(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.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Extra

What happens when your cuntboy wife is pregnant with your child and you still impregnating him although he's born many offspring for you?

Requested, top!male dragon reader, cuntboy wife, SMUT, nsfw, breeding, male pregnancy

The butler's words hang in the air like a spell, confirming what your body already sensed: Oliver carries your baby, a hybrid life sparked from your seed deep in his womb. Surprise hits you first, a jolt through your ancient frame—pregnant? You've claimed countless brides over centuries, rutted them raw during heats past, but none ever swelled with your offspring. Humans were fleeting distractions, their bellies never quickening under your touch. Now, this soft boy, your devoted wife, bears the impossible. Nervousness coils in your gut, unfamiliar and sharp. How do you care for a pregnant mate? You've hoarded gold and razed kingdoms, but tending to swollen curves and impending cries? The thought unravels you—awkward fumblings, sleepless nights pierced by wails, your massive hands too clumsy for fragile new life.

You pace the chamber, mind lost in the haze: Oliver's belly rounding, his tits leaking milk, the child's first squall echoing off stone walls. Annoying cries, demanding feeds, endless needs—gods, what if you fail them? Your claws scrape the floor as doubts swarm, the weight of eternity pressing heavier.

A soft giggle breaks the spiral. Oliver bounds in, his steps light despite the subtle curve already blooming at his midsection. His face lights up with a wide, radiant smile, eyes sparkling as he hops onto you without warning, legs wrapping around your waist. You catch him instinctively, his warmth pressing close. "My lord—husband," he breathes, nuzzling your neck, "I'm so happy. Your child grows inside me. Our baby… it's a miracle." His hands splay over his stomach, voice bubbling with joy, body molding to yours in unshakeable trust.

That cute smile of his—innocent, adoring—melts the tension from your shoulders. You can't help but grin back, pulling him tighter, lips brushing his forehead. "We'll face it together, my wife," you murmur, resolve hardening. No more doubts; with him at your side, even this uncharted path feels conquerable. You kiss him deeply, tongue claiming his mouth as your hands cup his ass, already imagining the changes to come.

Decades unfold like chapters in an endless tome, your lair transforming from solitary hoard to bustling nest. Oliver's immortality blooms alongside his fertility, a gift woven into his veins from the first pup he bore—your ancient essence binding him to you eternally, his body forever young and yielding, womb eager for more. He fathers heirs across a hundred years and beyond, each pregnancy swelling him fuller, his devotion only deepening with every kick and cry.

The eggs come first, laid in silken clutches after heated nights where you fuck him senseless, your cock buried to the hilt in his slick pussy until he clenches and floods around you, essence spilling to quicken life. You tend them together—your massive form coiled protectively around the glowing orbs, Oliver nestled against your side, hand stroking the shells as they warm under your shared heat. When they hatch, hybrid whelps emerge: scaled tails flicking, tiny wings unfurling, eyes gleaming with draconic fire but softened by their mother's gentle features. Oliver coos over them, nursing the hatchlings at his leaking breasts, milk dribbling as their small mouths latch on.

Caring for the brood becomes your rhythm. You hunt vast game to feed their ravenous appetites, teaching them to shift forms—humanoid for subtlety, draconic for flight—while Oliver handles the tender moments, bathing wriggling bodies and soothing fevers with his touch. As they grow into spirited youths, scampering through caverns or soaring on fledgling wings, the lair echoes with laughter and roars, a far cry from your old solitude.

Your favorite ritual emerges amid the chaos: those quiet nursing sessions, when a pup latches to one of Oliver's heavy tits, suckling greedily. You slide in close, mouth descending on the other nipple, tongue swirling around the pebbled peak before you suck hard, drawing forth warm milk that floods your throat, sweet and rich. Oliver moans low, body arching into the dual pull—his free hand threading through your hair, hips grinding against your thigh as arousal builds. "Ah!—husband… they drink from me, and you…Ngh! it feels so good," he whimpers, pussy clenching emptily, juices soaking his thighs. You pull the baby aside as you knead his other breast, milk spraying in arcs, watching his face contort in pleasure, lips parted on gasps. The pup mewls contentedly, oblivious, while you drink deeper, cock hardening against him until you can't resist flipping him over, rutting into his dripping cunt from behind, careful not to disturb the nursing.

Nights when the children finally slumber—rare gems amid their endless energy—you claim him fully. The brood tucked into alcoves or flown out for hunts, leaving your chamber hushed. Oliver spreads for you eagerly, thighs parting to reveal his plump pussy, always ready, lips glistening. "Fuck me, my lord—fill me again," he begs, fingers parting his folds invitingly. You thrust in deep, his walls hugging your thick length, milking you with practiced squeezes born of centuries. You pound him relentlessly—missionary with his legs over your shoulders, driving to his cervix; doggy style, ass rippling with each slap; him riding you reverse, breasts bouncing as he grinds down, pussy swallowing every inch. He cums repeatedly, sobbing your name, body quaking as you flood him with seed, ensuring the next clutch or pup.

Over a hundred years, his belly rounds time and again—triplets one cycle, a dozen eggs the next—each birth strengthening your bond. Your servents had to babysit all your kiddos and always glare at your butler who gave the advice, and then, he acted like he wasn't the one. Oliver bears sons with your fire, daughters with his softness, all immortal like you, a lineage to rival gods. Oliver, your eternal wife, glows with purpose, body marked by stretch marks you trace with your tongue, scars you kiss during fucks. You suckle from him post-birth, sharing the milk meant for whelps, his moans echoing as you finger his recovering pussy back to readiness.

Through it all, your nervousness fades to fierce protectiveness. You face the cries, the messes, the joys—with Oliver hopping into your arms at every milestone, his smile your anchor. Your family sprawls across eras, a chaotic empire of your making, nights sealed with his pussy clenching around your cock, whispers of "More… give me more of you."

THE END.

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!!"

What happens when a cuntboy has a crush on his childhood bestfriend, Y/N, who has gynophobia and insist being fake lover with... YOU?

Top!male reader, cuntboy character, SMUT, nsfw, reader kinda has gynophobia(fear of women), breasts on male, needy character, reader is a stud (yeah😎), bestfriend to lover? Kinda long?.

Alex had always been the clingy type, ever since he and Y/N were kids running around the neighborhood, building forts out of cardboard boxes and sharing secrets under the old oak tree. But Alex's clinginess went deeper now, fueled by a crush that burned hotter than the summer sun. Born with a rare genetic quirk, Alex's body was a tantalizing mix—soft curves that drew eyes wherever he went, huge heavy breasts that strained against his shirts, always leaking a bit of milk if he got too excited, a plump juicy cunt that ached for attention, and a big round jiggle ass that swayed with every step. He wasn't like other boys, and he knew it, but that only made his obsession with Y/N more intense.

Y/N, on the other hand, was the picture of masculine perfection. Tall and broad-shouldered, with muscles honed from years of sports and a face that could melt hearts—sharp jawline, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that promised reliability. Girls flocked to him at college parties, whispering about how dependable he was, how he could fix anything from a broken heart to a flat tire. He was a total ladies' man, charming them with easy laughs and strong arms wrapped around waists. But beneath that confident exterior lurked a shadow: a phobia of women, rooted in the nightmare of his stepmother's abuse during his teens. She'd twisted affection into something cruel, leaving him terrified of intimacy with anyone who reminded him of that pain. Women triggered flashbacks—cloying perfume, demanding touches—and he kept them at arm's length, even as he played the flirt.

Alex didn't let that stop him. He lived with Y/N now, sharing a cramped apartment off-campus, and every day was a chance to push a little closer. Mornings started with Alex pressing against Y/N's back in the kitchen, his heavy breasts squishing softly as he reached for the coffee mug. "Morning, bestie," he'd purr, his voice laced with hope, letting his plump pussy brush Y/N's hip. Y/N would tense, his body going rigid like a coiled spring. "Hey, Lex. Space, man," he'd mutter, stepping away with a forced chuckle, eyes flicking to the floor. But Alex saw the flicker—the way Y/N's gaze lingered on his curves before snapping away, guilt and fear warring in his expression.

One evening, after a study session, Alex amped it up. They were on the couch, textbooks scattered, and Alex 'accidentally' spilled water on his shirt. The thin fabric clung to his bare massive breasts underneath, outlining the dark nipples already beading with milk. He leaned in close, breath hot against Y/N's ear. "Oops. Help me out?" His hand trailed down his own thigh, inching toward the heat between his legs, where his plump cunt throbbed. Y/N's eyes widened, his cock twitching visibly in his jeans before he bolted upright. "I—uh, got it," he stammered, grabbing a towel and tossing it over Alex's chest like a shield. "You should change." He fled to his room, heart pounding, the ghost of his stepmother's manipulative touches flashing in his mind. Alex sighed, frustration mixing with desire, but he didn't push harder. Not yet.

At parties, it was worse—or better, depending on the view. Y/N would be surrounded by giggling girls, his arm slung casually over shoulders, lips brushing cheeks in playful kisses. One night, a blonde draped herself over him, grinding subtly as they danced. Alex watched from the corner, jealousy twisting in his gut, his own body responding with a rush of wetness soaking his panties. He sidled up later, when Y/N was alone grabbing a drink. "Dance with me?" Alex asked, pressing his body flush, his big round ass nestling against Y/N's crotch. He felt the hardness there, the involuntary twitch of Y/N's cock, and ground back slowly, imagining it sliding into his juicy cunt. Y/N's hands gripped Alex's hips for a split second—strong, possessive—before he yanked away. "Can't, buddy. Not like that." His voice cracked, phobia clamping down like a vice. He vanished into the crowd, leaving Alex aching and alone.

Another attempt came during movie night. Lights dimmed, popcorn forgotten, Alex curled into Y/N's side, his head on that broad chest. As the romantic scene played, Alex let his hand wander, fingers tracing Y/N's thigh, inching toward the bulge. "What if it was us?" he whispered, his free hand cupping one of his heavy breasts, squeezing until milk dampened the fabric. Y/N's breath hitched, his cock swelling under Alex's touch, but then the memories hit—his stepmother's false sweetness turning to screams. He shoved Alex's hand away gently but firmly. "Stop. Please. You're… you're too much like her sometimes." The words stung, but Alex nodded, retreating to his room with a heavy heart and an even heavier need.

Nights were Alex's secret escape. Alone in his bed, the apartment quiet except for Y/N's soft snores down the hall, Alex gave in to the fantasies that kept him sane. He stripped naked, the cool air pebbling his skin, his huge breasts heaving as he lay back. One hand kneaded a breast roughly, pinching the nipple until milk squirted out in thin streams, soaking the sheets. 'Y/N,' he moaned softly, spreading his legs wide. His other hand dipped between his thighs, fingers sliding over the slick folds of his plump juicy cunt. He was drenched already, arousal from the day's failed seductions making him sloppy wet.

Two fingers plunged in deep, stretching his tight walls, curling to hit that spot that made his toes curl. He imagined Y/N there, bold and touchy at last, phobia burned away by raw lust. In his mind, Y/N pinned him down, those strong hands gripping Alec's jiggle ass, spreading it wide. 'You want this, don't you?' Fantasy-Y/N growled, his massive cock—thick and veined, harder than steel—rubbing against Alex's entrance. Alex fucked himself harder, three fingers now, thrusting in and out with wet squelches, his cunt clenching greedily.

'Fuck me rough... Hnghh!' Alex whimpered to the empty room, hips bucking up. In the vision, Y/N slammed in, no mercy, his cock bottoming out in Alex's juicy depths, balls slapping against that big round ass. Each thrust was brutal, pounding deep, making Alex's breasts bounce wildly, milk spraying with every impact. Y/N's mouth latched onto a nipple, sucking hard, gulping down the sweet milk while his hips pistoned relentlessly. 'Gonna fill you up, breed you,' Y/N rasped, one hand pressing on Alex's belly as if to feel his own cock bulging inside.

Alex's fingers flew, scissoring and rubbing his clit, the fantasy building to a fever. Y/N flipped him over, yanking his ass up, spanking the jiggling cheeks red before plunging back in. Doggy style, rough and animalistic, Y/N's grip bruising as he fucked like a man possessed, phobia forgotten in the heat. 'Take my cum, get pregnant with my kid!' he commanded, and Alex shattered, his cunt spasming around his fingers, juices gushing out in a messy squirt. Waves of pleasure crashed over him, milk leaking freely from his breasts as he rode the orgasm, whispering Y/N's name like a prayer.

Panting, spent, Alex curled up, the ache in his heart sharper than the one between his legs. Tomorrow, he'd try again—cling closer, seduce bolder. Because even if Y/N's trauma held him back, Alex knew the desire was there, simmering under the surface. One day, it would break free, and when it did, Alex would be ready, his body open and begging for every rough, impregnating thrust.

The cycle continued for weeks, a frustrating loop of Alex's bold advances and Y/N's hurried retreats. Y/N's allure was magnetic, pulling in admirers like moths to a flame. At the campus gym, he'd lift weights in a tank top that hugged his broad chest, sweat glistening on his skin, and women would sidle up with excuses about spotting him. 'You look like you could handle anything,' one would purr, her hand brushing his arm. Y/N would smile politely, mumble something about needing to focus, and excuse himself—only for a guy from the lacrosse team to corner him in the locker room later, towel slung low on his hips, eyes lingering on Y/N's thick thighs. 'Wanna grab a beer sometime? Just us?' Y/N would laugh it off, dressing quickly and bolting, but the encounters piled up, each one chipping at his resolve.

Alex watched it all from the shadows, his jealousy festering like a bruise. He'd see Y/N cornered at the coffee shop by a flirty barista, her fingers trailing over his hand as she passed the latte, or overhear whispers in the hallway about how Y/N's strong arms made hearts race. Even guys weren't immune—classmates shooting appreciative glances at his tall frame during lectures, one bold enough to slip him a note with a winking emoji. Each time, Alex's plump cunt clenched with envy, his heavy breasts aching as if they swelled with unspoken rage. But beneath the jealousy simmered a darker plan, one that twisted his clinginess into possession. If I can't have him fully, no one else will, he thought, fingers twitching with the urge to claim what was his.

It boiled over one rainy afternoon in their apartment. Y/N had just shaken off yet another advance—a cute guy from Alex's lit class who'd 'accidentally' bumped into him outside, lingering too long with an invitation to study. Alex slammed the door behind them, his big round jiggle ass bouncing with the force, and whirled on Y/N. 'This has to stop,' he said, voice sharp, eyes blazing. "You're like a walking temptation! Girls, guys—they're all over you, and you just… let it happen!!"

Y/N rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Alex's gaze, his muscular frame slumping against the wall. 'I don't let it happen. You see that too! I push them away. Every time.' But his tone was weary, the weight of constant attention wearing him down.

Alex stepped closer, his huge breasts heaving with each breath, the outline of his nipples pressing through his damp shirt from the rain. He grabbed Y/N's hand, pressing it briefly to his soft belly before Y/N pulled back. 'Then make it official. Let me be your lover. Fake it if you have to—just say we're together. No one will come near you then.' His voice dropped to a husky plea, eyes wide with desperation. 'Please, Y/N. I can't stand watching them touch you, flirt with you. You're mine- I mean... we've been best friends forever; this is just… the next step.'

Y/N's face paled, his eyes widening in panic. The phobia surged, memories of his stepmother's suffocating demands flooding back—her 'love' that turned to control, leaving him scarred and inexperienced. He'd never had a real lover, never let anyone close enough to find out if he could even be good at it. 'Alex, no. I can't. I mean... I've never had a lover so I've never… done this. What if I'm terrible? What if I hurt you or mess it up?' He backed away, hands up like a shield, his cock betraying him with a subtle twitch at the thought of Alex's curves so near. 'You're my best friend. I don't want to ruin that.'

But Alex was relentless, clinging now in the most literal sense. He wrapped his arms around Y/N's waist, pressing his body flush, his plump juicy cunt grinding subtly against Y/N's thigh through their clothes. 'You won't ruin it. I'll show you everything. Just say yes. For me.' Tears pricked his eyes, but his grip tightened, that big round ass shifting as he nuzzled into Y/N's chest. 'No one else gets to have you. Please.'

Y/N's resolve cracked under the onslaught. Alex's desperation was palpable, his warmth seeping through the fear, and for the first time, the phobia felt a little less ironclad. 'Fine,' he muttered reluctantly, voice rough. 'Fake lovers. But nothing real, okay? Just to... keep people off my back.' He patted Alex's shoulder awkwardly, trying to ignore how his hands itched to explore those heavy breasts brushing his ribs.

Alex pulled back, a nearly overjoyed grin splitting his face, his heart pounding with triumph. Fake for now, he thought, already plotting. But not for long. 'You won't regret it,' he promised, eyes gleaming with intent. That night, as Y/N showered off the day's stress, Alex lay in bed, fingers delving into his slick folds once more. But this time, the fantasy had new layers—Y/N's reluctant acceptance fueling the fire. He imagined their first 'date,' a casual dinner to sell the ruse, where Alex would seduce him step by step, body on full display.

The fake date was set for Friday at a dimly lit Italian place downtown, the kind with candlelight and private booths. Alex spent the afternoon preparing, his body thrumming with anticipation. He chose a tight black dress that hugged his curves like a second skin—the neckline plunging to showcase his huge heavy breasts, the fabric stretching taut over the milky swells, nipples already perking at the thought. No bra, of course; he wanted Y/N to see, to feel the weight if he dared. The hem rode high on his thighs, barely covering his big round jiggle ass, and beneath it, lacy panties that framed his plump juicy cunt, already dampening with excitement.

Y/N arrived home early, dressed in a simple button-up that strained over his strong chest and dark jeans that outlined his powerful legs. He looked handsome as ever, hair tousled just right, but his eyes held a nervous edge. 'This is weird, right?' he said, fidgeting as Alex twirled for him. 'We don't have to—'

'We do,' Alex cut in, linking their arms and steering him out the door. 'For the fake part. Trust me.' In the cab, Alex leaned into Y/N's side, his breast pressing warmly against Y/N's arm, the faint scent of milk mixing with his cologne. Y/N shifted, clearing his throat, but didn't pull away.

At the restaurant, they slid into a booth, knees brushing under the table. Alex ordered wine, his foot sliding up Y/N's calf teasingly. 'To us,' he toasted, clinking glasses, his gaze locked on Y/N's lips. As appetizers arrived—steamy bruschetta that Alex fed to Y/N bite by bite, his fingers lingering on those full lips—tension built. Alex 'accidentally' spilled a drop of sauce on his cleavage, dabbing at it slowly, drawing Y/N's eyes to the deep valley between his breasts. 'Oops. Messy me~' He leaned forward, giving a better view, the dress slipping lower to reveal the edge of one areola.

Y/N's breath caught, his cock stirring in his jeans as he watched the milk bead slightly on Alex's skin from the arousal. 'Alex…' he warned, but his voice was husky, phobia warring with desire. He excused himself to the bathroom, splashing water on his face, trying to shake the image of those heavy tits begging to be touched.

When he returned, Alex had upped the ante. His hand rested on Y/N's thigh under the table, inching higher with each course. Pasta twirled on forks, and Alex moaned softly at the flavors, the sound too intimate for public. 'This is good,' he purred, squeezing Y/N's inner thigh, feeling the heat of his growing erection. Y/N gripped his napkin, knuckles white, but his hips shifted involuntarily toward the touch.

Dessert was tiramisu, shared from one spoon, Alex licking the cream from his lips deliberately. 'Imagine if we were real,' he whispered, his free hand brushing his own breast, making it jiggle slightly. Milk dampened the fabric now, a dark spot forming, and Y/N's eyes fixated, his phobia cracking under the raw need. "Alex, What are you doing? This.. isn't funny" Y/N hissed, but he didn't move Alex's hand away when it cupped the bulge in his jeans, stroking lightly through the denim.

'Helping you practice,' Alex breathed, thumb circling the thick outline of Y/N's cock. It throbbed under his palm, hard and insistent, pre-cum likely soaking his boxers. Y/N's hand shot out, grabbing Alex's wrist, but instead of stopping him, he held it there, "argh..." a low groan escaping. The waiter passed, oblivious, and Alex pressed on, unzipping Y/N's fly under the tablecloth's cover. His fingers wrapped around the hot length, skin velvet over steel, stroking slowly from base to tip.

Y/N's head fell back, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure overrode fear. "Fuck, Alex… we can't…" But his hips bucked into the fist, cock leaking steadily now. Alex pumped faster, twisting at the head, imagining it buried in his juicy cunt. The dark booth hid their sin, and when Y/N came with a stifled grunt, cum spilling hot over Alex's fingers, Alex licked them clean discreetly, savoring the salty taste.

They stumbled out into the night, Y/N's arm around Alex's waist—possessive now, not fake. Back at the apartment, the door barely closed before Y/N pinned Alex against it, hands finally exploring. He groped those huge breasts roughly, milk squirting as he squeezed, mouth crashing down to suck a nipple hard, gulping the sweet flow. 'God, I've wanted this,' he admitted, phobia shattered in the heat.

Alex moaned, yanking Y/N's shirt off, nails raking down his strong back. 'A-AHh! F-Fuck me, then. Rough, like I nee! Mmh!' Y/N didn't hesitate, stripping Alex's dress in a frenzy, hands kneading the big round jiggle ass before spinning him around. He spanked it hard, watching the cheeks ripple, then dropped to his knees, spreading Alex's thighs. His tongue dove into the plump juicy cunt, lapping at the dripping folds, sucking the clit until Alex's legs shook.

"Ah-hah! Please, y-your cock!'" Alex begged, and Y/N stood, slamming in with one thrust. His thick shaft stretched Alex wide, pounding deep, balls slapping against that jiggling ass. "ah! Ah! AH-HAH! Y-YES! Deeper! Nghh! Harder!!" Each brutal snap of hips made Alex's breasts bounce, milk spraying, as Y/N growled, 'argh... Gonna fill you, breed this tight pussy.' He flipped Alex onto the couch, legs over his shoulders, fucking harder, deeper, until they both shattered—Y/N's cum flooding hot inside, Alex's cunt milking every drop.

(ONE SHOT)

What happens when a cuntboy explore got lost in the forest and met you in your cave during your mating season?

Top!male naga reader, virgin cuntboy, mating season, breeding, SMUT, nsfw.

Nick dashed through the thick underbrush of the forbidden forest, his lithe young body buzzing with the thrill of discovery. At just eighteen, he was an unstoppable explorer, driven by curiosity that ignored every warning from his village. His special genes had gifted him a body unlike any other boy's: heavy, huge breasts that strained against his tight shirt, always full and leaking a sweet milk when aroused; a plump, juicy virgin cunt hidden beneath his shorts, aching for touch it had never known; and a big, round ass that jiggled with every energetic step he took. He wore simple explorer's gearboots, shorts, and a shirt that did little to contain his curves but nothing could hide his tempting form for long.

The forest was a maze of towering trees and twisting vines, a place where shadows whispered dangers no one dared face. Nick had ventured deeper than anyone before, mapping uncharted paths on his worn notebook. "Where am I? Am I Lost...? Nah, I'll just finding new ways," he muttered to himself, wiping sweat from his brow as he pushed onward. But as the sun dipped low, the path vanished into a wall of foliage. He shrugged it off, heart pounding with excitement rather than fear, and kept going, hacking at branches with his small knife.

Suddenly, the sky cracked open. Rain poured down in sheets, drenching him in seconds. His shirt clung to his skin like a second layer, turning sheer and outlining every curve of his massive breasts. The fabric stuck to his nipples, hard from the chill, and milk began to bead at the tips, soaking through darker. His shorts fared no better, plastered against his thick thighs and the swell of his jiggling ass, the outline of his untouched cunt visible as water trickled between his legs. Nick shivered, but the explorer in him pressed on, scanning for shelter.

Up ahead, a jagged cave mouth yawned in the rocky hillside, half-hidden by dripping ferns. "Jackpot!" he grinned, ducking inside just as thunder rumbled. The cave was dim and cool, the air thick with moisture and an earthy scent. He shook off like a wet dog, then peeled off his shirt, hanging it on a protruding rock to dry. His huge breasts bounced free, heavy and slick with rain, milk dripping slowly down their undersides. He kicked off his boots next, then tugged at his shorts, but they were stubborn, clinging wetly. Sighing, he sat on a flat stone, rubbing his arms for warmth, his bare breasts heaving with each breath as he tried not to touch himself with his own dark fantasy.

From the depths of the cave, a low hiss echoed. Nick froze, eyes widening. Slithering from the shadows emerged a massive naga serpentine creature with a muscular human-like torso, scaled arms, and a long, powerful tail that ended in a tapered point, YOU, of course. Your upper body was broad and imposing, emerald scales glinting in the faint light, with sharp fangs and glowing amber eyes fixed hungrily on the boy. You were no ordinary beast; You were a male naga in the peak of mating season, your body swollen with need, a thick, ridged cock already emerging from a slit at the base of your tail, dripping with slick precum. Nick quickly grabbed his clothes to cover himself but it was too late.

Your gaze locked on Nick's soaked formthe way his clothes hinted at the bare, tempting flesh beneath. Those massive, milky breasts, nipples erect and leaking, called to him like a siren's song. The scent of Nick's virgin arousal, mixed with the rain, drove the creature wild. You couldn't hold back; mating season burned through your veins, demanding he claim this perfect vessel. With a guttural hiss, you lunged forward, his tail whipping out to coil around Nick's waist before he could scramble away.

'W-what the?! G-get off!' Nick yelped, heart slamming in his chest as he twisted and kicked, clothes forgetten on the ground. His hands pushed at the smooth scales wrapping his body, but you were too strong, pinning his arms to his side. Your tail tip slithered higher, brushing against Nick's exposed breasts. It squeezed one heavy globe, the pressure making milk squirt out in thin streams. Nick gasped, a jolt of unwanted pleasure shooting through him as the tail flicked over his nipple, rubbing and pinching the sensitive bud.

"No, s-stop–Ah!" He bucked, but the tail didn't relent. It coiled around both breasts now, massaging them firmly, tails squeezing and releasing in rhythmic pulses that milked more cream from his tits. The sensation was electric, his virgin body betraying him as heat pooled in his core. Your upper body loomed closer, "You shouldn't have come to this forest. Now, you're going to be my mate..." You hissed as your clawed hands gripping Nick's thighs to spread them wide. The boy's shorts were yanked down roughly, exposing his plump, juicy cuntpink folds glistening with rain and emerging wetness, untouched and begging to be filled.

The tail tip delved between Nick's legs, tracing the slit of his virgin pussy before pressing against the entrance. It wiggled inside, thick and insistent, stretching his tight walls for the first time. Nick cried out, struggling harder, his ass clenching as he tried to twist away. "Please, no–Ngh! G-get out!" But the intrusion only deepened, the tail thrusting in and out, coated in his growing slick. It curled inside him, rubbing against that hidden spot that made stars burst behind his eyes.

His body arched involuntarily, eyes rolling back intensely, cunt clenching around the invading tail. Pleasure built fast, overwhelming his fear. "Come on. Admit it, slut. You know you like it." Your other tail on his breast kneaded harder, tail sucking at his nipple with suction-like grip, drawing out floods of milk that the creature lapped up with your forked tongue. Nick's struggles weakened as the first orgasm hit him like a wavehe came hard, pussy spasming and squirting juices down his thighs, soaking the cave floor. "Oh, Ngh! n-no, ahh!" He shuddered, tears mixing with rain on his cheeks, but his hips bucked up greedily now.

You hissed in approval, your cock throbbing visibly as you watched the boy unravel. You didn't stop; your tail in Nick's cunt pumped faster, twisting to hit every sensitive inch, while another loop of tail worshipped his jiggling ass, squeezing the round cheeks and probing at his tight hole. Nick came again almost immediately, his virgin body hypersensitive, walls fluttering wildly as he screamed in ecstasy. Milk leaked steadily from his abused breasts, your mouth descending to suckle one directly, fangs grazing the skin as you gulped down the sweet fluid.

By the third climax, Nick's resistance shattered. His legs wrapped around the tail instinctively, pulling it deeper into his sopping pussy. "M-more… please, Ngh... it feels so good," he whimpered, face flushed, eyes glazed with lust. The explorer in him was gone, replaced by a needy slut craving the breeding his body was made for. "Now that you're listening to your mate..." You growled, sensing the shift, and withdrew his tail with a wet pop, leaving Nick's cunt gaping and twitching, desperate for more.

With a fluid motion, you positioned your thick, ridged cock at Nick's entrance. It was massive, veined and pulsing, the tip flaring as it nudged his folds apart. Nick begged openly now, "Fill me, breed me, please! I need—AHH!!!" You thrust in savagely, burying your length to the hilt in one stroke. Nick's virgin cunt stretched around the girth, walls gripping like a vice as he wailed in bliss. Blood dripping down his thighs but neither of you care. You fucked him relentlessly, hips slamming forward while your tail coiled around Nick's waist to hold him steady.

Each pound drove deeper, the ridges scraping his insides, building pressure in his belly. Nick's breasts bounced with every impact, milk spraying across your scales. He came twice more just from the fucking, pussy milking the invading cock, juices dripping down his ass. Your pace quickened, body tensing as mating instincts took over. With a roar, you hilted deep, cock swelling as eggs began to push throughsmooth, round orbs sliding one by one into Nick's womb.

What happens when your ex-crush, a cuntboy, regrets rejecting YOU cuz you have transformed into a hottie from a skinny nerd?

Top!male reader, bratty cuntboy, SMUT, nsfw, rejection play, emotional manipulation, role reversal, revenge sex, TOO LONG. 🔞🔞🔞 (Ignore the topic cuz I have no idea about it)

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Bonus

You used to think you guys would be inseparable forever.

You used to be inseparable in the way only kids can be—two boys growing up on the same streets, sharing snacks, secrets, and the quiet certainty that tomorrow would look just like today. Eddie, your childhood friend, he was always the brighter one, the louder one, the one adults indulged and friends followed despite his unusual body - His huge milky breasts strain against the tight fabric of whatever he wears, the outline of those heavy tits clear even from behind as they shift with every breath. Lower down, his pants hug the plump, juicy curve of his ass, round and jiggling slightly as he shifts his weight. A little spoiled, a little demanding, used to getting what he wanted without having to ask twice.

You were the opposite. Quieter. too skinny. Awkward. The kind of kid who hovered half a step behind, who listened more than he talked, who noticed everything. The kind of kid who stood slightly behind him in photos. The kind who remembered birthdays, favorite drinks, small habits. The kind who learned, slowly and painfully, that admiration can turn into something deeper without you noticing when it happens.

Somewhere along the way, that closeness turned into something else for you.

By high school, You knew. You knew the way your chest tightened when he smiled at someone else, the way you always looked for him in a crowd. The way your pants got tighten whenever you saw a glimpse of his cleavage or his ass. The way your cock twitch at the sight of his cunt peaking out if his jeans rode low. You told yourself it was stupid. You told yourself it would pass.

It didn’t.

It was already impossible to ignore. You carried it around like a secret that kept getting heavier, until one day you said it out loud. you didn’t expect a fairytale. You didn’t even expect kindness. But You also didn’t expect the way he looked at You—like You’d said something embarrassing, something annoying.

He didn’t soften it. Didn’t try to spare your feelings.

He laughed a little, sharp and dismissive, and told you not to be weird. Told you to stop getting ideas. Told you that you weren’t his type and never would be. The words weren’t long, but they were precise, and they landed exactly where they could hurt the most. Like he was embarrassed for you. Like your feelings were something inconvenient he wanted gone as fast as possible.

After that, nothing exploded.

It just… rotted.

He started avoiding you. You started avoiding him back. Conversations died. Messages went unanswered. The space between you guys filled up with all the things you guys didn’t say, until there was nothing left but distance and the memory of how small he’d made you feel.

After high school, you guys were strangers with a shared past neither of us touched.

You took that quiet disappointment with you into adulthood.

And You changed.

Change doesn’t come all at once. It comes in routines—early mornings, quiet gyms, movements that go from awkward to precise. Weeks turn into months, and months into years, and your body starts to take shape.

Your shoulders broaden. Your frame fills out. The softness or narrowness you once had gives way to something denser, more deliberate. You start to look like you belong in your own skin.

Your posture changes before you notice it. You stand straighter. Move with purpose. Even at rest, there’s a sense of contained strength.

Your face sharpens, too—edges cleaner, jaw more defined, features settling into something carved rather than grown. People begin to look twice without meaning to.

Clothes fit better. Jackets sit right across your shoulders. T-shirts trace lines that look intentional. You don’t look flashy—just solid, balanced, unmistakably built.

The strangest part is how normal it feels.

You stop seeing your body as something to apologize for. It becomes something reliable. Strong. Yours.

By the time passed, the old version of you exists only in memory—replaced by someone who looks like he was shaped on purpose, like a statue finally finished being carved. The awkward kid faded into something steadier, sharper, calmer.

At the first day of your collage, You stride down the bustling city street, your broad shoulders cutting through the crowd like a knife. The sun beats down, highlighting the sharp lines of your chiseled jaw and the ripple of muscles under your tight shirt. Years of grinding in the gym have sculpted you into this— a towering figure of raw masculinity, far from the skinny kid you once were. Your eyes scan the faces, not expecting much, until you spot him. Eddie. Leaning against a coffee shop wall, scrolling his phone looking exactly like he always had. Same face. Same expression that said the world was mildly annoying but still his to deal with, his body screaming for attention even in casual clothes. Those heavy milky breasts strain against his shirt, nipples poking through like they're begging to be sucked. His hips flare out wide, that plump juicy cunt and big round jiggle ass impossible to miss in those tight jeans.

You bump into him 'accidentally,' your solid chest pressing against his softer frame for a split second. He stumbles back, those full tits bouncing, "Hey! Watch ou-" He trails off as soon as he looks up and sees you. "Woah, sorry, didn't mean to." You causally smile and walks away. He stares at your back and with a flirtatious smirk, not a hint of recognition in his eyes, he follows behind you.

"Whoa, just that, big guy? You think you can leave things like that?" he says as stand before you, his voice dripping with that old bratty lilt, but now laced with thirst. He eyes you up and down, biting his lip as he takes in your built body, the bulge of your biceps, the confident stance. "Damn, you're packing some serious heat. What's a stud like you doing in a place like this? Buy me a coffee to make up for nearly knocking me over?"

His words hang in the air, desperate and obvious. He shifts his weight, that juicy ass jiggling slightly, and you can almost smell the heat coming off him, his cunt probably already getting wet just from the proximity. He doesn't know it's you— the quiet kid he rejected back in high school, the one whose confession he laughed off like it was nothing.

You almost laughed.

He talked to you like you were a stranger. Like you guys had never shared bedrooms full of game controllers and half-finished homework. Like he’d never known you when you clothes didn’t quite fit right and your confidence was mostly borrowed.

He was cocky. A little bratty. Teasing in that way that assumed You'd play along.

And, yeah—he was clearly interested.

Very interested.

You guys talked for a few minutes. Small talk. Easy talk. He kept finding excuses to look at you, to smile, to lean a little closer than necessary. You let him. Not because you wanted him to think he had a chance—but because there was something oddly fascinating about watching this happen.

You chuckle low, stepping closer, invading his space. "Eddie, right? Still the same spoiled little shit, huh? Throwing yourself at strangers now?" He freezes, those dark eyes widening as the pieces click.

"Oh umm... Yeah, I'm Eddie. And... You are...?" he asked your name.

You told him.

Just like that.

The change was instant.

His smile froze. His brows knit together. He looked at me like he was trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces.

His mouth drops open, cheeks flushing red.

“…No way,” he said. “That’s not— You’re not—”

“I am,” You said calmly. He stared. Really stared this time, like if he looked hard enough, he’d see the old you underneath. The awkward kid. The one he’d brushed off so easily.

“You look… different,” he finally said.

“People do that,” I replied.

"Wait... no fucking way. You? The skinny from back then? Holy shit, what happened to you?" His voice cracks, shock mixing with something hungry, submissive. He stares at your face, tracing the chisel jaw, the broad chest, and you see the desperation flood his expression. Those heavy breasts heave with his quick breaths, nipples hardening visibly. He's crumbling already, the bratty facade cracking under the weight of your transformation. "Well, see ya. I have more important things to do than chatting with ya" You grin lightly as you walks out of the shop, leaving him all confused.

After that, everything shifted.

The flirting didn’t stop—but it changed. Got sharper. More intense. Like he was trying to prove something. Like he was trying to rewrite the past with better timing and better lines.

He laughed a little too loud. Complimented you a little too much. Found excuses to keep the conversation going even when it should’ve ended.

And you realized, with a strange kind of calm, that he wanted you now.

Really wanted you.

The irony wasn’t lost on either of you.

“You’re really not mad?” he asked at one point, quieter, like he was afraid of the answer.

You thought about it.

About the years of carrying that rejection. About the nights you’d wondered what was wrong with me. About how hard you’d worked to become someone you could be proud of—someone who didn’t need his approval.

“No,” You said honestly. “I’m not mad.”

That seemed to unsettle him more than anger would have.

You met his eyes, steady and unflinching.

“I’m just… done.”

Not cold. Not cruel. Just true.

And You could see it hit him, slow and heavy.

Because now, for the first time, he was the one wanting something he couldn’t have back.

One day at the usual shop as things twists into something desperate, his pupils blowing wide as he grabs your arm, nails digging in. "I didn't—I mean, fuck, I was an idiot. Please, can we talk about it again? I... I want you. Always did, deep down. Just didn't know it then." Jealousy flares in his eyes already, like he's picturing all the others who've wanted you since. He follows you to a corner table, practically begging with his body language—leaning forward so his heavy breasts rest on the edge, ass shifting in the seat. "Be mine," he whispers, voice cracking. "Please. I need you. Touch me, control me—do whatever. I know I fucked up, rejecting you like that. But I'm yours now. Begging. No one else gets this." His hand slides under the table, brushing your thigh, desperate for any contact. You let him stew, sipping your coffee, watching him squirm. You kind of feel disgusted of him and just wanted to walk away from the place. But... The power feels good, cold and absolute. Finally, you nod. "Fine. But you do what I say. And I remind you every time who's in charge."

-

In the evening, He practically drags you to his nearby apartment, the door barely shut before he's on you, mouth crashing against yours, tongue sloppy and needy. You push him back, pinning him to the wall with one hand around his throat—not hard, but firm enough to make him gasp. "Strip," you command, voice flat. He scrambles, yanking off his shirt to let those huge milky breasts bounce free, nipples hard and leaking a thin trail of milk down his chest. Pants next, revealing his plump juicy cunt, already glistening, lips swollen and begging. His big round ass jiggles as he bends to kick off his shoes, presenting himself like the spoiled slut he is.

You grab his wrists, forcing them above his head, your free hand slapping his ass hard enough to leave a red mark. He moans, arching back. "Ah! Please, fuck me. I've never—I'm a virgin. Saved it for someone who deserves it. You. Only you." His words tumble out, jealous edge sharpening as he imagines you with others. "Don't think about anyone else. I'm yours to break." You shove him onto the bed, spreading his thick thighs wide. His cunt drips onto the sheets, hole clenching emptily. You rub your hardening cock through your pants, letting him see. "Remember high school? How you called me pathetic? Rejected me rude, like I was nothing. Now look at you—begging for this dick in your hungry pussy."

He whimpers, nodding frantically, breasts heaving with each breath. "Yes, I'm sorry—fuck, just take me!" You yank his head back by the hair, exposing that slender neck and those massive tits, veins pulsing under the pale skin, nipples dark and leaking. Your mouth latches onto one, sucking hard, drawing out the warm milk that floods your tongue— sweet, thick, addictive. He moans loud, arching into you, his hands clutching your shoulders. "A-Ahh! Oh god, yes! suck them... harder..." But you pull back, wiping your mouth. "Pathetic. Look at you, dripping like a whore already. Do you forget that it's still me. The guy you told to fuck off when I poured my heart out. Remember that? How you made me feel like garbage?" He stammers, trying to pull back but not really fighting it. "I... I was a dick, okay? But look at you now. God, you're so hot. I didn't know— please, I—" You shove him back harder, your body pinning his softer one. Your hand shoots up, groping one of those heavy milky breasts roughly, squeezing hard enough to make him gasp. Milk leaks a little, soaking the fabric, and you smirk at his whimper. "Shut up. You don't get to beg yet. This is what you wanted back then? A real man to put you in your place?"

He nods frantically, eyes glazing over with need. "Yes, fuck, please... I was wrong. Take me, just—" He gasped as you unbuttoning his jeans roughly, shoving them down along with his panties. That plump juicy cunt stares back at you— swollen lips glistening, clit peeking out begging for attention, framed by his thick thighs and that jiggling ass. You dive in without mercy, tongue flattening against his slick folds, lapping up the tangy juices that coat your chin. He bucks against your face, crying out, "Ah- hah! ngh! Fuck, your tongue... it's so good... don't stop!"

You suck on his clit, teeth grazing just enough to make him yelp, then shove two fingers into his tight, soaking hole, curling them to hit that spot that makes his legs shake. "Oh god, your fingers... so deep. I've wanted this since—" "Since you threw me away,' you remind him coldly 'Remember rejecting me?" you growl against his cunt, vibrations making him shudder. 'Now you're the one spreading your legs for the guy you threw away. How's that feel, Eddie? Getting eaten out by your mistake?' You curl your fingers, hitting that spot that makes his knees buckle, his juices dripping down your hand. He cums fast, pussy spasming, squirting a little onto the tile floor, but you don't stop. 'That's right, cum for the guy you rejected. Your hungry pussy knows who owns it now.'

Tears mix with his moans, humiliation burning in his eyes, but his hips grind harder, chasing the pleasure. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry for rejecting you. I was spoiled, stupid. Punish me with your dick.... fuck me, please... I need your cock..." You stand, unzipping your pants, your thick cock springing free— hard, veined, throbbing with years of pent-up revenge. You spin him around, bending him over, that big round ass presented like a gift. You slap it hard, watching the flesh ripple, then line up and thrust in deep—No prep, no mercy, stretching his virgin juicy cunt around your girth —breaking his virgin barrier with one brutal push. He screams, pussy stretching wide around your dick, blood mixing with his cream as you bottom out. 'Tight little virgin slut,' you grunt, slamming in deep, balls slapping his ass. "This cunt's mine now. Beg for it while I remind you—you rejected this cock once." He screams, walls clenching tight, milking you as you pound relentlessly.

"Hah! Ah! I did, I'm sorry! fuck! Mmh! Too big—oh god, yes! harder! Your dick's splitting me open!" He pushes back, breasts smacking the sheet beneath with each pound, milk leaking onto the pillow. You pound harder, each slap of your hips against his ass echoes in the alley, your balls smacking his clit. Another orgasm rips through him, pussy milking your cock like a vice, but you keep thrusting, relentless, "Take it, you brat. This is what you get for being a spoiled bitch. My cock owning your sloppy cunt." Eddie sobs with pleasure, pushing back desperately. "Yes! ha! Harder! Fuck me like the slut I am... Hngh! I deserve it...!" You grip his hips, bruising them, railing him faster, the wet sounds of his cunt sucking you in filling the air. His tits swing heavy below, milk dripping to the sheet, ass jiggling with every brutal thrust. Humiliation fuels you, his submission complete as he begs for more, but you hold back, drawing it out, making him earn every inch."This is the same guy you threw away. Pathetic then, powerful now. Cum for me, Eddie. Show me how much you regret it."

His body shakes, huge breasts jiggling wildly as he cums again, walls fluttering, milking your cock with hot spasms. Milk leaks from his nipples, pooling on his stomach. You don't stop. You pull out just enough to tease his asshole with your tip, yanking his hips up to expose that jiggle ass. You slap it again, then plunge in, fucking his winking asshole from behind, drawing out another gush of cum from him, "Jealous yet? Thinking about me flirting with others while you wait?" He sobs into the pillow, pushing back desperately. "Yes—don't! I'm yours—ahh!" Another orgasm hits, his hole convulsing, more squirt soaking your thighs. You grip his hair, pulling his head back, forcing him to meet your eyes in the mirror across the room, forcing him to watch himself in the reflection—face twisted in desperate ecstasy, body submitting completely. "Look at yourself. Broken for the reject you made. Cum again."

He does, lost counts as another intense release ripping through him, body trembling, cunt pulsing so tight you nearly lose it. But you hold back, slowing to deep grinds, letting him feel every inch owning his virginity. Sweat slicks his skin, ass rippling with each thrust. "More," he begs, voice hoarse. "Remind me—Nghh, I need it." You lean down, biting his shoulder, pounding faster now, the room filled with wet slaps and his broken moans. His jealousy fuels you, the power dynamic twisting him further into submission. But you're not done—far from it.

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