#female reader x Cillian Murphy
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A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Twelve)
Absolutely not based on anything real all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.
Gif credit - @remembering-angels
Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.
We Got Issues
Part Twelve: Cillian arrives back in Dublin for a mere two days for the Dublin premiere of Small Things. Y/N doesn't get the reception she'd hoped for, and the tip of the iceberg of their issues is aired. They're a united front for the event, and a force back home. [Adult themes. Sexual scenes.]
@remembering-angels @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @vivianleighwishesshewasme @meister95 @meadowshelby @lavender-haze-01 @strangeions
Cillian had barely been home an hour when mortal war broke out.
The Dublin premiere is hours away, and he is in the foulest of moods. Nothing you say is right, nothing you do is right, and God forbid you look at him, because that's wrong too. Standing in the bedroom doorway, with your arms folded across your chest, you try to work out in your head how you've gone from throwing your arms around him at the airport, to watching him right now as he paces the bedroom, arms swinging and face contorting, as every curse word and hateful comment he can find spills from his lips. As far as you can work out, all you'd done is ask if he'd spoken to his sons to tell them he was here and arrange a takeout night here at home tomorrow. You don't see a problem with that question at all, but clearly something about it is rubbing him up the wrong way. His eyes are expressive and his accent is thicker, clipping his words and sharpening his tongue. “Ah, don't be standing there with the face on you, looking at me like I'm fucking being a prick.” He roars, but is finally standing still. Albeit he is standing before you with a venomous look.
“You are! I just asked you a question.” You snap back, unlacing your arms from your chest. “A fucking question, Cillian! I just asked if you'd talked to the boys, that's all. I'm sorry that I thought it might be nice to have them over for a fucking Chinese or something.”
“That's not all you fucking said though, Y/N, is it?” He shakes his head. “The little added fucking ‘so they get to see you for a bit’ was un-fucking-called for.”
“You're back in England in two days, Cillian, until nearly fucking Christmas. I thought it would be good for them to see you. And good for you to see them.” You shout loudly back at him. “What did I say that's so fucking wrong? I want you to invite your kids over. What is bad about that?” You're really struggling to see what you've said so out of line, but you can see there's clearly something happening here. He's livid, completely enraged, and there's a shake to his hand when he thrusts it towards you.
“You think I don't know about the amount of time I'm away? You think that I don't know about how fucking little I see them? Y/N, I don't need reminding of what a fucked up situation I have with my kids!” He yells.
And there it is. He hasn't taken your question, or suggestion, as that at all. All he's heard, in his terrible mood, is a criticism of his availability for his boys and of his parenting. You know those misconstrued words, mixed with your call a couple of days ago, his very poor sleep, a busy working schedule, his brain being at least half overtaken by his role, and whatever else is flooding through his head that he doesn't speak about, has exploded completely. Unfortunately, you're in the blast zone. You close your eyes and sigh, and when you open them he has sat down onto the edge of the bed.
“I didn't say anything to deliberately make you feel bad, Cill. It was just a suggestion of something to do, a question if you'd already done it. It wasn't a joke, or a dig at your parenting. You're not just away and not bothering with your kids, you're working. It isn't the same as just leaving them. You have them here every Sunday for dinner, you get Aran from school whenever he asks if you're home, you drive Malachy around all the time. You're not in a fucked up situation - you're a working parent. I wasn't criticising you.” You insist, staying put in the doorway even though he did seem a little bit calmer. You'd wanted him to come home and for it to be soft and calm, for you to have the time with him you'd needed days earlier. But this was your lot. “I didn't want this.” You say, and you realise that the emotion is creeping into your throat. “I wanted you being here to feel good. I've missed you, and I've fucking needed you, and I've wanted to know that…that were okay, and we can be okay.” Your words catch and you swallow around the painful lump in your throat. “I'm sorry you thought that I was getting at you - if I said it wrong, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it.”
He lifts his head from staring at the floor and he looks at you directly. His eyes are still sharp, and you can see the fast rising and falling of his chest. “I didn't want to come home like this either.” He says, more measured and quiet. “I really overreacted.” He admits and for a moment it shocks you. “I'm in the worst fucking mood, and I'm taking it out on you and it isn't your fault.” He sighs and casts his eyes back down, suddenly seeming to find his hands very interesting.
“Why?” You ask carefully, trying to control yourself from full upset. “Why is your mood so bad?”
“I'm fucking wrecked,” he says, raising his head again. “I'm so tired, I'm fucking juggling so many fucking balls.” He shrugs. “I hate boredom, but it's still hard. I miss you, I miss the kids,” he licks his bottom lip. “And I fucking…I fucking felt so relieved when you said the test was negative, but I know that it hurt you to get that result. I feel bad that I don't want what you want here, and that I didn't tell you sooner. I'm sorry for that night in London, I'm sorry for not understanding that I was fucking with your head.” You stand rooted to the spot in the doorway as he gives his confession. Cillian is stubborn, and often holds onto his core or close beliefs regardless of your suggestions. Hearing him letting down walls to tell you he's wrong feels like you've switched though to an alternate dimension. “I wanted to come home and put my fucking arms round you like you needed, I wanted to do that. I didn't. I should have. I know you said you can accept I changed my mind, but I'm not stupid enough to think that means you'll change yours back too, at least not right away. I know you've got to a place where you're ready for a child.” He sighs. “We need to talk about this properly. We need to make decisions together properly.”
And though you know it might start the row again, you can't help the words that fly from your mouth. “Yes. Decisions together. Being you and me, not Yvonne.” When he looks at you with a sharpening to his eyes, you wait for the bomb to go off. But you also proceed. “Your sons matter, too, but your ex wife isn't part of our choices. It's me you should be talking to about what goes through your mind, not her. Whether we do or don't decide that we're going to have a baby, in the small time period we have before were too fucking old, it cannot be determined by her. You say I'm anxious about you going back to her, but you don't assuage that at all when you're calling her for a fucking chat about whether or not I'll be getting pregnant!”
He stares at you and his tongue swipes quickly over his lips. “I know.” He says quietly. You suspect he wants a further chance to discuss this, but you both can feel the depth of the row is passing.
“I know you don't want a baby, I know your mind has changed. And as much as I'd got my head around the idea and was hoping for a baby soon, I can accept that and I can take the time and reconcile. I can.” You mean what you say, despite the multiple conflicting feelings. You want him more than a child. “We don't have to have a child. But I don't want us to not have a child because it's what she wants. It isn't about her. So if that's why your mind changed, then we really need to look at who's in this relationship.”
He sighs loudly but he doesn't argue further. “Y/N,” he says quietly.
You are soft and calm as you speak once again. “I love you, Cill. I want you here for the rest of my life, I want us here, together, happy and proud of our life together. After tonight, after Christmas…whenever, we need to talk about what it is that you really want.” You can see by his expression he is a little knocked back by your words. Does he think you're suggesting a break-up after all this time? Is that what you mean? You walk into the bedroom fully and stop in front of him. He looks up at you, and instantly he places his hands against your hips. He needs the touch as much as you do, you can see easily. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and your hand takes up its habitual spot near the base of his neck, still missing the flicky curls to toy with. “We don't go out there tonight mad with one another.”
“No, of course, I don't want that.” He says, very calm.
“It's a big night here for you all - this film, this story, your work finally showcased here, at home in Ireland. I'm so proud of you, I love you, and I want you to enjoy this as much as you can.” You say as you move your face closer to his, bending a little at the waist. His hands stay on your hips. You kiss his full, pouting lips softly. With your forehead against his, you dance your fingers at the nape of his neck. “I love you.” You say softly.
“I know,” he whispers back. “I love you, too.” he rests his head against your belly as you stand straight, your hands still around his shoulders and neck. “I'm really sorry,” he says quietly. “I overreacted, I'm so sorry.”
“We draw a line under it, okay.* You say calmly. You can appreciate the concoction of pressures he's feeling, even in your own unmet need for the intimacy of his arms when he got home, and you know his sorry and probable guilt are genuine. “Tomorrow, or when you're finished in England, though, we'll have a real talk. Yeah? Get everything laid out in the open and get everything clear in our heads. We don't need to agree on everything, but we need to know we want enough of the same things. Especially the important things.*
He lifts his head a little and peers up at you, long lashes tickling against his cheeks as he blinks slowly. The freckles on his face are standing out more and his eyes are glistening and accentuated in the light overhead. “Yeah, definitely.” He says with a little nod. The conviction in his voice makes you feel seen and heard. “I'll ring boys before we leave, and arrange something for tomorrow evening.” He says, and you smile softly; that's all he had to say earlier, you consider, and this could have been avoided. But you consider the air cleared, too, and that's not a bad thing.
-
“Y/N?” Cillian calls out loudly.
In the bedroom, fastening your necklace around your neck before the full length mirror, you drop your arms down and cast your eyes over your full reflection. “Yeah?” You call back. He's downstairs, dressed and ready to leave, and you know he's both excited for the night and the reception, and anxious about it. When he doesn't respond you call out again. “What?”
“Are you fit?” He shouts again, “We've to go.” You reach for your phone to check the time. Shit! It's later than you thought, and you've not even fixed your hair or found your shoes.
“Yeah. Two minutes!” You yell back to him, and your stomach twists with a little apprehensive anxiety when the stairs creak a little as he begins to walk up them. Running your hands through your hair as you look back into the mirror, you turn your head when the bedroom door moves from halfway open to all the way, and you give a coy smile when you see Cillian standing there with one eyebrow raised.
“Two minutes?” He questions. “You've bare feet, Y/N,” he smirks. “C’mon,” he encourages gently, “The car will be here in a minute. They'll be waiting on us.”
You let your hair fall as it will, and dig around in the wardrobe for your black knee-high boots with the kitten heels. Wearing opaque black tights, a detailed pinafore with a deep red polo neck top beneath it, you feel wintery but chic, and you know that Cillian likes the above-knee length of your pinafore. “Looks okay?” You ask, sitting on the edge of the bed to zip up your boots.
“Grand,” he nods, “But sure you'd look good in a bin bag.” He smiles, and you smile brightly. As you stand up, he looks at you with a soft smile, his head tilted slightly, and he swipes his tongue across his lips. “You look beautiful.” The deep burgundy-brown shade of his shirt and dark blazer over the top is a clean and classy look, and somehow it makes the silvery sheen to his hair and the crystal blue of his eyes stand out more. He's beautiful, too, you think. “Will we go?” He asks and hovers his hand over the light switch in preparation to turn off the light as you leave the room.
You grab your phone from the dresser, mentally remind yourself that your coat is downstairs, and give him a nod of agreement. “Let's go.”
He plunges the room into darkness and proceeds down the stairs with you following closely behind. You find your coat in the cupboard in the hallway and pull it on over your outfit. It's part of the look, and you feel confident enough in your choice. You take your handbag from the banister and throw your phone and a set of house keys into it. Peering inside, you ensure you have ‘the essentials’ - a strip of paracetamol, emergency period products for any unexpected arrivals (because being female is unpredictable), Tic-tacs, and a cereal bar with a battered up wrapper that's been in there for weeks, because Cillian was hungry and grumpy one day so you'd grabbed two in a local shop and now you just carried the spare one around - then throw the strap of the bag up onto your shoulder.
“Jays, girl, your two minutes takes a fuckin' half-hour.” Cillian teases, shaking his head, with his hand in the handle of the front door. He's deliberately thickened up his accent, and he knows it makes you smile.
You chuckle to yourself as you fix the collar on your coat, “I'm ready!” You say, eyebrows high on your forehead.
“Right so, c’mon,” he says, pulling open the door. As the door is dragged wide, the car pulls into your driveway. You let Cillian step out as you set the alarm and lock up. He waits patiently, though, and insists with a smile that you get into the car before him as he holds open the door.
It's busy when you arrive. Enda and Eileen greet you both in a familiar and friendly way, and you’re pleasantly overwhelmed - if that's possible - at the reception everyone is greeted with. While the basic experience and expectations are the same as in London, somehow here it feels different. You feel more excited for him this time, and he seems to be brighter in himself. It's home, in the place this all began, and it's like he feels even prouder to be standing here tonight than he has of the entire project so far. You admire his passion, and that of Eileen, too, as they deliver speech after speech to camera after camera and person after person. You hide as much as you can, but you stay within his sight lines, and you notice he looks for you frequently. It warms your heart, especially after the events back at home, and you can't help smiling every time your eyes meet.
As soon as he gets the chance, after ensuring he can see you among their people, Cillian approaches after bidding goodbye to the string of journalists. Eileen isn't far behind him, nor is Emily, and suddenly you're not standing unassumingly alone. The eyes following Cillian, Emily and Eileen are on you now, too, as you're ushered inside the building at last. Cillian takes your hand, lacing your fingers together immediately. “This is mad,” he whispers, smiling as you walk together. He's not quiet enough that Eileen doesn't hear, but you're sure nobody else has.
“Isn't it class?” Eileen turns her head over her shoulder briefly, then looks ahead again as you all continue inside the doors.
“Will Aran have photos for you from tonight, I wonder?” Cillian smirks, and you smile at the suggestion.
“Thank you for that, by the way,” you say, raising your voice from the private whisper when you clear away from all the people at last. “They cheered me up.”
“Sure it was his idea,” Cillian says as he glances around, then looks at you. “He sent me the yoke and asked if he should send it to you too.” He smiles, cheeks pushing high up under his eyes.
“What does a woman have to do to get a drink?” Emily laughs, rubbing her hands together. “I'll forgo the tea tonight, I think.” She smiles brightly.
You laugh, “I was just about to ask!” You shift your feet on the spot, waiting for the next instruction, and keep your eyes on Cillian even as he steps away to speak to Eileen. Knowing where he is, and how he is, seems to make you feel calmer. If he's good, in this situation, then you know it's all okay. “How was your flight?” You make polite conversation with Emily, and listen intently as she engages with you brightly. You'd grown fond of her in the small interactions and meetings you'd had, and you kind of hoped there'd be at least a distant friendship to remain in the future. You peer over Emily's shoulder briefly as Cillian laughs, his head back slightly, and you wonder what Eileen has said to elicit the big reaction. Looking back to Emily, you smile politely as you realise you have missed what she'd just said. To make your ignorance less awkward you look around you again then stop her, “Sorry, I'm not ignoring you,” you lie gently, “Can you see the loos?”
Emily smiles, “Behind the stairs,” she turns and points behind Cillian and Eileen.
You dip away, simply to avoid embarrassing yourself, and feel a little like you're drawing attention to yourself as the only one moving when your boots clip off the tiled floor beneath you. You seek out the door to the ladies in the direction you've been led and disappear inside. You walk to the sink and stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment. Your makeup has stayed well, despite the damp weather, and you feel pretty tonight. You fix your hair a little and take a deep breath, your eyes still on your reflection, and when the door opens to the left of you it makes you jump. You whip your head around, and fix a smile to your face as Eileen steps inside.
“Oh, you're here. And himself looking for you out there,” she laughs then disappears into one of the stalls, locking the door as she enters. “He was telling me there about filming all night recently,” she calls out.
Lingering at the sink, you feel a little awkward. “Oh, yeah, poor guy isn't getting much kip.” You reply, not sure you particularly feel comfortable talking to her while she's in there! “I'll go out and find him then if he's looking.” You say, and without waiting to hear her reply, you quickly exit through the heavy door. It bangs behind you, signalling your arrival back into the large lobby, and you're convinced your cheeks are pinker than your lips as people you don't know turn to see what the noise was. To your relief, Emily is laughing a little at your discomfort, and oddly it's comforting, and just to her left are Cillian and Enda, looking at you, and you know it's more due to your awkward walk of shame than the noise of the door. You walk slowly towards Cillian, and immediately hide yourself in his neck as you hug into him. “Fuck sake,” you whisper, half laughing.
He laughs into your ear, then wraps one arm around you as you stand up straight beside him. “What's up with ya?” He smirks.
“Eyes,” you shrug. “I can't get used to being seen!”
He clicks his tongue, “Ah, you're alright,” he drops his arm from around your back and instead he takes your hand. “There's Eileen, now. Here, we'll go on in there,” he nods his head in the direction directly in front of him. He looks at you for a moment, reading your anxiety clearly. “C’mon,” he raises his eyebrows. “You're grand, I'll mind ya, c’mon.” he smiles and it's cheeky, playful even, and you're soothed by it. You allow him to lead you fully, and leave yourself at his mercy as you grip his hand.
-
It's late when you arrive home, via taxi, and you're both a little bit drunk. Neither had gone overboard, not with the knowledge that Cillian's boys were coming over tomorrow, but you'd both enjoyed a few drinks after the premiere with Eileen, Enda, and Emily in the bar of the hotel Emily was staying in. You stand at the front door, fumbling with your bag for the keys, whilst Cillian is no help at all as he hugs you from behind, nuzzling kisses into your neck and cursing the collar of your coat every other second for getting in his way. With a moan, you blink in the hopes of clearing your wine-fuzzy vision and dig around in the bag again, giving a quiet cheer when you finally get them out and you wave them about, laughing a little as the jingle in your hands.
“You've a rake of keyrings on that and you still couldn't get it?* Cillian chuckles, and annoyingly doesn't remove his hands from your waist as you step closer to the door to push the key into the lock. He steps awkwardly with you, catching the rounded toe of his shoe against the back of your boot, and curses your shoes then, too. “Fuckin’...” He mumbles, as he pushes his face close to your neck again. “Are you opening that or caressing it?” He asks, his lips moving against the skin on your neck, and laughs at his own joke.
It's him finding himself funny and giggling that makes you laugh, and you shake your head as the key finally slips into place. “You're not helping, you drunken git.” You tease him, pushing down the door handle to finally get inside. You pull the keys out and begin to walk, and only then does Cillian release you. You step inside and turn on the light, and swiftly disable the alarm before resetting it again once you lock the front door. Leaving the keys in the lock, you drop your handbag down and stand awkwardly as you unzip and drag off your boots. When you look up, Cillian is seemingly struggling to get his fingers to coordinate and unlace his shoes. “Did you have a few extra glasses that I didn't see?” You ask, laughing to yourself, as you pull off your coat. You lay it over the banister, instead of hanging it in the cupboard, and mean against the balustrade as you watch Cillian with a smirk.
He's still cursing at every minor bother, and drops down onto one of the steps of the stairs with a bit of a thump. “Fuck it, anyway!” He scoffs, and abandons the laces of his shoes in favour of toeing them both off by the backs. He gives each shoe a bit of of force and all but kicks them across the hallway, where they land in a clatter beside and on top of your boots respectively. “Not a bad shot though.” He laughs, and looks up at you, standing to his right, with your eyebrows raised and your lips in a tight line, trying to decide if you're going to smile at his behaviour or consider the implications of the amount he's had to drink.
“Were you and Enda taking shots or something?” You ask, only half serious, watching him get up from the stairs with a groan. He takes off his blazer and places it over your coat, and you move aside a little to allow him access to the banister. “Or did you two sink a few extra when I waited with Eileen for that fucking taxi?* The taxi had been cancelled twice before finally being assigned and sent, and you'd stayed with Eileen out at the front of the hotel for a good thirty minutes. You feel lightheaded and can certainly tell you've had a few drinks but it's amusing to you just how wobbly and loose Cillian seems to be.
“One maybe,” he stands before you with a soppy smile. His habitually sleepy eyes are even heavier, and when his smile broadens, what is visible of the blue in his eyes sparkles a little bit. “Enda’s a bad influence.” He smirks.
He opens his arms and wraps them around your waist and pulls you to him, closing the tiny distance between your bodies. The kiss he plants is soft and languid, but at the first touch of pressure from you kissing him back, he turns more fervent. He keeps one hand at the base of your back while the other moves a little higher. His breath huffs from his nose and each time he goes to apply more pressure with the kiss, his jaw stays open hungrily, his face touching yours, eagerly awaiting the feel of your mouth again. You know what he's after and you're willing to give it - even a few short days without him makes you long for him as much as he seems to long for you. You're not necessarily shagging every night, but when there's been a lack of hugs, kisses and gentle touches due to distance, sex is always on the cards as soon as it's an option. You want to stop him for a moment, just to remind him that the condoms aren't going to magically appear down here in the hallway, but it's him who stops first. He's lustful in his expression and he takes your hand and brings you towards the sofa. His hand is hot in yours and you know the arousal has built rapidly for him. Reaching the sofa, he pulls you to him again using your hand, and immediately kisses you deeply. His tongue slides against yours and his hands now cup around the sides of your face, keeping you where he wants you to be. Turning your head a little, you break the kiss and, potentially, the passion.
“Cill, love,* you say, and you watch him frown. “Either we need to take this upstairs, or one of us needs to go and grab a condom.”
“Not needed,” he says, shaking his head slowly. He releases your face and takes both of your hands. For a brief moment before he speaks again, you want to punch him at the possibility he's about to tell you he's changed his fucking mind. But he doesn't. “Get the tights off, and the underwear.” He says and there's a sudden huskiness fuelled by whatever he's planning igniting further arousal. “And get on the couch.” Your stomach flutters. Your eyebrows twitch as he tugs your arms a little, guiding you closer to the sofa. When you make no movements to do as he's instructed, you all but gasp when he uses both hands to push up the skirt of your pinafore and begins pawing at your arse and lower back in search of the waistband of your tights. You don't help, and instead you reach out your hand awkwardly between your bodies and cup your fingers around the bulge at the crotch of his trousers. You can feel the heat, and a small spot of moisture, and the infrequent twitches that tell you he's painfully hard. He achieves what he wants to, though, and you can feel the skin of his hands against your arse cheeks as he slides your tights and knickers down together. Even though he's occupied with his task, you don't miss the small thrust into your hand he gives before he bends abruptly, bringing your tights and knickers down to your ankles. Couched down, he reaches up one hand and lightly pushes you against your abdomen. You take the hint and fall back with a flop into the sofa. Once you're off your feet, he pulls the clothing away and throws it aside. He stays down, but moves onto his knees instead. Before he moves closer to you, he unfastens the button and zip on his trousers and pushes them down. With his knees planted on the floor, they can go no further than gathering there in the bend of his legs. The red boxer shorts he's wearing are teasingly dampened in a single but sizable spot, and tented pleasingly while the fabric moves a little as his cock twitches at the sight of you before him, knees wide and cunt on show.
You watch him intently as he reaches into his underwear, still uncoordinated from the alcohol, and withdraws his penis. He pushes his boxers down enough to move the waistband away from being restrictive. His balls sit tight on top of the red material and black waistband while, once released, his cock stands proudly with its ever-so-slight upward curve. Your eyes wander over every inch of his manhood, and you find yourself biting your lower lip in desire. You watch as he wraps one hand around himself, stroking slowly, then wordlessly arches his back down and sinks his face into your most intimate area. Skillfully, and immediately drawing a gasp of shocked delight from you, he runs his tongue up from your vaginal opening to your clit in a slow and teasing stroke. His hand is planted in your thigh and you know by the movements of his shoulder that his other hand is working his cock. He swipes his tongue down and up again, keeping it slow, and cups his lips around your labia with a soft sucking action. His tongue continues to move, up and down, in torturously wonderful, slow, sweeping movements. He takes his hand from your thigh, leaving the skin where his warm hand had been to be assaulted by the comparatively cold air that hits it in its absence. He's not aggressive but he doesn't hold back as he instantly inserts his index and middle finger into your lovingly moistened opening. With your vagina breached by his digits, moving in and out at a slowly increasing rate, he keeps his tongue entirely for your clitoral pleasure. After a moment to lick his lips, he speeds up his fingers as he licks and sucks against your clit. His lips surround your labia as his tongue moves in a controlled flicking back and forth. Your hands are on the back of his heads both guiding him and pulling him back when you feel like he's too quick - you don't want this over too soon. You can barely keep your eyes open as his fingers glide in once against and then he hooks them upward. Your hips rise up and he speeds up his tongue. He strokes and sucks and licks in such a teasing unison that your mind is black and your eyes are seeing stars before you're even on the edge.
You can feel the huffed breaths of air through his nose against your skin and you know that he's working his hand on himself equally as fast as he is his entire availability of tools on you. You're enjoying this too much - your hands through his hair and your cunt thrust against his face - but you're desperate for then orgasm he's teasing you with and you know he isn't far from decorating the sofa’s edge with his own excitement. You remove one hand from the back of his head, not sure what you're even planning to do, then slam it back down as he turns his tongue over your clit in some magical manner that makes your hips buck into him, thrusting your pussy into his whole face. You give up caring about savouring now and grip what you can of his hair as you grind your cunt into his face. He speeds up his fingers whipping in and out of your dripping entrance and your mouth falls open as you groan at the growing intensity of everything.
“Shit, Cill…” You breathe out loudly. “Fuck, Cill…fuck…fuck…” you cry out, “Jesus! Cill…!!!” You gasp loudly as his tongue works impossibly quickly, rolling and flicking and licking amazingly. “I'm c…shit, Cill, I'm….” you stumble and stammer your breathy words before you moan loudly, your jaw slack, and your walls tighten around his fingers as you cum against his face. You squeeze your thighs together involuntarily and keep his head locked in for the pleasure for a minute.
It's a mere few seconds later when the fingers he had inside of you are now planted on your thigh for stability as he strokes himself to orgasm, up on his knees, huffing quick and soft gasps and moans from the open mouth of a face that is slick and coated in you. He cums with a shudder, his fingers digging into your leg as you lie sated before him, and you don't mind as the act itself is achieved against your pubis. You've left your mark upon his face - your pubic hair can take his in return. You lie in a pile of limbs that are too heavy to move as he drops back, first sitting on his feet as he releases his very slowly softening penis, before he draws his own heavy legs out from under him and sits in an awkward tangle of limbs and clothing on the floor.
He sits with his hands held out like they're toxic for a minute, and if you weren't so woozy from the orgasm and the alcohol combining to make your eyes flutter, you might laugh. He looks a sight with your fluids all over his face, his trousers at his knees and his boxers placed funny, and you're sure his flaccid penis hanging over the waistband isn't as appealing now. But then you're sure you look a damn sight worse with your pinafore hitched up under your bust, your knees still spread wide and your pubic hair coated in his rapidly cooled semen. And then the laugh you couldn't muster falls from your lips, a sudden giggle that shakes your upper body a little. Cillian frowns at you and it only makes you laugh more.
“What's the matter with ya?” He asks, blinking his heavy lidded, drunken eyes slowly.
“We look disgusting.” You say, and your laughter starts again when Cillian's response is raised eyebrows and his mouth downturned, whilst actually looking at you, then himself, then back at you. You take a deep breath. “Wash your face, you dirty knacker!” You chuckle, and when Cillian smiles it makes your stomach tighten. God, you love him. In all the shit, in the good and the bad, you love him. You're comfortable to sit with your vagina on show and your bodies coated in one another's ‘leftovers’ and still your tummy flips when he smiles. You love him, and you can't see that ever going away.
“I'm a dirty knacker?” He says. He groans as he is the first to move, and he suddenly seems a little more sober - until he nearly falls over himself. “You've spunk all over you, you whore!” His accent thickens up and you know he's doing it to ensure you're aware he's joking when he calls you a whore. He looks at you as he tucks himself back into his underwear and, wobbling a little again, pulls up his trousers. As he fastens the zip he smiles at you softly. “Actually, you taste too good to be a whore.” He says and you're floored by his sexual openness. He isn't shy in asking for sex, nor in getting what he wants, but he is a passionately sexual person, not a kinky kind of sexual person, and hearing him talk like he just did and being party to his actions tonight, shows you a whole different side of his character when he dared enough. You wonder if it's all due to being Tommy again, or if he's finally showing you different places within him after all this time.
"You're so drunk." You chuckle.
He smiles sleepily then draws his lips in to a tight purse, one eyebrow raised high. "Yes." He nods, and it's so comical you can't help laughing harder. You're in deep with this one, you realise, and you're going to keep it that way even if it's a fight.
#cillian murphy#fanfiction#fanfic#my fic#my fic: we got issues#female reader#female reader x cillian#female reader x cillian murphy#y/n x cillian#y/n x cillian murphy#reader x cillian#reader x cillian murphy#female y/n#female y/n x cillian#fenale y/n x cillian murphy#we got issues#all total fiction
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Binding Love
(Masterlist)
Summary: Soon to be divorced and co-parenting with the notorious leader of the Peaky Blinders was never going to be a breeze. But when a number of unanswered calls and a string of dead bodies surface in your attempts to move on, you gain the attention of a detective and the pressing matter of his colleagues whereabouts, with whom you had spent one evening on a date with. Promising you witness protection in return for the evidence he was sure you had on his sole suspect, your husband. Your future is left in the balance when Tommy's paranoia and inability to let you go makes itself known as your codependency continues to show no signs of surrendering. Will you let yourself be free of the man whose love for you has consumed him? Do you even want to be?
Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, smut, psychological abuse, murder.
Authors Note: This is a Dark!Tommy series that some readers may find triggering. Please review the warnings before continuing.
Teaser Trailer
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven (completed series)
Gif credit: @mushroomseb. Go check out their amazing work!
#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#dark!tommy#dark!tommy shelby#dark! thomas shelby#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader insert#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x y/n#tommy shelby x female reader#tommy shelby x fem!reader#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby fanfiction#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby series#tommy shelby imagine#cillian murphy#peaky blinders#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders series#dark academia#dark fanfiction#dark romance
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Who You Belong To - Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow) x Fem!Reader SMUT
Summary: You and your professor share what could barely be called a relationship, but what's there is tricky and difficult to put a positive label on. When a fellow classmate successfully asks you on a date, Dr. Crane decides to make one thing clear: who you belong to.
Contents/Possible Warnings: Age Gap (Reader is in her early 20's, Crane's in his mid 30's), inclusion of original male character, student-professor relationship, unprotected sex, P in V sex, toxic relationship (?), creampie, semi-clothed sex, mentions of masturbation, degradation, semi-public sex (they fuck in an office), SMUT, MDNI
Other Notes: You can read part two here.
Some people say there's over four hundred estimated phobias, others say that number can be even higher at five hundred; no matter the number, you were sure Dr. Jonathan Crane knew every single one of them by heart. Your slightly off-putting psychology professor with a passion for fear and its workings shared a relationship with you that had breeched its professional expectations long ago. You couldn't tell what he was to you, exactly, but it certainly wasn't just your professor, not when he had been inside of you more times than either of you could count.
It wasn't uncommon for him to ask you to stay after class, leading into an invitation to his office before you found yourself bent over an expensive, wooden desk that had already been cleared off in expectation of you being pressed to it while you took him. Sometimes if he wanted to strike a bit of fear of getting caught into you, he'd fuck you right in the lecture hall, always letting you know how terrifying the consequences would be if someone else did something as simple as come back for a forgotten pen.
You may have been his favorite teacher's pet, but you were sure there were others. Jonathan was an attractive man who taught an already difficult class, it'd be no surprise to you if he had other women lined up for a chance to recieve a better grade from him in exchange for a little "extra- credit" assignment, as much as you hated to admit it to yourself. He was never yours to begin with.
"Care to tell me why you're staring down at your closed text book instead of listening to my lesson?" Your professor questioned, breaking you out of your thoughts. Shit, how had you gotten so immersed in your little daydream that you had forgotten you were in class? You could feel the sympathetic stares of your peers burning into you as Crane loomed over you, a gleam of mischievous satisfaction in his blue eyes. You didn't respond.
"Stay after class," He said plainly, heading back to the front of the room. He'd still ask you to stay back regardless of how things went, the little show he had made out of you was his way of toying with you in just the way he liked. It was more of a tease at this point, you weren't scared, not of him. Still, you shrunk back into your seat in faux embarrassment to entertain him.
"To those who were paying attention, unlike a certain someone," he paused, gaze drifting over to you as he quickly took in the sight of what you were wearing.
While it was nothing out of the ordinary for you, you did choose to wear a skirt today, a favorite of his to see on you. How easy would it be for him to pull it up, bunching the fabric over your hips so be could get acess to what he was really after? He also took note of your gloss-covered lips, mind drifting onto how great they'd look wrapped around his cock or wide open as you moaned for him. He shifted, moving to be further behind his desk as he felt his pants tighten. He would wreck you after everyone was gone.
"You have a test on the topic of agoraphobia this upcoming Monday; today is Friday, which means you have the weekend to review the notes, which I hope you've been taking, for your own sake." He continued. "You're all free to go, except who I've already asked to stay." He really wouldn't stop rubbing that in, would he? Maybe he was trying to rile you up to make your usual "meeting" more exciting today.
As your classmates rose, you stayed seated, putting your stuff into your bag as you did. It was all routine, except for the man who had approached you before making his way out. He stood over you with a friendly smile, one that you had to admit made him look handsome. He didn't look too different from Dr. Crane in terms of basic features; dark hair and cornflower blue eyes. He was your type on the level of looks.
"Hey, I'm Ryan," He introduced himself, friendly smile remaining on his face. "I heard that you're pretty good in this class, making straight A's. I was wondering if you could help me study this weekend if you're free? Maybe we could grab a cup of coffee, too?" You looked over to where Dr. Crane was standing, the man in question observing your interaction from his desk, making it subtle by acting like he was sorting through papers.
You and your professor weren't exclusive, and if he had others lined up and waiting for him, then you could, too; it'd only be fair. Your classmate wanted to study and get coffee? He'd get what he wanted and more. "Sure! I'm free tommorrow at twelve if that works out for you," You finally replied, smiling up at Ryan. You had just met the guy and he was already doing something that Crane never did: asking you out on a date.
Ryan grinned, grabbing a notebook out of his bag and ripping out a piece of paper, writing his number on it before handing it to you. "I'll see you then!" He exclaimed happily before waving goodbye and leaving. After he had left, you stood up, pulling your bag over your shoulder before you made your way to where Jonathan was at the front of the lecture hall. He did ask you to stay after class.
"Throw it away," Crane stated plainly, moving the small, paper-filled trashcan that was under his desk to be in front of you. You looked down, not realizing you still had the slip of paper with Ryan's number on it in your hand.
"Do you even know what it is?" You retorted, shoving the paper into your bag.
"He gave you his number. You don't need the number of someone you turned down," He responded, moving the trashcan even closer to you. "Throw it away." He repeated.
"Except I didn't turn him down." You replied, watching his brows furrow in a mix of confusion, and then annoyance once your words sunk in. "We're not exclusive, you and I, are we?" Part of you hoped he'd prove you wrong, telling you that he was yours and you were his, while another part of you wanted to tell him 'fuck you" to his face. How many simultaneously lucky and unlucky women did he have waiting for him? Many, you were sure of it.
"I'm sure you have someone else in another one of your classes that you can spend your evening with, Dr. Crane." You smiled, trying to ignore the growing pain in your heart. "If you can have others, then it's only fair that I can as well."
"What makes you think that I have others?" He inquired, looking up at you with curious, blue eyes. "Do you think I'm the type of man to give out straight A's in my class in exchange for a fling or two? I don't even up your grades, darling." He chuckled lightly.
You rolled your eyes. He had to be lying to you... right? Were you really the only one and he just didn't see you as more than someone to have sex with? You didn't know what idea hurt you more, but the end result was the same: you meant little to him, and your body was all he wanted.
"I'll see you on Monday, professor." You mumbled out, feeling defeated. You already knew why he had asked you to stay after class, but the thought of him touching you while he wanted nothing more than just sex sickened you. What did you expect? That's all things had ever been. You shouldn't have caught feelings.
He watched you leave, letting out a long sigh once you were gone. You had always been a pain in his ass, but not one he'd ever get rid of.
Saturday at Twelve left just as quickly as it had come, and before you knew it, not only had you had your date, but you were also back in your Psychology class on Monday, a test on agoraphobia in front of you. Being nearly sixty questions long, it was intimidating to look at, even more so when the majority of questions were statistic-based. You were far from worried, however, having studied the topic extensively over the past few weeks.
Any confidence you had left you once you received your score later that same class period. You had failed by a large margin, the bright red ink in the corner shamefully exclaiming '34%' seeming to mock you as you stared back at it. You had yet to fail any assignment in your Psychology course, let alone one on such a common fear as agoraphobia. Your professor did this on purpose.
"Yes? Can I help you?" Crane asked, not bothering to look up as he shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk. You placed your failed test in front of the man, an angry frown on your face as you did so.
"Did you intentionally fail me because I went out on a date this weekend, you prick?!" He finally glanced up at you, his neutral expression not faltering a bit despite your obvious discontent. Then, he stood up, making his way over to his office door in the corner of the room.
"Come on, let's take this to my office so you can shout at me without embarrassing yourself as easily." The condescension in his voice only served to upset you further, much to his sadistic delight. You were the first one inside, Jonathan making sure to lock the door behind you. Before you could even open up your mouth to yell at him once more, he spoke.
"Did it feel good?" He asked nonchalantly, catching you off guard.
"What? What are you—"
"Did it feel good when he fucked you?" He finished, watching calmly as your eyes widened in shock. "You have a hickey on your neck under all that makeup you used to try and hide it. You've done the same to the ones I've given you in the past. It's just barely noticeable."
He stepped forward, closing in on you like a hungry animal would their prey, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Did it feel good? Did he manage to fuck you better than I ever could?" His arm wrapped around you, a hand placing itself on the small of your back as he leaned into you. "Or did he leave you wanting more? Did you go home and grab that vibrator of yours, just wishing it was me that had been the one with you while you were forced to make yourself cum, because he couldn't?"
He moved, lifting you up so he could sit you on the desk. Of course, like always, it was cleared off ahead of time in anticipation of your visit.
"Maybe I need to show you who you belong to, hmm?" His hands moved down under your skirt, one resting on your inner thigh while the other gave an experimental touch to your clothed sex. You were already wet, your arousal felt through the thin cotton of your panties. "Soaking already, my dear? He must've left you worse off than I imagined." Jonathan purred.
"H-He barely touched me," You stuttered out, feeling Crane tug your underwear to the side, his deft fingers finding your clit. "All we did was make out." You let out a soft moan as he began slowly rubbing at the sensitive bud.
"I don't believe you." His hands left you, beginning to undo his belt. The prominent tent in his black slacks let you know just what was in store for you; he was starving for you. "Not when you admitted you let him touch what's mine." He continued, motioning for you to take your soaked panties off.
"What's yours?" You breathed out, slipping off the clothing in question, letting it fall to the ground below.
"You need to know who you belong to." He stated, pulling his cock out; hard and leaking pre-cum at the tip. Your pussy grew even wetter at the sight. You spread your legs on instinct as he came in closer, putting himself in between them, a hand resting on your hip while the other lined himself up with your eager cunt, the head of his cock teasing your entrance.
"Who do you belong to?" He asked staring into your eyes with his half-lidded, sultry ones swimming with lust and need. "Answer me correctly and I'll be nice and give you what you want."
"You. I belong to you. Dr. Jonathan Cra— oh, fuck!" You gasped out, feeling him thrust into you without warning. He set a quick, almost animalistic pace, wasting no time; not when he needed you so much. Every drag of his thick cock inside of your desperate cunt sent pleasure coursing through you.
"I bet he didn't fuck you as good as this," he groaned, a tight grip on your hips as he slammed into you, the lewd sounds of your shared pleasure filling the small space of his office. It had only been a few days since he had last fucked you, but with the way you were already trembling beneath him it felt like it had been months.
"You're the best I've —Oh!— ever had!" You managed to get out between your moans. It was true, too. Out of every man you'd ever been with, no man had made you feel as good as Jonathan did. "Harder– baby, please!" You begged, gripping the edge of the desk like your life depended on it.
"Look at you, begging like a slut," He growled, pounding into you even harder. "That's okay, darling. You're my little slut. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin." He let out a loud groan as your pussy clamped down on him at the sound of his words. "Oh? Does that turn you on? The thought of me ruining you? Trust me, you're not going to want a single person other than me after I'm done with you, darling." You pulled him down, dragging him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Your tongue moved against his, just like you were made for each other.
"I love you," you whimpered out, feeling him nip at your neck. "Please— I want to be all yours. Only yours." You pleaded, your mind too clouded with the intense pleasure rocking through your body to fully process the potential impact of what you had just confessed.
"You already are." He responded, hips snapping against yours as he lost his rhythm. "I love you, too. I don't care what trouble I'll get into for what we've done. I don't care if I lose my job, as long as you're with me at the end of it all."
That sent you over the edge, along with the tip of his cock grazing your sweet spot. You came around him, your orgasm crashing over you as your legs shook with the force of it all. He spilled into you not long after, thick, warm cum shooting deep inside you and leaking out to drip down your thighs as he let out a long, loud groan of ecstasy.
You slumped back against the desk, feeling the cold wood against your warm, hot skin. Jonathan buried his head into the crook of your neck, pressing soft, chaste kisses to it as you both came down from your orgasmic highs. You stayed like that for a long moment until both of you calmed down, a blissful exhaustion filling you.
"There's a new restaurant that opened up in the town center," he smiled, caressing your cheek. "I hear it has some of the best Chicken Alfredo the city has to offer. Good wine, too."
You chuckled tiredly, not catching on to his offer. "You fucked me silly just so you could tell me about some Italian place?"
"I'm sure it's a better first date than whatever that guy got you," He said, letting out a chuckle of his own. "I'm free later tonight if that's not too short notice."
Your eyes shot open as the realization set in. "Wait— You're asking me out? What if someone from the University sees us, Jonathan? You could get—" He cut you off with a short, sweet kiss.
"Arkham always needs new doctors, darling. There's never a shortage of the need for psychiatrists. I'm tired of grading papers, anyway." He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. "You heard what I said earlier, didn't you? I love you. You belong to me."
You had finally learned who you belonged to, and you couldn't have been happier.
#💫mimicwrites💫#smut#fem reader#fem!reader#mdni#nolanverse jonathan crane#scarecrow batman#cillian murphy scarecrow#jonathan crane#jonathan crane x reader#jonathan crane x you#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian x fem!reader#cillian x reader#cillian murphy smut#jonathan crane x reader smut#jonathan crane smut#the scarecrow#scarecrow x reader#dc scarecrow#dc#cillian fic#cillian murphy x fem!reader#jonathan crane x fem!reader#x fem!reader#x female reader#x reader smut#divider by cafekitsune
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Tell Me The Truth
•• Jonathan Crane x Reader ••
Story note: Thiopental is the proper name for what’s more commonly known as “truth serum.” It works by slowing the brain’s higher levels of functioning, making coming up with lies or fabricating complicated stories difficult for a person.
***!!!Warning: Mature sexual content, mentions/use of needles, blood, drug administration/drug influence, reader vulnerability/loss of some defenses and control, 18+ readers only, minors DNI!!!***
…………………………………………………………………………….
“Y/N! Wait up!”
Looking over her shoulder, Y/N saw one of the lab technicians, Terry, jogging towards her down the wide hallway. He was coming from the lab office where they’d just been talking, and as he approached and got closer, Y/N smiled, and when he stopped in front of her, she raised her eyebrows.
“Is there something we forgot to review?” she asked him, still smiling.
“No,” he shook his head, catching his breath after the jog through the wing of the building, “but you forgot this,” he said, lifting his hand and revealing her access key card he held between his fingers. “You left it on the counter in the lab.”
Her eyebrows raising again in surprise, Y/N reached out to take the key card from him.
“Oh, gosh! Thanks so much! I’m gonna need that later.”
“You mean tomorrow,” he suggested in correction. “You’ll need it tomorrow.”
“No,” Y/N replied with a shake of her head. “I mean tonight. I’ve still got some work to do after I drop these documents off in Dr. Crane's office. I need to sort through the results of the latest trial he conducted for that proposed new version of Thiopental, and then I have to go back to the lab and begin dosing out the vials of it for the next trial.”
“How many trials is he going to do?” Terry asked.
“Just these two,” Y/N replied. “The first was to track the physical effects and duration of those effects, as well as efficacy. This next trial is to assess the intensity of effect and the average recovery time. We’re hoping this version of the drug won’t leave patients feeling as spacey and out of it for as long as the original version typically does.”
“I see,” Terry replied with a nod of his head. “Who else do you have working on this with you?”
Y/N shook her head.
“No one; just me,” she then replied.
“Geez, Crane really likes to work you, doesn’t he?” Terry responded.
“It’s not like that,” Y/N said. “He allows plenty of other people to be involved in running the trials and collecting the data. It’s just that when it comes to interpreting the data and getting everything organized for the trials, he wants me to do it.”
“He keeps you on a pretty short leash,” Terry countered.
“No,” Y/N said again. “He’s giving me the opportunity I need, which is to gain firsthand experience and knowledge. This is exactly the kind of stuff I need to be involved in as I work towards my PhD. It’s what’s entailed in being a research assistant.”
“I don’t see him making anyone else work after 5:00 p.m. on a consistent basis,” Terry said then. “But you’re always here late.”
“He doesn’t make me; I do it on my own accord.” Y/N replied.
“Why?” Terry asked with a skeptical raise of his brow. “It’s not like he’s a joy to work with. It surely can’t be his personality that keeps you hanging around. The guy couldn’t be less inviting or more clinical. Has he ever even thanked you or acknowledged what you do?”
“Terry,” Y/N said, admonishing him for criticizing Dr. Crane. “He’s a brilliant doctor and an ingenious pharmaceutical developer. It’s only natural for him to be very clinically focused. But, truly, he’s not as cold as you make him sound. He’s just...focused.”
“You know, your face always flushes whenever you talk about him,” Terry said teasingly with a smirk as he looked at Y/N. “In your eyes, he can do no wrong. Does your defense of him have anything to do with the fact that you so obviously have a crush on him?”
Blushing even deeper than she apparently already was, Y/N’s jaw slightly dropped in surprise.
“I do NOT!” she insisted, hugging the files she was holding to her chest.
“Please, Y/N, it’s all too obvious. We all work in pretty close quarters in that lab; it’s hard to miss the way you look at him whenever he’s in there with us. And if that’s so obvious in the lab, I can only imagine how much more you fawn over him when it’s just the two of you in his office.”
“I do NOT fawn!” Y/N denied again. “I’m his assistant. I’m supposed to pay close attention to him and help him in any way that I can.”
Of course, though, Terry was right. Y/N’s loyalty to Dr. Crane and his work was genuine, but it was one hundred percent correct that she had a hopeless crush on the doctor as well. He was incomprehensibly smart, dedicated to his work, and constantly developing something new in the field – he was so accomplished. He was also insanely handsome and sexy (although he seemed to be unaware of that fact), and although he displayed a quite cold, clinical demeanor ninety-eight percent of the time, there were glimpses of affection that he’d shown Y/N here and there over the last year, and it was enough to get her imagination running for all sorts of different scenarios. How many times had she imagined those lips of his on hers? His hands gripping her waist while she was bent over the lab counter?
Admittedly, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, there was something else about him that spoke to her as well. He had a kind of...intimidating way about him that made her feel things. Almost like a slight hint of menacing or danger that made her both nervous and excited when around him. It was like he was balancing between remaining composed and becoming something a bit darker...equally as ready to either praise her or punish her, depending on whether or not she pleased him. And she always tried very hard to please him.
“You’re like his little pet, you know?” Terry continued then. “He snaps his fingers, and you—”
“Mr. Hall!” a very familiar voice suddenly called out from down the way, cutting into their conversation, and both Y/N and Terry turned to see Dr. Crane standing several yards away, briefcase in hand as he looked at Terry.
“You’re supposed to be in the lab right now, are you not?” he spoke again, his voice still raised slightly for them both to hear. “I don’t believe we’re paying you to ignore your responsibilities and distract my staff, so kindly say your goodbyes to Miss Y/L/N and get back to work.”
Turning back to face Terry, Y/N gave him a look that was a cross between apologetic and sympathetic.
“Don’t worry; I’ll tell him you were just bringing me my key card,” she whispered to him.
“Won’t matter,” Terry replied with slight resentment, briefly eyeing Crane again over Y/N’s shoulder. “But maybe if you slip in a good word for me when the two of you are making out later, that might change his mind.”
“Shh! Don’t say things like that! Someone could hear you!” Y/N said in a somewhat panicked voice. “If a rumor starts going around that he and I—”
“Miss Y/L/N!” It was now Y/N’s turn to be called on by the doctor, but when she turned her head again and looked at him, he said nothing further, just gave her an expectant look and remained firmly where he stood.
“I gotta go; thanks for bringing me my card,” she whispered again as she quickly turned back to Terry for the last time. Then she grabbed the key card from his still outstretched hand and closed her fingers around it, turning around once more and briskly walking towards Dr. Crane with her files still clutched to her chest with her other arm. Crane continued to hold her gaze as she approached him, and as she reached him, instead of staying where he was, he began to walk again, Y/N following alongside him with still hurried steps as she spoke.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Crane, that was my fault, not Terry’s,” she said as they made their way down the hallway. “I left my key card in the lab, and he was bringing it to me, that’s all.”
“And it took you ten minutes to take a card out of his hand?” Jonathan replied, still keeping his eyes forward. “We have a schedule to keep, Miss Y/L/N.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Swallowing somewhat nervously, Y/N glanced sideways at him. He seemed even more no-nonsense than he usually did, and while she had just defended him to Terry, Jonathan’s aura was admittedly chilly today – she could feel it coming from him, and it was beyond just being clinical. He almost seemed mad that she’d been talking to Terry. But then again, he was never what one would call “warm”, except for the very rare occasions when he’d show Y/N the slightest bit of fondness. Something she’d never seen him reveal to anyone else.
As they continued through the building and made their way to Crane’s office, they discussed some details of the latest trial for the Thiopental, Y/N thumbing through several papers while speaking. As she spoke, Jonathan was only half listening, more so occupied with the anger and jealousy he’d felt upon seeing Y/N with Hall. And even though he knew that Y/N had no interest in the man, that didn’t stop the green monster from peeping its ugly head out. Even the doctor most trained in the reasoning behind mental and emotional responses still couldn’t stop himself from getting jealous, and the fact that he knew Y/N had a loyal devotion to him didn’t make it any less anger-inducing when he saw the way Hall had looked at her. The rat had been trying to pick her up for months, and he just wouldn’t take the hint. Well, it was finally time to hammer home to both Y/N and Hall exactly who she belonged to.
Jonathan was fully aware of the secret interest Y/N had in him. He’d picked up on it almost immediately upon her employment with him. While she was very good at keeping it to herself and maintaining a professional front, Jonathan was an expert at assessing, evaluating, and teasing apart every small mannerism, tone of voice, nervous habit, trail of thought, unspoken implication, and a million other things a person might display. And while she was very work-driven and dedicated, he had still caught every stolen glance, every flush of her cheeks, bite of her lips, and inviting bit of body language from her. She’d unknowingly, unintentionally given herself away months and months ago, and Jonathan hadn’t overlooked one tiny bit of it.
He hadn’t acted upon it, though, and he’d – for the most part – maintained an extremely stoic, clinical demeanor with her; the same he offered the rest of the staff. Only rarely did he allow himself to slip slightly and express a tiny bit of affection towards her.
No; he hadn’t acted upon it — yet. Because he’d decided long ago that when he did act upon it, it would be with the knowledge and the tools to make sure she wouldn’t be able to do anything other than give in to him. She’d be open, helpless, submissive, and melting underneath every touch he gave her. That was exactly how he wanted her. That was how he’d wanted her from the start.
Normally, Jonathan was unaffected by most women. Typically, to him, they were dim, whiny, annoying, faint-hearted things that were inconvenient but ultimately necessary. Most of the women he encountered simply made his life more difficult in some way, and weren’t worth wasting his precious time or intelligence on. Sure, he had needs like any man did, but those were commonly satisfied with minimal talk and a quick fuck with a random stranger he’d meet at some psychology seminar, or an audience member at one of his lectures. He could force the charm in order to have the itch scratched, and then go back to mostly ignoring them.
But Y/N was an exception — an incredibly beautiful, innocent, intelligent, and devoted exception who had taken Jonathan by rare surprise as the first woman he’d met whom he couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried. Beyond her beauty, it was her obvious, sweet innocence and warmth that was a stark contrast to his clinical, calculated life. And he couldn’t let her get too friendly with anyone else, because as soon as he’d acknowledged to himself the effect she had on him, he immediately decided she’d be his. She was pure, innocent perfection who was always dying to please him, and no way would he lose this rare gem of a woman to some pathetic, average moron. No; she’d be his, and his alone.
His to corrupt, control, and break apart. Never before had the desire and the urge to possess a woman been so strong as it was with Y/N, and he wanted her to fold for him the same way he got each and every one of his patients to fold. Except with Y/N, she’d break down and surrender not from the suppressed memories Jonathan would make her recollect or the trauma she’d work through, but from the way he’d adoringly groom her perfection and desire to please while also calling out each naughty desire and secret thought she assumed he was completely oblivious to, but was, in fact, all too well aware of.
And he knew that that right there was why he was so drawn to her. A gorgeous, innocent woman he could groom and corrupt, who would hang on his every word and be naughty only for him. In Y/N, Jonathan saw the alluring contrasts in her of being so pure, yet also having such lustful, sexual desires. She was sweet yet tempting. A good girl, but with the yearning to be corrupted. It all tapped into his own exact fantasies and desires.
Of course, none of this had ever been voiced by her, but Jonathan had spent the last year analyzing everything about her, and he just knew that Y/N had a yet-to-be-tapped sexuality. He knew she was no virgin, but she also clearly had never let all her inhibitions go. And who better to help her do that than him? And their latest trial project would only help along the way. After all, as brilliant as Jonathan’s methods were, he had no qualms about a little liquid assistance to get Y/N there faster.
As they entered Jonathan’s office, Y/N did as she always did and sat at the computer at his desk. When they were together, Jonathan rarely sat there, instead having Y/N enter information and type up notes of whatever he would dictate to her while he sat in one of the chairs opposite his desk instead. Then she’d leave to hurry off to the lab to complete whatever work he’d assigned for her there, where he’d then check on her progress later on.
“Pull up the results of the latest trial for the Thiopental,” Jonathan told Y/N after she’d situated herself in his desk chair. “I want to compare the males’ reactions versus the females’.”
Obediently, Y/N clicked through a few screens before pulling up the records Crane was asking for. But upon opening the file, Y/N noticed that the total number of participants had been lessened by one. Rather than results from one hundred individuals – fifty males and fifty females – the final line in the female column had been deleted.
“Ummm, Dr. Crane, did the results get edited recently?”
Turning from across the room, Jonathan looked at Y/N as he replied.
“Why do you ask?” he said.
“Well, there are no longer fifty female entries like there were when we first received this data,” Y/N answered him. “There are now only forty-nine.”
Walking over to where Y/N sat, Jonathan stopped beside her and leaned over the desk. Of course, he knew exactly what was going on — he’d deleted the last female entry — but he hovered over Y/N and gently but firmly laid his hand on top of hers as he gripped it and moved the computer mouse with her.
“Let’s have a look,” he said softly beside her.
Y/N’s heart was pounding and her hand was warm beneath his. With him standing this close, she could smell his cologne and feel the heat from his body. It was both unnerving and inviting, and she dared not move as he remained close, although it was taking all her strength not to turn her head into his chest.
Jonathan could sense every nerve in Y/N’s body pulsing. It was the exact reaction he expected from her, and it was clear she was both nervous and aroused. As his eyes darted to her, he could nearly feel the softness of her hair in his fingers as he’d sweep it behind her shoulder and expose her neck. That porcelain skin of hers would have a trail of goosebumps wherever he’d touch her.
After briefly scrolling through the file with her and acting somewhat surprised, Jonathan stood up and pulled back, and then Y/N finally moved again, looking at him questioningly.
“Open my emails; perhaps there’s an explanation from someone in there,” he said to her.
Doing as he said, Y/N opened his emails and quickly found one with the subject line: “Thiopental Participant Withdrawn.” Upon reading it aloud to Crane, Y/N learned that one of the female participant’s results had been discarded due to the discovery that she had consumed alcohol within an hour of her participation. That wasn’t allowed, as they wanted results from people who had no other influencers in their systems at the time of the trial.
“Does this mean the entire study will have to be discarded?” Y/N asked Jonathan after she’d finished reading the email. Little did she know that he’d composed and sent the email to himself.
“No,” Jonathan replied as he looked at her, her beautiful face looking crestfallen. “We’ll just have to collect results from a new female participant within the same parameters of all the others: non-pregnant, non-smoking, without any heart defects or complications, and a system free of any other influencers, approved by their primary physician and conducted in a controlled environment.”
Nodding, Y/N looked down at her watch, noticing that it was already nearly the time most people went home for the day.
“I can ask around the lab tomorrow if any of the female staff would be willing to do it,” she said to him. “I’m sure I can find someone.”
“I’m sure you can,” Jonathan replied then, looking at her with that rare smile that left Y/N feeling both excited and nervous. “You never let me down, Y/N.”
Blushing fiercely with a shy little smile, Y/N could only hold his eyes for a moment before she had to look down. Only on the rarest occasions would he call her “Y/N” instead of “Miss Y/L/N”, and it always had the same effect on her.
“Well, I should get to the lab then and start preparing the vials for the next trial,” she said as she pushed his chair out from the desk and stood up, her face still flushed as she closed his laptop.
“Don’t forget your key card this time,” he said to her with another rare moment of affectionate teasing.
Lifting her eyes to look at him, Y/N once again gave him that shy little smile.
“I won’t.”
•.•.•.•.•
Despite the trial only requiring one hundred vials of the Thiopental, dosing them out was time consuming work. Not only did Y/N need to transfer milliliter after milliliter of the clear liquid into one hundred empty vials with a dropper, but they each then needed to be capped, sealed, labeled and packaged with an accompanying syringe needle.
After three hours of work, she’d finally made it to the last tray of empty vials, and she sat up straighter in her stool to momentarily stretch her back and rotate her neck. She shivered beneath her lab coat, the chilly air of the sterile, empty lab offering little warmth. She was just about to resume her work when she heard the door to the lab open behind her. Turning to look over her shoulder, she saw Dr. Crane walk in, allowing the door to close behind him before he headed her way. What she didn’t realize is that he also ensured it was locked. Despite the fact that it was past 8:00 p.m. at this point, he wanted the guarantee of absolutely no interruptions.
“How’s it coming?” Jonathan asked her as he approached and then came to a stop beside her.
“Nearly finished,” Y/N replied, glancing back down to the vials before looking at Crane again.
“Well, perhaps it’s time for a little break,” he said as their eyes met once more. “I think I’ve come to a solution for our issue with the previous trial that will keep you from having to find a new participant.”
“Oh?” Y/N asked with interest, sitting up straighter in her stool. “How so?”
Looking at her intently, Jonathan spoke again.
“You can do it,” he said.
Furrowing her brow, Y/N shook her head in confusion.
“I can do what? You mean...me be the participant?” she asked in surprise.
“Yes,” Jonathan replied firmly, stepping slightly closer to her.
“But I...” Y/N began. She would never have expected Dr. Crane to suggest her being involved in this way. Wasn’t it some kind of foul for the individuals running the trial to be involved?
“But I’m involved in the study,” she continued then. “I can’t be a participant.”
“This is a study that’s simply tracking effect and reactions,” Jonathan replied, keeping his tone matter-of-fact. “There’s no issue of conflict or biases. We’re simply seeing how your body responds.”
Suddenly, Y/N’s heart began pounding. He was speaking as if he’d already decided she was going to do this, and it had her feeling nervous for some reason. Not unsafe, but just…
“I...I don’t think I should,” Y/N replied. “I mean, when would we even do this?”
“Right now,” Jonathan answered with certainty.
“Right now? But…but who’ll track the results? We have no one else here to record anything.”
Jonathan gave her an amused smile.
“I think I’m more than capable of keeping track of one woman’s responses to a single, one-time use drug, Y/N,” he said to her. “We don’t need anyone else.”
Her heart was still pounding, and she didn’t miss the fact that he used her first name again.
“I don’t have an approval from my primary physician — we have to provide that for them to consider the results valid and prove that it was done safely.”
Jonathan gave her another look.
“I’m a doctor, Y/N. I can properly administer a shot, and I can attest here and now that you’re in a safe environment and are a valid participant. That is, unless you’ve suddenly become pregnant, had a pacemaker implanted, or begun smoking since you were last in my office.”
Despite her nerves, Y/N couldn’t help but release a short laugh at Jonathan’s little joke as she looked down at her lap. It was odd to see him suddenly so...casual, but it was also very appealing. Her cheeks rosy, she looked up at him through her lashes.
“No, none of those things,” she said with a shy little smile.
“Then there’s no issue. I’ll administer it to you, observe the effects, and we’ll add the results to the trial. This way, we won’t waste time finding someone else and waiting for their physician’s note.”
“I…” Y/N didn’t know how to respond. She badly wanted to appease Jonathan, but she was also nervous. The idea of being so vulnerable in front of him was nerve-wracking. Granted, he would only be keeping track of things like her pulse, blood pressure, and reflexes, but what if she accidentally said or did something embarrassing?
“You’re perfectly safe with me, Y/N,” Jonathan assured her, his tone soft. He looked in her eyes and he could see the slight uncertainty, but more so the desire to please him. Just like always.
To Y/N’s surprise, Jonathan reached out then and gently laid a hand over hers.
“You know you can trust me, don’t you?”
Looking down at his hand on hers, Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. The mood in the room had changed entirely, and she wasn’t quite sure what was happening. But she knew she could never say no to him.
“Do you trust me?” Jonathan asked as she looked back up at him.
Taking in a deep breath, Y/N pulled herself out of falling into those eyes of his and quietly answered him, her hand still beneath his.
“Yes,” she said.
Slowly smiling, Jonathan squeezed her hand.
“Good girl,” he said.
Y/N blushed fiercely at his words, feeling incredibly nervous but also giddy and pleased at his praise. Again, this was a side of him that had only ever appeared in her private fantasies, and the fact that he was suddenly looking at her the way he was felt almost surreal.
Reaching up behind her on the shelf where the leftover vials of the Thiopental from the first trial sat, Jonathan pulled one down and set it on the lab counter. He then opened the container of supplies kept beneath the shelf and retrieved an alcohol swab and some rubber gloves. Still sitting in her stool, Y/N watched his every move.
Jonathan had her right where he wanted her, and he was even more in tune than usual with every silent signal Y/N was giving off. As he placed the supplies on the counter, he looked at her again.
“Sit up on the counter,” he softly ordered her. “Then your arms will be level with mine.”
Self-consciously, Y/N shifted, trying to be as graceful as possible in the skirt she was wearing. Bracing her palms behind herself on the ledge, she then hoisted herself up from the stool onto the countertop, scooting back slightly as her legs dangled over the edge. She was now at the same level as Jonathan, and she awkwardly cleared her throat as their eyes met again.
“Let’s lift this up, shall we?” Jonathan then said to her as he reached forward for the sleeve of her lab coat and pushed it up to reveal her forearm, folding it behind the bend of her elbow.
Goosebumps immediately appeared where Jonathan’s fingers brushed her skin as he adjusted her sleeve, and Y/N blushed, not looking at him but knowing there was no way he didn’t notice her reaction.
“Will you…I mean…we’re just tracking things like my vitals, right? That’s it?” Y/N asked him quietly as she watched Jonathan put the gloves on.
“Why?” he teased her then as their eyes met again. “Keeping some secrets, are we?”
Blushing again, Y/N couldn’t speak, instead only pursing her lips as she shook her head.
“Don’t worry,” Jonathan said then, “something tells me we’ll get the answers we’re looking for.”
Y/N’s heart pounded again at his words, not even knowing how to respond. She felt the way she always felt around him, both nervous and protected, but it was magnified by about a hundred, and although his words and actions were soft, Y/N still picked up on that hint of intimidation and danger he brought her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she acknowledged the fact that she was squeezing her thighs together beneath her skirt.
He could see her pulse point at her neck jumping, and he spotted the tightening of her muscles as she squeezed her thighs together atop the counter. As he reached over her once more to grab a syringe and needle, he intentionally lingered, and he heard her inhale near his neck as he did, smiling to himself at her response to him.
Donning the rubber gloves, Jonathan then assembled the needle and syringe, then loaded it from the vial, Y/N's eyes on his every move. Setting the prepared syringe down momentarily, he then opened the packet containing the alcohol swab and then removed it, swiftly swiping it across Y/N's skin as she looked down at her arm. Goosebumps appeared again as she felt the cold piece of gauze on her skin.
Quickly disposing of the swab, Jonathan then retrieved the syringe once more, and just before bringing the needle to her skin, he gently grasped Y/N's arm with his free hand and looked at her.
"Ready?" he said, although it wasn't really a question.
Meeting his eyes, Y/N nervously bit her lip, but as she felt Jonathan gently squeeze her arm, she found herself nodding her permission.
Wincing at the sudden sting from the prick of the needle, Y/N briefly squeezed her eyes closed, but forced herself to inhale steadily as she felt the liquid enter her vein. Jonathan lifted his eyes from her arm to her face as he finished pushing the last of the dose through the syringe, and he smiled to himself once more as he knew it was now only a matter of minutes before he'd get everything out of her.
Gently retracting the needle from her arm, Jonathan placed a clean square of gauze over the site on her skin to catch any small bit of blood that may have followed, and Y/N automatically lifted her other hand to hold it there as Jonathan disposed of the syringe.
"Don't be nervous, sweetheart," Jonathan said as he saw Y/N watching him again, her face slightly pale and her nerves clearly affecting her. "You know exactly how all of this works."
Completely taken aback by the unexpected term of endearment, Y/N's heart raced again, and she felt both giddy and hazy. While it was supposed to take several minutes for the drug to reach full effect, she'd had no idea how quickly it would begin taking over her system. She already felt somewhat like she was functioning in slow motion, but with Jonathan's unexpected affection, her heart was still pounding like crazy.
"We'll just give that a minute to take full effect," he said then, very nonchalantly.
Still speechless, Y/N watched as he opened a cabinet off to the side and pulled out a pulse oximeter and electronic blood pressure cuff. Preparing to use each of them, Jonathan then shifted again and stood directly in front of her, and Y/N lifted her head to meet his eyes.
"How do you feel?" he asked her, the clinical tone back in his voice.
It took her a moment before she could respond, the words taking their time to travel from her brain to her lips.
"Slow," she said simply as she looked back at him. "Everything feels slow."
Nodding, Jonathan picked up the items he'd retrieved from the cabinet. He spoke as he placed the oximeter on her finger. Although he had no real intention of tracking any of this, he wanted to give her another minute to absorb everything. After the oximeter beeped with her numbers, he placed the blood pressure cuff on her wrist.
"How about now?" Jonathan lifted his eyes from the display on the cuff to Y/N's gaze. "Your heart's racing. Not common, seeing as this typically causes the opposite effect on heart rate. What's got you so nervous, hmm?"
Y/N felt somewhat cloudy, still fully functional, but once again in almost a slow motion way, as if everything she thought and did took twice as long. After registering his question, she answered Jonathan with the first thing that came to her mind.
"You," she said simply.
Jonathan smiled, giving her a look that only intensified her pulse, and he then reached up and removed his glasses, placing them in the breast pocket of his blazer.
"Me?" he questioned her teasingly. "Do I make you nervous, Y/N?"
"Yes," she answered after a beat, still looking at him. She found that if she tried to turn her head too fast, it made her feel woozy.
"Hmm," said Jonathan, and then he reached down and slowly unstrapped the cuff from her wrist.
Thoughtlessly lowering her arm, Y/N took another deep breath, feeling her pulse in her veins.
"Let's just start with the typical questions," Jonathan said then, and although he'd told her they'd only be monitoring her vitals and outward reactions, Y/N had no ability or desire to stop him from asking her anything.
"Tell me your full name and date of birth," Crane said as he looked at her. After a moment's beat, Y/N responded with the (obviously) correct answers.
"And what's your home address?"
Again, she rattled off the information after a second's pause.
"Now tell me, how long have you worked for me?" Jonathan said then, his tone changing slightly.
"Just over a year," Y/N replied, and then she noticed somewhere in the back of her mind that she was beginning to feel very hot.
"Right. And for how long of that year have you had sexual thoughts about me, Y/N?"
Despite her body heat, Y/N could feel her face suddenly blanching, but as she processed his question, there was only one possible outcome: the truth.
"The entire time," she said, and she felt the blush creep back over her skin as the words left her mouth.
"Are you surprised that I just asked you that question?" Jonathan asked then, that smile of certainty taking over his face again.
"Yes," Y/N answered, her heart skipping a beat as she saw him smile. She was now fully aware that she was powerless to say anything but the truth.
Reaching out to her then, Jonathan gently laid a palm on Y/N's thigh and slowly slid it up her leg, over the fabric of her skirt. Then their eyes met again.
"You thought I didn't know, didn't you?" he affectionately teased her, his voice soft and his gaze intense as he looked at her. Somehow, his entire aura was contradictorily both soothing and intimidating, and Y/N's breath hitched in her throat as he stepped even closer.
Automatically, and feeling somewhat hazy, she spread her legs to allow Jonathan to stand between them, and as he did, he reached up and gently grasped her chin, stroking it with his thumb as he looked down at her. Nervously, Y/N's eyes kept darting between his eyes and his lips, her heart pounding and her body flushed as he spoke again.
"Trust me, sweetheart, I knew. I've known all along."
His affectionate words and his touch once again caused Y/N's heart to race, and she felt both embarrassed and helpless, but also immediately aroused.
"I'm sorry," she heard herself say suddenly, and Jonathan, still grasping her chin, looked at her with that unnerving affection.
"Sorry for what?"
"For thinking about you like that," she said. "I tried not to."
Chuckling, Jonathan released her chin, instead planting each of his palms on top of her thighs.
"You don't have to apologize," he spoke soothingly, giving a small shake of his head. "After all, why apologize for something we both want?"
"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, and she felt a dampness forming in her panties as Jonathan squeezed her thighs.
"You're quite the little eye-catcher yourself, Y/N," he responded. "I've spent the last year watching every move you make, every look and unspoken hint. And never before has anyone caught my attention quite like you."
Floored at this admission, Y/N could only say one thing.
"Really?"
Chuckling again, Jonathan leaned in closer to her.
"Isn't that what you were always hoping to hear?" he asked her.
Her eyes quickly darting to his lips, Y/N then responded.
"Yes," she answered him. "I wanted to be perfect for you. I wanted you to want me."
Immediately, Jonathan's cock twitched in his pants at her admission. Despite knowing this information already, nothing beat hearing it come straight from her lips.
"And is that still what you want now?" he pushed her.
She nodded her head.
"Yes."
Smiling again, Jonathan pulled back from her slightly, noting the heat radiating from her body.
"You're burning up," he said as his eyes dropped to the buttons on her lab coat.
"I'm hot," she confirmed mindlessly.
"I can see that," Jonathan replied.
"Is that bad?" she asked, concern momentarily replacing the desirous look on her face.
"It's expected," Jonathan dismissed with a shake of his head. "Your body's trying to compensate for the delayed response signals by sending blood through your system more quickly."
"I'm hot," she repeated dumbly, unable to comprehend enough of what Jonathan had said, as her brain was processing everything slower.
"We can take care of that," Jonathan replied, and he reached up and began undoing the buttons on her lab coat. He intentionally went slowly, savoring the moment of finally undressing her as he'd imagined a million times.
After her coat was open, Jonathan reached up again and slipped his hands underneath the shoulders, slowly pushing it off her and down her arms. Silently, Y/N turned her head and watched as his hands pushed the coat off her body. But instead of stopping there, Jonathan then lifted his hands once more and hovered them over the buttons of her blouse.
"Should we take this off, too?" he asked her — again, less so for permission and more so just to hear her response.
"Yes," she replied, and nodded her head.
As Jonathan worked at the new set of buttons, the porcelain skin of Y/N's chest and the lace of her black bra was gradually revealed, causing Jonathan's cock to stiffen further.
“Have you thought about me undressing you before, Y/N?”
She could feel his cool fingertips grazing her skin as he worked down her chest.
“Yes,” she replied. Her heart was pounding and her nipples stiffening at his question.
“And when you think about that, how does it make you feel?”
Of course, there was still nothing she could do but tell the truth. As badly as her mind wanted to come up with an answer that wouldn't embarrass her, she couldn't form the fib; she could only voice facts.
"Excited," she replied, "but nervous, too. I like to think about it."
"What else do you like to think about?" Jonathan urged her as he undid the last button on her blouse. Y/N's face flushed again as she answered him.
"You kissing me and touching me. I think about having sex with you and what it would be like."
"And do you enjoy those thoughts?" Jonathan placed his palms back on her thighs, her blouse hanging open.
"Yes," she replied.
"Why?"
"Because I like you. You’re so smart and accomplished, and you’re intimidating, too, but I like that. And you’re so handsome and sexy. When I’m around you, you make me feel safe but also scared at the same time. I like that. I think about what you'll do to me."
"And what do you think I'll do to you? Tell me."
Again, Y/N was helpless to anything but the truth.
"You'll kiss me. Touch me everywhere. I think about your hands on my breasts. Or your lips on me. You'll put your fingers inside me, and then your cock. You'll pull my hair or spank me. You'll fuck me and make me come. Then you'll come inside me."
He could see the shock and embarrassment on Y/N’s face as she heard herself uncontrollably admit everything out loud, and after each mini declaration she made, Jonathan's cock stiffened further.
Lifting his hands to Y/N’s shoulders once more, he slipped them under her blouse and pushed it off her, fully revealing inch after inch of her flawless skin, enhanced by the contrast of her feminine, lacy black bra. Her breasts molded perfectly to the cups and he could see her hardened nipples through the material.
"And how about if I tell you to do something? Would you do it?" Jonathan prompted her.
"Yes," Y/N said.
"You want to please me, don't you, Y/N? Make me happy with you? Do anything I say?"
"Yes."
"You just want to be my good girl, don't you?"
"Yes," Y/N nodded at that, feeling her body flush again. "I want to be yours."
Lifting his hands to her face, Jonathan cradled Y/N's cheeks in his palms and looked in her eyes as he spoke.
"I want that, too," he said. "And we can make that happen. Would you like me to fuck you right now?"
Y/N nodded again, having a hard time believing this was actually happening. "Yes."
Lowering one hand from her face and moving the other lower, he grasped her chin again and held her eyes as he spoke.
"You're going to be a good girl for me, Y/N. You're going to let me do everything to you that I want. You're going to show me how much you enjoy it. You belong to me, do you understand that?"
"Yes," Y/N replied, her heart pounding at Jonathan's words. Unintentionally, she slightly arched her back, subtly pushing her chest out towards him.
Jonathan smiled again.
"So eager," he cooed. "You've been mine all along, haven't you?"
"Yes; always," Y/N said.
At that, Jonathan lifted his hands once more and reached behind her, making quick work of opening her bra clasp. As the garment loosened around her, he traced his fingers up her arms and hooked them under her straps, hesitating for a moment as he savored her reaction.
"Shall we take this off?" he teased her.
"Yes," she answered quickly, her voice sounding desperate. "Please!"
Jonathan shook his head with another smile.
"Always so well-mannered. My good girl."
Pulling the bra from her chest, Jonathan dropped it to the floor and his eyes were glued to her breasts. They were plump, pert perfection, her nipples hardened from equally both arousal and the chill of the cold, sterile laboratory.
"Do you want my hands on you, Y/N?" he asked her, his palms already only centimeters away from touching her.
"Yes," she nodded fervently.
Immediately, Jonathan cupped her breasts, squeezing her flesh as it filled his hands and stroking her eager nipples with his thumbs. With every swipe along her buds, Y/N released a tiny gasp, arching into his touch.
"You like that, don't you?" Jonathan asked her as he lifted his eyes to hers. He could feel his cock straining against his pants as he watched her arch into him again.
"Yes," she replied. "I don't want you to stop."
Jonathan shook his head.
"We're not stopping until I have you coming, sweetheart," he said to her soothingly. "That's what you want, isn't it? For me to make you come?"
"Yes," she replied, and she squeezed her thighs together again.
"Then let's make that happen."
His hands still on her breasts, Jonathan leaned forward and pressed his lips to Y/N's, her eyes fluttering closed as he came closer. As soon as his lips came in contact with hers, she released an audible sigh with a little whimper, and when Jonathan stroked her nipples again as their lips moved together, she leaned into him even more.
He started off gentle, but soon, Jonathan was kissing her with more aggression, the sounds of her desirous desperation and her needy reaction spurring him on. After a moment, he felt her squirming beneath him, and he pulled back to look at her.
"What is it?" he asked her.
"I..." Y/N blushed again. "I want to touch you."
Jonathan smiled.
"Then touch me," he said, then leaned in again and connected their lips once more.
Whimpering again, Y/N lifted hers arms to Jonathan's neck, wrapping them around his shoulders as she scooted closer to him. Her bare breasts rubbed against the scratchy fabric of his blazer, and as she leaned into him, Jonathan lowered his hands to her hips and pulled her to the edge of the counter. Her fingers hovering over the nape of his neck, she suddenly tangled them in his hair and tugged in surprise as she felt Jonathan squeeze her hips.
Pulling away from her once more, Jonathan grabbed the fabric of her skirt and slowly began pushing it up her thighs, watching her every reaction as he did so.
"Let's see just how excited you are," he said. He then pushed her skirt the final inches to bunch it up around her hips, revealing her smooth thighs and the black panties clothing her pretty little mound.
"Spread your legs for me, Y/N," Jonathan ordered her, and she obediently responded, parting her thighs fully to reveal herself. The subtle yet obvious patch where her arousal had temporarily stained the fabric of her panties darker immediately causing another smirk to cross Jonathan's face.
"So wet, aren't you?" he affectionately teased her. "So wet and so ready." He hovered his fingers over her. "Do you want my fingers?"
Her breath hitched slightly before she answered.
"Yes," she said in a breathy reply. "I want them inside me."
Slowly, Jonathan skimmed his fingertips over the fabric of her panties, eliciting a whimper and a thrust of her hips as Y/N felt him touch her. He then lifted his fingers to the hem of her panties and hooked them inside. Instinctively, Y/N briefly lifted herself off the counter to allow him to remove them, but then her mind was completely blank when she suddenly felt Jonathan's fingers delve inside her dripping folds.
"Ohhhhh," she moaned, and her hips thrusted again as Jonathan curled his fingers inside her, the lewd sounds of her wetness accenting the air as he began pumping his fingers in and out of her.
Her pussy was soft, pink perfection, and Jonathan curled his fingers again as she moaned over and over.
"You're not just wet; you're soaking," he said to her, his cock now rock hard as he watched his fingers moving in and out of her. Whining again, Y/N grasped the edge of the counter with her hands and slightly leaned back, pushing her lower half closer to Jonathan, seeking more of his touch.
"Such a needy girl," Jonathan said. "You want more, don't you?"
"Yes," she nodded, her face twisting in pleasure as Jonathan pumped his fingers faster. "More." She was panting now.
"Wait until my cock is inside you; you'll take it so well. You're going to let me fuck you, aren't you?"
"Yes," Y/N answered, her pussy clamping around his fingers. When Jonathan curled them inside her once more and moved his index finger back and forth, an embarrassingly loud moan escaped her, the pleasure incredible as he hit that spot inside her.
"Tonight, I'll take you right here, but next time, you’re gonna be bent over my desk," Jonathan said to her as he withdrew his fingers from inside her and swiped his thumb over her clit instead, eliciting another loud moan from her. "From now on, you’ll let me take you whenever and wherever I want. Do you understand me, Y/N?"
"Yes!" she cried out desperately as he swiped her clit again. Her head was still slightly foggy, and Jonathan's words had her ready to do anything he said. Her heart was racing as she met his eyes.
"You pretend to be so proper, but you're not. You want to be a naughty girl, don’t you?" Jonathan said.
"Yes!" Y/N cried again, Jonathan's thumb repeatedly circling her clit having her eyes practically rolling to the back of her head.
"You sound like a broken record,” Jonathan said then. "So beautifully pathetic." He ceased his ministrations then, and at the loss of his touch, Y/N was practically crying.
"Jonathan..." she breathed out in need, feeling so delirious that she didn't even realize she'd said his first name, which she'd never done before. "Jonathan, please!"
At the sound of his name falling from her mouth in that desperate, whiny voice, Jonathan was moving his hands to his belt, unfastening it and opening his pants, the clinking sound of the buckle sounding louder than it actually was in the otherwise empty lab. He then reached out and grasped Y/N's wrist, pulling her hand to his briefs and slipping her hand inside, guiding her to palm his bulging cock.
"Please, what?" he said as he held her hand in place. "Is this what you want, Y/N? Do you want my cock?"
"Yes!"
"Where do you want it? Tell me."
"I want it inside me. I want to feel you fill me."
Feeling the heat of Jonathan's stiff cock, all she could think about was having him fuck her, and she knew that she would forever do whatever he told her as long as she could feel him inside her.
"I'm going to fill you," Jonathan assured then, roughly pulling her closer again and hovering his mouth over hers as he spoke. "And you're going to take everything I give you, do anything I tell you to, and you're going to be my good girl. Always."
Jonathan caught the obedient little nod Y/N gave just before he connected their lips again, and as he did, he raised a hand to grasp one of her breasts again, massaging her and pinching her nipple before doing the same to her other breast, and then moving his mouth to her neck, sucking her flesh and following it with a soft kiss.
"Jonathan..." she breathed again.
"Are you ready, Y/N?" he said lowly against her neck. "I think you are."
"Yes!" she said again for what felt like the hundredth time that night, and Y/N felt her wetness nearly ready to drip from her folds as she heard Jonathan draw himself out of his briefs. But her weeping pussy was then immediately met with the feel of his hot tip prodding her entrance, and she whimpered again.
"You're so ready," she heard Jonathan say, and then she was suddenly momentarily thoughtless from the insane pleasure of his cock slamming inside her.
"Ahhhhhh!" she cried out, feeling like she was being split in two as Jonathan's hips became flush with her inner thighs. She desperately reached up and grasped the lapels of his blazer, the stars in her vision slowly disappearing as she continued to adjust to the feeling of him inside her.
"Ohhh, fuck, sweetheart," Jonathan groaned as he felt her walls clamp needily around his shaft. She milked him without even trying, and he immediately began thrusting in and out of her, unable to go slow any longer.
"Oh, God!" Y/N panted as she gripped his jacket tighter, instinctively wrapping her legs around Jonathan's waist as he began to move in and out of her. She clamped around him with each thrust, and she felt his fingers digging into her hips as she began to meet each of his thrusts with a rutting of her hips.
"That's my girl," Jonathan said roughly as he continued to fuck her. “Taking me so well."
Her chest was heaving, and Jonathan was having a hard time deciding where to focus his eyes — on her beautiful breasts bouncing with each thrust, on her plump, parted lips as she gasped again and again, or on the sight of his thick cock slamming in and out of her drenched pussy. But he relished in knowing that he'd now have countless opportunities to see each of these delicious sights again and again. He'd fuck her silly before he'd ever have enough.
In the future, Jonathan would draw everything out, make her squirm, whine, and downright beg for release. But tonight, he'd make it easy on her, to show her just how good he could make her feel...if she earned it.
Returning his thumb to her clit, he again stroked her over and over, and as he watched her face beautifully contort in pleasure again, he grabbed a fistful of her hair with his free hand, tugging it roughly enough to force her to look at him, her eyes widening in surprise and mild pain as his pull on her strands stung her scalp, causing her to whimper again.
"Do you want me to make you come, Y/N?" Jonathan asked her as she met his eyes.
"Yes! Please!" She thrusted her own hips into his once more, seeking what he was offering her. "And...and..." she couldn't think anymore.
"What?"Jonathan asked her. "Say it."
She clamped around him again.
"And I want you to come inside me."
Jonathan gave her a devilish smile.
"Oh, that was happening whether you asked or not," he replied. "You're going to take everything I give you."
Her heart racing, Y/N nodded obediently once more, and with a final, sloppy kiss between them, Jonathan then resumed his previous pace, fucking her hard and fast as he alternated between stroking her clit and pinching her nipples.
With every touch and thrust, Y/N could feel herself unravelling more and more, and she reached up and desperately gripped Jonathan's shoulders as she felt herself nearing the edge.
"I...Jonathan, I..."
"Are you close, sweetheart?" he urged her.
"Yes," she panted.
Jonathan once more pulled her closer, his hands on her hips like a death grip as he prepared to bring her over the edge and finish inside her.
"You're going to come now, Y/N," he commanded her.
In a final push of thrusts and strokes, Jonathan had her mewling in desperation, and when he lowered his mouth to her neck and nipped her skin as he thumbed her a final time, he felt her suddenly clamp around him with insane tightness as a high-pitched squeal escaped her and her body tensed.
Her eyes squeezing shut and her heart pounding in her ears, Y/N was once again thoughtless, only registering her reactions and responses to how Jonathan fucked her with intention, and when he commanded her in that voice and bit at her neck, she was gone. As his thumb stroked her a final time through her wetness, she came with an uncontrollable squeal, gripping his shoulders so tightly that her knuckles were white against the fabric of his jacket.
Hearing her desperately pleasured whine, Jonathan let himself go, pounding into her with determination until he himself was coming, releasing inside her with rope after rope of cum, imagining each bit of his release painting her walls and marking his territory as he finished inside her, hearing her still panting against him as he groaned deeply.
Eventually, the sounds between them lessened, and finally, Jonathan pulled himself out of her as Y/N's hands slipped from his shoulders, whimpering a final time as she felt him leave her body. After tucking himself back inside his briefs, Jonathan fastened his pants again and re-buckled his belt before looking up at Y/N, who still sat on the counter before him, slightly shivering with her naked chest still exposed and her legs still spread, her bare pussy leaking with his cum.
When Y/N lifted her eyes to meet his, Jonathan reached up and stroked her cheek before he spoke again.
"It shouldn't be long now before the effects fully wear off," he said, reaching for her lab coat on the counter, picking it up and encouraging her to slip her arms through the sleeves as he helped her put it back on, never minding about her discarded bra or blouse. He buttoned it for her before then lowering his fingers to her pussy and pushing his escaping cum back inside her. Y/N's thighs quivered as his fingers briefly entered her again.
"Once you're feeling back to normal, I want you to go home," he continued softly. "Don't wash yourself until the morning. Then I want you to come straight to my office tomorrow, and I want you wearing nothing but that lab coat. Do you understand?"
Pressing her thighs together, Y/N silently nodded, her heart still pounding.
"Good girl," Jonathan said, and he stroked her cheek one more time before leaning closer once more.
"You'll always be my good girl, won't you?" he said to her, already knowing her response.
"Yes," Y/N breathed out, nodding slowly. "Always."
With a satisfied nod, Jonathan leaned forward a final time, placing a soft kiss on Y/N's lips before backing away. Then he turned and walked out of the lab, Y/N looking after him as she slowly began to feel like herself again, but with a renewed desirous anticipation, wondering just exactly what Jonathan had in mind for her next.
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#kinktober 2024#kinktober#jonathan crane#jonathan cran fic#jonathan crane x female reader#jonathan crane x reader#jonathan crane smut#cillian murphy
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arranged - part 2 [thomas shelby x reader smut]
[ this is part 2 of my first thomas shelby fic, arranged, which you can read through the link. i will say this storyline is a bit heavier in terms of tommy’s tv character, given he can be, well, toxic. also, this fic is like extremely detailed, just as a fair warning. ]
word count - 3.4k
[ summary - months after their wedding night, the reader and tommy experience their first real issue at arthur’s birthday dinner. there’s much more to their relationship than they realize, as they physically prove to each other how deep their affections go. ]
[ warnings - jealousy, accusations of cheating, dirty talk, slight bondage, unprotected & rough sex ]
-
shockingly, the morning after tommy and i first slept together, we grew much closer to each other, so much so that i had a trusted role through the peaky blinders when it came to their finances and arrangement of meetings. tommy was reluctant at first, but given that i was the reason they were five times wealthier and also had much more property now, my points were well made to him and his family.
i wouldn’t say i was bossy, but i knew what i wanted, and despite tommy’s attitude in front of his family, he sure seemed to like it when we were alone. i thoroughly believed i knew him pretty well, even if we had only been married for four months now.
i knew i didn’t want to be the type of woman who stayed back home and let their husband do all the work, but there were days where i was exhausted, wether it was from staying up late working on the money distribution, or making sure tommy’s son was asleep before the sun was up. overall, i wanted to work, and i wanted to have a place in not necessarily the peaky blinders, but his family, because they were now mine too, and truthfully, the only people i had now that my father was gone.
something polly and i agreed to work on together was arthur’s birthday dinner. i wasn’t very close to arthur, which was perfectly fine, but i wanted tommy’s family to know i cared. polly needed the help anyway, given how busy the boys had been lately, so i kept my promise to help her set up, plan the guest list, and get the gifts for arthur. from what tommy told me, he seemed to be having a rough time lately, but a party would probably cheer him up and help him get out of such a negative headspace, even if it was only for a few hours.
after we finished setting out the utensils, i rushed upstairs to get myself ready before tommy came home. part of me was hoping tonight wasn’t all about business for tommy, because while we had grown much more fond of each other lately, his mind was still so enclosed in his work. i knew we weren’t in love, but we had something there - more than just physically.
as i was slipping on my evening gown, i hear the bedroom door creak open, turning around to see tommy, who looked up to me with a drunken smile. my eyes widen a bit, more confused than shocked to see him in such a drunken state so early, as i walk towards him, helping him slip off his jacket onto the hanger next to the door.
“arthur insisted we start the party early. i promise this wasn’t intentional, [y/n]. i don’t want to be in too much trouble so soon with you.” tommy said through a suggestive smile, taking my face in one hand before pulling me into a kiss, the taste and smell of whiskey heavy against his lips.
i return his kiss, but lightly push him off of me, walking back to the dresser to grab my necklace from the jewelry box. tommy walks over and takes it from my hands, brushing my hair off my neck and clasping the metal for me. i smile softly, looking to him through the mirror and shaking my head in disbelief, amazed that he even agreed to get drunk so early in the evening.
“i may have to monitor you tonight, tommy. how many drinks have you had?” i question as i turn around, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss.
i feel his hands slide down my back and to my ass, attempting to lift me onto the dresser before i stop him once again. i shake my head, pecking his lips again before pulling away. “that gives me a pretty clear answer.” i tease, leaning down to slip on my heels. “i didn’t think i’d have to be babysitter tonight, especially for my husband, the most serious man i know.”
“oh, [y/n], you and i both know i can loosen up when i choose to.” he took my hand and walked towards the door, opening it and gesturing for me to walk through first. he snaked his arm around my back, holding me tightly, and protectively, as we walked down the wooden stairs. “who knows, maybe i’ll loosen this tonight too.” he pats my ass, tugging at the fabric of my silk dress, which only made me blush at his suggestion. i roll my eyes and link our arms together, opening the front door to begin our short walk to the brewery.
a fairly large crowd of tommy’s family and friends were already there, surrounding the bar and drinking more alcohol than what i’d ever seen in my life. there was a side of tommy’s family i wasn’t fully exposed to yet, and i knew i’d receive quite the introduction to it tonight.
“there’s some people i’d like you to meet tonight. is that alright?” he asks in a more serious tone, despite his drunken appearance. even with alcohol in his system, tommy still knew how to conduct business, and the room around him.
i nod at his question, to where he then takes me to the bar and gestures me towards several people, business colleagues and family friends, who were all very kind to me, and addressed me never by my first name, only “mrs. shelby”.
i felt someone bump into me, averting my eyes from the woman i was speaking to and to none other than arthur, who was so drunk that i was almost surprised polly wasn’t having a nervous breakdown at the sight of the much more than tipsy birthday boy. i give him a soft smile and shake my head, taking his arm and helping guide him to one of the round tables.
“i think you need water, arthur. let me go get you one.” i say, standing up and staring to walk towards the bar again, before his hand unexpectedly grabs me by the waist, forcing me down onto his lap. my cheeks go red in the matter of a millisecond, immediate discomfort and anxiety rising to the surface.
“stop it, arthur, please. just let me go get you something to drink.”
arthur chuckles, keeping his grip so firm on my waist that i genuinely couldn’t get up without causing a scene. “[y/n], i always thought you were too good for tommy, from the day i met you. change it up a bit, eh? he wouldn’t mind it for a night.”
i scoff, glancing down to the drunk arthur before aggressively pushing myself off of him, taking the drink he was holding in one hand away and setting it on the table across from him.
“fuck off, arthur. you’re his brother. i know it’s your birthday, but i am the last thing you’d be getting as a gift tonight.” i run my hands down my dress to brush off the wrinkles his grip created. “sober up.”
i turn around and walk away with a quickening pace, opening the brewery door and heading back to the house. a part of me was hoping tommy didn’t see that because i knew he’d make a scene, and tonight wasn’t the night to cause any trouble.
i walked into the kitchen and grabbed a cigarette, lighting it the second i sat down at the dining room table, sighing as i blew out the smoke and rested back into the chair. it wouldn’t leave my head, the whole situation. i knew i had to tell tommy because he’d be upset if he found it out from anyone but me, and i knew this was going to be some sort of trust test - if arthur was lying, or if i was. fuck. either way, i had to go back, or they’d be confused as to where i was, and the last thing i wanted tonight was for the attention to be on me.
walking back to the brewery with a cigarette in hand, i opened the door and returned to the reeking smell of alcohol. i wince as it hits my nostrils, forcing myself into the room that now felt so suffocating.
i feel a light tap on my shoulder and glance down to see polly, a frown on her face as she guides me to the corner of the room.
“you know have to tell me what happened, dear. i’ve got arthur in the other room, far away from tommy. i don’t think he’s aware of the whole situation, but arthur didn’t seem to help explain your side.”
i sigh, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall. “of course he didn’t. he tried being suggestive with me and pulled me onto him, made it look like something it definitely was not. i went back to the house to cool off. i don’t want tommy to think it was my doing. i would ne-”
“i know you wouldn’t.” polly gave me a small smile of reassurance. she look my hand and walked me towards the private room in the back, one part of the brewery that was set up more like a meeting room. “tommy’s in there, i think it’s best you go to talk to him. i know you’re being truthful, and i do think he believes you, dear, but he needs to hear it from you. not me.”
i nod, biting at my bottom lip as a pit began to form in my stomach, knowing that this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. while i do think tommy believed me, or i at least hoped so, his image and my own was at stake. people who didn’t know me so well that saw arthur and i’s interaction may take me to be a cheater, and tommy to be carefree towards our marriage, even with his own brother coming into it. the entire situation wasn’t good for anyone.
i creak the wooden door open, meeting tommy’s eyes immediately upon entering the room. i shut it behind me and walk over, standing before the long table he was sitting at, silently. i sigh.
“you know i would never hurt you, tommy. he grabbed me, telling me he wanted me and that i was too good for you. you know i pushed myself off. i wouldn’t do that, ever.” i justify, crossing my arms and looking down at him as he stares at the table. “you, and your entire family, mean a lot to me. i would never want to put this arrangement, or us, in jeopardy.”
tommy sat up, walking towards me and reaching over to hug me softly, where i return his gesture by wrapping my arms around him tightly. i sigh, leaning my head onto his shoulder with relief. after a few seconds, he pulled away, grabbing me by the waist and helping me to sit on the table.
“you know how this looks for me, you, and my family though, right?” tommy begins, sliding up my dress, just enough for it to rest on my lower stomach. “i know you, [y/n], and i trust you, but members of the peaky blinders and others we work with don’t yet. they see you as more a placeholder for the void i haven’t been able to fill in years. do you understand that?”
i frown, looking up to tommy and reaching down to pull my dress back down. “tommy, that’s really not a nice thing to say to me. i don’t think anyone sees-”
“well, they fucking do.” he interrupts, grabbing my hands and setting them on the table.
he loosens his tie and pushes me down on my back, sliding the fabric off and onto my wrists, hastily tying them together above my head before pulling me down, my legs now fully hanging off the table, my heels falling down and onto the floor due to the angle i was laying at.
“you and i both know i don’t care much for what others think, but when it comes to this, to you, i care. you and i aren’t ever going to be perfect, but i think we have something, and i know you agree.” he says, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants down, the sound of the metal clashing against the wooden floor. “we have more than just this,” he says, gesturing to our bodies, “but right now, i’m more focused on those people out there knowing at least apart of us is together.”
i gulp, a rapid heat forming in my core as i watch him undress himself into nothing but his half buttoned dress shirt. he pumps himself in one hand, the other reaching over to rub my clit, causing me to moan loudly upon touch.
he grinned at my response, looking between my legs and watching himself touch me. “you are mine, mrs. shelby. no one else’s. i know you know that, but it seems that i’ll have to prove it to everyone else in the world, too.” he walked closer, grabbing my panties that hung on one leg and slipping the off, before gesturing for me to open my mouth, shoving them inside.
“can you be quiet for just a few minutes, love? i don’t want to fuck you like a whore, but it seems that i have to.” he leaned down to kiss my forehead softly, lips then trailing to my ear. “if you can take it, i’ll let you have your fun with me after, hm? i’ve been so busy lately, we haven’t had much time together. i bet you want my cock inside that pretty mouth of yours, [y/n].”
i nod to my husband, feeling him grab my body and turn me around in response. he helps me to lean against the table, my arms still tied and now laying in front of me as i arch my back, pressing myself against tommy while he aligns himself with my pussy. i feel him slide inside me, moaning through the fabric in my mouth, as tommy does the same, but more freely, of course.
he grabs me by my waist, fucking me like there was no tomorrow for either of us. his hands hold my hips firmly, the sounds of our sweating skin slapping together filling the room, along with the accompaniment of my muffled moans. yet my mouth, being hung open, made my panties to fall out and onto the table, which only caused tommy to slap his hand harshly against my ass, making me yell at his touch.
“you really can’t control yourself, [y/n]? am i going to have to stop?”
“fuck - no, tommy, please don’t stop!” i shout, my hands flat against the table and my face resting on top of them while he rocked my body back and forth. “i-i can put them back, baby, just please don’t stop..”
“this isn’t like you, love, so fucking desperate.. although you always get what you want, so i can’t be surprised. are you getting fucked like you want? you like taking me from the back? it’s not your usual style.” he teases, reaching past me to grab the underwear, tossing them to the floor. “keep talking and they won’t have to go back. i never hear you like this, [y/n]. i like when you beg. i didn’t know you could act like such a slut.”
i shake my head, burying the side of my face into my hands as he only pushes himself deeper, his fast-paced strokes calming down and his rhythm changing into something so much slower, but so much deeper than before. i feel him in my gut, my eyes closing as i savor every thrust he gave me.
“i-i think about it like this, sometimes…” i mutter, leaning my head up and gasping, feeling tommy grab the back of my head with one hand. “you fucking me from behind, so fucking deep, practically torturing me through my orgasm… fuck, tommy, i want it to hurt so much that it feels good.. i want you to make me sore..”
tommy groaned, leaning down to angle himself in a way that he was so deep inside of me that his balls slapped against my clit with each movement. he wiped the sweat off his forehead before moving that hand to my ass, the other holding my waist firmly. “you have a way with words, don’t you, mrs. shelby? i can make it hurt, if that’s what you’d prefer. i can make all those people know how much my wife wants to be treated like a little slut.”
i blush, nodding at his words and resting my chin against the table. “fuck me like you own me, mr. shelby.”
“i think you’re going to have to prove yourself if you want me to do that, love.”
tommy slowly pulls himself out of me, my pussy rapidly pulsating as i adapts to his release, his hands helping assist me into leaning up and onto the floor, where he then laid on his back, erection in the air. i lay on top of him, where he unties the tie and sets it on the ground. he kisses me passionately, taking me by the waist and leaning me up.
“bounce on my cock until you can’t anymore, hm? you wanna hurt, right? this is the best way to do that.” he tilts his head, assisting me into sliding onto his length, causing both of us to heavily moan into the new position, which somehow, brought us both to an even better feeling than before.
“touch yourself for me, love. i wanna see how much you can take.” tommy commands, reaching over to hold both of my breasts, playing with the nipples as i move one hand down to my clit, rubbing the sensitive bud as i grind on top of him, his cock hitting my insides perfectly.
i chew my bottom lip, looking down to tommy as i fuck him, nothing but a plain look that still displayed pleasure on his face, watching me move up and down, my fingers pressing onto my skin while he plays with my tits.
i felt like i was melting, so overstimulated that i wasn’t sure how much longer i could even move. my eyesight was clouded by the sweat on my eyelashes, my entire body drenched in sweat while i fucked my husband through my own touch, my orgasm climbing to the surface and in a matter of seconds, reaching its peak.
“fuck!” i moan, riding it out as i came, my own fluids mixing with tommy’s while he pushed himself up, the two of us thrusting at each other, our bodies clashing through each of our climaxes. i feel tommy fill my insides, my own fluids leaking from between us as he cock blocked anything further.
i pull myself off of him, his orgasm dripping from between my legs as i slowly stand up, holding the table as support, watching tommy walk over to hold me, kissing me gently and leaving love bites across my neck, and chest.
“i’d prefer our motivation to fuck like that not be caused by an outside source the next time, mrs. shelby. if you want to be fucked like a whore, just say it. i think you know i don’t mind.” he grinned, kissing my forehead before walking over to a cart of drinks, grabbing a few towels and sitting me on the table, starting to wipe down my body.
“i don’t think i can be fucked like that for some time, tommy. i don’t think i’d be able to get out of bed in the morning.” i blush, watching him slide the towel down my inner thighs to wipe himself off of me. “we’ve been gone for awhile anyway, don’t you think we should get back to the party?”
“in just a minute, [y/n].” tommy says, setting the towel down before spreading my legs a bit further. he kisses between my thighs, before gently rubbing my clit, causing my back to arch at the touch. “i think my wife needs to cum again, don’t you think?”
i sigh, leaning back against the table and holding the sides of it. “fuck, tommy.” i moan feeling his arms wrap around my thighs, his face now buried between my heated skin. “i think so, too.”
#smut writing#cillian murphy#fanfic#smut#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader smut#thomas shelby imagine#peaky blinders#peaky blinders x reader#thomas shelby peaky blinders#peaky blinders x y/n#female#female reader#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby x y/n#thomas shelby smut
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A mini heart attack: sponsored by YN and Cillian
(Cillian murphy x driver! Fem reader)
masterlist // part 1
Faceclaim: Angelina Jolie
Liked by lance_stroll, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 1,718,042 others
mickschumacher: I do sometimes calk them mom and dad
username: IT'S YOU!!!
username: you had every single yn and cillian fan lose their mind FOR A FUCKING WEEK!!!
username: it's me, hiii, I'm the problem it's me
username: he was watching twitter burning down with a smile
username: noooo!!! I just got emotionally ready to see yn and cillian's children, you can't do that to me!!
landonorris: can I call yn mum too?
lance_stroll: no
oscarpiastri: sure, if you want a repeat of what happened last time
landonorris: I hate you guys, I still get nightmares
lance_stroll: it was actually mick's idea
landonorris: @.mickschumacher you evil human being, how do you even come up with something that traumatising!
mickschumacher: if you want a doll talking to you at 3 am keep going
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 social media au#f1#f1 instagram au#f1 smau#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy social media au#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian murphy x oc#formula 1 x female reader#f1 x female reader#female driver
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Camboy
anon: Can you write something about Neil, where he works in Gumshoe during the day but at night he works as a cameraman for a pornstar (the reader is there), who else is his favorite. As time goes by, the reader realizes that his cameraman, Neil, is a very interesting man and decides to experience him, very interesting, since he is still a virgin. So yes I want something smut and also sex tape.
TW: loss of virginity , p in v, unprotected sex, camera sex.
Not proofread.
Neil Lewis, a simple man with a simple life. He loved his job, his friends and his family. He was always at Gumshoe because he owned it and ran it with pride, but that didn’t always pay the bills so by night Neil had his own little secret that no one knew about until now.
The sun was setting on the horizon as he finished picking up around the store until the little bell above the signaled someone walking in. Neil looked up to see you standing there and it was as if an angel had walked in because you were being bathed in the sunlight.
“Welcome to Gumshoe!” He spoke up making you look in his direction.
“Hi! I have a return!” You dug through your bag before you handed him a vhs tape.
“Oh okay, thanks.” He took it from your hand. “You know I’ve never seen you before , I’d remember a face like yours… so you’d you end up with a return.”
Your cheeks turned pink as you tucked your hair behind your ear. “I was doing a favor for a friend.” Your hands ran nervously over your stomach while Neil took the return to put it back into the system.
“You’re a good friend.” He spoke up and everytime he spoke to you there was something you couldn’t place your finger on but you swear you knew him. You said a goodbye and waved as he waved back but it wasn’t goodbye because as you walked down the sidewalk it hit you where you’ve heard his voice before and why he looked familiar.
You ran back through the door making Neil jump a little when you came back in a hurry. He raised an eyebrow at you.
“Did you need something else?” He gave a half hearted smile before you thought it over one last time.
“I.. you… you’re on camboy.net!” You grinned ear to ear. Neil’s eyes went wide, cheeks dark red and his mouth hung open because he never told anyone about that so how did you know? He furrowed his eyebrows because you’re a stranger who knows his secret.
“How did you know that?”
“Because I watch you! I’d recognize that voice and plus your hands.” You pointed at his hands that he quickly tried to hide. Neither of you spoke a word for what felt like ages when in reality only three minutes had passed. Neil looked around before leaning in to you.
“Please, no one knows and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Your secret safe with me.” You batted your eyelashes at him while running your finger up his arm which gave Neil goosebumps. As confident as he was as a camboy he still had never touched a woman in a sexual manner. “But can I ask something that’s a little selfish?” Neil nodded before you pressed your hand onto his chest. “Will you call me a good girl?” Neil’s cock twitched. He nodded before placing his hand on your waist, pulled you close which made you giggle and his cock twitch again because you were too damn cute.
“Such a good girl.” He whispered into your ear and thighs clenched tightly as his lips gently brushed against your ear lobe. You whined softly. Neil couldn’t help himself when you made such a pretty sound. “Do you always make those noises?” He asked. You nodded a little bit before stepping back, smoothed out your dress and smiled at him.
“You know if you’d ever want a partner for your videos…” you pulled out a piece of paper from your bag and a pen so you could write down your address. “Don’t be afraid to stop by.” You handed him the paper to which Neil smiled when his fingers brushed over yours.
“I get off in twenty…” he blurted out making you stop in your tracks. “If you want to…”
You sat down on the couch in the store and Neil quickly finished up cleaning , making sure everything was all set to go and double checked everything in his office. He went in there to also calm himself down because it was happening ! He was going to be touching a woman in more than just a make out session. He came back out to see you sitting and he wanted to take you right there!
“I’m all set if you are.” He rubbed the back of his neck before you stood up, grabbed his hand and squeezed it.
Once you got back to Neil’s place he was over the moon. His place was closer and you didn’t mind. This was a dream come true. He opened the front door for you making you smile. Neil put his hand on your hip to help you up the stairs and into the room that he made his porn in.
“I take it, this isn’t where you sleep.” You laughed making him laugh too.
“No , that’s across the hall and maybe you’ll see that too.” He lead you into the room before guiding you to the bed. Neil grabbed his camera and set it up how he normally does while you sat swinging your legs. “That’s all set up and ready to go when you are doll.”
You stood up and threw your bag to the side before turning your back to him. “Unzip me.” You looked over your shoulder with soft eyes that made Neil almost pass out. He stumbled over his own two feet before he unzipped your dress slowly. His eyes stared in awe as the fabric pooled around your feet.
“Sweetheart, what is your name?” Neil’s hands ran over your curves.
“Y/N but you can call me whatever you want.” Neil bit his bottom lip before he walked back to the camera.
“Do you want this to be live honey?”
“I have no problem with that.” Neil had his own camera set up before he turned on the computer and got everything set up on the website. You waited on the bed in your red panties as he did what he needed to do. Soon as he was live all the little “dings” that let him know people were watching was going crazy. Neil didn’t say a word before he walked back over to you and sat down next to you. His hand rested on your thigh before giving it a squeeze. You looked at him before cupping his cheek in your hand. His eyes looked right into yours before he kissed you. His lips were soft moving against yours.
His fingers trailed up your thighs until he moved between them and felt your wet panties. He smirked against your lips.
“I’ve barely touched you darling and you’re wet.”
“That’s what you do to me.”
Neil spread open your legs, held them there and looked at the camera before winking at it. His fingers moved to grab your panties and pulled them down to show off your wet pussy. “Fuck! Look at you! Such a pretty little pussy.” His thumb ran over your folds making you gasp before he put his index finger inside of you slowly. Neil watched how your face scrunched in pleasure and it was better than any porn he’s ever watched,
Neil waisted no time before getting on his knees in front of you, holding your legs open and shoving his face deep between your thighs to lick at your pussy.
“Such an eager boy! That’s its baby! Fuck!” You praised Neil as he licked up and down your pussy. He’s never ate pussy before but he’s doing a good job. He’s watched enough porn to figure it out. Your hands gripped the red sheets below you as Neil looked up at you through his eyelashes. He looks so pretty. His tongue flattened out so he could taste every inch of you. You bit your bottom lip holding back your moans until Neil pulled away to stand between your legs.
“Can’t wait to fuck you sweetheart.” He laid on top of you so he could kiss you heavily. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. The two of you were gabbing at each other like horny animals. As the two of you made out Neil pulled away to whisper into your ear that he’s a virgin. Your eyes went wide and you laid there looking at him before he started to pull away, you grabbed his face and pulled him down for a kiss.
“Anything you don’t want to do…” you started as he looked into your eyes.
“I want this.” Neil dragged his hands over your body before he stood up, dropped his own pants and boxers letting his cock spring free.
“Jesus…” you gasped looking at his cock. It wasn’t the first time you had seen it but seeing it in person was much different. Neil stroked his cock in front of you slowly before waking to the dresser but you grabbed his hand. “No baby, I want it raw.” You blew him a little kiss and Neil jumped back onto the bed. He pulled you closer , grabbed your leg and wrapped it around his waist as he lined up the head of his cock to your cunt and pushed in gently.
A soft moan came out of your lips. Neil’s cock was average in length but the girth was the biggest you’ve had. He pushed his cock all the way in making him groan because he’s finally loosing his virginity to such a pretty girl even though he had only known you for a few hours in person, he knew that you had been supporting him for awhile. How could a pretty girl like you be attracted to him? He wasn’t going to question it now! He was too busy fucking you like a gentleman.
You looked into his eyes as he fucked into you. You laid face to face on your side which Neil enjoyed too, he loved watching how your eyes would roll , the way your lips twitched before a moan fell out and god those moans of yours were driving him crazy. To be fair hearing a girl actually moan for him was going to kill him but he didn’t care. Your hands grabbed his arms as he picked up the pace.
“Shit, I’m not going to last!” Neil whined as he felt his climax quickly approaching .
“That’s okay honey. Cum for me!” You kissed him hard yet passionately and that’s what took Neil out . He squeezed your waist tightly as he came inside of you with a loud whimper.
“Aww good boy! Good boy.” You ran your fingers through his hair as he panted looking up at you but he wasn’t done. Neil fucked his load into you. He gave it his all , the room smelled of sex! The sounds of his load squelching inside you echoed along with all the dings from the computer reminding you that people were watching it was a lot and your nails dug into his skin as you cried out that you were cumming as well. Your organs hit hard, which made you squeeze his cock and Neil whined again since he was still overstimulated.
Both of you laid there panting with soft grins on your faces. He pushed the hair on your forehead out of the way so he could place a loving kiss to it. Very slowly Neil pulled out of you, got up, ended his stream, turned off the camera and looked back you.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” You perked up on your elbows.
“I know it’s a little early to ask this, but would you want to do that again?” Neil asked as he helped you to your feet
“What? Have sex?”
“Yes but the live again… well no all of it !”
“Of course.” You smiled at him before he wrapped his arms around you tightly and took you with him to clean up the mess you two had made.
#neil lewis blurb#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#emsblurbs#neil lewis fluff#neil lewis x fem reader#neil lewis watching the detectives#neil lewis x reader#neil lewis smut#neil lewis#neil lewis x you#Neil Lewis x female reader#Neil Lewis fanfiction
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┊ ➶ 。˚ ° CILLIAN MURPHY x f! reader
┊age gap ; fluff ; cillian is so babygirl
. . .
YOU were getting ready for an oppenheimer premiere; it was your first time being by his side in public. it makes you happy that you can finally announce to the world that cillian is your boyfriend. it was controversial because of the age gap you guys have because you were in your late twenties, and he is in his late forties. for you, it wasn't a problem, obviously, but you know how people would react. but you didn’t care; cillian makes you the happiest person in the world, and people’s opinions cannot change it.
“you look beautiful.” you heard cillian’s voice behind you and smiled at his compliment. even if the dress were from a thrift store, you loved it, and in your opinion, it was the perfect outfit for this movie.
“thank you, darling, you look so handsome,” you said, turning to him and smiling. cillian was wearing a black suit with a sheer shirt. he was looking too good in this outfit.
he just chuckled, put his arm around your waist, and kissed your lips. cillian was admiring everything in you — he cannot imagine his life without you innit. he loved how humbled you were and how positive you were always, even if circumstances didn’t make you the happiest. but most of all, he loved that you made him feel young again.
and you were admiring everything about him. you loved how clueless he could be when it came to technology and trends; it was always so funny and sweet to you. you loved how he cared about his sons and his friends. he was your dream man and your safe person. he never judged you or the things you did; he was understanding and caring.
“are you stressed?” his question woke you up from daydreaming.
“to be honest, i am not. i know that people are going to talk about us, but i don’t care. it’s your day, and i want to celebrate with you,” you simply said, kissing his nose with a smile.
. . .
STANDING among all the celebrities and paparazzi, you started to feel anxious, even if you thought that you would be fine. cillian felt how your hand clenched on his arm. he kissed your temple and whispered some words that made you feel better. you weren’t a celebrity, so it’s obvious that you didn't feel comfortable and confident in this kind of situation, but you were dating an actor, so you needed to get used to it.
when the time for photos came, you stepped on the black carpet. you weren’t hiding that you weren't feeling the most comfortable posing for photos. but when cillian told you to look at him and not at the paparazzi, you felt a little better seeing him smiling. you were so proud.
people were a bit surprised that cillian showed up with a woman next to him, but they didn’t scream hateful comments, but the opposite. they complimented your look; you could even hear comments like, ‘she is so beautiful’ ‘wish i was her’ etc.
after done the all photos you leave the carpet happily smiling. it felt nice made your relationship public and it was comforting that people weren’t hateful about your relationship.
“you have done so well, love. i love you so much,” cillian said, kissing your lips. he doesn’t care about people around anymore.
yes, you are the happiest person in the world right now.
- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ thank you for attention!! ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
#cillian murphy#imagines#actors#cillian murphy x reader#x female reader#reqs open#oppenheimer#premiere#red carpet#oppenheimer 2023#oppenheimer movie#oppenheimer premiere#cillian x fem!reader#cillian murphy x y/n
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M A S T E R L I S T :
S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T
dividers: @cafekitsune
PEDRO PASCAL:
✿ the oscars
✿ the after party
✿ the era’s tour
✿ espresso ✿ thunderstruck
Javier Peña: COMING SOON
Frankie Morales:
i’ve got you
ghost ✿ you’re home
Joel Miller:
✿ I love you
✿ You’re Mine
✿ Parenthood
✿ The Proposal
✿ Family Emergency ✿ haunted corn maze ✿ tiktok ✿ late night snack ✿ pampering day ✿ first date ✿ barbecue
BRIDGERTON:
Colin Bridgerton:
✿ Jealousy Jealousy
✿ Welcome Home
Anthony Bridgerton:
✿ Dual of wits
✿ Lost ✿ desire
Benedict Bridgerton:
✿ A Bridgerton Wedding
✿ Paint
✿ Picnic
✿ Knight and shining armor
✿ Steamy
✿ Family ✿ jealousy ✿ stargazing ✿ beautiful ✿ game night ✿ masquerade ✿ quality time ✿ sting
CILLIAN MURPHY: COMING SOON
Tommy Shelby:
✿ heated
✿ suprise
RILEY GREEN:
✿ you look like you love me
TYLER OWENS ✿ long time no see
#pedro pascal#joel miller#pedro pascal x reader#anthony bridgerton x reader#cillian murphy x reader#tommy shelby x reader#benedict bridgerton#joelmiller x reader#pedrohub#pedropascal x reader#bridgerton#javier pena x reader#javier pena fanfiction#pedro x reader#peaky blinder fanfic#pedro pascal imagine#pedroispunk#pedro pascal is hot#pascalispunk#colin bridgerton x you#colin bridgerton imagine#colin bridgerton#tommyshelby x female reader#tommy shelby x female reader#joel miller x reader#tommy shelby imagine#cillian murphy
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He's so Lana Del Rey actually
#Spotify#girlblogging#girl blogger#girly thoughts#girl hysteria#grunge#girly stuff#lana del ray aka lizzy grant#female rage#coquette#femme#female manipulator#femaledaily#female hysteria#feminine rage#feminine sissy#hyper feminine#cillian murphy#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#cillian x reader#dilfgifs#pretty#it girl#girlhood#girl interrupted#girly#girlblogger#tumblr girls#hell is a teenage girl
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A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic. (Part Thirteen)
Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.
Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.
We Got Issues
Part Thirteen: Cillian's sons spend the evening with them, with a takeaway, and Y/N can see he loves their presence. But when their plans to have 'the talk' are thwarted, Y/N gets confirmation from Cillian that the love is there, their relationship is enduring, but that he knows they have issues to discuss. [Fluff/Comfortable - no sexual scenes but some sexual language]
@remembering-angels @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @meadowshelby @lavender-haze-01 @strangeions
“Ah, shut up!” Aran sticks up for himself as Malachy makes yet another joking dig, and you can see Cillian's face as he tries not to laugh. The rarely used dining table is awash with cardboard boxes, half finished pizzas, and the greasy but somewhat addictive smell of takeout fries that always taste better than homemade food. You lean back into your chair, holding your glass of Coke, and splutter a laugh over the mouthful you attempt to sip from it when Aran follows up his moan with a skillfully hidden middle finger directed towards his brother, that Cillian failed to catch, and Aran is grinning as he looks across at you when you laugh. You wink at him with a smile over your shared secret.
It falls quiet for a moment, but for the music coming from Cillian's Spotify playlist pulled up on the TV, and it's in that quiet moment that Malachy switches from their playfulness into something a little more serious. “You're flying back over to England in the morning, Dad?” He asks.
Cillian is sitting with his elbows on the table and his chin resting in the palm of his right hand. He's been fiddling his fingers in and around his mouth for a while - it's often a mindless sort of idiosyncratic quirk, but there are times you've watched him soothe himself this way when anxiety is high. He straightens a little and drops his arm down. He's wearing his glasses and he looks a mixture of blissfully happy at the family chaos and utterly exhausted by life in general. You are both a little hungover - and you'd finally gotten from him that morning the extent of his and Enda's additional drinks! - and you can tell he's still feeling it compared to you feeling better. “Eh, evening flight.” He answers and there's a smile that forms that is sweet. “I've a week or so then I'll come back for a few days, and then I'll be there until, um, a week before Christmas. And youse are welcome to stay when I'm back, you know that. Sure youse can stay here if I'm not, it's your house too.” he says with conviction and Malachy nods his head. Right then, you can't tell if the young lad is melancholic or just not particularly expressionistic. “I'll ring your Mum myself, but did youse mention Christmas to her at all?” He asks.
Aran nods, finishing a mouthful of pizza before he replies, wiping the side of his mouth as he speaks. “She said it's up to us.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“I don't want to not see either of you for Christmas.” Malachy says, and you decide, by the tone of his voice, that he is fairly melancholic. “If we stayed with Mum, though, you'd come over or something?”
“I would, of course,” Cillian nods and he's frowning earnestly behind the specs. “I'll be here, like, and we can see one another whenever youse want. If you want to stay with your Mum, then do, it's fine. We can pick another day, and cook here or get a table somewhere. Honestly boys, it's fine. Same as last year.” He's reassuring them, you know, but you can see that same battle in Cillian that you know for sure the boys are having - their own feelings versus everyone else's.
“There's plenty of time off school and work ahead, you'll be able to come and go as you please,” you say quietly, and Malachy gives you a genuine smile, even if it is small, that you take as a thankful acceptance of your words. There's a quiet that falls again and you awkwardly look from one Murphy man to the other. Cillian's playlist seems to fall silent for a minute too, but when it restarts, it seems much louder. It booms the folky guitars of Lemon 7s by ‘A Lazarus Soul’, and you can see Cillian slowly and silently mouthing along.
“There's a video of you being passed around, Dad.” Aran speaks up and you know it's going to both amuse and disinterest Cillian to learn about it.
“Is there, yeah?” He raises his eyebrows and brings his glass to his lips. As he draws it back, he licks his lips and nods in Aran's direction. “G’on, what is it?” He humours his son.
“Ah nothing strange, just from last night, saying about us studying the book. Obviously it's way before you got locked.” Aran says offhandedly, and Malachy laughs at the declaration.
Cillian smirks and shakes his head. “I was not locked.” He weakly defends himself, but laughs a little when he looks up at both boys who are both making faces either at him or pretending to be ridiculously drunk. Malachy had picked up on his Dad's obvious delicate temperament the moment he'd got into the car when Cillian had picked them up, according to both boys, and had been slagging him on it ever since. Aran just found the idea that his Dad was hanging to be delightfully amusing.
“Even Y/N agrees,” Malachy continues his slagging, and gestures across at you. “Was he pissed last night?”
You chuckle as they all turn to you, and Cillian's subtle wink is amusing and also a sign that you're fine to slag as much as you like and he'll not get arsey over it. “Out of his mind,” you tease with a laugh. “Nah,” you say, “I mean he wasn't sober or anything, but there wasn't any falling asleep at the island with his shoes as a pillow.”
Malachy's eyebrows rise up and Aran's head whips to his Dad with gleeful expectation at your breadcrumbs for a story. “When was that?” Malachy laughs loudly.
“Easter last year,” you laugh. “We went to a birthday thing for a friend in Balbriggan, I think.” You smile as you look at Cillian, and you're glad he's smiling. “He learned his limit on the beer that night, and for three days after.” You laugh. He had been in a bit of a state the days after this particular party. While he had a drink or two fairly often, it was rare when he let the alcohol be the guide, so times like this one, while good for slagging and remembering, weren't anything you'd ever use as a resentment or a punishment.
“Oh! I remember, we came for dinner the next day.” Malachy laughs and points his finger towards his Dad playfully. “Y/N picked us up, she said you weren't feeling too good but you wanted us here for dinner still. Whole time we were here you were on the sofa there.”
Aran looks at you, then his Dad. “That when you were being sick upstairs when we got in the door?” Aran asks, laughing, and Cillian gives them the embarrassed reaction they want by covering his face with his hands, but as he drops his hands back down, he's laughing at the jibes. “You need a downstairs toilet.” He laughs.
“That's the one,” you say. “I don't think you went near any food for two days.” you laugh, and reach out your hand across the table and pat his hand. As your hand lifts off his, he turns his palm over and lovingly captures your fingers, holding you there.
“Laugh now,” he says and looks at his boys in turn, “When youse are out with your friends and coming rolling back home to your Mum, you'll be on your arses the next day yourselves. And, sure I'll laugh!” He says lightly, chuckling. He rubs his thumb back and forth slowly across your fingers in his hand. “You all done, or still eating?” He asks, and he releases your hand as he stands up. He pushes his chair back with his legs and starts collecting together the empty containers on the table.
Both boys begin pushing away half finished food and empty boxes, sliding them towards their Dad. You get to your feet and help with the clearing away, “No, stay there,” you say as Aran goes to stand up and help with the cleaning. “Finish your drink.” You smile.
“Ah, give over, the two of you get up there now and help,” Cillian says with amusement. “It's your home, you help with the jobs. C’mon. Mal, will you bring the empty glasses into the sink there? And eh, Aran, grab a dishcloth in the kitchen and give that table a wipe.” He says, piling the pizza boxes and containers into a neat stack. He's light hearted, but he is keen, as he always has been, that the boys are helpful around the house when they're here. Not that he'd have them scrubbing or anything, but it isn't the first time at all that he's had them clear up after dinner. “I'll throw these out in the outside bin,” he says, glancing at you. As he takes the tower into his arms, he peers around to see where the lads are, and leans towards you for a gentle kiss. You smile as he steps back again, “Dessert.” He says, cheesy and tacky and smiling like an idiot. You can't help smiling back, then you shake your head as you watch him head toward the front door to leave the containers into the recycling bin.
“Thanks, you two,” you say, entering the kitchen, where you find both boys loitering after finishing the tasks Cillian had set for them. “Slave driver, your Dad.” you joke and Malachy offers a smirk but you suspect it to be one of pity. “School tomorrow?” You ask, looking between the boys. Aran was approaching his leaving cert and Malachy was in a college you didn't know too much about.
“Study day tomorrow,” Malachy replies, and pulls his phone from his pocket. “If Dad isn't leaving early then tomorrow, can I stay here tonight?” At the age his was, Cillian did expect to see a little less of Malachy these days even if it hurt him, so hearing that he actually wanted to spend the night was a surprise.
You raise your eyebrows. It's been a long time since Malachy stayed over. You don't want to tell him no, but your stomach drops at the suggestion for one reason - that morning you and Cillian had agreed that you'd sit and talk this evening, and you were desperate to get it done. But turning Malachy away was the last thing you'd do, and you push a smile to your lips. “Yeah, I don't mind. I'm sure your Dad'll be happy.” You say, “You can stay too, Aran. I can always drive around and collect your things for school tomorrow from your mother, and Cill will drive you in the morning." Like summoning the devil, Cillian arrives in the kitchen, pushing up the sleeves of his thick jumper, and looks at you all in turn. “Cill, Malachy wants to stay,” you say, your eyes following him as he walks to the sink to wash his hands.
With his back to you all, he turns his head over his shoulder to his eldest son. “Grand, yeah, stay,” he smiles at him. “Sure I can drop you home before I leave tomorrow, or earlier if you want.”
“And you'll take Aran to school in the morning if he stays too, yeah?” You ask. Disappointed that your conversation is now on hold, you replace the feeling with the joy of the boys staying over for the first time in a long time, and the wonderful mood that you know it'll put Cillian in.
“I will, yeah,” Cillian says, turning off the tap. He turns around, drying his hands on the dish towel, and looks at Aran. “Do you want to stay or go home?” He asks, noticing he's a little quiet.
Aran shakes his head, “I'll go,” he says quietly. “I didn't finish some homework,”
“I can go out to your mother's and pick your things up.” You repeat your earlier offer.
Aran shakes his head again. Cillian reaches out and claps his hand onto Aran's back, “No bother, it's grand. Sure whenever you're ready I'll bring you home. You want to go now?” He asks and you can see a little bit of preempted separational upset creeping into his expression. Aran nods his head, indicating he's put up his walls and it's ready to return to his mum. Your anxiety questions whether it's something you've said or done that's suddenly seen Aran close up, but you can't think what. Cillian nods his head slowly. “Okay so,” he says quietly. “Let me get my runners on and I'll drop you home.”
By eleven pm, you and Cillian are curled together in bed, with the just audible sound of the TV in Malachy's room carrying through the upstairs. You lie with your head on his chest, in the region of his heart, and his arm is wrapped around the back of your shoulders to pull you in closer. His free hand is up on the pillow beside him with his fingers moving back and forth through his short hair. You keep your palm flat on his pyjama covered chest, but move your fingers a little, caressing against him gently. It's quiet and comfortable, and you're both exhausted, but you don't feel able to turn away and fall asleep.
“Sorry we didn't get to talk this evening,” Cillian says quietly, his voice a husky whisper.
You shrug your shoulders a little, “It's alright, Malachy being here is a good excuse to hold off.” You say, and consider that it is perhaps the only reason you two wouldn't talk tonight, knowing it was important.
“I didn't want to say no, it's rare he's about these days,” he continues and you agree fully. "And he's been gas craic there this evening, can't get over him and Aran growing up so fucking fast."
You hum softly at his sentimentality, and move your fingers softly against his chest again. “No, it's okay, I completely understand. We can talk another time.” You say with a soft sigh.
“It's important.” He says and you're glad he feels that way. “You were right with what you said yesterday, we need to talk about it all.” Despite wanting him on board this much, you also allow your anxieties to win as you wonder why he's so eager. What could he possibly have to say now? “Sure it's not like it's a discussion on splitting up, or that we don't love one another, fuck sake,” he says, “But I know it's a discussion that we both need to have and get united on.” You admire his confidence, and you sincerely hope that this is the case - reaching a point when you and Cillian feel the need to separate was a daunting idea - and you're so glad he understands that this needs to be aired and done properly. His arm tightens around you, pulling you closer in against the left side of his body. He smirks into the darkness of the bedroom but you can hear the small breathy laugh that accompanies it.
“What?” You whisper.
“Just after getting a flashback of last night,” be says and you can hear by how his words form that he's still smiling.
“Which part?” You ask, though you're sure you know well. You tap your hand against his chest where it rests and he laughs a little more. “Could it be the part where you couldn't get your fucking shoes off, or are you being filthy minded?”
He laughs again and it vibrates against your ear pressed to his chest. “I think that's one for the memory bank.”
“The wank bank you mean!” You tease. “If you pull yourself off in a hotel to me, spread-eagle on our sofa, I'll die of embarrassment!”
“Sure I'm away a long while sometimes,” he says, once again tightening his arm around you. “Can't expect me to walk around with the horn.” You laugh a little too loudly, and he shushes you even as he laughs too. He sighs as you both settle and you feel a wave of sadness that once again, tomorrow he'll be gone.
#cillian murphy#my fic#my fic: we got issues#we got issues#reader fic#reader x Cillian#reader x Cillian Murphy#female reader x Cillian Murphy#female reader x Cillian#y/n x cillian#y/n x Cillian Murphy#female y/n x cillian#female y/n x cillian murphy
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Binding Love (Part One/ Dark!Tommy)
Summary: After a morning of negotiations between lawyers, the day goes wasted when Tommy takes it upon himself to interfere in court proceedings. With your muddled intentions made clear, and your husband's declarations of love forcefully made known, a blazing row erupts between you both in the bustling streets of Birmingham. Will you ever be free from your husband's restraints? Do you even want to be?
Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, psychological abuse, mutual pining, angst.
Word Count: 5K
Authors Note: For the purpose of depicting the manipulative behaviour of Tommy in the first part of this chapter, I've taken it upon myself to have radios become a common feature in cars before they were. We'll pick back up from the first scene again in the last chapter. The song playing on the car radio is called "Release Me" by Engelbert Humperdinck.
[Masterlist] [Trailer] [Main Masterlist]
" Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you, anymore..." the sound of your husband's humming voice accompanied by the taunting song and a sharp turn of the cars rumbling wheels on the gritted ground, jolted you from the daze your tired body had drifted into.
"Tommy...Tommy!" you began to frantically cry into the darkness, faced once again with the horrors sleep had dulled for you. A slither of light beaming through a crack in the rear headlights, the salty air of sand and kelp your only comfort to stop your racing heart from plunging you into complete obscurity.
"Tommy please! I'm...I'm sorry! I was scared...you were scaring me!" Your stifled breath wept with desperation as you begged for mercy before panic took over, and you succumbed to the tight enclosure.
Losing track of the countless halting stops, the speeding turns as Tommy's foot pressed down onto the pedal with determination. You had given up on trying to route your husband's destination and fallen into a weary haze of slumber. But with Tommy's clear attempt to awaken you, and bless his lonely thoughts with the beauty of your strangled cries, he had also awoken the searing panic within you once again.
How many hours had it been...fuck, how many hours had it been?! How much air was left?!, your frightened mind scrambled to make sense of the amount of time that had passed through the music loudly confusing any tangible answer you could come to.
" I can't breathe...Oh my god, I...I can't breathe!" your chest heaved in a frenzy, relenting to the alarming situation you had distanced yourself from as your hands searched to ground your body before you let what was left of your sanity slip into the terror your husband was hellbent on inflicting on you.
" Tommy! I...I can't breathe!" your hand flew to your chest as adrenaline coursed through the blood pumping furiously throughout your body. Every muscle reacting in a torturous plea for you to flee the inescapable.
" Maybe you should stop screaming, sweetheart" Tommy's voice rose above the music as a wicked smirk etched on the corner of his curling lips. His arm resting casually on the open window with a lit cigarette perched between his fingers as one would on a leisurely Sunday drive in the country.
" You bastard!" you snapped forgetting yourself, throwing the warranted insult his way as a low chuckle obnoxiously echoed back to you in response.
" And to think I put a cushion in there for you" he teased, if only to spur on the enticing game of cat and mouse he had become the sole player of.
" Don't say I don't do anything nice for you, eh?" a slither of irritation seethed at the end of his tongue for the chaos he blamed you for. For the cascade of selfish decisions you had made he blamed on the day's events.
How could you have done this to him, after all...no. After everything he'd lovingly done for you to keep you away from those that wanted to ruin what you shared.
" I hate you...I fucking hate you! I never loved you Tommy, just like your fucking song! I don't love you! Are you listening?! " your screams continued as you thrashed your limbs against the walls. Desperately trying to garner a reaction out of him as your lungs heaved for the stolen air, panic had snatched from them.
And a reaction you got, but one you'd be thankful to not have witnessed when Tommy shifted in his seat, loosening the collar of his shirt from the restricting pang of anger bobbing in his throat. His jaw clenching into a grating sound of teeth grinding on top of one another as the blue of his eyes eclipsed with a foreboding shade of coal at the lies you had spoken to scorch him. Lies he knew were only said to fool yourself into believing, rather than succumbing to the truth that your doting husband was, and always would be, the only man you would ever love.
You were just...tired. A knock to the head would make anyone confused, Tommy told the distasteful burn that had settled on his chest as the calloused pads of his fingers turned the volume up to drown out any more unwarranted admissions that would have him act out on the sting you had pierced him with.
"I'm warning you, eh? You hear me? One more fucking word Y/N, I dare you!" Tommy's voice loudly ordered with a shuddering tone of control as his eyes narrowed in on the road in front of him. His leather gloves snapping with a crisp creak under his curling fingers as they tightly grasped around the steering wheel. Tethering on the idea of stopping the car to an abrupt halt and dealing with you by hand.
Wiping the tears from your eyes, your trembling bottom lip steadied itself from any further statements you'd be a fool to make as the toying melody lulled your weeping body back into hopelessness. Your eyes drifting to the narrow rays of the sun fading with each passing minute.
Hovering your fingers over the dusting of light, you began to quietly mouth the tormenting lyrics of the song Tommy had chosen to accompany your long drive into the unknown as you let your body sink into itself.
Feeling a strangled cry build in your throat, one last frustrated thrash of your elbow against the side of the car boot had a flash of light searing into the darkness, causing your head to turn from the glaring brightness of the outside world now beaming into your enclosure.
" Shit, shit..." your head turned in a panic to see the back headlight gone, your pent-up hopelessness now your saviour.
Whipping your head back to the sound of your husband's toying lips whistling in tune to the song, your heart pounded rapidly against your chest as you waited for him to acknowledge his taillight skimming across the road. But when no reaction came, you tempted fate and slipped your arm through the open gap, frantically waving your hand in hopes somebody would see.
Hearing the rumbling sound of a car approaching, you pushed your arm further through the shards of glass as you desperately tried to alert its drivers' attention.
" No, no, no..." you cried, pulling away to see the car disappear into the fading sun, hurtling all despair back to you in a strangled muffle of cries.
Readying yourself for the burning sting once again, you pushed your bloody hand back into the sharp teeth of your only escape, forcing it through until your shoulder met the door of your prison one last time.
And that's when you felt it. The lock that had kept you captive for countless hours in the dark.
In for a penny, in for a..., your teeth bit down onto your wobbling bottom lip, dried with a layer of blood from the dripping gash on your forehead.
Steadying your heavy breaths from backing out, you pushed your thumb down onto the chrome button, committing to your escape and the horrors you would face if your husband caught you.
With a subtle click, the door effortlessly popped open as you pulled yourself up with shaky hands, throwing the weight of your body out onto the road without care to any car approaching or injury you'd likely sustain as Tommy's foot slammed on the breaks to a screeching halt.
" Now just where do you think you're going..." Tommy's eyes narrowed, the rolled cylinder of tobacco resting between his plump lips puffing a cloud of smoke with each quiet breathy observation as he flicked the wing mirror with his finger to see the reflection of you scrambling to your feet.
" Help! Somebody!" You screamed in horror as you ran barefoot along the gritted ground. Only a thin slip covering your modesty, Tommy hadn't given you a chance to conceal with his unexpected appearance that morning.
"Shit" Tommy huffed throwing the door open, discarding the burnt cigarette from his mouth as he bolted after your sprinting feet.
" C'mon darling, don't make a scene!" you heard his gravelly voice call after you as you dared to look back to see him chasing towards you with a malicious smile of amusement toying on the corners of his lips.
With no sign of life but the two of you on the long winding road, you took your chances in the bushy hedgerow, heading down the dangerous coastal path with screams of terror as Tommy stayed hot on your heels behind you.
But your frantic escape and pleas for help would go unheard among the thrashing sound of waves, leaving only the echos of the melody coming from Tommy's abandoned car in the middle of the lone country road, and the ticking of its blinkers counting the moments down until he caught you.
"Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you anymore. To waste our lives would be a sin..."
One month earlier...
"Shit, I'm sorry. I don't..I don't have any change" your cheeks reddened with embarrassment as your fingers fumbled with the small, empty purse. Not a single shilling nestled within its velvety padding. Not a single penny to your name.
"My husband wi..." you stopped yourself, feeling a fool to have even referred to him as such, that you were going to rely on him to settle your fare, knowing full well he'd find enjoyment paying on your behalf with the proceedings set to take place in a moment's time.
" S'alright, Mrs Shelby. On the house" the taxi driver nodded to you in the rear mirror with a bushy bearded smile. For he was not foolish enough to follow in suit with your slipping tongue and make the wife of the leader of the Peaky Blinders pay a sum so trivial it could see him costing a finger his profession deemed vital.
" Thank you, Jeffery. But after today I'll no longer be, Mrs Shelby" you stated, opening the car door to a gust of autumn air nipping at your cheeks, your heels stepping onto the cobbled street, that paved your way to the grand building where a judge would decide on your future.
Strutting into the towering structure, you held your head high as your heels loudly echoed along the marble floors. But as you pushed through the heavy court doors, your mustered confidence took a sudden blow when the room turned to face you and the man that would reside over your divorce proceedings, scolded you like a child in front of a class of their peers.
" You're late, Mrs Shelby" he looked past the rims of his glasses as your pace slowed in a desperate attempt to muffle your poor choice of shoes and the unwarranted attention it garnered.
"I'm sorry your honor" you apologised, shamed in front of everyone as you hurried past the set of blue eyes following your every step. His piercing stare roaming over your body from head to toe, to every curve your fitted dress accentuated. His head leaning into your musky perfume filled with notes of amber and vanilla that drifted past him in a gentle greeting as you took your seat next to your solicitor. The intoxicating smell enough to cause a breathy exhale of repressed want from his throat. Tommy.
Feeling the intent stare of your husband boring into your heated cheek, you whipped your head up from the documents between your painted nails to see Tommy leant back in his chair, admiring your choice of outfit from between the men of law that separated you. Why did he have to look at you that way? He was doing it on fucking purpose.
Snapping your eyes away, a screeching sound of a chair scraped along the floor, followed by the heavy footsteps of your husband approaching.
" Darling" he greeted, taking the opportunity to approach you and the tray of refreshments stood feet from your desk as the fumbling Judge lay out your weighty file in front of him with the help of his assistant.
"Tommy" you replied, eyes fixed on the documents in front of you, trying your upmost to shield yourself from the pull of his daily dose of sweet-talking.
Scoffing a chuckle, Tommy raised the glass tumbler of water to his grinning lips. Amused by the cold shoulder you were adamant on giving him.
"Quite the entrance. Was that little show all for me..." You suddenly felt the heat of his body next to you, his distinct cologne of tobacco intertwined with whiskey and soot filling your senses. "...eh?" he perched himself on the edge of your desk as he leant into your ear, his fiery breath sending a ripple of goosebumps down your neck as the beginnings of a cocky smile curled against your skin.
" No" you firmly stated, feeling the remaining surges of embarrassment making laps in your stomach as you raised your eyes to see the smug smirk of enjoyment plastered across his face. Did you do it for him? Were you still seeking his attention, his approval after all this time, after everything that had happened?
" You sure, sweetheart?" his brows knitted together, mischief twinkling in the corners of his creased eyes as his hand reached under the table, roaming under your dress until his fingers met the clasps of your garter and unclipped one.
"Hmm, such a tease" he chuckled to himself, feeling the sting of your hand slapping his fingers away. Toying with your emotions and the agreed boundaries he was unwilling to follow once again.
Whether it be to purposely play with you or sheer refusal to admit he was the one that had pushed you to this point. Tommy didn't care. For your husband would never abide by anyone, let alone follow life's rules that weren't from the beat of his own drum.
" Be seated everyone" the Judge ordered, bringing your racing heart down to a manageable speed as Tommy scooted off the wooden table onto two feet, adjusting his suit before reluctantly playing along to the six-month temper tantrum he believed you was having.
As the dreary morning of papers being sent back and forth between lawyers, of decisions over the custody of your shared child continued. Tommy made it his sole mission to find an issue with every suggestion raised. Addressing only you throughout the entire ordeal as his generously paid lawyer, buried his head in his hands with frustration.
" Mr Shelby" the Judge's voice rose above Tommy's interruptions as he wiped the bead of sweat that had settled on his temple. A huff of defeat in response to the insult that he, a man of his position, couldn't keep his courtroom and its sole troublemaker under control.
" Two Sundays out of the month, Y/N? I won't allow it, understood? Sunday is family time and we'll spend it together, whether you like it or not" Tommy rolled his shoulders, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket as the Judge desperately tried to bring order to the room.
"Why don't we go back home and end this fucking circus, eh? I'll make love to you, we'll take Elsie out for an afternoon with the horses..." Tommy trailed off into a tangent of things he'd rather be doing than sitting in the stuffy room he was currently forced to be in with a wigged man telling him what he could and couldn't do with his family.
"Mr Shelby, I beseech you" the Judge removed his glasses, peering at your husband's lawyer to keep control of his client.
" You really want to do this, eh? To our daughter? Y/N? Y/N?!" the last of Tommy's patience quickly evaporated as you snapped your head away from his bellowing voice to the window beside you, tears spilling over your cheeks.
" Mr Shelby!" The magistrate slammed his hammer down onto its wooden pillow as an exasperated sigh at the tiresome morning loudly left his throat.
Ignoring the resonating boom of the wooden hammer, Tommy rested his arm on the back of his lawyer's chair as he leaned in. Whispering his orders into his ear as his scorching stare stayed fixed on you.
Daring to challenge the piercing pair of eyes burning into you, you raised your head as your husband's lawyer approached the bench with his orders.
Gaze drifting up from his clenched fists, you were met with nothing but anger. Anger at your refusal to bring an end to the whole charade, for your unwillingness to let him back into your martial bed over a paddy he believed would fizzle out within a week's time. How had things gotten to this point? Or more precisely, what had your dear husband done to push you to this point?
" Proceedings are postponed until further notice" the Judge's damning words shocked you out of your husband's hold on your every thought as your eyes darted to your lawyer.
" All rise" the portly guard beside him announced as those present dispersed from the room, leaving you with darting eyes scanning the empty rows of chairs until they settled on Tommy, and the satisfied smirk he was maliciously sending your way.
"What did you do? Tommy! What did you do?!" you shouted, storming over to him as he rose from his seat. Unbothered by your fit of rage and the role he played in its sudden appearance.
"You're so angry all the time, darling" he replied, dismissing your questions as his hands snaked over your waist, playfully pouting down at your widening eyes as if the entire ordeal was nothing but a small spat between a married couple.
"You might wanna get that checked love, can't be good for you, now can it?" He continued to rile you up after getting his way as you pushed him off you, feeling fooled by your lawyers guarantee that not even your husband could bring a halt to court proceedings after the lengthy battle you had already fought to get this point.
Tears settling between your lashes, you shook your head in disbelief at another delay to your freedom as you ran from the courtroom and your husband calling your name.
" Y/N!" Tommy's voice bellowed into the chilly blue sky as he followed after your hurried steps down to the bustling main road of Birmingham's town center.
"Hey!" He grabbed hold of your hips, spinning you around to face him and the tears streaming down your reddened cheeks.
"Hey..." he hushed your cries as you clutched your arms around your body from the bitter breeze of winter slowly rolling in.
"Here" he pulled his black overcoat from his shoulders, wrapping it around your trembling body, you shrugged off the moment it's warmth enveloped you.
No matter what he did, you wouldn't let him in. Why wouldn't you fucking let him back in?!, Tommy thought to himself, throwing his coat on the hood of his car. Oblivious or rather, ignorant to how he had toyed with you moments earlier.
" Why are you doing this, Tommy? We agreed to this. You agreed to this!" a sigh of defeat had your head turning in frustration to the cobbled ground below you. A stream of tears following in tow.
"Forced my hand more like" his huffy response snapped back as he fished in his suit jacket for a cigarette.
Eyes cast down, Tommy's stare darted between your tear-ridden cheeks and the morning dash of men and women hurrying to their places of work as you both stood in silence.
"Hey, look at me" he cupped your chin, turning your head to face him as he shuffled from foot to foot with a breathy exhale. "We'll deal with this in private, alright?" his brows raised, only to be welcomed with your rolling eyes of skepticism on what the word private actually meant to your husband whose idea of a fair deal was only if he was the one making all the deciding factors.
"Y/N?" he waited on your answer, softly brushing a lock of hair from your cheek when his eyes caught the sight of a police car sat guzzling gas on the opposite side of the road, and the prick inside he'd learnt had been hounding you for months on the whereabouts of his colleague.
Jaw tightening, Tommy watched as the detective gave a two-finger salute before turning the wheels of his car into the road and driving off with a pleased smirk. A clear provocation to rile up the notorious gangster on a day he knew Tommy's reputable temper could see him snap given the right push, in the right direction.
" Y/N?" his attention flew back to you as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. " I don't want this" he held your gaze as the end of his cigarette sizzled inches from your cold cheeks.
" I love you" his stare intensified as he wet his lips, his hands reinforcing his words with a stern shake to your face. " I can't lose you. If you want me to change...fuck, I'll change, alright?"
" For god's sake Tommy, that's not...not what I want from you" You felt a surge of disappointment plummet to the bottom of your stomach at the empty promises you had heard countless times before. Hoping that for once, just once, he'd say something that could reassure you enough to put a stop to the yearning you had to reconcile without a shit load of regret following shortly after it.
"I was just keeping you safe, darling" his hands dropped to your arms, tenderly rubbing them within his palms.
" Is that what you want me to do? Pull back my men? Is that what this is all about, eh?" He continued with his refusal to acknowledge the lengths he'd gone to keep control over every waking moment of your day.
" You've given up on us, haven't you?" Tommy huffed at your silence and the reaction it had on his grating need to have your undivided attention at all times.
"Just know this is all on you, eh? Our daughters' parent's separated because of you. Great fucking example you're showing her, darling. Well done" Tommy shook his head, viscously switching his mood back to his bitter brooding over your lack of response, and the expected answer you were unwilling to give.
Your silence being enough to make clear where you stood on the matter, you turned to leave as his hurtful words settled in your chest. Burrowing down to your heart, to the pang of guilt you felt for the stress you was putting your six-year-old daughter through.
"Where are you going?" He stopped you from taking another step as he grabbed hold of your arm.
" Into town" you attempted to shrug off his grip as you watched the barrage of questions form behind his eyes.
" You need some money?" He slipped his burning cigarette between his lips as he pulled out a bundle of cash, flicking through the notes.
" No" you huffed, folding your arms away from him as a wave of embarrassment that you didn't have the money for a taxi fare, let alone a trip into town without your husband giving you your weekly pocket money, scorched you with humiliation.
" Why not?" Tommy's brow furrowed as he threw his cigarette to the ground. " Y/N, why not?" His question turned into an urgent demand to know what had you needing to walk into the city for something he could get one of his men to fetch for you.
Fuck sake, you sighed to yourself, feeling the familiar tone of interrogation seeping though his questions. You just wanted space, space away from the house you still found yourself sharing with him, from the constant reminder of happy memories spent together, from him, from him and his fucking need to know your whereabouts every hour of every second of the day.
"You have someone else paying for this outing into town, is that why you don't need my money, eh? Tommy's paranoia started to turn it's ugly head into an onslaught of never-ending questions.
"Going on another fucking date, hm? Like you did with that pig" his grip tightened, releasing his pent-up anger out on your reddening arms as he glared at you with eyes burning with enough fury to heat your face.
" It's was a friendly dinner..." You sighed with frustration at his inability to stop himself before he pushed you further away with words intended to hurt.
" You meeting someone, Y/N? You fucking somebody, eh?" His voice rose, letting go of the little self-restraint he still possessed as he abruptly pulled you into his body.
" Why you doing this to me, hm?" His voice suddenly softened into desperate pleas anyone would think was an end to his anger. But his tight hold on your body as his cheek pressed against yours, the sound of his gritted teeth grinding together against your ear, enough to tell you otherwise that his fury was seconds away from bubbling over.
" Tommy stop...enough!" You managed to push him away as you turned to leave, refusing to withstand another second of the man that had replaced your once doting husband.
" You won't get rid of me that easily, darling! I won't let it happen!" His voice bellowed into the soot filled air, garnering the attention of those within ear shot. "You marry a Shelby, you stay married! You hear me?! You stay, fucking married!"
" Fuck!" His hands slammed against the door of his car as his lawyer nervously approached, announcing his presence with the clearing of his throat.
" What?!" Tommy's head snapped back to the fumbling man with a file of papers requiring his attention.
" See that those get lost" Tommy's demeanor quickly simmered, keeping the only document that held any interest before piling the rest into the arms of his lawyer.
Sinking into the driver's seat, his true intentions, written in the words of his solicitor, found their way into the glove box as one of his men slid into the passenger's side.
" What's the plan boss?'" the peaked soldier questioned, his voice drowning out into a distant muffle of unintelligible words as Tommy's eyes followed you walking along the cobbled path. His fingers hovering over the ignition, ready to leave when you turned back to look at him with locks of hair dancing in front of your eyes, cheeks rosy red from the chill that had settled over the foggy city. The sight twisting an unbearable urge within him to have you walk back to him, to have you back in his arms.
Were you coming back to him?, Tommy waited, a breath of anticipation catching in his throat as you stood from afar before the ends of your dress turned with a gust of wind, pushing you around the corner out of sight.
" Boss?" The peaky asked, waiting for his orders as his hand rested on the handle of the door.
" Follow her"
" Fuck..." you stifled the steady flow of tears trickling down your cheeks as you darted into a narrow bricked path behind a row of shops. A face as famous as yours was, and would always be a topic of conversation, even more so with a set of tears covering it.
How had it come to this? Was it after the birth of your daughter? No, no, before then? When you was dating?", you plagued yourself with the same frequency of questions your husband tired you with.
No matter how many questions your weary thoughts tormented you with, the truth was, you couldn't pinpoint when your marriage fell apart. It had happened slowly, small changes gone unnoticed. And then, in true Tommy fashion, accelerated to a point where the ignored had become glaringly obvious.
Yet still, wrenching pangs of yearning had you feeling like you couldn't live without him as long sleepless nights dragged on. The heat of his body absent from under the sheets of your martial bed. He was all you had ever known. And he knew it. He knew it.
"You'll pay privy to his crimes when I finally get him, Mrs Shelby. You and your daughter" a voice snatched you from the beckoning memories of your husband's arm wrapped tightly around your waist.
" Leave me alone" your eyes snapped up as you blinked your tears away, pulling yourself from the detective that had tracked you down for a second time that week.
" You're making a mistake" he caught your arm, forcing you to face his insistent inquiries into your husband.
"For the last time, I don't know anything. Now let me go" you echoed the countless responses you had already given.
One dinner had landed you not only at the brunt end of Tommy's raging anger, that you had dared to entertain someone of the opposite sex that was neither blood nor bound to you by marriage, but the watchful eye of your date's colleague, adamant on finding what he believed would be his partner's dead body, murdered at the hands of your husband after a fit of jealousy.
" I can offer you protection, away from him. All you have to do..." He slipped his details into your hand before you abruptly put an end to his concerns for your safety.
" I said, leave me alone" you pulled his hand off you, tired of being man-handled, of being expected to appease every living fucking creature of the opposite sex.
"You'll be next, Mrs Shelby. Mark my words!" He shouted to you as you drifted back into the bustling streets, his words leaving a harrowing sense of dread tightening around your throat as you shoved his card within the warmth of your pocket.
" Tommy doesn't share his toys!" The last of his warnings rang back to you as you leaned against a lonely lamp post, steadying the weight of your body against its metal frame when the world you were trying to flee from appeared in the corner of your eyes in the form of a peaked cap soldier watching from afar.
In sickness and in health, until death do us part. Would you ever be free from the binding love that had chained you together? Or would fate echo the words of your shared vows spoken on your wedding day?
Next Part
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ILLICIT AFFAIRS.
Pairing: Jim x Fem!Reader.
Song: Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift.
Word Count: 8.3k.
Summary: You were friends with Jim but slowly you began to have a crush on him which became more than you could bear as he was already married but that didn’t stop the both of you.
please ignore the cliche plot the smut makes up for it, I swear. :')
+ WARNINGS: smut (18+!) angst, Jim being soft, fingering, p in v, no protection, praise kink, adultery, cursing.
~~
You messed up.
That’s it. You messed up.
You allowed yourself to be carried away and swept up within the moment that wasn’t even supposed to happen. if it weren’t for the way he was gazing at you with his piercing yet mesmerizing pale blue hues or maybe the way he grazed you with his finger tips that sent small sparks throughout your body then maybe just maybe you wouldn’t have ended up bare in the sheets with the man who was already married..
Married to another woman..
The worst part out of all of this, is that you knew he was married. The fact that you knew and you allowed it to happen. You have every right to feel revolted with yourself right now. If the universe or god or any great entity that controlled this vast universe it definitely knows how much you loathe yourself right now. You needed to slow down and think about how this even happened.
You lived in a Suburban neighborhood– in Dublin, east coast of Ireland. A single mother with a beautiful nine year old daughter named Mary, a journalist for your own advice column and a part time Pilates trainer at a studio that your sister owned. As far as you knew, your life was normal. Between spending time with your daughter and your jobs, your schedule flowed perfectly together. You would be able to drop Mary off in the morning for school, teach class later on in the morning and you would be able to go home during the day to work on your advice column before picking Mary up from school, then the cycle repeats unless otherwise.
You’ve always been on your own. Having a daughter and two jobs, your love life was a punchline of a lame joke. In case you are wondering about Mary’s father, that’s a whole other story of its own, let’s just say he was completely out of the picture.
You would be lying if you told someone that it didn’t feel lonely sometimes. It was lonely, it was incredibly lonely; of course you’ve made multiple attempts to at least go out on a few dates and have a nightstand if you were lucky enough but most of the time those don’t even work out.
And It’s not because you weren’t attractive, no it was quite the opposite. In fact, you were quite beautiful– which was ironic for you because when you were younger your father called you the ugly duckling between you and your sister but then you prospered into a beautiful swan as you grew older. Like any normal person you still have your insecurities (no thanks to dad) yet overall you felt secure with yourself.
Clearly, your beauty wasn't the reason why your love life was shriveling away like a dried up raisin. It was the fact that you were picky, and you knew your heart wouldn’t always be completely in it. You weren’t that kind of person to simply have one night stands– but you admire those who do without forming any kind of connection that wasn’t only based on physical attraction.
You’ve tried and even though it felt good to have that void in your chest to be filled in that moment, the lingering feeling of desolation and melancholy always crawls its way back in. It wasn’t good for your mental health and it wasn’t good for your daughter. So you were only left with your jobs and your delusions of a love life to suddenly appear. But you knew deep down that Mary deserved a good father figure while she’s still young and you shouldn’t put so much hope into your fantasies.
Mary was a sweet girl, too sweet for her own good– she has a beautiful mix of your features and her father’s. The features that she shared from her father never bothered you either as you knew it wasn’t her fault that she was placed here on this earth because you didn’t wrap it until you tapped it. Of course, you and Mary’s relationship wasn’t always perfect but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You love her regardless– with all of your heart. Mary was the ray of sunshine you had in your life and you were more than happy to be her mother.
Knowing how kindhearted and smart your daughter was, she had many friends in her school. Even during teacher and parent conferences you’ve always been told many times how she loved helping the other kids, and the only times she would get in trouble was due to how talkative she was and you didn’t think it was a problem either.
And that’s how you met him.
It was a gray and cloudy weekday, as you got off the phone with Mary’s teacher claiming that it was after school and Mary was waiting for you. Accidently getting caught up with your advice catalog time went by over your head without even realizing and now your child is sitting in the school alone and you knew she was going to be a little..not little definitely upset with you.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Curses and all other kinds of profanities spilled from your lips as you frantically slipped on your mini cotton black trench coat. Your foot practically kicked down your front door before running like a trackstar to your car. Fortunately you didn’t live too far from the school and, without getting caught speeding past red lights, you managed to arrive at school where your daughter was currently waiting at.
Your hasty footsteps echoed throughout the hallways of the school as you moved through with only one destination in mind, which was your child’s classroom. Once you were close to the classroom where Mary was, you halted in your footsteps as you watched Mary leave the classroom with two other kids, a boy and a girl and then a man. A man that you knew well wasn't Mary’s teacher so you assumed that it must be the other children’s father.
Furrowing your slightly together you couldn’t help but to feel a little confused but relieved that at least you weren’t the only parent that wasn’t perfect. But it also did make you feel a bit skeptical as it is why a random man would be with kids and your only daughter.
“Mary!” You called out to her, your tone airy yet smooth which caught the attention of your daughter and the man. Immediately, your mind stopped racing and your heart leaped from your chest as his entrancing stunning ocean eyes met yours. It was as if his eyes had some deep hidden meaning behind them, it almost made you feel a little intimidated– how tired yet pierce his eyes were. His figure was lean but the broadness of his chest also stood out, along with his dark but slightly graying tresses, his sharp jawline, high cheekbones, his plump yet light pink lips, and smooth yet freckled fair skin…
Pretty.. You thought.
But as quickly as you fell in a captivated daze you quickly pulled yourself out of it the same way, you knew well that you were attracted to this man but considering how he was here and with kids– you can assume he is married or hope he wasn’t a random stranger.
“Mom!” You hear Mary call out happily as she walks towards you. A wholehearted smile took over your lips as you lovingly gazed down at her, allowing your hand to gently caress her back pulling her to your side. Thank god that she wasn’t upset with you. “I am so sorry, babygirl, I lost track of time.” You said softly as you felt Mary raise her head up to look at you. “It’s okay, I was with them.” she responded looking over at the alluring man and his kids who were in fact walking in your direction.
With each step he took you could feel your heart pound in your chest as he was now approaching you, his hands stuffed in his dark blue puffy jacket along with his kids who followed behind him and soon had their own conversation with Mary.
The man only gave you an awkward half smile as his gaze never left your form, you can tell that he was definitely on the reserved side. “Hi, you’re their father?” You asked giving him a little smile in return, then you couldn’t help but to mentally slap yourself a little bit with the question as you noticed in fact the boy and girl that were talking to Mary did in fact look like him. You watched as the man blinked in confusion for a moment, being thrown off by your question– you could feel the conversation instantly dying before it even started.
A dry airy chuckle left your lips as you felt yourself cringe, “I-I’m sorry, stupid question– I was just..” before you could finish your sentence you heard a deep chuckle coming from him stopping you from rambling. “No, No it’s fine.” He says softly, shaking his head for a second with the same ghostly smile. “I get it, I would wonder the same thing if a random man would be standing with my kids too, it would be really weird..” he paused for a moment before continuing, “I-uh, I was also late picking up my kids so yeah..” He briefly elaborated as you felt yourself relax as another gentle relieved chuckle left your lips, watching him. His voice was smooth and sonorous, it sent unwavering shivers throughout your body. Just by looking at him– he had a lingering forlorn yet cryptic aura surrounding him and it was reeling you in like a moth to a light. You hoped you didn’t look too obvious.
“I totally get you, I was just caught up with work that I didn’t realize that time flew by, you know?” You smiled warmly and for a moment you thought you saw him falter.
“I’m Y/N.”
You watched as his little timid faint grin formed into a genuine smile. It was as if air was caught in your throat, your heart fluttered at the sight of his smile. You felt proud of yourself that you managed to make him smile.
“Jim..Nice to meet you.” He introduced himself politely as he extended his hand towards you which you did your best not to look eager to grab and shook his hand in a little handshake. You immediately caught the golden band on his finger indicating he was indeed vowed to someone else. You couldn’t help but not be able to suppress the disappointment that flooded through your body. He had a wife and kids.The forced mentality of ‘it is what it is’ came into mind. And the attraction you had for Jim will most likely be temporary.
Unfortunately, the kids manage to break the tension between you, asking if they can walk together. You and Jim didn’t mind as you all walked out of the school together. You managed to hold a longer conversation with him, taking the opportunity to get to know him better.
Jim was definitely a man with a few words, and was more listening to you than you listening to him but he still present with you in the conversation. You both share a mutual affection for your kids, and you both worked at home– it was nice to share similarities with someone, to you it always made you feel like you were understood better, and you hoped he felt the same way. Although it's not uncommon to understand another parent- but between you and Jim you both just want to get through the day.
Luckily, It wasn’t just you that genuinely enjoyed his company as he offered to exchange numbers before parting ways. As this began to possibly be the start of a beautiful friendship for you.
You knew you were going to see him again soon, maybe for the rest of the following week. And you were right, when you picked up Mary on time for the rest of the week you would sometimes see Jim walk out with his kids. You two would exchange waves and polite smiles then carry on. Despite exchanging numbers neither of you made the first move to send a text first. You felt a little disappointed but you knew that maybe it was for the best and you shouldn’t look for some sort of connection that wasn’t there in the first place, let alone a text.
Jim has a wife. That is that — you two are also just acquaintances, and your kids are friends. That is all. Yet, that didn’t stop your thoughts always trailing back to him– and you began to feel a little angry with yourself for it. Were you truly so lonely to be thinking about a man you only had spoken once?
What is wrong with you?
Get over this crush already.
This would go on until the end of the week on a Friday, just as you and your daughter got home from school, a gentle ding emitted from your pocket. Stepping into the house, closing the door behind you, you took out your phone. You didn’t get to see who texted you as you heard Mary’s loud footsteps run off to the kitchen leaving her jacket on the floor along with her book bag..
“Mom, I am going to have a cookie!” she said loudly before you could respond you already heard the cabinet shut. Shaking your head you released an exasperated sigh, “Mary, please pick up after yourself! And don’t eat all of them!” You responded raising your voice a little bit while locking the door behind you.
Another ding went off on your phone once more adding waves to your annoyance. Who was trying to contact you? A gentle frown painted over your lips as your hand reached into the buttpocket of your jeans to grab your phone to see that you got a message from an unknown number.
Hey, It’s the random man from school.
Kidding, it’s me Jim.
You felt your heart stop beating in your chest for a split moment as you vacantly stared down at the gray text bubbles that were on your little phone screen. You felt many waves of emotions crash down on you– denial, shock, guilt, and then excitement. Gradually a ghostly smile was painted on your lips replacing the gentle frown that was present a few moments ago, just when you began to accept that nothing was going to happen.
It was funnily convenient.
You didn’t gloss over the fact that he remembered your conversation when you guys first spoke to each other as you felt your heart skip a beat once more.
Had he been thinking about you as well?
You can still be wrong that maybe he just wanted to ask you something about school or your kids and that would still be fine. This was nothing, harmless– this wouldn’t escalate to anything more. Just keep it short and simple.
After a few minutes of typing and deleting your message multiple times to think how you should respond due to your mixed emotions of anxiety and excitement— you finally responded to him.
Hi, Jim! Lol. How are you?
You had no idea that after sending back that one message, you guys would be texting for the rest of that day.
** **
It is strange how someone can go from being a stranger to a good friend to someone you ended up falling for. You knew it was a bad idea the minute you laid your eyes on him and somehow like a black hole Jim effortlessly sucked you in. Ever since the first text he had sent you, you guys began to talk everyday; through texts, and eventually calls. It only has been a few weeks since you guys first met.
You even discovered that he only lived a few blocks away from you which resulted in a lot of Mary having playdates with his daughter. This became a normal thing, almost every Friday Mary would have these playdates. The first time when he was at your house it was a bit awkward since you were used to only talking to him over text or calls but with a cup of coffee you both relaxed and talked how you guys normally do in the dining room while the girls would be hanging out in Mary’s room.
It also didn’t help how being around his calming presence made you feel so comfortable, made you feel like you could tell him anything and he would just listen to you.
You often wondered if his wife knew about your friendship with him, or if she even knew about you at all. She probably does since her daughter occasionally hangs out with Mary almost every Friday, you knew you shouldn’t even be thinking about those kinds of things.
Everything felt good, way too good. And with your luck you knew when things feel way too good, that means things were going to take a painful turn.
Sitting criss cross on your living room couch alone in the house on a Tuesday afternoon, you were on the phone with Jim. As usual with a dumb happy grin on your face you guys talked and it ended up with him assisting you with your advice column on your laptop.
“A twenty year old girl in college got heartbroken by her boyfriend she dated since childhood because he cheated on her and she wants to go back and talk to him but she knows it’s wrong. What should she do?” You asked as the grin never wavered from your lips.
“Maybe go to more parties and get wasted and she’ll find another guy by the end of the second semester?” You jokingly snickered as you leaned back against the couch, your muscles easing into the cushions. Hearing Jim’s light chuckle on the other line of the phone.
“God no. What kind of fucking advice is that?” Jim asked playfully, still chuckling softly, you could feel your heart flutter at the sound that came from him.
“Okay, Okay, fine– I am not going to say that. But she is only twenty and she has so many other things to worry about other than a boy. Like her possible career and her friends and her future! And she should try and focus on that instead.” You exclaimed.
“That is much better. Way better than the last answer.” Jim responded, causing you to laugh softly, shaking your head slightly as your gaze stared down at your laptop, your fingers gently pressing on the letters on your keyboard, typing up your answer.
“Alright done, give this a listen.”
“Shoot.”
You cleared your throat a little bit as you began to read. “You lost someone important to you, and how you feel is completely valid. But you have to feel your feelings out, and try to focus on what’s really important. Such as yourself, your career, and future– going back to him won’t change what happened. Remember that you have friends and family to support you. And that you’re not alone in this. All you can do is try to take care of yourself.”
Jim was silent, as you finished reading which caused you to fiddle in your seat a little.
“Thoughts?” You asked wondering what he was thinking.
“That was good, pretty good.” He responded nonchalantly, almost being blunt which caused you to worry a little bit, your grin faltering slightly.
“Is that all? Should I add more? It sounds like you don’t like it.” You asked reluctantly.
Jim was quick to encounter your statement. “No,no,no! I do. I really do like it. It’s really sweet of you, It’s lovely, you’re lovely.”
You could feel the blood rushing up into your cheeks, turning into a harsh crimson hue. Who knew a simple compliment could make you feel so smitten? Silence hovered over the two of you for a moment until Jim was the first one to break it.
“Y/N?” He called out to you softly pulling you out from your daze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go silent on you.” You chuckled nervously. It was just his last comment.
“No it’s fine..” He paused for a moment. “I don’t know what has come over me.” Jim said softly back to his timid tone. This only made your heart race once more as you sighed softly.
“I appreciate it, thank you for being my assistant.” You did your best to save this conversation from turning tense. And it felt like it didn’t make the slightest difference.
“I mean it, you know?”
You paused once more the burning sensation in your cheeks didn’t change. Now intently listening to him as you can hear him about to say more.
“You really are lovely, Y/N..I mean it.”
There it was…That tension again, the suffocating tension that made you feel like you were drowning. And within that moment, like a wave crashing and meeting the ocean shore, you knew that you were falling hard for him, wiping the grin that was on your lips away.
Then the golden band on his finger flashed in your mind.
No, you can’t do this.
“Jim, what do you mean by that?” You asked him hesitantly yet firmly as you removed your laptop from your grasp before grabbing your phone, taking it off of the speaker and pressing it against your ear.
“What do you mean by what I mean?” He asked, sounding a bit taken back by your sudden question. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, I was just…I don’t know how to explain it but that felt like more than a compliment.” You stated as you paused once more, were you overthinking this? You were about to open your mouth to cut the silence but then Jim interrupted you.
“Because it was more than a compliment.”
In that moment, It was as if something took over your body and possessed you, this confession spilled from your lips like vomit.
“Jim, I think I am falling for you.” You breathed out.
Then a tense silence completely consumed the both of you.
Oh fuck, did I really say that!? You mentally wanted to slam your face against the table. Fuck, you had to fix this quick. No, there was no way of fixing this now, you fucking blew it.
“Jim, I'm sorry. You’re married and I shouldn’t have said that. Fuck, I am an idiot, I am so so sorry.” You began to ramble, not letting Jim be able to interrupt you. “Y/N wait, wait-” but you weren’t listening as your thumb slammed on the red at the bottom of your screen ending the call.
This was a long awaited painful turn that you’ve brought on yourself. Now all that was left was you and your panicked and raging thoughts. You clearly took it too far, getting caught up in the moment that it left you feeling like an idiot.
** **
It was your day off today from the Pilates studio and you didn’t have to do much for your advice column. So for the rest of that morning you took the time to clean up the house. Mary was in school so it was just you alone at home– singing softly to yourself as you were finishing up with doing laundry. Neatly folding what was last of the laundry in your basket, feeling the warmth of the fresh cotton fabric between your fingers before placing it with the other piles of clothes on your bed.
It has been two days since your confession with Jim. You did what was best for you, and you began ignoring his texts and dodged his calls. This was morally wrong and you didn’t want to embarrass yourself even more.
“And you know damn well..For you, I would ruin myself, A million little times..”
You sang softly as the tender melody came to an end on your phone dying down, you would glance at your phone a few times that was sitting on your nightstand, in hopes you would catch your phone displaying Jim’s name across the screen but to your disappointment it didn’t, why would it? So you can ignore it more or have a war with yourself whether you should drop the silent treatment or not? No. At this point you would understand why he would give up.
A gentle sigh leaving your lips as your mind begins to aimlessly wander about your conflicted feelings. You want to believe that it would remain as a friendship but you knew damn well that slowly this entire time it turned more than a friendship to you. Feelings were completely one sided, he was married and he was only being kind to you because both of your daughters are friends. You were scared that harboring these feelings would become so heavy that eventually it’ll crush you and it did. You were playing with fire and you got burned.
Just as the next song on your phone began to play, a loud knock on your front door echoed throughout the house shaking you out of your thoughts. Feeling your brows knit together you walked out of your room heading towards the front door.
Who could that be?
You wondered as your hand gently grasped the doorknob pulling it open to reveal Jim gazing at you with a bit of desperate yet defeated expression with his phone in hand.
It was like you were faced with a jumpscare as you felt your eyes widen and without thinking you tried to close the door on Jim but he was too quick as he managed to slip his shoe between the door leaving it ajar. “Y-Y/N, please can we talk? Please just for a second.” He said in a deep raspy tone. His voice crack manages to burn itself into your mind.
You stood still for a moment before opening the door more widely for him to step into your house, now alone just between you and the married man you had fallen for. You took a few steps back away from him with your arms folded over your chest, your gaze not leaving his form. Once he was inside the house he closed the door behind him– “You didn’t think of picking up your phone when I called you? Or my texts?” He asked, sounding a bit tired as his piercing yet stunning ripples of ocean blue gaze bore into yours, spawning goosebumps on your skin.
“How could I after that? So I can embarrass myself some more?” You asked with sarcasm evidently dripping from your tone as you watched Jim roll his eyes a little at your remark. “I am serious, Y/N.” He said, sounding a little more soft as he took a step towards you.
“So am I, Jim. You’re my friend, I was stupid, I shouldn’t have said what I said, you’re married and–” You weren’t sure how much your heart could take at this moment. It was hammering so hard that it felt like it was building something, along with the backflips your stomach was doing it was becoming agonizing.
You could feel his warmth from where you were standing as you broke away from his gaze as you turned your head away from him but only for Jim to gingerly cup your cheek turning your face back to look at him immediately putting an end to your rambles. “Hang on a second, hang on a second Y/N..” Jim said his tone was still soft, as he looked down at you his lips curled slightly down forming a frown his eyebrows knitted slightly together causing a little wrinkles to form between them. His touch was so warm you did your best not to melt into him.
“This is so fucking mortifying Jim, you shouldn’t even be here.” You could feel your throat go dry as your eyes became misty, placing your hand over his shoulder weakly attempting to push him away but he stayed still in his spot. “Listen to me, please.” You kept your gaze down refusing to meet his gaze.
“You’re not an idiot for telling me how you felt that day alright? Don’t think that I haven’t thought of you the same way. I have. If I didn't, I wouldn’t have told you that a compliment was meant to be more.” Jim exclaimed quietly a gentle airy dry chuckle leaving his lips as his thumb gently caressed your cheekbone. You only shook your head as you used your freehand to gently pull his hand away from your cheek and it only resulted in him intertwining your fingers together.
“You’re lying.You were just being polite.” You said your breathing became uneven, clenching your jaw slightly– you didn’t realize how you were shaking in his grasp. Jim only continued to keep you close and you couldn’t find yourself pulling away from him, your hand still in his.
This was happening, really happening.
“I-I, Why would I lie to you about that?” He asked in a genuine yearning tone. “Because you feel bad for me. I am a single mother alone here with no one to talk to of course you would.” You snapped suddenly feeling a little aggressive but Jim didn’t seem fazed by it.
“That isn’t true at all, Y/N. Not even close.” You can detect the hurt and how despondent he felt in his voice, the need to prove himself to you. You remained silent as you continued averting your gaze from his and he seemed to notice it as he called out to you once more.
“Look at me..”
You closed your eyes for a moment, keeping your chin faintly down completely avoiding his gaze, as you knew if you looked at him you would completely succumb to him.
“Y/N… Look at me.” He softly implored once more.
After a few moments, you sighed quietly and you finally complied, opening your eyes looking back up at him as he gazed down at you with a gentle expression. It was like he knew how fragile you felt in this moment. You watched at how his eyes flickered at your features to your eyes then back to your lips, causing your features to soften.
Both of you remained silent as he gently squeezed your hand before releasing your hand, attentively, he placed your palm against his chest. You can feel his heart beating rapidly against your palm, like his heart was trying to burst free from his chest cavity. “Feel that?” Jim breathed out as he gazed down at you, keeping your palm firmly against his chest. “My heart is beating out of my chest, Y/N.. Can you feel how fast it’s going?” He asked, a bit breathless with a faint smile.
You didn’t realize how close you two were as your faces were inches from each other, breath gently fanning against your lips–the tip of his nose gently grazing yours. “Yeah..” You only murmured now a little airy laugh slipped from your lips at how this felt like you were in a scene of a movie, but it wasn’t this was in fact real as your forehead lightly rested against his.
Jim wasn’t lying as you could literally feel how anxious he was in your palm. His heart beating against your hand, you knew you weren’t just feeling how nervous he was. You were feeling how much he cared about you.
How his heart was beating for you…
Feeling his dark tresses brush against your forehead, you released an inaudible shaky exhale. Your fingers curling up now grasping his shirt, his lips gently brushing against yours sending sparks throughout your being. This was all becoming too much, as it felt like Jim read your mind. “Fuck it..” He whispered as he closed the distance between you, eagerly capturing your lips with his as his fingers now rested on the side of your head keeping you still.
That’s right.. Fuck it.
You could feel your heated skin crawl by how powerful the emotion behind his kisses. His kisses fill you with nothing but thoughts of him, you didn’t hesitate to return his kisses matching his passion. He was invading your mind, body and soul– you desperately pulled him closer. Wanting him to take everything you have, wanting his thoughts to be filled with you too as your lips moved languidly together with fervor.
A gentle gasp left your lips as you felt his tongue swipe at your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth tasting you. A deep groan erupted from his mouth, god you loved his groans, he wanted you and he wanted to let you know that he did. The way his lips moved with yours, the sound of your breaths swallowing each other’s as your hands explored each other’s bodies leaving a firework like sensation through your clothed skin.
It left you ravenous for more.
“Jump..” Jim whispered against your lips, you immediately obeyed as you jumped, and instantly you felt his hands catch you. Your legs draped around his waist as his hands were under your thighs keeping you still now walking you to your room impressively without breaking the feverish kisses, tongues tangled, and hands squeezing and gripping each other.
Jim effortlessly shoved away your neatly folded laundry off the bed before gently placing you on the mattress. Everything seemed to fade into a beautiful blur as you felt your back melt into the mattress, his body hovering over yours, as nothing else seemed to matter anymore. What only mattered was you and Jim in this moment, exploring these intense emotions that you both held for each other. Keeping your legs around his torso, diminishing the space between you two, you felt his restrained erection from his jeans as he gently grinded his hips against yours causing a moan to escape from your small frame but only to be muffled by his soft lips that were against yours.
There was no stopping now, as you could feel the warm dampness pool in your underwear– your bodies molding together like colors on a canvas. Your hands slipped underneath his shirt feeling the movement of his back muscles moving beneath your touch. Jim then pulled away from the kiss now sitting up causing you to grunt quietly out of disapprovement wanting him to come back as he quickly discarded his ebony quarter sleeve top revealing his chest. With half lidded dazed eyes you watched as he gazed down at you with his sharp sunken ocean blue optics that were clouded with nothing but desire for you.
Both of you were breathing heavily, aching to taste each other’s lips once more. “May I?” He asked softly as his fingers gently fiddled with the hem of your shirt. You nodded your head giving him consent to remove your white oversized t-shirt. You knew you weren’t wearing a bra underneath your shirt. You were at home, so why would you wear one?
He swiftly removed your top, revealing your breasts– the cool air nipped at your heated skin feeling your nipples turn hard from the little breeze. In a pleasurable haze you continued to watch the way his lashes fluttered against his freckled cheeks as your heaving bosom was now exposed for him to take in. His gazed burned into your skin causing you to shiver once more, watching his lust filled eyes rake down from your exposed neck to your torso. You felt so bare in front of him, it was as if your skin was translucent and he could see right through you.
Reading your thoughts, your emotions, your heart– it made you flushed. That was another thing you adore about him, how blue his eyes were and how a simple glance from him can make you shiver. Jim then leaned back down over you but this time you felt his fingertips delicately trace your body feeling every contour of your skin, trailing his fingertips from your abdomen to the valley of your chest to your cheek, while he was using his other arm to hold himself over you so he wouldn’t crush you completely with his weight.
You sucked in a sharp inhale as you felt his face lean in towards you nuzzling his nose in the nape of your neck before pressing featherlike kisses on your neck. Your eyes fluttered to a close tilting your head more to the side giving him more access to your neck, your cheek resting against his palm. Jim didn’t hesitate to nibble and kiss as much of your skin as possible leaving you breathless.
You were aching so bad for him that it began to hurt. You could feel his lips at one spot before going to another and next thing you know he was everywhere, just worshiping you with his lips. His lips trailing down to your body, going from your neck, collarbone, then to your heaving breast. “You’re so beautiful..” Jim whispered as he kissed the center of your chest where your heartbeat was. His praise causes your pussy to clench at nothing but air.
“Jim..” You whimpered out softly as you needed him. “I got you, sweetheart. Just let me enjoy this.” He murmured as he then lowered his mouth to your breasts and glided his tongue across your nipple, earning a moan out of you as he covered your right breast with his mouth completely. While his other hand slipped past the waistband of your pajama shorts, into your underwear. You gasped softly at the cool sensation of his fingers feeling the slit of your wet folds. “You’re so wet, for me Y/N...” Jim chuckled quietly before moving his mouth to tend your other breast giving it the same attention.
Patience was treading on thin ice with you, and you knew Jim was teasing you. And you damn well knew that he wasn’t lying either. Your underwear was beyond saving considering how aroused you were, seriously you swore you felt your arousal drip between your inner thighs until you felt Jim’s middle finger flick against your throbbing nub between your legs causing your body to jolt with a moan spilling from your lips.
Jim took notice as he continued circling your clit with his finger feeling up your juices before slipping in his middle finger into your pussy with a gentle squelch noise. “Fuck Jim!” You whined softly in ecstasy feeling your head fall back deeper against the pillow your eyes still clamped shut as Jim pumped his finger in and out of you in a slow pace before building speed, his middle finger curling up inside of you hitting your g spot within your warm tight wet walls.
You felt Jim pull away from your breasts before pressing his lips back onto yours muffling your moans as his tongue slipped back into your mouth mingling with yours, he then added another finger stretching you out once more causing you to whimper against his lips, as he fucked you fast and hard with his fingers despite the little room he had in your shorts and underwear.
Clearly he was preparing you and this was the only start of what was going to happen. With so much pleasure you were desperate to hold onto something, as your hands found his shoulders gripping him for dear life, the knot in your tummy beginning growing tighter, your folds fluttering shut against his fingers.
God, you have forgotten how good it felt to be touched like this, to have someone’s undivided attention on you and your pleasure alone. As the only times you had sex they would either finish too fast and leave you unsatisfied or they would make you focus on them. Not Jim, he wanted to infiltrate your thoughts with his touch, his lips– everything he possibly could and you were letting him.
Jim then pulled his fingers out of you, quickly slipping off your shorts and underwear down to your ankles and you kicked them to the side before Jim reattached his coated fingertips to your clit. Swiping his fingers against your anching nub once more, he pulled away from your lips as you both breathed heavily in unison. You could feel your mind submerge into a euphoric haze feeling your climax creeping up on you. “You have no fucking idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this with you, sweetheart.” He whispered into your ear before nibbling your earlobe causing you to gasp softly. “M-Me too Jim..” You breathed out shuddering against his body feeling each rub from his finger sent more intense ripples of pleasure to your stomach.
Jim then sank his fingers back into you to the knuckle curling them immaculately against your g spot once more with precision. And just like that you felt the knot become undone in your stomach as immense waves of pleasure your orgasm ripped through you sending you over to the edge. Loud mewls escaped your lips as Jim stilled his fingers inside of you, feeling your throbbing walls clamp down on his fingers.
You both laid there breathless for a moment as Jim pressed gentle kisses around your face while you were coming down from your high. “You okay?” He asked you softly as he placed a gentle kiss on your neck pulling his fingers out from you causing you to whimper quietly from the loss of his fingers. Weakly, you nodded your head slowly catching your breath, “Jim, I want you..” you said in an airy tone as your hand reached down to his erection that was bulging from his jeans, your fingers tracing the outline evicting a sharp inhale from him.
Jim immediately obliged as he helped you pull down his pants along with his boxers allowing his cock sprung free from it’s restraints making him sigh out of relief. You couldn’t help to drool slightly at the sight of his length– how long and thick it was as it hung from his body. You weren’t sure if you wanted to taste him or have him inside of you- either way both of those thoughts were making you ache heavily with desire.
Jesus, his wife really did hit the jackpot with this man.
A shaky exhale left your lips as Jim gently caressed your cheek with his thumb before gently pushing you back against the mattress, his eyes fixated on you. He rose on his knees as you were now able to take in the sight of his exposed body– now his firm erection only a few inches away from your dripping entrance. “Open up your legs for me, darling.” He demanded softly with his large hands pushing your legs apart gently. His voice was deep and breathless that sent another wave of shivers throughout your body.
Fuck, these pet names he was calling you — were going to kill you.
Without hesitation you spread your thighs wider for him, now being completely bare and open to him. “Good girl..” Jim praised with a little smirk tugging on his lips, causing your heart to flutter.
You were holding in your breath as you watched his hips with one gentle fluid motion he thrusted into you making you cry out loudly, your walls stretching with an intense pressure slowly filling you up only halfway in. “Are you alright? Do you want to stop?” He asked with concern as he gazed down at you; his dark graying tresses disheveled, his large hands holding your thighs keeping you still. He was so kind, it was making you melt beneath him. “I-I’m okay, keep going.” You whispered as you began to grip his shoulders once more, your nails sinking into his skin .
“That’s my girl..” Jim praised once more as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. He was so hot, you never would even think Jim would have this side of him. He then shifted his knees before thrusting into you completely, his cock deeply sheathed into you. Your mouth fell open as a loud moan spilled from your lips, your eyes clamped shut once more– god, you felt so impossibly full. Jim completely invades you as your bodies are finally connected in the best way. Your thighs squeezed against his waist but he only pushed them apart tenderly. “Ah, F-Fuck..” He groaned out shakily, as he admired the way his cock completely vanished inside of you before closing his eyes allowing his head to fall forward slightly.
You opened your eyes as you breathed heavily, adjusting to his size– his moans making you clench around causing him to gasp. Your desire growing insatiably stronger, you rolled your hips against his desperately pulling a loud moan out of you as you felt the head of his penis kiss your cervix. A deep grunt left his lips as he leaned down towards you releasing your thighs– his chest now pressed against yours as both of his elbows were resting on either sides of your head.
Immediately he began thrusting into you with a slow moderate pace as your body moved up and down slightly with a string of moans spilling from your lips– pleasure completely consuming your body. Jim released a breath as he managed to grab both of your hands intertwining your fingers together pinning them next to your head as his hips slammed against yours.
You turned your head away as you whimpered loudly at how he continued hitting your cervix with perfect precision, “Y/N… Keep your eyes on me.” Jim demanded his voice dark and low. Your body shuddered as you obliged, turning your head to look at him to find him already gazing at you with half lidded eyes that were nothing but filled with affection and lust.
Both of your gazes burned into each other as his thrusts became more relentless, making you feel like you were on cloud nine of pleasure and ecstasy. Jim groaned as he felt your walls clamp around him tight not wanting to let him go– nevertheless he didn’t ease his hard and fast pace. All that was heard in your bedroom was the sound of wet bodies clashing together, as his cock brushed against your clit causing you to arch your back, your chest melting into his, your hands squeezing his. “S-Shit, you feel so good, Jim..” You mewled as your bodies continued moving together in sync.
The friction between you made you burn with desire. “You feel even better, Y-Y/N..Fuck..” He gasped out as his face scrunched up slightly at how tight you were, his mouth hanging slightly open as heavy breaths escaped his parted lips as he aimed to make you come first. You could feel yourself slipping, getting lost in Jim, truly no other thoughts that weren’t anything else but him.
You then wrapped your legs around his hips causing him to sink deeper into you making you both moan out loud in unison, the familiar coil in your stomach began to form knowing you were about to reach your climax for the second time as your heavy breathing began to become unsteady.
Jim then pressed his lips against yours in an eager open mouthed kiss, like he knew you were close and he continued plunging himself deeply into you as he was getting close to his own climax as well.
“I-I’m close..” You breathlessly stammered against his lips as his teeth sank down at your bottom lip before pulling away and releasing it. “Come for me, sweetheart.” Jim whispered as he watched you tremble against his body squeezing his hands tightly as your body was pressed deeper into the mattress. You then cried out as your body arched against him, you felt the knot in your stomach finally snap as your climax washed over you with the familiar waves of pleasure.
Frail moans left your lips as Jim quickened his pace as he used your limp body to chase his climax before releasing a loud groan, his hips stuttering slightly before being buried deep inside of you as he ejaculated his semen, staining your walls.
Jim stayed still for a second trying to catch his breath before slowly pulling out of you causing you to whimper softly as he collapsed on top of you, his head resting against your chest, both of your naked bodies lightly coated with sweat. Your head was spinning, your mind completely lost in a fog as you both basked in the afterglow of this moment.
Once your breathing became steady again as you slowly came down from your high you felt Jim roll off of you as he laid next to you leaving you still laying on your back as you two went silent.
Even the silence felt so loud.
He then pulled the comforters over your naked bodies as he laid on his side facing you. You could feel his gaze burn into the side of your face as you kept your eyes on the ceiling finally processing what just happened.
“Hey..” Jim called out to you quietly as he scooted closer to you draping his lightly freckled arm around your body pulling you close as you turned to face him on your side, you can tell that he hated when things go quiet like this.
Your little panic gaze burned into his, and he already knew how you were feeling. “Y/N..Talk to me.” Jim begged as he gently cradled your cheek with his palm which you instinctively melted into.
You sighed deeply into his touch, your mind unsure if having sex even fixed anything between you two, if anything it added more fuel to the fire of your problems.
And this is where you knew that you messed up..
Big time.
***
PART 2 COMING SOON ;)
I hope you guys enjoyed it ! First one shot for this page. And honestly this is the first smut I’ve ever written so I hope I did Jim Justice but bro was so romantic. I apologize for any grammar error or anything that looks weird- But anyways, thank you guys for reading! ♡
#cillian x fem!reader#cillian murphy#cillian one shot#cillian x y/n#cillian smut#cillian x reader#CILLIAN#johnathan crane#openheimer#batman begins#cillian murphy x reader#the delinquent season#jim x reader#Johnathan crane x reader#red eye#Jackson Rippner x Reader#female reader#cillian fic#y/n#tommy shelby#quietplace#red light#thomas shelby#watching detectives#cillian murphy fanfiction#cillian murphy x reader smut#delinquent season smut#y/n smut#fluffy smut#cillian murphy smut
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⇢ ˗ˏˋ cillian murphy x f!reader ࿐ྂ
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ A GIRL LIKE YOU : fluff ; age gap ; imagine
, , ,
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ CILLIAN MURPHY was loved by the whole world. everyone wanted to have a chance to just talk to him or more. on social media people made fan accounts about him, doing edits, gifs etc. but cillian used his phone only for calls, texts etc. so he was clueless about things that his fans were making about his characters or just him. murphy loved acting it makes him feel alive, but he didn’t like being super popular, it definitely confused him even if he is in this career almost all life.
because of this he wasn’t a fan of dating, of course he was once in marriage, and he has two sons, but it wasn’t it. he loved his ex-wife, but they weren’t meant for each other, and it was fine. he wasn’t in an unhappy or unhealthy relationship with his wife, their divorce wasn’t because of the fault of anybody. they just weren’t a match, but they are still good friends, maybe because of their children but also because cillian knew that he always could come to her when he needs help, and she could do the same.
but dating in his age wasn’t a good idea. he was forty-seven with two almost adult sons, and he was divorced. nobody wants a man like him to serious relationship, maybe some casual sexual acquaintances but nothing else. also all women he used to ‘date’ were aware about his career and almost always wanted to get him because of his fame. it was exhausting, and sometimes he wanted to be a normal guy without all of this popularity.
people saying that love is everywhere, but could it be in the small cafeteria? as you can see, cillian wasn’t a fan of showing himself in a place where you can meet a lot of people, so when it comes to drink a good coffee and eat a dessert he wouldn’t choose a starbucks but a small café on the outskirts. it was a quaint place, established by a young woman in her late twenties. cafeteria doesn’t even have the google site, maybe that was a reason why the only customer there was an old lady who comes there everyday just to have someone to talk to.
so when cillian enter the café the owner was in shock but smiled at him wondering if he would stay in there more than a few minutes. well, she was aware that her shop wasn’t popular at all, but she didn’t care. this place has been always her dream and she made it come true. she was happy that this old lady named ophelia was her regular customer because she had someone to talk during the shift.
“hello, are you ready to order?” the woman asked with a smile on her face. at this moment, in the background, ‘have you ever loved someone’ by the vocaleers starts playing.
“one americano please” cillian smiled at her as she nodded.
“do you want brownie with this coffee? i just made some, it still hot”
“sure, why not” he said, and she just smiled happily at him, thanking him for an order. cillian sat at the corner and looked at her. she was doing his coffee quietly singing words of song and do a little dance to this. he couldn’t understand how she could be so positive when her business weren’t the most successful, but there she was enjoying her job.
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cillian started to come to this café every day, maybe for this delicious desserts or maybe for this kind owner. let’s be honest, he came for both. murphy cannot understand how he found a person who was just like him. she didn’t use social media and wasn’t a big fan of movies where she could see cillian, so she didn’t know that he was a famous actor. she treated him just like an average person, and he was grateful for that.
it felt good when you weren’t treating like an animal in zoo but like a human. she makes him feel better about himself. and her new hobby was showing cillian the world that she knows and loves. maybe she wasn’t the person with an eventful life, she wasn’t a celebrity who was doing interviews every day. but that makes her special in his eyes.
with her positivity she made his days better, he missed days of doing nothing but talking about world, dreams or other stuff that his exes didn’t like talking about. she was a perfect woman in his eyes.
maybe he wasn’t that old to dating again?
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⇢ ˗ˏˋ thank you for attention! and im sorry for any mistakes.
#cillian murphy#oppenheimer#barbenheimer#cillian x fem!reader#cillian murphy imagine#fluff#cillian murphy x reader#x female reader#cillian murphy x y/n#oppenbarbie#oppenheimer 2023#oppenheimer movie
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an ironic, bitter joke
Pairing: Jonathan Crane x [gender-neutral] Reader Summary: you're a forensic doctor who works for GCPD, and there seemed to me remains of the fear gas in the crime scene. after such a day, your boyfriend is waiting for you at home to comfort you. Tags: comfort / there's no major description of the dead body / no major description of fear or panic attack
Requested by @sw33tsuccubus ["i know you’re busy a lot dear but hear me out. jonathan crane (i’m on a bit of a kick lately) fic. maybe he’s in a relationship with a forensic scientist who ends up going to one of scarecrow’s crime sites. (...)"]
MASTER LIST
“The results of the last toxicology test seem a bit tricky. Maybe you could double-check?” Nygma raised his eyebrows lightly at you, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his forearm as he walked over to the sink and washed his hands.
You looked down at the papers before you, playing with the pens in your lab coat’s pocket. They wouldn’t be done or needed anytime soon, whether you wanted it or not, so you could busy yourself with something else in the meantime. Just as you were about to get up, the lab door opened, and one of the officers stood there.
“We need you two on the crime scene,” the officer said, looking down at the clipboard they had in hand, flipping one of the papers. “The van is leaving in a few minutes.”
You clicked your tongue. More work, more deaths. “Who?”
“Another one of those cases, fear stuff,” they said, turning the pages a few more times before placing the clipboard on the counter, and you shared a look with Nygma. “We have some people there already. Fresh scene. You’ll catch the body warm if you’re fast enough.” They looked at the two of you.
“On it.” You promptly stood up, receiving an assertive nod from the officer before they left, cursing the police under your breath. They weren’t only harsh when dealing with criminals and society but also with the other areas within the GCPD, like forensics, for example. As much as you, Nygma, and the others hated it, you weren’t quite a fan of being hungry and in debt, and there weren’t that many job opportunities anywhere else. Legally, at least. Your name wasn’t big enough to take any chance in the underworld.
Separating the needed materials and getting ready to visit another crime scene was automatic, practically a sign for your brain to shut tight the door between feelings and professionalism. By now, it didn’t take much anymore, even more so after the peak in criminality that Gotham had been going through for a while already, transforming the usual living hell into something worse.
A sigh escaped your lips as you walked into the van with the rest of the staff, giving your materials a last check.
The familiar rushed, nervous talk already permeated the air along with the strong smell of blood when you stepped out of the van, observing the crowd of officers and some other people standing there, with blood pooling on the ground not so far off. Occasionally, the sound of cameras going off would sharply echo, but everyone was too immersed in the situation to care.
Usually, a murder under a bridge down in the worst parts of Gotham wouldn’t raise that much of a commotion, though that wasn’t the case when it involved a politician—with a surname that matched one of the local mafia leaders—and characteristics of the last series of deaths, explaining Gordon’s presence there, too.
Formalities were dismissed as you walked under the yellow and black tape, approaching the corpse; Nygma stood back to exchange words with the others and grab the papers so that you could know the background a little better, to get an idea of what to look for.
It wasn’t the worst scene you’d ever seen, but still far from the best. Your case was left somewhere away from the drops of blood as you crouched next to the body. Rigor mortis hadn’t started to settle in yet, meaning it hadn’t been two full hours ever since that man’s heart stopped beating. Similarities to other cases were evident, looking like the person had died in panic, with sighs of despair like tugging on their own hair or scratching themselves, trying to run away or escape, even if they weren’t in a closed place. Sometimes it had a few differences, but the basics remained the same.
Your eyes narrowed as you looked for any sign of puncture, despite never finding them in any of the bodies, so you still had to make a background check to know if something else could’ve intoxicated them. You inhaled deeply while leaning a little closer to the corpse, trying to catch any sketchy smell, but there seemed to be nothing, as usual, even though this was the freshest body you’d gotten access to so far.
Even with the lack of any strange smell, something suffocated you, making it harder to breathe. Was there something really toxic? No, there hadn’t been anything like that in the last cases. Everyone else in there was fine. A shiver ran down your spine at the same time your breath hitched, and you couldn’t understand what stirred in your chest, your heart palpitating with the sudden discomfort.
The surrounding sounds turned muffled and distorted, your throat went dry, and your hands started to sweat. Was it getting darker already? The sun was just starting to set when you left the GCPD.
A hand landed on your shoulder, and your blood drained when you looked up to see a blurry, dark figure standing there, looming over you. You screamed without even realizing it, unable to say anything, every word turning into a scream as you fell back and tried to crawl away from the black figures that kept surrounding you, your heart hammering in your chest. You were alone, in the dark, without any family, without your boyfriend, without anyone.
𓆩𓆪
Your mind was still distant, messy, even after you woke up in the infirmary. Reality would come and go, something like when you’d been awake for way too long, making it hard to process beyond two of the uncountable questions that the doctors made you.
“You seemed… afraid,” Nygma said, furrowing his eyebrows as he helped you stand, holding your bag in one of his hands, and followed you out of the department. Everyone had said that to you before, and you do remember being afraid, wanting to run away and cry, but you simply couldn’t remember why. “Can you really go home by yourself?”
“I’m taking a cab, my boyfriend is home, waiting for me, anyway,” you sighed, still haunted by the awful feeling from earlier. When did your thoughts mix up with dreams? How much of it was reality? Knowing how far you could trust yourself was hard, but hopefully seeing Jonathan would help you return to reality. You’d forgotten about Nygma before he stood beside you again, handing your bag to you, saying something that sounded like gibberish, and you were too tired to ask him to repeat.
Everyone had been talking to you the entire time, ever since you woke up with the IV line in your arm, with sweat making your clothes stick uncomfortably to your skin and your muscles sore from the exaggerated tension. The unexplainable fear you’d felt on the crime scene was now a ghost that haunted the back of your mind, making your breath hitch whenever something caught you off guard. In a way, it was something like a hungover, but still not quite.
“Make sure to rest and drink a lot of water,” Nygma reinforced when a cab pulled up, squeezing your shoulder before you waved at him and moved to get in the car.
The drive home felt way too fast, and the numbers escaped your grasp when the driver told you the price, so you just told him to keep the change before handing him some crumpled bills and leaving the car.
Unlike the GCPD, home was warm and comfy, with a comforting smell that immediately calmed you down when you stepped past the doorway. Jonathan’s shoes were already behind the apartment’s door, his coat hung nicely as you hung yours as well. Just the sight made your heart warm.
“Sweetheart? I bought us some dinner from that restaurant you like. Also, some dessert because…” Jonathan trailed off as he walked out of the kitchen and saw you standing there by the doorway, his face falling. He was wearing dress pants and a button-up shirt only, without his tie, which was a rare sight. His eyebrows furrowed as he pressed his lips together, pushing his glasses up. “Love? You look… pale.”
You raised your eyebrows and took a deep breath, trying to get some sense of yourself so that you could answer him. “I had an incident at work,” you stated. “I went to investigate and collect materials in a fresh crime scene under a bridge, but people think I was intoxicated. I started… hallucinating? I don’t know. I was afraid. Seemed like a panic attack.”
Jonathan’s expression fell into a frown at the same time his shoulder dropped as he looked at you from head to foot before stepping closer, cupping your face in his hands, and turning your head from side to side before his thumb tugged on the skin under your eye. “Did they have you checked?”
“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “They ran a blood test, medicated me and stuff, but I’m still…” You made a vague motion to indicate the haze that clouded your mind, focusing on the warmth of Jonathan’s hands on your skin, the care in his gaze as he observed you.
Jonathan felt bad. He tried his best to muffle down that feeling that bubbled up inside his chest by focusing on caring for you, holding onto your shoulders before he gave your hips a squeeze when he looked you up and down to make sure he didn’t miss any detail, anything. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he adjusted his glasses again before nodding and kissing your cheek softly.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows, taking your bag and leaving it on the floor before he hugged you, rubbing your back comfortingly. “Or better, why didn’t anyone in the GCPD call me? Do they not have mine as one of your emergency numbers? Love, I—” His words came to a halt when you groaned softly. “Sorry, I’m just very worried,” he exhaled heavily, hugging you tighter. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened to you. You have a dangerous job, sweetheart.”
The irony of it all was a bitter joke that made Jonathan mad. To think that his fear gas—the one he had created to overcome his enemies and to protect you—had affected his own partner. Though, it did make him wonder how and why the gas had stuck around for so long. He was just supposed to get rid of the obstacles, clean the trash, not disturb his beloved partner! Jonathan wanted to strangle himself for a moment, but something—well, someone—else needed his attention right now. He kissed your cheek a few times more, hoping to ease both you and his anger.
“Are you sure you’re feeling better?” Jonathan caressed your face, and his heart fluttered and sank when a small smile tugged on your lips.
“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled with a nod. A sigh escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around Jonathan, leaning into his touches, nuzzling his shoulder. “I just needed to rest. I really wanted to see you,” you whispered. “Be with you.”
“Of course, love,” he whispered and kissed your shoulder in return, staring at the wall while holding you there. “I’m here for you.” The words were true, even if most things about him weren’t, but he needed to keep you around, to keep the only person he loved happy, the only person who brought him a sense of reality. You were the main reason he kept trying to be better, to get a better life, even if his means weren’t the best.
“I’ll get a shower ready for you,” Jonathan said, interrupting himself from overthinking and also cutting through your thoughts. “Get you into some nice clothes, then we can have dinner, and we’ll go to bed, hm? How does that sound?” He squeezed you a little before stepping back and holding your hands in his, with a soft smile. “You’ll feel better in no time. You should call in sick tomorrow. Take the day off to rest. You deserve it.”
Jonathan swallowed dryly, trying to seem as natural as possible, his thumbs running over your knuckles gently.
“Okay,” you gave in reluctantly, making relief wash over Jonathan, and he was sure that taking a day off Arkham just to take care of you wouldn’t be much of a problem. He just needed to make a few calls.
That counted as some sort of redemption, right? Jonathan ruined you, but he’d fix you. He smiled a little before he gently walked with you to the bathroom, letting you sit down on the toilet’s lid while he helped you undress while the water ran, warming up.
“I love you, okay?” Jonathan whispered. “I love you, no matter what.”
༺♡♱⋆𓆩𓆪⋆♱♡༻
#batman#dc comics#dc universe#jonathan crane#cillian murphy#x reader#x male reader#x female reader#gender neutral#scarecrow#cillian murphy x you#batman begins
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𝙊𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣’𝙨 𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙁𝙚𝙖𝙧 (𝙅𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝘾𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙚 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧)
A secret sharing conversation with your favorite villain.
tags n warnings: scarecrow x batgirl!reader, forbidden relationship, batmanverse, age gap, mentions of sex and experiments, drugs, alcohol, scents. word count: 5.1k
Luxurious candlelight illuminated the grand saloon, casting golden hues on the polished surfaces. Jonathan Crane stood among Gotham's elite, his piercing blue eyes scanning the crowd with disinterest. He’d met you once before, during a chaotic mission investigating Scarecrow while Bruce dealt with the Joker. That memory burned vividly in his mind—the taste of his own blood as you knocked him to the cold floor, the sharp sting of your boot pressing against his back.
He’d been… fascinated. Your strength, your determination, and the fire in your eyes as you cornered him—it was mesmerizing. Even in the pain, he found himself enthralled, his mind dissecting the dichotomy of your character: brutal in combat yet delicate in presence. That day, your mistake was turning your back on him. One breath of his toxin, and you’d fallen into his arms like a fragile doll.
He’d taken you to his lab, removing your mask with reverence. You looked invincible in your suit, yet your face was soft, like porcelain. When you woke, confused and scared, he wasn’t the monster you expected. Instead, he was calm, methodical, tending to the bruises you’d sustained in battle.
“You’re art,” he had whispered, his icy gaze locking onto yours. “And art is worth protecting with one’s life.”
You’d never forgotten his words, nor the unsettling way they made you feel. And now, here he was again, standing in Wayne Manor at Bruce’s lavish birthday party, dressed impeccably in a navy suit that fit him like a second skin.
Jonathan scanned the room, searching for something—or someone. Then, he saw you. Gone was the tactical suit; in its place, a flowing emerald-green gown that hugged your form perfectly. The pearls on your gloves gleamed under the soft light, and the low-cut back of your dress teased him with every subtle movement. He couldn’t look away.
His fixation was interrupted by Rachel Dawes approaching him with her usual pleasantries. Polite but disinterested, he responded with measured words, waiting for her to leave. When she introduced him to Bruce Wayne, he hid his irritation behind a charming smile.
“Dr. Jonathan Crane,” she said, her voice formal. “Head of Arkham Asylum. And this, of course, is Bruce Wayne.”
Bruce extended his hand, his grip firm—too firm. “It’s good to have someone keeping an eye on Arkham. I’ll be keeping mine as well,” he said pointedly, his tone laced with distrust.
Jonathan smiled thinly, unbothered. “I’d expect nothing less, Mr. Wayne. The asylum demands constant vigilance.”
It was then he noticed your subtle shift. You stood beside Bruce, your posture rigid as your eyes darted nervously to his face. Jonathan’s lips curled slightly, testing the waters.
“Got into a fight, Dr. Crane?” Bruce asked bluntly, earning a sharp glare from you.
“Not exactly,” Jonathan replied smoothly. “My job demands much more than sitting behind a desk. A patient had an outburst.”
He looked at you as he spoke, savoring every flicker of recognition in your features. “I had to sedate her. Alone. She’s a lovely girl, despite her… condition.” His voice, velvety and slow, seemed to seep into your skin.
Your throat tightened. “N-Nice to meet you, Dr. Crane,” you managed, introducing yourself with a shaky hand, the man that haunted your mind between pleasure and fear standing in front of you.
Jonathan took it with deliberate slowness, lifting it to his lips. “The pleasure is mine, Ms. Wayne,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your knuckles.
The gesture left you breathless, and your cheeks flushed a soft pink. Bruce cleared his throat loudly, snapping you back to reality.
Rachel interjected, pulling Bruce away. “Come on, Bruce, I have something to show you.”
Jonathan watched you as Bruce departed, his expression amused.
“He’s overprotective” You comment, your voice wavering despite your attempt to sound composed.
“Emeralds deserve protection,” He replied, Jonathan smirked, his gaze lingering.
"So, you're Wayne, huh?" he mocked, his lips curling into a half-smile as he slid his free hand into his pocket, eyes never leaving yours. "Big deal."
You raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin forming on your face. "Scared?" you joked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. But as soon as the challenge left your lips, you regretted it.
Jonathan’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with amusement. Without breaking eye contact, he took a step closer, leaning in just enough for his breath to tickle your ear. His voice dropped to a low whisper, a velvet caress that sent a shiver down your spine. "Oh, darling," he murmured, the words both a question and a statement. "You know damn well that’s my job."
You swallowed hard, the words sticking in your throat as his presence seemed to consume you. You instinctively stepped back, trying to create some space, but his gaze never wavered. He noticed the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way you clenched your fists, fighting the urge to give in. His smirk widened.
You cleared your throat, desperately trying to regain control. "Does your brother know about your little secret life?" he asked, the question hanging in the air like a challenge.
You scoffed, playing with the necklace around your neck, anything to keep your hands occupied. "You must be kidding me, Crane. He would trap me here forever if he knew."
Jonathan’s gaze softened for just a moment, the flicker of something almost… tender passing through his eyes. But it was gone too quickly, replaced by that dangerous glint. You knew what he was doing—probing, testing—but somehow, it only made you want to push back even harder.
The "fragile sister" act was something you perfected over the years, and it worked on almost everyone, but not on him. He saw through it like a pane of glass.
You locked your arm with his, the sudden contact sending an electric jolt through your body. His suit fabric brushed against your forearm, the sensation sharp and crisp. You led the way toward the bar, aware of how close you were to him now, the space between you shrinking with each step.
"Cosmopolitan," you ordered, keeping your voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside you.
Jonathan mirrored your choice, but when he spoke, his voice was as smooth as silk. "Irish Coffee," he said, the words languid, deliberate.
You watched him, unable to tear your eyes away as he brought the glass to his lips. The way his Adam's apple moved as he drank, the muscles of his throat working with each swallow—it was almost too much to bear. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, a strange mix of desire and frustration clouding your judgment.
“Arkham? Seriously?” you jeered, taking a sip of your Cosmopolitan, rolling your eyes at the taste. It was your favorite drink, something familiar to ground you, but in this moment, it was only making your head spin more.
Jonathan’s lips quirked as you rolled your eyes. “What can I say? It’s my art,” he said, his voice tinged with something almost tender. His gaze lingered on you, studying the subtle shift of your expression, the way you seemed to battle with your own feelings.
Your heart skipped a beat when you realized how much attention he was paying to you. "What? You're a psychiatrist?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice wavered slightly.
“Guilty,” he replied with a mocking innocence, raising his hands in playful surrender. His signature smirk never left his face. You caught yourself staring longer than you should, your eyes lingering on the sharp lines of his jaw, the way the suit fit him so perfectly.
“Is there anything you don’t know how to do, Crane?" you asked, your voice betraying just the slightest hint of a tremor.
"Plenty," he replied with a quiet chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours. "But I’m certainly very good at reading people."
You couldn’t help but chuckle, despite yourself. “And what do you read when you look at me?”
He leaned in just a fraction closer, lowering his voice to a whisper that sent a jolt through your chest. “I see someone who’s much more complicated than you let on,” he said, his lips almost brushing your ear. “Someone who likes to play at being untouchable, but is only a few steps away from giving in.”
You felt a flutter in your stomach as he pulled back, watching you with that predatory, calculating gaze. It was almost like he knew exactly what you were thinking, exactly what buttons to press to make your breath catch in your throat.
You tried to shake the feeling, focusing on the drink in your hand, but you were keenly aware of every second that passed, every inch closer you stood to him.
“You don’t belong here,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.
You frowned. “Excuse me?”
He swirled his glass, the dark liquid catching the light. “You’re too real for this place. Too vibrant for these hollow, glittering distractions.”
His words sent a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you wondered if he saw you more clearly than anyone else ever had.
You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, suddenly hyper-aware of how much space there was between the two of you—and how much of it you wished was gone. Jonathan’s eyes narrowed in on your movement. “Worried about Bruce?”
“Yeah,” you said, trying to sound casual, “He’s probably wondering if you’re planning my kidnapping.” You laughed lightly, though the words didn’t sit right. You knew the game you were playing, but part of you wasn’t sure how far you wanted to go.
“Probably I am,” Jonathan grinned, leaning just a little closer, his eyes never leaving you. “I’ll make some outrageous, diabolical experiments with you in my lab, little bat.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way his words affected you, but the heat growing in your belly was undeniable. “Cut the villain chat. We did it two weeks ago.” You tried to sound harsh, but the sharpness of your tone was offset by the way your heart raced.
In a last-ditch attempt to push him away, you placed your hand on his chest, thinking it might create some distance. But instead, his chest was firm beneath your palm, and your hand didn’t budge. He didn’t move either, letting you rest there, his body as unyielding as his stare.
“Shit,” you thought, feeling your pulse race. You were too excited, too overwhelmed to rationalize. You cursed yourself inwardly, not just for the way he made you feel, but for how much you craved it. The way he made everything about this situation feel dangerous, thrilling. “Stop doing…it.”
He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “What if I don’t stop?” he murmured, the words hitting you like a thunderclap.
Before you could even gather your thoughts, his hand gently grabbed your wrist, his fingers delicate but insistent, drawing you closer. You didn’t step back this time. You didn’t want to. His chuckle was low, a sound filled with satisfaction. You were finally becoming exactly what he wanted—submissive, vulnerable, and willing.
“You would be pretty as a picture,” he continued, his voice thick with desire, “laid down in my office divan…”
Your breath caught. The heat in your chest surged, and you unconsciously bit your lip, fighting the urge to surrender to the intoxicating tension between you. You couldn’t look away from him as his tongue slid over his lips, his eyes dancing with something you couldn’t quite name—but it made your pulse quicken.
“Then I would have to handcuff you” your sultry voice made his smirk even darker than before. You were overpassing dangerous limits. And you were loving it.
“I'd love to see you try.”
The space between you had disappeared entirely now. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the raw energy in his every movement. He was close—too close—and yet you couldn’t pull away.
"You really like to play with fire, don't you?" you whispered, almost to yourself, as his grip tightened just a fraction around your wrist.
“I don’t play with it, darling,” he whispered back, his voice silky, dangerous. “I control it.”
You were both standing on the edge now, teetering between what you were supposed to do and what you craved, the tension between you so thick it felt suffocating. And still, neither of you moved, locked in this dance, waiting for the other to make the next move.
The air around you seemed to thrum, charged with everything unsaid, everything undone. You finally dared to meet his eyes, and in that moment, you saw something dark, something longing, reflected in his gaze. Something that made your heart race even faster.
Perhaps this was the twisted fate of Gotham’s heroes—falling for the very thing they should fear the most: the alluring, dangerous villains who thrived in the shadows. You couldn’t help but wonder if Jonathan could sense the heat rising in you, the craving that had been building ever since he stepped into the room. You could feel his gaze sweeping the saloon, sensing his quiet triumph as Bruce remained absent. Your breath caught in your throat as you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could form a single word, Jonathan’s hand found the bare skin of your back, sending a shock through your body.
“I may kidnap you now. Can you be quiet for me, love?” he whispered, his divine scent playing with your senses. You nodded, following him like a pet obeying his owner.
To your surprise, Jonathan led you to the garden of Wayne Manor. It was quiet here, far from the bustling party yet still close enough for Bruce to find you if he bothered to look. The low, ambient lights in the garden created a serene atmosphere, and the crisp, cool air of the night seemed to settle around you like a cloak. It was like something out of a movie—beautiful, intimate, and impossibly far from the world you knew.
You watched him sit down on a bench, his posture relaxed, as he caught the amused glint in your eyes. You frowned, not hiding your disappointment, and reluctantly took a seat next to him. Your knees brushed together, the contact enough to make your pulse quicken despite yourself.
“I thought you were going to kidnap me, Crane,” you said, crossing your arms, attempting to shield yourself from the growing tension between you. Your voice was steady, but inside, you could feel your thoughts unraveling. There was no escaping it now. He had a way of making everything feel too real, too easy. You cursed your eagerness, the part of you that wanted this to continue, to sink deeper into whatever game he was playing.
He chuckled softly, a sound that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Oh, I certainly could, my darling,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. His hand brushed gently against your back, the contrast of his rough fingers against your delicate skin making you shiver. “But I think I’ll play the long game. I need your brother’s trust first.”
You tilted your head, bewildered by his answer. “Good luck with that,” you teased, the words more out of habit than belief. You had expected anything but this—anything but the calm, almost gentlemanly side of Jonathan Crane. You had prepared yourself for danger, but instead, you were faced with something even more unsettling.
His hand traced a slow, deliberate path to your arm, gently pulling you closer into his side. You stiffened at first, but when his arm settled around your shoulders, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, it was hard to resist. Your head instinctively leaned against his shoulder, and you inhaled deeply, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating scent of him—something sharp, chemical, and deeply familiar.
"Do you make your own perfumes?" you asked softly, the question slipping out before you could stop it. The closeness, the intimacy, made you more vulnerable than you'd ever felt.
He seemed amused by the question. “Is that so obvious?” He adjusted his glasses, the movement casual but purposeful, as if he were both aware and unconcerned with how his presence affected you. “I suppose it’s my... little secret. A hobby, more than anything. I’d rather spend hours in my lab than anywhere else.”
You let out a quiet laugh, your voice warm and sincere. “I’ve never smelled anything like this before,” you said, feeling the truth of your words. "It’s... captivating."
Jonathan’s expression shifted, just slightly, as if your simple compliment had caught him off guard. For the first time that night, you saw a flicker of something deeper behind his cold exterior—a crack in the armor he wore so well. You had always seen him as untouchable, a force of nature, but in that moment, your kindness had unsettled him.
"You're talented, Jonathan," you added, your voice softer now, genuine in a way that made him hesitate. He didn’t respond immediately, as if weighing the impact of your words. The usual mask of confidence and control slipped ever so slightly, his eyes searching yours as if he could see more than you were willing to reveal.
"You’ve no idea how much you charm me, Ms. Wayne," he said quietly, his voice low, almost affectionate. The change was subtle, but it was there—an admission, a crack in the unbreakable façade he so carefully maintained.
You felt something shift between you in that moment, something that went beyond the physical. It was as if you were both trapped in a dance neither of you had chosen, neither of you fully understanding the consequences.
“What makes a woman like you fight against crime and the bad guys in this town?” Jonathan asked, his voice tinged with curiosity as he cleaned his throat. The tie around his neck seemed to tighten, as if the tension between you was becoming too much to ignore.
“A woman like me?” you raised an eyebrow, your gaze locking with his, focusing on his piercing blue eyes behind the lenses of his glasses.
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “You’re smart, wealthy, independent, beautiful…” He whispered the last word, making you smile despite yourself. You flipped your hair, feeling the weight of his gaze as his eyes lingered on you.
“Beautiful?” you teased, crossing your legs. The slit of your dress gave him a glimpse of your skin, and you noticed his eyes tracing the curve of your leg, resting on your ankle adorned in golden heels.
“Ravishing,” he corrected, a flicker of something intense passing through his gaze as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The touch sent a ripple through you, and you quickly broke eye contact, your fingers unconsciously curling against the fabric of your dress.
You cleared your throat, the air between you thickening. “I’m an orphan,” you said quietly, your gaze drifting to the ground as you rubbed your arm.
Jonathan tilted his head slightly, his attention fully on you now. He didn’t press, just waited, and you continued, though it wasn’t easy. “I lived in several foster homes. Ended up on the streets at a very young age. I saw a lot of things I shouldn’t have… had to do whatever it took to stay safe.” You paused, taking a deep breath, trying to steady the quiet sadness that crept into your voice.
Jonathan’s expression softened, his eyes studying you closely. He reached out, gently brushing the backs of your hands, and for a moment, the sharp edges of his usual demeanor seemed to melt away, replaced by something more—human. You noticed the subtle change, the tenderness creeping into his touch.
He leaned back slightly, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “Bruce adopted you?”
You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. He said he saw something in me that he didn’t see in anyone else in this city. Something... special.”
Jonathan’s eyes flickered with something like recognition. “He’s right,” he said, a faint smile touching his lips. He seemed distracted for a moment, watching you with a kind of reverence, as if your words had unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
You could feel his gaze, and when you laughed softly, you saw a change in him—something more human. You noticed the subtle change, the tenderness creeping into his touch. He leaned forward again, studying you closely. “So, what makes a man like you become Scarecrow?” you asked, a playful challenge in your voice as you gently poked his chest.
“A man like me?” He scoffed, his eyes narrowing, amusement dancing in his gaze. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”
He sighed, his attention turning to the flowers in the garden, a distant look in his eyes. “It’s a long, sad story. Terrible for a date, I presume.” A wry smile crept across his face as he adjusted his tie, his expression darkening slightly.
“I’m all ears,” you breathed, your voice softer now, coaxing him to continue, your hand finding its way to his, the coolness of his skin surprising against yours.
He held your hand with hesitation, his fingers brushing against yours, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze. His breath caught as your skin met his, and he found himself drawn to the warmth you offered. No one had ever cared about him like this—not in the way you did. He’d always been the observer, the one who stayed hidden, but now, in this moment, with your hand resting in his, the walls he’d carefully built around himself started to crumble.
“All you need to know now, my dear, is that I was a child trapped in a world of dysfunction. A hopeless place where surviving was the only thing I could focus on.” His voice softened, a hint of sorrow creeping in. “I feared everything. And I learned to make fear my weapon—make it serve me, beneath me.” His throat tensed as he spoke, the words raw, stripped of the usual coldness.
He fell silent for a moment, his gaze turned downward. You watched him, heart pounding as you gently kissed the knuckles of his hand. The gesture wasn’t just tender—it was understanding. In that small, quiet moment, you recognized something in him that mirrored your own hidden pain. His self-doubt, his isolation—they were the same as yours. The dark, haunted parts of him that no one saw. You realized then, with sudden clarity, that you were more alike than you had ever imagined.
Time seemed to slow as you both sat in that silence, the weight of unspoken truths filling the space between you. His hand tightened around yours, grounding you, his touch steady and reassuring.
The cool breeze shifted around you, the night darkening as the minutes passed. It was late, and the chill in the air seeped deeper into your skin, but the warmth from Jonathan’s presence kept you tethered, drawn into the magnetic pull of everything unspoken between you.
“I should go,” Jonathan said reluctantly, his voice heavy with unspoken longing. He tightened his grip on your hand, as if afraid to let go, but there was something else too—an overwhelming need that he couldn't ignore. He had come this far, obsession pulling him toward you, and now, the thought of you walking away felt like a betrayal, an unbearable distance that threatened to consume him.
“Please,” you begged, your voice raw, your eyes swollen from the emotions you were struggling to hide. Jonathan froze, his eyes tracing every flicker of feeling on your face, his carefully constructed facade starting to slip. In that moment, he wasn’t Dr. Crane, nor Scarecrow—the manipulative villain. He was simply Jonathan, the boy he buried deep within, hidden from the world. He wasn’t sure how to be anything else.
“Don’t cry, my dear,” he said softly, the words almost foreign to him, yet he felt compelled to say them. “You don’t want to ruin this beautiful makeup of yours.” His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, but he forced himself to swallow it back. The pain in his chest was growing unbearable, but he wouldn’t allow it to break him. Not in front of you. Not now. “I’ll be back.”
“When?” you whispered, your voice cracking.
“Soon, my dear. You know where to find me.” He stood up slowly, lifting you with him, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. His touch, now almost tender, guided you through the empty saloon. The soft click of your heels on the floor echoed in the quiet, each step toward Bruce feeling heavier than the last, each step pulling you further from Jonathan.
Bruce was waiting at the bar, his eyes locked on you as you approached. He sighed, a subtle, dismissive gesture, but you couldn’t ignore the weight of his presence. The air between you and Jonathan grew colder, thicker. Every step you took meant another inch between you and the man you had just shared something unspoken with.
“I was in the garden,” you said quietly, your hands raised slightly in a gesture of surrender.
“I know,” Bruce replied flatly, his tone cool, almost annoyed. “We have cameras all around here. In every corner.” His eyes shifted to Jonathan as he spoke, a subtle warning hanging in the air.
But Jonathan didn’t flinch. He didn’t step back. He stood tall, his posture as impeccable as ever, his gaze unwavering. Unlike everyone else in Gotham, he wasn’t afraid of Bruce Wayne. And Bruce respected that—more than he would admit.
Jonathan’s voice was smooth, almost bored. “I absolutely concur about proper security,” he said, his words carrying an edge of sarcasm that only Bruce seemed to pick up on. “Besides, security is something humans think they can achieve. But a man like you, Mr. Wayne, must be well aware of the dangers outside this mansion.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow, a quiet approval in his expression. “I couldn’t have said it better,” he agreed, his mocking tone clearly present in his words.
Jonathan chuckled softly, the sound low and almost amused as he stretched his neck, his gaze flicking back to you. “I shall go now. Have a good night.” His words were sharp but not unkind, and yet, the tension that lingered in the air spoke volumes.
As Jonathan turned to leave, the space between you and him seemed impossibly vast. The warmth of his touch still lingered on your skin, and yet, you were left alone with Bruce, a silent reminder of the distance between you and the man who held your attention in ways you couldn’t quite comprehend.
“He’s dangerous.” Bruce finally says after seeing Jonathan cross the heavy door of the saloon.
“Don’t make me mention that minx cat of yours, Bruce” you shrill, making your steps to your room, hearing Brue complaining with Alfred about your reckless behaviour.
You lock your bedroom door, wanting nothing more than to shed the revealing dress that had spent the night clinging to your skin. In your pajamas now, you sit on the bed, running your fingers over the stitches on your bare arms. His words echo in your mind, about how the marks on your skin matched his perfectly, as if your pain and his were somehow connected. You’d never expected to feel so… understood, not from someone like him.
Then, a notification chimes from your phone, slicing through the quiet room. You glance at the screen, a frown tugging at your face when you see an unknown number. Bruce had warned you about these late-night calls—how dangerous they could be. He’d always been protective, always vigilant. You take a steadying breath, trying to push away the lingering sense of unease, before you tap the screen to answer.
"Hello?" you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
"I hope you don’t mind my stalking, little bat," comes the voice on the other end, smooth and confident. "You’ve made your enemy obsessed with you."
Your body goes limp, the heat from his words radiating through the phone. The honeyed voice, so familiar and yet so intimate, wraps around you, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. Jonathan Crane had a way of making everything feel unnervingly personal. You hadn’t seen him, but you could hear the satisfaction in his tone as if he were lounging comfortably, just waiting for this moment.
"I hope you didn’t find my number on the dark web or something like that," you continue.
Your pulse quickens, and despite yourself, you can’t help but smile a little. He always had a way of making you second-guess everything.
"Will I be less scary if I say that I was with Rachel minutes ago?" he adds, the nonchalance in his voice almost making you laugh.
You pause for a beat, then answer, "You were never scary to me."
Jonathan’s laugh is soft, almost pleased. "Oh, I know how brave you are, my dear. That’s why you’re so charming to my eyes."
The words leave you breathless, and for a moment, you find yourself clenching your fists to steady your racing heart. "You’re too sweet for a bad guy, Crane."
"Only for you, my darling." His voice softens, becoming almost tender.
"But Rachel? Couldn’t you just ask me?"You raise an eyebrow, intrigued.
"I fear my reputation would be ruined if I said I was too scared to ask for your number."
A warmth blooms in your chest, and your lips curve into a smile you can��t suppress. The man who had terrified Gotham—and even Batman—was shy, flustered by the simplest thing: you. You shake your feet in excitement, a little giddy at the thought that this powerful, cold-hearted villain was human in ways no one had seen before.
"Now, get some sleep, hm?" Jonathan says, his voice low, laced with something like affection.
"Yeah, I’m so tired," you admit, your words heavy with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.
"I bet you are," he replies with a playful, almost affectionate tone. "Goodnight, little bat."
"Goodnight, Jonathan." You linger on his name, savoring how it feels on your lips, a softness in the air between you now.
The call ends, and you sit in silence, the weight of the conversation settling over you. Jonathan Crane had hung up, but for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t Scarecrow or Dr. Crane to you. He was Jonathan. And for the first time in ages, he felt like a person again—like someone who could feel, who could be human, if only for a moment. His name sounded so sweet when you said it, and for him, it was the first time in a long time that anyone had said it like that.
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