Youre Weirdly Obsessed With Finding Meaning

who up and latino

I respect your defense of bisexual woman and all but I just don’t want to put my mouth somewhere I know a dick has been

Yall out here acting like these girls’ pussies be haunted by the ghosts of penises past, this ain’t a Dickmas Carol, be so fucking for real

BERLERMO in WISHFUL THINKING

aaron x supermodel reader?? 👀👀

Mystery man | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Supermodel!reader | WC: 1.9k | CW: Fluff, reader is wearing lingerie in a picture at one point

The relentless flashes of cameras were nearly blinding as the black town car came to a halt in front of the venue. You took a moment to steady yourself, exhaling softly before stepping out into the chaos. The city was alive tonight, the buzz of Paris Fashion Week crackling in the evening air like electricity as journalists, media outlets, paparazzi's, and so on had gathered around the velvet ropes to the red carpet.

As you swung one long leg out of the car, the delicate fabric of your gown cascaded in shimmering ripples around you. The dress was a masterpiece—silk that seemed to flow like water, catching the thousand lights with every movement. Diamond earrings glinted against your skin, and your heels—custom-designed, of course—clicked against the cobblestones as you straightened to your full height.

The crowd outside erupted into a frenzy the moment they spotted you, shouting your name in a symphony of accents, the occasional “over here!” cutting through the noise. You didn’t flinch, didn’t falter; you were used to this. It was your stage, and you owned it.

But tonight wasn’t just about you.

You turned, holding out a hand, and watched as he stepped out of the car.

Aaron Hotchner.

Even in the middle of the whirlwind, he exuded a calm authority that made heads turn. The black suit he wore was impeccably tailored, the kind of understated elegance that spoke volumes without trying too hard. You had insisted on having the designer of your attire make something for him too—for the occasion you'd shrugged.

His dark eyes scanned the crowd, not with the excitement of someone dazzled by the spectacle, but with the sharp awareness of a man—an agent—who didn’t miss a thing.

For a moment, you wondered what he was thinking. If he felt out of place or if he was regretting saying yes to your impulsive invitation. But when his gaze shifted to you, the faintest trace of a smile curved his lips, and any doubt disappeared.

You reached for his hand, and when his fingers closed around yours, the crowd’s focus shifted instantly.

“Who is that?”

“Is that her date?”

“Oh my God, he’s hot!”

“Someone get a name!”

The whispers grew louder as the two of you began walking toward the beginning of the carpet. Hotch’s presence next to you was a contrast to your usual presence at these events. Normally you would've given the cameras a little pre-show, before heading inside to get dressed in the collection of the evening.

And where most people—even celebrities—might have preened for the cameras in the slowest way possible, he simply carried himself with confidence, his free hand brushing against the edge of his jacket.

When another wave of flashes erupted, he leaned in closer. “This is... different,” he murmured, his voice so low you could feel it more than hear it.

You glanced up at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Different good or different bad?”

He gave you a look—half exasperated, half amused. “Let’s just say I’m starting to understand why you always come home exhausted after these things.”

Your laugh turned brighter, drawing even more attention from the photographers. “Welcome to my world, Agent Hotchner.”

The questions from the crowd grew more pointed. Someone yelled, “Are you two together?” while another voice called out, “Is this your boyfriend?”

Aaron’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over yours as if to steady you both. You could feel his discomfort at the attention, but he didn’t let it show outwardly.

As you approached the gilded double doors of the venue, you slowed, tilting your head toward him. “They’ll figure out who you are by tomorrow,” you said softly with a teasing tone.

He raised a brow. “Is that a warning?”

“More like a promise.” You smiled, squeezing his hand before leading him inside.

Once the heavy doors shut behind you, the noise from outside faded into a muffled hum. Aaron exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he looked around the space.

“Now that,” he said, meeting your gaze, “was intense.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, stepping closer to fix his tie, which had shifted slightly during the commotion. “And it’s only the beginning.”

The sun had barely begun to stream through the blinds of Garcia’s apartment, casting a soft, golden hue across her kitchen. She hummed quietly to herself, a melody she’d picked up from the latest show she had managed to binge between cases, as she went about her morning ritual.

Her bright pink robe swished around her as she moved. Everything in her kitchen had just as much personality as her; from the gleaming chrome appliances to the rainbow of coffee pods stacked neatly by her machine.

She hit the button for her usual shot of espresso, the familiar whirring sound filling the room as she reached for her favorite mug—a ceramic cat face with ears that doubled as handles and then turned to her fridge to gather all the fixings.

Her TV, mounted in the corner of her living room and perpetually tuned to a morning show, prattled on in the background. It was her morning white noise, the kind of chatter she half-listened to while focusing on more important things, like perfecting her froth-to-espresso ratio.

“...Paris Fashion Week turned heads last night with more than just couture,” the announcer’s voice chimed, accompanied by upbeat music. “A surprise appearance by a supermodel and her mysterious companion has everyone talking this morning.”

Garcia paused mid-pour, her interest piqued. Her gaze flicked to the screen, where a paparazzi photo filled the frame.

She squinted.

The image showed a stunning figure draped in a flowing gown, her hand firmly clasped in a man’s. His face wasn’t entirely visible, but his strong profile and familiar suit cut made Garcia gasp.

“No. Freaking. Way,” she whispered, her coffee momentarily forgotten.

The announcer continued, the screen now displaying the bold headline:

Supermodel Spotted With Mystery Man at Paris Fashion Week!

The next photo zoomed in on the man’s face, his stoic expression unmistakable.

“Oh my God,” Garcia said louder, her hand flying to her mouth. “That’s Hotch!”

The caption beneath the image confirmed it, sending her brain into overdrive: Mystery Man Identified as Aaron Hotchner, FBI Unit Chief.

Her half-made latte was abandoned on the counter as she scrambled for her phone. “This is not happening. This is not happening,” she muttered, her fingers flying over the screen until she found the contact she needed.

The phone barely rang before Derek Morgan’s voice came through, groggy and unamused. “Garcia, it’s not even eight, Hotch is away there's no need to wake up this ear—”

“Did you see it?” she blurted, cutting him off.

“See what?”

“Our boss!” she shrieked, pacing the length of her kitchen. “Hotch! He was at Paris Fashion Week! Holding hands with a supermodel! It’s on every channel!”

There was a pause, followed by Morgan’s skeptical laugh. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Hotch? Our Hotch?”

“Yes, our Hotch! The Aaron Hotchner! He’s on TV right now looking like James Bond at a runway show!”

Another pause, and then Morgan’s full-throated laugh rumbled through the line. “This I gotta see. Send me the link.”

Garcia was already snapping a picture of the TV screen, muttering under her breath. “I can’t believe this. He’s going to walk into work on Monday like nothing happened. Nothing happened!”

Morgan’s voice was rich with amusement. “Think he’ll bring her to the office?”

“Oh, don’t even joke,” Garcia groaned, dramatically flopping onto her couch. “This is going to be the topic of gossip for weeks. Months. Years! I need answers, Derek. Answers!”

Morgan’s chuckle softened. “Good luck getting any. You know how tight-lipped he is.”

Garcia sighed, already plotting her strategy. If anyone could get the inside scoop, it was her.

The streets of Paris were alive with the afternoon bustle as busy Parisians were heading home after a day's work. The sunlight streamed through the wrought-iron balconies and cast warm patterns on the cobblestone streets as the sun started to set. You sat at a small café table nestled in the corner of a quiet terrace, the scent of freshly baked croissants and strong espresso mingling in the air. Across from you, Aaron was the picture of peace, a man who seemed utterly unbothered by the flurry of attention he’d unwittingly garnered in just one night.

On the small table between you sat a glossy gossip magazine, its cover adorned with a candid shot of the two of you from the night before. The headline practically screamed: Supermodel’s Mystery Man: Who Is He? FBI Unit Chief Turns Heads at Paris Fashion Week!

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and bubbling as you traced a finger over the grainy image of Hotch, his sharp profile and protective grip on your hand immortalized in print. “They’ve already printed it,” you said, your tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

Aaron leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. His phone buzzed incessantly on the table, the notifications relentless, but he didn’t so much as glance at it. Instead, his focus remained entirely on you, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

“They’re calling you a ‘mystery man,’” you teased, flipping the magazine open to the full-page spread inside. The photos captured every angle of the two of you from last night—the hand-holding, the shared smiles, the way he had leaned in to speak to you amidst the chaos of flashing cameras.

“And here’s my personal favorite,” you added, pointing to a particularly flattering shot of him looking utterly smitten as you had walked down the runway in a set of silver lingerie.

Hotch’s dark eyes flicked to the image before returning to yours. “I think I prefer to keep them guessing,” he said, his voice was warm, he knew that wouldn't be the case. He reached for his coffee, the faintest trace of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Hmm,” you mused, tilting your head as you studied him. “Not sure your team agrees.” You nodded toward his phone, which buzzed again with what had to be its twentieth alert in the last ten minutes.

He sighed, a sound more affectionate than exasperated, and finally picked up the device. “Garcia,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he read a series of increasingly unbelieving messages. “And Morgan,” he added, his smirk deepening.

You rested your chin in your hand, grinning at him. “I told you they’d find out.”

Hotch set the phone back on the table without responding to the messages, his gaze softening as it met yours. “Let them talk,” he said simply, his voice carrying the conviction you adored. “Right now, I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Your chest warmed at his words, and you leaned forward, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Good,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Because I wouldn’t want you anywhere else.”

For a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, the noise and chaos of the city fading into the background below.

“Though,” you added, breaking the moment with a mischievous smile and a wink, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you on next year’s cover of GQ. You know, for the sake of balance.”

Hotch chuckled, the sound so utterly endearing, as he shook his head. “Let’s not get too carried away.”

you gotta write for your dick not the stats

Alarm cock is this anything

I am a grown ass adult and I still get nausea when I feel like I'm in trouble. They're gonna send me to the principals office and take away my toys for a week. Can you just fucking kill me instead of making me stew in my fucking anxiety

Love the horny, horny old man 🫶🏻

Descend | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: You and Jack plan out a surprise birthday party for Aaron, but it's hard to keep secrets while dating a profiler. — part 4 of (1 , 2 , 3 ... can be read as a standalone)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Younger (Of Age) F!Reader

Warnings: best friend's father trope, fluff, sassy jack hotchner, allusions to smut

Your mind was running three miles a minute as you ramble out an endless list of party supplies and worries. Jack is sitting in the passenger seat as you drive, and you're being very careful as you brake (since Jack had once told you he'd get a concussion one day from your driving).

"Streamers, balloons... oh gosh, I hope that Aaron isn't called away for a case, could you imagine that?... Oh! Do you think we should get a cake from the bakery by 8th street? He liked the cupcakes I got from there... Fuck... his birthday is in two days, why did I wait so long to get supplies!" You speak rapidly, tapping the steering wheel anxiously as Jack queues up some songs.

Your best friend raises his eyebrows in amusement and shakes his head. "You have got to calm down. My dad will like anything you do for him. Hell, you could probably just text him 'Happy Birthday' and he'll be all smiles for the rest of the day."

"This is serious, Jack!" You huff with a small worried frown. "Birthdays are so complicated." A defeated groan falls from your lips.

"Just do what I do for Leah. I get her some flowers and take her to dinner for her birthday." Jack tries to placate you, smiling a bit boyishly as he talks about his girlfriend.

You snort softly and tease him playfully. "In other words... the bare minimum?" You joke and make a right turn into the party supply store parking lot.

"First of all, fuck you." Jack quips back lightheartedly, waiting until you park the car to flick your arm.

Despite Jack's insistence that Aaron wasn't expecting anything huge for his birthday, your best friend allows you to drag him around town as you raid store shelves and make numerous phone calls to local bakeries.

Unfortunately, your mind is a prolific river of anxieties as you are suddenly hit with the realization that you're dating a profiler of all people. When the next morning rolls around, your newest concern was that Aaron would catch on to your plans to throw him a surprise party.

It was nearing seven in the morning, and it was the day before Aaron's birthday. You couldn't sleep too well, the gnawing worries of things going askew tormenting you even as you rested, twisting your stomach into knots.

Feeling a tightening against your stomach, you blush a little as you look down and remember just where you were. You had decided to spend the night at Aaron's house again, and you both had stayed up quite late.

You feel a soft kiss being pressed to the back of your neck. "Are you up, sweetheart?" His gruff morning voice fills your ears as he pulls you even closer to his body.

"Mhm... you're up early too..." You mumble back and run your hand along his arm.

"Felt you twisting and turning." He grumbles back softly as he yawns a litte, shuffling for a moment before returning to his previous movements of kissing down your neck and back.

You smile softly and the butterflies in your stomach flutter as you speak lightly. "Do you have the day off today?"

You were torn. A part of you was hoping he would so that you could spend the day with him, but another part of you hoped he'd be at the office so you could go pick up his cake and his gift.

"I do. How should we spend it, I wonder..." He says almost mischievously, his warm hand laying flat against your stomach and rubbing it before sliding lower.

"Well, unless you want to wake Jack up..." you trail off and smile widely, teasing him back by stopping his hand.

He grunts, dipping his head to kiss and suck on the junction between your neck and shoulder. That was definitely going to leave a hickey. "We can be quiet." He mumbles against your skin.

"Horny old man." You grumble playfully.

Aaron chuckles deeply, voice still a bit rough from sleep as he moves to lean over you. "Yes, yes, now let me love you."

By the time you manage to escape Aaron's sinful temptations and addicting touch, it's closer to nine am. He decides to take a shower as you head down to start making breakfast after brushing your teeth.

When you step into the kitchen, you see Jack rubbing his eyes as he sits at the kitchen island. "For Christmas I want noise cancelling headphones and for you guys to soundproof the bedroom." He muses without even looking up at you, texting on his phone.

You cringe a little and mentally kick yourself. "I'm so sorry..."

Jack waves you off, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. "I'm just pulling your leg, I was able to fall back asleep. Besides, 's not like I haven't put you through the same."

You shiver a little at the memories of waking up to Jack's varying shenanigans in adjacent rooms during trips with your friend group. "I think we should both just gift each other noise cancelling headphones."

"Yeah... well I'm staying over at Leah's tomorrow night, so go crazy." He says, smiling as he gets another text from his girlfriend. "Oh, and speaking of tomorrow, did you need me to help set up for the party?"

You groan at the thought. Ideally, Aaron would be at the office for a couple of hours today so you could go pick up some things, and then be gone until the evening tomorrow so you could set up for the party.

"Still not sure about that... Aaron doesn't have work today, and I'm not sure about tomorrow either." Your tone is low as you start grabbing ingredients from the fridge.

Jack huffs, clearly understanding your dilemma. "I can try and get him out of the house tomorrow if he doesn't have to work. Have a father-son bonding day or something."

You nod and smile. "Yes, please." You smile appreciatively.

"You're on your own today though, Leah wants to get lunch with me." Jack says playfully.

"So your usefulness does have a limit." You quip back with a deadpan look.

Later in the day, you slip away to make a quick phone call after coming up with an idea to get Aaron out of the house.

"This is Dave." You hear the older man's voice ring out.

You clear your throat softly. "Hi Dave. It's me, I need a favor."

"Ah, I was wondering when I'd hear from you." David chuckles. "Is the party still happening tomorrow?" He asks kindly.

"Yes, it is. The rest of the team is still able to make it, right?" You ask softly, keeping your voice hushed as you can hear Aaron shuffling around downstairs.

"Yep, our schedules are cleared for tomorrow. Y'know, Aaron was rushing to finish his paperwork all week, he wanted to get the weekend off to spend it with you and Jack." He says with a teasing lilt in his voice.

You wince a little in guilt and sigh. "Ah... Well, actually... would it be possible for you to call Aaron into the office for like... two hours? I need to go pick up some things for him last minute."

"He's going to bite my head off, kiddo." David muses, sounding resigned to that fact already.

"You have seniority, you'll be okay." You say and chuckle.

You hear the man sigh a little before chuckling fondly. "Alright, I'll think of something."

Exhaling in relief, you thank the man profusely before hanging up.

You slowly retreat from the quiet room, almost walking directly into Aaron's chest as you close the door behind you. "Oh!"

"There you are, honey. What were you doing in the towel closet?" Aaron asks in amusement, curiosity filling his tone. You could see the gears in his head turning as he sees your phone in your hand.

"Phone call." You explain simply, leaning up to kiss him. "Also, Jack heard us this morning." You grumble and playfully smack his chest, trying to change the topic.

Aaron frowns a little at that and rubs your back. "He needs to move out." He says jokingly while maintaining his serious expression.

Chuckling, you pat his chest and shake your head. "Now, now, we both know you'd cry if that were to actually happen."

Luckily, Dave actually manages to come up with some excuse for Aaron to drop by the office not even an hour later. Your boyfriend is grumbling the whole time he gets ready, and you felt guilty seeing his mood drop.

"He said it'd be quick, right? Just in and out." You say softly, kissing him while fixing up his tie.

"Yeah... I'll be back soon, okay?" He reassures you, cupping your cheek and stroking his thumb across your soft skin. He gazes into your eyes before bringing you in for a deeper kiss. "I love you." He whispers against your lips.

"I love you, too." You whisper back with a giddy smile, leaning into him as he runs his hands down your body.

When Aaron finally makes his way out of the house and toward his car, Jack is getting back home from his date at the same time.

Jack looks at him in surprise and smiles a bit as he takes in his father's appearance. "Hey, dad. Going to work?"

Aaron nods and glances back at the house quickly. "Just for a bit. What time should I be out of the house tomorrow?"

Jack pauses and blanches. "Uh... what?"

"So Y/N has time to set up for the surprise party." Aaron answers with a fond grin, chuckling a bit to himself.

"You knew?" Jack deflates a bit and sighs.

"Yeah, I figured it out this morning." Aaron says, remembering the way you were lost in thought all day, with Dave's 'work emergency' call just confirming his suspicions.

Jack nods and smiles a bit in defeat. "Alright... Uhm, you should leave the house at like two tomorrow. Also, can you just pretend to be surprised tomorrow? She's been super stressed these past few days."

Aaron chuckles and nods, patting Jack on the shoulder before walking toward his car, speaking up a bit as he walks. "Don't worry, I was planning on it."

True to his words, and to your absolute cluelessness, Aaron plays up his delighted surprise the next day when his team members surprise him in his living room. Though, it wasn't too difficult considering how you and Jack had transformed the house in the time he was gone.

Seeing your beaming face across the room made going to the office all day worth it. As he thanked everyone for coming, he couldn't help but think about how he'd love to spend the rest of his birthdays with you.

As the night continues, genuine surprise colors his face when you finally give him your birthday gift to him after everyone settles down in the kitchen to eat.

He flips through the booklet you hand him with complete wonderment, looking at the various professional photos you had taken of yourself posed in lingerie. The photos looked like something straight out of a magazine, and your otherworldly beauty had his knees growing weak.

"Happy birthday, honey." You whisper sweetly into his ear, kissing his neck as his mind malfunctions for a moment. "Also... we have the house to ourselves tonight."

His hand moves down to grip your hip, softly groaning into your ear. "Is it too soon to tell everyone to get out of the house?"

You smile and kiss his jaw, pulling away from him and shaking your head. "Now, don't be like that. They're here to celebrate you after all." With that, you disappear into the kitchen as Aaron gazes after you in utter worship.

"Wicked, wicked woman." Aaron mumbles to no one in particular as he forces himself to go put the booklet away to rejoin the party.

He really couldn't wait for his next birthday.

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