Aaron Hotchner groans. Despite what some may think, I just know he would not, and could not, be silent. No, not while your hands are scraping his back, or when he’s buried deep inside you. Not when your mouth opens for him and he slots in so easily. And certainly not when he can feel you clenching around him, on the edge of orgasm.
I wouldn’t necessarily categorise him as a loud lover, but I just know, that the professional mask he wears as Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner is neatly packed away once he has you all to himself, along with his tailored suits.
He hisses through his teeth when he slides into you for the first time.
Grunts when he’s got you on all fours, a hand gripping your hair firmly. Especially after a rough case, and he is lucky enough to have you to relieve him of all that built up tension.
Moans lowly when you’re on top, taking what you need from him.
“Come on, sweetheart, you begged to ride me. Where did all that energy go? You need me to help you, hm?” He breathes down your ear once your legs grow tired, before holding you up and slamming you up and down on his cock.
it was your fault in the first place for oversexualizing aizawa's hands and pitching the idea he record himself for you. his humble response was typical - "why would anyone want to see me jerking off," and you wanted to smack him on the head.
obviously he prefers to see your cute fingers and freshly painted nails struggle to fit around his girth instead of his own boring one. "i'm your girlfriend, dummy. of course i wanna see my man play with his dick." he isn't opposed to it, but a woman's genuine desire to watch a man masturbate is foreign to him.
the man he is, he aims to please. and anything his sweet freak girlfriend wants, she gets tenfold. he spends more time than he'd like to admit adjusting his phone for the best camera angles, staring too long at his fingers that you're so riled up about.
but fuck do they look amazing wrapped around his thick shaft, thumb solely rubbing precum all over the fat head that flows in an endless stream. those heavy balls rest in the palm of his other hand, aching for release and tightening with even the most gentle squeeze.
turn the brightness up just a notch to see how wet and slick his cock gets, which he's self admittedly "shy" about due to how much lube he drenches himself in (that could never compare to your pussy). make sure that volume is all the way up from start to finish! he knows it's always a treat for you to hear the raspiness in his voice that deepens right before his climax.
flashforward to when he's panting, chest heaving from the release and abs covered in a tremendous amount of fresh cum and sweat.
[1 Video] you're not gonna get off to this, are you?
» Fatgum forgetting who’s birthday its supposed to be (18+)
You cooked all of Taishiro’s favorite meals today and you spent way too long baking his cake the night before. Your skin smelt like frosting and something so distinctly you. He could smell it as soon as he woke up, his nose buried in the crook of your neck, sniffing like a dog as you lay there completely oblivious to how hard it made him.
It drove him insane. You smelt like vanilla as you perched next to him while he opened gifts. You smelt like fresh strawberries as you went out for a small get together with friends. You smelt like heaven when he got you into bed, large hands forcing your legs apart while you whined “Hey! I’m supposed to be pampering you!” But he didn’t listen. He buried his face between your thighs, tongue flattening over your panties to taste the syrupy sweat slick that stained the fabric.
The second he got your panties off his mouth was on you, nose knocking against your clit as he messily ate you out, thick tounge pumping in and out as you tugged on his hair for dear life. Each moan of his name died on your tongue as a new whiny sound was pushed out of you. Your body could hardly keep up with the pleasure he was inflicting— thighs tensed, eyes rolling back, it all felt like too fucking much.
“S’sweet—“ he slurred, lips glistening with your juices as he pulled back slightly, “you taste so damn good, baby.” The flavor of your slick coating his tongue tasted better than any sweet he’s ever had. And when you came, body spasming and cunt gushing around his tongue, he swore he’d never find a flavor that compared.
But of course the sweet salt flavor of your skin was just as good. He peppered your twitching inner thighs with apologetic kisses as you came down from your high, arms curling around his shoulders when his sticky lips met yours.
Your mind was still mushy from your orgasm as you mumbled a little “Happy Birthday.” Taishiro chuckled as he collected you into his strong arms, hips grinding his achingly hard cock against your thigh, “Happy Birthday is right.”
virgin!shoto who’s can’t take all the praise you give him as you ride him, his muscles are flexing and he’s digging his fingers into the sheets trying so hard to ground himself but then you roll your hips just right and he cums hard, tossing his head to the side and a small moan slipping out of his parted lips as you keep riding him, he’s gasping and looking up at you with fluttering lashes and when you cum his eyes roll back and his dick twitches as he cums again
Your husband was staring at you as if you'd just pulled your eyeball out of the socket and tossed it to him.
"You want me to do what?" His eyes were blown wide behind his half-frame glasses.
"I want you to break my brain, y'know, fuck me till I can't think," You said with a giggle. Your husband's eyebrows pushed together as his chin dropped toward his chest. "Come on, Ten, it could be fun," you said with a wink.
Tenya gulped, his eyes flashing down to the smooth skin of your thighs before catching your eyes again. You had interrupted him while he was in his study. The straight-laced hero had a habit of bringing his work home with him. You loathed the fact that he'd spend hours huddled up in his study doing paperwork, even on his days off. Deciding to take matters into your own hands on this day in particular, you decided to pay your husband a visit.
Now, you had hopped up on his dark wood desk, legs crossed in the shortest skirt you owned. Tenya had no recollection of purchasing it; he would've remembered it from the little fashion shows you liked to put on after a shopping spree. It was your way of softening the blow. After all, the last thing on your husband's mind after one of your modeling performances is the credit card statement.
"Darling, what has gotten into you?" He leaned forward, placing his hands on the outside of either of your thighs. Effectively caging you in, and allowing his spicy vanilla scent to enfiltate you senses.
"I just wanna turn my brain off for a while, Tenya," you said, jutting out your bottom lip. "Can you help me with that?"
The look in your eye was driving him crazy. His dick was already twitching to life in his slacks. Tenya always took care of you, kept you satisfied like a good husband should. The only thing missing was excitement. Every time you had sex, it was the same: turn out the lights, fluff the pillows. Like a choreographed dance. You are craving excitement, even if you had to play a little dirty to get it.
"Do you really think this is appropriate?" He warned, cocking a sharp eyebrow at you. You didn't answer immediately, taking longer than needed to cross and uncross your legs.
Tenya caught on to the fact that you weren't wearing any underwear. He glinted up at your face through dark denim eyes. You could tell from the strained creases filling in the space between his brows and the sizable lump in his pants that his resolve was slipping. So you pulled out the big guns, crawling into his lap and straddling his thighs.
"Please, baby," you whined into the shell of his ear, dragging your bare heat over his crotch.
Your husband's hands shot to your waist with a bruising grip to still your movements. "You are my wife," he grunted. "I've treated you with nothing but respect over the course of our relationship." He looked at you with steel in his eyes. "Yet you prefer I treat you like some sort of whore, is that right?" He'd shifted beneath you, pressing his now throbbing dick against your leaky center.
Using his grip on your hips, he gently rocked you back and forth on his lap, causing your eyes to flutter closed. Chasing more friction, you attempted to grind yourself harder on him. Tenya sucked his teeth in response, acquiescing to your requests and pressing your hips harder into him.
" Tenya, please," you groaned into the crook of his neck. Your hands fly up to crease his perfectly pressed dress shirt. Another one of those things that would drive him up a wall if it weren't you.
The utterly distraught tone of your voice, coupled with the way your hips seemed to be rebelling against his grasp, would come to push your sweet, kind, respectable husband over the edge. With your body pressed so tightly to his, slick pooling in his lap. And if what you wanted was to be disgraciously defiled, then he would give you exactly that.
"Ask me again, my love," he said, placing a large, heavy hand in the small of your back.
"Hmmm," You whine, pulling back to gaze up at him with the prettiest pout he'd ever seen.
Tenya almost slipped, almost.
"Tell me what you need one more time, my dear." Everything about the way he was looking at you read as a call to contest. His eyelids were low, the corners of his mouth downturned, while his brows raised.
He was testing your resolve. His pretty little wife, spoiled rotten to the point that no request was too large. Even if it went against everything her husband stood for. Even if he'd been secretly holding out hope that one day you would come to him and speak like this. Tenya wanted to be certain before he let his mask slip, before he gave you everything you didn't know you were asking for. He'd never let you think again, if you said the right words.
You were out of sorts, taken aback by his reaction. Tenya never challenged you; he always rolled over. Always gave in to whatever request you had, no matter how extravagant or extreme. The current look of provocation on his face appealed to your insistent nature; if this was his way of telling you no, it wasn't going to work. You knew how to appeal to his better nature after all, you knew Tenya had a dark side, you just needed to bring it out of him.
"I want you to fuck me senseless." Your daring gaze met his challenging one. "I want you to use that fat dick of yours to knock every single thought out of my head. I want you to ruin me, Tenya."
You felt him throb beneath you, but you had no idea what you'd just done.
One of his hands, the one that still resided on your waist, moved to fan out over your chest, pushing you back until your spine met the edge of the desk. Not with force, just control. The same hand snaked up your chest, stopping to take hold of your throat. To anchor back down to Earth.
"My sweet wife, I had no idea you could be so demanding." His words came out in a rasp that sent a wave that sent the electric sensation of pleasure right to your cunt, like a zap! Causing you to clench around what you wished was there, the ghost of him.
As if he were answering your prayers, he brought an experimental thumb down to swipe over your swollen clit. Like thin glass breaking, a jagged, stressed moan fell from your mouth. A sound Tenya had never heard and that you didn't know you could make. He could feel the relief, and it was like music to his ears. You really did want this.
He repeated his movements, getting lost in the sounds of your needy cries when Tenya got too excited, his hips twitched on their own. You responded with a nasty roll of your own, your body begging for more. As a good husband would, Tenya obeyed, giving a little more pressure with the pad of his thumb. Not enough to send you over the edge you'd been gently teetering on all day, but enough to make your back arch and tears well in your eyes.
"It seems like you're already a bit broken. You marched in here like you had a challenge for me." He'd found a neat little rhythm of rubbing tight circles into you, keeping you right where he wanted you and refusing to budge. He'd taken up a rather condescending tone, watching you begin to fall into ruin.
At some point in your relationship, Tenya felt himself slipping. It all began innocently with the riches, the spoils, the lavish lifestyle; it was all a means to keep you smiling. Somewhere along the way, the purpose became twofold. You didn't mind that he'd installed internal security cameras. It came with a diamond tennis bracelet. When he showed up to surprise you on a few occasions while you were out shopping, you thought it was sweet. There was that time your phone died, and he couldn't get in touch with you for a few hours, and you had a personal security detail anytime you left the house from that day forward. He was protecting you.
It was all warranted, he told himself. Necessary because you were his, and he had a duty to protect what was his. And this— you, begging for his touch, his ruin, this is his reward.
"So wet, I could just—" he began, two of his girthy fingers finding your entrance and sinking in with minimal resistance. The bow in your spine deepened, mouth falling into a silent scream as your eyes twitched and fluttered shut.
"Can you undress for me, baby?" His fingers curled inside you, expertly finding that sweet spot that had you sputtering in response.
Your fingers, once hastily spread over the long forgotten reports, strone over the cherry wood grain, now fumbled with the buttons of your blouse. Shakily undoing the powder blue material and letting it fall open. A satisfied smile spread across Tenya's face. He loved it when you cosplayed as a secretary. You all dressed up in your tight blouses and stockings, which only added to his delusions.
No bra, perfect, you were really letting that Breast Augmentation you begged for do the talking. His hand left your throat to gingerly fondle your chest and roll over your hardened nipples. At the same time, he continued pumping his calloused fingers in and out of you.
"Such a good girl, letting me do whatever I want, " he cooed. "Just like I knew you would."
You were riding so high on the praise that the second part was lost on you. Hips bucking into his hand as breathy, strained moans passed through your lips. The steamy coil residing in your lower belly threatened to snap. Tenya tried to focus all his attention on you, but he himself drifted off, wondering what could have sparked this idea from you.
I want you to ruin me…
This was the first time he'd ever heard you speak that way, and while he adored the way those words sounded coming out of your mouth, he knew that wasn't a seed that he'd sewn himself. He then began to think of possible suspects: the landscaper, the pool boy, or perhaps your tennis coach, maybe. All other suspicious candidates had been eliminated, due to your husband's gentle guidance. Tenya had become so lost in thought that his movement between your legs had slowed to nearly a halt. A wake-up call came in the sound of a pleading whine from you.
As your vision came back into focus, a worrying look crossed your husband's face. His eyes had glossed over, and you could see the click of his jaw. A shiver ran down your shoulders. Tenya had never looked at you with anything other than admiration, his darling, his angel, his wife, his everything.
His fingers curled meanly inside you as he picked up at a feverish pace, and his free hand came back up to take firm hold of your neck. You gasped in response, eyes snapping shut and back bowing away from the edge of the desk.
"Look at me," his voice barely above a mumble, but stern to the point that you obliged without a second thought. Your eyes shot up to meet his, only to find the glare of lenses shielding his dark blue gaze. His hand moved up to take hold of his jaw and draw your face closer to his. The slight change in angle made it easy for Tenya to work his middle and index finger knuckle deep in your slippery cunt while his thumb found its way into circling your clit.
Your hips bucked and thrashed as you fought to hold his stare. Strangled mewls and moans slipped past your clenched teeth. Your husband's demeanor remained calm; it always did. He watched your face screw and twist as you approached your sweet peak. Tenya knew just the thing that would push you over the edge, yet he held back. Feeling experimental and emboldened by his pretty wife's pliability, Tenya thought of the perfect way to 'break you'.
"Mmm uuhhhh," Your fingernails dug into the fabric covering his shoulders. "P-please," you rasped.
"Please, what?" His chin jutted out, and his mouth formed into a mocking pout. "Use your words."
"Ten, cuumm please," your mind fought to piece together an actual sentence, but you were at a loss for coherent thoughts. " I need— I have to."
"Just ask, say the words, and it's yours, my love." While his words were encouraging, his tone could only be described as taunting. His hands continued working, keeping you stalled right on the edge of release.
Your mind was drawing blanks, hazy with need so thick it caught in your throat. Tears welled in the outer corners of your eyes. The look of pure adulation on your husband's face only adds to the sweet torment of what he was doing to you. Vision fuzzy and body at his mercy, your mind blanked completely. Tenya withdrew his fingers, and when your lips parted to whine, he shoved the wet digits in. Your own salacious taste sliding over your tongue.
"God, look at this mess you've made." The light pressure of his fingers guided your gaze to the large darkened patch that covered his lap. "And I didn't even get to watch you cum."
Remember to Like, Comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!
I actually have no idea how this reads. I proofread bits and pieces, so hopefully it's somewhat good. I was really being self-indulgent here... sorry, not sorry.
Cw: Lesbian sex, Couch sex, Oral sex (r!recieving), and whatever else you can nitpick from this 😭
Alex had been away on a case for almost a week now. The absence of her presence was starting to become unbearable. You sat on the couch for hours on end…filled with boredom. Almost every day you watched videos you filmed together. laughing, cuddling, hugging, kissing, just being in love. The longing and lust for her grew more and more every single day. It was about 11 PM and the pent up emotions inside of you were about to explode until you heard the jingling of her keys in the lock of the front door. You jumped off the couch in the living room and darted down the hall, sprinting for the door. The door opened and you were greeted by her in her red silky blouse, which you two bought together on a shopping trip that cut down low and jeans that hugged the curve of her ass a little too well. She planned this.
“I missed you so much, Alex” you spoke, walking up to her and hugging her tightly. You stepped back to give her a glance-over. “You're wearing the shirt we bought at the mall” you commented, smiling as you remembered the fond memory. As you dragged your eyes down her figure, your thighs squeezed together subconsciously. Her eyes flicked to the movement. Damn her being a profiler and noticing everything. Alex caught the movement and a knowing smirk spread across her features. “I can tell,” she said smugly, her hands moving to your body as she turned you around. Her left hand snaked down to your lower back as she gently pushed you forward. She followed close behind as she softly kicked the door shut and stretched her right hand to lock it.
“how was the case, babe?” you asked as you started walking to the couch. She followed close behind. You plopped down onto the nice leather couch. You stretched your body, still feeling the tension in your joints from all of the days of sleeping on that couch. praying she would come home while you slept. Alex sat down next to you, putting her arm around your shoulders as she pulled you close. “It was exhausting. The unsub seemed impossible to catch, everyone was running on caffeine and two hours of sleep a day, and I was missing my beautiful girlfriend miserably.” she said dramatically, giving your cheek a soft kiss.
“You're buttering me up,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes. “What is it you need so badly that you have to pull out the dramatics for?” you said teasingly. “What? I can't miss you? God forbid I love you.” Alex bantered back, giving you three more kisses, leaving lipstick marks on your forehead, jaw, and cheekbone. “Alex, you only get all lovey-dovey like this when you want something. Spill.” you laughed out, kissing her cheek in return.
“Well…i was gone for a pretty long time…” she started as you nodded along, already knowing where this was going. “And I feel like you and I both need to blow off a little steam…” she said, feigning innocence. you were shocked as she literally batted. her. lashes. “Really?” you said, starting to tease back. You traced your hand up her thigh. “We both know we need it!” she tried defending, giving you her best puppy dog eyes. This was surely a sight. Especially considering how she was quite a few years older than you.
“Why should I give you what you want? You left me for days. In a cold bed. All by myself” you sighed in mock sadness. Alex caught you drift and pretended to comfort you “Because I pay the bills and you should listen to your elders” she responded. You almost laughed at that but you refused to break the weird LARPing going on. you just sighed again as you put the backside of your hand on your forehead as if you were feeling faint.
“I don't know, Alex…I'm feeling so dizzy and faint right now…” you whined as you leaned dramatically into her chest, all swoony and tragic, and Alex let out this low chuckle that absolutely gave her away. She slid a hand up your spine, steadying you like she was your very responsible, definitely-in-charge girlfriend… which honestly was not helping your “fainting spell” at all.
“Oh wow,” she murmured with a tone of teasing in her voice. “Good thing I got home when I did. My poor baby would've just wasted away on this couch.”
You cracked one eye open to look up at her, trying so hard not to smile. “Maybe I am wasting away. Maybe I’m beyond saving.”
Alex raised a brow and tilted your chin up with a single finger, a smirk plastering her face. “Nice try. You’re not dying. You’re dramatic.” She rolled her eyes. “And you’re craving attention.”
Your breath hitched because yeah, she wasn’t wrong but also because she knew exactly what she was doing. Her hand slid from your spine to your waist, fingers pressing into you just enough to make you squirm. “Alex…” you warned, though your tone was anything but threatening.
“Mm?” Alex hummed, all fake innocence, like she wasn’t tracing circles on your hip with her thumb. “You’re doing that thing,” you muttered. “What thing?” she asked, leaning back just enough to look you dead in the eyes. “The thing where I touch my girlfriend after not seeing her for a week? Tragic.”
You smacked her thigh half-heartedly, but the contact only made her grin wider. “You’re impossible.”
“And you missed me,” she shot back instantly, smug as hell. You huffed and looked away, but she gently grabbed your chin and made you look back. “My sweet girl,” she said softly. The endearment falling from her mouth like she’d been wanting to say it all week. “I missed you so much it was actually embarrassing.”
Your heart did a dumb little flip.
“And,” she continued, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, “I would really, really like to make up for lost time… but only if you want that too.” Your breath hitched when you saw the look in her eyes. The look she only reserved for you. And suddenly the room didn’t feel empty anymore. It felt warm, familiar, and safe. Even with her teasing you and being annoying. You swallowed, your voice dropping to something soft and honest. “Yeah… I want that.”
Her smile gentled, her forehead leaning against yours. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I've been waiting all week for you.” she said before kissing you. A week's worth of love poured into it.
Alex’s tongue traced the outline of your bottom lip, seeking entry. You parted your lips to let her tongue in and she slipped it in, slowly swirling against your own. Her hands slid down your body until they made way to the hem of your shirt.
her hands slid under your shirt, creeping up your torso, touching the soft skin of you stomach. She moaned into the kiss, letting you swallow it. Desperately gripping your sides for leverage as your hands carded through her hair. Alex's hands crept up your side to your bra and she groped your breasts.
You whimpered softly causing Alex to smirk smugly. She slid her hands back down and tugged at the hem of your shirt. “This…needs to come off.” she said, smirking. You grabbed it and pulled it up and over your head, smiling when you saw her pupils dilate.
Alex's eyes roamed over your bare torso hungrily before she quickly unhooked your bra and tossed it aside. Her hands immediately went to your breasts, squeezing and kneading them possessively as she captured your mouth in a deep, searing kiss. "Fuck, you're so perfect…my perfect girl…”
Alex's mouth trailed down your neck, sucking and biting as she moved lower. She pushed you back onto the couch gently, her hands sliding down your sides to your hips. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of your shorts and slowly pulled them down, taking your underwear with them.
She laid down on her stomach, situating herself between your legs. Alex spread you apart, watching as you blossomed out beautifully like a flower. She almost drooled at the sight. She laid kisses down the inside of your thigh, giving small nips here and there. When she finally reached your core she gave small kitten licks to prepare you for what came next. When she felt like you were ready and wet enough she dove in.
Her tongue ran a course through your folds, lapping at your entrance before diving inside. She moaned against you, the taste washing over her tongue like the purest holy water, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. Her hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you in place as she ate you out hungrily, starved for your taste after a week apart.
Your hands carded through her hair and tugged gently when she laid a particularly rough flick against your clitoris. Her tongue never gave way, licking and flicking against you, making your back arch and your brows to furrow. Your breath was coming out in small pants and she sucked on your clit like she was inhaling the life from you itself. She continued to eat you out until completion. Your orgasm washed over you like a monsoon. She lapped up your juices as if she were drinking from the fountain of youth. Well, technically she was because she always made comments here and there about how you “make her feel young again”. She kissed up your stomach, caressing your waist gently as she made her way to your neck again. She kissed your neck so softly, so purely, it felt like the Earth itself had stopped moving. Just to watch as the most important woman in your life gave pleasure to you. She began to kiss your face, whispering sweet nothings. “You did so good for me, you always do” she said softly before kissing your left cheek. “My beautiful girl, how did I get so lucky?” she whispered, kissing your right cheek. “I love you so much. You are the best thing to happen to this cruel world since The Beatles White Album” she said before kissing your forehead. All this love made you feel complete. You watched as she pulled back, holding your face and searching your eyes.
“You know how much I love you right?” she asked, smiling softly and tilting her head. You gave a nod, the only thing you could manage because words didn’t feel real yet. “Then let’s shower. I probably smell like sweat and you are sticky now.” she teased, laughing as you rolled your eyes. “Come on, don’t give me that look. We have to shower. I’m not going to bed dirty.” she commanded and you let out a sigh. “Fine.” you grumbled, feeling cranky now. She helped you up and walked you to the showing, holding in small laughs as she watched your legs tremble like a deer fawn learning how to walk.
Alex guided you down the hall and into the bathroom, the lights flicking on to reveal the familiar space you’d shared a hundred quiet moments in before. The shower steamed up quickly, warmth filling the room as she slipped her clothes off. She stepped in first and held a hand out for you like it was the most natural thing in the world. You took it, letting her steady you as you joined her, the water cascading over both of you and washing away the long week that had clung to your skin.
She was gentler now, movements slow and careful, palms smoothing over your arms and shoulders like she was committing you to memory all over again. You leaned into her, forehead resting against her collarbone, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing. For once, there was no teasing, no smug remarks. Just the quiet comfort of being together again. Alex pressed a kiss to the top of your head, lingering there. “I really hate leaving you,” she murmured, voice low and sincere. “But coming home to you makes it worth it every time.”
You smiled, fingers tracing idle patterns against her back. “I’ll survive,” you said softly. “Barely. Very heroically.” She huffed out a laugh, the sound vibrating through her chest, and hugged you a little tighter. The water beat down around you, cocooning you both in warmth and white noise, and for a moment the world outside that bathroom didn’t exist.
Later, in your pajamas and tangled together on the bed, Alex pulled you close and tucked you under her chin. Exhaustion finally caught up to her, you could feel it in the way her body relaxed against yours. “I never want to leave for that long again. Every second without you felt like torture,” she said, like it was something that had been on her mind for a while. You nodded, snuggling closer, your legs fitting together perfectly like they always did. She stroked your hair, lulling you to sleep. She listened for the way your breath had evened out and your muscles relaxed. She whispered a soft “I love you” the room settled into silence, and the ache from the week apart was gone. Replaced with something steady and warm. Alex’s arm tightened around you once more, protective and sure. No cases. No distance. Just the two of you, finally at rest and soft peace.
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?”
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.
KINKTOBER ‘25 ❤︎ DAY NINE office sex → aaron hotchner !
like what you see? check out my kinktober 2025 masterlist!
warnings: fem!reader, dom!hotch, power imbalance/very unprofesional dynamics, public sex, sir kink, degradation, dumbification!!!, begging, a little humiliation, a tinsy bit of praise, doggy, unprotected p in v, creampie, no mention of birth control, hair pulling, spanking, hotch is so mean and i love it, r is veryyyy pathetic!!!, loosely ib secretary 2002, i havent seen the movie in years but the dynamic is so!!!!
wc: 3.4k
div: animatedglittergraphics-n-more, toastray
lowercase intended, no use of y/n
the rest of the team had been extraordinarily thankful for your addition to the BAU—more than thankful, really. you’d arrived like a breath of fresh air after months of walking on eggshells around unit chief aaron hotchner.
he’d been wound too tight, running the team and himself into the ground with relentless precision. the unit had been stretched thin under the weight of his expectations, and even his silence carried an edge that left everyone on guard.
they all understood the reason behind it. aaron wasn’t cruel—he was cracking. between endless case files, sleepless nights, and the impossible balance of leading the team and fatherhood, he was suffocating. it showed in the stiff lines of his posture, the short tone of his voice, the way he stayed long after everyone else had gone home. he carried responsibility like armour, and it was starting to cut into him.
and then came you.
garcia had mentioned a gap in the budget—a chance to hire someone to help. the idea of an assistant for aaron had started as a joke, but when you appeared, arms full of files and a smile that didn’t falter under his scrutiny, the team realized you might actually be exactly what they needed.
it was obvious you were much too eager to please, taking on much more of a workload than necessary, but an efficient over achiever was exactly who aaron needed.
you anticipated needs before they were voiced, handled paperwork before it hit his desk, and still found time to bring doughnuts on fridays. you aided the unit in running so smoothly that for the first time in months, there was a breath of fresh air in the bullpen again.
aaron noticed.
at first, he told himself it was professional appreciation—but it quickly became clear that there was something else at play. you were calm where he was controlled, warm where he was guarded, and it pried on him more than he’d admit.
you unsettled him.
he’d catch himself watching you, jaw tight, eyes following the curve of your hand as you wrote, or the way you brushed your hair back when you were focused, supposedly blissfully unaware of his brooding stare.
each time, he’d look away sharply, as if the act of noticing you was a failure of discipline. but you still felt it—his gaze, heavy and assessing, lingering just long enough to make your pulse quicken.
the others noticed, too. the air changed whenever you entered his office. his voice dropped lower, slower, when he spoke to you. he stood too close sometimes, leaning over your shoulder to check a report, the heat of his presence brushing against your back.
you told yourself it was nothing. you told yourself you didn’t like the way his authority filled the space, the way he looked at you like he could see right through your excuses. but that wasn’t true.
you did like it. you liked how he made you nervous—how his tone left no room for argument, how his attention felt both dangerous and intoxicating. there was a gravity to him, a kind of restrained power that made it hard to breathe when he was near.
aaron was everything you shouldn’t want: older, commanding, your superior. but every time he said your name, low, deliberate, like a warning—you felt the edge of something else there. something that didn’t belong in the office, something that made your skin heat and your chest tighten.
you were supposed to keep things professional. you told yourself that every morning. but the truth was simple: you were already in too deep.
and when aaron hotchner’s dark eyes met yours across his office one late evening, the tension between you didn’t just hum—it dared to break.
it was just supposed to be one night, one offer to drive you home… that somehow ended with you waking up in his bed. but aaron hotchner never did anything halfway.
what should’ve been a single event quickly became a dangerous pattern. private nights bled into stolen moments between briefings, the kind of hunger that thrived in secrecy. a hand at your waist when no one was looking. his voice low against your ear in the file room, breath ghosting over your skin before you both stepped out as though nothing had happened.
later, it was his office—door locked, blinds drawn, your pulse thrumming in the quiet as he undid you all over again.
you had just started out in this position, you were just beginning to prove yourself to be worthy of your job, and you were already struggling to meet the reputation you had crafted... all because of him.
aaron did something to your brain, altering the hardwiring, scrambling it up into a flustered mess without even trying.
you tried to stay focused, to pretend it wasn’t affecting you. but the magnetic pull of him made it impossible to concentrate. his presence filled every room, every thought. the faint scent of his cologne could drag your mind away from a report, the sound of his voice could make your stomach twist with anticipation. you were slipping, and you knew it.
and of course, so did aaron. he noticed everything. the hesitation in your answers, the flush that rose whenever his gaze lingered too long. the logical choice, the one he’d tell anyone else to make—would be to end it. to cut ties before it compromised work. but, to an almost compulsory organized, picture perfect type A such as himself—logic had never felt so irrelevant.
for himself, discipline was useless. every time he set a boundary, he broke it first. every time he tried to pull away, he found himself reaching for you again. you’d become his mindless indulgence, his one breach of restraint—and he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
discipline, he decided, worked far better on you. especially when it came from him.
you were tired, starting from morning, bone-deep exhaustion crawling through every muscle—entirely because of last night, because of him.
every glance he threw your way set your nerves on fire. every small touch felt intentional, calculated. aaron never wasted a movement. even the faintest brush of his fingers against your hand as you wrote up the report he has requested was measured, precise.
he watched you, studied you, and it was clear: he took great satisfaction in your distraction, in the way you faltered under his gaze. you were painfully aware of it, painfully aware of him.
later, you were at your desk, final copies of files neatly stacked for tomorrow, trying to find comfort in the small, mundane rituals of preparing for the day ahead. the rest of the team had already packed up, the smell of takeout and the promise of mindless reality television pulled at you like a promise. you were just about to leave when his voice cut through the office air, low and brooding:
“i need to see you in my office.”
the team looked at you with thinly veiled pity, assuming it was a last-minute work request. if only they knew, knew the tension coiling in your chest, the way the lock clicked behind you as you stepped into his office, sealing you in a quiet, charged space.
“come here.”
it wasn’t a request. not a suggestion. his words carried weight, a pull that made your feet move before your mind could catch up.
you approached his desk slowly, heart hammering, every instinct screaming caution. he gestured, guiding you to the front of his office chair with a firm, unyielding grip.
he stood over you, towering, caging you between himself and the polished wood of his desk with strong, suit clad arms. the report you’d submitted that afternoon lay neatly centred on the desk, a red pen uncapped beside it, ominously precise.
“what is this, sir?”
your voice faltered. your mind scrambled. every word felt inadequate, and yet he waited, watching, as if expecting your hesitation.
“i think you know exactly what it is.”
he said, calm, controlled, almost frightening in its certainty.
you stumbled over your reply, your voice tight in your chest.
“it’s the report i… submitted this afternoon.”
he leaned closer, the proximity sharp and unsettling, and you shivered, his breath sending electric shocks down your spine.
“tell me, did you even read it over before you gave it to me?”
your heart skipped. you had been distracted, preoccupied—and the question hit you like a slap in the face. had you? you honestly didn’t recall. your answer caught in your throat.
“i don’t think you did.”
he said, flat, unyielding. and then, with a movement that felt like a cage tightening around you, he directed your head toward the desk, forcing a perspective of vulnerability you weren’t prepared for.
the room seemed to shrink, the air thick and electric. you could feel every heartbeat, every pulse of your own tension mirrored in his measured, deliberate control.
“what had you so distracted while writing this? Hmm?”
the words echoed in your brain, but they barely registered. your mind was halfway elsewhere, hijacked by the impossible awareness of him. his hand, warm and deliberate, had slipped from behind yours on the dark wood of the desk, inching down your body with excruciating precision. each movement was feather-light, tantalizing—enough to make your skin heat, enough to ignite every nerve, but never enough to satisfy the ache it stirred.
“answer me.”
the command landed like a physical weight on your chest. his voice didn’t just ask; it demanded, and you found yourself cowering under the sheer, almost brutal authority in it. the truth danced at the tip of your tongue, painfully obvious, yet embarrassing to release.
“… you.”
it came out as a squeak, pitiful even to your own ears. his chuckle was soft, dark, and entirely amused, a sound that made your stomach knot further. suddenly, his lips were on your neck, the press of them soft at first, a caress, before sharpening into a bite that drew a shiver through you.
“is that so?”
the words dripped with mockery, his tongue tracing a slow, teasing line up your jaw. every nerve in your body sparked under his attention, every inch of your restraint crumbling.
“what exactly were you thinking about?”
the question fell heavy, a brick of shame and thrill in your chest. you were painfully aware of how easily he had you unraveled, how keenly he understood his effect on you. and yet… to voice it aloud? here? in the office? behind closed doors, alone as you were, it still felt impossibly taboo, a forbidden confession.
“sir…”
the single word escaped like a single wisp, trembling. he pursed his lips, a small, disapproving tut that made your pulse spike. one tiny expression of his displeasure, and suddenly you were unravelling entirely, despite humiliation, desperate to please.
your lips parted, ready to speak, but his hand shifted again, sliding just enough to make you shiver, halting your words mid-thought. every inch of your skin seemed alive under his touch, each movement made to keep you on edge.
you swallowed, hard. heart hammering, as though the sound might betray how undone you already were.
“don’t be shy.”
your tongue felt thick, clumsy. your breath caught.
“... i thought—i thought about your hands… and how they feel… um—touching me... and um, the way you smell..."
you whispered again, more breath than sound, embarrassed and trembling under the intensity of his gaze.
a pleased chuckle rumbled from him, and he leaned closer, so close you could feel the warmth of his body over the subtle hum of your own anticipation, heart beating in your ears. his fingers traced along the sensitive line of your spine, drawing a shiver from the pit of you, his touch teasing, merciless.
“like this?”
you nodded helplessly as his hands travelled across your skin, electrifying and taunting.
“you know,”
he murmured against your ear,
“how easy it is to have you like this, don’t you?”
every word was a pull, each syllable that left his lips only had a tighter grip around your resolve.
you knew it was wrong, being so vulnerable when there were still agents trickling home outside his office doors, that you were technically still working, and yet...
you couldn’t escape him, couldn’t fight the way he had you at his mercy, helplessly wrapped around one of his ridiculously broad and delicious fingers. some small, selfish part of you thrilled at the helplessness—the knowledge that your thoughts, your reactions, even your hesitation, were his to command.
“sir… please.”
his fingers danced to the zipper of your dark pencil skirt, teasing the flesh beneath as he slowly drew it down. the fabric whispered to the floor, a pool of black silk at your ankles.
your breath hitched in a gasp.
“sir! mr.—mr. hotchner!”
his mocking chuckle was a low rumble against your shoulder, where his lips brushed a fleeting kiss.
“i'm going to take you, and you're going to fix this mess of a report like a good girl, understand?”
time seemed to suspend as you froze, then nodded, your knuckles cramping at the desk's edge. The wood groaned under your grip, mirroring the tension that coiled within you. your cotton panties were tugged down, revealing the glistening evidence of your arousal.
his teeth caught his lip, a primal sound escaping him.
“already so wet for me, pathetic.”
his belt clinked and his slacks dropped with a sharp smack, sending a jolt through you.
his words wrapped around you like a possessive embrace. your lip was wedged between your teeth, sharp, your knees trembling with anticipation. the suspense was agony, as you clenched around nothing, yearning for him to fill the void he had created.
his hands, strong and demanding, gripped your hips, pulling you towards him with a force that left no room for resistance. the cool air of the office brushed against your exposed skin, sending shivers down your spine.
your heart raced, a wild drumbeat in your chest, as you felt the hard length of him press against you, teasing your entrance.
“please, sir.”
you whispered, your voice a ragged plea, barely recognizable.
“please, i need—”
he chuckled once more, low, mocking sound dripping with pity and false sympathy, the sound vibrated hot against your skin.
“need what? tell me what you need.”
you hesitated, body flushed and buzzing with embarrassment, it had been him that initiated your desire, and yet you were left to beg as you were, a pitiful helpless subordinate.
“i… need you,”
you admitted, your voice still barely making it above a whisper, nearly inaudible.
“i need you inside me.”
his hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh, no doubt leaving blooming purple crescent marks in their wake.
“beg for it,”
he commanded, his voice a low growl.
“beg for me to fill you.”
you swallowed hard, despite salivating, your mouth ran dry.
“please, sir—mr. hotchner. please… fill me. i need to feel you inside me... i need—”
with a sudden, powerful thrust, he entered you, a gasp escaping your lips as you stretched to accommodate him. the sensation was overwhelming, a heavy mix of pleasure and pain that left you breathless and yearning for more.
his movements were immediate, a relentless rhythm of thrusts that sent waves of ecstasy crashing through your body, each one more intense than the last.
you met his thrusts with equal fervour. your body moved in perfect sync with his, a perfect rhythm of desire and need. the sound of skin against skin, the harsh breaths, the low groans, a primal hunger that consumed you, drawing you deeper into pleasure.
aaron's hand gripped your hair, yanking your head back with a force that sent a jolt of electricity through your scalp. he pushed you harder against him, your body flush against his, the heat of his skin searing into yours. the only sounds that could be heard were the echoing slaps of skin on skin and the wetness of your core, slick and dripping down your thighs with each meeting of your hips.
his bruising, iron grip on your hip faltered, his free hand travelling to harshly slap the flesh of your ass. the sting was brief, quickly soothed by the possessive rub of his palm that followed, claiming every inch of your skin as his own.
"look at you,"
he growled, his voice a claiming promise,
"too fucking dumb and distracted to even focus on the work directly in front of you? pathetic."
you tried to look down at the report laying before you, but his grip on your scalp never faltered, ripping your head back with such intensity that a high-pitched whine escaped your lips.
"too distracted to properly write up a simple report. you’re only useful when you’re on my cock, its sad, really"
he rasped, his words a harsh degradation that sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine.
"every part of you belongs to me."
you nodded, your vision blurring at the harsh words, your body teetering on the edge of release.
"yours,"
you gasped,
"i’m yours, only yours."
his pace quickened, intensity never relenting as he drove you towards your peak. you cried out, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you, your inner muscles clenching around him with a desperate need.
“t–thank you!”
he followed soon after, a low, guttural sound escaping him as he spilled into you, raw, marking you as his, body shuddering with release. you collapsed forward, your forehead resting on the cool wood of the desk, staining the paper that brought you here with sticky, salty tears and sweat.
your body trembled with the aftershocks of pleasure, a final, shuddering reminder of the intensity that had just consumed you.
“good girl,”
he murmured, his hand gently stroking your back, a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before.
“you did so well for me.”
you smiled weakly, your body exhausted, completely limp with pins and needles.
“thank you, sir.”
you whispered, your voice soft and content.
as you caught your breath, the reality of your situation slowly crept back into your mind, his words imprinting themselves in your brain. the report, the sloppy, error-ridden report that lay on the desk, taunting you with its incompetence.
trembling half naked, pearly white release dripping down your shaking knees, you reached for the red pen, its cap already off, ready for you to fulfill your duty, to properly please him. but as you began to correct yourself, your hand shook, and the lines you drew were shaky and uncertain. the more you tried to fix it, the worse it seemed to get. the words blurred before your eyes, and you found yourself making more mistakes than you were correcting.
“sir,”
you said, your voice barely above a whisper,
“i can’t... i can’t fix this. it’s a mess.”
he snickered, an obvious ridicule of your futile attempt at completing the task at hand, suddenly remembering your position as subordinate.
“of course, you can’t. you’re pathetic, just like your work.”
his hand snuck around to your wet cheeks, streaked and tear stained, gripping your jaw with this forefinger and thumb.
“but you’ll try again, won’t you? you’ll stay here and correct every single error until it’s perfect. because that’s what good girls do, isn’t it?”
you nodded, your eyes stinging with unshed tears.
“yes, sir. i’ll try again.”
he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low whisper.
“and while you’re at it, you can think about how much you want me again. think about how good it felt to be mine. and maybe, just maybe, you’ll do a better job next time.”
you swallowed hard, realizing his words were a deliberate taunt, designed to highlight the very distraction that plagued you. designed to distract you, to pull you away from any hope of efficiency. yet, you were too obedient to dispute him. you'd listen to anything he told you, after all, he was your boss.
“yes, sir. thank you sir. i’ll think about it.”
ill proofread this better ltr oml im so tired... uhhh anyway nin inspired title for day nine cuz i love them!! as u can tell my obsession w mean hotch and dumbification is still alive after yesterdays sweeter fic... hope u enjoyed! (please reblog if you did!)
General Tags: Degradation, Bottom!Hotch, Top!Rossi, established situationship, slight roleplay (Hotch and Rossi acting like they don’t already fuck each other on the regular)
WC: 1.8k
@cmkinkbingo
The bullpen had long gone silent. Past midnight, the glass walls of the BAU reflected the faint golden light of Rossi’s office. One lamp, a half-finished Scotch, two men who had been carrying too much for too long.
Hotch stood near the door, jacket still on, tie slightly loosened. The day’s case had ended, no victory, just closure. Those were never the same thing.
Rossi leaned back in his chair, studying him. “You could go home, you know,” he said. “Jack’s waiting.”
“He’s at Jessica’s tonight.” Hotch’s voice was low, roughened by exhaustion. “I thought I’d finish my report.”
Rossi smiled faintly, that familiar, infuriating mix of warmth and knowing. “You already did. Three hours ago. You’re not here for paperwork.”
Hotch’s jaw tightened. “Don’t start, Dave.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Rossi said, but he rose anyway, coming around the desk. “But you’ve been pacing holes into my carpet since ten o’clock. Something’s eating at you.” Hotch didn’t answer. He only glanced toward the window, dark, their reflections ghosting against the glass. “You ever get tired of being right?”
“Never. Occupational hazard of being me.” Rossi moved closer, slow, deliberate. “Come on, Aaron. Talk to me.”
Hotch gave a small, humorless laugh. “You don’t want to hear it.”
“I’ve heard worse,” Rossi said softly. “Hell, I’ve been worse.”
That broke something small and fragile in the silence. Hotch exhaled, eyes closing. “It’s never enough. The work. The cases. I tell myself it matters, but every time we stop one, I see ten more waiting. And I can’t stop thinking, what’s the point of surviving if all we do is bleed for it?”
Rossi’s expression shifted, understanding, but no pity. He stepped closer, close enough that Hotch could smell the oak and smoke of his Scotch. “You think I haven’t asked myself that for thirty years?” Hotch’s lips parted, but no words came. Rossi’s hand came to rest against his armfirm, grounding. The contact was small, almost innocent, but the air around them thickened.
“You hold the line for everyone,” Rossi said quietly. “Sometimes you forget someone needs to hold you.”
Hotch opened his eyes, and the look there, worn down, raw, yearning, made Rossi’s pulse stutter. There was always control with Aaron. Always walls. Tonight, they were thin as glass.
“Dave…” His voice was warning, plea, and surrender in one.
Rossi didn’t move back. “You don’t have to be alone in this office pretending you’re made of steel. Not with me.”
Hotch gave a small, shaking laugh. “You really think I’m pretending?”
Rossi’s hand slid up, to Hotch’s shoulder now. The gesture was firm, claiming, and yet gentler than it should have been. “Yeah. Because if you weren’t, you’d already have broken.”
They stood there, two men who had seen too much, shared too many scars, the silence between them speaking in a language older than trust. Hotch’s breath slowed; Rossi’s stayed steady, measured, deliberate.
“You should go home,” Rossi murmured again, but the tone said the opposite.
Hotch’s eyes lifted to his, searching. “You don’t mean that.”
“No,” Rossi admitted. “I don’t.” The words hung there, suspended, trembling. Hotch’s restraint wavered. His hand came up, hesitant, as though afraid of what it meant, and brushed Rossi’s sleeve. That single touch carried years of restraint collapsing.
Rossi didn’t move. He only tilted his head, watching Hotch’s composure unravel by degrees. “You’re shaking.”
“I shouldn’t be here,” Hotch said, voice hoarse.
“And yet here you are.” Rossi’s reply was quiet, almost kind. “Maybe stop thinking about what you should do for once.”
Hotch’s laugh was barely a sound. He looked away, jaw clenched. “You make it sound easy.”
“It’s never easy,” Rossi said, stepping closer still, until there was barely space between them. “But it’s real.”
That was what finally did it, the word real. Hotch turned, closing the space in an instant. Their foreheads touched, breath mingling, tension coiling like a drawn wire. There was no kiss, no overt motion, but everything in the room leaned toward it, the inevitability, the gravity between them. The office felt smaller now, the lamplight softer. Somewhere beyond the glass, the city went on breathing. Rossi exhaled slowly, feeling Hotch’s shoulders finally, finally loosen beneath his hand.
“You’re allowed to need someone,” Rossi murmured.
Hotch’s voice came back barely audible. “And if that someone is you?”
Rossi’s eyes closed briefly, as if steadying himself. “Then we handle it. Like everything else.”
Silence again. The kind that says more than speech. Hotch drew back just enough to look at him, searching his face for judgment, for regret, found none. Only calm, steady patience, and something deeper. Respect, maybe. Something dangerously close to affection.
“I’m not good at this,” Hotch admitted. “Letting go.”
Rossi’s answer came with a small, wry smile. “You don’t have to be good at it. Just honest.”
Hotch nodded. “I can do that.”
“Good.” Rossi’s hand fell away slowly, though the warmth lingered. “Then maybe we both get a little peace tonight.”
Hotch’s gaze lingered, long and unreadable. Then, softer: “You should lock your door, Dave.”
Rossi’s brows lifted. “That a request or an order?”
Hotch’s expression flickered, something like a smile ghosted across it. “Both.”
Rossi chuckled low, shaking his head. “You really haven’t changed.”
“No,” Hotch said quietly. “I’ve just stopped pretending I could.”
He turned toward the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. For a heartbeat, Rossi thought he would leave. Instead, Hotch glanced back over his shoulder, eyes dark and steady. When Rossi spoke again, it was barely a whisper. “You sure about this?”
Hotch’s answer was wordless. His steps steady. His hand came up, rough against Rossi’s jaw, and that was enough, the decision made, the years of denial collapsing under their own weight.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t neat. It was a breaking point. Rossi met it halfway, one hand braced against Hotch’s chest, feeling the sharp rhythm of his heart. It wasn’t about possession or dominance; it was survival, connection, the kind that burns and steadies all at once.
Hotch’s other hand tangled in Rossi’s sleeve, grounding himself like he might fall otherwise. There was nothing practiced about it, nothing patient, just two men who had spent too long building walls finally tearing one down.
When they broke apart, breathless, neither spoke. The silence afterward was heavier than the kiss, filled with everything it meant and everything it risked. Rossi’s voice was hoarse. “You’ve got terrible timing.”
Hotch almost smiled. “Story of my life.”
Rossi didn’t hold back this time, lips slamming to the other, hands both gentle and firm, pulling Hotch impossible closer, working away the belt that stood so defiantly in his way. And Hotch? His kisses were desperate, his hands even more so, pulling and tugging, soft moans slipping past his lips, hips arching into the other’s hand.
“Bend over the desk.” Rossi breathed out, with Hotch’s cock in his big, warm hand, lazily stroking it, “bend over, and just shut your mind off.” He was already a mess, whimpering, trembling. Eyes screwed shut as he relished the touch to his neglected cock, he nodded shakily, biting back some sob that tried to bubble up when his aching need only slapped up against his stomach. He was careful to step fully out of his pants and boxers that he didn’t even recall fully looking at his ankles, his own need surging as he heard the familiar clinking of a belt being undone then hitting the floor.
“Relax for me,” Rossi’s voice sounded so far as he was in the filing cabinet he hid the lube, “you can do that, can’t you?”
“Y-yes.” Aaron stammered, bent over, cock leaking precum already, hands splayed out against the desk, his hips jerking forward out of instinct when Rossi was behind him. “Don’t want prep, god, please. I just. Ruin me, fuck. Dave.” He babbled out, mind already going blank at just the other being near.
“Desperate, just how I love you.” Rossi murmured, however ignoring Hotch begged for no prep, “you know better than to ask that of me, especially when it’s been so long.”
“Dave, please! I swear, I can take it… been…” Rossi seemed to know when Hotch trailed off, when that shyness took over. Without even looking, he knew the other was a blushing mess.
“Oh, you’ve been letting a toy fill you haven’t you?” He chuckled darkly, lube coating his fingers, stroking his own thick cock lazily as Hotch nodded furiously, squirming in place.
A firm hand pressed to Hotch’s back, making his hips stop and a sharp gasp escape him. “Please, Dave…”
Aaron wouldn’t have to beg again, lube dripping onto his needy, puckering hole, a familiar stretch and burn as Rossi finally entered him. And Hotch, usually composed and quieter couldn’t help the loud moan that ripped through him, the way his body arched back to make sure he took every, single inch.
“Shut up.” Rossi all but growled, a sharp bite to the other’s still clothed shoulder, a hand clamping around his mouth firmly, before damn near pulling out. The other whined, thinking it was a punishment before a sharp cry muffled against the Italian’s hand when he was roughly thrusted back into, his own hands clawing at the desk, his hips jerking back.
“No fucking toy fills you like I do.” Rossi growled out, hips snapping forward repeatedly, the desk shaking beneath them, his hand moving to grip Aaron’s jaw hard, letting the other speak and breathe more easily.
“N-no, it doesn’t— Dave, fuck more—“ Hotch was gone, completely empty other that the lust for the older man, his coworker, his lover. “Missed your cock so much.” He whined, his own hand reaching down, stroking himself in time with the thrusts. “We’ve been so busy, didn’t think you’d have time for- ah right there!!”
That seemed to only spur Rossi on, hands gripping into Hotch’s hips so hard they’d leave bruises, hips snapping back and forth with a new agression the other was happy to take.
“Not have time?” Rossi growled out, “when do I never have time to fuck you? We always play this fucking game, like it’s your first time learning how much you love when I own you.” He got a loud moan in response, Hotch whining and stroking himself faster. “Always act like you don’t go stupid thinking about what I do to you. But I never forget, I remember each and every time you cum screaming my name. Each time I fill you up like the whore you are.”
“Dave!” Hotch cried out, degradation had always been his weakness and now, between the harsh words and Rossi’s thrusts, Hotch wouldn’t last long.
“Say it, you love being my fucking whore, love going home gaping from my cock and you’d be nothing more than a cock warming slut if you had it your way-“
“YES!!” Thick, heavy, hot ropes of cum spilled from Hotch, he was clenching so tightly around Rossi, the other, for a moment, could have believed he’d never leave as he slammed purposely into Hotch’s prostate before his own release came over him. Hotch moaning and whining as he felt it all, every strong spurt of cum, pressing against his prostate, begging to just stay in him.
“Good boy.” Rossi breathed out, sweat holding them together, his head against Hotch’s shoulder, lips pressing soft kisses.
“… come home with me tonight?” Hotch asked, almost shy.
“Only if you like breakfast sex.” The other retorted with a gentle smile, “I’ll come home every night.”
It was nearly day seven of the case. You were exhausted and stressed, so much so that you hardly thought your brain was working anymore.
Your stress was not lost on JJ and Emily, who had noticed when you were nearly pulling your hair out in the station. Unbeknownst to you, they came up with a plan.
That night, while pacing your hotel room, you were snapped out of your thoughts by a knock at the door. You don’t even have the mind to check the peephole before opening the door to see the two of them standing outside your door.
“Oh, hi,” you say, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Is everything alright?”
“Case wise? Yes,” Emily says, walking into your room, setting a duffel bag onto your desk. “But with you, I don’t think so.”
“I guess I’ve been a bit tired,” you say, watching JJ shut the door.
“We’ve noticed,” Emily says sitting down on your bed.
“We thought you might need some help destressing,” JJ adds.
You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think I follow.”
The two exchange a smirk.
“You don’t?”
Feeling their eyes on you, your cheeks heat up. “You don’t mean…”
Emily nods, standing up and slinking toward you. “Come here.”
You obey, walking over to her. A hand tentatively reaches out, brushing her dark hair behind her ear.
“You really think we wouldn’t see the ways your eyes roam over us?” Emily tugs at the hem of your pajama top. “We thought we’d give you what you want.”
You help her get your shirt over your head. Since you were about to go to bed, you didn’t have a bra on. The prickling gaze of the two women falls on your breasts.
Emily’s lips curl into a grin. “Isn’t she pretty?”
“Gorgeous,” JJ replies, starting to unbutton her own top. “I’m getting ideas.”
Emily laughs in response, getting your pants and underwear off. “To the bed,” Emily guides.
You nod, sitting down on the hotel bed.
Sliding her belt off, JJ speaks up. “When you’re staring at us, what are you thinking about?”
You pause, swallowing thickly. “I think about… the two of you together,” you say, a blush littering your cheeks.
“Together,” Emily repeats. “By together, you mean fucking?”
Your breath catches in your throat, and you can only imagine that you’ve flushed a deep red.
The two smile at your reaction, a silent acknowledgement passing between them to indulge your fantasies.
Emily walks over to JJ, toying with the strap of her bra. JJ’s arms wrap around her, tugging her pants off.
“You’re eager,” Emily comments, reaching around to get JJ’s bra off.
“So are you,” she responds.
You can’t tear your eyes from the sight of them undressing each other. Part of you thinks it must be a prank, that there’s no way they’re really doing this for you. But you know it’s real. It’s more real than anything you’ve seen in a while.
Once they’re fully undressed, you only have a moment to admire their bodies before JJ leans in and captures Emily’s lips in a kiss. Their arms are wrapped around each other, hands roaming and squeezing any skin they can find.
You’d always thought they must have something happening behind closed doors, but you threw it out as wishful thinking. But now, watching the heavy breaths catch in their chests as they pull away from the kiss, you realize this is more than just a one time thing. Your fantasies have been happening in the hotel rooms beside yours, a thin wall the only thing separating you and the two of them as their warm bodies pressed against each other.
They see your wide eyes, and smile identical smiles. Both of them crawl onto the bed.
“I’ve got half a mind to just have her watch,” JJ says, “but I don’t think I can resist a girl like her.”
Emily gives a hum in approval, leaning back against the headboard as JJ pushes you down onto your back.
Her hands cup your breasts, fingers running over the soft skin. Your nipples harden at the contact. JJ seems fascinated with the sight.
She sinks down to the floor, pulling you to the edge of the bed. She gets on her knees, leaning in to kiss up your thighs.
Your legs mindlessly part, gazing down at the blonde leaning in to suckling at your clit. You gasp, your fingers digging into the bedsheets.
Emily’s eyes watch as your face contorts in pleasure, each of your moans going straight to her core. She bites her bottom lip, knowing all too well the motions JJ is using on you. She can imagine the way her tongue must be alternating between circling your clit and flicking against your opening.
Knowing what JJ is doing to you has Emily soaked, her breath speeding up as a hand goes to lightly touch herself. She watches as your hips start to rock against JJ’s face, whines rising in pitch.
JJ can feel the pulsing of your cunt around her tongue. The pool of heat in your lower stomach is making it impossible for you to keep quiet. Every flick of her tongue feels like it’s been expertly practiced to keep you speeding toward your climax.
With a cry, you come, legs locking around the blonde’s head. Your brain leaves you as you go limp against the bed. JJ keeps her mouth on you until she hears a small whimper from the overstimulation.
When you come, Emily is right behind you, two fingers deep inside her pussy. All it takes is the sight of your open mouth for her to fall off the edge, a low moan leaving her.
Once she recovers, she goes to the duffel bag she brought into your room. While you’re still catching your breath, she pulls on her strap, joining JJ at the edge of the bed.
“My turn,” Emily says definitively. JJ gets off her knees, letting Emily stand between your legs. She leans down, parting your pussy lips to get a better look at your spasming hole.
Once she’s satisfied her craving to observe you, she gets onto the bed, hovering above you. She pushes her hips toward you, the tip of the strap poking in your most sensitive area.
“You know, it’d be greedy for you to just take while the two of us give,” she says, squeezing the fat of your hip. “Maybe you should give back.”
You gaze up at Emily with blown-out pupils, nodding mindlessly. At that moment, you’d probably agree to anything.
Emily gives JJ a look. There’s that understanding again. They seem to know each other well enough to communicate without as much of a word.
JJ sits on the bed right beside you. She simply watches as Emily spreads your legs, pushing in the tip of the strap. A small whimper leaves your lips as you feel the stretching to accommodate the size of the dildo.
Emily sinks in slowly, watching the way your hole expands around the pink silicone. Your back lifts off the mattress, the feeling of her filling you up reaching every limb.
You’re watching, too. You can’t tear your eyes from the harness around her hips, the thin trail of dark hair extending up from where the ring holds the dildo in place.
You look up at her brown eyes, the deep color turning almost completely black as she observes the pleasure that’s written all over your face.
Once she bottoms out, she leans back, giving a short nod to JJ. She takes the cue, moving so a knee is on each side of your head. This must be that repayment they were talking about earlier.
Gazing upwards, you can see the glistening droplets along JJ’s folds. “You ready?”
“Mhm,” is all you can say, pleasure disconnecting the words from your lips.
JJ sits down, and your hands instantly reach to hold her hips. You groan as you taste her, tongue clumsily pushing against her clit.
Just when you almost find a rhythm in the way you’re eating her out, Emily starts to thrust. You moan as the feeling of the silicone dragging against your walls, and the vibrations go straight to JJ’s core. She gives a small whine, and your hold on her hips tightens.
You adjust so your mouth is over her entrance while your nose bumps against her clit. As you lick over her fluttering entrance, the tip of your nose rubs against the hardening mound.
Emily’s motions speed up as she watches JJ ride your face. You focus on matching your tongue’s pushes into her with this movement of Emily’s hips. As the tip of the dildo reaches deep inside you, your tongue explores the plush walls above you.
Your mouth starts to get greedy, desperate to keep tasting JJ. You’re sure the taste of her has you even more soaked than you ever thought possible. Luckily for JJ, your enthusiasm has her teetering on the edge of her orgasm.
“Fuck,” is the only warning she gives out before you hear a moan and feel your face get even more soaked than before. Her hands grip your hair as her hips ride your face, thoughtlessly rutting as pleasure washes over her.
When Emily sees the sight of JJ coming on your mouth, she can’t help but speed up her thrusts. JJ’s head is rolled back, her eyes closed in pleasure. It’s a sight she’s seen countless times, but it’s always as enjoyable as the first time.
JJ rolls off of you when she can think again, laying against the headboard, in the same position Emily was in earlier.
The sight before her is nothing short of sinful. Your mouth is coated in her slick, the lights reflecting a droplet of wetness falling from the corner of your mouth down your cheek. Your back is arched, and with your lips now free, moans echo through the room. Emily’s got one of your legs hooked over your shoulder, and the sound of her skin slapping against yours is loud enough that she almost worries the room over can hear it.
You can hardly think at this point. Every sense is focused on the feeling of Emily fucking you. And she truly is fucking you. Her entire mission, her whole body, is zeroed in on the exclusive task of getting you to come around her fake cock. She can see your chest beginning to flush red, heat wrapping around every inch of your skin.
“Come,” Emily gently commands.
And who are you to say no to the girl who’s fucking you so well?
Your second orgasm of the night overtakes you, even stronger than the first. Your vision goes black and wetness gushes out of you. The force washes away any tension in your body, and every inch of you trembles as Emily pulls out and drops the harness to the floor.
When your vision makes its return, you see Emily and JJ laying beside you. You’re in the middle of a sandwich of warm bodies. You glance at each of them, all three of you panting slightly.
JJ is the first to laugh. A small giggle escapes her lips as you lock eyes, and it spreads to you, and then Emily.
You’re not even sure what you’re laughing at. Maybe it’s the ridiculousness of three coworkers breaking the rules out of desperation, or maybe you’re all just giddy with pleasure. Whatever it is, it’s contagious.
Even when the laughter dies, you’re all three stuck with satisfied smiles on your faces. It’s as if all the stress of the job walked out the door, a calm wave washing over the bed where you lay.
“That was… something,” is all you can think of to say.
“It was something, alright,” JJ says.
“You know, I wouldn’t mind if the two of you helped me destress more often.”
“Just like I said,” Emily starts, “we’ve got quite the greedy girl on our hands.”
JJ lets out a small chuckle. “I don’t think any of us will mind.”
can u do some perv!alex blake hcs pls? i love ur perv hcs smmm
.ᐟ MDNI .ᐟ
ahhh i'm so happy you enjoy the perv hcs, they're so fun 🤭 i love doing them for other cm characters so i hope you enjoy these ones for blake!! ˙⋆✮
her way of perversion is sophisticated : alex is a highly educated woman and she carries herself as such. she is mature, professional, and has been around long enough to know how she wants to be perceived. this sophistication seeps into how she goes about her obsession with you. she is strategic about things, as well as sly. she mulls it over and figures out how to do it with precision, ensuring you don't have even the slightest clue.
her place is a good crashpad : alex doesn't live far from quantico, where you on the other hand have a bit of a jaunt to get to work. when you get in late from a case and are expected to be back at 8am it only makes more sense that you have a shortened trip, and alex is happy to host you anytime. the domestic nature of getting ready for work together not only makes her swoon, but once you're back to your own place she goes feral over the guest bed you slept in. she grinds herself on the sheets, inhales your scent on the pillows, and simply makes a mess knowing you were right there just nights ago.
close yet far : you would acknowledge alex as a good friend, but she acts the opposite any day that you're wearing a skirt. she deliberately sits across the room from you, hoping you'll change positions every once in a while and accidentally flash her your lace clad pussy. she has to squirm in her own seat when she spots it, especially if a little wet spot is visible.
thief alert : alex may be sly with it, but she loves to take your clothes. if your sweater is lying around and you haven't touched it for hours she's snatching it and pretending like she has no idea where it went. you even make it easier sometimes when you're staying over and you misplace a pair of your panties under the bed. she wears your clothes while she toys with her pussy, feeling as though you're right there talking her through it and feeling how soaked she is for you.
