"Can you do a Hotch x Babysitter one shot? Maybe Hotch comes home late one night and he doesn't have any cash on him, so he has to find another way to pay her." - @1-800-DILAUDID TW: smut, choking, spanking, degradation, praise, hair pulling
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You lean back against Aaron's couch, Netflix playing on the TV softly in the background. You'd put Jack to bed about an hour ago; still waiting for Aaron to come home. You don't babysit Jack a lot—usually on nights when Aaron went out with his team, which are rare.
You knew Aaron from a college lecture—he guest lectured at a seminar about serial killers and profiling at your college. Not only was he incredibly handsome, but also very smart, and you ran into him after the lecture and introduced yourself. One thing led to another, and he'd hired you as a babysitter so you could make some extra money while in school. Honestly, you'd mainly taken the job because you got to see an incredibly attractive man every so often, and he paid well. Aaron's also sweet—and he'd insisted you call him Aaron instead of Mr. Hotchner. He found it too formal.
The front door opening jolts you out of your thoughts and you jump slightly, sitting up on the couch. You watch Aaron cross into the house, his suit jacket thrown over his arm. He shuts the door behind him, and you take the time to admire him. He's wearing a light blue button up, hugging his chest and biceps, his sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. It was tucked into a pair of black dress pants, a black belt resting on his hips. A silver watch rested on his wrist, and you looked back up his face, noticing his usually neatly gelled hair a little disheveled. He looks...hot. Really hot.
"Sorry I'm so late, Y/n," he apologizes, setting his suit jacket down on a chair, looking at you, an apologetic smile on his face.
You stand, shaking your head. "It's fine, Aaron. Jack fell asleep a while ago, so I've just been entertaining myself."
He stands at the end of the couch. "I apologize, nonetheless. You probably have homework or something to do."
"Really, Aaron, it's fine," you say, laughing softly. "Jack's a sweet kid."
"Here, let me give you your payment, and you can be on your way. I'd hate to keep you too late," he says, pushing his large hands into his pockets.
His brow furrows and he pulls out his wallet, and you see him bite the inside of his cheek. His brown eyes flick up to meet yours, and an undeniable heat stirs in your lower belly.
"God, I'm sorry. I don't have any cash on me," he says, obviously flustered as he shoves his wallet back in his pocket. His eyes search your face, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks.
You take a step toward him, giving him a small smile. "It's alright, Aaron, really."
"No, no, you spent all night here. You deserve your payment," he laughs, and you watch his eyes flick down to your lips and back up again.
