If I really think about it. All yall my opps.

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@twinkletoejam
If I really think about it. All yall my opps.
shota sam pussy 🤤
Subconsciously, Sam knows what they’re doing is wrong. But Dean is his big brother — his protector and hero, the only person who has ever promised to keep him safe no matter what. So it’s means Dean knows better.
‘Sammy,’ Dean says, ‘you know I’d do anything for you, right? I’ve always protected you. Killed for you. So when I need a little help… you’re not gonna let me down, are you?’ His hand slides under Sam’s shirt, it’s warm and possessive. ‘It’s just us. No one else has to know. This is how you show me you love me back.’
Dean’s hands roam without shame, touching Sam’s chest, his soft belly, then sliding lower to his ass and crotch. ‘See? Your body knows who it belongs to. Doesn’t feel wrong when I touch you, does it?’
Sam squirms, ashamed of how quickly his pussy gets wet under his brother’s hand, but Dean doesn’t let him pull away. ‘Shh, it’s okay. Big brother’s got you.’
Sometimes Dean sits on the edge of the bed, unzips his jeans, and pulls out his thick, heavy cock, that already leaking at the tip. He strokes it lazily while looking at Sam with that intense, expectant gaze.
‘If you really want to help me, Sammy… if you want me to keep protecting you, keep us together… then get on your knees. That’s it.’ Dean’s fingers thread through Sam’s hair, guiding him forward. ‘Open up. Take it in your little mouth. Yeah… just like that. Fuck, your mouth feels so good. Suck harder, bamby. Use your tongue on the head.’
When Sam hesitates or looks ashamed, Dean’s voice drops: ‘You love me, don’t you? After everything I’ve done for you? This is what big brothers and little brothers do when they’re really close. Don’t make me feel alone, Sam. Don’t make me think you don’t need me anymore.’
Sam’s eyes water as he takes more of Dean’s cock down his throat, gagging slightly while Dean groans in pleasure and thrusts.
‘That’s my good baby. Such a perfect little mouth. You’re mine, Sammy. Only mine. And I’ll always protect you… as long as you keep taking care of me like this.’
Yes I hate Megop
Yes I read Megop fics
Yes I repost and like Megop art
Yes I exist😂😂😂😂😂😂
Wdym soldier boy and Mr marathon weren’t long lost brothers and started having hot gay nasty sex?
My prediction for The Boys season 5
Soldier boy:
Sam:
Sam: you look just like my older brother
Soldier boy: does that turn you on?
Sam:
Soldier boy:
Sam: yeah-
The end.
ts better happen like im being so fr son
Honestly I don’t get the hate on Sam like all he’s ever done was be a victim
Long time ago I was thinking about doing commissions but I was like nahhhhh bc I don’t be finishing my art
Then I was like um let me charge a WIP for like a dollar but I probably wouldn’t even open my canvas for that either
NAH RIP MY MANS BRO
Prowl asked Optimus for his due, and he got it. But not in the way he thought.
+without blush
inspired by someone who keeps rabbit as pets says rabbit beg for mercy by licking people
Yoooo
Cybertronian boy 𝔀𝓱𝔂...
Update I’m lowkirkiniely getting better at this
I would say drop some tips but I choose peace🕊️
Please vro imma need that for my cosplay pls
[weecest] & [#1: it happens again] & dubcon
Sam wakes slowly, the way he always does.
He feels it before he sees it. The bed is lower on one side. Someone’s weight is there. Close. Sam’s heart kicks once, hard. He keeps his breathing even, eyes still closed for another few seconds. Then he opens them. The clock is showing 1:47 pm. Dean is sitting on the edge of Sam’s bed, facing away from him, elbows on his knees, staring at the dark television screen. He hasn’t taken his boots off; the laces are still tied.
Minutes pass. Dean finally speaks without turning around. “You walked five miles for yogurt and half a loaf of bread.” Sam’s throat clicks. “Needed to stretch my legs.” Dean huffs. “Right. You’ve been stretching your legs a lot lately. Library till closing. Gone the second Dad leaves. You’re always gone when I’m around.”
Sam shifts, slow and careful, propping himself up on one elbow. The sheets rustle. He pulls his knees up under the blanket. “I’m just trying to stay busy.” Dean turns his head. “Busy avoiding me.” Sam doesn’t answer.
“You think putting space between us will make this go away, turn me back into just your brother,” Dean says softly, “but you can’t really escape, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Sam looks at his hands. He doesn’t know what to say.
“I sat here for twenty minutes before you woke up,” Dean says. Almost softly. “Just watching you breathe. Watching your chest go up and down. Thinking about how easy it would be to slide in behind you. Wrap an arm around your little waist. Press my mouth to the back of your neck. See if you’d tense up or lean back.”
Sam’s breath hitches. Barely audible. Dean keeps going, voice steady.
“I didn’t. Obviously. But I thought about it. A lot.” I think about you a lot.”
Sam stays curled on his side, knees drawn up under the thin motel blanket, eyes fixed on Dean’s profile. His heart is heavy, like it’s trying to sink through the mattress. He should say something. Anything. Push back. Tell Dean to get out. But the room feels too small for that and night too quiet. Instead, he says something quietly, almost a whisper.
“You shouldn’t… think like that.”
Dean’s head tilts slightly, like he’s considering it. Then he shifts, reaches down to the foot of the bed. His hand settles over Sam’s foot through the blanket. Just resting there, warm and heavy. His thumb finds the curve of Sam’s ankle, strokes it lightly, back and forth, a small, absent circle.Sam tenses under the touch. Doesn’t pull away. Can’t, really. The blanket dulls it, makes it feel distant and intimate.
Dean’s voice stays low, casual.
“You know, Sammy… I could just rape you right now.”
Sam’s whole body goes still. Dean’s thumb keeps moving—slow, rhythmic, pressing just enough to feel the bone underneath.
“Door’s locked,” Dean continues, “I don’t know where dad is. No one around to hear if you made noise. I could flip you over, pin those long legs down, strip the blanket off. Take my time. Make it last till morning if I wanted. You’d fight.. maybe.. but we both know I’m stronger.”
Sam’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. His ankle burns under Dean’s thumb, the stroke turning firmer now, possessive. “But I’m not gonna. Not yet.” He gives one last stroke, gentle, then lifts his hand. Stands up slow, the mattress creaking as it rebounds.
“Sleep tight, Sammy.”
Dean crosses to his own bed, drops onto it without another word. Turns his back. Sam lies there, ankle still tingling, staring at the ceiling until the clock flips to 2:00.
Dean watching Sam sleep