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masterwords · 21 hours

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It’s time to get kinky! Welcome to Criminal Minds Kink Bingo 2024.

The goal of a bingo challenge is to get a bingo on your card, either by crossing out one line, two lines, or a blackout (full card) by creating fanworks for the prompts randomly provided on the card.

This could be a written piece of a minimum 500 words, a piece of finished art, or another kind of fanwork of your choosing.

Please note that this challenge and blog is for people 18+ only.

Timelines/Deadlines

Until sign ups open, we are accepting kink nominations to be included as options via our ask box. We have a list already, but we will add to it if something is missing.

Sign ups start on May 1st 2024 and will be open until May 15th.

Individual cards will be issued by May 22nd, and the event officially starts on May 26th (you can start creating as soon as you receive your bingo card).

As soon as the event starts on May 26th, you can post fanworks whenever they’re created, in whatever place you prefer. You can tag your fills, bingo updates or WIPs with #cmkinkbingo2024 on tumblr. We also have a collection on AO3 for your works here.

You have until June 23rd 2024 to complete your bingos!

How Bingo Works

Lines can be made by crossing out squares in any direction - horizontal, vertical, or diagonal. To cross out a square, use the prompt on it to create and post a fanwork.

You will choose from a large list of potential prompts, marking the ones you would be happy to have generated on a 5x5 square bingo card. This will also allow you to exclude prompts you would not be happy to have to create for.

While that does mean you could create the perfect bingo card, we encourage you to select upwards of 25 prompts, to allow for some randomness in the challenge.

Every card will have a free space in the middle, where you have the option to choose a prompt yourself.

You can request additional bingo cards if you complete a line, 2 lines or a full house and want to try for a second win!

Rules/Guidelines

No plagiarism, art theft or AI generated content will be tolerated in works for this challenge. Participants/works will be excluded at our discretion in these circumstances.

You can post your fanworks wherever you prefer.

Just like kinks are not always sexual, works do not have to be explicit to be entered. As long as it relates to the prompt, SFW content is entirely allowed.

Some of the kinks utilized in this challenge will fall under “real world” kinks, and others under things considered a kink in the context of fanwork creation.

You are responsible for how much you stick to the spirit of the challenge - ultimately this is meant to be fun, and to spur people to be creative, and create content for a fandom we love!

Safety/Your Kink Is Not My Kink

Some of the kinks listed may indicate extreme, upsetting, triggering content, or content you personally find immoral, or that “squicks” you. You are ultimately responsible for the content you consume - if something is not for you, scroll past and/or use the necessary blocking/muting features to exclude this content from your feed.

Please make sure to tag and rate all works appropriately for their content, such as using Archive of Our Own’s warning, rating and tag system, or tumblr’s ‘read more’ function.

You can add any fills posted on Archive of Our Own to the collection here.

Please check out the Frequently Asked Questions, or send us an ask if you have another question!

#criminal minds #cmkinkbingo2024

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masterwords · 1 day

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11x09 - Internal Affairs

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #screencaps

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masterwords · 1 day

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Hotch and Derek sharing a room on a case and Derek thinking it's the worst at first but finding himself remembering all the weird things he likes about Aaron that he's forgotten over the years that their friendship became distant as Aaron became his boss.

I found this from ages ago in my inbox and had some fun with it, thank you! Pairing: Hotch and Morgan, potentially leading to Hotch/Morgan. Mention of sundown towns and racism, but otherwise pretty fluffy.

"They're short on rooms," Aaron announced, walking away from the counter with a handful of room keys and a sour expression.

He was very careful not to look at Derek, which--along with the fact that they were in Martinsville--made Derek think that perhaps the hotel clerk had said something to Aaron that he wasn't going to repeat.

His assumptions were confirmed a moment later when Aaron handed out the room assignments: "JJ, you're with Prentiss, 204. Dave, Reid, 211. Morgan, you're with me, 115."

The BAU didn't room together on cases, not since Aaron had become SAC and done some sort of bureaucratic magic and gotten their travel stipends increased. Not unless there weren't any rooms. Even then, though, Aaron roomed with Dave and Derek took Spencer and his strangely fastidious mess and endless supply of intellectual superiority.

Though, he mused, Spencer was still better than Dave. Dave's intellectual superiority came without any of Spencer's endearing youth.

"What did he say?" Derek wondered, picking up his bag and hurrying after Aaron down the hall. He could feel the clerk's eyes on the back of his neck, but he knew better than to turn around. It wasn't 1968, but he knew all about Martinsville, and he didn't need to jeopardize the case.

"Nothing," Aaron growled, and somehow increased his pace without breaking into a jog.

Derek opened his mouth to ask again, but then Aaron opened the door to the room and Derek realized he should have stood closer to the check-in counter, because this was one conversation he was sorry to have missed.

"He wouldn't rent me a room," Derek surmised, glancing between Aaron's thunderous expression and the one bed. "And we already tried the hotel down the street -"

"There's a convention," Aaron tried, and Derek rolled his eyes.

"- and we don't have time to visit every hotel in town."

"The local police are supposed to take care of this," Aaron muttered, dropping the words like imprecations from his pursed lips, and Derek barked out a short, humorless laugh.

"They don't want any of us here," Derek pointed out, clapped Aaron on the shoulder and didn't mention the graffiti they'd driven by that had suggested that KKK was far more welcome than Derek in the town.

They had been invited, of course, because Aaron was a stickler for formalities, but they'd been invited by a police officer's angry widow who had called JJ who had convinced Aaron to strong arm an infuriated and emasculated police chief with overwhelming facts. Derek had attempted a version of his "fellow cop" speech and been stonewalled, perhaps an attempt to live up to their Confederate hero's name.

Even the oh so welcoming folks of Martinsville could agree that three dead cops was too many, though, and so they'd grudgingly accepted the BAU's offer to help. They just weren't too keen on having them sleep there, Derek supposed.

It was already pushing midnight, though, and some place to sleep was better than spending the night at the station drowning in burnt coffee and hostile stares. Even if that meant sharing a bed with Aaron Hotchner, something Derek hadn't done in five years.

"Looks cozy," he declared, squeezing Aaron's tense shoulder once before letting go and moving past his boss into the room, slinging his bag down on the dresser and digging in it for his toiletries.

Aaron hummed in what might have been agreement--or disapproval, Derek couldn't always tell these days--and set his duffel on the only available chair.

Then he started unpacking.

"What -" Derek started, and then snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. No way in hell were they spending more than one night in this sundown town, and Derek was spending that one night with his bag packed and his gun near at hand. Why was Aaron hanging up his clothes and sticking a framed picture of Jack in front of the TV?

Except he always had. Memories hit like sawdust on Derek's unprotected face, Aaron unpacking a photograph of Haley that Derek had always assumed Haley had put in the suitcase to remind Aaron not to cheat. Derek and Aaron had shared hotel rooms all the time for three years, especially before they'd gotten the jet, right up until ... Boston.

Boston, when everything Derek knew had been blown to bits, Aaron rising out of the charred wreckage like a phoenix, their new SAC.

"I'm brushing my teeth," Derek mumbled, and ducked into the bathroom before he could watch Aaron set his gun behind the lamp on the nightstand, with his reading glasses and the water cup in case the hotel air was too dry.

He came back out to find that Aaron had assigned them sides of the bed and assigned Derek his extra pajama pants. Derek hadn't forgotten how bossy Aaron was, exactly--it was hard to forget that when the man in question spent every day telling you what to do--but he had forgotten that Aaron was the kind of man to force someone to wear pajamas.

(Derek had expected his own room, and therefore hadn't packed any pajamas. He grudgingly slid into Aaron's and knotted the drawstring, though he was tempted to sleep in his underwear just to prick Aaron's nerves.)

"Hang this up," Aaron commanded, and "this" turned out to be Derek's spare button-down shirt and slacks.

"Are you showering before bed?" Aaron asked, after Derek had stomped over the closet with his own clothes and dramatically dropped them onto hangers and bowed. Technically it was a question, but Derek had worked with Aaron for almost seven years, and he could recognize a polite order when he heard one.

"I could have shared a bed with Reid," he muttered, snagging a towel from the rack and flinging it over his shoulder. "He kicks, and the KKK might have killed us, and it still would have been better than this."

After Derek's shower and Aaron's shower and a somewhat awkward agreement that it was too late at night to review the case again, they climbed into their respective sides of the bed and turned off the lights.

Derek shifted to get the pillow further under his head and accidentally elbowed Aaron in the head.

Aaron twisted onto his side, facing away from Derek, and pulled the sheet completely over to his side of the bed. Derek didn't mention it.

They lay there in increasingly stifling silence. The heater came on, with a faint clacking sound and a faint smell of burning carpet. Aaron sighed, and Derek remembered that he, too, needed to breathe. Aaron bent his leg and realized that he had all the covers, rolled halfway onto Derek as he tried to give them back.

Even Dave might have been better than Aaron, Derek admitted from somewhere underneath his boss's apologetic weight. Dave would have poured himself a drink from somewhere, stolen all of the blankets without remorse, made some sort of uncouth comment comparing Derek to his wives, and started snoring as soon as they'd turned off the lights. Spencer would have kept talking about the case even in his sleep, which would involve less misogyny but also more kicking, and Derek would need at least three energy drinks the next day.

Aaron shuffled back to his side of the bed on his back, but since they were two large men in a queen-sized bed, his side of the bed and Derek's more or less overlapped.

"You normally stick me with Reid," Derek said softly, because the silence was starting to feel like a weight on his chest.

He could feel Aaron's shrug along his arm. "Reid's not an idiot," he replied, equally quiet, as if Derek had suggested that their wunderkind was dumb. "He'd wonder about the bed."

"Why didn't you share this room with Dave?" he asked, because Aaron had a tendency to try to shield people from the world's disdain, and if Derek had shared a room with Spencer then he never would have known.

"Dave would have said something," Aaron admitted, and that was true, "and then you'd have put it together anyway, and been furious with me the whole flight home."

"That was worth sharing a bed with me now?" Derek laughed, a huff of breath between them in the dark, and turned his head in time to catch the flash of Aaron's smile.

"I've gotten you into bed before," Aaron replied cheekily, and Derek was so startled to hear Aaron joking that he choked on his own inhale.

"What?" he managed, still coughing.

Aaron grinned, and Derek rolled on his side to catch a better glimpse of his face in the faint light from the curtain's edge. "Guess I wasn't very memorable," he teased, and twisted his head to look back at Derek. "You don't remember Vredenburgh?"

Oh god. Derek did remember Vredenburgh, a town so small that the post office was only open two afternoons a week, where he and Aaron had shared the backroom of a house owned by a very kind elderly woman who liked to bake. They'd both offered to take the floor, but the carpet made Aaron itch and Derek sneeze, and so they'd slept head to toe on what felt like the world's smallest bed.

It had been Derek's first year at the BAU and Aaron's third. Derek had still thought that Jason hung the moon, but Aaron had thought so, too. There'd been other people on the team, of course, but it had been Derek and Aaron almost from Derek's first day. "Where's Hotch and Morgan?" Jason would ask, like they were the leads in a sitcom about the FBI.

It sure had felt like a sitcom, those nights in Vredenburgh, Aaron insisting that they both shower before bed so their feet wouldn't smell, Derek's arm hooked around Aaron's knees after the one time he'd fallen out of the bed.

Aaron had needed a partner, Derek realized now. He'd had a mentor and he'd had teammates, but Derek had shown up and they had been colleagues, they had been teammates, they had been partners for three years. They had shared dozens of rooms, hundreds of cases, scores of custodial interviews.

Then they'd gone to Boston, and Aaron had come home as SAC, and their partnership had evaporated with every step he'd taken out of the bullpen and up the stairs. And three more years had gone by, and Derek had forgotten about the showers and the beds and about Aaron's habit of forgetting his own lactose intolerance and his ridiculous sense of humor and the fact that he even hung up his ties.

"You wanna smell my feet?" Derek offered, surprised Aaron into laughing out loud.

"I don't think you actually clean your feet," Aaron answered, close enough that Derek could smell the mint toothpaste on his breath. "I think you assume they get clean because you're standing in soapy water."

"You mean they don't?" Derek feigned shock, and they went on like that until the day caught up with them and between one teasing comment and the next, Derek was asleep.

He woke up tangled in the covers and Aaron's legs and his stupid pajama pants, woke up because Aaron nearly fell out of bed and flailed and hit both Derek and his water cup which spilled all over his gun.

"This is the worst," Derek mumbled hoarsely, but he'd learned his lesson years ago, so he tightened his grip on Aaron's waist and dragged them both back into bed.

#hotchgan #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #unbelievable #the way you craft something so simple and so them from a trope that's been done a million times #but never like this..#hugging knees and stinky feet jokes and showers and blanket hogs #😭#in love

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masterwords · 1 day

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Something that really gets to me about Hotch is how patient he is with his team. You never really see him lose his temper with them, even when they lose his temper with him.

Morgan and Reid have both yelled at Hotch but both times he never yelled back, he just calmly told them he values them and that they are misunderstanding his intentions.

He revealed in season 5 that he does his team’s case summaries most of the time so that they can go home when they are meant to, meaning he is always in the office.

He always lets Garcia do her silly bits because he knows it’ll make her day better, and sometimes he will even indulge her by joining in.

He put everything on the line by keeping Reid’s addiction a secret and by not telling anyone about what Elle did.

He did everything he could to protect Emily when her life was in danger.

When a member of his team says they need a break or they need to step away, he never forces them to carry on, he is so completely understanding of their needs and genuinely values their mental well-being.

I just love him so much, he was such a perfect leader

#aaron hotchner #gentle and patient to a fault #imperfect but always tried his best #he took that job and made it a home #my heart aches for him

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masterwords · 2 days

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#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds #hotchgan #there is something so powerful about this look in this moment that i'll never be able to touch with words #but i don't think i need to #if you know...you know

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masterwords · 2 days

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like the heart don't lie

Summary: Reid falls in love with Hotch after a night that ended in a drunken kiss, but by the time he works up the nerve to make his move...he's too late.

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan, Unrequited Hotch & Reid

Words: 9.7k (and counting)

Warnings: see tags on AO3

Notes: Yeah, so I just closed down one multi-chapter nightmare and opened another. I am the master of good decision making. My current writing style, in case anyone hasn't noticed, is simply embracing the chaos. I can tell you that while the start bears a striking resemblance to Running Toward Nothing, this story will veer off in a completely different direction. I hope you like it as much! Thank you for coming along with me!

*******************************************************************

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #hotchgan #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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masterwords · 3 days

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hotch and morgan being weirdly in sync

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds #this gifset is a gift #they do this type of thing for 11 years and it blooowws my mind #LOVE #hotchgan

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masterwords · 3 days

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Summary: Derek misses Hotch while he's working at the Seattle Field Office.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: mentions of sex (not graphic)

Words: 1.7k

Notes: Pure, unadulterated cute. I sprinted out the entire barebones rough draft in 20 minutes and did my best to flesh it out but there just isn't a lot of substance here. It's just sweet, adorable, idiots in love...pwp but the cute no smut version.

“You've been gone for fourteen days...” Derek moans, spinning around in his chair. It's way too late to still be in the office, he knows, but it's the only time he gets to talk to Hotch who is 3 hours behind him in Seattle. The time difference feels surreal.

Short and fast, that was what they'd said. They needed someone to fill in and run the Seattle Field Office while they found a new leader, a week tops. They already had someone in mind. Except that person bailed, and now they're back at square one and well...the BAU has Derek to keep them in line, so Hotch has been over in the Emerald City for fourteen days and counting.

This isn't as bad as his station in Pakistan, but Derek had lulled himself into a false sense of security. It wouldn't happen again. That was an aberration. They'd tried to tap Hotch for Section Chief, and he always wound up right at his desk in the BAU like he belonged there.

But fourteen days...two weeks...that's when a short trip starts feeling an awful lot like something with real permanence.

“I think they've got their eye on someone,” Hotch says absentmindedly, pouring over a stack of employee evaluations that were turned in to him that day. He doesn't even know these people, he's just signing off on things. Putting his signature out there on things he can't exactly back up. It's not his usual prerogative, but these are desperate times. He's just a suit in a chair. Except he knows the truth...they love him here, they've wanted him back since he left and someone thought maybe bringing him here might remind him how much he loved this office too.

And he does. It's been a breath of fresh air being back in Seattle. But he can't live here, his family won't follow.

“I just want you home.”

“How has it been with you and Jack?”

“Great. He's great, he listens to me, we've been playing lots of games and eating lots of junk food...”

“Derek...”

“What? When the cat's away...”

That's not true. Derek hasn't fed Jack any junk food, that's been all Jessica who stops at the grocery store every day before picking Jack up for school and brings them some kind of treat. Ice cream, candy bars, sugary breakfast cereal, She eats her feelings. She also doesn't like when you point that out.

“How much longer?”

“I don't know.”

Gifts started showing up in Seattle on the third day. Nothing major. Just lunch, a burger and fries delivered to Hotch's desk from The Athenian.

“Sleepless in Seattle?” Hotch texted and Derek sent back a little red heart. He had enough to take back to the hotel and eat for dinner as well, though it didn't make it that far in the end. He ate his dinner at his desk as well...one of those days.

Never one to be outdone, he made sure coffee and pastries were waiting for Derek when he arrived at work the next morning.

And so it went, each exchanging little gifts of food and flowers from three thousand miles apart. Hotch hadn't even considered what he would have to eat in forever, Derek had it scheduled every day like clockwork. Jessica called it twisted. “Here I am gaining ten pounds with all the ice cream I have to buy myself and you two are playing cross-country footsie. It's disgusting.”

The next morning there was a chocolate croissant and a coffee waiting for her at her desk. Neither of them told her who was responsible and it didn't matter, it made her day. She was in on the game.

Donuts were sent to Jack's classroom courtesy of Voodoo Donuts. Hotch had to make a trip down to Portland to meet with another SAC and figured why not. Jack's classroom would get a kick out of the wild colors and silly little voodoo doll shapes, and he got to spend an hour waiting outside in the rain in a line that stretched around the block. Some might grumble at that, but Hotch likes the rain and he loves not being cooped up inside of an office building. Sure, he was cold and miserable, but he was also happy. (And out quite a pretty penny when all was said and done, shipping a box of donuts across the country fast enough to keep them relatively fresh wasn't cheap.)

He got a hot drip coffee and a fresh maple bar for his troubles.

“Seventeen days...” Derek whines. He's temping his roasted chicken, which he should have put in earlier, he knows that dammit. He's angry when it's still ten degrees below where he needs it. That's at least another half hour, they're going to be eating late again. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

A bouquet of bright orange tiger lilies shows up at his office around mid-morning on a day when Hotch has been feeling rather under the weather. He's had a headache for three days, the kind that makes your jaw tight and your teeth sing. It could be his sinuses or maybe dehydration, maybe it's just his body telling him it needs a rest. He hasn't had a day off since he arrived in Seattle, not really. They're no closer to finding someone to take over than they were the week prior, no one wants the job. The flowers make him smile in spite of the way his tight jaw clicks and groans like rusty old machinery.

“Thank you,” he says when Derek calls later. At their designated time. “The flowers are beautiful.”

“So are you...” Derek says quietly. “That tie looks nice. Is it new?”

“I found it at a little consignment shop on my lunch hour a couple of days – wait..”

He looks up, and in the doorway to the unit Derek is standing with another smaller bouquet of flowers in his hands. Peach and white peonies, the color of a sigh, the gentle color of a spring sunset. He looks like a kid ready for his prom date. Hope is smeared across his features.

“Twenty-two days...” he says, handing Hotch the flowers. “I know I shouldn't be here, but I thought sneaking into your hotel room and surprising you there might get me shot.”

“You're not wrong.”

Hotch shouldn't leave, he knows he has too much to do but he hasn't had a day off in twenty-two days and one night isn't going to cause irreparable damage.

The next day, when he calls in sick because his headache has reached its crescendo and he'd much rather lie in the hotel room with Derek all day than go sit at that desk. They make good use of room service, barely leave the bed. The view from the room is picturesque, a full and un-obscured view of the Puget Sound from over the top of the concrete jungle. Not even a crane gets in their way.

They drink their coffee on the balcony, smelling the briny air before heading back to the bed. They make love enough times that Hotch loses count, showering and sleeping and eating briefly between. He loses count, but he also loses the headache somewhere along the way and he'll take both of those things gladly. Twenty-two days apart had created a hunger in them that neither had realized until they were here sharing the same air, the same timezone, and this time (unlike Pakistan) there were no hard feelings to work through. Just making up for lost time the best way they knew how, with hands and lips and a Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the doorknob.

“So...what the hell is a consignment shop anyway?” Derek asks, still thinking about what Hotch said about his new tie while popping a strawberry into his mouth. Hotch hums and hunts for something to watch on the TV. They'll barely pay attention to it anyway but the noise is nice. It drowns out the way that neither one of them seems to be able to keep their inevitable moans in check. And why should they have to? It's been three weeks since they've even been in a room together, so if they get a little carried away between the sheets who can really blame them?

It isn't just about sex, they take short cat naps in their love-warm sheets and they do talk a little, too. Just enough. But they've been talking so much lately, it's all they've been able to do, that it doesn't feel very important. While they sit and visit over meals and drinks, Derek leans against Hotch, keeps one hand anchored on his thigh or his shoulder or his back at all times. And Hotch makes no attempt to break away. Time will do that for them soon enough.

“It's a secondhand store. I found something for you, too.”

Derek wears his new cashmere sweater back at Quantico when he returns from his whirlwind surprise trip and everyone notices. It's the color of rich, deep purple-almost-black plums and the way it sits against his warm skin is breathtaking. Penelope can't stop touching him. Running her hands up and down his arms. It even smells good.

“It smells like Hotch,” he says when she comments on it later. She purses her lips and doesn't really know what to say to that. She's rarely speechless.

“He really knows you.” She'd looked up the tag, gasped and nearly died of sticker-shock, and then tried to remind herself he'd purchased the thing secondhand. Or, he claimed to have anyway. She wouldn't put it past him to tell Derek that just to ensure that he wore the damn thing.

“I would hope so, after all this time.”

“How much longer? We all miss him. It's not fair, those stinky Seattle people get him and we're stuck here without our boss-man.”

Derek smiles and glances at his phone, ready for it to ring. Hotch said he'd be the one to call tonight. “Soon.”

“That's what you said last time.”

“And it's what I'll keep saying until it's true. Now get outta here so I can talk to my man in peace.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #resurrecting an oldie

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