“Who’s Calling?” Your Husband, Nanami, Huffs From Above You, His Hips Snapping Into You. Your Teary

Creampie o’ clock

୨ৎ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 part of the family !

req ! the jjk men casually callin’ your parents mom and dad <3

ಇ. summary. fem!reader, crack, fluff bc ohmigod, i love these boys.

ಇ. including. gojo, nanami, hakari, yuji, megumi, yuta, toge, choso.

likes n reblogs r appreciated !! 🩷

Baby sister who sits on the floor playing with her toys all cute and innocent while big brother sits next to her stroking his cock. He asks her to stop playing with her dollies and guides her little hand towards his cock instead. She looks down at it with wide but curious eyes and then up at big brother who gives her a reassuring smile. He puts his hand on top of hers to help guiding it up and down his length. He then removes his hand and tells her to stroke it on her own like a big girl. She just nods her little head and starts moving her hand up and down just like big brother instructed. Just a couple strokes in and she makes him cum harder than he’s ever done before. Baby sister watches in awe as her little hand gets covered in his sticky white stuff and he praises her for being such a good girl for making him cum all on her own <3

You age characters up, I age them wayyyy down. We are not the same.

itadori "you're not heavy at all" yuuji

now it’s no secret that this man is incredibly strong. even though his baggy clothes do well to mask his physique, it’s still apparent that he’s fit and toned. and, miraculously,  when the hoodie comes off you’re stuck gaping at the sinews in his biceps. just layers of muscle that’s typically hidden underneath the thickness of his clothes and it’s mind whirring. dizzying. he’s lean– boasting a body fat percentage that’s in the single digits. even without cursed energy, he’s extremely athletic and rivals his most formidable opponents. it’s literally revealed in the first episodes that he can throw a lead ball with enough force to bend a soccer goal post. then he further proves the point by tossing a car over his shoulder in the latest screening. he’s gifted with superhuman strength. so imagine his disbelief when he hears you sheepishly mutter, “I’m too heavy,” when the shoes you’re wearing are uncomfortable and– like the gentleman he is– offers to support you the rest of the way. he genuinely thinks you’re joking at first. playing a prank (a rather unfortunate one) just to make him crack a smile at the exaggeration and easily retort. his brows furrow as he frowns. “heavy? you’re kidding, right?” he huffs, incredulity written on his sharp features and a sound that borders a snort leaves his lips, "you're not heavy at all." but when he glances over at you, awkwardly shifting on your feet, he realizes that you’re serious. and immediately his heart drops. like someone’s ripped it out of his chest and thrown it onto the pavement. yuuji racks his mind for the person that could’ve plagued your self-esteem: a friend? a past lover? what fool would open their mouth and have the audacity to state that? he’ll ruminate about it later– fix what he can now. and gosh, yuuji is perfect at smoothing bandaids over your insecurities. “okay,” he drags a heavy hand down his face and mumbles, “okay. since you wanna listen to the crap that other people say.” before you can react, the blushy haired male has one arm underneath your legs and the other supporting your back. he sweeps you off your feet. literally. it’s a single, fluid motion that shocks you to the point where you’re barely registering his next half-hearted scold, “which isn’t true, by the way!” you’re conscious of the way your legs are dangling in the air and your arms are hurriedly thrown around yuuji. “yuu!” you yelp but he’s laughing at the breathy pitch of your voice. and he’s already striding past crowds of people with you in his arms. he doesn’t break a sweat or even start to breathe heavily because, let’s face it, yuuji’s a strong guy. this is nothing to him; it’s barely a warmup. and it would’ve been swoon-worthy if it wasn’t for the incessant chastising within you. “I’m too heavy for you to carry,” you repeat but he pointedly stares straight ahead. lets his fingers press against your soft skin and is grounded with the weight of you in his arms. and it’s not like he’s brushing off your insecurities. no, yuuji’s listening to them with unconditional compassion. he presses you closer to him so you’re enveloped in his warmth and immediately you recognize the steady beating of his heart. and the next time he speaks, his voice has softened considerably, “why’re talking 'bout my beautiful girl like that?” and while you’re gently cradled in yuuji’s arms, you realize he means you. 

ig credit: ardently_adele

this but it’s incest

"𝐂𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞!"

ft,yuushii totsumoto X sub!fem reader from lady k and the sick man (a hentai😋)

Note: OKAY I DINDT READ THIS MANGA BUT GOODNESS HE IS SO HOT WTF

Cw: breeding kink,praise,size kink,belly bulge

You were just so cute. Always giving him affection after work, being there when he needed. All innocent.

You were just the biggest Cinnamon roll he know. And he always tought that he was so lucky to have you as his pretty little wife.

You were just too cute.

He just wanted to bend you over and pound your little pussy so hard, pumping you full of his babies.

Everytime you welcome him, jumping in his arms and Hugging him so tighly, pressing your breasts against him, pampering him with kiss and sweets you baked when he was at work.

He coulndt bear it.

Oh.

Why would he?

・*:..｡o○☼*ﾟ・*:..｡o○☼*ﾟ・*:..｡o○☼*ﾟ

"Fuck thats my girl..your pussy is Hugging me so tighly god..you suck me in.."

His pounds were so hard, his fat cock making a pretty bulge on your little tummy. Your moan so sweet and melodic.

"y-yuushi! Ngh!"

"Shh..relax baby..youre doing so good..i love you..you just have to take my babies mkay?"

He just wanted to fill you up to the brim, till these pretty legs of yours shake for a entire week. He just wanted to make you a mommy, his pretty little wife and the mom of his kid. Tits Swollen with sweet milk and round tummy with all his babies.

"Fuck yeah- you will be soo pretty with your pretty tits leaking with milk, right? Wanna have my babies? Wanna have my cum? Wanna make me a daddy?"

"Y-yes! Yes pl-please yuu! Need your cum so bad! please!"

"Thats my girl.."

and with that, his thrust quicken pace, heavy balls slapping against your pussy and ass, his tip hitting against your womb with every thrust.

He will not stop till he is sure that youre pregnant with his babies.

Good luck.

♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*

HE IS MAKING ME fucking FERAL LIKE

WHY THE FUCK IS HE SO HOT

Orientation. This is it: your first college tour, your chance to discover if this campus is where you belong. For the first time, Mom isn't hovering nearby; she only agreed because your big brother goes here and swore to keep an eye on you. Your fingers tighten around your backpack straps as you tilt your head back, taking in the imposing brick frat house where he's waiting.

Big bro greets you at the door with a grin and a quick, strong hug. "Hey, kiddo! You made it. How’s my little sis holding up?"

"Tired," you admit, forcing a smile. "It’s a lot, you know? Being here."

He slings an arm around your shoulders, guiding you inside. "You’ll get used to it. Oh, and we're hosting a party here tonight. You're going to love it — trust me."

"A party?" Your voice wavers. Crowds aren’t your thing. Back home, you’re the shy one, more comfortable with books than booze. “I don’t know. I won’t know anyone.”

"Don’t sweat it. I’ll be right there with you. It’s the perfect way to dip your toes into college life," he says, his tone reassuring but firm. You nod, trusting him like always. He’s your big brother, after all — your protector.

———

Hours later, you’re in the thick of it. The frat house is a chaotic swirl of noise and bodies. Music thumps through the walls, a bassline that rattles your bones. The air is heavy with the sour tang of spilt beer, the musk of sweat, and a cloying hint of cheap perfume. People dance in tight clusters, some grinding shamelessly, while others shout over red cups or lock lips in shadowy corners. You hover near your brother, clutching a soda that’s gone flat, feeling like a deer in headlights.

"You okay?" he asks, leaning close so you can hear him over the din. His eyes scan you from head to toe, noticing how your fingers tremble.

"Yeah, just… nervous," you confess, biting your lip.

He smirks, grabbing a red cup from a nearby table. "Here, try this. It’s just punch — nothing crazy. It’ll loosen you up."

You hesitate, then take it. The first sip is sweet, fruity, with a subtle burn that warms your throat. It’s not bad. You drink more, and your brother keeps the refills coming. "Have fun, sis," he says, pressing another cup into your hand. "You’re too tense."

One drink becomes two, then three, then five. The room tilts, and your laughter bubbles up too loud, too sloppy. You sway on your feet, gripping your big brother's arm to stay upright. The lights blur into halos, and your tongue feels thick when you try to speak.

“Bro I… I think I’m drunk,” you slur, giggling as you stumble into him.

He steadies you, his hands firm on your waist. "Whoa, lightweight. You’re wasted. Come on, let’s get you sobered up." He turns to a group of his buddies nearby, all frat guys with cocky grins. "Hey, I’m taking her upstairs to chill. She’s had too much."

They laugh, one of them clapping him on the shoulder. "Good luck, man. Don’t let her throw up on you."

Your brother rolls his eyes, guiding you toward the stairs. You lean into him, trusting his strength, his warmth. He’s taking care of you, like always. The steps are a blur, and then you’re in a dimly lit bedroom. A single lamp flickers in the corner, casting long shadows over an unmade bed with rumpled sheets. He eases you onto the mattress, and you flop back, the ceiling spinning above you.

"Feel any better?" he asks, sitting beside you. His voice is different somehow, you barely recognize it.

“Kinda, just a little overwhelmed,” you mumble, closing your eyes. The bed dips as he shifts closer, and then you feel it — his hand pressed against your thigh.

"You know all those guys down there are dying to talk to you?" his fingers inching higher as he speaks. "You just need something to help you calm down."

Your eyes snap open, confusion cutting through the fog. "Bro? What’re you—"

"Shh," he soothes, leaning over you. His breath brushes your cheek. “Just relax, sis. No one’s gonna know. I'm just warming you up.”

His lips crash against yours, hard and hungry. You freeze, your brain screaming that this is wrong — he’s your brother. You push at his chest, but your arms are weak, heavy from the alcohol, and he doesn’t budge. “Bro, stop,” you whisper, voice shaking.

"Hush," he says, kissing your neck, his stubble scraping your skin. "Quiet, or someone might hear." His hands roam, unbuttoning your shirt, exposing your bra. You squirm, but he's just so much bigger than you. There's not much you can do other than take it.

"See? You want this," he teases, sliding a hand under your skirt. His fingers find you through your panties, and you’re mortified to realize you’re wet. "Now stop being so dramatic."

“No, I—” you start, but he cuts you off with another kiss, deeper this time, his tongue invading your mouth. He tugs your panties aside, stroking you until you’re gasping, your protests dissolving into moans. It’s wrong, so wrong, but the alcohol blurs the edges, and his touch feels too good to fight.

He pulls back just long enough to remove his clothes, then the rest of yours, leaving you bare beneath him. "Gonna fuck you now, little sis," he laughs, unbuckling his jeans. “Consider it part of your orientation.”

You should scream, run, do something, but you don’t. You can’t. When he pushes into you, it’s overwhelming — stretching you, filling you, a sharp ache melting into pleasure. You cry out, and he clamps a hand over your mouth. "I said quiet!" he hisses, thrusting slow and deep. "Don’t want anyone walking in on you getting fucked by your big bro, do you?"

The rhythm builds, his hips snapping against yours, and slowly you lose yourself in it. The slick friction, the filthy thrill of his words. "See, isn't it better when you just relax" he groans, gripping your hips.

Suddenly, the door creaks open. A guy stumbles in — tipsy, bumbling. “Hey, I was — oh, nice!” the guy stares, eyes wide as he takes in the scene: you sprawled out on the bed, getting pinned down and pounded.

"Get the fuck out," your brother snaps, not missing a beat. "This slut’s mine."

The guy blinks, shocked. “Alright man, calm down...”

"I said out!" he roars, and the guy scrambles back, the door slamming shut. His words echo in your head — this slut’s mine — and it does something to you. A fresh wave of arousal floods you, your cunt clenching around him.

"You like that, don’t you?" he taunts, thrusting harder. "Me owning you like this?"

"Yes," you gasp, the confession spilling out. "It was fucking hot"

He starts pounding into you with new intensity. Your legs wrap around him, pulling him deeper, and the room fills with the sounds of skin on skin, your stifled moans, his ragged breaths. The pressure keeps building as you tremble beneath him.

"I-I think I'm gonna cum bro..." you whimper, clinging to him.

"Me too, sis." he grunts, driving into you one last time. Your body arches, a scream caught in your throat as he covers your mouth with his fist. He follows, spilling inside you with a low, guttural moan, his weight collapsing onto you.

He rolls off, pulling you against his chest. You’re sticky, sore, and reeling, but his arms feel safe, even now.

"What did we do?" you whisper, shame creeping in alongside the afterglow.

"I told you sis, orientation," he says, kissing your forehead. "Our secret. No one needs to know.”