full moon

AI art "2000 ?!?! 🤯😳"
30

2000 ?!?! 🤯😳

zuzul
AI art "One Night in Ruka"
19

One Night in Ruka

octavian
AI art "Halloween Fern ❤️"

Halloween Fern ❤️

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Tricks or Sex'

Tricks or Sex

blackhairedstudent
AI art "Cyndel Vale needs money 5"
24

Cyndel Vale needs money 5

octavian
AI art "Original Characters"
29

Original Characters

barry915
AI art 'Pt1: ghostly bj' with user description 'As requested. But it seems he's working to hard. Might become a ghost himself at this rate. Enjoy. More to come.'
3

Pt1: ghostly bj

zesoul
AI art "Yor Dark Room ❤️"
20

Yor Dark Room ❤️

blackhairedstudent
AI art "Experiments 3"
10

Experiments 3

crn055-null2471
AI art "Priestess of Sobek"
15

Priestess of Sobek

zuzul
AI art 'Chika Dark Fantasy' with user description 'The air in chika's pink room was still, save for the rhythmic turning of pages. Chika Fujiwara sat huddled over a tattered, leather-bound volume she’d found in the deep recesses of the academy library, It was a dark, grim fantasy—a world of mud, iron, and a fallen princess sold into the service of the common folk. To Chika, whose life was defined by bright lights and tabletop games, the sheer, gritty weight of the narrative was intoxicating. She clutched the book to her chest, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "If only..." she whispered, the thought fluttering away before she could catch it. Suddenly, the ink on the pages began to bleed. The shadows in the corners of the room stretched like ink in water, swirling into a localized distortion that swallowed the light. Chika gasped, her pink hair whipping around her face as the floor beneath her vanished. With a heavy thud, she landed on damp, cold earth. The smell hit her first: woodsmoke, unwashed bodies, and wet hay. She wasn't in Shuchiin anymore. "Hey, lookee dat," a raspy voice croaked. Chika looked up, trembling. Standing over her were three men, their clothes little more than stained rags, their skin caked in layers of soot and grime. They looked down at her with yellowed eyes. "She be right purty," the first one said, his English mangled and thick. "She look like dem high-borns. We sell 'er to noble for silver, eh?" The second man, shorter and missing several teeth, shook his head. "No, check 'er first. If she be clean, she worth more. Kings pay gold—hunnid gold coins—for a maiden." "No way she be," the third grumbled. "But we look. Girl! Open up. We see if you be worth de gold." Chika’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She was terrified, the reality of the situation far colder than the words on the page, yet a strange, frantic energy raced through her. With shaking hands, she did as she was told, her eyes watering as the angry one pushed her aside to check for himself. "She is!" he roared, a jagged grin breaking across his face. "She be a gold mine!" They began to cheer, a cacophony of rough laughter. But the practical one soon silenced them. "How we get to Capital? We got no copper. Not a single coin for de road. It be six moon walk." Chika, still trembling on the ground, looked up with a strange, feverish light in her eyes. The fear was there, but so was a desperate desire to fit into the dark narrative she had craved. "Wait..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "Do... do kings care about the back way? If I stay a maiden for the king, can't you sell my behind to the commoners? You could make the silver for the journey that way." The men froze, looking at each other in stunned silence before the small one burst into a cackle. "Smart girl! She got de spirit! Kings don't care 'bout de back way, right? We sell dat to de locals. Make de coin for de bread and de boots. She still be maiden for de King at de end." "Great idea," the angry one nodded, looking at her with newfound greed. "But we need steel. A man strong and mean so no one steal de gold or break de prize." They dragged Chika to the edge of the village, to a hut that smelled of cold iron. There sat a man built like a mountain, scarred and silent. The three men negotiated fervently. The big man didn't want their non-existent coins. He looked at Chika, his gaze heavy and formidable. He agreed to protect the "merchandise" on one condition: he would have his turn with her behind every night of the journey. The trio agreed instantly; it was a small price to pay for such a lethal shadow. And so, the long trek began. From village to town, the word spread. In the daylight, Chika was a commodity. Guards, minor nobles, and even laborers who had scraped together their last silver coins lined up. Chika lived in a blur of gray skies and rough hands, the mountain of a man always standing just a few feet away, his hand on his sword hilt. When one traveler grew too greedy and tried to claim more than he had paid for, the guard’s blade was out in a flash. The traveler’s screams echoed through the trees, a permanent warning to all others. By night, the firelight cast long shadows as the four men took what they considered their due. Six months passed in this grueling rhythm. The girl who had played games in a clean, brightly lit room was gone, replaced by someone who lived for the dirt and the chaotic, crushing reality of the road. To her own shock, the fear had long since melted into a perverse sort of devotion to her new life. As the spires of the Capital finally appeared on the horizon, Chika looked back at the muddy trail behind them. For the "Love Detective," these weren't just the darkest days of her life—they were the most vivid she had ever known.'
30

Chika Dark Fantasy

blackhairedstudent
AI art "Arabic goddess"
14

Arabic goddess

asianloverz
AI art 'Sakura Dark Room'
12

Sakura Dark Room

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Still awake? So is she. 🌙✨' with user description 'The night has grown deeper, and the world outside is completely silent—but the connection between you and Aiko is only getting stronger. What started as a few playful photos has turned into those rare, late-night hours where honesty comes easy and time doesn't seem to exist. In this continuation, Aiko is even more relaxed, lounging in the soft glow of her bedside lamp. She’s moved past the mirror selfies and into more candid, vulnerable moments. It’s that cozy, 'don't-want-to-say-goodnight' feeling captured in every shot. She’s still the last thing on your mind, and she’s making sure it stays that way'
9

Still awake? So is she. 🌙✨

cef_ultra
AI art '👨🏻‍🤝‍👩🏻Just couples' with user description 'Still a little moody...'
16

👨🏻‍🤝‍👩🏻Just couples

peterco
AI art '🥳 @zuzul's 2000 followers' with user description 'Congratulations on your 2000 followers, buddy. You did it! 🎉🎉🎉 I love you (in the most hetero and collegial way pawssible), your work, your art, your creativity, skills, imagination, artistry, and your passion 🥹 P.S.: Enjoy your 2000 kittens while you can, they were hard to get together and will be even harder to keep them like this 😺 But that last one will stay till the end for sure 😻'
16

🥳 @zuzul's 2000 followers

peterco
AI art "Chel Waterfall"
4

Chel Waterfall

zuzul
AI art "🧝‍♀️ Elven Catgirl, Night 2"
8

🧝‍♀️ Elven Catgirl, Night 2

peterco
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 "Marin's first date"
6

Marin's first date

octavian
Idioma
Vista
Imágenes en cuadrícula
Autocompletar prompt
Filtrado de contenido
Ayuda y soporte
icono de reclamo diario: el vaso está vacío
Reclamo diario
Hoy
T
+3
W
+4
T
+5
F
+6
S
+7
S
+8
M
+9
¡Reclama a diario para conseguir créditos extra!
icono de reclamo diario: un cubo lleno de oro
Paquetes de créditos

Recargar créditos

NEW
icono de misiones
Misiones

Completa misiones para ganar créditos