For this video gen I used the WAN2.2 WAN 2.2 I2V 14B Lightspeed (S) High/Low models from https://civitai.com/models/1981116?modelVersionId=2388548 . I used the ComfyUI workflow from the same creator at https://civitai.com/models/1823089

This video uses the LORA https://civitai.red/models/2500507/asymmetrical-paizuri?modelVersionId=2810829

The dim, golden lamplight of the shadowed bedroom painted everything in warm honey and deep shadow, but Tifa Lockhart stood at the center of it all like a goddess carved from moonlight and sin. Her body was a living explosion of curves—massive, heaving, impossibly huge breasts that defied every law of gravity and sanity, each one heavier than a full-grown man’s torso, round and heavy and tipped with soft pink areolas already glistening with a thin sheen of saliva. The white fur of her belly and the heavy undersides of those glorious orbs caught the light like fresh cream, while the grey-furred swells of her hips and the powerful white thighs framed the obscene weight between them. Her ears twitched at every distant creak of the old house, her thick black mane spilling over one shoulder like wet ink, and those fiery red eyes burned straight into yours with a predatory hunger that made your cock throb against your own palm.

She knelt before you on the rumpled sheets, back arched like a bow, massive chest thrust forward until the valley between her breasts was a deep, dark canyon of soft white fur and throbbing flesh. The black harness straps bit gently into her shoulders, but they did nothing to stop the way those colossal orbs jiggled with every slow breath she took—jiggled, bounced, swayed—each movement making the heavy weight slap softly against the other. Sweat beaded along the deep cleavage, mixing with the first clear strings of saliva that already dripped from the tip of her long pink tongue, which lolled out of her open mouth in a helpless, panting display. Her claws—dark and tipped with silver-blue metal—flexed on her own breasts, nails scraping lightly over the sensitive pink nipples until they tightened into stiff little peaks.

Without a word from you, she leaned in. The heat of her breath ghosted across the swollen head of your cock, and the first wet, velvet slide of her tongue began—slow, deliberate, dragging from base to tip in one long, rough lap that left a shining trail of saliva behind. You felt it everywhere: the rough, warm pad of her tongue, the faint tickle of her fangs scraping just under the head, the salty-sweet taste of her mouth flooding your senses as she took you deeper. Her lips stretched wide around the girth, cheeks hollowing, throat working as she swallowed you until her muzzle pressed flush against your groin and her nose nestled into the soft fur of your pelvis. Then she pulled back just enough to let the tip pop free with a wet, obscene sound, strings of saliva connecting her tongue to your pulsing shaft like golden threads.

Her red eyes never left yours. A soft, throaty moan vibrated through her chest—deep, rumbling, vibrating straight into your balls. “Mmmph… fuck, you taste so good,” she purred, voice husky and dripping with lust, but the words were only half the show. She shifted again, pushing those impossible breasts together with both hands until the cleavage became an even tighter, tighter tunnel of white fur and soft, yielding flesh. The weight was obscene—each tit squishing outward under her own grip, the inner curves forming two perfect, pillowy walls that swallowed your entire length at once. The heat was suffocating, the pressure maddening, the way the fur tickled and teased every vein on your cock sending sparks up your spine.

She began to move. Up and down. Slow at first, letting you feel every inch drag through the tight, wet heat of her cleavage, then faster—hips rolling, breasts bouncing with hypnotic rhythm, the heavy slap-slap of them against your thighs echoing through the quiet room. Saliva poured from her mouth in a constant, glossy trickle, coating your shaft, dripping down her chin, sliding in rivulets between the massive orbs and making everything slick and obscene. You could smell her—musky, warm, feminine heat mixed with the sweet tang of her arousal, the faint metallic bite of her claws on her own skin. Every breath she took made her tits rise and fall like twin waves, the pink nipples dragging against your balls, the sensitive skin inside the cleavage so achingly tender you thought you might explode right there.

Her tail—thick, white-furred and tipped in black—lashed behind her, brushing the backs of your thighs. Her claws dug into the soft undersides of her own breasts, squeezing harder, forcing the cleavage tighter until the tip of your cock was almost hidden in the deep, dark folds of her cleavage. She leaned forward again, tongue darting out to lick broad, sloppy stripes along the entire length while her breasts kept pumping—faster now, wetter, the sound of her mouth and the wet squash of her tits filling the room like a symphony of filthy pleasure. Her red eyes were half-lidded, cheeks flushed dark, a single tear of overwhelmed lust sliding down one cheek as she watched you throb helplessly between those impossible, creamy orbs.

The pressure built like a storm. Her hips rolled faster, breasts bouncing so hard they threatened to slap your face with every stroke. You felt every detail— the velvet squeeze of her cleavage, the rough rasp of her tongue flicking across the sensitive underside, the constant trickle of saliva turning the entire scene into a wet, glistening mess, the heavy slap of her tits against your groin, the way her nipples scraped your skin like velvet fire. Her voice broke into a broken, needy whine between moans. “Ahh—! Yes—! Don’t stop—fuck, I’m so close—”

Then she pulled back just far enough for one final, devastating squeeze. Her breasts were mashed together around your cock like twin warm pillows, the white fur slick with saliva and precum, every inch of her massive chest trembling with the effort. Her tongue lashed out in a frenzy, licking the head in tight, frantic circles while her hips stuttered and her entire body shook. The wet, obscene squelch of her tits milking you was deafening. You felt the first hot spurt erupt deep inside the tight tunnel of her cleavage—then the second, the third, flooding her so full that the excess sprayed out in thick, pearly ropes that arced over her chin and landed on her cheek, her lips, her tongue still curled around the tip like she was begging for more.

She kept milking you through every pulse, breasts jiggling and bouncing as the last heavy spurts painted her face and chest in hot, endless ropes of cum. Her red eyes rolled back, tongue still out, drooling as she swallowed the last few drops that splashed onto her own lips. The room filled with the wet, filthy sounds of her body working you dry—slap, squelch, moan, breath—and when the last drop finally leaked from the tip of your cock and landed on her heaving, cum-smeared breasts, Tifa Lockhart let out a long, trembling moan of pure satisfaction, her massive chest rising and falling in heavy, satisfied pulses while thick strands of your release clung to her white fur and pink nipples like glossy pearls.

She stayed there, kneeling in the mess she had made of herself, red eyes locked on yours with a lazy, utterly sated smile, tongue still flicking out to lap at the last stray drops from her own breasts as if they were the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

And the night was still young.