Love me Back! 🔞 (ONE SHOT)
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)
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
