glaring

AI art "Strip Poker After Hours With Miki"

22

Strip Poker After Hours With Miki

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 '⭕ Ring' with user description 'Once, there was a horror movie, Ring, remake of Japanese horror...'

24

⭕ Ring

AI art "Ellie's day out"

30

Ellie's day out

AI art 'Alone with your bully'

4

Alone with your bully

AI art

11

Senza titolo

AI art

24

Senza titolo

AI art "Green Means Go"

13

Green Means Go

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 "Noelle silva"

7

Noelle silva

AI art "Full Rin set"

17

Full Rin set

AI art 'Hot Spring Fun' with user description 'The steam rose in thick, opaque clouds from the surface of the natural hot spring, clinging to the jagged rock walls of the secluded outdoor bath. Momo Ayase stood at the edge of the water, her heart thumping against her ribs. She was used to dealing with the supernatural and the bizarre, but the heavy, expectant atmosphere here was a different kind of intensity. She let her towel slip to the mossy ground, her 18-year-old frame glowing under the soft, amber glow of the lanterns.
The Casting Transcript: Momo Ayase (The Spiritual Medium)
1. Identity: Name, age, and job?
"Momo Ayase. I’m 18, and I’m a high school student... though most of my time is spent dealing with spirits, aliens, and keeping my idiot friend out of trouble. I guess you could say I’m a medium in training."
2. Dreams: What do you want for your future?
"I want to find someone who’s actually cool, like Ken Takakura! But more than that, I want to feel like I’m in control of my own life. I want to experience things that are so intense, they make all the ghost-hunting stuff look like a walk in the park."
3. Hobbies: Games, movies, and anime you love?
"I’m a huge fan of classic cinema! Anything with Ken Takakura is a masterpiece to me. I also play a bit of Persona 5 because the style is so cool. As for anime, I’ve been watching Dandadan lately—it’s weirdly relatable."
4. Favorites: Who are your favorite characters?
"Obviously Ken Takakura! But I also like Nami from One Piece—she’s tough, smart, and knows how to handle herself in a world full of monsters."
5. Motivation: Why do you want to do this? What do you expect?
"I’m tired of being the one who’s always being chased or protected. I want to be the center of attention in a way that’s completely overwhelming. I want to see if my spiritual energy can handle a total physical takeover. I expect to be pushed to my absolute limit."
6. Drive: Scale of 1-10, how much do you like sex?
"It’s a 9. I have a lot of repressed energy, and when I finally let it go, it’s like an explosion. I want to feel every bit of it."
7. Safety: What is your "Safe Word"?
"'EXORCISM.' If I say that, the spirits have won and we stop immediately."
8. Technical: Okay with being filmed in high-def?
"Yes. Capture it in 8K. I want to see the steam on my skin and the look in my eyes when I finally lose it."
9. The Agreement: Describe the "Onsen Ruination"?
"I want to be in the hot spring. I want to be surrounded by men who are the opposite of 'cool'—fat, ugly men who look like the monsters I fight every day. I want a Gangbang where they take turns filling me Vaginally and Anally while the hot water splashes around us. I want to be left totally ruined."
The Scene: "The Medium’s Total Forfeit"
Momo waded into the scorching water, her breath hitching as the heat hit her skin. Emerging from the steam were the men she had requested—massive, sweating, and physically repulsive. They surrounded her, their shadows looming over her delicate form.
The scene was a chaotic blur of steam and flesh. Momo was pulled into the center of the group, her 18-year-old body a stark contrast to the rolls of fat and coarse skin pressing against her. The first man claimed her Vaginally, his weight pinning her against the smooth rocks of the pool. Momo let out a sharp cry, her psychic auras flickering as she felt the raw, unrefined power of his intrusion.
It quickly escalated into a total Gangbang. While one man occupied her front, another moved to her Anal depth, the double penetration stretching her to the brink. More men lined up, their heavy hands roaming over her as they waited their turn. Momo was being handled like a ritual offering, her head lolling back as she took one massive member after another.
As the climax hit, the water around her turned cloudy. She was hit with a barrage of Creampies, her womb and rear being filled to overflowing by the group. The heat of the water mixed with the warmth of their tributes, creating an unbearable, euphoric weight inside her.
When the men finally retreated back into the steam, Momo was left floating in the shallow water. She was completely gaped, both her pussy and her rear wide and pulsing, unable to close after the massive scale of the encounter. White fluid leaked out of her and drifted into the clear spring water. She lay there, her hair matted and her eyes glazed, looking like a shattered doll.
"The spirits... they're gone," she whispered, a dazed, blissful smile on her face. "I'm finally... empty."'

19

Hot Spring Fun

blackhairedstudent

AI art "Meet MISS PEARL ⚪️"

14

Meet MISS PEARL ⚪️

AI art "Bullies"

30

Bullies

AI art

2

Senza titolo

AI art

3

Senza titolo

AI art "Strip Poker with Sylphy"

27

Strip Poker with Sylphy

AI art "Void DEEPTHROAT Bitch~"

6

Void DEEPTHROAT Bitch~

AI art 'Aria — The Girl From My Memories' with user description 'Aria is a 19-year-old university student with shoulder-length red curly hair and a quiet, captivating beauty. She dresses like most girls her age — skirts, jeans, sometimes a simple dress — but there’s always something about her that feels a little mysterious.

Open, playful, and full of subtle charm, she easily draws people in without even trying. Yet behind her smile, it sometimes feels like she’s hiding something she never fully says out loud.

This album is a collection of memories, dreams, and feelings that slowly blur together — the story of a girl who might be just a friend… or something more.

Author note:
I’m currently working on a game that features this character. Once the project is ready, I’ll update these posts with the full story and additional details.'

6

Aria — The Girl From My Memories

AI art 'Momo on the train' with user description 'Posted this on my X account too. Feel free to follow me @N0CTURNALzz. DM me for requests. Insanely difficult to generate Momo Ayase and get decent results…'

5

Momo on the train

Lingua

Visualizzazione

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+3

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+4

T

+5

W

+6

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+9

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