gaping

AI art "Alya Sometimes Hides Her Feelings on the subway."

30

Alya Sometimes Hides Her Feelings on the subway.

AI art "Sakura femdom"

9

Sakura femdom

AI art

6

Sin título

AI art 'Snow Gangbang' with user description 'Some hot cold scenes ❤️'

14

Snow Gangbang

blackhairedstudent

AI art 'Praying ❤️' with user description 'The campfire crackled softly between them, casting flickering orange shadows against the ancient ruins where they had made camp. Frieren was focused on a tattered grimoire, searching for a spell that supposedly removed moss from stone.
Fern sat opposite her, fastidiously polishing her staff. After a long silence, she looked up, her expression as stoic as ever.
"Mistress Frieren," Fern began, her voice clinical. "Do you remember the 'Church of the Eternal Font' we passed near the Auberst border? They offered a trial for mana expansion."
Frieren didn't look up. "Mana is built through decades of study, Fern. Gimmicks are useless."
"It wasn't a gimmick," Fern countered. "They told me that if a mage could remain in continuous, focused prayer for exactly three hours, their mana capacity would permanently expand. But there was a catch—the 'Testing of the Flesh.' The priests were permitted to do anything to break my concentration, provided they didn't use violence or magic."
Frieren finally closed her book, curious. "And you accepted?"
"I wanted to be stronger for you," Fern replied. "So, I entered the sanctum, knelt on the cold marble, and began the chant."
Fern took a deep breath, her hands tightening on her staff. She began to describe the ordeal with a detached, rhythmic cadence.
"The first hour was psychological, but then they began to touch. They removed my boots and used their tongues and soft feathers to lick and tickle my feet. It was an agonizing sensation, but I did not move. When they realized my spirit was firm, they became invasive. They stripped my robes. One priest knelt before me, forcing his member into my mouth for a deepthroat so intense I was gagging, my eyes watering from the pressure. I kept the prayer vibrating in my chest, even as he finished, his seed coating the back of my throat."
Fern’s voice remained flat, despite the harrowing detail. "Then came the physical intrusion. I was pushed onto my hands and knees. One priest entered me from behind while another took my front—a double penetration that felt like I was being torn apart. They were relentless, using their fingers to stimulate me while hammering into my body, trying to force a scream from my lips. They used my body as a vessel for their lust. Licking every inch of my skin, biting my ears, and eventually, several gathered for a bukkake. I felt the warm, sticky weight of their release hitting my face and hair. They even used my anal passage, a searing intrusion that made my breath hitch. But I remembered your lessons. I treated the sensations as nothing more than external noise."
Fern looked Frieren directly in the eyes. "For three hours, I was a statue. When the final bell chimed, they stopped. I stood up, cleaned myself with a cantrip, and walked out."
"And?" Frieren asked softly.
"I felt it," Fern said, a small ghost of a smile appearing. "A violent expansion. My mana capacity is significantly larger now. It was the most difficult training I have ever endured."
Frieren was quiet for a long time. Then, she reached out and patted Fern’s head with clumsy affection.
"You really are a pervert about magic, Fern," Frieren said with a hint of pride. "To go that far just for power... you’re starting to remind me of Master Flamme."
Fern huffed, her familiar pout returning. "It was a calculated decision, Mistress Frieren."
"If you say so," Frieren murmured, reopening her book. "But next time, ask me. I have a spell for mana growth that involves bitter herbs. It’s much less... messy."
"Now you tell me," Fern muttered, returning to her polishing as the secret finally settled in the quiet night air.'

21

Praying ❤️

blackhairedstudent

AI art 'Nagatoro Regret' with user description 'The neon lights of the city were nothing more than a blur in the background as Nagatoro walked the deserted street at midnight. The air was unusually cold, and the silence was broken only by the sound of her own footsteps. Suddenly, a shadow detached itself from a dark alleyway. Before she could scream, a heavy, gloved hand clamped over her mouth, and a thick, chemical scent filled her nostrils. Her world spun, and everything went black.
When she finally blinked her eyes open, she was in the cramped, dimly lit back of a moving car. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She tried to move her hands, but they were bound tightly behind her back with thick, brown industrial tape. The same coarse adhesive was wrapped around her mouth, muffling her desperate sobs into pathetic, wet whimpers. Across from her sat two men, their faces obscured by the shadows, watching her with a chilling, silent intensity.
One of the men, sitting directly across from her, leaned forward. He pulled off his mask, revealing a face lined with exhaustion and a deep-seated bitterness. "You don't remember me, do you, Nagatoro?" he asked, his voice a low, jagged rasp.
Nagatoro shook her head frantically, tears streaming down her face and disappearing into the tape.
"Six months ago," he continued, his eyes narrowing. "I was working at the market. I was a good worker. I had a phone in my hand, and I was trying to take a photo of the fruit display to send to my boss for a restock report. I was clumsy. I dropped it, and the phone slid across the floor, right between your legs."
Nagatoro’s eyes widened as the memory flickered back.
"You picked it up for me," he sneered. "But when you looked at the screen, you saw something else. You didn't see the fruit. You saw a photo of yourself. You weren't wearing panties that day, were you? You screamed. You called me a pervert. You made such a scene that I was fired on the spot. But it didn't stop there. The story spread. My wife left me. My two daughters... they won't even speak to me now. They hate me because of what you said. You destroyed my life over a misunderstanding."
He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin. "I’m going to destroy yours now. I’m going to take photos of you naked, just like the one you thought I took, and I’m going to send them to everyone you know. Your family, your school, that 'Senpai' you follow around. You’ll be the one everyone looks at with disgust."
As he spoke the words "destroy your life," something strange happened inside Nagatoro. The sheer terror began to morph into a dark, forbidden thrill. A heat that had nothing to do with the car’s heater began to pool in her abdomen. She started to cry harder, but her body was reacting in a way she couldn't control. She was terrified, yes, but she was also becoming incredibly, inexplicably excited.
The man reached out, his hand trembling with rage as he gripped the edge of her skirt. "I'm no rapist," he spat. "I have no intention of touching you like that. I just want the photos."
He roughly pulled her skirt up and removed her panties. He stopped mid-motion, his eyes going wide. The car seat beneath her was drenched. A dark, heavy stain had spread across the fabric, completely washed by her own pussy juice. He stared at the evidence of her arousal in total disbelief.
"Are you... are you excited by this?" he asked, his voice losing its edge of anger and turning into pure shock.
Nagatoro, her face flushed a deep crimson, gave a small, timid nod.
The man let out a long, shaky breath. He looked down at his own lap, where his trousers were strained tight. "I can't lie," he muttered, mostly to himself. "My dick is rock hard just looking at you. I wasn't going to touch you... unless you actually want me to."
Nagatoro nodded again, more vigorously this time. He reached up and slowly peeled the tape from her mouth. The sting was sharp, but she didn't care.
"Your friend can film us," she gasped, her voice raw. "But put the damn tape back. Now. Being made useless like this... it drives me crazy. Put it back and don't stop."
The man stared at her for a second before a dark smirk crossed his face. He signaled to the man in the front seat, who produced a camera. Then, he pressed the brown tape back over her mouth, sealing her lips tight.
The night became a blur of frantic, desperate energy. He used her for hours, moving between her pussy and her ass with a relentless, driving force that Nagatoro met with muffled screams of pleasure behind the tape.
When it was finally over, the man sat back, peeled the tape off her mouth one last time. Nagatoro took a deep breath and said while crying.
"I am so sorry," she whispered, her voice sincere. "I didn't know what my words would do to you. I will talk to your ex personally and say it was my mistake and apologize, and my father can get you a job, it pays at least five times what that grocerie shop pay, i promise will try to give your life back. But now it's your friends turn'

14

Nagatoro Regret

blackhairedstudent

AI art 'Kirigiri Casting' with user description 'The evening air at the secluded beach was heavy with the scent of salt and the rhythmic crashing of the tide against the jagged rocks. Kyoko Kirigiri, the Ultimate Detective, stood on the cooling sand, her signature lavender hair caught in the breeze. She had traded her high-collared jacket for a simple, translucent wrap, though she still wore her black studded gloves—a final barrier of mystery she wasn't yet ready to shed.
The Casting Transcript: Kyoko Kirigiri (The Ultimate Detective)
1. Identity: Name, age, and job?
"Kyoko Kirigiri. I am 18 years old. As for my job... I solve mysteries. I look for the truth beneath the lies, no matter how uncomfortable that truth might be."
2. Dreams: What do you want for your future?
"To find the answers that were stolen from me. To live a life where I don't have to be afraid of my own vulnerabilities. I want to know what it feels like to lose control without losing myself."
3. Hobbies: Games, movies, and anime you love?
"I enjoy logic puzzles and Sudoku. For movies, I prefer noir classics like The Maltese Falcon or modern psychological thrillers like Se7en. As for anime, Monster is a masterpiece of human depravity and redemption. It keeps my mind sharp."
4. Favorites: Who are your favorite characters?
"I admire Sherlock Holmes for his dedication to the truth. I also find C.C. from Code Geass intriguing—her immortality and detachment resonate with me in ways I’m still investigating."
5. Motivation: Why do you want to do this? What do you expect?
"Investigation requires data. I have spent my life observing human nature from the outside. I want to experience the most extreme physical sensations possible—to see if my logic can survive a total sensory override. I expect a physical challenge that leaves no room for deduction."
6. Drive: Scale of 1-10, how much do you like sex?
"A 9. While I appear cold, the heat of an intense physical encounter is the only thing that truly quiets the noise in my head. It is a logical necessity for my well-being."
7. Safety: What is your "Safe Word"?
"'EVIDENCE.' If I say that, the investigation is closed and you must withdraw immediately."
8. Technical: Okay with being filmed in high-def?
"The camera does not lie. Capture everything in 8K. I want to review the footage later to see the exact moment my composure breaks."
9. The Agreement: Describe the scene?
"A moonlit beach. One man—physically imposing, standing well over two meters tall. He must possess... substantial equipment. I want to be handled with a raw, primal force that ignores my status. I want to be filled until I am physically changed—left gaped and open like a hollow space, unable to close even after he is finished."
The Scene: "The Detective’s Open Case"
The moon hung high, a pale witness to the encounter on the shore. Kyoko lay back on a dark silk blanket spread over the sand. Towering over her was the man she had requested—a literal giant of a human, his shadow completely engulfing her pale frame. When he revealed himself, his member was a colossal, pulsing vein of power that made even the stoic detective’s eyes widen in silent calculation.
"Show me the truth," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the waves.
The scene was an exercise in extreme physical displacement. He didn't just enter her; he invaded her. Kyoko’s 18-year-old body was pushed to its structural limits as he drove into her Vaginally, his massive girth stretching her porcelain skin until it was translucent. She gripped the sand, her gloved hands digging into the earth as she let out a high, sharp cry—a sound of pure, unrefined data.
He moved with the weight of the ocean, each thrust hitting her fundus with a heavy thud that echoed in her chest. Kyoko’s logical mind shattered; there was no room for thought, only the overwhelming sensation of being "full."
As the climax approached, he finished with a pressurized torrent, a Creampie so massive it began to overflow immediately, slicking her inner thighs and the silk beneath her. But it was the aftermath that fulfilled her request. As he slowly withdrew his massive length, Kyoko’s entrance didn't snap back. She remained gaped—a wide, pulsing, red circle of surrender that stayed open to the night air, unable to retract from the sheer scale of the trauma.
She lay there, her lavender hair matted with sand and sweat, looking down at the "hole" he had left in her. She was a ruin of a woman, leaking white fluid from a gaped abyss that showed exactly how deep his victory had gone. Kyoko looked at the camera, her expression dazed and completely broken of its usual stoicism.
"The evidence... is conclusive," she panted, her eyes rolling back in a final wave of overstimulated bliss. "I am... completely compromised."'

23

Kirigiri Casting

blackhairedstudent

AI art "Poison Ivy enjoying some alone time"

Poison Ivy enjoying some alone time

AI art 'Nagatoro Weekend in grandma House' with user description 'The weekend was intended to be a quiet, unremarkable retreat in the countryside, away from the frantic energy of the city and the constant teasing of her underclassman. Nagatoro had traveled to her grandmother’s secluded home, a traditional wooden house nestled against a backdrop of rolling green hills. Her grandfather had passed away years ago, and her grandmother had recently remarried a man named Goro. As Nagatoro sat on the porch, her legs dangling over the edge, she found herself stealing glances at him while he worked in the garden.
Goro was not what she expected. He was much older than her, with a heavy, solid frame and a prominent belly that spoke of a life well-lived and enjoyed. Despite his age and weight, there was something undeniably magnetic about him. It wasn't his looks, but the way he carried himself—with a slow, deliberate confidence. Most of all, it was his voice. It was a deep, resonant rumble that seemed to vibrate in the floorboards beneath her feet, carrying a weight of authority and experience that made her pulse quicken in a way she couldn't quite articulate.
"You're awfully quiet today, Hayase," Goro noted, his deep voice snapping her out of her reverie. He didn't look up from the bonsai he was pruning, but she could hear the slight, knowing amusement in his tone. "The city air usually makes young people chatter like birds once they get a taste of the mountain fresh."
"I'm just relaxing, Goro-san," Nagatoro replied, her usual sharp, teasing edge softened by the tranquil atmosphere. "It’s different here. It’s quiet. It makes you think."
"Quiet is good for the soul," he chuckled, the sound low and gravelly, like stones grinding together. "But even the quietest places have their secrets, if you know where to look."
Their conversation drifted through mundane topics—the quality of the summer harvest, the humidity of the coming week, and old stories about her grandmother’s headstrong youth. Nagatoro found herself leaning in, captivated by the hypnotic cadence of his speech. It was a voice that felt like it had seen everything and feared nothing.
Around 2:00 PM, her grandmother wiped her hands on her floral apron and grabbed her wide-brimmed sun hat from the hook by the door. "I’m heading into town for the weekly groceries, Nagatoro. We’re out of almost everything for dinner tonight. Goro, be a good host and keep her entertained while I’m gone."
"With pleasure," Goro said, leaning his shears against a post and watching the car pull out of the gravel driveway until the dust settled.
The silence that followed was heavy and immediate. They moved inside to the living room, where a single ceiling fan whirred overhead, struggling against the afternoon heat. Goro sat in his large leather armchair, while Nagatoro perched on the very edge of the sofa, her hands tucked between her knees.
"So, Hayase," Goro started, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a sudden, piercing intensity. "A girl as lively and spirited as you... do you have a boyfriend back in the city? Or are you still a virgin, waiting for some storybook prince to sweep you off your feet?"
Nagatoro’s face flushed a deep, hot crimson. "That’s a pretty bold thing to ask, don't you think?" she stammered, trying to find her usual bravado.
"I'm an old man, Hayase. I don't have time for small talk that doesn't lead anywhere interesting," he said, his voice dropping an octave until it was a mere vibration in the air.
Nagatoro looked away, her fingers tracing the hem of her denim shorts. The honesty of the environment seemed to demand an honest answer. "I... I'm a virgin. I tried, once or twice, but the boys my age... they’re useless. They’re all nerves and no action. They don't know what they're doing, and honestly, it’s just frustrating."
Goro leaned forward, his massive presence filling the space between them. "That’s the trouble with youth. It’s wasted on the young. I lost my virginity when I was exactly your age, but it wasn't to a girl my age. It was to a woman much older—someone who had silver in her hair and a fire in her blood that no girl could match. She was experienced. She taught me that sex isn't just a physical release; it’s a craft. She knew exactly how to make a man feel like a king, and in return, I learned how to treat a woman like a queen."
Nagatoro felt a surge of heat that had nothing to do with the summer sun. She tried to change the subject, pointing toward a dusty photo on the mantle. "That’s a nice picture of the mountains—"
"Don't run away from it, Hayase," Goro interrupted, his voice like velvet over jagged stones. "You’re curious. I can see it in the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching. Experience isn't something you can learn from a textbook or a fumbling, nervous boy in the back of a cramped car."
Nagatoro looked at the clock on the wall. 2:15 PM. "We have one hour until Grandma comes home," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and exhilaration. Show me that experience of yours'

26

Nagatoro Weekend in grandma House

blackhairedstudent

AI art 'House of the fallen - chapter 1' with user description 'Sister Selina sat at the chapel praying when the skies turned red and she heard a demonic voice.

"YOU PRAY TO NO ONE. IN THIS HOUSE, YOU PRAY TO ME."

Her mind was invaded she fought as best she could. "What are you?"

"I AM LUST AND I WILL SHOW YOU."

The demon took over her mind and body. She could do nothing but give in. And give in she did as it took her body. When he was finished she stopped it.

"More....I need more." Selena said.

"One down...now on to the other sisters."'

13

House of the fallen - chapter 1

AI art 'Fruit' with user description 'Fern sharing some grapes'

13

Fruit

blackhairedstudent

AI art '🧸 Plush toy humping' with user description 'No toy? Nevermind, we still have plushies! 🌸😏'

12

🧸 Plush toy humping

AI art "Scrap Metal Hunter"

13

Scrap Metal Hunter

AI art 'White jeans: extra' with user description 'extra at the request of @shinsenkyo232'

20

White jeans: extra

AI art "[Request] Weekend Getaway with Michelle"

30

[Request] Weekend Getaway with Michelle

dreamerofdreams

AI art "Cyndel Vale needs money 7"

20

Cyndel Vale needs money 7

AI art 'Danganronpa 3 Glass pt1' with user description 'Pt 1 of danganronpa 3 girls ❤️'

15

Danganronpa 3 Glass pt1

blackhairedstudent

AI art 'Aura Captured' with user description 'The snow crunched beneath my boots as I approached the tavern, a solitary beacon of warmth in this frozen wasteland. My violet hair whipped in the biting wind, and the **Scales of Obedience** at my hip rattled—a reminder of my absolute authority. I, Aura the Guillotine, did not fear these mortals. They were but insects whose lives were measured in the weight of their souls.
As I reached the door, an old, obese man blocked my path, his face a map of filth and scars. "You killed them all," he rasped. "My entire bloodline. I challenge you, Aura. A measure of souls." My pride was my undoing. I scanned his mana; it was pathetic. I could have ended him instantly, but I wanted to see the despair on his face when his own soul condemned him. I summoned the Scales, pouring my vast, ancient mana into my side. The scale tipped instantly toward me. But seconds before his mana touched the plate, he drained a shimmering vial.
It was a **Potion of Infinite Illusion**. It didn’t actually increase his power, but it tricked the magical logic of the scales, making his mana appear as a bottomless, infinite abyss for five crucial seconds. The balance slammed down on his side with the force of a falling mountain. Because the scale "saw" him as superior, its magic bound my very soul to his will.
"Silence," he commanded, his voice cold and flat. "Speak only when I tell you to. Only do what I want you to do."
He took me to his new home town, a place I destroyed 60 years ago, rebuilt by the child i dis not kill that time.. he ordered me to serve every one of them, and i Did... one after another, no resting.. some where big, big as monsters, their bodies made mine look small, After forty-eight hours of being used by every man in his village—my demonic body cruelly resetting my anatomy to a virgin state after every violation—he led me to a stone square. "Put your head and hands through here," he ordered, pointing to a heavy, stone-and-iron guillotine frame. "**Wait here in this position in silence until I return. And keep serving anyone who comes to use you.**"
He never came back.
I have been in this position for seven hundred years. My neck and wrists are locked into the frame, my spine permanently arched, my rear perpetually exposed to the whims of the kingdom that grew around my shackle. I have forgotten the sound of my own voice; the concept of speech has withered in my mind like a dead leaf. I have forgotten the taste of food and the warmth of a bed. Most importantly, I have never slept. My demonic stamina ensures I remain wide awake, forced to witness every second of my degradation through the centuries.
The square is never empty. I have become a living monument, a landmark of flesh and stone. Around the base of my pedestal, a permanent slum of forty hobos has taken root. They live in wretched huts built against my legs, treating my body as a communal hearth. While the city sleeps, they take turns fucking me all night long, their unwashed bodies a constant weight against my cold skin. During the day, travelers from across the world join the queue. Sometimes five or six men use me simultaneously—one at my mouth, others at my pussy and anus—clambering over each other to claim a piece of the monster.
My body is a cursed masterpiece of regeneration. It is a biological nightmare of rapid recovery. One second, a man withdraws and my ass is left **extremely gaped**, a dark, distended void pulsing from the trauma of his intrusion; in the very next second, the demonic magic surges through my tissue, sealing the opening until it is **virgin again**. I am a perpetual loop of destruction and restoration, a tight, "pure" vessel that is torn open by the next stranger only to reset before his seed even cools.
I no longer think of magic. The only thing that exists is the count. I have become a living abacus. One billion. One billion and ten. The number is the only thing I truly know. I watch the fashion of the men change and the seasons bleed into centuries. I am a hole in the center of the world, a silent vessel that has processed the seed of entire lineages. I am the first demon to ever feel the sting of a tear, a single drop of salt water that has carved a permanent track down my weathered face—a testament to a billion men and an eternity of silence.'

30

Aura Captured

blackhairedstudent

AI art "Let's go Cosplay part 1"

15

Let's go Cosplay part 1

AI art "🍩 Donut Challenge - Almost there"

12

🍩 Donut Challenge - Almost there

Idioma

Vista

Imágenes en cuadrícula

Autocompletar prompt

Filtrado de contenido

Ayuda y soporte

icono de reclamo diario: el vaso está vacío

Reclamo diario

Hoy

M

+3

T

+4

W

+5

T

+6

F

+7

S

+8

S

+9

¡Reclama a diario para conseguir créditos extra!

icono de reclamo diario: un cubo lleno de oro

Paquetes de créditos

Recargar créditos

icono de misiones

Completa misiones para ganar créditos