angry

AI art "Lingerie Love: Pink"
14

Lingerie Love: Pink

kendarfulgrim
AI art "Strip Poker After Hours With Miki"
22

Strip Poker After Hours With Miki

doggomage
AI art 'One Piece Girls'
18

One Piece Girls

barry915
AI art "Anime House 2"
16

Anime House 2

octavian
AI art '⭕ Ring' with user description 'Once, there was a horror movie, Ring, remake of Japanese horror...'
24

⭕ Ring

peterco
AI art
20

無題

chainny
AI art 'Alone with your bully'
4

Alone with your bully

rawbrush09
AI art
11

無題

alexloke97
AI art "Catgirl tied"
4

Catgirl tied

nakkislayer69
AI art 'Demons Won' with user description 'Here you are with another round, now now more feet focus (previous post). 3 passions here: The 1st is Frieren, the 2nd I don't have to tell (eheh) and the 3rd one is stil this type of bondage (with tape the result is more accurate but I really like ropes as well). Powerful characters became powerless.'
10

Demons Won

kaxeld
AI art 'Nobara & Gojou'
19

Nobara & Gojou

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 '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 'Tenko Casting' with user description 'The air in the Ultimate Artist’s studio was thick with the scent of incense and expensive acrylics. Tenko Chabashira sat cross-legged on a velvet cushion, her usual defensive posture replaced by a restless, fidgety energy. She wasn't looking at Angie Yonaga; instead, she was staring at her own calloused palms, her face flushed a deep, burning crimson that clashed with her green hair ribbons. "Angie... Atua speaks to you, right?" Tenko whispered, her voice uncharacteristically small. "He knows everything... including the things we try to hide even from ourselves?" Angie tilted her head, a serene, knowing smile dancing on her lips. "Atua sees into the deepest corners of the heart, Tenko! He says you have a very... heavy secret. A desire that fights against your Neo-Aikido spirit." Tenko let out a shaky breath, her composure finally breaking. "I hate degenerate males! I really do! But... there is this fantasy. It’s been haunting my dreams. I imagine myself in the **Madison Square Garden**—the center of the fighting world. I’m in the ring, the lights are blinding, and thousands of people are screaming. I’m facing a man who is simply... better. Faster. Stronger. I fight with everything I have, but he systematically breaks my defense. I want to feel the moment where my Neo-Aikido fails me completely." She leaned in closer, her eyes wide with a mix of shame and longing. "In the dream, once I’m beaten, lying breathless on the canvas, he doesn't just take the trophy. He takes *me*. Right there, in the center of the ring, he claims me by force while the world watches. And then... the crowd. The entire audience of men pours over the barricades. Hundreds of them, thousands, all taking turns, using every part of me until I’m nothing but a vessel for their collective victory. I want to be utterly defeated and then utterly used." Angie clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling. "Atua is so pleased with your honesty, Tenko! And because Atua is kind, he will make this happen for you. A grand ritual of submission!" Angie didn't waste a moment. Using her connections and the strange, limitless resources of the academy, she organized the "Ultimate Exhibition." She didn't just pick a random fighter; she scouted the most brutal Muay Thai champion in the world—a man whose shins were like iron and whose clinch was an inescapable trap. She moved the "ritual" to a private, high-stakes replica of the Garden, filling the seats with the most fervent, high-energy crowd imaginable. The plan was surgical. Tenko was led into the ring, the roar of the crowd hitting her like a physical wave. She saw the fighter—a towering wall of muscle—and felt a thrill of terror. Angie sat in the front row, a conductor of the upcoming chaos. "Do your best, Tenko! Atua is watching!" The fight was a masterpiece of one-sided destruction. Tenko’s Neo-Aikido was useless against the champion's crushing leg kicks and sharp elbows. Every time she tried to throw him, he countered with a knee that stole her breath. Finally, a high kick caught her temple, and she collapsed onto the canvas, her world spinning. The champion didn't wait for a count. He dropped onto her, pinning her wrists to the mat as the crowd erupted into a frenzied, primal roar. Tenko felt the first wave of forced possession, the weight of a superior male finally crushing her spirit as he claimed his "prize" in the center of the world's most famous ring. And then, as planned, the gates opened. "It was the most terrifying and magnificent collapse of my life," Tenko later whispered, her voice trembling at the memory. "The moment the first man finished and was immediately replaced by three more, I felt my identity as a warrior dissolve. I was no longer a person; I was a communal resource. I felt the rhythmic, relentless thud of the entire crowd—thousands of them—as they rotated through my mouth, my pussy, and my anus for hours on end. I was stretched, filled, and discarded, only to be grabbed again by the next pair of hands. My jaw ached, my core was a raw, throbbing void, and I was coated in a layer of their collective victory so thick I couldn't feel the air on my skin. To be used by an entire stadium of degenerate males... it was the ultimate defeat, and for the first time, I finally felt completely, blissfully powerless."'
30

Tenko Casting

blackhairedstudent
AI art "Noelle silva"
7

Noelle silva

akalihhh
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 "Full Rin set"
17

Full Rin set

yomamadoesporn
AI art 'EP.3 WHERE'S SAITAMA?!' with user description 'Before starting with the storyline, please people from BetterWaifu... She's Tatsumaki, a FICTIONAL character from One Punch Man and SHE'S 28 years old. "Tatsumaki received a secret call for intervention since Gaoru has been spotted resting in a random hotel out of the city and a grade S was needed: - Garou, Hotel White, room 069, at 1AM, go alone, we don't want Garou to notice us, you need to be silent and efficient (this was the content of the message) When she arrived at the hotel she instantly noticed the room 069. It was easy for her to silently open the door with her psychokinesis. A body was there under the sheet, she levitated till the bed and when she posed her hand close to the man head, she suddenly noticed that she wasn't able to fly anymore and her psychokinesis powers weren't active anymore. Before being able to correctly realize it, the man under the sheet quickly grabbed her by the mouth, covering it with duct tape, and after turning her on the bed, he began to bind her tightly with white rope. First her hands behind her back, then her arms and breasts, and finally her legs. That man wasn't Garou, that man was the power-nullifier, he reached another verse. (As far as we know he could be linked to the figure of Makima that is maybe acting behind the scene) Without saying a single word the man started to play with her, with her mouth, body and feet. From 1AM to around 4AM. Then, after tying her tightly again, tying her toes and gagging her again with tape after stuffing her mouth with her panties, she just left her in the room on the bed. He vanished as quick as possible in the night, since he knew that her powers would have came back once he would have been far from her, being sure that she would have used some time to untie her body and that she would have never went out the hotel without her dress on. Late in the morning when she was able to set her free the man was already disappeared like he never existed. She only found a little white postcard with a little "M" written in red and with a kiss made with a lipstick. Only 1 word was in her mind from that moment, try to find that M and get her revenge."'
12

EP.3 WHERE'S SAITAMA?!

kaxeld
AI art
4

無題

kibh
AI art "Meet MISS PEARL ⚪️"
14

Meet MISS PEARL ⚪️

warmicestudios
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