Itâs not supposed to be like this. Erin knows that more than she wants to admit, but thereâs something strangely soothing about the way Linda looks at her. Sheâs still tense, she will always be tense, but once the office door clicks shut and locked, she canât help letting Linda take control of the situation.
Lindaâs kiss is demanding, claiming in ways that Erin knows she should hate⊠she doesnât hate it. Truth be told, she likes it. She settles easily onto Lindaâs desk, her thighs spreading open even as she tries to tell herself to resist. She doesnât resist.
Lindaâs touch feels like possession in a way Erin never knew she wanted, sheâs 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 Lindaâs possessive love makes it impossible to care.
Itâs not the done thing to share beds. Everyone knows that, but Elle Greenawayâs 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, itâs so rare now, since the Fisher King case, so Elle finds every excuse to grab the first key and Katieâs 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 sheâll take the chance.
Sheâs 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 itâs natural.
Nobody will know what they do here, so Katieâs 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.
Katieâs fingers skim over her wound, Katieâs 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 Katieâs life, pushing her into the bedroom like itâs simple. Katie left the FBI soon after her and she canât ignore the draw to share the bed again, especially when they donât have to be quiet anymore.
Katieâs moans sound like music to her ears even as she takes her time, pressing slow, lingering kisses to every inch of the other womanâs skin, mapping it like itâs perfect. To her it is.
Itâs been years since Elle left the BAU. Another of Hotchâs casualties. So when she sees the team leave London, she follows the trail, finding Kate Joyner alone and hurting. Sheâs not able to walk anymore, but sheâs alive.
Thereâs gloves on her wounded hands, hands burnt by the same bomb that exploded her back into tiny fragments of bone. Sheâs 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 Kateâs proper contact, as her wife, then makes her way to the room, knocking softly before entering the room. She kneels by the womanâs side, tucking hair from her face and waiting for Kate to look at her.
âYou okay?â
âI⊠No.â
Kate looks away then speaks in a voice both soft and broken.
âWhoâll want me now?â
âMeâŠâ
Elleâs voice is soft, her fingers brushing against the gloves covering Kateâs hands.
âLook at you, you survived⊠besides, the gloves are kinda sexy actually.â
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.
âYou gotta stop thinking JayjeâŠâ
Sheâs quick to get into her work, enjoying the sound of JJâs moans as she finally, finally stops thinking so hard. Itâs 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. Sheâs 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 doesnât stop to think, dropping the BDSM situation quickly as she moves to let her up, wrapping soft blankets around JJâs shoulders and fetching cool water and a washcloth to clean her up gently. Sheâs 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.
âJayjeâŠâ
Elleâs voice is a caress, soft and warm and full of love.
âYou didnât have toâŠâ
âI thought I could handle it.â
JJ sounds small, miserable and Elle wraps a gentle arm around her as she eats and drinks, stroking her hair softly.
âItâs okay Jayje, itâs not like I havenât tapped out a few times.â
Itâs 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 âjust friendsâ 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, Katieâs patience breaks the second the door locks, her hands roaming slowly over Kateâs 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.
âGood girl.â
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 sheâd leave and pretend to have mixed up rooms but this time she stays, sheâs silent, hovering in the doorway of the bathroom as she watches the way Emily arches to Taraâs 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 canât quite help it. Sheâs 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 sheâs 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 Alexâs lap, pressing her lips to the side of Alexâs neck, she has to admit misbehaving for Alex feels far better than taking on jobs that could get her killed. Here sheâs safe, even if sheâs not exactly fully dressed most days.
Alexâs fingers curl through her hair, hair sheâs let grow out again and she almost moans into Alexâs neck, pressing herself down further over Alexâs thigh. Itâs soft, itâs sweet but itâs 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 andâ
"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 donât 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 Rossiâs 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 dayâs case had ended, no victory, just closure. Those were never the same thing.
Rossi leaned back in his chair, studying him. âYou could go home, you know,â he said. âJackâs waiting.â
âHeâs at Jessicaâs tonight.â Hotchâs voice was low, roughened by exhaustion. âI thought Iâd finish my report.â
Rossi smiled faintly, that familiar, infuriating mix of warmth and knowing. âYou already did. Three hours ago. Youâre not here for paperwork.â
âWouldnât dream of it,â Rossi said, but he rose anyway, coming around the desk. âBut youâve been pacing holes into my carpet since ten oâclock. Somethingâs eating at you.â Hotch didnât answer. He only glanced toward the window, dark, their reflections ghosting against the glass. âYou ever get tired of being right?â
âNever. Occupational hazard of being me.â Rossi moved closer, slow, deliberate. âCome on, Aaron. Talk to me.â
Hotch gave a small, humorless laugh. âYou donât want to hear it.â
âIâve heard worse,â Rossi said softly. âHell, Iâve been worse.â
That broke something small and fragile in the silence. Hotch exhaled, eyes closing. âItâs never enough. The work. The cases. I tell myself it matters, but every time we stop one, I see ten more waiting. And I canât stop thinking, whatâs the point of surviving if all we do is bleed for it?â
Rossiâs expression shifted, understanding, but no pity. He stepped closer, close enough that Hotch could smell the oak and smoke of his Scotch. âYou think I havenât asked myself that for thirty years?â Hotchâs lips parted, but no words came. Rossiâs hand came to rest against his armfirm, grounding. The contact was small, almost innocent, but the air around them thickened.
âYou hold the line for everyone,â Rossi said quietly. âSometimes you forget someone needs to hold you.â
Hotch opened his eyes, and the look there, worn down, raw, yearning, made Rossiâs pulse stutter. There was always control with Aaron. Always walls. Tonight, they were thin as glass.
âDaveâŠâ His voice was warning, plea, and surrender in one.
Rossi didnât move back. âYou donât have to be alone in this office pretending youâre made of steel. Not with me.â
Hotch gave a small, shaking laugh. âYou really think Iâm pretending?â
Rossiâs hand slid up, to Hotchâs shoulder now. The gesture was firm, claiming, and yet gentler than it should have been. âYeah. Because if you werenât, youâd already have broken.â
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. Hotchâs breath slowed; Rossiâs stayed steady, measured, deliberate.
âYou should go home,â Rossi murmured again, but the tone said the opposite.
Hotchâs eyes lifted to his, searching. âYou donât mean that.â
âNo,â Rossi admitted. âI donât.â The words hung there, suspended, trembling. Hotchâs restraint wavered. His hand came up, hesitant, as though afraid of what it meant, and brushed Rossiâs sleeve. That single touch carried years of restraint collapsing.
Rossi didnât move. He only tilted his head, watching Hotchâs composure unravel by degrees. âYouâre shaking.â
âI shouldnât be here,â Hotch said, voice hoarse.
âAnd yet here you are.â Rossiâs reply was quiet, almost kind. âMaybe stop thinking about what you should do for once.â
Hotchâs laugh was barely a sound. He looked away, jaw clenched. âYou make it sound easy.â
âItâs never easy,â Rossi said, stepping closer still, until there was barely space between them. âBut itâs real.â
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 Hotchâs shoulders finally, finally loosen beneath his hand.
âYouâre allowed to need someone,â Rossi murmured.
Hotchâs voice came back barely audible. âAnd if that someone is you?â
Rossiâs eyes closed briefly, as if steadying himself. âThen we handle it. Like everything else.â
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.
âIâm not good at this,â Hotch admitted. âLetting go.â
Rossiâs answer came with a small, wry smile. âYou donât have to be good at it. Just honest.â
Hotch nodded. âI can do that.â
âGood.â Rossiâs hand fell away slowly, though the warmth lingered. âThen maybe we both get a little peace tonight.â
Hotchâs gaze lingered, long and unreadable. Then, softer: âYou should lock your door, Dave.â
Rossiâs brows lifted. âThat a request or an order?â
Hotchâs expression flickered, something like a smile ghosted across it. âBoth.â
Rossi chuckled low, shaking his head. âYou really havenât changed.â
âNo,â Hotch said quietly. âIâve just stopped pretending I could.â
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. âYou sure about this?â
Hotchâs answer was wordless. His steps steady. His hand came up, rough against Rossiâs jaw, and that was enough, the decision made, the years of denial collapsing under their own weight.
The kiss wasnât gentle. It wasnât neat. It was a breaking point. Rossi met it halfway, one hand braced against Hotchâs chest, feeling the sharp rhythm of his heart. It wasnât about possession or dominance; it was survival, connection, the kind that burns and steadies all at once.
Hotchâs other hand tangled in Rossiâs 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. Rossiâs voice was hoarse. âYouâve got terrible timing.â
Hotch almost smiled. âStory of my life.â
Rossi didnât 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 otherâs hand.
âBend over the desk.â Rossi breathed out, with Hotchâs cock in his big, warm hand, lazily stroking it, âbend over, and just shut your mind off.â 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 didnât 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.
âRelax for me,â Rossiâs voice sounded so far as he was in the filing cabinet he hid the lube, âyou can do that, canât you?â
âY-yes.â 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. âDonât want prep, god, please. I just. Ruin me, fuck. Dave.â He babbled out, mind already going blank at just the other being near.
âDesperate, just how I love you.â Rossi murmured, however ignoring Hotch begged for no prep, âyou know better than to ask that of me, especially when itâs been so long.â
âDave, please! I swear, I can take it⊠beenâŠâ Rossi seemed to know when Hotch trailed off, when that shyness took over. Without even looking, he knew the other was a blushing mess.
âOh, youâve been letting a toy fill you havenât you?â 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 Hotchâs back, making his hips stop and a sharp gasp escape him. âPlease, DaveâŠâ
Aaron wouldnât 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 couldnât help the loud moan that ripped through him, the way his body arched back to make sure he took every, single inch.
âShut up.â Rossi all but growled, a sharp bite to the otherâs 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 Italianâs hand when he was roughly thrusted back into, his own hands clawing at the desk, his hips jerking back.
âNo fucking toy fills you like I do.â Rossi growled out, hips snapping forward repeatedly, the desk shaking beneath them, his hand moving to grip Aaronâs jaw hard, letting the other speak and breathe more easily.
âN-no, it doesnâtâ Dave, fuck moreââ Hotch was gone, completely empty other that the lust for the older man, his coworker, his lover. âMissed your cock so much.â He whined, his own hand reaching down, stroking himself in time with the thrusts. âWeâve been so busy, didnât think youâd have time for- ah right there!!â
That seemed to only spur Rossi on, hands gripping into Hotchâs hips so hard theyâd leave bruises, hips snapping back and forth with a new agression the other was happy to take.
âNot have time?â Rossi growled out, âwhen do I never have time to fuck you? We always play this fucking game, like itâs your first time learning how much you love when I own you.â He got a loud moan in response, Hotch whining and stroking himself faster. âAlways act like you donât 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.â
âDave!â Hotch cried out, degradation had always been his weakness and now, between the harsh words and Rossiâs thrusts, Hotch wouldnât last long.
âSay it, you love being my fucking whore, love going home gaping from my cock and youâd be nothing more than a cock warming slut if you had it your way-â
âYES!!â Thick, heavy, hot ropes of cum spilled from Hotch, he was clenching so tightly around Rossi, the other, for a moment, could have believed heâd never leave as he slammed purposely into Hotchâs 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.
âGood boy.â Rossi breathed out, sweat holding them together, his head against Hotchâs shoulder, lips pressing soft kisses.
â⊠come home with me tonight?â Hotch asked, almost shy.
âOnly if you like breakfast sex.â The other retorted with a gentle smile, âIâll come home every night.â
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 ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻ 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.
