REMEMBER.
minors dni. 2.6k words.
smut. daryl dixon x fem!reader. protective daryl. hint of size kink. strength kink.
It's easy to forget his strength when his touch is always so gentle. When you're safe, he lets you forget everything he's capable of; the reason you've both made it this long.
Safety lets you forget.
And then—when it inevitably all it all goes to shit again—you remember.
"Get in!" he calls through the wall of bodies separating you. He keeps the attention of most of them, but there's a few stumbling in your direction—too many for you to handle alone. "Now!" he shouts as he takes another growling walker down.
It goes against every instinct you have—to leave him to fight this alone. But this was his domain. This was when you did whatever the fuck he told you to do. It was how you survived.
You drag the door of the container open, grunting as the heavy metal fights back. It's a makeshift prison cell, one that was supposed to be filled with live bait for the walkers. It would be if it weren't for Daryl. He was almost single-handedly dismantling whatever fucked up enterprise you'd both stumbled upon.
One of them reaches you before you'd manage to push the gate open enough to slip through.
One is fine. You can handle one.
Turning around to deal with it gives you a split second to check in on Daryl. He's making a dent in the mass of bodies, but it's not enough. Not with the shouts of the living making their way closer.
You kick the walker you've knifed back into the mass of bodies approaching, giving you just enough time to slip through the crack you've made in the sliding door and slam it closed behind you.
Locking it is another story.
You have no hope of accomplishing that.
Still, it's enough for now. It's enough to let Daryl keep his focus where it needs to be as you deal with as many as you can through the bars.
Then one gets shot down. Daryl, is your first thought. But then two are shot down at once. And then the voices reach your ears. Voices are bad. Walkers you can handle. The living was another story. Nothing stoked the fear constantly simmers in your gut like the voices of the living.
They shout over each other, calling directions as they pick off the mass with a spray of bullets. You can't see Daryl anymore. He's either dead or hiding.
Hiding. Hiding. Hiding.
You shift back into one of the dark corners of the container as the shouts draw nearer.
“What the fuck happened?! Don't shoot them you dumb fucks! Get any you can back into holding!”
Any second now... any second they'd find Daryl and your world would end. The living were different. The living were monsters of a different kind.
"They're bunched up around this one!" someone shouts.
You hold your breath.
"Well check it out then!" another demands.
Oh, fuck. You grip your pistol. Your aim was decent. You could take one out, maybe two. But there's a whole group... and they were coming for you.
You scramble to the other far corner as the last of the walkers are cleared from the entrance, hoping to take advantage of the darkest shadows. Daryl would be watching... waiting. Any extra moment you could give him could be vital.
"You better come out now," a man calls from outside. He's just out of your sights, prepared for you to be armed and ready to fight. You'd hoped to have the element of surprise. "I ain't asking."
You know what'll happened when they find you. It's the same thing each time. You're prey to people like these—something to hunt in a world without consequences for that kind of thing.
Your silence buys you less than a minute before the first of them are dragging the metal gate open. If you shoot, they'll shoot back. It's not something you'll survive cornered like this. So you bet on them being the same as the rest. You let them know you're prey.
"Please," you call, as meek and afraid as you can manage—vulnerable. Not a threat. "I'm—I'm unarmed."
Then a bright light blinds you.
"What the fuck?" one of them exclaims. Then, "Where'd the fuck this little thing come from?"
There it was. Little. Thing. You were nothing. You're not a threat. You'd bought Daryl more time.
"Come on out, girl. Come on." They call you like you're a dog, something less than human. That's how they see you. Something to use.
You take a small step forward, still blinded by their flashlights. Daryl was alive. He was alive and hiding and he was waiting for something.
You just had to stay alive.
"What do you... want with me?" you ask, still taking tiny steps towards the light. Weak. Vulnerable. No threat.
You get muffled laughter in response. Guards down. Distracted.
"What do we want? We want a little fun, honey. That's all. Just a bit of fun."
They're flash lights drop as you approach the entrance. They've pulled the gate all the way across.
Five. You count five. If you kill two...
"Why is she alone?" one of them questions. He's younger, a little less distracted.
The rest ignore him. Then one of them has you by the arm, dragging you the rest of the way out of the makeshift cell. They're hands send a wave of repulsion through your body as they grab at you, pulling you around and shoving you in front of them. They may as well be the undead the way their touch feels against your skin.
The young one doesn't move out of the way when you reach him. Instead he stares into you, suspicious and angry. "Who are you with?" he asks. Even then, his gun is lowered. Even to him you aren't a threat.
"Get the fuck out of the way," the man gripping your arm says, clearly irritated and impatient.
"But—"
"Now."
His eyes narrow, but then he steps aside—his back pressed to the wall to let the rest of the men past. It's now that you get a look down into the pit of walkers, the one's they've managed to recapture rather than take out. They reach up towards you, hands grabbing for you.
Then, only a few steps later—you're stopped. The man with his hand wrapped around your elbow leans over your shoulder, his rancid breath invading your nostrils as he speaks. "You alone?" he asks. "You tell me right now."
You blink away the burn threatening to pool tears in your eyes. Were you alone? If you were...
The man's grip tightens, the only warning you get before you're forced to your knees and staring down into the pit of hungry walkers. "Speak," he demands, nails carving into your skin. "I'd hate to waste you like this."
There's two other men behind you. Three surrounding you in total. You could take one out for sure. They hadn't even searched you for weapons. They expected nothing out of you at all.
But then there'd be two, only counting the ones in reaching distance. How long would it take the other two further away to aim their guns in your direction?
You were dying tonight if Daryl was dead, that was certain. Your only hope was that he was waiting and watching... but what would he be waiting for...
Your pistol sits at your hip, a comfortable weight.
You take a deep breath. You could wait to die. Or fight now and hope that's the moment he's waiting for... if he's waiting at all.
The man holding you drops to one knee behind you. He leans over to speak in your ear. You wouldn't need to rely on your aim for the first kill, only any that followed. It was a headstart you weren't likely to get again. You reach for your pistol and before the man can open his lips and taint your senses with his rot once more, you shoot him through the underside of his jaw.
Your ears ring as his body drops. But you were ready. The men behind you aren't.
You were nothing. Prey.
The few seconds that affords you are priceless. You manage to shoot one more through the head before he can get hands on his own weapon.
The third is another story. His gun is pointed at you for what must be milliseconds. They drag though, those moments with an enemy weapon pointed at your head always do.
But then Daryl is there, strangling the man with a rifle and shoving his body into the ground with a force that reverberates through the metal. It's only when he snaps the man's neck you spot the bodies behind him.
He'd been waiting for you.
You watch him stand, hair hanging in his face and his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.
Then his eyes are on you.
Then his hands.
Those hands... the same ones he'd used seconds earlier to break a man's neck. His fingers are feathers across your skin as he brushes the hair back off your face. "Okay?" he asks, soft and a little shaky.
You nod.
"You did good," he says, that deep gravel back in his voice. "So good, sweetheart." His hand makes a trail down to your neck, gentle and slow over your pulse point to rest at your clavicle. "We gotta go," he says. "Stay close for me, yeah?"
—————
The first time after is always the same—after you're forced to remember. It adds something to the way his gentle hands feel as he reaches over your hips to dip between your legs. To the way his body feels pressed up behind yours.
His thick fingers slip between your slick folds as he holds you tight against his chest. Heat. It's an overwhelming heat. He crowds you, practically curled around you.
"You like that sweetheart?" His voice is almost sweet as his lips graze your ears and his long hair tickles your skin. "Huh? You like that?"
You nod with a small whine, pressing your hips back into him—desperate.
He sighs, finger prodding over and over at your swollen entrance—a teasing little hint of what's to come. He dips in slightly, his calloused fingertip pressing into your slippery, spongy entrance just enough to have you whimpering his name.
"Fuck," he grunts. "You need me here? Huh? You all fuckin' empty?"
"Yeah," you whine with a desperate nod. "Empty."
His grip around your ribs tightens for a moment before he's pressing you into the ground—cushioned by the few blankets you carry. He's rolled you onto your belly as he covers you completely, his warmth seeping into your skin from his calves to his hot breath on your neck.
"What do you need?" he asks. As if he doesn't know; as if he didn't always know.
"You."
"Hm?" he hums, sweet and coaxing. "How?"
You reach blindly to find his wrist, gripping it firmly. "Hold me tight," you gasp between jagged breaths. "Please... Please."
His weight is heavy over you as he drops his lips to your neck, a silent acknowledgement of your pleas.
Then he's scooping you up, lifting you and rearranging you exactly the way you want him to. Because he fucking knows.
He has you pressed to his chest with your tits against his skin as he lays back into the makeshift bed you've created for the night. His arms wrap around you, one across your shoulder blades and the other around your waist—secure and firm. His fingers press sporadically into your skin a little more than needed, like he's testing his grip on you; like he's testing he has you in his arms good and tight.
Then he hooks one leg under yours, a gentle guide to part your legs just the way he needs.
"You ready for me, sweetheart?" he breathes against your temple as one of his hands leaves you. It's temporary, you remind yourself. He'd be wrapping you up securely as soon as he'd buried himself deep; once his cock was guided safely into your throbbing cunt.
You nip at his neck in response, chasing with a delicate lick at his salty skin. "Please," you ask softly.
Then he's adjusting you against him a little, ensuring you're exactly where he needs you to be. "I got you," he says as his leaking tip prods at your entrance. "Got you," he repeats. He mumbles this way as he teases; as he plays. This was what he did: pushed you to the brink of desperate sobs as he guides his cockhead over your slippery, throbbing cunt... over and over.... and over...
Saying he liked you needy was an understatement.
Then, eventually, he slips inside. Just the tip.. and not far. Just enough so that he can wrap his arms around you again. Just enough that he can have you whimpering his name as he prevents you grinding down to take him deep inside.
This is when he gives you a hint of his strength. It's easy to keep you from your goal, his strong arms pressing you into his torso a little harder each time you attempt to resist.
He keeps you there, just with a taste of that fullness—a taste of having him as close as it was possible to be. "Kiss," he says, simple and a little croaky.
You obey, pressing your desperation between his lips. It's messy and interrupted by moments where you simply need to breathe, heavily—his lips chasing yours as you attempt to catch your breath.
"Daryl," you gasp eventually. "Now. Please."
His grip around you tightens a little as you drop your face to his neck.
Then he pulls you down to meet his cock, to fuck himself deep. It's hard, exactly like you need it—exactly the way he knows you want it. You bite into his neck weakly as he keeps you there, stuffed full—the thick throbbing length of him stretching you out so completely.
Then, "Like that?" he asks, that sweetness back in his voice—like he's offering you a gentle back massage instead of holding you down on his cock.
You nod weakly in response.
His fingers press into your skin moments before he's moving, fucking himself with your cunt as he pulls you down to meet his messy thrusts. You're completely pliant like this, all control relinquished.
He's got you.
His breathing is quickly transformed into uneven pants as he attempts to grunt broken sentences into your ear. "Sucking me in... sucking at my cock with your messy little cunt... aren't you, baby? Hm?"
One of his hands moves to your hair occasionally, a temporary and seemingly subconscious attempt to get a better grip—or just to hold you closer. His fingers tangle in the strands, never tugging hard—never hurting.
"My girl," he grunts. "My needy little girl."
It's only when he's nearing his end that he flips you onto your back and you get a real display. He grips your hips and tugs you down to meet him as he uses you, each thrust a slapping of skin and punching a helpless sound from your lungs.
Strength. Everything you've been forced to remember.
"Daryl," you gasp. "Daryl, fill me. Please."
His fingers dig a little more into your skin, his hair falling over his eyes. Then his lips part, a grunt... a broken, "Fuck."
He falls over you as he floods you, his cock twitching and pumping you full—just like you asked. But even then, even as he loses himself, he catches his fall—arms landing either side of your head to cage you in. "Got you," he gasps out between desperate lung fulls of air. "I got you."
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╰┈➤ ❝ desire • l.n c.l ❞
part one - part ii
➪ Charles hasn't paid much attention to you after your daughter was born but a certain Brit does.
➪ Everything seems to be going right and life seems amazing, at least to the others..not for you.
➪ established relationship mom!reader x dad!Charles x lando
➪ this came to me as I was running a high fever, stop judging me..i also needed a charles fic here, No lando in this one yet, Charles ain't a real good partner and google translate is my bestest friend
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charlesgirlies
liked by 456 others
charlesgirlies Charles and Zoë in y/n's story today 🥰
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cahlossainz oh
chilisainz oh my god I'm dead 😭
↳ bott_ass bestie same
charles16 she needs to keep feeding us dad Charles please!!
leclerc_16 volunteering to be his baby mama
lanlan Zoë is just the cutest little bean 🥰
↳ charlesgirlies she is! 🥰
lanlan lil cutie like her mom :)
charlesgirlies and her dad!
charloslesainz y/n living my dream life 😭
landoscar I just know zoë has Charles wrapped around her finger
yukisan didn't know y/n and charles were together let alone have a kid 😂
↳ clsixteen have you been living under a rock? It was a big scandal when they were seen together 5 years ago?? 😭
yukisan I'm new so i dont have all the lore, just thought they were friends because they both come from Monaco 😅
leckerkcharles y/n the predator and her victims
mrsleclerc love that there's still people in the comments being mad about them dating 💀
↳ carlandooo for real it's been 5 years people and charles is not little sauber Charles anymore 🤡
charlesgirlies people be acting like y/n is 40 years older than charles
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y/nusername
📍 Sicily, italy
liked by charles_leclerc, noellepicard and 369,989 others
y/nusername babes big day out 🏖
tagged: noellepicard, manon_roux
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noellepicard she's a little mermaid 🧜🏻♀️
charlesssss I can't, she's the cutest 😭
charles_leclerc princesse ❤️
↳ charloslesainz stop it, he's such a girl dad imma throw up
hamilt44n man is made to be a dad honestly
manon_roux lucky to have the prettiest girls in the world with me 🥰
↳ joris__trouche je n'ai pas reçu mon invitation? (i didn't get my invite)
y/nusername probablement parce que je n'en ai pas envoyé :) (probably because i didn't send one)
joris__trouche comportement inacceptable (unacceptable behaviour)
charles_leclerc Joris est une des filles maintenant 😂 (joris is one of the girls now)
y/nusername Je devrais lui acheter une mini-jupe et des talons hauts pour nos prochaines vacances :') (should buy him a mini skirt and some high heels for our next vacation)
manon_roux j'aimerais voir cela se produire 🤣 (i'd love to see that happen)
joris__trouche j'aurais l'air sexy et tu ne peux pas le nier (i'd look sexy and you can't deny it)
sharl16 no idea what they're saying but I agree 😭
landoscar her little feeties 🥺
leclerc_16 am I the only one who finds it strange that they haven't been together this summer break?
↳ carlosleclerc they were bestie, they spend time together with friends in Monaco last week..they're both on their girls and boys vacation..pretty normal
leclerc_16 oh I've missed that part..still something feels off
carlosleclerc I mean y/n gave birth to their daughter not that long ago and its probably not the best idea to fly with a new born/baby all around the world. I'm sure they're fine..
leclerc_16 mmm you're probably right, would hate to see them split up though
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y/nusername posted to their story
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y/nusername
📍 Monte-Carlo, Monaco
liked by arthur_leclerc, pierregasly and 327,888 others
y/nusername juste toi et moi à l'infini, petite fille 💗 (just you and me to infinity, little girl.)
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noellepicard 😍
yourmumsuser mes anges ❤️ (my angels)
charloslesainz 'just you and me' doesn't sit right with me lmfao
↳ thurthur my god it's just a caption 💀
landoscar for real they're always reaching for things
thurthur they always trying to start shit and it's getting annoying and repetitive
clsixteen never seen such a cute kid 🥰
francisca.cgomes need to meet her soon!
↳ y/nusername your always welcome!
bananaclerc cutest little bunny 🐰
manon_roux mon lapinou ❤️ (my bunny)
joris__trouche mon petit monstre ❤️ (my little monster)
↳ hamilt44n stop this kid is so loved 😭
sainzleclerc feeding the delulu fans with that caption
↳ charlesgirlies it's literally just a damn caption!!!
sainzleclerc I know but the crazy charles girlies haven't seen them together in a while and don't forget Charles hasn't mentioned zoë in a while.. things add up in their heads 🤡
charles_leclerc mes princesses ❤️
↳ y/nusername 🥰
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y/nusername posted to their story
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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie @pretty-little-bunny382728
Lando taglist: @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10 @bored-brunette2
let me know if you want to be taken off the taglist
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Dirty Cops
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Summary: With a dirty cop killing women in the BDSM community running loose you and Spencer have to devise an equally dirty plan to catch him in the act.
Warnings: Kintober Day 22 - S&M, BDSM themes, public sex, oral sex, exhibitionism, bathroom sex, interrupted sex (both of them are cockblocked by the job).
A/N: I'M BACK! Sorry for the delay. This is the fic that has been beating my ass for about two weeks now. I fear I put too much detail into the case, and now I'm 6k words deep into a part one of a fic that should've been a 3k standalone.... oops! I hope you enjoy~
You sat in your office hands on your forehead as you desperately searched for the solution to your problems. 12 women, 12 homicides that VICAP had just spotted were easily similar. All in the same jurisdiction, and yet no connections made by their police force.
Something was going on in Tampa, and you needed to get to the bottom of it before another person died.
You supposed it didn't really help that some of the women had died in some pretty unorthodox ways. Strangulation, blunt force trauma, evidence of rope burns, and having been held hostage but not for long. Things your team was familiar with, but local detectives usually couldn't stomach.
As the BAU's brand new liaison officer, you got the job of convincing the local law enforcement to invite you in. They certainly weren't making it easy for you.
"Listen, I'm telling you there's something here, sir, if you'd just check the case files. We're only trying to help."
"You're trying to stick your nose in my departments business because you think your fancy FBI agents can handle my cases better than me."
"Sir, with all due respect -"
"Fine, you think you can come find whoever whacked these street whores you come and do it." You took in a sharp breath and paused, trying to make sure if you were hearing him correctly.
"What do you mean by whores, Captain? Choose your words very carefully." The warning was a bonus, knowing your voice had already done such a 180 he was probably regretting his previous word choices. As far as you knew none of the victims were wex workers. They mainly had office jobs or were even stay ah hone mom's.
"Each and every one of these women were jezebel's. Cheating, doing dirty things while showing their faces in church. They attended a certain establishment, not a Christian one, if you understand what I'm telling you, Miss."
"It's Agent, actually, and if you ever leave these details out of a case file ever again, I'll make sure to have your badge pinned up on my wall like a hunting trophy. Are we clear, Captain?" He stuttered out a yes, but you cut him off quickly.
"My team and I will arrive later today. Expect us for lunch." You said, slamming the receiver down and finally releasing a huff of breath you'd been saying for emergencies.
A whistle from the door finally draws your attention after a few minutes.
"Okay, Y/N," JJ clapped, looking impressed. "Who pissed you off?"
"Just the Captain at the precinct who just very politely invited us to consult on our next case." You threw the file in her direction as she set down the coffee she'd bought you, picking it up to peruse it. "Where's Hotch? I need to tell him we've got to go now before they change their minds."
"You know you want to say it," she teased as you began walking out of the office to find your elusive boss.
"Ha. Sure. Wheels up in 30, Jennifer." She raised her coffee in a salute to you as you finally took off, getting ready to go to war against an unhelpful police precinct.
–X–
With all the time you don't have, you end up briefing the team on the jet. You have to stand and grab the edge of the table as you try not to pace up and down the aisle.
"Twelve victims, all women between the ages of 20 to 28. He's crossing race lines, so I don't think they're placeholders." In all honesty, this case had pissed you off.
Twelve dead women and no one seemed to care until you phoned the department up yourself when VICAP flagged it all with you. Half of the cases had been closed for lack of evidence, and the other half so poorly investigated that you knew it was only a matter of time before they got boxed up and shelved too.
"The general public in Zephyrhills doesn't even know they have a serial killer. No one is being told to exert caution. There's no local press on this either."
"It says that these women were all killed, but there's no viable DNA they could pick up?" Morgan asks, looking up at you.
"That's right, no DNA evidence can be lifted, but spermicide was found on three of the victims."
"So our unsub was wearing a condom. He came prepared, and we were dealing with a serial rapist who has bridged into murdering his victims."
"There was no spermicide found on the other nine victims?" Emily looks up at you from her place at the small table.
"No. Rape test kits weren't run on any of the other victims because, quote: 'it was pretty obvious what had happened.' The precinct waited too long to collect the DNA evidence and now we don't have enough to locate, let alone prosecute an unsub based on DNA."
The whole team shared in your stressed look then, sending you matching sympathetic glances as they suddenly understood the herculean task you'd taken on trying to convince the locals to invite you in.
Not noticing the awkward silence that fell on the group, Spencer spoke up quickly from his place, standing beside you.
"You know, Zephyrhills is only about an hour away from Tampa. Tampa is the number one hook up spot in the US. It's residents boast on average 14 orgasms a month instead of the nationwide average of 12.5." He seemed pleased with the knowledge he'd just let everyone in on, as you looked back on him.
"Right. So our guy is trying to get his rocks off to out gun the rest of the country. Thanks, Spencer."
"It's relevant. It's says in the casefile here that three of our victims were last spotted on the highway making their way to Tampa, but then their bodies were found dumped in Zephyrhills. What if he's following them?"
"Spencer has a point, but if he's following them, what gets them to turn around? The cars were found abandoned in Zephyrhills, too, none of these women made it to Tampa." Hotch adds, and you make eye contact with him as your next thought comes to you.
"What could get someone to stop on a highway?" You ask, the question so simple, every single one of them knew the answer before you'd even finished asking.
"A cop." JJ filled in, and you all sat silently as you realised how dangerous this next case could truly be.
"We're about an hour out from arrival, everyone get some rest for now, I'm going to make a call to the nearest FBI Field Office, see if any of this is on their radar."
You slunked back to your seat at the back of the jet and sat down again, trying to get comfy but ending up just shifting multiple times in your seat.
Spencer joined you, sitting beside you, so close you could feel his eyes on you as your leg began to bounce. He put his hand over it and, with a strong hand, stilled the movement.
"Y/N, you did a good job connecting these cases." His voice was meek and calming, and you'd generally very much appreciate it if his hand weren't sending your body through some serious loops right then.
Your leg was on fire where he was touching you, his hand hot even through the fabric of your clothes. But when he pulled the hand away, watching your legs for any further tremors, you felt the need to snatch it back and replace it on your leg, certain that it would sooth the burning once more.
You snapped yourself out of it quickly. If you were thinking this way about Spencer of all people, then you really needed to get laid.
"Tampa's population consists of 43% singles, you know. Good statistics for getting laid." You twisted your head around to meet his eyes again.
"Tell me I didn't say that outloud." But his small smile dashed your hopes as you realised you just admitted to feeling incredibly horny because of his hand on your knee.
"If it's any consolation, I'm definitely the only one who heard it." His hand fell back to your thigh, and you twitched as it did, but you didn't move him.
"Fucking floridians and their goddamn 14 orgams a month," you muttered under your breath, hoping that he wasn't paying any attention to you now, seeing as how he'd opened up a book to hold in one hand.
"Lucky if I get even one and Florida man has 14 in him." You continue mumbling as you try to get cosy, closing your eyes and moving your head to find a comfortable position.
“You definitely said that one out loud.” He laughed, and you threw up your middle finger while letting your head fall back and your body take the rest it needed.
Without opening your eyes, you decided you needed the last word, a phenomenon you often found occurring in Spencer’s presence.
“A gentleman would pretend to not have heard that, Spencer.”
“I’m not a gentleman.” Annoyance prickled you at his reply, but you were too tired to say anything more as you caught up with the sleep that had been evading you for weeks.
–X–
Your landing in Florida comes almost too soon, and Hotch delegates tasks before you’ve even had the chance to properly get your feet beneath you after so long in the sky.
This case was becoming more of a mindfield with each of the pieces of information you’d received. Upon getting off of his call with the FBI Field Office closest to Zephryhills, Hotch had informed the team about an ongoing investigation into the police captain’s wife, whose pseudo-Christian church group were spewing vitriol about damn near every group you could think of.
“Religious discrimination, racism, sexism, homophobia and some pretty screwed up views of basically everything else, too.” Penelope had informed the group, pulling up the files that had been sent to her.
“It seems their most recent project is… Oh, how relevant. An adult establishment just opened up on the outskirts of Tampa, right on the highway that connects it to Zephyrhills. And from the boasts of the club owner on social media, it seems he’s telling anyone who listens that he’s not going to get shut down because the police are his main clientele.”
She sent through links to some of the posts to your iPads, and you angled the thing towards Spencer so he could take in the new information as well.
“Could we be looking at a religious motive to the murders? You said that the police captain called these women Jezebels. The name is biblical, she was a Queen who worshipped a false god and was defenestrated because of it, but over time, the uncapitalised jezebel, as you know, tended to refer to women with loose morals.”
“The motives could still be religious, but these women were raped. It says in the case files that Mrs. James’s church group is solely comprised of women, mostly the wives of the officers in the police force.”
Again, everything was leading you back to this stupid police precinct. You grimmaced as you realised that the next few weeks were going to be spent on the edge watching your back.
“Y/N, Reid, I want you both with me at the precinct when we land. Morgan, JJ, go to the church and interview some of the ladies there, see if you can’t push some buttons. Emily, Rossi, some of the family’s of the victims got in touch with the field office to request inquiries, go anf find out whatever you can about the last known whereabouts of these women.”
Now bracing yourself, you set your face in a neutral expression and let Spencer hold the door open for you as you walked into the station.
“Hello, we’re the agents from the FBI. Where can we find your captain?” You ask the receptionist at the chatting to her desk, but just as you finish your inquiry, another officer cuts you off, stepping half in front of you and demanding some files from the woman.
She stands awkwardly, sending you an apologetic glance as she scurries off to go and complete whatever busy work he’s just given her as you quietly seeth at his back.
The officer turns around to you and grins, sending you a smile as he walks off, apparently pleased with himself for foiling your attempts to find his boss.
“Y/N, keep a cool head. The captain’s office seems to be just ahead, I’m going to go and see if he’s there, smooth out some of the issues they seem to be having over here with our presence.” You nod and stay back with Spencer, who takes a quick seat behind you.
You don’t sit, though, too on edge and pissed off to get comfortable now.
The officers seem to ignore the two of you, bustling around you with no sense of shame, but you can tell they're watching you, hearing the low murmur of whispers.
When one of them decides to out their hands on you, though, you've decided you've had enough.
"Sorry, little lady, I need to get through. Important police business." He practically Leeds down at you as his hands grab your waist, meaning to move you aside to her you out of his path.
You don't give him the chance, grabbing his hands from your hips and twisting them behind his back quickly, shoving him face first into the nearest desk.
"Fuck, you little bitch. Come and control your partner, man." He struggles in your grasp, signalling to Spencer.
You grin as Spencer doesn't even look up at him, having pulled out a copy of War and Peace and settling nicely in his seat. You could tell he was on edge though, had seen the slight way his body tensed when you'd first been touched, and knew that if you'd needed it, he'd be there backing you up in a second.
"Sorry, are you talking to me?" He finally said, still not looking up from his book.
"Yes, get this bitch off of me."
"If you ask her nicely, I'm sure Agent Y/N would release you. As for me, I'm certainly not making her do anything she doesn't want to." He grinned as he said it, and you rolled your eyes slightly.
"Maybe if you told some of these other agents here to stop looking at her likes, she's a hunk of meat and greeted her respectfully instead of calling her… little lady, was it? Maybe then she'd be more generous." The man grumbled beneath you again, but before you could actually force his hand, Hotch and the Captain were exiting his office, obviously alerted by the crashing sound you'd made.
"Reid, Y/N, that's enough." Hotch signalled, and you complied, letting the man go and stepping back to Reid's side. He'd stood now, squaring his shoulders and making use of his quite intimidating height. You must seem tense, though, because the second you settle next to him, he puts a hand on your lower back, and you're surprised at how calm you instantly become.
Earlier, his touch had been fire and ice, and now it was relaxing you beyond belief. What the hell was wrong with your body recently?
"Thank you, sir," the officer said, straightening, dusting off his uniform as he levelled a glare at both you and Spencer. "I was beginning to think the FBI was just a bunch of sissy's and menstruators-"
"Cut the crap." Hotch barked out, and even you were startled by the sound. "Captain, if you or any member of your precinct says anything further about any member of my team, or god forbid puts a hand on them, I'll personally make sure this office is charged with conspiracy to murder for not investigating these deaths and aggravated assault of a federal officer. Do I make myself clear?"
The man seemed displeased at having his badge threatened for a second time in 24 hours, but nodded, dismissed the other officer, and finally shut up.
He has the female receptionist from earlier show you to the room you'd be using for your investigation for the next few weeks.
After making sure the room is secure, you place a call to Penelope and the others trying to gauge if they'd found any further leads.
"Some of the family members know exactly where they were going that night. One of them had a husband, said he was going with her, that they drove in separate cars because it was part of the thrill of it all." Emily's voice sounded tense and frustrated, and you could only sympathise silently before jumping in to ask her more questions.
"I thought they said it was an adult establishment? Does that not mean strip club?" You asked, perplexed at why the married couple would be going together.
"No, from what I can tell, it seems these women were members of the BDSM community, and that place… is somewhere they can practice."
"So even if we do somehow get another victim, any DNA test could be questionable evidence because they all left to have consensual sex." You sighed out and ran a stressed hand through your hair.
On your call with JJ and Morgan, you got much of the same.
"Oh, they're angry, alright. About the immigrants and the drug dealers, the homosexuals, and the jezebels. Seems they're working hard to get the club closed not just because it's a house of sin but also because the man who owns it might be an illegal immigrant."
"How quaint and Christian of them."
"Yep, and get this, the club's official title? Women for the Grace of God. There were no men in this group, Y/N. We're not going to find our unsub here."
Hanging up, you let your head hang, the fatigue of the case really kicking your ass.
"Spencer, draw the blinds, Y/N, lock the doors." Hotch ordered, and you listened, quickly making sure that no one was even close to the door. Returning to your seat, you noted the tense set of your boss's jaw and decided that whatever he had to say wasn't going to be good.
"Our unsub is in this precinct, which means we're not safe. But it also puts us in a unique position. They don't know we suspect them yet. We can force the unsubs hand."
You straightened in your chair, listening closer.
"You want to bait them out?" Spencer asked from his place beside you.
"I want you two to bait them out. You already got under a few of the officers' skin, push a few more buttons, and we could get our unsub to slip up."
"And how are we supposed to do that?" You asked, heart thumping in anticipation. You thought you already knew, but you needed to hear the words from his mouth to be sure.
"They're going after women in the BDSM lifestyle. Let's convince them that the two of you are also similarly involved."
He turned and left you with the decision then, leaving you and Spencer in the small room alone.
Your palms were sweaty, and you refused eye contact for a few minutes before he finally cracked and gave in first.
"It'd work." He whispered, suddenly closer than you remembered.
"What?"
"It would work. Whoever this guy is, he's getting off on dominating these women, seeing another man that he deems physically inferior dominating a woman who's already kicked an officers ass… that's enough to get him to crumble, slip up."
"So I'm supposed to just bend over and take it?"
"Bend over, yes, but I usually prefer women to be a bit bratty."
"What?" You found yourself blinking up at his face, even as the door swung open again, another officer walking into the small room you'd been left in.
You stepped away from Reid slightly, putting a more appropriate distance between the two of you before the man started talking.
"Well hello, I heard we had some feds in the office, thought I'd come introduce myself, but I didn't hear we had such a beautiful woman here, too. She a witness?" He directed the question to Spencer, but his leering eyes never left your body, trailing down slowly and disgustingly as you tried not to shudder under his gaze.
"I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, this is my partner, Agent Y/N. How can we help you?"
"Oh, I'm all set on my medicals, doc. You can't help me. Maybe she can if you let me take her out for a test drive?" Your blood boiled as he said those words, and you were about to send a cutting reply back to the man, when Spencer sat back down in his seat, snaking an arm around your waist to take you with him.
"Sorry, I don't lend out my private property." Stunned, you tried to act naturally about your new position, but his hand on your thigh slashes your brain capacity down by half, the only thought in your head running through Spencer Reid's possible sexual preferences.
"Oh, I see how it is. She's a slut, just not that kind. Okay, I'll bite, what's this one into? Choking, spanking? Careful, don't go too far or you'll be prime suspect number one for our perp."
"What are you insinuating, officer?"
"That these sluts you're asking about got in over their heads. Some women like it rough, practically beg for it. Poor guy just did what they were asking." Biting your tongue, you let the man keep digging his own hole, as Spencer kept him talking.
"Actually, contrary to popular opinion, in most sado-masochistic relationships, the submissive partner is the one in control. They have power to stop whatever role play is going on in the scene through safe words and actions, and the dominant role is more of a protective role, requiring a deep level of commitment and care for their sub." As he said it, he turned your face to his, hooking a finger under your chin and then stroking your face as you fell further into his body.
You almost forgot the other officer was there until you heard his grumbled reply, turning your head slightly to whisper in Reid's ear.
"Long shot, Doc." With that, you climbed from his lap, turning back to the other officer with a grin.
"Sorry, was there anything professional we could help you with? Or would you like to go and deal with your little problem alone in the men's bathroom now?" He turned on his heels and exited swiftly, face red with rage at your insinuations.
"Okay. I'll admit, it's going to work. But we're going to need to set up some bait and deliver the profile to them to make sure we have each and every one of their attentions."
"I'll notify, Hotch."
"Spencer, wait." He stopped at the door and turned back to listen to you. "Earlier when you said… when you mentioned that you'd prefer…" You tried to ask the question but it seemed the question just wasn't going to form on your lips so you simply let out a small frustrated humph and let him figure out the rest.
"Y/N, I… I don't know how to answer that question and still act professionally around you."
He left the room shortly after, and you couldn't help but feel disappointed at the distance suddenly kept between the two of you. You were beginning to become much too distracted by Spencer Reid.
–X–
"Let's have another rundown again, just so we're all clear on the play by play on this." Morgan said as you and Spencer were wired up, ready for your operation.
It wasn't exactly undercover, but it wasn't quite straight police work either, but here you were. After giving the profile earlier, you'd noted that three of the officers had seemed a little bit fidgety under all the new information they were getting, all three of them matching your profile.
Unluckily for you, they just happened to be the Captain in charge of the precinct, Detective Handsy from your first trip into the office, and Detective Dumbass, who'd asked you and Spencer all about BDSM earlier that day.
Penelope had filled you in on each of their backgrounds. The Captain was second generation police force, but court of public opinion had ruled that his father wasn't exactly an upstanding guy, a report corroborated by his mother's multiple accidents and trips to the ER. Detective Handsy had a misdemeanour sex crime expunged from his juvenile record for masturbating in public - on the unconscious girl who sat next to him on the bus.
Detective Dumbass seemed to be the police contact for all the local prostitutes. He'd busted at least thirty in three months, and each of them had reportedly tried to turn him in as the John who'd paid for their services.
"Run through it again." Morgan brought you down to earth as JJ finished attaching the wire under your clothing, handing you the small in ear so you could hear updates from the team.
"We walk into the bar, get a little too close for comfort than they'd like, then ask the bartender where we can have some fun around here. She's been prepped to give us the answer we want, and we set out on the highway where Rossi and Hotch are waiting in unmarked cars to give us an escort until our unsub takes the bait and tries to pull us over."
"Good, now, Spencer, do I have to show you where to put your hands, or do you think you've read enough to figure out how to push the right buttons?" From the grin on his face, it was evident he was enjoy pushing the younger man's buttons but you could tell he wasn't doing it maliciously. The two of you were both tense and on edge, and you needed that waylaid somehow.
"Trust me, Morgan, I think he knows where his fingers should go." You said before grabbing Spencer’s hand and dragging him out of the vehicle, not letting him go until you were right by the door of the bar.
You didn't really let him go either, it's more like he caught up to you and moved his hand from yours to your ass instead, pulling you closer into his body as you made to move inside the bar.
He hesitated a moment outside, though.
"Y/N, we haven't talked about boundaries yet. I'm going to have to touch you in there and-"
"You have my permission. For anything." Your words come faster than you expect, but they're there, filling the silence of the night quickly.
"Anything?" He asks, a small play lighting up his lips as he pulls you in closer. You can feel his breath on your skin, and you almost take back your words until he lowers his head. Your lips are barely an inch apart and getting slowly closer as you angle your head up towards him, when the bar doors swing open and he turns and pulls you inside instead.
You recover quickly, trying to focus on the twelve women who need to find justice rather than the many things you suddenly want Spencer Reid to be doing to you.
You slide into a booth at the edge of the bar but you'd canvassed the place earlier, knowing that while it appeared to be a quiet corner, every other table had a clear view of your actions in the corner.
Surely enough you felt a few pairs of eyes on you as you sat down, a little closer for comfort than you expected.
"Well, Penelope's sources were correct. It seems like every cop in town is here tonight." You said, whispering the words into Spencer's neck, just above where his own wire was placed, making sure the words were heard by both him and the members of your team left in the surveillance van.
"Show time," he said, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his lips as you stood. He gave your ass a quick slap as you made to walk towards the bar, and you sent him back a wink as you walked to order your drinks.
Ordering them quickly, you took a simple scan of the room, noting that all three of your suspects were social butterflies tonight. They all sat on different tables, but each had at least another man with him, and every single one of them was looking at you presitorially.
Returning to your seat with the drinks, you never felt their gazes leave you.
"Certainly caught their attention. What now?" You asked hesitantly, sliding up against Spencer’s body again.
"Now we give them a show." He said, snaking a hand between your legs and forcing them apart gently. You'd changed into a shorter skirt and smaller top before coming back out, needing to look the part of the slut they'd already deemed you.
You smiled up at Spencer as he stoked your thigh suggestively, but he never moved it further up.
"Spencer, kiss me." You said, eyelids heavy as you begged the man to take you further than touching.
"Why?" He asked softly in your ear.
"Because a few of our suspects are getting restless, and I want to see if we can tip some of them over the edge. Obviously you're smarter than trying to stick your hand up my skirt in public surrounded by a group of cops who would happily stick you in a cell for the night for public indecency, so you're just going to have to stick your tongue down my throat."
"Here I was thinking maybe you wanted it," he grumbled but complied anyway, grabbing the back of your head with his free hand and pulling you towards him. The kiss wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle the way his caresses were. It was hot and it was demanding, and when he pulled away after a minute and your lips followed his desperate for more he grabbed your hair and pulled you backwards, baring your neck to him easily as he moved his lips down slightly.
Opening your eyes then, you again surveyed the bar, noting that the Captain and his friends were leaving, sending a stink eyed glare in your direction as they threw down their cups and left.
"Morgan, get eyes on the Captain. Make sure he goes home and stays there," you breathe out quietly, waiting to hear the affirmative in your ear as Spencer kept his head buried at your neck.
In another second, he was off you, taking a swig only his drink as he smoothed your hair down again. You do your best to ignore the history pooling between your legs and the haze clouding up your brain as you stare at him swallow the drink, watching a small stream of the soda you'd ordered him instead run down his chin.
You watched it fall and, in a moment of thoughtlessness, pressed forward to lap it up from his neck. He'd spent time marking you. What harm could this do now?
However you rationalised it, you knew it was just an impulse, one greatly rewarded by his hands pulling your hips over his and a growl in your ears.
"Anything?" Was the only thing he said, and you pulled away to look into his eyes again before he pulled you in for another kiss.
"Sorry to interrupt, love bunnies, but we've had a change of plan. Two of our suspects are out, and they've bailed and been safely and discreetly escorted home by FBI agents from the field office. Hotch and Rossi are on the way back. He thinks we can nail him in there and get him to act out."
Pulling back from the kiss long enough to whisper your reply to Morgan into Spencer's mic, you can barely tear your eyes away from the man.
"What do you want us to do?"
"Men's bathroom is free. Hotch thinks if we make it look like you're doing something less than holy in there that it could force his hand. Especially because he's shown voyeuristic tendencies in the past."
"Shit. Detective Dumbass?"
"Only one left. And his name is Dunbar. You'd do well to remember that in the paperwork."
Pulling yourself up and out of Spencer's lap, you took a swig of your drink again as you stood.
"Follow me in three minutes." He grabs you by your wrist and turns you back around to him again, though before you can leave.
"Y/N, we're going to get this guy. After we do, I think we should talk." Instead of answering him, you pressed another lingering kiss to his lips and moved out again, heading directly to the dark corridor where the bathrooms were.
You slipped into the men's easily enough, thankful that it was empty. It was a single stall, and when you heard the knock on the door two minutes later, you were suddenly thankful that it was, because it meant that you could lock the door behind him and not risk anyone else coming in while you baited your unsub.
Spencer placed a hand to his lips as soon as he made it through the door, pulling out his phone to type out a message to you without speaking.
"Followed me. Think he's listening outside."
You pulled your own out to answer him.
"Let's give him a show then."
The both of you discarded your phones on the countertop of the bathroom and suddenly collided again, as if you were two magnets who could no longer resist the pull.
Your lips fought hungrily, and now you didn't pull back your voice letting all the moans of pleasure fall from your mouth and fill the bathroom.
His hands were on you in an instant, pushing you back against the door, letting the creep behind the wall hear as much as possible as his hips found yours and you started grinding against him like your life depended on it.
You could no longer tell what you were doing for the case, and what you were doing out of the simple desire to do so, wrapped up in all of the pleasure he was giving you in that minute. And that was before he started talking.
"You like that, whore? You like feeling my hands on you out here in this dirty bathroom." You clenched around nothing, even as his hands trailed lower, reaching the top of your skirt just as you replied.
"Yes, I like that, Daddy. Please touch me more."
You crashed together again, even as Spencer's hand fell inside your skirt and panties suddenly reaching for your clit. You forgot everything. The bathroom, the unsub, the wire you were wearing. When his hands were on you your only thoughts were him.
You gasped in delight as he began rubbing you, moaning out heartily, not bothering to restrain your voice. Even if there was not a murderer on the other side of the door, you'd have wanted everyone to know how good he was making you feel.
"Kneel," he says, and you listen, getting down to the dirty floor for him and looking up at him innocently.
"Now what, sir?" You ask, teasing him with a smile. He gives your face a light slap in reply, but the sound is sharp, and you can hear some movement outside. You don't get to think about it for too long, however, as he suddenly removes his cock from his pants.
"Suck" is all the instruction you need before you're taking him into your mouth and wrapping your tongue around him.
After the entire night of teasing, you don't have to be told twice. You take him down your throat until you're gagging, but he puts his hands on your head and pushes you further anyway.
"That's it, baby, such a nice little slut just for me." He holds your hair as he begins fucking your face, softly whispering insults into the quiet bathroom.
"Perfect little slut, letting me do this here. For anyone to see and hear how much you like my dick down your throat. I should unlock this door, show everyone how nicely you take my cock."
You moan around him, desperately gripping his thigh as you struggle to breathe. He finally pulls out, pulling you up by your hair until you're face to face with him again, saliva dripping from your mouth.
"Is that how you like it?" He asks, and you nod fervently.
"Yes, sir. Please fuck me now, I've been such a good little girl."
He turns you and presses you against the door again. As you turn your ear to it, you can hear some pacing outside of it as he lifts up your skirt.
You were ready to feel this perfect bliss, right up to the moment Morgan decided to remind you of the task at hand.
"Hotch is here. We've got him cornered. Great acting, guys. We're thinking if Y/N exits the bathroom now, we can catch him trying to carry her off."
His hands stilled on you, and you both stared guiltily into each other's eyes. You kept your sounds up, definitely acting now, feeling as though you'd just been doused in ice-cold water.
Footsteps retreating down the hall had you suddenly nodding in response to each other, faking your orgasm with one last large gasp followed by a few minutes of silence and you straightened your clothes ready to bait the unsub once again. He tucks himself into his pants, and you loudly discuss your plans for separate exits.
"I'll meet you back at the table in five." He says, and with another lingering look, you're out the door and alone in the dark corridor, feeling empty and needy.
It was time to catch a killer.
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