Aaron Hotchner X You - Tumblr Posts

Dinner for Three

Summary: Going to the BAU with the intention of dragging your boyfriend away from working all night proves to be a good decision when you meet a team member of his who needs some cheering up based on the ending scene of 11x09 with an Aaron Hotchner x reader component

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (fluff)

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: a very slight sexual reference

You're slightly disappointed when you get Aaron's call.

He'd left the BAU early that night to pick you up for your 8 pm dinner date. It hadn't worked, and he texted you something cryptic about a new case involving a longer-running case that concerned the team's technical analyst.

As always, he was incredibly apologetic, calling you as soon as he had a chance, but you don't mind. You know how important his job is and the sacrifices he has to make. Plus, the other times this has happened, he more than made it up to you, proving to be the sweet boyfriend you know he is.

He texts you the next night to let you know they're still working, but he's okay and in Virginia. It's so late that you don't get a chance to text him back until the morning, and you're just hoping he got some sleep during the night, but it doesn't seem likely.

On the second night, he's more upbeat, delivering the good news about his case closing. Oddly, you don't get another message that he's on his way into DC.

With your own profiling effort, you deduce he went to the BAU and got stuck into his paperwork, no doubt putting eating and sleeping at the bottom of his priority list. As a diligent girlfriend, you're walking out the door of your apartment to force him to leave to get something to eat before you can overthink about having never been to his office or the possibility he might not want to see you.

After making it through security and proving who you're there to see, you take the elevator to the sixth floor. It's dead silent, probably because it's close to 10 at night.

Aside from the fluorescent overhead lights in the bullpen and the corridor, the only other light on is an office on the left after you step off the elevator.

It has to be Aaron's since he's most likely the only one here, you reason as you walk toward the door. Gently you tap on the doorframe, but the woman inside definitely isn't your boyfriend.

There are personal belongings in the office, clothing, and boxes scattered on the sofa and table, and two suitcases on the floor, like someone's been living out of the office, and judging by the jacket's pattern, it could be the woman in the room.

She jumps when she sees you, and you quickly apologize. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

She shakes her head. "No. No, it's okay."

Then you realize it's weird that you're just standing there without an explanation, a total stranger. "I'm looking for Aaron Hotchner."

Nervousness flashes across her features. "Agent Hotchner is due back soon. Sorry, who are you?"

It's a question you expected, knowing you might bump into other agents, despite hoping you wouldn't. Aaron has told you about how he keeps his personal life, and therefore you, further away from his professional life than he used to, and you're not sure he'd want his team to know who you are.

You also should have anticipated the suspicion in her voice since people out there want to hurt them and could find their way into the offices to do so.

"His...friend." You settle on. It doesn't even sound right to say anymore. "Although, if he said that about me, he'd be in trouble." You joke mostly to yourself.

She looks more excited now, grinning like a little kid who's found a secret block of chocolate. "I'm Penelope Garcia, the BAU's technical analyst."

"Oh, of course. Aaron talks a lot about you." You tell her, putting a face to the stories as you shake her hand. "I'm Y/n L/n."

"The reason he smiles every time he checks his phone nowadays?" She asks, now eager.

Heat rises to your cheeks. You've seen the smile Penelope's talking about when you catch Aaron looking at you before he bashfully looks away. It's adorable and heartwarming to think about him doing it around his colleagues and probably trying to hide it.

"Sometimes." You downplay it. "It could be him getting a picture of Jack."

She shakes her head. "No, he shows us those. Texts ding on his phone, and he tries to hide his smile, and that's how we know it's not BAU-related. Theories about what they are and who they're from is the hottest gossip around here."

"It better be me then." You say, although you have no doubts that it is. "Otherwise, he's got some explaining to do."

Penelope laughs lightly. "Don't worry. He's about as loyal as they come."

You had come to that conclusion by yourself, but it's good to have it verified by someone who has known him for over a decade.

She catches your eyes wandering around the room and explains it. "I don't know how much you know, but I'm on lockdown here until further notice."

"Aaron mentioned it vaguely." You tell her. "I'm sorry. It must suck." It's not the most aesthetically pleasing home with bleak concert walls, generic lamps, and no closet. She's provided you with information about Aaron's whereabouts and character, so it's your turn to try and help her. "This couch wouldn't look as bad with some sheets, and I'm sure you've got some decorations. I can help. Only if you'd like, no pressure."

Instantly, she sees the optimistic side of you that Aaron admires and loves. "Yeah." Penelope agrees slowly. "Thank you."

She hasn't wanted to take anything out of her bags because it means this nightmare would be real, but you're offering to help, and she realizes she could do with a friend. If she happened to stumble across information about her boss during the process, then so be it. 

You help her brighten up the room, complimenting her comfort decorations.

"So, what's it like to be in a relationship with Aaron Hotchner?" She asks you as she fluffs the throw pillows on the couch, and you hang fairy lights.

After ten minutes of non-Aaron-related talk, you know she's been refraining from asking questions about your relationship. 

"Amazing." You answer effortlessly. "He's..." You trail off from your sentence when someone clears their throat, and you turn around to see your handsome but tired-looking boyfriend standing in the doorway. "Hey."

His expression softens seeing you there, but his features show confusion. "Hey." He returns while acknowledging Penelope with a nod as he steps further into the room. The hand not holding his briefcase comes to rest on your lower back, and you lean into his warmth. "What are you doing here?"

You weren't expecting him to show you physical affection in front of people he knows, but it's a welcomed surprise. "I thought I'd come and convince you not to sit at your desk doing paperwork all night."

He avoids being very unprofessional and asking exactly how you planned to distract him since you're under the careful observation of Penelope, who's memorizing your interaction to repeat to the team tomorrow. 

"There are still a few things we need to go over, Garcia," Aaron says to her. About the case they just closed, you figure, but it can't be overwhelmingly good news because he wouldn't stretch out telling her that she's safe. "Are you going to be okay?"

You admire her bravery as she nods with tears filling her vision. "I'm gonna make myself a vegetarian omelet for dinner." She says before pausing. "Do you both want to stay?" She quickly backtracks. "Forget that. You've probably got places to be, sorry."

Aaron looks to you for your judgment, and although he's letting you decide since this would typically be time you two spend together, there's an answer he would prefer. 

"No, we've got nothing planned, and I'm starving." You confirm. Penelope's face lights up, the sadness she's holding onto about her new living quarters feeling less heavy. "Do you have jalapenos?" 

"Do I have jalapenos?" She repeats, suggesting an obvious answer. She moved to grab the ingredients. "I should let you know that I have had a love affair with all things hot and spicy since I was, like, 12."

You smile at her delight as Aaron takes the chopping board she handed him with a bowl full of jalapenos. "Maybe the more important question is will you judge me for putting them on my food even if they make me cry a little?" You ask, nudging Aaron, who knows the incident you're referencing.

She looks at him in horror before turning back to you. "Is there any other way to eat them?" She asks.

"Someone." You nod to Aaron, who's getting to work on his task. "Eats spicy food without even tearing up."

He snorts out a laugh. "You weren't crying 'a little.'" He reminds you, defending himself playfully. "It was full-on crying with mascara tracks down your cheeks. You should have seen her, Penelope." He continues. "Seriously, I thought we were about to get kicked out of that restaurant. The waitress was so concerned." He laughs at the memory. He concluded that night that your crying with pleasure tendency is much better when it's only the two of you.

You lightly hit him on the shoulder to scold him before letting your hand linger to test the boundaries. He relaxes under your touch, muscles relaxing a little.

"It's a natural reaction." You jokingly argue back. "I'm on a spicy food ban at restaurants now." You inform Penelope.

"Oh, you've got to come to the next pasta night at Rossi's." She tells you. "It's the best food you can get, no jalapenos involved."

You look to Aaron for permission, not wanting to agree to something if he doesn't want you around his friends. He smiles lightly at you, now knowing introducing you and merging two parts of his life isn't as risky as he thought it might be.

"I'd love that." You agree. "Ready for that, Aaron?"

"Please agree." Penelope jumps in. "They'll love her. Don't worry." She assures you. "I'll make sure the team knows how perfect you are for him." 

Aaron chuckles beside you. "I don't doubt that." 

There's a double meaning that you and Aaron catch. Most obviously, Aaron knows the team will find out about your dinner together and probably learn every detail about you that they can before you officially meet, and additionally, he doesn't have any doubts that you're perfect for him.

I need this

Aaron’s wife getting drunk on spiked egg nog at a party with the rest of the BAU and she’s just all over Aaron. Kissing every part of his face and pinching his cheeks, she even tells the rest of the team cute stuff he does for her and being like “isn’t he the bestest hubby ever?!” Aaron’s just in the corner blushing lol

lovestruck and eggnog

!!!!!!!!!!!<3333 cw; fem!reader, reader is intoxicated, mentions of drinking, fluff, small allusions to sex/praise

in the midst of the party, you made your way back to aaron. he's been seated in the same spot for a while - exactly where you had been with him an hour ago - but still, his presence surprised you, your few glasses of spiked eggnog all to thank.

you promptly dropped yourself onto his lap, absolutely buzzing. your voice was on the sing-song side, your words slurring together the smallest amount. "hi handsome."

"hi honey," aaron chuckled quietly, amusingly wrapping an arm securely around your waist. his eyes scanned you, quick to notice your current state. "having fun?"

"a ton." you nodded giddily, "especially now, now that i'm with you." you reached past him, grabbing the santa hat perched atop derek's head - "hey!" - and sloppily onto aaron's, rather lopsidedly at that.

a giggle erupted from you, "look how cute you look!" you turned to derek, wrapping your arms loosely around aaron's neck. you squeezed him softly, causing your cheek to come flush with his. "isn't he so cute?"

derek snorted faintly, covering it up by bringing his drink to his lips. "he's a stunner, for sure."

aaron subtly glared at morgan, while you continued. "i love you, just so much." you placed a kiss on his cheek. and then another. and then another.

aaron laughed gently as his hands sprawled across the span of your back, holding you close - and steadily - to him. the more you littered kisses across his skin, the more his cheeks flushed, "what're you doing?"

"loving on you silly." you gave him an almost offended look, before your face returned to that soft, lovey-dovey expression. "because i love you. and i love being your wife." you took his face in your hands, planting a kiss onto his lips. "i love that i get to do this wheneverrr i want."

quick to reciprocate, but more reservedly in view of his colleagues, aaron gave you one more, small peck, "i love you too darling."

"you're perfect." your focus went back to derek, as emily and penelope joined the three of you as well. "he's perfect. wanna know what perfect things he does?"

"don't hold back on us," emily egged you on completely, at the playful expense of aaron - she shot him thoroughly entertained look.

"he gives me soo many back rubs, especially if i have a bad day. he leaves me sticky notes everywhere. on my coffee mug, on the bathroom mirror, on my pillow if he leaves early. i find a ton when you're all gone on a case, i don't even know how he does it." your nose scrunched a tad, befuddlement in your voice. "must be magic."

"and what do these notes say?" penelope asked eagerly, as if she's been waiting forever to hear details when it comes to a certain boss. (to be fair, she has.) (more often than not, you've spared them the specifics just as much as aaron.)

a wickedness came forth in your eyes, your lips pulling into a smirk. your hand found the back of aaron's neck, your fingers brushing through the nape of his hair. "he left me one yesterday that said he'd like to-"

"okay." aaron interrupted, kissing the spot of skin behind your ear and halting your words. "sweetheart, if you continue, i'll never hear the end of it."

you complied, but just for a second. "he's just so cute." you cheesed, pinching his cheek gently. despite the fact you were very much inebriated, you were well aware enough to not actually hurt him. "he's all i want for christmas." after your statement, your smirk quickly resurfaced, your current no-filter flowing freely. "i've been a good girl, haven't i, aaron?"

another snort exited a wide-eyed derek, and you missed the others' very taken aback reaction as your gaze shifted to aaron, whose blush was prominent as ever.

"what?" you pouted softly, confusion arising on your face.

a mix between a sigh and a breathless laugh left aaron through his nose, affectionately patting your hip and transferring the santa hat onto your head, "i think that's enough eggnog for you tonight."

crazy

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: after one heated and spontaneous night together, aaron can’t seem to get his pretty subordinate (or her pussy) out of his head.

content warnings: smut, 18+, minors do not interact!, pussy!whipped hotch, age gaps, dirty talk, rough unprotected office sex, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving, mentions of m receiving in the past), choking, hair pulling, ass slapping, groping, some angst if u squint, love confessions and some asshole behavior, hotch is a munch and masturbates in his office.

word count: 6.5k (yea…)

a/n: this may seem a lil out of character for hotch? we all know he’s a professional thru and thru but the point is this is that he’s pussy whipped! also lots of flashbacks in italics whoopsies <3

Aaron was sure he was going crazy.

Or maybe he already was, and he was just starting to feel the effects of his craziness.

Aaron Hotchner, usually poised in a way that unwillingly intimidated others and made them back away from him, was unraveling in a way he had never done so before.

Having a one-night stand with his subordinate, the same subordinate he had been harboring painfully arising feelings for literal years, often led to such a reaction.

He could still recount every single detail from that night, from the moment the tension between you both began building itself up to the moment it actually snapped. It was as if he had everything engraved in his mind; the views he never thought he'd get to see to the things he never thought he would get to feel etched into his brain.

It had all been a blur that night, and a part of Aaron still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you reciprocated his attraction towards you, letting him, not only touch you but also fuck you.

You two had stayed up late in your shared hotel room only to talk, really. After you and the rest of the team had wrapped up a somewhat good case, you only wanted to rant to one another. Aaron knew that you weren’t a ‘whiskey girl,’ or whatever it was that you said, but he had offered you a drink either way.

Neither one of you had even gotten tipsy, so he couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol. But the connection had always been there, though, one thing finally leading to another and all the unsaid words and stolen glances between you both began to surface.

It was as if everything you both silently felt for another was starting to seep through and everything that hindered you from telling each other no longer mattered.

It had felt so hot, from the way you held him close with your legs wrapped around his waist to the messy yet passionate kisses you shared, your bodies connected beneath.

It was everything Aaron envisioned it to be. But, as magical and heated as it was, he was the one to have ended things before they even had a chance at starting.

The morning after, as soon as you had both untangled your bodies from one another and got dressed to get back home to Quantico, he had done the stupidest thing imaginable.

“We shouldn’t do this again.”

You froze in your spot, half-way through tugging your pants up your legs. You blink at him from where he stood on the other side of the bed, already dressed, “This?”

“Yes.” Aaron says, voice awfully neutral.

You frown, jutting out your bottom lip that same way you did when you were thinking, “May I ask why?”

He takes a deep breath, “I’m your boss,” he gives you a pointed look, as if he had to remind you after fucking you dumb, “and you’re my subordinate. This goes against several workplace regulations and if anyone were to find out we could both lose our jobs.”

You’re quiet for several moments after that, and Aaron uses the silence to his advantage to prepare for any arguments you could be thinking of to use against him. He can’t seem to read you, though, your expression pensive as you stare at the floor.

Then you shrug. “Okay.” You say, simple and nonchalant.

Aaron watches as you continue finishing getting ready and he doesn’t know if he should ask if you were actually okay with it.

He decides that it’s for the best, not getting any pushback or having to argue on why he’s just subconsciously pushing you away after having one of the best nights of his life.

“Okay.” He repeats, giving you a small nod, even though you weren’t looking at him. With one last glance to your surprisingly calm figure, he finishes collecting the rest of his things and heads out of the room.

Even after the team had checked out of their hotel and settled onto the jet, you didn’t spare him a second glance. You hadn’t necessarily moved to ignoring him or silently lashing out, but it was as if everything went back to normal, with no mentions or glances back to that night.

That should be what was driving him crazy; the way he didn’t know if you were only calm because you were planning on going to the higher-ups, to HR, about what had happened. If you were secretly planning on putting him on blast out of anger or betrayal or telling him that he had coerced you to sleep with him and threatened you in case you didn’t.

No. What was driving him crazy was that he couldn’t get you out of his head, even after he broke things off.

Everything was engraved into his mind, from the sight of you on your knees, mouth full of his cock while you stared up at him with tear-pricked eyelashes and basked in his praises. Or the way your nails dug into his skin as he thrusted into you and the way you felt around him, all while he took pleasure in the sweet sounds he emitted from you every second.

He was going mad, and the already established feelings he had for you weren’t helping, either.

Aaron stared at you from inside his office, studied your features from afar whilst you sat on your desk. Your face was set in a neutral expression, flickering your attention from your computer screens to the physical files in front of you, but all he could see was the same face and person morphed into the one that had been withering in pleasure underneath him.

“Hotch…” you whine, a hand wrapped around his bicep as he dipped a finger inside your glistening pussy.

He watched as your back arched off the bed, throwing your head back against the pillows at the feeling of his thick digit inside you, “What, sweetheart?” He asked, the nickname rolling of his tongue easily. “What do you need? Hm?”

Your hips stuttered as he inserted another finger, thrusting them in and out you, “Y-You. I want you. Inside me.” You peered at him through your fluttering lashes, your mascara smudged underneath your eyes from the tears that had slipped out while you were sucking his cock.

“Yeah?” His voice is filled with amusement and bewilderment, one part of him indulging in seeing you this way—all disheveled and needy for him—while the other was still stunned at the whole thing. “Want my cock inside you after you just had it in your mouth?”

You nod meekly at his words, a sweet pout adorning your flushed lips.

Despite the heat and tension that suffocated the room, Aaron’s heart fluttered at the sight of you. The way you were asking for him ever so bashfully after just giving him the best head of his life tugged at his heartstrings and made his cock twitch.

“Please,” you whisper, bucking your hips upwards. A stuttered gasp emits from your lips when you feel the tip of his dick prod at your sopping entrance, “Aaron…”

Aaron lets out a low, throaty groan at the sound of his first name mumbled in desperation, and he thinks back to all the times he’s thought about you like this. How many times he’s dreamed of having you underneath him, encaged by his broad figure and whining for him.

“I got you, sweet girl,” he says promisingly. He lifts himself to his full height on his knees, lining himself up with your entrance and holding onto the meat of your thigh. Another groan utters from the back of his throat, mixed in with your gasps and puffs of breath as he begins to sink inside you.

A knock on his office door forces Aaron to snap out of his train of thought. He looks down at himself, registering the painfully hard boner he was now sporting. Quickly, he scooted further into his desk so that the tent in his pants wouldn’t be visible by whoever was knocking on his door. Clearing his throat, he lets out a somewhat proper ‘come in.’

In walks Garcia, and Aaron doesn’t know if he should be thankful or mortified it was her out of all people.

“Sir?” She asks politely, files in hand and head tilted in an ever so Penelope manner. “We’re ready whenever you are.”

Right. It was barely nine in the morning and Aaron was already sporting a growing tent in his suit pants.

He nods, doing his best to feign being busy, “I’ll be there in five, Garcia.”

He wants to think he comes out as somewhat normal, but panic surges through him briefly when her expression turns into a curious one.

“Are you alright, sir?” She takes a step forward and Aaron has to hold himself back from screaming for her to stay where she is. “You look red and pale at the same time.”

He shakes his head, waving a hand dismissively yet good-naturedly, “I’m fine. Jack is coming down with something and I think I might be, too.”

Great. Now he was using his innocent son as a scapegoat for his own horniness and bad decisions. Some father he was.

Garcia nods, looking convinced enough before bidding him a nod shuffling out of his office and closing the door behind her.

Aaron lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. His boner had softened the slightest bit, and he was conflicted in trying to make it go down completely or taking care of it right here and now. But the thought of having to face his team after fucking himself into his fist mortified him. Of seeing you, right after fucking himself into his fist to the thought of you after leaving you hanging coldly.

He opted out of it, though it took more than five minutes to settle himself before heading over to the conference room. Once again, he tried to play it as casual as possible while he walked to his seat with everyone staring expectantly at him, including you.

“Let’s get started.”

The team’s briefings went on as so, everyone presenting their perspective cases and discoveries within them. It was a bit easier to lose focus of what he was thinking earlier when the gory crime scenes showed up on the TV screen each time someone went up, but all focus was lost when it was your turn.

You stood from your seat, taking the control from Penelope’s hands and talking everyone through the case you were currently focusing on.

Aaron held his fist up to his face as he tried to focus on the details of the case instead of you and your entire being. Your hair whipped out and into your face each time you looked from the screen and back to the team. The top part of your dress twisted with each turn and motion you made, the bottom part of it creasing along with it. Was it a new dress?

Didn’t matter. It didn’t compare to the pajama shorts he had slowly, almost tauntingly, pulled down your legs before–

“...makes me think he’s keeping them in a secluded space. He obviously likes the control and the pleasure of having his victims’ screams and cries for help to himself, so I’ve advised police to search condemned and empty areas far away from the city and even on the outskirts of the town.” You finished with a nod and once again Aaron was snapped away from his unholy thoughts.

While everyone else added their own commentary and advice, Aaron realized he had been the only to have not said anything during your presentation, too preoccupied with you once more.

“Adding in the possibility of him keeping them outside of the main town the victims have been found in was a smart move,” He quickly added, trying his best to comment on what he had paid attention to. His breath hitched when you turned to look at him. “Law enforcement might have missed that and can collaborate with police from the next town over. Good job.”

You smiled softly and nodded in appreciation, “Thank you.”

Fuck. How were you so nonchalant about this? Aaron’s mind wandered back to the probability of you getting back at him by going to Strauss about your rendezvous. It was only early morning Monday, the first day back in the office after said events, so it wasn’t a surprise he hadn’t heard anything from her. Yet.

He nodded back in response, though, casting his gaze downwards and collecting his things, “Great. I expect everyone’s reports to be on my desk by tonight, please.”

Everyone stood from their seats, shuffling out of the room with mumbled conversations. Aaron held back, taking his time in looking through his files and stacking them together while you did the same, leaving the two of you alone once everyone else had gone.

He wanted to say something, gather the courage to ask you something. Anything, just to make sure you were alright. If the two of you were still right, in spite of everything.

Only when you finished collecting things did he bring himself to open his mouth, a soft utterance of your name to get your attention.

You stopped in your tracks, a good couple feet away from him and the door. You stared at him, waiting for him to speak with a neutral expression on your face.

Not one of annoyance or irritation. Just expectant.

God, you really were driving him crazy.

You raised a brow when he didn’t say anything, “…Yes?”

He clears his throat again before asking, “Is everything okay?”

You blink and tilt your head, dumbfounded, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Aaron grips at his files, guilt consuming him all over again. “With us,” he clarifies, swallowing harshly. “Is everything okay with us?”

You blink a couple more times, eyes wandering to the side as if you’re trying to catch onto what he’s implying.

It makes his heart churn.

“Oh.” You finally say, meeting his gaze. “Yes. We both agreed, no? To what you said.”

Aaron can’t decipher if the smile you give him is genuine or jeering, and he can’t tell if what you say last is clarifying as his answer or if it’s something underlyingly petty.

Either way it’s something. You’ve given him something and he’ll take it.

He nods finally, “Yes, we did.”

You shrug, smiling a bit wider this time, “All good then.”

He gives another curt nod, stepping to the side so you could exit the room. He moves to follow behind you, but he gets a whiff of your perfume as soon as you brush past him. The scent makes him halt and he has to hold onto one of the back posts of a chair to stabilize himself.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the remnants that linger behind you for a moment.

He truly was going crazy.

The rest of the day goes by the same and hardly any work gets done on Aaron’s end. He’d scribble whatever he needed to write down or fill out then get distracted by the void of you.

It was getting impossible for him to keep working with the relentless problem that was his ongoing boner. He was tucked into his desk all the way yet it hurt whenever he leaned forward or backwards while moving around. Oftentimes he tried to give himself some sort of relief by running a hand over himself, but it didn’t help much, and the dirty thoughts about you certainly didn’t either.

The sounds that filled the room were lewd, your gags and moans from below mixed in with Aaron’s grunts and words of encouragement echoing off the hotel room’s walls. His large hand was entangled in your hair, pushing your head forward to take more of him, as if your jaw wasn’t aching enough already.

Though there wasn’t a way for him to tell, really. You gave no sign or indication that you wanted him to stop, your tongue swiping at the head of his cock each time he dipped your head even more. Saliva pooled from your tongue and leaked from your mouth, dripping into the carpeted floor and entailing a trail from your lips to your chin.

Aaron’s head was thrown back in utter pleasure and astonishment, bewildered that you’d ever be doing this to him. He didn’t want to finish before you, but it was taking everything him to not give in and fuck your face the way he truly desired.

He’d never received head this good, nor had he received it much recently. His legs were spread with you settled in between them contently. “That’s it sweetheart,” he mumbled, brushing fallen strands of hair out of your face lovingly. “Taking me so good, such a good girl.”

His praises only edged you on even further, bobbing your head up and down a couple more times before pulling off of him with a slick ‘pop!’ You rest your head on his thigh in an attempt to catch your breath, a shaky, stuttered sigh heaving from your chest as your hand comes up to continue the rest of your work.

Aaron has to run a hand over his face to try and keep his composure, his nails digging into the skin of his palm albeit their short length. He throws his head back against his chair, a grunt threatening to emit from his throat as he coercively runs his hand over his boner.

At least he wishes he can say it’s coercively, really it’s just a tainted image of you he’s embedded in his own dirty mind.

It doesn’t take long for Aaron to give in and reach inside his pants, sparing another careful glance to his now locked office door before springing his painfully hard cock free. A low, pleased grunt spills from his pursed lips as he wraps his hand around himself. He gives his length a good tug, bucking his hips up instantaneously, the same way he did when you first wrapped your mouth around him.

Still, as cautiously and quietly as possible, he begins to stroke at his length, a hand covering his mouth as he continues to dart his eyes from below himself to his door–as if anyone would walk in at any second and catch him jerking himself off in his own government-issued office.

He begins to imagine that his fist is you. That you’re sitting in the space between his legs with your hot mouth licking long stripes up his length and that your hand is toying with his balls the same way you did before. It only makes him pump at his fist even faster, the hand that was covering his mouth shooting down to the armrest of his chair, gripping at the cushioned leather as he began to reach his high.

“Fuck, Hotch, fuck!” Your whines are eccentric, head thrown back in pure ecstasy. Your legs wrap around Aaron’s waist, pulling him closer to you as he continues to thrust into your sopping pussy.

Aaron groans loudly, silently thanking that his and yours room was placed further down the hall from everyone else’s. His hands rest at the bottom of your thighs, his large hand gripping the flesh for support as he pounds into you relentlessly. Your pussy grips him like a vice and your nails dig into the skin of his biceps from where you hold him.

His sight is focused on you only, the way your tits bounce with each thrust and the way your mouth is curled into a wide ‘o’ from the pleasure you’re receiving.

“So good for me, baby,” he mumbles, hand coming down to grab at your breast, squeezing possessively before leaning down to crash his lips against yours hungrily.

You whine through the kiss, grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging while your other hand scratches at his back. A string of saliva connects at your lips when he pulls away, his head dipping down to kiss and suck at your neck while he grabs your hips to better pistol himself inside you.

A moan echoes through the room again and straight to his ear, your back arching into his chest, “Feels so good, Aaron, so good!”

Aaron’s release sputters everywhere messily and he has to bite at his fist to stop himself from groaning loudly. His come spills onto parts of his leg, his desk, and even onto the floor. He leans back into his chair, trying to contain himself and his heaving chest.

He takes a look at the mess he created–the mess you unknowingly entailed from him. Like clockwork, the paranoia and guilt from doing this begins to seep in and he’s quick to snatch a handful of tissues from the box he kept on the corner of his desk to clean himself up. He tucks himself back into his pants then moves to clean at his desk and his floor.

Clearly, he hadn’t known what he was thinking. Not when it came to calling things off between the two of you before they even happened and certainly not now after he realized the spell he was currently in.

The last hour of the work day comes by agonizingly slowly. After his little session, Aaron finds it a little bit easier to get the rest of his work done (key word: a little bit). The rest of the members all begin to spill into his office to hand in their finished paperwork and files, all of them sparing him brief glances of curiosity and concern–the same way Garcia had done earlier–before bidding him goodnight and leaving.

The only one that hasn’t come to hand in anything was you. He knew you were still here, he could see you sitting at your desk from the view through his blinds, scribbling away casually like you had been doing so the whole day. After you had stalled to follow behind the rest of your co-workers, Aaron had gotten up from his desk and pretended to be walking around his office with a file in hand, lifting his head every few minutes to see if you were ever making your way towards him to turn in your work.

He wanted desperately to know what you were thinking. If you were secretly being tortured by the recollections of your hook-up, too, or if you truly didn’t care about him basically dumping you after having sex with you and telling you that it could never happen again due to your perspective titles.

With a defeated sigh, he closes the file he was still pretending to read. His eyes instinctively travel back to where your desk was at and his breath immediately catches in his throat when he sees that you aren’t there. He hears the sound of footsteps approaching closer and closer through the staircase that leads up to his office and you walk in soon after.

You freeze in the doorway when you see that he’s already staring at you. Your eyes flicker to a space behind him then back at him before you take a tentative step back and glance at the clock hung on the wall facing his desk, “Uh, is this a bad time?”

“No!” Aaron takes a step forward when you take another one back. He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly, “No, no, it’s not. I didn’t know you were still here. Everyone else left almost half an hour ago.”

“Oh,” you glance back behind you to the rest of the bullpen before looking back at him. “I was just finishing up the reports you said you wanted done by the end of today.” You jut your chin toward the stack of files you were carrying in one arm.

“Right.” He clears his throat, motioning to the pile of files the rest of the team had stacked on his desk. “You can just leave them there.”

You nod, giving him a small smile.

He watches as you walk over to his desk, taking in your appearance while you double-check that everything was correct. He swallowed harshly, taking in the way your skirt hugged your lower figure perfectly the same way it did during the morning debriefing. Your hair flows ever so slightly and he takes in a good look at your side profile when you tuck a loose strand behind your ears while you continue to flip through the pages of your file.

You’re breathtakingly gorgeous and Aaron doesn’t know if what suddenly makes him start walking up behind you is from what he’s felt since sleeping with you or if it’s everything he’s felt since way before that.

You halt your movements when you feel his presence directly behind you, gasping when you turn and find how close he was standing.

“Hotch–” you gulp, heat blooming through your cheeks albeit feeling confused. “W-What are you doing?”

Aaron takes in your tone and he can tell that you’re not asking in a disgusted, annoyed way, more so in a flustered way. He lifts a hand to brush the hair that frames your face past your face but doesn’t actually move to do it, keeping it there to see if you push him away. But you don’t. So he brushes it away.

“I can’t get you out of my head.” He mumbles, eyes boring into the side of your face as you stare up at him as best as you can from your practically rigid figure.

You scoff, a sound filled with so much humor yet so little at the same time, “You were the one that said this couldn’t happen again.” You twist your head, trying to turn your body around more with the way he had you pressed against the front of his desk.

“That was a mistake,” he whispers. He dips his head so that his mouth is by your ear, watching you shiver from the proximity.

“A mistake?” You repeat, brows raised. You lull your head to the side but you don’t know if you do it to get away from him or to grant him access to your neck.

Aaron takes it as the latter and hovers his lips over your skin, the same spot where he had left splotches of pink and purple last time.

“Yes,” he confirms, “a mistake.”

You want to ask why he said it then, want to press him for answers but you can’t when his hot breath sends shivers down your spine and arms. Your legs go weak when he brings a hand around you to wrap at your middle, big hand splayed across your stomach to pull you in even closer, if possible.

“H-Hotch,” you clear your throat. “We can’t. You said so yourself.” You roll your shoulders back in a weak effort to push him away, but all he does is hold you tighter.

“I was wrong,” he mutters, pressing a feather-light kiss to the very side of your neck. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of your perfume again and letting out a pleased hum from the back of his throat. “I was so wrong.”

You gasp when he flings an arm out in front of you, proceeding to knock over the multiple things from his desk. Files, pens, and other trinkets fly off the hard wood and land on the floor with a loud crash. Aaron spins you around before you can process the whole mess, turning you around so that you were facing him.

“Aaron-!” Your mind is a whirlwind as he grabs at your hips and easily sets you down on the edge of the desk. His lips crash onto yours messily and you hum, satisfied.

The kiss quickly becomes sloppy and hungry, muffled whines as you two practically devour one another. Your hands wrap around his neck while his own roam your body, curious hands searching for the zipper of your dress and bunching up the fabric in the process. You mewl when he finally finds it and slowly tugs it down. You break apart from the kiss in order to help him, scrambling from side to side so that it comes off from under you.

Aaron lets out a groan at the sight of you as he tosses the dress to the side. You’re wearing a matching set: a lacy white bra that cups your breasts gorgeously and a lacy white thong paired with it. It takes everything in him to not come undone right then and there.

Holding your gaze, Aaron sinks to his knees, shrugging off his suit jacket as he kneels before you.

“Aaron…”

He immediately shushes you, discarding the jacket somewhere next to your dress on his office floor. “Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

Instead of obeying, you knock your knees together bashfully, the fat of your thighs pressing against each other.

Aaron’s eyes darken at your shy defiance. “I said spread your legs.” His hands come out to grab behind your knees and you gasp again when he spreads them apart forcefully, large hands holding them in place.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he utters, gaze locked on your soaked panties. His palms slide down your legs, eyes flickering back up at you as he begins to kiss at your calves. Each peck to your skin leaves a wet trail from your earlier kiss and you whine in anticipation as he makes his way up before coming face to face with your pussy. His fingers hook themselves inside the thin fabric and you immediately get the message, lifting your hips once more so he could slide them down your legs

Aaron swiftly shoves the wet material into his pockets, wasting no time before diving straight in and burying his head in between your thighs.

His tongue swiping at your folds elicits a loud moan from you, your hands shooting out to grab at his head, “Aaron!” You yell out, fingers tangling in his hair to stabilize yourself from the suddenness.

Aaron grunts from below you, the sound sending vibrations up your body and causing you to arch into his touch. He didn’t know how he hadn’t thought of tasting you that night in the hotel room, too preoccupied with the pleasure he had received from you. But–dare he say–this was better than head, better than anything else he had ever gotten, tasted or even done. He wasn’t even a minute into devouring you and he had already decided that this was the best pussy he had ever had in his whole life.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this pussy.” He lapped at your juices, mouth hot on your dripping cunt. His hands continued to grip at your thighs, large palms still keeping you in place from where you were writhing in pleasure.

“A-Aaron,” you whimper, grinding your hips against his face. “Please, I need you. Need you so bad.”

Your head was thrown back in utter bliss, hips stuttering with each nibble at your clit. Your fingers tugged his face closer despite the longing you had to feel him inside you, caging his head to keep him there.

Aaron couldn’t help but bask in the sounds he was pulling from you. It was as if his mouth had a mind of his own and all it could focus on was licking up every single one of your juices, the taste nearly intoxicating. He flickered his eyes up to you, taking in the way your chest heaved and your breasts pushed against the cups of your bra, practically spilling out.

Without removing his tongue from your pussy, he reaches behind you and easily undoes the hooks.

You let the straps fall from your shoulders and aid him in tossing it somewhere in the room along with your dress. Desperately, you reach for Aaron’s hands and place them on your breasts, groaning when he rolls each already hard and sensitive nipple in between your fingers.

Your legs begin to shake and you’re quick to wrap them around Aaron’s head, the heels of your feet digging into his muscular back. “Mm, fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you toss your head back as the coil in your belly threatens to snap.

“Yeah?” He teases, angling his head so that he could spit onto your cunt, all before diving right back in and swirling it together with your arousal. “You gonna cum on my mouth, honey?”

You nod, feverishly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer.

“Go ahead, pretty,” Aaron ushers, voice deep and rough from his non stop nibbling and sucking. “Come on my mouth, sweetheart.”

A certain bite on your clit immediately has you seeing stars and the office is soon filled with your cries of ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you violently. Your body shakes and stutters as you ride out the high on his face, leaning backwards until your back was resting against his desk.

Aaron doesn’t relent even as you begin to come down from your high, enhancing the way your legs shook from where they were wrapped around him.

“No, n-no more, Aaron, p-please,” you begged, keeping your back on the desk while weakly attempting to push him away.

“Just one more, honey. You can give me one more, can’t you?”

You don’t get the chance to answer, back arching off the desk as his fingers prodded at your entrance briefly before he shoved two inside. A high-pitched moan emitted from your swollen lips and your hips rutted against his face once more as he scissored the thick digits inside your gummy walls.

“That’s it, pretty girl, that’s it,” Aaron’s sultry words only encouraged you further, his face wet with your arousal and the release of your first orgasm. “I’m gonna make it up to you, sweetheart. But first you gotta give me another one.”

His thumb came up alongside his mouth to rub rough circles on your already sensitive, swollen clit and you immediately felt that coil snap once more, mixing in with the first orgasm you hadn’t even properly come down from.

“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron!” You mumbled dumbly, mouth agape and head hanging back from the desk as you rode out your second high on his face, the heavy wood shaking with every motion.

Aaron’s head was buried even further in between your legs, lips trying to catch every single drop that leaked from your hole, pulling out your fingers and cleaning them with a swirl from his tongue. He delivered a sweet kiss to your folds before standing, his knees cracking in response to being kneeled on the ground for so long.

He leans over, bringing a guiding hand to the back of your neck to get you to sit up, “You good, honey?” Aaron asks, brushing away the stray hands of hair that had stuck to your face. “Still with me?”

You hum, nodding weakly, “Need you, Aaron.”

Aaron chuckles at your fucked-out form, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head, “I got you, sweetheart. Bend over the desk for me.”

You stand on wobbly legs and do as he says blindly, the need to have him inside you outshining your nearing overstimulation. You feel yourself salivate as the sound of him undoing his belt is heard from behind you and you look back to watch him pull himself out from his boxers.

He hears you gasp when his cock springs out and hits against his stomach, tip an angry red and leaking with precome. He wraps a hand around himself and groans at how painfully hard he was. He quickly lines himself up with your entrance, slapping his length against your dripping folds before easing himself inside little by little.

You whine from in front of him when he bottoms out, the tip of his dick easily hitting your sweet spot the same way it did before in the hotel. This time, though, it feels even better with how wet you already were, his cock glistening when he pulls out before shoving himself back in roughly.

It doesn’t take long for Aaron to set a brutal pace, hands on your hips as he begins to pound into you from behind ruthlessly, a stark contrast from the way he had asked you if you were okay.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You have no idea how crazy you’ve driven me since I first fucked this pretty pussy,” Aaron grunted form behind, fingers digging so hard into your hips he was sure there would be an imprint there. “Had to get myself off in my own office, that’s how crazy you had me going.”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Your mouth is wide open, small huffs the only noise you can make while a line of saliva drools from your tongue. It’s only when you feel him wrap your hair in his hand and pull your back flush against his chest that you squeal, the angle pushing his cock further inside you.

“You like that, pretty?” He asks deeply, voice hoarse and gravely as he continues to pound into your pussy, the squelching that comes from beneath scandalous. “Like getting this pussy fucked by me, huh?”

You nod dumbly, too fucked out to properly answer him. A harsh slap against your ass makes you cry out, the sting somewhat snapping you back to reality.

“Answer me,” Aaron commands, tugging at your hair and making your back arch even further against him. “Did I fuck you dumb like last time?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble, legs shaking even in your standing position. “I l-love it, Aaron. Feels so g-good.”

He chuckles against your ear, the way you could barely register his questions only making him quicken his pace, “You gonna come on my cock, sweetheart? Gonna give me one more wrapped around me?”

You nod with as much fervor as possible, “Yes, y-yes, can I, Aaron? Want you to c-cum inside me, please.”

“Yeah? Want me to stuff you full of my cum?” He asks. He doesn’t bother to correct you when you don’t answer, instead snaking his hand to your front and down to your pussy.

The feel of him rubbing circles on your clit is the final push you need before you’re clenching around him, body trembling against him as he continues his assault on your swollen bud.

It doesn’t take long for Aaron to spill his own release inside you, giving you a couple more shallow thrusts as he comes down from his own high.

You whine when you feel him pull out, a string of your mixed releases following suit on the tip of his cock.

“So good, baby,” he praises, wrapping a hand around your neck gently and pressing soothing kisses on your cheek. “Did so good for me.”

You lean your head against his shoulder as he reaches for some tissues to clean you up, “So I guess we’re definitely doing this again?”

Aaron laughs, a pink adorning his cheeks, “Yes. Yes, we are. In fact, I’m telling everyone to work from home tomorrow so I can take you on a proper date. I’m not risking going crazy again.”

You suppress a giggle, “You went crazy? Over my pussy?”

He sighs, “If only you knew.”

Aaron Hotchner: Found Out

Imagine your boyfriend(Aaron Hotchner) realizes you're the unsub:

-Lil warning: includes descriptions of blood/gore, also a little hint of past domestic abuse, PTSD, murder, hint of child abuse/molestation(barely even there)-

My life wasn't always this complicated, I would find my target, learn their schedule, then attack. I didn't kill innocent people, only scumbags like pedophiles, rapists, and abusers who got off easy or didn't get prosecuted at all; I had easy access as I worked as a courtroom reporter.

Sadly, this simple life couldn't last.

———————

Everything changed when I met a certain prosecutor, he had short black hair and a serious expression on his face, one which I immediately found attractive. We were never on the same case, only seeing each other in passing. I only really got to know him when we bumped into each other during a coffee break and finally started talking. He had invited me to go out for lunch later that day, and we scheduled another meeting from there.

We quickly started dating, I supported him and his rampant schedule as mine was equally rampant, and my support never faltered when he took on the daunting task of joining the FBI. I had held off on killing when I started dating Aaron, but I really only managed for a few months.

I was honestly surprised when no connection or larger investigation was ever created, I think I have made it quite obvious that these crimes were done by the same killer. I had actually studied criminology in university, but I had a certain interest in serial killers that dated all the way back to childhood. I loved the idea of having a signature to distinguish yourself by, to have a certain way that you kill.

My preferred way was to poison them, unnecessary violence is something I don't indulge in unless they truly deserve it. Certain crimes such as rape/sodomy, and crimes against children or the elderly usually make me feel the need to be malicious and cruel; I always torture pedophiles though, there is absolutely nothing good or redeeming about them. The way I would kill them is through slow torture, possibly cutting off their fingers or toes, sometimes even removing every single tooth in their mouth before I allow them to die.

After their deaths, I drain their blood, usually into a bucket, then I will take an amount into a cup and move to a wall, usually the one nearest to them. I take down any pictures and move away anything cluttering the space before I start. This part is always my favorite, making beautiful artwork out of their filthy, dirtied blood.

I make my art take up the whole wall, usually drawing a vicious beast, such as a dragon, or possibly a snarling dog, but sometimes I draw beautiful things, such as a landscape or a galloping horse. I try not to draw beautiful things, but I can't stop it when the brush speaks.

This process naturally takes a lot of time. I used to not have to worry, but now I have to make sure I spend enough of my personal time with Aaron that I don't seem distant or suspicious. The last thing I want is for him to think I'm cheating or that I don't love him.

———————

Today... Was an off day. I had spent the last week on surveillance of this man, Kade Wilkins, he was a child predator who was arrested for lewd and lascivious acts with a child under the age of 14. I was in the courtroom during his case and had to hear all the gruesome details, the kid even went up to testify. Sadly, this man somehow landed a phenomenal lawyer who got him off with only having to register as a sex offender and five years community service.

I was immensely enraged, the kid actually walked up to me afterwards and asked what happened because no one else would tell him the truth. I had to explain that the man who had been molesting and abusing him for a year was just set free with practically no punishment.

Kade Wilkins was disgusting, he would walk over to the elementary schools and watch them during recess, then he would just wander around aimlessly, usually near parks before stopping at a liquor store to buy beer and ask if someone would let him borrow a cigarette. Today, I was gonna be that person.

He had walked into the store as per usual, I waited outside, pulling the laced cigarette pack out of my purse as planned, but all he did was walk right past, paying no attention to the expensive cigarettes being held in my hand. I let out an aggravated sigh after he was out of hearing range, I guess I will have to do this the hard way.

I wait until night falls, he already lives in a shady neighborhood, the last thing I want is for one of his neighbors to see my face. I quickly scale the tattered wood fence, landing quietly in the dying grass of his backyard. Walking over to the back door I quickly slide it open, this idiot never locks his doors.

I hear the shower running, meaning he's probably in his room already, so I will just have to wait because I do not want to see this creep in the shower.

Looking around his home I immediately feel filthy, there's trash on the tables from weeks of takeout, and dirty laundry is littered on the floor, empty beer cans scattered on the tattered smelly couch. Dirty dishes are stacked sky high along the sink, and the fridge reeks of old food and cheap alcohol.

I avert my eyes to look at the watch on my left wrist, the time was 1950(7:50pm), Aaron and I had a dinner reservation at 2200(10:00pm), so I will have to sadly make his death quick.

I must've been in my mind longer than I thought, because the next thing I know I feel arms wrapped around my neck, I did not come here looking for a fight so I am unhappily caught off guard. I fight back, stomping my boots on his sock covered toes, throwing my head back into his nose.

Kade backs up, now sporting a nose bleed with a crooked smile. My arms are up defensively, he always made me uneasy, even from afar, but now I felt straight up disgusted and sick. Wanting to end this quickly I snatch my mace from my belt and spray his face excessively.

He lets out shouts of agony, but I quickly silence him with a pistol-whip to the face. He seems knocked out, so I quickly get to work draining his blood. I usually do this by hanging them up by their arms and just cutting off their feet, letting gravity do the rest for me. This isn't exact or professional, but I don't care, I just want enough blood to paint with.

Normally this process can take up to 20 minutes, but I usually just take blood as it drains. I've also found that blood consistency really matters, use thinner blood for an outline, and thicker when you want more distinguishing features, warming the blood will make it a runnier consistency.

With Kade I had him hanging from some hooks on his ceiling (presumably for a bike), I was already wearing protective gear, the last thing I want is to contract some sort of disease from this sicko.

Normally when I cut off their feet they remain unconscious, but today was simply not my day. Not only did he regain consciousness, he also tried to fight back, I really didn't want to endure this so I slid my knife from its sheath and stabbed it through his neck into his oral cavity.

The look in his eyes was fearful and pleading, but that only made me grin knowing that I made this predator feel nothing but fear in his last moments.

When he is finally dead I pull out a small purple stone from my pocket and delicately place it on top of his head. Call me crazy, but Amethyst is a healing stone, and in some weird way I hope it heals his broken mind in whatever afterlife he is in.

I quickly get to work with painting, his old yellow wallpaper isn't ideal, but I make it work. Today felt different, it felt like his blood didn't want to be paint, but ink; used for writing instead of drawing, and I am not one to go against what the brush wants.

I begin writing, in dripping cursive as well as sharp print. Some words were light whilst others were carved, the blood against the wall reminding me of the orange sunsets against the cold, blue ocean.

It was a while before I stepped back to admire my work, and it was only then I realized that the words were things he had said, things people had said when defending him, but the real thing that stood out was directly in the middle of the wall. It was something that the boy had said to me, and just looking at it written in this man's blood gave me a high that I knew should disgust me.

It said "Why is he free?" Nothing else could sum up how I felt during the court's decision, and knowing that I had taken away his freedom for eternity made me smile with glee.

I immediately began cleaning up, finally glancing at the clock to see it was already 2130(9:30pm), which gave me only 30 minutes to get home and get ready before meeting Aaron for dinner. My heart felt like it was throbbing within my chest, I had made up an excuse of working late today even though Aaron only gets a few days off, at some level I am glad I rid the world of the POS known as Kade Wilkins, but on another I am disgusted that I would rather kill this man than spend time with the one who loves me.

I shove away those thoughts, almost leaving before quickly turning around and approaching the wall, I completely forgot to sign it seeing as this wasn't a drawing. Too lazy to get a brush and start painting again with blood I simply pulled a pen from my purse and signed it before turning off the lights and heading back to my car.

———————

I arrive home in 10 minutes, thankfully(or unluckily?) Kade lived only a short drive away from our shared house. I rush in, tossing my purse on the table as I lock the front door, immediately setting off upstairs and stripping myself of my clothes, tossing them into the washer before hopping into the shower, the last thing I need is for Aaron to see blood on my clothes.

As I get dressed I feel arms wrap around my waist softly, I tense up rigidly before smelling Aaron's cologne and feeling at ease again. He had already felt me tense up though, releasing my waist as he walked in front of me.

"What's wrong?" He asks in his calm tone, I can't help but avoid his eyes, still looking away even when he lifts my face up to look at him. He releases a quiet sigh, I finally shift my eyes to him, taking in his fitting black suit and his soft looking hair. I can't help but reach my hand out to run my fingers through it, him closing his eyes and leaning into my touch as he releases my chin.

"Where's Jackie boy gone?" I question, nonchalantly trying to change the topic of conversation, I don't know if he noticed that or not.

"I dropped him off at Jessica's, she said she wouldn't mind watching him for the night." He speaks, his voice deeper than it was a few moments ago, I can't help the smile that crosses my face as he grabs my hand from his hair, placing a gentle kiss upon it as he looks into my eyes.

"We should get going if we want to make our reservation, last time they almost gave our table away." I state a laugh bubbling in my throat as Aaron chuckles, nodding his head at the memory of me quickly running to our table and telling the waiter off for trying to sit another couple there.

We quickly walked out of our house, Aaron opening the door for me before getting in and driving off. The ride there is quiet and comfortable, the hum of music playing throughout the car with our voices occasionally joining the tune. We are a little late when we finally arrive, but to be honest, 10 minutes is early for us when it comes to dinner reservations.

The restaurant is fancier than I remember. I glance down at my plain black dress and feel slightly uncomfortable, Aaron seems to sense this because as soon as we sit down he reaches out and grasps my hand.

"Honey, what is it?"

"I just feel really under-dressed. You fit right in with your handsome self in a suit, but I'm just in a bland black dress." I quickly respond, feeling my cheeks warm up as I realize how I complimented him during my self-deprecating response. His cheeks are now dusted with a faint sheen of pink, and even though he is slightly flustered, I only pay attention to the warm look in his gaze.

"I'll have you know, that 'bland black dress' is possibly my favorite dress, and you look incredibly gorgeous whenever you wear it." His response causes me to be even more flustered, my eyes dropping to the ground at his compliments. He lets out a quiet string of laughs at my flustered state, squeezing my hand in comfort before sliding my menu over to me.

The rest of the night went quite similar, him making me flustered and myself complimenting him unintentionally, the night felt carefree and I found myself paying no mind to how I brutally murdered a pedophile not even 3 hours ago. The only time it even barely crossed my mind was when Aaron asked how my day was, but I quickly made up an excuse that satisfied his curiosity.

When we finally got home it was nearing 2350(11:50pm), I was much too tired to do anything other than change into a loose shirt before getting in bed, Aaron quickly checked the windows and doors of the house before changing and getting in bed as well. We shared a few slow, lingering kisses before snuggling into each other to fall asleep.

———————

When I woke up, Aaron was already trying to slide out of bed without waking me up, but I quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him back under the covers, releasing a groan of disapproval that he was trying to leave.

We lay like that for a few more minutes before he tries to leave again, which results in me hugging his arm and entangling my legs with his to stop his escape.

I hear him huff in amusement at my antics, the next thing I know he's kissing along my neck, something that I definitely do not attempt to deny. Slowly his kisses move to my clavicle, his arms grasping me and turning me onto my back as he hovers over me, his kisses moving back to my neck before meeting my lips. This kiss is gentle, reminding me of all the reasons that I love this man, causing me to smile slightly.

As he pulls away I finally open my eyes, greeting his dark ones with warmth. I must look so sleepy right now because a grin etches upon his face before he kisses me once more. This kiss is more passionate and leaves me in a daze, which he takes advantage of and slides out of bed. I whine slightly as his warmth leaves me, pulling more covers over for me to snuggle into.

"Honey, you know I have work, I'll try and be back at a reasonable hour, and Jessica will be dropping Jack off after school." He speaks softly as he starts buttoning up his shirt. I gaze at him and smile, he always looks so handsome in the crisp morning air with the pale sunrise shining through the window.

"I know Aar, I just miss you." I smile constantly, something he quickly returns before he starts searching for a tie to wear, holding out a purple or a blue one for me to choose from, I obviously choose the purple one. He grins at my cheekiness as I swat the blue one away and hand him the purple one, he says a 'thank you' before giving me a peck and then returning to getting dressed.

I must've dozed off because I felt Aaron kissing my forehead goodbye. I try to open my eyes, but can only manage a mumbled 'goodbye' before falling back into dreamland.

———————

As I get up, I start a cup of coffee up and walk to the washroom, my stomach turns uncomfortably as I realize that my dirty clothes from last night have just been sitting in the washer, not getting washed. I look through them, not seeing anything missing, and immediately turn on the washing machine, letting out a breath as I head back to the kitchen.

I add some half-and-half and some sugar before throwing on some pants and sitting on the porch. Call me country, but I like to sit out on the porch in the morning to drink coffee and read.

I wave and say 'good morning' to neighbors as they head out for work, everyone around the neighborhood is at least my acquaintance.

I head back inside after finishing my coffee, glancing at the clock to see it is 09:00am, I have to be at work at 10:00am. I quickly set about getting dressed, throwing on a dark gray blouse with some black dress pants, lacing up my work shoes and grabbing my purse as I head out the door. Hopping into my old little car I begin the drive to work, turning on the radio and tuning into the 70s station.

———————

Aaron Hotchner's POV:

This morning had been great, y/n was always incredibly cute, but even today she seemed to be surpassing her normal standard. I always try to sneak out of bed because I don't want to annoy her, but I've found that her waking up leads to a very enjoyable morning, and it always makes me feel better about going to work.

Everything was going great until I went into the washroom, y/n already had some clothes but they weren't washed yet, I pulled some out to see what settings I should set the machine to, but my mind quickly went blank when I saw splatters of red on her jeans. Y/n loves to paint, but she has specific clothes to paint in, and she would never wear her favorite pair of jeans.

This paint also looks weird, like really thin, almost like it was watercolor, but it seems to be flaking, and y/n only buys quality paint and absolutely detests watercolor.

All of this is making me feel uncomfortable, in any other circumstance I would immediately think this was blood, but y/n couldn't hurt anyone, she wouldn't even hurt a fly. The thing that finally makes me ask questions is when I notice the strong smell of iron, something that I've smelled many times before when walking into a crime scene.

I feel uncomfortable, grabbing the over-shirt from the clump of clothes, placing it in a Ziploc bag before heading over to work. I don't know why my stomach was in twists, she probably just cut her finger or something.

———————

Arriving at work I quickly stuff the clothing into my bag, the team doesn't even know I have a girlfriend, the last thing I want is for them to think she is a murderer. I rub my temples as I await the elevator's arrival, luckily it is empty, I really don't feel like being profiled right now.

I neutralize my expression when I reach my floor, striding out of the elevator and through the glass doors, barely sparing any glances to my team. I just want to smooth this whole thing out already, I need to get this clothing tested so that I can feel at ease.

I sit at my desk for a few minutes, mulling over files that still need to be finished, but I immediately stand up, making my way out of my office and through the bullpen, JJ walks by and stops me.

"Sir, we have a case."

"Okay, start without me, I'll join you in a few minutes." I don't give her time to respond, I just begin walking away and to the elevator.

———————

I have just dropped off the clothes, making sure they knew this was incredibly under-wraps and not to be spoken of unless it is directly to me. I think they were kind of scared, but that is the least of my worries.

Walking back into the conference room everyone immediately looks to me, JJ pausing as I take my seat, nodding for her to continue. She does, everyone slowly giving her their attention again, I can tell they want an explanation or an excuse, but I really just want to get past this day.

I glanced at the screen, seeing several gruesome murders, most were men, and they all looked like sleazes. JJ finishes up her presentation, and after a quick chat I decide that this case needs our attention.

"Wheels up in 20."

———————

"What do we know about victimology?" I question, the team quickly starts chattering away.

"Every victim seems to be some sort of criminal, most of them are pedophiles, but there are also some rapists as well as abusers." Reid spouts as he leans back in his chair.

"Alright, so we have a mission-oriented killer, someone who is cleaning up the world, and he is organized and in control." Morgan states. I nod, looking down at the files on my device.

"Why do you say he's organized? These scenes look manic to me." JJ questions

"I actually believe the houses already looked like that, these people were low lifes, they were trashy and disorganized, not to mention criminals. I don't think our unsub did any of that to the house. Also, look at each scene, they are all hanging somehow, they have their feet cut off, and each scene has a painting. These crimes look planned, they were carefully organized and each decision was planned out." Prentiss responds, zooming in to show JJ small details that support her, everyone nodding their heads in agreement.

"This killer also seems to want power and control, look at the way these men are restricted and hanging, he even cut off their feet to possibly stop them from running." I voice, shuffling through the images. Everyone continues bouncing ideas and theories off each other.

"What's with the stone on top of their heads?" Prentiss questions, zooming in on each crime scene photo to show a purple rock of some kind placed on their heads. Everyone looks interested, it would seem we all missed that detail.

"That is actually a crystal, commonly known as an amethyst, but is also known as amethystus in Latin writings. It is considered a powerful and protective crystal, in spiritual religions they claim it opens up a person's third eye and is considered a source of power and wisdom. It is said to have healing properties, such as relieving stress, dispelling anger, and dissolving negativity. People claim it activates spiritual awareness, opens intuitions, and heightens psychic abilities." Reid rambles, looking slightly interested, but also slightly confused, squinting his eyes as he mulls over his explanation and tries to connect it to the crimes.

"Why do you think he is putting an amethyst on each of them? It is obviously deliberate. What is he trying to do?" Rossi asks, that question stumped us for a few moments.

"Lots of people believe that pedophiles have broken minds, this is due to the fact that pedophilia isn't something you can cure, many people believe death is the only thing you can do to protect others." Reid responds.

"Are you saying that our unsub is trying to heal them?" Morgan questions. We all glance at each other.

"Possibly, but I'm not completely sure since people think an amethyst crystal can do so many things. This could be a form of remorse or it could be a way of asking forgiveness for themselves since they killed them." Reid responds again, seeming to only be forming more questions with each answer he reaches.

"How long until we arrive?" Prentiss questions after we had settled down.

"Not long for some of us, I'm sending Derek and Rossi to Ohio, it was where the first 4 victims were murdered. You, Reid, JJ and I will be heading to the 6 more recent crime scenes, which are here in Virginia, we only have another 10 minutes, you guys have about an hour." I say, seeing people nod their heads at the plan.

I feel myself beginning to doze off. I didn't get to sleep a lot, having gotten home around 11:30 and having to wake up around 5:00. Usually I try to stay awake, but today has already been so stressful I allow myself the few moments of rest I have before we have to land.

———————

Y/N's POV:

Today in the courtroom I had to endure a murder trial, sometimes I really hate my life.

A man had killed his wife, and was claiming that she abused him, but he has no evidence to support his claims. Apparently his wife was trying to leave him and take their kids, she wanted to live separately whilst they were finalizing their divorce. He stated that she said she was 'never going to let him see his kids again' and that 'her boyfriend will be a better father than he ever was', and all he could remember from there was seeing red.

I hate these days, lots of people claimed crimes of passion, and though it didn't mean no punishment, it was always a lighter sentence. The person always throws in that their spouse was cheating or abusive.

The moment I arrived home I went to work researching the woman and man, Irene and Arnold Daniels. She had social media, which she rarely used. I quickly hacked my way into her account, though she barely posted anything, she seems to have messaged a few people quite a lot. Mainly two friends, Sheryl Walters and Tanner Singer. I start my programs and it begins scanning through all of her messages, immediately showing the results I wanted.

"He keeps hitting me, and threatening to leave with his girlfriend.." That message alone stopped me in my tracks, I should've known Arnold would be the cheating one. I scan through the message, searching for a name when I find one, a 'Rachel Moors'. Irene goes into detail about how Arnold has been dating Rachel on the side for about a year now, and how that was when he started hitting her and yelling at their children.

I stop myself from continuing, I have all the evidence I need now to know that Arnold Daniels murdered his wife, anymore looking and I would feel gross because I'm snooping through a dead woman's private messages. I quickly exit and shut down my computer,feeling relieved that I can do this without worrying about Aaron seeing.

Don't get me wrong, I would die for Aaron, and I love him to death, but having my own space is nice every once and awhile. I gave up a lot when I started dating him. I was planning on killing at least once a week, which I had been achieving, but that had to slow down because I now need to be careful in my own home.

Back in Ohio I had started on accident, the first kill was done impulsively and in a complete rage, I didn't paint with their blood, instead I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and started drawing, it was something I did when I felt nervous or uncomfortable. Next thing I know I'm killing again, but this time I planned it, and experimented with using their blood to draw.

The third murder was when I had really created my style, I would knock them unconscious, hang them up, and then kill them by draining their blood, using it to paint on their walls. The 4th murder was the cleanest, the man, Gray Daws, was a man with multiple petty crimes, but he was currently being tried for the rapes of 3 women. Each woman refused to go into the box, so with little evidence and no one talking, he was released.

I was about to move to Virginia, and I wasn't planning on killing again, but this case just stuck with me. I spent about a week stalking him, he frequented night clubs and bars, and picked up a prostitute at least once every day. I learned his schedule and dressed to his preference, wanting to know how he talked to these girls.

It was a lively night, I think some game was on and a carnival was being held just down the road, the streets full of people. I was leaning over the bar, slowly sipping a cold coke when a drink was placed in front of me, not by a bartender, but by Gray Daws himself. I obviously didn't drink it, it was bubbling with something that reminded me of when my friend placed a capsule of ecstasy into her water. I simply looked at him and smiled.

He was dressed in a suit that screamed expensive, but looking closely I could see it was a knock off meant to fool me. Glancing to his wrist I saw a fake Rolex, I acted impressed though, raking my eyes over his sleazy figure. His hair was black but was graying on the sides, and it looked oily, slicked back with some of it falling to the side. His face was clean but it just looked dirty, the stubble on his jaw repulsing me.

Heslid the glass closer to me, placing his other hand on my lower back. I wanted to smack his hand away and pour the drink down his shirt, but I held back, instead mustering up an attractive smile that seemed to work.

"What are you doing here all alone, doll face?" The nickname alone made me want to growl, but instead I took one of my hands and grabbed the offered drink, swirling it around in the glass.

"I could ask you the same, a handsome man like you surely can't be single." I state, placing my hand on his chest to push him back slightly, both to play hard to get as well as to feel less repulsed. He pays no mind and lowers his hand even further, making me shift in my seat

"How would you like to get to know me in private then, I know a place." He continues, his voice lowering as he pushes into my personal space. He tries to grab my wrist, but I quickly twirl my seat around and glide out of it quickly; I don't really feel like letting a rapist touch me.

That night I left my home at around 2300(11:00) since Daws goes to sleep around 2400(12:00). I snuck into his house and tied him down, pouring the drink he gave me down his throat. He woke up immediately, choking as he swallowed the liquid. He tried to get up, but I could already see the drug working, for him I wanted him to be awake. I went to his kitchen, pulling out a big knife from a drawer before returning back to his room. He tried to resist even pleading for me to stop, but I couldn't and I wouldn't.

———————

Aaron Hotchner's POV:

We arrived at the local PD, Prentiss and Reid quickly heading to the room after greeting Detective Calder. JJ waits with me as I talk with him.

"Detective, what have you and your team come up with so far?" I question as we walk to the setup room.

"So far we see no sexual element at all, he leaves no evidence and each murder seems to be getting more and more organized." He states in frustration, something I can understand, I can't believe they are only just now calling us in.

"I'm going to send a member of my team to look at some of the crime scenes, would you please have an officer escort her." I ask, but it's more of a statement. I need to get to the bottom of this case quickly, an organized killer that just gets more organized is not exactly great. I'm about to send Prentiss when an officer from the other room shouts over to us.

"There's been another murder!" We have to drive practically back to Quantico, but I don't mind, it gives me some time to go over the case; I'm about to turn on some music when my phone rings. I answered calmly.

"Hotchner."

"Yes, sir, this is about the forensics you requested."

"Yes, what is it?"

"Sir, we can confirm these are blood spatters." My heart speeds up in trepidation at all the thoughts crossing my mind.

"Save all information on it and hold it, it might come in handy with this case." I respond, barely letting the person respond before ending the call. I'm frustrated and scared, the fact that my sweet girlfriend might be a murderer makes me grip the steering wheel a bit tighter.

"Hotch, who was that?" Emily questions, looking over at me, though I refuse to look at her, I know she'll see the uncertainty and fear in my eyes.

"It was no one." I respond shortly, my voice quiet.

"You said it might help our case, why won't you tell me what it is?" She asks. Sometimes I hate her for being so nosy, but I know that she should be made aware.

"Prentiss, I have a girlfriend."

"....Okay." She responds, clearly confused.

"This morning... Just before I left, I found some of her clothes from last night, and it looked like they had blood on them. I sent them to the lab and it was confirmed it was blood."

"Hotch, I think you might be jumping to conclusion, there's a lot of reasons there could be blood on her shirt."

"I know I know, I shouldn't be so nervous and suspicious, but I just can't help it."

The rest of the ride is silent until we arrive at the house. It is surrounded by police, neighbors crowding around and having to be held back by the police. Thankfully the news hasn't caught wind of these cases yet, when they did it would only feed the killers need for control, it might make him speed up his schedule.

———————

Entering the house I am greeted with the strong scent of iron, one that sadly reminds me of Y/n's clothes that reeked of the same scent. Looking around I immediately see things that are different about this crime scene. For one, it looks like there was a struggle, and the victim is a lot more beat up than the others.

"Are we sure this is the same killer, this was done sooner than their schedule, and it looks like he actually fought this victim." Prentiss voices, walking around the crime scene before settling near the dead man.

I look around, slightly confused at the change in MO, but I think it is still the same killer, I am only supported when I glance into the other room. It makes me even more confused, I have so many questions forming

"I think it's the same killer."

"Why?" Prentiss questions, walking towards me before poking her head around me to see what I'm looking at. Her jaw drops open, the wall is covered in dried blood, but instead of a drawing we find writing. It covers the whole surface and looks like the ramblings of a mad man, the message in the middle being the most prominent.

"Why is he free?" I read, my voice full of confusion. Prentiss is about to respond when my phone goes off.

"Hotchner."

"Office of Supreme Genius coming at you with some knowledge." Garcia responds, I want to smirk at her playful responses, but this case makes me want to frown.

"What have you found so far?"

"Nothing good, sadly. A lot of these people are obviously sickos, but it seems they are all sickos that get off with little to no punishments. The man you are visiting right now molested and abused a young boy for a year, and he only has to register as a sex offender and do community service.

The others include people such as a Gray Daws, who was accused of raping three women, all of which refused to testify and the case fell through. There are others, but they are all similar in that the person obviously did horrible things, and they either got a light punishment or no punishment at all." Garcia finishes.

"Are there any similarities in where each case was held? Are any names repeated in any of the trials or investigations?" I quickly responded, wanting to know if anyone was present during all of these trials.

"That will take me a couple of minutes sir, I will call you back when I have results." Garcia quickly ends the phone call, and I slide my phone back into my pocket.

"You think we're looking for a guy in criminal justice?" Prentiss asks, and I simply nod before I turn around to face her.

"Look at this crime scene and tell me what you see."

"...I see a serious need for control, it seems like it is a requirement to instill fear in his victims. He never shots his victims even though he obviously carries, preferring to use knives as well as preferring to torture his victims beforehand, but this victim was killed rather suddenly for some reason." She responds slowly and confidently, glancing around the house before focusing on the dead man.

"Good, now tell me what is missing." She takes a moment to think about my question before looking around.

"There is no sexual element, and no humiliation, the victims are left clothed, and the unsub for some reason seems to be exhibiting remorse. He doesn't fit into the standard profile perimeters." I listen closely to what she says, and almost feel a smirk slide upon my face.

"I think I know what we're missing about our unsub." I state, feeling Prentiss stare at me in confusion.

"What about him would explain this." She questions exasperatedly.

"For one, I don't think this is a he."

———————

I get a call from Dave, he explains the first few crime scenes and victims.

The very first was a man named Cain Smith, he was a young man who was a lawyer and known to be incredibly obnoxious, he was also said to be quite misogynistic. It was messy and impulsive, and there was practically no resemblance to our current killer apart from a drawing and signature left on a piece of paper.

The second murder was getting more organized, she was starting to experiment with blood, the third murder had her painting on the walls and hanging the men up, and the last murder was similar, but more vengeful than the others, it actually reminded me a lot about the first murder.

"Dave, I think our unsub is a female."

"Well... that makes more sense, especially when it comes to the lack of sexual gratification."

"Yah, but look at the other clues as well. She uses an amethyst, something many believe to be a healing crystal, most guys don't really buy into that sort of stuff. Also, look at the crimes these people are committing, rape, spousal abuse, molestation, these are all things that women will pay the most attention too, sure, battery and robbery are bad, but these crimes tend to really catch a girls attention."

"I think you might be on to something Aaron-" Dave was cut off as an incoming call interrupted him.

"Hold on, Garcia is joining our call." I state, quickly accepting.

"Hello sirs. So Hotch I did that research you asked and it turns out every case was held in the same place, well, the cases in Ohio were held in the same courthouse, and the cases in Virginia were held in the same courthouse."

"That's great Garcia, did you find any names in common?"I asked, hoping that I wouldn't be arresting my girlfriend anytime soon.

"Only one, the courtroom reporter is the same in each of these cases, her name is Y/n L/n, and she was living in Ohio before going off the grid. There is no paper trail, but we can assume she moved to Virginia since this is where the murders have picked up. I can send her old address over, but it seems like the house was demolished."

"Anything of interest on her?" Dave questions, but I can barely pay attention to the conversation. The only person in common with every murder is my girlfriend, the sweetest and kindest person I know. I trust her with everything, I trust her with Jack, how on earth could she be capable of murdering all these people?

"Sir, SIR!" I quickly snap back to reality.

"Sorry, my phone cut out, what did you say Garcia?" I quickly say, not wanting to be questioned on why I was so quiet.

"Well, sir, she basically has no criminal record at all, she actually won quite a few awards back in her hometown, and you guessed it, they were for art. Her drawings are actually pretty cool, like I would totally buy a book of her art... Sorry I'm getting off topic.

She was academically above average, and had quite the talent with computers. She got a lot of job offers when graduating high school but decided to go to university, which landed her even more job offers. She could've gone pretty much anywhere, but decided on being a courtroom reporter. I called some of her contacts, they say that she stays in contact with them but that they don't know where she is, they also only have good things to say.

Many people all say she is really kind, that she was the one to protect kids from getting bullied, she was the emotional support person for everyone, and she also apparently had a stubborn streak, she got into a few fights during high school, none of which she initiated, but all of which she most definitely finished." Garcia states.

I feel like I've been listening to the exact description of Y/n, and I can't help but want to run to her and cry over what is going on. I suck it up, I can't say anything, we're not even sure she is the murderer.

"That's great, thank you Garcia." She immediately ends her call and that leaves just me and Dave.

"Dave, I want you to go around to the courthouse she worked at, meet and talk to everyone who knew her, friends, family, colleagues, I don't care, I want to know everyone she has contacted and exactly what she's said." I state, I need to keep them busy, at least until I can talk to Y/n.

"Alright." I hung up the call and looked at Emily. I don't know how I can lie to her, she was here and probably saw my response to hearing my girlfriend being labeled as the suspect.

"Emily I--"

"No, go. I don't know what is going on, and I don't want to know what is going on. I'll come up with an excuse, you clearly have some things you need to sort out." She states, not allowing me the chance to respond before she leaves the house.

I need to get home, Y/n needs to explain exactly what the hell is going on.

Luckily Prentiss left with an officer back to the department, I quickly jumped in the car and drove to our home. Jack shouldn't be home for another hour, I think I'll just call Jessica again, hopefully she won't mind.

"Hey Jess."

"Hey Aaron, what do you need?" I release a sigh at her response, she doesn't sound annoyed, just like she expected this call.

"I'm really sorry, but Y/n and I really need to have a serious talk and I don't want Jack to be home when it happens."

"Alright, but I thought you were working a case?" Jess replies in a confused voice.

"This has to do with the case." I can practically sense her clenching the phone tighter in confusion and worry.

"Aaron, what's going on, is Y/n in danger?"

"I--I can't tell you, I'm sorry Jess." I can't tell Jess, I can't tell her that Y/n may be the unsub and that I am contemplating letting her escape.

"...Okay, just call me when I should drop Jack off at home. Y/n better be fine after all this, she's become like a sister to me and a mother to Jack, and it seems she has become everything to you." I feel my eyes water knowing that as soon as I get home I need to make a decision.

"Thank you Jess, I'll call you when you should drop off Jack." I hang up the phone, I'm in my neighborhood now, and I can see our house quickly approaching. Her little Lotus Sprint parked in the driveway, the lights in the house on. I swallow harshly as I park in our driveway, I've made my decision.

———————

Y/n's POV:

I'm getting things out of the cabinet to make for dinner. Jess should be dropping Jack off in about an hour, so that should give me enough time, I'll have to wait a little while until I can go after my latest target. My thoughts get cut off as I hear the front door being unlocked and pushed open, I grab a knife from the drawer before glancing around the kitchen corner and into the hallway.

I am pleasantly surprised to see Aaron home early, tossing the knife onto the counter as I walk up and hug him.

"You didn't tell me you were coming home early, I would've made dinner sooner." I say happily as I look up at him, but my smile quickly falters when I see the expression on his face. Mine turns into worry as I see the faintest sign of tears in his eyes. Not sure what caused this, I immediately think he had a really tough case.

"What is it Aar, was it a tough case?" I ask, holding both of his arms, but he backs up away from my embrace. I'm really confused now, I don't know what to do, he's never been like this, even after some really tough cases.

"Why did you do it?" He finally asks, his voice gruff with emotion

"..." I don't know how to respond, I don't even know what he's asking.

"WHY DID YOU DO IT!" He shouts, I feel myself jump in surprise and fear, I hate being yelled at, especially after my first relationship.

"What are you talking about?" My voice is quiet, I'm scared, but I try not to be, Aaron would never hurt me. I back up subconsciously, but he reaches out and grabs my wrists tightly, yanking me forward. I stumble and nearly fall, but he drags me up and back onto my feet.

Tears are clouding my vision, does he think I cheated on him, did I do something wrong? I'm so confused, and the way he's treating me is giving me some serious flashbacks.

"Why did you kill all those people?" His tone is calm, almost deceivingly calm, I keep my head turned away and my eyes to the ground, my stomach drops as I hear those words. My body is now cowering away, the only way I know to respond is to shy away and that is kind of hard to do right now.

My hands are shaking, and my breathing is becoming excessively shallow. I feel like I'm gasping for air, but I can never get enough.

———————

Aaron Hotchner's POV:

She looked like she was trying to lower her body to the ground, like her body was trying to shrink into the background. I remember when I came into our house I was only sad and confused, but it suddenly turned into anger, rage at what she had done and how she could throw away the life she had with me.

I wasn't able to control it all, I had never hurt her before, and seeing her cowering form being held up only by my tight grip on her wrists snapped me out of my angry haze.

I almost let go of her, but she would've fallen straight to the ground, instead I loosen my hold on her wrists, and gently lower us both to the ground, from the looks of it she's hyperventilating. I gently let go of her wrists, which she quickly pulls into her, like she is trying to disappear, she lowers her torso over her bent legs, trying to back away from me.

"Y/n, I-I'm sorry." I was already broken over what she had done, the last thing I wanted to do was make her scared that I would hurt her. I try to reach out to her, but she just tries to back up even more. I don't know what else to do, I can't leave her here alone, but I don't know how to comfort her, hesitantly I slide my hand gently over the floor.

She lifts her face up to look at my hand, I catch a glimpse of her tear stained cheeks, her eyes are flooded with tears, and they hold a glint of fear when she looks at my hand.

———————

Y/n's POV:

I never expected to feel betrayed by Aaron, but then again, I guess I am the one who betrayed him. His hand looks so annoyingly welcoming, but I don't know anymore, my wrists still sting from where he grabbed them.

I slowly look up from his hand to meet his eyes, they hold regret and fear, they still maintain a warmth that never fails to make me feel loved.

Hesitantly, I place my shaking hand into his, feeling a sudden burst of fear that he'll hurt me again, but that thought is quickly forgotten when he gently squeezes my hand to comfort me. My breathing is still uneven, but this gesture is really helping calm me down.

I simply stare at our hands, this is probably the last semblance of normalcy I'll ever have, Aaron will have to turn me in, it's his job, and I would never ask him to let me escape, that could ruin his career. Thinking about the life I have here, more tears resurface, I try to hold in my cries, but the thought of leaving Aaron and Jack alone is physically and mentally tearing me apart.

"I-I'm sorry." Is all I can manage to say through my tears, I look away, feeling disgusted with myself. I try to pull away, but instead feel myself being pulled toward him; I don't struggle, I fully expect him to cuff me while he has the chance, but I am pleasantly met with a warm embrace, one that speaks a million words.

I am forgiven.

Aaron Hotchner: First and Last Phone Call

Imagine being followed, so you call your brother (Aaron Hotchner), hoping he might save you:

Y/N's POV:

The walk to my dorm was taking me longer than usual, the recent injury to my leg was definitely not helping me.

The sun had long since set, and the darkness of the night had fully set in, my only light sources being the sparse lamp posts dotting along the sidewalk. The dark has always been a fear of mine, but my fear is reaching a whole new level right now. I'm injured, alone, and in a new environment; anything could happen to me. I keep my head up and on a swivel, turning at anything and everything.

I eventually calm down after a few minutes of excessive paranoia, instead finding comfort in the soft breeze, the leaves russling under the trees, and gazing at the orange glow of the lamps against the dark blue sky, it's actually quite calming.

Rain lightly begins to sprinkle from above, something that I embrace as I love rainy weather. Of course my clothes and bag are getting wet, but I don't care.

I almost miss the quiet scuffle behind me, the sound of light footsteps against the wet sidewalk. I turn around quickly, but I see nothing. Turning back around, I shake my head, thinking I'm being paranoid again. I continue my slow walk, my dorm is still several minutes away.

After another few moments of walking, the light scuffle is heard again, this time I immediately turn around, once again seeing nothing behind me. I glare at my surroundings harshly, I'm about to continue my trek when something catches my attention.

Along the sidewalk is a dirt area with bushes and trees, large oaks that are spread every 7 feet along the sidewalk. Nothing about that is odd, but carefully surveying the tree, I noticed the rubber toe of a shoe, it reminds me of the thick rubber sole of Vans.

My breathing feels harder, an eerie sense of understanding floods through my body. I don't have my pepper spray or any of my knives on me, I made the stupid decision that a philosophy textbooks was more important. I'm wearing my Ariat leather books, good for walking and work, but not so amazing when it comes to having to outrun somebody.

My brain is turning with thoughts of what to do, but the first thing I know I must do is turn back around and start walking as if nothing is wrong; this may seem stupid, but I can't let this person know that I've spotted them. I force my breaths to be even, and I grasp my bag loosely to my side.

Continuing to walk was very hard, especially when you know somebody is following you, and you have no idea what their intentions are.

Grasping my bag, I swiftly undo its buckles, taking care not to look like I'm rushing. Rain drips down my skin as I pull my phone out of my bag, looking closely, I notice the slight tremble in my hands and the burning of my eyes. Clicking on the only contact I can think of, I hold the phone tightly to my ear.

———————

Aaron Hotchner's POV:

I hear my phone ringing, it causes the conference room to fall silent, all eyes going to me. Sheepishly reaching into my coat pocket, I glance at the name and know it must be important.

"What is it Aaron?" Rossi questions, clearly seeing the confusion in my eyes.

"It's my sister?" My voice is deep and raspy, I haven't spoken to her since I left home, and she has never reached out to me. I don't know why she's calling, but I know I need to answer it.

"Continue without me, give me the summary on the jet." Is all I say before pushing out of my chair and exiting the room, leaving it full of confused and concerned profilers.

———

"....Y/N?" I listen closely, hearing the slight pattering of rain through the line.

"...Hey Aaron." Her voice is tight, it only increases my concern.

"Why are you calling?" My question can't help but be asked, my personality doesn't allow for the polite bullshitting, instead wanting to get straight to the point.

"I'm doing great, heading to my dorm right now actually, I know you're waiting for me." Her response is confusing, we haven't kept in contact at all, and I didn't even know she was in university. Something starts to scratch in the back of my mind, this conversation feels off.

"What are you talking about? Why did you call me?" My question is overflowing with the need for an answer, my voice lowering so that prying ears can't hear.

"Yah, I did go down to California for spring break. The horse races were crazy!" With this sentence my thoughts still. When Y/N was just a little girl, I taught her certain phrases to say when something is happening to her; and this was one of the scariest scenarios:

She was being actively followed.

My breathing gets heavier, and my heart feels like it's ramming against my rib cage. I grip my phone so tight it feels like I might crush it. Thinking quickly, I stride out of my office and back into the conference room, JJ falls silent as they all look at me.

Motioning for everyone to stay quiet, I pull the phone away from my ear and put it on silent.

"I'm with my team Y/N, tell me where you are."

"...I'm walking to (university name), I was just in town, but I'm currently passing some gas station. I should only be about 10 minutes away, so I'll meet you there." I can hear her straining to keep a normal pitch and her breaths becoming faster, alerting me that she is worried. I point at Garcia, her eyes lighting up with understanding as she begins typing away on her computer.

By now, everyone looks confused and worried, but all are in work mode.

"Y/N, you need to get into a building, I don't care which one, you just need to find other people. NOW." My voice is harsh, and I know it's not helping the situation, but I need her to be safe.

———————

Y/N's POV:

He's almost shouting at me, but I know he's just worried, I can hear the almost inaudible waver in his voice. The tears are freely falling now, I've already passed the last building between town and my university.

The footsteps behind me speed up, it seems they noticed my predicament as well, they are going to do something to me, and there is nothing I can do. I speed up as well, wanting to be able to explain everything to Aaron.

"Aar.. A-Aaron...I-I'm sorry." I can't stop my voice from stuttering, sobs now mixing with my talking.

"I'm sorry I said I hated you. I was angry at myself, not you" My words drip with emotion, the guilt that flows through me is almost as painful as knowing I'm about to die.

"Y/N-" He tries to speak, but I interrupt him as I know I have little time.

"I'm sorry that your last memory of me will be over the phone, please forgive m-" My apologies are cut short, my phone being smacked to the ground. I try to face my attacker, but a punch to the face causes me to take a detour to the floor.

The rough asphalt rips into the flesh of my hands, it burns, but not as much as the kick I receive to the gut. I scream in pain, hoping someone will hear, but knowing deep down that no one will.

The person jumps on top of me, their weight forcing my already empty lungs to collapse even further, I feel like I'm gasping, but no air enters. Everything is blurry, and wet, it's all so disorienting.

Two large hands wrap around my throat, the pressure quickly increasing; I try to fight, feebly punching him with my weakening limbs.

I feel heavy, my head foggy, I kind of just want to close my eyes and sleep. As my eyelids droop closed, the last memory I have is of a blurry warm light from a lamp post a little ways away.

———————

Aaron Hotchner's POV:

After the screams and scuffle end, all we hear through the phone is silence, someone(I assume the attacker) picks up the phone, and ends the call after another few seconds. Sadness is surging through my body, I already know tears are dripping down my cheeks, but even through all my sorrow, I remain silent.

Everyone looks uncomfortable, looks of fear, anger, shock, and concern mingling in all of their expressions. JJ is about to say something when Garcia comes bustling through the door, she looks just as depressed as I feel.

"Sir, I know where she is."

please love me, like the wave does the shore

aaron hotchner x female!reader

wc: 7.9k

warnings: fake!dating, SO much pining, mentions of murder, only one bed, Hotch is very whipped lol, this is so cliché it should be a crime

an: the moment y’all have been waiting for! i hope you kids enjoy! this will probably become a lil series so stay tuned for part 2 :)

summary: murders along the glistening white coast of Cape Cod was not a good look for anybody. especially not the BAU. the case needs a turn around, a big break, but most importantly: a Mr and Mrs.

Keep reading

[ 8:56 am ] — AARON HOTCHNER

there's a lot of words that can describe aaron hotchner. he's intimidating, scary, strong minded, stern. but most importantly, aaron hotchner is very very pretty.

with his floppy brown bedhair on top of his head, to the way his chest raise and fall with each breath he took. with his lips parted, and his nose, so perfectly sculpted on his face.

you concluded that yes, he is indeed very pretty.

you can't help yourself as your hand softly gravitate to his face. his stubble is growing out and it feels nice on your skin. his cheeks are soft, and his lips were chapped when it meets the tips of your fingers.

you softly land a chaste kiss on his forehead, and then his cheeks, his nose and lastly his lips.

“it’s rude to stare, honey.”

his deep voice brought you out of your daze as a small smile formed on his face. Giving your waist a teasing squeeze as he caught you red handed.

“was just admiring.” you shrugged, finger still softly tracing the details of his face. “not my fault your so pretty.”

aaron’s whole body went stiff as his eyes opened in shock, sitting his body up a little to look at you. did he heard that right? did you just- did you just called him pretty? a pink blush across his cheeks. he’s sure his brain shut down.

you looked at his reaction, his brown eyes blinking slowly, “what?” you chuckled, “you’ve never been called pretty before?”

he dumbly shook his head and it was your turn to tease. “well, good cause you’re my pretty boy.”

aaron groaned in frustration, feeling his whole body go warm. he rolled over to hover on top of you, hiding his flushed cheeks in the crook of your neck. “you can’t just say things like that.”

you giggled and tangled your fingers in his hair making the tall man nuzzle into your embrace. at the sound of your laughter, a lovesick grin appear on his face as he turned to stare at you.

“you are also very pretty.” he absentmindedly mumbled and you felt your stomach doing flips.

you pecked his lips once, and then twice, and then a third time, and then peppering his whole face with small kisses and aaron felt like for every kiss a part of him healed. aaron knows he never would give his heart to anyone, but when he met you, he landed you his whole heart without hesitation and you have been holding it like it was a piece of priceless art. he thinks giving you his heart is one of the best things he has ever done.

as the alarm rings 9am it is safe to say that aaron hotchner will finally ask you the question so that he could wake up next to you forever.

reblog for a kiss <3 || check out my masterlist!

Hey! I’d love a one-shot where Hotch is really protective over the reader, who’s been getting some unwanted attention from someone at work. Maybe she’s a bit younger and new to the team, and she’s always been close with Hotch, but lately, he’s noticed that someone’s been making her uncomfortable. I’d love to see how Hotch handles it, especially since he’s been realizing he has feelings for her. Lots of protective Hotch vibes, maybe a little angst, but definitely some fluff and maybe a confession at the end. Thanks so much!

Of course lovely!!

Title: “Shield of Silence”

Pt2

You weren’t sure when it started, but the pit in your stomach had been growing for weeks now. At first, it had just been lingering looks—nothing overtly inappropriate but just enough to make your skin crawl. You’d brush it off, thinking you were imagining things, but the feeling only intensified as time passed. It was like being watched constantly, a gaze that clung to you when you least expected it.

It was your third month with the BAU, and although you were still adjusting, you felt like you’d finally found your place among the team. Spencer had been a wealth of knowledge, always eager to share some obscure fact or statistics. JJ had quickly become like an older sister, guiding you through the maze of FBI procedures and office politics. And then there was Aaron Hotchner—your unit chief, your mentor, and more recently, the person you found yourself gravitating towards the most.

Hotch had been nothing but professional with you, but there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you. You admired his leadership, the way he commanded respect without demanding it, and his quiet but unwavering sense of justice. More than once, you’d caught yourself staring at him, wondering what it would be like to cross that line between professional and personal. But you always pushed those thoughts aside—he was your boss, after all.

Lately, however, you found yourself needing his presence more than usual. There was someone on the team who was making you uncomfortable, someone who lingered a little too close, who spoke a little too softly when he was near you. It was subtle—nothing you could report without feeling like you were making a mountain out of a molehill. But you knew it wasn’t just in your head.

The elevator ride that morning had been the final straw. You were alone, checking your phone, when you felt the presence beside you. Your stomach twisted as he moved closer, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath on your neck. You stepped away, mumbling an excuse about needing to review a case file, and practically fled to your desk.

It wasn’t until you were safely seated that you noticed Hotch watching you, his brows furrowed with concern. He’d always been perceptive, but this time, his gaze felt like it was peeling back the layers you’d tried so hard to keep hidden.

“Y/N,” his voice was low as he approached you, leaning on the edge of your desk. “Is everything alright?”

You forced a smile, trying to mask the anxiety churning in your gut. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

Hotch didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he nodded, his expression thoughtful. “If anything’s bothering you, you can always come to me. You know that, right?”

You nodded, grateful for his concern but unwilling to drag him into something that might just be a product of your overactive imagination. “I know, Hotch. Thank you.”

But Hotch wasn’t the kind of man to let things go easily, especially when it came to his team. Later that day, as the team gathered in the conference room for a briefing, you noticed that Hotch had positioned himself closer to you than usual. It was subtle—just a shift in his usual place—but it felt like a protective barrier, a silent assurance that he was there if you needed him.

The meeting went smoothly, but as it wrapped up, the same coworker who’d been making you uncomfortable sidled up beside you, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that made your skin crawl. Before you could step away, Hotch was there, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

“Y/N, I need you to stay back for a moment. We need to go over the details of the Montgomery case.”

The man beside you stiffened, his eyes flickering between you and Hotch, but he said nothing as he backed away. You watched him leave, your heart pounding in your chest.

When the room was finally empty, Hotch turned to you, his dark eyes filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “This has been going on for a while, hasn’t it?”

You swallowed, nodding reluctantly. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I thought maybe I was overreacting.”

Hotch shook his head, his jaw clenched. “You’re not overreacting. If someone’s making you uncomfortable, it’s my job to protect you. I don’t take that lightly.”

There was something in his tone that made your heart ache, a protective edge that spoke of more than just professional duty. “Hotch, I—”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush your arm where the other man had touched you. The gesture was tender, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I can’t stand the thought of someone hurting you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not when I care about you as much as I do.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your mind racing to process what he’d just said. “You… care about me?”

Hotch’s eyes softened, the usual hardness melting away to reveal something far more vulnerable. “I care about you more than I should, given our positions. But I can’t help it. I need you to be safe, Y/N.”

The confession hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of unspoken feelings. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to a truth you hadn’t been ready to face. But as you looked into Hotch’s eyes, saw the sincerity there, you felt the walls you’d built around yourself begin to crumble.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your hand resting on his chest. “I feel the same way,” you admitted softly. “I’ve tried to ignore it, but… I can’t anymore.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with the tension of words left unsaid. But then, Hotch’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

“Let me take care of this,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “Thank you, Hotch.”

He smiled—a rare, genuine smile that lit up his usually stoic features. “You can call me Aaron, you know.”

Your own smile mirrored his as you felt a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the lingering tension. “Okay… Aaron.”

The moment was perfect, the beginning of something new and fragile, but full of promise. As he pulled you into a comforting embrace, you knew that whatever happened next, you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

And for the first time in weeks, you felt safe.

Love “Shield of Silence” ❤️❤️ What about this time around Hotch need the rescue and they're in a relationship? Add anything you want. Tag me later. Thanks!! :)))

Title: "Tables Turned"

Part two for "shield of Silence"

(Aaron hotchnerr x fem!reader)

It had been a long case, the kind that seemed to stretch on forever with no clear answers. You and the team had been in Denver for almost a week now, chasing leads that seemed to go nowhere. Exhaustion clung to every agent like a second skin, and tempers were fraying at the edges. Still, you had a job to do, and as always, Aaron Hotchner was at the helm, holding everything together with his calm authority.

The only problem? Chief Jenny Montgomery.

From the moment you and Hotch had arrived at the local precinct, you could feel the Chief’s eyes lingering on him. At first, it was subtle—a little too much eye contact, a smile that lasted just a fraction longer than necessary. You didn’t think much of it, chalking it up to her trying to be friendly. But as the days wore on, her attention became impossible to ignore. She was practically hovering over Hotch at every opportunity, leaning in too close, her hand grazing his arm under the guise of handing him files. It was infuriating.

What made it worse was that Hotch, ever the professional, remained oblivious—or at least, he pretended to be. It was one of the things you loved most about him: his ability to keep his cool under pressure, always staying focused on the case. But this? This was testing your limits.

You’d been dating Aaron for nearly six months now. It had started slow, after that moment in the conference room when he confessed his feelings for you. But what you had was real, and it was strong. You’d been through a lot together, and the rest of the team knew about the relationship. They’d accepted it, even supported it—after all, they knew better than anyone how much Aaron needed someone to lean on after everything he’d been through.

But Jenny Montgomery didn’t seem to care. And you were not in the mood to play nice.

It was the third time that day that she’d sidled up to Hotch during a meeting, her body language screaming interest. You were across the room with Spencer and Rossi, trying to keep your attention on the case file in front of you, but your eyes kept drifting back to the two of them. Every time she laughed—loudly, unnecessarily—you felt your grip on your pen tighten.

Spencer glanced up at you, clearly noticing your growing tension. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you muttered through gritted teeth, not taking your eyes off the pair. Hotch was standing there, arms crossed, looking as stoic as ever while Chief Montgomery laughed at something he’d said. But you knew him too well. You saw the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes flickered with discomfort. He wasn’t enjoying this any more than you were.

You stood abruptly, unable to take it any longer. “Excuse me.”

You didn’t storm over—that wasn’t your style. But your footsteps were firm, your body language making it clear that you were not to be trifled with.

“—and I was just telling Agent Hotchner that we have this great little spot in town if he wanted to join me for—”

“That won’t be necessary,” you interrupted, your voice calm but laced with a steel edge. “Agent Hotchner already has plans.”

Montgomery’s eyes flickered with surprise, but she quickly recovered, giving you a tight smile. “Oh? I wasn’t aware.”

You smiled back, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “You are now.”

The tension in the room thickened, but you didn’t care. You weren’t going to stand by and let this woman flirt with your boyfriend right in front of you. Hotch shifted beside you, his lips twitching as if he was trying to suppress a smile. He hadn’t said a word, but you could tell he was enjoying this—probably far more than he should.

Montgomery’s smile faltered. “Well, I didn’t mean to intrude. I just thought—”

“You’ve been ‘just thinking’ all week,” you said, your voice still deceptively calm. “But let me make something clear: Aaron is taken. He’s with me. So, whatever little lunch date you had planned? Cancel it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel eyes on you—from your team, from the officers nearby. You didn’t care. Chief Montgomery stood frozen for a moment, clearly not used to being spoken to like that. She stammered something under her breath and walked away, her face flushed with embarrassment.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you let out a long breath, the adrenaline coursing through you. You half expected Hotch to give you a stern look, to remind you about professionalism and keeping your cool.

But instead, he laughed.

It started as a small chuckle, then grew into full-blown laughter—the kind that had him clutching his stomach, gasping for air as he tried and failed to compose himself. His face turned red, and the sound echoed through the precinct, drawing even more eyes in your direction.

You stared at him in disbelief. “Aaron, are you—”

He shook his head, still laughing too hard to speak. His laughter was so out of character that the entire team was gaping at him like he’d lost his mind. Even Spencer looked confused, his brows furrowed as if he were trying to solve a puzzle.

“Hotch?” Morgan ventured, his voice laced with amusement. “You good, man?”

Hotch wiped tears from his eyes, finally managing to catch his breath. “I’m fine,” he gasped, his voice still thick with laughter. “I just—oh, God—I’ve never seen you like that, Y/N. You—” He dissolved into laughter again, leaning against the nearest desk for support.

You couldn’t help but smile, even as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” Hotch looked at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Y/N, that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen anyone shut someone down like that.”

“I wasn’t going to stand there and let her flirt with you.”

“Clearly,” he said, still grinning. “And for the record, I would’ve turned her down myself if you hadn’t beaten me to it.”

You folded your arms, trying to hide your own amusement. “You didn’t exactly seem in a hurry to stop her.”

Hotch stepped closer, his smile softening as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I didn’t need to. I knew you’d handle it.”

His touch sent a wave of warmth through you, and suddenly, the tension you’d been carrying all week melted away. “Next time, maybe I’ll let you handle it.”

He chuckled, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Deal.”

As he leaned in to kiss you, you heard Morgan’s voice in the background. “Okay, seriously, Hotch, what the hell just happened?”

You pulled back from the kiss, glancing over at the team. They were all staring, clearly still in shock at what had just transpired. Rossi had an amused smile on his face, and even JJ was shaking her head in disbelief.

“Long story,” you said with a grin. “But trust me, it was worth it.”

As you turned back to Hotch, you saw the love in his eyes—so much deeper than words could ever express. And you knew, without a doubt, that whatever challenges came your way, you and Aaron would face them together.

And if anyone ever crossed the line again, well… they’d better be ready for round two.

@pear-1206

my exact reaction to this fic

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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THIS WAS AMAZING! MY FRIEND IS SO TALENTED! my heart was broken and then put back together so quickly poor little jack I wanted to scoop him up and hug him and never let go :(

Safety Net.

Content warnings: Angst. Hurt/comfort. Majorly cliche. Not Proofread (I lack the attention span). 

A/N: This is my first ever ever fic so please let me know your thougths! :D Also I feel like I maybe rushed the real meaty dialogue of this, so please don’t hold back if you think I could take a better stab at rewriting it! <3

Summary: You spend the night reflecting on a beautiful love you shared with Aaron Hotchner, more accurately, you spend the night reflecting on the last two months of heartache without him. It will take one unexpected visitor to bring the two of you to face the reality you’ve found yourselves in.

Word Count: 3.1k.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You always hated driving, especially short distances that could easily be traversed on your own two legs. Or, you used to. You used to love all the sensations of walking home from work, especially on a nice spring night like this. When you could see fireflies making their way out of the trees, and feel the gentle breeze almost swaddling you on your way home. 

But that was a long time ago, the last time you really enjoyed this time of your day which you now wish would just be over already. The last time you cherished your walks home, there was a much smaller hand nestled in your own. But even once you make it home, it doesn’t feel deserving of that title anymore. There are no toys scattered across your living room floor. No Captain America or Batman figurines lodged in the soil of your beloved pot plants. There are no big strong arms snaking around your waist, enveloping you in warmth as you put all the love you can into a beautiful home-cooked dinner for three. This is just your apartment now, a place to put your things and to rest your weary bones. 

You hardly realise time has passed as you reminisce on the times you so dearly miss. You zone back into your tandoori chicken frozen dinner sadly oscillating itself in the microwave. You haven’t been able to bring yourself to really cook for one in a while. The insurmountable pile of leftovers that remain spend too much time attempting to haunt you from the cold confines of the fridge. The pictures hung on the exterior looking back at you, smiles plastered on three adoring faces. It’s torture. You opt to beeline to the freezer each time instead. 

Keep reading

ALEXA PLAY FIREWORK BY KATY PERRY

this was amazing? you are amazing? I literally felt like I was reading a novel during the first half it was so good. the second half was so fucking hot and the way they kept harassing the poor old man would definitely be me

everyone needs to read this so they know how talented you are👏

Fireworks

MINORS DNI

AO3

Pairing: DBF!Hotch x You (fem!reader)

Summary: It's just some Fourth of July fluff/smut. Happy Fourth, my dear American friends.

Tags: Soft Dom Aaron Hotchner x Light Dom/sub x Dom/sub Undertones x Sweet Degradation x Brat Taming x Praise Kink x Reader Is Kind Of A Brat But I find her absolutely hilarious x Banter x Attempt at Humor x Age Difference x Forbidden Love x Smut, you know me x Sweet x Protected Sex x Impact Play x Spanking, the nice kind x apparently this is better than patriotism x I'm Canadian what do I know x Fireworks x Dom Aaron Hotchner x dbf!hotch x Adult Content

Word count: 5.3k

A/N: Honestly, I wasn't sure whether I'd get to publishing it. But I hope this hits the sweet spot for you.

In the midst of the vibrant bursts of color that decorated the sky and the crackling sounds filling the air around you, you wondered how you got so lucky. 

You wondered how you got to sit on the stairs of the Lincoln Memorial, watching the Washington Monument in the distance as it bathed in the soft glow of lights, exuding a sense of reverence and history which seemed particularly fitting today of all days.

The mesmerizing display of lights painting the sky in short succession was nothing compared to the vivid streaks of red, white, and blue dancing across his face and flickering in his dark eyes with patriotic hues. 

You could have sworn his eyes did more than mirror the sparkle of the fireworks above, they drowned them out with the lust and possibility glowing in his irises.

You let your eyes wander and trace the contours of his face, wanting nothing more than to taste his strong jawline with delicate lips, to feel the hint of his stubble prick the corners of your mouth. 

You wanted to read what was happening behind his piercing eyes as he stared at you. They were filled with his usual intense focus, but now they held a depth that hinted at the multitude of emotions he carried within but barely let out. 

You weren’t supposed to be here. There was, after all, a party in full effect at your house. And you weren’t supposed to be here together. You weren’t sure how exactly your father would react to finding his daughter sitting beside his friend, but it didn't take a profiler to guess that it would not be a happy conversation. 

Yet here you were. Sitting on the sun-warmed steps with the other spectators watching the explosions in the sky and positive that you were about to make the best decision of your life as a small smile curled his lips into a breathtaking grin that blinded you with hope. 

You were walking a fine line. A line you had been tethering on the edge of for months.

In the past year of your acquaintance, you often thought that there was a certain grace in the way he moved—his controlled, deliberate gestures, and the way he carried himself with confidence and poise. Every action seemed purposeful, reflecting the meticulous nature with which he clearly approached life. 

So when his pinky grazed the side of your hand before he swallowed his pride and took your hand in his, you smiled through your sigh of relief.  His mind had waved the white flag long enough for him to be vulnerable, long enough for him to silently tell you that you weren’t a rash decision, but a carefully considered one. 

You knew he wouldn’t come out and say it in so many words. He was not that kind of man. But the gesture itself carried a profound weight– a silent confession of his desire to be closer to you regardless of the consequences.

You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed yours right back. 

Whatever happened, you’d face it together. 

You were breathless as his eyes glittered with the hope that was reflected in yours. Everyone around you was focused on the spectacle above but he was the only thing you wanted to admire, the only fascinating light in the darkness of the night you needed to see. 

Sure, the fireworks were nice enough. But people who loved the scintillating aspect of fireworks had just never gotten a glimpse of a happy Aaron. 

You loved how the lights above adorned his face as he cautiously scooted closer. 

For a man who could reduce monsters to whimpering messes, as your dad often put it, he was strangely timid when it was just you two.

Although under normal circumstances you could read his nervousness when he tapped his thumb and index together, a coping mechanism to self-soothe he had probably acquired young, you could not read his expression right now. 

His jaw was clenching and unclenching, the muscles and veins in his neck protruded as he gritted his teeth. He wasn’t angry, the smile that tugged at his lips and the absence of his signature frown indicated that much. But he was not carefree either. 

Lust and apprehension, desire and fear, affection and worry, or confidence and restlessness… They were all plausible and contradictory possibilities.   

Aaron Hotchner was a paradox. It was one of the first things you had realized about him, and it was what always made you come back to him for more, despite everything that told you not to. His outer and inner beauty had left you smitten, completely head over heels for a man who had never even kissed you. 

You still fondly remembered when he had called you a troublemaker only hours after meeting you.

You had yet to shed that title after all these months. He had cursed and called you a brat earlier tonight before he suggested coming here to watch the fireworks with you. 

He had scoffed when you had mentioned it felt like date material, then called you incorrigible. 

Another justified adjective. 

You two couldn’t happen. You had been telling yourself that for over a year. 

But here you were, wondering how you got so lucky to get to witness the way his features softened with each explosion, how his smile illuminated his face with a radiance that rivaled the pleasantly bright sky. 

You finally looked down, witnessing how perfectly your fingers fit together. His hand was much bigger than yours. It felt like the spaces between his fingers had been made just for you. 

You risked a glance at him, finding his face covered in childlike wonder and joy. When he suggested fireworks, you wondered what it was about them that made him want to see them, but it was clear this brought him back to a time when life hadn’t gotten to him yet. 

He had a pure and good heart, and as bruised as it had been before, he was finally telling you he was ready to risk it and give it to you with a look that left nothing to doubt. 

No one had ever looked at you like this, so freely projecting their affection for you in their glistening eyes. 

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke, your breath mingling with his in the night air. “It was about time you made a move,” you teased.

He shrugged, looking back up at the sky. “I’m just holding your hand. It looked lonely sitting there.”

You chuckled, hiding your face in his chest, smelling his expensive cologne all over his shirt. Within weeks of meeting him, you had started to associate his scent with safety and comfort, and today was no exception.

His breath hitched as your laugh was muffled by his chest, as you hooked your arm around his waist. 

You loved laughing at his bad jokes, you had since the very beginning because something incredible happened each time you laughed for him. 

His eyes shone with pride, elation both elegant and irresistible taking over his features. 

“I thought you had finally fallen victim to my charms,” you mused.

He chuckled, his other hand coming to rest on your lower back as your legs intertwined with his. 

“Keep on hoping,” he whispered.

He pulled you flush against his chest, with no hesitation in sight, and your body immediately found solace against his solid frame. You could feel the steady rise of his chest with each breath, a gentle rhythm that lulled you into a state of contentment and peacefulness. 

For all the chaos in your head, your heart was awfully calm as it beat in sync with his.

“I’m sorry it took me a while,” he said solemnly.  

“You don’t have to–” you began, but he cut you off with a small shake of his head.

“I need you to know that it wasn’t you,” he explained. “It was me. Me and my fears. You always bring light in the darkest corners of my world, my sweet girl, and I didn’t want to mess that up,” he muttered against your temple, his lips lingering on your skin. 

Aaron had called you many things before now, but this one was the most precious of them all. 

You gave a firm squeeze to his love handle before your hand came to rest in the middle of his chest, “You won’t mess it up; I won’t let you,” you promised, no doubt in mind that you’d be like gum under his shoe starting now. 

He pinched your hip softly, almost tickling you. You squealed sharply, making passersby and nearby couples look in your direction. 

“Shut up with the cuteness. I had a speech prepared,” he asserted with a casual air of authority that made you tremble in your darkest fantasies. 

“Sorry, sir,” you quipped with a smirk, emphasizing the last word.

His jaw tightened as his hold on you slackened enough to look into your eyes, his own darting between yours. They were dark and heavy with something more, and something almost dangerous in the shadows, but as he cocked his head to avert his gaze, you felt the tension leave his body. 

“I just wanted to say, you made me realize it’s not that scary to be seen.”

You cupped his cheek, offering him a heartwarming smile. “Thank you for letting me see you.”

He closed his eyes as if to savor it, and you let your thumb caress his rough cheek. 

You brought his face close to yours, your lips only inches away when he pulled back. 

“We shouldn't,” he breathed. 

Oh, please. 

Yes, we should.

“I don't care,” you assured him.

He shook his head. His expression was still tender and affectionate, but there was something dark swimming beneath the surface of those warm brown eyes. “I mean not here.” He gave you a wolfish grin. “If I get to kiss you, I won’t be able to stop.”

Oh.

He leaned down and pecked the little spot next to your ear. You shivered in delight. He smelled like a mix of mahogany and old money. 

“My place is close. We can probably still see the fireworks from there,” he murmured. 

 You looked nervous as he picked you up to sit you on his kitchen counter, parting your legs with gentle hands so he could come closer. 

You allowed him to invade your personal space, your legs going around his waist almost instinctively, but when he had caressed your leg up and down, you tensed up. 

You still kissed him back, your lips met his as hungrily as before when you had pulled his shirt out of his pants, but something had shifted when you had glanced around his apartment. Aaron followed your gaze when your eyes had stopped wandering.

You had found a picture of Haley and Jack.  

Jack loved you, it had never been an issue and he didn’t think it would ever be, but Haley loomed over you with her sacredness, and he was helpless to do anything but wait you out as you processed it. 

The love he held for Haley was the only one you knew could never be dismissed. But what you didn’t know was that he already loved you so much that it should have terrified him to think of how that love would only grow. It should have, but it didn't. 

Aaron didn’t know how to love anyone halfway. When he let himself love, it was fiercely and without reservation. His love for you would consume him eventually, and he was happy to let the undercurrent take him if it meant your arms ended up around his neck and your lips ended up on his.

Still, Aaron would never push you if you were unsure, and if nothing happened tonight, he was fine with that. Whether he got to see you naked or not tonight, whether he would have to relieve the pressure in his pants alone at some point or glare at his erection to make it go away, he never wanted you to question your place in his life. 

You weren’t a fling or a hot piece of ass. He didn’t even know how to care less. 

He would not discard you when the excitement of this forbidden adventure faded or the consequences came. He would face your dad with you once you were ready for that. He would ask your dad for your hand in marriage if you wanted him half as much as he wanted you. 

The burning intensity of the kiss lowered to a simmering heat, and it occurred to him that he could provide you some comfort. 

He cradled your face into his big hands, watching you smile at him with so much love in your eyes, with a sparkling gaze more alluring than any fireworks could ever be. He had never felt more positive that this was right. That you were right for him. 

“You know, I've liked you ever since I saw you laugh at your mom's poor attempt to bake you a birthday cake.”

You giggled at the memory, that travesty of a baked good evaporating the discomfort. Tension left your shoulders, your jaw slackened, and you were bubbly and warm again.

“You have me, Aaron.”

Nothing quite took his breath away like you saying his name. 

“Do I?” he asked, surveying your features for any sign of uncertainty. 

“Anything you want,” you promised. “I'm yours tonight.”

He didn’t stop to wonder whether you’d be his after tonight, too drunk on you effectively mewling his name as he rocked his hips into you. 

Aaron had never known he could be too hard to care about semantics. 

He drove his hips into you a few times, making you purr his name like a melody right before you buried your hand in his hair, making him hum and drool in the crook of your neck. 

He gathered his spit with his tongue, licking your skin and finding out how delicious you were. He’d drag his tongue all over you if you let him. 

His cock twitched, and if you continued to moan as he suckled on your pulse point, he’d come in his pants like a teenager. 

He grabbed both of your wrists, hanging on tight and looking at you with appetite. 

“Sweet girl, be quiet for me or I won’t be able to focus on you,” he warned. 

“Aaron–” you whined, grinding against his throbbing erection. 

“Hmm… As much as I’ve dreamt of having you shove that pussy against me, I think I’d rather take my time with you.” He bit your neck, making your loud whimpers his new favorite sound. “You get me so hard I can’t even think straight. I can barely feel my legs.” He thrusted against your clothed core again, and a violent shudder made you squirm on the counter. He braced his hand on each side of your hips, looking deeply into your eyes, finding you smirking despite your flushed skin and damp legging.   

“That’s because you’re an old man. You know, arthritis is the real silent killer,” you joked. 

Of all the times to remind him of your very twisted sense of humor- 

A cackle erupted from your throat and he chuckled dryly. “Such a brat,” he chided, the darkness of his eyes broken by his glimmer of amusement at your determination to bait him now of all times. 

“Do you need me to massage your wrinkled extremities?” Your eyes had a mischievous air to them. You then palmed his erection. “Or just this very tense one?”

He groaned as his knees buckled under him, making him surge closer to you, restraining your movements with his large hands pressed over yours. “Oh, god.”

“My old man, do we need to sit you down?”

With the last of his strength, he picked you up and went towards his armchair, the one facing the balcony where the fireworks were still in full effect. 

He sat down, shifting you to put you over his knee. “Sweetheart, I’m going to teach you some manners.”

You wiggled into a more stable position before turning and saying with the utmost innocence, “I’ve always been told to respect the elderly.”

You could barely finish your sentence, let alone laugh at your quip when his hand came up and slapped you fully on the ass. 

He watched your laughter die in your throat, replaced by a delicious whimper. He caressed the place he had hit, softly brushing his palm against the soft material of your leggings before his other hand settled around your throat. You moaned as he gave it a gentle squeeze, and he felt pre-cum drip from his slit. 

“What happened to your tongue?” he mocked. You said nothing, opting to nod eagerly as he lifted his hand.

He smacked you again, watching you roll your head back as pleasure and pain melted on your skin. 

You proffered him your throat so sweetly, and he squeezed it gently, the contrast between his soft hold on your neck and his firm grip on your ass flooding your cotton leggings. 

Fucking leggings. They did nothing to hide how beautiful you were. 

Your cheeks warm from the flush of blood to your skin, and your moans filled the room around him. The fireworks were sounding off triumphantly, coating the room in flashes of color, yet his eyes never wavered from you. 

You were exquisite. 

“Did you learn your lesson, kitten?” He let his hand wander to your lower back before he took a handful of ass and squeezed. 

“Aaron- Aaron-” You chanted his name, begging for more. 

You were so pliant. So perfect. Just for him. 

“Or do you need more?”

“Aaron–”

“How badly do you want me?” he whispered, his voice rough with arousal. 

“Please don’t make me beg,” you gasped.

“Sweetheart, I’ll do as I damn please.”

He saw an opening, quite literally, as your legs parted to try and grind on his knee, searching for release, for friction, for anything he wouldn’t provide. He repositioned you, but he slipped a hand between your warm folds, feeling how damp the leggings were where you tried to swallow his hand between your thighs. 

“Soaking your leggings already,” he said, his voice a strange mix of stifled pride and feigned disapproval. 

His own arousal started to ache, but he was focused on you. He would make sure you’d remember this, that you’d craved this, that you’d ask for more, and that you’d be his more than just tonight. 

“I think you need more,” he decided aloud for you.

“Please– please–” you pleaded, pride vanishing as he continued to drag the pads of his fingers over your soaked leggings.

It took all of his considerable resolve to resist you, but he was determined to have you reduced to a mess of incoherent sounds harmoniously coating his ears. 

“I asked you to be quiet, sweetheart.”

You moaned loudly at the gravel of his scolding voice. 

It seemed he would have to keep you quiet himself.

He smacked your ass once more, and this time, instead of squeezing your throat, he brought his fingers towards your mouth, tapping on your lips and hoping you’d get the message. 

You opened your mouth so obediently, and he sank his fingers inside, stuffing you with his hand as best as he could, keeping you quiet at last.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” he teased as he pushed them in a little deeper.

You sucked on his fingers in agreement, and he hissed loudly, smacking your ass which had to be sore by now. He longed to be buried inside you and feel how wet you were for him. 

As much as he enjoyed taming the brat out of you, he knew there was no ill intent behind your jokes. You teased the ones you loved,  and he was honored to be included in that group. Besides, he found you so funny that he had a hard time wanting to punish you for it. He compromised with himself by keeping you quiet as his fingers toyed with the damp fabric.

“Are you going to be a good girl now or do I need to shut you up with something else?” 

You moaned loudly in response. 

His dick throbbed and twitched, and he would have to think about his mother’s oatmeal not to come if he felt your lips around his length. 

He removed his fingers from your mouth, propping you up on his lap as his hands roamed over your back soothingly. 

“I’m going to be good, I swear,” you said with the same coy smile that had just gotten you put over his knee. 

You let your body crash against his, and he hugged you close as he stroked your back. 

He smiled, knowing your silence was a testament to your desire for him to touch you.

“Prove it, sweet girl. Prove me how good you can be.”

You really should not have been surprised that his cock was this big; that he would fill your mouth without even having to try.

His hips moved of their own accord the more you sucked, and the more saltiness coated your tongue, the more his thighs quivered, the more his groans made your chest swell with pride. 

“Such a good girl,” he cooed. 

His praise only spurred you on, lapping at his tanginess before you sucked harder on the head, flattening your tongue on the underside of his cock to make his hips buck. 

“See, the thing is, men like blowjobs for the peace and quiet–” he tried to say before a bob of your head halted his words. 

You were terribly good at this game, and you had no intention of losing. You fondled his balls to keep him quiet, deep-throating him in one go. You choked on him, swallowing around him as you tried to breathe through your nose and tears welled in your eyes. 

When you looked up at him, he collected the spit on your chin with his thumb and he practically purred. “Ahh, fuck–” 

His eyes were set on you, and as much as his tender gaze made your skin prickle in delight, he had been so intent on seeing the fireworks earlier that you stopped sucking him off, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. 

You pointed behind you at the sky still lighting up in various colors, wondering how long you had until D.C. grew quiet. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the show,” you remarked, still pumping his wet length with your hand, tracing the vein on his shaft with your tongue. 

He cursed your name, but he was already slack-jawed and shaking, his dark eyes hooded with lust. 

He grabbed your arms to bring you up and he lunged forward, his mouth landing on your wet lips, searing you in a fiery kiss as his tongue swirled with yours. 

You sat on his lap, kissing him back with the raw desire that overwhelmed you as his fingers touched your spine, grazing it with featherlight touches amidst the scorching passion that was setting you on fire from head to toe. 

He grinned from ear to ear with a glint in his eyes. “We’re not going to miss a minute of that show, sweetheart.”

He disappeared down the hallway, leaving you panting and painfully aroused. Moments later, he  came back with his cock wrapped in a condom, and before you could joke about his eagerness to fuck you before his bedtime, he brought you out on the balcony, making you brace your hands on the railing as he entered you swiftly from behind. 

He was so incredibly stiff and large that the breach caught you off-guard, making you whimper as he stretched you out without preparation.

“You were about to say something, my dear brat. I had to shut you up,” he scolded, a soft hand patting your back.

You were wet enough for him to be able to slide right in, but the pain of the intrusion blinded you like a firework had gone off inches from your nose. It felt absolutely addicting how he had carefully mixed pleasure and pain. 

“You’re clenching so hard right now–” he added, his hand finding your pussy and resting there. “You’re drenching me and I’m all wrapped up. You’re making a mess, dirty girl.” 

He gently flicked your clit, making you shudder until all you could feel was the tingle in your extremities. 

You saw people under you, walking in and out of the building. 

“Aaron–” you tried to warn. 

He didn’t relent, his finger faster on your clit. “Shh, my sweet girl. We wouldn’t want people to look up, now, would we?”

Holy shit.

“Tell me when I can move,” he croaked, his tone betraying how close he already was. 

He continued to make you feel good with a finger on your clit, making you incredibly aware that you had to hold yourself up on the railing. 

“Go slow,” you panted.

Fortunately, Aaron was done with the taming, and he thrusted so gently, you wondered if he was pacing himself or actually making love to you. 

Those words had never made sense before now. You had fucked plenty, but this was different. He was sweet, caring, and thoughtful in the way he was taking you, and while he had entered you impatiently, he was taking his time to savor this, to make you feel good. 

He hit your g-spot each time he fully sheathed his length inside you, and with his finger on your clit, with the depth of your feelings for him, it didn’t take long for you to tremble and bite your upper arm to refrain from screaming his name into the air. 

“Mine. You are mine,” he grunted. 

You nodded, doing your best to keep your face from hitting the railing as he plunged into you once more. “I am yours.”

“You. Are. Mine. Not just tonight,” he drawled. 

Apparently, when you had said you were his tonight, he had taken it as a personal offense. 

“Aaron, I am yours for as long as you’ll have me,” you whispered.

You usually made jokes to make light of serious situations, but not now. He deserved your most sincere self. 

He rubbed at your clit with renewed vigor, making the coil in your stomach tighten and rip before you could warn him. His hips stilled almost at the same time, and he hissed curses and praises of your name as you felt him fill the condom with his hot seed. Your clenching walls choked around him, milking his own orgasm out of his balls until every last drop had been emptied into the rubber. 

Aaron grabbed you and moved you inside, slipping out of you and making you miss the full feeling already. He kissed you tenderly, keeping you close to him. 

He was about to kneel when you stopped him, cupping his face with adoration. “I am way too tired for this,” you admitted with a laugh. Admitting your feelings for someone was draining enough without the mindblowing orgasm.

“And here I thought I’d have to stay up past my bedtime with you,” he teased.

“Let me nap and we’ll see.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he agreed, taking your hand and leading you towards his room. “After all, you were such a good girl. You deserve a reward.”

You looked over your shoulder once again, seeing what appeared to be the grand finale of the fireworks for tonight. 

People often say they see stars when the sex is really good, but as far as you were concerned, fireworks were way better.

Nothing was sweeter than your essence, nothing was more delightful than the sounds you were making in his bedroom as if his name was the best chorus you had ever sung. 

He purred the second you pulled his hair as you came, thrashing against his face as you drenched him with your nectar. He didn’t stop until the only thing you could do was mewl his name over and over again, your thighs squeezing his head in and keeping him firmly in place. 

He was proud to see that you had made a mess of his sheets. He would have to change them sometime before he would wash you along with himself, but that was an issue for another time after he had shown you just how beautiful you were to him. 

He lapped at your juices, nestling his face between your thighs before slowly trailing his lips up to seal your lips into a hungry kiss, making you taste what he had gathered on his tongue. He hummed as you entangled yourself with him even more, his hips still searching for friction even though he was empty.

He lay on his side, loving how you instantly cuddled into his arms. He kissed the top of your head as you still rode waves of pleasure, stroking your back with his fingertips. 

Your hands were holding onto his waist, and he had to hide his face in the crook of your neck when he felt you grab a handful of him there. You buried a hand into his hair, making him groan against your skin in the process.

“Why are you touching my love handles?” he breathed. 

“They’re incredibly attractive. Just more of you to love.”

Love?

Aaron was taken aback enough to frown and look into your eyes, finding no mischievous glint or hint of teasing anywhere. 

“You heard me correctly,” you added, cradling his face as if he was precious. 

He kissed your lips in place of a reply, pouring what he could into a gesture rather than words, and he held you firmly in place, pinning you under his weight.

He pulled back just enough to grin at you, his eyes no doubt sparkling with adoration.

“Should we get in the shower?” he suggested. 

You followed him back into his bedroom, and he offered you a tee shirt with a heartwarming smile right before he put on his pajamas. You pulled it on quickly, the cold air of the room replaced by his warm scent. He sat on the edge of his bed, watching you tug at the hem of his shirt with one of his strange half-smiles. 

“Will you stay?” he asked, his eyes begging you not to leave. 

“Do you want me to?”

He nodded, his brows furrowed but his eyes never straying from yours.

“Then I’m staying. But you'd better treat me to some waffles in the morning.”

There was no doubt in your mind that you would have stayed whether he had offered or not. His actions spoke louder than whatever he could say, and it was obvious he wanted you here.

“Oh, sweet girl, I promise there will be waffles.”

He offered you his hand, and you accepted it, allowing him to tug you into bed with him.

You snuggled into his side the second you were under the fresh covers, finding his warmth and cuddly body to be everything you had ever wanted. 

You woke up entangled in his limbs a few hours later. It was still dark outside. The city had finally come to a halt, and silence hung in the air. 

You glanced at the alarm clock, careful to not disturb him. 

3 am. You were familiar with the peacefulness night provided. 

His face was plastered in the crook of your neck and blowing hot air onto it. You gently caressed his hair, making him groan sleepily and his eyelashes tickled your skin. He planted a gentle kiss on your neck before he traced your jaw with soft sleepy kisses.

“What time is it?” he muttered. 

“Still night. Sleep,” you replied, patting his head and massaging his scalp. 

“Don’t leave,” he pleaded, clutching you so tightly you weren’t sure where his body ended and yours started. 

“I won’t.”

He groaned and his soft snores filled the room again within seconds.

You held him in your arms, vowing you’d never let go before he did because tonight he had called you his, and that was by far your favorite thing to be called. 

-------

taglist: @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssa-tahlia-obsessions @rousethemouse @criminalskies @persephonewritessometimes @hotchsdoormat @sweetnightowl @morgthemagpie @a-cloud-for-dreams @hausoflove @simp4f1 @alexxavicry @angelmather1 @hotchsdharma

dating aaron hotchner headcanons: 🩷

•aaron loves being called pet names like sweetheart, honey, or love but he gets a little embarrassed when you use them in front of the team because they tease him for it

•for example, derek finds out that you like to call aaron ‘hot stuff’ and aaron never hears the end of it

•aaron is true gentleman. he brings you flowers every date night, opens every door for you, and pulls out your chair for you to sit down

•aaron loves having his hair played with especially when he’s stressed or tired. his favorite thing is to close his eyes and feel your fingers running through his hair

•you both love to play mario kart together and aaron secretly lets you win because he loves how excited you get

•aaron says he doesn’t like to fall asleep cuddling because he gets too hot but you always wake up to find his arms and legs wrapped around you with his head on your pillow

•aaron keeps a polaroid picture of you in his wallet and looks at it when he’s away on a case and missing you

•aaron knows you miss him when he’s away on cases so he’ll leave his sweater on the bed and pretend that he forgot it but really he just knows you like to sleep in it

•aaron hates dancing and you tease him for being as stiff as a dried spaghetti noodle but you find out he secretly took dance lessons so he could do a good job during your first dance at your wedding

instagram povs - you’re dating aaron hotchner 💕 part 4

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.

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

Thank you for all the requests, please send more they are so fun to write. I have almost finished them but from now on I will have tons of extra free time so sent me prompts or story ideas... I write fluff, angst and smut

Also I have been toying with the idea of writing a theseus scamander story (probably on wattpad and AO3) please tell me if you are interested ... or a oneshot . Plus I have recently released a short zutara story in my accounts on Wattpad and AO3, if you are interested check it out... (you can find them in the link on my bio)

CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR: pretty much all Hatty Potter characters from any era, Star Wars, Five Hargreeves, Tyler Galpin, maybe Formula drivers and possibly more ... and book characters from Percy Jackson and the Olympians, the Heroes of Olympus, The Shadowhunter Chronicles and many more ... SPENCER REID or hotch ...

Lastly if anyone wants to be on my TAGLIST please leave a comment or message ...

Criminal minds masterlist ❤️

Main masterlist

💘-fluff

🔥-smut

💫-angst

🎉-nothing

Derek morgan ✨️

Plane 💘

Kidnapped 💫

Aaron hotchner✨️

Vacation 💘

Spencer reid

Jennifer jareau

Emily prentiss ✨️

Friends 🔥

Masterlist main masterlist request

Aaron and his family on a vacation

What if a drabble about this https://twitter.com/bxnksi_/status/1754954693329998141?t=QfzPSplktYI04Owlt-gzSg&s=19 I just know hotch's gonna be taking that kiss IMMEDIATELY like no thoughts. He'll be like, "screw my point and kiss me".

priorities

this cw; bau!reader, established relationship, kissing, light suggestion, brief arguing into fluff, 6x22 references - this relates to aaron coaching jack's soccer team <3

the team's prying eyes couldn't help but be directed upwards as they attempted to work, due to the visual of you and aaron going at it through his office window. your hurried and raising voice also drifted out his slightly ajar door from time to time.

"it's not fair to you aaron." you insisted, mentally urging him to stop being so stubborn and understand your point. "i get that they need a coach, and it's wonderful they thought of you, but you're too preoccupied."

aaron scoffed lightly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his desk, "preoccupied?"

you gave him a look - c'mon. it was a rather accusatory word, you'd admit it, but he knew what you meant. "the league should be resolving their own problems."

"isn't them asking an attempt to do so?"

"but it's not your problem, or is it your responsibility to accept. i know you feel obligated to and," you reached out to touch his arm affectionately, reminding him you were on his side. "it's so sweet of you to jump at it. but please think about it realistically."

aaron exhaled a breath of his own, turning his eyes away from yours in a subtle eye roll.

"aaron," you gaped at him, your frustration quickly turning into annoyance. "you're in the fbi. you're a unit chief, for god's sake. don't you think they should ask someone who's not on such a strict, unpredictable schedule? what happens when you can't make it to a practice? to a game?"

as you fired off all the reasonings, even throwing in the example that jessica did swing by once to pick up jack upon getting a call for a case - aaron fell quiet, knowing you were right.

he felt obligated; being unreservedly himself, he wanted to be the one to step up and take the initiative. jack's soccer team deserved someone willing and wanting to provide their undivided attention as coach, given majority of the parents were more preoccupied by their phones than watching their own kid. focus - he could provide such.

another convincing factor, being coach would provide him more time with jack. these days, the fact jack was growing up, rapidly, was slowly sinking in. before he knew it, aaron would blink and jack would prefer to do anything else than to hang around his father.

but again, from a realistic standpoint, you were right. trying to navigate a soccer team with his crazy schedule would be extremely difficult; the potential aspect of not being around, and then potentially not being able to find reliable cover - an inevitable, ongoing complication, despite how badly he wished he could manage it.

aaron hadn't meant for this to turn into a disagreement either. to be fair, he had just returned from a meeting with strauss, which always amp'ed up his disposition in one way or another.

but now you were getting heated, and as you thoroughly stated your case, aaron's eyes involuntarily kept flicking down to your lips. the more he attempted to avert his eyes away, they only lingered more.

and not wanting to argue further, he quickly surrendered to his own argument, the only thought beginning to maintain importance was how badly he wanted - no, needed - to kiss you.

"go ahead, say it."

your remark regained his attention, "say what?"

"i know that look, so go ahead." you crossed your arms, huffing a frustrated breath of air out of your nose. you had mistaken his lack of focus for another impending, contrasting detail of his, "say it."

"kiss me."

your expression changed at once; irritation shifting to a softened confusion. "what?"

"what? do you want me to beg?" aaron tossed out, a glint surfacing in his eyes and warming you from the middle out, "fine, you're right, forget about it. now kiss me."

you opened your mouth to respond, but aaron took that as an opportunity to weave his fingers through the belt loops of your pants, pulling you strictly against him and pressing his lips to yours.

once your initial surprise wore off, and focusing on how soft aaron's lips felt on yours, you kissed him in return with just an equal amount of gentle vigor.

you pulled away, your mind attempting to resist his everlasting temptation, bringing your index finger to his chest. "this isn't resolvin-"

but aaron chased your lips, immediately pressing his back to yours and stopping you mid-sentence. you reciprocated eagerly, sighing softly against his lips in content as your fingers found hold on the sides of his suit jacket.

"you're absolutely ridiculous." you laughed against his lips, providing one more chaste kiss before successfully pulling away, your cheeks flushed.

"am i?" he quipped back, rather playfully as his eyebrows rose, a cheeky expression plastered on his face - one of which only made you want to kiss him wildly.

"yeah, you are." you bantered back, exhaling to ease yourself back to the real world, which aaron also assisted in with his next statement, dropping the matter yet again.

"i'm still expecting your supplementary report on the houston case by the end of the day." he said, his hand sliding down your back and patting your ass, playfully urging you to get a move on. "get back to work."

you nearly released an audible groan but instead rolled your eyes, bringing yourself to peck aaron's lips once more. on your way out, you tossed over your shoulder. "this discussion isn't over, you know."

due to your restrained line of vision, you missed the small smirk of his lips. "and if it ends similarly, i'll be looking forward to it."

you see when you did a fic abt reader getting a lil clingy when she’s tired , can we pls have it w aaron instead. like they’re all on the jet and he just puts a hand on her knee or keeps on giving her forehead kisses every second, or even he gets so tired to the point he falls asleep w his head on her shoulder

sleep deprived

clingy aaron my beloved cw; bau!reader, fluff <3

After many years of practice, Aaron's rather proud of his resilience to remain awake and alert despite extreme fatigue.

Some cases called for either little or no sleep at all. Was it his favorite thing to do? No - it knocked his body completely off schedule, worsened with time spent on the West Coast. Had he been exhausted? Absolutely. But he could ignore the feeling well, working just as diligently as if he had gotten a full night's rest.

Frequent helpings of caffeine also assisted.

But when a case resolved and the urgency was dismissed - it was like a switch flipped in his brain. His mind and body knew before he could fully process it, and he felt it. Sleep deprived brain fog, a newly significant heaviness to his body, more irritable if certain buttons were pushed.

He couldn't wait to be home. He couldn't wait to be in the comfort of bed. He couldn't wait for you to be at his side, secure and close in sleep.

Each one of those thoughts correlated to each heavy step as he trudged up the jet's stairs, his eyes latching onto you immediately upon entry.

You were stationed at the kitchenette, head down as you prepared your favorite soothing, nighttime tea.

A wave of affection rippled through him; simply seeing you made him long for you desperately, although you were near and already his. The love he felt for you was unfathomable already, but in a sleep deprived state, it was enhanced greatly. He wanted - no, had to be as close as possible, to be entirely consumed by you.

After storing his go-bag, he swiftly (and slightly clumsily) moved behind you, hands finding your waist easily.

"Hey," you greeted, steeping your tea. Your voice was soft, and he could hear the faint smile in your voice.

"Hey," Aaron echoed in a mumble, his hands sliding forward from your hips to your abdomen. "How are you."

You hummed gently, leaning back to lightly touch your head to his, closing the tiny gap that separated the two of you. "Better now that we're going home."

With your back to his chest, you felt his agreeable chuckle shake through him.

"You want a cup?"

"No, I'm okay." Truthfully, he was certain he would fall asleep before the rim of the mug touched his lips. His head turned, pressing a long kiss to your temple, speaking into it, "Thank you though."

His lips lingered while you finished prepping your tea, adding light honey and lemon. With you in his arms, matching your evenly distributed breaths, Aaron's hold wasn't only to hold you, but to keep him standing upright. The lights on the jet had already been dimmed, as everyone settled down for the red eye flight, so that wasn't helping his tiredness either. He was just as comfortable as if he were in his bed at home.

You felt him nodding off. His arms - unknown to him, as he thought otherwise - were loosening, his figure even swaying the smallest amount. You hurried, knowing he probably wouldn't claim his seat without you at his side. And when you made your way over, Aaron followed like a lost puppy, his fingers grasping onto the back of your shirt.

Your blanket was already at your seat; after setting your tea aside, you draped it over your lap, offering half to Aaron. You even managed to pry him out of his suit jacket and tie.

His hand started out in yours, before finding home on your thigh - enjoying the comfort of contact. His fingers were splayed across the width, keeping you as close as the seats could awkwardly offer. Part of him considered persuading Reid from his usual spot, allowing the two of you a turn to lie down.

But it was Spencer's favorite spot, the rest of the team would never let him live down visibly 'cuddling', and he was too tired to move, so the regular seats would have to do.

His thumb began brushing against the fabric of your pants, the lull bringing him closer to sleep. He placed a kiss on your shoulder, then your jaw, before nestling his head on your shoulder.

A faint blush trickled onto your face, feeling warm from both the tea and the open tenderness. "Aaron?"

A very drowsy, "Hm?" came from below your ear.

You simply leaned your head against his, a contentful sigh leaving you. Under the blanket, your hand rest atop his, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.

Aaron's eyes remained closed, but a sleepy smile made its way onto his face. In the smallest of whispers, "I love you too."