Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Do you have rules? if so what are they? (so I know when i ask)
what rules? I mean... rules about what?
If you mean about requesting, the requestor should be specific with the character they want me to write (like cuntboy or omega or femboy or anyone). And I only wrote bottom male character x top male reader. And i don't write fanfiction cuz I've never watched anime or movie since I spend a half of my life sleeping. That's my rules, i guess?
Requested, Top!male reader, shy cuntboy hybrid cow, seme harem, SMUT, nsfw, no plot? breasts on male, blowjob, fingering.
A few days pass in a haze of chores and stolen glances, the farm's rhythm pulling you deeper into its grasp. Thorne's been hovering like a storm cloud, his touches lingering longer each time, but this morning, he announces he's heading to the city for supplies—something about feed orders and vet checks. His eyes narrow as he corners you in the kitchen, the door shut tight against the world outside. "Before I go, you owe me," he growls, stripping his shirt without waiting for protest. His breasts hang heavy, veins pulsing under the skin, nipples already leaking in anticipation, milk beading and dripping onto the worn floorboards. "Dry me out. All of it."
You freeze as his hand clamps your wrist, guiding it to one swollen globe. The warmth seeps through your fingers as you squeeze, milk jetting in hot streams that soak your palm, his low moan vibrating through the room. "That's it—harder." He doesn't stop there; jeans hit the floor next, revealing his slick, plump folds. "Finger me too. Make it count." Reluctance wars with the heat building in your gut, but you slide two digits into his cunt, walls clenching greedily around you, juices coating your knuckles as you pump in rhythm with the milking. He bucks against your hand, tail thrashing, moans turning to desperate grunts.
Then Thorne shoves you back onto the table, climbing astride your hips, yanking your pants open to free your hardening cock. "Been waitin' since you ran, tall one. No escapin' now." He sinks down, pussy swallowing you whole in one slick plunge, inner muscles rippling as he starts bouncing, breasts slapping against his chest with each rise and fall. Milk sprays wildly, splattering your shirt, your face, as he rides you relentlessly, hips grinding to take every inch. You grip his thighs, thrusting up to meet him, the wet slap of skin echoing until your balls tighten, cum flooding his depths in thick ropes. He milks you dry, cunt spasming around you until you're spent, limp and panting beneath him.
Finally, he lifts off, cum leaking down his thighs, and leans in close, breath hot against your ear. "I'll be back soon. Gonna drain you again—fill me up till I'm overflowin' with your seed. You're mine now." His voice drips possession, eyes locked on yours like a brand. You gulp, words stuck in your throat as the door rattles—tiny bleats and giggles from the baby hybrids outside, drawn by the noise. Thorne smirks, pulling on his clothes, but you scramble up, heart pounding, and fling the door open. The little ones swarm you, fluffy tails wagging, climbing your legs with playful nudges. You scoop them up one by one, burying your face in their soft fur to hide the flush, whispering hurried thanks as you bolt out, leaving Thorne behind.
He watches from the window, jaw set, fists clenched. Mine, he vows silently, gaze burning into your retreating form until the barn swallows you. Won't let you slip away again.
The babies wriggle free as you reach the yard, scampering off with delighted squeals toward a shadowed corner of the fence. There, half-hidden by stacked crates, a figure emerges—another hybrid, slighter than Thorne, with soft brown fur, floppy ears, and small horns curling back shyly. His tail curling around his leg as he kneels to gather the runaways, chuckling softly while they nuzzle his sides. He startles when he spots you, cheeks flushing deep crimson under the fur, ears pinning flat as he averts his eyes.
But you're all cheer, waving with that easy grin. "Hey, looks like you've got your hands full there. Need a hand?" His tension eases, shoulders dropping, and he nods with a tentative smile, passing you one of the giggling tots. Over the next few days, Nolan, you learns later, sticks to the edges—quiet amid the louder hybrids—but it's you he drifts toward, murmuring about feed schedules or fence repairs, his voice soft but steady when it's just the two of you. He feels safe with you.
One night, after tucking the babies into their straw nests, you find Nolan lingering in the dim lamplight of the loft, fidgeting with his shirt hem. He's flushed again, deeper than usual, ears twitching as he avoids your gaze. "Everything alright?" you ask, leaning against a beam, concern lacing your tone.
He hesitates, biting his lip, then blurts it out in a rush. "I… I'm not great with the others. They all got these big… you know, chests and… down there. Mine are kinda... small. No one really notices me." Confusion hits you—his body's lithe but inviting, curves subtle yet real—but you cheer him up quick, clapping his shoulder. "Hey, size ain't everything. You're you, and that's plenty." His eyes widen, flush spreading to his neck, and he leans closer, voice dropping. "No one's ever… milked me. From here." He cups his chest tentatively, breasts modest swells under the fabric, nipples poking through. "Please? I trust you. Need it so bad."
His face crumples, on the verge of tears, and refusal sticks in your throat. "Alright... c'mere." You guide him to sit between your legs, his back pressing to your chest, shirt lifted to bare pale skin and those perky tits—not huge like Thorne's, but firm and sensitive, areolas wide and pink. Drawing on the reluctant skill from those shed lessons, you cup them gently at first, thumbs rolling over nipples that harden instantly, a few drops of milk welling up. Nolan moans, loud and needy despite his shyness, arching into your touch. "More—please, Ngh... squeeze harder." You oblige, kneading with steady pulls, milk flowing in thin streams down his belly, his body trembling as begs spill from his lips.
His ass grinds back against your crotch, the friction stirring your cock despite your focus on just helping. You ignore it, hands working his breasts until he's panting, but he twists suddenly. "C-claim me, hah... Take my virginity—I only want you. No one else." Refusal surges—"Nolan, we can't"—but he pleads, turning to fumble with your belt, small hands freeing your thickening shaft. Surprise jolts you, a groan escaping as he strokes, then leans down to wrap his lips around the head, tongue swirling tentatively.
Instinct takes over; you thrust shallow at first, then deeper, cock sliding past his gag to bulge his throat, making him gasp and choke wetly around you. Your free hand dips lower, fingers parting his tight, small pussy—virgin folds slick and quivering—plunging in to curl against that spot inside. He cums hard, body seizing, cunt gushing over your knuckles while he sucks sloppily, tears streaking his cheeks from the depth.
He's rising, eyes glazed, positioning to sink onto you, but giggles echo from the ladder— the babies, stirring awake. Panic flashes; you gently shove him aside, tucking yourself away with a guilty wince. "Not now—can't let them see." You scoop the little ones up, herding them out with rushed play, leaving Nolan sprawled, chest heaving, milk and arousal staining the hay. He's left aching, body thrumming unsatisfied, but gratitude shines in his eyes as you glance back—finally touched, finally seen. "Maybe later..."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Hey! Could you write a story with enemies to lovers trope, arranged marriage between two kingdoms. Bratty tsundere Prince Edin(or any name!) x Patient Prince reader
Thank you so much for the name cuz that's what all I need when I write a story!
I'll write the story after I'm done with every request!
What if you and your enemy were forced to married each other but there's some plot twist...?
Requested, Top!male prince reader, tsudere prince character, childhood friends to enemies, enemies to lovers?, SMUT, nsfw.
The sun hung low over the jagged peaks separating the kingdoms of Eldoria and Vespera, casting long shadows that mirrored the tension brewing between the two realms. For generations, Eldoria's rolling hills and Vespera's misty forests had been at odds—border skirmishes, trade embargoes, whispers of outright war. But now, with both kings aging and heirless save for their only sons, desperation clawed at the thrones. Peace through alliance was the only path, and that meant marriage.
Prince Edin of Vespera was a storm in human form: sharp-tongued, with raven hair that fell in defiant waves and emerald eyes that sparked like flint. He was the kingdom's bratty heir, hiding a vulnerability beneath layers of tsundere bluster. Across the divide, in Eldoria, was you—Prince [Your Name], patient and steady as the ancient oaks of your homeland, with a calm demeanor that masked the fire you'd inherited from your warrior father.
The declaration came like thunder. Kings and councils gathered in the neutral hall of the border citadel. "With no daughters and heirs dwindling," your father announced, voice grave, "the only sons of Eldoria and Vespera shall wed. This union will bind our blood and end the threat of war."
Edin's heart slammed against his ribs. Married? To you? He schooled his face into a scowl, slamming his fist on the table. "This is absurd! I refuse to chain myself to an Eldorian dog!"
You echoed his refusal, though yours was measured. "Father, this alliance is wise, but forcing hearts… it breeds resentment." But the kings were immovable. War loomed otherwise, and neither realm could afford it.
Well... that wasn't the first time you met him. when you both was just kiddo, you guys used to be close friends. But for some reason, You guys' friendship was broken. And now, you guys met again and it would be strange if one of you accepted this marriage.
In the days before the wedding, you and Edin met in secret—not out of alliance, but mutual desperation. Hidden in the citadel's forgotten cellars, torches flickering on stone walls, you plotted sabotage. "We spike the wine with a sleeping draught," Edin hissed, his green eyes flashing. "The priests collapse mid-vows, and the marriage crumbles."
You nodded, though hatred simmered beneath your calm. "Or we stage a border raid—blame it on rebels, force a postponement." Despite the loathing from years past, there was an electric undercurrent, old memories flickering like ghosts.
But fate—or perhaps watchful guards—thwarted you. The wine was tasted by a suspicious steward; the 'raid' uncovered as a decoy. Dragged to the altar in ceremonial robes, you stood side by side before the assembled nobles. Edin's hand trembled in yours as the priest bound your wrists with silken cords. "I… I do," he muttered through gritted teeth, cheeks burning. You echoed the words, resigned. The kiss was perfunctory—a brush of lips that sent unwelcome sparks through you both. And just like that, you were wed.
Life in the shared palace—a grand structure straddling the border—became a battlefield of petty wars. Breakfasts dissolved into arguments over the blandness of Eldorian porridge versus Vesperan spiced oats. "You're impossible," you'd sigh as Edin flung a spoon across the table, sauce splattering your sleeve.
"Tch, as if your kingdom's slop is any better!" he'd retort, but his eyes lingered on the way your shirt clung to your chest, jealousy twisting when a maid giggled at your polite thanks for mending it.
Fights escalated. One evening, over the placement of a tapestry—Eldorian eagles clashing with Vesperan wolves—you shoved back from the council table. "It's a symbol of unity, Edin! Stop being a child."
"Unity? With you? I'd rather burn it!" His voice cracked, born of that old confusion resurfacing. He hated how your presence stirred him, how he'd watch you spar with knights, muscles flexing, and burn with envy at their camaraderie.
No one intervened. Servants scattered like leaves in a gale; even the kings, visiting for inspections, averted their eyes. "Let the princes settle it," they'd mutter. "The marriage holds; that's what matters."
The worst came after a feast honoring the union. A Vesperan knight, bold with wine, clapped your shoulder and boasted of old battles. Edin, across the hall, seethed silently—Why do you smile at them like that? Later, in your chambers, it erupted.
"You fawn over those fools!" he yelled, pacing like a caged wolf. "As if I'm not enough—wait, not that I care! I hate you!"
You rubbed your temples, patience fraying. "Edin, it's nothing. You're overreacting." But he pressed, words tumbling out in a torrent of confusion: accusations of disloyalty, hints of deeper hurt masked as rage.
"What's the point?" you finally snapped, standing to leave. "Talking to a brat like you is pointless." You stormed out, slamming the door, heart heavy with exhaustion.
He stood there, fists clenched, the silence deafening. Hours later, as you sat by the window overlooking the united lands, a soft knock came. "Hey," Edin's voice filtered through, muffled. You ignored it, staring at the stars.
The next morning, he was there at breakfast, sliding a plate of your favorite Eldorian fruits toward you. "Eat. Don't starve yourself over… whatever." You glanced away, but he persisted, day after day—gruff apologies disguised as commands, lingering touches when passing goblets.
One night, after another squabble over patrol routes, the dam broke. You yielded first again, retreating to the balcony for air. Edin followed, his usual bravado cracked. "Wait. I… I didn't mean it."
You turned, arms crossed. "Then what do you mean, Edin? We've been at this for months."
He swallowed, stepping closer, the moonlight silvering his features. "Since we were kids… you helped me. No one else would. And I pushed you away because… because it scared me. Feeling this way about an enemy." His voice dropped. "But it's not hate. It's… you. I've loved you since that day in the woods. The marriage? I was thrilled. Terrified, but thrilled. You're going to be my husband—mine—and I can't stand seeing you with anyone else!"
Jealousy colored his confession, raw and vulnerable. Your breath caught, pieces falling into place: the hidden glances, the initiations after fights, the grumpy barbs hiding affection.
Tentatively, you reached out, cupping his face. "Edin… I never hated you. Not really. And I've felt something too, buried under all this."
His eyes widened, then softened. He leaned in, lips meeting yours—not the forced wedding peck, but a real kiss, hungry and tender. Hands roamed, pulling you closer, the enmity melting into passion. In the quiet of your chambers, enemies became lovers, the kingdoms' fragile peace mirrored in the steady rhythm of your hearts.
From then on, fights lingered—old habits die hard—but you guys ended in laughter, in touches that spoke louder than words. Edin's fire tempered by your patience, forging a love as unbreakable as the alliance it sealed.
(First time meeting and Extra, and 🔞)
Your first encounter with Edin came years earlier, during a rare truce summit when you were both boys, barely ten summers old. He had wandered too far from the guarded pavilion, chasing a stray hawk into the underbrush. Thorns snagged his fine cloak, and a hidden root sent him tumbling into a ravine. You heard his curses—sharp even then—and found him dangling from a ledge, his small hands slipping on the mossy rock. Without hesitation, you extended a rope from your own scouting gear, pulling him up inch by inch. "Why help me?" he spat, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, as you dusted dirt from his shoulders. "We're enemies." You shrugged, offering a steady gaze. "Enemies don't let kids fall to their deaths." From that day, he sought you out in secret during those fragile truces—asking for stories of Vespera's stars, sharing stolen sweets from Eldoria's kitchens. You obliged, patient as ever, unaware of the quiet affection blooming in his chest. For weeks after, in secret letters smuggled by birds, you'd check on him, offering advice on everything from swordplay to stargazing. He grumbled in replies but always wrote back, a secret friendship blooming in the shadows.
But adolescence twisted those threads. At sixteen, Edin confronted you during a hunt, his voice cracking with unspoken turmoil. "You think you're so noble, always watching me like that?" he snarled, shoving you against a tree after you'd corrected his sloppy archery form. Confusion swirled in his eyes—feelings he couldn't name, a pull toward you that terrified him amid the kingdoms' hatred. You pushed back gently, confused by his outburst. "What's this about, Edin? I was just helping." His punch landed soft on your arm, but the words cut deep: "Stay away from me, Eldorian scum." Hurt and bewildered, you stood, dusting off your clothes. "If that's how you feel, fine!" From then on, the letters stopped. You became strangers again The enmity solidified then, a wall he built to hide the ache of wanting what he feared.
Years passed, and the boys became men. Edin grew into a bratty force, his tsundere barbs hiding a heart that raced at your name. When the marriage edict arrived—proclaimed in grand halls to cheering crowds—he froze in the throne room, pulse thundering. Married? To him? The realization hit like a revelation—the boyish confusion had been love, all along. He's going to be my husband. Mine. Joy surged through him, hot and fierce as he realized those childhood pangs were love, deep and unyielding. But your steady eyes met his across the divide during the announcement feast, and panic surged. He couldn't bear that gaze stripping him bare. So he chooled his face into a scowl and sneered, slamming his goblet down. "Marry him? I'd sooner wed a dragon."
You echoed the refusal, voice calm but firm. "This union mocks our kingdoms' pride." In private, amid the opulent guest chambers, you two plotted sabotage. "We feign illness during the ceremony," he suggested, pacing like a caged wolf, his proximity stirring an unwelcome heat in you both. "Or swap vows with insults." You nodded, outlining escape routes through the palace sewers. He watched you speak, heart twisting—why refuse me?—and nearly cracked, eyes glistening as he turned away to hide the sting. "Fine, let's ruin it," he muttered, voice thick.
Fate, or perhaps the kings' unyielding guards, foiled the plans. The ceremony proceeded under heavy watch, rings exchanged amid forced smiles and seething glares. Vows bound you as husbands, the alliance sealed with a kiss that was all teeth and tension. Crowds cheered the peace, oblivious to the storm brewing in your shared chambers.
Married life ignited like dry tinder. Petty squabbles erupted daily—Edin mocking your Vesperan tea as 'swill' while you sighed at his endless complaints about the bed's firmness. "It's not that lumpy, Your Highness," you'd retort mildly, only for him to huff and fling a pillow. Fights escalated: a shattered vase over whose banner hung higher, a shouting match in the courtyard when he accused you of flirting with a knight (you'd only asked for directions). Servants scattered, kings turning blind eyes—no one dared intervene between the fragile peace's anchors.
One evening, the argument peaked. Edin stormed into your solar, face twisted. "You spoke to that maid again—laughing like she matters!" Jealousy, raw and unspoken, fueled his rage; he'd watched you from afar, gut churning at every casual word. You stood patient as stone. "It was nothing, Edin. You're being ridiculous." He lunged, words flying like arrows: "Ridiculous? You're mine now—act like it!" You parried verbally, but as his voice rose to a fever, exhaustion won. What's the point with this brat? You turned away, shoulders slumping. "Enough. I'm done tonight." He faltered, always the one to circle back first, muttering apologies disguised as barbs the next morning, though you ignored them, the rift widening.
Nights blurred into a tense routine, his hidden love festering into sharper jabs, your patience a shield against the chaos. He envied every knight you trained with, every servant who earned your nod—they don't deserve your eyes on them.
Then came the night that shattered the facade. It was after you guys confessed ech other. Moonlight filtered through the chamber's arched windows as Edin slipped in, a decanter in hand, cheeks flushed from 'wine' he'd barely sipped. He swayed dramatically toward your bed, where you read by candlelight. "Husband~," he slurred, the word dripping mockery, "can't sleep without... company." You set the book aside, wary. "Edin, you're drunk. Go rest."
He laughed, sharp and false, stumbling closer until his knee brushed yours. "Drunk enough to want you." His hands fumbled at your shirt, bold in pretense. You caught his wrists, firm but gentle. "Stop. This isn't you." Frustration flashed in his eyes—why resist when I need you?—and in a blur, he twisted free, producing silken cords from his pocket (meant for the bed's canopy). "If you won't," he growled, shoving you back and binding your wrists to the headboard with surprising speed, "I will."
You tugged against the restraints, heart pounding. "Edin, untie me. We can't—" But he straddled your hips, grinding down with a needy whimper, his robe falling open to reveal smooth, heated skin. "Shut up and let me." His fingers worked your trousers open, freeing your cock—already half-hard from the friction despite your protests. He stroked it roughly, eyes dark with hunger. "See? You want this too." Before you could argue, he lifted himself, positioning your tip at his entrance. Slick from his own hurried preparation, he sank down inch by inch, a gasp tearing from his throat as your length stretched him.
"T-Too... Hah! Too big... ngh!," he hissed, bottoming out with a shudder, his walls clenching around you. He rode you then, hips snapping in erratic rhythm, chasing friction. "Fuck... Y-yes! deeper, Husband!" You groaned, hips bucking involuntarily as pleasure coiled tight. His bratty facade cracked, moans spilling free—raw, desperate. He came first, spilling over your chest with a cry, body convulsing, but he didn't stop. "More," he demanded, grinding through the aftershocks, his release slicking the way. You groaned, "Untie me..." He shook his head, "NO! You'll run away and—"
"Just UNTIE me. I'm... still not done."
Panting, he leaned forward, untying your wrists with trembling hands. "Don't... don't stop now." Freed, you flipped him onto his back, patience giving way to instinct. You thrust in deep, setting a punishing pace, his legs wrapping around your waist. "Like that?" you murmured, voice rough. He nodded frantically, nails digging into your shoulders. "Harder and... please call me Wife!! Ah! Hngh!!" You obliged, pounding into him, the bed creaking under the force. "Go on, my wife... cum for me. Let me see how much you enjoy it." With that, he came again, untouched, cum streaking his abdomen as his cock twitched against his belly.
You pulled out, flipping him to his knees. "On all fours, wife." He complied eagerly, arching his back, ass presented. You entered him from behind, one hand gripping his hip, the other fisting his hair to pull his head back. "So needy," you growled, slamming in, balls slapping against him. He pushed back, meeting every thrust, babbling incoherently. "Yours—I'm yours, A-AHH!!!" His third orgasm hit like a wave, body seizing as he clenched around you, milking your cock until you followed, spilling deep inside with a guttural moan.
Not sated, you maneuvered him again—onto his side, leg hooked over your arm for deeper access. Slow at first, building to frantic snaps, his hand jerking his spent cock back to hardness. "Again—please." You fucked him through another peak, his cum splattering the sheets, then yours mixing with it as you filled him once more.
Exhausted, you collapsed together, his body limp and marked—reddened skin, bite marks on his neck. He curled into you, pretense gone, whispering, "I love you... always have." In the quiet, enmity dissolved, leaving only the lovers you'd been destined to become.
Bonus
There's one thing he's been thinking of. it's been months since... he hadn't have a memorable with you! You were too busy with your work so you didn't had much time for him. He couldn't let it happen. But he knew himself that he would rather die than being the first one to speak of having a lovely night with his beloved you. I have to seduce him. And he tried.
The seductions started innocently enough—a lingering touch during a dance at a midwinter ball, his fingers trailing down your back. "Don't get ideas," he'd snap if you raised an eyebrow, but his blush gave him away. Come on, come on. Notice this, idiot. And you noticed. Someone's is needy, huh? Why not have some fun? You thought then your shrugged, "Not planning to anyway." you said while trying not to laugh at his grumpy reaction as you turned away.
By spring's thaw, Edin's advances grew bolder. In the blooming gardens, he'd 'accidentally' pin you against a trellis while reaching for a flower, his body pressing close. "You're in my way," he'd mutter, but his hips ground subtly against yours, his breath hitching. You felt the heat of his arousal through his breeches, but you held back, "I don't think so. Well, sorry then. I'm going to the library, see ya." You move away, just letting him chase. "This is getting fun," you grinned at yourself as you thought.
"Why do you resist?" he demanded one afternoon in the stables, after a ride left you both muddied and breathless. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you into an empty stall. His lips hovered near yours, eyes dark with need. "I know you want this." You searched his face, seeing the desperation beneath the grumpy mask. "Do I?" you teased lightly, but your voice was steady, not yet yielding.
He kissed you then, fierce and demanding, his tongue invading your mouth as he shoved you against the wooden wall. Hands roamed—his fingers digging into your hips, yours instinctively gripping his waist. He broke away, panting. "Idiot. You're mine." But you pulled back, heart pounding. "Nah-uh. Not yet, Edin. Still have work to do." Then, you walked away as usual after giving a pat on his head. He stomped, "This work, that work. Stupid idiot!"
Summer brought festivals and feasts, and Edin's seductions intensified. He'd slip into your chambers at night, clad only in a loose shirt, claiming insomnia. "Just to talk," he'd say, but soon he'd be straddling your lap, grinding down with a whine. "Touch me. Please." His cock strained against the fabric, hard and leaking as he rutted against your thigh. "Mmh...? seem like someone is achieving his goal directly." You'd indulge partially—stroking him through his clothes, feeling him shudder and gasp—but always stopping short, drawing out his frustration.
"You're cruel," he'd hiss, cum staining his breeches after a frantic handjob you'd given him, his body arching as he spilled over your fingers. But his eyes shone with adoration, the grumpy prince utterly smitten. "M-More..." And you shook your head as you just kissed his forehead. "Sleep now. I still have paperwork." He groaned but listened to his husband anyway. And you know that didn't mean that he gave up.
It was during the harvest moon festival. As you watched him laugh with courtiers, a surge of jealousy hit you. You knew that it was noting but you couldn't help but feel possessive of your little husband. Fine... Tonight is the night. That night, you dragged him to your rooms, slamming the door.
"What—?" he started, but you silenced him with a bruising kiss, backing him onto the bed. Your hands tore at his clothes, exposing his lithe body—pale skin marked by faint scars from old duels, his cock already twitching to life. Well, it wasn't your fault! You'd been holding back yourself just to tease him. But everything have limit, right? :)
"You're mine," you growled, the patient prince no more. You flipped him onto his stomach, spreading his legs. He gasped as your tongue delved between his cheeks, licking at his tight hole, wet and insistent. "Ahh! Y-yes," he moaned, pushing back, his bratty demeanor shattered.
You worked him open with fingers slicked by spit, curling them to hit that spot that made him cry out. "More... please, Ngh! H-Husband!." When you finally thrust your cock inside him, it was raw and deep, no barriers. He clenched around you, walls hot and velvety, as you fucked him steadily, possessively.
"No one else touches you," you panted, gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, pounding into his ass with relentless strokes. He sobbed in pleasure, cock leaking onto the sheets as you reached around to jerk him off in time with your thrusts.
"Only you! Fuck, only you! Hnghh!!" Edin wailed, coming undone as you filled him with your cum, hot spurts painting his insides. You collapsed together, "Prepare for this cuz I'm going to fuck you every single night..." your arms wrapping around him like a vice—possessive, devoted. Edin could only nodded as he fell asleep with a smile in your arms, he finally got what he wanted.
From enemies bound by duty to lovers forged in fire, your union strengthened the kingdoms. Edin had seduced you first, but your fall was total, binding him to you forever in passion's unyielding grip.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
hello ik requests are close but I wanted to know what you're ok with writing and what you don't write
It's fine, mate. What you ask is even not a request so I won't mind answering 😉
I like writing cuntboy characters x male reader cuz I think it's kinda rare. And also omegaverse but I will only write sub omega characters or dom omega characters x reader. Also Power bottom male characters x reader! And Yandere bottom male characters x top male reader is my favourite 🤤. I write gaint sub/dom male bottom x small sub/dom top male reader too.
Let's just say I write bottom male characters x top male reader.
I don't write female x male cuz I'm a 100% gay ever since I was born so if someone had requested me to write about it, I would immediately delete it. And top characters x bottom male reader cuz there's too many posts about it and I'm not comfortable with it. What I would never write is characters x female reader, I think you would know why 😌
Top sugar daddy reader, cuntboy sugar baby character, hybrid bunny character, SMUT, nsfw, age difference?
You stepped out into the chill of the snowy night, your large house loomed behind you, its windows glowing warmly against the dark, but inside, it felt as empty as always. Lighting a cigarette, you inhaled deeply, the smoke curling up to mix with the falling snow. Your life was a monotonous blur of wealth and isolation—money that could buy empires, yet it couldn't spark even a flicker of desire in you. Admirers came and went, men and women alike, drawn to your youthful face and sharp features, but you dismissed them all. Asexual, you figured, since your body rarely stirred, no matter the temptation.
That's when you spotted the huddled figure in the snowdrift near your driveway. At first, it looked human, curled tight against the wind, but as you approached, ears twitched atop a mop of disheveled white hair—rabbit ears, frost-kissed and trembling. A hybrid bunny boy, young and fragile, his small body shivering uncontrollably under threadbare clothes. His furred tail peeked out, matted with ice. You felt sympathy; you couldn't leave him there. Scooping him up gently, his slight weight barely a burden, you carried him inside and laid him on your king-sized bed and wrap him in blankets.
After a while, His ears twitched faintly as consciousness returned. He blinked up at the unfamiliar ceiling, until his gaze shifted to the certain figure. Those wide, amber eyes locked onto you first—fear flickering there as he took in you, still the stranger for him, reading quietly in the armchair nearby. You looked up from your book and adjusted your glasses, book in hand as if this were just another quiet evening.
He bolted upright, ears flattening against his head, but you didn't move, just glanced up with a soft smile. "Easy," you said, voice low and steady. "You're safe here." His gaze darted over you—your strong jaw, the way your shirt hugged your broad shoulders, and the thing he very aware of? The gentleness in your eyes, something in him lingered, curiosity mixing with caution.
Words tumbled out of him in stammers, his voice soft and hesitant. 'W-where... I mean, th-thank you? I... I don't..." You set the book aside, leaning forward slightly but keeping your distance. "It's okay. And I'm just someone who saw you freezing out there. Brought you in to warm up. No strings," answering his fragmented questions without prying. Then you introduced yourself, and as you asked what his name was, "I... I d-don't have one, really. J-just... surviving." His ears flattened against his head, cheeks flushing under the fur as he avoided your eyes. You just nodded as you skipped too personal questions and had some small talks instead since you wanted him to feel comfortable although you didn't know why..
As minutes turned to an hour, his shoulders relaxed, the tension easing from his frame. He sat cross-legged on the bed now, blankets draped around him like a cape, his long ears perking up occasionally as he listened to your easy chatter about the house, the snow, anything neutral. "...yeah, that's how things are. Anyway, where's your place? I could give you a lift." Then, with a sad droop of his ears, he admitted, "I… I don't have anywhere to go. No home."
Your heart twisted, well... not with lust, but a genuine ache for company in this vast, echoing space. "Stay here, then," you offered. "As long as you need. Whatever you want—food, clothes, anything. It's just me rattling around in this big place. Wouldn't mind the company." He blinked, mouth opening to protest, but you smiled—that charming, insistent curve of your lips that made your eyes crinkle. "Really. I'd like it." So... what if he stole? You wouldn't mind it since money was like water to spend for you.
He nodded slowly, almost against his will, a shy flush creeping under his fur. From that night on, you took care of him. Bathed him gently in the oversized tub, the warm water soothing his chilled skin as you washed away the grime without a hint of expectation. Dried his soft fur with plush towels, his body lean and unmarked, ears twitching at your careful touches. You cooked simple meals—steaming soups and fresh veggies that made his eyes light up, "Eat up. No rush." and watched him eat with quiet satisfaction.
Naming him came naturally one evening, as he lounged on the couch in new clothes you'd bought: soft sweaters that hugged his slim form, pants that fit just right over his tail. "How about we call you Theo? Short for Theodore—means 'gift from God.' Fits, doesn't it? You showing up here like that." you suggested, testing it out. He tilted his head, ears flopping cutely, then smiled—a real one, timid but genuine. "Theo… Yeah, I like it. Thank you very much!"
Days blurred into a routine of nurturing. You'd find him curled up in sunbeams filtering through the windows, and you'd bring him hot cocoa, sitting nearby to read while he sipped. Gentle interactions built the trust: a hand on his shoulder when he startled at a noise, your fingers lingering just enough to reassure. He warmed to you, leaning into your side during movie nights, his head resting against your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat. You felt a shift in yourself too—that low spark of interest flickering to life, in the way his presence filled the house with soft sounds and shy laughs.
Nights? As the wind howled outside, Theo ventured into the living room where you sat by the fire, remote in your hand as you were watching TV.
"C-can't sleep," Theo admitted, hovering in the doorway, his bare feet shifting on the rug. He wore one of your old shirts now, too big for his slender frame, hanging off his shoulders and brushing his thighs. The fabric smelled like you—clean, with a hint of cologne that made Theo's nose twitch.
You looked up, patting the couch beside you. "C'mere. Let's get you nice and warm." Theo hesitated, then padded over, sinking into the cushions. You didn't press, just handed him the remote so he could change through channel, fingers brushing lightly in the exchange. The touch was electric, innocent yet stirring something deep in Theo's core—a warmth that spread from his chest downward, unfamiliar and insistent. Then you guys talked in fits and starts. Theo shared bits of his life on the streets, the cold nights, the hunger, his words tumbling out less stuttered as you listened without interruption. In return, you spoke of your own quiet existence—the wealth that bought solitude rather than joy, the admirers who never quite reached you. "Thought life was so boring, you know? Like the world’s stuck on repeat. Until... well, having you here changes things. Makes the house feel alive."
Theo's ears lifted slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "R-really? I don't w-want to be a burden."
"Never," you murmured. You shifted closer, not touching, but near enough that Theo could feel the heat radiating from your body. The firelight danced over your face, the way your glasses caught the glow from the television.
As weeks continued, the care deepened. You would draw a bath for Theo after a day of exploring the house, the steam rising in the marble bathroom as you lingered just outside the door. "Need anything? Towels are fresh." Theo would sink into the water, ears floating slightly, his body relaxing under the suds. But thoughts of you—those steady hands, that charming smile—would make his skin tingle, a subtle ache building between his legs, his most sensitive area twitching faintly for the first time in memory.
One afternoon, as snow tapped against the panes, Theo approached you in the study, ears perked nervously. "Thank you… for everything," he whispered, standing close enough that you could smell the faint, clean scent of him. You looked up from your desk and smile. "Anytime, Theo. You're home now." And in that moment, with his hand brushing yours, the big house felt a little less empty.
-
-
-
Years slipped by in your sprawling home, the snows of that first night long melted into memory. Theo had blossomed under your care, his once-timid frame filling out into the lithe, adult form of a young man—spoiled, yes, but in the best way. You didn't mind the way he'd pout for new clothes or demand your attention during lazy afternoons; seeing him smile, his rabbit ears perking with joy, lit a warmth in your chest you'd never known before. He was like your son, this hybrid bunny you'd rescued, and that bond kept any deeper urges buried deep. Yap, That's what you insisted :)
Yet, doubts nagged at you over time. His chest had rounded out, soft swells pressing against his shirts. Probably just thicker fur, you told yourself, hybrids varied like that. Not that you wanted to see it but you'd never glimpsed his cock, not in all the years of shared baths or casual lounging! As a kit, you just assumed it was hidden in his soft underfur, maybe um... too small to notice, yeah... But as he grew, the way he yanked up those tight pants without a wince, or crossed his legs hard during movie nights without complaint, puzzled you. It almost hurt to watch, a phantom ache you swallowed down, Ouch... that must be hurt, but never voicing your questions. He was your boy; prying felt wrong. You always pushed the impossible thoughts aside as his voice and strength were clearly a male's.
"Daddy." He winced one afternoon while shopping together with you. As you looked at him, he grinned and looped his arm around yours, "Can I buy that?" He pointed eagerly toward the toy shop. You glanced over, then shrugged casually as you pulled some money from your wallet. "Here you go. Buy whatever you want." He clapped his hands as he took the money and leaned up and gave you a peck on your cheek. "Thank you, Daddy!" Then he went into the shop. Of course, you waited nearby, hands tucked into your pockets as you watched people pass by—couples walking side by side, families with kids tugging excitedly at their parents’ sleeves, laughter drifting through the busy hallway. If I could love someone with all of my heart... You sighed.
After a while, a very soft texture touched your cheek. You blinked in confused and looked. Only to see Theo holding two plushie: a bunny one and another similar to you. "Look what I've got! Us!!" He smiled widely as he held up the plushies front of your face, "That's amazing, you have such a good sight, Theo." You smiled as you pat his head. "I love it when you praise me, Daddy..." He glanced up at you through his eyelashes and he was... flushing? Nah... must be cuz of the weather. You chuckled as you pinched his cheek, "Don't be this spoiled, boy. And stop being all cute to make me want to spoil you more." He whined as soon as you pulled back your hand, "Ouch! It's not my fault that I'm naturally adorable... Hmph!" He pouted and crossed his arms, which caused him to be even like a kiddo in your eyes, "Hahah, yeah yeah. It's just my fault that I find you cute. Well... let's go home before dinner." You gently grabbed his wrist and walked towards the exit, not noticing him smiling cuz of your every words that described him. How he love being spoiled to make you see him cute... maybe someone more than just someone you helped, he thought.
One crisp evening, you returned home earlier than usual, the weight of a long workday lifting as you shrugged off your coat. The house felt too quiet—no patter of feet or eager greeting at the door. "Theo?" you called, voice echoing off the high ceilings. No answer. You moved through the rooms, "I'm back!" checking the kitchen, "Where are you, Theo!" and the living area, until a faint, musky scent drifted from upstairs—sweet and urgent, like wildflowers crushed underfoot. It pulled you to his bedroom door, slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling out.
You knocked softly, respecting his space as always. "Theo? Everything okay?" Only a low whine answered, needy and strained, twisting your gut with worry. "I'm coming in," you announced, pushing the door open. The sight hit you like a punch: Theo sprawled naked on his bed, sheets tangled around his ankles, his pale skin slick with sweat. His white furred ears twitched erratically, tail thumping against the mattress. Flushed from ears to tail, he writhed, thighs parted, one hand buried between his legs. But it wasn't a cock he touched—it was a glistening cunt, pink and swollen, folds dripping with arousal as his fingers circled his clit desperately.
Shock froze you. Don't tell me that he is in heat... You'd read about female bunny hybrids entering heat, cycles of insatiable need, but males? Impossible! Yet here he was, panting and moaning, hips bucking into his own touch. And that explained everything—the hidden anatomy, the lack of bulge, the ease in his movements. Your mind reeled, but concern overrode it all. You rushed to his side, dropping to your knees beside the bed. "Theo! What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
His amber eyes snapped to yours, glazed with lust, pupils blown wide. He yanked his hand free, slick fingers glistening, and reached for you instead. "D-Daddy… Ngh, please," he whimpered, voice breaking on a moan. 'It hurts… so hot inside. Need something inside... need you… Hngh!' The words slammed into you, raw and begging. Is he literally begging you to breed him!? Your cock twitched in your pants as memories flooded back—late nights alone, hand wrapped around your shaft, stroking to thoughts of his soft body pressed to yours. But fucking him? You'd fantasized about it in the darkest corners of your mind, imagining sinking into him, claiming what no one else had.
"No, Theo," you rasped, even as your gaze dipped to his exposed pussy, lips parted and weeping. "You... you're like my son… I can't. We need to um... get you help, a doctor or—" But he arched off the bed, ears flopping back, and crawled toward you on all fours, tail wiggling. His nipples hard peaks, and he rubbed against your thigh like a cat in heat, grinding his wet slit along your slacks. "Please, Daddy... I-I've wanted this forever. Touch me… fuck me. I'm yours." His hands fumbled at your belt, desperation in every tug, and when his lips brushed your crotch, inhaling your scent, your resolve cracked. And with a groan, you gave in, what would be wrong with this when it was mutual :)
You lift up by his chin and crushed your mouth to his. He tasted sweet, like honeyed desperation, tongue tangling with yours as you stripped off your shirt. Your hands roamed his body—finally, freely—cupping those soft tits you'd dismissed as fur, thumbs rolling his nipples until he keened. "You seem very sensitive... Virgin perhaps?" you murmured against his neck, nipping the furred skin. He smelled like vanilla and fresh strawberries, a scent that always made your cock twitch. He nodded frantically, grinding his cunt against your thigh. "Only for you." That did it. You shoved him back onto the pillows, shedding your pants, your cock springing free—thick and hard for the first time in years, pre-cum beading at the tip.
You spread his legs wide, kneeling between them, and dragged your tongue along his slit in one long lick. He bucked, crying out as you lapped at his folds, sucking his clit into your mouth. "A-AH! Daddy! T-Too much but... Hngh! Yes!" His juices coated your chin, tangy and addictive, as you plunged two fingers inside—tight, so fucking tight, walls clenching like a vice. He came fast, the first orgasm ripping through him, pussy spasming as he squirted onto your hand, ears trembling.
Not enough. You flipped him onto his stomach, ass up, tail quivering. "Gonna breed this little cunt," you growled, aligning your cock and thrusting in deep. "AhH! too big... Mmh! too good!" He screamed in pleasure, virgin barrier giving way as you bottomed out, balls slapping his furred thighs. You fucked him rough, hips snapping, one hand fisting his ears while the other pinched his clit. He came again, harder, milking your shaft until you couldn't hold back—pulling out to flip him over, shoving back in missionary to watch his face as you pumped rope after rope of cum into his womb. "Take it, boy. All of it."
The night blurred into rounds. You took him against the headboard, his legs wrapped around your waist as you pounded in deep, his tits bouncing with each thrust. He rode you next, sinking onto your cock reverse cowgirl, grinding his ass back while you slapped it red. Orgasms tore through him—three, four, more—his pussy gushing each time, soaking the sheets. You bent him over the dresser, fucking him from behind while he watched in the mirror, tears of ecstasy streaming down his face. By dawn, you'd filled him thrice, cum leaking from his stretched hole, and he collapsed against you, spent and sated, heat finally easing.
Morning light filtered in, and Theo stirred shyly in your arms, cheeks pink as he nuzzled your chest. "I… I've fantasized about you for years," he admitted softly, fingers tracing your jaw. "Being yours like this. Spoiled and fucked." You smiled, pulling him closer, your cock already stirring at the thought. "Then that's what you'll get. My goldie bunny." From then on, it was official: days of pampering, feeding him treats and cuddling on the couch, his head in your lap as you stroked his ears. Nights? You wrecked him—tying his wrists to breed him slow and deep, or pinning him down to rut like animals, his begs echoing through the house. He clung openly now, spoiled rotten, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
Bonus (cuz I can't stop my dirty mind anymore!!)
You pull up to the luxurious penthouse in your sleek black car, the city lights twinkling below like stars. It's been a long day at the office, but the thought of your Theo waiting for you melts away the stress. He's been your sugar baby for months now. You've got to notice more about him, the way his long floppy ears twitch at every sound and the way his fluffy white tail wags when he's excited. He's all yours, utterly devoted.
As the elevator dings open to your floor, you step inside and spot him immediately. Theo bounces over from the couch, he is wrapped in a skimpy pink lingerie set you bought him last week. The lace barely covers his perky chest, and the thong rides high on his hips, accentuating the curve of his ass. His bunny ears perk up straight, and he lets out a delighted squeak, launching himself into your arms.
"Daddy! You're home!" he chirps, nuzzling his face into your neck. You wrap your arms around his waist and pull him close. "Missed you, bunny," you murmur, your hands sliding down to squeeze his plush cheeks. He giggles, grinding his hips against your growing bulge. "I made dinner, but… I think I want dessert first."
You chuckle, carrying him effortlessly to the bedroom. The king-sized bed is piled high with pillows and blankets, just how he likes it—cozy and nest-like. You lay him down gently, but he tugs at your shirt, his big doe eyes sparkling with mischief. "Take it off, Daddy. I want to feel you."
You oblige, stripping off your clothes while he watches, biting his lip. Your cock springs free, hard and throbbing, already leaking pre-cum at the sight of him. Theo crawls forward on all fours, his tail wiggling, and kneels before you. He wraps his small hands around your shaft, stroking slowly, his tongue darting out to lick the tip.
"Mmm, you taste so good," he whispers, before taking you into his mouth. His lips stretch around your girth as he bobs his head, sucking eagerly. You groan, threading your fingers through his soft hair, careful not to tug his ears too hard as he's sensitive there. He hums around you, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure up your spine. Saliva drips down his chin as he takes you deeper, gagging slightly but pushing on, his eyes watering with effort.
"That's my good bunny," you praise, and he preens, his tail fluffing up. You can't wait any longer. Pulling him off with a wet pop, you guide him back onto the bed. he spreads his legs wide, revealing his slick pussy, already glistening with arousal. The sight makes your mouth water.
You dive in, lapping at his folds with broad strokes of your tongue. Theo moans, his hips bucking up as you suck on his t-dick, flicking it with the tip of your tongue. "N-Ngh... Daddy! R-right there!" His thighs quiver around your neck, soft fur tickling your cheeks, trapping your head. You slide two fingers inside him, curling them to hit that spot that makes her cry out. He's so wet and tight, clenching around you as you pump them in and out.
He comes undone quickly, his body arching off the bed, a high-pitched whine escaping his lips as his pussy spasms. Juices flood your mouth, and you drink him down, loving every drop. As he trembles through the aftershocks, you climb up his body, positioning your cock at his entrance.
"Mmh... yes, Daddy. F-fuck me," he begs, his ears flopping back while glancing up at you through his eyelashes. Oh, that gaze... You thrust in slowly, savoring the way his walls grip you like a vice. He's perfect—hot, velvety, made for you. Once you're buried to the hilt, you start moving, rolling your hips in a steady rhythm.
Lila wraps his legs around your waist, his nails digging into your back as he meets every thrust. "Ah! Ah! Haa! H-Harder! I need you sooooo... deep!!" You oblige, pounding into him with more force, the bed creaking under you. His breasts bounce with each slap of skin on skin, and you lean down to capture a nipple in your mouth, sucking hard while you fuck him senseless.
The room fills with his moans and your grunts, the wet sounds of your cock sliding in and out of his pussy. He clenches around you, chasing another orgasm, and you feel your own building, balls tightening. "Cum with me, bunny. Argh! Show me how much you love my dick. Show Daddy how much you enjoy getting fucked," you growl, reaching between you to rub his t-dick.
He shatters first, screaming your name as his pussy milks you. The sensation pushes you over the edge, and you bury yourself deep, flooding him with hot spurts of cum. You both collapse in a sweaty, satisfied heap, his ears twitching lazily against your chest.
"I love you, Daddy," he murmurs sleepily, cuddling closer. You kiss the top of his head, stroking his tail.
"Love you too, my perfect little bunny." The night is young, and you already know you'll spoil him even more every tomorrow. Before you fall asleep, there's a sight before you that makes you smile: two plushies on the nightstand, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, as if they themselves were radiating calm and contentment.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Requested, Top!male reader, yandere cuntboy hybrid cow, seme harem, SMUT, nsfw, breasts on male, not for everyone.
SORRY FOR THE WAIT :')
The barn door slammed shut in your mind's eye, the hybrids' wide eyes burning into you as everything blurred.
You jolted awake in the guest bed, sheets tangled around your legs, heart hammering like you'd run a marathon. Sweat slicked your skin, and for a moment, you swore you could still smell that musky mix of milk and hay. But it was just a dream—had to be. The farm tour, the hunt, the injury… all twisted into some feverish nightmare after too many late nights in the city. Still, it left a knot in your gut, a weird trauma that made your skin crawl whenever you thought about those impossible creatures.
Your grandfather recovered quick enough, hobbling out of the hospital after a week with a cast and a gruff laugh. You stuck around just long enough to help out, but the village felt off after that—too quiet, stares lingering a beat too long. The second he was back on his feet, you mumbled excuses about work and bolted, tires kicking up dust as you fled back to the city lights. That dream haunted you for years, popping up in quiet moments, making you question your sanity. Hybrids? Plump cunts and leaking tits on cow-men? Ridiculous! But the image stuck, fueling a buried curiosity you shoved down deep.
Fast forward a decade. You're pushing thirty now, still tall and broad-shouldered, but the carefree cheer has dulled under the weight of desk jobs and dead-end gigs. Then the call comes: your grandfather's gone. Heart attack in his sleep, peaceful but sudden. The lawyer's letter arrives a week later—the farm's yours. All of it. "He always said you were the one to carry it on," the note reads. But there's a postscript that chills you: 'He mentioned you might know more about the stock than most. Take care of them like family.'
Your stomach drops. Did he find out? The hybrids must've spilled— if they were real. The dream floods back, vivid and accusing. You pace your cramped apartment, torn. Sell it? Walk away from the ghosts? But that pull… the what-if of it all. Life with those things—those cuntboys, their bodies built for milking and more. Hesitation wars with a dark hunger you can't name. Fuck it. You can't refuse. Not entirely. You'll check it out, see the place one last time, then decide.
You're en route for a work trip—some sales pitch in the next state over—when the old sedan gives out. You drove along the familiar road, already missed your grandpa and the farm, trying to forget certain memories of course. Middle of nowhere, just past the state line, engine sputtering to a halt on a deserted stretch of highway flanked by endless fields. You pop the hood, cursing under your breath as you poke at wires and belts, you hunched awkwardly over the grimy parts. Nothing. Sweat beads on your forehead in the late afternoon heat, and as the sun dips, you slump against the car, resigning yourself to a night under the stars—or worse, a long hike to who-knows-where.
Headlights pierce the dusk, a rumble growing closer. A battered pickup truck pulls up, gravel crunching under its tires. The driver steps out, and even in the fading light, he's a sight—muscular build straining against a flannel shirt, arms like coiled ropes, broad shoulders that scream farm-hardened strength. But something's off about his chest: it swells out full and heavy, like… breasts? Nah, must be shadows or your eyes playing tricks after staring at the engine too long. He tips his worn hat in greeting, a easy smile cracking his stubbled jaw. "Need a hand there, mate?"
His voice hits you like a half-remembered echo, deep and warm, tugging at the edges of your memory. You straighten up, towering over him still, but he doesn't flinch. "Yeah, uh, thanks. Car just died on me. Name's—" You trail off as he chuckles, waving it away.
"I know who you are. Long time, boss." Boss? The word nags, but you shake it off, doubting yourself. City life blurred a lot of faces. He rolls up his sleeves—veins bulging along forearms dusted with faint, patterned fur—and dives in, tools clinking from his truck bed. You try first, wrenching at bolts with failed grunts, but he watches patient, then takes over. "Let me see. Been fixin' rigs like this my whole life."
Minutes stretch as he probes the engine, flashlight beam cutting through the gloom. You lean in close, shoulder brushing his, catching a whiff of that same musky scent from your dream—hay, earth, and something sweeter. "Hmm... Looks like the fuel line's clogged bad, maybe from old gas. Engine's flooded too. We could patch it temporary, but it'll act up again." He straightens, wiping grease on his jeans, those chest swells shifting noticeably under the shirt. Your eyes linger a second too long, pulse quickening. "Best bet's to tow her to the farm. Got a full shop there, proper tools. Won't take long."
The farm.... Your farm? It clicks slow, then all at once—the location, the familiarity in his gaze. "Wait, which farm?" you ask, voice rougher than intended.
He grins wider, reaching up to tug off his hat. Dark hair tumbles free, framing curved horns that curl back from his temples, fluffy ears twitching atop his head. And there, unmistakable: a tail swishing behind him, peeking from under his shirt tail. His face—older, sharper, but those same wide eyes from the barn, the one who'd stepped forward first. The hybrid cow-man, cuntboy, argh... whatever the hell he was. Muscles honed from years of labor, but that body… heavy breasts pressing against the flannel now, nipples faintly outlined, a hint of dampness where milk might've started to bead. Between his legs, the jeans hug thick thighs and the subtle mound of a plump pussy, no doubt juicy and waiting.
Shock roots you to the spot, the dream crashing into reality. "You… from the barn. That wasn't—" He nods, expression softening with recognition and something hotter, needier.
"Yap, it was real. Your Gramps knew you peeked as one of us told him. Told us to keep quiet, but you ran scared. Been waitin' for you to come back ever since he passed. Name's Thorne, by the way. Let's get your ride hitched, plenty of time to catch up at the farm!" He claps your shoulder, his touch electric, sending a jolt straight to your core. As he hooks up the tow chain, you stare, the trauma twisting into reluctant want. Life with them… yeah, you were gonna find out.
-
The truck rumbles to a stop in front of the old farmhouse, the engine cutting off with a sigh that mirrors your own. Dust settles around you as Thorne unhooks the tow chain, his horns catching the golden hour light, tail flicking idly. The place hasn't changed much—peeling white paint on the house, the windmill creaking lazily, fields stretching out like they did in your memories. But you're not the teen who bolted anymore. You're the owner now, keys heavy in your pocket, that mix of dread and pull twisting in your chest like barbed wire. Trauma from the barn lingers, a shadow that makes your palms sweat, but curiosity keeps you rooted. Yeah, you are still you, still that nosy teen :)
Thorne slaps your shoulder again, firmer this time. "Get settled. I'll handle the car in the shop, then we can talk shop." He nods toward the house, his eyes lingering on your broad frame a beat too long before he heads off toward the garage, muscles flexing under that flannel. You watch him go, then wander the grounds, boots crunching gravel. The air's thick with earth and faint sweetness, stirring echoes of that dream-turned-reality. Everything's the same yet sharper, the isolation pressing in like it did back then.
Your feet carry you toward the barn before you can stop them—the forbidden one, door still weathered and padlocked, though the chain's loose now. Hesitation claws at you, heart thudding, but you twist the key from your pocket, the lock clicking open with a rusty groan. The door swings in, hinges protesting, and there they are. Not the startled group from years ago, but grown, bodies matured into lush, hybrid perfection. A shy one in the corner, ears drooping as he peeks from behind a hay bale, his massive breasts heaving with nervous breaths, nipples dark and already beading milk. Nearby, a big intimate type lounges against a stall, thighs spread wide to reveal his plump pussy lips glistening, tail swishing slow like an invitation, his chest so full it sways with every shift.
A playful one bounces closer first, horns small and curly, grinning with mischief as he circles you, fluffy ears perked, and his dripping slit that winks invitingly. The cute one tilts his head, batting lashes over wide eyes, plump ass jiggling as he steps forward, milk trickling down his furred belly. A grumpy sort crosses his arms under heavy tits, snorting through flared nostrils, but even he edges nearer, pussy clenching visibly under his jeans. The sassy one flips his tail, hips cocked, breasts bouncing as he quips something teasing, his scent—musky arousal—hitting you hard. And in the back, a cluster of baby hybrids, smaller and softer, with downy fur and innocent eyes, tumbling over each other like puppies, their tiny pussies untouched but already hinting at the curves to come.
They notice you all at once, murmurs rippling through the group, eyes lighting up with recognition and curiosity. "It's him!" the playful one whispers, reaching out to brush your arm. The intimate one stands, pussy leaking a trail down his thigh as he closes in, breasts brushing your chest. Too close, too fast—their heat enveloping you, scents mingling into a heady fog that stirs your cock despite the panic rising. You back up a step, mouth dry, fumbling for an excuse. "I-uh, just checking in, gotta—"
A strong hand clamps your elbow—Thorne, materializing like a shadow, his grip iron but voice smooth. "Easy now, guys. Don't crowd the boss. Wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable." His smile's polite, teeth flashing, but it somehow doesn't touch his eyes... The hybrids pause, ears twitching, a few stepping back with disappointed whines, though the sassy one smirks and the grumpy one huffs. Thorne tugs you toward the door, firm enough you can't resist without a scene. "C'mon, let's get you rested up." You manage a quick wave—"See you around"—before he's pulling you out, the door thudding shut behind.
He marches you to the house, that old keyring jangling, and ushers you inside. The place smells of aged wood and faint pipe tobacco—Grandpa's ghost everywhere. "Kitchen's stocked, bed's yours. Take it easy; farm life's no rush." His gaze rakes over you again, lingering on your arms, before he tips his hat and vanishes outside. You collapse onto the creaky bed, mind reeling. Yet... Little do you know, Thorne's history with you runs deeper.
That night years ago, when you snuck in, wide-eyed and frozen? He was the one who cornered you first, voice low as he questioned your stares, your flushed face. "You're not the old man... Who are you?" he'd murmured, stepping close enough his leaking tits brushed your shirt. You bolted, but he watched from the shadows after, memorizing your scent, your build. You seem... unharmful and kind as he could see that in your eyes. When you fled the village without a word? Frustration boiled in him—no name, no chance to claim what sparked in those eyes. He hounded Grandpa relentlessly: "Who's the city boy? When's he back?" Obsession festering, protective and raw. Now? You're here. His. He won't let you slip away again.
Days blur into farm routine, Thorne glued to your side under the guise of teaching. He shows you the fields, how to mend fences, his body brushing yours 'accidentally'—thigh against thigh, arm grazing your back. You catch him staring at your muscles as you haul bales, sweat sheening your tall frame, his tail twitching with hunger. He glares daggers at the others: a sharp look when the playful one tosses you a wink during lunch, a low growl if the cute one lingers too long by the trough, their hands brushing yours. Seduction's subtle at first—Thorne leaning in close during lessons, breath hot on your neck, his heavy breasts pressing into your side as he 'adjusts' your grip on a tool. "Strong hands, bigger than mine~" he murmurs, voice husky. You brush it off, trauma whispering warnings, or ignore the heat pooling in your gut.
Weeks in, he snaps—patience frayed. One dusty afternoon, after a long morning in the pastures, he grabs your wrist mid-stride. "C'mere. Need to show you somethin' important." You follow, thinking irrigation or feed, into a secluded shed behind the barn, door clicking shut. The air's thick, shadowed. Thorne turns, eyes burning, and strips without preamble—flannel dropping, jeans kicked aside. His body bares: muscular chest swelling into those massive, milk-heavy breasts, nipples erect and dripping white rivulets down his furred torso. Below, his thick cock twitches above plump pussy lips, already slick and swollen, tail lashing. "Time you learned your first time milking proper," he says, voice desperate, stepping close to press those tits against your chest. "Touch me. I know you wanted to."
Trauma surges—flashes of that barn, the shock, the flight—but his breasts mesmerize, so full, so warm, milk scent intoxicating. You resist at first, hands hovering. "Thorne, I-I... can't. Not like this. I-uh..." But he guides your palms, moaning soft as your fingers sink into the soft flesh, thumbs circling nipples. "Yes… just like that. Good boy." His praise hits deep, confidence blooming despite the knot in your throat. You squeeze firmer, milk squirting in warm arcs onto your shirt, his moans escalating—loud, needy, echoing off the walls as his pussy clenches visibly, juices dripping down his thighs, "K-Keep goin- Hngh!" You milk him properly now, hands working rhythmically, pulling and kneading until his body shudders, milk sprays everywhere as his cunt spasms, soaking the floor. He cums hard just from your touch, head thrown back, horns scraping the beam above.
Panting, he reaches for you, eyes wild. "P-please, been waitin' years- Ngh! F-Fuck m—" But giggles erupt outside, tiny feet pattering. The baby hybrids burst in, tumbling around your legs with playful bleats, nuzzling your knees, their soft bodies oblivious. Panic flashes—you yank back like lightning, your head screaming not to get caught, cock throbbing but ignored. "Hey, little ones!" you say too brightly, dropping to scoop one up, tickling his fluffy ears as he giggles, another climbing your back. You'd rather die than explain this to innocents, though your body aches to dive back into Thorne, finish what ignited.
Thorne watches, frustrated, milk still leaking, pussy twitching with unspent need. He pulls on his clothes, jaw tight, but his eyes promise more—dark and unyielding. "We'll continue this lesson later," he growls low, just for you, as you play with the babies and walked away, heart racing. He leaves wanting, but determined. You're not going anywhere.
