#arsonhotchnerreads | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nathanbatemanfucker · 3 years ago

Text

AHHHHHH ITS SO GOOD, thank you for writing it, i loved every moment and now i want cupcakes…and hotch of course 🥵

Sweet Treats

Fantober Day 3!

Word Count: 2936

Summary: Hotch and Y/N attempt to bake cupcakes for a BAU Halloween party but get distracted while they're in the oven.

Characters: Hotch x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some domestic fluff, baking together, smut, oral sex (female and male receiving), fingering, swearing

A/N: Welcome back to day 3 of Fantober 2021! This fic was a request from my dear friend @arsonhotchner (make sure you go follow them, they are incredibly talented and so very sweet) and I had so much fun with this prompt! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did and please keep sending in your requests for Fantober :D

Prompt(s): "... on the bright side, we'll know we can't cook next time."

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

Masterlist

"What are we cooking in here?" You dropped the towel you'd been using to dry your hands down onto the counter and spun around at the sound of Hotch's voice. You were surprised to see him leaning against the kitchen counter behind as you hadn't heard him come in through the front door and you weren't expecting home for another few hours but you couldn't hide your excitement that he was home already. He was smiling contently at you, taking in the sight of the kitchen. You were setting your recipe which meant the countertops were now covered in an assortment of ingredients, containers and a whole hoard of other utensils you'd dug out of the drawers. Admittedly it looked a little messy.

"Not cooking, baking." You grinned widely at him as you leaned over the counter to press a deep kiss against his lips, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. "I was talking to Penelope earlier and she was making some seasonal goodies to bring to JJ and Will's tomorrow for the team and I thought we could bring something nice too. I got some Halloween recipes for cupcakes and cookies from my old baking cookbook that I'm going to try."

"Well since I'm home early, anything I can do to help?" Hotch offered rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he moved around the counter to where you had the recipe book propped open on a recipe for cinnamon cupcakes. He scanned his eyes over the pages noting that it was a simple recipe, nothing you couldn't handle together.

"Yeah actually, it would be nice to have an extra set of hands, thank you, Aaron." You nodded with a smile as you tied an apron around your waist, not wanting to cover your shirt in flour. You handed one of the big bowls on the counter to Aaron as he cleared himself a space to work. "Could you start cracking the eggs into the bowl while I sort out the oven and baking tray?"

Hotch was surprisingly a natural in the kitchen. It was something you'd learned about him when you first started dating, he could pick up a recipe quickly and he'd cooked you some of the best dinners you'd ever tasted. You both settled into an easy rhyme as you split the tasks and worked perfectly together. Maybe it was years in the field together or the deep connection you shared that lead to you both simply sensing when the other needed something, passing it over before you could even ask for it.

It was a calming process, working comfortably with Hotch to create something that you could then share with your friends at the party tomorrow. You chatted together about Hotch's meeting that day as you mixed the ingredients together and there were occasional fits of laughter from both of you as Hotch decided the flour looked better all over the front of your apron instead of in the mixing bowl in front of you. You tried to brush it away only managing to further rub it in and get it all over your hands.

The actual preparation part of the recipe was quick, the baking in the oven making up most of the time and soon enough Hotch was helping you spoon the batter into the cupcake cases. You'd chosen purple and orange cases to give them that Halloween aesthetic. The kitchen was now filled with the overwhelming smell of the vanilla extract and the mix of the scent and the general sweetness of the recipe had been tempting you since you started mixing all the ingredients together. You didn't think you could wait until the cupcakes were done baking to try them so the second Hotch turned his back to place the tray into the oven you reached out and stole the wooden spoon out of the mixing bowl.

When Hotch stood back up he was met with the sight of you licking the excess batter off the spoon, your eyes falling closed as you hummed at the sweet taste coating your tongue. You let out a guilt laugh when you opened your eyes again and found you'd been caught, dropping the spoon back into the bowl.

"Come here." Hotch chuckled with a roll of his eyes as he wrapped one arm around your waist and pulled you in closer to him. There was an amused glint in his eyes as he looked down at you. "You've got batter on your nose."

He brought his free hand up to your face and cupped your cheek, his fingers caressing across your skin before he wiped away the sticky batter with his thumb. He pulled his hand away then, moving it towards his own face to lick the batter off his thumb but before he could you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your face again. You held his hand still as you poked your tongue out and lapped it across the pad of his thumb, cleaning away the last of the batter. Hotch met your gaze with a heavy stare, his eyes darkening as you giggled and released the grip on his wrist.

"How long did you say we have before those cupcakes are done?" He asked, his tone suggestive as he reached the hand that was wrapped around your waist up to untie your apron, dropping it onto the counter behind you. He leaned down to capture your mouth in a heated kiss, pulling you impossibly closer to him and you could feel the effect your little show had on him.

"What do you have in mind for killing the time, Aaron?" You grinned in between kisses, looping your arms around his neck to play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Well, since you already decided to tease me with that skilled tongue of yours I rather like the idea of you on your knees for me," Hotch suggested his voice already heavy with lust, but you could hear the hint of teasing in his words too. You took a step back, detangling yourself from his grip with a fiery look in your eyes. His hand returned to its spot on your face, this time sliding lower from your cheek to cup your chin. His hand kept your focus on his eyes, seeing the change in his eyes as you slowly sunk to your knees in front of him.

"How could I say no to a request like that?" You teased, turning your head so you could press a light kiss to the palm of his hand as his thumb ran across your lips. You loved seeing Hotch like this, seeing him react and getting worked up over the smallest things to the point where he needed you right at that moment no matter where you were. He just needed to feel you. Everyone had warned you that would wear off eventually, that it was the honeymoon phase that every couple went through and eventually the excitement you felt every time that made it feel like the first all over again would fade. You didn't think that would ever happen for you, You and Hotch were together for almost a year now and that blissful state was yet to wear off.

Normally you liked to take your time, to tease Hotch and work him up as much as you could before you really started but now you were aware that you were racing against the timer of the cupcakes and instead went straight for it. You reached out his belt and unbuckled it as quickly as you could, not bothering to pull it out of the belt loops instead you left it to hang around his waist while you turned your attention to his fly. You pulled his pants and boxers down just enough to free his erection not wanting the hassle of undressing fully in the kitchen when it was already a mess.

Hotch let out a low groan from deep in his throat when you reached out and wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, the pressure sending a shock of pleasure through him. You smiled at the sound, pumping your hand along his length making sure he was completely hard before you leaned in and darted your tongue along the path your hand had just taken. Hotch's hand fell to your head, burying his fingers in your hair as you teased across the tip licking away the precum that had already built up there.

"Shit." Hotch hissed tightening his fingers in your hair as you finally took him into your mouth. He leaned his weight back against the counter behind him, not trusting himself to support his own weight if you kept doing what you were doing. "Feels fucking incredible sweetheart."

You moved your hands to hold onto his waist, using it to both balance yourself and to keep yourself grounded in the moment as your arousal started to build between your legs. You pushed yourself forward, taking more of him into your mouth and your tongue ran along the underside of his cock. You could hear his breathing becoming harsher above you as it occasionally melted into a broken moan, your name falling from his lips. You hummed contently at the noises he was making, knowing you were the one making him feel so good that he couldn't keep it in anymore. The vibration from your throat as you hummed only served to heighten his pleasure.

As you adjusted more to having his length in your mouth you started to suck around him, hallowing your cheeks as you started to slowly bob your head. Hotch's hand on the back of your head gently guided your pace, helping you set a faster rhyme that worked for both of you. You kept that pace, doing everything you knew he liked best and it wasn't long until you could feel him starting to move his hips slightly to meet you, resisting the urge to just buck forward as he grew closer to the edge. You quicken your pace then giving Hotch exactly what you knew he needed as your brought your hand up to join the mix, starting to stroke in time with your rhyme. Hotch's breath quickened and his groans of your name became more frequent as you kept up your movements.

"Oh fuck." Hotch groaned loudly his head tipping back as you gave another flick of your hand across his cock, the feeling enough to finally send him over the edge. You felt his blunt nails scratch across your scalp as he came and you swallowed around him, giving a few last flicks of your tongue across the head to clean him up before you pulled away. He reached down and tugged you up in his arms wrapping you up in a tight hug as he left a bruising kiss against your lips. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his heavy breathing fanning across your skin. "One of these days you are going to kill me with that mouth of yours Y/N."

You laughed against his skin, scattering light kisses across the front of this throat letting your hands wander across his chest while you helped him come down from his high. It took a few minutes for him to catch his breath holding you in his arms while he recovered, sucking dark red marks across your shoulders. He pulled away from you for a moment while he tucked himself back in his boxers and pulled his pants back up fixing his belt before grabbing you again, catching you off guard as he spun you around so you were now the one with your back pinned against the counter.

"I think it's only fair that I repay the favour don't you?" He hummed as he looked down at you, brushing your hair out of your face and watching the need building in your eyes. He wanted to touch you just as much as you needed him to.

"I think so." You nodded, your words slightly breathless as a grin broke out across your face at the thought of what was about to come next. He leaned in and captured your lips in a heated kiss pressing you even further back against the counter to the point where it was almost painful but you couldn't focus on anything but the feeling of Hotch's mouth on yours. His hands came to rest on the backs of your thighs and he pulled you closer to him, your chest pressing against his and his hands wandered over your ass, groping at every inch of you that he could reach. He sunk his teeth into your bottom lip making you gasp into the kiss at the sharp pain and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

His hand tapped at your thigh, signalling for you to jump and when you did he hoisted you into his arms wrapping your legs around his waist. He eased you up onto the counter and wasted no time in settling his fingers in the waistband of your pants while he continued to kiss you roughly. His fingers ghosted across your skin from your thighs the whole way down to your ankles as he tugged your pants and panties down at once. You leaned further back, sprawling across the countertop as you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch Hotch's every move.

His hands came back up to grasp at your thighs as he slowly pushed your legs apart, the feeling of him exposing you to him, feeling his heavy gaze on every inch of you sent a shiver down your spine, goosebumps breaking out across your skin. Hotch ran a finger up the length of your entrance, lightly brushing against your clit as he hummed at how wet you were already. Once he knew you were ready he didn't wait any longer before leaning down and lapping his tongue across you. You gasped out at the feeling, your eyes snapping shut as he set a quick pace, alternating between long licks and flicking his tongue against your clit.

He could feel you bucking up against him, your gasps and moans begging for more and he gave you exactly what you wanted as he slid his fingers inside you. One at first, then two, then three. You cried out at the feeling of his fingers filling you perfectly as he worked you towards orgasm quickly. You couldn't hide the moans that were falling from your lips with every pass of his tongue over your clit anymore as you dug your fingers into his hair.

Hotch had a talent for getting you to that edge faster than anyone else you'd ever been with, you'd never been with anyone who knew your body so well and could manipulate it any way he wanted. Maybe it was all the quickies in his office since you'd started dating that had taught him to get you off in minutes when needed. You loved when he got like this, going down on you like he'd never be able to again. His mouth needy and messy against you as gave everything he had to chase your orgasm. It wasn't long until you could feel your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, threatening to rip through you at any moment. Everything felt like too much and not enough all at once and you knew all you needed was a little more pressure. As if on cue Hotch wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked lightly.

"Aaron!" You practically screamed, his name a high pitched moan on your lips as you came, your back arching off the counter. Hotch pressed soft kisses to the inside of your thighs as you slumped against the cold surface of the counter, the feeling soothing your overheated skin. The pleasant feeling of Hotch's lips against your skin and your perfect afterglow were both rather rudely ripped away from you when you heard Hotch swearing under his breath closely followed by the oven door swinging open.

You sat up straight at the suddenly overwhelming smell of burning and watched as Hotch grabbed a nearby tea towel to quickly remove the tray of cupcakes from the oven and dropped them down onto the counter. Instead of the light golden brown that the surface of the cupcakes should have been, they were now black, thoroughly burnt with no hope of saving them.

"... On the bright side, we'll know we can't bake next time." Hotch chuckled carefully picking a cupcake up from the tray to inspect it. It was hard to touch and certainly not something you wanted to bring to the party tomorrow.

"The problem isn't that we can't bake, it's that we can't bake and have sex." You scoffed pulling your pants back up as you hopped off the counter to take a closer look at the burnt goods yourself. You could feel the laughter building in your chest at just how much of a disaster your recipe had turned into. You looked up at Hotch and as soon as he met your gaze you couldn't hold it back anymore and you melted into a fit of laughter.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to try the cookies when Jack gets home then, maybe with supervision we'll actually manage not to burn them this time." Hotch laughed with you as he pulled you into his side, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Taglist: @marauder-level-chaos @arsonhotchner @ssa-ki99 @ssahotchnerxx @iwankqa @kajjaka @infinite-tides @ssahotchie

#aoife!#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds family #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #arsonhotchnerreads

297 notes · View notes

nathanbatemanfucker · 3 years ago

Text

elle why is everything you write just absolute perfection? i’m not complaining tho!

I said I love you, that's forever

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,619 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Fingering, Reader gets drunk, Brief mention of canon-typical violence Summary: This one is sexy, sweet, and fluffy and features Aaron getting used to his new, healthier body. Inspired by @sleepyreaderreads and this ask. Collection: Just The Way You Are Series, Part 1 Part 1 Part 2 (Coming Soon!) Part 3 Part 4 Link to A03 or read below! Being home when Aaron gets home is the best part of having a flexible work arrangement, you have to admit. You’ve been together for five years, but only living together for four months—for one reason or another, mainly his job, it took you a while to reach the cohabitation phase, but neither of you had minded much. You were always spending time together when he was free, and you enjoyed having your own space, so the arrangement worked out for the both of you.

Now, though, as he walks into your home office looking so handsome in a white shirt, black slacks, and burgundy tie, a soft smile on his face, you know without a doubt that you made the right choice by moving in with him. You wouldn’t give this up for anything.

“Hi. How was your day?” he asks, leaning over you for a kiss. He intends to make it quick, but you put your hands on his body, lengthen the kiss, hum against his lips.

“Hmm. It was good. Better now, though.” You hit the keys necessary to lock your desktop and stand, stretch to wrap your arms around his neck. “How was yours?”

“Not bad.” He says it casually, but you can see the stress in the lines around his eyes, his mouth, and you raise a brow in question. “The unit’s being audited. A percentage of our consultations need to be reviewed, updated psychological evaluations completed—on top of everything else, it’s a lot,” he admits with a sigh, and you nod your understanding, brush your fingers through his hair.

“I’ll call Elena and cancel dinner.” You’d planned weeks ago to go out with one of your friends for Indian food, to meet her new boyfriend, but Aaron is clearly having a rough week and it’s only Wednesday. A quiet night in may be just what he needs. “We’ll stay home, I’ll order takeout. We can relax.”

“No, no. I know you’ve been looking forward to this; it’s really alright.” You tilt your head, something of a frown, and he takes your face in his hands, kisses you twice on the mouth. “It’s alright. I want to go out. I want to take you out,” he says, voice low, pulling you in for a slower kiss, and you melt against him, slide your arms around his back instead, pull him closer.

“I want to keep you in,” you murmur when the kiss breaks, and he raises the corner of his mouth in a sexy smile, presses his lips to your nose.

“And miss meeting the one?” You both laugh lightly, because Elena finds the one every couple of months, but she’s a hopeless romantic, always means it at first. It’s endearing, especially when you and Aaron feel a little like an old married couple. “Let’s go out, have a good time. If we stay home, I’ll be tempted to work.” He takes a step back, lets you head out the door and down the hall to your bedroom, so you can get changed; he follows behind, sits down on the bed while you go through your closet.

“I’m sure I could find ways to tempt you not to work,” you say, pushing dresses down the rack until you find one you like: it’s an emerald green mid-length dress, with cap sleeves and a slit up the front, not too formal and not too sexy, perfect for the restaurant where you will be eating.

You pull your t-shirt over your head, bend to slide your leggings off, and Aaron makes a soft noise in the back of his throat.

“Consider me tempted.” You turn around, roll your eyes playfully, and put on the dress, sit down next to him to slip your feet into a pair of nude sandals; you lean in for a kiss, palm pressed to his chest, and it quickly becomes something deep, passionate. Aaron brings a hand to rest against your throat, and you have half a mind to take the dress back off and cancel those plans after all, but you know he wouldn’t let you do that anyway.

You pull back, bite your lip, and give him a very pointed once-over, then stand to finish getting ready. You can feel his eyes on you the entire time. “I’m just saying, he should be on the side of a tub of protein powder or something,” Aaron says later as he unlocks the front door, letting you step in before him. “His arms are bigger than his head.”

“He’s a personal trainer, baby. It’s his job to work out and look buff—he’s like a walking billboard for his business.” You slip your shoes off, hook the straps around your finger, and stroll toward the bedroom. “Elena really seemed to like him.”

“I give them three months.” He’s just a few feet behind you when you turn to shoot him a slightly admonishing look, even if he is probably right. “She seemed more focused on his twelve pack than anything else.”

You toss your phone onto the bed, remove your dress with a soft laugh. “Their relationship is still new; it’s all about the physical. You remember when we were like that, don’t you?” You aren’t exactly surprised when he comes up behind you and glides his hand across your bare stomach, when he brushes your hair away from your neck and kisses you there.

“We were never like that. It was never just physical for me,” he breathes into your ear, and you close your eyes, sink back against him, tilt your neck for more kisses. “I loved you before I loved you. I always just knew.”

“Fuck, Aaron,” you sigh, and you lay your arm along the one on your stomach, reach back with the other to press him closer to you. You lick your lips, turn your head so your face is near his, and he leans in to kiss you and slides his hand into your panties, rubs his fingers over your pussy.

You’re already a little wet from his hands on you, his mouth, but as always, he turns you on effortlessly; your face heats, your heart races, your breath quickens. Your pussy becomes almost unbearably slick, your moans against his lips gentle and pleading, and he removes his hand and slides your underwear down, guides you onto the bed.

You watch, panting, as he removes his tie, then takes off his belt, his pants; you can’t go without touching him for long, and you move to sit up so you can reach for him, pull him closer. You work at the buttons of his shirt from the bottom while he starts at the top, and you take it off together, then slip your hands into his boxers and push them down.

You immediately want to take him into your mouth, thick and hard as he is, and you slide your hands up his stomach, beneath his undershirt, in anticipation of that; you don’t get very far before he lays you back on the bed again, on your side this time. His forcefulness makes you ache to have him inside you, and he crowds in behind you, slides an arm beneath you and wraps his hand around you, over your breast, holding you tightly. You tip your head back, whimper, because he’s going to be so good to you as always and the waiting is almost too much to bear.

“You know I’ve got you,” he whispers, squeezing you, and you nod in response; he lifts your leg and hooks it back over his thigh, then pushes inside you, sinks fully into your wet heat. You exhale, a sigh of pleasure, and he mouths at your jaw, nibbles at your ear while he thrusts slowly but completely. “Hmm. This may not be new, but you’re always perfect for me. Doesn’t that feel so good?”

“So good, so good.” It’s difficult for you to really move in this position, though you rock your hips almost involuntarily into his thrusts, but he takes care of you, nips at the back of your neck, pounds inside you, brings you so close so quickly you almost forget to breathe. Your hands are on him anywhere you can reach, desperate for contact. “Aaron, mmm, god.”

“I know, baby.”

He puts his free hand behind your knee, bends your leg, folds it up by your chest so he can pump his cock faster, harder, and you feel surrounded by him—his hands on your body, his hot grunts of effort in your ear, the faint smell of cologne that lingers after a long day familiar to your nose. You're a little overwhelmed by it all, but pleasantly so, and when he comes you come, clenching tightly around him as he spills deep.

“Perfect,” he whispers tensely, nuzzling against your throat, and he slides out, brings your leg down, runs his hands tenderly over your body like you’re something delicate. “I love you.” You turn your head toward him, say it back, and he presses his palm to your cheek, treats you to a deep, wet kiss, then brushes his thumb over your lips. “Every time I kiss you, it feels like the first time.”

“For me too,” you say with a tired smile, running your fingers through his hair, and he kisses you again before patting your hip and telling you to go get cleaned up, that he’ll take care of the bedding. When you come back, he’s in his boxers and t-shirt, legs tucked under a fresh comforter, and you slide in next to him and curl up beneath his arm. It’s a couple weeks later when you decide to bring Aaron lunch at the office; things seem much calmer lately, but the team’s cases have been back to back, and he’s been out of town a lot. You have to take the opportunity when you can, and that means showing up with a bag of Mexican food and a smile and hoping he’s not too busy to eat with you.

You get checked into the building and head for the BAU bullpen, stopping to chat with the team for a few minutes. You loosely plan for dinner or drinks in the future, make a promise to pop in and see Penelope before you leave, and then head up to Aaron’s office, knock lightly on the doorframe.

“Hungry, handsome?” Aaron looks up from his stack of paperwork with a smile, then slowly runs his eyes over you—you’re wearing a sweater, jeans, boots, nothing revealing in the slightest, but he makes you feel very warm and very naked nonetheless.

“Yes. For lunch, too,” he says, and you roll your eyes, a little bashful, and enter his office, setting down the bag of food you brought after he clears space on the desk. He stands, pulls you close for a hug and kiss, and then you unpack lunch, spread containers out over the desk. “Burritos? Are you trying to beef me up?” he asks, and you look up at him, lift your brow.

“Were you expecting salads? I’m feeding a super special FBI agent here, you need your strength.”

“We’ve only been living together for five months and it’s already getting hard to button my pants,” he grumbles, but he peels back the foil on the one labeled pollo asado without further complaint, takes the hot sauce when you hand it to him.

“So we’ll go up a size. It’s a good thing you’re not living off of coffee and vending machine protein bars anymore. You’ve been needing someone to feed you up for a while—and besides, I don’t mind if your pants are unbuttoned,” you say, licking sauce off of your thumb. “Nothing hotter than a well-fed Fed.” He rolls his eyes, and you sit down to eat.

When the hour is up, you pack up the leftovers, give him a longer, slower kiss goodbye, and pat his stomach, which makes him groan. “Any harder and the button might pop,” he jokes, and you laugh, shake your head.

“Don’t be dramatic. I love this tummy. Might even grab onto it later, you know?” You slowly wet your lips, then smile, and take a step back, take the paper bag and head out the door. “See you tonight, love you.”

“Devil woman,” he calls after you, and you grin the whole way to Penelope’s office.

“Light in the darkness,” she says when she opens the door to find you on the other side. “How did god know I needed to see an angel today?”

“Oh, I don’t know about all that, but I have some extra chips and guac from lunch if you need a pick me up.” She eagerly accepts your offering, and you take a seat next to her, dip a couple of chips half-heartedly, still full from your burrito. “So how have you been? Busy supporting the cutest group of crime fighters since Scooby Doo?” She laughs, nods her head.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the extent of it. When it rains creepy crimes, it pours, apparently. I think we’re all in desperate need of a vacation at this point—and a puppy.” She hits a few keys, pulls up a screensaver that is just a compilation of fluffy puppy photos, and you both sigh.

“Aw, a puppy would be nice. I don’t even dream about vacations anymore; I’ve come to terms with the fact that Aaron will never be the vacationing type.”

“Not even the honeymoon type?” she asks, looking at you over her glasses, and you crunch on a chip, shake your head.

“I doubt it, and we’re not there yet, anyway. I’d consider myself lucky if he took more than two days off in a row.”

“He’s always been like that—working himself too hard,” she says sadly, as if to let you know it has nothing to do with you. You know that, but can’t deny it would be nice to have more than the weekend with him. “As long as I’ve known him, at least.”

“And I get it: what you guys do is important, and I wouldn’t want him to change himself for me. I guess we all just have our things.” You smile, and she does too, reaches out to pat you on the arm.

“Could be worse, honey. Could always be worse.” She hits a few keys on the keyboard again, and up pops a man’s mugshot. “This guy’s girlfriend had to find out he’s been killing women and chopping them up in an industrial food processor.”

You’re glad you already had lunch, because the imagery is enough to make you lose your appetite for several hours.

Your stomach eventually comes around, and you and Aaron have a quiet dinner—chicken, potatoes, and “a salad, since you’re watching your figure now” you tease—and then you ask if he’d be okay with calling it a night a little early. He agrees, and you take him to bed and undress, then slowly pull off all his clothes, running your hands over his body as you go.

“So big and strong,” you murmur as you brush your palms over his shoulders, press your lips to his bare chest. “Unbearably sexy.”

“Used to be stronger,” he sighs as you trail your mouth lower, sink to your knees, smooth your hands down his thighs.

“I used to be perkier; still want me, don’t you?” You look up at him, wink, and he reaches down to cup your cheek with a big hand; you nuzzle into it, happy, content, just like always.

“I’ll always want you.”

“Good. And I’ll always want you.” Just in case the words aren’t enough, you bring your hands to his stomach, massage it a little, run your tongue slowly over the length of his cock. “Mmm. Lay down for me?”

He does, and you climb on top of him, lean in to kiss him slowly, deeply, skimming neatly trimmed nails over his chest. You kiss along his throat, down to his stomach, and then wrap a hand around the base of his dick and put your mouth on him, the other hand pressed lightly against his stomach while you suck him off.

Your pace is easy, your hand moving in time with your tight lips and hollow cheeks, and you squeeze his tummy, moan your pleasure, and flick your eyes up to his face. His lips are soft around a sigh, but his brows are tensely knit, and he brings a hand to your chin, caresses you lightly when he floods your mouth, when you swallow for him and lick him clean.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, and you crawl up his body, kiss his cheeks and his lips and then whimper when he presses your back against the bed.

His fingers find you soft and wet and open, and he pushes two of them inside, leans over you to mouth wetly at your throat, your breasts. You weave your fingers into his hair, grip his shoulder, moan his name, and he makes you come quickly, expertly, in that practice makes perfect kind of way. He kisses your lips as you sigh, sink against the bed, then rubs his hand over your chest and hums.

“Perky,” he says in your ear, and then you both laugh, and you pull him down on top of you for a quick cuddle before going to the bathroom to get ready for bed. A couple of Fridays later, it’s your turn to host girls night, so you’re in the kitchen putting together a charcuterie board and mixing up cocktails when Aaron walks in, looking casual and cuddly in jeans and a quarter-zip fleece sweatshirt. You know he plans to set up camp in his office, but you kind of wish he wouldn’t just so you’d get to look at him some more.

“Gorgeous man,” you say, peering up at him as you wrap your arm around his waist. “Can I interest you in a paloma?” You lift up a pink cocktail and he laughs lightly, guides your hand back toward the counter.

“You can’t, but I will take a beer for the road.” You shrug your shoulders, let him go so he can walk over to the fridge; you take a sip of the drink you offered him, wince a little—it’s a bit strong for a girls night in, but it won’t kill anyone—and Aaron caches the expression, holds back a smile. “Are you going to end up drunk tonight? Should I prepare for the worst?”

“Ha ha. I don’t plan on it, but if I do, just throw me over your shoulder and put me to bed.”

“It’s cute that you think that works,” he says, bending to kiss you on the cheek, and then the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it, baby. Keep… rearranging your cheese.” He smiles, you smile back, a little exasperated, and he goes to answer the door.

A short time later, you and your friends are gathered in the living room, sprawled across the sectional sofa with drinks and snacks. You’re maybe a little tipsy, and when the topic turns to Elena’s now ex-boyfriend, the personal trainer, you’re just uninhibited enough to weigh in.

“I don’t know what you saw in him anyway. He spent so much time in front of the mirror, I would have been insecure that he was going to leave me for himself.” Your friend Jada laughs, and you preen, take another sip of your drink.

“She just misses his dick; the new guy isn’t working with much. What’s his name? Chester? Charlie?”

“Clifford,” Elena says, pulling out her phone, “and no, he’s not working with much, but he’s really cute. Look at him.” She shows you a photo from her camera roll, and Clifford looks just like the personal trainer, but with brown hair instead of blond.

“Not my type,” you dismiss with a wave of your hand, “but clearly he’s yours, so congrats, really. You can work around the small dick thing.”

“What is your type?” your other friend Michelle asks. “I’ve never been able to pin it down.” You open your mouth to answer but frown after a moment.

“I’ve never really had one, I guess. I know what I don’t find attractive, but what I do find attractive?” You think on it for a minute, and all you can imagine is what you already have. You can’t help smiling wide. “I mean, if I had to say, I guess just Aaron.” Your friends chime in with a chorus of aww, and you shush them. “I just think he’s perfect, you know? He’s smart and sweet and secretly funny; tall, and strong, but not in a ‘spends all day at the gym’ way—no offense. He’s a little softer, I can wrap myself up in his arms. It’s nice.”

“I’m with you,” Jada says. “A hard body might be nice to look at, but I need something to grab onto in the middle of the night.”

“Yes! Something to grab onto, and Aaron is perfect for that. He’s such a good cuddler, and he’s heavy, in a sexy way, like when he’s on top of me.” Okay, so you’re definitely a little drunk, never this loose-lipped about your sex life, but it’s all true regardless. “And he’s nice to look at—so nice to look at. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

You could go on talking about Aaron for the rest of the night, but topics change and you have enough sense not to ramble any further; you don’t have the sense to stop drinking, though, so by the time your friends leave, you’re puttering around trying to clean up the kitchen, and not doing a very good job of it. Aaron finds you, makes a soft sound and puts his arms around you from behind, effectively stilling your motions.

“Let’s go to bed, baby,” he murmurs into your hair, and you sink back against his body, sigh happily.

“I want to go to bed—I want to go to bed with you. I always want to go to bed with you, because I love you.”

“I know, sweetheart, I love you, and we’re going to go to bed right now. We can clean up tomorrow.” You let him lead you down the hall, but you only make it halfway to the bedroom before you turn around in his arms, try to pull him down to your level. He’s so tall it can sometimes be annoying.

“I love you. I want you, always. You’re my type.” He laughs, bends to kiss you softly and tries to walk you backward toward the bedroom.

“Thank you. You’re my type, too, and I want you always.” You nod, because that’s good. You should be his type, since he loves you. That just makes sense.

“I want a puppy—a fluffy baby puppy with you. I’ll be the puppy mom and you’ll be the puppy dad.”

“A puppy,” he repeats, and you make it to the bedroom: you can tell because he sits you gently on the bed, helps get you out of your jeans. “We could get a puppy, if that’s something you want. I can walk it in the mornings before work, you can walk it on your lunch.”

You make a happy sound, because you hadn’t expected him to say that. You figure asking for one more thing can’t hurt, while you’re on a roll.

“I want a vacation, too, please. A beach vacation—I want to see you in swim trunks, your hair all wet, and I want to feel your skin warm from the sun.” He pulls your top over your head and walks away from you; when you make a sound of protest, he assures you he’ll be right back, and he returns with one of his t-shirts, helps you put it on.

“You want a beach vacation?” He turns down the bed, maneuvers you under the covers, then starts undressing himself. “What brought that on?”

“I don’t know. Just want to go away with you,” you say, and you can feel yourself drifting now that you’re cozy in bed, wearing Aaron’s clothes, soft pillows all around you. “A vacation, or a—a honeymoon.”

Aaron says something in response to that, but you can’t make it out, too busy falling asleep and imagining the scent of sunscreen and the feel of thick fingers rubbing it into your shoulders. You wake with a bit of a headache, and a dry mouth, and a warm body at your back, an arm loosely slung around your waist. You groan and press back against Aaron, and he leans forward to brush his lips over your ear and chuckle lightly against it.

“I think you went a little overboard,” he says, and he smooths your unruly bedhead back away from your face. “There’s water and ibuprofen on the nightstand. If you’re feeling up to it, I think a shower would do you some good. I’ll make breakfast.” He presses several soft kisses to your cheek and chin, and you close your eyes, hum your contentment.

“I love you, do you know that?”

“I do know that,” he breathes, and he runs his hand over your hip in a way that makes you wish you had more energy and less aching in your temples. “You said it a lot last night—I also couldn’t help overhearing you say I’m the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.”

“Well that’s true. Incredibly handsome,” you agree tiredly, and he presses his lips to your neck in the form of soft, smacking kisses.

“You also said you wanted a honeymoon,” he murmurs, and you open your eyes comically wide, slide up to a seat, look down at his face to try to read his expression.

“I did?” He nods, clearly trying not to smile at your surprise.

“Yes, you did. I’m not clear on the details, though—would that include a wedding, or were you planning on skipping over that part?” You lean over him, hide your face against his shoulder, and he laughs softly, rubs his hand up and down your back. “We’ve never talked about it, but it seems that’s something I should have at least brought up. We just took our time moving in together, and I didn’t want to rush that if you weren’t ready. Are you ready?” he asks quietly, and you pull back to look at him—his open expression, soft features, curious eyes.

“In theory, or in practice?” You have to ask, because this is Aaron, and he’s amazing, but he’s not a grand gestures type of man—if he’s asking you to marry him, you want to be very clearly on the same page to avoid miscommunication. He smiles, runs his hand down your arm.

“In theory.” You think of what it would mean, how it would feel, being married to the best man you’ve ever met, the kindest, most open-hearted (if occasionally grumpy) person, and the answer comes easily.

“Yes, I’m ready in theory.” His smile grows, and you match it, leaning down for a kiss. Then, he moves out from under you, reaches behind himself, into his nightstand, and rummages around for a moment before returning with a blue velvet box that he just holds, so casually, in his hand.

“How about in practice?” Your heart sinks to your stomach in the best way, and you can’t find the words even though you know exactly what you want to say. You bite your lip, and your eyes water a little; Aaron presses his palm to your cheek, and you meet in the middle for a slow, sweet kiss, exhaling softly when you pull apart.

You nod your head.

“Yes, I’m ready in practice.” You kiss again, a bit less sweet, weaving your fingers into his hair, and he pulls you down, makes you laugh, covers you with his body and kisses your face until you’re both out of breath.

“That’s good, because I want to make an honest woman out of you if we’re going to have a baby.” You freeze beneath him—did you talk about children last night, too, in your drunken haze?—and he chuckles, leans back so you can better see his face. “A fluffy baby puppy, remember? I’ll be the puppy dad and you’ll be the puppy mom.” You smack his chest, which he finds hilarious, and then you put your hands on his arms and sigh.

“Let me see that ring, please.” He props himself up on his elbows, opens the box for you: it’s sparkling, beautiful, exactly what you would have chosen for yourself, and you pluck it out, hold it up, and then hand it back so he can slide it onto your finger. “How long has this been in that drawer?”

“Since you moved in,” he says, and he takes your hand, kisses it, and admires your new accessory. “It was in my sock drawer before that, and I’m honestly not sure how long it was there. Two years, at least.” You frown just so you won’t cry, and he leans in to press his lips to the downturned curve of yours. “I told you, I always just knew.”

You deepen the kiss, run your hands over his sides beneath the soft t-shirt he slept in; his fingers move to the hem of the t-shirt you slept in as if to remove it, and you pause, pull back.

“No, wait, I’m gross. How are you even kissing me right now?” Aaron rolls his eyes, presses his mouth to yours repeatedly despite your half-hearted protests.

“Because I don’t care about morning breath, I’m marrying you.” He puts his hands in your hair, continues kissing, and you know resistance is futile; he wants you regardless, just as you are, and you would feel the same if roles were reversed—you do, every day.

“Mmh, okay but. At least let me. Shower first,” you mumble against his lips, and he rolls his eyes, leans back so he’s on his knees hovering over you, hands on his thighs.

“Would that make you feel better?” You nod happily, and he climbs off the bed, pulls you to your feet. “In that case, you go shower, and I’ll make breakfast as planned. And then, if your conditions are met, princess,” you wrinkle your nose, and then you both laugh, “I think I would like to make love to my fiancée, if that’s something that would interest you.”

“I’m very interested in that,” you agree, winding your arms around his neck, and you allow him one more kiss before you shuffle toward the shower, standing under the spray long enough to feel fully human again.

You drink the water, take the ibuprofen, and throw on his quarter-zip sweatshirt from the night before, and then meet him for eggs, toast, fruit, and kisses. He’s cleaned up the mess from last night, brewed a fresh pot of coffee, and you fall a little bit in love all over again.

After breakfast, you make it as far as the couch, flat on your back with the sweatshirt hiked up around your stomach and Aaron’s head between your thighs; you moan, tug on his hair as he drags his tongue repeatedly through the wetness that clings to your pussy, and when he makes you come you close your legs around his shoulders, squeezing tightly, back arching off of the couch.

“Mmm. Should have locked you down a lot sooner,” you pant, encouraging him to climb on top of you. He licks his lips and leans in for a warm, soft kiss.

“I’ve been locked down since our first date. You wore a blue dress and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” You pull his shirt over his head, and he pushes his boxers off, guides his cock inside you and plants his hands, noses along your cheek. “And now you’re mine.”

You can’t remember the last time you had sex in broad daylight—or the living room, for that matter—so each roll of his body, heavy and smooth against yours, is that much hotter as the sun shines in through the window, as birds chirp from the tree just outside. Your moans feel louder, more indecent, and you hold onto his ass, run a hand up his back, while he groans in your ear, whispers things like fuck and baby and mine.

“Aaron, please,” you sigh, digging your fingertips into his hips, and he kisses you, thrusts harder, knows what you need without having to hear it. He’s getting close too, huffs hot breath against your cheek, and you squeeze him tighter, press up against him. “Yes, hmm. I’ve got you, baby.” You move a hand to his hair, carding fingers through it, and he rests one gently over your throat, kisses you deep and wet, passionate, pounds against you until he comes.

He slides his hand down your body, rubs his fingertips over your clit, and this time your orgasm is softer, and you bite at his shoulder just to feel more connected, even though he is still inside you, heavy above you. You cling to him, catch your breath, and then you kiss a little before hurrying to get cleaned up and hoping you don’t make a mess of the couch.

When you reconvene in the living room, windows open, curtains blowing softly in the breeze, Aaron is on the couch with his laptop on his thighs. You plop down next to him, peer over his shoulder, and he raises his eyebrow and smiles.

“What do you think of Golden Retrievers?” You rest your head against him, look at the screen full of fuzzy yellow puppies, and sigh, content.

Taglist 🤍: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream @unicornprancing @uchihasteph @mugi-chwan95 @madamsnape921 @hxtchncr

#Elle my softie!#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #arsonhotchnerreads

318 notes · View notes

nathanbatemanfucker · 3 years ago

Text

you truly have me in shambles, amber i’m in crisis and on my way to renew our vows and make you breakfast i-

Forbidden Fruit [Hotch x Reader]

Part 3:

A/N: So clearly, this got away from me. FF was supposed to be a one shot but here we find ourselves. Dedicated to the whores in the GC, @ssahotchie @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @h0tchner 👹

Warnings: 18+!!! Heavy smut, just filth from beginning to end. Oral sex, M/F receiving, overstimulation, Daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected P in V, Hotch is a pleasure Dom and a big big slut. Boyfriend’s Dad!Hotch, DILF!Hotch.

———

You say goodbye to Jessica at the door as Mr Hotchner helps her load her bags into the trunk, filled with presents and leftovers from dinner for Roy. You trudge back inside and decide to clear out the kitchen, nerves suddenly tingling with anticipation.

“Bye! See you later, buddy! Drive safe.” Mr Hotchner calls out from the front stoop. You take a deep breath and continue wiping dishes and glasses when moments later, the door clicks shut and you hear footsteps approaching behind you.

You swallow your butterflies and reach into the high cupboard to put back the glasses in their places when suddenly, you feel a large pair of hands palming your ass. He’s on you immediately, so quickly in fact, that the glass almost drops. He pulls you flush to him, your back against his chest, his face buried in your neck.

“Such a good girl aren’t you? Following instructions, not wearing panties to dinner. Letting yourself get fingered at the dinner table, fuck I can still feel the way you were trembling.” He all but growls the last part into your neck, his voice gravelly and low.

Your head falls back against his chest as he brings a hand around to palm at your tits through the silk of your dress, his other hand now cupping your pussy roughly. There’s no decorum, no real technique to his ways tonight. He’s a man starved, taking the front of your dress with him as he rubs your pussy. Your hands fall to his forearms that bracket your midsection to steady yourself.

“Oh my God, oh Jesus that feels so fucking good. Please.”

“I love it when you tell me what you want. Who’s pussy is this, huh?” He swats your clit, making you jump. “Answer me, Princess. Who’s sweet little pussy is this?”

“It’s yours. It’s all yours, take it.” You whimper. “Take what’s yours.”

“Damn fucking right, don’t you ever forget that.”

He turns you roughly, hoisting you onto the counter. He pulls your dress down, then the cups of your lace white bra and sucks a nipple into his mouth, his left hand flat against your pussy. He sucks and rubs enthusiastically, his hand working lightning fast against your clit, bringing you the edge quicker than you ever have.

He releases your nipple with a graze of his teeth that sends shockwaves down your stomach and straight to your clit where he doesn’t relent. He pulls your other nipple into his mouth and you grip the edge of the counter to keep steady, Mr Hotchner’s erratic movements and your impending orgasm making you shake.

Your thoughts are incoherent and all you can manage is a “Please. Please, please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.”

Your eyes begin to flutter shut at the feeling of overwhelming pleasure taking over you for the third time today but a harsh hand on the back of your head pulls you back.

“Eyes on me, sweet girl. I wanna see your eyes roll back when you come on my hand, want you to look at me and only me.” He rubs your clit until you finally break, legs trembling around him and your hands fist his his crisp white shirt. His mouth falls open in an ‘O’ as you come on his hand, his gaze following yours in amazement.

He delivers a few swats to your pussy when you come down causing you to twitch violently, but your bones feel like jelly. You wrap your arms around his strong shoulders, bury your face in his neck, and he surprisingly takes the time to rub up and down your back, shushing you.

“Intense, huh?” He asks, lifting you off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist as he leads you out of the kitchen.

“Mhm.” Your reply is muffled. “I don’t think I’ve ever had one that intense.” He carries you out of the kitchen but you stop him. “Wait. I need my phone.”

He allows you to retrieve it but chuckles darkly, leading you into the bedroom at the top of the stairs. The master bedroom. His bedroom. “Oh trust me, your phone is going to be the last thing on your mind. I’m nowhere near done with you yet, Angel.”

As you’re getting your bearings, you’re thrown onto a plush mattress. Mr Hotchner stands over you in all his glory, his chest broad through his shirt, his midsection strong with some softness to it. You suddenly have the urge to feel all of his weight on top of you.

“You didn’t think this was going to be like last night did you? A quick fuck and I’d send you on your way?” His hands rub your calf gently, travelling upwards towards your thighs. “No, after feeling you squeeze my cock last night, after knowing what you taste like and what you look like when you come?” He invites you to take his hands, so you do. He lifts you and has you raise your arms so he can access the zipper on the side of your dress, slowly trailing it down. “Oh, I plan on playing out some fantasies tonight. I’m gonna spread you wide open and take my sweet sweet time with you until all you can whisper is my name.”

Oh?

Oh.

That sends a dark, anticipatory shiver up your spine. “But what about the boys?” You ask.

He grins. “I didn’t bank on Zach checking the forecast, like I said. I know my son. It’s supposed to pelt down for the rest of the night, and knowing Jessica, she’ll just tell the boys to spend the night.”

“So that means…”

“That means I have the entire night to make you forget your own name. That means I can make you come over and over and over again, until you’re a desperate, fucked out mess - I can come inside you. And do it all over again until the morning.”

His words send jolts of pleasure to your pussy, already sensitive and throbbing. He grabs your ankles and pulls you forward, making you fall back on the bed, and slides your dress down your body, discarding your bra.

You realise this is the first time he’s seen you completely naked, sprawled out and on display for him and it makes your skin tingle with sudden self-consciousness. He’s still fully clothed, assertive in his gaze as it sweeps over your chest, your stomach, your bare pussy and legs.

He sucks in a breath, chuckling lightly as he goes to spread you further but you stop him. “Take it off.” You whisper. You kneel slowly, making sure to bat your eyelash at him and run your hands over his midsection. “Take it off. I want to see you.”

His eyes flash with something dark. “You’ll get what I give you.”

You curl your fingers around his collar and begin to unbutton his shirt, putting your mouth close enough to brush against his neck. “But what if I want to taste you on my tongue?” You kiss his neck, nibbling your way up to his ear as you continue unbuttoning his shirt. He grabs your wrists to stop you. “Please? Please, Daddy? Let me see you?” You graze your teeth over his earlobe, “Let me feel you?” You can hear him exhale roughly when you press your front to his chest, and using the palms of your hands, you rid him of the material, feeling over his hard chest and midsection.

“Fucking hell, sweet girl, you’re going to be the death of me. Let me feel that mouth.”

His chest is as wide and strong as it appears in those shirts he wears, his midsection solid with some softness around the edges but you have no doubt he could crush you. You kiss down his chest, feeling over hard muscle and sinew, trailing your tongue down the faint ridges of his abdomen.

You grip his cock through his jeans and he’s already painfully hard and warm. Your heart flips at the prospect of actually holding him in your hands, actually tasting him. He shudders when you mouth at him through his trousers and he grips your hair with a clenched jaw.

You get the idea and quickly undo his belt and fly, and pull his boxers down with his trousers, allowing him to step out of them. Fucking hell. His cock springs up, the head of it flushed and leaking precum. He’s of average length but thick enough that you can’t get your middle finger and thumb to meet around him.

You have a moment of disbelief, did you really take his cock last night if he was that big?

You stroke him from base to tip, using your thumb to smear the clear liquid leaking from him. His head falls back with a breathy groan as you stare up at him and take his majestic form in. You lick up his shaft slowly, and dip your tongue in his slit before swallowing his tip. You suck on it lightly, and as you do, his thighs twitch.

“My God, I’ve thought about this mouth, but nothing I imagined could ever come close to this. So fucking wet and warm.”

You start to bob up and down faster, chasing the salty taste of him and stroking what you can’t reach with your hands. You lay your tongue flat on the underside of his cock to run over the throbbing vein, reaching for his balls.

“Jesus fucking-“ he holds your head in place and takes his cock out of your mouth when you moan around him. “Slower, Princess. You keep moving your mouth like that, this’ll be over before it begins.”

Your stomach flutters when he says that, knowing that you have that effect on this man. A flush breaks out across his chest as you slowly suck his cock. You take the time to slowly ease him deeper and deeper into your mouth until he hits your throat, where you fight to keep from gagging.

His hands fist in your hair, as he shallowly fucks your mouth and he speaks through gritted teeth. “You know how many times I’ve thought about having you like this over the past 24 hours? On your knees, with spit and cum running down your chin and tits?” You glance up at him with watery eyes and he brings a thumb to wipe away a stray tear. “Such a dirty girl, you secretly love it don’t you? Love taking it from me? Calling me Daddy?”

You’re dripping wet and half rubbing yourself on the bedsheets for some friction, but you nod with a mouthful of his cock. He reaches over and swats your ass hard enough to sting, finally moving your mouth off his cock. Strings of saliva and his precum trail down onto your chin and tits and when he sees them, he gathers them up with his fingers.

“Open wide.” He sticks three fingers into your mouth, his thumb resting under your chin. He thrusts them in and out of your mouth slowly, letting your tongue work over his digits, his dick twitching at your swollen lips.

He removes his fingers from your mouth and grabs you roughly, turning you so you’re on your front. He grips your hips and arches your ass up, one hand flat on your back. You’d never pegged him for an ass man but the way he squeezes and swats your ass hard enough to leave a sting converts you.

“How many have you had today, pretty girl?” When you whimper in desperation, he swats you again. “Answer me. How many times did you come today?”

“Three times, Daddy.”

He scoffs. “That’s right. Because I take care of my Princess. And I’m gonna make you come again and again until you can’t take it and not a minute sooner, understand?”

You clench around nothing, anticipation about the night ahead of you taking over. “Yes, Daddy.” He grunts in approval and you feel the dip behind you, his hands separating your ass. You lurch forward suddenly when you feel his face buried between your cheeks, his tongue licking at your hole from behind.

Definitely an ass man.

He keeps a tight grip of you as he uses his jaw to lick and suck his way down, dipping into your pussy. He’s drunk on the taste of you, has been since this morning. It’s been all he could think about which is why he spent the better part of today hard as a rock. He ruts against the bedsheets himself as he licks and sucks with soft lips and an urgent tongue.

You fist your hands in the bedsheets when he spits between your cheeks, letting the saliva trail down your ass and to your pussy, where he promptly licks it back up and uses the wetness to suck at your clit.

With your fourth orgasm fast approaching, it takes less effort to make you come now, your body already ablaze and nerve endings singing. Your arms tremble as you try to keep yourself on your hands and knees but you fall forward, unwittingly giving him better access. He seals his lips around your clit and dips the tip of his index finger into your ass and you come violently, shuddering in front of him. The sheets muffle your screams but he keeps his mouth on you, keeps working his jaw to lick and suck you dry.

You twitch away from him, sensitive and malleable and he chuckles darkly, squeezing your ass. “Never tasted a pussy so sweet in all my life. Never seen an ass as perfect as this. Fuck, Princess.” He runs a knuckle down your spine and you whimper needily. “But I told you I wanted to hear you scream. The house is empty, so I may as well make you come until you can’t see straight.”

He lays on his back behind you, and lifts your hips, dragging you back. “Come sit on my face, pretty girl. I wanna see you this time.”

The thought of yet another orgasm makes your mouth dry and your head spin, but the longing between your thighs makes your move before your brain can process it. You bracket his head with your thighs, a strange juxtaposition considering he’s always the one in charge. He wraps his forearms around your thighs and lowers you down onto his mouth, tongue darting out to immediately taste you again.

Your head falls back and your thighs still tremble with aftershocks from your previous orgasm but he pulls you down closer, allowing the full weight of you to fall on him. He lays his tongue flat and llicks up your slit and circles your clit, his nose blowing hot air against your pussy.

Is he enjoying this? Grunts and moans leave his mouth and you can feel his hips jerking upwards in a futile attempt to get some friction. That spurs you on even more.

“Oh my God, oh fuck, Daddy. Right there, that feels so good. Right there, please.” You whimper.

“Come on, honey. Give it to Daddy. Ride my face until you come and don’t you dare muffle your screams this time. I want to hear how loudly I can make you come.” Your fingers tangle in his hair as you slowly grind against his mouth, allowing yourself room to rub against his tongue the way you want.

Your heart beats erratically as you feel your release approaching but then your phone rings. You half want to let it ring, this feels too fucking good but the caller ID tells you it’s Zach. You lift yourself off Mr Hotchner’s mouth to answer but as soon as you do, he pulls you back onto his mouth.

You gasp in shock. “Hello?”

“Hey babe, we just got to Aunt Jess’ but there’s a storm brewing. She wants us to stay the night with her and Grandpa.” Mr Hotchner’s lips latch onto your clit and your eyes flutter shut, blood rushing in your veins. “Are you going to be okay with Dad?”

More than okay.

“Yeah, no problem.” You reply weakly, clapping your free hand over your mouth to stop your whimpers. You can’t help but grind down on him anyway, one of his hands now palming at your tits.

“You okay? You don’t sound too good?”

“Yeah, all good. Just had to run to grab the phone that's all. I think I’m going to turn in for the night, I’ll see you tomorrow?” You’re already moving the phone away from your ear when he says goodbye, and throw it across the bed haphazardly as soon as it clicks shut.

“Dirty girl. Cheating on your man with his father, letting him eat your beautiful little cunt while you talk to him?” You would feel shame but you’re too far gone now to care. “Come. Come now, sweetness. Wanna feel you cum all over my face.”

It only takes a few more licks and a well-timed roll of your nipple for you to come crashing down, electricity crackling at the base of your spine. You almost wail at the intensity of your orgasm, your moans coming in the form of expletives from your mouth as you ride Mr Hotchner’s face until you come down.

You fall onto your hands, deflated with blood thrumming in every single nerve ending, your hair sticking to your neck now with the sweaty exertion. Mr Hotchner lays a wet kiss on your clit before lifting you off him and gathers you in his arms. He checks your face for signs of concern, but you’re utterly blissed out.

“That was fucking amazing.” You breathe, snaking your arms around his shoulders.

His cock throbs painfully now, wanting nothing more than to be buried inside you. He wraps an arm around your waist and moves you up the bed, laying your head on his soft pillows. He takes one and places it under your hips, tilting you just enough so he can find his place between your legs.

Your eyes focus on his body, majestic and solid, a flush spreading across his chest and his lips slick with your arousal. You can’t help but reach out and touch his chest and tummy, your hands tracing faint lines of definition, but your favourite part about him is his shoulders. Wide and strong and so utterly sexy. He’s the sexiest fucking man you’ve ever been with and you have no doubt you’re ruined for anyone who comes after him.

He rubs the head of his cock down your slit, dipping the smallest amount of his tip into your pussy, before withdrawing and circling your clit. You gasp at the sensation, his thick cock throbbing against you, your wetness making you slick.

“Oh my God, please. I need more, Daddy. Please, don’t tease.”

“Open wider, pretty girl. Want to get you nice and ready, feel how slick you really are on my cock.” He sucks in a ragged breath when you oblige. “Look at you. So wet and willing, so eager to please.” He taps the head of his cock against your clit before dipping down into your pussy, and dragging back up again. “Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me how wet you are, tell me you want my cock with that sweet innocent mouth of yours.”

You separate your index and middle finger into a ‘V’ to squeeze the edge of his cock as he drags it up and down your slit teasingly. “Can’t you feel me, Daddy? Can’t you feel me dripping onto your sheets and making a mess?” You rut against him. “I want your thick cock deep inside my wet little pussy, I want you to fuck me until I can’t breathe. I want you to take this cunt and use it, Daddy. Make it yours.”

His eyes roll back and he lets out a dark chuckle. “Oh, I’ll do more than use it. I’m going to ruin you for everybody who comes after me. There won’t be a single person you’ll fuck after me without being able to think of this. I promise you that.”

And you believe him. Oh you believe him because when he finally slides in with his strong arms bracketing your head, you almost come on the spot. You let out a guttural moan, as he stretches you deliciously, his tip pushing deeper. “Fuck, Daddy. You’re so big.” You whimper as tears prick the corners of your eyes. He wipes them away, kissing your forehead.

“You can take it. I know you can. Because you’re my good girl and your tight little pussy is going to take all of me right? Until I’m buried deep just the way you want?”

Your pussy grips him tight and with every thrust, he buries himself deep to the hilt, withdraws almost completely and repeats over and over again. The punishing snap of his hips and the way he brushes over that spot deep inside you makes you sob.

“Right there, Daddy. That’s it, that’s the fucking spot. Right fucking there, please, give it to me.”

He drops to his elbows and crowds you enough to make you dizzy, his body weight finally falling on top of you and it is undoubtedly the sexiest thing you’ve ever felt in your life. His stomach brushes against yours, skin on skin, his heavy presence surrounding you. His forehead rests on yours and it feels so strangely intimate, almost tantric or hypnotising to breathe his air. Your nails scratch down his back, leaving angry red welts on his skin.

“Yeah? Like that? You like that, don’t you?” He smirks. “You take me so fucking well. So fucking well, pretty girl, I can feel you squeezing me. Does it feel good?”

You nod desperately, hooking your legs over his ass to push him in deeper with your heel. “Yes. I’m so close. Please give it to me, don’t fucking stop, Daddy. Oh, I’m going to come.”

“Yes you are. And you’re going to keep coming until I tell you to stop aren’t you? Keep your eyes on me.” He picks up his pace now, bruising, as skin slapping on skin fills the room and you chase your release. He pins your hands above your head, lacing your fingers with his as he snaps his hips until you come, moaning into his mouth. His gaze remains on your face, contorted in the most pleasure you’ve ever felt in your life while you flutter wildly around him.

“Good girl, that’s it. Come down for me, well done.”

He thrusts shallowly letting you ride your orgasm out and gathers you in his arms without slipping out of you. He wraps two strong arms around your waist, and makes sure your legs are secure before he lifts both of you, getting onto his feet.

This new angle allows him deeper than you’ve ever felt him before, your legs stretched around his waist, gravity working just enough to let you impale yourself on his cock. He holds you up with one arm snaking up your back up to grip the back of your neck, the other wrapped safely around your waist to keep you in place.

You eye shoot open and you gasp, clawing at his back when he thrusts upwards, making you see stars. “Oh my God, that’s so deep, that’s so fucking deep, Daddy.”

“Mhm. Do you like that?” He teases, nodding along. “Does it feel so good in my baby’s pussy?”

You’ve officially lost count how many times you came today, you’re so sensitive. He sets a fast rhythm, pulling you onto his cock and thrusting upwards to meet you there, using you like a rag doll completely for his pleasure.

You can sense he’s close now, his cock throbs inside you and you can feel his heart hammering in his chest. You both breathe each other's air, the lack of oxygen making you dizzy, the atmosphere heady as you both chase your release.

“Don’t care how wrong this is, you feel too good. So warm and wet and oh so fucking tight. Squeeze me so good baby, I can feel you dripping down my thighs. You going to come again?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, the base of his cock rubbing against your clit with every pass. “I can’t. I can’t, it’s too much.”

“Yes you can. I know you can give me another one, sweet girl. I know you’ve got another one in you, you’re so close already. Come for me, baby.”

He walks you back over to the bed and lays you at the foot of it, the bottom half of your body hanging off the bed and essentially bent in half by him. He hooks his arms around the bottom of your thighs, tilting your pussy completely up so he can drive into you.

You whimper and grab at his arms, juices leaking down your pussy and onto your ass, head spinning with pleasure and pure intoxication.

“Touch yourself for me.” He groans. “Help me make you come. Come on, like a good girl, rub that pretty clit the way you want to, give me one more.”

Your mouth goes dry, his words making you clench around him, butterflies erupting in your stomach. The way he slams into you is carnal now, his brows furrowed and hot breath coming in puffs against your skin as you rub your clit for him.

You can feel yourself hurtling towards another orgasm, right as he does, twitching inside you. “Good girl. Remember, eyes on me, I want to watch you come.”

“Come inside me, Daddy.” Your head begins to spin. “Please, I’m so close, I’m so fucking close. Please come inside me, give me that load, deep.” You grit out.

“Yeah? You want me to come deep inside this sweet little cunt? You want it bad, don’t you?”

He thrusts into you a few more times before he stills, withdraws almost completely and slams into you, sheathing himself to the hilt as he finally comes. He lets his body drape over yours, his stomach and chest rubbing against yours as his hot come triggers your own orgasm. He leaves you shaking and weightless, you’re pretty sure you black out for a few seconds.

You’re both panting, breathless messes, and in a moment that shocks you, he leans in and takes a pull of your lower lip with his own. Your eyes flutter closed when you realise this is the first time you’ve kissed him. You’re spent but you still sink into the kiss, his lips soft but firm, his tongue meshing with yours as he deepens it.

You pull away breathless, like he just kissed the air from your lungs, but his eyes remain closed in bliss. He’s still buried inside you, the aftershocks of your orgasms making you twitch around him.

He chuckles once he opens his eyes. “Jesus, you are fucking phenomenal. Never in my life have I had sex that good.” Remaining seated inside you, he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up the bed until your head rests on the pillows.

“Me neither.” You whisper, when you get situated. You kiss him again, wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing him to melt into you. He pulls out of you a few moments later, letting his come ooze out of your pussy like it did last night. You give him full control as he pulls your legs together and manoeuvres them so you’re laying on your side while he climbs behind you.

He runs the tip of his softening cock along your ass where his come runs down, and bends the leg on top to open you up as he pushes his release back into your pussy. You gasp, your pussy tender and used but you eagerly welcome him anyway.

He sheathes himself inside you again before letting your leg come back down, making your pussy tighter. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, your back to his chest, every inch of your body pressed tight against his.

“Mm, think I’ll stay right here until we’re ready for round 2. Keep my come and my cock nice and warm inside you. What do you say?” He kisses your shoulder.

“Round 2?” You whisper raggedly.

“I told you we had all night. And I just can’t get enough of you and this body. So yes, round 2, maybe round 3.”

“Jesus. I don’t know if I can handle that.” You chuckle.

“Oh you can. You’re so good to Daddy, but sleep for now. I’m not through with you yet.”

———

< Prev | Next >

Tags: @ssajohotchner @philosophical-sl0ven @therealfaefyre @thealoofmystery @g-l-pierce @ssahotchsbitch @sleepyreaderreads @ssahotchnerxx @honeyedheartss @skyler666 @azenpal @angelfxllcm @anetoupekelly @laisy @gothicxbarbie @usemelucifer @mijop @jasmine-galaxies @hotchnersgirlfriend @angelhotchner @h0tch-r0cket

#amber!#aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #arsonhotchnerreads

2K notes · View notes

nathanbatemanfucker · 3 years ago

Text

AHHHHH MORGAN! so proud of you babes, this was great!

Teachers Pet - Part 3

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Parings: Aaron Hotchner x (fem!)reader

Word Count: 4k; y'all I got carried away.

Tags: 18+ NSFW, Role play, Spit kink, Dom/sub, Professor-kink, Spanking, Sir kink, Degradation, Dirty talk, Language, Oral (both m/f receiving), Unprotected sex

Summary: A certain unit chief helps bring reader's fantasy to life.

Authors Note: Oh I think you know where this is going ;) Please let me know what you all think! And thank you so much for all of the support and encouragement! I love all of you!

Again, this is my first smutty fanfic and I still have absolutely no clue what I'm doing. Please, please be nice! Credits again go to the lovely Elle (@scuttling) for proofreading for me. ❤️Happy reading (:

Part 1

Part 2

“Thank you for meeting me so late, Professor Hotchner,” you say, walking into his office while closing (and locking) the door behind you.

“It’s not a problem, Y/n. How can I help you?” he asks looking up from his paperwork. With eyes focused on you, he motions to sit across from him.

Clearing your throat and taking a seat, you begin. “I um, just have a couple of questions about this case you gave us for the take home test, sir.”

Sitting back in his chair, he crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at you.

“You know I can’t help you with that, Y/n. As much as I would love to, it’s a test for a reason. I need to see what you know.”

His expression is unreadable and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he is serious. Damn he’s good. Glancing down at the file in your hands, you bite your lip and look up at him through your lashes.

“Please, Professor Hotchner? I'll do anything for your help… anything,” you say, batting your eyelashes.

Standing from his chair, he walks over to you. “Anything?” He hums, lifting your chin to look at him. “Tell me, Is that the only reason you asked to meet in my office this late at night, Y/n?”

Clenching your legs together, you feel a shiver of arousal go down your spine.

“Yes, sir.”

Lifting his thumb onto your lip, his voice darkens. “Are you lying to me, Y/n? If you are, there will be consequences, so I would be honest if I were you.”

“Sir, um, I- I-”

Leaning in closer he interrupts, “What, cat got your tongue, Ms. Y/n? Are you wanting me so bad that you can’t even speak?,” he mocks.

Your eyes grow wide at that.

Smirking he says “Oh that got a reaction out of you didn’t it, little one? You don’t think I see the way you look at me in class everyday? The way you strip me with your eyes when I’m walking around the classroom?” Hovering his lips over yours, he continues. “Or how about with one glance, I can tell that you will do anything to get that pretty little mouth of yours around my cock? Is that why you need help? Hmm? Is your mind so full of my cock that you can’t think about anything else? You think I don’t notice, but I do. I notice everything about you, baby.” Letting go of your face he says, “Now stand up.”

You quickly oblige, sitting the files down on his desk, when suddenly he’s grabbing you by the neck, slamming his lips against yours in a ferece, hot kiss. The taste of his lips, the taste of his tongue, the taste of him- coffee with a hint of sweetness- is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before; and now that you’ve tasted him once, you don’t ever want to stop. Breaking the kiss, you breathe hard, smile, and bite your lip. His eyes grow dark as he presses his growing cock against you and spreads your legs open.

Grabbing a handful of your hair, he yanks it back to gain access to the base of your neck. Kissing and biting at the bottom of your neck, he works his way up to your earlobe and growls, his hot breath against it. “You want me to fuck you against my desk, Ms. Y/n?,” he asks.

With knees growing weak by the second, you close your eyes and try to catch your breath. Grabbing the ruler he had earlier, he brutally smacks your ass with it, forcing a yelp to fall from your lips.

“I am talking to you, Y/n,” he mumbles against your skin. The vibrations of his husky voice across your throat cause a whimper to slip past your lips.

“Yes. Yes, Hotch,” you moan.

“Address me properly, you fucking brat,” he barks, allowing yet another loud smack to resonate against the room as he hits your ass again.

Crying out at the impact, it only makes you ache for him more. As the heat pools between your legs, you can already feel your arousal start to trickle down your thigh. “Yes, sir,” you breathe.

“Good girl- now, kneel.”

Watching you immediately drop down to your knees in front of him, he looks down and chuckles darkly. “You’ll do anything I say as long as it gets my dick in your mouth, won’t you, Little One? Hmm? Is this what you wanted?,” he asks as he taps the side of your face with his palm. “To be on your knees in front of me, begging me to fuck that tight little pussy of yours?”

“Yes sir” you whimper.

The side of his mouth twitches. “Awww look at you, so pitiful on your knees in front of me. Are you doing everything I say just so you might get what you want? Is that why you can’t concentrate in my class? Hmm? Because you’re too busy thinking about my cock in your mouth?”

With glossed over eyes, you look up at him through your lashes, “Yes, Professor.”

Raising his eyebrows he replies, “Then show me, little one. Show me how badly you want my cock shoved down your throat. I want to hear you-- I want to hear you beg me to put my cock in your mouth.”

“Please, sir. Please!”

Clicking his tongue and crossing his arms, his voice darkens, “Oh Princess you’re going to have to do better than that. I know you can.”

Squirming around trying to gain some friction, you whine, “I want you so bad, Professor Hotchner. Please let me suck your cock, sir. I’ll be a good girl. Your good girl, sir. I promise.”

Smirking, he bends down and strokes your cheek. “My good girl, huh? Well, open wide, baby,” Placing his hand at the nape of your neck, he pulls your hair as tears start to cloud your eyes. “You are going to swallow everything I give you, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, desperately nodding your head. Licking your lips, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, making eye contact. His gaze is harsh- almost angry, as he rolls his tongue collecting spit, and spills it in your mouth; slick, warm, and wet, it’s everything you didn’t know you needed. Still looking up at him, you present him with your tongue.

“Swallow, baby,” he says, taking his hand out of your hair- and you do, without missing a beat. Knowing how good he tastes in your mouth makes you shiver with want. You want more, you need more. Eyeing the growing bulge in his pants, you try and reach for his belt, but he places his hand over yours to stop you.

“Such an impatient little slut, aren't you?,” he asks as he sheds himself of his suit jacket, tossing it onto the desk. Watching him unclasp his belt and unzip his pants, your eyes grow wide with anticipation, and he grins slyly; you lick your lips- eyeing him from his now hard, leaking cock, back to his face. His gaze is fixed on you, like fire burning into your soul; suddenly, your throat goes dry- feeling uncomfortably bare.

“Color?,” he asks, still staring at you, and you whimper.

“Words, little girl. Use your words.”

“Green! Green, please, sir,” you confirm a little too eagerly.

“Good girl,” he smirks, before placing himself at the tip of your lips. Meeting his eyes, you take him in your hand before spitting on his cock and slowly stroking him. The groan that falls from his lips is like music to your ears, and if you weren't already wet before, you sure as hell were now. Running your tongue under the base of his cock up to the tip, you wrap your lips around him- swirling your tongue and slowly putting as much of him in your mouth as possible.

Tossing his head back, he holds your hair in a makeshift ponytail. “Oh god. That’s it baby,” he breathes with a groan, “You look beautiful sucking my cock, kitten. So incredibly beautiful.” Moaning at his words, you start to bob your head faster, causing his hand to tighten in your hair. Hollowing out your cheeks and swirling your tongue around him, you suck tightly. Groaning, he starts to buck his hips causing you to gag. “You can take all of me baby, I know you can. Just relax,” he says, thrusting deeper inside your mouth.

His breathing is labored and even though his head is tilted back, you can see the sweat on his face shining under the lights-- and oh is it a beautiful sight. With burning lungs, you try to breathe through your nose, taking him even deeper than before. “Just like that kitten, oh god just like that,” he grunts as your nose touches his stomach. Taking him out of your mouth, a trail of spit connects his cock with your lips. Biting your lip and looking up at him, he only gives you a few seconds before grabbing your face and slamming his entire cock back down your throat. With tears prickling at the corner of your eyes, and his hand still in your hair, you begin to feel him twitch. As little praises fall off of his lips with each thrust, you find yourself clenching around nothing- turned on beyond measure - and yearning to do whatever it takes to relieve some of the ache in your pussy.

Spilling inside your mouth, he finds his first orgasm. Tasting his salty release, you open your mouth to show him before several droplets spill out of your mouth, running down the side of your chin.

“Swallow it all, little one.” he orders, as he takes the drops on your chin with his finger, and shoves them back inside your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his release, you eye him and moan, earning you a shiver.

Pulling you up off of your knees, he soft lips meet yours in a warm, wet kiss. Tasting himself on you, he tucks your hair behind your ear and grins. “You did so well for me, baby. I knew you could take it all, you filthy little thing.”

Still trying to catch your breath and beginning to feel a little fuzzy, you respond, “Yes, sir. I can take all you give me. I’ll be your good girl, sir.”

“I know you can, baby. I know you can,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

Hands finding the tie at his neck, you grab it and bring him down for another fervent kiss- loosening it and throwing it behind you on the desk. As you fumble with the buttons of his shirt, he chuckles, putting his hands over yours and does it himself, working with you to take it off. Tossing it to the side, you sink to push his pants the rest of the way down his legs.

As you rise to your feet, he maintains eye contact, kneels down in front of you, and toys with the bottom hem of your dress between his fingers. Lifting the dress up your body, his mouth finds your soft skin beneath it- kissing his way up your figure until you’re trembling under his touch. Lifting your arms, he takes the dress off and discards it somewhere behind him. As he bites warm, wet kisses into your neck, you wrap your arms around his neck. Throwing your head back, suddenly you find yourself hoisted up by strong arms, and onto the desk.

As Aaron Hotchner- your Unit Chief that you have been fantasizing about for months- stands naked before you, any coherent thoughts you have are thrown completely out the window.

Standing back with his arms at your waist, he drinks you in: panting, with red marks littering your figure, swollen lips, and smudged mascara-- you look beautifully wrecked and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Squirming with arousal under his gaze, your lip quivers and you whimper. Reaching out to touch him, craving any ounce of him he will give you, he stops you. “Ah, ah… no touching, little one- not yet,” he says, holding your hands in his. His lips travel both wrists, up your arm, to your neck, leaving hot, messy kisses in their wake. Biting down on your jugular, he soothes it with his tongue, and it sends a mixture of pain and pleasure straight to your core.

You crave the feeling of his skin beneath yours- touching, gripping, kissing him, but you know the consequences will be harsh if you do. Taking a deep breath, you place both hands behind you on the desk and arch into him- giving him full access to press open mouthed kisses into your neck and chest. Groaning, he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, swirls his tongue around it, and tugs- sending shock waves straight to your soaked heat. Letting out a throating moan, you arch your back into him more, grinding your warm, wet pussy involuntary against his body.

“Lean back, baby,” he growls against your skin, making his way down the rest of your body. As you prop yourself up on your forearms, he kneels. Spreading your legs apart and licking his lips, he kisses up your inner thighs- leaving a trail of red marks behind that will, inevitably, turn into tomorrow's bruises. Pulling you to the edge of the desk, he positions your legs over his shoulders and drags his nose over your pussy, inhaling deeply.

“Mmmmmm, you smell so good, kitten,” he growls into your underwear, playing with the sides of your thong. As he drags it down your legs, you shiver- goosebumps erupting on your skin. Opening your legs once more, he takes a long slow lick up your dripping cunt as curses start to fall from your lips like a mantra.

With his hands under your ass, he squeezes and lets out a guttural moan. “Mmm, sweetheart you taste delicious,” he groans into your folds.

Squeezing the sides of the desk with white knuckles, small, needy whimpers fall from your throat as you roll your hips, trying to gain more friction from him.

Holding your hips down with one arm, he moans into your slick folds, causing curses and praise to be ripped from somewhere deep inside of you. Lapping you with his tongue, he swirls it around your already sensitive bud; closing his mouth, he flicks it and sucks- hard.

“Mmm just like that, oh god just like that,” you pant, “oh fuck. Oh right there, oh!” That was it, you couldn't take it any longer. Grabbing him by his thick, raven colored hair, you grind hard on his face- using him as your own personal fuck-toy. Bringing your head and shoulders up off of the desk, you pull in and tighten your legs around his head. He groans and presses his face deeper into your skin, causing you to fall over the edge- sinful, dirty, sounds coming from deep within your throat.

Roughly flipping you over, he grabs your hair and pulls you flush against his chest. With a harsh slap to your ass, his voice turns dark- it’s no longer Hotch speaking to you, but SSA Hotchner, Unit Chief.

“You can’t follow a single order I give, can you, brat? What did I tell you about touching me, hmm?”

Feeling fuzzy and still in a daze, you whine, “Th-that there would be consequences, s-sir. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, sir.” Tears welling up in your eyes, you begin to babble. “I needed you so bad! P-please please profesor, please I’ll be good I swear. ”

Gripping hard at your hip with his hand still in your hair, he chuckles darkly in your ear. “I don’t think a needy whore like you can be good, baby. I'm going to have to teach you a lesson now. Here’s what’s going to happen, I’m going to spank you, and you’re going to count. I’m going to give you ten, okay? Five for touching me, and another five for coming without permission. Maybe punishment will teach you to follow the orders that you're given, sweetheart.”

Biting your neck he rasps, “Do I make myself clear?”

Your pussy- now overstimulated and dripping with arousal- pulses at the thought as his hard cock pushes against your ass. Forcefully pushing your head onto the desk, you let out a whine, “Y-yes, professor. I understand.”

“Good girl,” he hums, spreading your legs with his foot. Rubbing your bare ass with his hand, you brace yourself for impact. Raising his hand up, he brings it back down with force, causing a sharp sting on land on your bottom and making you gasp in surprise.

“O-one, sir,” you whimper, gasping as another loud smack comes down on you.

“Oh god, t-two, sir,” you croak, wriggling your ass against him and starting to feel the slickness drip down your thighs.

“Stop moving, baby or I’m going to have to start over, and we wouldn’t want that would we?”

“N-no, sir. I want to be good for you, sir.”

He hums, slapping the other cheek with force.

Feeling this overwhelming urge to give him everything you have, you sob, “Three, sir, thank you. I deserve this and I won’t disobey you again, sir.”

“There you go, just like that, sweetheart,” he says. And he does it again, all ten times- each one harder than the previous- until there are tears streaming down your face and a cracked moan falling from your lips. Pulling you up from the desk, he wipes the tears with his thumb and kisses both cheeks.

“Please,” you sniffle, “I need you, professor. I promise I’ll be good.”

“You have me sweetheart. You were so good for me. Come here.” He pulls you in for a kiss, hot, wet, with teeth and tongue- it’s one that makes him groan.

“Color,?” he asks, pulling back and peering down at you.

Still sniffling you reply, “Green, s-sir.”

“That’s my good girl,” he smirks, and you find yourself being bent over the desk for the second time that night.

The sudden cold surface beneath your damp skin makes you gasp. As his hard cock leaks with precum, Hotch presses soft, gentle kisses down your back before sheathing himself all the way in your tight, dripping pussy.

With a sharp inhale, you moan, “Oh fuck, Hotch!”

Dragging you up by your hair, he pulls you to his chest. “Address me properly, kitten,” he instructs lowly.

“Sir, fuck! Oh god your cock- so big and thick, sir. Oh! You fill me up so good. Please sir, please.” You moan, breathless, desperate for more.

Putting his hand around your neck, and kissing your throat he asks, “Please, what? What do you want, little girl?”

“Please move, sir. Please, please fuck me. I wanna feel you, sir. I wanna cum on you so bad, oh god you feel so good. Mmmm,” you say, wiggling against him. Pushing your chest back down onto the desk, he grabs the back of your neck, holds you down, smirks, and pounds into you ferociously.

“Fuck, sir. Please oh god!,” you whine, raising your ass in the air trying to take him more deeply.

“Fuck, sweetheart. This isnt enough for you?” he moans. His pace is relentless, his thrusts sloppy as he tries to hold himself back from spilling inside of you. “You’re that big of a slut for me that you need more of my cock? Is that it, baby?

You whine, “Yes, oh god yes. I want to come all over your hard cock, sir. Please!”

Pulling you up by your neck, he puts his other hand on your breast, rubbing your nipple in between his fingers, and begins to fuck harder. “Do me a favor, kitten. I want you to touch yourself- just like you did last night to the thought of me,” he groans.

With eyes growing wide, you throw your head back against his shoulder and let out a loud moan. Dropping your hand down to your incredibly sensitive pussy, you rub your clit in fast, tight circles. Feeling yourself clench around him again, your moans turn to whines as you thrust back into him.

“Fuck, Y/n, you feel so perfect. So good for me. Who owns this pussy, baby? Hmm? Whose is it?,” he asks through a breathy groan.

“Yours, sir! You own this pussy. I’m yours, only yours. Please, please let me cum. I need your cum, sir. Please…” you babble.

Moving his hands down to your sore ass, he tightens his grip and fucks you deeper, harder than before. Tugging on his hair with your other hand, you bring his mouth to your neck and clench around him, making him curse under his breath as you both collapse on the desk; for the second time that day, you become completely undone beneath him.

Still fully sheathed inside of your tender cunt, he gives you no time to recover. Flipping you over, he fucks you hard, like he is a predator going after prey, desperate for you to fall apart on his cock. Gazing up at him with glossy eyes and tear stained cheeks, you weep.

“S-sir, I can’t. I can’t come again. Please don’t make me, it hurts.

With a tightened jaw, he scowls, and wraps a hand around your throat.

“Too much for you, kitten?,” he asks mockingly, “I’m just giving you what you wanted, baby. You got your wish so, you’re Not. Going. To. Stop. Until. I. Say,” he says, thrusting with each word. “Is that understood?”

“But Sirrrr,” you cry, feeling his fingers constrict around your throat and press harder into your thigh.

Fucking into you, his thrusts are unrelenting as he groans. “Mmmm no buts, baby. You said it yourself,” he says slapping your pussy with his fingers, “this pussy is mine and only mine. I own it, so I suggest you do what I say.”

“Yes, sir, please, please make me cum. I need your cum, sir. I need it dripping out of me, please!,” you beg bucking against him, chasing your own release. Withering and moaning, he feels you tighten around him and groans, fucking you harder to push you over the edge. He moves his other hand down to your clit and your back arches, coming longer and harder than the other two he had previously given you. Gripping your hips, his body trembles and he falls over the edge as well- breathless and sweaty- collapsing on top of you.

After a few minutes, he stands up, helps you walk to his chair and sits down, curling you onto his lap. Nuzzling your head into his shoulder, you sigh.

“How are you feeling, Y/n? I wasn’t too hard on you was I?”

“No, Hotch you weren’t, it was wonderful. The best sex of my life, actually. I just got a little fuzzy that’s all. Can we stay here for a little while longer? I want to cuddle and don’t really want to leave just yet.”

Kissing the top of your head, he wraps his arms around you and replies,

“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

Humming into his chest, you take a deep breath inhaling his scent and wrap your arms around his waist. Staying that way for about ten minutes, you get up to find the clothes that were scattered about in the office.

Putting on your dress and underwear, you look up to see that, apart from his jacket and tie, he is fully clothed.

He feels eyes on him as ties the knot; turning around, he smiles and raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, Y/n?”

With one hand on the doorknob, you giggle and look down at the floor. Looking back up and cleaning your throat, you meet his eyes. “I, um. I just had a question. Ho- how did you know?”

“What, that you touched yourself to the thought of me last night?,” he asks, walking toward the door.

“Yeah. Yeah, h-how did you know that?,” you ask, averting your eyes from him.

Placing a warm hand under your chin, he tilts it up to look at you, and brings you in for a soft kiss. “What can I say, Y/n? I’m good at my job,” he says, winking at you, and proceeds out the door.

Wait, what?

Running after him, you catch up and stop him before he walks outside.

Chuckling he says, “Y/n, I wasn’t going to leave you here, we rode together, you didn’t have to run.”

“No, it’s not that, Hotch. Just.. really? How did you know?! And don’t give me that “oh because I'm good at my job” bullshit either, Aaron. You can’t pr-,” before you could finish your sentence he kisses you deeply, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Breathing hard, he leans in and whispers in your ear, “.. because, Y/n, I thought of you last night too.”

tagging: @wishuhadstayed, @angelic-kisses13, @scuttling, @hotforhotchner11, @unicornprancing, @arsonhotchner, @ashhotchner, @ssahotchsbitch, @haley-h0tchner, @heliotropehotch, @doctorstethoscope, @rexit-mo

if you are 18+ and would like to be added to my taglist, shoot me a message!(:

#morgan!#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch x y/n #hotch x you #teachers pet #arsonhotchnerreads

1K notes · View notes

nathanbatemanfucker · 3 years ago

Text

yall definitely need to read this, I just devoured the ENTIRE thing.

The Right Masterlist || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader series

Updated 7/10/21

This fic updates on Tuesdays and Saturdays. To be added to the taglist, please send me an ask or message!

* DENOTES SMUT, MINORS DNI

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen*

#allison!#criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #arsonhotchnerreads

461 notes · View notes

nathanbatemanfucker · 3 years ago

Text

mimi i have one question…what the fuck? 🤠

Chapter 4: Communiqué

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau

Words: 3K

Chapter Summary: After being particularly uncooperative, the team tries to get you to make a statement on your whereabouts during the murders

Warnings: some angst and sadness, fighting, frustrated Hotch

A/N: Just gonna apologize in advance for this one. [And a little side note! Whenever the chapter name comes from a song title or lyrics I'll add the link so you can listen to it, sometimes they inspired what I wrote for each chapter :)]

Communiqué | Dire Straits - Masterlist - Taglist - AO3 Link

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The next morning when you woke up you were dragged again to the interrogation room where someone was already waiting for you.

Expecting it to be Hotch your heart was put to ease, but as soon as you walked in you discovered that wasn't the case. Sitting on the other end of the table, although it was fuzzy, was a man who looked vaguely familiar, you couldn't really place from where at the moment.

His black hair with a few strands of grey here and there was combed back neatly and he had a well-trimmed goatee.

You sat down and Lorraine undid your cuffs and left the room so it was just the two of you. The other man didn't say a word, only looking intensely at you until you raised a brow at him. At least you were expecting some sort of introduction.

"SSA Dave Rossi," he said simply. "I'm with the FBI,"

"Another profiler," you nodded. "Trying to see if I'm psycho?" you joked, only attempting to lighten the mood for yourself.

"Where were you on the days of the murders,"

"You know I have the right to an attorney, can I call him?" you asked.

"He's currently being contacted, now where were you the night of the first murder,"

Morgan, Emily, and JJ were watching the scene unfold in front of them and noticed how immediately closed off you were with Rossi compared to Hotch.

"Maybe try a little harder to gain her trust," Morgan said through his earpiece.

"She knows Hotch, you can use that to your advantage,"

Good for them because you were just about to bring him up.

"Where's Aaron? He said he would be here today," you asked and Rossi shook his head.

"Not here yet, which is why I'm talking to you," he explained. "You've known him a while?" Rossi asked and you nodded. Any information not pertaining to the case you were open to giving. "How long?"

"Since the tenth grade," you said. "First day of the fall semester,"

"You kept in touch after he moved,"

You shook your head. "Not much of a letter writer, plus we were both in law school after we got our bachelors, doubt we would have had time for that,"

Rossi nodded, following your words, studying you carefully.

You were placed quite literally in front of him but you didn't lean away. Your arms rested on the table and you eyed him with the same curiosity he did you.

"What have you told the other people who have interrogated you?' Rossi asked.

"Isn't that in your files?" you asked, tilting your head and moving your hair out of your face.

"I got here late last night, humour me," he shrugged.

"I've only said that I'm not guilty," you said simply. Then you leaned in slightly, looking at him from across the table. "I did not kill those women. I did not kill my best friend. I did not kill my high school teacher and I did not kill my ex-fiance's wife," you said firmly.

"Then why aren't you telling me where the hell you were if you're oh so innocent, you know what that tells me?" he leaned in to meet you closer. "That tells me you're hiding something and you can be goddamned sure I'll find it,"

"Do your worst Dave,"

"Your relationships," he said. "With the victims, you're gonna tell me each one, in detail,"

"Now why would I do that?" you asked, now you were just being difficult, but you felt as if you had earned that right. The police had never been the type to help your family, not in this town at least.

"Because when Aaron gets here he's just going to ask the same questions and it's gonna save us a lot of time and we both know when Aaron asks you something it's hard not to tell him, no? You just fall into old habits and patterns,"

He got you there. It was quite true. If Aaron came in right that minute and asked you the same question you were more than likely to tell him the entire story, in detail.

So, just like he said, you got to telling him, to save some time.

"Who first," you said, settling into your seat, staring at the glass behind, wondering who was looking in on the scene.

"Start with the teacher," he said. "Did you have a good relationship with her,"

"After high school, I had no relationship with her," you said honestly. "But in school, it wasn't good. I was new to town, she always singled me out, bullied me in front of the class on multiple occasions,"

"So you had a reason to dislike her,"

"Yes but my mother raised me right so I respected her as a student should and the second I didn't have to interact with her I didn't,"

"What about this here," he said pointing to a report and pushing it in front of you. You recognized it as the time she had called you in to report you for allegedly stealing her purse which was never found.

"All those charges were dropped," you said flatly. "It happened in my junior year, she just got robbed and I was the first person to blame in her head,"

"And you have an alibi for that?" he asked and you nodded.

"I was looking after my younger siblings at home," you explained. "Maria was seven, Noah was ten, and Sophia was twelve,"

"You remember that in a lot of detail," he said.

"I've had to tell the story before," you shrugged.

"How about the one who married your ex-fiance you said?"

"Nessa?" you raised your brows in a knowing manner and nodded. "I'm not sure if friends is the right word for us, we travel in the same circles," you offered. "She and Matt-,"

"The ex-fiance?"

"Yeah, they were sleeping together behind my back ever since the engagement, Matt kept pushing the wedding and Caroline thought something might be up,"

"Caroline as in Caroline Davidson?"

You nodded again, "I found out shortly after and Matt and I broke off the engagement and now he's married to her," you paused a minute, frowning at your choice of words. "Was... he was married to her,"

"And the last one, Caroline,"

You thought you would be ready to speak about her, but it was still fresh. You had barely had any time to process her death let alone grieve the fact that she was gone, you wouldn't see her again. And the first thing that came from it? You were accused of killing her.

You must have been silent for a while because Rossi was staring at you curiously.

"Sorry," you whispered. "Caroline is," you cringed at the mistake once more. "Was my best friend,"

"Oh," Rossi seemed a little surprised. Given the fact that the other victims had been people you could have very well had a motive to kill, this was different. He could sense the genuineness of your grief.

"We had known each other since I moved here, she lived next door to Aaron," you explained. "We did everything together, even up until now, dinner once a week, we'd get lunches together on occasions, literally the works," you chuckled lightly to yourself. "There's not much to do in Manassas, but we made by with each other's company,"

"Do you miss her?"

What kind of question was that? Do you miss her? Of course, you did. More than you thought it was physically possible to miss her.

"Y-," your voice was caught in your throat as the tears started to build in your eyes, pouring down your face, you nodded, sobs wracking your body. "Y-Yes," you nodded again. "I m-miss her so much and i-it hasn't even been a d-day,"

Rossi nodded and stood up, stopping when she was next to you and offering you a gentle pat on the shoulder before leaving the room to see a very upset-looking Hotch giving Emily and Morgan a firm talking-to.

"What was that?" he asked, his voice that low frustrated gravel it could get when he was mad. "In case you've forgotten I'm the lead on this case and I didn't approve this," he motioned to the room. Quickly stepping inside to see what had happened through the glass, Hotch seemed to be even more furious, almost protective. "You made her cry? Dave, I was working to get her to tell me what happened!"

"She won't do that," Rossi shook his head. "I can guarantee she won't tell you what happened during the murders,"

"How can you be so sure?" it was Morgan to speak up now.

"A feeling," Rossi said simply.

"Well we can't just go off that," Emily sighed. "Hotch, why don't you let Morgan and I talk to her," she suggested. "Look I know you're upset, we went behind your back and you have every right to be mad, but just let us try. You can supervise the whole thing from in there and pull us out if you think it's too much,"

Hotch debated this for a moment, maybe it was a good idea. Emily and Morgan were younger, each had faced their own types of adversity, maybe they could relate in a way, maybe that would get you to open up.

"Fine," he said, taking a deep breath and waving his hand for them to go. "Where are Reid and JJ?"

"Talking to the families," Rossi answered. "Figured you would get them to do that anyway, they went with officer Barnes,"

Lorraine, that was a good choice.

"Okay," Hotch said. "Morgan, Prentiss, be gentle right now, maybe bring her a box of tissues," he suggested and they nodded while the Unit Chief went to grab himself a cup of coffee.

Once Hotch came into the back room with Rossi Emily and Morgan had just entered the room, placing a box of tissues in front of you.

Morgan took the seat while Emily sat on the side of the table.

"Is it worth even asking?" you asked after thanking them for the tissues. "BAU?"

"Yeah," Emily confirmed.

"Have I met everyone on your team yet? Or are there more?"

"Three more," Morgan said, "A communications and media coordinator, another profiler, and a tech analyst,"

You sniffed, blowing your nose and wiping away the remainder of your tears.

Hotch could tell what was going on in their heads, they were going to work around the explicit question before trying to get an answer for it, less head-on, developing trust first before going in.

"Can I ask for your names before we start whatever's coming?" you asked.

"Of course, I'm Emily,"

"And I'm Derek,"

"I'm guessing you already know mine," you said, quite nonchalantly.

"Yeah, Hotch told us,"

"Hotch," you chuckled to yourself. "That sounds so big and serious. But then again Aaron was always big and serious,"

"Really?" Emily asked and Morgan nudged her to try and stay on topic. "Right, sorry," she apologized with a faint laugh of her own.

"We were wondering if you might be able to tell us a bit more about what you might have thought happened,"

That was odd, normally that wasn't the route of questioning taken... at all, ever in the history of questioning. Unless it was sarcastic of course.

"R-Really?" you said, not entirely convinced.

"Well if you can't tell us what happened, or don't want to, could you at least share what you think happened?"

"Umm," you thought about it for a moment, "Well clearly this is causing me a lot of grief," you said. "Maybe someone is trying to frame me, to get back at me for something? I don't know,"

"Do you know of any enemies you might have?" Emily asked.

"In this town? I don't know about enemies," you said honestly. "Yes I didn't always get along with a decent amount of people, but that happens when you're an outsider in a smaller town and in a cliquey neighbourhood at that,"

"So no enemies?" Morgan confirmed.

"I'll have to think about it, it's not really something I choose to bring to the front of my mind,"

"Of course," Emily nodded in understanding.

"Can I ask you a question?"

The two looked at each other and shrugged.

"I don't see why not," Morgan answered.

"Do you think I did this?"

That caught them off guard.

"I'm a lawyer in my thirties, I've lived in this town since I was thirteen, squeaky clean record, even after all the shit that's happened to me. Why would I pick now to kill these people? And why would I kill my best friend while I was at it? Does that make any sort of sense to you?"

You brought up a good point. Why would you have waited this long? And take the life of someone you loved in the process.

"No," Morgan finally said. "It doesn't make sense, but that's why we're here. We make sense of why people do these unspeakable things and if you're not the person who did it then-,"

"I should trust the system right?" you nodded almost in disbelief. "Here, the system is Captain Reilly and whatever he has led the other people in the town to think, so forgive me if I don't trust that,"

"But can you trust us to get to the truth?" Emily asked.

"I don't know... we'll see,"

"And there's no way you're going to tell us what happened the day of the murders?"

"I've been trying to contact my attorney. I would like to consult him first," you repeated, but at this point, you weren't even sure what the point was. Even your lawyer was flaking on you.

"Look what could be so bad that you just don't wanna tell us?" Morgan asked. "You don't have to think the police out there are here to help you but we are," he pointed to himself and Emily. "If you didn't do it then where were you at the time of the murders?"

You leaned back in your chair. Silence echoed against the walls of the room.

Morgan threw up his hands, out of ideas and Emily tapped his shoulder motioning that they should leave.

The room was empty once again.

Back outside, Hotch was growing tired, he had never met someone so unwilling to tell the police their alibi, it made zero sense, but then again, neither did anything else apparently.

He sipped deeply from his coffee cup, the other agents chatting around him and exchanging information with some of the officers.

JJ and Reid had just returned and started a small brief on what they had learnt from the victims' families.

"I think I should go in there again," Hotch said finally after all was said and done.

"Hotch-,"

"No, I'm not taking any suggestions on this," he shook his head.

He wasn't sure why, but something in his gut told him that once he had his go at asking you, you would be ready to talk.

"What makes you think she'll open up?" Morgan asked. "Rossi went, well all Rossi on her, Em and I did the opposite, and we all came out with squat on what happened those three days,"

"That's the problem," he shook his head. "You're not me,"

They stared at him quizzically and he elaborated.

"I don't mean that as I'm a better profiler or could crack an unsub better," he confirmed. "Just in this particular case...she's waiting for me,"

"We'll be my guest," Morgan shrugged and Hotch nodded, placing his cup on the table and grabbing the keys to the interrogation room.

When he opened the door and you saw him come in, you finally relaxed a little, pulling the sleeves of your sweater and wrapping your arms around your legs that were curled up against you.

"Sleep well?" he asked, quick with the formalities as usual.

"I've had better nights," you admitted.

You were waiting for him to take a seat across from you but he didn't, standing in one of the back corners, leaning against the wall.

"Why are you being so secretive," he spat out finally. "You said so yourself there's nothing to fear and yet you keep moving away at every chance you get,"

"Aaron it's not that simple-,"

"Don't you think I know that?" he stressed.

Not we, I.

"It's murder (Y/N), this is the lives of three people that were taken from them, this is potentially your own life on the line why aren't you saying anything?"

Now it didn't seem like an agent was talking to you. This was your friend, your concerned friend and seemingly the only person in the whole world looking out for you to that extent.

With the way he spoke you wondered if he was putting his job on the line, sticking his neck out for you and adamantly believing your innocence.

"I already told you, Aaron, I want to speak to my lawyer," you said firmly. "That's my right,"

"Forget about a goddamn lawyer," he waved his hand, coming to the table and leaning across from you. "I'm a lawyer (Y/N), a prosecutor and a good one too, you know that," his voice was lower than before, almost like he didn't want anyone else to hear what he was saying. "You want legal advice? Tell me where the hell you were so I can get you out of here,"

"Aaron stop it,"

"No, you stop!" he shook his head. "Can you even hear yourself you sound ridiculous, if it was just you maybe I would let this charade go on, but you have people (N/N)," the nickname slipped so easily from his lips and your heart clenched at the sound of it. "You have a family who cares deeply about you and if you're innocent you need to go home to them,"

"Aaron I can't-,"

"(Y/N) please stop fighting with me!" he begged. "Just say it! Say where you were!"

"Alright!" you shot up out of your seat, hands slamming into the table. "You wanna know where I was? I don't know,"

If you enjoyed this fic please consider commenting or reblogging! It's the best way to give creators motivation and exposure!

criminal minds:

@wifenumberfour @hotchnerundercover @disgruntledchowchow @itsalonglongwaytobasingse @pachiibatt @calm-thy-breasts @g1nnyslove @jfklms @ijustwannaread2k19 @michelle9-433 @zheezs14 @obviousoasis @mintphoenix @penceyspells

aaron hothcner:

@ssaic-jareau @84hotpockets @wanniiieeee @enjoymyloves @yoshigguk @kleff03 @witch-with-wifi @justreadingficsdontmindme @bakugouswh0r3 @ssavanessa22 @papiazullll8 @aashy723 @becausehello @carolinesbookworld @rexit-mo @tbuhgs @averyhotchner @enilledam @zetasaturno99 @coralsweetsharmony @thenewnormalforensicator @g0lden-cth @ssamorganhotchner @vvenus-devi @seelieseeking

love me in spite:

@ay0nha @harrypotteranna23-blog

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner one shot #arsonhotchnerreads #mimi my sweet demented bestie 🦚

242 notes · View notes

nathanbatemanfucker · 3 years ago

Text

I know I’m a Hotch account but read this shit or else!

Strawberry Kisses Masterlist

After running into a certain doctor in the office, Y/n falls hard and fast for Spender Reid. Fate seems to want them to be apart, however. Can their budding romance survive the tests of the universe?

warnings: graphic smut, canon-typical violence, guns, blood, mentions of death, mentions of drug use, mentions of suicide, 18+, minors dni

chapters posted every monday, wednesday, and friday

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

chapter 26

chapter 27

chapter 28

chapter 29

chapter 30

chapter 31

chapter 32

chapter 33

chapter 34

#lovelybucky1!#spencer reid x reader #arsonhotchnerreads

285 notes · View notes

nathanbatemanfucker · 3 years ago

Text

I- oh my GOD, this was 🥵🥵🥵

Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you��re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream

#Elle my softie!#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #arsonhotchnerreads

486 notes · View notes

nathanbatemanfucker · 3 years ago

Text

thank you sm for writing this and being open, it was amazing as always my friend💚

hold onto me 'cause I'm a little unsteady

Word Count: 2047

Summary: Y/N's OCD is triggered while on a case and Hotch is there to help.

Characters: Hotch x GN!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, description of a panic attack, reader suffers from OCD, description of a pretty gross house, emotional hurt/comfort

A/N: Yeah so I'll be honest I'm not entirely sure what this is. It's really just a vent piece I guess, everything included in this is really just my own personal experience and probably isn't accurate for everyone. I'm not even sure if this will appeal to many people but I thought I'd post it for those who may want to read it :)

Prompt(s): "I don't care if I don't get any sleep tonight. As long as I can be there for you."

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

Masterlist

This was the worst place you'd had to search in a while, maybe not the worst on the scale of mentally scarring unsub torture houses you'd dug through but the worst in the terms of filth. It became apparent the second you walked in that keeping his house clean was not at the top of this unsubs list. There was a thick layer of dust across every surface and a mountain of plates, glasses and take away containers had been left out to mould in most rooms, the worst of it concentrated in the kitchen.

The feeling of uneasiness crept into your chest as you made your way around, conscious of your movements as you tried your best not to touch off anything. The field was no place for your anxieties and you always did your best to keep them at bay as much as you could but sometimes - times like this - something just got under your skin and you couldn't shake the feeling. The precinct received an anonymous tip naming this house as the home base of your unsub and you rode out with Morgan and Hotch to check it out.

You'd since spilt up to search around after clearing the house and you were now standing alone in the middle of what seemed to have once been a study. You made your way over to the desk to examine an old journal in hopes that it could give you some insight into the life of your unsub. The journal didn't seem helpful as you quickly skimmed over the page it was left open on, it more than likely belonged to the previous owners of the house and not your unsub at all.

You moved to turn the page over wanting to make sure there wasn't anything useful but as you did your wrist brushed against something on the table, the sudden feeling making you drop the journal back onto the table. You weren't entirely sure what it was that you'd touched but it left an uncomfortable feeling against your skin.

"Y/L/N, you alright?" You pulled your gaze away from your wrist and turned to see Hotch standing in the doorway, watching you curiously.

"I um, yeah, sorry I just I thought I found something but it's nothing." You stuttered out trying to refocus yourself on the task at hand instead of on the way your skin now felt like it was crawling, or the growing urge to run to the nearest bathroom and scrub your hands clean. Not that you'd actually be able to clean anything in this house, in fact, you guessed that the bathroom was probably in worse condition than this room.

"Okay well I think we're done here, there's nothing else we can find. It's time to head home for the night, we can regroup in the morning." That was the one good thing about this case, it was based close enough to Quantico that you could go home to your own apartment rather than to some hotel every night. You most certainly needed that right now. All you wanted to do was get home to somewhere that felt safe.

You nodded and followed Hotch downstairs as you made your way outside, staying quiet as you went. Working with profilers it was hard to keep anything a secret and most of the time someone would always pick up on it when something was wrong. You could tell that was happening now as Hotch let you walk ahead of him, his eyes watching you closely as you went. He didn't say anything, clearly not wanting to press the issue and you appreciated that.

"Y/N, ride with me." Hotch insisted once you got outside, pulling the passenger door open for you. "I'm heading your way anyway so I'll drop you home."

"Sure, thank you, Hotch." You agreed after a moment's hesitation. You were sure you wouldn't be great company with the growing panic in your chest- that only seemed to be getting worse but frustratingly slowly - but you could use the distraction.

The drive to your apartment wasn't that long, twenty minutes at max but now that you had stopped and allowed your brain a moment to catch up with itself every minute seemed to drag out forever. Your initial fears had just continued to grow sending you into a tailspin of anxiety until it felt like it was pushing down on your chest, making it hard for you to breathe. While you'd enjoyed the silence at first it was now only making you feel worse as you had no way to shut out any of your thoughts. You were so focused on keeping your hands away from your clothes, not wanting to have to worry about changing completely once you got inside that you'd barely noticed the SUV coming to a stop.

Hotch unbuckled his seat belt and turned in his seat to face you. He must have been able to read everything that was building inside you on your face as he started to reach a hand out towards you before stopping himself, instead, resting it on the edge of your seat.

"Can I come up with?" He asked gently. "I can tell somethings wrong and I don't want to leave you alone like this."

You just nodded your head, not trusting your voice to answer him. It happened every time you spiralled into a panic attack, slowly you started to shut down until you weren't even able to speak with shaking uncontrollably. You climbed out of the car and headed towards your apartment, letting Hotch trail behind you as you went. You felt like your body was on autopilot as you reached into your bag and pulled out your keys, unlocking your door with shakey hands.

You dropped everything the second you stepped into your apartment and darted towards the bathroom leaving Hotch standing awkwardly in your hallway. Once the bathroom door shut behind you, you started the tap running the warm water over your hands. You scrubbed where your wrist had touched against the object, rinsing the soap away before repeating the process again and again until the repetition finally started to calm your nerves.

It was enough to stop the feeling of your skin crawling but the anxiety that had built up still weighted down on you and refused to budge as you fought back tears, finally meeting your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were red and watery with unshed tears. You tried to swallow the feeling, stepping out of the bathroom to return to Hotch. When you found him he'd made his way into your living room and was standing next to your couch.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" He asked, his voice laced with concern when he turned to meet your eyes.

You shook your head not even sure how to begin to explain to Hotch how you were feeling. You'd never told any of the team the true extent of what you dealt with and while you were sure they'd picked up on pieces of it nobody really knew the truth. It felt no matter how hard you tried to explain it, you could never find the right words. You walked towards the couch but instead of taking a seat, you sunk to the floor in front of it, leaning back against it. The feeling of the hard floor beneath your hands helping to ground you. Hotch moved around the couch to join you, sitting close but not quite close enough to touch.

"How can I help?" He questioned watching as you tried to hold in the sob that threatened to spill out. Some of your comforts felt silly now that you were faced with the idea of explaining them to Hotch. You were always afraid of being judged for the things you needed in moments like these but you needed at least a small comfort right now.

"Can you um, can you light the candle on the fireplace?" You asked nervously gesturing towards one of your larger scented candles that sat on your fireplace. Hotch nodded and reached for the nearby lighter before lighting the candle. It took a few tries for the flame to take but once it did he returned to his place next to you.

You took a deep breath, focusing on the rich scent that filled your nose. Sometimes when your body went into sensory overload like this the candles helped. The focus on one major sense that you could control helped to settle your body. You were very aware of Hotch's presence next to you and the need for comfort resurfaced stronger than ever when his hand brushed against yours on the floor. Hotch had always been a comforting presence in your life, while maybe you weren't incredibly close he was there for you when you needed him.

Before you could stop yourself you turned and buried your face in the crook of his neck, finally letting out the sob you had been holding back. You felt Hotch tense at first, clearly taken aback by your sudden movement but in less than second his arms were wrapped around you pulling you closer to him. The feeling of his arms around you was overwhelming as you finally let out everything you'd been feeling. You tightened your arms around his waist as you clung to him, your whole body shaking with the force of your sobs. Hotch brought one hand to rest on the back of your head while he tangled his fingers in your hair holding you tight against his chest. His other hand smoothed across your back, rhythmically running up and down your spine as he whispered comforting words in your ear.

"Shush Y/N, it's okay. I'm right here." He mumbled next to your ear, his voice quiet as he tried to calm you. His voice was soothing, every word helping you catch your breath just that little bit more. "You're safe here."

When your sobs finally stopped, reduced to sniffles as you tried your best to catch your breath, you slumped against Hotch's chest. You weren't sure if you were calmer now or simply becoming numb. You let him hold you, too exhausted both mentally and physically to even try and move away.

"It's hard sometimes." You started, your voice was hoarse from crying as slightly muffled as you kept your face buried in the crook of his neck. "To feel safe when that happens, when my own brain won't let me stop out of fear of something as minor as germs and dirt hurting me. So thank you. Thank you for staying."

"Of course, Y/N." Hotch nodded, his hand still stroking through your hair as your breath fanned against his neck. "If you ever need to talk or if you ever need time off you can always come to me. I want to help."

"I don't want to keep you all night." You said as you finally pushed yourself away from Hotch and rubbed at your teary eyes. You could feel the pressure of a headache building and all you wanted was to crawl into your bed and to forget the world. You didn't want to keep Hotch up all night just because you were having a rough night. "You should go home, get some rest."

You went to stand, pushing yourself up from where you were sitting but just before you got to your feet you felt Hotch gently grasp your hand in his. He tugged you back down next to him and cupped your cheek in his free hand.

"I don't care if I don't get any sleep tonight. As long as I can be there for you." You were surprised by the sincerity in his voice but there was something in his eyes, a determination to help that had you melting back into the contact. You stopped fighting it and let him.

"Can we just, stay here for a while?" You whispered.

He nodded at you and wrapped you up in his arms again, helping you settle comfortably into his lap. You rested your head against his chest, letting your eyes flutter shut as you listened to the steady beat of his heart as you eventually drifted off to sleep.

Taglist: @marauder-level-chaos

#aoife!#criminal minds x reader #gn reader x hotch #gn reader x aaron hotchner #gn!reader x aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fics #arsonhotchnerreads

330 notes · View notes

nathanbatemanfucker · 3 years ago

Text

🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭 mimi you always hit me in the feels

Here’s just a little something I wrote for some comfort while I was on my period so if anyone’s feeling it I hope this offers some comfort <3

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Warnings: periods, cramps

Not Well

Waking up in the middle of the night had become an unfortunate but familiar feeling. Three o’clock in the morning for one week, every month. It came like a recurring nightmare and each time it came around you wished for it to go away.

When you woke up this time, Aaron wasn’t out on a case and Jack was asleep in the other room, you didn’t want to wake either of them so you quietly hobbled out of bed and went to the medicine cabinet in the kitchen and pulled out some ibuprofen and popped a few back.

You then tiptoed into the bathroom and stripped down before turning the hot water on and changing the setting on the showerhead. Still half asleep you sat down in the tub and squeezed your eyes shut as the water first hit your face, then your stomach.

It was so early in the morning you could feel yourself drifting despite the shooting pains that were making you squirm in discomfort, but the water did a great deal in soothing whatever hurt you were feeling.

What you didn’t expect was to hear the washroom door click open and it stirred your eyes open and you pushed yourself up slightly so you could see who had entered the room.

Past the shower curtain you saw Aaron walking quietly into the washroom and rubbing his eyes awake.

“Aaron,” you mumbled. “What are you doing up?”

“You’re not feeling well,” he said simply, sitting himself next to the tub. “I wanted to come sit with you so you’re not alone,”

You pressed your lips together and nodded, hoping the few tears that had sprung up were masked by the droplets of water already on your face.

He offered you his hand and you took it, letting him squeeze as tight as his grip would allow to distract you from the pain.

“Did the doctor tell you anything,” he asked quietly and you shook your head.

“Just gave me some pills that don’t work,” you sniffed.

“Is there anything else I can do for you then?”

“Just heat me up a heat pack after I get out. If you think it won’t wake Jack,”

“If it does, it's alright, it’s not a school night,” he leaned over the edge of the bathtub and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

He sat with you until you stood up again, turning off the shower and taking a moment to breathe before pulling open the curtain and immediately being wrapped in a soft towel and helped out of the shower.

“I put some clothes out for you,” Aaron said. “I’m just gonna go heat up the heat pack for you, I’ll be right back,”

You nodded and he dipped down to steal a soft kiss from you before leaving the room so you could change.

When he came back you were all dried off and trying to deal with your wet hair before heading back to bed.

Aaron simply shut both the door to your room and to the washroom before digging for your blow dryer and turning it onto the lowest setting and taking care of it for you while you stood in front of the mirror.

“You don’t have to do this,” you looked over at him.

“Maybe it’s an old wives tale but my mother told me once if you go to sleep with wet hair you’ll wake up with a headache. Don’t want to risk it,”

You gave him a kiss as a thank you and let him finish drying your hair before heading back to bed.

Once you were under the blankets he came right up behind you and slipped a hand under your shirt, gently putting pressure at the base of your stomach with his warm hand and you tried to hold back tears, partially from the discomfort your cramps were causing you but also from feeling so lucky to have someone like Aaron take care of you when you felt like this.

“Sweetheart, if you're in pain it’s okay to cry,” he whispered and that was all it took to break the dam.

Aaron simply pressed soft kisses to the nape of your neck holding you while you shook slightly.

You almost both missed the sound of the door clicking open and Jack quietly tiptoeing into the room.

“Daddy? What happened?” he mumbled.

“Momma’s just not feeling too well,” Aaron explained. “Why don’t you come up here and give her a hug to make her feel better,”

Jack nodded, carefully climbing onto your side of the bed and curling into you before pressing a small kiss to your cheek.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel good, momma,”

“Me too, sweetie,” you sniffled and returned his kiss with one to his forehead. “But I think it would make me feel a lot better if you stay with me and daddy tonight, huh?”

Jack nodded his head and hugged you tightly while you rubbed circles around his back to help him slowly drift back to sleep and sooner or later the movement of your hands stopped and Aaron knew you had finally managed to close your eyes once more.

He pressed one final kiss to your shoulder hoping the rest of the night would prove to be more restful.

#tw: periods #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner #arsonhotchnerreads #mimi my sweet demented bestie 🦚

352 notes · View notes

nathanbatemanfucker · 3 years ago

Text

Ki😭😭😭 I am emotional. This was beautiful, you’re amazing. This is amazing.

The Universe, She's Wounded.

(She's still got infinity ahead of her)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon Typical Themes. Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Shy!Reader; Insecure!Hotch; Alcohol Mentions; dramatic!fluff.

Summary: "You remind me of home, of all the simple things in life, of light and love and the reasons I am not alone. You remind me of hope, of the sea and the sky, every hug and every kiss from your lips to your thighs. I have flown around the world and met no one like you because you are all the things I keep coming back to." -- Courtney Peppernell

WC: 5.1k

AN: There is very likely going to be a part two to this story with some sweet smut, but we will see! The title is from the song, Universe by Gregory Alan Isakov. The quote is from the book, Pillow Thoughts by Courtney Peppernell--someone I had the privilege of talking to on Tumblr back in 2015 before all of her wonderful poetry hit shelves at Target and other bookstores.

Masterlist/Send me an Aaron Hotchner Headcanon.

“We need to evacuate the building,” The officer is shuffling people out while Hotch walks in the opposite direction toward him. His team is nowhere to be found--you’re nowhere to be found.

“Excuse me,” Hotch says, brushing past the exiting crowd, “What’s going on?”

“There’s a bomb, Agent,” The officer says, still gesturing the rest of the station’s staff out of the building, “Strapped to the man in the interrogation room.”

Hotch’s eyebrows furrow deep, “How did he get in a police station with a bomb strapped to him?” A million questions run through his head, “He’s alone, correct? Have we isolated him? ”

“We don’t have the security that bigger, newer stations have, sir.” The officer shares, “And he’s not alone. He’s threatening to set it off if we get her out.”

“Her?”

“Agent Y/L/N? I think was--”

Hotch pushes the officer aside and begins sprinting toward the interrogation room. The building is eerily empty. What spooks him even more was the sight before him when he arrives at the two-way mirror.

You sit in the chair across from the man whose shirt is ripped open, revealing a bomb strapped to his chest. He’s holding a remote with his thumb hovering over the button. Hotch takes his eyes off of the unsub to look at you.

You’re picking at your fingernails--a nervous habit he noticed of yours early on. You look calm to an outsider, but he can see the pain behind your eyes. You’re so much like him; Hotch feels like he knows your next move before you do some days.

“Agent,” The officer interrupts, “We need to evacuate. The bomb squad is on their way.”

Hotch’s jaw tenses; he doesn’t turn to look at the officer. He takes a look at you and tries to breathe you in from the glass between you.

As if the memories came back in waves, the storm of your possible demise crashes through, causing them.

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

The first time Aaron Hotchner thought of you in a way he felt he shouldn’t was when he first saw your genuine compassion.

“What are you doing, Y/L/N?” Hotch asks, seeing you over at Spencer’s desk. You’re shuffling through his files, a pencil tucked behind your ear.

“Oh--,” You say, surprised, “Well--Spencer got a call about his mom today after the case.”

“I heard,” Hotch says, his brows still turned downward in confusion.

“Well, I can’t imagine the stress he’s under,” You shrug as if it’s obvious you feel that way as if anyone would do it. You still believe in the better good of the world despite the horrific acts you see on the day-to-day. “And, I dunno, I want to take some of the weight off his shoulders even if it’s for a day.”

Hotch takes in your words for a moment; he wondered if you had something better to do than be the last agent in the building alongside him.

“You don’t have to do that, Y/N,” Hotch uses your first name, something he rarely does.

“Oh, I know--I want to. Really.”

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

Aaron Hotchner can see you’re a beautiful young woman, but the night the team rushes in on a Friday night for a case, he sees you dressed differently--more casually.

Your hair is pulled back in a braid, and your face is bare from any makeup. There is a glow to your skin that he doesn’t usually see. You’re wearing leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. You look--cozy. Warm.

You remark, apologizing for how you look. Hotch has to stop himself from telling you just how beautiful you look. But that would be wrong, he thinks. He’s your boss. And you’re you. Young, shy, and so much like him in some ways--it spooked him.

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

The team is out for drinks the first time you say something that throws Hotch off. You’re playing with the straw of your mixed drink while the rest of the team is up on the dance floor, requesting ridiculous songs from the nineties.

“You aren’t much for dancing,” Hotch asks, sipping his beer. He usually doesn’t go out to do these types of things. Hotch tries telling himself he didn’t come just for you, but deep down, he knows he did come to see you.

“I wouldn’t say that,” You smile, “This just isn’t,” You look around and wince, “My scene, I suppose.”

Hotch looks curious, tilting his head. The can of worms is now open, “What is your scene?”

“I’m more of a dance-in-the-living room with someone you really care about, kinda girl,” You shrug with a small smile before looking down at your glass. The alcohol blushed your cheeks in a way he’s not used to. It’s cute---really.

Hotch nods, understanding.

“Besides,” You look back up to him, “I don’t like to draw any unwanted attention at a place like this.” You shrug, and Hotch is curious once more.

He looks around, and it seems relatively safe, he’d say. The men in here are primarily around your age--not that he thinks any of them would be good enough for you, anyways, but none look of a threat.

“Are you seeing someone?” It rolls off of Hotch’s tongue without thinking. He internally cringes at his question. Sure, he’s asked agents like Elle or JJ about their personal lives in the past, but this was different. This was you.

“Oh, no,” You shake your head, you look back down, avoiding his gaze, “I’m not really looking right now.”

“I see,” Hotch says, feeling as if he should back off the questions before he looks strange.

“None of these guys are my type, anyway,” You look back towards him, leaving the sentence open for him to ask what your type was.

“What’s your type then?”

You bite the side of your cheek, trying to collect your thoughts, “Well, I guess if I had to find the closest person in this room to my type,” You say, looking around, “It would be you.”

Your words almost knock the wind out of Hotch’s lungs. Before he can even collect himself and respond to what you say--never mind hearing you say more, Emily comes over out of breath and reaches over the table to grab her drink.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom; wanna go with me,” Emily asks, and you nod, standing from the seat.

When you come back out, Hotch is gone.

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

Hotch is walking by JJ’s office one day when he overhears the two of you talking. He pauses behind the window when he hears his name mentioned.

“Hotch is just--”

“He’s just someone you’re totally into, Y/N,” JJ exclaims, “And he--you’re so different to him than all of us are.”

“No,” You say in disbelief, “I’m so much younger than him. He--he would never look at me that way.”

She was right, Hotch thought. You were so much younger than him. He should leave you alone, let you find someone your age. Someone with less baggage than him.

He sighs and walks away. Today is going to be a very long day, he thinks.

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

“What’s this,” You say, kneeling on the ground at the crime scene. You lift up a piece of evidence, and Hotch bends down to see it as well.

Your hands brush when you pass it to him. A bolt of electricity runs through his veins. It’s cliche, honestly, but he can’t help the way you hold his gaze before shaking your head to concentrate. The look in your eyes that held him for a moment too long made him wonder if in some universe you could be his.

After looking at the evidence, Hotch gets up. You begin to stand as well, but the uneven, rocky, dirt path you are standing on gets the best of you.

You reach for Hotch before he can even reach for you to gain your balance. Hotch holds you steady; your grip on his forearm is tight. You blink a few times, regaining your surroundings.

“Sorry,” You say, moving off of him. You look embarrassed.

Something runs through Hotch at that moment; he reaches for your hand as it slides off his forearm. He holds it for a second before he even realizes what he did.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Hotch says; he lets go of your hand, wishing he could have held it just a little longer.

You give a small smile and look down at your shoes before up at him--saying something that leaves him breathless once more.

“You’re always there to catch me, Hotch,” You give him a smile that pierces through his chest. You walk past him to meet up with the rest of the team on the scene. There’s always a skip in your step--a lightness that he wishes was contagious. You’re too pure and good for this world.

“You have no idea,” Hotch says under his breath.

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

You’re bringing in a file one night, and he thinks back to the blush on your cheeks after work from the liquor in your cup. As you place the file on his desk, words are falling off his lips before he can register them.

It’s as if you’re a drug that inhibits the way he acts.

“We--uh, Callahan’s Bar a few months ago,” Hotch clears his throat, “That was fun.”

Your eyebrows pinch for a moment before you smile, “Yeah,” You nod, “Yeah, it was fun.”

He fidgets with the pen on his desk as if it would give him the courage just to ASK you.

“We should do it again,” Hotch says, knowing the only good part about that night was you. The two of you could go without the team...it wouldn’t be weird or anything--

“Sure, let me tell the rest!”

Hotch kicks himself; he’s truly lost his groove in this whole “feelings” thing.

You’re skipping out of the room to get the rest of the group together before he can even correct himself.

He sighs, getting his things together as now he HAS to go out with the team. He only accidentally initiated it. It’s as if the rest of the BAU is third-wheeling his time with you.

At the bar, you sit next to him. The entire table is open to sitting, but you choose the spot right next to him in the booth.

The team gets into their usual shenanigans, and Hotch is feeling rather down. It’s as if he’s at war with himself and his feelings for you. They’re silently eating him alive.

When you go up to dance with Penelope after she drags you by the hands, Hotch stands and walks to the bar. He takes a seat and asks for another beer. The bartender hands him the glass bottle.

“Thanks,” He says, taking the beer. He takes a swig of it and is startled to feel a hand at his back. It’s you.

“Why’d you leave?” You look disappointed, borderline pouting. Your hand is still on his back as you look at him at his side.

“Oh,” Hotch clears his throat, shaking his head, “I was just grabbing another beer.” He raises the glass bottle with a smile.

“Oh,” You smile wide with reassurance, “Good because I would be LOST at these things without you.” You laugh. Hotch pulls the barstool out beside him, and you hop up on it.

Hotch flags the bartender down and orders you another drink. Your cheeks are pink again. It’s the type of pink that reminds him of sunsets at the beach—a shade of pink that is so very YOU.

You take a sip of your drink, “You know,” Hotch says, “When I asked you tonight--what I was trying to say was--”

“Y/N!” Emily interrupts, slightly tipsy, “We’re going to go back to Pen’s house for more drinks; you coming?”

You look at her and then back to Hotch. When you look back to Hotch, it gives him a funny feeling inside. Was he actually a choice? He thought.

“Uh,” You stutter, “I think I’m going to stay here,” You lift your full glass.

“How’re you gonna get home? I was your ride, silly,” Penelope asks, hands on her hips.

“I’ll make sure she gets home alright,” Hotch promises, with a firm nod toward the team.

JJ shares a look with you, and you turn your head quickly away from her. Shyly, you look down at your drink. Hotch gives them all a reassuring smile, and JJ shoots HIM a look now. That feeling inside of him increases. It’s somewhere between nerves and excitement.

You seem to keep the topic of work for the rest of the night at the bar. It’s not that Hotch minds talking about work with you--honestly, any conversation with you is a gift in his mind. His hopes were falling, though, the idea of you feeling anything for him back leaving slowly.

He has The Beatles White Album in the car stereo when you get to his car in the parking lot. You smile, picking up the CD case and looking at it up and down.

His car fills with the scent of your perfume and the lingering alcohol on your breath.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hotch waves his hands up in defeat, “I still listen to CD’s--”

“No,” You laugh, “That’s not it. It’s just--It’s funny cause Emily was just teasing me when she was in my car. I have only one CD...it’s a Beatles CD too.” You shake your head, “Is it true that this is your favorite album?”

You look up to him, and he nods, “It is,” He says, “It’s also their best album--”

“OH,” You scoff, a noise he’s never heard from you. A TONE he’s never heard from you. “No, it’s not.” You shake your head, placing the CD case down on the console, and lift your hands away from it as if it personally offended you. “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart Club IS the best.”

Hotch is taken back by you right now but also feels the urge to see more of it. He leans forward and presses the “next” button on the stereo. Back in the USSR, begins to play through the speakers, and you give him a look of determination.

“Nope,” You shake your head, crossing your arms, “I’ll admit--it’s a good song, but NOTHING compares to A Day in the Life, and the rest of the album is just...I can’t even compare it,” you laugh.

The rest of the car ride is spent arguing over which CD is better and why. It’s probably the best conversation Hotch has had in years. Two of his favorite things: You and The White Album.

When he arrives at your condo, he parks in front for a moment, and you both sit there in comfortable silence. You look down at your lap, where your hands are fidgeting. You look back up to him with another new look.

“You know,” You laugh, looking back down at your lap, “I was hoping tonight you were going to ask just me out.” You don’t look back up at him, but Hotch has what he’d call a “stupid smile” on his face.

“Y/N,” Hotch says, and you look up, “I WAS trying to ask just you out, but I was failing...miserably.”

“Really?” You say with such surprise as if the idea of him ever wanting to spend extra time with you never crossed your mind.

“Yes,” Hotch nods, “I’m not used to--”

“Neither am I,” You blush, “But next time?”

“Absolutely,” Hotch promises. You smile big before unbuckling. “Have a goodnight, Y/N.”

“You too, Hotch,” You say, reaching for the door, “I’ll be looking forward to our re-do.”

That night, you send him a link to listen to Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. He replies with a link to Dear Prudence.

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

“I’m so excited for you, Y/N,” Emily exclaims in the bullpen. Hotch is walking out of his office to ask Anderson to deliver some files for him. He can’t help but overhear the commotion that Emily is causing around you.

JJ tugs on Hotch’s suit sleeve, and he grunts in surprise, “JJ, what--”

JJ pulls him into the lunchroom area and is giving him this look.

“Y/N has a date with the guy from ballistics,” Hotch’s stomach sinks, “You need to do something.”

Hotch clears his throat, “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

“Bull.” JJ crosses her arms; she almost looks angry at him, “You’re in love with her!”

“JJ,” Hotch laughs it off, “I do not.”

“Hotch--you’ve got to be kidding me,” JJ rolls her eyes, “She is the only person on this planet right now who can make you smile like that. She’s the one you talk to the most. You two even text. Like regularly. The two of you are like the same person--but opposite.”

“JJ--”

“Just listen to me, Hotch,” JJ says, “You’ve allowed her to see parts of yourself that none of us have. You’ve opened up to her. You don’t go out unless she is there. You are in love with her, Aaron.”

“I-I--”

Hotch’s phone rings from the small town that the current case is on. The case where you’re in a room with a bomb.

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

Hotch is standing outside of the building with the rest of the team, and he’s practically vibrating with emotion. You’re still inside. The only three people inside are you, the unsub, and a member of the bomb squad.

“She’s gonna be okay,” JJ says to Hotch, “She has to be okay.”

Hotch appreciates the sentiment, but he can’t focus. His only thought is you.

He hears his heart thrum in his ears as he waits. He can sense the team’s nervousness around him which makes it even worse. At least if they were calm, he would know it’s just him and his personal connection to you, but it wasn’t just him. It was real. It was bad.

“Agent Hotchner,” A man in the bomb squad uniform says; Hotch looks to him, “I need you to evacuate the rest of your team.”

Hotch straightens, his jaw tensing, “What’s going on?”

“The device strapped to the gentleman inside is...it’s a lot more destructive than we thought.”

Hotch turns to the team and tells them to go. The rest of the officers are leaving behind him as well. The parking lot is emptying quickly, and he knows he needs to get his team out just as fast.

“What about you,” Derek asks, putting his hands on his hips.

“I’m staying here.”

“You can’t stay here, Agent Hotchner,” The bomb squad member says firmly to Hotch.

“I’m staying here. Y/N is in there--”

“I don’t care who is in there,” The squad member says, “I need this scene evacuated.”

“Hotch,” Derek says, but Hotch doesn’t turn back, “Hotch!”

“What?” Hotch snaps at Derek. He hisses his name through his teeth.

“Let’s go, man,” Derek says, staying behind while the rest of the team begins to take off in separate cars. “You’re no good to her if you’re hurt too.”

Hotch brushes past Derek and hops in the driver’s seat of the SUV. Derek gets in the passenger seat and watches Hotch. Derek wonders if Hotch drove like this the day Haley died. He wonders if he’s witnessing what happened that day--the day Derek always wondered how Hotch was when he was all alone to save his family.

They arrive at another nearby police station; it’s claustrophobic in this small town station. Everyone is packed like sardines watching the TV, displaying live coverage of the building from helicopters above.

“Hotch,” JJ puts an arm on his shoulder, everything she does is in reassurance, but he’s beyond that right now, “It’s going to be o--”

The TV shows the building blown into a billion pieces. Flames and smoke fill the screen. Hotch has all that he can do but fall to his knees. He brushes past the crowd, pushing and shoving. He finds an empty office and slams the door shut behind him.

He paces, angry breathing leaving his nostrils. He’s halfway between a panic attack and punching a wall. He decides to punch the wall instead.

Hotch’s fist meets the cement wall with a slam. He’s sure it will be bruising later, but it got some of the energy he needs out. He can barely feel the pain of it right now, but he’s sure he will see later when the adrenaline wears off.

He’s about to sit in the chair and let his head fall to his hands when it flies open. It’s Spencer; he’s lit up and out of breath.

“Y/N! She made it out! She’s fine! She’s okay!”

Hotch shoots up, his eyes widen, and he walks past Spencer to find out more information. Derek meets him the minute he’s back in the central part of the station; he places his hand in front of Hotch’s chest, stopping him from moving further.

“She’s okay,” Derek says, “She’s got a few cuts and bruises--but she’s fine. She’s completely in shock--but she’s going to be okay.”

“Where is she?” Hotch replies faster than Derek can finish speaking, “Where is she?”

“They’re taking her back to the hotel room to rest; paramedics just cleared her,” Derek says, lifting the SUV’s keys in his hand, “Here.”

Hotch looks at the keys and then at Derek, then the keys again. He takes them and thanks Derek with a nod.

Arriving at the hotel, they were staying at, a paramedic is pacing the floor in the lobby. She looks up and sees Hotch.

“Are you Aaron?” The woman asks, and he nods eagerly. “Agent Y/N’s been asking for you.”

“Is she okay? She’s in her room?” He stumbles over questions.

“Yes,” She says, “She is pretty shaken up,” she nods, “I was going to suggest someone staying with her, and she was asking for you before I could even say it to her.”

“O-Okay,” Hotch nods, “Thank you so much,”

Hotch presses the elevator button frantically, pressing it multiple times as if that would get him to you quicker. He lets out a shaky breath and passes through the elevator doors to get to your floor.

One foot in front of the other, he rushes down the hall to your room. He knocks eagerly and hears you shuffle toward the door. You swing the door open, and Hotch’s breath leaves him. He inhales sharply at the damage done to you.

There’s a blank look behind your eyes--you look like you haven’t processed it all yet. There’s a minor cut on your forehead and a few scrapes here and there—dried blood stains your cheek and your shirt.

“Y/N--”

Hotch can barely get your name out of his mouth when you crumble. Your knees buckle, and you begin to sob. Hotch is forward to catch you--to hold you as you cry. He pulls you to his chest, shutting the door behind him with his foot.

“Shh,” He soothes, rubbing your back up and down, “It’s all okay,” he assures, “It’s okay.”

You clutch to his shirt like a lost child as if it would give you some sort of leverage. Your grip loosens as the tears slow. Hotch is still holding onto you when you sit back and look at him.

Your eyes are tear-stained and red. Hotch reaches up and wipes a falling tear, “Why don’t we get you cleaned up,” He suggests with a small smile. You nod, closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.

You walk over to your bed and sit. Hotch walks to the bathroom, and he turns the shower on for you--not too hot, not too cold. He doesn’t want to intrude or push any boundaries, but he also doesn’t want you to be alone right now.

“The shower’s all set for you,” Hotch walks out of the bathroom, gesturing behind him. “Take your time; I’ll be here when you get out.”

You nod and get up, ambling to the bathroom. You take your go-bag in with you and shut the door behind you.

Hotch takes his jacket off and loosens his tie, taking it off as well. They both sit on the back of the chair in the hotel room. He takes a seat on it and waits for you to finish. He’s deep in thought with all of the what-ifs when you finally do come out.

You’re in pajamas--you look so soft, he thinks. He gives you a faint smile as you walk out, he looks down at your feet, and you’re wearing these ridiculous, fluffy socks that looked like something Penelope Garcia would wear. He laughs and gets a smile out of you.

You walk over to the bed and lay down on top of the blankets. You look up to the ceiling blankly, and Hotch watches. He waits for you to say something before he asks anything.

“Will you,” You pause, your voice so low and soft. Your hands lay on your chest, and you’re fidgeting, “Will you lay with me.”

Hotch is surprised by the question but happily obliges. He kicks his dress shoes off under the table and walks over to the other side of the bed, and mimics you on top of the bedding.

The two of you lay there in silence, looking at the ceiling. The only sound in the room is both of your steady breathing--something Hotch is so grateful to be hearing today. Suppose he lost you--no. He can’t even think of that.

The room is filled with the scent of your shampoo as your freshly washed hair lays on top of the pillow. The sweet-floral scene comforts him in a way he’s not sure how to feel about.

“Aaron,” You say gently; Hotch is a little surprised to hear you call him that. It’s not ill-taken, just different. “Do you--do y-you ever feel lonely?”

The way you ask him--it’s so wholesome. You ask him in a tone as if you had not seen the grim parts of the world. But then again--it’s as if you have a soul so strong, those parts would never get to you anyways.

“Yeah,” It rolls off of Hotch’s lips in a breath. Does he ever feel lonely? That’s a loaded question because, of course, he does. He knows the second he leaves this room; he will be feeling something akin to homesickness.

“When I was in the room today with him--with the unsub,” You start, “I thought about how lonely I am, Aaron.” He hates the way your voice cracks with your admission. “And it was as if the unsub could read my mind--he mocked me. He told me that nobody would even miss me if I were gone.”

Hotch’s chest aches. It’s painful as he hears you say these things because of how untrue they were.

“You know that’s not true, Y/N,” He says, “Don’t you?” He hopes.

“I mean--yeah, my family. My team--but,” You let out an exhausted sigh, “This sounds so pathetic--”

“Nothing you could say could be pathetic,” He counters quickly. You turn on your side to look at him, and he does the same--face to face on each side of the bed.

“I feel like my whole life I have been so off-balance--so unaligned,” You confess; there’s a raw amount of honesty behind each letter that comes from your mouth. “I thought of you, Aaron.”

Hotch remains still. He’s afraid if he moves too much, it will all disappear before his eyes. Deep down, he’s sure it will because he feels so undeserving of it all--of this unrestrained side of you.

“Some days,” You laugh sarcastically, “I’m afraid of my own shadow. I really am some days.” You close your eyes, and Hotch doesn’t as much blink. You open your eyes, and they look glassy, “I know there are days where it is difficult being you. Just like I know there are days where it’s difficult being me.” You pause, blinking away tears, “But I realized today that you’re the one who makes me feel like my life is in balance--like I’m finally aligned in this mad world. That makes life less difficult cause I know you’re there to catch me.”

Hotch’s jaw tenses, but he nods because he understands the feeling deeply. Only you put in words how he was genuinely feeling all this time. He swears he can feel his heart beating faster than it was earlier.

“Aaron?” You question, and he looks at you earnestly. “I’m yours if you’ll have me. And I know that you might have worries and fears, but after today, I really realized--”

You ramble as Hotch leans forward, cupping your cheek and placing a tender kiss on your lips, quieting you in an instant. There was power in the silence of two lips on each other. In some ways, it felt like two halves becoming a whole.

Hotch pulls back and continues to cup your cheek, “I almost lost you today,” He says, and this time it’s his voice cracking. “I knew how I felt about you, Y/N--but I couldn’t fathom losing you. I couldn’t.”

“You didn’t lose me,” You cover his hand on your cheek with your own. He winces somewhat as it’s the hand he almost put through a wall earlier. You don’t seem to notice, thankfully. “I’m here,” You say, “I’m here.” You reassure one more time. You scoot closer to him, and he feels you wrap your arms around his middle, curling into him. He lets out a sigh that he felt as if he was holding it in for an eternity.

The exhaustion of the day wears on both of you, sleep takes over, and you two sleep just like that. The world feels like it spins in the right direction when Hotch wakes up the following day, looking down at you in his arms.

All is right.

Tag List:

@gspenc

@chelseyjoyce

@emiliaprentiss

@swan-lite

@genevievedarcygranger

@ssamorganhotchner

@strugglingtodoshit

@futuremrsmorozova

@meghannnnnn

@0callme-mimi

@infinite-tides

@babychickanon

@skyler666

@xstaywildmoonchild

@averyhotchner

@fd305

@g-l-pierce

@alexxblake

#ki!#aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #arsonhotchnerreads

257 notes · View notes