#i love sebastian stan | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marvelobsessed134 · 7 months

Text

Put me in a movie

Pairings: Sebastian Stan x Fem!reader

Warnings: smut, traditional gender roles (dominant husband, submissive wife), kind of dark!Seb, filming of sexual acts, squirting, rough sex, manhandling, degradation, humiliation (kinda), and I think that’s it let me know if I missed anything.

Summary: you beg your husband to let you be in a movie

“Please Sebastian. I’d love to be in one of those movies you’re in!” You pleaded, hands clasped together and looking up at him with sweet eyes.

Sebastian caressed your chin and said, “You wanna be in a movie baby? I’ll put you in a movie.”

And that’s how you ended up on your shared bed that overlooked the city below out the window, in a black mini dress sucking his thumb as he filmed you with his phone.

“Yeah, there you go.” He praised, his voice raspy. Your core started to tingle. This was way better than any blockbuster he could’ve put you in.

You moaned around his finger before he removed it from your mouth, zooming in on your face as he tilted your chin up.

“You wanna come over here and get in your knees?” The actor asked and you nodded, scrambling to get in position. You looked up at him as he undid his belt with one hand and pulled his cock out. You stared at him for a bit.

“It’s not gonna suck itself.” The Romanian said and you giggled a bit, blushing from embarrassment before wrapping your lips around his shaft, slowly bobbing your head until you got a good rhythm. Seb made sure to capture all of this happening with his phone.

He gripped the back of your head and pushed you all the way down, making you choke on his cock. “Fuck, you look so pretty choking on my dick like that.” He crooned.

You gagged around him, drool seeping down your chin before he pulled you off and forcefully made you look up at him by tugging your hair.

“You’re just my little slut aren’t you?” He cooed.

You nodded.

“Say it, say ‘I’m a little slut’.”

“I’m a little slut.” You giggled, looking into the camera lens and smiling.

“That’s my girl. Get up and strip.” And you did just that sliding off your black dress to show you were in fact wearing nothing underneath.

“Fuck, you really are a little slut. Not wearing a single thing under this little thing. Get on the bed, and sit pretty for me.”

You sat on the bed on your knees and watched as he approached you. Sebastian tweaked a nipple between his fingers making you shiver and hiss.

“You like these perfect nipples being played with dont you? So sensitive.” He groaned when you jumped as he unexpectedly moved to the other one.

“Mmm Seb…” you whined.

“What is it baby?” He asked, zooming in on your pretty face, “What do you need?”

“I need you to fuck me. Please.” You begged, tears in your eyes.

“Lay down.” He commanded and you did what he said. He then handed you the phone to hold and film him taking his shirt off and kicking his pants off before lining his cock up to your entrance. Grabbing the phone from you, he filmed up close of him pushing into your tight hole.

“Ohhh.” You moaned breathily as he stretched you.

Sebastian went back to filming your face as he thrusted into you, enjoying the tears falling down your cheeks and the way your mouth is open in a perfect ‘o’ shape. And the way your eyebrows furrowed.

“Ohh Sebby…” you cried as he started going faster.

“Feels good doesn’t it? Such a good little girl.” Your husband responded back to you in a moan.

The two of you were in heaven as you looked at the camera of his iPhone.

Sebastian turned the camera to him for a bit, still thrusting into you, “Yeah, she’s always like this. Just can’t get enough of my cock now can you?”

He turned the camera back to you and you shook your head.

“Tell me, can you get enough of my cock?”

“No! I can’t get enough of your- Ah- cock!” You moaned.

You then found yourself clenching around him. “Oh baby I’m gonna cum!” You screamed.

Seb removed his cock as he watched you squirt all over the place. He made sure to capture that on camera. “Holy fuck I love when you do that. I’ve got a little squirter on my hands huh?” He asked and you laughed.

The brunette pushed back into you and fucked you until he finished on your stomach. He moved the camera back up to your face and asked, “Was that a blockbuster or not?”

You gave him a blissed out smile and chuckled, “Mmm yeah.”

#sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #smutty #smutty fanfic #put me in a movie #rough smut #I love sebastian stan

205 notes · View notes

fleuraimer · 5 months

Text

hi girlies :)). i've got another breeding blurby to share, thank ms. bubbles @harrysonlylover.

wc: 1.6k

cw: talk of menstrual and ovulation cycle, smut, minors dni, 17+, breeding kink, and more. not proofread.

Some people might say that the extent of his knowledge and control over Y/N’s life is not healthy. They might even suggest that his possessive behavior is a red flag, too. The constant messaging, always knowing her location, who she’s with, when she’s with them, why, how…

They didn’t tend to think of it that way. Love comes in all forms and theirs is… different.

Y/N likes being controlled. She wants him to know everything about her. She fucking craves the comfort of being taken care of for the price of absolutely nothing.

Well, maybe a few things.

Her obedience, for one, was expected (required). Her honesty, and loyalty. Her submission, too (although, sometimes, he liked to submit to her).

They’d found a simple way of living on some inherit, basic principles.

One, Y/N loved to be taken care of.

Two, he loved to take care of her.

So that was that. He was controlling, and she reveled in the power imbalance, and they didn’t care if others didn’t understand it, or like it, or even respect it. It was theirs, and it was enough.

It was fucking perfect.

One of the many ways he kept a tight leash on Y/N’s life was by tracking her menstrual cycle. He liked being ahead of the game—warm bath with waterlily scented suds ready for when she arrived home after her courses, her favorite sweet treats scattered across the kitchen island, Gilmore Girls queued up on his laptop, candles lit and heating pad at attention. Keeping track of her period meant knowing other things, intuitively, too. Like knowing that her cramps were worst on the first few days ( they were horrendous the last days too, though), that she’s more cuddly and soft than irritable or grumpy, that if she was too— no, severely stressed, overworking herself mentally, emotionally, and physically, she’d more likely than not work herself into a dreadful tizzy and end up intensifying (or even sometimes missing) her cycle.

Like now.

The poor thing, she was curled up in a frail little ball by end of the night every day this past week, deadlines looming over her head like a dark, rainy cloud as midterms approach. And, stubborn angel girl she is, she doesn’t bleat and moan about it to him. She doesn’t weep into his chest about how difficult this time is the way he encourages her to. She holds her chin high until the sun falls from the sky, her perseverance going with it, the stars and moon left to keep her and her misery company. And him, of course.

So, before the height of her period—when the red devil actually rears her ugly little head instead of inspiring trepidation of the inevitable with sore tits, an achy spine, and mental anguish—he thinks he’ll treat her a bit. And perhaps himself, as well (what? periods meant ovulating, and ovulating meant a lot of things).

———

Y/N’s head is quiet for the first time in days, and it’s all because of him.

As if anyone else could do what he does for her.

“Pretty girl,” he whispers in the place he’s nuzzled into her neck, littered with love bites and bruises. His cock is stuffed in her drippy pussy, stretching her deliciously over his thick, lengthy girth; his strong, beefy arms trapping her body to his like a vice.

Cowgirl usually makes Y/N’s thighs sore, but he’d taken the liberty of doing all the work tonight. He was in no mood for teasing, nor mocking or degrading. She wasn’t his whore tonight, just his girl. His soft, gorgeous, sensitive girl that deserved a sweet fucking after all the tears she’d choked down this week.

She needed a good cry.

“My little pillow princess, Yeah?” He mumbles, peaking up at her sluggish form. She’s slumped into him, head lain on his shoulder uselessly, hands gripping the tight Henley he’d neglected to rid himself of in the rush of their lustrous dance. She manages a nod, however, lazy and slow, but, somehow, still urgent. Frantic. In the glow of her eye, he can see, she adores that idea. “Yeah,” He nods, gripping the soft curve of her jaw to move her head with him, “My girl.”

She whimpers, but doesn’t speak. Too exhausted, too sedated. His cum is addicting, and if it were a drug, she’d inject it right into her veins (up her cunt).

Her arms wind around his neck, fingers spreading through the curly, sweaty tendrils of hair at the nape. Her nails tickle him, in the best way, only adding to the allure of her being. Of her mere presence.

Her hips swivel, rocking against his to create a mind-numbing sensation that has them both mewling. His cock stretches her out and fills her up completely, felt in the deepness of her tummy. Her lashes flutter when she feels him twitch inside of her, a sign that he’s close (she’d realize that she’s much closer if she had the brain capacity to think of anything other than him).

The thought—of his cum filling her to the point of spilling around their joined parts, a filthy mess between their legs—makes her dizzy. Eager. She’d been good, so good, this week, hadn’t she?

Fed herself, cleaned herself, went to class on time, even though school made her unpleasantly weak in the knees. She studied every day for at least three hours at the library, before trudging home with bleary eyes and a foggy head, only to do more studying.

She deserved a treat, right? A reward for staying in line, for not being bratty or whiny when he was busy and all she wanted was for her brain to shut off.

Now, with the opportunity before her (to go totally brain-dead, that is), she refuses to not seize the moment.

“Come,” she says suddenly, catching him mildly off guard.

Oh? She wanted to order him around?

“Please.”

Oh. Guess not.

“Please, please, come, Sir, I want it, so fucking bad,” she whines, mouthing at the chain sitting delicately across his neck. It’s nearly out of place; something so frail and pretty looks almost comical gracing his large, stocky figure. Perhaps that’s how those judgy people saw them, out of place.

She didn’t care though, she thought it looked nice on him. He made it look nice. Made it better, just like he makes everything better.

“Wan’ me t’a stuff you up, Babydoll?” he grunts, thankful that she’d somehow picked up on his primitive, feral need. Or maybe she just wanted it just as bad. “Fill you with my come and make you m’messy girl?”

“Yes, please,” she cries faintly, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, hiding her face in his neck as the tears finally start to flow.

How precious.

“Okay,” he sighs, his hands trailing from her hips to the plush, full of her ass. “I’ll fill y’up, Sugar.” He lifts her up, letting his cock slip from her fluttering hole to the tip— less than the tip. He smears himself onto her clit, making her jolt, and spanks her in reprimand. “Stay still for Daddy,” he scolds softly. “Lemme do my job.”

She cries pitifully when her thrusts back inside, hard. And he doesn’t lighten up. Not in the slightest. He pounds his cock into her small pussy, chasing his orgasm, trying to claim hers, bullying his way through her tight snatch to find them.

“Play with your pouty clit, Doll,” he offers. “Wan’ y’to come with me; cream my fat cock, Baby.”

Y/N does not need to be told twice.

One hand drops from the back of his head to toy with her swollen button, and it takes three weak twirls of her delicate fingers to get her there. He’s not far behind, nuzzling into her neck once more, mirroring her own position on top of him, groaning out profanities as his orgasm washes over him, from his head to the tips of his toes. He continues to drill his cock into her until his legs give out, trembling beneath her own.

They pant heavily, in unison, into each others necks as they start to come down.

He feels good, accomplished. He can feel that satisfaction rolling off of his girl in waves—felt it throughout their soft session—and it was more than enough to keep him happy. His orgasm was just a much appreciated bonus.

And Y/N… she feels great. Cunt clenching over his half-hard cock, full of him, literally, in every way she could be. Thoughts silenced and replaced with rose hued daydreams, floaty, fuzzy sensations that tingle through her entire body and make her slightly sluggish, slow. She feels fucking amazing.

“Hope it takes…” she admits softly, absently. The phrase slips off of her tongue without thought (we’ve established that their are none left in that subby head of hers), and her tone suggests she’s not expecting a reaction.

He gives her one, anyway.

“Say that again,” he demands, grip on her ass tightening, his voice grumbly, deep, shooting a shiver up her spine.

“Huh?”

“Tell Daddy what the fuck you just said, Babydoll.”

Her eyes round out even more, if possible, lips parted, gazing owlishly. Stupidly.

“Said, ‘I hope it takes,’ Daddy,” She whimpers quietly, squeezing around his, once again, stiff prick.

“Shit,” he hisses, eyes fluttering.

It’s like she wanted to stay locked on his cock all night.

…Oh well.

So be it.

“It’ll take, Sugar,” he says after a few moments of tense silence, shifting her up gently, manhandling her with a softness that makes her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. He presses a chaste kiss to her mouth, sweet. Contradictory.

“Daddy’ll make it take.”

1K notes · View notes