#but also she's so overly cautious that it's driving me fucking crazy
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lord help me i'm about to become the patient every doctor hates and argue with my psychiatrist based on google
#listen the woman is very nice i'm glad she picked up on my polite hinting around my anxiety/possible pmdd and prescribed zoloft#but also she's so overly cautious that it's driving me fucking crazy#she made me get vitamin testing and an ecg. okay sure no harm in that#she wrote me a prescription for high-dose vitamin d supplements. fine it's actually cheaper than otc stuff#but now she's making me go to a fucking cardiologist because i have respiratory sinus arrhythmia??#respiratory sinus arrhythmia is fucking good for you!! it means your heart is healthy and has good parasympathetic output!!#(admittedly my ecg just says 'sinus arrhythmia' and 'normal variant' so theoretically it COULD be a different type of sinus arrhythmia)#(but like. it's fucking not. i don't have heart disease and i've never had a head injury or taken digoxin#and also i can literally feel my heart rate change when i inhale and exhale and i've been aware of it for years)#and also!!! i cannot find a single goddamn paper that even suggests methylphenidate is unsafe in people with sinus arrhythmia!!!#also as dental students we send a lot of consult requests to cardiologists so i KNOW how much cardiologists hate doing unnecessary consults#like they are NOT nice about it they get extremely bitchy and passive-aggressive#anyway. i did make a cardiologist appointment so if she can provide me with an actual good reason for concern i'll keep it#but if not then i'm cancelling that sucker. sorry i'm not wasting my time and money just so a cardiologist can tell me#that i'm allowed to keep taking the medication that i've been taking for 7 goddamn years with no issues#personal post shut up
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Non-petrarchan| Gage/SoSu
Pairing: Porter Gage/Fem!Sole Survivor
Word count:2496
Summary: Continuation of fantasiland. Part of the Nuka-World Blues series. Ao3
Walking without shoes, Porter Gage could be silent without even really trying. scared the shit out of Sole and put a smile on his face plenty of times. He did exactly that until he got right to the edge of her bed, lowering his hand to it to steady himself as he slowly sat down.
Sole’s head snapped to the side upon feeling the mattress dip with the added weight, reflexes still sharp despite all her desperation. The raider on her bed was greeted with her flushed cheeks and wild, dilated eyes. Sole was greeted with a shirtless Porter Gage. The split second that they looked at each other felt like an eternity, listening to each other's breathing, staring.
“Boss. Sole. If this ain’t what you want, stop me.”
The words were rough and unromantic, but coming from Gage in that moment, they felt tender and beautiful. Sole felt his calloused hands cup her face gently before he leaned down and their lips met. Gage wasn’t one to do things slow and gentle, not really, but he wanted to give her time to push him away. Not to mention, Sole was completely unlike anyone he’d ever met before, in so many ways he couldn’t articulate. He wouldn’t treat her like some meaningless fling, as much as his pride as an unfeeling tough-as-fuck raider wanted him to. Before she knew it, his tongue was in her mouth while his hand began gliding down the length of her body, stopping to palm at her breast through the thin fabric of her sleep shirt.
He stopped to throw the blankets from her body, and her legs twitched at the sudden exposure to the cool air of the open patio. Gage moved their rest of himself onto the bed, parting from Sole’s lips, and grabbed at her hips to yank her body closer to his, setting her on his lap. The raider’s assault on her body was ceaseless and overwhelming, his mouth kissing down her neck while his hands slid up her shirt to cup and knead at her breasts.
She could feel the rough pads of his thumbs as he teased and pulled at her nipples, reveling in the feeling of the soft flesh finally beneath his touch, after months of being teased with it. His right hand trailed further down, uncharacteristically feather-light despite how pent-up and wild he was currently feeling, until he reached the elastic of her cotton panties, thumbing at the little silk bow that adorned them with amusement. They were already soaked through from her earlier ministrations, he could already see the cleft of her pussy through the wet fabric, and he wasn’t about to stop with just seeing.
“Y’got any idea how long I’ve wanted to do something like this with you, boss?” He said it in a low sort of growl near her ear, and he could feel a shiver run through her. “A long fuckin’ time. Nice to know you had the same idea.”
Had she not been acting so demure, still in the sort of sleepy shock of being interrupted during a late-night jerk session and embarrassed at what he’d heard and seen, Gage would’ve been a little concerned about pushing his luck. This was, after all, the same woman who he’d seen end countless lives. Then again, those were not the moans of someone who’d only had a fleeting thought about fucking someone else. His fingers dove beneath her waistband, while his other hand kept a massaging grip on her breast. The feel of her flesh yielding to his grasp was enough to force a groan out of him.
“Goddamn— how’s every part of you so fuckin’ soft? Never felt anythin’ like it,” he grit out, already feeling like a wild animal, and with only a tit in grasp and her slit beneath his fingers. “Tell me somethin’ boss, was that the first time you ever thought of me while you touched yourself?” His thumb found itself against her swollen clit, his index and middle fingers gently prodding against her hole, just barely being able to feel the muscles contract against nothing as he talked. She answered him through lips close to quivering
“N-no… I’ve— hah— I’ve done it before…” Gage slid a finger into her easily. He might not have needed to do any of this, given what she’d been doing minutes earlier, but he’d be damned if he would waste an opportunity like this. The intrusion had her whining and squirming her hips against his still-clothed cock in a way that was setting all the right nerves on fire. He added another finger, and as he felt the silk of her against his fingers he could imagine it so well against his dick he shuddered a little, groaning. Damn, had it really been so long since he’d gotten any?
“Don’t worry, Boss. You ain’t alone on that one.” He had no fucking idea why he said that— admitted such a thing while he was, by all means, in the position of power. Wasn’t like him to admit to anything. She was driving him crazy, there was no other explanation. “What were you thinkin’ about, before I came in, huh? Indulge me.”
Gage always liked to talk dirty. He had the kinda voice and the kinda filthy mind that got girls goin’ fast, he knew it, they knew it. But he’d never done shit like this. Finger number three had her gasping, and he knew at this point he was probably being overly cautious. Tight as she was, she was still wet as anything and practically soaking his hand. But some vessel in the deep recesses of his heart twinged painfully at the imagined image of her face in discomfort. So he went the extra mile in coaxing her open, until she was practically about to cum.
“I think about this-- about you… doing things to me,” her voice was breathy and uncertain, and addicting.
“Oh yeah? Tell me about what kinda things you mean, sweetheart.” Her heart pounded as she flushed at the endearment, hoping in the back of her mind that he wouldn’t notice.
But he did.
“‘Bout you pinning me down, doing what you want to me--oh fuck, Gage, please,” she squirmed against him beautifully as he curled his fingers and his thumb pressed harder into her clit repeatedly.
“C’mon, boss, keep goin’.”
“I-I think about how you look at Mason, when he’s close to me-- that it’s jealously, and when we get back home you’ll snap and fuck me as hard as you want, hah, fuck,” Gage’s mind devoured those words as they spilled from her mouth, and loved them all, craved them. But why was he so fuckin’ stuck on when we get home? His thought was interrupted as she shivered sobbed, clutching at his forearms for purchase, and damn if that wasn’t an ego boost. “Gage, I’m gonna cum, please.”
Whether she was asking him to stop or to get it over with, he didn’t know, but he did know what he wanted to do, and that was make her cum on his fingers, then fuck her so hard and so special she’d be ruined for anyone else. So he kept going.
“Oh— shit, Gage, fuck!”
She arched her back against him, pushing her ass harder against his dick, while he insides quivered around his fingers and wet them further. Her face and chest were flushed, her breathing heavy, and Gage could feel her heartbeat through her back when it pressed against his bare chest. He rocked his fingers in and out of her slowly while she came down, before removing them. She whined when it happened. Gage’s cock twitched at the sound.
Sole turned her head, and Gage gripped her chin to bring her the rest of the way to meet him in another searing kiss, open mouthed, and breathless. Not something he did with just anyone, not that any of this was. He took a split second to take in the sight of her swollen lips and heavy lashes.
The raider hooked his arms under her knees, picking her up and moving around before lightly tossing her onto her back and kicking off his pants. When he crawled over her, she opened her eyes just in time to meet his gaze, and for the first time since this midnight liaison, he was nervous. Knowing she had been thinking of him gave him a whole lot of confidence, but thinking of him and looking him in the face were two very different things.
Here she was, a beautiful pre-war relic, every bit as gorgeous as she was capable. She’d spent the last few months making his dreams a reality and worming her way into a rent-free spot in his skull. And what was he? Some battered, scarred, fucked up old raider who helped her out now and again. The possibility of not living up to her fantasies hit him hard and fast.
“Porter.”
Her declaration of his first name brought him back to reality as he stared into her eyes. No one called him that, not for years, but if she’d keep looking at him that way he’d let her call him anything. She could give him a name, and hell, that’s who he’d be. Whatever she wanted.
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”
Beautiful and stupid, a perfect combination. Maybe not stupid. Oblivious? An over-analyzer? Her gaze was gentle and doe-like. He’d just kissed her, with tongue no less, thrown her onto the bed, and she was worried about pressuring him.
He laughed. That low kind of chuckle that made some coil begin to wind itself in her stomach.
“Boss. Sole. If you think I don’t want this as much as you do, maybe more, you’re outta yer damned mind,” he crooned, lowering his hips just slightly, so she could feel the weight of his hard cock against her belly. It made her hips twitch.
“Porter… please?”
Who was he to deny an order from the boss?
She laced her fingers together at the back of his neck while he pressed against her hole. Gage was unable to recall the last time he took this much care with anything besides a gun. She gave out a short cry as the head of his cock popped in, thankfully sounding surprised and not pained. Even if she was touching herself pretty regularly, he guessed it had been a while. Not only because she’d been frozen for 200 years, but also because he was barely in and she was still tight as hell.
Gage nudged his way in until she’d taken him pretty much entirely, stilling for a moment so she could settle, pushing her shirt back up in the meantime.
“Y’got any idea how perfect your tits are, boss? What it’s been like to have ‘em pressed into me every night before you fuck off to bed? Hasn’t exactly been easy on me, but you’ll make it up to me.”
As merciful as he had been up until this point, any semblance of patience had fled as soon as she gave that first teasing clench of her walls and smiled at him. He gathered her legs, threw them over his shoulders, and started pounding. She gasped and took shuddering breaths, arching her back in a way that only made the movement of her breasts more apparent. His grips moved to her hips and his fingers sank deep into her flesh, no doubt in a way that would bruise. He pressed a kiss to her ankle in some form of apology.
Sole’s moans pitched and pierced as Gage seemingly took everything he wanted from her, and she gave it all willingly. Her hands began reaching for his wrists, down by her hips— anything of his to hold. His gaze widened just slightly as he took notice of her intentions, and he did what he’d always done for her.
He acquiesced.
He tilted her hips up as he leaned forward, taking hold of her reaching hands, lacing his fingers with hers as he held them at either side of her head. From there, it took so little to lean down and kiss her that he truly couldn’t help himself, it seemed. The both of them were reaching near breathlessness, lost in it all, in each other.
“You getting close again, boss?”
“Yeah, r-really close.”
“Thought so. Can feel you tightenin’ up on me again, sweetheart. I’ll be damned if it’s not the best thing I’ve ever felt.”
One of his hands let go of hers, diving downward between their bodies to give her some encouragement, all while he kept drilling her without remorse.
“Porter, oh god I— ah, fuck!”
A shudder wracked her body yet again, and Gage felt the tell tale squeezing of her insides as her orgasm pulled through her. As a result of Gage thinking with his dick instead of his brain, he stilled inside her as she milked him, growling hard and swearing as he pumped her with hot ropes of cum.
The raider all but collapsed, braced on his elbows, before quickly pushing himself onto his back next to her to give the both of them space to breath. Her panting was something Gage could easily tune out the rest of the world for, just so he could listen to her, gasping and beautiful in her afterglow. He was just the same, huffing in a way he imagined was far less dignified, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
As her breathing slowed, her eyelids began to flutter. She turned and curled into his side, throwing an arm over his chest. Gage was used to shoving off soon after these kinds of engagement, but he figured… it couldn’t hurt to stick around with the boss. He lived down the hall, anyways, and she was looking really comfortable, and feeling real soft. Hell, he didn’t want to leave. Not when she looked like she did, not when he was feeling like he was about her.
“Gage.” He could hear the sleep begin to deep into her voice.
“Yeah, boss?”
“What was this to you?” She all but whispered it, almost like she didn’t really want him to hear it. He could have easily pretended not to have heard, or to be asleep, and she knew that. Even now, she thought of him. Gave him an out.
“What did you want it to be?” Answering a question with a question. Way to sound like someone who just used her for sex, jerk. God, did he always have to have such a smart mouth?
“I wanted it to mean something. But it doesn’t have to. It doesn’t have to.” They were on the third exchange of this conversation and he could already picture her heart breaking. Fuck that.
“It sure as hell meant something to me, boss. Meant a hell of a lot.”
Understatement of the century.
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Infiltrated: Part 4
A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction
Featuring: Hotch x Female Reader/ George Foyet x Female Reader
Setting: Season 4
A/N: A/N: So I got an unsub fmk-type ask and this came from that. This is going to be darker than any other series I have done. Hope you guys like it! The reader character has a name because she is protecting her identity.
This got away from me, but I hope you like it. Xoxo Stu
Warnings: Blood, violence, moral repugnancy, and general unsub behavior. Also smut.
Series
Your name: submit What is this?
You were late, really damn late. George wasn’t on the platform which he had arranged for you to meet him. You searched the exits and entrances, you doubled back in case he was being overly cautious. He was just, gone. You had never missed a meet up, never lost him in a crowd and most certainly hadn’t kept him waiting. Without precedence, came uncertainty, with the Reaper uncertainty meant repercussions or death.
For the first time in almost a year, you truly didn’t know how he would react. Fear began to solidify on the recesses of your mind. Not only were you worried about the kind of damage he would take out on you, you wondered what would happen if he just disappeared. If he left you hanging and alone with only the FBI to keep you focused. This was not supposed to happen.
Your mind began to spiral, you found your way back to your car. You stared at the dashboard, looking over each dial and meter, wondering exactly what your next move was. It wasn’t the abandonment, it was the swinging guillotine. At any second a single motion could snap the cord, effectively separating you from yourself. The agent from the accompliss, the woman from the murderer, the past from the future, the victim from the temptress.
It was nearly five minutes before he spoke, he was waiting for you, naturally. Silent in the backseat.
“Drive, Y/N.” His voice was even, but your exhale was ragged with relief. You hadn’t meant to cry, but the frustrated tears burned like gasoline, ignited by the realization until you couldn’t see in front of you.
“I’m sorry, god, fuc--ging Hemmings was late and I had to get my, my car. I thought, Christ, I thought you were gone.” You stared at him in the rear-view mirror, he was impassive about the sniveling mess you had become.
“Whats this about Y/N?” He leaned forward, his cologne filling your senses. “Were you scared, hmmm?” He held back, hovering as you pulled yourself together. You built back the walls, slowly with added discomfort, playing on his assumptions and preparing yourself for penance. “Drive, I’m done waiting on your shit.”
This isn’t what he was planning on tonight, he hadn’t expected this. Not from Y/N, his muse was stronger than this. He had bought her toys and tools, hoping the build up would have her writhing beneath the glint of his blade. He wasn’t prepared for the way her tears affected him, disgusted and enthralled him. She had been working and he had been idling away the hours until he could push pious Agent Hotchner over the edge.
Y/N needed to get her head together and George decided he had another mission on his plate. She pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic, listening to her breathing regulate was the only way he could mark time as the mile markers ticked passed them along the Interstate.
“Take the next exit, doll.” George’s voice was gruff from disuse. She quickly changed lanes, finally glancing back at him as she checked her blind spots. He couldn’t help it, his lips creeped up at the sight of her watching him. Then she bit her bottom lip and his thoughts fell to his lower brain. “’Atta girl, you bring the gifts I left you?”
“They’re in a bag in the trunk.” She slowed down, waiting for him. George groaned, looking for any sign of motel along the random frontage road.
“The next hotel you find will suffice, Y/N.”
You hadn’t said more than a few sentences since checking in at the hourly motel next to a truck depot. George was more determined to keep you secure than he was to get a rise out of you tonight. You held your chin up as he tightened the strap on your wrists. He kicked the chair you were tied to abruptly, sending your head rocking.
The gasp caught in your throat as he circled you, never breaking his glare. The ropes burned against your skin, the strips of lace forgotten as your bare body was restrained. Your knees were pinned on the outside of the front legs, your folds exposed and coated in anticipation, the air sending shivers through you, pinching at your bindings.
George had retreated to the suitcase, he found the empty leather sheath he had taunted you with and brought it along. He stood squarely in front of you. The bite of leather stung across your cheek, he whipped the triangular casing across your face. You hissed, bringing your face back up to look at him. His eyes darkened, he hit you across the other cheek, harder.
George chuckled deep in his chest, he trailed the leather down your neck, over his brand between your tits and let it drop on the seat of the chair between your twitching thighs.
“Now we’ll get to see which I want to put away first, my dick or my blade.” You bit your lip at his lingering threat, he moved his face over yours watching you mirror his movements, waiting for him to kiss you or kill you. He could do both or he could do neither, it was his game and you were at his every disposal.
The knowledge of releasing yourself to him was freeing, he had been the center of your life for so long. It wasn’t a secret, unfulfilled need, he was here owning you. He accepted his power over you and that made it less crazy, easing the obsession into something. Not a relationship, but an agreement. George Foyet, the Boston Reaper, had changed your life and as you waited for him to take his next step you knew that by letting him take this piece of you, it granted you your next step.
The familiar warmth pooled around the shallow nick on your shoulder. George was spattering fresh cuts along your arms and what little of your back he could access. The tension sent the wounds to ache as you rolled your muscles against his attacks. Each flinch sent the chair shaking, the loose knife case swaying closer to the edge.
George dragged his nose along your neck, letting your blood smear along his jaw and hands. It had started to dry in places, the air making it itch along with throb in irritation. His cologne had faded with his efforts, now it was just your want and blood lingering in the air. He was struggling to pace himself and you were growing weaker.
“Stop holding back.” You murmured, which came off more of a whine. He did not like that. He grabbed your hair, right at the scalp. Pulling your head back against the back of the chair. Your throat open and exposed, you couldn’t help but swallow as his whisper tickled your ear.
“Oh, the only way we’re both walking out of here tomorrow is if I keep holding back.” His voice was gentle, your stomach tightened at the sincerity.
“Tomorrow?” You asked alarm sinking in.
“You see, I may need a contingency or two. So after I fill that tight pussy, you’re going to give me some blood, Y/N. The kind that I can keep for a rainy day.”
You didn’t know how he was going to use your blood as a diversion like he had his own in Boston, but you nodded, against his hold on your hair.
“Okay, doll, let’s get to work.” George shook your head like a wooden dummy. You let your jaw fall open and gave a glassy eyed stare, pulling a dark appreciative laugh from him.
FBI Headquarters
Your team had finished its surveillance and were working on the final trap for the gun runners the next week. Evidence collection was tedious, but it saved the time on the paperwork later. You were heading out for a real lunch break, away from the same cubicle and twelve faces of your teammates when you stepped onto the elevator.
It had been a week since you had seen Hotch and Strauss on your way to meet George. You fumbled with your blazer, making sure the healing bruises from the restraints were covered. Hotch glanced at you and did a double take. Fucking profilers.
“Agent Turner, how’ve you been?” Hotch’s face seemed to soften.
You did your best to hide your surprise, “Doing alright, just stretching my legs.”
“Going to Marco’s for lunch?” He almost smirked.
“I was thinking Ivy Terrace, why? You free?” You let it hang there, when he looked down you knew you had overstepped.
“Y/N-”
“Aaron?” You challenged, making him look directly at you instead of staring down the elevator doors.
“I never should have let that happen, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” You hit the emergency stop button on the navigational panel. You spun stepping into his bubble once again. “Listen, I’m not going to touch you. But you want me to and I enjoy it. And as I recall, you enjoyed me touching you.”
Hotch sighed, letting his head tilt and giving you the saddest look you had seen from him. “I’m a Unit Chief, Agent Turner. This is not the kind of supervisor I am.”
“It’s a good thing I am only consulting on your unit and not your direct report.”
“That’s not the only problem.” He was a skilled prosecutor, you could spend all afternoon volleying his counterarguments.
“There’s only a problem if you’re looking for one.” You crossed your arms over your chest.
“What’s that?” Hotch’s face shifted as he saw the discoloration along your wrist.
“Don’t change the subject, Hotch.” You straightened and stared back at him.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. But there won’t be anymore store room trysts.”
“I’m sorry, too.” You released the emergency knob. “Do you have any idea how many store rooms there are in this place?!”
The day and a half in the hotel room had faded from your skin, the last of the cuts healed over into a dull raised scar that you felt whenever you adjusted your bra strap. George had gone completely silent. No texts, no gifts left in your car or notes in the classified section. Give a guy a pint of blood and he just leaves you to civilian life.
The calendar was mocking you, hence you ripped it off the wall. It was today, eleven years ago that this whole mess began. It felt like it was yesterday and you grabbed the bottle of bourbon from above the fridge to keep the memories at bay. You shouldn’t have been this easily sidetracked, but dates stuck in your mind like the details of a crime scene, overly focused details and then, WHAM! panoramic clarity.
Your team had taken down the arms’ dealers in two calculated attacks. Hemmings took two to the vest, dumb ass. But your Chief and Strauss were chummy and pink faced in his office after the collar. One less fucking thing to worry about. Which was precisely your problem, not enough to occupy your time. The empty hours reminded you of your empty life. And how truly alone you were.
Stupidly, you grabbed your phone. You slurped down two long chugs before finding the recent calls menu. You stared at the uninspiring names of your teammates before finding one from the end of last month. The phone rang and you cleared your throat, trying to play coy.
The journalist let the call ring through to voicemail, whatever, his loss. It was only a Tuesday night and phone sex wasn’t your strong suit. Christ, Y/N, stop dwelling on the negative. You continued to page through your contacts, rolling your eyes at some and groaning in embarrassment at others.
It had taken the equivalent of five stiff drinks before you finally called who you had wanted to call in the first place. The only person who, just, got it.
“What if we never find him?” You asked as if it were a soul-baring sleepover secret. Just between friends in the latest of hours on the cusp of exhaustion would anyone admit these truths to one another.
“Y/N?” Hotch’s voice was crinkled, you had woken him up. “Foyet wants to be caught, he wants the notoriety.”
“But the only way we find him is--”
“If there are more bodies.” Hotch agreed in shared disappointment. “How many have you had?”
“Enough.”
“That’s good. Do you want to talk about it?” Why was he being so nice?
“I want to do more than just talk, Aaron.” He listened, waiting for you to elaborate or confess. You knew he wouldn’t play along. “I’m sorry, it’s a bad day and I chose you as a distraction. It’s not fair.”
“I’m not so easy offended, Y/N. I am happy to distract. Did you know that your Unit is getting a budget surplus after your last case? Might even get you better stake out vehicles.”
“Lucky us, now we just need Kevlar big enough to wrap Hemmings in, head to toe.”
Hotch laughed, he honestly laughed. It was like sunshine on the edge of a rain shower. You stayed on the line for an hour, just talking about anything that came to mind. He tried not to, but his son Jack came up more than once. The longing in his voice was painful and you took one last swig of whiskey to avoid the parallels of his pain and your past.
You said your good nights, leaving you to fall asleep on an unexpected even keel.
Walking into work the next morning, you held an extra box in your arms. If there was an acceptable gift for “Sorry I drunk dialed you on a school night and you had to talk my depressed ass away from the bottle”; pastries from your favorite Danish Bakery would be it. You pushed the call button to six and waited. You gulped an extra deep breath for courage and stepped out towards the BAU bullpen and froze on the spot.
Across the room and at every desk were commanding officers from every branch of the military, they were in full uniform, making the entire floor seem like an invasion. You took a tentative step forward and surrendered, you nearly sprinted back into the waiting elevator.
@benedictcumberbatchstolemyheart @a-unique-girls-heaven @gummiishark @rottendaisies @sunnygubler @lovebodymindstuff @archaic-zugswang @darkheartednerdwithglasses @mikri-oneiropola @princesswagger14 @justwinchesterme96 @profiler-in-training @kennybud @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed @conversations-with-you-61065 @dontshootmespence @moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown @cynbx @cherry-loves-fanfic @hotchnerfuckmeup @illegalcerebral @omallieallie @creativecody16 @kandii395 @tiny-potato-lives @april1535 @gabriellewritermua @daisydukes34 @fandomsxo @sonhadoraativa @nea90sweetie @mimiashton
#Criminal Minds#Infiltrated#Hotch#Foyet#Reader x Unsub#Hotch x reader#Foyet x reader#CM#criminal minds fanficitons#reader unsub#smut#blood#violence#cm fanfic#hotch fanfic#fanfiction#reader insert#dark and twisty
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