#Oppenheimer x you

[queenshelby]

Chemical Reactions (P. 4)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Smut in later parts, Age-Gap, Infidelity

Words: 2,567

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

Previous Parts: 1; 2; 3

Two weeks later…

Just over two weeks had passed since you took up your scholarship at Berkley and it has been seven days since you began researching for your thesis about dark matter under the supervision of J Robert Oppenheimer who, unfortunately for you, appeared to be somewhat preoccupied with more important matters these days.

For the weeks and days, he had been visited by a man of statue who appeared to be a general of some sort and, whilst you were curious about this man’s visits to Berkley, you already some idea about what this may be about.

For months there had been some talks in the scientific community about the fission reaction of atoms which ultimately gave rise to the possible creation of a new innovative bomb. It was only a matter of time until the army caught on to this idea and you knew from your time at Harvard that several professors had already been lobbying for an atomic bomb project in this regard.

You thus assumed that, finally, the program was going to implemented, especially since now Germany had just invaded Poland. You knew that, an atomic bomb like this could end the war and your presumption was that the army was recruiting scientists, including J Robert Oppenheimer, to build this powerful nuclear weapon before the Germans did.

As such, you did not bother him much these days with minuscule issues about dark matter and Dr Oppenheimer certainly kept to himself whenever he could until Tuesday evening came around and he finally decided to check on you in the lab.

Your POV

Unlike your very own professor, in the lab, you were an ace and experimenting to prove a theory someone else or yourself has come up with excited you a lot even though the theoretical part of physics was what you desired to be involved in the most.

Unlike many other students in your department at Berkley, you had a high attention to detail when it came to experimental physics and since working with hazardous chemicals at high or low pressures required some planning and special precautions, you enjoyed to use the laboratory after everyone had left.

You often spent hours in the lab following your lectures for the day and today was not any different when, at 7 o’clock at night, you were still occupied by your attempts to create a chemical reaction similar to that of a star exploding.

Thus, when Dr Oppenheimer approached you from behind, just as you put the centrifuge you were using under negative pressure and connected it the exhaust system, you startled.

You were concentrating too hard and did not expect to see anyone at this hour in the laboratory, especially not him, your very own supervisor who had been too busy for your research in the past two weeks.

“Holy shit, you startled me” you thus spat as you dropped one of the glass vials on to the concrete floor which, luckily for you, did not contain anything but some pH solution.

“I don’t believe that I ever heard you swear like this, Miss Y/LN” Dr Oppenheimer said with some amusement in his voice before gathering a small broom and helping you to clean up the mess you made because of him, which was a gesture you appreciated.

“My apologies Dr Oppenheimer. It’s just, you don’t seem to be here often these days and I am behind with my research already, so…” you stammered as, together, you cleaned up the broken glass and, before you realised it, his hand was on top of yours, caressing it gently.

Immediately, you felt that same tingling again on your skin which, just a few weeks ago, you felt on your neck when Dr Oppenheimer adjusted the clip on the back of your necklace. It was an intense and rather pleasurable sensation which, ultimately, made you blush.

“There is no need to apologise. If anyone had to apologise, it should be me, for neglecting my engagement as your thesis supervisor. Unfortunatly, there have been some more pressing matters that required my attention” Dr Oppenheimer then said as he was letting go of your hand and raising back to his feet before helping you up as well by using his right hand.

“I figured” you barely stammered while allowing Dr Oppenheimer to pull you to your feet before, with a slight blush, walking towards the utilities room to dispose of the broken glass vail and to obtain a new one.

“You figured?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked somewhat confused by your statement as he followed you into the utilities room.

“I have seen an army general visiting your office twice last week and my presumption is that you have been recruited to build this goddamn bomb, which every physicist in this country has been talking about for months” you asserted with little to no reluctance before also voicing your concerns about it. “Do you really think that this is a good idea?” you wanted to know, seeing that such bomb could easily be a device of mass destruction and, just as you spoke the words, Robert pushed you further into the corner of the utilities room while closing the door shut behind you.

You then suddenly felt his warm but strong arm pull you against him before covering your mouth with the palm of his other hand.

“Shh” he whispered before shaking his head, indicating for you to stop talking and, by that point, your heart was pounding hard with adrenaline.

He must have thought that someone was listening in on you and presumed that the laboratory was bugged by government officials, but none of this mattered to you now as you felt heat everywhere now while his body was touching yours.

The feeling of his body against yours was so intense that you couldn’t even murmur a response into his palm and thus you simply nodded, which is when he spoke again.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, but you sure have a creative imagination” Dr Oppenheimer said, brushing off what you had alleged while still holding his arms around you and embracing the sparks of electricity emanating from each other's bodies.

“Now, about your research on dark matter, how does Sunday sound for a catch up?” he then asked as you looked up into his bright blue eyes while he looked down at you with a look of concern and a hint of desire.

“Sunday?” you murmured in response as you could not even manage to speak proper words just yet as you stood there like this for what felt like hours, but it could not even have been more than a minute or two.

“Yes. Sunday. I am away until then” Dr Oppenheimer then said as his arms finally fell from around you and he cleared his throat.

“And, I am leaving for a period of two weeks after that for which Dr O’Connell will be taking over as your supervisor. He will be a good mentor for you but I want to see where you are at with your research before he gets involved” Dr Oppenheimer then announced which broke your trance and you quickly stepped back, almost tripping over your own feet.

“Dr O’Connell?” you asked with surprise while you looked down at your feet, trying to avoid those magnetic eyes of J Robert Oppenheimer.

“Yes. I am afraid so” he confirmed, which is when you finally managed to look at his face again. His eyes were clouded with indescribable emotions and, clearly, so were yours.

“I understand” you eventually confirmed nervously. “Sunday it is but, since the university facilities will be closed, we will need to meet somewhere else” you managed to point out while your eyes began to water slightly from the overwhelmingness of everything that just happened, making you look like a fool.

Dr Oppenheimer, of course, noticed and his face changed from indiscernible to concern once more.

“You will do just fine Miss Y/LN. I have no doubt about it” he reassured you before suggesting the library as a meeting place which meant that, unbeknownst to him, you would have had to copy your calculations from your big chalkboard in your room to several pieces of paper.

“How about the Chevalier residence instead?” you thus suggested, causing Robert to furrow his eyebrows.

“I do not consider this to be a good idea Miss Y/LN. It would be highly inappropriate” Dr Oppenheimer pointed out, but you interrupted him.

“Haakon and Barbara are in San Jose for the weekend. You are friend of them both, so I have no doubt that they wouldn’t mind you visiting me in their absence. That is, of course, if your wife allows it” you explained with a little smirk on your face and your sudden sense of confidence surprised Dr Oppenheimer.

“My wife too, is away, staying with her mother for the time being” he explained before agreeing to your suggestion, but you would not just leave it that.

“Did you and your wife have a fight?” you asked out of curiosity, which is when Dr Oppenheimer shook his head and chuckled.

“We always fight, but that is not the reason. She is staying with her mother because I am busy and am travelling a lot these days and she needs help with our son, Peter” he then explained before stepping away from you again, increasing the gap between you.

“Now, I am afraid, I must go. I have another pressing engagement this evening” he told you and you had a sneaky suspicion that your professor was making the most of the time his wife was away.

“No doubt you do, professor. I shall see you on Sunday” you said with a slight chuckle, seeing that you already knew about his numerous affairs, including his on and off relations with Jean Tatlock.

Robert’s POV

It was later that same day, at around 8 o’clock that Robert went to a place that he had not visited in about three weeks, namely the apartment of Jean Tatlock’s in downtown San Francisco.

Ever since meeting you, he avoided her and whilst he did so subconsciously, he gave it some thought after Jean had addressed the fact that he had been ignoring her calls.

After almost three weeks, she now expressed a great desire to see him again and, considering her poor mental state, Robert reluctantly agreed.

As always, Robert brought her flowers which she disposed of rather quickly and just as she asked him inside, Robert began to explain to her that he was not there to see her for the usual reasons.

This was meant to be his final visit and he knew that, by ending their affair, he would likely break her heart. She would be devastated and that was something that concerned him a lot.

“I am not here for that Jean” Robert thus said just as Jean attempted to kiss him in a haste while pulling against his tie and suit jacket.

“And yet, you finally answered my call. Why?” she asked almost angrily, rolling her eyes before pushing Robert aside and pouring herself a drink. Clearly, she was confused and Robert had to provide an explanation to her.

“Because we need to talk Jean. This has been going on for far too long” he told her while adjusting his tie and jacket again. His facial expression was more serious than usual and that, in itself, concerned Jean.

“Oh my god Robert, after all those years you want to end it?” she asked as tears shot into the corners of her eyes. She shook her head in disbelieve and then smashed the glass she was holding onto the hard wooden floor, spilling her drink along with it.

“Jean, please…” Robert said calmly, trying to console her by reaching for her hands, but Jean pulled away.

“There is someone else, isn’t there?” she asked angrily, causing Robert to sigh deeply.

“I am a married man Jean, so yes, there is someone else, my wife” Robert tried to explain but Jean shook her head angrily and pointed her finger at him.

“No Robert! I am not talking about your wife and neither are you” she said sternly as slowly, but surely, her emotions got the better of her. She began to yell at Robert and, seeing that Jean was so upset, he did not know what else to say to her. He was lost for words.

“Who is she?” she then wanted to know and this is when she received yet another response from her lover that both, confused her and made her fume with rage.

“She is a woman who will help me change the world” Robert acknowledged somewhat reluctantly, causing the tears in her eyes to increase rapidly.

“You know that I love you, Robert. In fact, I never stopped loving you even after you married Katherine" she pleaded while trying to comprehend the situation. For years, Robert had maintained his affair to Jean even after he married Kitty and now this was going to be over because of someone else?

"And I have loved you too, but you have destroyed that love for me Jean. You pushed me away repeatedly and now I am finally it. I moved on” Robert said a little too honestly and with a lack of emotion in his voice, causing Jean’s reaction to worsen.

"I have said I was sorry, Robert!” Jean screamed almost hysterically while stepping one step towards Robert and pushing her hands against his chest, forcing him against the wall.

“So am I Jean. I truly am” he told her while cupping her face. Her tears were clouding her eyes and he sealed her faith with one final kiss before leaving her apartment for the last time, until she would call him again several months later.

Note: Unlike in real life, Jean will not kill herself in this fic. In fact, she will reappear in a few later parts, causing some havoc for the reader.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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[lacontroller1991]

My Lips on Yours (J. Robert Oppenheimer x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Misc Master List

requested by @forgottenpeakywriter :can you write something where reader and oppie have been dating for a while and they share their first kiss

DISCLAIMER: This is clearly based off of Cillian Murphy's Oppenheimer. If this bothers you just scroll on.

Warnings: Language, kissing, drinking, smoking, slight mention of sex

Word Count: 1.3

----------

You can remember the day like it was yesterday. Robert had shown up to your house, bouquet of flowers in his hands and a formal invitation asking you out. You, of course, had instantly said no. Being close family friends with Lawrence gives you a certain insight on some individuals, including Robert Oppenheimer. Lawrence had explicitly told you ‘stay away from him,’ but it’s hard to avoid Oppenheimer when he’s everywhere you go. 

Even though you told him no the first time he asked you out, it sure didn’t stop him. He showed up to your doorstep again, a new bouquet of flowers and had asked the same question ‘would you like to have dinner with me’, to which you again said no. 

It took almost two weeks of him constantly asking you day by day for you to say yes, despite your friends all warning you. 

By the time you started dating you had to admit to yourself, it was honestly not that bad. In fact, you and him went on another, and another, and another until almost three months have passed. 

Despite having dated for a few months now there's still something that you and him haven’t done. You haven’t kissed each other. Don’t be mistaken, you and him have had sex. Lots of it. But you and Robert have not kissed each other on the lips and it’s honestly irritating.

Seeming to pick up on your annoyance, your colleague looks up at you from across the table in the library. “Something the matter?”

You turn your attention to your classmate and let out a huff. “Just annoyed.”

“About?”

You close your book and set it down onto the table. “It’s been over three months and we still haven’t kissed. It’s just been bothering me. Why hasn’t he kissed me? Did I do something wrong? Am I unappealing? Is he just using me? What am I doing wrong?” You place your head in your hands in frustration as your friend flicks their eyes above you to see a pair staring back before the person scurries away. 

“You’re doing nothing wrong. Maybe he’s just not ready for that kind of commitment.” Your friend tries to soothe you but it’s a hard feat.

“That wouldn’t make sense though. We’ve done things. He kisses me everywhere except my face. It just makes me feel like he’s using me for my body and that he doesn’t really care for me.” Your friend nods in response, rubbing a soothing hand on your back.

“I’m sure he does. He’s just weird like that. You knew that when you started dating him.” The comment makes you laugh slightly as you wipe away a stray tear before opening your book back up.

“Lawrence did try to warn me.”

“That he did. Let’s get back to studying.”

----------

“Dr. Oppenheimer?” The sound of his name being called stirs Oppenheimer’s concentration from his desk of papers and causes him to look up to see Alvarez standing in the doorway, awkwardly shifting his weight.

“What is it Alvarez?”

“Can I tell you something that might be awkward?” Robert motions to the seat in front of his desk and takes a puff from his pipe, waiting for Alvarez to continue. “So I know you’re seeing (Y/N) but I feel like you should know that (Y/N) is getting frustrated that you guys haven’t… kissed.” Silence.

“Where did you hear this?” 

“I overheard her telling this to her friend.” Robert pushes away from his desk and places the papers in his briefcase, exhaling a plume of smoke before snuffing out his pipe.

“Thank you, Alvarez, for letting me know. You can see yourself out.” Alvarez quickly nods and rushes away, cheeks flushed from the embarrassment of the topic at hand. The minute Alvarez gets out of sight Robert leans back into his chair, staring off to the distance. If you’re bothered by him not kissing you, he wonders what else you’re bothered with.

----------

Sharp knocks on the door disrupt you from your studying. Getting up from your seat you stride towards the door, swinging it open to reveal Robert on the other side, flowers in his hands. “Good evening darling.”

“Robert? I wasn’t aware that you’re coming. Do we have a date tonight?” He brushes past you and sets the flowers on your doorway stand before hanging up his coat and hat while you watch on in confusion.

“Do I need to have an appointment to see you?”

“Well, no, but I also wasn’t expecting you. If I’d known that you were coming I would’ve cooked something.” He waves his hand and steps further into your house towards the kitchen, instantly fixing himself and you a martini. 

“Nonsense. I can make us something.” Now you’re really confused. You have never heard of Robert cooking. In fact, you’re not even sure if he knows how to, given the fact that he’s so thin. You’ve always just assumed that his diet is cigarettes, martinis, coffees and the occasional cookie that he would always steal from your lunch box or even Lawrence’s. 

“Ok, Robert. What are you doing here?” He turns around and hands you the martini, a smile on his face as he takes your arm and guides you to the couch. 

“I heard something and I want to run it by you.” His admission has your heart racing. What on earth could it be that he just had to show up to your house? Nodding your head for him to continue, his blue eyes pierce yours. “I heard that you expressed some discourse about the fact that we haven’t properly kissed.”

The comment made you spit out your drink. “What?”

“Alvarez overheard you telling your friend that you’re upset that we haven’t kissed properly, so I’m here to change that.” Why this arrogant bastard. 

“You’re a jerk Robert,” you move to stand up but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back down, setting your drinks of the coffee table before taking your face in his hands. 

“No, no. Hear me out.” You want to pull away but you also want to hear him out. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you, I just didn’t know when a good time would be or if you even wanted to.”

“Let me counter that point. Why wouldn’t I? We’ve been seeing each other for months now and we still haven’t done something so mundane.” He shakes his head, one thumb running over your cheek while the other hand pets your hair.

“I don’t want it to be mundane. I want it to be magical. With the… parameters… of our relationship I never knew when the good time was to kiss you, but now I know.”

“You could’ve always asked, you know?” He chuckles in response, his eyes staring into yours as your bodies move ever so closer together. 

“Well (Y/N). May I kiss you?”

“No.” Your answer is a sharp slap to Robert’s face and he begins to pull away but your hands reach out to his face. “Of course you can, you silly idiot.” He smiles like an idiot before closing the gap between the two of you, your lips molding together like they were meant for each other. Your hands grab onto his blazer and hold him close as his tongue sweeps along your bottom lip asking for access. Opening your mouth, you let out a little whimper as he explores you. There’s now a tangible layer of intimacy between you and Robert now and it’s dizzying. You feel lightheaded, like you’re drunk. Maybe you’re drunk on him, but whatever it is, it is way better than you imagined.

The two of you remain in each other’s embrace for a minute before he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours as the two of you try to catch your breaths. “How was that?”

“That was… something else.” He chuckles, his thumb tracing your swollen parted lips. “Do it again.”

“Now that I know, I don’t intend to stop.”

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Perhaps a oneshot of oppie experiencing possessiveness and jealousy for the first time which could turn him into a desperate man in a way?

I’m curious to see how you would explore that because Oppie was a womanizer and I feel like that does not come with the possessiveness and jealousy.

Warnings: jealousy, slight misogyny, age difference, some fluff, Robert’s pov

-thank you for the request, hope you enjoy lovie

The town gathered near a restaurant by the ocean, celebrating our success with the testing of the atomic bomb. 

The weather was warm, crickets chirping while I walked hand and hand with my wife Y/N, the wind bellowing through the blades of grass.

She was rather stunning, wearing a simplistic black dress, her hair tied up professionally with a hint of makeup. Though I preferred her natural self, she still had a way of radiating and capturing the attention from any room she set foot in.

Before we were too far past the door way, a man approached her, offering to buy her a drink. I didn’t think anything of it at first, wishing for her to simply enjoy herself on a beautiful night like tonight.

As I carried on in conversation with strangers I hardly knew, time seemed to pass, and I glanced down at my watch realizing it had been nearly thirty minutes she’d been at the bar.

She never was a drinker, only having a light rum and coke every now and then, never went past a singular drink.

When I was about to excuse myself to go check on her, I stopped in my tracks, witnessing the scene unfold before my very own eyes. 

She was still there, the drink she ordered hardly touched still sitting on the bartop, while a man was smiling, failing at hiding the amber blush on his face. 

She was laughing harmoniously, completely intrigued by whatever the man was saying. He hadn’t touched her yet, but their proximity was far too close for me to be comfortable.

Her eyes connected with mine from across the room, perhaps in an attempt to see if I was noticing.

Containing my composure, another man walked toward me, wanting to discuss the physics aspect of my endeavors.

As he began talking, the words coming from him seemed to go in one ear and out the other, which was a shame due to my field of study, and knowledgeable suggestions.

I couldn’t stop glancing over, wanting nothing more to intervene, yet I didn’t. I was not a jealous man, nor controlling of my wife. I wanted to see her enjoy herself, see her socializing and putting in the time and effort for my successes as I do hers.

When he leaned in closer, whispering something surely inappropriate in her ear, I found myself becoming more and more concerned, the odd feeling of jealousy consuming my very being.

He was a young, wise man whom I had taught at the college, much closer to her age range, I hadn’t recognized him until now, it had been years since I’d seen him.

His name was James, and much to my dismay, they had grown to be very close friends. Yet for some odd reason I resonated with a profound feeling of jealousy, to which I’d never felt before.

I began to wonder if this was how my ex wife felt. Uncommon, and indescribable, I wasn’t sure if I should approach or watch from afar, as if I wanted to put my wife to the test.

Regardless, of how terrible that may sound there was no denying the longing, lusting gaze James portrayed to Y/N.

My stomach bubbled like a boiling pot with unease, unsure of what actions I should take if any. 

I kept my distance, trying to give my wife the benefit of the doubt and not wanting to appear as a jealous, controlling husband.

After a few moment she excused herself to the restroom, taking her purse along with her and I noticed he began to fix his hair in the mirror behind the bar, pulling what looked like to be breath mints from his pockets. Was he planning to kiss my wife in front of myself and everyone else in the room?

My thoughts ran ragged and before I knew it she was walking back from the bathroom and I found my feet wandering.

Approaching the bar, attempting to hide my concern, which I was not quite good at might I add. She hadn’t glanced in my direction, unknowing I was nearly almost beside here until I ran my hand down her arm, pulling her closely to my side with gentleness.

“Oh, sweetheart! James was just telling me how he traveled to Oxford. Did you know he can speak three different languages? Impressive isn’t it?” Temptation to wipe that grin off of his face washed over me like a freight train yet I resided, simply smiling kindly, holding my tongue.

“Please, you’re by far more intuitive than I ever will be. Robert I must tell you, you’re a lucky man, Y/N’s one hell of a woman.” He extended his hand to shake mine as I was stood there stunned by his words and the audacity to say it to my face in front of her.

As a man myself, I knew that very well to be code for “i’d fuck your wife if I could, if the opportunity were to arise” and here she was blushing next to me. I bit down on my tongue in aggravation, putting forth my best attempt at a friendly smile as I shook his hand.

I tried to convince myself that he never would be able to get his hands on my sweet Y/N but I couldn’t help to think of my swift way of words with women in the past and how easy it was to charm a woman, sometimes leading her on. I knew how James was operating and I refused to stay here and watch it any longer.

I stayed near her side, eventually ushering her back home, to where I desperately needed to be.

I was not an angry man, nor irrational and I refused to blamedher for any of it. Instead blaming myself for acting like an insecure, childish boy, knowing that perhaps she could do better than me, maybe she was settling out of fear of breaking my heart.

Walking into the bedroom, I shed myseld of my clothes and found myself, sitting on the bed replaying the interactions in my head, creating obscure scenarios of imagining my wife leaving me for a man more around her age, with similar interests. Pleasuring her, picturing her moans, and the different positions she could be in.

Hearing the bathroom door open, I lifted my weary head to find my wife standing there, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

In that moment I truly took in her extraordinary, delicate facial features, the way her body captivated a melodic, shining aura of kindness, and attractiveness.

She was magnificent, and the thought of possibly losing her shattered my heart, a feeling I’d never worried about with past lovers.

Without saying a word, she examined my desperate, saddened state and took a seat next to me on the bed, reading me like a book she’s read a trillion times.

“What’s wrong love? You only trace your wedding ring when something is on your mind. Did I do something wrong?” I immediately stopped her, insisting it was nothing she did, but moreso my thought process of others actions.

My chest felt heavy, a sour, bitter taste of jealousy settling on my tongue, unknowing of how to cope with such a strong sense of discomfort, and fragility.

“You’re my wife and I suppose I can tell you anything.” I reached with shaking hands, intertwining ours together in worry and desperation when she nodded with concern for me to continue.

“Seeing you with James tonight, I can’t help but think that I’m at risk of losing you. He’s charismatic, charming, shares similar interests. I also know that he’s more around your age, and for the first time in my life I feel weak, and worried that I’m not the right partner for you.” A wave of relief washed over my chest, but I found myself scared for her response. What if I was right? Nor did I want her to spare my feelings. I knew I was acting out of my usual character, and the revelation that I could feel such insecure jealousy caused me a great discomfort.

Her angelic eyes surmised with concern, but spoke with sincerity as her fingers caressed mine devotionally.

 “Darling. I don’t care about James, if he thought he was getting anywhere with me well, he is sadly mistaken. I’d never leave you for him. I love you and only you, okay?” Her soft hands rubbed my back soothingly, her eyes speaking with valid sincerity and admiration yet that wasn’t enough for my concern to dissipate.

I was holding James to a standard that I once was. Though I may not have held the confidence and ego he did, I knew the way to a woman’s heart, those soft spots that would make them weak at the knees.

“Y/N, we both know with my past I have no right to complain. He knows my past, the whole world does. I know it must be hard for you to deal with me. I’m not exactly a perfect husband. I’d never cheat on you and I have changed, but I still feel undeserving of your love and the immense amount of patience you have with me. You can’t tell me you’ve never bared the concern of me being away from home.” Even with my complaints and assumptions she still held her composure, not one raising her voice at me. If anything lowering her tone to a monotone of ease and grace.

She spoke with the utmost clarity, and honesty, almost like she didn’t even have to think before speaking.

“No I haven’t love. I really haven’t. Who would I be as a wife to hold your past against you? Each day we grow, we learn, and you sitting here speaking with me in this way tells me all I need to know. Most men don’t come to their wives with their problems and I’m grateful you do. Love’s a funny thing and I’ve always lived by when you know, you know and I’ve never had that desirable feeling until I met you Robert. Excuse my language but fuck what anyone else thinks. I love you and only you, since the day you stopped me in the pouring rain outside that cafe to help me pick up my books that got ruined and you remember what you did?” A small, delicate smile formed on my face, reminiscing back to the first day I met my endearing wife.

She was running late to her class and had been running on little to no sleep. She vented about how her alarm didn’t go off, and the coffee shop accidentally gave her the incorrect order and was worried the professor would be upset.

I calmed her down to the best of my ability, even buying her a quick breakfast and offered to drive her there, refusing to allow this beautiful women to walk in the pouring down rain.

The next time I saw her was in my class room. Physics wasn’t her strong suit but she never gave up, never afraid to ask for help. I ended up buying her a new set of books, ensuring they were first edition with a notes section and helped her after class. Our bond became strong, growing more and more every day until I finally asked her on a formal dinner date after she graduated. The rest is history.

“I do, I do. My love. I want to apologize for tonight.” My hand reached for a wild strand of her silk hair, brushing the smooth texture behind her ear, getting lost once more in her bright, loving eyes as I’ve done many times.

She shook her head as if I didn’t need to apologize but I carried on.

“I acted foolishly and I should have just pulled you aside there and then to voice my concern. Now I bid the question, will you forgive me for my childish actions and thoughts?” She giggled, settling her warm hands on my cheeks and leaning in, connecting her smooth velvet lips with me in a desirable manner, deepening the kiss with the utmost love.

“You’re forgiven my darling. Just please talk to me from now on with any concerns. I’m here for the long run and if I recall we have an unfinished puzzle sitting at the table. What do you say I put on some tea and we see if we can finish this thing tonight snd then perhaps make sweet love after?” She hadn’t need to say anymore. I followed her in all her wonderous beauty, reaching up to the shelf she couldn’t reach, bringing the tea down for her as I went off to start a fire in the dining room.

We took our usual seats under the dim light of the tabletop lamp, carrying on in casual conversation as I made jokes she didn’t understand, and she expressed details of the newer books she’d been reading. Things felt normal, as if nothing happened tonight, and I found myself falling more and more in love with my beautiful wife with each passing second. She truly was a diamond in the dust, and I’m beyond grateful for her every day and that with opportunity I had the chance to put a diamond on her finger, forever indebted to her forgiving, patience, and strength.

[ourladyofoldgotham]

nightfall

j. robert oppenheimer x female reader

implied adultery, set during manhattan project

prompt by @forgottenpeakywriter

1.1k words

summary

You meet the illustrious Dr. Oppenheimer at the Los Alamos Christmas party. He asks you for a dance.

Los Alamos isn’t a socialite’s paradise, but looking around Fuller Lodge decorated for the annual personnel Christmas party, they almost could have fooled you.

A band was playing - turns out Los Alamos had a lot more musicians than you had thought - and the soft bustle of the room’s chatter rises up to the tinsel garland draped over the ceiling’s wooden beams. The electricity was always down in the evenings, and the water from the tanker trucks was in short supply, but for tonight, candles and liquor more than made up for it. 

You see him from across the room, standing at the counter. Doctor Oppenheimer is not a particularly loud man, nor a particularly imposing one. Still, there’s an air about him that seems to draw people in. He looks up and meets your gaze from across the room, and his blue eyes in the low light strike you like a bullet. You’ve heard about a million stories about him in the time that you’ve been here - you’ve heard he’s a genius of the highest degree, of course, but that’s practically a given. According to the rumors that flew through the town, he was also a Communist, a millionaire, a homewrecker, and a man that had left a trail of cultish devotion behind him in every university doing any real work in theoretical physics everywhere from Cambridge to California. You hadn’t believed a word of him until you’d met him in person. He seemed to be around every corner, in every lab, his brilliance the undercurrent at every turn. There was a sort of hypnotism that surrounded him, something that you had never seen before. You, like all the rest, were only human. Nobody could help falling under its spell. In the crowd, you lose sight of him.

It’s not until the night starts to draw to a close that you encounter him again. He startles you, tapping you on the shoulder. The light is low, scattering dim light across the wooden floor. The band plays some soft, pretty jazz tune you’re sure you’ve heard before. 

“Are you new to the Hill? I don’t think I recognize you.”

He extends his hand to you, and you shake it. 

“J. Robert Oppenheimer. I’m not sure we’ve had a chance to meet.”

You introduce yourself and his eyes glimmer with a slight touch of recollection. 

“I recognize that last name. Were you at Berkley? Caltech?”

You laugh and shake your head. 

“No, you must be thinking of my husband. He was one of Professor Lawrence’s graduate students there.”

“Of course. I don’t think I could have forgotten a face like that.”

He smiles at you over the rim of his glass. 

“Let me make you a drink.” 

You lean against the edge of the counter as you watch him make a martini, rimmed in lime and honey with extra gin. 

“So where did you go to school? I know your husband works in the E-5 group, but I could swear I’ve seen you in the labs.”

“Harvard - for chemistry, summa cum laude. I wasn’t able to complete my master’s, though - we moved out here just a couple months before I would have finished. I worked under Hornig in plutonium chemistry as a lab assistant for a while, but now I’m just a courier in the library group.”

“Ah, one of Lilli’s plutonium girls. It’s important work you do, you know.”

“What, to drive back and forth from a mailbox all day with a suitcase of old books locked to my wrist like a pack mule?”

He laughs in a way that’s almost disarming, the charismatic Oppie of legend. 

“A pack mule with one of the highest military security clearance levels in the country. It has to count for something.”

He hands you your drink. It’s strong, almost dizzying in the high altitude of top of the cocktails you’d already had. He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes studying you with an emotion you can’t quite decipher.

“Do you recognize this song?”

You shake your head.

“I’m certain I’ve heard it before, but I can’t quite place my finger on it.”

“Ah, of course. It’s quite popular, but it’s not as in vogue as it used to be. It’s called Nightfall - by Benny Carter. I saw him play live once, under Henderson at the Roseland in New York. Quite brilliant men, actually - I believe Henderson was a graduate student at Columbia in chemistry briefly.”

He pauses again, considering something. His eyes flit across the diamond ring on your finger as it wraps around the stem of your glass.

“Has your husband gone home yet? I don’t see him anywhere.”

“Oh, yes, doctor. Hours ago. He doesn’t dance - and he figured I could make it back home on my own.”

“I see. Do you? Dance, I mean.”

“When I can - which hasn’t been often lately. And where is Mrs. Oppenheimer tonight?”

“She’s… She’s visiting her family in Pennsylvania. Los Alamos has never suited her.”

You watch him rub the silver wedding band on his finger, a sudden flash of tension skimming across his face. 

“And what about you? Do you dance, Dr. Oppenheimer?”

The question snaps him out of his reverie, and he smiles softly. 

“Please, call me Robert. And as a matter of fact, I do. May I have the pleasure of this one?”

He extends his hand to you, and you take it. 

“You may.”

He leads you out to the dance floor. He’s old-fashioned, almost gentlemanly - his hand rests delicately on your waist, in classic ballroom fashion. The two of you are practically the only people in the room, now - he leads you in a slow foxtrot around the room. There’s something soft in his eyes when he looks into yours that makes you feel like the only woman in the world.

When the last note of the song rings out, the two of you are standing in the center of the floor. Your head rests on his shoulder, your clasped hands pulled in close. His hand is warm on your waist through the thin fabric of your dress. 

It’s hardly the picture of propriety. The scandal of an affair between the two of you would be enormous. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to care. Not now - not with him, dancing like this in the cool desert night. The rising moon drips silver light across the floor. With a flick of his hand, Robert signals to the band for just one more song.

couldn't resist the chance to flex my very minor jazz knowledge

[floralcyanide]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 - 𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧!𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫

cillian!oppenheimer x gn!reader

disclaimer: this is a work of fanfiction. cillian's representation of oppenheimer is also fictional to a degree. if you dislike this kind of fanfiction, please keep scrolling and do not interact with this post. otherwise, have a lovely day. ♥

warnings: depression, lack of communication.

word count: 996

author’s note: please read the disclaimer several times if you must before you decide to comment something snarky or send a dense anonymous ask. (: anyway, I wrote this the other day at work after seeing the movie again. I hope everyone who does read this enjoys it.

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

Despite the face Robert put on for his acquaintances and the world, he was terribly depressed and disturbed about what he created.

He hasn’t eaten much since the bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and sleep has been hard for him to come by. Robert won’t so much as look at you anymore. You understand where he’s coming from, and try to be patient. But it’s hard with him coming home every day and not saying a single word to you. Even harder when you’re packing your things to move away from Los Alamos without conversation. The day you move into the new house, you finally reach your breaking point.

You’re wiping the glasses out with a towel before placing them gently into the cupboard, humming a tune. Robert is unpacking your China dishes, and his hand slips, causing him to drop one accidentally. You stop humming. Your body visibly tenses at the sound of the delicate ceramic ware shattering on the floor. Robert freezes and bends down to pick up the pieces.

You close your eyes, exhaling slowly to release your tension, “Robert.”

He says nothing, still picking up the larger dish pieces and looking around for a broom.

“Robert?” you call again, putting down the towel and cup you were cleaning off.

Still no answer.

“Where is that damn broom?” Robert mumbles.

“Robert!” you snap, turning around sharply to face him, finally having enough.

He sighs, slowly standing up from his kneeling position, broken ceramic in his hands. He turns to you, his eyes not meeting yours.

“Look at me,” you say sternly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Robert will flick his eyes over yours and your face but won’t let them settle on your gaze completely. He then realizes tears are streaming down your face.

“Sweetheart, I can buy a new set-“

“I’m not worried about the China dish,” you shake your head, wiping your tears away with the heel of your hand.

Robert nods, studying the room before he spots the broom, walking over and grabbing it. He begins to sweep up the dust and smaller dish fragments, still not looking directly at you. You stand there, arms crossed, as you glare at the man you love.

“If you don’t look at me right now,” you say through gritted teeth, “I will walk out of that door and never come back.”

Robert’s blue eyes immediately shoot up to look at yours, and his face softens, “Don’t.”

You tilt your head sideways, taking in the emotions behind his eyes that he hides so well from everyone- everyone but you. Which is why you know he refuses to look at or speak to you.

“Then talk to me,” you say softly, “You know you can tell me anything, Robert.”

He shakes his head, “I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you press your fingers to your temples, stepping around still-packed boxes until you finally reach where your husband is sweeping.

“I would never,” Robert frowns, and you just look at him.

“You aren’t telling me something, and keeping it from me is lying.” 

Robert finishes sweeping the mess up and looks at you defeatedly, “Fine.”

When things go wrong, you and Robert always mend it. And you do that by drawing a bath and sharing a bottle of wine, your favorite vinyl playing softly in the next room. Every time whatever needs to be worked out always turns out okay by the time the bath water is ice cold.

Robert is lying behind you, smoking his pipe as you press your back against his chest. It’s quiet except for the music coming from the turntable in the bedroom and the occasional drip from the faucet.

“Talk to me, love,” you rest your head on Robert’s shoulder, peering up at him.

He traces his fingers through your hair, looking down at you through his eyelashes.

“I just…” Robert trails off, “It’s been difficult.”

“I know,” you say softly, “But you can talk to me. Why won’t you talk to me? Or look at me?”

Robert places a hand on your cheek, pulling your face to his and pressing a delicate kiss to your lips before answering.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” Robert sighs, “For what I’ve done.”

“I don’t hate you, and I never could,” you furrow your eyebrows, looking Robert in the eyes closely.

He nods, “But I could. I do.”

“Don’t hate yourself for what you’ve created. What the government did- that’s not your responsibility. You’re valid for wishing it were Germany instead. What they did, it’s inexcusable,” you run your thumb over the structure of Robert’s face tenderly, “Japan isn’t your fault.”

Robert let’s put an empty laugh, “Then why does it feel like it is?”

Your frown, “You tore a hole in the fabric of the universe,” you say, holding Robert’s face firmly in your hands, “But you didn’t destroy it.”

Robert searches your eyes for any speck of falsehood but finds nothing. 

“I love you, and you can always talk to me, okay?” you say.

“I know,” Robert says, “I just get too inside my head.”

“And what a wonderful place it is to get stuck,” you smile, “Just know when to pull away. And if you can’t, I’m here to lend a hand.”

“I love you too, my gem. Thank you.”

“Never a problem,” you relax back into the cooling water, head against Robert’s chest.

The two of you lay there until the water is freezing and your glasses of wine empty. The two of you curl up in bed, warm and cozy. Robert holds you as close to him as physically possible, stroking your skin to lull you to sleep. And that night, he finally sleeps and isn’t plagued with nightmares of you leaving him. He doesn’t care if the world or history hates him because as long as you love him, the hole he tore in the universe doesn’t seem so big.

taglist:

@baizzhu @queenshelby @orijanko @raineeace @savagemickey03 @langdons-slut @shynovelist @mypoisonedvine @darkmoviesquotespizza @babybluebex @madlittlecriminal

[ghast1yghosts]

steve and eddie fuck to cope with all the shit they’ve been through and seen.

it doesn’t mean anything, they don’t talk about it—it just happens from time to time. its not nice and not overly gentle. it’s just both of their pent up energy coming to a head.

they’re best friends and it doesn’t change that, so when each of them start to catch feelings that start to teeter into frightening territory—they begin to distance themselves from the other.

it sucks, they hate it.

eddie makes up excuses about band practice and dnd planning. steve makes up excuses of fake dates and work shifts.

despite the best effort, it doesn’t work. if anything, it makes it worse.

they have a night to themselves, robin bailing last minute.

it starts out the same as always. with slow movements towards each other. fingers brushing, moving close till their thighs touch.

then quickly encompassing of the other, hot mouths and determined wandering hands.

its the same, but its different. it slows down, like they’re savoring it, like it’s the last time to touch and feel whatever this is between them.

the different becomes overwhelming. its not the same—and they both know it.

they just think it’s the last time to have this.

steve doesn’t move, still breathing deeply, just looking at him.

“please,” he whispers, “i just want to be loved. even if it’s not real. just this once, i want to feel what it’s like to be loved.”

big hands cup eddie’s face, brushing away a tear that escaped down his cheek.

“i love you,” is all he hears before he’s kissed again, languid and deep, soft and hard.

eddie has half the mind to say it back, an unspoken question from the answer to his own.

its not the same.

its not rough, it’s not harsh.

its soft, it’s tender. it’s loving.

it’s making love.

as corny as it sounds, it’s what he imagines making love would be like.

they both think it’s one sided.

they pour every ounce of love and devotion they carry for the other into the moment.

but,

they wake up tangled together. and they stay like that.

basked in warmth, they try to hang on to the night just for a second more.

when they say i love you, it’s not because they’re half asleep, it’s because they mean it.

and when steve comes back to bed and pecks eddie’s cheek, they both share a look—as if to realize and solidify that yeah, this is real.

[mrs-bucky-barnes106]

we saw oppenheimer at 12:00 with a black coffee and barbie at 4:30 with a diet coke like the lord intended

[darkshelbyfiction]

Debt Paid (Thomas Shelby Blurb)

Warning: Non-Con, Virginity Loss, CNC

It was a Friday afternoon when you were sent to Thomas Shelby's office in Birmingham and you felt like lamb led to the slaughter, ready to be devoured whole. Your father's debts had piled up high – so high it blackened your mother's delicate complexion and buried your little brother's innocence from a pauper's upbringing. 

You had to settle these debts with nothing less than your innocence and purity. That is why you stood at the threshold of Thomas Shelby's office, your whole being shivering, your lungs collecting dust instead of air.

You could see that Shelby's office exuded rich mahogany furniture, intricately crafted wooden carvings on the walls, and large floor-to-ceiling windows offering views of Peaky Blinders territories below. Yet, despite the grandeur, it reeked of death and decay. Much like Shelby himself.

You stepped inside, softly like a cat, skulking into his presence.

Shelby looked up from the ledgers he was looking over, his dark hair falling into his piercing eyes. He was an intimidating sight, with a muscular frame and an air of authority that surrounded him like a cloak. You felt yourself shrinking before him, wishing you could be swallowed up by the large Turkish rug beneath your feet.

"You are quite a picture of innocence, eh" he said almost aggressively, causing you to shiver. "Come closer, Love," he ordered and you didn't move at first, rooted to the spot by fear and disgust.

"Please sir , I beg you not to do this. I will find another way, I promise." You said tearfully, uncertainty painted all over your face.

He didn't reply but rose from his seat, and you stumbled backward, trying to put distance between the two of you. But he moved swiftly, with a predator's grace, closing the space with each step.

He closed the door behind him and locked it, the metallic clatter of the key echoing in the silence that followed. Your heart hammered, fear gathering in your chest.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, squeezing your eyes shut as you walked towards his desk, shivering quietly. 

"Don't be sorry," he murmured back, so close behind you that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. You felt his hand on your shoulder, turning you around. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, terror written all over your face.

"Now, I don't have all day, so I need you to be a good girl and bend over my desk," Thomas Shelby ordered you , his voice cold and detached. The room spun around you as his powerful hands spun you roughly around. The air smelled of cigar smoke, whiskey, and beneath that, something you couldn't quite put your finger on—submission.

Thomas Shelby's office made you shudder, with its rich mahogany outfitting and the countless rows of books lining every available wall space. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the sprawling, prevailing Birmingham cityscape. It rendered you powerless beneath his iron grip, more vulnerable than ever.

"Please Mr Shelby. I don't - ," you whimpered, your voice wavering in desperation, but you were cut off by the gangster's hands who pushed you down against his Mahagony table.

"Sshh, quiet now," Shelby muttered darkly into your ear as he pushed you down, making you bend over against his desk. "Stay nice and still for me, Love."

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you began as you nodded in defeat while the much older man lifted up your skirt.

His calloused hands yanked your panties down your legs like a man possessed, causing you to wince in pain. His fingers found their way to your aching virgin hole causing you to stiffen and squirm beneath him. The sensation was foreign, as he slowly pushed his index finger into your dry hole.

"Fuck, Love. Your hole is so small," Thomas Shelby sneered as he continued to force his finger into you, drawing blood.  The smell of iron filled the room, but he didn't seem to care. His grasp tightened around your wrists, making you gasp at the pain.

A wave of disgust and shame washed over you as he pulled his finger out and wiped it on his handkerchief, before placing same on his desk. The white fabric was stained with blood — your blood.

You then heard the man undo his belt , followed by the loud sound of his zipper leaving you trembling as you waited for him to assault you. The clicking sound of his belt was oddly loud in your ears, and every second seemed to stretch on forever. The thought of what Shelby was about to do to you made you queasy, and the entire situation started to feel surreal.

He grabbed one of your thighs and pulled it towards him, taking his place between your legs. Thomas Shelby's erect manhood touched your behind, feeling hot and smooth against your porcelain skin.

"You know, I've been wanting to fuck you since the moment I laid eyes on you," Thomas Shelby growled before placing a hand on your cheek.

He then licked his fingers and slowly rubbed them against your dry pussy lips, wetting your hole with his spit.

"Good girl. Nice and quiet now ," Thomas Shelby whispered gruffly, positioning himself behind you and aligning his manhood with your tight entrance. "This might sting a little," he warned as his coarse, raw length poked delicately against you, teasingly. Your heart pounded in your ears as he began to apply pressure, pushing inside your dry hole without an inch of yourself prepared.

A sharp, painful intake of breath escaped your lips as Thomas Shelby finally entered you with a steady thrust. Your inner walls stretched wider than ever before as he drove himself deeper inside, your blood smeared on the tip of his shaft.

"That's it, Love. Fuck," he hissed, pulling back almost entirely and slamming harder into you. The sound of your bones meeting ripped through the room, obliterating any sensible thought. Every thrust was more excruciating than before.

Tears flowed freely from your eyes, staining the polished mahogany underneath you as you strained to break free, but Shelby kept you pinned in place, brutally pounding your aching, battered hole.

"You are so tight, Love. Bleeding all over my cock," Thomas Shelby groaned as he continued to ravage your inexperience.

With every piston-like drive, the pain intensified, yet your feminine core trooper on, responding to the intrusion with a rhythmic trembling.

And so it continued, Shelby plowing into your tightness like an untamed beast, indifferent to the silent wails you tried to silence. His crown hit your cervix with each thrust, making you feel like your insides were on fire, and your voice continued to grow louder, sobbing from the pain.

"Please, no more. It hurts, it hurts!" you cried, trying to escape the agony by inching away, but there was nowhere for you to go, caged and cornered by his overpowering presence.

"I am almost done Love!" He responded, like this was some sort of natural, everyday activity that you should be forced to put up with. Your pain seemed to excite him more, and his thrusting grew more vigorous and relentless. You were just a body to him, a hole to fill, a source of pleasure.

"Just hold still for me now so that I can fill you up with my cum, sweetheart," Thomas Shelby commanded hoarsely, his grunts and moans reaching a frenzied pitch. 

He took his time, savoring the sensation of your hot, wet pussy gripping him tightly. He closed his eyes and groaned, shuddering as he felt himself getting closer to reaching his orgasm.

"Fuck , yes, Love. I'm almost there. You're so fucking good," Thomas Shelby muttered through his gritted teeth, gripping your hips even tighter as, finally, he stilled.

He let out a low groan and you could feel the warm rush of his release as he filled you up, each spurt of his cum igniting another gasp of pain from you. He stayed there, buried deep inside you, as he caught his breath, before slowly pulling out.

You felt the mix of your blood and his cum drip down your thighs, leaving an undeniable mess on his expensive rug. Shelby stepped back, allowing you to stand up, wobbling on your feet. 

He then handed you his handkerchief and ordered you to 'clean up'. Numbly, you followed his instructions, your hands trembling as they tried to remove every stitch of him from your body. 

"Good girl ," Thomas Shelby commented, walking casually back to his desk and, after you finished cleaning yourself up, Shelby dismissed you with a flick of his wrist. "See yourself out," was all he said, as he returned to his papers, the loss of his attention sending you stumbling back to reality. Physically broken and emotionally decimated, the door slammed abruptly shut behind you.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Movie Night Gone Right

—

Time Written-8:55 p.m.

Jason Todd/Fem!reader smut

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“God, how on Earth did you hide being such a goddamn slut from me?” His seemingly angry tone of voice echoed throughout the limited space, calloused hands grasping onto your waist with a relentless, steel-like grip.

Date night would’ve been better if you both hadn’t decided on a god awful movie to watch at the theatre.

He told you to cut it out, at first, when your bored hand settled precariously along his thigh instead of reaching for popcorn. Even he wasnt dumb enough to do something that could easily be recorded on this shitty theatre’s night vision security cameras.

But no, you just kept on fucking pushing, kept teasing your fingers dangerously close to the buttons of his jeans, kept lightly teasing him when his self control withered at your syrupy sweet, annoying persistence.

“Get in,” he demands after yanking you out of the theatre early, somewhat grateful under all of his irritation that he had an excuse to leave the pain in the ass movie

“That’s fucking ridiculous, babe. You just can’t listen, can ya?” He chastised, forcing you in the passenger seat of his car.

Your back laid flat against the backseat after a short, risky drive, sweaty skin sticking to leather with your black skirt pulled over your thighs, his fat cock stuffed deep in your crying hole, bullying your insides with little remorse.

“Yeah? This what you wanted, huh babe? Being bred like a damn slut in the backseat?”

His nails dug crescent shaped moons into your hips, joining the handprints along your ass as temporary tattoos for the evening. He had half a mind to stop at three quick, chaste orgasms, but you didn’t exactly deserve mercy right now, did you?

Your belt bound hands could only settle against his broad chest, your nails scratching down his fully clothed body all you liked, leaving lipgloss smeared kisses against his chin as a pitiful attempt at an apology, anything to make him go just a teeny bit easier.

Nothing would stop him from abusing your cervix all he pleased, looming over you like a beast inside this rocking, semi-hidden car.

“No, no you’re not puttin’ your fucking panties back on after this, not after I give this pussy what it needs,” he grunts into your ear before biting your lobe, certain words punctuated by every angry, heavy slap of his balls against your plush, sore ass.

“I’m not done with you yet, pretty girl. You’re gonna sit in your own damn mess on the way home, and you’re gonna- Fuuuck, you’re gonna shove those little fingers up your pussy, an clean up the mess you made. Then I might forgive ya, understand Princess?”

You may or may not have pretended to listen the first time, your mind too lost in the mind numbing ecstasy of his cock prodding all the right spots, eager to be full of his thick cum.

“D’you understand me??” He gutturally questions again, yanking a fistful of hair to force your gaze on his flushed face, smirking devilishly at your open mouthed whimper.

“Y-Yes Sir!”

He chuckles handsomely against your cheek, expecting a full show once he was done filling up your cunt.

Maybe he’ll thank you for giving you both the perfect excuse to leave a dreadfully uneventful movie, but he couldn’t help being a sadist sometimes. Especially with his eager to please woman.

“Good girl.”

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Red Carpet Rush

Cillian Murphy x Wife Reader

Summary: Cillian and his wife get dressed and are about to leave but then temptation takes over.

Wordcount: 6.1k

Warnings:

Straight up smut with a plot but the plot is messy especially in the first act of it, but once the afterparty hits, that’s where the good shits at and there’s a lot of oral, especially for the female lolz, switch! Cillian, slightly perverted Cillian if you squint, breeding kink?…, messy towards the end?!,unsafe sex, f! overstimulating, m! & f! oral receiving and giving, handjobs, fingering, p in v, soft/dirty talk, aftercare.

Cillian adjusted his bow tie while looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, exhaling slowly as he contemplated the evening ahead. While the honor of a nomination thrilled him, the prospect of mingling at yet another social event filled him with a familiar sense of dread. Lost in his thoughts, a sudden, captivating sound broke through: the distinct click of heels on the tile floor. An intimate shiver coursed through him, stirring something deep within.

He turned, and there she was. His wife, a vision of elegance and allure, stood before him. The black lace gloves caressed her slender arms, the pearls he had gifted her gleamed softly against her skin, and then his eyes found the pièce de résistance—the dress. It clung to her curves in all the right places, a tantalizing blend of sophistication and seduction. His heart quickened, and a primal desire flared within him.

"Christ, love," he murmured, his voice thick with a blend of admiration and lust. "You look... absolutely breathtaking."

She smiled, a knowing glint in her eye as she sauntered closer, the sway of her hips almost hypnotic. Cillian's pulse raced as he reached out, his fingers grazing the delicate lace of her gloves.

"These gatherings might be a bore," he whispered, his Irish accent adding a lyrical cadence to his words, "but you, my dear, make them worth every bloody second."

She chuckled softly, leaning in to brush her lips against his cheek. "Just try to behave yourself tonight," she teased, her breath warm against his skin.

His eyes darkened with desire as he pulled her closer, his hands resting on her waist. "No promises," he breathed, his lips hovering near her ear. "Especially when you look like that. It's going to be a challenge keeping my hands off you."

She bit her lip, a playful glint in her eye. "Then I suppose we'll have to make the most of our time before we leave, won't we?"

Cillian gave her a perverted grin, he checked his watch the time reading five hours before the whole event. The look of hunger and absolute desire. Cillian’s fingers gently brushed her cheek, his touch feather-light but electrifying. He cupped her face with a tenderness that belied the fire in his gaze. Without a word, he leaned in, capturing her lips in an insanely intense and deep kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of years of shared moments, whispered secrets, and unspoken promises. His lips moved against hers with a practiced ease, as though he were memorizing every contour, every curve.

She responded in kind, her hands finding their way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the soft curls at his hairline. The world outside ceased to exist, the impending awards ceremony forgotten in the haze of their shared passion. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding. Cillian’s hands slid down to her waist, his grip firm but gentle as he lifted her effortlessly. He carried her to the bathroom counter, the cool marble contrasting with the heat of their bodies. He set her down with a careful precision, not breaking the kiss for even a second. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer. Cillian’s hands roamed her sides, tracing the lines of her dress with a reverence that made her shiver.

Breaking the kiss, he leaned back slightly, his breath coming in ragged pants. “God, yer beautiful,” he murmured, his Irish accent thick with emotion. His eyes raked over her, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. “Every time I look at ye, it feels like the first time.”

She smiled, a soft, knowing smile that spoke volumes. “You always know how to make me feel special, Cill,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of their hearts.

He kissed her again, softer this time, a promise of things to come. “I can’t help it,” he replied, his lips brushing against hers with every word. “Ye drive me mad, in the best way possible.” He trailed kisses along her jawline, down to the sensitive spot behind her ear. She tilted her head, giving him better access, a soft moan escaping her lips.

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against the silky fabric of her dress, sending a shiver down her spine. His breath was hot against her neck as he leaned in, his lips grazing her ear. "Yer lookin' ravishin', love," he murmured, his Irish accent adding a melodic lilt to his words. She turned her head slightly, catching his gaze with a playful smile, knowing full well the effect she had on him.

Cillian's hand moved to her back, the heat of his touch seeping through the thin material. He took his time, savoring the moment as his fingers found the zipper. With deliberate slowness, he began to pull it down, the sound of the zipper echoing in the room. Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip, feeling the fabric loosen and fall away from her shoulders. As the dress slipped down, revealing the delicate black lace straps of her lingerie, Cillian couldn't suppress a low, throaty moan. "Jesus Christ, darlin'," he breathed, his eyes darkening with desire. "Yer pullin' me leg, wearin' this for tonight..”

Her body reacted instantly, heat pooling low in her belly. She faced him her lips slightly parted in surprise. "Cillian," she breathed, a mix of admonishment and need in her tone. But he was relentless, his hands sliding around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His hands slid down to the bottom of her dress then reaching in.

He hooked his fingers around the front of her panties, pulling them down just enough to gain access. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world. She felt her breath catch in her throat, her body already responding to his touch. The intimacy of the moment, the way he looked at her, made her feel completely bare, exposed in the best possible way. As his thumb traced over her clit, his strokes were uneven, unpredictable. He kept her guessing, the rhythm changing just as she thought she could anticipate the next move. Her hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more pressure, more friction. He chuckled softly, the sound a low rumble in his chest.

“Ye like that, love?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper against her ear. The question was rhetorical; he knew the answer.

She could only nod, biting her lip to stifle a moan. His thumb pressed down a little harder, drawing circles that made her legs tremble. His other hand, resting on her thigh, squeezed gently, grounding her in the moment. She could feel the roughness of his palm, a stark contrast to the gentleness of his touch.

“Ye’re so responsive,” he continued, his voice laced with admiration. “I love seein’ ye like this.”

Her breath hitched as he slipped a finger inside her, the sensation both shocking and electrifying. He moved with a slow, torturous pace, curling his finger just enough to hit the right spot. She gasped, her hands clutching the bathroom counter beneath her. He added another finger, stretching her slightly, the feeling both overwhelming and exquisite. Cillian’s thumb continued its uneven strokes on her clit, building her arousal higher and higher. She felt the heat pooling in her belly, her body tightening in anticipation of release. His fingers moved in and out of her, the rhythm maddeningly slow. Each thrust, each curl of his fingers, was precise, designed to drive her wild.

“God, Cillian,” she breathed, her voice shaky. “Don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’,” he replied, his tone affectionate yet commanding.

He increased the pace slightly, his fingers moving faster now, his thumb pressing down harder on her clit. She could feel the pressure building, her body coiling tighter and tighter. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, and she cried out, her hands flying to his shoulders for support.

“Ye’re close, aren’t ye?” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. “I can feel ye tremblin’.”

She nodded frantically, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream. His fingers were relentless, driving her towards the edge with every stroke. She could feel herself teetering on the brink, the world narrowing down to the points where their bodies connected.

“Come for me, love,” he commanded softly, his voice like velvet. “Come on my fingers”

His words were her undoing. She shattered around him, her body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through her. Her cries filled the room, her hands gripping his shoulders with desperate strength. He kept moving his fingers, drawing out her pleasure, prolonging the ecstasy. As the waves of her climax subsided, she collapsed against him, her body spent and trembling. He withdrew his fingers slowly, carefully, and brought them to his lips, tasting her essence. The sight was almost enough to make her come again.

“Ye taste divine,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “I could do this all night.”

She smiled weakly, her body still humming with aftershocks. “You have no idea what you do to me,” she whispered.

He lay down beside her, pulling her close. “Oh, I think I do, love,” he replied, his eyes twinkling. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

However Cillian wasn’t done, lord she didn’t know what was coming to her.

As she leaned against the bathroom counter, her eyes focused intently on the mirror. Turning her back to the Cillian, she couldn't have anticipated the magnetic pull that Cillian always seemed to exert on her, a force of nature she was helpless to resist. Cillian stood just a few steps away, his eyes locked onto her reflection. He watched her with a mixture of admiration and raw desire, his gaze tracing the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, and the delicate lines of her neck. His eyes darkened as they moved lower, noticing the damp spot forming at the crotch of her panties.

"Love," he began, his voice thick with his Irish brogue and roughened by lust, "I can still see yer cunt drippin' through yer panties...still want more you needy slut..”

He moved closer, his hands finding her waist with practiced ease, pulling her against him. His touch was firm yet tender, the grip of a man who knew every inch of her body and reveled in its responses. He loved her hips, their gentle dips, and the promise of life they had carried. She had given him two beautiful children, and the thought of a third stirred something primal within him. Her breath hitched as she felt his hands slide around her body, cupping her hips. The heat of his palms seeped through the thin fabric of her dress, making her shiver in anticipation.

"Cillian," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, laden with need and anticipation.

"Shh, darlin'," he murmured against her ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. "Let me take care of ya."

His hands slipped under the hem of her dress, pushing it up and over her hips, exposing her to the cool air. She gasped, her body arching into his touch. Cillian's fingers found the edge of her panties once more, pulling them down slowly, savoring every inch of skin that was revealed like he didn’t just see it a minute ago.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned, his voice a husky whisper. His fingers slid through her folds, gathering her slickness before circling her clit. Her hips bucked against his hand, seeking more of his touch.

Her head fell back against his shoulder, her eyes closing as she surrendered to the sensations he was creating. Cillian's other hand moved to her breast, kneading the soft flesh through her dress, his thumb brushing over her nipple.

"Cillian, please," she begged, her voice trembling with need. "I need you."

"Aye, love," he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck. "I know."

He turned her around, lifting her onto the counter. Her legs spread instinctively, making room for him between her thighs. He knelt, his eyes locking onto hers as he kissed his way up her inner thigh.

"Yer gonna feel so good, darlin'," he promised, his voice a seductive purr.

His tongue flicked out, tasting her, and she cried out, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. He licked and sucked at her clit, his fingers teasing her entrance. Her body trembled, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving her.

"Fuck, Cillian," she gasped, her hips grinding against his face.

He groaned, the vibrations sending shivers through her. His fingers slid into her, filling her, and she moaned loudly. He curled his fingers, hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars.

"That's it, love," he murmured against her clit. "Come for me."

She shattered, her orgasm washing over her in waves. Her body tensed and shook, her cries echoing in the bathroom. Cillian didn't stop, prolonging her pleasure until she was a quivering, breathless mess. Cillian looked up at her from her messy cunt with a glimmer of mischief.

“I think you can come again..”

That’s a chill down her spine, knowing that Cillian always had something up his sleeve, especially when it came to pleasuring her. What in the world was he gonna make her go through. A lot.. there was going to be a mess happening in this bathroom… He began with a kiss, a soft press of his lips against her inner thigh, teasing and testing her patience. His tongue followed, tracing patterns on her skin, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. When he finally reached her center, his tongue darted out, a light flick against her most sensitive spot that made her gasp.

"Cill," she moaned, her voice a breathless plea that only spurred him on. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as his tongue delved deeper, exploring and tasting her with a fervent intensity. He alternated between slow, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks, his rhythm designed to drive her to the edge and keep her there.

Her hips bucked against his mouth, seeking more, but Cillian was relentless in his control. He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he watched her. "Not yet, darlin'," he whispered, his voice rough with need. "I want t' see ye come apart for me." His thumb joined the fray, finding her clit with unerring precision. He rubbed it in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just enough to push her higher but not enough to tip her over the edge. Her moans grew louder, filling the small bathroom with the sound of her pleasure.

"Cillian, please," she begged, her voice breaking on the words. Her body was a live wire, every nerve ending alight with sensation. He took pity on her then, increasing the pace of his thumb while his tongue continued its relentless assault. The combination was too much, too intense, and she felt herself hurtling towards the edge. Her climax hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with a force that left her breathless and trembling. Cillian held her through it, his movements never faltering as he guided her through the waves of pleasure. When she finally came down, he pressed a soft kiss to her thigh, his eyes filled with a quiet satisfaction.

It was his turn now…

With a slow, deliberate motion, he undid his belt with one hand, a practiced move that made her heart race. The sight of him undressing, so confident and controlled, always had a primal effect on her, stirring something deep and animalistic within. His fingers deftly unbuttoned his pants, the fabric slipping down his hips as he reached into his suit trousers. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, her breath hitching as she watched him pull out his already hard cock. The sight of him, so ready and eager, sent a wave of heat through her body.

"God, you always look so good when you take my cock," he murmured, his Irish accent wrapping around the words, making them all the more intoxicating. His voice was a low rumble, filled with a mix of lust and affection that made her pulse quicken.

She got off the counter and knelt before him, her eyes locked onto his throbbing cock. It stood proud and ready, glistening with pre-come that dripped tantalizingly from the slit. Her fingers wrapped around his length, the warmth of her touch making him groan softly. She marveled at how beautiful he looked, every inch of him demanding to be worshiped. Her thumb moved in slow, deliberate circles around the sensitive tip, drawing shaky breaths from Cillian. Occasionally, she traced the slit with precise precision, a motion that sent electric shivers down his spine and made his entire body tremble.

"Fuck, love, just like that," he muttered, his Irish brogue rough with desire.

She glanced up at him, her gaze meeting his. The raw need in his eyes spurred her on. She carefully took him into her mouth, just the tip at first, savoring the salty taste of him on her tongue. Cillian's hand reached out, gently grabbing a fistful of her hair. He was careful not to mess it up, but they both knew they had time to fix it if things got a bit wild.

"Christ," he breathed, his voice low and strained. "You're gonna be the death of me, y'know that?"

She responded with a soft hum, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure coursing through him. Slowly, she took him deeper, inch by inch, until he hit the back of her throat. His grip on her hair tightened, but he remained gentle, not wanting to hurt her. Her lips formed a perfect seal around him, and she began to bob her head, setting a steady rhythm that had him on the edge of control. His hips bucked involuntarily, and he had to force himself to stay still, to let her set the pace.

"Fuck, love, you're incredible," he rasped, his accent thickening with each word. "So bloody perfect."

She moved her hand to the base of his cock, stroking in tandem with her mouth, while her other hand cupped his balls, gently massaging them. Cillian's head fell back, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. Every so often, she'd pull back, just to the tip, and swirl her tongue around the head, teasing him until he was a trembling mess beneath her. Then, she'd take him deep again, her cheeks hollowing with the effort.

"You're too good at this, darlin'," he managed to say between gasps. "Gonna make me lose my mind."

She pulled back for a moment, her hand continuing to pump his length as she looked up at him. "That's the idea, love," she whispered, her voice sultry and filled with mischief. Cillian's breath hitched at her words, and he tightened his grip on her hair, guiding her back to his cock. "Then don't stop," he urged, his voice a low growl.

She obliged, taking him back into her mouth with renewed vigor. Her head bobbed faster now, her tongue working magic on his sensitive flesh. He was close, so close, and she could tell by the way his thighs tensed and his breathing became erratic.His hand slipped from her hair to her shoulder, gripping it tightly as he felt the familiar heat pooling in his groin. "Gonna cum, love," he warned, his voice strained. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

She didn't falter, her mouth and hands working in perfect harmony to push him over the edge. With a final, shuddering gasp, he exploded, his cum spilling into her mouth in hot, thick spurts. She swallowed every drop, her eyes never leaving his face as he rode out his orgasm. When he finally came down from his high, she released him gently, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his now-softening cock before standing up and facing the mirror. Cillian was still panting heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath.

Without a word, they both knew it was time to leave, but an electric current of unspoken desire lingered between them. As he fixed his bow tie in the mirror, he caught her reflection, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and the residue of their passionate encounter.

"Ready, love?" he asked, his Irish accent adding a lyrical lilt to his words.

She nodded, her lips curving into a knowing smile. They stepped out, and the ride to the Oscars was filled with a charged silence. Cillian's mind wandered, replaying the moments they'd just shared. His eyes traced the outline of her legs, imagining the softness of her skin under his fingers. He reached over, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, and she responded with a mischievous glance that promised more to come. The ceremony was a whirlwind of lights, cameras, and applause. Cillian's nomination had already put them in the spotlight, but the electricity between them added an extra spark to their evening. When his name was announced as the winner, he stood up, the room erupting in applause. As he made his way to the stage, he cast a glance back at her, the pride in her eyes filling him with warmth.

As the night progressed, they mingled with other celebrities, but their connection remained unbroken. They exchanged glances across the room, each one a silent promise. Finally, as the evening drew to a close, they slipped away, eager to return to the privacy of their home. Back in the car, Cillian's hand found its way to her thigh, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her skin. She shivered at his touch, her body already anticipating what was to come. They barely made it through the door before their lips met in a fervent kiss, the intensity of their need taking over. He pressed her against the wall, his hands roaming over her body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and contour.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about ye all night," he murmured against her neck, his breath hot and uneven.

Cillian chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as he moved them both onto their bed. His cock was already making a massive tent in his pants, a testament to his intense desire for her. She could feel it throbbing against her thigh, a constant reminder of the hunger that simmered between them.

"Baby, you looked so fuckin' good up there," she murmured.

His hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves he knew so well. She shivered under his touch, her own arousal mirroring his. Their eyes locked, and the connection between them felt almost tangible, a living, breathing entity that demanded attention. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of need, of passion, of a love that consumed them both. She responded eagerly, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him closer. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and the faint hint of whiskey from the after-party.

Cillian's hands moved to the zipper of her dress, slowly lowering it to reveal the smooth expanse of her back. He trailed kisses down her spine, each one igniting a fire that burned hotter and hotter. She arched against him, her body craving more of his touch.

"Ye drive me mad, y'know that?" he whispered against her skin, his breath hot and tantalizing.

She let out a soft moan, the sound sending a jolt of arousal straight to his groin. He moved her so she was beneath him, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. His hands slid under the dress, pushing it up and over her head, leaving her in nothing but her lacy undergarments. Cillian's breath was heavy, almost ragged, as his hands snaked towards her black lace panties. His fingers trembled with anticipation, a testament to his barely contained desire. As he reached the delicate strap that curved around her hip, he paused, savoring the moment, his eyes drinking in every inch of her form.

With a careful, deliberate movement, he hooked his right pointer finger around the strap. The lace was soft against his skin, a stark contrast to the intensity of his need. He tugged gently, the fabric yielding to his touch. He felt the tension in his own body mirrored in hers as he carefully removed the whole thing, the black lace sliding down her legs and finally off her feet.

He took in the sight before him, his heart pounding in his chest. God, she was so fucking beautiful, especially her dripping cunt, glistening in the dim light of their bedroom. His breath hitched, and he let out a low, reverent, “Fuckin’ hell…”

His voice was thick with awe and lust, the Irish lilt making the words sound even more intimate. He knelt between her legs, his eyes never leaving her face. He could see the desire burning in her eyes, matching his own. The connection between them was electric, a living, breathing thing that pulsed with every heartbeat. Slowly, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh. Her skin was warm, her scent intoxicating. He trailed kisses upwards, each one a promise of the pleasure to come. She shivered under his touch, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Ye’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, love,” he murmured against her skin, his voice low and husky. “Can’t get enough of ye.”

With a low growl, he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from her dripping cunt. The scent of her arousal filled his senses, driving him wild with desire. He could hear the raggedness of his own breath, could feel the blood rushing through his veins. He was consumed by the need to taste her, to feel her slick heat against his tongue. But he held himself back, his self-control warring with his primal instincts. He knew he needed to take things slow, to savor every moment with her. With a deep breath, he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting hers with a fierce intensity.

"Lie back for me, love," he whispered, his voice a gentle command laced with affection.

She complied, reclining onto the bed as he positioned himself between her legs. Without another word, he leaned in, pressing a series of soft, reverent kisses along her inner thighs. Each touch was a testament to his love and desire, a promise of the pleasure to come. His hands gently caressed her hips, holding her steady as he lowered his head to her sloppy dripping cunt. He began with slow, tender licks, his tongue exploring her folds with a gentle curiosity. The taste of her, the scent of her arousal, it drove him wild. He couldn't help but let out a low groan, the sound vibrating against her sensitive skin.

"Fuckin' hell," he muttered against her, the words barely audible but filled with raw desire.

His movements were unhurried, deliberate. He wanted to savor every moment, to make her feel cherished and adored. His tongue circled her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to draw soft moans from her lips. He relished in the sounds she made, each one a testament to his effect on her.

"You're so good to me, Cillian," she breathed, her hands threading through his hair, urging him closer.

He responded by increasing the intensity of his ministrations, his tongue moving with a fervor that matched the pounding of his heart. He could feel her hips bucking against him, her body trembling with the pleasure he was giving her. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as he continued his worship. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, and he knew she was close. He focused on her clit, alternating between flicks of his tongue and gentle suction, driving her higher and higher. He wanted nothing more than to see her fall apart, to know that he was the one who brought her to this peak.

When she finally came, it was with a cry of his name, her body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over her. He didn't stop, didn't let up, riding out her orgasm until she was a quivering, sated mess beneath him. He pressed a final, gentle kiss to her sloppy cunt before moving up to lie beside her. He gathered her in his arms, holding her close as she came down from her high. Cillian's eyes darkened with desire as he looked at her. His breath hitched, and his pulse quickened, the raw need evident in his gaze. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear, and whispered in a voice thick with longing, "I need you, darlin'."

She felt the heat of his words and the shiver of anticipation it sent down her spine. Her heart pounded in her chest as she leaned into him, her body responding to his unspoken desire. She reached around him, her fingers deftly undoing the zipper of his pants. The urgency of her movements matched the thrum of his heartbeat. As she freed him from the confines of his trousers, Cillian let out a low, throaty growl. The sound was primal, filled with a hunger that spoke of how deeply he needed her. He captured her lips in a fierce, passionate kiss, his hands roaming over her body, feeling every curve, every inch of her that drove him wild with desire.

Her hands moved with purpose, stroking him, feeling the heat and hardness that pulsed with his need. He broke the kiss, his breath ragged, and looked into her eyes, his own filled with a mix of love and desperation. "You're driving me crazy," he murmured, his Irish lilt adding a melodic quality to his words.

She smiled, a mix of affection and mischief dancing in her eyes. "I know," she replied, her voice soft and teasing. "And I love it."

Cillian's hands moved to her hips, guiding her against him. The friction of her body against his sent waves of pleasure through him, each touch igniting the fire that burned within. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear once more. "I'm gonna make you scream my name, darlin'." Just then, Cillian gently and carefully slipping just an inch in her. Watching her movements and noises she made by being caught of guard. Then he bottomed out in her. The noises she made were like music to his ears.

“F-fuck your still so tight..you make me want to ruin that tight little hole of yours so bad”

As he begins to thrust, his movements are measured, synchronized with the rhythm of their bodies intertwining. Though typically reserved, his restraint is tested in this moment of raw vulnerability. Unable to contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through him, a low, guttural moan escapes his lips, betraying the depths of his pleasure. His breath becomes ragged, each exhale a symphony of ecstasy and longing.

“I saw the way you were lookin’ at me while I was up there givin’ that speech..” he paused, “You dirty fuckin’ slut..”

Cillian shuttered slightly, even though he’s rammed his cock in his wife’s cunt many times over but it still has not gotten old and he still cannot keep his composure as much as he wants to however a dominant side tends come out on certain days and in certain occasions, and this was that occasion.

“F-fuck your still so tight..you make me want to ruin that tight little hole of yours so bad”

He started to slowly and precariously thrust into her, making sure every single moment his hips collided with hers that it was perfection. His breath slowly started to crack and shutter. He was such a mess anytime he got his hands on her didn’t matter what situation, it didn’t matter aware. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut, however, he was learning composure tonight it was her turn to be the thoughtless slut.

“Oh…I feel ye’ fuckin’ twitchin’ on it..love..”

His hand snaked up and around her perfect body, to the front of her dripping cunt. His thumb finding its way to her clit and beginning to rub uneven and broken circles around her clit, making her practically live on her toes just from this touch he was providing her.

“C-Cill~” She said while practically whimpering and moaning.

He smiled while barely keeping his composure. He was shivering, shaking, and practically drooling he never got used to this feeling, and he never would. It was always an intimate feeling that they both shared. “Fu-fuck you’re so perfect when you take my cock, love..”

Cillian started to speed up his thumb on her clit, he could and feel her coming close to cumming. He thrust becoming more fast deeper and more sloppy.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like it don’t you? You’re such a a slut..”

He sped up his thumb movements on her clit, while his hips were thrusting as fast as he could without physically passing out. When she finally came, it was with a scream that echoed through the room, her body shaking with the force of her climax. Cillian followed soon after, his own release hitting him like a freight train. He groaned her name, his body tensing as he spilled into her, the pleasure overwhelming him.

They collapsed together in a mess of sweat, bodily fluids, and love. Such a beautiful site to see truly. As the intensity of their passionate embrace begins to wane, Cillian tenderly guides her to the warmth and comfort of their bed. His movements are slow and deliberate, his touch gentle yet firm as he ensures she feels supported and cared for every step of the way. With a soft smile and a reassuring squeeze of her hand, he settles her onto the soft mattress, a sanctuary of peace and intimacy.

As they lay side by side, the warmth of their bodies radiating against each other, Cillian's hands begin to explore her skin with a tender reverence. His touch is gentle yet purposeful, his fingers tracing the contours of her body with an intimate familiarity that speaks of years spent in each other's embrace.

"Are you okay, love?" Cillian's voice was low and soothing, laced with genuine concern as he searched her eyes for any sign of discomfort or distress.

She nodded softly, her fingers intertwining with his as she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I'm fine, Cillian," she replied, her voice warm and affectionate. "Just a bit tired, but in the best possible way."

Cillian's heart swelled with love for her, his chest tightening with a mixture of tenderness and desire. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin as he breathed in the scent of her hair. "You were incredible, as always," he murmured, his words filled with admiration and reverence. He shifted closer to her, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist as he pulled her into a gentle embrace. She nestled against him, her head resting against his chest as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. They lay there together in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of their shared intimacy. The steady beat of their hearts a comforting reminder of the bond that binds them together as one.

Author’s Notes:

This was in the backlogs of my drafts it’s like the backrooms over here man. It’s scary like this was supposed to be for the Oscars, also I didn’t think the last smut I wrote for Cillian would be the most liked post I have..but here we are. I like attention, I’m an attention whore. But also a slut for Cillian himself..fuck I love that man.

If the male scene seems off like cause she’s sitting on the counter then perceiving to give him head just ignore that part. I couldn’t write it any other different way. Just let my mind do the way it does it. Let’s just say she’s on the floor now like on her knees. Also, yes, I do use both words ‘Cum’ and ‘come’ both of them are habits when I use more than the other, but sometimes they merge depending on who is saying it because one can have more of an accent than the other and if you notice it then I’ve done my job.

Maybe it’s messy in the end but how cares? I love messy smut and so should you!

Credit for the masterlist banner: Myself! I finally made a crap ton of them on Canva!

Credit for the little sparkle smol divider: Cafekitsune

[pinguwrites]

Kinktober 2023 — Masterlist

A/N — With October coming up, it's time for filth, so here's a masterlist of Cillian Murphy goodness. The list will be updated as the days of the month pass. I hope you guys enjoy!

Read the warnings before continuing. I do not condone, defend, support, romanticize, or encourage the illegal actions of any of the characters throughout the story, these stories are purely written for entertainment purposes. 18+ only.

WEEK ONE

Day 1. William Killick + dub-con

Day 2. Cillian Murphy + spanking, authority kink

Day 3. Raymond Leon + car sex

Day 4. Neil Lewis + grinding, semi-public

Day 5. Thomas Shelby + overstimulation, bondage

Day 6. Jonathan Crane + impact play

Day 7. Robert Oppenheimer + praise kink, dd/lg

WEEK TWO

Day 8. Thomas Shelby + omegaverse, omega!tommy

Day 9. Robert Fischer + facefucking, office sex

Day 10. William Killick + uniform kink, dirty talk

Day 11. Tom Buckley + body worship, overstimulation

Day 12. Neil Lewis + cockwarming

Day 13. Cillian Murphy + somnophilia, dd/lg

Day 14. Jackson Rippner + CNC, roleplay

WEEK THREE

Day 15. Jonathan Crane + sex pollen

Day 16. William Killick + face riding

Day 17. Jonathan Breech + making a video

Day 18. Raymond Leon + forced proximity, outercourse

Day 19. Thomas Shelby + fingering, hold the moan

Day 20. Darren/Pig + vanilla, riding

Day 21. Robert Fischer + mirror sex, toys

WEEK FOUR

Day 22. Jackson Rippner + choking, anal sex

Day 23. Tom Buckley + vanilla, creampie

Day 24. Jonathan Crane + humiliation, pegging

Day 25. Robert Fischer + wet dream, sleepy sex

Day 26. Neil Lewis + shower sex

Day 27. Raymond Leon + anal sex, brat taming

Day 28. Jonathan Breech + fluffy, semi-public

WEEK FIVE

Day 29. Cillian Murphy + overstimulation, f!receiving oral sex

Day 30. Darren/Pig + mutual masturbation

Day 31. Jackson Rippner + ghostface!reader

[queenshelby]

Chemical Reactions (P. 5)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Mild Smut, Age-Gap, Infidelity

Words: 2,406

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

Previous Parts: 1; 2; 3; 4

It was six o’clock on Sunday evening and, just as discussed with your professor a few days ago when he startled you inside the chemistry lab, you were waiting for him to arrive at the Chevalier residence.

Haakon Chevalier and his wife were away for the weekend and you did not expect them to return until tomorrow which is why you believed the timing for your mentoring session to be just perfect. Unlike usual, you made an effort tonight, just in case your professor wanted to stay and explore more than just quantum physics and the collapse of stars and supernovas, which was something that was of particular interest to you when it came to your thesis. You wanted to expand on J Robert Oppenheimer’s very own theory and this was exactly why he became your mentor.

Yet, you wanted him to be more than just that as, at least to you, J Robert Oppenheimer was the most handsome man you had ever seen with his dark hair and his blue eyes, full lips and sharp cheekbones. J Robert Oppenheimer was mature and incredibly intelligent and it was his intellect that turned you on the most. He was smarter than anyone else you had ever met before and you felt as though he understood your intellectual needs and desires just perfectly.

Thus, you stiffened in your chair just by thinking of him and his impending arrival at the Chevalier residence. A mix of dread and desire washed over you and, eventually, you stood up and smoothed down your dress and walked to the bathroom.

You flipped on the light and looked in the mirror before fingering your hair. Your eyes were big and dark, dark lashes curled up with a subtle shimmer painted across your eyelids, matching the simple black dress you were wearing.

It made you look older and more mature and you hoped that Dr Oppenheimer would appreciate it, seeing that you looked elegant but not inappropriately suggestive.

When you were done looking yourself over, you walked downstairs again like a nervous chicken, carrying a few physics books in your hands which you knew you would need in order to discuss your very own theory with him.

You knew that you had to be prepared and prepared you were when, finally, you heard a knock on the door.

“Dr Oppenheimer, please come in” you said after, without wearing any shoes or stockings, you tippy toed towards the door.

“I can see that you have already prepared your paperwork, so we shall get started right away, yes?” Dr Oppenheimer asked, skipping any kind of small talk and cutting straight to the point.

“Yes, perhaps we should, although I was going to offer you a drink first as, no doubt, you had a rather busy and demanding week” you suggested while looking at him and his deep blue eyes which, so seemingly, followed you as you walked across the room barefooted.

“I suppose I could have one drink” Dr Oppenheimer said, falling into your gaze for a short moment, before you forced yourself to look away. You tried hard to take him all in as he took off his hat and suit jacket, but you simply could not. It was way too difficult for you to do so without blushing.

“Wine or gin?” you then asked, although you already knew the answer and had the gin bottle opened before he could respond.

“Gin, please” he confirmed before he dropped his books on to the coffee table as well and sat down on one of the rather soft and comfortable armchairs.

“Alright, gin it is” you said while pouring two glasses and later carrying them over towards where he was sitting before throwing one of the larger pillows onto the rug beneath your feet and kneeling on top of it.

“Should I join you down there?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked with amusement, seeing that you chose to sit on a pillow on the floor rather than on the large sofa behind you.

“If you like. It’s just a silly habit of mine” you pointed out as you opened one of the books that you had placed on top of the large coffee table earlier that night.

“Alright. I suppose the comfort of upholstery is highly overrated” Dr Oppenheimer responded sarcastically before slipping off his shoes, throwing another pillow onto the floor and joining you by sitting down right by your side.

“It sure is, professor” you chuckled before showing him the sheets that you had prepared and, just as you gave him your workbook, your hands touched briefly, resulting yet in another tingle on your skin.

"Well, let's figure out where you are at and what we need to work on” Dr Oppenheimer told you while taking a pen from the stash of pens you had left on the table and reading through your calculations which, in his mind, appeared to be incomplete.

“Miss Y/LN, you seem to have omitted a few steps in your calculations” he then pointed out and, when you looked at your papers again, you realised that he was right. An entire sheet was missing and you did not know where you had put it.

“I am so sorry. I did write it all out but I must have left some of my notes at the lab last night when I was working with the reactor” you admitted with great embarrassment, causing Dr Oppenheimer to furrow his eyebrows and make a somewhat terrible suggestion.

“Can you replicate your calculations?” he asked and, by this point, panic had sat in.

“From memory?” you asked and when Dr Oppenheimer nodded, you nodded as well, telling him that you would try.

Unfortunatly for you though, as soon as you put pen to paper, you were lost. You were so completely lost that, by that time, you had forgotten that Dr Oppenheimer was even sitting there watching you and then you jumped when he touched the small of your back and told you to stop what you were doing.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you..." he said while pointing at the problem you were facing and, just as he did, you locked eyes and you could not look away. It was as though he was peering into your soul, searching out your deepest secrets and desires. His pupils expanded as his iris contracted. The colours shifted through a spectrum of greys and blues and you were absolutely lost in his eyes.

“I can show you my calculations upstairs, in my bedroom. I did them before starting the experiment. The experiment confirmed some of my theory and the calculations I did earlier this week, except for formula three. Formula three changed and I can replicate this change. Come. I will show you” you then said suddenly and a little too abruptly after snapping out of your trance and your words startled Dr Oppenheimer as well.

"You want me to come upstairs, to your bedroom?” he asked somewhat surprised while furrowing his eyebrows again and you nodded.

“Yes. Come on” you said while noticing that his eyes were wandering to your breasts as you stood up and, just as they did, his chest flexed, either involuntarily or on purpose.

“Mhhm” Dr Oppenheimer then simply said, clearing his throat before standing up and following you upstairs, to your bedroom.

***

Seconds later, you reached your bedroom and when Dr Oppenheimer saw the large chalk board across from your bed, he was rather surprised.

In fact, he was surprised by the entirety of your bedroom which consisted of a small bed, three overfilled bookshelves, a small closet, and an oversized chalkboard, containing calculations on dark matter.

“This is one hell of a chalkboard” Dr Oppenheimer thus teased and you could not help but break out in laughter, seeing how awkward this was, standing in your bedroom with your professor.

“I only just realised how inappropriate it was for me to ask you to come to my bedroom. I am so sorry” you acknowledged while he stood there, totally engulfed by his own thoughts of stars exploding.

“Uh huh” he simply murmured while taking in what you are suggesting just as you amended formula three, replicating what you saw during your experiments in the lab.

“What you are suggesting is not the collapse of a star. It is the explosion of a star. There would have to be an ejection of most of its mass which is something that has to be visible” Dr Oppenheimer then said with his velvet smooth voice as he looked you right in the eyes.

“Yes, it would be visible, from space, but not necessarily from here. It depends entirely on the location of the star” you responded with some nervousness in your voice which is when Robert shifted closer towards you and you could feel the heat from his body beside you.

It was purely intoxicating and, if you were to lean in right now, you would have been able to kiss him. But, you only let that thought simmer for a moment before pushing it away, afraid to make the move which you wanted him to make so desperately.

“This hypothesis would change how we think about nuclear transformation” Robert eventually said and your cheeks became flushed as you tried to deflect on his statement, but your brain did not think so you blurted out a slightly whispered "maybe"..

“Maybe?” Robert chuckled. His smile grew big and his eyes began to search you, causing you to gulp.

“You should be more confident with your answer Miss Y/LN” Robert then said before leaning in slightly and bringing his hands up to gently touch your face.

“You are smart and intelligent. Your calculations seem to be correct and logical and your conclusions are impressive. Now you just have to prove your theory” Robert told you with a sense of affection and awe in his voice, to which you simply nodded again, unable to form words under the attraction that you were feeling towards this god-like man right now.

“You impressed me Y/N” Robert then pointed out, for the first time using your first name, as he moved one of his fingers to your lips, tracing an outline of them.

You gasped in response to his gentle touch while your body was vibrating for him. Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest and you could hear the whooshing of blood as your body radiated from his touch.

“May I kiss you?” he then asked somewhat reluctantly himself as he leaned his face towards yours until his lips were almost touching your lips.

“Yes, please do” you gasped as you stopped breathing before, suddenly, you felt the anticipation of a teenage girl waiting for her crush to kiss her at a school dance.

Following your approval, Robert closed the gap between you, touching his lips to yours. He was slow at first, but then you become enveloped with passion and your hands reached for his hair and your tongue pushed through the barrier of his lips and reached its destination.

Your tongues became encompassed with a passionate dance and you moaned against his lips while slowly, but surely, losing control. Robert’s hands began to move from your face down to your arms, moving lower and lower until they were resting on your thighs as you were still locked in this passionate dance of mouths, only ever pausing to breathe.

Robert was a sensational kisser and just as he circled his tongue around yours his hands started moving up your thighs again slightly. Your body responded by begging them to move faster and then, all so suddenly, an unfamiliar heat began to form in your lower regions.

With that, you started to move a little and your hands became bolder and bolder as you continued to envelop each other mouths. You ran yours hands down Robert’s chest, teasing the fabric of his shirt before, finally, your hands moved lower as your fingers caught the edge of where his shirt met his belt.

You then started undoing one button after another, moving upwards one by one, praying that he would not resist and, sure enough, resistance was the last thing on Robert’s mind right now.

Eventually, while still kissing each other, you completed your task and his heat poured out as soon as the white fabric dropped to the floor, revealing his slim but incredible physique. You then began to touch him, running your hands down his chest and through the small patch of hair on his chest before feeling the taut muscle under your fingers.

As you were touching Robert gently, he moaned against your lips while, all at the same time, his fingers moved up until they were resting at the back of your dress, which is where Robert found the very top of your zipper.

As he slowly unzipped your dress, you began to moan louder, almost begging for him to touch you which is when slipped his fingers beneath the fabric and you gently pushed your garment down until your dress was caught by the outline of your hips.

This when you opened your eyes, breaking your kiss momentarily.

“I should let you know that I have not done this before” you stammered huskily against his lips as his hands caressed the skin now exposed on your back.

“What do you mean?” Robert asked as he held you close, never letting go of his embrace.

“I have not slept with anyone yet. Not with a man anyway. It just never eventuated” you admitted, causing Robert to clear his throat and withdraw.  

“Then perhaps we should stop this right here. I am not the man for you” he pointed out and you reached for his hands, holding them in yours before bringing them back to your half-naked body.

“Why?” you asked huskily, wanting to continue you where you had left of.

“Because I will not be able to give you what you want” Robert determined but you shook your head and sighed.

“I haven’t told you what I want, so do you just presume to know?” you asked while rolling your eyes.

“I am married and I am not going to leave my wife” Robert said before withdrawing again and, for a brief moment, you stepped away from him and leaned back against the chalkboard with yet another sigh escaping your lips.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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[weirdworldofwinnie]

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part One: Arrival

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader, NSFW 18+ only

Summary: You are married to the man in charge of the Manhattan Project himself, Dr. Robert Oppenheimer, and it's your first day (and night) at Los Alamos where tension and unspoken worry is getting high, but he finds time to show you how love can be an oasis in what seems like a rather barren land.

Word Count: ~7, 213

Warnings: Age gap (reader is mid-20s and he is almost 40, and they have been married for a couple years), period stereotypical gender roles (maybe sexism?), unprotected + oral sex, mention of miscarriage, and strong hints at infidelity

Disclaimer: Obviously NOT completely historically or scientifically accurate to real life and is inspired by the film with Cillian Murphy's portrayal of Oppenheimer. There are definitely mentions of Katherine and Jean Tatlock as lovers in this, but he does not have any children with Kitty and is not physically with either of them presently. I also want to clarify that this (while researched) is still just my interpretation with AU elements added in, and it isn't supposed to be in total support and reflection of the real man's life/personality. Scroll away and DNI if you are uncomfortable or take issue with this story; it is primarily for entertainment purposes only and it is just fantasy/fiction!

April 1943

The ride en route to the secluded destination christened as "Los Alamos" was long, hot, and bumpy through the New Mexico desert on a single primitive dirt road with the sun beating down on the windshield, glaring into your eyes and reflecting off the expensive dainty golden watch wrapped around your wrist that had been last year's anniversary present, and the jostling motion of the car made your breasts jiggle up and down slightly, reminding you that you'd been in such a hurry to leave with Robert this morning you'd regrettably forgone putting on a bra. He glanced over to you now, his porkpie hat shadowing the serious and contemplative expression that he had been wearing as a regular look for weeks now... Finally this plan was coming to fruition, but at what cost? It was the government's money and the scientists who were on the line. Robert let you know more details than most out of his non-physics inner circle because he trusted you to keep your lips sealed, but he never gave specifics about what exactly the coined Manhattan Project, or Project Y, was for in terms of a mission yet because it was national security level secret, however it didn't take a genius to figure out it was incredibly important and the development of something dangerous... Too dangerous to keep in a campus laboratory at Berkeley.

As the car approached the main gate and passed by the checkpoint, you realized just now fairly remote this barbed-wire location was and it made a small sinkhole crater in your stomach. But Robert knew this land from his youth and you partly did too, for he owned ranchland here and you both had spent many hours in the last couple years roaming on horseback and on foot into the twilight hours of the day, feeling the chill of the evening breeze and the rustle of shrubbery as the sun dipped down below the horizon and plum light bathed the landscape, bouncing off the backdrop of mountains and reaching deep into the canyons. You recalled fondly one time in particular during the early stages of being courted by him... It was technically only the second date and he had mistakenly trusted you with a horse, even though you were hardly an experienced rider, and of course it had gone ballistic and attempted to buck you off as you held on for dear life to the stiff dark brown leather saddle.

"Woah... Woah! Easy, easy," Robert had called out, grabbing a hold of the bridle and patting the stallion on the neck as you gasped and he kicked his hooves, thrashing the dirt and missing Robert's cowboy boots by inches.

"This one can be a bit rowdy, sometimes the wild never quite gets bred out, and he's not used to you," he explained simply over your panicked cries as he kept patting and verbally calming the animal down.

"But what did I do wrong? I swear, he dislikes me tremendously!" you exclaimed in shock and Robert only shook his head.

"Then he has very poor taste in women if he rejects you," he had joked and you went sliding off the horse's back to where Robert caught you, easing you to the ground gently.

"Are you alright?" he asked, eyes alight with a mischievous concern, but you merely brushed your pants off and smoothed your blouse, shaking the experience off.

"Of course I am. Now are we riding or not?"

He smiled at your confidence, but had hoisted you up onto his horse instead, straddling you from behind so you were facing front and clutching onto the reins. His arms loped around your waist and the horse began to trot, bouncing both you and him in a steady up and down motion, and you flicked the reins, causing the horse to take off into the expansive landscape and Robert let out a joyous whoop as the pace transitioned into a gregarious cantering gallop and the wind whipped your hair around like a battered Old Glory flag in a storm.

"This is too fast!" you had yelled out, but he only laughed, tightening his hold into a squeeze around you and spoke into your ear with a low murmur which instinctively made the goosebumps flare up on your neck.

"I wouldn't let you go even if that horse went mad and flew us off the ground over into a ravine to our deaths."

A little more than six months later after that frivolous adventure, he had dropped to his knee in that very desert and proposed to you, a diamond engagement ring encased in a black box in his palms and you were startled, taken aback at the promptness and faintly aware he was actively seeing at least one other woman at the time, but he had claimed he called it off with her a week ago.

You had cautiously accepted, knowing he was far from a wholesome man, but he was certainly one in a billion and you had unapologetically been with him ever since, even though some friends and extended relatives had openly judged, thinking you were only climbing up a social status ladder by doing so, and a couple of your more left-leaning girlfriends thought you were foolish to already settle for a man at your young age, but you truly loved him. Romance was rather odd; so rushed it could be and yet you felt comfortable around him as if you had known each other for life; soulmates, perhaps, if there ever was such a notion.

The wedding ceremony had been lavish enough to make you feel special, but it had been a more low-key event with only a small group of the closest friends and family in attendance, for he did not want much pomp and circumstance and you had spent the honeymoon at his secluded New Mexico ranch property, bizarrely a sort of prelude to where you both were ending up now. The phone hadn't stopped ringing for the past few weeks and since this work was taking up presidency, it was truth to be told that you hadn't really had time for each other and had been distant these past couple months as he diverted all his focus and intellect to the government and you hoped that after all this preparation, everything would settle somewhat now that he was at the ground level site. You felt trepidation but also excitement because this venture felt relevant and Robert was in his element with the company of like minded individuals all working towards a common goal. His vocation in teaching what he already knew of upper level physics had been boring him lately and he had told you multiple times he was haunted by the pressing need to be essential to the war effort outside of the confines of a classroom; he and his students had to make a real impact and change to the world, to this damned war. And if Robert wasn't the most ambitious, motivated, self-driven intelligent human being you'd ever met, then you'd be stumped to know who was right for the job; he could be dangerously dogged and was as loyal to this country as roots were to their corresponding corn stalks.

And now, starting today, he was the one man scientific director, a ruler really, of this militarized oasis in the middle of, well, nowhere.

Fractions of the place were still in progress, as evident by the trucks and the hammering with the occasional man lumbering past hauling construction boards on his shoulders. The Oppenheimers were still early in arrival, but everyone else on the project was supposed to be settled in by the end of the week. The house you and your husband were to live at was much better off than the cookie-cutter houses hastily put up suburban style along the man-made streets and it was tucked furthest away from the epicenter of town; a large spacious log and stone cabin (that had been formerly a boys' school) ranch style home surrounded by pine trees and shrubs along with a decent yard with that seemed ripe for cultivating a garden, and yet the home was modest and not overly luxurious; this was no vacation.

"The kitchen isn't finished?" you asked in surprise at once upon entry inside and Robert sighed, knowing you how much you had a penchant for cooking and he also knew that hosting gatherings here was going to be essential.

"I'll make sure they get it complete by the end of the week," he assured, resting a hand on the small of your back as you dropped down the luggage on the floor.

"Well, it is rather nice otherwise," you admitted, turning to him and smiling, but he couldn't quite return the gesture.

"Robert, what's the matter?" You reached to cup his cheek and he leaned into your touch before lifting up his own hand and placing it atop the one plastered to his face.

"I'm frankly worried how this is all going to work, how soon we can accomplish what we need to do. The death toll in Germany grows by the day, it may already be too late and..."

You placed a hand to his lips, shushing him with sadness.

"Please, shh, I'll have none of that talk when we just arrived in our new house. We are here now and that is the most important first step that matters towards any kind of accomplishment to your saving the world from this hellish war."

"I need to go do some oversight on the operations in town and at the laboratory," he announced abruptly, stepping back from your touch and picking up his briefcase as you nodded, moving with him to the front door.

"I'll see you tonight then. I think I'll make deviled chicken with a creamy coleslaw."

"I'm sure it will be delicious." He gave a tight smile and it was a somewhat ironic statement coming from the man who ate less than a thousand calories a day. That was one frustrating aspect about him that you had discovered when you had moved in with him back in California and realized he never had regular meals, and lately drinks and cigarettes were his main fuel. You hoped one of these days your passion for food would finally rub off on his aversion, but it probably wouldn't happen here with the increased supply rationing.

He disappeared out the door with his hat and you stood for awhile, taking in this new environment inside the main part of the house with its interesting architecture of high beamed ceilings and picture windows that allowed ample amounts of natural light at almost all hours. You spent most of the day unpacking and organizing, briefly going out to greet and visit with the other wives of top scientists, some you already knew, but others you had not met until today and you noticed that one of those you weren't familiar with was visibly pregnant... She was even younger than you and seeing her led you to wonder how quickly this little manufactured desert town was going to see a population boom in the next few years. Robert had brought up the concept of having children with you on more than one occasion, since you had already gone through one miscarriage (only in your first trimester and you never knew the sex of it, the doctor told you it could have been worse if you had carried to full term and lost the infant at birth, but it was still a gutting loss... Although you knew Robert was privately relieved, especially now since his work would likely leave no room in his heart to father an innocent, demanding child and all the burden would go to you alone) and there was the fact of possible infertility. The hardship of procreation probably ran in the family... Your mother had also miscarried, then had your premature brother who caught polio at two years old and perished weeks later, and then she herself had died during your own childbirth, leaving your father devastated and alone to care for you. You had a complicated, strained relationship early on with him and you wondered perhaps Freud was loosely right about the Oedipus complex since you always had such strong attractions to older men... but at least your father always tried to give you the best possible life he had with his wealth, which led you to moving out from your childhood home in New York across the country to pursue attending college in California in the field of psychology and medicine. You had been in the process of getting a degree in nursing, at least until Robert altered your life by his own ambitions and you had been forced to drop your studies temporarily to move out here with him, but you planned to be studying some by correspondence if the government allowed and also to be able to help out in the small hospital on site for an occupation.

To trim the excess fat off a long story short, it had been a bizarre fluke that you met and promptly fell in love with Robert... you were introduced on campus by friends who also knew Jean Tatlock, a budding psychiatrist and proudly Communist, and he had happened to take a bright shine to you. You considered him unattainable at first, a very well respected brilliant physics teacher with more life experience than you could have dreamed of... He was otherworldly at times, yet found grounding earth in your presence, but it would mystify you what exactly he found so desirable in you. You were as lovely as any other woman your age and smart, but you never thought of yourself as outstandingly intelligent when compared to the people he taught in academia, and not absolutely drop dead gorgeous in terms of prize worthy beauty. Perhaps the attraction, like Robert's scientific passion, was on a molecular scale and only bonded by invisible atoms making the illusion of being a solid relationship. Maybe it was as basic as the fact that you two were mutually compatible with each other and respectable of any differences, unlike his other fiery messy relationships with Jean and Katherine. Would you having a baby split that all apart? Personally, you weren't sure you were ready for any offspring yet and to be thrown into motherhood when you were still navigating having a successful marriage and you highly doubted "The Hill" (as the residents here were calling it) would be a healthy environment for children to thrive in, despite the efforts for a school and daycare, seeing that there were armed uniforms milling about all hours of the day and silent stress was already pervasive in every look, cough, and casual conversation you noticed through passing by. And it was only day one of, as Robert predicated, two to three years of hard work swathed in isolated secrecy.

As daylight began to fade fast and inevitably hand itself over to the darkness, you went back to the house to fry up the chicken. The stove was effective, although one burner seemed a little on the fritz, but half of the cabinetry was unfinished and the counter space was minimal.

Laying out the cream-colored napkins and the finest china you had brought packed securely in a box, you delicately set the table. Despite not having a birth mother to guide you through womanhood, you took to home keeping fairly well and religiously read the magazines, believing being married to an upper class man meant all these details and roles. But privately you also felt the crushing pressure and caught yourself wondering if you were immature to be in this mold. Robert never told you otherwise though and he would theoretically be the last man to stamp out a woman's sense of inner individuality, but you couldn't ignore the fact you, while willingly, still had to sideline your educational and career priorities to come support and live here with your husband. But it didn't matter too much, for you knew in your heart you could follow this man to the ends of the earth if you so desired.

For good ambient measure, you lit two pillar candles in the center of the tablecloth and just as you laid the food on a plate, you heard the front door crack open and the soft clomping of shoes.

Robert would never be the 'Honey, I'm home!' type of husband, yet he always managed to make an entrance regardless, especially now. His slender frame leaned into the doorway, hands crumpling his hat in front of his crotch and the candlelight flashed harrowing ghoulish shadows across his sharp cheekbones and dull pinkish lips.

"Well, what do you think?" you proposed, gesturing to the table spread when he didn't speak. He only gazed at your feminine features, his eyes full of desire that wasn't for the dinner you made, and when his mouth finally parted, he spoke in a husky voice, slowly coming closer and abandoning his hat to a chair, closing in on you.

"I'm sure it is very palatable, but I fear my hunger cannot be fulfilled by only earthly consumption," he confessed, ducking to kiss your cheek and moving his hands up to your neck, caressing your nape and moving his mouth to your lips, but you gently pushed him away, pressing into the fabric of his gray suit jacket.

"We should wait until after dinner," you told him earnestly, knowing what he wanted instead.

"Dessert, then?" he murmured, coming close again despite your light physical resistance and thumbing your bottom lip. You smiled and his arm snaked under your skirt and between your thighs, hand crawling upward to your panties and you breathed in, changing your mind.

"Maybe I can wait to eat after all."

His breath caught, a single finger inches from hitting your covered vaginal area, before he removed his teasing hand and pulled back, gripping your shoulders with conviction.

"Eat. You deserve it and you worked hard on preparing it, I can observe."

He bent down, gentlemanly drawing out a chair for you to sit down in, which you did, letting his hands linger at the neckline of your blouse before he walked around to the other side of the small round table and took a seat, rummaging out a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and striking it up with his lighter, the smoke wafting in wispy trails around his head. You took a careful first bite, relishing in the flavor and spices (paprika in particular) as he sat there across from you, relaxing back in his chair and taking a drag on the cigarette, puffing out a sigh. You smirked, swallowing a forkful as he kept his gaze steady on you.

"You're making me self conscious, just sitting there surveying my appetite," you told him and he grinned, fiddling with the cigarette.

"I enjoy watching you eat. You are the very essence of life I see lacking in so much of this world."

You blushed in the warm glow of the candlelight, remaining humble.

"That is quite a compliment I don't know if I'm quite worthy of."

"You are, no jury would contradict me." He nodded sincerely as he smoked and you ate in silence for a few minutes before he then finally gave his cigarette a rest and poked at his food, politely taking a few bites of hot chicken and chewing at a snail's pace.

"How did today go?" you tentatively asked, finishing off your own chicken and moving to the rich, crunchy coleslaw.

"We will be making progress. Although I will always say, that General Groves is the most obstinate man with the exact deposition one would expect from a bulldog," he answered with a touch of bitter amusement.

"Should you be saying that? They're... not listening, are they?" you asked in a hushed paranoid voice, glancing around the room and knowing that the phone lines were tapped for sure, but you weren't certain they would go as far to place bugging devices hidden in the house.

"Relax, I could say much worse," Robert admitted nonchalantly with a harmless shrug and you allowed yourself a chuckle, mentally picturing a bulldog in a General's uniform. You took a bite of cabbage, changing the conversation to your side of social contacts in this limited town.

"I met with our neighbors and the other ladies today. They seem cordial and we have already exchanged pleasantries and plans for a party next weekend. I also offered to babysit one mother's two rambunctious little boys and spoke to the doctor at the medical facility about assistance there."

Robert nodded, gesturing with his empty fork.

"Keeping busy I see, but I'll have to arrange to let you in the office sometime instead of spending your days cooped up here and at the neighbors. I missed you and your insight already today."

"But you know I am not privy to everything you and your scientists are doing here..." you started to protest before he cut you off.

"I'm well aware, but I doubt a visit to my own office will cause a security uproar. You are my wife, Y/N. The reason most of the scientists came to Los Alamos in the first place was not solely the work, but because they could bring their wives, their families. We do our best work with moral and... sexual support." He raised his eyebrows and you felt a tingle run through you, a yearning for exactly what he was suggesting, but you had to finish the meal first.

Once you cleared most of your plate, he surprised you by taking the dishes and quickly rinsing the plates in the sink before making and pouring out his signature martinis. You knew Robert must be silently stressed however, for he only took one sip of his drink before he moved outside under the roof awning with his tobacco pipe, settling down on a folding chair and gazing out at the landscape and listening to the low mumble of military personnel mingling about on patrol as though this were a prison (which it was).

You joined him with a cigarette a few minutes later (you had never smoked a single cigarette until you married Robert and unconsciously adopted the habit, but you weren't much of a smoker when it made you cough, yet you kind of enjoyed the nicotine having that convenient effect of temporarily soothing your nerves) and positioned yourself down next to him, letting the cigarette dangle from your lips while folding your hands neatly on your knees.

His eyelids were appearing heavy and his head drooped, chin tucking down. You gave him a bumping nudge and he looked over at you, teeth clamped down on his pipe.

"Tired?" you wondered and he gave a noncommittal grunt, fixing his eyes back straight ahead. You noticed how still he was - calm - and it was a welcome change from the past few weeks where he had been wound up, constantly on the phone at one point or another and gone for many hours in meetings. But now that nearly everyone was all here, it was almost too tranquil... giving the illusion of calm before potential chaos.

"Oppie!" a young man's voice suddenly called out and he came jogging into view on the rock slabbed pathway, halting slightly when he saw you.

"Oh, good evening Ma'am," he greeted courteously with a squinted smile. You smiled in turn, nodding, and he focused to Robert, who gave a tilt of his pipe in acknowledgement and stood up stiffly.

"Any news I should know about, Feynman?"

The man paused, glancing to you warily.

"Is it about the nature of our work?" Robert asked sharply and Feynman shook his head.

"No, sir, it is not pertaining to that."

"Well, whatever it is you can say in front of my wife and I then."

"It's just a communicative matter. There was a phone call from a young woman asking for you earlier that was flagged in the office for personal matters concerning security. Groves is in a fit and I was to inform you tomorrow, but I thought I'd give fair warning and-"

"Then I will address it tomorrow," Robert interrupted and without further word, took your arm and marched you back inside the house. You shook off his touch and shut the door hard, spinning to address him.

"What the hell was that about?"

He closed his eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his forehead while exhaling.

"There are intimate ghosts that continue to haunt me," he answered cryptically, taking refuge in the lounge and sipping his martini, but you had a hunch however who was the "ghost" because you knew her and you pointed a finger sternly at him.

"This is about Jean, isn't it? How does she even know to contact this location? And I thought you were all done with her, as you are with that Katherine!"

"I am, I swear to it. But she is different than any other woman I have been with before you, though. She can be... unstable and she may need to hear from me."

"She just wants your sex, that's all!"

"It's more complicated than that."

"You had nights with her while you were having nights with me during courting, I heard about it from our friends. It was still the sex that was the driving factor that she desired from you."

He looked down, unable to deny that entirely and you backed away, shaking your head.

"I can't believe this, the first day here and you can't shake those Communist ties trailing us."

"May I remind you that you considered fully joining once upon a time in the not so distant past? We met at such a social function, remember?"

You bit your lip and refused to meet his wide eyes staring a hole into you, for this was very well true.

"I did, but I overcame it. It's ridiculous to devote one's energy to an ideology and not to concrete, practical solutions. I was never devoted and absolutely do not consider myself a member. I never was."

This made Robert scowl, setting his glass down with a clink.

"It is my opinion that you should be free to choose your dogmas, if you want any at all that is. Belief is voluntary, but it shouldn't be a crime; we all deserve our wiggle room."

"Is that what she told you too?"

He licked his lips, stepping close so you were involuntarily arrested by his blue eyes boring into yours and his hand slid up your arm, finding your shoulder and the bra strap peeking out from the neckline of the blouse.

"I see you put one on," he muttered and you blinked, almost forgetting about that little detail and refusing to be seduced by his perceptivity.

"Yes, I did. My breasts are still sore from that uncomfortable car ride."

"It's a shame they are so contained now," he whispered, beginning to undo the buttons on the blouse and push his fingers into the crevice between your breasts, but you weren't quite having it after the unresolved discussion and the way he had been moments before.

"We are going to do this now? After what I just accused? And besides, I thought you were too preoccupied and planning to sit out there half the night smoking away by your lonesome while I go to bed."

"You make nights worth bearing awake, especially tonight." He shifted, groping at your breasts and you stumbled back into the wall, breathing in shallow gasps. He put a finger to his lips conspiratorially and hugged your body with his own, speaking discreetly.

"We should be quiet to not disturb any nearby neighbors."

"They can't hear us and besides, I'm sick of piping down," you whined, remembering the date nights out in the desert where he'd lay out a picnic blanket and fuck you right then and there with the horses grazing several feet away and the canopy of stars winking overhead. You'd make as much noise as merited, probably confusing the yipping coyotes far off in the distance.

"I think we can try to control our auditory impulses for one night," Robert whispered, hands going to your waist and tugging at your skirt.

"The bedroom," you gasped, rushing away from him and down the narrow hallway, twisting around as he chased you with a huff.

"Where is it?" you asked anxiously, opening a couple doors and unfamiliar to this section of the house in the minimal lighting, when he suddenly pushed you from behind into an empty room with a single large king bed.

"Only the best for us," he told you and you fell forwards onto it, kicking your heels off and quickly flipping around to your back as he loosened his tie, casting it off to the floor and unbuttoning his white shirt as you sat up, reaching needily for his belt buckle and he leaned over onto you now shirtless and when he met your lips in a frantic kiss, you then noticed the prudent stench of sweat on his skin that was disrupting his usual familiar smoky flavor mixed with cologne and aftershave.

"Wait," you ordered, pressing a hand up on his collarbone.

"What is it?" he implored worriedly, searching your expression for the solution.

"Bath, you should bathe. It's been a few days and this heat isn't helping. Hasn't anyone told you that you reek like a dog?"

He groaned mournfully, leaning back and unfastening the belt, tossing it to the floor with a clunk of metal.

"You won't let me have you until I do?" he asked sadly, but you had an idea.

"What if I join you?"

His eyes sparked at this notion and you moved off the bed, finding the bathroom across the hall. This house was one of only a few equipped with tubs instead of showers; they didn't call this street "Bathtub Row" for nothing.

Robert finished undressing in front of you, tugging down his trousers and boxers, springing forth an already ready penis.

"You're going to make me work for it tonight, aren't you?" he asked as he stepped into the large basin, turning on the faucet and letting out a gasp when a strong stream of water blasted onto his bare feet.

"J-Jesus Christ, it's freezing!" he exclaimed loudly with a sputter and frantically slamming a hand on the knob as you laughed from your spot by the sink, taking out your earrings and slipping off your small wristwatch.

"Get in, I was warned about the water supply around here possibly being fickle, even for us," he commanded as you finagled your skirt and blouse off with your bra and panties discarded to the bathroom floor before taking a leg over the tub and stepping in to sit down across from him, letting the tub fill up one third of the way as a sitz bath before awkwardly reaching around him to grab the bar of ivory soap from the dish and began to rub into his back with it.

"I should've put in a request for an even larger bath," he complained as you scrunched up your legs against his and scrubbed dutifully into the folds of his skin.

"It'll do fine, darling."

He took the soap and you both took turns lathering each other up, making frothy circles with the creamy soap and rinsing, the water streaming down into the tub again, flooding both yours and his soapy complexion, washing it all off down the drain before having it fill up again, this time three quarters of the way. The water now pleasantly lukewarm, Robert contorted his body to submerge his head under the waterline and he came up with a loud splash, his wiry dark hair flattening to a wet mess on his forehead as your own dampened and you watched the droplets of water collect on his somewhat pallid skin. He scooted closer, entangling legs, and couldn't resist a quick dart of a finger down to your vagina and you whimpered as he touched your clitoris, inserting into you and making you arch your back and buck your hips when he inserted another finger, exploring around your wet velvety walls.

"God, Robert..." you moaned, digging your nails into the grooves of his skin and up to his head, feeling the cropped soaked scalp and neck. He suddenly lightly shoved you against the side of the tub, pressing his mouth to yours and naturally winding his tongue in, kissing you passionately until the water temperature grew too cold and you shivered, glued to his body and burying your face into his wet shoulder.

"That was merely the first act, sweetheart," he whispered and you smiled, leaning back a few inches so he could get up and step out onto the bath mat, taking your hand as he did so to pull you up and guide you out. Robert grabbed a large towel from the rack and wound it around the both of you, letting his genitals press up against yours and you both stood there for a while, listening to the steady drip-drop-drip-drop-drip-drop of falling water to the flooring.

"I'm surprised you've held off this long," you murmured, feeling his rising erection in between your thighs.

"I truly can't wait any longer," he admitted urgently and the towel dropped with a flump to the floor, and with bodies still slick with water, you and him exited the bathroom to fumble to the bedroom and the blue light from the window illuminated the sheets, the ideal love making spot. He let you collapse on your back and easily came down on top, gripping the back of your neck and already plunging in to align, but you squirmed in dissatisfaction.

"So soon?" you whined, wanting to play with and taste him first, but he was antsy to get to the pinnacle.

"Your virtuous patience should be framed and put on the walls of this house, along with your divine beauty," he whispered, head moving down to your breasts and you dug your fingers into his bare back, running along the bones of his more pronounced spine.

"C'mon, Oppie, let's do this the fun way... Give it to me," you begged and he cringed slightly, but rolled over onto his side and you immediately found his stiff penis with your hands, clenching around it firmly and stroking. He moaned softly and it flexed in your grasp... He could be a decent size when engaged, which was impressive for his underweight body.

"But don't you dare let me go without seeding you inside," he warned as though you had all the control.

"That's the plan."

Wordlessly, you positioned yourself down to the head of his cock and licked off his pre-cum, the recognizable taste milky on your tongue and you sucked, bringing it halfway in and fondling his balls lovingly in the meantime. He was breathing heavily and you didn't linger long at his member however because you could tell he was getting very close and neither you nor him wanted him to release anywhere other than the intended internal target. Pulling out and licking your lips, you repositioned your body on top of his and sank down flat to his chest, and he thrusted his hips up to meet you, heaving in with a grunt. You winced at the initial entry; you were always so sensitive down there (especially since the miscarriage), and he steadily kept at it, probing in further without being too rough.

"Fuck..." you breathed with a cry and he came forward to smooch your cheek as you mounted your hands on his shoulders and he pumped in and out, shaking the entire bed.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, my love," he breathed, keeping an intense gaze trained on you.

"Robert..." you groaned, letting him push as far as he could go until the pleasure was overloading and you felt his hot wet spurt of cum hit, eliciting a long moan from him, his slender frame shuddering beneath you. He closed his eyes and you kept a firm clench around his shaft, not ready to have him pull out yet. Gasping, you began rocking back and forth with ecstasy, your insides stretched to their limit and he seemed to know you were struggling to hold him.

"I'm coming out," he muttered and gently pulled back wetly so he wasn't balls deep in you anymore and then you repositioned to lightly ride him, which was your favorite position, and you bounced up and down on his upright full cock, orgasming a few more times as he watched your euphoria in rapture, so proud he alone could make you like this over and over until you were out of air and exhausted, collapsing to the side of the bed and feeling the sheets very damp with bodily juices.

Robert spooned you from behind, arms draped over to dangle his fingers on your swollen nipples and you matched his breathing in rhythm. Every time was somehow better than the last... Sex with him was as natural as breathing and you appreciated the consistent chemistry that you worried would have faded after a couple years of marriage due to what you'd heard about stress and boredom destroying a couple's sex drive, but Robert was not a boring person in the least sense of the term.

"We should do this every night," you offered hopefully and he chuckled.

"And make me the most lucky, tired man in this whole community? I'd be up for that, although it'll be a wonder if I get any work done at all when I've got this memory lingering with me tomorrow," he replied and you heard the smile in his tone, but with it came the bitter resurgence of the likely phone call from another woman that was bile in the back of your throat and even though he supposedly broke it off with her before you got married, you knew he had stayed in contact and you couldn't help but wonder how he fucked her and if it was comparable to what you and him had with each other, since she seemed to want him so badly. That wasn't to mention "Kitty" who he had insisted on still being "friends" with. A bit depressed and irritated, you pushed away his hands off your breasts and turned back over to face him in the dimness that made even those prominent blue colored eyes of his too muddled to see into.

"How did you become the most desired physicist to women in the whole country?" you asked softly.

"Good genes?" he guessed in amusement and you shook your head, not requiring a punchline.

"You're known to be a womanizer, neurotic, eccentric, a tad arrogant, and yet everybody seems to want you, including me as your own wife. Tell me, why did the universe give you such magnetized gifts?"

He gave a subtle lift of his shoulders with a small lazy smile as you laid your head on the pillow, fending off fatigue.

"Why was Aphrodite the one chosen to be blessed with such beauty and fertility? Why are we the way that we are? There are some matters of the human being to be unfounded in the definitive and everything is relative." He sat up with his back against the headboard and proceeded to light another cigarette and you sleepily watched the hazy smoke drift off above the bed towards the ceiling. He sighed, setting it to rest in the ashtray on the nightstand and wrap his lean arm around your body, drawing you close into his side.

"You are my goddess, Y/N. You are the only woman I want to return home too, always. Don't you know that?" he murmured into your hair and you vaguely nodded.

"I do, but I also know you're not always the most faithful man."

He lifted his hand and touched his ring finger to yours, matching the simple gold bands you both shared as two united.

"I married you out of good faith and the vows we pledged might have well been written in stone in the language of the gods along on the pulmonary arteries flowing as though a river into my heart," he told you with no trace of doubt, but you knew the whole story that didn't need flourishing.

"Only because the two other women fell through on commitment - although tonight I suspect they both presumably still want you - and one was already hitched, so she was having an affair by being with you and wouldn't divorce unless you happened to get her pregnant. I just happened to be the most available, the convenient bride with no attached strings, even though everyone said it was abnormally soon and I am too young," you recounted bitterly and he frowned, tilting your chin upward.

"Is that how you see it? I have never fallen for someone as fast and as hard as I did for you. I still feel the way I did when I laid a glimpse on you at Mary Ellen Washburn's party."

You smiled despite yourself and he bent to kiss the top of your head as you snuggled into his chest, absentmindedly fondling his moist cock with your fingers.

"I do love you beyond comprehension, Y/N," he whispered and you glanced up, meeting his look.

"I do too and I want to believe I always will, until the end of our existence. I am not those other women and I do not want to become so."

A solemn seriousness grew over him and he closed his eyes as you felt tears suddenly spike and an unexplainable terrible sense of dread came over you.

"Promise me one thing, Robert." You paused, taking a deep breath.

"Promise me that whatever happens to us in this world, in this setting, that you will always find a way home and whatever we face, we face together."

He gave a single nod, but you sensed reluctance in the way a muscle in his jaw made a minor spasm.

"I will always do my best."

"Alright," you resigned and he sighed, relaxing back and settling down into the sheets, further roping his arms around you and you burrowed your face into his chest, feeling his light hair follicles tickle your forehead. Tomorrow - and the future for that matter - was uncertain, but at least tonight was building up to a promise of solid sureness, a safeness, bonding those atoms of love again.

Love, or the feeling of it, was a lot like quantum mechanics; essentially invisible to the naked eye and complicated, but the one difference was that it was unmeasurable. No amount of numbers or equations could add up the real affection you felt for your husband, even when the waters became too choppy to be comfortable and it was far from perfect. You just had to cement the fact that you were Mrs. Oppenheimer and that wasn't going to change anytime soon, any disruptive external factors be absolutely damned to hell.

Thanks for reading, expect a little drama for chapter 2... And I do not have a full outline to every part of this fic, so please be patient as I find spare time to work on it and upload. I always appreciate any likes, reblogs, and feedback ❤️

*If anyone would be interested in being tagged, drop a comment and I'll make a tag list for the next part!*

[pedropascallme]

OH GIVE US SOME JEALOUS JIM!

Think He’d Do What I’ve Done?

Pairing: jealous!Jim x f!Reader

Summary: "He knew it was ridiculous, knew that what the two of you had was nothing short of intense, something wonderful and miraculous that had come out of catastrophe. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of embarrassment surrounded by these people while the girl he loved was seemingly ignoring him."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral (f & m receiving), fingering, p in v sex, creampie, cum play, praise kink, overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics (dom!Jim x sub!Reader) (listen Jim FUCKS I do not make the rules), if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Your wish is my command! Sorry that this took so long, but good lord I had fun writing it. I will always be a slut for dom!possessive!Jim it's not even funny.

Jim was indebted to the people that surrounded him in the house he stood in; Hannah’s family, however distant they may be, had made an amazing effort to ensure you all had a fresh start in America. The cousins and aunts and uncles and whomever that stood around the living room, sharing well wishes and anecdotes, who had provided housing and employment opportunities, were all so kind. So he didn’t like the voice in the back of his head that told him otherwise when he looked over at you.

One of Hannah’s cousins had an arm around you while you admired the different pictures sitting on the mantle. Jim watched you laugh at whatever remark he was making and scoffed, disillusioned by the way your eyes shined up at the man when you spoke to him.

He knew it was ridiculous, knew that what he had with you was nothing short of intense; something wonderful and miraculous that had come out of catastrophe. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of humiliation surrounded by these people who bordered strangers while the girl he loved was seemingly ignoring him. After all that, it seemed as though every time you found yourself in a room with these relatives, this cousin found his way to you, and you to him. It had Jim silently fuming.

Jim left the gathering early, only muttering a goodbye to Hannah, who, for what it’s worth, rolled her eyes at his obvious melancholy.

“You’re not waiting for her?” In true fourteen-going-on-forty nature, Hannah pried.

Jim mumbled a noise of rejection, padding out of the house and heading for the apartment he shared with you.

~~~

“You left early!” You walked back into the apartment you shared with Jim, jokingly accosting him the moment you crossed the threshold. Jim didn’t look up from his spot on the couch, flicking through the TV channels and bouncing his leg.

“Didn’t think you’d notice.” He was dry, and you felt your heart somersault at his cadence—he felt his do the same. He knew he was acting like a child, but he didn’t know how to confront what in his mind was an issue.

“Course I noticed,” you shook off your jacket, dropping it on the coffee table in front of him, “you alright?” Jim shrugged, and you sat down on the couch next to him. You watched him continue to browse TV channels.

“Hannah’s cousin likes you.” It was blurted and came out as more of a shout than a statement; it caught you both off guard.

“No he doesn’t.”

“I didn’t say which one.” Jim was brooding, upset that you were further proving his point without even trying. He shut off the television and set the remote down next to your jacket on the table.

“You—you didn’t have to, I know who you're talking about,” you looked at your hands, folded on your lap, “but he doesn’t.”

“Do you like him?” Jim followed your line of sight, looking down at your hands. He felt a knot forming in his stomach; the concept of such strong feelings that had nothing to do with the need to survive made him anxious.

“Jim…” You looked up at him, brows knit and lips curving up at the edges, “are you jealous?”

“N—” he tried to protest before you cut him off.

“You are.” You grinned, and he could see the devious glint in your eye. “You think I want him.”

“Didn’t say that.”

“It was implied.” You crossed your arms, somewhat offended that he could think you would be able to look at any man the way you looked at him, but pleased by his possessive nature.

Jim reached around you and rubbed up and down the back of your neck, and you playfully turned your head away from him, hoping he would put in the work for whatever answer he wanted. When you moved your body away from his, you felt the hand resting on the back of your neck stop moving, taking hold of you in a gentle, haughty manner.

“Look at me,” he asked nicely, and so you did, “think he’d do what I’ve done?”

You smiled, enjoying the way he responded to your teasing, “I don’t know. Maybe.” You batted your lashes and Jim pouted. “Depends on what you think you’ve done.” You felt the hand he had on your neck tighten, and a shiver ran down your back.

“Think he’d kill for you?” The air felt thick around you, and you remembered how much you enjoyed Jim’s more domineering moments.

“No.” You whispered, tilting your head up in the hopes that he would give in.

“Do so much for you, don’t I?” He smiled, and you saw the Jim you fell in love with shine out from under the dominant exterior he had fashioned for himself tonight.

“Show me what you do for me.” Your pleading was acknowledged in seconds when Jim grabbed you by the waist and helped you find the proper footing to straddle him. You moaned into his mouth, and he made quick work of the top you were wearing, throwing it blindly onto the floor. You ground your hips down into his, and you could feel the gentle friction of his growing erection against your clothed core. The kisses were messy, teeth clacking gently against each other as you licked his tongue. You pulled away from Jim, who moved down to your neck and chest, marking you with love bites and licking gently at your pulse points. You pushed him back onto the couch, wordlessly lowering yourself to your knees and beginning to undo his zipper.

“Baby…” He smiled down at you, head resting on his arms as he leaned back into the cushion of the couch. He helped you remove his cock from the confines of his jeans, stroking himself. “Open.”

You opened your mouth wide, happy to let him take control, to prove that you were his and his alone. He watched as you placed a kiss on the head of his cock, taking his length in your hands and shooing his own hand, still loosely holding the base of himself, away. You moved your wrist up and down, steadily taking more of him in your mouth as you did, using the spit that dribbled down his shaft to lubricate the motion of your hand. Jim let out a breathy chuckle when you managed to fit most of him down your throat, running his fingers through your hair and pulling stray strands out of your face.

“God—yeah, like that.” His jaw was slack while he analyzed every move you made. “Just like that, sweetheart.” You tried to smile with his cock in your mouth, getting another huffed laugh from him, before you returned to your prior movements. You licked the tip of his cock in a circular motion, pumping up and down with your hand, before attempting to take as much as you could into your mouth. You repeated these gestures to Jim’s delight.

“Fuck, so good—fuck, that’s it, oh my god, baby.” He tugged on your hair in a half-hearted effort to remove you from his cock, but you allowed yourself a few more bobs up and down before listening to the message he was sending.

Jim cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb wandering over your swollen, saliva coated lips. “So good for me.”

“All for you.” You found a steady rhythm for your breathing.

“That’s right.” He pulled you in for a kiss, letting the spit on your face cover his own mouth and chin. “Do you like sucking me off, baby?” You nodded, eyes hooded and pupils blown out; you wanted to tell him that you could go down on him for hours, but the words wouldn’t come out, head too clouded with need. “Want me to show you more? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?” It was rare that Jim became this controlling, but you felt it go to your cunt every time he did. You nodded again, and Jim stood up, removing what remained of his clothes—and of yours—before easing you onto the couch and moving your legs to rest on his shoulders as he knelt in front of you.

“Say please.” Jim kissed your inner thigh.

You might’ve rolled your eyes under different circumstances, but something about his tone and the way he nipped at your leg turned you into the picture of obedience. “Please, Jim…”

“Please what?” He grinned, perfectly aware of how torturous his treatment was.

“Please,” you were getting impatient, and he knew it, you could see in his eyes how much he relished watching you squirm, “please fuck me, Jim—touch me, please, please.”

His smile turned into something more sinister when he heard you beg, and it was only then that he dove into you. You felt his tongue make contact with your clit and you yelped, the sudden and intense feeling making you jump under his hold on you. He tightened his grip on your legs, holding them firm against his shoulders so that your thighs all but engulfed his head. You could feel the vibrations of his moans travel through your body, and you wriggled underneath him when his tongue broke past your entrance and he licked gently into you. You couldn’t tell what was his spit and what was your wet, everything seemingly running together—and you didn’t really care, either. He suckled on your clit and teased a finger into you, looking at you intently while you came undone for him.

“Think he could do it better?” He moaned into your core, and you were broken out of your haze mostly by the shock that he still had the time to be jealous while he was buried between your legs —though not dissatisfied by the way he managed to show you who you belonged to while forcing you to acknowledge it.

“N—o!” You squeaked at him when his finger hit your sweet spot.

“Think anyone could do it better than me?” He continued to hound you between licks over your bud, fingers rubbing gently across the spongy spot inside of you.

“N—just—fuck, just you! Only you, Jim, only you.” You moaned, pleasing him immensely and motivating him to press down just a bit more on your g-spot while he sucked harder on your clit. Your legs, weak with gratification, shook in their spot on his shoulders, and you felt the fire that had started in your stomach spread across your body. He continued to lick stripes up and down your clit, finger still curling inside you while you rode out your climax.

“That’s right,” Jim kissed your dripping hole, noticing the way you flinched when his breath fanned the now sensitive area, “only me. All for me”

You moaned a pitiful confirmation, and he stood up. He rearranged you so that you were lying properly on the couch, head propped up by a pillow next to the cushioned arm.

“Gonna let me show you more, now, yeah?” You trailed a hand down his stomach, looking up at him from your spot underneath him as he straddled your legs. “Wanna let me fuck you into the couch?” You sighed dreamily, nodding with enthusiasm. “So good f’me.” He lined himself up with your entrance, continuing to whisper praises down at you, before pushing his cock into your desperate cunt little by little.

“Fuck, Jim!” You couldn’t help the expletive; no matter how many times he fucked you there was still so much joy in the way he filled you up to the very brim.

“Good, yeah? Feels good, sweetheart?” He bent forward and pushed your legs up more to allow him to fit deeper inside your cunt.

You whined, eyes screwed shut and lips parted, as he pressed his cock into you. You felt him bottom out, and he brushed his fingers over your cheek, kissing you gently across the face.

“Want—will you—will you fuck me?” You encouraged him, wanting—needing—him to move, to let you enjoy the way he pumped in and out of your pussy.

“You want me to move, baby?” He cooed, leaning forward to whisper into your ear, “Want me to fuck you nice?”

“Please!”

“Say it, then. Say my fucking name.” His breathing was labored, a product of the effort it was taking to hold himself back.

“Please, Jim, I need you to fuck me, I need it, Jim—I need it!” You felt like crying, the way he filled you up and mocked you was entirely too pleasurable. Hearing you beg as if you were on the verge of tears was all he needed, and he pulled out until the tip of his cock was just barely kissing your hole, before he thrusted deep and rough back into you. You cried out, feeling the friction from the way your back rubbed against the couch with each of his hard thrusts into you, and the way his hips rubbed against your own with every move.

“God, fuck,” Jim watched the way your eyes rolled back after a particularly deep plunge into you, “gonna fuck you like I own you.”

“Y—oh! You do—Jim! You do!” You were so far into your own pleasure, you weren’t even sure if the words had come out properly or if they had been reduced to gibberish between the time it took for them to travel from your brain to your mouth. But when you heard him growl in your ear you knew he had heard you, and it registered to you both what you had said.

“Yeah?” His voice was laced with care but was so outwardly assertive, “yeah, I own this fucking pussy.” He raised your legs to rest them on his shoulders as they had when he’d eaten you out, and he used them now as leverage to bend you backwards so his cock was seated as far as your body would allow him. His name fell from your lips continuously as he pounded into you with seemingly no regard; he managed to pick up the pace slightly and your eyes watered, overwhelmed by the sensation of being used to the fullest extent and absolutely loving that you had this effect on Jim.

“Gonna fucking cum—fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he was panting, chest rising and falling rapidly in sync with his thrusts, “tell me—tell me how you want it, sweetheart, tell me.”

You didn’t respond fast enough to satisfy him, and you whimpered when his hand came down to smack your clit, then gasped at the way he soothed you by rubbing tight circles on the bud.

“Tell me.” He grunted.

“Want—Jim!—please, please, want you to cum in me! Please—please, Jim, need—need it inside.” Your back arched up in response to his ministrations, and his hand that wasn’t massaging your clit came up to squeeze your leg to his cheek.

“Fucking—oh, hell, gimme one more, baby, please.” The mask of dominance slipped slightly when Jim began to beg for you to cum one more time, “cum on my cock, baby, I’ll give you what you need—all for you, fuck!—good girl, my good girl…” He placed kisses onto your calf, still holding it over his shoulder while he fucked you stupid. You felt his cock sliding in and out of you, every vein catching against your walls and the fat head of his cock nudging the spots that you could never reach on your own. He felt velvety inside you, and the way he spoke only heightened your pleasure, the promise of feeling him fill you up with his cum only spurring you on further to reach your peak.

“Ji—I—fuck!” You choked out a string of profanities, punctuating each with a gasp of his name as you came for him. He smiled into your leg, turning to look down at your face to watch your eyes roll back and your mouth hang open while you came on his length. He felt the way you clenched around him and the sheen that your cum added to his cock, his own head lolling back as he felt himself fall over the edge.

Still squirming under him, overcome with the strength of your second orgasm and the way he continued to use your spent cunt, you felt him paint your insides with his load. He moaned out your name, still shallowly thrusting in and out of you, admiring how your pussy milked him for every last drop he had to offer you. You whined, needy and messy and fucked out, and he gave your clit a final few swipes with his thumb, smirking sadistically at the way you cried out at the overstimulation. Jim began to pull out of you slowly, eyes glued to your hole to observe how the mixture of his cum and yours leaked out of you and down over the curve of your ass, dripping over your asshole and thighs. He leaned down, pulling your legs open to lick and kiss at the mess the two of you had made.

“Jim!” You squeezed your legs together, thighs pressing against his ears. He came up from between your legs, licking his lips, before he brought himself up to your face to kiss you softly. You wrapped your arms around him, and you could feel the pressure of his chest against yours as he rested his weight onto you.

“Too much?” He whispered after a while of heavy breathing and fingertips tracing over one another.

“No…perfect.” You squeezed him closer to your body, lips grazing his ear. “You’re right, y’do so much for me.”

Jim laughed against you, and you shook with his chest, “I do two things for you—kill and cum.”

“Hope you only have to do one of those things from now on.”

“I plan on it,” he smiled, then deadpanned; “you mean cum, right?” You pushed him away playfully and he laughed. Scooping you up into his arms, he let you rest yourself against him, letting the liquid seeping out between your legs trickle down onto him. He hugged you to his chest, eyes suddenly heavy and body light with satisfaction. “I’d do anything for you.” He whispered, breath fanning the top of your head.

You pawed at his chest, eyes closed. “I know you would. Feeling is mutual.” He cradled your head in his hands, “He doesn’t like me—Hannah’s cousin—he doesn’t. He’s married. You’ve met his husband.”

Jim felt you smile into his skin, and he felt himself go red, embarrassed that he hadn’t made the connection, but too blissed out and used up to backtrack and claim he had known all along. “I love you,” he chuckled, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” You looked up at him, cozy and content with your position on his lap, “would’ve said something earlier, but I like when you get possessive.”

“Thanks for letting me prove a point.” He rubbed your back, head falling against the couch cushion behind him.

“Always happy to help.”

[floralcyanidee]

ɪ sᴇᴇ ғɪʀᴇ - ᴊ. ʀᴏʙᴇʀᴛ ᴏᴘᴘᴇɴʜᴇɪᴍᴇʀ

Cillian!Oppenheimer x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

request: scientist reader and Oppenheimer have sm sexual tension between them and trying to hide their feelings for each other cause they're colleagues but then when the Manhattan Project comes up and they both work on it together it just gets too much to handle. by @aporiasposts

disclaimer: this is a work of fanfiction. cillian's representation of oppenheimer is also fictional to a degree. if you dislike this kind of fanfiction, please keep scrolling and do not interact with this post. otherwise, have a lovely day. ♥

warnings: smut, penetrative sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, multiple positions used, mutual pining, years of sexual tension

word count: 2090

author’s note: please read the disclaimer several times if you must before you decide to comment something snarky or send a dense anonymous ask. (: this is my first time writing smut for Robert so it was interesting!! I rather enjoyed it and I think I'm going to finish the other smut I was going to write for him. also, I changed the request details a little. reader is a historian/ political scientist of sorts instead of a scientist. I feel like there is a lot of scientist!reader fics out there and wanted to be a little different haha. I hope everyone enjoys!

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Having a doctorate in history has led you to places you never thought possible. One of those places ended up being the University of California - Berkeley. You were given the opportunity to lecture there with some of the brightest minds in the country- one of them being physicist Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer. Your disciplines differed but had the same solid foundation of facts, evidence, and logic. Needing to see things to believe it for yourself was one thing the two of you had in common, which brought you together. You were interested in his lectures and as he was yours. Both of you have learned a lot from each other and have become good friends. However, there were times when you would interact, and it felt intense. You’d grade papers together in comfortable silence, sometimes stealing glances at one another. Whenever you caught Robert staring, you’d give him a small, knowing smile. When he caught you staring, he’d hold your gaze, which made you nervous. 

You enjoyed attending Robert’s political discussions after class to see how passionate he was about current issues. Dr. Lawrence, your other beloved colleague, often warned you to avoid them, but you ignored him. The energy you’d feel toward Robert every time he’d rant about how every person deserves the freedom and the right to choose was electric. It was the very basis of your beliefs as a historian and a professor. The two of you would often go for a cigarette in the courtyard between classes to enjoy the fresh air and discuss politics. Robert loved hearing your stance on things, especially since you knew your stuff about the history of politics and how things work with them. The tensions were high that day, and before you knew it, Robert leaned into you as you spoke. But before anything could happen, it was time for classes to resume. So you went your respective ways. 

When you were contacted by the government to assist on a top-secret project, you were shocked. They needed your expertise in politics and history, as well as your reading and writing skills. You asked if Robert would be involved due to his talent in psychics, but you got no answer. You didn’t take long to learn of Dr. Lawrence’s involvement in the project, and you were ecstatic to have someone you knew tagging along. He was worried about Robert not being present for the Manhattan Project simply because of his mutual and close friends being communists. You insisted you’d speak to Robert about the matter, but Ernest objected. However, after a meeting about the Spanish Revolution that Robert had held, Ernest blew up on him. He mentioned there was a project and that Robert wasn’t allowed on it as long as he was sticking his nose in communist politics. So, Robert stopped the meetings, and sure enough, General Leslie Groves eventually poked his way into Robert’s office one afternoon to discuss the Project. 

Now, the three of you were involved and had to leave Berkeley. Robert quickly assumed the position of Project leader and already had a location picked out for the Project headquarters. You had heard many stories of this location from him and demanded he take you to it before construction began. You and Robert left Berkeley and traveled to Los Alamos via horse, talking and laughing the whole time about your childhoods and times in school. You both decided to camp there overnight and enjoy the desert and its beautiful sky before dealing with the most significant project in human history. As you sat by the fire that night with Robert, you stared at the sky in wonder. Robert watched you with just as much wonder, enjoying seeing you smile. Because pretty soon, there wouldn’t be much to smile about.

By the time you had moved into Los Alamos and started getting to work, the tension between you and Robert was becoming impalpable. The camping trip solidified whatever was going on between you two- even if it was nothing at all as of right now. Robert ensured you were at every meeting so you could give your two cents if it was needed; you were the brains and the empathy of the project. Gen. Groves admired you for it because no matter how steep the project was getting, you never once panicked or got in over your head. He also admired how you managed to keep your hands off Robert despite how you looked at him. And one day, he mentioned it to you.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get out of here?” Gen. Groves asked you one day during a field test.

“Oh, uh,” you hadn’t given it much thought, “I’m not sure. Probably continue lecturing.”

“No one special in your life you want to be with?” Groves asked, a kind smile on his face.

“Not really,” you mumbled sadly, your eyes glanced over at Robert, “Not yet, anyway.”

“Maybe once all of this is over, you can pursue them,” Groves suggested knowingly, “We’re so close now. It won’t be long.”

You nodded, seeing that he knew who was on your mind just by how he studied you, “Maybe.”

After all the hard work and growing sexual tension over the tedious years at Los Alamos, the bubble separating you and Robert finally burst the morning of the Trinity Test. The test was a success, and Robert was basking in the afterglow. Everything from getting his hand shaken to being carried by the crowd of excited and ecstatic workers- it brought him some relief. There’s always sunshine before the rain. 

You invited Robert over to your quaint house on the outskirts of Los Alamos for your nightly glass of wine, but this time it was heavier. It was more meaningful because you finally accomplished what you’d been working so hard for. When Robert sat next to you on the chaise next to the fireplace, his leg touched yours. The sexual energy was like a thick, wet blanket. You took large gulps of your wine as Robert’s eyes stared into yours, his glass pressed to his lips with slower sips.

“I can’t believe it’s all over,” you shook your head.

“Me either.���

“What do we do now? What’s life after this going to be like?”

“I’m not sure about that,” Robert had set his wine down on the floor, “But I’m sure about something else.”

“And what’s that?” you asked, polishing off your drink.

“You.”

You slowly sat back up after putting your empty glass on the floor by your feet, “Me?”

“Yes,” Robert paused, “Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted you in ways I can’t explain. And I can usually explain anything.”

You chuckled at that, nodding in agreement, “That you can.”

Robert leaned in, and your smile faltered. His hand reached up to touch your cheek gently, his thumb pushing some of your hair out of the way. Your eyes fluttered shut as you waited with bated breath for Robert to finally, finally kiss you. It had been years of waiting now. And the second his lips pressed to yours, all that time seemed to drift away. There was an explosion in your chest at the feeling of Robert pressing against you on the chaise, pushing you down onto its cushions. His coat and tie have long since been discarded, so all you have to do is worry at the buttons of his shirt with your shaking fingers. Eventually, you get the shirt opened and off his slender frame as it hovered over you. Robert let his skillful tongue slip past your lips with ease, exploring every centimeter of your mouth. How you had longed for this moment.

“Need you, Robert,” you pulled away for air and sighed as his hands pushed up your legs and underneath your dress, “Always have.”

“I’m here, darling. I’m here now.”

Robert shoved the skirt of your dress over your hips and stomach, revealing your slowly soaking white and dainty underwear. He hummed in satisfaction when his finger circled the wet spot at your entrance, causing a moan to leave your lips.

“Eager, are we?” he teased, pulling down your underwear without hesitation.

“Yes,” you said bravely, “Now, nothing fancy tonight. We have plenty of time for other things, but for now, I need you inside me.”

“Alright then,” Robert chuckles, hastily unbuckling his slacks before pushing them far enough down his legs to be comfortable.

He glided his tip along your slickness, gathering all he could to push inside you with less friction. You whined at the contact, a wanton moan escaping you suddenly as he moved into you at a patient pace. But you were anything but patient, especially at this point. You pushed your hips, causing Robert to enter you further, to which he let out a delicious groan. His hands gripped your sides intensely, sure to leave bruises tomorrow. He buried his face in your neck, his teeth baring down into the skin as he felt you suck his cock in. 

“Wanted- needed this for so long,” Robert whispered in your ear as his tip finally brushed against your insides.

“God, me too,” you cried out when he slowly pulled back out and then slammed back into you, “Fuck.”

“Such a dirty mouth,” Robert tutted playfully, to which you flashed him a smile, moving your hips to wiggle him further inside you.

Robert had thrust himself into you again, this time a little faster than the last. He kept doing this until he had a steady rhythm, lifting your legs to put on his shoulders to get a better angle. You growled at the sensation of him hitting your cervix, and your hands scratched down his back. Robert picked up speed, almost making the chaise scoot on the floor. He was fucking you like mad, and you were taking every second of it like his cock was water and you were thirsting in the desert. In this situation, the figure of speech wasn’t too far from the truth. The feeling of him repeatedly steering into your stomach made you nearly squeal from pleasure. Robert presses your thighs to your shoulders, the undersides of them against his chest. You were a mess, moaning like a whore and gripping Robert as if you blinked hard enough, he’d disappear.

“Taking me like such a good girl,” Robert grunted, moving a hand to your cunt to swipe at your clit in time with his thrusts.

You tossed your head back, crying out at the sensation. No one had ever fucked you with such vigor and passion. You felt that growing bubble in your gut, expecting it to burst any second.

“Cum in me,” you demanded, “Need to feel you.”

Robert laughed breathlessly at you, “Are you sure?”

“Certain.”

And as if he weren’t going fast enough, he pulled out, flipped you over, and took you from behind even faster than before. Robert pushed your cheek into the chaise cushion, watching you as you side-eyed him with utmost pleasure. You could feel yourself clenching around him, your orgasm creeping up. Robert pushed your lower back down as far as it’d go, your stomach flush with the material of the chaise underneath you. Your ass being in the air caused Robert to hit a new spot inside you, sending you reeling and spilling over the edge. As your cunt suffocated his cock with its walls, Robert followed your release with his own. His hot cum filled you up with warmth, your hips still bouncing against him. Robert panted from behind you, slowly pulling himself out of your now-dripping pussy. 

You rolled back onto your back, now facing Robert, “That was… wow,” you exhaled.

“I concur,” Robert joked, sitting back and pulling you onto his lap.

You hummed in exhaustion, blissed out as you hung your head on his shoulder.

“Want to stay?” you asked tiredly, eyeing the now-spilled remainder of wine Robert had placed on the floor earlier. You’d worry about it tomorrow.

“I’d love to,” Robert muttered into your ear, kissing it before picking you up off his lap.

The rest of your night is spent watching Robert study you as you lay beside each other in bed. He took you in as if he was seeing you in a new perspective- and he was. Robert was as curious about you as he was about the world and how it worked. Except now, he had to worry about not destroying you like he had the world.

taglist:

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[floralcyanide]

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

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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.”

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