I know this is random but I have been trying to look for a fic a read a while ago and I cannot find it. It was a fic about the entire criminal mind BAU x reader. It was NSFW as well and u think it was a request to an author. If you know what it is or have a link to it can you please send it to me!!! I cannot remember the name!!!!!
Warning: Prompt - Oral Sex + Punishment + CNC NON CON / Kidnapping /Oval {Gov Claire / Reader } / Campaign Gone Wrong / DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT / Office Murders/ The Purge AU / Cannibalism / Unhappy Ending + Forced Marriage / Forced Oral Sex / Blood and Gore / DARKFIC / Previous Sexual Assault / Blood and Gore / I messed up cnc to nc so now i have to write a cnc oops / Dead Lovers / Judge Harkness / FBI Agent Vidal / Running mate Gov Jennifer Barkley / Previous Drugging and NonCon / 18+
☞🧿☜
“The soul of our country is at stake.” You heard Senator Charlie Roan say. And you had to agree.
The day before the Purge was always the most terrifying; everyone was on edge.
With the upcoming election, you were already slammed. And this years purge was following at the wrong time.
The primary was only weeks away. And you’d agreed to run with Jennifer Barkley. Currently, you were campaigning, trying to get in front of a crowd and a camera as often as possible.
But the campaign coordinators had made a terrible mistake.
And your tour bus was supposed to go towards a bunker for government officials, where you could wait out the impending bloodshed.
Jennifer had already gotten to said bunker - she flew there yesterday to be sure. And you had been trying to keep the budget and stay on the bus.
Which already was a problem, but worse than that today…. you had to drive through Connecticut…
As in your opponent Claire Debella’s home state. She had been the governor of the state for many years before moving her way up with funding from a certain billionaire.
But you had long ago been a young, budding college intern for Claire. And you knew the woman more than you cared to admit, and you realized she was dirty just in time. In time that when she asked you to sell your soul, you high-tailed it out of there.
So you made better decisions, and worked hard to get where you were today without getting blood on your hands. Not like DeBella, and you with the help of Senator Roan and Governor Barkley, were planning on showing just how shady Claire DeBella really was.
As you three had been adamantly against The Purge….Well, it was no wonder your skin was clammy and your stomach upset. This was the perfect intro to your head being on a stake. Plenty of the population still loved The Purge Day.
Twelve hours of all crime being legal had only made sure to show what the American people could really do, given a key to the kingdom.
And as your bus rolled through Hartford, all you could think about is how it was getting late, and you were not nearly close enough to the bunker.
It seemed the rest of your team was also growing concerned, but the bus driver continued steadily. And you tried not to let your paranoia take effect, that maybe someone had paid him to drive slow, just under the speed limit. That maybe Miles Bron’s Alpha Industries truck would T-bone your campaign bus at an intersection.
The sun had already set, Wanda and Vision - your right hands, had the radio up on full blast as NPR did it’s countdown. Interviewing people pre-gaming the event, and people calling in to mourn fallen family members from previous Purges. Telling the radio station that it was barbaric, and needed to end.
You sighed, unable to look anyone on the bus in the face, and unable to voice your concerns. You had agreed to stand with them, you had agreed to the idea of dying with them.
The clock ticked, 6 : 50. A measly ten minutes, and you checked your phone. You were only 13 minutes away. It was so close, too close. Looking across the aisle at the bus you spotted Peter part of your junior staff and Billy a cub reporter holding hands. Whispering something close to a prayer to someone somewhere that you would make it.
And you looked down at your dress slacks and white button down and wondered if your mother would have wanted you to wear magen david necklace. Or if it mattered this far into the campaign, if they killed you would you have wanted it?
You check your phone again…6:55….you wouldn’t check navigation, it wouldn’t help you now. You just tried to breathe, appear calm. Stare out the window, not at all the innocent people on this bus who believed in you, and your cause.
When the bus slowed, you jerked to look over at Vision, who was already standing.
“What seems to be the problem?” Your chief of staff asks and you gulp and look up to see the bus driver opening the bus door. And a few people gasp as a police officer walks on board.
You should feel better; society tells you this should make you feel better. Seeing that badge, an official with a gun, taser, and a bulletproof vest.
But you weren’t some ivy league virgin, you’d worked in polotics for too long, in law too long, to find comfort in a badge.
“We were told you all were coming through Governor DeBella’s state. And so we are here to make sure you get where you are going safely!” The man says and then you see a woman step onto the bus, she’s got FBI on her vest and a semi automatic rifle.
You look down at your phone to see it say 6:57.
“Let’s go then!” Wanda shouts not as polite as the man you were sure she was boning.
“We just need to do a routine safety check.” The man says and the FBI woman looks around the bus. You gaze over at Billy and Peter practically in tears and decide that this is the moment where you stand. Because if you were going to be a leader anyday, it was the day you died.
You stood up and slid your phone into your pocket, lanyard hitting against your chest as you made your way to the front of the bus, and the FBI agent smiled.
“No don’t!” Vision shouted and Wanda actually stood to come with you but you turned and eyed her carefully.
“You remember what I said to you when we got super drunk in DC’s inauguration ball two years ago?” You say to her and she nods once sitting down.
“Mohitos?” She asks and you nod and Wanda shoots back up to hug you. You squeeze her once and push her back into her seat to walk the rest of the way to the front, like Mary Queen of Scots, or Mary Antoinette to their own beheading. Your eyes go up to the clock on the bus - 6:58.
“You can have me if you give me your word you let them cross.”
“We’ll let them cross, but that doesn’t mean the state will.” The FBI agent tells you and smirks. You aren’t in the place to make deals. You just have to get off the bus.
You go down and the whole bus goes nuts yelling for you, and you are proud of them for their fight. But it isn’t necessary, as your leather nice boots hit the dirt Agent Vidal checks her watch, but slaps the side of the bus for them to drive.
A black military car is outside, three teams of guns for hire, but they must be ex military. Because they keep their faces guarded, and their stance tells you this is not some hillbillies with a shotgun.
The bus pulls away, and you can see people yelling and arguing about abandoning you, but Wanda is at the helm, calming the people as Vision freaks out.
“You really FBI?” You ask seeing Vidal speak into a walkie talkie.
“Sure am.”
“Well that’s interesting, are we really waiting?”
The overwhelming noise of the message starts to blare from peoples cellphones. And you sigh closing your eyes - here we go 7 pm.
“Not anymore.” Vidal states and throws a black bag over your head. And there’s the sound of gunfire and you are thrown into a vehicle and it takes off.
Vidal is yelling spanish into the walkie and you wonder who was the ‘traitor’ but whatever it doesn’t matter.
You are transported quickly and then taken into what you are assuming is a parking garage, as the wheels squeak and the echos change. The car opens and shots and screams can be heard. Then people are grabbing you and a beep sounds out, stairs, more stairs, like ten levels of stairs. All going down, across three rooms. Up again five, and you hope until another door beeps and you are thrown into another room.
Your knees hit soft ground which throws you for a moment, as the bag is pulled off your head and the lights blind you. You smell a familiar perfume.
And you can’t help but laugh, perhaps it was the wrong chemical reaction when faced with death and torutre. But you had to find the humor in the situation.
Your vision clears and you are in the white house, the oval office to be exact.
A few blood stains stood out to you quickly, and then the visual of Claire DeBella.
Her hair was a little uncombed, dress perfect, mascara smudged on one side.
She must have gotten her hands dirty today.
You laugh again and now Claire kicks off her heels and walks to you.
“What’s so funny Dear?”
She points to one of the sofas and you get off your bruised knees and sit down. Your hands are unbound, and you turn around to look in the oval office. Claire doesn’t understand for a second and misreads your gaze.
“Figured you would be in this office under different circumstances?”
You see Claire DeBella’s former running mate practically in pieces from some large axe of machete already dead ontop of the desk. The desk that did not belong to you or to Claire. The idea of the death of democracy played over and over in your mind. And then a silly cartoon popped up to replace it, to disassociate.
“Figured you’d beat your Mama in her own game?” Claire teased, and you checked behind you to see two more dead bodies with fresh blood. Claire worked fast, you had to hand it to her. “You looking for someone to save you? Let me in on the joke too?”
“I was seeing if we had an audience. I was laughing because I remember when your kids were young we watched Nightmare Before Christmas. And we used to sing ‘Kidnap The Sandy Claws’ I just didn’t realize how much life imitates art I guess.” You shrug hoping it stings, remembering the memories of what was. Before Claire ruined it all.
“They ask about you often, more than their own father. But don’t you fret, you’ll see them again.” She softens taking off her glasses and placing them on the coffee table.
“Oh, you want to behead me in front of your third grade children?” You laugh again, an interesting coping skill to stress you hadn’t realized would flare so much when nearing the end.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a wonderful mother, and a strong leader. How would that look?” Claire laughs and stalks over to you and sits a little too close on teh uncomfy sofa.
“I hope they’re someonwhere safe. Like I’m hoping my team is.”
“Of course…I only killed Wanda.”
You flinch, your friend didn’t deserve that. And along with her died the secret of how to find you. Claire reached around you to your back pocket where the cellphone sat. The record button on, she chuckled setting it on the coffee table.
“Ask me what we did with the body, oh wait let’s make sure we get better audio.” Claire reached across to pick the phone back up. “Testing testing.”
She smirked and you shook your head, you wouldn’t ask.
“Miles took a trip to a special island and found out from a man podcaster that if you ate people….You got stronger, smarter, more powerful or whatever. So he’s spending this Purge Hannibal style.”
You throw up a little bit in your mouth but swallow, not about to let Claire see you react. But you shiver involuntarily.
“What’s wrong, no comment now?” Claire pushed the phone closer to your mouth and you bat it away. The phone fell to the ground and shattered. Claire watched it and then gave you a fake mournful face. Her bottom lip sticking out as though you were a child she was telling wouldn’t get second helpings.
The image of Wanda being eaten by the rich was the most revolting thing you had ever heard. And you worked in politics.
You worked in politics, you had to remember this was a game, and you weren’t some lowly intern working for Claire’s campaign any longer.
So you plaster a grin, your appearance ready to fight or meet your maker.
“Get on with it DeBella, go ahead, kill me, make my cause a new flame. Martyr me I dare you.”
Your eyes must reflect that you are ready to die this was because Claire appears very unhappy. Then she forced up a facade of polite enthusiasm.
“You were always prone to dramatics.” Claire pushes a stray hair over your shoulder and you dont’ flinch, much to your credit.
“Says the political candidate who killed the president, VP, and I’m guesing your own husband… and then fed them to a billionaire.” You work hard to keep your voice monotone.
“You say canabalism I saw re-assignment. Besides, politics was always about getting your hands dirty. You know this, I taught you more than you let CNN know.”
“Your right, your coffee order is burned into my skin, as well as your favorite way to yell at an intern.”
Claire reaches out and grabs your jaw harshly, like she’s done entertaining this.
“Don’t play coy.”
“Why not? We have a little less than twelve hours. You gonna murder me clean or televise it? I’m sure FOX would pay you big bucks for that.”
“Well BBC wouldn’t call it world news that’s for sure.”
You both laugh at the absurdity of it all. Claire’s perfect manicured nails digging into your cheek painfully.
“Is this the part of the story where you tell me what’s in store and then cackle?”
“I’m trying to decide if I like you scared like this, some tiny thing in my palm. So fragile, just like when you first got to DC. Wanting to make a change, you want me to put your nose in the carpet? Like a dog who pisses indoors, show you what change tastes like?”
“You really are what’s wrong with this system.”
“Oh honey, you overestimate me. I can’t take responsibility for all of it. Besides, I’m not what’s wrong, I’m the solution. And so are you.”
This took you off guard and Claire smashed her mouth against yours and you were so shocked you just sat there with your eyes open, frozen.
Her residual lipstick smearing over your mouth and chin.
When she pulled back, her arm wrapped around your neck like a lover it started to click. You always wondered why Claire had favored you so quickly, and the gaps of your memories when you two would drink. You hadn’t talked about it in therapy, never wanting to. But something sat cold in your heart when you saw Claire on the news, and now it was starting to unravel.
“Looks like things are falling into place my love.” Claire whispers, her mouth inches from yours. As though she wants to see the moment it all sparks.
“I thought you were just going to kill me.”
“What a waste.” Claire lets meticulously tongue roll over her front teeth.
“You couldn’t just end it that fast, you want to punish me.”
“Punish, now that’s a word that makes sense. VP to many is a worst punishment than no position. And you wouldn’t be as cute as a meatpie.” Claire licks your bottom lip, and you hold onto the side of the sofa for dear life.
“You want to Johnson me?”
“No dear I want you branded, like cattle, I have a ring picked just for you.”
“You’re gonna Jackie me?” You re-asses and Claire chuckles at that phrasing before using one of her thumbs to hold open your eye. A display of power with no purpose, a vet checking out a pig.
“Think of it more like Clinton. We’ll keep each other secrets, we’ll fight alongside each other. You’ll clean up my messes, and I’ll clean yours.”
Claire releases her hold and leans back just to let her words settle in your skin.
“Bill, I don’t have messes.” You play along and Claire kisses your jawline, as though she just can’t help but enjoy you. While you try to turn your brain pattern that understands sensation off.
Because soft lips were hard to ignore, even if they came from a killer. Claire was psychotic….but she wasn’t’ hideous on the outside, a real venus flytrap situation.
“But you do, and I’ve been so good at cleaning it up.” Claire scolds you and she leans to reach in her dress pocket. Making a show of pulling out four polaroids.
And you see pictures taken of Supreme Court Judge Harkness, she’s in stills but the terror is there. As they hold a gun to her head. And then the aftermath, with her brains on the floor. You drop the polaroids, fear finally hitting your blood stream correctly.
“There it is, so scary when it hits, isn’t it? Your fight of flight, what does it look like?” Claire asks and unbuttons your blouse, and you freeze.
“Is that why she called you Bunny? Because you don’t flee or fight, you just sit in the middle of the road? Please, I’ve debated with you for too long to believe that was true. Did you know Agatha was still married when you two started fucking? Did you care? Of course not. You judge others for their impure actions and excuse your own.”
Claire takes off your white button down and pushes it over your shoulders, and then unclasps your bra from the front.
“That’s why you never listened to my advances, remember because I was unhappily married. Trying to separate, and you just wouldn’t cave.” Agatha continues and snaps the buttons in the middle of your shirt and they fall to the floor. You want to look away. But you have to keep paying her game.
“So what? Your plan is to film me and air it?” You try to think two steps ahead, just like DeBella taught you in politics. You weren’t playing chess right now though, not an Rubik's cube, or fucking battleship. This was a game formed from the flames of The Purge.
The lights flickered, and you could hear someone scream, but Claire wasn’t in the least bit concerned.
“No, darling, I wouldn’t want anyone to see you writhe beneath me. No, much too Hollywood.” Claire kisses the corner of your lips before continuing, “ It’s 2025, I plan on setting you up for murder if you ever think of disobeying me ever again. No more straying away from home. I have enough DNA to put you all over the poor Harkness murder…And Bron promised to keep Wanda’s teeth for me…”
Your face turned green with disgust, shaking at the idea of all of it. The next conclusion is the most obvious one…
“You want me to be your pretty stage wife?”
“I want you to be my vice president, but every night spread your legs like Jackie.” Claire laughs manically and you think this is worse.
“Or you’ll…”
“I have a friend in the FBI who doesn’t like you very much. And a little birdie told me my opponent Jen has a crush on you.”
You close your eyes in horror, this was much worse than death.
“Shh, my little vp don’t be so sad! I think we all look a little alike, dark hair, blue eyes, cute nose. I’m sure over the next four decades you can learn to like me just as you did them. After all, I came before them, and you did like me once. You have a type, woman in charge enactin change, looks good in a pantsuit. It’s cute really.”
“You are foul.” You say and Claire shifts her head back and forth like she’s contemplating it.
“Maybe, but maybe you shouldn’t piss off crazy.” Claire stands, her mood shifting fast. As she grabs you by the hair and you lose your balance as she lifts you by your scalp off the sofa and towards the desk.
Pushing her previous VP choices corpse off of the surface. Blood still all over and you cringe as she throws you onto the wet wood .
The hard edge hurting your lower back but Claire just keeps pushing your chest until you have your whole body ontop of the bloodsoaked desk.
Your body makes the red puddle fall over the side and drip onto the carpet more.
But Claire didn’t care a bit. Getting ontop of you, she put her knees on the desk, straddling your stomach.
As she lifted her cream dress up her thighs and hips for you to see her pussy, no underwear.
“Time to learn how to please Mommy.” A bit of Claires cum gobs onto your tummy, and you want to die. The Governor is stupid if she actually believes this is going to work.
“Fuck you.” You sneer and Claire smiles and then back hands you so hard you feel like a tooth might come out.
“You will learn, the rest of your existence is all about rewards system. And if you disobey, then it will be a string of punishment. And you won’t like all of what I’ve come up with. Now I haven’t cum since the day you left, my late husband believed my clit was fourt knox. He just never seemed to be able to crack it. But you made Mommy cum so fast. “ Claire moved to stranddle your face and you tried to wiggle only for her to pin your arms with her knees. And the full wait of her on your arms was painful as hell.
Mixed with Claire’s hands grabbing onto your hair like she’d rip it out if you misbehaved.
“Don’t bite, or I’ll feed you like I feed my billionaire.”
That makes your stomach churn in disgust and you open your mouth to say something nasty. Only for Claire to sit down completely on your face.
You try to move away, her pussy soaking your face as you attempt to free yourself. Claire sighsn disappointed by your actions, taking one of her hands to pinch your nose.
“You can breathe once you start to lick. Be good and suck on Mama.”
You try to fight, really you do, but Claire is patient. Something you didn’t find when working for her before. She waits for you to turn purple, and then she lifts her hips just enough for you to breathe and she pinches your nipples behind her back as hard as possible.
And then repeats, and it’s after the third time you realize that you are no longer a person. No longer someone with rights, you are a first lady, or maybe even less than that. Manchurian candidate, a puppet, and a sex toy on command. You feel for Monroe. And you close your eyes and give the first lick.
Earning a string of happy noises from the soon-to-be president.
You lick her labia up and down, moving the underside of her clit. And it doesn’t take long for Claire to moan and scream with delight. And you hate yourself for it. But you figure bringing her to orgasm quickly will at least get this part over with.
Licking this maniac you once looked up to wasn’t rocket science, and you pushed your tongue flat and pushed up against her clit ten times in curcles and that was that.
Claire actually ejaculated onto your nose and cheeks, it dripped down your chin and neck. Getting into your hair, you just kept licking, hoping it would end soon.
And Claire laughed and made little content noises, before lifting her hips up for you to take a deep breath again. Her hands staying in your hair like they were the reins to a pony.
“See what a good reward, now a few more seconds and we’ll sixty-nine on the desk.”
“What! No, I did what you wanted!”
“Oh sweetie, you’ll have to read the fine print better when I put you in the white house. No, we’re gonna do what all those Republicans really want. And sixty-nine on the white house desk. I have twelve hours to do whatever I please with you. And Mama already got her to do list done. Kill the president, kill your little slutty girlfriend, blah blah blah. Now it’s time to enjoy The Purge the way it was meant to be savored.”
Tears fell down your already soaking wet face, mixing with Claire’s cum. But she just lowered her cunt back down to your mouth. Her body ready for more, for hours of it. As her team went out and killed more, slaughtering innocents in her wake. Stocking up to feed Bron’s new diet.
“This is Mommy’s Purge baby.” Claire moaned, letting her head fall back as your tongue moved to fuck her hole, and she moaned out into the bloody room:
“God Bless America.”
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Well since Kathryn is officially cast as Mother Gothel the only thing left is for me to start brainstorming Stockholm syndrome Gothel x reader fanfiction for you guys 💕
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