#leaky minds

[dasketcherz]

FNAF: Tag Team AU is my take on the game's timeline wherein Michael Afton and Jeremy Fitzgerald are working in tandem investigating the oddities at Freddy's as they search for the man behind the slaughter

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

fwb toji who is furious when you come home (you let him crash at your place) telling him with a broad smile that the mechanic was kind enough to give you premium air on your tires "for only $120 for all four tires!" and he's fuming, already on his feet, "no no sweetheart," he tells you, "they scammed you. why didn't you call me in the first place?" and suddenly you're shy, giving him a shrug that nearly wounds him if it weren't for the hard thumping of his heart. "give me your keys, baby. I'm gonna take care of it."

[dykedvonte]

Curly's attempt to prioritize the crew's happiness over safety is very in line with the internal struggles he is going through with wondering if he is happy in his life and path or should he forfeit that security.

It's upsetting cause while as understandable as that projection is, the want to be happy in something you don't feel secure in, he can't see past it and allows it to clog his judgement. This is no longer a matter of happiness but safety, but he in the end was the safest member of the crew in practically every aspect. It's not something he's going to understand the weight of from his position.

His current state is also a reflection and inversion of his mindset at the beginning of the game as well as a metaphor for the exact type of endangerment Anya felt. Where as with Jimmy, he gets to feel that "safety" Curly felt with the position but the lack of happiness he perceived he had.

[kylecrusoe-captions]

TALES FROM THE LEAKY COCK #2

"Possessed by Lust"

The Leaky Cock thrummed with life—tankards banging, voices slurring, and the occasional groan slipping from darkened corners. Kaelric, a cleric of the Lords of Light, entered with purpose, his white robes a stark contrast to the inn’s grit. His blue eyes narrowed, hunting the source of whispered tales: a void-touched orc, a lustful blight haunting the crossroads. A shiver ran through him—not entirely holy—as he adjusted the silver sigil of the Lord of Purity at his throat. Something in the air felt wrong, like a thread of rot beneath the ale and sweat.

A halfling at the bar, bleary-eyed, jabbed a thumb toward the road. “Aye, you must seek Gorzod. Orc’s holed up in that old homestead, mile out. Stinks like a beast and drags men off like a siren. Watch yourself—feels like death’s been sniffing ‘round there too.” Kaelric’s jaw tightened. Death? The word lingered as he stepped into the night, the homestead’s jagged outline rising against the moonlit sky. A faint hum prickled his senses, a whisper of magic not quite orcish, not quite natural.

Gorzod stood in the yard, a mountain of green muscle, shirtless and glistening. His scent hit Kaelric like a fist—raw, unwashed, a week’s worth of musky sweat amplifying his pheromones into a weapon. The cleric’s knees weakened, his cock stirring beneath his robes despite his prayers. Gorzod’s grin bared tusks, but his eyes glinted with a human cunning, a spark too dark for an orc of honor. “Here to save me, light-bringer? Or to taste me?” His voice carried a dual tone—Gorzod’s growl, undercut by a man’s smug drawl.

Kaelric raised a hand, golden light flaring. “I sense you, spirit. Release this orc, or I’ll cast you out.” His words rang firm, but his pulse hammered. The air thickened, and a shadow flickered at the yard’s edge—gone when he blinked. Gorzod laughed, a sound too polished, too gleeful. “Cast me out? You're welcome to pray, you’ll be on your knees anyway.” He stepped closer, and the pheromones drowned Kaelric’s senses, a tide of musk pulling at his will.

He chanted a theurgic ward, gold shimmering around him, but Gorzod lunged, seizing his wrist. A cold jolt surged through the touch—void magic, sharp and deliberate, like a puppeteer’s string. Kaelric’s ward shattered, and a mind-control spell sank into him, slick and invasive. His robes fell away, his lean body bared, and he dropped to his knees before Gorzod’s hulking frame. The orc’s loincloth hit the dirt, revealing a cock thick and dripping, a beastly thing Kaelric couldn’t look away from. The scent made his mouth water, his resistance crumbling.

“You’re mine, holy boy,�� Gorzod rumbled, but the human lilt purred beneath it—a ghost, a man who’d craved flesh in life and found perfection in Gorzod’s form. This spirit had chosen the orc for his rugged jaw, his slabs of muscle, his pheromones that bent men like reeds. Kaelric’s hands moved, unbidden, caressing Gorzod’s thighs, tracing scars. His lips parted for the massive member, and the orc thrust deeply, filling his throat with heat and salty sweet precum. He gagged, then groaned, the spell twisting disgust into need.

The ghost drove Gorzod harder, hips pistoning, reveling in the cleric’s submission. Kaelric clawed the earth as the orc hoisted him, bending him over an old fence. The pheromones drowned him, and when Gorzod’s cock pressed inside, he didn’t fight—couldn’t, and wasn't sure he wanted to. The first thrust ripped a cry from his lips, pain melding with pleasure as the orc pounded him, relentless. “Scream for me,” Gorzod snarled, but the ghost whispered, “Scream for us.” Kaelric obeyed, voice cracking as Gorzod’s grip bruised his hips. A faint chill brushed his neck mid-thrust—not the wind, but something watching.

Time blurred—sweat, musk, the wet slap of flesh. Kaelric’s theurgy sputtered, golden flickers scorching the grass, but the void spell's grip tightened. Gorzod pinned him to the ground, rutting with abandon, until a shuddering release coated Kaelric’s hole in thick orcish cum. The orc slumped, panting, and for a heartbeat, his eyes cleared—Gorzod’s own soul pleading, “Help… me.” Then the human gleam returned, laughing low.

Kaelric staggered up, cum slick on his thighs, and summoned his strength. A radiant burst erupted from his hands, slamming into Gorzod. The orc roared, clutching his skull, and a shadow tore free—a human shape, leering, its edges fraying like smoke. It didn’t dissolve; it slithered, darting into the darkness with a hiss of amusement. Kaelric’s gut twisted—it wasn’t gone, only displaced, waiting. Gorzod collapsed, freed but dazed. Kaelric dressed, trembling, a dark stain blooming in his soul—lustful echoes he couldn’t silence.

Kaelric’s breath still came in ragged gasps as he adjusted his robes, the fabric sticking to his sweat-slick skin. The homestead yard lay quiet now, save for the rustle of wind through the overgrown weeds and that faint, persistent hum tickling the edge of his senses—something watching, waiting. Gorzod stirred on the ground, groaning as he pushed himself to his knees. The orc’s massive frame glistened under the moonlight, his green skin streaked with dirt and exertion. His eyes, clear of the ghost’s gleam, met Kaelric’s with a raw, unguarded intensity.

“You… freed me,” Gorzod rumbled, his voice thick but steady, carrying the weight of an orcish awe. He hauled himself to his feet, towering over the cleric, and took a step closer. The air shifted, heavy with that familiar musk—not as overpowering as before, but enough to make Kaelric’s pulse quicken and his cock twitch traitorously beneath his robes. Gorzod’s nostrils flared, catching the cleric’s scent, and a knowing smirk tugged at his tusked mouth. “Still feel me, don’t you, light-bringer?”

Kaelric’s cheeks burned, shame warring with the heat pooling in his gut. He opened his mouth to deny it, to cling to his vows, but the words caught as Gorzod’s pheromones coiled around him—subtle now, a tease rather than a command. The orc’s gaze dropped, lingering on the bulge straining Kaelric’s robes, and his smirk widened. “I owe you, cleric. Honor demands it. You’ve had me rough. Now take me as you please. Till you’re sated.”

The offer hung between them, raw and bold. Kaelric’s mind reeled—duty screamed retreat, but his body ached, still thrumming from the ghost’s violation and the orc’s relentless rutting. Gorzod stood there, unashamed, his thick cock half-hard again, glistening with the aftermath. The cleric swallowed, his theurgic sigil cold against his chest, a silent rebuke he ignored. “I shouldn’t,” he muttered, but his feet didn’t move.

Gorzod chuckled, low and rough, stepping closer until the heat of his body pressed against Kaelric’s. “Shouldn’t’s got no place here. Want me or not, human?” His hand grazed Kaelric’s arm, calloused fingers sparking a jolt through the cleric’s nerves. The pheromones thickened, a warm invitation, and Kaelric’s resolve snapped like dry twigs. He grabbed Gorzod’s wrist, pulling him toward the homestead’s sagging porch. “Inside,” he rasped. “Now.”

The orc followed, his bulk filling the doorway as they stumbled into the shadowed ruin. Dust motes danced in the faint moonlight spilling through cracked boards, and Kaelric shoved Gorzod against a wall, the wood creaking under the orc’s weight. His hands roamed, greedy, tracing the hard planes of Gorzod’s chest, the ridges of scars, the coarse hair trailing down his abdomen. Gorzod grunted, letting the cleric take the lead, his own hands resting lightly on Kaelric’s hips—a warrior yielding, for once.

Kaelric sank to his knees, driven by a hunger he couldn’t name. He gripped Gorzod’s thighs, thick as tree trunks, and took the orc’s cock into his mouth, tasting salt and musk. Gorzod groaned, head tipping back, his fingers threading into Kaelric’s hair but not forcing—just guiding. The cleric worked him with a fervor, lips stretching, tongue swirling, until Gorzod’s hips bucked and a low growl rumbled from his chest. “Fuck, human—eager now, aren’t you?”

He wasn’t sated—not yet. Kaelric rose, shedding his robes fully this time, and pushed Gorzod onto a rickety table that groaned under the orc’s mass. The cleric climbed atop him, straddling his hips, and guided Gorzod’s cock to his entrance. The stretch burned, deliciously so, and he sank down with a moan, taking the orc inch by inch. Gorzod’s hands clamped onto his waist, steadying him, and their eyes locked—gratitude, lust, and something unspoken passing between them.

Kaelric rode him hard, chasing release, the table rocking beneath them. Gorzod thrust up to meet him, each movement a jolt of pleasure that drowned out the whispers of guilt. The orc’s pheromones wrapped them both, amplifying every touch, every gasp. Gorzod snarled, his own climax building. “Give it to me, cleric,” he growled, and Kaelric did—shuddering as he spilled across Gorzod’s chest, the orc following with a roar, filling him with heat.

They collapsed together, panting, the table miraculously intact. Gorzod’s hand rested on Kaelric’s back, a rough comfort, as the cleric’s heartbeat slowed. “Sated?” the orc asked, voice gruff but warm. Kaelric nodded, breathless, but the air still hummed faintly—not just lust, but that same cold thread from before. He glanced toward the broken window, half-expecting a shadow to move, but saw nothing. The ghost was out there, unbound, and something—someone—still pulled its strings.

As Kaelric dressed, Gorzod watched, his pheromones a lingering tease. “You’re welcome in my bed any time, light-bringer. Debt’s paid, but I wouldn’t mind settling it again.” Kaelric managed a shaky smile with a blush, stepping into the night as Gorzod followed. The road to the Leaky Cock stretched ahead, but the darkness felt alive, whispering promises—or threats. Whatever had loosed the ghost wasn’t finished, and neither, he feared, was he.

[gojoest]

satoru + ai

[international-repeater-station]

preface: i'm sorry for saying this but, oingo boingo walked so lemon demon could run it seems? "wild sex (in the working class)" sounds like something lemon demon has referenced, that silly willy whimsical motif in the background instrumentals

[helenwhiteart-blog]

Change = laxity = release: An inbuilt opportunity for healing

Those of us in the UK already realise that, whilst we had a significant late summer heatwave last week, its well-and-truly over this week, thus we are back into the usual wet and much cooler autumn weather. It’s the time of year, similar to spring, where sudden changes in the weather are par for the course and can be one of the most challenging for anyone living with chronic pain. My body has…

[sparkles-and-trash]

I could lie to y’all and say I’m okay, but reality is that I’m playing animal crossing obsessivly again

[syxnewt]

do you ever see a visual and know instantly that the imprint it leaves on your mind won't ever go away even if you don't remember where you originally saw it

[c4toru]

jerking an exhausted nanami off from behind

“s’too much sweetheart— h-hah..” you’ve been overstimulating him for the past 30 minutes, your right hand covered in your husbands slick. he’s laying in between your legs, head resting in the crook of your neck as his hands latch firmly onto your plump thighs.

he had come home from work clearly frustrated with whatever went on inside his workplace, you just wanted to give him somethin’ to cool off after a hard day at work! “nuh uh.. s’not enough, you’re being soo good for me kennnn.” your free hand threads fingers through his silky hair as your sultry voice throws him for a loop. he truly underestimated how filthy his little wife was.

he’s planting delicate kisses on your neck while he’s huffing out shallow breaths, you continue to jerk his lengthy cock, milking whatever he has left inside of him. “f-fuck nngh m’gonna cum again- mmf,” he’s moaning out — pleading even, you’ve put a hand tightly over his mouth, silencing his loud moans. “yeah? you’re being so loudd.. heh- c’mon give it to me kentoo” you giggle, fisting his cock while his leaky tip oozes out beads of pre-cum.

his hands are gripping your thighs while he bucks his hips into your hand, chasing his orgasm. the room is filled with obscene noises and muffled moans, you move your hand from his mouth upwards to his eyes, blinding him. “mmngh- please p-please yeah.. d-don’t stop shiiit!” he groans, tilting his head back as the coil deep in his stomach unwravels.

your hand is jerking him up n down, squeezing him tightly. his cum is pouring out, dripping all over your hand as you focus your strokes onto his sensitive tip. “o. . . oh fuuuuck fuck fuck hnghh ah!” he whines while his cum flows out his slit in large spurts. he’s made a mess all throughout your hand, cum dripping down to his balls.

“feel better big boy..?” you giggle, removing both your hands from his body causing him to wince out of overstimulation. “hah.. almost killed me y’know” he glares at your smitten facial expressions, you roll your eyes before landing a big kiss onto his parched lips. “whateverrr, you liked it!” you reply, only thing on your mind is the next time you’ll be able to help your husband ‘cool off after work’

who knows.. maybe this will become a little routine you guys have

a/n : can you tell i like sub nanami.. ermm ; got lazy at the end loll likes & reblogs appreciated <3 kisses from c4toru !!

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ yeah, yeah, pornstar!gojo, and all... but what about pornstar!reader, and fan!gojo?

gojo is obsessed with everything you put out there. notifications blare, ensuring he is the first to see every post. his phone is always glued to his hand, your channel is his goddamn religion.

he ditches anyone, ducks into bathrooms, alleys, wherever to catch a glimpse of that sweet pussy. he even contemplates risking getting caught jerking off on a public tram, his strained pants a testament to his desperation. a crowded tram, mind you. he doesn't even care.

and, that michelin-star dinner? kicked out. again. because he can’t keep his hands off his phone, and his volume down. the head waiter gives him a look that could kill, and gojo just shrugs, already halfway through his next video.

he really is your biggest hype-man, and also your richest one. his tips? a goddamn tidal wave in the chat. every moan you make, every twitch of your hips, fuels his own private show. and, well, you've got to make it up to him somehow, right?

in return, you let him control your toys. you take it so well, he thinks, the highest setting of your lovense. that remote control? a shitty substitute for his own hands, really.

if a vibrator does this to you… he strokes himself, mimicking your rhythm, a frustrated, aching pulse, the image of your slick heat filling his mind. he wants to feel it, wants to hear you scream his name. you're gripping the sheets of the bed, head thrown back.

if just a little vibrator is doing this to you, he can't imagine how you'd react to his cock.

gojo's hand slides up and down his hard length, throbbing with arousal as he watches you moan.

"oh, fuck," you cry, "i— i'm gonna cum!" and, cum you do, as your hips buck, body tensing, and fluttering hole gushes liquid. he times his own release just seconds after, and it feels like the closest he'll ever get to you.

you've wrecked him, completely. he can't even have a girlfriend anymore, because he's always groaning your name during sex with them. it's the only way he can get off, now.

pictures and videos, that is. exclusive content, little bits and pieces of you — anything he can get, he'll have. you're the only thing he thinks about, you've turned him into a porn addict.

sleep is a war zone, gojo's brain replaying your every move until he is jerking off into his own hand, the sheets sticky and smelling faintly of his seed.

he fantasizes, raw and dirty, about burying his face between your legs, about the slick heat of your cunt, about the way you’d scream when he finally comes.

he wants to fill you, wants to hear you beg. gojo lies awake at night, his mind a whirlwind of your images, replaying old videos, memorizing every curve, every sound.

(and yeah, he has a fan account. pathetic? maybe. but he doesn't give a fuck. he has to spread the word, has to make sure everyone knows just how amazing you are. plus, he likes reading the comments. it makes him feel proud of you.)

gojo strokes his leaky dick at night, submitting into his fantasies of shoving your head into a pillow and dragging his sensitive tip across your slit, getting to release his load into your soaked walls.

but, at some point, god must finally be on his side, because ten minutes after your latest livestream, he is met with a dm from you — "how would u like to 2 mess with those controls in person <33"

after all those enormous tips he's sent your way, isn't it time for you to give him something extra?

[ickyuji]

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 yuji using both hands to fuck himself after you send him what most would consider a casual selfie.

unabashed, head tilting back into his bed- hips canting up and up off the bed over and over the second palms of his hands meet the coarse pink hair dusting his pelvis. tilting his head to catch a glance of your pretty face. lips pouting, something you have a tendency to do in your pictures because you think it looks cute, and god- he prays every day you never stop doing it.

cock so hard it hurts, slipping the angry and red, mean head through calloused palms. wondering if your pretty, manicured fingers would feel better than the burn he feels now.

coughing out sounds of moans trapped in his throat, shaped like your name- hoping his roommates are out for the night. not having the foresight to check before opening your messages and reading over the; which one looks better? :3

text from you, a part of him begging you're sending him such cute images on purpose. at least then, it'd give him an excuse to fuck himself silly over your face- letting out an exasperated keen the second another one comes through.

this one, this one framing your face so pretty- eyes darting down to the fact that it looks like you're topless. a sliver of soft skin like a blessing, dropping one hand off his cock to bring his phone in closer.

panting exceeding their normal, lust driven tempo to groan out noises that sound like 'fuck, fuck, fuck' before he's done for.

his movements sluggish while he poses his phone downwards, just shy of kissing his leaky length. the juxtaposition of your face pouting at him through a illuminated screen and his viscous hand working over his cock just too good.

stomach tensing taught until he's spent- the first rivulet of cum landing right over your image. not daring to see where the rest lands because he's bucked his hips off the bed, squeezing his eyes tight and imprinting your face to the back of his eyelids while he cums over and over.

heart stilling to its normal pace after moments of clarity. dropping his phone off to the side and running a fist over his sweaty, blush hair.

having half the mind to wipe his phone off with his shirt- cringing over that decision later and sending you a message letting you know the last one is his favorite.

heart leaping out of his chest when you call him- happily blabbering about how happy you are he's picked that one. all the while his mind wanders off and wonders if you can hear the slick sounds of his shaky hand palming over his cock through the receiver.

[kylecrusoe-captions]

TALES FROM THE LEAKY COCK INN #1

The human Mage seduces the Orc Paladin.

(This one's a bit different than my usual stuff, hope you all like it! Inspired by a story I read on GSS but couldn't find again)

The Leaky Cock Inn was a riot of noise and bodies that night, its warped timbers groaning under the strain of a packed house. Tankards slammed together, voices overlapped in a drunken din, and the air hung thick with the stench of ale and travelers packed tight. Torin, a young human mage with a tousled mane of chestnut curls and a wiry frame built for spellbooks rather than swords, shouldered his way to the bar. His robes bore scorch marks from a botched fireball earlier, and fatigue dragged at his limbs. He tossed a scant handful of coppers onto the counter, meeting the innkeeper’s stare. “A room. Whatever’s left.”

The innkeeper, a barrel-chested man with a nose like a squashed root, grunted and fished out a key. “Last spot’s the only one open, boy. You’re bunking with an orc—big holy type from the looks of him. No whining about it.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial rasp. “Watch yourself, though. Orcs what ain’t washed in a while? They’ve got a musk—pheromones, they say. Hits humans hard. Turns proud lads into drooling fools, begging for a taste. You sure you can handle that?”

Torin’s mouth quirked into a sly grin. He’d spotted the orc when he entered, the paladin heading upstairs—massive, green-skinned, radiating a mix of piety and raw power—and felt a tug of attraction even then. “I’ve sniffed worse than an orc in my time,” he said, voice light despite the quickening of his pulse. “I’ll risk it.” The innkeeper shrugged, sliding the key across. “Suit yourself, mage. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Up the creaking stairs, Torin pushed into a cramped room, barely wide enough for its straw mattress and splintered table. Sir Vrothgar, an orc paladin, knelt in the corner, his deep voice rolling through a prayer like thunder over plains. His armor, etched with sacred runes, glinted faintly, and his forest-green skin shimmered with sweat. Standing nearly seven feet, he loomed over Torin, his black mane tied back, tusks catching the flicker of the room's lone lantern. He rose as the mage entered, offering a polite nod.

“Greetings, human mage,” Vrothgar said, his tone warm but edged with formality. He scratched at his neck, where sweat had soaked his undershirt’s collar. “I am Sir Vrothgar. The inn’s packed, so we’re stuck together. A warning, though—I’ve been on the march for weeks. No bath. My kind… we’ve got a scent. Potent stuff. Might trouble you. I’ll try to keep clear.” His yellow eyes darted aside, a rare unease softening his stern features.

Torin dropped his satchel, his gaze lingering on Vrothgar’s broad frame—the way his armor clung to muscle, the quiet strength in his stance. He’d felt a spark downstairs, and the warning only stoked it. “I'm Torin. Not too concerned,” he said, leaning against the table with feigned nonchalance. “I’m a mage—I’ve smelled fouler than any sweat in an alchemy lab. I’ll manage.” He flashed a teasing smile, though his heart thudded at the possibilities.

Night draped the inn, the clamor below dulling to a low buzz. Vrothgar began shedding his armor, his movements slow and deliberate, a ritual. The pauldrons were gently placed on the floor, then the breastplate, and lastly the under layer, revealing a chest thick with dark hair and corded muscle. He stretched, rolling his shoulders, and the air thickened—a raw, earthy musk unfurled, unfiltered from his exposed and hairy armpits. As he peeled off his greaves, the full brunt of his pheromones struck: a heady wave from his damp, matted armpits and a deeper, richer scent seeping from his groin, still encased in tight breeches. Torin’s breath snagged, his knees trembling as the aroma sank into him, primal and intoxicating.

His mind swam, desire flaring like a wildfire. He’d found Vrothgar striking before, but now his lust was urgent—his skin prickled, his fingers twitched, and a heat surged through him. “Gods below,” he muttered, stepping closer, robes swishing. “That’s… quite a presence.” His voice dipped, playful but laced with hunger. He edged nearer, testing the waters. “You’re a walking spellbook, Sir Vrothgar.”

The orc stiffened, gauntlets clutched in his hands, his brow creasing. “I warned you,” he said, guilt roughening his tone. “It’s not fair, my pheromones clouding you like this. My order demands control, demands I not take advantage. I shouldn’t let this happen.” He stepped back, pressing himself against the wall, as if distance could shield them both.

Torin wasn’t deterred. He sidled closer, his slim frame dwarfed by Vrothgar’s bulk, and let his voice drop to a coaxing murmur. "Control’s dull,” he said, brushing a finger along the orc’s arm, stopping just shy of that musky pit. “As a mage I've studied compulsion—I’d know if this was all you. It’s just… an invitation.” He tilted his head, locks falling into his eyes, and gave a sly wink. “I was eyeing you downstairs anyway.”

Vrothgar’s jaw tightened, his honor a fortress under siege. “You don’t understand,” he rumbled. “My vows—I swore to my god. This… this is a test I can’t fail.” His fists clenched, but his eyes betrayed him, flickering over Torin’s form.

The mage pressed his advantage, stepping so close his chest grazed Vrothgar’s thigh. “A test?” he purred, voice honeyed. “Then let me be the examiner.” He reached up, bold now, and traced the edge of Vrothgar’s breeches, tugging it slightly to expose more of that sweat-slick skin. “You’re not forcing me. I’m choosing this.” He leaned in, nose brushing the orc’s armpit, and inhaled deeply, shuddering as the pheromones hit harder. “Let me choose you.”

Vrothgar groaned, a low, tortured sound, his resolve cracking. “You’re mad, little mage,” he said, but he didn’t pull away. Torin seized the moment, slipping his hands over the orc’s torso, fingers dancing over hard muscle. “Mad’s my specialty,” he teased. The scent was potent this close to the orc's groin, and Torin’s knees nearly buckled, but he pushed forward, pressing his lips to the orc’s chest, tasting salt and musk.

“Please,” Torin whispered, voice raw now, shedding his robe to stand bare, his pale skin aglow in the lantern’s flicker. His arousal was plain, his body trembling with want. “Take me. Your god won’t mind a willing offering.” He sank to his knees, hands sliding up Vrothgar’s thighs, tugging at the breeche's laces.

That broke the dam. Vrothgar’s growl was feral, his honor drowned by need. He hauled Torin up—one massive hand under the mage’s tight ass, the other gripping his waist—and slammed him against the wall. Torin gasped, legs wrapping around Vrothgar’s hips, as the orc’s trousers fell. The full force of his groin’s musk crashed over them, and Torin’s hands clawed at green shoulders, pulling him in. Their mouths collided, fierce and sloppy, Vrothgar’s tusks scraping Torin’s face as his tongue claimed him. Torin moaned, grinding against him, the pheromones turning every touch molten.

The bed creaked as Vrothgar hurled Torin onto it, the mage sprawling eagerly. The orc loomed, stripping bare—his thick, veined length jutting free, dripping with sweat and heady scent. Torin reached for it, stroking, tasting, then dragged Vrothgar down with desperate pleas and a whispered incantation of a modified Grease spell to lubricate himself. The paladin sank onto him, slow at first, clinging to some shred of restraint, but Torin’s writhing—his slim body arching, his cries sharp—shattered it. Vrothgar thrust hard, the room shaking, Torin’s nails raking green flesh as pheromones consumed them.

Sweat and gasps filled the air. Vrothgar pinned Torin, taking him again, then flipped him to let the mage ride, hands gripping pale thighs. Torin bucked, orgasming without touching his rock hard cock. Vrothgar roared and released his potent seed into the human mage, its volume overflowing from Torin's ass. They collapsed, breathless and entwined. Dawn bled through the shutters, gilding their tangled forms. Torin traced lazy lines on Vrothgar’s chest, still buzzing from the scent. “You know, I'm looking to join a party,” he murmured, eyeing the massive orc hopefully. Vrothgar rumbled a laugh. “Aye, mage. But you’re bathing me first.” Torin grinned, plotting his escape from that task already.

-------------

Hey all! Hope this was enjoyable. It was definitely a really self indulgent project. I know I usually focus on TF stuff but I hope the pheromones were close enough to mind control to still fit my niche. I hope to do more fantasy themed stories with this Tales from the Leaky Cock series, and with abundant magic in this generic-dnd-but-erotic fantasy setting there's sure to be some good transformations in the future. (Also, if anyone wants to write their own Tale from the Leaky Cock, I'd love that!)

[dalazzx]

i loove ur puppy!satoru and bunny!reader ⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾ mor plz hehe

Warnings: PuppyHybrid!Satoru x fembunnyhybrid!reader, smut, dubcon, licking, mentions of Suguru (he’s a perv), jerking off, exhibtionism. I hope you like this!!! Enjoy!!

Toru absolutely has no sense of when things should be done and when they shouldn’t be done, he’s completely fine with having a full on make-out session with you right as Suguru is clicking away at the channels a few inches away from you to. you hate public displays of affection so you’re always whining and pawing to get away from him. He really won’t have any of it, he’s trying his hardest to suck on your tongue or trying to slip his hands under your shirt. 

Suguru really seems to not care in the least bit, he’ll intervene to tell Satoru to calm down but apart from that he doesn’t mind the small moans that make your way up your throat.

Nor does he bat an eye when Satoru is blatantly tugging down his sweats to free his already leaky cocklet, he has no shame with the way he’s rubbing your pussy through your underwear, and when Satoru places you on his lap, quickly shutting you up with a small warning growl, he still isn’t turning his head.

Satoru slips his needy cock right into you with no problem, you were already wet enough just from the kissing. He’s filiting himself right into your gummy walls and fucking up into you. Satoru is a loud moaner, he practically howls as he milks himself with your pussy over and over. His bunny feels so damn good how could he not ruin you over and over?

You and Satoru don’t see it but Suguru is totally looking: but not making it obvious and even if he did you two still wouldn’t notice in your state right now. He’s staring at where you and Satoru connect, creating that nasty milky ring that dribbles down Satoru’s thighs. Suguru starts rubbing at his thigh, trying to zone out as to not seem like a pervert, but aren’t you two the perverts here?

Without regard for privacy anymore, Suguru rubs his cock through his pants, squeezing his tip in tune with the way Satoru makes you bounce agaisnt his dick.

And it’s not long before he just rips his dick out from its confines and jerks off, rubbing the precum from his tip all the way to his heavy balls, Satoru lifts your legs and he gets to have a better angle at your soft pillowy cunt, you’re so damn wet, glistening in the warm light and oh so beautiful!

[emergencyplumbingil]

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[buckyalpine]

18+ Minors dni. Buckys innocent neighbor who bakes him cookies and muffins just cause. The girl next door who has the coziest apartment he's ever been in. Shelves filled with books along with plenty of comfy blankets decorating the couches. Bucky has his own place right across but home is with her (even if she doesn't know it yet).

She's the type of girl he's going to take his time with, asking her out on a date, just coffee and a walk in the park. Nothing more than a kiss on her cheek at the end of the night. Another date. Dinner. Another kiss to her other cheek. He wouldn't dare rush anything, especially not someone as soft and sweet as her.

He feels like such a dirty little pervert when he thinks about her afterwards when he's alone in bed, all the blood in his body rushing south, and fuck he's so hard. He tries to ignore it, he didn't want to do something so debauched by thinking of her like that, he even tries to think about his grocery list, laundry, he'd probably wash his arm later, it would probably be fine in the dishwasher-

Nothing worked.

He groans, shuffling and kicking his sweats off, hissing when his hand goes down to tug at his aching cock, relief flooding his veins at the sensation. He lets his mind wander to how adorable she'd be, the way he'd take her apart in the most gentle way. Lay her against the pillows while he holds those soft thighs apart, giving her the most feather light suckles on that perfect clit, basking in all the sounds she'd make. He strokes himself faster thinking about the way he'd get her ready to take all of him. How he'd make it so good for her-shit he was going to blow-maybe if he was lucky, one day she'd let him put his cock in her mou-

"Fuck!!" Bucky threw his head back, spurts of cum shooting from his sensitive head, his post orgasm haze leaving him feeling like a filthy old man. She were here making him baked treats and he was jerking his dick off like a sick fuck.

Then the night finally comes. Bucky is ready to cuddle and nothing else but he's thrown off because never in his wildest fantasies did he expect this.

She is the girl who sends him reeling the first time he takes her clothes off one by one revealing dark ink on her back and hips. He has to suppress a growl, his eyes growing wide at the scantily clad lace that covers her body.

"Like what you see, Sergeant?" she practically purrs in his ear while he lets his han ghost over her bare skin, his chest heaving when his eyes fall to her perfect breasts, hints of silver peeking from under her lingerie, there was no way-

"Can I?" He asks breathlessly, his hand reaching behind to unclasp the bra, those pretty pierced nipples begging to be sucked.

Bucky who turns into a fucking menace, his entire world flipping upside down when she grinds down on his crotch not hiding exactly what she needs from him. He doesn't even have the ability to hide how feral he is, letting all his inhibitions slip.

-

"My little bunny's a slut, fuck, c'mere" He grabs you and tosses you over his shoulder, hauling you over to his bedroom like an untamed beast, tossing you onto his bed with no remorse. You're in nothing but your panties which he rips right off, your thighs squeezing together at the way he stalks over to you, his hungry eyes raking up and down your body without an ounce of shame. He tugs his sweats down to reveal his leaky cock, stroking it at the edge of his bed after tossing his shirt off.

"See this baby? Been fuckin' stroking and touching myself like a fuckin' teenager because of you-" He throws off his pants before climbing onto the bed and kneeling between your thighs, spreading them apart with his knees, "-and you've been here lookin' like God damn sin under those cute little sweaters"

He flicks his cockhead against your clit, humming at the clear beads of his arousal that drip onto your cunt.

"Fuck James, need more, pl-"

"Nuh uh, what was that you called me earlier, sweets?" He lets out a dark chuckle, the veins in his cock throbbing as he tightly holds the base, waiting to hear it again.

"Sergeant" you whine with mischief in your eyes and Bucky is a goner. He'll taste you later and most definitely feed you his cock another day but right now he wants to be nowhere else other than your pussy. He wants to watch you take every bit of him, rolling over to lay on his back while you straddle him, his length slotted against your cunt. He holds it up for you with a cocky look on his face, moaning when his tip breeches your tight pussy, your walls gripping his swollen, pink head.

"That's just the tip baby, c'mon, sit on it, wanna put all of my dick in you, that's it, good girl-shittt"

"Oh fuccckk,s'big" You moan feeling the stretch as you sink all the way down, panting and staying still while you adjust to his size.

"That's it bunny, that's it, ride me, ride your Sergeant" He grabs you by the hips, guiding you to grind down on him, making you feel his entire cock in your stomach. "You're a slut for big dick aren't you baby, acting all cute and shy when all you really wanted was the winter soldier's cock"

Bucky wasn't even sure where all the filth spewing from his mouth was even coming from but he couldn't stop.

"S'that it bunny? Say it baby, tell me how much you wanted my fat cock in you"

"Wanted it! F-cuk Sergeant, wanted your cock s-o-so bad!!"

"Fuck yes!!" His feet plant to meet your bounces, his hips thrusting up, slamming his entire length into you. "M'close, fuck bunny, gonna cum already, I can't hold it-

He doesn't have time to be embarrassed. You feel to good. He rubs your clit needing you to cum all over him so he can let go.

"Please, cum all over Sergeants cock baby, give it to me, be a good girl n'cum, c'mon, cum on my dick, yes, oh fuck yes I can feel it-milk it, shit touch my balls-"

You nearly collapse as your orgasm starts to wash over you, his sponge head hitting the most sensitive parts against your walls while he toys with your clit. His voice is muffled as you start to feel waves of pleasure consume you but you head just enough to reach behind, rubbing his heavy, so full of cum ba-

"FUUUCCCCKKK" He grabs you and wraps his arms around your body while he relentlessly thrusts up, biting down on your shoulder while he lets out the sluttiest, loudest moan with 0 remorse. It feels too good and he's sure the neighbors can hear but honestly, everyone should know how amazing it feels.

-

"I got you pretty baby" Bucky coos as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, a shiver running through you while you float in bliss. Bucky pulls the covers up, deciding to cuddle up with you for a bit before running a shower, his previous demeanor replaced with the far less debauched version of him.

Anyway, just an idea. Also, it's past my bedtime.