living inside my head

Jules | 30 | UK | MASTERLIST

[writerswritecompany]

Suggested reading: Procrastination Bingo

[losthavenmine]

Jensen Ackles as Soldier Boy The Boys - King of Hell (5.04)

[thatlittleegyptologist]

"Using an Oxford comma is a sign of AI"

bestie boo, let me fill you in on something: if you're going to take any part of 'good grammar' and randomly assign it to She's A Witch! AI, you might as well give up. It's over. You're cooked. Anyone who has spent the last decade or more learning to type properly, anyone who has spent any time writing articles/papers/essays that require you to use 'good grammar' is going to fall into that 'oh no it might be AI' trap.

Stop hunting like it's 1692. You're not going to find Goody Proctor at the ChatGPT sacrament. What you're going to do is exactly what happened back then: harming people who've done nothing wrong.

[oflights]

helpful sites for writers

i have a little collection of websites i tend to use for coming up with ideas, naming people or places, keeping clear visuals or logistics, writing basics about places i've never been to, and so on. i tend to do a lot of research, but sometimes you just need quick references, right? so i thought i'd share some of them!

Behind the Name; good for name meanings but also just random name ideas, regardless of meanings.

Fantasy Name Generator; this link goes to the town name generator, which i use most, but there are lots of silly/fun/good inspo generators on there!

Age Calculator; for remembering how old characters are in Y month in Z year. i use this constantly.

Height Comparison; i love this for the height visuals; does character A come up to character B's shoulder? are they a head taller? what does that look like, height-wise? the chart feature is great!

Child Development Guide; what can a (neurotypical, average) 5-year-old do at that age? this is a super handy quickguide for that, with the obviously huge caveat that children develop at different paces and this is not comprehensive or accurate for every child ever. i like it as a starting point, though!

Weather Spark; good for average temperatures and weather checking!

Green's Dictionary of Slang; good for looking up "would x say this?" or "what does this phrase mean in this context?" i love the timeline because it shows when the phrase was historically in use. this is english only, though; i dig a little harder for resources like this in other languages.

[garbinge]

BIO-HAZARD

Leroy Jethro Gibbs x F!Reader // Word Count: 670 Summary: Based on S2E22, Swak. When Tony opens an envelope with an unknown white substance, Gibbs gives you a call to give you a heads up. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Light angst. Bio-Hazard material mentions, banter. A/N: A little small Gibbs fic I've had in my WIPs for a while :)

When the phone rang, it was clear you weren’t expecting the news that it was ringing with. You thought it’d be a quick minute to tell you he’d be home late, again. Which never bothered you, you knew Gibbs was married to the job just as much as you. It was more of a disappointment these days than anything else. You had a few weeks off and were taking the opportunity to be home, catching up on relaxing and being still. Two things Jethro was never good at. Currently, you had decided to give baking a try, the kitchen was a disaster, and so were the brownies you were attempting to make from scratch. 

“Why do people bake again?” You answered the phone, wiping some batter off your forehead and moving to the sink to wash it off. 

You couldn’t see it, but Gibbs gave a slight smile, a disappointing one as his eyes shut. All his way of preparing to tell you as he realized how good of a mood you were in. He was able to see past your disdained comment to know despite failing at baking, you were having a damn good time doing it. 

“Oh no, you’re doing that silent brooding thing that usually means you’re gonna be home late. Look I don’t normally mind, but these are my last few days home before I’m back on the job and I’ll be the one calling you that I’m coming home late.” 

You were met with more silence. 

“Jethro?” You stopped what you were doing and grabbed the phone with a slight eagerness. 

“We got a letter sent here with white powder in it. Got opened up in my bullpen.” His voice was solemn–straight to the point. Giving you the information he had and you needed. Nothing else. 

“Jesus Christ.” You felt like you needed to be moving, grabbing your keys to go rescue him even though every logical fiber in your being knew there wasn’t anything you could do. 

“We’re on lockdown here until we know more. I’m workin’ with Duck. Everything’ll be fine.” His voice was so calm, it was so like him, if you wanted to be with anyone in a crisis, it was Gibbs for this very reason.

“You know, you say that every time and it never makes me feel better.” You fully let go of the idea of rescue now, trying to wrap your mind around what you were going to occupy yourself with while you waited for more information from him which definitely wasn’t going to come now. You had to be just as strong as Gibbs was right now. 

“But every time it’s true, right?” Now you two were talking like there wasn’t a biohazardous emergency at hand. 

You tossed your head back and forth before teasing him. “99% of the time.” 

“What’s the 1%?” 

“When you forgot our anniversary. I’ll get a last minute reservation for tonight, everything’ll be fine.”  You mocked his famous words from that one forgotten anniversary. 

“I recall everything being more than fine that night.” The power he had to be making sexual innuendos to you in a moment like this. 

“We ate goldfish and whiskey for dinner.” And the power you had to continue the conversation just the same. 

“Wasn’t talking about the food.” 

After smiling to yourself over the quiet line, you brought the conversation back to the reason he called. “Call me with updates please.” 

“Yes, boss.” 

That earned him a bigger smile from you. Always did. It made you not want to hang up the phone yet even though you knew you were on a short timeline. “How’s Abby?”

“A working wreck.” His answer came quickly, and you could tell he was on the move now. 

“Me and her both.” You took a deep sigh. “I’m gonna be at the edge of my seat all day.” 

“Work on that brownie recipe. I’m gonna need one when I get home.”

Divider by @realitycanbewhateveridesire *ੈ✩‧₊˚ 🕵️ NCIS Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @ilovemark1951 @shamelessturtlebeliever (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[garbinge]

GOOD MOOD

Leroy Jethro Gibbs x F!Wife!Reader // Word Count: 1.3k Summary: Gibbs comes home in a good mood and you decide the best way to break some not so 'good mood' news to him. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. liiiiight angst. liiiight fluff. Smoking Weed/Being High. Mentions of losing a job, violence, punching. No use of Y/N. Reader is a private investigator, married to Gibbs, and has a teenage child in this fic. A/N: Been rewatching NCIS from the beginning and I just simply forgot how much I love this show. Grew up watching some episodes when they'd be on tv running reruns but never watched from season to season before and I just jkshjkhf love it so much. So now I'm adding another fandom and character to the roster!

“You know I’m a federal agent, right?” Gibbs’s voice came from behind you along with the sliding of your back porch door. 

“Yea, but I’m not.” You smirked, holding the joint in your hand as you blew the smoke out that he was clearly smelling as he joined you in the backyard. 

“What’s with the new recreational activity?” He still had his work clothes on as he turned the patio chair around so it was next to yours. 

“Rough day at work.” You exhaled. 

“Being a private dick will do that.” He had a hint of humor in his voice as he said it. Teasing your occupation the way he would if it was anyone else.

“Investigator.” Correcting him with a smirk on your face, you continued talking. “And what can I say, there were no more special agent openings at NCIS.” 

“You’d fail the drug test anyways.” He was looking over at you, a smile wide on his face. 

“You’re in a good mood.” Your eyebrows raised, your face matching his humor. 

“Better than usual.” He shrugged and kicked his feet up on the bricks that surrounded the fire pit in front of you.

“Hm.” Turning your head back forward, you looked at the fire that was starting to die down. 

Gibbs’s face turned into a frown as he questioned you. “What’s that?” 

“What’s what?” You teased him, taking advantage of his good mood. 

“What’s with the hm?” He mimicked the noise you made. 

Letting out a laugh you dropped your head on your shoulder, “I’m debating if I want to ruin your good mood.” 

“Ah.” It was his turn now to look away and towards the fire pit. “How bad?”

“Eh.” You shrugged. 

“That’s like a 5, that’s not bad.” He was joking but his face was serious which is what made you laugh out loud slightly before deciding to spit out the news. 

“I lost my job.” 

Gibbs didn’t show any emotion on his face, just a slight nod as he acknowledged you. “Who’d you punch?” 

It never should have surprised you when Gibbs knew things without being told, but it always did. 

“Your knuckles.” He was getting up to feed the fire as he said it. 

Your eyes looked down and saw the red bruising finding it's home around your knuckles and closed your eyes as you rested your head against the back of the chair, joint still in your left hand. 

“My private dick of a boss.” 

Gibbs smirked slightly at that as he dropped a few more pieces of wood into the fire. “Enough was enough, huh?” 

“That and he called me a bitch.” That was a statement which earned you a look from him, he froze in his steps and stared up at you through his brows. “Don’t worry, I clearly took care of it.” You flashed your hand to him. 

He went back to feeding the fire as the silence fell over you two for a few minutes. Coming back to the patio chair, he sat down and placed his hands behind his head. 

“All things considered, that’s not too bad. Never understood why you worked for that asshole.” 

“I told you, NCIS wasn’t hiring.” While it was a joke, Gibbs took you seriously. 

He pointed to the joint. “I could get you in. Just have to wait a couple weeks.” 

“Nah, I’m goin’ back to my roots. Investigative journalism.” Your eyebrows raised. 

It was how you met Gibbs all those years ago, you were working on a big story, one that brought you to the NCIS headquarters during Gibbs’s first year on the job as special agent. The rest was history. 

“And now I have an in at the Naval Criminal Investigators offices if I find myself with a big Navy scoop.” 

“Pretty sure you had an in when you first stepped onto those offices.” He was smiling now, staring at you. 

“You’re still in a good mood.” You smiled back at him, both of you looking at each other as the orange tone of the fire reflected off his skin. 

“Told you, wasn’t that bad.” 

“Hold onto that feeling.” You scrunched your face up while his own face dropped. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I got the weed?” 

Gibbs's mind started running, trying to think of an answer that made sense. Putting that special agent brain to work as if it wasn’t overworked enough all day on duty. He was coming up blank, which automatically put him a few points lower on the good mood meter, stumping Gibbs wasn’t enjoyable, for anyone. 

“Where’d you get the weed?” He asked, knowing you wouldn’t tell him unless he did ask. You knew better than to interrupt Gibbs when he was working a case, interrogating someone, or even just as simple as working through a thought. 

“Your daughter.” After you said it, you took another hit from the joint, knowing you were gonna need it for his response. 

“What?!” He kicked his feet off the fire pit bricks, his arms were next to his body which was sitting up now, bent over his legs as he leaned forward all while turning to look back at you, shock–or anger, all over his face. 

“Got a call from the school today, she got caught smoking in the bathroom. The school apparently doesn’t discard of the herb on their own so they gave it back to me.” You let out a giggle at that, clearly the weed starting to work its wonders on you but also laughing at the strange policy. 

“Where is she?” Gibbs was still concerned. 

“In her room, where she’ll be for the next two weeks. I told her how her father is a federal agent and she can’t have this shit in the house.” 

Gibbs’s face twisted up in a smile at that comment. “So you, her mother, clearly are out here setting the example for her.” 

“I had to get rid of it somehow.” You lifted your hands in innocence. 

Gibbs let out a laugh. “You too high to help me with the boat?” 

“Never.” You were getting up, tossing the joint into the fire. “You gonna talk to her?” Now you were standing in front of your husband, his eyes were moving away from yours at the thought of needing to scold his teenage daughter. 

“Depends. What else you tell her?” 

“That I was still deciding if I was going to tell you or not.” 

It was the most you saw Gibbs smile in one night in a while. He was in a good mood. 

“That’s good, that’ll keep her guessing.” 

“Ain’t my first rodeo.” Your shoulders raised as you bragged, humbly. 

It was then that he placed his lips on your forehead, giving you a quick kiss as his hand moved to your hand that was littered with the memory of your awful day. His thumbs lightly caressing the bruises on your knuckles.

“You knock him out cold?” 

“I told you, it ain’t my first rodeo.”  That made Gibbs good mood turn to a great one, he never liked the guy you worked for, he didn’t like private investigators at all, but for you he tolerated them. But this not only meant he was done tolerating them but that he’d get to live with the mental image of you knocking the jerk out cold. 

“C’mon, I’m almost done with the hull, have a feeling this story is gonna get me through the finish line on that.” 

“Eh.” You scrunched your face up again. “I am high, so probably through the rest of the hull and the start of the bow. I get kind of chatty.” 

With a laugh, Gibbs tossed his arm over your shoulder and planted another kiss to your temple. Yea, he was still in a good mood.

Dividers by: realitycanbewhateveridesire ♡ 🕵️ NCIS Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 (let me know if you’d like to be added! I'm using my all writing taglist right now!)

[multifandomfix]

Caught Red Headed - Jethro Gibbs

Summary: Your crush on Gibbs gets the better of you when you go out for drinks with the team and you decide the best way to get Gibbs' attention is to dye your hair red. Come Monday morning, you realize you may have made a mistake.

Word Count: 1,185

Warnings: Some embarrassment, but otherwise a whole lot of fluff.

Oh god, what have you done? You wondered this as you looked at yourself in the mirror in horror. Friday night had suggested to you that this was a wonderful idea, but by Monday morning you were now regretting it. Not that it didn’t look good. It was professionally done on Saturday and you’d spent the rest of the weekend at home, so it looked absolutely pristine, but the fact that you’d done it at all was what you were regretting.

It came to you on your third drink. You thought of asking your coworkers their opinion, but ultimately decided it would be far more fun if it were a complete surprise come Monday. Another bad choice. Tony may have teased you the moment you said it aloud, but Ziva probably would have had the sense to talk you out of it had you mentioned it to her. Now you really wish you had.

Again, it wasn’t like it looked bad. The particular shade of red actually went rather nicely with your skin tone and even brought out the color of your eyes a bit. It was only the reason why you’d done it at all that was making it seem like such a mistake. The worst part was, you were still hesitant to admit the reason to yourself, despite it having been entirely your idea.

Logically, you knew you weren’t going to be able to hide it forever. The dye would fade in time, but it wasn’t practical for you to keep your hair one hundred percent hidden until then. That could be literal months. And you weren’t about to just cut it all off either. That would be a worse decision than the one you’d already made. So what were you to do? You had to be at work in less than an hour and you were scrambling for a solution. You stared yourself down in the mirror and heaved out a sigh. Well, you were just going to have to go into work like this. Too bad this wasn’t likely to be the one day everyone took a sick day at once.

You dressed, trying to avoid looking at your hair every two seconds, before you finally made your way out the door. Every moment you were outside you felt like everyone was staring at you. They weren’t, but you were on edge regardless. Strangers might not notice, but the minute you stepped in to work you knew someone was going to notice the change. Even worse, someone was going to ask about it.

You made it up to the bullpen with no comments, which was a welcome relief. You even got to sit down at your desk before you saw anyone from the team. You released a deep, calming breath, hoping that maybe it wasn’t going to be as big of a deal as you’d made it out to be after all. People dye their hair every day for any number of reasons, right? Why couldn’t you just want a change?

Before your cleansing breath was fully let out, you heard Tony's voice fill the bullpen. "Oh my god, look at you!" As if you needed any more attention drawn to yourself. Luckily these outbursts were normal for Tony and it hardly even turned a head your direction. Thank goodness for small favors. "Quite the change there, red. What prompted it?"

"Leave it, Tony," Ziva chastised, only a few steps behind him. "You do not always need to be so nosy."

"I have to admit, I’m kind of curious too," McGee chimed in. Great, just when Ziva had saved you, McGee had to go and ruin it.

Doing a quick check to make sure your boss was entirely absent for the moment, you contemplated telling them all the truth. Might take that huge weight off of your shoulders if you did. Then they could get it all out of their systems and you could begin to move on from your disastrous weekend decisions. Alright, now or never, you decided, seeing as you had the all clear. You opened your mouth to speak, only for your voice to be overtaken by that of your boss, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, entering the bullpen with his usual firm and commanding order of "Grab your gear."

The five of you made quick work at grabbing your things and piling into the elevator. You stood to the far back corner, holding your breath for the short elevator ride down to the ground level. The team exited one by one, leaving you and Gibbs for last. Feeling silly, you almost didn’t dare to walk past him. Perhaps you should have, because Gibbs turned around, gave you a once over and commented, "Like the hair. Now let's get a move on."

He stepped out of the elevator and you followed behind, pulling your official NCIS hat down to cover your face which was undoubtedly covered in a bright red blush that would rival your newly gained hair color. You caught up with the team, keeping your distance from Gibbs for the time being and started to observe the crime scene.

Tony, however, was observing you. "I’ve got it," Tony declared, making you jump.

"Got what," Ziva hissed, Tony clearly having startled her too, and she wasn’t an easy one to scare.

"The hair. It’s for Gibbs."

"It is not," you refuted at a volume way louder than you’d meant. Well if that wasn’t a dead give away, you didn’t know what was. Everyone around looked to you, and you felt like crawling in a hole, or maybe just going back in time and deciding not to get out of bed this morning. Tony had really hit the nail on the head. It was a well known fact that Gibbs liked redheads. You liked Gibbs, so yeah, dyeing your hair red seemed like a clever idea at the time. Now you just felt like an idiot.

"Will you all shut up and do your work," Gibbs shot back at the lot of you. Embarrassed and not wanting to cross him, you all hung your heads and got back to the crime scene in front of you. You were sad for the victim, but happy for the distraction. At least everyone was focusing on something other than you now.

Losing yourself in the work, you didn’t realize Gibbs had come up beside you. Your breath caught in your throat as he whispered in your ear. "Next time you want my attention, maybe just ask for it."

Trying to recover from the surprise, you muttered out a "Yes, boss…uh, Gibbs…umm, Jethro?"

"We'll figure that out depending on how dinner goes. My treat. We'll go right after work. Now can we work on this case without any more distractions?"

Not wanting to fumble over names again, you gave a small nod and a half assed salute, and Gibbs seemed to take that as a good enough response before moving on. Now there was only one question left in your head. Did he like you, or did he just like the hair?

For anon

Forever Tag: @borg-queer, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @icetown587, @princess-sarah-lynn, @kyraccs-blog, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart

Jethro Gibbs: @esposamultifandom, @leroyjethrogibbsgirl, @iciclesandsnow, @floresferae

[lovingbarson]

*he is a fake character so I don’t need to change my hair color* I mutter as I rock back and forth while people are waiting for the doctor to pick me up

[passionwillow]

Headcannons with Gibbs and reader who is a cute waitress that works at his favorite diner?

sTOP I love this so much???

- Working at Elaine’s Diner had its perks. The customers were always fairly kind, tips were good, and you loved to socialize with the customers.

- You’d be hard pressed to find a customer you loved to see more than that damn Jethro Gibbs.

- He seemed to have your schedule memorized, because he never failed to come in and grab coffee when you were working.

- You’d have your back to the counter, pouring a cup of coffee for the delivery driver in the corner booth and he’d slip in without a sound. You turn around with the cup in your hand and the silver haired agent is in his usual seat, blue eyes on you and that faint smile taking over his features.

- You can’t stop the smile from breaking over your own face, cheeks pink as you pour his coffee without a thought, delivering one to the man in the corner before making your way over to Gibbs.

- “Any food today, Gibbs?” Sometimes he’ll grab some food while he’s here, usually when he’s with the rest of his team, but mostly it’s coffee. You know little about what he does, just that he’s an agent with NCIS and the rest of his team are kind.

- “Nothing for me, hon. Sit.” He nods to the seat across from him in the booth, hands wrapping around the white mug. You can’t deny the flutter in your stomach, and you quickly pour yourself your own coffee before sliding in across from him, smoothing out the yellow skirt of your uniform.

- This is how it usually goes when Gibbs comes in. Coffee, him asking you to sit with him, and the conversation takes over from there. You ask about work or his team, unable to hide your fascination with his work.

- Gossip about the diner is his favorite, if he’s honest. Who is sleeping with you at work, who didn’t show up for a shift, a customer really said what? He loved how animated you became by these conversations, your eyes bright and laughter ringing through the diner.

- He always asks about your family. He knows you have a sister and little brother, your parents are both sick, and he always makes a point to check on them. It’s a sweet gesture you appreciate with all your heart, the facts he remembers those details about you.

- When he shows up with his team, you make sure to snag their booth before another waitress does, and everyone’s thrilled to see you. They’re the kindest group of people, and always ask you to sit for just a second with them and catch up.

- Before Gibbs’ leaves he always leaves a generous tip for you, more than you deserve. You can’t hide your disappointment very well when he leaves, and he can’t help but smile at the fact you love seeing him that much.

- A sweet kiss to your forehead or cheek that always sends the blood to your face follows his goodbye, with a promise he’s sure to be back later for another cup of coffee.

[julesthequirky]

nicotine

Summary: You've quit smoking. His idea, and it's hitting you hard. You need to take your mind off the cravings, and thankfully Gibbs knows the best way how. Reader is female, and short. A/N: Just started watching NCIS, and yes, rule one is always dance to the NCIS intro no matter what. Idea came from nicotine, Ella Langley.

Warnings: Tobacco products, talk of smoking, language, thigh riding.

W/C: 1,830

You were going out of your mind. Hands itching to do something. Fingers twitching for the regular ritual. The craving ran through your blood. You were keyed up, restless and unable to find a proper way to release the energy. That one thing that helped calm your nerves, was now eating at you, but it was just as well that you’d agreed to quit.

It had been his idea. Said it would help improve your health. Said that smoking would kill you eventually, but right now, one more hit sounded so damn good. When you asked what the hell you should do, he looked at you with mischief in his ice blue eyes, wearing that slight smirk on his lips, and said: “Build a boat.”

You’d supplemented the cigarettes for food, or alcohol. Cake in the afternoon dampened the intense needling for a smoke. But drinking helped smooth the rough edges in the evenings. A bourbon or two swallowed the feelings right down, leaving you heavy and sedated, but sometimes with a thumping headache in the morning and a hell of a dry mouth.

What you missed the most was the rituals. Marlboro Menthol’s were your particular brand unless you were smoking a roll-up, then it was OHM Menthol. Each had their own advantages. Each with their own rituals. Marlboro for the quick and easy hit, and the roll-up for those times you wanted to slow down and participate in the crafting of your cigarettes.

You enjoyed both. And you missed it with every fibre of your being. You missed pulling the cigarette from its pack, the snap of the lighter, the lighting of the tobacco, the feel of it against your fingers and then finally, the first long drag, inhaling the fresh and refreshing menthol taste into your lungs. Damn, sometimes it felt better than sex.

With roll-ups it was different. It had to be physically assembled. You would make this in the basement as he worked on his boat, quiet conversations on the go. It was all about the touch against your fingertips. The paper, the tobacco, the filter. The taste of the paper against the tip of your tongue as you dragged it across. Then it was back to the smooth rhythm of rolling. You’d roll and roll until you were happy, getting it as compact as you possibly could. You had a knack for it. An art for it.

You savoured the taste. Always. Eyes closing in pleasure, before exhaling. A remarkable calmness claimed you, as tension left your body, relief setting in. Pursue flavour. You had. And now you were salivating for a fucking hit.

The door slammed shut and you whirled around, nails finally relaxing. You’d dug crescents into your palm, biting into your skin as you fought the gut wrenching cravings keeping you in a chokehold.

He walked into the living room, eyes roaming over your soft appearance. Hair messy, wearing one of his Marine sweatshirts, and leggings. Barefoot, you stood there, radiating a frantic energy he could see was kicking your butt.

“That bad, hm?”

You nodded. He stepped closer, and took you in his arms, pulling you close, almost smothering your face to his chest, his hands cradling the back of your head and resting on your back, holding you to him. Catching the comforting scent of sawdust, and the metallic heat of gunpowder clinging to his clothes, you dragged your nose deeper, inhaling, hoping like hell that your nerves would calm, that the tension would just roll right off you.

“Oh, honey.” He murmured against your hair. “I can’t build a boat.” The words came out as a defeated muffle against his chest. You knew he had only been joking when he’d said it. He’d wanted you to find something to do with your hands. To keep you distracted, to keep the cravings at bay. He had thrown out all of your cigarettes, the loose tobacco, the papers, and the filters. To stop the temptation. To nip it in the bud. But you’d always been crap with your hands. You’d tried knitting, but the click-clack of the needles pissed you off so much you’d thrown them across the room. You’d tried crochet, but your fingers seemed to get stuck, twisting and winding the yarn into loops, that you couldn’t seem to unwind. Jethro had gifted you a water colour kit. He’d promised you didn’t need to be an expert. To just try. He’d help you. But work kept him late, and away from you. Away from helping you to learn to watercolour. And you’d gone crazy fighting the cravings.

He huffed a laugh, his lips touching the top of your head, a faint smile on them.

“You don’t need to build a boat, darlin’.”

You gripped his sweater, eyes closed and just breathing him in, using him as your nicotine replacement.

“Patches ain’t workin’ for shit.” You had two on each arm, had slapped them on, thinking it couldn’t hurt.

He hummed.

You knew after that hum, came the questions. The advice. You didn’t wanna hear it. Didn’t wanna get pissed, like a wasp stuck in a can. It would only exasperate the withdrawal symptoms.

“Don’t. Just...just distract me.”

“I can do that.” His words landed softly against your temple. His hands slid from your back, from your head to your waist, pulling you close. “Like this?” He whispered, and you nodded, standing on tiptoe.

His lips brushed against yours, making you wait, his nose gently nudging yours. The anticipation setting your skin alight with electricity, a new kind of want taking over.

“Jethro…”

“Crave me. Let me be your nicotine.”

Bodies pressed together, he wouldn’t let you get away. He wouldn’t let you move. He wanted you this close. Wanted you like this. His lips found yours, moving unhurriedly, moving with no sense of urgency. The tip of his tongue dragging across your lower lip, until you opened for him, your breath hitching, letting him in. Heat flared low in your gut, settling deeply. He drank you in, slow and steady. That was always the way with Jethro. He didn’t like to rush.

Your hands slid into his hair, needing, wanting more.

“Good. Like that.” He murmured over your lips. He crowded you against the wall, his knee sliding between your thighs, and lifting you closer. He always wanted you closer. As close as he could get. He didn’t care that he lifted you off the floor, he didn’t care, he just wanted you close.

You let out a groan, eyes closing, head falling back against the wall, feeling the moisture pool between your legs. Your heart hammered within the cage of your ribs, pulse humming frantically, your breath turning laboured. He didn’t mind. He wanted it this way.

He hauled you closer, hand bunching in the elastic waistband of your leggings, dragging your sensitive and swollen cunt across the powerful line of his thigh, causing friction in the most delicious way. His other hand curved under your ass, squeezing and kneading, causing tingles to fire in all directions towards your core.

He didn’t bother to drown out your moan. He knew what he was doing.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

It was like the flick of a lighter. The flame at the end of a cigarette. Those damn words lit a fire so hot in your core, it burned you alive, but you didn’t mind. The heat soared, your hips worked, grinding down on his thigh, chasing the heat, the friction, pressing the hard nub of your clit deeper against him.

His hands gripped your hips, slowing your rolls, guiding you, riling you up in the process.

“Jethro.” His name came out as a breathless pant.

Your toes curled, your eyes squeezing tight shut, as the inner muscles of your cunt clamped around nothing. You clung to his hair, his shoulders, hips riding slow and dirty on his thigh. Soaked and desperate.

A whine escaped your lips. His own brushed against your ear, praising, and encouraging you.

“You’ll get your fix.”

“Please.”

Only Jethro could make you beg. Only Jethro knew how to. It came easy to him.

“Look at me,”

You opened your eyes, snapping to his darkened blue ones.

“You want more, you better start dragging yourself across my leg until you cum.”

His hand bunched in your leggings once more, fingers close to your covered cunt. His free hand slid under your sweatshirt and up the expanse of your back. He didn’t guide you this time. No, he wanted you to work for it.

You shuddered through one particularly delicious drag, eyes shutting, and moaning. Your hands trembled, grip tightening on his shoulders, knuckles whitening. “Harder. Grind like you mean it. Like you want it.” “I want it…I want it...” You whispered, desperate, digging your hips lower, pressing your clit harder, the sensation causing your eyes to roll back into your skull, and a moan slipping from your throat. You didn’t care if you were leaving a wet patch on his leg. The heat coiled deep in your belly, your cunt squeezing around emptiness.

His hand curved over your ass again. “Jethro.” You breathed. “You feel it?” You nodded, breath ragged in the intimate space you occupied. “Good.” You cried in frustration. He was being like this on purpose. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. One low grind towards him again had the sensations rocketing through your cunt.

“Jethro!” You groaned, hips stuttering, barely hanging on.

You were close. A few more and you’d be over the edge. You ground low, each roll of your hips working towards the deepening of the coil in your gut, the friction dragging you closer each time.

“I’m close.” You panted. “I know.” His acknowledgment was quiet, calm. Typical of him to keep his composure whilst you were losing yourself in him.

Your hips bucked against his thigh, seeking your high, seeking your release. The final devastating grind set your body alight, hips rolling with urgency, rubbing yourself on his thigh, moaning out his name. His arm snaked around your waist, keeping you steady in your undoing.

Your head dropped to his shoulder, breathing hard against his sweater. You groaned, your body finally going languid in his hold.

“Attagirl.” He murmured triumphantly against your temple as you began to come down. His hands smoothed up and down your sides under the sweatshirt, his touch light and soothing in the aftermath of your climax.

“Just think, for each day you beat, each craving you pass up, I’ll be here. Ready to distract you, ready to give you what you really want.”

His lips brushed your hair as you listened. That’s all you could do right now.

“C’mon, darlin’. We ain’t done yet. I was only just getting started.”

You felt the curve of his smirk, his lips brushing your head. He hoisted your legs around his waist, hands gripping your ass as he turned and headed for the couch.

[multifandomfix]

Clause And Effect — Jethro Gibbs

Summary: You and Gibbs went undercover as a married couple and when the case wraps, you find there’s one final surprise left in store.

Word Count: 1,096

Tags: Fake marriage, angst, fluff

The wedding band on your finger is heavier than it should be, pressing into your skin with the kind of finality you try not to think about. You stand beside Gibbs in front of a small crowd of low level arms dealers and cartel affiliates, grinning through champagne and false affection.

“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant says.

Gibbs turns to you, tilting his head with that small, unreadable smile. It’s a kiss meant for the show, just enough to sell it. His lips brush yours, soft and brief, and your stomach drops anyway. Because this isn’t just another op for you. Hasn’t been since you started falling for him a year ago.

You try to remind yourself it’s pretend. But even playing pretend has its consequences.

You don’t find out until a week later, back at NCIS headquarters, that one of the cartel’s tech guys, some sneering brat with an inferiority complex and a grudge, decided to file the marriage certificate for you. As a final screw you gesture when you arrested his friends, he made sure to sneak it through an obscure Virginia loophole.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you mutter, gripping the edge of Vance’s desk like it’s going to keep you from snapping.

“I wish I were,” he says, sighing. “Because of Gibbs’ previous divorces, the state’s laws require a cohabitation period of six months before the court will consider dissolving the marriage. It’s a remnant of a post divorce fraud prevention bill.”

Your stomach flips. “So, we’re legally married? For six months.”

Gibbs leans against the wall, arms crossed, face unreadable. “Guess it’s not the strangest thing I’ve done.”

You want to scream. Not at him. At fate. At bureaucracy. At yourself, mostly, for letting yourself love someone who’ll never love you back.

Moving into Gibbs’ house is awkward at first. It smells like sawdust and coffee and far too much like him. You set your overnight bag on the bed in the guest room, forcing a smile when he looks in.

“Settling in?”

“Suppose so.” You hesitate to say the next part. “But shouldn’t I be in your bedroom, you know, in case our caseworker comes to check?”

He doesn’t argue, just nods and walks away. That’s Gibbs for you. Direct. Decisive. Distant.

You take your bag to the master bedroom and start unpacking. You hate how much you love him.

The days blur. You work your cases, file your reports, play house at night. Sometimes he cooks. Sometimes you do. Sometimes you both sit in silence, eating takeout and watching whatever game’s on.

Sometimes, late at night, you hear him moving around in the basement, sanding or carving, shaping something with his hands. You wish you could ask about it, help him even. Wish you had the right to do any of it. But you’re not his wife, not really.

You’re just the woman the law says has to share his roof and his name with for six months.

You try not to let it show. You really do. But it’s hard, loving someone who doesn’t look at you that way. Harder still when he’s so kind in the quiet moments. When he brings you coffee just the way you like it. When he remembers your birthday without being reminded. When he sits a little closer than he needs to on the couch.

It drives you mad. All these almosts. All these little things that make you think maybe—but no. He’s been married three times. Burned three times. He won’t make that mistake again. Especially not with someone on his team. You’re just temporary. Convenient. A walking clause in a law neither of you asked for.

One night, it all comes to a head. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, trying to read through a case file. Gibbs pours you a second glass of wine without asking. You offer him a tired smile. He looks like he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you say before you can stop yourself.

He pauses. “Do what?”

“This.” You motion between the two of you. “Playing house. Pretending this is normal.”

His brows draw together. “You want to move out?”

“No,” you say, your voice cracking. “Yes. I don’t know. I just—I can’t keep living like this, wanting something I can’t have.”

Silence. You hate it. You hate that you’re always the one who cracks first. The one who cares more.

You rise from the table, heart pounding. “I’ll talk to Vance. Maybe I can stay with Abby for a while—arrange something so I can be here only if I need—”

“You think I don’t want this too?”

His voice is quiet. Rough. It stops you mid step.

You turn slowly, disbelieving. “What?”

He runs a hand through his silver hair. “You think I’ve spent the last few months pretending? That bringing you coffee or learning your favorite show was just out of obligation?”

“I—” You blink, trying to process.

“You’re not one of my ex wives,” he says, voice lower now. “You’re not Shannon. Or Diane. Or Rebecca. You’re you. And I didn’t want to screw it up.”

Your heart’s pounding now, louder than ever.

“So you thought…waiting would protect us,” you ask.

He nods once. “Didn’t want to make a move unless I knew you felt the same.”

You laugh, startled and soft. “Jethro, I’ve been in love with you for over a year.”

He closes the distance in three strides, pulling you in with a gentleness that nearly shatters you. His hands settle on your hips like they’ve always belonged there.

His mouth finds yours, no longer tentative. Not for show. This time it’s real, and it tells you everything he hasn’t said until now.

Later, curled into his side in bed you whisper, “What happens when the six months are up?”

He’s quiet for a moment, then brushes his thumb over your hand.

“Well, that depends,” he says. “You planning on sticking around?”

You look up at him, hope blooming warm and wild in your chest. “That depends. You planning on making this marriage real?”

His smile is slow and rare, and it makes you feel like the only woman on Earth.

“Already has been,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Besides, it’s save a lot of paperwork.”

You laughed but swatted lightly at his chest. It was true, it would save you a lot of hassle, but you didn’t care about any of that. This, right here, right now, was the thing that truly counted.

For @lemmons1998

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-ivy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Jethro Gibbs: @esposamultifandom, @cheekygirl2309, @iciclesandsnow, @floresferae, @melliemat3416, @abitchnamedtia, @k-slater, @marit332

[passionwillow]

Soft!Gibbs who finally went back to sleeping in his bed after all those years, but only with you. He won’t sleep there alone.

Soft!Gibbs who wakes up before you, just to roll over and spoon you. Arms snug around your waist, face buried in your neck.

Soft!Gibbs who refuses to let you up. You squirm and laugh, telling him you need to throw the laundry in and start cleaning. But he just squishes you closer, smile pressed to your shoulder as his leg tangles with yours.

Soft!Gibbs who loves to kiss you. Your neck, your cheek, stopping your words in their tracks as he kisses your lips.

Soft!Gibbs who loves to play with your hair and smiles at you so soft and adoring.

Soft!Gibbs who eventually lets you get up when he gets hungry enough, making breakfast for you and tugging you into his lap to eat.

[silverfoxgibbs]

[passionwillow]

Gibbs Talking You Through It Includes…

Smut below!! 18+, age gap

Tags: @ilovemark1951

- “That’s my girl.” He purrs softly in your ear as he undresses you, hands caressing and roaming over you. He admires every curve as it’s exposed, praises and compliments falling from his lips.

- “Good girl.” He praises as you lay down on the bed for him, eyes never leaving yours as he undresses. He crawls back over you and presses his lips to yours, mouth soft but firm against yours.

- “Spread your legs for me, darling, that’s it.” His hands guide your legs apart so he can settle between them, kisses peppered on your inner thighs before his tongue glides through your folds. He’s devouring you like a man starved.

- “Don’t get all shy on me now, princess. Let me hear you.” He watches your face from between your thighs, two fingers deep inside you as his thumb rubs your sensitive bud. His fingers are teasing and stroking your g-spot, pressing harder and harder as he draws the first orgasm from you.

- “That’s it, baby, you can take it. We’re almost there, little more.” His voice and low and gruff above you as he eases his cock inside. Your walls are giving way around him as he thrusts in slow and steady, licking his fingers and slicking the base of his cock as he stretches you.

- “Don’t run away, sweetheart, you wanted this. It’ll fit, I promise.” He coos soft and soothing as your walls clench and flutter around his cock, your breathing ragged. He’s stretched and filled you so deep, his cock kissing your cervix. He’s rubbing your clit and pinching the little nub, the pleasure distracting you as he bottoms out inside you. He’s kissing your face and praising you for doing so well as his hips sit flush against yours.

- “You sound so pretty taking my cock. Those cute little moans.. Louder.” He’s thrusting deep and slow, letting you feel every inch as he bottoms out each time. Your face contorted in pleasure, legs spread wide so he can see his cock inside you, hands holding your thighs.. He’s in heaven.

- “That’s my baby, cum. Cum for me, let me see it.” He keeps the same hard pace as you cry out for release, skin smacking as he brings you to the edge and helps you over, watching the mess you make on his cock and the sheets.

- “You can give me one more, baby. I know you can.” He still hasn’t cum even after drawing two more orgasms from you. His fingers are covered in your juices, his cock and soaked, and he’s grinning like a kid as he brings you to the brink one more.

[passionwillow]

Gibbs Comforting You Includes..

- His ears are wide open, listening to everything you say and staying quiet.

- If you need to vent, he’s there. Talk it out, he’s there. Need advice, he’s there. Whatever you need, whatever it is you’re going through, he’s always there.

- Hugs hugs hugs. He’ll hug you close, squish you tight, and just hold you.

- Kisses too. Cheek, nose, temple, head, he turns into a softy with you.

- If you cry, he’s wiping your tears. Hands cupping your cheeks, thumbs wiping the tears as he studies you with those worried blue eyes. Sometimes he’ll kiss them away.

- Big on distracting you. Making you dinner, putting on your favorite movie or show, taking you out for coffee, sex.. (can’t be sad if he’s making you scream his name..)

- Soft words. He’s there for you, you’re going to be okay, you’re not alone.

[passionwillow]

I just know Gibbs would do this, Ghosting their lips against yours before pulling back with a smug smirk, making you chase them desperately.

UGH this has me feeling all types of ways.

Gibbs flipped the switch in the elevator on the way down to autopsy, the lights going dim and the cart rattling to a stop.

You looked up at him in surprise, blushing as you found him standing in your space. You’d kept your relationship with Gibbs off the radar. Even DiNozzo, who made it his business to find out everything, hadn’t caught on.

So these moments, the ones after work or hidden away during shift, was your time with him. Working in the lab certainly helped.

His lips curled into a smile as he hovered over you, leaning in slowly until his lips were mere centimeters from yours.

The anticipation sent a shiver down your spine, your skin lit with electricity as you waited. Waited for his lips to finally touch.

But they didn’t. He grinned and let his nose bump yours as he whispered. “You look beautiful today.”

He stood straight and pulled back like nothing happened, hand reaching to flip the switch on the elevator. But a soft whine left your lips before you could stop it and you grabbed his jacket, tugging him back to you.

He laughed and took a hold of your hips to steady you, molding his lips with yours as he leaned back against the wall.

Your lips moved with his in a familiar way, like he was home. His teeth grazed your lower lip ever so slightly, a smile curling his lips again as you responded, opening up to him.

He moved a hand to your cheek and let his tongue graze yours, the ding of the elevator doors opening startling you both.

The realization that he had bumped the switch came as Ducky stared at you both, a bright grin taking over his face.

“Well, don’t let me interrupt, now.”

[passionwillow]

Okay okay how about a make out session with Gibbs and you start grinding on him so he puts his hands on your waist to help guide you

😩😩😩😩 I am SCREAMING this man talks and guides you through it and you can’t convince me otherwise.

18+ Smut below!!!

Make out sessions with Gibbs are always an unhurried and sensual thing. Lips moving slow and steady together, bodies pressed together like you’re matching puzzle pieces.

He loves the weight of you on top of him, it’s a comfort. Straddling his waist, hands in his silver locks as his arms slip around your middle. His hands slipping under your (his) hoodie, gliding up and down your back.

It isn’t until both your lips are swollen from bites and your breathing is labored things start to heat up. His hands moving to your ass, squeezing and kneading as you start to kiss his neck, marking him with licks and bites as his lets out the most delicious groans.

He’s hard beneath you, practically throbbing, and you push down ever so slightly. The friction makes you gasp, and his hands tighten in your hips. Guiding you.

Slow rolls of your hips, his hands guiding you back and forth along his cock as you both pant and moan. His low, growled words, praising you and encouraging you to keep going.

You’re soaked and desperate, clinging to his shoulders and begging him for more. And he’s smiling against your neck, biting at your pulse and teasing you relentlessly like he isn’t aching beneath you.

It seems like forever before he flips you over like you’re weightless, pinning you to the couch and tearing your clothes off.

[honeypiehotchner]

jealousy, jealousy -- Ex!Hotch x Fem!Reader x Gibbs (Kinktober 2025)

Look at me. There was no world in which this was going to be a short fic. Yes there is a bit of build up but it is worth it. This is so self-indulgent it's insane!! NCIS and BAU headquarters both being in/near Quantico sent my head spinning and this was the result. You're welcome 😋

Warnings: 18+ only mdni!!, threesome, oral (m + f receiving), thigh riding, fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it irl!!! do not be like them!!!), manhandling, facefucking, double penetration, jealous!gibbs and jealous!hotch, i'm prob forgetting some

Summary: You and Hotch used to date when you worked at the BAU. You broke things off before you transferred to NCIS, but remained on good terms. What happens when your ex (and former boss) is called in to consult on a case, and your new boss realizes he has feelings for you? Can you choose between the two? Do you have to?

WC: ...9.8k don't look at me

It starts with the ding of the NCIS elevator.

Gibbs turns his head toward the sound because he isn’t exactly expecting anyone. There’s four -- yes, four -- dead Marines in the past two days, so the bullpen has been void of any witty banter and for once all of you, including DiNozzo, have had your heads down working hard to find any leads. So much so that it’s only you and Gibbs at your desks right now. McGee is helping Abby in the lab, and DiNozzo is chasing up a lead with Ziva.

Then, a gasp. From your lips. Gibbs doesn’t realize that it’s coming from you until you’re standing up and rounding your desk, a smirk on your lips as your arms cross over your chest.

“Well, well, well,” you shake your head, and the playful nature of it all has Gibbs’ head spinning. 

You’re never like that with him. With Abby, all the time. With Ziva, occasionally. With DiNozzo and McGee, most of the time. But never Gibbs. And now this stranger has you biting back a grin?

Gibbs doesn’t know who the man is, but he hates him.

The tall man in question -- who definitely has at least an inch on Gibbs, not that he’ll admit it out loud -- smiles and extends his hand toward you, saying your name with a smile just as fond as your eyes. “How’ve you been?”

“Great” comes your reply, and you forgo shaking his hand to pull him into a hug instead. “How’ve you been, Aaron?”

Aaron. So that’s his name. Gibbs hates it. It’s a stupid name. It has nothing to do with how light your voice sounds when you say it, or the way your arms wrap around him so tight. Like he’s a lifeline of yours.

“Good, you know how it is,” Aaron replies easily. “I wondered if I’d still find you here.”

“And here I thought you’d be keeping tabs on me,” you joke, “since you were oh-so reluctant to let me go.”

The man rolls his eyes at you and Gibbs balks. The one time he did that, you glared at him for a week straight. 

“NCIS is very lucky to have you.”

You laugh loudly at that, punching Aaron’s shoulder good naturedly. “You could at least try to sound sincere!” You pause, glancing to the side and catching Gibbs’s eyes.

“Wanna introduce us?” The question flies from Gibbs’s lips before he can help it, and sounds a lot more condescending than he means it to. “Or am I interrupting?” He definitely didn’t need to add that, but Aaron has an FBI badge that Gibbs has just noticed, and now he wants to know why the hell the FBI is in this building without his permission.

“My apologies,” Aaron says, stepping over and extending his hand to Gibbs. “I’m Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. Agent Fornell said he would meet me here.”

Gibbs shakes Hotchner’s hand, nodding once. “I’m Agent Gibbs,” he says. “Should’ve known Tobias was behind this.”

“I’m always by your side, Gibbs,” Fornell calls from the elevator. “Sorry I’m late.”

“I wanna know why you’re here at all, Tobias,” Gibbs deadpans. “We’re busy, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Four dead Marines in forty-eight hours,” you fill in quietly for Hotch.

“I know,” Aaron replies, though not rudely. “That’s why I’m here.”

“What?” Gibbs snaps, exasperated as he gives Tobias his best what the fuck is wrong with you look.

“He’s from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Jethro,” Fornell lets out a laugh. “You need his help.”

Like hell I do, Gibbs wants to say, but instead he nods toward the elevator. “A word.”

Fornell gives Gibbs a look before turning, leading the way. Gibbs stalks past you and your new best friend, trying not to look Hotchner up and down with threatening intent.

Once inside the elevator, he waits a few seconds after the doors close before flipping the emergency switch. 

Fornell chuckles. He’s actually laughing.

Gibbs doesn’t even look at him. “Something funny, Tobias?”

“You’ve got it bad, my friend.”

“What?” Gibbs swings his head toward Fornell, eyes narrowed.

“Don’t what me,” Tobias warns. “We married the same woman, Jethro! You think I can’t tell when the love bug has crawled up your ass?”

Suddenly, Gibbs doesn’t want to discuss any of this at all. He flips the switch.

Tobias flips it back. “Oh no, we are talking about this,” he stands in front of it. “You’ve got it so bad that she smiles at an old coworker and you’re so pissed off you have to come yell at me in the elevator?”

“Coworker?” Gibbs asks. He knew you used to work for the FBI, but that was about as far as he got in your personnel file. He didn’t care where you used to be; he cared how you were here, as an NCIS agent. 

“Yeah,” Fornell shakes his head. “Best damn agent the FBI has seen in a long time. You wouldn’t believe the hoops we tried to jump through to keep her. But she was insistent on leaving.”

Gibbs frowns. That doesn’t make much sense to him, but he supposes it won’t, since the two of you hardly ever talk about anything personal. He’s always thought that’s why he could tolerate you the most out of everyone; you never ask anything personal. You keep to yourself and keep focused on the case at hand.

“And Hotch in there,” Fornell nods back toward the bullpen. “The phone calls we got, he was trying so hard to keep her in the BAU, or in another department, but to keep her in the FBI. But again, she wanted to be somewhere new.”

“And she chose NCIS?” Gibbs asks. You’ve been here a little over a year now and he still hasn’t wrapped his head around it.

“Listen, we were just as shocked as you when she accepted the offer from Vance,” Fornell says, shaking his head. “Anyway. Why don’t we focus on the dead Marines you’ve got?”

“Why the hell did you send him here?” Gibbs counters, still unhappy. “If you know they’ve got history.”

Fornell raises an accusatory eyebrow. “Never said they have history. I just said they used to work together.”

“Same difference.”

“You need to pull yourself together, Jethro,” Tobias laughs. “Seriously, when was the last time you were like this?”

Gibbs doesn’t know. Entire lifetimes ago, probably.

Tobias concedes after a moment, sighing heavily. “You’ve got a serial killer on your hands. We both know it. And we need to figure out if he’s targeting Marines, or if it’s just a coincidence.”

“It’s definitely not a coincidence.”

“Well, that’s what we need to figure out,” Tobias continues. “And that’s what Hotch can help with.”

Gibbs scoffs, glaring at Fornell as he reaches around him to flick the switch again. Tobias lets him.

“You really should pull yourself together, Gibbs,” Fornell says. “I thought dating a coworker went against one of those rules of yours.”

Gibbs says nothing. He can’t say anything. Because the second the elevator doors open again, he hears you laughing.

Fornell doesn’t even have time to get through his warning before Gibbs is stalking over, standing just in between the two of you. “Why are we laughing when we should be working?”

Your reply is immediate and not at all full of any of the joy he just heard. “I wasn’t sure if he was cleared or not, boss. Since you ran off with Agent Fornell.”

“He’s cleared,” Fornell supplies. “And Gibbs is happy to accept the help.”

You snort.

“Something funny?” Gibbs asks, cocking his head at you. 

“Nope,” you shake your head, staring him down just as unflinchingly. “Shall we get Hotch caught up to speed? Or do you want to continue wasting time by invading my personal space?”

Gibbs’s eyes narrow. He glances between your eyes, dares a glance at your lips that are just barely hinting a smirk, before he nods. “Let’s get started.”

+++

You’ve got no idea what is wrong with your boss, but it’s starting to get old.

It’s been barely a day of having Hotch here and Gibbs’s mood has only gone further and further south. 

You think solving the case will help, but when he doesn’t even show a hint of improvement after the arrest, you’re ready to lose it on him.

Hotch takes the unsub, as he calls them, to the Quantico FBI office, which you’re surprised Gibbs agreed to, but he seems so resigned to it all now.

“Looks like I’m riding with you,” you quip, yanking on the passenger door. “Unless you want me to walk back to the navy yard.”

Gibbs just barely smiles. “Get in.” 

It’s more than he’s given you in a day, so you’ll take it.

His mood lightens more as he drives, and you realize it’s because Hotch isn’t here. It’s because it’s just you two, and Hotch is busy for the next few hours at least.

You’ve had your suspicions about Hotch being the cause of Gibbs’s bad mood, but for the life of you, you can’t figure out why. It can’t be that you and Hotch used to date because, well, why would that matter to Gibbs? You don’t even think you’ve mentioned that to him, though, knowing Gibbs, his gut probably told him.

You and Hotch dated for a bit when you were at the BAU, but it never went anywhere serious. You were looking into a transfer completely of your own volition when Hotch told you he wasn’t sure he was ready to take your casual dates to the next level. You didn’t blame him; you had kind of expected it. His wife died just a year prior. You were happy to go on dates and help him feel normal again, get his footing in the dating world, and for what it’s worth, you had a great time. There was no bad blood between the two of you when it ended.

So it can’t be that Gibbs is doing his weird overprotective thing that he sometimes does, and it can’t be that he’s interested in you because that’s just absurd -- Gibbs, of all people?

Unless it’s not?

“Can I ask you something?”

“Just did,” Gibbs replies, just as you expected. 

“What’s the matter with you?”

He laughs, “A--”

“A lot, yeah, I know,” you cut him off, and his laugh stops abruptly.

He glances at you, then back at the road, lifting his hand off the wheel in surrender. “Alright. What did I do this time?”

“What haven’t you done, Gibbs?” you say back. “You’ve been in a foul mood -- worse than usual -- and it didn’t get this bad until Aaron showed up--”

“You know I don’t like the FBI--”

“Bullshit, Gibbs, you put up with Tobias, you took me in--”

“Yeah, because we stole you from the FBI--”

“I wanted to transfer!”

“Why?” he yells. “Tobias tells me you were the best agent the FBI has seen in a long time and you what? Wanted to leave?”

“I needed a change of pace--”

“Why?”

“Why are you so interested all of the sudden?” you shout back at him, turning in your seat to face him. “Is this about Aaron?”

“Is it?”

You scoff, pissed off and turn to face forward again. “I didn’t leave the FBI because of a man.” You cross your arms over your chest, muttering, “Might leave NCIS because of one though.”

You don’t mean it. He knows you don’t mean it. The statement hangs heavy between the two of you all the same. 

Your jaw ticks from clenching it so hard. “Since it’s so interesting to you, yes, Aaron and I briefly dated. I was already looking into a new job when we decided it had run its course. It wasn’t anything bad, he didn’t cheat or break my heart, so you can stop acting like you need to intimidate him.”

“I’m not--”

“You are,” you cut him off again, at this point just because you know how much he hates it. “And I don’t know what’s the matter with you, but you need to quit it. I don’t know why you’re acting like-- like you’re jealous or something, but it’s ridiculous.”

“Jealous?” Gibbs’s voice raises an octave. 

“What else am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe I’m just in a bad mood.”

“Right. A bad mood that so conveniently started when you saw me greeting an old friend.”

“Well, as you said, the two of you weren’t just friends--”

“Oh my god,” you laugh because really, this can’t be happening again, but it seems it is. He has feelings for you. He just won’t admit it. Almost exactly what happened with Hotch, though you forgave him long ago for it given the circumstances. Gibbs is just being difficult for the sake of it. “I have a type. Or a magnet attached to me somewhere that pulls men like you.”

He parks in the lot outside NCIS, aggressively shoving the parking break into place. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Figure it out, Jethro,” you snap, throwing the door open and stepping out. “I’m going home.”

“Hey! I didn’t say you were done for the day!” 

You lean your head back down, smiling at him sweetly. “I didn’t ask.” You slam the door so hard that it makes Gibbs curse. 

But he doesn’t go after you. He’s really done it this time, so he lets you go, while he figures out how to fix it.

+++

God, you don’t know what’s gotten into him. 

You’ve had some feelings toward Gibbs for a while now, but you resigned yourself to never acting on them, especially not after Aaron.

But damn if it isn’t hard to not think about it, especially when Gibbs gets jealous. 

Which he obviously is. You don’t care what he says. You’ve always suspected your feelings might be mutual but that he had resigned himself in a similar way, so you never thought much of it. But after that conversation in the car?

He is jealous. And he can’t stand it. 

It might be more amusing than it is if he isn’t such a dickhead about it all, but you digress. 

You make it home just in time to see a text from Aaron. All finished up here. Still on for dinner tonight?

You bite back a grin as you reply. Always. 

If Gibbs won’t get his head out of his ass, you will at least do yourself the favor of chasing the high you’ve found these last two days with Aaron. Time has passed, and if you’re reading things right, it seems like he wants to try again. Or, at the very least, wants to try again for tonight, and you’ve been without for so long that you’ll take it. Happily. 

You hurry inside your apartment to shower and change into your most subtle-not-subtle ‘I want to have sex with you’ outfit and start perusing what food to order in. You don’t have the energy (or resources, your fridge is bare) to cook, so takeout it is. 

You’re midway through scrolling an online menu when you hear knocking.

You check the peephole and try not to grin. “Hey stranger,” you say as you pull open the door. 

“Hi,” Aaron replies, eyes immediately darting to your chest before back up to your face. “You look nice.”

“Thank you,” you reply. “Come on in. I see you brought something.”

“You think I’d come over empty handed?” He shuts the door behind him and shrugs his suit jacket off his shoulders, hanging it on one of the hooks. “I know better than that.”

“I know you do,” you murmur, taking the flowers from him. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do,” he says, and for some reason, you think he means it for many things. 

As you work to arrange them in a vase, he settles himself against the counter next to you. 

“What’s on the menu for tonight?” 

“Takeout of some kind,” you chuckle. “I’m way too tired to cook.”

“Fine with me,” he says, pulling out his phone. “Craving anything specific?”

You hum, looking up at him through your eyelashes, in the way you remember always used to get to him. “Surprise me.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes darken as he nods. “Okay.”

You have no idea what he orders, but after a minute or so, he sets his phone down, and goes back to watching you.

“You’re staring again,” you say, trying not to smile down at the flowers. “You only do that when you’ve got something on your mind, so. What is it?”

“The BAU wants you back.”

“Oh,” you raise your eyebrows. The double meaning isn’t lost on you. “The BAU wants me back now, do they?”

“They do.”

“Well then,” you turn your head, looking up at him with a smile. “What’s their offer?”

“Dinner,” he says simply. “Flowers.”

“I think they can do better than that.”

“I think so too,” he says softly, hand sliding along the counter until it meets yours, lacing your fingers together. “I’ve missed you.”

You smile. “I’ve missed you too,” you admit. “Probably more than I thought. Working together the past couple days brought back a lot of memories.”

He hums, pulling you closer, settling his hands on your waist. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Remember that case in Alaska?” you whisper, moving your hands across his chest, up to his shoulders, feeling the warmth of him through his dress shirt. The warmth you’ve craved since the last time you touched him. “That little inn was tiny.”

He smirks. “And you took one for the team by rooming with me.”

“Someone had to,” you chuckle, tipping your head back a little, looking up at him, practically goading him. “That was our first night together.”

“Purely for survival,” he reminds you. “It was cold.”

You nod seriously. “Oh, yes, I remember. But you’re practically a human furnace.” One hand slides from his shoulder, up his neck, cupping his jaw. “The BAU doesn’t want me back, do they?”

He shakes his head. “Just me. They don’t get to have you like this.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And you do?”

His hands squeeze your waist, and he’s already leaning in. “For tonight?”

“Tonight,” you promise, breath hot as you meet his lips halfway.

It takes only seconds for your bodies to remember one another. For you to remember how he likes to be kissed, for him to remember how you like to be lifted onto the counter, with him crowding between your legs.

He’s already hard, grinding into you and you gasp, spreading your legs wider to accommodate his frame. Your hands are all over him, reacquainting yourself with his arms, his shoulders, his hair that you love to pull because of the growls it earns you from the back of his throat.

Aaron pulls back from your lips to latch onto your throat, to that spot that he knows will elicit a whimper, and it still does. He gets high off it, off of all your noises, off of the way you lock your ankles around him, canting your hips into his like you can’t get him close enough. He wants this to last, but God, he’s missed you.

You tug on his hair until he’s back in front of your face, pupils dilated, lips already rosy and spit-slick. You crack a smile, seeing him like this, and he’s dazed, already leaning back in, wanting to taste that smile and store the memory forever.

“I want you,” you whisper to him in between kisses. “I want you, Aaron, it’s been too long.”

He inhales sharply, squeezing your body against his. “I’ve thought about you every day,” he admits. “Every day I’ve wondered why I didn’t tell you we should keep seeing each other since you weren’t going far--”

His words end there, abruptly, because someone is knocking on your door.

“Is that the food already?” you ask. There’s no way you two have been making out for that long. 

The knocking only grows louder. And more familiar.

“Want me to answer it?” he asks.

“No, no, I’ve got it,” you mutter, hopping off the counter, hoping to God that it is not who it sounds like. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says, watching you as you walk away. He lingers in the kitchen, just within earshot, so if the person turns out to be a nuisance, he can step in. If you need him to.

You clumsily try to fix your clothes and face before looking in the peephole and-- Fuck.

“I know you’re right there,” Gibbs’s voice calls from the other side of the door. “And I know you’re mad at me.”

Aaron’s voice from the kitchen “Is that--” just as you pull the door open with a slight grimace.

“Jethro,” you greet him dryly. “What now?”

“Peace offering?” he asks, holding up a bouquet of flowers in one hand and bourbon in the other. “I’m sorry for being an ass today. And yesterday. And all the time.”

You can’t help it, you smile, taking the flowers from him. “Thanks.” You pause. “Look, this is-- Well, this is sort of awkward--”

Gibbs interjects. “What the hell is he doing here?”

You sigh, knowing that must mean Aaron has moved into view behind you. “He’s here for dinner. And…”

“And?” Gibbs presses, and then starts laughing, mostly at himself. “God, I show up with your favorite flowers and the only bourbon you like and he’s fucking beat me to it.”

“Don’t be like this,” you hiss, only feeding off of his attitude. “You’ve had plenty of time to bring me flowers and you never did--”

“He let you walk away once and what? Now you’re just gonna go right back to him?”

“I’m not going back to him,” you snap, feeling Aaron’s presence looming closer behind you now. “And even if I was, it’s not your business.”

“What does he have that I don’t?” Gibbs asks, and for a moment it sends you back on your heels. He sounds so desperate. “He touch you better than I do?”

“I wouldn’t know,” you whisper. “You’ve never touched me the way I want you to.”

“Do you want me to?” he whispers back, a dangerous look in his eyes. “Because I will.”

You nod slowly.

Gibbs shakes his head at you. “I need words, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you can barely get it out. “Come inside.”

It feels like some twisted fate, that when you finally have Gibbs at your door, confessing his damn feelings, you already have your ex in your kitchen, and have already had his tongue in your mouth.

But Gibbs comes in anyway, he shuts the door and flicks the deadbolt. He won’t be leaving soon.

“Is everything okay?” Aaron asks, with an edge to his voice that you know well, but you don’t want right now.

“Both of you, in the living room,” you instruct, moving past them to set the flowers in the kitchen. “Now.”

Both men share a look before doing what they’re told, while you busy yourself with finding another vase to put this bouquet in. You can hear them both pacing in the living room, but they aren’t saying a single word to one another. Which is fine. You don’t need them to speak to each other. You just.

You need a moment to figure out if what you’re about to suggest is such a wild, crazy idea that you’d be better off just kicking them both out.

But that’s the thing. You want both of them. You don’t want to choose. Why should you have to choose?

You fill a glass with water and guzzle it down, taking a deep breath. Worst case scenario, they say no. Or one of them does, and leaves, and you still get the other. Or they both leave.

Christ. 

You take one more breath to compose yourself before you head into the living room. Neither of them are sitting, but they both come to a standstill and face you when you enter. They’re so similar in that respect, it almost makes you smile. If you weren’t so nervous.

“Okay,” you begin, wringing your hands. “I’m about to suggest something, and you can tell me no if it’s too crazy or if you just don’t want to do it. Got it?”

“Got it” and “Okay” echo from them.

You stare at them both, raking your eyes over their frames. You really do have a type, and that revelation would be embarrassing if you didn’t have a bigger issue on your mind.

“I want both of you,” you blurt. “I think I’ve made that much obvious. But,” you pause when you can see their confusion brewing, “I don’t want to choose.”

Gibbs shifts on his feet. “What?”

Aaron’s eyebrows furrow. “What are you saying?”

He, of all people, knows exactly what you’re saying, but you know what he’s doing. He’s making you spell it out.

“I want both of you,” you repeat. “Tonight. At the same time. All three of us.” You pause again, trying to gauge their reactions, but in typical Aaron and Jethro fashion, you don’t get much. “I know it’s weird--”

“It’s not weird,” Gibbs stops you there. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“I don’t know how to make it any clearer,” you chuckle, the nerves starting to melt away since neither of them seem upset or look like they’re about to run. “I didn’t expect you to come here tonight, Gibbs, but with both of you here, I don’t want to choose.”

“You want us to make the decision for you?” Aaron prompts.

Gibbs smirks. “Like a competition?”

You roll your eyes, starting to lose your patience. “If that’s the only way you two pigheaded alpha males will agree to it, then fine.”

Gibbs whistles and Aaron’s eyebrows raise sky-high. The men share a similar look, somehow having a silent conversation with one another.

“Did you hear that?” Gibbs asks Hotch, nodding his head toward you.

Aaron nods slowly, his eyes starting to grow darker again. Fucking shit. You’re in for it now.

“That’s no way to talk to the men you’re practically begging to touch you,” Gibbs continues, slowly stalking toward you.

“I don’t beg for anything, you know that,” you snap, hoping you come across as unbothered, but your body betrays you as your feet take steps backward. 

“Maybe not right now,” Gibbs says. “But you will.”

You don’t make it far, and Gibbs cracks a smile when you stumble into the wall, giving him easy access to pin you there, both hands on either side of your shoulders. You swallow thickly, your breaths coming shorter now. He’s been this close to you before, but never like this, never had you licking your lips. His eyes follow the movement.

But still he doesn’t kiss you. The bastard backs away from you.

“I interrupted you earlier,” Gibbs says to Hotch, waving him over. “It’s only fair that you pick up where you left off.”

Not that you don’t want that, “But--”

Gibbs holds up his hand, silencing you only for a moment before you come back to yourself, the foggy haze fading. “But you were supposed to kiss me!”

“No, because that’s what you want, and you’re not going to get what you want with the attitude you have right now,” he says simply, stepping aside and shrugging his coat off his shoulders, folding it over his arm. “Go on, Hotch. Go back to what you were doing.”

Gibbs leaves the room, heading back into the hall to hang up his coat. You hope.

Aaron crowds your space again, holding your chin gently in between his thumb and forefinger to guide your eyes to his and away from glaring at Gibbs. “Are you sure about this?” he asks.

You nod furiously. “I am.”

“Okay,” he says. In one swift movement, he’s lifting you into his arms and backing you against the wall again, kissing you sweeter this time. It’s intoxicating. You roll your hips against his abdomen as you tug at his hair, his hands wandering all over your back, but keeping you secure.

You think you’ve got their number, that Gibbs is going to essentially be the mean one and Aaron the sweet one, but then Aaron is putting you back on your feet too soon and stepping away from you. Gibbs comes back into the room, rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, sharing a look with Hotch.

You look between them, bewildered, chest heaving. “What?”

Gibbs chuckles. “She is so impatient.”

“Tell me about it,” Aaron agrees with a smile, undoing his tie and tossing it on the chair. “What do you think?”

“Hello?” you huff, annoyed that they’re having a full conversation as if you’re not standing right here.

“I don’t know, I was thinking we could--”

You tune out the rest of Gibbs’s words with another eye roll, deciding to take matters into your own hands once again. If they want to act like you’re not here, then you’re going to act like they aren’t here. 

You reach for the hem of your shirt and tug it up and over your head, tossing it onto the chair with Hotch’s tie. Both of their words stop abruptly, but you don’t even grace them with a look as you hum to yourself and work your pants down your legs. 

You’re just about to reach for the clasp on your bra when you’re practically manhandled into their space, Aaron’s chest against your back with his arms wrapped tightly around you, pinning your arms to your sides.

“Are you finished?” Gibbs asks, leaning down to meet your eyes. 

“Depends,” you squirm, but Aaron’s hold is too strong. “Are you two going to start paying attention to me?”

“Oh, is that what you want?” Gibbs smirks. “Fine.” He nods toward the couch and it’s all Aaron needs before he’s walking you over.

It sends a thrill up your spine, sitting in Aaron’s lap on the couch, still firmly pinned. He works his knees in between your thighs before spreading his legs, which in turn only spreads yours impossibly wide and Gibbs--

Gibbs kneels before you, looking up at you with a hunger in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. It only makes you squirm more, though you know it’s useless.

He doesn’t immediately put his mouth where you want him the most, and you don’t know why you even expected him to, considering he’s so dead-set on teasing you. Instead, he presses the gentlest kisses to your inner thighs, one hand wrapping securely around your ankle while the other toys with the edge of your panties.

You toss your head back onto Aaron’s shoulder, hoping you don’t headbutt him in the process. 

“Something wrong?” Aaron chuckles into your ear. “I thought this was what you wanted?”

Your back arches when Gibbs mouths at your core through your panties, and you swear you can feel him smiling. “It is, I just--”

“What do you want him to do?” Aaron presses. “Tell him. Use your words.”

“Put his-- Gibbs, put your mouth on me--”

“Already am, sweet girl.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t.”

“You’re being a bastard on purpose.”

“I always am.”

“Just-- Fucking--” You fight weakly against Aaron’s hold. “Not through my panties--”

“Ohhh,” Gibbs acts like it’s only just dawning on him as he hooks his thumb into the fabric and pulls it aside. “You mean like this?”

You lift your head to look down at him, nodding frantically. “Like that.”

What you don’t expect is for Gibbs to keep his gaze locked in yours as he leans forward, his tongue darting out to massage your clit. It sends such an electric shock through you that your hips buck involuntarily, chasing his mouth, and he just laughs, leaning away from you.

“You are wound up, Jesus, how long has it been since you’ve been with somebody? Don’t answer that.”

You chuckle, your head lolling back onto Aaron’s shoulder so you can turn and whisper to him, “No one since you.” Because it’s true. 

But you hadn’t told Aaron that, and the shock is evident on his face. Gibbs senses the moment though and ruins it promptly, finally latching onto your core and flicking your clit with his tongue.

He starts at a rapid pace, one you aren’t prepared for, and you cuss into Aaron’s neck. You have no idea how he knows it, or what tells you give off, but at the exact moment when you feel it, Aaron says, “She’s close.”

Gibbs pulls back from your core, licking lazily as he goes. “Already?”

“Well not anymore,” you grumble, glaring up at Aaron’s jaw. “Asshole.”

“You have a smart mouth on you today,” Gibbs says, pinching your thigh just enough to sting. “Up.”

You’re surprised when Aaron’s arms go lax and he pushes you onto your feet before following you. Gibbs takes Aaron’s spot on the couch and then motions for you, but you don’t move.

“Come here,” Gibbs reaches up and tugs you back down, positioning you so you’re straddling his thigh and facing away from him. “Here’s what you’re gonna do,” he pauses, untwisting the strap of your bra in a sweet gesture that doesn’t match his words, “since you desperately need to cum but need something to do with your mouth, you’re going to ride my thigh and suck him off. How does that sound?”

Euphoric. Surreal. You cannot believe your ears right now.

Gibbs’s hands squeeze your hips. “I said how does that sound?”

“G-Good,” you squeak out, your hands already reaching for Aaron’s hips to pull him closer. He smirks down at you, cupping your jaw as you unbuckle his belt with ease and work his pants and boxers down as far as they need to go. His erection springs free and it’s just as you remember, with the same vein you love to run your tongue over, and the same slight curve to it that your vibrator doesn’t have. 

Aaron thumbs at the corner of your mouth. “You’re drooling.”

“Sorry,” you say instinctively, and behind you, Gibbs lets out a laugh.

You’re too entranced to even be angry at him for laughing at you. 

“Come on, honey, there you go,” Aaron says, voice syrupy sweet as you open up for him and take him into your mouth. “That’s my good girl.”

Your hips instinctively rock on Gibbs’s thigh at that, searching for some friction, and again, he laughs. “Of course you like being called a good girl when you’ve been nothing but a brat since we started.”

You hum around Aaron’s length, not even caring that Gibbs is taunting you because his hands are on your hips, helping you move, and you can feel him flexing his thigh.

Aaron lets you take as much as you want at first, but you feel it when he starts wanting more. His hand that was once cupping your jaw slowly moves to the back of your neck, just resting there at first. You take more of him, letting the tip hit the back of your throat before backing off and doing it again. His fingers tighten against your skull and you open your eyes, looking up at him, giving him the permission he needs.

“Fuck” is all he gets out before both hands are on your head, guiding you, not forcing, but helping. You hold onto his thighs and pull him in more, taking him down your throat and holding him there when he tries to move you away. You can feel his legs trembling in your hold before you finally back off, just to take him deeper again. 

Gibbs’s hands never leave your hips, rolling you right where you need it most, wishing you were riding his cock right now instead. He can’t decide if he wants to feel your mouth on him next or if he wants to go straight to being inside you. But the noises you’re making-- You’re enjoying this, giving Aaron head while letting Gibbs maneuver your body against his thigh. He has no doubt you’re soaking through your panties and probably leaving a wet spot on his leg, but he doesn’t have it in him to care.

“Close, honey,” Aaron warns. “If you want me to stop--”

Your response is to pull him in tighter, refusing to let him leave your mouth until he cums down your throat.

The second you feel him twitching in your throat, your hips start moving at a frantic pace, and Gibbs lets you chase it, wants to feel you come undone like this, just from rubbing on his thigh. When Hotch spills down your throat, you feel yourself shaking with your own orgasm, nowhere near as powerful as his, but enough that you’re taking him deeper into your throat, relishing in the feeling.

Hotch pulls back so just the tip rests on your tongue, letting you gently suck him clean, until he can’t take it anymore, hissing from the sensitivity. You’re licking your lips, smiling up at him lazily while still feeling Gibbs’s hands roaming your body.

“Is that what you needed?” Gibbs asks.

You nod, turning around in his lap so you’re straddling him and the obvious bulge in his pants. “Wanna do the same to you.”

Gibbs smirks, stroking your cheek. “Oh, no, sweet girl, I think I wanna be inside you first.”

A flash of surprise crosses your eyes, but you nod. “Kiss me first?”

“Alright,” Gibbs relents, cupping the back of your head and pulling you in.

You get lost in it, in the feeling of Gibbs’s lips finally on yours after almost a year of teasing one another, a year of him getting up in your face and you wondering just how bad the consequences might be if you closed the gap. Now, it’s finally happening, and you don’t want to miss a single second.

Aaron flops into the chair beside the couch, spent and in a daze after having your mouth on him again.

You’re too busy kissing him, sloppy, hazy, like you want to eat him, to notice Gibbs has cracked an eye open and started smirking at Hotch.

“Need a minute, big guy?” Gibbs chuckles, letting you kiss all over his face instead.

“Once you feel her mouth, yeah, you’ll need a minute,” Aaron says, all breathy the way you remember him being.

You pull your lips away from Gibbs’s jaw to smile lazily at Hotch. “Still good?”

Aaron nods seriously. “Of course, honey.”

Something about it makes you feel downright giddy, being the one to make Aaron Hotchner of all people have such a dazed look on his face and taking heavy breaths to regain his composure.

Your attention is on Aaron for a moment too long, though, and Jethro wants it back. He turns your head back to him and claims your lips again, licking inside your mouth and swallowing your moans. 

Without another moment’s hesitation, Gibbs spins you and has your back to the couch, his body hovering over yours. He presses his erection down into your core, barely keeping his eyes from rolling in the back of his head at the feeling. As much as he’s been teasing you, he’s been edging himself, too.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pushing yours up to meet his and he groans, both hands darting out to pin you down.

Your hands have a mind of their own, reaching for his belt and yanking it open so quickly that he hardly realizes what you’re doing until you’ve done it. Clearly you’ve had a lot of practice, no doubt with the man sitting beside you with his head tossed back and his eyes closed, and the thought makes Gibbs’s blood boil again.

So what if he’s jealous? So what?

He lets you work his pants down before he finishes the job, shoving them aside onto the floor, but leaving his boxers, much to your annoyance. One hand snakes down to your core, into your panties, and you’re squirming again.

“Sit still,” he chides.

“I don’t want your hand, Jethro.”

“Well, too bad,” he snaps back. “I’m not a moron. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” you whine. “I like the stretch.”

A chuckle leaves Aaron’s lips, and Jethro’s eyes snap to meet his, daring him to say something.

He does. “She’s a menace. She hates it, but you just have to finger her first while she squirms all over the place.”

You pout. “You’re supposed to tell him it’s fine and that I don’t need it.”

“Sorry honey,” Hotch says, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You relent, not that you have much choice, as Jethro works two fingers inside you to start. There’s a slight stretch, the pressure utterly delicious as he thrusts them slowly. He waits a second before adding a third and your back arches into him. You hear him grin.

“She really does like it,” Gibbs says, in awe. He teases you by adding his pinky, and the moan you let out practically echoes off the walls as you clench around him. “Atta girl-- Oh you liked that. I’ve said that to you at work, and the whole time, you’ve gotten off on it, huh?”

You nod against the couch cushions, too blind with the pleasure from his fingers and just the thought of him being inside you soon.

He leans over you, surprising you since your eyes are closed, his lips finding yours and kissing you hot and heavy. He can feel your walls fluttering around his fingers and he knows then that has to make you cum again. His thumb circles your clit and your body jerks, a moan ripping itself from your chest.

“Come on,” he whispers against your lips. “You can do it. There you go, there you go.”

You shatter around him just as he curls his fingers just right, his mouth covering yours to taste the whimpers that leave you, to keep the sounds secret, as if they’re just for him, as if the man beside you hasn’t heard them before.

He slowly slides his fingers out, working his boxers down and away, pulling your panties down and gently laying them on the floor. There’s a question in his eyes, about whether to go search for a condom, and you shake your head. It’s enough to undo him.

Just as Gibbs nestles the head of his cock right where you want him, someone is knocking on your damn door again.

You jolt, eyes going wide and Gibbs stilling above you. Aaron, on the other hand, is calm. 

“I’ll get that,” he says casually, standing and adjusting his pants. “Dinner.”

Your eyes fall shut as you curse under your breath. You fucking forgot he ordered dinner. 

Half of you expects Gibbs to move off of you, but he doesn’t. He readjusts. He pushes the head inside and your eyes fly open, gaze locking with his. There’s another question in his eyes. 

When your gaze doesn’t waver, he presses forward, and your eyes roll back. Your jaw drops open in a moan that Gibbs covers just in time with his hand.

You hear Hotch at the door, chatting so casually with the delivery person as he accepts the food. You bite down on your lip to stifle your moans as Gibbs settles inside you, pressed against the deepest parts of you.

He rocks his hips experimentally, listening for your breaths and taking note of when you clench around him. He keeps his movements slow because he can tell you are loud and he doesn’t exactly want the delivery person hearing you.

Once the door shuts and Aaron walks back into the kitchen, though, all bets are off. Gibbs pulls nearly all the way out before practically slamming back into you, so much so that you see stars from pure pleasure. The head of his cock nudges against your g-spot with every pass and it’s too much--

“It’s not too much,” he chuckles, making you realize you’d said that out loud. His hand slides from your jaw to gently rest around the side of your throat, just holding you. “You can take it.”

Your head thrashes against the couch cushion as the pleasure builds and builds. You grip his arms tightly, trying to warn him but no words come out, only mindless mumbles and whines.

“I know, I know,” he soothes, one hand snaking down to rub circles on your clit. The touch practically lights your body on fire and then you’re clenching around him so hard that his rhythm falters. “Jesus.”

“Cumming,” you try to warn him, but it’s already happening.

“I can feel it-- Jesus, you’re trying to--” Gibbs doesn’t get to finish his sentence before his orgasm takes over, his hips pressed against your pelvis as he lets go inside of you. You squirm against the feeling, the warmth only prolonging your orgasm as you grind your hips down onto him, milking him for all he’s worth.

He grips your hips in both hands, forcing you to stop. “Sit still,” he says through gritted teeth. You feel another twitch as more cum leaks into you and you groan.

“Feels good,” you whine, trying to roll your hips again, your body not done yet, wanting to chase that feeling and have more. “Please?”

“Seriously?” he laughs above you, kissing your jaw, under your ear, your lips. “Give a man a minute to recover.”

“She wants more, doesn’t she?” Aaron’s amused voice comes from the kitchen.

“Y-Yeah,” Gibbs’s voice is shaky from feeling you clench around him. “Is she always like this?”

“Usually,” Hotch says, no doubt smiling.

But you’re not amused. Gibbs is still half hard inside of you and pressed right against your g-spot, and you want another. You want more.

“Please,” you pout. “Please, keep moving.”

He pulls out.

You have to fight the urge to dig your nails so hard into his shoulders that you draw blood.

“You gonna help me?” Gibbs calls out to Hotch. “Or are you tapping out?”

“I’m not tapping out,” Hotch says, deadly serious, and voice sounding closer now. “I was putting the food away for later. Move over.”

Gibbs puts up no fight (surprisingly) as he shifts off of you, gesturing for Hotch to fill the space. Your legs are a little numb from how hard Gibbs fucked you, so you don’t even bother trying to move.

A lazy smile flirts on your lips when Hotch hovers over you. “Hey you.”

“Hi honey,” he smiles. “Doing okay?”

You nod, reaching up to hold his face, pulling him down for a kiss. “Doing great.”

“Need a break?”

You shake your head.

“Need some water?”

You start to shake your head again, but Gibbs calls out from the kitchen, “Got it.”

You roll your eyes. “C’mere.”

Aaron lets you pull him down for more kisses, his tongue moving languidly against yours. Your arms loosely hook around his neck, back arching into his touch as his hands squeeze your waist, your breasts, thumbing over your nipples, fanning the fire already once again.

“Alright, get off her,” Gibbs’s words are gruff, but there’s a hint of teasing in them, too. 

Aaron smiles into the last kiss before backing off, pulling you up with him. “You need to rehydrate.”

You roll your eyes but accept the glass of water anyway. “What about you guys?” you say in between sips.

“Don’t worry about us,” Gibbs says, hand stroking your knee.

“This is about you,” Hotch adds.

You smile around your next drink of water. You weren’t expecting to get the best case scenario out of tonight, but clearly you are.

“Since this is about me,” you say, feeling a little bold now that they’re both clearly here to stay, at least for tonight, “I’m gonna go pee, and when I’m done, the both of you better be in the bedroom. Got it?” You raise your eyebrows at them, waiting for their answers.

They share a look and a smirk.

“Yes ma’am,” they reply at the same time, heads snapping to one another when they realize they’ve echoed each other.

You leave them in the living room, knowing their eyes are on you as you walk down the hall. 

You take your time in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror for a moment, wondering how tonight is real. You never fantasized about having them both. You thought about having Hotch again; you thought about having Gibbs. But never at the same time. Until you had them both within arms’ reach tonight.

Now you don’t know how you never thought of this, even just to fantasize.

You wait and listen for any movement outside the door to indicate that they’ve followed into your room, but you hear nothing. Not that this surprises you because both men have an affinity for walking quietly and sneaking up on everyone -- though Gibbs does it more intentionally than Hotch, you think.

After giving it a few more moments, you open the bathroom door, coming face to face with Hotch who wastes zero time in lifting you over his shoulder.

“Excuse me!” you laugh, playfully hitting his back. “I can walk just fine.”

“Ohhh, then we haven’t been doing a good enough job, sweetheart,” Gibbs says from beside your bed. 

Hotch tosses you onto your bed gently, though it is hard enough to make you bounce. You grin when Gibbs hovers over you with a wolfish grin.

“We’ll do better,” Hotch says, kneeling onto the end of the bed, stroking your calves. “Want to tell Gibbs about something we used to do?”

You see the dark green envy flash across Gibbs’s eyes, and you know it was intentional on Hotch’s part. It makes heat flood your entire body, the way Gibbs stares you down, eyes raking over every part of your face.

“What?” Gibbs says, all heat directed to Hotch but the word is spoken barely an inch from your lips. “What did you do?”

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, because it makes the envy flare in Gibbs’s eyes), you have no idea what exactly Hotch is referring to because the two of you did a lot when you were sleeping with one another. The panic is clear in your body to Hotch as you squirm a little, your legs trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

Aaron’s hand circles your ankle, holding you in place. “Well, Gibbs, sometimes when I’d be inside her, she’d want something in her mouth too, but fingers just weren’t enough. Were they, honey?”

Your eyes go wide with the memory of Aaron’s hips slamming into yours while he guided one of your dildos down your throat. 

“Won’t need to use one of your toys this time,” Hotch continues. “Will we?”

You watch, slightly mortified, as it dawns on Gibbs what exactly Hotch is implying. And then he’s covering your lips with his, groaning into your mouth.

“Where do you want us?” Gibbs whispers against you, tugging on your bottom lip.

“I want to taste you,” you smirk. “You didn’t let me earlier.”

He chuckles at that. “Alright, you win.”

You yelp, neither of them offering any warning before you’re tugged sideways on the bed so your head hangs slightly over the edge. Gibbs stands in front of your mouth and it sends a thrill through you, hands automatically reaching for him.

Hotch kneels between your legs, spreading your thighs and hooking them over his hips. “Ready, honey?” His thumbs stroke your calves gently, a stark contrast to what you know is about to happen.

You nod furiously, trying to tilt your head to taste Gibbs, but he bats you away again. 

“Hey, eyes on me,” he orders, waiting for you to look up at him. 

Aaron easily slides home just as you meet Gibbs’s gaze, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Your mouth falls open in a moan that makes Aaron chuckle, hands palming your hips to lift them, meeting his slow thrusts.

Gibbs strokes your face gently, your eyes fluttering open. “Tap me if it’s too much, got it?”

You nod, eyes lighting up now that he’s offering you what you’ve wanted all night. You reach for him again to wrap your hands around him, but he shakes his head, grabbing your wrists. He places your hands on his thighs with a stern look.

“I’m doing all the work, you just hold on,” he says, lips twitching. “Got it?”

You nod again, relishing in the feeling of Aaron’s deep thrusts, how gentle he is despite how far he reaches inside you. And then, finally, Gibbs guides his cock into your mouth. 

Your eyes instantly roll back when you feel him on your tongue. You don’t know what it is, why you’ve enjoyed having something in your mouth at the same time as your pussy, but it’s addicting. You forgot how much you loved it, even though you only did it a handful of times with Aaron, always a little too embarrassed to ask for it again. But clearly he noticed how much you enjoyed it. 

It’s pure bliss for you, feeling the weight of them both inside of you at the same time, matching each other’s thrusts. The steady grip of Aaron’s hands on your hips paired with the gentle hold Gibbs has on your head to support your neck. Both caring for you while they fuck you into oblivion.

Gibbs pulls back only for a moment, Hotch slowing down as well so they can ask if you’re still with them.

“I’m great,” you say, voice hoarse, a lopsided smile crossing your face. You rock your hips up when Aaron slows down too much, whimpering when he pins you down. “Want to feel you guys cum in me.”

“You first, honey, you know the rules,” Hotch coos, one hand splaying over your stomach so he can rub circles on your clit. “Then we’ll give you what you want.”

You’re close already just from feeling them in you and all over you and hearing them lose their composure because of you. 

“Can you do that?” Hotch asks, knowing damn well that you can. You know he can feel you clenching every time he applies just a bit more pressure to your clit. 

You squirm against him all the same, nodding. “Y-Yeah, I can, just-- Need you to move.”

The two men share a silent conversation before Gibbs is tipping your head back again, feeding his cock back into your mouth.

This time, they start talking. Not to you. To each other.

“I’ve never felt her like this,” Aaron says through a groan, pressing as deep as he can into you.

“You’re welcome,” Gibbs says, so smug while he hits the back of your throat just as Aaron grinds against your g-spot, both motions making your eyes roll. “God, I thought she had an oral fixation, didn’t realize it was this bad.”

“Best thing in the world, isn’t she?” Aaron replies, and the sweetness has your lips twitching into a half-smile around Gibbs. “Prettiest girl.”

Gibbs pulls back just to hear your little whine before he cuts it off by thrusting back in. “How does she feel? Close?”

“Right on the edge,” Hotch sings, still rocking into you, still thumbing your clit. “Come on, sweetheart.”

You’re squirming more and more, like you’re trying to run from them and pull them closer at the same time.

Gibbs feels it in your throat when you cum because all of your muscles relax and he slips impossibly deep, head falling back as your body shakes. He pulls back until his head is on your tongue, not wanting to cum down your throat in this position. 

“There she is,” Hotch breathes, still circling your clit, still thrusting right against your g-spot to prolong your orgasm. He doesn’t stop until you’re pushing his hand away from your clit. “Okay, okay,” he whispers, soothing you by lacing your fingers together. “Had enough?”

You nod, then shake your head, then nod again. “Wanna feel you guys first.” You pause, head tipping back, baring your throat to him. 

Gibbs bends down first for a kiss, checking in, thumbing the tears from the corners of your eyes. Hotch readjusts, lifting your legs so your ankles are over his shoulders, so he can press a kiss to the joint before continuing.

When they start again, you’re not so sure you’ll be able to come again after so many times. Your body is beginning to feel entirely wrung out, limbs going limp. 

They play you like a fiddle, but take care of you even while they chase their own highs. You hear them talking to each other again, but it quickly devolves into them talking to you, praising you.

“So good, asking us to do this,” Aaron coos.

“So good for letting us do this,” Gibbs echoes. “Feels amazing.”

“Always feels like Heaven, honey.”

You preen into their touches, into Gibbs’s gentle hands on your neck, into Aaron’s soft touch on your thighs. Maybe it’s the new position, maybe it’s their sweet talking, but it gets you there once again.

Feeling you spasm around him has Aaron shuddering through his orgasm, pressing his hips against yours as close as they’ll go. Gibbs basks in the warmth of your throat for a moment longer before pulling back, spilling over your tongue, then your chin, neck, and chest. 

You let out the happiest, content sigh when you feel both of them reach their own release. The two men share a mystified smile.

Your legs shake as Hotch lowers them, your core fluttering around him as he pulls out gingerly, smoothing his hands over your stomach, shushing you. 

You let them manhandle you one more time, but now so you can curl up in between them on the bed. You bury your face in Gibbs chest the second he lays down, and you tug Hotch’s arm further around your waist as he settles in behind you.

You’re a smiling mess as Gibbs presses a kiss to your forehead, just as Hotch kisses the crown of your head. 

“So…” You pause, unable to stop the mischievous giggle that leaves your lips. “I think that was a tie.”

“A tie?” Gibbs is so incredulous that it makes you laugh harder, hysterical now.

Hotch tightens his arm around your waist. “We’ll just have to try again.”

“She’ll pick the right side,” Gibbs says, kissing your forehead again. “Won’t you?”

He looks deep into your eyes, but all you do is smile at him, giving him no sort of answer that he wants.

“She will,” Hotch says from behind you, possessiveness dripping from his words. “She knows where she belongs.”

Yeah, you think with a smug smile. Right in the middle.