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#aaron hotchner x your
mariasont · 26 days
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can you do aaron x wife reader who also works in the bau with him & on a case a police officer openly flirts with aaron in front of the team and reader so she stakes her claim on her husband && the team ( mostly derek & pen ) are teasing the two of them for it ??
Marked Territory - A.H
A/N: AHHHHH thinking ab claiming aaron hotchner as ur man has me giggling & kicking me feet
THANK you sooooo much for requesting angel <3 hope you like it!
‧₊˚ ✩°。⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆。°✩˚₊‧
wk: 1.2k
pairings: aaron hotchner x wife!bau!fem!reader
warnings: heavy makeout, jealously
You stood a few feet away with a watchful gaze, arms locked across your chest. The consultant was laying it on thick, her eyelashes sweeping up and down in a practiced rhythm aimed at Aaron. It made you want to throw up. You couldn't help but let out a soft, almost inaudible scoff. The consultant's laughter pierced the quiet, an exaggerated display that felt out of place. Her hand rested on Aaron's arm a moment too long. Your glare could have set the room on fire, you were sure of it, and it only seemed to intensify when Aaron offered a polite, yet distant smile in return.
"Careful there, sugar," Derek joked, sliding into place beside you as he nudged your side. "You're about two seconds from turning this into a crime scene."
You offered a half-glance towards him, "I suppose I can't fault her taste," you said with a forced lightness, even as a twinge of jealously coiled tightly within you, your attention fixed on the hand that dared to claim familiarity with Aaron. "But good taste doesn't come with good sense, apparently."
Penelope swept in with a gasp that could rival a Greek chorus, her eyes wide with a feigned shock. "Wow, I could practically taste your fury from down the hall! Mrs. Hotchner, are we in strategy mode, or should I grab some popcorn?"
You rolled your eyes with a dismissive wave. "You two are ridiculous. What do you expect me to do? Drag her by her hair? Please, I trust Aaron," you stated firmly, because, well, you did. This, however, didn't stop the tiny spark of irritation that flickered within, unbidden and unwelcome, but you squashed it with a laugh. "Besides, if I started a catfight every time someone flirted with him, I'd need my own filing cabinet for all the assault charges."
A glance was all it took for Garcia and Morgan to share their amusement. "Sure, sure," Garcia drawled, her voice dripping in sarcasm.
Morgan's eyebrow arched in silent agreement as he smiled knowingly. "Of course, you're calm. But we both know if that bubble of anger pops, it's going to be one hell of a show."
You tried to ignore it; you really did. You buried your nose in your work, determined to keep your mind off that infuriating woman. You shuffled papers, dove into your case files, and tapped away at your computer with a vigor that doesn't go unnoticed by the team. Every time you caught a glimpse of Aaron, there she was--the consultant--hovering like a shadow. It's almost comical how she mirrored his every move, but you were not laughing.
You found reasons to be anywhere but where Aaron was, taking your coffee break when he's in the break room, opting for the stairs when he took the elevator. It's a dance of avoidance that has you mentally exhausted, but you're trying to channel your inner zen, and being around that woman is doing you no favors.
The office air is thick with tension, a tangible presence that envelops your desk, your focus splintering with every laugh and hushed conversation that drifts over from Aaron's direction. You're the very image of concentration until you see it--the consultant, her proximity invasive, her hand lingering on his shoulder with a familiarity that sears through your veneer of calm. It's the tripping point, the moment your restraint fractures.
You stand, a fluid motion that betrays her anger that charged the room with an energy that has the whole team's attention snapping to you. They recognize the signs--the firm line of your jaw, the fire in your eyes--a rare display that signals an unstoppable force is about to be set in motion.
"Hotch," the name is a clear, firm declaration across the room, a tone you usually reserved for the field. "Can I speak to you for a second?"
The room falls still, a collective breath held by the team as Aaron excuses himself and follows you into his office. The door closes behind them with a soft click, leaving just the two of you. His gaze meets yours, a furrow of worry creasing his brow as he takes in the tempest swirling in your stance.
"Honey, are you alright?" he asks, the professional facade giving way to a soft undertone of worry, as he takes a deliberate step towards you, his eyes searching yours for signs of distress.
With a swift assurance of privacy, your eyes lock on the drawn blinds, and you waste no time diminishing the space between you, hands clasping up to his neck with an urgency that pulls him down to you. Your lips found his in a fervent collision, coaxing a surprised murmur from him. He softly pulled back, his chuckle deep and knowing, as his hands encircled your waist. 
"Honey--I, we're in the office."
His words may have carried a hint of reprimand, but the gentle exploration of his hands across your back drawing you nearer seemed to contradict him. An innocent smile graced your lips as your fingers wove through his hair, eliciting his head tilting back in contentment. "Just missed you is all."
An eyebrow lifted in amused acknowledgement. "Mm, is that so?"
Gently tugging his head closer, your lips crashed against his with a desperate intensity, your hands gripping him as if he were a lifeline.
With deliberate strokes, you raked your fingers through his hair, creating artful disarray. Your hands glided to his tie, tugging it just enough to break the perfect line, then across his jacket, crumpling the fabric with feigned carelessness. Each touch a strategic step in enhancing his unkempt image.
A gentle exhale escaped you as he pressed you back against the desk's edge, his hands forming a cage around you, both protective and possessive.  Your lips curved into a smirk, your teeth capturing his bottom lip and tugging with a teasing pressure, probably a little harder than you should have, causing him to pull back. "Christ, sweetheart."
Instinctively, your hand rose to trace his bottom lip, smoothing over the swollenness your teeth had caused. A soft smile graced your features as you took in the delightful disarray of his appearance. With a satisfied nod, you left a featherlight kiss on his cheek and glided towards the door. "I love you, Mr. Hotchner."
His eyebrows knit together in loving exasperation as he observed your retreat, his hand absentmindedly caressing his lip. God, you kept life interesting. "I love you more, Mrs. Hotchner."
Emerging from Hotch's office, your hair perfectly disordered, a small smirk etched on your lips. You watch as the consultant's eyes stretch wide, a flush of embarrassment covering her cheeks. With a sly wink tossed her way, you glide towards Penelope and Morgan.
"Well, well, well," Morgan drawled, a sly grin spreading across his face as he watched the scene unfold, arms folded confidently over his chest. "I had a feeling those claws were just waiting for the right moment to strike."
"That's our girl! Showing the world whose boss without breaking a sweat." Penelope chirped. "Well, I mean, maybe a little sweat. I'm seriously striving not to speculate about what you two were doing in there."
A playful smirk dances on your lips as you peer over your shoulder at Hotch's door. "Just wait for it," you tease, fingers poised for the dramatic reveal as you count down. "3, 2, 1.."
Right on cue, Hotch steps out, looking every bit as ruffled as you'd intended. His tie hangs crooked, his suit crumpled, and you didn't miss the dark red tint around his bottom lip. The sound of Morgan and Penelope's laughter filled the air as you offered a nonchalant shrug. 
"It's all in the day's work, besties. A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do."
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mcondance · 1 month
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i won’t even lie, i’d be the office 🐱 idc. reid, hotch, and morgan could take alllllll of that stress out on me idccccc
-🐯
MDNI; reader’s outfit is referred to as “distracting” | no morgan included cause i don’t wanna fuck him oops | reader can be fucked against a wall
hotch comes in fuming. locks eyes with you and all it takes is him yanking at his tie and a nod towards the room where it always happens.
or, spencer’s irritated and frustrated cause he can’t figure the case out. wracking his brain for any piece of knowledge that could help him. he’s tired and aggravated, and as he leans back in his chair, taking in the office, there you are. pants tight enough to distract even wonder boy, and shirt clinging to your gracious body.
hotch beckons you into a back room, somewhere far away from the blood and carnage that has driven him into your arms, in between your legs and inside you while you sit on a forgotten desk, spread for him to fuel his frustration into something. something good.
you cry and you whine and you sob, and it hurts but it feels just how you need it to, hotch gives it to you just how you like it. the sounds you give him are confused, don’t know whether they want to be sobs of pain or cries of pleasure and at this point, who gives a damn.
you use his first name, unusual and reserved, choking out “aa-” and just barely reaching the rest because he’s reached that spot inside you, and if he can’t solve the case, then he damn sure can make you feel good and make himself feel good too.
spencer’s an office fuck. he needs you on top of him, thighs wet and braced on either side of his legs, chair backed up against the wall so it doesn’t buckle under the force of you and spencer’s ruts and grinds and fucks.
you fuck the frustration out of him, have him choked up and slipping on his words like only you can. head thrown back with you speaking praises and promises in his ear, he’s grateful to have you around whenever he needs to blow off some steam. or, when he needs you to blow it off for him.
he’s cried, let his anger roll down his red face and drop down onto his button-up. other times, when he feels like everyone has everything together except him, he handles you differently.
still frustrated, he’s got you pinned against the wall before you can speak his name. he’s desperate and upset, and he fucks like it. ruts into you and screws you like he’s not the skinniest guy you’ve ever seen.
“stress relief” is what they call you. they’ve got too much love and admiration for you to call you anything else.
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show-your-fangs · 9 months
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What about a teenage!Jack where his friends are over and keep commenting how his Mom (reader) is attractive and Aaron finds it funny but Jack is mortified?
this is fucking GOLD. enjoy another installment of moments au
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Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!Reader
Words: 665
CW: nothing, cursing mostly.
Tags/warnings: jack's friends being pervs, cursing, jack defending his mom and dad.
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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Aaron honestly couldn’t blame them. He honestly found it funny, how their cheeks would flush every time you walked past, seconds away from catching them saying the most inappropriate things about you. He knew they didn’t know he could hear them from his office, the angle keeping him hidden as he tried to work while also allowing for their voices to carry down the hall. 
Jack had brought his friends over for a pool day and he’d requested that the two of you leave them alone, that they could fend for themselves. But as much as he’d pleaded, you were still unable to stop yourself.
You’d made them snacks, prepared a homemade ice tea, would check in every so often to make sure they were doing okay. And every time, without fail, his friends would pretend to be utter gentlemen, thanking you profusely until you left them alone once more and they turned from the kids their parents through they were into the horny teenagers they really were. 
It became clear to Aaron immediately why Jack didn’t want you around. It had nothing to do with his independence but rather the fact that his friends clearly didn’t know how to act around his mom. They’d made every inappropriate comment a teenage boy could come up with, and every time Jack would groan or roll his eyes or politely ask them to chill. But every time you showed your face the comments would start up again. 
It was after lunch when shit hit the fan. You’d ordered a big family meal style delivery, had set up the large containers in the kitchen, with the boys’ help which they were eager to give, and had made a plate for yourself and Aaron. They thought you couldn’t hear them in the kitchen, thought they were being so slick, but they should’ve known better than to not wait for you to exit the room. 
“I still don’t know how your dad bagged her,” Eric started, clearly teasing. “She’s just so—”
“So out of his league,” Dylan finished and the two of them snickered together. 
“If I had a step mom like that…” Nick sighed and the other two chuckled, no words needed for the four of them to know what he wanted to say. Jack couldn’t help but cringe, the mere thought of his stupid friends thinking about you this way appalling. 
“You boys need anything else?” you said loudly from the kitchen, a cue for them to stop talking as you pushed the door open with your hip. 
“We’re okay, thanks mom,” Jack’s voice was chipper like it always was with you, always soft and kind. His friends’ immediately perked up at your requests, their eyes sparkling with what you could only imagine were requests that you definitely didn’t want to know about. 
“Thank you, Mrs. Hotchner,” they practically sang in unison, their teasing only getting more pronounced as you walked down the hall, desperately trying not to give them anything else to talk about, but apparently that was completely useless.
“Check out her ass—”
“Shut the fuck up, dude,” you heard Jack groan, his patience finally running thin. His friends stilled in an instant, your instinct to fix it slowly creeping up from your heart to your brain. But Aaron was quick, his hand wrapped around your waist before you could move. “How would you like it if I talked about your mom like that?”
Silence. 
“That’s what I thought,” he stated, confident. “So can you please just stop it?”
His words were followed by a string of mumbles and murmurs in agreement, ashamed apologies and admissions of guilt. 
You couldn’t help but chuckle, Aaron quickly pulling you into his office so the two of you could erupt in a fit of giggles. It was cute, almost too adorable that the boy you’d met so long ago was now defending your honor to his friends, was standing up for his mom, for his dad, for his family. 
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okay i'm trying to get through some of the requests. i apologize for not being as active, you know how fanfiction authors' lives go off the rails sometimes.
i'm going to try and post a few of these before my "taking some time off" announcement. i've got a big week coming up but know i am trying.
tag list: @ssamorganhotchner, @canuck-eh, @cr1minalskies, @xladyxdreamer
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slutforsilverfoxes · 9 months
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Imagine…
BAU!reader being married to Hotch but keeping her maiden name in the field to avoid assumptions and judgment. The team knows, obviously, but then a former colleague of Aaron’s from the Seattle office happens to be in town for a conference and wants to catch up over a drink. You can’t help but tease him, of course:
“Knock, knock,” you murmur, leaning against the doorway to your husband’s office. With a glance at your watch, you ask, “Y’gonna be late for your date?”
Aaron looks up at you with a frown before returning his attention to his case file and mumbling, “Not a date.”
“Mm, my apologies,” you respond with a twitch of your lips as you approach his desk. You lean your elbows on the dark wood and rest your chin in your open hands. Batting your eyelashes, you amend, “It’s a meeting betwixt old coworkers.”
Aaron rises from his chair, pressing his fists against the desk opposite you and positively towering over your smaller stature. He meets your fiery gaze with equal defiance, then leans forward to press a kiss to your lips and murmurs, “Are you our resident Reid while he’s with his mom? Who says ‘betwixt’?”
“Oh, shut up, nerd,” you taunt back between kisses of your own. “You collected coins; I played Scrabble. Now get going! Can’t leave a lady waiting for the Aaron Hotchner.”
—————
But WAIT! There’s more! Said agent gets a call while they’re out for a drink and asks Aaron and the BAU for help on a new case. Naturally, you all have to fly to Seattle together…
“Mama, you know this cabin is pressurized, right?” Derek teases with a nudge of your shoulder.
You mumble back around a sip of coffee, “Yeah, so?”
“So if you glare any harder, you’re gonna burn a hole through the jet and we’re all gonna die up here.”
Emily snorts out a laugh and you steal a Cheeto from JJ’s snack (for which you’re met with a stern, “Hey!”) to throw at her. Emily collects the offensive projectile from her lap and pops it into her mouth with a ferocious chomp in your direction, receiving an, “Oh, bite me, Prentiss,” in response.
“Just find a way to slip in that you’re married,” JJ counsels, moving the bag out of your reach to avoid further retaliation.
“Or accidentally fall into his lap. Turbulence can be nasty, you know,” Emily offers as a follow up.
“Like that?” you deadpan, jutting your chin toward the scene at the back of the jet. Aaron and Agent Brandt are over by the coffee, and she’s just steadied herself using your husband’s broad shoulder.
“Or,” Derek counteroffers, tugging at the chain around your neck that holds your wedding and engagement rings while you’re out in the field, “put this rock on and go claim your man!”
“This is dumb. I’m being dumb,” you grumble, flipping open the case file and burying your head in it. “Can we get back to talking about this sociopath and not my high school-esque jealousy?”
“What’s happening? Did I miss anything?” Garcia’s blonde curls bounce up on the monitor before your group, ready for the next installment of this evidently riveting saga.
“Nothing is happening, Pen,” you respond with a sharp look her way, “and y’all need to get out more. Watch a romcom or something if you need some angst.”
“You all completely suck,” Penelope sighs dramatically. “My cup runneth empty in my lair!”
“Then go get yourself another cappuccino, baby girl,” Derek answers smoothly with that dazzling smile of his, perched on the armrest of your seat.
You feel his presence before you hear his voice, every atom in your body suddenly on high alert and keenly aware of everything that is Aaron. “Hey.”
You look up at him with an easy smile, determined to not let your unwarranted bitterness reflect on your work. “What’s up, Hotch?”
He squats down in the aisle beside you so he’s not looming over you and brushes his knuckles across your cheek in an uncharacteristically tender touch, given your current audience. “Do you have that travel bottle of Advil? Brandt may have been overzealous with the margaritas last night.”
“Yeah, it’s… in the side pocket of my bag,” you answer, brow furrowed because he tossed it in there this morning to ward off your inevitable headaches during the coming late nights.
“You’re the best, honey,” he murmurs, standing halfway to press a kiss to your forehead before returning to his full height and going off in search of the pain killer.
“‘Overzealous with the margaritas’, huh?” Emily teases, then starts singing the viral song about just how many margaritas are needed to perform certain acts that shan’t be discussed in polite company.
From across the plane, Dave glances at Aaron who’s rummaging through the overhead luggage bin, then turns his attention to you with a knowing gaze. You avert your eyes, feeling a blush creeping across your cheeks, and settle back in your seat before flipping through the case file in front of you. “So crime scene photos would suggest we’re dealing with a disorganized killer…”
—————
But WAIT! There’s even more!
AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner
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hotchfiles · 3 months
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instead of hotch being protective what about bau!girly standing her ground when a reporter flirts with her man
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you knew better than to be jealous. aaron was more than loyal to you, more than faithful, to betray, to cheat, those were not things even in his vocabulary, definitely not in his moral code. but the thing is, you weren't jealous, you were baffled, to say the least. just before the press conference the woman you had your eyes fiercely glued on right now saw aaron gripping on your waist and placing a kiss on your forehead as you wished him good luck. she knew.
she knew very well she wasn't flirting with a single man, and she proved it every time she touched his arm after the cameras shut off, her eyes betraying her as she looked at you for few seconds at a time.
aaron had already told her he was busy and needed to leave, but she was insisting on keeping the one sided conversation going, taking advantage of his politeness and the fact he couldn't be rude to news reporters, he couldn't misrepresent the fbi.
luckily. or unluckily for him, he decided to date someone not as preoccupied with the bureau's image, so after the second time he tried to leave and the reporter held him by the wrist, you stepped in, gently taking her hand from him.
"for a news reporter you're really slow on catching on, huh?" your voice and the smile you gave her sickly sweet, aaron giving you his best i'm still your boss do not do this look, even if he knew you well enough to see it was a lost cause.
"excuse me!?" her eyes finally gave attention to anyone else rather than hotchner, giving you her best offended expression. it was pitiful, to try and conceal her true intentions from an experienced profiler, really.
"sweetie, this man is not interested in you. and we have a job to do here, so get off of him, will ya? jesus." you shook your head at her, not giving her time to try anything else, pulling aaron with you by the end of the sleeve of his blazer.
in other occasions he might have apologized for your behavior, but he was indeed bothered and he wanted to leave just as much as you wanted to take him out of there. it was nice to be the protected one at times. and it was cute to see you jealous.
"what about the whole too mature to be jealous talk we had months ago?" he teases you, hugging you sideways.
"hotchner, don't try me, i could've arrested her, i was completely sane and controlled." you glanced up to him, met with his very known smile, lips lightly turned as he shook his head at you.
"arrested her in what grounds!?"
"trespassing federal property! i'm a federal agent and she was touching my property!" you're obviously making fun of the situation now, but your face looks dead serious and you're using your most threatening voice tone.
"terrible, awful, jealous thing you." aaron laughs and you mock his list of adjectives directed at you, he opens the door of the suv so you can get on the passenger seat, and he puts the seat belt on you, kissing you tenderly right after. "i love you."
"love you too."
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greg-montgomery · 3 months
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Aaron - princess treatment - Hotchner 🎀
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hornyramostan · 8 months
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GIRL BREAKFAST, GIRL LUNCH AND GIRL DINNER
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ssahotchnerr · 7 months
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jack jumping into bed with you and aaron at the literal crack of dawn 😭
he justifies being awake that early because the sun is just peeking over the horizon, so you and aaron don’t bother trying to convince him to go back to bed because there’s nooo way he’s going to, and you’re both just too plain tired to argue LOL
so therefore, he’s snuggled in between the two of you, talking rapidly, wide awake while you and aaron are still sooo groggy, voices heavy with sleep and are struggling a bit to keep up with him in the conversation — jack has to repeat what he says several times because you both miss it due to that sleepy brain fog. aaron even nods off at one point, which makes jack all >:( daddy. and he jolts back awake 😭
but eventually aaron gets up to go on a run, with promises of pancakes when he’s gets back <333 but once he returns, he comes back to both you and jack fast asleep again 🥰💕💞💓 but sticking to his word, and because he’s wide awake now, he’s off to the kitchen (after he showers) to get started on breakfast for you all 🥰
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lefthandedhotch · 8 days
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hi lin <3 last year i sent u asks about bodyguard!hotch and i’m thinking abt him again 😩 (this is not a request i just need to tell someone my thoughts hehe) but famous!reader being under the protection of the bau but u keep cheekily flirting with aaron and u briefly catch him checking u out from a distance so u wink and smirk at him. and on ur last day u flirt with him again and he surprises u cupping ur face with one hand and saying ‘maybe if we met under different circumstances’ and smirks
hiiiiiiiiiii <33
PLS! so handsome!!!!! at first you’re just flirting with him because he’s there and he’s handsome and you need something to take your mind off of the fact that you need literal fbi protection but then you start spending more time with him :( and you start to Really Really like him :( especially when you’re having a bad night because you’re really scared about what’s going on and you can’t sleep at all so you go down to make yourself some calming tea or a drink to help yourself relax and you find aaron still awake on the couch (in the worlds cutest pajamas and white tshirt that make you SWOON) reading a book and when he smiles over at you, you take your cup and go sit with him on the couch fully intent on bugging him about why he’s still awake to distract you from the fact that you are 🤭 but!!! he clocks you immediately and asks if you’re okay or if you want to talk about being scared :( and he’s just so so sweet to you and lets you hang out with him until eventually you get sleepy and he helps you back up to your room but after you get all settled in bed he goes to leave until you grab his wrist and whisper “please stay. at least until i’m asleep” and he does <3 with that worried furrow stuck right between his brow because he cares about you a lot and when you’re deep asleep and snoring (despite the fact that you were Adamant that you don’t snore 🤭) he squeezes your hand that’s still all wrapped up in his and he promises you that he’s gonna keep you safe 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕💕💕💕💕
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mcondance · 1 month
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office pussy!reader asking hotch to come over and help build some new furniture only to get fucked on said new furniture ??
-🐯
MDNI 18+ not much expansion on my Thing abt him being a Man cause i have plans that i cannot share with you all at this time | reader is shorter than hotch
it’s not like it’s out of the question. you and hotch in a space together, you in a little pair of shorts and a little tee, him in his second uniform as you call it, a red polo and some cargos.
fucking isn’t out of the question when you’re alone with him. it doesn’t always happen. but there’s the times it does.
you’d asked him earlier if he could swing by after work to put a little vanity together, telling him that you could, but you know he’d get it done much faster.
his hands work diligently, eyes flitting between the pieces in his hand and the instructions on the floor.
and he looks. . god he looks good. he’s doing this for you, stationed on the ottoman at the end of you bed, focused, eyebrows furrowed, muscles tightening and loosening as he works. you bring him juice and snacks, flirting just a little as you feed them to him with a knowing little glint in your eyes.
he knows what you’re doing. but he’s as much of a worker as he is a player. he’s got to work now.
and as he places the finishing touches on the vanity and places it where you ask, he can play now.
play.
his hands find your waist between that little shirt and shorts, lips moving against yours like he’s hungry for you. he’s always hungry for you.
your arms are thrown over his shoulders and it’s limbo for a second, filthy kisses taken and given in the middle of your bedroom until he’s walking you back toward the vanity, leaning back against it and opening his legs so you can fit between them.
here, he cups your face in his big hands, devouring you. you grip at his shirt, pulling him to you until he’s walking you, and you’re placed against the vanity now.
clothes don’t mean a thing, his pants unbuttoned and your shorts simply pulled to the side.
the vanity shakes and bumps, banged into the wall by his lewd thrusts, pushes so good your legs clasp behind his back, arms throw over his shoulders and tense up, mouth falls open with cries and sobs. he’s fucking you in every sense of the word, driving into you so beautiful and sweet your body aches, all fuzzy around the edges.
he groans and hums, his chest vibrating against yours. strong arms hold you, make his moves that much better. cries and sobs spill out of your mouth, all you can give him with how he’s screwing you against the furniture he’d just built.
after, with his polo all wrinkled and your face sticky with tears, you tell him thank you, since you’d only gotten to tell him the vanity looks good before you jumped each other’s bones. he hums in you’re welcome, a knowing little laugh trailing behind.
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show-your-fangs · 10 months
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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
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slutforsilverfoxes · 6 months
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Imagine…
Starting to make dinner in Aaron’s apartment on a Thursday night. He’s just gone for a shower, washing away his last case and the worst parts of the world that he falls privy to day in and day out as Unit Chief of the BAU.
You’re humming along to your oldies but goodies playlist while sipping a glass of white wine that’s too sweet for Aaron’s liking. As the current song fades out and the familiar notes of a Bee Gees tune start, you realize with a smile just how many of these songs you've compiled make you think of your love.
And, speak of the furthest thing from the devil, suddenly he’s there, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind as his body perfectly molds to the dips and curves of your own. He guides you back and forth in a gentle sway, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he releases a deep sigh.
You allow your eyes to drift shut and your head to fall back against Aaron so you can bury your nose in the crook of his neck. "Sauce'll burn," you mumble, letting his familiar smell wash over you and sending warm tingles throughout your body.
"Let it," he responds just as softly. "We'll order something. Need to hold you."
You release a sound of contentment that's half-sigh, half-hum, nuzzling even deeper into him as if you can become one person if you try hard enough. In this moment, there's no yesterday or tomorrow. There's no anticipation of the next phone call that will take your love across the country again. There's no darkness, no fear, no evil lurking around the corner. There's just you and the man you love more than anything else in the world.
You dot gentle kisses along the expanse of his skin that you can reach without moving, and he squeezes you tighter in response. "Marry me," Aaron breathes out on a sigh. "I'll make it more romantic later, I promise. Just tell me you'll be mine forever."
"Oh, my baby," you murmur. "I already am."
—————
AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner @iyv-ray24 @mrs-ssa-hotch @criminalskies @callm3c0nfus3d
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strvwberrymilk · 6 months
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I want him to look at our love child like this. That is literally my baby. I love him so much. Please give me your babies.
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sirpotys · 1 month
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There's not much to say, just that this applies very well to them.
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greg-montgomery · 3 months
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Texts from Aaron or Greg (or both if you want) when you wake up and they're working on Valentine's Day 🥹🥰😭
our loves 🥹
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my overwhelmed and overstimulated ass is definitely not like 2 seconds away from writing self-indulgent head-cannons on what the BAU team would be like with an autistic kid, mmhmmmm, no way.
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