biasenn

[biasenn]

pipe indo comprar coca depois de ter largado tudo pra vim morar comigo:

[biasenn]

details by Roberto Ferri

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[biasenn]

o dia que alguém apreender essa camera que ele tira foto dos outros sem consentimento vai ser icônico

[biasenn]

life sucks and then you find out you want to fuck another blond man from the 80s/90s

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Abrís un diccionario, buscás la definición de "whore" y esta es la foto que acompaña el texto.

[biasenn]

Arms - that's the whole post.

Again inspired by @sihtricfedaraaahvicius and their wonderfully curated posts.

[biasenn]

Bigger in Texas

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel won’t fit.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Size kink (seriously, don’t read if you hate big dicks / disgusting descriptions) Penis and pussy pronouns. Virginity loss. Age gap. Praise kink. Daddy kink. Joel ‘hung like a fucking horse’ Miller is a soft dom and also a good teacher. Competence kink (?)

Note: Somebody made a fic challenge to use penis pronouns, and I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. If y’all find them please show them this and tell them I love their brain 🫠

This wasn’t the life Joel Miller had pictured for himself.

The dead coming back to roam the world and eradicate most of its population, for one. The cold. Finding his baby brother way out here in Wyoming with a wife and a child on the way. The looks he was getting these days. It’s not like he’d asked to get mixed up with a girl your age. It just happened. And since damn near every-fucking-thing that had “happened” to him since outbreak day fifteen years back had been bottom of the barrel, full-blown nightmare territory, the second he saw a good thing fumble across his path, he’d seized it—you.

You, who were young enough to be his daughter.

You, who’d never seen a man fully before meeting him.

You, who hadn’t squeezed so much as a finger in herself.

But much like his past, Joel Miller was a sordid and sick sort of man, and he had the cock to prove it: presently weeping precum at the site of your softest, tightest hole, smearing the pearly-white slick through your folds with a sound so sweet it was nauseating. Begging for entrance.

“Oughta have a boy your age pop your cherry, kid.”

It was simple.

“Ain’t right havin’ a man my age all in yours guts.”

And true.

The head of his cock made another wet, sickening noise through your folds, and as though instigated by the sound, your eyes flitted to the source. You smiled.

“Probably. But I want you,” you answered. Soft.

Joel got harder, and he hadn’t thought that was possible. His gaze joined yours, and the sight nearly finished him.

Beneath him, your legs had spread wider, showcasing that perfectly glistening seam alongside the head of his cock. He looked huge. Or you looked small. Or perhaps it was both, and he was old, and he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, but then his hips stuttered a bit and his length pushed in. Joel hissed and seized the headboard.

It wouldn’t even go in. The tip just stretched the rim.

“Baby, fuck—” Joel whimpered.

“He’s so big.”

Three little words from your lips, and it almost did him in.

Again.

You wriggled your hips and flashed another happy grin.

“He wants in, daddy. I can feel him pulsin’ like I am.”

You volleyed a look up to Joel and as if to say, ‘That means we’re ready, right? Will you let me have him?’

And, strangled by guilt as he was, Joel couldn’t resist.

He let his big, bulbous, leaking head sink in the tiniest bit, and he let out a groan. Your walls were so tight. This was him, too—his tip was oversized, just like the rest of him—and when it notched in an inch, Joel could see the pain flash quick in your eyes. His hips moved to retreat.

But then your heels were lifting and digging in his ass, and though strained, your voice made it out, weakly:

“Don’t, daddy. I want him.”

Joel couldn’t dream of refusing.

And his vision blurred more at that word, him.

“I-I know. He wants you too, baby—”

Another quarter-inch.

“—so, so bad.”

“Daddy!”

Joel had to blink to try and wake from his daze. His tip was so warm, hugged so perfect and snug and wet, that he didn’t even realize that was all that fit. He was stuck.

You whimpered again.

“‘S’too big, daddy. Just make him go in.”

Your eyes rolled with indignation and overwhelming pleasure alike, and your hips squirmed again. This time, you tried to nudge him in deeper, but your body simply wouldn’t budge; you’d reached the widest part of him.

“Honey, it’s—”

“Hurtin’! I need you inside me.” you cried, impatient.

“Just takes a little time to get there, darlin’—”

“Well, get to it, then. A tip ain’t enough.”

Joel’s face flushed. He might’ve been forced to bite back a laugh under any other circumstances, but this was your virginity. His bed. Your naked bodies, together, tonight.

He wasn’t going to rush this now and fuck it all up.

“This tip’s about to paint your pretty insides white and make you wait til next week to try again if you keep it up.”

That made you go still.

You shook your head while Joel released the headboard from his grip and took your hip in it instead. He grunted.

“Sweet pea, you gotta see—” he resumed, voice low, “—it won’t feel good for you or me if I just…push right in.”

You sighed, feeling his hold tighten.

“Tongue and fingers only do so much. You gotta learn.”

You whined, digging your feet in deeper when his tip drew back to your entrance. Looking a bit squeamish.

“Be brave…and patient for me.”

From the look in your eyes, Joel could tell you probably hated him right now. That was just fine. He adjusted his hips to a more comfortable place, and then he pinched your hip bone. He nudged you back, and he let you wait.

Then, right when you opened your mouth, he sank in.

Joel thrusted with only his tip, the size of a small lime, and he fucked your hole gently. Back and forth. Shallow.

It did enough. You squeezed both his forearms.

“Oh, daddy.” Your bottom lip trembled as you said it.

With his free hand, Joel smoothed your hair back.

“Yeah, what is it, baby?” he murmured, dulcet as ever, “Thought you said the tip ain’t enough for you, sugar.”

His words came slow. His strokes were delivered quick, though tenderly. Your brain appeared to be in a fog, or a trance, as your chin dipped down toward your chest, and you watched him breach the first inch of you repeatedly.

“Curious little thing.” Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle now.

“He’s so…” you trailed off.

You squeezed his arms, and he squeezed your hip back. He let you watch him fuck you with only his tip, and when your head began to tilt back from the strain, he reached up with his other hand and held the back of your neck. He felt you clench at that, and you both groaned.

“So…big,” you finished, eyes glazed.

“I know.”

This went on for the longest time: Joel stretching the first precious inch of your pussy with the head of himself, you watching and breathing deeply, whimpering occasionally, and him holding at the nape of your neck like a softer touch might lose you to him forever. Was this teaching? When you clenched again, he reckoned it was.

“That’s it, honey. Watch her swallow me.”

“Stretches real pretty for the tip, doesn’t she?”

“Bet she can’t even fit another inch of this cock.”

Suddenly, your head was jerking up under his hold.

Eyes flaring with a hot, juvenile kind of anger: “I can!”

Joel clicked his tongue against the backs of his teeth and pretended not to hear. He also had to feign indifference when your walls tightened and all but choked his head and a wave of new pleasure surged up through his body.

“She can, Joel, I’m serious!”

Another two seconds of this and Joel sensed he might see tears. Though his gaze had trailed up to yours, and the look in his appeared stern, deep down, he was just as quick to want to cave. He just hid it better than you did.

“You think so, sweet pea?”

“I know so. I need it.”

“Need him?”

“Y-Yes.”

How sweet you seemed. How naive you must be.

Joel might’ve been mean, but he wasn’t cruel. He also liked teaching lessons as much as he enjoyed showing you the way, so in the next second, he obliged. He took the last shallow thrust of his tip and sank into your cunt.

As he filled you, you whined. It only took an inch or two.

“Da-a-ddy. Please.”

You must’ve been begging for lenience. Joel retreated.

Then, much to the man’s surprise, you kicked your feet. Not in relief but in protest, shaking your head up at him:

“Put him back. Please. D-Deeper.”

It was as though Joel’s brain had exited through the back of his head and all rational thought escaped him, for the moment. The only voice he heard was yours. It was pleading. And in between your legs, you were soaked.

So drenched to allow him another inch. Then another. Then another. Joel fucked in gently and felt a seismic wave of pleasure seize his limbs—and likely yours, as well. It was as though in two blinks, you’d forgotten the pain altogether. You were suffused with need instead, eyes wincing and lips curling and sounds leaving your throat like an animal in heat. Want him deeper, please.

Joel sawed back and forth with just those four or so inches and made you writhe underneath him. Felt you clamp down on his thick, slippery cock and heard the remnants of your shared arousal making sounds as your body accepted him. Stretching wider. Getting wetter. Bringing him closer to the edge with every breath.

“She’s doin’…so good f’me,” Joel told you, brainless.

His thumb drifted to your clit. He rubbed it gently. No sooner had he finished the first circle around that nub when your hips were stirring again—this time incensed.

“Daddy.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Joel kissed the top of your head, thumb insistent. When his eyes met yours, he was surprised to find them wet this time. Tears pooling and streaking down to your temples while your body bounced gently beneath his thrusts. A whimper trembled out, and Joel slowed.

He could tell from that look you didn’t want him to stop, though. It just felt so good. So, instead of dropping his pace too much, Joel cupped your chin in one hand, and with the other, he kept thumbing at your clit. Humming.

“Poor thing’s never had something this big in ‘er, huh?”

You shook your head. Cried a little more.

Joel kissed the tears on one side, lips smiling as he did.

“I can tell, baby. But she’s taking it so well.”

“Y-Yeah?”

His hips sped up a little. The thrusts were still shallower than they normally would be, given your state, but they were seemed to be working well enough. You winced.

Joel kissed the other side of your face to take more tears.

“Uh-huh,” he answered, “Openin’ up real nice for daddy.”

It was like his words worked as well as his thumb on your clit. You whimpered again, lips parting a little wider now, and the sound that came out was as desperate and feverish and fuck-drunk as Joel had ever heard it.

“S-Say it again,” you pleaded.

“Say what?”

“That he’s…stretchin’ me open. Makin’ me his.”

The soft, slick resonance between your body and his seemed to amplify even more—you were getting wetter, and Joel’s thrusts all but shook the bed with their force.

His eyes darkened when he felt you tighten again.

“Yeah? You like hearin’ all the filthy fuckin’ things your daddy’s doing? The way he’s breakin’ you in for him?”

You nodded. Your throat constricted with a moan.

And, just when a fresh set of tears seemed to be close on the horizon, Joel lowered himself to you. He held you to his chest, hips working relentlessly, and he watched your face screw up in pleasure. A trace of pain flared again, but it was soothed with a kiss. Joel grinned against you.

Between your thighs, his cock was throbbing with a feeling just as big. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Hurting and aching and needing as you were, he had to make sure that you would cum first.

When his cock grazed a fleshy, sensitive patch inside your walls, he knew it wouldn’t take much. He went on:

“C’mon, sugar. Daddy’s split you open on his cock so nice, least you can do is cum for him. Can you do that?”

His nose brushed yours. His thrusts sped up. You nodded, quickly, and when he shifted in the bed with his thumb still on your clit and his lips and his stubble grazing your mouth with every push of himself, he felt it.

It was a small pulse, at first.

Joel thought you might be adjusting��clenching—again, when the lips that were trembling against his parted more. Your arms wound around his neck, and suddenly the throb of your walls around his member got tighter and tighter and tighter. One more second and your cunt might’ve squeezed the hot, sticky seed right out of his body and flooded your insides with it, but then came release. The ‘o’ of your mouth let out a shriek, at last, and your body went soft around him, beneath him, whining in turn, ‘Daddy, daddy, please’ while the muscles once taut and unflinching gave him reprieve. Fluttering repeatedly.

Joel fucked you through it. He talked you through it.

He stroked your hair, and he held you tight. Called you his sweetheart, pretty thing, perfect girl, you’re doin’ so good f’me. Keep going. That’s right, cum all over daddy. He told you to take what you needed, and without another word, he felt just that. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you consumed every inch he gave and drank every drop of spend shooting out in thick spurts.

You fell boneless on the bed when all was said and done.

You looked happy, and that made Joel even happier.

He stroked your cheek, and you leaned into it, clearly drained while your gaze held his in a weak sort of look.

It was soft. Loving, even. It could’ve been romantic.

Then Joel’s hand slipped down to the nape of your neck again. Your muscles were limp, like all the rest of you, but somehow, he was able to hold you up. Tilt your chin a bit.

Make you peer down between your shaking legs, where his cock was still sheathed inside you—partly, anyway.

Your eyes widened. Joel grinned.

“You did good, baby. Ready for the other half of him?”

[biasenn]

eu i ele! 😭❤️

eu e felipe otaño

[biasenn]

Todo mundo fica falando do Santo, Santo pra lá! Santo pra cá! Rodrigo Santorio … Blábláblá! Mas gente… o grande GOSTOSO de Hilda Furacão foi o Roberto! Um grande GOSTOSO e COMUNISTA !

Eu tenho uma queda por intelectuais que tratam mulheres como damas, mesmo que seja casual a relação (esse é o mínimo ).

[biasenn]

DADDY — FATHER C. MAYHEW

synopsis: you’re sinless; sent to father charlie mayhew to study beneath him.

cw: NSFW-MDNI HEAVY corruption, blasphemy, inaccurate religious practices, daddy kink, fingering, mentions of age gap (reader is 18), misogyny, mentions of abuse, power dynamics, sorry this is super long :c

it had been four days since you’d last seen home. at this point, you are still counting the days away from it. you weren’t necessarily complaining, though. according to your father, it was the path god wanted you to take. as such, you had his full guidance and protection.

you were to study beneath father charlie mayhew. it was an honor to you and your family; poor, religious commune natives. aside from it being one less mouth to feed — a woman, no less — it was also the biggest opportunity you would ever get to learn about god in a prestigious manner. college was out of the question.

father mayhew was waiting for you at the airport. you weren’t certain why, but you didn’t expect to meet him immediately. you guessed a man like him would just send a car, but alas. he was tall and exceedingly handsome. handsome enough that it made you blush upon making eye contact with him. you decided that your reaction was fine because you could still focus properly in the meantime.

the first few minutes of the car ride were awkwardly silent, passing by painfully slowly whilst father mayhew exited the airport parking deck. by the time you were able to leave, fathew mayhew finally spoke first, “i know so little about you. please,” he insists, glancing over at you with a soft grin, “tell me about you.”

so you did. you felt embarrassed, going on a tangent to include the poverty, religious society, any education you were ever blessed with came directly from the church; your father called it god’s mouth. normally, your explanation as to your backstory ellicits a distasteful response. you’ve heard of abuse and misogyny from hateful people, often accompanied by a wince or shutter. but not from father mayhew, who nodded and listened intently without any god-straying comments in mind. it made you feel at ease.

“you consider yourself to be close with god?” he asks after you finish telling him about your desire to learn. you nodded hesitantly, shyly agreeing but still somewhat doubtful in your mind.

“there is still more to learn,” you finally say, your eyes catching onto father mayhew’s hands as they grip the steering wheel, thankful that your with someone capable of teaching you.

“of course,” he agrees, “but not tonight, i’m afraid. you must be wide awake.”

he was correct. you were extremely jet lagged from traveling across the country, and you had not eaten since the detroit airport the day prior. your nerves were shot for a majority of the trip, allowing you to go long hours without sleep and practically forgetting to eat until you’re on another plane with an hour until touchdown. currently, it was nearing ten p.m.. you nodded, agreeing and he smiled again.

finally getting to his home, there was little discomfort by this time. you felt strangely secure in charlie’s presence despite just having met him. unlike men you were accustomed to that often made you feel uncomfortable, father mayhew seemed above that; a god-abiding man full of knowledge he wants to relay. you didn’t fear inappropriate comments or impure thoughts with father mayhew.

you follow his lead to the front door, his scent enough to make your knees weak as you remained close. he opens the door, turning to face you better as his left hand moves to the small of your back, inching closely to your ass. he guided you inside, a gentle act of kindness you decided. father mayhew was not your regular guy. he didn’t indulge in temptation, nor was his mind filled to the brim with twisted fantasies.

charlie moved ahead, leading the way towards the dining room, which had an open view to the kitchen area. in a separate room was the couch, it’s room lights turned low until it was nearly pitch black everywhere else except for the kitchen.

father mayhew, despite being an evolved and sophisticated man, still harbored uncertainties. his gaze was dark; nothing like the gaze of your previous pastors or priests. it was a visual that was almost capable of running a shiver down your spine. “i don’t want you to feel as though you’re alone, right now.” he finally says, approaching you closer until he’s able to usher you into the living room after flicking on the lights.

you listen carefully, ensuring you understand what you assume to be ground rules. you expected as such, being a newcomer in someone else’s home often came with strings of some sort. with this, you had no desire to disappoint father mayhew.

“because, you’re not,” he finishes as the two of you sit down. politely, he turns closer to you, able to stare into the depths of your eyes if you let him. “while you learn, it’s my job to learn about you,” he says, his fingertips barely grazing against the hem of your skirt. “so you must tell me if anything makes you feel uncomfortable.”

you nodded simply, though you doubted there was anything father mayhew could do to make you uncomfortable around him.

“i don’t imagine that would be a problem,” your quiet tone announces. father mayhew smiles softly, as though to thank you, and it easily melts the goosebumps of terror down your back. despite carrying an energy that reads him as irritable, he was quite the opposite.

“if this is going to work, you must be comfortable with me. it’s my job to protect you while you’re with me, so i need you capable of telling me what you need, or want.”

you nodded again, gaining the bigger picture that father mayhew would act as a guardian of sorts during your time studying under him. while you never had the privilege to attend college, it was easy to pretend and think of father mayhew as a professor, you his student.

“do you know what you want?” father mayhew’s voice nearly made you tremble, interrupting your inner thoughts as you imagined father mayhew as your professor. certainly, he would be extremely kind as a professor, too.

“to be closer with god,” you reply out of instinct, having only one objective in your mind since you were young. he smiled, and almost laughed but stopped himself.

“no, with your life. certainly, there’s something you’ve wanted,” he says, “you don’t travel all that way for nothing.”

he was correct. thousands of miles later to end up on father mayhew’s couch seemed unlikely. god hasn’t directly spoken to you about this move, but you knew it to be the correct path. aside from getting closer with god, you couldn’t easily recall anything you’d wanted in life that was anything more than replaceable.

well, there was one thing you could think of, but decided against saying it aloud. not only was the prospect of it insulting to your faith, but you seriously doubted it was anything father mayhew wanted to hear.

“is it sin that holds you back?” he asks, his voice softer now as he noted the change in your expression. you’d only just thought of something and are now trying to hide it, he could tell by the shift.

you only nodded. you were a sinner, despite not having the guts to say it aloud.

“tell me your sins,” he encourages, leaning in closer to you but still keeping a comfortable distance. you hesitated, but recalled that father mayhew required you to be completely honest with him.

“it’s lust, father mayhew,” you confessed quickly, feeling a small weight removed from your shoulders and added to you stomach. you were terrified of his possible reactions, certain that he’d ask you to leave mere hours after you just arrived.

“i see,” he says beneath his breath, “it’s a normal vice for some to share. you’re only eighteen; certainly, you’ve never been in an intimate relationship?”

you shook your head, embarrassed. so embarrassed, in fact, that you didn’t notice the difference in father mayhew’s pants as he struggled to keep his erection under control. you felt the burn behind your eyes as tears made their way. you were not expecting such a confession within the first day of meeting him. “i’m not a whore, father mayhew. i can’t stop thinking about it.”

“i know you aren’t,” he quickly replied, his hand gently placing against your cheek as he swiped his thumb along your tear trails. “love keeps no record of wrongdoings. god forgives you; there is no reason other’s can’t.”

you nod weakly, despite your mindset staying the same. you couldn’t forgive yourself for your temptations; you were deadly curious, wanting to know how it felt to be held by a man.

a man like father mayhew. while it felt utterly sinful to think of him in any way other than as your mentor, you couldn’t help but wonder if the touch was at all similar to the feeling you got when father mayhew touched your cheek and rid your tears. you inspected his free hand while he didn’t notice. you saw the veins; felt the calloused padding of his fingertips against your cheek.

“it’s curiousity, isn’t it?” he asked, the faintest of grins on his face as he inspected your flushed face closely, his hand now busy moving hair out of your face. any excuse to touch you a little bit longer.

you nodded, thankful that father mayhew was able to understand your predicament.

“it’s human nature,” he eases, your eyes finally meeting his before he finally moves his hand down, a soft grin present, “you’ve never been kissed before? touched?”

“no, father mayhew, absolutely not,” you assure quickly, shaking your head briefly, “i’m saving myself.”

“for god,” father mayhew finishes with a subtle nod. you debated on correcting him before lightly shaking your head.

“for a man of god,” you correct him awkwardly, “preferably.”

something changes in his expression at your words. perhaps a brow raise or a signature, subtle grin, but he looked at you differently now. it was a good different, certainly, but still new and strange.

you felt ashamed; confessing to your mentor, a priest, of your worldly desires. you had no interest in the tangible — money, cars, properties — but instead, the intimate love of a man. you could feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment once more, this time a fire that seemed to light all over your body.

still, father mayhew remained quiet, his hand now resting extremely close to your thigh. he seemed lost within you, simply watching you with a somewhat amused expression. for a brief few moments, you assumed father mayhew would assure you that your sins were capable of being forgiven, or that perhaps there were methods to avoid temptation.

but he never did; the empty air filling the house quickly until the only thing you can hear is your heart thudding beneath your flesh.

“how did you avoid temptation, father?” you finally asked, your voice small, terrified that you may disturb some form of peace he had found. still, his expression didn’t change. if anything, he seemed lighter.

“it’s not without difficulty, of course,” he assures. he seemed nervous, now. his eyes couldn’t hold your gaze for very long anymore, “i’ve come to accept certain things, one of those being that i’m a man with needs, much like every other man. the initial task of maintaining celibacy was for eve and adam. while we want more people to join the church, we must also accept that temptation will follow. the advancement of the human race relies on men like me, and women like you, after all.”

men like him and women like you. his words replay in your head approximately twenty times and you still were unsure if you’d heard them correctly.

silence lingers between you. your mind felt fuzzy for nearly five minutes, processing father mayhew’s words carefully. you were certain you’d heard him correctly. you were certain you’d understood him perfectly.

you looked at him again. he seemed closer now, glancing down at your lips when you nervously bit the bottom one. you studied him entirely; your initial impression that he was handsome still standing strong. even now, he was capable of making you feel secure, despite the uncertainty lurking. “our god sees all. he knows your true desires, even if you can’t admit to them. what you’re experiencing isn’t sin, but a test; i can help you understand it better.”

his voice was so quiet you’d hardly heard him speak, capable of brushing it off entirely if it weren’t for his hands. one rested on the meat of your thigh, his fingers dipping ever so slightly beneath your skirt.

your breath caught in your throat, vividly memorizing the warmth that spread throughout your body, and how warm father mayhew was.

“would you like to know a man’s touch?”

you feverishly nodded, feeling his warm breath dance across your neck as you were thrown in a daze. his touch felt so pleasurable already; you could only imagine if he were to continue. besides, father mayhew was a man of god — likely the closest man to god for many, many miles.

if father mayhew partook, there was no possibility it could stray you from the lord. he was gentle, using his free hand to grab onto your waist, pulling your body onto his lap with ease, his fingertips never leaving your thighs for too long.

“have you ever touched yourself?” he asked, his tone low and raspy as his lips lazily dragged along your clothed breast, making your lips quiver.

“y—yes, father,” you reply shamefully, despite the fact that he now had his hands all over you — his mouth, too.

“did you ask for forgiveness?” he asked quickly, to which you proudly nodded in response. “good girl.”

the sentiment made your core tighten for a brief second. your panties fell damp, feeling pathetic that it merely takes his voice to summon your arousal. it almost made you feel embarrassed when father mayhew’s hand slid beneath your skirt, feeling the wet cloth covering your heat.

instead, he smiled softly, his fingertip swirling around the fabric as you bit down on your lip, unsuccessfully suppressing whines everytime he grazed against one particular spot.

“i want you to feel comfortable with me,” he spoke softly, as though his fingers weren’t actively pulling your white panties aside. your gaze met his again, starstruck by the sincerity of it. you wanted to keep looking at father mayhew while he made you feel good. “i want you to call me daddy, okay? no more ‘father’.”

his fingertips traced down your heat, your mind immediately turning into a pot of sinful thoughts as the dam of temptation shattered. you weren’t certain if the sensation made you want more, or if you were teetering on dangerous territory.

“okay?” he asks again, his voice still soft and quiet, as though he’s speaking to a stranger. you simply nodded; the only gesture you could make without embarrassing yourself further. you were trembling, and there was no doubt he could feel it.

his finger traced down your clit again, hovering over your hole before restarting the process all over again. your breaths were becoming riggid, and something clawed at the back of your throat, desperately attempting to get out. it wasn’t until his fingertips expertly began circling your sensitive nub did you recognize what it was clawing at your throat for release; you shivered and whined involuntarily, your breaths becoming your words as they grew louder and louder.

his hands were so warm, so much larger than your own and felt infinitely better. not knowing how he will touch you next was part of the thrill, keeping you dangling for more and more. out of options, your arms clung around charlie as the floating sensation returned. when his head slightly turned to plant a swift kiss against your clammy hand, you couldn’t stop yourself anymore. you’ve never before experienced a moment in which you genuinely didn’t use your head until now, feverishly kissing him despite your amateur skills.

it wasn’t like it mattered — your skills, that is — because he was quick to take charge again, incapable of being left in the dark for a moment. in addition, his hand that was once busy with your clit now began prodding at your cunt. “oh, god,” you sigh quietly, feeling the tip of his finger gently prod into you, minimally stretching your virgin cunt.

“he isn’t here,” father mayhew’s voice was quiet as you continued to softly moan against his every movement, “only me.”

his fingertip dug deeper, making you squeal and instinctively close your thighs around his hand, restraining his movements despite his finger’s continuing assault against your wet cunt. the pinch of discomfort dissolved quickly into pleasure, the sensation allowing your legs some rest. father mayhew smiles softly, noting the change in your reception.

“fa — daddy, it’s —” you struggled to speak up, his finger burrowing deeper and deeper into you. he made a noise that resembled a chuckle — perhaps a satisfied one — as he slowly stroked his digit in and out of you.

“so wet,” he mindlessly says, “so special and pure.”

he seemed ignorant to your reactions, simply observing as though he had no power to control it. he enjoyed watching you, and you were beginning to think you enjoyed being watched.

“it’s why god brought you to me,” he finishes, mumbling against the skin of your neck. softly and desperately, he gently nips at your skin, leaving a trail of saliva down your throat. you moaned, the sensation of his ring finger joining his middle inside you to stretch you beyond what you ever knew before.

“it’s — ah! — i’m gonna —” your announcement dissipates into feverish, loud moans. something was overcoming you quickly; a warm gush of wetness and tension nearly bursting.

“cum for me. trust me, angel,” his voice remained soft but held a dark undertone, as though he was daring you to unravel on his hand.

you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter as your resolve crumbled. an implosion of pleasure pulsating from your wetness, which spilled all over father mayhew’s hand as you squealed once more.

“good — good girl,” he praises again, his long fingers brushing against your clit as you came down from the orgasmic high. his soft lips gently laid kisses against your neck as you caught your breath.

it seemed you’d made a deal with the devil; your body in exchange for god’s everlasting mercy.

[biasenn]

this is very, deeply, truly, utterly important to me‼️

[biasenn]

É por essas e outras que a gente não precisa ficar botando a mão no fogo por famoso nenhum "ah mas fulano nunca faria isso" amor vc conhece ele como artista, não como pessoa

[biasenn]

I guess he really likes this shirt uh…? Suits him so well tbh.

[biasenn]

Masterlist

The Last Kingdom

Sihtric Kjartansson

Modern AU, Criminal x Detective!reader

Sihtric is drug lord you have been trying to catch for months. You are finally at the right place at the right time. Will you be successful at arresting him this or will he slip through your fingers once again?

2. Sihtric Kjartansson x wife!reader

Sihtric comes back from war and can’t wait to see his wife

3. Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader

Just Sihtric and Uthred’s stubborn sister separated from the rest in a forest after an attack

4. Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader

Sihtric and Uhtred’s sister wants to get married but for that to happen they need Uhtred’s blessing…which may not be so easy to get

5. Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader

Sihtric is badly injured and Uhtred and his gang of bastards takes him to the nearest healer available

Finan

1. Finan x nun!Reader ft Osferth

Osferth having a mental breakdown as he watches Finan get a little too close with a beautiful nun. Osferth’s pov

Bad Boys

Armando Aretas

1. Armando Aretas x Doctor!Reader

There might be a reason why Armando gets into too many prison fights

2. Armando Aretas x UndercoverCop!Reader

Everything is a cruel twist of fate

3. Armando Aretas x Undercover Cop!Reader

Falling in love while undercover is not a fairy tale

4. Armando Aretas x Detective!Reader

It’s not easy catching Armando, especially when he is always one step ahead of you

5. Armando Aretas x Detective!Reader

Armando lured you to him, but for what?

6. Armando Aretas x Reader

Armando will always save the woman he loves

7. Armando Aretas x Detective!Reader

You finally got a chance to interrogate Armando, but unfortunately there is not enough evidence to keep him in custody, which frustrates you. Armando on the other hand is enjoying the interrogation session

Fast and Furious

Dante Reyes

1. Dante Reyes x Reader

Just Dante and his girlfriend getting a little steamy while he talks about his revenge plan

[biasenn]

big dicked ghost 👻 (🌽 link)

there is no denying, simon is BIG. in all senses of the world. he's tall and built like a fucking tank. and it reflects in what's between his thick and strong legs. because his dick isn't just big, it's girthy.

and his girth becomes a problem when fucking you, because a bit of foreplay isn't enough to get your poor pussy ready for what's about to come. quickies are not an option with ghost, because he has to spend a quite decent amount of time preparing you to take him.

he always starts eating you out, getting you nice and wet. and then his mouth starts getting accompanied by a chunky finger, while his lips latch around your clit, sucking incessantly. and one finger becomes two, and then three as he slowly works you open.

it may be a tedious job in some ways, but the reward is top notch. and it comes in the form of some of the best fucks in the world, with the extra stimulation coming from his with splitting you in two. and for him? the feeling of your tight walls hugging his cock.

and trust me, he's going to be balls deep inside of you.

[biasenn]

HEARTS OF STEEL, LOVE OF SILK

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric x Reader Settings: Season 5, episode 1 Summary: While you and your children enjoy a peaceful, domestic life in Rumcofa, Sihtric comes up with a pleasant surprise for you. Word Count: 3,9 K Warnings: Fluff, domestic fluff, smut, bad smut, very very bad smut, p in v sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, Daddy Sihtric is a warning itself. A/N: This fic was totally unplanned at first. It came out after a month and half of writing's block. I have planned no outline, no general guidelines, so sorry if you see a messy writing and some rushed parts. This is my first time writing smut, so I apologise if you'll find some horrors inside. This is a birthday present for my beloved @foxyanon . Hope you like it. If you're not, as I told you, you're free to cancel me. A special thanks to @zaldritzosrose , @legitalicat and @sylasthegrim for being a continuous inspiration and helping me with the fic, especially for the last part.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

Winter came to Rumcofa in the blink of an eye, even faster than you could have imagined, unlike the village you once called home. However, you would be lying if you said that the cold season brought nothing but atmospheric surroundings. The white, soft snow covered part of the village streets all the way to the wooden dock, the frost clinging to the planks like delicate lace. The trees had been stripped of their leaves, but their bare branches were adorned with pure white, along with some water plants sprouting along the sides of the dock. The harsh temperatures didn't stop the merchants from coming and going as they reached the village by boat, some even staying the night and enjoying the evening bustle of the alehouse, warming their bodies with a hot meal and ale.

You didn't mind walking the streets at this time of year, the hustle and bustle of the village warming the air with a pleasant buzz. But there were days like this when you simply basked in the warmth of your home, a modest but cosy hut that provided a safe nest from the biting cold outside.

Signe, your daughter, was content to sit on your lap, her legs swinging happily and her eyelids half closed as you ran the palm of your hand through her silky hair, your bone comb gently untangling a few pesky knots. A soft hum escaped your lips, a soothing melody accompanied by the crackle of the fire, as your eyes wandered to your two youngest twins, Kare and Kore, playing peacefully on the warm fur on the floor, with a few wooden toys scattered about.

A buzz of voices outside caught your attention, a deep male voice followed by two shrill ones. And as the door of your hut swung open, you recognised the voices of your husband, Sihtric, followed by your first and third sons, Hindr and Ivar, the latter hoisted onto his father's broad shoulder. You saw the twins raise their heads, run to their father and cling to his shirt, tugging at it as Sihtric's free hand roamed over their small heads, playfully ruffling their hair with a wide grin on his face.

Years had passed, and Sihtric had become one of Uhtred's most trusted allies and friends, and a formidable warrior, earning him the nickname, along with Finan and Osferth, of "Uhtred's Pretty Boys". Yet despite his newfound confidence, you could see in his gaze the same shy warrior you had met many years ago in Coccham, on one of your usual stops on your lonely journeys. You were a warrior not bound to any lord, and Sihtric had been sworn under Uhtred's protection some years ago.

You could remember all the stolen glances you shared that night in the alehouse, and how he looked away quickly when he met your eyes, the flush in his cheeks visible in the dim light. It took some time for you to get to know him better, and at first you thought the Dane didn't enjoy your company, for he fled at the first opportunity.

But Sihtric loved you, of course he did. A love so fierce and sincere that it would move even the hardest of the gods. And because he loved you so much, he feared to disappoint you: he was born a bastard, with nothing to give you in return but his skill with the sword. It was not until you joined Uhtred's warriors a few months later that you got to know each other well, and the spark of love exploded like a fire in the middle of the forest. After a short courtship, Sihtric asked his lord for permission to marry you, and he eagerly agreed.

The gods blessed your union with the arrival of your first child, a boy you both named Hindr. Three years later, your union was blessed again with the arrival of Signe, who Sihtric affectionately called "my little princess". While you loved your two children dearly, you both agreed that there was room in your love nest for one more, and a few years later Ivar was born. 

Your fourth pregnancy came as a surprise, as neither of you had planned to welcome another child into your family. Sihtric was reluctantly forced to leave his family to follow Uhtred in his attempt to retake Bebbanburg, and while he was busy defending the borders of Mercia, you gave birth alone, bringing two healthy twins into the world. You were reunited after the Siege of Winchester, and after shedding tears of joy for his children, he vowed to be a more present father and husband and make up for lost time.

"Let me come with you, Papa!" was the whining voice of Hindr, tugging at his father's sleeve to get his attention. The Dane lowered Ivar to the ground, and after he both kissed his sons' foreheads, he bent over his firstborn.

"It's still too dangerous for you, Hindr," Sihtric chided in a calm but firm tone, his calloused fingers stroking the child's cheek and chuckling at his son's little pout. "One day you will join me. I promise you." He finished, kissing the top of his head.

Then he rose and approached you and Signe by the fire. As soon as he was in your presence, he bent over you, holding two small flowers in one of his hands.

"One for my little princess," the Dane said softly, placing one of the flowers in his daughter's hand and gently pressing his lips to her forehead, to which Signe responded with a shy, silent nod. "And one for my queen," he added, leaning his face over yours and sealing your lips with a tender and lingering kiss. You closed your eyes, savouring the moment as a pleasant and familiar warmth spread through your chest. It had been a long time since you and Sihtric had shared an act of intimacy, and caring for five children took time away from even a brief kiss.

But the time was up, and soon you were forced to break the kiss and watch as Sihtric hurriedly took his sword. "Are you leaving already?" you asked, a hint of disappointment in your voice. Sihtric looked over at you as he took one of the twins in his arms.

"The Blood Month, my love," the Dane said, content to be surrounded by his wife and children, "Our boy Aethelstan is ready for his first hunt and we will join him.”

You hummed in understanding, your body mechanically combing Signe's hair while your mind was elsewhere. You loved your children, they all had your blood and Sihtric's running through their veins. But you were a warrior before you were a mother, and the time you spent on the battlefield with your husband was a distant memory. But Sihtric seemed to sense your discomfort, and he approached you once more before putting Kore down. 

"I swear we will celebrate the next Blood Month together, my love," the Dane reassured you in a soothing voice and gave you a final kiss before saying goodbye to his children one by one. Before leaving the hut, he stroked Hindr's hair once more. "Protect your Mama and siblings while I'm gone, little warrior."

"As if his mother could not protect herself," you scolded playfully, rolling your eyes dramatically. Sihtric replied with a loud chuckle, his eyes sparkling with affection as he crossed the threshold of the door.

"I know you can, my fierce shield maiden," he replied with a grin, closing the door behind him.

You quickened your pace as you reached the alehouse, holding the twin's small hands in yours. Sihtric followed ahead of you, a small axe taken from Hindr sheathed in his leather belt, as he watched his three eldest children run through the building. 

The hunt had gone well, except for one unforeseen event that no one had anticipated. Sihtric told you how Aethelstan had been attacked by three men, but had somehow managed to kill one and survive almost unharmed. It was not a boar they had sacrificed, but at least the Blood Month tradition was somehow expected. But it was the unexpected arrival of Eadith that took everyone by surprise: Uhtred and his men knew she had left after the events in Mercia and Winchester, but no one expected her to pay a sudden visit to Rumcofa.

The alehouse was warm, the flickering fire of candles dancing through the tables and casting a cosy glow on the wooden walls. The aroma of ale filled the air, the clatter of mugs and the cheerful chatter and laughter of the men adding to the convivial atmosphere. 

With each mug of ale in hand, the whole group stood still and circled around Eadith as she told them the stories of how she had come to Frankia and how she had learned and honed her skills as a healer. As the conversation continued, you could see the surprise in the redhead's eyes when she recognised Aethelstan among the men, and you couldn't blame her. 

You remember how King Edward's bastard son was taken under Uhtred's protection and raised among you: the child knew nothing of the dangers of the world, spending his early years in a monastery, his cocoon shielded from the outside world. Most of the time he ended up in your and Sihtric's care, and together with Cynlaef you raised them as your sons, the boys calling your own their little siblings. But now they were grown men, and you looked at them with pride and emotion: you and Sihtric still had your own children to love and cherish, but you would be lying if you said you missed those moments.

"This is Sihtric's wife," Uhtred said to Eadith, pointing to you with the mug in his hands, "and all of her and Sihtric's little pack that populate this town."

"Five children can hardly populate Rumcofa, Uhtred," you replied with a smile, your fingers gently stroking Signe's hair.

"Perhaps the gods will be on our side and bless our union again," Sihtric added, his hand slipping from your shoulder to your flat stomach. It was no secret that you both longed for another child, but you both knew that you were not the young and fresh couple you once were, and your ageing bodies made that dream distant and uncertain. 

"Perhaps you should ask your gods for a little nudge," Finan snorted lightly, holding Ingrith by the waist and your son Kare in his arms. In the midst of the laughter, you could see Finan and Sihtric exchanging a knowing look that surprised you, but did not carry much weight.

The conversation continued until sundown, when the sun set, giving way to the moon, and the orange of the sky was replaced by a deep blue dotted with stars.

As you entered your hut, you threw your cloak and boots onto the nearest chair, tossed your hair aside and tried to undo the laces of your dress. Sihtric was the last to enter, closing the door behind him, unbuckling his belt and placing his weapons against the nearest wall. 

When you turned to look at him, you noticed that something was wrong: everything was quiet, too quiet for a family with five children. You would expect chaos after a day at the alehouse, your husband running over his children in a playful catch, or just you and Sihtric sitting by the fire playing with them before tucking them into bed. But they were nowhere to be seen.

“Where is our little pack?” you asked with a hint of worry in your voice, frustration rising as you struggled to untie your laces.

"With Finan and Ingrith," Sihtric replied casually, his voice dropping as he approached from behind. Had you listened more closely, you would have heard a bit of hoarseness in his voice. "I asked them to look after our children for the night." 

The Dane put his hands on your waist and pulled you gently from behind, pressing your back against his chest. You could feel his hot breath against your skin, his facial hair tingling your skin as he planted soft kisses on the side of your neck. 

"I would have preferred to be informed of this idea of yours, Sihtric," you sighed, lifting your head to give him better access to your neck. You felt a shiver run down your spine, a strange but familiar warmth blooming in your lower abdomen: you could not remember the last time Sihtric had made your head spin and your body tremble with pleasure, the sounds of your moans echoing in your head.

“Is it so wrong to surprise you, little wife?” he whispered in your ear. 

His teeth slowly grazed the skin of your neck. It was only meant as a tease, a way to have you fully entranced by him. Your words began to come out in broken, stuttered responses as you tried to think of anything coherent. 

"Help me undo these laces and you will see how wrong you are," you replied courtly and sharply breathed, feigning offence in that remaining moment of lucidity. But your veil of resoluteness soon fell as you felt his rough hands cross your back, one of his tattooed fingers tracing your spine in a fluid motion. And as you sighed at the sensation of him touching the laces of your dress, a loud gasp escaped your mouth as you heard the muffled sound of a tear, the movement so unexpected that you lost your balance and were forced to place your hands on the table.

"Ah, m-my dress!" you hissed, your eyelids half open at the feel of his mouth kissing and nibbling your exposed skin, from the nape of your neck to your shoulders. "You tore one of your gifts-"

"I will buy you another one," Sihtric cut you off with a low murmur, savouring every inch of you with his mouth, "I will buy you the finest gown in all of Northumbria, if you allow me," the Dane continued, working his way up from your shoulder to your earlobe, nibbling gently, "but you know I will always prefer you without your clothes on."

All hope of maintaining self-control was lost when his hands began to squeeze your breasts as he sank his teeth into your tender flesh. You moaned loudly, your mind clouded with too much pleasure as you pressed against his body: Sihtric let out a low, guttural moan as he felt his throbbing cock pressed against your arse, sinking his teeth deeper into your shoulders. 

He had waited too long for this moment, and had he had the chance, he would have stripped you naked and humped you on the kitchen table. But in his eyes you were his queen and goddess, ready to throw away his pleasure to satisfy yours first.

Instead, Sihtric spun you around and sat you on the table while he quickly revealed your breasts, slightly swollen from all the time you had spent carrying and feeding your children. His lips trailed down your throat, his tongue tasting the saltiness of your skin as he finally reached for your breast, his mouth enveloping and sucking gently as he cupped the other one in his hand, teasing your hardening nipple with his fingers. Shrieks and whimpers were your only sounds, accompanied by your soft moans as you rolled your eyes back, your back arching as you surrendered to the pleasure of the moment, the warmth in your abdomen spreading uncontrollably. 

You could feel your core pulsing with excitement, a burning sensation that felt like sweet torture to you, loud sighs mixed with your screams as you desperately searched for something to relieve you. The wetness between your legs only increased as you felt one of Sihtric's hands push up your skirt, his fingers trailing up your inner thigh as they reached your warm cunt. 

"Already so wet for me, my love?" the Dane asked in a hoarse voice, teasing your core with a few strokes before pushing a finger inside you, the intrusion unexpected but pleasurable at the same time. You almost forgot how thick his fingers were as he stroked inside you, how often he let your body float and how much your legs trembled at his touch. 

Babbling and rambling words were the only thing you could say, your rational self temporarily gone. His name, called out like a ritual chant in a breathless voice, was the only word you could manage, your low throaty voice reaching his ears like a distant melody, frustrating him as his cock grew impatient in his breeches. But he knew he would postpone his pleasure for much longer, not before he made you squirm and scream his name loudly until your lungs were empty of air.

"How much I missed this," Sihtric whispered, leaning his head towards you, "how much I missed us." 

"Sihtric," you sighed as his lips met yours, the kiss far from the gentle one you had shared in the morning. It was a needy, bruising kiss that told a story of longing touch and pent-up passion, of two souls locking their primary desires for the sake of their family. 

Sihtric's tongue parted, the tip finding an entrance into your parted lips. You allowed him to enter your mouth, your tongues meeting in a frenzied dance as you swallowed another loud moan and felt another finger penetrate you. You inadvertently moved your hips towards him, moaning at how perfectly his thick fingers stretched inside you, his wriggles teasing and rubbing your tight walls. 

Your husband could feel your hips moving frantically against his hand, your arse slapping against his open palm and your walls tightening against his fingers, a signal that your climax was reaching its breaking point. But he had no intention of letting you finish like that: he needed to remember how you tasted, to savour you and drink you all up. 

He gently pushed you back, wanting to lay you down and bury his head in your thighs. But you quickly grabbed his wrist and stopped him, a frustrated moan escaping his lips.

"Not here," you murmured breathlessly, your body still trembling from the pleasure you had just received. For as much as you could not wait to release your own excitement, you would never let him take you on the table. 

Sihtric's impatience grew as he scooped you up in his arms, carried you in front of the fire and laid you on the warm furs. Your lips entwined again in hungry and lustful kisses as you both undressed, Sihtric tearing your dress to shreds while you removed his with gentle movements, letting them fall with a soft thud. 

You both stood naked by the fire, his lips moving quickly down, tasting and biting your skin from throat to belly, until he spread your legs in desperation, his head trapped between your thighs. His breath was hot against your folds, the heat from his mouth so pleasant and arousing that you would have closed your legs and found some friction had Sihtric not spread them with his hands. He teased your wet core with the tip of his tongue, but the taste of you was so intoxicating that all restraint was lost. First a lick, then his tongue penetrated your folds, devouring you like prey after a day's hunting. Your head began to spin, moans and whimpers escaping your lips as your fingers trailed over his curls, tugging wildly at them, causing the Dane to grunt and moan in return. 

You reached your peak quickly, coming on his tongue as he eagerly lapped up your release. Your thighs trembled under his grip, which caused Sihtric to chuckle next to your folds. 

“Good girl, such a pretty wife I have,” he said quietly with a kiss to each thigh. “Are you willing to give me one more?” 

Before you could even answer, he allowed you to taste yourself on his lips as he positioned himself between your legs, his cock twitching painfully as his own arousal desperately needed to be released. Keeping your legs spread, he spat on his tip and after a few strokes, he positioned himself at your entrance and thrust into you in one swift motion. It took all his willpower not to fuck you at speed: instead he chose a slow approach, his length stretching inside you like a sweet torture. He was slow at first, creating a careful rhythm, knowing how sensitive you were.

“Do not be so gentle now, husband,” you said softly as you leaned up. Your lips ghosted across his chest, then his collarbone, creating a trail of chills as you went. His thrusts faltered a bit as he shuddered with each kiss. “I am not some fragile flower, I can take it.”

Your leg wrapped around his hips, allowing him deeper inside you as you angled your hips up. One hand gripped your thigh, holding your leg tightly around him, while the other braced itself on the furs, holding his weight. A string of curse came out with every thrust, now deeper and harder. 

The crackling of the fire could not hide the vocal chaos you two were making, the room filled with your whimpers and moans, Sihtric panting and grunting as he fucked you deep and hard, hissing under his teeth every time you tugged at his curls wildly. One of his hands moved from your hips to your flat stomach, the circling movements gentle in contrast to his rough movements.

“How good would it be to see you round with my pup again,” he whispered with an animalistic growl, never faltering his pace as you both rocked against each other’s hips.

“I would like to, husband” you whined, arching your back and head as he hit a sensitive spot. “But I am afraid my body could not bear another pup inside me,” 

Upon hearing your words, Sihtric lowered over you, kissing the contour of your jaw gently, “Never underestimate the workings of the gods, my love,” he whispered with a hoarse voice, “We do not know what-”

A choked moan escaped his throat, grunting against your neck as he quickened the pace once more, his own climax on the verge of the release. The grip on your hips tightened into a bruised vice, your walls clenching around him, eagerly awaiting his release.

"Fuck, please," you let out a sharp breath as you clung to him, your nails digging into his back until they left scratches. Your senses were sharpened by the growing wave of pleasure, leaving you temporarily stunned as you felt your own release coming. 

"Come to me, my queen," was the gruff voice of Sihtric you heard, praising you and whispering honeyed words before you both came simultaneously, wetting his cock with your fluids as your walls milked him of all his seed. When he pulled himself out, you both collapsed on the furs, both a terrible mess, but neither of you wanted to leave each other's embrace. You remained entwined for minutes that seemed an eternity, your fingers intertwined as you opened your eyes.

"Sihtric," you called out breathlessly, feeling the Dane's head rise against your neck, "What if the gods do not bless us with another pup?" 

Your question made Sihtric smile fondly, his rough hand resting on your cheeks as your lips met in a tender kiss.

"Then I will thank them for giving me a beautiful wife and five loving children to love and cherish with my whole heart."

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm @sihtricsafin @arcielee