#talking about Aaron

[tomcriuse]

Thomas Gibson as Aaron Hotchner Criminal Minds 1.16 'The Tribe'

[existential-flu]

there's something so fascinating about the physicality of Hotch. he's tall, strongly built, and he uses that, he's commanding. he's loud, his voice carries well, but he's rarely violent. he's a clean shot, he's steady. that drops when he's not in charge of a situation. his voice gets the softest of anyone on the team. he moves stiltedly. stands awkwardly, like he's trying to shrink - he makes himself look smaller. he fidgets but it's isolated to areas of his body, the rest of him freezes. when he loses control he tears down to bone. screaming in the face of fire, beating Foyet to death. inherent violence tamped down and down. and you know it's there, when he's physically commanding, but it's not far away even when he's not.

[theunholyvirginemilyprentiss]

PENELOPE: Hey, Gideon, we made a rap video.

GIDEON: No, you didn’t.

SPENCER: We did, it’s called ‘Wheels Up.’

JJ: Even Hotch agreed to be in it.

GIDEON: No, he didn’t.

EMILY: Uh, yeah, he did:

GIDEON: Why have you done this?

[the-inner-musings-of-a-worm]

aaron minyard had to have had an eidetic memory as well. it’s the only explanation for how he survived doing pre med and dealing with the foxes. you’re telling me the man had time to play video games and go clubbing on the weekends? photographic memory. no other answer

[mcondance]

sleepy hotch, gn!reader, domestic fluff <3

☆

aaron’s hand drapes over your waist, urging you back into bed with him.

“baby,” he hums, deep and low and rumbly in the way that makes your stomach all warm. you turn back to him. messy hair and a sleepy smile meet you, adding pressure to the side of the balance that says “stay in bed.”

there’s nothing to do, really, finally an empty day. a day aaron wants to start with another bout of sleep, with his arms around you. with quiet conversation, his hand rubbing up and down your back, birds chirping and wind rustling through the trees in the background.

you tilt your head with a soft smile, your own eyes still a little blurry with sleep.

“stay?” he asks, soft and needing and sincere. he gets his answer in you lifting up the covers so that you can slide back to where you were, right next to him.

[aaronwhorechner]

EMILY PRENTISS & AARON HOTCHNER and their complete lack of personal space

[inafieldofstarflowers]

No bc you guys, Nicky Hemmick was twenty and he was living in Germany and for the first time he was with people who loved him without trying to change who he was. He was learning to love himself, to accept the things that he’d spent his life believing made him evil and broken and worthless, and see that they were beautiful. He had gotten out.

And then, somehow—maybe through his parents, maybe through the cousin he’d only really known for the few months their time in Columbia had overlapped before Nicky left for Germany—he found out that his aunt was dead, that his cousins (and Nicky had only met one of them, but they were twins, and they’d been separated for their whole lives) were either going into the system or into his parents’ custody.

And maybe, for a moment, he reasoned that they were sixteen. That it would only be a few years before they were adults and could make their own choices on where to live, on how to live. But he also remembered that house, and he remembered what it was like to live there and how he’d tiptoed around it. He remembered who he was, then; how much less of himself he’d had to be. And he packed his bags and moved—not home, not anymore, but still back; back to South Carolina, back to Columbia, back to the cousins who needed him even if they didn’t quite seem to want him.

And they figured things out, slow and messy—the custody arrangement, getting the house, establishing a life. Nicky taught the twins German, and he tried his best to teach them what it meant to be loved, and even if they weren’t quite a family yet, to the twins, they were to Nicky. Even if he was only twenty and what he had to offer could never be enough, they were worth enough for him to try.

[gonnadosomethingwmylife]

It would funny if white collar and criminal minds took place in the same fbi building bc that means when peter and neal are discussing their silly art theft scavenger hunts in the elevator, the bau members are behind them 😭

[two-longing-loves]

i want the twins to be friends. i want them to be able to sit next to each other in comfortable silence in the dining hall. i want aaron to go grocery shopping and andrew to tag along. i want them to play games together where andrew keeps winning. i want andrew to quiz aaron. i want them to joke around. i want them to pull identical twin pranks. i want aaron to look after the cats when neil and andrew are not home for a while. i want them to feel like family, not just a legal obligation.

[agentdilfhotchner]

I know that 62 yr old man would treat me right

[totopopopo]

i keep typing and then deleting a post about self immolation as an act cause i think some people. are kind of missing the point of it. but i also have to go to work soon and don’t have time to get all my thoughts out right now. but bottom line is. the point is to witness the point is to see the point is that it is horrific the point is your attention the point is this is one of the most brave and desperate acts it is not simply suicide and it is not an act of hopelessness it is a human giving their life to something bigger than themself in the hopes that it will make a difference it is a political statement it is a request that you look and listen and act

[youareinlove]

one of the many things i love about mean girls (2004) is that aaron samuels, who's meant to be the main love interest or whatever, could be replaced by a man-shaped vase and nothing would change. he is treated the same way that women are treated in male-led films with male audiences. his role in the story is entirely passive. he's not meant to do anything but stand there, and he's not even supposed to be the pinnacle of attractiveness or anything. he is the most Just A Guy to ever exist. he ken-ed before ken could ken. this movie doesn't pass the reverse bechdel test or the reverse sexy lamp test and it was iconic for that!

[ashleyslorens]

AARON TVEIT & JOJO LEVESQUE Curtain call for Moulin Rouge! The Musical (July 23, 2024) 📸 Avery Brunkus

[milla984]

With Neighbors Like These

Summary: Jack goes away for the weekend and Aaron and Reader can finally have some alone time (inspired by this concept)

Pairing: post season 12 Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: kissing, mutual masturbation, moderate dirty talk, penetrative sex, protected sex, established relationship, unspecified age gap, Hotch dealing with parenting issues, Jack is mentioned but not present

Word Count: 2k

The house was unusually quiet as you walked in, leaving your shoes at the entrance to proceed barefoot towards the small office Aaron had arranged for himself with a few retouches to the spare room in the back.

Despite having a key in case of emergencies and whatnot, like a very good neighbor, it was a common decision you’d only use it on specific occasions and mostly when Jack wasn’t around. A single soccer cleat lay abandoned in a corner in the living room; were it to happen on a regular day you knew the mere sight of it would have sparked a fierce argument, but this morning was different. 

The evening before a very concerned father had driven his fourteen-year-old son to the arranged meeting point, camping gear in tow, and Jack was now enjoying a two nights excursion somewhere in the local woods. You had a feeling that, conversely, Aaron wasn’t getting a kick out of the child-free weekend - confirmed by his rapid typing on the keyboard when you knocked on the wooden frame of the French door to catch his attention.

He looked at you and cracked a smile, still too focused on what he was doing. “It won’t take too long. I promise.”  

You dropped your purse under his chair and hugged him from behind, the scent of his aftershave filling your nose with pure delight.

“Feeling lonely, already?” 

“Why?!” he enquired. “I didn’t have to shout five times to turn off that damn videogame, last night… and nobody guzzled down half a gallon of milk directly from the bottle, at breakfast!”

“You’re also worried, I can tell,” you added and he shrugged, defeated, then went back to focusing on the screen.

He’d been working part-time as an FBI consultant for a law firm for about a year and you had never seen him putting his job before his kid: he was an active member of the PTA and even volunteered to chaperone whenever he could (something that many moms and other dads found incredibly hot, without a doubt). If he was working on a Saturday he was a hundred percent desperate for a distraction.

Your palms brushed over his shoulders and a delicate touch soon turned into a proper massage, kneading his muscles through the polo shirt he was wearing. 

“Relax. You’re too tense,” you mumbled. He had only shared a few unpleasant details about his life as a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in D.C. before he and Jack moved into the neighborhood; nevertheless, it didn’t take a genius to figure out his former employment as an FBI agent had taken a huge toll on both of them.

“I’m not sure I should have signed that consent form,” he confessed. 

“His entire class is with him and his teachers all have cell phones, nothing’s going to happen. Save for a few mosquito bites,” you replied. “And don’t get me wrong... but aren’t you being just a bit overprotective?!”

“Jack told me the same thing when I said I wanted to think about it. Except, he didn’t phrase it so nicely,” Aaron grinned and shook his head while he rose to his feet. “Sorry, enough with the family issues,” he apologized, “it’s a lovely Saturday morning. Have you got any interesting plans?” 

“I have. And they don’t involve homework,” you declared, and as you pushed his laptop to the opposite side of the desk he locked an arm around your waist, his expression reverting to a serious one.

“... so you’re a bad influence.”

The intimidating attitude he could pull off with a single stare never failed to make your legs turn into jelly. 

You lowered your voice to a purr. “You don’t even kn—”

His soft lips pressed onto yours stopped you mid-sentence. The fact he had a teenage son registered in your mind only as a foggy thought and the power he’d had on you since the instant you saw him jogging around the block was almost inexplicable.

“You’re right, no more homework. How about I take you out for lunch?” he proposed and the warmth of his breath on your skin ignited a fire you weren’t at all convinced you could control. Or would.

You hugged him tight, your bodies finally making contact. “How about we take care of something else, first?”

Aaron’s attitude towards romantic relationships exuded manners and consideration, the portrait of a gentleman from a different era, so the response to your suggestion came as a surprise: he’d always shown a preference for the intimacy of his bedroom, even though his palms stroking over your breasts to make your nipples grow stiff and visible through the fabric was the perfect sign he had no intention of wasting any time to move the action upstairs. 

Your tongues lustfully met in a second kiss, prompting you to let out an excited sigh as you blindly undid and removed his belt before letting it fall on the floor with a loud clunk. You reached for his zipper and he sighed in return but gasped a second later when you gave him a light push that forced him to sit down again. 

“Show me how you do it when we’re not together.”

Aaron’s eyes widened - confusion and stupor at the beginning, then the sheer thrill of the idea lit up his gaze. And made him hard entirely.

He sank into the cushion behind his back to finish unzipping his pants and pulling them down his hips so that his swollen erection was only contained by a thin layer of underwear. 

“You’re just going to watch?” he asked, locking eyes with you. You could have sworn that look alone increased the temperature in the room by a couple of degrees. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

You reached under the flowy dress to roll your panties along your thighs, letting them crumple around your ankles; you sat on the desk and lifted the skirt up to your waist, your feet resting on Aaron’s parted knees. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

He swallowed nervously but didn’t miss a movement of your fingers starting to draw circles around your most sensitive spot, guided by the aching tension in your belly; your mouth watered at the sight of his cock whipping free and he noticed, so he took his time to wrap his right hand around it.

You knew how to work his length, moving up and down in slow and long strokes as foreplay, nevertheless witnessing such a handsome man masturbating for you proved to be one of the most lascivious experiences of your life.

“I always think about you when I touch myself…” you confessed, and he held on to your ankle with his free hand while you rubbed your clit. 

“Are you trying to make me lose control?”

You nodded in confirmation and he growled. 

He was now coating his shaft and palm with the leaking precum, using only his index and middle finger to collect some of the slickness and spread it over the bulging head, the exposed glans glistening in the process. That was when he usually begged you to move faster, since his delicate skin was lubricated enough and increased friction meant pleasure - not pain.

“I’m really wet for you,” you teased him, your own desire pooling at your core, but his reaction threw you off balance. 

“Stop, please… stop,” he whimpered, “this is not…”    

His ragged breath made it difficult for him to articulate his words. “I need you.”

You gestured at the purse that was still under his chair and he handed it to you; sharing the house with a teenager meant Aaron had grown accustomed to some of his clean t-shirts randomly disappearing from his drawers and wardrobe, so you both knew nothing out of the ordinary could be hidden among his personal stuff. 

He stared at you, entranced, as you retrieved the small box you’d carried with you and tore one of the foil packages open. 

“A little closer, maybe…?” you joked, and when he stood up you bit your lower lip in anticipation. He kissed you lightly on your forehead as you unrolled the latex down his hardness, then you pinched his chin and smiled at him.

“Better?!”   

He whined again. “Not exactly.”

You grabbed him by the nape of his neck, speaking softly to his ear. “Make me come. I can’t wait anymore.”

The uninhibited request seemed to have flipped a switch in him: the sound of a pencil holder spilling its content made you laugh as Aaron enthusiastically raised your legs in the air and held them to his chest, so he could start rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your folds.

It was torture but he was damn good at it.

When he managed to get himself covered in your arousal he slipped the bulbous head past your entrance. “It’s so big…” you muttered.

Truth be told he wasn’t that well-endowed and you had nothing against it, since you’d never been keen on painful sex, still you welcomed him with a loud moan once he buried himself inside of you. Even a gentleman from another era didn’t mind a bit of flattering and appreciation of his manhood. 

He wasn’t as vocal, though, but his deep groans reverberated in his throat in a manifestation of primal, untamed passion; he looked so solemn it drove you insane, his brows furrowed and tiny droplets of sweat trapped between his short hair, almost as if he was directing all of his energies into screwing your brains out.

When his thrusts grew slower but more intense you wriggled your legs free and locked them around his waist: with a last, fierce grunt he twitched several times and you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment, which was always the biggest turn-on for you.

With your eyes still closed you welcomed the pressure on your lips, a not-so-subtle invitation to take his index and middle finger in your mouth; you sucked on them alternately, happy to oblige, tasting traces of the salty precum. You clawed at his forearm when he brought the wet digits to your clit, rubbing and drawing circles just like you’d shown him before.

“Aaron… I’m…” you mewled, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you - indeed - came with his throbbing cock still inside you, lungs pleading for air and inner muscles clenching around him.

He collapsed on top of you, the additional weight making you realize how harsh the desk’s smooth surface was on your back, yet you cupped his face and stroked his flustered cheeks with your thumbs. 

“I missed you so much,” you breathed out as soon as you were able to.

He pulled out and started to fix his clothes, and before he got rid of the condom he planted the sweetest kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry about the other weekend. Jack wasn’t supposed to play, last minute change of plans—”

“Don’t be sorry, I know you love going to his games,” you said, propping up on one elbow to straighten yourself as he stood in front of you. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your biggest fans, would you?”

He was still heaving a little and looked at you with a pensive pout. “... what?!”

“I mean, you’ve seriously never noticed…?” you locked your hands behind his neck as you tried to come up with a good imitation of the cooing voice of the soccer moms who you knew swarmed the sidelines every time he was present.

“Aaron, can you help us move the coolers? Aaron, we need to rearrange those chairs! Aaron, come here and have some cake! We made it for you ‘cause you’re such a good dad and it’s soooooo hot!”

He laughed, the vibrations in his ribcage making your breasts jiggle, then he gave you his best smile to date. “You’re jealous?!”

You shrugged, holding him closer. “No. To be honest I don’t even blame them, you are a good dad. Which is very hot, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he laughed again as he wrapped you in his arms to kiss you one more time, forcing you to close your eyes and get lost in his tender embrace. You muffled a surprised gasp when he playfully nipped at your earlobe with another heart-stopping smile. 

“But just to be clear…” he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, “it’s usually cookies, not cake!”

NB: I don't really have an Aaron Hotchner fic taglist 'cause I usually write about Spencer Reid but if you wish to be tagged in future Hotch-centric works (SFW or not, who knows?) you can either send me an ask or leave a comment below.

[mossi-dreams]

nothing itches my brain better than the new angle of this scene where you can see the visible scarring on his back like-

idk i fear continuity when it comes to injuries is sooo important to me. this movie is gonna do irreparable damage to me

[smaeemo]

I hate that every man Im attracted to in TV is a middle aged white man, and that every comfort character is an awkward probably autistic queer coded freak