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nereidprinc3ss · 8 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 2

in which fem!reader is feeling insecure about how inexperienced she is around spencer's friends and seeks his expertise to amend the problem

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18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, oral f receiving, (MUNCH!SPENCE RETURNS), fingering, (very) insecure reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, nipple stuff, kinda sorta implied age gap, god i'm probably forgetting things pls lmk if i missed something important a/n: i've been laboring at this bad boy every day for so long i had to immediately post once it was completed lol. there will be a part three ... maybe i already started it ..... anyway i love u guys and i hope this is a satisfactory part two!! PLS lmk if you liked it!! hearing from u makes my day :')

When Spencer dropped you off at Penelope’s apartment for your first girl’s night—the hostess had promised you, JJ, and Emily lots of gossip sans 'icky men'—you had been ecstatic. You wouldn’t stop rambling to him about how excited you were.

When he picks you up two and a half hours later, he can hardly get a word out of you.

It’s not his fault, of course—well, not really, anyway. It’s just that all the girls had wanted to talk about was sex. A topic on which you held very little expertise and had essentially nothing to contribute. Out of the four, you were the only non-FBI agent, the youngest, and undoubtedly the least experienced. It was like high school all over again, except you actually desperately wanted to impress Spencer’s friends. All in all, you weaseled your way out of sharing without giving away that you were still very much a virgin. Sure, you could have said ‘we did hand stuff two weeks ago’, but you had a feeling these women wouldn’t consider that very impressive.

But you can’t easily relay that information to Spencer—even when he immediately picks up on your sullen mood. He asks you what’s wrong as you make your way down the echoey staircase, but you hold back, muttering something along the lines of we’ll talk about it later.

Later doesn’t come on the sidewalk outside. It doesn’t come in the car, or at any point during the twenty minute drive, but you feel it rapidly approaching as you climb the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you, doesn’t speak as you kick off your shoes and wander aimlessly into the living room.

“Did you eat?” He finally asks, hanging his keys on a hook by the door and glancing over to where you linger in the center of the room like a ghost.

“Not hungry.”

You both know that wasn’t the question, but he lets it go.

“Alright... well, I was thinking—“

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

The question flies from your mouth before you can stop it. It tastes like metal and you wish you could take it back as you stand there, cheeks hot and awaiting a reply. It seems you’ve thoroughly astonished Spencer as he gapes at you like a fish out of water for several silent moments, eventually opting to shove his hands in his pockets and shake his head at the wall as he processes the question.

“I… I don’t know. We just haven’t. Does that bother you?”

Suddenly your whole body feels intolerably warm. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. Of course it bothers you.

“Do you just not want to? You aren’t attracted to me like that?”

God, you despise how fragile your voice sounds—how much you obviously care, how insecure you clearly are. Spencer picks up on it, despite your most fervent wishing that he wouldn’t, and approaches, stopping a few feet away. You stare at the span of oriental design on the floor between your feet.

“That’s not at all what I said, angel. I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, then… say something else,” you plead quietly, childishly, still unable to meet his eyes. Prove me wrong.

He sighs, which does not bode well for you. You wonder if you accidentally triggered the early demise of your relationship and christ do you wish you could rewind. When he steps closer, when his hands find your arms, you’re not sure where to look. But the low, sweet tone of his voice entices you to finally meet his gaze, charmed like a snake as his eyes dart between yours.

“You know that’s not how I feel.”

You shake your head earnestly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly rubs your arms.

“No. No, I don’t know that.”

Spencer frowns, glancing at your lips as he speaks. It’s impossible to not do the same when he’s standing so close.

“But I’ve told you. I don’t understand how you couldn’t know how far from the truth that is.”

You think back to two weeks ago—the first and only time he’d ever done anything more than kiss you. A different kind of flush replaces the shameful one in your cheeks as you try to make your case and not get distracted by the memories of his hands all over you.

“So why won’t you prove it?”

It’d been intended to come out cool, but instead you sound a little desperate, a little out of breath as you realize you and Spencer somehow ended up so close to each other you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Is that what you need from me? More proof?”

He speaks so lowly, his fingers press into the flesh of your arms portentously, and you think maybe you’ve poked the bear one too many times. But you won’t back down now—not when you think you might actually get what you want.

So you look up at him and nod, throat too dry to speak. His eyes are deceptively soft, but you don’t miss the big bad something lurking just beneath the surface of the placid hazel.

“And how do you think I should prove it?”

“I told you what I want,” you whisper, speaking above your pounding heart.

“Not tonight, honey. Choose something else.”

“Well—that’s not fair,” you stammer, “the whole point is for you to want to have sex with me.”

Spencer smiles a little, tucking hair behind your ear. “I do want that. I promise you I do. But there are other things I want us to do first.”

“Then I want to do that, too! I just—I don’t know what I’m doing, and you do, and I’m already out on a limb by asking for this much. I know this is what I want but I need you to take the lead here. I trust you, Spencer.” You top off the monologue with an imploring gaze—hoping it delivers even a fraction of the impact that his puppy-dog eyes always have on you.

He seems to study every square inch of your face as you wait in suspense for him to say something. At long last, his lips part—to no avail for several more seconds as he regards you.

When the words finally do come, they’re an immense relief of pressure.

“You’re going to promise me that you’ll communicate honestly. That means telling me if we need to slow down or stop, or if you don’t like something—”

“I promise,” you say, perhaps over-eagerly, offering him your extended little finger.

An incredulous smile narrows his eyes.

“Is this a pinky-promise?”

“It is.” You wiggle the finger in emphasis, and he shakes his head, smiling wider as you link pinkies.

“I left you with Garcia for far too long.”

You shush him, disentangling your hands to cup his jaw and press your lips to his. It’s sweet and smiley until it isn’t—until everything slows down like sticky molasses and his hand is ghosting over your cheek, your neck, the curve of your waist, finally substantiating itself on your hip—the other encouraging you to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss and you feel yourself melting under the heat of his touch.

The pressure of his body against yours builds until you’re forced to take a step back, and then another, and another. Without question you allow yourself to be herded toward the bedroom, walked slowly backward as he keeps kissing you and blindly trusting he’ll make sure you don’t run in to anything. The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and it is in all practicality a pointless gesture—but you find it incredibly comforting nonetheless.

It’s too warm beneath your sweater and his hands are cool as they slip under the hem, sliding against the curve of your hip. Spencer’s never seen you without a shirt, you realize, as he pulls away from the kiss by only centimeters.

“Off?” he mutters, thumbing at the knit fabric. And while you’re far from confident, you’ve certainly been making progress in this area. You help him tug it over your head without a word, noting a distinct and surprising lack of terror within yourself as you watch for his reaction to you. Hands glide slowly up your waist and you find yourself enchanted by the slight furrow of his brow, the parting of his lips. He traces down the lacy edge of your bra, skimming sensitive skin as he goes.

“Pretty,” he murmurs. “You’re… so pretty.”

It seems you’ve rendered him uncharacteristically prosaic. The reaction might be underwhelming if it were anyone else—but Spencer Reid is a man who probably knows every synonym for pretty in the English language. Looking at you, he can’t think of a single one. In an odd way, it’s the highest compliment he could pay you. Your cheeks heat and your stomach flips as he drags a knuckle up the center of the cup, and you can feel it through the layers of lace and fabric. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours and continuing to run his fingers over the sensitive spot. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

This is one argument you will not be winning—one he’ll keep bringing up at the most inopportune times until he gets his way.

“Spencer…”

“Don’t Spencer me. I’m asking you a question.”

The words don’t seem nearly as harsh as they really are when they’re delivered velvet-soft, with his lips and hands on you—when he’s so deftly popping the button on your jeans and dragging the zipper down with all the quickness of a slight-of-hand. It makes it hard to focus, even harder to speak.

“We have… we have differing views on this matter.”

Generous handfuls of your hips and ass are taken as he helps you tug down your jeans before you kick them off, now left just in your underwear.

“I thought I argued my point fairly well last time you were here. You didn’t learn anything from that?”

“Mm… maybe you just need to remind me.”

“Oh, I think I have to,” he agrees through a smile you can only hear. Gentle fingers skim up your back and tap the clasp of your bra. “How about this? Can we take this off?”

Any confidence from earlier crumbles and you loose a nervous hum—which is not the enthusiastic yes you’re sure Spencer will be seeking all evening. He pulls away, features etched with the beginnings of concern and a searching gaze. Asking would be unnecessary; the words simply come tumbling out of you.

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

Spencer doesn’t even blink.

“That’s not going to happen.”

How you wish you could have the same assuredness in yourself that he seems to.

“But what if… what if you’ve been with other girls who are more, like—I don’t know, just—better? Prettier?”

“Honey, you’re—” a sigh, a pause as he searches for the words—his eyes dart up and down your form, assessing, and when he looks back up at you, they’ve cleared and softened. He pulls you a little closer, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. I’m not interested in anyone else right now. I already think you’re perfect, and I’m going to keep thinking that regardless of how you look. When I look at you, I’m not looking for things to critique. Do you understand me?”

As far as sentiments go, it’s a nice one. But the pressure of being seen still feels like an impossible burden. You whine, leaning your head against Spencer’s chest. He accepts your weight and runs his hand over your back as you look up at him.

“But what if I’m hideously deformed?”

His eyebrows raise.

“You’re not.”

“But what if I am?”

“Okay. It seems like you don’t feel ready yet, which is completely fine, we just won’t—”

“No!” you protest. “I am ready. I am. But… you have to promise to be nice to me no matter what. Or break up with me if you don’t like what you see so I don't have to wonder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, kissing you, “and the only thing I’m willing to promise is that I’ll think you’re perfect. Me being nice will come as a natural byproduct of that which is very different than being nice by artifice. Take it or leave it.”

A moment of hesitance—but it’s short-lived. This is more important than your insecurities. Spencer is more important.

“Take it,” you mumble against his lips. His fingers trace up the smooth skin of your back, all the way to the fabric and metal hooks on your bra.

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have thought Spencer’s genius would manifest in being really good at undoing the clasp of a bra, but you can truly say you’re impressed by the ease with which he does it. It falls to the floor, leaving you completely shirtless for the first time in front of him.

“Well?” you murmur, arms crossed defensively underneath your chest, because you understand overtop would sort of ruin the whole thing. “What’s the verdict?”

“You,” Spencer manages after a moment—you literally watch him memorizing every square inch of your body— “are ridiculously beautiful.”

The way his voice gets quieter makes your stomach flip. It sounds genuine. Too genuine to be faked.

“So… no breakup?”

It seems that the more vulnerable you feel, the less likely you are to take a compliment. Spencer, who is always seeking patterns, probably recognizes this one, and doesn’t push you so hard this time. After a silent moment, he sighs and cradles your face in his hands.

“You’re gorgeous. I hate how incapable you are of seeing that. We’re going to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but not right now, right?” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“Not right now,” he agrees.

His lips are so soft and gentle against your own it feels like love, it feels like being talked down from the ledge of your own insanity. Somehow the way he strokes your hip feels more nurturing than sexual. It’s like he has sex and chaste affection on tap, able to turn them on and off at will. You’re happy to drown in either. Ideally, both.

After a while, his hands begin roaming farther, become bolder in their excursions over your flesh. Up, down, over your waist and ribs. Clearly Spencer had been trying to ease you into it, but you still can’t hide your sharp inhalation when his thumbs graze the sensitive skin of your breasts. He pulls his lips from yours, hands splayed over your sides.

“Sit down.”

It’s much too gentle to be a command, but you frown.

“Without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, lightly squeezing your waist. “Just sit. Utilize patience.”

You sit on the edge of the bed with an atypical reticence—you’re just a little too nervous for a snippy comeback. Spencer picks up on this, features softening sympathetically as he undoes his tie with nimble fingers. It lands somewhere on the bed and he leans over you, resting his weight on his fists and offering you a quick kiss. His voice is soft and designed to soothe as he speaks, mere inches away from your face, and so quiet it could only be heard at this range.

“Are you nervous?” Cloth from the duvet pinches between your fingers. For a moment you don’t reply, dropping your head to watch when Spencer runs his hand over your thigh. “It’s okay if you’re feeling anxious, baby. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You expel a frustrated huff.

“I want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I can handle a little bit of anxiety.”

He hums, dropping to a crouch and inserting himself directly in your line of sight.

“I know you can. But you don’t always have to push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine pushing myself a little. I pinky-promised I would tell you if I wanted to stop, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget a pinky-promise?” he smiles.

How could you forget anything, you think, becoming flushed and silently insolent at his dulcet teasing.

“Please, do something.” It’s a whisper, brushing his lips as you lean down until you’re nose to nose. His hands are on the back of your legs.

“I’m working on it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“You’re smart, angel. Tell me why I've got you naked on my bed and I’m kneeling in front of you. Where could I possibly be taking this?”

Oh, you have a pretty strong inkling—but you’re scared to voice it and be wrong. Instead of risking it you shake your head slowly, shyly. What you’re not expecting is for Spencer to duck his head down, slide his hands up the side of your thighs and press kisses to the delicate skin there. It feels good—better than you’d have thought.

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking up at you through burnished gold-rimmed pupils. “No guesses?”

“No guesses,” you agree breathlessly, hotter than you were when you had your clothes on and all the energy in your body condensed into one point between your legs. Spencer hums like he’s considering your answer, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin of your thighs so gently it feels like burning.

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Lie back, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, scooting up on the mattress and falling back on your elbows. Spencer wastes no time in climbing over you, leaving you in much the same position as the last time you’d been in his bed. The sheets feel cool against your bare skin, but he is exceptionally warm and solid over you.

“I’m being honest.” Lie. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

Lips find the most sensitive spot of your neck, dancing over it torturously. The front of his shirt brushes your chest. Your thighs clamp together.

“I don't like being lied to. Just say it, baby. I know you know.”

“Spencer,” you whine, fists bunching the excess fabric around his waist. Warm breath condensates on the skin of your neck as he chuckles.

“You don’t like being teased, huh?”

“Please, Spence,” you whisper. You notice the pattern of his breathing pause momentarily before it all comes rushing out at once—and you catalogue that particular plea for later usage.

“I can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

You push your fingers into his soft hair.

“I know.”

It was a lucky guess.

He’s still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your hands in his hair, before darting up to kiss you.

“I’m going to use my mouth this time,” he murmurs against your lips. Though you knew that was what he intended, your heart stumbles in its perpetual march. “Is that okay?”

“What if I…”

You trail off. This is a very intimate situation which you’re not quite sure you have delicate enough language for. Or maybe you’re just stalling. Either way, Spencer is eternally patient with you.

“You need to stop worrying so much, pretty girl. I’d love to do this for you. But it’s your call.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“Sometimes I think not strong enough.”

The way he’s looking down at you so tenderly, brushing hair from your face, makes you think maybe he’s not just talking about how much he would love to go down on you. Regardless, it fortifies your trust in him. Spencer is the kindest person you know. He’s so clearly an enthusiastic giver. Why not allow him to give you this?

“Okay,” you breathe. “You can—yeah.”

As usual, you’re impressively awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you think he not-so-secretly delights in being the one to fluster instead of the other way around. Rarely has he mentioned his past romantic and sexual exploits, but gathering bits and pieces, you assume he was a fairly late bloomer. He probably knows what it’s like to be nervous and so deeply unsure of yourself.

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he whispers, pressing butterfly-light kisses to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips traverse down your neck, teeth skimming over the delicate skin while your breath catches.

“Mhm.”

“You’re not gonna break that promise, are you?”

His voice, soft and muffled by your skin, is the most exhilarating and disorienting high. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation, satisfied only where his lips soothe and his body presses against yours. It takes a moment for you to remember to reply.

“No.”

Reward comes in the form of his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast at the same time as he murmurs, “good girl.”

Your stomach flips at the endearment—you squeak and arch into him slightly. Spencer’s hand slides down your ribs as he chuckles, lips pressed just above your collarbone.

“You’ve never called me that before,” you shudder as he continues kissing over your neck.

“It’s not appropriate in most conversational contexts. But I can tell you’ve always been good.”

“Really? How?”

Spencer pauses, pushing himself up to regard you with searching eyes. The places he’d kissed feel cold without him.

“I just can. You’re thinking too much, baby. I need your focus on me.”

“It is on you,” you huff.

You watch his expression shift minutely. He loves games. Of course he’d love playing with you. That knowledge is why you’re only partially surprised when his thumb catches on your nipple again.

“Is it? You’re only thinking about how it feels when I touch you here?”

A stammering nod.

He toys with the sensitive flesh only a second more, amusement lighting his eyes, before dragging his hand down, down, down until it’s between your legs. Fingers trail over your clothed core, skimming the most sensitive part of you while your breath hitches.

“Tell me how it feels when I touch you here.”

“Really good,” you admit, a heavy exhale escaping parted lips as he pins you with his gaze.

“Really good, right. I can make it feel even better. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

Your thighs drop fully open and he adds just a bit more pressure until you’re pushing against his hand in search of more friction.

“Yes please.”

“Then no more questions. I need you to trust me.”

Your answer is a breathy, dreamy sigh—you’d do anything, say anything for him.

“Okay.”

Spencer kisses you, absorbing your noises of protest as his hand ceases between your legs and settles on your hip. But you’re trusting him. No whiny complaining. No unnecessary questions.

Things go much quicker once you’re not interrupting him every twenty seconds to say something. His lips reattach to your neck, retracing their path (albeit quicker) until he’s below your collarbone. You watch in rapt fascination, twisted brows and parted lips as he peppers kisses down over your breast before dragging his tongue over your nipple. A jolted little moan spills out because you hadn’t been prepared to hold one in. Waves of hair fall over Spencer’s face, obscuring him from your vision, but you don’t think to push it away—your body is too busy processing the sensation to be much use on any other front. He darts his tongue over the peaked flesh, eliciting more little open-mouthed exhalations of pleasure from you. Earlier you hadn’t really thought it necessary for your bra to come off—you had no idea this could actually feel so good. A moment later he begins toying with the other nipple and you gasp as a bolt of heat goes straight to your core.

You curse, further words catching in your throat as he suddenly switches, mouthing at your other breast and letting the cold air chill the other until you have goosebumps. It feels a little like hypnosis—you’re unable to move or speak as his tongue laves over you. Soon he’s replacing his mouth with a thumb again, sucking a mark onto your tit just above your nipple. You whimper a little at the pleasant brutality of it, hoping as he releases that it won’t soon fade. Spencer swipes over the stinging skin and presses a tender kiss to it, almost like an apology—but you sincerely doubt he’s actually sorry.

Then he resumes his descent, leaving soft kisses down between your breasts, over your ribcage and stomach—when he reaches your hips, he doesn’t pull off your underwear all at once. Rather, he slides the fabric down centimeter by centimeter, kissing the revealed skin like it’s precious.

This time you don’t need to be told to lift your hips. He helps you slip the final piece of clothing down and off of your legs, flinging it somewhere blindly before getting comfortable between your thighs once more. Your heart pounds with arousal and anxiety as his arms wrap around your thighs and his hands rub up and down the tops of them slowly.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, loosening his hold on one leg to thumb at your folds. They glisten in the dim light of his bedroom as he gently reveals your clit. A soft whine escapes you when he nudges at the aching bud, slipping over it a few times and alleviating a bit of the pressure that’s been building. “Shh, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. You’re being so good for me.”

Fuck. The way he talks to you makes your brain turn to mush—you’re utterly incapable of forming an intelligent thought. Spencer has rendered you a complete idiot, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest.

He presses more gentle kisses to the creases between your thighs, just above your clit—everywhere except for where you need him most. Everything aches for him in the best way and at least you’re too turned on to be very insecure anymore. All you want is relief. But you’re trusting him.

Thankfully, he delivers.

The tip of his tongue grazes so lightly over your clit that if you weren’t this worked up you may not have felt it at all. In your current state, however, the stimulation echoes through every atom of your being. Every muscle is tense, frozen in place—you can’t even breathe for a second. He does it again, a little flatter, with a little more pressure, and you whimper. It’s a delicate thing, almost pained and definitely overwhelmed as he gently begins working his tongue against you. Your head cranes up to watch, your jaw drops. Approximations of curse words try to form, but come out only as, “f-fu—oh,” so whiny and soft it doesn’t even sound like you. He hums sympathetically, but you suspect it morphs into a chuckle as you continue to gasp and mewl.

There are times where you can hold back sounds of pleasure. When you’re by yourself, it’s typically not a problem. Two weeks ago when Spencer was knuckle deep in you for the first time, it had certainly been a challenge, and you’d pretty much given up. But this—this is something else entirely. It feels like religion. It feels like compulsion. Even if you had the slightest modicum of control over yourself, which you currently don’t, you wouldn’t want to keep quiet. You want him to know what he’s doing to you.

So you let every cry, every whine and whimper drag from your lungs, unbidden and unshaped. You’re new at this, after all—every broad lick feels so good that you have no fucking idea what do to with your hands or how to stop rolling your hips or how to censor your sounds.

“Spencer,” you keen in one of the moments you remember to breathe. He moans against you, taking you into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your hips buck. “Oh, my��fuck!”

The hand that’s still around your thigh rubs soothing lines up and down. The one that’s spreading you open pulls your folds apart a little bit further, granting him more access to your clit. He flicks his tongue and you almost come then and there, vision going gray for a split second.

“Wait, wait, Spence—“ you squeak, writhing and trying not to squeeze your thighs together for fear of hurting him. He pulls back and looks up at you, lips shining with your slick and eyes glazed with lust. Fuckfuckfuck he looks so fucking good. “Please, just… slow down, or I’m gonna… or it’s gonna be over.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he rubs circles into your inner thigh.

“It’s over when you say it’s over. You don’t have a refractory period. We don’t have to stop at one.”

“Oh—you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” you stammer.

“I know I don’t have to. But if you want me to, I want to. You taste so good, angel girl.”

Well, shit.

He looks absurdly sexy between your legs like this. You have no idea how you got so lucky, but you don’t plan on taking it for granted. Your fingers tangle in his hair.

“I don’t know if I can do more than one,” you admit shyly, slightly embarrassed by how little you know about yourself and in general compared to Spencer. Hazel eyes sparkle in the warm light.

“How about we start with one and see how it feels?”

Your voice is breathy when you respond, “okay,” already impatient for him to get back to it. Spencer seems just as eager, immediately kissing between your legs with a passion that makes your lips jealous.

The flat of his tongue presses circles against you and your hips buck, already ramping up to that point you’d been at before calling a time-out. Slowly his fingers find their way to your entrance and he teases you with them, dipping in to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. If you could form words, you’d beg him to just do it already, but all you can manage is an affronted whine as you tilt your hips down, hoping he catches the meaning.

Of course he does—pushing two fingers inside you at once. The intrusive stretch adds a sharp edge to the pleasure, makes it more interesting, as your brain short-circuits and you choke out a moan. It only takes a few slow pumps of his fingers in tandem with the pressure of his tongue until your hips are writhing and you’re and mewling desperately, more overwhelmed with pleasure than you’ve ever been. You push his hair back, able to see him for the first time, and fully appreciate the hollow of his cheeks, the way he looks up at you with perfect, glassy half-lidded eyes, the rhythm of his hand and tongue—he takes your clit between his lips once more, sucking lightly, and you’re done for. A pornographic sob escapes from deep within you as you come, but he doesn’t stop. The orgasm lasts longer than you knew one could—although, it’s only your second time, so you don’t exactly have a lot of data to go off of. Your entire body feels warm and floaty, and what he’s doing feels so good you want him even deeper—but you know he won’t give you that yet. Instead you focus on the slow burn of your orgasm, allowing him to carry on for a while until you begin slowly drifting back to earth and it becomes a bit too much. He recognizes the barely-there whine for what it is and pulls his fingers from you carefully, pressing one final kiss to your clit that makes your legs twitch and summons a weak little moan.

Spencer’s lips find other avenues, over the delicate skin of your thighs and hips and stomach as he slowly drags himself up again. By the time you’re face to face again you’re still breathing hard. You sort of feel like prey underneath his weight, studied so scrupulously, known far more intimately by him than anyone has ever known you before. But there is so much light and kindness in the way he looks at you that you almost can’t make sense of it.

Maybe it’s possible to be known and still wanted. The possibility spins like a coin on its edge in your mind. An idea you spent so much time trying to nurture and is only just now beginning to sprout. Maybe someone could see you at your most vulnerable, and still find you worthy of kindness. Appreciation. Affection.

Spencer certainly could, it seems, as he ducks down to kiss you. You dodge it, turning your head demurely. He nudges his head against yours, speaking so, so softly, utterly cloying as he teases, “what? You’re not gonna kiss me now? Is that how it is?”

“No!” you balk, equally as quiet and especially bashful. “Not when you… no.”

“Let me kiss you,” he pleads, so earnestly you turn your head back to face him. His big eyes are hazy, reflecting all the warmth and dizziness you feel. “Let me kiss you. Please.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna… taste… myself.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat.

“Hm. We’ll need to work on that. Because one day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.”

Something flickers in your core.

Suddenly you’re not so squeamish. You really want him to kiss you now. But it seems he’s going to have his fun, first.

“Open.” Without even thinking about it, your lips part. He really ought to be careful with what he tells you to do—you’re all too compliant. Even as his fingers slip between your lips, you’re obediently hollowing your cheeks around them, watching him with big eyes as his own mouth falls slightly open. “Oh, baby,” he croons. “What are we gonna do with you?”

That flicker has returned to a full-fledged throbbing once you open your mouth again, slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen.

“Can you make me come again right now?” you whisper, grasping lightly at his shirt. He grins like he loves the idea—and you let him have his way, accepting his lips on yours with no complaint. After a few moments, (the taste is surprisingly unobtrusive), he pulls away.

“I would love to.”

part three

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut

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blkkizzat · 24 days ago

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🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟹........... THE CULT LEADER ......filed under the that's not my jjk man series

visitor log: you shouldn't have even been watching the gate bunny, that's much too hard for you! so when you inevitably fuck up, your cult leader boyfriend—geto suguru—has the perfect punishment planned for you and your pretty pussy wait..in front of his entire congregation tho!? classifications: dumb bimbo!reader, canonverse of nerd!geto's bunny!reader, cult rhetoric, dark themes, sensory deprivation/amaurophilia, punishment, humiliation, shibari, edging, overstim, exhibitionism, toxic jealousy, possessiveness, yandere Suguru, drugged sex, cnc/free-use reader, mentions of orgies/group sex and a bit of forced breeding. incidents: 5.8k

“Nuh-uh, nope you gotta be a fake!”

Suguru sighed, irritation brewing beneath his calm exterior. If he didn’t convince you he was the real deal soon, he’d be late to his weekly midnight mass—a gathering of his most devoted (and wealthiest) followers he couldn’t afford to miss.

Be that as it may, he still tries to be patient with you—his Bunny.

Ever since the doppelgängers started appearing, you’ve been a bundle of nerves, and Suguru knows you’re spiraling right now—he’s had to talk you down more times than he can count over the past few weeks. You’ve been worrying nonstop about something happening to him, Mimiko, or Nanako, even though they all possess far more cursed energy than you.

If anything, it’s you who should be worried about yourself.

Holding the barrier around the entire compound is already draining your very limited cursed energy, and it’s taking a visible toll—your fatigue evident in your wavering stance as well as the sweat beading on your brow.

Suguru, noticing this, shows a bit more patience—especially since he returned a day earlier than expected and, most conveniently, no one else is around to witness him being made a fool. Something that would be more likely now that his following had grown significantly during this doppelgänger-induced quarantine, demanding more of his attention by the day.

“Come now, Bunny, let’s rationali—”

“Nope! No way! you can’t trick me! Besides, if you were the real Suguru, you could just break the barrier by now! I’m not stupid like you, ya dumb doppel!”

Not stupid?

Suguru would hate to have to tell you the truth to your face and upset his pretty lil’ bunny but, you were in fact, pretty ditzy—his current predicament a testament to that. Pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers, Suguru is almost at his limit with you.

But he couldn’t just break the barrier himself.

Of course, ability not being an issue—he could easily do it. The problem is at this hour, breaking the barrier would trigger alarms throughout the compound, both cursed and physical, throwing cursed users and followers alike into a frenzy.

It simply wasn’t worth the trouble.

Shaking his head, Suguru tries a different tactic with you.

“Bunny, please—just go fetch Nanako and Mimiko. Bring them here to sort this out, alright? Can you manage that for me?”

A contemplative expression appears on your face, as if you were seriously mulling over the ramifications of his very simple request—a reaction he knew didn’t bode well for him.

“Hmm… nah!”

Frustrated, the cracks in Suguru’s patience with you begin to show.

“And just why the hell not, Bunny?”

Surguru’s grits his teeth, brow twitching, attempting to maintain his cool as you look at him like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“They’re already in bed! They still have school tomorrow—even if it's virtual! I’m not waking them up just so they can see a doppel version of you! It might scare them.”

Rolling his eyes, Suguru blames himself really.

Since joining his cause you’ve spent more time bent over his desk, the plush round curves of your backside glistening with his cum that is painted liberally across your skin, than you’ve spent looking him in the face.

But his weakness of being partial to the bounce back jiggle of your fat ass was now thoroughly biting him on his own—especially as you insist the problem is that his ear gauges are too big. Something Suguru couldn’t even be too upset about as after all, he had gone up a size recently, so you weren’t exactly wrong.

Still, he hadn’t expected you of all people to be perceptive enough to notice, so he now regrettably never bothered mentioning it.

Suguru knew he’d have to come up with another way to convince you. At the same time, he vowed to kill whoever had been slacking on their job and put you at the gate. Tasks like these weren’t suited for you—though, to be fair, most tasks weren’t.

That’s why other than his personal fleshlight, when your sinful lil’ pussy wasn’t getting private spiritual guidance from his cock, you spent your time behind the front desk of reception. The perfect decorative bait for the followers flocking to his temple for refuge from the doppel crisis. Your beauty along with your bright cheery demeanor did just the trick to lure in those distraught and perverted monkeys into his cult, whose wallets he could exploit until they were no longer of use to him.

Suguru takes out his phone, calling the twins himself but neither Nanako nor Mimiko answer. He considers calling someone else—literally anyone—but he knows they’re all gathered in the main hall by now, without their phones, as most electronics are strictly forbidden outside the dormitories.

As a last-ditch effort, Suguru scrolls through his texts to show you the lewd photo you sent him earlier that same day—the racy upskirt of you with 2 of your manicured fingers wedged into your tight sloppy cunt while stationed at the front desk accompanied by the ‘miss u daddy’ text.

“Oh woooow! Dopplegangers can clone iclouds too!? Y’all are really good!”

Oh for the love of…

At his wits end, Suguru thinks he might actually have to whip his dick out in the middle of the courtyard—your slutty ass would surely recognize that if nothing else.

Yet saving him the indignity, suddenly, a bright camera flash materializes behind you catching both of your attention.

“Nanako, this isn’t our room!”

Nanako and Mimiko?!

“Shhh—Shut it! Do you know how hard it was to get inside the barrier, at all?! Urgh I feel queasy now…Plus, I can’t concentrate because my feet hurt so bad from these heels. There was nowhere to sit in that club! Let’s just get back to our rooms before Geto-sama notices we—”

Yet realizing their predicament sooner, Mimiko’s eyes nearly pop out of her skull as she rapidly taps Nanako’s shoulder, who whirls around to see a now-visibly pissed off Suguru.

“—Oh shii—Geto-sama…?”

Not only did he have to deal with his airheaded Bunny failing to recognize him, but also with two teenagers under his care sneaking out to god knows where, to do god knows what, with god knows whom.

All during a doppelgänger crisis.

Both were dressed in outfits far too revealing and mature for them, outfits Suguru figured they must have pilfered from your closet—since he would never have bought them anything like that in a million years, even if they were old enough to wear it. But Suguru would have to wait until tomorrow morning to have a good stern talk with them—right now he needs their help lest you leave him out here all night.

“Girls, please. I am in need of your assistance. Don’t fret, neither of you are the one that’s in trouble right now.”

Suguru’s piercing glare startles you, his oppressing cursed energy sending familiar tingles down your spine and for the first time that night you begin to wonder if you had actually messed up.

Oh yes, Bunny, you had fucked up—big time.

Failing to recognize him and letting the twins sneak out under your nose was a serious mistake and you need to be corrected.

Thankfully, Cult Leader Suguru knows exactly how to punish you and in a way that would further his own purposes too.

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

Lounging casually and only dressed in a thin white kosode, his priest robes discarded, Suguru gazes out at the sea of his gathered followers.

His irritation mounting as he awaits your arrival.

What could possibly be delaying you?

He had given strict orders for you to change and meet him in the main hall, where he intended to deliver your punishment.

Punishments from Suguru weren’t something you were unfamiliar with. He often finds himself frustrated with you and in need to relieve his tension, using your snug lil pussy as he sees fit.

But the urges the bubbling anxiety he felt at the moment to lock you away, keeping you hidden where no one else could ever lay eyes on you, wasn’t about punishment.

No, the crux of it being, at his core, Suguru was a fiercely jealous man.

He wanted you all to himself, tucked in a delicate, untouchable box, far from the gaze of a world unworthy of what belongs to him.

But Suguru keeps that possessiveness well-hidden, just like all his other flaws.

Geto Suguru, the cult leader, always radiated an air of calm benevolence, a true messiah in their eyes. It earned him their unwavering devotion, even though they knew of his cruelty his followers justified it every time—convincing themselves that any punishment he inflicted was well deserved.

This rationalization, along with his suppression of personal desires, all stemmed from the unwavering commitment to his utilitarian views of the Jujutsu world.

Suguru knows he must set aside his own wants for the greater good of his cause. He had already made the ultimate sacrifices when he killed his parents and excommunicated himself from the rest—including the only other person to have ever known the true him—and he had no intention of stopping now.

That’s right, it was all for his cause and his cause is the sole reason a vehemently covetous man like Geto Suguru is about to fuck you in front of his entire congregation.

The heavy doors of the large meeting hall ceremoniously reopen and you are brought before him blindfolded and dressed in a similar matching kosode.

The wispy fabric only lightly touches your skin, offering little protection from the drafty air that seeps through as you are guided up the steps to the stage.

Yet little do you know the blindfold is completely unnecessary.

No one else in the packed auditorium wears one, but Suguru self-indulges in this one thing with the reasoning that— ‘If you couldn’t trust your eyes to recognize him, then he will have to train your body to recognize his voice and touch alone.’

Once you’re placed in your designated position—on a smaller altar set upon the elevated stage—your retainers swiftly retreat, leaving you standing alone.

Facing Suguru, with your side turned toward the audience, you feel the weight of their lecherous stares even if you can’t see them.

It was a peculiar yet thrilling feeling—losing your sight, yet knowing so many eyes were on you.

Watching, waiting, and lusting over your body that only Suguru is permitted to touch. The notion alone is enough to make your body shiver harder than any chill would cause.

Seeing you try to contain your nerves, Suguru regards you with interest as your small hands tug at the sides of your robe and you try your hardest to steady your breathing. At this point you were willing to do whatever it took to set right your earlier transgressions with Suguru.

You felt absolutely terrible for not recognizing him, on top of allowing Nanako and Mimiko to sneak out right under your nose! You were just thankful at the opportunity for forgiveness.

Although Suguru already knows you are too infatuated with him to deny him anything, especially when it comes to taking dick, anytime or any place he asked you to. Suguru, is throughly pleased with your obedience as he needed your cooperation for this licentious stunt.

Though Suguru finds the more debased aspects of cult culture crude, he knows they serve a vital purpose: ensuring total indoctrination.

With the rapid expansion of his following, fear-mongering and promises of salvation were no longer enough to maintain control.

Initially, the cult attracted outcasts and those on society's fringes. But as the poison of fear spread throughout Tokyo, married couples and families alike sought refuge from the new threat—doppelgängers visible even to those without cursed energy.

His inner circle of cursed users agreed—control was now more crucial than ever. Not just physical or emotional control, but dominance over every detail of his followers’ lives.

Suguru needed to dictate how they thought, what they ate, when they bathed, and how long they slept—every aspect of their pathetic existence. He intended to shape their perception of themselves in the new world he was building, so much so that they wouldn’t dare take a breath without first considering if it pleased ‘Geto-sama’ (it never would, though he tolerated it for the time being).

Now, the final step remains.

With the power he wielded as their omnipotent savior, Suguru couldn’t allow their vows to each other to interfere with their vows to serve him.

And what better way to weaken these bonds than through unadulterated hedonism?

Like the tenacity of Japanese knotweed, once the seeds of adultery were scattered, their venomous vines could not be contained. They would tear through the toughest stone as they would the supposed everlasting promise of martial vows and in turn shred them—making their relationships as fragile as wet paper.

And to do that, Suguru needed you—the object of lust for nearly every virile male monkey in his cult to spur them into a depravity.

Nevertheless, in this showcase of debauchery you would be the only one allowed to touch him—and regardless of any bullshit he feeds his followers, words dripping with a faux sugary coating of ‘sharing oneself wholly with your community’ to tempt his followers into the highest betrayal—he is the only one allowed to touch you.

Finally rising from his post Suguru approaches as you slowly begin to unravel, your senses fraying bit by bit as they are caught between both the fear and the eagerness of finally being touched by Suguru after he’d been gone three whole days.

However, despite your efforts to remain still you are nevertheless startle, not having sensed his presence behind you, when Suguru’s powerful hands rest on your shoulders, both reassuring you and securing you in place.

Your breath quickens along with the dampening between your legs. Leaking, your arousal begins to secrete onto your thick inner thighs that are dutifully pressed together underneath your paper-thin garment.

One of his followers swiftly sets a cushion before your feet then disappears again as Suguru’s grip tightens and he lowers you, his precious little Bunny, onto your knees.

Anticipation surges through your veins and settles right into the fiery pit of need stirring in your core when you feel him kneel behind you.

Even blindfolded, Suguru’s hulking presence has you feeling so small in front of him.

“Let us begin.”

You feel yourself rattle from his voice booming over you while simultaneously Suguru’ swiftly pulls the ties on your robe loose with ease—snatching the garment away and exposing the sides of your naked body to his mass of followers.

Hushed whispers of the congregation immediately erupt, sending tingles racing across your flesh. You can’t help but moan untouched as an unfamiliar heat simmers in your bones.

Sure, you were getting plenty turned on from being watched—not knowing how many of the familiar faces you greeted daily were now leering at you…but this felt like something…different.

“Tsk.”

Suguru chides, surveying your body and noticing you as your chubby little clit, already swollen with need, eagerly peeking out from your folds to greet his congregation.

With a slight smirk Suguru reaches from behind you to deliver a loud reprimanding smack to your pussy. Chastising your cunt’s lack of decorum in front of his followers, the slick moisture of your folds echoes throughout the silence.

Swallowing down your whimpers, you’re left panting, your tongue already out and your saliva falling upon the altar as you felt like you could have cum from just that single smack alone—something was definitely wrong.

If Suguru notices your sudden distress or hypersensitivity, he says nothing.

Yet his hands never leave you as they begin to roam your body with more urgency, squeezing and kneading—breasts, hips, ass—the drag of his cool palms and blunt nails across your curves leaves scorching arousal sizzling in your very bones. The feelings only intensify tenfold when the sensations of silk begin to twist across your skin.

Skillfully, Suguru weaves the braided ropes around your form leaving you dizzy, the pull and tightening against your flesh felt like the ropes themselves were alive.

Was this—shibari??

“Not to worry—” Suguru authoritatively pronounces when he hears rising murmurs of the masses, “—the restraints are only for the lovely maiden here, so the pleasure of being taken by a God doesn’t completely overwhelm and destroy her.”

Your brow furrows slightly, puzzled until you hear his husky voice coo heavy against your temple, finally cluing you in.

“Not that your slutty mouth isn’t loud enough already Bunny, but we have to make sure to really sell it. The tea’s effects shouldn’t last too long.”

Your breath hitches in a slight panic remembering the sickly-sweet tea one of the handlers told you to drink before entering the hall. Suguru attempts to console you as one of his hands finds its way to your neck constricting it with a gentle but firm pressure as he nibbles slowly up from your jawline.

“Be my brave lil’ Bun now, hm?”

You mewl softly, nodding as you feel completely overtaken by whatever drug he’d secretly given you.

Ultimately though as long as it was Suguru, you’d never deny him anything.

Suguru presses a chaste kiss behind your ear as a reward for your compliance.

Continuing his shibari handiwork, Suguru’s low hums vibrate through you from your nape down as he continues to restrain you with the smooth ropes.

"Bunny ears, bunny ears, playing by a tree. Criss-cross the tree, trying to catch me..."

The dragonfly harness tie he’s putting you in requires bunny ear knots, the irony of your situation not lost on him and considering your nickname—Suguru changes the rest of the rhyme to tease you further as he coos:

“Bunny girl, bunny girl, fucked into my pole—leaking my cum from out the inside, beautiful and bold.”

Given the go ahead to be loud, you don’t restrain the sob rips from your throat this time as tears slip through your blindfold down your cheeks. You felt like you might die soon if he didn’t fuck you as the need racing through you taunted your every nerve.

But Suguru wouldn’t be rushed and takes his time finishing off your restraints with bight knots, the result Suguru deems is that you tie up beautifully in red shibari contrasting against the color of your skin.

Although tempted, Suguru never used shibari on you before. Yet the way your soft skin bulged against the ropes digging into the flesh of your doughy body made his cock twitch violently—he’d be doing this again.

You whine when you feel Suguru rise up. You fear him leaving you bound and bare but his hand rests on the top of your head as if to silence your concerns, letting you know he was still near.

Not that you thought he had gone far as you swear you can smell his very arousal filling the air.

You weren’t wrong either.

Suguru had since moved to stand in front of you now and the evidence of his own heated erection becomes apparent when his milky beads slowly splat onto your face. Droplets rolling past the tip of your nose, your tongue eagerly darts out to savor his seed.

Moaning like a slut just from the taste of him, your visible hot breath openly salivating, your mouth so eager and ready to be used by him, makes Suguru throb harder. Your chest heaves, tilting forward for more as the restraints pinning your arms behind your back forces you into the most perfect little arch.

Not being able to deny his lil Bunny her carrot any longer, Suguru taps the tip of his weepy length on your tongue.

“Wider.”

And you comply.

The cavern of your mouth expanding to showcase ropy webs of spittle. Suguru’s meaty length breaks through them easily though as he slides over your quivering tongue hitting deep into the back of your throat. He’s thick, enormously so and tears sting your eyes under the blindfold as you passively let him use you.

That is, until you hear the command—

“Suck.”

Sighing with relief your mouth encloses the best it can, jaw relaxed yet strained to accommodate his size. You bob down further before rising up to suckle at his tip.

Humming with approval, Suguru is pleased that your restrained arms don’t stop you from being the cock-hungry slut he knows you to be.

True to form, although you cannot stroke him, you still lick him just as nasty—resting the shaft of his heavy cock on your chin while you tongue up the strong vein on the underside.

Completely, uncaring for the mess he leaks all over your face, you continue unhindered as your blindfold and cheeks are soiled in streaks of white.

A ripple of hushed awe sweeps through the crowd, some who couldn’t resist stroking themselves as they watched with envy. Suguru casts an annoyed glance at them before returning his focus to you.

Filthy ingrates.

Grinding his teeth, Suguru has to resist the urge to roll his eyes at his congregation’s shameless lust over you. Even if you were a perfect slut, the human embodiment of a succubus, they still didn’t deserve to lay eyes on you—let alone stroke themselves filthy to you.

One day he would punish them all for it too.

Rip out their eyes and summon the Rainbow Dragon curse to devour them all in one fell swoop—but unfortunately not today.

Suguru’s rising agitation makes his cock more impatient, the laps from your teasing whore tongue wasn’t enough. Hastily, Suguru grips the back of your neck, snapping his hips forward to thrust into your mouth fully without warning.

Your eyes shoot open, yet again are met with darkness—still blindfolded. Your breath constricts as he plunges himself into until he feels your nose press into the soft pubes at the base of his pubic bone.

Allowing you to adjust momentarily, Suguru wipes away some of the tears and pre caking your cheekbones. His gentle caress travels down your face to wrap firmly around your throat that is bulging full of him.

“Good girl, Bunny, just relax.”

His whispered praises stir up the desperate ache in your pussy and you reflexively relax as Suguru weaves his hands around your hair. Fucking himself down your gullet, Suguru throws his head back.

Suguru’s cock had trained your throat well and like usual, it obediently opened for his use, your narrow tunnel of wet heat forming to the very shape of him.

But while your throat was subservient to him, your pussy was not.

The effects of the tea in full force your cunt coveted the assault your mouth receives. The lust building in your core was maddening.

Fraught with need to relieve any of the tortuous thrum between your legs, cries vibrate through your windpipes restricting tighter around his engorged length causing Suguru to hiss, his own hips stuttering as he almost prematurely releases.

Curious, Suguru’s eyes pry open to see your sloppy pussy soiling a large spot of moisture onto the cushion—somehow the pillow had shamelessly found its way between your plush thighs for you to hump down on.

Pulling himself from your mouth with a pop, your voice croaks as you gasp for air but you’re immediately left pouting at the loss of him.

“Waste not the seed of God.”

Your throat is more than willing to have him back inside regardless of the wild fever fluttering in your pussy.

“Now, now—none of that, not when your greedy lil’ cunt can’t bare my cock to go in any other hole but her.”

Harshly breathing out admonishments for your sluttiness against your neck, Suguru is behind you again, turning your body this time to face the crowd.

Shaking, small tremors of anticipation flowing through you but Suguru doesn’t make you wait long.

His large hands take their fill of your curves as he snakes them across your body, one hand coming to rest over your womb while the other cupped your cunt. His dexterous middle finger rubbing slow agonizing circles on your puffy clit causing you to sob out.

The amount of slick pouring from you makes it easy for Suguru to manipulate his hand further into your folds, already drenched up to his forearm just from merely swiping his fingers through your sodden lips.

Suguru’s adam's apple bobs as he ruts his hard and weepy erection against the crack of your ass when your greedy walls unabashedly swallow up his long middle finger like it was his cock.

“Only one finger in this immodest lil’ hole and you are ready to cum for me?’

Another rapturous cry slips from you as Suguru digs another finger into your core, spreading your legs and granting him deeper access. Your squelching pussy getting finger popped is lewdly on display for the entire hall.

Your other senses working overtime as Suguru cores out your insides, pushing into your g-spot and steady towards your release. The hand clutching onto your belly now fondles your spongy bud and you throw your head back against his shoulder.

So close—So close…. Fuckk!

“Hold it.”

His authoritative words command your body to halt soon as you feel yourself about to tumble over your delicious peak. Suguru rips any relief from the insatiable burning in your guts away from you.

“MMMM-FUHHHH, No, no no! Pleasepleaseplease mmmm—Geto-sama! N-Need you!”

You know you should be silent.

You know it’s almost certain he will punish you further.

But any punishment seems insignificant to the fact you feel you might actually die from need if you don’t get his fat cock inside of you soon, your heart feels like it might seize from distress.

Suguru goes still, his firm grip still on your body as his hands pull taunt on the shibari ropes draped across you, quieting your snivels.

Your fears are somewhat assuaged when you hear him chuckle huskily in amusement.

“Hmm—Shall I bless you?”

The question was spoken aloud, yet it is clearly rhetorical.

Like you Suguru’s followers also knew to stay silent, yet cries of—“bless her!”, “bless her!”, “make her squirt!”, “stretch her out!”—ring from the congregation. Your cheeks burn with mortification as you had momentarily forgot just how many people are watching you get toyed with.

Yet you’d have Suguru broadcast this nationally if it meant you finally got to feel his cock inside you—anything to keep your insides from further liquifying, your pussy melting slowly in a puddle of its own desperation.

Suguru hums in approval.

Seeing you in this pathetic state for him overcomes any displeasure he feels from the hoard of monkeys chattering out of turn

As a result, Suguru shows you his mercy, waiting no time slotting his leaky cock between your cushy thighs. The bulb of his tip catches against your clitoral hood with every thrust of his girth parting your dewy folds. If it weren’t for his steady hold on the braided ties keeping you upright you surely would have collapsed forward from the toe-curling sensation.

The increased heat from the aphrodisiac drug had his length messing up your pretty pussy before it even got inside you. Your head luls back onto his shoulder as he continues fucking your thighs, unable to hold its weight up any longer.

Yet Suguru won’t allow you to tap out so early.

“No slacking, Bunny.”

Is the only warning you got before Suguru bullies the entire length himself into your tight lil cunt. Your pussy already so pliant from the light teasing and drugs gives him free access to reach your womb all in one go.

The screech that strains from your abused vocals causes the tension in the room to awash with a heady lust as Suguru’s followers can no longer hold back from touching those around them.

Disgusting monkeys.

Surguru growls to himself but ultimately his plan is working maybe a little too well. He had ensured the tea was brewed for each in attendance as well, all had been delivered a cup before having left their rooms—yet still, the thought of them being so aroused over you sparks a deeper hatred for them in his soul.

Fucking away what few remaining thoughts, if any, you have in your head, Suguru bucks into you with a faster force. It’s unfair of him, but he cannot control himself from taking out his anger on you. Recklessly Suguru’s hips slam into you in retaliation for being the seductive siren you are, enticing his congregation to disobey him—and most offensive, trapping someone as steadfast as him to covet someone as simple-minded as you.

Sloshing claps echo from your bodies colliding to encompass the vast room almost as loudly as your moans squeak out, begging him to let you cum—to fill you.

Your pussy is desperate for his absolution and it’s shown in the creamy rings of sap you drown his cock with.

You were his.

Suguru would make sure no one here would be able to glance upon you again without remembering how well you slut out only for him.

Pulling the crimson ropes taunt enough to leave marks in your skin Suguru doesn’t realize for how long and just how much force his cock has been plowing into your messy pulsing cunt until he feels the tremors of your violent release rake through your body, snapping him out of his sadistic daydreams of murdering every monkey in the compound as your milky release streams down your soft legs to sully the floor beneath you.

Sweat jewels across his own brow and Suguru knows he has to finish you for good soon, his concentration could only last so long before your soaked cunny would even prove to weaken even a God such as himself.

Suguru’s his hands crawl in serpentine trails across your middle edging lower until they are strumming impatiently over your clit once more, rubbing you near raw with pleasure.

Who knows how many times you’ve already cum around his cock?

Truthfully, Suguru doesn’t think you actually stopped since the first time.

However when he feels you start to limp, fading in his hold his heady voice is in your ear again, lightly nibbling your lobe as he encourages your consciousness to last just a bit longer.

“Show them how well you can take me, Bunny.”

“How you are the only one who won't break before me.”

His firm grip clutching your jaw, Suguru pulls your face back to him.

“Remember, you are the only one suited to be their god’s obedient little plaything—my greedy lil’ cockwhore.”

Your voice barely above a whisper, you croak out to him urgently.

“S-Sugu…k-kissth me!”

Noting how your mouth is lax, drool glistening in its corners—Suguru doesn’t need to see your eyes to know how utterly fucked-out you are in this moment.

Completely lost in ecstasy, you easily forget yourself calling him by a nickname only you are privy to inside his bedroom.

However, thankfully for your sake, no one else had heard it. The crowd of bodies too fervently occupied in their own debased copulation.

Yet still, your insolence of calling him anything other than ‘Geto-sama’ in public earns you a pinch so acute on your clit, that you see white even in the darkness of your blindfold.

Garbled cries spill forth as surges of rapturous electricity shock your every pore and in an instant Suguru’s fingers dive into your mouth. Not wanting you to injure yourself, Suguru permits you to bite down on them in lieu of own tongue as you convulse against his body.

The feral bite to his digits as if you’d rip the very flesh off him is only rivaled by your tight pretty pussy clam clamping down on Suguru’s cock enough to push him over the edge as well. Not even having the chance to pull out, your cunt bends Suguru to her will, forcing him to paint your walls white—your womb is a sponge that greedily absorbs his holy essence, squeezing him for every last drop.

The lock you have on him is so intense that Suguru feels his mask of calm begin to slip and he bites his inner cheek bloody lest a feeble moan slip out of him. Suguru always maintains a semblance of composure or he’d be no better than the orgy of primates beneath him.

Releasing you, slowly you fall forward out of his grasp. Your face meets the cool floor but there's no pain from the impact, at least not enough to overpower the pleasurable spams still buzzing through your core or the dull aching of your neglected nipples now rubbing against the polished hardwood.

The drug isn’t even close to being out of your system yet and you are wiggling your ass for more. Your delayed consciousness lags before whimper in the realization of your hollowed empty core.

“S-Su-Su—”

Your body is near destroyed but you were still horny as fuck.

Suguru is quick to hush you, his hands running along the curves of your ass, massaging them. Gently plucking at your shibari knots, Suguru admires how they branded into your flesh. Continuing, his hands skate across your moist skin before pulling your cheeks apart to gaze at his seed plugging your hole.

He hadn’t meant to cum inside you yet the way your cunt quivers, gaping open as it ejects loads of his cum to splatter onto the floor, he scolds himself for not doing so previously.

“Keep it in.”

Effectively corking your cunt closed, keen loudly as Suguru twists two fingers inside of you.

By now, his followers are fully in their own heat, a pile of withering bodies as pure hedonism had erupted in the auditorium.

No one notices as Suguru’s attendants bring out fresh robes as he hurriedly loosens your knots enough to carry you out, readying himself and you to make a hasty exit. Suguru would surely hurry if the stretch of the monkeys debauched copulation can reached his nostrils.

He'd rather continue your ‘punishment’ in private anyway. Fucking you in front of his congregation and showcasing you as his cocksleeve was not enough of a claim to calm his jealousy.

No, Suguru needed to have claim to you fully.

It’s in that moment Suguru mentally adds one final requirement to your penance—you’d bear him an heir.

A few in fact.

He’d have the perfect excuse to keep you hidden away too—for your protection of course.

You mewl as Suguru gathers up your limp half-conscious form and presses you to himself so possessively it hurts. Yet your mind is still gone, lost in lust as you’re still babbling nonsensical pleas for him to fuck you.

“Hush now, Bunny, my most devout follower, Geto-sama is here to take care of it all. I’ll bless you with my seed and keep you tied to the bed on your back until your belly swells full with my heirs.”

......RESULT: FAILED. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗—𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚒 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚍 ��𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎.

that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation) a/n: this was way longer than i wanted it to be, was originally gonna cut it off before he actually fucked reader but decided to follow through since I owe y'all geto girlies some p in v djsdkjshk (nerd!geto p2 after kinktober i swear!)

comment and reblog! next up either Nanami or Choso—any preference? lmk! (both just need last bits of smut written/final review, they are actually 2 of my fav stories so excited to post them!)

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