#Dark Night trilogie

[remuslovebot]

Wildest Dreams | BW

pairing: bale!bruce wayne x fem!reader

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, not proof read, Bruce being lovesick, established relationship. lmk if I missed anything

a/n: send me requests 🥺🥺 also lmk if you want to be on the tag list

taglist: @bumblebeesfromvenus @allysunny @junmsli

☽☽☽

Bruce Wayne had lived a difficult life. Well maybe not as difficult as one would expect. He was a rich playboy with a mansion and had a butler. But losing his parents at a young age took a tole on the man.

You were Bruce’s sunlight, guiding him away from the darkness inside him. Of course, as Batman he made Gotham a better place. But you, you made Bruce Wayne a better person.

You and Bruce had plans tonight. As his day job of being a rich philanthropist and carrying on the Wayne legacy, he must attend and host gala’s for Gotham’s elite.

Tonight was one of those Gala’s. The Williams family made a large donation to fund a homeless shelter in Gotham. This meant, a lot of the homeless population in Gotham would be properly housed instead of living on the street and resulting to crime.

Bruce was never one to like Gala’s. He thought the people whom attended them were ingenuine and cared more about their appearance instead of actually helping the city.

You tried to tell him that at least the money would help. Bruce couldn’t argue with that. You were right. Their money would help Gotham, but their attitude was atrocious.

One night, Bruce had gotten visibly jealous as he caught a man — who used to be one of this father’s close confidants — hitting on you at the open bar.

“And do you know what I said to my fellow soldiers?” The creepy old man asked.

You were not interested in the conversation. He was very clearly flirting with you and it made you uncomfortable. “No, I don’t,” you said, vaguely and uninterested.

Suddenly a warm and comforting hand wrapped around your waist. A familiar kiss pressed against your cheek. You turned and a smile graced your features. Bruce.

“Did you tell them you’re flirting with someone who is old enough to be your daughter?” Bruce said to the old man. “If you will excuse us, we have to talk to Commissioner Gordon.”

As Bruce swept you away, he pinched your side playfully. “Thank you,” you said up to his ear.

“Couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else getting close to you. Especially an old creep like him,” he said.

You liked when Bruce got possessive, although you would let him know that. You wouldn’t be able to live it down.

You were currently getting ready for tonight’s gala, standing infront of your large mirror and putting on your diamond jewelry. It was a present that Bruce had gifted you.

“You look breathtaking,” Bruce said. Think of the devil and he shall appear. He’d leaning against the wall, looking at you in the mirror. You look at him, seeing him in the glass.

“Thank you,” you say softly, a blush covering your cheeks.

Bruce is wearing a fancy suit and a navy blue tie to match the color of your dress. You fix a diamond earring and then turn around to face him. Walking, towards him.

“Your tie is crooked Mr. Wayne,” you smile, fixing his tie.

He hums in response, placing his hands delicately on your waist. “What would I do without you?” Bruce asked softly.

You smile back at him, placing a reassuring kiss on his cheek.

During the gala, Bruce pulled you to him on the dance floor. “Dance with me?” He gently asked.

You nodded in agreement and placed your hand in his. Bruce placed a hand on your waist and connected your other hand. The classical music surrounding the dance floor, enveloped you both completely.

Your head rested on his shoulder and he looked down at you with such content and happiness. “I love you,” Bruce whispered.

Bruce had never shared this information before now. He’d thought it obviously, how could he not love you — be in love with you.

You looked up at him, your beautiful eyes staring back at his. “I love you too Bruce,” you replied.

It was simple and sweet. Bruce and you deserved a quiet night in each others company.

Bruce leaned forward to kiss you. Returning the kiss you moved your arms to wrap around his neck. He pulled you close.

From across the ballroom, a photographer snapped a picture. You two looked like Gotham’s happiest couple. Bruce had found the woman of his dreams and his home.

“You’re my wildest dreams,” Bruce said softly, rubbing his nose against your own. “I’m never letting you go.”

“Good,” you smiled contently.

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Cost of Fame

(37)Cillian Murphy x F! (23)Famous Reader

Summary: You are currently in a presscon for your new album, an interviewer asked you about your relationship with Cillian.

Wordcount: 5.6k

Warnings:

Switch! Cillian, unsafe sex, m! overstimulating, m! & f! oral receiving and giving, handjobs, fingering, p in v, soft/dirty talk, aftercare, younger reader, like by 14 years. So she’s 23 lolz.

She smiled at the interviewer, the question about your relationship with Cillian Murphy one she’d faced many times before. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, knowing that her answer will be scrutinized and analyzed by both fans and critics alike.

After several questions about your music and upcoming projects, the interviewer stood up, his expression sharp and confrontational. She recognized him immediately as someone who thrived on controversy.

“Do you think Cillian is having a mid-life crisis by dating someone your age?"

The interviewer’s question hangs in the air, charged with insinuation. She took a moment, maintaining her composure, and then meet their gaze with a calm, confident smile.

“Cillian and I have a relationship built on mutual respect and genuine affection,” she begin. “It’s disappointing that people might reduce our connection to a cliché like a mid-life crisis. Cillian is an incredible person with a deep understanding of life, and he values me for who I am, not just my age.”

"Do you think Cillian sees you as more of a trophy girlfriend because of your age and beauty?"

The fuck is with this interviewer man..Jesus Christ

Maintaining her composure despite the intrusive nature of the question, takes a moment before responding. Her expression is calm but resolute, reflecting both her confidence and the depth of her feelings for Cillian.

"I understand why some people might think that way," she begins, her voice steady and measured. "But those who know Cillian and our relationship understand that it goes far beyond superficial attributes like age or appearance."

She takes a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. "To suggest that he sees me as a 'trophy girlfriend' is to undermine the very essence of what we share. We challenge each other, support each other, and grow together.”

Her eyes soften as she continues. "Cillian has always made me feel valued and respected for who I am as a person, not just for how I look or my age. That's something I deeply cherish about our relationship."

She finishes with a confident smile. "So, to answer your question: No, I don't believe Cillian sees me as a trophy. He sees me as his partner, his equal, and someone he truly loves."

She had walked into this interview feeling ready for any kind of questions they might throw at you but for god’s sake she wasn’t prepared for any of these questions.

"Given your significant age difference with Cillian Murphy, do you think you’re being taken advantage of in your relationship? Or do you believe it’s just a phase you'll grow out of once you mature a bit more?" he asked, his tone dripping with insinuation.

The room fell silent, the question hanging in the air like a dark cloud. She felt a rush of heat flood her face, a mix of anger and hurt. The insinuation was clear, and the disrespect stung deeply.

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, but the anger was too raw. "Excuse me?" She said, her voice steady but laced with a cold edge. The interviewer didn't back down, his eyes gleaming with the anticipation of a reaction.

"Do you think your relationship is genuine, or is it just a means for publicity?" he pressed on, clearly sensing he had struck a nerve.

She stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. The room collectively held its breath. "I don’t have to justify my personal life to you or anyone else," she said, her voice firm. "This interview is over."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out, the silence behind her was deafening. The press conference, with its blinding lights and probing questions, had left her drained. The whispers of the journalists faded as she made her way down the elegant staircase of the venue, the heels of her shoes clicking rhythmically on the marble steps.

She pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she navigated to Cillian’s number. The screen seemed to blur momentarily as the fatigue from the day caught up with her. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the call button and held the phone to her ear, listening to the steady ring. She loved Cillian, but sometimes he was a bit slow to pick up the phone.

Finally, the call connected, and you heard his familiar, comforting voice. "Ey’ love, how’d it go?"

Her breath shook a bit as she responded, "Cill, definitely not a fun interview."

"Do you want to talk about it when you get home?" His concern was evident, and it warmed your heart.

"Yes, it would be nice," she replied softly.

"I love you," she said before hanging up. The weight of the day seemed to lift slightly with those three words. She slipped her free hand into her purse, pulling out her favorite pair of bulky Louis Vuitton sunglasses. They were perfect for hiding from the paparazzi, who were most definitely outside waiting for her.

With a sigh, she put on the sunglasses. As she stepped out into the waiting throng of photographers and reporters, she felt a rush of flashes and shouts. The cameras were relentless, capturing every moment of her exit. But she held her head high, knowing that she had someone waiting for her at home who loved her unconditionally. The drive home was filled with a mixture of relief and anticipation. She couldn't wait to see Cillian, to feel his arms around her and hear his comforting words. The scrutiny and judgment from the public seemed to melt away when she was with him, replaced by a profound sense of peace and understanding.

As she pulled into the driveway of her shared home, she saw Cillian waiting on the porch, a soft smile on his face. He stood up as she approached, his eyes filled with concern and love. She stepped out of the car after bringing it to park and he opened his arms, enveloping her in a great big hug.

She buried her face in his shoulder, feeling the tension of the day melt away. "I'm glad you're home," he whispered, his Irish accent a soothing balm to her frayed nerves.

Cillian pulled her out of the gentle hug and looked into her eyes, his gaze full of warmth and affection. With a tender smile, he brushed aside some strands of hair from her face, his fingers lingering softly against her skin. Cupping her cheeks, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her soft lips, savoring the moment.

"Even though it's a day, I can't stand to be without you," he murmured, his Irish accent adding a charming lilt to his words.

She smiled against his lips, her heart swelling with the love she felt for him. "It's the same feeling over here, y'know," she replied, her voice filled with emotion as she leaned back in for another kiss, not wanting the moment to end.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside faded away. In that moment, it was just the two of them, their hearts beating in unison, their souls intertwined. The future was uncertain, but as long as they had each other, they knew they could face anything that came their way.

With a soft sigh, she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I love you, Cillian," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He tightened his hold on her, his lips brushing against her forehead. "I love you too, more than words can say," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity and devotion.

Together, they stood there, wrapped in a cocoon of love and contentment, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would always have each other to lean on.

Some days had passed, and now her and Cillian were in the kitchen together, a comfortable routine having settled between them. The midday sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room as she busied herself making lunch. The aroma of fresh ingredients filled the air, mingling with the sound of a soft melody playing from the TV.

Cillian leaned against the countertop, his eyes following her every move. He watched as her hips swayed gently to the rhythm of the song, a small, contented smile playing on his lips. There was something mesmerizing about the way she moved, a natural grace that seemed to come effortlessly to her.

"You know, you have a knack for making even the simplest tasks look enchanting," he remarked, his Irish accent adding a melodic charm to his words

She glanced over her shoulder, catching his gaze with a playful glint in her eyes. "Is that so?" she replied, her voice light with amusement. "Maybe it's just the company I'm keeping."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Flatterer."

Turning back to her work, she couldn't help but feel a warm flush of happiness. The kitchen had always been a place of comfort for her, but having Cillian there, sharing these simple moments, made it even more special. She reached for a spoon, stirring the pot with a rhythm that matched the music.

Cillian took a step closer, his presence a comforting weight behind her. "What are we having today, chef?" he asked, peering over her shoulder.

"Just something simple," she replied, smiling as she looked up at him. "A bit of pasta with fresh vegetables. Nothing too fancy."

He nodded appreciatively. "Sounds perfect to me."

She returned to her task, feeling his gaze still on her. It was moments like these that made her realize how deeply she cherished their time together. Despite their busy schedules and the constant demands of their careers, they always found a way to make these everyday moments feel extraordinary. As she plated the food, she turned to him with a satisfied smile. "Lunch is ready. Hope you're hungry."

Cillian pushed himself off the counter and moved to help her, his hands gentle as he took the plates. "Always am when you're cooking," he said, a hint of teasing in his tone.

They sat down at the table, the soft music providing a backdrop to their conversation. They talked about their days, their plans, and shared laughter over little jokes. It was in these simple exchanges that they found their strongest connection, a bond that went beyond the glamour of their public lives.

At one point, she reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his hand. "I'm really glad you're here," she said softly, her eyes reflecting the sincerity of her words.

He squeezed her hand gently, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that took her breath away. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be," he replied, his voice low and earnest.

They finished their meal, the afternoon light casting long shadows across the room. As they cleared the table, Cillian wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You know," he murmured, "I’m glad you’re mine..”

After a long day, Cillian and she had just finished a relaxing shower, the warm water soothing their tired muscles. They stood in front of the mirror, drying off and getting dressed, a comfortable silence enveloping them.

Once they were both dressed, they retreated to their bedroom, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the room. They crawled into bed, the sheets cool against their warm skin, and snuggled under the covers, a sense of contentment settling over them. They turned on the TV and started a movie, the sound filling the room with a comforting background noise. Cillian wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, her head resting against his chest. They lay there in comfortable silence, the only sounds the gentle hum of the movie and the steady rhythm of their breathing.

As the movie played, Cillian occasionally brushed his fingers through her hair, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. She tilted her head up to look at him, a soft smile playing on her lips. He met her gaze, his eyes warm and full of love. She shifted slightly, feeling the warmth of the sheets against her skin as she moved to sit on Cillian's lap. His cock wrapped in the thin layer of a soft polyester pressed against her inner thighs, his body radiating a comforting heat that enveloped her as she settled into his embrace.

Cillian's breath caught in his throat as her thighs applied just enough pressure to elicit a response from his now throbbing cock. He shifted uncomfortably under her, his body betraying him in the most deliciously agonizing way.

"Cill..." she murmured softly, her voice a gentle whisper that sent a shiver down his spine. "I can feel you throbbing..."

His face flushed bright red, embarrassment and desire warring within him. "I know," he admitted, his voice strained with restraint. "I can't help it... but it's fuckin’ hard not to be hard when you're on top of me like this..."

Feeling his discomfort, she slid off his lap, her movements careful and deliberate. He grunted softly, the loss of her weight leaving him feeling strangely empty. She pulled back the covers, her eyes drawn to his predicament, his cock pitching a tent in his boxer briefs. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight, arousal pooling low in her belly at the thought of him, so achingly hard and desperate for her attention. She could see the head twitching, a damp stain where his pre-come was dripping from, evidence of his arousal and need.

"It fucking hurts," he confessed, his voice strained as he bit down on his lip, trying to hold back the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

Without a word, she reached out, her fingers trailing lightly over the fabric of his boxer briefs, feeling the heat radiating from his straining cock. She could feel his pulse racing beneath her touch, his need palpable in the air between them. His hips were bucking up towards her hands.

“You’re a needy lil’ thang aren’t yah?”

Gently, she tugged down his boxer briefs, freeing his throbbing cock from its confines. He hissed softly at the sudden exposure, his arousal on full display for her to see. Without hesitation, she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, her tongue darting out to taste the salty sweetness of his pre-cum.

Cillian's breath caught in his throat, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as pleasure washed over him in waves. "God, please," he pleaded, his voice hoarse with need. "I need you, love... please..."

Her tongue danced around the tip of his cock, teasing and testing, exploring every sensitive nerve. She took her time, savoring the salty taste of his pre-come, her touch both gentle and deliberate. Today, she wanted to hear him pant, beg, whine, and break. This side of her emerged on certain days, a side that reveled in having Cillian at her mercy. Cillian's hands were pressed against his face, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But it was a losing battle. He couldn't help the soft, desperate sounds escaping his lips as her tongue worked its magic on him.

"God, love, please..." he whispered, his voice trembling with need.

Ignoring his pleas for now, she continued her slow, torturous ministrations. She flicked her tongue over the sensitive slit, then swirled it around the head, before taking him just an inch into her mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, and Cillian's hips bucked involuntarily. She let out a soft, pleased hum as she felt him twitch against her tongue, and it vibrated around him, sending a shiver through his entire body. Slowly, she began to take more of him into her mouth, inch by inch, until her lips were stretched around him, and he was pressing against the back of her throat.

Cillian's hands moved to her hair, threading his fingers through it and holding on for dear life. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he fought to keep from thrusting up into her mouth. The feeling of her hot, wet mouth around him was almost too much to bear.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're so fuckin’ good at this."

She took him even deeper, relaxing her throat to accommodate him, her nose brushing against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. She could feel his body tensing, his muscles straining as he fought to hold back his climax. She pulled back slightly, her tongue still swirling around him, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him hard. Cillian let out a strangled cry, his grip tightening in her hair. He was close, so close, and she knew it.

Determined to push him over the edge, she increased her pace, bobbing her head up and down, taking him as deep as she could with each movement. The room was filled with the lewd sounds of her mouth working on him, and his increasingly desperate gasps and groans.

"Please, love, I can't... I'm gonna..." he panted, his voice breaking.

And then he was there, his body tensing, his hips bucking as he came hard, spilling into her mouth. She swallowed every drop, her tongue still working to prolong his pleasure, to milk every last bit of his orgasm. Cillian's hands fell from her hair, his body collapsing back against the bed, utterly spent. She released him gently, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock before crawling back up to lie beside him, her own arousal thrumming through her veins.

Turning to look at his flushed face and listening to his panting breaths, she felt a renewed wave of desire wash over her. She wanted more, but would he be able to survive it? There was only one way to find out.

“You’re so good for me, Cill, so good for me,” she murmured, her voice a husky whisper in the quiet room.

Her hand moved slowly to his semi-soft cock, which lay against his abdomen. Her thumb traced circles around the head, collecting the beads of cum and spreading them along his length. He let out a soft She began rubbing her thumb against his slit once again, watching his every move with an almost predatory intensity.

Cillian groaned, his eyes fluttering closed as he buried his face in the soft nape of her neck. "B-baby... you’re gonna kill me if you do that again," he groaned, his voice laced with both exhaustion and undeniable arousal.

Cillian threw his head back as her thumb continued its slow, deliberate movements on his already weak, fragile, and sensitive cock head. His body trembled under her touch, each gentle stroke sending waves of electricity through him. He buried his face into her chest, his soft and begging moans filling the air, creating a symphony of desperation and need.

"Please," he whispered, his voice muffled against her skin. "I can't... I can't take much more."

Her hand started to move slowly up and down his shaft, each stroke a tantalizing mix of pleasure and pain. She chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through her chest as she hummed a tune, the melody wrapping around them both in the intimate setting.

“You’re already a mess,” she teased, her voice a sultry whisper. “Come on, make a bigger one for me, eh?”

His body shuddered at her words, the raw need in her tone making his cock twitch in her grasp. “I-I can’t... it’s too much,” he gasped, his voice a broken plea. She smiled, a wicked glint in her eye as she continued her slow torture, her hand squeezing gently at the base before gliding up to the sensitive head again. His hands clutched at her back, his nails digging into her skin as he tried to hold on, tried to control the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. But her touch was relentless, each stroke, each caress pushing him closer to the edge.

“You’re going to come for me again,” she whispered, her voice a command wrapped in velvet. “And you’re going to love it.”

Cillian’s breath hitched, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. But he couldn’t deny her, couldn’t resist the pull of her words, the promise of cumming in her hand. “Please,” he moaned, his voice barely a whisper. “Please, make me come.”

Her hand moved faster, her strokes more insistent, driving him towards the brink with a skill that left him breathless. “That’s it, love,” she encouraged, her lips brushing against his ear. “Cum in my hand, yeah…that’s it you slut.”

With a final, desperate cry, Cillian’s body convulsed, his cock pulsing in her hand as he came hard, his cum painting her hand and his abdomen in a white, hot, and sticky spurts. He buried his face deeper into her chest, his moans muffled but no less intense. She continued to stroke him through his orgasm, milking every last drop from him until he was a shaking, trembling mess in her arms. “Good boy,” she murmured, her voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “You did so well~…”

His breathing was erratic, chest heaving as he tried to regain control, but it didn't matter. She clearly wanted more. Her intentions were unmistakable, and the desire in her eyes left him both helpless and exhilarated. His mouth hung open, a desperate gasp escaping his lips as he practically drooled on her chest, the dampness seeping through her thin shirt and onto her skin. It was a sight that drove her wild, seeing him so utterly undone by her touch.

"Honey, I'm-ima old man... you can't ju-"

She cut him off mid-sentence, her hand wrapping around his sensitive cock again. This time, her strokes were slow and deliberate, each movement designed to drive him insane. His protests died on his lips, replaced by a low, guttural moan that seemed to come from the depths of his soul.

“Yeah..but you’re also a fuckin’ slut whose begging for more”

His eyes fluttered shut, his body trembling under her touch. "Fuck... you're killin' me," he groaned, his accent thick with desire and exhaustion. He tried to hold on, tried to resist the overwhelming sensations, but it was futile. She had him completely at her mercy.

Her hand continued its slow, torturous rhythm, the slick sound of her strokes filling the air. She watched his face intently, relishing every twitch, every gasp, every whimper that escaped his lips. "You're so good for me," she murmured, her thumb brushing over his leaking slit, making him shudder. "Just one more time, love. You can do it."

His head fell back, mouth open wide as he panted and moaned. He could feel his release building again, the pleasure almost too intense to bear. "I... I can't... it's too much," he choked out, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yes, you can," she insisted, her strokes becoming a fraction faster, her grip just a bit tighter. "Come for me again”

His eyes flew open, locking onto hers as his release approached. With a strangled cry, he came, his cum spilling over her hand in hot, sticky ropes. She continued to stroke him through his orgasm, drawing out every last drop until he was a quivering, whimpering mess.

"That's it, love," she soothed, her voice like honey. "You're perfect."

He collapsed against her, completely spent. His breathing was ragged, his body slick with sweat.

She leaned in close, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, "Baby... I'm so fuckin' wet from watchin' you come so much..."

Cillian's mind raced, her words sending a jolt of electricity through his body. Despite the exhaustion from his recent climax, his cock began to stir again, the thought of her arousal igniting a primal hunger within him. He glanced down at her, his eyes darkening with renewed desire. He could practically taste her, the anticipation making his mouth water.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice rough and low. "You don't know what you do to me."

With a sudden burst of energy, he flipped her onto her back, his body hovering over hers. His eyes locked onto hers, a mix of lust and adoration swirling in their depths. "I need to taste you," he growled, his Irish accent adding a delicious edge to his words. "Like it's my last meal."

She shivered with anticipation, her body responding to his intensity. He kissed his way down her body, each touch of his lips a promise of what was to come. When he reached her hips, he paused, looking up at her with a smoldering gaze before hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties and sliding them down. Her wetness caused her cunt to practically glisten under the light. Cillian settled between her legs, his breath hot against her inner thighs. He inhaled deeply, the scent of her arousal driving him wild. With a groan of pure need, he finally dipped his head, his tongue darting out to taste her. She gasped, her hands gripping the sheets as his tongue explored her folds, savoring every drop of her essence.

His movements were slow and deliberate at first, savoring her taste and the way she writhed beneath him. But as her moans grew louder and her hips began to buck, he increased his pace, his tongue moving with a fervent intensity. He latched onto her clit, sucking gently before flicking it with his tongue, driving her closer to the edge. Cillian didn't want to let up. With a determined glint in his eyes, he gently pulled her legs over his shoulders, angling her hips to grant him even deeper access. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to savor every drop. The sheer pleasure of it had his cock throbbing with need, the hardness almost painful. He couldn't resist the urge any longer.

With his left hand, he moved to grasp his twitching cock, the contact sending shivers down his spine. He began to stroke himself in time with the rhythm of his tongue on her, his moans mingling with hers, creating a symphony of shared pleasure. His mouth worked diligently, his tongue exploring her depths with fervent hunger. The taste of her arousal was intoxicating, driving him to delve deeper, to lick harder. He groaned softly against her, the vibrations causing her to gasp and arch her back. Drool mixed with her juices as he devoured her, his need for her evident in every lick and suck. He stroked his cock faster, the slick sounds of his hand moving over his shaft adding to the erotic atmosphere. His breaths came in hot, heavy pants, each exhale fanning over her sensitive skin and sending tremors through her body.

She writhed beneath him, her hands gripping the sheets tightly, her moans growing louder with each passing second. "Cillian... please..." she whimpered, her voice thick with desire.

He responded by increasing his efforts, his tongue moving with a relentless pace as his hand continued to work his cock. The dual sensations were driving him to the brink of madness, his own moans becoming more desperate as he chased his release.

"Fuck, you're so good," he groaned against her, his words muffled by her flesh. His own pleasure built to a crescendo, the sensation of her wetness on his tongue combined with the tight grip of his hand on his cock pushing him closer to the edge.

Her body tensed beneath him, her moans reaching a fever pitch as she approached her climax. The taste of her arousal became more potent, spurring him on. With a final, deep suck on her clit, she came undone, her orgasm crashing over her in powerful waves. He growled against her, the vibrations sending her over the edge. Cillian didn't stop, his tongue continuing to lap up every drop of her juices, prolonging her pleasure until she was a trembling, gasping mess.

Her cries of ecstasy were music to his ears, the sight of her in the throes of pleasure pushing him over the edge. He groaned loudly, his own release spilling over his hand as he continued to stroke himself through the aftershocks. Cillian's body trembled with the force of his orgasm, his mouth never leaving her, savoring the final moments of their shared bliss. As the waves of pleasure subsided, he finally pulled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He moved up to lie beside her, their bodies slick with sweat and arousal.

Cillian looked at her while panting heavily, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He had already come four times by this point, each release more intense than the last. God, she knew exactly how to touch him, how to unravel him in ways he never thought possible. But now, it was his turn. His turn to make her the moaning mess, to make her forget everything but the pleasure he could give.

"Yet here you are, a moanin’ mess," he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle despite the intensity in his eyes. "You know how to make me crumble, but only temporarily. However, I can fuck you 'til you forget you know your name, love."

His Irish accent, thick with arousal, sent a shiver down her spine. The promise in his words was clear, and she felt a surge of anticipation wash over her. Cillian leaned in, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that left her breathless. With a swift, practiced motion, he flipped her onto her back, positioning himself above her. The look in his eyes was one of pure dominance, a primal hunger that made her heart race. He paused for a moment, letting the anticipation build, before sliding his hand down to her messy and sticky cunt. She was already a mess from his feast a minute ago but her body was eager for more.

Cillian's fingers teased her clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made her hips buck. He watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered shut, her mouth falling open in a silent moan. "You like that, don’t you?" he whispered, his voice a husky murmur in her ear.

His fingers brushed lightly against her folds, eliciting a soft gasp from her lips. He marveled at the slickness of her arousal, his own desire growing with each passing moment. His fingers knowing exactly where to go to drive her wild with need. He circled her clit with feather-light touches, teasing her with the promise of pleasure to come. Her hips bucked against his hand, seeking more contact, more friction. He increased the pressure of his touch as he began to stroke her clit in earnest. His movements were slow and deliberate, each stroke sending a jolt of electricity through her body. He could feel her muscles tensing beneath his touch, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

But Cillian wasn't satisfied with just teasing her clit. He wanted to explore every inch of her, to drive her to the brink of ecstasy and beyond. With practiced skill, he slid one finger inside her, feeling her walls clench around him as he began to move. He set a relentless pace, his finger plunging in and out of her with a rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart. Her moans filled the air, a symphony of pleasure that drove him wild with desire. He added a second finger, stretching her to accommodate his girth, and she cried out in ecstasy as he filled her completely. His thumb continued to stroke her clit, adding an extra layer of sensation that pushed her ever closer to the edge.

Cillian could feel her climax building, her body trembling with the effort of holding back. But he wasn't about to let her off that easily. With a wicked grin, he curled his fingers inside her, hitting that sweet spot that sent her careening over the edge. She came with a scream, her body convulsing with the force of her release. Cillian didn't let up, his fingers continuing to pump in and out of her until she was a trembling, quivering mess. Only then did he withdraw his hand, his own arousal burning hot and fierce. Cillian watched her, a satisfied smirk on his lips, as he slowly withdrew his fingers and brought them to his mouth, tasting her essence.

But he wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. He positioned himself between her legs, his cock hard and throbbing with need. He guided himself to her entrance, pausing for a moment to look into her eyes. "Ready for more?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

Her answer was a breathless yes, and with that, he thrust into her, filling her completely. She gasped, her hands clutching at the sheets as he began to move, each thrust deep and deliberate. The pace was slow at first, teasing, but he quickly picked up speed, driving into her with a force that made her cry out. Cillian's hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer with each thrust. He could feel her tightening around him, her second orgasm building rapidly. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss as he drove her higher and higher.

When she finally came, it was with a scream that echoed through the room, her body shaking with the force of her climax. Cillian followed soon after, his own release hitting him like a freight train. He groaned her name, his body tensing as he spilled into her, the pleasure overwhelming him. They collapsed together, panting and spent, their bodies tangled in the aftermath of their passion. He pressed soft kisses to her forehead, her temples, her cheeks, savoring the intimacy of the moment. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, telling her how much he loved her, how she was his everything. She melted into his embrace, feeling safe and cherished in his arms.

He ran his fingers gently through her hair, his touch tender and loving. "You were amazing," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. "I love you so much."

She smiled up at him, her eyes filled with love and contentment. "I love you too," she replied, her voice soft and filled with warmth. "That was... incredible."

Cillian leaned down to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. He wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped in her arms, lost in the moment. But he knew that they couldn't stay like this forever. Reluctantly, he began to move, untangling their bodies and sitting up. He reached for the blanket, pulling it over their bodies to ward off the chill that had settled over them. He then turned his attention to her, his gaze soft and affectionate.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, a smile playing at her lips. "No, I'm fine," she reassured him. "You were perfect."

Cillian's relief was palpable, and he leaned down to kiss her again, his lips lingering against hers. They stayed like that for a long moment, lost in each other's embrace, before finally settling back against the pillows, their bodies still entwined. As they lay there, Cillian ran his fingers gently over her skin, tracing patterns along her arm and across her back. She sighed contentedly, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the sensation of his touch.

"I could stay like this forever," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cillian smiled, his heart swelling with love for this woman who meant everything to him. "Me too," he replied, his voice filled with tenderness. "Me too."

Author’s Notes:

I got this idea from a lovely character AI user, which is shurilix. Yes it’s just main message you get from a character that sparked the idea of a series by itself. But it’s really all their idea. I don’t think they have a tumblr but I still wanted to mention it. Also I originally wasn’t going to do smut for this part but fuck it why not.

Credit for the little sparkle smol divider: strangergraphics-archive

[hum4n01df00]

I know this probably a fake but still

[sl-newsie]

Me watching Dunkirk for the first time:

‘Add that to the list of Christopher Nolan films with Cillian Murphy.’

I can’t believe I have to start counting.

[emotionalcadaver]

Late Night Study Session

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: Jonathan and Vanessa try out a new method of studying for finals.

Series: Part 2 of The Shadow Game

Word Count: 1,735

Notes: Warnings for smut. This has been sitting in my drafts for months and I’m so sorry that it took me this long to finally get around to finishing it. I am not a doctor so apologizes if any of the answers for the medical questions used are inaccurate!

Main Masterlist

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“What’s the treatment for a Lithium overdose?”

Vanessa bit her lip. “Dialysis.”

“Good.”

A whimper echoed from Vanessa’s lips, back arched from her place seated in Jonathan’s lap, legs straddling one of his thighs, back pressed to his chest, both completely naked as his long fingers circled over her clit while she whined needily against him.

To be fair, this had technically been her idea. A way to spice up their late nights spent studying for finals. 

“For every question I get right, you have to take off a piece of clothing and vice versa.”

Jonathan had raised his eyebrows from his spot on the couch. “What if we run out of clothing before we run out of questions?”

She grinned wickedly at him. “That’s when the touching will come in.”

She tilted back so she could twist her head around to look at him, lips almost brushing his as she spoke. 

“Long term treatment for alcohol withdrawal?”

“Librium.”

She caught his lips with hers in reward, taking his bottom lip between her teeth and biting lightly. One of her hands slipped behind her to stroke his cock. His breath shuddered out against her.

“Benzodiazepine antidote?” 

She stiffened and felt him grin in response. Fuck. “Um…” Her brow furrowed in concentration, not helped by Jonathan’s fingers still lazily circling over her. The asshole knew that was a question that always tripped her up. It started with an F, she was sure of that at least. “Floxuridine?”

Jonathan’s lips twitched upwards. “That’s for cancer, Nes.”

“Fuck!”

He laughed softly as he pulled his fingers away to instead rest on her thigh. His hand came to clamp around her wrist when she tried to pull away from his swollen erection.

“Uh, uh, uh. Those weren’t the rules, Nes,” he scolded.

 Vanessa twisted around so that she was facing him, straddling his lap. Jonathan grinned up at her innocently while she glowered.

“You’re an asshole.”

“What? I thought that we were supposed to be testing each other?” His eyes glimmered with amusement as he looked up at her, head tilted to the side with a look of mock confusion on his face. Vanessa huffed and pouted at him. “That’s not gonna work.”

She pursed her lips, instead leaning forward to rest her head in the crook of his neck, lips pressed to soft, pale skin. She tightened the hand she still had wrapped around him, adding a bit of speed to her strokes. Fine. If he wanted to play dirty, she could play dirty. 

“Disorder with multiple motor and vocal tics?”

“Tourette disorder. Oh–” he choked as she added a twist every time she stroked down on his shaft at the same time she grazed her teeth over his collarbone. He cleared his throat. “What medication can be used for a patient with PTSD to stop or reduce nightmares?”

“Prazosin.”

His fingers returned to stroking her clit, sliding through her folds and gathering the wetness there. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“An adult man is afraid of flying. What is the suggested treatment?”

“Exposure therapy.” He cried out as she ran her tongue over one of his nipples, back arching. Those blue eyes wide and almost desperate. His cock twitched in her hand and she leaned back to narrow her eyes at him.

“Don’t come,” she ordered sternly. He bit his lip at that and nodded. She returned her head to its position on his chest. After a long moment of silence save for his heavy breathing, she looked up at him again. “Jonathan?”

“Mm?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me a question?”

“O-oh. Yeah. Um,” his brow furrowed and she had to bite back a smile. He really was very hot when he was concentrating on something. “The name of an abrupt onset of fear with symptoms usually peaking within ten minutes?”

“A panic attack.” Now it was her turn to let out a loud sound of pleasure, as he sunk a long finger into her cunt, crooking and moving it in pace with her own strokes along his cock. “G-od, Jonathan,” her hand not occupied with his cock traced the shape of one of his cheekbones.

“Thank wasn’t–wasn’t a question,” he choked out, even as he nuzzled against her hand.

“Smartass,” she whispered, replacing her hand with his lips, leaving little pecks all along his cheek. “Disorder with excessive anxiety and worry for at least six months?” 

“Generalized anxiety disorder,” he added another finger inside of her, but she didn’t have the mental capacity at the moment to remind him that he was the one supposed to be getting rewarded, not her. She continued to nuzzle at his cheek, one hand going to fondle and cradle his balls. She could feel an orgasm building up in her, teetering closer and closer with each thrust of his fingers. Jonathan was biting his lip with the concentration it was taking to not come in her hand. “Intense fear of a specific situation?” 

“A phobia.”

Something in Jonathan snapped.

“Fuck it.”

His hands were ripped away from her, and for a moment she was confused and almost hurt by the sudden departure, until he was gripping her tight, repositioning her on his lap, long fingers curling into her waist. One of her hands anchored itself on his chest, the other helping to guide him into her, his hands on her waist encouraging as she sank down onto him.

“Yes,” she breathed out, head thrown back as she halted, allowing herself the moment to enjoy being so full. Jonathan pressed warm kisses to her shoulder, nuzzling at her neck as he waited patiently for her to move.

Anchoring her hands on his chest, Vanessa began to bounce, setting a quick, somewhat rough rhythm. Jonathan’s hand palmed greedily at her thighs, squeezing the flesh. Tangling her hands in his hair, Vanessa pulled his head close, kissing him once on the lips before his head came to rest against her chest, eyes fluttering as he nuzzled at one of her breasts. His cock curved in just the right way to hit her in the most sensitive of spots, making her shudder, head falling back, hair flying everywhere.

Grinding down on him with every thrust, she whimpered at the friction on her clit, fingers tightening against his shoulders. Jonathan nipped at her collarbone sweetly, one hand remaining on her thigh while the other slid between her legs to massage her clit. Vanessa made a sound that might very well have been a sob, a hand flying up to clench in his hair and make him groan.

“You close?” she choked out, feeling as his cock started to twitch and throb. Her walls were starting to tighten and flutter, leaving him to choke on air and grab at her tighter. 

“Yeah.”

Burying her head in his shoulder, she nodded, dragging her teeth along his skin. Jonathan whimpered, back arching. “Good.”

Growling, he sucked a love bite into her chest, one of her hands clawing at his back while the other slid through his ridiculously soft hair. The heat was growing in the pit of her belly, tightening like a rubber band ready to snap. Jonathan suddenly leaned back on the couch, arm wrapping around her waist to pull her with him. They were pressed even closer together like that, and the angle of his thrusts changed ever so slightly in a way that had her eyes rolling into the back of her head, gasping his name where her lips were still pressed to his skin.

“Nes, fuck, Nes,” he chanted, putting a little more pressure on her clit. Her body tensed, muscles clamping down around him, back arching while her eyes squeezed shut, mouth falling open in a silent scream as she came. Jonathan groaned, bucking into her once, twice, three times before stilling with a soft moan, sheathing himself entirely as he emptied inside of her. His arms wrapped around her waist, their head burying into each other's necks as they breathed deeply, bodies relaxing into one another. 

When her mind finally stopped spinning with the haze of pleasure, she was aware of Jonathan stroking his fingers through her hair, kissing at her temple before massaging her back. Raising her head to look at him, though still keeping it rested against his chest, she smiled dreamily up at him, lips quirking at his disheveled appearance. His hair was sticking every which way, chest still slightly flushed, and a few love bites blooming across his pale skin.

He looked beautiful.

“What?” he asked, one arm wrapping around her waist to hold her close, the other stroking her face. Vanessa just shook her head.

“Nothing. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he pecked her nose. Snuggling more heavily against him, Vanessa let her arms drape loosely over his shoulders, eyes blinking sleepily.

“You think that it worked?”

“Hm?”

“The new study techniques. Do you think that they worked?”

Jonathan snorted. “I suppose we’ll find out,” his thumb continued to circle against her back.

“You wanna go get cleaned up?” she asked, stretching up to kiss his cheekbone. He sometimes got cranky when things started getting sticky.

“Yeah,” he winced slightly as he pulled his softening cock out of her, hand remaining on her hips to stabilize her as she stood. A startled yelp that morphed into a giggle left her lips as he suddenly tugged her back against him, looking up at her with those big icy eyes. “Hey, Nes?”

“Mm?” she stroked her fingers through his hair. He leaned into her touch like a cat.

“You know…” he bit his lip. “We also have that chemistry final that we need to study for.”

A mischievous giggle left her lips and she let him pull her closer, arms tightening around her waist. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, dipping his head to kiss along her chest, lifting his chin slightly to flutter his eyelashes at her wickedly. A startled, laughing shriek left her mouth as he suddenly seized her, pulling her down with him onto the couch, rolling them so that her back was pressed to the cushions, his body curling on top of her as he pressed his mouth hungrily to hers.

It turned out that their new method of studying was actually quite successful, if the grades that they got on their finals were of any indication.  

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

Previous Part • Next Part

Series: Part 2 of The Shadow Game  

Main Masterlist  

[awanderingmuse-fandom]

[phoenixkaptain]

I’m in a lot of pain, so I want to write sad stuff.

I want to write about Obi-Wan spending nearly twenty years watching his best friend’s, his brother’s, his favourite person’s kid and how he realizes, even as he watches, that Luke looks like Anakin and sometimes he acts like Anakin, but Luke isn’t Anakin and will never be Anakin. And Obi-Wan doesn’t want him to be Anakin, but a part of him does, a part of him wants that camaraderie and that easy affection and the boy he spent ten years watching grow to come back to him.

I want to write about Luke and how he loses so many people. He never had his parents, he loses his aunt and uncle, he loses Ben, and when he finally gets to meet his dad, which is the only thing he’s wanted for years (to meet and be like his dad), Anakin dies in his arms. Luke sees his aunt and uncle’s smoldering bodies and watches Obi-Wan die right in front of him and Yoda die right in front of him and Anakin die in his arms. Luke would only have a familial connection to his sister, and then he finds out Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments and it must break a part of him. He spent so long trying to be like his father, to be a Jedi like his father before him, and his attachment to the one person he has left in the world would be enough to take that all away from him.

I want to write about Leia and the crushing realization that the man she’s hated her entire life, the man she has always seen as pure evil and nothing but evil, the man who tortured her and stood by while she had to watch her home explode, is her father. That she has that guy’s DNA, she’s blood relatives with the symbol of evil, in her mind. But, to throw away her father would be to deny that she and Luke are twins. And she depends on Luke as much as Luke depends on her, they’re a duo that’s nigh inseparable even before they know they’re related. But, Luke accepts their father, and Leia doesn’t want to accept their father, and it’s hard to get around that. Leia doesn’t know Anakin as a good person. She knows him as a murderer and a torturer and a kidnapper and the man who cut off her brother’s hand. It’s hard to think of him as anything else.

I want to write about Anakin. Anakin watches his mother die due to actions outside of his control, and he blames himself forever. He’s told by the only person he still trusts that he killed his own wife and their unborn child. Then, he stands there, watching as the child who should be impossible, who cannot possibly have been born, the child he’s spent years and years chasing after, watching his son is die, right in front of him. His son who is a twin. His son who is Vader’s only evidence that he and Padme loved each other. His son who begs him for help and believes that he’s still good even after the Jedi Order and the rest of the galaxy and Anakin’s own Master believe that all the good has died. His son who is stupid and reckless and came onto this ship with half a plan and hope.

I want to write about Yoda and how he watches his whole line fall apart. Dooku betrays the Order. Qui-Gon is killed by the Sith, who have been assumed dead for years. Obi-Wan is left as the only other Jedi Master who still lives, but he’s forced to hide on the desert planet where Qui-Gon died to watch the son of his Padawan who wants him dead. Anakin grew from a nervous but excited little boy into the most feared man in all of the galaxy. Ahsoka left the Order before it fell to pieces, and nobody knows where she is or what happened to her. Then, Obi-Wan dies, but asks Yoda to teach Anakin’s son. A Skywalker who is impatient and rash and angry, just like his father. But, what else can Yoda do? And the more time he spends with him, the more he realizes that Luke isn’t like Anakin. The more he realizes that Luke is strong in ways Anakin was not. Strong in ways none of the Jedi were. And for the first time in over two decades, he feels hope that the galaxy can be saved. That the Jedi Order, his family, can be saved.

Luke Skywalker and the heavy burden placed on his shoulders. To be a Jedi and a General the likes of Anakin Skywalker. Maybe destined to fall and become evil like Darth Vader. He stands at a crossroads where he barely knows what it even means to be a Jedi and he doesn’t want to hurt his father, the man who he’s always aspired to be, but the other path is death and betrayal and pain and destruction and slavery to the Emperor. And Luke forges his own path, even though the Jedi warn against it. He tries to save his father or die trying. He knows Vader might kill him, but he’s willing to bet on the most infinitisimal odds that Anakin is still there, somewhere. Luke saves his father with the power of attachment, with the love that Anakin tried to use to save his mother and Padme and everyone he’s ever loved.

The Skywalkers are so depressing. The Disaster Lineage is depressing. Star Wars is depressing. And I am still in horrible pain

[scarecrowsexymancompetition]

Round One

[mushi-dumb]

there's this weird peace and chaos living together when im reading a book. therapy dupe, yet triggering in so many ways.

when i want to escape, i read. when real life gets back to me, it's over. the peace was never here and the chaos is killing me

[everybodyloveshippos]

i missed hardcore drow fuckery!!!!!! i love weird evil cult body horror shit. i missed you

[ghstwoods]

nina hoss in wir sind die nacht (2010)

[remuslovebot]

“Hey, hey I’m here,” you whisper in the dark as Bruce whimpers in his sleep. He’s having another nightmare and all you’re trying to do is get him to wake up.

You gently cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb softly against his skin.

“Bruce. I’m here, please wake up.” You call to him. Bruce opens his eyes. He immediately reaches to you and wraps his long arms around your torso. He buries his face in your chest for comfort.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” you reassure him. You heart breaks to see him this way. Knowing that behind his sometimes cold and dark demeanor he is still the scared little boy in that dark alley way.

Bruce is breathing heavily and once you calm him down some he looks up at you. “My nightmare, it was about you.” He practically whimpered.

You don’t respond, instead you let Bruce continue to speak. “The Joker, he had you tied up in a cellar somewhere. I couldn’t get to you in time. I tried but it was too late.”

Bruce looked like he was in pain. He loved you so much and he never wanted to see you hurt. He hated when his mind did this to him. You kissed Bruce’s forehead and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m not going anywhere Bruce. I’m safe and you are safe. I promise.” You said softly. Bruce nodded and pulled you close to him. He needed to hold onto you so he knew you were really there.

You watched over him until he eventually fell asleep with you in his arms. Throughout the night you never let each other go. You were going to keep your promise.

ꨄꨄꨄ

a/n: so I just thought of this little drabble. lmk if you want to be on the tag list for future fics, just dm me or send in a request — but don’t put it as anon so I can tag you. thank you for all of the support xx

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Falling on deaf ears

Cillian Murphy x Partially Deaf Reader

Summary: Cillian talks about how life is like with his partially deaf partner during an interview.

Wordcount: 1,960k

Cillian Murphy sat down in the plush chair, the bright lights of the studio reflecting off his sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. Despite the intensity of his gaze, there was a softness about him today.

The interview had taken an unexpected turn from his work on the "Dark Knight" trilogy to a more personal subject – his partner, whom he had met during the filming of "Batman Begins" in 2005. She was the partially deaf character in a certain scene and wore a hearing aid, a fact that had recently piqued the curiosity of his fans.

When the interviewer broached the subject, Cillian’s demeanor shifted slightly. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together, his Irish lilt carrying warmth and sincerity. “Aye, we met on the set of ‘Batman Begins’,” he began, a small smile playing on his lips as he recalled the memory. “It was all a bit of a whirlwind, ya know? She was just an extra in a scene with me, and there was just... somethin’ about her that caught my eye straight away.”

The interviewer leaned in, intrigued. “What was it about her that stood out to you?”

Cillian’s eyes sparkled as he spoke. “It was the way she carried herself, with such confidence and grace. And then, of course, her laugh. It was contagious.” He chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to fill the room. “But more than that, it was her resilience. She’s partially deaf, wears a hearin’ aid, and yet, she never lets it define her or hold her back. She’s one of the strongest people I know.”

As he spoke, Cillian’s face softened, and it was clear how deeply he cared for her. “Ya know, she’s taught me so much about life, about listenin’ – truly listenin’ – and about bein’ patient. Communication is key in our relationship, and we’ve found our own ways to connect and understand each other.”

The interviewer asked how her partial deafness affected their day-to-day lives. Cillian paused, choosing his words carefully.

“Well, we’ve got our routines, of course. We make sure to face each other when we’re talkin’, especially in noisy environments. I’ve learned a bit of sign language, though she can read lips quite well. It’s all about makin’ small adjustments to ensure she feels included and understood.”

“Has her condition changed your perspective on anything?” the interviewer inquired.

“Aye, absolutely,” Cillian replied, his tone thoughtful. “It’s opened my eyes to the challenges faced by those with hearin’ impairments. I’ve become much more aware of how society can often overlook the needs of the deaf and hard of hearing. It’s made me more empathetic and more vocal about the need for better accessibility and awareness.”

The conversation shifted to his fans’ reactions. “They’ve been very supportive,” Cillian noted, a hint of pride in his voice. “I think they appreciate seein’ a different side of me, one that’s not just the characters I play on screen. And they’re genuinely interested in her and our life together, which is heartenin’.”

When asked about balancing his career and personal life, Cillian sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “It’s not always easy, I’ll admit. The film industry is demanding, and there are times when I’m away for long periods. But we make it work. We make sure to communicate every day, and when I’m home, we cherish our time together. It’s all about findin’ that balance.”

The interviewer then touched on future plans. Cillian’s eyes lit up at the question. “We’ve got lots of plans, but the most important thing is just bein’ together and supportin’ each other. We’re passionate about advocatin’ for better hearin’ health awareness and workin’ with organizations that support the deaf community. It’s become a cause very close to our hearts.”

As the interview wrapped up, Cillian was asked to describe his partner in a few words. He smiled, a look of pure affection crossing his face. “She’s remarkable, resilient, and absolutely amazin’. I’m lucky to have her in my life.”

With that, the interview concluded, leaving the audience with a glimpse into the heart of Cillian Murphy, not just as an actor but as a devoted partner. His words, delivered with an unmistakable Irish charm, painted a vivid picture of a love story that had grown stronger with time, marked by understanding, support, and a shared commitment to making the world a better place for everyone, regardless of their abilities.

Cillian stepped out of the studio into the crisp evening air, his mind still buzzing from the intense interview. As he walked to his car, the city’s sounds faded into the background, replaced by a warm anticipation to hear her voice. He reached into his pocket, feeling the familiar contours of his phone, and pressed her contact.

“Aye, love,” he began, his voice softening with affection as soon as she answered. “I just got done with the interview, and I’ll be home in about fifteen minutes.”

He leaned against the car, the cold metal pressing through his coat, grounding him. His blue eyes softened, the sternness often seen on-screen replaced by a tenderness reserved only for her. He could almost picture her smile, the way her eyes would light up when she heard his voice. It never ceased to amaze him how her presence, even over the phone, could calm the whirlwind in his mind.

“How was yer day?” he asked, genuinely interested. He knew she had an appointment earlier to adjust her hearing aid, and he was eager to hear how it went.

As she began to respond, he listened intently, his mind painting a vivid picture of her sitting in their cozy living room, perhaps with a book or one of her beloved plants. He could hear the subtle shifts in her voice, the way she tried to downplay any discomfort. His brow furrowed slightly in concern, but he kept his tone light, not wanting to worry her.

“Did it go alright then, the appointment?” he probed gently, hoping she’d open up about it. His accent, a rich Irish lilt, wrapped around the words, carrying a comforting familiarity.

She assured him it was fine, but he knew her well enough to detect the slight hesitation. He made a mental note to talk about it more when he got home. For now, he wanted to keep the conversation light, to make her laugh.

“Ye wouldn’t believe the questions they asked me today,” he chuckled, recounting some of the more absurd ones. “One lad wanted to know if I ever wear my Peaky Blinders cap at home.”

Her laughter, though soft, was music to his ears, a soothing balm to the day’s pressures. He grinned, imagining her shaking her head in amused disbelief.

“Ah, love, I miss ye already,” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. The longing in his tone was palpable, the fifteen-minute drive seeming like an eternity. “I’ll be home soon, alright?”

They exchanged a few more words, their conversation peppered with the easy familiarity of long-term partners. He reassured her he’d drive safely and promised to pick up her favorite takeaway on the way home. As he ended the call and slid into the driver’s seat, he couldn’t help but think about the look in her eyes whenever he walked through the door. The way she would light up, her whole face radiating warmth. It was a look that made every grueling hour on set worth it, that made every probing interview bearable.

Starting the car, he drove through the city streets, his thoughts still lingering on her. The world outside blurred, each stoplight and street sign a mere backdrop to the vivid memories of her laughter, her touch, the way she always knew just what to say to ground him.

“Fifteen minutes,” he muttered to himself, accelerating slightly, eager to close the distance between them. “Just fifteen minutes.”

As Cillian turned the final corner and his shared home came into view, a warm, almost boyish smile crept across his face. The modest, yet elegant house stood bathed in the soft light of the late afternoon, shadows lengthening across the lawn. His eyes immediately found her, his partner, sitting serenely on the front porch, a steaming cup of coffee cradled in her hands. The sight of her, relaxed and content, seemed to ease the day’s accumulated tension from his shoulders.

He parked the car in the garage, the familiar scent of oil and metal mingling with the faint aroma of her favorite jasmine flowers, which she had planted meticulously along the driveway. As he stepped out and locked the car, the solid click of the door echoed in the quietness of the suburban street. Cillian paused for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, savoring the comforting smell of home.

The garage door groaned slightly as it shut, but the sound was barely noticeable to him. He walked towards the porch, his pace quickening with each step. The gravel crunched under his feet, and he could see her lift her head slightly, sensing his presence. Her face lit up with a smile that always felt like a beacon guiding him home.

“Hey, love,” he called out, his Irish brogue softening the words. The warmth in his voice was unmistakable, a blend of affection and relief.

She saw him and held up a finger and pointed to her missing hearing aid, then fishing in her pockets and pulling it out and putting it back on. She tanned to take hearing breaks when she wasn’t feeling her one hundred percent.

She turned to him, her eyes twinkling with the same joy. “Hey yourself,” she replied, her voice carrying a gentle melody that always soothed him.

Without missing a beat, Cillian opened his arms wide, and in a few swift strides, he was on the porch, lifting her effortlessly from her seat. She let out a surprised laugh, her coffee nearly spilling as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He held her close, inhaling the familiar scent of her hair mixed with the faint aroma of coffee. It was a scent he associated with comfort and home.

“I missed ya,” he murmured into her ear, his accent thickening with the raw emotion of the moment. There was a slight tremble in his voice, a sign of the unspoken worries and stresses that evaporated in her presence.

She pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, her smile softening. “I missed you too, Cill. How was your day?”

He sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken thoughts. “Long. But seein’ you here makes it all worth it.” His eyes, usually so guarded, were now open and vulnerable, reflecting the depth of his feelings.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them seemed to fade away. The distant hum of a car, the chirping of birds, and even the rustling of leaves became mere background noise to their shared moment. Cillian gently set her back down on the porch, but kept his arms around her waist, reluctant to let go.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Good. Now, how about we go inside and watch a movie or somethin’..”

With a nod and a smile, she took his hand, leading him towards the door. Cillian glanced back at the porch, the place where he had found her waiting for him, a sanctuary of peace after a day of chaos. As they stepped inside, the familiar creak of the door and the warmth of their home enveloped them, and Cillian couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. No matter how demanding the world outside could be, he knew that in her arms, he had found his true haven.

Author’s Notes:

I had this idea come to me while almost falling asleep, literally jumped out of my bed and started writing. Plus i’m also partially deaf as well.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Currently reading

[vulpinesaint]

bed covered in books feeling fucking fanTASTIC

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 2: Late Night Study Session

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: Jonathan and Vanessa try out a new method of studying for finals.

Word Count: 1,733

Notes: Warnings for depictions of smut. This has been sitting in my drafts for months and I’m so sorry that it took me this long to finally get around to finishing it. I am not a doctor so apologizes if any of the answers for the medical questions used are inaccurate!

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“What’s the treatment for a Lithium overdose?”

Vanessa bit her lip. “Dialysis.”

“Good.”

A whimper echoed from Vanessa’s lips, back arched from her place seated in Jonathan’s lap, legs straddling one of his thighs, back pressed to his chest, both completely naked as his long fingers circled over her clit while she whined needily against him.

To be fair, this had technically been her idea. A way to spice up their late nights spent studying for finals. 

“For every question I get right, you have to take off a piece of clothing and vice versa.”

Jonathan had raised his eyebrows from his spot on the couch. “What if we run out of clothing before we run out of questions?”

She grinned wickedly at him. “That’s when the touching will come in.”

She tilted back so she could twist her head around to look at him, lips almost brushing his as she spoke. 

“Long term treatment for alcohol withdrawal?”

“Librium.”

She caught his lips with hers in reward, taking his bottom lip between her teeth and biting lightly. One of her hands slipped behind her to stroke his cock. His breath shuddered out against her.

“Benzodiazepine antidote?” 

She stiffened and felt him grin in response. Fuck. “Um…” Her brow furrowed in concentration, not helped by Jonathan’s fingers still lazily circling over her. The asshole knew that was a question that always tripped her up. It started with an F, she was sure of that at least. “Floxuridine?”

Jonathan’s lips twitched upwards. “That’s for cancer, Nes.”

“Fuck!”

He laughed softly as he pulled his fingers away to instead rest on her thigh. His hand came to clamp around her wrist when she tried to pull away from his swollen erection.

“Uh, uh, uh. Those weren’t the rules, Nes,” he scolded.

 Vanessa twisted around so that she was facing him, straddling his lap. Jonathan grinned up at her innocently while she glowered.

“You’re an asshole.”

“What? I thought that we were supposed to be testing each other?” His eyes glimmered with amusement as he looked up at her, head tilted to the side with a look of mock confusion on his face. Vanessa huffed and pouted at him. “That’s not gonna work.”

She pursed her lips, instead leaning forward to rest her head in the crook of his neck, lips pressed to soft, pale skin. She tightened the hand she still had wrapped around him, adding a bit of speed to her strokes. Fine. If he wanted to play dirty, she could play dirty. 

“Disorder with multiple motor and vocal tics?”

“Tourette disorder. Oh–” he choked as she added a twist every time she stroked down on his shaft at the same time she grazed her teeth over his collarbone. He cleared his throat. “What medication can be used for a patient with PTSD to stop or reduce nightmares?”

“Prazosin.”

His fingers returned to stroking her clit, sliding through her folds and gathering the wetness there. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“An adult man is afraid of flying. What is the suggested treatment?”

“Exposure therapy.” He cried out as she ran her tongue over one of his nipples, back arching. Those blue eyes wide and almost desperate. His cock twitched in her hand and she leaned back to narrow her eyes at him.

“Don’t come,” she ordered sternly. He bit his lip at that and nodded. She returned her head to its position on his chest. After a long moment of silence save for his heavy breathing, she looked up at him again. “Jonathan?”

“Mm?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me a question?”

“O-oh. Yeah. Um,” his brow furrowed and she had to bite back a smile. He really was very hot when he was concentrating on something. “The name of an abrupt onset of fear with symptoms usually peaking within ten minutes?”

“A panic attack.” Now it was her turn to let out a loud sound of pleasure, as he sunk a long finger into her cunt, crooking and moving it in pace with her own strokes along his cock. “G-od, Jonathan,” her hand not occupied with his cock traced the shape of one of his cheekbones.

“Thank wasn’t–wasn’t a question,” he choked out, even as he nuzzled against her hand.

“Smartass,” she whispered, replacing her hand with his lips, leaving little pecks all along his cheek. “Disorder with excessive anxiety and worry for at least six months?” 

“Generalized anxiety disorder,” he added another finger inside of her, but she didn’t have the mental capacity at the moment to remind him that he was the one supposed to be getting rewarded, not her. She continued to nuzzle at his cheek, one hand going to fondle and cradle his balls. She could feel an orgasm building up in her, teetering closer and closer with each thrust of his fingers. Jonathan was biting his lip with the concentration it was taking to not come in her hand. “Intense fear of a specific situation?” 

“A phobia.”

Something in Jonathan snapped.

“Fuck it.”

His hands were ripped away from her, and for a moment she was confused and almost hurt by the sudden departure, until he was gripping her tight, repositioning her on his lap, long fingers curling into her waist. One of her hands anchored itself on his chest, the other helping to guide him into her, his hands on her waist encouraging as she sank down onto him.

“Yes,” she breathed out, head thrown back as she halted, allowing herself the moment to enjoy being so full. Jonathan pressed warm kisses to her shoulder, nuzzling at her neck as he waited patiently for her to move.

Anchoring her hands on his chest, Vanessa began to bounce, setting a quick, somewhat rough rhythm. Jonathan’s hand palmed greedily at her thighs, squeezing the flesh. Tangling her hands in his hair, Vanessa pulled his head close, kissing him once on the lips before his head came to rest against her chest, eyes fluttering as he nuzzled at one of her breasts. His cock curved in just the right way to hit her in the most sensitive of spots, making her shudder, head falling back, hair flying everywhere.

Grinding down on him with every thrust, she whimpered at the friction on her clit, fingers tightening against his shoulders. Jonathan nipped at her collarbone sweetly, one hand remaining on her thigh while the other slid between her legs to massage her clit. Vanessa made a sound that might very well have been a sob, a hand flying up to clench in his hair and make him groan.

“You close?” she choked out, feeling as his cock started to twitch and throb. Her walls were starting to tighten and flutter, leaving him to choke on air and grab at her tighter. 

“Yeah.”

Burying her head in his shoulder, she nodded, dragging her teeth along his skin. Jonathan whimpered, back arching. “Good.”

Growling, he sucked a love bite into her chest, one of her hands clawing at his back while the other slid through his ridiculously soft hair. The heat was growing in the pit of her belly, tightening like a rubber band ready to snap. Jonathan suddenly leaned back on the couch, arm wrapping around her waist to pull her with him. They were pressed even closer together like that, and the angle of his thrusts changed ever so slightly in a way that had her eyes rolling into the back of her head, gasping his name where her lips were still pressed to his skin.

“Nes, fuck, Nes,” he chanted, putting a little more pressure on her clit. Her body tensed, muscles clamping down around him, back arching while her eyes squeezed shut, mouth falling open in a silent scream as she came. Jonathan groaned, bucking into her once, twice, three times before stilling with a soft moan, sheathing himself entirely as he emptied inside of her. His arms wrapped around her waist, their head burying into each other's necks as they breathed deeply, bodies relaxing into one another. 

When her mind finally stopped spinning with the haze of pleasure, she was aware of Jonathan stroking his fingers through her hair, kissing at her temple before massaging her back. Raising her head to look at him, though still keeping it rested against his chest, she smiled dreamily up at him, lips quirking at his disheveled appearance. His hair was sticking every which way, chest still slightly flushed, and a few love bites blooming across his pale skin.

He looked beautiful.

“What?” he asked, one arm wrapping around her waist to hold her close, the other stroking her face. Vanessa just shook her head.

“Nothing. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he pecked her nose. Snuggling more heavily against him, Vanessa let her arms drape loosely over his shoulders, eyes blinking sleepily.

“You think that it worked?”

“Hm?”

“The new study techniques. Do you think that they worked?”

Jonathan snorted. “I suppose we’ll find out,” his thumb continued to circle against her back.

“You wanna go get cleaned up?” she asked, stretching up to kiss his cheekbone. He sometimes got cranky when things started getting sticky.

“Yeah,” he winced slightly as he pulled his softening cock out of her, hand remaining on her hips to stabilize her as she stood. A startled yelp that morphed into a giggle left her lips as he suddenly tugged her back against him, looking up at her with those big icy eyes. “Hey, Nes?”

“Mm?” she stroked her fingers through his hair. He leaned into her touch like a cat.

“You know…” he bit his lip. “We also have that chemistry final that we need to study for.”

A mischievous giggle left her lips and she let him pull her closer, arms tightening around her waist. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, dipping his head to kiss along her chest, lifting his chin slightly to flutter his eyelashes at her wickedly. A startled, laughing shriek left her mouth as he suddenly seized her, pulling her down with him onto the couch, rolling them so that her back was pressed to the cushions, his body curling on top of her as he pressed his mouth hungrily to hers.

It turned out that their new method of studying was actually quite successful, if the grades that they got on their finals were of any indication.  

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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