#I don’t know about cillian | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

willsdreamgirl · 9 months

Text

“morning mr. shelby.” — tommy shelby x reader ⋆｡˚

tommy shelby x fem!reader

you meet tommy as a nurse during the war, but happens when he realizes that he’s known you all along? (loosely based around some s1 plot points, but all set before the war)

18+ minors dni please! angst, fluff and smut

cw: mentions of war, shooting, stabbing, suturing, ptsd, friends to lovers, eventual smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), slight breeding kink

word count: 5.4k+ (sorry lmao)

a/n: ahh first fic alert!! i’m so excited for you guys to read this! don’t be a ghost reader and lmk if you want to be added to my tag list for future tommy/cillian stuff!! 💌

you met tommy shelby during the war. he was a soldier, you were a wartime nurse. before the war, you had obviously heard of him. tommy shelby, leader of the fucking peaky blinders. arrogant bastards.

you lived in small heath, and everyday you’d pass him on the street. and everyday, you’d smile and say, “morning, mr. shelby.” and everyday, he would barely look up at you. you were sure he wasn’t even aware of your existence. prick.

your parents had always told you to stay away from the shelby boys. your dad would say that “they’re dangerous and make whores out of innocent girls” and your mum would make some comment about “the shelby men and their stupid cocks and their stupid judgements”.

they were the most intimidating people in all of small heath, possibly in all of birmingham. truth be told, there was a certain charm to them that you couldn’t shake off. well, to one of them. tommy shelby. you couldn’t tell if it was because he was your age, or because he was powerful and strong, or simply because he was strictly off limits. or because of his piercing blue eyes.

everyone in small heath knew tommy. but you knew tommy. he didn’t know you, though. you could tell if was him by the way he exhaled or by the sound of his footsteps or by the way he held a cigarette in his hand, the peaked cap on his head, a hand in his coat pocket. you despised tommy shelby, but god, was he fucking irresistible.

when men were drafted for the war in france, it was common sense that they’d need someone to tend to their cuts and bruises. you’d decided to volunteer, and after a couple weeks of training, you were right there, in the field. practicing on dolls and bags of rice and flour was nothing compared to what you saw. what you heard.

your first day in france was… eventful, to say the least. some commander had led you to the medical tent, and you were welcomed by the screams of hurt soldiers, blood and panic. you were immediately assigned to a patient, who’d been shot in the chest. you tried your best, did everything you could have, but ultimately, he had just lost too much blood. you didn’t sleep that night, haunted by the bloodshed, by the pleas of the soldier to keep him alive, by the feeling of someone else’s blood on your hands. over time, however, you grew accustomed to having your pristine white uniform soiled with blood and mud.

a month or so after you’d started, you heard shouts outside the tent. “help! someone HELP, for FUCK’s SAKE!” this was a regular occurrence, but the voice the shouts came from didn’t sound wounded. you felt an instinctual need to go see what it was.

what you saw, though, was something you never expected to see. tommy shelby, with a comrade’s head in his lap, putting pressure on a wound in his shoulder. without hesitating, you helped tommy drag the soldier to a vacant bed in the tent. “what happened?” you asked, hurriedly. tommy was visibly panicked. “i- he- um, he got st-stabbed by… one of the germans… his name’s danny- daniel.” you looked in tommy’s eyes, trying to give him some semblance of comfort. “he’ll be okay.” you applied pressure on the wound, and luckily, the blood stopped flowing soon. you cleaned the wound up and looked to tommy. “i’m gonna have to disinfect the wound with alcohol, you might want to hold daniel down for this.” daniel was still delirious from the blood loss, but the pain would be excruciating. tommy braced himself. his hands firmly holding down daniel’s. you nodded before tipping the bottle over on the wound. danny thrashed around on the bed, screaming and cursing, struggling against tommy’s hold. you heard his voice over danny’s. “you’re alright, lad! y’er gonna be fine!”

tommy sat by his friend’s bedside as he came to. you tended to other patients in the meantime but eventually went over to talk to him. “i want to keep him here for the night, mr. shelby. make sure there’s no infection.” he looked at you, surprised you knew him. “you know who i am?” “of course i do, all of small heath knows you. what i didn’t expect was to have a run-in with you, here in france.” he scoffed at his own misery and spoke. “you don’t belong here. you should be home.” you rolled your eyes, even in his state, he managed to be cocky. “if i wasn’t here today, mr. shelby, who would save danny?” that seemed to shut him up. he was about to speak, before you heard your name from the other side of the tent. “y/n, we need you!” after having helped a soldier who looked like he had been mauled, you looked out to see it was nightfall, and tommy had left.

a couple days later, at about noon, john shelby, the youngest of the shelby brothers walked in, clutching his arm tightly. “do you need help, mr. shelby?” you called out. “yes, i-i’ve been shot.” he all but whispered. you rushed over with a tray of distilled alcohol, forceps and bandages. after an afternoon of agony and pain, you had finally managed to pull out the bullet form his arm, john’s face a clear representation of his relief. “oh my god love, if we were home, i’d marry you right now.” you laughed at the proposition. “mr. shelby, i think you’re still a bit delirious from the anaesthesia. besides, i’m your brother’s age.” he looked shocked. “what, you’re arthur’s age? really?? you look nothing like that old prick.” you couldn’t help but laugh yet again. “i’m not that old, jesus. i’m tommy’s age.” he sighed. “marry him then. lord knows he needs a girl.” you giggled as you gathered your things and walked away. “you amuse me far too much, mr. shelby.”

it felt like ages had passed before you saw tommy again. your back was towards the tent entrance but you knew who had walked in. his breath trembled and his footsteps felt a bit unsteady, but it was undoubtedly him. you waited to turn until he called out your name. “y/n, is it?” you turned around, to find his face and shirt covered in blood. “mr. shelby! what happened?” you rushed over to him, taking his hand and sitting his down on a bed. “i- i… killed a man today, y/n.” he looked down, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. you didn’t respond, simply got up and grabbed a stitching kit and a bowl of warm water. “is all this blood yours?” was your first question. “no. most of it is his.” you sighed and searched his face to find a cut on his cheekbone, the source of his own bleeding. “i’m wiping away the blood now, okay?” tommy gulped and nodded, his eyes still trained on the ground. “mr. shelby, i want you to look at me.” it was as if he didn’t hear you. you spoke again, softer yet more authoritative this time. “tommy. look at me.” he finally brought himself to look into your eyes. in his eyes, you saw guilt, regret and fear. in yours, he saw compassion, love and a warmth that could engulf all his pain. “good.” you whispered. you wrung out a washcloth and began wiping the blood away from his face, using your other hand to hold his chin in place. his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist, in an attempt to ground himself. you didn’t say anything, but your eyes told him that you didn’t mind. in that moment, you saw a different version of tommy shelby. you didn’t see ‘tommy, the criminal’, ‘tommy, the gangster’ or ‘tommy, the womanizer’. you saw tommy, a good man, an honest man. you felt his arms tighten around your waist as you pulled your hands away from his face, as if he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air. “tommy.” you whispered. “i’m gonna have to stich that wound up. it might hurt.” but he didn’t mind pain, not if you were the one inflicting it. “okay.” he spoke, his voice deep. he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs, the pain making him hum. “sorry, almost done.” you finished the last stitch. “there. you’re all fixed.” tommy held you like that, his hands around your waist, icy blue eyes staring into yours. your arms rested on his shoulders and you leaned down to whisper to him. “tommy. people are staring.” “so? let them.” eventually, he reluctantly pulled away from you. “it’s time for dinner, and then lights out.” he smiled as he spoke, and slowly exited the tent, catching a glimpse of you as he left.

needless to say, you only grew closer over the next few weeks. you were inseparable. whenever tommy had free time, he’d make his way to the familiar tent, and talk to you. it was wartime. you were left hurt and traumatized and so was he, but you both found solace in each other’s company. you told him how you knew him, and how you’d wish him good morning every day, only to receive complete silence from him each time. he chuckled and apologized. he told you about the peaky blinders, what they did, how they ran their business. you bonded over your shared hunger for knowledge and stories. you told him everything you knew about art, history and literature; and he told you stories of fighting gangs in the streets and stealing contraband. his stories were always more thrilling than yours. you’d try to set each other up with people for fun. you’d introduce him to every nurse, telling them how he was fighting for his country, and of course, they fell prey to his charming eyes and dashing smile. they’d ask what he did back home, and as soon as you said the words ‘gangster’, they’d run in the opposite direction. he’d done the same for you. introduced you to other soldiers, and when you spoke to them, about art and literature, they’d call you ‘unladylike’ or ‘too ambitious for a man’. you both secretly liked it this way, it was like you were his and he was yours.

when he became sergeant major, you both celebrated together. he’d brought you a bottle of whiskey, and you spent the night, talking and giggling drunkenly. but soon, he was assigned to be a sapper and dig tunnels. you both knew that the germans were going to dig their own tunnels, and at some unfortunate point, the tunnels would converge. both of you realized the danger it held, but he had to do it. you tried to talk him out of it, though. “tommy, please!” “y/n, calm down.” “goddamn it tommy, think! you’re gonna get yourself killed! what the fuck are you doing?” “i’ll be alright.” “no, you won’t! what if you get hurt? what if they shoot at you, huh? i won’t be there underground to make sure you’re okay!” “y/n, i have to serve my country. i have to do this.” “tommy. i’m begging you, don’t do this.” he simply sighed and kissed your forehead and held your face in his hands. you held tightly onto his wrists as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “shhh, i’ll be alright. in fact, i’ll write you.” you seemed to calm down at the idea of him writing you. at least you’d be updated on his condition.

the morning he went down to the tunnels, he came to see you. you were sorting gauze and bandages when you felt his presence near you. you turned around and ran to hug him. he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. you could feel tears brimming your eyes. neither of you knew why you felt like this. you were just friends, right? “tommy michael shelby, i swear to god if you die, i’ll kill you myself.” you heard him chuckle. he took a step back and caressed your cheek. “you take care, darling.” you wished he wouldn’t leave, but in your heart, you knew he had to. a few hours after, you found a letter tucked under a book on your desk. you curiously pulled it out and opened it.

dearest y/n,

i know how much you hate that i’m going to be a sapper now. i want you to know, no matter what happens down there, i care for you, and i love you, unconditionally. i’ve loved you since the day i first met you. i can’t believe i was looking for love in whores and prostitutes when the love of my fucking life was saying the sweetest good morning to me every morning. i’ll protect myself, and i want you to protect yourself too since i can’t do that for the time being. if we survive this wretched war, i want to take you home, ask your father for your hand and marry you, sweetheart. you take care of yourself, alright?

all my love,

tommy shelby.

you couldn’t help but gasp at what you read. he loved you. tommy shelby loved you. the same tommy shelby that was too arrogant to say a word to you, the same tommy shelby that your parents told you to stay away from, the same tommy shelby was head over heels for you. you immediately looked for a piece of paper, a pen and some ink. you wrote a letter back and sent it with one of the workers heading down to the tunnels. you didn’t know what it was like down there, but you hoped your letters would keep him sane. meanwhile, tommy received your letter and opened it with the same enthusiasm you showed his letter. however, he was also filled with nervous energy. he had confessed his love for you, which was so incredibly out of character for him, but with shaky hands, he proceeded to open the letter.

dearest tommy,

to say that your letter was shocking would be an understatement. i never knew you felt this way for me. like i’ve told you on several occasions, my parents always told me to stay away from ‘your kind’ and as a good catholic girl, i obeyed them. but tommy, in these few months, i’ve seen a side of you i can’t ever forget. i love you too tommy, the real you. the honest, raw, genuine tommy that i get to see on late nights and in random moments on busy days. i’d love to marry you, just make it out alive of that damn tunnel, you prick.

only yours,

y/n.

tommy felt his eyes welling up as he read the words you had penned on the paper. it had been so long since he’d seen you, or heard your voice. he wanted you. he needed you. to keep him stable and sane. as the days passed, your and tommy’s letter exchange became more and more frequent, and you felt like even if you were in this goddamned lawless land of blood and chaos, you had tommy. and he was all you needed.

that was, until the letters slowed down. you kept writing him, but to no avail. he hadn’t sent you a letter in days, or weeks, you weren’t sure anymore. you’d almost lost hope, and spent entire nights grieving him. trying to remember the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the smell of his cologne. you hadn’t heard his breath or felt his footsteps in a long time. the pain was almost unbearable, and some days felt like decades. but the only thought that kept you going was that you saw tommy in all the wounded soldiers you treated. they were someone’s tommy. and they needed to get home alive.

4 months. 4 whole months since you heard from tommy. you were convinced he was dead now. you spent your days bandaging and stitching wounds, yet you could never fix the wound tommy left in your heart. it was one of the hottest afternoons, the french sun blazing unmercifully. you were insanely busy with patients today, the war was almost ending, and the soldiers needed to be fixed up before they could go home. yet, no sign of tommy. you sighed, cursing yourself for holding out hope now for someone who would not return.

“can i have a nurse here?” you could recognize that damn voice anywhere. the deep voice that filled your ears, smooth like honey, you’d recognize that voice at the end of the world. you turned around. tommy. “hi, love.” he smiled. but his smile quickly changed into a frown when he saw your sobs. you took him to a quieter corner of the tent. you stepped closer to him. he went to put his arms around you. you slapped him across the face. “where. the FUCK were you, thomas michael shelby?!” he was incredibly confused. “l- love, what?” “i thought YOU DIED, YOU BASTARD. where were you?” the time you spent apart had changed you, and from his response, you could tell it clearly changed him. “i was TRYING to fucking STAY ALIVE for YOU.” he raised his voice at you. he never raised his voice. neither of you spoke for a while and tension filled the air between the two of you. “i should leave.” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. he left, and you let him.

after a few weeks, news broke that britain had won the war, and everyone went home. five years had passed since you last saw the familiar streets of small heath, and you were no longer a girl, but a woman. a woman who needed to get a job to survive in this city. you walked around and saw a flyer on the doors of the garrison. ‘BARMAID NEEDED.’ you walked in to find harry. he looked up pleasantly surprised. “y/n! haven’t seen you in a while, eh? what can i do you for?” “i’m here to get the barmaid job, harry.” he sighed.” y/n, this job isn’t suitable for a girl like you. these men, they’ve just come back from war, they haven’t seen a girl, let alone a pretty one like yourself, in ages. they’ll have you up against a wall within the first hour of your shift.” you looked at him desperately. “harry, please. i need this job, otherwise i’ll be out on the streets, which are surely worse than this pub. i was a nurse in france, i’ve dealt with these men. please?” he sighed again before nodding. “alright then, you start tomorrow.”

your first shift consisted of the usual alcoholics, men with ptsd, everything that was to be expected after a war. you hear the bells at the door ring as the familiar footsteps walk closer to the bar. without turning around, you ask, “what do you want?” he replies, “whiskey, scotc- y/n?” you finally turn around at the sound of your name falling from his lips. “yes, mr. shelby. so, scotch? on the house right?” he leans over so that just the two of you can hear. “don’t mr. shelby me. come on, love, talk to me.” “i have nothing to talk to you about.” as you poured him a glass of whiskey, he held your wrist assertively. “y/n. come.” you rolled your eyes and went to the shelby’s private booth. “what is it that you want, tommy?” “what the fuck do you mean ‘what do i want’? you, i want YOU. i need you. did ya lose your fucking mind in france like danny whiz-bang?” you felt your bottom lip trembling and your throat choking up. “i… i thought y- you were fucking dead. i mourned you. for MONTHS. i grieved over the death of the love of my life. of my future husband. of my future children that i’d have with him. and then, just as i’m making my peace with it, YOU have the fucking audacity to show up? you have some bloody nerve, tommy shelby.” the look in his eyes softened as he took a step closer to you. “no. don’t you dare come any closer to me, tommy, i’ll kill you.” you said, holding up the bottle of whiskey as a weapon. he embraced you, holding you tightly, his fingers stroking your hair. you resisted the hug and tried to push him away, only to find his grip on you getting tighter. “g- get away… from me, p- please… i- just” your voice came out muffled between sobs. tommy felt hot tears rolling down his own cheeks. “shhh, sweetheart. i’m okay, eh? i’m fine. i’m here, with you.” you dropped the bottle you were holding and it shattered into a million pieces on the ground. you stood there in his arms, crying for what felt like an eternity. you finally pulled away from him, and he wiped your tears with his thumbs. you laughed, but then lightly slapped his arm. “you scare me like that again, tommy, i swear i’ll kill ya.” “i’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead, and you rested your forehead against his. he tentatively closed the gap between your lips and his, and you pulled him by the collar and kissed him with enough force to make him trip and fall. he managed to stay steady and kissed you back with equal fervour. he spoke between kisses. “i *kiss* spent *kiss* every *kiss* second *kiss* thinking *kiss* of you.” you giggled. “i missed you too, tommy.”

he told harry that you’d be leaving the bar early that day, and dragged you out the bar while holding your hand, a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. “the great thomas shelby isn’t embarrassed to have a barmaid as his girlfriend?” you giggled. “never. and those who think i should be embarrassed can suck me cock.” he spoke proudly. he opened the car door for you, and you sat inside and waited for him to turn the ignition on. “where are we going, tommy?” “i want you to meet my family, love.” during the countless hours you spent together chatting, he told you about his family’s idiosyncrasies and stories about them. how arthur needed to be protected the most during fights because he was just as likely to hurt himself as he was to hurt someone else, how aunty pol’s instincts about love were never wrong, how john once fell in love with a prostitute and everyone laughed at him, how ada was the most rebellious and married a communist (who happened to be in of his best mates), and how finn always pretended to act like tommy, doing whatever his big brother did. you were excited to meet them of course, but anxious. they would be your family one day too.

he held your hand as he brought you in, everyone sitting around a table waiting for him. “does everyone just sit together like this?” you asked. “uh, no i called a family meeting for 3 pm.” tommy replied simply. “how did you know you’d be able to have me here by 3?” he winked at you. “i have my ways. and i know how much you love me.” he spoke in a singsong voice. you rolled your eyes at his schoolboy behaviour and waited for him to speak. “shelby’s, this is my girlfriend and soon to be fiancé, y/n.” he held his arm around your waist proudly, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. you recognized arthur and john immediately from your time in the war. you assumed that the older woman was aunt polly, and the younger with the baby in her arms would be ada, leaving the youngest member of the family, finn. john came up to talk to you first, while tommy spoke with polly. “you know i didn’t really mean the ‘marry tommy’ thing?” you laughed as you replied, “i didn’t either, but fate works in weird ways, eh?” he agreed with you before talking to tommy. arthur was the next one to see you. “you and tommy, eh? if it wasn’t for the war, you two would probably never have met. i s’pose war isn’t all bad then.” “perhaps you’re right. i did find your brother to be arrogant before the war.” “that he is, y/n. that he is.” both of you looked over at him, engaged in conversation with everyone else. you fussed over the baby in ada’s arms. “awww, he’s precious! what’s his name?” “karl, after karl marx.” you shot her a look. “it’s unconventional, i know. but freddie really wanted it.” “it’s lovely.” finn rushed over to you and kissed your hand. you gushed exaggeratedly. “what a gentleman you are, finn!” “if tommy wasn’t here, you’d be my girlfriend, miss y/n.” you laughed at his childishness and ruffled his hair. “sure i would, finn.” the only person you hadn’t spoken to yet was aunt polly, arguably the most intimidating person of the family. “i have one question for you, y/n. how you answer it will determine if you’re fit for being a shelby. how do you think i kept this business up and running during the war?” you felt put on the spot but tried your best to answer. “um, well, to be quite frank, i’ve believed that women are better at business anyway. we know how to settle deals with whiskey and not fists or guns. and you seem like twice the man than most men i know anyway.” her lips twitched up into a smile as she looked to tommy. “oh, i like her already.” he held your hand in hers, and addressed tommy. “she seems like a lovely girl, do not fuck this up tommy.” tommy shook his head and laughed. “i’ll try, pol. i’ll try.”

you ate dinner with the shelby’s before you headed up to his house. “you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” he asked for the hundredth time that night. “no tommy, i’m perfectly content spending the night with you. unless you’d like me to leave?” you questioned. “no no, stay, please!” he said, almost pleadingly. you looked around his bedroom when you reached his home. it was obviously a house, but it didn’t feel like a home. you frowned at your observation. “what’s wrong, y/n?” “this house isn’t a home yet, tommy.” “that’s because i want my first home to be with you. with our children. and as far as i’m concerned, you are my home.”

“care to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand. you looked at the gramophone in the corner. “that doesn’t look like it works, love.” you placed your hand in his. “so what? we can dance without music.” he said, holding your waist close to him, your hand on his shoulder. you leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you dancing in the silence, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. “kiss me, tommy.” you whispered. he obeyed probably for the first time in his life and kissed your soft lips.

things escalated and you were now on tommy’s bed, tracing the sun tattoo on his chest, with him on top of you. “fuck me, tommy, please.” “your cunt wants this cock?” he growled. you moaned in his ear. “fuck, yes tommy, make me yours.” he stretched you out in the most blissful way. of course, you had used your fingers before, but nothing could replace the feeling of his cock. “god, please!” you moaned out, words slowly turning into incoherent sounds. tommy chuckled. “god can’t hear you now, sweetheart. not here.” he pistoned his hips into you just right and it wasn’t long before he found the spot inside you that made you scream. “t- tommy fuck! right there, please don’t stop!” “i wouldn’t dream of stopping, darling. my girl, so pretty all spread out for me. take it, love. take that cock.” the feeling of your impending orgasm coursed through your entire body, making you writhe in pleasure. “god, i’m so close tommy!” “good fucking girl.” his hand reached down to rub circles on your clit while he fucked you so good. “oh god, tommy, i’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow…” “that’s the plan, sweetheart.” he spoke as he kissed hickeys on your neck, matching the ones you’d given him earlier. “come on love, make a mess on my cock.” as soon as he said that, you felt yourself falling apart, the tight band in your stomach snapping, uncontrollable moans of his name falling from your lips. “thank you tommy, thank you so much.” you moaned, drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you. “such an angel. who do you belong to, sweets?” he said, still pounding your cunt. “y- you, tommy. i belong to you!” “that’s right, sweetheart.” he whispered in your ear, “i love you, darling.” you moaned as you felt your second orgasm approaching. “tommy, fuck! i- i love you too!” “god i’m gonna cum inside you! you’d like that, eh? me getting you pregnant, all nice and round with my baby?” you felt your orgasm pulsing through you at his words. “yes, tommy! fill my womb up, please! i need it!” you heard tommy’s loud moans as he came inside you. “oh, such a good girl. took my cock so well, love.” tommy stayed on top of you for a while, his cock still inside you. “i’ve wanted to do that for five fucking years.” he spoke, voice muffled since his head was buried between your tits. you laughed, but the laughs quickly turned to moans as your sensitive cunt felt friction from tommy’s cock rubbing up against its walls. he pulled out of you slowly, watching his seed spill out of you. he eventually got up to get a warm washcloth and a glass of water for you. you drank the water as he cleaned you and himself up and pulled you into his chest. you pulled the covers over both of you, feeling your body flush against his. “that was amazing tommy, thank you.” “the pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead.

ever since tommy came back from france, he had these recurring nightmares every night. of his time in the tunnels. the germans. his comrades. how he had to kill people with his bare hands. he could still hear the shovels digging the tunnels when he closed his eyes. when he was with you though, he could finally fall asleep. or so he thought.

you were awoken in the middle of the night by the sounds of a gasping tommy, suddenly sitting up. you felt groggy for a moment, having just woken up, but quickly sprung into action. you sat next to him, rubbing his back. “tommy, what’s wrong?” he didn’t speak. but he didn’t need to. you’d seen enough cases of ptsd from your time in the war to know what was happening to him. “you still see it, eh?” he only nodded. you laid back down and pulled him into your chest. he protested. “what are y-” “shut up.” you could tell, he was still a bit frantic, his breath still heavy. you spoke to him in a soft tone and you played with his fingers, his head on your chest. “listen to me. listen to the sound of my voice. feel my body against yours. you are home. you are safe. the war is over. the nightmares are just parts of your mind trying to scare you. but you’re stronger than that, eh? i’m here with you, and you don’t need to be scared. alright? i’m here with you, always.” he hummed, heavy eyelids slowly closing shut. being able to smell the scent of your perfume helped ground him. “good job, tommy. now sleep. i’ll be here with you when you wake up.” you managed to get him to go to sleep, but somehow convinced your mind to let you sleep light enough that if tommy were to have another nightmare, you’d be up immediately. fortunately, he didn’t wake up during the night.

he woke up to the sight of a sleeping you, the sun rays hitting you just right. he swore he could look at you forever. you felt his gaze on you and slowly opened your eyes. “how’d you sleep?” you asked. “like i hadn’t slept in years.” he replied.

“morning, mr. shelby.” you wished him, as you did, every day before the war. except this time, you were in his arms, in his bed. you kissed his lips softly. except this time, he finally wished you back.

“mornin’, sweetheart.”

3K notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 8 months

Text

𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 | boyfriend's dad!cillian murphy x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | for some reason, your first instinct after the breakup was to talk to his parents; maybe because you'd come sort of uniquely close to them, for a relatively short relationship. you might not have gone to their house if you'd known you'd find mr. murphy there alone...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ ONLY!! unprotected sex, creampie, oral m and f receiving), age gap (reader's age unspecified, cillian is 45+), hurt/comfort (but, you know, sexual comfort), infidelity, slight manipulation/coercion since the reader is very vulnerable at the time, somewhat inexperienced reader, degradation and praise, a little bit of breathplay, hair pulling, slight dacryphilia?, reader is slightly implied to be an immigrant/foreigner

note: yes I use his real name but this is just fiction and not meant to have anything to do with the real cillian murphy or his life/family so please keep that in mind!

He had a smile on his face as he opened the door and greeted you, but it fell instantly when he saw you biting down on your quivering lip, looking down to hide how red and watery your eyes were.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, voice heavy with concern as he reached out and rubbed your shoulder. "Oh, god— come in, come in— what's going on?"

He ushered you into the house, shutting the door behind you and wrapping his arm around you as you sniffled. "I-I'm sorry—" you began instantly. “I thought— I don’t know why I even came here…”

But, actually, you sort of did. You’d been wanting to talk to Cillian’s wife, hoping for some motherly advice, until he answered the door and you abruptly remembered she was in England on business for a week or something. And you couldn’t exactly show up on somebody’s doorstep crying and say ‘oh, sorry, I thought your wife would be home— I’ll come back in a few days’.

You weren’t disappointed by running into him instead, really, you just felt a little weirder about it. The two of you had never actually been alone before.

"Don't apologise," he soothed, "it's okay, just tell me what's happened. Are you alright?"

"Yeah," you sighed, trying to compose yourself a bit as he guided you to sit on the couch with him. "Yeah, I'm okay, I just... um, well, it's sort of stupid—"

"I'm sure it's not," he offered with a small laugh, "if it's got you this worked up."

"We, um... I think we broke up?"

"What?" he breathed, knitting his eyebrows together— he cared more than you expected... but it sort of made sense, Mr. Murphy had always made you feel welcome here. Mrs. Murphy too, maybe ina different way. Yes, it's bizarre to respond to being dumped by going to visit the guy's parents, you needed a sort of... mature, familial presence right now while you were so far from your own.

You took him through the whole drama as efficiently as possible, trying to regulate your crying so he could actually attempt to make out what you were saying. He listened thoughtfully, perhaps with too much attention compared to what you expected— after all, this was stupid college drama and he was so much more mature than all that. Still, you appreciated a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.

"And, uh, that's how he ended it," you finished with a sigh, sniffling as you recalled the heartbreaking conversation. "He basically told me that he's too young to be stuck with one person, and he needs to 'explore his options'..."

"Then he's an idiot," Cillian groaned, "and I hate to say that about my own son— but he's a fuckin' idiot."

"Well," you mumbled, "I don't know— I thought maybe he had a point. I mean, we're pretty young..."

"But look at you, honey," he offered pityingly, "you can't tell me this is what you wanted."

"No, but—"

"And yes, you're young," he added, "but not too young— not if it's real."

You bit your lip to stop it from shaking any more, and he cooed at you gently as he reached up to rub your shoulder.

“Poor girl,” he breathed. “Honestly, I always… well, maybe I shouldn’t say it now…”

You looked up at him expectantly, and he smiled nervously as he glanced away.

“Well… I guess I always thought that you could do better,” he admitted with a soft laugh, “but, you know, I didn’t want to say anything, of course. He was lucky to have you, and I just hoped he would treat you right, but…”

“I thought I was the lucky one,” you replied with a thin smile and another little sniffle. “He could be really sweet, you know— he used to be. And I always thought he was, uh, sort of… you know, out of my league.”

“Oh, honey, no,” Cillian frowned, moving his hand up to your face and holding your cheek, wiping a small tear away with his thumb. “You’re gorgeous.”

You laughed awkwardly, not sure what to think— or how to think— with him looking at you like that. “I… I don’t know, you’re sweet, but—”

“No, really,” he assured, and only when you met his gaze did you realise how close he was. You wouldn’t call it too close, only because it didn’t bother you like you knew it should. “You’re so beautiful.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing actually came out… there was nothing to say. He was coming closer, you knew it, and you wanted to reach up to stop him just as much as you wanted to shut your eyes and give into it. You ended up sort of splitting the difference: you rested your hands on his shoulders, but didn’t push him away, and gasped slightly just before he kissed you. Even a second of resistance could’ve given you some plausible deniability, but no, you fluttered your eyes shut and kissed him back; it didn’t help that you could feel how warm and strong he was through the t-shirt, holding on tighter to his shoulders with a hum.

His hands wandered to your waist, pulling you into him— and you were like putty, embarrassingly enough. With him kissing you like that, you really couldn’t do anything but let him pull you around wherever he wanted. His lips were soft and gentle, his tongue teased you so carefully, and he even sighed against your skin in the sweetest way… you were totally helpless already.

Sure, some part of you knew how fucking bizarre this was— that you were kissing Mr. Murphy, your boyfriend’s dad— well… ex-boyfriend’s. You weren’t blind, you noticed how attractive he was when you met him, but you’d managed to successfully ignore it since then. It made sense, after all, since the first thing you’d noticed about your boyfriend was his good looks… but Mr. Murphy was handsome in a totally different way. Strong and broad— not especially massive or anything, still a lean guy— with thin streaks of grey in his hair, a patient sort of smile, subtle wrinkles around his eyes that added a sense of wisdom to his expression… really, he was a bit more of your type. But that was something you had forced yourself not to acknowledge— until now.

You sat up slightly, holding onto his neck, breathing in sharply through your nose as you kissed him back a little harder. You could feel him smiling— god, even just that made you feel so desperate— and he even moaned ever-so-quietly when you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed against your lips, breaking away just enough to make you open your eyes— his lashes seemed especially long as he looked down at your legs curled up on the couch (and his hands petting them slowly. “You haven’t been treated properly for a long time, have you?”

You whined in the back of your throat involuntarily as you nodded— how could he see right through you like that? It wasn’t like it was bad with your ex, it was just… not good. Not enough. You wanted to feel wanted, not used— not a means to an end.

“Will you let me?” he asked softly, breathing beside your ear on his way in to kiss your neck. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close, head falling back to give him as much of you as he wanted. His tongue was fucking fiendish, the way he used it to tickle along your pulse, the sharpness of his teeth making you jolt only for him to soothe you with his plush lips.

“Yes,” you panted, “fuck— I, god, I can’t believe we’re doing this…”

He laughed a little. “I can,” he admitted. “All I could fucking think about since I met you…”

That surprised you— you’d never noticed anything that would’ve made you think he thought of you that way… but knowing that he, apparently, had made a shiver run up your spine.

He certainly hid it well, playing the part of the slightly-embarrassing dad and polite husband so well that you never would’ve known… oh god, his wife. You didn’t want to think of her now, yet the unavoidable memory stirred arousal alongside guilt in your gut. You had no idea you were this sort of person— but you weren’t really operating logically right now, anyway.

He held your face again as he pulled back, petting your cheek— it made you feel especially juvenile when he did that, holding your chin to examine you. This wasn’t really the ideal state for you to be looked at, in your opinion, with you having been crying all evening. But he looked amazed by you, even if it was just for a moment before he looked down at your body and smirked.

“Take this off,” he instructed, tugging at your shirt slightly. You thought it would’ve been a little more romantic if he helped you out of it, but it was alternatively a bit sexier that he was just going to sit back and watch you strip for him. It must have been his way of demonstrating his power over you, that you were just going to take it off and toss it aside without question. Which, of course, you did.

He smiled proudly at the sight, and before you could even get your bra off, he started to carefully tease you through it— fingers running around the edge, moving the straps off your shoulders, tickling up your sides as you shifted nervously on the couch.

“Look’t that,” he whispered proudly, and you took a second to realise that he was referring to your nipples getting hard enough to poke visibly through the fabric; you felt self-conscious all of a sudden, even if he was clearly enjoying what he was seeing. “So needy, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” you admitted, whining when he reached inside the cups and ran his fingers over your breasts— they usually weren’t so sensitive. “Fuck,” you breathed, shutting your eyes as a way to try to escape his gaze. “I… I need you.”

“Fuck, baby, don’t talk like that,” he groaned, “m’gonna try to take my time with you— how am I supposed to do that if you say such lovely things?”

His lips were on your neck again— and he was leaning you back, laying you down under him, tugging your shorts down with a bit more urgency than he’d had before.

When you were basically naked— or at least, your bra and panties pushed out of the way enough that he could see what he needed to— he purred at the sight, grinning as you hastily undressed yourself the rest of the way.

"Of course he couldn't appreciate this," Cillian sighed, baring his teeth just a bit. "Of course he couldn't appreciate a perfect fucking body like this— a perfect little pussy like this..."

You were about to open your mouth to say something, though you hadn't even decided yet what it would be, but only a low moan came out when he held your legs open and dove between them, humming as he lapped at your clit. You couldn't imagine why you were so sensitive, but your whole body was shaking already just from the gentlest motions of his tongue...

"Fuck," he said, muffled against your skin, before he pulled back enough to bite playfully on your thigh. "Fuck, darling, you taste delicious. Christ. You're too perfect..."

He devoured you again, exploring all over you with his tongue as your thighs kept instinctively clamping down on his head. He kept looking up at you through it all, even when you couldn't stand to meet his gaze and had to arch your back from the pleasure. "Fuck!" you yelped, grabbing tightly onto his hair. "Fuck, Mr. Murphy, I— oh, god..."

"He never made you come like this, did he?" Cillian realised with a groan, nearly growling when you shook your head. "Has anyone?"

"N-no," you shakily admitted, and he moaned around you as he suckled harder on your clit for a moment until you whined loudly.

"Oh, poor thing," he cooed, "how could anyone taste this sweet cunt of yours, and not want to spend hours between your legs?"

He didn’t need to spend hours, though— the taboo nature of the situation seemed to turn your body into overdrive, making you so sensitive and desperate… or maybe that was just the effect he had on you, but it was hard to say.

The point is, all too soon, you were shivering under him, back arching up off the couch, holding on tightly to his hair. He hummed approvingly, even moaning against you as he slid his tongue inside; he must have been able to feel you pulsing, moving closer and closer to the edge, because he shut his eyes tight and seemed to focus harder and pushing you further until you couldn’t take anymore.

“Fuck, fuck!” you sobbed, thighs shaking around his head; there really was no exploration to it, no teasing, he just went right in and expertly played you like he’d done this a thousand times. Maybe he had… but, obviously, he’d never done it to you. Were you that easy to solve?

Obviously, that question suddenly became the last thing on your mind as your orgasm wracked through you. He growled encouragingly, still keeping his pace, but you could barely hear it past the ringing in your ears— and your own cries of his name, of course.

He only broke away when your squirms turned into real avoidance: you could only take so much, especially with him suckling on your clit like that.

You were almost nervous to open your eyes again— and you were right, he looked so gorgeous between your legs, obviously smug with having just made you come, it was nearly criminal.

“Is it really that easy to make you come, honey?” he laughed, petting your legs sweetly as he pulled back, looking up at you with a proud grin. “That’s so fucking cute, baby…”

As he sat up again, wiping the slick off his mouth with the back of his hand, you got this weird, clingy feeling— wanting to chase him even just as he barely moved away.

But he’d sat up for a reason, and you started to realise it when you sat up, too, and noticed the thick bulge in his jeans.

"Why don't you show me what you can do, sweetheart?" he encouraged with a smile, opening his belt for you. "I'm sure you've learned a thing or two..."

Though you still felt terribly nervous about it, you leaned forward towards his lap. Would it be awful to admit your mouth watered when he freed his cock from his jeans and boxers, holding it out for you as a little bead of precum formed at the tip?

"Show me, baby," he whispered again, "and look up at me."

You nervously blinked up at him, meeting his gaze from his lap, as you wrapped your lips around his swollen head. He bit his lip right away and reached up to hold onto your hair, groaning as you swirled your tongue.

"Fuck," he smirked, "you're sort of a tease, aren't you?"

You weren't trying to be, really, but it didn't sound like he minded too much...

"Oh, fuck," he moaned deeply, making you pulse inside as he tilted his head back. "Fuck, baby, that's good— your mouth is so fucking warm..."

He gasped and panted as he held your head, guiding it to bob just a little faster than you had been moving. "Sweetheart," he choked, "you're so fucking good... fuck!"

The praise made your chest fill with warmth, even if there was still some part of your brain that was recovered enough from the orgasm to remember how horrible this all was. It was horrible, but perfect— and feeling his cock throb against your tongue was perfect, too.

You’d never been told you were so good at this before, but he kept moaning and petting your head encouragingly, whispering the most wonderful and filthy things. “Just like that, honey,” he cooed, “mm— pretty thing… knew that mouth of yours would feel so fuckin’ good… just keep sucking my cock, sweetheart.”

That you did— harder and faster, stroking what your mouth couldn’t fit, moaning softly around him. As you tried to take it deeper, desperate to please him, you gagged on his thick head.

“God, it’s so cute when you choke on it, baby,” he chuckled. “Do it again.”

This time it was almost too much, but he held your head down and groaned deeply. It would’ve bothered you more— not being able to breathe— if he didn’t sound so sexy right then…

Thankfully, he pulled you off just in time, making you yelp as he held you by your hair— only to kiss you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Moaning, you melted into his arms, and let him guide you to straddle his lap. Feeling his jeans against your thighs and his shirt against your chest made your heart skip.

He took another long look at you when he broke away, a new darkness in his bright eyes.

“You’re so sexy,” he laughed softly, running his hands over your nude form and raising a brow as he watched goosebumps break out over your skin. “God, I need to be inside you…”

You bit down on your lip but it didn’t do much to suppress your whimper; lifting yourself up a bit, you grasped his cock and slid it through your folds, guiding him to your entrance.

You both gasped when he slipped inside, even when it was the slightest penetration— his whole head wasn’t in yet, and you just knew it would stretch you more than you were used to.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned loudly, tilting his head back, “you’re so wet, sweetheart…”

Lowering yourself, you took in a shaky breath, whining slightly as he opened you up one inch at a time... and each one seemed somehow thicker than the last. His fingers seemed to dig deeper into the skin at your hips and ass the lower that you sank onto him.

You could barely believe that you took it all; that you relaxed into his lap fully even when you feared being split in half by how thick he was. “Oh my god,” you blurted out, operating on instinct as you started to move— grinding back and forth, desperate for friction despite having been satisfied by his incredible mouth just a few minutes ago.

"Fuck, there you go," he encouraged with a growl, looking down at your hips rocking in his lap. "Ride me, just like that— fuck, ride my cock, little fuckin' whore..."

You whimpered at the insult, holding tighter onto his shoulders, but it only made you move faster. "S-so... so deep, Mr. Murphy," you whimpered.

"Yeah? You can take it," he promised darkly, holding tighter onto your waist as he dropped his head back with a low groan. "God, you're tight— fuck."

You gasped as he bucked his hips up, creating more pressure against your over-sensitive clit. "Oh, fuck," you breathed, struggling to cope with all the sensations he was giving you.

Both of you settled on the right pace, and he switched between resting his head back against the couch (giving you a nice view of his gorgeous neck, how could just a neck be so sexy?!) and looking down to watch you go. “So fuckin’ cute,” he praised— though you were sort of surprised to hear him describe you that way at a time like this. “So needy, honey… you want more, don’t you? You wanna go even faster.”

Now that he said it: yeah, you did. You bounced up and down, your moans coming out all shaky and uneven because of the movement, and he grinned proudly.

His hands wandered up from your waist to your chest, groping you eagerly as you gasped out his name in response. “Love these tits of yours,” he informed you, sounding oddly sweet for how dirty of a compliment it was. “Took everything in me not to stare at them when you’d come over for dinner… see what you do to me, sweetheart? Haven’t felt this desperate since I was your age.”

Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing, reminding you of how much older he was at a time like this. He purred when he felt you clench on him, obviously affected by the comment.

“Should’ve known you’d give in right away,” he went on, softening his voice to nearly a whisper as he watched you move with heavy eyes; you angled your hips back and moaned louder, his cock rubbing against just the right spot every time now. “Hungry little thing like you— now I wish I hadn’t waited so long. We could’ve been doing this the whole time… I could’ve shown you how much better it can be, when somebody really takes care of you.”

Whimpering, you felt another heady pang inside you— if he kept talking like that, you wouldn’t be able to keep your head on straight… then again, the fact that you were here proved that you were less stable than you thought.

“Faster, sweetheart,” he ordered again suddenly. “I wanna see how desperate you can get.”

You furrowed your brows together, almost pouting, but did exactly what he wanted— you wondered if you looked as pathetic as you sounded, riding him recklessly, chasing another peak even when it took all of your strength in those shaking legs.

He grabbed you by the jaw and guided you into another desperate kiss— all teeth and tongue and low moans. “Good fucking girl,” he snarled. “Good little slut.”

“Fuck,” you panted, moving faster. “Fuck, I’m close—”

“I know, honey,” he cooed, nodding as he moved his hand down to your neck. “Show me how bad you need it, sweetheart. Let me see it, I wanna see you come for me.”

Tossing your head back, you cried out his name again— why did you always do that when you came?— and felt it overtake you. It was even heavier than the last one, even more numbing and draining, and you didn’t even notice how hard you were digging your nails into his shoulders.

When your body failed and you came to a shaky stop, he didn’t give you much time to catch your breath: he grabbed you tight, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder, and began to buck his hips up into you quickly.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” you whined, overwhelmed by the feeling, holding onto him tightly just to have something to keep you grounded.

“Fuck, m’gonna come inside you,” he warned with a growl. “Gonna fill you, baby, you’ll be so fuckin’ full of my come—”

You sobbed and buried your face in his neck, starting to cry again for a completely different reason than before.

“Tell me you want it,” he ordered, speaking roughly right against your ear.

“F-fuck, I want it,” you gasped, “I want you to come— fuck— come inside me—”

He choked out a few more swears, he held you tight enough that you started to imagine what his bruises would look like on you tomorrow, and with a low groan of your name, it all suddenly slowed to a stop. You moaned weakly when you felt his cock flexing against your walls, even more heat pooling inside you. With what little energy you had left, you softly kissed his neck— until he seemed to come back to reality and pushed you back enough to be face-to-face with you again.

You realised suddenly that you were still sort of crying from the intensity of it all, and got nervous with him staring at you like that. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled as you wiped your face.

“Don’t apologise,” he told you again, moving your hands away so he could look at you himself. “Besides, you look even cuter when you cry.”

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #dilf!cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy rpf

3K notes · View notes

slut4thebroken · 3 months

Text

Dad/stepdad finding your vibrator hcs

Tommy Shelby, Cillian Murphy, Raymond Leon, Jackson Rippner, Lenny Miller

(All accurate to the universe’s time period)

Tommy Shelby - To say he was shocked would be an understatement. At first he was concerned— were you suffering from hysteria and he didn’t even know? But then he remembered that vibrators have very recently started being used for more… personal activities. He confronted you about it anyway though. You blushed and stuttered out “I- I can explain..” and he found it amusing at first, but he kept his expression stern. It was when you broke down crying that he suddenly softened. “I’m sorry, daddy. Please don’t be mad..” You cried out, making him pull you into a hug and shush you, trying to calm you down. “I’m not mad, love.” He said gently. “Just… tell me what it’s for.. I promise I won’t be mad.” You looked up at him with wide, teary eyes to see if he was being truthful. When you found no sign of a lie, you whispered that you use it for self pleasure, which he already knew. He just wanted to hear you say it. He sighed and shook his head. “You think you’re old enough to be playing with adult toys like this?” He asked, and you muttered out an excuse of how you just turned 18. “Maybe so, but I still don’t think it’s appropriate at your age.” That triggered something inside of you and you whined about how you’re an adult and you can do what you want, acting far too bratty for his liking. “Is that so? An adult, are you?” He had a condescending smirk on his lips and he pretended to think it over, then scoffed a laugh. “Fine then. If you’re an adult I guess I should start punishing you like one.” His tone was noticeably darker now. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Cillian Murphy - He knew he should’ve ignored it, respected your privacy… But he just kept thinking about you using it. The pretty sounds you probably made, the way your cheeks probably became flushed… But then he started thinking about you using it with someone.. Did you have a secret boyfriend? Or were you exploring your sexuality all on your own… Deciding to do the responsible thing, he started planning out when and how to talk to you about all of these new things you may be feeling as a developing young woman. One day he sat down with you, gently told you what he knew and reassured you when you immediately became embarrassed. He told you that it was natural and nothing to be ashamed of… “A young girl like yourself needs someone to guide her, teach her what’s right and how to be safe.” He said softly, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. “As your father, I’m afraid that role falls on me.” He tried not to seem too excited by the idea. Standing up, he walked over to where the toy was hidden and brought it back over to the bed, handing it to you. “I need to make sure you’re using it the right way. I’d hate for my little girl to get hurt.” He frowned, watching as your eyes widened. He didn’t let you protest as he helped removed your clothes and laid you down on the bed. “Now show me exactly how you’re using it, sweetheart.”

Raymond Leon - At first, he almost mistook it for something else, but when he did a double take, he realized what it actually was. A rush of emotions hit him, the main ones being anger, disappointment, and arousal. Were you turning into a whore? Did he do something wrong when raising you? When you came home one day, he was waiting on your bed, the vibrator next to him. You were immediately hit with a wave of embarrassment and humiliation- good. You started trying to defend yourself, saying it’s not what it looks like. “Don’t try to play innocent.” He scoffed. “Get over my fucking lap.” His voice was so harsh, it made you tear up as you begged him not to. So he roughly grabbed you and pulled you over his thighs, then flipped your skirt up. He spanked you until his hand was burning and there were little welts on your ass. You were sobbing loudly, the pain becoming too much, and with the way you kept squirming and rubbing against his cock, he eventually got hard. He forced the vibrator between your legs, making you apologize for your whorish behavior as you came over and over again until he was satisfied. “Get on your knees.” He demanded and you slid off his lap to the floor, still sobbing and almost hyperventilating from the overwhelming pleasure. “There are consequences for acting like a whore.” He spat, quickly opening his pants to free his cock, making your breath catch in your throat. “So, be a good girl for once and finish what you started.”

Jackson Rippner - He had been trying so hard to be a good father figure- god knows you desperately needed it. But as soon as he found a vibrator hidden away (very poorly) in one of your drawers, he just lost all control. He managed to wait a few days until it was only the two of you in the house, then confronted you. This wasn’t his proudest moment… but he didn’t regret it. “What would your mom think, huh?” He asked, subtly threatening you. “I would hate to have to tell her… but maybe we can work something out.” He said coyly, enjoying the way you blushed and squirmed and pouted. He made you beg for it, for his cock and for him to not tell your mom. Once he had you underneath him with his cock fully sheathed in your little cunt, he practically plowed into you until you cried. “This is your own fault.” He hissed. “The only reason this is happening is because you teased me by leaving it somewhere for me to find.” You sobbed harder and shook your head, unable to do anything else to protest. “You’ve been a fucking tease since day one with those tiny little shirts and the skirts that barely cover your ass… I’m fucking sick of it.” He growled, getting more worked up. “From now on, you’re gonna let me use this cunt whenever I want, or I’ll tell your mom about your little secret, and how you seduced me and begged me to fuck you.”

Lenny Miller - You should’ve known better than to think you could hide things from him. Just like you should’ve known better than to think you could lie to him. But when he confronted you, you denied it. Which he figured you might do… That’s why he set up a camera in your room, hidden in a vent but angled perfectly at your bed. The quality was not the best, but it was good enough to still obviously show what you were doing. He can’t even count the amount of times he came to that footage of you. When you tried lying, he sighed and reached for the remote, already having the tape ready in the tv. The second it turned on, you lips parted in shock and your face paled, then a very dark blush took over your cheeks. “There are a few different ways this can go. Option one: the camera stays up and you can keep the vibrator. Option two: I punish you, then confiscate it, but I’ll take down the camera.” He paused, lowering his voice into something darker and thick with arousal. “Or option three: you show me just how sorry you are for owning something like this. I’m still going to punish you, but if you do a good enough job begging, I might just let you keep it.” He said coyly. He waited impatiently for you to choose and when you couldn’t get any words out, still glancing at the tv, he chose for you. He spanked you until you cried and made you suck his cock to prove you were sorry, then forced you to ride him while you begged for his forgiveness.

485 notes · View notes

floralcyanide · 10 months

Text

𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 - 𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐲

cillian murphy x f!eader (nsfw)

In which your breeding kink comes to light and causes a night full of undying pleasure with your boyfriend, Cillian.

warnings: smut, breeding kink, nipple play, kind of mentions the idea of breastfeeding (not by Cillian lol), biting, choking, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), pussy slapping, dirty talk, fingering, tongue-fucking

word count: 2039

author’s note: warning I didn't read this after I wrote it so if it flows weird or has repetition or anything, I'm sorry lol I just needed to post this for ya'll!! please reblog/ like or comment if you enjoyed it, I love feedback < 3

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

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

Your head is in CIllian’s lap, his fingers carding through your hair gently as the two of you watch a movie. The lighting is dim, candles are lit throughout the living room, and an almost empty bottle of wine sits on the coffee table. You’ve got a slight buzz, and Cillian’s massaging of your scalp is making you dizzier. Kids run and play in the movie you’re watching, and suddenly, a thought pops into your head and comes straight out of your mouth.

“I want kids someday.”

You freeze, holding your breath for Cillian’s response.

You feel a hum rumble through your boyfriend as he continues to play in your hair, “Really?”

“Yeah,” you say, rolling over on your back so your face was toward the ceiling, “I mean, maybe.”

“It’s life-changing. It can be rough, but it’s a beautiful experience raising children,” Cillian admits, looking down at you.

The thought of mothering Cillian’s children sends chills across your body and warmth in your belly. You know he’s probably content with his two sons and couldn’t possibly want more children, but the mere idea of him cumming in you with a purpose turns you on. You have a breeding kink but have yet to bring it up to Cillian, as it’s a risky type of kink. Even though the two of you are in a committed and established relationship, neither of you has ever brought up the topic of having kids together. And going through with the breeding aspect of the kink entails the possibility of pregnancy. At this point in your partnership, though, you don’t bother using protection anymore as you trust each other wholeheartedly. Birth control is still used, however. You don’t have to have kids, of course, but the carnal need to be filled up by someone you love deeply is thrilling to think about.

“I know you’re well past wanting any more kids,” you say, looking Cillian in his enthralling eyes, “So it’s not something I think about too often.”

“I’m open to the idea, but if this is something you really want, we should definitely discuss it,” Cillian says, tracing his thumb along your jawline.

“It’s more or so the process of having kids that has always intrigued me,” you purse your lips, trying to think of how to get your desires across to him.

“You mean sex?” Cillian chuckles, “This sure is an interesting way of asking.”

You roll your eyes, smacking his stomach lightly, “Yes, but that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

You sit upright, moving over to straddle CIllian’s lap before grabbing his face and kissing him deeply.

Pulling an inch away from his lips, you press yourself into him, “I want you to fuck a baby into me.”

“But-”

“I want you to breed me like an animal in heat,” you whisper, dragging your thumb across Cillian’s bottom lip, “Fill me up with your cum.”

Cillian clears his throat, “I think I know what you’re hinting at here.”

“And?” you search his eyes for any inkling of distaste.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, my love,” Cillian shakes his head, snaking his arms around your waist as he stands up.

You wrap your arms and legs around him as he kisses you again, teeth clashing against yours. He nearly bumps you into the wall on the way to the bedroom, but you’re too focused on the feeling of Cillian’s mouth and his tongue lapping yours to really care. Finally arriving in the bedroom, Cillian drops you on the bed on your back, dragging you to the edge of the mattress by your ankles. You let out a squeal as he does so, giddiness shrouding you. The bedroom basks in soft light from the nightstand lamp, bringing out Cillian’s taut facial features. He focuses his weight on his hands, which are pressed into the bed at the sides of your head. He hovers over you, his icy blue eyes now darker around his blown pupils.

“A breeding kink, hmm?” Cillian smirks, leaning into your ear, “That’s hot. Good thing I’m into it as well.”

Shivers promptly cover your body in goosebumps as Cillian nips the shell of your left ear, sliding his tongue across your earlobe before taking it into his mouth. He bites it gently before pressing his lips to where your jaw meets your neck, cascading kisses along your skin. Your arms find themselves wrapped around Cillian’s shoulders as he travels to your neck with his searing lips. He then bites and sucks bruises on the column of your throat, marking you as his. Removing your sleep shirt, Cillian finds you have already shed your bra at some point in the evening. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he stares at your breasts, eyes hungry for you. Cillian then puts all his weight onto your abdomen, moving both his hands from around your head to grasp at your chest. He caresses his index fingers over your nipples, exhaling a satisfied laugh when they perk up immediately. Cillian dives his head down, taking your right nipple between his lips and slowly flicking his tongue across the sensitive bud. You groaned, unable to squeeze your legs together for friction as Cillian’s chest was between them. The other nipple is being lightly pinched, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. He continues focusing on your breasts, gradually getting rougher and harder with twists and bites.

“Wanna see your beautiful tits swollen with milk,” Cillian mutters, leaving bite marks on the skin around your areola.

His words cause you to become wetter, your hips involuntarily thrusting into Cillian’s, “Fuck, Cill.”

He massages your breasts, squeezing them and pushing them upward as he plays with your nipples.

“Need you to touch me, please,” you whine, your chest becoming sensitive.

Cillian moves down to your stomach, kissing and swirling his tongue around your belly button, “Gonna make your stomach nice and big with my baby.”

Cillian pulls down your lounge pants, tossing them to the floor. He grabs your hips, his thumbs anchoring you to the mattress as his breath fans across your damp underwear.

“So wet for me already? Ready to take me and let me fill you up?” Cillian nips at the skin of your thighs, his eyes not moving from yours.

“Yes,” you whimper, unable to wiggle your hips from his grip on them, “Need you inside me.”

“Need to prep you first, love,” Cillian kisses the wet spot of your underwear before pulling them off.

His tongue licks a fat stripe from your entrance to your swollen bundle of nerves, his beautiful lips encircling it as he lightly sucks it between his teeth. You can’t help but let out a deep moan at the contact, impatiently wishing he’d fuck you with either his fingers or his cock already. But of course, Cillian loves to tease and take all you have to offer before giving you what you want. He releases your clit, now focusing on your soaking entrance as he laps up your arousal there, pushing his tongue inside you. Cillian moves your hips upward so his tongue delves deeper into you, causing your toes to curl. Suddenly, a finger slides in underneath his tongue, exploring your g spot. You tremble at the feeling as pleasure courses through your veins. Then, Cillian adds another digit as he begins to fuck you with his fingers and tongue simultaneously. You thrust your hips as his free hand guided you to mercilessly ride his tongue and two middle fingers. You can feel the pressure of an orgasm creeping up on you, but you don’t want to cum yet.

“I need you inside of me,” you struggle to speak, your mind cloudy with lust.

Cillian slowly removes himself from your needy pussy, and you can feel yourself clench around nothing. He takes off his shirt, followed by his lounge pants and underwear. His length is hard against his stomach, leaking and ready for you.

“On your hands and knees, darling,” Cillian orders, and you hurry to the top of the bed, hugging a pillow as you lean down and jut your ass in the air.

Cillian flattens his hand on your shoulder blades, running his palm along your spine until it reaches your ass, where he gently squeezes. He spreads you open with both hands and your arousal glistens in the moody light of the bedroom.

“Soaked and ready for this cock, huh?” Cillian pushes your back down even further until your chest and abdomen are flush with the bed.

“Yes, sir,” you say, quivering with anticipation.

Cillian aligns himself with your core, sliding his head along your wetness, gathering enough for him to push in slowly without struggle. Your walls clench around him tightly as he inches into you. Finally, Cillian’s hips are against your ass, and he pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in.

“Fuck,” you sneer, fingernails digging into the pillow.

“Taking me so well,” Cillian grunts, slamming into you again, “Gonna slam my cock into your womb and fill it up with my cum.”

You whine into the pillowcase as his rhythm increases, your body rutting into the mattress. Suddenly, a slap lands on your cunt, causing you to jolt and clench harder around Cillian’s length.

“That feel good?” Cillian leans over you, his face now next to yours, “You’re so wet, I can feel you gushing around me.”

You moan loudly into the pillow as he pounds into your cervix, his head dragging along your g spot flawlessly with every thrust. Cillian slaps your clit over and over with the same rhythm as his thrusts, making you cry out. He grabs a fistful of your hair as he sits back up, pulling your head from the safety of the plush pillow.

“I wanna hear you, sweetheart. I wanna hear you take my cock like the cum-hungry slut you are,” Cillian says, pulling your hair harshly.

“God, fuck,” you scream as he thrusts particularly deep inside you, “I’m your slut. I need you to cum in me, Cill. So bad,” you whimper.

His pace becomes relentless, his hips snapping into your asscheeks forcefully as he takes you from behind. But he then pulls out, lets go of your hair, and flips you over on your back, and you nearly scream from frustration at the sudden emptiness. Cillian wastes no time pulling your legs onto his shoulders and rentering you, grabbing your hips and pulling them forward so he can fuck you as deep as possible. He slaps your sensitive and red clit again, over and over, before reaching his hand around your neck. He squeezes the sides of your throat, dizzying you as he slams his cock into your cervix almost violently. You were definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasp as Cillian grasps your breasts, harshly pulling and twisting your hard nipples.

“Do you want me to finish fucking this baby into you? Gonna milk my cock as you cum and feel me fill you up to the brim> Is that what you want?”

“Yes, please! Please, fuck, fill me up, Cillian. I need you so bad,” you moan, throwing your head back.

“Fuck,” Cillian growls, snapping his hips up, hitting you at a new and delicious angle.

It doesn’t take long for you to orgasm, as Cillian gives you one last particularly harsh slap to your clit before rubbing it vigorously. He soon follows with his own, his warm seed filling you as your walls milk him for every drop. Cillian runs his hand down your body until he pulls out, arousal and cum seeping out of you. He gathers some on his fingers before shoving them into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his digits, tasting a hint of yourself mixed with CIllian’s cum.

“Did you want me to take my pill tonight?” you say after catching your breath and letting Cillian collapse beside you.

“Only if you want to,” he says, “But I think we’d have a beautiful child.”

You chuckle before rolling on your side and tossing your arm over his warm chest, “That we would.”

taglist:

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

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x reader smut #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x you smut #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x y/n smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #oppenheimer #oppenheimer 2023 #red eye #inception #floralcyanide writes

2K notes · View notes

starkwlkr · 3 months

Note

Hi Jen!!!❤️❤️❤️

I saw your requests were open so possibly, social media au or not, Cillian Murphy’s or Christopher Nolan’s daughter (either one would be fine, but I saw your imagine about Nolan!reader x Cillian so maybe Cillian would be better, either one is fine though) dating Charles Leclerc or lando Norris

(I don’t know if this has been done yet but it feels very random, but it I saw you wrote for F1 and Cillian so I just thought of that crossover. Couldn’t decide which driver I wanted to request for so I’ll leave it up to you between Charles and lando)

But if you do, then thank you!!!

my favorite nepo baby | lando norris

faceclaim saorsie ronan (don’t hate me, yes ik there’s more irish actresses but i love saoirse) also i love this request, mixing random fandoms is my favorite thing ever

liked by maxverstappen1, ynfans and 56,377 others

danielricciardo happy birthday, lady bird

mclarentears WHAT

dannyric333 does daniel know everyone??

bottaszz you don’t understand THIS IS IMPORTANT TO ME

landonorris my favorite nepo baby

danielricciardo the nepo baby says thank you

landonorris tell the nepo baby to make an account

danielricciardo no - the nepo baby

landonorris i tried

vettelsbees this is my roman empire

view all 23,477 comments

summer break

Y/n Murphy only knew Daniel Ricciardo because he had friends everywhere. It was only a matter of time before the Irish actress met the famous honey badger. Soon, his friends became her friends and the whole friend group was hanging out everywhere.

One of their hang out spots was the F1 paddock. Daniel insisted for Y/n to come to his favorite race, the Austin Grand Prix. It was no secret that Daniel is secretly a Texan so he wanted his new friend to experience the Texas atmosphere.

“We need to get you some boots and maybe a longhorns jersey. You’ll look so cool, trust me.” Daniel said as him, Heidi and Y/n walked into the AlphaTauri garage.

“He’s going to convert you into a Texan.” Heidi whispered to Y/n.

“Can you imagine me going home to my father speaking with a texas accent? He’ll have a stroke!” Y/n laughed.

“I bet that by the end of the day, you’ll love texas as much as I do.” Daniel smirked. “Maybe you’ll find a country boy you can take home to your old man.”

“Oh god, he’s going to have more strokes, die then come back and have more strokes.”

“Well then I can get you a British boy that won’t make your old man die.”

Y/n knew who Daniel was referring to. On the day of her birthday, which was a few days ago, Daniel showed her the comments that Lando had left on his post.

‘my favorite nepo baby’

While she told everyone she didn’t have an Instagram account, she had a secret one that only had about twenty followers which were close family and friends. She used that account to look at Lando’s account. She was going to lie, he was attractive.

“Just make an instagram! That boy keeps messaging me about you.” Daniel pleaded.

“I don’t use social media, I tried and I didn’t like it.” What a lie.

“Okay well can you at least talk to him? Wait, I should go with you, he might be the one having a stroke.”

So while Heidi stayed back in the garage, Daniel accompanied Y/n to the Mclaren garage so Lando could finally meet his favorite nepo baby. Y/n started to feel nervous, why? She didn’t know, she hardly knew Lando apart from his instagram posts.

“Hey Landoooooo!” Daniel dragged out the o.

“Is that Daniel Ric—” Lando’s voice stopped when he noticed who was standing beside Daniel.

“Is he having a stroke? I can’t tell.” Daniel whispered to Y/n.

“Hi . . . You’re y/n. Wow.” Lando tried to play it cool. “I’m Lando, but I’m guessing you already knew that because of the giant Australian yelling my name. Thank you Daniel.”

“Glad I could be of service. I have to go get ready, but you two go ahead and talk. Y/n, I’ve been told the Mclaren garage is the best spot to watch a race so . . bye!”

And all thanks to Daniel Ricciardo and his match making skills, your dad, Cillian, didn’t have a stroke when he finally met Lando.

#inbox <3 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #lando norris instagram au #lando norris insta au #ln4 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris

614 notes · View notes

pinguwrites · 6 months

Text

A Daughter’s Duty | Cillian Murphy

Pairing -> dark!cillian murphy x stepdaughter!reader

Summary -> You’re stepfather has made a habit of sneaking into your room at night to use you, even when you don’t want it.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: NON-CON, DARK!!, stepfather!cillian, age-gap (reader’s 18+, Cillian’s early 40s), Cillian’s manipulative and lowkey sexist and just overall disgusting, stepdaughter!reader, reader’s innocent, p in v sex, ddlg kink, use of daddy/little girl nickname, mention of periods, implied reader’s mother is neglectful, I got this idea off a porn video lol, mention of porn

Disclaimer: This is not a reflection of Cillian Murphy's actual life. This is completely separate and is not intended to harm him or his family in any way. DNI if you're a Yvonne hater. This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

A/N: Probably gonna make a part two of the first time they did it 🤭 which I guess will be called part one lol

“You awake?” your stepfather, Cillian Murphy, asked, lightly knocking. Your bedroom door was slightly open, and before you could even answer, he pushed it to the side, walked in, and turned the lock.

“Mhm.” You put aside your schoolwork and turned off the desk lamp. You immediately went to Cillian, wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. He was warm, like always, and he immediately put his hands on your back, rubbing up and down in a soothing manner.

“Feeling alright? I know you just had your period,” he said, lifting your chin up. You noticed a dark look in his eyes, but you ignored it. “Do you need anything? Snacks? Heating pad? Massage?”

You shook your head. “Could we just cuddle?”

Your mother hated it when you two were close like this, despite the fact that she never tried to be affectionate with you. She was out now, however, partying at some friend’s house, so it’s not like she would know.

Cillian nodded and lifted you up, placing you down on the bed. He covered both of you with the blanket and started peppering sweet kisses on your face and down your neck.

“Little girl,” he cooed. “How did I get so lucky?”

You giggled. “How did I get so lucky?” you said in response, resting your head on his shoulder, when you noticed his fingers circling your clit through your panties. “Daddy, not now.”

He didn’t listen, and continued brushing his fingers against your clothing.

“I don’t feel like it,” you protested, trying to close your legs. “Can we do it later?”

Cillian still didn’t say anything. He crawled on top of you and planted a hot and heavy kiss on your lips, forcing his tongue inside, his hands slipping under your bra.

“Mmph!”

You didn’t struggle, knowing that your stepfather would never hurt you, but you did feel uncomfortable. Your pussy was starting to get a little hot, but even as your body reacted positively, your mind was still frazzled.

Cillian pulled away, a string of saliva attaching you both, until it broke.

He pinched your nipples through the bra and pulled on them, waiting for them to go hard. “Daddy!”

“Shh,” he murmured, leaning in to suck on your breasts. He licked them until he was satisfied, cupping them in his hands, leaving your bra with wet spots. It clung to your skin.

It did felt good. It always felt good, but it wasn’t about that. It was sweet, but it felt forced. Cillian had never forced you like this before.

“You just said you were feeling well,” he said, looking deep into your eyes. “You’ll like it. I’ll make sure.”

Cillian rubbed his clothed cock it between your legs, humping you like a horny animal. He let out quiet noises, holding you in place. Eventually, your panty got too wet, so he ripped it off, took off his own clothing, keeping his shirt on, and started grinding skin to skin.

“Yes,” he breathed out, sliding his fat cock through your folds. “So wet, such a pretty pussy.”

You whimpered. “Daddy, not now—”

“—Take off that damn shirt,” he growled. “Show me those tits.”

You hurriedly pulled your bra up, your breasts spilling out with a bounce that held Cillian captivated.

“Slap them for me,” he ordered. He held the tip of his cock and vibrated it on your clit, making you shudder in pleasure.

You did as he asked, trying your best to focus. As you tweaked and hit and played with your breasts, he watched, praising you, telling you what a good girl you were.

“You don’t do this for any other man, okay?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Cillian smiled sweetly at your response.

He positioned himself, pressing his body close to yours, your legs up and bent over his. You couldn’t move, all you could was push your hands up against his chest.

“Daddy, please, no.”

Cillian started thrusting. It wasn’t a very fast pace, but it wasn’t slow either. It had a rhythm, one he made sure got him as deep inside of you as he could.

He grunted. “So fucking tight. Need’a do this more often.”

You moaned, arching your back, a reaction you couldn’t help. “How often?”

“Every day.”

You stared at him, not sure what to think.

“Ah, I know. I know I said only once a week, but you know how Daddy gets. Remember what I said about men?”

You nodded. The first time he’d done this, he had sat you down. He told you that you needed to be taught about pleasure, and all things grown-up now that you were ready. He explained to you how men needed to fuck often, that it was a primal instinct, and that for him, you were the one he needed. He showed you how to suck his cock, how it felt like to be sucked in return — he even showed you porn.

It was a topic you had known little about. It was all so exciting and knew, and he made you feel safe and comfortable.

Well, except for now. You were rather uneasy as he pressed his body weight onto you, as his cock — that you always whined was too big — pushed in and out of you, stretching your walls, filling you up until you weren’t sure there was and space left.

“Ngh, y-you’re raping me, daddy,” you whimpered.

Cillian huffed, almost amused. He stopped thrusting, only for a moment, then he pushed his cock as deep inside of you as he could. You cried out, but he was too focused on the feeling of your walls clenching to notice.

“Ah!”

“Daddy’s raping you, hmm?”

“Yes!” you squeaked out, pushing your hands up against his chest. You were starting to feel a little sore.

“Where’d you learn such a big word like that?”

You didn’t answer, just kept struggling against him.

“Mmm, love it when you squirm like this,” he moaned in your ear. He grabbed your hands and put them to the side, only to completely drape his body over yours and let go.

You tried to push him off, but all you could reach was his back, and it was futile. A warm feeling coiled up in your lower stomach, and you knew you were about to cum.

“Come whenever you feel like, princess,” Cillian said, your pussy fluttering around his cock. “I’m not stopping till I feel like it.”

It wasn’t that it was hurting. It was just that you didn’t want it, at least a few minutes ago. Why couldn’t he understand?

“I know you don’t like it sometimes, but it’s your responsibility to please me. Just like it’s my responsibly to please you. You’re about to cum, aren’t you?”

You could feel your pussy heating up even more, that familiar feeling slowly building up.

“Yes.”

“Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”

Your heart warmed at his words, despite how taken advantage of you were feeling.

“Daddy — please, ungh.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, “fuck, fuck.”

You both came around the same time. He took out his cock and held it by your face, his white cream spilling out on your lips, dribbling down your chin. Your own dripped down to the bedsheets. The ecstasy made you dizzy, but the good kind, and only for a moment.

“There ya go, sweetheart.”

Cillian wrapped you up in his arms. He rubbed his nose against yours, and then kissed it, his beautiful blue eyes filled with love and adoration.

“You liked that?”

“. . . I asked you to stop,” you mumbled, looking away.

Cillian sighed. It was one of disappointment, which made you feel like shriveling on the inside.

“But you liked it.” He ran his thumb across your cum-stained lips. “I would never have done it if hurt you. There was no pain, was there?”

“No,” you admitted.

“See?” Cillian paused for a moment, then chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “I would eat you out, but I have a feeling you’d say no.”

You glared, but to him it was adorable, not menacing.

“Alright, alright. How about we go downstairs and watch a movie? One of those princess ones?”

A smile made its way onto your face, though you tried to hide it. You were still upset.

“Fine.”

“Good girl,” he said, lowering his tone. He picked you up and held you bridal style. “But first, let’s clean you up, yeah?” He swiped a bit of his cum from your skin. “Can’t have you on the couch covered with this.”

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@meetmeatyourworst

@mrkdvidal1989

@nela-cutie

@obsessionandmadness

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #fanfiction #pinguwrites

745 notes · View notes

babybluebex · 10 months

Note

def write more best friends dad!cillian orrrr maybe you can dip ur toes into dads best friend!cillian??? i feel like that would be awesome!

here you go, lovelies, the long awaited dad's best friend!cillian! enjoy! warnings for smut (oral f!receiving, fingering), age gap (cillian is 46, reader is in her 20s)

The moment you surfaced from the water, you felt his gaze on you. You had known Mr. Murphy for years, for long enough for him to insist that you call him Uncle Cillian (although you didn’t, but you were never sure why), and his bright blue eyes were hard to miss, especially when they were fixated on you.You swiped the droplets of chlorinated water from your eyes as you looked around for him, dodging the various people that were in your backyard. It was a hot Saturday evening, and your parents were putting on a little summer party to celebrate you being home from college; of course, Mr. Murphy was invited, and you had briefly greeted him when he arrived a few hours before, before you got in the pool. But now, you felt him watching you, and you found him standing by the back door that led into your kitchen.

You watched as he averted his eyes, obviously having been caught looking, and he slipped inside your house quickly. You scrunched up your eyebrows in confusion at his hasty exit, and you swam to the edge of the pool, tugging yourself up and out. Your towel laid nearby, and you quickly dried off and wrapped it around your waist as you padded barefoot by your dad. “Don’t track water into the house,” he told you as you passed, and you absently nodded, still intent on following Mr. Murphy inside.

You found him all alone in the kitchen, standing with his back to the door, leaning against the island, sipping at his beer. He had his phone in his hand, scrolling too quickly to really be looking at anything on his screen, and you purposefully opened the fridge louder than usual to get him to look at you. “What’re you doing in here?” you asked playfully when he looked at you, his paralyzing blue eyes scanning your body, from your soaked hair to the almost-too-small white bikini top you wore. “Don’t you know the party’s out there?”

Mr. Murphy shrugged. “Got hot outside,” he said. “And I know where your dad keeps the good beer.”

You nodded, not really believing him, and you pulled out a can of soda and shut the fridge door with your hip. “Well, wearing sweaters and shit probably doesn’t help with the heat,” you said, reaching out for the corner of his navy cardigan. “You should’ve brought your swim trunks, you could’ve gotten in the pool with me.”

“Ah,” Mr. Murphy scoffed. “Nobody wants to see me parading around in my bathing suit. I’m too old and out of shape for that.”

“As if,” you said. “You look fine, don’t stress too much.”

“Thanks, love,” Mr. Murphy said softly. “Sorry, I’ve just… Ever since the divorce, I haven’t really felt like myself.”

Ah, right. The divorce. Your parents and The Murphys had been friends since they were your age— you had seen the scrapbook pictures of college-aged versions of your dad and Cillian getting up to no good— and you had to admit that you were always a little closer to Aunt Yvonne (not to say you didn’t like Mr. Murphy, because you did, but you always liked Aunt Yvonne more). When you were at college and your dad offhandedly mentioned on the phone one night that Yvonne and Cillian were separating, you had frowned. “Is Yvonne okay?” you asked. “What happened?”

“I’ve only talked to Cillian about it,” your dad had told you. “And he hasn’t said much. People just grow apart, I guess.”

You screwed up your mouth at the mention of the mysterious divorce, and you popped the tab of your soda. “That’s okay,” you told him. “You just need to find someone new.”

“Really?” Mr. Murphy asked. “A rebound? Is that how you deal with breakups?”

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged. “Whenever I get sad about my ex or whatever, I just go find someone else to focus on for a little while.”

“First of all, that’s not healthy,” Mr. Murphy chuckled. “Second… I don’t know, I was married for 20 years. I have two kids. I can’t just go find a girl at a bar and hook up with her and expect to get over it.”

“I don’t know, man,” you mumbled. “Just trying to help, I guess.”

“I appreciate that,” Mr. Murphy said. “You’ve always been a sweet girl.”

Oh. Oh no. You felt a stirring in your lower belly when he said that, one that made heat flood your bikini bottoms, and you shifted your weight on your feet as you nervously sipped your soda. You had to admit that Mr. Murphy, with his high cheekbones and greying hair and brilliant eyes, was quite attractive, exactly your type, and you had considered fucking him before, but, because of Aunt Yvonne, you had pushed down that desire and pretended it didn’t exist. It was just a fantasy about your dad’s best friend; that wasn’t that uncommon, was it?

“So,” he started before you could think anymore. “How’s college?”

You shrugged. “Fine, I guess,” you said. “Classes are okay, but exams are hard as hell.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mr. Murphy said softly. “Any boys catch your eye?”

“Honestly, not really,” you said. “They’re all kind of… Eh, I guess. I don’t like any of them the way I—” You cut yourself off before you could finish your sentence, the way I like you, and you stammered, “I-I should.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Mr. Murphy asked. “I mean, I know college boys can be dumb, but what’s wrong?”

“They’re just not mature enough,” you said softly. You set down your drink and wrapped your arms around your middle, and you added, “I don’t want to worry that my boyfriend will do some stupid shit on a night out. And they just, umm, don’t do things the way I want them to.”

Mr. Murphy wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion, also setting down his drink, and he leaned his hip against the kitchen island. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well…” you started. “Boys my age don’t, like… Whenever I’ve hooked up with a guy, I’ve always asked him to do certain stuff, and he never does. At least not well.”

“Wait,” Mr. Murphy said. “Are you telling me that the boys you go out with don’t go down on you?”

Your skin prickled at the sound of those words coming out of his mouth, and you eyed him suspiciously before you cleared your throat. “Um, not really,” you said. “Like, they do it, but never well.”

“Oh, darling,” Mr. Murphy sighed. “You need to find a really good guy that’ll do that. And he’ll treat you like the princess that you are; don’t ever let a man do anything less.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Thanks, Mr. Murphy,” you said softly.

He smiled softly, tilting his chin down to look at you, and he said, “Now, how many times have I told you to call me Cillian?”

Your heart skipped in your chest, and you mumbled, “A-A few.”

“And yet, you don’t,” Cillian said. “Why not? You called my wife Yvonne, why not me by my name?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I never felt like I was close enough to you to really… Deserve to call you that.”

Cillian took a step towards you, then hesitated, then reached out for you. You expected him to grab your hands or touch your shoulders, but his fingers tucked in the towel around your waist. He waited for a moment before he slowly unraveled it from your body, and his eyes hungrily took in the sight of your legs. “Wow,” he whispered. “I knew that you would be so beautiful…”

“Cillian?” you said gently, nervously looking over your shoulder to the outside door, where everybody else was still outside. “Wh-What if someone sees?”

“Sees what?” Cillian asked. He set your towel on the counter, taking a step closer to you. “We’re not doing anything.”

“Yeah, but…” you started. “But—”

“If you want me to do something, all you have to do is ask,” Cillian told you. “But ask nicely.”

You swallowed thickly. “I-I don’t even know what I want,” you told him. “I’ve thought about this, sure, but…”

“Do you want me to go down on you?” Cillian asked. “Just say the magic word, love.”

You blinked, fluttering your eyelashes at him, and you softly said, “Please?”

Cillian’s face softened, and he took your hips in his grasp, pulling you close to him. He gently moved you to the counter and helped you jump up on it, and he buried his face in your neck and took a deep breath as his fingers danced at the ties on your bikini bottom. “Sweet girl,” he whispered. “How long have you wanted this?”

“Umm…” you started, and your breath caught in your throat when he deftly undid your ties, pulling your wet bottoms from your skin. “A long time.”

“Yeah?” Cillian breathed, and he carefully moved down to kneel on the ground in front of you, his face level with your pussy. You felt almost shy as he looked at you, and you wiggled on the countertop as his dull fingernails pressed into the flesh of your thigh. “And how long has it been since you’ve had sex?”

“A few weeks,” you told him. “I haven’t since I moved back home.”

“Oh, you’re dying for it, aren’t you?” Cillian cooed softly. “Your little vibrator isn’t enough, right?”

“No,” you breathed. Cillian leaned forward and littered soft kisses on the inside of your thighs, coming close to where you wanted him but never landing exactly there. He was teasing you, the bastard. Your hand left the counter and curled in his salt and pepper hair, urging him closer to your pussy, and he smiled, looking up at you with those brilliant eyes. You felt shocked, like his gaze was electric, and Cillian sighed heavily, focusing back down between your legs.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning across your core. “My sweet girl…” Then, before he could say more, he pressed forward, touching his lips to your pussy. You jolted in surprise, letting out a quick laugh to try to ease your nerves, and he chuckled lightly. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Just… Nervous.”

“Why’re you nervous?” Cillian asked, smoothing his hands up your legs to rest on your back.

“If someone catches us—” you started, and Cillian furrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head.

“They won’t,” he told you.

“But if they do?” you countered.

“But they won’t,” Cillian said firmly. “Ease up, love, just enjoy this. Let me take care of you.”

“O-Okay,” you said softly. Your fingers rested against the back of his head as he continued to kiss all over you, and he finally put his mouth right where you wanted him to, almost like you had led him there. His tongue darted out to taste you, playing gently with your soft clit, and you closed your eyes blissfully, letting the wet warmth of his mouth overtake you. “Fuck, Cill…”

“That’s it,” Cillian whispered, and his lips captured your clit, sucking on it for a brief moment, just long enough for you to moan softly, and he broke away. His tongue ran a thick line up your wet cunt, tasting you from throbbing hole to quivering clit, and he went back to your hole, teasing you with the tip of his tongue.

You clenched your teeth to keep from being too loud, and you watched Cillian eat your pussy like he was starving for it, lapping up your wetness and sucking eagerly at every inch of flesh that he could get his mouth on. He held you tightly, yet tenderly, wanting all of you that you would give him, and the warmth of an orgasm began to build in your belly. God, that was quick, but you suppose that Cillian had years of experience. He knew what he was doing, far better than any kid from your sociology class could do. “Cill,” you whispered, and he looked at you through his eyelashes, shocking your system again. “Fuck!”

“What is it, baby?” he asked softly. His fingers itched to your pussy, lighting trailing up and down your slit, and you whined as you felt an intense and sudden need.

“Want you,” you mumbled.

“What do you want?” Cillian asked.

“Anything,” you panted, jolting your hips again at his light teasing. “Everything.”

“Unless you have a condom,” Cillian started with a laugh. “I’m not having proper sex with you. I’ll do this and finger you and everything else, but…”

“Why not?” you asked. “Are you worried that I…?”

“No, I’m not worried about that,” Cillian said. “I know you don’t have anything, it’s not that. I just… I don’t want there to even be a chance that you could… That we could…”

“I don’t understand,” you said, looking down at him through half-open lids.

“I don’t wanna knock you up,” Cillian said quickly, as if saying it quickly would lessen its impact. “And I’m not going to fuck you if I don’t have a condom, because, once I get inside you, I know I won’t be able to control myself from cumming inside you.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “It’s not a… An Irish Catholic thing?”

That made Cillian laugh. “You know, just because ‘Irish Catholic’ is a thing doesn’t mean that all Irish people are Catholics—”

“No, no, I know,” you said quickly. “Sorry, just checking.”

Cillian smiled softly, laughing gently at you, and his fingers gently touched your hole, waiting for you to do something in response. You sighed, flexing your hips down to urge his fingers inside you, and he did as you requested, pressing his middle finger past your flesh and inside you. You gasped at the feeling, loving him so deep, and you mumbled, “Cill…”

“I know, love,” Cillian said, placing a soft kiss to your clit. “Does it feel good?”

“So good,” you whimpered. Cillian began to slowly thrust his finger inside you, moving gently as he sucked lightly on your clit, and you gasped quickly. “Cill! Oh my God!”

“That’s it, lovely,” Cillian said. He pushed his second finger in, pausing to let you adjust to the feeling of it, and then he started up a relentless pace, fucking you quickly on his fingers as his mouth and tongue explored your pussy. “God, you’re so tight, s’good…”

The heat inside you was becoming too much, tingling even down in your toes as it grew in your belly, and you whimpered and let out a cracked moan as his fingers hooked up inside you, brushing that sensitive nerve. “Cill!” you yelped, your hand flying down to grab at his wrist, as if that would stop his quick fucking. “Oh my God, I’m gonna cum!”

“Mhm,” Cillian hummed, burying his face fully into you. “Let it out, baby.”

You whined high in your throat, everything becoming all too overwhelming, and your legs shook as the heat burst in your belly. Your head fell back as you moaned, maybe a little too loud, and Cillian fucked you through it, whispering out “Yes, love, you’re so good, you’re such a good girl for me.” You tugged on his hair as your orgasm crashed through you, trying to keep him right where he was but also pull him away all at the same time, and Cillian smiled into your pussy, letting his tongue linger a bit at your throbbing hole. “Now,” he started softly. “Was that better than what you’re used to?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. You looked down at him, still kneeling on the floor, and you brushed back his hair out of his eyes gently before he started to stand up. “Thanks.”

“Of course, love,” Cillian said. He grimaced a bit as he stood, mumbling out something about that damn knee, and he added, “When’re you going back to university?”

“Not for a few months,” you said. “It’s summer break.”

“That’s nice,” Cillian said. “Well, erm… I’d like to see you again.”

“Oh, yeah?” you chuckled. You slid off of the counter and retrieved your bottoms, and you did the ties back up as you tried to stand on your shaking and weak legs. Jesus, he really did a number on you. “When?”

Cillian took his drink back into his hand and sipped at it for a moment, thinking hard. “Well,” he began. “Whenever you’re free. I’m at your mercy, love.”

“Right,” you said, laughing softly. “I’ll let you know.”

At that moment, the door to the backyard creaked open, and your heart stopped as your dad came into the kitchen. “There you two are,” he said. “I thought you were still outside.”

“No, I cornered her to ask about school,” Cillian chuckled, and he looked at you. “Remember what I said: school first, parties later. Right?” He winked at you, and you huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, sure,” you smiled. “Whatever you say, Cillian.”

#bex answers #anon ask #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy rpf #dad's best friend!cillian

843 notes · View notes