goorgeousz

[goorgeousz]

aaron likes to have his way with you before he leaves for work

drabble

+18 MDNI

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader content/tw: r has trouble sleeping (just me being self-indulgent once again), morning sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, established relationship, mentions of oral sex, lmk if i missed any! a/n: god forbid a girl wants some morning endorphin! enjoy this little thing while i work on a dbf!hotch fic inspired by aaron warner (hell yeah) <3 reqs open, thank you again for 500 followers i love you all 💗🪽 reposting this because i messed it up the first time! masterlist drabble masterlist

You spent your whole life thinking that not having a good sleep schedule wasn’t good for your health.

Being a light sleeper, not getting enough time to rest, waking up earlier than you should… All of that was normal to you. Not a flaw or a lack of skill, but just part of who you are. It usually doesn’t affect your routine, you were so used to it that having less hours asleep than most people didn’t make you less prepared for the day.

Of course, you did find yourself wishing you had it in you. The ability to fall asleep easily. It would be a very welcome trick on those lonely nights you spent at your place while your husband travelled to god knows where to catch psychopaths all around the country. You tried medicines, routines, different rituals and methods. Although some of them helped, nothing really seemed to completely handle the issue.

Nonetheless, you soon found out that your trouble sleeping could come in quite handy. Especially when said husband got back home in the middle of the night, so anxious to get back to you that he couldn’t wait for the flight in the morning. You hear the sounds from downstairs, and by the time he reached the bedroom door you were awake, slowly sitting up with your eyes half opened to find him staring at you with that smile and that gaze of relief that melts you everytime. While you wait for him to shower you quickly prepare him a cup of tea, getting ready to lay on his lap while he drinks the warm drink and wind down from the past days.

But truthfully, the best part was the mornings.

Aaron is a morning person. That was very much clear from the first look you took at him. And with the FBI and his healthy habits, his alarm always sets up at 6 a.m. sharp, almost every day. No snoozes, no safe alarms. One ring and he was up. Three of four if he’s had a specially rough night. It took you a few days sleeping with him for your body to get used to that routine and start to wake up at the same time as him.

After that, it took you another week for your body to wake up before the alarm went off. A few minutes in, the peaceful sounds of his breath against your neck, his arms weighing down on your waist and pulling you flush against his broad chest, sensing you too were awake and making sure you weren’t going to move away until you absolutely had to. More usually than not – especially with him being away as much as he was – the warmth of his body makes its way down to the middle of your thighs, and you have to convince yourself that he’s just casually breathing into your ear and it’s not a form of foreplay.

Your strength doesn’t last, though, and you find yourself all hot and bothered, wiggling your hips slightly until your ass is pressed directly into his crotch, and you feel him getting hard by the touch alone. It takes him little to no time to realize your intentions, and soon he’s gripping your hips and rocking into you over your clothes, humming against your shoulders and lazily kissing your neck.

He bites the shell of your ear, chuckles as you try to press into him harder to get some – anything, please – relief, massaging your breasts and pinching your nipples, grazing your bare thighs with his fingertips in a tough so light you have to look down to see if it’s actually there. And when you’re surrendering, begging, whining, ready to shove your panties down and take matters with your own hands, Hotch clasps your hand to your front, pinning them down with one hand and pulling himself out of his pajamas with the other, using the tip of his cock to tease your ass cheeks, murmuring praises on your ear before pulling your panties and shorts to the side with one swift motion and burying himself into you with one deep thrust.

You pant together for a second, delishing in the feeling of him stretching you this early in the morning, sometimes even before the sunrise.

“We’ll have to be quick, okay, honey?” he asks, his voice hoarse practically melting into your neck, to which you just agree between moans, fucking him back sleeply but eagerly. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise, and when his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing and pressing into it like it’s his job, that’s all it takes for you to collapse, orgasming so strongly it could put you back to sleep in a second. He’s not far behind, the way your body is trembling and your pussy clenching around him makes him follow suit behind you, and his movements become sloppy as he rides out his orgasm, filling you up with his seed.

Usually you have about thirty seconds to breathe before the alarm goes off, and he groans as he leans away to turn it off. He turns back to see you stretching or yawning, and he turns your body to him, chuckling as you smirk at him, pulling him into one last embrace before he gets up.

“I love you, Aaron.” you whisper.

“Yeah, I could tell.” he jokes, and you playfully smack his shoulder, making him laugh and leave a lovingly peck on your lips “I love you too, sweetheart.” And then, he gets up to get dressed and you sit pretty and behave until he leaves, not a minute after schedule – at least that’s what he tells you to do, right before one of you gets on your knees right under the bathroom sink and gives the other a second round.

@zunibugsiren @jazzimac1967 there it is!! i'm sorryyyyy lmao

[goorgeousz]

i’m GIGGLINGGGG so hard omg i loooooooove them emilyyyyyuuuuyy❤️once again you NAILED IT

CLOCKED IN

pairing: aaron hotchner x fake!fiancee!reader summary: hotch is trying his hardest to keep it together when your so-called friends crash the night out, good thing the bau are world class shit stirrers, based on this request. warnings: fluff, protective hotch but also protective bau!! brief reference to them meeting which can be read here word count: 1.3k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Hotch was, against all odds, and probably his own expectations, actually having a good time. Shocking, really. But he knew exactly why, it was you. You sitting under the glittering mirrorball light, talking with your hands mid-explanation. 

It was your first official time meeting the team, and he wasn’t even a little bit surprised by how quickly you charmed every single person at the table. You had that effect on people. It was something he’d always admired about you, and okay, maybe envied a little too. He wasn’t exactly known for being warm or approachable. His voice didn’t magically pull smiles from strangers. Yours did.

And yet somehow, you—completely out of the blue—had walked into a bar similar to this one and asked him, a total stranger, to pretend to be your fiance for the night. Still one of the most absurd things he’s ever heard and he deals with absurd for a living.

Maybe that bit of envy came from a selfish place, though. Because he liked to think that the effervescent side of you was something you saved just for him, but it wasn’t because you were like that with everyone. All grins, all giggles, all theatrics because that’s who you were. And it made him furious inside to imagine anyone taking advantage of that. Like those awful friends who made you feel like you had to lie in the first place.

Still, in a roundabout, slightly messed-up way, he guessed he owed them one. Because their cruelty had delivered you straight to him.

He was mid-sip of his drink when he caught the way your smile wobbled. And when you did a double take towards the front door, his eyes were inclined to follow to see who or what he was going to have to glare at for sucking the light from your face that fast.

He didn’t even try to hide the exasperated sigh that left him.

“Oh boy,” you muttered, eyes still on the door.

“Do you know them?” JJ asked, leaning forward over a cluster of empty cocktail glasses. “Because they’re pointing.”

“And coming over,” Morgan added, eyebrows raised.

You straightened in your seat. “That’s…the quarter of the group responsible for me meeting Aaron.”

“No!” Penelope gasped, hand flying to her chest. “You mean those friends? The ones you had to lie to? The whole fake-fiancé saga?”

“In the flesh,” you confirmed, grabbing your drink and taking two very necessary gulps as Aaron braced himself for the evening to dissolve into performative lunacy. 

You shifted in your seat beside him, shoulders going stiff in that I’m fine, this is fine way that meant the opposite. And yeah, his jaw clenched. Because the idea of you having to perform just to feel safe, or liked, or respected? Made his blood run hot. Especially when you were surrounded by people who actually saw you—really saw you—and didn’t need a single performance to adore you.

“Oh my god! Okay! We all have very important parts to play,” Penelope whisper-yelled at the table.

“Just don’t make it weirder than it has to be,” Emily muttered, toying with her paper straw.

“You want another drink?” Rossi nudged Aaron who just glared at the older man. “Come on, lighten up. I didn’t get to see you in fiancé-action last time.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Hotch said dryly, reaching over and resting his hand over yours in a squeeze.

You turned to face him and the panicked look on your face made his stomach knot. “I’m sorry for this. I had no idea they’d be here, I haven’t even spoken to them in months.”

“You don’t owe me an apology, just like you don’t owe them a damn thing.” His tone softened. “But if you want an out, just say the word, I’ll make up an excuse and we’re gone.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but it was too late.

“Wow,” came a voice you knew all too well. “Look who it is.”

“Veronica.” You offered a perfectly polite, perfectly fake smile. “Dani,” you added, glancing at her tagalong.

“Mind if we sit with your fiancé and friends?” Veronica asked, already pulling a chair over from the table behind because she wasn’t actually asking or waiting for permission. She wedged herself in between you and Emily.

Dani copied her motions, plopping herself down between Penelope and Spencer. The poor genius looked like he was calculating the fastest way to disassociate, especially when Dani’s manicured hands rested a little too close to his drink. 

“So,” Veronica said, all teeth. “Are you going to introduce us?” She glanced around the table. “How do you all know the happy couple?”

“We work with Hotch,” Morgan answered smoothly, lifting his glass. “FBI.”

“Oh. Wow. That’s… intense.”

“Depends on the day,” Emily chimed in, “But yeah, keeps us busy.”

Veronica’s icy gaze slid to you, her mouth twitching. “Must be nice. All that… structure and stability. Probably pays off a little more than fashion, huh?”

You barely had time to get a word out before Penelope jumped in for you. “Oh, sweetie. One campaign of hers pays more than my entire annual salary. And I’m not exactly working for peanuts.”

You let out a sheepish laugh, just as Aaron’s thumb pressed gently against your hand, as if reminding you to breathe. 

“Anyway,” Dani piped up, suddenly remembering she had both a voice and a personality, “how’s wedding planning going? You must be deep in it by now, right?”

“Weren’t you just looking at venues?” Rossi added with a grin, like he’d been personally waiting for this moment. Hotch made a mental note to get him store-brand whiskey for his next birthday.

“We were,” Hotch replied as casually as he could manage. “She wants a beach wedding. I want one where her dress doesn’t blow into the ocean.”

Morgan snorted while JJ shook her head, trying and failing to hide a smile. 

“Tell the truth,” Emily grinned. “You just don’t want sand in your shoes.”

“I don't want sand in my everything,” Hotch said flatly, taking a sip of his drink at the involuntary conversation. 

“Fair,” Morgan laughed, tipping his glass towards him. “Sand gets everywhere. Man’s got a point.”

“Well, the guest list must be pretty large then,” Veronica went on, smiling just a little too sweetly. “Half the FBI, and of course us, your best friends. You’ll need something that can accommodate everyone.”

“We’re keeping it small,” Hotch almost snarled, his tone landing somewhere between polite restraint and you’re not fucking invited. Not that there was an actual wedding, but if he ever did marry you, those two would be the last names on the list.

“Oh! But you have to have bridesmaids, right?” Dani pressed on, gesturing between herself and Veronica. “I mean, you’re probably thinking of us, your best friends—”

“We haven’t gotten that far,” you cut her off.

“Besides,” Emily added with a shark-like smile, “it’s so hard to find dresses that don’t clash with fragile egos.”

Your eyebrows shot up before you could stop them. Morgan was grinning like a man thoroughly entertained. JJ stifled a laugh behind a cough. And Spencer? He just looked politely baffled, having subtly nudged his drink as far away from Dani’s claws as possible without making it look like he was giving it to Rossi. 

Hotch, meanwhile, added a new line to his growing mental list: whatever bottle Emily wanted for her birthday, she was getting the top shelf version. Hell, maybe two. 

Some of the tension in his chest eased a little and he hoped yours had too. Because if there was one thing his team excelled at, it was rallying around someone they’d decided was theirs. And judging by the grins, side-eyes, and Emily’s very intentional lack of filter, the BAU had officially clocked in.

Not for a case. 

For you. 

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic @yourallaround-simp @percysley @wowitsafemale @cinnamoncunt @keiminds @iyskgd @mystic-rox @insured-by-the-mafia @mggslover @star-crossed-sephie @tearykth @2dloveshp  @lovelystrawberry @imissaaronhotchner @justyourusualash @alexxavicry @storiesofsvu @ehedrick012110 @hopelessromantic727 @piatosniathenie @averyhotchner @softtdaisy @khxna @thehotchners @tinythebunni @violettablackwood @starsmoonn @kajjaka

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[goorgeousz]

part of me is lowkey happy ab it… next thing you know they’d be killing his son😭 OR even hotch himself

I think it's a crime there was never an episode titled "Aaron"

[goorgeousz]

DELICIOUS omfg i’ve never related so much with a smut before 1000000/10

no bark, all bite | aaron hotchner x reader

nsfw, mdni 

summary: you can’t help but bite Aaron when he wears a short sleeve shirt. 

word count: 1.8k

cw: smut, biting (all aaron receiving), unprotected sex, f!reader, holy moly his arms in that gif

based on this post by @l1v1ngz0mb1e

It had been difficult to get used to seeing Aaron out of his suits. Not in a bad way, not at all. But it was difficult to behave yourself when he wore those polo shirts that revealed just enough of his biceps to make your mouth water. 

That’s not to say his suits didn’t reveal a lot. You’d noticed recently his button ups clung to him tighter than usual. A good girlfriend would buy him a size up, but you wouldn’t dream of it. You enjoyed it too much when he’d take off his suit jacket and you could see the seams practically bursting as his muscles flexed beneath his shirts. 

But it was even better when you could see the skin, the veins, the hair on his arms. It was the complete picture, all that you imagined when his long sleeves were covering him. And somehow, it felt even more erotic to get a glimpse of him from beneath a short sleeve shirt than to actually see him shirtless. 

He truly was very distracting. Every day, you wondered how any of his coworkers were able to get anything done while he was around. 

And here you are again, trying to focus on the task at hand while all you can think about is his arms. It was a Friday night, Jack was at a sleepover, and Aaron had invited you over. You’d had dinner at his house, simply enjoying the company, and forcing yourself to not stare at his biceps. 

Your dinners at home are always casual, as Aaron wants to get out of his suits as much as he can and wear something more comfortable. 

(You can relate to wanting to get him out of his suits, although in a different way.) 

Tonight, he answered the door in track pants and a t-shirt. When he opened it, you instantly knew you’d have trouble keeping your eyes off of him. But you smile as normally as possible, setting the wine down on the counter. 

Once your hands are free, he wraps you in a hug, and you can’t help but focus on the strength of his arms around you. You can feel his muscles squeezing your sides, and you almost feel bad that you’re objectifying so hard. You know the tight hug is simply his way of comforting himself, releasing the stress of his job, but it almost makes your eyes roll back as you feel how tight his grip is.

He pulls back, his hands on your shoulders, leaving his biceps right in your sight line. He says something you don’t even hear, and when you nod mindlessly, he leads you to the table. 

You eat dinner, listening to him talk about work. And every time he takes a sip of his water, the sleeve of his shirt pulls up, giving you an even better view. You manage to focus on his stories, even though half your brain power is being used to keep your eyes from drifting. 

After dinner, you end up on the couch, sitting side by side. You might have eaten already, but the sight of him in that shirt is making you want something else to chew on.  His arm wraps around you as he nuzzles into your neck. 

“I missed you,” he murmurs, kissing your pulse point gently. 

“Missed you, too,” you say, your hands moving to squeeze his arm. Your grip tightens as he continues to trail kisses along your neck, until he pulls back. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but you lean forward, taking his bicep in between your teeth and biting down before he can speak. 

“Hey!”

You pull back, a grin on your face. “Got you.”

“What was that for?”

Your index finger rubs circles onto the area with the small indents that are slowly disappearing. “You just looked… biteable.”

He raises an eyebrow in fake indignation. “Biteable?” 

You nod, pushing his sleeve up more to bite him again, this time probably harder than you should. 

He hisses softly, staring down at the way his arm turns red in the shape of your teeth as you pull away. 

You almost tell him he’s asking for it with the shirt he’s got on, dressed like an absolute whore in that gray t-shirt, but get distracted by the skin he’s showing. 

You take his wrists, pulling his arm up to your mouth. You bite his upper arm again, then move down, biting from his bicep to his forearms. Each time, you nip a bit harder, slowly getting addicted to the feeling of his skin pulling between your jaws. 

You take extra care when you reach that vein on his forearm, tracing it with your tongue before taking it in your mouth, gnawing on him like a puppy with its favorite chew toy. 

“Stop that,” he says with no real fire behind his words. It’s what he always says when he wants something but is too embarrassed to admit it’s turning him on— as if you can’t feel the hardness forming beneath his pants. 

“No,” you say, eliciting a small laugh from Aaron. 

You nip at his neck, getting him right in that spot you know he likes, so he doesn’t argue when you slip his shirt off and push him down on the couch. 

You graze your teeth from his collarbone to his chest, biting on the flesh of his peck. He gives a groan in response as you lick the spot to soothe it. 

He nearly whines your name as you slide off his pants, then take his underwear off. When you gaze down at him, it becomes clear he’s enjoying it more than he lets on. 

“I just want to nibble on you,” you say as you nip at his hip bone.

“I thought you said you were full after dinner,” Aaron says breathlessly, a hand tangling in your hair. 

“You’re my dessert.”

You bite his thigh, hard enough that you know it’ll leave a mark tomorrow. The supple flesh of his thighs squeeze between your teeth, and you feel the dampness pooling in your underwear as you taste his skin. 

“Baby,” he says, gently tugging on your hair to get you to look at him. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re being a tease.”

You giggle, taking your shirt off. His large hands immediately go to your back, unhooking your bra. He pulls you into a deep kiss, and you unzip your jeans as he tongue slips into your mouth. When he pulls back, you capture his bottom lip between your teeth, letting it pull before you release him. 

You hurriedly slip your pants off, straddling him. “You just look delicious. I could eat you up.”

He gives a chuckle, hands going to your hips. “My little vampire.”

You smile in response, shifting above his length, grasping the base of it and guiding yourself down. 

You both tilt your heads back as you slowly sink onto him, breaths becoming more rapid. 

Once he bottoms out, you lean down, giving his neck a love bite. When you pull back, it’s clear that you’ve bitten him hard enough that he’ll have to hope there’s no case over the weekend to give the bruise time to heal before he has to face his coworkers again. 

He gives your hip two gentle taps, signaling you to start moving before he does it himself. You take the cue, slowly riding him. It’s not lost on you that his muscles flex every time your walls flutter. In fact, you make a point to deliberately squeeze him, just like your teeth were squeezing him earlier. 

Usually, you’re watching his face, focused on the way his eyelids flutter. But tonight, you can’t tear your eyes away from the way his biceps flex as he grips your hips, the movement of the muscles emphasizing the bite marks you’ve littered along his body. 

You place a hand on his chest for leverage, bouncing faster as his groans spur you on. You will always be grateful that he’s let loose with you, giving himself permission to be vocal beneath your touch. You reward his sounds with your own moans, desperate as you feel every inch of him filling you up. 

You get carried away as you gaze at his build, losing rhythm in your distracted state of mind. You don’t even notice his whimpers go from pleasured to depreciate until he can’t resist any longer and starts to buck up into you. 

“So good,” you whimper out. 

“I know,” he says, fingers digging into your hips. You know it’ll leave an imprint, but it’s only fair after what you've done to mark him up. 

He’s pressing into you deep enough that it reaches your brain, thoughts going blank as you mindlessly meet his thrusts. 

As he starts to lose control of his hips, your walls clamp around him, coaxing him into filling you up. 

You’re back arches as you fall over the edge, the wetness of your release dripping down your thighs and onto his. 

The feeling of you coming around him has Aaron quickly following, his eyes glued to your chest as your back arches. His hips stutter as he gives one last deep thrust, painting your insides white. 

He gently pulls you down to rest on his chest, hugging you tightly to help you come down for your high. As he wraps his arms around you, your eyes are drawn to his muscles again, your hazy mind still having enough power to seek out his arms. 

You wrap your arms around his forearm, nuzzling into his upper arm. 

“You’re really obsessed with me tonight, aren’t you?” He says it teasingly, flexing as a half-joke. 

You take the opportunity to bite him again, not releasing him for a good few seconds. 

“Are you staying like that all night?”

You hum around him, opening your jaws even further to take more of him in your mouth. 

He laughs softly, patting your back. “You’ve gotta let me go eventually.”

You sigh around him, eventually releasing him and laying your cheek down on your chest, his peck right in view for you to admire the teeth marks you’d left. You trace it gently, proud of your work. 

“You know, it’s not nice to act like a teething puppy while your boyfriend is at your mercy.”

You giggle. “Then you shouldn’t be so biteable. I could chew on you all night.”

“You’re so cute I might let you.”

You snuggle even closer to him. “Besides, what’s so wrong about appreciating my big, strong man?”

Aaron rolls his eyes, even though he can’t help but blush at your words.

As he holds you tighter, you feel content, not even tempted to bite him as you watch his arms. At least, for now. And as Aaron falls asleep with you on top of him, he has a looming suspicion that his wake up call (and your breakfast) tomorrow will be the pressure of your teeth around his bare arm. 

[goorgeousz]

hi hi baby♥️how are you?

so...i was thinking maybe the reader likes to leave kiss marks on hotch's shirts either near the heart or on the collar of his shirt, maybe the reader is not a member of the bau or maybe works in another unit but in the same building and does not know that jokes are their love language and when they start making jokes about their relationship, calling it 'childish love,' she gets a little embarrassed and stops doing it, and when hotch asks her She tells him she wishes she had been born earlier and tells him she heard about the jokes and he says 'that's why you stopped doing it?🤨' and she tells him that she stopped doing it so that they wouldn't make fun of him, and he takes the time to explain that that's the team dynamic.

and the next morning he arrives with a kiss on the cheek or chin, very proud of it, holding her hand🥹🥹 and when they say goodbye, he takes her face in his big hands and kisses her all over and she just laughs silly and cute.🥹🥹🥹🤍🤍🤍 and hotch is kind of like 'please kiss me forever🥺'

congratulations on 400 followers, love, you deserve many more!🥹🎉♥️♥️

also, as always, only write this if you're comfortable, and if you think you need to change anything about this, pls do, i'm happy to read anything you write, i hope this has the same meaning written as i imagined it.🥲♥️

i hope you have a great week, sending you lots of love!✨✨

xoxoxo

lipstick stain | aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader summary: you stop kissing your boyfriend because his friends were making fun of him. aaron was having none of it. content/tw: reader wears lipstick, established relationship, age gap, height difference, very silly, fluff, mentions of them having sex (not descriptive), suggestive ending word count: 2.9k a/n: hey my love!!!! i’m great, currently on finals week so a little bit stressed out, but overall fine!! how ab you?? i truly hope you’re okay!! thank you so much, i’m so happy! also, thank you for this request, you already now i’m the biggest fan of whatever you suggest me! it’s so on character of him (in my opinion) and i always have the best time writing them!!! again, thank you so much for everything!!!! sending you much much love, have a great one!!! xxxxx dividers by @uzmacchiato masterlist <3

Standing next to Aaron, even on high heels, you face his chest. Which was very convenient in moments like this, in which you helped him adjust his tie, trying not to blush while he stared you down with that much attention. 

Softening the fabric of his dress shirt – already perfectly smooth – in a delicate caress, your hand stopped at his chest, right above his heart. Even with the layers of clothing, you felt the strong and steady beat of his heart, like it was claiming for your attention. Impulsively, feeling a rush of affection, you leaned forward and kissed the spot, feeling his torno vibrate under your lips.

As soon as you stepped back, your eyes widened. In the middle of the blindingly white fabric, a kiss stain stood out, its shade between pink and maroon, exactly like the lipstick you’d just applied a few minutes before.

“Oh my god, Aaron, I’m sorry. Take it off, I’ll wash it in a minute.” you urged, trying to tug his shirt out of his pants.

“There’s no need.” he said, gently stopping your hands and moving them out of his shirt.

“There’s no… Are you crazy? Are you going to use a stained shirt?”

“Customized” he corrected, smirking as he looked at himself in the mirror, his expression somehow… proud? “Besides, you can’t even see it under the suit.” to prove his explanation, he dressed up the suit, buttoning up and smiling cheekily at you, as if saying ‘Told you so’.

He was right, it wasn’t visible. You frowned, still embarrassed for staining his expensive shirt. He just grabbed your face between his palms, leaving a kiss on the wrinkles on your nose.

“It’ll be our secret. Like Clark Kent.” he joked, his face mockingly serious.

“That’s my 12 old self’s dream.”

“Superman was your childhood crush?” his tone was a mix of mockery and amusement.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve always had a thing for tall brunettes with a savior complex.”

Aaron laughed loudly at that, his head threw back. All the embarrassment you felt before simply vanished.

And just like that, a ritual started. Every day you drove to work together (almost every day), just before you parted ways, you left a hidden kiss on him. On his shoulder, on his arms, his wrist, his chest. Sometimes, when you were feeling specially bold, you kissed just below his tie. And whenever he was free (which was rarer than you liked), he sent you a picture of the stain with a message (many of those, if ever caught, would send you both to a week-long seminar on inappropriate behavior at work) about how he missed you.

It was silly. A ridiculous habit, even. But it was so good, so fun. And it was yours. You loved every second.

That’s it, until one day where you’d been particularly careless. To your defense, you’d spent days apart because of one of those complex cases. So it wasn’t your fault that you wanted to spend every free moment making out with each other. And that morning he was – for a lack of better word – irresistible, with his hair messy and still dump from the shower, the mix of his soap, after shave and cologne invading your nostrils and clouding your senses, his perfectly smoothened white shirt and tie still undone – one could argue that that was his looks every single day, but there was something in the air, you swore.

So, yes, you may have pushed him back to bed. And you might have suggested – begged , with wide glistening eyes and a whine – that he kept his suit on while he trusted in and out of you. And you definitely grabbed him by the lapels of his suit, leaving a kiss stain right on the collar of his shirt, where he couldn’t be able to hide it, and whispered how he was all yours while an earth-shattering orgasm washed over you.

Although he was the one to blame, in his opinion. And he didn’t complain in the slightest, puffing his chest proudly as he finished getting dressed, zipping his pants back on and admiring the red stain contrasting with the white of his shirt. 

On that very same day, not having yet made up for the time apart, as soon as you were out of the clock, you got into the elevator, leaving your floor and  going straight up to your boyfriend’s. Knowing the workaholic you so lovingly called yours, you knew he would stay late, drawing himself on paperwork. It was only fair to order take-out, have dinner with him and lay on his office’s comfortable couch, enjoying his presence (in silence) (it was never silent for long, but that was the condition to be there so you had to pretend). Some of the many perks of dating a unit chief.

You were seated, your shoes long forgotten somewhere on the corner of the room, your legs crossed under you as you waited for Aaron to grab napkins and cups from the shared kitchen when you heard it. His office’s door had stayed open since your relationship stopped being a secret long ago.

“Next thing we’ll see is Hotch wearing a leash” Morgan’s voice echoed through the bullpen.

“Morgan, please.” you heard Aaron’s exasperated tone, muffled by the collective laughter.

“Don’t listen to him, Hotch” Emily defended “It’s very common nowadays between the seventh graders.” another wave of laughter filled the room.

“It’s adorable, actually.” JJ added, amused.

“Didn’t Henry get home with a similar stain on his cheek last week?” Spencer asked, even him joining the teasing

“Enough. I can still fire all of you.” your boyfriend threatened, receiving more laughs and jokes in return.

And that’s the last thing you heard before he walked back into the office, rolling his eyes in annoyance and closing the door with a bit more force than usual. 

Not knowing how to react, you just pretended you didn’t hear it, offering him a smile and throwing a random comment about the food.

The rest of the dinner went pleasantly, but half of you wasn’t there. You couldn’t stop thinking about what his team said. Wasn’t it actually childish? You and Aaron had an age gap, indeed. Visually undeniable. But that’s never been a thing between you.

All the horrors you dealt with on a daily basis made you seem older than others your age, and even though you were considerably younger than him, it wasn’t noticeable in your conversations and not once you had a problem because of immaturity or anything of the sort. But it was something you thought about, sometimes. Being with someone older and, specially, as responsible and stable as Aaron, there’s no way you wouldn’t second guess yourself, at least once. Luckily, he was too good of a person to ever make you feel insecure about it, which led you with only your anxious mind to blame.

The relationship you built was so solid and healthy that you usually found yourself forgetting to worry about the outside world, about what others may think, too wrapped up on your own little happy bubble. But, obviously, his friends would question the fact that he ended up with someone that younger than him. You just didn’t know it would affect you that much.

You didn’t want to embarrass Aaron. So, although you pretend everything were fine,  that thought stayed in the back of your mind.

On the next day, you ended up getting late — for a very good reason. three good reasons, actually — and on the elevator, ready to part ways, Hotch leaned closer to you, angling his torso in a move that was more of a muscular memory than a conscious decision, and waited for the kiss.

Needless to say, you panicked. You definitely weren’t ready to have that discussion, so just turning your head and denying him his kiss was not an option. And you were still feeling too anxious to be able to ignore it all and stain his shirt again and risk his dignity.

So, since you still hadn’t had time — again, for great reasons —  to think about how to handle the situation, you simply did the best you could: yanked him by the neck and locked your lips to his.

Caught by surprise, Aaron stayed still for a second. But nothing more than that, because the very next moment he relaxed, smiling into the kiss and squeezing your hip with his free hand. Before he could ask you anything, the elevator came to a stop, reaching your floor first, and you stepped out hurriedly, mumbling a “i love you” and giving him a smile that you hoped looked mischievous but probably just seemed phony.

The next few days went just as smoothly (not at all). You realized he won’t stop doing it, reaching for your kisses, so you come up with the best solution available: stop wearing lipstick.

As expected, he noticed it and questioned you instantly. To which you replied with another question “Why? Didn’t like it?” resorting to the most basic avoiding method.

“Of course I did.” he answered without missing a beat, his eyes falling down to your lips covered with a clear gloss, and having to force his gaze away back to your eyes after in order to continue the conversation “But I don’t think I’ve ever see you leaving the house without it”

You scoffed, turning around and checking yourself in the mirror. Being, yet again, completely obvious in your try to avoid the subject. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t catch on. “That’s probably not true.”

Before he could press you any further, you turned back to face him and joined your lips together in a slow and deep kiss. Any point he could possibly have made died just then, swallowed on pleasure sounds and the dance of your tongues.

And later, when he leaned towards you waiting for the kiss, you didn’t hesitate to graze your lips on the fabric of his shirt, happy to have found a solution that didn’t involve embarrassing him in front of his friends or explaining the reason behind your change of behavior.

Everything was fine, for now.

A few days have passed, and your guard is finally already down. On that specific morning, Aaron was ready to work, impeccable in his expansive suit, leaning against the bathroom door, watching you do your makeup, with your products layed on the counter.

He was explaining a discussion he had with the director a few days before, and you were so focused on his words you barely registered your own movements, counting on your muscular memory to repeat your daily routine.

Maybe because of that, you didn’t realize your hand subconsciously reached for the lipstick right by the sink. Your fingers hovered over it for a second, grazing the small tube, until you recovered your senses and put it to the side, quickly grabbing the closest product and secretly hoped for Aaron to be so lost on his story that he misses it.

As the attentive boyfriend – and profiler – that he was, of course he noticed it. So much that he stopped mid sentence, his eyes sharp on yours.

“What was that?” he asked slowly, arching an eyebrow.

“What was what?”

He tilted his head to the side, in a silent warning that it was not going to work.

“I got distracted.”

“Why did you stop wearing lipstick?” that was it. Point blank. There was no avoiding it now.

Nonetheless, you rolled your eyes, feeling embarrassed that this was even a topic. “No reason.”

“Honey” he coached, his voice gentle and nudging. In a span of five seconds you rolled your eyes again, sighing and deciding to just get this over with.

“I didn’t want to stain your shirt.”

He frowned, his forehead wrinkling in confusion “It’s not a stain, it’s a kiss.”

“A kiss stain. Anyway, it’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not… Where did this come from?” “Aaron,” you whined, blushing. “Not everything has to be a conversation.”

“I disagree.” he interrupted, but you didn’t even listen.

“I just don’t want you to have a meeting with the director board wearing a stained shirt. It’s not professional.”

“Since when do we care about that?” he tried, exasperated.

“We’re functional adults, government employees. Of course that…” but you had already lost his attention, his eyes narrowed in your direction through the mirror, like he was trying to read your mind.

“Adults?” you hated your choice of words “What is this really about?” you took a deep breath in resignation, letting your head drop down. Soon after, you felt his hands holding your waist, turning you to face him and gently touching your chin, tilting your face up towards his “Hey, you can tell me anything.”

“I just want to be more serious, you know? More mature.”

“You’re one of the most emotionally intelligent people I’ve known. Including me.”

“But I’m immature.”

“Not at  all. And you know it.” he asserted, serious. Then, his voice went softer again “What don’t you explain what’s going on, hm? Please, let me understand you.”

You completely melted at that “I wish I was born sooner. Be more like you guys.”

“‘You guys’ who?”

“Your team. I overheard them talking that night in your office, and I know they think our relationship is childish. And it’s obviously because of me.” 

He smiled, slowly and reverently, looking at you like you alone held the moon and the stars on your eyes.

“Sweetheart, you’re completely misreading the situation.” he said, his voice and his smile softening the blow “Listen, I know we haven’t really had that conversation yet, but you know my childhood was… hard. I was forced to mature much younger than I should've. I ended up missing many of the youths' average experiences. I buried myself into work as soon as I could, and even though it brought me where I am today, I know it cost me a lot.” he paused, taking a deep breath and staring deep into you, as if to make sure you were understanding everything “Ever since I’ve met you, I started to feel young again. In the best way possible. Not because of your age, but because of your heart. You’re kind, smart, funny and so incredibly sweet. You encourage me to be better every day, and everytime I see you I feel like a teenager experiencing my first love.”

With your heart nearly exploding with love, you tugged him closer, kissing him so deeply and tenderly, hoping that he would feel everything you could never manage to put into words.

“We don’t have to keep doing it if it makes you feel bad. But I thought you liked our little joke.” he whispered, his forehead pressed against yours. You felt your face blushing, the proximity and his voice so close and treating you with so much reverence.

“I love it. But I don’t want to be the reason why your friends make fun of you.”

Hotch stopped for a second, as if he didn’t hear what you’ve said. Then, he stepped back, with an exasperated smile. “Don’t worry about that, honey. We’re very close, the team. We tease each other all the time, it’s how we demonstrate affection. We already deal with too much darkness in our lives, that’s the way we found to keep things lighter and a little more bearable.

“Really?” you bit your lip, your eyes widening in hope. His smile grew even more.

“Mhm. They’re crazy about you. Some of them say, and I quote, that I ‘became bearable after you. Sometimes even pleasant to be around. Much less tyrant.’”

You giggled, lacing your arms around his neck “You are kind of a tyrant, indeed.”

He rolled his eyes, laughing, but visibly happier to have solved the problem than actually annoyed at your teasing.

“Nothing you ever feel makes you immature. I want to know all of your thoughts and anguish. Next time just talk to me, okay?”

You nodded “Okay.” he stared at you a little longer, just making sure you really were fine and every doubt about your relationship and yourself left entirely your mind, before he hugged you again, sneaking his arms around your waist and tugging you flush across his chest.

“And promise me, you’ll never punish me like that ever again. Depriving me of your kisses.” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose into your neck. You chuckle.

“I wasn’t punishing you.”

“It felt like it. Promise.” he insisted, his hands squeezing your hips. You leaned back just so he could see the found and honest glint in your eyes, looking at his with nothing but love, and the smirk on your lips as you extended your right hand to him, lifting your pinky in his direction.

“I promise.”

Later, when the two of you arrived at the fbi building, you had your dark and shiny lipstick tinting your lips. And in the very same color and shape of your mouth, Hotch had a mark on his jaw, showing it off like a badge.

Besides that, he also had three kiss stains distributed on his clothes: one just above the heart, another one on his lower stomach.

As for the third…

taglist: all hotch @winyourheartemma all cm @s0urw00lf @deeninadream

[goorgeousz]

oh yayyyyyy i’m so happy you liked it!!!! i loveeee your fics 😭 and SAME! i’m a sucker for details (and for hotch….. obviously)

thank you so muchhh babes💗💗💗💗🪽

aaron likes to have his way with you before he leaves for work

drabble

+18 MDNI

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader content/tw: r has trouble sleeping (just me being self-indulgent once again), morning sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, established relationship, mentions of oral sex, lmk if i missed any! a/n: god forbid a girl wants some morning endorphin! enjoy this little thing while i work on a dbf!hotch fic inspired by aaron warner (hell yeah) <3 reqs open, thank you again for 500 followers i love you all 💗🪽 reposting this because i messed it up the first time! masterlist drabble masterlist

You spent your whole life thinking that not having a good sleep schedule wasn’t good for your health.

Being a light sleeper, not getting enough time to rest, waking up earlier than you should… All of that was normal to you. Not a flaw or a lack of skill, but just part of who you are. It usually doesn’t affect your routine, you were so used to it that having less hours asleep than most people didn’t make you less prepared for the day.

Of course, you did find yourself wishing you had it in you. The ability to fall asleep easily. It would be a very welcome trick on those lonely nights you spent at your place while your husband travelled to god knows where to catch psychopaths all around the country. You tried medicines, routines, different rituals and methods. Although some of them helped, nothing really seemed to completely handle the issue.

Nonetheless, you soon found out that your trouble sleeping could come in quite handy. Especially when said husband got back home in the middle of the night, so anxious to get back to you that he couldn’t wait for the flight in the morning. You hear the sounds from downstairs, and by the time he reached the bedroom door you were awake, slowly sitting up with your eyes half opened to find him staring at you with that smile and that gaze of relief that melts you everytime. While you wait for him to shower you quickly prepare him a cup of tea, getting ready to lay on his lap while he drinks the warm drink and wind down from the past days.

But truthfully, the best part was the mornings.

Aaron is a morning person. That was very much clear from the first look you took at him. And with the FBI and his healthy habits, his alarm always sets up at 6 a.m. sharp, almost every day. No snoozes, no safe alarms. One ring and he was up. Three of four if he’s had a specially rough night. It took you a few days sleeping with him for your body to get used to that routine and start to wake up at the same time as him.

After that, it took you another week for your body to wake up before the alarm went off. A few minutes in, the peaceful sounds of his breath against your neck, his arms weighing down on your waist and pulling you flush against his broad chest, sensing you too were awake and making sure you weren’t going to move away until you absolutely had to. More usually than not – especially with him being away as much as he was – the warmth of his body makes its way down to the middle of your thighs, and you have to convince yourself that he’s just casually breathing into your ear and it’s not a form of foreplay.

Your strength doesn’t last, though, and you find yourself all hot and bothered, wiggling your hips slightly until your ass is pressed directly into his crotch, and you feel him getting hard by the touch alone. It takes him little to no time to realize your intentions, and soon he’s gripping your hips and rocking into you over your clothes, humming against your shoulders and lazily kissing your neck.

He bites the shell of your ear, chuckles as you try to press into him harder to get some – anything, please – relief, massaging your breasts and pinching your nipples, grazing your bare thighs with his fingertips in a tough so light you have to look down to see if it’s actually there. And when you’re surrendering, begging, whining, ready to shove your panties down and take matters with your own hands, Hotch clasps your hand to your front, pinning them down with one hand and pulling himself out of his pajamas with the other, using the tip of his cock to tease your ass cheeks, murmuring praises on your ear before pulling your panties and shorts to the side with one swift motion and burying himself into you with one deep thrust.

You pant together for a second, delishing in the feeling of him stretching you this early in the morning, sometimes even before the sunrise.

“We’ll have to be quick, okay, honey?” he asks, his voice hoarse practically melting into your neck, to which you just agree between moans, fucking him back sleeply but eagerly. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise, and when his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing and pressing into it like it’s his job, that’s all it takes for you to collapse, orgasming so strongly it could put you back to sleep in a second. He’s not far behind, the way your body is trembling and your pussy clenching around him makes him follow suit behind you, and his movements become sloppy as he rides out his orgasm, filling you up with his seed.

Usually you have about thirty seconds to breathe before the alarm goes off, and he groans as he leans away to turn it off. He turns back to see you stretching or yawning, and he turns your body to him, chuckling as you smirk at him, pulling him into one last embrace before he gets up.

“I love you, Aaron.” you whisper.

“Yeah, I could tell.” he jokes, and you playfully smack his shoulder, making him laugh and leave a lovingly peck on your lips “I love you too, sweetheart.” And then, he gets up to get dressed and you sit pretty and behave until he leaves, not a minute after schedule – at least that’s what he tells you to do, right before one of you gets on your knees right under the bathroom sink and gives the other a second round.

@zunibugsiren @jazzimac1967 there it is!! i'm sorryyyyy lmao

[goorgeousz]

“Because this? A bar, a night off, your clothes, your smile, a stranger’s hand on your waist? This wasn’t his jurisdiction. This was your playing field now. And Aaron was a benched sub who’d already had his shot and fumbled the pass, reduced to a spectator at best. A ghost, more likely.”

whaaaaaaaaat????? this is so clever oh my god!!! this was amazing!!! jealous hotch???? ex hotch???? yeah, absolutely!! give it to meeeeee

EX-FACTOR

pairing: aaron hotchner x ex!reader summary: hotch swears he's listening to rossi, except he can’t focus on a single word when you’re at the bar with another guy, based on this request. warnings: hotch is turning greeeeen from jealousy!! pining, hotch just wants his baby back word count: 0.6k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Aaron was trying to listen to Rossi—really, he was. Something about a plot of land and investment potential and tax benefits or… God, he’d lost the thread ages ago. He nodded here and there, tossed out a half-hearted “yeah?” or “makes sense,” but his focus wasn’t anywhere near the conversation. Neither were his eyes.

They were glued to the crowd, more specifically to the gap in it. The spot where you used to be.

You’d disappeared ten minutes ago, and so had the guy who’d been flirting with you. Some twenty-something whose fingers grazed the side of your waist like he had any right to be even within six feet of you.

“And what exactly is your plan for tonight?” Rossi asked, swirling the last bit of his bourbon. 

“What?”

“The staring? Gripping your glass like it can breathe?” Rossi lifted his brows. “What’s next? You going to challenge him to a duel?”

“I’m just watching,” Aaron muttered.

“Mmm,” Rossi said, which was Italian for you’re full of shit but I’m going to let you dig this hole a little deeper.

Aaron didn’t respond, his eyes doing their seventh sweep of the minute. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for the most, that you’d look back and catch him, or that the guy would spontaneously combust under the weight of his scowl. But for any of that to happen, he had to see where you were.

And he knew that he had no right. That it wasn’t his business anymore, that the only real authority he had over you these days was inside a briefing room with a suspect on the board. Because this? A bar, a night off, your clothes, your smile, a stranger’s hand on your waist? This wasn’t his jurisdiction. This was your playing field now. And Aaron was a benched sub who’d already had his shot and fumbled the pass, reduced to a spectator at best. A ghost, more likely. 

“She’s allowed to dance, you know,” Rossi continued, not unkindly. “Even allowed to enjoy it.”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t.”

“Good,” Rossi said, far too breezily. “Maybe she even left with him. Can’t see her anywhere.”

Aaron’s head whipped towards the exit so fast, it stirred a breeze around him. For a moment his stomach dropped in that cold, involuntary way it did when something went wrong on a case as he considered the possibility that, maybe you did go home with him.

“I’m kidding,” Rossi chuckled. “Relax. She’s by the bar.”

And there you were. Using a stack of napkins to fan yourself, the golden lights catching on your exposed skin, the small specks of glitter scattered across your bare shoulders gracefully. He could still remember the caramel-like scent that came with it, relying on memory alone now, because he no longer had the right to be close enough to smell it again.

The lights shifted, dimming, then bleeding into a soft pink, the kind that made everything—you—look dreamlike. You gasped excitedly, grabbing Penelope’s arm where she stood beside you. She lit up just like you did, and Aaron didn’t even realise he was smiling until you were already pulling her towards the dance floor, placing a hand on the guy’s chest and yelling, “I’ll be back. This is our song!”

He hoped you wouldn’t be back, not to him, anyway. Not really. He hoped you’d stay somewhere close instead, just within reach, orbiting near enough for his eyes to find you and no one else’s.

He was grateful no one around had mind-reading abilities, because if you knew how often he thought about you, you’d probably never speak to him again. Or maybe you would. That was the thing about the two of you, the friendship had held, maybe too well. And maybe that was the problem.

Neither of you could move on. 

“You’re torturing yourself,” Rossi said plainly. 

Aaron didn’t look away. “I know.”

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic @yourallaround-simp @percysley @wowitsafemale @cinnamoncunt @keiminds @iyskgd @mystic-rox @insured-by-the-mafia @mggslover @star-crossed-sephie @tearykth @2dloveshp  @lovelystrawberry @imissaaronhotchner @justyourusualash @alexxavicry @storiesofsvu @ehedrick012110 @khxna

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[goorgeousz]

aaron likes to have his way with you before he leaves for work

drabble

+18 MDNI

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader content/tw: r has trouble sleeping (just me being self-indulgent once again), morning sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, established relationship, mentions of oral sex, lmk if i missed any! a/n: god forbid a girl wants some morning endorphin! enjoy this little thing while i work on a dbf!hotch fic inspired by aaron warner (hell yeah) <3 reqs open, thank you again for 500 followers i love you all 💗🪽 reposting this because i messed it up the first time! masterlist drabble masterlist

You spent your whole life thinking that not having a good sleep schedule wasn’t good for your health.

Being a light sleeper, not getting enough time to rest, waking up earlier than you should… All of that was normal to you. Not a flaw or a lack of skill, but just part of who you are. It usually doesn’t affect your routine, you were so used to it that having less hours asleep than most people didn’t make you less prepared for the day.

Of course, you did find yourself wishing you had it in you. The ability to fall asleep easily. It would be a very welcome trick on those lonely nights you spent at your place while your husband travelled to god knows where to catch psychopaths all around the country. You tried medicines, routines, different rituals and methods. Although some of them helped, nothing really seemed to completely handle the issue.

Nonetheless, you soon found out that your trouble sleeping could come in quite handy. Especially when said husband got back home in the middle of the night, so anxious to get back to you that he couldn’t wait for the flight in the morning. You hear the sounds from downstairs, and by the time he reached the bedroom door you were awake, slowly sitting up with your eyes half opened to find him staring at you with that smile and that gaze of relief that melts you everytime. While you wait for him to shower you quickly prepare him a cup of tea, getting ready to lay on his lap while he drinks the warm drink and wind down from the past days.

But truthfully, the best part was the mornings.

Aaron is a morning person. That was very much clear from the first look you took at him. And with the FBI and his healthy habits, his alarm always sets up at 6 a.m. sharp, almost every day. No snoozes, no safe alarms. One ring and he was up. Three of four if he’s had a specially rough night. It took you a few days sleeping with him for your body to get used to that routine and start to wake up at the same time as him.

After that, it took you another week for your body to wake up before the alarm went off. A few minutes in, the peaceful sounds of his breath against your neck, his arms weighing down on your waist and pulling you flush against his broad chest, sensing you too were awake and making sure you weren’t going to move away until you absolutely had to. More usually than not – especially with him being away as much as he was – the warmth of his body makes its way down to the middle of your thighs, and you have to convince yourself that he’s just casually breathing into your ear and it’s not a form of foreplay.

Your strength doesn’t last, though, and you find yourself all hot and bothered, wiggling your hips slightly until your ass is pressed directly into his crotch, and you feel him getting hard by the touch alone. It takes him little to no time to realize your intentions, and soon he’s gripping your hips and rocking into you over your clothes, humming against your shoulders and lazily kissing your neck.

He bites the shell of your ear, chuckles as you try to press into him harder to get some – anything, please – relief, massaging your breasts and pinching your nipples, grazing your bare thighs with his fingertips in a tough so light you have to look down to see if it’s actually there. And when you’re surrendering, begging, whining, ready to shove your panties down and take matters with your own hands, Hotch clasps your hand to your front, pinning them down with one hand and pulling himself out of his pajamas with the other, using the tip of his cock to tease your ass cheeks, murmuring praises on your ear before pulling your panties and shorts to the side with one swift motion and burying himself into you with one deep thrust.

You pant together for a second, delishing in the feeling of him stretching you this early in the morning, sometimes even before the sunrise.

“We’ll have to be quick, okay, honey?” he asks, his voice hoarse practically melting into your neck, to which you just agree between moans, fucking him back sleeply but eagerly. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise, and when his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing and pressing into it like it’s his job, that’s all it takes for you to collapse, orgasming so strongly it could put you back to sleep in a second. He’s not far behind, the way your body is trembling and your pussy clenching around him makes him follow suit behind you, and his movements become sloppy as he rides out his orgasm, filling you up with his seed.

Usually you have about thirty seconds to breathe before the alarm goes off, and he groans as he leans away to turn it off. He turns back to see you stretching or yawning, and he turns your body to him, chuckling as you smirk at him, pulling him into one last embrace before he gets up.

“I love you, Aaron.” you whisper.

“Yeah, I could tell.” he jokes, and you playfully smack his shoulder, making him laugh and leave a lovingly peck on your lips “I love you too, sweetheart.” And then, he gets up to get dressed and you sit pretty and behave until he leaves, not a minute after schedule – at least that’s what he tells you to do, right before one of you gets on your knees right under the bathroom sink and gives the other a second round.

@zunibugsiren @jazzimac1967 there it is!! i'm sorryyyyy lmao

[goorgeousz]

not exactly a biting fanfic by his biceps were put into good use in this one

can someone PLEASEE write a biting fanfic abt my main man aaron hotchner I need to bite his bicep like an apple

[goorgeousz]

this is what goes through my mind when i wake up earlier than i should🙃

glad you liked it my absolute queen muahhhhhhhhh

aaron likes to have his way with you before he leaves for work

drabble

+18 MDNI

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader content/tw: r has trouble sleeping (just me being self-indulgent once again), morning sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, established relationship, mentions of oral sex, lmk if i missed any! a/n: god forbid a girl wants some morning endorphin! enjoy this little thing while i work on a dbf!hotch fic inspired by aaron warner (hell yeah) <3 reqs open, thank you again for 500 followers i love you all 💗🪽 reposting this because i messed it up the first time! masterlist drabble masterlist

You spent your whole life thinking that not having a good sleep schedule wasn’t good for your health.

Being a light sleeper, not getting enough time to rest, waking up earlier than you should… All of that was normal to you. Not a flaw or a lack of skill, but just part of who you are. It usually doesn’t affect your routine, you were so used to it that having less hours asleep than most people didn’t make you less prepared for the day.

Of course, you did find yourself wishing you had it in you. The ability to fall asleep easily. It would be a very welcome trick on those lonely nights you spent at your place while your husband travelled to god knows where to catch psychopaths all around the country. You tried medicines, routines, different rituals and methods. Although some of them helped, nothing really seemed to completely handle the issue.

Nonetheless, you soon found out that your trouble sleeping could come in quite handy. Especially when said husband got back home in the middle of the night, so anxious to get back to you that he couldn’t wait for the flight in the morning. You hear the sounds from downstairs, and by the time he reached the bedroom door you were awake, slowly sitting up with your eyes half opened to find him staring at you with that smile and that gaze of relief that melts you everytime. While you wait for him to shower you quickly prepare him a cup of tea, getting ready to lay on his lap while he drinks the warm drink and wind down from the past days.

But truthfully, the best part was the mornings.

Aaron is a morning person. That was very much clear from the first look you took at him. And with the FBI and his healthy habits, his alarm always sets up at 6 a.m. sharp, almost every day. No snoozes, no safe alarms. One ring and he was up. Three of four if he’s had a specially rough night. It took you a few days sleeping with him for your body to get used to that routine and start to wake up at the same time as him.

After that, it took you another week for your body to wake up before the alarm went off. A few minutes in, the peaceful sounds of his breath against your neck, his arms weighing down on your waist and pulling you flush against his broad chest, sensing you too were awake and making sure you weren’t going to move away until you absolutely had to. More usually than not – especially with him being away as much as he was – the warmth of his body makes its way down to the middle of your thighs, and you have to convince yourself that he’s just casually breathing into your ear and it’s not a form of foreplay.

Your strength doesn’t last, though, and you find yourself all hot and bothered, wiggling your hips slightly until your ass is pressed directly into his crotch, and you feel him getting hard by the touch alone. It takes him little to no time to realize your intentions, and soon he’s gripping your hips and rocking into you from above your clothes, humming against your shoulders and lazily kissing your neck.

He bites the shell of your ear, chuckles as you try to press into him harder to get some – anything, please – relief, massaging your breasts and pinching your nipples, grazing your bare thighs with his fingertips in a tough so light you have to look down to see if it’s actually there. And when you’re surrendering, begging, whining, ready to shove your panties down and take matters with your own hands, Hotch clasps your hand to your front, pinning them down with one hand and pulling himself out of his pajamas with the other, using the tip of his cock to tease your ass cheeks, murmuring praises on your ear before pulling your panties and shorts to the side with one swift motion and burying himself into you with one deep thrust.

You pant together for a second, delishing in the feeling of him stretching you this early in the morning, sometimes even before the sunrise.

“We’ll have to be quick, okay, honey?” he asks, his voice hoarse practically melting into your neck, to which you just agree between moans, fucking him back sleeply but eagerly. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise, and when his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing and pressing into it like it’s his job it’s all, that’s all it takes for you to collapse, orgasm so strong it could put you back to sleep in a second. He’s not far behind, the way your body is trembling and your pussy clenching around him makes him follow suit behind you, and his movements become sloppy as he rides out his orgasm, filling you up with his seed.

Usually you have about thirty seconds to breathe before the alarm goes off, and he groans as he leans away to turn it off. He turns back to see you stretching or yawning, and he turns your body to him, chuckling as you smirk at him, pulling him into one last embrace before he gets up.

“I love you, Aaron.” you whisper.

“Yeah, I could tell.” he jokes, and you playfully smack his shoulder, making him laugh and leave a lovingly peck on your lips “I love you too, sweetheart.” And then, he gets up to get dressed and you sit pretty and behave until he leaves, not a minute after schedule – at least that’s what he tells you to do, right before one of you gets on your knees right under the bathroom sink and gives the other a second round.

@zunibugsiren @jazzimac1967 there it is!! i'm sorryyyyy lmao

[goorgeousz]

aaron likes to have his way with you before he leaves for work

drabble

+18 MDNI

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader content/tw: r has trouble sleeping (just me being self-indulgent once again), morning sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, established relationship, mentions of oral sex, lmk if i missed any! a/n: god forbid a girl wants some morning endorphin! enjoy this little thing while i work on a dbf!hotch fic inspired by aaron warner (hell yeah) <3 reqs open, thank you again for 500 followers i love you all 💗🪽 reposting this because i messed it up the first time! masterlist drabble masterlist

You spent your whole life thinking that not having a good sleep schedule wasn’t good for your health.

Being a light sleeper, not getting enough time to rest, waking up earlier than you should… All of that was normal to you. Not a flaw or a lack of skill, but just part of who you are. It usually doesn’t affect your routine, you were so used to it that having less hours asleep than most people didn’t make you less prepared for the day.

Of course, you did find yourself wishing you had it in you. The ability to fall asleep easily. It would be a very welcome trick on those lonely nights you spent at your place while your husband travelled to god knows where to catch psychopaths all around the country. You tried medicines, routines, different rituals and methods. Although some of them helped, nothing really seemed to completely handle the issue.

Nonetheless, you soon found out that your trouble sleeping could come in quite handy. Especially when said husband got back home in the middle of the night, so anxious to get back to you that he couldn’t wait for the flight in the morning. You hear the sounds from downstairs, and by the time he reached the bedroom door you were awake, slowly sitting up with your eyes half opened to find him staring at you with that smile and that gaze of relief that melts you everytime. While you wait for him to shower you quickly prepare him a cup of tea, getting ready to lay on his lap while he drinks the warm drink and wind down from the past days.

But truthfully, the best part was the mornings.

Aaron is a morning person. That was very much clear from the first look you took at him. And with the FBI and his healthy habits, his alarm always sets up at 6 a.m. sharp, almost every day. No snoozes, no safe alarms. One ring and he was up. Three of four if he’s had a specially rough night. It took you a few days sleeping with him for your body to get used to that routine and start to wake up at the same time as him.

After that, it took you another week for your body to wake up before the alarm went off. A few minutes in, the peaceful sounds of his breath against your neck, his arms weighing down on your waist and pulling you flush against his broad chest, sensing you too were awake and making sure you weren’t going to move away until you absolutely had to. More usually than not – especially with him being away as much as he was – the warmth of his body makes its way down to the middle of your thighs, and you have to convince yourself that he’s just casually breathing into your ear and it’s not a form of foreplay.

Your strength doesn’t last, though, and you find yourself all hot and bothered, wiggling your hips slightly until your ass is pressed directly into his crotch, and you feel him getting hard by the touch alone. It takes him little to no time to realize your intentions, and soon he’s gripping your hips and rocking into you over your clothes, humming against your shoulders and lazily kissing your neck.

He bites the shell of your ear, chuckles as you try to press into him harder to get some – anything, please – relief, massaging your breasts and pinching your nipples, grazing your bare thighs with his fingertips in a tough so light you have to look down to see if it’s actually there. And when you’re surrendering, begging, whining, ready to shove your panties down and take matters with your own hands, Hotch clasps your hand to your front, pinning them down with one hand and pulling himself out of his pajamas with the other, using the tip of his cock to tease your ass cheeks, murmuring praises on your ear before pulling your panties and shorts to the side with one swift motion and burying himself into you with one deep thrust.

You pant together for a second, delishing in the feeling of him stretching you this early in the morning, sometimes even before the sunrise.

“We’ll have to be quick, okay, honey?” he asks, his voice hoarse practically melting into your neck, to which you just agree between moans, fucking him back sleeply but eagerly. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise, and when his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing and pressing into it like it’s his job, that’s all it takes for you to collapse, orgasming so strongly it could put you back to sleep in a second. He’s not far behind, the way your body is trembling and your pussy clenching around him makes him follow suit behind you, and his movements become sloppy as he rides out his orgasm, filling you up with his seed.

Usually you have about thirty seconds to breathe before the alarm goes off, and he groans as he leans away to turn it off. He turns back to see you stretching or yawning, and he turns your body to him, chuckling as you smirk at him, pulling him into one last embrace before he gets up.

“I love you, Aaron.” you whisper.

“Yeah, I could tell.” he jokes, and you playfully smack his shoulder, making him laugh and leave a lovingly peck on your lips “I love you too, sweetheart.” And then, he gets up to get dressed and you sit pretty and behave until he leaves, not a minute after schedule – at least that’s what he tells you to do, right before one of you gets on your knees right under the bathroom sink and gives the other a second round.

@zunibugsiren @jazzimac1967 there it is!! i'm sorryyyyy lmao

[goorgeousz]

the best side profile

[goorgeousz]

spencer reid in that scene in 2x05

[goorgeousz]

and what if i request part two of this masterpiece because i don’t think i can live without reading more of them???????

BATHROOM BREAK

pairing: derek morgan x reader summary: post-case unwinding usually involves derek on his knees, right?? based on this request. warnings: smut 18+ MDNI, oral (f receiving) derek is a munch. that's literally it. bau’s no.1 pussy eater! word count: 1.3k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Technically, the team was still on call. After wrapping up a case in Jamaica, you weren’t set to leave until the morning, though it would be very unlike you and Derek not to explore the area (code for all the clubs and bars you could squeeze into the next twelve hours) before heading home.

Your relationship with him was hard to put a label on. You weren’t dating, not really, but on more than one occasion, you’d ended up a little too close for what was considered normal between friends and coworkers.

So tonight, you were grateful to not have an audience and to be spared the endless stream of comments from Reid and Emily about how the activity you and Derek both referred to as ‘dancing’ was, according to them, not dancing at all. Emily had once called it ‘straight-up humping,’ and Spencer, in his usual fashion, had described it as a form of foreplay, though he somehow managed to make it sound deeply unsexy with science.

The bass was pounding so hard it felt like it was shaking your whole chest, and the cocktails had done just enough to take the edge off the past four brutal days. You finally felt loose, like you could actually enjoy the balmy night without your brain dragging you back through the profile to scrutinise every single step you took.

Derek’s hands were on your hips, a place they were all too familiar with. It started out as a subtle touch when he was walking past you in a tight space—an accident, something he’d almost thrown his hands off in embarrassment over. But when you barely reacted and brushed it off with a comment about how it was the most contact you’d had, he hadn’t stopped. And so now, when the two of you went out, your hips were his favourite place to rest his warm hands on, and it was quickly becoming your favourite weight to feel.

"You keep dancin’ like that," Derek said, his words tumbling out of a wide grin you could feel without even looking, "you’re gonna have the whole place thinking we didn’t book separate rooms."

You lifted his hands from your hips, just so you could turn around, ass all up in his crotch. “Did we?”

“We did. Doesn’t mean we gotta stay in ‘em.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to stay out here either,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest, looking up at him through your lashes.

His hand slid back to your waist, thumb moving slowly against the fabric of your skirt. “You tryna call it a night already?” 

“Not a night. Just…a change of scenery.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, stepping back and slipping your hand into his, tugging him through the crowd towards where you vaguely recalled the bathrooms were.

Derek let you lead, taking the time to admire the view of your plump thighs, the way they filled out that skirt with every step. And the tan line that marked your skin on the back of your shoulder, still there from when you wore a vest to a crime scene. He had a complicated relationship with religion, but if he ever got the chance, he’d want to meet the God that made you.

He followed with a smirk as you weaved through groups and pairs of people, not bothering to check if there was a queue before you pushed straight into the bathroom, holding the door open for him like this moment was exactly the one you were waiting for. 

As soon as he stepped through the door and clicked the lock in place, you were all over him. Hands snaking around his neck, tugging him to you until the back of your thighs met the counter. He only pulled back to lift you onto it, watching as your skirt rolled up your thighs, your panties on full display just for him.

“I like these,” he said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Red. Fitting.”

“Mm,” you hummed, trailing your finger under his chin to tilt his face back up to yours, “you can take them off too.”

“Oh, I plan to.” His mouth was on yours again, hands on your thighs, thumbs toying with the lace no longer hidden beneath your skirt. The heat was already enough to make you sweat, but the feeling of finally getting what had kept you up several nights in a row had you parched.

“Can you stand for me, baby?”

You nodded and hopped off, his fingers already slipping under the waistband of your underwear, dragging the fabric down. “Been dying to know what you taste like,” he murmured just as you leaned back against the counter on your elbows, watching him drop to his knees, hands trailing up your legs. 

He kissed the inside of your thigh, then again, just shy of where the evidence of how badly you wanted him was glistening in the light. His hands gripped the backs of your legs, pulling you closer as he went. 

“You smell so fucking sweet. Been driving me crazy all week.” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out of you, half-stangled. “It’s probably the sunscreen. I’ve been layering that shit on like it's—oh.” Your voice caught mid-sentence the moment you felt his mouth on you.

One hand scrambled for the counter and the other reached for his shoulder, fingers digging in. You felt his tongue drag through your pussy causing you to curse and twitch into him. And when he began working over your clit your mind went blank, no thoughts filtering in or out…just his tongue. 

And it felt good. So damn good. Nothing like you’d ever felt before. Sure, there were other times you’d found yourself in this situation, but it usually ended with you pushing their mouth away because they didn’t seem to know what they were doing. But Derek Morgan was eating your pussy like he was on death row, and you never wanted it to end.

In fact, there was one thought in your brain—how the hell were you supposed to move on from this? How were you meant to say good morning to that wicked mouth, or watch it wrap around a coffee mug without dying a little inside?

He tapped your thigh, mumbling a rough, “Over my shoulder, baby,” into your soaked heat, and you’d always been very good at following instructions. You lifted one of your legs over, granting him the access he wanted. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. “H-how do you do that?” 

He pulled back briefly, mouth slick. “Do what?”

You whimpered, completely dishevelled. “That. That.”

“This?” he asked before sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Yes—that. Mmhm. Exactly that.”

He hummed against you, the vibration knocking you closer to your orgasm. You clenched around nothing, hips rocking into his mouth just to feel him go deeper. If anyone was waiting outside the door, not even the music would be enough to masquerade the wet, lewd sounds echoing from inside.

Did you care? No. Not even a little. You were too busy holding onto the edge of the counter like it owed you money, one leg still hooked over his shoulder, thinking about all the ways you were going to repay the favour the second you got back to the hotel.

Your mouth fell open, no real words coming out, just a string of moans that got increasingly desperate the closer you got. “Oh my God, Derek.”

And then your thighs were squeezing around his head, all that pent-up tension releasing in seconds. You think you might have blacked out for a moment? Hard to say. You’d probably have to consult the mirror behind you for answers, but your head was too busy lolling back like someone had unplugged you.

Eventually—eventually—he pulled back. You let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, blinking back into consciousness. 

“You good?” he asked, breath a little ragged.

“So incredibly good,” you managed, still half-dazed, just as he gently placed your leg back down. “Now do you want me on my knees here or back at the hotel?”

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[goorgeousz]

after hours au | aaron hotchner

after hours au | aaron hotchner

profiler!reader, fem!reader

a/n: requests open!

masterlist

+18 MDNI

they can be read as standalones and in any order, but this list is in chronological order

★ fluff | ♡ smut | 𐙚 angst

♡ bed chem : you just moved into a new city, finally getting a job promotion. when you visit the bar near your new place to celebrate, you didn’t expect to walk out with company.

★ work boundaries : after sleeping with a random man you met at a bar and later finding out he was your unit chief, you have a very awkward meeting.

★𐙚 luther : during a case you realize hotch knows you more than you imagined.

♡ lacy dreams : hotch had been managing to do just fine in suppressing his desire for you, until he caught a glimpse of your lacy underwear peeking over your jeans.

★ paperwork for two: you help a stubborn aaron with his paperwork.

𐙚 misconduct: after a case, hotch interrogates you about your misconduct.

★ older: the team uses their profile skills combined to figure out why you’re not interested in the cute agent just downstairs. you hate it. Hotch loves it.

♡ soaked: your window gets stuck and hotch decides to help you. but it’s too hot to wear proper clothes, and he nearly loses his mind.

★ 𐙚 intervention: you happen to be in the worst mood ever and the team stages an intervention (one-man intervention. the one man being hotch).

[goorgeousz]

misconduct | aaron hotchner

after hours au

misconduct | aaron hotchner

after hours au

pairing: aaron hotchner x profiler!female!reader

summary: after a case, hotch interrogates you about your misconduct.

content/tw: mention of blood and wounds (not too descriptive, but a little), death (of the unsub); angsty

word count: 1.9k

a/n: hope you enjoy this one, I never wrote something so fast! the idea came to me in a shower. I tried not to focus too much on the case itself but more on the relationship boss x employee. Oh yeah, it’s not all fun and giggles (just mostly). hope you enjoy it <3

after hours masterlist

main masterlist

The red and blue police lights were a nice contrast with the dark sky. There were so many cars, so many lights, so many sounds, so many people. If you squint your eyes just enough it would almost seem like you were at a party. Without the music and with the blood, of course. And without the medical team on either side of you making sure you weren’t concussed.

Someone, someday, warned you about disassociation. How it could be a way for your mind to cope with intense pain, both physical and emotional, by temporarily detaching itself from the experience. Was it Spencer? Probably. Or maybe Morgan. Perhaps both? Yes, that was it. You didn’t believe it when Derek told you about it, but then Spencer intervened with some scientific facts that eventually ended up selling it to you (which ended up with a whiny Derek complaining about how some skinny ass brainy kid had more credibility than him).

The subject didn’t come to your mind again until now. When you desperately needed that skill. Maybe you were right at not believing them at the first place, because you swear you were feeling every little fucking molecule of alcohol that the nurse used to clean the wound just above your eyebrow.

“All done!” he said in a sing-song voice, and you almost cut yourself again, but this time on your lips by biting it so hard to keep it from mouthing a ‘fuck you’ at the poor guy.

As if it knew you were being watched, your eyes roamed to the other side of the road, where you spotted a very much collected Aaron Hotchner walking your way.

You knew you were screwed, but maybe you could ‘FBI’ your way out of it. So you straighten your posture, holding on for dear life the edge of the back of the ambulance (You refused to lie down on the stretcher, it would be too dramatic – even for you) and waited.

Hotch looked at you briefly, scanning you up and down as if to check if you were okay. He then turned to the paramedic by your side “Is she steady?”

“Yes. No signs of concussion,” the doctor started, and both of them stared at you like you were their object of study, worsening by the way he pointed at your wounds while he explained about them. “No apparent fractures, but it’s better to get her checked out. The cut just above the waist earned her five stitches, it wasn’t too deep to actually harm her organs but the healing will be a bit of a pain. We cleaned the cut on her eyebrow, it wasn’t enough for stitches but it hasn’t stopped bleeding yet. We gave her pills for the pain so it’s better now, but it might start hurting in a few hours.”

Hotch analysed you once again, leaving the doctor unanswered for a second too long before glancing back up at him “Thank you.” he nodded, in that way authoritative figures did when they wanted to dismiss someone. Without a beat the paramedic turned around and left, leaving you alone with Hotch.

You would be impressed if you weren’t so worried about keeping your facade.

“How are you doing?” he asked, folding his arms against his chest.

“I’m better. Thank you.” you nodded, trying to mimic his gesture and dismiss him. Hotch didn’t move a single muscle. 

Worth a shot.

“Can you answer a few questions?” “Uh. Yes?” “Are you asking me?” you stutter at that“Oh, no. Yes, I can.” 

That’s when it happens. It’s barely there. It’s not even noticeable for untrained eyes. But you could definitely see it. As soon as he made sure you were safe and well, his worried and professional eyes turned into a thunderstorm. Without even moving his posture or saying anything, you felt the energy shifting by the anger on his gaze. You gulped, making sure to hold your chin a little higher to prove you were less intimidated than you actually were (too much).

“What happened there?”

You blinked. It was a trap. “You saw it. You were there.”

“Walk me through it.” not a request, a command. You chewed on your bottom lip.

“We got in the house, it was empty. We split up, I went downstairs, the unsub was there. You found us, we tried to negotiate. She got the upper hand and I lost my gun. Morgan shot her. We’re here.”

He sighed loudly.

“You called me, she had a needle in her hands. She threatened to kill herself, just like we profiled her to do. We tried to negotiate with her, we dropped our guns. You stepped closer, she dropped the needle and you two fought. She took you down, grabbed your gun and used you as a hostage. Morgan found an opportunity and shot her.”

“I don’t get the need to debrief that now.” you asked, tightening the ambulance’s blanket around your shoulders.

“I’m just trying to understand. How did she take you down?” he saw right through you, probably knew it all along.

“She was in good shape. I tripped, I guess. Everything happened too fast.”

His eyes seemed to fire up even harder at your explanation “In the months you’ve been on this team I’ve seen you fight and win men twice your weight on an almost weekly basis. Last case you put one of the unsubs on a headlock. With your legs. And you’re looking me in the eye and telling me you couldn’t fight a woman your age and size?”

You took a deep breath feeling your heart rate increased at a probably dangerous level.

“Hotch, I don’t know what you want me to say. She overpowered me, it happens.”

“Agent, don’t fool yourself, I’m not letting you go until you tell me the truth. I’m giving you another chance. How did she manage to take you down?”

“I tripped, I guess.”

“Wrong. I saw it, you hesitated. Why?”

“I was trying to find the best way to move the fight away from the needle on the floor.”

He didn’t miss a beat “Then how did she get your gun?”

“She hit me on my rib. That’s where the cut came from. That’s how she knocked me over.” you explained, not daring to break the intense gaze you had on each other.

“Why did she use you as a hostage?”

“Because… Almost every unsub does this, you know it. I just happen to be the one she got her hands into.”

“Let me be clearer. Why did you let her?”

Finally, the million dollar question. It was easier to stroll him if he wasn’t being so direct. But now, there was no escape. You couldn’t come up with a lie. Every answer you gave him was true, but you let out the fact that all of that happened because you let her. You let the unsub take the advantage and use you as a hostage. You wanted to shield her from the team, but you knew from the profile that if you stepped closer, she would kill herself. You couldn’t let her.

“Are you seriously insinuating I willingly put my life in danger? Unlike you I can’t control everything…”

“Careful.” he reprimanded through gritted teeth.

“...Neither do I want to.” you didn’t stop. “Things like this happen at our job, you know this more than anyone. I really don’t get why this is a big deal, I made it out alive.”

“Barely.” he muttered.

“Hotch, please, stop.” you whined, rubbing your hand through your face wincing at the blood accumulating on your eyebrow.

“No. I won’t stop.” he spoke up, stepping closer and not letting you speak “You let your feelings get in the way, you jeopardized the mission. You put your life and the others at risk. So you either give me a plausible explanation for what the hell happened in there, or I’ll let you leave all the explaining to the directors.”

“It’s not fair.” you muttered, giving up. He quieted down, his eyes seeming more calm and attentive, encouraging you to keep going. So you did. “When Garcia sent us her information to see if she matched the profile, do you know what I noticed?” you smiled bitterly “She was born on the same day as me. And guess what? At the very same hospital. Our paths crossed twice, one at the beginning of her life and the other at the end. I grew up in a loving home, and had every opportunity anyone could dream of. She was the opposite in every possible way. I just got caught up with all the ‘if’s and the ‘could’s. I know it doesn’t justify anything, but she went through a lot. She was taking matters to her own hands. No one saved her as a baby, neither as a kid, and especially as a teenager. She was going to kill herself, Hotch. I couldn’t let her die. I know this probably makes me immature, and maybe even unprepared for the job, but if I could go back in time, I would’ve done it all again. It’s not fair.”

Hotch sighed, the heat in his eyes completely gone now. His expression softened, and it was like he was looking at you under a whole new light. The two of you stayed in silence for a while.

“It really isn’t.” he spoke again, quietly “It’s also not fair that you now have five stitches on your ribs. And a cut on your forehead that’s almost bleeding you into blindness.” he pointed, stepping closer to you and giving you a few gauze pads from the ambulance to clean you up. You took them in silence. Your breath hitched when his fingers softly grazed on the side of your neck, just below your jaw. As soon as the touch came, it was gone. So fast it was almost like it never happened, just a product of your fertile imagination. “Do you know you have a bruise right here? From how tight she held the gun against your throat? None of this is fair.”

You gulped, the weight of what happened finally getting to you “It will heal.”

“You could’ve died.” he spoke in a painful tone. His posture remained as professional as ever, but again, his eyes gave him away. It took you only one look to see the fear in them, so intense and powerful you wanted to grab his hand and press it against your chest so he could feel your heartbeat. You wanted to take all the fear away from him with your bare hands.

But truth to be told, there was nothing you could do. You were as scared as he was, if not more. He was right, after all. The profile was clear: the unsub wouldn’t hand herself in. It would probably end in suicide or suicide by cop. The moment she held that gun against you, you knew it was over. If Morgan didn’t manage to get the shot, you would be long gone by now.

It terrified you more than you thought it would.

Again, you stayed together in silence, breathing each other’s presence.

You heard the captain of the precinct calling for Hotch, and before he answered, he turned to you.

“Take the rest of the week off. I don’t expect to see you until Monday.” he stated, his expression much softer.

“Thank you.”

And you listened to him.

When you got back on monday, your report was filled and signed by SSA Aaron Hotchner.

For all they know, you tripped.

[goorgeousz]

Hi. Can you please write a story where Spencer Reid is an unsub.? And he doesn't get caught, but he tells himself after a couple of years, like 20? Where is Reid the most wanted criminal? But no one knows when Reid is that Criminal.? He terrorizes everyone. And kills a lot of people? In all kinds of ways, but no one knows he's an Unsub?

accessory to murder | spencer reid

accessory to murder | spencer reid

pairing: unsub!spencer reid x female!reader

summary: someone kills your abusive ex and the bau comes to interrogate you. little did they know they were hunting one of their own.

content/tw: domestic violence (r and ex), mentions of shooting (not graphic), unsub!reid, hospital setting

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i don’t know if that’s what you had in mind, i couldn’t fit the 20 years in it, but in this context spencer doesn’t get caught! I hope you enjoy it, i’m sorry if it’s not too elaborated, that’s all i could come up with!! anyways, thank you for your request, it was definitely out of my comfort zone and i liked it!! my requests and dms are open <3

masterlist

dividers by @cursed-carmine

People always talk about that moment after a tragedy, when you first wake up and your brain hasn't fully woken up  yet, and for the first seconds of the morning you’re peaceful. That 10 seconds-long bliss is the only thing keeping you sane, because as soon as the fogness of your brain wears itself off, the memories come crashing down on you like a tsunami. And you spend the rest of your life trying to chase that little moment, clinging into it for dear life, until the state of consciousness stops feeling like drowning in plain air.

So, the first 10 seconds you wake up that morning feel like a dream. Your body is stiff from sleeping on your back for hours, the lights being too bright for you to keep your lights open, so you blink a few times for your retinas to get used to it. 

Until you blink many times and it's still not enough, so you slowly open your eyes to realize that the lights are indeed too strong, the white ceiling (that’s certainly not your room) reflecting the already too bright led lights. Then you hear beeping sounds just on your left, and that obnoxious smell of alcohol, plastic and metal that you hate so much fill your senses, and that’s when you realize you’re in a hospital.

And just like that, bliss is over: you’re awake.

Luckily, you don’t stay too long watching replaying those memories on your head, because your room was immediately surrounded by nurses and doctors, testing your vitals and asking questions you weren’t even ready to answer.

As soon as the exams were done and it turned out you were completely fine (very inaccurately, by the way), the head doctor responsible for you warned that the FBI was there, asking if you were ready to talk. Since you had nothing to do but to mourn the past events, you told him yes.

The room was empty for less than 10 seconds, because right then you heard a knock and then three agents walked in. Two women, and a man. You examined their faces as the beautiful blonde introduced them.

“Hi, we’re with the B.A.U. You can call me JJ,” she pointed to the brunette behind her “This is SSA Emily Prentiss and he’s is Doctor…”

Your eyes followed her fingers, widening at the size of the man you’ve been crushing for the past months. He’s a customer at the library you work at, and you bonded by your mutual interest in mythology. You were aware he worked at the FBI, since he always stopped by at ungodly hours, sat on one of the empty tables (usually all of them), ordered two coffees (one for you, always) and told you all the interesting details of his last case.

“Spencer!” you interrupted, relief falling over you from seeing one familiar face.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked, his big brown eyes scanning you. You hated that you didn’t know how you looked, hoping it wasn’t too messed up.

“I’ve been better.” you managed, your voice still hoarse from sleep.

“Do you remember you got here?”

You pressed your lips together “Not really. I’m sorry.”

Spencer gave you a weak smile, his cheeks blushed “I found you. The lights were still on so I thought you were there. That’s when I found you.” his face had an apology all over it “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” 

Not being ready to face the emotional repercussions of what just happened, you chose to ignore the last bit. “You came to visit me?”

Somehow he got even shyer, nodding towards the table close to the widow. That’s when you first saw it: a water glass with a bouquet full of lilies and baby breaths, wrapped in what seemed to be a journal. It was roughly done, wrapped with a shoelace, with crossword puzzles all over the paper. You realized he did it for you.

“Perfect timing, right?” he joked, his tone as self-deprecating as his expression.

“Spencer…” you cooed, your heart aching on your chest. It was all you ever wanted, but now that pretty dream of yours turned into a nightmare.

“We’re here to ask a few questions, if you don’t mind.” JJ chimed in, seemingly embarrassed to ruin the moment but also wanting to get this over with “It will be quick, anything you say will be helpful.” she promised, apologetic.

You nodded, sitting up properly. Emily and JJ started asking you about last night: what you were doing there, time wise, what your ex was doing there, did you fight often, if you remembered hearing anything or noticing something weird. There wasn’t much you could do, but you answered all of the questions to the best of your ability. Spencer stayed there, explaining the procedure and the nature of the questions, calming you down immediately. His presence was comforting, it took the darkness of it all (if that was even possible).

“That was very helpful.” Emily thanked, smiling warmly at you “Do you mind doing a cognitive? Sometimes your subconscious picks up on more than you realize, and every little detail can help us build the profile to catch who did this to you.”

Spencer chimed in, explaining how it was done and the reasoning behind it, calming your nerves. You thanked him with a nod, agreeing to help.

You closed your eyes.

“Okay, walk us through that night. The last customer left, what time was it?” you heard JJ’s calming voice. You rested your head back on the pillow and sighed, rewatching the scene unfolding in your mind.

“It was almost nine. I remember looking at the clock and thinking I had fifteen minutes to waste before my snack time. I always have a snack at nine. The library was empty, so I picked up my phone to see if there were any texts.” you start to shake a little, remembering how it all happened “And then there were over thirty texts from him, from my ex. I started to read them, but halfway through it he barged in.”

“You saw him walking in? Was he alone?” JJ asked.

“No. I didn’t see him, you can’t see the front door from the cashier, I was there. I heard the bell ringing, and his footsteps. And he started yelling. I didn’t hear anyone else. He found me and started yelling.”

“Do you remember what he was yelling about?” you frowned.

“He started accusing me of being with someone else. He tried to grab my phone from me, I tucked it into the vault under the counter before he could reach it. I explained that I was alone, I was working. We had a fight because he always tried to control me, like we’re still together. But we’re not. For over a year now.” you explain, your voice raising.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, you’re safe now. I’m right here. We’re right here. Me, Agent Prentiss, Doct… Spencer.” her voice coached you, and your breathing slowly returned to normal.

“How long did it go on?” Emily asked when you assured you were ready to keep going.

“I don’t know. Probably an hour, or more. I managed to calm him down, but then when I told him there wasn’t going back, he freaked out.”

“Wait. What wasn’t going back?” JJ asked.

“Us. Me and him. He insists that we get back together, and everytime I’m not in a screaming match with him he thinks I’m giving up and we’re back together.”

“Okay, now we need you to walk us through what happened when he got shot. Can you do that?” you gulped at Emily’s words.

“Y-yeah. I think I can.”

“Perfect. Remember, we’re here. Where were you then?”

“We were close to a shelf. We were sitting on one of the tables, the one closer to the counter. He stood up and started throwing things around. Books, chairs, whatever he could reach. I tried to stop him. I know better than to get physical with him, but he did that before and it cost me my two last jobs. I couldn’t let it happen to him either, so I just grabbed him. We started to shove each other, until he shoved me so hard that I stumbled on the chair. I didn’t fall, but it hurt.”

“So those bruises on your shoulders, arms and lower back are from him? Your ex?” JJ asked, her voice showing confused.

“Yes. At least for what I can remember. Then he advanced towards me again, but before he could do anything… he got shot. Straight to the heart.”

“Wait, can we go back for a second? Did you hear or see anything weird before the shot? He was walking towards you, but did you notice the pattern? Maybe a light switching off or on, a sound…”

“Yes. He was angry, his face was red. But then he saw something, it was behind me I think. He looked annoyed, and then scared. It was too fast, I barely noticed the change. I was too focused on stepping back, I only realized he wasn’t looking at me because he stopped on his track.”

“The look on his face…”

You started shaking your head, tears falling down your closed eyes. You didn’t want to remember it, his expression. Bare, naked fear. Red eyes widened, it was a fraction of a second, but you saw it. Everything happened so fast.

“Did you see the look on his face? This is very important. Do you think he recognized the person who shot him?” JJ kept going, her voice urgent. Your body was shaking completely.

“No, he didn’t. It didn’t look like it.”

“Okay, we’re almost there. You’re doing great.” Spencer acknowledged it, his voice soothing your nerves. You breathed deeply between cries, trying to steady yourself.

“After he was shot, do you remember anything?” Emily tried, her voice close to you.

“No, I… I watched him fall, the blood… Everywhere. I felt it splashing on me. I stumbled back, I couldn’t see anything. So many tears.” and it clicked to you right then.

The memories came rushing to your mind, it was too fast. You didn’t see anything, you only listened to your own sobbings, and footsteps behind you. You didn’t register them at first, but then you felt it.

The smell. The scent. That one perfume you know so well. Its strong scent, woody and spicy. You recognized it – him – from his scent alone. You didn’t even need to see him. The bell rang, that perfume filled your nostrils and without a beat, four seconds later, he was there, greeting you with a warm smile and a shy wave.

Your eyes shot open, wide, you stared at your hands.

“What? Did you remember something?” JJ insisted.

“No, no. I couldn’t see, and immediately after I couldn’t breathe. It smelled sweet, I tried to fight it but I couldn’t. I can’t…”

“Okay, that’s perfect. You did great.”

“Yes, thank you!” JJ added, both girls with sorrow smiles on their faces “Now get some rest, okay? Spence, we’ll wait for you outside.”

“Thanks.” he said, nodding. Emily and JJ walked out of the room, not before squeezing your hand in empathy.

Even after they left, you didn’t tear your gaze away from your blanket. You felt his eyes on you, Spencer was on your right, a little further back on the room. He had his arms crossed by his chest, his lean torso leaning against the widows. His gaze pierced you, and you wanted to look at him. To see his expression. Did he realize you recognized him? Did he realize you lied? Why did you, in the first place?

You were still trying to wrap your head around it when he moved. He walked closer, his steps deliberated and slow. You should’ve yelled, should’ve called someone. Should’ve pressed that damn red button on your left. But you didn’t. 

Instead you closed your eyes and let the addictive scene of his perfume invade your nostrils, the very same one you smelled last night before you passed out on his arms. You should’ve told them: you know he did it. Even if you didn’t feel it, his perfume. He touched you with care, with passion. He held your waist, only applying enough pressure to keep you from moving away from his grip, holding the handkerchief against your mouth and nose. He cared, you could feel it. You could feel it those past few months, you could feel it last night, you could feel it now.

Spencer stopped right on your side, closer to you than he had been since he got there. He leaned in, you could feel his presence close to you.

You thought he would finish the job right there, maybe a gun, maybe your pillow, maybe another drug. He was smart, he could pull something off. You also thought he would explain himself, deny it all or even ask you to lie for him.

Although in all honesty, he didn’t have to. Because you did it all by yourself. You willingly become an accessory to murder, and there wasn’t turning back. Of course, you could explain it. You could call the cops — hell, you could call the FBI — and say that you didn’t want to say anything because he made you nervous. You would get yourself out of this mess. But you wouldn’t. Deep down you knew, you made your decision. You chose your side.

And he knew it too, because before he left the room with an evil smirk and his hands in his pockets, he whispered only one thing to you — as if you weren’t completely alone in a room with a killer — kissing your forehead afterwards like it was nothing.

“Good girl.”