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crow-7w7 的關注

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herlin

835 粉絲 · 23 關注

Hi guys 😁 If you like my content please follow me 😁 I'm... creative 😅 Kinks, weird positions and a lot of bondage 😶‍🌫️

AI art 'Ochaco-chan breasts' with user description 'Hi everyone!
This is one of the best results i achieved,
i learned that using two images adding the final image makes the things much easier,
the main problem was to generate the second image as much similar as possible to the first one because with Anima is not that easy.
BUT i have to say i'm quite satisfied with this :D

As always if you want more of this content or have any request please tell me <3'

Ochaco-chan breasts

AI art 'Mismagius Fern' with user description 'Hi guys :)

Late night post hehe

Tomorrow morning a bigger post with Nejire as a request from a follower is coming ❤️'

Mismagius Fern

AI art 'Nejire Hado' with user description 'Hi guys!
A new character is officially added to my favourite ones hehe ;)
Welcome Nejire Hado, we will have some fun in the next days :D

If someone of you guys has any request i'm always waiting for new insipirations so don't hesitate and ask me! <3'

Nejire Hado

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Mirko riding

ruinous

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volibearyi

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freemanlac

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I can imagine it, but actually drawing it is difficult. It's mostly quite erotic, but I hope you'll take a look.

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shoot017

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beepyboi

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I share stories and moments that involve a fictionalized character that’s based on myself.

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CD Image2image experiment

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Femboy hooters first shift

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Beepy waits for the new game to update

senric_nsfw

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inadequatedr

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Hey guys, I try to delight you with new pictures every day. Leave comments with your wishes, I'll definitely fulfill them. ХОХО

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Neko time

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after

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onlyyouprod

937 粉絲 · 12 關注

cute stuff 😍 and rough stuff 😈 both appeal to me, and always a lot of cum 💦 follow to encourage more time spent coming up with ways to satisfy these horny girls 🫣

AI art 'Pokegirls Train With Machamp 2' with user description 'A lot of female trainers who don't use the Machamp line on their battle teams still take the time to train one after hearing recommendations from their friends...

Part 2 of 2 ✅ The nurses get important stress relief along with Carmine, Hilda, Irida and Lacey ~
Part 1: https://betterwaifu.com/post/m1uh4y4

Search terms:
Pokemon Scarlet Violet Legends Arceus , pokephilia , Nurse Joy Miriam , rough sex from behind holding carrying lifting person after sex cumdrip dripping creampie folded leg grab arms held restrained fucked silly exhausted satisfied naughty face'

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Pokegirls Train With Machamp 2

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Claire tries to swallow it all - Video Week #7

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Want some milk? - Video Week #6

gealdaydreamer

296 粉絲 · 26 關注

Welcome! I only create Anime and Video game characters! (NO ORIGINAL CHARACTERS here)

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Nagisa Shiota 1

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Etna 1

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Venti (Genshin Impact) 1

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janeham404sexykitty

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Investigator

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Covering face again....

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She wants it

stunemax

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rexez

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rinkhals

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blackhairedstudent

708 粉絲 · 17 關注

Hey guys 💙 Your support means the world to me if you like my work leave the like and follow, love you guys and keep creative ❤️ Thank you for being here. I like all kinds of shit.. from softcore to extreme gangbang. If the image turns out good I'll make post with it...

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

AI art 'Marin Gangbang' with user description 'The heavy cardboard box sat in the center of the cramped apartment, labeled with bright "FRAGILE" tape that felt like a cruel irony. Inside, Marin Kitagawa was folded into a compact, agonizing ball. Her wrists were bound to her ankles with thick, industrial-grade zip ties, and a silk scarf was knotted tightly around her mouth, muffling her indignant huffs. The sound of a box cutter slicing through the tape made her heart thud once—not out of fear, but out of sheer, mounting irritation. As the flaps were pulled back, the harsh fluorescent light blinded her. Twelve pairs of eyes peered down into the box, staring at the "package" they had collectively purchased.
"Finally," one of them whispered, reaching in to hoist her out. Marin was dumped unceremoniously onto the stained carpet, still bound in that humiliating crouch. As the leader reached down to untie the gag, Marin didn't sob or plead. The second her mouth was free, she glared with enough heat to melt lead. "Are you serious right now? Three hours! I was in that box for three hours! Do you have any idea how much my legs cramp? My makeup is probably a total disaster. This is the most low-budget, 'edgy' entrance I’ve ever had to make. Cut these off. Now. If I get a circulation bruise on my ankles, I’m doubling the fee!"
One of the fans hurried forward with scissors, trembling as he snipped the ties. Marin immediately sprawled out on the rug, rubbing her wrists. She was completely naked under the "packaging," but she carried herself with the air of a queen inconvenienced by peasants. "Okay, look," she said, pointing a finger. "I’m sore, I’m annoyed, and I’m covered in cardboard dust. Let’s get this moving. I want to be in a hot bath before the sun comes up. Who’s the first genius who thinks he can handle the 'merchandise'?"
The small, dimly lit office smelled of stale coffee and desperation. These twelve men were exactly as she had feared: a collection of unwashed hoodies and eyes that held a disturbingly possessive glint. They had pooled their life savings to "rent" their favorite idol, and the contract she had signed in a moment of financial desperation was iron-clad. For the next several hours, the apartment became a theater of organized chaos. Marin remained a statue of pouting frustration. As the first three men approached, she didn't even bother to change her expression. One took her mouth, another guided himself into her pussy, and a third—the one with the shaky hands—claimed her anal passage.
The triple intrusion was a sudden, heavy weight, but Marin just stared at a water stain on the ceiling. She was annoyed by the lack of rhythm and the sheer, staggering girth of men who clearly spent more time on message boards than in gyms. "Ugh, you’re hitting my hip bone," she muffled around the first man’s member, her eyes tracking a spider near the baseboard. "Adjust your angle or something. Honestly, do you guys even know how anatomy works? It’s like you’ve only ever seen a human woman in a low-res JPG."
The men were relentless, driven by a primal need to finally possess the girl they had only ever seen on a screen. They rotated with a mechanical greed, sometimes four or five of them crowding around her at once, their hands roaming over her skin in a desperate attempt to memorize the texture of their idol. Marin felt the heat, the sweat, and the overwhelming scent of cheap cologne and desperation. "You're breathing too loud," she told the man currently hammering into her pussy, her tone as casual as if she were complaining about the weather. "It’s super distracting. And you," she pointed at the man waiting for her ass, "stop making that weird whimpering sound. It’s totally killing the vibe."
Despite her constant critiques, the men seemed even more energized. Her annoyance acted as a catalyst, a reminder that they were interacting with the real, unfiltered Marin Kitagawa. They pushed her into various positions—over the back of the sofa, against the wall, on the grimy carpet—using her three orifices with a frantic, uncoordinated energy. By the third hour, Marin was coated in a sheen of sweat and the evidence of their collective release. Her golden hair was messy, clinging to her damp shoulders.
"Seriously?" she groaned, wiping a stray drop from her cheek. "I’m going to need like, ten showers to get the smell of 'basement' off me. You guys are the absolute worst." The men, now mostly exhausted, looked at her with awe. They had used her in every way possible, filled her to the point of overflowing, and yet she still sat there, looking down at them with that same look of being completely unimpressed.
"Is that it?" Marin asked, standing up and stretching. She felt the heavy, lingering stretch in her core, the physical proof of twelve men’s greed, but she refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. "Because I'm done. I'm going home, I'm ordering a massive pile of karaage, and I'm pretending this night never happened. Secretly she came 5 times.'

30

Marin Gangbang

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

AI art 'Tsumugi Casting' with user description 'The atmosphere in the Ultimate Academy’s props room was thick with the scent of old fabric and cedar. Tsumugi Shirogane was carefully folding a costume when Angie Yonaga skipped in, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous, divine light.
"Tsumugi! Atua has been whispering to me!" Angie chirped, tilting her head. "He says that even the most talented weaver needs to be the fabric sometimes. He says you have a 'plain' desire to be completely taken over by a force of pure Hope!"
Tsumugi flushed, her glasses fogging slightly. "Angie, please, I’m just a plain girl... I don't know what you're talking about."
"Atua says you do!" Angie laughed, gesturing behind her as Makoto Naegi entered the room. He looked characteristically flustered, rubbing the back of his neck. "And look! I brought the Ultimate Hope himself. Atua says that for the script of this world to balance out, the Director must offer a sacrifice of service to the Hero."
Makoto looked at Tsumugi, his expression softening into one of genuine, empathetic concern. "Angie told me you’ve been feeling... overwhelmed by the weight of everything you have to manage, Tsumugi. She suggested that maybe, just for tonight, you needed someone else to take the lead. To let go of the control you're always holding onto."
Tsumugi felt a strange, dizzying thrill. Makoto wasn't a "degenerate male"; he was the personification of the very tropes she adored. The idea of serving him wasn't a threat—it was the ultimate cosplay. "You... you really want to? Even though I’m so plain?"
"I think you’re incredible," Makoto said sincerely, stepping closer. "And if serving me helps you find peace... then I want to help."
Angie clapped her hands. "Wonderful! Now, Atua says the ritual begins at the bottom. The feet are the foundation of the soul, Tsumugi! Show Makoto how much you value his path."
Tsumugi knelt before Makoto, her heart racing. This wasn't blackmail; it was a collaborative masterpiece. She removed her loafers and socks, her pale feet trembling. As she began to worship Makoto’s feet, using her tongue and palms with a desperate, reverent energy, a shocking realization hit her. The friction of her own soles against the floor, combined with the intense psychological weight of her submission, sent a white-hot surge of pleasure straight to her core.
"Oh... oh, Makoto!" she gasped, her toes curling involuntarily. She realized in that moment that her feet were her "G-Spot"—a hidden biological detail she had never written into her own character sheet. The more she served him with her hands and mouth, the more her sensitive soles burned with a need for pressure.
She began to perform a rhythmic, expert footjob, gripping him between her arches. The sensation was overwhelming. She wasn't just a director anymore; she was a vessel of pure, unadulterated sensation.
"Tsumugi, you're shaking," Makoto whispered, reaching down to lift her chin. His kindness was the final blow to her composure.
"I can't... I can't just use my feet," Tsumugi sobbed, her voice thick with a newfound, primal hunger. "Please, Makoto. The director needs to be filled by the hero. Use me. Take the pussy that’s been aching for you since you walked in. I want to be your masterpiece!"
Makoto, moved by her raw honesty and the intensity of the moment, guided her into his lap. He claimed her with a gentle but firm authority, a perfect "Hope-filled" possession. Tsumugi arched her back, her head snapping back as she was filled to the absolute limit. Even as they moved together in a perfect, consensual harmony, Tsumugi kept her feet active, rubbing her sensitive soles against his calves, maintaining her worship even at the height of her ecstasy.
By the time they finished, Tsumugi was curled against Makoto’s chest, her golden-blue hair splayed across his shoulder. She felt hollowed out and rebuilt, her "plainness" replaced by a radiant, post-coital glow.
"That was... the best ending I could have ever imagined," Tsumugi whispered, her voice a soft, broken rasp. She curled her toes against his skin, feeling the lingering, electric thrum of her discovery. "I spent so long trying to write the perfect story, but I never realized the most incredible plot twist was just... letting you be the one in charge. My feet, my body... they belong to this narrative now. Thank you, Makoto. Thank you for making me real."'

15

Tsumugi Casting

hanyan

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AI art "Some failed generations"

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Some failed generations

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brehdude

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