#{Nephew}

[xuviec]

uncle sukuna and his nephew !!

[thefty-o]

Arab uncle drains his nephew

Samir yawned and stretched as he got out of bed, his dusky olive skin contrasting against the crisp white of his cotton thobe. At 45, the Lebanese father of three was starting to feel his age. He caught a glimpse of himself in the ornate gilt-framed mirror and sighed. While he'd never been a large man, his formerly lean physique was starting to soften, his stomach rounding out above his sirwal and his arms losing their wiry tone.

"Yallah, I need to start exercising again," he muttered to himself, stroking his neatly trimmed beard.

As he headed to the bathroom, he nearly collided with a wall of tawny muscle. His nephew Tariq, who was staying with them for the summer, loomed in the doorway, his skin gleaming with a sheen of sweat from his morning prayers and calisthenics. The 20-year-old was an absolute Adonis, his tall, powerful frame packed with perfectly sculpted brawn, straining the seams of his sleeveless white thobe. His traditional red and white shemagh was slightly askew, untamed black curls peeking out, framing his striking aquiline features and smoldering dark eyes.

"Sabah al-khair, 'Ammu Samir," Tariq rumbled in his deep, resonant baritone, his voice rich with the musical cadence of Levantine Arabic. "You look like you could use some cardamom coffee to put some pep in your step, old man. I know your constitution isn't what it used to be."

Samir flushed, biting back a retort. "Shukran, but I think I can manage," he said stiffly. It was just good-natured ribbing, he told himself, even as he felt a pang of envy at Tariq's effortless virility. What he wouldn't give for a taste of that youthful power and vigor.

As he brushed past Tariq into the bathroom, their bare arms touched. Instantly, Samir felt a jolt of electricity crackle through him. He gasped, bracing himself against the marble sink as a wave of dizziness washed over him. In the mirror, he swore his reflection was... changing?

Before his eyes, the soft flab melted off his frame. His midsection tightened, hints of abs peeking through the gap in his thobe. His arms and legs regained the lean, wiry musculature of his youth, his biceps filling out the sleeves of his undershirt. His slouched shoulders straightened and broadened, his posture improving to project a newfound confidence. He looked robust, vital, like a man ten years younger.

Tariq suddenly shuddered in the mirror behind him and Samir startled. Was his nephew slouching? Samir could have sworn that he used to be eye level with the boy's plump pecs, but now he was staring right into their center.

"Mashallah, 'Ammu, looking good," Tariq said, clapping a massive paw on Samir's newly sturdy shoulder. "A few months training with me and inshallah, you'll be almost as big and strong as your nephew, eh?"

He threw Samir a wink and sauntered out, his sandaled feet nearly cracking the marble tile with each heavy step. Samir shook his head wryly. Tariq had always been a big boy - clearly took after his father's side. Perhaps with this newfound energy, he would take the young man up on his offer to get back in shape.

...

A few days later, Samir found himself in the makeshift gym in the garage, spotting Tariq as he benched a truly prodigious amount of weight, grunting Arabic encouragements. Tariq's performance was flagging slightly, his reps slower and more labored than last week. He was still monstrously strong, but perhaps not the utterly untouchable mountain of power he'd been before.

As they racked the weights and sat up, Tariq's sweaty arm brushed Samir's... and again, that electric jolt, that head rush. Samir watched in awe as his own arms seemed to swell before his eyes, his biceps and triceps growing, pulsing with vascular striations. His shoulders broadened, stretching his sweat-soaked sleeveless tee. Pectoral muscles barreled out above his tight six-pack, two brawny slabs of beef heaving with new mass.

It was as if he'd gained 20 lbs of muscle on the spot. He looked like he lifted seriously now, his frame dense with carved, powerful sinew and brawn. Tariq, on the other hand, while still unquestionably huge and imposing, seemed slightly... diminished. A little shorter, a tad less impossibly broad and thick. He looked more like the biggest, buffest guy at the mosque now rather than an avatar of masculine perfection.

"Wallahi, 'Ammu!" Tariq exclaimed, a note of surprise and something almost like unease creeping into his usually unflappably cocky tone. "What's your secret? I swear you get bigger by the day!"

Samir just smirked and flexed a bulging bicep, feeling a thrill as he watched his nephew's gaze widen with shock and awe at the size and definition. "Maybe you've been slacking on the halal meat, son," he teased. "Need to get more protein to maintain those gains."

Tariq just laughed, but there was a strained quality to it, his dark eyes flickering with an unsettled light. "We'll see, old man. Race you to the shisha lounge?"

He took off, and if his stride was a bit less than its usual loping, ground-devouring, leg-powered swagger, Samir didn't comment. He followed at an easier pace, enjoying the unfamiliar heft and solidity of his new, enhanced muscles. Something had shifted between them, and they could both feel it.

...

A week later, Samir woke up feeling like a new man. No, like a king, a titan, a conqueror of old. He practically bounded out of bed, 250 lbs of densely packed, heavily striated Arab muscle quivering and flexing with coiled power. He felt invincible, brimming with vitality, virility, and masculine energy straining to be unleashed.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror and had to stifle a shout of triumphant joy. He was magnificent, his tall, heroically proportioned body an anatomy chart of musculature, all broad planes and deep cuts and hulking, vein-streaked brawn. His thobe had ridden up as he slept, exposing a mastodon cock throbbing half-mast against his deeply corrugated abs, a thick, wrist-thick pillar of pride and potency. His heavy balls churned visibly in their overstuffed sack, swollen with seed and the sacred essence of a true alpha.

"Allahu akbar," Samir breathed reverently. He was a living incarnation of the male ideal now, a pinnacle of strength and virility that surpassed any man he had ever known - including, he realized with a dark thrill, his nephew Tariq. He could feel it in his gigantic, steel-cable muscles, his raging monsoon of testosterone-fueled might - he was the dominant one now, the apex predator. Tariq had nothing on him anymore.

As if on cue, there was a tentative knock on the door. "'Ammu Samir?" came Tariq's voice, reedy and thin in contrast to the booming bass Samir remembered. "I, uh, I think there may have been a mixup with our clothes at the laundry. I seem to have shrunk out of a lot of mine somehow..."

"Faddal," Samir called, his voice a low, authoritative rumble that vibrated through his cavernous chest. Enter.

The boy who slunk through the door was barely recognizable as the swaggering erotic demigod of a few weeks ago. Oh, he was still handsome enough in a coltish, pretty boy way, with an athletic swimmer's build, but next to Samir's towering, mega-muscled hypermasculinity he looked downright scrawny. His eyes widened to saucers and his full lips parted in an audible gasp as he took in his uncle's massive, naked body, his gaze immediately drawn to the throbbing log of manflesh sitting heavily atop Samir's deeply ribbed washboard midsection.

"M-Maa shaa' Allah, 'Ammu," Tariq stammered, face flushed, a visible tenting rising in his loose sirwal. "You... what... I mean... Subhan Allah, you're enormous..."

"Alhamdulillah," Samir purred, flexing his planetoid biceps with a low growl of power, his pecs and lats flaring out even wider, his cock jumping and pulsing against his abs. "What's wrong, little one? Never seen a real man before? Intimidated to be in the presence of your true alpha uncle?"

Tariq made a small, choked noise, his eyes glazing over with lust and worship, his lithe body trembling. The boy was clearly in thrall to Samir's extreme muscularity, the raw sexual power and masculinity rolling off him in waves. He looked ready to fall to his knees and service his supreme elder on the spot.

"Don't worry, nephew. You'll have plenty of time to get acquainted with your new place," Samir rumbled, voice thick with sadistic amusement, reaching out to roughly palm Tariq's pretty face with one huge, calloused mitt. "Wallahi, I'm going to enjoy breaking you in. By the time I'm done with this little zakar of yours, you'll be my perfect little eromenos. The only thing that overactive aql of yours will be able to think about is worshipping your 'Ammu's ripped, massive body."

Slowly, almost tenderly, he pushed his thumb into Tariq's slack mouth, making the boy gag and sputter as he forced it in up to the knuckle.

"Shh, shh, just submitted," Samir crooned darkly as Tariq's eyes bulged and watered, weakly trying to pull away. "Salim and accept your place, little one. You're going to become very familiar with parts of 'Ammu much bigger than this."

And with his other hand, he reached down and grabbed the root of his titanically engorged manhood, slowly, almost lovingly smacking his nephew's spit-slick cheek with the girthy, vein-ravaged shaft.

"Mmm, such a pretty little face," he groaned, his voice a low Arabic growl. "Going to look even better stretched around my horse cock. Open up, 'azizi. Your new life as 'Ammu's sharmuta starts now."

And with that, he pulled his thumb out only to replace it with the blunt, leaking head of his inhumanly huge erection, groaning in pure alpha male bliss as he watched his nephew's throat visibly distend and bulge obscenely around his girth.

Oh yes, this was going to be very good indeed, Samir thought as he prepared to orally break in his new fuck toy. And it was only the beginning of Tariq's training to be the perfect submissive receptacle for his dominant alpha seed...

[lttleraceartf1]

How many nephew do you have, Charles ?

[nicxxx5]

y'all need to stop and look at the hat i knitted for my nephew

[one-time-i-dreamt]

The wife of a famous director had her private TikTok account leaked, which lead to said director’s half sister going on Instagram live with her niece and nephew to ask for privacy.

[downydig]

🌷🌷🌷

[multi-fandom-lunatic]

BEGGING the KotLC fandom to realise that it not fun nor cute nor a gag that Grady ships his DAUGHTER and his NEPHEW TOGETHER-

[digthetmansworld]

[pernillemagda]

The cutest thing ever. Magda, her love and her nephew 🥰

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Magdalena Eriksson (@magdalenaeriksson16)

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

My nephew loves watching minecraft videos, but they have given him a very warped view of what the game is actually like. Everything he has experienced has been through the lense of those AI baby-distraction videos of minecraft steve doing tiktok dances or mixing slime with titles like MOST SATISFYING EVER, or those janky fanimations where looney tunes style hijinks ensue. When his mom finally downloaded the game onto her tablet for him to play, he was upset that he didn't begin with armor and tools. He thought it would be multiplayer and that the things that happen in his videos would happen for real ("the iron goblin giveded the king zombie a flower and he sniffed it and was so happy that he jumped a million miles into the air and maked a rainbow come out of him"). He didn't understand that he had to mine and craft, and he would point to every block and ask "is that iron?" No, that's stone. That's also stone. That's more stone. Ask me if you see something different; if the blocks look the same, then they're the same thing.

I really take for granted how many mechanics there are to learn, and how there are no tutorials teaching you how to do ANYTHING! I had to walk him through it step by excruciating step; how to get wood, how to craft planks and a crafting table and sticks and a pickaxe, how to get stone, how to upgrade to better tools, how to dig a staircase, how to lay torches, how to smelt iron ore, it's all so complex and he can't possibly memorize it all. It'll be a very long time before he gets the hang of it, and I just hope he isn't disappointed. I turned it on peaceful mode because he was afraid of the mobs that kept killing him, so he doesn't even know about hunger or combat. He wants to build an iron golem for protection, but he doesnt understand why, it's just a thing that they do in videos.

It's so weird seeing the game through his eyes. Minecraft came out when I was 11 or 12, I started watching minecraft youtubers when I was 15 or 16 and started playing for myself when I was 18 or 19, but my nephew is 5 and he's not watching actual players, he's watching people use the minecraft mobs as action figures to go on make believe adventures. He's using the pocket edition on his mom's tablet, so I can't play with him, I have to either do things for him or be a backseat gamer and give him tips over his shoulder. I think it would be easier to teach him through example in a multiplayer server, preferably on a computer.

[kematian-disreally]

Dawkins and his nephew.

[f4gilicous]

My nephew came in my room begging to watch Blue Lock with me. He’s a 3 year old boy who recently learned how to speak full sentences, and when I say it was the cutest thing ever, I MEAN IT. His favorite character was Bachira, but he also really liked Ego.

Such a cutie

[theoverboardgaygirl]

Dead me vs excited nephew

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was on a motorcycle with Henry Cavill and I told him his nephew was famous. Referring to the "Superman is my uncle" post.

It was an awkward ride.

[itzmaxiel]

Max with his nephew Luca 🥹

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

David Rossi X Trans Nephew Reader

Request:

I love your writing it great and so consistent. could you do one with a 16 year old comes out as trans (Female to male) to their parents and is rejected but Uncle David is there for them and accepts them?

I always love doing transgender readers.

Tw slurs

Third person pov...

"I will not have it She is our daughter!"

"You try telling Her that F/N (Father's name)"

Y/N sobs on his floor hugging his pillow tightly, shoulder shaking he grabs his phone and looks at the time. 30 minutes his parents had been screaming at each other about him.

30 minutes ago, he came out as Trans to his parents, he sat them down in the living room, he had been planning to tell them all year that he was a boy.

After he had told them it was silent, he had hope they would except him, 5 minutes later he was slapped by his father and was being shouted at by both of them.

Their father's scowl deepened, and he stood up, towering over Y/N 'We didn't raise you to be a freak,' he spat, his words like daggers to the boys heart.

Holding his cheek, he ran upstairs and locked his door hoping his father would not follow. "Why why did I have to be different why couldn't I be a girl" cries the distraught teenager.

Hearing more smashing and shouting he has enough, the boy stands on wobbly feet, he looks around at his room and makes a decision.

he starts to grab a bag and begin filling it with clothes, his toothbrush and couple other things he needs.

"That little bitch, she going to try and leave!" yells Y/Ns Father. He has never heard his dad so angry before.

"I have to get out of here" he says to himself before standing on top of his chair and running his hand the top of his wardrobe.

After a few seconds he finds his stash of cash he kept secret from his parents just in case telling them went south, he was right shoving the money into his pocket's Y/N grabs his bags a coat and heads for the window.

Lucky for him his window is large enough to get out of, looking down from the window he felt dizzy at the hight.

"Shit" thinks the H/C boy, he turns back to his room spotting thr pile of clean blankets he begins throwing them out of the window to make a softer landing when he leaves.

Suddenly banging could be heard outside his door. "You little bitch! You come out here right now!" Yells Y/N dad, almost breaking down the door as he slams on it.

Gulping Y/N sits on his window sill and looks down, suddenly their door was forced open. "You tr@nny! Get back here" yells Y/N dad.

Y/N decides and jumps of their window and lands not as hard onto the grass, he grabs his things and begins running away from the house and his parents.

8 hours and 5 minutes later...

Bustling of people wakes Y/N up, when he had left his home he took the bus all the way down to Virginia when his Zio Dave(1) was living.

Once he was off the bus Y/N made his way to the fBI academy where his Uncle works. Getting inside the building was easy getting past reception and up to the floor was difficult especially with the bruise of his face from his dad.

After managing to hide his face and get to the bullpen Y/N relaxed finally, remembered where his Uncle worked, now he had to find the man.

Nervously the boy straightens out his clothes making sure his face was covered he walked into the busy bullpen. He saw many agents walk past him

He then headed for a blind woman, she was standing infront of him, as he walked over he knocked into someone this made Y/N fall backwards his hood falling off.

At the sound the woman turned around, her face turned worried as shebsaw the noticeably large bruise on the young

H/C boys face.

"Honey are you okay?" She asks the boy holding a hand down to him, he flinched slightly at it which confirmed her thoughts.

Y/N hated that he flinched at the hand held out to him, his father's slap this fresh in his mind. As he stood up he saw a man walk into the bullpen.

Eyes full of hope he makes his way towards his zio. "Zio Dave! " Yells the 16 year old, Rossi turns around at the familiar voice of his nephew.

He turned around towards to the voice a smile on his face which turned into one of concern when he saw the large bruise on the boys face.

Grabbing the young boy into a hug Rossi pressed his face into his hair kissing his head and caddling him gently "piccolino, cosa è successo?(2)" Dave asked him.

Pulling away slightly Y/N looks at the man. "Mum and Dad, Uncle they they hate me" cries the boy, Rossi acts and shushs the boy nad hugs his tight letting the boy cry in his arms.

Once he fell asleep Rossi layer him on tjr couch in his officer, the man leaves the room once he knew he was asleep and walked to the round table.

Inside he found the rest of the team all gathered together. Hotch approached the man first. "Who was that Kid Dave?" He asks the senior agent.

Dave sighs softly running a hand down his face as he took a seat, the stress leaving his body. "That's Y/N my nephew and I think he just got hit by his Dad for coming out to him" he semi explained to them drinking the cup of coffee Emily bought for him.

"What do you mean, that he's trans?" Asks Spencer, Rossi nods his head drinking the rest of the drink he stands from the table. "Where are you going?" Asks Morgan.

Rossi stands in the doorway and turns to them a pissed of look on his face. "I've got a phone call to make and probably going to punch my idiota brother in law in the face" he tells them before leaving typing on his phone.

Months later, Y/Ns father was put in prison for child abuse, his mother tried to stop him from testifying. Instead she disowned him and left the state.

Y/N officially became his Uncle's sons and had never been happier or safer as he had before.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshkt, sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Request are open !

Word count: 1133