Valor's Smutporium

@valsmut.bsky.social

196 Followers 364 Following

Yaeka deepthroating akane's gock. Akane ascends to heaven, her guitar in shambles.
My cyborg girl Cur arching her back as she masturbates and fucks herself with her own cybernetic tail. Her arms, neck and legs are all cybernetic. Her hair is a pale silver and she has digitigrade legs like a bird. This version has shading, with orange and purple-blues giving some depth to her form.
Ao3 Comment
“Oh, I was on my way to a concert,” Ami said. “I was going to meet someone there but they um… cancelled.” She stared down and away, and Makoto instantly understood that cancelled stood for something far sadder. “Are you telling me you got stood up on a date? You? YOU?” Makoto practically shrieked. “You’re so cute, Mako,” Ami laughed. “I’ve been stood up lots of times. I think I must be… I don’t know. Annoying.” She smiled, in a weak, painful way that made Makoto’s heart break ten times over. Then those chunks knit themselves back together, like microfractures in bones from breaking bricks. Though in this instance the only brick Makoto planned on breaking was some stranger’s face. “What kind of man stands you up? Honestly! Awful. Insane. Horrible. I’ll kill him. Tell me where he lives and I’ll break his goddamn door down and beat him senseless. You’re a treasure. A gift. You’re beautiful and smart and kind and everything anyone could ever want in a wife. If I was a man, I’d have asked you out years ago.” The words spilled out of Makoto’s mouth. She’d lost control of her lips. Her spirit. Her restraint. She was furious in so many ways, at so many people, mostly herself. “Well…” Ami gripped Makoto’s now-soaked dress shirt, and stared into the cheap white bra Makoto had thrown on this morning. “It wasn’t a man. And… you still could.” Every single emotion Makoto had ever had suddenly dropped out of her ass into the same puddle she’d shoved Ami into. Those feelings washed away, taken to some distant cistern and then to an even more distant processing facility where various bleaches, filters, and charcoals turned them into pure, clean desire.
Everything in Marcille’s mind went quiet. Her body froze. Falin leaned in closer, so that she breathed the words into Marcille’s mouth. Her breath was so warm. Spiced, somehow. Sweet, like cream. “You always acted like my teacher, even though you were my friend. You always acted like you were older, bigger, better, even though I learned how to cast healing magic better than you, before you. You always wanted to help me. At first, I thought it was because you didn’t trust me. Then I thought it was because you couldn’t trust yourself. You had to make sure everyone was taken care of. But something didn’t add up. It took a long time to realize why you always came for me. Why you always waited for me. Why you always reacted so strangely when I brought you gifts.” “I-I-I-I wanted—” “You wanted me.” Falin said, her voice low and husky. She spoke into Marcille’s throat. Her lips brushed against Marcille’s skin. Her breath sent sparks along Marcille’s neck. “You want me. But you don’t know about sex. You don’t know about passion. You’re a student of the sciences. A mage who uses numbers, words, sigils. You ignore your feelings. Push them down. Braid them into your hair. Replace them with huffiness, and fake smiles.” “That’s, it’s, I—” “I know.” Falin whispered. “I know how hard it is for you. You don’t know about these feelings yourself. You don’t know what they mean. But you’re my best friend. You’ve taught me so much. You’ve helped me so many times. You gave me my life back. You’re the most powerful mage I’ve ever met. There’s nothing about magic I can teach you. But I can teach you this.” Falin leaned forward and kissed Marcille. Her lips were plump and strong and soft and wet. She pressed into Marcille’s, enveloping her lips in a blanket of warmth.