167
anger vein

anger vein

0 Follower
1girlbreastsblushheterouncensorednudepenissolo focuslong hair1boylarge breastsasssweatindoorscompletely nudelooking at viewershort hairnipplessexpussypubic hairtesticlesmale pubic hairerectioncumclosed mouththighssolosex from behindteeth
AI art '💀 Grim Reaper Girl' with user description '@warmicestudios @zuzul @cef_ultra @bad77 @parda @octavian @zesoul, what are your impressions? Certainly not exactly the playful catgirls, right? 😼 Skulls were not supposed to be everywhere, just on the scythe, but, well, AI decided otherwise 😁'
16

💀 Grim Reaper Girl

peterco
AI art 'Marin Gangbang' with user description 'The heavy cardboard box sat in the center of the cramped apartment, labeled with bright "FRAGILE" tape that felt like a cruel irony. Inside, Marin Kitagawa was folded into a compact, agonizing ball. Her wrists were bound to her ankles with thick, industrial-grade zip ties, and a silk scarf was knotted tightly around her mouth, muffling her indignant huffs. The sound of a box cutter slicing through the tape made her heart thud once—not out of fear, but out of sheer, mounting irritation. As the flaps were pulled back, the harsh fluorescent light blinded her. Twelve pairs of eyes peered down into the box, staring at the "package" they had collectively purchased. "Finally," one of them whispered, reaching in to hoist her out. Marin was dumped unceremoniously onto the stained carpet, still bound in that humiliating crouch. As the leader reached down to untie the gag, Marin didn't sob or plead. The second her mouth was free, she glared with enough heat to melt lead. "Are you serious right now? Three hours! I was in that box for three hours! Do you have any idea how much my legs cramp? My makeup is probably a total disaster. This is the most low-budget, 'edgy' entrance I’ve ever had to make. Cut these off. Now. If I get a circulation bruise on my ankles, I’m doubling the fee!" One of the fans hurried forward with scissors, trembling as he snipped the ties. Marin immediately sprawled out on the rug, rubbing her wrists. She was completely naked under the "packaging," but she carried herself with the air of a queen inconvenienced by peasants. "Okay, look," she said, pointing a finger. "I’m sore, I’m annoyed, and I’m covered in cardboard dust. Let’s get this moving. I want to be in a hot bath before the sun comes up. Who’s the first genius who thinks he can handle the 'merchandise'?" The small, dimly lit office smelled of stale coffee and desperation. These twelve men were exactly as she had feared: a collection of unwashed hoodies and eyes that held a disturbingly possessive glint. They had pooled their life savings to "rent" their favorite idol, and the contract she had signed in a moment of financial desperation was iron-clad. For the next several hours, the apartment became a theater of organized chaos. Marin remained a statue of pouting frustration. As the first three men approached, she didn't even bother to change her expression. One took her mouth, another guided himself into her pussy, and a third—the one with the shaky hands—claimed her anal passage. The triple intrusion was a sudden, heavy weight, but Marin just stared at a water stain on the ceiling. She was annoyed by the lack of rhythm and the sheer, staggering girth of men who clearly spent more time on message boards than in gyms. "Ugh, you’re hitting my hip bone," she muffled around the first man’s member, her eyes tracking a spider near the baseboard. "Adjust your angle or something. Honestly, do you guys even know how anatomy works? It’s like you’ve only ever seen a human woman in a low-res JPG." The men were relentless, driven by a primal need to finally possess the girl they had only ever seen on a screen. They rotated with a mechanical greed, sometimes four or five of them crowding around her at once, their hands roaming over her skin in a desperate attempt to memorize the texture of their idol. Marin felt the heat, the sweat, and the overwhelming scent of cheap cologne and desperation. "You're breathing too loud," she told the man currently hammering into her pussy, her tone as casual as if she were complaining about the weather. "It’s super distracting. And you," she pointed at the man waiting for her ass, "stop making that weird whimpering sound. It’s totally killing the vibe." Despite her constant critiques, the men seemed even more energized. Her annoyance acted as a catalyst, a reminder that they were interacting with the real, unfiltered Marin Kitagawa. They pushed her into various positions—over the back of the sofa, against the wall, on the grimy carpet—using her three orifices with a frantic, uncoordinated energy. By the third hour, Marin was coated in a sheen of sweat and the evidence of their collective release. Her golden hair was messy, clinging to her damp shoulders. "Seriously?" she groaned, wiping a stray drop from her cheek. "I’m going to need like, ten showers to get the smell of 'basement' off me. You guys are the absolute worst." The men, now mostly exhausted, looked at her with awe. They had used her in every way possible, filled her to the point of overflowing, and yet she still sat there, looking down at them with that same look of being completely unimpressed. "Is that it?" Marin asked, standing up and stretching. She felt the heavy, lingering stretch in her core, the physical proof of twelve men’s greed, but she refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. "Because I'm done. I'm going home, I'm ordering a massive pile of karaage, and I'm pretending this night never happened. Secretly she came 5 times.'
30

Marin Gangbang

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Fern Strategy' with user description 'The Northern Plateau was a place of biting winds and jagged stone, but today, the air felt suffocatingly heavy. Fern stood at the edge of a frozen clearing, her staff held firmly in both hands. Opposite her stood a creature that defied the logic of the grimoires she had spent years studying under Frieren’s tutelage. It was a Great Orc—a towering wall of muscle and grey-green skin, adorned with ritualistic scars that glowed with a faint, obsidian light. "**Zoltraak**," Fern whispered, her voice steady. A beam of concentrated mana streaked across the clearing, aimed directly at the beast’s chest. Usually, such a spell would pierce even the thickest hide, but as the bolt struck the Orc, it didn't explode. It shattered. The mana dissipated into harmless sparks, sliding off the creature’s skin like water off a polished stone. The Orc let out a guttural laugh, a sound that rumbled in the depths of its massive chest. "Magic... useless," it grunted. "My skin... the Void’s Blessing. No spell touches me." Fern stepped back, her mind racing. She realized that the "Void’s Blessing" was a hungry absorption. The Orc was taking in her mana and converting it into a raw, biological drive. The more she fought with traditional means, the more aggressive and "heated" the creature became. Its eyes were no longer focused on combat; they were glazed with a primal, suffocating lust. "I see," Fern murmured, her face remaining stoic despite the heat rising in her cheeks. "If I cannot destroy your body with distance, I will force it to its limit with contact." She didn't cast an attack. Instead, she dropped her staff and channeled a high-frequency sensory spell—a "**Pleasure Amplification**" charm. Normally, it required physical contact, but the Orc’s own mana-absorption field acted as a bridge. As the Orc lunged, Fern didn't flee. She stepped into its personal space. The lead Orc’s massive hands clamped onto Fern’s waist, the contrast between his rough, green skin and her delicate frame highlighting the sheer scale of the task. She realized that to truly overload him, she needed to use the most sensitive conduits available. She turned, pressing her soft, rounded ass against the front of the Orc’s massive, throbbing arousal. The sensation was a wall of heat, but she didn’t flinch. She began to move. Using the charm, she turned her own skin into a magical conduit. Every rhythmic grind of her ass against him wasn't just a physical act; it was a magical surge. She felt his mana-shield drinking in the sensation, and she pushed back, her curves molding against his grotesque bulk. The Orc’s breath hitched, a deep, rattling sound. Not satisfied with the speed of his decline, Fern shifted, guiding his massive length to her pussy. The entry was a staggering shock of scale, stretching her to her absolute limit, but she maintained her stoic focus. She wrapped her internal muscles around him, pulsing with magical energy. With every thrust, she injected a concentrated burst of sensory mana directly into his core. The feedback loop was catastrophic. The sensation of being inside her, combined with the inverted magical attack, was too much. His eyes rolled back, and his knees finally gave out. He let out a deafening roar as he reached his breaking point. A massive, hot release filled her, a testament to the energy he had absorbed. He came three times in a violent, shivering blur before slumping into the snow, completely incapacitated. "How pathetic," Fern whispered, her usual deadpan expression returning as she adjusted her sleeve. But her relief was short-lived. The mountain air was suddenly filled with the heavy thud of dozens of footsteps. One by one, more Great Orcs stepped into the clearing—a literal horde of at least twenty of them. They looked down at their fallen kin, then turned their hunger-filled gazes toward Fern. Their obsidian scars began to glow in anticipation of the mana she possessed. "So," Fern whispered, her voice barely a tremor. "The 'Void's Blessing' is the standard for the whole tribe. And they're all as hungry as the first one." The lead Orc, a scarred beast with a belly that hung over his fur, stepped forward, his nostrils flaring as he caught her scent. "Girl-mage... defeated the scout," he rumbled. "But we... we are starving." Fern gripped her staff, her mind already calculating the hours of work ahead of her. She knew that to survive, she would have to repeat the process, using her ass and her pussy to satisfy every single one of them until they collapsed. "This is going to be incredibly bothersome," she muttered, looking at the twenty massive monsters closing in. "It’s going to be a long night... and it’s going to be very hard to satisfy them all." ..'
27

Fern Strategy

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Public use'

Public use

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Nobara & Gojou'
19

Nobara & Gojou

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Mukuro Casting' with user description 'The air in the bedroom was cloying, smelling of strawberry-scented air freshener and old, festering grief. Mukuro Ikusaba lay on a frilly, pink duvet, her limbs as heavy as lead. She had been captured during a routine sweep; she hadn't expected a localized EMP trap and a high-grade neurotoxin dart hidden in a common mailbox. It was a sloppy mistake for the Ultimate Soldier, but even she hadn't accounted for the suicidal desperation of a man with nothing left to lose. The father stood over her, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with a terrifying, manic hope. Beside him stood his son, who looked at Mukuro with a mixture of loathing and hollow obedience. "This was my daughter’s room," the father whispered, gesturing to the stuffed animals lining the shelves. "She died in the blast you set. You erased her future. So, you’re going to give it back. You’re going to stay in this room, and you’re going to give me another daughter. You’ll stay alive until she’s born and celebrates her first birthday. Until then, you’re just a vessel." He leaned down, his voice trembling. "I’ve given you a high-dose muscular relaxant. You can’t fight. You’ll feel every moment of what comes next, but you won't be able to lift a finger to stop us." For nine months, the pink room became a sensory prison. Mukuro lived in a state of chemical paralysis, her body forced to endure the relentless, grief-fueled assaults of the father and the quiet, bitter turns taken by the son. She watched her own body change, her abdomen swelling with a life she never asked for. Even as her belly became a massive, taut curve that made every breath a struggle, they didn't stop. They treated her like a communal womb, their lust fueled by the twisted logic of replacing the dead. The father’s face was a mask of jagged, weeping lines as he leaned over Mukuro’s paralyzed form during the final weeks of her confinement. He didn’t touch her with lust; he touched her with a cold, possessive resentment, his hand pressing firmly against her distended navel. "How many, Mukuro?" he whispered, his breath smelling of bitter coffee and despair. "How many children were in that elementary school when you triggered the blast? Did you hear them? Did you hear the sound of the future being snuffed out in a single second? My daughter had a lead role in the spring play. She was supposed to be a princess. Now she's just ash in a jar on my mantel." Mukuro’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling, the muscular relaxant keeping her a silent witness to his breakdown. "You think this is a punishment?" the father continued, his voice cracking as he unbuckled his belt for the sixth time that day. "This is a mercy. You killed a world, so I’m making you build a new one. But don't think for a second that this makes us even. You deserve worse than this. You deserve to be used until your bones turn to dust. You deserve to be nothing more than a hole that never closes, a vessel that never empties. Every time my son and I take turns on you, I imagine I’m reclaiming a piece of the life you stole." He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. "My son hates you even more than I do. He doesn't see a girl; he sees the monster that took his sister. When he's inside you, he isn't looking for pleasure. He's looking for revenge. And I’m going to make sure he gets it, every single day, until that baby girl is born and we finally have our family back." Then, the door didn't open for a feeding—it exploded. Junko Enoshima stepped over the charred remains of the father and son, her heels clicking on the pink carpet. She looked down at Mukuro, who lay there with her nine-month belly exposed, her eyes tracking her sister with a flicker of recognition. "Hey, Sis! Wow, look at you," Junko chirped, poking Mukuro’s stomach with a manicured finger. "You’ve really grown into the role of 'Traumatized Broodmother.' It’s such a look! I was actually going to bust you out on day one, you know? But then I heard that guy’s plan through the hidden mics, and I thought it would be just *delicious* to be an auntie!" Mukuro’s voice was a dry, unused rasp as the relaxant finally began to wear off. "You... you could have saved me months ago. After I got pregnant... why did you wait?" Junko let out a high-pitched laugh. "Oh, Mukuro! I was just dying to see how long that man's despair could actually last! I mean, watching him try to replace a dead kid with a new one while staying totally obsessed with using you? Pure art! I had to see the limit of his desperation. He really leaned into that whole 'you deserve worse' angle—it was so dramatic, so cliché, so *perfectly* despair-inducing!" She leaned in, a mischievous smirk on her face. "Besides, I figured your pussy must be absolutely legendary for them to keep coming back for more! I mean, they fucked you more than five times every single day for nine months straight! That’s over thirteen hundred sessions, Sis! If your pussy is that tasty, I couldn't just cut the 'buffet' line short, right?'
20

Mukuro Casting

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Tsunade first Mission' with user description 'The afternoon sun hung low over Konoha as Tsunade sat at a stone table, a jug of sake already half-empty. Sakura and Hinata sat across from her, their faces flushed with a mixture of curiosity and hesitation. They had been discussing the nature of shinobi romance, but the conversation had taken a sharp turn when Sakura finally gathered the courage to ask about the Legendary Sannin’s first time. Tsunade let out a sharp, dry laugh, the sound echoing off the training ground walls. "Romantic? You girls have been reading too many of Jiraiya’s trashy novels. My first time wasn't a candlelit dinner or a confession under the cherry blossoms. It was a tactical necessity. I was old enough to know exactly what I was doing, and I’d do it again if the village needed it." "Wait, you mean it was... for a mission?" Sakura asked, her eyes widening. Hinata leaned in, her fingers twisting nervously. "W-was it with someone you loved, Lady Tsunade?" Tsunade snorted, pouring another cup. "Love had nothing to do with it. It was back when the Third Hokage—Lord Sarutobi—had been captured during a high-stakes diplomatic mission. Another village had him in a localized chakra-dampening stronghold. The ransom they demanded was absurd, enough to bankrupt the Land of Fire, and they made it clear: if the gold didn't arrive by dawn, they’d execute him." She leaned forward, her voice dropping into a serious, military tone. "Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and I didn't wait for orders. We made a plan. Jiraiya was to be the loud distraction at the front gates. Orochimaru was the scalpel, infiltrating quietly. My job was the pivot. I was to infiltrate the secondary guard post and keep their eyes on me so they wouldn't check the perimeter." "The plan was perfect on paper," she continued. "But the guards at my post were equipped with experimental chakra-suppressing devices. The moment I stepped into the light, my strength vanished. They defeated me immediately. They started dragging me back to their keep, intending to lock me away as a bargaining chip." "But if they took you inside, the alarm would have been raised!" Sakura gasped. Hinata looked pale, whispering, "Wh-what did you do?" "I knew if I went into those cells, Orochimaru wouldn't have enough time," Tsunade nodded. "I had to keep them right there, in that guard post, completely occupied. So, I started mocking them. I called them cowards who hid behind machines. I questioned their masculinity, told them they weren't real men. It worked. It infuriated them. They stopped caring about the mission. They wanted to break me. They ripped my clothes off right there in the dirt and started to use me. There were at least fifty men in that rotation, and I made sure every single one of them stayed focused on my body." "F-fifty?!" Hinata squeaked, her face turning a bright shade of red. Sakura gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white. "You stayed there... on purpose?" "I had to," Tsunade said firmly. "It was a systematic assault. At any given moment, I had three men in my ass, two in my pussy, and someone forcing himself down my throat. It was a relentless cycle of deep-throat sessions and heavy-caliber bukkakes that left me blinded by their collective release. I was a communal vessel, a raw, aching piece of meat pinned under a mountain of sweating, angry soldiers." Sakura swallowed hard, her voice trembling. "That sounds... horrifying. How did you endure that much trauma?" "Because it was working," Tsunade countered, her voice turning cold and professional. "While they were taking turns tearing me open, distracted by the 'trophy' they thought they had won, Jiraiya was clearing the gates and Orochimaru was slipping the Hokage out. They were so busy trying to humiliate me that they didn't notice their entire operation was being dismantled. By dawn, Sarutobi was safe and Konoha reinforcements arrived. The guards were rounded up; those who touched me were executed for war crimes." Tsunade drained her cup and looked at the two young kunoichi. "You look shocked. But here’s the secret: after the first hour, once the tactical part was handled, I realized something. The raw, primal intensity of being used by fifty men at once... it woke something up in me. It was honestly some of the best sex of my entire life. It stripped away all the pretense of being a 'Lady.' Now? Well, you’ve heard the rumors. In the bedroom, I’m a complete and total whore. I learned that night that there’s no high quite like being utterly possessed by a crowd. If you want to know what it means to be a woman of Konoha, you learn to find the pleasure in the sacrifice."'
27

Tsunade first Mission

blackhairedstudent
AI art '📰 Catfight - with a plot twist' with user description 'The latest volume of the brand new monthly "Catfight", 12 numbers, plus 4 bonus numbers. I hope you will enjoy it as I did 😻 Which kitten is your favorite? 😏 I owe the idea of ​​the magazine cover and of wrestling to @octavian 👍Meow 😺'
16

📰 Catfight - with a plot twist

peterco
AI art 'Waiting for Frieren' with user description 'Fern sat on a mossy stone just outside the damp, pulsating mouth of the cavern, her breathing still coming in ragged, uneven hitches that shook her entire frame. Her lavender hair was matted with a thick, translucent slime that shimmered uncomfortably in the pale moonlight, smelling faintly of ancient ozone and musk. She was wrapped tightly in Frieren’s spare traveling cloak, clutching the heavy fabric so hard her knuckles were white and bloodless, trying to hide the fact that she was completely naked underneath—the acidic, specialized secretions of the beast having dissolved her sturdy wool clothing into a caustic, steaming froth in a matter of seconds. "Mistress Frieren..." Fern began, her voice a low, trembling rasp that carried a mixture of residual shock and a deep, simmering indignation. She refused to look at the elf, who was currently preoccupied with shaking the lime-colored slime off a salvaged, waterlogged grimoire, looking entirely too casual for someone who had just witnessed a biological catastrophe. "It happened the second you stepped into that inner chamber without even a basic detection barrier. You were so focused on that 'secret chest' that you didn't even notice the mana-fluctuations shifting beneath our feet. A Tentacle... it didn't drop from the ceiling like a normal cave-predator. It surged from the shadows directly beneath the threshold. It was faster than any offensive spell I could formulate in my mind. It stripped me instantly—my clothes just... vanished. It felt like being licked by a giant, burning tongue." "Oh," Frieren commented, not looking up from her book. "That sounds like a Gastropod-Mimic. They have a very high concentration of gastric acid in their outer membrane. It’s quite rare to find one that large outside of the Central Lands. Did it tingle? Usually, the acid has a mild numbing effect to prevent the prey from struggling too much." Fern’s face burned a violent, pained shade of crimson at the clinical observation. She squeezed her eyes shut, the phantom sensation of the slick, pulsating appendage still echoing through her overstimulated nerves. "It didn't numb anything, Mistress! It was agonizing! It didn't want to consume me; it wanted to use me as a biological anchor for its internal circuit. For hours while you were deeper in those tunnels, chasing after some useless 'laundry-drying' spell, that thing held me suspended against the jagged stone wall. It was relentless. It forced itself into my Pussy and my Anus simultaneously, a dual, synchronized intrusion that felt like it was trying to split my very pelvis in half. The girth was... it was unnatural, Mistress. It was cold, rhythmic, and mechanical, stretching my frame until I couldn't even scream anymore, only gasp for air that smelled like rot." "Hm," Frieren hummed, flipping a sticky page. "The dual-entry is a reproductive strategy. It maximizes the surface area for nutrient absorption through the mucous membranes. It’s actually quite efficient from an evolutionary standpoint. I read once that elves have a higher tolerance for that kind of internal displacement, but I suppose for a human girl like you, the stretching must have been quite significant. Did you feel your pulse syncing with the creature's heart? That’s usually when the bridge is complete." "I wasn't looking for a 'bridge', Mistress! I was being dismantled!" Fern’s voice rose to a shrill, hysterical pitch. "I was a captive audience to my own violation! Every time I tried to gather enough mana for a 'Zoltraak' blast to free myself, the tentacle in my rear would pulse with a heavy, electric throb, sending a shock of localized paralysis directly through my spine. It knew exactly how to keep me helpless. I was being used as a vessel, filled and expanded until my abdomen felt hard and distended. I could see the shape of the appendages moving beneath my skin... it was horrifying. I felt like a discarded shell being prepared for a brood." "That would be the 'ovipositor' phase," Frieren noted, finally looking over at Fern with a blank, analytical gaze. "Though, since it was a mimic, it was likely just injecting high-density mana-fluid to stabilize your temperature. You’re actually glowing a little bit from the inside. It’s a very soft blue light. It’s actually quite pretty, in a way. You probably won't need a lantern for at least three days." "I don't want to be a lantern!" Fern shrieked, pulling the cloak even tighter around her chest, her eyes brimming with tears of pure, unadulterated frustration. "When you finally 'saved' me... when you finally realized I wasn't behind you and cut those things away with that lazy wind-cutter... I didn't feel relief. I felt hollow. I am completely Gaped, Mistress Frieren. My body won't close. I can feel the night air... inside me. It’s disgusting. It’s 'ecchi'. It’s the worst kind of despair a girl can face. I feel like a broken toy." "It’ll snap back eventually," Frieren said, turning back to her grimoire. "Human anatom'
7

Waiting for Frieren

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Fallout 69, Episode 3' with user description 'S01E03. Riley goes to meet meat 💙☢️☣️ But who exactly is the meat now? 😏'
8

Fallout 69, Episode 3

peterco
AI art 'Strict boss'
29

Strict boss

tonygmanch
AI art
3

Sans titre

kibh
AI art
4

Sans titre

kibh
Fallen noble animations
2

Fallen noble animations

zesoul
AI art "Idea for next character"
2

Idea for next character

wesley33
AI art 'EP.5 WHERE'S YUJI?!' with user description 'Hello beautiful people. (I love this community) With the amazing 4th episode of JJK’s 3rd season, what could be better than a story focused on our beloved Kugisaki? (Maki was simply broken—zero cursed energy… the Power Nullifier never even had a chance.) Let's start: ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kugisaki headed toward her hotel room, ready to rest before the next mission. The hallway felt unusually quiet, yet a faint prickle at the back of her neck told her she wasn’t alone. Someone—or something—was trailing her. Just as she reached for the door, a strange wave washed over her. Her cursed energy flickered, then collapsed entirely. It wasn’t blocked. It wasn’t suppressed. It was simply… gone, as if drained out of existence. The power‑nullifier had struck again. Before she could react, a shadow darted past her, cutting off her escape route, he forced her hands behind her back, tying them tightly with a rope, and did the same with her breasts and ankles. She tried to call out, but the intruder’s speed left her no opening by putting a ball gag in her mouth. Her mind raced—whoever this was, they knew exactly how to neutralize her. And they weren’t here by accident. The man dragged her across the floor, revealing his intentions: What I am about to do is not a simple act; it is necessary for everyone. Your energy will be useful to me. After removing her ball gag, he began to fuck her mouth and pussy, tearing her clothes off more and more, ripping her stockings and then removing them completely, opening her shirt and exposing her breasts. Then he quickly untied her just to remove her clothes, her resistance was futile, only to tie her up again. Without saying a word, he thrust his penis into her mouth, all the way in, to come inside her. Right after he got behind her to finish what he had started, putting it all in her ass and pulling her hair hard. The ritual to absorb all types of energy from Kugisaki was complete. At this point, the man no longer needed her, but he was sure that someone would come soon. So he hogtied her tightly, securing her to the ceiling so she couldn't move from the bed, and finally put a larger ball gag than the one used previously and a blindfold to limit her vision. The man simply said, “Thank you,” and left, painting a large M on the wall and leaving her there in the dark, moaning and struggling. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I hope you enjoyed it!'
20

EP.5 WHERE'S YUJI?!

kaxeld
AI art "Encounters"
28

Encounters

juliaanriasahi
AI art '"THE KINGDOM OF GEFZELL." Chapter 1. Poly.' with user description 'When the old king died of illness, the new king "Mirto." As soon as he came to power, he ordered his legionaries to go out and capture a young woman of every species that exists in the kingdom and its surroundings, and so it was that he awaited the hunt of different species. People say that the king wants to create an exotic harem. Poly, who always took a bath in the lake closest to the kingdom, was one of the first young women to be captured.'
21

"THE KINGDOM OF GEFZELL." Chapter 1. Poly.

dreamwalker
AI art "Fire emblem awakening bukkake"
18

Fire emblem awakening bukkake

sagajay
AI art "Rangiku Matsumoto: Blackmailed By The Bosses Son Whom She Hates #2"
10

Rangiku Matsumoto: Blackmailed By The Bosses Son Whom She Hates #2

smut317
Langue
Affichage
Grille d'images
Autocomplétion du prompt
Filtrage du contenu
Aide & Support
icône de réclamation quotidienne : verre vide
Réclamation quotidienne
Aujourd'hui
S
+3
S
+3
M
+4
T
+4
W
+5
T
+5
F
+6
Réclame chaque jour pour faire grandir ta série.
icône de réclamation quotidienne : un seau rempli d'or
Packs de crédits

Crédits supplémentaires

NEW
icône des quêtes
Quêtes

Complète des quêtes pour gagner des crédits