#Aaron hotchner gif

[knitmeatardis]

I ship it.

PENELOPE GARCIA + AARON HOTCHNER

↳ Favorite moments

[softtdaisy]

Hotch's looks that live in my mind rent free 1/?

[alinathinkstoomuch]

hiiii I want to join the masses and thank you for bringing fake fiancé Hotch into our lives!

I had a random thought about them that you can completely ignore and delete but what if a case brought Hotch to his fake fiancée's work? 👀

She's trying to be professional (and failing) and Hotch is just trying to solve crimes without falling fast for his fake fiancée while also ignoring Rossi is being a brat about it all

CRAVING CLARITY - FAKE FIANCÉ

pairing: aaron hotchner x fake!fiancée!reader warnings | an: first of all thank you bestie!! hope i did your request justice 💓 fluff, shameless flirting, slight self-doubt from reader which aaron scoops up real quick, rossi being rossi. word count: 2.4k

✧ masterlist | part one & part two

You were elbow-deep in samples – literally and figuratively – drowning in endless deadlines with no lifeline in sight. Honestly, it felt like you were the only person in the entire company actually capable of meeting them. Carrying the whole operation on your back? Exhausting. Somewhere between fabric swatches and frantic emails, you had completely zoned out.

And you seemed to only snap back to reality when Bella, your assistant, waved her hands wildly in front of your face.

“Earth to you,” she said, snapping her fingers. “Did you hear a single word I just said, or should I start over with even bigger hand gestures.”

You blinked at her, still half-lost in the chaos of your to-do list. “Uh… something about me being a visionary genius who deserves an all-expenses-paid spa retreat?”

Bella rolled her eyes, plucking a stray patch of fabric from your desk. “Close, but no. I said there’s someone here to see you. Actually, two someones – both with FBI badges.”

You froze. “What? FBI?”

Oh no.

Had Hotch finally had enough? Had he officially put you on the infamous FBI watchlist? Decided that your emoji usage was a national security risk? Because honestly, you barely sent him that many – just the occasional heart, a well-placed sparkly star, maybe a winky face or two. And it’s not like he ever responded in kind. Not even once. Which, frankly, was an injustice.

And still, despite all your undeniable charm and very reasonable flirting, he had yet to ask you out. That, in itself, was a crime.

Which was exactly why you were going to make him wait. Just a minute. Or five. Just long enough to figure out what the hell he was doing here – and why flashing FBI badges was necessary in your perfectly peaceful, extremely fashionable workspace.

You smoothed down your outfit, tilting your head as you turned to Bella. “Did they say what it was about?” you asked, already moving toward the mirror, because if you were about to face Aaron Hotchner and whatever Bureau-level drama he had brought with him, you were at least going to look flawless doing it.

Bella shrugged, her eyes following you. “Something about needing access to records for a client we work with. No clue, honestly, sounds way above my pay grade.” She leaned against your desk, arms crossed. “They asked to speak to whoever’s in charge, and, well… that would be you.”

You sighed, fluffing your hair a little as you checked your reflection. And it was absolutely because your hair needed fluffing at this exact moment and not because a certain moody, absurdly handsome FBI agent was waiting for you.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” you muttered, making your way toward the lobby. As you turned the corner, it didn’t take long to spot them – Aaron Hotchner and his very good friend, and someone you’d quickly taken a liking to, David Rossi. It was slightly comical to see how out of place the two of them looked.

Would a splash of colour really kill them both?

You took a step closer, amusement curling at the edges of your lips. “So this is a thing now, huh?”

Hotch cocked his head, eyes narrowing as he watched you approach. “A thing?” he echoed, his voice sounding just as dry as you remembered.

Rossi, of course, wasted no time as he nudged him with a smirk. “Yeah, Aaron. You know – showing up at each other’s workplaces unannounced.”

You beamed, gesturing toward him. “See? Dave gets it.” You gave the two agents a once over, taking in their perfectly pressed suits and matching we-are-here-on-official-business expressions. You sighed dramatically, placing a hand on your hip. “Though, I do have one complaint… I don’t see any cookies.”

“Ah, yes. The cookies,” Rossi mused, turning to Hotch. “You should’ve seen him, going wild, breaking each one apart like they were evidence, searching for your number.” He gave you an approving nod. “Nice touch, by the way.”

Hotch exhaled very deliberately, eyes shooting daggers at Rossi. You, on the other hand, just giggled. He was ridiculously cute when he was flustered, all stiff posture and barely contained why do I put up with these people energy.

“Thank you, Dave.” Your tone was all honey-sweet innocence, like you hadn’t just turned Hotch’s mild embarrassment into your own personal entertainment. “Now, as much as I’d love to believe you’re here because the FBI finally approved a budget increase for uniforms, I have a feeling that’s not the reason.”

Rossi chuckled which caused Hotch to finally cut in before things finally spiralled completely out of control.  “Sorry to barge in like this. We’re here about a case.”

“How tragic.” Your hand made its way over to your heart. “And here I thought this was a romantic gesture.”

Hotch barely reacted – barely – but you didn’t miss the slight flare of his nostrils, the subtle shift of his jaw.

“We need access to client records from a company your firm collaborates with,” he explained, voice clipped, like if he just kept talking the entire conversation would magically reset itself. “Their CFO isn’t cooperating, and we believe you can help us expedite the process.”

“Mm,” you hummed, rocking back on your heels. “I can expedite a lot of things.”

That got him.

The barest shift of his mouth. The way his throat bobbed ever so slightly before he spoke. “The records,” he clarified, tone just a little tighter.

“You know…you’re awfully demanding for a man who still hasn’t taken me to dinner.”

“I didn’t realise dinner was a prerequisite for cooperation.”

You glanced briefly at Rossi, a silent Can you believe this guy? before turning back to Hotch. “Oh, Agent Hotchner,” you chided, sighing again as if he was the most exhausting man on the planet. “If you wanted my help, you could have just asked nicely.”

“I am asking nicely.”

You pursed your lips. “Are you? Because I think you could be a little nicer.”

Silence.

“You poor man,” Rossi chuckled, shaking his head. “This is hilarious.”

Hotch turned to Rossi who was still grinning like this was the highlight of his week – maybe even the entire month. “Are you done?”

“Not even close.”

“He really should be nicer to me, don’t you think?” You glanced at Rossi, like you were seeking expert legal counsel.

“Absolutely,” Rossi said without hesitation. “Common courtesy. Maybe some flowers. A little charm, even.”

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose like he was deeply reconsidering every life choice that had led him here. “I cannot believe I brought him with me,” he muttered under his breath.

“Alright, alright,” you relented, holding up your hands in surrender. “I suppose I could be persuaded to help. Purely out of the kindness of my heart, of course.”

Turning slightly, you motioned for Bella – who was definitely eavesdropping from just out of view – to come over. She sauntered in like she hadn’t just been shamelessly listening in.

“Bells, be a dear and show these two lovely gentlemen to the records they’re requesting.”

Before she could respond, Rossi held up a hand. “It’s alright,” he interrupted, cutting Hotch off before he could protest. “I’ll go, it’s not a two-man job.” Then, sparing you a knowing glance, he clapped Hotch on the shoulder. “You two can chat.”

You arched a brow, watching as Rossi motioned for Bella to lead the way.

And just like that, it was just the two of you.

You gaze flicked back to Hotch, your focus settling on him with an ease that almost annoyed you. Because, truly, how did this man manage to hold your attention so effortlessly? He wasn’t doing anything – just standing there, arms crossed, rocking that same old serious, mysterious expression. And yet, he might as well have had a gravitational pull.

They had to be teaching witchcraft at the FBI Academy. And maybe you should enrol, if only to figure out how to make him give you even an inch of the attention you kept throwing his way.

“Tell me, Aaron Hotch Hotchner, am I wasting my time here?” you asked, mirroring his stance as you crossed your arms.

His brow lifted, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond before pressing on.

“Because, at this point, I’ve done everything short of throwing my clothes off to get you to ask me out, and yet the only time you seem to come and see me is… well, today. And only because you need something.”

There. It was out.

You hadn’t planned to take the conversation in this direction, hadn’t expected to lay your cards out so plainly. But you were a woman who had suffered one too many heartbreaks, and at this point, you just needed clarity.

Because if this – whatever this was – was just some game to him, then you needed to walk away before you let yourself hope for something that would never happen.

Hotch didn’t react right away. He just looked at you, really looked at you, like he was weighing his response with the same precision he used to profile criminals.

That did not help your nerves.

“Well?” you prompted, your voice a touch softer, more hesitant. “Because if this is just some game to you –”

“It’s not a game.”

You swallowed, your fingers curling against your arms. “Then what is it?”

“You’re not wasting your time,” he assured you. “I just… can’t always give you as much of it as I want to.”

You let out small, breathy laugh. “God, you really have a way of making a woman work for it, don’t you?”

His lips parted, but before he could say anything, you kept going. “Because, see, this? This is the kind of thing a girl needs clarity on.” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “If I like a man, I don’t not tell him. I bake, I flirt, I –” You huffed. “I wear my best heels and make sure my hair looks good when I know I might see him.”

His gaze flickered downward for a second before he brought it back up to your face.

“I work a lot,” he said finally. “And if I asked you to dinner, I’d want to be able to actually be there, not just physically, but completely. I wouldn’t want to have to leave halfway through because of a phone call. You deserve a date where I can give you my undivided attention.”

Oh.

Of all the things you had expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them. For the first time, Aaron Hotchner wasn’t shutting you down. He wasn’t brushing you off. He was telling you, plain and simple, that he wanted this – but he wanted to do it right.

And damn it, if that didn’t make you like him even more.

“Right… well, I’m busy too, you know. It’s not like I can just drop everything on a day that works for you or whatever.”

His smile was small but undeniable this time, and God help you, it was unfairly charming. “I wouldn’t expect you to. That’s why I’d ask in advance.”

You let a breath out, swirling a finger in the air at him. “Unbelievable. I am supposed to be the one making you flustered.”

“You do.”

You groaned, pressing your hands over your face in defeat. “Aaron Hotch Hotchner, I’m going to need you to vacate this building immediately.”

“I don’t think that’s how FBI jurisdiction works.”

You dropped your hands. “I don’t care how FBI jurisdiction works. You are menace, and I need you gone before you say something else that makes me –” You gestured vaguely in the air again, trying to find the right words. “– like you even more.”

His brow lifted and you hated that he looked so pleased with himself. “That would be a problem?”

“Yes!” you blurted before catching yourself. “Because my feelings for you need to be contained, okay? Like a jug that must not overflow. Not until I get that stupid date. I cannot like you more than I do now. It is against my nature, Aaron Hotch Hotchner.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Oh, don’t smile at me,” you lectured. “You know I’m right!”

“I don’t think emotions work like that.”

“Well, mine do,” you argued. “I have a system, Hotchner. A process which you are disrupting.”

He took a step closer. Too close. Instinctively, you took one back, because absolutely not. He could not be this close to you right now, not when you were in such a delicate (feral) state.

“And what exactly is this system?” he asked, his voice maddeningly calm.

You scoffed, waving a hand. “Oh, it’s very simple. I flirt. You ignore me. I get bored. I move on. That was the plan. But now? Now you’re smiling at me and talking about dates in advance, and frankly, I find it very disruptive to my workflow.”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t want to throw off your workflow,” he murmured, voice dropping slightly.

You gasped, pointing at him with pure betrayal. “There! That! That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“What?” He feigned innocence and you wanted to shove him straight out the damn door and call security on him.

“You know what,” you accused. “You’re flirting.”

“I thought that was part of your system.”

“Oh my God.” You threw your hands up. “I take it back. You are not allowed to be good at this.”

He nodded, as if this was a very serious discussion. “Ah. So, to be clear, you want me to ignore your advances?”

You stared at him, eyes narrowed. And then, without thinking, you stepped forward, grabbed him by the lapels of his stupid FBI suit, and let out a long, dramatic groan into his chest. “Aaron,” you muttered into the fabric, “I hate you.”

His body was still for a second. Then, to your absolute horror, you felt his chest rumble with something dangerously close to a chuckle.

You yanked yourself back so fast you nearly tripped, eyes wide with betrayal. “Did you just laugh?”

“No.” His tone would agree, but his face did not.

“Oh, my God.” You shoved at his chest, half out of indignation, half just to do something with your hands. “You’re enjoying this.”

He didn’t confirm or deny it.

Which meant he absolutely was.

Before you could formulate a proper rebuttal, a voice cut in from behind you.

“Well, it’s a good thing we went to get these,” Rossi said, strolling in beside Bella. “Otherwise, God knows what these two would get up to in the back room.”

You took a very large, very obvious step back. “Please, Dave. We’re professionals.”

Rossi smirked. “Oh, sure. That’s definitely what me and Bella have just walked in on.”

tags - @fandomscombine @dohmeti @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog

dividers by cafekitsune

[kiwriteswords]

Why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words [Aaron Hotchner x Best Friend!Reader]

Masterlist|| Ao3||Word Count: 5k|| AN: This is inspired by the song You are in love by Taylor Swift...legit...my favorite piece I've written <3 Tags/Warnings: female reader, established relationship, sexual themes, mdni, no smut, but mentions of sex, yearning!Hotch, in love!hotch, best friends, Intimacy, this is INTIMATE, Hotch's POV, Sad!Hotch, Jack Hotchner is mentioned, Haley Hotchner is mentioned, 5+1, alcohol tw, ROMANCE IS NOT DEAD PEOPLE, Reader cannot cook to save her life, free-spirit!reader, reader struggles to open up sometimes Summary: 5 Times Aaron Hotchner realizes you're his best friend + 1 time he tells you.

I. 

The bullpen had long since emptied.

Desks abandoned, lights dimmed. The hum of the vending machines below, the faint buzz of the overhead fluorescents—

Those were the only sounds keeping him company now.

Aaron sat in his office, perched over files like they held secrets no one else could see. The rest of the team had told him to go home, told him the case was done. Closed. Wrapped neatly in bureaucratic red tape.

But something still gnawed at him.

Something still didn’t sit right. He didn’t often get this feeling, but when he had an itch, he just had to scratch it.

Obsessively, almost. 

He rubbed at his temple, willing the creeping headache to back off. His eyes burned from staring too long at reports that no longer blurred together but formed patterns he wasn’t convinced were coincidence.

Rossi had chuckled earlier, slapping a heavy hand on his shoulder, "You're overtired, Aaron. Let it go."

Morgan had shot him a grin, all charm and ease, "Man, you're gonna drive yourself crazy if you keep picking this apart."

Emily, exasperated but fond, had tossed over her shoulder as she left, "Get some sleep, Hotch. You’ve earned it."

He almost believed them. 

Almost.

Until you walked in. Quiet, unassuming—

But so damn steady.

You didn't say much at first. Just nudged open the door with your hip, balancing an entire pot of coffee like it was some peace offering. 

Like you already knew he wouldn’t leave. 

Knew he wouldn’t rest until whatever weight clung to his shoulders shook free.

“I figured,” you said simply, setting the pot down beside his untouched cup. “If you’re going to obsess over this all night, you’ll need caffeine.” Settling in across from him, still in your clothes from the jet. Your blouse slightly wrinkled, “And company.” You smiled

He couldn’t help the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You always knew exactly how to read him—

Without making him feel like a project. 

Like something broken that needed fixing.

You didn’t ask questions or try to talk him down. Instead, you grabbed one of the files strewn across his desk, slid into the chair across from him, and got to work.

He watched for a second longer than he should’ve. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear absentmindedly, the soft furrow in your brow as you read, lips parting just slightly when something caught your attention. There was no complaint, no impatience—

Just that quiet, unwavering presence you always seemed to bring.

Time blurred. Reports shuffled between you both, punctuated by the occasional sip of coffee and the rustle of paper. Midnight came and went.

And still, you stayed.

Eventually, Hotch leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose. His gaze drifted back to you. You looked up then, catching him mid-thought, eyes curious.

“What’s with the funny look?” you asked lightly, a small smile playing at your lips.

He swallowed.

Shook his head, “Nothing,” he said softly, almost too quickly.

But the truth sat heavy in his chest, undeniable.

Because somewhere between the case files, the stale coffee, and the quiet understanding you offered without asking for anything in return—

It hit him.

You were his best friend.

Not just his partner, not just his girlfriend. 

His person.

The one who stayed. Who understood. Who saw every sharp edge, every obsessive tendency, and chose to be here anyway.

He wondered briefly if it showed on his face—

If you could see how the realization cracked something open in him.

But you just smiled again, tilting your head, and went back to the file without pressing.

That was another reason why.

He exhaled, forcing his eyes back down to the paperwork, but his focus was already elsewhere.

"You're my best friend."

He didn’t say it aloud.

Not yet. 

But the thought lingered—

Settled somewhere deep, where it would stay warm until he was ready.

II.

Saturday mornings had never looked quite like this.

Aaron stood leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, coffee cup in hand, as he watched you work. Or—more accurately—watched you try not to set his kitchen on fire.

You’d insisted. Insisted that after the week they’d all had, you’d cook breakfast. 

Something nice, you promised.

He hadn’t reminded you of that conversation months ago, where you admitted with no shame whatsoever that cooking wasn’t exactly your strength.

You were nothing if not determined.

And now, as he watched from a safe distance, Aaron wondered if it was possible to burn bacon and undercook it at the same time.

The smell of something acrid mixed with the faint scent of coffee as you plated… well, whatever attempt had survived the pan. Eggs scrambled into something that resembled the theme of a Dr. Suess novel. Bacon blackened on the ends, yet suspiciously soft in the middle. And the toast—charred just enough to set off the smoke alarm if you weren’t careful.

Jack, ever the polite little man, sat at the table with his fork poised, eyeing the plate in front of him with the same caution he reserved for vegetables.

You, for your part, plopped down beside him, trying valiantly to act like the mess wasn’t as bad as it looked.

Aaron bit the inside of his cheek, lips twitching, fighting back the laugh threatening to bubble out of him.

You poked at your eggs, then braved a bite—

Only to grimace so subtly he almost missed it.

Jack glanced between you both, unsure whether to risk saying anything.

The silence stretched—

Until you finally gave up, setting your fork down dramatically with a sigh.

“I think I’ve just committed a crime against breakfast,” you muttered, looking at your plate like it personally offended you.

You glanced over at Aaron, catching the barely-contained amusement in his eyes.

“I like it better when you cook anyway,” you added, soft but sweet, as if it were some confession.

That did it.

The laugh escaped before he could stop it. A real, genuine, rare laugh—

Deep, warm, and unguarded. 

He hadn’t even realized how tight his chest felt until it loosened.

Jack blinked at him, then giggled too, relief flashing across his face.

“We should’ve had ice cream,” Jack piped up, earnest as ever. “For breakfast.”

Without missing a beat, you nodded, “You know what, you’re right. We should’ve.”

Aaron shook his head, still smiling, still trying to school his face into something more neutral but failing miserably.

You reached over, ruffling Jack’s hair as he beamed at you, already forgetting about the eggs.

And there it was again—

That look. 

That tightening in his throat. 

That weight in his chest.

He’d known for a long time now that he loved you. That much had settled quietly between you both, something unshakable and steady.

But sitting here, watching you laugh with Jack, watching you fold so seamlessly into the spaces of his life—the messy, imperfect spaces—hit differently. 

Hit harder.

It wasn’t just love.

It wasn’t just partnership.

It was the way you’d become part of his family without ever asking him to be anything other than himself.

It was the way you burned toast and still made Saturday mornings feel lighter.

The way you looked at Jack like he was yours too.

The way you looked at him like all of this—the chaos, the quiet, the sharp edges—was enough.

"You’re my best friend."

The thought lodged somewhere deep, solid and true.

You caught him staring again, gave him a quizzical look, eyebrows raised.

“What?” you asked, playful. “That bad, huh?”

He shook his head, still smiling, voice soft,  “No. Not bad at all.”

You didn’t press. Just gave him one of those grins that could unravel anyone if they let it.

Aaron glanced at the mess of plates, the laughter still hanging in the air, and decided he didn’t care if breakfast had been a disaster.

He had everything he needed right here.

III.

The case had wrapped, mercifully.

Suspect caught. Papers signed. Local PD…satisfied. As satisfied as they can be.

What should’ve been a relief, though, left Aaron gritting his teeth as he loaded into the car.

The jet was down for maintenance.

A mechanical issue, they'd said.

Nothing serious—

But serious enough to leave the team stranded with no choice but to drive back.

Hours on the open road, split between borrowed cars, all scattered in twos.

Rossi had made a crack about how it was probably some cosmic sign they all needed to "slow down and enjoy the journey."

Aaron didn’t find that amusing.

The idea of spending hours locked in a car didn’t exactly relax him. He liked efficiency. Control. Time maximized, not wasted. He would’ve preferred the jet.

But as it turned out, the universe had one mercy left:

You were the one riding with him.

Something about lovebirds sticking together, Derek encouraged. 

At first, the quiet settled easily—

Your presence something familiar and grounding, the way it always was. He focused on the road, tuning into the faint hum of classic rock spilling from the speakers. Something he'd put on more out of habit than anything else.

Five minutes in, he noticed.

The soft, off-key hum coming from the passenger seat.

He flicked his eyes over briefly.

You were singing—

Badly.

And you weren’t trying to hide it, either.

So unapologetically you. The you he loved. 

Adored.

The corners of his mouth threatened to tug upwards.

This wasn’t your kind of music. He knew that. But you’d asked once what he listened to on long drives, and he’d told you. And now here you were, nodding your head to the rhythm, mouthing lyrics. 

He let himself glance at you longer than he should have, the road stretching ahead endlessly.

The way you tapped your fingers against your thigh, how you kept stealing glances at him between verses to see if he was paying attention.

You made the hours not so bad.

Actually—

You made them...good.

His best friend. 

The thought slid in again, unbidden, familiar now. 

His grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly.

Hours passed. Conversation came easy with you—

Quiet stretches filled with comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional sarcastic quip or comment that had him biting back a smile.

Eventually, at some point well into the drive, you insisted they switch. He pulled off at a rest stop without much argument, trusting you with the wheel.

For a while, he buried himself in a case file, pen scratching, his brows knit as the miles slipped by. 

Until something small tugged at his attention.

The GPS.

You weren’t following it.

He glanced up. Frowned slightly.

“Where are you going?” he asked, tone calm but curious, almost suspicious.

You shot him a grin, eyes fixed on the road, “Trust me.”

Those two words.

They had more weight than you probably knew.

Aaron almost replied, almost protested—

Until he saw you slow, flicking on your blinker, pulling into a near-empty parking lot.

His frown deepened.

The ocean stretched out just beyond the sand dunes, gray and shimmering under a setting sun. The air still held that early spring bite, not warm enough to be here, not really. The waves looked brutal, frothy, cold.

You parked, throwing the car into park before looking at him expectantly.

“Come on,” you said, already reaching for the door handle.

He blinked,  “Are you serious?”

You didn’t answer. Just slipped out of the car like it was the most natural thing in the world, gravel crunching under your feet. He watched, momentarily stunned, as you kicked off your shoes without hesitation and darted toward the sand.

It took him longer to move.

You were already down the slope, the wind catching your hair, your jacket flapping behind you. You ran—

Ran like no one was watching.

Spinning in lazy circles, arms stretched wide, laughing at nothing at all.

The sky was streaked in pinks and blues, the sun kissing the edge of the horizon.

And there you were.

So carefree, so alive—

As if the week you’d just had hadn’t happened at all.

Aaron swallowed thickly, pulse strange in his ears.

You looked like something he’d forgotten he could want.

Youthful. Joyful. Unburdened.

How the hell did you always know?

Finally, he shoved open the door, hands in his pockets as he made his way toward you.

You caught sight of him as you turned—grinned—and without warning, ran straight back, crashing into him like a force of nature. A ball of warmth and energy, breathless and glowing.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, but there was no heat behind it.

You looked up at him, wind whipping strands of hair across your face.

“So I’ve been told.”

And before he could offer some other dry remark, you leaned up and kissed him—

Quick but firm, like it was the only logical response.

It was. 

He felt himself smile against your lips despite the cold. Despite everything.

I love you, you’re my best friend. 

The words echoed loud in his chest, clearer than ever before.

You had dragged him out of his head, out of the grind and exhaustion, into this moment. A simple, ridiculous detour—

But perfect in its absurdity.

He held you a little tighter, burying his nose in your hair, breathing you in.

Yeah.

You knew exactly what he needed.

You always did.

IV.

You didn’t fight often.

Rarely, in fact.

It wasn’t necessary.

You understood him—

Almost unnervingly well. 

The rhythms, the silences, the unspoken things he kept close to his chest. You moved alongside him like you'd been doing it your whole life, sidestepping the need for arguments before they ever gained traction.

Which made it all the worse when it happened.

He could still hear the edge in his own voice, the sharpness he never liked to use with you. It had started small. A briefing after a long case. You’d been quiet—too quiet—until finally you told him.

The Bureau had offered you a temporary undercover role.

A weekend. One week, tops.

A specialized operation, short turnaround.

You were perfectly qualified. More than capable. He knew that. Respected it.

And still—

He’d felt something ugly twist inside.

It wasn’t rational.

It wasn’t professional.

It was personal.

But instead of telling you that, instead of stripping down the mask of pride and control he always wore, he’d deflected. Asked if you were sure. If it was worth it. If you understood the risk—questions he had no business asking, because you knew damn well what you were doing.

You bickered—

Circling each other in familiar patterns, but the undercurrent felt different this time. 

Tense. 

Frustrated.

He wanted to tell you not to go.

He wanted to tell you he couldn’t stand the idea of you gone, out there without him, without knowing if you’d be safe.

But what came out instead was clipped remarks, deflections.

And pride. Always pride.

He'd watched as your expression shifted—tired, maybe even a little hurt—but resolute. You were going.

You had to.

And he couldn’t blame you. Wouldn’t.

Not when he respected the hell out of who you were and what you were capable of.

But God, he’d looked at you then. Looked at you with something you didn’t seem to recognize.

That look.

The one he’d caught himself giving you before.

The one you hadn’t figured out yet.

I love you. You're my best friend.

He hadn't said it.

Couldn't.

Thought it juvenile, silly. 

What grown man confessed something like that out loud?

So he let the argument fizzle, let you walk away to pack, and found himself alone in his apartment, staring at the ceiling like it might offer him some clarity.

It didn’t.

The bed felt empty without you.

The space beside him cold, unfamiliar.

He tossed. Turned. Listened to the muffled sounds of traffic outside, wondering where you were at that exact moment—

What role you’d slipped into, how you were carrying yourself, who was around to watch your back.

He didn’t like feeling powerless.

Didn’t like this ache in his chest that he couldn’t quiet, no matter how many case files he’d tried to bury himself in earlier.

And the longer he laid there, sleepless and restless, the more one thought threaded itself deeper:

You’re my best friend.

He couldn’t shake it.

He thought about Haley, briefly.

How much he’d loved her. His wife. Jack’s mother. High school sweetheart. First…everything, pretty much. 

But it wasn’t the same.

This—you—felt different.

With you, he never had to stop being himself.

You never asked him to shrink or soften the sharp edges. Never expected him to be anything other than exactly who he was.

You laughed at his dry, quiet humor—

The kind that others barely caught.

Matched it sometimes, firing back quips that no one else would dare say but always made him bite back a smirk.

You knew his next move before he did.

 Knew the reasons behind the things he didn’t verbalize.

And you let him be.

You got him.

He wondered, lying there, when exactly you’d become his person.

Wondered if he’d ever really had a best friend before you.

The age difference between his brother and him. The forced parentified self he became around his brother, never allowed room for friendship. 

Sure, in passing there were coworkers he trusted--relied on--the job pretty much called for it. But he’s not sure he’d consider Derek Morgan his best friend. He’s not sure he could call up a former body from his prosecutor days and expect them to put the type of smile you put on his face. 

It was so much more than just love, romance, and companionship with you. He’s pretty sure he will spend the rest of his life trying to put into words what it is you do to him. For him. 

His best friend. 

It felt childish, stupid even, to think of it in those terms.

But there it was.

 Simple.

True.

You were the one he wanted to tell everything to.

The one whose absence left something hollow in his chest.

The one he loved.

The one who knew him.

His best friend.

And somehow, that realization cut deeper than any argument ever could.

V. 

He hadn't expected moving boxes and takeout containers to feel this monumental.

It was simple, really. Tiring. The kind of day that usually left him cranky and sore, mind already drifting to paperwork or tomorrow's responsibilities.

But tonight?

Tonight was different.

Your things were here now—

Intermingled with his. Coats hanging beside his in the closet. Your books tucked beside his on the shelves. Your toothbrush next to his in the bathroom, like it had always belonged there.

Aaron sat slouched on the living room couch, one arm lazily draped across the back, the other holding the nearly empty wine glass he’d been nursing. You were curled beside him, legs tangled with his, eyes heavy-lidded but bright. The bottle and a half of wine you’d worked through sat forgotten on the table next to the half-eaten boxes of Chinese food, now cold.

Jack had fallen asleep easily hours ago, his laughter still lingering faint in the air. Like the whole apartment felt lighter just from the two of you being here, together, as if something had finally clicked into place.

The music played low, some soft jazz station crackling through the speakers.

Neither of you said much for a while. Just occasional glances. The gentle brush of your foot against his calf. Comfortable silence.

Until you broke it, voice soft and a little slurred at the edges.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

He quirked a brow, glancing over at you,  “Haven’t we covered all the bases?”

You smiled, lazy and loose, shaking your head, “Humor me.”

So you traded stories—

Small things at first. 

Embarrassing childhood memories. Weird quirks. The first concert you ever went to. He laughed at that, genuinely, the wine and exhaustion making it easier to let go.

And then you asked.

“What’s your biggest fear, Aaron?”

The question knocked something loose in his chest.

He blinked, caught off guard, searching your face.

You watched him carefully, but there was no pressure there. Just curiosity. Openness.

He hesitated. Briefly. 

And you caught it.

You shifted, sitting up just slightly, balancing your wine glass on the armrest. There was something in your eyes now—

Not just the buzz of the alcohol, but that same steady, fearless look you had walking into danger. 

Brave. Direct.

You licked your lips, almost nervous, but not backing down,  “I’ll go first,” you said, voice quieter now.

He didn’t interrupt, letting you have the space.

You took a breath.

“My biggest fear is losing you.” Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, eyes fixed on some invisible spot on the floor, “or Jack.”

You laughed under your breath—wet, almost self-deprecating—but when you looked back at him, your gaze was raw.

“I’ve never had this before,” you continued, voice cracking just slightly. “Never had…someone who sees me. All of me. Good, bad, messy. And it scares the hell out of me how much I don’t want to lose it.”

His throat felt tight, the words catching somewhere. It wasn’t the wine making him feel choked up—

It was you.

The sheer honesty of it. The fact that even after all this time, you still managed to surprise him.

He set his glass down carefully, reaching over to catch your hand, fingers threading through yours.

“It’s the same,” he admitted, voice low. Rough. He swallowed, “losing you. Losing this. I never—” He paused, trying to find the right words, the ones sitting heavy in his chest. “I never want to lose you. And I’ll do everything I can to keep you. To keep both of you.”

You smiled softly at him, eyes glassy from the wine, the flush on your cheeks making you look impossibly angelic, impossibly his.

“You’re stuck with me now,” you teased, voice playful but laced with something tender. Then, almost mischievously, you added, “You know…you’re kind of my favorite person.”

He huffed a quiet laugh at that, shaking his head, but the weight of it—

God, it hit him hard.

You leaned in without hesitation, lips finding his, and the kiss tasted like fruit and something deeper.

Something permanent.

It wasn’t hurried.

It wasn’t messy.

It was moving.

All the weight of the day, the exhaustion, the vulnerability, poured into it.

When you finally pulled back, breath warm against his cheek, he stayed still—

Eyes opening slowly, wanting to just look at you.

Soak you in forever. And even after that. Even after forever ended, he’s sure he’d still want more. 

You smiled, lazy and soft, and asked, “What’s that look for?”

He almost told you.

Almost let the words slip—

The ones he’d been feeling for months now, lodged deep in his chest every time you smiled at him, every time you laughed with Jack, every time you made his world feel brighter without even trying.

My best friend.

But instead, he shook his head faintly, voice quiet. 

“I’m just thinking about you.”

You grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw, before pulling back, eyes glinting mischievously despite the wine haze.

“Well…” you murmured, voice dipping lower, lips brushing against his ear. “Now that we live together…want to go try out the bed properly?”

His breath caught.

Yeah.

He liked that idea.

Very much.

+1

The bedroom was dark, save for the faint orange glow of streetlights filtering through the blinds. The occasional sound of a car passing below, the whisper of tree branches rustling against the windowpane—

Small things grounding him in the moment.

Aaron lay still, one arm wrapped tightly around you, the sheets tangled somewhere near his waist. Your head rested against his chest, breath steady, soft against his skin. The warmth of your body pressed close, leg draped lazily over his, completely relaxed in sleep.

It should’ve been easy for him to follow you there.

Sleep usually came fast after nights like this—

Hours spent wrapped up in you, nothing held back, every piece of himself laid bare.

But tonight…

He couldn’t.

Not when it felt like something inside him might split wide open.

Because he had never had this before.

Not like this.

He stared up at the ceiling, his fingers trailing absently along the curve of your back, and let the thoughts come.

You.

God, you.

These days, that’s what lived in his brain rent free. 

You’d slipped into his life like you’d always been meant to be there, like some force had been quietly working all along to bring you to him when he needed you most.

He never imagined things could line up this perfectly.

Never imagined that after everything—loss after loss, disappointment after disappointment—something so good, so magnetic, would land right in front of him.

Aligning everything. 

And stay.

You saw him.

You understood him in ways that no one else ever had. You didn’t flinch at the sharp edges, didn’t ask him to be softer or less guarded. You laughed at his dry, humorless jokes. Knew when to challenge him, when to let him be.

And the longer he lay there, the more it hit him:

You made him better.

Not by changing him.

But by showing him how to be—

How to trust, how to let himself breathe, how to love without the weight of past mistakes crushing him.

He swallowed, feeling it heavy in his chest.

You were his best friend.

His person.

His love.

The words sat so close to the surface he could hardly contain them.

And as if you sensed it, felt him turning them over in the dark, you shifted slightly against him—

Your hand tightening faintly on his chest, head nuzzling into his neck.

Your voice came out low, rough with sleep, but soft, “Aaron…why are you awake?”

He looked down, catching the faint outline of your face in the shadows.

The way you smiled at him—

Groggy, tender, like he was something precious.

That look.

The same one you always gave him when you caught him staring, trying to memorize this exact feeling.

He brushed his hand up to your cheek, thumb tracing along your temple.

For once, he didn’t hesitate.

“I was just thinking,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. 

You hummed softly in question, eyes still half-lidded, waiting.

He swallowed.

Felt the words lodge in his throat, thick and almost too big to say—but needing to be said all the same.

“You’re my best friend,” he finally said, voice low and sure. His hand cradled your face gently, as if he needed you to feel the weight of it.

You blinked at him, surprised, brow furrowed slightly like you didn’t quite understand what he meant—

Why it sounded so much more significant than it seemed.

He continued, his voice quieter but unwavering, “I love you. You know that. But it’s more than that.” His thumb brushed beneath your eye. “I’ve never met anyone who made me want to tell them everything. Who I wanted to know me—all of me. And you…you do. You know me. You handle me better than I know how to handle myself sometimes.”

You stared at him, eyes glassy, lips parted faintly, breath catching as he went on.

“I want to know everything about you. Every story, every thought you’ve never told anyone.” He swallowed, pulling you a little closer. “I never want to stop.”

There was something shining in your eyes now, even in the dim light. Something soft and stunned, but glowing.

“You make me a better person,” he whispered finally, voice almost breaking. “You’re my best friend.”

For a moment, the silence stretched—

Nothing but the sound of your breaths mingling in the dark.

Then you smiled.

So big, so full of something unspoken, eyes glassy but sure.

You leaned up, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was equal parts gentle and fierce. Like you wanted to pour all the words you couldn’t form right now into him.

When you pulled back, you gave him a lazy, flirtatious grin despite the emotion lingering behind it.

“Well…” your voice was thick, teasing but tender, “...how about we make use of that bed again, now that we’re a couple who shares absolutely everything?”

He laughed softly—really laughed—and let himself kiss you like he was holding the whole world in his hands.

Because maybe he was.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @Sweethotchlogy @softtdaisy

[multifandomgifss]

Criminal Minds 1.12 — What Fresh Hell?

measure not the work until the day's out and the labor done

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Can't Stand It, Backhanded

SSA Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Summary: Reader and Hotch have never gotten along. When they are paired together for a mission, things come unraveled.

CW: SMUT, soft dom!Hotch, flirt!reader, enemies to lovers, hate sex, car sex, degradation, choking, fingering, tit play, p in v, creampie

a/n: ugh, this gif of thomas gets me flustered every single time. i dont care how much older he is than me, i just need one night alone with him and its over

~~~

Silence. Looming heavily over the SUV you rode in. Staring forward, not daring to look over at your driver.

Aaron Hotchner. Your boss. Leader of your Team at the BAU. Stern and meticulous. Not the kind for joking or bending the rules. Doing what has to be done to solve a case.

Needless to say, the two of you did not exactly get along.

From the moment you had been brought onto the team, there was a certain disdain he had for you. Eyes constantly lasered into you. Tending to be short when he spoke to you. Not fond of the way you often flirted with your coworkers. Even though he did not say a word when Penelope and Derek did the same thing back and forth. Refusing to give you the same opportunities to show your worth that he gave the others.

Now here you were. Alone with him in the passenger seat of one of the FBI’s vehicles. Hushed as tension suffocated you. Hiding any noise that your body would normally make from fear of making things more uncomfortable. Being separated from the rest of your Team, placed in ‘strategic groups’ that Rossi had come up with. Neither of you were happy, but you had been the final two left at the end of David’s list.

Finally, you worked up the courage to look over at him. White knuckles gripped the steering wheel, one finger picking at the faux leather. Dark, oaky eyes met your glance. Lips pierced tightly together in annoyance.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you sighed, resting your cheek against your palm. Looking up at the passing stars of the night sky.

Recollecting the first time things had gotten awkward between you.

“I mean… yeah, he’s hot. But does he have to be such a hard ass all the time?” you joked with your hands tucked behind your head, sitting center of the bullpen with all your female teammates.

“Hot?!” Emily snorted out a laugh.

“Yes! He’s got that newly divorced dad look to him. Have you had your eyes checked, Em?”

“I think this one is just you, doll,” Penelope giggled, chewing on the tip of her pen.

All of you had congregated discussing some details of the new case. Derailing into a trivial discussion of fuck, marry, kill with your male teammates being the subjects.

“There has to be a reason he’s divorced, right? Haley wouldn’t have put up with it that long unless the sex was good,” you snickered.

“Oh, Jesus,” J.J. laughed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Look, I get it. Derek’s fine as hell, too. But Hotch is clearly the superior choice,” you gloated until you noticed how silent they all grew. Refusing to look in your general direction. A cold chill ran down your spine. Straightening your posture and turning slowly to look over your shoulder. Coughing as you faced him, cheeks heating up with pure embarrassment.

“Superior choice for what exactly?” His expression was rooted in anger. Knowing deep down he had overheard every single word. Testing you. Simply asking to see if you would slip up. Seeing if you were willing to lie to him. You swallowed the non-existent spit in your mouth.

“Oh! Sup-Superior choice as our Team Leader, of course. Since Strauss has been breathing down your neck and all, I was just saying— y’know that I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else, Hotch, sir,” you vomited out your excuse. Realizing how unintentionally condescending you sounded. Having a staring contest with him, taking a smile that hurt your cheeks to maintain.

“Get back to work,” Hotch stated dryly, walking off to his office.

Hotch had never looked at you the same since. Unlike his prior disdain, this one was deeply rooted in him. Making sure you knew it just by the way his eyes expressed when they saw you. Teeth bared anytime you would dare question his plans. Or even give a look that said you did not fully agree with the plan of action. He despised your very being, that’s how it seemed based off how he treated you. So when moments like this came up, you tried your hardest to ignore him and remain as professional as possible.

Your attention was back on him when he took a turn off the path. Going down into some pull-off area for travelers. Abandoned, or at least not properly kept up.

“Wh… What are we doing here?”

Hotch stayed silent, putting the SUV in park. Unbuckling and beginning to exit when you called out of him once again, “Hotch—?

“I have to take a piss. Do you want to come along question me on that too?” he growled at you. Hitting a nerve inside you that had been previously untouched. Slamming the door behind him. The nail in the coffin.

“What is your problem with me?”

Following behind him outside the vehicle. Stoic expression glanced towards you. Jaw locked and nostrils flared. Lips knitted tightly together as his eyes scanned down your figure. Noticing how your arms held onto one another. Knowing this was out of character for you. Willing to questions others, but hating confrontation. Eyes dark when they met yours once again.

“My problem with you?” a hint of mockery under his monotone voice.

“Yes! All I’ve ever wanted was to feel like a part of this team. I want to know why you’re so cold and cruel with me,” you gritted your teeth together, brows furrowed as you begged for an explanation.

“Get back inside.”

“No.”

“I am still your superior—“

“Then why don’t you act like it? You don’t like that I’m flirtatious? Reprimand me. You don’t like something I said? Tell me that. If I’m doing something that is upsetting you this badly, I need you to tell me. So I can fix it. I try so hard to please you, but I need you to tell me what you want. Or… just kick me off the team. Something— Anything—“

Suddenly his hands were wrapped around your wrists. Pinned to the side of the SUV you had arrived in. Arms bent beside your head, Hotch becoming nose-to-nose with you. Eyes flying open as your mouth ran dry. Throat tightening as you scanned his eyes for an answer to what was happening. Shaky breaths falling from you as your body panicked softly. Heart racing against your eardrums.

“You sure do have a funny way of trying to please me. Openly flirting with every single male coworker you have? Joking with your teammates about how much of a ‘hard ass’ I am? Making some stupid joke about my ex-wife? And then, you have the nerve to mock my authority? Sure doesn’t seem like it is one of your priorities,” Hotch breathed down your throat. Bruising strength holding your wrists. Eyebrows arched as he bared his teeth at you with each word.

Your eyebrows upturned as you tried to form a rebuttal.

“You are nothing but a constant buzz in my ear. A reminder that my leadership is nothing but a suggestion in your mind. Undermining me at every convenience. Can you not just accept that I am your boss. Your leader. Someone you are supposed to respect and obey," Hotch closed in on your face. Shoulders heaving with each deep breath he took.

You were frozen. Speechless. Throat tighter than it had ever been before. A soft shake to your hands. Glossy eyes looked around his face. Vein on his head poking out, skin pinched tightly between his brows.

"You were the best agent for the job. That is why I hired you. Perfect scores, perfect performance. Yet, you are nothing like your application would've suggested. More concerned with trivial nonsense. Like some idiotic game where you decide whether or not you would sleep with me. Or if I have some made-up problem with you," Hotch scoffed in your face. His breath hot as it fanned along your skin.

Lying to yourself about the way your insides quivered with his hands on you. Breathing rapidly as you held his gaze. Legs feeling like jelly as arousal pool between them. The smell of his aftershave mixing in not helping. His demanding, deep tone had your face flushed. You swallowed hard, refusing to speak. Scared to upset him further. Scared to disappoint him more than you had. Wanting nothing more than his approval.

"At least I made your list," Hotch smirked, voice sultry as his lips inched closer to yours.

"W-What?"

"That childish game all of you were playing. You said I was your choice, right?"

You shyly nodded. Confused by the sudden change in demeanor. Almost like he was teasing you now. Clearly aware of the effect he had on your body.

And then his lips were on yours. Hungry as they captured you in a feverish kiss. Melting into his front as he pressed his body into yours. Shocked by his straight-forwardness. Trailing his lips down to your throat. Teeth grazing against your pulse. Causing you to shiver with a soft sigh. Feeling how his mouth morphed into a grin. Doeing your eyes at him as he pulled away. Dark locks falling over his forehead.

"Get in the backseat," Hotch commanded. Hands fiddling with his tie as it grew suddenly tight around his throat.

Without hesitation, you obliged. Opening the door and crawling into the spacious backseat. Legs spread awkwardly as you back into the other side up against the door. Watching Hotch roll up his sleeves as his tie hung loosely around his collar. Closing the door behind him as he joined you. Anxiety pooling in your core as he crawled on top of you. Hand coming up to cup your cheek. Lips attaching to yours once more, somehow hungrier than before.

Your arms draped over his shoulders, hands splaying against his broad back. Lapping into your mouth as his hands roamed your body. Pinching your hardening nipple through the fabric on your chest. Aggressively undoing the buttons along your torso to give himself better access. Exploring the soft skin of your belly, creeping their way up to the clasp of your bra.

“Hotch—“

“Aaron,” he corrected, “I want you to call me Aaron.”

“Aaron,” it sounded sensual coming from you in this situation, “What are we doing?”

Silencing your question with another kiss. Hands guiding your back against the cold leather of the seats. His large chest hovering over you, tie tickling your exposed skin. Cups of your bra loosened when he undid the clasp. Being folded down by Hotch. Smirking at your already hardened nipples.

Your own hands ghosted up his torso. Pinching at the top button. Hotch’s hand quick to grab yours, squeezing tightly to stun it. Squeaking at his surprising strength. Opting to not fight him, liking him controlling the situation more.

“What are you doing?”

“I just wanted to feel you,” you admitted meekly. Trying to keep up your puppy dog eyes.

“Ask.”

“Aaron,” you breathed out, “May I?” Finger tips tapping along his button line. Pushing yourself up to kiss his throat. Featherlight pressure as you decorated him. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. Analyzing you.

Large palm rested against your throat. Pushing you flat against the seat once again. Gagging softly at the pressure. Eyes wide as they looked up at him. Fingers squeezed your pulse, “Go ahead and unbutton my shirt, sweetheart.”

You did as you were told. His hand never leaving your throat as you strained to reach each button. Heart racing against his fingers as you softly struggled to maintain breath. Making sure to play into his game, doing exactly as you were told. His shirt hung loosely at his sides, tie barely in tact as it dangled above you.

Hotch’s thumb grazed over your bottom lip, never leaving your throat. He leaned down and pressed his lips right below your ear, “Tell me if I hurt you, okay?” His soft side still deeply intertwined into him. Never wanting to harm you, even when you did disobey.

Having a soft spot for you, hence the constant irritation. Confused and frustrated when your eyes would meet his causing his chest to twist. When you wore a tighter pair of pants or a low cut shirt, his cock would throb between his legs. Wanting to call you into his office and ravage you. He liked you. That was the problem.

You nodded. Realizing this behavior was a tactic to get you submissive. Wanting to dominate and feel like he had full control over you. It turned him on.

“Can I— touch your chest?” you choked.

“See? I knew you would catch on,” Hotch mocked, leaning down and kissing your lips, “You may.”

Your hands flattened against his bare chest. Softly petting the dark hair that danced down his chest. Particularly drawn to the bit of happy trail directly above his belt buckle. Fingertips daring to dip below the waistband. Earning a muffled groan from Hotch.

“Watch it,” he reprimanded, voice husky and dark.

Hotch's hands undid your zipper, lifting your waist and pulling your pants down your legs. Leaning back and releasing one leg fully, fabric pooling at the bottom of your other. Large, muscular hands felt up your thighs. Staring intently at your thin, lacy panties. Noting that the fabric matched your bra. Feeling overtly exposed before your leader. Breasts on full display along with your soaking core being hidden away by the night sky.

Large finger sliding up your clothed slit, brows jumping in surprise. "You're already so wet," Hotch grinned, smugness on his expression, "Do I really turn you on that much, Agent?"

A sharp breath escaped your lungs as his lips hovered over your chest. Words hot as they cascaded down your nudity. Using your title as a way of toying with you. Knowing it would resonate between your legs.

"Mmhmp," you mumbled as his lips attached to your nipple. Licking and sucking the bud, one of his hands circling your entrance. Pushing the soft fabric into your hole, soaking it further with your arousal. Moaning and squirming below him. Knot tightening in your lower stomach. Eyes squinted shut as your nails dug into his back. Muscles tight against your scratches.

Hotch pushed your panties to the side, sliding two fingers into your cunt. You called out to him loudly, walls clinching around him at the sudden entry. Back arching into his touch. Curling his thick digits against your spongy insides. A certain cockiness overtook his brow, perfect teeth reflecting the moonlight through the mostly tinted window.

"Such a whore. Letting me finger fuck you while we're on a case. What would all our friends say?" his voice was barely above a whisper. Taken over by his own lust for you. Breathing heavier when he felt his cock pulse between his legs.

A pathetic whimper was all you could give him in return.

God, he knew how to use his fingers. Coaxing you to your orgasm faster than ever before. Walls sputtering as if asking him permission. The voice in the back of your mind telling you to ask him. Knowing there was a good chance he would be angry if you gave in without him telling you.

"Aaron—"

"You better not. Not until I say you can. You hear me? Be a good girl and wait for me," Hotch growled, quickening his fingers inside you. Thumb circling your clit perfectly. You whined and tried to buck away from his touch. If things kept up, you would not be able to control yourself. Focusing all your efforts into not coming undone. Looking up and catching his eyes, sweat beamed down his brow. Breathing heavily as his fingers caressed your walls.

Your breath quickened. Breasts shaking as your lungs fought for air. Hotch could tell how close you were. Desperately wanting to make you scream his name, but knowing he only had time to get one out of you before the Team would get worried. Needing it to be around his cock.

So he stopped. Removing his fingers from you faster than they had entered. Eliciting a whine of discomfort from you. Unhappy eyes pleading up at him as your mouth hung open. Panting like a dog. Weak hands reaching out for him momentarily, falling flat at your sides. You pouted with glossy eyes.

Hotch palmed himself through his pants as he stared down at your worked body. Swearing he had never seen you so beautiful. Longing for his touch to satisfy you. Quickly undoing his belt and freeing his aching member. Curving up toward his stomach as the tip leaked. Swollen and twitching. Thicker than you had imagined. You gawked at his length. Feeling how your body instinctively wanted to touch it.

You reached forward, Hotch stopped your hand. Brow quirked up as he looked down on you, "What's the rule?"

"Please, Aaron. I need it," you sounded pathetic. Craving his dick shoved deep inside you, but also curious of how it would feel in your hand. Wanting to see Hotch's face as you stroked him.

Your hooded eyes and soft frown broke his heart. Facade of dominance and control faltering for a moment. Never imagining a woman who was so strong in the field would be a whining, begging mess when he would touch her. Happily surprised.

"You want to touch it that bad?"

You shyly nodded.

His mouth curved, "Touch me."

You did as you were told. Wrapping your hand around his length. Biting your lip when it twitched against your touch. Smiling as his pre-cum beaded when you stroked up. Velvety skin bunching with each pump. Hotch's breath came out broken. Not having had someone else's hand on him in some time. Loving how perfectly your fingers gripped him. Not able to wait much longer.

Hotch leaned down to your level, pulling his cock away from your hand. Holding himself by the base and lining it up with your entrance. Pushing just the tip in first. Scanning your face for a reaction. Your eyes practically rolled back in your head, "Fuck, Aaron."

"Dirty mouth," he kissed your lips, sheathing himself fully inside you. You huffed and moaned when you felt his balls smack against your skin. Rhythm fast and hard in and out of you. Sloppy sounds filling the SUV.

"Y'r pussy's so tight," his voice came out strained. Calling out his name like a prayer over and over. Hotch took one of your hands in his, intertwining fingers with you above your head. More intimate than you had imagined he would be. Chest fluttering at the action.

A low buzz alerted you.

"A-Aaron," you whimpered, still drunk on his cock, "Your ph-phone."

Hotch glanced over at the middle console. Small screen on his phone illuminating the space. Grabbing it with his free hand. Pressing his finger to his lips before cupping his hand over your mouth. Shoving two fingers deep in your throat. Gagging silently around them.

"Hotch? Where are you guys?" Derek's voice could be heard from the small speaker of the flip-phone in his hand. Hotch rolled his hips into you once more as he spoke, "We blew a tire out on the drive up. Had to stop and get it patched."

Your eyes doed up at him. Gargling around his digits.

"Are you both okay?"

"Yes. We will be there soon, just go ahead and do things according to Rossi's plan," Hotch smirked down at you, his apathetic tone never fading even when he was balls deep inside you. Clicking off the phone and throwing it into the front seat. Pulling his fingers from your mouth. Admiring the way they glistened, placing them on your clit. Circling the aching nub. Coaxing a loud moan from you.

"If I had known you would sound this pretty with my dick in you, I would've fucked you already," Hotch cooed, teasing as he smirked.

"It's so good, Aaron," you whined, drunk on his cock.

"Then cum on it," Hotch's voiced dropped an octave. Eyes dark as they scanned over your body. Watching the way your thighs twitched and shivered. How hard your nipples still were. And how you tried so hard to hold eye contact with him.

You were under his control. Only his. The rest of the world disappeared from you both. High on bliss that both your bodies gave one another. Your stomach tightened. Knot so firm it was going to burst. Walls locking up as you held your breath.

"Aaron, can I?"

He chuckled in response. Cynical and humiliating. Unable to believe you still played by the rules when you were this fucked.

"Yes, sweetheart," Hotch tightened his grip on your hand.

His soft tone pushed you over the edge. Writhing below him as you convulsed around his thick cock. Sucking him further into you. Insides trying to get him to fill you up. You whined and moaned and squeaked. Hotch's name a repetitive gargle of noises. He never ceased his hips as they snapped into yours. Riding and prolonging the waves of orgasm throughout your cunt. Feeling himself approaching his own end.

"Can I cum in you?"

"Please."

A few more thrusts and his hips were flush with yours. Coating your sensitive walls with his seed. Sputtering his hips trying to keep giving you every last drop. Aftershock still present on you as you clinched each time he moved. Hotch remained inside you for a moment. Savoring how you felt now around his softening member. Infatuated by the way your skin shined with sweat.

Hotch pulled himself slowly out. The loss stinging. His lips were tender on yours now, his hand putting your panties back in place. Kissing you more romantically than he had all night. Soft, caring side of him showing now. His hand softly guided through your hair, petting you. His other still laced in your own.

You blinked your eyes open. Jaw still hung as you gasped. Smiling up at Hotch. Unsure of how you got in this situation, but not caring either. Happy to feel his weight on top of you. Musky smell filling the vehicle. He rested his head on your chest. Listening to your rapid heartbeat.

Your own phone buzzing in your pant pocket breaking you both away from your slice of heaven. A final kiss planting itself on your lips as Hotch helped you get redressed. Checking each other out to make sure you both looked the same as you had before. Both your cheeks glowing for one another.

You held Hotch's hand the rest of the silent car ride. Tension no longer in the air.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! Big fan of Hotch fucking on the clock because realistically he never would. BUT IMAGINE IF HE DID. Guess I imagined for us both *wink*. As always, if you want to be tagged in any future works, please let me know! Reblogs and Comments appreciated! //

{tags}

@pastelpinkflowerlife ~ @bondwithme-murderstyle ~ @megangovier ~ @bau-tiful ~ @cherriready ~ @mrs-ssa-hotch ~ @hoffmanfan13 ~ @justyourusualash ~ @boybandbaby ~ @zaddyhotch ~ @bookworm-in-disguise ~ @sxlverx ~ @upsidedownbunnyy ~ @maesmayhem ~ @risenqueen1521 ~ @bernelflo ~ @i-betyouthink-about-me ~ @itsneverlupus2 ~ @blackgoddessworld ~ @frankiethedarkangel ~ @joywolf56 ~ @midnghtprentiss ~ @1mjustagirl ~ @donttrustlove ~ @queenofvelaris ~ @sweetbearcolorgarden ~

[shelbgrey]

hi hi! I just saw that you said you’d start writing for Hotch (he’s such hot dad/ boss material right?!) anyways could I request a Hotch x new reader where she’s the newest member of the team and he’s very protective. Everyone thinks it’s just because she’s new & younger but it’s actually because he really wants her even though he’s her boss. (But that just makes it hotter honestly.) I hope that’s okay & not too vague!

In the name of love(Aaron Hotchner)

Paring: Aaron Hotchner x Reid!Reader

Summary: (based on season 4, episode 1) Hotch has always been protective of y/n, but always played it off that was she was newer to the bau then when that excuse expired it turned into the fact they're best friends. They danced around their feelinga until an act of sudden death entered their lives.

A/n: I kinda had to chang the plot a tiny bit, I hope you like it 😅

MasterList ML2

Ever since Spencer Reid's older sister ditched the medical life to join the BAU to was inevitable she'd become an important part of the team. The BAU is used to the gruesome cases and dead bodies, working in the medical field this didn't bother y/n. It was obvious they were such a close team and it didn't take long for y/n to fit in. In the beginning she wasn't seen as a Rookie, but someone they'd quickly take a bullet for. They were the type of family that would take a bullet for one another. Aaron Hotchner, her unit chief, is someone who would take a bullet for her without a second thought, even if he didn't realize how much she truly meant to him.

The team, especially Derek and aside from Spencer would give him crap for how protective he was. Derek saw right through it and with Rossi Intoe they'd joke and push Aaron to make a move. Spencer on the other hand was clueless to it all. And on top of that y/n would just follow orders, especially in the beginning. But she wasn't stupid, she caught onto his over protectiveness and honestly she loved it. She never had someone care that much about her safety. She was always the one protecting Spencer and taking care of their mother. This time she had someone taking care of her, deep down it scared her because it was such a new feeling, but she got used to it. Especially when she started considering Aaron her best friend.

Months passed and she wasn't new anymore, but Aaron was still protective. His over protectiveness followed them into New York for a case. Their case was about people who apparently have nothing in common and are being shot randomly in New York City. The team didn't know if it was a single person or a team. Of course, under Aaron's orders, y/n spent most of the case inside with JJ and away from flying bullets. To the dismay of Aaron Hotchner, he learned quickly he couldn't protect her from everything. No matter how hard he tried.

That night Aaron offered to take y/n back to the hotel like usual. Like usual she agreed. Both of them were unaware of the trap that was set under that SUV. They were just a couple of feet away from the SUV when the bomb the unsub planted exploded, shooting them across the street. Y/n landed the farthest away. She layed on the road in pain.

“Aaron!” she cried out, holding her side.

The impact of the blast knocked Aaron to the ground, his ears ringing from the sound. He groaned as he slowly got to his feet, pain shooting through his body from the fall. “y/n!” He managed to say, his head spinning.

He looked around, panic starting to set in when he saw her lying on the ground. He rushed over to her, stumbling as he moved as quickly as he could. Aaron knelt down beside you, his eyes widening when he saw the blood. He carefully pushed your hand away, his touch gentle as he examined the wound.

“I think I'm bleeding” y/n gasped softly, disoriented. She grabbed the side of her stomach, feeling a pool of blood, leaking over both of their hands.

“It's bad” He mumbled, trying to keep his voice steady. His heart was racing, fear and worry written all over his face. He could see she was barely conscious.

Y/n winced when he put more pressure on the gash on her body, both of their hands were getting reader, soaking in blood. “God dammit” she gasped softly.

Aaron cursed under his breath, the sight of the blood making him feel sick. He continued to apply pressure to the wound, trying to stem the flow as best he could. “Just, just stay with me, okay? You're going to be alright” He said, trying to sound reassuring but failing miserably.

He knew that help wasn't going to come anytime soon and that he had to do what he could to keep her alive.

“Explosions are a lot cooler in movies than they are in real life,” y/n winced. She talked a lot when she was nervous. She was nervous plus getting light headed. “Aaron, that idiot exploded the car”

Aaron agreed, focusing on keeping pressure on her wound. He could see that she was getting lightheaded and knew that time was running out. “Try to stay awake, okay? You've lost a lot of blood” He said, his voice cracking with fear.

“God dammit, why did it have to be in New York?,” y/n was losing consciousness, not really understanding what she was saying now. “I don't want to die in freaking New York”

Aaron’s grip on her hand got tighter. He was trying to keep his composure but the panic inside him was growing. “You're not going to die, you hear me? You're not. You're going to be fine” He said, his voice shaking as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. The thought of her not making it through this was unbearable, he couldn't lose her.

--------(flashback)--------

“You know there's a difference between being protective and just plain benching the poor girl” Rossi said.

“You saw what happened, when that bastard kidnapped Reid and her, ” Aaron said flatly, thinking about the unsub(who had split personalities) had her and Spencer. “I'm not risking that again”

“Ever since that day you haven't even considered the idea that she knows how to take care of herself” Rossi said seriously and quietly.

“I know she can, but that doesn't mean I'm not gonna have her back”

--------(end of flashback)--------

“New York is gross and loud,” y/n said softly and breathlessly. She was getting disoriented. She gulped as she gripped the hand he had on her gash. Both of their hands were nothing but red with blood now. “why can't we have an unsub in Tennessee or s-something” To y/n there was only one reason to go to Tennessee, Memphis specifically and the only reason to go there was Graceland and all Elvis stuff.

Aaron chuckled softly, despite the situation the both of them were in. “Yeah, you've always hated New York,” He said, recalling all the times she had complained about the city. His eyes flicked to their bloody hands. The sight was a stark reminder of just how dire the situation was. “And we don't get all the crazy cases. Plus, you'd go out of your mind for all the Elvis stuff in Memphis”

Y/n tried to laugh, but ended up just letting out a painful cough. “yeah, P-probably couldn't be trusted to n-not w-wonder off” she winced, trying to stay focused but she just got dizzier.

Aaron noticed her struggling to stay focused and he tightened his grip on her hand, trying to keep her grounded. “That's an understatement. You'd be going to Graceland every day like a kid in a candy store” He said, trying to distract her from the severity of the situation. He could see that she was getting weaker by the minute.

“I never actually got to go. D-didn't,” she winced, losing blood. “didn't have the money as a k-kid, Now with the job I don't have e-enough time” she shuddered, her vision getting blurry.

Aaron's grip on your hand tightened. “We'll go. When we get out of here, I'll take you to Graceland. We'll go as many times as you want” He said, his voice determined. He knew that she was fading and that she needed to stay awake.

“It's okay. We just have to wait for the others to get here” He said, his voice shaky and unsure.

“N-no, they C-can't see this,” Tears pricked her eyes as she fades in and out. “Spencer C-can't see it. He can't lose someone else” she shivered, not wanting her little brother Spencer seeing her die.

Aaron winced at her mention of Spencer. He knew how close the two of them were and how much it would hurt Spencer to see her like this. “He's not going to lose you. You're going to be fine” He repeated, trying to reassure himself as much as her. He could see the tears in her eyes and he felt helpless, knowing that there was nothing he could do except keep pressure on her wound and wait for help.

“At least if I kick the bucket now we won't have to worry about him seeing me getting all old and schizophrenic like our mom”

Aaron shook his head, refusing to even entertain the thought of losing you. He couldn't bear the idea of her giving up. “Don't talk like that. You're not going to die, you hear me? You're going to be fine” He said, his voice more firm than before. He could feel her grip on his hand loosening and it terrified him.

“A-Aaron”

Aaron looked at her, his eyes meeting her hazy ones. His heart was racing, fear making it difficult for him to think straight. “Yeah?”

“I N-need to tell y-you something, I can't take it to my grave”

Aaron's grip on her hand tightened and he nodded, his expression serious. “No, you're gonna tell me when you're safe and sound”

he didn't want whatever y/n was about to tell him, he didn't want it to be something she felt like she had to say because she thought she was about to die. He wanted to hear it when she was out of danger, even if it was just to give him peace of mind.

“Aaron” y/n sighed.

Aaron looked at her, his expression full of concern and worry. He could see that she had something important to say and he braced himself for what was coming next.

“I love you,” y/n said softly. “I never expected to fall in L-love with you, b-but I did” she winced as hers and Aaron's hand put more pressure on the gash on her stomach.

Aaron's heart skipped a beat as he heard her confession. He was taken aback, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. He had always felt something for her, something that went beyond friendship and the protection he felt for her, but he had never let himself entertain the idea that it could be something more

But at that moment, with her life hanging in the balance, he couldn't deny it any longer. He realized that he felt the same way, that he loved her with every fiber of his being.

“I'm sorry. I loved you since the day we met” when they met he was married and made y/n feel awful to some degree. He was divorced now, but it still felt weird to confess. But if she was gonna die he needed to know.

Aaron felt a lump form in his throat as y/n confessed that she had loved him since the day they met. It was like a punch to the gut, knowing that all this time she had been carrying those feelings for him. He felt guilty for not seeing it sooner, for being blinded by his own feelings and for what happened months ago. “Why didn't you say anything?” he managed to say, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I think we can make a long list about why I didn't say anything” y/n mumbled.

Aaron chuckled weakly, knowing that she was right. There were a thousand reasons why y/n hadn't said anything, all of them valid and understandable. “guess we could” He said, his mind racing as he processed everything she had just said. He still had a million questions, but they would have to wait until later. Right now, his only concern was keeping her alive until help arrived.

“If, If something does happen. If I die, tell Spencer I'm sorry. That I'm proud of him”

Aaron shook his head, refusing to even entertain the thought of her dying. He couldn't lose her, not now, not after everything that had happened. “You're not going to die. You're going to be fine. You're going to make it through this” He said, his voice firm and determined, but there was a hint of desperation in it. He was desperate to keep y/n alive, to keep her with him.

Just then, in the distance, he heard sirens. Help was finally coming. He looked down at y/n, his eyes hopeful. “See? Help's here. You're gonna be alright”

Y/n nodded softly, barely keeping focused. Aaron's grip on her hand was so tight it was probably hurting her. He was terrified of losing her, of letting go. Finally, the medics arrived and took over for him, gently prying his hand away from hers.

He felt helpless as he watched them load y/n onto a stretcher and into the ambulance, his heart racing with worry. He followed her into the ambulance as she lost consciousness.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

It was a long night for Aaron. He paced around the hospital waiting room, his eyes glued to the clock. Every tick of the seconds felt like an eternity. He was desperate for news, anything to tell him that y/n was okay.

“Pacing around isn't gonna help” Rossi said softly.

“I really don't want to hear it, Dave” Aaron sighed, as he sat down next to him.

Aaron sighed, slumping down next to Rossi. He rubbed his hands together and his knee was bouncing up and down nervously. He could hear the faint ringing in his ear from the explosion, meaning the adrenaline he was feeling was dying down and he could feel the damage that was done to him.

“You should get checked out” Rossi said softly, looking at the cuts on Aaron's face and the red stains on his hands.

“I'm fine”

“Y/n won't be out of surgery for another few hours” Rossi said softly. “you've protected her enough for the night, take care of yourself”

“I found out tonight I can't protect her from everything”

“It's pretty much impossible, but that doesn't make you any less of a good person” Rossi reassured to which Aaron stared off in the distance and nodded.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

Later that night y/n woke up from surgery. She winced softly, making Spencer and Aaron both jump to her side. Y/n opened her eye and smiled slightly when it clicked Arron and Spencer were there with her. She swallowed. “Did you get the unsub? Y/n asked in a soft, weak tone.

Aaron's eyes are red from lack of sleep and from worrying about her, while Spencer looks exhausted but relieved to see that she was awake. “Yeah, we got him. Morgan found him and got em” Aaron said, his voice filled with exhaustion. He lets out a sigh, feeling a weight lifted off of his shoulders.

Y/n nodded as Spencer reached out and gently took her hand, she could see in his eyes how terrified he had been. Then he started crying in relief and worry.

Y/n gave him a weak, sympathetic smile. “Come on, don't cry, I'm okay”

Spencer tries to stop himself from crying, but he can't help it. He's been worrying about y/n for hours and now that he knows she's okay, the floodgates have opened. “I can't help it. I was so worried about you” He managed to say through his tears.

“I'm okay” y/n repeated.

Spencer nods, trying to compose himself, but he's still crying softly. He's just so relieved that y/n was okay and that she was awake.

Meanwhile, Aaron is standing next to him. His expression is a mix of relief, exhaustion, and something else. There's a intensity in his eyes as he looks at y/n, like he has something he needs to say.

Aaron takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair, clearly struggling with what he's about to say. “Can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?”

Y/n nodded softly as Spencer looks reluctant to leave, but he also knew that she and Aaron needed to talk. He gets up from his chair and leaves the room, giving her a worried look before closing the door behind him.

It's just y/n and Aaron now. He stands there, staring at her, taking in every detail of her face.

“Always so serious” y/n said, giving him a weak grin.

Aaron let out a small chuckle, his expression softening. “Yeah, I have to be. I'm the unit chief, remember?” He took a step closer to the bed, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said softly, clearing her throat. “I know”

*He smiled warmly at y/n, glad to see some color returning to her cheeks. “You had me worried, you know that?”

“I know” y/n said softly, clearing her throat gently. It was still dry and rough from the surgery.

Aaron could see the discomfort on her face and he wished he could make it go away. “Are you thirsty? I can get you some water”

“N-no, I don't want you to go away”

He shakes his head, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here”

He takes the seat to y/n’s side once more and gently grabs her hand, his thumb running circles over her knuckles, making her smile weakly. He can feel the weight of everything that happened finally lifting off of his shoulders. Y/n was going to be okay and that was all that mattered.

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. “There's, there's something I need to tell you”

Y/n nodded softly and he hesitated for a moment, struggling to find the right words. He had been thinking about what to say all night, but now that the moment was here, he found himself tongue-tied. “I just, I need you to know that I-”

“You don't have to say anything” y/n said softly, shaking her head. “I shouldn't have brought it up in a moment like that”

Aaron shakes his head, cutting her off. “No, I do. I need to say this,” He takes a deep breath, looking y/n directly in the eyes. “I love you”

“I love you,” she smiled weakly. “I'd be more spontaneous and maybe even try to jump your bones, but I'm so high on pain meds and I feel like an elephant is sitting on me all at the same time”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head at her attempt to lighten the mood. His grip on her hand tightened, his expression growing serious again. “You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

Y/n smiled softly and Aaron shook his head, his expression softening. “But seriously, you scared the hell out of me. Don't ever do something like that again, you hear me?”

“I hear ya”

He was quiet for a moment, just looking into y/n’s eyes. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to do, but he knew that she wasn't in any condition for that right now. “Get some rest, okay? I'll stay right here”

[wardengrill]

hotch only knew 5 minutes of peace in his entire life and it was when morgan and reid were stuck in that elevator (x)

[multifandomgifss]

Criminal Minds 1.16 — The Tribe

CRIMINAL MINDS 1.16 — "The Tribe"

[vivienvalentino]

CRIMINAL MINDS — 7.21, Divining Rod

[honeypiehotchner]

Juno (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Hello again! This goes from zero to 100 in two seconds flat don't @ me!! Sabrina's new album came out and reawakened something in me (everyone say thank you Sabrina) (also this is not beta'd I wrote this in a short n' sweet haze)

Summary: Aaron is working from home but what paperwork he needs to do is the absolute last thing on your mind.

Warnings: smut! 18+ only! this is so filthy! in no particular order: multiple orgasms, cockwarming, choking, brat tendencies, stoplight system, unprotected sex, breeding kink (briefly), face fucking, overstimulation

WC: like 3,400 I lost my damn mind clearly

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you. Blame it on period hormones (probably) or the fact that Aaron looks absolutely delicious right now in his tight black t-shirt (most likely), but you’re going to go insane if either of you have clothes on for another five minutes. 

The problem is, Aaron is trying to focus. It’s one of his days where he works from home, an idea you gave him when you realized how easy it would be for him to do the same paperwork just from the comfort of your living room. It was a brilliant idea at first. You got to see him more, and were able to do your own thing around the house while he did his work. You got to have lunch together, and offer a genuine mental break in between his mountain of paperwork. 

Now, though, you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck about whatever needs to be signed, who needs to clear what, and what phone calls he still needs to make. 

“Honey,” you call sweetly from the kitchen. You watch him from over the island, your thoughts going all sorts of ways -- namely, deep into the gutter. “Want to break for lunch?”

You see Aaron shake his head, still typing furiously on his laptop. “It’s not even noon yet.”

“Brunch?” you try again, walking out of the kitchen. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest in the way you know he loves because of the view it gives him of your cleavage. And you’re wearing a v-neck shirt today for that exact reason, too.

Aaron still doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry honey, maybe in an hour?”

You let out a huff that you know he hears because he finally looks up, eyebrows raised just so. It’s a look that you love. Curious, veering toward that playful annoyance that you can’t seem to go a few hours without his undivided attention. 

Which, you can, by the way. You’re more than capable. It’s just that right now, it’s a crime that his eyes have been looking at paperwork when they should be looking at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and there’s some hesitation in his voice. You know he’s assuming the worst. That you’re not okay mentally, and that’s why you need him to take his lunch break now or maybe for the rest of the day. He’s done it before on your darker days.

But you’re okay. You’re perfectly fine. You’d just be even better if he put the damn laptop away and put his fingers to use somewhere else.

Which is exactly why you come to a stop in front of him and reach forward, tilting his screen down and down until it closes. He lets you.

He lets you take his laptop and put it on the table beside the couch. He watches you, his fiery brown eyes taking in every second. He lets you straddle his hips, your arms circling his neck.

“I see now,” he smirks, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist and squeezing lovingly. “By ‘lunch break’ you mean…”

“Put a baby in me,” you blurt, rocking your hips against his.

He stills, his hands making you stop your movements, too. His eyes are darker now in a way you haven’t seen in a while. “What?”

“Please,” you say, leaning your forehead down onto his, trying to move your hips again. “Need you.”

“Honey, we can’t have--”

“Yes I know the semantics, Aaron,” you mutter, now annoyed and lifting your head to glare at him. He has a vasectomy, you get that. “I mean fuck me like you’re putting a baby in me.”

His hands squeeze again. “I see.”

You frown. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not,” he smirks, one hand leaving your waist to stroke your cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re horny.”

You roll your eyes, peeling yourself off his lap. He lets you go, albeit with a curious look. You turn and head for the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he calls out after you, still with that damn smirk lacing his words.

“To get myself off,” you reply in a deadpan. “Since someone--”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence before Aaron is right behind you, hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him. That look full of fire is back again, stern this time.

“Did I say you could do that?” he says in a low tone.

“Did I ask?” you retort, backing out of his grasp and darting into the bedroom. 

Now there’s a smirk on your lips. It’s quickly approaching shit-eating grin territory, which you know will only egg Aaron on further. This little game of cat and mouse happens to be your favorite, and he knows it.

You’re barely two steps into the bedroom when Aaron is attached to your back yet again, this time wrapping his arms around your waist, locking you in.

“Color?” he whispers, his lips right at your ear, sending shivers straight down your spine.

You groan. “Green. Neon green. So green, I need you to--”

He spins you again, this time backing you into the wall and attacking your lips. Finally, you think, though you know you’re in for it now. The thought has a grin crawling up your lips, and you’re unable to stop it.

“What’s so funny, hm?” he scolds, moving his lips to your neck instead, to the exact spot he knows makes you weak in the knees. Like clockwork, he has to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you upright, your knees buckling when he bites down just so.

“Nothing,” you manage through a moan, tipping your head back onto the wall. “Shit.”

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, you know,” he says, but he’s smiling against your skin. “Can’t let me focus on work because you need me to fuck you.”

“In my defense,” you try, your hands scrambling for his shoulders, for something to ground you. “You didn’t fuck me this morning.”

“I fucked you last night,” he reminds you, as if you needed the reminder. It’s the reason you slept so soundly. “Was that not enough?”

You can’t help it; you laugh. 

He lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. The same question as before on his lips.

“Sorry, I thought you were joking,” you say. 

“You’re insatiable.” 

“Guilty,” you grin, grabbing his face and pulling him back in for another kiss.

You make out against the wall for too long like two teenagers behind the bleachers at school. You hook one leg around his hips, pulling him in and grinding against his obvious erection. It’s enough to have him groaning into your mouth, pressing you against the wall with renowned vigor. 

You can feel how wet you’re becoming and fuck, neither of you have even taken a single article of clothing off yet.

Aaron notices, one hand traveling south without you paying attention, too busy relishing the way he licks into your mouth, stealing your every breath. The kissing becomes increasingly sloppy when he works his hand into your leggings, under the waistband of your underwear, and into you.

“Oh my god,” your back arches against the wall, pushing his fingers deeper. He doesn’t bother with one, starting right away with two, curling them when you grind harder.

“You’re soaking my hand,” he practically growls into the next kiss, adding a third finger after only a few thrusts. Your body accepts it willingly, always ready for him. “Jesus.”

“More,” you gasp, pushing him deeper. “Aaron, more, I’m serious--” Your words break off as he scissors his fingers, making your eyes roll back instantly.

“I can feel you already,” he smirks against your cheek, pressing a kiss there, an action so sweet and gentle compared to what the rest of him is doing. “Come on, honey. You’re cumming as many times as you want.”

That makes you inch closer to the edge at a frightening speed. He says you can cum as many times as you want, but what he means is he’s going to force as many orgasms out of you as he can. Until you tell him to stop or he decides you need a break. 

The thought of being an overstimulated mess in his embrace later has you climaxing against his fingers, your head falling onto his shoulder as his movements never cease, milking every last wave out of you. 

You lift your head in search of his lips again, which he willingly gives to you, his fingers slowing to soothing strokes as you whimper into his mouth. You’ve only had one orgasm and you already feel ruined. He can tell the way you tremble against him, so he checks in once more.

“Green?” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You nod. “Green. You?”

He smirks. “Absolutely.”

He picks you up into his arms, inelegantly tossing you onto the bed behind you. You giggle as you bounce on the mattress, tugging your shirt over your head as he does the same to his. His hands move for his belt and you practically jump to the end of the bed, swatting his hands away.

“Since when is that your job?” you frown up at him, unbuckling his belt without looking.

He laughs, petting your head gently. “So sorry, you’re right.”

“What was that?” you tease. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you smirk, pulling his belt out of the loops and tossing it somewhere. You don’t wait for him to reply before you unbutton his jeans, yanking them down with his boxers.

There’s just something about his dick. You hate that you love it, or maybe you don’t hate it at all. All you know is you need it in your mouth right now.

So, you do that, without any warning. Aaron thrusts forward into your mouth on pure instinct, not expecting you to wrap your lips around him so soon. You slide down the edge of the bed onto your knees, pulling him back to you by his thighs. 

You take your time, pushing his jeans and boxers down further. When you pull back for air, he steps out of them and kicks them elsewhere, returning to you quickly, knowing better than to keep you waiting. 

You swallow him down again, moaning around him in the way you know he loves. It takes all of two seconds before he gently holds the back of your head, asking silently for permission that you were already about to grant. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes as you squeeze his thigh twice. Go ahead.

The thing about Aaron fucking your face is that it took a while for him to do it as hard as you really wanted. He’s always so gentle, a quality that drew you to him initially. You love how gentle he can be. But you love it equally as much when he is rougher with you.

Like now, when he has you pinned against the bed, one hand on the back of your head as he fucks into your throat. It’s blissful, quite frankly, the way he feels, and you thank the universe every time for your lack of a gag reflex. 

He holds you there with a deep groan, and you feel him twitch in your throat once before he pulls you off entirely. You frown up at him, once again not getting what you wanted, but he doesn’t have any time for that.

He picks you up by your armpits, hauling you back onto the bed. Your leggings and underwear are gone in a single second, along with your bra. He’s crawling up your body and crowding your space before you have a second to protest that he wasn’t down your throat for near as long as you wanted him to be. 

All frustrations leave your mind the second he pushes inside of you, immediately sliding home, his hips flush against yours. 

It’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, the way he hits you so deep. Another thing it took him a while to be comfortable doing.

He’s not average sized by any means, and you’re the first to admit it made you salivate the first time you saw. The first time he fed himself into you and worried that he was hurting you, meanwhile you were clawing his back because you wanted more. It hurt for a moment, only an uncomfortable pressure because he was bigger than your vibrator, but as soon as you were used to the size of him, you wanted all of him.

He stays there, deep in you without moving for a moment, grinding against you. His lips attack yours again before he pauses to lean his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath.

“You drive me crazy,” he says on a shaky exhale.

You wrap your legs around him, thrusting your hips up to take him a little more. His hips stutter, pushing in the way you wanted him to, the way you know you can make him do involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he bites out, turning his attention to your neck again.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging. “Exactly. So why aren’t you moving?”

He nips at your neck. “Because if I move, I will cum right away.”

“Who said I only want you to cum inside me once?”

He groans again, fingers digging into your hips as you circle them, though he doesn’t try to stop you. “Greedy” is all he says, but he finally moves.

The thrusts are slow at first, Aaron clearly trying to pace himself. You can’t say you’re doing the same, already chasing your second high as he slams his hips into yours. Your hand reaches down to rub your clit, but is promptly smacked away by Aaron’s hand as he glares at you.

“Since when is that your job?” he echoes you from earlier, only this time, there’s more heat to it. He grabs both of your wrists, pinning them above your head to stop any other temptation. “Not this time.”

His thrusts pick up speed and depth, his body moving against yours in the exact way that makes you fall apart. It’s not often that he doesn’t let you cum from added clit stimulation -- not that you can’t without it; it just makes the high feel that much better -- but sometimes he does. It’s an ego trip for him as much as it is for you.

It also adds an unpredictable nature to it, which is why your second orgasm takes you by such surprise. You seize against him, your hands doing all sorts of squirming to try to break free of his grasp, but he doesn’t let you, and he doesn’t let up. You don’t realize why until you feel the warmth spreading into you as he reaches his own peak. 

You’ve clearly worked him up as much as you worked yourself up because his thrusts barely slow down, and he doesn’t soften inside of you. 

Instead, he pulls out only to flip you on your side, sliding in behind you and pulling your leg up and back over his hips. The action causes some of his cum to spill out of you, but you don’t have any time to focus on that before he fucks back into you. 

You’ve ceased to have any coherent thoughts as Aaron whispers dirty nothings into your ear, one arm wrapped around your body to keep you pinned against him. The pleasure doesn’t stop and at one point, you question if your second orgasm stopped at all or if it has continued this entire time.

Aaron reaches underneath the pillow where he knows he’ll find one of your vibrators because he heard you using it this morning. No, he didn’t fuck you this morning, but you fucked yourself, and truly, at 8am, he should’ve known you’d end up like this by eleven. 

Your mind doesn’t register what the sound means until the vibrator is pressed against your clit. Your body jerks, scrambling for some grounding, your hands finding it in wrapping them around his arm. 

He switches hands on the vibrator, so one hand is free to wrap around your throat. Your eyes roll back as soon as you feel the gentle pressure, your body practically going limp against him. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs directly into your ear, his thrusts slowing to deep strokes. “You’ve got a couple more in you.”

“A couple?” is all you manage to say, your hand squeezing his wrist so he knows to squeeze your throat a little more.

“Mhm,” his voice rumbles in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. “Is it too much?” His question is laced with just the right amount of pity that makes you shake your head against him. “I thought so,” he replies, switching the vibrator to a higher setting.

It sends you into your third orgasm instantly, squirming violently against him as he pushes into you deeper. He knows how much you love that, and loves how much you squeeze around him as he slides inside, fighting against your muscles that threaten to force him out. You’ve done it before, a mesmerized look on his face and yours when you both realized what happened. Since then, you told him you liked it more when he fought to stay inside. 

He takes the vibrator away as you calm down, his hips also pausing, keeping himself deep inside you. The pressure is soothing, and you take a moment to take a deep breath. His palm falls away from your throat, instead propping underneath your cheek.

It takes a few seconds before you feel yourself spasming around him. He chuckles against your back, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Still?”

You nod dumbly, rocking your hips again. “Yeah. I don’t know, I just-- Need more.”

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, pulling out again to roll you onto your stomach instead, one of your favorite positions.

You’re floating as you settle into the pillows, letting Aaron manhandle you wherever you need to be. You groan in your happy, blissed out state as he slides home again, draping himself over your back.

He is gentler now, knowing that’s exactly what you need at this point. The last orgasm he pulls from you is just as gentle, and he pushes deeper into you, letting you ride it out. 

He pulls your hips up and thrusts once, twice before he’s spilling into you. You didn’t realize he was that close again. The warmth is soothing this time as it spreads through you. 

Aaron leaves you only to settle behind you, spooning you once again. Your hand reaches behind you to find him, and he catches your wrist. 

“You need to rest,” he chides softly.

“I know,” you whimper. “Need you inside me.”

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck as he slides in again, still half-hard, but it’s enough. You settle down as soon as the weight of him is tucked inside you again. “Better?”

“Mhm,” you sleepily nod, pushing back into him so he holds you tighter. “Do you have to go back to work?”

He chuckles against you, sighing. “No, I’m done for the day, I think,” he says. “I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well.”

That makes you laugh. “We need a better excuse.”

“Or I need to go back to working in the office.”

You roll your eyes. “Like that’ll make a difference.”

He shakes his head, his mind remembering the same memories that you are. The many lunch hours when you went to eat with him, and ended up with your back pressed into the couch, his tie stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Go to sleep,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer. “I’ll make us lunch when we wake up.”

“Perfect,” you smile, nuzzling into him. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey,” he says, pressing little kisses to your neck and cheeks, wherever he can reach. “Now sleep.”

You’re already halfway there. The combination of him nestled inside of you and the post-orgasm exhaustion is enough to lull you into a restful sleep.

[noahwylle]

CRIMINAL MINDS 2.22 | Legacy

[multifandomgifss]

Criminal Minds 1.11 — Blood Hungry

That’s ‘cause I slipped you 4 of mine.

CRIMINAL MINDS — 1.11 “BLOOD HUNGRY”

[cm-archive]

[tomcriuse]

CRIMINAL MINDS 2.08 'Empty Planet'