#and you can see on cillian's face that he's like

[creature-once-removed]

I've been reading and watching some reviews of Oppenheimer and am shocked at the way some people don't seem to be able to connect to characters who are a little bit closed off and inwardly complicated.

This is a film you need to bring your own empathy to. It isn't actively provoked and drawn out of you.

Which, given that it deals with the construction of the Atomic Bomb, I think is something that should be self explanatory. If you go into making this thinking "Oh I will make people feel so bad about the bombs" you're already headed in the wrong direction. It's not the question whether or not it's bad. The question is whether or not you realize it's bad when no one tells you outright how to think about it.

This movie is incredible for doing this.

[shewrites444]

arranged [thomas shelby x reader smut]

[ i’ve never written about one of cillian murphy’s characters but oppenheimer has me feeling a bit inspired lately. i haven’t watched peaky blinders in ages, so apologizes if it’s not completely accurate to the storyline. ]

[update: arranged part 2 ]

word count - 2.1k

[ summary - the reader and tommy agree to an arranged marriage that suits both of their needs. despite their disliking of each other, the two seem quite fond of each other in the bedroom, especially on their wedding night. ]

[ warnings - enemies to lovers trope that includes unprotected sex, oral, roughness, etc ]

-

thomas shelby was the last man i ever imagined myself being wedded to, but when my father unexpectedly passed and i no longer had the protection of his people, i had to find another way to make sure i wouldn’t be a victim to any gangs of birmingham - including the peaky blinders.

of course, tommy would never have married me if there wasn’t something i could offer him in return - that happened to be a ton of inherited money from my father, and several breweries i now technically owned, and numerous meeting spots that only i knew about, that the coppers would never find him or his family at, during anytime of the day.

despite the convenience of our arrangement, there was nothing favorable for either of us past the business side of things. our families had been at each other’s throats for years and now that my father was gone, a lot of that tension was, but nevertheless, you can’t expect a peaky blinder to not hold a grudge, even on their wedding night.

“see, that wasn’t so bad.” i mutter to my newly wed husband, walking into the dimly lit bedroom as i took off my white heels, setting them aside the now shut door. i watch as tommy began to unbutton his white dress shirt, and i sigh to myself, but loud enough to quirk his brow.

i tuck my hair behind my ears, walking to the bed and pulling the sheets down to prepare for what would hopefully be a fairly long sleep, given that i’d prefer not think much about who i was now standing across from.

“you don’t have to stay in here tonight if you don’t want to or even at all, tommy. you already have children and i’m aware you don’t want more, and frankly, i don’t want any, so just lie and tell polly the marriage was consummated tomorrow morning. go on.” i gesture my hand up and towards the door, watching his blank expression as i spoke in a more demanding, harsh manner.

he walked towards the bed, untucking his side, his shirt now unbuttoned and his toned, pale body at my exposure, which only made my cheeks redden as the muscles flexed with his movements. i may have despised the man for his profession, but it’s not like he wasn’t physically attractive.

“i may not be so found of you, mrs. shelby, but i do keep my marriage duties, at least to sleep beside you.” he says plainly, sitting down on the white sheets before looking up to me with a teasing expression. it almost felt wrong to see him show any emotion besides, well, none. “now, do i have to make you turn around while i fuck you, or can you bare the sight of me while doing so?”

i roll my eyes with a smirk, laying down and hovering my face above his before biting my bottom lip, glancing at his own with a bit of temptation, but nothing i couldn’t ignore for the sake of my ego. “i’m shocked you even asked to touch me, mr. shelby. peaky blinders have always seemed so forward with what they want.”

he tilted his head, his well-groomed hair bouncing lightly at the movement, now reaching over to hold the back of my neck, running his fingertips through the ends of my hair. “would you prefer i not ask? you didn’t strike me as the type of woman who’d prefer to be fucked like an animal.”

“you didn’t strike me as the type of man to wait until we were wed to even discuss sex, so we’re both a bit surprised. have you been distracted with other women through our engagement, dear husband?”

he scoffed at my comment, sitting up and leaning himself down to peck at my neck lightly, his heated breath against my tingling skin, a pit forming in my stomach at the touch he never dared grant me until now.

“you never gave me any suggestion to fuck before tonight, [y/n]. i assumed you wouldn’t allow me to lay a finger on you. this all seemed like a business opportunity, a plan for protection and financies, nothing more.” he muttered through his kisses, trailing his lips down to my covered chest before looking up to me again. “so, how about i ask you like a gentlemen, mrs. shelby. is this for business, or not?”

i shrug softly, glancing down to meet his seductive, icy blue eyes. “i think i’ll be able to tell if it is or not when you fuck me, mr. shelby."

he reached over to pull me on top of him, grabbing the white gown that dressed me and helping me to slip it off my core and past my arms, tossing it to the floor, which exposed me in nothing but my underwear, my breasts falling out of the fabric and resting before him. he took one hand to hold my back, the other cupping one breast and his thumb flicking at the hardening nipple. i feel him push me down, his lips attaching to the bud as i let out a soft moan, shocked by how sensual thomas shelby could be if directed to do so.

i could feel the bulge in his pants growing, beginning to grind myself against the black pants while he fondled my breasts with his mouth and free hand, the other that was once on my back now guiding itself down to my ass. he pulled himself away from my breast, panting softly to himself as the tension began to increase between our moving bodies.

“take off your panties and lay down on your back, won't you.” he said to me in a more demanding tone. i stood up and did so, spreading my legs before him as he undressed himself at the side of the bed, soon leaning down in front of me.

i chew my bottom lip at the sight of the man before me, but gasp as his tongue links to my clit, swirling and flicking around the sensitive bud of skin, while i only grow wetter through his touch and the saliva that collected against my entrance. i reach down to hold his head of black hair, my other hand resting against my chest while he continued to give me nothing but pleasure.

“this… this doesn’t seem… like b-business to me…” i stutter my words, my back arching at every sensitive touch he brought to my body. my words made him pull away, a smirk on his wet lips as he stuck one finger inside of me, pumping and curling it slowly enough to draw a loud moan from my lips before pulling it out right after.

he leaned down and gestured for me to open my mouth, sticking his finger inside for me to taste my own juices before pulling it out and licking it himself.

“neither does this, how wet you are for me. are you sure you want to take back the consummation of our arrangement, hm? it seems you like my tongue, mrs. shelby. do you think i’ll like yours?” he grinned, standing up and pointing his full erection towards me, holding it in one hand as i sat up on the bed.

i blush, getting off of the bed and onto my knees before him. i take his length into one hand, pumping it slowly as i look up to him, our eyes locked when i lean forward and take his tip into mouth, a heavy sigh coming from his lips as i begin to suck him off. he was thick and much longer than any man i’d ever been with, and frankly, if we were to sleep together tonight, i was a bit nervous of how my body would take him and the aftermath of it all tomorrow morning.

“fuck, fill your throat with me, [y/n]..” he moaned, both hands holding the back of my head as he thrusted himself towards my face. i took his cock down my throat, my eyes closing almost immediately as a tear runs down my cheek from the unexpected penetration, moving my head back and forth as his balls slap against my wet chin.

he tilted his head, mouth hung open as he watched me take him down my throat. i could hear his breath cutting short each time he thrusted, his cock twitching inside my mouth as he edged himself through each stroke. when he could tell through my reddening expression and glossy eyes that i was a bit overstimulated, he slowly pulled himself out of my mouth, leaning down to help me back on my feet and onto the bed.

he kneeled down before me, grabbing my face with both hands and pressing a passionate kiss against my lips, his tongue pushing itself into my mouth, which distracted me from the way he was moving my body off the bed again. he wraps his arms around me and guides me across the room and to the dresser, where he then breaks the kiss and turns me around, bending my body against the wood to where i made eye contact with the mirror that connected the furniture.

"i think this is worth the watch, don't you?" he teases, a devilish smirk across his face as he takes my neck in one hand, the other trailing before my pussy, his index and middle fingers attaching to my clit as he pushes himself inside of me without warning.

i gasp, watching my mouth open as he begins to fuck me, hard, against the dresser. the stimulation above my insides didn't make this any easier to take, given the fact i could already feeling my climax building in a matter of seconds.

i rest both palms against the wood, watching tommy's lips trail to my shoulder as he kissed against my sweating skin, leaving fresh hickeys from time to time, marking me like i was more than just an arrangement to him. if anything, this showed me that thomas shelby may not favor me, but he sure wanted the world to know i was his wife, and no one else's.

"i could fuck you all day, [y/n]. nothing fucking... compares to... how good you feel, fuck.." he muttered between kisses, looking up to meet my eyes in the mirror, his hand moving from my neck to hold my left breast tightly, halting it from bouncing throughout his thrusts. "do you feel me as much as i feel you?"

i nod, mouth still hung open, unable to even speak a word as tommy pulled my body closer, his fingers digging into my clit and forcing me to arch my back down, my ass pressing against him and causing even harsher friction between our bodies while he quickened his pace at the touch, the sound of our skin slapping together overpowering the bedroom.

i suddenly feel his arm wrap around my waist, and then the other, holding me so close and his body leaned so far down my back was touching his core. he thrusted deeper, further than what i even thought was possible for him to go, and so much so to the point i was in immense pain, but god, it felt so fucking good. his cock overpowered my entire body, and i felt my orgasm rushing to the surface, fluids leaking out from inside of me past himself and dripping between my legs, his own orgasm filling my insides within a matter of seconds after.

i feel him slide out of me, catching his own breath and helping turn me around to face him. he takes my hand and places the other on my back, guiding me to the bed once more and laying me down, pulling the sheet on top of me to cover my stomach down, my breasts exposed to the cold air. i feel his lips against my chest, lightly kissing from my nipples, to my shoulders, to my neck, and to my lips, once more. he smiles softly, and genuinely, to me, before snapping out of his sappy mood to grab a cigarette from the nightstand, lighting it.

"do you think we'll be doing this again?" he asks quietly, handing me the cigarette. "doesn't seem like it would be a negative thing to add to our arrangement, eh?"

i smirk, blowing the smoke out from my lips and towards the ceiling. "i wouldn't be opposed, but if you fuck me that hard every time, i'm not sure i would be able to get out of bed the next morning."

he chuckled to himself, standing up and walking to the other side of the bed, sliding himself into the sheets and putting out the cigar. he took me into his arms, lighting running his hand across my hair. "we can see about that. goodnight, mrs. shelby."

i rest my head against his chest, closing my eyes and smiling to myself, partially hoping tommy wouldn't see my vunerability.

"goodnight, mr. shelby."

[slut4thebroken]

Cheerleader

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | stepdad!Cillian Murphy x reader

Summary | You finally got on the cheer team and are excited to show your stepdad the uniform, but he has some concerns.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, mildly dubious consent, large age gap (unspecified), wedgie lmaoo, dry humping, grinding, groping, spanking, praise, daddy but not the kink?, technically incest??, ionno what else lol

Words | 1.5 k

Notes | I honestly don’t even know what this is… like I can’t tell if I hate it or not💀😭 Also for legal reasons… we’ll say reader is 18 and in college 👀 (just a reminder though: this is fiction. Treat it as such lol)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Hey, love, how was school?” He called out from the kitchen and you all but bounced into the room. 

“I got on the cheer team!” You said excitedly.

“That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you, baby.” You could tell his tone was genuine, but he was still focused on whatever food he was preparing. 

“Turn around, daddy.” You giggled and he set down the knife before turning to face you. His eyes widened and his lips parted in shock as he took in your clothes— your body. “Do you like it?” You asked, twirling around for him to see the whole thing.

“I-it’s… a little short, don’t you think?” He choked out. 

“Well duh. How else would I do this?” You showed him a kick and his gaze snapped down to where the skirt rode up, exposing your matching shorts. 

“You have to wear this for everything?”

“We have a long sleeved top for the winter time, but yeah.” You smiled. “What do you think?” 

“C’mere, love.” You walked over and stood in front of him, waiting. He started on your waist, then dragged his hands down to your hips, his thumbs rubbing over the exposed skin of your tummy. He suddenly got down on his knees and moved his hands to just above your ankles. He snaked them up your legs, teasing you, until they reached the bottom of the skirt. 

“Daddy?” 

“Shh… I'm just getting a closer look, baby.” Duh. What else would he be doing? You thought with an internal chuckle. His hands moved up to your hips, over the skirt, then snaked behind you. 

“Daddy!” You gasped when he squeezed your ass and pulled you closer.

“Turn around.” He ordered, moving his hands to your hips to start turning you. Once you were facing away from him, he was groping you again and you bit your lip to contain any sounds. “Bend over.” He said suddenly. 

“W-what?” 

“Bend over. You can lean on the counter if that’s easier.” Hesitantly, you obeyed. You leaned down and placed your hands on the counter. “Further.” With a blush of embarrassment, you lowered yourself so that your arms were crossed, resting on the counter, holding up your chin. 

“This is what counts as school appropriate nowadays?” He scoffed, making your blush darken. “The skirt doesn’t cover anything.” 

“T-that’s what the shorts are for.” You said quietly. 

“I’d hardly call these shorts.” He was groping your ass again now, this time under the skirt. “They’re so fucking tight.” He gruffed. “I can see the outline of your pussy.” His thumb brushed over your mound, making you shoot up. 

“Daddy!” 

“Down.” You froze when you heard his tone, then slowly lowered yourself back down. He reached under the fabric where your ass met your thighs, then took it in a firm grip and roughly pulled up, making you gasp and grab onto the counter. His hands settled on your bare ass and you couldn't help the way you started squirming. The fabric of your shorts and underwear being pressed so tightly against you was almost painful, but it made you needy too. 

“Every little immature boy at your school is going to want a piece of this.” He removed a hand, but brought it back down quickly, with a sharp smack. You jolted and gasped out a moan, caught off guard by the sudden pain. “I can’t let that happen, baby. But I‘m not gonna make you quit, not when I know how happy it makes you.” Another slap. “I’m gonna make sure you won’t let any boys come near this pussy.” Another slap, then his thumb was brushing over your mound again. 

“Please,” You whined, but it cut off into a choked moan when he spanked you again, twice in quick succession. “Won’t let any boys come near it!” You tried, gripping onto the counter when he spanked you again, but he wasn’t listening. He ignored you and continued toying with your ass, sometimes squeezing it, but mostly spanking it. “It hurts, daddy.” You whimpered. 

“Does it, baby?” He asked innocently, making you pout. 

“Yeah…” 

“You can handle a little more.” He decided, then continued until your ass felt hot and your clit was throbbing and your eyes were watering. “Such a good girl.” He mumbled, rubbing soothing hands over the burning skin, but his touch was just making it hurt more. “I’m sorry, baby. You know I hate when I have to punish you, but you need to learn.” 

“I know..” You whimpered, then his hands were gone. You heard him standing up and he grabbed your hips to push you closer to the counter. “Are you done?” You asked quietly. 

“Not yet, love.” You dreaded having to endure even more spanking. When you heard his belt, you stiffened. Next was his zipper, then fabric was rustling a little and he reached for your shorts again. He looped one hand through both of the leg holes, making the pressure on your clit get a little harder. 

When he suddenly lifted you up, a pained cry left you as your shorts and underwear were forced deeper between your ass and even between your folds. Your feet were barely touching the ground and you reached back to try and push him away, but he just landed another slap on your ass. 

“Stay still.” 

“I-it hurts, daddy… I can’t.” You whimpered. In response, he adjusted his grip and lifted you up even more, making you cry out. The very tips of your shoes were barely still on the floor and the pressure on your clit was becoming more of a painful pleasure now. Emphasis on ‘painful.’  

When you felt him press up against you, your breath caught in your throat. He still had his underwear on, but he was grinding his bulge on your pussy because of how high he was holding you. His free hand grabbed your hips to stabilize you as he sped up. 

“Daddy…” You whined. Everything was so contradictory. Your ass was still burning, as was your clit from the prolonged wedgie, but it also felt good as he rubbed his bulge against it. You didn’t know what to think. You didn’t even know if you wanted him to stop or do more.

“I know, baby… Just a little longer.” He said quietly. Letting out a low groan, he continued humping you, his breathing getting more and more ragged. He moved the hand on your hip to help hold your shorts and underwear, then took a couple steps back. When you weren’t being supported by the counter anymore, you fell forward with a scream, your whole body weight now being held by the wedgie. You grabbed onto the counter to lift yourself up a little so your face wasn’t inches above the floor, but you couldn’t get close enough to put any weight on it. 

“Daddy! Daddy— wait!” You cried out, making him moan at your struggling. His hips got more desperate, rutting against your clothed heat, making you more desperate as well. 

You tried squirming, but he just lifted you even higher. Your feet kicked around as you tried hopelessly to find some footing, now being completely suspended. 

“Please! It hurts!” You whined loudly, but he ignored you. “Please, daddy! I can’t take it anymore..” 

“Shh… Yes you can, love. I’m almost done.” He cursed under his breath and his movements sped up even more. “Such a good fucking pussy.” He groaned under his breath. 

“Who’s allowed to touch you here?” He asked, clearer now. 

“You!”

“Who owns this fucking cunt?” 

“Y-you..” You whimpered, hoping if you just agreed to everything that he’d give you mercy. 

“That’s right, baby. Your body is only for daddy to touch, okay?” You were nodding before he could even finish. 

“Yes— yes.. Please let me down now.” You rushed out. You’ve learned your lesson by now— you won’t let anyone come near you. His hips stopped, but he didn’t drop you. Instead, he stayed pressed up against your cunt, then started bouncing you up and down by your shorts and underwear, stimulating his cock like that instead. Each time you went down, a sharp cry was forced out of you. You could feel tears in your eyes again as the pain got worse and worse. He started rutting into you, but still moved you up and down, never even faltering. 

“Please!” You cried. He moved you forward again so you were bent over the counter. Your feet still weren’t touching the floor, but at least some of the weight was taken off. 

“Fuck—” He choked out, panting and moaning quietly. He took a step back and removed one hand, making you drop a little so that your toes were now on the floor. Then his moans were getting louder and louder until you felt heat spurting all over your ass. You whined and squirmed as your whole face heated up from humiliation. He cursed under his breath and slowly lowered you, releasing your shorts. He panted for another moment, then tugged your stretched out shorts and underwear back down, over his come. You felt completely and utterly used. But you also felt completely and utterly desperate for more. 

“That’s better. Covers more of your ass now.” He said through a breath, giving you one last spank. 

I fucking hate the title lol so give me ideas for a new one💀🙏🏻

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[mydear-corinthian]

welcome to burlesque

synopsis - tommy attends to this new burlesque club and he didn't expect to see you there

pairing - tommy shelby x reader (dancer!)

warnings - SMUT +18, breeding kink, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex.

notes - rushed, this is my favourite song and movie ><, divider by saradika-graphics

main masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist

After the first World War, the inner-city of Small Heath, Birmingham is not lively that it used to. Loads of soldiers coming home from the war were traumatized; only finding comfort in whores, cocaine, alcohol, and betting.

With lots of men now drinking and snorting on their snows, alcohol businesses, betting shops, and cocaine distributors are now on their peak of their business like the well-known gangster, the man himself, Thomas Shelby.

It was the usual day for the gangster. His family running their businesses and sorting out gangster fights. Tommy is miserable in a way that he has no one to talk to or engage something with. Sure, he has his family but all he can talk about to them is business. With women, he still cannot find the right women for him.

As Tommy walked on the bland streets of Small Heath, inhaling his cigarette, he was approached by his friend, Johnny Dogs and his other workers. As Johnny walked to catch up with Tommy, he placed his shoulders on the gangster's shoulders.

"What ya up to, Tom?" Johnny Dogs asked, a smile planted on his face.

"The usual, John, business," Tommy sighed before he replied, continuing to inhale the cancerous stick.

"You should go to this club, Tommy! There's a lot of women in there, I heard. Just recently opened," Curly joined the conversation.

Tommy's eyes began to look at them. Recently opened? A club? In Birmingham?

He began to be interested and curious at the same time.

"Curly's right, Tom." John said. "Maybe you'll find someone there, eh? Or maybe just loosen up."

"There's nothing new with that, Johnny. There's whores everywhere. What's so special about this club," the older Shelby replied.

"Heard the women there are.. unique. Dancers."

Strip clubs in Small Heath isn't new for Tommy. But it's a bit confusing for him to see why his friend is very invested in this club. Maybe there's something more and special about these women and dancers. He cannot help but think.

"What ya say, Tom?"

After a few minutes of deciding, he exhaled.

"8:00 PM."

The boys cheered and clapped, playfully hitting each other's shoulders with their elbows as they cheered. A huge smile were planted on their faces

• • •

It was finally 7 in the evening. Tommy Shelby was already dressed for the man's night. A velvet red tie decorated his grey suit. His long black trench coat keeping him warm. The golden pocket watch with the engraved 'Shelby' name on the back hanged on the small pocket of his charcoal vest.

"Where are you going, Tom?" Polly asked as he saw his nephew exiting the manor.

Tommy placed his newsboy hat on his head, styling it properly as he replied to his aunt,

"Night with me boys. We'll be back by morning."

"Hope you're not plotting something again, Thomas."

"Yeah, no, aunt Pol." he coldly replied before finally shutting the door.

• • •

The ride was a little long, especially how this club is in the Northern part of Birmingham. The Blinders have finally arrived. Getting off their cars and entering the club like they owned it. The entrance fee lady didn't even bother asking them to pay since, well, they're the Peaky Blinders. Other customers hurriedly gave way and emptied the tables for them.

The club was lit in a red color. Circular tables with lamps were placed everywhere in front of the medium sized stage. Renaissance paintings were hanged all over the walls of the club. Tommy was suprised by this new club, it shows how the owner definitely has a budget for this.

The gangsters finally sat on their chairs just near the stage, ordering up a few drinks before the lights turned off, only focusing on the stage.

"This club is a Burlesque?" Tommy asked as he sipped a glass of whiskey he ordered.

"Yeah. Can't you believe it? The first every Burlesque club after a decade!"

The small band on the side of the stage started to play a jazz-like original song. A woman with a black top hat decorated on her (h/c) hair, a combination of black and white colour painted her tight corset while a pair of black fishnet stockings kept her warm appeared on the stage with a few dancers.

As the song started, you began to sing. Swaying your body seductively to the melody of the song, you looked at the guests. There were a lot of people in the club making you nervous but you decided to brush the anxiety away.

Tommy was widened by the performance but it wasn't the first time that he witnessed it; it's just that he haven't seen this kind of performance in years. His baby blue eyes followed you as you sang, mesmerized by the shift looks on your face. He kept a close eye on your legs as they moved fluidly and elegantly to the music. His eyes lingered on the way the tight corset tightened in your curves and making your form seem more beautiful with each breath. He was lost in focus, taking in each detail of your performance.

You looked at the audience again and now your eyes caught him.

Thomas Shelby.

The man himself.

You felt your heart drop, you know that one day he will visit the club but you didn't expect that it will be today. It was like a faraway memory coming to life the first time you saw him since the war. You remembered the moment that ignited everything between you, helping him with his broken arm in that dark tunnel. You can still feel the warmth of that kiss you had under the sycamore tree, and the letters you wrote one other later that carried shards of your hearts. That gentle kiss represented the silent relationship that has become stronger with every written word and every memory exchanged.

The way he looked at you felt the same: soft and genuine.

Tom had already shown many signs of trauma during the war, but he always felt safe and well while he was with you in the medic tent or on walks. You ended the gazing exchange between you two by continuing to dance.

You got a lot of "woo" and "yeah" remarks from the crowd as you went on singing and dancing sensually with your girls.

Tom began to be curious. You seem so familiar to him but he's not sure where you guys met.

"Who's the singer, Charlie?" Tom began to ask, leaning, his mouth just behind Charlie's ear.

"Oh her? That's (Y/n) (L/n). I heard she served in the war as a medic. Lovely ain't she?"

Oh.

Now Tom can recall who you were.

It was you, the nurse, who saved his arm after a bullet struck him in that tunnel. His memories of the war flashed back, and for the first time he wasn't afraid. Rather, he was somewhat happy. He recalled how you carefully applied a white bandage on his arm with your soft, delicate hands. She asked about how he was while exchanging life stories with him. How you kissed each other beneath the sycamore tree.

"Welcome to Burlesque!" The dance finally ended. A huge smile plastered on your face as you bowed, the big curtains coming down the stage. Loads of men including Tom's gang stood up and cheered, their claps echoed the club.

As you went backstage and sat on your vanity, you cannot help but recall who you just saw. His eyes were still the same; his blue eyes shining as his eyes locked yours. Memories of you and him talking, kissing, walking together flashed on your mind, making you frown at the memory that you hope you can still experience it again.

Meanwhile, Tommy excused himself, telling his gang that he'll be visiting the backstage to talk to someone. They didn't interfere nor asked who and why.

Tom finally arrived at the backstage, seeing women changing to their next-performance clothes. The dancers gasp at the sight of the notorious gangster, immediately covering up their bodies with their clothes. He cleared his throat due to the awkward moment, starting to ask where you were. "

Where can I find (Y/n) (L/n)?" Tom asked.

"B-back room, Mr. Shelby."

As Tommy walked towards the wooden door of your own vanity room, his heart raced. He felt his muscle goes numb every step he took. He doesn't know how you will react if he saw you. Will you be mad for him leaving you all of a sudden after the war? Will you be sad? Will you be happy? He doesn't know and he cares about that.

Taking a deep breath, his pale palms twisted the door knob, opening the door. He finally saw you. Sitting on a circular chair in front of your well-lit vanity mirror, loads and loads of make-up scattered on your table. You were wearing your long black corset only.

As you noticed the door opening, you looked at who it was while trying to remove your earrings. Finally looking at the person, your heart instantly dropped. You finally saw him up close after years of having no contact.

"Thomas..?" You stood up, feeling every electricity in your body flinched.

"(Y/n)."

A part of you wants to run up to him and give him the tightest hug and another part of you wants to scream at him for leaving you just like that.

"Why are you here?" you answered coldly but your voice softy broke, trying not to cry.

"I'm sorry," he spoke up. "..for leaving you just like that. I didn't mean to. I-It's just that - I didn't knew what to do."

As a former medic, it's understandable due to his mental state during the war. But as his lover, you just wished he stayed.

"Where were you, Tommy.."

"I'm so sorry, my love," Tom apologized, slowly walking towards you, cupping your cheek with his palms, stroking your chin.

"I missed you, Tommy. I thought you were gone." you whispered, holding his palms that were cupping on your cheeks, a tear finally fell from your sad eyes.

You tried finding him during and after the war but you failed. You forced yourself to move on, thinking that it was just for his comfort that time and you mean nothing to him now.

Slowly, his lips met yours. Allowing himself to be reunite with you. Tom's hand gripped your side hip as the kiss began to deepen. And there it is, you felt the same feeling when the both of you kissed under that sycamore tree.

He gently pushed you on the door, continuing the make-out session as his fingers locked the doorknob.

"Fuck, I missed you.."

"..so much," Tommy whispered in between kisses.

Your spine tingled with electric shocks as he sucked and kissed your neck, causing you to gasp and sigh with a mixture of pleasure and excitement. With an ache that made it seem as though he hadn't tasted anything like this in years, his lips finally discovered that sweet spot he had been longing for.

Every kiss was intense, every suck a confession of his insatiable appetite, making you insanely addicted. You got caught up in the moment, losing yourself in the heat of the moment as your fingers became tangled in his hair and gripped harder with every pleasure pulse.

"You taste so sweet, my love," he said.

You began to undo your black corset, leaving you with your black lacey bra and underwear, and your fishnet stockings. Trying to undo the stockings, Tom interfered.

"Leave the stockings on."

Nodding, your lips and his met each other again. Tommy's lips were stained with your red lipstick. The two of you ran to the vanity table, your hands removing all the items and make-up that was placed there while Tom began to unbutton his trousers and then his underwear.

You felt so aroused as your black panties were soaked wet. Your hole aching for Tommy inside.

"So wet already?" his deep voice made you wetter.

"Please, Tom. I need you.."

His cock sprung free out of his boxers, revealing how hard he was. He pumped it first with his hand before he moved your panties to the side instead of fully taking it off, allowing him to enter you.

You gasped aloud as his long, thick length began to gently and deeply penetrate you, each inch sending waves of powerful pleasure through your entire body. Tom, at the same time, moaned lightly as he enjoyed the way your close warmth surrounded him, the closeness sparking a fire between you both. His movements had a steady, deliberate pace, and your bodies seemed to melt together as each thrust was delivered with delicate passion. Your in unison breathing and softly spoken confessions of love filled the room, each one increasing the sensual, romantic connection between you.

Your body faced the mirror so he was fucking behind you. After a few minutes of you adjusting to his length, he began to thrust slowly.

"Oh fuck," you moaned.

"You feel so good — fuck!"

Your breasts bounced in time to every thrust he made, and your moans got louder and stronger. Euphoria rushes over you, bringing you closer to the brink with each move. You realized how much you had missed his presence and the way he filled you up entirely because of the pace of that moment. The overwhelming happiness served as a clear reminder of the intense touch and need you had experienced while he was away.

Your head lowered and your palms gripped the side of the bright vanity table. Your head was messy, a few strands of hair covered your face.

You can hear the breathy moans that Tommy let out. His rough fingers gripping your waist as his lower body jerked up, his head rolled back.

As he noticed your head looking down, his right palm gripped your jaw, making you look up and look at the mirror forcely.

"Look at yourself while I'm fucking you, honey."

Nothing but your shared moans, grunts, and skin slapping echoed the whole room. You didn't care how loud you guys were, you just want to think of him and him alone.

Feeling your orgasm build up, you began to let out a louder series of moans and gripped his arm.

"Tom—fuck! I'm close.."

"Yeah? Go on, cum on my cock."

"Yes Tommy, yes! Oh my god!"

"I'm gonna fill you up, yeah? Put a baby inside you. Gonna be the mother of our children, mhm?" he whispered on your ear as his pace quickened.

Finally, your orgasm came, making a mess on his massive dick. After a few more thrusts from Tommy, he came inside you, filling your walls with his sticky white cum.

The both of you panted, catching your breaths. Tom finally pulled out, making your aching hole leak out your shared juices. He let out a satisfied groan.

"Fuck, that was hot," he said, giving you a passionate kiss.

"I love you, Thomas Shelby."

"I love you, (Y/n) (L/n)."

[queenshelby]

Babysitter

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Virgin Reader

Summary: You are the babysitter. You get a call but no one other but Cillian is home. He makes you an offer you cannot refuse.

Note: This was a request.

"Where is everyone?" you asked, seeing that only Cillian was there when you arrived at the house after school.

The air felt different, heavy and charged, now that it was just you and Cillian in the Murphys' residence. He invited you to have a seat at the kitchen island before offering you a glass of water.

Cillian seemed nervous, fiddling with his glass, ice cubes clinking with every shift. He studied you, eyes trailing the curve of your cheek, tracing your jaw, and lingering over your lips.

The intensity of his gaze was felt like a physical touch, making you swallow hard as your cheeks warmed beneath his attention. Gathering his thoughts, he leaned in towards you, speaking in a deliberate tone.

"I am sorry for inviting you here on false pretenses, but I do have a proposal for you," he said while hesitatingly pulling out an envelope, containing five 100-dollar bills.

"What kind of proposal?" you asked hesitantly, eyeing the envelope in his hands. This was a lot of money and you were unsure what he was after other than babysitting his children. 

The curious look on your face spurred Cillian to continue, albeit with a hint of awkwardness punctuating his words.

"Well,  I'd like to pay you $500 to, umm, help me out with something," Cillian replied, softly sliding the envelope across the table towards your direction.

"What do you mean? Help you out with what?" you inquired, now thoroughly puzzled and increasingly uneasy.

Cillian took another deep breath before laying his proposition out on the table.

"I want to have sex with you, Y/N," he uttered almost inaudibly.

Shock and disbelief washed over you as your gaze flicked from the envelope to Cillian, paralyzing you for a moment.

"That's preposterous!" you stammered, clutching at your glass, the cool liquid inside sloshing about in disarray. He was so much older than you and he was a married man. You were taken aback by his forwardness, but in the quietness of that opulent kitchen, you couldn't hide your confusion.

Understanding your discomfort, Cillian chose his words carefully,

"I know you have a boyfriend and all, but I also know that you need the money for your college funds, and I can help you with that," he said, trying to appeal to your reason and financial needs.

"By having sex with me? You want to buy me?" you exclaimed, the words tasting bitter and harsh leaving your lips.

"I know it's not the most common request, and I understand how shocking it may sound to you, but yes, I want to pay you for letting me have sex with you. $500 for the first time and $100 for every other time thereafter. I promise you that this will be just between us, and no one will ever know about this arrangement."

He articulated the words with a calculated ease, his eyes unblinking. 

Now, time morphed, seconds stretched into minutes, as you both locked stares, occupied in your own thoughts, the tension between you palpable.

Finally, your lips parted, your voice tremorous as you relinquished your words to the air.

"Will you be gentle and wear a condom?" you asked, struggling with a trembling voice.

This question lingered between you, a necessary request during a moment that wavered between madness and desire.

"I will be gentle but I would prefer to do it bare," he replied, his voice deep and almost soothing.

"Bare?" you echoed, debating Cillian's words for a moment.

"Yes," he murmured, leaning towards you. "I want to cum inside you and feel you wrapped around me, skin-to-skin," he insisted, articulating every word with an unsettling clarity.

You nodded nervously, consenting to this unspeakable pact, even though the implications gnawed at your conscience.

"Okay. I mean, I am on the pill, so I suppose that will be fine," you whispered, averting your gaze.

The envelope beckoned you, almost as if enticing its contents into your possession. You extracted the crisp bills from within, sliding them into the side pocket of your backpack.

Cillian sensed your anxiety and unease, which he met with a gentle grip of your hand.

"Everything will be just fine, Y/N," he assured you with an attempt to allay your fears. "Now should we go upstairs?" Cillian asked, breaking the silence that hung in the air.

It was as if a switch had been flipped - the room suddenly felt too small, as if the walls were closing in around you.

You nodded, your decision now made, the remaining apprehension dissipated into thin air.

"Okay," you repeated softly, before standing up, unsteady on your feet, and following Cillian upstairs towards the master bedroom.

"Just please, never tell my boyfriend about this," you requested, a sense of shame and embarrassment gnawing at the edges of your voice.

Cillian glanced back at you, his face betraying a glimmer of understanding,

"Of course not," Cillian said before pushing the master bedroom door open. "Now, why don't you undress and lie down for me," Cillian requested, his tone deliberate.

Tentatively, you began to undress, ridding yourself of the layers of fabric that suddenly felt like a barrier between your past and unfortunate future. The eyes of a taken woman were staring back at you from the dresser mirror, and with every piece of fabric shed, you receded further - sliding deeper into the shadows of the room.

The breeze sighed its way through the half-opened window, gently grazing your bare skin, a whisper of cold against the fiery sensation that filled the room.

"So beautiful," Cillian murmured, his gaze caressing your figure as you finally, timidly, lay back on the lavish king-size bed.

There was a warped sense of liberation knowing that today marked the end of your inexperience, a welcoming into the territory of adulthood and womanhood.

Cillian then too undressed, removing his t-shirt and jeans, forming a trail of clothing between you both as he approached the bed.

Discomfort and curiosity mingled together, battling for dominance in your mind as Cillian lay down beside you, cupping your cheek with the same gentleness of a lover.

He moved in to kiss you tentatively, parted lips seeking connection.

The sensation was novel, yet laced with a trace of guilt as your lips met in a timid exchange. His breath was warm and familiar, and you couldn't help but wonder if this was the taste of morality slipping away between your intertwined bodies.

"Look how hard you make me," he murmured in approval, gently guiding your hand to feel his growing arousal, his erection straining against the fabric of his briefs.

Anxiously, you gasped as he guided your hand under the waistband, your palm meeting the length of his shaft. The head of his cock was already slick with pre-cum, leaving a telltale mark on your skin.

"Take it in your hand and stroke me," Cillian commanded, his voice rendered a deep tone by the growing desire as, finally, he slid down his briefs and let your hand start wandering freely at the touch of his steely desire.

Slowly, you began exploring his cock in its entirety, uncertain but curious about the feeling of his shaft in your hand, its firmness, strength. Your fingers played with its full length, gently, not knowing how much pressure was enough or too much. It was so diverse from the fair amount of information you had gathered so far in your young life on the subject of a man's most intimate member.

"Good girl," Cillian murmured, stifling a soft groan as your innocent fumbling spurred sensations that ran down the length of his erection.

The flesh pulsed within your hands - alive, heat emanating from the veins tracing their way along the rigid, lustful organ. With every gentle stroke, you felt the delicate balance of power shifting, the weight shifting in favor of strength and surrender.

A sudden churning filled your stomach, an odd sense of revelation that stoked heat in your dampening loins locked within the paradox of curiosity and guilt.

With a shudder, you released your death-grip on the still-erect cock and allowed the slick, wet residue to smear between your palm and his shaft.

Cillian swallowed hard. "You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" he asked, gazing into your eyes, searching for any indication of uncertainty.

You candidly shook my head. "No, I don't," you admitted and, much to your surprise, this seemed to be an even bigger turn on for him.

"That's good," Cillian murmured, his thumb grazing your cheek. "That's very good."

He kissed you again, more deeply this time, his tongue seeking entrance and demanding your response.

The kiss tasted of a mixture of power and desire, but there was also an undercurrent of fear that accompanied it, fear of what you would become, offering yourself to a man for money. 

As his hand disappeared under the blanket, you could feel yourself tensing up, anticipating his actions.

He gently nudged your legs apart and began to trace his fingers along the thin cloth of your underwear. Every part of you wanted to resist his lecherous gestures, but there was this weird hunger of novelty creeping inside your core, provoking indescensible sensations coursing through your innocent veins.

Cillian then kicked the blanket aside. "I want to see you, Y/N."

His hands expertly slid your underwear down your hips, and there's a detachment you felt in this act, a shedding of layers that felt oddly freeing and frightening.

The brush of his fingers on your bare skin was foreign and bizarre and what he wanted to do next suprised you.

"Beautiful," he said, tracing the length of your slit to feel the wetness clinging to your pussy.

"Do you mind if I taste you?" Cillian asked, a hint of desire daring to taint his tone.

It took you a fleet moment to truly understand his proposition, the intensity of his gaze leaving no room for dispute. The reality of his imminent act set in, making you tremble beneath his touch.

"I-if that's what you want," you barely managed to murmur, your breath hitching as he spread your wetness with his fingers.

"I do," Cillian replied hungrily, carefully lowering his head between your legs.

He teased your lips apart with his fingers before his warm, wet tongue gently traced the outline of your core. The intensity of the sensation was overwhelming, making you sigh and close your eyes.

"God, you taste good," he groaned as he was savoring your taste, sending shivers coursing up your spine. His movements were calculated, his familiarity with this act unquestionably clear as you surrendered yourself to him.

Your breath began to come in ragged pants, each deliberate flick of his tongue making you whimper involuntarily. The sensations seemed so wrong, so illicit, yet the pleasure outweighed the sting of shame.

Cillian's fingers slipped inside you then. It barely fit; the feeling was so tight and foreign that you couldn't help but gasp at the unexpected intrusion. You could feel your body desperately trying to adjust to the new presence, but it was a struggle you'd never before experienced.

"You're so tight," he whispered soothingly, his voice full of hungry desire as his tongue darted into your opening. It was frustrating to realize that he was enjoying this while your mind was fighting a relentless battle against betrayal and shame.

A single tear ran down your check. His tongue curled inside the folds of your womanhood, lapping at your lust unabashedly, evoking gasps and whimpers from your trembling lips.

"It feels weird," you said in a tearful whisper.

You were utterly unprepared for his ministrations, the invasive way your senses were awakened from deep slumber. You could hardly fathom how the forbidden pleasure could be so exhilarating.

"I know it's new, but just relax and let it happen," Cillian coaxed, his hot breath tickling the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

In an effort to comply, you took deep, steadying breaths, attempting to smooth the rigid line of your brow.

You cast your gaze over Cillian's sumptuous bedroom, trying to distract yourself from the growing sensation of embarrassment as he continued to lick you, but the distractions barely helped.

The strange feeling intensified when his thumb began to gently circle your clitoris while he continued to probe your tight opening.

It was too much, all too overwhelming.

"Oh my god, I can't do this," you cried out, feeling the shame rise within you.

The manipulations he was doing down there, owning and enjoying your body without the slightest hint of guilt on his part, felt like a bitter pill to swallow.

"Ssh, just let go for me," he pleaded, somehow knowing how close you were to spilling over.

"Ah, fuck," the words slipped out before you knew what was happening.

It sounded like a pained cry as Cillian continued to lazily flick at the extra-sensitive nub buried within soft, pink flesh and you thought that you might wet yourself by this point. 

"Oh god, please stop!" you begged, not knowing how to articulate the sensations rioting in your loins.

Despite your desperate pleas, Cillian continued his self-assigned, perfunctory torture with fervor, his tongue now demanding your surrender to this uncharted landscape.

"Fuck," you cried out, your inner thighs slick with perspiration, the back of your head soaked with a mixture of pleasure and angst as you grappled with this twisted game of forbidden desire.

"Oh my fucking god! Oh god!" escaped from you in a ragged gasp as the first wave of release tore through your body, your world exploding into a brilliant display of colors. It was an earth-shattering, mind-altering experience with a man who, by age alone, could be your father.

And yet, as the stars started to fade and you came back to reality, Cillian was still there, tasting you, his tongue brushing against your trembling thighs.

"Oh, you tasted so good," Cillian repeated, a satisfied expression on his face.

He rose, wiping his mouth, and placed a single, tender kiss on your trembling lips.

"But now, I want it all," he said, and the look in his eyes told you that nothing loudly whispered into your ear could change the finality in his voice. 

"Is it going to hurt?" you asked, your body growing rigid as you contemplated what was to come. How could such a moment play out when you were so inexperienced, when everything about this situation was a deviation from the norm?

Yet, doubts continued to assault you like waves on a stormy coast, threatening to break your resolve.

"It will hurt a little, but I promise to be gentle," Cillian reassured you, sensing the apprehension spiraling through your body. He traced the curve of your cheek with the back of his fingers, a futile attempt to soothe your worries.

A million thoughts raced through your mind like a tempest in your consciousness. Cillian, a married man in his forties who paid you for this. 

"Now lie back for me and spread your legs," he instructed you gently.

You hesitated, but your overwhelming need to secure the payment for your college funds left you no choice but to abandon every ounce of dignity you had left.

Slowly, you shifted positions, pulling your knees back towards your chest. Cillian knelt between your open legs, guiding his rigid penis toward your slick entrance.

The tip of his cock dented your soft outer lips as your heartbeat rang through your eardrums, its frantic rhythm leaving you momentarily breathless.

Pre-cum mixed with your wetness, creating a warm film over your entrance, allowing Cillian to smoothly press forward.

Trepidation built within you like a crescendo, even as your body welcomed his gentle probing.

A faint sheen of fearful sweat formed between your breasts, and your fingernails clawed into the plush bedspread beneath you.

"It's going to be alright, Y/N," Cillian whispered into your ear, his voice coated with affection. His reassurance was soothing yet entirely inappropriate considering the circumstances. "It's just going to be a little sting now," Cillian muttered, and gently applied pressure, allowing the head of his arousal to breach your untouched barrier.

Searing pain spread through your lower body, and the knives stabbing at your innocence stole your breath away. A ragged yelp escaped your lips as your nails gouged deeper into the bedspread, desperately seeking something to anchor your grip around reality.

"There you go," Cillian groaned in a low voice, his brow damp with sweat, as the first tears welled up in the corners of your eyes and began to trickle down the sides of your face.

"You feel so fucking good, Y/N," he murmured, his hands stroking your thighs with a tenderness that couldn't have seemed more out of place in that moment of searing pain.

Your hands reached out for him, grasping feeble handfuls of the bedspread in an instinctive attempt to regain control of your whirling thoughts.

Cillian paused, allowing you time to adjust to his presence.

You felt the unexpected fullness that remained when the pain ebbed, leaving only the spreading discomfort.

"You are incredibly tight," Cillian uttered while subtly shifting his hips forward, guided by a hunger desperate to obtain more.

As he cautiously filled you, you struggled to comprehend the surreal scene playing out before you.

"Raise your knees up towards your chest," Cillian instructed softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Initially, you hesitated, unsure of your next move. It felt like an eternity of eternities before you mustered the courage to reveal your vulnerability, following his directions as he eased in deeper, inch by inch.

"You are taking my cock so well, Y/N," Cillian whispered, admiration evident in his voice as, finally, he began moving back and forth at an unhurried pace.

A prickling sensation started to emit from where you were connected, slowly morphing itself into an unexplainable discomfort.

The initial intensity of the pain diluted as he continued to soothe you - both physically and verbally - which somehow felt paradoxically disconcerting.

"That's it, darling everyone finds it daunting at first," he comforted you as a fleeting moment of shame overwhelmed the initial shock. "But you have been such a good girl, letting me do this to you."

Cillian's tone transformed into a gratified whisper to his 18-year-old accomplice.

With time, your body slowly started to comply unwillingly, the tightness loosening to allow his slow rhythm to continue. 

"You are so much tighter than my wife," Cillian groaned, as his head lolled back.

His words stung, but the sweat dripping from his brow and the pleasure that silently escaped him were irrefutable.

"I want you to hold yourself open for me. Let yourself feel as much of me as possible." His voice was almost a whisper, betraying both his indulgence and the increasing hunger that he could no longer contain.

Your body responded involuntarily, shame flooding your veins as you dared to adjust your position to match his request. Your fingers brushed against the spot where his manhood dominated your innocence, causing a shuddering wave of pleasure-pain to ripple through your young frame.

"God that looks good," Cillian grunted, his gaze locked onto the place where he entered you, streaks of blood coating his manhood. 

It felt unreal, convoluted, as a surge of indescribable sensations coursed through your slender form.

The burning, stinging sensations eased, giving way to a rather odd feeling of fullness and a strange pleasure that seemed nearly blasphemous to embrace.

You moaned involuntarily - a helpless, almost guttural sound - as Cillian thrust deeper and deeper, your body becoming more accustomed to his presence as each expert stroke filled you whole.

"Ohhhh, god!" you cried out helplessly.

The pain was still there, but now muted, surrendering to this strange satisfaction that was slowly tightening its grip around your thoughts, and quietly luring you into the storm of forbidden ecstasy.

"Good girl. I want you to cum all over my cock, can you do that for me?" Cillian demanded, his voice low and rough, a clear streak of perspiration glistening across his brow as he plunged himself deeper within the tight sheath of your virginal core.

"Yes, I think so," you hesitated, your breath catching as a thousand fragments of pleasure and pain clashed within the confines of your budding climax.

"Good girl, I will go harder now," Cillian warned, withdrawing himself from the depths of your grasp, only to sink back inside with a force that stole your breath once more.

Ecstasy ignited in the pit of your stomach, spreading like liquid fire fueling your surrender. The room seemed to sway around you, a dizzying pleasure that threatened to pull you under, but you fought for control. Each thrust sent sparks of jolting pleasure cascading through your veins, like the harsh meeting of opposing forces converging in an intoxicating dance for dominance.

"I want you to focus on that tight little pussy of yours," Cillian demanded, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place. "Keep clenching it around my cock," he demanded and the sound of Cillian's urgent moans mingled with the wet friction of your bodies, a sinful symphony of indulgence and a haunting reminder of the boundaries you crossed today.

Your hips bucked involuntarily, meeting each of his powerful thrusts, as the exquisite pleasure amplified and your impending climax wavered tantalizingly at the edge of your perception - ajar but agonizingly out of reach.

Cillian leaned down, placing greedy kisses along your neck with each feverish plunge deep within. He bit and nipped at the sensitive flesh, a myriad of light pain-pleasure sensations that coaxed and excited you further.

Your hands reached up, tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as the energy built in electric sparks in the pit of your stomach.

"Fuck I am feeling so funny again," you cried, your body a quivering, whimpering mess under the mercy of this intellectual, ruggedly handsome man who had paid to relieve his frustrations with your innocent, young body.

Again, it felt like you were wetting yourself but this time you knew why. It was all so dirty, so wrong, yet the thought made something dark within you blossom, sparking your unwilling curiosity towards this new, twisted sensation.

A twisted smile pulled at the corner of Cillian's lips. He was so lost in the pleasure that he had taken, reveling in the strangeness of a situation where the girl beneath him was conquered with a newfound desire to please him.

He grabbed your hips, slamming them against his body with every few powerful thrusts.

"I am going to fill that young pussy of yours with my seed now," He growled with sheer dominance in his tone, his eyes as dark as an abyss - crazed with lust and an intoxicating hunger.

"Fuck Y/N, you are going to make my cum so hard," Cillian said as a shudder raced down his spine, his body tightening as he prepared to release the pent-up desire that had been plaguing him for weeks now.

His grip grew tighter on your hips, as though he would physically command your compliance. He drew his body back, until just the head of his cock was lodged inside you. Then, with a growl, he rammed back into your tight, aching depths.

You screamed in shock as he filled you so suddenly, until you felt him butt up against your cervix.

He roared loudly as he erupted inside you, the heat of his release spurring a strange sense of fullness that pervaded your very being.

You felt shame as his hot seed poured into you seeing that you had succumbed to a married man's desires, but there was also a peculiar euphoria that mingled with the sting of the loss of your innocence.

Beneath Cillian's weight, your body trembled as your heartbeat echoed in your eardrums, a maelstrom of emotions coursing through you.

"Thank you, Y/N," Cillian said, breathing deeply as he carefully slipped out of you, leaving behind a sticky residue. Your virginity was officially a thing of the past - sold for an ungodly sum of $500 and an uncertain fate. You knew that you would do this again, and not just because you needed the money, but also because the freedom of being wanted, the release of pent-up desire you never knew you had, the transformation into someone you did not recognize was far too exhilarating to ignore.

To be continued...

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred

[mypoisonedvine]

Part 2 to the Dads Best Friend! Cillian 🥺🥺

anon is referencing this fic but this can be read without reading that first!!

warnings: semi-public/car sex, secret relationship, fluffy smut, l-bombs, age gap, dad's best friend trope

(gif credit @nofckingfighting)

"God, I hate this," he laughed thinly, and you raised an eyebrow as you stopped moving.

"Er, jeez, not exactly what a girl wants to hear when she's riding her boyfriend," you mumbled, and he pulled you a little closer before sweetly holding your face.

"You know I don't mean that," he sighed, "I mean this-- fucking in my car."

"Really?" you smirked. "I think it's kinda hot."

"It's literally hot," he laughed, "see how you're fogging up the windows?"

"Oh, so it's my fault, then!" you noticed with a grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Only 'cause you're making me do all the work," you accused.

"Making? No, no," he shook his head, "as I recall, you were the one who said you couldn't wait anymore, and told me to pull over somewhere so you could ride me."

"Oh, did I say that?" you feigned innocence as you flushed a bit from the memory.

"You said exactly that," he purred as he moved in to kiss your neck, "don't think I'll ever forget it." His hands found your hips and guided you to start moving again, whispering encouraging little praises into the crook of your neck: that's it, good girl, there you go...

You gasped as you picked up the pace slightly, a chill running up your back even with the aforementioned heat. "What's it you hate so much about fucking in the car, then, afraid to get caught?"

He smiled against your skin, holding you tighter. "No, fuck, that turns me on," he admitted, "I just hate it 'cause you deserve so much more, darling..."

You whimpered and held him tighter, rocking your hips faster. "Fuck," you whispered.

"You deserve a big, soft bed," he continued, "no cars or motels--"

"Or my parents' wine cellar," you reminded him.

"That was a terrible idea," he laughed softly, but it turned to a groan as he held you tighter and your walls clenched on him. "But fuck, darling, you deserve everything... no secrets, no hiding..."

You whined and arched your back. "Cill, c'mon, we can't..."

"I know," he sighed, "I know, but fuck, it's what I want. I want everyone to know. I want you in my bed every night. I want a ring on your finger--"

"Fuck!" you yelped, pushing yourself up against his shoulders. "You can't... you can't just say things like that..."

"I'm not just saying it," he insisted, grabbing your arms to keep you from moving too far away. "I told you from the beginning: if we do this, it's not just fun. You're mine."

Your face tried to muster some resistance to that, but the way you fluttered inside was obvious. He grinned and pulled you into him, hugging you tight and bucking his hips up into you until you moaned loudly.

"Fuck, I want you," he panted, "all of you. I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks-- I need you."

"Cill," you whimpered as you hid your face in his shoulder.

"I love you," he continued, and you looked at him again, staring right into his eyes to try to find any proof he was lying. "I love you," he said again, softer, and you bit your lip. How were you supposed to think while he was fucking you like this?!

"I love you too," you blurted out, and you realized that was the idea: he didn't want you to think so you'd have to be honest.

He kissed you, hungry yet sweet, and you whimpered as you realized how close you were.

"Gonna come," you warned with a gasp, "fuck-- Cill, god, I--"

"Say it again," he pleaded, barely breaking away from the kiss but still opening his eyes to look at you this close.

"I love you," you moaned out again, "fuck, I love you-- yes!"

You started to shake all over, and he held you close as he fucked you through it. "So beautiful," he praised as he watched you fall apart, desperate moans getting louder than ever as your head tilted back limply.

He pulled you closer and dropped his forehead onto your chest, groaning as he came with you-- even through the tingly numbness inside you, you could feel his cock pulsing against your walls.

You both took a long time to catch your breath, maybe both realizing the conversation that was waiting for you once you returned to reality.

"Did you really mean--?" you started to ask, but he pulled you into another kiss-- less energetic than the last, you were both drained and sweaty and glowing.

When he pulled back and held your face, you didn't need to ask the question again: he meant it, you knew he did. But that just opened up a new issue.

"What are we gonna tell my parents?" you laughed breathlessly, and he smiled back at you.

"I don't know," he admitted as he kissed your cheek, "but we'll figure it out. I just can't hide you anymore."

[boiohboii]

Vigilante Shit 《pt.1》

(max verstappen x ricciardo!reader)

Yn Ricciardo is a familiar face for every formula 1 fan, having known her since she was 10 years old as she joined her brother in the paddock over the years, she leads quite a normal life as a normal college student with her boyfriend.. well, as normal as it can be

or

in which yn ricciardo gets through her first heartbreak by the help of her brother's teammate?

N.B: the summary isn't the best tbh... this small series (i think 4 or 5 parts maximum) is inspired by taylor swift's reputation and midnight albums (2 of my all time favourite albums)... I hope you guys like it! Also I left a hidden message for where this is going in here, so let me know your theories in the comments, thank you for reading ♥️♥️ °ps: don't worry, pt2 of the cillian x fem driver reader is coming very soon° WARNINGS: very short, not proof read, swear words, smoking and drinking (mentioned and in pics), 5 year age gap, if I missed anything else please let me know

faceclaim: jenna ortega

masterlist

Liked by jakesven, danielricandynric, ynswife and 89,618 others

DannyRicUpdates: YN Ricciardo gone wild?? The 20 year old was seen tody smoking and drinking right before the Italian GP (not really a hot look, the youngest riccardo looks sick and tired). yn is known as quite the lovely and good girl, her older brother always supports her and takes her travelling whenever her studies allow while she has a lovely boyfriend back home who is always waiting for her with open arms(as documented through hers and Daniel's social media) so what could possibly push her to waste her life away?

ynric: this is ridiculous, first of i am 20 I can drink in Europe and second it's non of your fucking business you dickheads

Liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 183,627 others

ynric: Tous les mêmes, tous les mêmes, tous les mêmes

username: the only 20 year old that looks like an actual 20 year old

username: now hold up, the first picture of her and jake was captioned with not all men... now she has this caption after 3 weeks of no jake

username: you might be onto something

username: I see where this is going and I don't like it

Liked by Dannyandyn, mickschumacher, danielricciardo and 126,819 others

ynric: I regret you all the time

username: soooo, jake fucked up huh...

username: tous les mêmes indeed

username: fucking hell man

username: no cause y'all remember that video where yn and jake answered some questions and he said that he doesn't think she'd look good in short hair and that he thinks dark colors and black doesn't suite her

username: thank fuck they broke up, like sure I hate that she had to get hurt but she can only go up from here

~liked by danielricciardo~

Liked by danielricciardo, Charles_Leclerc, ynric and 1,927,048 others

maxverstappen1: I like it 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

username: max listening to Taylor swift was not on my 2023 bingo card wtf

username: no cause why did he choose the one song that had shit in the title

username: no cause yn having the caption from would've, could've, should've and now max suddenly listens to a song from the same album

username: coincidence? I THINK THE FUCK NOT

username: not him having the song on repeat 😂😂

part 2

[floralcyanide]

𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 - 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞

jonathan crane x f!reader

“I broke apart my insides, I’ve got no soul to sell. The only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself.” “I wanna fuck you like an animal, I wanna feel you from the inside." "You can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything.”

warnings: smut, rough sex, choking, first time, penetrative sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, spitting, spitballing, cum eating, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), face fucking/ deepthroating, nipple play, orgasm denial, porn with some plot, pwp, wow there's a lot here lol

word count: 2316

authors note: if Dr. Jonathan Crane has a million fans, then I'm one of them. if Dr. Jonathan Crane has one fan, then I'm THAT ONE. if Dr. Jonathan Crane has no fans, that means I'm dead. anyway, I love this man and his character so much, so I had to be feral about him. he's so pretty, and for what??? also Closer by NIN is soooo Jonathan-coded. I don't make the rules. (not beta read, we die like men here)

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Six months have passed, and you’ve yet to have any form of sex with your boyfriend, Dr. Jonathan Crane. You get that he’s busy most of the time and doesn’t really hold sex to a high standard like most men do. But god, you wanted him to have your way with you already. Jonathan looks like he was hand sculpted by the gods themselves with his piercing blue eyes, strong jawline, and perfect lips. You’d do anything to have his stunning face between your legs. And you seriously mean anything at this point. Both of you trust each other with your lives. Jonathan has taken a while to open up to you, and the last thing he’s yet to show you about himself is his sexuality. 

For the last week, every time you so much as kiss Jonathan, you get irrevocably turned on. Sometimes he’ll give into you and let his tongue explore your mouth, but then he’ll pull away with a satisfied smirk. It’s almost as if he teases you on purpose. But then again, you doubt Jonathan would do it for this long, purposely depriving you of physical affection. But the things he does, don’t surprise you anymore. He could very well be torturing you without you realizing it. 

Everything changes when you stay at Jonathan’s apartment one night. You take a shower and put on your favorite pair of matching lace underwear and a shirt you stole from Jonathan’s dresser the first time you came over. You have no makeup on, you’ve just finished brushing your teeth for bed, and you haven’t put on any pants as of yet. The hem of the shirt is tucked into your underwear unbeknownst to you. So, when Jonathan walks into his bedroom, he sees you standing in the doorway of the en-suite bathroom with his old white t-shirt inside your bright red underwear. You barely notice his eyes turn three shades darker as you go to rinse your mouth.

Jonathan comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you’re ducked into the sink, spitting out the remainder of your toothpaste. He presses himself against your ass when it sticks out as you bend over. You don’t pay much attention to Jonathan and him being close to you. He was surprisingly clingy. But when you stand up straight and look at him behind you in the mirror’s reflection, you notice his features are much darker than usual.

“Are you-“ You begin to ask if Jonathan is okay, but before you can finish your sentence, his mouth attaches itself to your neck.

With his hands splayed across your stomach underneath your- his shirt, he pulls your hair away from your shoulder. Jonathan then makes eye contact with you in the mirror as his hands travel up your abdomen to your breasts. He gives them a harsh squeeze as he bites down into the skin between your neck and shoulder. You hiss at the feeling of Jonathan being so close to you, touching you like this. You wonder what’s gotten into him but push that thought aside when his fingertips delve past the lace covering your nipples. You gasp as Jonathan circles one with his index finger, licking up your neck and jaw slowly until he reaches the side of your face.

“You look irresistible,” Jonathan breathes into your ear, nibbling at the lobe.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you ask, biting your lip in anticipation.

Jonathan picks up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you over to his bed, where he all but gently throws you onto it. Before you can react, Jonathan is on top of you, ripping your underwear clean off your legs. 

“Let me take care of you, darling,” Jonathan coos, pushing the shirt up and over your head before unclasping your bra next.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” you sigh, tugging at his white button-up that he’s yet to change out of.

“I think I have an idea of how long. Show me how bad you want it,” Jonathan says, moving his hands off of you completely.

The urge to rip the man in front of you apart bubbles up in your lower stomach, and you sit on your knees in front of Jonathan. You rip his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere in the room. You leave open-mouthed kisses on his chest as he slides his fingers through your hair, gripping it harshly as he pulls your head back so you can look at him. You stare at him unwaveringly; your eyes half-lidded with growing lust. After studying the smirk on your face, Jonathan lets go of you, and you immediately go for the button and zipper of his trousers. Unbuckling his belt, you yank it out of the belt loops and toss it on the floor. You pull his pants down his hips far enough for you to get where you want. Pulling Jonathan’s cock out, you marvel at it momentarily before taking his head into your warm mouth. There was no way you’d be able to take all of him without gagging, but you’re going to try anyway. You’ve waited too long for this.

“Fuck,” Jonathan keens as you swivel your tongue around him, gathering his precum.

He realizes he’s definitely waited too long for this.

But he has been nervous about being vulnerable around you. He actually cares about you, believe it or not. And doesn’t want to hurt you- not severely, anyway. Only as much as you’ll let him. 

Before Jonathan can tell you to hurry up and take his cock, you slam your nose into his pelvis, letting his tip hit the back of your throat. He lets out the dirtiest moan you’ve ever heard, sending heat straight to your bare core. You’re impossibly wet, rubbing your thighs together as you bob your head along Jonathan’s length with fervor. You let him thrust into your mouth as you helplessly gag around him, spit dribbling down your chin as tears fall from your eyes. Jonathan face fucks you, and you simply take it, enjoying every second of his perfect cock in your mouth. Your fingernails dig into his hips, causing him to bite his lip as he looks down at you. You peek up at him through your eyelashes, pulling him out of your mouth and flicking your tongue on his head. Suddenly, your face is ripped away from his body.

“Lay back on the bed like a good girl for me,” Jonathan growls, your hair in a vice grip in his hand once again.

You quickly crawl to the pillows, lying down as Jonathan discards the rest of his clothing, completely naked and revealed to you at last. You scan his body, freckles dotting the places his clothing hides. They’re not just dusted along his cheeks but his shoulders too. His back is also covered in constellation-like freckles. Jonathan tries not to notice you studying him, but he can’t help but drink in your appearance too. How your waist and hips make the perfect shape, how your breasts are perked up from your arousal, and how your skin looks in the room's lighting. Jonathan looks perfect to you, and you look flawless to him. 

“Beautiful,” Jonathan sighs, kissing your ankle and up your calf until he meets your thigh.

Your breath hitches as his face lingers at your pussy, right where you need him, but then he goes to your other thigh and sucks a mark into your skin there. You throw your legs over his shoulders, and he tilts his head to the side, looking at you with that sassy yet emotionless look of his. 

“Impatient, are we?” Jonathan asks, hovering his lips right over you as his breath hits the sensitive, wet skin.

“Very,” you drawl, glaring at him playfully, “I’ve waited six months for you to eat me out, you know.”

“I’m aware,” Jonathan says, his eyes carefully taking in your anatomy, “I want to make it well worth it, dear.”

You reach down and rake your fingers through his hair, pushing his head closer to you. Jonathan wordlessly attacks your folds, licking intense stripes up and down your slit. He’ll circle your clit with the tip of his tongue before flicking it back and forth on the bundle of nerves, causing you to entangle your fingers deeper into his hair. Jonathan then takes both hands and spreads you open, flattening his tongue and shaking his head vigorously as he laps at you like a thirsting man. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan, thrusting into his face.

Jonathan sneaks a finger into your entrance, curling it against the spongy spot he finds inside you. He strokes it teasingly to the same rhythm of his tongue against your clit. You clamp your thighs against the sides of Jonathan’s head, essentially trapping him. He slips another finger into you, slamming them in and out of you as the sound of your arousal bounces off the walls.

“That feel good, baby?” Jonathan hums, his mouth pulling away from you despite your thighs, his darkened blue eyes boring into yours.

“Mhmm,” you nod, rocking your hips onto his fingers as he adds a third, stretching you out.

“That’s right, fuck yourself on my fingers,” Jonathan gasps, thrusting them faster and harder into you as his thumb finds your bundle of nerves, pressing into it.

You’re so close that you can already feel the knot in your stomach about to come undone. Your hand finds Jonathan’s cheek, caressing it as his eyes meet yours again. You arch your back close to your peak. But then, Jonathan pulls his fingers from you, tucking them into his mouth as you glare at him. He just chuckles darkly at you before grabbing you by the throat.

“Open your mouth,” he demands.

You obey, Jonathan’s grip on your neck dizzying you. He gathers your slick and his spit in his mouth before spitting it into yours, forcing your mouth closed.

“Now swallow like a good girl,” Jonathan says, holding his hand around your throat once more.

You taste yourself on your tongue, swallowing the spit as you were told. 

Jonathan’s hand travels to your face as his thumb pulls your mouth open so he can thoroughly inspect it, “Perfect.”

He sits up, spreading your legs further open so he can line himself up with your begging entrance. Gathering some of the wetness there, Jonathan pushes himself into you slowly. Your hand flies to his shoulder blades, your nails digging into his pale skin. Finally, Jonathan fills you up completely, his hips flush against yours. You throw your head back at the feeling of fullness, the sting of the stretch turning into pleasure. 

“God, Jonathan,” you move your hips a little, “You feel amazing.”

“You’re so tight it’s almost ridiculous,” Jonathan dryly jokes, his hands finding purchase on your hips as he pulls all the way out, then slams back into you.

“Fuck,” you seethe, and one of Jonathan’s hands find their way back to your throat.

He repeats his motion, pulling his hips back then snapping them forward again, gaining a steady pace. You’re a moaning mess as he quickens his rhythm. Jonathan’s face is leant down to your ear as he grunts into it. The headboard begins to slam into the wall behind you, but neither of you care about the dent it’ll probably leave in the drywall. 

“Jonathan,” you drawl out in a high pitched cry, his cock hitting your cervix just right.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long to destroy you like this,” Jonathan says in between his groans, “I love seeing you fall apart underneath me.”

Your eyes screw shut, rolling into the back of your head as he fucks you hard and fast, sure enough to leave you sore tomorrow. The sound and smell of sex fills the room as sweat beads on your forehead. You’re moving your hips at the same time as Jonathan, matching his quick and harsh thrusts. He’s hitting every spot within you just right, the shaft of his cock rubbing your clit perfectly every time he pushes it into you. You start seeing stars behind your eyes from the pressure his fingers are putting on your throat and the building orgasm in your stomach. 

“God, I wanna cum,” you scream, “Please make me cum,” you’re nearly begging incoherently now.

“Fuck, that’s right, beg me. Show me how long you’ve wanted me to fuck your witty little brains out,” Jonathan says behind gritted teeth, his own orgasm peeking over the horizon.

You start babbling and repeating, “Please,” like a mantra until Jonathan hits a spot within you that causes the stars behind your eyes to explode with white light. You feel yourself gush around him as his thrusts become sloppy, your clenching sending him over the edge. Jonathan spills into you as you both ride out your orgasms, whispering each other’s names weakly.

Jonathan runs a hand over his hair, sitting back as he catches his breath and pulls himself out of you. Your chest heaves as you feel the mixture of your cum and Jonathan’s cum seep from you. 

“That was amazing,” you sigh, melting into the mattress.

Jonathan lays down next to you, pulling you into his chest, “We can clean up later. For now, just rest a moment.”

After a brief moment of silence, you finally ask the begging question.

“Why did you wait so long?”

“I was nervous,” Jonathan confesses, “I haven’t let anyone in, in a long time. And I’ve finally let you in enough for you to experience this part of me.”

“I see,” you say, curling your arms around his that are crossed over your breasts.

“Was the wait worth it?” Jonathan asks, burying his face into your neck.

“I think one more round will make it even.”

taglist:

@baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie

[lis-likes-fics]

Shades of Red

Pairings: Jonathan Crane x hero!Reader Word Count: 11.4k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, oral (m! and f!receiving), fingering, switch!reader, switch!Jonathan, biting, scratching, multilple orgasms, creampie, p in v sex, riding sex, slight praise kink, slight begging kink, slight degradation, swearing... A/N: I just really love writing for Jonathan Crane. Any Cillian Murphy character in general. Why is he so cunty? Just so good. Anyway, I hope you like it! Thanks!

It's busy tonight. The building has been filling with guests all evening, packed to the brim with men and women here for business and pleasure and everything in between. That's why you're so glad to be in here, tucked away in one of the private rooms of the club. Though less glad that you sit across the lap of a sleazy gang boss that you honestly find quite disgusting.

He has one arm wrapped around your waist and the other resting on your upper thigh. He's whispering in your ear, his lips so close to your skin that they brush her cheek every now and then.

The door opens and the both of you turn to see who is interrupting—for you, fortunately. A sly smirk slips onto your lips as you lay your eyes on a handsome face.

He smiles back at you, watching you through glasses, his unbuttoned shirt displaying his chest to you in his version of laid-back. It's a good look on him.

“Why, hello, Miss Cherry,” Jonathan Crane greets you as he closes the door behind him.

Benjamin looks at him and sits back, his hand still caressing your thigh as he sighs.

You chuckle lightly, licking your bottom lip as you do. “Hello, doctor,” you purr, beckoning him closer with nothing but a look. “I missed you last night.”

He walks forward, standing in front of you as he sets his finger under your chin. “Forgive me, angel,” he says, glancing at Benjamin. “I had business to take care of.”

He sits in the chair next to the sofa Benjamin takes up, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. “Speaking of,” he sighs, “I think it's best you run along while Mr. Liste and I have a talk.”

You raise an amused brow, your attention shifting when the man in question speaks. “Nonsense,” he says. “She'll behave herself, won't she?” His hand lightly smacks your side and you nod, finding his touch particularly repulsive but being unfazed anyway.

“Of course.” You smile between the two of them, shifting your gaze to Crane. “Anything that makes you happy.”

Benjamin reaches inside of his suit jacket, pulling out an expensive cigar to set between his lips. You reach inside, pressing your hand against his chest as you pull his lighter out. You move slowly, sensually, in your quest to light the end. He thanks you with a grin, and you look at Crane with half-lidded eyes and a permanent smirk.

Crane stares for a moment. “Very well,” he concedes. He points at you with somewhat of a warning finger, tilting his head to the side. “But you have to promise me you'll keep this between the three of us.”

You feign surprise, setting a manicured hand over your chest with a soft gasp. “I won't tell a soul. Promise.” You raise two fingers in boy scout's honor and kiss them.

Benjamin laughs heavily. “That's a good girl.” Your skin crawls. “See? What’d I tell ya?” He hums, sitting back again as his hand continues to stroke you. “So what have you got for me?”

He shrugs, clasping his hands in his lap. “That entirely depends on what you have for me, Mr. Liste.”

He takes in a long breath, holding it for a moment before allowing a puff of smoke to gather in the air around your head. You hold your breath and stifle your tears before they can start.

“Give us a show, little cherry bomb,” he grins, patting you before you stand. You stalk to the wall, turning up the knob that controls the volume until you hear a song playing through the speakers. You go to the small platform in the middle of the room and take a hold of the pole, their eyes glued to your body, the skimpy clothes adorning you leaving little to the imagination.

Once you've begun dancing, they sink into their conversation, and you listen closely as you entertain.

“Shipments made it to the port last night,” Benjamin says as he flicks cigar ashes onto the floor carelessly.

Crane raises an inquisitive brow. “And you didn't tell me then?” You could feel the disdain from here.

Benjamin doesn't care as he shrugs. “Well, Johnny, me and my guys have decided we're gonna hang onto it a little while longer.”

Crane does his best to keep his anger seething and not explosive. He gets a better message across by staying calm. “That wasn't part of our deal.”

“Yeah?” Smoke billows from the butt of his cigar. “This is good stuff we've got on our hands. There are plenty of other interested parties who would double—even triple the fee you're offering.” He shrugs, letting out a heavy sigh. He looks away from you and points to Crane with his cigar. “Why should I give it to you?”

Crane stares at him, unblinking, his expression the same as when he walked in…perfectly cordial. “Let's just say,” he leans forward onto his knees, clasping his hands, “I provide traitors with worse consequences.”

And you believe that…

You've seen what it looks like in that godforsaken prison he runs.

“Let's just say…” he rolls his eyes, “if you can't outbid any of my potential clients, you're wasting my time.” He takes a smoke and looks back at you, admiring the way you move, raking his eyes up and down your body. Your skin feels like syrup, thick and slimy and sticky and gross.

“Besides, betrayal insinuates we had some trust going on between us.” He chuckles at the notion. “I don't trust you, you don't trust me. That's that.”

Crane sighs, looking away from him to look at you. When he drinks you in, you don't feel so slimy and gross. You wink his way just for the fun of it, just to tick Benjamin off just a little bit.

Benjamin clears his throat. “I want my money by tomorrow night at twelve. If you can't get me that, consider your shipment gone.”

There's a long pause as they watch each other, daring the other to give in, to concede and accept an offer. You see something change in Crane’s eyes as he sits back, humming to himself as he nods gently.

“Where shall I meet you?”

You're ready to listen when Benjamin turns to you, his gaze so demeaning as he speaks. “I'm gonna need you to cover your ears for this one, sweetheart.”

You smile, raising your hands to your ears to cover them. When he's sure you've been deafened, his lips form a word you have to piece together with your knowledge of shipment docks in Gotham. Chesterport.

He pushes off his pants, standing and making his way toward you as he sets a hand on your back, cueing you to remove your hands from your ears. You step down from your platform to join him on the floor.

“Thank you, Cherry,” he smiles. He turns to Crane, letting his cigar hang from his lips. “Twelve o'clock or it's done. You got me?”

You can make out the smallest smirk on his lips as he nods slowly. “Twelve o'clock.”

Benjamin chuckles heartily. “Good boy.”

You just know Crane hated that. Part of you finds it amusing. But you'd find it more amusing if you knew he wasn't going to do something insane over it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Benjamin says, his face inching toward yours. You don't move, but it's clear he won't kiss you. He's big and powerful but he knows the rules. “You and I need a little one-on-one time.”

You chuckle lightly. “Of course, sir,” you murmur. You turn a seductive eye towards your Jonathan Crane, winking at him as you walk. “Buh-bye, doctor. I'll see you soon.”

He nods his head, his eyes dark with an unclaimed desire. The power you hold over these men is a delectable kind of knowledge. “Cherry.”

Blowing a kiss, you spin on your heel and walk away with Benjamin. He's going to pay for a lap dance, and then he's going to leave to take care of the rest of his business. Just as he always does. It's a more fortunate fate than it would have been if certain rules weren't set in place to keep the dancers here as safe as they can be in this godforsaken city.

And once he leaves, you can follow suit to get ready for a midnight appointment tomorrow at Chesterport.

~

Don't judge.

Living in Gotham is dangerous and fucking expensive. Saving it doesn't pay the bills.

If you have to swing on a pole and show a little skin for some extra bills to pay for rent, that’s what you’ll do. And, sure, being a vigilante in this city means you know the Bats. You bumped into him on your second mission, and he laid down the ground rules of you remaining a crime fighter from the very beginning (with plenty of threats to keep you in line with said rules). Over time, you’ve become close and you can honestly call The Batman your friend, but that doesn't mean he's paying your bills either.

Is it because you told him not to? Possibly. But you even it out by making him provide the needs for your weapons and other protections. He's a philanthropist, he wasn't going to let you get away without some financial support. (But it looks weird being funded by the Bruce Wayne when all you are is some stripper down at a popular and dangerous club in Gotham.)

The city won't thank you for helping to save it, but the men sure thank you for winking their way and making them feel a little good-looking every now and then.

So, yes, sneaking into the Wayne Manor isn't unusual for you, and he's never surprised to see you when you randomly appear in the bat-ridden cave.

“Why do you need a gas mask?”

You kick your feet as they dangle off the side of his desk where he tries to work—more improvements on his suit, it seems. Alfred is somewhere in here, but you suppose he's busy for the moment.

“Because Crane is up to stuff,” you shrug, picking up a precision knife and twirling it in your hands, “and that toxin of his is not something I want to have to deal with.” You had a go at it once before…it didn't end pleasantly.

Bruce taps through his tablet, looking at all the designs he has stored in it as he examines said mask. “When do you need it?”

You smile, looking as innocent as you can. But he's fallen immune to your charms by now, no matter how convincing you're trying to be. “Tonight?”

He sighs, shaking his head at your ridiculousness. “Why can't you just make your own?”

You roll your eyes. “Because I'm low on supplies with all of my bomb tech and mine won't be as good as yours anyway. Oh, and you're my supplier. So you're supposed to supply my needs.” When he raises a brow at you, you pout. “You don't want me getting hurt, do you?”

He huffs lightly, looking down at his tablet and murmuring to himself. “Seriously considering it.”

You know he's joking, but it's fun to screw around.

“Shut up,” you say. “It's because of me you have an extra load off your shoulders.”

He shakes his head but doesn't disagree. It's quiet for a moment as he thinks. “I'll give you mine—temporarily—while I make yours for future purposes.” He tilts his head. “Not that there should be one.”

You hum. “We've already had this discussion—and no, I'm still not going to quit.” You hop off the desk, walking around it to meddle with his things. “Besides, Crane is my best patron. What would he do if his favorite hero disappeared?”

Bruce brushes you off and ignores your activities, used to your antics. You have an air around you that drips with seduction and sexual debauchery that he has become immune to by now. So even when you run your finger down his shoulder and linger, he remains entirely unfazed.

He walks off, and you follow as he leads you to the wall of all his different techs. He pulls his mask from one of his suits, similar to that of a medical face mask, but this one is made of metal with respiratory tubes to prevent the user from suffocating.

He doesn't give it to you yet. “Where will you be again?”

“Are you going to crash?” you complain. “I can handle myself.”

He chuckles lightly, it's just a breath through his nose. “I am fully aware of your capabilities.” He shakes his head. “I have my own things to deal with, this is just as a safety measure in case you need backup.”

“Which I won't need.”

You reach for the mask, but he puts it out of your reach.

“Cherry.”

Your lip curls. You always find it amusing when he calls you that. He never uses your real name, always the stage name. It's always fun to hear him say it, so you throw him a bone.

“Chesterport dock at twelve.”

He studies you for a moment before slowly handing you the mask, which you snatch up as you turn on your heel to leave.

Don't get hurt.”

“Never do.”

He shakes his head and gets back to work.

~

Underneath the movement and conversation of the men at the port, the water sounds peaceful. It's easy to hide in a place like this. It's dark, full of giant containers that you can take cover in.

You're practically twiddling your thumbs as you wait there, the past near hour almost as boring as watching paint dry as these gangbangers do nothing but laugh loudly, play cards, all the stereotypical activities of criminals before any real activity happens. You're checking your watch for the hundredth time—a quarter to twelve—and feel a yawn arising in you. You stay later at the club, but this is just boring.

You almost chuckle as you consider taking a brief nap…like that would go over well.

“See? I knew you'd deliver, Johnny Boy.”

You perk up at the sound of Benjamin's voice. You look down from your hiding place, your eyes landing on Dr. Crane as he arrives with a group of goons behind him. He looks as sophisticated as ever. You enjoy looking at him.

He comes to a stop, staring at the man as he thinks to himself. Silently, he tilts his head slightly toward his shoulder and one of his guys steps forward with a briefcase. Benjamin does the same, and his meets the other.

They hand over the case, shoving the playing cards to the side as they set the case on a crate to open it up. Upon the first glance, Benjamin's face screws up in annoyance and disgust.

“What is this?” he scoffs. “This isn't even half of what we originally promised.”

Crane shrugs nonchalantly, clasping his hands in front of him as he sighs. “Your promises weren't kept,” he says, “why should mine be?”

Benjamin's angry now, and it honestly amuses you to see him so peeved as you continue to peer in on the confrontation. “Because I'm a powerful man with a lot of powerful friends.”

Crane’s brows furrow and he turns to look around himself. “Funny,” he hums. “I don't see any.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, the air thick with suffocating masculinity (though a lot of it drips from Benjamin, as Crane doesn't necessarily need masculinity to frustrate him). Then Benjamin starts to laugh, throwing his head back as he takes it all as some sort of stupid joke.

“Alright,” he says. “I'll give you one last chance to deliver the money. And because you're being such an ass, Johnny, make it quadruple.” He takes a threatening step forward, to which he goons follow.

Crane and his guys don't move an inch.

“Otherwise, I'm afraid it will have to get a little messy.” His hand comes to rest on his gun, where it sits on his hip.

“Well,” he sighs, rubbing his hands together, “that's too bad. Because, you see, Benji, I don't do business with filthy men who don't keep to their word.”

Crane snaps his fingers and another man walks up to him, holding a briefcase that he opens. You brace yourself, unhooking one of the explosives from your weapons belt. You watch as he pulls out a pair of black gloves, slipping them onto his hands as he speaks, taking his own scarecrow mask into his grasp. “So I'm afraid it will have to get a little messy.” Behind him, you watch his few men put on masks of their own. You follow suit.

“And my name isn't Johnny…” he says as he gazes at Benjamin through the worn holes of his mask, “it's Dr. Crane.”

Bored with the stalling, Benjamin rolls his eyes and pulls his gun from his holster. Everyone braces, fully ready to start making bullets fly as the tension raises to meet a climax. Just as guns are clicking with the disabling of the safety, everyone pauses at the ominous sound of clink, clink, clink against the concrete ground.

It rolls, and all eyes watch it until it comes to an inevitable spot. At the sight of a giant red ‘RR’ painted on the front, they panic.

“It's Ruby Red!” Benjamin barks. We're compromised. Go!”

It’s too late to move as the bomb explodes, a loud boom! covering every inch of the dock as the sound echoes off the water. Smoke arises from the destruction, and everyone scrambles to their feet to run in different directions, disoriented from the blow.

You hear Crane’s voice over the commotion of coughs and grunts. “Get the cases!” he orders, and his men go to listen as they rush toward them. Benjamin's men follow suit, standing to rush toward them.

But you're quicker.

Another bomb explodes right on top of the cases. They burst open, a good deal of the contents destroyed. The men who are covering their ears to be rid of the ringing in their brains look around, conflicted on their next course of action.

Clearly, Benjamin is not amused. “Get what you fucking can!”

They listen, as if they haven't learned their lessons by now. They move, you bomb. And you do. Jumping down from where you'd been hiding this whole time, you land easily and toss another. It's perfectly nonlethal—you make sure of that—when that one goes off. It, at the very least, gets rid of a few insubordinates who run the other way after deeming three bombs a bit above their pay grades.

There's so much going on and not enough time for a lot of the people involved to process. When Crane and his men approach the cases after Benjamin and his men flee, he lays his eyes upon the bright red explosive and its green painted stem and is almost amused.

“Cherry bomb.”

“Take cover!” one of the men yells as he runs the other way, the others following in quick haste. Crane turns calmly, spying you standing just outside of the fray. He watches you reach for a trigger and leaps out of the way, ducking down to take cover as you set the bomb off.

The sound would have been deafening if you hadn't been standing as far as you were. There's smoke everywhere, some debris covers the ground. You walk past all the groaning men as they try to get their thoughts in order, checking the smoking cases and ensuring all the drugs have been properly destroyed—and they have, but just to be sure of it, you push the rest off the dock. Job well done, you'd say.

You turn on your heel, smiling underneath your mask. You think he's cute, standing like he is with a couple of his guys pointing guns at you. It's sweet.

When you toss the next bomb, they shoot it, honestly assisting you. It does what all bombs do: it explodes. Only this time, a bout of smoke covers the expanse of the air and it lingers. It sets over everyone and makes it easier for you to make your little get away as you hear boots stomping away as the rest of these “brave” souls escape.

“Long time no see.”

You turn, amusement coloring your face—though he can hardly see it between Bruce's mask and your masquerade-esc one of your own. You tilt your head as you take in the sight of him watching you closely. You walk nearer to him, but don't allow him too much pleasure of your up-close and personal company.

“You were behaving.”

He hums, shrugging a shoulder. “I wouldn't say all that.” He examines your little mask, and you can practically see his hidden smile. “Ooh,” he says, “smart girl.”

It’s your turn to shrug, “I know a thing or two.” You reach for your belt, unhooking the pair of cuffs resting there. “So are you gonna turn yourself in or do I have to do it myself?”

Crane hums. “I have other plans.”

“Alright then.” You sigh, playing with the cuffs as you peek at him through the mask. “I'll do it myself.”

He chuckles. You make the first move, stepping forward and pushing away his hand when he tries shooting you. You're hurt, honestly, as you disarm him and kick his gun away. With being so close, you have the advantage because you're faster than him. Every blow he makes is easily dodged by you.

When you turn on your heel and run, he follows after you as you climb on top of a few small crates, just to turn right back and jump onto him. It's easy for you to swing around his body until your legs wrap around his neck, taking another round before letting him slam into the ground with the strength of your throw. You land on your feet, allowing the cool night air to hit the skin of your bare arms and thighs. If only you hadn't had to wear so much protection, the breeze would have felt so nice.

You jangle the cuffs once more. “Last chance to settle down.”

Crane groans as he pulls himself up from the ground, his muscles sore already from the exertion of the fight. He pulls his mask off, revealing his pretty face as a deep sigh leaves him. He looks up at you with those cold blue eyes, examining your body from top to bottom as he does. His gaze lingers on your thighs, the supple flesh seemingly alluring to him.

“Actually, I was thinking something a little more…” you watch him reveal one of your cherry bombs to you, already lit as the sparks go down the stem of it, and he looks up at you and smiles, “...explosive.”

You already know that Jonathan Crane is mentally insane, but it's always interesting to see him prove it.

“Fuck,” you mutter, glancing at the missing space on your belt. “Well, bye.”

You grip a smoke bomb and set it off before his can blow, the both of you escaping just in time for the blow to take over. As Crane stands from his ducked position and he waves away the smoke to clear it up, his coughing subsides when he spies no sign of you anywhere.

But the memory of the cherry-shaped birthmark on the inside of your thigh is ingrained in his mind.

~

“Cherry.”

You turn slowly to keep from disturbing the tray of glasses in your hand. Spotting the origin of the call, he tosses you a key card.

“Room three.”

You sigh gently, passing the tray to another employee as you turn to make your way to the private rooms. You fix your hair on the way, renewing your lipstick as you come up on the hall.

You swipe the card, walking into the third room to set it up for your patron. You're waiting on the large sofa for all of two minutes before the door opens again. You smile at the sight of your customer.

“Why, hello, Cherry,” Crane smiles, closing the door softly behind him. He's not as fancy today, a button down that he has neglected to button all the way up and a pair of black slacks to match. It's a nice look on him, paired with his tousled hair and framed glasses.

“Hello, doctor,” you greet, your mood suddenly rising at the prospect of some alone time with your favorite criminal. “Do I have an appointment with you tonight?”

It’s been a couple of nights since you last saw him. He's been busy, you presume.

“You do,” he nods, walking into the room. You stand to meet him on the way. His eyes rake over your body, appreciating the sight of the dark red adoring your tiny skirt, your bralette, your lipstick. “I love that color on you.”

You hum gratefully. “That's kind of the point, isn't it?” It is your namesake, after all.

His hands land on your hips, grazing the bare skin they find with appreciative fingers. “What kind of red is it?” He hums, allowing his eyes to take you in. “Scarlet, rose…ruby, perhaps?”

You don't react, smiling at him as you ignore the heavy beating of your heart. Parting your lips, you let out a gentle chuckle. “Cherry.”

“Ah,” he nods, smirking. “That makes sense.”

Placing your hands on his chest, you begin to slowly walk him backwards toward the sofa. “What would you like, doctor?”

He falls onto the cushions with a little bounce, staring up at you with his piercing gaze. His hand cups the back of your thigh, caressing the skin thoughtfully as you stifle the shudder threatening to break. He smiles. “Dance for me.”

You nod gently, examining the expanse of his face. Jonathan Crane is a man of microexpression. He doesn't often let on what he's thinking, and he isn't partial to freely telling. You've always found yourself watching him too closely, waiting for a subtle change, anything to give away what he's really thinking. You take your bottom lip between your teeth, just the slightest nip before you let it free again.

“As you wish,” you whisper.

You break away from him, turning up the dial for the music to play, and walking toward the mini stage and its pole, just waiting for you to join it. You take hold of the cold steel, locking eyes with the man staring back at you, his gaze intense and unyielding. You like this little game between you, this game that pools so much heat within you.

He doesn't let a single movement go unnoticed as you dance for him. Every sway, every dip, every swivel is appreciated in his eyes, and you enjoy the attention at its fullest. He shakes his head, sighing to himself as he praises you.

“I love the way you move,” he says. “So smooth and graceful.”

You giggle lightly. “Why, thank you.”

“A beauty like you deserves to be praised,” he replies, leaning back with an arm thrown over the back of the sofa. He thinks to himself, nibbling his bottom lip and watching you closely.

“Well,” you turn back around, practically hugging the pole as you bend down low to your knees, “I'm feeling praised.”

You stand back up, slowly, sensually, never letting your gaze wander from his own. “Good.” His voice is nearly a purr.

There's a moment where he finds himself lost in the sight of you. He doesn't speak, he doesn't hum. His eyes stay glued to your figure, mesmerized by the spell of your hips swaying in the mood lighting.

He strokes his bottom lip, tilting his head up at you. “There was an explosion the other night at the dock,” he says. “Did you hear?”

You hum, “Here and there, the patrons talk.” You glance over your shoulder at him, “Which one?”

“Chesterport.” Again, you hum. “They say that Ruby Red crashed. Some of her bomb casings were left behind.”

That's one of the only downsides to your bombs. The casings. You don't flinch. “Was there something going on?”

He tilts his head, smirking. “This is Gotham, sweetheart. There's always something going on.”

You shrug. “Then it's probably not that bad.”

Your answers intrigues him. He furrows his brow, “I've never asked.” He sits up, leaning forward curiously. “What do you think about this vigilante, ‘Ruby Red’?”

You're treading on dangerous waters now. If you blow your cover to him, things could end really badly for you.

“You've never needed to ask. It's not really a topic of discussion here.” You turn to him, your dance never halting for a moment as you bend down, your hands on your knees as you roll back up to your full height. He never looks away, relishing in the intensity.

“But what do you think?”

You don't let any silence linger. You say the first thing on your mind and hope it's good enough to pass. You've always had a cunning tongue, you're sure you can get by well enough.

“I think that if she keeps busting the criminals of Gotham, then I'm going to run out of clients.” You chuckle lightly, “Same for the fucking Batman.”

His brows raise in surprise. “So you want her to stop.”

You shrug. “I want her to stay away from you.” You send a wink his way. “You pay me best.”

He sets a hand over his chest. “I thought we had a real connection, Miss Cherry.”

“We do,” you hum. You break away from the pole, stepping slowly over to him as you bend down to rest your hands on the back of the sofa, caging him in. Your faces are inches apart. You tip his chin up slightly with the very tip of your finger. “You, me, skin-to-skin, money-to-palm.”

He sighs gently when you let go of him, shifting your dance into his lap. “Naughty girl,” he tuts. “I thought I wasn't allowed to touch.” Just as he says it, he smooths a hand down your side.

“That's never stopped you before,” you chuckle. “You know you can touch, darling, you're just not allowed to fuck me.”

He hums regretfully. “Such a pity,” he says. There's another pause. “Have you ever been told you look like her?”

Shit.

“Like who?”

“Ruby Red.”

“No.” You look at him, raising an innocent brow. “Why, do I?”

He shrugs. “There's a resemblance.”

You turn it back on him, “So you've seen her before?”

He seems proud of that fact. He leans in slowly, catching your own chin this time. “Up close and personal.”

You love this little game of yours. You close more space, your voice low. “I thought she only got up close and personal with the bad boys.”

“Am I not?” he asks.

Your voice is a whisper. “A little bit.” You break away from him again.

He takes in a deep breath. Thinking. “Can I tell you something?”

You wink at him. “Anything you want, my darling doctor.”

“I was at that dock that night,” he confesses. “Chesterport?”

“Were you?” You feign surprise. “Were you misbehaving?”

He doesn't reply immediately, watching the expressions on your face as you continue on. He smiles, tilting his head. “Well, I wasn't behaving well.”

“Good. I find it boring when you do.”

“I saw her…” He grabs your arm, though not roughly. He takes your arm and pulls you back into him so you stand between his legs. He maneuvers your hands onto his shoulder, setting his own on your waist. You lean into him, wrapping your arms closer. “Up close and personal. I spoke to her, actually. You know what she told me?”

You tilt your head. “What?”

“ ‘You were behaving.’ ” He smiles, staring at your face. “That's what she said.” You still don't flinch. You can't. Anything you do could tip him off, but you have a feeling that your efforts will prove to be futile. He is insistent. “You know,” he narrows his eyes, “you sound a lot like her, too.”

Well, it's too late to change that.

You raise a brow, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Oh, so you think I’m Ruby?”

“I think it'd be quite the reveal,” he shrugs. “You definitely picked a great work spot if you were her. You're surrounded by criminals of all kinds, you get good intel. Hell, you were here just the other night listening to my conversation with Mr. Liste. I mean, who else would have figured out when and where we were meeting?”

“Okay,” you laugh gently, licking your bottom lip, “even if I was Ruby, how would you figure it out? Because I sound like her?”

He licks his lip this time, sighing gently. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your thigh, loving the feeling of your skin under his palm.

“When I saw her,” he begins, “she did this thing where she put her legs around my neck—scandalous, I know. When she had me down, just for a moment, I saw something…” He hooks his hand behind your knee, lifting it up to his side. Your heart plummets to your stomach, but you ignore it in favor of being partial. “It was something…on her upper thigh, on the inside.” His hand smooths under your skirt, slowly, slowly pushing it up. “A birthmark.” He pushes it all the way up, the expanse of your flesh and the slip of your panties revealed to him. “Like a cherry.”

He looks down and pauses at the sight of your bare flesh, barren of any mark, any blemish—just smooth, clear skin. Stopped in his tracks, he hums as he looks back up at you.

You raise a brow, lifting his chin. “Are you done?” you wonder, letting your hand fall back to his shoulder. “A few inches more and you would be past the touching rule.”

He tilts his head, his other hand reaching toward your leg. You reach a hand down, forgetting yourself as you grab his wrist and drop the smile from your face. Your eyes lock, and he grins. You know he's won as you drop your hand.

He wipes the makeup from your skin, the cherry birthmark showing itself in all its splendor. His hand lingers as he stares up at you. His triumph is subtle. There isn't much he needs to say. He leans back, brushing your knee.

“Hello, Miss Ruby.”

You stare at him for a while, planning your next course of action. You could kill him, but then you'd have to face Bruce—and you don't want to do that at all. You could knock him out, claim he broke the “touching” rule, but he'd just let the cat out of the bag. Then you'd be dead.

So instead…you smile. You smile at him and show how impressed you are by his investigation. “Smart boy,” you praise, mirroring his words from a few nights before. “The one time I don't cover it, you find me out.”

He shrugs. “I know a thing or two.” He sighs, examining you from head to toe. He taps his fingers on your thigh. “Now what is to be done about you?”

You let out a long sigh as you lower yourself into his lap, moving closer so that your bodies are practically pressed together. You keep your arms around his shoulders, playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

“You keep quiet,” you smile, “or I put you behind bars? Maybe I'll even throw you in one of your little cells at Arkham.”

His own hand smooths along your thigh, coming up higher so it strokes the round of your ass. “Sweetheart, you are in the middle of a nightclub run by one of the biggest bosses in the city.” He cradles the side of your neck like he'll kiss you. “Do you really think you’ll have the upper hand when they learn that one of their favorite dancers is also one of the city's pesky avengers?”

Your face doesn't change, but your heart is beating so quickly. You think he can feel it with the way he holds you, his hand right over your pulse. The danger you would be in if anyone ever found out is dire…

“All I would have to do is offer to take you in, ensure you never cause problems again. They would release you to me, and I could do…” you swear you can see his eyes rolling back, feel his body shuddering at the idea of such a thing, “...whatever I wanted.”

You refuse to admit the things his words are doing to you.

“I could make you crazy. I could make you…absolutely deranged,” he suggests. “I could visit you every single day, turn your mind to mush, have my way with you as long as I wanted.” He breathes in deeply as he removes his glasses, resting the tip of it between his lips as he sighs heavily through a grin. “You would beg me to do things to you that would make a good girl blush.”

You could almost feel your thighs shaking. The anticipation of his threat—his promise—is sent straight to your core as you try not to clench around nothing. He'd surely feel it with the way you sit atop him. The very idea has your heart beating even quicker, but you don't show it. Not even for a moment. You can't show such a weakness to him, he'd never let you live it down.

So you simply hum and shrug a nonchalant shoulder. “But you won't.”

“Won't I?” He sets his glasses down and leans in, so close to your lips yet so, so far all at the same time. His eyes pierce your soul, they dig deep until you can't control the slightest shiver rushing up your spine. “You'd be ruined. Even worse, I could give a heads up to the cops. You'd be on the run from both sides of the fight.” He chuckles, “I could make things…extremely difficult for you.”

He licks his bottom lip between his teeth. Just thinking about it makes his blood sing. With a sigh, he seems to calm himself. “Or…I could make things rather easy. Beneficial, even. It would be nice having someone like you in my pocket to get rid of my competition when I need it. And it'd be nice for you to have someone like me to deliver information to you when you need it.” He pinches your chin lightly. “This could be a very mutually benefiting relationship.”

When he stops, you raise a brow at him. “But?”

“But,” he agrees, “if we decide on this, I require some assurance.” He shrugs. “Attention, if you will.”

Your lip rises in a smirk. “You want me to fuck you?”

He hums. “Decisions, decisions.”

You roll your eyes to keep from clenching your thighs. Shaking your head, you glance away as you feign disgust. “Ugh,” you groan. “You're such a man.”

Completely unbelieving, he questions, “And you don't want me?” You turn back to him. “You're telling me that you don't wish we could do more than just…touch?” He raises a hand to your cheek, hovering his lips over yours as he teases you. You try not to react, but it's hard. “Do I not attract you?”

You steady your breath. “And what makes you think that I do?”

There's a moment of silence where he just…watches you. The amusement glints in his eyes and you know you've screwed up…again.

“Do you know why a cat's eyes expand so much when they look at their owners?” he asks. “Like little dimes.”

You chuckle. “Because they love their owners. This is not that.”

He disregards your answer. “Well, some of the science is a little more practical. In the dark, pupils will expand to let in more light in order to allow our brains to take in more information. When looking at someone you find attractive, your eyes will expand in the same manner—to take in more of them, to gain more information.” He strokes your cheek. “Every time you look at me, sweetheart, your eyes grow ever so slightly. Right now…” he smiles, “dimes.”

You don't want to hear this. “Listen, Jon–”

“You lick your lips a lot in order to draw my attention to them, to raise my attraction for you.” He tilts his head, and you have to fight the urge to lick your lips as you do the same, forgetting your smile as you stare darkly at him. You don't appreciate the way he picks you apart like this, things so hard for you to change. Mental, psychological things.

“You mirror me.” You straighten your head as soon as he says it, which only makes his smile grow. He's so proud of himself. You want to prove him wrong but you keep proving him right. “You adopt my mannerisms in order to create a bond between us. When you look at me, your body–”

“I think I get it,” you interrupt quickly. You've heard enough.

“Oh…” he pretends to pout. “Don't feel bad. You did try so hard to hide it. But you forget, I've dedicated my life to studying these kinds of things.”

You look away from him, thinking quietly to yourself as you contemple on your course of action. You really don't have much of a choice…

Bruce could protect you, you're sure, but you'd still be in a lot of danger. They would never stop looking for you, none of them, and you know that one day they would.

You sigh, “So I either fuck you or spend the rest of my life running from both the law and crime.”

He tuts to himself, too proud of himself to hide his grin. “Decisions, decisions.”

You really have no choice. On the bright side, you're getting laid.

You collect a big breath, letting it out in a heavy sigh as you release your inhibitions and give in. This should be fun, at least.

“I'm warning you,” you say, “I'm a scratcher.”

He smirks. “I'm a biter.”

Your lips crash together as you grip his hair between your fingers, pulling roughly as the both of you join in a fierce kind of passion that leads to flushed skin and heavy breaths and trembling limbs. It's the kind of passion that burns anything in its wake and leaves you questioning in the morning whether or not you regret the night before.

Immediately he lives up to his word as his teeth sink into your bottom lip. You moan into his mouth, moving his head back as you lift onto your knees to tower over him. The lust is fast, and the urge is strong. He grunts against your lips, pulling you closer to his body as you both devour each other in rough, carnal desire.

It sets a fire within you knowing that you’ve managed to turn the calm and composed Dr. Crane into just another man desperate to give into his lustful cravings. He’s no longer the esteemed doctor you know him to be…now he’s just Jonathan… and that’s a sweet reward you’ve already grown a tooth for.

You grind into his lap, sighing at the way his growing erection feels rubbing into you. A choked sound erupts from his throat as he grabs your waist, moving your hips against him. Your moans fall from your lips, a deep sound in your chest meant to encourage him.

You place a hand over his, gripping it to pull it away as you remove yourself from his lap. Sinking onto your knees, you look up at him through hooded eyes You undo his belt with quick fingers, caught in the heat of the moment. He watches you with kiss-swollen lips, his breath unsteady as you look up at him through hooded eyes. Your hand strokes his lap, moving closer and closer to his crotch before the palm of your hand is massaging him.

He groans, and you can feel his cock twitching in his pants. Eager to set him free, you release him from the confines of his slacks and take him in your hand. A breath escapes you at the sight. Half-hard, he’s well-endowed, and the tiniest part of you feels guilty at the way you feel your need for him rising within you. That part of you is quickly squashed by that same need as you massage the head of his cock with your thumb and he lets out the most delicious sound.

You inhale the heady scent of him, there’s something so expensive and male about him. As you dip your head down, you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock and listen to his quick breath. The dribble of precum that lands on your tongue is a welcomed taste that you immediately endorse as you wrap your lips around the head of him. When you suck, Jonathan’s a goner, reduced to little grunts and tiny puffs through his lips. You’re guessing he doesn’t get laid much.

But a man of his temperament? You suppose he doesn't need to.

He’s hard by the time you’ve taken him down to your throat, your lips brushing his pelvic bone as the slightest gag tickles your throat. You moan as you come up, suckling around him before letting him slip out with a pop. Through grunts, Jonathan shakes his head as he looks down at you. “Come now, sweet girl,” he says. “You shouldn’t play with your food.”

It amuses you that he refers to himself as food. You were pretty sure this whole time he depicted himself the predator and you the prey, but you’re sure there’s an insinuation in there that still leaves him in charge. Either way, you just let a deep chuckle bubble in your chest as you take him again. His hand tangles in your hair, flexing there as he holds you with no real intent to guide you. Yet.

You bob your head up and down his length, keeping your rhythm slow and measured to tease him without actually teasing. And he lets you for a while, watching you with blinking eyes as you suck around him. When he’s fed up, his grip in your hair tightens. “You can do better than that, Cherry.”

You take his words for what they are and suck harder. His jaw clenches as he inhales sharply through his teeth. His gasping hand urges you on, guiding you up and down the length of him to feel his rising pleasure. You move faster, forgetting your teasing for the sake of the heat between your thighs. It grows as you listen to his irregular breaths, as you feel him twitch in your mouth. Your hand snakes between your thighs and teases your clit through the fabric of your cherry red panties.

Between your laving tongue and his tightened grasp, you make quick work of building him up. When you swear he’s on the verge of losing the remainder of his control, he pulls you off of him with the same sultry pop as earlier. He leans his head back and catches his breath, licking his chapped lips as his hand flexes in your hair.

A grin spreads over his lips as he lolls his head to take you in once again. “You’re something special. I knew you would be,” he says. “I wonder if your little cunt is as tight as your throat.”

His words send shivers down your spine, but you’re good at pretending they don’t. Or, at least, if he notices it, he doesn’t say anything. You slowly rise to your feet once more, crawling back into his lap in an attempt to kiss him again. As you lean in, his hand meets your throat as he keeps you away from him. He eyes you, a predatory gaze in his eyes watching your bated breath, your dark eyes, your fluttering lashes.

Without a word, he maneuvers you to lay on your back, his hand still wrapped securely around your throat as he spreads your legs wide. You bring a hand up to his arm, gripping it as you allow your nails to dig into the skin. He smirks, bringing a hand between your thighs and teasing the fabric covering your pussy.

He groans deep in his throat, chuckling to himself. “You’re so fucking wet. All from sucking my cock.” He presses his finger against your clothed clit and a tiny gasp leaves you. It’s a delicious sight. “You’ll do perfectly,” he says mostly to himself.

Another shudder runs down your spine, but this one is more perceptible. A dark chuckle arises from his chest as you watch him smooth his hands over your body, slowly, slowly stripping you of your clothes. Your tiny skirt being pulled down your legs, your decorative bra in all its lace being unhooked from your chest. He sighs contently at the sight of your bare breasts, one hand reaching up to cup you before he kneads the doughy flesh in his palms.

You moan at the feeling, your eyes fluttering closed as you arch your back against him. His finger flicks and circles your nipple, shooting an election shock straight to your core. Your clit pulses, needing him so badly to pay attention to it as he does your hardening nipples. His other hand brushes down your skin and dips beneath your panties, if not to give you what you want, then to remove them from your body. And he does, very, very slowly as he distracts you with his hot tongue on your sensitive nipple, his mouth latched on like he's starving.

What you're doing is dangerous. If anyone were to catch you, you would both end up in a lot of trouble—you probably more than him.

You could say he made you do it—technically he did; although considering your willingness, it probably doesn't matter. You could say he forced you down and ripped your clothes off, told you he would hurt you if you screamed. That would mean he broke the rules, he would be punished according to Gotham fashion.

But he could just as easily spill your secret on the table. He could tell everyone who you were, and that's more dangerous than being fired for having sex with a patron.

There are so few decisions, all with terrible outcomes that could lead to a very difficult life for you.

But you don't have the time to think about that when his mouth latches onto your pussy. Your back arches and your eyes squeeze shut as he licks into you. Your parted lips gasp for breath as his tongue plunges deep inside of your hot cunt. A deep groan shudders within you, and you bury your hands in his hair in an attempt at pulling him even closer.

He mumbles something against your soaked folds, pulling back with a sigh. “Fucking delicious,” he praises, diving back in with the drive of a starved man.

His fingers prod at your opening, pushing inside of you and filling you with the thickness of them. They curl and you curl with them.

You wrap your legs around his head and dig your heels into his back. When he sucks on your clit, you're a goner. Every lick and suck only grows your need for him, for this awful man who you cannot allow to cloud your judgment. But it's far too late for that. You roll your hips against his face, needing more but only receiving what he gives you—the deep coaxing of his fingers, the insistent licking of his tongue, the cruel sucking of his lips.

Your legs twitch as you near that desperate release. It's becoming too much. You need it so badly, you can almost taste it–

You whine when he pulls away from you, licking his lips as he pulls away. “You're so needy,” he chuckles. “As much as a needy whore as I thought you'd be. You know, this job suits you almost as much as plain prostitution would.”

You ignore him because he's annoying. You unhook your legs from his shoulders, moving to sit up with a hand on his chest. For the moment, he lets you lay him back against the arm of the sofa.

“I think it's unfair that I'm naked and you're still fully clothed,” you say, reaching for his buttons.

He hums. “Then you should fix that…”

You straddle his hips as you undo his buttons, taking your time in unlooping each individual one as more and more of his skin is revealed to you. You smooth your hands over the expanse of his chest, leaning forward to take his lips between your own. You sigh against him, your hands grasping his sides, and you can't help the way your nails dig into his skin and drag.

A strangled moan erupts from his throat, his head knocks back at the feeling. He reaches up to grab your arms, cupping your elbows as he grinds his teeth. A heavy breath escapes you, and you reach your hands down to undo his belt. “And you call me the whore,” you quip, a devilish smirk curving your lips.

Jonathan chuckles when you unzip his pants, lifting his hips to help you pull them down until he's completely bare, save for his shirt hanging off his shoulders.

You smirk, leaning down to ghost your lips over his. “I think I should make you beg.”

He raises an amused brow. “Do you now?” He leans forward as you shift away from his face. “And what makes you think I'd beg you for anything?”

“I just want to hear you say it.” Your lips barely brush his, pulling back when he pushes forward, pushing forward when he pulls back. “It's not a big deal. I just want you…to beg me…to fuck you.”

The pauses are where kisses should be. But you don't give them to him. You stare at him, your eyes taunting and your lips swollen from the abusive kisses they'd been granted earlier.

The more time you spend staring at him, the more intrigued he becomes by you. He could not have come across a better business partner…

“Fine,” he shrugs nonchalantly. You feel his cock twitch at the lips of your pussy, wanting so badly to be inside of you. He licks his lips, taking in the smallest breath, “Please, Miss Ruby…” he says as his hands find your waist. “Please fuck me. Please wrap that pretty little pussy around my cock and ride me like the good girl you are.”

You smirk as you shudder, his dominance over you mixing with his—albeit weak—begging for you creating such a sweet cocktail on your tongue.

“See?” you whisper, finally bending down to close the gap as you wrap your lips up in his. Pulling away, his teeth hold onto your lip before he lets it slap gently against your bottom teeth. “That wasn't so hard, was it?”

He grabs your hips and pulls you down, his perfectly aligned cock thrusting all the way into you in one fluid motion. Your moan is sudden, a trembling thing that makes your eyes flutter and your lips part so prettily. He grunts as he leans his head back. You can see the veins in his neck, his clenching jaw. You curl your fingers around his shoulders as you hold on tightly to them.

A quiet curse drops from your lips as you roll your hips on top of him. It's a deep roll, one of those movements that require your whole body to complete. He fills you with himself, and you can't help the shudder that comes from the way he encourages your hips.

Lifting up just barely to the tip of his cock, you drop yourself back down and allow a louder moan to fall out of you. Already drunk on the feeling, you chase it in quick succession, rising and falling and rising and falling until you create a steady rhythm full of the sounds of slapping skin, the slickness of your arousal mixing with his. It's easy to become addicted, it's easy to succumb to the feeling that is only this forbidden kind of pleasure.

You're a hero (of sorts), and he's a villain. You're not supposed to be riding his cock in the middle of a nightclub, moaning his name as he moans yours.

Your hands grasp eagerly at skin, each sudden spike of pleasure forces your nails to dig into his awaiting flesh. The groan he gives is nearly a whimper as he twitches inside of you.

When you look up, your eyes are caught in the reflection of a mirror across the room. The sight of your bodies moving together, the grinding, the thrusting, the grasping—your head is swirling with intoxication.

“Your thighs are shaking so much,” he huffs, his hands tightening on the meat of your thighs. He pushes you further down, and you nearly choke on your own breath.

Your eyes flutter at the mirror, stuck to the sight. “That's good, baby, keep doing that,” you moan, spurring on his desperation.

You actually whimper when he presses the pad of his thumb to your clit. In tight, quick circles, he builds you up as you continue to ride him. Your moans rise, high and breathy and way more pathetic than you intended for them to be.

“Jonathan,” you gasp. The roll of your hips becomes more demanding, short and quick. You're not going to last long like this. You squeeze your eyes shut, “Just a little harder.”

“You're so,” he huffs, “good for me.”

You know he hates it, but you're so blissed out that you can't bring yourself to care when you moan out to him. “Jon, I'm gonna cum.” You drop your head, gripping on tight and thrusting your hips. “Fuck, you're gonna make me cum.”

He doesn't seem to care either, his fingers still going on your clit. “I'm not going to let you cum until you beg me, sweetheart.”

It doesn't matter if it's supposed to be an indignity. Blissed out or not, you couldn't care less about begging him for anything. Your job was the pleasing of (usually) men. Even though you're not really supposed to be fucking them, there are other ways for them to take their pleasure without touching you.

So the words tumble effortlessly from your lips as you continue to grind. “Please, baby. Please let me cum, I need it,” you gasp, your words urgent and full of the need that's driving you.

His thumb rubs faster, rougher, keen on making you fall apart above him. That's all he wants right now, to feel you fall apart from the pleasure he gives to you.

When you do, it's with a muffled shout. Yes, the walls are thick, and yes, it's unlikely someone would hear you, but you don't want to take that chance as the pleasure raids your body. It soaks into your bones and leaves you trembling. You tighten around his cock as he groans, watching your eyes glaze over with the intensity of your release.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your lips part as you gasp for breath. Your hips stutter in their quest to draw out your orgasm for as long as you can as your thighs shake.

“Fuck.” The sound is nearly a sob, still struggling to come down from your high as you let out a couple more rolls. As you look down at him, your mind slowly coming back to you, you can't help your smirk as you stroke your hand over his chest. “You did so good. I'm so proud of you.”

Jonathan ignores the tiny swell of pride at your praise, sitting up to kiss you in that hungry way he seems to love. He pulls out of you as he continues to sit up, moving you backward until he's got you laying on your back. You look up at him, your hands playing with the hair at the base of his neck. Your limbs are heavy, your legs still twitching with the aftershocks of your release.

“Now that you've had your fun…” he says, as though he didn't enjoy watching you above him, riding his cock and telling him good he was making you feel. His teeth graze your jaw, nipping you as he does, “...it's my turn.”

You're still sensitive from your fresh release ,but you don't think he cares. It doesn't matter much anyway. You've concluded that this man is as good with manipulating bodies as he is with manipulating minds.

He takes your leg, spreading you wide to open you up as he pushes his cock back inside of you. You both sigh when he buries himself to the hilt, but you don't have time to relish the delicious stretch because he's already fucking into you, thrusting into you fast and rough, like this is his last chance to do it.

Your eyes squeeze shut, the oversensitivity pickling at you before it melds into the white hot pleasure of his cock. He fists the arm of the couch by your head, his knuckles white and his jaw clenched.

His hair falls over his forehead, sticking to the sheen of sweating coating his skin as his erratic breaths pass through his plump lips. A rough thrust has you whining his name, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and finding purchase at his back. He ruts into you like there’s no tomorrow, his grunts and groans fading in your mind as you lose yourself in the pleasure.

“Fuck, you're so tight,” he grunts. “I expected you to be well used, sweetheart, but this cunt feels fucking new.”

You know he's calling you a whore, but you really don't care. It brushes just right and sends tingles through your body, tingles that are drowned by the crashing waves of his desperation. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you still.

You feel Jonathan's tongue dart out to lick a slip of your skin, and your breath shudders when his teeth graze at your flesh. It feels nice, the way he uses his teeth to mark you. His breaths pass as moans in your ear, and you can't help but to hold him closer, your nails sitting idly in their burrowed spots at his back.

On a rough thrust, he slips up as he clamps his jaw around your shoulder, nearly growling as he loses against his need to sink his teeth into you. The sudden pain that spasms from his bite shoots through you, and you can't help but to moan at the feeling. One of your hands flies to his hair, tangling in his dark locks and pulling lightly. “Fuck, yeah,” you sigh. “God, that feels so good, baby.”

He pulls away from your neck, though his thrusts never let up. He pins you down as he fucks you, reaching a hand out and bringing it down hard on your ass. You gasp at the feeling of his harsh slap, but it only elevates your pleasure until you're seeing stars.

He smacks you again, but your little cry turns into a whine as his thumb meets your clit. He's close. You can feel it. He clenches his teeth and presses his forehead to yours as he continues to fuck into you. Your head swarms with the taunting of a release, your breaths mingling and your mixed arousal smearing all over your skin, dripping onto the couch beneath you.

“Fuck, Jon. Baby, I'm gonna cum again.” You can't stop the words from coming out of you. They're heavy and demanding, they crave attention just like the rest of you.

His nose nudges your neck, inhaling your scent and muffling his higher pitched grunts. “Gonna cum in you, Ruby,” he huffs. “I'm gonna fuck my cum into this tight little pussy.”

His sloppy thrusts support his claim, replacing the measured pumps of his cock into an erratic rhythm that takes you too long to catch up to. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. “Please,” you gasp. “I'm so close.”

His hips continue to snap into your own, shoving in hard and rough, reaching so deep that you think you'll be feeling him for days. The pad of his thumb on your clit continues to build you up, bringing you higher and higher until you can no longer control yourself. The coil in your gut snaps and sends you spiraling, your vision blurry and white as you gasp until you can no longer breathe. Jonathan's grunt is more of a whimper as you rake your nails down his back, certain that you're leaving your mark on him as he'd left his mark on you, trading his purple bruises in for angry red lines in his flesh.

A whiny kind of moan tears from your throat as you grind your hips into him, urging on your release. Jonathan moans as your walls spasm around him, clenching so tight. Your cry gets caught in your throat, the blunt head of his cock still pounding inside of you as you fall apart.

He uses you to his own end, his blinding release catching up just to spill inside of you, painting you in white. With a growl, his teeth sink into your shoulder again and they don't let up. The sharp pain mixes with the pleasure until it's all a blur behind glazed eyes.

It takes a while before the pleasure wanes enough for him to loosen up. “Good girl,” he coaxes, lost in the aftershocks of a powerful orgasm. Your legs shake and your jaw ticks as you continue to milk every last drop of his cum, ensuring none of it goes to waste.

Your breaths sound loud in your ears, both of your heavy sighs mixing together as you settle. He pets your hair, pulling away from your neck and watching you through lust-blown eyes. With as much strength as you can muster, you lean forward and push your lips against his. The kiss is just as demanding as the first few, but not as focused, your exertion adding to the laze of it.

With one last rough thrust—and a surprised cry from you—he pulls out of your full pussy. You whine at the empty feeling he leaves you with, especially when he lifts his weight off of you to stand. When he does, his eyes shut as he winces at the pain he finds in his back. Nevertheless, he stands to his feet and stretches his back, sighing at the few pops he finds in the process.

You lay lazily on the couch, an arm draped over your eyes as the other hangs off the cushion. You feel good, after a lazy stretch of your own (also accompanied by a few satisfying pops), you feel loose and limber.

Jonathan leaves you laying there as he redresses himself, taking time in buckling his belt, in buttoning his shirt, in adjusting his hair. You lounge on the couch, shifting onto your stomach and watching him through hooded eyes. You're dripping between your thighs, the air smells like sex, and you're going to have to take a very long shower after this, but you honestly couldn't care less.

You're going to have to figure out how to weasel out of this (temporary, if you can help it) deal of yours, but that's a thought for later. Right now…you're content.

He comes to stand in front of you, looking down as he reaches for his glasses. Placing them on the bridge of his nose, he smiles at you. “I look forward to seeing what we will be desecrating next, Miss Cherry.”

There's an insinuation in his words that alludes to the world outside of this club, ie…he knows where you live and he has no problem showing up to renew your deal. It's an issue and it erupts goosebumps all over your skin, but you feel too good to think about it.

You reach an arm out, wrapping it around his waist and pulling him forward. You open a button near his waist on his shirt, pressing your lips to the bare skin underneath. Then you look him in the eyes as you button it once more. “I will be seeing you, Dr. Crane.”

He chuckles, turning on his heel and walking toward the door. You look after him and hope you're not totally fucked.

Cillian Murphy taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time​ @goblinjnr @kmc1989 @shelbyisms @weepingwitchofthewest @cl-0-vr @thoticious @sinarainbows @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bernelflo @dragonslayersupremacy @alurafairy @pietroxreader @darkcastle167 @neonpurplestars89 @motopoppp @mrkdvidal1989 @thegen3sisark @niktwazny303 Tag yourself here...

[mysaintkitten]

smut with cillian murphy at the golden globes? am i crazy?

Claim Your Prize | Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

!!disclaimer!! this fic does Not represent Cillian as a person, we love and support Yvonne here. this is simply for fun/fantasy! :3

WARNINGS: SMUT (MINORS DNI), public-ish sex, mirrors are involved, kind of sweet sex i think lol, creampie (of course)

“And the award goes to …”

A moment of silence and anticipation fills the room as the announcers carefully pry open the envelop containing the winners name. Beneath the table, you anxiously grab Cillian’s hand. He squeezes it gently in response.

“Cillian Murphy!”

As soon as his name escapes their lips, a wave of relief and appreciation crash over you. Finally, the most hardworking man you know is getting the admiration he deserves.

The people around you clap and cheer, and before Cillian heads up to accept his award you give him a quick hug and a kiss. A brief glimpse into the intimacy the two of you regularly share, yet are never public about it.

It then all becomes a beautiful, hectic blur. As cillian stands in front of everyone accepting his award, he seems to find all the right words to say, and all the right ways to say it. All you can do is stand back and watch him, giving him your utmost respect as he gives his thanks.

When his speech is over and the announcers move on to the next category, you get up from your table to meet Cillian half way. Since the rooms so tightly packed, the best route along the outer edges. As soon as he makes you out in the crowd he smiles happily at you, his eyes beaming with energy and gratitude.

Once you’re face to face, he hugs you again, tighter, finally getting a chance to hold you like he’d initially wanted to when they first announce his win.

Whilst getting ready earlier, you couldn’t help but brainstorm different ways to “reward” Cillian if he won. He isn’t very materialistic, and you knew that the only thing he truly wanted from you was your support, to stand by him whether he won or lost.

But you wanted more, you had to give him something you knew he needed after all these gruelling months of seemingly endless work.

So, after slipping into your dress for the event, you slipped off your panties directly after. Wanting Cillian to have as easy access as possible if he wins.

And now you’re here, wearing no panties underneath your dress, while hugging your winner of a husband.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper softly in his ear, turning your head a bit more to give him a kiss on the cheek, “so proud.”

He hums back, briefly nuzzling into your kisses before copying your gestures and kissing you on the cheek, leaving small quick pecks until he ended up back at your lips where he kissed you properly.

The kiss is passionate, warm, not yet sexual but you knew how easily it could fall into that territory.

“I have a gift for you,” you purr in his ear before dragging your fingers along his back, planting a small kiss on his neck and then pulling away.

“What is it?” Cillian asks, earnestly curious, he looks down for a moment but quickly realizes you aren’t carrying anything with you. With a mischievous grin, you grab his hand and lead him away to a private area. You’re able to sneak away quite easily, everyone else is much too fixated on the next winner anyway.

The hallways are vacant for the most part, a few scattered workers here and there, but all you’re thinking about is getting Cillian alone.

Whilst roaming the halls, you spot the bathroom. A unisex, single bathroom. Although it’s not ideal, it’s the best you’ll find in a place like this. Once Cillian sees where you’re heading, it doesn’t take long for him to figure out what your “gift” may entail.

After taking one more good look around, you decide the coast is clear enough and you both sneak into the bathroom before promptly locking the door.

It’s nothing special. A toilet, a sink, a mirror, what you’d normally expect to find in a bathroom. Luckily for you, the room had clearly just been cleaned. The counters and mirrors were spotless, and it smelt faintly of lemon and fresh laundry.

You swiftly turn around to face Cillian, placing your hands on the counter behind you, that sneaky little grin still spread across your lips.

With an equally naughty smile, Cillian presses his body against yours, him too placing his hands on the counter.

“So, what kind of gift does my lovely wife have in mind?” Cillian teases, kissing you gently on the lips, his voice lowers before he speaks again. “One that we need to be all alone for …”

The warmth between your legs intensifies, and the pressure of his body alone is enough to make your brain fuzzy. You drape your arms around his neck, briefly running your fingers through his hair.

“Just wanted to give you a little something that I know you’ve been missing,” you coo innocently, “something that you deserve after all this long …”

You pause for effect,

“And hard …” your voice becomes breathier as bring an arm down off his neck and snake it between your bodies, your grasp landing between his legs to palm him through his trousers, “work.”

Cillian growls, deeply inhaling your sweet and comforting smell, “you don’t know how much I’ve missed this.”

Quickly, Cillian turns you around, your hips now against the edge of the counter top. And now, you’re met with your own reflection. Both you and Cill with flushed cheeks and slightly messy hair, your makeup smeared around the edges of your lips while Cillian’s have a faint red-ish hue from your lipstick.

“I’ve missed this, too,” you sigh as your arousal stirs within you, at this point you don’t doubt that your wetness has made its way to your inner thighs. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“S’all thanks to you, really …” Cillian groans against your neck, kissing the skin hungrily. “You’re the only thing that’s kept me fuckin’ sane throughout all of this.”

“Cill …” you giggle at his sweet words, your fingers carding through his hair while he stands behind you, his grip on your hips tightens and you feel him roll his hips against your ass. His warm bulge just begging to be freed.

“Honest,” he defends, “while I was on set, or late at night when I couldn’t sleep, the only thing that brought me peace was you.”

Despite how sweet Cillian’s being, you didn’t take him in here to some exchange kind words or swap some spit.

“You’ve got me here now,” you make eye contact in the mirror, his pupils blown and swimming with lust, “claim your prize.”

The palms of his run along your stomach, his head dipping down to place a kiss onto your neck before bringing his eyes back up to your reflection. Those same palms find your hips, gently gripping the soft skin before sliding his hands down further around your thighs.

He begins to grab at the material hanging down your legs, attempting to hike up your dress as best he can. You bite your lip and give him some assistance in pulling up the fabric, eager for him to see the little surprise you have for him.

Once your dress is lifted up enough, Cillian groans at the beauty in front of him. Your ass on clear display, no panties or tights obstructing his view.

“Were you like this the entire time?”

He watches you nod, a proud smile spread across your lips with your bottom lip still tucked between your teeth. With a smirk he shakes his head, quickly unzipping and unbuttoning his trousers. He pulls them down just enough to allow his cock to spring free, and you feel his hot member pressing against your ass.

Cillian dips a hand down between your legs from behind, trailing his middle finger along the slick seam of your pussy. He dips his finger in, moaning lowly at the warmth and wetness of your core.

“Jesus, baby. Missed my cock that badly, huh?”

You nod while watching him through the mirror, completely transfixed by the sensation of his body against yours along with Cillian’s effortless beauty and sex appeal. You’ve never had a partner that knew which buttons to press as well as Cillian, he could read you like a book.

A small sharp inhale is sucked from your lips when you feel the tip of his length teasing your pussy, smearing your arousal around before gently prodding at your opening.

“Look at yourself when I put it in.” Cillian purrs in your ear, sneaking a large hand up to your neck, gripping your neck and jaw and moving your head forward, forcing you to face your own pleasure.

Already you feel some small amounts of embarrassment, your cheeks are all flushed and your hairs all messy- how could you look so ruined already?

Before you can think too much, Cillian’s pushing his cock inside, slowly. You watch yourself as your mouth starts to hang open, and your brows pinch together. You feel his cock nearly splitting you open, giving you that oh so familiar sweet stretch that you’d been craving after all this time.

“You’ve gotten so fuckin’ tight …” Cillian groans from behind, his warm breath against your neck causing your body to shiver. “You missed getting filled up like this, sweetheart?”

You nod, panting heavily while barely being able to keep your eyes open. His hips roll back out before harshly snapping back in, forcing a pathetic whimper to slip from your lips.

“Yes, yes!” You moan, gripping the edge of the counter as Cillian’s grip on your jaw tightens. Your eyes crack back open and you see your own face again, the pure pleasure he’s giving you leaves you almost unrecognizable in your own eyes. “Missed y-you and your cock-k so much … love you so much …”

It wasn’t very common of either of you to say ‘I love you’ during sex. You’d say it regularly before and after the act, but during? Rarely happened. But since you’ve missed Cillian so much, and he’s been so busy, and now that all his hard work has paid off- it only felt right.

Well, that and the fact that you were already getting cock drunk off of him, your brain barely processing whatever words are coming from your mouth.

“Love you too, darling.” He breathes, kissing your neck while thrusting into you roughly, your hips pushing so harshly against the counter you’re certain it’ll leave a bruise. You don’t care. If anything, you want it to bruise. You want the physical reminder that your husband gave you a good, hard fucking after so many months of separation.

“Love your face, and how cute you look when you’ve got a cock inside you,” Cillian teases, nipping at the shell of your ear before kissing your neck again. “Love this pussy …”

“Fuck-“ you gasp, already feeling the knot in your stomach beginning to form. You really want to make this last, but it’s all been building up within you for far too long now.

“Love, love, love you, my sweet girl.”

“I-I- fuck-“ embarrassment pangs inside you, already too ruined to properly respond to him. Even though you hate it, you know Cillian adores it. While pounding into you, he feels your channel become slicker around him, the subtle sound of your wetness filling the room combined with some mewls and heavy breaths.

“C-Cill, gettin’ close-“ you warn, opening your eyes as best you can to see Cillian when you come. The hand that was gripping your jaw slides down your back, creeping over towards the front of your body where Cillian starts to rub quick circles onto your clit. His other hand digging into your hip.

“Come, baby. Please, missed seeing that pretty little face of yours come undone for me.” Cillian encourages with a growl, the mind-melting combination of pleasure had you tipping over the edge merely moments after.

Your orgasm hits you hard, the hardest you’ve come in months. You bite into your bottom lip roughly to try silence yourself. Your knees wobble, nearly giving out beneath you, but Cillian’s strong grasp on your hip keeps you up on your feet. While wincing from sensitivity, you push away the hand that was rubbing your clit, Cillian obliges.

“That’s it,” he groans, his own thrusts becoming sporadic and sloppy, “gonna come inside, baby.”

You nod and whine, the sensitivity and pleasure had your entire body vibrating.

“Please, please come inside. I need it.” You beg almost pathetically, wanting nothing more than to feel Cillian’s warm spend spilling out from inside you. He’s panting, cursing, sweating slightly, desperate to give you as much of his come as he can.

He bites down on your shoulder while keeping his hips flush against yours, his cock almost painfully deep inside you, you feel his cock twitch. His hot seed painting your silk walls, just like he’d been fantasizing about for all this time.

Once it starts to become too much, he slowly pulls himself out, only to lean his body forward while spreading your cheeks apart, attentively watching as some of his come trickles out of your pussy. He brings his middle finger up and gently shoves his come back in, earning a small whimper from you.

He leans back up and smacks your ass, making you gasp and giggle before letting the fabric of your dress fall back down to cover your legs.

Cillian turns you around and kisses you, sweetly and passionately.

“Thank you for the gift, my love.”

“This was just the first part, baby. The real gift comes when we get home.” You tease with a wink. You take the next few moments to clean yourself up and fix your appearance before heading back out to the event.

You spend the rest of that evening with Cillian’s come seeping out of you, a dirty little secret that only the two of you share.

—

this fic doesn’t really do it justice but I loooove in fics involving mirrors where the top or whoever’s in charge forces the other to look at themselves getting ruined :,( eat it up every time

[magicbystarlight]

Before I Knew You - Part Eleven

Bill Weasley x Reader

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: You’ve spent years training under Madam Pomfrey in the hopes that you would join the Healers at St. Mungo’s at graduation. But in the aftermath of the death of Albus Dumbledore, you chose to join the Order instead. When you’re forced into hiding, you find yourself alone with Bill Weasley and his new wolfish tendencies.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+, typical canon warnings, smut, age gap, oral sex (fem recieving), delayed orgasm, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, cum eating (kinda?), allusions to knotting, angst. Minors DNI.

A/N: This would not have been written without you, Lovely 💛

There was a lot of arguing. The younger siblings demanded answers. Their parents tried to give none. Bill countered that they should know. That it was in everyone’s best interest to be prepared in case they too were interrogated. Fred suggested moving you. He flinched at the growling disagreement from Bill. Molly tried to argue he may be right, but George said Yaxley could be hoping for that. Fear causes people to make mistakes, he argued. 

“What exactly did he ask?” The table fell silent, looking towards you. But you were only looking at Arthur.

“Much the same as his father had asked at the wedding. Why you’d been there, where you’d been before, where you went after. He asked that if I heard anything about or from you, to tell him. Only him. And if I saw you," he looked at Bill who nodded for him to continue, "to tell you that he has someplace safe.”

The table erupted again with words like delusion and trap thrown around. 

"He's going to the twins next." The commotion died once more, all eyes on you.

"How do you know?"

"Because I know Cillian." No. That wasn't right. The Cillian you knew wasn't a murderer. "At least, I know he was jealous of them back in school. Thought one of them had a thing for me." You'd nearly forgotten that. You looked between Fred and George. "He'll be more aggressive with you because of it."

Fred winked. "Don't worry 'bout us, love—

—we can handle him," George finished.

Bill's fist slammed on the table, making Ginny flinch. "This isn't a fucking joke!"

"But they need to act like it is," you countered. You kept your eyes on the twins. They needed to be prepared. They needed to know. "You've got to be as combative with him as he will be with you. Make it clear you have no intention to cooperate with him. If you act any differently it'll look suspicious to him."

Molly tapped her wand against the table, all the dishes lifting from the table. They flew to the kitchen, scraping themselves into the trash before settling into the sink. She followed them, waving her wand. Water and soap filled the sink. You’d forgotten magic could be used for something as mundane as dishes.

“That’s good to know,” George said, trying to ignore the uncertainty that had settled over the table with Molly’s abrupt end to dinner. Half the plates still had food.

“What if he brings his father?” Ginny asked.

“He won’t. Cillian has to be going behind his back trying to find me. Corbin wants me dead.”

Plates clattered in the kitchen. The Weasleys shared looks with each other.

Molly stood clutching the counter, staring out the window. "We should have all gone into hiding when we had a chance." Arthur came to her side and she allowed herself to be brought into his arms, burying her face in his chest. It hurt to see.

Ginny’s final day had been ruined. At least she’d be safe from Cillian’s questioning at Hogwarts. It would be too risky for him to go there. Even with Fred and George he’d have to be careful. Eyes would be everywhere in Diagon Alley with someone reporting back to someone who could report back to his father of his activities. That was if he wasn’t already being followed.

They left shortly after. Molly’s hug was a bit tighter than comfortable when she promised everything would be alright. Fred said he’d stop by again soon. Ginny said nothing, but squeezed your hand with watery eyes. You didn’t go outside to see them off, but as you looked at the clean kitchen you wish you had. There was nothing there to keep your hands busy. Magic had cleaned the dishes and put them in their place. It had wiped the counters. Swept the floors. Even the chairs had been pushed in. 

One pop. Then another. And then the door, steps, a hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier."

"Ginny got to enjoy most of her day. I wouldn't have been much fun if you'd told me before.” His hand fell off as you shrugged. “Besides, it’s better that they all know. So they’re prepared.”

“You really think he’s gonna go after them?”

“Cillian was jealous a lot.” Another thing you’d nearly forgotten. “I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t try to track down every guy that’s ever spoken to me.” Not the women though. He didn’t think Cho had counted. You turned and rested your head against his chest, his embrace welcome. The tension eased in your body.

“It’ll be okay,” he promises, “they’ll be okay.”

—

Bill left early the next morning to see Ginny off, reluctantly leaving you in bed with a kiss and a promise to not to be gone long. You stayed in bed for a bit, but sleep never returned. 

The sun rose higher in the sky as you worked out in the garden. Molly had brought the wolfsbane stored in the Burrow’s shed, miscellaneous potion ingredients that had been collected from various Order members, and any seeds she could spare the day before. Professor Sprout’s lectures echoed through your mind as you planted new seeds and replanted old plants into neat lines. You’d have to figure out how to build a greenhouse for some of the more difficult plants. There was plenty of sand to make glass.

When all that could be done in the small garden was done, it was still a quarter till ten. How you missed the hours it would take on the farm.

Your hair was your next task. That would take time. Washing, brushing, using your favorite hair potion Ginny had been thoughtful enough to bring. You considered styling it without the aid of magic to pass the time, but decided against it.

As your hair righted itself, your thoughts drifted back to the wolfsbane. Maybe if you could get in contact with Charlie, he could get some dragon blood. And maybe Hagrid could get some Occamy eggs. The rest would be easy enough to get your hands on. Then you could finally get a real attempt at the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus. 

Until then, you had other things you needed to start working on. Potions and salves to make now that you had the ingredients. 

That was how Bill found you a while later. Bent over a cauldron on the stove, hair covered to protect it from the steam of the Murtlap Essence. “Mum made treacle tart,” he said, sliding a pastry box on the counter. “And brownies.” Another box. “And some biscuits.” A third box. “She bakes a lot when she’s worried. I don’t think she slept at all.”

Your shoulders deflated. She’d have been worried anyway, with Ginny off to Hogwarts, but with the threat of Cillian hanging over her sons it must be so much worse.

“She wanted to know if she can drop by a couple times a week while I’m at work.”

“Why?”

“She wants to make sure you're doing alright. Thinks you have to be lonely here. She won’t say it, but she’s gonna be lonely too now that Ginny’s gone.” His arm slid around your waist. “I told Fred and George they should come by sometimes too.”

Your gaze snapped to his face, surprised. “Why?”

“Because you need a life outside of me. And I know my family isn’t really that, but I’ll see if I can get the other Order members to come by. Get them checked up and all that.”

“Do you really think that’s the greatest idea? You could barely stand having Kingsley here. Thought you were gonna tear Fred’s head off yesterday.”

“I’ll still get you to myself at night, right?”

“Yeah but,” you tried to explain, “are you sure you’re up for that? If it could make your symptoms worse, especially with the full moon coming, then mayb—“

His kiss cut you off.

“Like I said,” he breathed against your lips, “I’ll have you to myself at night. That’s enough.”

“But everything with Cillian, is it really safe?”

“It’s safer, I think, than you being here alone all the time. And we’ll come up with a plan in case something goes wrong. Practice some defensive spells, figure out a place to go.”

You kissed him softly. “Thank you.” 

“Oh don’t thank me,” he said, his teasing tone setting in, “it’s about time you started pulling your weight. Can’t have you lounge on the beach all day in some provocative little swimsuit, can we?”

You scoffed. “It was not provocative!”

“Have to disagree with you there, love.” His nose brushed against your cheek. “Everything you wear is provocative.”

“Guess I’ll stop wearing anything then.”

His groan had you smiling. “Please tell me you’re nearly done,” he begged.

“It’s gotta simmer for another couple hours,” he groaned again, “but it’ll be fine on its own fo—OH! Bill!”

It seemed he was determined to make it a habit of throwing you over his shoulder. Only this time he bypassed the couch and kicked the door to the bedroom open. You bounced against the mattress, giggling as you removed the hair covering. He was eager, giddy even, as he pulled off his clothes. He crawled up the bed, smiling into a messy kiss before helping to remove your own. 

His lips trailed down your neck. Teeth and tongue teased your collarbone. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his mouth found your breasts. A soft moan slipped out. He alternated between them, nipping and licking until you were squirming. When you asked him to stop teasing, he nuzzled into your neck and laughed. "I've got the patience today, love."

It clicked what he meant a moment before he slid down. Your groan turned high and breathless as his tongue glided between your folds. "Oh fuck," you gasped, hips jumping. His hand held you in place. You whimpered. This wasn't fair. His tongue traced a lazy pattern that had your legs shaking. You wanted to grab him and pull him closer. But he was unmoving. The pleasure was agonizing. He would go faster then slower. Fast, then slow. You felt the edge creeping closer and then he'd pull back and nip at the softness of your thighs.

He was merciless. He was enjoying himself. His groans were sinful, his hands greedy as the touched every part of you but the place you needed them most, his pace never slowing.

"Please," you begged, voice cracking.

Bill chuckled. "Please, what, love?" he asked, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

"Please stop teasing me. Please, let me cum. Please."

"So desperate for me, eh?" His fingers pushed into you. Rubbing and searching until they curled against a spot that had you seeing white. He hummed in delight, letting his tongue flick over your clit. The knot in your stomach snapped, his name falling from your lips over and over.

He didn't stop or slow as the high faded.  

"Bill," you cried. It was too much. You pushed at his head, trying to get away from the touch. You were too sensitive. His arm wrapped around your thigh and pulled you closer.

"One more, love."

"No, no, I can't. Bill, I can't."

"One more, love. Just one more," he promised. His hand was relentless. Fingers working that same spot. Your muscles tensed. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. Your vision blurred. The pleasure too intense, body locked and trembling. It was euphoric. When the spasming finally subsided you gulped down air.

Bill crawled back up, smiling proudly. "Beautiful," he said. The taste of you clung to his lips as he kissed you again. Your arms looped around his neck. You wanted more. Needed more. You pulled him closer. He settled between your legs. The head of his cock teased your entrance, making you jolt. Still sensitive. You whimpered into his mouth.

"Too much?" he asked, concerned.

Your legs wrapped around his and encouraged his hips forward. "Not enough."

His nose bumped against yours. "Godric, I love you."

He slid inside, inch by inch. Slowly. Your bodies pressed flush together. A gasp escaped when his hips finally met yours. His head fell to the crook of your neck, and he stilled for a moment, taking deep breaths. Then his hips pulled back and he began a slow pace. It was gentle. His lips caressing every part of your skin they could reach. Your hands trailed down his back. The pleasure built slowly until your climax hit again. 

He kissed your jaw. "More?" he whispered.

"More."

The pace picked up. Slow became steady. You whimpered as he continued to fill you.

"So perfect," he groaned.

His hips stuttered and picked up speed. You could feel another orgasm approaching. You dug your nails into his skin, holding on tight. His breathing grew heavy, his kisses messy and wet. His hips slammed against yours and you tumbled over the edge crying his name. He followed, burying his face in your neck as his hips slowed and came to a stop.

Bill collapsed beside you and pulled you close. "Think you could go for five?" he panted. You swatted his chest. He laughed and kissed your hair. You didn't want to move. Your eyes were drooping in exhaustion when you realized you had to.

"The dittany," you sighed, reluctantly pulling away from him. You went to stand, but your legs wobbled.

"I'll get it," Bill laughed, guiding you back down. He left with a kiss, not bothering to slip anything on. He's not gone long and he didn't come back empty handed. He was gentle with the warm washcloth as he wiped up his spend that had seeped out of you. But you were still sensitive. And vocal. A wicked gleam in his eyes warned you it wasn't over.

"What are you—" your words cut off in a sharp cry as his tongue dragged across your cunt again.

"Cleaning up my mess" he said before diving back in. He was thorough, tongue sliding inside you and swirling around. You were exhausted and sure you couldn't give him what he wanted, but he wasn't deterred.

He licked and nipped and sucked. His name fell from your lips.

"Please," you sobbed.

He pulled back, wiping his chin. "Please what?"

"I can't. Please."

He hummed, considering, and dove back in. You gripped the sheets, withering under him. He was relentless. It was overwhelming. Every muscle tensed, the knot in your stomach coiling tight. You cried out. It was blissful torture. Your toes curled. Your legs shook. The orgasm hit like a tidal wave. You whimpered as his tongue eased you down.

When he was satisfied, he pulled back. "Six?"

"Don't you fucking dare." There was no ire in your tone.

"Need me to grab you anything?" he offered with a sly grin. "Since you can't walk?"

"Shut up." You threw a pillow at him. He laughed, dodging the assault.

"Be back in a minute."

He was true to his word, returning with two glasses of water, the box of treacle tart, and a fork. He handed you a glass and climbed in bed next to you. He left another kiss against your forehead. It felt normal. As if you'd been together for years. As if you were together. He offered you the first bite of the tart. A part of you ached. 

—

Molly came the next morning after Bill had left for work. She was so different from your mother, yet so much the same. They both had to keep busy when things were stressful. Something to do to keep their mind clear. Your father wasn’t like that. He liked to sit and think and plan. 

She left not long after Bill returned home. You worried she’d noticed the way Bill nearly greeted you with a kiss. But she said nothing about it. You’re not sure if that made you feel better or worse.

—

Tonks popped in for only an hour the day after. Her conversation stayed far from werewolves or the upcoming full moon. It’s only as she was preparing to leave she asked, “Think we’ll see Bill anytime soon?”

“I don’t think so.”

She didn’t comment more on it. She knew. You felt a prickle of annoyance after her departure. She knew and said nothing. Not before, not when Bill was struggling, not now. Next time you’d ask for—no, demand answers. It was only fair. For Bill’s health.

—

You’re alone the two days leading up to the full moon. Bill was insatiable. You woke up the morning of with Bill’s rushed pleas in your ear.

“Need you, love. Please.”

It’s different. Less controlled. Like he’d been starved and presented a buffet. He’s desperate. “Cum for me, please. Need to, fuck love, need to feel you squeeze me, please, please, please.” You complied happily. 

—

You paced the living room. He was supposed to be home an hour before. You didn’t question him when he finally appeared. With the way he kissed you, it couldn’t have been anyone else.

He was rough. His hands bruising, possessive.

You don't remember making it to the bed or removing your clothes, but your there under him. His mouth is on your skin, biting and sucking. There would be bruises tomorrow. He buried himself inside you without resistance. The sound you let out was embarrassing. It only encouraged him. He fucked into you harder, his hand sliding between your bodies.

It's verging on painful. "Bill," you moaned, clawing at his shoulders. You don't want him to stop. His fingers circled your clit.

"Need you to cum," he groaned. His lips found yours again. His fingers worked faster. "I can't" he cut himself off with a growl, "can't hold back. Fuck, please cum." Your back arched and nails dug into his skin. He cursed. You cried, clenching around him. His hips slammed against yours once more, and then he stilled.

But something was wrong.

There was more pressure than there should be. You can't focus on it. Your eyes were too heavy. "Bill?" It came out groggy. His weight crashed into you. You were barely able to adjust him to allow yourself to breathe before you slipped into unconsciousness.

Author's Note: He said "I love you" and our girl assumed he meant in the friendly "Wow, you're so awesome and cool!" kinda way and not in the "In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." kinda way. He's definitely having his own internal freakout about her nonresponse to it.

Next

Before I Knew You Tag List: @believinghurts @frozenwisteria @maralisa124 @voiddylanobrosey @kyla-hale-blog @pearlsofme @minstens @sofriane @sheeple @alldaysdreamers @hotleaf-juice @elnmop @sweetphantomofyournoodler @itshardbeingamultistan @remuslupinscumslutt @thesecretwriter @cali-girl-in-heart @thxtmarvelchick @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @bitch-biblioklept @unstableyetloveable @psamathegoesrawr @camelliaflow3r @undeniablyyou @luciferismybabe @luvrsbian @pink-hufflepuff f @queen-of-elves @bountydroid @solkee @m-rae23 @queenofbeingdepressed @smolmexicangirl @manzanosstuff @hungrhay @mae-foster @seb-buckybarnes @idga-fudgeicle

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @charmingandfantasticfics @discogrrl @squishytomatoes @benonlinear @byelannie @itsccc @bluegiraffeplushie @pancakefancake

[your-nanas-house]

Rum, champagne and other excuses

◇ Pairing: Cillian Murphy X fem friend!Reader

◇ Warnings: fluff, sadness, smut, anger, trope friends to lovers, cheating, Cilly is divorced and Y/n in an unhappy marriage

◇ Summary: An unhappy married Y/n spends Christmas with her friend Cillian Murphy.

◇ Note: Another wonderfulllll collaboration with @mrkdvidal1989. Third fic of the new "event" 'From love to Love'. Go check it! 🥺

Ding, dong. The doll bell rang, and Y/n dried her hands with the kitchen cloth, so that she could fix her styled hair and Christmas dress before rushing quickly to the door, to let the guest in. She already knew who was standing outside in the cold. She could see in her mind's eye his silhouette, wearing one of his winter coats with his face hidden by the hood and his neck covered by a rich scarf.

As she walked to the front door, a smile slowly appeared on her face at the thought of his baby blue eyes being even more bright because of the reflection of the snow in them. His eyes really were her favourite place to seek comfort in, ever since their friendship developed. After some time, they were very close friends. The young woman stopped a moment to take in the sight in the mirror, she really tried her best and she didn’t even know why, but the way her hair were styled, the dress that hugged her mature curves was amazing, just like the soft make-up she put on just made her best features stand out in a soft but lovely way. She tried her best to look wonderful. 

Y/n’s hand wrapped around the door knob, twisting it before she opened it with a bright smile on her face.

“Just in time” she praised mockingly in a playful manner, opening the door wider and letting Cillian enter her house. Exchanging looks, they smiled as she offered to take his coat, hanging it on the hook. Without waiting she made her way back to the kitchen, knowing well that Cillian was more than familiar with her house. He wouldn't get lost or feel uncomfortable.

Y/n didn't wait longer than a couple minutes before the blue eyed man joined her, hands hidden in his pockets as he studied all the food prepared for them… a dish with sliced cheese catching his interest almost immediately.

“This looks amazing, Y/n” He praised with all honesty, smiling and showing off the dimples in his cheeks. As they started talking, Cillian started stealing the cheese from the topping, pretending to be innocent as she turned to reply, catching him red handed. Small, scolding yet amused smile creeping on her face involuntarily.

“Don’t worry, help yourself” she joked, earning a soft chuckle from him as he took more cheese from the dish, without worrying to upset her or ask for another clarification.

They looked at each other for a moment, both smiling slightly, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but a peaceful one… a special one, one that you can have with just a few people without feeling unease by the situation.

“Hope you’re hungry because there’s a lot to eat today” she broke the silence, giggling at her information as she showed and listed all the various options for the Christmas Eve dinner. Coming finally to the drinks by opening a cabinet of her house “So…” she started, searching “we have champagne.. and surprisingly.. rum,wine and.. beer” She listed, looking in his direction as she remained bent down. With her eyes fixed on the contents of the cabinet, she couldn't have noticed the way his eyes lazily travelled down her body, taking in everything he could before snapping quickly out of the trance, embarrassed by the urge. 

“Beer sounds pretty good to me” he replied, watching her rush to the fridge to take it for him “You’re lucky this time, I went to the mall in the morning to grab a few bottles of Guiness just for you” she smiled playfully, grabbing one from the fridge to pour it carefully in the glass, tilting it to the side, and letting the liquid slide along the glass of the tumbler, creating that way a lovely foam that reached the edge of the glass. Cillian sighed with satisfaction at the sight. 

”So classy” He commented with a cocked eyebrow looking at her, impressed. ”I still haven't ever met anyone that would pour Guinness better than you.” His tone of voice carried a hint of flirtiness in it, making Y/n’s cheeks turn pink. 

”Hey! Don't!” She chuckled, pointing at him with a warning. 

Cillian often would flirt with her purposely to make her blush, which was always an endless source of joy for him. 

”Alright, alright.” He replied, lifting his arms up in surrender. 

The conversation quickly took a turn on the new play that Cillian was starring in, written by Enda Walsh, their good friend that introduced Y/n to him, soon after his divorce with his previous wife.

Y/n was still sadly stuck in an unhappy marriage, her husband away from work probably busy spending Christmas with women he considered ‘hot chicks’. The women he always considered better. Prettier. Smarter. 

She didn’t mind though, after wasting all the tears on the bastard that would never change, crying her heart out at night, or even at Cillian's shoulder it had become normal. Something that didn’t hurt her anymore. Their marriage was already.. dead, after years of breaking, rotting away. Y/n spent enough time grieving it.

That’s the main reason because she allowed herself to become more attached to the sweet man that was standing in her kitchen, their bond strong and pure. Their friendship was one of the main reasons she survived the worst nights. 

“Is it just you and me?” Cillian asked suddenly and carefully, not wanting to upset her on that special night of the year, by addressing the situation she was in with her yet husband. 

Little smile appeared on his face as she replied in a light-hearted tone, her face remaining neutral, not bothered at all by his question. 

“Mhhm! Just you and me and… all this food” She added with a giggle, pointing at the counter before she started bringing everything to the living room “I made sure to prepare things that we could easily eat while sitting on the sofa, so we can watch a movie or.. just talk.” she hummed, preparing the coffee table.

The older man nodded softly, taking a seat on the soft, comfortable sofa, helping her set everything on the table before finally leaning back and relaxing too— his beer glass clicking against her own, a symbol of the beginning of their dinner.

”Cheers” He said, shooting her that cheeky smile of his. The one reaching his eyes. 

Y/n rolled her eyes with a giggle. 

”Cheers, Cilly.”

~~~

The evening passed smoothly, the food got eaten in less than four hours, and soon enough they were both sitting on the couch facing each other. Half a bottle of wine left from all the drinks they had. The alcohol was already working pretty well as they chatted away about everything and nothing. Cillian's eyes shone lightly, his cheeks red and lips stretched in a smile as he listened to the story. 

“I was around.. seventeen when it happened” Y/n giggled, barely containing her laughter “we went out for a family lunch, I was out with my grandpa and my siblings.. in a very nice place, you know those kind of cozy places that you just see and you’re like “fuck yes, I need to go there.”  We went there all together and this cute guy kept serving our table, he even stopped to talk with my grandpa” she continues, rambling about it, her eyes fixed on the ceiling “...and when we were about to leave, my grandpa moved his hand calling him over and trying to set a date between me and this guy, telling him that I thought he was cute and this kind of stuff” She giggled again, remembering that day “and he was all like “Yes, she thinks you’re cunt” she laughed harder due to the alcohol in her body before calming finally down, turning her head towards him to continue the rambling “the guy… the guy” she murmured, catching her breath while losing herself in his eyes. Cillian was resting close to her, his head on his fist as he kept listening to her without interrupting, his eyes staring at her in amazement… she was so beautiful when she looked like that, no worries, just rambling about life with pure joy in her beautiful eyes…. And he was leaning in now, his gaze shifting onto her lips, then back to her eyes, making her do the same automatically.

They both took a deep breath before Cillian closed his eyes, resting his forehead on hers, their noses brushed against each other in a tender eskimo kiss. Y/n was completely frozen, barely breathing at how close they were. The warmth from his body was making her feel even more drunk. She didn't dare to make the first move, but didn't have to wait for long as Cillian's patience suddenly ran thin.

”Fuck” He whispered before grabbing the back of her head, and pulling her face towards his, their lips connecting in a hungry, needy kiss. The tension that lingered around them for years suddenly finding an outlet. Y/n’s eyes fell shut immediately, letting him kiss her for a second before she tore away, shock written all over her face. Cillian's eyes were wide open at the realisation of what he did. 

”Look, I'm so sor-” He attempted to apologise, feeling badly for taking her signs wrong. ”I shouldn't have” he'd say, but out of nowhere Y/n’s hand grabbed the material of his shirt, connecting their lips again, while pushing him down onto the couch. 

Her body remained pressed against his, hands holding onto the fabric of his shirt while the kiss got more passionate— her tongue slipping in his mouth, exploring it as she hummed at the taste of the beer they had earlier.

Her body started to move unconsciously, making Cillian quickly grab her hips, his head tilting to the side reciprocating the kiss, then trying to connect their lips again, without success, as she moved away, keeping him down. 

Y/n broke them apart, moving slowly in a sitting position, her eyes staring at her friend’s desperate state, biting softly her bottom lip when she was his attempt. Her hands started to travel slowly down from his chest, reaching beneath his navel. With a few quick moves she managed to unbuckle it… Cillian’s breath getting heavier as she continued, now pulling them down with his help.

His pale freckled hands grabbed her hips again, sitting up before moving them down onto her smooth thighs. Brushing the skin just beneath the edge of her dress, before pulling it up carefully while looking her in the eyes, and as soon as he didn’t see any rejection in her eyes, her clothes were on the floor with his pants in less than a few seconds. He didn't waste any time, removing his shirt quickly as soon as Y/n finished unbuttoning it. The tension in his body was buzzing, making the erection in his briefs leak with precum like never before. Pulling her back down onto his lap, her clothed sex now pressing against him, making him hiss through his teeth at the sensation.

“‘M feeling like a teenager again” he breathed out through a soft chuckle, tilting his head back as soon as Y/n giggled breathless, grinding teasingly against him. “Fuck, fuck… Love—” he cursed, taking a hold of her hips to stop her movements, too excited to control himself.

Her eyes snapped back towards him, watching how his body shaked a bit and his grip tightened. “Did you….Did you just come?” Y/n asked, stunned, raising her body from his lap to look at the wet spot on Cillian’s grey undies, glancing back at his flushed and ashamed face. 

The actor tried to say something but she quickly shushed him with a hungry kiss, her hand slipping inside of his underwear, before grabbing his softening cock, pumping it while leaving wet kisses on his jawline down to his neck. Nibbling and sucking down on his Adam's apple, waiting for his cock to harden again, his cum helping her movements.

The woman stopped after a couple of minutes, watching Cillian’s body shake in pleasure and overstimulation, to move his underwear down his hairy and thick thighs, giving him a small squeeze before moving her head to the side; smiling softly when Cillian moved his hands down her hips, brushing the side of her thighs, following the lines of her stretch marks… pure admiration in his piercing baby blue eyes.

A soft sigh left her mouth as she got up slightly, rubbing the pink, leaking tip of his thick member against her entrance spreading the slickness before she slowly sunk down on his rock-hard cock, his eyes fluttering shut as his mouth hung open, his back arching as a low moan left his body. “Oh darling” he sighed in pleasure, holding her still so that he could get back his control and allow her to adapt at the new stretch. She hasn't had a cock inside of her for a while now and never one that thick. It felt so good, so fucking good, after the pain of stretching subsided. 

Y/n’s head lolled back as she grabbed his shoulders for support, sharp nail digging into his pale skin making him groan from the mixture of pleasure and pain. 

As soon as he started throwing her up and down on his shaft, the room filled up with loud moans, cries and whines that kept leaving her mouth, and which made it impossible for him to stop thrusting up to meet her halfway. 

Her body kept bouncing due to the thrusts of his hips, her hands reaching behind to free her round mature breasts from the restrictions of her bra, throwing it with the other clothes on the floor, allowing him to move closer. As soon as his breath fanned over her hardened nipples, the moans increased, becoming more high pitched, before she grabbed his head pulling it into her breasts. 

Without a second thought he started leaving wet kisses all over, sucking on her nipples while increasing the speed of thrusts. Y/n couldn't get enough of the muffled sounds coming from him, as she'd be able to come right there and then just because of it. 

”I'm.. I'm gonna…” She tried to stutter out as the knot in her stomach tightened, her walls clenching down on his cock so tightly, that his eyes fell shut and whine ripped out of his mouth as he mouthed on the skin of her breasts. 

”Fuck..” He breathed out, reaching for her clit, and rubbing quick circles on it while moving his hips faster, deepening the thrusts so much that his tip was softly nudging her cervix each time causing some pain and increasing the pleasure. 

Tears fell down her cheeks as her body shook, swallowed by the biggest orgasm she's ever had in her whole thirty three year old life, her eyes rolling her eyes back as she shook further, squirting on him. 

“Fuck, fuck” he cursed, letting a high pitched moan leave his mouth as he reached his own peak, shooting his load deep inside of her cunt. His baby blue eyes staring at their mixed fluids dripping down, wetting her sofa and their thighs.

Their deep breaths synchronise as they eyes locked, Y/n leaned slowly down, her bare chest pressed against his as she caught her breath. Breathing deeply and closing her eyes, the alcohol caused the sudden sleepiness that flooded her. 

After a couple minutes Cillian noticed it, and with a soft chuckle he carried her to the bedroom, laying by her side before he nodded off as well. 

~~~

As soon as Cillian opened his eyes, his arm involuntarily reached for Y/n that was supposed to be laying next to him, but his hand met only a cold spot on the sheets. His eyebrows furrowed with confusion as he ran hand through his hair, feeling a little hungover after the drinking and the mind blowing sex of the night before. His mood was great even though his head hurt a little bit. 

As soon as his vision became clear enough, he looked around the room, noticing Y/n pacing back and forth on the other side of the room, already fully dressed. Sitting up, he smiled.

”Merry Christmas, Darling.” Left his mouth with a thick accent, startling her. 

Y/n stood in one spot, frozen with an uncomfortable expression on her face. 

”Cillian..” She started off, shaking her head lightly as she hugged herself, trying to gather some confidence. He could see her defensive stance and bad mood right away, which got him worried. What happened? What did he do? Was it his fault?

”What’s wrong?” He asked, feeling uneasy, making Y/n sigh before hiding her face in her hands for a second, taking a deep breath before she straightened her back. 

”Cillian, we shouldn't have done that.” She said flatly, her face twisted in that distasteful expression, her eyes not daring to meet his piercing ones.

Seeing it Cillian's heart ached a little, as he processed what she just said. ”Wait.. what? Why?” He asked in complete confusion. The good mood that he woke up in disappeared in seconds. 

”Look, we just.. drank too much, okay? I'm married and.. and we're friends! Friends don't.. do that!” She stated, frustration showing clear as a day. Cillian shook his head in disbelief, not believing that his best friend was actually treating him like that. 

”Do what? Fuck?” He mocked out of anger, as he jumped out of the bed, picking up clothes from the floor as he started dressing up in a rush as the humiliation flooded his mind. ”You can lie to yourself, Y/n, but I've seen how you looked at me.” His tone was harsh, a feeling of betrayal blossoming in his heart. Buckling up his belt, he turned to face her. Taking a step closer, he leaned down being eye to eye with her. ”You wanted me as much as I wanted you, but sure. Blame the fucking alcohol and be the coward that you are right now. I'm out.” He spat out in anger, feeling foolish for believing that there was something special between them. Maybe she actually... loved him back. 

Before she managed to say anything back, he passed by her in the doorway without a word, leaving a path of the gorgeous scent of his cologne behind before she heard the front door slam shut. 

Fuck.

~~~ 

Y/n’s heart was beating like crazy, hammering against her chest as she kept jogging, her eyes looking everywhere to find the short man she used to call best friend before their argument.

After that morning, they didn’t try to contact each other again, and… she deserved it. She knew well why he remained silent and didn't contact her after the bad morning they spent together. Y/n had several days to think about everything, and it didn't take long to realise that.. she panicked. Sex with Cillian was the first time she ever “cheated” on her “husband” and first sex she had for many years. Pushing him away was a knee jerk reaction that she regretted as soon as she saw the betrayal and heartbreak in his beautiful eyes. 

But at this point, it was too late. At least that's what she thought, until she realised that… she wouldn’t be able to move on from him. Cillian was her home. 

After spending a week crying her eyes out and telling her husband that she’s divorcing, Y/n was determined. Determined to fix what she ruined with fear and panic, and let the love of her life know what she felt for him. 

The occurrences were still playing freshly in her mind, his words, her words… the look of pure sadness in his gorgeous eyes.

She was running miles when she finally spotted him, wearing the same coat he had on that night, he looked even smaller, his body all tense and closed because of the wind that was blowing around them.

“Cillian!” she screamed, running faster to catch up with him, her heartbeat now hammering in her ears “Cillian!” she repeated desperately, tears starting to cover her view, her head up and in his direction… distracting her from the street she was running on. 

A root was enough to make her stumble and fall down harshly on the ground, her hands trying to prevent any damage on her face, her heart was beating too fast and her state of panic didn’t allow her to realise that the man she was calling, stopped in his tracks and was now jogging towards her with a worried look.

“Fuck, Y/n! Are you alright?” he asked, reaching for her to check if there were any injuries, helping her carefully get up “Are you hurt? Do you feel pain anywhere?” he kept asking, his eyes studying her with worry. She just shook her head, hearing his voice, tears falling from her eyes as she moved closer, hugging him in desperation. More sobs and tears leaving her eyes.  

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” she continue to repeat in a soft tone, kneeling slowly down to hug his legs devastated “I didn’t mean a single thing, Cillian—” she sobbed, not letting him speak “I fucking want you too!.. No I.. I want more than a fuck” Y/n looked quickly at him, tears covering her view again “I-I want more.. I love you” she continued, grabbing the fabric of his pants tighter “I can show you, I even left Brian for you” she added quickly, staring up at him from her kneeled position. He knew how difficult it was for her to end things with her now former husband, so it kind of made him smile.

”Y/n, get up.” He pleaded, grabbing her under her arms and pulling her onto her feet. Looking up and down again to make sure she wasn't injured from the fall. 

Sighing deeply he thought for a moment about her words, eyes widening at the realisation. “You mean it?” he whispered, staring down at her with his piercing blue eyes. 

The woman nodded softly, trying to not let her bottom lip tremble. “Yeah” she whispered, showing that she wasn’t actually wearing her wedding ring anymore.

A breathy laugh left Cillian’s mouth as he nodded, his hands holding her face softly to be able to kiss her. 

He kept gifting her with small pecks on her lips as they kept whispering soft promises to each other of the beginning of a relationship, the promises to give the other what their previous partner didn’t want to give them, the promises of a happy life and pure, cruel honesty every time.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

[slut4thebroken]

Dad/stepdad finding your vibrator hcs

Tommy Shelby, Cillian Murphy, Raymond Leon, Jackson Rippner, Lenny Miller

(All accurate to the universe’s time period)

Tommy Shelby - To say he was shocked would be an understatement. At first he was concerned— were you suffering from hysteria and he didn’t even know? But then he remembered that vibrators have very recently started being used for more… personal activities. He confronted you about it anyway though. You blushed and stuttered out “I- I can explain..” and he found it amusing at first, but he kept his expression stern. It was when you broke down crying that he suddenly softened. “I’m sorry, daddy. Please don’t be mad..” You cried out, making him pull you into a hug and shush you, trying to calm you down. “I’m not mad, love.” He said gently. “Just… tell me what it’s for.. I promise I won’t be mad.” You looked up at him with wide, teary eyes to see if he was being truthful. When you found no sign of a lie, you whispered that you use it for self pleasure, which he already knew. He just wanted to hear you say it. He sighed and shook his head. “You think you’re old enough to be playing with adult toys like this?” He asked, and you muttered out an excuse of how you just turned 18. “Maybe so, but I still don’t think it’s appropriate at your age.” That triggered something inside of you and you whined about how you’re an adult and you can do what you want, acting far too bratty for his liking. “Is that so? An adult, are you?” He had a condescending smirk on his lips and he pretended to think it over, then scoffed a laugh. “Fine then. If you’re an adult I guess I should start punishing you like one.” His tone was noticeably darker now. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Cillian Murphy - He knew he should’ve ignored it, respected your privacy… But he just kept thinking about you using it. The pretty sounds you probably made, the way your cheeks probably became flushed… But then he started thinking about you using it with someone.. Did you have a secret boyfriend? Or were you exploring your sexuality all on your own… Deciding to do the responsible thing, he started planning out when and how to talk to you about all of these new things you may be feeling as a developing young woman. One day he sat down with you, gently told you what he knew and reassured you when you immediately became embarrassed. He told you that it was natural and nothing to be ashamed of… “A young girl like yourself needs someone to guide her, teach her what’s right and how to be safe.” He said softly, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. “As your father, I’m afraid that role falls on me.” He tried not to seem too excited by the idea. Standing up, he walked over to where the toy was hidden and brought it back over to the bed, handing it to you. “I need to make sure you’re using it the right way. I’d hate for my little girl to get hurt.” He frowned, watching as your eyes widened. He didn’t let you protest as he helped removed your clothes and laid you down on the bed. “Now show me exactly how you’re using it, sweetheart.”

Raymond Leon - At first, he almost mistook it for something else, but when he did a double take, he realized what it actually was. A rush of emotions hit him, the main ones being anger, disappointment, and arousal. Were you turning into a whore? Did he do something wrong when raising you? When you came home one day, he was waiting on your bed, the vibrator next to him. You were immediately hit with a wave of embarrassment and humiliation- good. You started trying to defend yourself, saying it’s not what it looks like. “Don’t try to play innocent.” He scoffed. “Get over my fucking lap.” His voice was so harsh, it made you tear up as you begged him not to. So he roughly grabbed you and pulled you over his thighs, then flipped your skirt up. He spanked you until his hand was burning and there were little welts on your ass. You were sobbing loudly, the pain becoming too much, and with the way you kept squirming and rubbing against his cock, he eventually got hard. He forced the vibrator between your legs, making you apologize for your whorish behavior as you came over and over again until he was satisfied. “Get on your knees.” He demanded and you slid off his lap to the floor, still sobbing and almost hyperventilating from the overwhelming pleasure. “There are consequences for acting like a whore.” He spat, quickly opening his pants to free his cock, making your breath catch in your throat. “So, be a good girl for once and finish what you started.”

Jackson Rippner - He had been trying so hard to be a good father figure- god knows you desperately needed it. But as soon as he found a vibrator hidden away (very poorly) in one of your drawers, he just lost all control. He managed to wait a few days until it was only the two of you in the house, then confronted you. This wasn’t his proudest moment… but he didn’t regret it. “What would your mom think, huh?” He asked, subtly threatening you. “I would hate to have to tell her… but maybe we can work something out.” He said coyly, enjoying the way you blushed and squirmed and pouted. He made you beg for it, for his cock and for him to not tell your mom. Once he had you underneath him with his cock fully sheathed in your little cunt, he practically plowed into you until you cried. “This is your own fault.” He hissed. “The only reason this is happening is because you teased me by leaving it somewhere for me to find.” You sobbed harder and shook your head, unable to do anything else to protest. “You’ve been a fucking tease since day one with those tiny little shirts and the skirts that barely cover your ass… I’m fucking sick of it.” He growled, getting more worked up. “From now on, you’re gonna let me use this cunt whenever I want, or I’ll tell your mom about your little secret, and how you seduced me and begged me to fuck you.”

Lenny Miller - You should’ve known better than to think you could hide things from him. Just like you should’ve known better than to think you could lie to him. But when he confronted you, you denied it. Which he figured you might do… That’s why he set up a camera in your room, hidden in a vent but angled perfectly at your bed. The quality was not the best, but it was good enough to still obviously show what you were doing. He can’t even count the amount of times he came to that footage of you. When you tried lying, he sighed and reached for the remote, already having the tape ready in the tv. The second it turned on, you lips parted in shock and your face paled, then a very dark blush took over your cheeks. “There are a few different ways this can go. Option one: the camera stays up and you can keep the vibrator. Option two: I punish you, then confiscate it, but I’ll take down the camera.” He paused, lowering his voice into something darker and thick with arousal. “Or option three: you show me just how sorry you are for owning something like this. I’m still going to punish you, but if you do a good enough job begging, I might just let you keep it.” He said coyly. He waited impatiently for you to choose and when you couldn’t get any words out, still glancing at the tv, he chose for you. He spanked you until you cried and made you suck his cock to prove you were sorry, then forced you to ride him while you begged for his forgiveness.

[mydear-corinthian]

Birthday || Cillian Murphy x reader

Synopsis: Cillian arriving on his birthday back to your shared home after an exhausting Oppenheimer work. Pairing: Cillian Murphy x reader Warnings: SMUT +18, squirting, praising kink, rough sex, p in v, creampie Notes: ENTIRELY FICTIONAL. No hate to Cillian's wife! (we love her) Happy (advance) Birthday my man, Cillian Murphy <3 Click here to see the MAIN MASTERLISTClick here to see the CILLIAN MURPHY masterlist

Cillian is finally free to rest. For the past few months, he has been traveling all around the world with Oppenheimer's premiers, interviews, new promotions with different brands, and of course, the awarding ceremonies.

Due to the busy schedule your husband had, you weren't able to talk to him physically, kiss him, touch him, go out with him, or complete your day with him for months. During the busy period, both of you will hop on Skype or Zoom every week to talk about what's happening.

Now that the promotions and other interviews are finished, Cillian can finally come back home to his hometown in Cork, Ireland with you and his family. He'll arrive no later than May 23, just a day before his 48th birthday.

Currently, you're in your shared home, alone. Laying down on the massive queen-sized bed. With your phone in your hand, you texted him.

"Hello, love. Where are you already?" you typed.

After a few minutes, your phone buzzed, and a text notification popped up, showing Cillian's name.

"I'm in Ireland already. I'll let you know if I'm in Cork. I love you." Cillian replied.

"Alright. Have a safe trip, Cill. I love and miss you." you texted the last time, smiling like an idiot before turning off your phone, and placing it on top of the nightstand beside you. Getting comfortable, you pulled up the comforter up to your chest before turning off the lamp and sleep.

<>

You woke up to the sound of the front door being opened.

Yawning, you stood up, rubbing your eyes as you grabbed your white robe that was hanging on the back of your shared room.

As you walked down the stairs, you saw Cillian. His hair was longer than the last Skype call you had and you find it hot. His luggage and his carry-on bag were dropped on his side when he saw you.

You sprinted over to embrace him tightly and warmly, taking in his scent before planting a quick kiss on his lips. You felt planted in the moment, protected and cherished in his familiar hug. Everything else seemed to fade away as your heart was filled with the delight of being reunited. You drew back just enough so that you could meet his eyes and saw the same joy in.

"I've missed you, Cill," you said, smiling.

"I missed you so much, (y/n),"

Your lips and his made contact again. The both of you exchange a sweet and short passionate kiss.

You broke the kiss, letting out an exhale, your face still smiling.

"You must be tired, darling. Just leave the bags there, the kids will handle that tomorrow," you said, guiding the way to your shared bedroom upstairs.

You were shocked to feel Cillian's hands grab your face and give you a hard kiss as soon as you two got to the door. Your eyes widened at the quick action, but you were also craving for this. You haven't felt or seen each other in months. You gave him an aggressive kiss back, and as the kiss increased, you reached out to hold his neck and tasted one other's melting tongues once again.

"Cill - Aren't you tired? We can do this tomorrow," you interrupted.

"Oh fuck no. I want you now, love. I've missed you so much," Cillian replied.

"The kids aren't home, by the way. They're both in a sleepover with their friends."

"That's good. No one can hear you scream then,"

Cillian lowered you onto the mattress carefully and kept his kiss intact. You took off your sleepwear shirt and robe, exposing your hard nipples and breasts, as he carefully undid his shirt. Cillian bit and sucked you as he marked you as his, his lips moving from your jaw to your neck. You gripped a fistful of his hair and groaned with ecstasy.

"Fuck - you're so pretty .. and hot .." he muttered in between kisses, adorning your whole face and neck.

Cillian slowly kissed you lower and lower until he reached your covered cunt. Your black panties soaking from the recent touch. He chuckled, putting his face in front of your wet and needy cunt.

"So fucking wet for me, huh?" he teased, biting his lower lip at the sight.

"Oh yes, Cillian .. please,"

"Please what?"

"Fuck me, Cillian. Fuck me, please .." you begged, clenching your cunt feeling wetter and wetter every time he speaks.

Cillian let out a soft chuckle before removing your black lace panties. Tossing it on the floor. You can feel his breath in your cunt.

Finally, he devoured you. His tongue circled around your clit and sucked it harshly making you whimper loudly. The sound of his tongue doing magic to your cunt echoed throughout the room, eating you like a thirsty man.

"I missed you. I missed your touch. I missed your taste .. God, fuck, you taste so good," he praised, continuing to eat you out.

Your back arched at the pleasure, taking a fist full of his hair, pinning him down your cunt deeper, your thighs locking his face.

No words can come out of your throat to feel the kind of pleasure. You let out a series of moans and gasps, not even worrying if the neighbors can hear you.

Feeling a knot in your stomach performing, your legs trembled, digging his face deeper and deeper as you let out a very loud moan, your cunt clenching.

"Mhm cum for me, baby .. yeah that's right .. fuck," Cillian muttered as his tongue flicked your clit even faster, helping you to reach your peak.

"Fuck!" you let out a loud moan as you started to squirt. Your juices squirting all over his mouth and on the bedsheets. A white substance leaking out of your cunt.

"Shit, that was hot," he commented.

"No, Cill .. please, I need more .. I need you,"

"You've missed me that much, huh? Well, since you asked properly,"

Cillian removed his pants alongside his black boxers, tossing them on the floor. His cock sprung open, pre-cum leaking.

His hand strokes it for a while before entering you slowly, feeling how your tight cunt takes him. Cillian let out a low groan as he entered you fully. His pace started out slow, allowing you to adjust to his huge size. Your breasts bounce at each thrust as you felt his cock inside you. Slowly, he started penetrating faster and deeper, allowing him to pleasure all of your sensitive spots. You moaned out loud as you felt your g-spot touch his cock, your hands crumpling the bedsheet. His pelvis hit your hips as he thrusted harshly making a series of loud skin-clapping sounds.

"God, you feel so good, (y/n)," he groaned, his eyes fully shutting, feeling every spot of your cunt inside you.

"Yes yes yes yes! Oh, Cillian .."

You felt a huge difference with his cock and the toy that you have in your closet. When he was away, you would fuck yourself with a toy, imagining lustful scenarios of him fucking you harshly. His cock felt better.

"C'mon, baby .. let the neighbors know how much I fucking please you,"

You let out a much louder moan as you felt your orgasm coming again. Cillian's fingers toying with your hardened nipples as he harshly pounded you.

"I'm gonna - I'm.. fuck! I'm cumming .. I'm cumming, oh!" you shouted, feeling like bursting at any second.

"Me too, baby .. Oh yes,"

After a few harsh pounds, you finally came and so did Cillian. Letting his seed pour inside your walls, filling you up. Your legs trembled as you clenched your cunt on his cock.

Cillian finally pulled out, a huge load of your cum and his leaking out of your penetrated hole, staining the bedsheets again.

"Look at you dripping at my cum. You're such a good girl," he praised before kissing you but this time, more softer and passionate.

"I love you, Cill."

"I love you more, (y/n),"

You looked at the wall clock, checking on time. When your eyes saw the time, you smiled. It's 12 midnight.

"Happy Birthday, love." you greeted.

"Oh, it's my birthday now? I guess I deserve another round of gift, hm?"

Chuckling at his response, you playfully hit him on the shoulder before grabbing his face and kissing him again.

The two of you ended up sleeping at 4 in the morning that day. 

[queenshelby]

Playtime with Daddy (One Shot)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x "Stepdaughter" Reader

Warning: Smut, Daddy! Kink, Roleplay

Note: Everyone is over 18!

It was a Sunday afternoon when you were alone at home with your stepfather Cillian and, as usual, you spent some time together, playing games. 

Cillian had a magnetic charm about him that made you feel safe and protected, despite the fact that he had been married to your mother for only a few short months. His warm smile and twinkling eyes drew you closer and his gentle manner put you at ease. As you sat beside him during your game, the scent of his cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the subtle aroma of wood and musk, filling you with a sense of warmth and comfort.

"So," said Cillian, glancing over at you fondly, "how have you been feeling lately? Any troubles I should know about?" His voice was soft, almost tender, as if he genuinely cared about your wellbeing.

You hesitated before answering, the corners of your mouth pulling downwards slightly. "Well," you began, your voice cracking just a bit, "I have been a little curious about things lately." You paused, looking up at Cillian, who gazed back at you with an unreadable expression. "Things like, you know..."

Cillian raised an eyebrow, his face impassive. "Like what?"

Cillian asked, his curiosity piqued. There was something about the way you hesitated to finish your sentence that intrigued him. He couldn't help but wonder what exactly it was that you wanted to know more about.

"Well," you started again, your voice trembling ever so slightly, "I guess I'm just...curious about the way I feel, down there... I have this funny sensation when I am spending time with you." The words tumbled out of your mouth faster than you could stop them. Your cheeks reddened as you looked away, hoping he wouldn't be too upset by your confession.

"It's nothing really," you whispered softly, "I mean, I don't think it's anything bad..."

Cillian chuckled softly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Hey now," he murmured gently, "There's no need to feel embarrassed," he went on to say before suggesting that he would have a look.

"You want to have a look at my special place?" you managed to whisper, your heart pounding against your chest like a trapped bird. You could feel the blush creeping up your neck until it reached your ears, causing them to turn hot and prickly. Cillian's gaze held steady, locked onto yours, his lips curling into a small smile.

"Why not?" he replied, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "After all, we're family now, aren't we?" He leaned back slightly, giving you space to rise from your seat.

"I suppose so," you agreed meekly, feeling a strange mix of apprehension and excitement swirling inside you.

"Very well then sweetie, lie down on the bed for me so that I can have a look at your little hole to see if everything is okay," Cillian asked you as he reached down to remove your panties, exposing your wetness.

You hesitated but eventually complied, reluctantly lying down on the bed in the dimly lit room. You shivered, the chilly air permeating your skin.

"Good girl now spread your legs apart for me so I can see it properly," Cillian instructed, his voice hushed yet commanding.

Your heart raced, but you complied, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

He moved closer, running his fingers gently across your inner thighs, sending chills up your spine.

"Just relax, baby," he whispered reassuringly, his tone soothing your anxiety.

As he examined you closely, his eyes flickered with a strange glint.

"You know, honey, I need to ensure that everything is good down there," he said softly, reaching out to gently stroke your thigh. "To do that, I might need to take a look inside."

You swallowed hard but something about his gentle manner made you feel safe. "It's alright, baby," he assured you, noticing your apprehension. "I promise it won't hurt. In fact, I think you'll enjoy it," Cillian coaxed, his warm breath fanning against your inner thigh. 

"Okay daddy," you finally mumbled as his fingers grazed your lips, tracing the outline before delicately parting them, exposing your soft pink hole. 

"Relax, baby," Cillian murmured, his voice like a lullaby, soothing your frayed nerves. "I'm just going to have a look, hmm?" he then said, and you clenched your fists, trying to brace yourself for what was about to come.

His finger brushed against your entrance, causing a jolt of sensation to shoot through your body.

He parted your labia softly, revealing the delicate inner workings of your body. His scrutiny was meticulous, as if he were examining a priceless artifact.

"Everything looks good so far," he murmured. "Your opening is very small though, isn't it? It's quite beautiful, actually."

Your cheeks turned red, and you wanted to crawl under the covers from embarrassment. But his kind tone made you feel less self-conscious.

"You see, baby," he explained, "this little hole here is usually reserved for your partner someday, but today, daddy gets to explore it firsthand."

His words shocked you, but his soft touch felt comforting, almost loving. You bit your lip, unsure how to respond.

"Don't worry," he whispered, stroking your cheek. "I'll be gentle. I will just put one finger inside now, alright?"

Cillian's index finger slowly pushed past your barrier, breaching your sacred space. You gasped, unprepared for the intrusion. A mix of discomfort and excitement coursed through you. His finger wiggled deeper, stretching you open. You squirmed beneath him, biting your lip to suppress moans.

"Does it hurt much?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"No, not really," you lied, trying to convince yourself. "It feels weird, I guess."

His hand cupped your face, turning your chin upward toward him. "You don't have to pretend with me, sweetheart," he murmured, brushing away the tears that had pooled in your eyes. "Tell me how it feels."

"It's just so big," you whimpered, clutching onto his arm, "and it hurts a little."

Cillian nodded his head, looking deep into your eyes. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, his voice low and full of affection. "It will get better once I start moving my finger in and out a bit. You will see."

He then winked at you, then carefully inserted another finger along with the first one.

The burn intensified, searing through your core, and you arched off the mattress, letting out a muffled cry.

"It's all right," he consoled you, kissing your forehead tenderly. "You're doing great. Just breathe deeply and focus on my touch."

You listened to his advice, inhaling a sharp breath and exhaling long and slow.

With encouragement from Cillian, you began to relax, allowing your muscles to loosen around his fingers. The discomfort eased, replaced by a new sensation that made you arch your back and groan softly.

"That's it, sweetheart," Cillian praised, his voice thickening. "Feel it for me. Let me hear those noises you make."

A flush swept over your face, but you let loose a soft moan, reveling in the odd pleasure. Cillian grinned wickedly, his fingers thrusting faster, deeper.

"There you go, baby," he crooned, his voice husky with lust. "Let daddy listen to those pretty sounds you're making."

You cried out, unable to hold back any longer. Your hands balled into fists, nails digging into the sheets, as wave after wave of bliss consumed you.

"Maybe daddy can put something else in to your little hole now that you are a little more stretched out," Cillian suggested, withdrawing his fingers and watching your reaction carefully.

You glanced up at him, your gaze filled with curiosity and trepidation.

"Like what?" you managed to ask between ragged breaths.

A devilish grin stretched across his face. "Well," he teased, leaning close to whisper in your ear, "maybe a toy or even…"

You held your breath, waiting for him to finish.

"Or even what, daddy?" you prodded, desperate to see where this would lead.

"Maybe daddy could put his penis into your hole," Cillian teased, his tone laced with mischief. He reached down and rubbed himself through his pants, hinting at what he meant. You gulped, your insides twisting nervously.

"But wouldn't that hurt?" you ventured, hoping to stall the inevitable.

"Only when it first goes in," Cillian responded, a sly twinkle in his eye. "And then you will get used to it and it will even feel quite nice," he said and you flushed scarlet, unable to believe what you were hearing. 

"Are you sure it won't hurt too much?" you managed to ask, swallowing hard.

"I am sure," Cillian said. "Despite, you are a big girl now and big girls do this kind of thing all the time."

You felt your heart pounding fast, your mouth suddenly dry. The idea of having your stepfather's penis inside you terrified you, but at the same time, the thought aroused you. 

"Okay daddy," you stammered, your voice trembling. "I... I think I'm ready," you forced out, your palms sweating.

Cillian patted your cheek, his smile growing wider.

"Alright, baby," he said, pulling his pants down slowly. "We are going to do this together."

You stared wide-eyed at his erect member, the sight both terrifying and mesmerizing.

"Are you sure, daddy?" you whispered, a lump forming in your throat.

"Oh, yes, baby," Cillian replied confidently, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. "I've been dreaming about this moment ever since you moved in with us."

He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs.

His erection stood tall and hard, eager to breach your untouched depths. A bead of sweat trickled down your neck, and your breathing quickened. You knew what was coming, but you couldn't stop it.

"Take a deep breath, baby," Cillian encouraged, his eyes locked on yours. You took a steadying breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

"Now, I'm going to guide you through this," he assured you, placing a hand on your hip. "I'll be gentle, I promise."

You nodded, your grip tightening on the sheets underneath you. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you, baby," he breathed warmly against your skin. "I promise it'll be worth it."

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his manhood resting against your folds.

"Okay," you muttered, bracing yourself for the intrusion.

"Here we go," Cillian said firmly, guiding your hips upward slightly. "Daddy will put his penis in now, okay?" Cillian spoke softly, the intimacy of their situation heavy in the air. You couldn't find the words to speak, your mouth dry and your heart hammering madly in your chest. The silence hung thick between you, the tension mounting.

"It's going to feel different from earlier," Cillian said, pausing briefly. "Remember, I told you big girls do this all the time? So you're going to be a big girl too, aren't you?"

You nodded silently, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

Your heart pounded erratically in your chest, the anticipation building heavily within you. You couldn't believe what was happening, but something deep down urged you to continue.

Cillian guided his tip to your entrance, his swollen shaft throbbing against your sensitive flesh. You tried to remember to breathe, but the anticipation made it difficult. With every centimeter that inched closer, the heat built between your legs.

"Just push back against me, baby," Cillian whispered in your ear, his hot breath fanning against your neck as his cockhead slipped inside you.

You strained to accommodate him, feeling his thickness stretch you painfully. Your breath caught in your throat, and you gripped the sheets tighter. The sensation was overwhelming; it was unlike anything you'd experienced before.

"Shh," Cillian murmured, his fingers stroking your hair. "Just breathe, baby. Relax."

You nodded, forcing yourself to remain still, despite the burning discomfort that radiated from your core.

"You're doing great," Cillian encouraged, his voice hoarse with anticipation. "Just breathe and let daddy in."

You nodded, your hands shaking as you attempted to grasp the sheets beneath you. "It feels so huge," you admitted, the truth spilling freely from your lips.

"I know, baby," Cillian said, his voice cracking slightly. "That's why you should relax and let daddy guide you through this."

He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips cool and comforting. "Just push back against me," he whispered, his breath fanning against your heated skin as he reached your barrier.

You winced, the sudden burn catching you off guard. He paused, his breath shallow, as if reading your reaction. "Sshh," he murmured, his fingers combing through your hair. "I know, baby," he said, his voice cracking slightly.

"The next bit will hurt, but it's necessary for daddy to fully put his penis into you," he said, his voice hushed and low. "I'm going to push now. Are you ready, baby?" Cillian asked, his voice strained with anticipation.

"Yes, daddy," you answered, your breath hitching unevenly as, with one swift thrust, he tore through your barrier.

You screamed out, your nails scratching his back.

"Shh, baby," Cillian soothed, his hand cradling your cheek. "It's over now. I am all the way inside you now," Cillian murmured, his breath tickling your ears as he started to move inside you.

"You're such a brave girl," he added, his voice thick with emotion. "Daddy loves you so much."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a strange sense of pride wash over you. Despite the intense pain, you realized that you had done something incredible. You had let your stepfather inside you. The realization sent a rush of warmth through your veins.

"I love you too, daddy," you managed to say, your voice cracking like fragile porcelain as Cillian thrusted deeper inside you.

His response came swiftly, a feverish grunt coupled with a desperate thrust.

"Fuck!" he hissed, his chest heaving with exertion. "You're so tight, baby."

You moaned softly, your body responding involuntarily to his passionate movements.

"So fucking tight," Cillian growled, his breaths becoming ragged. "Oh, god, I'm losing control," he groaned, the intensity of his words echoing the fervor of his thrusts.

You moaned, your nails clawing at the sheets beneath you. Each surge of sensation threatened to unravel every thread of restraint left within you.

"You make daddy feel so good," Cillian rasped, his voice barely audible in the dimly lit room.

The scent of sex lingered in the air, a potent reminder of the taboo act unfolding between you.

Your toes curled instinctively, your body reacting to the raw sensuality of the encounter.

"Do you know, baby," Cillian whispered into your ear, his breath hot and intoxicating, "how much I've fantasized about this moment?"

You shook your head, the pain dulling into a steady throb.

"I never imagined it would hurt this much," you whispered, your voice weak and trembling.

Cillian slowed his pace, his thrusts weakening with concern. "I'm sorry, baby," he murmured, his voice tinged with guilt. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

The dim light filtered through the window, casting shadows on the walls. You tried to sit up, but the effort was overwhelming.

"It's fine, daddy," you lied, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I'm just getting used to it."

You didn't want him to worry about you, even though the throbbing in your pelvis was unbearable.

"Just keep going," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cillian sighed, his grip tightening on your waist. "Okay, baby," he agreed, his voice strained with desire. "But if you need me to stop, tell me, alright?"

You nodded, your lips pressed tightly together. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you weren't enjoying yourself.

"Daddy is almost done," he promised, his words punctuated by heavy, labored breaths. 

You lay there, panting and drenched in sweat, but there was no denying the pleasure that coursed through you with each thrust.

"Daddy wants to show you how much you mean to me," he murmured, his voice thick with passion.

His words stirred feelings within you you'd never known existed.

"I'll make it good for you, baby," he promised, his kisses peppering your neck.

You moaned softly, the sensation of his erection filling you erasing the lingering sting of pain.

Cillian's thrusts turned from tentative to relentless, his rhythmic motions driving you wild. The dampness of your thighs and the smell of sweat and sex enveloped you, cocooning you in a haze of lust.

"God, baby," Cillian groaned, his fingers digging into your hips. "You feel so perfect," he told you and, suddenly, it hit you. A wave of pleasure surged through your body, and you clutched the sheets tightly, wanting to scream but fearing it would ruin the moment.

"It's okay, baby," Cillian murmured, his thrusts slowing down, allowing you to revel in the euphoria coursing through you. "Cry out, baby."

You did, your voice breaking through the silence, a high-pitched wail that echoed in the enclosed space. It was liberating, frightening, painful, and pleasurable – all at once.

The release of your pent-up emotions, accompanied by the physical demands of being fucked roughly by your stepfather, was an indescribable rush. Your eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy, overwhelmed by the tidal wave of orgasms crashing down upon you.

"Oh, fuck! Baby, you're squeezing me so tight," Cillian exclaimed, his grip tightening on your hips. Every thrust drove you further into a state of frenzied bliss. This was forbidden, wrong, but oh, so enticing.

"Daddy is going to put some of his cum into you now, okay?" Cillian murmured, his fingers skimming along your stomach as he neared his orgasm.

"What do you mean, daddy?" you asked, a wave of unease washing over you.

Cillian smirked, his eyes glistening with lust. "Nothing to worry about, baby," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Just a little something special for your hole. Like a magic potion," he groaned as his climax approached. He plunged his erection deeper within you, thrusting with a renewed urgency as he tumbled over the edge. 

The force behind his release surprised you, as his semen surged into you, filling you completely.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, panting heavily, thrusting into you. "Soak it all up for daddy," he groaned.

You squirmed beneath him, feeling the wetness oozing from your sore pussy. His release had filled you to the brim, creating a strange sensation that contrasted sharply with the raw pleasure you had experienced moments ago.

As Cillian continued to thrust into you, you could feel him soften slowly, his erection subsiding.

"Baby," he gasped, his voice strained and raw with exhaustion. "I am spent," he groaned as the intense encounter had left you both drained. 

"Me too," you told him. "And I am so glad I have married an actor," you smiled, looking at him intently. "This kind of role play is a real turn on for me and I bet you had a lot of fun playing your role as my stepfather, huh?"

Cillian chuckled softly, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. "Yeah, I must admit, it wasn't half bad," he agreed before pulling you in for a kiss. "I hope you enjoyed it."

"Loved it," you whispered, nibbling on his bottom lip before pushing him away slightly. "But I have to confess something."

"What's that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"It was kind of awkward calling you 'daddy' during sex," you confessed, blushing slightly. 

"Yeah," Cillian agreed, running a hand through his messy brown hair. "It does sound a bit strange, doesn't it?"

"Well, it was still hot," you admitted, giggling nervously.

"Of course it was," Cillian laughed, giving you a playful nudge. "I'm irresistibly good at my job, right?"

"I suppose," you joked, rolling your eyes playfully. "I'll give you that much credit."

[siddhigirls]

your favourite girl

pairing: cillian!teacher x afab!reader

preface: mr murphy was your english teacher and he loved you, a little too much, but you were a little trouble maker

warnings: age gap, teacher x student relationship, light smut:)

mr. murphys class was your least favourite. you hated it because all he did was just pick on you the entire class, its like he actually did hate you. and not only that his class makes you want to fall asleep. all he did was read some books in those stupid glasses he wears. you walked into last period immediately having no patience for his cheeky attitude, he sat at his desk with his blue button up shirt, his sleeves rolled up showing his slightly veined arms, his hair in a certain way that shows off his jawline, his piercing blue eyes looking directly at you. “alright pull out your books, today you guys should start your essays, but before you start i’ll explain the assignment once again for some of you guys who weren’t there” looking directly at you, you scoffed already having no patience today.

he explained the assignment but all you did was just play on your phone, mr murphy forced you to sit in the front for some reason but it really got on your nerves. you barely heard any of the instructions but it won’t matter cause you’ll ask one of your classmates. “y/n pay attention.” he says in a bossy tone, you rolled your eyes and continued scrolling on instagram, “okay detention after school till 4:30. and we will have a long talk about your attitude” he said walking up taking your phone away from your hands. “give it back. and i won’t stay im busy after school” everyone’s now looking at both of you guys arguing, your blood is boiling but you couldn’t do anything about it. “too bad you’ll miss out on your plans, you’re wasting my time now im wasting yours.” he said and then continuing on whatever he was saying. minutes pass by and the class is silent, you’re doing your work not even looking at him. while the class was working mr murphy was looking through your phone, curious to your private life. he was looking at your texts and came across you and your boyfriends texts.

he was snooping okay, he was looking at the texts between you guys which made him a bit jealous. he scrolled until he saw the texts between you guys last night, he came across to a rather scandalous photo of you, you in a bra and panties, he scrolled up a little more to see a thumbnail video of you taking off your underwear showing off your throbbing wet clit. he immediately turned off your phone feeling guilty of what he just did, but god did it turn him on. he hated the thought of you wanting to fuck another man though, you were his and only his.

class came to an end and you went to mr murphys desk to take your phone back. “can i have my phone back mr murphy” you pleaded, all you wanted to do is just go home and relieve yourself. “no y/n. sit, let’s talk.” he said sternly, but when he looked up at you all he saw was your cleavage in his face which caught him off guard. you sat down in a chair right in front of the white board, he shut the door as he laid back on the board in your sight. “so y/n what’s with the attitude today? i want us to have a good student teacher relationship, believe it or not i actually like you” a little too much he thought to himself, you let out an airy laugh, “you don’t like me.”

your response caught him aback. “why do you think that” he said getting closer to you, now looking down at you. “you always just pick—“ you paused looking up at his piercing blue eyes, his dick was right in front of your face, you’ve never looked at him like this before, fuck he looks so good.

“are you gonna finish the sentence?” he said, slowly getting closer to your face, the tension was so thick. full of hatred and anger, with a thick sexual tension as well. “you just always…” you said getting up getting in his face. now you’re looking up at him, your heart pounding, your pussy quickly getting wet.

“we shouldn’t do this mr. murphy.” you said yet you put your arms around his neck and he places his hands on your waist tugging and hugging it. “but i can’t stop thinking about you..” you admitted getting closer to his face, feeling his icy breath on your lips. your lips lightly touching each other. his hands travelling down your short skirt and sitting you on the desk. “you say the word baby i’ll do whatever you want me to do” he says kissing your neck, “we can’t tell anyone about this my boyfriend will kill me” you said looking into his beautiful eyes and down to his full lips. “and i’ll get fired but fuck you’re just so beautiful. i can’t stop thinking about you riding me. you’re all i think about. i’ll prove to you how little your lame boyfriend will mean to you after this.” he says rubbing his big hands on your thigh. you leaned in closing the gap between you guys immediately swapping saliva, he pulls you closer to his body and you feel how hard he is which turns you on a lot more.

“fuck me mr murphy”

that’s all you had to say. he ripped your black leggings for more access. aggressively kissing your lips and your neck, “we can’t be loud now. don’t fucking make a noise” he said lowly in your ear. let’s just say you guys had a really good time.

!a/n!

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