29 years young | Certified Phlebotomy Technician | Pansexual | Satanist | Body Mods | Neurodivergent | May December Relationship | Group Lead - Pherisis https://fetlife.com/users/9270870
He’s fucking you like he has all the time in the world. His plump lips form an O as he watches you underneath him.
With each slow stroke you can practically feel every vein on his cock. When he’s fully seated you swear you can feel him in your lungs.
He has you chanting a single word over and over as he loves you.
please please please
“What do you need, baby?” he coos in your ear. “What do you want, the moon? Fuck, the way your pussy is hugging my dick, I’ll get you whatever you fucking want.”
His tempo doesn’t change, you feel like a live wire.
Jackson Rippner- he DOES fuck you in the bathroom on the plane. Instead of Rachel McAdams, it’s the reader. V noncon, and he even keeps his hand over her mouth and says, “better be quiet. Don’t want the flight attendants to see you enjoying having your little pussy filled, right?” Eiiseodkdownsiwos
had to combine this with another request, it's just too good
soo... get ready for heavy dubcon/noncon with lots and lots of choking and degradation :)
He slammed you up against the plastic wall, and the door slid shut on its own: trapping you in here with this monster.
You struggled, obviously, kicking and shoving randomly to try to get him away, but it wasn't very effective; you knew you weren't strong enough to best him, that was why you'd done this in the first place-- to try to outsmart him.
"Don't fight me," he informed you. It was a warning, surely, but the softness of his voice was unexpected. You were trying to yell out for help but there was still a strong hand over your mouth; you still tried, despite what he said, to kick at his feet one more time but he only pressed up against you harder to pin you down. "Shh, shh," he soothed-- well, really, it was more like an order, just given quietly in case someone outside could hear.
You waited in silence together; you glanced over his shoulder to the message you'd left in soap on the mirror: 18F HAS BOMB. Technically not true, but as long as somebody got some attention on this guy, you might be able to get out of here alive-- and spare your father from the hitman apparently waiting outside his house.
"Creative," he smiled at you, though he didn't seem particularly amused. "Why are you so deadset on making this harder for both of us?"
"You don't have to do this... you don't have to do any of this..." you whimpered, but he bared his teeth and tightened his grip suddenly on your neck.
"Neither do you," he hissed, pressing his face close to yours as you reached up and tried to claw at the hand restricting your air. "You could just do what I fucking tell you, save us both a lot of fucking trouble, and stop gambling with your father's life. Doesn't that sound so much better?"
You obviously weren't paying much attention; your face was starting to go numb, your mouth was gaping and gasping for air that never came, and-- much to your horror-- your thighs were clenching and rubbing together. It was a fantasy you'd never dared share before, partly because you were afraid you wouldn't like it much in real life... well, even when there was an actual threat of being forced to pass out, not liking it was far from an issue. You shut your eyes tight, your grip on Jackson's wrist getting weaker as strength fled your body.
You'd rather him actually choke you to the point of passing out, than him notice the way your back arched and your hips searched for friction. Why now, of all times-- with him staring dead into your watering eyes with white hot rage, pressing you to the wall, threatening to really hurt you-- did you have to get wet?
His eyes moved down from yours to your lips-- watching you try to mouth that you couldn't breathe, begging for some air-- then down to your chest where your blouse had shifted out of the way to expose just the edge of your bra. His free hand reached up to it, delicately toying with the lacy edge as a small smile curled on his lips.
"Who's this for?" he cooed, just barely relaxing his grip on your throat so you could gasp in a massive breath of air. "Who are you dressed up for, were you planning to meet someone after we landed?"
You were too busy sputtering and trying to get some air back in your lungs to even entertain an answer to that.
"Answer me," he insisted, and you started simply shaking your head.
"N-no, no one," you promised, "I just-- I didn't put it on for any reason..."
"If that's true," he growled, reaching down to your skirt, "then these won't match--"
"Fuck, don't--" you tried to protest, but he gripped your neck again while his other hand pulled your skirt up your thighs.
They matched alright; he grinned proudly when he saw them, because he'd proven himself right-- but he was much more preoccupied with how they felt when he ran his fingers over them, petting you roughly between your legs. "Oh," he purred, looking up at your flushed face again as he choked you to keep you quiet. "I think somebody is getting some naughty ideas about us being alone in here, hm?"
You shook your head, but it was pretty hard to deny-- even if you were capable of speaking, you'd be struggling to deny it. And the more he held you by your neck, the worse it got; he grinned wide when he slipped his fingers into those panties and felt for himself how soaked you were.
"Should've known," he chuckled, clicking his tongue as he slid two fingers into you; your eyes went wide, but you felt your walls clenching on him as you struggled for air. "Those sweet faces, they're always hiding something-- of course a pretty thing like you gets off on this. Dirty fucking whore."
You shut your eyes, afraid it was only moments before you lost consciousness, and yet you felt your hips rocking forward onto his fingers. He released your throat for a moment, and you whined as you screwed up your face tight. "Jackson, please--"
"Go ahead, baby," he instructed you in a low voice, "fuck yourself on my fingers. I know you need it."
You didn't really realize that you were already doing it, your body moving desperately against his hand: your hips rocked on his fingers, and you heard yourself moan hoarsely at the feeling.
"Shh, shh," he ordered again, though this time there was a grin on his face. "Don't want anybody hearing you, do we? Don't want them all to know what a needy fucking slut you are for me..."
Your pussy throbbed again and you winced-- because you hated yourself for this, feeling completely helpless to the way your body chased pleasure. Hatred and shame tugged at your chest from the inside, and your mind still wanted more than anything to fight him off; but for better or for worse, your mind wasn't steering this ship anymore.
He curled his fingers inside you, making you whimper again, and he actually laughed at you-- softly, but an outright laugh. "So fucking desperate," he mocked, pressing his thumb up to your clit hard enough to make your legs shake. His smile fell and he grabbed your face hard, pulling his fingers out and forcing them into your open mouth until you gagged. "Can you taste it?" he snarled. "Can you taste how bad you fucking need me?"
Tears rolled down your temples from all the deprivation of air; when he took the fingers out, he brought his hand down to his trousers. You couldn't even try to describe the look in his eyes as he started to open his belt and fly, and even when you opened your mouth to try to tell him no, nothing of any use came out.
Roughly, he grabbed you and spun you around, slamming you into the wall again as you winced. "Fucking whore," he sneered, holding you down with one arm across your shoulders as he tugged your panties down roughly.
"W-wait--" was all the protest you could get out before he pressed his body against yours again, the tip of his erection sliding between your lips as you gasped.
He grunted as he forced himself inside you, and you when you let out a whimper from the stretch, he put his hand over your mouth again.
His hand grabbed your hip and pulled it back against him, forcing your back to arch. You felt his hair against your shoulder as he looked down at you, and you shut your eyes tightly as you tried not to imagine how it must look: his cock pushing into you, stretching you wide...
Each rough thrust pushed you into the wall, and you whimpered, but your legs quivering gave you away. "So fucking wet for me," he purred, leaning in to breathe by your neck. "Gonna have to make this quick, before somebody catches us-- it's a shame, though, sure could take my time with you..."
When your walls clenched on him, he let out a small chuckle just by your ear, playfully biting on the lobe.
When you moaned again as he fucked you just a bit harder, his hand found itself around your throat one more time, tightening until you were forced into silence. "That's better," he whispered, "good girl."
thinking about how if you sassed hotch at work, he’d call you up to his bau office and snap the blinds shut and bend you over the desk and spank you for it before sending you back to your desk
you thought you had gotten away with it - your snippy remark about the metaphorical stick shoved up his ass when it came to completing paperwork on time - when all he had given you was a stern look and had stalked off. so when the door to his office swings open and he takes a few steps out to properly look at the bullpen, you're not so tepid when your name echoes throughout the semi-silent room. "y/n." he nearly clears his throat, but instead licks over his lips, hands settled sassily on his hips. "i need to see you in my office."
derek, to your right, settles back into his swirly chair, garcia's stolen glitter pen twirling between his fingers. "what'd you do this time, mama? anything good and juicy?" his eyes squint into feigned accusatory slits, his seriousness betrayed by a paired goofy smile. "anything we should be worried about?"
you scoff, pushing off from your chair with a roll of your eyes, straightening out the pencil skirt that's been riding up your thighs all evening. "the only thing you should be worried about is that growing pile of paperwork, sweetheart," you trill, motioning to the thick stack of papers dropped messily atop his desk's surface. "hotch might need a special meeting with you too."
aaron's scowl doesn't fade when you enter his office, and it still lingers when the door clicks shut. "where do you get off?" his deep tenor is dripping with authority, despite the near whisper that he's speaking in. "do you not understand how important it is to maintain our professional relationship?"
your hands fly behind your back, fingers twisting nervously at each other until audible clicks are heard. "i mean i was right, there's no need to-"
"over the desk, agent." he uncrosses his arms to motion to the edge of his neatly-arranged desk, expression still set into a disgruntled one. "and quickly, i have work to do."
with a defeated huff, you comply, fingers pulling up the starchy, pressed material of your skirt to pull it up and over your hips, showing the flimsy lace of his favorite red thong, which barely obscures the arousal that's pooled from your dripping cunt.
he's docile only in drawing a thumb over the wet patch, the whisper of a touch causing you to twitch with anxious anticipation. there's no warning when a firm hand comes down to swat angrily at your bottom. you jolt forward, curling your fingers around the opposite edge of the wooden desk to anchor yourself in both space and time. "jesus, i-"
and he's repeating the action with an increase of power this time, your hips already spotting with bruises with the forceful impact against the desk. when he's finished, heavy tears are already weighing at your lashline, which he's careful to wipe away with a gentle thump. he aids in pulling your skirt over your warm, beaten bottom, smearing a kiss against your cheekbone for good measure. "go get your work done," he commands, but offers you a small smile. "i'll take care of the bruises when we get home. just make sure your work gets done and we won't have another problem."
a thought i have after rewatching red eye: jack abducting you because you're the daughter of an important politician. as a way to show your father that you aren't safe, and to enjoy himself, he films himself forcing you to cum over and over again until you're just a whimpering mess.
"Please, just tell me she's alright," the man begged through the cracked and muffled audio of the phone call. "Tell me she's alive."
"Of course she's alive," Jackson promised, glancing over at you with a grin, "she's better than ever."
He almost got distracted by the sight of you, tied to the bed with the vibrator pressed against your clit. You'd been there for the better part of an hour, and you hadn't stopped shaking the whole time, screaming and sobbing into your gag-- but the puddle under you on the sheet spoke for itself. "C-can I talk to her?" your father asked.
"Oh, I don't think she wants to talk to you right now," Jackson purred, "she's... a little tied up at the moment. You can talk to her yourself once you do what I've asked."
"But I--"
He rolled his eyes and tossed the phone away, approaching the bedside slowly. He watched you for a moment, tears streaming from your eyes as you convulsed uncontrollably. "Ready to behave, sweetheart?" he asked, but you weren't able to respond anyways. He reached down and switched the vibe off, watching the way you stilled and started to catch your breath-- though he still caught you shivering with aftershocks for a moment as he sat down between your legs on the bed.
He bit his lip as he moved the vibrator away and set it aside, getting a good look at your soaked little pussy-- he couldn't help but reach and pull your lips apart and get a better look at that pretty hole, so desperate to be filled.
"I think we've finally fixed your attitude problem," Jackson noticed with a grin as you just laid there limply, letting him touch you. "And I bet you're extra sensitive now, right?"
He just lightly touched your clit, watching your whole body jump in response as your eyes went wide open. You groaned against the gag but he couldn't make out any words.
"Shh, it's alright, I'll leave that alone for now," he promised, starting to undo his trousers, "but I bet you can still come again just from being fucked."
You whined, trying to move your hips away with what little room you had, and he raised his eyebrows.
"Oh? You want this back instead?" he presumed, picking up the vibrator again. You shook your head feverishly, whimpering and starting to cry again. "Okay, if you're sure. I can leave you here for another hour, get some lunch-- or you can be a good girl for me."
You didn't react for a second, looking straight at him, and he reached up to hook his finger in the gag and pull it out of your mouth. "Please," you began, your voice a little hoarse, "please..."
"'Please' what?" he pressed.
"Please... fuck me..." you whispered.
He tilted his head, putting a hand to his ear. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
"Fuck me! Please!" you screamed in frustration, finally learning the rules of Jackson's game. "I want you to-- I want you! Just, please please fuck me!"
He grinned and leaned down to the floor, picking up the phone where he'd dropped it-- still on the line. "You catch all that, daddy dearest?"
You were already flushed but you looked mortified then, and Jackson had to laugh at your expression. "You sick fuck," your father growled on the other end of the line.
"No rush, pops, she's having a great time," Jackson promised as you cried harder, "she may not even wanna come back once you've finished the job!"
He put the phone down again, pretty sure your dad was going to hang up and hold up his end of the bargain now-- but if not, there would be plenty for him to listen to.
"I knew you wanted it," he announced to you proudly, pulling his cock out and rubbing the leaking head right up against your hole. "Bet with how many times you've come I'll just slide right in..."
He was right about that, but you were still so tight inside-- he could even feel you still flexing just a bit after coming so much, your poor cunt still trying to cope with what he'd put it through. You whined as he filled you, but your back arched, too; of course a needy slut like you couldn't ever be satisfied.
"Fuck," he groaned, "I hope he takes his fucking time getting that money transferred... I want lots more time to play with you, sweetheart."
“I broke apart my insides, I’ve got no soul to sell. The only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself.”
“I wanna fuck you like an animal, I wanna feel you from the inside."
"You can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything.”
warnings: smut, rough sex, choking, first time, penetrative sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, spitting, spitballing, cum eating, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), face fucking/ deepthroating, nipple play, orgasm denial, porn with some plot, pwp, wow there's a lot here lol
word count: 2316
authors note: if Dr. Jonathan Crane has a million fans, then I'm one of them. if Dr. Jonathan Crane has one fan, then I'm THAT ONE. if Dr. Jonathan Crane has no fans, that means I'm dead. anyway, I love this man and his character so much, so I had to be feral about him. he's so pretty, and for what??? also Closer by NIN is soooo Jonathan-coded. I don't make the rules. (not beta read, we die like men here)
main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here
Six months have passed, and you’ve yet to have any form of sex with your boyfriend, Dr. Jonathan Crane. You get that he’s busy most of the time and doesn’t really hold sex to a high standard like most men do. But god, you wanted him to have your way with you already. Jonathan looks like he was hand sculpted by the gods themselves with his piercing blue eyes, strong jawline, and perfect lips. You’d do anything to have his stunning face between your legs. And you seriously mean anything at this point. Both of you trust each other with your lives. Jonathan has taken a while to open up to you, and the last thing he’s yet to show you about himself is his sexuality.
For the last week, every time you so much as kiss Jonathan, you get irrevocably turned on. Sometimes he’ll give into you and let his tongue explore your mouth, but then he’ll pull away with a satisfied smirk. It’s almost as if he teases you on purpose. But then again, you doubt Jonathan would do it for this long, purposely depriving you of physical affection. But the things he does, don’t surprise you anymore. He could very well be torturing you without you realizing it.
Everything changes when you stay at Jonathan’s apartment one night. You take a shower and put on your favorite pair of matching lace underwear and a shirt you stole from Jonathan’s dresser the first time you came over. You have no makeup on, you’ve just finished brushing your teeth for bed, and you haven’t put on any pants as of yet. The hem of the shirt is tucked into your underwear unbeknownst to you. So, when Jonathan walks into his bedroom, he sees you standing in the doorway of the en-suite bathroom with his old white t-shirt inside your bright red underwear. You barely notice his eyes turn three shades darker as you go to rinse your mouth.
Jonathan comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you’re ducked into the sink, spitting out the remainder of your toothpaste. He presses himself against your ass when it sticks out as you bend over. You don’t pay much attention to Jonathan and him being close to you. He was surprisingly clingy. But when you stand up straight and look at him behind you in the mirror’s reflection, you notice his features are much darker than usual.
“Are you-“ You begin to ask if Jonathan is okay, but before you can finish your sentence, his mouth attaches itself to your neck.
With his hands splayed across your stomach underneath your- his shirt, he pulls your hair away from your shoulder. Jonathan then makes eye contact with you in the mirror as his hands travel up your abdomen to your breasts. He gives them a harsh squeeze as he bites down into the skin between your neck and shoulder. You hiss at the feeling of Jonathan being so close to you, touching you like this. You wonder what’s gotten into him but push that thought aside when his fingertips delve past the lace covering your nipples. You gasp as Jonathan circles one with his index finger, licking up your neck and jaw slowly until he reaches the side of your face.
“You look irresistible,” Jonathan breathes into your ear, nibbling at the lobe.
“And what are you gonna do about it?” you ask, biting your lip in anticipation.
Jonathan picks up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you over to his bed, where he all but gently throws you onto it. Before you can react, Jonathan is on top of you, ripping your underwear clean off your legs.
“Let me take care of you, darling,” Jonathan coos, pushing the shirt up and over your head before unclasping your bra next.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” you sigh, tugging at his white button-up that he’s yet to change out of.
“I think I have an idea of how long. Show me how bad you want it,” Jonathan says, moving his hands off of you completely.
The urge to rip the man in front of you apart bubbles up in your lower stomach, and you sit on your knees in front of Jonathan. You rip his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere in the room. You leave open-mouthed kisses on his chest as he slides his fingers through your hair, gripping it harshly as he pulls your head back so you can look at him. You stare at him unwaveringly; your eyes half-lidded with growing lust. After studying the smirk on your face, Jonathan lets go of you, and you immediately go for the button and zipper of his trousers. Unbuckling his belt, you yank it out of the belt loops and toss it on the floor. You pull his pants down his hips far enough for you to get where you want. Pulling Jonathan’s cock out, you marvel at it momentarily before taking his head into your warm mouth. There was no way you’d be able to take all of him without gagging, but you’re going to try anyway. You’ve waited too long for this.
“Fuck,” Jonathan keens as you swivel your tongue around him, gathering his precum.
He realizes he’s definitely waited too long for this.
But he has been nervous about being vulnerable around you. He actually cares about you, believe it or not. And doesn’t want to hurt you- not severely, anyway. Only as much as you’ll let him.
Before Jonathan can tell you to hurry up and take his cock, you slam your nose into his pelvis, letting his tip hit the back of your throat. He lets out the dirtiest moan you’ve ever heard, sending heat straight to your bare core. You’re impossibly wet, rubbing your thighs together as you bob your head along Jonathan’s length with fervor. You let him thrust into your mouth as you helplessly gag around him, spit dribbling down your chin as tears fall from your eyes. Jonathan face fucks you, and you simply take it, enjoying every second of his perfect cock in your mouth. Your fingernails dig into his hips, causing him to bite his lip as he looks down at you. You peek up at him through your eyelashes, pulling him out of your mouth and flicking your tongue on his head. Suddenly, your face is ripped away from his body.
“Lay back on the bed like a good girl for me,” Jonathan growls, your hair in a vice grip in his hand once again.
You quickly crawl to the pillows, lying down as Jonathan discards the rest of his clothing, completely naked and revealed to you at last. You scan his body, freckles dotting the places his clothing hides. They’re not just dusted along his cheeks but his shoulders too. His back is also covered in constellation-like freckles. Jonathan tries not to notice you studying him, but he can’t help but drink in your appearance too. How your waist and hips make the perfect shape, how your breasts are perked up from your arousal, and how your skin looks in the room's lighting. Jonathan looks perfect to you, and you look flawless to him.
“Beautiful,” Jonathan sighs, kissing your ankle and up your calf until he meets your thigh.
Your breath hitches as his face lingers at your pussy, right where you need him, but then he goes to your other thigh and sucks a mark into your skin there. You throw your legs over his shoulders, and he tilts his head to the side, looking at you with that sassy yet emotionless look of his.
“Impatient, are we?” Jonathan asks, hovering his lips right over you as his breath hits the sensitive, wet skin.
“Very,” you drawl, glaring at him playfully, “I’ve waited six months for you to eat me out, you know.”
“I’m aware,” Jonathan says, his eyes carefully taking in your anatomy, “I want to make it well worth it, dear.”
You reach down and rake your fingers through his hair, pushing his head closer to you. Jonathan wordlessly attacks your folds, licking intense stripes up and down your slit. He’ll circle your clit with the tip of his tongue before flicking it back and forth on the bundle of nerves, causing you to entangle your fingers deeper into his hair. Jonathan then takes both hands and spreads you open, flattening his tongue and shaking his head vigorously as he laps at you like a thirsting man.
“Oh fuck,” you moan, thrusting into his face.
Jonathan sneaks a finger into your entrance, curling it against the spongy spot he finds inside you. He strokes it teasingly to the same rhythm of his tongue against your clit. You clamp your thighs against the sides of Jonathan’s head, essentially trapping him. He slips another finger into you, slamming them in and out of you as the sound of your arousal bounces off the walls.
“That feel good, baby?” Jonathan hums, his mouth pulling away from you despite your thighs, his darkened blue eyes boring into yours.
“Mhmm,” you nod, rocking your hips onto his fingers as he adds a third, stretching you out.
“That’s right, fuck yourself on my fingers,” Jonathan gasps, thrusting them faster and harder into you as his thumb finds your bundle of nerves, pressing into it.
You’re so close that you can already feel the knot in your stomach about to come undone. Your hand finds Jonathan’s cheek, caressing it as his eyes meet yours again. You arch your back close to your peak. But then, Jonathan pulls his fingers from you, tucking them into his mouth as you glare at him. He just chuckles darkly at you before grabbing you by the throat.
“Open your mouth,” he demands.
You obey, Jonathan’s grip on your neck dizzying you. He gathers your slick and his spit in his mouth before spitting it into yours, forcing your mouth closed.
“Now swallow like a good girl,” Jonathan says, holding his hand around your throat once more.
You taste yourself on your tongue, swallowing the spit as you were told.
Jonathan’s hand travels to your face as his thumb pulls your mouth open so he can thoroughly inspect it, “Perfect.”
He sits up, spreading your legs further open so he can line himself up with your begging entrance. Gathering some of the wetness there, Jonathan pushes himself into you slowly. Your hand flies to his shoulder blades, your nails digging into his pale skin. Finally, Jonathan fills you up completely, his hips flush against yours. You throw your head back at the feeling of fullness, the sting of the stretch turning into pleasure.
“God, Jonathan,” you move your hips a little, “You feel amazing.”
“You’re so tight it’s almost ridiculous,” Jonathan dryly jokes, his hands finding purchase on your hips as he pulls all the way out, then slams back into you.
“Fuck,” you seethe, and one of Jonathan’s hands find their way back to your throat.
He repeats his motion, pulling his hips back then snapping them forward again, gaining a steady pace. You’re a moaning mess as he quickens his rhythm. Jonathan’s face is leant down to your ear as he grunts into it. The headboard begins to slam into the wall behind you, but neither of you care about the dent it’ll probably leave in the drywall.
“Jonathan,” you drawl out in a high pitched cry, his cock hitting your cervix just right.
“I shouldn’t have waited so long to destroy you like this,” Jonathan says in between his groans, “I love seeing you fall apart underneath me.”
Your eyes screw shut, rolling into the back of your head as he fucks you hard and fast, sure enough to leave you sore tomorrow. The sound and smell of sex fills the room as sweat beads on your forehead. You’re moving your hips at the same time as Jonathan, matching his quick and harsh thrusts. He’s hitting every spot within you just right, the shaft of his cock rubbing your clit perfectly every time he pushes it into you. You start seeing stars behind your eyes from the pressure his fingers are putting on your throat and the building orgasm in your stomach.
“God, I wanna cum,” you scream, “Please make me cum,” you’re nearly begging incoherently now.
“Fuck, that’s right, beg me. Show me how long you’ve wanted me to fuck your witty little brains out,” Jonathan says behind gritted teeth, his own orgasm peeking over the horizon.
You start babbling and repeating, “Please,” like a mantra until Jonathan hits a spot within you that causes the stars behind your eyes to explode with white light. You feel yourself gush around him as his thrusts become sloppy, your clenching sending him over the edge. Jonathan spills into you as you both ride out your orgasms, whispering each other’s names weakly.
Jonathan runs a hand over his hair, sitting back as he catches his breath and pulls himself out of you. Your chest heaves as you feel the mixture of your cum and Jonathan’s cum seep from you.
“That was amazing,” you sigh, melting into the mattress.
Jonathan lays down next to you, pulling you into his chest, “We can clean up later. For now, just rest a moment.”
After a brief moment of silence, you finally ask the begging question.
“Why did you wait so long?”
“I was nervous,” Jonathan confesses, “I haven’t let anyone in, in a long time. And I’ve finally let you in enough for you to experience this part of me.”
“I see,” you say, curling your arms around his that are crossed over your breasts.
“Was the wait worth it?” Jonathan asks, burying his face into your neck.
dad’s best friend!cillian catching you throwing a party while you’re parents are away and he’s disappointed but can’t help himself when you make him a drink and ask him to stay
Cillian Murphy Headcanons
Dad's Best Friend!Cillian Murphy x Reader
✺ you were absolutely not, under any circumstances, to have anyone over at your house while your family was gone. but of course, you got bored and invited your best friend over, who suggested having a small gathering. and this small gathering ended up not being so small in the end. you can't really say it's your fault, but then again, no one was supposed to be over to begin with.
✺ the party is in full swing by 11 p.m., and you're trying your best to keep the music down at a reasonable volume. but one of your friends, who's been drinking a little more than you, keeps turning it back up. you roll your eyes at him, and he just grins at you innocently.
✺ you're outside on your back patio by yourself, sitting on your wooden porch swing with a mixed drink in your hand. everyone else is inside, and you decide you need to get away from the loud and stuffy party. you're startled when your neighbor and your dad's best friend, Cillian, peeks his head over the privacy fence, "nice party you got goin' on." "shit, cill. you scared me!" you seethe, a hand over your chest. "you know you're not supposed to have anyone over, sweet girl." you roll your eyes at the nickname, even though your heart flutters a little, "I know. I invited my friend over, and it got... out of control."
✺ you offered Cillian the rest of your drink, which was a little stout, but that's how you made them sometimes. he doesn't even wince when he takes a sip, his tolerance fairly high naturally. "not bad," he says, "needs more vodka, though." "there's enough in there to knock out a horse," you snort. "you know you're in trouble right now, right?" you sigh at the older man, "yeah, I do. how does another drink sound? maybe you can stick around with me out here for a while? I don't wanna go back inside."
✺ Cillian reluctantly agrees, still scolding you for not listening to your family, especially your dad. you quickly go inside and pour a cup of Tito's before anyone notices you. slipping back outside, you hand the cup to Cillian and idle by the fence. "better," he smiles after taking a sip. "gonna stick around?" you ask. "maybe," Cillian chuckles. the two of you converse outside until after midnight. everyone has trickled out of your house, including your friends. you're relieved. "wanna come inside? I need company while I clean up." "sure. it can be your punishment to clean by yourself." you groan, "whatever, cill."
✺ after cleaning, it's nearing 1 a.m., and you're still nursing some alcohol in your hand. your family is still away for a few more days, and it's summer, so you have no responsibilities. so, why not? Cillian is next to you on the couch as you both watch a cheesy horror movie that's on tv, his arm on the couch behind you. you're sitting pretty close to him, and you inch closer as the alcohol warms your body. soon enough, you're nestled into his side and his arm is around you.
✺ Cillian looks at you, admiring your side profile as the tv flashes across your face. he reaches a hesitant hand up to your jawline, tracing it with his thumb. you turn your head to look at him, his line of sight right at yours. you nearly bump noses from the close proximity. Cillian glances at your lips and back up to your eyes, his hand that's behind you slipping into your hair. he lures you in, and you don't resist, having found your dad's best friend attractive since you could make sense of the word. you're old enough now to act on your desires, so you do. when Cillian's lips connect with yours, it's like magic. your hands rest upon his cheeks, keeping him engaged with your kiss.
✺ Cillian pulls away, "not telling your dad about this either, correct?" "absolutely not," you shake your head, and Cillian laughs before pulling you back in for another heated kiss.
The power has gone out on set and the backup generators aren’t working. So, filming of Oppenheimer has stopped for the day. But you and Cillian haven’t left to go to your respective homes just yet- you’re a little busy. Despite the sweltering heat, the two of you are stuffed inside your trailer, blasting the AC on high until that eventually stops working, too. Cillian has you pinned underneath him on your little couch in the trailer, the fabric cushions leaving sweaty impressions on your thighs. Cillian is pounding into you, sweat forming on his brow. Every few minutes he’ll swipe his forehead with the back of his arm, exhaling with a laugh.
Your body is sheened in sweat, but you don’t care, you’re too busy gripping the armrest behind you. As Cillian slows his pace of thrusts, he wipes a hand over his face.
You chuckle, “Getting too hot?”
“Too old,” Cillian jokes.
You roll your eyes, tutting, “Not true.”
Cillian dismisses you, flicking his thumb over your clit as he thrusts as fast as he can despite the warmth filling the trailer. You curse under your breath, switching your grip from the couch to Cillian’s bare upper arms.
The two of you say nothing, you both just focus on your releases as sweat drips from your bodies.
A night over at your best friend, Cillian's, leads to something more than friendship but something less than romance. Will you ever tell him how you feel, or will you always just be friends with benefits?
warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, cock warming, friends with benefits, friends to lovers, dirty talk, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, mentions of choking, love confessions
word count: 4409
author’s note: I'm shadowbanned on my main account everyone please clap (not for nsfw, I was flagged for spam yay) so I'll be posting on this shiny new blog, ao3, and wattpad for the time being. (those are both linked on my masterpost) hopefully I'll be unbanned soon because I've had my main tumblr for a decade and it has 2.5k followers on it and I'll fr cry my eyes out if I can't get unbanned!!! anyway please enjoy this!! I wrote a good chunk of this while at work this week. the horny really unleashes in the second part haha. please leave feedback if you enjoy! <3
PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG. BUT ALSO, DO NOT UNFOLLOW MY MAIN BLOG!
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Cillian’s lips hover over yours, and you can feel his warm breath hitting your face. His eyelashes almost touch your cheeks, and his nose is beside yours, barely brushing against it.
“I want you so bad,” Cillian whispers, his hands finding your hips.
You have been friends since the 90s when Cillian first arrived in Hollywood, stumbling upon you at a local bar where you worked. Ever since, you’ve both been the best of friends. But tonight, that’s being challenged. The lights in Cillian’s place are dimmed, candles are lit, and wine is flowing through the two of you. Having a bit to drink in a comfortable setting isn’t out of the norm, but for some reason, tensions were high tonight. You could almost cut it with a knife. Everything about him is more mesmerizing tonight- his eyes, his freckles, the way he smiles. You needed him, and apparently, he needed you too.
“Then have me,” you mutter against Cillian’s lips.
He chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head slightly, “I don’t want to ruin us.”
“You won’t,” you look down at his lips- they’re so close to yours that you can feel them move whenever he speaks.
“Promise?”
“I promise,” you breathe, grabbing hold of Cillian’s face as he finally puts his mouth on yours.
The kiss immediately becomes hungry, your teeth nearly clashing together as Cillian slips his tongue around yours. He’s gripping your hips fiercely, and his sideburns press pleasantly into your palms as you hold his head steady. Cillian pulls you onto his lap from your sitting position on the couch next to him, seating you firmly on his thighs. Your fingers find his hair, tugging it slightly as a small whimper vibrates in Cillian’s throat. The sound spurs you on, and you take over the kiss, dominating his tongue with yours. You explore his mouth and suck on his tongue harshly, pulling away from the embrace to catch your breath.
“Fuck,” Cillian curses, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re good at this.”
You scoff, putting both your hands on his cheeks as you trace your thumb along his sharp cheekbones, “And to think you would’ve never known.”
“Not necessarily,” Cillian looks you in the eyes, “I would’ve gotten you one way or another.”
“Then why have you waited so long, then? Hmm?” you ask.
“I value our friendship,” Cillian admits.
“I do, too, Cill. But god, if I had known you were so good at kissing, I would’ve done it ages ago,” you smirk, running your finger across his bottom lip.
His eyes follow your movements before they flick up to yours, darkening, “I’m not just good at that.”
His words shoot straight to your lower belly, warmth spreading through you, “Is that right?”
“Mhmm,” Cillian pulls you closer to his chest, your core settling right on his.
“Show me.”
Cillian attacks your lips again, this time biting down on your lower lip and rolling it between his teeth. You watch his face as he does it, his icy eyes becoming a darker shade of blue. His hand moves from your hip to your hair, his fingers sliding through your locks before they tighten, pulling your head backward to expose your neck. Cillian leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck, licking a stripe up the side before he bites at the skin, leaving a small bruise to form below your jaw. You squirm slightly at the feeling of his teeth pressing into your skin, dangerously close to breaking its surface. Cillian then kisses your collarbones, stopping when he reaches the neck of your shirt, well, his shirt. You always took from his wardrobe, whether it was a beanie, t-shirt, or hoodie that he forgot he had. He slides his hand from your hip to underneath the shirt, pressing his palm to your feverish skin and pushing it up slowly until he reaches your breast.
“No bra?” Cillian asks, surprised.
“I never wear a bra when I’m over here,” you admit, “I’m surprised you’ve never noticed.”
“I’m glad I never noticed, or else I’d be underneath your shirt constantly,” Cillian pulls his hand from your hair to move it under the shirt along with the other.
“Doesn’t sound too bad to me,” you giggle, but it’s cut off by a quiet moan when Cillian grasps your breasts.
Cillian brushes his thumbs over your nipples, circling the buds as they harden under his touch. You hum, letting your head fall back at the sensation. Cillian pushes the shirt up and over your chest, and you help him pull it all the way off, tossing it somewhere in the living room. Immediately, Cillian latches onto one of your nipples, toying with the other one with his fingers. Electricity shoots to your still-clothed core, and you know that Cillian can feel you beginning to throb through your thin shorts. His playing with your breasts could get you off alone; his touch is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s sometimes sensual and soft and rough and firm when needed. Cillian grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud, pulling it toward him as you let out a yelp. You involuntarily bare down on his lap and feel him growing harder underneath you. He lands a slap to your breast, and you gasp, hands going to grip his biceps to ground yourself.
“I can feel you getting excited,” Cillian teases, raising his hips a little to let all your weight sit on him momentarily.
“What are you gonna do about it, then?” you stifle a moan at his bulge pressing into your clit harshly.
Cillian pushes you off his lap and onto the couch, where he spreads your legs and yanks your shorts down your thighs, discarding them wherever the shirt also previously went. He pulls your calves onto his shoulders, laying on his chest between your thighs. His breath hits your dampened underwear, sending goosebumps across your skin. You bite your lip as Cillian plays with the edges of your underwear right against where you need him most. He toys with the fabric, letting his fingers barely touch you underneath.
“I’ve waited so long for this,” Cillian confesses, his intense eyes flickering up to your face.
You feel your cheeks burn, “Me too.”
Cillian smiles his typical beautiful smile, teeth and all, as he pulls your underwear down your legs painfully slow, “I’ve always imagined how wet you’d get just from me teasing you.”
You bite back a whimper as he removes your underwear from your legs, letting them fall to the floor.
“You’d get soaked from me playing with your pussy, rubbing your clit slowly, and eating you out until you cry,” Cillian lets his filthy words fall from his lips as you shiver from them, wanting to close your legs subconsciously.
But they were perched on Cillian’s shoulders, and he was about to go in for the kill. He kneads your thigh before pushing it to the side, letting it drape off the edge of the couch and opening you up further to him. Cillian’s fingers brush against your hardening clit like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, making you tremble as you grunt from the sensual feeling.
“Please,” you sigh, your hips jerking up when Cillian pulls his hand away.
“Please, what?”
“Touch me, Cill. God, I need you to touch me.”
Cillian strokes your entrance with his index finger, gathering your wetness before dragging it up to your clit. He circles the bundle of nerves slowly, making you whine above him.
“So wet already,” Cillian moans, “You’re so beautiful.”
You throw your head back against the arm of the couch when Cillian finally replaces his finger with the tip of his tongue, going around and around the sensitive bud, never coming directly in contact with it. He changes his mind about that and starts to lap at your clit, flicking his tongue over it as his fingers travel back to your now-dripping entrance. Cillian hums in satisfaction at the feeling of your arousal seeping out of you at his expense. He flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe up your slit before swirling his tongue around your clit, his tongue still flat and giving your entire bundle of nerves attention. Cillian probes you with a single finger, pushing it in as you moan his name. He pumps it in and out of you, curling it against your g spot with every thrust. He adds a second finger, and the sound of your wetness grows louder, mixing with your breathy moans and Cillian’s pants.
“Say my name again,” Cillian bites his lip, watching as his soaked fingers move in and out of you.
“Cillian,” you whine, moving your hips along with his fingers.
“That’s right, fuck yourself on my fingers, darling,” he says, adding a third finger in you.
To say you‘re a mess is an understatement. You need Cillian inside you, as your walls are clenching around his fingers with desperation. You grab his shirt, “Fuck me, please.”
“Thought you’d never ask,” Cillian smirks, lifting his shirt off his lean body before standing up to tug his pants and underwear down and off his legs.
Cillian teases your clit with his leaking head before lining himself up with you. He looks at you with an unsure expression, and you nod in response to the unspoken question. He slowly pushes himself into you, your warmth already fluttering around him. Cillian guides himself all the way to his hilt, letting out a throaty groan when he feels his entire length surrounded by your velvety walls. His hands run up and down your abdomen, stopping when he palms over your breasts. They’re still sensitive from the previous activity and your growing arousal, causing you to wriggle when Cillian’s fingers deftly pinch at both your nipples as he slowly pulls himself almost out of you entirely before slamming back into you. You cry out, your hands flying to where his back meets his shoulders, nails digging softly into his flesh. Cillian moans when you clench harshly around him when he tugs at your nipple particularly hard.
“You like these pretty titties to be played with, huh?” Cillian runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he watches your face twist in pleasure when he pulls at the sensitive skin.
You nod, but he lets go of your breasts, running his hands over your body before his hand snakes between the two of you, rubbing tight circles on your clit. You let out a throaty moan, and Cillian curses under his breath as his hips snap against yours at a steady rhythm.
“Fuuuuck,” you drawl, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your body heaves into the couch from the velocity of Cillian’s perfect cock slamming into you without mercy, “You feel so good inside of me.”
You push Cillian up and off you, shoving him onto the couch behind him. You climb on his lap, throwing your legs over his thighs as you line him back up with your aching cunt. Feeling him stretch you out completely while at a different angle makes you moan uncontrollably as you set a pace, riding Cillian as if your life depended on it. Your ass slaps his hips as he guides them up and down, thrusting into you dead-on. Cillian’s tip hits your cervix flawlessly, and you feel that tightness in your belly.
“Cum inside me, Cillian,” you swivel your hips, “Fill me up and make me yours.”
“Gonna cum around my cock first?” Cillian’s lips are swollen from incessantly biting as he watches you fuck yourself on him.
You decide you’ll milk him for all he’s got and lean down to land a bruising kiss on his lips. Both of you pant into each other’s mouths as you near your peak, reaching underneath you to flick your clit. Cillian grips your ass as you feel yourself unravel, your orgasm ripping through you. Your walls cave in on CIllian’s length, causing him to reach his own orgasm before he’s ready. He squirms underneath you as you continue to bounce on his cock, coaxing every drop of cum out of him.
“Fuck,” Cillian exhales as he runs a hand through his sweaty hair, looking just as fucked out as you.
You lay down on his chest, him still inside you. He doesn’t bother moving either; the feeling of you still cloaked around him made him dizzy. Cillian is still trying to wrap his head around how this is real. He also is trying to figure out where to go from here. He’s terrified of telling you his true feelings for you, fearing you won’t want to be friends anymore. Obviously, tonight the dynamic has changed from just friendship between the two of you.
“I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for that,” you trace shapes into Cillian’s bare chest, peering up at him when he doesn’t answer.
He appears deep in thought.
“Everything okay?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows at the man underneath you.
Cillian nods, his hand finding your hair before stroking it softly, “Just thinking.”
“About?” you rest your chest on his collarbone.
“How much I’d like to do this again,” Cillian says, and you chuckle.
“That can be arranged,” you leave a kiss on his neck, his eyes meeting yours through his eyelashes.
“You haven’t ruined anything. And I’ve had just as much to do with this as you,” you say, putting your finger under Cillian’s chin to look at him directly, “You’re still my best friend.”
“And you’re fine with whatever this is?”
“It’s the best of both worlds,” you shrug with a smile.
Cillian moves to sit up against the couch's armrest still sheathed inside you. And as you start yet another make out session and begin to rock your hips with your walls still hugging his cock, you try not to think. The idea that you must hide your feelings for Cillian even more is hard to wrap your mind around.
But little did you know, he was having the same problem. He tries not to think about it as he thrusts into you sloppily, letting you ride him as you please.
—
“Jesus, shit!”
“God, you’re so fucking drenched. All of this for me?”
“Uh-huh,” you whimper, letting out a pornographic moan as one of Cillian’s hands holds your swollen cunt open while the other rubs at it vigorously.
“Just like that-” Cillian moans at the sounds you’re letting out, “Need you to cum on my face, pretty thing.”
You cry out, rocking your hips against Cillian’s merciless hand as it flies across your pussy with no sign of stopping. He pokes out his middle finger to catch your clit with every swipe of his hand. Your orgasm explodes in your stomach, your core gushing cum as Cillian hurries to dip his face down. He latches his mouth onto your cunt, flicking his tongue over your bundle of nerves, causing you to squirt again.
“Fuuuck,” you squeal, your hands gripping Cillian’s hair like a vice.
Cillian can’t get enough. He’s not gonna lie, he thinks he’s absolutely obsessed with making you squirt. He could do it all night and still get off at the sight. Cillian laps at your pussy, spreading his tongue around your folds, stimulating the sensitive area further.
“Cill, I’m gonna cum again,” you warn, but Cillian just keeps his eyes closed as he sneaks two fingers inside you.
His fingertips brush against your g spot and send you over the edge a third time, and Cillian’s nipping at your clit causes you to gush again. You were slightly embarrassed but incredibly turned on by it. And you know Cillian is relishing in it, literally and figuratively. He pulls away from you, a little reluctantly, and wipes his mouth and face with the back of his arm. You grab his face and pull him into you as he collapses on your naked, heaving chest. You stare at Cillian, the light from the side table’s lamp shining into his eyes just right. They’re returning to an arctic blue as his heart rate calms, his pupils going back to normal size. Cillian stares back at you, studying your features just as you are his. Freckles sprinkle Cillian’s cheeks and nose, dotting along his forehead and chin as well. His lips are red and swollen, and he’s sporting a lopsided smile as he looks at you.
“You’re perfect,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair, “Literally everything you do, say, and how you look is just flawless. Are you sure you aren’t an angel?” you joke.
A smile spreads upon Cillian’s face as his cheeks tinge pink, the warmth traveling to his ears, “I’m not perfect by any means, and no, I’m not an angel,” he says, his accent thick and raspy from the previous exertion.
“Mmm, I’m not sure about that,” you say as CIllian softly kisses your neck.
God, I love you, you want to say. Because you do; you love him. You always have, but sharing such intimate moments with Cillian has just strengthened the feeling you already had. You’re honestly exhausted but still blissed out from Cillian going absolutely feral on you. You have never squirted before, and if you could, you’d let him make you squirt all night. You’d watch as your arousal covers his pretty face, delighting him much like it did earlier. Cillian looked like a kid in a candy store as you gushed for him.
“I’ve never squirted before, so,” you mutter, covering your face with your hands, “Yeah, I’d consider that angelic.”
“Really?” Cillian asks incredulously, “Never? Not even by yourself?”
“Especially not by myself,” you chuckle, uncovering your face to look at Cillian, “You’re better than any vibrator or dildo I own.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Cillian bites your jaw playfully before reaching down and grabbing the duvet, covering the both of you with it.
He rolls off you, much to your dismay. But he immediately pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly with his arms as if you’ll disappear. Cillian slides a leg between yours, his knee pressed against you softly. He rubs his nose against your ear, “Still wet, pretty?”
“Shut up,” you mutter shyly, burying your face in his arms.
“Only if you make me,” Cillian teases you, nipping at your earlobe.
You groan, “Too tired,” you feel Cillian’s hand travel down your navel to gauge how wet you still are, “I don’t think I can move.”
“Who said you had to move?” Cillian asks, pulling your thigh up until your leg is draped over his hip, spreading you open for perfect access.
Before you can ask him to touch you, Cillian lines his length up with your still-needy cunt. You’re surprised you had any remainder of horniness left in you. But there’s something about Cillian that naturally turns you on. You’ve noticed it’s gotten more intense now that he’s your sexual partner. It’s like you can’t get enough of him, and he can’t get enough of you, either. Cillian nudges his tip into you before letting it glide in without a hitch. The way you’re laying makes the angle at which he’s inside of you feel irresistible. You let Cillian play with your still-sensitive clit as his hips snap into your ass. His hot, heavy breath is in your ear as he fucks you slowly. You toss your arm behind you, grabbing the back of Cillian’s neck for leverage as you turn your head around. His lips meet yours hungrily, and he swallows your guttural moans as you fuck yourself on his cock. Cillian’s other hand snakes from underneath you, his fingers wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t press them into your skin but lets them rest there, almost possessively.
You’ve been exploring each other’s bodies ever since the first night you had sex- trying different angles and positions. But you told Cillian that you didn’t want anything rough. That was reserved for a romantic relationship. Cillian felt a twinge of hurt in his chest when you said that, as if you had meant you weren’t planning on a romantic relationship with him specifically. But he understood and respected your boundaries despite his weird sadness about not being able to do certain things with you. Cillian thought it odd because you were not his, so he had no right to hurt you consensually or mark you as his. So, he shouldn’t be so upset about it. Yet he is because he wants you to trust him with everything you have, and he wants to take care of you after the roughness. Cillian wants you to be taken care of. But he knows his limits and that he can’t break the rules of the friends-with-benefits situation. So Cillian doesn’t choke you during sex, or slap you, or kiss you outside the bedroom- especially in public. He bites his tongue every time you do something that melts his heart. He refrains from saying those three little words every day. Cillian has no idea how much you wished he would break the rules just once or how you wished he’d say he loves you.
Something comes over you, though. You reach a hand up and cover Cillian’s that is on your neck and press his fingers into the sides of your throat. You sigh contently as your head becomes cloudy from the lack of blood flow to your head. Cillian stops rubbing your clit and takes your hand from over his, slipping his fingers between yours and pinning it in front of you.
You whimper in detest, and Cillian nips at the skin behind your ear, “Naughty thing. Don’t break your own rules, sweetheart.”
You sigh in defeat, but before you can pout, a moan rips through your chest. Cillian pushed your clave up into your thigh, thus making it easier for him to ram his cock against your cervix in a way that sends stars floating across your vision. Your hand squeezes his as you feel your release creeping up.
“I’m gonna cum,” you whisper, watching as Cillian’s length moves in and out of you quickly.
It was erotic yet romantic, him being so close to you and inside you. You and Cillian are now one, but you wish things were different.
“Good,” Cillian kisses the back of your neck, his nose drawing circles in your skin delicately.
You breathe deeply, feeling your stomach clench. You cry out Cillian’s name as you unravel, his fingers pressing to your clit. Your body trembles and shakes as he continues his assault on the bundle of nerves, still chasing after his own high as he keeps thrusting into you. Your back arches, toes curling as another wave of pleasure hits you.
“You’re doing so good, angel,” Cillian praises in your ear, “Taking my cock so well. I’m almost there, just hold on.”
The feeling of Cillian exploding inside you sends you over the edge for the third and final time. Stars erupt behind your eyelids, your body convulsing from pleasure. Your pussy clenches around him as he rides out his orgasm, panting in your ear. He almost doesn’t hear you say it. Almost.
“Fuck, I love you,” you whine quietly.
You gasp, immediately realizing what’s slipped from your mouth in a shroud of cloudy pleasure. But you hide your gasp as you catch your breath, inhaling and exhaling sharply. You pray to whatever is out there that Cillian didn’t hear you proclaim your feelings in a vulnerable moment.
Cillian grunts as he pulls out of you, letting your leg go limp and relax back on the bed. He keeps his hand entangled with yours. But you pull your grasp out of his, turning around and facing him. You hurriedly bury your face in his chest so you can’t look at him and see how he’s possibly reacting to your words. Cillian wordlessly wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him. You fight the urge to cry at the silence of the dimly lit room as Cillian tugs the duvet over your sweaty, naked bodies. You try and steady your breath and keep your heart from racing.
“Can you say it again?” Cillian finally asks after several minutes of dead silence.
You lift your head from his chest, looking at him confused, “Say what?”
Cillian looks at you seriously before lifting his hand to touch your face gingerly, “What you said a moment ago.”
“You didn’t hear that, did y-”
“I did. But I want you to say again.”
Tears brim your eyes as you feel heaviness in your chest- will he make fun of you? Did you just ruin everything?
You let out a choked sob, hiding your face in his neck, “I love you. I fucking love you. There, I said it,” you slam your fist against his chest. “Feel free to hate me, but it’s true.”
“I could never hate you, gorgeous,” Cillian pulls away from you, his hands grabbing your cheeks so you’re looking directly at him.
His eyelashes flutter against your cheekbones, much like they did the first time you kissed him weeks ago. You blink away your tears, but Cillian wipes them away with his thumbs.
“I love you too,” Cillian confesses, “I love you so much. You know that?”
Your lips tremble as you nod, but Cillian presses his forehead against yours, and you try to ground yourself. He loves you. Cillian loves you back. Cillian kisses your lips gently as if he’d break you. You grasp his hair, kissing him back passionately.
“I love you,” you say, pulling away from his lips and kissing his eyelids instead.
“I love everything about you,” you brush your lips across his cheeks, then kiss his nose, “Your angel kisses. Your beautiful eyes. Everything about you. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re perfect.”
Cillian laughs, and you melt at his smile.
“You,” Cillian says, “Are everything to me. Everything that brings me joy, everything that makes me happy.”
You wrap your arms around Cillian’s neck, pulling him close to you as you tuck your face into his neck.
“Never let go,” Cillian says, his arms snaking around your waist and holding you close.
“I won’t,” you say, a heaviness lifting from your chest at last, “I never will.”
In which your breeding kink comes to light and causes a night full of undying pleasure with your boyfriend, Cillian.
warnings: smut, breeding kink, nipple play, kind of mentions the idea of breastfeeding (not by Cillian lol), biting, choking, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), pussy slapping, dirty talk, fingering, tongue-fucking
word count: 2039
author’s note: warning I didn't read this after I wrote it so if it flows weird or has repetition or anything, I'm sorry lol I just needed to post this for ya'll!! please reblog/ like or comment if you enjoyed it, I love feedback <3
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Your head is in CIllian’s lap, his fingers carding through your hair gently as the two of you watch a movie. The lighting is dim, candles are lit throughout the living room, and an almost empty bottle of wine sits on the coffee table. You’ve got a slight buzz, and Cillian’s massaging of your scalp is making you dizzier. Kids run and play in the movie you’re watching, and suddenly, a thought pops into your head and comes straight out of your mouth.
“I want kids someday.”
You freeze, holding your breath for Cillian’s response.
You feel a hum rumble through your boyfriend as he continues to play in your hair, “Really?”
“Yeah,” you say, rolling over on your back so your face was toward the ceiling, “I mean, maybe.”
“It’s life-changing. It can be rough, but it’s a beautiful experience raising children,” Cillian admits, looking down at you.
The thought of mothering Cillian’s children sends chills across your body and warmth in your belly. You know he’s probably content with his two sons and couldn’t possibly want more children, but the mere idea of him cumming in you with a purpose turns you on. You have a breeding kink but have yet to bring it up to Cillian, as it’s a risky type of kink. Even though the two of you are in a committed and established relationship, neither of you has ever brought up the topic of having kids together. And going through with the breeding aspect of the kink entails the possibility of pregnancy. At this point in your partnership, though, you don’t bother using protection anymore as you trust each other wholeheartedly. Birth control is still used, however. You don’t have to have kids, of course, but the carnal need to be filled up by someone you love deeply is thrilling to think about.
“I know you’re well past wanting any more kids,” you say, looking Cillian in his enthralling eyes, “So it’s not something I think about too often.”
“I’m open to the idea, but if this is something you really want, we should definitely discuss it,” Cillian says, tracing his thumb along your jawline.
“It’s more or so the process of having kids that has always intrigued me,” you purse your lips, trying to think of how to get your desires across to him.
“You mean sex?” Cillian chuckles, “This sure is an interesting way of asking.”
You roll your eyes, smacking his stomach lightly, “Yes, but that’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
You sit upright, moving over to straddle CIllian’s lap before grabbing his face and kissing him deeply.
Pulling an inch away from his lips, you press yourself into him, “I want you to fuck a baby into me.”
“But-”
“I want you to breed me like an animal in heat,” you whisper, dragging your thumb across Cillian’s bottom lip, “Fill me up with your cum.”
Cillian clears his throat, “I think I know what you’re hinting at here.”
“And?” you search his eyes for any inkling of distaste.
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, my love,” Cillian shakes his head, snaking his arms around your waist as he stands up.
You wrap your arms and legs around him as he kisses you again, teeth clashing against yours. He nearly bumps you into the wall on the way to the bedroom, but you’re too focused on the feeling of Cillian’s mouth and his tongue lapping yours to really care. Finally arriving in the bedroom, Cillian drops you on the bed on your back, dragging you to the edge of the mattress by your ankles. You let out a squeal as he does so, giddiness shrouding you. The bedroom basks in soft light from the nightstand lamp, bringing out Cillian’s taut facial features. He focuses his weight on his hands, which are pressed into the bed at the sides of your head. He hovers over you, his icy blue eyes now darker around his blown pupils.
“A breeding kink, hmm?” Cillian smirks, leaning into your ear, “That’s hot. Good thing I’m into it as well.”
Shivers promptly cover your body in goosebumps as Cillian nips the shell of your left ear, sliding his tongue across your earlobe before taking it into his mouth. He bites it gently before pressing his lips to where your jaw meets your neck, cascading kisses along your skin. Your arms find themselves wrapped around Cillian’s shoulders as he travels to your neck with his searing lips. He then bites and sucks bruises on the column of your throat, marking you as his. Removing your sleep shirt, Cillian finds you have already shed your bra at some point in the evening. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he stares at your breasts, eyes hungry for you. Cillian then puts all his weight onto your abdomen, moving both his hands from around your head to grasp at your chest. He caresses his index fingers over your nipples, exhaling a satisfied laugh when they perk up immediately. Cillian dives his head down, taking your right nipple between his lips and slowly flicking his tongue across the sensitive bud. You groaned, unable to squeeze your legs together for friction as Cillian’s chest was between them. The other nipple is being lightly pinched, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. He continues focusing on your breasts, gradually getting rougher and harder with twists and bites.
“Wanna see your beautiful tits swollen with milk,” Cillian mutters, leaving bite marks on the skin around your areola.
His words cause you to become wetter, your hips involuntarily thrusting into Cillian’s, “Fuck, Cill.”
He massages your breasts, squeezing them and pushing them upward as he plays with your nipples.
“Need you to touch me, please,” you whine, your chest becoming sensitive.
Cillian moves down to your stomach, kissing and swirling his tongue around your belly button, “Gonna make your stomach nice and big with my baby.”
Cillian pulls down your lounge pants, tossing them to the floor. He grabs your hips, his thumbs anchoring you to the mattress as his breath fans across your damp underwear.
“So wet for me already? Ready to take me and let me fill you up?” Cillian nips at the skin of your thighs, his eyes not moving from yours.
“Yes,” you whimper, unable to wiggle your hips from his grip on them, “Need you inside me.”
“Need to prep you first, love,” Cillian kisses the wet spot of your underwear before pulling them off.
His tongue licks a fat stripe from your entrance to your swollen bundle of nerves, his beautiful lips encircling it as he lightly sucks it between his teeth. You can’t help but let out a deep moan at the contact, impatiently wishing he’d fuck you with either his fingers or his cock already. But of course, Cillian loves to tease and take all you have to offer before giving you what you want. He releases your clit, now focusing on your soaking entrance as he laps up your arousal there, pushing his tongue inside you. Cillian moves your hips upward so his tongue delves deeper into you, causing your toes to curl. Suddenly, a finger slides in underneath his tongue, exploring your g spot. You tremble at the feeling as pleasure courses through your veins. Then, Cillian adds another digit as he begins to fuck you with his fingers and tongue simultaneously. You thrust your hips as his free hand guided you to mercilessly ride his tongue and two middle fingers. You can feel the pressure of an orgasm creeping up on you, but you don’t want to cum yet.
“I need you inside of me,” you struggle to speak, your mind cloudy with lust.
Cillian slowly removes himself from your needy pussy, and you can feel yourself clench around nothing. He takes off his shirt, followed by his lounge pants and underwear. His length is hard against his stomach, leaking and ready for you.
“On your hands and knees, darling,” Cillian orders, and you hurry to the top of the bed, hugging a pillow as you lean down and jut your ass in the air.
Cillian flattens his hand on your shoulder blades, running his palm along your spine until it reaches your ass, where he gently squeezes. He spreads you open with both hands and your arousal glistens in the moody light of the bedroom.
“Soaked and ready for this cock, huh?” Cillian pushes your back down even further until your chest and abdomen are flush with the bed.
“Yes, sir,” you say, quivering with anticipation.
Cillian aligns himself with your core, sliding his head along your wetness, gathering enough for him to push in slowly without struggle. Your walls clench around him tightly as he inches into you. Finally, Cillian’s hips are against your ass, and he pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in.
“Fuck,” you sneer, fingernails digging into the pillow.
“Taking me so well,” Cillian grunts, slamming into you again, “Gonna slam my cock into your womb and fill it up with my cum.”
You whine into the pillowcase as his rhythm increases, your body rutting into the mattress. Suddenly, a slap lands on your cunt, causing you to jolt and clench harder around Cillian’s length.
“That feel good?” Cillian leans over you, his face now next to yours, “You’re so wet, I can feel you gushing around me.”
You moan loudly into the pillow as he pounds into your cervix, his head dragging along your g spot flawlessly with every thrust. Cillian slaps your clit over and over with the same rhythm as his thrusts, making you cry out. He grabs a fistful of your hair as he sits back up, pulling your head from the safety of the plush pillow.
“I wanna hear you, sweetheart. I wanna hear you take my cock like the cum-hungry slut you are,” Cillian says, pulling your hair harshly.
“God, fuck,” you scream as he thrusts particularly deep inside you, “I’m your slut. I need you to cum in me, Cill. So bad,” you whimper.
His pace becomes relentless, his hips snapping into your asscheeks forcefully as he takes you from behind. But he then pulls out, lets go of your hair, and flips you over on your back, and you nearly scream from frustration at the sudden emptiness. Cillian wastes no time pulling your legs onto his shoulders and rentering you, grabbing your hips and pulling them forward so he can fuck you as deep as possible. He slaps your sensitive and red clit again, over and over, before reaching his hand around your neck. He squeezes the sides of your throat, dizzying you as he slams his cock into your cervix almost violently. You were definitely going to be sore tomorrow.
“I’m gonna cum,” you gasp as Cillian grasps your breasts, harshly pulling and twisting your hard nipples.
“Do you want me to finish fucking this baby into you? Gonna milk my cock as you cum and feel me fill you up to the brim> Is that what you want?”
“Yes, please! Please, fuck, fill me up, Cillian. I need you so bad,” you moan, throwing your head back.
“Fuck,” Cillian growls, snapping his hips up, hitting you at a new and delicious angle.
It doesn’t take long for you to orgasm, as Cillian gives you one last particularly harsh slap to your clit before rubbing it vigorously. He soon follows with his own, his warm seed filling you as your walls milk him for every drop. Cillian runs his hand down your body until he pulls out, arousal and cum seeping out of you. He gathers some on his fingers before shoving them into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his digits, tasting a hint of yourself mixed with CIllian’s cum.
“Did you want me to take my pill tonight?” you say after catching your breath and letting Cillian collapse beside you.
“Only if you want to,” he says, “But I think we’d have a beautiful child.”
You chuckle before rolling on your side and tossing your arm over his warm chest, “That we would.”
dark dilf delinquent season cillian lusting after the new neighbors daughter; who not so coincidentally has a penchant for undressing with her curtains open 🫣 & sneaking in guys who kinda (definitely) maybe resemble cillian? from her club nights 😭
he’s dark & like kinda pathetic but we love him anyway
i feel like this is too specific but I can’t get the thought out of my head 🥲
it is very specific but I'm not mad, and I love writing a pervert <3 but a dilf AND a pervert?! yes please!! obviously I love this concept cause I went a liiiiitle overboard with it, oops...
length: 3.3k
warnings: m and f masturbation, voyeurism, slightly dark but not very much, unspecified age gap, infidelity
When it first started, he really was just trying to read. It wasn't his fault that the book was boring, or that your curtains were open, or that he caught a glance of you in your window.
It was innocent then, too— he liked watching you do normal things, like put on jewelry or laugh on the phone with a friend. It made him smile... he wasn't sure why, but it just made him feel a little better after a long day, seeing you up there, reminiscing on his younger days as he got a distant view of yours...
But it had been months since it started, and it was far from innocent now. He'd become an expert at compartmentalizing the shame; he'd become addicted to the cycle, to the watching and the waiting and the sick anticipation— not to mention the fear that someday, you'd notice him watching. The fear, and yet, the hope.
"Fuck," he panted under his breath as he wanked himself— not too fast yet, but certainly much faster than the slow and teasing strokes he liked to start off with. You were taking off your shirt, pulling it over your head and folding your arms in that crazy origami way girls do that he'd never totally understood; he bit his lip as his eyes dragged over your back, trying to imagine how it would feel to run his fingers up your spine until you arched it just right—
He heard the kids yell downstairs and he stopped for a second, heart pounding with nervousness as he feared they might come up and knock at the door. He used to only do this when they were gone... but he couldn't pass up an opportunity like this, a perfect view of you stripping in the window.
The noises stopped and his movements started again, fisting his cock with a stifled groan as you reached behind your back and undid the clasp; even having seen your tits probably a dozen times by now, his mouth was slack and dry in anticipation of you turning around and letting him see them again.
You teased him for a while longer, messing with your hair and stretching your arms up until he found himself mumbling between panting breaths: c'mon, baby, show me— lemme see, sweetheart, fuck, please...
Sort of like willing a stoplight to turn green, it's obviously not possible but it will work at some point: you turned and faced the window, your eyes shut with a sigh as you started to open your jeans. He had to grip his cock's leaking head tight just then, too overwhelmed with the view of your breasts— he was afraid to come too soon.
He'd never had to hold himself back like this before, never delayed his gratification— because, normally, it's totally antithetical to the point of masturbation. He only ever jerked off for the gratification, and he only ever watched porn to help get there a little faster... but you, you were so much better than porn. The thrill of doing something wrong, the longing of knowing you (if not very well) in real life, the lack of control over you and being, in a sense, at your mercy as you undressed as slow as you wanted... it was all just terribly erotic. And he refused to let himself come until you let him see a little more.
You slid your jeans down your legs and he actually bit his lip, just to muffle his moan. "Yes," he whispered to himself, cock pulsing in his grip as he watched you step out of them, turning around to lay them over your bed— and giving him the perfect view of your ass in those cute cotton panties as you did it. "Fuck," he grunted, twisting his hand over his tip and feeling his hips jerk instinctively— he couldn't think of the last time he was so sensitive. "See what you do to me?" he chuckled to himself— he wished you could see it, but then again, he had his lights off in the room for a reason. All you could see was a dark window, and for now, he preferred to keep it that way.
You laid back on your bed, looking relaxed and contented as you ran your hand down over yourself— fuck, is she about to--?
You slipped your hand into your panties, and he tilted his head back with a heavy sigh, only allowing himself a second to shut his eyes as his balls tightened up, threatening to blow it all right then and there. He'd never actually seen you touch yourself before— though he had seen you take a vibrator out of your bedside drawer and, infuriatingly, go to take a shower where you presumably got to use it with complete privacy. The image in his head had been plenty to get off on that night, but seeing you now as your fingers moved under the thin fabric, your lips opening for what he hoped was a quiet little moan? It was almost too much to bear.
You spread your legs a bit, the angle giving him a hint of a view of what you were doing; he sat up in the chair, leaning to the side a bit, desperate for a better look at how you were touching yourself. Were you just rubbing your clit, or were you going to put a finger or two inside? "Baby," he panted to himself, watching your tits get harder as your hand moved, "baby... y-yeah, just like that, fuck..."
The sight of you playing with yourself was just too beautiful; he had to keep reminding himself to shut his mouth so he wouldn’t make too much noise, but then it would just fall right back open again as you arched your back.
“Feels good?” he noticed, raking his gaze over every sign of your pleasure. “Tell me how good it feels…”
He wanted to imagine your voice, then, the way you’d respond to him: feels so good, Cill. You’d never actually called him that, you always called him Mr. Murphy. He tried not to acknowledge how much that turned him on, but anyways, he couldn’t conjure your voice in his head anyways. He hadn’t spoken to you in weeks, not since you’d babysat for him and his wife… he tried not to acknowledge how much that turned him on, either.
Seemingly out of nowhere, you took your hand out of your panties and expanded your cheeks with a big sigh; he knit his eyebrows together, watching you roll over and grab your phone off of the nightstand by your bed. His sicker side instantly assumed you were going to find some porn to watch, but your lackadaisical attitude about the whole thing made it seem more like you’d had a sudden mid-masturbation urge to check Instagram. Kids and their phones, he thought to himself, even though you were far from a kid— he was just much, much further from one than you were, is all…
And, this should come as no surprise by now… that turned him on too. He’d come to be weirdly fascinated by his own perversion, finding it just as shameful as he did sexy.
His phone vibrated on the desk and his screen lit up— he wasn't going to answer it at first, nothing was more important than watching you right now... but then it went off again. He looked at it and back at you, seeing you getting up suddenly and walking around the room... surely you hadn't come already? It certainly didn't look like it.
Even though he couldn't imagine why you'd stopped so abruptly, he figured it was a good opportunity to make sure the messages weren't important. He awkwardly got up and grabbed his phone, feeling a bit strange about walking around with his jeans open and his erection poking out. Unlocking his phone to read whatever was sent, he felt a massive sigh leave his chest as if the wind had been knocked out of him.
He never even saved your number, but he recognized the previous conversation you'd had-- just a few texts back and forth about a little backyard gathering your parents were having, and some question about when you needed to come over to watch the kids, but you usually messaged his wife about that kind of stuff. But since he’d committed those brief conversations to memory, it took him only a split-second to know it was you— and, obviously, seeing that you'd just texted him, he thought his heart might just stop right then. He had to blink some blurriness out of his vision to even read them, with how fast the damn thing was beating.
hi mr. murphy.
turn on the lamp on the desk.
He whipped his head around to look back at you, only to find you smiling around a bitten lower lip, staring right into his window. Fuck. Fuck!
He set his phone down, not sure what to do— and quickly locking the screen as he realized you’d probably seen the glow of it. He groaned softly again as he watched you sit down on your bed again, facing directly towards him, those pretty legs spreading nice and slow as your hand moved over your panties again. Fuck.
He felt like he was in a dream or something as he flipped on the lamp— maybe it was an out of body experience. If he was out of his own body, he at least knew whose he wanted to get into: he never took his eyes off you as he slowly walked back to his chair, sitting back down in it and meeting your half-lidded gaze as you tossed your phone away and used your free hand to toy with one of your hard nipples. “Fuck,” he said aloud this time, seeing your eyes trail down to his cock— it was still out, of course, sticking up proudly against the black shirt covering his stomach. Maybe it was proud, but he was a little bit terrified, his face getting hot as he snatched the throw pillow nearby to cover himself with; he saw you laugh, sighing through his nose dreamily as he wished he could hear the sweet sound of it, and then shake your head with a grin.
You stood up then, turning around and bending over as you ever-so-slowly pulled your panties down, making him purr as he got a thorough look at your bare ass. You looked too damn good bent over like that— what he would give to stand behind you, pushing your shoulders down with one hand as he gave that cute arse a good spank with the other—
He saw you looking back at him, a proud smirk on your face; “Dirty girl,” he scolded under his breath, watching you stand up straight and sit on the bed again.
Your legs were pressed tightly together, and when he look up to your eyes, he found them focusing on the pillow in his lap; you met his gaze again, a pink tongue darting gently over your lips. A silent promise: I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. With the way it made his heart pound and his palms clammy, he felt like a schoolboy all over again.
He grabbed the pillow and slowly moved it away, your legs opening at the same pace in perfect time with it; he groaned through a tight jaw as he stared at your pussy, one of your hands running down to spread the sticky lips even wider for him. “Fuck,” he moaned, holding onto his cock tightly again as he felt totally helpless to the sight of it, unable to look away. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he mumbled, starting to stroke himself as you bit your lip again and rubbed your clit with two fingers— the nails still had that baby pink polish, the one he’d watched you paint on a few nights ago. Why was something as simple as that so sexy?
Your mouth fell open, and your head tilted back; he tried to imagine how you’d sound, your sweet voice a little darker and deeper with pleasure. You rubbed yourself a little faster, a little harder, and he felt his lips curl into a sneer.
“Good girl, like that,” he panted, “play with it for me. Play with that cute little cunt— f-fuck, yes—”
You looked at him again, eyes glued to his cock, and he felt it flex in his grip as if it wanted to wave to you; he saw you smile, an oddly sweet smile for something so dirty, and he watched your fingers slide down to your tiny, seeping opening. He nodded in encouragement, watching your face fall into a shockingly innocent gasp as you slid a finger into yourself.
“Yes, baby,” he moaned, “y-yeah, s’it warm inside, sweetheart? Bet you’re so fucking tight, baby, I know your pussy is so goddamn tight—”
You pumped the single finger in and out, head falling back for a moment, and he squeezed his cock tight again to try to hold back another close call— he’d feel pretty stupid coming so fast with you watching, but he’d been doing this a lot longer than you had… fuck, how long had you known he was watching you?
Your mouth opened wider as you pushed another finger into yourself, and his hips shifted roughly in the chair, his hand moving faster as he growled. “Fuck, it’s not enough, is it?” he hissed. “Two little fingers isn’t enough— you need my cock, fuck, you need my fuckin’ cock— I’d fill you so good, sweetheart, I’d be so fuckin’ deep inside you—”
He was almost bucking up into his own hand now, his whole body suddenly pulsing with energy— it was a good thing you weren’t here now, even if he wanted it more than anything: he would’ve treated you awfully if he could’ve gotten his hands on you, fucking you hard and rough, tossing you around, pinning you down… he needed you so bad, he couldn’t imagine having the patience for anything but one of those nasty, fast, rough, animalistic fucks. He’d fucking ruin you right now, if he could.
You were rough about it, too— roughly pinching and tugging on your tits, roughly fucking yourself on your fingers… you even pulled your hand out and gave your clit a little smack at one point, and he choked on his loudest moan yet as your body jolted.
“Dirty fucking slut,” he growled, “fuck, come for me. Please, baby, I need to come, I need to fuckin’ come—”
You were saying something, obviously he couldn’t hear a damn word of it, but the shape of your lips made him pretty damn sure you were chanting over and over: yes, yes, yes—
“Come, baby,” he begged, knowing he couldn’t hold himself back much longer, “let me see— show me how you come, sweetheart, show me that pretty face when you come on your fucking fingers— soak them, honey, come for me—”
You were shaking all over, legs quivering and tits bouncing with the force of it— you pulled your fingers out and he could fucking see it, see that cute little hole flexing, and obviously he was done for pretty much instantly. He moaned roughly as hot ropes of come painted his shirt, rolled down his shaft and shaking fingers, one drop even finding its way down his balls which was sort of pleasantly ticklish…
You looked so gorgeous coming like that, your hand and pussy all shiny with your arousal, your eyes heavy and your lips swollen from all the biting… he blinked quickly as he tried to catch his breath, letting go of his slowly-softening cock and leaning back into the chair. You smiled at him; funny how, even now, that could make his heart skip. He watched you stand up and wiggle your fingers in a cute little wave at him as you approached the window, and his tired smile fell quickly when you reached for the curtains. “N-no, don’t go,” he pleaded softly, leaning forward as if he could stop you somehow, “please, wait—”
You slid them shut suddenly, and he whined a little as he fell back into the chair, running his (clean) hand over his face as he contemplated what he’d just done. When his phone vibrated again, he jumped up to grab it, but frowned in disappointment when he saw it was from his wife. Be home in a few, please come help with the groceries.
He tried to type a quick reply, only to grimace when he realized how filthy his hand was. He wiped it off on his shirt— but his shirt was filthy, too. Sighing, he set the phone down and took the whole thing off, balling it up to toss into the hamper, leaving him in just his undershirt.
Going straight back to his phone, he opened the conversation with you, praying to see that little grey bubble pop up or something; he started to type a few times, things like will I see you tomorrow? or come over next time the house is empty, but he always felt like an idiot and ended up erasing it. He didn’t get a chance to think of a good thing to send before he heard a car pulling up in the driveway. Shoving the phone in his pocket, he sighed and made his way downstairs, navigating around the pillow fort in the living room to get out the front door.
“Just help me with the bags in the boot, will you?” she asked him, not even looking at him, as she rifled through whatever was in the backseat. He opened it, sighing as he looked at them. Nothing like a bunch of brown bags to bring you back to reality.
His eyes widened when he heard his wife say your name, and he poked his head around the car to see you standing there, wearing a zip-up and leggings. “Good evening, Mrs. Murphy,” you smiled, and he figured he looked like a deer in the headlights— if a deer could hold a paper sack full of pasta and biscuits— as your gaze fell on him. “Hi, Mr. Murphy.”
He opened his mouth to try to respond, but nothing really came out; “Looks like you’re going for a run,” his wife noticed, saving him for the time being as your attention turned to her again.
“Yeah,” you nodded, “figured I could use some exercise.”
He cleared his throat, just a way to try to fight the lump forming in it, but it unintentionally caused both women to look at him again— once again, he found himself uselessly floundering for a response, and only getting out a soft ‘er’ before you said something.
“Aren’t you cold in just a t-shirt, Mr. Murphy?” you asked him, tilting your head.
“It’s fine,” he choked out, “I was feeling kind of hot anyway.”
You smiled at him, then waved goodbye to his wife as you pushed your earbuds in and continued walking down the street— you were acting so innocent that he started to feel like he’d dreamed up the whole thing.
She probably saw him staring, watching you jog down the sidewalk, that ass looking terribly familiar covered by the athletic leggings; but she didn’t say anything, only shutting the car boot to get his attention as he finally carried the paper sacks into the house. "She's sweet, isn't she?" she broke the moment of silence as they walked up the driveway together.
“I-I guess,” he tried to sound as non-committal as possible.
“You don’t think so?” she pressed, apparently noticing his cryptic answer.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “maybe she’s not as sweet as she looks.”
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