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r᥆mᥲᥒ 𝗍᥆ᥒgᥙᥱs ȷᥲrᥱძ ᥎іᥲ ᥴ᥆rᑲіᥒ𝖿іsһᥱr - ᥲᥴm - ᥣіgһ𝗍іᥒg r᥆mᥲᥒ’s ᥴᥲᥒძᥣᥱ

On Camera

 a fic for @writethelifeyouwant about Sam. On camera.

I think it ended up a bit over 500 words. Sorry not sorry.

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Sam looks around nervously, a final check that everything’s in place. Bed made, door locked, roommate out for the next few hours, lights adjusted the way the studio told him to. Lube and a “realistic” dildo in easy reach, and he’s wearing loose gray sweatpants and a Stanford-red hoodie.

Tripod with camera aimed at the pool of light on the bed, and he wishes he could keep his face out but the studio pays more if they can see his face, his reactions, and he’s more than a little desperate since discovering that his scholarship doesn’t cover books or meal plan and he needs cash fast. Luckily there’s a market for pretty boys in financial need, he doesn’t even need to let someone else touch him and the studio loved his jack-off video. 

This’ll pay more.

Deep breath. He hits “record” and moves around to sit on the bed.

“Hey, so uh… I’m Sam, and you all liked my first vid so much, I’m making another. And it’d really help me out if you could leave a comment about what else you’d like to see from me.” He scrubs his hands on his sweatpants, laughs a little. “I’m still a bit nervous, so any encouragement you all could give would be… yeah.”

The studio told him not to worry about music or anything, they’d add some when they edited the video he’s sending them, but he can’t help wishing he could have something playing. Anything to get his mind off the camera in front of him and the blinking red light. He knows his cheeks are flushed red from embarrassment, but the studio loved that. “Ya look all innocent and shy… that gets lots of subscribers. Keep it up!”

He rubs the back of his neck, glances up at the camera, and feels himself blush harder. The problem is he’s just not in the mood, but if he doesn’t drop this tape in the mail today, he’s gonna start really falling behind on his classes. And maybe he shouldn’t, because that’s what got him into this new line of work in the first place, but he can’t break a habit of a lifetime, so he closes his eyes and thinks what would dean do.

Tries not to feel shame as he pictures Dean in his position and his dick starts to take interest immediately. He strokes it lightly, teasing through soft cotton, enough so it plumps up to tent the fabric before sliding his hands up his chest, rubbing at his nipples until they stiffen.

Keep reading

The Paternal Trifecta | Dean Winchester [x.] [Sam version]

What if Sam didn't notice the first time Dean broke into his apartment? What if Dean got in, helped himself to a beer from the fridge, and then just wandered around the living room? Looking at pictures on the walls (in the dark, so he doesn't notice the corner of a picture of him and Sam sticking out of the LSAT study book on the coffee table), looking at the uncluttered, settled, homeyness of this place Sam lives. With a girl. With not Dean.

What if eventually, he gets tired of waiting for Sam's hunter instincts to kick in, because clearly Sam's gotten rusty if he hasn't woken up yet, so he makes his silent (maybe not-so-silent, maybe he's making a bit of noise on purpose because he wantsneedshungers to feel Sam against him like he used to, when they were younger and sparring) way to the bedroom. What if he pauses at the door, open just a crack, because those sounds are muffled but quite clearly involved and Dean's never had a chance to walk in on Sammy with a girl before. Walk in on Sammy naked, sure, that was inevitable with how they grew up. Walk in on Sammy jerkin' it, yeah. That was also inevitable (especially when he was trying to, needed desperately to see Sam when he was lost in pleasure, loose and wanton and so so forbidden). But Sammy with a girl? Heck, for all Dean knows, Sam left for college a virgin (thank god).

What if Dean peeks through the crack in the door, and suddenly he can't breathe because those sounds are muffled because Sam's biting a pillow, knuckles white where he's holding fistfuls of it, and a blonde goddess with a leather halter on her hips is thrusting into him and they're glistening with sweat in the moonlight and all Dean can think about is how much he hates that woman, how much he wants to be the one holding Sam's waist in a bruising grip, how much he wants to feel Sam tight and hot around him.

What if Dean sees the woman - Jess, her name is Jess, his stalking has taught him that much - lean down, what if Dean hears her say "you like that, baby brother?" and what if Sam's cry as he comes gets Dean harder than diamonds and Dean has to leave, has to get out now because if he doesn't...

if he doesn't...

god, if he doesn't he might have to pull her off of Sam, because that should be him and Sam knows it and clearly she knows it too.

What if Dean had to come back the next night, because he couldn't trust himself that first time he broke in?

sammy: i fucking love you.

dean: and i love fucking you.

sammy: ???

dean: i mean i love you too.

Yessss but also think about it

Can you imagine all the lives that could be saved just by conspiracy theorists and social media influencers and teenage trend followers who start salting their doors and windows, getting anti-possession tattoos, carving protection symbols into their desks at school?

Watching it spread to the wider population as graffiti artists and taggers start picking up the symbology and spraying it in subway tunnels and graveyards, abandoned buildings, community lots?

As YouTube crafters go viral with cutesy little make-your-own protective hex bags to hand out at Halloween instead of candy (bonus: you'll finally have something to make with that teetering pile of fabric remnants!) and Etsy sellers start pumping out pieces of pure silver jewellery to identify skinwalkers and werewolves (they won't suspect a thing!), and small metalworks businesses ride the trend by designing wrought iron wall-hangings and custom pieces for gardens to ward off witches and fairies?

Ah! The possibilities!

Ignoring for a moment the potential to be caught as a murderer or arrested for frequent impersonation of federal agents, more hunters in the future could probably turn to vlogging and days in the life (both to educate other hunters and drum up funds) and it would be consumed and dismissed by the general public as an elaborate found footage gimmick.