18+ fantasy blog • 25 • taboo kinks ahead! don't like it, don't follow ♡ • pls lmk if I've reblogged a post of yours you'd like me to remove from my blog
this is an 18+ fantasy blog, and therefore not a safe place for minors - do not interact (follow, like, reblog, send asks/messages) if you are under 18 years old
considering the contents of the blog, please feel free to reach out via ask or message if I've reblogged a post of yours you'd like me to remove from my blog. tbh I'm not reading everyone's dni lists, I'm just tryna jack off.
kinks featured, including but not limited to: fauxcest, cnc (including the word rape), misgendering, piss, ageplay, degradation
this is first and foremost a blog for my own enjoyment. I don't tag things, I'm not holding back on what I put on here for the sake of some imagined other or respectability politics. view at your own discretion.
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son coming clean abt his attraction to his dad, telling him "im sorry, im such a disgusting pervert" only for dad to say "you dont gotta apologize. who do you think you got it from?" as he slides his hand down his sons pants and starts to rub his wet cunt
sleeping over at your new boyfriend's and his dad sneaking into his room after he hears his son run the shower. he was listening by the door, touching himself to the sounds of his son fucking for the first time. but he never heard you orgasm. he smacks a hand over your mouth and shoves his fingers in, feeling how much his son stretched you out. he groans when he feels his son's cum still inside. he calls you a whore. that he'd just come in here to do the job his son couldn't finish and make you cum. but now that he knows you're too stupid to use a condom, it doesn't matter what he does.
you try to call out for your boyfriend, but he shoves your face hard into the pillows. his cock is so much thicker, he has to stop and spit on your pussy before you can fully take him. you try to kick your legs out, but he's mounting you, holding you down, you can hardly breathe. but he's not like his son, he knows what he's doing. by the time he lets you catch your breath, you're moaning for more. he makes you cum so hard, you don't even notice your boyfriend enter the room again.
the two of them taking turns using your holes all night while father teaches son how to make a woman orgasm
passing out in the tent after miles of hiking with your dad. waking up to his fat cock gently sliding in and out while he rocks back and forth on top of you, feeling his belly pressing down on you and his beard and breath on the back of your neck, softly grunting when he feels your slick cunt tighten as you come to and realize whats happening
asking dad for a kiss and he pats his leg.. “c’mere bud”
crawling into his lap to peck his lips but he grabs a fistful of hair at my nape and shoves his tongue into my mouth,,, holds me in place and licks deep and when he finally lets me up to breathe i feel all dizzy and hot
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Got this idea from the thought of Dean fucking Sam so good he comes multiple times and when he can’t come anymore – spent and shivering and breathless – Dean keeps going, relentless, until he makes Sammy squirt.
A tremulous thing; the harsh sounds of their combined breathing. The soft, breathy noises Sam makes underneath the weight of Dean’s body; his knees pressed tightly against Dean’s sides, pale thighs spread wide, the twitch of his wet, softened cock against his lower belly, the plumpness of his sack. The clench of his ass as Dean refuses to slow his pace – chasing his own climax dogmatically – and it’s all too much, a blooming, aching kind of pleasure, too deep, and he can’t control it, can’t stop it from happening.
A moment stretched thin, slowed down – and Sam watches the way the tendons in Dean’s neck stand out in stark relief as he thrusts harder, grunting from the effort, gripping Sam’s hips in a bruising hold, white-knuckled, inexorable. It catches inside Sam, the sheer pleasure Dean gets from taking him and it loosens something else within him, something sinuous and heated and struck through with a caustic edge that snares behind his naval – and then he’s spilling over his belly, a warm gush and splatter, copious.
He can’t stop it. Can’t control the way his soft cock trembles, leaking piss with every consecutive rough thrust of Dean’s hips.
Dean’s got his head tipped back, a jut of his chin, eyes closed, long lashes fluttering, but at the pitiful sound Sam makes; lost and beseeching and so fucking humiliated, he looks down, catching sight of the mess, the dribble of piss wet across Sam’s abdomen and chest, warm-smelling.
Sam wants the mattress to swallow him whole. He wants to bury his face in his hands but there’s no time before the tears are upon him; stinging at the corners of his eyes and his breath catches so painfully that his throat hurts from it. Or maybe that’s just the sob that launches up his oesophagus. Unremitting.
“Shit, Sammy,” Dean doesn’t stop moving. In fact, he pistons his hips faster, pressing – if possible – deeper inside the clench of Sam’s tender body. Pummelling Sam’s insides with a fervency he’s never displayed before. A flex of his abdominal muscles, the flicker of his pulse in the hollow of his sweat-dampened neck. “Fuck.” Quietly said. A breathless word. Almost it sounds like an entreaty.
Sam wants to tell Dean he’s sorry. Sorry, De, I didn’t mean to! I don’t know how it happened. I’m so disgusting. But his throat feels stuffed full of jagged rocks. He gnashes his teeth together, sniffling wetly as Dean bends down, changing the angle, fumbling for Sam’s wrists and pinning them above his head. Leaning his entire weight down, capturing Sam, caging him against the mattress, making sure he can’t escape, can’t scurry away for the dubious safety of the motel bathroom.
“It’s okay,” spoken roughly against the damp skin of Sam’s neck, a rush of hot breath that makes goosebumps spring up across his skin. “It’s alright, Sammy. It happens, yeah?” A slower thrust like Dean is trying very hard to keep his composure. “Sometimes when it feels really good it happens. It’s normal. Promise.”
I pissed myself, Dean. How is that even remotely okay?! He can’t say the words out loud. Can’t look down his chest at the wet mess of it. The vulgarity of it. Damp sheet, a wet patch under his rump, a glisten of it on his torso.
“I fucked you dry, I think,” a huff, a graze of teeth to the underside of Sam’s jaw. A shiver down his spine. A twitch of his over-spent cock, too tired to harden again. “Made you squirt for me though, didn’t I.”
God. “Dean!” So wrong! Don’t say stuff like that.
A guttural laugh from Dean. It’s muffled against the corner of Sam’s mouth and then Dean is kissing him fully, warm wetness and the velvet lick of his tongue against the seam of Sam’s lips. He opens his mouth with a trembly inhale through his nose, allowing Dean entrance.
Below, he feels Dean’s cock jerk inside of him, held still, but Sam is aware of every inch. Thick and flushed and holding him exactly where Dean wants him to be. The kiss turns messy, clicking teeth and slurping noises, adolescent desire leading the charge. As Dean pulls back from it, breathing hard, a thinning strand of saliva connected to their bottom lips before it snaps, wet against Sam’s chin, Sam thinks he hears Dean whisper, too quiet to be certain, “Good boy.”
Then, louder, for Sam to hear, he says, “Just a little more, okay, Sammy? I’m close. Then we’ll get you cleaned up.”
Sammy humping Dean’s thigh, panting and moaning with his face buried in his big brother’s armpit. needy desperate and gross Winchester boys are my favorite flavor <3
i need sam being fucked by both john and dean. his poor cunt battered and red, stretched to it's limit. hes crying and weeping, pinned between both of them with no end in sight. john has his large hands braced at the small of his back, rutting against him brutishly while dean holds him tight, fucking him from below with shallow thrusts.
john is unforgiving in the way that he fucks, meanwhile dean is shushing sam, uttering encouragement. sam is weeping into his neck, ugly sobs. he keeps warbling a mantra of 'dad, daddy' into the crook of deans neck, pitiful and hiccuping things. it gets dean painfully hard.
In honor of fingers in his mouth friday, here's some filthy incest porn <3
They're on the ground, and Dean's got a shin across Sam's torso and a hand on one of his shoulders, pinning him. They were wrestling, up until a second ago, a natural devolution of their sparring match, but now they're both still other than the synchronous heaving of their chests. Sam's got his mouth open to suck in air, lips parted and skin damp with cooling sweat. Dean's looking at him like there's nothing else in the room, one-hundred percent focused on the space between his baby brother's lips, where he can see a hint of pink tongue.
He might be hard. Maybe. Wouldn't be the first time one of them has gotten a little riled up when they're sparring, won't be the last. Winchester rule for that: don't mention it and it wasn't real. Don't mention it and it didn't happen, or it happens with everyone so it's nothing worth bringing up.
Sam licks at the sweat around his lips, still breathing hard in his place under Dean. Dean can't look away from that fucking tongue.
And he's thinking about a conversation they had earlier, he's hearing the echoes of Sam saying Dean, there are some things you'll never know about me, and he was joking, probably, they weren't fighting or anything, but god, god does it itch. Dean wants—he needs to know Sam, to know everything about Sam. Dean should let them have these last few boundaries, he knows that, really. But that's his little brother, his partner in crime, his best friend, his, and Dean doesn't get to have a lot of things in this life. What little he does, he likes to know thoroughly, with his eyes and his hands.
There are some things you'll never know about me—but he could. He could. He could find out what that pink, soft-looking tongue feels like. He could find out what Sammy looks like with the taste of his brother in his mouth.
He doesn't decide to do it, he just does it; he sticks his thumb into Sam's open mouth, rubbing over his bottom lip. There's an awful, edge-of-the-knife moment where things could fall two ways and neither of them are good. And then Sam's eyes flutter shut and his body goes limp and he—well, there's really no other way to say it but he fucking whines, like a begging dog at a dinner table.
God.
Dean was right; his tongue is soft. Dangerously fucking soft and sweet, lapping at his fingertip gently. Dean might just die here, like this, with his brother loosely pinned beneath him, both of them drenched in sweat and shaking from something that isn't cold or horror.
Sam sets his teeth around Dean's thumb, not biting, just holding it in place. His lips close, his head tilts back a tiny bit and he sucks, mouth flooding with warm, wet saliva. Dean lets out an unsteady, choked gasp and half-collapses forward. His lips land against Sam's forehead without his permission, mouth open and panting.
Sam lets out another of those fucking whines that just about kill Dean on the spot, and there's a soft jingling and rustling sound that Dean, out of his mind as he is, takes no time at all to place. Fuck. Dean screws his eyes shut and doesn't look, he doesn't look, so it isn't happening, nothing's happening, Sam and Dean are on the floor and Dean's thumb is in Sam's mouth but that's—that's a joke, or something. Dean's got his eyes shut, so he doesn't know that that sound is Sam's belt opening and his pants being shoved aside.
Even when Sam lets out a series of broken little whimpers, even when Dean can hear the desperate rhythm of his hand moving over himself, that's not anything. The arch of Sam's back, his teeth biting down almost hard enough to break skin, a gasping moan, and the hot splatter of fluid against Dean's other hand, which had migrated down to Sam's stomach at some point he doesn't quite remember—all of that is incidental and excusable. Dean didn't see it. It wasn't real.
But when Dean picks up his cum-dirtied hand, his eyes crack just a tiny bit open. And when he slides a finger in his own mouth and sucks and licks the salty evidence from his own skin, his eyes meet Sam's, just for a second. He squeezes himself through his jeans and comes with the awful, awe-filled thought that god, this was real.
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thinking about how handjobs would go in later seasons wincest. i think it would go like this: sam in dean's lap, all 210+ lbs of him, knees around dean's ribs, face buried in dean's neck, huffing wetly, hair shrouding him, curled into dean, dean working one hand on sam's cock, the other wrapped protectively around the back of sam's head. sam moaning and whimpering into dean's neck, panting and shuddering, dean murmuring that's it, that's it, you're doing so good for me, sammy, fast and slow and just not quite enough, dean's chest pressed to sam's so he can feel his heartbeat, sam, all 6-foot-something of him curled around his big brother, jamming his face into the crook of dean's neck to muffle his moans, dean all, you like that, sweetheart? i promised i'd make it good for you and when sam comes his entire body spasms in dean's arms and his eyes screw shut tighter and he's gasping, and dean's so dizzy with lust at the feel of his baby brother all taut muscle and hot pleasure and dripping come, and sam's grasping at the back of dean's shirt almost involuntarily, fingers opening and closing, just like he used to do when he was a toddler
Dad who makes his sons kiss in front of him as a punishment. They were fighting again and dad had to break it up, and now they have to literally kiss and make up. Both boys grumble and reluctantly obey their dad by pecking each other on the lips, but dad tells them to do it better, to really mean it.
Eventually his sons are sloppily making out and swirling their tongues in each other’s mouth while dad watches on with his cock throbbing in his pants, calling them good boys for making up. His boys are so cute when they get along.
Did you cum bro ? Is that all it takes, slipping my dick in that faggot pussy ? Oh so that’s it, you like when I fill you up, or is it my balls slapping your pussy ? That’s it isn’t it, you like the sound? No ? It’s the feeling, you just like getting filled up over and over, and everytime I fill you up you know I’m closer and closer to filling you up with my cum. Is that what you want, you want my cum, you wanna feel me filling you up, making this hole mine. I bet it does, I know it does. If that’s what you wanted all you had to do was ask !
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thighjob where we’re snuggling real close in bed and your cock is sliding back and forth but it’s passing over my clit each time and i’m digging my nails into you and hiding my face in your chest and one of your hands is on my ass pulling me forward and back in perfect rhythm with you like a stupid little whining sex toy made to get you off and you warn me between low groans not to wiggle my hips otherwise it’ll end up inside me and i’m fucking whining that it’s not fair and you’re saying i know baby i know baby but doesn’t it feel so good and i’m nodding reluctantly because god fucking yes it’s so wet and warm and the way it sounds— is messing with my thoughts and i can’t fucking think but it’s— it sounds fucking perverse and you’re asking me if i like how it sounds dirty like that because i’m just as filthy as you are and you can feel me getting more wet and you can feel my clit getting more swollen against your shaft and you bet i like how i can feel every single fucking vein moving back and forth over my soft wet pussy and oh you bet it feels even better because we’re so close like this right baby? so close together aww you’re such a romantic baby, do you like it when i make my dick feel good with your pretty body? and i’m nodding again but this time can’t even say it and
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