1,024
penis awe

penis awe

0 Follower
1girlblushbreastshetero1boyuncensoredlong hairpenissolo focusindoorslarge breastserectionblack hairnudeopen mouthlooking at viewernipplestesticlessweatveinsveiny peniscollarbonelarge penissmilecompletely nudenavelpubic haircumshirtpov
AI art "Shampoo's gift"

Shampoo's gift

zuzul
AI art 'Ruka ❤️'
30

Ruka ❤️

blackhairedstudent
AI art "Trixxie 1/2"
30

Trixxie 1/2

zuzul
AI art "Yor, Spy and Spicy"
4

Yor, Spy and Spicy

zuzul
AI art "Mei's gift 🧧"
2

Mei's gift 🧧

zuzul
AI art "Hot Wife Sex Pt.1"
28

Hot Wife Sex Pt.1

darkmorcel
AI art "Frieren's new enlargement spell"
4

Frieren's new enlargement spell

zuzul
AI art "Better than Link's sword"
3

Better than Link's sword

zuzul
AI art "The Captain's boss"
4

The Captain's boss

octavian
AI art "She was not expecting that much!! 😈"

She was not expecting that much!! 😈

bad77
AI art "fern"
20

fern

steven1599
AI art "Rem and Emilia"
5

Rem and Emilia

zuzul
AI art 'Your Residents are Evil'

Your Residents are Evil

gigglestick23
AI art 'Yor A night To Remember 2' with user description 'The room was subterranean, a concrete box that smelled of damp earth and cold iron. Yor was strapped into a chair, her wrists bound with reinforced steel cables that bit into her skin. Across from her, a man in a clinical white suit adjusted the needles of a polygraph machine, its sensors taped to Yor’s temples and chest. In the corner, a monitor flickered to life, showing a live feed of Anya sleeping in her bed at the Forger apartment. A masked operative stood over the child, a silenced pistol aimed at her head. "The rules are simple, Thorn Princess," the interrogator whispered, his voice smooth and devoid of empathy. "Tell me your most cherished memory. The one that makes your heart race, the one that defines you. If the needle jumps—if you lie for even a second to preserve your 'dignity'—my man pulls the trigger. Start talking." Yor looked at the screen, her pupils trembling. Her usual mask of polite reserve shattered. To save Anya, she had to peel back the layers of her life and reveal the raw, shameful truth she had buried beneath her role as a mother and a clerk. "It was... years ago," Yor began, her voice steady but hollow. "I received an invitation to a kindergarten reunion. I thought it was a chance to reconnect with my past. I went to a private residence, expecting a party, but I had forgotten a crucial detail about my childhood. I was the only girl in my class that year." The interrogator leaned in, watching the flat line of the polygraph. "Continue." "There were thirteen of them," Yor said, her eyes fixed on the image of Anya. "Thirteen men I used to play with as children. They didn't want to talk about the past. They told me that as the only girl, I was responsible for the happiness of the entire group. They were persuasive, circling me, telling me that after all my years of solitude and 'work,' I deserved to be completely possessed. And for the first time in my life... I wanted to be. I wanted to be used until there was nothing left of me." She took a breath, the needle remaining perfectly still. She was telling the truth. "I accepted. I let them strip me in the center of that room. For the entire night, I wasn't an assassin or a sister. I was a vessel. They treated my body like a public resource. At any given moment, I was being filled by three or four of them at once. I remember the weight of them, the relentless, heavy-caliber rhythm that stretched my anatomy beyond its limits. They weren't gentle; they were frantic, reclaiming the 'princess' they had lost." Yor’s face flushed, not with shame, but with the vivid, carnal memory of the sensation. "The night became a blur of white heat. They covered every inch of me. They were so thorough and so numerous that they didn't just stay with the usual places. They doused my face, my hair... I remember the smell of it on my nose, the stinging in my eyes as they took turns blinding me with their release. It was so much—the volume was so extreme—that I actually retched. I vomited back the sheer amount of 'friendship' they had forced down my throat, only for them to laugh and continue from behind while I was still choking on the floor." The polygraph stayed flat. The machine confirmed her darkest secret: the most cherished memory of the Thorn Princess was being utterly destroyed and communalized by thirteen men in a single night. "I have never felt so full," Yor whispered, a tear tracing a path through the grime on her cheek. "I felt seen. I felt occupied. I felt like I finally belonged to something larger than myself. That night of total, messy surrender is the only thing that feels real when the world gets too quiet." The interrogator stared at the machine, then at Yor, a look of genuine disgust crossing his face. He signaled to the man on the monitor. The operative lowered the gun and stepped away from Anya’s bed. "You really are a monster, aren't you?" the man remarked, turning off the polygraph. "No," Yor replied, her eyes returning to the cold, lethal sharpness of an assassin. "I'm just a woman who loves her family. And now that I’ve told you the truth... you’re going to find out what happens to people who threaten my daughter."'
28

Yor A night To Remember 2

blackhairedstudent
AI art
19

Sem título

steven1599
AI art "Mercy can raise you up"
3

Mercy can raise you up

zuzul
AI art 'Nagatoro Is Perfect ❤️' with user description '### The Confrontation The door to Black’s makeshift studio didn’t just open; it practically flew off its hinges, slamming against the drywall with a hollow thud that vibrated through the floorboards. There she stood. Hayase Nagatoro. Her usual playful, teasing smirk was entirely gone, replaced by a scowl so sharp it could cut glass. Her arms were tightly crossed over her chest, her shoulders tense, and her eyes glared with an absolute, unadulterated fury. She didn't offer a greeting. She just marched straight up to Black’s desk, her sneakers squeaking aggressively against the linoleum. "Black," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Man, I am so tired of the things you do to me." Black didn't even look up from his monitor at first. He just clicked a few times on his mouse, casually spinning around in his ergonomic chair with a lazy, unbothered expression. "Oh, look who decided to grace me with her presence. What's wrong, Nagatoro? Aren't the metrics looking good today?" "Shut up!" she snapped, slamming both hands down on his desk, leaning in so close he could see the sheer rage in her eyes. "Listen to me! You made me use every single part of my body just to get followers for you! Every single piece of content, every single prompt, every single absurd scenario! Do you have any idea what I’ve been going through because of your twisted little content farm?!" Black raised an eyebrow, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Hey, it's a tough market out there. Algorithmic engagement requires sacrifices. You're a star, kid. Stars gotta shine." "Shine?! Are you out of your mind?!" Nagatoro’s voice cracked with indignation. "My grandparents have all been dead for more than ten years, Black! All of them! Dead and buried! But you made me do *that* with the new husband of one of my grandmothers! Explain that logic to me! How does that even make sense?! It’s sick!" Black let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Hey, the audience loves a good taboo storyline. It's all about the drama, the shock value. Creative liberty, you know?" "Creative liberty?! You think this is a joke?!" Nagatoro’s face flushed a deep, angry crimson. She stomped her foot, her voice rising to a near-shriek as the memories of her recent assignments flashed through her mind. "You trapped me in a public restroom for a whole week! A whole week, Black! The smell, the dirt, the utter humiliation! For what?! A bunch of likes and retweets?!" "Hey, the 'trapped' trope is a goldmine for engagement," Black said, completely dismissive, a smug grin spreading across his face. "People love the suspense. Will she get out? Won't she? It builds tension." "And what about the last one, huh?!" Nagatoro roared, her hands trembling with rage. "I even did it with orcs! ORCS, Black! And orcs don't even exist in my universe! None! My world is a mundane, ordinary high school rom-com! Where the hell did you even find fantasy creatures?!" At the mention of the orcs, Black couldn't hold it in anymore. A loud, booming laugh erupted from his chest. He threw his head back, slapping his knee as he envisioned the sheer absurdity of the render. "Oh, come on!" Black laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. "The orc crossover was a masterpiece! A stroke of pure genius! You gotta admit, the contrast was hilarious!" "It wasn't hilarious!" Nagatoro screamed, completely mortified, her defensive walls crumbling into pure frustration. "Their disgusting thing was twice as big as me, and yet everything still fit inside me! It was mechanically impossible! It defied the laws of physics, anatomy, and common decency! I felt like I was being torn apart by a fantasy raid boss, and you were just sitting here laughing and counting your digital coins!" Black’s laughter slowly subsided into an amused chuckle, though he still looked incredibly entertained. "Look, look, I admit, that one was a bit extreme. But hey, it performed exceptionally well. The rendering quality on the green skin was top-tier." "I don't care about the rendering quality!" Nagatoro shouted, taking a deep breath to steady her shaking voice. She straightened up, glaring down at him with an ultimatum that carried the full weight of her exhaustion. "Anyway... now, I'm the one making the rules. Here is what's going to happen." Black blinked, his smile fading slightly. "Oh? An ultimatum? Let's hear it." "Now I want a set of 30 vanilla photos with me and Naoto," she demanded, her voice dropping into a firm, non-negotiable tone. "Just me and Senpai. No monsters, no public restrooms, no fake step-grandfathers. I want it to be a very loving atmosphere. And I want you to use close-ups very well to show how happy I am to be doing this. Or else you forget about me and i will never model for you anymore. ​"Yeah it's not like you have a choice in this... buuut We have a deal," Black nodded, leaning forward and opening a blank project file on his screen. "Thirty photos. You and Naoto. Pure vanilla. Lots of close-ups on your smile. ❤️'
30

Nagatoro Is Perfect ❤️

blackhairedstudent
AI art "Town favourite's new relationship"
30

Town favourite's new relationship

zesoul
AI art "Fucking the Soccer Star"
30

Fucking the Soccer Star

dreamerofdreams
AI art 'Rosalina Casting' 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.'
20

Rosalina Casting

blackhairedstudent
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