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tonycries · 2 days ago

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SCREEN QUEEN! - G.S.

Synopsis. To see a movie or to make one? Four times Geto Suguru absolutely ruined you for the cameras, and the one time outside of them.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! pórnstar! reader, pórnstar!Geto, he is so DOWN BAD, exhibítionism, breéding, Geto’s tattoos, Geto’s PIERCINGS (d, tongue), THREÉSOMES, some Gojo x Reader x Geto, streamer!Gojo, vóyeurísm, Geto gets one taste is PÚSSYDRÚNK, mast. (Geto), oraI (fem + male rec.), spítting, p slapping, some Toji x Reader, PÚRE SMUT, húmping, matíng presses, semi-public, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 10.1k (woah)

A/N. Have a lovely week <3

“Ch-chin up, honey–” Geto’s drunkenly half-lidded stare sticks to you like a greedy second skin. And it makes him snicker, curling his thick fingers around your neck to force your glassy eyes upwards. “Let the camera see that hah- pretty face of yours.”

You mewl, batting your teary lashes up at his towering figure. Pretty glossed lips pressing the most sinful French kisses up his sensitive shaft, “Like this, Sugu?”

And god, that makes him throw his head back with a whimper. It makes him dredge up everything left of his sanity to remember those next few lines of his, praying that those babbling messes of his groans pick up on the microphones.

“Y-yeah, got that right.” he jostles his muscular thighs even more heavily manspread, baring you with a sopping wet swipe of his angry tip against your pout. Poking the bulbous curve of his cool metal piercing just barely- “So you can listen, brat.”

Damn. Geto’s already sure he’d stumbled over his script a few too many times. Already sure he’d forgotten what the next scene was with how he was too dangerously close-

CUT!

Shit.

He had a feeling this would happen.

Because Geto Suguru rarely ever had to take multiple takes whenever he was filming - he was no novice in this business. Far from it, in fact.

Bearing the title of one of the most-watched porn actors in history - and the five-time crowned winner of the most beautiful, as well - the audience loved him, and the directors loved him even more with just how many big, fat cheques he’d rake in easily.

And you?

That gorgeous newbie paired up with him today that was absolutely ruining him.

“Sorry-” Your honeyed tone snaps him out of his syrupy reverie, and the little smile on your face is so innocent compared to just a few seconds ago. “M’still new to this, so I think it was my fault.”

Yeah, ruining him.

“Not at all. S’cute.” Geto’s plastering one of his suave grins all across his mean mouth, and without a second thought, he’s thumbing away that translucent little splatter of precum at the edge of your kiss-bitten lips. Wetting the curvaceous pad of his thumb, “Besides, don’t worry yourself, pretty lady. I don’t think a uh- what was it- clan leader would stutter as much as I did.”

And oh, he wished he could sneak in a few more glimpses of your laugh, music to his ears. Wondering what it’d feel like to have it vibrate around his still rock-hard cock. But alas, swiftly, the director’s clapping a hand down on Geto’s broad shoulder.

“Suguru- my star! What happened back there?” the older man bares him with a toothy grin that said it wouldn’t last there much longer if he made any more mistakes at today’s shooting.

It was the first time in years that he had to have a word of reprimand. And he wasn’t even fucking you today-

“Nothing.”

“Are we sure-”

“Nothing.” Firmer, this time, with a dangerous tinge that no other actor would dare have. His glassy eyes - still foggy from the slide of your tongue, still aching for more of it - fixate sideways on you getting your make-up retouched right beside him. Clearing his throat, “I won’t fumble next time. Promise.”

But shit, only a few seconds before the next take - the high-definition cameras rolling, the heady lighting fixated on the two of you - and he already feels like he’s about to lose it.

“Said you were a rookie, right? You sure about that, screen queen?” he’s leering a slightly-smug grin down at you, the curved edges of his lips twitching at that little industry nickname of yours.

He’d heard it here and there - mainly whenever Gojo was raving about you, but never did he think you would end up being so…so addictive.

Of course, he’s going to brag to his best friend as soon as this is over.

You’re gifting him with a bratty huff, “I’ve only been making videos for a few months, y’know? So I’ve never had to have a blowjob scene with someone so-”

And with a gulp, your syrupy eyes flicker downwards at his achingly hard cock - famed for just how massive Geto was. Already so creamy with a glistening coating of precum drizzling down his thumping veins, standing so thoroughly and thickly upright that it made your drenched thighs squeeze. Yearning to steal another taste of that furiously strawberry-blushed fat tip. “-so big.”

Shit, Geto could feel his fattened cock jolt already.

Hissing, “S-save it for the camera, honey.”

“Okay! Take 2, Act 1 of 1 from Cult Leader Geto.” A ringing voice cuts through your saturated air, and he’s settling back into his poised seated position on that decadently throne-like chair, you on your knees. “ACTION!”

“Messing up such an important mission, hm?” Geto spits, stern voice targeting you at your very dripping core. Sear-like grip making your throat burn, fuming, “Y’know there’s only one way to make up for it, right, honey?”

Your lips wobble oh-so-adorably when he hits them with a splattering smack! smack! smack! of his painfully hard length. Making you mumble, “Wh-what do I hafta-”

And maybe because it was part of the script, maybe because Geto couldn’t last hearing another melodic note of your sweetened voice - he’s shoveling all girthy inches of his swollen cock past your velvety lips.

Unapologetically.

Filthily.

God…it was so easy to forget all the cameras with your tongue.

Pressing the reddened curve of his weepy cockhead to nestle hot and heavy on your tastebuds, your jaw aches with the sheer weight of his hefty shaft throbbing away comfortably on your tongue.

And you swear you can feel big, bulbous tears welling up behind your eyes with how every ounce of blood in Geto’s body comes rushing down into his steaming length. Expanding his rotund head to grow even thicker-

“Shit.” he gasps. “Shit shit shit shit-” Brows scrunching, drooling maw falling slack. Every muscle in his hulking body bows to hunch forwards in his chair, until your tight throat was choking around the thick curve of his swollen tip. One attractively tattooed hand splayed out firmly on the back of your head, “Take it- y-yeah, take it why dontcha? If ya wanna make it up to your leader.”

God, he didn’t know if the cockdrunken way you were nodding was even real - but it made him groan just the same.

Sobbing out a swelteringly hot squelch! of syrupy precum that drips teasingly down the already-messy walls of your mouth. “Heh, maybe ya can even be my s-second-in-command with a mouth like this.”

And he’s giggling out in an almost hysterical way, head throwing backwards when his powerful hips rut up in slow grinds. Back and forth back and forth- that have your now-puffy lips stretching around so widely around his fat cock.

Struggling. Shit, he’s the biggest you’ve ever had.

Geto already knew his agent was going to be on his ass for veering just the slightest degree off the script.

But he didn’t care about that right now.

How could he? Not when the drag of your tongue was swirling around his steamingly hot girth in languid swivels, over and over fighting to trace every one of his prominent veins thumping angrily inside your mouth.

You whine at the saccharine sweet taste of his precum shooting down your throat in wet sputters, “S-Sugu-”

Fuck.

Geto hears himself whimper a pathetic noise as soon as you’re tugging yourself off of his leaky cock, pressing wet peck after peck up the underside of his messy shaft. It’s glossing in glinting lip-prints that he half-wishes he could tattoo. Slipping and sliding to sloppily plant your mouth along the bawling divot at the very end of his rosy pink head.

“Mhm–” he’s drawling, movements as slow as gliding through molasses when one of his strong legs comes to circle around your body. Muscles flexing so tight that if he angled just right he could squeeze that pretty throat of yours. He bites his lip, “Suck on my ah- tip- c’mon, gorgeous. Heheh, yeah gimme a pretty peck, why dontcha?”

With a smug smirk, he’s guiding through trembly digits to thwack! thwack! thwack! his thick hilt in wet splatters across your lips. Only to figure out that he didn’t even have to bother.

Because your sweet mouth was so ravenously reattaching back onto him, starkly raw lips glissading down the bulge of his Prince Albert. Your deft tongue swivels in such a filthy way down the underside of his slit, cheeks hollowing as you suck.

“Spit.”

“S’this-” you hiccup, widened eyes pleading. Spitting out a silvery glob of saliva onto the very edge of his tip, “S’this good, sir?”

Fuck, for a second there he almost forget that every one of your lines are scripted. And he deliriously wonders what if would be like if you called him that for real

“Hmmm, dunno.” His thumb smears across that pool of precum beside your lips - popping it into his mouth tastefully, “Jus’ a bit deeper to make sure. You can do it- c’mon.”

Swallowing up those solidly girthy inches of Geto’s so deliciously. Your nose presses against those drenched tufts of black at his toned pelvis, jittery fingers coming around to massage sultry little circles around his tight, cum-filled balls.

“Heh, think I prefer ya like this-” he’s restless now. Close. Knitting his brows rudely together, abs clenching mouth-wateringly at every wet gyration of his cock hitting the very back of your throat. And he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop, not even if the director yells cut this time. “-all pliant, n’ shutting up that bratty mouth of yours.” Geto arches his spine so flexibly - a specialty of his - all the way enough to whisper in a hoarse pant of feverish condensation against your ear. “All mine.”

Geto can barely even finish his line - or his train of thought, before with a wracing shudder, he’s cumming and cumming harder than he has in his entire life.

Oozing out the wettest wads of his thick cum, so much of his wispy white seed gushing across in dripping glides into the cavern of your mouth. Back and forth with every jackhammer. The money shot smearing all down your pretty chin.

And fuck, just the way he can feel it sloshing around in a tidal wave inside your mouth makes him groan out your name.

Barely even registering the way it’ll have to be cut out in editing later, no- all he can think about is how heavenly you were milking him. Twisting your tongue to drag out his hazy orgasm, to swipe up even more of it from his piercing, you blink up in satisfaction.

Letting it overspill.

“Heh, fuck-” Geto’s tongue was dangerously loose now, mouth curling up into a simpering smile down at you when he’s bursting out in even more velvety ribbons of cum. It drips halfway down your jaw, washing a perfectly milky lipstain on you. Muttering, “Wish I could fuck you- god, I would-”

He’s cutting himself off with a dampened gasp, just as the chilling air on-set hits his hard erection.

In urgent moves, Geto’s pulling out of your silken soft mouth to drag you upwards with the hand tightened around your throat, crashing his lips into your own with sudden need.

Unsteady. Sodden. French kisses.

This wasn’t in the script - and you whine at the cool metal against his cushy mouth. A tongue piercing. Shit, he had one to match his dick.

Swirling it across your own lips, Geto hears you moan in that sweet voice of yours just as you taste him - taste yourself on him - and he’s sucking on your tongue just as you did with his cock. Pooling all the dredges of salty seed on his own, before spitting it back out-

“Tell yer agent-” he murmurs throatily, two fingers roughly wrangling your mouth shut. To make you swallow. His popping ears ignore the calls from the director for the scene to be cut. Finally completed. And Geto licks up the excess remnants of cum down your lips. “-to let me have ya again sometime, gorgeous.”

CULT MEMBER SLUT GETS TAUGHT A LESSON BY HER LEADER!

37 million views 1.5 million likes

Top comments:

satoruxstrongest: holy shit idk who im more jealous of ꒰ ˶• ༝ •��꒱

unicorny: I VOLUNTEER FOR THE NEXT MISSION CULT LEADER GETO

hj.eromytits: guys is it just me or does geto sound EXTRA extra whiny in this video~?

tonykrier: No cuz I totes agree

---

Now, it wasn’t normal for Geto to run home freshly after a shooting and…research his scene partner. To spend what seemed like hours upon hours pouring over every single video and picture you’d blessed his obscene mind with.

You.

An up-and-coming new actress, but already dubbed the nickname of screen queen. Loved by many for that sultry sweet smile of yours and just how gorgeous you were when you were all fucked stupid.

Everybody wanted you.

And Geto - oh, Geto was out of his mind.

Shit, he’s thinking through his saturedly needy thoughts, eyes locked on the two sweat-sheened bodies on-screen. It was an earlier one of you and legendary veteran porn actor, Toji Zenin, and the more he eyed the way your bugging pussy so readily swallowed each of his greedily girthy inches - the more he was fucking jealous his agent only booked a simple blowjob scene. Peering at the title-

DILF-NEXT-DOOR GIVES SCREEN QUEEN AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT.

That should be him.

The wet schwf! of clothes upon skin emanate throughout his penthouse bedroom when Geto unthinkingly drags the soft mountains of his palm down his throbbingly hard erection. Eyeing at how Toji was smearing your sopping pussy lips open, giving Geto the perfect view-

Shit, that should be him.

Holding back a low moan, “Fuck-” he scrambles to hit the camera icon on his trembling phone, all but ripping his pants down to set free his ravaging cock. “God- m’so fuckin’ hard-”

He doesn’t even know who he’s talking to right about now - the audience, or you.

But all he can think about right now are those sparking stars behind his lids as soon as he runs the solid curve of his thumb along the bump of his swollen head. Still not fully hard, Geto squeezes his fat hilt just the way he remembers you did earlier today.

“S’all because of y-you, y’know?” he’s gritting through clenched teeth, batting those long dark lashes of his right up at the camera. “Why’d you hafta look at nhgh- m-me that way.”

God, his digits were only half as soft as yours were. And he keens at the rough drag of his fingerprints down the sensitive spots at every ride and curve. Melty mind stumbling through every mindless half-thrust into his fist.

Over and over.

God, he felt like a hormonal teenager all over again.

He’s panting - gasping. Every rutting fuck up into his hand leaving his heavy balls clenching painfully, teeth clamping.

Geto’s never been this needy - this desperate to try and graspingly remember what your moans had sounded like through his phone speaker not too long ago. It’s all he can do to sink his sharp canines down onto his fist, desperately holding back whimpers upon whimpers that threaten to spill out into the open.

Yet, they do, anyway.

“M-make me so fuckin’ horny, honey-” he’s swiping at the lazy trickle of drool down the edges of his drunkenly upturned grin. Puffing away the long, inky hair curtaining his eyes to splay out across the bed. “Such a perfect body ya have- such a perfect pussy. Wish I could fuck it.”

Because that delicious arch in your back was practically burned into Geto’s mind, how your slutty cunt was slobbering down gloss after gloss of your sweet, sweet juices down Toji’s fat cock. He’d been massive - rivaling Geto, honestly - and he couldn’t help but muse whether you’d take him that well, too.

Would you cry out and beg for more?

Would you bat your lashes and tell him to slow down- only to huff and puff in that naughty way of yours when he does?

You were…you were so pretty. And all he ever wanted to do was wreck that equally pretty pussy of yours, and ruin your makeup, and you.

You you you you-

Geto’s wrist aches down his tall shaft, stuttering up and down, he flicks his thumb wetly underneath his sensitive slit. Neatly grazing his manicured fingernail underneath the glazed bump, “I’d ruin ya, y’know?” Geto chokes out, and he doesn’t even have to fake the purring moan in his tone. The way his voice lilts embarrassingly higher in volume and pitch, gliding all the way up to nudge in wet peppered kisses across his chilling piercing. “Would make ya shut up on m’cock- hngh- until ya can feel my piercing branding into ya. Ruin everyone else f-for ya.”

God, the camera was so shaky right about now - and he half-wonders whether he wants to post this. Nothing like the usual professional set-up you’d usually see on Geto’s promotional tweets.

And then shit, just the thought of you actually seeing this video has him almost dropping his phone onto the dampened silken sheets below. His overly saturated mind liked to think that you’d like it, that you might even slip your own soft hand down into your flimsy excuse of panties.

“Fuck- fuck.” Geto bounces his head back onto the plush pillows, thighs shuddering even further open, catching every pearlescent bead of precum being smeared down his thickening length. Filthy. So fucking filthy. Making him arch- “Look what you do- look how you’ve got me- fuck-”

He was practically humping up like an animal now. Out of control. Each moan breaking into a whine in a way that Geto can’t stop even if he wanted to.

And the more he thought about you the more-

“Oh h-honey-” One of Geto’s thumb trails their way down to press down at the very middle of the twitchy curve of his balls. Hard. Hiccuping back a mewl of your name, he’s nodding like he doesn’t even realize. “M’gonna cum hah- m’gonna cum, okay? You’ll hafta take it all t-take it hngh-”

And it’s just a few more merely sloppy grinds before Geto’s spurting out in thick streams of cum. So much of it.

He’s fucking his fist like he wishes it was you. It’s making such a mess down his greedy fingers, coating down to his wrist in a gleaming sheen of creamy white. Easier to make him slip up, up, up, and down his swollen, red shaft trying to dredge up something delicious from the very ends of his weepy divot.

He lets his phone drop, thick thighs straddling upon each side of the screen to jerk his achy cock off like your pretty face was just underneath him. Furious. Fast. A low ah! ah! ah! rasping through each breath.

God, his fingers weaken around his cock. Moving as if on auto-pilot when he circles his trickling wet fingers around his own rosy pink nipples - all glistening down his tattoos as if they’d been laminated, they made for the perfect wet dream - then all the way up to suck on them. Cleaning. Tasting himself.

Fuck, wishing it was your hand.

Wishing you were here.

All Geto could think about is if you were here right now, then he’d swipe his blushing tip down your lips, instead - reel you into a dripping wet kiss just like before. He grunted at just how badly he wanted to taste on your candied tongue again-

Still so sensitive from the shoot with you before, Geto’s breathing out in heaves, pants. Tears prickling at the very ends of his bleary eyes, he bites down furiously on his coral pink lips, trying for the fucking life of him to not cum in blanks right now.

He does, actually.

Again. And again and again- spazzing cockhead jerking out a few wispy wet ribbons of his seed, before giving way into nothing. And if you listened closely to the crackling audio, you could almost hear Geto whimper.

Yet, he doesn’t even notice until his thumb swipes shakily onto that red end button on the video.

Doesn’t even register until he’s pulling up his infamously lewd Twitter account, the voice of his agent ringing in his pounding ears from today on something about “promo for your upcoming video” with every few hasty clicks on-screen.

Geto posts.

And he doesn’t even glance a second time at the screen before darting back into his browser history, searching ravenously for any more morsel of you he could dig up.

Because Geto Suguru might just be addicted.

@GetoTheCursed: For @ScreenQueen

2.6 million views 364k likes

Top replies:

moresenpaimore: holy shit the lighting? the shakiness? the whimpers? ITS ALMOST LIKE HE POSTED JUST AS HE CAME DADDY YOURE SPOILING US!!1!111!!

tjzenin: Good taste, kid. - Toji x.

ScreenQueen: <3

---

“Y’look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” Gojo’s angling your head just enough for the blinking camera to drink in that milky trail of slick trickling down the corners of your puffed-up pussy lips. Musing at how it probably couldn’t capture half as how pretty you are with his massive cock bullied snugly into your strugglingly bulging cunt. “Isn’t that right, Suguru?”

“Heh-” The other man only shifts his legs to manspread more comfortably on Gojo’s plush mattress, leaning back on two elbows. “Don’t I know.”

hj.eromytits: ahhh~ a suguru and satoru stream my life is complete~ screen queen is so sexy too~

444stayze: WE NEED MORE COLLABS LIKE THIS SATORU PLEASE

chocho: she’s so…beautiful

*chocho donated 690 chestnuts*

If Geto Suguru was the king of videos, then Gojo Satoru was the king of streaming. Wracking thousands upon hundred thousands - perhaps close to millions - that watched him strip down and bare the winking camera with his cocky, girthing inches. And today, he just-so-happened to have a special guest.

Two, actually, after hearing about your latest film with each other.

His long-time best friend, and the rookie actress he’d been just as obsessed with lately. And the tons of viewers right now were loving this combination.

Your greedy hips squirm ravenously, jostling Gojo’s cock to swirl in syrupy, circular swivels inside your gooey walls. Yet, you couldn’t do anything with the thick, black blindfold wrapped around your two wrists - a staple of his persona. “G-gojo-”

Smack!

All five of his splayed-out fingers come down harshly in a swat against the curve of your ass, and Geto can’t help but gulp heavily at the sinful way it makes your flesh jiggle.

Gojo’s tangling a vice-like grip into your scalp - eyes wide, wild, where he’s leering down at you. “Now now, you’re s’pposed to look at hah- me.” he whines. Shit- when had you even turned to look at Geto. “And what was it I told ya to call me?”

“T-To-”

Smack!

“Louder.”

“Toru!” you squeal, feeling his leaky tip brush up in a wet nudge against your bulbous g-spot. Expanding even girthier to hit at that little bullseye over and over-

“Such a s-slutty voice ya got on ya.” His sharp hipbones mashing against tender skin, stifling balls stinging your ass, juddering knees bouncing even faster. It was so fucking addictive sheathing himself inside the tight channel of your cunt. So hot and cozy inside that Gojo has to force himself to rip his line of sight onto Geto just behind you, “Does sh-she always sound so sweet, Suguru?”

And Gojo’s not surprised - not even the tiniest bit surprised - to find that his best friend already has his silken button-up ripped open, ringed fingers stuffed into his too-tight pants.

Addictive…you were so addictive.

And he’s almost jealous that he’d introduced you to him on this stream.

Tearing away his clinking belt to knead over his rock-hard erection, drawling the very rounded edges of his fingers down his cupped balls. Squeezing. Hard. Geto looks so utterly like he has to force himself to breathe out something even slightly coherent, “Hmmm, hard to say with the way she was on her knees last time- heheh-”

“Such a dog ya are-” Gojo’s rolling his watery eyes, before pecking a wet glissade of his lips down onto yours. The woosh of donations flood the chat as soon as Geto’s letting out a roughened growl, “Dontcha ngh- a-agree, sweetheart? So mean, hm? The chat certainly seems ta think s-so.”

“Mhm–” you’re crying out - difficult, with the way he was sunken in so solidly inside of you. At Gojo’s sheer mercy.

Mercy that was slowly dwindling away with each and every slobbering fuck up into your dripping cunt, and you can’t help but let your jaw drop into a needy oh when his ragged thrusts get faster. More desperate.

Peppering damp pecks along Gojo’s innocently pink lips, “S-so mean, Sugu.”

“Ya hear that?” Gojo swipes his thumbs across your sloppy folds to bear you even further into the camera, and with Geto’s lolling gaze he could just peek the way your sodden hole was gaping widely. How his peaking veins massage your entrance through and forth- “Our girl says you’re a meanie, Sugu~”

candybah: GETO LOOKS MADDD

k-en.j: she looks so cockdrunk already honestly idk who i want to be here

pumk1nhe1d: Love how Satoru winds him up. Wonder if her poor cunt can take both??

And Geto knew that your voice was absolutely dripping with teasing want, he knew that it meant nothing more than a simple line to get him worked up. But the way Gojo’s jittery arms were engulfing you to stick to him so closely, his knowing smirk flashing Geto’s way had him huffing out a pointed few profanities.

“Fuck that.” he’s spitting getting up onto two unsteady feet to shuffle even closer to where your bodies were rocking the decadent bed violently. Tying back his dark tresses urgently - and oh shit, that’s when you know he’s serious. And one of Geto’s fingers smack! away Gojo’s, searing his own possessive grip onto the blindfold to haul you against his washboard abs. “Open.”

Fuck, it’s just about all that you can do.

Slopping out your tongue to present your glistening tastebuds - right on par for Geto to be splattering a thick wad of saliva.

Letting the translucent slick sift across your mouth, and with years in the game, Geto Suguru already had perfect aim. He could’ve already made an easy, clean work of spitting in your mouth.

But, no, he’s speckling wet little messes around your lips on purpose. Swiping it away with the very back of his slender fingers, “Now, would you care to repeat- that?”

Every truncated drag of his moans is punctuated by a ragged rut of Geto’s hips against the globes of your ass. The remainder of his free hands being sure to press your arched body even further backwards into him.

You feel him throb against your heated skin, his fat girth jostling to make you hump down on everything from the very globular edges of his tip all the way down to where his fat balls were kissing up into you stickily. Gushing out steaming hot wave after wave of precum that formed delicate strings to snap!

Smack!

“C’mon now, sweetheart~” Gojo’s slow tut makes you squeal. “S’not nice to leave someone hah- hanging.”

Batting your teary lashes up at Geto, you’re struggling through your relentless restraints to try and crane up into a kiss. And Geto - ever the bully - makes you work for it, barely moving. “M’m-sorry-”

“That’s not what I asked-” his hot breath puffs up dangerously to fan your ear. Cool rings on his digits burning a blazing pathway up to your neglectedly hardened nipples, making you keen out such whiny sounds when he pinches. “Tell me what you said.”

“S-said-” you’re sobbing out. The double stimulation of Gojo’s ravaged cockheadbumping up into your spongy cervix, and the way that Geto’s thumbs were swirling over in pressurized circles over your tits too much. “-said you were m-mean hngh- didn’t mean i-it ah fuck-”

“Are you sure?”

“You really are s-such a hngh- bully, Suguru.”

“Tch, shut up-” And Geto would never admit the way that he was humping you like such a dog. Panting - heaving, practically - with every sodden grind, his teeth tug harshly on your precious ear lobe. “-at least I’m gonna be the one t-to make her cum.”

Gojo’s rolling his eyes, pecking a sudden crash into the very same spot of your g-spot. “No I will.”

“As if, ya had to borrow my camera t-today jus’ to capture how gorgeous she is.”

Both Gojo and Geto’s lips mesh into yours now, tongues bumping into each other, swirling across yours so lewdly. Sucking and nibbling along any inch of yourself that you would give them. Anything that they could take.

He’s bucking his hips sloppily, drawing wet gashes between your pre-soaked lips, and nudging against where Gojo was buried so deep. Too much.

Murmuring into your lips, Geto giggles - giggles every-so-drunkenly in a way that made the stream chat flood. “Heh, if ya really mean it then cum f’me, honey.”

Fuck- then, you do.

It’s hitting both you and Gojo like a sudden semi-truck.

Yelping out a saturated mixture of what sounded like both their names before your gushy walls squeeze tightly. So fucking cozy that Gojo has to stuff one of his long fingers into your quivering hole just to scissor your entrance open, to fuck you through your high.

His fat girth edging you through peak after peak of bliss, your toes curl, mouth still latched firmly with Geto’s. Spazzing cock bawling out a few silvery strings of white down your back - just barely. “My good girl- good- hah- fuckin’ girl.”

“Awww. Look, Suguru-” The other man titters, bringing up his free hand to swipe across your now freshly wet cheeks. “Ya really are a meanie, huh? You made her cry.”

Geto only rolls his dark eyes, that particular remark making him take it out on you - because oh, he might not be fucking you tonight, but it was so utterly fun to rip out those whiny syllables from your pretty mouth. He’s tugging on your nipple with one hand, the other dipping slowly to swat! at your plump clit. “Well, I also made her cum.”

“Hah? No way, that was me-”

“I’ll beat you up right here, right now, Satoru.”

#1 RANK satoruxstrongest: got two special guests! tonight is going to be fun ww `⎚⩊⎚´ -✧

51 million views 4.8 million likes

Top donors:

unicorny: WOAH when Geto SPIT?? And when they were arguing?? My apologies, sir, I did not know you were about that life (she’s so lucky me next)

honey.bunney: LITERALLY MY WET DREAM OH MY GOD BI PANIC I LOVE THEM

king0fcurses: lmfao weak. Invite me on the next stream and i’d show her a better time.

---

God, times like this, you almost hated your profession.

Because yes, despite everything, the pay you received was staggering - but absolutely no amount of money was enough to compensate for the complete and utter asshole that was Naoya Zenin.

And especially not filming with him.

A nepo baby that had climbed his way through the ranks with the help of his family name; most of his audience came to watch him fail utterly pathetically at trying to boss his co-stars around and ultimately end up whining with just the slightest little squeeze of your cunt.

To watch him be broken and sobbing for mercy - exactly the way you preferred him.

Anything but this-

“-c’mon- just one night, baby-” Naoya’s purring voice sleazes across your ears, and you ignore him to clutch your thin robe even tighter around your body. Thankful that the filming and clean-up was finally over. “Promise I’ll have you seeing stars.”

When he didn’t even have you seeing your climax? You want to ask, but unfortunately hold back - for your agent’s reputation, if anything else.

Plastering on an almost-painful faux smile, “I think we spent more than enough time together on-set.”

With that, you shift off the bed to weave determinedly through the bustling camera staff and the director calling out for the editing crew - you didn’t even know where you were going, at this point.

But Naoya Zenin was persistent, if not anything else.

Catching up hurriedly, his fingers tap down the side of your shoulder, gliding over the peaking strap of that pretty pink bra you’d worn just for the shoot today - something special your very own viewers had picked out.

You stand stock-still in the middle of the room when he murmurs into your ear, “Playin’ hard to get isn’t cute, y’know. Just give in-”

SWAT!

“Excuse me-” You’re grinning through the slight sting at the back of your hand - because oh, it was impossible not to smile at the utter look of shock on Naoya’s sharp features the very instant his hand had been smacked away mercilessly. Fuming. Undeterred, your eyes shift down warningly between his legs, “-before I make sure you can never work in this industry again.”

“W-wait-”

But who would bother to wait before making their escape? Not even looking - not even caring - about where you make your sudden strides to.

SLAM!

The door closes. Hard.

And you breathe out a shuddering sigh of relief when the cacophony of noise from outside bleeds away into nothingness, like a stifling little cocoon inside.

Fuck- where had your feet even taken you?

It takes a few blinking seconds at the rows upon rows of skimpy lingerie and outfits for you to realize that you’d shut yourself in the costume room just outside of your current set. And a few more seconds to realize that you weren’t alone-

“Oh!” you gasp. And you don’t even know whether to look - where to not look at the absolute wet dream in front of you.

Geto Suguru was standing unabashedly in the middle of the room, long hair splayed out across his back - and you could count every swirling tattoo of his. Because he was painfully shirtless. Showing off the sculpted ridges and curves of his muscles that flexed a just a little tighter whenever your greedy gaze was dancing down his bulging biceps, his inked hips, his-

“Cat got yer pretty tongue, honey?”

“Wh-wha-” you sputter. Fingers scrambling upwards to cover your eyes - before realizing how futile that is with how you’ve seen everything already. “Cat got your ability to change in the changing stalls instead of where everyone can see, Geto?”

He cocks his smug head, grinning down at you. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re complaining, though?”

“You’re too much.”

Throwing that thin cotton t-shirt grasped within his digits somewhere off to the side - perhaps to toy with your sanity even more. He crosses his thick forearms, showing off every bumpy vein of his. “Besides- I was here first- helping out ol’ Nanami with a costume. The more important question should be why the Screen Queen of all people is barging in here?” Lips quirking attractively upwards, “Wanted to see me shirtless again so badly, hm?”

You did.

“You wish.”

You’re rolling your eyes, and you never knew how close someone could get to you just within that split-second. Because you’re already feeling the feverish rush of his ragged breath against your features, skin burning mere inches from yours.

Close.

With a gulp, you’re careening back against the velvety walls. “More like wanted to run away from Naoya Zenin and his dates so badly.”

So close.

“Ah.” Geto’s nodding with understanding. Running a hand through his hair, he easily slips that tiny black tie into his mouth. Moving to bunch up his strands into a ponytail, “Need me to beat him-”

You cut him off, “No no no-” Frantically waving your hands about - partially because you really didn’t want him to leave right now. “I took care of it, anyway.”

“That’s my girl.”

And something about the honeyed way he hummed those words made your stomach lurch, it had you panting out a needy breath into the almost non-existent space between you two. One of his palms splay out on the wall beside your head, caging you in. Geto’s greedy gaze daring for a mere split-second to the CCTV camera by the far corner of the room - eh, Ichiji is probably on break, anyway. “Then I guess, my next question is…”

God, he’s so mean.

So teasing.

Reaching up to trail down the very end of his pointer finger in-between the seam of your robes - doing practically nothing to hide the way that Geto licks his lips at every sliver of your skin revealed.

Down between the valley of your breasts, down to your navel.

Down, down, down.

“-did he take care of you?”

You’re stammering your head into a half-delirious shake, “H-he didn’t make me-”

Geto makes an almost primal snarl at the very back of his throat, darkened eyes widening. He sounds so out-of-breath already. “Make you what?”

“-didn’t make me cum!”

And oh, those words changed everything.

“Then I guess I better make up for my colleague’s incompetence, right?”

Because not only did they have Geto Suguru’s sanity snapping, it had your poor, drenched panties as well - stumbling around your ankles in a useless pile of fabric with only one thorough pull of his deftly curled digits.

“So flimsy.” he’s raising one dark brow, sharp canines glinting against the dim lighting in amusement. “Yet it still wasn’t broken- Goes ta show what a hah- great time ya had with Naoya, huh?”

“Please- D-don’t tease-”

What did you even mean to say- don’t tease you? he wonders. As if he ever could. Half-drunkenly, half-deliriously because Geto couldn’t get fucking enough of anything but the way that your pretty pussy was winking up at him with a glistening sheen. So puckered and ready for him that he wanted to give her a little kiss.

A French kiss.

“Shhh- better keep ‘er quiet f’me, gorgeous-” he’s chuckling, hurried now that his knees clatter to the floor with a loud bang! Maybe it hurt, maybe it didn’t- Geto didn’t fucking care. “Because m’not going easy on you.”

And with a raw drag of his heaving inhales, he’s drinking in your mouthwatering essence. Greedy.

Glissading up the very slit between your puffy pussy lips, he’s curling his thumb meanly into your sloppy hole. Circling around in practiced, purposeful little swipes.

“G-Geto–” he’s quietly admiring the way it rolls off of your tongue, and fuck he’s never been one to be cocky over his own name but right now it was so fucking impossible not to be. Batting long, dark lashes from between your trembly thighs, “So mean, y’know that?”

Oh, you little minx. Geto’s brain flashes back to the stream with his best friend-

And he can’t help the sultry rasp of your name at the very back of his throat, the way his ringed fingers come branding down in such a dangerous swat! right against the plump edge of your clit- barely grazing your sensitively beading peak.

A warning.

“What was that?” he spits. Followed by a literal wad of his syrupy saliva right onto the slope of your hole watching the splatters speckle across your drooling cunt. It felt so possessive. “If I’m so mean, then you should find it- heh, sooo fucking easy to stay quiet, hm?” Wild eyes locked with yours - you’ve never seen this look anywhere in Geto’s films. Anywhere. “Wouldn’t wanna be caught with the big- bad- meanie-”

Shit, it was something to tease him - something to get on your longtime idol’s nerves. But you’d never have expected the effect that it would have.

Because Geto was ravenous when his lips are placing a messy kiss onto your own - your other ones. Meshing a sultry glide of his tongue between your swollen folds, his tongue piercing so cold against your tight ring of muscle.

He wasn’t easing you in.

He wasn’t showing you any mercy or regret when Geto stuffs his face as deeply into the heaven between your legs as he could go. And it almost hurts him when his nose smushes harshly into your sensitive nub, when his jaw aches with just how much farther he couldn’t sink into your pretty pussy.

Groaning, one of Geto’s splayed-out palms wrangles your ever-weakening legs onto his broad shoulders, the other toying taunting circles sailing all over your clit. Because he wanted more more more-

“Ngh- fuck!” Your unsteady fingers dangle their way through his silken strands - as soft to the touch as they looked. And you tug when you feel the silvery cold metal dart against your melty walls - not that it moved him even an inch. “Fuck that feels so good-”

“I know-” he’s smirking up at you. “N’ it sounds like e-everyone out there s’gonna know, too- heh. I don’t mind.”

God, that’s when it hits you to lower the volume of your honeyed moans. Biting down on the knuckles of your free hand, you level him with a glare.

“L-look who’s talking-”

Geto only chuckles through the sopping wet squelches he’s reeling out from your cunt. Fingers now dripping downwards with a final pinch to your clit and onto your hole. “S’not my fault your p-pretty pussy’s so talkative, honey.”

“G-Geto-”

“Shhh, lemme hear her talk. Please?”

You gasp when you feel him plowing a trail of his thick digits into your already snugly-filled channel. Such a tight fit with both Geto’s rummaging fingers and his toasty tongue slurping up every bead of your juices.

They’re swirling around you with reckless abandon, no longer the expert methods and tricks you were used to. No, Geto was pumping his fingers into you solely because he was addicted to the feeling.

To the loud slurps and squelches resounding from down below with his miniscule movements.

“Heheh, yeahhh- so fucking mouthy she is. Might as well have s-someone overhear her.” He grunts, feeling your gummy walls clamp down on him so vice-like. And it takes him every shred of willpower to finally part his sinful way with your cunt, to drag his lips in a final kiss down your wet folds. “Hold on- got an idea.”

Fuck.

An idea from Geto Suguru would never bode well for your sanity.

And you were completely right in assuming so, because in a split-second, he’s reaching down to his pants pocket - pulling out a glinting silver lip ring. One that finds itself placed so prettily near the very edge of Geto’s rawly rubbed pink lips.

One that finds itself wrapped oh-so-deliciously around your clit. Sucking.

More.

“Heh, you’re the first one to hah- see me with this new lip ring- congrats-”

“L-lucky me-” you manage to choke out. Hips rutting up and down up and down from the wall, dragging your slobbering cunt all down to make-out with his gorgeous features - and Geto doesn’t look like he’s anywhere but heaven. “It feels- so so- mmpf-”

Without warning, his thorough digits find themselves rudely shoved between your jaw-dropped mouth. Metal rings cold. Thick. Pressing down at the back of your tongue-

“Heheh- what did I say-” he’s dragging his mouth backwards to tug on your weepy clit. Other set of fingers picking apart your sweetest spots inside, ruthless cadence picking up. “Quiet, honey- be quiet f’me like my good girl why- ah- why dontcha?”

Truthfully, Geto himself is finding it so fucking difficult to concentrate.

He’s so sloppy. So loud.

He feels like he could combust with every shuddering gush of your sweet, sweet juices down the lover half of his face. So much of it that it’s dripping down into a lewd puddle onto the floor.

And he’s forced to swivel his free hand punishingly into your mouth to stop himself from traveling it down to his pants and creaming all over it like some loser. God- no- he had to make you cum. And fast. Before he loses it.

“C’mon, my pretty lady-” Geto bursts out in feverish hot pants breathed into your cunt, mouth rearing everywhere. And the stark contrast between his cool lip ring and his mouth made you shiver down your spine in white-hot pleasure. Hot and cold hot and cold- “Can ya hear that?”

Ah, damn. Just your luck - both your ears perk up at the distance resounding of footsteps. Close.

You tug on his long strands. Through muffled syllables, “G-geto–”

Closer.

“S’alright s’alright-” he’s snickering, sounding for all the world as relaxed as ever like he wasn’t two seconds away from being caught with a fellow actress in one of the most scandalous positions for even a porn company. “-jus’ cum f’me. Cum f’me, honey.”

Your cunt was so sensitive. You’re whimpering through his fingers once Geto presses in deeply onto that magical spot. Stars bursting behind your eyes- “M’gonna cum, Geto- so close. M’gonna- m’gonna-”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence.

Because with only a few bustling thrusts of his digits into that very same bullseye, you’re cumming all over Geto’s pretty face. Splattering his chiseled chin in a sheeny gloss of you, so filthy.

And he lets you - oh, he lets you. Why wouldn’t he?

Not when this is all that he’s been dreaming of ever since he had you that one time on set, not when you tasted so sweet spurting your juices down his tongue. Kittenish kisses lapping up every wet gash of slick, his fingers strain with how furiously he’s fucking you through your high.

“Oh- oh, honey— ” The only mantra that Geto can babble out pussydrunkenly, quirking up his hips to grind his rock-hard erection against your thigh. God, he felt like he could cum in his pants right now. “Tha’s right- use me- use me.”

Forcing his jittery fingers down to your hips in a rough restraint, he’s dragging your drooling cunt up and down up and down up and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Hey- ya in here?”

Click! In an instant, Geto’s long arm span is reached over to lock the door.

And god, Naoya’s voice was grating enough that he almost lost his rock-hard erection - if it hadn’t been for that sweetly startled mewl ripping from your throat, that is.

You scoff, fully ready to give him a piece of your - albeit syrupy, orgasmically hazed - mind to the man outside. But with a sneaky finger signaling you to be quiet, he stands back up to his hulking stature. Growling out a biting, “Only one in here’s me, fuck off.”

Only then comes the sputtering, “Wh-why I’d never-”

“Unless ya want your lil’ idol Toji to hear about how you’ve been nothing but a prick to his favorite actress.”

It’s barely even a second later when you hear those footsteps walking urgently away, and not even two when Geto’s hot breath puffs up against your ear. Words slurring and stumbling over one another, gliding his tongue across his lower lip to snatch up every ounce of you. “Don’t you worry-” Before sucking on the very same fingers that were buried inside you, “M’gonna ruin him.”

And that’s all it takes for him to remember something else you’d said about that very man just earlier. Something about a date…as if.

“Kiss me- kiss me kiss me please-” Geto’s mouth hovers over yours. Gingerly placing peck after peck- “Fuck- s-suck-” Not even having to finish his sentence with how your heated lips wrapped around his icy lip ring, dripping with your slick. “N’ I was th-thinking- would ya- only if you’d like- wanna make a movie-”

“Yes.”

Hah, Geto grins. Take that, Satoru.

LOCATION: CCTV room, Jujutsu X company building.

Employee count - 1

“Fuck- fuck-” Ichiji’s struggling to push up his condensation-fogged glasses with one of his slippery hands. Fingers trembling on the keyboard when he’s rewinding the camera footage in the costume room by just a few more seconds. “Oh god- m’gonna get f-fired-”

Again.

And again.

And again and-

“Shit-” he’s shuddering out, head woozy at the sheer overstimulation. Belt clattering against the plastic of his chair for about the nth time this hour. “-she really is a screen queen.”

---

Geto Suguru planned everything meticulously - till every detail was checked off on his seasoned mental list of making the perfect homemade…movie.

Not exactly something that he’d tried out personally before but- but who better to do it than with you? And he swears with every bit of insincere honesty inside of him that this was totally not because he’d been yearning to feel you cumming all over his cock for months now.

Yeah…totally not.

So he planned.

And he had everything - the heady candle-lit bedroom, the fresh silken sheets, the soft music playing from a speaker somewhere across the room. The only undecided thing being the name of your little tryst. Prowling over to you sat on the bed - all it takes is a simple shove to spread you out the way he’s been dreaming of. Humming, “You ready?”

Well, everything except-

“G-Geto, how are we gonna make a movie with no camera-”

Shit, that was the last thing on Geto’s mind right now - just about the furthest thing, despite being the very epicenter of his entire career.

Everything he needed.

But no fucking camera.

Oh.

“Shit.” he’s chuckling - somewhat gingerly, somewhat pussydrunkenly with just a glimpse of you splayed out like this on his plush bed. In another one of you gauzy lingerie sets, leaving barely anything for his overdriven imagination to obsess over. He’s scratching behind his neck, “We can st-”

“No-” And Geto looks just as shocked as you feel right now, skin heating up with embarrassment at your hasty answer.

But oh, that only makes him take it in stride - makes him slide his hand underneath his velvety boxers to knead greedily at his thumping hot erection. Grinning, “The Screen Queen doesn’t want to be on screen? How shocking.”

But it wasn’t.

God, because he could already see that darkening splotch at your silk drenched panties. The way your lower lip wobbled with so much want - he’d already watched enough of your videos to recognize it by now.

He’s nosing down your neck, drinking in each of your little shivers. “How do you want me?”

And all you can say is- “I just want you-”

Swat!

The rounded tips of Gojo’s fingers find themselves placing a pretty peck right on your pulsating clit, sending obscene shockwaves bowing your spine. Right into his arms, “You a-always say the sweetest things, honey.”

You hiss at the cool clash of his proud Prince Albert - and the way that one of Geto’s dangling silver necklaces knock into your chin softly.

And he’s groaning, just throwing his head back at the flurry of stars bursting behind his eyes. Hands gripping onto the edges of his sheets, Geto slides his hips in a slow back and forth against your own. Sandwiching the circular girth of his cock between your sodden folds, they make such a pretty scene.

“Tell me, pretty baby–” His fingers smear at the wet drizzles seeping from either side of your slit. “-do ya get this wet for the c-camera too or s’it jus’ for me?” But you’re only spewing out a few nods and syrupy yeses, gushing all around him that he can’t help but wonder what it would like bursting with him inside-

He doesn’t have to bother waiting long.

Now, usually Geto liked to take his time - would prefer to see you crying and breaking while you beg for his cock more than anything else.

But shit, right now he thinks that a second longer he isn’t buried inside your cunt might make him die-

“C’mon c’mon c’mon-” he’s hissing at the elastic stretch of that first ring of muscle. Easing his way in to bulge your sloppy entrance all full with just the very ends of his bulbous tip. “Take it- please, please take it-”

Geto can’t keep the slight tremble out of his tone even if he wanted to - not with the way your gooey cunt was molding around his shape to suck up every inch of him. And god, was there so much of him. It’s like it was never-ending.

“Shit-” your nails reel red, red marks down the milky plane of his deltoids. “I-I can feel you in my hngh- lungs, Geto-”

He chuckles - all the way into your lungs and he’s not even halfway in, yet? Hell, fuck halfway in, he’d just managed to smear past your swollen pussy lips to rut his fat head inside. Hissing at the clench of your walls around his sensitive slit.

“Suguru-” he gasps, eyes still wrenched down on the way your cunt was greedily gobbling him up. “P-please if you can call that hah- fuckass ‘Satoru’, then call me Suguru, please-”

It’s all that has to come out of your mouth - a sweet, syrupy “Sugu-”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You feel yourself gulping down every one of his solid inches, a sheer circumference that you never even thought possible- the friction between your gummy walls and his furiously jackhammering cock having you squeal-

Smack!

Finally fully inside you, your pussy lips kiss his thickened hilt like long lost lovers, and his heavy balls shift against your ass.

“Don’t- don’t run-” Geto’s sputtering out a slightly broken plea, pure desperation wafting off of him like a heady perfume. It was contagious. And his rough fingers grip tightly around your waist, jousting up the dampening blankets all around your body when he pulls and pulls and pulls- “Fuck, where’d you think you’re going, huh, honey?”

His tone was just dripping with something dark, something you can only sputter and drool to match when every nook and spongy cranny inside is being filled up with Geto’s fat cock.

And it twitches inside you happily - if heaven was real then it felt like this, Geto muses already thoroughly pussydrunk.

“M’m-not running away-” you’re pouting a slick-glossed pout up at him. One that he can’t help but crane his neck down in an instant to kiss away. “You’re just s-so big- bigger than on camera-”

Fuck.

You would’ve shut your babbling mouth sooner if you’d known what would happen.

Because the rotund edges of Geto’s cockhead only swells up wider, squirting out even thicker wads of his steamingly hot precum with every mindless, saturated grind. Ones just to fit in- more and more, even after he’s finding himself kissing a wet glide down the ends of your cervix. Making sure to brand that edge of his piercing onto every gooey wall.

“God- y’really know how to drive me c-crazy-” Geto’s dark hair curtains either side of your head, and you almost don’t notice the way he swipes up two hands underneath your thighs to press you into a mean mating press. Letting you latch on limply while he leaves to swat at one of your hands cupping your pussy, “N’ move that hand- fuck- m’gonna fuck that outta ya.”

And he does.

The mattress creaks in loud protests when he’s pummeling you with stupidly rude clashes of his weepy tip onto the edges of your g-spot - already expertly mapped out by him now - he’s feeling the sloshy mixture recoil with each thrust. So much of it. “Such a pretty pussy- such p-pretty moans, makes me wanna keep it t’myself-”

God, he’s wanted you for what seems like forever - and he was going to take it.

Panting hotly against your mouth, heavals. Drunk on your messy kisses and the way your pussy lips were bulging with the struggle to take him - but still milking him so needily. “Tie up my h-hair, honey, wanna see that pretty face of yours proper.”

All you can do is blink back the wall of tears that’d made its home in your eyes, trembly fingers taking ahold of Geto’s thin, black hair tie.

But you didn’t expect it to be so difficult.

Because any moment you were even slightly close to bunching up enough of his locks, he’s planting a thorough trail of kisses down your cervix. Before ending with the very showstopper - at your g-spot.

And one look up into Geto’s half-lidded eyes told you one thing…he was doing this on purpose.

Your legs knock-knee in an almost engulfing way around his heavily swallowing throat, muttering out in a tone that you probably thought was threatening - but that Geto found so cute. “I’m onto you, sir-”

Fuck.

Fuck, maybe you were threatening.

He didn’t expect that evil little nickname to slip past your lips - and you didn’t expect Geto to swipe up a devious thumb up your clit in retaliation. Pretty, puckering lips trailing up the valley of your breasts, “I have no idea what you oh- mean, Screen Queen.”

And despite how you were huffing and puffing, your pussy was so clingy all around him. Hips bumping up in slight bucks fully off of the bed in a pathetic attempt to match Geto’s sloppy cadence.

Completely starstruck at the sheer pressurized thrusts you were being ruthlessly dealt with - and you half-lucidly swear you could count stars over your head.

“Do it-” His lips kiss down your winking eyes, ringed fingers cold against your own now. “-do it, honey- you can do it. Might be the Screen Queen but you’re my slut, arentcha?”

God, it’s like his words were hypnotic - maybe they were.

And you dredge up every single bit of will in your trembly body to push past the way that he was absolutely ravaging you inside.

Pound after pound of his swollen cock, the chilling cold metal of his dick piercing helping you discover forbidden sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even realize existed.

So merciless that he’s slipping out a few inches by accident- only to let out a shuddering gasp, eyes shooting almost-comically wide open before sheathing his way in again. Even deeper - you’re being crushed with the weight of one of his knees pressing down on your body.

Over and over-

“Wanna- hah- wanna cum so badly-” your words prattle out delicately. Fingers searing across his scalp, and the way that you tug makes him hiss. It makes him rut, it makes him slam his hips down bruisingly. “Please-”

He leaves a slurping wet kiss on your neck - and another with his fingers onto the hood of your clit. Rolling over with the angled curve of his thumb. Obviously, having you drop a few tresses of his hair- “Heh, maybe t-tie my hair properly n’ I’ll let ya cum- you know s’a staple of my hngh- videos.”

So infuriating, it makes you clench.

That sleazy grin plastered across Geto’s face was unfairly sexy, and so was the way his body was wracking with sudden shivers. Boasting down every curve and muscle, forcing him to fall onto his elbows-

“Hngh- n’ you call me the rookie-” Your smug grin curves upwards at the way that Geto was so tangibly pussydrunk, the way his hips squelch sloppier into your own. The dripping wet noises so obscene that you could feel your cunt drenching even further with each emanating one.

“God, you’re in for it-” he’s spitting out a few slews of swears against your dangling open mouth. Pinching meanly at your clit. “You’re in- hah- you’re sooo in for it-”

But then Geto sees white - and so do you.

Whether from the crashing pleasure of your orgasm, or the way that he was suddenly pumping out thick ribbons of cum into your snugly filled cunt, you have no idea. And you don’t even have the rational brain capacity to even wonder right now.

Because Geto was fucking you through your high like he hated you, rutting up like an animal. And you were sure that if his canines were just a tinge sharper, they’d be drawing blood with how hard he was sinking them into the crook of your neck.

Only deeper, more feral, with every pump of his spazzing cock - gushing out in boatloads of syrupy cum. It thwacks! against the utterly bruised and battered wet surface of your cervix, before dripping down, down, down to your g-spot.

And there’s so much.

Such velvety volumes that ooze down in creamy dredges from the very purse of your pussy lips to form a milky ring around his ruddied base. It inflates your constricting walls from the inside - and yet, still not enough.

He presses one hand down to feel for that bump where you’d been filled to the brim. Sure to add more - to paint your dripping insides white until he was shooting blanks the same way he’d done to simply the thought of you. The idea makes him moan-

No, it makes him whimper.

“Still haven’t hngh f-finished tying my hair, honey.” Geto’s mouth leaves possessive marks down your neck. And his sensitive hips dart with a simple, sullying gyration, smiling, “Either you hngh finally do it properly like a good girl th-this time n’ we make a movie or- we go see one. This weekend. You and me. Your choice, Screen Queen.”

A/N. This got LONG but OHH PIERCED GETO MY BELOVED.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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inknopewetrust · 2 days ago

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𝐍𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

[𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] [𝐰𝐜: 𝟕.𝟎𝟐𝐤]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟏 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟕.

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

The weather had leveled out in the days that followed.

It sprinkled and poured, sleeted and hailed when the wind got bad enough but it was never a match from the stormed that brewed inside of you like the darkest magic taking hold. You weren’t sure if Hell was nicer than watching Dean weave his way into each town and flirt with all of the girls that looked his way but if it were up to you, you’d rather be there burning.

Every time you’d glance across the bar his eyes would be twinkling. Full of this mischievous fire swirling to lock onto a face he’d forget, a name he wouldn’t recall. For what? You rapped your fingers against the tabletop. There was no answer to the question.

Your “few days” had turned into a few weeks of hunting.

You’d taken every ounce of your vacation time without truly thinking of the consequences that laid in your path. No new stories, no angry emails from patrons across the states, no pressing concern from the higher-ups to come back to work. Those elements paled in comparison to sitting in a hole-in-the-wall wallowing with Sam as Dean fished for a catch—nevertheless it was a change of pace and a difference from what you had grown used to.

No one was reading The Supernatural Chronicles in December. It was out of season, unimportant. There was a lull and every part of your life besides the strange happenstances of the battles they chose to take on.

You didn’t think this small excursion at Sam’s call would have ended up with you sitting in the back of Baby a whole month later. You didn’t have enough clothes, you barely had time to call your landlord, and worse, your job was hanging by a thread. It stretched thin and every passing day kindling the twine to its thinnest string.

And then the skin-walker incident happened.

And the police were always hot on your tail… well, Sam and Dean’s tail… but mostly Dean’s.

The fights between you and Dean, however, were nothing short of familiar. You wallowed in choice as the day ended and the night rose. A one-hit-wonder played in the air around you; condensation ran along the edge of your glass to puddle on the coaster.

Sam’s head was buried in his father’s journal beside you.

John Winchester had been missing for months. Not a peep heard from Bobby to Ellen to the tiniest taps of his shoes but both of them continued to look as the mysteries took you around the states. Every hint John had laid bare in his journal ate away at Sam. It was as though the hints were unintentional, in many ways. Little crumbs to dead ends and situations that stole their attention away for not three-days at a time.

“What’s he sayin’ now?” You turned the straw in your drink to create a tornado.

“Dean’s sixteenth birthday,” Sam droned. “He ever tell you about that one?”

“The werewolf?”

Sam nodded and you recalled most of what Dean had ever told you—although he had been in your life, they both have, for a little over half of it—making it had to sift through the pages.

“Yeah,” you nodded faintly. “John made him take the lead. One of his first ‘big boy’ jobs, if you will.”

Sam snickered with a sly grin. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

You glanced in Dean’s direction again. He was occupied with a blond in a short jean skirt. “I doubt he’d hear it even if I shouted.”

Sam looked up and toward his brother in turn. Even if you had been playing a strong game, you wore it on your sleeve. Jealousy was an ugly bug for two people who seemed to be on different ends of planet earth.

“What was your favorite job?” Sam interjected the staring before it was too far gone. You peered into your glass.

“You mean a hunt or a real job? Like a job, job?”

“Hunt, I guess.”

“I’ve been on so many they seem to blur together sometimes.” Sam nodded in agreement as he closed John’s book. “I think I was… eighteen? Just turned eighteen. Do you remember when I graduated high school and Dean wanted to go roadtripping for a week?”

Sam noted fondly. “I remember how bad I wanted to go along, yeah.”

“Sorry about that,” you apologized half-heartedly. “But Dean took me up to Michigan and we spent a week in Munchkin Land.”

“Munchkin Land? Like the—“

“Wizard of Oz?” You finished. “There’s a graveyard with the remains of a bunch of kids—two girls in particular who were said to haunt the area because they’d been murdered by a priest and then the God fearing man killed himself out of remorse… or so they say.”

“What drew you there? Why go?”

“Dean caught wind of it, he said, through a New York Times article.”

“Oh,” Sam’s eyes widened slightly, brows going high.

“Turns out it was all… fake. A true urban legend of the area.”

“That’s not really a hunt then, is it?”

“No,” your hands drug against the tabletop and into your lap as you looked at Sam. He had bags under his eyes. He hadn’t slept good in days. “But I think we were all a little happier back then.”

“It’s hard not to think about that,” Sam said quietly while the music drowned him out.

Everything was heavy. The world was weighing down and sitting pretty on top of the shoulders of the damned. If you had truly been granted a peaceful life, perhaps you’d be happy. Maybe Sam would have graduated, Dean would have a real job, and maybe you’d all have parents who loved and encouraged you.

“What was so great about Michigan? I mean, I’ve been there a few times now and I don’t think it’s too much to say that it’s no different than Illinois, or Wisconsin, or Indiana.”

“I guess it was just… we spent seven days weaving in and out of hunting and almost vacationing. It was normal. Or at least a normal as you could get. No motel, an actual hotel. It was on the cusp of fall and there’s truly no fall like a midwest one. There’s something that’s stuck with me. I can’t get rid of it even if I tried.”

Sam peered at Dean again.

“Does it bother you? If it’s any consolidation, he’s like this everywhere. Ever since he picked me up the first time, every place we go is the same.”

You shrugged. To tell Sam the truth? Never. He didn’t need to deal with petty things. A girl who can’t seem to get over an ex who seemed to do everything in his power to make her dislike him? Dean just reeled you in.

“Dean will be Dean. I’m not trying to control him.”

“No one can,” Sam scoffed. “But I do think dad going missing is weighing on him more than he lets on.”

“Tell me something new, Sam,” you swallowed your words with a sip of your drink. “John was the center of his world when you left and well before that. You know he was. It was like trying to keep a dog on a leash before it obliterates a squirrel just because it can.”

Sam furrowed his brows at you. Shaking your head, you dismissed it. “For another time.”

“I could read your journal and find out about it for myself,” he countered.

“And your hands will go missing in the night if you touch it, Sammy. I swear,” you groaned playfully, “you Winchester boys will be the death of me.”

“Not before we solve the case in Iowa.”

Ankeny, Iowa.

Dean read a local journal yesterday morning of a case where the suspect was already being tolled around as a “ghost.” The only witness was too terrified to be interviewed, too frightened to give a real description other than “ghost.” To anyone else it would have been plain and simple: she was crazy.

But those stories aren’t lore. They’re not lies nor is that victim crazy.

“Not before we solve the case in Iowa,” you repeated and sat up straighter at the mention of a case. It had summoned Dean unknowingly to the table. He moved with a casual sureness that he’d snagged a woman’s number wrapped in a bar napkin.

He tucked the white napkin into his pocket, lightly grinning as he chewed gum obnoxiously. Those eyes still gleamed in the low light of the bar.

“What’s with the mopey looks?” Dean questioned. He sat on the stool across from you and you pulled your drink closer as if to distract you.

“Just tired,” Sam covered. “We gotta get going, Dean. If we want to get there by ten we’ve gotta leave.”

Dean’s face contorted. “Oh, come on!”

“You wanted to take on this one!” Sam defended.

“We can’t just get a room somewhere here?”

“So you can hook up with some random girl you’ve just met?” Sam argued back. Dean’s eyes flicked to you but you weren’t looking at him. In actuality, you were looking everywhere but him.

Dean stressed to Sam silently to be more ‘aware’ of his surroundings yet Sam had little sympathy.

“No!” Dean offered exaggeratedly. “You said it, we could use the rest. We’re all tired.”

“Not tired enough to go to a bar, not tired enough to flirt with some no name—“

“—I know her name,” Dean lamented.

“Oh yeah? What is it?” Sam challenged.

“Sam, come on,” you shook your head. Dean stuttered. He glimpsed back at the blond he had been talking to who wiggled her fingers in a wave toward him.

Dean turned back to you and Sam. “Alright fine. I don’t remember her name but it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Right,” you laughed. “You can make a girl feel really wanted that way.”

“I’m not looking to date her, sweetheart. I think we each deserve a little fun after all we do for the world. We’re heroes, practically.”

“Sure,” you agreed loosely. “But the second I’d go and hit on Mr. 401k over there—“ there was a man, a little older than you, dressed in a suit and drinking whisky on the other end of the bar from the blond. “—we’d be out the door without a second thought.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, elbows finding themselves on the table top and leaning in.

“Why is it such a big deal if I sack a broad, hm? As far as I’m concerned, there are no strings attached.” His finger motioned between the two of you.

“It’s not a big deal,” you swirled off the chair and landed your feet on the floor. “I don’t care what you do, Dean. And maybe work on your flattery a little bit? She deserves better than ‘broad.’”

Sam followed suit. “We’ve gotta go, Dean.”

Dean sighed. He leaned back on his own chair and ran a hand over his face. Eventually, he conceded. Jumping off his own chair and following behind you as Sam took the lead to exit the bar.

Dean loomed even if he wasn’t as tall as Sam. His presence was drawing, eclipsing the space around you as your shoes clattered on the rickety wooden floor to trail Sam. You didn’t dare stagger in step with him hot on your tail. His boots nearly nipping the backs of your shoes, he kept close as the three of your weaved through the patrons.

Reaching the end of the bar, you passed Mr. 401k who hadn’t even peaked in your direction but after you had passed, Dean’s elbow abruptly knocked into his back and sent his drink spilling into his lap. The man made a sound of ‘what the fuck, man?’

“So sorry! It was an accident,” Dean offered as he continued to walk past. You barely turned around to see the commotion when Dean’s hands rested on your shoulders and prompted you forward.

“Wha—“

“Nothin’,” he shrugged off and you felt the air shift. You were right. Dean’s immaturity leaked through like a sieve and you were reminded of why the world wasn’t kinder to your love before.

“Dean—“

“I thought you didn’t care?” He questioned with his voice low enough to hear over the music that still streamed from the bar. His hands slipped from your shoulders.

“You think he’s cute? Kinda your speed now, isn’t it?”

“You’re being childish. We have work to do. Why can’t you just put this one night to bed?”

“So you do,” Dean pressed as though he had cracked a larger case. He didn’t, but he felt like he did.

“Please,” you shook your head as Sam held open the door for you both. Breaching the threshold, you felt the cool air and could breathe again. “I don’t care what you do. But don’t pretend you don’t care about what I do. I’m not interested! He didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I don’t care!” Dean bickered after you like a seven-year-old. Baby was in sight and Sam was quick to get in the car.

You paused at the door handle of the back drivers side seat that you’d claimed as your own. Dean couldn’t see you as well through the mirror when you sat there and you could always make reactions to Sam from that side.

“If this is going to work then we need to be civil.”

“I have been being civil, sweetheart.” He stressed but was still aggravated. He may have been pent up, maybe grated by the snub of a lay.

“No,” you scoffed. “You haven’t and shit, neither have I but God, Dean, I think the last few hunts have been the worst I’ve ever been on because we fight all the time.”

“You’re gonna leave eventually,” Dean turned his body to rest his arms atop of Baby’s roof. “What’s the point?”

“Of being nice to each other?”

“You’ll go back to New York in what? Three weeks? And then who knows when we’ll see you again. With our luck maybe never so what’s the point?”

“I’d rather our last conversation together not be about hating each other. I don’t hate you, Dean.”

“Well that’s good,” he condemned. “But you don’t like me either.”

“I don’t think you like me very much either.”

Silence sat around Baby for what felt like the hundredth time since you joined them. You hated the silence that fell around Dean and yourself.

“In three weeks I’ll go back to my corner of the world and there’s a chance your dad will be back by then,” you laid out. “If you want to check in you can always call or call Bobby.”

“Bobby ain’t gonna tell me anything,” you looked at you as if to say ‘seriously?’

“You’re the closest thing he has to a son, Dean. He might love us both but he’s not evil enough to close us off.”

“No we just do that ourselves.”

“I don’t care if you sleep with other girls,” you brought up again. “But I’d appreciate a little courtesy. And in front of Sam? He doesn’t need to hear it either.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek and looked out into the dark parking lot.

“It’s funny, you know… that this is where we’ve end up.”

“Three weeks,” you reminded him. “Then you don’t have to see me again.”

You opened the car door and slipped inside of the cab.

You can’t recall the last time you went to church on your own volition. The choice to spend time away from something more to pray to a power that had no proof of existence had befuddled you. It didn’t hurt that religious folk often soiled their own reputation with foot-in-mouth syndrome or the plain fact that the most devoted were the most wicked.

And you’d seen enough wickedness for one lifetime.

Sam and Dean had gathered that the victim turned out to be the reverends daughter in town. So, parked outside in Baby, the three of you scoped out the building before thinking of joining the service. Sam let the door close roughly behind him to where it squeaked on its hinges.

You slid into the pew behind Dean and looked around. The stained glass told the story of the damned rising to heaven on forgiveness.

“The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passings,” the Reverend focused on his congregation. A girl in the front, brown haired and innocent, peered back to where Sam sat last.

It didn’t surprise you that she caught his eye. Sam bled empathy—a stark contrast to the harshness of Dean’s stoney face and unless she was looking for sympathy from a woman, she didn’t bother to pass over you.

Sam gave her a tight smile.

His kindness wasn’t enough to heal wounds or make a difference in her life then, but you could see the string of connection bloom. It was the case that sucked you in too much, the one you couldn’t leave behind in the end.

“So, please, let us pray. For peace, for guidance, and for the power to protect our children.”

You didn’t feel the rays of Heaven bless you in prayer.

Once the service ended and the congregation exited their pews, Sam spotted Lori, the girl, outside along the sidewalk waving goodbye to her friend that had been sat beside her inside.

“So, what are we?” You asked Sam in the doorway.

“College students. We told the fraternity that we were brothers from another state so why change it. It worked, got us in.”

“Plus no badges, no investigations. We’re young enough.” Dean smiled widely at the two of you.

“Sam take the lead,” you stated. Sam nodded and walked around you to approach Lori. He stated the three of you as new transfer students with a knack for the Lord and what he offered.

“We don’t want to bother you,” Sam played the nervous, unwanted attention type well. “We heard about what happened.”

“And wanted to say how sorry we are,” Dean interjected.

“I kind of know what you’re going through. I kinda saw someone get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.”

Behind Lori, her father watched cautiously as she conversed with the three of you. He watched Sam and Dean, not you. You never were the threat for so many of these men you’ve encountered over the years. The Reverend finished his conversation and put a hand on Lori’s back.

“Dad,” Lori turned to her father’s presence. She introduced Sam, Dean, and yourself. “They’re new students.”

Dean extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir. I must say that was an inspiring sermon.”

You could have thrown up from the lying. Dean had never been inspired by men of God. They had only ever looked at him, at John, as false prophets to a cause they wouldn’t recognize as real. As you had determined before, the God fearing people of the planet were the worst of their kind.

Her father pondered at the three of you carefully. He took in Sam and Dean, judging their clothes and their hair and their attitudes along with their statures that stood tall. The Reverend held no reverence for you—squashed in-between the brothers like a little kid.

A twenty-something-woman settled between two twenty-something-men and they didn’t look alike? A sin in his playbook.

“Thank you very much. It’s so very nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.”

Dean took the Reverend away from Sam and yourself. Lori, in the comfort of the two of you, shed light on what had happened and what she had heard and thought she’d seen. You thought she was holding herself remarkably well for someone who witnessed her date’s murder.

An hour later, Lori’s details had led you to strain your eyes over criminal records of the town. You knew two items to look: 1. It may have been the Hook Man’s urban legend and 2. It may also not be an urban legend but a ghost.

“I’ve got nothing but men murdering their wives and the odd death by horse,” you groaned into your hands as you rubbed your eyes.

Dean leaned back on his chair. He tossed his file folder further onto the table in defeat also.

“Nothin’” he reaffirmed. You could hear Sam’s sigh from behind you as he flipped through the pages of the next year.

“Hey,” Sam alerted. “Check this out.”

You turned in your chair as Dean took up a spot next to Sam. A preacher killed thirteen prostitutes after the immorality of the red light district had finally gotten to him. Dean picked up one of the pages that had old printings on it. He turned it in the direction of you who nodded after taking it in.

“Sounds like Jack the Ripper almost.”

“OoO,” Dean cooed. “I’d love to meet him.”

“So, nine mile road?” You questioned. “But what if he’s attached to Lori? He could go after her even if she’s not there.”

Sam hummed in agreement. “We’ll drop you outside of the sorority. You could just keep watch until we get back.”

Dean let out a laugh. “No way,”

You scowled at Dean. “Why not? That’s a fine plan.”

“We’re not leaving you out on sorority row on a Sunday night,” Dean came around from the bookcase and began cleaning up the files.

“I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“Just leave her a gun and it will be fine.”

“We can just do this together, alright? I don’t know what’s so hard to understand about that.” Dean’s voice was gruff. The kind he’d use when he wanted something done his way over anyone else’s.

“Dean,” Sam sighed. “We need to cover ground. If she’s by Lori, then it’s one less life we have to worry about losing. What happens when the only girl who has seen this thing dies?”

“Then I’ll go. You two can go to nine mile road.”

“You are not sitting outside of a sorority house. If someone sees you, they’ll call the police,” Sam wanted to laugh but knew he couldn’t.

Dean closed the lid of the box with a long breath. “When we’re done, we are all staking out her place. Got it?”

Sam nodded, not willing to argue against his concession. Dean glanced at you and you could see the displeasure in his eyes. That stewing vexation; you were a bit peeved at his upset. Did he even have a right to be?

“I’m capable of more than this,” you told him as you stacked your box atop his. “Stop pretending that I’m incapable of what we’ve always know. It’s a ghost. It’s not going to kill us.”

“But wh—“

“But what about nothing. Nothing, Dean.” Sam graciously took the boxes back to the librarians desk to escape your conversation. “I asked us to be civil, not for you to be a bump in the road. We’ve faced worse than this.”

“Alright.” he walked off and left you at the table to clean up the rest.

No one would pick up the phone.

The voicemail kept replaying over and over. It’s generic, preset voice replaying the number and tone repeatedly until you had given up. You called five times and figured whatever had led them to not answer your call, it better have been better than this.

You were the one to hear Lori scream from inside the house.

Night had come and went with a snap and you woke between the trees of the fence and driveway to the sound of her screaming her lungs out on the second floor. An anonymous tip led the police to the sorority and while Lori had come out of the night unscathed, her roommate hadn’t.

Prompted again by the passing police men, you called Dean’s phone in hopes that he’d pick up. It rang twice and he did. He said your name through the receiver and it, for a brief moment, was the best sound you’d ever heard.

“Goddammit, Dean, where were you?” You spat into the phone. “I’ve been trying your phone all morning!”

“We got tied up with the brass,” he said casually on the other end.

“You were in jail?”

“We handled it. What’s the problem? Girls having pillow fights in their underwear?”

You removed the phone from your ear and closed your eyes. Dean never thought too hard into what he said. He was still twenty-one when his body became twenty-six.

“Lori’s roommate was killed,” you put the phone back to your ear. “If you two are doing dicking around maybe we can find this son of a bitch before it’s too late.”

Dean laughed. “Who lit the fire under your ass, sweetheart? I like it.”

“Just get here, please. I’m not sure how much longer they’re gonna accept the idea that I’m a pledge.”

“Nah,” Dean had a smile on his face. “You’ll pass just fine. You remember when I came to visit you at NYU? That Halloween—“

Dean removed the phone from his ear when the signal went dead. You’d hung up on him before he could finish and still had a victorious grin on his face while Sam looked on in slighted disappointment.

“You know,” Sam shook his head, “I really don’t get you two.”

“What?” Dean’s face drew flat at his brother. Sam weighed whether to go on as Dean’s words from weeks ago played through his memory.

“I don’t care if we grew up with her, I don’t care if we know her, I don’t care if everything goes to shit. You don’t get to talk about us.”

“I don’t know why you prod it like that.”

“Sam,” Dean scolded. “You say a lot of dumb shit sometimes but I never want to hear you say that again.”

“Poking the bear, I mean. Just be normal for once.”

“Just in case you haven’t noticed, Sam, but we’re not exactly normal to begin with.”

“I mean with her!” He exclaimed loudly. “You’re acting like a teenage boy who can’t get over his first crush. She knows what she’s doing and I wouldn’t have called her if I didn’t think she could.”

“We’re not having this conversation again,” Dean cut in. “I’m making amends. We’re trying to be civil—at least that’s what she said.”

“Then be a little less chauvinistic. Or for God sakes just treat her like a hunter if you can’t separate from having loved her once.”

“Be strangers… is that what you’re asking?”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Dean went silent and Sam allowed it to settle. Baby’s roar drove them to the sorority house and to the back where you’d been standing beside the line of evergreen trees.

You let out a breath of relief at the sight.

“Jesus,” you muttered. “Took you long enough.”

“Can you get us in or do we have to, you know, climb the window?” Sam asked.

“There are girls in there yet. I don’t know why the police haven’t cleared the scene.”

“Because they haven’t faced something like this in years,” Dean tugged on the lattice along the siding. “They’re idiots. Real easy to convince that Sam’s a dumb ass pledge.”

Dean climbed up the lattice and went over the surrounding deck at the top. He motioned to Sam who tried to be inconspicuous as he climbed his tall, lanky body along the house. With you third, Dean grabbed your hand as you reached the top and helped tug you over.

Inside of making a comment or a chided facial expression, he dropped it and opened the window to the room.

The room was untouched from a morning interrupted. But the smell was unmistakable. It was a spirit.

“There,” you pointed to the bottom of the blood written message on the wall. “The cross.”

“I’ve seen that before,” Sam stated. Staring at it deeply, the image could have been hard to decipher had you had done the research before.

“The hook. It’s on the hook!”

“Karns’ pendant,” Dean ended the mystery.

“It’s a sigil, perhaps?” You questioned and the brother’s shrugged. Sam said he had papers scanned in Baby and recalled that Karns had a obituary attached to one of the scans.

And like the professionals you were, you slipped out of the sorority house and uncovered the story without anyone blinking an eye.

It began to drizzle the second you flipped on the flashlight.

Crickets chirping in the distance or beneath your feet, every branch tweaking or grass that blew the wrong way had you and Dean on high alert. Delegated with the task of burning and salting the bones of one Preacher Karns, Dean shouldered the bag of materials while you carried a flashlight and the shovel.

“Can I ask you a question?” Dean asked you as you followed a step behind.

“Shoot.”

“Why’d you answer Sam’s call?”

“I don’t know really,” you said honestly. “I had a feeling, I guess.”

“Intuition,” he pondered. “You didn’t see the caller id or…?”

“No.” You flashed the light along the graves scattered around you. None were unmarked. “I, well, I deleted your number from my phone after everything. I just… couldn’t.”

Dean nodded shallowly in understanding.

“He lied to me at first, you know? Said he was a reporter from a newspaper and that the front desk gave him the number. I thought it was a stupid mistake but maybe it was on purpose. Sam’s always been more intentional.”

“I don’t know he called you. I told him not to.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Dean.” With your flashlight, you walked around him and wandered through the graves.

“I know you think I’m an asshole,” he called after you. His steps catching up with the crunch of the grass. Dean’s shoulders were dusted with raindrops.

“Sometimes you are,” you answered honestly.

“And sometimes you’re a bitch,” he countered.

“I hope so,” you stopped again and flashed the light around. “You can’t always be a ‘nice girl’ and get what you want. Sometimes, you’ve got to be a right bitch and so be it.”

Dean never thought of the world that way. He’d been so focused on what he had known, what he had learned to know through his father and if his mother had lived a long life, he’d understand women like you better.

“When we find my dad, maybe we could start over.”

His words took you aback. Start over? For what? To when? There was no world in which you could start over with Dean Winchester. He’d follow you into every lifetime, every decade, and every story but you’d never start over.

“You really think having your dad back is going to make our lives easier?”

“Yeah,” he believed so. “But I know he doesn’t want to be found. That’s why he’s sending us on a goose chase.”

“Then maybe we can’t start over.”

“What do you, uh,” Dean steered the conversation as the graves around you went moot again, “think Sam’s up to?”

“Probably watching over her just like he said he would. Sam isn’t the lying type, you know that.”

“Remember how I told you about Jessica?”

“His girlfriend?” You recalled. “Yeah.”

“And how he wasn’t sleeping well?”

“You said he wasn’t doing well. Those are two separate things, Dean.”

“For the past two weeks, he hasn’t sleep a whole night.”

You kept looking around you until finally, you spotted the grave marked by the same symbol. You tipped your head in the direction of the grave illuminated by your flashlight and Dean dropped the bag.

“I’m going to assume you know that because you’re not sleeping either?” It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Well someone took the bed I was using… the floor isn’t great.”

The second night on the road was the first time Dean had been decent to you since you reunited. Without a fight, he had offered you the bed he claimed every time and took the floor. It felt wrong but he wouldn’t listen to an argument. He simply took the pillows from the side he’d always claim as his own and laid them down at the foot of the bed.

“I told you that you didn’t have to sleep on the floor,” you defended. Dean took the shovel and broke ground.

“You know what happens when we share a bed, sweetheart.”

“Anyway,” you motioned for him to continue with a roll of your eyes. “Sam?”

“I was just gonna say that I think he’s projecting on this girl.” You kicked clumps of grass out of the way.

“They have something in common at least. Not to mention that she’s not going bat-shit-crazy for seeing what she has. Lori’s… fine, by all means of the word.”

Dean paused digging for a second to shed his leather jacket. You took it from his hands and laid it across a headstone not far from where you were standing.

“We need to be looking out for him. I-can’t explain it. I can feel it. Like how you felt something about answering the call. It’s stupid—“

“It’s not stupid, Dean. It’s alright,” you reassured. He didn’t deserve your security. “We have each others backs no matter what, yeah?”

Dean ducked his head to pick the ground with the shovel. As he gripped the handle, you couldn’t help but look at the way his arms tightened and the lines became more prominent.

“If you’ve got my back, you think you could grab the shovel in the bag and start digging? Otherwise this is gonna take me all night.”

You smiled at him honestly for the first time in awhile.

“Sure. Let’s burn this son of a bitch.”

Everything had gotten worse after you had burnt and salted the bones with Dean.

It hadn’t solved anything.

Lori’s father had been attacked after Sam unveiled the Reverend’s own immorality that Lori deemed sinful. It was clear that Lori was the summoner—or at least the living attachment the poltergeist had to this world. It was also abundantly clear after Sam asked about the hook that a piece of this monster was still roaming the earth, even if not made of flesh and bone.

You knew there was no hook. Surely Dean would have made a comment, tried it on for shits and giggles before burning the bones. But he hadn’t and when Sam called panicked at the local hospital, it gave neither of you time to process that the feature hadn’t been there.

“What do you think happened to it?” Dean asked Sam with worry on his face that this may be the first case in a long time they couldn’t solve.

“His belongings were returned to the church.”

“The church where Lori’s dad’s a Reverend?”

“The same one,” Sam saw a silver lining. Although, it did not mean the hook was there or even in its original form.

“We could rip that place apart and still never find it,” you interjected. “What material was it made from?”

“Silver,” Sam informed.

“Think about it,” you folded your arms in front of you. “It’s 1860, it’s a church in a small community… you think they get silver like that everyday?”

“Reforged?” Dean inquired.

“That’s the best bet, wouldn’t it be? Felon’s items are donated, can’t keep the murder weapons—the public wouldn’t have liked that. Church needs to keep up its image after their Preacher goes on a spree… reforge. Forget it happened.”

“We could burn the silver in the furnace. I’m sure it’s hot enough.” Sam and Dean were quick to make an exit which had you scrambling behind.

“That could be thousands of pieces of silver!”

“You said it yourself!” Sam called out to you. “It’s a small town church!”

There was a frantic pace to the gathering. Everything from candlesticks to crucifixes to the handles of drawers needed to be sifted through in minutes.

Your hands tossed whatever silver you could find down the stairs to the basement to where Dean threw them in the furnace. Sam tossed you a chalice that looked like something out of Indiana Jones.

You threw it down the stairs and heard Dean go: “hey! This is like—“ and you felt the sentiment of starting over to grow even more impossible. Sam had left and come back in seconds with nothing more in his hands.

“I got nothing,” he panted as the sounds of Dean’s clattering went quiet.

“That it?” Dean shouted from the basement.

“That’s it,” you responded as Sam and yourself joined him beside the furnace.

“If this doesn’t do it, I don’t know what else could.”

“The a-“ your words got lost in space as the ceiling began to creak and the dirt between the boards rained down on you. Sam took the lead up the steps and with a peak, the back of Lori’s head sat in one of the pews near the front of the church.

Sam motioned for you and Dean to fall back and although Dean wanted to keep Sam in his sights, he walked back into the basement to watch the silver burn.

“He’ll be ok, Dean,” you soothed. “Sam can handle himself too.”

“I know he can,” he replied more aggravated than he should have. “I know.”

He paced around the basement to look for more silver. Dean grabbed a couple items and tossed them into the furnace.

“Too bad all this silver is going to waste… could’ve paid for better motels,” you attempted to joke but he didn’t budge.

“I just want to pro—“ this time, a shriek cut Dean off.

Above you, the thunderous roar of footsteps began to escalate around the exit of the church. The walls shook as they took the brunt of the blow from what you were both quick to assume was Jacob Karns finally manifesting himself for the end.

“Sam!” Dean yelled as he sprinted to his bag and grabbed the shotgun loaded with rock salt. “Stay here!” He shouted at you.

“Tough shit, Dean!” You argued back as you followed him up the steps and grabbed a fire poker on the way out. You knew it was worthless against a spirit like Karns but it was better than empty hands.

Through the wide halls of the church, the carpets bunched up as the speed of which Dean was running made them hazards. He followed the sounds of Lori’s screams, the grunts of Sam, and the damage of Karns’ destruction.

“Sam, drop!” Dean rose the shotgun and fired a blow into Karns’ back. He disappeared for a moment.

“I thought we got all the silver!” Sam panted.

“So did we!”

“Lori,” you caught your breath. “Where did you get that necklace?” Everyone’s eyes went to her chest as a cross laid in silver dangling on a matching chain.

“My father gave it to me?”

“Where’d your dad get it?” Dean was quick to ask.

“He said it was a church heirloom!”

“Is it silver?” Sam pressed.

“Yes!” She panicked. Sam grabbed the necklace from her neck and tugged hard which allowed it to break.

Behind you, the cracking of the drywall split with the hook of Karns. Dean turned his head, watching it break into pieces and itch its way closer and closer. He grabbed your arm and pulled you in tightly.

“We’ve got to get to the furnace,” you told him. “That’s it. I know it is.”

“Give me the necklace Sam,” Dean swapped his shotgun for the necklace and Karns’ hook reappeared on the ceiling to the Reverend’s quarters.

“Go!” Sam yelled at Dean who stumbled on his feet to get around you. You remained with Sam and Lori, guiding her and yourself around the desk as Sam tried to stand with an injured arm and fire the gun.

“Come on,” you muttered as the ghost appeared before you. Sam raised his hand but the gun was knocked from him in a weak toss.

There was nothing standing between you and the afterlife besides Dean.

You backed up as far as you could go beside Sam and Lori—the latter who hadn’t stopped panicking the entire time. Sam scrambled into your legs and wedged his body above your foot.

This hunt had been the definition of easy sans this moment. These were always the moments where you wished you were at home in your bed and safe from the world that existed in the nether between here and there.

“Sam!” You shouted at him as though he could do anything more than you.

“Come on, Dean!” Sam prayed.

And then like a crackle from a tiny spark, you heard it. A fire ignited beneath Karns. It caught on his clothes and hair; hook melted into thin air as the burn of Lori’s cross finally sent him away for good. At peace in the in between.

Dean sprinted up the steps and ran as quickly as he could to the office where he’d left the three of you. The relief washed over him as three sets of eyes met his safe and relatively unharmed.

You felt Sam sag against your leg and you knew it was over.

In the back of Baby, you sat adding to your own journal the events of the week.

Dean sat in the drivers seat while Sam said his goodbyes to a girl he’d never see again. The radio was playing faintly while the windows cracked let in the cool air of Iowa.

It was quiet and content and at ease with the visitors inside of the Impala.

Dean watched in his side mirror Sam hesitate around Lori. His schoolboy stance with his bag slung over his shoulder and his hair falling into his face; Sam shuffled on his feet.

He was nervous, but he was himself. And that was something Dean couldn’t say about himself.

The eldest Winchester peered into the rear view and thought for a moment that they could stay. That this small little town could bridge a gap that Sam had been longing for and bring some normalcy in their very ‘not normal’ lives.

He saw you in the back picking apart your writing which only made him think of the career you left behind for them.

Dean felt guilty for not giving what was necessary. However, he couldn’t provide it. He couldn’t will it within him to bargain an honest offer other than, “we could stay?” to Sam as he sat in the passenger seat and you strapped on your seatbelt.

The obvious answer would always be no.

Because with the Winchester’s, there was no place to call home.

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