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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 6)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: SMUT!!!! IT’S HAPPENING!!!!!! (oral f receiving and a creampie), other than that a touch of angst and some more flufffff

The sunset out the window had crossed the horizon; only its reflections on the darkening orange sky illuminated the room. As you stepped around your bedroom, Sebastian following close behind, you were suddenly embarrassed by how messy you’d left it— oh god, had you left a bra strewn across a chair where he could see it?

However, when you looked over at him, he had focused on your nightstand. Your wedding ring was there, discarded and lonely beside the lamp.

“Oh, that,” you sighed.

“Sunteți căsătorit?” he asked, picking it up and turning to look at you again. You approached him, admiring how small the ring looked in his hand.

“I was married,” you explained, “my husband… he was having an affair.”

You felt so nervous to say this stuff out loud, even though you knew it would fall on deaf ears. But that was the liberating part: you’d still never told anyone what happened, and now you could speak it aloud without worrying about his judgment.

“My husband was sleeping with my sister,” you clarified. What a disgusting thing to have to say, but so nice to be able to say it to someone.

He looked at you with that look of silent incomprehension, waiting for an explanation he could understand.

You grabbed the ring from his hand and slipped it onto your ring finger. You’d only just recently gotten used to how it felt to not wear it.

You showed off your ring-adorned hand and he nodded. Then, you slipped it back off your finger and tossed it behind you onto the floor.

“Make sense?” you asked him with a smile that barely stopped you from choking up.

“Da,” he nodded, “cred că am ideea.”

“I always wondered if she was prettier than me. She was so jealous when I got married first…” you remembered, eyes beginning to water.

“Shhh,” he soothed, reaching up and running a thumb over your cheek. “Soțul tău trebuie să fi fost un prost care să te dea drumul.”

“Hold me a little longer, won’t you?” you requested.

Without knowing what you said, he did it anyway, wrapping an arm around your waist. The thumb on your cheek moved down and traced over your bottom lip.

“Esti perfect,” he mumbled.

You chuckled quietly, not sure what he was calling perfect— but if he meant this moment, you agreed.

“Sunt îndrăgostit de tine,” he added, quieter.

“I wanted to never fall in love again,” you admitted. “You’re making it very difficult.”

He leaned in closer, very slowly; it was his way of asking permission without words. You nodded and let your eyes flutter shut. Finally, you felt his lips brush against yours, and all at once you were pulling him closer and kissing him back.

You couldn't think of the last time you had been kissed like this. Mostly because you weren't really trying to. All you wanted to think about was him.

It was so gentle at first— relaxed, patient— and it was you who ventured a little further, hugging him tighter and softly moaning against his lips. That was enough to encourage him to deepen the kiss, his tongue subtly pressing forward and tangling with yours. You moaned again, already lost in it, memorizing the way his body felt pressed against yours.

All of a sudden, a hunger began to pang in your chest and you weren't satisfied anymore, both of you seeming to become more desperate at the same moment. A strong, calloused hand reached down and lifted your leg to wrap around his waist. You jumped up and let him catch you as you wrapped around his torso and clung onto his shoulders.

“Fuck, Sebastian,” you mumbled against his lips.

A purring growl echoed from his throat as he grinned. “Spune asta din nou.”

“Take me to bed, please,” you begged. Even if he couldn’t tell what you were saying exactly, you really hoped that your enthusiasm was coming through, along with your nefarious intentions.

He kissed you again, more desperately this time, as his hands moved down to your ass— hopefully not just to keep you from falling.

You fell back onto the bed with a squeal of fear, which quickly shifted to laughter. He laughed too as he climbed on top of you and started to kiss your neck. You whimpered and reached down to his jeans, hoping it wouldn’t be too presumptuous to start working open his belt. He made a noise that was almost like a moan and bucked his hips forward into your hands. Just as you were about to get them open enough to pull them down and finally get your hands on the cock you’d been dying to see and touch and feel for so long, he grabbed your wrists and pushed them away, holding them above your head. You worried you had done something wrong, misinterpreted how far he wanted things to go— but guilt was replaced with anticipation as he started to open your robe, kissing down your chest as the skin was exposed. He deviated from his path to gently grab one of your breasts, which normally weren’t so sensitive but were suddenly very interested in everything going on. You moaned as he swirled his tongue over your nipple before finally sucking it into his mouth and teasing it with his teeth.

“Oh god,” you moaned, feeling his lips curl into a smile against your skin before he moved on, kissing down your ribs, all over your stomach, over your hips…

He grinned as his fingers slipped under the top of your panties, but he didn’t pull them down yet, instead turning his head to kiss the inside of your thigh. “Vreau să te gust,” he murmured. “Pot sa?”

You weren’t sure what he was asking for but you nodded furiously; you were so worked up at this point that almost anything he could want from you would be given willingly. Still, it couldn’t have turned out much better than it did when he slid your underwear down your legs and dipped his head down between them, grinning before licking a wide stripe right through your folds. You moaned and clutched at the sheets while he did it again, and again, and oh fuck— he was doing something with his tongue that made your whole body jerk with shock.

“Se simte bine?” he asked as you craned your head up to look down at him, his voice suddenly so much deeper and rougher in a devastatingly sexy way.

“You know I love when you speak Romanian, but now would be a really great time to shut up and keep going,” you groaned as your head fell back onto the pillow again. He chuckled softly before getting back to work, laving your clit with his tongue and gripping your thighs tightly so you couldn’t squirm away.

Even on your own, you had never moved so quickly towards orgasm before. Then again, you couldn’t exactly do this to yourself, could you? Apparently it was exactly what you needed. Your fingers slid into his hair, pulling it probably a little too hard as you felt your body start to tighten and tense up with impending pleasure.

You were unable to stop yourself from babbling even if you knew it meant nothing to him. “Fuck, don’t stop, please,” you begged. He moaned against you, as if to answer, but didn’t stop; thank god.

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you down as your body tried to squirm away to escape the intensity barraging your senses. Your moans sounded inhuman, totally unlike yourself, echoing around the walls of your room until you bit down on your lip to muffle them— he pinched your leg just enough to make you yelp, an apparent instruction not to censor yourself.

“C-close,” you shuddered, looking down at him quickly before letting your head fall back again, “so close…”

He nodded against you: was it approval, encouragement? You couldn’t be sure, but it made you feel a bit better about letting go and tugging his hair as your back arched dramatically.

“Yes, yes, oh god, fuck— yes!”

Everything in you seemed to snap into reality all at once as your orgasm rocked your body and made a stuttered groan tear from your throat. You felt your hips gyrating against his face, and you were helpless to stop it if you wanted to (which you didn’t).

Just as you were afraid it would be too much pleasure for your body to take, he pulled back with a gasp— clearly he’d been forced to hold his breath for that last bit, which made you feel a little guilty. Your face burned even though you weren't exactly embarrassed… just slightly overwhelmed. He grinned up at you while he caught his breath, and his lips looked exceptionally full when they were glistening with your arousal, as beautifully filthy as it was. You’d had your fair share of sex in your life, but never had you done something so thoroughly erotic, if that was possible.

He sat up and slipped his hands around your waist, pulling you up, too, until you were eye to eye, slotting his lips against yours again. The taste of what he’d done to you was matched in its perfection only by the way he kissed you— rough, needy, with his hands wrapping around the back of your neck and tangling into your hair. You had to break the kiss for fear you’d lose yourself in it, pulling back and looking up at him before reaching into his jeans.

"Vă rog să-mi spuneți că pot să te fut," he sighed as he watched your hand slip beneath his belt. Both of you moaned when your hand wrapped around his cock; it was thick and throbbing in your palm, and the skin was shockingly silky when you began to stroke him (as best you could) in his pants.

Clearly having a similar thought to yours, he quickly pushed his jeans and boxers down, giving your movements more freedom— as well as giving you a better look at it.

"Fuck," you murmured to yourself as you watched your hand move along the curved outline of his length, admiring the way each stroke made a little more precum gather at the tip, and pushed the skin up over the very bottom ridge of his thick head.

You ran your thumb gently along that ridge and felt his body jerk a little. Looking up, you found that he was watching your face; his eyes were exceptionally piercing in that moment, half-lidded and sparkling in the soft light from your bedside lamp. They were so captivating that you didn’t notice he was laying you down until your back hit the plushy mattress, his face hovering above yours, scanning it; searching for something.

You nodded, and he smiled. Seemed he found what he was looking for: your approval. He guided your hand off of his shaft where his own took its place, guiding the swollen head through your folds. When he found your entrance, he leaned down and kissed you again, significantly gentler than before, as he ever-so-slightly pushed forward.

You gasped, trying instinctively to suppress your reaction, but how could you when he was staring right now at you, studying your face as he slowly filled you?

When the head was all the way inside, it was already a stretch but you powered through with a deep breath. However, the next inch made you yelp and your hand shot up to his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Ar trebui să mă opresc?” he asked softly.

“I’m okay,” you sighed, nodding gently, “I’m okay, don’t stop, just—”

He pushed forward further and though your fingernails dug into his skin a bit and you forced your eyes shut, you let out a loud, slow moan. When you opened your eyes, he was looking back at you with an indescribable expression— fiery might be the word, but even that wouldn't be enough.

Afraid he wouldn’t move again, you wrapped your legs around his hips and guided him deeper; this time it was his turn to gasp slightly, his mouth hanging slack before he let his eyes fall shut and briefly bit his lip.

He nestled his face into your neck, roughly shoving the last inch into you: it made your walls clench in shock, but it made you even wetter, too.

“Așa de cald,” he hissed as he bottomed out, “și strâns.”

“You feel so good,” you whispered— you couldn’t be any louder than that because you’d forgotten to breathe, but a gasp brought air back into your lungs when he slowly pulled back only to push back in again.

Your hands clutched at his tanned, muscular shoulders, your body clinging to his for dear life each time he gave you another measured thrust. The sting of the stretch faded into a feeling of fullness, pushing deeper into you than anything ever had before. His pattern was steady, though you could feel him holding himself back in the way his hips stuttered before they met yours, like he was trying not to go too deep. It was hard to imagine how it could even be any deeper, but you wanted to feel all of him even if it broke you.

“More,” you begged, tightening your legs where they held his body close until he had no choice but to grind his hips against yours, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix and making your eyes water. He moaned lowly, finally getting the message and started to slam into you with more ferocity. It was still patient, almost as if there was thoughtfulness to his movements, but a bit more aggressive— even moreso when he bent down to tease your nipples with his tongue and teeth. “Fuck, Sebastian,” you sighed, but you stopped yourself before you said the next words that began to form on your tongue: Yours. All yours.

He wouldn’t know what they meant, but you would. You would know they weren’t empty promises, sweet nothings, or otherwise inconsequential dirty talk.

So, you made a much simpler promise that you knew you could keep: “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you blurted out, realizing it at the same time you announced it. You were a little embarrassed at how quickly it had come to this, but you were still sensitive from the last one, and the look on his face as he leaned down and sucked on your neck didn’t seem to be especially composed either.

“Ești aproape?” he groaned against your ear. You could only think of one thing he could be asking about at this moment— and even if your guess was wrong, there was only one response you were coherent enough to give anyways.

“Yes, I’m close, I’m so close,” you informed him breathlessly, “I’m gonna come, Sebastian, oh my god— come inside me, please… it’s okay to come inside...”

“Înăuntrul?” he asked, more desperate than before as his voice came out almost hoarse. God, you hoped you were talking about the same thing.

“Yes,” you moaned, “yes, inside, please…”

His moans became louder as he breathed in sharply through his teeth, growling a little as he spoke. “Te voi face al meu,” he mumbled, and you didn’t catch anything after that but it sure sounded like he was swearing which you very much related to.

At the same moment your second orgasm sent shocks through your entire body, his cock flexed against your walls and released inside you.

He wasn’t even done coming when he kissed you one last time, his weight sinking on top of yours and pinning you to the bed. Just before his body threatened to crush yours, he sighed and rolled off of you, pulling you into his arms. Only then did you realize you were smiling uncontrollably, unable to fight it even with exhaustion spreading over your limbs and making your eyelids heavy.

“You’ll stay here tonight, right?” you asked sleepily, nuzzling into his chest and listening to him slowly catch his breath. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, your cheek, your ear, repeating the same words over and over though you didn’t know what they meant.

Sleep overtook you quickly; his arm draped over your chest was like a weighted blanket, his whispers like a much sexier version of a white noise machine. It was the best you’d slept since you came to Hungary. Really, it was the best you’d slept in all your life.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fanfic

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writers-are-writers · 7 years

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The Chicken

Hi. I have been very shy and not talked to you before, because anxieties. But I really wanted to write you a story. So I wrote one about a chicken because I am a chicken.

Mary fidgeted from one foot to the other, watching the struggling worm dangle delicately from the red hen’s bone colored lips. Mary would’ve pounced forward and snatched it from her pompous face, but those claws were sharp and she was just smart enough to hold back.

Instead of giving in to her instinct, she chirped uneasily, pacing like a clockwork toy and feeling the dark, bio-fertilizer squelch between her ridged toes. Every nerve in her body sang, urging her to lean forward and slap the worm from Vogul’s mouth. She could feel her hollow bones ache with the need, but she was cautious and kept her distance.

Vogul slurped the meaty worm into her mouth, her head snapping forward as she choked down the pithy meal with a rapacious hunger. Mary felt the dismay of her stomach as it growled underneath her feathered breast. Before she knew it, her legs were kicking out from under her, the tip of her break aimed at the last morsel of fatty flesh that dribbled from Vogul’s face.

With a CLACK Vogul’s beak turned to the side and Mary, unable to compensate, smacked into the unyielding faceplate. The red feathered Vogul howled and kicked out, her heavy talons punching Mary like the tines of a steel fork. Mary screeched and flapped her wings frantically, dust and hayseeds spilling upwards from the moist ground. She landed some feet away, nursing her new scratches and whining softly with her head held low.

Mary’s stomach would not yield to her efforts though; it grumbled and tossed until she felt sick with hunger. She was the smallest chicken in the yard and she should have known that she wouldn’t be able to best a hen like Vogul. But in creatures as simple and driven as Mary was, life was a series of calculations driven by the basic needs of the body. She was hungry and nothing occupied her thoughts like the burning desire to satiate her appetite.

But Mary was not alone; there were a lot of other chickens that she shared the yard with, and none as aggressive and boisterous as Vogul. The red feathered hen strutted around the yard with all the pomp of a rooster, without all the tools to go with the title. She bullied poor Mary mercilessly and whenever the lucky old hen found a worm or an insect crawling in the fresh fertilizer, she would eat it in front of Mary. Over and over Vogul taunted the poor little chicken with her hoggish meals, until Mary had had quite enough.

Exhausted and stressed, Mary cleaned her brown feathers with an attentive fussiness. She groaned as she felt the hot pangs of her craving pulsing through her body like aching blood. She had to get something today! She had to scrounge up something to eat or she would surely starve.

Mary began sniffing the dirt, feeling the waves of powdered scent flush through her tiny nostrils, the information flowing through her brain like computer code. Minerals…seed….fertilizer…but she wasn’t looking for any of that. Mary’s nose was tuned to the smell of worm castings and her belly ached at the thought of gulping down one of those sumptuous tidbits. Her claws carved trident trails through the potash as she scoured the ground for the scent of the worm.

Mary’s bill pushed downwards as her nostrils lifted particulates of dirt with every inhalation, but soon she found it. The enticing scent of worm castings was a promise of a lavish meal to come and she quickened her pace, digging into the earth with a renewed vigor.

Then she found it; like a spark striking in the dark her beak hit the wet, sloshy skin of a thick ropey worm burrowing in the deep. A switch was flipped in her avian brain as she felt it, and her mouth snapped ravenously to try and get ahold of it. The worm wriggled and fought to get away, but it was sluggish with water, and the ground was like a thick soup that slowed its escape. Mary didn’t have much trouble clamping onto it with her razor edged bill, drawing it from the earth with a watery slurping sound.

The worm drooped from her face like an overlong tongue, and she savored the salty taste. Her stomach howled and she began to suck it down with a satisfied chirp.

Then Vogul struck, slapping out with her foot first to knock Mary off balance. Mary screeched and her mouth opened reflexively to let out a startled cry. Vogul took the chance and snatched the worm from her face, stealing it away just before she could bolt it down.

Vogul scattered away with the worm sliding down her red feathered gullet, leaving Mary bewildered and incensed, still trying to find her balance. If chickens could swear, then Mary would have let out a wretched stream of expletives as Vogul pranced away with her hard earned worm.

But Mary wasn’t about to let Vogul get away with it this time. Something within this tiny chicken had changed and, despite the constant pull of instinct, Mary was no long content to allow Vogul her victory. She trudged after the bigger hen, her trembling claws sinking into the heavy earth. She was no longer afraid, no longer cautious. She was going to stand up to Vogul and demand her compensation.

Mary found Vogul puttering lazily underneath a drooping oak tree, pawing at the leaf-covered ground. The other chickens had dispersed to the other corners of the yard, leaving Mary and Vogul alone for their confrontation. Mary stared intently at Vogul, her beady little eyes burning with a fiery anger. Vogul returned her baleful look, scratching the earth and fluffing her wings with a haughty air.

The two opponents glared at each other, only a few feet between them, holding them back from their inevitable confrontation. Vogul refused to back down, Mary refused to drop the issue and return to her ordained social position. This could only end one way.

“This one looks good!” Farmer Joe called from across the yard. His checked red shirt crinkled as he leaned forward, his calloused hands clamping onto Vogul’s neck and dragging her off the ground. She screeched and squirmed helplessly in his iron grip as he brought her up to his height and inspected her with a careful eye.

“A nice big fat one! Get the fryer goin May!” Farmer Joe chuckled, his long legs swaying as he made his way back to the house. Dust clouds of dry dirt filled the air as he strolled his way out of the yard with Vogul, still struggling in one hand. Mary watched him go, her little black eyes following his footsteps as he went through the gate and clicked the latch behind him. Her eyes were drawn to Vogul, flapping pitifully in his hand and squirming to be free.

Mary smiled as only a chicken could, before turning back to the dirt, her tummy grumbling with delight.

#aww you're so cute ❤#submitted story #chicken #writing #submission

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