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cillianhead · 7 months

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Heeyy, love your work💜 aaand I was wondering could you write dad's Bestfriend! Cillian and how your dad keeps asking Cillian to go on a double date with him and his wife since he's been single for a while, but Cillian doesn't want to and (you're at your house) or then somehow you and him end up in the same place later and talk about it? one of you confesses they're glad he didn't go cos they had feelings for the other and then things get heated 😉😉

Sorry if it's all over the place, I have so many little ideas in my brain rn lol

Thank you☺️

Thank you so much for your request, I've literally been thinking sooooo much about the idea of Dad's BestFriend! Cillian and how I wanted to write about it, I hope this is what you were looking for!

Enjoy <3

Illicit Affairs || Dad's BestFriend! Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: SMUT, age gap (Cillian is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), taboo relationship, unprotected P in V, oral sex (f receiving), a bit angsty, having to hide their relationship, jealousy, some homophobic comments I guess?? (not from Cillian), general adult content!! (Cillian isn't an actor/famous in this also he moved to America... in this!) (Also this fic is quite long... so that's a warning!)

18+ Minors DNI

Cillian Murphy was that charming Irish man who lived just down your street. He had moved there around five or six years ago, you couldn't really remember, it was when you were just seventeen. He had moved here in the hopes of getting away from his ex-wife back in Ireland and starting over. Your dad was incredibly welcoming to him when he first moved in and they quickly became good buddies. Your dad was into sports and drinking beer, cooking out on the grill, and all that classic dad stuff. Cillian enjoyed that stuff too but he was much more into the arts than your dad ever could be. You two bonded over that. Cillian taught you how to play guitar, you'd write songs together, you'd go to concerts of bands you both liked.

Now you were twenty-four, in your last year of college and Cillian was still around, you still got together and went to concerts or played the guitar together every now and then, though you were more busy now and so was he. You'd had a crush on him ever since you had laid your eyes on him but you understood why it was wrong, understood why he was off limits. You couldn't help but grow jealous though when you'd see him bring home women every now and then and then see them leaving in the morning. It wasn't an occasion that happened often but it got on your nerves regardless, you knew you had no right to feel that way. But it still made you feel sick to your stomach.

Of course, you'd had a couple of boyfriends, none of them were all that serious. You hated yourself for comparing them to him, knowing no man could ever compare to the man that Cillian is. Your dad was oblivious to your (not-so) little crush. You had to keep it that way, not that anything was ever going to happen between you but you knew your dad would be uncomfortable with the idea of you having a crush on one of his best buddies.

"Cillian's comin' over tonight, Y/N." Your dad popped his head into your room, you just nodded and smiled before he left. You still lived at home since you studied not too far from home, your parents were more than happy to let you live there for as long as you needed but you had plans of moving out soon, as soon as you graduated.

"Thanks, Dad... I already know that." You chuckled. Your mom was downstairs cooking dinner and you had also received text messages from the man himself, earlier that day informing you he was coming over, so you were very much aware that he was coming over.

Cillian: Can't wait to see you. It's been a while, kid. xxx

You'd read the message over and over and over again. Your heart fluttered each time you did so. You hated how he called you 'kid', you were a grown woman, you weren't a kid anymore. You really hated it because you knew you didn't hate it. In fact, the nickname made you all shy and giggly, it made you like him even more.

It was around six when your mom called out for you that dinner was ready. You had tried your best to look nice, for whatever reason that may be. It wasn't anything too crazy or too dressy but it was definitely nicer than how you'd normally dress when you had guests over. A small black skirt that was a bit risky with how short it was but you could definitely get away with wearing it and a tight long-sleeved black shirt, tucked into it. You could hear chattering from the dining room, the sound of Cillian's chortling made you smile as you entered the room to find yourself meeting the back of the head of an unfamiliar blonde woman, sitting next to Cillian, and making him laugh. Your smile had dropped.

"Oh, sweetie!" Your mom waved you over to the table, the food had been served, both parents sitting on either end of the table while you had to sit and face Cillian and this strange blonde lady. Was this his girlfriend? You knew it had been around a month or so since you'd last seen him but surely he hadn't gotten a girlfriend in such a short amount of time. "This is Cassandra... we've been friends since college, I thought it would be nice to introduce her to Cillian... I've always said how I thought they'd get along."

You just nodded politely, looking Cillian in the eyes to see the discomfort staring back at you. Cassandra was beaming, as any woman should be if she sat beside Cillian, you just glared as you prepared your plate of food. You remained civil, of course, nodding along to things being said and laughing extra hard at jokes your dad tried to make. But you couldn't get rid of the big fat elephant in the room, Cassandra. She was pretty enough, with long blonde hair (obviously bleached, you thought), and makeup done elegantly but it was a bit much. Lip fillers to the max and smooth botox-filled skin. But the thing was... her perfume was obnoxiously loud for a smell. It filled the room like someone had bombed the place with perfume-scented grenades and it absolutely ruined the food. You don't know how Cillian could just sit there, breathing in her perfume without vomiting all over the place. You were sitting across the table and it was horrible, practically on the verge of a migraine, how bad must it be having to sit right next to her?

You scolded yourself silently for trying to put down this woman in your head. She hadn't done anything wrong except breathe near Cillian. It wasn't her fault you had some sort of weird jealousy issues when it came to him.

"...What... what do you do for work, Cassandra?" Cillian asked politely before taking a bite from his fork, looking at Cassandra with genuine interest. That made your gut churn.

"Oh... well I actually work for the Catholic church just around the corner," Cassandra smiled. "I actually go around... um... telling people about Catholicism and its benefits, trying to get them to join." You took a sip of your wine with a cheeky grin on your face as you saw Cillian's discomfort with her response. You knew fully well he had no issue with people practicing religion but you knew how he felt for people to go around and shove their beliefs down people's throats. With the slightest bit of alcohol running through your veins, you found some courage to feign interest in her line of 'work'.

"That's really interesting, Cassie," You hummed delightfully, your parents looked over at you cautiously. You knew you had crossed a line by calling her 'Cassie'. "What are your thoughts on gay people?" The room went silent. The drop of a pin could be heard.

Her face went beet red at this question. Your mom gave you a disappointed look before faking a smile. Cillian looked amused before turning to Cassandra, everyone waiting for her response.

"I... erm...." She was looking around the room. Now maybe you had guessed wrong, maybe she was totally fine with gay people but you had a feeling her answer was going to be the complete opposite of that. "I think... if someone wishes... to live that lifestyle... then they should... keep it to themselves..." You cringed at that response. "I think God... I think God would not approve of... that sort of lifestyle." Bazinga. Cillian was immediately put off.

"I didn't realize you spoke for God himself." Cillian chuckled as he looked down into his glass of wine with that mischievous smile that mirrored your own. The two of you giggled at each other, Cillian seemed sort of relieved in a way that he didn't have to deal with this bozo of a woman anymore and your jealousy had disappeared along with the food on your plate.

Eventually, Cassandra left hurriedly. Your mom scolded you for being rude but you just shrugged it off. Cillian stuck around to hang out with your dad as you and your mom cleaned the dishes, you could hear them chattering on the back porch, probably about the latest baseball game or your dad trying to convince Cillian to come over one day for a barbecue.

"Go bring these to your father and Cillian, sweetie." Your mom hands a pack of beer which you take carefully as you nod.

Walking out to the back veranda, Cillian sat with a cigarette in between his lips. How could someone be so pretty? You sat the beers down on the small coffee table before turning back around to keep helping your mom but were quickly stopped by Cillian's hands curling around your wrist. Electric jolts ran through you with his touch. "Why don't you join us, kid?" Cillian hummed.

"Alright." You politely sat down beside him, he sat in between you and your father. It was a lovely summer's night, the crickets chirped and the sun was only just setting at almost nine at night. It was quiet and peaceful and warm. Cillian's presence especially helped provide that atmosphere.

You tucked your legs up into your chest, you and Cillian occasionally sharing glances at each other while your dad and he continued to talk about subjects that didn't capture your interest. Every time he looked at you, you felt like you could explode, his eyes so captivating and simply electrifying. "Here, love." Cillian passed the cigarette over to you, and you took a small drag. Your dad gave you a disapproving look but shook it off as you passed it back, letting out the bellowing smoke from the chambers of your lungs and mouth.

"Weird seein' my little girl smoking a cigarette," Your father grumbled, cracking open a cold one and handing it over to Cillian. "S'not right, you've grown up too fast." While he opened himself a beer, Cillian laid his eyes on you, sucking in the thick smoke of his fag.

You just rolled your eyes at your father's comment. "If it makes you feel better... the only time I have ever smoked a cigarette is when I've been around Cillian." You giggled, looking over at Cillian to see him tilting his head at you, playfully nudging you.

"Hey," He whispered. "Don't dob me in, kid!" His voice was low and husky, you felt yourself squeeze a little at the tremor his tone caused.

Grasping your lip in between your bottom lip you just shook your head as you leaned your head against the wall of the house, staring out at the sunset. You sat out there for a little while, sharing puffs of the cigarette with Cillian until your dad got up, grumbling somethin' about how he was going to help your mother. Leaving you and Cillian alone together. Alone.

"Your parents are pretty eager to hook me up with someone," Cillian said, breaking the silence between you.

"Yeah?" You sucked in a breath.

"Yeah," He took a sip of his beer, setting it down on the table before stretching an arm back and laying it behind you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. You were flustered, being so close to him, in this sort of dim lighting. "Apparently, I'm goin' out this Saturday to go on a double date wit' your folks... and some woman named Naomi."

You bit back a scowl. "Oh... that's nice..." You lied through your teeth, Cillian just let out an amused huff. It gave off the impression he was irritated with something but you couldn't quite pick up on why he would be annoyed. He wanted you to stand up and tell him to stay, to tell him to be with you instead, he wanted you to be angry, he thought.

You knew who Naomi was. She worked with your dad, you had met her a few times. She was incredibly bright, charming, and nonetheless beautiful, ageing gracefully. Cillian and her were going to get along quite well, in fact, you felt yourself grow sad over the fact they would probably flourish as a couple. You and Cillian sat in silence for a little while longer, you didn't know what else to say. You felt ashamed that this wasn't just a crush you had, you harbored genuine and strong feelings for him that you knew he could never reciprocate. It was wrong. But how could you not want to be with him? He was the best man you'd ever met. Cillian was kind, he understood your silence, and he made you laugh until your ribs hurt. He comforted you like no other, without even trying and god... he was magnetic, the most handsome man you'd ever seen.

"She's not the woman I'm interested in though," Cillian groused, his fingers fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, his thumb occasionally brushing over the bare skin on your shoulder. You turned your head to look at him with a frown. His face perfectly aligned with yours, hot breath on your face, his pale blue eyes lit up by the rising moon. You could kiss him at that moment... but you wouldn't. You shouldn't. "Y/N..." He took in a deep breath, and your heart raced, it seemed like he was about to confess something. "I..."

"Come on! Let me walk ya home!" Your dad stepped out, and you immediately hopped up and out of the seat, not wanting your dad to see the close proximity you and Cillian were in, not that anything was happening between you two. Not that your dad would see anything you were feeling at that moment. "Sorry was I interrupting something?" Your dad murmured obliviously, disappointment painting both of your faces.

"No... no... I'd better be goin'," Cillian stood up, brushing himself off before pulling you into a tight hug. "See ya round, kid." He whispered into your hair before letting go of you, he gave you a longing stare before turning away.

"Bye, Cillian..."

Your heart sank as you watched him go. Curiosity that ate away at you bubbled in your stomach. What was he going to tell you? Surely... it's not what you were thinking? Sitting in your room that night, you struggled to think about anything else. You hated the idea of Cillian meeting this Naomi woman and falling in love with her. You hated that you felt like you had some sort of possession over him, he wasn't yours and he never would be.

Stormy Saturday rolled around and you had no plans, you just watched your parents get ready for this double date of theirs as you wallowed in self-pity and the sky opened up, just as moody as you were. They pestered you on why you were so grumpy, you just shrugged them off, blaming it on hormones. With every step they took towards the door, your heart broke more and more. You wished them goodbye before sitting on the couch with a tub of ice cream to soothe away the pain. An hour went by and you figured the date had started by now, Naomi and Cillian were probably planning their marriage straight away and you would have to watch him give himself away, you would have to sit in the church pews and resist from standing up and screaming when the minister asks if anyone has any objections. You imagined yourself watching their first dance, watching Cillian stand up and tell the world how she's the most amazing woman he's ever known and that he loves her. You imagined having to congratulate him, you imagined growing old and alone, still just as in love with him as you are now. You groaned at your silly thoughts.

"Get over yourself." You said through gritted teeth, talking to yourself as you bit back tears.

You had some stupid rom-com on, only further reminding you of how painfully alone you were and how desperately you wished to be the one Cillian wanted. You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts by your phone buzzing beside you, quickly picked it up when you saw it was your dad calling.

"Hey dad, how's it going?" You asked with a casual hum, plopping another bit of the vanilla ice cream into your mouth.

"Have you seen Cillian? He's yet to arrive." Your dad sounded worried, he was never a worrier. "He said he was going to show up earlier but we haven't heard from him since... have you heard from him?"

"No, I haven't, is he okay... do you think?" You sat up fully now, setting the ice cream aside. It wasn't like Cillian to not respond at all for so long. If he wasn't going to show up, he'd at least let the people know. You hear a loud strike of lightning outside, shaking the room.

"I don't know, I don't know, Y/N, it's been an hour and a half, he should be here..." Your dad grumbles. You can hear the sound of your mom apologizing to someone else, no doubt Naomi was the person she was apologizing to. Sorry, your future husband hasn't arrived, you imagined her saying. "Alright, I'm gonna go, we're gonna stick around here for a little longer... call me if you hear from him."

The call ends and you're left with an uneasy feeling in your chest. What if Cillian was hurt? You tried to brush away that feeling, getting up and putting the ice cream back in the freezer and the spoon in the sink. A knock at your front door, as loud as the thunder outside made you jump about halfway across the kitchen. Who would be knocking at this time? Especially during this weather?

You rush to the door, the rain pouring out, the trees just about to be ripped out of the ground with how harsh the wind was and you open the door, scowling at the wind.

"Y/N." Cillian gasped out, he looked straight out of a movie scene. Soaking wet. He took a step in, dripping all over the place. His eyebrows furrowed together as he approached you.

"Cillian, what? What are you doing here?!" You exclaimed, shutting the door. "My parents are worried sick about you!"

"I...."

"Why aren't you at your date?" You interrupted, scolding him like a naughty child. He was shivering as he took off his sopping coat, leaving him in a white button-up shirt that was equally soaked. It didn't leave much to the imagination, with the already somewhat translucent material and the water leaking through. It stuck to every inch of his skin like cellophane, his nipples peeked through, his chest and stomach on full display. You stopped yourself from checking him out any further, growing flustered as you felt him corner you in the living room. He had a wild look in his eyes.

"Cillian?" You ask again, concerned. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his eyes locked on you. He didn't seem to really care that he was as wet as a dog.

"Y/N..."

"Cillian..." You repeated.

His eyes said everything he was thinking. Hunger, love, and deep untamed desperation. You winced a bit at the feeling of hand cupping your face. "I love you." He whispered and you gasped.

"Cillian..." You whispered back, hesitant to respond to what he just said. "Have you... have you had something to drink tonight?"

"I'm completely sober, kid," He grunted as he leaned in to kiss you, hot breath on your neck as you quickly turned your cheek to him. You pushed him away, you knew this was wrong. You took a step away from him, and Cillian gave you a look of hurt. "Y/N, baby, I need to tell you this. I have to know you feel the same way." His voice was shaking. The room shook with him, you sat down on your sofa and curled your body up into a tiny ball. "Look at me, kid, look at me." "Don't call me kid!" You yelled with tears in your eyes, finally looking him in the eyes. Cillian jumped a bit at the sudden outburst, it wasn't like you to yell.

"Y/N..." Cillian whispered, a look of hurt.

"We... we can't... I don't know... what's going on right now... but this isn't right... you're my dad's best friend..."

"And you're my best friend's daughter," He sat beside you, placing his hand on your thigh and the other on your chin, making you look at him. "But it doesn't.... it doesn't change these feelings... I have for you."

"Why?" You shook your head away, trying to hide the hot tears that slipped down your face. "Why would you have feelings for me? You could have anyone... and you decide me." "I didn't decide this," Cillian sighed, he leaned in and pressed his face into your warm shoulder. His cold wet hair tickles along your jawline. "But I want you... it doesn't matter... any woman could beg to have me... I'd still want you, Y/N. No one else matters... I need you." Your heart ached. It felt like Cillian had wrapped his warm hand around your poor heart and squeezed it until warm raspberry jam spilled out of his fist. You felt torn.

"Don't cry, baby..." His voice was low and every bit of you wanted to fling yourself at him, to confess your undying love, to run away to Paris with him and never come back. The way he called you baby was delectable. But you couldn't stop thinking about your parents, about the look on their faces if they saw this. "Y/N... baby..." "Stop calling me baby..." You cried, turning your face full of anguish towards him. Cillian's lip quivered, thumb swiping away your tears. "I don't... I don't get it. I just don't get it, Cillian... why... you? Why... me?"

"You are the most extraordinary person I have ever met, kid..." Cillian's petal-like lips whispered to you oh-so-gently. Your eyes locked on the way his mouth moved as he spoke. "I... I know it's wrong, I know I'm a fuckin' creep... for feeling this way for you... I'm old enough to be your goddamn father... I've known you since you were... just seventeen-"

"How long... have you... you known...?"

"Since you came home from your trip to California last year..." He replied all too quickly. "I saw you with that stupid boy... Kyle or whatever the fuck his bloody name was and all I saw was red... I didn't... I couldn't handle seeing you with him." You bit back a smile. "You're too good... for any of those college boys..." He grumbled. "A lady like you... she needs to be treated right."

You can treat me right Cillian, you thought. "I've never wanted them... the way I've wanted you..." "Fuck..." He let out quietly, biting his own lip in response. "You can't say things like that." His blue eyes were just a sliver of what they once were, pupils were blown wide as if he were high from just staring at you. "Most brilliant girl... fuck... that last gig we went to... I wanted to wrap me arm around you and kiss you silly... claim you as mine... but... I was too afraid."

"What gave you the courage?"

"I've just had enough," Cillian swiped another tear off your cheek. "Had enough of waiting... I can't wait any longer..."

"I can't wait any longer either... it's been eating away at me, the idea of you with anyone else. I just... I can't picture you with anyone else."

Cillian grinned at you, still shivering from his wet clothes. You put him out of his misery, connecting your lips. After all this time, what felt like an eternity, you kissed. The oxygen around you no longer mattered, you had each other to breathe in now. This kiss was not slow and romantic, it was violent like you were trying to consume each other, trying to see who could win in this cannibalistic fight. His hands grasped at your waist, pulling you onto his lap and wetting your clothes with his soggy ones.

"Take my shirt off..." He whispered, he didn't have to ask you twice.

You unbuttoned his shirt as best you could while it was wet before ripping it open and revealing his delicious skin. "You're so pretty, Cillian..." This moment was surreal. The man of your dreams, twenty years older than you, with crow's feet and grey hairs, and the most beautiful soul you had ever found, sitting in front of you with his body on display for you. Your soulmate. You both had known it for a long time now. Making out on your couch was unacceptable to Cillian so he picked you up and carried you upstairs with your legs wrapped around his slim waist.

He had been in your room plenty of times before but never for reasons like this. Never with the desire to rip all your clothes off and crawl inside you. Cillian closed and locked the door behind you before throwing you down onto your well-cushioned bed. You watched him slide out of his shoes and pull off the sticky shirt that draped off his shoulders. Now he was completely shirtless and was prowling towards you like a tiger to its prey. "Gonna take your clothes off of now, love, is that alright?" He asked quickly, fingers slipping underneath the waistband of your shorts. You nodded desperately, your brain lost in some sort of fog of disbelief and horniness.

"God..." You whispered as you helped him shimmy off your shorts and you pulled your shirt quickly over your head. Leaving you in nothing but some small boxer shorts. He grinned madly.

"S'pretty..." His hands slid up your waist until both hands cupped each of your tits in his hands. "Fucking hell, kid." You rolled your head back at him calling you that, groaning at how it turned you on and gasping as you felt his hot mouth latch itself onto your hard nipple.

"Cillian... oh my god!" Your fingers tugged on his hair before he pulled off of you with a pop.

His lips were quickly back on yours as he pulled down your shorts, now you were completely naked and he knelt down on his knees so his face was perfectly aligned with what was between your legs. Your pussy was already soaking wet for him, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. "You are the most beautiful thing..." He whispered, staring directly at your throbbing cunt. "And the sweetest." His mouth worked deliciously on you and as if his tongue wasn't already enough, he slipped a finger into you, fingering at your g-spot.

"Oh!" You writhed around on the sheets, thighs tightly locked around his head, wet hair sticking to your soft skin. He was truly devouring you, like a man who had been malnourished for years, he feasted on you as if you were his last meal. And when you came on his face, he moaned loudly. The orgasm crept on you and hit you out of nowhere, you couldn't hold in the noises that came out of your throat.

You were delirious as you lay there, whining as he continued to finger you. "Fuck... I could eat your pussy all night long, baby," Cillian panted, chin dripping in your juices. "But I've gotta be inside ya."

"I'm... on the pill..." You murmured out, he pulled his finger out of you, sucking it clean as he undid his slacks. He moaned lowly at your words, letting his pants and underwear fall to his ankles. Cillian carried you up until your head rested on the pillows now. It was romantic the way he was handling you, the moment was so intimate as he stroked his cock, lining it up with your wanting hole. "I've thought about this... for so long..." "Me too, baby." Cillian huffed, rolling his eyes back into his skull as he fit the head of his cock into your pussy, pushing the rest in there slowly but surely. You arched your back against him, whimpering as he pressed fully into you. "So good." Cillian groaned as he leaned down and bit down on your lip, pulling it away and watching it pop back into place before properly kissing you. You made out while he remained still inside of you, his hands on either side of your head as your tongues twisted together. The first thrust sent your body into a state of euphoria as he began picking up the pace, rocking his hips in and out of you. Your fingers ran scratches up and down his back. Your bed old and creaky, slamming against the wall as soon as he fucked you hard and fast while remaining still so painfully romantic.

"I love you," You gasped out. "I love you... Cillian!"

"I fuckin' love you so much," His head hung low, and you got the perfect view of him above you. His face flushed and his eyes fixed on your own face full of pleasure. "You're mine, all mine... and I'm yours."

"All mine..." You repeated with a moan, clenching around him, feeling your own high slowly begin to grow.

"You're takin' me so good," Cillian's praise made you throb, his grunting making you gush around him. "My good girl, my best girl."

The look of love in his eyes and in your own could be seen a thousand miles away. Your souls' grand reunion, your bodies becoming one, and your love finally coming out into the open, like a beautiful fruitful spring after a long and dark winter. "I'm close, Cillian."

"Cum around me, love, I wanna feel you come undone." "I want you to cum inside me..." "Fuck," He groaned, hips stuttering into you. "I'll give ya what you want since you asked so nicely." Your vision went white, ears ringing as your hot sweaty bodies pressed together, fitting so perfectly together. Never had anyone made you cum like this before. Your orgasm washes over you in foamy waves, like a stormy ocean hitting the shore over and over and over again. Cillian's rhythm slowed down as he rutted into you, warm cum filling you, and you felt so relieved, this was how it was always meant to be. His lips pressed sloppy kisses to your neck, moaning directly into your ear, both of you riding out your intense highs.

He stilled, letting a bit more of his seed spill into you before he hissed as he pulled out. Cillian lay beside you, wrapping an arm around you as shook softly, still feeling the effects of your own orgasm hitting you. His eyes examined you so gently, a dopey smile on his fairy-like face and his hair beginning to grow curly from how wet it was.

"Cillian..." You whispered, rolling over onto your side to look at him. "I love you." "I love you, kid." He whispered back, holding you like he had the world in his arms. To him, you were his world.

"We'll be okay, right?" "We just... have to keep this a secret... from your parents..." Cillian said, disappointment evident in his voice.

"Yeah... I know..." You pressed your face into his bare chest, loving the warmth. "Cillian... I wish you knew how strongly I felt about you."

"I feel the same way."

You shared sweet nothings with each other. Still, in disbelief, this was actually happening as you fell asleep with smiles on your faces, in each other's arms. Unfortunately in the morning, you'd have to suffer the consequences of your dad walking in on you and Cillian resting peacefully in your bed.

hi! sorry this was so long but i hope you enjoyed <3

also sorry if there are any major mistakes!

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queenshelby · 3 months

Text

The Basement (Part One)

Pairing: Dark Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Dub-Con, CNC, Smut

It was a Thursday evening when you found yourself standing amidst the artfully crafted chaos of your new exhibition opening in Dublin. The scent of expensive cologne and the hum of excited chatter filled the air, accompanied by the occasional clink of glasses raised in celebration.

You had been working there for a year now and your heart raced, palpitating with the anticipation of meeting your favorite actor tonight who was said to appear at the event according to one of your acquaintances and fellow artists.

As you surveyed the crowd, you couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought of finally meeting him. It was a dream come true and you wanted to shake his hand, look into those icy blue eyes, and express how much his work meant to you ever since you began watching him in Peaky Blinders.

But the crowd seemed to grow thicker, and you began to lose hope of getting close enough for a proper introduction.

That's when you saw him standing across the room, wearing a black suit. His slightly greying hair framed his face like a soft halo and those striking eyes were unmistakable, even from meters away. And then there was his smile, slightly crooked, as if to suggest a naughty secret just waiting to be told.

The moment your eyes met, he locked onto you, his gaze penetrating straight through to your soul.

He had obviously noticed you starring at him like some obsessive little girl, unable to take your eyes off his enticing form.

It was a strange feeling, being seen by him like that; it felt like he could see right through you, past every layer of facade you hid behind.

Taking up the courage to introduce yourself to him, you carefully made your way over to where he stood.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," you offered hesitantly, holding out your hand in greeting. "I work here and I am a huge fan of your work," you quickly added, hoping to sound professional enough for the occasion but failing miserably in doing so.

Cillian took your hand gently, his touch sending goosebumps racing up your arm. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N," he said warmly, his voice deep and soothing. "I've heard great things about this place. It's truly inspiring work," he complimented, gesturing towards the stunning art pieces surrounding you both.

You blushed at the praise, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"Are you one of the collaborators?" he then asked and you nodded awkwardly. "Yes, I do the photography," you answered shyly, pointing to a series of surreal landscapes adorning the walls nearby. Cillian's eyes widened with genuine interest upon seeing your work hung proudly beside the paintings of renowned artists.

A gentle smile crept across his lips as he studied each image intently before offering a genuine compliment. "Beautiful," he murmured softly, looking up at you with admiration in his eyes. "I can only imagine what inspired you to create such ethereal visuals."

Your cheeks turned a rosy pink, your nervousness intensifying under his praise. "Thank you," you stammered, struggling to muster the confidence to continue speaking so you took a big sip of your wine instead.

Cillian smiled down at you encouragingly, watching you as you nervously toyed with the hem of your dress. "How long have you been working here?" he asked conversationally, moving closer to you.

"About a year now," you replied, taking another swig of your drink. The alcohol gave you a bit more courage to speak freely while he reached for another glass of wine from the waiter walking by and handing it to you.

"And do you enjoy it?" he then questioned, turning back to you with curious gleam in his eye.

"Working here? Well, sometimes it feels a bit overwhelming, but yes, I do," you admitted truthfully, shrugging sheepishly.

"It looks like a lot of hard work goes into it," he acknowledged, nodding appreciatively.

"It does but it is fun too. I get to meet a lot of interesting people, like you," you responded, smiling nervously.

Cillian chuckled quietly, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Well, I don't think I am that interesting, but thank you," he said as he leaned in closer, his hushed voice.

"Well, I think you are and you are, uhm... well I really liked you in Peaky Blinders," you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Tommy has this kind of darkness about him and it is very attractive I think," you laughed self-consciously, suddenly realizing how much you had to drink.

Cillian's eyes sparkled with mischief as he grinned knowingly. "Oh, so Thomas Shelby is attractive to you, huh?" he teased, his voice dropping low and seductive. "Well, I guess I should be flattered then, shouldn't I?"

"I didn't mean it that way!" you gasped, shaking your head suddenly.

"No?" he drawled, his tone dripping with teasing malice. "What exactly did you mean, then?" Cillian wanted to know.

Your cheeks reddened further as you glanced around, trying to hide your mortification. "I just meant that you portray Tommy so well that I find myself drawn to him," you muttered under your breath.

"Interesting," Cillian mused, studying you carefully. "So, does that mean that you feel drawn to me too?" Cillian teased playfully, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no, not at all!" you sputtered, laughing nervously.

"No?" he asked mischievously. "That's a shame," he teased, winking slyly. "Because I wouldn't have minded having someone like join me at my hotel room later tonight," he suggested nonchalantly, leaning in closer until his lips brushed against your ear.

You gasped, stunned by his bold proposition. "What?" you spluttered, jerking back from him in shock. "Are you serious?"

Cillian smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Yes, although you would have to agree to sign an NDA before I take you there," he added, winking slyly.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, processing his offer. It was like a dream come true and even though you had never slept with anyone before, you agreed to his proposal.

The idea of spending the night with Cillian Murphy was irresistible, intoxicating even. You knew the risks involved, but at that moment, nothing mattered more than fulfilling the fantasy you had nurtured inside you all these years.

"Alright," you managed to whisper, swallowing hard as you watched Cillian finish up his drink.

"Good then lets get out of here," he whispered back, flashing you a wicked grin and, soon after that, you stepped outside, the cold night air hit you, instantly sobering you up. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were going to a hotel room with Cillian Murphy. But as the reality sunk in, you started to feel anxious about losing your virginity to someone you didn't even know.

When you arrived at the hotel room half an hour later, Cillian made you sign the NDA and, soon after you did, you found yourself pressed against the door, his hot breath fanning your neck and his hands already starting to explore your body.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," he murmured reassuringly, kissing your neck tenderly as he sensed your nervousness.

"You want this, don't you?" he whispered, sliding his hands beneath your shirt, caressing your skin. "Just say the word, and we can stop," he reassured you but you simply moaned softly, arching your back as his fingers touched the sensitive spot between your shoulder blades.

Despite the lingering doubts in your mind, you couldn't deny the intense desire coursing through your veins. You wanted him, needed him.

"I don't want to stop," you whimpered, clutching at the fabric covering his chest.

Cillian smirked down at you, his eyes dark and glittering with lust.

"Good girl," he cooed, running his thumb along your jawline. "Now, tell me Y/N, will you let me do whatever I want with you tonight?"

You swallowed thickly, your pulse thrumming wildly in your throat. "Whatever you want, Cillian," you breathed, clinging tighter to his shoulders.

"Really?" he murmured, trailing kisses along your jawline.

You shivered, feeling a thrill of excitement course through you. "Yeah, whatever you want," you assured him, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his soft hair.

"Good," Cillian groaned as, with a devious grin, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and hungry for more.

"Now I want you to undress for me," he commanded, his voice soft yet commanding. His eyes held a playful glint that belied the power they exuded.

Slowly, you slipped off your heels first, letting them fall silently to the floor. With every step you took back, you became spellbound by his gaze, entranced by the magnetism oozing from his presence.

Your heart pounded in your chest, as you untied the knot holding your dress together, allowing it to slip gracefully from your shoulders.

The thin fabric pooled around your feet, leaving you standing naked before Cillian. Your bare skin prickled with anticipation, knowing that he had complete control over you.

"Your panties too," Cillian purred, the edge of his mouth curling into a devilish smirk.

Eyes fixed on his mesmerizing gaze, you hesitated for a brief second before pulling away your panties. The feeling of utter vulnerability washed over you like a tidal wave, yet something within you embraced the sensation.

"Perfect," Cillian murmured approvingly, his eyes raking over your nude form hungrily. "Now, stand still for me."

You obeyed, standing stiffly as he circled around you like a predator assessing its prey.

Cillian traced his index finger along your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth.

"You're beautiful, Y/N," he murmured, his eyes traveling downwards to admire your curvy hips tapering into your waist. "So fucking gorgeous."

His words ignited a fire within you, and with each passing second, your nerves began to calm down. This was it. The culmination of everything you ever fantasized about.

Cillian stepped back to take off his shirt, revealing a lean torso.

The sight made your mouth go dry, and you almost forgot to breathe.

He moved closer, running his hand up along your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine.

"Drop to your knees Y/N," he ordered, his voice low and gravelly. You hesitated for a moment, but his insistent gaze compelled you to follow his command.

Once on your knees, you looked up at him, his eyes burning with desire, his erection straining against his pants. You reached out, unbuttoning his jeans.

He groaned softly as you slipped the zipper down, freeing his cock from its confines. You gasped at the sight before you - thick, veiny, and throbbing with need.

"Look at me," Cillian demanded, placing his hands on your shoulders roughly. Your eyes lifted towards him, meeting his fiery gaze. "Tell me how much you want this."

"I want this. I want this a lot," you managed to utter, biting your lip nervously.

"Good girl," Cillian praised, his grip tightening on your shoulders. "Now, show me. Take my cock in to your mouth," he demanded and you hesitated for a moment, staring at the swollen tip of his cock. The urge to wrap your lips around it was overwhelming, but you also felt uneasy about the unknown territory you were treading.

Still, the prospect of pleasing Cillian thrilled you, and you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock.

Cillian groaned loudly, his grip tightening on your shoulders. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice hoarse with raw lust. "Take your time, taste me."

His request spurred you on, and you opened your mouth wider, taking the head of his cock between your lips.

You sucked lightly, savoring the taste of him, your heart pounding in rhythm with the intensity of the moment.

"Suck me harder," Cillian growled, his hands grasping your hair tightly as he thrust deeper into your mouth.

You complied, applying more force, reveling in the sensation of his cock pulsing against your tongue. You felt empowered, desired, and utterly submissive. The combination was intoxicating.

Cillian continued to guide you, coaching you through every stroke, praising your efforts with guttural moans and sighs of pleasure.

"That's it, Y/N," he coaxed, threading his fingers through your hair. "Fuck, you're good with your mouth."

You struggled to catch your breath, your lungs heaving in the silence of the dimly lit room. Each word, each gesture, served to fuel the growing tension between you two.

You tasted Cillian's precum, tangy and salty, arousing you further.

Your inhibitions vanished, replaced by a raw hunger for his approval.

"You're doing great," Cillian murmured, his grip tightening on your hair. "I want you to take me deeper, okay?"

You eagerly bobbed your head, engulfing his length greedily. The heat building between you threatened to combust.

"God, you're amazing," Cillian groaned, bucking his hips.

"Open wide for me now, sweetheart," he instructed, gripping your hair tightly in his fist.

You followed his order, parting your lips and sucking harder.

As you deepthroated him, Cillian's hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against your lips.

The smell of sweat combined with the faint smell of alcohol, created a unique scent that aroused you further.

"Ah, fuck," Cillian cried out, his hand tightening on your scalp.

"Keep going," he encouraged, his voice strained with effort.

You obliged, loving the taste of him.

Cillian's cock grew thicker in your mouth, his hardness becoming even more pronounced. You could sense his pleasure and it drove you wild.

"I will cum down your throat now and I want you to be a good girl and swallow it all," Cillian declared.

His voice had a stern authority that sent shivers down your spine.

Nervous excitement surged through you as you prepared for the inevitable.

"Okay," you managed to whisper, your heart drumming in your chest.

Cillian placed his hands on your cheekbones, his thumbs stroking your temples soothingly.

"Relax," he urged, his voice softer now. "Let it happen."

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists tight, readying yourself for the sensation.

Cillian's breathing became labored, and you could tell he was on the brink of release.

"Here it comes," he warned, his voice strained. "Swallow every drop baby."

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest.

With a final warning glance, Cillian exploded, filling your mouth with his seed. You gagged reflexively, but you remembered his warning. Swallowing hard, you forced the semen down your throat, tasting the bitterness of his essence.

Cillian sighed heavily, releasing your hair and caressing your head tenderly.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. "You handled that beautifully."

You sat back on your heels, panting heavily, your senses reeling from the intense encounter. "Thanks," you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "I tried my best."

Cillian smiled down at you, his eyes sparkling with pride. "You exceeded my expectations," he praised, cupping your chin before pulling you up to stand on your feet again. "Now it is time to see how tight you are," he announced, his voice husky with anticipation. "So why don't you climb on to the bed for me. I want to fuck you from behind so that I can watch my cock slide in and out of your pussy," Cillian murmured huskily, his gaze burning with lust.

You hesitated briefly, unsure of what to do. You'd never done anything like this before and the fear of not being able to match Cillian's expectations loomed large. However, the thought of experiencing something you'd only dreamed about pushed you forward.

"Okay," you responded, climbing onto the king-sized bed. The mattress sank beneath your weight, enveloping you in a cloud of softness.

You turned around, facing the mirrored wall opposite the bed, watching yourself in the reflection. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow on your skin, illuminating the flush of arousal creeping up your cheeks.

Cillian climbed onto the bed behind you, his movements confident and assertive. You watched him pull a condom from the bedside table drawer, expertly rolling it onto his erect cock before discarding the wrapper on the floor.

He then reached forward, assessing your wetness with a fingertip. You arched your back in response while Cillian gripped your hips firmly.

"I want you to stay like this," he instructed, positioning your legs apart. "Ready for me?" he asked as the anticipation built within you, your heart pounding with trepidation and excitement.

"Yes," you managed to squeak, biting your lip as you waited for him to enter you.

You could feel his heated breath on your neck, and the anticipation of his entry filled you with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Cillian positioned himself behind you, aligning his cock with your entrance. You braced yourself, anticipating the invasion of his massive member.

"I am going to stretch you open now, Y/N," Cillian murmured in your ear, his words vibrating against your skin as you felt his hands grip your hips firmly, anchoring you in place.

Then, with a single swift motion, he thrust deeply into you, stretching you open, causing tears to spring to your eyes from the sudden intrusion. You suppressed a scream while pushing your face against the pillow while Cillian pumped into you.

"You're so tight," he groaned, thrusting faster, deeper, relentlessly driving into you, his cock burrowing into your core, filling you completely.

It was painful but knowing who he was and that you were pleasing him somehow numbed the discomfort.

"Does it hurt?" he murmured, sounding genuinely concerned, his voice cracking slightly.

"No," you lied unconvincingly, your voice quivering. "Not really."

"Good," he grunted, continuing his relentless assault on your body. "Because I'm enjoying this and I am going to make you mine," he declared, grabbing your hips more tightly, guiding your movement with his firm hands. You gasped as he slammed into you, his cock hitting the deepest parts of you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You fought the urge to cry out as he mercilessly fucked you, his thrusts deep and unrelenting.

"Good girl. Keep taking my cock," Cillian groaned, his voice muffled.

He grabbed your hips roughly, forcing you to arch back against him, and you moaned softly, unable to resist the pleasure he offered.

"So tight," he murmured, pumping into you harder.

"Can you feel my cock stretching you open?" Cillian murmured, his voice heavy with lust.

You winced, your muscles tensing, but nodded weakly, unwilling to break the spell that Cillian had woven around you.

"Good," he groaned, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back into you with renewed vigor. "I want you to cum for me, Y/N."

His words jolted you, stirring a strange sensation within you. You'd never experienced anything quite like this before, overwhelmed by the mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through your body.

The fear of disappointing Cillian fueled your determination to satisfy him, despite the discomfort.

"Do you like that?" Cillian murmured, his voice deepening as he buried his cock inside you multiple times. "Feel my cock stretching you open."

Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage like a frenzied beast. You moaned softly, struggling to contain the mounting desire raging within you.

"Yeah, that's right," Cillian growled, punctuating each thrust with a sharp yank of your hair.

"Scream for me, baby."

You whimpered, your cries echoing in the silent room. Every brutal thrust of his cock stretched you open, driving you toward the precipice of orgasm until, finally, you could not take anymore.

You screamed, your voice reverberating through the room as your orgasm washed over you, consuming you whole.

"Yes, that's it," Cillian murmured, his voice strained and desperate. "Come for me, Y/N."

You thrashed beneath him, writhing uncontrollably as he pummeled your depths, milking your release. Your screams echoed in the silence, as the sheer force of your orgasm shook you. You cried out, your voice raw and hoarse.

The pleasure consumed you, obliterating any lingering fears or doubts.

Cillian continued to pump into you, his cock relentless as it plundered your depths. You clawed at the sheets, your nails digging into the fabric as you surrendered to the exquisite torment until, suddenly, he withdrew and quickly removed the condom.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice strained yet commanding as he pumped his cock with his hand.

You complied, turning to face him, your chest heaving with exertion.

"Open your mouth," Cillian said, his voice low and gruff. You parted your lips obediently, exposing your moistened flesh beneath his scrutiny.

"I will cum inside your mouth again, so open wide," Cillian murmured, his words laden with intent.

With a practiced twist of his wrist, he aimed his pulsating shaft directly at your waiting mouth. The head of his cock swelled, eager to be welcomed inside.

"Good girl," he groaned. "Here it comes," Cillian jerked his hand, unleashing a stream of cum straight into your mouth. You gagged, choking on the warm liquid as it filled your mouth.

"Swallow it," he barked, his voice strained with lust. "Every last drop."

You coughed as the thick substance filled your mouth, and you wondered if you'd ever forget the flavor of Cillian's essence as you gulped it down.

Your heart thumped erratically in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins like a drug. As you lay on the rumpled sheets, the remnants of ecstasy and exhaustion pulsed through every fiber of your being.

"That was quite something," Cillian murmured, tracing light patterns on your arm with his fingertips. "But I must admit, I'm surprised by your eagerness to please me. I did not expect such obedience from anyone really."

You shrugged uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. "Well, I must admit, I had my fair share of wet dreams about you so I really wanted to please you," you replied, hoping your answer sounded casual enough. "And it's not everyday you get to sleep with a famous actor."

Cillian chuckled softly, leaning in close to kiss your cheek.

"Hmm, you know what I have been fantasizing about?" Cillian mused, brushing some hair away from your face and kissing your forehead lightly. "I've been fantasizing about keeping someone like you at my house for a few weeks. Someone who agrees to let me do whatever I want to her. Someone I can use every day for my pleasure," Cillian explained as he traced a gentle pattern on your arm with his fingertips, his eyes locked on yours. "Would that interest you?"

You hesitated, your heart fluttering at the idea. "Well, I don't know..." you trailed off, trying to sound nonchalant. "I mean, I guess I'd consider it."

Cillian smiled mysteriously, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous sparkle. "Good," he said, his voice dropping low and seductive. "I get my assistant to send you a contract then. You can read it, see if you are okay with thee terms and then we can make arrangements," Cillian suggested, his tone hinting at an excited undercurrent.

You blinked, your mind racing with possibilities. The idea of spending a few weeks with Cillian, submitting to his desires, seemed both terrifying and thrilling. "Sure, I'd love to see the contract," you agreed meekly, secretly yearning for the opportunity to spend more time with him.

"Good," Cillian grinned, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Although, you better think it though thoroughly, Y/N. It involves me doing things to you which you may not necessarily enjoy," Cillian said, his voice deep and resonant. "I won't ask for your consent or permission during every encounter. You will be in some pain and you will most defiantly be sore. And most importantly, you'll be in my house, with no contact with the outside world whatsoever during our arrangement," Cillian told you matter-of-factly, as he ran his fingers gently down your arm.

Tags: @ietss @thorins-queen-of-erebor @cilliansbabe @calmingmelody96 @lavender-haze-01 @febris-amatoria @cursedalchemist

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

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soleilceirinen · 6 months

Text

Little Girl Blue (Arthur Shelby x barmaid!reader).

Summary: you work as a barmaid at the Garrison. One day you find Arthur drawing something and get curious.

Warning: none.

A/N: English is not my first language, sorry if there are mistakes.

MASTERLIST (Cillian Murphy) - PEAKY BLINDERS MASTERLIST

You had started working as a barmaid at the Garrison a few months before the Shelby brothers returned from France.

At first, the idea of quitting crossed your mind but you had no other option and needed the job. You had to take care of your little brother, it was just you and him. You had practically raised him since your mother passed away in childbirth and after your father went to France at the beginning of the war to never come back. The boy was all you had left.

Once the Shelby brothers returned, your situation changed. You stopped having problems with some clients, mostly drunk men, just because you were a young woman. Deep down, you had the suspicion that the Peaky Blinders had something to do with the whole situation. Not that it bothered you, now you could walk alone at night and no one would dare look in your direction in the wrong way if they wanted to keep their eyes.

Out of the three of them, Arthur was your favourite. Sometimes you wanted to hold him in your arms like a child and whisper to him that everything was alright. Others, when he was high or drunk, or who knows, you avoided him as much as possible. But he always treated you well, and more than once you had caught him gawking at you from across the pub.

Your next favourite was John, who always flirted with you. You weren’t sure if he was serious or if he flirted with everyone but you were sure of one thing, you didn’t want to become the mother of all his children. And then there was Tommy. He was quite scary, every time he directed his cold blue eyes at you, it made you want to run away and hide. Something about him screamed stay away. He usually ignored you and only spoke to you to order another bottle of whiskey or rum.

That afternoon the pub was quiet. You looked up when the door opened, to see Arthur. He smiled at you like he always did, running a hand through his hair as he headed to the small reserved room he always occupied with his brothers. After drying some glasses, you walked towards the room while drying your hands on your apron.

Arthur didn’t notice your presence, he was focused on what seemed to be drawing something on a piece of paper. From your position you couldn’t see what it was. You knocked on the door frame a couple of times, making the man look up. A look of panic crossed his face but it lasted a few seconds, as long as he folded the paper and put it in his jacket pocket.

"Excuse me Mr. Shelby, I didn't mean to bother you. Would you like me to get you something to drink?" You asked quietly, surprised by his reaction.

“Just call me Arthur, love. How many times have I told you?”

“Many times,” you whispered and smiled. He nodded and looked at his watch, frowning slightly.

“It won't be long until they arrive, I think I'll wait for them.” You were about to leave to go back behind the bar when his voice made you turn around. “How is you brother?”

You paused for a second, considering your answer. “Sammy is fine, a few scratches.” Your brother and Finn were friends and they liked to get into trouble together. A couple of days ago they had returned home covered in mud and blood. Neither of them wanted to confess what they had been doing to end up in that state. “If they are such trouble makers now I don’t want to think how they are going to be in a few years.”

Arthur laughed and lit a cigarette. He agreed with you.

From behind the bar you could observe Arthur through the window that overlooked the small room. You approached slowly, without attracting attention. Once again, he was focused on drawing something, but what could he be drawing? He didn’t seem like that kind of person, as far as you knew, he was interested in boxing not art.

“I didn’t know that you liked drawing, Arthur.” You commented, causing him to fold the paper again and hide it from your view.

“I don’t. As a kid I liked it, but I’m not really good at it now.” He excused himself. His cheeks were starting to turn pink.

You leaned over the window and stretched an arm towards him, wiggling your fingers. “Can I see it?”

Arthur shook his head, a few strands of hair fell over his temples. You felt the impulse to reach and put it back in place with your hand, but didn’t.

“It’s not great…”, he muttered sheepishly.

You sighed. He reminded you of a little child. “Fine, you don’t have to show me. But even if it’s not great, if it makes you happy and you enjoy it, it is worth it.”

Arthur nodded and opened his mouth to talk when a familiar face appeared in the room and sat next to him. “What are you talking about with Y/N?”

“That’s not your business, John!” said Arthur, pushing his brother in the shoulder. They were playing, you thought.

Someone clearing his throat brought you back to reality. On the other side of the bar was Thomas, staring at you with his usual icy eyes.

“Sorry, Mr. Shelby. What can I do for you?”

He pointed to the bottles behind you and turned around to join his brothers. You quickly grabbed three glasses and one whiskey bottle and followed him. While you poured them the liquid you could feel John’s eyes roaming over your body and the familiar smell of their cigarettes.

You left them alone to discuss whatever they had to do. It was almost time to close when they came out, Thomas nodded at you and left the Garrison. You continued cleaning the bar surface, tired after the whole day.

“Hey, Y/N, do you want me to walk home with you?”, asked John, looking at you with shining eyes.

You smiled politely at him and shook your head. “It’s alright, John. I can walk on my own, like every night.”

Then, Arthur appeared next to his little brother and patted his back. “Let’s go, John. She’ll be fine,” he said, turning to look at you directly in the eyes, “no one will dare touch her. By order of the Peaky Blinders. Good night, Y/N.”

“Bye, Arthur… and John.”

After that, the only remaining space to clean was the small room. So you started with it, picking up the glasses and the empty bottle as well as emptying the ashtrays. When you tidied up the seats something caught your eye, slowly you got closer and reached for it.

It was a folded piece of paper. You recognised Arthur’s handwriting. Y/N.

With the tip of your finger you traced the letters before unfolding the paper. You couldn’t help but smile at the little drawing. It was rough and simple, definitely not great at all, similar to the way children draw. But it was recognizable, the tiny figure had your clothes, your apron and the same hairstyle you always wore to work.

Arthur had drawn you, and even if it wasn’t a masterpiece, it warmed your heart. Carefully, you folded it again and put it in your cardigan pocket.

Despite his fame, you could tell that Arthur was a good man, a man who had come back from France changed. But, of all the men who returned from the war, was there any who remained the same as the one who left?

#arthur shelby #peaky blinders #arthur shelby x reader #reader insert #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby #arthur shelby x y/n #arthur shelby imagine

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darkshelbyfiction · 6 months

Text

The Nanny Diaries (Part One)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Innocent Reader

Warning: Dark Cillian has an innocence kink...Smut...Infidelity...Dub Con

It had been three months since you started working for Cillian and Lorna Murphy, looking after their two young children Sienna and Mitch.

You had recently turned eighteen and left your small town in America, eager to see the world beyond your front door so, moving to Dublin, was the perfect opportunity for you.

Through a family friend, who was an actor as well, you were given the chance to work as an Au Pair for the famous Irish actor who, with his wife and children, lived in a beautiful country estate just outside Dublin city, surrounded by vast gardens filled with flowers and trees.

Their home was like a sanctuary where nature merged seamlessly into luxury - wooden floors, high ceilings adorned with original works of art and large bay windows which looked out onto acres of greenery.

Their children were absolutely adorable.

Little Sienna was full of energy, running all over the place, whilst little Mitch would be curled up watching cartoons quietly. At first, it seemed strange, but gradually you found yourself enjoying every moment spent playing games, reading bedtime stories and preparing meals for them.

The only person whose company made you feel slightly nervous, however, was Cillian himself. You felt a strange and somewhat forbidden attraction towards this 45 year old man, something no one could quite understand considering how close he was to your father’s age.

However, being strictly catholic and engaged to young man back home, you brushed this off as simply being star struck and though Cillian wasn't exactly flirtatious, there was something undeniably captivating about him.

Cillian soon noticed the way you looked at him, the subtle flush of excitement that crossed your face when he walked into the room, and despite his own marriage status, he began making excuses to get closer to you. His constant praise made you blush, while the lingering glances gave you butterflies in your stomach.

One evening after Lorna had gone to bed, Cillian invited you to listen to some music with him in the dimly lit living room.

There was a comforting familiarity in the scent of leather, polished wood and roaring embers in the fireplace as you sat down beside him on the plump sofa. For some reason, your heart skipped a beat as you sank deeper into the soft upholstery and Cillian silently handed you a glass of wine and smiled.

"You did well today. Thanks for looking after them so diligently," Cillian acknowledged just as you traced the contours of his strong jaw line with your eyes.

"They are good kids. Despite, looking after them, is my job," you stammered in response. You couldn't help feeling nervous around this man, even more now since it was just the two of you.

"Still, it's nice not having to worry. So, thank you," Cillian said while leaning back into the couch, crossing one leg over another. "It can be quite draining sometimes looking after them."

"It can be," you smiled while your cheeks reddened as you tried not to stare at him openly. For a moment silence enveloped the space before you continued speaking softly, barely audible enough for him to hear properly.

"So you like Portishead, huh?" you asked, changing the topic to music as their album "Glorybox" was playing in the background. His face shifted to curiosity briefly, then turned serious again as he reached out slowly to brush his hand over your knee.

"I do. How about you? he asked, turning his head towards you. "Do you like their music?" he then asked and you felt a mix of fear and excitement surging through your body upon the sudden contact - your heart raced faster, and a warmth seemed to rise up inside you as his fingers caressed gently along your thigh. Trying hard to maintain composure, you responded casually yet uneasily.

"I do," you managed to utter softly as his fingers traced higher along your inner thigh. As his hand lingered there uninvited, your breath quickened involuntarily – a mixture of panic and arousal coursing through your veins. It wasn't right, what he was doing, but still, deep within you, a primal urge took hold.

"How is your boyfriend? Are things good between you?" Cillian prodded, leaning closer as he spoke. You could feel his breath tickling your ear as he whispered these words, sending chills down your spine despite yourself. Your hands trembled lightly, unsure whether to push him away or surrender to his advances, caught somewhere between terror and thrilling anticipation.

"He...uhm...yes... he is good," you stammered as his fingers dipped deeper beneath your skirt, brushing against your underwear teasingly, causing a wave of heat to ripple throughout your core.

Aware of the danger you were in, a part of you wanted to resist, while another desperately desired to succumb to his touch, craving the sensuality he offered with such intensity.

"Do you miss him?" Cillian asked quietly, almost tenderly while his fingers ran circles over your moistening panties.

Unable to think clearly due to the intensity of his advances, you struggled to find your voice. Involuntarily, your mouth hung open, dazed by the sensations that flowed through your body.

"I do miss him, yes," you finally murmured, unable to meet his eyes, as you fought to quell the desire rising up inside you. This was wrong, terribly wrong, but why did it feel so right?

"Do you miss him touching you like this?" Cillian asked huskily as, finally, he pushed aside the wet fabric of your knickers, allowing his finger to slide tantalisingly over your wet slit.

"He never..." you mumbled hesitantly, trying to regain control of both your mind and body, struggling to ignore the growing sense of guilt mixed with exhilaration that consumed you.

"He never what?" Cillian challenged, his tone darkening as his finger continued to explore the sensitive folds between your legs. One of his fingers began to push its way inside you, penetrating your tight entrance gently yet firmly, eliciting gasps and whimpers from you as pleasure ricocheted through your body.

"He never touched me down there before," you admitted reluctantly, knowing it wouldn't matter anyway because you knew deep down that this went far beyond mere physical exploration.

"Really?" Cillian queried with disbelief, pulling his fingers free from your quivering passage before pushing it in again, harder this time, his thumb pressing rhythmically against your clitoris. You let out a strangled cry, lost in the throes of ecstasy as your entire body writhed in pleasure.

"Have you ever touched yourself like this?" Cillian questioned deeply, his tone laced with raw passion, drawing a sharp intake of air from you. You didn't answer immediately, too absorbed in the exquisite sensations consuming your body. But eventually, the truth emerged haltingly from your lips.

"No. It's not allowed," you confessed seeing that you were strictly catholic, ashamed of admitting the fact aloud, wishing to sink into the floor beneath you.

"Do you want me to stop?" Cillian asked softly, lifting his hand away from your drenched crotch to rest it once more on the armrest of the couch. Your mind reeled as the erotic spell broke, leaving you feeling bewildered and confused.

Despite the intensity of the encounter, you shook your head defiantly, determined not to allow yourself to be further enticed.

"Alright. Can you take off your panties for me then?" Cillian commanded authoritatively, breaking the momentary awkwardness. His eyes bore into yours, demanding obedience. Reluctantly, you nodded, sliding your skirt lower until your knickers slipped off easily, exposing your naked thighs and pussy. The bold act sent shockwaves through your system, filling you with a potent cocktail of shame and arousal. Cillian observed you hungrily, appreciating the sight of your supple curves and smooth skin.

With determination in his eyes, he reached for your exposed thighs, rubbing his palms alluringly up and down them until his fingers found your wet labia. Gently cupping your sex, he teased you playfully, watching closely as your breath caught in your throat and your pupils widened with desire.

His erection strained against his jeans, making your nipples perk up in response.

He then inserted not one but two of his thick digits into your dripping core gently, feeling the resistance of your virginity as he thrust them in and out as small streak of blood trickled onto his fingers.

There was some discomfort in your expression, partly due to the pain caused by your first sexual experience but also fueled by anxiety and confusion regarding the situation.

Inside you, your mind wavered between feelings of remorse and yearning satisfaction as his powerful hands controlled your movements, taking command of your pleasure.

As he moved inside you, his touch became firmer, his pace picking up speed, creating a sensation unlike anything you had ever known before. Your whole body ached, your muscles twitching with the force of the waves crashing through you.

"You are incredibly tight," Cillian remarked approvingly, withdrawing his fingers momentarily only to plunge them back in again with greater fervor. His rough hands expertly navigated your insides, working you mercilessly, ignoring the protest of your uninitiated flesh. Each penetration drove a fresh wave of pleasure through your body, your nerves firing rapidly, setting every inch of your skin ablaze until, suddenly, you couldn't hold back any longer.

With a loud moan escaping your lips, you eventually came undone and Cillian covered your mouth with the palm of his free hand as your body began convulsing violently in orgasm.

"Sssh, we don't want to wake up Lorna," he chuckled quietly as your vision swam as your world turned upside down, your entire focus narrowed down to the sensations washing over you. Aftershocks radiated through your limbs, causing tiny tremors to run up and down your body as if electric currents surged through your very soul.

Breathless and flushed, you collapsed back into the embrace of the couch, exhausted and invigorated simultaneously as Cillian carefully withdrew his fingers from inside your body.

Wetness and a tiny amount of blood tickled down onto the leather fabric on which you were sitting as your heart hammered wildly in your chest.

Cillian smiled devilishly at you, amused by how quickly he had brought you to climax, and you felt both grateful and somewhat shocked.

Your stomach squirmed with a strange mix of emotions: gratitude, humiliation, and embarrassment battled furiously amongst themselves. Your cheeks reddened with a combination of both physical stimulation and shame.

"I shouldn't have done that," you muttered, attempting to make sense of your own behaviour. You had committed a sin against God and your morals, and now, here you were - wanting more of it.

The thought scared you, but something stirred deep within you, telling you it would be foolish to dismiss it entirely. There was a power to this darkness that held an addictive quality, like the forbidden fruit you had just sampled.

"You seemed to have enjoyed it though," Cillian smirked. His statement carried undertones that left no doubt as to what he meant just as you both were startled by Lorna who came walking down the stairs to fetch herself a drink from the fridge.

Quickly, you adjusted your skirt to cover your slightly bruised and still wet entrance before hastily grabbing your discarded knickers. Cillian, without missing a beat, made himself appear nonchalant, leaning casually against the armrest beside you.

Lorna looked curiously at the both of you, remarking "It seems quite late. You should come to bed Cillian", unaware of the recent events transpiring.

"I will be up in just a minute love". Cillian lied, hoping to prolong the interaction with you for just a little bit longer but, unfortunately for him, you decided to head to your room instead, claiming tiredness.

After you closed the door behind you, the tension dissolved slightly and Cillian sighed audibly, running his hand through his messy locks, visibly conflicted, pondering on about what happened.

Even as he prepared for sleep later that evening, right next to his wife, he couldn't help but dwell upon the enchanting image of you submitting to his touch, succumbing under his influence. Something about your innocence intrigued him even more than other women had. Perhaps it was the challenge you presented—the thrill of dominance over someone who belonged to another man.

Or maybe it was the sweet, lingering aftertaste of guilt you left on his tongue whenever he took liberties with your pure body. Whatever the reason, he simply could not resist pursuing you further despite the danger it posed to his marriage.

Meanwhile, you too, were laying in bed, thinking about what had transpired.

Your mind raced through memories of your earlier interactions with Cillian – his confidence, his touch, his mannerisms. There was that secret part of you that craved more contact, regardless of where it might lead. This newfound curiosity frightened you almost as much as it excited you.

You wondered what it would be like to touch him the way he had touched you, whether his experienced body would respond to you as you did to him. For so long, the idea of intimacy had been taboo for you, yet somehow, those strict boundaries seemed to shift when it came to Cillian.

Your core ached from the intrusion, and your cheeks burned with indignation, but there was a spark of excitement that lit up deep within you as well.

You wanted him to do this again and you knew that this was wrong and so did he.

#cillian murphy #cilliean murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic

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shelbystales · 4 months

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Ceramic Lessons - Part Eight

Cillian Murphy X Reader - Masterlist

Summary: after much insistence from his sister, Cillian attends a ceramics class with her. To his surprise, he feels a connection to the teacher, you. Will this connection go any further or will it be smashed like a bad ceramic project?

Previous parts: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Warning: swearing, fluff and mention of drugs

A/n: hey guys! please don’t forget to let me know what you think! Hope you like it.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The next day you woke up with no news from Cillian. But still, the day was sunny and warm, a good day to be alive, to stand up from the bed and go live another day, you thought as you stretched watching the view from your bedroom window.

You got ready to go to your morning jog, enjoying your free time from classes. Not that you don’t like being a teacher. But it’s so good to have some time to yourself.

As you ran you made your way to the beach to admire the people around. The beach was noisy and filled with people and their dogs. You smiled admiring the simple things, the kids laughed as the dog fetched the ball inside the ocean, the little girl running after her mom, the young playing volleyball and a couple nested close together. You breathed in the ocean breeze and continued your race.

After quite some time you returned home and took a relaxing shower.

You jumped on the couch with your notebook and began drawing some piece ideas for your next collection until the intercom buzzed. You made your way to it and pressed the button

“Who 's it?” you asked

“Me, mon amour!” a familiar voice answered

“Bela?!” you asked happily

“Yes, now let your sister in!! I’m sweating as a horse out here” she demanded

You quickly allowed her passage inside the building with the click of another button and in a few seconds she was at your door.

You hugged her tightly “I don't want to let go” you said, your words muffled in her hair.

“I’m afraid you have too because I need to pee asap. Unless you like me too pee on your floor” she joked

“No, I'm good,” you said, unhugging her and letting her inside to rush to the bathroom.

Isabela emerged from the bathroom with a dramatic sigh of relief, and you both settled into the familiar comfort of your living room. She looked around, taking in the sketches scattered on the coffee table.

"Still working on your pottery empire, I see," Isabela teased, settling onto the couch.

You chuckled, joining her. "Always. So, what brings you here? Not that I'm complaining. It's a pleasant surprise."

Isabela flashed a mischievous smile. "Well, my dear, I happen to be in town for a few days. Work-related stuff. And I thought, why not drop by and check on my favorite sister?"

You grinned. "Lucky me."

Isabela shared more details about her recent adventures in Paris, the bustling fashion scene, and the eccentric characters she had encountered in the city of love. As she told you her stories, you fetched her some water and some snacks.

As you listened to her animated stories, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for your sister's accomplishments.

Isabela's vibrant energy filled the room, a stark contrast from you.

Isabela, with her flamboyant personality and penchant for drama, was like a burst of color in a room, drawing attention effortlessly. Her stories of high-fashion escapades and eccentric characters filled the air with an infectious enthusiasm. She possessed an outward, effervescent charm that charmed everyone around her.

You, on the other hand, were the quiet force, absorbing the energy around you and channeling it into your art. Your introspective nature allowed you to delve deep into your creative process, finding inspiration in the subtle nuances of everyday life. But you were not entirely introverted, you are not shy or anything like it. On the contraire, you like being around people and socializing, but maybe after many years in therapy you learned to love yourself to a point where you prefer your company over anyone else’s.

While Isabela sparkled like a firework, you were the steady glow of a candle, radiating warmth and depth.

"But how long are you planning to stay?" you asked randomly as Isabela finished a story about peacocks. You loved your sister, but sometimes she was too much for you, so staying too long with her could be a challenge.

"Jesus. Already kicking me out, sis? I can go stay with mom and dad," she said, her mouth full of peanuts.

"I wasn't kicking you out. I just have to plan," you shrugged.

"Right, I don't know. I think I’ll leave Thursday, so... four days," she counted on her fingers. "Can you house me for four days?"

"Of course," you smiled.

"And how is life here? How are your classes going?" she asked with a gentle glare.

"All good. All are filled. I don't have any more free spots," you shared, your gaze drifting to the sketches scattered on the table. "I've been caught up with my pottery classes, and I must admit I love it. But I’ve been taking some projects aside. I am currently making some pieces for a new hotel."

“Uh, that's fancy! And oh my god, it's incredible to not have any empty spots! I’m so proud,” she declared, making you smile genuinely.Isabela leaned in, genuine curiosity in her eyes. "Tell me more about your life here. Any exciting developments, intriguing characters, or perhaps a dirty romance?"

You chuckled at her dramatic flair. "No dirty romance, Bela.It's not as exciting as your Parisian escapades. Just the usual pottery classes and some interesting students."

She raised an eyebrow. "Interesting students, you say? Anyone caught your eye? A man perhaps?"

“How do you do that?” you asked.

“Do what?” she asked, confused.

“Read between the lines,” you asked curiously. She shrugged and drank her water. “Oooh,” your mouthed, connecting the dots. “Mom told you.”

“She did. Now tell me, how is he? Is he really that nice? Can a Hollywood star be nice?” she shifted on her spot.

“Cillian is great, he’s nice,” you smiled.

“Oh, come on, give me more! Do I have to beg?" she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Fine, fine.. He's down-to-earth, genuine, and surprisingly humble. Fame hasn't gone to his head, as far as i’ve seen. He's been through a lot, dealing with his ex-wife and son, but he's handling it with grace. And he seems like a great dad."

Isabela leaned back, processing the information. "Well, color me impressed, sis. You've managed to snag yourself a celebrity. I can't wait to meet him. But spill the details, sis! What's he like when the cameras are off? How’ve met?"

You leaned in conspiratorially. "He's just like anyone else. We met in class, his sister is my student. she constantly spoke about him, until one day she brought him in. He has gorgeous eyes and smells great. We've had dinner dates, beach dates.. three dates at total. No drama aside from his ex."

“That she is a crazy one, right?” Isabela interrupted with a smirk as you looked at her puzzled. “Oh come on, when mom told me who you were dating, I had to google!”

You frowned at her. “Really, what did you find?”

“Oh god, you never googled him?” she asked, shocked.

“Didn't want to invade his privacy, or know more than I should. I'd rather learn about him from himself.”

She rolled her eyes. “For fuck's sake, that's so you... well, for your knowledge, I didn't find much. He has done an incredible job at keeping his life to himself. BUT, I can't say the same about her. Do you wanna see her Instagram? It's a crazy person’s Instagram,” she said, already picking up her phone and showing it to you.

You hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded, curiosity getting the better of you. Isabela handed you her phone, displaying a colorful and chaotic Instagram profile.

"There she is," Isabela pointed at a picture of Cillian's ex-wife, her feed filled with flashy and attention-grabbing posts. You scrolled through, feeling a mix of surprise and unease.

"Wow, she really puts everything out there, doesn't she?" you commented, slightly taken aback by a seminude picture with ‘DREAM OF ME’ written on her chest.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort seeing such a public display of someone who played a significant role in Cillian's past. You handed Isabela's phone back.

Isabela laughed, "Oh, you have no idea. She's like a whole reality show in one person. her Storys are unique and the captions! ‘you know you want me’ or ‘anybody ready for a good time?’ “ she mocked as she read, making you feel embarrassed for her. “You'd think she's a problematic influencer, not someone's ex-wife… not someone’s mom. I bet in a few months she will create an OnlyFans account"

“For real?”

“Yes, look at her” she showed you the phone again

"Well, she certainly knows how to make a statement," you said, still processing what you had just seen.

Isabela shrugged, her eyes fixed on the screen "Cillian made a wise choice moving on,” she remarked casually, her tone carrying a hint of nonchalance.

You silently agreed, wondering if she was always the same character she seemed to be today.

The conversation sort of ended, and you helped your sister settle into your guest bedroom, all while continuing your discussion.

She had some work to do on her computer, and later that day, you both found yourselves sitting together on the couch, debating over what to eat and what to watch. The various food options displayed on the screen made the decision a tough one.

Just as you were about to settle on a choice, your phone buzzed, and Cillian's name lit up the screen. Isabela's eyes widened with excitement. "Oh, look who it is!” she almost screamed.

A warm smile spread across your face, and you accepted the call. "Hey, you," you greeted.

"Hey there," Cillian's voice echoed through the phone.

"Hi! Perfect timing. We were just trying to decide on dinner," Isabela yelled to your ear, making you quickly stand from the couch and walk inside your bedroom for some privacy.

“Who was that?” Cillian asked after giving a prolonged laugh.

“My sister,” you answered, closing the door and jumping onto your bed.

“Oh, I can call you another time,” he suggested.

“No, it 's ok. How are you?”

“Good, relaxed. Had a good day. You?” he sighed as if he was sitting down.

“Me too. Normal day. My sister surprised me with her visit.”

“You don't sound so happy about that,” he chuckled.

“No, don't get me wrong. I love her so much... but she is too much for my ears to handle all day long. And she is staying until Thursday,” you explained.

“Is she the one that lives in Paris?”

“The one and only.”

“Ah, there is an example of an overrated city,” he teased, his voice carrying a playful tone as he chuckled on the other end of the line. "I'd love to hear more about her. I know from experience that sisters can be quite entertaining"

You chuckled, realizing that your sister's vibrant personality was indeed something to behold. "Oh, she's entertaining, alright. We are about to order in, you can join if you want”

“Oh, y/n. You have no idea how much I would love to, but I have Lukas and we already ate some spaghetti” he said, sounding a bit frustrated.

Cillian's mention of Lukas brought a smile to your face. "Spaghetti sounds good. How is he doing by the way?"

"He 's doing great. Today we went to my brother’s house. He played with his cousins all day, just put him to bed” Cillian replied, the fondness for his son evident in his voice.

“Good. I was worried”

“I can imagine” he sighed and after a few seconds in silence he finally let it out “His mom is using again”

You closed your eyes, not wanting to hear what he just said “I’m so sorry”

“Yeah. Me too. I’ll have to go to court this week” he inhaled and exhaled “I wish i could hold you right now”

“Me too” you smiled “I could make you some hot chocolate, because it warms the heart” you said and he chuckled

“I would love some hot chocolate”

“You could live closer, not almost half an hour” you complained

“I’ll be calling a real estate agent tomorrow to fix that” he said, making you giggle “we should have dinner here. you can meet Lukas”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I want him to meet you”

“And I him”

“Just gotta give him some time. He’s a little upset about not being allowed to see his mom for a while. How about saturday?”

“Saturday is great, but in the meantime you could pass by…”

“We can have lunch anytime you want, Lukas eats at school”

“Tuesday?”

“It’s a date”

“No, my sister will join us, so... not a date…” You chuckled

“Okay, I can't wait to meet her”

Taglist: @allie131313 @sherbitdibdab @sinceviennas @stilestotherescue @astheni-a @kitkatkaitin @amanda08319 @trixie23 @nancystrange @daisythekitty @cillianbabe @sinceviennas @si1ver06 @kitkatkait @isabbellagonzalezz18 @babypink224221 @1nterstellarcha0s @thenattitude

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 3 months

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I love all your analysis! Could I ask you to chime in, if you have the time and the inclination, on my pet theory?

Here it goes: Meghan found it harder than Catherine to be succeed in the Royal family because she's not athletic.

The Aristo crowd is sporty. It's a good marker of privilege - one you cannot fake - to be able to ski, play tennis, row, sail, ride, dive. All these things require lots of leisure time, and money, and the confident, cheerful ease of the amateur sportsman.

Catherine is a good minor athlete - her reaction to the 2007 breakup was to enter a rowing challenge with her girlfriends (she went clubbing with Pips too, sure, but she was out there most mornings in her wetsuit, being healthy and determined). It's hard to explain the mindset of the "amateur athlete in friendly competition" if you've never been one, but it gives you confidence, emotional regulation, and the bone deep knowledge that small constant steps are key to achieving progress and success.

Meghan just knows that "rich people go skiing", and she gets photographed on the slopes in an unsuitable coat, thinking it's the same thing. She looks for the shortcut - and she may fool some of the non-skiers, but it's just a house of cards. It works for an influencer who will quickly move on to the next thing, but the Royal family thinks in decades, and the persona their PR builds for you must have some consistency.

And there would have been nothing wrong with saying outright "you know what, I didn't grow up with that kind of money, I can't ski or row" - she would have got lots of sympathy.

Don't you love "training montages" in movies? She could have had years of upbeat training montage PR! Or she could have gone with an "outsider perspective" PR strategy, where she would have represented the slightly ironic common man faced with the BRF.

But Meghan the Narc can't stand to acknowledge she doesn't know something. She should have been herself, and instead she tried to be Catherine and failed.

It's a good theory, but i don't think it holds much weight when you really dig into it - for exactly what you pointed out: Meghan wasn't herself.

Kate was unabashedly and genuinely herself. Long before St. Andrews or William entered the picture, and she stayed that way after everything with William. The aristo crowd probably prefers that, and Kate doesn't strike me as someone who's impressed by all that. She probably cared more about their art collection than whether they were Duke So-and-So or Earl Whozitsandwhatsits, and that's impressive on its own. (I'm reminded now of the story with Cillian Murphy; he doesn't like it when people fawn all over him and he shuts down when that happens, so a seat-filler who sat next to him at one of the recent awards shows pretended she didn't know who he was and had the most incredible conversation wtih him.)

Whereas Meghan was always playing a role, and badly at that. So it was pretty easy for the aristo crowd to see right through her and know that she was bad news. Especially once she stop pretending to be aristo-like, with the cursing and demanding to sit next to Harry/switching place cards at the dinner parties, the screaming at staff, policing what everyone was saying and confronting them when it wasn't PC (according to her).

I think being sporty/athletic helped Kate, but the vibe I get from the aristo crowd isn't necessarily a sporty set. As a whole, they seem more outdoorsy to me with the skiing holidays, the shooting parties, the horse racing, the sailing. I think William's side of the aristo crowd (like his friends and Anne's family that he's closest to) is sporty because that's what they've connected over, and Kate fits in well with that crowd so it was easier for her to be accepted by them. But there's also the "city" side of the aristo crowd like the Yorkies and the Spencers where they're more known for their holidays, artsy/culture-type activities, and spectatoring sports.

Not to say that the two can't blend - they do, obviously, and everyone is probably really good at code-switching to navigate between the different segments of the aristo world (William and Kate especially as the future King and Queen, who have to be both representational and aspirational to all segments of the populartion, not just the aristos). And maybe the more culture set are sporty too (like how Diana danced and the Yorks skiied) but sport isn't how we think of those aristos. The latter crowd is what Meghan expected because that's the world Diana inhabited and as we all know, Meghan views royalty through Diana exclusively, so when she saw Kate in that sphere, she tried to emulate that side of Kate (the evening-gown wearing, gala attending, world-traveling, tennis-watching, polo-wifeing Kate) not knowing that it's just a small piece of who, and what, Kate actually is.

It's why the role she tried to play fell flat; Meghan didn't know the whole character, she just had the PR version of Kate to work with. Or, in acting parlance, Meghan had the character notes for Kate the Bit Player. She didn't get the character profile for Catherine, the Duchess of Cambridge, a main character.

Going back to what you originally said, that Meghan didn't integrate as easily as Kate did because of the athletics, I'd say it's bigger than that. It's because she didn't have any hobbies or interests. Everyone in the aristo set has hobbies and interests. Meghan didn't/doesn't have a single hobby and that made/makes it hard to connect with people on any level. She didn't need to have the same hobbies or interests as everyone else, she just had to have something. But she didn't. She had nothing.

All she had was Harry but Harry assumes the personality of whomever he's dating...which is the same thing Meghan does; she assumes the personality of whomever she's dating. So when there are two people being each other, they end up with nothing. Or they end up being his mother. Which isn't that much better either.

#ask #brf #theories

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denimbex1986 · 10 months

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'When the companies behind Ira Sachs’ new drama about the shifting currents of intimacy in a troubled love triangle submitted Passages to the Motion Picture Association ratings board, they probably anticipated an R.

But the MPA came back with an NC-17 rating, forcing the distributor to release the film (which premiered at Sundance earlier this year) unrated rather than risk commercial marginalization or impose cuts that would diminish its intensity...

Let’s be clear: Passages — which Mubi opened Aug. 4 in Los Angeles and New York before expanding to other cities in the weeks to come — is a movie with a generous amount of sex, both gay and straight. But it’s neither particularly explicit nor remotely gratuitous, even if it’s frequently quite hot.

The sex is, above all, integral to the movie’s emotional texture, to the way the characters navigate their volatile relationships, the way they express their feelings and explore their connections through their bodies as they come together and pull apart. In other words, the film’s candor in depicting sex and nudity nudges it closer to European cinema than American.

The ratings controversy around Sachs’ movie comes just as Oppenheimer has been generating talk on social media and in the press about being the first Christopher Nolan movie to feature sex scenes. The trysts between Cillian Murphy as scientist J. Robert Oppenheimer and Florence Pugh as his lover both before and during the former’s marriage earned the release an R rating, which is standard given the glimpses of sweaty flesh on view.

But the fact that people are talking about it at all — and no one has been talking about it louder than Nolan himself — just underlines how squeamish American movies are about sex and sensuality.

The sex scenes in both those movies serve a clear narrative purpose. In Nolan’s film, they convey the magnetism of Oppenheimer and its ultimately devastating effect on a woman who, while not really on screen long enough to acquire much complexity, is defined by her intellectual curiosity, political radicalism and carnal desire.

The actual intercourse — once during the affair and once years later, as a haunting specter conjured in a security hearing — is brief and somewhat mechanical, while a long post-coital discussion has Murphy and Pugh sitting naked in armchairs on opposite sides of a room, carefully positioned and framed to keep crotches out of sight. The scene looks like an interview for an admin job at a nudist colony. It’s anything but erotic.

The scene in the Paris-set Passages that evidently had the MPA clutching their pearls, by contrast, is erotically and emotionally charged, raunchy and tender. It takes place after narcissistic German filmmaker Tomas (Franz Rogowski) has strayed outside his marriage to English print-maker Martin (Ben Whishaw) with Agathe (Adèle Exarchapoulos), a French schoolteacher he met at the wrap party for his latest feature.

Back in bed with Martin again, Tomas more or less offers himself up, resulting in sex that could be a bid for forgiveness, a reconciliation, a sad acknowledgment of enduring feelings or a manipulative attempt by Tomas to keep a hold on his husband while continuing to explore a new relationship. Or it could be all of those things.

Like the movie’s other sex scenes, it’s dramatically loaded, and although it’s shot in a single take with no artful draping of the sheets, it’s hardly graphic...

The prim attitude toward sex in American movies goes beyond MPA rulings to Hollywood itself. Sex and unapologetic sensuality have been all but banished from the mainstream since the heyday of erotic thrillers in the 1980s and early ‘90s — films like Dressed to Kill, American Gigolo, Body Heat, Basic Instinct, 9½ Weeks, The Last Seduction, Color of Night and Sliver. People onscreen were getting laid and loving it back then.

What happened to make American movies so desexualized? As the holdover artistic spirit of the emancipated ‘70s faded further into the distance, studios became increasingly corporate and less creative in their thinking. In order to be profitable, movies had to play not only across the U.S. — including conservative Red states and Bible Belt regions — but internationally, where many countries have rigidly imposed codes concerning sex and nudity.

The ascendance of the superhero movie has been another nail in the coffin of sensuality. In the Superman films of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, there was most definitely something cooking between Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder. But in the more recent wave of comic book-inspired action fare, the protagonists are so sexless they might as well be genital-free Kens and Barbies...

Where, in film, is the supposed sex-positive movement that has become part of the cultural conversation? Cable and streaming platforms have stepped into the breach with shows that don’t hold back on steamy content — think Girls, Insecure, P-Valley, Bridgerton, Game of Thrones, Euphoria and The White Lotus.

So is the dearth of grownup attitudes toward sex and sensuality on big screens a stagnant situation or a step backwards? Many would argue convincingly that it’s been that way since the late ‘90s. But it’s also conceivable that we’re in a unique perfect-storm moment, where far-right conservatism has converged with post-MeToo liberal timidity. On social media, some Gen-Z filmgoers have even questioned whether sex scenes have a place in movies. Seriously, kids, you need to get out more.

The presence of intimacy coordinators on set has no doubt helped to ensure an environment of increased safety and trust for actors, establishing essential boundaries of body autonomy. But unlike so many uninhibited European screen stars, the majority of major-name American performers remain shy about stripping down and going at it.

Witness Penn Badgley declaring his dislike of filming intimate scenes and his insistence on less sex and skin for his character in season 4 of Netflix’s You out of respect for his marriage. “That aspect of Hollywood has always been very disturbing to me,” said the actor in a Variety interview. But many of us who bemoan the shortage of full-blooded sensuality at the multiplex might wonder which Hollywood he’s talking about.'

#Penn Badgley #You #Oppenheimer #Cillian Murphy #Florence Pugh #Passages #Ira Sachs #Christopher Nolan #Ben Whishaw #Franz Rogowski #Netflix #American Gigolo #Nine and a half Weeks #Adèle Exarchapoulos #Basic Instinct

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runnning-outof-time · 10 months

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K’s Reading List — JULY

Hey there! Thanks for stumbling upon this reading list! I figured that as a way to support the lovely writers within this fandom that I’d compile a reading list of all of the stories I read over each month.

July was a wonderful month filled with incredible stories. Below is the list of stories that I read. I hope you will find some that you like as well!

As always, please make sure you heed to the warnings on each fic!!

@cillmequick

Strike A Pose - Cillian Murphy x Reader short

The Shirt - Mrs. M from The Lockdown Sessions tells all (sorta reader/sorta OC)

The Dress, pt. 1 - Cillian Murphy x Reader (from on-going series The Lockdown Sessions)

@gypsy-girl-08

Blind Date - Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader (on-going series) — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

Dangerously In Love - Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader (completed series) — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

A Small Mishap - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@anotherblinder

Respite - Tommy Shelby x Reader blurb

Talk - Tommy Shelby x Reader , hints at Alfie Solomons x Reader (from an on-going series)

@zablife

Mr. and Mrs. Shelby’s Private Correspondence - letters between Tommy Shelby and an OC (in collaboration with @look-at-the-soul )

Chocolate Chip Pancakes - Carmen Berzatto (from The Bear)

Obey - Tatiana Petrovna x OC — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

Windflowers - Tommy Shelby x OC

@call-sign-shark

Under The Willow Tree - letters between Alfie Solomons and an OC (in collaboration with @raincoffeeandfandoms )

“You Are My Heaven On Earth” - May Carleton x OC

After the Storm, the Sun - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@raincoffeeandfandoms

Birdies - letters between John Shelby and an OC (in collaboration with @zablife )

Alfie taking care of s/o headcannons - Alfie Solomons x Reader — check tags for potential warnings!

Unforgettable - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Crimes - Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons blurb

No (yes) - Tommy Shelby & Ruby Shelby

Uncle Alfie - Alfie Solomons & Ruby Shelby

@look-at-the-soul

The way to a man’s heart - Tommy Shelby x Reader — contains slight 🔞 NSFW themes!

@dearshelby

Disencounter - Arthur Shelby x Reader

@forgottenpeakywriter

Happiness Poem - Tommy Shelby

@inthepeakymidwinter

Bon Voyage - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@writeroutoftime

Carmen Berzatto x Reader Blurb (from The Bear)

@peakyltd

Reflection - Tommy Shelby x Reader blurb

Anything For You - Arthur Shelby x Reader

@shelbydelrey

Mr. Shelby and Jay Gatsby - letters between Tommy Shelby and an OC (in collaboration with @there-goes-thefighter )

@bi-bard

I Saw The End, It Looks Just Like The Middle - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@evita-shelby

The Gala - Tommy Shelby x OC — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

@everythingelseisextra

Those Nights - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Poetic Justice - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@teenwolf-theoriginals

Carmy Blurb - Carmen Berzatto x Reader (from The Bear)

@emotionalcadaver

In The Heart of War - Henry Wilson (Shivering Soldier from Dunkirk) x OC (completely series)

@cljordan-imperium

Arthur & Kate (Art & Kay) — letters between Arthur Shelby and an OC (in collaberation with me)

@writers-hes

Protection - Tommy Shelby x Reader (on-going series) — make sure to read warnings!

@holacia3

Tommy Shelby blurb - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@peakyblindersforlife

Don’t Leave - Tommy Shelby x OC

@blushykiss

Feisty - Tommy Shelby x Reader — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

#k’s fic recs #k’s reading list #k’s recs #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x oc

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kytrisz · 8 months

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left | Cillian Murphy

| pairing. cillian murphy x reader

(Y/N) like to watch him sleep.

That's an understatement, she loves to watch him sleep. He is like a book that she doesn't get tired of studying. His profound nose wrinkles from time to time. His pouty lips let out that snore she hated but loved at the same time. And his beautiful eyes that flutter in his long lashes that she envied so much. All about him is just a piece of art, her piece of art.

But was he, hers?

Tangled both naked in the sheets where moonlight reflects on their bodies. Carefully, she raised her hand at his strong face. Using her forefinger she dips it into his middle brow tracing it down to the tip of his nose, giving him a little bop. A grin painted on her face as she watched him crunch from his nose.

Still not letting it stop her, she switches the place of her hand to his cheeks. His sharp cheek she jokes around will cut her thigh every time he clings and rubs his face into it.

And lastly, the part she adores the most is his lips. She brings her finger down to the bottom of his lips and slowly rubs it. Reminiscing how this lip touches almost everything on her body.

Always taking time to learn everything about her. To the pore over your body, through the pick at her mind. He knows her like an open book. And he owns her body and soul.

While her... she can't, because he was not hers to have, and will never be.

Even before this rendezvous happens between the two of them, she knows it's only bound to doom. The eye contact, little touches, the text messages, the calls, the way he called her love. All of it is a mistake. But it was a mistake she committed for 3 years.

A deed that turns her into a person she despises the most. A mistress, harlot, homewrecker, slut, bitch, and monster who ruined every child's dream for a perfect and whole family. A woman with no fucking morals and a plague in the society.

Closing her eyes, she feels tears forming in, probably after all these years, the guilt is finally coming back into her. The guilt of spending and fucking someone else's husband and father.

But even though it was wrong, it still felt right. Why does it feel right? She repeatedly asks herself every time.

The connection they both held is something more than can be imagined. It's indescribable, indefinable. It's like a puzzle piece that she didn't even know was missing until she was with him. With him, she felt whole, and he felt the same way with her.

But not every love story always has a happy ending. Now, finally, after 2 weeks she finally made the hardest decision she ever made in her life.

As she slowly gets off the bed, she knows it's time. Time to finally let him go for the better.

She carefully gathered her clothes and tugged them on. And before she can open the door, she looks at him one last time watching longingly as the moonlight glazes over his figure.

And then she left with no trace, leaving everything behind and the home he made for her.

As the morning came on the rise, the person on the other side of the bed was pacing all over the apartment like a caged animal looking for her with his heart and mind filled with pain, confusion, questions, and (Y/N)…

'Why did she leave when he's ready to leave everything behind… '

#cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #cillain murphy #reader #oneshot #cillian fanfic #angst

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ronsenthal · 5 months

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tag game

✨get to know me✨

tagged by @whollyjoly and @xxluckystrike <3

- Name:

Jessica but since I don't really like my name you can use Jess or whatever you want

- Pronouns:

she/her/hers!

- Star sign:

So I'm a taurus, with aries moon and capricorn rising but theres is way too many aries on my chart for my own good

- # of siblings and fun facts about them (if you have any):

only child, but I do have a half-brother and we met like 2 years ago, he didn't even knew I existed and never talked after so I don't know if that really counts? (i have a really complicated family I know)

- # of pets & their names:

I have 5 (five) little monsters so we have Bowie (orange boy), Amy (white girl), Toto (black angry guy), Geminha (tortoiseshell girl) and Fedora (she is like grey with some yellow and white fur)

- Fandoms:

listen I am a mess but I think mostly BoB of course, some Percy Jackson lately, lots of Harrison Ford and Cillian Murphy??? IDK it's really all over the place

- Favorite color:

it's always changing but I love blues and lately I've been in love with some dark greens and stuff

- Favorite song:

Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie it's like the greatest piece of music ever written, and no this is not even a debate

- Favorite author (of anything readable - books, fanfics, zines, webtoons, whatever!):

I haven't been reading a lot in the last couple of years since I had burnout but some of my faves are J. R. R. Tolkien, George R. R. Martin and Bernard Cornwell. I got into graphic novels/comics quite recently and I absolute ADORE Neil Gaiman and Art Spiegelman. As for fics since I joined BoB fandom it's been @softguarnere

- Favorite fic type:

I don't think I have a preference at all as I read a bunch of different things, I'm not really into too angsty or fantasy AUs

- Favorite Holiday:

Idk I really like christmas because all of the mood with the lights, the songs and also because it means vacation time lmao

- Do you have a partner (romantic, qpr, anything!)?:

nope

- Hobbies:

I'm pretty boring since I like to listen to music, read, watch movies and tv shows and some sports on my free time. I also love to look at maps, go to museums and cook sometimes

- Fun facts about you:

Okay so most of you already know that I'm colorblind but I'm also ambidextrous so I can use both of my hands to drawn and write stuff, but it also means I'm so prone to mess up since I get confused sometimes. I have a pretty good sense of direction and distance, like at topography classes I could walk a straight line and tell the almost precise distance, it was a recurring joke my class

tagging, if you want!: @footprintsinthesxnd, @venus-haze, @mercurygray, @ronald-speirs, @bloodstainedsaint, @ewipandora, @georgieluz and @iceman-kazansky

#tag game #a little bit of jessica

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darerendevil · 5 months

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For archive purposes: October, 2012

A lean, slight, tousled figure in a sailor-striped T-shirt and buckle-back trousers, Cillian Murphy walks into an upscale Japanese restaurant in downtown Manhattan. As he says hello, sits down, and looks around the room with his extraordinary ultramarine blue eyes, I form my first impressions: kind, gentle, sensitive, good-humoured, with no visible traces of the villains, psychopaths and other tortured souls he has played so convincingly on stage and screen. He also looks a little weary, and there is good reason for this.

“I’ve had kind of a crazy week this week,” he says in a mellifluous Irish accent with a rich grainy timbre. “I was in the Ukraine for a film festival. I’ve been all over America promoting a film called Red Lights, which I’m in with Robert De Niro. Yesterday was The Dark Knight Rises premiere here in New York, and this afternoon we fly to London for the next premiere. It’s all part of the job, I suppose, but it’s certainly not the reason why you do it.”

The waiter arrives with water and menus, and after some study, Cillian (pronounced Killian) decides on a salad of shitakes and market greens, followed by the sashimi. “I’m a vegetarian who occasionally eats meat and fish,” he says. “I like a drink too, but I won’t just now. I’ll stick with water.” I order the Kobe beef and ask the waiter to bring out a glass of red wine with it.

Some actors enjoy talking about themselves and their films, and they do it well. Cillian does not count himself among them. “I’m getting less hung about it, but when I started, the whole promotion aspect was an ordeal to be endured,” he says. “I just don’t have a great facility for it. I try to be interesting and spontaneous but it’s so hard when you get asked the question fifty or a hundred times over. You hear your little anecdotes going stale. Yes, it was fantastic to work with Robert De Niro, but you can only say it so many times, you know? I’ve always thought, just judge me on the work. What else matters? I’m an actor and that’s what I do.”

There’s an assumption in the media that actors are all competing in the same horse race for A-list stardom, and that an actor like Cillian Murphy, who seems poised on the very brink of it, with the perfect combination of looks and talent, must surely be yearning to get there. Journalists find it hard to accept when he tells them that that the only thing he cares about is the work, and the rest of it is to be endured. But this is why he avoids celebrity parties and keeps himself out of the gossip pages. He attends his own premieres, because he has to, but he won’t go to anyone else’s and he dreads the four-minute television interview on the red carpet.

Off screen, he lives a quiet, normal life that he likes to keep as private as possible. He’s married to Yvonne McGuinness, a visual artist, and they’ve been together since he was 20. They have two sons, Malachy and Aran, and shuttle between their house in North West London and the ancestral sod of County Cork.

“I’ve always felt that the less the public knows about you, the more effective you can be when you go to portray someone else,” he says.“For actors to reveal so much about themselves, and allow their personal selves to be owned by the media and the public, I find at odds with trying to lose yourself in a character. And that’s the thing I’m after. That’s what drives me. I’m 36 now, and I still have a real hunger for it.”

He thinks the desire to perform for an audience is something genetic, a personality trait that lives in the DNA, and it first expressed itself in his youthful attempts to be a rock star.“Of all the arts, music is still the one that affects me on the deepest level,” he says. “My parents were teachers, not artistic types, but there was always music in the house, and all four of us kids learned to play music. I was in a few different bands, playing guitar, singing and songwriting.”

One of those bands was called The Sons of Mr Greengenes, after the Frank Zappa song. They were offered a five-album deal by Acid Jazz records, but turned it down, because the deal was a swindle and Cillian’s parents disapproved of the music business. At the same time, Cillian recognised that he’d reached the ceiling of his musical talent, and would never be as good as he wanted to be. He went to law school in Cork “for no good reason,” and then one day he wandered into a production of Clockwork Orange staged in local nightclub.

“If your first theatre experience is a bad one, it’s unlikely you’ll go back,” he says. “But my first theatre experience was an extraordinary one. It was dangerous and sexy and electric, and just astonishing. I’ll always love music, but here was another form of live performance, just as exciting.”He pestered the theatre company, and after some starter roles, he was cast in the lead of Disco Pigs, a strange and brilliant play by Enda Walsh about a sick, twisted, obsessive relationship between a deranged boy and a slightly less deranged girl next door. The play was a huge success, touring for several years, reaching as far afield as Toronto and Copenhagen, and in 2001 it was made into a film. Pale, beautiful and androgenous, with outsized lips and impossibly blue eyes, Cillian Murphy looks as though he drifted down to earth from some other galaxy, or floated up from a cave kingdom beneath the Irish Sea. This ethereal, otherworldly quality has been a great asset to him as an actor, and many of his films have taken place in imaginary realms or the future.

His big breakthrough came in 2002 when he was cast as the lead in Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later, and required to fight his way through a post-apocalyptic London full of zombies. He went to outer space in Boyle’s Sunshine, and Gotham City for Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy, in which he plays the sinister psychologist Scarerow. Nolan cast him again in Inception, as the target man for Leonardo DiCaprio’s team of dream-jackers.He’s also played a transvestite for Neil Jordan in Breakfast On Pluto, a creepy villain for Wes Craven in Red Eye, and a reluctant freedom fighter turned zealot for Ken Loach in The Wind Shakes The Barley, an epic about the Irish war of independence set in his native Cork. In all, he’s done 26 feature films, and while some of them haven’t turned out as well as he hoped, there are no bad or stupid films in his biography.

“You have to go in with good faith, and believe that this is best performance you’re ever going to give,” he says. “I’ve never done a film I didn’t believe in. I’ve never done a film for the money. Fortunately, I’ve been in some big budget films that were smart, and the money has given me the freedom to do small budget films and theatre that I’ve felt passionately about. An example is this movie Broken, which is a kind of version of To Kill A Mockingbird transposed to contemporary London. It’s a tiny, tiny budget film, and I’m just so proud of it. It’s such an emotionally brave piece of film-making.”Another example is Misterman, a one-man play that he performed earlier this year in Ireland, Brooklyn and London. Written by Enda Walsh, who got him started in Disco Pigs, and has become a close friend, it required him to play seven different characters imagined by the main character, and earned him the best reviews of his entire career. “It was incredibly exhausting and incredibly satisfying. Sometimes I was doing two performances a day. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired, or so happy. It was very pure. It was all about the work. The commerce aspect was tiny, compared to when you make a film, and there was none of the waiting around.”

The waiter sets down two beautifully presented plates, one of sashimi and one of beef, and pours me a particularly delicious glass of Bordeaux. Seeing the expression of delight on my face when I taste the wine, Cillian says, “You know what? I’ll have a glass as well then. I do like my red wine.” Then the conversation collapses into silence, grunts,and occasional exclamations, as our chopsticks deliver one morsel of culinary artistry after another into our mouths. This restaurant, 15 East, was recently named one of the best in New York, and for both of us, it’s one of the best meals of our lives. “Absolutely sensational,” says Cillian, who is finding no problem at all drinking red wine with sushi.

When the plates are empty, I ask him what it feels like to become a character. Is it a genuine transformation, or it just a matter of dressing up and pretending to be someone else? “It’s not always the same,” he says. “Some characters are just a slight adjustment, and some are a great distance away from you. I like to do research. I was playing a professional debunker in this movie Red Lights about the supernatural, so I went and hung out with physicists and professional sceptics and magicians, to understand that community. Actors tend to know a lot superficially about a great deal of things.”

I press him again: what does it feel like when you’re in character? “It’s most satisfying on the stage,” he says. “If it reaches the point of being transcendent, where you’re not actually conscious of being on stage performing, because you’re only aware of the character and his world and his needs, well, that’s what you’re always aiming for, that’s the moment that theatre people are always chasing. It’s the ultimate rush, if you will, for an actor, when the self disappears completely.”

One glass of Bordeaux leads to another. The waiter asks if we want dessert, and Cillian says no thanks, and I order something called a Shiratama parfait of red beans, matcha jelly and green tea ice cream.When it arrives, it is multi-coloured and visually spectacular with many more ingredients, and Cillian says, “Wow, look at that. My goodness, I might have to get a spoon of that.”

We both dig in, exploring an extraordinary combination of flavours and textures, with gums, jellies, brioche, red bean paste and more. “Oh man, what’s that green stuff?” he says, mining the lower layers now. “I have no idea what that is. It’s got that gummy vibe going on again. Fecking amazing.”

With a drop more wine, Cillian gets talking with great enthusiasm about books and music. Have I read the Irish writer John Banville, one of his favourites? Do I know the seminal jazz album Bill Evans Live At the Village Vanguard? Cillian found it recently on vinyl, being a great admirer of Bill Evan’s understated piano playing, and firmly convinced that vinyl is still the best way to listen to music. He loves Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart, Van Morrison, Jack White, and the Irish writers Pat McCabe, Sebastian Barry and the late, great, mindbending Flann O’Brien. Cillian is signed up for the film version of O’Brien’s satirical postmodern comedy At-Swim-Two-Birds, along with Gabriel Byrne, Colin Farrell and Michael Fassbender, and he hopes it will go into production soon.

“I’m also hoping to do some telly,” he says. “The smart mid-budget movie, which has been my bread and butter, has been squeezed out quite a bit. People are very reluctant to take a chance on a smart $17 million movie. They’d much rather throw everything into a dumb $250 million movie. But you don’t find that in TV where the writing just gets better and better, and you’ve the opportunity to develop a character over many hours.”

When you’re interviewing an actor, it’s always difficult to know if you’re witnessing a performance or the real person, but I get the distinct impression that Cillian Murphy is not only a nice guy, but maybe even happy and fulfilled. Is this true? “Well, the insecurity is always there,” he says. “It’s a necessary aspect of being an actor, or a writer for that matter. You have to have that insecurity. I used to feel like a failed musician pretending to be an actor, but that’s less of a worry now. I’ve found my form, I’ve found the right outlet for my impulse to create, and yes, I’m pretty happy. I don’t believe you have to be a tortured person in order to make great art. It needn’t always come from a place of pain, although there seems to be a romantic view of that.”

When he was a boy, all he wanted to do was hang around with artists and creative people, but he was stuck in a school in Cork where rugby and academia were the only things people seemed to care about. “Now, weirdly, I’ve found myself in a position where all my friends are artists. It’s a good place to be, I think, and that’s a real source of happiness, especially when we collaborate on stuff.”His ambitions for the future are very simple. In theatre, film or television, in collaboration with the best writers and directors, he wants to make great art, and keep on making it. “I can’t remember which director said it, but he said it takes 30 years to make a good actor,” he says.

“Longevity matters. I’m 16 years in, just over the hump, and when I’m 50 I should know if I’ve mastered my trade, or failed gloriously.”When the dessert and Bordeaux are finished, I ask for the bill, and the waiter brings it with two complementary glasses of dessert wine and a tray of petit fours. “I’m a big fan of your work,” he says to Cillian.

“I’m a big fan of your restaurant,” says Cillian. “How fantastic. What a meal. I wish all interviews could be like this.”As we walk out pleasantly buzzed into the bright furnace of a New York summer afternoon, I notice that Cillian doesn’t appear to have a mobile phone. “I left it in a taxi yesterday,” he says.

“Within half an hour, someone had called my wife and made arrangements to return it. I’m going to pick it up now before I go to the airport. It gives you faith, man. My publicist has lost two wallets and a phone here, and gotten them all back, with none of the money missing. It’s not something people expect from New York, but there you have it.”

Then I see the waiter from 15 East running down the street towards us, and I wonder if he’s going to ask Cillian for an autograph. But no, by odd coincidence, the waiter is holding my mobile phone, which I must have left in the restaurant. “You see what I mean?” says Cillian. “It gives you faith. Alright, best of luck, and I’ll be off now.”

#Cillian Murphy #Interview

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