#desperate bottom

(ONE SHOT)

What happens when a cuntboy pirate captures a beautiful siren, you, and become too obsessed with you?

Top!male siren reader, reader has two dicks, yan! cuntboy pirate, power bottom? SMUT, nsfw, breeding, public claiming.

The Capture on Stormy Seas

The salty spray of the ocean whipped across the deck of the Black Serpent as Captain Thorne's ship cut through the raging waves. Thorne, the most notorious pirate on these cursed waters, stood at the helm, his dark tan skin glistening under the storm's fury. Scars crisscrossed his muscular arms and broad chest, hidden beneath the loose white shirt and heavy coat of his pirate garb. His black breeches concealed the secrets of his body—those heavy, huge breasts that strained against fabric when aroused, the plump juicy cunt that ached for touch, throbbed with need, and the big round ass that jiggled with every commanding stride. He was a force of nature, No one dared question the feared captain; they only followed, trembling at his cocky grin and assertive bark.

Below the waves, you swam freely, your siren tail slicing through the depths with effortless grace. Unlike your kin, who lured sailors to their deaths with merciless glee, you felt a pull toward humans—a curiosity, a care that had branded you an outcast. Your group had shunned you for sparing lives, for watching ships pass without the fatal song. But solitude suited you; it left room for your own desires. And you were no ordinary siren—handsome features, sharp jawline framed by flowing hair, and captivating eyes that shimmered like sea glass, made you a vision even among sirens, and a secret: the ability to shift your tail into legs when the mood struck. Tonight, hunger drove you closer to the surface, toward the lights of that looming ship.

That mood struck when Thorne's nets plunged into the sea. You could have sung them to sleep, could have torn the ropes with your strength, but something in the captain's distant silhouette intrigued you. Rough, powerful, commanding. The net hauled you aboard, water cascading from your form as rough hands secured you to the deck. Crewmen jeered, but Thorne silenced them with a glare.

Thorne's boots thudded closer. His dark eyes locked onto you, and something ignited—a feral obsession that twisted his scarred lips into a possessive smirk. "Well, well," he growled, voice rough as gravel, circling you like prey. "A siren, caught in my waters. And not just any—look at you, handsome devil. You're mine now." He knelt, fingers gripping your chin, tilting your face up. The crew averted their eyes, knowing better than to challenge their captain's claim.

You met his gaze, unflinching, your caring nature warring with caution. This pirate reeked of danger, but there was a vulnerability in his stare, hidden behind the confidence. "Let me go," you said, voice melodic yet firm. 'I mean no harm.'

He laughed, low and cocky, a sound that sent shivers through his men. He hauled you up by the arms, pressing you against the mast. "Harm? Oh, beauty, you'll be the one enchanting me to ruin." Without another word, he dragged you below deck to his cabin, slamming the door shut. The obsession burned hotter; he couldn't tear his eyes away, already imagining marking you as his.

The crew watched, but Thorne didn't care. He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. "Name's Thorne. And you... you're my siren now." He bit your neck lightly, marking you with teeth that promised more.

Days blurred into a haze of captivity turned captivation. Thorne's obsession grew feral. He had you chained in his quarters at first, but soon the chains loosened as he tested your temperament. You didn't lash out; instead, you talked with him late into the night, legs shifted to human form so you could sit at his table, sharing stories of the deep. He listened, enraptured, his cocky grin fading into something hungrier.

One evening, as the ship rocked gently, Thorne burst into the cabin, eyes wild. "Saw you on deck today, legs like a man's but body like a god's." He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing more scars—souvenirs from battles won with blade and fist. "You're too damn captivating. Can't stop thinking about worshipping you."

You stood, towering slightly over him in your shifted form, your two cocks already stirring beneath the loose fabric Thorne had given you. "And if I take what I want instead?"

His breath hitched, confidence cracking into submission. "Try me."

Thorne shoved you against the wooden wall, his body pressing close, heat radiating through his clothes. "I've plundered treasures from kings, but you... you're the only one I want to keep chained." His hands roamed, assertive and unyielding, stripping the remnants of seaweed from your skin. You could have fought—your siren strength was no myth—but his intensity stirred something in you, a dominant urge to turn the tables.

Pushing back, you flipped him onto the bunk, your transformed legs straddling his hips. "Chained? We'll see who binds who." Your hands tore at his shirt, revealing the hidden glory: those heavy huge breasts, full and milky, nipples hardening under your gaze. Thorne's breath hitched, his cocky facade cracking into submissive need. "F-Fuck, touch me," he demanded, but his voice wavered, eyes pleading.

You groped them roughly, squeezing the soft flesh until beads of milk leaked from his dark nipples. He arched, moaning loud enough for the crew to hear, not caring—thriving on it. Your fingers dipped lower, yanking open his breeches to expose the plump juicy cunt, no cock for him, just that tight, aching hole framed by dark curls, begging to be filled, already slick and swollen, lips parting invitingly. His big round ass clenched as you palmed it, the jiggle sending a thrill through you.

"Obsessed already, Captain?" you teased, your own arousal surging. Between your legs, your unique siren gift stirred—two thick cocks emerging, hard and veined, one curving slightly, the other straight and throbbing.

"Two? Gods, you'll ruin me." Thorne's eyes widened, then darkened with hunger. "You know what?—take me, both of you." He spread his legs wide, assertive possessiveness melting into eager submission as you positioned yourself.

You thrust the first cock into his plump juicy cunt, stretching the tight walls that clenched greedily around you. "A-Ah! So full—your cocks splitting me open!" He gasped, Thorne's hands gripped your shoulders, nails digging in, but he yielded, hips bucking up to meet your rhythm, those heavy breasts bouncing with the motion. Milk dribbled down his scarred chest as you leaned in, sucking a nipple hard, drawing out more of the sweet fluid while pounding deeper.

Not satisfied, you angled the second cock against his ass, the big round cheeks parting as you pushed in slow, savoring the resistance giving way. Double penetration filled him completely—cunt and ass stuffed, your cocks rubbing against each other through the thin barrier inside him. Thorne cried out, voice breaking into a submissive whine. "H-Harder—fuck me like you own me! Hngh!!"

You obliged, dominant rhythm slamming into him, one hand pinning his wrists above his head. His body jiggled with every thrust, ass rippling, breasts heaving. He came first, intensely—cunt spasming around your cock, squirting juices that soaked the sheets, ass clenching the other in waves. "Yes—yours! Argh!" he roared, possessive even in ecstasy, nails raking your back.

But you weren't done. Pulling out, you flipped him onto all fours, re-entering both holes from behind. His big round ass slapped against your hips, the sound echoing in the cabin. Thorne pushed back, submissive yet demanding more, his cocky grin flashing over his shoulder. "Show the crew what they've lost—Hngh! make me scream!"

You did, thrusting relentlessly, fucked him hard, one cock grinding against his inner walls while the other pressed deeper, hitting spots that made him whimper submissively. Sweat slicked your bodies, the slap of skin echoing in the cabin. "Mine to fill," you growled, biting his shoulder, leaving a hickey that bloomed red. groping his milky breasts from behind, pinching nipples until he shattered again, Thorne moaned, possessive even in surrender. "Yes—mark me everywhere. Show the crew I'm yours. A-AH! cumming!!" He came first, cunt spasming around your shafts, milking them as his release soaked your thighs.

multiple orgasms ripping through him. Cum leaked from his cunt, mixing with milk as he trembled, but he begged for another round.

Hours blurred into a haze of positions—missionary where you watched his face contort in bliss, reverse cowgirl with him riding your dual cocks, his ass jiggling wildly. Each time, he came harder, body quaking, juices flooding. Finally, sated for the moment, you both dressed—or half-dressed, Thorne's shirt open to flaunt the hickeys blooming on his neck and the bite marks on his breasts.

He dragged you topside, assertive arm around your waist, pulling you close in front of his wide-eyed crew. "Behold my siren," he announced cockily, tilting his head to show off a fresh bruise. "And these marks? Proof he's claimed me as much as I have him. Dare to touch him and you all are dead." The crew muttered, but none dared speak. Thorne ground against you subtly, his plump cunt still throbbing under breeches, whispering, "Later, in the crow's nest—fuck me where they can hear."

Back in the cabin that night, after another grueling round—your cocks buried deep, him on his back with legs wrapped around you—Thorne's obsession deepened. As you both panted, spent, he traced your jaw, possessive gleam in his eyes. "Stay with me, siren. No more outcast life. I'll protect you… and maybe you'll fill me with more than just cum."

You obliged, slamming in until his legs shook, cum from earlier still leaking. This time, something deeper stirred—an oviposition urge, ancient siren instinct. As you neared climax, your cocks pulsed, not just with seed but with small, firm eggs forming at their tips—eggs that could take root in his fertile cunt, binding you eternally.

Thorne sensed it, grinding lazily against you, eyes glazing with fanatic need. "Ah-Hah! Give it to me—your eggs. Do it. Breed me. make me swell with your young. Make me yours forever. AHHH!!!"

Climax hit like a storm. You growled, burying deep. As a siren, your release was more—oviposition kicked in, small, pearl-like eggs slipping from your tips, embedding in his fertile depths. The first egg pushed from one cock, slick and round, stretching his cunt further as it lodged inside. Thorne's eyes rolled back, his own orgasm crashing as his cunt spasmed, squirting around you. Milk gushed from his breasts, soaking the sheets. Then the second from your other shaft, nestling beside it. Cum followed, sealing them in, your release bloating his belly slightly.

Thorne collapsed against the railing, hand on his abdomen, obsessed grin feral. "Pregnant with your siren spawn. No one touches what's mine—and you're mine forever." He turned, kissing you fiercely, possessive even in afterglow. "Mine," he whispered again, nuzzling your neck. "Forever, outcast. And I'll show the world what you did to me."

Days blurred into weeks on the Black Serpent. Thorne's belly slightly rounding with the oviposition's gift—eggs growing, his body adapting to the fantasy of your union. He strutted prouder, shirt unlaced to show the swell, hickeys and bites a map of your claim. He kept you close, his unhealthy obsession growing. In public, on deck under the stars, he'd drop to his knees, sucking your dual cocks while the crew averted eyes—or not, since he reveled in it. "Look at my siren," he'd boast, hickeys blooming on his tan throat, ass marked with handprints. During storms, he'd ride you submissively in the captain's quarters, cunt greedy for more double fills, whispering possessive vows. "I'll kill any who look at you wrong. You're my siren, my everything." submissive moans echoing as you double-fucked him again, more eggs taking root.

His belly began to swell, a subtle roundness under his suit from the oviposition pregnancy. Milk leaked constantly now, staining his shirt, but he wore it proudly, groping your cocks in front of his men to stake his claim. You, the caring siren, found yourself entangled—not just in chains, but in this twisted bond. Humans like Thorne? They were worth the risk.

One night, as waves lapped the hull, Thorne straddled you on the bed, his pregnant form heavier, breasts even larger and milkier. "Fuck me again," he demanded, assertive fire in his eyes, guiding your cocks to his entrances. You obliged, thrusting up into his juicy cunt and jiggling ass, the eggs inside him shifting with each pound. He came first, screaming your name, body quaking as you filled him anew.

And you, once outcast, found a twisted home in his obsession, legs or tail, always entangled in his scarred embrace.

The night stretched on, rounds blending into dawn, his body a canvas of your dominance, his submission fueling your care. Thorne, the feared pirate, was yours—and you, the captivating siren, had ensnared him completely.

In a "we're all animals and I didn't choose to be born as a human, as well as be forced to constantly think and perceive things animals could never ever be able to even process and understand" way

I never choose to be aware of my existence nor to bother about what others are thinking

I want to feel like my existence is free without having to prove my worth or play by the rules of money

But yet i wouldnt mind dedicating my life to a person taking care of me at the cost of being trapped in the same enviroment and eventually not being allowed to bark everytime i want to

desperate to fuck

meets

desperate to be fucked

intense action

comedic romance

and never seen before performances

you can't miss it!

what happens when a cuntboy, who hate and disgust his body, eventually feel gifted and the main reason is YOU?

yeah, you heard it right. A CUNTBOY!!!!!

top!male reader, yandere bottom cuntboy, masturbation, stepbrother relationship, milky breasts, own character?, minor character, desperate character, needy character, size difference, sub bottom, jealous bottom, first time writing.

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

Yuta stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror of his bedroom, his small hands clenched into fists at his sides. The body staring back at him was a betrayal—a curse disguised as flesh. His chest heaved with heavy, huge breasts that strained against the loose fabric of his oversized shirt, their milky weight pulling at his shoulders, full and swollen like overripe fruit begging to be plucked. Below, his hips flared out into a big round ass that jiggled with the slightest movement, soft and plush, leading down to thighs that rubbed together with every step. And hidden beneath his panties, that plump juicy cunt, always embarrassingly slick, lips puffy and inviting in a way that made his stomach twist with disgust. Why me? he thought bitterly, tears pricking at his eyes. His parents had done this to him—born with these special genes that twisted him into something neither boy nor girl, but a freakish blend. He hated touching himself, hated even looking, avoiding mirrors like they were poison.

His father had tried to explain it once, mumbling about rare genetics and how Yuta was 'unique,' but words like that only fueled the rage. Yuta spent his days huddled in his room, bratty and withdrawn, snapping at anyone who dared get close. School was a nightmare; whispers followed him, eyes lingered on the way his uniform clung to his curves. He was barely into his teens, small and underdeveloped in ways that made him feel even more monstrous.

Then everything changed. His father remarried—a kind woman, who came with a son of her own. Y/N was everything Yuta wasn't: tall and broad-shouldered, with an easy smile and carefree laugh that filled the house like sunlight. At sixteen, Y/N was already towering over Yuta, his extroverted energy pulling people in effortlessly. From the first day, Y/N sought Yuta out, knocking on his door with a grin. "Hey, little bro! Wanna play some games?" he'd say, ignoring Yuta's sullen glares and sharp retorts.

Yuta resisted at first, crossing his arms over his chest to hide the embarrassing swell of his breasts, his cheeks burning. But Y/N was persistent, dragging him into video games or forcing him to watch movies on the couch. Their parents beamed at the sight—Yuta's brattiness melting away, replaced by shy glances and tentative smiles. As years passed, Yuta's attachment deepened. Y/N was turning into an adult now, his body filling out with muscle, his voice deepening into something that sent shivers down Yuta's spine. Yuta, still clinging to the edges of adolescence, felt his heart race whenever Y/N was near. A brotherly pat on the back made his skin tingle; Y/N's voice calling his name turned him into a stammering mess, face flushing hot as he hid behind his hair.

It started innocent enough. Yuta trailing after Y/N like a shadow, jealous of how his stepbrother lit up rooms with his charm. But lately, the feelings twisted into something darker, more urgent. Yuta knew it was wrong—Y/N was his oni-chan, family now—but the ache in his core wouldn't fade. He'd catch himself staring at Y/N's strong arms, imagining them wrapped around him, or watching the way his stepbrother's shirt clung to his chest after a shower.

One night, barely a teen and alone in the dim glow of his bedside lamp, the pressure became too much. Y/N had left his gym clothes in the laundry basket—a sweaty t-shirt and shorts, reeking of musk and salt. Yuta's hands trembled as he snatched them, heart pounding. He buried his face in the fabric, inhaling deeply, the scent flooding his senses like a drug. Oni-chan~~ The thought of Y/N's body, tall and powerful, made Yuta's breath hitch. For the first time, he didn't recoil from his own touch. His fingers slipped under his nightshirt, brushing the heavy undersides of his milky breasts. They were so full, nipples hardening into peaks as he squeezed, a soft whimper escaping his lips.

Emboldened, he tugged down his panties, exposing his plump juicy cunt. It glistened already, folds slick and swollen, begging for attention he’d always denied. Yuta spread his legs, the big round cheeks of his ass pressing into the mattress, jiggling as he rocked his hips. He rubbed his clit tentatively at first, then harder, imagining Y/N's hands there instead—rough, claiming. The stolen shirt muffled his moans as he sniffed deeper, fingers plunging into his wet heat, stretching himself on the fantasy of his stepbrother's cock. His breasts bounced with each thrust, milk beading at the tips from the intensity. He came hard, body convulsing, cunt clenching around nothing as waves of pleasure crashed over him. Tears mixed with sweat; guilt followed, but so did a spark of something new—desire.

From then on, it became a ritual. Every night, Yuta stole something of Y/N's—a sock, underwear, whatever he could grab—using it to fuel his secret sessions. He'd grind against the fabric, pinching his nipples until they leaked, fucking himself with desperate fingers while whispering Oni-chan, please… Jealousy gnawed at him too. Y/N was so outgoing, always surrounded by friends—guys slapping his back, girls giggling at his jokes. Yuta seethed from the sidelines, clinging tighter, his touches lingering a beat too long.

But the real shift came as Yuta's body began to develop. What he once hated now felt like a gift, a tool to draw Y/N in. His breasts grew even heavier, swaying hypnotically when he walked; his ass rounded out fuller, jiggling with every step; his cunt ached constantly, juicy and ready. This body could make him want me, Yuta thought, tracing his curves in the mirror without flinching. He started training in secret—squats to firm his ass, stretches to accentuate his hips—all for Y/N to notice, to use.

His first seduction attempt was clumsy. Dressed in a tight tank top that barely contained his milky tits, nipples poking through, Yuta 'accidentally' bent over in front of Y/N while reaching for a remote. His shorts rode up, exposing the plump swell of his ass cheeks. "O-Oni-chan, can you help?" he stammered, flushing as he wiggled just a bit.

Y/N chuckled, oblivious, handing him the remote with a ruffle of his hair. "Sure thing, little one. You're getting taller—almost as clumsy as me!" No spark of desire, just brotherly affection. Yuta's heart sank, but he tried again days later, 'tripping' into Y/N's lap during a movie night, his soft breasts pressing against his stepbrother's chest, cunt throbbing against Y/N's thigh through thin fabric.

"Whoa, easy there," Y/N laughed, steadying him with strong arms. "You okay, little bro?" He didn't pull away immediately, but there was no heat in his touch—just concern. Yuta mumbled an excuse and fled, frustration boiling over into another frantic masturbation session, this time with Y/N's pillow clutched between his thighs, humping it until his juices soaked through.

He kept trying, each failure chipping at his confidence. A shared bath where Yuta lingered naked, water lapping at his heavy breasts and the inviting slit of his cunt, hoping Y/N would stare. Instead, Y/N scrubbed his back like it was nothing. Walking around in just underwear, ass cheeks bouncing, breasts spilling over the cups— Y/N complimented his 'growth spurt' with a grin, clueless.

Yuta's fantasies grew hopeless, vivid. He'd picture Y/N finally snapping, pinning him down, sucking on his leaking nipples while pounding into his juicy cunt, that big round ass slapping against Y/N's hips. "Use me, Oni-chan. Fuck your little brother's slutty holes!" But reality was cruel; Y/N doted on him like a kid brother, letting Yuta cling and cuddle without suspicion, even when Yuta's hands wandered a little too low.

One evening, as Y/N prepared for his birthday party—turning adult, surrounded by friends—Yuta watched from the doorway, jealousy twisting like a knife. Y/N's laugh boomed, his tall frame drawing everyone in. Yuta's body hummed with need, breasts aching, cunt dripping into his panties. He slipped away to Y/N's room, snatching a fresh shirt from the drawer, already plotting tonight's release. But deep down, he wondered—how much longer could he hide this burning, taboo hunger before it consumed them both?

What happens when a Cuntboy find out that you have got a girlfriend when he is there and too desperate for... YOU?

Top!male reader, yandere cuntboy, own character, murdering, extreme jealously, masturbation, desperately seduction, too obsessed with reader, submissive yandere, murdering, breasts on male character. smut?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

Shadows of Obsession

The week alone with Y/N had been a tease, a taste of what Yuta craved. Yuta's touches lingering longer each day, his pleas for help with his body's demands growing bolder, but reality crashed back when parents returned, glowing from their trip, and life shifted. Life resumed its rhythm, school pulling Y/N into his social whirl. Yuta watched from the shadows, his body a constant betrayal—breasts swelling fuller each day, milk leaking at the slightest arousal, cunt perpetually slick with thoughts of his stepbrother. He practiced poses in the mirror, arching to thrust out his heavy tits, spreading his legs to admire the plump lips of his pussy, but self-loathing lingered beneath the desperation.

Y/N changed first. After that breast-kneading incident, Y/N threw himself into school, his phone buzzing more often, laughter spilling from calls that made Yuta's stomach twist. Y/N noticed the change in his little stepbrother—the way Yuta's body pressed too close, the moans that echoed too sweetly during 'massages.' This can't go further, Y/N thought, pulling back. he'd grown distant, eyes skimming over Yuta like he was just furniture. 'We can't do that stuff anymore,' he'd muttered one evening, avoiding Yuta's pleading gaze. 'It's not right.' Yuta's heart twisted, but he nodded, hiding the fire in his belly.

Y/N started dodging Yuta's hugs, locking his door at night. Yuta felt the rejection like a slap, his heavy breasts aching not just from milk but from the void Y/N left. Upset gnawed at him, but desperation fueled bolder moves. Unbeknownst to him, Y/N had met someone at school—a girl named Mia (just random name for this temporary character), with sharp wit and easy laughs that drew crowds. Y/N dove in, using the relationship as a shield against the confusing pull Yuta exerted.

Yuta sensed the shift immediately. Y/N's phone buzzed constantly, his smiles brighter when he thought no one watched. Parents proud secretly as they could sense their son had found someone he love though Upset gnawed at Yuta, but he doubled down on seduction. Mornings, he'd slip into Y/N's oversized shirt, the fabric draping loose over his curves, hem barely skimming his thighs. No underwear—just the shirt swallowing his frame and clinging to his damp skin, nipples poking through like invitations, his plump cunt lips peeking if he bent even slightly, ass cheeks jiggling free. 'Thanks for the shirt, Oni-chan,' Yuta would purr, twirling so the hem lifted, exposing the round swell of his cheeks. Y/N's jaw clenched, eyes darting away. 'Stop wearing my shirt only. And put some pants on, Yuta. You're not a kid anymore.' But Yuta saw the flicker—the way Y/N's pants tented briefly before he turned.

Other days, Yuta squeezed into too-small outfits: a crop top straining and stretching taut over his massive breasts, the fabric translucent with sweat and milk stains; tiny shorts riding up his ass crack, shorts wedged tight between them, the thin denim outlining his juicy pussy. He'd lounge on the couch, legs spread casually, hoping Y/N would stare, touch, fuck him senseless. Yuta begged Y/N to watch a movie together. 'Sit with me, Oni-chan? I'm lonely.' Y/N sat at the far end, phone in hand and eyes still on it, trying to ignore the way Yuta's hand 'slipped' to rub his inner thigh. Then as he had a glance over to 'check', Y/N's eyes would flick away immediately, cheeks heating. 'Yuta, put on real clothes. This isn't funny.' But Yuta pouted, clinging to his arm, grinding his hip against Y/N's thigh until he shrugged him off and fled to his room.

One afternoon, Yuta couldn't resist and burst into Y/N's room uninvited, desperate for attention. Y/N sprawled on his bed, phone in hand, thumbs flying. Yuta pounced, climbing onto the mattress and draping himself over and wrapping arms around Y/N's fit waist, face nuzzling his chest, breasts squishing against it. 'What're you doing, Oni-chan? Play with me instead. You've been ignoring me.' Y/N stiffened, trying to pry him off, but Yuta clung tighter. Then A notification pinged and Yuta peeked —Mia’s name with heart beside flashed on the screen before Y/N tilted it away. Yuta's eyes caught it, heart plummeting. Girlfriend? No, it couldn't be. He froze, then forced a laugh. 'Who's that? Friend?' Y/N pocketed the phone, pushing Yuta gently. 'None of your business, squirt. Go do homework.' He pulled back, feigning a yawn as he continued peeking — Y/N texts to 'Mia,' hearts and flirty emojis. Jealousy hit like a punch, Yuta's vision blurring. No... He is mine. And the seed planted.

Patterns emerged: Y/N glued to his phone, sneaking out evenings, returning late with rumpled clothes and a secretive grin and smelling of perfume. Yuta's stomach churned, jealousy festering, hot and ugly, twisting his fantasies. He'd masturbate furiously in his room, fingers plunging into his sopping pussy while imagining Y/N's cock slamming into him instead of some girl. Mine, Oni-chan. Only mine.

One night, as Y/N laced shoes for another 'hangout,' Yuta blocked the door, arms crossed under his tits to lift them provocatively. 'You're always gone. What's going on? Who are you hanging out with? Tell me.' His voice trembled, holding back the urge to scream, to claw. Y/N sighed, rubbing his neck. 'It's nothing. Just friends.' Yuta stepped closer, body pressing in, hand on Y/N's chest. 'Liar. I see you smiling at that screen. Who is she?' Clingy, insistent, Yuta wouldn't budge. Y/N cracked. 'Fine. Her name's Mia. We're… seeing each other. Happy? So you need to back off, Yuta. This clingy stuff—it's too much. We're brothers. Boundaries, okay? From now on.' The words sliced deep, Yuta's world cracked, tears pricking his eyes, but he nodded, whispering, 'Sorry, Oni-chan.' Inside, fury roared.

Officially dating now, Y/N balanced it all: dates with Mia, brotherly check-ins with Yuta. He cared—brought home snacks, asked about school with brotherly pats on the head—but no more touches. He fought the pull of Yuta's seductions, the way those heavy breasts strained against clothes, the jiggle of his ass when he bent over. When Yuta sat on his lap during movie night, everything is normal until Yuta ground subtly, trying to sandwich Y/N's crotch between his fat ass cheeks. Y/N lifted him off gently. 'Not like that.' Yuta's pussy ached from the denial, but he plotted.

Dates became Yuta's battlefield. Whenever Y/N dressed for a date—collar popped, hair styled—Yuta pouted and clung onto Y/N. 'Don't go! Stay with me!' voice would lace with fake panic and he'd grab Y/N's sleeve, breasts pressing into his arm, cunt throbbing with need. Y/N pried free. 'I'll be back late. Be good.' 'Oni-chan, wait!' he'd cry as Y/N headed out. Soon as Yuta became desperate, he escalated as he sent texts: "Oni-chan, the stove's on fire! Help!" Y/N bolted back home mid-date, Mia was left confused at their peaceful date. bursting through the door worried. 'What happened?' he'd demand, scanning Yuta's unharmed body, only to find Yuta 'safely' in the kitchen, no flames. Yuta would pout, 'Sorry, false alarm. Just scared.' Y/N would groaned and scolded, face thunderous. voice sharp: 'That's twice this week. Stop lying to sabotage my plans.' Yuta feigned innocence, eyes wide. 'I was scared... sorry.' But Y/N's gaze burned and worry turned to frustration. 'Stop lying, Yuta. This isn't funny. You're making me look bad.' However, Y/N is a good-hearted older brother so how long could he be mad at his cute little brother. After all, he'd stay, comforting the 'upset' boy, Mia texting complaints he ignored.

Days blurred, Yuta's jealousy boiling over. He tried everything: anonymous notes to Mia warning her off, slashing her bike tires, even 'accidentally' spilling milk on her locker to mark territory. Nothing stuck—Y/N adored her. and when Yuta lied that Mia had another boyfriend and she has been cheating on Y/N, Y/N defended her fiercely. 'That's totally a lie, Yuta. She's great. Stop hating your future sister-in-law and give her a chance.' Yuta's limit shattered.

the next day, Yuta's jealousy peaking. He saw them kiss in the driveway once, Y/N's hand on Mia's waist, and rage blinded him. She touches what's mine. He tried everything—anonymous notes in her locker warning her off, slashing her tires—but she brushed it off, and Y/N doted more, loving her laugh, her normalcy. The limit snapped.

One evening. Parents out, Y/N at store to buy gift for his girlfriend. Yuta alone with Mia when she came by to wait. 'He's running late,' Yuta said sweetly, inviting her in. As they sat, his mask slipped. 'Stay away from Oni-chan. He's mine.'

Mia laughed, flipping her hair and crossing her arms. ''What? You're his brother, Dream on and back off, freak. Y/N's with me." Rage exploded. As Mia was standing up and about to walk away, Yuta lunged, hands around her throat as she crumpled on the couch, Mia tried to screamed but couldn't since Yuta's grips was too tight, eyes become darken as she couldn't breath anymore... Yuta continued squeezing until her struggles weakened, eyes glazing. As Yuta notice that Mia is not moving anymore and is lifeless, he immediately let go and panic surged, but... so did triumph. As soon as he clamed down, He dragged her limp body to the backyard, ignoring the way the dead's eyes is gazing too intensely straight at him, digging frantically in the soft earth under the shed, burying her deep, covering with dirt and leaves. Hands shaking, he cleaned up the mess and washed the blood, heart pounding. Now he's free. For me.

That evening, Y/N returned hours later, phone clutched tight as it was blowing up with unanswered calls to Mia, calls going to voicemail. 'Mia's not answering. We had plans, and… nothing.' he paced the living room, worry etched his face. Yuta curled on the couch, feigning concern, legs tucked to hide the fresh slick between his thighs from the thrill. 'Maybe she's busy, Oni-chan. Don't worry.' Y/N slumped beside him, head in hands. 'I hope she's okay.' Yuta scooted close, hand on his thigh, voice soft. "I'll keep you company. Whatever you need." His cunt throbbed, imagining Y/N's cock slamming in, claiming what was always his. Soon.... very soon... just wait, my Oni-Chan~

'She vanished after our place,'

Y/N began to feel frustrated as Mia still hadn't contact him after days. Y/N had contacted her family too but no one knows where she want and one of her family had already contacted to police. Yuta curled on the couch, acting oblivious. 'Maybe she went somewhere else? Don't worry, Oni-chan. I'm here.' He patted the spot beside him, breasts heaving innocently. Y/N sat, head in hands. "FUCK! THOSE FUCKING POLICE SAY NO TRACE! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE CLAM WHEN I STILL CAN'T CONTACT HER!" Y/N groaned and Yuta scooted close, hand on Y/N's knee, cunt wetting at the vulnerability. 'I'll make you feel better. Let me help, like before.' Y/N shrugged him off gently. 'Not now, Yuta.' But Yuta planned in secret—more seductions, more excuses to touch, more excuses, until Y/N broke and filled his needy holes. With Mia gone, Y/N would crack, see only him.

That night, alone in bed, Yuta fingered his dripping pussy, imagining Y/N's cock finally claiming his holes, breeding the body he'd once hated but now wielded as a weapon. Soon, Oni-chan. You'll fuck me raw, forget her forever. He came with a shudder, milk spraying his sheets, resolve hardening. The game had escalated, and Yuta would win—no matter the bloody mess on his hands. With Mia gone, Y/N would crack, see only him.

What happens when your cuntboy bestfriend is too obsessed with you and find out that you are also unhealthily obsessed with him?

Yandere Top!male reader, yandere cuntboy, SMUT, nsfw, stalk-ish? yandere x yandere, multiple rounds and positions of sex.

The evening sun dipped low, casting a warm glow through the windows of your house as your bestfriend, Ben, and you lounged on the couch. He'd been extra clingy today, insisting you to open his water bottle even though it twisted with a flick of his wrist, and whining until you gave him that piggyback ride from school to your house. His light bag? Yeah, you carried that too, just to feel his arms wrap around your neck, his soft body pressing against your back. You didn't mind—hell, You loved it. fucking too love it! Ben was your obsession, your childhood crush, and the way he flushed and squirmed when you got too close 'innocently' made your cock twitch every time.

But tonight, something shifted. You'd been chatting with the neighbor girl outside, nothing serious, just polite talk. Ben had watched from the porch, his cute face twisting into a pout. Now, inside, he confronted you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson, his voice a mix of whine and accusation. "Why were you talking to her?" He whined, his voice pitching higher with each word. "You know she's always flirting with you. And you just... let her!" His cheeks burned red, eyes glistening like he might cry, looking up at you through those long lashes. At barely chest-height to you, he was the picture of vulnerable temptation. God, he was adorable like this, all pouty and possessive.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, pretending to be oblivious, though your heart raced at how close he was to breaking. His huge breasts heaved with every frustrated breath, straining against his tight shirt, and you could already imagine the way his plump ass would jiggle if you bent him over right there, god, it was breaking you. The way his lips trembled, the subtle jiggle of his heavy breasts under his shirt as he huffed—it was too much. But you held back, smirking down at him. "Come on, Benny. It's not a big deal. She's just a neighbor." He stomped his foot lightly, his eyes glistening like he might cry. That did it—the vulnerability in his gaze, the way his body leaned toward me instinctively, begging for attention without words. You couldn't pretend anymore. While he rambled on about you getting too close to girls, you grabbed his slender wrist, firm but not bruising, and pulled him toward your bedroom. He stumbled after you, surprise flickering in his eyes. "W-what's going on? W-wait, what are you—?" he started to ask, but you didn't let him finish.

The door clicked shut behind you, you spun him around and pinned him against the wall, your larger frame caging his smaller one.  His breath hitched, eyes wide as saucers, but before he could protest, Your mouth crashed onto his in a fierce, passionate kiss, your tongue pushing past his soft lips to claim his mouth, tasting the sweetness of his surprise, devouring those soft lips you'd fantasized about for years. He froze for a split second, wide-eyed, then melted into you, kissing back with desperate eagerness, his tongue shyly tangling with yours. His hands clutched your shirt, pulling you closer as you ground your hips against his, pressing flush to yours, those massive breasts squishing against your chest, and you could feel the heat radiating from his core, feeling the heat from his plump cunt through your clothes.

Your hands roamed under his shirt, worshipping his soft, fuckable body, fingers tracing the smooth skin of his sides before cupping his heavy, huge milky breasts, thumbs circling the hardening nipples until milk beaded at the tips, overflowing your palms, soft and full, nipples already hardening into peaks as you squeezed. He gasped into your mouth, arching as you squeezed and kneaded the full mounds, pinching the sensitive peaks. "O-Oh… ah!" Ben whimpered, his body trembling, his hips bucking forward instinctively. You broke away just enough to yank his shirt up and over his chest, exposing those glorious breasts—pale skin stretched taut over their weight, veins faintly visible beneath, begging to be sucked. "Fuck, Ben," you growled, dipping your head to latch onto one nipple, sucking hard while your hand kneaded the other. Milk leaked from the tip, warm and sweet on your tongue as you bit down gently, making him arch off the wall with a cry. You slid your free hand lower, dipping into his pants to find his plump, juicy cunt already soaked, lips swollen and slick. Your fingers parted the folds, rubbing his clit in firm circles while two digits plunged into his tight heat. Ben's legs shook, his small hands fisting your hair as he moaned loudly. "Ah—oh god, please..."

He came fast the first time, walls clenching around your fingers as he cried out, juices gushing over your hand. But you didn't stop—pumping harder, curling to hit that spot inside him while your mouth latched onto his neck, sucking marks into the pale skin. Your thumb pressing his clit until he shattered again, body trembling as he squirted onto the floor. Pulling your fingers free, you licked them clean while staring into his dazed eyes. "You think I don't know what you've been up to, Benny?" You murmured against his ear, voice rough with lust. "How you sneak into my room and sniff my used clothes? Burying your face in my dirty shirts, inhaling my scent while you touch yourself."

His face flushed crimson, like a ripe tomato, eyes widening in shock. "H-how…how do you know?" he stammered, voice barely a whisper, even as his hips bucked against your hand, his body betrayed him, nipples pebbling harder under your gaze. chasing another orgasm.

You chuckled darkly and stripped him slowly, peeling off his shirt to expose those massive breasts, milk leaking in thin streams down his chest. Your pants hit the floor next, cock springing free, thick and veined, pre-cum beading at the tip. You lifted him effortlessly, carrying him to the bed and laying him down, His big, round ass jiggled as he landed on his back, legs spreading wide to reveal that virgin pussy, pink and dripping. "How? About how you rub that needy cunt against my pillow while you finger that tight little cunt to pictures of me? Spreading your legs wide, so close to letting my image claim your pussy." You positioned yourself between his thighs, rubbing your cockhead along his dripping slit.

Ben's breath hitched, his big round ass jiggling as he squirmed. "You… you saw the photos? The ones I sent by... accident?" His voice was a shy whisper, but his eyes burned with need.

"Yeah, baby. The naked ones you 'accidentally' sent—your tits out, pussy spread wide, and never deleted from the chat. I jerked off to them every night." With that, you thrust into his virgin pussy, stretching the plump walls inch by inch. He was so tight, so wet, gripping you like a vice as you bottomed out, balls slapping against his ass. Ben's back bowed, a scream tearing from his throat as you continue thrusting in, his walls fluttering around you. He moaned your name loudly—too loud it echoed off the walls—"Ah! Yes, fuck me!'—so you clamped your larger hand over his mouth, muffling the cries. Your other hand gripped his breast roughly, pinching and twisting the nipple until milk sprayed out, coating his chest. You pounded into him relentlessly, feeling his pussy milk your shaft with every thrust, his ass cheeks slapping against your thighs.

You fucked him deep and steady at first, hips snapping to claim every bit of his virginity. "I've been stalking you for too long, Ben. Watching you from the shadows, knowing every dirty secret." You confessed, starting a brutal rhythm, hips slamming forward to bury your cock balls-deep. "For years. You're mine, Ben. Always have been." His eyes rolled back, muffled moans vibrating against your palm as he came again, pussy spasming around your cock, milking you dry. But you held back, flipping him onto his hands and knees for the next round. You gripped his jiggling ass cheeks, spreading them to watch your cock plunge into his cunt, the lips gripping obscenely. smacking that jiggling ass until it reddened. "Tell me, Ben. How long have you wanted this? Wanted me to claim that virgin hole?"

Ben gasped when you let him speak, 'I've wanted this forever,' voice breaking and pushing back onto your cock to meet your thrusts. "Yearning to get fucked by you, dreamed of you fucking me, breeding me… to have you claim my virginity. Please, don't stop—your cock feels so good stretching my pussy!" He bubbled like a slut, words spilling out between moans. "I love how you fuck me— so deep, so rough! Suck my breasts, bite them… yes, like that!"

You obliged, pulling him up against your chest, one hand mauling a breast while your mouth latched onto the other, sucking hard on the nipple, teeth grazing the areola as milk flooded your tongue. He came twice more in that position, body shaking, but you weren't done. You laid him on his back, legs over your shoulders, pounding into his pussy until it was red and swollen. Then you pulled out, slick with his cream, and pressed against his tight ass, easing in slowly. "Gonna fuck this hole too," You growled, and he nodded frantically, begging for it. You lubed up with his own juices before pushing into that tight ring, making him wail into the pillow as you reamed him deep.

Round after round, you took him—missionary with his legs over your shoulders, reverse cowgirl where he bounced on my cock, his breasts slapping against his chest; doggy with your hand fisting his hair; sideways while sucking bruises into his neck, even standing with him impaled on you against the headboard. Each time, he admitted more: how he'd fantasized about you breeding him, how his obsession matched yours. How he threaten those girls who dared to talk to you. His body shook violently, pussy and ass clenched around you, cumming endlessly, juices soaking the sheets.  milk leaking from his tits as you bit and sucked them raw, just how he liked. "Ah-hah! I love how you fuck me," he babbled, voice hoarse and slutty, like a bitch in heat. "S-Suck my breasts harder—bite them! Fill me up, make me yours! Hnghhh!!!"

Finally, after he'd climaxed so many times his voice was hoarse, Ben was a wrecked mess, legs trembling, but his eyes burned with hunger, he still craved more. "Please… let me worship you," he begged, sliding down your body. His massive breasts enveloped your cock, the soft, milky flesh squeezing as he tit-fucked you, squeezing them together, sliding up and down your length, tongue flicking out to lap at the tip each time it emerged on every upstroke. He sucked the head into his warm mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he bobbed, slurping greedily while his hands pumped the shaft. "Cum in my mouth… over my chest. Mark me!" he begged around your shaft, voice muffled and desperate.

You couldn't hold back—thrusting between his breasts, then deep into his throat as ropes of hot cum erupted, painting his tongue and filling his mouth until it overflowed, dripping down to coat his heaving tits. He swallowed what he could, licking his lips with a satisfied moan.

(ONE SHOT)

What happens when a cuntboy stepdad couldn't hold back himself anymore when You were about to move in with your girlfriend and begin to do unexpected thing to stay together forever with... YOU?

Top!male reader, yandere cuntboy, SMUT, nsfw, force sex, cuntboy stepdad, breasts on male, charactee is too obsessed with reader.

You've always noticed the way your stepdad hovers a little too close lately, his body brushing against yours in the cramped kitchen of your family home. The place is a modest two-story house on the edge of town, walls echoing with the quiet routines of your life since your mom passed away when you were just a kid. He's been there for you, this soft-spoken man who married your mom years ago, always dressed in loose shirts and baggy pants that hide his fuller figure. But now, as you tower over him at nearly twenty, fresh into college, something's shifted. This morning, as you grab coffee, he reaches past you for a mug, and his chest presses firm against your arm. It's heavy, warm, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut over what feels like swollen mounds. You freeze, a jolt of confusion hitting you—breasts? No, that can't be right. He pulls back quick, cheeks flushing, muttering an apology while turning away, but the contact lingers, stirring an unwelcome heat in your gut.

You shake it off, focusing on your day. College life's buzzing, and you've got this girlfriend now, who's perfect—curvy, fun, dragging you into parties and late-night hookups that scratch your adolescent itch. When you mention her over dinner that night, your stepdad's fork pauses mid-air. His eyes, usually soft and doe-like, harden into something sharp, possessive. He nods stiffly, forcing a smile that doesn't reach his lips. 'A girlfriend, huh? That's... great for you,' he says, voice tight, but you catch the way his gaze drops to your lap, lingering too long before he busies himself with his plate. The air thickens, his foot accidentally—or not—nudging yours under the table, sending a shiver up your leg.

The next few days, it's worse. He bends over to pick up laundry in the hallway, his thin shorts riding up, outlining the plump curve of his ass and a damp seam between his thighs that makes your cock twitch despite yourself. You pretend not to notice, averting your eyes, but the musky scent of him—sweet and aroused—wafts over, mixing with the laundry soap. He's seductive without words, leaning into you during movie nights, his breath hot on your neck as he whispers commentary, body heat radiating through his clothes.

Then you drop the bomb. Your girlfriend invites you to stay over at her place for the weekend, and you're thrilled—time away from this weird tension. You announce it casually to your stepdad in the living room, not asking permission because fuck, you're an adult now! His face drains of color, eyes widening in shock he can't mask. He stands there, hands twisting in his apron, the kitchen light casting shadows that accentuate the swell under his shirt.

'You're really going? Just like that?' His voice cracks, calm on the surface but laced with desperation, like a whine building in his throat. “uhh... Yeah. I think it’s time I start my own life.” You reply causally. He steps closer, eyes pleading. 'What about me? You're gonna move in with her, start a whole new life, and leave me here alone? What if something happens? What if I get sick, end up in the hospital, and you're too busy fucking around with your girlfriend to come help?'

You shift uncomfortably on the couch, his words piling on like guilt weights. “That’s not fair. I’d still care about yo-” “Would you?” He paces, voice rising, accusations sharpening. "Because it sounds like you’re ready to replace me. Like I don’t matter anymore. Like I’m just… something you can leave behind.” He begins to sob. You exhale heavily, "Dad... That's not what it is" "Then why does it feel like you don’t care what happens to me once you’re gone?” He looks away, then back at you, eyes intense. "We were family—I thought I was enough for you." His lower lip trembles, eyes glassy with fear, but there's hunger there too, raw and needy, his body trembling as he stops inches from you.

You listen, heart pounding, then sigh. "Sorry, Dad. But I've already promised my girlfriend. I'll come back... soon. So, can i go pack now?" He doesn't answer, just storms away. But you have no time to care so you walk into your room, yanking open your closet and grab your duffel as you begin packing, but when you bend to stuff in clothes, something soft presses your face—a cloth, reeking of chemicals. The world spins, darkness swallowing you whole.

You come to groggy, head throbbing, wrists bound tight by the headboard of your bed in your bedroom. The door's shut, room dim with evening light filtering through curtains. A lewd, wet slapping echoes, moans filling the air—high-pitched, desperate. Something heavy bounces on your lap, grinding down with urgent force. Your cock's rock-hard, buried deep in slick heat that clenches around you like a vice. Panic surges as you blink focus: it's him. Your stepdad, stark naked, straddling you, his massive tits heaving with each thrust, milk leaking in white streams down his pale skin, dripping onto your shirt.

His cunt's soaked, plump lips stretched wide around your dick, juices slicking your balls as he rides you hard, ass cheeks jiggling with every slam. The musky tang of his arousal floods your nose, mixed with the sweet cream from his leaking nipples. He gasps, eyes locked on yours now that you're awake, and his body seizes—cunt spasming wildly, squirting hot cum all over your lap in messy spurts. It's pooled already, sticky and warm, evidence he's been at this for a while.

'What the fuck—' you rasp, dizzy, struggling against the ropes. But he doesn't stop, grinding slower, savoring it. 'Shh, baby,' he whispers, voice husky with obsession. "I've wanted this forever. Wanted to suck your big cock every night, swallow your cum till it fills my belly. Dreamed of you breeding me, pumping your seed deep so I swell with your baby—our baby. My body's yours, slutty and ready. These tits? Made for you to drink from while you fuck me pregnent."

You shake your head, denial bubbling, but he lifts off just enough to shove one massive, milk-heavy tit into your mouth. The nipple's fat, leaking warm cream onto your tongue—sweet, thick, forcing you to swallow as he bounces back down, "Mm... That's it... Suck my tit hard" cunt swallowing your dick whole again. Unwanted pleasure spikes, your hips bucking involuntarily into his greedy hole. He moans like a whore, walls milking you. "Ngh... Ah! C-cum inside me, please—fill your stepdad's womb. Hngh! Don't leave me. We're family forever!!"