I Want to Hold Your Hand | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau female reader

Summary: Hotch sends you home and you almost die, which only makes him realize how much he truly loves you.

Word count: 2.4k.

Tags/warnings: hurt/little comfort; season 1 Hotch my beloved <3; canon typical violence; Haley and Jack don’t exist in this universe oopsies; angst with happy ending; Hotch is a baby; probably very inaccurate medical talk bc all I know is from Grey’s; not beta read + English isn’t my first language so good luck with that.

Author’s note: remember when I said I was probably done writing for a Hotch? Turns out all I had to do was stop taking my antidepressant 🙄 anyway, don’t get your hopes high. I just needed to take a break from my never-ending Spence fic so I wrote this. Which is basically a rewrite of what happened with Elle. I just wanted to make Hotch suffer a little so I hope you like it!

MASTERLIST

A few hours ago, Aaron kissed the top of your head and sent you back to the hotel with a police officer.

Now, he was in a hospital waiting room with his heart in his throat, hoping the doctor would show up with good news.

You’d been attacked in your hotel room, and it was his fault.

“They’re gonna set up a bed for you in her room.” Jason walked in with a cup of coffee for Aaron. His fourth one already.

“She’s… not out of surgery yet,” Aaron shut his eyes. “We don’t know if —”

“The hospital chief, I know him.” Gideon sort of smiled. “I asked him if he could go check on her. All I know is that they’re closing her up now.”

The words began to sound far and faded as if Aaron was underwater. His vision blurred and his legs would’ve given up if he wasn’t sitting down already.

It was his soul returning to his body.

He didn’t want to get his hopes high, though. If they were closing you up it meant you were alive, but nothing else. There could be a hundred things wrong with you while being alive.

All he could do was nod and put his hands together over his lips like a prayer.

You were alive.

“The doctor should be here with the updates any minute now.” Jason sat next to Aaron and gave him a gentle tap on his back.

Gideon knew. Even when Hotch hadn’t told anyone about his feelings—not even you—he spent most of his day with profilers so of course the best one in his team knew about it.

“I’m heading back to the hotel soon,” Gideon continued. “See what the hell happened. Why… How did they let the unsub enter her room. Garcia should be landing soon. We need to check every security camera.” He smacked his tongue in disappointment and shook his head.

Aaron rose from his seat and tried his best to at least let his shoulders relax but every bit of him had turned into concrete.

“Where are Reid and Morgan?” He asked, pacing back and forth and stretching his neck from one side to the other. Even in moments like this, he needed to know where the rest of his people were. Especially in moments like this.

“Back at the local PD,” Gideon answered.

“JJ?”

“She’s talking to the hotel manager, making sure none of the employees makes any declaration to the press before we catch the guy.”

Aaron nodded, and soon, the doctor walked into the room with the updates.

“Surgery was a success,” he began. “We managed to repair all the damage and save her lung. Now, she flatlined once in the ambulance and then again during surgery so her brain has been through a lot.”

It wasn’t the time to profile anyone, but the way the doctor couldn’t keep eye contact for longer than two seconds told Aaron he was aiming at something more serious.

“Just tell us.” Aaron rubbed his thumb with his fingers.

“She’s not breathing on her own yet and according to her EEG, her last exam, her brain is swollen. It may take her a while to wake up.” The doctor gulped. “If she wakes up.”

Aaron’s entire world crumbled once again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked to a corner to pull himself together.

This was his fault. You might never wake up and it was his fault.

“When can we see her?” Gideon asked for him.

“You can see her now but… you need to be prepared. A machine is breathing for her. There’s a tube down her throat and it might be a lot to look at.”

Just picturing you like that turned his stomach upside down.

God, if you don’t ever wake up—

“She’s gonna wake up.” Penelope’s voice entered the room and so did the light she carried everywhere.

She was one of Aaron’s comfort people. If Penelope was there, there was hope.

“Garcia,” Jason said in a don’t tone.

“She’s strong.” Penelope walked up to Hotch anyway. “And people wake up from comas. Miracles happen and—” Her eyes filled with tears once she touched Hotch’s arm to get his attention. “She needs us, she needs you. And we need her.”

Garcia also knew, apparently. And if she knew without being a profiler, everyone else knew.

“I found this.” She handed Hotch a Polaroid picture of you. You were leaning on Garcia’s desk, your arms folded over your chest and with your sweet, sweet smile. There was the hope. “I took it a while ago and kept it on my desk along with the others but…”

Aaron took it with a shaky hand. You were mesmerizing.

“García,” Gideon insisted.

A nurse interrupted to let them know they could see you now.

“You go,” Gideon said to Hotch, taking a step back. “Just call me if anything changes. Garcia, you’re coming with me.”

“Yes, sir.” Penelope gave Hotch one last hopeful smile before following Jason out.

Aaron looked at your photo again and took deep breaths to gather himself as walked to the endless hall that took him to you.

“We’ll set up your bed in a few.” The nurse smiled at him, gesturing for him to go in. “She looks good. It might not look like it because of all the machines but she’s doing good. She’s a strong woman.”

Aaron said a quiet thanks before the nurse left.

It was just you and him.

The steady beeping of the machine brought him a sense of comfort—it meant you were alive—yet his feet were hesitant to take him next to you. He stood at the door for a moment, watching you from afar.

As the doctor had said, it was a lot to look at. It reminded him of the last time he saw someone close to him like this: his father. The difference was that back then, he couldn’t wait for his dad to die.

Today, he’d found himself praying multiple times to a god he wasn’t even sure existed most times.

He dared to move and when he reached your side, he almost crumbled. You had a few bruises on your left cheek, your knuckles were split—you even had a broken finger, and you looked beautiful as ever. He wished he could see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, catch you smiling at him.

Guilt brewed at the pit of his stomach again. He should’ve gone with you. He should’ve been with you.

He lifted one hand to stroke your head and tears welled up as soon as his skin touched yours. His chin quivered and he sniffled quietly as tears threatened to spill. He used the heel of his hands to dry them away. He couldn’t cry, even if you were in a coma and couldn’t see him like this—broken. You believed people’s energy had effects on others, and you needed him to be strong. He needed to be more like you.

His bed was set soon after, right next to you. His eyes were heavy, and his muscles were sore. Even then, he couldn’t bring himself to lie down. He was scared to close his eyes. What if you died while he was asleep? He stayed sitting down, holding your hand and never losing sight of you.

“It’s raining,” he said out loud, talking to you. “Every time it rains I think of you.”

He smiled at the memories. You’d shown up at his office for your interview drenching, and he was smitten from the very first moment he laid eyes on you.

“Agent Hotchner,” your perky voice caught him off guard. No one inside the BAU building was perky—besides Garcia.

You stood by the door, both hands behind your back waiting for his signal to come in.

“Please.” He gestured with his hand to the seat across from him.

He took half a second to study you quickly. Raindrops were gathered over the shoulders of your blazer and your mascara was a bit smudged under your eyes.

“Forgot your coat, agent?” He commented, peeling his eyes off you and reading through your resume.

“Didn’t think I’d be raining by the time I arrived, sir. I don’t keep an umbrella in my car either. I apologize for my… appearance.”

It wasn’t your appearance that got you on his team, it was your outstanding resume. It made him wonder why you chose to apply to the Behavioral Analysis Unit instead of staying at ViCAP. Your performance there was impeccable.

“I wasn’t feeling comfortable there anymore,” was your answer. “And I want to seek other paths, sir. And I know I’m a good fit for your team.”

You started the very next day, and he partnered up with you to keep an eye on you during your first cases. You were a quick thinker, were fast on your feet, and stayed calm under critical situations.

Not once he felt at a disadvantage in the field for working with the new kid, which only showed him how good you naturally were. He was drawn to you and it wasn’t just because of your professionalism.

It was your fast food order. It was the first joke you ever made that only made him laugh. It was your perfume, the way you spoke with your hands, and how you raised your brows when making a point.

Everything about you made him take a deep breath. You made him dizzy. Lightheaded. Drunk.

Exactly how he felt right now while holding your hand, except that now, the room was spinning at the mere thought of losing you.

“I love you,” he murmured, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your bruised knuckles with shaky lips. “I love you.”

He’d never said it before. He didn’t know he did until now.

“God, I love you so much. From the moment I saw you, you lit up my life. You made it better, made me better.” He kept talking to you, hoping that his voice would heal everything inside you. “I can’t lose you. I won’t make it.”

Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.

The rain stopped, the hours passed, and the sun never came out.

It’d been two weeks and he’d already made the habit of reading you at night.

“Studies have shown that playing music they really like and talking to the person in a coma increases their chances of waking up,” Spencer had said the day the entire team came to visit you.

Most nights he read case files. Others, he liked to read poetry.

You still hadn’t woken up, but the music, the poetry, and the flowers didn’t stop.

“I hope you don’t mind if I read something by Neruda,” Aaron said as he sat on the chair next to you. “Maybe not Neruda.”

It was one of those nights where hope had watered down with his tears.

He put the book down next to you and held your hand. He hadn’t stopped holding your hand; he hadn’t stopped kissing it either. He sighed deeply and stood up to draw the blinds, turning his back to you.

A loud smack against the floor startled him, making him turn around. The book he’d left next to you had fallen. He didn’t think he’d left it at the edge of the bed, but he picked it up without much curious and went to put it where it was.

Your hand twitched when he grazed your knuckles casually.

Then it twitched again—harsher—and a soft whimper came from your chest. That sound definitely came out of your body.

Aaron was quick to check on you, towering over you and watching you closely. Your eyelids started to move and the next thing he knew, he was making eye contact with you.

Those beautiful twinkling eyes took his breath away.

“We need a doctor in here!” He was quick to react, pressing the call button.

Nurses stormed inside and moved him out of the way to assist you.

“She’s awake. She’s fighting the tube,” was all he heard before a thousand tingles rushed through him.

You were awake.

Your doctor arrived soon after to examine you and Aaron stood there as they took the tube out.

You coughed and writhed with discomfort.

“Can you tell me your name?” Your doctor moved a small flashlight in front of your eyes.

You blinked a few times and searched around the room. Your eyes landed on Aaron. “Hotch?”

Your soft voice traveled to him and enveloped his heart, mending every bit that was broken.

“Hi,” he merely said.

You shook your head and said your name instead. Your doctor asked some more questions like your birthday, where you worked at and what was the last thing you remembered, and the entire time your eyes were trained on Aaron.

“It’s vague.” You took a sharp breath. “I think I was attacked but I don’t know how. I can assume by this unglued scar, though.” You put your palm on your chest.

“We’re still going to do some tests,” Your doctor said. “But you’re great. Pupils are responsive, your lungs sound healthy and there are no signs of brain damage. No memory loss. No speech loss either.”

“How soon can she go home?” Aaron asked, taking another step closer. He finally stood by your side, and you reached for his hand.

This was you. Sweet and caring even at your worst.

“I’d like to keep her under observation for a couple of days, then she can go. But just so you know, you can’t fly for at least two weeks after open-chest surgery.”

The doctor gave you some other indications before leaving, then it was just the two of you as it’d been for the past two weeks. Though now he got to see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, and catch you smiling at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, tilting your head to the side like a puppy.

“I sent you away and—“ he raised his brows.

“Don’t.” You squeezed his hand. “Don’t do that. Don’t… blame yourself.”

“I should’ve come with you. I should’ve— god, you almost died. You almost died,” he repeated in a whisper, shutting his eyes with pain.

The guilt was still there.

“But I didn’t.”

“I was so scared,” he admitted, daring to look back at you.

“I… don’t remember much. Just bits and pieces but I do remember that I wasn’t scared. I think. I… channeled you at that moment.” You laughed. “I remember thinking, Hotch wouldn’t be scared, he would put up a fight, so I did. I fought the guy, which got me almost killed but I wasn’t scared.” You lifted your hand and cradled his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “You have a beard.”

He chuckled. “Barely.”

“It looks good. I like it.”

He didn’t like it much, but he was grateful it was there so you wouldn’t see how hard he was blushing. He poured you some water and handed it you to distract himself from it.

“Where are we?” You then asked, taking a sip from the straw.

“Seattle.” Aaron raised his brows while licking his lips.

Last time you two were in Seattle, you’d kissed for the first time.

“Oh,” you mirrored his smirk. “So that’s gonna be like a three-day road trip back to Quantico?”

“It’s either that or two more weeks in Seattle until you can fly there,” he responded.

“Both sound amazing, don’t you think?” you scanned his face up and down and heat rushed to his cheeks again. “Thank you for staying with me, Aaron.”

I love you, he thought.

“How could I not?” he said instead.

Never said there would be a love confession now did I 🤭 But don’t worry, hotch confesses his love during the road trip <33333 also the title is a The Beatles song bc he played The Beatles a lot while reader was in a coma. And bc he held her hand a lot.

I hope you liked it!!!!

Office Sleepover - A.H

a/n: this is honestly kind of shit but whatever

might make this a mini series?

part two here!

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)

warnings: reader kind of flashes hotch, really inconsistent with how the gov works i'm sure, there's also definitely not an oven in the break room but in my world there is <3

wc: 3.8k

Hotch's voice reached you, but the words tangled into an indecipherable code as they hit the air. You nodded, a reflex, but it was as if your brain had short-circuited. You could make out fragments--a hit on you, stay at office, 24/7 protection, you can take the back office. But no matter how many times he said it, it seemed to ricochet through your head, making less sense each time. You were on a hit list? A hit list?

It all felt very made up, like a script ripped straight out of a tv show. Risk was a part of the BAU job description, but a hit list? For a fleeting moment, a chuckle hovered at the brink of your lips, but it was swiftly swallowed by a wave of dread that rose in its place. You blinked a couple times, probably too many in a vain attempt to clear the fog and bring Hotch's face into focus.

"But what about all my stuff? And you want me to camp out here in the office? For how long, Hotch? I mean, I'm all for overtime, but this is... this is a lot, and I--," you babble, your speech racing ahead of your thoughts. "And my baking? That's my biggest stress reliever. Not to mention my DIY projects--I can't just abandon my half-finished throw pillowcases. Plus, how many pairs of shoes is too many for an office closet?"

Your pout formed a delicate bow, and though he said nothing, his eyes softened. Hotch could feel the frown marring his features. He might never say it, but seeing you like this struck a chord, making it a little hard to breathe. 

Circling the desk, he planted himself in front of you, his hand settling on your shoulder. "Hey, take a deep breath," he urges softly. "Let's take it one step at a time. List out what you need, someone will bring it here. Your baking supplies, DIY projects, even your shoes."

True to Hotch's word, as usual, you found every piece of your life carefully compartmentalized into cardboard boxes, lined up carefully in the office that now doubled as your temporary room. There was an odd sense of dislocation in finishing your workday and needing only to count about thirty steps before arriving at your room.

You swung the door closed, the sound sealing the room as a deep sigh wrapped around you and you started sifting through the boxes. The pullout couch serving as your bed was less than appealing, its worn fabric making you grimace internally. Nevertheless, you diverted your attention, busying yourself with the organizing of your extensive collection of things. Spencer would definitely shake his head at the sight of the vast amount of clothes you had brought.

The irony wasn't lost on you; surrounded by the office's ceaseless motion, yet you felt more alone than in the stillness of your own apartment. God, this was pathetic, and you needed a drink, but you had a nagging suspicion the office handbook would have a thing or two to say about that. You spent a solid two hours attempting to infuse the sterile space with a touch of home, it wasn't perfect (at all), but it would have to do.

Rossi knocks on the doorframe, poking his head in with a grin. "I didn't realize we were redecorating the bureau in shades of bubblegum," he teases. "How you doing, kid?"

"Actually, it's blush," you correct with a mock-serious tone, meeting his smile with one of your own. "I'm fine," you insist, but Rossi's knowing look prompts a quick add-on. "I am, really, I mean I've always said I wanted my own office."

"An office with a view of the bullpen, no less. You're living the dream," he says, his eyes scanning the room. "Need any help with anything? Or anything else from your place? Maybe your favorite mug to make feel more like home?"

"Don't worry, I'm already one step ahead of you," you assure him, revealing a drawer brimming with mugs.

Rossi lets out a low appreciative whistle. "Why am I not surprised?" he chuckles with a broad grin. "Well, I'm heading out for the night. Remember, I'm just a call away if you need anything. And Hotch is still here, buried in paperwork as usual."

He left, and you were alone--a cue to try and cling to some normalcy of your routine; you drew the blinds and slipped into the comfort of your pajamas. You hauled yourself off to the office bathroom, reluctantly at that, and proceeded to attend to your skincare, brush your hair, and polish your smile with a thorough teeth brushing.

Eyeing the hallway warily, you made a silent exit from the bathroom, the carpet softening your footfalls. But in your rush to avoid prying eyes, you crashed into a solid wall of a figure, the force sending you tumbling backward. You hit the floor with a muted thud, your ass hitting the ground, legs splayed inelegantly in front of you. Your eyes rose to meet the firm, penetrating look of Hotch. Of fucking course.

There was a pause as Hotch's eyes drank in the sight of your flushed complexion and the wide, doe-like eyes that seemed to capture the light just so. He felt like his heart could stop then and there. And he knew it was wrong, but he certainly liked the sight of you sprawled below him. He blinked, breaking the trance, and offered a concerned, "Are you okay?" His hands were outstretched, ready to pull you back to your feet. 

Your cheeks turned a deeper shade as you held onto Hotch's hand, the feeling unexpectedly comforting, rough in yours but nice. "What? Oh, yeah, I'm all good, sorry about that," you managed to say, the words squeaking out a tad too eagerly. 

You stood up, and his closeness was all-consuming. You were suddenly intensely aware of every breath, every throb of your heart, and your mind went blank; the usual stream of thoughts replaced by a buzzing silence.

His eyes held yours for a fraction longer than necessary before he stepped back, creating a respectful distance. The hallway's warmth seemed to dissipate with the space, leaving you with an unexpected stab of disappointment. 

"Rossi said you'd be here. Anything I can do to help?" 

You rationalized the offer as a gesture of your goodwill, but a small part, well a big part, of you knew just wanted to be close to him, to be alone with him maybe--in the office, after hours, in his office. This was weird, I mean, you'd always admired your Unit Chief, but this was different. You chalked it up to the day's unfortunate series of events--you were tired, and lonely, and you needed desperately to snap out of it before you made a fool out of yourself.

"No, you need to rest. It's been a long day, and you've been through enough." He paused, his gaze assessing you. "How are you holding up?"

"At this rate, I'll need a sign that says 'I'm fine,' to stop the check-ins." Although you silently doubted that would deter him. You gesture to the surroundings. "And this? It's like a sleepover at work. Just hoping this so-called hit man doesn't show up."

Hotch internally recoiled at your words, leaving him with the sensation of a cold grasp tightening around his heart. He cleared his throat, the joke falling flat in the gravity of his concern. "I'll be here for a while longer. If you need anything, don't hesitate to come find me," he managed a nod before retreating to his office.

A while longer? You knew Hotch was a workaholic, but it now occurred to you that he must never sleep. Quickly, you gathered your scattered belongings, and made your way to your office.

The pull-out couch seemed even less inviting than you remembered, if that was possible. You perched on the edge, the metallic frame cold through the thin mattress. As you lay down, the couch seemed to swallow you in its awkward angles. Perfect. Tossing and turning, you struggled to find a comfortable spot. Eventually, exhaustion won over discomfort, the rhythm of your own breathing lulling you into a fitful sleep.

Your eyes flickered open at some point during the night and the blinds drifted apart, as if by an unseen hand, and through the gap, your eyes fell on a hooded figure, the face not visible in the dim light. Your muscles locked in terror, an icy fear clawing its way up your spine as you tried to move--to reach for your gun, to call out for Hotch, to do anything. But as if imprisoned by an invisible force, you could only watch, confined to the bed, as the figure crept towards the door. 

A scream tore from your throat, a raw and piercing sound that ricocheted off the walls and echoed through your eyes. This was it, you thought. 

Then, in an instant, you were awake and disoriented, your breaths coming in short bursts, and your body covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Your fingers clenched the sheets, the fabric twisting in your grasp as you fought to decipher what was reality. Your eyes snapped to the blinds, half-expecting to see the figure from your dream materialize, but the emptiness beyond them slowly calmed your racing heart.

With a throat dry as parchment and your pulse still echoing in your ears, you drifted from your room towards the break room. As you ambled past Hotch's office, you paused. The door, slightly ajar, felt like an invitation. Despite knowing better, a foggy curiosity nudged your feet forward. With a shaky breath, you eased the door open wider and slipped inside. 

His office felt different at night--it was quieter, more personal, and you felt like an intruder on Hotch's private world. You took a moment, absorbing the sight of his meticulously organized desk, the case files that were always present.

It was tempting to try to piece together the man from his workspace, but you held back. As you turned to leave, a familiar scent stopped you--the subtle hint of his cologne hanging in the air. It wrapped around you, easing the tension that had sunk into your limbs. Almost without thinking, you found yourself sinking into the couch.

The room, infused with his distinct scent, seemed to have your blinking growing heavier, more intentional. You nestled deeper into the cushions; the fabric familiar beneath your fingers, lulling you into a sense of security. Just five minutes, you thought.

Hotch's steps were slow, his eyelids having a hard time staying open as he made his way through the bullpen. He carried his briefcase, the leather handle worn and conformed to his hand. He contemplated a detour to your office, a silent check-in to ease his mind, but he dismissed the idea--you were probably still asleep, and he'd definitely look like a creep. Reaching his own office, he noticed the door ajar, a sliver of morning light spilling through the gap.

He stepped into the room, and time seemed to stand still as his gaze landed on the couch. There you were, fast asleep on his couch. Your hand lay gently under your cheek, a makeshift pillow softening the hard angles beneath, while your nose gave the faintest twitches. Your lips were parted as if mid-whisper and strands of your hair were splayed in a disarrayed crown around your head. He knew that in no way could that have been comfortable. It hurt his back just looking at you, but still you looked so peaceful.

He moved with quiet steps, heat creeping up his neck as he placed his things on the desk. Turning back to you, he couldn't help but notice the gentle dishevelment of your pajamas, buttons undone in innocent disarray, the fabric parting to reveal the gentle slope of your breasts. He felt an odd mix of emotions--a gentle chiding for finding you in such state, and the guilt of finding the sight so undeniably sweet. 

A quiet cough escaped him, more out of habit than necessity, as he approached a cabinet where blankets were neatly stacked--a nod to many nights spent just as you were. He draped one over you, his movements slow and unhurried, shielding you from potential curious eyes before finding his normal place behind the wooden desk.

He tried to focus--really, he did. I mean, he had a towering pile of paperwork and responsibilities that demanded his attention. But despite his best efforts, his gaze involuntarily drifted to you time and time again. It was as if he needed visual confirmation of your steady breathing to assure himself that you were okay. He thought about you here all night, alone, and he found his knuckles whiten against the grip of his pen. He knew you had security on you at all times, but somehow, he found no comfort in that.

Hotch's eyes flicked to the clock--7:30 am. You still had at least another half an hour before you technically needed to start work, although truth be told he would let you sleep as long as your body allowed. There was no way in hell he was going to disturb you when you looked so content. 

As Hotch worked, the morning light grew stronger, casting a warm glow over his desk. It was nearly 9 am when the sound of shifting fabric eventually roused you. You were waking up, blinking away the remnants of sleep, confusion etched on your face. As your eyes caught sight of the clock and Hotch, mortification set it. 

"Oh my gosh, Hotch. I am so sorry," you blurted out, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. "You could've woken me up--I... I should've set an alarm. And I shouldn't even be here, but I can explain, sort of..."

In a flurry of motion, you leapt from the couch, only to feel a sudden tug at your chest as a button from your top snagged on a stray thread. The fabric pulled open, revealing way more than what was appropriate for your boss to see. Your face turned a shade redder as you scrambled to cover up. Hotch, momentarily sidetracked by the sight of the cleavage of your tits once again, quickly refocused and interrupted your flustered explanations.

"It's fine," he assured. "Given everything that's happened, you needed the rest." He nodded towards the couch. "You're always welcome to sleep here if you need to--though I can't promise it'll be any more comfortable next time."

"Oh no, it was super comfortable, really," you insist, despite the awkwardness clinging to your words. Hotch gives you a look that says he's not entirely convinced. "Okay, well, I'm going to uh... go," you mumble, stopping short at the door with a sudden concern.

Hotch understands immediately and offers, "They're all in the briefing room--won't be out for a while."

With a relieved nod, and minimal eye contact, you dash out, hoping to reach your office unnoticed. But because the world just hated you these past days, just as you're rushing by, Morgan's hands come to your shoulders to stop you.

"Easy there, mama," he teases, a smile on his face. But as he gets a good look at your attire, his grin grows wider. "What in the world...?" he starts, laughter in his voice. He glances from you to Hotch's office door, then back again. "Hold up, hold up--you didn't... with Hotch? Are you?"

"What? No, Morgan, absolutely not! Why would you even--oh my god," you gasp, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. God, I mean, the day hasn't even started, and you needed it to end. Realizing your voice has risen in your flustered state, you quickly lower it to a harsh whisper, your eyes darting around to ensure no one overheard. "Why would you even suggest that?"

"Um, maybe because you're making a grand exit from the boss man's office in your PJs? Just a wild guess."

"No, Morgan, it's not what you think," you insist, but your attention snaps to the sound of the team's voices nearing the door. "I don't have time for this," you mutter, darting back to your office. 

In a whirlwind, you shed the pajamas, slip into your work attire, and hastily run a brush through your hair. Good enough. 

You threw yourself into work, the stack of papers becoming a welcome distraction, a rare sense of relief rather than the familiar dread. It was a considerable effort to divert your mind from the distractions--Hotch, the hit man, and Morgan's incessant teasing. Not that anyone would believe that you and Hotch were together; he was the very definition of sophisticated, handsome, and successful, and you were just, well, you.

Not that there was anything wrong with you. You liked yourself just fine; you laughed too loudly at jokes, talked to your houseplants as if they were your old friends, and you had an odd fascination with weather patterns. These things made you wholly you. You just knew you couldn't be more different from Hotch.

With a bit of luck and purposeful avoiding, your day passed smoothly, sparing you any unnecessary run-ins with Hotch. Everyone had gone home for the day which is why you stood in the break room attempting some baking recipe from Pinterest. 

The slippers on your feet padded against the carpet as you hummed around the room. With swift motions, you ushered the coffee cake batter into the oven, then turned to tackle the mess you had created on the countertops. Cleaning as you go wasn't your usual style, but office break room didn't seem like the place for your usual creative sprawl. 

Your phone had buzzed incessantly with Penelope's calls--her offers the keep you company is why you loved her, but you weren't going to subject her to that, no matter how many times she said she didn't mind.

Hotch's office was quiet, save for the soft scratching of his pen against paper as he finally closed his files. He moved into bullpen and as he passed the breakroom, the soft hum of the light and faint sound of movement drew him in. There you were, engrossed in tidying up, with your hair casually gathered above your shoulders and wearing your sweats, Hotch found him instinctively pausing to watch. 

He knew he shouldn't bother you, knew he was likely the last person you'd want to see, yet he found himself rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on you, the warmth in his chest intensifying with each fleeting second.

The moment you turned and saw a figure, a sharp gasp cut through the silence, and the icing in your grasp became a sweet projectile that flew across the room. Relief washed over you as you realized who it was.

"Jeez, Hotch, give me a heart attack why don't you," you said, half-laughing as your heart rate settled. "Especially when there's a hitman who might beat you to the punch."

Hotch parted his lips to speak, but you were quicker, a stream of thoughts tumbling out before you could stop them. "I thought everyone was gone. You weren't at your desk earlier--oh wait, you had that meeting with the DOJ, right? Did they have anything about the people who marked me?" 

In your haste, you closed the gap between you, and only then did you spot the icing on his cheek. "Oh, sorry about that, Hotch," you said with an apologetic grin, reaching out as if to wipe it away. 

As your palm made contact with his skin, a shared realization of the intimacy of the gesture washed over you. Time seemed to slow as your thumb traced a lingering path through the icing, your whisper barely audible, "There."

The word seemed to hang in the air as you froze, the proximity suddenly overwhelming, your breath caught in your throat. Hotch's backward step was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. You cleared your throat awkwardly, cheeks warming with a flush. "Um, did you need something?"

Hotch shook his head slightly, "No, just wanted to check on you before I head out."

You gave a thumbs up, mustering a smile. "Well, consider me checked."

Hotch nodded, his expression unreadable. "Goodnight," he said, to which you echoed in response as you watched him leave.

Alone now, you slumped against the counter, your hand pressed to your face. Consider me checked? God, someone needed to tape your mouth shut.

Aaron + fbi best

Taglist- @mvndfvelds | @mindfullycriminal | @luce-reid | @khxna | @il0vebeingdelulu | @lover-of-books-and-tea | @jaden-reid

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Hiii! Would you be able to write a Hotch x female reader smut where he has an innocence kink ? Maybe virgin reader as well?

This was so much fun to write! Let me know if I should do a part 2 about reader touching Aaron for the first time! 🥰

Warnings; innocence kink, virgin reader, first time, oral, fem receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, cursing, phone sex kinda, dirty talking

Word Count: 5.9k

Aaron was well aware of the fact that you had never been touched. You had sheepishly told him during a heavy make out session one night months ago, but you had given him the okay to take your virginity whenever he saw fit. The opportunity hadn't arose for Aaron to make it special for you yet, so it hadn't came up, but he was aching to touch you. Given the fact that he'd be the only man to ever have his hands on you, it made his head spin—but the effect you had on him was dizzying nonetheless.

He often thought about using his mouth to spread you open, how you would taste writhing under his touch. He'd day dream about giving you your first orgasm, what you'd look like coming undone under the mercy of his tongue. He'd fuck his fist to the thought of you naked and ready for him, his cock throbbing at the image of him slipping into you, going as slow as possible as he gently eased into you. He'd lost count at how many times he'd had an orgasm thinking about giving you pleasure for the first time.

Aaron had decided he'd try to initiate things when he came home. He was still away on a case for now, missing you terribly. He'd just gotten back to his hotel for the night when he decided it wasn't too late to call you, sitting down on the edge of his bed with a heavy sigh as the phone rang in his ear.

"Hi baby," you greeted him, thrilled to hear his voice. You'd been thinking of him nonstop, and you were happy he'd called, even if it was only for a few minutes before bed.

"Hi, sweetheart. I hope it isn't too late, I just couldn't stop thinking about you," he admitted, the heat rising to his cheeks when he realized how bad he had it for you—he was absolutely smitten, as in love as he could possibly get with no chance of slowing down any time soon.

"You can call me whenever you want, you know that," you assured him, just thankful to hear his voice. You worried more than usual when he was away, often afraid of what might happen to him, and not being able to stop it.

"Tell me about your day, don't leave anything out," he asked, and he listened happily as you told him about the mundane parts of your day and how work had been. Your evening had been more than uneventful as you'd spent most of it on the couch, glass of wine in tow, thinking about the man that you loved. You'd been ready to give your body to him for longer than you wanted to admit, but he'd been waiting patiently for what he thought was the right time. You told him you were ready whenever he was, and until he decided it was perfect, you'd be happy to wait.

Aaron was having a hard time holding back with you. Every time you were in his bed, he wanted to give himself to you in as many possible ways as he could. He'd already decided when it happened, it would be all about you—he'd spend the entire evening making sure you knew what real pleasure was before he ever did anything selfishly. Getting the privilege of touching you was a reward enough in his eyes; if he had anything to say about it, he'd be the only person to touch you in your life—he wanted forever with you.

"Any chance I'll get to sleep next to you soon?" You asked him, holding your breath for the answer; you knew sometimes it took a while to finish up on cases, and you didn't expect this to be any different.

"I hope we can wrap things up in the next day or so. Having you in my bed has been on my mind heavily," he chuckled, and you quickly started to piece together that his words had more than one meaning.

"You can have me whenever you want," you breathed, anxious to hear what he had to say back. Sometimes Aaron didn't pick up on your flirtiness, or if he did, he wasn't sure what to do about it. That wasn't the case this time—he had heard you loud and clear.

"I've got plans involving you and my bed when I get home. But I'm taking you out first, spoiling you as much as I can," his voice had gotten dangerously low, causing a shiver down your spine at the implication that it would be happening, and sooner than you thought.

"Oh? Sounds like I need to buy something to wear," you'd use any excuse to find something to look good for him in, and you'd spied a red dress at a boutique earlier in the week that was dying to be worn, and now you had the perfect reason to buy it.

"Something that's relatively easy to take off, I hope," he joked, but it caused the heat to pool between your thighs at the thought of him undressing you.

"I'm sure you know your way around a zipper," you chirped back, and he laughed, making you smile wide. It was one of your favorite sounds, and he seemed to be doing it more often with you around.

"I'll manage regardless. You know, I don't think you understand how special it is to me that you're letting me be your first," it was more than special to him—it was something sacred that he'd cherish forever. He thought you were the most incredible person he'd ever met—he hadn't been expecting you, but he'd fallen for you so quickly that anything before you seemed irrelevant. You'd been so accepting of him and Jack, loving the two of them unconditionally and becoming someone Jack could depend on as well. Jack had spent plenty of nights at your apartment while Aaron was away on a case, spending time with you, bonding. The two of you were close, and Aaron loved that. It filled him with so much adoration for you that sometimes he wondered how he ever lived so long without you.

"You know, it would make me really happy if you were the only person to ever touch me," you told him, met with a harsh gulp on the other end of the line. Aaron opened his mouth, but nothing would come out—he was stunned into silence, but his mind was running rampant. You wanted him forever, and that was hard for him to process at first. He'd never expected you to say it, although he'd known for a while now that you were what he wanted too. You were the perfect match for him, and he'd do anything in his power to keep you around for as long as possible.

"Do you mean that?" He didn't mean to doubt you—more than anything, he just needed the reassurance of your love, in whatever form you could give it to him.

"Of course I do. Honestly, Aaron... It's all I think about," you felt a bit bashful admitting it, but given your inexperience, when Aaron agreed to be your first, the thoughts of what exactly that entailed invaded your mind and wouldn't get out. In the shower, on the way to work—but especially now, when you were alone in bed late at night. Sometimes you'd think about touching yourself, but you weren't sure what would feel good, and you knew waiting on Aaron would be worth it in the long run.

"Oh, sweetheart... I've imagined it so many times, all of the ways I'm going to make you feel so good," he purred, and you found yourself nearly whimpering at his words, melting at his deep, silky voice and his promise to give you what you'd been craving for so long.

"Me too. I can't wait to feel your hands, what they feel like on my body. I can't wait to make you feel good too—I really want to touch you, Aaron," you were a soaked mess, and hearing him groan on the other end of the line wasn't helping any.

"Sweet girl, don't worry about me. All I want you to concern your pretty little head with is enjoying yourself. You've gone so long untouched...I can't wait for you to know what it feels like, to see what you look like when you have your first orgasm," you released a breath you didn't even know you'd been holding, more than curious as to what it would feel like. You had no doubt he'd be loving, careful with you, and you were excited to learn all of the ways you could touch him too. You'd done some research, so you weren't completely naive, and you were hoping he'd give you the chance to show him what you learned.

"Come home to me soon, please. I don't know if I can go much longer without you," you whined, knowing he couldn't help it, but you wanted him back so terribly, you were willing to go to Ohio to solve the case on your own if it meant bringing him back sooner.

"I know, sweetheart. Going to pick you up as soon as I get back, keep you at my place for as long as I can. I can't wait to kiss you...all over, every inch of you," he told you, making your toes curl up in anticipation at what was to come—you could hardly contain yourself.

"Wish you could feel me right now; my panties are ruined," Aaron's cock throbbed against the hem of his slacks, precum no doubt staining his boxers as he palmed himself without abandon, licking his lips at the thought of dragging his tongue through your center, watching your eyes roll back as he fucked you with his tongue.

"I'm dying to taste you, baby. Going to spend half of the night between your legs; I can't wait to learn your body," you could hear the desperation laced in his words, and you knew he was probably aching to be touched just as badly as you were.

"Been dreaming about tasting you too, Aaron. I want to try everything with you," Aaron was coming unraveled at your words, nearly ready to cum in his pants at the idea of your lips wrapped around his cock. He let his eyes close and pictured you on your knees, his cock in your hand as you looked to him to teach you what to do. He couldn't wait to show you, to guide you through everything for the first time. Your lack of experience was something that Aaron found himself pondering on often. You were gorgeous—plenty of people saw that. People should've been lining up to want their shot at you, and you hadn't hesitated to tell him you'd been asked out a lot, but no one had caught your interest like he did.

He felt like the most special man in the world.

Every time he kissed you, he wondered how he got so lucky. You were a godsend, and he was going to keep you in his life permanently, if you'd let him. He was addicted to you—he had to be careful at work or his thoughts would run wild, trained on you and the things you made him feel. He hadn't loved anyone in a long time, and he certainly hadn't expected it to come so easily. The words had rolled off his tongue the first time, and after a sweet but greedy kiss, you were telling him that you loved him too, and he could breathe a sigh of relief that you wanted to be kept by him.

"I'll teach you whatever you want to learn, sweetheart. I love you so much, all I want is for you to be happy."

He smiled when he heard your cute little breathless laugh on the other end, and he could practically hear the smile on your face as you spoke. These little things you did without even realizing it were Aaron's green light to fall head over heels for you, because it was obvious you were doing the same.

"I love you, Aaron. I've never been so happy in my life," you promised him, yawning into the receiver as you came to lay on the pillows, putting your phone on speaker.

"Sweet girl, get some sleep. I'll text you in the morning, I'm going to try my best to make it home to you soon," he wouldn't rest until they'd put this case behind them and he was on the jet coming back to you.

"I know you will. Sweet dreams, Aaron. I love you," he was quick to tell you back, hanging up the phone and laying back on his bed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. He knew he'd have to go slow when he finally had you, or else he'd get ahead of himself. He was already going mad at the mere thought, what your soft, delicate body would feel like, the sweet taste of your arousal as he finally had the privilege of tasting you. The thoughts were overwhelming until Derek knocked on his door to tell him there was a break in the case and that they were needed with the Local PD.

✨✨✨

When morning came, your first order of business was to find something that would drive Aaron wild. You got dressed and drove straight to the boutique where you'd seen the red dress, not thinking twice when you swiped your card. You did a little more shopping, deciding on a lacy white bra and panty set that you knew would get him going, and by the time you stopped for coffee, he was calling.

"Hi baby," he nearly melted at your words every time you spoke, that was nothing new for him. He loved your voice, to listen to you talk about any and everything that was on your mind.

"Hi sweetheart. I'll be home in a couple of hours. If you want to be ready, I'll pick you up and we'll go out to dinner," Aaron had already picked the place—it was one of the nicest spots in town, and he knew you would love it. Afterwards, he planned to bring you home, make you as comfortable as possible before the rest of your evening began. He knew you'd been waiting far too long, and he himself had been bouncing off the rafters waiting for the night to come. In just a few short hours, he'd finally have you.

"I'll be ready. I can't wait to see you," you told him, but Aaron was equally excited to see you. If he could will the jet to go faster, he would—a 3 and a half hour flight seemed like forever when he knew you were waiting for him.

"I'm so excited, sweetheart. Remember, all about you tonight. I hope you're ready," you could hear the want in his voice, his eagerness to have your body, it made you feel like one of the most coveted women alive.

"More than ready," you assured him, wishing him a safe flight as he got ready to take off, leaving you to get ready, making sure every aspect of your hair and outfit was perfect by the time Aaron arrived.

You'd checked your appearance nearly a dozen times in the mirror when he knocked on the door, giving you no more time to second guess yourself. You felt silly for ever doubting yourself when you opened the door and saw Aaron's reaction to your outfit. The collar of his black dress shirt grew tight as he reached for your waist to pull you in closer, his lips brushing your jaw before he came in for a kiss.

"Sweetheart, I don't know what to say. I've never seen anything quite like you before," he whispered against your lips, his hand coming to cup your face as he let his eyes trail over your body once more. The truth was, you'd stunned him into silence—no one had ever went out of their way to want to look good for him, and it only solidified his thoughts that you were meant for him completely.

"You look so good, Aaron," you told him before kissing him again, your fingers on his collar, tugging him closer. He let his arms wrap around you, forgetting where you were momentarily as his tongue slipped into your mouth. You whimpered softly, which only made Aaron come closer, his hands roaming your body openly, hidden only by the darkness surrounding the two of you. It took everything in him to pull away from you, wanting to march you inside and undress you before you'd even eaten. With one last kiss, he led you to the car, moving the center console up so you could sit next to him in the middle. His hand found yours, holding it tightly as he navigated you through the city.

Aaron had chosen a ridiculously fancy restaurant, the two of you skipping wine and opting for water. You wanted a clear head and assumed he felt the same. His eyes never left you once, only briefly while he ordered his food. His hand reached for yours across the table and you took it happily, smiling back at him over the table. He was breathtaking in all black, your mind honed in on the idea of stripping him down, kissing every inch of his sexy broad chest and his long arms. You knew by the gleam in his eye that his thoughts were similar, and even though the conversation was light throughout dinner, the sexual tension was heavy and thick enough to slice with a butter knife.

Aaron couldn't stop thinking about how good you looked. He knew from the men who were shamelessly throwing glances in your direction that he was a lucky man, and he'd never do anything to jeopardize his relationship with you. He'd decided early on that he'd do anything he could to keep you, wanting you around more every time he saw you. That still hadn't changed—he craved your presence, uneasy if he wasn't around you.

By the time you left the restaurant, Aaron's palms were sweaty and his mouth was dry. The closer he got to his house, the harder it became to pay attention to the road and not to you—your hand was on his thigh, absentmindedly brushing against him, and it was making it difficult for him to concentrate. His free hand moved to your bare thigh, feeling your satiny smooth skin; he sighed to himself, wondering if you were this soft everywhere. He had no doubt that you were, and it was all for him.

Once you were finally at his house, he led you inside, opting to bring you straight to the bedroom. He closed the door gently behind him, watching you closely as you sat on the edge of the bed. He came to stand in front of you, silently reaching for your foot so he could remove your heels. He let them fall to the floor, his eyes traveling up your legs until he was looking into your eyes.

Aaron was feeling an abundance of emotions all at once. He was overcome with so much love for you that he wasn't sure what to do with himself. He was only a little nervous, but mostly because he was afraid you wouldn't enjoy yourself—he tried not to let the doubt creep into his mind and ruin the evening though. You were both consenting adults, and you wanted this just as badly as him—he knew that for a fact. He was especially eager—he had been since your phone conversation the night before, thinking about it long after you'd hung up for the night.

"You're so gorgeous, sweetheart. I can't keep my eyes off of you," he leaned forward to kiss you, holding your face firmly in his hands as your tongues tangled together; you were squirming in your seat at the thought of him using his mouth on you, buzzing internally at the fact that he wanted to taste you so badly. No one had ever wanted you like Aaron did; he'd went out of his way to show you from the very first day. Aaron was the type to shower you with compliments, to make you feel good about yourself in every aspect as if he'd spoken it into existence. You believed every word that came out of his mouth, trusted him beyond a shadow of a doubt, which was why you'd taken the chance on him in the first place. Unlike with other men, you didn't hesitate to give Aaron your phone number, and you actively kept in contact with him even before you were dating; he'd call you in the morning and before bed, just to let you know he was thinking about you. Becoming his girlfriend had been the easiest decision you'd ever made, and you were proud to be his.

"It's all for you," you told him, watching his cheeks redden as he grew bashful—it was always a sight to see; he often didn't realize how incredible he truly was, and you were quick to remind him. You loved getting dressed up for him, making a spectacle out of belonging to him. You knew he appreciated the effort, though you were glad to do it for him. He deserved someone who would go to any length for him, and you planned to be that person.

Aaron wanted you to be comfortable first. When he joined you on the bed, his hands came to your thighs, his fingers massaging your bare skin just below your dress. He began kissing you, first your shoulder, working his way to your neck; his nose brushed along your jaw as he came to your mouth, kissing you slowly, delicately. It was sweet, your strong, stern man taking things at a new speed, you knew it was taking all of his restraint not to undress you.

You found your way into his lap, arms snaked around his neck as the two of you made out like mad, his hands on your waist. He kissed you for a while longer before he pulled away, toying with the straps of your dress.

"Can I see you, pretty girl?"

You gave him a nod and decided you'd stand up and do the honors, letting him unzip your dress so it could fall to the floor. Aaron saw what you were wearing and found himself struggling to think straight. He wondered if you'd worn white just for him, something about the lacy set made it even better for him, because he knew you'd never worn anything like that for anyone else before. He didn't try to hide the effect you had on him, his cock throbbing wildly in his slacks as he looked at you.

"You're divine, baby. So fucking pretty," he groaned as you laid next to him on the bed, propped up on your side so you could see him.

"You like it? I bought it just for you," you said, earning a nod in response as he came forward to pepper your chest with warm, open mouthed kisses. It covered you in goosebumps, the sensation of his lips on your flushed skin.

"I love it, I think you look perfect, sweetheart." Aaron's mind was reeling now that he was touching you, his hands a bit shaky but overall, he felt nothing but love. He tentatively reached behind you to feel for the clasp to your bra, and after looking to you to make sure it was okay, he was undoing it and letting your bra join your dress in the floor. Aaron's mouth immediately latched on to one of your nipples, his free hand rolling the other between his fingers. You moaned, pushing your chest forward for him. He sucker your nipples until they were puffy and stiff, stopping long enough to pull back at look at you.

"Lay down for me," he instructed, putting a pile of pillows behind your head. You watched with wide eyes as he unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it aside before tugging his T-shirt over his head. Your hand made its way to his chest, feeling the sexy, scarred flesh as he turned towards you, his fingertips trailing up your thigh. He was nearly at your panty line, taking a deep breath as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties.

"Can I take these off?"

You nodded, letting him undress you completely, trying not to be self conscious about being naked around him. Aaron couldn't believe his eyes; he'd never seen a human being so perfect in his life, and he planned to make sure you knew exactly how amazing he thought you were. He couldn't stop staring, his mouth slightly agape as he blinked at you, making sure you wouldn't disappear once he closed his eyes.

"Perfect, every bit of you," he breathed, ducking down to kiss your thighs. Aaron was certain he'd never want another human being again, not as long as you were alive. Every inch of you was spectacular to him, so much so that he was dizzy with lust—he found his gaze lingering on your core, glistening for him, just waiting for his touch. He sucked marks onto your skin, making you wiggle against the bed, letting out a breathless moan as he began to move upward towards your center.

Secretly, Aaron couldn't wait to corrupt you. Teaching you to touch him, and yourself eventually, sparking your curiosity for new things you could try together. He knew you'd get the hang of things easily, but that would come later. For now, he was focused on spreading your legs, getting you to open up for him.

"Relax, baby. I've got you, okay? If you need me to stop for anything, just tell me. I want to make sure there's nothing but pleasure for you," he lowered himself between your legs, the intoxicating smell of your arousal invading his nostrils and temporarily shutting down his senses. He let out a deep breath as he looked to you, laid out on the pillows, watching his every move. He was close enough to see your clit throbbing, your pussy clenching around nothing as he came closer. The heat of his mouth was enough to have you whimpering, your brain going white hot as his tongue dove eagerly into your center.

You hadn't expected it to feel so good. You had no doubt it would be amazing, but you'd vastly underestimated how much. You were a moaning mess, a few swipes of his tongue away from your first orgasm. Aaron knew you were close, and he was watching you carefully. He couldn't wait to see your face as you came, and then he had every intention of doing it again.

Your voice got caught in your throat, your legs shook even under the weight of Aaron's arms on top of them. The euphoria was overpowering, enough to leave you breathing heavily. You looked back at him, a satisfied smirk on his face; he'd stopped long enough to let you work through your orgasm and then he was back at it, lapping eagerly at your drenched pussy. He moaned into you, gripping your thighs possessively as his tongue swirled around inside of you, bringing you over the edge even quicker than the first time. This time, Aaron didn't stop to let you recover, he was sucking furiously at your clit as you rode out your high—you barely had time to bounce back before you were shaking again, a hum of satisfaction leaving Aaron's lips.

"You taste so good, baby. My sweet, innocent girl is making a mess all over my tongue," that was the last you heard from him for nearly half an hour— he stayed between your legs, giving you more than a handful of orgasms, clearly having the time of his life, so you didn't want to stop him. It felt too good, heavenly—he knew exactly what he was doing.

Aaron was so lost in the moment, starstruck every time he was able to make you cum. He was absolutely enthralled by you, obsessed with the way you tasted, wanting to stay between your legs for as long as he could. Your body shook as you came, and Aaron sighed to himself, so happy with the way things had been going so far.

"You're doing so good, sweetheart. I'm going to use my fingers too, is that okay?"

You nodded back at him, propping up on your elbows so you could watch. He was mesmerizing, and you couldn't peel your eyes away from him. His long, thick fingers teased your entrance, coating his digits with your arousal before he slowly slipped a finger inside of you. As soon as you got used to it, you wanted more, thrusting your hips upward as your orgasm rocked your body.

"More, Aaron, please," you panted, his eyebrow raised as he looked up at you.

"You're sure, baby? Tell me if it's too much," he carefully added another finger, staying perfectly still until your body was adjusted; once he realized you were okay, he began to pump in and out of you, his fingers hitting your sweet spot, driving you absolutely wild. Your chest heaved as he sped up slightly, his eyes trained on you to make sure it wasn't too much, that you were alright.

Aaron was still partially in disbelief that he was actually touching you—he'd almost came in his pants twice while going down on you, simply because you'd  it so much. Aaron had planned to spend all night  giving you the love you deserved, as long as you were okay with it. Now that he'd had a taste of you, he couldn't get enough.

"I want you, Aaron," you said finally, tired of waiting; you needed to feel him, experience what it was like to be touched by someone who loved you endlessly. Aaron gave you a nod, sitting up so he could finish undressing. Once he was completely naked, you wondered how he'd possibly fit inside of you—you hadn't expected him to be so big, but given his attitude, you weren't at all surprised.

"I'll go slow, be as gentle as I can. We can stop any time you need to," he reminded you, lining up with you as he took a deep breath. You tried to relax your body as best as you could, mentally preparing yourself to take him—you'd been slightly intimidated for a moment, but you knew he would take care of you, so that eased your worries tremendously. After what seemed like an eternity, he was cautiously pressing into you, easing into you inch by inch. There was a lot of pressure at first, but there was a lot of him to get used to. He stayed completely still, letting you take as much time as you needed; Aaron knew he wouldn't last long, not with the way you were squeezing him so tight.

Aaron let out a breath, looking at your body laid out just for him—he'd never felt so loved, never experienced anything like the sensation he was overcame with now. He saw his life with you, laid out like he was viewing a scrapbook. He saw a ring on your finger, and a house full of brown eyed children with your sweet smile. Aaron knew his future was with you, and you confirmed it every time you whimpered his name. It was melodious to him; he couldn't get enough of it, of you.

"You can keep going," you told him finally, and Aaron bit his lip harshly, nodding as he began to move. A soft smile rested on your face as his hips rolled into you, steady and precise. It wasn't long before he was leaning down, kissing you with every bit of love he had to give. He stayed close, propped up on his elbows as he took his time with you; you'd never seen a more patient, caring man, someone who would go out of their way to be so loving with you—you hoped he was around to stay. You wanted a life with him, to grow with him.

"How do you feel? Can you handle more?" He was hesitant to speed things up without your permission, but you nodded, kissing the corner of his mouth, bringing your hands to the back of his head to keep him near you.

“Feels so good. You can go faster,” you said, hushed and low, making Aaron kiss you hard on the mouth. You were doing so good, he was so happy things were going well; he’d been nervous that something would go wrong, but it had all been in his head. Now that you were here, everything was perfect.

He started to move faster, making him grit his teeth together as he buried himself deeper inside of you. You were experiencing something foreign—it was like love, but stronger. You’d never felt so connected to anyone, like your entire life had been leading up to Aaron and the happiness he could bring to you.

You were getting close, Aaron could tell by the way your breathing had changed; he took that as a signal that he could go a bit faster, and he was rewarded by you gripping the sheets, letting your eyes flutter shut as the buzz of pleasure took you over. Aaron was in love with the faces you made, how you looked so good when you came—he could hardly control his own orgasm, so he wasn’t surprised at all when he poured into you, groaning your name as his mouth connected with yours once more. His hand brushed your hair out of your face, his forehead pressed against yours as he eased out of you, his arms holding the majority of his weight as he positioned his body to cradle yours. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him.

“Tell me what you’re feeling. Are you okay?” You could hear the concern in his voice, but it nearly melted away when you leaned up to kiss him, your hands on his face. You couldn’t wipe the smile from your lips, your body buzzing with excitement, your adrenaline pumping.

“I feel great, Aaron. That was perfect—you’re perfect,” he blushed at your words, nuzzling closer to you than before; he was so warm, it was making your eyes heavy before you realized it.

“You’re the perfect one, sweetheart. This has been the best night of my life, I couldn’t ask for anything better,” he sighed, his eyes closing as he settled in on the pillow, kissing your forehead lightly as his breathing began to steady.

“I love you, Aaron. Thank you.”

He let out a breathless little laugh, snuggling closer to you than before, his body going still within seconds.

“I love you. You don’t ever have to thank me; I’m yours whenever you want.”

You were completely content. Aaron had made the night a memorable one, but you knew this was just the beginning. There was so much more in store for the two of you—and you couldn’t wait. 

Master tags: @wheelsupkels @periodtcevans @hausofwhores @criminallyobsessedcm @tojithesourcerkiller @fireworksinthesky

the art of flirtation

haven’t written in over a year so this may be rusty and not great, I do apologise but blame @ssamorganhotchner​ for giving me this idea <3 not proof-read aaron hotchner x female reader wc: 1.9K slightly pining, flirting

You’d always been blissfully inappropriate and you knew it. The team were used to Garcia & Morgan at this point, having heard their flirtatious jokes for years, but they didn’t expect the newest BAU recruit to have such a dirty, sharp tongue...and they certainly didn’t expect it to aim for Aaron Hotchner. The first time you did it, you’d only been part of the BAU for 10 hours. Flirting came extremely natural to you, although your game wasn’t the best, and you couldn’t help it - part of the fun was the ability to make someone flustered. You enjoyed rendering someone speechless but sometimes struggled to pick an appropriate time and place to do it. Scrap that, virtually every time you opened your mouth was an inappropriate time. You hadn’t even been on a case with the team yet - you’d barely remembered where your new desk was in the bullpen. Hotch had called you into his office to discuss some consults that he would like you to assist Dr Reid with, a very professional conversation, when the joke just slipped out. A bad joke, not your best work, but a joke nonetheless. “So with this case, Reid has mentioned that the UnSub is a nymphomaniac. Why do you think that is?” Hotch asked, raising his eyebrow slightly. “He dated me,” Hotch glared at you and you coughed, rubbing the side of your cheek in hopes that your embarrassment would subdue. “Let’s move on,” He muttered and you nodded, but you swore you saw a small twinkle in his eye...or at least, you hoped so. The second time you did it, the rest of the team heard you. You were the first one to leave the bullpen that evening - the rest of the team had more paperwork to do than you as you were still fresh to the unit. You grabbed your bag and jacket, heading to Hotch’s open office door. “I’m going home,” You waved. “Good night, L/N,” Hotch called as you turned away. “It would be if you were coming home with me, baby,” You called, sauntering down the steps out of the bullpen, smirking to yourself. Morgan raised his eyebrows at Prentiss, who giggled behind her manila file. She had warmed up to you fairly quickly and you’d flirted with her a couple of times. She took your humour in good nature and understood it, returning the quips well. But the fact that you’d just said, that in a room full of profilers, to Hotch was the icing on the cake as to how much she was starting to like you. Hotch never mentioned it, but he enjoyed it. There was something about the way you were so quick, so bubbly yet mischievous. Although your lack of filter sometimes put the fear of God in him when you were in another police force’s precinct, he liked the way you spoke. He liked that you were unpredictable but he never showed it - well, he thought he didn’t, but you’d caught onto the blush on his cheeks from the first time you did it. He feigned annoyance whenever you quipped but it was something so blissfully cheerful and it brightened up his days...sometimes, a little too much. Sometimes, although he could scarcely admit it to himself, he wished that you were serious in your flirting efforts. ------- It was a fairly straightforward case in Vegas - well, it would have been if it weren’t for the fact that this UnSub enjoyed writing in code. Morgan, Rossi and Prentiss were at the latest crime scene and JJ was talking to a reporter, which left Hotch, you and Reid in the small sheriff’s office. Reid was scribbling down seemingly random letters and numbers on a whiteboard. You were lying back in an uncomfortable chair, staring at the letters from the UnSub until your eyes started to blur, and Hotch intermittently disappeared from the room with his phone glued to his ear, talking in a low, hushed tone. You’d noticed that he’d been in a bad mood all day, he seemed snappier and more straight-faced than usual - the glint in his eyes was barely noticeable. You’d flirted with him a few times this morning but he hadn’t really reacted. You hated to admit to yourself that it hurt - admitting that you were hurt by his lack of reaction would mean admitting to yourself that maybe there was something in the flirting for you...something more than just humour...and you couldn’t allow yourself to think like that. He was your boss and you got away with more than anyone else would: you couldn’t cross that line. “Reid, how are you doing so far?” Hotch asked as he walked back into the room, his face pinched. “I’m just trying to figure out how big the alphabet in his code is,” “L/N?” Hotch looked over to you, motioning to the letter in your hand. “What? Don’t look at me,” You shrugged, placing the letter onto the desk. “You’ve been reading the UnSub’s letters for an hour,” “Well I only know of two letters in the alphabet,” You mumbled, resting your elbows on the desk and rubbing your temples with the pads of your thumbs. “U and I,” You pointed to Hotch, half squinting from your blurry eyes, with a small smirk on your face. He sighed, placing his hands on his hips. His attitude instantly made you sit up straighter, searching his face for any kind of expression other than mad...but that’s all you could see. He was really mad, shooting daggers at you. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do you wanna spank me?” You tried to lighten him up, but it only made him worse. His brow furrowed even deeper, his eyes darkening. “For once in your life, can you give it a rest? Focus, L/N,” “Hotch, I’m focused. I’ve read these letters so many times that I could recite them to you, but I’m stumped,” “Then take a walk. Get some air and come back when you’re ready to do your job,” The tone of his voice made Reid stop scribbling and turn to look at you both. “You’re sending me out?” You asked, your voice clipped and irritated. “Yes,” “God, what is up with you today?” You grumbled, mainly to yourself, as you stood up from your chair and left the sheriff’s office in a moody cloud. You did take a walk - straight back to your hotel room for a hot shower. You needed to calm down, to figure out your next move. Unless he apologised, which didn’t seem likely, you had made a decision: no more jokes. Although you were mad at him, he was right - it wasn’t professional to be talking like that to the chief of the BAU, especially during such a mess of a case, and you still couldn’t decipher when the acceptable times to flirt were...so you stopped. The case was wrapped up that night, Reid’s brilliant mind pulling you all through to a good ending, and you were boarded the jet back to Virginia by 9pm. The craft was quiet; everyone was either focused on their thoughts, sleeping or paperwork. You stared out of the window for a while, compartmentalising the case into a tidy little brain box and letting your emotions go until you felt your eyelids become heavy. “Do you want me to turn my light off?” You heard Hotch’s voice and blinked a couple of times as you looked to the right of you, to his seat where his laptop emitted enough light for him to carry on working. “Please,” You mumbled, settling back into a comfortable position and turning your head back towards the window. “Good night, L/N,” He said softly as he turned his overhead light off. “Night,” You muttered, pushing your usual ‘get here and it will be’ joke down into a cage of things you had to keep to yourself. Hotch noticed. He didn’t type for a few moments, waiting to hear it... but it never came. In a quiet panic, he stared at you, trying to rationalise to himself that you were just exhausted - you just didn’t have the energy to joke around, you were too sleepy - but he knew. He knew why you didn’t say it and the same guilt that he’d felt seconds after he forced you to take a walk washed over him again.  He stared at you for a good five minutes, looking at every curve and line of the profile of your face, the way your legs were curled up against the table, the way your eyelashes twitched every now and then. He watched you until he couldn’t do it anymore, feeling a heavy sadness plunge his heart downwards. How could he miss something that wasn’t even real? ----- You did it again...but this time, it really was an accident. You stayed true to your word for a few months, obtaining the most professional persona whenever you had to interact with him. The team noticed straight away and Emily had grilled you about it, but you didn’t want to talk. At some point, Reid had spilled the beans on what happened and the team stopped mentioning it. It was just left in the past - something that used to happen, but didn’t anymore and that was that. Until Donut Day. Someone had brought a huge tray of donuts into the bullpen. You couldn’t remember who it was, but it was a help-yourself kind of deal. The box stood proudly open on the counter in the kitchenette and Hotch couldn’t resist grabbing one as he waited for you to be done with the coffee jug. “So your performance review is coming up,” He said, swallowing the first bite. He’d opted for a creme-filled donut, but he didn’t notice the small pool of creme threatening to drip over his suit from where he’d bit into it. Without thinking, you kept your eye-contact locked with him as you leaned down slightly and swirled the overspill onto your tongue. He groaned. Aaron Hotchner groaned. It was soft, almost inaudible, but you’d heard it. Hotch couldn’t take his eyes away from you. The creme looked too good on your tongue and the sexual tension was killing him, but he welcomed it. Your interactions had felt cold and disconnected ever since his outburst in Vegas, but watching you stare at him through your eyelashes with the creme on your tongue was too fucking good not to react to. You froze, slowly retreating your tongue back into your mouth, the creme dissolving away. You saw it. You saw his eyes light up, his cheeks flush. That was all the green light that you needed, you couldn’t stop the words from coming out this time. “Does that count towards it?” You smirked. Hotch blinked. “Huh?” You couldn’t stop now...not after you’d heard him groan, seen his face light up like that. You reached out your finger and scraped some of the creme out of the donut, then quickly put the finger into your mouth, sucking and lingering. He watched your every move intently, the blush in his cheeks subsiding but his pupils blowing out. With a pop, you slid your finger out of your mouth. “How is my performance?” You smiled. His lips tilted into a small smirk. He couldn’t feign annoyance this time. “I’d like to see more to judge,”

I’m Lost Without You

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: when a case goes wrong, Aaron’s the only one who can get you out of your head

Word Count: 1.5k words

Warnings: swearing, angst, blood, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, Aaron being sweet

A/N: aaaaaand i’m back again with some angst. This idea literally wouldn’t leave me alone so here we are. Somewhat inspired by lady macbeth’s “out damned spot” soliloquy but like only in the hand washing and not the actual stabbing of a guy bit

Masterlist

---

There’s blood under your fingernails and it won’t go away.

The fluorescent lighting of the police station bathroom illuminates the red under your nails, taunting you with the results of your failure.

You scrub harder, bordering on frantic as pink water swirls its way down the drain.

Your fault.

---

It was too easy.

Women in their twenties going missing from a college campus after attending events put on by the history faculty.

Narrowing down the lists of professors, students, and staff led to three possible unsubs, one of which had a previous record for assault and battery six years prior.

It was too easy.

Everything was seamless. Reid’s geographic profile, Garcia’s information on the unsub’s records, Emily and JJ’s deductions based on victim type all led you to believe that you had the right person and prevented her from finding the next victim.

The team cornered the unsub in her office during a meeting with her TA, who was part of the whole takedown operation—your idea.

But.

Your fault your fault your fault.

As soon as Morgan breached the doorway the professor, Dr. Jennifer Coleman, pulled a handgun from her desk and shot her TA. Point blank. In the chest.

The rest of the takedown is a blur.

Immediately, you pushed past Morgan and began assessing Celia – the TA, her name is Celia—while the rest of the team swarms in around you to subdue Dr. Coleman.

Erratic heartbeat, stuttering breaths, wide eyes. Wide green eyes.

Your hands go to her chest, pressing down on the wound, staunching the blood as much as you can with your bare hands.

Not enough not enough not enough.

It’s not enough.

Celia Townsend is declared dead on the arrival of the EMTs, weeks from graduating with her masters in anthropology.

She was twenty-seven.

Your fault your fault your fault.

You watch as the body bag is zipped up.  

There’s blood under your fingernails.

---

The door creaks open behind you, and your eyes flash up to the mirror to see who’s joined you in your futile attempt to rid your hands of the blood.

“Hey.”

It’s Emily.

You meet her eyes in the mirror before turning your attention back to your hands.

“Hey,” you say softly.

“You’ve been in here a while,” she starts, cautious. “Are you okay?”

“I’m—” your voice catches.

You scrub harder.

Your fault your fault your fault.

“Hey,” she says again, moving to catch your elbow. “Hey, careful, careful. Your hands…” She trails off as you take a moment to look over at her.

“There’s…” you pause. “The blood. Under my nails. I can’t get it to go away.”

Gently, Emily takes one of your hands in hers and holds it up and you can see it. See the stains under your nails, the signs of your futile attempt to save the life of Celia. The girl you sent to her death.

You hold your breath as Emily tilts your hand under the light, the blood a dull red where you haven’t scrubbed hard enough.

“I have just the thing,” she states, squeezing your hand before ducking back out the door.

You turn back to the sink and immerse your hands once again as the door swings shut.

The blood is still fucking there.

---

It’s Aaron who comes through the door after an indeterminate amount of time has passed.

You glance at him in the mirror before turning your attention back to your hands.

Your fault your fault your fault.

He moves until he’s next to you, silent. Watching.

“Sweetheart—” he begins softly. “Can you take a step back for me?”

You exhale sharply. “Not until it’s gone.”

“Until what’s gone?”

“The blood, Aaron. Celia’s blood. It won’t come out from under my nails,” your voice shakes as you pause and watch the water swirl down the drain under your hands.

“Sweetheart,” he tries again. “There’s no more blood.”

What?

“No, it’s—right there, it’s there, Aaron, see?” you frantically point at your hands, the red under your nails, the red that’s haunted you since watching the ambulance pull away. “It’s right there!”

Why can’t he see it?

Aaron’s hands engulf yours and he pulls them to his chest, turning your body into his as he steps closer until your head is tucked under his chin.

The water shuts off, but you can still feel it running over your hands, through your fingers. Warm. Incredibly warm and real and red—

“Take a breath, Sweetheart. The blood is gone, it’s gone,” he says, holding both your hands in one of his you he can tilt your chin up until your eyes meet.

“But—”

“Shhhh it’s gone. It’s all gone, Sweetheart.”

Aaron studies your face for a moment before something in his own expression fractures and he wraps both arms around you, tucking his face against the top of your head as the gently rocks the both of you.

You let your eyes close and you lean into his body, grasping weakly at his jacket.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and the two of you don’t let go of each other.

Then the tears start.

Between one moment and the next your breath catches and tears start to seep from under your closed eyes. Face buried in Aaron’s chest, you give in and let yourself cry.

You cry for Celia, for the life she could have lived. For your own guilt and the weight that’s been steadily crushing your lungs since your hands made contact with Celia’s blood.

You cry for yourself. For the knowledge that you can’t save everyone, no matter how hard you try or how good your plan is.

You can’t.

Not your fault.

You become vaguely aware that Aaron’s muttering reassurances into your hair, and you listen closer to hear a litany of “You tried, Sweetheart, it’s okay. You got the blood, you got it. Take a breath, darling, it’s okay. I love you, and it’s okay.”

It’s easy to lean further into his embrace, to insistently push your head under his chin and exhale slowly as you let the tears finish tracking down your cheeks.

“Please don’t leave me,” you whisper, “I know you won’t, not now, but. I just. I don’t want to be alone,” you take a shaky breath. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never,” you feel him breathe against the top of your head. Aaron pulls back to press a long kiss to your forehead. “Never, Sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Love,” gratitude evident in the way your body loses its tension.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Aaron asks hesitantly, hands tightening around your body.

“Not now,” you respond immediately. “I can’t—it’s just—not now. Later, I think. Later.”

“That’s fine, Sweetheart. Later is fine. Or never, but I’m always here if you want to talk.”

He pulls you closer for a moment before pulling back to tip your head up, placing a kiss on your cheek before turning your face to repeat the action on the other side.

You open your eyes, prying apart eyelids that feel too heavy, and look directly into the warm gaze that awaits yours.

“…I want to go home,” you confess. “I can’t be here any longer, Aaron.”

“So we go home, Sweetheart. I’ll tell the team to rally and we’ll have the jet ready in two hours. They should be wrapping up the interrogation shortly,” he responds with a soft smile.

The relief that spreads through your body is a welcome reprieve from the frantic terror that had taken over your mind for however long it’s been.

A thought strikes you “My hands—the blood,” you start.

“—Isn’t there anymore, Sweetheart. Take a look,” Aaron consoles you, pulling both of your hands into your field of vision. “The blood is gone.”

Slowly, you let your vision drift to your hands, expecting to see the reddish stain that you haven’t been able to escape and yet—

It’s gone.

The red is gone.

You pull away from Aaron completely, holding your hands up to the light, twisting them back and forth to catch every possible angle and it’s gone. The blood under your nails is finally gone.

Slumping forward, you close your eyes as your face falls into the crook of Aaron’s neck, shuddering through your next few breaths.

“It’s gone,” you mumble.

“It is, Sweetheart,” he answers. “Let’s go home.”

“Home,” you agree. “Let’s go home, Love.”

Pressing another kiss to your forehead, Aaron takes a moment to swipe a damp paper towel across your face and take away the dried tear tracks, tenderly turning your head back and forth to make sure he got all the remnants of your breakdown.

You lean forward, slowly, letting Aaron meet you halfway in a kiss that soothes your nerves in its familiarity. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull back enough to let your lips rest lightly on Aaron’s, enough to brush his as you smile for the first time in what seems like an eternity.

“Thank you, Love,” you say softly. “I love you.”

“I love you more, Sweetheart,” he responds, just as gentle.

And you know that Aaron, always Aaron, will be there on the good days and the bad no matter what.

--- Taglist: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @averyhotchner @prentisswrites @mylovelysnowflake @hqtchner @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @emlynblack @clarawatson @andromedasstarship @madamsnape921 @mac99martin @midsummernightdream @itsmytimetoodream @homoose @whosscruffylooking @agentaaronhotass @thenewnormalforensicator  @myloveofcmreid @ssahotchie @romanogersendgame

Prompt from @caseket

CW - Smut, slapping, spanking, slight degradation, anal (m receiving), oral (f receiving)

If I missed any, let me know. Not proofread bc I suck! Also, I can't link the prompt, but it's right under this.

WC - 1.4k

*I didn’t specify which season this was in, but Morgan is there. Also, Jack doesn’t exist because I said so. Also, I love using dotted lines instead of solid ones for cuts, my b!*

-----------------------------------------------------

Spencer Reid was a man. Point blank period. So of course he’s touched himself to the thought of women… including SSA Dr. Y/N Hotchner. Unfortunately for him, you were Hotch’s wife, but he didn’t know that at first. You just introduced yourself as Y/N and Spencer was a goner. With your thick thighs, wide hips, and larger than average stomach pudge, Reid was enamored. 

———————

After finally getting the clearance from Strauss you were transferred to your husband’s unit from child crimes. You met the BAU team, Aaron was right, they were all hot. One in particular, boy wonder as Morgan referred to him,  caught your eye. He reminded you of a sub you and Aaron used to occasionally bring into the bedroom. That’s a story for another time. You’re broken out of your daydream when your husband informs everyone you have a case. 

——————— 

After a long day of getting absolutely nowhere closer to finding the missing girl, you were exhausted so the team went to the hotel. Part of the stipulations of you being with the Behavioral Analysis Unit was that you and your husband couldn’t room together. The next obvious choice was to volunteer to room with Reid. As soon as you did, his face turned cherry red and he excused himself to the restroom. You were too tired to take a shower and Reid hadn’t gotten back from the bathroom yet, so you just decided to change by the bed. There was only one, but you were both adults. It was Dallas, Texas in the summer, so you just donned a pair of shorts and a camisole. While you were changing, you heard the room door open, but didn’t see Spencer come in, so you didn’t think anything of it. Even though you didn’t see Spencer come in, he was there. And he saw your perfect (you’d argue him and your husband on this fact) tits just sitting there. Although the image went away physically after you put your shirt on, it was ingrained in Reid’s memory and at the forefront of his mind. You laid down ready to rest and saw Reid come in. He seemed a little uncomfortable with the fact there was only one bed, but said nothing. He practically ran to the bathroom and put on pajamas. You naturally migrated towards him when he laid down, and you knew your husband wouldn’t have a problem with it, especially since you already informed him of your attraction to the young doctor. And Reid, you knew he wouldn’t protest cuddling you based on the way he was looking at you all day. While you were cuddling, you felt Reid’s boner on your ass, but decided against saying anything because he was already breathing like his entire body was going to explode. 

————-

You had no other encounters like that until the last night in Dallas. You weren’t a light sleeper, by any means, but with the condition you found the missing girl in, you weren’t in the mood to sleep. When you finally began drifting off to sleep, you heard some weird noises coming from the other side of the bed. It sounded like muffled whimpers and groans… if you weren’t awake before, you were now. Turning over to see what the commotion was, you see Spencer with his hand around his dick, and his teeth biting his lower lip so hard he’s about to draw blood. For a moment, you were speechless, not because Reid was committing debauchery in your shared bed, but because his dick was huge. For a man of that size, to have a dick bigger than your husbands was an accomplishment. There was a wet spot growing in your shorts just thinking about it, and all the things he could do with it. Deciding you seemed a little creepy just watching, announcing your presence didn’t seem like a terrible idea. In your exhausted state, you really weren’t the picture of sex, but in the sultriest voice you could muster up, you said, “Need some help with that Doc? I would be more than willing and trust me, Aaron wouldn’t mind, as long as he gets to watch.” 

You thought he was dead considering the amount of time he stopped breathing.

“O-okay.”  Thank god, you would be in for it if you killed one of Aaron’s subordinates on your first case together. You quickly text your husband and inform him of what’s going on and less than thirty seconds later there’s a knock at your hotel door. You let your husband in and he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, one you so desperately needed. 

“Reid.” Shit. You thought Aaron would be cool with this, but the way he said that makes it seem like everyone’s in trouble.  “Do you want to fuck her tits?” 

“Huh? What do you mean sir?” Reid turned red and couldn’t get out a full sentence without stammering. 

“As high as your IQ is, you think you’d comprehend what I’m saying. Reid. Do. You. Want. To. Fuck. My. Wife’s. Tits? They’re nice and she has them pierced, but ultimately it’s up to you.” This time it was your turn to be all blushy and nervous. 

“S-s-sure Hotch.” Uh-oh.  Smack. You knew it was coming, but couldn’t help feeling bad for him.

“In here, you will refer to me as sir and her as miss or ma’am.” 

With Aaron’s commanding tone, you had to reel everything back in so it didn’t become too much for Spencer. “Aaron, ease up on him, he’s probably new to this and just because we’re used to it, doesn’t mean he is. I’m sorry Spence, he can be mean, but he makes up for it with his generosity.” With that statement you grabbed Reid’s chin and forced him to make eye contact with you. After asking for consent, you kissed him, and easily dominated the kiss. You pulled away and there was a trail of saliva between you two. 

Aaron gripped your chin and pulled you into a kiss.

 “Jealous huh?” You loved messing with your husband any chance you got.

In a low voice he said, “Not really, that was hot though.” followed by “Reid. Do you know how to pleasure a woman or do you need me to teach you?”

“I-I’ve read about it, so I’d like to try if that’s okay with you.” Reid looked so eager and innocent; the thought of ruining him turned you on even more than you already were. You removed your clothes and laid on the bed, placing a pillow under your hips. 

“That’s more than okay with me baby, let’s see if that mouth is good for something other than spouting facts.” At first, you had to guide him because him seemed nervous, but once he got a small push (literally), he was a natural. When the first taste of your juices made contact with his tongue, he whimpered. That alone could’ve sent you over the edge. Looking around for your husband, you find him lubing up his finger to prepare Reid’s might-as-well-be virgin ass. It was a glorious sight, but it was distracting him from your pleasure; with a slight slap to the face, that issue was fixed. As he continued his ministrations, he added his fingers into the mix. That textbook must have did him good because he knew exactly what spot he was looking for. Right as you were about to cum, Aaron penetrated Reid’s tight hole. He moaned into you and that sent you over the edge. Both men followed shortly after. After Aaron got everyone cleaned up, Reid spent the night in your room to cuddle. 

—------------------------------

“Pretty boy!” Derek shouted across the hotel lobby.

Confused Reid replies, “What Morgan??”

“I heard you and boss lady and boss man getting. it. on. last night… care to explain?” 

Spencer’s face turned red as a beet in response to the question and just walked away. Morgan instantly doubled over in laughter because no answer was as good as an explanation. 

“Maybe you could join us next time Derek.” you say seductively as you wink at the man. 

————————-

After everything that went down on the case, you and Aaron needed a break, so a vacation was the obvious answer. Reid also happened to be vacationing that week. Let’s just say you made sure both of your boys were well taken care of that week and after.

heyy i heard you wanted hotch request! sooo you know when in season 11 when mr scratch is finally taken down but he’s kidnapped emily and our pookie bear hotch is in witness protection? could you write some really fluffy shit where reader or something was also taken by mr scratch and they reunite when reader is in hospital. i’m taking tooth rotting fluff but a teeny weeny bit of angst because hotch feels like he failed to protect reader? okie ty <3

Thank you for the request, my love. I love fluff and angst 🫶🥰🥰

Angst is on a higher level here, but the end is fluffy😳😳

You weren't a federal agent.

You never wanted to be. You knew what it was like to be in love with one. Early mornings, late nights, some days and nights without knowing where they are.

That's how you found yourself now, except you always knew that Aaron was going to do his best to make it back to you and Jack. But this constant fear of not knowing, you hated it. It's like Aaron and Jack were a team of unsubs, you trying to track them down with very little, knowing that they were in witness protection and you couldn't get to them.

Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, now you were going weeks into months. It'd been nearly 2 and a half months since you last saw your boys. The smell of both of them beginning to fade.

Why didn't you go into witness protection? Well, Mr. Scratch was after Aaron ad Jack, he stalked Jack at his soccer game. Pictures addressed to Aaron arriving at the BAU a day later.

When that happened, he knew what he had to do. He lost Haley, he wasn't going to lose his son either. To protect you, he had to leave. He didn’t want to lose someone he loved yet again.

You wanted your boys. You were mad Aaron didn't let you go into witness protection with him but her refused to let you leave your career, your family, your friends. You didn't sign up for that.

He couldn't take you away from your family when you were close with them. He didn't know how long he was going to be in witness protection for, you could have been away from your family for almost 3 months at this point, but it could be years or the rest of your life. Aaron didn't want to do that to you.

Saying goodbye to Jack was hard, what was even harder was him not wanting to let go of you, practically begging Aaron to stay. It broke your heart. You remember sobbing two and a half months ago. Once Aaron pried Jack out of your arms, you kissed Aaron. Aaron kissed back with so much guilt, sorrow, whatever emotion that everyone was feeling. But, that kiss was your reminder that he was doing this to keep the ones he loves safe. He was doing it because he loved Jack. He did it because he loved you. At least, that's what you were telling yourself.

When you were out and about shopping, you saw a dad and a little boy shopping, you swore it was Aaron and Jack but when you ended up almost face to face to them as you were passing by, it wasn't them. But to see the boys happy, it made you think that somewhere, Jack and Aaron are happy together.

When you were bringing groceries in your house, you were in the midst of cleaning out your trunk when you felt a sharp pain on the back of your head. Before you can scream anything, you blacked out.

When you finally came to your senses, you looked around. You were in a house, tied up. Where the hell were you? All you knew was one thing...

You were in pain. So. Much. Pain. The crimson red shining brightly through one of your favorite shirts. It won't be your favorite anymore.

Then you were face to face with a man. Mr. Scratch. Aaron showed you his face so you could be aware of what he looked like and report it to the team if Scratch came after you. But, you didn't see him, until now.

"You're Mr. Scratch."

"I Am. And I'm your worst nightmare. Jack, that little boy, he's your son, right?"

"You better not touch him or Aaron."

He looked at the engagement ring on your finger and he said, "Oh sweetie. You're the future Mrs. Hotchner? Umm. I don't think so. Let me tell you, Aaron and Jack are dead. Currently sitting in a pool of blood for Agent Hotchner's team to find. It'll be amusing to see them squirm and what I've done for them."

"You didn't kill him!"

Scratch just stood up, laughing as he walked out.

You didn't know what to do. You felt helpless. You were bleeding out, you didn't know where you were, and you were just face to face with a psychopath. This was the guy who tortured, Aaron? This was the guy who stalked, Jackers? This is the psychopath who killed your fiancé and stepson?

Groaning in pain, you couldn't help but begin to fall in and out of consciousness. You didn't want to give up. You had to fight because if there was some home that they saved Aaron and Jack, you needed to see them. You couldn't die. Aaron would never forgive himself.

It wasn't until you finally woke back up after falling out of consciousness and someone was untying your hands.

"Y/n, Y/n! We're here. Are you in pain! We need a medic!"

Were you dreaming? Was Rossi here?

"Dave?"

Dave came in full view of you, placing his hands on your cheeks, trying to get you to take deep breaths and calm down.

"Scratch told me he killed Aaron and Jack. Please don't tell me they're dead. Dave, please."

"They're alive sweetheart. They're alive. Scratch is dead. He's gone."

"Don't leave me, please."

A few hours after being taken to the hospital for tests and being seen by the psychologists, Dave walked into the room.

"I just. I just want Aaron. Please tell me he's coming home, Dave. Please. I want Aaron. I want Jack. I just want them both back."

Dave looked at you and moved out of the way a bit.

"Y/n!" You knew that voice, so yes, you may have shot your head to the other side, wayyyyyy too quick, but when you were met with your sweet little boy, it didn't matter how much pain you were in.

"Jack!"

Aaron walked in with flowers, immediately finding your side. Your eyes met his as you were hugging Jack. His eyes were red and puffy, filled with tears.

As he sat on the chair next to the bedside, he hugged you, giving you a kiss that was apologetic, love, passion, happiness.

As you pulled back for air, he kept his forehead against yours. Murmurs of I'm sorry, I love you, I'm so happy you're safe are exchanged between the both of you.

When you did finally leave the hospital, it was nice to have both of your boys with you. You and Aaron would wed about 1 month later, you would adopt Jack shortly after.

Your boys were your home, you may have moved out of the apartment you three were calling home, but the new house, Aaron retiring from the FBI being a stay at home dad for your family in the years to come. It can't amount to the two and a Half months you had to go alone. And the reunion that had to follow after Scratch did what he did to you. As long as you had Aaron in your life, you could work through anything.

Can I still request a Aaron hotchner smut? where he got jealous of how close Reid and the character were so he acted a little harshly. This caused the character or whomever it is to ask “what is wrong why are you acting like this” and he just snaps saying something along the lines of I want you or you to be mine? Character ends up being railed!

ThNk you for the request!!! Changed it up a bit to keep him in character so I hope that’s okay!

Tags: Hotch x bau reader and Reid x reader (to jealous Hotch) love confessions; no smut but steamy elevator make-out seshhhh 🤭; jealous but also baby and insecure Hotch; canon-typical violence; a little over 1k words; not beta read.

Ps: reminder that English is not my first language so I apologize if some things don’t make sense or sound weird etc etc etc

Hotch was known for being cold and stoic. His always-furrowed brows and lips that often fell into a line were to blame.

You, that worked with him every single day, knew that wasn’t true. He was anything but cold, which made you wonder why he’s been acting like it towards you lately.

You took the chance that everyone took a coffee break and waited for them to leave the room to walk up to Hotch, who was studying the board full of pictures of the victims and an unsub yet to find.

“Is everything okay?” You stood next to him.

His eyes never left the board. “If we don’t find the unsub before midnight he—“

“I meant, you and I,” you cut him off. “Is everything okay?”

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down before he slowly looked at you. “We’re in the middle of a case, there’s no you and I while we’re on a case.” He raised his brows as he spoke. “Or after.”

What was that about?

A knot grew tight in your throat. “Or after? Did I do something to upset you?” You folded your arms over your chest.

“Yes.” He kept his voice low. “You’re unfocused.”

“Hotch—”

This was so unlike him it made your insides twist.

“Coffee’s here,” Emily walked in the room again with Spencer right behind him.

“And donuts,” Reid smiled at you. “Got your favorite.”

You gave one last glance at Hotch and approached the pretty boy with the sweets.

Sometimes you wished you didn’t see Spencer as a brother. He was cute, funny without even trying and so incredibly smart. But he was so not your type.

Hotch was your type. He was also cute, funny without even trying, and incredibly smart—in his own way, which made him your type. But he was also your boss, so maybe he was right. There was no you and him, and there never will be.

The entire day went by slowly until a lead appeared and from there, everything picked up too damn fast that you even forgot who Hotch was for a moment.

Literally.

In one moment you were tracking down the unsub and the next you were lying on the floor with blood running down your face.

“Son of a bitch!” You tried to get up but a big hand kept you in place pinning you back to the floor by your shoulder.

“Don’t move,” someone said.

“Get off me! the unsub– he—”

“Morgan’s after him. Lay down." The man now used both hands to keep you still. "We need a medic over here!”

“Let me do my job.” You tried to stand up again.

"Hey." He cupped the side of your face, trying to get you to look at him. "It's me."

You blinked a few times even though it wasn't blurry and met some furrowed brows and really pretty brown eyes.

"I—" Your mouth hung open.

"What's my name." He didn't ask. He almost ate you with his tone.

You blinked a few more times until everything was clear. Well, shit. You disobeyed his order and ended up where you were. "Hotch."

A sigh left his soul.

The paramedics took over and carried you in a gurney to the ambulance. They took care of your cut and concussion. You answered all their questions without even thinking as your attention was on Hotch only who was keeping an eye on you from afar.

He was pissed, but he wasn't going to reprimand you right there.

Or on the SUV, or back in the hotel.

He decided it was better to stay the night in Seattle and fly back to Quantico in the morning, so now you were on the longest elevator ride to your room with him next to you.

“Okay, what the hell is your problem.” You finally snap at him now that you were all alone in a small space. You were tired and annoyed about the deep cut on your eyebrow. It’ll definitely leave a scar.

“You are my problem.” He kept his chin up. “You’re reckless, too kind, you don’t see the bad in people. It’s dangerous. It’s not the first time you’ve put yourself in this situation because you thought an unsub might change his mind.”

“This is not about today's case,” you challenged him. “You’ve been… mean for days now. I don’t deserve it.”

“You’re right. You don’t.” He said, taking a few steps to stand in front of you.

He was so tall you were afraid you'd shrink into the floor if he kept staring at you like that.

“Then what the hell is your problem?” You asked again.

“You don’t see it, do you?” he took a subtle step.

He smelled good, too. He always did.

“I’m not following.” You arched a brow.

His hand landed on your cheek and caressed it with the back of his curled fingers. "You forgot who I was."

"For like a second," you laughed. Your voice sounded as shaky as your legs were.

"I don't want you to forget who I am. Ever." His fingers went down to your chin and lifted it so you'd look up at him.

"O—okay. I won't"

"Before I kiss you, I need to know one thing." He leaned down, his lips one breath away from yours.

Kiss you?!

"O—okay?"

"Are you and... Reid—"

"No," you cut him off with a smile that he gladly mirrored. "Now kiss me."

"Good." His smile faded into the slowest and most delicate kiss someone has ever given you.

His lips were gentle and soft and his tongue timidly grazed your top lip as one hand cradled the side of your head while the other cupped your neck.

Your heart was drumming loud in your ears and somewhere below the belt, but god, he was an incredible kisser. You weren't sure if you were floating high in the sky or slowly melting into his body.

The doors dinged open, bringing you back to earth.

"Your room or mine?" he broke the kiss, circling your nose with his.

You sighed deeply and barely managed to say, "Whichever is closest."

The Flogger

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

WC: 399 (not me actually writing something under 800 words???)

Warnings: minors dni, talks of kink, floggers, paddles, shy!aaron, d/s undertones, that’s about it.

Summary: you take your husband on a trip to the store 🙊

Authors Note: just a little drabble i found in my docs today ◡̈ it is not proofread

i think this was posted before but i never linked it so i lost it 🙃🥲

This isn't your first time at an adult store with your husband, but it is the first time he has taken the initiative to explore some of his own interests. He's a private man when it comes to his love life, so not surprisingly, the thought of someone he knows possibly seeing him here with you makes his whole body warm as he slowly walks towards the back of the store.

Aaron's always been curious about kink, but was never able to thoroughly explore it, at least, not to his own satisfaction. He dabbled a little in college when he and Haley took a break from their relationship, but as far as he was concerned, he still didn't know a whole lot about it. So it's not surprising when he turns to you, a confused look on his face as he holds up a piece of leather.

"Uh, what about, what about something like this?"

The material in his hand is black and leather, thin at the handle and wider at the end, with an engraving of brat spelt backwards in big red letters.

A paddle, you think to yourself.

Smirking, you reach and pull it from Aaron's grasp. “Sweetheart, that's a regular paddle; we are looking for a flogger. You know, with leather tails at the end." You lean in closer, and when your hot breath hits Aaron's ear, he shivers. "Besides, sir," you put emphasis on his title, placing the paddle behind him and tracing it down his jeans, "...if you're spanking me, it's only going to be with your hand."

Aaron chokes, covering it up with a cough, and when you look back up at him, his ears are bright pink. The redness has crept up his dark blue tee shirt and onto his neck, the color making the large vein on his throat stand out, and you bite your lip, willing yourself not to get needy in public.

He's cute like this - shy and apprehensive, and just by looking at him, it would hardly be believable to anyone else that you call him daddy in bed; that tying you to the bedposts with his ties and making you beg is his favorite pastime.

Hanging it back up, you tsk and smirk, and when you walk toward the area of the rope and floggers, Aaron's brain finally catches up to him, trailing not too far behind.

Just mgg and tg being besties for the resties <33

Taglist: @spencers1wifey | @mvndfvelds | @mindfullycriminal | @luce-reid |@ferrjulie | @khxna

Join my taglist here!

summary: a continuation of this series— reader and hotch take the next step in their relationship and move in together.

pairing: fem!reader x aaron hotchner

warnings: pda??? planes???

word count: 853

an: happy day 8! choose the moving in prompt for these two bc ive wanted to write more about them but just haven’t figured out how. but boom here it is!

fluffy february masterlist | cm masterlist

Today is the day— the first day of many— to get everything in order. But, today is the day, the one that solidifies what’s been happening between you and Aaron for the last year or so. It’s a day that in your 26 years of knowing Aaron Hotchner that you thought would never come.

Because today is the day you pick him from Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. Today’s the day that you start your life with Aaron and Jack. Jack was staying behind to finish his last week of school, and then he and Jessica would fly out. Aaron had given it all up for you. You tried to convince him not to, making it very clear that you could relocate to Alexandria, that he could stay in his position at the BAU. He had refused, taking his own time to make it clear that he’d started to let go of his life here the moment he told you he loved you. Aaron didn’t plan on making the same mistake again. And as soon as he sat down with Jack and saw the excitement that lit up his eyes, he knew this was the right decision.

You’ve been driving around Seattle since his flight took off, your nerves not allowing you to stop. About 30 minutes before he’s meant to land you park in the cell phone lot, staring off into space until your phone rings.

“Hello?”

You can hear his smile as he talks, “Hey, sweetheart, I should be out in about 5 just waiting for my bags.”

“Okay I’ll pull around.”

By the time you make it there, he’s standing on the curb in a sea of people with two bags. You put on your hazards and park the car quickly before popping the trunk and getting out. He lights up at the sight of you, and you feel your cheeks warm as you return his grin. You’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to your best friend looking at you this way– a way you thought was physically impossible. He closes the gap between you and before even putting his bags in the trunk he scoops you up into his arms and presses his mouth to yours. PDA has never been Aaron’s thing, but this moment means so much more than his words can convey. Your knees go weak as he kisses you breathless and he pulls away, holding you up.

“You take every opportunity to make me dizzy, huh?” You tease softly, bumping your nose against his.

“Who would I be if I didn’t?”

“We’re putting on a show.”

Aaron’s eyes go a little wide as he realizes where he is again, and a soft flush stains his cheeks as he pulls away. Clearing his throat he murmurs, “I can put the bags away, go get in the car. The passenger seat, “He adds firmly with a look that makes it clear there’s no room for argument.

You press a chaste kiss to his mouth and nod before getting into the car. The ride to the apartment complex is relaxed and easy as the two of you talk about his flight and all of the errands you need to run today. Somehow it still doesn’t feel real to you– he’s here and the two of you are almost to your new home but you feel like you’re in a dream. Its a feeling that you haven’t been able to shake since he’d confessed his love for you in his kitchen.

Once the two of you make it there, Aaron insists on taking another look at it before bringing his bags up, like he hadn’t come to make sure it was perfect multiple times. As soon as you unlock the door he’s picking you up as if you’re a bride that needs carrying across the threshold, effectively stealing your breath for the second time today.

“Aaron,” You yelp glaring up at him.

He keeps his face deadpan, “There a problem?”

“We’re not married and you’re getting old,” You say pointedly through a laugh as he carries you over the threshold of your new apartment.

There are boxes here and there as you’d already started to move your things in. The space is cozy, perfectly sized for three. It already feels like home despite how barren it is.

Aaron looks at you in feigned offense though he doesn’t set you down, “We’re getting old.”

“Together,” You whisper, the realization finally setting in.

This moment is actually here– it's everything. Everything that your unattainable hopes and dreams had been made of are this moment. Every moment that you spent supporting him as his best friend, every drop of sadness that had filled your body was now replaced with joy and love. The man you had been resigned to never having was yours– you get to grow old with him and his son. You get to build what’s left of your lives together.

“Together,” He confirms, resting his forehead against yours.

The peace that bloomed from your first kiss spreads through your limbs again– and this time you think it's here to stay.

hotch taglist: @laurensprentiss, @honeybrowne, @hotchs-bitch, @lesbianhotch, @rousethemouse, @greg-montgomery

Day 8–Thigh Riding

Aaron Hotchner x reader

Warnings: reader is frustrated with Aaron being so busy, a bit of conflict that Aaron isn't even aware of, thigh riding, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2k

Aaron had been locked away in his office for the better part of the day. Normally you knew not to disturb him—he was a very busy man and you understood that he had a lot to take care of, but the weekend was quickly racing by and you'd barely seen him the night before, for a few minutes right before bed. This morning, he'd woken up before you so he could get started, and you hadn't seen him since.

You tried to keep busy cleaning the house and straightening things up a bit, but the house was nearly spotless by noon. You made a quick lunch and listened for any signs that he might be finishing up soon and took a shower, deciding you'd go to the grocery store while you waited. You wanted to knock and ask if he wanted anything but you didn't want to be a bother, so you left him alone.

You managed to kill some time at the grocery store; surely he'd be finished by the time you came back. You bought everything you'd need to cook his favorite dish for dinner and make brownies for dessert, because he couldn't resist freshly baked treats, no matter how much work he had to finish. By the time you arrived back at home, the house was still quiet, and his office door was still closed.

Tv got boring after a while; you hated being bored, and the one person who could cure it had forgotten you were even in the house he was so preoccupied. You knew he let the time get away from him; hours turned into an entire day spent working, and that would gradually become the entire weekend spent in his office if you didn't at least try to get his attention. He'd been on a case for the last 8 days, so you'd missed him terribly, but as soon as he came home, he went straight to work. You were well aware of his one track mind; if he was determined to finish, he wouldn't stop until he'd accomplished his goal.

You lounged around until time to cook dinner, and then you set to work. You started the brownies first since they would take the longest, and then started working on dinner, hoping the smell would pull him from his office because you hadn't seen him eat anything since he came home. When you finished, there was still no sign of him so you went knocking, hoping he'd come join you.

"It's open," he called as you lightly rapped at the door, turning the knob and stepping inside. He was hunched over his desk writing furiously, the sound of his pen scribbling against paper echoing throughout the quiet room like a drum.

"I made dinner," you told him when he didn't bother to look up; he only nodded, too focused on what he was doing to pay attention. You took a careful step forward before doing something you'd never usually do—you put the pen down and climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his body as you clung to him.

"Sweetheart, I really need to finish this," he said firmly, picking the pen back up so he could continue working, even with you hugging his body. He didn't try to move you, he let you stay put on his lap, he just worked around you.

"I miss you. Haven't seen you in days," you huffed, your head buried in the crook of his neck, lips pressed gently to his skin. His free hand rubbed your back, but you could hear him still working behind you. You were growing frustrated—you only wanted his attention, and you'd tried everything and still couldn't get it. It was maddening, but you kept trying regardless.

"I know, baby. I miss you too, but this can't wait. I've got to finish it before I go back," he explained, and because he never knew when that would be, he had to finish it as soon as possible. You knew his workload was hefty, but you'd never seen him like this; he was distant and you hated it. You missed feeling close to him, being able to touch him. Even now he felt so far away; he wouldn't even stop to look at you.

"Can I stay?"

He let out a heavy sigh, no doubt growing annoyed with you, but you didn't care. You only wanted to be around him, and he needed to understand that you were feeling detached from him and you were trying to fix it.

"You'll distract me, I don't think it's a good idea. I promise I'll be finished soon," he patted your back before helping you stand up so he could work freely, so you retreated to the kitchen to eat dinner alone. You didn't bother waiting, you knew he'd be busy most of the night. You put away leftovers and retreated to bed to sulk—you couldn't believe he'd kicked you out of his office after being away from you for so long already. Your feelings were hurt and you wanted to forget that the entire thing had happened.

You were nearly asleep when he finally went to the kitchen to eat. You heard him go down the hall and warm up his food but he never came to the bedroom, so you assumed he wasn't finished working. It wasn't until he came to the bedroom that you realized he must be done.

"You awake, baby?"

You sat up and turned on the lamp on the bedside table. He looked exhausted. His eyes were glassy and red, the lines on his face more defined than usual as he started to strip down to his boxers. He climbed into bed and you stayed quiet, not sure of what to say to him. You were still a bit upset that he thought you would keep him from working when you knew it was important that he finished. You didn't want to stop him, you just wanted to be around him while he did it is all.

"Why so quiet, sweetheart? Have I done something wrong?"

He didn't even know.

Aaron had a tendency to be oblivious; he could be kind of harsh without even realizing it, you couldn't hold it against him. You sighed deeply, even more unsure of the words you could say. You didn't want to fight with him, not when you were finally getting to see him after his physical and mental absence.

"No, I'm okay. Just missed you."

His face and posture softened significantly, the lines on his face disappearing as he relaxed some. He opened his arms so you could climb into his lap, so you moved to straddle him, just as you had hours prior, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

"I shouldn't have called you a distraction. That wasn't what I meant—I just really needed to finish but I wanted to see you, and if I let you stay, I wouldn't have gotten anything done," he explained, but instead of replying, you kissed his neck before snaking your arms around him, his chest warm and cozy as you got comfortable.

"S'okay, I understand. I wouldn't have kept you from working though," you assured him, but he chuckled in response, gripping your thighs with his massive hands.

"I was a goner as soon as you sat down in my lap. But I'm finished now, and the rest of my weekend belongs to you, no questions asked. I'm sorry it took me so long to finish," he apologized again, so you pulled back to face him so you could capture his lips with yours.

"Quit apologizing. You don't have to explain anything to me, baby."

He moved your hair out of the way so he could brush his lips against your neck lightly before he started his gentle assault on your skin, kissing and lightly biting you with his teeth, his hands moving to grip your ass, dragging you across his lap so you could feel him, rock hard underneath you. You whimpered, the friction making you clamp your thighs together as he did it again, dragging you across his length, lined up perfectly with your clothed center.

"I'd love to make you cum just like this, riding my lap," he marveled, letting you take over, your hips moving on their own, his own groans enough to make you keep going.

"Aaron, it feels so good, baby," his hand gripped your face so he could see you, his thumb brushing your cheek tenderly before brushing your bottom lip.

"Be a good girl and open your mouth," he cooed, and it took you half a second to comply, letting his thumb swirl around in your mouth before he brought his lips to yours once more, kissing you greedily, his free hand on the small of your back, helping you move. Your panties rubbed you in just the right way to have you close in no time, combined with his member against your bundle of nerves, your knees were already shaking.

"That's it, so good, sweetheart. You can let go, I'm right here. I've got you," he told you sweetly, encouraging you to find your release. You were furiously grinding your hips against him when you finally came, shuddering and whimpering his name.

"That's it, sweet girl. Want to ride me?"

You would never pass up the opportunity considering it came so seldom. He was usually always the one in control of your orgasms; he'd never given you the power, or let you be on top until now. He helped to get you undressed, pulling his boxers down so you could sit down on his cock, letting him fill you up perfectly before you even thought about moving.

"Fuck, Aaron," you hissed, still not used to how good it felt when he first entered you—you'd never get used to the stretch, the way he fit neatly inside of you. You slowly started to move your hips, bouncing up and down on his dick as he held you up, gripping his shoulders tight as he let you do the work.

"So good, sweetheart. Please don't stop," he begged, his eyes barely slivers as you slammed against him. You could get used to the confidence boost that it gave you, being in control, the way he looked as he gave himself away to you; he looked spent, his lips swollen from biting down on them, pink and puffy and begging to be kissed. Your tongue immediately found his, tangling together as you slowed things down a bit, finding a steady pace with your hips. His head slumped forward into your chest, a stifled moan falling from his lips. You were close, trying to wait on him so you could cum together. You knew he wouldn't last long—it had been a while since he'd touched you, and you were fine with that—it always made your ego a little bigger when he finished quick.

You couldn't hold back anymore, your orgasm came unexpectedly, and his came right after, your foreheads pressed together as you both tried to steady your breathing. Aaron kissed you, not a normal kiss, a possessive kiss, one that told you that you were his no matter what, and that he couldn't live without you, even if he tried. That kiss revealed a lot of things, but mostly how terrified he was of losing you because of his job. It wasn't often that his insecurities surfaced but you could feel it in full force now; he was always afraid that one day he'd come home and you'd be gone, tired of waiting on him to return.

"I love you," you told him before he had the chance to say it first. He laughed lightly before bringing you forward in a hug, his body swallowing yours up as he gripped you tight.

"I love you, sweet girl. More than anything."

Master tags: @wheelsupkels @periodtcevans @hausofwhores @criminallyobsessedcm @tojithesourcerkiller @fireworksinthesky @pedrohoe04 @rousethemouse @thegettingbyp2 @mojo366

Aaron hotchners wife visits him while he is doing paper work ❤️

If there's one thing that Aaron Hotchner loves, it's a home-cooked meal. So when he called to say that he'd be working late again, you carried on dancing around your kitchen as you cooked his favourite meal - but instead of plating it on the new dinner set you'd bought last week, you placed it in a foil box. Grinning, you'd leaned over your kitchen island with a marker in hand, decorating the box as perfectly as you could, chuckling to yourself as you imagined his reaction. Aaron's office was dimly lit, apart from the bright lamp on his desk illuminating the seemingly endless strings of information in the file he had been pouring himself over for the last hour. It was silent, apart from the dark scratch of his pen as he checked and signed boxes and the distance sound of a vacuum being ran around the bullpen outside. He tried to stifle a yawn as he flicked over the page, blinking a couple of times whilst his eyes adjusted to the new wall of words. A soft knock dragged his eyes up from his desk, his eyebrows raised as his office door opened. "Office service," You grinned, your voice soft and warm. Aaron's face broke into a small smile as he dropped the pen on his desk, standing up to greet you.

"Honey, what are you doing here?" He asked, planting a small kiss on the side of your cheek. "Office service," You repeated. He looked at you quizzically, a twinkle of amusement in his beautiful eyes. "Sit down!" You ushered him back to his seat, placing the foil box carefully on a paper-free section of his desk. He didn't look at it - instead, he spent a moment just looking at you with your warm smile and kind face, allowing his work demeanour to fall for a little while in replacement of the pure adoration he had for you. You tapped his desk impatiently. He peeled his gaze away from you and peered over, reading the marker logo on the box. Mrs Hotchner's Home Grill He burst out laughing, a hearty laugh that only you and Jack ever really heard, and opened the box. "I love you," He mumbled with a smile, wasting no time in digging into the fresh food, his eyes closing with the first bite. You pulled out your own box and sat down. You both ate dinner quietly, just enjoying each other's presence, making a little small talk now and then. A few times, he'd glance back down at the paperwork and you could see him fighting the urge to pick the pen up and write again. "Aaron, it's okay. You can eat and do your paperwork," "Are you sure? I don't want to ignore you," "Oh, you won't ignore me in an hour," You muttered, half to yourself, but of course he heard it. "What's happening in an hour?" You smirked and leaned back in your chair. You brought one of your legs up onto the desk, your skirt falling back to show the top of your stocking and the suspender clasped to it. "Dessert,"

Currently writing needy, after-a-long-day comfort smut 😍😍😍 Self-indulgent? Always

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