He looked furious at the incredulity he was hearing.

You glanced away, not sure what to make of that.

“I believe we need to go to our tables now...” Aaron said formally, his voice deep and serious. His eyes were pointed at his old colleagues and other businessmen.

You smiled at the waiting guests. “I believe I still want to hear what they’re saying...”

Aaron turned to you in disbelief, his scowl deepened.

“About?”

“About their sons.”

You watched Aaron with an innocent look, tilting your head a little, calming the rapid beating of your heart as you saw him let out a sigh of frustration.

Attorney Jensen chuckled at the sight. “Oh, come on now, Aaron. She’s a grown woman, plus it’s just a few dates. It won’t hurt surely.”

“Surely...” You nodded along, glancing at the other men. “It won’t hurt to try.”

You bit your lower lip as Aaron leaned into your ear. His hot breath fanned over your skin, his deep voice sending chills to trickle down your spine.

“Continue this conversation, young lady, and let’s see what will happen.”

The horrified look on your face drew laughter from the guests. They must’ve thought Aaron was threatening to tell this to your father. So you turned away, your smile dropping as you looked around apologetically.

Your father’s voice from the make-shift stage snatched everyone’s attention from you and the conversation. Some marshalls started ushering people to their seats to prepare for the opening speech of the Chief Justice. With small nods and smiles, they all marched toward their respective tables and left you on the spot with Aaron.

“Come with me.”

You staggered sidewards, looking around in slight panic. “The party’s starting.”

“We have to talk.”

“Aaron,” You sighed, eyeing the stage. “My father’s giving his speech…”

That only made him frown deeper. “You proofread that speech for him, you won’t miss anything.”

“So what if I did? I still want to listen.”

He wandered his gaze around the venue before guiding you away from the crowd. It was seldom that Aaron visited your home residence. When he and your father hang out, they usually visit bars, golf clubs, or shooting ranges. But he does know the basic layout of your house. And you know that he’s leading you inside your home this time.

Deep down, you feel like you know exactly where he wants to talk.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” He blurted out angrily the moment you stepped inside your room.

You whirled around to face him, crossing your arms across your chest as you heaved a tired sigh.

“What, Aaron?”

He took a step forward. “Is that your way of getting back at me?”

You shrugged, still confused about the point he was making. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You perfectly know what I’m talking about.”

A beat of silence.

Then realization dawned, making you smile in pure resignation.

Two months ago, you made up your mind and finally confessed to Aaron Hotchner. You’re already graduating from University. You will enter a Law School soon. What’s there to lose? Aaron had been showing the subtlest of signs that he likes you back: the way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel cared for and safe, the way— you mistook everything for a reciprocated love.

He cared for you, yes.

Simply because you are your father’s extension.

So what’s this? Why bother now?

“It was clear you didn’t like me,” You whispered quietly. “Which is fine, Aaron, really. I understand— I mean, I was hurt obviously. But… but I understand. I’ll just have to move on, right?”

“You’ve no idea what you’re saying…” He mumbled hoarsely, still piercing you with his darkened gaze. With quick steps, he bridged the gap between you and cupped your cheeks on both his hands.

You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “Aaron…”

“How can I let you move on when that thought alone is killing me?”

Your breath hitched at his words. “W-what?”

“Fuck this,” He spat angrily before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “You’re driving me mad, sweetheart.”

The sound of muffled laughter, distant conversations, and clinking glasses filtered in through the partially open window. You can barely hear a word of what your father was saying in his speech. All you are aware of is how Aaron desperately chased your lips with hungry and deep kisses, and how the weight of his body was forcing you to blindly take several steps back.

You melted into his sinful lips, your arms snaking around his neck and pulling him closer. You felt his hands move down to your waist, gripping tightly the thin fabric of your satin dress. The sound of ragged breathing mingled in the air as he walked you backward, backward until your back finally hit the wall.

His lips trailed down your neck, nipping and leaving a wet trail of heat in your wake.

You gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into him. “Aaron…”

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire. His big, calloused hands roamed over your body, exploring, familiarizing you.

“Aaron, what are you—” You rasped weakly as he broke another kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Don’t do that again…” He whispered back, breathing heavily as he closed his eyes. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll think of something, I’ll do something just don’t—”

“Don’t what, Aaron?”

“You’ve no idea what you were saying. Your confession— how can you think that I don’t like you?”

“Well…” You blushed, still catching your breath. “You didn’t say anything after, then you sent me home. You didn’t attend my graduation. You didn’t reply to my texts or even congratulate me.”

“You told me I don’t have to say anything…”

“Well, technically, if you didn’t say anything then you don’t like me.”

“You really have no idea what you’re saying, darling.”

You shivered at his whispered words, feeling a surge of boldness. Your hands found the button of his shirt, eager to feel the warmth of his skin. You clumsily tugged on his tie and ripped his clothes off of him, tossing them aside.

Aaron Hotchner could only watch in anticipation as you let the strap of your dress fall on the soft curve of your shoulders... until all your clothes quickly became a forgotten pile on the floor, your moans intertwining like ropes in the party-stained air.

As always, any thoughts and reactions are highly appreciated. Plus, to anon who requested this, YOU ARE AN ANGEL. I loved crafting this with this plot, and hopefully, you liked it as much as I do! See you all on the next ones, we have a few other good requests!

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #dbf!aaron hotchner #dbf!hotch #rolipops requests #criminal minds fanfiction

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