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The case had been wrapped up in Miami - a difficult one that had involved children. From what you'd heard, it had been tough on everyone involved and had a meagrely successful outcome, except you didn't know any more details because you weren't allowed.
Despite having joined the team as one of the youngest and most skilled profilers in the FBI, you'd caught eyes for a few of the men in your team pretty early on and, three months into your new job, you'd made the mistake of sleeping with your boss. Over the course of the next few months, you repeatedly hooked up with SSA Aaron Hotchner until he'd convinced a very reluctant you to let your colleague David Rossi in on the sex too, and from there everything had unravelled.
You weren't sure how it had even happened - One day, a couple weeks after you'd started sleeping with Rossi too, you'd walked into work in the morning with a cup of coffee in hand, another one bought for Spencer, as was your shared tradition. However, approaching his desk, you noticed the rest of the team crowded around Rossi's desk, Hotch smirking slyly at you. Initially, you assumed there was something on your face or staining your shirt, until you looked back up at them and the small gathering had dispersed. Everyone refused to tell you what they were talking about so that left you believing you were just too new to the team for them to confide in you about whatever this was, until you started getting the feeling that the rest of the team was becoming too handsy with you.
For the duration of the next case, Derek had openly grabbed your shoulders and moved you out of the way like it was nothing, brushing you off when you joked about how he could've just said "excuse me". Aaron had gone from no contact to touching you so often you could've sworn he wanted people to know about you two, as had Rossi. No better were JJ and Emily, who made a few too many 'accidental' brushes of their hand against your ass or body for it to be an accident anymore. Spencer was acting strange too, his typically innocently wandering eyes now lingering on parts of your body that you would much rather they weren't.
The entire situation was bizarre yet your profiler mind still hadn't linked it back to the mysterious conversation they were having earlier that morning until the team had arrived at the hotel after a long day of examining the bodies, compiling the evidence and scouring over the crime scene. That night, you'd been bunked with Derek, which wasn't really a problem because you'd slept in the same hotel room plenty of times. Sure, it was slightly awkward to find out the room only had one bed, but that was probably just a mistake and you didn't want to cause a fuss and complain. Later that night, laying in bed with cum leaking down your legs and Derek holding your aching body close, you'd regretted that decision.
The same thing happened time and time again, just with different members of the team each time pressuring you into hooking up with them, even when you adamantly refused until their demands and pleas were too much and you just gave in. Perhaps the worst part of it all - they were all guilty of it, so there was nobody you could confide in. The situation had only gotten worse and they'd become much more open to each other about what they were doing.
Seven months after you'd started sleeping with Hotch, you ended up with him calling you into his office after hours where you were faced with Derek, Rossi and Hotch's expectant eyes. You knew what they wanted and you finally snapped, yelling at them that you'd had enough and this was fucked up, insisting that you were going to request a transfer. The three men were surprised, never having seen you act out against their wishes so defiantly and Derek came forward to comfort you, pulling you tight against him while you futilely fought to break free, eventually collapsing and sobbing against his shoulder.
That evening, Derek had driven you home to his house and you'd never been back to your apartment since, Hotch fulfilled your wish to no longer work at the BAU and fired you completely, leaving you with no job and completely financially dependent on the team. At first, you'd been held at Derek's place against your will, not allowed to leave the bedroom while he was home and locked in the master bathroom when he wasn't. The entire ordeal was a whirlwind of confusion and frustration for you, feeling as though you'd been thrown through a loop. The first night the entire team had come over, you had begged to go home, promising you wouldn't tell anyone. Your cries had fallen on deaf, delusional ears it seemed and the only response you got was Hotch grabbing your chin, forcing you to meet his dark eyes and explaining that you clearly couldn't look after yourself - given your earlier breakdown - and that the team would look after you now, promising that protests would be shut down immediately.
From that point on, your life had been permanently altered, if you could even consider it your own anymore. Nothing was up to you and everything was dictated by the team and their rules - from the moment you woke up and the second you went to bed, whatever you wore and ate was chosen for you, whoever you spoke to (which was nobody outside of the team) and every hobby you had or chore you carried out had to be passed through the entire team. If it didn't or if you chose to ignore them, you had long since learnt the consequences of that. It was like they had a crazed infatuation with you which you sometimes wished you could reciprocate but, unfortunately, you couldn't bring yourself to - not when they babied you, mocked you and tortured you as they did, sometimes going as far as to, in your eyes, rape you. Sure, the sex wasn't brutal and they had no ill harm, watering it down to just 'taking care' of you, but you didn't want it and they were well aware of that.
While your world fell apart, unfortunately, the rest of the world did not and the serial killers kept on killing, so the team resumed as normal on the outside, getting called away to cases but finding themselves unable to bring themselves to leave you home alone. Instead, they would take you to the hotels they booked, threatening you with punishments if you caused a scene as you were locked in one of their hotel rooms by day and tended to again in the night. Even that wasn't enough for them though, their obsession with you extending to calling you at every break they got, texting you and demanding updates and pictures of whatever you were doing up to a dozen times a day. Not even that could satisfy them though, the stress and nature of their jobs creating a deep-seated desire in all of them to care for you, one that was most prevalent after a long, difficult case like this one.
The plane ride from Miami back to Quantico would only take two hours, give or take, but less than a half hour in and you were cursing yourself for not using the bathroom before you left like Spencer had insisted. Instead, you'd pretended to use it, your determination to keep a scrap of personal autonomy coming back to bite you. You chewed your lip, sitting on Derek's lap with his large arm wrapped tightly around your waist, his hand rubbing up and down the curve of your spine. Faint beats of music drifted from his headphones and a surge of anxiety rushed through your heart as you flicked your eyes up to meet his peacefully closed ones, your head resting on his chest. Taking a shuddering breath, you didn't want to inconvenience him and ask to use a bathroom when he was so comfortable, but perhaps you were more afraid of the mocking and teasing that came with asking for any such a thing.
"Derek..." You mumbled quietly into his shirt, trying to get his attention. When that didn't work, you lifted your head and forced yourself to speak up, tapping his shoulder lightly, "Derek."
His eyes opened, a smirk spreading across his face as he removed one of the ears of his headphones, "What is it, baby?"
"I-I need to use the bathroom," You mumbled quickly, your face flushing in embarrassment.
Two fingers slipped beneath your chin, the pad of his thumb tracing the jawline as he tilted your head upwards to look at him. Your breath caught in your throat, anticipation pooling in your stomach when he raised an eyebrow expectantly.
"Speak up, baby. Let me hear that pretty voice of yours, hm?"
Swallowing thickly, you remembered the manners they insisted you speak with and cleared your throat, "Please may I use the bathroom?"
Derek tapped the side of your face, "Why didn't you go before we left?"
"I didn't need it then..." You whined, fists balling up desperately in his shirt as the pressure in your bladder increased.
"Didn't need what then?" JJ piped in from the seat opposite, looking up from her paperwork and tapping the pen against her mouth.
Your face blushed bright red, skin prickling with frustration and embarrassment as Derek answered for you, "They need the bathroom, don't you baby?"
"Well, they should've gone before we left." JJ's gaze shifted to you almost accusingly. Beneath her glare, you withered, having to remind yourself that these people were in the wrong and not you.
Squirming in Derek's lap with the entire team's eyes on you, you thought it couldn't get any worse when Spencer chimed in from across the jet, his eyebrows knitted together, looking up from his book, "Didn't I tell you to go before we left. That was exactly 41 minutes ago and the last liquids you drank were 1 hour and 2 minutes ago, so either you're lying now or you lied about going to the bathroom when I told you to."
The eyes on you turned from mocking to disappointed and expecting an answer, an explanation for the fact that you had directly disobeyed Spencer when, in their eyes, he was just trying to 'take care' of you. You stuttered and stumbled, unsure of what option was going to be better for you, pressing your face into Derek's shirt to try and hide from the accusing glares. Within a moment, his fingers had worked into your hair and yanked you away from him with a yelp, pulling your head back so you were looking up at him. What scared you most wasn't the impending punishment but instead the genuine sadness at the fact that you had lied and the evident reluctance, as though he truly didn't want to hurt you but knew he was going to have to.
"I'm sorry, Spencer." You whispered, the quiet of the jet leaving it audible to everybody.
"What are we going to do with you, hm? No matter what, you never seem to be able to appreciate how much we love you and how much we want to take care of you. When are you going to learn?" Rossi asked from across the jet and you couldn't meet his eyes.
As their words echoed in your ears, the frustration inside you built to a boiling point. You were so sick of being treated like a helpless child, like a possession that they were all fighting over. And as their glares bore down on you, you felt something snap inside you. The anger rose in your chest with each passing word, condescending and talking down to you like you were a child, building higher and higher. It was like the floodgates had broken and everything you'd been holding in for the past few months was let loose.
"When are you going to learn that I'm not just some puppet that you can dance around to your whims? That I'm not a sick puppy who needs you to look after them!" You yelled at Rossi, pushing yourself away from Derek and trying to disconnect the arm wrapped around your waist.
For a moment, the jet fell into a stunned silence but you couldn't stop yourself from continuing.
"Just let me go, you sick fucking perverts! What is wrong with you all? What is wrong with you?" You screamed, turning round and hitting Derek in the chest when he pulled you closer, grabbing your face and restraining your movements.
"Baby, baby, calm down." He said in a low voice, trying to keep ahold of you as you fought back against him.
"No, you calm down and realise what the fuck-" A sharp sting resonated across your face, quickly replaced by a large hand over your mouth and cutting off your words.
"Bad baby, you don't use that kind of language and you don't raise your voice. It's not good behaviour at all, is it?" Derek scolded, as though he were admonishing a toddler throwing a tantrum. Maybe because that's all he saw you as.
The hand remained tightly over your mouth as the blinding pain of the slap subsided to a dull throbbing. Your eyes watered as you looked up at Derek, feeling small and helpless beneath his towering frame. Suddenly, you felt so weak, maddened by the fact that you were unable to fight him or any of them off. Tearing your eyes away from his, you saw the rest of the team had either put down whatever they were doing and Spencer and Emily had moved towards the front of the jet where everyone else was, eyeing you with a predatory gaze. As much as the team would like you to forget them, your years in the FBI academy had taught you that breaking the fourth wall of an Unsub's delusion can cause them to act out erratically, and you were sure you'd made a grave mistake in breaking their shared delusion.
"We can't have that kind of behaviour from you and we most certainly won't tolerate it." Hotch asserted, "Usually, I would suggest waiting until we're home but, right now, I don't think this can go untreated."
"I agree. I think baby needs to be dealt with now to prevent any more tantrums and outbursts." Emily added. The way they refused to so much as use your name - you wanted to scream.
"How are we going to do it? What do you think you deserve, sweetheart?" Rossi asked, clearly not looking for a real answer from you but instead from the rest of the team.
"I think they need a spanking. The pain and humiliation would do them some good." Hotch said, the smirk clear in his voice even if you couldn't muster up the courage to look at him.
Your head snapped upwards at that, turning to Derek in a silent plea, shaking your head rapidly. It was perhaps one of your least favourite punishments to find yourself bent over the lap of one of your former colleagues, beaten over and over until you were sobbing and begging for them to stop, most of the time with an onlooking audience too. Never before had they resorted to such measures on the jet, sticking to quick slaps across the face and scolding words at most, and you dreaded the walk back to the car after this.
"Baby, don't look at me like that. You know you deserve this." Derek said, sympathetic and regretful for what he was about to do, removing the hand from your mouth, "Now come on, let's get this done and over with without any more trouble. You behave and maybe we'll go easy on you."
"I don't want to..." You whispered, your voice barely audible.
"You don't have a choice," Hotch interjected, much more firm and stern with his tone than Derek was.
You knew his hand was just the same, dreading to find out who it was going to be doling out the spankings today. Nobody was a walk in the park - Derek was too strong for his own good but took good care of you after, whispering praise throughout even if it made your stomach turn. JJ was almost resentful for the fact that you'd brought her to do it and that made her harsh, while Emily was always outright brutal in her assault on your ass. Spencer saw it as a challenge, almost calculatory in how he made sure to strike you just where it would hurt most both in the moment and when you tried sitting down later. And while everyone seemed to gain sexual gratification from it, Rossi was much more open and obvious about it which made the how to experience a new level of sickening, and Penelope refused to do it because she couldn't bring herself to.
"You lied to me about using the bathroom before we left, you whined and complained when Derek told you 'No' and you can't seem to control your emotions. I really think you need something harsher this time, something that'll stick so you don't have to be put in this position again." Spencer suggested, his gaze steely and tone hostile even as he rambled, "As a matter of fact, the higher the number of strikes, the less likely you have been in the past to repeat the offence, with a direct correlation rate of around 4 strikes for a week of no re-offence for minor things like complaining-"
"You calculated this?" Emily seemed turned on at the thought, Spencer just swallowing and nodding.
You felt sick to your stomach as Spencer continued to drone on about statistical correlations and the most effective methods of punishment. All the while, the rest of the team nodded along, as though they were discussing the most mundane and trivial matter. But to you, this was anything but trivial. This was your body, your agency, your autonomy being taken away from you. This was a group of people using their power to abuse and control you. And yet, you knew that fighting back would only make things worse. So with a heavy heart, you nodded with reluctant compliance.
After lengthy discussion, Derek was the one to administer the spanking this time, and, as you lay across his lap with your ass facing the aisle and eyes of your team, you felt like you were drowning in a sea of shame and humiliation, just as they had intended. The pressure in your bladder was only more intense now and you hoped Derek would let you use the bathroom afterwards, but knowing the team, it was entirely possible they wouldn't. His large hands slithered round to unbuckle the belt of your pants, the clink of metal reminding you of what was to come. Your pants were tugged down to fall at your ankles, Derek gently lifting you to ease the process. It was supposed to be a genuine gesture of care but instead only degraded and demeaned you further.
"Shhh," Derek cooed, wiping a stray tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, "Don't cry, baby."
"Derek's gonna take good care of you, don't worry. No need to make such a fuss." Emily's tone wasn't like Derek's, full of condescension as she shared a mocking glance with JJ.
You gritted your teeth, clenching your fists as Derek's large palm collided with your bare ass cheek, sending a sharp sting reverberating through your body. The team watched with greedy eyes, eagerly waiting for their turn to take out their frustrations on your helpless body. You could hear the sickening sound of skin on skin as Derek's hand connected with your bottom again and again, the pain intensifying with each passing moment. You couldn't help the tears that flowed down your cheeks, the sobs that wracked your body as you were forced to endure this humiliating punishment. It was as though you were nothing more than a toy for the team to use and abuse as they pleased. You wondered how they could be so suffocatingly doting and overbearing one moment, then the next so callous and cruel.
It seemed like an eternity before Derek finally stopped, his hand resting on your throbbing ass as he reassured you through whispers that didn't quite reach your ears that it was over. You lay there, gasping for air, hands balled up in the fabric of his jeans. A hand caressed your hair, moving the stray strands away from your face gently before winding through your hair to yank you backwards off Derek's lap with a cry, forcing you to kneel in the aisle in front of everybody. Looking up, you could see Derek's eyes were blown wide with lust, relishing in how you writhed as your bruised ass smarted against your legs.
"Can baby apologise, or are you gonna need to calm down a little bit first?" Derek's words were of concern but sounded like a taunt to you, nevertheless still being true. You couldn't speak, no matter how hard you tried, little hiccups breaking up any sounds you managed to choke out about how sorry you were.
But maybe this was the part you hated the most out of the punishments - the aftermath, the part where you'd be forced to receive unwanted affection from the people who had just abused and beaten you to validate their crazed delusions. The part where you were forced to cuddle into their chests and listen to their repeated praise and coos, as though you were a small child who needed coddling. The part where your dignity was stripped and you were reduced to a helpless being who needed everything to be done for them.
When you didn't respond, Derek grabbed your shirt and gently pulled you up onto his lap, chuckling lightly at the way you winced in pain. He pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around you and running his fingers through your abused scalp, caressing the tender flesh of your ass. He had the kindness to pull up your underwear for you but didn't bother with the pants, afraid of smarting the flesh any further than it already had been. You didn't have the energy to fight back anymore, allowing yourself to sink deeply against his chest, breathing in the too-familiar smell of sweat and cologne.
"I'll go get them a bottle of water, or does baby still need the bathroom?" Emily asked, taking the bottle that Rossi handed to her.
"M'need bathroom." You hated how broken your speech became but you were utterly exhausted and couldn't speak above a mumble.
"Of course you can go, so long as you don't kick off this time," Hotch said, a grudge still evident in his tone. While everyone else was eager to move on quickly after the punishment had been doled out and pretend your momentary break in their delusion of love hadn't happened, Hotch held grudges, ones that honestly terrified you to your core.
"I'm sure they won't. Go on, baby, but come straight back." Derek said, guiding you to slip off of his lap and head down the aisle, pulling up your pants with you. It was like a walk of shame but you managed, relieving yourself and spending a moment in the bathroom to collect yourself.
Looking in the mirror, you saw the tear stains running tracks down your red cheeks, the broken look in your once so lively eyes. Your fingers traced the collar and buttons of the shirt that wasn't yours and you never chose to wear, the tie around your neck that was too tight but you weren't allowed to loosen. You felt so weak, so pathetic, so powerless to do anything. If you ran, they'd find you. If you fought back, they'd beat you again. And so all that was left for you to do was limp back down past your colleagues, their eyes burning into your bruised ass, and allow yourself to be pulled back onto Derek's lap, his hand running through your hair, murmuring sweet words that curdled your stomach.