bukkake

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

30

Alya Sometimes Hides Her Feelings on the subway.

AI art "They love dicks"

20

They love dicks

AI art 'Why so serious?' for prompt: 'Marin Kitagawa.
sitting.
nude.
throat view.
Excesive amount of cum inside mouth.
Laughing.
mouth cumdrip, chin cumdrip.
1 man, cheeks grab, fingers inside mouth, penis on head, penis cumdrip on tongue
spreading her cheeks.
facial cum.
swallowing.'

10

Why so serious?

AI art "String Panties"

20

String Panties

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

14

Snow Gangbang

blackhairedstudent

AI art "Frieren and Fern sentenced to death by snu snu."

20

Frieren and Fern sentenced to death by snu snu.

AI art '1000 Followers Special' with user description 'Thanks guys ❤️ here is one of favourites (and best work) so far. I would apreciate if you like and comment what was you favourite photo.. it cost at least 250 credits to make 😞 (because of the feet one)
Well, enjoy have a nice fap

The art room was bathed in the warm, orange glow of the late afternoon sun, casting long shadows across the easels and scattered sketches. Naoto, or "Senpai" as he was perpetually known, had stepped out to clear some space in the storage closet, leaving Nagatoro and the visiting Marin Kitagawa alone. Marin had stopped by to consult on a potential cosplay project, but the conversation had quickly shifted as Nagatoro observed the way the blonde girl’s eyes lingered on Senpai’s back whenever he moved.
"You’re totally staring, Kitagawa-san," Nagatoro teased, her signature mischievous grin stretching across her face as she leaned against a desk.
Marin jumped, her face turning a shade of pink that rivaled the sunset. "W-What? No, I was just looking at the... the perspective in his drawing! It’s really impressive!"
Nagatoro let out a sharp, feline cackle. "Liar! You’ve been thirsty for my gross Senpai since you walked in. It’s written all over your face." She walked closer, her eyes narrowing with a playful, predatory glint. "But I don't blame you. He’s surprisingly... capable, once you get past all the stammering."
Marin fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, her heart racing. "Is it that obvious? He’s just so dedicated to his craft, and he’s actually really kind. I didn't think you’d be so open about it, Nagatoro-san."
"Well, I’m the only one allowed to bully him," Nagatoro said, her tone shifting slightly. She stepped into Marin’s personal space, lowering her voice. "But honestly? He’s been working so hard lately. I think he needs a real reward. Something that’ll blow that shy little mind of his. And I’ve been thinking... I wouldn't mind sharing the fun if it’s with someone who actually appreciates him."
Marin’s eyes widened, her breath catching. "Sharing? You mean... a threesome? With Senpai?"
"Why not?" Nagatoro shrugged, though her blush was starting to match Marin’s. "Think about it. Two girls like us, giving him the best experience of his life. He’d probably faint from the shock, but once he gets going, he’s a lot more intense than he looks. Don't tell me you haven't imagined it."
Marin’s mind raced. She thought about Naoto’s steady hands, his quiet intensity, and the way he looked when he was focused. The idea of being with him, guided by Nagatoro’s fearless energy, sent a jolt of heat through her. "I... I have. But I didn't want to overstep. He’s your Senpai."
"He is," Nagatoro whispered, leaning in to Marin’s ear. "Which is why I’m inviting you. It’ll be a masterpiece, Kitagawa. Much better than any cosplay photo. We can show him exactly how much we like him. Together."
The door creaked open, and Naoto walked back in, wiping dust from his hands. "Okay, I cleared out the—" He stopped mid-sentence, sensing the heavy, electric atmosphere in the room. Both girls were staring at him, their faces flushed and their eyes bright with a shared, secret intent.
"Senpai~" Nagatoro chirped, walking over and grabbing his arm. "Kitagawa-san and I were just discussing a new art project. A live study. And we decided we need you as the center of it."
Before Naoto could protest, Marin stepped forward, her initial hesitation replaced by a bold, nervous excitement. "She’s right, Senpai. I really want to... participate. If that’s okay with you?"
The confusion on Naoto’s face didn't last long as the girls began to lead him toward the large lounge chair in the corner of the room. The transition from teasing to reality was seamless. Nagatoro took the lead, her hands moving with a possessive confidence, while Marin followed, her touch gentle but eager.
The art room became a sanctuary of shared heat. They shared Senpai’s cock with a frantic, coordinated hunger, Nagatoro’s experienced playfulness perfectly complementing Marin’s genuine, overflowing passion. Naoto was overwhelmed, his senses pushed to their absolute limit as he was worshipped by both girls. The evening turned into a blur of tangled limbs and whispered praise, a masterpiece of intimacy that left all three of them breathless and utterly satisfied in the fading light.'

30

1000 Followers Special

blackhairedstudent

AI art "Cyndel Vale needs money 8 (ft. Captain Nemesis)"

25

Cyndel Vale needs money 8 (ft. Captain Nemesis)

AI art 'Fun at school' with user description 'Marin Kitagawa and Yukino Yukinoshita participating in some extracurricular work.'

19

Fun at school

AI art 'Futaba Ganbang ❤️' with user description 'The air in the cramped, windowless studio was stagnant, smelling of ozone, thermal paste, and the sweat of fifty men. Futaba Sakura sat at the center of the room, the only source of light being the eerie, flickering glow of massive server monitors. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was Oracle, the undefeated queen of the digital realm, the best in the world. But a high-stakes bet in a game she usually dominated had gone catastrophically wrong. A glitch, a lag spike, or perhaps a moment of overconfidence had led to her first-ever defeat.
The boy she had played against—a high-ranking rival—had smirked when the "Game Over" screen flashed. He told her the price was a session with "him and some friends." Futaba had expected maybe five or six people. But when she arrived at the coordinated location, her heart stopped. It wasn't just a few friends; it seemed like the entire upper echelon of the game’s server was there, fifty men who had spent years losing to her, all waiting to claim their prize.
As the massive metal door hissed shut, the shadows at the edge of the room moved. Futaba felt a surge of genuine terror. She was tiny compared to the crowd, her delicate frame highlighted by the blue and green data streams scrolling across her pale skin. But as the first hands touched her, the terror began to mutate into something far more volatile.
The session was a descent into total sensory overload. With only the monitors to illuminate the room, the encounters were sharp flashes of skin and motion. She was handled with a rough, clinical efficiency, her body becoming a playground for the massive group. She was turned, lifted, and used in every way imaginable—doubly and triply penetrated as the men rotated with relentless, competitive stamina. The digital glow reflected off the slickness of her skin, marking her as the ultimate loot drop.
The most intense part of the ordeal was the constant, rhythmic deepthroating. As she was being used from behind and below, a revolving line of men took turns forcing themselves into her mouth. They showed no mercy, pushing deep into her throat, past the point of comfort. Futaba’s eyes blew wide, tears streaming down her face and dripping onto the glowing keyboards below. She let out muffled, wet cries of desperation.
To any observer, the tears looked like pure agony, but internally, Futaba was drowning in a sea of forbidden euphoria. She cried because she was struggling to breathe; the thick, invasive presence in her throat made every lungful of air a desperate battle. That sensation—the feeling of being completely overwhelmed and physically silenced—sent her nervous system into a localized meltdown. The lack of oxygen combined with the relentless physical friction triggered a feedback loop of pleasure so intense it was almost painful.
She came several times, her body arching and shivering in the dim light, her internal muscles clenching desperately around whoever was inside her at the moment. Each time she felt her breath being cut off by a deep thrust, another wave of white-hot climax shattered through her. She had spent her life controlling every variable in a virtual world, but being reduced to a gasping, used object in the real one was giving her a high she couldn't find in any code.
Hours bled into a single, exhausting blur of heat and neon light. By the time the monitors finally went black and the sound of heavy breathing filled the silence, Futaba was a wreck. She lay sprawled across the desk, her skin mapped with red marks and her hair matted with sweat. The fifty men began to retreat into the shadows, leaving her in the quiet hum of the cooling servers.
Futaba took a long, shuddering breath, her throat feeling raw and her body heavy with the remnants of her multiple peaks. She looked up at the boy who had won the bet, her eyes still hazy and unfocused. The desperation hadn't fully left her system; instead, it had evolved into a new, darker hunger for the "lag" she had just experienced.
She reached out with a trembling hand, grabbing the boy's sleeve as he turned to lead the group out. Her voice was a mere rasp, a broken whisper from the hours of being gagged and used.
"Wait," she croaked, her fingers tightening on the fabric. She didn't complain about the numbers or the intensity. Instead, she looked at the dark room where the men were still lingering. "Next month... let's play again. Same stakes. I want to see if I can handle the whole server for even longer next time."
The boy stared at her, stunned by the sheer deviancy in her gaze. Futaba simply slumped back against the monitors, a small, dark smirk playing on her lips as she planned her next "session" in the glow of the dying light.'

30

Futaba Ganbang ❤️

blackhairedstudent

AI art "She looked so elegant..."

20

She looked so elegant...

AI art 'Ann Gangbang ❤️'

30

Ann Gangbang ❤️

blackhairedstudent

AI art "Cyndel Vale needs money 5"

24

Cyndel Vale needs money 5

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 'Marin and Nagatoro messing around in class.'

19

Marin and Nagatoro messing around in class.

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

10

제목 없음

AI art '300 Thank you very much. (PokeGirls part 3)' with user description 'Part 3 from the PokeGirls for you. Enjoy them.'

30

300 Thank you very much. (PokeGirls part 3)

holo_the_wise_wolf

AI art "My girl Hinata"

14

My girl Hinata

언어

보기

그리드 이미지

프롬프트 자동완성

콘텐츠 필터링

도움말 & 지원

일일 보상 아이콘: 빈 유리잔

일일 보상

오늘

M

+3

T

+4

W

+5

T

+6

F

+7

S

+8

S

+9

매일 받으면 보너스 크레딧을 얻어요!

일일 보상 아이콘: 금으로 가득 찬 양동이

크레딧 충전

퀘스트 아이콘

퀘스트를 완료하고 크레딧을 얻으세요