It’s not supposed to be like this. Erin knows that more than she wants to admit, but there’s something strangely soothing about the way Linda looks at her. She’s still tense, she will always be tense, but once the office door clicks shut and locked, she can’t help letting Linda take control of the situation.
Linda’s kiss is demanding, claiming in ways that Erin knows she should hate… she doesn’t hate it. Truth be told, she likes it. She settles easily onto Linda’s desk, her thighs spreading open even as she tries to tell herself to resist. She doesn’t resist.
Linda’s touch feels like possession in a way Erin never knew she wanted, she’s quick to kiss Linda, silencing herself before she can moan even as Linda presses into her, the pace firm and commanding, quick enough to feel just slightly rushed. They should be working, they both should, but Linda’s possessive love makes it impossible to care.
It’s not the done thing to share beds. Everyone knows that, but Elle Greenaway’s never really cared what people think about her and her habits, especially when it comes to someone like Katie Cole.
Katie looks at her like she matters, it’s so rare now, since the Fisher King case, so Elle finds every excuse to grab the first key and Katie’s hand, leading her away, not caring about the team staring as she walks away. They have to stay overnight even with the case closed, so she’ll take the chance.
She’s quiet as she changes into her sleepwear, aware of Katie changing behind her, she relaxes only when Katie settles beside her on the bed, her arm curling around Elle like it’s natural.
Nobody will know what they do here, so Katie’s gentle affection helps. The quiet of the room is broken only with hushed whispers and small giggles, Elle relaxing even as Katie takes control of the situation. Usually Elle would take the lead, but she has to admit the easy, slow, tender touches Katie gives her feel healing.
Katie’s fingers skim over her wound, Katie’s lips brush her neck and even as she relaxes into it, she finds that she finds peace in the simple exchange of gentle comforting love.
Later, after she walks away from the BAU, from the FBI, she walks back into Katie’s life, pushing her into the bedroom like it’s simple. Katie left the FBI soon after her and she can’t ignore the draw to share the bed again, especially when they don’t have to be quiet anymore.
Katie’s moans sound like music to her ears even as she takes her time, pressing slow, lingering kisses to every inch of the other woman’s skin, mapping it like it’s perfect. To her it is.
It’s been years since Elle left the BAU. Another of Hotch’s casualties. So when she sees the team leave London, she follows the trail, finding Kate Joyner alone and hurting. She’s not able to walk anymore, but she’s alive.
There’s gloves on her wounded hands, hands burnt by the same bomb that exploded her back into tiny fragments of bone. She’s quiet for a moment, watching Kate closely, then moves closer when the woman hides away in her hospital room.
She creeps to the nurses station first, registering herself as Kate’s proper contact, as her wife, then makes her way to the room, knocking softly before entering the room. She kneels by the woman’s side, tucking hair from her face and waiting for Kate to look at her.
“You okay?”
“I… No.”
Kate looks away then speaks in a voice both soft and broken.
“Who’ll want me now?”
“Me…”
Elle’s voice is soft, her fingers brushing against the gloves covering Kate’s hands.
“Look at you, you survived… besides, the gloves are kinda sexy actually.”
How To Save A Life (Eat Her Out) - Tara Lewis/JJ Jareau
A/N: Fic 4 of many for @cmkinkbingo. (Also tagging @blackbird-brewster since that's how I even stumbled into shipping Jara)
Tara has been watching JJ overthink for a while before she moves to pull JJ closer, positioning her perfectly to settle sitting over her face, her voice soft before she gets to work.
“You gotta stop thinking Jayje…”
She’s quick to get into her work, enjoying the sound of JJ’s moans as she finally, finally stops thinking so hard. It’s easy to be this passionate with JJ, the woman is gorgeous and always at least a little stressed, moments like this let her help JJ whilst enjoying the feeling of loving her. She’s still there almost an hour later, her intentional focus rewarded with enough orgasms from JJ that by the time JJ moves to settle into her arms, she looks completely relaxed.
I Know That I Got Issues (But Your Pretty Messed Up Too) - Elle Greenaway/JJ Jareau
A/N: Another fic for @cmkinkbingo
It comes after an intense case. JJ breaks faster than usual and Elle doesn’t stop to think, dropping the BDSM situation quickly as she moves to let her up, wrapping soft blankets around JJ’s shoulders and fetching cool water and a washcloth to clean her up gently. She’s quiet as she leaves the room to fetch food and water for JJ, settling by her side when JJ looks up at her with bright, sad, eyes.
“Jayje…”
Elle’s voice is a caress, soft and warm and full of love.
“You didn’t have to…”
“I thought I could handle it.”
JJ sounds small, miserable and Elle wraps a gentle arm around her as she eats and drinks, stroking her hair softly.
“It’s okay Jayje, it’s not like I haven’t tapped out a few times.”
It’s not entirely clear when it started, not to people who know them. Katie Cole knows exactly what happened and when. How she had slowly slipped from ‘just friends’ into friends with benefits, to loving Kate Joyner.
They find excuses to walk alone, talking about the case until they are safely behind closed doors, Katie’s patience breaks the second the door locks, her hands roaming slowly over Kate’s hips and lower, slipping under her skirt like a secret. Kate is quick to kiss her, muting the sounds of her pleasure even as Katie takes control. She loves these moments, the times she can just be relaxed and trust Katie to take care of her and her needs, needs she usually stifles.
Release hits her like a brick, Katie quick to grip her waist, supporting her even as her legs give way, her chuckle low and sweetly warm.
“Good girl.”
Peeping Jennifer - Emily Prentiss/Tara Lewis/Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau
A/N: Another fic for @cmkinkbingo
Usually JJ would pretend not to be watching them, usually she’d leave and pretend to have mixed up rooms but this time she stays, she’s silent, hovering in the doorway of the bathroom as she watches the way Emily arches to Tara’s touches, watches the way Tara touches Emily just firmly enough to make her moan, watches the way both women respect each other.
She would never admit to having a voyeuristic side, but with Emily and Tara, she can’t quite help it. She’s quieter still when they finish, moving to slip into the other bed, curling to hide her face as she considers what she just saw, she considers what she’s feeling now and then, finally, after a long moment, admits she wanted them both.
She wakes up sandwiched between them, her blush softened only by the smile on her face. She may, she thinks now, have been less subtle than she planned.
Here goes my second response to the Criminal MInds Kink Bingo 2025 challenge. And since my brain has been hijacked by two fandoms of late, being Criminal Minds and Stargate Atlantis, it came up with a new universe. 'Cause yeah... the muse is strange and I am insane enough to go with the flow. So, the above moodboard happened and then this kinky story followed.
Summary
In an alternate universe SSA Aaron Hotchner went to Pakistan, but he ended up kidnapped then used for a bargaining chip by rebels. His negotiated freedom comes burdened with flashbacks of mistreatment and his grief for those who didn't make it out as well as the loss of custody over his son Jack and his 'forced' retirement from the FBI/BAU.
In this same universe Major John Sheppard went against the orders from his superiors, flying behind enemy lines to rescue his medic in the army friend slash secret male lover (due to Don't Ask Don't Tell)… except his helicopter got shot down. Since then he's an injured US Air Force veteran with a black mark on his record.
And now? In Las Vegas the paths of these two traumatised men collide at full throttle. At the night scene of illegal street races. From behind the wheel. In a world of speed, cars, poker, rivalry, hotel rooms and sex.
Warning/tags
Explicit, duh, with LOTS of kinks inside... some of which are unsafe. So heed the tags on AO3
Read Breathless here
Elle Greenaway had never really expected to end up as the sugarbaby of someone working at the BAU, but since she had quit and walked away she had been working solo, taking on mercenary work, so when she came face to face with Alex Blake the first time, it had been surprisingly tempting to drop her guard.
Now, as she settles into Alex’s lap, pressing her lips to the side of Alex’s neck, she has to admit misbehaving for Alex feels far better than taking on jobs that could get her killed. Here she’s safe, even if she’s not exactly fully dressed most days.
Alex’s fingers curl through her hair, hair she’s let grow out again and she almost moans into Alex’s neck, pressing herself down further over Alex’s thigh. It’s soft, it’s sweet but it’s passionate.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
"Hey, pretty boy, I missed you," Derek murmurs, pulling him in so he's awkwardly in Derek's lap.
Spencer smiles and adjusts before leaning in for a kiss hello. The hand on his waist is rubbing distracting circles on his waist, and Derek tastes faintly of the sour cream and onion chips he'd spotted and–
"Are you high?"
His high pitched voice makes Derek laugh, the low sound curling up somewhere firmly in the depths of Spencer's gut in a way he doesn't want to examine.
Response to the CM Kink Bingo 2025 challenge. Also my first ever attempt at a 5+1 things story. Ha! It was a fun way to cross off six squares on my bingo card.
Warnings
Grant Anderson/Aaron Hotchner, kink inside, mild dom/sub, clothing kink, sensation play, tantric sex, feather play, sounding, rimming, cock rings, orgasm denial... and some more. Pls heed tags on AO3.
Summary
Five times Anderson has a sensual fantasy about Aaron Hotchner and one time where he gets to have the real thing… except it's a case of 'Be careful what you wish for'.
Read on AO3
Tara's doing a lot of things she swore she'd never do. Like sleeping with a co-worker or having sex at work. At least she's not in love with her. Right?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Another for @cmkinkbingo
Squares: Body Worship, Workplace Sex, Hand Fetish, Oral Fixation
Getting close to a Bingo!
Asks are still open if anyone has any suggestions for f/f pairings.
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.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hotch wants to try something new and Emily happily assists.
This isn't for everyone but hey it's Kink Bingo so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also Hotchniss! I enjoyed writing them, I must admit. For my Anon, who asked ever so nicely <3
Also:
THAT'S A BINGO! And more to come, but this is my backlog done so you get a break for now lmao.
