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#Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader
jqhotchner · 3 days
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pennyg
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Liked by derekmorgan and 3,000 others
pennyg congratulations are in order to my boss @ahotchner and our girl! we love you both
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derekmorgan best wedding!
davidrossi so glad to have had the wedding in my home
jennijar they’re everything, honestly!
spencreid the best wedding
prentissem cheesy but beautiful
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thewulf · 2 days
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Hiii🌸🌸 well this is my first time requesting so it's conoletly fine if you don't like this idea, no problem here!
Also I don't know how much you like to write about family dynamics, but if it's alright with you...
Aaron Hotchner x reader,
It will be like 2 moments in different years... like the first time little Jack is comfortable enough around reader to call her mom... and the other one teen Jack not taking her grounding while Aaron is away and screamimg at her something like "You are not my mom".... And of course Aaron is there the whole time taking care of his' and his family emotions.
Kinda fluff, then angst and fluff ending hahha
If you want to write it, it would be such an honor you are my favorite writter in here but if you don't feel like it, it's fine
Love you and thank you 🌸🌸🌸
Ooooof this one is brutal. But I love it. Kids are sooooo mean sometimes and know exactly how to make it hurt!
You got it!
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dashofghost · 26 days
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CASUAL
or, Aaron Hotchner's size kink. minors dni.
➼ Aaron Hotchner who lines his cock up against your stomach just to see how far it'll go and moans shamelessly. His thumb works mindless circles on the place where he was as you bury your head is his neck while he murmurs "I know you can take it, sweetheart."
➼ Aaron Hotchner whose hands are so big when he cups your pussy and it only makes you leak all over it. You can grind against his palm while his thumb rubs your clit and he's everywhere. He licks your slick off his palm and his eyes roll back in his head.
➼ Aaron Hotchner who wears grey sweatpants around your house and isn't surprised when he's grinding against your hand in the kitchen thirty minutes later. Watching your hand disappear under his sweatpants and boxers is erotic enough, but when you pull him out and your hand covers so little of his cock? He has to grab the cabinet behind him so hard his knuckles turn white.
➼ Aaron Hotchner who hates how turned on he is when the first time you have sex, you whine "Aaron, it's not gonna fit." He soothes you, propping your hips up on a pillow and spreading your legs. You take him inch by inch, scratching up his back and he fucking loves it. When he bottoms out, he can barely breathe: you're so tight around him and your walls are pulsing and he moans drunkly as he realizes.
➼ Aaron Hotchner who watches with heavy-lidded eyes as you cum all over his cock before he can even get to fucking you. He can't tare his eyes away from the place where your bodies meet. His thighs start shaking as he tucks a strand of hair behind your head, a soft murmur of "you all right, angel?" leaving his lips.
➼ Aaron Hotchner who makes you cum again after just ten strokes. He's pretty sure you've scratched his back to bloody ribbons and he realizes with a shiver that he likes the sting. He can't stop himself this time: he cums, pulling you close to his chest, reveling in the warmth. He watches his own cum leak out of you, your body unable to take both his cock and cum at the same time. His eyes flutter shut as he pulls out, whole body singing in overstimulation.
➼ Aaron Hotchner who wraps his arms around you in the shower, his hands swallowing your thighs as he washes them and he wouldn't have it any other way.
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ynscrazylife · 28 days
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i need to be excused (aaron hotchner x wife!reader)
summary: yknow that scene where hotch says “excuse me” and then faints? imagine that but his wife does it to him.
Having a profiler for a husband gets annoying with how observent he is. Unfortunately, you’re also a profiler, so it’d be hypocritical to complain.
Still, when Hotch notices the slightest thing wrong, he latches onto it. He’s had his eye on you ever since you took a hard hit from a fight in the field. You barely had time to recover before the team had to board the jet again to respond to some emergency Strauss needed them for.
Apparently, a man who claims to be linked to other murders and who was a former BAU agent had made a threat against Strauss’s family. Finally back at the BAU, the team’s stuck calling people, making arrangements, going through endless paperwork to try and get more information and figure out what was going on.
You’re not doing so hot. Still reeling from the pain, but also exhausted and definitely moody. Hotch keeps it professional since they’re at work, but is still watching out for you.
Hours later, after correctly identifying the man and making the arrest (which included lots of running around), the team again returns to their base. They’re going through everything and debriefing next steps, when you abruptly stand.
“I need to be excused for a moment,” you say, already sounding breathless, before promptly keeling over and collapsing onto the floor.
For a second, everyone freezes in shock. Hotch is the first to react. He all but screams your name, dropping to his knees and trying to assess what’s going on.
“Honey, honey? C’mon, wake up. What’s going on? Sweetheart, please,” Hotch says as he shakes you, moving you so that your head is in his lap.
Spencer kneels on your other side, gently taking your pulse and reporting that it’s stable. “Could be exhaustion, dehydration . . .” He trails off, listing all the reasons he can think of.
Hotch uses one hand to run his fingers through your hair and the other to cup your face, lightly tapping your cheek. After nearly a minute of the team standing around, wondering what to do, your eyes start to flutter open.
“Aaron?” You mutter, seeing your husband’s eyes first.
“Hi, hon. You passed out. I need you to tell me how you’re feeling,” he says, keeping his voice soft but letting out a breath of relief now that you’re awake. He continues threading his fingers through your hair and rubs his thumb against your cheek.
You blink a couple times and then say, “Tired.”
Exhaustion, then. “You’re sure that’s it? Is anything else wrong?” Hotch asks, anxious to role out some underlying cause.
You nod, then grimace at the lightheaded feeling it gives you, turning and smushing the side of your face in Hotch’s lap. He looks up at the team and gestures his head towards the door.
They get the hint, though Emily and Spencer do offer to stay behind and help. Hotch thanks them but assures them that you’ll be alright and the team takes off.
“Do you feel alright to sit up?” Hotch asks after a moment.
“Yeah,” you murmur and, with his help, sit up. You immediately lean into his arms. “Ooh, wow. Dizzy.”
“I think you pushed yourself a bit too hard, sweetheart. We gotta make sure you rest properly. Wouldn’t hurt to get some food and water in you, too,” Hotch says, cradling you.
You hum in agreement. The two of you sit there for a bit, Hotch being in no rush to move you. He can’t help but reflect a bit and he sighs, shaking his head.
“What?” You ask grumpily.
“Just a little in shock that you actually excused yourself before fainting,” he says. He recognizes the funniness of it, though he lacks any amusement, still too worried.
You chuckle. “Was tryin’ to be polite,” you explain.
“I’m sure you were,” Hotch says, smearing a kiss against your head.
You continue on sitting, Hotch rubbing your back. Finally, he gets the both of you on your feet, and leads you out to the car. He sits you in the passenger’s seat and buckles you in, driving you home. Once there Hotch immediately gets you in bed, helping you change into pajamas before doing the same. He gets you a glass of water and a snack, making sure that you eat and drink it all.
“Wanna sleep now,” you mumble once you’re done, curling into his chest.
“Of course, dear. Just relax,” he coos, already planning to call you both out of work tomorrow. He does not take his wife fainting lightly and is going to do everything he can to make sure you’re okay.
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chvoswxtch · 4 months
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A fic where reader likes Aaron but is like 20 years younger than him (I checked the math, even at the start of the show, he was 43 so that wouldn't have been weird. Unless u find that weird? Pretend i said 10 years if that weirds u out) and she thinks she doesn't have a chance with him and that he wouldn't even consider her. And so she just pines over him with the unrequited crush blues. Maybe hotch seems to "baby" her and be extra protective of her so she chalks it up to being the baby of the team. Meanwhile he does not view her as a baby. At all. And maybe he doesn't even realize he treats her any different. Angst welcome! Definitely romance
She/her pronouns for the fic if u want to do it please 🙏 and thank u 😁
– Zee
MY DARLING ZEE
I have been SO excited to post this one, so thank you for requesting it. as usual, I got carried away, but it's daddy hotch so I apologize for nothing
enjoy ;)
warnings: swearing, lots and lots of angst word count: 4.5k
baby.
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Furious didn’t even begin to cover the way you felt currently. The entire cabin of the jet was thick with tension radiating from your barely concealed rage, and for a split second you felt guilty, because the team’s discomfort was more than palpable. But as your gaze wandered to the opposite end of the jet and you caught sight of the culprit of your vexation, brooding heavily in your direction, any sliver of remorse evaporated from your pores and your eyes instantly hardened in response.
Fucking Aaron Hotchner.
Hotch’s thick dark brows were pinched together, creating a crease of annoyance right between them, and his lips were pressed in a line that was harsher than usual, causing his frown lines to settle even deeper into the skin around his mouth. His deep umber eyes were void of any warmth, and there was no evidence of faint mirth creasing around them. Instead his lethal gaze was cold as steel, and as rigorous as stone.
You had seen a more intense version of that look several times before whenever he interviewed unsubs that made monsters look like fairytales, and normally it sent a chill down your spine. Not because you were scared of your boss; quite the opposite actually. Every time you watched him stare down the worst of humanity with an aura of disinterest and a hard glare that showed he was completely unimpressed, you found yourself more and more attracted to him. Especially on the rare occasions when he lost his temper and ended up slamming his hands on the table while yelling in their face. You found that incredibly hot. 
From the day you met Hotch for your interview, you had found him attractive. Intimidating as hell, but attractive. The fact that he was your boss didn’t deter you from developing a little crush on him, or the fact that he was a widower with a six year old son. None of that stopped the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach every time he gave you a tiny bit of praise in the form of a “good job”, or a simple nod of approval. In fact, the more Hotch warmed up to you, the worse your little crush got.
You found yourself grinning whenever someone made him crack the tiniest of smiles, and nothing fueled your ego more than his quiet snort whenever you said something he seemed to find funny. Hotch surprisingly had a great sense of humor when the stress of being the unit chief of the B.A.U. wasn’t looming over his head. He could be stubborn and closed off sometimes, and he wasn’t always the best with words, but you could tell by his actions that he truly cared about his team. Unfortunately for you, his treatment revealed exactly how he saw you. 
The baby of the team. 
It was no secret that’s how the rest of the team saw you too. Derek had been teasingly, but affectionately, referring to you as “Baby Spice” since your first day because you were by far the youngest member of the team and beyond feisty. Spencer even joined in with the nicknames, jokingly calling you “kid” with a proud grin now that he was no longer the youngest, even though there was less than a five year gap between the two of you, which Rossi constantly reminded him of with a smack to the back of his head. At a certain point you realized that Rossi just enjoyed messing with Spencer, but you still grinned at him in appreciation every time he came to your defense.
Even though you were far from being a child, Hotch still treated you differently than the others, which did not go unnoticed by anyone. He was far more protective of you, not allowing you to go anywhere alone when the team was working a case, and he hardly ever wanted you in the interrogation room with unsubs. Only after Emily backed you up, insisting it was important to your training, did he finally allow you to interrogate. But it was under the strict condition that he was always the one in the room with you. He never allowed you to enter a crime scene or a suspected location of an unsub first, and the first time you got injured while on a case, resulting in the tiniest of a cut above your eyebrow, Hotch forced you to take a leave of absence for two weeks.
You made it three days before you burst into his office and demanded that he end your leave.
He didn’t.
Because of the way Hotch seemed to “baby” you, it resulted in the rest of the team doing it too. Emily and JJ weren’t as bad about it, but they definitely put themselves in front of you anytime a situation got dangerous. Derek and Hotch were by far the worst and the most obvious about being overprotective, but Spencer and Rossi weren’t far behind. The only one that ever treated you as an equal was Garcia, and that’s why she was your favorite.
And the only one you confided in about your little crush on your boss. Although, you were sure Emily and JJ had caught on by now. They always flashed you a teasing smirk and a little wink anytime they caught you silently pining.
But that was what seemed to solidify that you would never have a chance with Hotch. Not that he was your boss, or that he had traumatically lost his wife, or that he had a young son, or even the fact that he was a good twenty years older than you. It was that he seemed to view you more as a helpless child than a capable woman.
As soon as the jet landed, you were the first one off. You could hear Hotch’s shoes stomping along the floor of Headquarters right on your heels. While you stopped at your desk to drop off your go bag, fully prepared to get your shit and leave, his angry march continued up the stairs towards his office, but he never once took his irritated glare away from your figure.
“Y/L/N, my office. Now.”
Gritting your teeth hard, you turned your head to shoot daggers in his direction, but he had already disappeared into his office. Disregarding the sympathetic concern from your coworkers, you furiously made your way up the stairs and made a dramatic show of slamming the door to Hotch’s office forcefully behind yourself, which in turn made his eyes narrow into vehement slits as he looked at you. He straightened his back, squaring his shoulders while he stepped around his desk to stand a few feet away from you. He looked absolutely pissed, but you were too lost in your own rage to care.
“You were completely out of line-”
“Oh, bullshit! I was doing my job-”
“I gave you a direct order and you ignored it, putting yourself and the entire team at risk.”
Hotch’s voice rose in volume when you combated his critique, and even though you had spoken over him first, the fact that he was now doing it to you only fueled your anger further. You took a bold step forward and glared up at Hotch as you grit your rebuttal out through your teeth.
“I saved that kid’s life-”
“By being reckless! You could’ve gotten him killed. You could have gotten killed. Don’t you get that?”
“But I didn’t! No one got hurt, so what the fuck is the issue-”
“The issue is you.”
Hotch’s comment quickly halted the verbal punch you were about to throw, and as you glared up at him, you noticed that his nostrils were flaring with fury and that his darkened eyes were wild and blown open with pure unbridled rage. The sting of his words caused the wildfire flaring inside of you to shrink to the dull roar of a fireplace blaze. Crossing your arms over your chest in a sign of defiance, you lowered the volume of your voice and layered it with acidity. 
“You’re a fucking hypocrite.”
Hotch narrowed his eyes, which seemed to be glowing with resentment, as he took another step towards you, faintly cocking his head to the side.
“Excuse me?”
He was giving you an opportunity to correct yourself. But one thing Hotch hadn’t seemed to learn about you was that you could be just as stubborn as he was, and once you reached a certain stage in your wrath, you didn’t back down. You went straight for the jugular.
“If it had been you, you wouldn’t have called it ‘reckless’. But because it’s me, you flip out and blow the whole fucking thing out of proportion because you treat me like I’m a goddamn child-”
“I wouldn’t treat you like a child if you didn’t fucking act like one.”
At this point, there was barely an inch of space between you and Hotch, and you had to tilt your head back slightly just to return his scowl. He might as well have thrown gasoline on the fire with that comment, and you were suddenly completely fed up with no one in this goddamn building viewing you as a grown fucking woman.
“If it had been Derek, or Emily, you wouldn’t be giving them shit like this. You would’ve given them a slap on the wrist, but still acknowledged that they got the job done. So why do I get treated differently-”
“Because you’re not as good as you think you are, and you’re certainly not as good as them.”
That simple statement hurt worse than if Hotch had physically struck you across the face with the back of his hand. All the fury within you suddenly fizzled out, and you stood there dumbstruck while Hotch let out an exasperated exhale through his nose and turned away from you to walk around the corner of his desk and plop down angrily in his chair. He opened the file currently sitting in front of him and directed his irritated attention solely to the pages, reaching for a pen from the holder to his right to wrap his fingers around. He didn’t even look up as he barked out his next order.
“You’re suspended for three weeks. When you return, we’ll discuss your behavior and your future here at the B.A.U.”
Everything felt like it had suddenly come crashing down around you, and you found yourself wondering if it was all worth it. The stress of the job, the never ending hours, the horrors you saw day in and day out, but especially the treatment you received from Hotch and the others. You started to wonder if you had tricked yourself into believing it wasn’t harmful and had all come from a good place, but now you weren’t so sure anymore. For the first time since joining the B.A.U., you found yourself wanting out.
Swallowing the pieces of the lump that threatened to form in your throat, you lifted your chin slightly and spoke in a quiet but firm voice.
“No.”
Hotch quickly lifted his gaze to glower up at you, the thickness of his brows making him appear angrier from where you stood above him. However the second he caught the look on your face, his eyes softened considerably and he sat up straight, the semi permanent frown on his lips vanishing into a subtle line. His eyes followed the movement of your hand while you pulled the gun from the holster at your hip and sat it down in front of him on the desk, along with your badge. There was a brief flash of panic in Hotch’s eyes when he looked at you again, and his lips parted slightly, but you didn’t give him a chance to speak.
“I quit.”
Turning around to solemnly leave his office, you ignored the gentle pleas of your name leaving his lips. As you descended the stairs, the team’s heads perked up in curiosity, their gazes darting between your melancholic movements while you gathered your things, and the sight of a frantic Hotch rushing down the stairs like a man on a mission.
“Agent Y/L/N, do not walk away from me when I’m talking to you.”
Realizing that he was getting nowhere by being authoritative, Hotch let out an exasperated deep exhale through his nose and lowered the volume of his voice, speaking in a far gentler tone.
“Y/N we have to talk about this, you can’t just leave.”
You didn’t bother looking at any of them as you began your walk towards the elevators. You could still hear Hotch following closely behind you, and all of a sudden Derek’s large figure appeared in front of you. He dipped his head slightly to capture your eyes, the confusion on his features melting into pure concern as he glanced over your shoulder at Hotch before looking back at you. He held his right hand out towards you as if he were extending an olive branch and tilted his head to the side slightly.
“Whoa, what’s goin’ on Baby Spice? C’mon, talk to me.”
Derek was speaking to you in that gentle manner that he used when he wanted to show a victim that he wasn’t a threat. There was no doubt he could see the sadness and defeat glistening in your eyes, but you didn’t have the energy to rip open the wound any further.
“I’m going home. Please move.”
That was all you could manage to weakly get out as you attempted to step around him. But Derek, being Derek, wasn’t having it. He reached out to gently place his hand on your shoulder.
“I’ll drive you.”
“I can drive myself.”
“Baby-”
“I’m not a child, Derek. I don’t need your help, can you back off?”
Derek’s warm gaze widened considerably, and his neat onyx brows rose up his forehead in complete shock. You had never exploded on him like that, or any of the others for that matter. But right now all you wanted to do was get the hell out of there.
“Let her go.”
Derek glanced over your shoulder to look at JJ in pure confusion, but she gave a slight shake of her head while holding his gaze with a firm look in her ocean blue eyes, giving him a nonverbal cue to sit this one out. After a moment of hesitation, Derek removed his hand from your shoulder and took a step to the left to unblock your path. 
The entire team was silent while watching you disappear behind the elevator doors.
»»———  ———««
A subtle but firm series of knocks at your door roused you from your sleep. Squinting at the clock on your bedside table, the lime green numbers read ten twenty-three pm. You hadn’t even remembered falling asleep. As soon as you had walked through the door of your apartment hours ago, you kicked off your shoes and crawled in bed, your mind spiraling about what you had just done and what it meant for the future.
When the knocks grew more impatient, you threw your comforter off with an irritated huff and got out of bed, exiting your bedroom to make your way to the living room to figure out who the hell was knocking on your door this late. However when you swung the front door open, your unexpected visitor was the last person you expected it to be.
Aaron Hotchner.
The darkness under his eyes was more prominent than usual, and his neatly cropped hair looked messy, as if he had been stressfully running his fingers through it. The permanent scowl he normally wore was missing from his lips, and there was a faint flicker of concern highlighted in his eyes. The first two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, and his merlot colored tie hung loosely around his neck.
He looked exhausted.
Instead of speaking, you arched one of your dark brows, silently asking for the reason for his impromptu visit. As he shifted awkwardly to his other foot and cleared his throat, you realized you had never seen him look so unsure of himself.
“May I come in?”
Part of you wanted to slam the door in his face, but a bigger part of you was curious to know why your former boss had shown up at your door unannounced at ten thirty at night. Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you stepped aside to allow Hotch to pass by you. The second the door shut with a soft click and you turned around to face him, there was already a blanket of irritation tugging his features down. He didn’t even give you a chance to question his presence before speaking.
“You’re a pain in my ass.”
A dry laugh instantly escaped your lips, and a soft furrow settled between your brows while you crossed your arms over your chest.
“Wow, you’re really good at this whole apology thing, huh?”
“I’m not here to apologize. I’m here to be honest with you, and the honest truth is you’re a huge pain in my ass. You’re stubborn, emotionally reactive, not to mention combative-”
“Then why the hell did you hire me-”
“I’m not finished.”
Hotch was speaking in that firm authoritative voice he used whenever he wanted to make it crystal clear he wasn’t in the mood for bullshit or push back. Despite your burning desire to lash out again, you bit your tongue and settled for glaring at him instead.
“You are constantly acting like you have something to prove-”
“Because you make me feel like I have to, Aaron. You, and the rest of the team, make me feel like I have to prove my worth every fucking day. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is? Or how much that makes me doubt myself?”
“Do you ever stop talking long enough to listen to someone else speak?”
Tension hung in the small space of your living room like a heavy and dense fog. Hotch observed you silently for a moment as your frustrations lingered in the air while you refused to meet his eyes. There was an unreadable expression on his face, and he seemed to wait until he could tell your emotions had leveled out slightly before speaking again.
“I admired your compassion.”
Perplexity twisted up your features as you stared across your living room at Hotch.
“What?”
“You asked why I hired you. That’s why.”
He made it sound like it was the most simple statement in the world, but it only added another layer to the cryptic labyrinth you were trying to navigate.
“I don’t understand-”
“When I reviewed your case work with you in your interview, I was impressed by your attention to detail. But I was even more impressed that when I asked you questions about the victims you had worked with, you gave me personal details about them, not just black and white facts that were in their file. You remembered things about them. You humanized them instead of speaking about them like a statistic.”
All you could do was blink at him in surprise. That was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth. Sensing that a calmness had settled over you, Hotch took a cautious step forward and continued.
“You know just as much about the victims of notorious serial killers as you do about the serial killers themselves. Every solution you have to a problem is led with people in mind, trying to minimize casualties. You speak about victims like people, not numbers or objects. You put everyone’s feelings, and safety, before your own, and that is both the best thing about you and the worst.”
The sincerity in Hotch’s voice caught you off guard, and for a moment you weren’t sure what to say. He spoke to you in the soft voice you had once overheard him speaking to Jack in on the phone, and that caused a fluttering feeling inside your stomach. But it also added to your confusion. If he thought so highly of you, then why did he treat you the way he did?
“Why are you so different with me?”
Hotch let out a deep exhale through his nose, dragging his palm down his face slowly before loosely gesturing to you with his hand.
“Because it’s my job to protect you.”
“No it isn’t.”
It was Hotch’s turn to stare at you in puzzlement, his thick brows knit together in the center of his forehead. Running a hand through your hair in slight irritation, you shook your head slowly.
“I knew exactly what I was signing up for when I applied for this job. I knew it was dangerous-”
“My job as the unit chief is to keep my team safe-”
“No, Aaron. It’s to lead us. We all knew the risks when we joined. There is only so much you can control, you of all people should know that. I know you try to look out for us, but you don’t treat the rest of the team like you treat me. And I get it, okay? I am the youngest on the team, but I’m not a child-”
“I don’t think you’re a child.”
Hotch looked even more perplexed by your words, his head tilted to the side slightly while looking over at you.
“Y/N, your age has nothing to do with the way I treat you-”
“Then what is it?”
That uncertainty was once again shining in his eyes. It looked like Hotch was struggling internally with which version of his truth he wanted to give you. The revelation about your age not being a factor in his treatment filled you with a sense of relief, but also left you with more questions than answers. After what felt like an eternity of silence, Hotch’s face softened considerably as he took a few steps closer towards you.
“I…I care about all of you, and I don’t want to see anything happen to any of you.”
The intensity of his eye contact caused a slight shiver to nip at your spine, and it seemed like there was a hidden meaning to his sentence; something deeper. 
“You…care about me?”
The tiniest of smirks tugged at the edge of Hotch’s lips, and his eyes had lightened in color with pure amusement.
“You know, for one of my most brilliant profilers, you’re pretty bad at this. Should I be concerned?”
Warmth bloomed in your cheeks hearing the faint tease lingering at the edge of his question. Hotch had never been this laid back and playful with you before. It almost sounded like he was…flirting?
Your eyes widened slightly while staring up at him, an overly dramatic gasp leaving your lips.
“Was that…a joke? Did you just make a joke? Are you feeling alright? Should I call a doctor?”
Deciding to test the waters, you brought your hand up to place the back of it against his forehead before moving it downwards to place against his cheek, as if you were checking his temperature. All of a sudden, a huge tooth bearing grin stretched across his lips, and your breath caught in your throat.
He was smiling.
Aaron Hotchner was smiling. 
He gently grasped your wrist in his large hand, his grin fading to a miniscule smirk while his gaze became a little more intense.
“Actually, smartass, I’m having a bit of a rough night. One of my best profilers quit on me earlier. Although in her defense, I was kind of being a dick.”
“Kind of?”
“Don’t push it. I’m already doing something I normally don’t.”
“Which is?”
“Begging for forgiveness.”
Hotch hadn’t let go of your wrist, and either your mind was playing tricks on you, or he had somehow gotten closer. There was barely a centimeter separating your chests. Him telling you not to push it only made you want to do it that much more, and since you had already technically quit, you decided to throw caution to the wind.
“I don’t hear any begging.”
The mirth in Hotch’s eyes darkened into something you hadn’t seen before, and for a moment you were nervous that you had crossed a line. It felt like he was staring directly into your soul, searching for some answer that would determine his next move. 
“You are by far the most frustrating woman I have ever met.”
Woman.
Hotch thought of you as a woman, and that caused a bright grin to stretch across your lips.
“Well, you’re no ray of sunshine either, but I still like you.”
Hotch’s grasp on your wrist tightened slightly at the end of your sentence, and a look of surprise flashed across his face before his eyes returned to that darkened look you couldn’t decipher. 
“Is that so?”
His voice was low, but firm, and the sultriness of it nestled comfortably between your inner thighs. All you could do was subtly nod while staring up at him, watching as he leaned in meticulously and painfully slow.
“If I’m reading this wrong-”
“If you’re reading this wrong, you’re a terrible profiler.”
You weren’t one to wait for action, so before he could respond, you reached up to grab onto the back of Hotch’s neck and pulled him down to press your lips against his in a tentative kiss. At first he tensed up, but then you felt his body physically relax, and a soft hum sounded in your throat when he snaked his arm around your waist. Reluctantly pulling away, he gently brushed his nose against yours and whispered.
“So, I’ll see you in the office Monday?”
“Mm, no.”
Hotch pulled back so he could stare down at you in pure perplexity, and you grinned at his facial expression.
“No?”
“I’m suspended, remember? Three weeks, I think it was?”
Hotch’s lips formed into a thin line as he stared down at you, the amusement previously lingering in his eyes completely gone. You couldn’t help but laugh, lightly shoving him away from you with your palms against his chest.
“Hey, you decided my sentence.”
“You were being a brat-”
“And now this brat has a three week vacation. I’ve been meaning to take a trip anyway-”
“Actually, I haven’t filed any paperwork, so you’re not officially suspended, and you’re still a current employee. I’ll see you on Monday, Agent Y/L/N.”
The demanding tone of his voice made you bite down on your bottom lip, and you leaned back against your kitchen island while arching one of your brows in challenge and crossing your arms across your chest with a playful smirk on your lips.
“You don’t wanna see me before that, sir?”
The way you used his title clearly had an affect on him, and you suddenly realized that the emotion eclipsing his eyes was pure lust. He slowly reached his hand up to tug at the loose knot on his tie until it came undone around his neck completely, and he slowly approached you with a wolfish grin.
“Why do you think I’m here?”
tags: @mars-rants-a-lot @ninejlovebot @oscarisaacsleftknee
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luveline · 1 year
Text
𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫
You worry your boyfriend is ashamed of you. This is very much not the case. Or, 5 times Hotch hid your relationship (+1 time he didn’t).
7k words, new-ish established relationship, lots of fluff between angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, civilian!reader, reader calls him aaron mostly
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The security for Aaron's building is weird. Weird as in extensive, intimidating, and extremely intricate. 
You'd really wanted to minimise his stress — the whole reason you're here is to bring him a forgotten sheet of paper that must've slipped out at your kitchen table from one of his case files because you don't want him to have to make up a new copy — but you're too scared to go in. 
You pull your phone out reluctantly and dial in his number, eager to hear his voice even if the security detail a few feet away are freaking you out. 
"Hotchner." 
"Hi, handsome," you say softly. 
There's a small pause. For a split-second a nightmare situation runs through your head, his low voice asking, Who is this?
"Hi, honey." 
You beam so wide it aches, forcing a pleased little breath from your mouth. 
"What do you need?" he asks. 
"I'm outside of your building but I'm too afraid to come in. I'm not sure they'll let me. I need a badge, right?" 
"You're outside." 
You pick at the hem of your sweater, a loose thread marring your otherwise pretty outfit. You'll admit to dressing up unnecessarily to see him. Nice clothes, your most subtle perfume. 
"I found something confidential this morning, a piece of paper. I didn't read it, I promise."
"You really shouldn't be here," he says. 
Your smile abruptly drops. You press the phone closer to your face and wait, hoping he's not talking to you. When it's clear that he is you cringe, the silence pervasive and the most awkward it's ever been with him. 
"Sorry." Your apology is quick, quiet. "I thought it would be easier for you. I didn't mean to… overstep." 
"It's not that. It's busy. Would you hang on to it for me? Maybe I can come and get it tonight, bring dinner." 
You love how he says it. It's not a question, not an assumption. And it's a relief. If he wants to see you on a night where you hadn't planned to get together, he can't be mad at you for being here. 
"Yeah, please. If you want to." 
"I want to. Okay?"
Not for confirmation, it's shorthand. You okay? 
"Yeah. Okay. Have a good rest of your day, handsome." 
"Bye." 
You like to think you can hear the sound of his phone clicking shut, imagining him at his desk in one of his neat suits with a case file open in front of him. You're not sure on the specifics of his job but you know he looks good doing it, and you also know he's very, very busy. You don't take his clipped goodbye as anything but efficiency. 
Maybe you should. 
The next time Aaron inadvertently hurts your feelings is in person. 
Compared to him, you wouldn't say you're an incredibly exciting character. Your day job is tame, your hobbies are invaried. You like to watch TV, see movies, you enjoy people-watching. When you hold that stuff up to his job, his profiling, and his hobbies (seriously, who likes triathlon?) you feel rather immature. 
You know deep down that hobbies are hobbies and that your job doesn't define how special you are, but when you're with someone like Aaron who lives and breathes his profession it can play with your head. 
"Is there something interesting about my shirt?" he asks, a murmur under the sound of the TV. 
You look up from the hem of his nice button down and smile, a half-smile. You want it to be more genuine than it is. "Don't you already know?" 
"What do you mean?" 
"You can tell I'm…" You frown, dropping the starched material of his shirt from between your fingers. "I've given myself up, haven't I?" 
"A little," he concedes sympathetically. 
You huff your defeat and let your cheek fall into his chest. Nice to seek comfort from him, nicer for him to give it to you, his arm rising from behind your shoulders to hook around your neck. 
"I'm not profiling you," he says, voice close to the top of your head, "I'm wondering what you're thinking."
You relax under his touch, his big hand settling in the curve of your neck. A semi-hug. It doesn't take long for you to melt into his front completely, your unhappy thoughts dissolving with any tension and leaving only a want to kiss his stupidly nice neck.
"It doesn't matter," you say. 
"You sure?" 
You lift your head from his chest. He has to lean back to meet your eyes and he does it unflinchingly, a bemused smile playing on his lips. 
"I'm good. Better, if you would…" 
"Yeah?" he asks quietly, leaning down, down. 
You can't withstand his charms. He knows exactly how to get you, his smile and his eyes, his lashes kissing in the corners as they close. 
He's imposing in the best way, a heavy presence that overwhelms you. All you can think about is the way he nudges his nose with yours to encourage your head back and the heat of his lips as they touch your own. His arm tightens behind your head.
You try to rise onto your knees, hands vying for his neck and his pitch dark hair. You're doubly pleased when you feel his mouth turning up into a smile, a mirror of your own. 
"Slow down," he chides gently. 
You're about to say something unlike yourself, something loud and brash. Speed up, Hotchner. You're hopped up on the giddiness that comes with being close to him. You're just about to say it when his phone rings. 
He gives you a short, hard kiss. 
"Hotchner." 
You sit back in his lap, his hand sliding to the small of your back to keep you close as his face clouds with confusion. You attempt to climb off of him because you're not a sack of sugar — you're probably giving him numb thighs — but he won't let you.
"Garcia," he says eventually, "is this an emergency?" His tone makes it clear to you that whatever it is Garcia is saying, it's far from an emergency. 
His hand climbs up, over your shoulder. You shudder as he tugs your earlobe, a mild and thoughtless gesture. You're so busy shivering you almost miss his playful eye roll. 
"I haven't changed my mind. Yeah. Thanks for the invitation, but I'm perfectly happy where I am tonight." 
Whatever Garcia says makes him laugh. If you weren't sitting as close to him as you are you wouldn't have heard it. 
"Have fun. Bye," he says succinctly. He snaps his phone closed in one hand, the other dropping from your ear to your shoulder. It's heavy with a remorse you can't allow. "Sorry."
"Doesn't matter," you assure, tilting your head toward his hand and pretending to size him up. You don't know how to profile, but you're a good guess. 
"You're not telling me something." 
"No?" He blinks in surprise.
"No. You've been invited somewhere with your work friends, and you usually go. Why not tonight?" 
"I think that's obvious." 
"You don't have to flake on your friends for me, Aaron." 
He smiles as you say his name. "Like I told Garcia, I am perfectly happy where I am." 
You hide your face in his neck lest he see your doped up smile. "You have nice friends," you murmur, working your hands under the hem of his shirt. 
"I think you'd love Garcia after the infinitial terror." 
"I think I would too. She's good to you, after all. Makes me like her… Maybe one day we can all go out for drinks." 
You don't have to be a profiler to feel the way he tenses. 
"Yeah," he says. It sounds very much like Probably not. 
That's a strumming hurt. Aaron is so nice, so so nice, and he treats you like you're gold dust. He does all the movie boyfriend stuff like flowers, silver earrings on your birthday (with tiny diamonds!), dinner reservations at dauntingly fancy restaurants. And he does stuff you didn't know men did, like calling you near every night to make sure you had a good day, and praising even your smallest achievements, and leaving notes in places he knows you'll find them on hard days. You don't know how he knows when days are hard, he just does. 
You'd figured all of this stuff meant he must really like you, might even love you though he's yet to say it, and that's why his lack of enthusiasm stings. 
Why doesn't he want you to meet his friends? He's obviously very proud of what they do at the BAU. They're not the issue. 
It's you. 
You cuddle him as a pit forms in your chest. 
"You're tired?" he asks.
Funny how it's his comfort you crave when he's the one who's hurt your feelings. You're a little lopsided being upset with him, and you know if you tell him how you feel he'll try to make it up to you, but you're too afraid of the other alternative — a fight. Right now his arms are a sanctity you wouldn't trade for anything. You hope he feels the same. 
You're not sure anymore. 
"Yeah," you say roughly. 
Your eyes burn as he pats your back. "Let's go to bed, honey." 
You'll just… have to prove you're someone worth showing off. 
Your plan, loosely titled 'Get Aaron Hotchner to Show Me Off,' is going about as well as you'd thought it would. 
If Aaron doesn't want me to meet his friends there must be a reason. You've been thinking about it and it can't be a coincidence that he hadn't wanted you to return his paperwork a few weeks ago. That must've been something significant. 
But what? 
You start with your hair. Aaron has expressed a lovely and heaping handful of times that he thinks you have pretty hair. He plays with it often, usually when he's limp and tired from a long day. You've always taken care of it. Now you're going to the extreme — hair masks, hair appointments you can't afford, anything to make it look perfect. 
It doesn't work toward the plan, though your boyfriend certainly notices. 
"Your hair," is the very first thing he says when he sees you, stopping only in his smiling assessment to kiss your cheek in greeting. 
"Is it okay?" you ask, turning your face to one side. 
"More than okay. Do you want to go in?" 
So it's kind of a bust. But that's okay, you weren't expecting to get a haircut and magically be invited to team dinners. You persevere, and eventually you forget the plan for the night when Aaron promises to show you how much he likes your new look with a hand at the small of your back. 
Phase two, your clothes. 
You dress as nicely as you can but you're no fashion guru and you can't afford an entirely new wardrobe. You get a bunch of magazines and look for fall staples. What's in this year, and how do you style it? You buy a couple of pieces that fit your budget and try to work around them. 
Aaron's favourite are the new corduroy pants. They aren't a great fit. 
"They're too tight," you lament, pulling the fabric from your thighs where they hug snugly. They're a desaturated sort of burgundy, not bright by any means but a good 'pop of colour'. 
"I know," he says. 
You gawp at him, and when he gets his fingers on the buttons afterward, you break. 
"You like them?" you ask worriedly. 
"What makes you think I don't?" 
"Besides how eager you are to get them off of me?" 
He hooks two fingers in your belt loops and holds your gaze as he tugs them down. "I like them." 
A good time, but still no dice. You suppose a new look, besides looking smarter, doesn't actually prove your merit as a girlfriend. Maybe he wants something a little more concrete before he introduces you to people. Maybe things aren't as good for him as they are for you, and he doesn't see the point. 
That particular thought sparks a wave of panicked tears. 
The next time you see him, it's like he can tell. You wonder if he has x-ray vision, some sixth sense for tear stains that he has yet to tell you about. He's been gone for a few days in St. Louis, and when he'd come back he'd spent the weekend with Jack, so it's a whole seven days since the last time you saw him and your worries have festered. Not even his doting phone calls had kept the thought at bay. 
Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 
You open your door and there he is in a quarter zip with an overnight bag, matte suit cover draped over one arm. 
"Hi," you say, unsure. 
"Did I get uglier while I was away?" he asks seriously. 
You startle. "No, of course not." 
He smiles and meets you in the doorway, your head dipping back to accommodate. "I think I've had it too good," he says lightly, bringing a tentative hand to your cheek. "Are you okay?" 
You're trying to work out what he means, and when you do your heart skips. "Handsome!" you say urgently. "Hi, handsome. No, you didn't get uglier, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, and-" 
He kisses you. It's malaligned because of your parted lips, but it's good. You'd really missed him. 
"You're definitely still handsome," you murmur. 
"Doesn't count. I begged for it-" 
"No!" you deny, lifting on tiptoes to give him another kiss and stop his slander. "It does count because you're always handsome, I promise. I think I slept too much and miswired my brain when I woke up." 
"I don't mind that you didn't call me handsome," he says firmly, "now let me in. We have dinner to make." 
"Right, sorry."
Aaron frowns at you, then. It's weird. He frowns at his phone, at the TV, at nothing, but he doesn't frown at you. 
"Is something wrong?" he asks as you traverse down the hall. You hold your hands out for his suit and bag to take to your room and hang up, ignoring his question. He doesn't give them to you. "Is there?" 
"No." You smile as you say it. 
You're an awful liar, especially with him. He makes you more nervous than anyone because he's your boyfriend and because he's a literal human lie detector. 
"You didn't even try." 
You cover your face with both hands and groan dramatically, spinning around and away from him. You don't want him to see how flustered you are. 
"Don't make fun," you beg. 
"You're embarrassed." 
"Teach you that at the Bureau, do they?"  
You stop in the doorway of the kitchen, distracted by your own racing thoughts when suddenly there are two long arms needling around your waist and pulling you backward. You gasp a laugh and squirm uselessly to escape. 
"I'm sorry," he says quietly. 
You tip your head back, hands falling from your face in surprise. "What for, handsome?" 
His laugh fans out over your face but when he speaks again there's no humour there, only sincerity, "For being gone so long." 
"Well don't be. You can't exactly help it, Agent Hotchner," you hum. 
"Oh, don't." 
"Going out and saving the world takes time. I knew that when I met you, 'n I know it now. You don't have to say sorry." 
"I'm not apologising for my work. I'm apologising that we've," — his nose presses into the highest point of your cheek — "been apart." 
"I did miss you," you relent. 
He presses his lips to your cheek. "I missed you too." 
It's a nice distraction. You'd missed one another, and now you're together. You forget for a while what you'd worried, and only when he leaves again do you remember. 
Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 
You're not stupid enough to think Hotch is using you for anything, or that he's insincere. You're level-headed, though. His affection for you isn't necessarily permanent no matter how genuine. 
You don't want to be overbearing. The offers start slow. 
I can wash that for you. Of course I'm sure, I'm great with whites. 
Maybe I could make you lunch tomorrow. You can take it in, spare yourself the federal cafeteria. 
Yeah, I got them shined for you. They were looking a little dull at the toes. 
"Do you want me to press these?" you ask. 
Aaron looks up from where he's sitting in bed. You'd been out on a foray to the bathroom and have come to a stop by his bedroom door where a pair of black slacks hang in wait for the morning. 
He pushes a darling pair of reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No." 
"Are you sure? It won't take five minutes." 
"I'll do it in the morning." 
"I can do it for you, then. Just wake me up," you say, pushing back the sheets on the empty side of his bed. Your socked foot bumps his thigh as you pull up your legs. "What are you reading?" 
He puts his book on the nightstand, takes off his glasses. It's too bad. He really suits them.
"I want to talk to you about something." 
You laugh and slide down onto the flat of your back. 
"What?" he asks, confused, the tiniest hint of amusement in his eyes. 
"It's unlike you to start that way. You always cut around the fat." You bring his bed sheets up to your nose and squint at him. "'M I in trouble?" 
"Depends." 
"On what?" 
"You know I care about you." 
Your heart somersaults. That feels very much like a break-up opener, and he must see your anxiety on your face. He wrangles your hand from under the sheets and leans over you, his face in your eyeline, his fingers massaging yours until they ache in the good way. 
"Do you know how much?" he asks. 
"Is that a trick?" 
"No." 
You wait in case there's something he's going to add. When there's nothing, you pull the sheets to your chin and tamp down your perplexed pouting. 
"Yeah, I know how much." 
"I'd like to tell you how much." He pulls your joined hands toward his jaw. "I know I'm not always here, but I'm always thinking of you. In roundabout ways." 
"What ways?" you ask. Self-indulgence.
Aaron Hotchner indulges you. 
"I see," — he kisses your hand — "trees. I've seen a thousand trees, but when I see the bigger ones I wish you could see them too." 
It's a dropping sensation, near uncomfortable, that's how gutted his confession makes you feel. "You do?" 
"Sometimes women walk past me and I swear that it's you because they smell like your perfume. Flowers growing through cracks in the sidewalk. Lights through the jet window." It's the kind of stuff you like to point out to him when you're together. 
He stares at you, a long, reassuring look. 
He deserves a better reply, but all you can say is, "I think of you all the time, too." 
"I love that you want to take care of me, but you don't need to wear yourself out." 
You bite the inside of your bottom lip. So that's what this is about. Aaron has profiled you, and now he's being the gentleman that he is and assuaging your fears. 
"I'm not," you say quickly. 
He understands that you're saying I'm not wearing myself out rather than I'm not taking care of you. You are taking care of him, the best that you can, the best that he'll allow. 
"I can press my own pants," he says, leaning down for a kiss. "I can shine my own shoes." He kisses you again. You screw your eyes closed as the warmth of his breath heats your cupid's bow. "I can do my own laundry." He pulls back, dropping your hand in favour of your neck. His thumb pushes against your windpipe gently, palm hot over your skin. "I'll accept the lunches, if you're sure you don't mind making them." 
You feel as excited as you did the very first time he touched you, chest full of a dizzying pleasure, heart bump-bump-bumping a racing rhythm. His thumb strokes a lazy quarter circle into your neck. He can probably feel your pulse, see the way your eyes have blown. 
"I love making them," you say, breathless in earnest.
"The team think I'm spoiled." 
"You aren't spoiled." You're adored, you want to say. You cup his cheek instead. "You'd be spoiled if I brought them by everyday." 
Aaron doesn't stay with you and you don't stay with him enough to make him lunch everyday. He might get one or two a week, and that's when he's home. 
"Wouldn't that be nice," he mutters, his fingers pushing between your neck and the pillow underneath. 
You hike up on to your elbows slowly to avoid headbutting him. "Well, I could." 
His easy, loving smile flattens. "No." 
"I wouldn't mind. My lunch break is super long and it only takes me ten minutes to get there. We could have lunch together." 
"That's not going to work." 
"Okay." You wish you could take it as calmly as he says it. You sound choked up. You are choked up. 
"Sweetheart, the office is a war zone. Half the time I'm not there." 
"I get it," you say, dropping flat onto your back again. 
"Sweetheart." 
"Handsome," you mirror, putting on your best unaffected smile. 
You can't hold it very long, his concerned brows too much to deal with. You turn your head to the left and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, throwing at least half of your expression into darkness. 
Aaron doesn't give up. Does he ever? He cups your cheek and pulls you back to face him. 
"I can't promise any lunch dates. But I was thinking we'd go out for dinner next week, Friday," he begins hopefully, "somewhere nice." 
It feels like an apology and you're desperate to take it. 
"I don't need somewhere nice, s'long as you're there 'n not in Kansas, or Colorado, or Idaho, or New Jersey-" 
He hums and drops his head until his nose lies against your own. "Gonna go through all fifty?" 
"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Hotchner?" 
"I love your voice," he says agreeably. 
Disarmed, you let him charm you, and you let him push it all out of your mind. Plan foiled, your fears fall on the backburner for a third time. 
His fourth rejection is the first that feels entirely intentional, though you won't know until later. 
Mostly because Aaron pushes you. 
Far from cruel, the two of you are actually out walking in the city when he forces you into an alleyway, your fancy drink sloshing down the front of your sweater. 
You laugh in surprise and almost roll your ankle, hands clinging to his coat to stop an unfortunate fall. 
"Holy shit, Hotchner, learn to be a gentleman," you say as he presses up against you. "What are you doing? I'm soaked, you're gonna ruin your sleeves." 
He kisses you hard. It's a surprise, your head jumping back against the wall to find his hand already there to protect it. 
It's worth noting that Aaron is a sweetheart in practically every aspect of life. He once apologised after having walked in on you changing, which is ridiculous because most of the nights where you're together he insists on getting you some sort of undressed (even if it's just to help you into your pyjamas).
Needless to say, he's never kissed you like this. Your emotions spike so suddenly you laugh into his mouth, a girlish peel of giggles that you'll regret afterward but can't stop for the life of you. 
He shushes you. "Sorry," he whispers, as ill-composed as you've ever heard him. "Sorry, just-" He cuts you both off with another bruising kiss. 
Your laughter fades into sighs and little gasps for air. Somewhere near the alleyway opening a group of people pass by, a jovial series of cheers and friendly laughter trailing behind them. Aaron presses you further into the wall behind, and slowly, slowly winds down. Weirdly, you think his last couple of pecks feel sorry, softer and sweeter. 
Your lips buzz. 
"Why'd you buy me that fancy drink if you were gonna tip it all over me?" you ask good-naturedly when he finally pulls back. 
"You looked too nice today." His deadpan voice wars with the smile on his face. "I'm sorry. We'll go find you something to change into." 
"Was it really that important that you kiss me right then?" you ask, feigning disdain. 
He looks out toward the main street again. "Yes. Where do you want to go? There's a Nordstrom." 
You take a sip of your drink, unsurprised when he takes your hand and starts to lead you toward the department stores. "Have you ever been inside of a Nordstrom?" 
"I'm sure I'll figure it out."
— 
The fifth time is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Or the brick. It feels heavier than a strand of straw. It's technically already come to pass, so it's an invisible brick. 
You're out for coffee by yourself which really means you're out for something sweet, bundled up in a coat and scarf to fight the night-time chill. 
"Thank you," you tell the barista, accepting your drink and receipt with a smile. 
You turn around and almost walk straight into a pretty dark-haired woman with really nice hair. You make a note to tell Aaron about it when you see him next, not because he'll care but because he likes to hear what you've been thinking about. And right now, all you can think about is her feathered bangs. 
I want nice bangs, you think offhandedly. 
"I'm sorry," you say, trying to move around her. 
She steps into your path. 
"Sorry," you say again. 
She's squinting at you, thin eyebrows peeking out from behind her hair. "Sorry, have we met?" she asks. 
You try not to be too hasty, but you're not sure you've ever seen her. You stare at her as she stares at you, and you get a tiny inkling of familiarity, but it's gone as quick as it comes. 
"I'm really sorry, I don't think so," you murmur, tilting your head to one side. 
She bites her lip, let's it go. "Oh!" she says excitedly, voice bright with triumph. "Oh oh oh! I know who you are, you're Hotch's mysterious girlfriend!" 
Your smile turns quizzical. You know nearly everybody calls Aaron 'Hotch'. Whenever you try it he either gives you the silent treatment or covers your mouth with his hand. 
"I'm Emily Prentiss, I work in the BAU," she explains rapidly, shoving her purse under her hand to offer it for a handshake. 
You do the same and shake her hand. Introducing yourself feels awkward. She knows you. You don't have a clue who she is. Only- 
"Oh, I know who you are now, I'm sorry I didn't recognise you before!" you say contritely. "I've seen photos of you and the team together. It's really nice to meet you." 
She nods. "It's nice to meet you too. I have to say, we've been dying to meet you. We even have a betting pool on what you're like, because Hotch barely says a thing about you." 
You try not to look as devastated as you feel, re-wrapping your fingers around your cup. "No?" 
"We didn't even know what you looked like until we saw you the other day. We came looking to say hi and you'd disappeared." 
You lick your dry lips. "The other day?" 
"Yeah, last Friday. We were out for impromptu drinks, celebrating a case. You know, you should come with sometime. It would be fun." 
Emily talks each word with an undertone of good humour. She's stunning, bubbly, and her hair flows around her face with every movement. 
"He really doesn't talk about me?" 
Emily drops into girl code niceties, backtracking. "I mean, not too often. We catch him smiling at his phone and hear your voice sometimes when you call. He seems happy. Well, happy as Hotch can seem." She swallows. "He's a private creature."
He doesn't talk about me. 
You pretend to check your watch. 
"It was really good to meet you," you say, voice airy with a feigned nonchalance. 
"Yeah, of course. Super nice," Emily says. 
You smile at her. It's more like a grimace. By the time you're outside of the coffee shop you're too upset to care, a humiliated shock of tears brewing behind your achy eyes. 
You hold your cup to your chest and unzip your purse to tuck the receipt inside, trying to maintain some control. There's a folded note inside, thick cardstock quartered. 
You take it out. Your fingers tremble with offended adrenaline. 
You're beautiful. 
Short, sweet, extremely Aaron Hotchner. Too bad you can't believe it. 
Emily Prentiss being out and about means the BAU are done for the night, though whether your workaholic boyfriend got the memo is anyone's best guess. You're not sure if it's better or worse if he's in work when you call. You're so upset that you can't help yourself. 
"Hi, honey." 
"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" you ask, staving off tears with all your willpower. 
"I wouldn't write it if I didn't mean it. That one took you a while to find, I was-" 
"Are you sure?" 
"...Are you okay?" 
You glare up at the dark sky rather than answer, blinking hard to force down your tears. You really don't wanna cry, but it's been a bad day and meeting Emily has made it worse. No matter how hard you try to think otherwise, all signs point to Aaron being ashamed of you. Embarrassed to be with you. He's hiding your relationship from everybody. 
"Am I- Is it my clothes? My job?" 
"What's wrong with your clothes?" 
"You tell me, detective." 
You're getting angry. He's- he's lying, or he's messing with you. He's making fun of you. At least that's how it feels. 
"Where are you right now?" he asks. You can picture him shrugging on his suit jacket, putting his files in order to come and meet you. 
You don't want to see him. "I'm at the coffee shop by your apartment. I actually ran into somebody, and I'm feeling very well-informed." A first tear bumps down your cheek. You ignore it. 
"I don't understand." 
"I don't understand! What am I doing wrong?" You bite your tongue in last ditch efforts to remain intact, but the tears won't hold off any longer. You swallow a sob. "What's wrong with me?" 
"Nothing. Nothing, honey, nothing is wrong with you." 
You wipe your wet face with mean hands. 
"Stay where you are. I'll come and meet you." 
"No. I don't wanna see you." 
"Honey-" 
"Leave me alone, Aaron." 
You hang up. You walk for a while, feeling as though steam is rising off of your flushed skin with every clumsy step. It had been a short phone call and already you can't remember what you said, all you can feel is angry, and then that runs out and all you can do is cry. 
You've never felt incredibly attractive. Aaron makes you feel better than that — he has the uncanny ability to inspire self-confidence with a loaded look alone. He can smile at you and your skin feels like it's glowing. 
So why doesn't that translate? If he thinks you're so pretty, why does he insist on hiding you away?
Because that day, he'd seen his friends. He could've introduced you but he took you down the alley and kissed you so you wouldn't be seen. That's not too busy: That's secretive. 
That kiss. You fooled yourself into thinking you must've looked irresistible. Fuck. You went home that night thinking you were the best thing since sliced bread. 
"I'm so stupid," you mutter, sniffling. 
Your self deprecation is muffled by the sound of a slowing car. You don't look up. There are two possibilities for who it is, and you don't want to deal with either. 
The car parks and then you do look up. Despite how mad you are you're not suicidal, and Aaron's given you extensive coaching on sex trafficking. 
It's him. Shocker. 
You're half-expecting him to reprimand you. You didn't look up until I parked. You know it takes five seconds to snatch and incapacitate someone? 
He looks haphazardly put together. Suit jacket on but tie loosened, he rounds the hood of his car and joins you on the sidewalk. You don't want to play games with him. He really doesn't need it, he didn't sign up for it, and drama isn't your style, but you're sick of this. 
"You want to tell me what you're thinking?" he asks, standing an amicable two feet away, hands at his hips.
"I'm really mad." 
"What else?" 
"I'm thinking," you say, looking down at your cold hands, "that you… That you're…" You rub your cheek into your shoulder to hide a fresh tear. "I don't know, Aaron. I'm thinking lots of things." 
"Do you want to think about them in the car?" he asks. 
Do you want to talk about it?
You don't want to talk about it. You don't like crying in front of him on a good day. 
You're pretty sure he'll combust on the spot if he knows you're walking home alone in the dark and distracted. 
You get in the car. He has the good sense not to touch your shoulders like he normally would. 
You buckle as soon as you've closed the passenger side door. "I'm sorry," you mumble, looking down at your knees. 
"Let's forget that, for now." He turns the key but doesn't pull out. "Tell me what's upset you and I'll explain." 
"I met Emily Prentiss." 
He looks at you out of the corner of his eye.
"She told me that you don't talk about me. Ever. That they didn't even know what I looked like." 
You know he's listening but he keeps his eyes on the road, and you chance a look at the side of his face. He doesn't seem mad. 
"I don't talk about you often," he says. "But that doesn't mean never… It's true that they didn't know what you look like." 
"Until last week, when they saw us together and you pulled me into an alley so they couldn't see me." 
"Yes." 
Your lower lip trembles. "Do you see why that would upset me?" You're asking genuinely. 
"Yeah, honey." 
Your head jolts up. He's diverting his gaze from the road to you intermittently, offering up a regretful grimace. The oncoming headlights splash over his work worn face. 
"Then why are you doing this? What's so wrong with me that you won't even admit we're together?" 
"Nothing is wrong with you. I'm not ashamed of you," he says firmly, volume rising. 
"Then why?" 
His eyebrows pull together. "You're the best person I've ever met that isn't my son, and I selfishly don't want to share you yet. I also don't want to scare you off." 
You pull your sleeves over your hands and turn in your seat, wiping your damp cheeks as he continues. 
"My job is hard, and it's dangerous. It has jeopardised the safety and wellbeing of people I love before. So no, I'm not eager to introduce you to my world. The more intertwined with my life that you become, the more danger I put you in, and…" The car slows down again. He turns to look at you. "And I like that I'm the only one who knows you like this.
"I have been hiding you. I have. But it was a," — his tone turns wry — "misguided attempt at keeping you all to myself. Safe, and to myself." 
You're finding it difficult to be mad with him. 
He's finding it difficult to maintain his poker face. A fat tear rolls down your cheek and you're not sure what it's made of, fatigue or relief or plain hurt, whatever it is he doesn't like it. He pulls over. 
You hold still as he pinches the tear off of your chin. 
"How long have you felt like this?" 
"Like what?" you ask wetly. 
"Like this." He opens his hand against your cheek. It encompasses your face; you lean in, hungry for reassurance. 
"I don't know." 
"This is why you changed your hair. Your clothes. And started making my lunch." 
You cover his hand with your own. "I actually really like making your lunches." 
You stare at each other until suddenly you're laughing, sniffly, short of breath. Aaron joins in soon after. He always sounds so surprised to be laughing.
"I'm glad," he says when your laughter has abated, pinky and ring finger caressing down the slope of your cheek. "I really like having them. Rossi can't hide how jealous he is." 
"They know about the lunches?" 
His mindless petting pauses. "They know about the lunches. You're not a secret. I'm… selfish with the details. I'm selfish." Aaron takes back his hand. "I'm sorry." 
You take as deep a breath as you can. "Okay." 
"Yeah?" 
"Mm. Can we go home?" 
His eyebrows jump and swiftly smooth again. "Yeah, we can go home." He chucks your chin and gets the car moving again. 
You watch him drive. 
When you get home, he doesn't mind reassuring you some more. Actually, it's like he needs to do it. You'd love to say that it's overkill and that his low murmurings of praise are unnecessary, but you can't. 
"You're lovely," he says seriously across two plates of pasta. Again through the mirror when you're brushing your teeth, and again when you've curled into his chest for the night. You're lovely. Nothing that needs hiding. 
You hear him on the phone early in the morning, half asleep. 
"Hey, Dave. Yeah. Okay. Uh… No, that's fine." He laughs under his breath. "Yeah, if she was awake I'd ask her to make you one. I think she would… Okay. See you in forty." 
You bury your tired face into his pillows and beam. 
+1 
Aaron's office is terrifyingly hectic. You can see already that the bullpen is full to bursting with agents, including but not limited to his special team of profilers. There's the distinct smell of coffee, sharp and burning, and then the underlay of printer ink, new paper. 
You can't believe you're here. 
You're not brave enough to introduce yourself to his team, and half aren't at their desks anyways. You hover in the doorway until somebody needs to get past you, taking a reluctant step inside.
You shouldn't wait for Aaron. You should be brave. You're a grown up, and you're bringing your grown up partner his very grown up lunch. You'd wanted desperately to do this. The least that you can do is do it by yourself. 
You've scrapped most of the fall staples but kept the burgundy pants Aaron likes so much at his request. They feel insanely tight on your thighs, as does your collar. In fact, the room has definitely shrunk since you got here. 
Like an idiot, Aaron says your name loud and clear, standing with a hand on the railings at the top of the instep. You hadn't even noticed him emerging from his office.
His voice demands — commands — attention. People turn in their seats, first toward him, and then toward you. 
All eyes on me. 
You don't run but you don't walk either, weaving through desk chairs and people looking a mix of busy and curious.
"You're being cruel," you say as you approach him, a brown paper bag held close to your abdomen. 
"Hi, honey," he says. He wears a knowing smile, all dark and tall and handsome as he starts down the stairs to meet you. 
"Don't punish me." 
"Is that what you'd call this?" he asks, hand quick to clasp your shoulder, glueing you in place so he can kiss your forehead.
And yes, this is what you'd wanted. The doting boyfriend not just at home but at work, too.
That doesn't mean it isn't really, really embarrassing. 
"Is everyone looking at me?" you murmur. 
He slips his arm behind your shoulders to walk you up the stairs. "Yes." His voice drops lower. "At one place specifically, I imagine." 
"What part is that, Agent?" 
He laughs and opens his office door to beckon you inside. "Don't start." 
༺༻
my first hotch fic omg. i did a big character study beforehand but i doubt it's entirely in character, hotch is a difficult character to write for! (and im only at season 4). but this was so fun and he's hot so it's worth it. if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging! i promise it makes a difference to me (and also i love seeing what people thought). thank you for reading!! ♥
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canuck-eh · 9 months
Text
Loose Morals
MINORS DNI
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Younger!Fem!Reader (college student)
Summary: You and Jack have been friends for two years when you start having hot dreams featuring his father. Unfortunately, Mr. Hotchner happens to be just your type...
Tags: age gap, daddy issues, migraines, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, implied daddy kink, daddy kink if you squint, praise kink, Jack isn't necessarily a good friend, trauma bonding in a way, masturbation, smut, fluff, etc.
Word count: 11.2k
A/N: I wanted to take a break from editing Vanilla Twilight by writing a short one-shot. The thing is, I don't know when to shut up... Anyway, this ask and this pic inspired me, and I opted to write an entire fic around them. I just really needed to write smut after all the fluff and angst these past few times. I hope you like this one!
Being Jack Hotchner's best friend had its perks.
For one, he was honest and kind, and he was simply different than the rest of the guys your age. 
Honesty had always been at the core of your friendship, through your first two years of college, you’d not only found a friend in him, but a brother. 
You weren’t sure he saw you as his sister, but you didn’t care. He was still your family. 
You were the first person he came out to, and he was the first person to whom you had admitted you had major daddy issues (which you still believed had been caused by not having a father around growing up). 
Considering your mother had punched out when you turned 18, Jack was without a doubt the most important person in your life even if you weren’t the most important person in his life. 
But being Jack’s best friend was sometimes a curse.
A sharply dressed, tall, and broad man disguised as a curse, that is. 
Jack had an incredibly handsome dad, and to make matters worse, Mr. Hotchner was exactly the type you went for when you needed company.  
Jack knew you had slept around with older men, he knew what your type looked like, yet he had never once mentioned his dad fit that pattern to a T. 
Of course, you knew Mr. Hotchner was off-limits. You’d never try anything, you’d never do anything to jeopardize your friendship with Jack. But you couldn’t help how your eyes lingered on Mr. Hotchner sometimes, and it didn’t hurt anyone to just look. 
You could control yourself, but forbidden things always had an extra appeal to them, didn’t they? 
It was why, very early on in your friendship, you had reached an unspoken agreement with yourself: You would never spend the night at Jack’s house and you would avoid being alone with Mr. Hotchner at all costs. Thus, when party season was in full effect, you never drank to make sure you could drive yourself home after dropping Jack off. 
Ironically enough, Jack loved having you around even more during that time because since you didn’t drink when you went partying, you could always be the designated driver. 
Tonight had been no different in that regard, but a recent breakup had made Jack miserable and he had ended up drinking way more than usual.
Bringing him home was something you were happy to do, and each time you did, Mr. Hotchner thanked you profusely for bringing Jack home safe.
Each time, you tried not to make a fool of yourself, and you smiled and left without adding anything. 
Truth was, even tired beyond words, Mr. Hotchner was extremely handsome. He was so effortlessly beautiful that you didn't trust yourself not to say something incredibly stupid to his face, and thus you actively chose not to talk to him alone when you could avoid it. 
Sure, you could engage in small talk when Jack was awake and responsive, but when he was nearly passed out drunk, you did your best to avoid Mr. Hotchner.
There was something about the way his eyes bore into you that you couldn’t deny you liked, but you often explained it away by reminding yourself that Mr. Hotchner looked at everyone like that, with intense fixed gazes that could remind you of every wrongdoing you had ever committed.
Nothing you had tried had ever stopped you from blushing when you felt his eyes on you, and your high-pitched nervous laugh was only deafened by you chewing your cheeks furiously each time Mr. Hotchner said something nice to you.
You were positive Mr. Hotchner already thought you were a nutcase, or at the very least, that you were too shy and awkward to function properly when you were around him. 
So, whenever you could, you avoided him out of self-preservation. 
You had had to start evading him more in the past weeks when recurring sex dreams featuring him had started invading your nights. 
It didn’t help that you were convinced that he was a sex god walking on two delightfully long legs. It didn’t help that you were sure that he had two muscly thighs that surely showed how he ran every other morning. 
You had seen Mr. Hotchner sweaty and breathless only once, with his chest heaving big breaths that drew your attention to how deliciously large he was, and you had risked a glance at his whole body, licking your lips at the sight of his hairy legs, instantly concluding that coming over to study before noon wasn’t going to happen again for the sake of your sanity. 
From that day, you had started having torrid dreams about grinding down on his damp thighs, dreams which had startled you awake and kept you on the verge of climaxing. Each time, you had woken up too worked up to care, and you had brought yourself to orgasm with only a few flicks on your clit before you screamed his name into your pillow. 
It wasn’t right, but it was the only thing that did it. You had tried thinking of other things, you had even tried watching porn, but nothing worked except thoughts of Jack’s dad. 
While it was great to be living alone because it meant that whenever the urge was too strong, you could get yourself off, it also meant that you had absolutely no control or restraint since nothing satisfied your incessant hunger for him, since nothing could scratch that particular itch… 
You had managed to break two magic wands in the past three months, so you never stayed home too long when you had nothing to do, too afraid you’d turn into a sex addict.  
But then there were the other dreams you were having, dreams way scarier than having Mr. Hotchner get you off. 
Those dreams, dreams in which you shared a whole life with Mr. Hotchner, were your favorite. Yet, they were also heartbreaking because once realization hit you, once your mind was clear enough, you knew it would never happen, that it could never happen, and that hurt you a little more every time.
You had had so many dreams in which domesticity was the norm, in which you danced around the kitchen to great tunes while cooking together, in which his arms wrapped around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder, as he hummed and squeezed you into a tight embrace, as he turned you around to kiss your forehead before he told you how much he loved you.
Your longing for him had only intensified in the past weeks as vivid fantasies muddled your mind, and you had had to escape any situation where you would find yourself talking to Mr. Hotchner even when Jack was around just to make sure Mr. Hotchner wouldn’t suddenly realize that every waking thought you had included him. 
Mr. Hotchner probably knew most of the signs of attraction. Having been a profiler for the greater part of his life before he got a steady desk job meant that he was talented at observing, and you knew for a fact that he was brilliant and astute. You often chose not to dwell on those facts, instead, you averted your gaze so he wouldn’t read behind your eyes, so he wouldn’t magically deduce how detailed your imagination could be, as if he could know from a quick glance how you had envisioned him around you in every possible position and scenario. 
You focused on Jack in the backseat, his blond hair ruffled by the wind coming in through the cracked window. The car smelled like alcohol and bad decisions, and your heart dropped in your chest when you noticed Jack shaking, hearing choked sobs every few seconds. 
Fortunately, while you attempted to find the right words, he slumped and grew quiet. 
The way it usually went when you brought him home was, you got Jack inside with your spare key, you dropped him on his bed upstairs before you left without making a sound.
But Jack was way drunker than usual, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to make him walk up the stairs by yourself. He was in no state to get himself up the stairs either. 
You tried to talk to him to gauge if you could shake him awake just enough to get him up the stairs once you reached his house, but he just muttered strings of syllables.  
The closer you got to his house, the more you realized you’d need help bringing Jack upstairs. 
He was still mumbling things that made no sense, and you admired how the car ride didn’t make him throw up because he made no effort to hold up his head as he slouched in the back seat. 
You chastised yourself for not asking someone to tag along to help you with Jack because now you would have only one option, and you weren’t sure you wanted to wake him. 
It didn’t matter what you wanted, though. Jack was your family. You’d do anything for him.
Reluctantly, you asked Siri to call Mr. Hotchner.
He picked up on the first ring and you were relieved that perhaps you hadn’t woken him up by calling at this hour. 
“Hi, sweetheart. Is Jack okay?” he muttered sleepily. 
Shit. Maybe you had woken him. 
Mr. Hotchner often called you ‘sweetheart’ but at this time of night with a husky voice? If this wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever heard… 
You berated yourself for being distracted, intently focusing on the road and what needed to be done.
“Hello, Mr. Hotchner. Yes, he is. He’s just too drunk for me to bring him upstairs. Can you come down and help?” you asked, keeping your voice as even as you could.
“Of course. ETA?”
You looked around as you put on the turn signal. “I’m turning on your street.”
“Good. Thank you.”
You hung up just in time to park, getting out of the car swiftly to try to bring a clingy Jack out of the backseat.
Mr. Hotchner joined you before you even noticed he was outside, and a hand on your shoulder made you move back from trying to pick up Jack. 
“I got him. Just help me when we get to the stairs, okay?”
You nodded. 
It was all you could do because the sight of Mr. Hotchner in pajama pants and a tee shirt was apparently enough to bring your cerebral functions to a halt. 
You were unable to comprehend how his hand had even ended up on you and how you could still feel the imprint of his palm on your skin.
Mr. Hotchner grunted from the effort it took to pick up his son, and you did your best not to memorize the sound for later use. 
You shut the car door and followed him inside, taking some of Jack’s weight off Mr. Hotchner’s shoulders as you both brought him up the stairs and into his room. 
You removed Jack’s shoes as Mr. Hotchner brought the covers over his son’s frame, and you tried not to think about the fact that you made a great team to get Jack into bed so efficiently. 
Mr. Hotchner placed a gentle hand on Jack’s shoulder, smiling a little at how unresponsive he was. 
Clearly, he found the situation relatable and you wondered if Mr. Hotchner had ever been this drunk when he was Jack’s age.
You found it endearing to see how a good father could be so loving to his grown-up son, and even if it hurt that you had never gotten that, you still loved seeing it when it happened. 
“Goodnight, bud.”
You didn’t want to intrude so you made your way out of the room just in time for Jack to mutter under his breath something that made you flinch and stop in your tracks. “I fucking hate you, Dad. It’s your fault Mom isn’t here.”
The room was dark, but the silver sheen of the moon glimmered enough that you could make out most of his frozen features. You saw Mr. Hotchner recoil and you heard his breath hitch. 
It was fair to assume his face had probably contorted into a deep frown as you witnessed his arm going up, his palm meeting his forehead. 
You knew the story. But you also knew Jack didn’t blame him. He never had. He had always said his father was his hero. You had heard him ramble on and on about how proud he was, and he had almost given you a formal presentation to celebrate him and every achievement of his. Every time he spoke about his dad, his eyes sparkled with joy, and getting to know more about how extraordinary Mr. Hotchner was had never helped lessen your deep-seated infatuation with him. If anything, it only magnified it.
So why was Jack saying this now when his dad had always been his role model?
Had he been lying to you this whole time?
You debated saying something, but in the end, you and Jack constantly called each other out on your bullshit or whenever you were out of line, and this time, he was clearly out of line. 
For all Mr. Hotchner’s faults, you knew he was loving and present, and Jack shouldn’t take that for granted. You certainly wouldn’t.
“Jack, what the fuck?” you snapped. You clenched your jaw to abstain from scolding him, it wasn’t your place, but you wanted to bark at him to apologize. 
The cold glow shone and lit the room just enough, making it easy to see how Mr. Hotchner’s shoulders dropped, and the silent shock that plagued the room made his bleak expression all the more distressing. Luckily, before you could question your next move, he turned his back so you couldn’t scrutinize how pain stained his gaze. 
Jack turned towards you, baring his teeth. His glassy eyes and his jutting chin betrayed a rooted but still gaping wound, sadly mixed with an obscure and previously undisclosed fury. “This is a family matter. Leave,” he snarled.
Jack had never once said anything of the sort to you, and to have him belittle your importance so freely hurt you profoundly. 
He was your family, but perhaps he was right, you weren’t his. 
You left the room before your vision got too blurry to walk out, and you heard harsh whispered tones before you went down the stairs. 
You wiped your eyes and were halfway out the door when a firm hand grasped your arm and brought you back inside swiftly. 
Your face met a firm chest and you knew who it was before you could try to hide your tears, and you didn’t care about anything other than comfort right now.
It occurred to you that Mr. Hotchner was probably seeking some comfort too, after all, it couldn’t have been easy hearing his son tell him that. 
Your arms encircled his softer middle section naturally, and you banished the thoughts that started to emerge. His tummy was a part of him you longed to cherish in your most lucid dreams, but it was unfair to bask in the sensation of his tall build covering yours because this was simply two sympathetic bruised souls engaging in friendliness. 
You shut your eyes for a second, trying to breathe in and out, hoping the pain would subside. 
“He didn’t mean any of it. He just gets like this sometimes,” he said softly.
You slightly moved away from the hug, still holding on but barely, aware it wasn’t appropriate for you to indulge too much. 
You looked up into Mr. Hotchner’s eyes, and his distant stare and set jaw made your heart ache. 
He was hurt. He was holding it together, but he was evidently tormented by trauma, and his tense stance wordlessly confirmed that some invisible wounds lurked and continued to run deep.
His gaze softened all at once as it met yours.
“He loves you. He always says you’re his hero. He even told me he never once blamed you for–” 
A tentative hand came up to cradle your cheek, and a flick of his thumb picked up a few stray tears. “Sweetheart, even if he hates me, I’m his dad. I’m always going to love him.”
You forced a smile as tears welled up in your eyes. 
You truly admired the father before you, and as much as you felt crushed that Jack didn’t consider you important, you could almost forgive him because it had led to this soothing closeness.
“Are you okay?” he fretted with genuine concern in his voice. 
You suddenly realized how close he was, how he hadn’t loosened his hold on you when you had. 
You could feel how strong he was every time he breathed, you could smell his aftershave and detergent, and a blaring thought reared its ugly head; his scent and his presence made you feel more at home than anything else ever had. 
You couldn’t entertain that thought. 
Not now, perhaps not ever. 
You moved back, hugging yourself as a chill ran over you. “I’m fine.”
Mr. Hotchner frowned, but he didn’t push it. 
Truth was, you weren’t emotionally equipped to deal with any of this. 
Jack and Mr. Hotchner would have to be on the back burner for a few days, and you would have to go home to lick your wounds before you would even consider talking to Jack again.
You turned away, opting to leave before you did or said something stupid, but again, a firm hand grasped your arm before you could escape.
“You’re not driving anywhere at this hour and in this state,” he protested. 
Fuck.
"I'm just going to sleep in the car," you explained, knowing it wouldn’t work but nonetheless hoping it would.
As if he sensed your discomfort, he released your arm and held his hands up in front of him. 
"Just take my bed. I'll take the couch."
Sleeping in his bed? Sleeping where he slept? Sleeping where his scent would overwhelm you? 
Considering how often you had dreams about him…
You knew danger zones. And this was one. 
Hell, no.
"Oh, no. It's fine, Mr. Hotchner. The car seat reclines–"
He chuckled, startling you with the unexpected sound. "When are you going to stop calling me that? We’ve already talked about this. You make me feel old."
"You're not–"
A small lopsided grin graced his face, and the sight reassured you on the spot. “You can either stay the night or you can finally tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’m not–”
He quirked an eyebrow, and you should have known the profiler would notice you avoiding him at all costs when you used to talk to him a lot more, even if most of the time Jack was present, you still used to interact with him more frequently than you did now.
“It’s nothing you did,” you stressed.
He gave you a tight-lipped smile at that. "Come on. Get some rest. I'll wake you early in the morning if you really want to leave before Jack gets up."
You knew there was no saying no to him, so you nodded and made your way towards the stairs.
You knew where his room was because there weren't many rooms upstairs, and Jack had made you visit the entire house early on in your friendship.
"Goodnight," he breathed as you trodded up the stairs. 
"Goodnight, Mr. Hotchner."
You walked into his room and looked down at yourself. Sure, a summer dress would be fine to sleep in, but if you closed the door and slept in your underwear, no one would know.
You discarded your dress before you lay down in the middle of the most comfortable bed you had ever been in. 
You shut your eyes, smelling Mr. Hotchner all around you as you had a bit earlier. 
It didn't take long for you to find restful sleep, and it took even less time for your mind to drift off to thoughts of Mr. Hotchner.
You were in the throes of the hottest sex dream you had ever had, so close to reaching your peak untouched as you woke up with a glaring pain behind your eyes and at the base of your skull.
Oh, shit.
You were no strangers to migraines. You had had them for years, but getting one when you were far away from your meds, and in someone else's home, someone else's bed... 
Someone's bed. 
Right. 
You had just been dreaming about that particular someone going down on you.
Great.
You needed something for the pain and you knew where the ibuprofen was, so you tip-toed down the stairs, making your way to the main bathroom.
You were trying to look through stuff in the dark when the light was turned on, instantly stilling your movements.
"I'm just– I have a migraine," you stuttered before he could ask what you were doing in his medicine cabinet.
Mr. Hotchner wasn't frowning, and he didn't look unhappy you had woken him up in the middle of the night again, but as soon as you shared the reason why you were awake, he furrowed his brow with concern.
Then he looked up and down at you.
Shit. I'm in my underwear.
Mr. Hotchner raised an eyebrow as he smirked, removing his tee shirt and offering it to you so you could feel less naked.
His gaze made you feel more naked than anything you could wear or not wear.
He was such a gentleman that he gave you his shirt even if he was the one who ended up half-naked next to you.
Well, better him than me.
You put it on and Mr. Hotchner just waited until you cleared your throat to let his gaze fall back onto you.
You tried not to look at his bare chest or at the scars you knew were there.
You failed within seconds, but you had enough decency to make an effort to keep your eyes locked on his face.
"I'm sorry about your migraine, honey. What do you need?" he uttered in a soft hushed tone. 
You shrugged, taking two pills from the bottle before looking away and down at your feet. "Cold compress? I don't know."
Mr. Hotchner offered you a glass of water before he moved around you to wet a cloth with cold water, and instead of giving it to you, he just took your hand and made his way to the couch. 
He sat with you, facing you with his legs crossed. Somehow, he looked younger sitting like this, waiting for you to join him. 
"Put your head here," he said, gesturing to his lap.
You had no idea what to do, but you were in pain and emotionally unstable, apart from being sleep-deprived, and you would never turn down an opportunity to be close to him under those conditions because your judgement was certainly impaired. 
You lay down your head in his lap, looking up at him looking down at you. 
He placed the cold compress on your forehead, making you sigh in relief as your eyes fluttered close. Gentle hands started massaging the back of your neck, your temples, and your scalp, making you shudder as he pressed on spots where the pain stabbed and blinded you. 
For his apparent rough exterior, Mr. Hotchner had a very tender touch, and you wondered in what world it was okay for you to know that.
"How's that?" he pondered.
Your tense shoulders went limp as you relaxed even more, his fingertips rubbing your nape expertly. "Really good," you purred.
You were at his mercy, lax and drowsing in his lap unashamedly. 
“I used to get migraines and tension headaches at your age. You know, law school was–  I used to be permanently stressed out, living my life on high alert.”
“You?”
“Yes. Why is that so surprising?” he asked.
You opened your eyes to meet his, watching him wait for an answer. 
“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Hotchner, but you just look like the kind of person who has it under control all the time,” you stated.
He looked pensive for a split second, but he resumed massaging your temples, removing the cloth and folding it the other way around before putting it back on your skin. He was apparently making sure it remained somewhat cold enough to provide relief. It was a small thing really, but it spoke volumes that he cared enough to do that.   
“Not all the time–” he said calmly. “Anyway, I wished I had someone take care of me when I was– and I didn’t so…”
What about your wife?
You let that go as soon as it echoed around in your head. It wasn’t any of your business why Mrs. Hotchner didn’t take care of him when he wasn’t feeling well. 
To be fair, you’d always thought marriage was about finding someone you wanted to take care of. Someone for whom you’d cook soup, someone whose tummy you wanted to rub, someone to hold, someone to pet your forehead when you’re feverish. But that was perhaps the daddy issues talking.
He picked up the TV remote, and he offered it to you. 
“Do you want to put something on while we wait for the pills to make you feel better, honey?”
You nodded. “Let’s just keep it low.”
That was mostly for your sake rather than Jack’s since he would have deserved to be woken up by a movie blasting in the living room, considering.
He seemed intent on letting you choose so you settled for something corny that wouldn’t require you to focus. You selected The Fault in Our Stars since you had already seen it and you were certain you would be able to follow the story without having to think.
You decided to move before you dozed off in his lap, but Mr. Hotchner just held you down as he stretched his legs on the sofa, leaving you with some leeway to find a comfortable way to lie down while still keeping you close. You shifted on your side, hugging his leg as your face rested sideways on his firm thigh. It allowed you to see the TV while still feeling his warm hand palming your scalp. 
You removed the cloth from your forehead after a while, and Mr. Hotchner took it from you before he set it down on the coffee table.  
You pretended not to feel him tremble when the movie took a sad turn, and as his hand came up to wipe his eyes, you had to shut yours to avoid getting tempted to offer to lick his tears away. 
You also had to compose yourself because knowing Mr. Hotchner was the kind of softie who cried at sad films only made your longing more acute. 
Having your head on his leg was enough of a treat as it was. You just had to reel it in and keep a tight lid on whatever it was you felt. 
Your plan to compose yourself with your eyes closed completely backfired when you realized you had fallen asleep. 
You woke to soft whimpers and a bulge protruding near the side of your head, right before you realized your name was being moaned. 
Repeatedly. 
You opened your eyes to find Mr. Hotchner asleep in a way that would surely hurt his neck, and he was rock hard next to your head, moaning your name as if chanting it like a prayer.
It's just a dream. It doesn't mean anything.
You turned on your front to fully see what was poking at your head. The tent in his pajama pants was huge, and the flimsy material of his pajama pants did nothing to hide the fact that he was big.
You salivated at the sight, incredibly aware that everything you wanted was within reach.
A particularly throaty moan escaped his lips and this time, when you looked up, he was frowning at you.
You got down on your knees in front of him, making him turn to follow you, letting him plant his feet on the ground, and you weren't sure how to proceed from there but the man had just moaned your name and followed your move on instinct. 
He was sporting an impressive erection, and you wanted. 
How you wanted.
It didn’t take much but you were done questioning it.
You smiled softly, deciding to bend down and mouth at his clothed cock. 
If he really didn't want this, he would have tried to hide, he would have moved, he would have been embarrassed, he would not have been moaning your name, and simply put, he would stop you.
Instead, the second your lips were around his clothed hardness, his hips jerked up into your face and he groaned loudly.
You were thankful Jack was passed out drunk because surely, this would have woken him up.
"Are you sure you want this?" he hissed. 
You just mouthed at his dick with more conviction, making his eyes roll back in his head.
His hands ended up at the back of your head, pushing your face infinitely closer.
“I knew from the second I saw you that you had raging daddy issues. Are you about to prove me right, sweet girl?”
You were putting a wet spot on his pajama pants, trying to taste him through layers of clothing. You placed both your hands on his thighs, sinking your fingernails into his hard flesh. Your fingers dug through the material as your mouth moved on him, but you wanted so much more than this. 
“Mr. Hotchner–”
“You’re always so formal–” he tutted. He put a tender hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb on your soft skin. “Maybe one day, I’ll have you calling me by the right name.”
You let your hands roam on his bare chest as you continued to wet his pants with your saliva, trying so desperately to get some friction as you started rutting on his foot. 
Mr. Hotchner stopped you, palming himself through his pajama pants.
“Please, Mr. Hotchner,” you pleaded, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 
“If you really want this, come up here,” he said, gesturing to his lap. 
You got up so fast your head spun, but you straddled his lap without hesitation, patting his solid chest with determined hands. You felt him grip your waist, and you opted to trace his sideburns with the tip of your fingers before you let your fingers run through his hair. 
He groaned instantly, rocking his hips up into you. 
Mr. Hotchner leaned down to put his lips on your clothed breasts, savoring each one with warm breaths and enthusiasm, making you moan gently before he looked up at you on top of him.
He cocked his head while you panted above him, desperate to grind down on his erection to get some sort of relief. 
His hands were on your rib cage, his fingertips so close to your breasts that even clothed, it felt like he was voluntarily teasing. 
“How often I’ve dreamed of having you like this,” he noted, pushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear. 
You started grinding down on his lap, making him gasp as you rocked your core against his. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, exhaling hot air onto your face, reminding you how close you were like this. It didn’t take long for your rhythm to falter and for the shirt to ride up your waist. 
You were so lost in everything you felt that you had shifted away from his erection and you were left breathing hard as your panties slid back and forth on his hard thigh. 
You saw Mr. Hotchner look down, his smirk wide as you both realized how wet you were. You were leaving an impressive spot on his pajama pants through your panties.
“You’re soaking me,” he croaked, his voice betraying he was as affected by this as you were. 
You steadied yourself on his chest, feeling his hands grip your waist more forcefully, and without the tee shirt, he’d surely be leaving a mark. 
He helped you rub yourself against his thigh, undoubtedly sensing you were consumed by the kind of craving that made you tingle from head to toe. 
“Good girl. You’re doing so well,” he praised. 
Of all the things he could have said, he happened to say the one thing that made you clutch his chest with biting nails.
“Mmffhm—”
“Oh, you like being called a good girl, sweetheart?”
You started shaking with need, feeling the coil in your stomach heating up and tightening. 
His hand came to wrap itself around your throat, his eyes dark and filled with lust. “Answer me.”
“Yes, Mr. Hotchner.”
“Good girl,” he cooed with a smile, releasing your throat. 
The flutters in your stomach melted with the burning desire raging inside you. 
“Will you touch me?” you stammered, drunk on the feeling of his stiff thigh. 
You could probably come like this if you continued. 
Mr. Hotchner smiled cheekily, barely ghosting his finger over your drenched panties. 
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he grunted. 
“Please–” you begged. 
“I think you can come just like this, sweetheart. For me…”
You knew you probably could. You were close already. 
He put his hands back on your waist, guiding your movements on his thigh, watching your hips rock back and forth intently. 
“Are you going to make a mess, dirty girl? Am I going to need to wash you?” he asked huskily. “Maybe I should punish you for avoiding me. For not letting me talk to you or look at you.”
You were too far gone to wonder whether it had been as difficult for him to stay away from you as it had been for you to stay away from him. 
You moaned as your hips moved without restraint on top of him, rolling them back and forth just right so the friction of your panties rubbed your clit perfectly.
“Oh, god.”
You were so close to reaching your peak, and you felt unbearably hot on top of him. You knew you were soaking his pants, making a mess on his thigh, and the thought of him wanting to wash you, of him being angry and punishing you because you had avoided him… It only spurred you on. The thought of him missing you in the slightest set you alight. 
“Look at you, so beautiful wearing my shirt.”
“I’m too hot,” you whined. 
“Do you want me to help you with that?” 
You nodded eagerly.
His fingers pulled at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over your head, his eyes stuck on your face as you continued to grind down on his thigh. “You’re breathtaking.” 
You smiled at the compliment, doing your best to ignore how delightful it felt that he thought you were breathtaking because you were sizzling from the inside with thirst, and you couldn’t deal with the weight of his admission while you chased your orgasm. 
“Mr. Hotchner, you are so perfect–”
Lost in all the sensations and the sea of feelings that you were drowning in, he leaned down, his breath fanning over your breasts. He kissed a spot between them so softly, you thought you had imagined it for a second. 
“You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he whispered. 
The throbbing started to hurt, and you needed a bit more than just his thigh. You unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts, making your boobs bob up and down as you rubbed yourself on his erection a few times. 
“Please, Mr. Hotchner.” You didn’t even know what you were asking for, but you needed him to do something.
He grinned at you before he wrapped his lips around a nipple, licking it before sucking on it, making you whimper on top of him. 
He brought his other hand up around your throat before he decided to tap on your lips with his digits. 
“Suck on them for me, sweetheart.”
You opened your mouth, and his index and middle finger sank between your lips. You sucked on them instantly, making him hiss your name as you felt him twitch in his pants. 
Mr. Hotchner started licking your other nipple, sucking on it before he nipped at it gently, blowing hot air onto your skin as he alternated between them. 
He removed his wet fingers from your mouth, making you whine at the loss before he mouthed at one nipple, pinching the other with his fingertips.
“So good, Mr. Hotchner–”
You shifted again as your rhythm faltered, rutting on his thigh again. 
“Do it. Come on my thigh, sweet girl.”
You moaned loudly into the room, unable to keep the sounds from leaving your throat.
“Quiet,” he warned. 
“I can’t,” you pouted with a whimper. 
“Do you want me to keep you quiet?”
You nodded. 
He put his middle and ring fingers into your mouth while his other hand came up around your throat, barely squeezing it, but it was enough. Sucking on his fingers with a hand wrapped around your throat, having him put pressure on your windpipe whenever you were about to be too loud, well, it did wonders.  
You spared a thought for your sleeping friend upstairs, but as petty as it was, you couldn’t care less if you woke him right now. 
Mr. Hotchner looked at you adoringly, showcasing his dimples as his lips curled into a dazzling smile, and the sight was enough for you to let go, the coil in your stomach ripped to shreds. 
Your high came in violent waves as your body was overtaken by sharp shudders. 
Yet, you felt as centered as ever when a soft palm tenderly stroked your back. 
You opened your eyes, unaware you had closed them, and you found his gaze instantly, watching his hooded eyes, heavy with desire, survey you. He wasn’t scanning you for signs of uncertainty, his eyes simply darted over every inch of your face as if to take in your bliss. 
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
You let yourself fall forward, reveling in the feeling of him under you, surrounding you with his warmth, his cologne, his soft hands running up and down your back, his fingertips as they grazed your spine and made you shiver in delight. 
“Thank you,” you muttered in the crook of his neck. 
You’d probably regret this come morning, you’d probably question it, go over it a thousand times, but right now, he felt too solid underneath you to do anything but appreciate his enveloping comfort. 
“Come on, let’s go upstairs.”
You weren’t sure if your coming undone on his thigh would be the end of it, but you were thrilled that it apparently wasn’t. 
You quietly entered his room with him, watching him lock the door before you let him remove your panties, watching him discard his pants and boxers eagerly. 
He was indeed huge, leaking pre-cum and throbbing in need. The head was almost red, and you knew without a doubt that you wanted to take care of him as well as he had just taken care of you. 
But Mr. Hotchner took the lead, and you willingly followed. You would always willingly follow him, and as terrifying as it was, the thought helped you draw in a full breath. 
It took a matter of seconds for him to hover above you completely naked, and you couldn’t help but cup his cheek, feeling the shadow of a stubble scraping your palm.
He closed his eyes as if to savor it, and you cupped his other cheek, startling him enough to have him look into your eyes. 
“You are so handsome.”
He looked giddy and shy for a second, two things you never would have thought to associate with him. 
“This is way better than my imagination,” he admitted. 
Wait. Had he thought about this too?
“You–” you started, your mind spiraling with a thousand questions. 
“Yes, sweetheart. I’ve had to touch myself a lot because of you.”
“Show me?” you prompted. 
He searched your features but he surely found you were dead serious about this. 
Seeing his huge paw stroke his cock would fuel every last fantasy you would ever use to get off during your alone time. 
“You really want to see, sweet girl?” he queried, rubbing the back of his neck. 
“Yes.”
“I’ll– Okay. But on one condition: Would you say my name?”
From your very first interaction with him, he had insisted on having you call him something other than ‘Mr. Hotchner’, and you had always been afraid that overstepping that boundary would be crossing a line, that you wouldn’t be able to come back from it if you engaged in something less than formal. 
You smiled at him, assured that you wished to trespass.
“Aaron.”
“Hmm…” he hummed contentedly. He positioned himself with his back to the headboard, looking at you sitting down between his legs, facing him. He watched your hands caress his thighs before he looked at you again. “Say it again.”
“Aaron.”
He beamed at you, offering his left palm to you. “Spit.”
You obliged him, spitting into his hand a few times before he wrapped it around his erection, immediately mewling your name as he relieved some pent-up pressure. 
Watching his hand move up and down on his dick made you swoon, and the level of intimacy of this whole display wasn’t lost on you. 
He trusted you. 
And you trusted him. 
You leaned down to kiss his thighs, watching his hand speed up on his cock as you gently started biting his flesh, making him growl your name above you. 
“You’re doing so well, Aaron,” you applauded. 
His hips jerked up at the praise, making him thrust into his fist. He not only loved hearing his name, he decidedly loved this, too. 
Aaron looked absolutely delicious, and you would have to appeal to every last ounce of self-control you had not to touch him or taste him. 
“Ever since you came into our lives, I haven’t been able to get you off my mind,” he declared, and his voice completely mesmerized you as you observed his movements on his cock like a hawk. “Haven’t been on a date. Haven’t had sex. I can’t even watch porn without thinking of you, sweet thing. Fuck–” he added, gritting his teeth. “I don’t even like porn.”
You looked up at him through your eyelashes, your face so close to his cock you could almost taste the tangy salty pre-cum leaking from the tip.
“I touched myself to thoughts of you, too. I touch myself thinking of you. A lot,” you disclosed candidly. 
His hand lost its pace when his thighs started trembling, and he grabbed your chin, smiling at you. 
“My sweet forbidden fruit.” 
You hummed his name again, kissing his thighs in quick succession, biting him gently to elicit deep guttural moans to come flying out of his mouth. 
You were positive the soundproofing in this house was decent by now. 
“I’m close– Do you want me to come like this, sweetheart?” he asked.
You knew this was Aaron’s way of inquiring where this could go, where the limit was, and whether you wanted this to stop, but you wanted all of it. If this happened only once, you needed to experience all of him. 
You shook your head, raising yourself up. “As beautiful as this is, I want more.” You leaned down, kissing his chest gently before you sucked on a nipple, biting it a little as he had done to you earlier. It made him gasp in surprise. “Sorry.”
“No– I– I liked it.” He paused, caressing your face. “Way too much.”
“I want to cherish you. All of you.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he uttered smoothly, cupping your face. “We’ll do that some other time. I feel almost ready to explode.”
Another time?
You really wanted another time, more than you cared to admit, and you were beyond happy he wasn’t rejecting the idea of having this happen again.
“I need you,” you blurted out.
He chuckled breathlessly, in no way mocking you but visibly, he was amused by your impatience.
“What do you want? What do you think of when you touch yourself?”
“Just you. Your mouth. Your fingers,” you clarified.
“We can make that happen.”
He flipped you, pulling you down on your back before he started kissing your neck, sucking on your pulse point and making you rock upwards, seeking friction. 
Aaron started kissing his way down your body, lending great attention to your breasts again. He licked and sucked before he nipped gently, making you bury your hands into his hair. He groaned against your skin, thrusting his hips into nothing. 
“What you do to me…”
He made his way down, kissing your stomach with so much affection that you felt cherished from head to toe.
You’d do the same to him some other him. You promised yourself that right there and then. 
You were about ready to lose your mind once he settled between your legs, blowing hot air on your aching cunt. 
“Please.”
“Say my name,” he demanded.
“Aaron.”
He grinned before he kissed your inner thighs, spreading you wide and pulling your legs over his shoulders. 
“You smell delicious, sweet girl.”
He licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, not losing any precious seconds before he sucked on it, making you rock your pussy onto his face. 
He pressed down on your stomach with one hand, keeping you in place. He flicked his tongue over your clit repeatedly, making you arch your back, thrashing against his face regardless of the hand that he kept on you. 
You pulled on his hair as he started sucking more vigorously, shaking his head with the movements of his tongue, making you whimper as you bit harshly into your hand to silence your cries.
He whined the more you pulled, and you released your hold on him. Aaron instantly gathered your hand into his and put it back in his hair. 
You resumed the motions, this time gently tugging, and he growled against your cunt, making you thrash more violently under him. 
The coil started tightening in record time, threatening to tear incessantly, and you were helpless to his oral assault. He seemed to understand his hand was pointless on your stomach the more you moved, and he removed his mouth, licking his fingers before he breached you with one, putting his mouth back where it belonged before you could protest. 
He devoured you while he finger-fucked you, and you were left trying to find the right words to express how absolutely wrecked you were. He was ruining you for every other man, and he looked as if he knew it. He looked way too smug to be able to get you off this easily.
He added another finger, arching them into you just so. 
You saw stars before you could even warn him, and you came with a loud shudder as you heard him growl your name from between your legs. 
He didn’t relent, and when you started whining because of how sensitive you were, it seemed to fuel him. He was trying to milk this orgasm out of you bit by bit, and he was succeeding. Your legs quivered and unexpectedly, you felt a spurt of wetness drip down your pussy and onto his face. 
You could barely comprehend what had happened when you got lost in subspace, but the sound of his voice kept you firmly tethered in the here and now.  
Aaron made his way up to your face, kissing your cheek so delicately after basically eating you out like a five-star meal. 
His face glistened with your juices, and you realized how soaked his face was, how sticky and warm it was, but he didn’t seem to care and you certainly didn’t. 
You cupped his face with one hand, letting the other gently pat his hair to make up for the fact that you had pulled on his roots. 
He definitely liked having your fingers massage his scalp, he shuddered as you traced his scalp with your fingernails. 
He looked at you with a simple question in his eyes, but the only thing you could think to say was, “Please fuck me.”
He met your gaze with a serious look, his frown deepening. “If I take you, there’s no going back, sweet girl. I don’t share.”
He was making a statement but offering you an out. He was opening the door, but he wasn’t letting it close behind you. He was serious about this whole thing, and it occurred to you all at once that he liked you enough to not want to share you.
And while you were ready to agree to anything to feel him inside you, while you needed it like you needed air, you liked him enough to know what you were agreeing to.
What you felt for him was sometimes inexplicable, but there was no denying that you would not want any other man to touch you after this. 
You caressed his raven hair once more, smiling at him without a single doubt clouding your mind. Two orgasms would tend to make anyone carefree, but above all else, as bare as you were, you felt safe. Protected. Cared for. At home. 
He smiled back when he didn’t find you uncertain, and he kissed your forehead before he moved to find something in the drawer of his nightstand.
If ever this was the one and only time you got to be with him, you needed to feel him. If ever your morals got to you in the morning, if your head went against your heart, you needed to be as close to him as you could.
“Aaron, I’m on the pill. Please… I need to feel you.”
He nodded and positioned himself between your legs again, but something overcame him as you tried to bring his face closer to yours to finally find out how his lips felt against yours. 
He flipped you on your stomach as if you weighed nothing at all, a hand found its way to your stomach, bringing your ass up in the air. 
On all fours, you felt incredibly naked before him. But he stroked your skin lovingly, and somehow, it felt right. It felt magnificent. 
You didn’t feel all that naked anymore. 
He tapped his cock on your ass a few times before he breached you with the head of his cock, making you clench around the width unwillingly. 
You groaned and whimpered the more he sank into you, stretching you out and splitting you in half painfully slowly. 
“So fucking tight–” he grumbled.
A hand settled on your waist, gripping it tightly as you felt him twitch inside you. He would probably leave a mark if he continued to grip your waist this way, but you would admire it for days to come if he did. 
Fortunately, you were still dripping wet so it didn’t take long for the pain to subside and blend with pleasure, a dull throb echoing around your inner walls and making you clench around his dick. 
He was fully sheathed, but he made sure you remained bent over, your face breathing in his scent on the pillows.
It was intoxicating to be surrounded by all of him, but it was also troubling because you would never get enough. 
He slowly pulled out before he drove his cock back in in one go, and it was obvious as you tried to think that you had been rendered dumb and mute by his dick. 
“Mmffhm—”
“You feel so good, sweetheart.”
His hips started snapping abruptly, his rhythm unforgiving as he thrusted in and out of you sharply.
Aaron was surely driven by forces of nature or by sheer animal instinct as he gripped your ass cheeks with his hands, chewing your flesh with his fingers. 
It felt absolutely amazing to be taken. 
It felt empowering to know he was making you his. 
“Go on, tell me this pussy’s mine,” he drawled as his thrusts became sloppy. 
“Yours. All yours,” you affirmed, chanting his name into the pillows as each thrust of his hips made your cheek rub against the sheets. 
His thumb gently tapped on your asshole, letting you know you were at his mercy. 
“All those pretty little holes are mine,” he groaned. “You are mine. Say it.”
“Yes,” you whimpered. “I’m yours.”
He let a hand wander down to your stomach before he reached your clit, palming you enough to make you shiver and thrash relentlessly on the bed.
The only sounds in the room were skin tapping against skin, muffled moans, and low groans.
He worked his fingers on your clit with harsher flicks, rubbing and pinching in succession. 
“You’re clenching so hard around me, sweet thing. You have a vice grip on my dick.”
You could only partially moan incoherent syllables. “Mmffhm—”
“That’s right. I’m fucking you so good that you have to keep quiet or we’ll make the entire neighborhood.” He punctuated his sentences with harsher thrusts. “One day, though, I’m going to make sure to memorize all your pretty sounds while you beg and scream my name.”
Would there be another time? It wasn’t the first time he had suggested it tonight. 
You couldn’t even think straight. 
“I can feel your walls fluttering. Is the coil in your stomach tight?” he whispered breathlessly.
You barely nodded and a few soft slaps landed on your ass cheek, making you miss his fingers on your clit, but the sting of his palm was exquisite, sending an electric shiver down your spine before you felt flutters in your chest. Your stomach burned with need, you overflowed with happiness, and you were so close to losing it for a third time. 
“Oh.”
“You like that, too, huh?” he teased. He said it as if he was making mental notes of everything that turned you on, and knowing him the way you did, he probably was. He was nothing if not observant, and he would surely make sure to know exactly how to get you off if the occasion presented itself again. 
You couldn’t blame him, because regardless of the fact that you couldn’t form a single sentence, you had still taken note of everything that made him moan somewhere. You’d probably even get to revisit those things in your fantasies. 
Aaron was all you could think about and he was all you could feel. He was everything that you wanted, and he would be everything you would ever want. 
He drove his dick into you with longer thrusts, hitting so deep you saw stars as you chanted his name. He was not just grazing your g-spot, he was actually hitting it with precision every time he sank into you, and when his fingers found your clit again, you had to bite into his pillow to refrain from screaming your lungs out as your orgasm rocked you in waves. 
You hadn’t had time to warn him, but it seemed to be a blessing when you felt him still behind you, his deep groans filling the room.
You felt him throb inside you, pulsating with each shot of cum you felt painting your walls. 
He seemed to come for longer than you were used to, shaking violently enough to rattle the bed, but you wouldn’t move because you weren’t sure you could, and you wanted nothing more than to have his seed everywhere inside you.
Aaron suddenly let his entire weight fall down on you, seemingly unable to hold himself up any longer, toppling you over before he pulled you close to him as he rested on his side, watching you on your front as he started to delicately trace your spine with his fingers. 
He smiled at you lazily, like a man who had just fucked you silly. 
He looked proud, but he also looked genuinely happy. 
You smiled back, finding it easy to be lost in this silent moment with him. 
Nothing needed to be said or acknowledged. 
His cum was shoved so deep inside you, his dick had stretched you so good you’d feel it for days, and he was smiling at you with affection in his sparkling eyes. 
You didn’t want to wonder whether it would happen again because you were determined to make sure it would. 
You remained transfixed for a few minutes, waiting for your trembling limbs to stop tingling.
Aaron started drifting off, but he shook himself awake and he grabbed your hand with determination. “Come on, I’ll wash you.”
You tried to follow him to what looked like an ensuite bathroom, but your legs were too wobbly to sustain you.
“My legs–” you explained as you almost fell face first.
His arms held you up effortlessly, and he just looked way too smug to have made your legs surrender.  
“Oh, I’ll take care of you,” he cooed. 
Aaron picked you up bridal style without notice as if it was normal to do so, bringing you to his shower as he started it with one hand.
He made it seem easy to hold you up, and you put your arms around his neck, indulging in the proximity he was providing.
He brought you inside the shower once he seemed satisfied with the water temperature, putting you down worriedly, holding you close as you verified that your legs could hold you up. 
He was so gentle and careful, you wondered if this was the same man who had just fucked you senseless into the mattress, the same man who had told you to tell him you were his. 
The same man who is your best friend’s father.
It came crashing down on you all at once. 
You felt guilty, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret any of it. 
Truth was, you would do it again. 
All of it. 
Am I a horrible friend?
It didn’t matter when Aaron was looking at you like you were the most precious thing he had ever held. 
He kissed your forehead under the spray, letting his lips linger there before he kissed your nose and hovered above your lips. 
You didn’t let him hesitate, knowing he had probably not kissed you until now because this was sacred. This was more. This wasn’t about carnal needs or desires, it was about having a real emotional connection. 
It was about acknowledging this was more than just fucking. 
You grabbed his head and closed the distance, finally finding out that his lips were soft and sweet, and that his breath was warm and soothing. 
You kissed him until he let you graze his tongue, until you sucked on his lower lip, until his knees buckled and you had to hold him up as much as he was holding you up. 
He was out of breath by the time you pulled away, his eyes dark but soft. 
This time, he was the one who couldn’t find the right words.
“Can I wash your hair?” you inquired. 
You knew he liked having your fingers in his hair, and you figured that since you were both wet anyway...
He nodded and kneeled, picking up his bottle of shampoo before handing it to you with a grin. 
His eyes gleamed with anticipation, and he hugged your waist as you patted his head, watching how much younger he looked like this. The lines on his face were nothing if not incredibly attractive, but his whole demeanor as he kneeled innocently before you was simply adorable. He looked carefree, but above all else, he was unguarded. 
Aaron moved back just enough to let you work, his hands on your legs, looking up at you like a golden retriever looked at his favorite human, with pretty and big brown eyes filled with adoration.
You finished washing his hair and you used his body gel to wash yourself clean swiftly, loving that you would smell like him for hours if you wondered whether your mind had played a sick trick on you when you woke up. 
Aaron let his head fall down and for a second, you admired his fleeting vulnerability. You had caught a few glimpses of it tonight, but you knew without a doubt he was having second thoughts because of his son. 
He was a good man. You were a good person. At least, you thought so. 
And you had both just done something very… questionable. 
But questionable shouldn’t feel this good, right?
“He doesn’t hate you, you know,” you whispered softly, hoping to calm the quiet storm which seemed to rage inside him. 
You lifted his chin with your fingers, meeting his tender but apprehensive gaze. He wasn’t hiding and he wasn’t panicking, he was just calling his morality into question. You knew because you were, too. 
He was completely bare before you, in every way possible. “Thank you.”
Aaron didn’t voice that Jack would probably hate him if he found out about this, and you were grateful for that. 
Nothing needed to be said. You had both risked your relationship with Jack tonight.
He didn’t mention that he was concerned that his son already hated him either, but you knew he was worried. To be fair, Jack probably hated the entire world because of his breakup right now, and you didn’t think it had been directed at Aaron in particular. You were both just caught in the crossfire earlier. 
While he and Jack had had their fair share of hurt, their relationship wasn’t rocky. You knew that much. After all, you were around for the last two years and not once did you feel any animosity between them.
You got on your knees, hugging him close under the warm spray. Whatever this was, whatever happened, he deserved comfort. 
You got out of the shower still holding on to one another, wrapping yourselves up into towels before you walked back into his room. 
He offered you a tee shirt before he kissed your crown, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist. “Are you hungry? I could make us something.”
He was so thoughtful, so considerate… 
I am in love with him. 
It wasn’t a scary realization, it wasn’t even unsettling. It was just there. 
“I’m good. Thank you.”
He smiled and put the tee shirt down over your head before he put on a pair of boxers. You wondered what the right course of action was as he got settled in bed, but it became obvious as you watched Aaron opening up his arms to you. You didn’t hesitate and you wrapped yourself around him like a koala, your arms finding their rightful place around his waist.
He kissed your forehead again, his lips lingering there.
“What does this mean?” you finally asked, addressing this pleasant energy between you.
“It means that you should sleep here more often.” 
“Aaron–” It still sounded foreign rolling around in your mouth, after all, you had called him ‘Mr. Hotchner’ for over two years, but it was not unnatural. “What are we–”
“I don’t know. Just stay with me?”
“This can’t ever happen again, right? Jack would never forgive us if he found out.”
“Why? He doesn’t want you for himself–”
Wait. How does he know that?
“Sorry?”
"I know my son isn't attracted to women, sweetheart. I figure, when he's ready, he'll tell me."
Apparently, Aaron was as observing as you gave him credit for. 
But Jack wouldn’t be mad because he was jealous. He would be mad because he brought you here, and you had betrayed his trust.
“It’s not that. He’s my only friend. He’s–”
“Taking you for granted most of the time. He’s everything to you but–” He paused. He clearly knew how much it hurt you to hear it voiced out loud. “You’re a great friend, honey. He’s not. I know my son. I still love him but he’s not perfect– Look, you might have convinced yourself he was the closest thing you had to a brother, but I’m telling you, a friend– a brother– gives back. You bring him back from parties, you make up cue cards for him when he needs to study, you do some of his essays… When was the last time he did something for you?” He paused again, letting you think. “And if he knows exactly who you are like you think he does, he must know what kind of men you like–” he added, tracing your arm with the tips of his fingers, raising goosebumps as he painted your skin with soft touches. “And still, he brought you here…”
“Aaron–”
He kissed your forehead, angling his body so you could curl into his embrace a bit more. His lips were slightly parted as he looked into your eyes, and a faint taint appeared on his cheeks. 
You crinkled your nose in amusement at the sight. 
He was buried inside you minutes ago, and now he was blushing because you had used his first name unprompted. 
He loved hearing his name leave your lips, that much was obvious from his dilated pupils and long lazy blinks. 
“I’ll be good to you, sweetheart. I just need you to let me,” he murmured.
His hand finally sat on your rib cage, and you involuntarily pouted because this was exactly what you wanted, and he was offering it to you on a silver platter without any reservation. 
“I just–”
“Sweetheart, we could find a million reasons not to but I want–” He paused, long enough for you to admire his pursed lips and furrowed brow. He was gorgeous self-assured, as you knew, but he was somehow even more stunning when he was insecure. He tugged on the hem of the shirt he had put on you, bowing his head down before zeroing in on your face. A fond expression ghosted over his features, looking at you through eyelashes that should be illegal on a man. “Look, we’ll figure it out, okay? You live alone, we can sneak around and… I don’t know. We don’t have to decide anything just yet, but I’d like to explore this. I really like you.”
“I– uh– yes. Me too.”
He set an alarm on his phone before he kissed the top of your head, squeezing you tightly into his arms. 
“Sleep, sweet girl. I’ll wake you. Jack sleeps in till noon when he’s hungover anyway.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
You didn’t miss how his breath hitched at the nickname or how his pulse quickened as you yawned against his chest. 
He let out a long breath as his arms engulfed you, lulling you into peaceful safety and unwavering comfort. He played with your hair and massaged your neck, tracing the lines of your face with his fingertips as if he wanted to be able to draw you from memory, effectively rendering you oblivious to the world before you could think about the possible repercussions of what you had just agreed to be for one another.
-------
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believemedarlin · 3 months
Text
The Perfect Man
Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader (3.9k words) Also available on AO3
Summary:
“You know, if you combined all the men on the team… they’d make the perfect man.”
“What?” Emily sputtered into her wine.
Penelope giggled while JJ looked intrigued
***
A drunken night out with the girls leads to some interesting revelations.
***
“Let’s play Fuck, Marry, Kill.”
A round of groans sounded from the table, but Penelope Garcia was not to be dissuaded. 
“Come on, ladies. It’ll be fun!”
Her best puppy dog eyes firmly in place, Penelope implored her friends and coworkers with a practiced look. You were holding strong until she brought out the big guns and pouted at you.
A mere ten seconds later you caved. 
“Okay, fine,” You sighed. “But can we use kick instead of kill? I always hated that option. Why do you have to kill them when kicking would be just as effective in showing your lack of interest? No death required.”
“Ooh, I like that,” Penelope immediately agreed with a nod. “You know I’m a pacifist at heart.”
She turned to the other two women seated at the table, pout back in full force. JJ gave in first, patting Penelope’s hand with an indulgent smile and a nod. 
Seeing that she was outnumbered, Emily shrugged. “Sure. But I’ll need another drink if we’re doing this. I haven’t played this since college.”
“I’ll get us all another round.” Penelope jumped to her feet to join her and they made their way to the bar, weaving through the other patrons.
It was a rare Friday night off and the women of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit had decided to go out for a much-needed night of ladies-only fun and frivolity. They had happily left the guys to sort out their evenings and escaped the second the clock struck five.
They were all a few drinks in at this point, which is most likely the reason Penelope had suggested the game. She always got a bit playful when she drank.
They returned a few minutes later, fresh drinks in hand. 
Once settled, Penelope leaned in, an eager smile on her face. “Okay. Fuck, Marry, Kick. Henry Cavill, Ben Barnes, Zachary Levi. And go!”
Emily took a sip of her drink and wasted no time in voicing her choices, followed by JJ and you. You took turns coming up with more and more outlandish options, and pleasantly spent the next hour drinking and laughing with your friends.
You had just finished giggling over Penelope’s reasoning behind her choosing to kick Willy Wonka and marry Jareth the Goblin King so she could enjoy a night with Conan the Barbarian when Emily leaned in with a smirk.
“I’ve got a good one. Hotch, Morgan, and Reid.”
The table erupted in a chorus of ooohs and laughter. 
JJ bit her lip in thought. “Okay, since we know them personally and I’m a happily taken woman, I’m going to change mine to kiss, because it’s weird to say I want to fuck any of them. So, uh, I’ll go with kiss Morgan, marry Reid, and kick Hotch. But only barely, because I do not want him angry with me.”
“Easy,” Penelope chirped. “Fuck Morgan, marry Morgan, and kick Reid and Hotch.”
You, JJ, and Emily burst into laughter, with JJ swatting Penelope on the arm. “You can’t double up like that!”
“Can too! My game, my rules. Besides, it’s special circumstances with Morgan as an option.”
Emily snorted, then grinned. “Hmm. I think I’d go with fuck Morgan, marry Hotch, and kick Reid.”
All eyes then turned to you as you stared into your drink, taking entirely too long as you overthought the options.
Eventually, Emily cleared her throat and you looked up to see her watching you expectantly.
“What?” You grinned sheepishly with a shrug. “It’s harder than you’d think!”
The ladies teased you good-naturedly until you finally said, “Okay, okay! Um, I think…” 
You blew out a breath in a long sigh. “Fuck Reid, marry Hotch, kick Morgan. No wait… Maybe fuck Hotch, marry Reid?”
Emily and JJ cackled while Penelope put on a fake offended air. “Why you gotta kick my beloved cinnamon hot chocolate Adonis not once, but twice? He’s the perfect man!”
"I mean, a lot of women would think that, yeah, but not me.”
Penelope gasped and pressed her hand to her chest dramatically. “Why, I never.”
You giggled with a shrug. “Sorry?” 
“You’re forgiven.”
“What I want to know,” JJ chimed in with a mischievous grin, “is why you can’t decide between Reid and Hotch on who to marry?”
You buried your face in your hands to hide your blush. “I don’t know! Both seem like solid choices. I think they’d both make good husbands.”
Emily smirked. “Sure it wasn’t because you couldn’t decide which you’d rather fuck?”
Penelope and JJ burst into laughter again while you groaned into your hands.
“You all are menaces. I don’t know why I spend time with you.”
“Because we’re wonderful people and you love us.”  Penelope teased.
“That’s debatable.” You mumbled.
“Oh, come on,” she leaned into your side and laid her head on your shoulder. “You know you adore us.” Penelope batted her eyes and you couldn’t help but grin.
“Yeah, I do.”
She cheered and called for another round of drinks.
The game wound down and devolved into a rather extensive list of men and women that each of the ladies wouldn’t mind enjoying some personal one-on-one time with.
You had been sitting in a comfortable silence for the past few minutes, chin in hand and elbow on the table, your mind pondering on something Penelope had said earlier. Your voice took on a contemplative tone as you mused aloud, “You know, if you combined all the men on the team… they’d make the perfect man.”
“What?” Emily sputtered into her wine.
Penelope giggled while JJ looked intrigued.
“Okay, just hear me out. Now, granted, everyone’s idea of the perfect man is different but for me… If we go by physical attributes first, you have to admit that each guy is objectively attractive on their own. I mean seriously, was it a prerequisite that everyone has to be outrageously good-looking to be a member of the team?”
The ladies heartily agreed with laughter and nods, but you gestured across the table to them. “I’m including you three in this too. Have you looked at yourselves? You’re all absolutely gorgeous.”
“Damn right, we are,” Emily exclaimed as she high-fived JJ.
You raised your glass to her and took a sip before expanding on your premise. “So by themselves, each man is handsome but combined…”
You tilt your head in thought. “For me, it would be Reid’s hair. I’ve always liked longer hair on a guy and have you seen those curls when he lets it grow out? And then add in Hotch and Rossi’s dark hair and … yeah. Next would be Morgan and Rossi’s facial hair. I don’t know about you ladies but I like a man with a bit of scruff, you know what I mean? Goatee or full beard or just a couple of days growth, hell even a good five o’clock shadow, as long as it’s maintained and not all scraggly, I like it. Oooh, remember when Hotch came back with a beard?
“Yeah,” you sighed, a bit more dreamily than you had intended, surely caused by the late hour and not the memory of a casually dressed, bearded Hotch. “Like that.”
All three ladies shared a knowing look, but you paid them no mind. 
“Though there is something to be said about a freshly shaved face. It’s so soft…” You sighed again.
“And then there’s height.” You knew you were rambling, but with the alcohol fueling you, there was little chance of stopping you now. “They’re all at least 6 foot so the height difference is perfect for both cuddles and forehead kisses.”
At this, Emily snorted. “Forehead kisses?”
“Yes,” you snipped primly. “They are the pinnacle of non-lip-to-lip kisses and they are my favorite thing. They just make you feel so adored. Now shush.”
You shooed her and rested your chin back in your hand. “Let’s see… Eyes. Honestly, I think they all have lovely eyes. I’m not picky on eye color really but I think Hotch’s stand out the most to me. I mean, have you seen his eyelashes? It should be criminal for a man to have such beautiful eyelashes.”
Another round of nods and hummed agreements sounded from the table.
“You know,” you continue with barely a pause, “I’ve never been a fan of really buff dudes, which sorry Pen, but that’s kinda why poor Morgan got kicked twice.” You shrugged unapologetically at her. 
“I’ve always preferred lean guys. Not scrawny but not bugling out his shirt, you know? Strong but not shoved in your face. But!” You sit straighter in your chair, index finger raised to emphasize your point. “That’s just looks. Personality-wise, I’m drawn to kindness first and our boys all have that in spades. And they each show it in different ways, but it’s always present.”
You met Penelope’s eyes. “And Morgan’s kindness absolutely overrides his excessive muscle mass. He’s honestly one of the kindest people I know, even if he’d deny it. He’s not humble about a lot of things, but he is about that.”
Your eyes dropped to the table as your finger ran along the wood grain. “I also like intelligence and while yes, first thoughts go to Reid, the others are all brilliant too. Like, Rossi is so wise! It seems like he always knows what’s going on with someone before anyone else, and always seems to know just what to say just when you need to hear it. And they each have strengths that I admire. I genuinely like each of them as a person and I’m proud to know them and am honored they consider me a friend. Honestly, I feel that way about all of you.”
“Aw!” Penelope sniffled. “That’s so sweet. We love you too, you know.”
You gave her hand a quick squeeze and took another sip of your drink. 
“What about lips?”
You blinked at JJ. “Lips? I’m not sure. I don’t know that I look at them much.”
Emily tilted her head. “You seriously don’t look at men’s lips?”
“Not really? I mean, I notice smiles. And honestly, how did I not start with that? It’s usually one of the first things I notice about someone. Smiles make everyone look twice as attractive. Oh, and a sense of humor! Gotta love a man who can make you laugh.”
“This one is definitely Morgan,” Emily chimed in and you nodded in agreement while Penelope raised her glass.
“Absolutely. He always makes me laugh, but so do the others. Rossi is snarky, which I appreciate as a fellow snarker. I can’t tell you the number of times he’s made me hold back a laugh during a round table. Reid can be really funny, too. Especially when we’re making Star Trek or Doctor Who references that no one else gets. Except you, Pen, but you’re usually in your lair. And Hotch—”
“No,” Emily cut in. “No way you think he’s funny. The man barely smiles.”
You tsked and leaned in, your tone turning a bit haughty. “First of all, I think it’s a good thing that he holds those back because have you seen how handsome he is when he smiles? His whole face transforms and he has dimples. Dimples . It’s ridiculous and no one would be able to focus on work if he was blinding us with his smile all the time. And secondly, yes. He’s hilarious, actually. He has a dry sense of humor that gets me every time. And he is so straight-faced about it. I laughed embarrassingly loud once at something he said and I had to leave the room because I couldn’t stop giggling. And the man had the nerve to be smug about it later.”
You shook your head with exasperated fondness, not noticing the raised eyebrows and pointed looks the other ladies were sharing.
“Anyway,” You sighed and leaned back in your chair. “Morgan is my biggest supporter, Reid nerds out with me, Rossi gives the best advice, and Hotch makes me feel safe. All things that would attract me to someone. So, with their powers combined…” You spread your hands in a sweeping motion. “The perfect man.”
“Huh,” Penelope hummed. “You know, I kinda see it.”
“See?” You grinned triumphantly. “We really do work with amazing guys.”
A cry of ‘hear, hear’ sounded around the table and the four of you leaned in to clink glasses.
Emily settled back in her chair with a smirk, her eyes focused on you. “Okay, you waxed poetic about the guys. Now, what about us?”
You grinned. “You, my darling lady loves, all hold a special place in my heart. There’s no way I could choose. You are each the perfect woman.”
Another cheer went up and everyone downed their drinks, laughing merrily.
The outing wound down about half an hour later. You each stumbled your way outside, Emily and Penelope deciding to share a taxi.
You stood with JJ as you waved the other two goodbye; you waiting for your own taxi and JJ waiting for Will to pick her up.
“You know,” she said conversationally, her eyes on the street. “You mentioned Hotch quite a few times describing your perfect man.”
You blinked. “What? I did not.”
She turned to you with a wide grin. “Oh yes, you did. No denying it now.”
You sputtered, not sure how to reply.
She chuckled and laid a hand on your arm, just as your taxi arrived. “Seems to me like he ticks quite a few of the boxes for your perfect man.” She leaned in to whisper, “So what are you going to do about it?”
JJ winked as she stepped back to open the door of the car that pulled in behind your taxi and slid in. “Just think about it, okay?”
You nodded numbly, mechanically climbing into the back seat of the taxi while Will and JJ patiently waited to make sure you were safely on your way.
You mumbled out your address and barely noticed the drive home, arriving much sooner than expected, as your mind was focused on JJ’s words.
You shook your head as you entered your apartment, determined to think no more of it. It was just a silly statement born out of one too many drinks.
There was no way you thought of Hotch that way.
No way at all.
***
The rest of the weekend was miraculously quiet and work-free. You couldn’t remember the last time you had so much time to yourself, so you took full advantage of it.
As days off always tended to do, they flew by too quickly and Monday morning arrived before you were ready for it. You greeted everyone when you entered the department, nodding to Rossi and waving at Morgan and Penelope as you settled in at your desk.
No new case had come in, so today would be an in-office day catching up on paperwork and caseloads.
You were productive throughout the day, completing most of the pending work assigned to you, and you were feeling quite accomplished with the diminishing stack in your inbox.
Only a few minutes remained in the workday when you stood from your chair, stretching your stiff back, and made your way up the stairs to Hotch’s office to drop off an armful of completed reports.
You knocked on his door, only having to wait a second before he bid you enter.
He was focused on the open file in front of him and he didn’t look up until you spoke. “These are ready for you to review, Hotch.”
His eyes shot up to meet yours before dropping to the folders in your arms. He gestured to the corner of his desk nearest you and went back to scribbling notes on the report. “You can just leave them there, thank you.”
You set them down next to another stack and grimaced. There were multiple bundles of files littering his desk. While in-office days were great for clearing your desk of work, it unfortunately always added to Hotch’s workload.
“Looks like everyone had similar offerings for you today. Will you be able to leave at a reasonable hour tonight? I’d be happy to help with anything if you need it.”
Hotch finished the line he was writing and looked up at you through his long lashes, a small, shy kind of smile curving his lips. His cheeks were just a touch pinker than usual and you blinked because you’ve never seen that look on his face before.
He looked almost bashful, a word you would never have associated with Aaron Hotchner.
But damn, was it a good look on him. He really was a handsome man, wasn’t he? Kind, funny, successful, and a great father. He was practically the perfect man.
You froze and blinked again at the realization.
“Oh, uh,” his deep voice broke you from your thoughts. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got it covered. I shouldn’t be here too much longer.”
“Right, of course.” You nodded and prayed he couldn’t see the blush you knew was rapidly spreading across your face. “Well, good night, sir.” 
You spun on your heel and opened the door, ready to flee as fast as your feet could carry you.
His low, murmured good night followed you out the door and you nearly shivered because holy hell, even his voice was attractive.
You quickly grabbed your things and nearly sprinted to the elevators, not wanting to stay one second longer around skilled profilers who could read you so easily, knowing they would spot your flushed cheeks instantly and want to know what caused them. Or worse, they’d already know, and that was not something you were ready to discuss with any of them at the moment.
You had fully intended on ignoring JJ’s words from Friday night, but after your reaction just now, you knew she was right.
Hotch was pretty damn close to fitting the idea of your perfect man.
Or maybe, the idea of your perfect man came from Hotch.
You sighed as you entered the thankfully empty elevator, finally admitting to yourself the truth that had been staring you in the face for longer than you’d ever care to admit.
You had it bad for Aaron Hotchner.
Oh, you were in so much trouble.
***
Aaron watched as you left his office, your face a delightful shade of pink.
His eyes followed as you rushed to your desk, snatched up your things, and darted out the door.
He hadn’t meant to overhear Prentiss and Garcia’s conversation that morning as they reminisced over their night out last Friday. He certainly hadn’t meant to linger when they mentioned you and your adorable—according to Garcia—rant about the perfect man. And he most certainly hadn’t meant to lean in rather eagerly when they whispered about just how many times his name had come up as an example during said rant.
He had been pleasantly surprised and somewhat stunned by the information. He’d never thought of himself as an ideal for the perfect man. 
Sure, he supposed he had a few attributes that some women might find appealing. He had a successful career and tried to keep in shape, though that was more for his job than vanity.
But he never imagined that anyone would look at him and think that he was a paradigm of their perfect man. Least of all you.
You were a brilliant profiler, exceptional in the field and able to hold your own in a fight when needed, but you were also caring with the victims and their families. You were witty and kind and easygoing. You were someone who smiled freely and laughed readily and did your best to cheer and encourage the team on tough cases.
Not someone who would think of stoic, hardass Aaron Hotchner as the perfect man.
Still, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from drifting to the window of his office throughout the day, seeking you out.
He thought back to when you joined the BAU and how quickly you became not only an essential part of the team but a much-welcomed member of their little family. Everyone adored you and Aaron himself had to admit that you had wormed your way into his heart.
He loved the time he got to spend with you when the team got together to unwind after a case and the little moments of levity you all shared in between working. He recalled the times he managed to make you laugh and the occasions where he found himself chuckling as well. You were easy to talk to and more often than not, the two of you fell into conversation whenever everyone else was either asleep or preferred to be left alone on the jet going to and from cases.
He genuinely enjoyed your company and found himself wishing he could enjoy it more often.
His eyes wandered to the bullpen again, zeroing in on you almost immediately. Prentiss and Morgan were standing by your desk when one of them said something that made you laugh.
Your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth opened to release an enchanting sound of delight. Aaron couldn’t look away and had to admit that you really were quite lovely. Inside and out.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat looking at you but knew it was longer than appropriate. He shook his head and forced himself to focus back on his work.
He managed to shove all thoughts of you from his mind for the remainder of the day until a soft knock sounded on his door late in the afternoon.
He didn’t bother to look up from the report he was notating after giving a gruff come in until he heard your voice.
Aaron couldn’t keep his eyes from darting up to meet yours before dropping them to the large stack of files in your arms.
He gestured for you to place them on the corner of his desk next to the ones Reid had deposited earlier and thought that would be his singular interaction with you for the day.
But then your caring side came out again and you sweetly offered to help him, a proposition that both filled him with fondness and nervousness.
After all his wayward thoughts about you throughout the day, he wasn’t sure if being in close proximity with you was a good idea or not. 
Aaron looked up at you again, the late afternoon sun enveloping you, enhancing your features, and his only thought was that he’d been wrong earlier. 
You weren’t just lovely. You were stunning.
In that moment, he was completely captivated by you and his thoughts ran rampant as he cataloged every minute detail of you. Your beauty, your kindness, your brilliance, and all the little things that made you you . Everything that endeared you to him.
But his thoughts came to a crashing halt when he realized that he was staring at you. He felt his face flush and he stammered as he gently declined your help.
You bid him a good night, but Aaron couldn’t take his eyes off the spreading blush on your cheeks. It kept his attention until you were out of sight.
He blinked and dropped his eyes back to the forgotten report in front of him, a slow smile creeping across his face.
He may not have meant to overhear the conversation that caused him to think about you all day, but he was starting to be glad he had. It seemed it was all he needed to face a few truths he had been in denial about for a long while now.
He was completely and utterly smitten with you.
Now, he just had to decide what to do about it. 
Aaron sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
Oh, he was in so much trouble.
673 notes · View notes
Starving
Summary: Your boss calls you into his office for an unexpected reason
Warnings: 18+, smut, cunnilingus, public sex, work place sex, established relationship, secret relationship, tiny touch of dirty talk if you squint, Aaron definitely leaves the blinds of his office window open
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau!f!reader
Word count: 549
A/N: This is my first Criminal Minds fic and I'm so excited to share it. Special shoutout to @cr1minalskies for helping me come up with the title 💗
When he called you into his office ten minutes ago you had no idea you would end up pressed up against the door, skirt bunched around your hips, and your bosses face between your legs.
“Aaron, ooooh fuck.” The wet sounds of him eating your soaked pussy filled the room, his tongue navigating your folds expertly, drawing a loud moan from your lips. You raked your nails over his scalp, your eyes fluttering shut as he groaned against your clit and slipped two fingers inside you.
He leaned back, looking up at you while he caught his breath and you couldn’t help but admire the way your juices glistened on his chin. “Fuck you taste good, sweet girl. I have been so distracted today thinking about it. You’re being such a good girl, staying quiet for me, letting me be selfish and take what I want from you in the middle of the day, right here where anyone could see us.” Pumping his fingers in and out of you at a ruthless pace he grinned as you whimpered softly, gently attempting to push his head back against your body. “Is my sweet girl ready to cum for me?” With your whimpered response and eager nod of your head he dove back between your legs and resumed his work, running his tongue through your folds and sucking at your clit until your legs began to shake around him.
“Oh…Aaron…I’m…” Your walls clenched around his fingers and you threw your hand over your mouth to muffle the telltale scream of his name you knew was about to accompany your orgasm.
He chuckled as his favorite sound in the world left your lips and your juices dripped down his hand. Continuing to slowly pump his hand he fucked you until you collapsed against the door of his office, a dazed, blissful look on your face. Slipping his fingers out of you he stood, bringing them up to your lips, a proud smile on his face as you obediently opened your mouth.
“That’s my good girl. Such a perfect little slut for me.” He praised you as you sucked him clean before leaning down to press a few soft kisses to your lips.
“Your chin is still wet, handsome.” You giggled as he looked around for something to wipe his face with, settling for his tie.
“I may have just ruined this tie but at least I’ll get to smell you on it all day. I love you so much sweet girl.” He gently fixed your panties and skirt, his hands lingering on your waist. “You’re so beautiful, have I told you that today? Oh, well no harm in telling you again. I wish you could stay in here with me all day, but you should probably get back to your desk before our luck runs out and someone interrupts us.” He bent to kiss you deeply, pulling you away from the safety of the door, waiting for you to take a breath, square your shoulders and morph back into the picture of professionalism. With a final kiss to your forehead and a small slap of your ass that promised more fun to come later, he opened the door.
"Get back to work, Agent."
You turned and gave him a wink. "Yes, Sir."
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heavenbarnes · 1 month
Text
Do not go gentle
Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader
Warnings/Contains: illusions to reader suffering "some" attack earlier, nightmares, reader and hotch are goofy idiots, inappropriate boss/employee relationship, unprotected pinv sex, dirty talk, pulling out, splash the back, mentions of m!masturbation, swearing, blasphemy, hotch has a size kink if you squint.
Word Count: 4.7k
Can you believe it? I've finally posted Hotch smut? I recently picked CM back up again and turns out he's still irresistible. Enjoy this, I did.
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You'd only been back a week, after having two off, and Hotch already wanted to see you in his office.
This normally wasn't a cause for concern, usually you actually liked seeing Hotch in his office. Usually because it was for praise, he'd remark good work you'd done or feed you back something good he'd heard about you from another department.
It was also in that low, calm voice and he'd always have a hint of a smile working it's way to the surface.
But this time it'd be different.
You'd been off for two weeks and everyone was worried it wasn't enough. You'd been, quite literally, through hell and back and nobody wanted to push you too hard to get back into the field.
But you'd reassured Strauss, reassured everyone, that this was the best thing for you. You'd been going stir crazy on your couch in your little apartment, watching everything the TV had on offer.
You needed to get back into things, you needed to get back to helping people.
So you made the slow ascent up to Hotch's office and quietly knocked on the door, feeling it slowly swing open against your hand. He looked up from his desk, eyes connecting with yours and his brow raising slightly.
"You wanted to see me, sir?
He waved you in with his hand, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk. You took a seat, doing your best to relax back into things and not let him know how nervous this had made you.
“I just wanted to see how you’re doing?”
You smiled, only gently with your gaze picking out flaws in the carpet of Hotch’s office. Nodding slightly, you lifted your head to lock eyes with him.
“Good, actually,” That was honest but you could tell he was a little hesitant to accept it. “I’m glad to be back with everyone and making some difference.”
“And how are you sleeping?” Clear and level headed as ever.
You hesitated, it was only a second but there was no getting past him. You knew you had to be honest now.
“Not well, that's only when I finally get to sleep, and when I do I’m right back there again.”
Hotch’s expression was as hard to read as ever but you could see a hint of sympathy? Sadness? Concern?
“And are you seeing a therapist?”
“I am! She’s great, she says the best way through it is to keep living until I have enough good memories to replace those ones.”
You thought there may have been a hint of a smile on his face but it was gone as quick as you saw it.
“If there is anything I can do to help you, just ask- or call.”
You gave him a smile, an earnest one and you nodded as you spoke. “I will, thank you, Sir.”
That went better than you expected. He didn't want to recall you back to the office for desk work, he was just checking in. You found yourself back to feeling how you normally did when you left his office.
Not really wanting to go.
-
Your apartment was dead quiet, you couldn't even hear the usual hum of your fridge as you left the bathroom. Your home was darker than you were used to, the moonlight struggling to get through the windows.
As you stepped into the kitchen, you felt the unmistakable air of company. Something was telling you that you weren't alone in the darkness. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as your fingers reached for the light switch.
So close, you were so close when you suddenly felt a strong grasp wrap around your wrist-
Awakening with a scream, you felt your heart fight it's way out of your chest. Your neighbours would probably be leaving another not-so-passive note in your mailbox about this.
Sitting up on the couch, you found your lights still on and your TV still playing some mindless background noise. Another nightmare taking your sleep right from you when you needed it most.
Your cellphone lay on your coffee table in front of you, black screen staring back at you. Mulling it over in your head, you weighed up your options.
On one hand, he quite literally said to call if you needed him. But on the other, he probably just said it as a courtesy, something everyone says.
Either way, before you could really talk yourself out of it- you were dialing Hotch’s number and pressing your phone to your ear.
Zoning out a little at the dial tone, you were quickly snapped back by the sound of his voicemail service, a robotic voice asking you to leave him a message.
It all happened too quickly, your lips were firing off before you could stop yourself.
“Ah- oh God- uh sorry, I’m sorry this is- oh it’s actually me by the way. I’m sorry I called it’s just- I uh had a nightmare. That sounds really lame now that I’m saying this and I really shouldn’t have called- uh I realise now you didn’t pick up because you’ve got a life or you're sleeping- but I'm not and I uh- shit-sorry- Sir, this might be a record for the world’s most pathetic voicemail so maybe take this to a museum- or to a lab to have me tested because what the hell is this- anyway- shit- sorry again and enjoy your night- see you at work tomorrow morning, please- uh please don’t mention this or I will have to go into hiding. Anyways- good night- sorry.”
Hanging up after the message, you threw your phone at the couch and watched it bounce off the cushions and onto the rug. Stuffing your palms into your eyes you let out a pained groan.
“Please throw your phone into the ocean!” You begged, getting up from the couch. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”
You had almost forgotten the cringiest voicemail known to man. With how focused you were on perfecting this terrible boxed mac and cheese, your mind was nearly elsewhere.
Just as you’d managed to find a bit of peace, a knock at your front door made you jump out of your skin. Doing your best to calm yourself down, you brought your bowl of macaroni with you to the front door to investigate.
One eye to the peep hole, the minute you saw the person on the other side- your heart dropped. Slowly twisting the lock, you pulled the door back to reveal one Aaron Hotchner.
A very cozy looking Aaron Hotchner.
“Sir-“
“I got your message, you had another nightmare?”
Your words got trapped up in your throat before you could get them out. “Uh yeah.”
“What about? Are you okay”
Clearing your throat, you did your best to focus your gaze on him, remind yourself that you were here- safe in your apartment and not back there.
“Same old, I’m alone in the dark and then suddenly- he’s there.”
There was that expression on Hotch’s face again, this time you were sure it was concern, genuine concern. It was unmistakable.
“I’m sorry this keeps happening to you.”
Just as you were about to brush it off, pretend like it wasn’t driving you crazy, you could see a faint smile appearing as he kept speaking.
“I couldn’t find a museum that'd accept your voicemail but I did find a 24 hour convenience store with ice cream.”
He lifted the bag in his right hand and you could faintly see the tub through the plastic. “Is that cookies? That’s my-“
“Your favourite, yeah it is- do you mind sharing?”
You felt a heat rise in your cheeks as you nodded, quickly realising you’d been having this whole conversation in the hallway.
“Oh yeah, come in- get out of my hallway would you?”
Hotch laughed, quietly, but he still laughed as he walked in. He went straight to the kitchen as you hovered by the couch.
“I can even share my gross looking boxed mac and cheese if you ask nicely.”
That got the rest of the laugh out of him, smiling over his shoulder as he made himself at home in your kitchen. Trying to give yourself something to do, you picked up the TV remote.
“Sorry, the TV’s just been on as background noise but we could watch a movie- only if you want- I don’t even know how long you-“
Thankfully, Hotch cut you off again. “I’d love to watch a movie, as long as it isn’t a cartoon, with dinosaurs or superheroes.”
As he rounded the couch and passed you a bowl of ice cream, you looked up at him with an incredulous expression on your face.
“I literally just rented ‘cartoon dinosaur superheroes’, what the hell?"
Your face broke out in a grin before you could even finish your dumb joke and it had an instant effect on Hotch.
“Yeah well, I preferred the TV series- it went into much more detail.”
Spoon in your mouth, you shot a look at your usually-very-serious boss. You weren’t used to seeing this many smiles- let alone hearing this many jokes from the man.
“Which one was your favourite? The green one?” You pushed the corny little joke a little further.
He glanced back in your direction as he lifted his own spoon to his lips. “I liked the one that put out fires.”
Immediately a grin broke out across your face as you couldn't contain your giggles. You quieted down to a hum as you nodded at his quip. “There totally would be one that put out fires.”
Leaning back into your couch, you picked up your feet to lean them on your coffee table.
“You can put your feet up by the way, I don’t mind.”
As quickly as you said it, Hotch was reaching out a long arm to wave at your legs. “I do, get your feet off the table.”
Looking at him in (slight) faux-shock, you shook your head as he did his best to fight off an impending chuckle.
“Excuse me? This is my house!”
Hotch’s smile only grew. “Hardly a house, it’s a living room with a bed in the back of it.”
Stunned expression painted across your face, a series of unintelligible noises fell past your lips as it was your turn to try not to laugh.
“Alright then, next time I have a trauma induced nightmare then I’ll be coming to your house.”
“Perfect, I’ll have the boxed macaroni cheese and dinosaurs.”
“Great, and I’ll pick apart every stylistic choice you’ve ever made in.”
Hotch finished off another spoonful of ice cream as he shrugged. “I think you’ll find I’m a very skilled interior decorator.”
You cocked your head towards him, eyes narrowed as you played on the bit. “Suuuurely not?”
“I am, and don’t call me Shirley.”
Eyes wide in excitement as he said the words, you couldn’t believe Aaron Hotchner was a certified funny-guy. Your stoic boss, your always knowing what to say, what to do, boss. You quickly reached for the TV remote off the table as the next thought struck you.
“That’s the one, I wonder if they're streaming Airplane!”
It wasn’t like you even lasted the first 20 minutes before you fell asleep. You felt so warm, so cozy, so at peace that you hadn’t even realised you were drifting off until you did.
Hotch didn’t mind either, just happy to see you finally sleeping. His right arm stayed firmly around your side as your cheek and hand laid against his chest, snoring only quietly.
He smiled from above you, tilting his neck just enough to gently rest his chin against the top of your head.
That night you dreamed, for the first time in weeks. You were in your apartment, but the lights were shining and the moon had cast a glow over the room. You could tell you weren’t alone, you felt the company, but you couldn't find it to be scared.
Somebody else was in your apartment and he remembered your favourite ice cream.
-
As you rushed through the door of the conference room, all eyes switched from the round table fell on you. Within an instant, heat was rising up your cheeks.
“Nice of you to join us.” Morgan teased as you slipped into a seat next to Spencer.
“Sorry,” You mumbled, scrambling to grab some of the files in front of you. “Slept in.”
A simple sentence quieted everyone back down as expressions softened across all of them.
“Slept?” JJ asked quietly, full attention on you. “You’re sleeping again?”
A smile cracked at the corner of your lips, nodding gently as you tried to keep your head down. “Yeah, first time in weeks last night.”
Everyone let you off the hook after that, it was all back to work and start filing the reports from the last case. As you all shuffled out to head back to your desks, you heard a voice behind you call your name.
Leaving just you and Hotch in the room, you felt that same heat creep right back up your neck. You stepped over towards him, only bringing yourself to meet his eyes once you were right in front of him.
“Sir, listen, about last night-“
“I’m sorry,” He stopped your babbling before you could even start. “I was out of line.”
Not what you were expecting. This morning had been hazy, Hotch slipping out with a sore neck from sleeping upright. You not even waking as he left.
But this was still-
“I shouldn’t have let myself get as close as I did,” He continued, his tone back to as professional as always. “It won’t happen again.”
“It won’t?”
Hotch couldn’t bare the look on your face. Eyes dropping in confusion and bottom lip daring to wobble. He had to steel himself, he had to walk out of that room before he did something that'd cost his career.
-
He'd completely closed down any chance for the two of you. You'd sort-of-kind-of resigned yourself to the fact it was never going to happen, but having it come crashing down right in front of you hurt more than you'd expected.
You didn't realise that you'd designated a space to him in the centre of your chest until you felt it break. Thinking back on it now, it will completely foolish to think your boss would ever dare to pursue anything with you.
But there was last night.
You'd woken briefly, just the once, and you'd felt his arm around your waist. You'd heard the beat of his heart just under your ear. You could've sworn you'd felt him press his lips against the top of your head.
That was all said and done now. If you'd known it was your only chance, you probably would've held onto it for just a little longer. You thought a hot shower after a long day would help to dissipate your feelings, but you still felt it weighing heavy on your mind.
Shuffling to the kitchen, you decided there was no other choice but to get on with things. What'd your therapist said? Keep moving forward until you have more good memories to replace the other ones?
Besides, you'd gotten on just fine before, without him. There was no reason for this to change anything.
Even after you knew how it felt to fall asleep beside him.
Swinging open the box freezer, you scanned the shelf for something to eat before your eyes fell on the scene of the crime. Last night's ice cream stared back at you with cruel intent.
You decided you'd make a spectacle of it, retrieving it from the freezer to stab a spoon right through the middle of it. The first mouthful stung, the rest was just...ice cream.
Dragging your feet towards the couch, you were nearly close enough to collapse into comfort when a knock at the door sent a fright through you that you'd never get used to. Cautiously, you pressed your eye back to the peep hole and screwed up your face in confusion.
"Sir?" You asked as the door swung open, finding Hotch back in that same place on your doorstep.
"Listen, I'm sorry-"
It was your turn to cut him off. "You really don't have to be. Like you said, it shouldn't have happened."
You'd been hesitant to look him in the eye as you spoke, roaming the spotted ceiling of your apartment hall instead. But as you shifted to catch his eyes, you found him- preocupied.
Hotch's eyes trailed further down, serious expression fixed to his features as his eyes moved to your legs. Only when you went to follow his gaze did you realise.
You'd answered the door fresh out the shower. Skin still a little damp, only in a t-shirt and a thin pair of panties.
You were standing in front of your boss in next to nothing.
And he looked like he wanted to eat you whole (he did).
He managed to clear his throat, to tear his eyes off your body and back to your face. Mustering up the courage, tensing his fists and relaxing his shoulders, he began speaking before he could think.
"I am sorry and I need to say it. I overstepped a boundary here and I put my own feelings for you over everything else and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable-"
"Hotch-"
"I thought I was fine with keeping this in my head and I never wanted to-"
"Hotch-"
"But I just need to tell you that this wont change anything with-"
"Sir."
Finally, your interjection managed to cut through and he stopped himself. "Hotch, you've never asked me what I actually want."
His features softened a tiny amount, his fists unfurling as he willed himself to relax the rest of himself. "What do you want?"
Taking a long stride towards him, you found yourself nearly chest to chest with the man. Your hand gently ran his tie through your fingers, twisting a little to grasp it for leverage.
"You."
Hotch sucked in a deep breath, his head tilted towards you but his eyes closed. "Please don't say that."
You looked up at him from under your lashes, finding him slowly opening his eyes to watch you move even closer to him.
"Got no reason to lie to you, sir."
You heard his breath catch in his throat as Hotch moved his hands, until they were just and only resting on your hips. You felt the heat radiating off his large palms, closing in until they spanned across your lower back.
"I really shouldn't do this." His voice was a hush, he was still trying to talk himself out.
Not like you were going to let him.
"Then let me."
Closing the space between the two you, your lips pressed against the hard line of his until he opened up for you. You lead things just long enough for him to get comfortable, falling into motion and his tongue pushing forward into your mouth.
His hands tightened, gripping onto your waist like he might lose you if he let you go. Walking you back into your apartment, he blindly kicked his leg back to shut the door. Surging forward, he had the backs of your thighs against the arm of the couch.
Pulling back to take a look at you, his eyes moved to you swollen lips. His thumb came up to brush against your lower lip, gently gripping it between his fingers.
"Pretty, pretty girl," He sighed, you could feel his thigh slotting between your legs. "Such a good girl."
You couldn't stop it, the heady little moan that fell from your mouth at his words. Mixed with the soft feeling of his suit pants pressing to your core, undoubtedly you were leaving some kind of mess on the expensive trousers.
Hotch flexed his thigh, enjoying the feeling of you grinding yourself against his leg like a desperate slut. He watched as you tipped your head back, exposing the column of your throat to him.
Ducking his head, he pressed his lips in a line down your neck and biting gently at the join of your shoulder. "Get up on the couch."
His voice was a rumble in his chest, but there was a command in there that had you moving without being told twice. You went to sit down on it, but Hotch caught you and spun you slightly till you were falling onto the cushions on your knees.
Arms slung over the back of the couch and ass pointed out, you looked back over your shoulders with hazy eyes. Hotch slipped his suit jacket off, throwing it across a chair as he started to roll up his sleeves.
It was so simple, such an easy move but it had an effect on you like nothing else. His strong arms came into view and the veins on his hands flexed as he rolled the fabric. You could feel the damp spot growing on your panties.
This was a different Hotch than the one that stayed over the other night. This was closer to the one that sat behind his desk, stoic and unshakeable. Part of you knew the desperation that was hiding behind the stern look on his face.
You two really had one shot at this. The voice in the back of your head was telling you to enjoy this, it'd never happen again.
Snapping you from your thoughts, you felt two long fingers run up the length of your cunt. Even through the thin fabric of your underwear, you could feel his rough grasp as he gently began to rub at your clit.
Your head lolled forward, a gasp sounding from your chest as you backed your hips towards his touch. As he slid your panties to the side, fingers now running right through your wetness, you could hear the sound of him drawing down his fly.
"I've tried so hard- from the moment I met you-" The words fell from his lips, his knee coming up on the couch to get closer. "I've thought about this moment every night."
Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head, feeling his firm chest press to your back as his words spurred you on. You could picture it in your mind, your boss in the shower, alone in his bed- his hand fisting at his cock as he thought of you.
Pretty you, sweet and kind you. Always the first to do what he says, to look at him with those glassy eyes and say "yes, sir." To him, this was inevitable.
It was only ever a matter of time.
Swiping up the slick from between your legs, you looked back quickly to see him running it across the head of his cock. Your jaw dropped slightly, seeing the size of him as he dragged his hand down the length of it.
"Fuck- that's big."
You didn't even mean to say it out loud. Hotch chuckled as your words, his brows raising slightly as he did.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," He cooed, lining himself up with your entrance. "We'll make it fit."
Your eyes squeezed shut and a drawn out, frankly pornographic, moan fell out. Hotch groaned deep in his chest as he sunk into you, feeling the tight grip of your soaking cunt.
Feeling the press of his lips on your shoulder blade, he made it in fully before he stilled. He was giving you a moment, letting you catch your breath despite the ever-present need to absolutely wreck you.
Reaching back, you franticly tapped at his hip. Quiet pleas of "move, please move" filling the space around you. He was kind, he gave you exactly what you needed as he began to roll his hips into yours.
One of his hands firmly held your hip, the other ran underneath your t-shirt so he could grip at your chest. He cupped one of your breasts, rolling it round in his large palm as he groaned into the crook of your neck.
"God- you feel so good, sweetheart."
You whimpered for him, a pathetic whine sounding from you as you bucked your hips back against him. The hand on your hip began to slip forward, fingers coming around to rub against your clit.
From the speed in which he was fucking into you, the frantic movements of his fingers, the clip of his breath- he was trying hard to hold on. He was doing whatever he could to keep his cool but he was finding it increasingly difficult.
The prettiest girl he'd ever laid his eyes on, the subject of all his inappropriate desires was knelt in front of him. You were somehow tighter than he'd dreamed, somehow sounded sweeter than he'd imagined.
You were calling out his name, chants of "Aaron, fuck, Aaron-" that were no doubt slinking through the thin walls of this apartment and keeping the neighbours up.
He didn't care, he'd get you to tell the whole fucking city if he could. When you felt this good, when you looked this pretty for him? He'd throw his whole career to the fucking wind if it meant he got to do this whenever he wanted.
Maybe- maybe not that far. But Hotch wasn't really in the position to be thinking logically right now. Not when you were turning back over your shoulder to capture his lips, moaning straight down his throat as he continued to sink his hips into you.
"Fuck- you're so deep, sir."
Hotch could've come right then, there was no way he could keep it together when you were saying it like that. He knew good and well that this is why this was never meant to happen.
How was he meant to go back to work and deal with you calling him that, when he's heard just how good it could sound?
He sped up his fingers, messy circles rubbing at your clit as your whole body began to tense. He felt your back arching, pushing back into his chest as you cried out.
"God- I'm gonna'- Aaron- I'm gonna' cum-" Was all you could manage before you clenched around him.
Suddenly, your vice grip released and you were falling limp against the couch with a whimper. Hotch fucked you through it, feeling the shocks wracking your body as he drew out your orgasm as long as he could.
Hotch watched over you, seeing the blissed out expression on your face as you came for him. He looked down to see the way your cunt fluttered around him, a wet mess left on the shaft of his cock.
Taking mental note, he knew that he'd never be able to forget this. His one chance to have you like this, to hold you and feel you gripped around him. The sight of you took over him, his hips stuttering as he gripped hard on your hips.
You opened your eyes just in time to see his head tipped back, strong arms and chest straining against his dress shirt. Hotch's lips parted as a quiet moan of your name ripped from his chest.
Quickly, he slipped himself out as he stroked himself over your ass. Long fingers pulled your panties down around your thighs as hot ropes of cum painted your lower back and behind. Your eyes were growing hazier but you kept them open to watch as he did it.
You were slumped over the back of the couch, high dissipating through your body as you heard him tuck himself back into his trousers. You could hear him moving away, but soon he returned with a warm cloth against your back.
Slipping your panties back into place, he turned you around gently and settled you into his side. Right back where things had started, your sleepy body falling into him.
You both knew it, that this would be the last time. This would never go anywhere else. But there was part of you that'd become content with that, getting used to the strong beat of his heart beside your ear.
Feeling a strong hand brush against your face, this time you were sure of it. His lips pressed softly against the top of your head as you began to drift off asleep.
You knew he'd been gone again when you woke up, you'd both show up to work like all of this hadn't happened. But that was okay, you felt the sleep overtaking you- a feeling that you'd missed.
You slept absolutely soundly, for the second time in weeks.
701 notes · View notes
show-your-fangs · 9 months
Note
I request very politely, you better continue the camgirl story with all the smut there is or I'm suing 😫 Some proper thigh action would be nice 🤭
there's no thigh riding in this one, but it will happen i promise my darling, i owe you and i will deliver.
The Contract | Sugar Daddy!Aaron Hotchner
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The Secrets We Keep (a Bunny and Clyde story) - Part Two
Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Aaron Hotchner x BAU/cam girl!Reader
Words: 5.6k
CW: 18+, mdni, nsfw.
Tags/warnings: D/s relationship, master!hotch x sub!reader, sex work (is real work), power imbalance/play, reader works at the bau and is a secret cam girl, hotch is a customer, pet names (bunny, sweet girl, good girl), (semi public) mutual masturbation, cum play, aftercare (is important istfg).
a/n: this fucking series and i...holy shit i cannot get enough of it. it's all i think about every day, i just can't stop thinking about them. my apologies to moments, it has been dethroned in my heart.
Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.
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His lips were on you just as quickly as his hands. 
It was overwhelming, your legs practically going numb as he pulled you into his room, all you could think to do was desperately try to deepen the kiss. He didn’t hold back, he couldn’t hold back, even if he wanted to, and thankfully you didn’t want that either. 
You opened your mouth for him as his hands ran down your back to grab your ass, greedy, possessive, as if it had always belonged to him. He pulled you off the ground, maneuvering your legs to wrap around his waist. You obeyed without question, your legs holding onto him tightly as your arms hooked behind his neck. 
It was a fervor of tongues clashing, teeth grazing, hands digging into soft skin. His finger nails dug harshly into your plush ass, eliciting a squeal from your throat. He groaned into the kiss in response, swiftly walking back towards the king size bed in his room and slamming you down on it. 
You moaned into his mouth, the roughness only getting you going even more. He was sure he was living a dream, his heart beating so fast it was sure to explode. He pressed his body down over yours, enveloping you whole with his weight, keeping you trapped between him and the mattress.
It wasn’t that he thought you would escape, it was more that he didn’t even want to give you the option. You ground your hips into his crotch then, desperate hands trying to rip his shirt off his back. 
He pulled back from the kiss, making sure to bite down on your bottom lip and tug as far as he was able before you tensed under him. Only then did he let go, swiftly pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere in the dark room. 
You were panting hard, your ears were ringing, your chest and face were most definitely flushed crimson. You could feel him press his crotch into yours, hard, stiff, warm. So warm it almost made you melt into him. 
Your hands immediately traced over his back, fingers gliding over every muscle, every ride, every dimple. His own returned to your body just as hungrily, his fingers gently tracing down your chin, your neck, your arms, your sides, before they made their home on your hips, squeezing them experimentally to gauge your reaction.
You hummed, running your own arms down his chest to pull him closer to you once more. This was everything, it was too much, having your boss so close, so warm against your core, so desperate and needy for you, just like user1102, was making your head feel dizzy with pleasure.
“Please, Master,” you whined. “I need—”
Your stomach growled loudly then, reminding you that you were actually starving.
You couldn’t help the giggle that erupted out of your mouth and into his, his own lips curling into a soft smile as he pressed them to yours one final time before he detached himself completely from your body. 
You sat yourself up, eyes watching his every move like a hawk. He turned on the light, the faint glow from the one at the entrance of his room not enough as he now needed the entire room to be bathed in it, to sober him up enough to be able to restrain himself from taking you right then and there. 
He turned to face you the second that it did, to fully take you in, to make sure that it hadn’t been a dream. You were still there, still panting softly, still looking at him with those round, expressive eyes he adored. 
“When did you figure it out?” you asked him softly, clearly eager to fill the overwhelming silence that had taken over the room. 
He walked over to the mini bar and poured a glass of water before he finally addressed you. 
“I started to suspect the day you hit your foot at the office.”
Your eyes widened immediately, your cheeks flushing in response as you remembered that you’d seen him that same night…privately. You fell back on the bed, hands covering your face in embarrassment. 
“No!” you whined. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
You felt him walk back over to the bed and sit on the other side, far away and yet incredibly close. 
“I wasn’t sure,” he replied, gently nudging you to look at him. 
You took a short, steadying breath before you let your hands slip away from your face, eyes finally adjusting and making out the glass of water and sandwich he’d bought for himself in his hands. 
You smiled brightly, the prospect of Hotch, of your boss, of user1102 taking care of you, made your heart flutter. You got up to your knees, carefully taking the two items before you settled criss cross on the bed in front of him. 
“What about now?” you asked him in between gulps of water, remembering all the other times he’d watched you drink it diligently after a particularly demanding scene. “What do you want now that you know?”
He took the glass back from you and placed it on the bedside table once it was empty. “Good girl,” the words spilled out of his mouth out of habit and you immediately stilled, the heat in your lower belly slowly starting to build back up.
He noticed your reaction, subtle and yet it made him feel like the most powerful person in the world. 
“We shouldn’t,” he stated as a matter of fact. “Not right now.”
Your face immediately fell into a deep pout, almost unconsciously looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. He sighed deeply, looking down to break the spell you clearly had him under, his hands clutching onto the bed covers tightly. 
“The things I want to do to you, sweet girl,” his voice was strained, hoarse, heavy on his chest. You were practically buzzing with anticipation, one second away from allowing your judgement to lapse and leap across the bed into his arms. 
But you knew he was right. You knew you shouldn’t rush into this, as much as you trusted him, as much as you knew him, as much as he made your heart practically leap out of your chest with a simple glance.
You didn’t have a lot of time, your mind already racing with excuses to give Emily if you found her still awake when you got back to the room. 
“I want,” he started, voice calm, collected, clear. “I want to be your Dom, bunny.” He watched your reaction to his words like a hawk. Your entire body tensed, all the memories of your encounters over the past few months crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Only you weren’t drowning, but rather being filled with so much air it was overwhelming.
Your gaze met his, the rest of his face devoid of any emotion, and yet his brown eyes were overflowing with them. He was terrified, positively horror-stricken about how you may react, about losing not only your friendship but also the outlet of release he’d grown to depend on. 
But instead, you just beamed at him. You threw your things on the mattress before you shot back up to your knees and shuffled across the bed towards him. 
He let you, his heart going so fast he couldn’t feel his arms or legs. You sat yourself over his lap, arms wrapping around his neck again before your lips were on his. It was a soft kiss, so soft he almost thought it hadn’t happened. But then it did again, and again, and again, and again, and soon enough you were devouring him in the sweetest kisses he’d ever experienced.
His heart swelled, his hands shooting up to wrap around your back, pressing you tightly against him once more. “Is that a yes?”
“Enthusiastically,” you smiled before leaning back down to place another kiss on his now puffy lips. 
And just like that, he had everything.
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You returned to your room soon after, sandwich in hand and dizzy with happiness. He’d asked you to text him when you made it back, a small test to gage just how enthusiastic you were about this, and you hadn’t disappointed him, going as far as to reassure him that you really, really, really wanted this.
Aaron couldn’t sleep that night, he couldn’t get his mind to stop racing, his heart to calm down, his excitement to dwindle enough for him to even close his eyes. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was more powerful than after he’d run a marathon, and he needed to channel it into something or else he was going to go crazy.
He thought about touching himself, about relieving the ache in his crotch, but he’d told you not to even think about touching yourself, wanting to frustrate you just enough until the two of you entered an official agreement. And so he didn’t do it either, it was only fair.
Instead he sat himself at the small desk that came with the room and he wrote. He wrote everything he could think of, everything he wanted to do to you, how he wanted to take you, how he wanted to take care of you, how he wanted to punish you, how he wanted to dominate you. 
He wrote until his alarm sounded and the sun started to fill the world outside in a faint warm glow. He wrote until Dave was knocking on his door to make sure he was alright. It was only then, when he’d finished writing everything, that he snapped back into reality, got himself ready for the day, and stepped out to meet the rest of the team. 
He’d made sure to keep you as far away from him the entire day, not trusting himself to not linger, to not lose focus, to not give himself a single reason to take you in the precinct bathroom. 
You had a suspect in custody by early afternoon, and he’d made sure to keep you in the precinct with Reid, where you were safe. He was sure you knew why he’d made the call, it was pretty obvious and would definitely be one of the things that the two of you had to discuss. 
But it didn’t matter, at least not right now. You didn’t even think to disobey, didn’t even think about the fact that he was definitely doing this because of everything that had happened the night before, didn’t even begin to let the new dynamic between the two of you settle. You’d been distracted all day, desperately trying to not allow your feelings for him to show. 
It was dark by the time you boarded the plane back to Quantico, everyone pretty much determined to get some rest before you made it back. The couch was the first to go, Morgan and Reid fighting over it like children until Morgan won out, immediately plopping down on it and turning his headphones on high. 
Rossi and Spencer took up the single seats facing the bathroom and kitchen while Emily and JJ took up a double seater, leaving you and Aaron at the head of the plane alone. You sat next to the window by yourself, as far away from JJ and Emily as you could just in case he had other plans than sleeping. 
It took everything in him to not sit down next to you right away, the action would’ve been too obvious with all the empty seats around. And so for the first twenty minutes of the flight, you sat alone, waiting, trying to distract yourself by looking out the window. 
He’d been staring at you relentlessly, impatiently waiting for the plane to stabilize in the air before thinking about approaching. He’d sat himself down at the perfect angle to watch you, his laptop light being the only one illuminating the otherwise pitch black plane. 
He’d been reading the contract again, making sure that whatever he’d written in his sleep deprived and incredibly horny state was actually coherent, and properly worded before sending it to you. 
Once he was sure everyone else was asleep, once he made sure that everything was worded as clearly as possible since there was no need for any twisted legal jargon, once he made sure that he was calm and collected enough, he hit send and watched as your phone lit up on the table beside you. 
Your attention was finally brought back to the room, your hand shakily picking up the device before you saw what he’d sent you. He’d been smart to send it to your encrypted chat instead of to your official email, but it didn’t make it any less daunting, the lines between you and Aaron, and bouncingbunny1 and user1102 officially blurring. 
You didn’t even dare glance in his direction, terrified of what it would do to you when you caught a glimpse of just how pent up he was. Instead you opened the file and began reading. 
To say he was thorough was an understatement. You knew Aaron never did things halfway, never did things without thinking them through, and he’d clearly been thinking about this for a while. 
He’d confessed early on in your private sessions that he’d never done anything like this before, never demanded complete control over someone in the way that he wanted over you. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious, willing to put in the work and learn. 
You’d spent the entire first month just learning each other’s limits, him learning yours and discovering his own. By the second month he was more confident, eager to try things he’d found, determined to start having fun after setting up the foundation of trust between the two of you. 
You had been enthusiastic from the start, never actually having someone exert this amount of dominance over you before. Sure, you’d had a few partners who were rough and liked to sometimes use you in the way you truly craved, but it had never been like this. You’d never gotten to explore the lifestyle this fully, with rules and requirements and clauses in place to protect yourself and your partner.  
By the third month you’d gotten into a very comfortable routine with user1102, knew what to expect from your sessions, and it was through that knowledge that you somehow became even more excited to meet with him.
But there was just so much you could do, so much he could do to keep things interesting, to fill the ache in your chest, to fill the ache in your core. Your fingers had quickly become not enough so you’d started to use toys, and after a while even that wasn’t enough. You wanted him, needed him, craved him, in the flesh, to do the things he’d been making you do to yourself.
There had been a particularly tough case few weeks back that had you aching and desperate. You’d made it back home worked up, almost as badly as the first time you’d met him, and all you could think about was needing to be fucked so hard you forgot your name. 
You were so close to biting the bullet, so close to asking him to meet face to face, so close to begging for him to come use you. But you knew you shouldn’t, knew that no matter how much you trusted him, you’d never seen his face, didn’t even know his name, and that could’ve been disastrous. 
You didn’t realize you’d started rubbing your thighs together until you accidentally tapped your clit against the rough hem of your underwear. Your mouth was watering, your chest was practically heaving, your eyes clouded in lust as you read through the list of kinks that he had so thoroughly provided. 
It was long, from calmer ones like spanking to the rougher ones he’d told you he fantasized about like collars and leashes. He was so perfect, your kinks lining up so perfectly that it almost felt like he’d been made just for you…or maybe you’d been made just for him, for each other. 
You knew he was watching you from across the aisle, knew he was making sure to catch every reaction, every thought, every time your breath hitched. He needed to see it all, needed to know that you were consenting enthusiastically every step of the way, because even an ounce of hesitation and he would put a stop to it immediately.
bouncingbunny1: Master?
You bit down on your lip as you watched him pick up his phone, his attention off you and back on you virtually exhilarating. 
user1102: Yes, bunny?
bouncingbunny1: May I please please please please pretty please touch myself?
He fought the urge to slam his laptop and cross the aisle towards you. Instead he took a steadying breath, daring to look at you, your puppy eyes and disarming pout barely visible in the low light of your phone screen. 
But the little that he saw was enough to make him lose it, to finally realize that it didn’t matter just how much he wanted to be in control of you, you would always be in control of him first. Whatever you wanted, he would give to you, and the thought didn’t scare him, instead it only made him want you more. 
user1102: Go to the bathroom and wait for me in there.
He watched as you locked your phone, plunging you in darkness once more before you slid out of your seat and made your way to the back of the plane. He waited impatiently for a few minutes, the anticipation of what he was about to do, to make you do, to see, finally in the flesh, made his heart beat rise like bile up his throat.
He finally stood, slowly yet surely walking across the plane, carefully making sure that no one had woken up, that no one knew what was happening. He didn’t need the looks, didn’t need wandering eyes to put two and two together, wanted to keep this just between the two of you, the privacy you deserved to figure whatever this was out the most important thing in his mind. 
He stood in front of the unlocked bathroom for a second, steadying himself, getting out of his head and allowing him to slip into the role he’d been dreaming of playing for so long. 
The bathroom was barely big enough for two people, but he squeezed in there regardless, his back pressed to the door tightly so that he didn’t touch you. You were just as overwhelmed as he was, your chest rising and falling deeply, your eyes glossed over with desire, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt. 
He smirked to himself, the knowledge that you had gone to the bathroom before you left the precinct and changed into a skirt because you knew some version of this exact thing would happen almost enough to make him want to deny you of the pleasure. 
He wanted to keep this professional, like it had been every time he called. One last time for old time’s sake, one last time before you were both responsible about this and discussed everything that he’d just sent you, one last time before you signed your names on a piece of paper that made you his officially. Only then would he allow himself to touch you, to worship you, to give you everything you wanted. 
“On the counter,” he told you, eager to put some space between the two of you. 
He watched you like a hawk, starving eyes following every twitch, every breath, every movement diligently. Your brain processed his words and you stepped forward, jumping on the vanity and waiting patiently for his next command. It had been like this for a while, this understanding of each other, of receiving and accepting.
He moved to face you, so close to you, to your open legs, to where he desperately craved to be. And still far enough that you were starting to get desperate, needy, whiny with each second that his hands weren’t on you.
“Bunch your skirt around your waist,” he continued, his strong hand coming up to rest over his growing erection. 
You did as he said, eyes never leaving his. Your hands shook over your sheer tights, almost eagerly hooking under them and pulling them down your legs. But you stopped yourself, returning your hand back to its place against the sink to hold you up. 
“Good girl,” he praised, his hand squeezing himself through his pants. That’s when you caught onto his game, caught onto what he was going to ask you to do since that was exactly what you had asked after all. “You can take them off now.”
You’ve never taken off your tights faster. There was always an issue, always something they got hooked on or an area where they stuck to your skin. But tonight they slid off your legs without so much as a beat too late. You tossed them to the side hurriedly and were met with an amused chuckle from the man in front of you. 
But as much as he was trying to appear calm and collected, his hand had tightened his movements, his grip on himself clearly eager as well. 
“Fuck,” you whispered, clearly enjoying the sight, the sight that he’d never allowed you to see, the sight that you’ve been fantasizing about for months. 
“Go ahead, make yourself cum, bunny,” he groaned, back pressing against the wall farther to hold himself up. 
Your cheeks immediately flushed crimson, embarrassment washing over you in burning hot waves. It was silly, you knew that. You’d done that and so much more for him, because of him for months. He’s probably seen you in as many positions, with as many toys, cumming in just as many ways — and yet this is what got you. 
Make yourself cum. Make yourself cum while your boss watched you, make yourself cum while user1102 touches himself, make yourself cum while Aaron held your stare in his and completely shattered whatever platonic friendship the two of you have built for the past year.
“Don’t get shy on me now, sweet girl,” he cooed, his hand stilling its movements as an incentive for you to start yours.
You took one final steadying breath before you plunged, damning every self conscious thought you had into the darkest pits of your brain.
Your left hand slid down your stomach, teasing, making him pay for what he’s doing to you, as you pulled your legs up on the vanity, knees bent towards your chest.
His eyes glimmered in the light of the bathroom, his mouth slowly hanging open in anticipation, practically salivating for you. 
You pressed your back against the mirror as your fingers hooked into your panties, pulling the completely soaked material to the side, exposing your slick folds to him. You watched him eagerly as he took in a sharp breath, his eyes darting between yours and your heat. 
He was quick to reward you, his own hands unbuckling his belt unbearably slow. Two could play at this game, but neither of you had the patience for it right now. Your right hand flew right to your pussy, fingers quickly tracing the length of your folds, gathering your wetness towards your clit. 
You moaned, just for him, just to remind him of what he should be doing as well, and he wasted no time sliding his zipper down and greedily pulling his cock out of his underwear. 
You forgot how to breathe for a second, your brain struggling to process what it was seeing. He was big, bigger than your fantasies had concocted, bigger than you ever though he could’ve been, bigger than you knew what to do with. He smirked at the attention, stepping forward to bring it back to his face. 
“Spit in my hand, bunny,” he extended his open palm to you and you could’ve sworn your head had exploded. 
It took you a second to decide what to do. Your right hand returned to your aching entrance, gathering as much of your arousal as you could before you slapped your slick covered fingers against his palm. 
He groaned loudly, so much so that it made your walls clench around nothing as even more leaked out of you. Before he could pull back, you brought his hand forward. You gathered as much saliva as you could in your mouth before leaning forward, eyes staring up at him filled with innocence, and you let the spit fall through your pursed lips onto his hand, mixing with the rest of your juices. 
“Oh bunny, you’re killing me,” he moaned, his now drenched hand wrapping around his cock swiftly. 
You smiled up at him, prideful, filthy, lustful, before your hand returned to its previous motions. You focused your energy on your clit now, slow and tight circles, matching the pace he subconsciously set. 
As much as Aaron had revered to watch you pleasure yourself through his screen, that had been nothing compared to the real deal, to having you displayed in front of him, to knowing that he could reach out and touch you if he wanted. 
“Finger yourself with your other hand,” he said through gritted teeth, the roughness of his hand around his sensitive tip almost pushing him over the edge. But he wasn’t done, he didn’t want to be, at least not yet.
You did as he wanted, making sure to open your legs wider so that he could watch as your fingers slid in and out of you. He moaned then, the sound practically vibrating in tandem with the airplane around you, making you almost feel him all around you.
He picked up his pace, strokes becoming more and more aggressive as he encouraged you to do the same. He was close, you could tell, and it swelled your chest with pride.
Usually you had to hear him closely, listen for those grunts that always let you know he was getting there. But seeing how his jaw tensed, how his breathing strained, how his hand squeezed harder around himself — you could not take it, your own tension building.
He knew that reaction well. He’d seen you wear it many times before. Your fingers were curling meticulously against your g-spot, your other ones picking up their pace over your clit while your thighs began to close together, seeking to relieve the tension. 
But what made it even sweeter was the way he could now see your desire plastered all over your face, like you were the easiest book he’d ever read.
You looked at him, pleading, a broken shell of the confident agent he’d gotten the chance to know, turned into the slut he knew you could be. He took another step forward, his erection unbelievably close to your entrance, one more step and his tip would be in you. 
You let out a gasp, your gaze frozen on the minuscule distance between your bodies. You wanted him to move forward, needed him to fill you up and relief the ache inside of you. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t and you knew it well.
Even then, in your desperation, you admired his determination to do things the right way. You both needed release, both craved it desperately, but he was not about to jeopardize your future relationship, one that needed to be built on of trust and communication and respect, for a quickie in the jet’s bathroom.
“Cum for me, bunny,” he told you, his voice gruff. You whimpered, allowing yourself to tune into the wave and ride it until it exploded within you. 
You moaned loudly, your fingers not letting up their movements as you rode out your orgasm. Your walls clenched around your fingers, a gush of wetness pouring out of you to coat them in your slick. 
His own strokes stilled for a moment, watching you come undone, savoring the fruits of his labor, waiting for you to come down from your high. It was only when your fingers slid out of you and you stilled your moments completely that he returned to his own. 
“Can I cum in your panties, sweet girl?” he asked, his words getting tangled up in the unholy sounds spilling out of him. 
You were hazy, your mind desperately trying to hold onto reality, onto your wits, onto the sound of his voice because you were terrified that if you didn’t, this would all disappear into thin air, back into the dream that you’d had for so long. 
“Yes,” you managed, your shaky hand lifting up the front of your panties so that he could spill his seed over you. 
His movements became erratic then, strokes became tugs, and just as quickly as it had began, it ended. He fully stepped into your personal space, his other hand wrapping around your thigh to keep you in place as he emptied himself into the wet cotton of your panties. 
Your slick mixed with his spend, hot and heavy on your skin, clearly meant to mark you as his. He moaned into your ear, low, unhinged, euphoric, and you couldn’t help but whimper in return. 
You were so far gone, so little and malleable, so much so that you knew that whatever he asked you to do then, you’d do it without question. Your head fell on the crook of his neck, labored breaths filling the room as he gently unhooked your fingers from your underwear to place it back to cover you. 
He couldn’t stop looking at the white substance seeping through your panties, the squishy and lewdly wetness against your skin making him excited to fill your pussy up until you were leaking him everywhere. 
You stayed like that for a few minutes. He knew he couldn’t keep you like that, couldn’t ask you to walk back out there and act as though nothing had happened, couldn’t risk you getting a rash because of his own ego. 
At some point he tucked himself back into his boxers, getting himself back to the pristine put together image that he always was. He waited until you’d calmed down a little more before he cupped your face with his hands, pulling you to look at him again. 
“Bunny, I’m going to get you all cleaned up, alright?” 
You nodded, eyes sleepily blinking shut longer and longer. He set you back against the mirror, grabbing one of the towels and wetting it before he gently ran it over your hands and the inside of your thighs. 
He set the towel to the side before he hooked his index fingers in your panties, pulling them down your legs before tossing them into the sink. He cleaned your pussy gently, making sure to get every last bit of the two of you off your delicate skin. 
Once he was done, he patted you dry with another towel, reaching over to where your tights had landed to pick them up. He got on his knees, a sight that had you perking up just enough to catch him staring up at you with so much adoration you honestly didn’t know what to do with it. 
It took everything in you not to melt right into his tough, to stay awake enough even though his warm finger riding up your legs was enough to lull you to sleep. It was only when he needed to hoist your tights over your ass that he picked you up, placing you back down on your shaky legs.
“Can you do me one last favor, sweet girl?” he whispered and you did your best to nod. “Can you pee for me? I don’t want you getting a UTI.”
You sighed deeply, being diligent not something you were looking forward to in that moment. But you nodded again, and he rewarded you with a soft kiss to your temple before he stepped outside of the bathroom to give you some privacy.
Once you were done, he walked you back to his seat on the plane, not caring if anyone saw because he knew that even if they did, they wouldn’t say anything at all. He made sure you were comfortable, wrapped in a blanket, buckled into the seat for safety, before he made his way back to the bathroom. 
He cleaned everything up, going through his own routine before he washed his hands, pocketed your still damp panties, and made sure nothing looked out of place. He then grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before making his way back to you.
He sat beside you, his hand softly grazing your cheek to wake you up long enough to press the bottle on your lips, silently urging you to drink. 
You did without question, almost as if you’d done this all your life, the motion nothing more than routine, easy, normal. 
“Master?” you whispered sweetly after he deemed you’d drank enough. 
“Yes, bunny?”
“Can I have a kiss please?”
“Of course, sweet girl,” his nose tickled your own before his lips landed on yours, gentle, kind, perfect. You hummed against him, eyes closing for the final time before sleep overtook you. 
He smiled proudly, his heart so full, so content, so excited for what the future had in store for the first time in a very long time. He watched you sleep the rest of the flight, watched you curl further into him, watched you reciprocate all of the feelings that had been plaguing him since the night before.
You wanted him just as much as he wanted you, and that was all he needed to lay the self-sabotage to bed, to allow himself to drift off to sleep, even if it was just for a few minutes so that he could fully take you in, because all he really needed was you curled into his side like you belonged there all along.
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fucking hell i am oN MY KNEES for this man. honestly what a fucking jOY it is to write them.
send me more requests for bunny and clyde!! i don't really have a series planned for them so i'm down to just write requested scenarios and play around with where their story goes.
tags: @canuck-eh, @ssamorganhotchner, @xladyxdreamer, @gr3enflowers, @lilyviolets, @howabouticallyou, @shadowmemory, @simp4f1, @honeylovemoon, @powelvr25
2K notes · View notes
jqhotchner · 2 days
Text
stars
six
aaron holds his wife close to him. she’s only just got home and he missed the smell of her lilac shampoo. yn meant everything to him! losing haley sent him in a dark path for a long time. in the divorce and when she was killed. it broke him over and over again.
aaron never thought he’d have the willpower to move on from his first love. he thought she’d be his one and only. he accepted that, for awhile.
but in comes this most amazing, breathtaking, beautiful, smart, kind woman who instantly stole his heart!
yn and aaron met during one of his cases. it had been in new york city and it turned out fashion week just so happened to happen during the time they flew in new york for a case. it was a happy accident.
aaron liked to call it faith. normally he’d be the first one out of the hotel, heading straight to whatever precinct the team had to be for the case. he’d deal with the crappy coffee they had and get on with figuring out who the unsub could be.
that day was no different. this time though, he wanted to treat himself to better coffee. plus, he had been craving a dunkins donut for awhile.
when aaron arrived to dunkin donuts he sighs at the long line in the drive through. aaron decided to just go inside.
walking in he sighs as he stands in line. aaron soon hears commotion outside and sees that some people stopped a woman and asked for photos and autographs.
aaron ignores the commotion. he orders his drink and a few donuts, before he heads out. he gets a small glimpse of the woman before getting back in his car.
aaron didn’t really think too much of it. that is until he sees her again later that night. the team had solved the case, arresting the unsub and finding the woman he kidnapped, bringing her home safely. the team wanted to celebrate.
normally aaron would decline the offer to come along, wanting to get a good night sleep before jetting off the next morning. this time he accepted. he didn’t know why, but his inner voice told him he deserved to go out and have fun.
they went to a small club derek had found. he watched as his team danced, laughing at derek’s smooth moves.
aaron takes a sip of his beer before excusing himself to the restroom. once he finished his business he heads to the bar. aaron sees a woman looking very uncomfortable while a guy tries to flirt with her. she tries to be polite, giving him a smile. aaron could tell he wasn’t really getting the hint. she politely declines his advances. the man grabs her arm a little to aggressive for his liking. aaron frowns before walking over to them.
“everything okay?”
“yeah, it is! back up buddy!”
aaron puts his hands in the small of her back. the woman looks at him with pleading eyes. aaron recognizes her from earlier that day.
“i wasn’t asking you.”
“listen, i was having a discussion with the pretty lady here! why don’t you leave!”
aaron grabs his badge. the guy raised his hands before leaving.
“thank you!”
aaron hums. “yeah, any time.”
the woman smiles at him. “that a real badge or are you an actor?”
aaron gives her one of his signature small smiles. “it’s real. fbi.”
“oh? how long have you been an agent?”
aaron scoffs. “i don’t even remember. it’s been so long.”
“you look oddly familiar. have we met?”
“saw you at dunkins. you were signing autographs. im assuming you’re a celebrity?”
she laughs. “you don’t recognize me?”
aaron shakes his head. “mostly listen to the classics. i am quite old.” aaron states.
“you don’t look that old mister fbi agent! but, yeah, i am! im barely famous though. have like three albums out right now. it’s one reason why i can walk freely in the streets of new york without being spotted too much.”
“you can call me aaron.”
“aaron, huh? very suiting for an fbi agent. i like that. my names yn. i go by my middle name though in the industry, rihanna.”
aaron smiles. “what brings you here in new york?”
“i was invited to a few fashion shows. since im up and coming people want me everywhere. it’s been a busy week for me.” yn states.
“i understand. traveling a lot, yeah?”
“mhm. you travel?”
aaron nods. “yeah, all the time. im a profiler! my job consist being in different locations all the time.”
“profiler? you’re in the big leagues then, huh? i heard you gotta be crazy smart to be considered.”
aaron laughs. “something like that. it’s mostly got to do with reading people, places, and things, you know? just looking a little deeper than others would. like studying it more.”
“okay mister profiler, let’s see how good you are at your job. profile me.” yn smirks.
aaron smirks.
“just by standing next to you i can tell you’re an amazing artist. you write music from the heart and release it for the world to know who you are and what you’ve been through. you underestimate yourself. you don’t think you’re good enough which is why you call yourself low leveled, yet you’re already being invited to big events, which means you’re getting way more attention than you’ve ever imagined.”
yn left speechless. she didn’t know what else to do or say. yn just stood there before blinking rapidly. “wow, you’re good!”
“it’s just from the few things you’ve told me. nothing major.”
“who’s underestimating themselves now?” she smirks.
aaron chuckles.
the two continues to chat for a while. they lost track of time. soon enough emily comes to find aaron, letting him know she’s taking derek and spencer back to the hotel. both of them drunk off their ass.
aaron lets her know he’ll be right behind them.
“it was great talking to you, yn.” aaron smiles as he goes to walk away. “aaron, wait!”
aaron turns around. yn hands him a piece of paper. “please, call me. i enjoyed talking to you.”
aaron smiles. he places the paper in his pocket before waving. the rest was history.
he was smitten that very day and continued to be smitten about her. he felt like haley brought them together.
they were perfect. his perfect little star.
23 notes · View notes
thewulf · 3 months
Text
Did You Just...? || Aaron Hotchner
Summary: Request - What about a young!Hotch x reader and they’re best friends crushing on each other?? Idk if you remember that TikTok trend where you call your crush or film a video and kiss your best friend and they don’t know what’s going on?... Read Rest Here
A/N: PURE FLUFFFFF. Loved this. Hope you guys enjoy :) This is a Young Hotch set in present day :)
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N
Word Count: 3.0k
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“Okay but you’ve been on the app right?” You asked Aaron after sitting down at his desk filled to the brim with paperwork that needed to be completed but never had the time to do. He peaked his eyes over to you once you sat down with a huff.
Amusement danced in his gaze as a small smiled played on his lips at your overt casualness with him. It was remarkable to witness you go from the scared and timid profiler hired right out of school to chatting his ear off at lunch every day in a matter of mere months. See, he was in his third year at the BAU and thought he had figured it out. That was until you came along and rocked his world.
He used to come to work, get some paperwork done, put his head down and go home after a long day. It worked for him. He was ‘friends’ with his coworkers as best as he could be, but he was the young pup of the group. Then you were onboarded. Gideon hired you the second you graduated after blowing him away in one of the classes he taught at Georgetown. You came in like a hurricane that he wasn’t quite ready for but knew the team needed.
You were so different than Aaron’s other coworkers. You actually talked to him and got to know him. You weren’t afraid of his intimidating gaze but instead found it a fun challenge to try and get him to break his facade. It annoyed him at first. He went to work to work, not socialize. But leave it to you to sway his opinion on the matter. Aaron didn’t want to admit just how much he had grown to love and adore your smiling face greeting him every morning. He really didn’t want to admit how much he looked forward to your early morning coffee chats or daily debriefs when Gideon was being a hard ass. You were the sunshine of the group. The one that brought the optimism while the rest of the team turned terribly pessimistic.
He'll never forget the first time you caught a killer. He almost had a heart attack when you quite literally jumped on top of the man, surprising him and taking him to the floor without a second thought. You smiled right up to him after he was in cuffs and whispered a, “One down. A hundred more to go.” To him. He knew right then and there that you’d be in his life for a long time.
“What app?” He set the pen he was writing with down as he turned his attention to you.
Sighing you opened your phone showing him, “Don’t play dumb with me Hotchner.” Your eyes glowered at the man with a subtle smirk resting right on his face, “Tik-Tok.”
He leaned back watching the videos you’d saved. He assumed they were ones you thought would convince him to download it. He was right of course. You’d saved the funniest ones in hopes he’d download the damn app. You’ve been trying for weeks to get him to do it. But then again, it almost took you three entire months to convince the man he needed to upgrade from his prehistoric iPhone 5.
“You know that’s likely spyware and the government…”
You cut him off with another long-drawn-out sigh, “Okay dad. But it’d not banned. So, download it.”
Aaron could mess with you, and he knew it. And enjoyed it. He didn’t dare want to admit just how happy he got when he got you to blush under his gaze. You’d quite literally waltzed in and rocked his absolute world. He knew he couldn’t catch feelings for you and yet here he was. On the brink of falling in love with the funnier than ever coworker who knew him better than he knew himself. How cliché.
He leaned back in his office chair crossing his arms over his chest, “You know. I don’t think I will.” He watched your face closely. You were far too easy to read. Something he was working on with you. You gave away everything on your face. His smirk only grew when you raised your eyebrows in slight surprise. It wasn’t often he didn’t bend over backwards to make you happy. He would of course download the stupid little app to make you happy. Just like he got the latest iPhone once you saw the horrifying state of his almost 10-year-old phone.
You leaned back in the same manner he had, “No need to be so obstinate Hotch.” Giving him a playful push, you couldn’t help but to giggle at his amused grin. It was easy to forget the two of you were at work of all places. It was just so easy to forget with him. He made you want more with him, so much more. A much easier case to crack than you originally thought. He was an utter softy under the rigid exterior put on for the team.
He knew he should get back to work but he just couldn’t shoo you away. He looked forward to moments like these. Little moments where he got to steal some of your time and attention, “Look at you. Using your big words.” His smirk deepened as he watched you register his words in real time. He was playing around with you. He’d gotten so comfortable with you he was beginning to mess with you right back. You’d grown used to teasing him and only getting an eyeroll or snicker in return. You weren’t used to this. And you had to admit you loved it. A subtle change you’d grown to adore.
“Didn’t go to school for nothing.” You winked at him knowing the double negative would set him off.
He shook his head, “You’re something else, you know that?”
Wiggling your eyebrows at him you nodded your head, “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Relenting, he fished his phone out of his pocket. He opened it up knowing damn well he didn’t download the app but he’d sure as hell let you do it. He’d truly do anything for you, “You’re right.”
Ignoring the flush that rose to your cheeks you grabbed the opened phone from his hands. You knew you shouldn’t be having these thoughts for your dangerously attractive slightly older and much more put together coworker. But damn. You had all the thoughts and feelings.
You sighed, “Just as I suspected.” Shaking your head in disapproval you handed the phone back to him, “Now, I need you to make an account to night. Let me know when you do! I have so many to share with you.” You grinned knowing he was going to give in one way or another.
He took it back, “That’s a lot of work.” He spoke with a grin that meant he was just teasing you. Two could play that game.
“Yeah, because you’re so anti-technology. But I promise you can do this. Who else am I supposed to send TikTok’s too?” You widened your eyes as if it was the most obvious thing ever.
“You’re other friends?”
You shrugged, “I do send them. But these are for you.”
Aaron couldn’t help but to smile at your ever so quick comebacks. One of the many reasons he had fallen for you so quickly, “I’ll do it. But…” He paused letting it linger in the air for a moment.
“But what Hotchner?” You raised your eyebrows, ever so curious as to what his stipulation could be.
His smile widened seeing your impatience for him grow, “Only if you come over and show me how.” He’d never really been so bold before. Sure, you’d been over to his place a few times in passing, once for a team dinner. Gideon’s genius idea to have somebody from the team host once a month. You’d rather come to enjoy the gatherings. Especially when they were at Rossi’s place. The wine and food pairings never ceased to amaze you. You on the other hand always insisted on taking the team out when your month rolled around. It was a little too embarrassing to have the entire team over at your rather small one-bedroom apartment.
“Propositioning me now Hotch?” You challenged back to the man you were head over heels with knowing it’d throw him off his game. The smile that immediately dropped let you know you did exactly that.
This time it was his mouth that dropped as his cheeks turned an adorable violet. Oh, you got him this time. You wished you could take a picture. He was just too cute when he thought too hard. If you were at home you would’ve risked a picture, but you didn’t want to cross the line at work. You’d never dream of putting him in an awkward position here. The both of you worked way too hard to blow it up now.
“You know I would never ever…” He started rambling. It would’ve been adorable had he not been actually freaking out a little bit. Of course, you knew that. You really were just messing with him.
Shaking your head, you stopped him, “I’m teasing you Aaron. I’d love to come over and show you how to make a TikTok account.”
He let out a strangled sigh of relief, “You’re killing me.” He loved it when you called him by his first name. It sounded too good coming out of your mouth.
Biting back a smile you stood from the chair, “I’ll be over at 6?”
You watched as he leaned forward grabbing his pen once more. Turning to you with that smile you’d grown to adore he nodded, “Don’t be late.”
“I wouldn’t dare Hotchner.” Shooting him one last wink you walked away briskly letting your heart get far, far away from the man who was causing it to beat right out of your chest.
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“You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be Hotchner.” You giggled itching to take the phone away from Aaron.
He shrugged giving you a wicked grin, “We’re not all technologically savvy Y/L/N.” He chided back knowing he might’ve been taking his time so that you didn’t have an excuse to leave. He took his time making dinner, not starting until you made it over. Taking his time cleaning up and getting dessert out. Pretending not to know how his phone worked. He wanted to steal your time away. Not that you minded, not in the slightest.
Rolling your eyes, you finished setting it up for him, “You could say that again.”
A small chuckle rolled off his lips. He put his phone back down before turning his head back to you. You were watching him with all the love in your eyes. You’d tried so hard to hide it, but it was becoming an impossible task. He was so easy to fall in love with. How were you to blame?
Feeling bold you decided to move forward with your plan. Picking up your phone you clicked the video player to record and angled it towards you and Aaron.
With scrunched brows he observed you, “What are you doing?”
“Since you’ve never opened the app you’ll never get it. But we’re doing a video. I’ll post it. It’d trending right now.” You said as nonchalantly as possible trying not to let your voice waver. You had to be confident
Curiously we watched as you scooted closer to him, “Trending?” He asked with a hint of amusement lacing his voice.
You nodded not daring to meet his curious gaze, you’d surely lose the confidence to actually do it, “Mhmm,” You hummed, “If you’ll let me that is.”
He grinned, “Be my guest.”
It felt like your heart was about to leap out of its chest. Now or never, really, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He smirked seeing you finally look him in the eyes, “Do your worst then.”
It was really now or never. You grabbed either side of his face and decided to go for it.
His eyes widened in pleasant shock as you pressed your lips to his. He could’ve sworn his heart stopped then and there. That was bold, even for you. But then again you always had him on his toes. Another one of the many reasons he knew that made him fall for you. It took him a second to long to respond to this kiss. But once he did he wasn’t going to let you go.
Once you needed air though you did have to pull away. Adrenaline was now coursing through you as you realized you really just kissed not only your friend but your coworker as well. There was truly no going back now.
“Did you just…?” His mouth bobbed open and closed like he couldn’t believe what you just did.
You watched as his face went from shock to realization to… satisfaction? A fast and hot blush erupted on your cheeks as you realized he was watching you too, waiting on an answer to his very own question.
“I did.” Biting your lip, a wave of anxiety washed over you as you waited his answer.
You didn’t get one as he leaned in this time. You felt as his hand wrapped around the back of your neck and up through your hair. Carefully he pulled your head towards him as he kissed you with a little more dominance this time. He was in charge. He wanted to kiss you. You didn’t fight the way your body melted right into his. Feeling him smile as you folded into his touches like putty, you didn’t dare break away. You’d dreamed of this moment for far too long. Almost six months too long now.
He pulled away gently, leaning his forehead on yours, “Thank God you did.”
Your heart was hammering so hard in your chest you only could hope he couldn’t hear it being so close, “Yeah?” You asked, a hint of insecurity in your voice.
He moved away from you only so he could look you in the eyes. His hands landed on your shoulders giving them a gentle squeeze, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” His usually unreadable face broke into a light blush, one you probably wouldn’t be able to see if you weren’t so close to him.
“Why didn’t you?” The smile on your face let him know it was all in good fun. You just loved teasing him. And he loved teasing you right on back.
He shook his head with the saddest smile, “Would it be too cowardly to say that I didn’t want to mess it all up? I didn’t want to make a mess of it if you didn’t feel the same.” For the first time you’d seen a side of him you’d really never have seen before. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t have an answer. He looked to you for the next step.
A quick shake of your head brought you back to the present, “I’d never think of you as a coward Aaron.” You reached for his hands that landed back down at his side, “And I’m certainly glad I didn’t make a mess of it.” You giggled feeling relieved that he clearly felt the same way. You didn’t think he’d kiss you like that if he didn’t.
“Go out with me tomorrow? On an actual date? Where I can actually woo you. You weren’t supposed to do that by the way.” He pinched your side lightly loving the way you squirmed under his touch, “But then again. You always seem to take me by surprise.” He clarified leaning back in wanting so desperately to kiss you once more but needing to hear your answer first.
“Do I now?” If your heart could speed up it certainly did as he leaned closer and closer once more.
“All the time.” He placed a gentle hand on your cheek, his thumb gingerly brushing on the apple of your cheek. A shiver you tried to stop erupted from your body at the lightest of contact with him. You were a goner, and you knew it.
“Good to know.” You grinned before leaning in and giving his nose a quick kiss, catching him off guard yet again, “And yes, I’d love to go out with you.” You continued after sending his brain into a tizzy. You truly would be the death of him.
He didn’t waste a second more before bringing you in for a much slower kiss this time. He too was in utter disbelief this was going on. Sure, he’d daydreamed about it on far too many occasions, but it was actually happening. He was kissing you.
When he pulled back for air he gave you a once over again, “I haven’t told you how pretty you look tonight.” He knew that’d draw that pretty blush he loved so much.
You pushed at his chest lightly giving him a soft laugh. You turned your head spotting the phone you’d set up to record about five minutes ago.
“Oh crap.” You pulled yourself off of him to grab at the phone quickly ending the video. A soft smile graced your face as you thought about watching that later.
He grinned, “Are you going to post that?”
Shaking your head quickly you saved the video before closing out of the app, “No, I don’t think I will.” Looking back up with all the love in your eyes you scooted closer to him, nearly on top of him now, “Think I’ll keep it just for you and I.”
He pulled you onto his lap, getting the hint, “You’re a sap.” Brushing your now messy hair, thanks to Aaron, out of your face he leaned down to give you a gentle kiss on your forehead, “A cute sap at that.”
You grinned while cuddling into him rather thankful your uncalculated risk paid off in an incredible way, “Only for you Aaron.”
He wrapped his arms all the way around pulling you in close, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
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Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade
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dashofghost · 19 days
Text
AFTER HOURS
or, Hotch being frustrated with the local police department is hot. mdni
"I'm busy," the sheriff snaps, burying his nose in another case file to avoid looking at Hotch. You purse your lips quietly, trying to decipher your almost illegible handwriting on the report.
"I can come back with a warrant."
Your head snaps up, report forgotten. Hotch's scowl is even more severe than normal, his arms crossed over his chest. The sheriff pushes his chair back, standing face to face with Hotch.
"Excuse me?" the sheriff snaps. The conversation is turning heads all over the precinct, a quiet hush seeping over the desks, but your eyes are glued on Hotch. He braces his hands on the sheriff's desk, and you almost swoon.
"You have deliberately concealed evidence to protect multiple unsubs throughout this entire investigation. All those people had to die for what reason, sheriff? So you could keep your drinking buddies? So you could keep living your twisted lies-"
"You son of bitch," the sheriff spits at Hotch. The entire precinct is silent now, all eyes on the argument. Hotch waits for a beat, two, before abruptly turning away.
"We're leaving," he orders shortly. It takes a second for the words to reach you in your daze, but you scrabble to pack up your papers.
"Hotch, what-" Derek starts, but stops when Hotch fixes him with a dark scowl.
"That's an order." Hotch snaps. Chills, actual chills run down your spine as you follow him out of the precinct, anger rolling off him in waves. You bite your lip, teeth digging into the delicate skin. Bitterly, you wish they were his.
◇─◇──◇─◇
The ride back to the hotel is silent. The team splits up almost as soon as you get back, Hotch storming off to his room as soon as the car stops. You change into conformable clothes and wait for the inevitable knock on your door.
It comes just an hour later. You open the door to see Hotch, his tie loose and his hair mussed, coat jacket gone.
"Can I come in?" he asks quietly, just like he does every time. You smile and nod, and he walks in, closing the door behind him. He waits until the lock clicks.
Just as you pull him in by his button down, he's reaching for you. Your lips collide in clash of teeth, tongues dancing. It's the same battle for dominance like it is every time.
"You loved it," Hotch gasps between kisses, hands sliding up your sides, dragging the material of your (his) shirt with it. You drag your fingers through his hair, nails scraping his scalp, and he groans, low and throaty.
"Yeah? You couldn't even wait an hour before coming here," you spit back, furiously working on the buttons of his shirt. You try to ignore the tremors in your hands as Hotch cups your breast in his hand, massaging slow circles on your nipple.
"Do you want be to boss you around, angel? Want me to tell you what to do?" he asks, and oh god, you didn't even realize your shirt was off. The wall is cool against your back when you collide with it, and you realize he's doing it again.
"I think I'd rather die," you snap, but it comes out breathy as one of Hotch's hands trails down your stomach, disappearing underneath the hem of your sweats.
"Yeah?" he asks in his stupid smug voice, his paw-like hands cupping your pussy. You grind down against him, almost unconsciously. His thumb starts to work lazy circles on your clit, and your eyes flutter shut. You bite back your moans, opening your eyes to glare at him hazily.
He only chuckles, slipping two of his fingers inside you. His thumb works at a cruel pace, and your fingernails dig into his arm, trying to keep yourself upright. Hotch's fingers arch once, twice, before rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you.
You can't help it: you moan, high and breathy in his ear and Hotch's head falls back, a groan escaping his throat.
"There we go, angel, there we go," he coos, and the world spins and you realize he's picked you up. He sets you down on the bed, his hands shaking as he pulls off sweats and underwear. Your legs are still shaking as he settles you in his lap, and your head spins when you realize he's still in his (open) button down and slacks.
"Aaron," you whine as he slides his fingers back into you, and he runs a soothing hand down your back as you grind down on them. As his fingers rub against your walls, you can only bury your head in his shoulder.
You gasp as his fingers rub against both your clit and g-spot, crying out. You writhe in his arms, hazy with pleasure, dragging your nails his back. Hotch is moaning freely, rutting up against you.
"It's so-" you gasp, clinging onto his shoulders, nails leaving marks, "Aaron, ugh, it's so good-"
"I know," he groans in response, "I know, sweetheart. Just let me take care of you, yeah?"
◇─◇──◇─◇
"casual sex implies the existence of ranked competitive sex" this is the ranked competitive sex
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spacecowboyhotch · 9 months
Text
The Brink
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summary: you and aaron try for a baby.
pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader
contents: NSFW/18+/MINORS DNI, pwp, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint
wc: 1.2k
gif credit: @hotch-girl
an: first proper hotch fic ive written since sept of last year. hotch girls make some noise, it’s been a long time cominnnnn’! this isn’t beta’d so if there’s typos blame grammarly 🤪
cm masterlist | requests closed
“Oh god, Aaron, please,” You whine softly into the sheets, attempting to rock back against him.
“You’re alright, I’ve got you,” He shushes you gently, pulling back just a bit before easing back inside of you and staying still.
He’s driving you insane in the best way and all you can do is take what he’s giving you.
You’re so warm. The warmest you’ve ever been in your life, surrounded by heat, and while you generally prefer to bundle up in the cold there is no other place you’d rather be right now. There’s sweat pooling in the dip of your back, coating every inch of your skin that is practically suffused to Aaron’s. He’s draped his entire body over yours, his hips moving forward in a slow grind that presses the tip of his cock at the spot deepest inside of you.
You’re unsure of how much time has passed, but what you are sure of is that there was at least a bit of dusk peeking through the blinds when he’d first carried you to bed. You feel as though he’s consumed you— his hands, his mouth, they’ve been everywhere and you haven’t had a single complaint.
You’d told him that evening that you were ready to have a child with him in the most nonchalant way. As always you were perched in his lap, grinding down against him until he’d gone mad and needed you as much as you needed him. And when he had reached for protection like he always does, you grabbed his hand and fixed him with a look that made him feel like you wanted to swallow him whole.
Don’t. I want to try, Aaron. I want you to fill me up, you’d said.
His head had tilted, eyes scanning your face as he assessed you for what felt like an eternity before quietly asking you if you were sure. And when you nodded, opening your mouth to speak, he hadn’t even given you the chance because he lunged forward, pressing his lips to yours in a frantic, hungry kiss. You’d been frozen, succumbing to his mouth before your brain recalibrated, able to match his fervor.
It took no time at all for him to get you both naked, to have you cumming on his fingers and tongue. Aaron’s always giving in bed, but it is his way of taking. Your pleasure and his pleasure are almost one and the same, two veins that feed into each other.
“I love you,” He murmurs against the skin of your neck before pressing a series of kisses to the column of your throat, trailing them over the slope of your shoulder.
You shiver against his mouth, reaching back with a hand to bury it into his messy, slick hair, “I love you, too.”
“Are you ready for me to put a baby in you, sweetheart?”
This time your shiver is more of a shudder. You support your head in the cup of your palm, turning to glance over your shoulder at him as you nod frantically. “Please. Please.”
“One more time, sweet girl, ask me one more time. The way you beg…” He breathes, the sound hitching in his chest.
You notice that his eyes are cloudy, with love and lust, as he stares at you. Your mouth pulls up in a lazy, satisfied smile. Yes, you’re always happy to submit to Aaron, to have him scramble your brain until your only words are his name and some sort of pleading for more. But sometimes —unknowingly— Aaron submits to you too. Your every ask is met with yes no matter how long it’s been, how tired he is— in and out of the bedroom.
“Please, Aaron.”
“I’m right here. Right here, it’s alright, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you want,” He reassures you softly.
Despite that reassurance, he doesn’t quicken his pace or increase the force of his hips. He continues to grind into you, wanting to stay as close to you as humanly possible. To cum as deeply inside of you as possible, hellbent on it to take. And while you’re confused, this much different than how he usually works you both to climax, you trust him with everything.
“Look at me,” He breathes into your ear, and you do, your eyes meeting his once more.
There’s a desperation in his eyes, a wildness you’ve never seen before and you know that he’s just on the brink. His hips move sloppily against yours though there’s still no change in his methods. He feels like he’s acting on instinct, like some need in his body has taken over and he can hardly think about anything but you. The way you smell, the way you feel around him— tight and wet— the way you’re looking back at him with this pleading expression on your face.
The sight of him like this is what sends you over the edge, and you cum with a whine, somehow squeezing him tighter than you had before. He follows you, burying his face in the smooth skin of your back as he fills you with warmth. The groan he lets out is deep and filthy, his breath tickling you and making you squirm. It sends him deeper, and his hips buck forward, keeping every single drop of him inside of you.
If this doesn’t take, he doesn’t know what will.
He avoids putting all of his weight on you by turning you both on your sides, hooking a leg through yours, and wrapping his arms around you so there’s nowhere for you to go— not that you’re in any rush to move. Not that you could with how exhausted you are from being tangled in bed with him for so long.
“Incredible stamina,” You tease as you try to recenter your breaths.
“We’re never doing that again,” He huffs, pressing a kiss to your temple.
You laugh softly, leaning into his touch, “What time is it?”
He glances behind him to the clock on his bedside table, and you feel rather than see his grimace. “Eight,” He says reluctantly, knowing what’s about to happen.
You glare over your shoulder at him, “Aaron, I missed my show.”
“Maybe next time, you should tell me you want to have a baby on a day you have nothing to watch,” He says matter-of-factly, mouth twitching as he tries not to laugh.
“I always have something to watch.”
“I’d deem it a worthy sacrifice.”
His words make you smile, heart going gooey. Any grumpiness about your show fades as you nod softly in agreement, “Yeah, me too.”
“And sweetheart?”
“Hmm?” You hum as you lay back against him again, eyes slipping shut.
His lips are at your ear, his voice just a whisper, “I recorded your show. All of them, they always record.”
The smile on your face widens, making your cheeks ache, “You’re a perfect man.”
“I try,” He quips.
The two of you lay there for a while until he convinces you to clean up and order food. And as you sit with your feet in his lap, tuned into your show, Aaron glances over at you, his heart full. He hopes that this little slice of life you have together with get brighter with your growing family.
cm taglist: @ssahotchsbitch , @ssamorganhotchner, @kuolonsyoja, @heliotropehotch, @averyhotchner, @zetasaturno99, @art-and-thoughts, @ssa-montgomery, @thinking-bucky, @ashhotchner, @moonshine-evelyn, @emlynblack , @sunshinemunchkin, @angelfxllcm, @wheelsupmarvel, @jaspxr, @gspenc, @sadgirlml, @hotchs-bitch , @crowfootwrites, @wilbur-rabbit, @hotched, @greg-montgomery, @reidselle, @fightingdragonswithwho, @honeybrowne, @rousethemouse, @eternal-silvertongued-prince, @mayasreadingnook, @lesbianhotch
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chvoswxtch · 3 months
Text
slumber party
pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader x derek morgan x spencer reid
summary: while en route to a case, the four of you let off a little steam.
warnings: all of them. every single one of them. swearing, a lil angst, derek morgan's smile, explicit sexual content (minors dni)
word count: 3.3k
a/n: let's be real. you didn't come here for a plot, and I didn't write one. enjoy this slutty vision I had in the shower. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!
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The jet was quiet apart from the sporadic sound of pages being flipped and Spencer’s occasional soft noises of either being intrigued or perplexed regarding details of the case, deciphered only by their volume and pitch. Hotch had read the same paragraph on the report at least seven times, and there seemed to be some kind of disconnect between his tired eyes and unresponsive brain. Letting out a quiet irritated exhale and diverting his attention to the top of the paragraph yet again, a soft noise caused his ears to perk up.
Finally looking up from the report for the first time in half an hour since he originally sat down, creases furrowed in the midst of his forehead when he glanced towards the other end of the jet and caught sight of you. From where he sat, all he could see was the back of your head since you seemed to be facing the back of the seat you were in, which he found extremely odd. But as he craned his neck, he noticed a familiar pair of hands on your hips and instantly clenched his jaw.
“Son of a bitch.”
The second Hotch shot up out of his chair, Spencer finally tore his own eyes away from the report and turned his head to follow Hotch’s angry march down the aisle of the jet with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. Now that there were no obstructions in his line of sight, Hotch had the full view of you sitting topless on Derek’s lap with your skirt bunched up around your waist, grinding your hips down in a slow but sensual rhythm. Derek’s hands were firmly grasped on your hips to help guide your movements, and his face was buried into your exposed chest.
“Morgan you greedy fucker.”
The sound of Hotch’s angry voice booming in the comfortable silence caused you to immediately tense up and stop moving, but Derek wasn’t having any of that. He gripped a little tighter onto your hip and gave your ass a light smack, pulling his head back to look at you with that dazzling smile of his that could make anyone weak in the knees.
“No no no no, keep goin’ baby girl. Don’t worry about him. You just keep doing what you’re doing…that’s it.”
Derek leaned his head back against the seat, looking over at Hotch with that same charming grin on his face. His warm chocolate brown eyes were glazed over with lust and had been eclipsed into half moons of pleasure. 
“Sorry Hotch, she just looked too goddamn good.”
“What’s going on back-oh.”
As Spencer took his place beside Hotch, his eyes immediately went wide at the sight he was met with. He seemed to be completely mesmerized by the erotic flow of your hips while you languidly rode Derek’s cock as you sat topless on his lap. While Spencer was bewitched by the spell of your hips, Hotch was furious. The stern look that seemed to be his default expression was unaffected by the show taking place before him.
“Morgan, you know the rules-”
“Come on, Hotch. We still got another hour before we land. Lighten up a little. You know, some stress relief would do you a whole lotta good.”
Before Hotch had a chance to respond, Spencer was already stepping forward and unbuttoning his cardigan.
“You could’ve at least asked us to join.”
Derek let out a soft chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down your smooth thighs as he flexed his hips upwards to match your pacing.
“Hey, you were the one more invested in exactly how many trees there are in the Acadia National Park than you were in the beautiful woman on the plane, pretty boy.”
“Well if I had known-”
Letting out a frustrated huff, you stopped moving and placed your hand over Derek’s mouth before turning to look at Spencer and Hotch over your shoulder.
“Boys, you know I hate it when you argue. It makes me dry up.”
Spencer dropped his forgotten cardigan on the chair behind himself, his attention solely fixed on you again. In the dim lighting of the plane, you could just barely see that the green flecks in his honey eyes had deepened into a wicked hue. He ran his fingers gently through your hair before cradling your face in one hand and starting to unbuckle his belt with the other, all while looking at you and dragging his tongue along his bottom lip.
“Don’t worry, we can get you wet again.”
“Not if you’re all standing around bickering instead of fucking me.”
Hotch wasn’t giving in, no matter how badly he wanted to. It was late, he was exhausted, he was beyond sexually frustrated, but above all he was fucking stubborn.
“There is one rule on this fucking plane. When we are en route to a case, we are focused on the case. Playtime is for after.”
Brushing Spencer’s hand away from his belt, a smirk tugged across your lips as you looked up at him and began to unbuckle it yourself, which only caused him to bite down on his bottom lip seductively. Throwing a glance over your shoulder at Hotch, you could visibly see just how pissed off he was, but as your gaze wandered down south, you could also see the outline of his impressive cock starting to strain against his pants. Sinking your teeth into your own bottom lip, you looked up at Hotch through your, flashing him a sultry smile while you teasingly unzipped Spencer’s pants slowly.
“Aw, come on, Aaron. If anyone needs some relief, it’s you. Just come have a little fun with us.”
The hardness in Hotch’s glare wavered only slightly at the provocative sound of your voice. It was an unrelenting struggle to keep his eyes focused directly on yours and to not let them roam over your body. If he let his gaze wander for even a split second to see the way your nipples were peaked from the cool air in the cabin, the way your soft hand was caressing Spencer’s cock through his pants, or the way your ass moved against Derek’s lap while you fucked him, he would break. While Derek began to flex his hips upwards a little harder to fuck up into you now that there was no longer a reason to stay quiet, you were pulling Spencer’s cock out of his briefs and leaning over to take him into your mouth.
Before he could watch you wrap your lips around Spencer’s tip, Hotch quickly looked away and stormed off towards the other end of the jet, dropping into his chair and loosening his tie with a hardened scowl on his face.
“You’re all getting written up.”
“For what?”
Derek's protest was only faintly heard since Hotch’s blood was now pounding in his ears like a high school marching band, and throbbing in other places. 
“Insubordination.”
There was a slight growl to his voice as he barked back at Derek, not even bothering to look up as he angrily began to look through the case file again, but he couldn't focus. No matter how hard he tried, all he could hear was Derek and Spencer praising you in tandem as they each took an offering from your body, and the soft noises of gratitude that flowed from your lips. It was absolute fucking torture. He thought about palming himself through his pants, just to get a little reprieve without alerting any of you to his moment of weakness. But he was so fucking angry with all of you, he didn’t even want to give in.
His mind was a jumbled concoction of juxtaposed thoughts, none of which had anything to do with the case in front of him. Hotch wasn’t sure why he was so pissed off right now. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if he had joined in, it wasn’t like the four of you hadn’t done it before. It certainly would’ve put him in a better mood. But this was a big case, and Strauss had been on his ass more than usual lately, and things at the BAU had been so chaotic that the team was getting split up just to keep up with the influx of cases coming across JJ’s desk.
Maybe it was a mistake not to send you with Rossi, JJ, and Prentiss. The air always shifted when you were alone with him, Reid, and Morgan. It was inevitable. Maybe that’s why he ordered you to come with him, because even if he didn’t want to consciously admit it, subconsciously he knew that this was exactly what he needed. He needed you, and the peace that you brought him.
The sharp sound of a smack landing on flesh caught his attention, and Hotch looked up to see that the three of you had moved to the bench directly in his line of sight. Derek had his head thrown back as pounded into you from behind, occasionally smacking his hand against your ass while he grunted about how tight and wet you always were. Spencer held your hair back while he fucked your mouth, watching you as he moaned praises of what a good girl you were. Your face was obstructed by Spencer’s back, but Hotch could hear how much you were enjoying yourself, and he couldn’t look away.
As Derek and Spencer came in unison, Hotch gripped onto the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned stark white, and he inhaled a sharp breath that he let out slowly through his nose. Gritting his teeth, he glared down at the blur of black ink on the pages, listening to the sound of your angelic laughter and kisses being exchanged between the three of you. Why was he doing this to himself? Why hadn’t he just fucking given in and joined?
While Spencer was sitting on the couch with his pants around his ankles, head back against the window with a blissed out look on his face, Derek snaked his arm around your waist and pressed a soft kiss to your neck before whispering into your ear.
“Do me a favor, baby girl. Go take care of grumpy over there.”
Letting out a quiet giggle, you turned and brushed your nose against Derek’s before kissing him softly.
“Already ahead of you, D.”
Discarding your skirt completely, you dropped it in Spencer’s laugh and planted a quick kiss to his lips before sauntering down the aisle of the plane, completely naked. Hotch glanced up when he caught the smell of your familiar perfume and looked at you with a halfhearted glare. All you could do was smile at the sight of his thick brows furrowed and the permanent scowl that he always seemed to wear. You both knew he couldn’t stay mad at you, and he didn’t even put up a fight when you made him lean back against his seat so you could sit on his lap. 
“Why are you so mad baby, hm?”
Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you ran one of your hands through his dark brown hair, giving a gentle tug at the root which earned a quiet grunt from him. As you leaned in to place featherlight kisses along his jaw, you could feel his body physically relax, as well as how much his hardened cock was straining against his pants. But despite the giveaways from his body, Hotch wouldn’t budge. He didn’t make a move to touch you, and he didn’t speak. He was always the hardest of the three to break, but you knew exactly where his weak points were.
“Oh, you don’t wanna talk, huh? That’s okay. I’d prefer to do something else with my mouth right now anyway.”
Gently biting down on his earlobe, you felt his thighs tense up beneath you and a quiet grunt sound from his chest, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. As you got off his lap, you slowly got down onto your knees in front of Hotch and unbuckled his belt. Since he was already in a sour mood, you decided to skip the teasing, and honestly you were so turned on yourself that you didn’t have the patience for it.
He was trying so hard not to give in while you were pulling the leather of his belt out of the buckle, and even as you were unbuttoning his pants and tugging down the zipper, he was trying to appear completely unbothered while looking at the case files. But the second he felt your luscious lips wrap around the throbbing head of his cock that was slick with pre-cum, he completely lost it. 
Letting his head fall back against the seat, he closed his eyes and his lips parted as he focused solely on the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue sliding against the underside of his sensitive tip. In that moment he completely forgot whatever he was mad about. Every single coherent thought in his head vanished, and all that was  left was you.
You don’t mind when he slips his hand into your hair and grips at it roughly, or when he starts to push his hips upwards to seek out more. It was rare that Hotch ever gave in to his selfish desires, and you were all too eager to let him. The sight above you was one you wished you could frame. His dark brown hair was messy from you running your fingers through it and his eyes were peacefully screwed  shut. There was a twinge of heat covering his cheeks, and his lips were parted further as heavy pants and soft whimpers escaped. Those little noises only make you want to steal more of them from the man that was normally so stoic and closed off. 
All of a sudden, Hotch roughly pulled at your hair causing you to moan around him. He grunted while leaning down to slip his hands under your arms, pulling you up from your knees and shoving all the reports off the table in front of him carelessly onto the floor. He grabbed you by your hips and lifted you up onto the table, and you immediately spread your legs wide for him to slot through. Without wasting another second, Hotch pulled you towards the edge of the table and easily slipped his thick cock inside your drenched pussy. Both of you moaned simultaneously at the contact, and he only faltered for a second before he started to aggressively snap his hips against yours.
Faintly, you can hear Derek whistling from the other side of the plane and the sound of him clapping as he calls out to Hotch.
“There he is. Come on, Hotch. Give us a show.”
When you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, Hotch wrapped one of his large hands around your throat and lightly squeezed. You can tell he’s still frustrated by the feral way he’s fucking you against the table, but you can feel just how badly he needs this release. Sneaking one of your hands down to play with your clit, you only get away with it for a few seconds before Hotch roughly smacks your hand away and tightens his grip on your throat. He replaces your hand with his own and starts to furiously rub quick circles over your sensitive clit, tearing a sharp moan from your chest. You can feel how close he is already by the way his rhythm starts to falter. When he speaks, his voice is so low and husky that it almost sounds like a growl.
“You insatiable little slut. You haven’t come enough already? You think you deserve to come again after the way you’ve been acting?”
“Aaron-”
“Shut up.”
The only thing you can hear over the obscene sound of Hotch’s thighs smacking against your ass with every powerful thrust and the lewd squelching of his cock disappearing over and over inside your tight cunt is the dark chuckle that sounded from Spencer before he spoke.
“Uh oh, someone pissed off Daddy.”
The way you moan Hotch’s name nearly has him combusting right there. When he starts to rub your clit harder, your jaw becomes unhinged and hangs open, but nothing comes out. You can’t speak, you can’t even make a sound. Hotch grunts as his pace becomes even more fervent and brutal. He was fucking you with everything he had, using your body to expel every ounce of pent up frustration, and you were already ascending into the clouds.
“You wanna come so fucking badly? Then do it.”
The tightening of your cunt around his cock sends both of you over the edge, and both of your moans seem to echo in the small space of the cabin. Hotch continues to fuck you wildly through his orgasm, gripping onto the edge of the table to steady himself. Once he starts to slow down after emptying himself inside of you completely, the blissed out smile that replaces the frown on his mouth makes you giggle, and it causes him to finally open his eyes and look down at you with an arch of his brow.
“What?”
“Better?”
Hotch just stares down at you for a moment with slightly narrowed eyes before he finally gives in, his lips parting into that wide grin that you love so much but rarely get to see. Taking a moment to catch his breath, a light chuckle leaves him as he gazes down at you with softer eyes this time and brushes your hair away from your face gently.
“You know, the whole point of me being your boss is you’re supposed to actually listen to me.”
“You of all people know I listen very well.”
The sultry tone of your voice and the implications behind it caused Hotch to smirk, and you can feel the effect it has when you feel his cock twitch inside of you. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against your own and gave your ass a light smack.
“When you’re being a good girl and not such a brat.”
A soft noise of surprise left your lips when he smacked your ass, and you giggled while grabbing his face in your hands to pull him in for a soft and slow kiss.
“I don’t hear you complaining.”
Rolling his eyes, Hotch reluctantly pulled out of you with a soft hiss and helped you down from the table. He ran one of his hands through his hair and took another deep breath before tucking his softened cock back into his pants.
“Alright, everyone back to work.”
“Wait, everyone got to fuck her but me, that’s not fair.” 
Hotch glanced down at his watch on his wrist before looking over at Spencer, shooting him a pointed look when he caught the slight pout on Spencer’s lips.
“We’re landing in twenty minutes and we still need to prep.”
As Spencer began to protest, you walked over towards him and placed your hand on his chest, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek with a mischievous grin.
“Don’t worry, Spence. I’ll share a room with you tonight, and you can fuck me all you want.”
Spencer’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas, but Derek and Hotch immediately began to protest as they shared a look before staring at the two of you with looks of frustration.
“Whoa whoa whoa-“
“That’s not-“
Spencer wrapped his arms around you to pull you in, bending down to kiss you deeply while grabbing a handful of your ass to squeeze tightly causing you to giggle. He nipped at your bottom lip before turning to look at Hotch and Derek with a smug smirk.
“Don’t worry. Unlike you two, I know how to share. Maybe we can all have a slumber party.”
tags: @mars-rants-a-lot @ninejlovebot @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @avencol
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