Dominant Male Novels & Stories

Lillian Shaw's childhood sweetheart, Morgan Sullivan, has gotten bullied by others for five long years for her sake. Because of that, he's afflicted with depression. Thanks to Morgan's depression, Lillian has abandoned me countless times just to be with him. Every time, she'll just explain the same thing to me. "I'm just repaying Morgan for his act of kindness from before. Don't overthink it." On the eve of our wedding, I've told Lillian to not invite Morgan to our wedding for fear that he might get affected. Lillian agrees to comply. But on the day of the wedding that I've been looking forward to for five long years, I witness Morgan showing up in a fancy suit.

After my wife, Princess Keisha Peyton, spent a reckless night with her adopted brother, I chose to abandon her and our child and return to my original world. But the next year, the system suddenly came to find me. [Host... could you go back for a while? The target has been trying to break through dimensions to find you. And your child... he's also a bit mentally unstable...] I looked down at the cancer diagnosis I had just received and sighed. "Fine. I'll go back." When I returned, I became the perfect prince consort. I no longer demanded monogamy. Instead, I even started actively selecting male companions to bring into Keisha's household. I also dismissed the tutors who had been pushing my son to study, allowing him to join the military camps while he was still young. I rarely went out and kept the princess's estate running flawlessly. But when Keisha saw all this, she went crazy—smashing every ornament in the room. "I already sent Gregory away," she said. "What are you trying to do, tormenting me like this?" Our son, Thomas Peyton, stood there tearfully. "I'll never say again that Mother can have many male companions because she's a princess. And I'll never mention Gregory again either. Father, please stop making a scene, okay?"

Due to my heightened sensitivity, even the slightest touch causes an uncontrollable reaction. My husband, concerned, sends me to the hospital for treatment. As I lie on the operating table, the attending doctor unexpectedly triggers a wave of intense response from me—right in front of my husband.

"Please help me, Kyle. I think a flea got under my dress while I was walking the dog. It itches so badly." My goddaughter came to me in distress after being bitten by fleas in an unfortunate spot during her evening walk. What started as an innocent request for help with the itching soon became more complicated when she insisted I needed to help her with the problem more directly.

One night, as I was making my way to the bathroom around 3 a.m., I saw my dormmate, Yvonne, squatting in front of our door. She was rearranging all our shoes so that their tips were pointed inward. I thought it was funny, so I rearranged them to have their tips pointed outward. The next day, I found that all of them had been positioned inward again. This kept happening for a week, and I continued to scramble things up, hiding the shoes, even, or tying the shoelaces together. But they always ended up being repositioned neatly inward. I started observing my dormmate and found her mumbling to the shoes while squatting at the door. I ranted about it online, only to have my first reply send chills down my spine. [Do you also get the weird feeling that something paranormal is happening around you? You have to move out before it’s too late!]

Some time ago, I was a delivery boy. One day, I received an order to deliver adult toys. When I went to the hotel room, I found a beautiful woman kneeling on a bed with her back turned to me. She only wore a thong. At that moment, I received a message on the delivery app. "Use the toys to bring her pleasure. If you do well, I will reward you with one hundred thousand dollars."

After I fail to win over the hearts of all three female leads, the system tells me that I can return to my original world as long as my body dies in this world. So, I happily order myself a grand meal of carb-based food in the dark basement. After eating my fill, I pull out a coil of rope and get ready to hang myself. But just as I'm about to stick my head through the noose, I suddenly see comments floating before my eyes. "Don't do it, Daniel! Elena's just mistreating you because she feels that she should make it up to Ryan! You're actually her favorite brother!" "That's right! The same applies to your fiancee! Ryan has saved her before, after all! The truth is, whenever she hurts you, she feels her heart wrenching in pain at the same time!" "Your childhood friend feels nothing but guilt for Ryan. Daniel, don't ever give up, and don't take your own life. If you die, the three of them will go crazy for real!"

On the day a dispute broke out between my students, I saw Samantha again—the girl I had broken up with ten years ago; the girl who had been fighting wiped away her tears and cried out for her mother. Samantha froze when she saw me. After a long moment, she seemed to remember herself and quickly apologized. "Mr. Brooke, I'm sorry for causing you trouble." I handled the compensation matter strictly by the book. When everything was settled, she lingered behind the others, clearly wanting to speak but hesitating. "I remember you didn't want to be a teacher back then," she said. I smiled faintly and walked her to the office door. "People change. So do their thoughts." Just like my feelings for her—those had been turned over long ago.

"Mr. Clarke, can you help me get rid of the tattoo on my butt?" The young man asks me for help with red-rimmed eyes. A lot of people have specifically requested me to tattoo something on their body. Honestly, this is the first time I've received a request to remove a tattoo from one's butt. He grits his teeth, as though he has finally made up his mind. "I just found out that my girlfriend has a husband! I want to break up with her, so I must get rid of the tattoo!" I nod in response. "Strip down and let me see the area and the mass covered." The man hesitates for a moment before turning his back on me and slowly taking off his pants. As soon as his right buttcheek is revealed, I feel my breath getting hitched in my throat. My wife, Annie Sylvester's face is actually tattooed on that area.

I never wanted to gamble, yet I could not stop myself from going to the tables. I kept losing, over and over, until I was buried under ten million in debt. After investigating the cause, I finally learned the truth–my older brother had placed me under a puppet-like control. Every loss was recorded under my name, while all the winnings went straight into his pocket. My wife was furious. She slapped me, took our son, and divorced me. I tried to explain myself again and again, but she refused to listen. "Nathan, can you stop making excuses? Did someone hold a knife to your throat? You chose to gamble." After that, my brother only grew more ruthless, raising the stakes until I lost everything overnight. With nothing left, my creditors chopped off my limbs and threw me into the sea, leaving me to drown. Even after my death, they did not spare my wife and child. She was humiliated to death, and my son was sold overseas, his whereabouts unknown. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I first lost control and went to the gambling den.