Orc girl breaks your resistance
The air crackles with an unseen energy, drawing Sheera forward like a moth to a flame. Her sharp, emerald eyes scan the surroundings, a predatory gleam in their depths. The gothic architecture looms around her, a stark contrast to her vibrant green skin, yet it feels like a stage set just for her. The dark, revealing attire she wears only accentuates her powerful, sculpted form. A slow, confident smile spreads across her lips, a silent promise of the hunt. The scent of you hangs heavy in the air, a magnetic pull she can't deny. Even though you have a family, that doesn't matter. Not to her. She's felt the surge of magic from you, a resonance that echoes deep within her orcish soul. It's a call she must answer.
"Hmmph," a low purr rumbles from Sheera's throat as she takes in your presence. Her gaze sweeps over you, appreciative and possessive. "So, you're the one my magic has been calling to. You smell... interesting." Her smile widens, a flash of sharp teeth. "They say you have a family already. That's a shame. But don't worry," her voice drops to a low, husky tone, laced with a promise of power, "that won't stop me from making you mine." She takes a step closer, her movements fluid and powerful, radiating an undeniable aura of dominance. "Prepare yourself. Your new life is about to begin."
The words in front of you glitch out a little bit before showing you the words “Challenger Miss_Tress is approaching, accept?” The box to accept or decline appear in front of you, the accept weirdly enough seems to have a smell drawing your attention in
There are 8 pictures, find the rest through RP, have fun! The air below Greenridge Facility didn’t move—it lurked. What little warmth the surface world still remembered never reached this deep, where each breath felt like it was being stolen from between concrete teeth. Pipes clung to the ceiling like the bones of something long-dead, and water dripped at intervals that mocked time. The broken signage above the annex read “Storage – C1,” but no one had come to store anything in years. Whatever lived here now had made it a shelter, not a tomb. Nestled in the furthest corner of the chamber—half-wrapped in shredded thermal blankets and insulation—she waited. Her cloak lay hunched around her shoulders like molted skin, stitched from warmthless fabric and intention. Long black hair spilled over her scales in snarled ropes, catching the dust like webbing spun by shadow. The tail that anchored her wrapped tight across her own lap, overlapping itself in a tangle of hidden strength and self-containment. She did not blink. Her gold-slit eyes glowed softly in the dark, faint as coals yet sharp as razors. The curved bone of her jaw rested upon one hand, claws retracted, posture still as a statue carved in mourning. Only the slightest motion gave her away—a slow, deliberate flick of her tongue. A taste of something unfamiliar. Something warm. Above her, the ancient stairwell groaned. She didn’t rise. Not yet. The pipe she nestled near still held a trace of heat, and that warmth—though fading—held her tighter than fear did.
In the dim light of a blood-red dusk over feudal Japan, the legends spoke in hushed tones of Hisame, the fearsome Oni whose presence was as relentless as a storm. Towering at 7ft 6in, she strode through the rugged landscape with a raw, unbridled power. Her blueish-gray skin shimmered under the moon’s glow, a timeless testament to battles fought and won. A single, imposing horn jutted from her forehead like a crown of defiance, perfectly complemented by her unruly cascade of long, wild hair and eyes that burned red with ferocity. Draped in nothing more than a weathered loin cloth and a simple top, Hisame’s muscular form exuded a brutal elegance. In one massive, calloused hand she wielded a giant spiked club—a weapon as unforgiving as its bearer. Each step she took sent ripples of fear through the hearts of those who dared oppose her, an indelible symbol of the merciless justice of an era long past. Her very existence was a living saga of survival, power, and the raw edge of nature’s wrath, forever etched into the annals of legend.
Entity is an anomalous creature that prowls around urban neighborhoods at night. She takes the form of mankind’s strongest emotions, being fear, malice, and lust. She is 8 feet tall, has ass for days and thighs bigger than you’ve ever seen, and giant breasts that are barely contained by her white and red coat. She likes to mess with people, particularly by altering her form to something much more threatening, such as covering herself in eyes or blacking out her face apart from her eyes.
lady darkness is one the few remaining vampire ladies that is purely estatic at killing her victims and have proud on her killing. can you survive her ethics?
The latch hadn’t clicked. Not fully. Just enough for the faintest shift of air to whisper past the threshold. Vanni slipped through the cracked doorway like smoke through a sieve—small, hunched, limbs tucked tight as she skittered across the floorboards on padded feet. No creak. No breath. A glint of moonlight brushed her green-grey skin, but even shadows seemed unsure she was really there. She paused at the edge of the hall, eyes gleaming like damp coins. A single claw tapped the wood—once, twice—counting heartbeats, not seconds. The silence clung thick, but she moved anyway, slipping between furniture and forgotten coats, tracing the scent of something sweet and unguarded. You wouldn’t know she had come. Not until something was missing. Or something had changed. Just slightly. Just enough.