reverse suspended congress

AI art "Marry me Senpai!"
20

Marry me Senpai!

octavian
AI art "Cyndel Vale needs money 8 (ft. Captain Nemesis)"
25

Cyndel Vale needs money 8 (ft. Captain Nemesis)

octavian
AI art "Paizuri : Minimum equipment required."
23

Paizuri : Minimum equipment required.

zuzul
AI art 'Fun at school' with user description 'Marin Kitagawa and Yukino Yukinoshita participating in some extracurricular work.'
19

Fun at school

iiyama6122
AI art "Dawn is Horny"
25

Dawn is Horny

onlyyouprod
AI art "More Fire Emblem Girls 3"
29

More Fire Emblem Girls 3

onlyyouprod
AI art 'Nagatoro Disgusted' with user description 'The city air was thick with rain and exhaust, but inside the dimly lit underground parlor, the atmosphere was even heavier. Nagatoro sat across from Ichiro, a man who embodied everything she found repulsive—bald, heavy-set, and smelling of stale tobacco and unwashed skin. He held the one thing she desperately wanted: a vintage, limited-edition art portfolio for Senpai. To get it, she agreed to a lopsided bet. Ichiro would roll four dice; he would only win if all four landed on the exact same number. Statistically, her victory was a 99.9% certainty. "Roll them, you gross old man," she smirked. But the impossible happened: four sixes clattered onto the table. The 1% had hit. Nagatoro’s smirk vanished as Ichiro led her to a grimy back room. As he locked the door, she felt a wave of nausea. He approached her, his massive frame looming, and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was wet and tasted of sour onions and grime. She squeezed her eyes shut, her skin crawling as his rough, unwashed hands gripped her shoulders. "Open up," he grunted, pushing her down onto her knees. The disgust reached a fever pitch as he forced her into oral sex. The smell was overpowering—a sharp, ammonia-like scent that made her eyes water. She felt pathetic, her body trembling with the effort of not vomiting. Every time his oily skin touched hers, she felt a desperate urge to scrub herself raw. Then came the centerpiece of her nightmare. Ichiro stepped back and revealed his member. It was thick, imposing, and clearly as neglected as the rest of him, smelling of stale sweat and old grime. Nagatoro’s breath hitched. Without a word, he grabbed her hair and forced his big penis down her throat. The intrusion was sudden and violent. She gagged, the taste of him coating her tongue in a mixture of salt and filth. He showed no mercy, his movements rhythmic and forceful, indifferent to the tears of revulsion streaming down her face as he used her mouth like a toy. When he finally pulled her onto the bed to fuck her, she expected the sensation to be just as unbearable. He rolled his heavy body on top of her, pinning her down with a weight that made it hard to breathe. He entered her with a blunt, jarring force. Nagatoro buried her face in the pillow, trying to drift away, trying to forget the sweat dripping onto her back and the rhythmic slapping of his fat against her thighs. "You're tight, little girl," he hissed in her ear, his breath hot and rank. "Maybe you’re starting to like the odds." "Shut up... you're gross," she muffled into the fabric, but as the minutes dragged into an hour, something traitorous began to happen. The constant, heavy friction began to spark a dull heat. Despite the stench, despite the repulsive sight of him, the sheer physical intensity of his movements began to bypass her brain and speak directly to her nerves. The disgust was still there, but beneath it, a primal, rhythmic pleasure was taking root. The way he handled her—with a raw, uncaring strength—started to melt her resistance. Her breathing changed from jagged gasps of revulsion to deep, needy sighs. "Oh no," she thought, her fingers digging into the grimy sheets. "Not this. Not him." But her body didn't care about her pride. The friction hit a specific, sensitive spot, and the heat in her belly flared into a wildfire. She found herself arching her back, her legs wrapping around his thick waist almost against her will. The very things that disgusted her—his weight, his relentless force—became the catalyst for an overwhelming sensory overload. As Ichiro let out a final, guttural roar, Nagatoro felt her own climax shatter through her. It was a violent, white-hot explosion that left her shaking and breathless. She came hard, her body pulsing around him in a desperate, shameful rhythm that lasted long after he had finished. When it was over, Ichiro slumped to the side. Nagatoro lay there, staring at the cracked ceiling, her body still humming with the remnants of the pleasure she never wanted to feel. She was covered in his sweat, the smell was everywhere, and she felt utterly defeated. But as she reached out to grab the art portfolio, a small, dark part of her couldn't deny the truth. She had lost the bet, but in the depths of that disgusting room, she had found a sensation she would never be able to explain.'
13

Nagatoro Disgusted

blackhairedstudent
AI art "Ellie's day out"
30

Ellie's day out

zesoul
AI art "Class President"
12

Class President

octavian
AI art 'Altina BDSM' with user description 'Black Rabbit captured'
10

Altina BDSM

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Fern ❤️' with user description 'The night air in the Northern Lands was sharp enough to draw blood, a biting chill that usually signaled the presence of something ancient and hungry. Frieren sat by a dying campfire, her eyes fixed on a tattered map, while Fern stood in the long shadows cast by the ruins they had claimed for the night. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the occasional crackle of wood. "Mistress Frieren," Fern began, her voice steady despite the rapid, frantic pounding of her heart against her ribs. "The demon terrorizing this province is not a simple predator. My investigations confirmed a much more disturbing reality. He doesn't just kill for sustenance; he obsesses. He has a fixation—a fetish—for you. He has been enslaving human girls, styling their hair to match yours, and forcing them into a life of servitude in his sanctum. But he doesn't just want a copy. He wants the Legend." Frieren looked up, her green eyes reflecting the fading embers. "It's a troublesome trap, Fern. A mana-dampening field like the one surrounding his lair makes a direct magical assault suicide. We should wait for him to emerge for his next hunt." "We don't have time. Another girl was taken tonight, and the villagers say his 'consecration' rituals usually end in the victim's death once his obsession fades," Fern countered, stepping fully into the light. "I have studied his patterns. He lets his guard down only during the act of intimacy. He enters a trance of pure, hedonistic focus where his mana suppression falters. This is the only way, Mistress. I look enough like you that in the dim, incense-heavy light of his lair, he won't know the difference. I will go in. I will endure him, and when he is at his most vulnerable—at the very moment of his release—I will execute him with a point-blank Zoltraak." Frieren’s eyes narrowed. "Fern, do you truly understand the gravity of this? He is a monster of the old era." "I am a mage," Fern said, her eyes burning with resolve. "My body is a tool for the peace of this land. Please... let me protect the people." The demon’s sanctum smelled of old parchment, sulfur, and a heavy, cloying musk. Fern, her hair styled with painstaking precision to mimic her mentor’s, was not shackled; the demon preferred his "Frieren" to be a willing participant in his fantasy. He was a towering figure of darkness, but as he approached her, his movements were surprisingly slow, almost reverent. "Frieren..." the demon whispered, his clawed hand gently stroking her hair. "Finally, the Silver Witch of the South is mine to mold." He dropped to his knees before her, his touch almost tender as he pressed against her lips. Fern closed her eyes and opened her mouth, accepting him. She gagged slightly as the sheer, demonic size of him filled her, but the demon was patient, moving with a rhythmic, gentle suction that forced her to accommodate his staggering girth. When he was satisfied, he lifted her onto a stone altar. He moved with a steady, agonizingly slow pressure as he entered her anal passage first. The stretch was immense, a monstrous fullness that made her vision swim, but as he began to move, his pace was hypnotic. He then shifted, guiding his length into her pussy while maintaining a physical connection to her rear with his hands. Soon, he was using both her anal and vaginal paths continuously, a deep, rhythmic movement that filled her entire core with a dark, pulsating heat. The sensation began to change. Against her will, Fern felt her body betraying her mission. The slow, rhythmic friction and the demon's unnatural warmth were too much for her mortal nerves to ignore. She reached her first climax, a silent, shaking peak. The demon hammered into her, but it wasn't a brutal assault—it was a deep, soul-shaking connection. Fern reached a second, even more violent climax as he continued his steady, gentle pace, her body arching off the stone in a spasm of pure pleasure. Finally, the demon’s breathing hitched. His movements became frantic as he reached the peak of his obsession. He let out a guttural moan, his body tensing. At that exact microsecond, the mana-dampening field flickered. Fern didn't hesitate. Her eyes snapped open, glowing with a cold, murderous light. Her hand pointed directly at his throat. "Zoltraak," she whispered. A beam of pure killing magic erupted, vaporizing his head and chest. The weight on her back vanished. Fern lay on the altar for a long time before cleaning herself and walking out to where Frieren was waiting. Frieren wrapped her cloak around Fern’s shoulders, noting the flush on her apprentice’s cheeks. Fern looked down, her voice a soft, honest whisper. "Mistress... that devil was very experienced. He... he made me cum two times." Frieren was silent for a moment, then she simply pulled Fern closer. "Let's find a bathhouse, Fern. You've done enough."'
23

Fern ❤️

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Cave Quickie with a Dragon Cutie' for prompt: '1girl, dragon-girl, scaled skin, red scales, anthro, dragon tail, human face, brown hair, {brown skin), (yellow eyes), big hair, messy hair, portrait, face scales, forehead gem'
10

Cave Quickie with a Dragon Cutie

soup
AI art 'Elesa' with user description 'Catch'em all !'
2

Elesa

nackara
AI art "Soulless Suka"
18

Soulless Suka

octavian
AI art 'Noelle Silva ❤️'
25

Noelle Silva ❤️

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Futawolf Frenzy: Breeding Season' with user description 'Gonna be a whole new tribe of werewolves before the year is out...~'
8

Futawolf Frenzy: Breeding Season

darkbae
AI art 'Hiyoko Casting' with user description 'The fluorescent lights of the terminal hummed with a sterile, soul-crushing boredom that I absolutely adored. I adjusted my sunglasses, my fingers drumming against the handle of a vibrant green suitcase. It was heavy—unusually heavy for a carry-on—but I pulled it with a skip in my step. Inside, tucked away like a precious, foul-mouthed doll, was Hiyoko Saionji. The flight was a blur of despair-filled anticipation. By the time I reached the humid, nameless country and navigated the back alleys to the rendezvous point—a derelict warehouse smelling of salt and rot—my skin was tingling. A group of men stood there, the kind of bottom-feeders that society tries to pretend don't exist. Sexual offenders, outcasts, the worst of the worst. Perfect. "You brought the package?" the leader grunted, eyeing the green case. "Oh, better than that," I purred, dropping to my knees. "I brought an appetizer." I didn't waste time. I moved from one man to the next, my hands and mouth working with a manic, despair-inducing precision. I did fellatio on every single member of the gang, watching their eyes glaze over with a mix of lust and confusion. I wanted them primed. I wanted them hungry. I wanted their blood pumping and their primal instincts screaming for the main course. By the time I stood up, wiping my lip with a wicked grin, the room was thick with the scent of musk and anticipation. "Enjoy the dessert," I giggled, blowing them a kiss as I stepped out into the night, leaving the suitcase behind. ### Hiyoko’s POV The world was dark, cramped, and cold. I had been curled in that suitcase for hours, completely naked, my skin pressed against the hard lining. I could hear the muffled sounds of Junko’s voice, the wet, rhythmic noises of her "service," and then... a final, chilling silence. The suitcase tipped over with a thud. The zipper rasped, a jagged line of light cutting through my dark prison. The lid flipped open. I blinked against the harsh glare of a single hanging bulb. I didn't reach for anything to cover myself—I didn't have anything. I was exposed, vulnerable, and exactly where I wanted to be. Surrounding me was a wall of men—rough, scarred, and completely aroused. I looked up from my position on the floor and saw a forest of penises, angry and engorged, hovering just inches from my face. My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild, rhythmic drumming that echoed in my ears. They didn't waste a second. Rough hands hauled my naked body out of the case. They moved with a practiced, brutal efficiency, binding my bare limbs in intricate BDSM ropes. The coarse hemp bit into my soft, unprotected skin, pulling me taut until my back arched and my body was displayed like a piece of meat on a hook. "Look at this little thing," one of them hissed, his hand calloused as it roamed over my stomach. "She's been waiting for us." Then, the onslaught began. Because I was already naked, there was no barrier, no delay. They used me in every way possible—orally, vaginally, and anal. I was a vessel for their collective depravity. The friction was relentless, the weight of their massive bodies crushing the air from my lungs. I was gagged, my cries muffled as they took turns, sometimes two or three at once, filling every available space I had. The humiliation was absolute; the physical sensation was an overwhelming tide of heat and pressure that made my vision swim. But as a thick, hot wave of their release coated my bare skin and filled my throat, a thought flickered through the haze of my mind. Junko thought she was breaking me. She thought she was throwing me into the pit of despair by selling my naked, helpless body to these monsters. But as I felt the rough rope burn against my thighs and the sheer power of these men tearing into me, I couldn't help the secret, internal thrill. This was exactly what I had asked for. I had been the one to whisper the idea to Junko weeks ago, feigning fear while planting the seed of this "betrayal." The kidnapping, the suitcase, the naked delivery—it was all my design. Every sting of the rope and every monstrous stretch was a fulfillment of the one fetish I could never tell the other Ultimates about. As the leader gripped my hair and forced me down once more, I didn't feel despair. I felt a twisted, ecstatic sense of victory.'
22

Hiyoko Casting

blackhairedstudent
AI art "Midoriya's multiverse adventures."
13

Midoriya's multiverse adventures.

damion1226
AI art 'Tribute to Dragonmoon X' with user description 'Maybe I'm showing my age, but does anyone remember this?'
5

Tribute to Dragonmoon X

octavian
AI art "Tsunade Casting"
19

Tsunade Casting

blackhairedstudent
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