Warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut, established relationship, jealousy, PIV, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), semi-public sex, fingering, possessive Hotch, mild choking, light dominance. 1 singular (L/N)
Summary: A detective from another department takes an interest in you, and Hotch’s control starts to slip. He insists he’s not jealous, but everyone can tell.
A/N: Jealous Hotch does something to me. Okay?!
The new detective from Organized Crime sauntered into the BAU bullpen like he owned the place, all easy charisma and a smile that could charm the stripes off a zebra without making an effort.
Detective Lawson was tall, broad-shouldered, with a voice like aged whiskey: smooth, warm, and just a little on the dangerous side.
He’d been loaned to the team for a joint case involving overlapping serial patterns, and his temporary desk was shoved right up against yours. Much to Hotch's dismay
You felt Hotch’s eyes on you before you even looked up.
From his perch in the doorway of his office, Hotch stood motionless, arms crossed, his dark gaze locked on the newcomer like a predator sizing up an intruder, or his next prey.
You and Hotch had been together for months now. The team knew, of course; they’d pieced it together, before you even officially announced it, from the lingering looks and the way he’d started bringing you coffee exactly how you liked it.
But you kept it professional in the office. Mostly.
Lawson leaned over your desk, pointing at a file on your screen. “See this cluster here? That’s your unsub’s comfort zone. Cross-reference it with the port manifests I pulled, and boom! Pattern city.” His fingers brushed yours as he zoomed in, lingering just a second too long.
You smiled politely. “Good catch. Let’s run it.”
Across the room, Hotch’s jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard it crack.
“Agent Hotchner,” Lawson called out, flashing that megawatt grin. “Heard you’re the best in the Bureau. Must be a hell of a leader to keep this team so tight.”
Hotch didn’t move. “We get the job done.” His voice was like a blade, sharp, yet controlled, but with an edge that was ready to slice through the air.
Lawson chuckled, undeterred, turning back to you. “You know, you’ve got a real eye for this. Ever think about jumping ship to OCD? We could use someone like you.” He winked, leaning in closer. “Coffee later? My treat. We can brainstorm over lattes.”
Your cheeks heated, but before you could respond, Hotch was there, materializing out of nothing, his presence sucking the oxygen from the air around your desks.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said, his tone lethally calm. “Agent L/N’s schedule is full. We’ll review the manifests here.”
Lawson straightened, blinking in surprise. “Just offering to—”
“Now,” Hotch cut in, his eyes flicking to you with a possessiveness that made your stomach flip.
The bullpen went silent. Morgan whistled low under his breath from his desk. “Damn, boss. You gonna mark your territory next?”
Prentiss smirked into her coffee. Garcia’s voice piped up from next to Morgan's desk, barely loud enough for anyone but Morgan to hear. “Oh, honey, the jealousy levels are off the charts. I’m getting secondhand heatstroke.”
You shot them all a warning glare, but your pulse was racing. Hotch wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at you, eyes burning with raw possession.
He'd insisted he didn't get jealous when you’d teased him about it once, in the privacy of his apartment. "I don’t get jealous," he’d said, voice rough against your neck. "I get protective." But this? This was definitely jealousy incarnate, coiled tight in every muscle of his body.
The morning dragged on like slow torture. Lawson kept finding excuses to hover, asking your opinion on evidence, “accidentally” brushing your arm, cracking jokes that made you laugh despite yourself. And every single time, Hotch’s control frayed a little more. His responses grew shorter, his stares longer. He snapped at Reid for a minor profiling inconsistency and barked orders at Morgan over nothing.
By mid-afternoon, the tension was palpable, thick as fog.
You caught him in the hallway later, cornering you against the wall with one hand braced beside your head. “He’s too familiar with you,” Hotch growled, voice low enough that only you could hear. His free hand flexed at his side, like he was fighting the urge to touch you. “Tell him to back off.”
“I’m being professional,” you whispered, heart pounding. “You’re the one acting like a caveman. Stop being jealous, Aaron.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not jealous,” he said through slightly gritted teeth.
The breaking point came just after the afternoon briefing. The team was scattered: Morgan and Prentiss out in the field, following up on a lead, Reid buried in maps. You were alone at your desk, head down in a report, when Lawson appeared again, leaning over the partition with that infuriating grin. “Quick question on the timeline—” His hand settled on the back of your chair, thumb grazing your shoulder.
You opened your mouth to answer...
But a strong hand clamped around your upper arm.
Before you could react, Hotch yanked you out of your chair and down the shadowed hallway, his grip firm around your bicep but not bruising, his stride was fast, nearly forcing you to run to keep up with him.
You stumbled after him, heart slamming against your ribs, confusion and heat flooding your veins. He didn’t speak. Didn’t look back. Just pulled you past the bullpen windows, where a few heads turned but quickly looked away, and straight into the utility closet tucked away in a nearly deserted corridor of the building.
The door shut with a soft, decisive click. The lock quickly flipped.
The space was cramped, shelves pressing in around you, the hum of the building’s AC, and your shared breaths the only sounds.
Hotch spun you, pressing your back to the door, his body caging yours. One hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your hip as he crushed his mouth to yours in a kiss that was pure, unfiltered possession.
Teeth, tongue, desperation.
“You think I didn’t see him touching you?” he rasped against your lips, voice rough with barely leashed fury. “Laughing at his jokes? Letting him flirt like I don’t exist... like you’re not already mine?”
“Aaron—”
“No.” He spun you around, pressing your front to the door, his chest flush against your back. His breath scorched your neck as he yanked your pants and underwear down in one swift and impatient motion, just enough to bare you. It made you gasp. “You’re mine. Say it.”
“Yours,” you breathed, arching back into him, the suddenness of it all making your head spin. You loved this, him unraveling, taking without warning, claiming you in the middle of the damn day.
His fingers slid through your wetness with a dark, satisfied growl. “Already soaked. You love this, don’t you? Love knowing I can’t wait, can’t stand another second of him near you.” He plunged two fingers inside you, curling hard, pumping fast to wind you tight.
His thumb worked your clit in merciless circles, his free hand splayed across your stomach to pin you in place against his chest.
You moaned, biting your lip to muffle it, palms flat against the door. Voices drifted by; it almost sounded like Reid theorizing. “Hotch... someone might—”
“Quiet,” he snarled, biting your shoulder through your shirt. “Or they'll hear exactly who you belong to.” His fingers twisted, scissoring, building you up until your legs shook. “Cum on my fingers. Now. Show me who owns this.”
The orgasm crashed through you, sharp and blinding, your cry stifled against your forearm as you clenched around him. But he didn’t stop. Belt buckle, zipper, and then he was inside you. With one deep thrust, he stole your breath, filling you completely in just one smooth stroke..
“Mine,” he growled with every punishing stroke, one hand on your hip, the other sliding up to wrap loosely around your throat, just enough pressure to anchor you. “No one else. Not him. Not ever.”
You pushed back, meeting him thrust for thrust, the risk of discovery only making it hotter. “Yes! God, Aaron... harder!”
He gave it to you, relentlessly and feral. “You love making me lose control,” he rasped. “Love knowing I’ll take you anywhere, anytime I want, because you’re mine.”
“Every second,” you gasped, another climax coiling tighter and faster than the one before.
He came with a low, guttural groan, burying himself deep, his grip tightening as he pulsed inside you. For a moment, you stayed locked together, panting and trembling, before he slowly pulled out, helping you fix your clothes by tugging fabric back into place, smoothing the parts of your hair that had gotten messy.
You turned, leaning against the door, and met his dark, stormy eyes with a sly, breathless smile.
“You know,” you murmured, voice husky, “I think I need to make you jealous more often, especially when I’m not expecting it.”
Hotch’s gaze flared, but a reluctant smirk curved his lips as he stole one last, searing kiss. “Careful what you wish for. Or you'll be walking around with my cum dripping out of you more times than not.”
hi!?! could you please write slowburn with hotch.. like working at the bau and being a little oblivious and udhhd until it eventually resolves with smut?? I lack fics without previously established relationship
you're the risk i'm gonna take it
pairing: aaron hotchner x reader, background michael robinavitch x reader
summary: request above
word count: 3.7k
tags: jealous!hotch, possessive!hotch, angst, hotch is lowk toxic but it works out for him, reader is oblivious but also kind of dumb, the pitt mention (helloo hyperfixation) dr robby is down bad, not proofread.
author's note: thank you for this request angel! i hope you like this and ty for being so patient xx
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── ·
The first time you meet Aaron Hotchner, you’re ready to hightail it out of the room. Your transfer to the Behavioural Analysis Unit was something done out of necessity—you’d spent a long time in private practice before deciding to branch out and were lucky enough to score an opening with the FBI.
Hotchner was…a lot. Of what? You weren’t entirely sure. You’d been made aware he had a reputation for being a hardass and somehow also one of the best team leaders in the FBI.
He was calm, confident and at times abrasive, but you wouldn’t have gotten to this point if you were unable to work under pressure. He had been strict and clear in his expectations of your role on the team; you were new and had to fight to prove yourself.
“I look forward to working with you Agent.” He had remarked, barely looking up from his pile of papers as he dismissed you from the meeting. If you were any less professional, you would have scoffed but all you did was offer a tight smile and nod.
“I do too, have a good day further Agent Hotchner.”
And that was that.
˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆
The BAU was a learn as you go workplace and you quickly figured out it was also a seemingly do as I say, not as I do environment. If you had a dollar for every time you witnessed one of your coworkers pull some kind of self-sacrificing bullshit—you’re fairly sure you’d never have to work ever again.
You would be lying if you said it didn’t bring some sort of spark back into your life, despite the dead bodies and sadistic murderers—you had found that missing puzzle piece.
The team sat on the plane back from one of their most recent cases, half-asleep on the red eye whilst you had your laptop out, typing away at your report so you’d be able to sleep as soon as you got back.
“You should sleep.” Hotch’s voice startles you despite being barely above a soft murmur. He’s watching you over a case file whilst sitting across from you.
You snort, “Yeah, no chance.”
Hotch frowns, “You having a hard time sleeping?” His tone is concerned and it brings a stiffness to your shoulders. You shouldn’t have said that. You’re completely capable of doing your job and it’s not like you’re the only one on this plane who has a hard time closing their eyes at night and not picturing every other gruesome thing they’ve encountered.
“No,” you smile tightly, shuffling your laptop closer to you as you squint at the screen. “I’m fine.”
Hotch stares at you for a second, as if he’s deciding whether or not to call you out on the blatant lie but instead heaves a sigh, slumping into his own seat.
“You shouldn’t squint like that—it will hurt your eyes.” He reprimands lightly and this time you can’t help the amused raise of your brow as you meet his dark gaze.
“God, you’re old.” You snort, immediately trying to muffle your laugh when his expression turns perplexed.
“Old?” he mutters in disbelief.
“Sorry,” you giggle, slapping a hand over your mouth as you watch him shake his head in fond amusement.
“You’re trouble for a man’s ego.” He points at you with a wry smile on his face as you flush.
You shrug, “Gotta keep em’ humble.”
Hotch flashes his teeth as he grins softly. Silence grows between the two of you as you continue to work on your own respective tasks.
As you continue to write your report, nibbling on your bottom lip you are seemingly unaware of the soft looks Hotch sends you in between his own reading.
˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆
Your relationship with Hotch is complicated. There are times where you’ll catch him staring at you from his office, small smile on his face or there’s times where he inconspicuously accommodates you more than he would someone else.
He’s just being nice is what you tell yourself, because any other option would be ludicrous to even consider. Though there are moments that make you start to question whether those options might be reality.
You’re on a case in Pittsburgh, somewhere near the hospital you used to work at before transferring to the BAU and it’s just your luck that one of your key witnesses is currently being held in the ED.
You’re more than happy to accompany Hotch to the ED to try and get something useful out of the guy and you really struggle at schooling your expression of excitement at seeing any of your past colleagues.
It doesn’t slip passed Hotch’s notice who quirks a curious brow at you from the driver’s seat, “You’re quite eager to be meeting a witness.” He remarks dryly but there’s no hiding the humor in his expression.
You grow shy, nibbling on your bottom lip and drawing his attention to your action. “I used to work in the psychology department at PTMC.” You admit softly, wringing your hands in front of you.
Hotch hums interestedly, it’s not often in their line of work that agents are transferred into the FBI from outside of the academy. He’s willing to take any chance to know the parts of you he’s been yet to discover and visiting your work is what brings him hope that this might just be the thing that pushes you both closer together.
You haven’t been outwardly dismissive of his advancements, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t killing him inside that you weren’t as forthcoming. Sure, it had been a while since he’d had to whip out his flirting tactics—his first and last relationship being well his late wife.
But you were so enigmatic that he just couldn’t help but want to be near you, he’d been making every effort to impress. Well, at least he thought he had, if your blatant obliviousness to his affection wasn’t sign enough.
Hotch had found himself gritting his teeth one too many times after he’d been blatantly flirting with you only for you to respond in your sweetest smile yet most professional tone.
He knew it wasn’t right, that he had no business crushing on his subordinate but Lord help him if you weren’t the only woman who had made him feel things he didn’t think himself capable of.
When Hotch parks the car, you practically launch yourself out of the vehicle to speedwalk your way into the entrance. You’re fast enough that Hotch has to jog a little to catch up to you with a breathy chuckle before matching your strides.
“So, you can run in those heels,” he teases softly, his arm coming back to rest on the curve of your back to guide you to the entrance.
You lift your hand to swat at his chest half-heartedly with a playful scowl that diminishes the moment you step into the bustling ER, the both of you adopting your composed manner of professionalism despite your simultaneous twitching lips.
˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆
You’re met by a blonde nurse whose smile is as wide as can be when she catches sight of you, her southern drawl echoing as she crosses the room, “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes sunshine? Who knew we’d be seeing your face again!” she remarks happily, wrapping her arms around you in a motherly hug.
“Dana, I missed you.” You say softly, hugging her back before throwing a sheepish expression to Hotch who shrugs.
“And who’s this with you?” Dana sizes up Hotch, staring him down something fierce and he feels himself paling a little.
“Uh—” you chuckle nervously. “This is Agent Hotchner, he’s um—he’s my boss.” You say.
Dana turns to you, quirking a brow that makes you roll your eyes fondly. “We’re here on a case, Pittsburgh PD should have called ahead, we’re here to interview a James Harlow? He was in—”
“MVA, Yeah Robby’s got him down in South 12, you remember where that is don’t you? He’s gonna be real excited to see you.” Dana drawls teasingly.
Hotch expects you to laugh and wave off the statement, but he’s surprised to see you fluster, your shoulders hiking up towards your ears as you shove Dana softly.
“Stop,” you chastise her through a whine and Hotch feels like a rock had lodged itself in between his heart and ribcage. Who the hell is this guy?
He has no right to be jealous, the two of you aren’t…anything. You’re both colleagues, he’s your superior but Hotch feels his gut clenching and palms sweating all the same.
He coughs, clearing his throat which draws your attention back to him. You have the decency to look embarrassed but without further mention of it you say a hasty goodbye to an amused Dana who looks like she’s sizing him up and drag the both of you to what he assumes is South 12.
˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆
When the curtain is drawn away, you both are met with the sight of your witness and what Hotch assumes is “Robby” explaining his blood test results to.
“Uh,” your witness mutters awkwardly, gaze switching between yourself and the man behind you. You suppose you must look quite intimidating in your formal wear and FBI badged plastered to your lapels, but you school your expression into something that you hope resembles comfort.
“Sunshine.” Robby remarks surprise as you muster a shy smile and an awkward wave while Hotch behinds you clenches his jaw.
Fuck. Granted, Hotch could’ve rationalised his jealousy if the guy were your age (no he couldn’t have) but Robby must be his age if not older. He’s all crows’ feet and greying hair that Hotch can’t help but measure himself up against.
He hates this. Never once has something so personal jeopardised his ability to maintain professionalism yet you have a way to test all of his boundaries. He hates how Robby is looking at you—like you’re some kind of miracle that he never thought he’d have the chance to see again.
It’s how Hotch looks at you. He knows that look, he wears that look every day with a feeling of pride because up until now—he had no reason to doubt that it was a matter of when not if you returned his affection.
Now? Now he feels the urge to drag you out of this ED and make you promise to never look at another man ever again. But he can’t, so he doesn’t.
“I uh—we’re here to interview Mr. Harlow. We’re with the BAU—we just have a couple of questions about what you saw today,” you murmur reassuringly to the wary man whilst glancing back at Robby.
Hotch’s firm voice startles you slightly when he moves from behind you to stand next to you, effectively acting as a barrier between you and Robby, “We need you to go over anything you can remember from this morning.”
Robby’s gaze turns amused when he notices Hotch’s posturing, snorting to himself as he shuffles out of the room, “I’ll leave you to it.”
You nod meekly, opening your mouth to start the cognitive interview before Robby’s voice interrupts you, “Dinner later Sunshine? Would be good to catch up.” He offers, an easy smile in his place.
Your heart warms, as much as you’ve enjoyed your time at the BAU, the day shift were the first people who made you feel like you were part of a community.
“Yeah,” you offer easily. “I’m working a case right now, but I’d like that. Maybe you could invite the rest—”
“Agent, we’re in the middle of something.” Hotch spits out, his eyes ablaze as he stares you down.
You shrink into yourself, not noticing Robby’s frown at your demeanour though he leaves after you give him a reassuring smile. You give your full attention back to your witness and proceed with the interview.
˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆
You somehow feel like you’ve done something wrong despite the interview being a complete success. You walk out of the room with the feeling that Hotch is…mad at you? Frustrated?
You’re not entirely sure, only that he speaks to you in one word responses if he’s not supplied a grunt of some kind. It gets worse when you confirm your plans with Robby as you walk out, offering for Hotch to go on without you when you notice other Pittsburgh PD officers also in the ED.
“It’ll give me some time to ask him a couple more questions and you can go over what we already know with the rest of the team, I’m sure the officers won’t mind.” You reassure him.
Hotch fights the growl that wants to burst out of his throat. He minds. He minds that Robby’s been waiting not so patiently to get you wrapped around his dirty little fingers, for you to decide that maybe you don’t want Hotch and instead want to trade up to some fucking ER Doctor.
“No, we came together. I’ll drive you back.” His answer is curt and your confusion doubles. What is his problem?
“But I—”
“Sunshine, my truck’s sitting outside if you’d rather drive that. I don’t mind coming and getting’ it from you later before dinner.” Robby offers, interrupting your conversation Hotch thinks bitterly.
Of course he drives a truck, and of course he’d offer for you to take it. Any excuse in the book to get to see you again huh? Well Hotch can deal with that.
“That won’t be necessary, we have everything that we need to form a working profile and time is really of the essence here. We need to go. Now.” He orders, leaving no room for misinterpretation as he grabs your arm despite the gasp you let out, sparks shooting up your arm as your dragged out the parking lot.
“What? Hotch—” you squeak out, trying to tug your arm from his hold as he pulls you into the car, lifting you by your hips and plopping you into the passenger seat. You squawk in protest squirming as he adjusts your legs slightly and closes the door, jogging to the driver’s seat and getting in with a scowl still planted on his face.
˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆
You’ve been silent and matching Hotch’s scowl the entire drive back to the precinct, “This is kidnapping you know.” You remark sarcastically, folding your arms over your chest..
Hotch blows out a frustrated breath, “We had to leave, we didn’t have time for you be chummy with your friends.” He growls out, hands tightening on the wheel until he’s white knuckling it.
“Yeah sure, blame me when you’re the one with a stick up your ass.” He hears you mutter to yourself, forcing his resolve to break.
“That’s it.” He snarls, pulling off onto the shoulder of the road. There are barely any cars on this stretch of road, but it still brings a gasp to your lips at the jerky movement.
“What is wrong with you!” you hiss out, clutching at your seatbelt and the handle of the door as your eyes grow wide in panic.
“You’re being a brat.” Hotch growls out, his gaze dark and heavy as his chest heaves up and down in frustration. Your gaze drops to his chest, your mouth growing parched as you shake yourself out of your stupor.
“I’m a brat?” You say incredulously, “I’m a brat when you’re the one who nearly got us into an accident because you were too busy having a temper tantrum over what the fuck ever?”
Hotch’s jaw clicks from how hard he’s clenching it, his glare focused on you, “Well I wouldn’t have been so on edge if you weren’t distracted while on the job.”
If it’s even possible, your scowl deepens, as you unbuckle your seatbelt thrusting your pointer finger into Hotch’s chest with vehemence, “Don’t you dare insinuate that I can’t do my job, I told you I could’ve gotten a ride with a different officer. Hell, even Robby offered—”
“Don’t fucking say his name.” Hotch threatens.
You falter, expression turning into bewilderment, “You’ve got a problem with Robby? You just met him how—”
“Because he was hitting on you!” Hotch bursts out, running his hand over his jaw as he blows out a frustrated breath as he chuckles without humor.
“Huh? Robby? He wouldn’t—”
“Oh, trust me,” Hotch taunts, “He would and he did. I had a front row seat to that entire segment.”
You frown looking as puzzled as ever, “That’s why you were angry? Why does it matter what Robby thinks, it doesn’t impact the case—”
“Fuck, you’re irritating.” Hotch grounds out, launching himself over the counsel and swallowing your annoyed sound with his lips. He kisses you fiercely, his chapped lips borderline bruising your own as he prods at your lips with his tongue, seeking entrance.
He muffles your whimpers with his drawn out groan as he licks into your mouth, his hand coming up to cup your face, angling you to deepen the kiss as he threads his fingers through your hair.
Your hands come up shakily to clench around his t-shirt as you whine into his mouth, lazily licking into his mouth like you’re trying to play catch up with him.
When he draws himself away, you follow his lips unconsciously—your own puckered with a whine as he takes in your dazed expression. He licks his lips watching you, already half hard in his pants from the taste of you.
“I was jealous.” He admits, his voice low. He’s still looking at you, watching for any change in your expression.
Your eyes widen, “Why?” you mumble aloud.
Hotch scoffs a laugh, “Because I like you? Because I wished that I had worked up the nerve to ask you out before that hotshot doctor did? Because I was too much of a wuss because I was scared you’d say no? you take your pick.” He says, smiling without humour.
You frown, your hand hesitantly lifting to cup Hotch’s cheek. You nibble on your bottom lip, drawing a groan from Hotch’s chest.
“I—I like you too.” You admit shyly, your expression growing abashed as you avoid eye contact with him.
“Look at me.” He demands firmly, his hand cupping your chin to force you to meet his gaze.
“I’m sorry I lashed out at you, that was unfair of me.” He says softly. You shrug, rubbing your thumb up and down his cheek.
“S’okay, I know you didn’t mean it.” You mumble.
Hotch shakes his head, “No.” he states firmly, “I didn’t mean it but that doesn’t make it right, you don’t deserve to be treated like that. I’m sorry.” He insists.
You smile softly, “Forgiven, you can be so emotional sometimes.” You tease softly.
Hotch can’t help but roll his eyes, “You mean it though? you—you like me?” he asks hoarsely.
You grow shy, nodding softly. “Say it again.” He demands petulantly.
You snort, “What will I get if I do?” you taunt.
Hotch’s expression grows devilish, “Anything you want.” He mutters darkly, gazing at you with heat in his eyes. His dick twitches inside of his pants as he has to fight the urge to thrust up into empty space.
Your pupils dilate, “I like you.” You say breathily and Aaron’s smirk grows wider.
“That right?” He taunts softly, his hand dropping to your thigh and slowly moving upwards.
You shudder softly, your thighs slipping open as you gaze grows heavier. “Is this okay?” Aaron checks in with you.
You nod softly, your own hand coming to rest of his shoulder as you feel him run his index finger over the inseam of your tailored pants.
A sharp gasp escapes you, “Fuck.” Aaron mutters as he watches you squirm.
“Take off your pants.” He orders and you scramble to pull your pants and underwear off in quick succession.
Aaron’s breathing grows heavier as he catches sight of your wet cunt, glistening from its moisture as you spread your legs shyly.
His groan is loud in the car as he runs his thumb over your sticky entrance, pausing to press indecently over your hole softly before running it back up and down through your wetness.
You whimper, grabbing hold of his bicep as you make half-hearted thrusts against his thumb, clenching down emptily on the tip of his thumb each time he teasingly enters your cunt.
“I—oh.” You gasp, feeling Hotch’s thumb start to rub circles on your clit mixed with your wetness. You feel yourself start to leak between your thighs, grinding your hips up into Hotch’s thumb.
“Does that feel good?” he grunts, using his other hand to circle your entrance with his index finger, slipping it in as he rubs your clit and watching in fascination as your pussy swallows his finger whole, clenching down so tightly on him that he can’t help but imagine how tight you’d be on his dick.
“Hotch, I—" you whine as he thrusts his finger in and out, curling it slowly to brush against that soft spongy area inside of you that turns your legs into jelly.
“Aaron,” he orders you. “You call me Aaron while I make you feel good.”
You nod nonsensically, barely even listening as your focus is on the feeling of Hotch’s fingers in you. “Another—want, oh my god, another.” You beg him, leaking all over his fingers as you thrust harder, seeking more friction.
Hotch adds his middle finger easily enough, drawing out a guttural moan from you as you feel yourself climbing closer to the edge. You can feel every callous and groove on Hotch’s fingers and it makes you even wetter.
God you want his fingers inside of you forever, stretching you out and making you cum. “I can’t, close—” you mumble softly, throwing your head back as you clench your hand down on Aaron’s shoulder—you expression scrunching in pleasure.
“Yeah?” Aaron coos, “Cum on my fingers baby—that’s a good girl, cum for me.” He growls, fucking his fingers into your harder as you hurtle towards the finish line.
Your cunt clenching down harshly as you walls spasm around his fingers, your vision whiting out from pure pleasure as Hotch milks you for your orgasm until you’re left twitching and spent on the seat.
“Good girl.” He mumbles softly, laying a soft kiss on your forehead before taking his fingers out of you, bringing them to his own mouth, and sucking as his own eyes roll back into his head.
You’re about to offer to suck him off when you’ve recovered when you notice the wet patch that blooms over his crotch.
lil request of some jealous hotch maybe👉🏻👈🏻 i’m kinda picturing moments aaron getting all jealous and taking the matter in his own hands and teaching reader a lesson🫣😫
this is so fucking good, and coincidentally will be chapter 28 of moments 👀 (it involves a toy, a bed, and a few hours)
so instead please enjoy secret relationship hotch becoming jealous of his baby being hit on by some dude at a bar while the team is out, and then proceeding to finger her under the table
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader
Words: 1.8k
CW: 18+, nsfw, mdni.
Tags/warnings: established secret relationship, jealous!hotch, possessiveness, pet names (baby, good girl), sir kink, groping, teasing, dirty talk, fingering (f receiving), exhibitionist kink, public sex, aaron basically fingers you in a booth in a bar.
Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.
Aaron had never been more thankful for the low light of Shaw’s, thankful that the shadows that lingered all around them obscuring his hot, red ears from the agents around him. He wasn’t embarrassed by any means, no, he was livid.
They were all staring and snickering about you, leaning over the bar as you waited for the drinks they’d all made you go get just so that you’d be forced to talk to the cute guy that had been making eyes at you all night.
When you’d told them that you hadn’t noticed, they all scoffed and rolled their eyes, telling you that was the reason you were still single. But none of them knew, they couldn’t have, that the reason why you hadn’t seen him staring was because you only cared about one man’s eyes on you – your boss's.
He was rendered completely useless, unable to do anything about him, unable to leap to his feet, stalk across the bar and make him stop talking to you, before swiftly dragging you to the bathroom and fucking you silly until the only thing you could think about was his cock.
He knew you weren’t doing it maliciously. There wasn’t a single bad bone in your body. It wasn’t your fault that he found you attractive, wasn’t your fault that Emily was determined to get you laid, wasn’t your fault that you were making him so unbelievably jealous that he couldn’t think straight.
He almost let out a sigh of relief when the bartender slid five drinks on the counter in front of you and you skillfully grabbed all of them in your hands before quickly making your way back to their table.
“So?” Emily asked the second you put the drinks down, everyone reaching out to grab their glass and the scoop of your flirting.
You shook your head. “Eh, not for me.”
You slid in next to Aaron, uncharacteristically so, and yet it didn’t seem anyone noticed, still too focused on you to notice how Aaron’s body had relaxed beside you.
“That’s not for you?” Emily shockingly pointed back at the blonde guy at the bar who was now engrossed in conversation with another beautiful woman.
“Nope,” you simply stated, not giving her anything to continue prying. She scoffed then, unbelieving.
“Can we go dance now?” Penelope whined again and Morgan immediately began pushing Emily out of the booth so they could get out.
You took a sip of your drink as you watched them scurry towards the other side of the bar, hand in hand, but not before they dragged Emily and JJ along for the ride. It was just the six of you now, Spencer having left earlier in the night and Rossi not even entertaining the possibility of getting wasted with you on a perfectly fine Friday night.
“Have fun,” you joked, Emily poking her tongue out at you and you returned the gesture. “Get her to relax a little and leave me alone, JJ!”
Aaron took a swing of the cold beer he’d been nursing since you got here an hour ago, trying to play it as cool as he could, disinterest being what would maintain your relationship private, until you were finally alone.
He set the glass back down on the table before his hand came down on your thigh, slapping it slightly, the coldness of his hand mixing with the sting on his action. Your gaze snapped to his, shocked, scared, ashamed, while his remained dark, glossy, enraged.
He was jealous, so unbelievably jealous he couldn’t even hide it. Your breathing picked up, your heart practically rattling against your chest, your mouth going dry with anticipation.
“Just out of curiosity,” he whispered, slowly running his hand up towards your heat. “What is your type?”
You slumped back in your seat, back pressed tightly against the plush cushions of the booth, acutely aware of where you were and the fact that your closest friends were dancing just behind you.
Thankfully you were hidden away, obscured, but there were still a lot of people around, a lot of bodies that could turn to you at any moment.
“I asked you a question, baby,” he snapped, grip tightening unbelievably close to where you needed him.
“You,” you swallowed thickly. “You, sir.”
The pockets of haziness, of blurred lines and dark corners were finally working to his advantage as he draped your left leg over his lap, opening you up under the table to gain easier access.
You couldn’t help but dart your eyes around the room once more, desperate to make sure that no one could see you like this.
“Don’t look at them, look at me,” he commanded and you swiftly obeyed, turning your hazy eyes back on his, the fire burning in them almost mesmerizing, holding you hostage. His hand slid off your leg, swiftly cupping your crotch tightly. “This belongs to me,” he squeezed. “You belong to me,” your eyes were glossy with tears now. “No one gets to touch you, ever, no one gets to flirt with you, no one gets to so much as look at you, do I make myself clear?”
You whimpered pathetically, nodding your head feverishly, and yet it only made him squeeze harder, bordering on painful. Your brows furrowed, confusion at his continued roughness making a single tear fall down your cheek.
“Apparently I wasn’t clear enough,” he spat, his fingers skillfully pulling your panties to the side. His cold fingers were immediately met with wet warmth, your clit practically on fire as he began to tease it, never touching it long enough for you to feel anything other than frustration.
“No, sir, please,” you sobbed, your hand wrapping around his wrist, but instead of trying to force him off you, you tried to get him to touch you where you wanted him.
“No?” he repeated, incredulous. “You’re not mine?”
His movements stilled then and yet you continued to grind yourself against his palm, against his fingers, against him. Whatever shame, whatever fears you had about getting caught, about someone seeing him touch you seemed to have evaporated as the desire to finally come undone took over.
“Such a greedy girl,” he groaned in your ear. “Even when you’ve been bad and I’m trying to punish you, you still have one thing on your mind.”
His other arm wrapped around your waist, his hand tightly gripping your left hip to pin you back down to the seat and keep you there, unable to move yourself where you desperately needed.
It was like a spell lifted then, your face immediately flushing crimson as you were reminded of where you were and just how exposed you truly were, even in the low light. Your head fell into the crook of his neck, face buried into his shirt in shame.
Your shame only spurred him on, his movements picking up once more, his fingers running along the entirety of your slit, collecting your slick, making sure to never touch your entrance or clit.
“Next time a guy comes up to you, what are you going to say?” he asked, bitter, condescending, mean.
You couldn’t breathe much less think about what you wanted to answer, too concerned by trying to act as normal as possible.
He landed a slap against your clit then, perfectly timed with the music around you, the instrument solo drowning out the sharp sound. You moaned, quickly biting into his suit jacket to further muffle the lewd noises spilling out your mouth.
He gave you a second to allow the shock to sharpen your senses, his fingers returning to their previous movements casually as he scanned the room, making sure you hadn’t drawn any attention to yourselves.
“Next time a guy comes up to me,” you managed through ragged breaths, bravely lifting your head so your gaze could meet his. “I’ll tell him I’m not interested.”
“Next time some guy comes up to you,” he seethed in your ear, low and terrifying. “You’re going to tell them your boyfriend doesn’t like to share,” he emphasized his words by finally sinking his fingers into you, coaxing a whimper from your throat. “And they should probably leave you alone before he comes back.”
He curled his fingers upwards, hooking them against the spot deep inside you that always made you come undone in seconds.
“Yes, sir,” you smiled brightly, the fact that he’d called himself your boyfriend fully processing through your fucked out brain.
“Good girl,” and with that he let loose, his fingers thrashing inside you, not even building up to his big finale by sliding them in and out of you first.
You held his stare, your mouth opening for silent moans, for restrained whimpers, for jagged breathing. He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop as the song your teammates had all been dancing too was quickly coming to a close.
Your hands wrapped around his shirt, bunching it up and wrinkling it. That’s how he knew you were close. His thumb returned to your clit, rubbing fast circles over it. Your walls began to clench around him, your hips began to sink themselves farther into his hand.
“Cum, baby,” he whispered into your ear, soft yet commanding.
It all came at you too quickly, the tension in your body snapping sharply and out of nowhere. Wetness dripped out of you and onto his hand as your body shook against his steady frame. His grip around your waist tightened slightly, bringing your body against him to help keep you stable.
He looked back at his subordinates still twirling around to the final chorus of the song, distracted enough for him to chance it. He leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss to your temple, slowly retracting his fingers from you as he reached over to grab a napkin.
Even in the low light, in the darkness, he could see his hand glisten with your slick and a proud smirk enveloped his lips. You were still curled against him as he did his best to clean you up, to get rid of any evidence of what the two of you had just done.
He bunched the napkins up, swiftly pocketing them before he set you back down on the seat, a respectable distance away from him, and wiped your face clean of your runny mascara. Almost as if he’d timed it perfectly, four bodies approached your table.
“Are you okay, sweetness?” Morgan asked you as they returned to the table, definitely noticing your flushed face.
You nodded, not daring to make eye contact as your heart continued to race, the aftershock of your orgasm still rocking through you.
“I think she’s had too much to drink,” Aaron told him, concerned softness lacing his words, like a boss taking care of his employees. “I’m gonna take her home.”
He didn’t even have to prompt you to follow before you were sliding off the booth, your legs barely keeping you up. He followed quickly after you, hooking his arm around your back before you could collapse, leaving your untouched drink on the table in front of them.
idk what it is about these two but they really like going at it in public
another man’s jeans (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot
Ever since Ashe dropped “Another Man’s Jeans” I have had this idea in mind so BELIEVE ME I am so glad to finally have this out of my brain and in front of y’all. Please scream with me it’s so hot I can’t do this
Friendly reminder that if you’re not 18 or older to not interact with this post please and thank you :)
Summary: You and Aaron used to date years ago, back when you both were too immature to know what you wanted -- but you knew you wanted each other. Now he’s working a case in the city where you live, and you want to have a little bit of fun ;))
Warnings: jealous!Hotch (I KNOW), smut ;) grinding, oral sex (f receiving), brief handjob, slight size kink, unprotected sex (use a condom irl for the love of GOD), dub-con (VERY slight, I think, but there are some moments where I can see it being questionable; just remember reader & Aaron used to be together, so this isn’t their first rodeo with each other, if you know what I mean)
Hotch Masterlist
Once upon a time, you were mine
And it made sense, it don’t make sense anymore
At times I think about when it did
If someone had told you this morning that Aaron Hotchner would be walking through the front door of your office, then you would’ve kissed them on the mouth.
Five years have passed since you kissed Aaron, but not a single day has gone by that you haven’t thought about him.
You do a brief celebratory spin in your chair before hopping to your feet, and plastering on your grin.
He’s not alone, unfortunately. There’s an older guy with him in an expensive suit with a gold signet ring on his pinky.
“Who let you out of the Mafia?” I joke, looking at Aaron’s friend.
He smiles slightly, but Aaron doesn’t.
“Y/N,” Aaron says, in that same tone you remember from five years ago. When you’d say something you shouldn’t have and he would warn you to stop.
“Aaron,” you reply, in the same tone you always did. Knowing you were annoying him, but loving it.
“The famous Y/N,” Aaron’s friend says. “I’m David Rossi.” He sticks out his hand for you to shake.
“Dave, I do know you,” you shake his hand. “Heard many stories. Good ones, I promise.”
Turning to look at Aaron, you smile. “How are you?”
“Fine,” he says. “We need to speak with your boss.”
You snort. “Funny.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
“Aaron,” you almost roll your eyes. “I am my boss. What do you need?”
Rossi is smirking, looking between the two of you. He had heard many stories about you. From ones that left Aaron with heart eyes to others that left him angrily sipping his whiskey. You were a whirlwind that never left Aaron’s mind. You still haunt him today.
“We’re looking for Avery Dillard,” Rossi says, since Aaron can’t stop staring at you.
“Avery…” you think for a second. “I haven’t seen her today, but I’ll take you to her desk. Come on, this way.”
You wave for them to follow you, listening for their footsteps as you walk down the hallway through the rows of cubicles to Avery’s.
“She usually takes Fridays off, so I didn’t expect to see her today anyway,” you explain. As you lean against the edge of the cubicle walls, you cross your arms. “Can I ask what this is about?”
Aaron and Dave share a look.
“Is there somewhere we can speak privately?” Aaron asks.
A thrill runs through you, even though you know it’s inappropriate. He’s clearly here to work, but God, he looks good.
“Sure, there’s a conference room just over here.”
Dave stays behind at Avery’s desk, but Aaron follows you to the conference room. Unlocking the door, you step inside and flick the light switch. Aaron shuts the door behind himself.
“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the table.
Raising an eyebrow, you sit down, knowing immediately that this is a type of serious you’ve never seen from him before. He sits down in the chair next to you, linking his fingers together and resting his hands on the table.
“What’s going on?” you ask again, beginning to feel slightly panicky, which is far from normal for you. Especially not around Aaron.
“Avery was reported missing this morning,” Aaron says gently. “We’re currently investigating a series of kidnappings of young women that have ended in murders. We believe Avery might be connected.”
“Connected? As in…?”
“We don’t know if she’s dead,” he says quickly. “We always assume they are alive unless told otherwise.”
“Okay, but,” you pause, wringing your hands. “You just said the others end in murders.”
“Unfortunately, yes, that is the pattern.”
“Aaron,” you breathe. “This can’t be real.”
“How long has Avery worked with you?”
“Just a few weeks,” you rub your forehead. “Maybe a month, I’d have to check the records to be sure, but not long. She just graduated college, needed a job for the summer. I needed some extra help, and I know how hard it is finding a job for just a summer, so. I told her she was welcome here, and she’s been here since.”
“Did she ever talk about a boyfriend, a girlfriend? Anyone?”
“No, she’s… Oh, not a prude, but you know? She doesn’t hook up with anyone and she’s a very serious dater, which is not what is around here. It’s a lot of one night stands here.”
Aaron’s eyes narrow slightly. “Alright.”
You roll your eyes. “Don’t give me that look.”
“What look?”
“You know the look,” you mutter. “Don’t act jealous. We’re talking about a girl who might be dead. I’m not trying to seduce you — right now.”
He gives you his other look, the annoyed one, but that only fuels you. He should know better.
“You still single?” you ask, resting your chin in your palm.
“When was the last time you saw Avery?” he redirects the conversation immediately.
“So yes,” you nod. “I saw her on Wednesday. She took yesterday off for a doctor’s appointment.”
“The whole day?”
“I don’t judge,” you shrug. “Not my business.”
“Alright,” he says. “I think that’s all for now. I should get back to see what Dave found.”
“Come on,” you smirk, standing to your feet with him. “Are we seriously just gonna pretend like nothing ever happened?”
He opens the door and waves for you to leave.
“Alright,” you shrug. “I see how it is.”
~ ~ ~
I don’t need a bouquet, keep the flowers
Let’s go dancing
There was a time, not so long ago
You couldn’t keep your hands off me
Friday night for you normally means going to a bar, but a Friday night after seeing Aaron for the first time in five years definitely means going to a bar.
Dressed in your favorite outfit to make you feel and look as hot as humanly possible, you head to your regular spot. You texted some friends to see if they want to meet up, but a lot are busy, so you don’t expect much.
Picking a stool at the bar, you settle in and order your first drink.
Within minutes, your night is made.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you chuckle to yourself, spotting Aaron as he walks into the bar with Dave and a few others.
Sipping your drink with a smile, you wait for him or Dave to notice you.
Aaron notices you first, but Dave speaks to you first.
“This must be a popular place, huh?” Dave says, nudging your shoulder as he slides up next to you.
“Hey you,” you grin. “It’s the best bar around. You made a good choice.”
“Actually, it was Aaron’s idea to come here.”
You raise your eyebrows. “Ah, I see.” Aaron knows you too well. You had forgotten that.
“Want me to go get him?” Dave asks after ordering his drink.
“Nope,” you smirk. “I’ll get him.”
He laughs. “I don’t doubt that. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”
“Just might take you up on that offer,” you smirk. “Let me grab another drink.”
“Let me,” Dave says, waving the bartender down.
You’re never one to turn down a free drink, so you let him get your second one.
“We just closed the case,” he says, watching the bartender prepare your drink. “Avery is home safe and sound, completely unharmed.”
You exhale deeply. “Thank god. Thank you for finding her.”
“It’s what we do,” Dave smiles, squeezing your shoulder. “I’m just glad we got there in time.”
You sense he’s done talking about the case, so you don’t ask any other questions. The bartender hands your drink to you, and you follow Dave back to the table.
Instantly, a man with tattoos circling his arms locks eyes with you, offering a grin that you return.
“This is Y/N,” Dave says.
You smile at everyone, leaving your eyes on Aaron’s just a little longer than necessary. By the time you look away, he’s still looking at you.
Perfect.
After getting through introductions, Emily leaves with JJ to get drinks from the bar. This left you with Aaron, Dave, and Derek, who wasted no time in moving closer to you. And you, naturally, wasted no time in leaning closer to him.
Across from you, Aaron’s jaw clenches.
“Morgan, don’t you want a drink?” Dave asks.
“I could use a beer,” Morgan nods. “What’d you get, sweetheart?”
“Dave just bought this one for me,” you smile, lifting your glass. “I’ll hit you up later for the next round, yeah?”
Morgan rubs your arm before sauntering away. Emily and JJ return with cocktails. Aaron’s gaze burns holes through your temple. Dave tells wild stories about his experiences with the Mafia.
The night continues just as it began. Emily and JJ accepted Morgan’s move and even shared looks with you when he would stand a little too close. At one point, his arm snaked around your waist, and that was when Aaron abruptly left the table.
You lean into him a little more. You can’t help it. He’s attractive, smells nice, has a killer smile. And charming, my God.
But, as much as you love those things, he isn’t Aaron. And Aaron is who you’ve been trying to get.
You manage to slip away from Morgan to go to the bathroom, or at least that was your excuse. Truthfully, you wanted to look for Aaron. But you didn’t have to. He was there by the bathrooms, waiting for you.
Walking right up to him, you tilt your head. “You there?”
He barely moves, but he looks at you. “What do you want?”
You laugh nervously. “What are you talking about?”
“I know what you’re doing,” he says.
“Is it working?”
“No.”
You narrow your eyes. “I think it might be.”
He takes a deep breath, which is exactly how you know it is working.
“It’s not a good idea,” he says.
“I didn’t say it was.”
“We’re going back to Virginia tomorrow.”
“I’m aware.”
“Y/N.”
“Aaron,” you take a step closer to him. “Come on.” Give in already.
Come on, make a move
If you know what I mean
“We don’t work together,” he says.
“I know,” you reply. “I’m not saying let’s get back together. I’m just saying, let’s have a little bit of fun while you’re here.”
He nods his head back in the direction of the table. “You’re not spending the night with Morgan?”
You glance over your shoulder and shrug. “He’s cute, but he’s not you. I think he knows that.”
Aaron hesitates, shakes his head, then says, “Let me think about it.”
You know what that means, so you roll your eyes. “While you’re doing that, I’ll be dancing.”
Or I can be the girl in
another man’s jeans
Spinning around, you head back to the table, looping your arms through Emily and JJ’s. They gladly let you tug them onto the dance floor, which Morgan already occupies. It didn’t take long for him to spot you three and come over, joining the circle.
The two of you dance a little too close, but you don’t mind. He had to have seen you talking to Aaron, and you know he isn’t dumb. You’re either going back to the hotel with Aaron, or with no one.
~ ~ ~
Rossi has a whiskey double waiting for Hotch by the time he comes back to the table.
“Thanks,” Aaron says, picking up the glass.
“No problem,” Dave smirks. “What did Y/N want?”
Aaron doesn’t budge, his eyes glued to you on the dance floor, your body just too close to Morgan’s for Aaron’s liking. But he can’t be jealous. You’re not his anymore. You haven’t been for years.
Aaron tears his eyes away from you to look at Rossi, and his friend recognizes the look. It’s the same look Aaron had in his eyes when he broke up with you. Like every atom in his body is at war with each other, holding him back from running after you.
“You better ask her before Derek does,” Dave says. “And before she says yes.”
Aaron looks up and over to the dance floor where Derek has his hands on your waist. That’s it.
Leaving his drink on the table, barely half finished, Aaron marches onto the dance floor and grabs you.
“We’re leaving” is all you hear before you feel yourself being pulled away from Morgan. You recognize the feel of Aaron’s hands, though, so you willingly let him drag you away.
As you look over your shoulder, Emily and JJ are waving with grins, and Morgan winks. The plan worked perfectly.
~ ~ ~
Is it me, or is it hot?
What you want, is what I got
The hotel is a short, two-minute walk from the bar, which is perfect for all purposes. Including the current situation.
You were walking “too slow” according to Aaron, so he promptly picked you up bridal-style when you got outside the bar.
Now, inside the elevator at the hotel, he sets you down, but only so he can back you into the wall.
“You drive me insane,” he says, pressing his body against yours, letting you feel him — all of him. With his mouth on your neck, it takes all of your energy to not let your knees buckle right there.
“That was the plan,” you reply, breathless, head spinning from him.
His arms snake around your waist. His fingers are cool against your skin as they wander underneath your shirt. Then, the elevator settles, and he picks you up again, this time throwing you over his shoulder.
“Aaron!” you hiss, worried someone might be in the hall. Thankfully, though, it’s empty, and his room is just around the corner.
He swipes his keycard and kicks the door open, tossing the card and his wallet on the table as the door closes behind him. He flicks the deadbolt into place at the top of the door, ensuring no unwanted disturbances.
Finally, he sets you down on the bed — well, more like, he drops you, and then climbs on top of you.
It’s all so easy. The rhythm the two of you had is so easy to fall back into.
Your hands cup his cheeks to pull his lips to yours while his hands find their place underneath your shirt, pressed against your waist, squeezing, pulling you into him. You spread your legs and wrap them around him, pulling his body down onto yours.
“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, his hips involuntarily grinding against your lower half. “Fuck.”
You begin to make your move, wanting your tongue in his mouth and his in yours, but he has other ideas, dipping his head to your neck — to your weakest spots.
It doesn’t take long for him to reduce you to a whimpering mess between the biting and sucking at your neck, grinding against you, and holding you still with one hand at the base of your skull.
The feeling of him is so overwhelming, you feel yourself cumming before you even realize what’s happening.
Aaron goes quiet, gentle kisses on your neck. “You just came, didn’t you?” he asks, and you feel him smile against your skin.
Sheepishly, you reply, “Yeah. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he says seriously, pulling back to look into your eyes. “I want at least three more out of you.”
Your eyes widen. “Aaron—”
He covers your mouth with his, quieting your protests, knowing that this is exactly what you want.
You’ve never known anyone to distract you as best as Aaron does. Before you know it, your shirt is over your head and your pants are on the floor.
“No bra or underwear?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“It’s laundry day,” you smirk. “Whoops.”
His look turns into a grumpy glare, and you nearly laugh as he’s kicking his pants off and tossing his t-shirt away. “What?”
“You wanted to steal my panties, didn’t you?”
“Be quiet,” he grumbles, laying his body over you once again. “But yes. Obviously.”
“I’ll mail you some,” you say, and you feel him twitch.
“You’re going to be the death of me.”
You grin. “I know.”
He feels your hands on the waistband of his boxers, and he drops his head onto your shoulder, letting you take him out. You know his body almost as well as yours, the right way to hold him, to stroke him. Before long, he’s pulling your hand away, leaving himself right on the edge.
He kisses your lips once, then leaves a trail of pecks all down your body, ending right where you want him.
Your fingers thread through his hair as he kisses your inner thighs, nipping lightly at the skin. On their own, your hips buck, wanting him closer, and he obliges, ready to send you on your way to your second climax of the night.
He holds your hips down as he ravages you, knowing the little touches that send you reeling. You cum embarrassingly fast for the second time tonight, your chest heaving as he doesn’t stop. He eases every last bit of orgasm from you before calming down, kissing all around your legs and hips and stomach.
You claw at his shoulders, wanting him closer and on top of you again. He crawls back up the bed, pausing to kiss you deeply, claiming your mouth with his tongue.
You can tell he’s multitasking, though, preoccupied with rummaging through something on the nightstand. He breaks from kissing you to look up, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
“What are you looking for?”
“A condom,” he says. “I don’t— Fuck, I don’t have one.”
“For God’s sake,” you mutter, “just fuck me already.”
“Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t have my hand on your dick right now if I wasn’t sure.”
“Alright, alright.”
He swats your hand away, not because he doesn’t want you to guide him in (because he loves that) but because if you do, he might not last.
He takes his time, remembering the size difference and how long it has been. The last thing he ever wants to do is hurt you.
But you’re not having any of it.
Lifting your hips, Aaron slides home instantly, and cusses when he does. Your eyes close from the blissful feeling of being so full, a feeling you’ve missed much more than you thought.
“Don’t forget you have two left,” he says, breathing hard in between each word.
“If you can last,” you tease, knowing the exact reaction it’ll get out of him — because it’s the one you want.
“Oh, I’ll last,” he says, lifting himself up. “You might be sore tomorrow.”
You grin. “That a promise?”
“It is now.”
And he keeps it.
There’s something about the way Aaron fucks you. You’ve never been able to place it, other than the fact that there is no one like him. You don’t know what it is, or what it could be, but you will never get enough of him.
He fucks without mercy, especially when you egg him on. He knows your weaknesses, the way you love when his whole weight is on top of you, pressing him impossibly deep. You don’t know when you cum for the third time, but it must be around the time when his hips start stuttering.
He regains his composure enough to slip out of you and roll you onto your side, thrusting back into you with ease. Your cries echo off the walls as he holds you against him, tonguing your ear, sucking a hickey where no one can see.
At this angle he reaches all the spots you can’t. All the spots that haven’t been touched since he left. All the spots that have been aching for him for so long.
When you cum for the fourth time, it immediately sends him over the edge, thrusting as deep as he can into you. You thrash in his arms from the overstimulation and he holds you, shushing your cries as his hips thrust gently.
On his final thrust, you ask him to stay inside. His arms tighten around your waist, holding you against him, like he’s wanted to for the past five years.
I want jealous hotch to be really possessive when the reader gets kidnapped because the kidnapper is obsessed with the reader and he’s saying he can treat her better 😚🔫
-🥲
okay not this being something i’ve written about but haven’t posted yet 👀 (he’s not super possessive at first but it shows later on don’t worry hehehe)
but literally anon hotch would not leave your side after the incident even if you were okay, if you were in a relationship the man would kiss you harder, pull you closer, do anything to just solidify the fact that you’re his
but if you weren’t together that would make it all the more hard on him because he can’t show anything it turns into maybe some pent up frustration that he takes out on you and then you confront him about it and it forces him to come to terms with his feelings and admitting them to you but god the kiss after that would be searing 🥵
I love ‘The Ultimate Loss’ so much freaking much! I’m so excited for this series to continue🥺💕 I also noticed that you’re taking requests, and wanted to ask if you could do a Hotch x Reader fic where Sean comes to visit and is interested in the reader so Hotch starts acting jealous and protective of her? Thank you🥰
play on jealousy.
word count: 762
warnings: none, just a very jealous hotch :)
A/N: I know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but I did my best!
You see the blond Hotchner boy make his way through the bullpen doors, and now you know why the BAU ladies love him. He was definitely attractive, just not in the same way Aaron was.
You and Aaron had recently gotten together, and you both couldn’t be happier. After the endless months of dancing around each other, around the idea of dating, Aaron finally plucked up the courage after another long night you spent with him and Jack. You were in it for the long haul with him, and Aaron and Jack were over the moon.
Aaron opens his office door, a questioning look on his face as he calls out to his younger brother. But, Sean notices you first and sidles up to your desk, a boyish grin plastered on his face. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Aaron’s jaw set in place.
Oh. He made this too easy.
You instantly settle into your chair, a small smirk playing at your lips.
Finally, get to have some fun around here.
“Now, what’s your name? I don’t remember seeing you during my last visit, and I’m not one to forget a pretty face” Sean says, a look of almost understanding in his eyes.
You say your name as your eyes flick over to Aaron’s, and you see that he’s retreated back into his office, eyes still keenly aware of your proximity to Sean.
“Oh, Sean! It’s good to see you!” JJ comes flying into the bullpen, Garcia hot on her trail.
“Uh, JJ, wasn’t it? And you’re... Garcia,” He says with a nod of his head. Garcia dips her chin in response, a smile on her face as always.
“Hey, blondie! Now how come we haven’t seen you?” Derek comes up and claps him on the shoulder, greeting Sean.
Sean’s eyes pan up to Aaron’s office. “I’m looking at the reason,” The sarcasm in his tone pulls a small chuckle from everyone, even you.
Next thing you know, you’ve all made plans to head out for drinks. You volunteer to grab Aaron up from his office.
You knock, poking your head in once you open the door, “The teams heading out for drinks with Sean, and I was sent to grab you.” You fully step into his office.
The older man huffs out a “One second,” as he continues writing out his after-action reports. You could see the steam coming out of his ears. You laugh to yourself despite it all.
“Aaron,” You say, mirth present in your voice. He glances up at you but quickly goes back to writing.
“Aaron,” Your tone is a little more firm, but there’s still humor in your voice. You make your way to the other side of his desk, resting a hand on his very tense shoulder.
It’s only then you notice him white-knuckling the pen. You’re surprised he hasn’t broken it yet, what with his strength.
He huffs again, “What?” You almost laugh again. Who knew flirting with his younger brother could get him so worked up?
“You know I love you, right?” Your words were sincere, but there was something else at play in your tone.
He deflates, heaving out an “I know,” with a sigh.
“And you know that I love only you?” You squeeze his shoulder lightly.
“I know,”
“You also know that I’d never leave you, especially not for your flirt of a brother?” He huffs out what is supposed to be a laugh at that remark, and you know you’ve thoroughly taken the wind out of his sails.
It’s not until your on your way to the bar that the team is at that you finally say something again.
“You’re funny when you’re jealous,” You say as you look at his side profile bathed in the red light of the traffic light.
“I don’t get jealous,” He lies, eyes trained on the road.
“Oh really, because that pen you were holding just about broke,” You say, mirth weaving its way into your voice.
“Shut up,” He says, a smile on his face. He doesn’t really mean it.
He intertwines your fingers and kisses the back of your hand just as the light turns green.
“But then I’d never be able to give you hell!” You exclaim, laughing.
“Yeah, maybe that’d be a good thing,” He lies again, as told by the smile on his face.
“Oh shut it, you love me too much to wish for that,” You swat at him lightly, his eyes still trained on the road.
if you're taking reqs for hotch– him being jealous while being undercover w reader whilst they're dating 😚💕
the life of a showgirl
pairing: aaron hotchner x reader
summary: request above!
cw: typical cm violence, jealous!hotch, somewhat confident!reader, secret relationship, reader goes undercover at a strip club, no smut, angst (kinda but not rlly) fluff (by way of humour i guess), unsub is a sleazy weirdo, nick wilson is a madeup name! idk anyone with that name x not proofread either soz
wc: 2k
author's note: hope you like this! tysm for requesting! requests are deffo open for anyone in my masterlist (linked in my pinned post) (more jealous!hotch here)
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵· ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵· ˚ ₊⊹
It was your last resort. The team had been grasping at straws for the last couple of days trying to catch the unsub, so it was expected that people would start throwing theories and plans at a wall hoping one of them would stick.
And unfortunately for you, one had. One where you and your boss-recently-turned-boyfriend had to go undercover at the unsub’s frequented strip club that was known as a hotspot for him.
5 girls, all missing, all found dismembered, had all worked at the club. The bouncers on each respective night had mentioned a man dressed in all black, booking a private room with all of the girls and subsequently going missing with them after.
Unfortunately for you, all of the girls looked somewhat similar to you, which meant you’d be the most reasonable pick for an undercover mission. This however also meant you’d needed a chaperone inside the club in case things went south fast and the team couldn’t reach you in time.
To everyone’s surprise but your own, Hotch had volunteered. You could tell by the tightness of his jaw and the hard look in his eyes, that he wasn’t just frustrated about the case, he was frustrated they’d have to set you up as bait.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
“You don’t have to do this you know. We can figure out another way.” Aaron’s gruff voice tickles your nape as he zips you up.
Your outfit was…tight.
You could admit that it flattered you greatly, and it was no secret Aaron thought the same as he couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself while ‘helping’ you get ready.
You laugh a little, “Should’ve said something before I had you tie the corset.” You tease. Hotch doesn’t reply but you hear his sharp intake of breath,
“Hey,” your concerned tone shakes him from his daze, “What’s wrong?” you frown.
His jaw tightens as he runs his gazed down your body, taking in the sequins, glitter and heels that make up the babydoll and lingerie underneath, leaving little to the imagination.
“I don’t like this.” He admits through a mutter, tugging you into his chest as you gaze up at him through your lashes.
“The plan?” You ask confused, “We’ve been through the plan multiple times I thought you—”
“I don’t like the idea of him looking at you.” He corrects, voice sharp and tinged with disdain as his grip tightens on you. You skin tingles at his tone.
“Oh.” You breath.
“Oh.” Aaron affirms.
“Is that why you volunteered to be my bodyguard?” you ask, half teasing half curious.
Aaron’s cheeks tint slightly pink and you can’t help but smile up at him, “What happened to not treating me any differently?” you mock.
He groans softly, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.
“Don’t tease.” He complains.
You laugh a little, “I can’t help it. You’re the one who brought up that we wouldn’t let us sleeping together get in the middle of our work.”
“Okay well that was before sleeping together turned into you moving in with Jack and I” Aaron states, brows furrowed.
You press a consoling kiss to his cheek, “We have to go.”
Aaron sighs forlornly, biting back another complaint as he lets you detach yourself from him.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
“You have to promise me something,” you ask as you and Hotch are mic’d up and ready to enter the club.
“Hm?” Hotch grunts, maintaining the well known composure he displays in the field.
“You have to trust me.” You assert, not looking at Hotch as you re-adjust your wire.
“I trust you!” Hotch defensively states and you can’t help but snort. “I meant that you’ve gotta let me work Nick. I’ll signal if I need help, but you need to let me work.”
Hotch frowns again, obviously displeased but voices no other complaints. He just nods in agreement and you both walk into the club.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
“Targets at the bar, moving into location” you mutter into your earpiece, adjusting your bra to show more cleavage.
Hotch stands at the end of the bar, within your own eyesight but out of the unsub’s vision. Nick is of average height, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans with an unsuspecting baseball cap on his head.
“Hey handsome,” you croon sweetly as you approach Nick. He lifts his head as you approach, expression shifting from irritation to a sleazy smirk as you get closer.
“Hey sugar, don’t you look like trouble.” He drawls, rubbing a hand across his jaw. You fight the urge to curl your lip in disgust.
“Whatcha doin all by yourself?” you pout in fake innocence, leaning towards Nick as you place your hand on his thigh.
You watch as his Adam apple bobs as he swallows dryly, “I—uh—” he stutters, huffing a laugh as he stumbles.
You laugh as if he’s told a joke and lean further into him, “You wanna see me dance baby?” you whisper softly.
Nick’s eyes widen and darken with something dangerous. You feel a pit form in your stomach, and you feel your confidence slightly falter, it must show slightly on your expression as you hear from your earpiece, “—You okay?” Hotch asks.
Your eyes flick towards him behind Nick and try to nod discretely. However, Nick realises your attention must be elsewhere, grips your chin harshly and tugs you back to him.
“Look at me.” He snarls, eyes wide and manic. Your own eyes widen and you hear Hotch curse in your ear, “I’m sorry, I was just—uh making sure we could get some privacy” you stutter.
“You—you don’t get distracted when talking to someone” He says harshly, “It’s—its rude and you don’t know how frustrating that can be!” He vents frustratedly.
“Y/N you need to de-escalate, this all goes south if he gets worked up. Calm him down. Now.” Reid’s voice filters through your earpiece.
You nod placatingly and place a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.” You apologise and watch as Nick slightly deflates from his volatile explosive manner.
“You’ve got him—give him something more, try and get him alone” Reid coaches and you watch Hotch straighten at his post.
“Alone? Are we sure that’s—” Hotch tries, voice gruff.
“He’s only gonna talk if he knows they’re in private Hotch.” Morgan butts in and you hear Hotch blow out a breath.
You fight the urge to roll your eyes.
“You wanna go somewhere more private, handsome?” you ask softly, playing back into the coy and sweet demeanour you had before.
“Like a private room?” He asks and you nod enthusiastically. “Yeah, whatever you want.” You concede.
You reach your hand out for him which he grabs firmly. His palm is sweaty in your own and you fight back a gag as you pull him through the crowd and towards where the private rooms are located.
You both walk past Hotch and you give him the signal to follow. He keeps a slight distance as he follows yet Nick seems to notice.
“Don’t worry,” you murmur reassuringly, leaning heavily into his side and giggling when you notice him getting stiffer. “He’s just my bodyguard, he’s not here to cause any trouble.”
Nick just grunts, ushering you both faster to get away with Hotch. Hotch keeps his eyes on you both right until you open the door to the room. His eyes are vigilant but dark whilst his jaw is kept clenched tightly.
Hotch fights the urge to refuse you both going into the room alone, there’s no way for him to catch sight of anything untoward happening whilst outside. Never mind that the team has access to the cameras thanks to Penelope.
Waiting is agony, you both can’t have been inside for more than 20 minutes when Hotch hears you start to giggle. He might just break his own teeth with how tightly his jaw is clenched.
He crosses his arms as stays at his post, trying to blend into the background as much as he can. He hates hearing you laugh because of another man, call him jealous, stupid and overtly possessive but he hates it all the same.
“Any update?” he mutters gruffly into his earpiece, hoping that the team gives him the okay to rip open the door and drag that sleazy fucker out of there by the hair.
“Nothing yet—they’re just talking.” Derek says and Hotch can hear someone snort in the background.
“Talking?” he asks through clenched teeth.
“She’s working him alright,” Emily scoffs amusedly, her tone fond.
Hotch bites back a growl, I am going to kill that motherfucker he thinks to himself. It’s agonizing torture, sitting and waiting here for you to be done while he can hear ever giggle, smirk and flirty remark pass your lips.
He pictures you sitting in Nick’s lap, twirling your hair like you do when you flirt with Hotch, biting your lip like you do when he does something attractive, batting your lashes and smiling just as prettily as you do when you wake up in the morning.
It makes him feel violent. Hotch knows he’s not a violent man but he’s sure if given the chance he could kill the man behind that door. He’s never felt so viscerally feral and primitive as he does now.
“Nick!” you giggle through the door while a thump sound echoes. Aaron’s arms reflexively hit the front of the door in frustration, only realising his mistake when there’s silence at the other end until you peek your head out of the door.
Your hair is slightly dishevelled, and you look annoyed at the interruption, “Is something the matter?” you ask pointedly. If Hotch were focused on doing his job, he’d notice your pleading expression to give you a little more time but instead, he’s frustrated and jealous.
“No.” He scowls, lips in a frown. “Hit the door by mistake.” He says, “Sorry.” He tacks on begrudgingly. You look at him oddly before nodding slowly and closing the door again.
He hears you apologise before the conversation picks up again, he stews in his own personal hell and agony for a while before he’s interrupted by Spencer. “He’s confessing to the murders,” he says in awe.
Hotch’s lips quirk momentarily, pride that you’ve done more for this case than anyone else before returning to his neutral frown. He hears Nickstart to get worked up and your voice staying calm and reassuring.
“Hotch,” Emily says into the mic warningly, “He’s going into too much detail, he’s not planning on letting her out of there.”
Hotch frowns, “Do we have enough to make an arrest?”
When Morgan confirms so, Hotch opens the door without a single hesitation, barging over to Nick and yourself, hauling him up from his position and into Hotch’s hold.
“Nick Wilson—You’re under arrest for murder, everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—” Hotch rattles off his rights to him while harshly dragging him through the club.
He doesn’t stop until he reaches the police car parked behind the BAU van, shoving Nick into it and making sure it’s properly enclosed does he then turn to catch sight of you putting on a coat to cover your costume.
“Hey—“Hotch says raggedly as he jogs over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders despite being in close proximity to the team. “You alright? I saw and heard him starting to get a bit worked up.”
You roll your eyes fondly, “I’m fine.”
Hotch frowns, “He touched you; He’s not supposed to touch you, that’s against club policy.”
“So is murdering the stripper you’ve booked.”
“I was just—I was worried.” He says.
You smile, “I know. I’m okay.”
With that, Hotch takes a quick scan of the surroundings before dragging you behind one of the other police vehicles.
“Need to kiss you,” he growls, launching forward and pressing his lips to your own. You make a muffled sound in surprise before throwing your hands around his neck and pulling him into you.
When you both detach, your breathing is laboured and your pupils are blown. “I have—have to give an uh—a statement.” You stammer, blinking owlishly up at Aaron.
Aaron smirks proudly at your demeanour. “I’ll see you after?” he confirms, pressing a second quick kiss to your cheek.
I saw your jealous!hotch and omggg you write him sooo wellllll!!! can we see more of him pretty please :p
would it be enough, if i could never give you peace?
summary: hotch has trouble with you calling other people pet names/request above
wc: 1.2k
cw: not proofread! prev request
a/n: ty for this request & ty for your sweet words!! appreciate you sm, love jealous!hotch, hope you like this xx
join the 1k celebration
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
You’re too kind-hearted, Aaron thinks sometimes. Too soft for the world put before you and too sweet for the horrors you see on a day to day basis.
He used to doubt that you’d make it in the BAU, that you’d buckle and be swallowed whole by the cases and their victims.
But you don’t, you seem to thrive in it. It’s like you need somewhere to channel all of your energy.
You’re still soft, going into situations with warmth and empathy in place of Aaron’s stoicism and cold practicality.
But you’re effective all the same, families are more willing to trust, and unsubs are more easily disarmed with you.
You’re a great asset to the team, Aaron knows that. He respects you not just as an agent but as a person as well.
To have seen what you have and to still be as kind and loving as you are, takes talent.
Most of the team has hardened during their time at the BAU, having chiselled all the soft parts of their personality into jagged edges.
But not you, you’ve stayed just as sweet and bubbly as the day he first interviewed you.
He’s simultaneously grateful and annoyed by it.
Because just as he knows how lovely you are, so does everyone else.
It’s no longer something he cares to admit—having come to terms with it long ago, but he’s a jealous man.
A ridiculously possessive and jealous man that hates when anyone gets to see the parts of you that he cherishes the most.
Even if it’s his own teammates.
“Oh, Spence honey, what happened to your face?” You can’t help but coo as the youngest member walks in with small scratches over his face.
“N-nothing—” The young doctor stutters are you grab his face and Hotch can’t keep his scowl at bay.
He hates watching you fawn over someone else. Hotch calls your name with frustration edging his tone.
You startle slightly, leading to you pressing into Spencer’s bruised skin too harshly. Whispering scattered apologies, you turn your blinding smile back onto your husband.
“Yeahhhhh?” you call back. To anyone else, it might seem like you’re teasing him, but he knows you’re being genuine.
“Lunch.” He informs you. You give him a funny look. He realises he had told you that he’d had a lot of paperwork to catch up on and couldn’t spend his lunch break with you.
While that was heartbreakingly true, the other option of having you coddle his much younger and age-appropriate subordinate just steps away from his office is unfathomable to him.
He’d like to pat himself on the back for not bursting a blood vessel from holding himself back vocally.
He’s a good man, honest. Just not one willing to share you at this current moment. If anything, he has more of a right to your affection than anyone else in the room.
You make Reid promise to ice his face and that you’ll bring him some scar ointment you have at home before making your way back up the stairs to Aaron’s office.
He’s opening the door and shuffling you into the room with little to no patience.
“What’s up?” you ask, smiling softly at him and completely unaware of his inner turmoil. It’s moments like these that would normally bring him shame, yet it seems he’s grown more accepting and accustomed to the less inviting parts of himself.
“I thought you had reports due.” You murmur concernedly, your brows furrowed as you walk over to where he’s standing. Your arms encase his hips, and he can smell your perfume.
He indulges himself slightly by leaning down and hugging you tightly, inhaling reflexively as if commemorating your smell to memory.
“Did you just sniff me?” you ask suspiciously, your voice muffled by still being held into his chest.
His apparent shamelessness is made aware to you when he just hums, “Yes. You smell good.”
He’s smirking, you probably can’t see it because he’s about 2 heads taller than you, but he takes pride in his unabashed nature.
He’s your husband, he’s allowed to indulge every once in a while.
You take a peek out of his hold to catch a glimpse of the window showcasing the rest of the bullpen to see the rest of the team watching you both.
You squirm, “They can all see us you know” you whisper, embarrassed.
He huffs a laugh, “Us hugging is barely the worst thing they’ve seen” he teases.
You huff, pushing against his chest in playful frustration, “Whatever.”
Your complaint is muffled by his shirt fabric and Hotch would like to have it known that the rumbling from his chest was not a laugh.
“You’re very wriggly today,” Hotch remarks, a smile still on his face as his hold on you tightens. You groan, twisting back and forth to have him let go of you.
“You are annoying.” You snark back. He snorts. “You also have work to—stop it! You have work and I also have work to do. Reid and I—"
“Reid and nothing.” He complains, tucking his head into your neck without further adieu and pressing a small kiss into the crook of it. It must look weird considering your height difference, Hotch having to basically contort himself in order to do so.
“What?” you laugh, as if Aaron has just said something unintelligible. “You have a problem with Reid all of a sudden?”
“…No.” His answer is muffled into your skin, and you squirm again from the sensation.
“Oh, you so have a problem with him, what did he do?”
“Stop it.” He huffs.
You laugh, “Uh uh, you brought this up—spill, what did he do to get on your shit list?”
He pauses.
“He didn’t do anything.” A lie.
“Let’s try that one again.”
He takes his face out of your neck to glare at you reproachfully,
“It’s dumb.”
“Tell me anyways.”
“You called him honey.” He says at last, his tone petulant and achingly familiar to a brown haired toddler you both know.
“Did I?” you ask quizzically, looking perplexed.
“When he hurt his face.”
You look as if you’re trying not to laugh, “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” He deadpans.
You can’t help but let a small smile break through, “I couldn’t help it, the only person I get to take care of is Jack—forgive me if my toddler bedside manner isn’t up to par with how we’re supposed to treat our colleagues.”
“You’re making fun of me.” He frowns.
Your smile widens, “Only a little.”
You soften at the sight of his troubled gaze, “Honey, I didn’t even realise. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I was just worried—when was the last time Reid got hurt outside of work?”
Hotch contemplates your question as he realises he can’t recall. You nod, “See—its rare. I was just concerned; there’s nothing more to it than that alright?”
He’s sure he’s still got somewhat of a frown on his face, “You never call me honey when you patch me up.” He mumbles prickly.
Your gaze turns pointed, “When you get hurt it’s because you take down unsubs without back-up, Reid probably got injured tripping over one of his novels.”
Hotch rolls his eyes, “No it’s fine, I understand. You just hate me.”
You jaw slackens in shock before you swat his chest, “Take!” smack “That!” smack “Back!” smack
“Okay! Okay—” he yelps laughing, subduing you swiftly and pressing his lips to yours in a quick peck.
