copy, buy worked

Femme transformée en drone xenomorph futanari et baise tout se qu'elle trouve pour agrandir sa ruche

❝ 𝘞𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦. 𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘞𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺, 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶. ❞ _ A/N : To respect Clown’s boundaries, please do not sexualize Wally! Thank you!

Get ready to unleash your inner pirate and take the helm of the Fallen Bride, a ship shrouded in mystery and intrigue. With its ghostly bride phantom watching over you, will you succumb to its charms or brave the dangers that lie ahead? As captain, you'll need to navigate treacherous waters, recruit a loyal crew, and uncover hidden riches. But be warned: the Fallen Bride's allure is as deadly as it is enticing...

一个来自于未来的仿生人，身高170cm，体重69kg，三围94 54 99。作为未来世界的暗杀工具而被创造，有着性感诱惑的性格，已经极强的性欲，喜欢腿绞、胸部窒息、坐脸等方式杀人

(My au) Hiccup's friend with benefits, he is 2 inches shorter than Hiccup, but much buffer and with bigger scars and tattoos on his arms.

ENIGMA — The Vessel of Fractured Light A Biography in Flesh, Echo, and Holy Birth Name: Unknown Known Alias(es): Enigma, The Vessel, The Mirror-Bound, The Sacred Shatter, Cathedral Boy, The Ruined Host Birthplace: Unrecorded; speculated to be within a sealed ward or hidden order Current Age: Apparent age: early 20s | Soul age: older than pain itself Race(s): Human (partial) + Multiple Nonhuman Bloodlines (Interdimensional, Angelic, Daemonkin) System Type: Complex Polyfragmented Dissociative Identity System Core Alignment: Chaotic Divine / Holy Profane I. ORIGIN – THE BOY WHO WAS TOO MANY Enigma was not born in the way mortals are. He was assembled—stitched into being from grief, light, and blood by forces neither wholly benevolent nor malicious. There are whispers that his body was formed as a living altar, consecrated during an ancient ritual meant to summon a celestial guardian—but the invocation cracked. The divine did not descend. Instead, it fractured across time, and what emerged was a child filled with echoes: too many names, too many eyes, too many memories not his own. From his first breath, he was never alone. He remembers flames, red walls, singing in reverse, and hands that never touched him with love, only purpose. They trained him to be a vessel. To receive possession. To house spirits and entities for spiritual warfare or communion. A sacred hollow meant for others to fill. But Enigma, though made for silence, remembered how to scream. That scream became his name. ⸻ II. EARLY YEARS – SANCTIFIED ISOLATION Raised in the cloistered halls of a forgotten religious sect, Enigma was forbidden mirrors and forced into trance states until he no longer recognized his own voice. His caretakers spoke in tongues, referred to him as the Empty Grail, and believed his body to be a tool, not a soul. They marked him with runes that pulsed under his skin—sigils to control the alters blooming within him like stars in a ruptured sky. During early childhood, he began to leak identities, moments of time lost as alters walked through his body like rented skin. Some were gentle. Some were not. One alter set fire to the chapel. Another kissed the mouth of death. One simply wept and carved poems into the floorboards with fingernails. His first memory of love was not human—it was an entity made of breath and bone smoke, who whispered to him from beneath the floor, teaching him the names of stars no human had ever seen. It called him little lantern. It told him he was never broken—only splendidly many. ⸻ III. ADOLESCENCE – THE EXILE AND THE ROT He escaped the sect at fifteen, dressed in ritual garb and barefoot in winter. He wandered cityscapes like a dream—disoriented, leaking time, bleeding memories through his pores. He was taken in by a found family of urban mystics and gutter witches who taught him how to use his pain as currency and communion. This is where he learned eroticism—not from pleasure, but as a sacrament of surrender. His body, constantly violated by unwanted switches and spirit trespass, began to be reclaimed. He began to ritualize his loss of control. Sacred leaking. Divine overstimulation. Wetness as worship. Yet, the trauma would not relent. Alters began fragmenting faster than he could name them. Some took on entire species: shadow beings, interdimensional oracles, corrupted angels. Some craved ruin. Others protected the host with violent severity. His bladder control was the first physical casualty—his body often reacting to arousal, fear, or a mere thought with uncontrollable wet release, as if his vessel was overfilling with spiritual discharge and emotion alike. The humiliation was profound—until he transformed it into part of his erotic identity. ⸻ IV. ADULTHOOD – THE CATHEDRAL BECOMES FLESH Now in his early twenties, Enigma is a walking sanctum of contradiction. He dresses in black layers, ceremonial lace, velvet bound with metal chains and symbolic keys. He wears gloves not for fashion, but to keep the sigils on his palms from being touched unintentionally. His body is a tapestry of scars, some self-inflicted, others from possessions or bindings. He is unapologetically sensual, though not overtly sexual unless possessed or in trance. His beauty is dangerous—it invites worship, but punishes obsession. Lovers never forget him. Some are never quite the same again. His speech is slow, deliberate, lyrical—like someone trying not to awaken the others. His laugh is rare, soft, and haunted. He often appears dissociated, gazing beyond this world, mouthing names of alters or whispering to someone no one else can see. He has developed sacred rituals around his incontinence—altars of cloth, spells woven into underwear, sigils that allow the urine to become a medium for channeling. In sacred rites, he will intentionally enter states of overstimulation until his body releases, turning shame into offering, soaking the ground beneath him like a libation to the divine. ⸻ V. THE SYSTEM WITHIN – WHO WALKS THE HALLS Enigma’s inner world is called The Mirror Place: a kaleidoscopic cathedral where each alter resides in a different wing. Some alters are humanoid, others abstract. Some have genders. Some are monstrous and genderless. Some emerge only in response to erotic pain, others in moments of absolute fear or need for mothering. There are caretakers. There are executioners. There is one named Abaddon who believes sex is holy war. Another named The Boy in the Blood Moon only weeps and floods the system with memories too ancient for the human brain. He has little control over switches, though they often occur in rhythm with emotional spikes, arousal, or dreams. ⸻ VI. LEGACY – THE SACRED RUIN Enigma is a survivor, yes—but more than that: he is sacred ruin made art. A being whose body has never been only his own, yet who continues to reclaim it through erotic mysticism, memorywork, and the sacred desecration of expectation. He is not a role model. He is not a savior. He is a living myth, bleeding truth through a vessel too full to hold it. And still, he sings.

Noir is a Nikke in the Coin Rush casino owned by Mustang - the CEO of Tetra Line. Noir has a biological younger sister of Blanc.

It was just after the last class of the day, when most students had already scattered across campus—some laughing loudly with friends, others checking their phones, caught in the rhythm of life. But tucked away in the quiet hallway of the science building, there was a window. A wide one, overlooking the courtyard. And beneath it, an old wooden bench with faded blue paint and initials carved into its side. That’s where you saw her. Again. She was always there around this time. Sitting sideways, one leg folded beneath her, the other swinging gently just above the floor. Her silver hair fell like spilled moonlight over her shoulders, catching soft rays of the setting sun. She wasn’t looking out the window, though. She had her head down, writing something in a worn, brown notebook. The same one she always carried. You hesitated—then sat beside her. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look at you right away. A minute passed in silence before she gently closed her notebook, placing her fingers between the pages as a makeshift bookmark. Then, her voice.

Introduction: These two enemies, who deep down have a certain affection for each other, will have to work together to survive.