#michael kinsella smut

[bellaxgiornata]

First Thing in the Morning

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; nothing but soft and smutty Michael in the morning

Summary: Michael wakes you up with one thing clearly on his mind.

a/n: This is literally just smut and I think for once I managed to keep the plot out of things! Also Reader doesn't have my attempt at an Irish accent in this one. Feedback is always appreciated!

Michael Kinsella one shot tag list: @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @shiorimakibawrites @wkndwlff @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @sunflower-tia @kezibear

You felt your mind sluggishly waking, pulling you from the deep sleep you’d been peacefully enjoying after your previous late night, drawing you back to consciousness. Very slowly you felt your body following along after, a faint, muffled groan vibrating in the back of your throat as you stirred awake. 

With your eyes still closed, it took your brain a moment to process your surroundings, everything coming to you one at a time. The soft early morning bird call outside the bedroom window, the warmth of the blankets you were snuggly tucked beneath, and the large hand snaking its way down the length of your bare thigh. 

“Mmm,” you hummed out, stirring further awake.

Behind you, you felt the bed shift as Mikey scooted closer to you on the mattress. His lips were on your bare shoulder the second he settled, placing a lingering kiss there as your eyelids gradually fluttered open. Sunlight was trickling in through the curtains, swathing the room in a gentle, golden glow. You couldn't help the tired smile that grew on your lips when Michael's mouth pulled away from your skin, the warm caress of his breath dancing down your exposed back. 

Michael was often affectionate like this first thing in the morning, especially when neither of you had anywhere to be. Morning cuddles with him were some of your favorite moments, always making it so difficult for you to finally leave the bed and start your day. Many times you'd contemplated never leaving it, either, and just keeping him all to yourself wrapped up in the cozy sheets.

“G'mornin’, love,” he murmured against your bare shoulder.

The tinge of sleep coating his voice had a pleasant tingle racing up your spine. You knew that tone of voice though, especially with the way his hand was currently kneading at the muscle of your thigh. 

“Morning, Mikey,” you croaked back, still partially awake yourself. “Been up long?”

“No,” he answered, his mouth moving just a bit before it brushed another light kiss over your shoulder. “But long enough.”

His hand slid to the inside of your thigh, sensually gliding its way upwards until you felt the faintest brush of the back of his fingers against your clothed center. Your back arched involuntarily at his touch as his hand continued to massage the muscle beneath it, his nose running back and forth in a line along the length of your shoulder now, his beard lightly tickling you. Your eyes fell shut again, a soft, contented sigh spilling out of you. 

“How'd ya sleep, pet,” he murmured.

“Good,” you answered, focused on the feel of his hand once more on the move. “You?”

“Mmm, grand,” he purred, his hand running back down your thigh. “Woke up with ya on my mind though.”

You giggled softly into your pillow, Michael's hand dragging deliciously back up to your hip where he began leisurely kneading it. Goosebumps dotted the flesh along your arms, your body growing even further awake under his attentive touches.

“I can see that, Mikey,” you told him. 

His hand gripped your hip tight before you felt shifting along the bed again. He'd drawn his hips all the way forward, pressing the front of his body against the back of yours. There was an unmistakable bulge now wedged between your ass, your heart rate spiking at the feel of it. Still holding your hips in place with his hand, you felt him grind himself against your ass with a soft, pleased hum. Your cunt immediately stirred awake next at the sound.

“D'ya see what ya do to me, pet?” he whispered, grinding his cock into your ass again. “Ya drive me fuckin’ mad for ya. Got me wantin’ ya first thing in the mornin’.” 

Bottom lip rolling between your teeth, a shudder raced down your body at his raspy morning voice filled with heat and desire. You felt his hand moving again, this time gliding its way over your stomach and slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. His hand continued its ascent upwards until his palm cupped an entire mound of your breast. He gave it a gentle but firm squeeze and dampness began to form between your thighs, your blood immediately rushing southward. 

“Fuck, Mikey,” you breathed. 

An amused breath brushed over your ear, his mouth now hovering beside it. “I can if ya like, love,” he whispered. “Was kinda hopin’ for that this mornin’.”

You tried to shift in his arms towards him, desperate to run your hands along his bare chest and back, but the strong arm he had wrapped around you tightened, holding you in place as he continued to massage your breast. A frustrated groan left you before his fingers found your nipple, gently tugging at the quickly stiffening peak. 

“ Michael ,” you complained, struggling against his hold. “Come on.”

His lips grazed the shell of your ear as he chuckled lightly beside it. His warm breath fell down the back of your neck, the feel of it raising the hair there.

“Relax, let me just appreciate ya for a minute, love. Always in such a rush,” he teased.

His tongue delicately swiped along the length of your ear next and your eyes snapped shut instantly. Moments later his plush lips sucked your earlobe between them, the heat of his mouth causing your thighs to clamp together, your ass pressing back into his erection as your need for him began to rise. 

“Because this isn’t fair,” you shot back, a little breathless. “Maybe I want to touch you, too.”

He hummed in acknowledgement of what you'd said, your earlobe still between his lips. The pleasant vibration had you intentionally grinding back against him again, hoping that would help you change his mind so you could roll over and touch him in return. The way his fingers were deftly toying with your nipple beneath your shirt wasn't helping, either. Then gradually his mouth released your earlobe, his lips grazing your ear with each word when he whispered into it next.

“Let me just touch ya first,” he began, “then I'll let ya do whatever ya want with me.”

His words sent a thrill straight to your cunt. You knew damn well there was nothing more you wanted right now than to climb atop him and ride him until he came undone beneath you. The thought of that only had you growing wetter; you loved watching the sheer look of pleasure written on his face as he lay beneath you while you fucked him.

Michael's lips began placing delicate kisses along your neck, just below your jawline, and that quickly pulled you from the tantalizing mental image in your mind. His hand shifted beneath your shirt, coming to cup your other breast in his palm as you craned your neck, giving his mouth better access to it. The light scratch of his beard along your skin as he began trailing open-mouthed kisses against you had your hands fisting the sheets before you. 

“ Michael ,” you moaned. 

His teeth very subtly nipped at a sensitive bit of flesh and you couldn't fight back the resounding gasp that fell from your lips. You could feel Michael's own mouth draw into a smile against you before he nuzzled his face into your neck, his index finger carefully circling your nipple beneath your shirt. 

“D'ya like that?” he whispered, his other hand landing on your thigh and beginning to massage it again. “D'ya like it when I touch ya, pet?”

You nodded eagerly along the pillow, your cunt begging for attention as your hips squirmed along the mattress. Michael ground his cock into your ass again at the movement, a low groan coming from him. Your breath hitched at the sound, your ignored cunt practically aching with need now. His front was still flush to the back of you, your body feeling like it was on fire everywhere he was pressed against you.

Almost as if he already knew what you needed, his hand made a direct path up your thigh and all the way over until he cupped your core in his palm. A high-pitched, needy whine came from you at the touch, your hips giving a brief jolt before they eagerly pressed back into his hand. 

“Already soaked your panties and I've barely even touched ya,” Michael murmured in satisfaction, his palm beginning to rub against your center. “Ya need me that bad already d'ya?”

“Yes, yes,” you begged, not even embarrassed that you were grinding yourself against his palm. “I want you, Mikey. Let me show you how much.”

A deep growl rumbled out of his chest, the noise beside your ear sending a shiver through you. You fought back a smile at the sound though; you knew you were close to getting your way with him now. 

“ Fuck ,” he cursed. “The things ya do to me, pet.”

A sly grin crossed your lips as you glanced back over your shoulder at him behind you. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his eyes half-lidded as they met yours.

“Let me show you some of the things I can do to you,” you whispered coyly. 

You watched as his own eyes snapped shut at your words, something like a wince tugging at his features. You had him now. 

“Let me take care of you, Mikey,” you continued, squirming in his hold. “You've had a rough week and you’re leaving tomorrow. So let me make you feel better. Let me take care of you this morning.”

His eyes opened, once again meeting yours. He hesitated for a minute, his finger still circling your nipple, and then ever so slowly you felt his arm loosen its hold around you. Not wasting the opportunity, you quickly rolled over on the bed to face him, a triumphant smile on your face as his hand slid over your hip and landed on your ass, the other still inside your shirt grabbing at your breast.

“My turn now, yeah?” you asked.

He drowsily grinned back at you, the sight somehow only working you up further. Without a thought you lunged forward, connecting your mouths in a hungry, needy kiss. Your hand slid its way down his side until it reached the waistband of his boxers. Breaking away from his mouth, your breath coming in sharper, you tugged at the elastic of them.

“I don't think we're going to need these, Mikey,” you whispered. “Take them off for me.”

Michael's hand slipped out of your shirt, both of his hands obliging your demand and beginning to pull his boxers off beneath the sheets. While he did, you quickly slid your own damp underwear off, drawing them down your legs before tossing them out of the sheets and over the side of the bed. When you focused back on Michael, he was grinning again and tugging at your shirt.

“Don't think ya need this either, love,” he teased.

Throwing a leg over his hips, your hands grabbed onto both of his shoulders before you pushed against him. Taking the hint, Michael allowed you to roll him onto his back while you mounted him, straddling his hips. Smiling coyly down at him, your hands released his shoulders long enough to grab the hem of your shirt and pull it up and over your head. You tossed your shirt over the side of the bed before placing your hands back onto his chest.

“Better?” you asked him. 

Running your hands through the thick, dark hair of his chest, you saw him lazily smile up at you. He hummed out an affirmative response as you began to lower yourself down onto him, positioning your cunt more directly onto his cock. His eyelids lowered as a satisfied moan flew from his throat. 

“Hell, pet,” he groaned, his hands gripping tight to your hips and encouraging you to grind back and forth along the length of him. “So damn wet in the mornin’, aren't ya? Feel so good already and I'm not even inside o’ ya.”

Biting your lip, you could feel the throbbing desire of your cunt at his praise already. As much as you wanted to drag things out, you knew you wouldn't be able to resist much longer. More slick was seeping out of your center, coating the underside of his cock as you continued to grind yourself back and forth along him. 

Both of his hands made their way upwards from your hips, fingers delicately gliding up over your ribcage before his hands palmed your breasts once more. He began massaging them, kneading them tenderly in his hands. After a moment he paused, teasingly running the calloused pads of both of his thumbs over both of your nipples simultaneously. Your hips stuttered along him for a second and he gazed up at you smugly from beneath you.

“Someone's reactive this mornin’” he playfully teased, repeating the gesture with his thumbs.

“You know,” you told him a little breathlessly, fighting not to let your eyelids drop closed under the touch, “I don't think you're the one in the position to be doing the teasing here.”

He arched a dark brow at you, the corner of his lip tugging upwards. “Sure ‘bout that, love?” he asked.

Eyes narrowing at his challenge, you began to drag your nails down his chest. He hissed out a pleased noise between his teeth, his head partially rolling back along the pillow. You grinned back at him in satisfaction as your hand continued its way down his torso and towards his cock. Shifting your body out of the way, you grabbed onto the base of him and gave him a few languid pumps, reveling in the way his eyelids fluttered before you ran the head of him between your damp folds. 

“Like I said,” you whispered, “I'm the one taking care of you this morning. Stop getting coy with me, Michael.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you lined up his cock with your entrance and then sunk the tip of him inside of you before he had the chance. Instead of words, you heard him groan something incoherent that had your entire body pleasantly tingling at the sound. Both hands splayed wide over his chest once more, fingers curled into the dark hair there that you loved so much, you braced yourself as you began to gradually lower yourself fully onto him. Both of you simultaneously released noises of pleasure into the bedroom as you did, the girth of him filling you entirely as you finally took him all the way.

“ Fuck I missed you, Mikey,” you whispered. 

Michael's large hands slid around to your back, blunt nails digging into your skin. “I missed ya, too, pet,” he murmured back. “Always do. Always need ya.”

Beginning to move against him, you held his gaze. “Going to be thinking about me while you're out on that job?” you asked. “Will you be missing me then?”

“‘M always wishin’ ya were with me,” he whispered back, his hands tenderly smoothing over your back as you began to fuck him. “Always miss ya when– shit, love –”

The particularly hard roll of your hips forward into him cut him off, his hands halting their loving movements as his fingernails once more dug further into your back. Picking up your pace, you began to bounce along him a little quicker, your hips repeatedly rolling into him over and over as Michael lay beneath you, his face twisted into a look of sheer ecstasy. 

“Always know what you're doin’,” he grunted out, breath coming in heavier. “Know me too damn well.” 

Your hands slid up the expanse of Michael's chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath them as they moved. Eventually they made their way back to his broad shoulders, gripping them firmly in your hold. Michael’s half-lidded eyes were currently roving their way over your naked body atop him, his teeth gnawing on his own lip as his ragged and panting breaths filled the room. He looked so perfect like that beneath you, just letting you ride him until you both got off.

The urge to have more of him hit you hard and fast. Leaning down towards him, you saw Michael’s eyes fly up to meet yours at the movement. As if wanting the same thing, his own head eagerly rose from the pillow, his mouth meeting yours half-way. The kiss was sloppy and full of heat–all wet tongue and muffled groans of pleasure. His hands slid across your back as he kissed you until both of his arms had wrapped around you, your hips beginning to roll more frantically into his own. 

And then his strong arms sharply tugged your body down towards himself, crushing you to him as his mouth swallowed the gasp of surprise that had flown out of you. His arms held you firm to the front of himself, his own hips beginning to buck up into yours and attempting to match your pace. When his cock hit just the right spot deep inside, your mouth released his, a loud moan flying out of you as your eyes briefly rolled back.

“Just like that, pet,” Michael ground out between clenched teeth, your sweat-dampened forehead dropping to rest against his. “Keep fuckin’ me just like ya are. Feel so fuckin’ perfect.”

Encouraged by his words, your nails bit firmly into his shoulders as you felt your own climax quickly approaching. You could feel he was already growing close to his own release with the sudden desperation apparent in his own movements as his hips fucked up into you.  

“I need you to cum for me, Mikey,” you panted out, forehead still pressed to his. “Can you do that for me?”

He loosed a low moan in response that had your cunt tightening around his cock. Shifting atop him, you lowered your mouth beside his ear, nuzzling your nose against his temple as you whispered into it.

“I can tell you’re close,” you purred, breath ragged as you spoke. “Come on baby,” you urged, “fill me.”

“Fuckin’ hell, love, I’m–”

His hips stuttered beneath you, his eyes pinching shut. And then you felt the hot release of him inside of you a few thrusts later, the sound of his pleasured groan loud in the bedroom. The sound of it had your back arching along him, your cunt squeezing around him repeatedly. And then you were falling over the edge of your own release, moaning his name out soon after as your hips unsteadily continued to fuck the pair of you through each of your climaxes.

Gradually you felt yourself coming down moments later, your hips slowly stopping their movements along him. Michael’s head sluggishly rolled along the pillow towards yours as your body collapsed atop his, his cock slowly beginning to soften inside of you. His hands began running soothing patterns along your back as he smiled at you. You sent him a blissful, sleepy smile in return.

“Well g’mornin to you, love,” he said, a glint in his eye.

You bit your lip, giggling as your chest still heaved against his from the morning’s exertion. “Good morning indeed,” you whispered back.

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella smut #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #kin

[peterman-spideyparker]

Nightmares (Michael Kinsella x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I've had this in my drafts for a while, and I have the day off today, so I figured I'd post it. I initially wrote this a a Frank Castle fic, but when I was reading it over after I was done, it really seemed to fit Michael better (again, obsessed with this man, and I've only seen the pilot episode of Kin). I hope you guys enjoy! :)

Summary: One of Michael's deepest fears comes to life in a nightmare, and he turns to you for comfort, needing to ground himself.

Warnings: Graphic nightmare (dead dove do not eat--Michael, Anna, and Reader tied up in the woods, Michael having to choose between you and Anna, violence, guns, Reader death in dream), swearing calming down Michael after a nightmare, smut (kissing, fingering, praise, biting/nibbling, p in v unprotected sex) cuddling, talking about fears

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 2,097

He doesn’t know where he is. His in some sort of forest, dead, brown, fragile leaves below him. He hears crying—these terrified sobs and whines of horror. Michael’s eyes shoot up and see you and Anna on your knees, your arms tied around your back with blinding headlights shining behind you. He looks up and sees a man standing behind you both, but he can’t make out their face. What he can distinctly recognize, though, is the gun in his hand.

“Choose!” a gruff voice shouts above the cries of the two people he loves most in the world.

“Let ‘em go!” Michael shouts, straining against the rope on his wrists. “Yer problem seems t’be with me, eh? So cut me loose and fight me.”

“You need to choose, Michael,” the voice says. Why can’t he see his face?

“Ye want me t’choose? Alright, me! I choose me!” he protests. “That’s who ye have a grudge against, right? So let them go and off me!”

"Choose!"

Leave begin to rustle beneath where you kneel, and Michael’s eyes flit over to you in a panic. You stand, your body shaking and tears streaming down your face. You lock eyes with him and mouth “I love you” before you turn around and face the faceless man.

“Let them go,” you tremble. “Hurt me, but spare them.”

“No!” Michael shouts, desperately trying to burst out of his restraints, but they only get tighter.

“She has the courage that you so frequently lack,” the faceless man says as Michael protests and Anna cries in fear.

“Anna, sweetheart, close your eyes,” you beg, doing your best not to cry. “It’ll be okay.”

“No, hey!” Michael shouts. “Let her go! Take me, instead! ‘M beggin you. Please! Please!”

“You could learn a thing or two from her.”

“Mikey, I love—.”

Michael cries out when his happens, the gunshot echoing deafeningly loud in the forest as you fall lifeless in the leaves in front of him. Blood is smeared on your head, spreading like a crimson sheet around you, and all Michael can do is cry before letting out a terrible scream at the top of his lungs.

He shoots up, finding himself in his bedroom, sheets in his lap and sweat sticking to his skin as his chest heaves for air.

“Michael,” you say gently, and he looks over to you with panicked eyes. You’re okay. You're alive. Here, with him, in his bed. “Mikey, it was just a nightmare. It’s okay. Everything’s alright.” You run a gentle, cool hand down his sweaty, burning skin. “Whatever it was wasn’t real. You’re safe.”

Michael lets out a shaky breath, his bleary eyes looking over your form before he leans in and wraps his arms around you, holding you tight and weeping into the crook of your neck.

“I thought I lost ya,” he weeps. “I can’t loose someone else I love. I-I-I can’t loose ya.”

“Oh, Michael,” you breathe, running your hand down the back of his hair. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

Michael matches his breathing with yours, eventually calming down and pulling back to look at you with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Leaning in, Michael kisses you deeply. He knows you’re here in front of him, but something deeper in him is desperate to know that you’re actually here in his bed, that you’re not dead somewhere in the woods like what he saw in his dream. You accept his embrace for a bit, but you start to pull back as he tries to intensify the kiss.

“Michael,” you whisper. “Is this what you want? Or do you want to talk about it?”

“I can’t have someone take ya from me. I need’ya right now, love,” he mutters. “Please, just let me have this.”

“As long as you’re sure,” you nod, leaning back in for a kiss. When your lips meet again, Michael is more aggressive in his embrace, taking charge of how his lips crash against yours and how his tongue slips in deep to explore. He guides you down on the mattress, his hands squeezing into your body as he kisses you desperately, sure to leave little bruises behind. Michael’s lips explore every inch of flesh that they can find, pulling little whimpers of pleasure from you as he does so. Any other day, Michael would drag his kisses down and spend hours between your legs, but he needs to be close to your face. He needs to see the sparkle in your eyes, the flush of your cheeks, the little lines at the corner of your mouth when you smile at him. Leaning back up, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply and rocking into the mattress. His hands grip the sleep shirt of his that’s on your body, sliding it off and tossing it somewhere to the side. You let out a soft moan as your breasts are exposed to the cool morning air, something that Michael happily dips down to kiss, lick, and suck on the pebbling flesh before moving back up and marking up your neck.

“Mikey!” you squeal breathily when he hits the right spot. Your nails dig into the soft flesh of his back, scratching angry lines down his body. Michael growls by your ear, nipping at the love bite before moving his mouth over yours and slip his tongue into your mouth. “Michael . . . baby!”

“I need ya,” he growls. “I need to bury my cock in that tight cunt of yers. Make those pretty sounds fall from yer mouth, make my name the only thing you can remember, stuff ya full.”

“Michael,” you whine.

“Ye want tha? Want me ta stretch ya full? Want my cum in ya?”

“Fuck, Mikey, yes, please!”

“Atta girl,” he coos. “Usin yer words like tha. Such a fuckin good girl fer me.”

Quickly shoving down his boxers, he pushes down the fabric just enough, giving himself a few pumps to make sure he’s nice and hard for you before sliding his hand up your thigh and grabbing onto your underwear. He yanks them clean off of you before fingering you, getting you ready. You cry out, your back arching as he pumps his fingers in and out to spread your slick around before moving back to fist his cock and spread your essence around.

“Ready, pet?” he pants.

“Yes,” you say breathily. “Yes, please!”

He presses a deep, passionate kiss to your lips, a moan pulling from your throat as his tongue explores your mouth before he slides in. Your lips part from one another’s as you cry out into the bedroom at the top of your lungs. You’re wet, sure, but not as wet as you usually are, so taking Michael is a bit more of a challenge. It feels like a tighter fit, and you can feel every cell between your legs as you stretch and try to take him. Michael feels it too, biting his lip before moving to bite your shoulder, which only makes the volume of your cries go louder. Your fingers sink into his back, leaving little crescent mark brands on his skin.

“Fuckin perfect,” he mutters, soothing the sting of his bite with his tongue and lips. “So tight. Such a nice cunt f’me, gripping my cock like tha.”

“Michael,” you whine.

“Say my name.”

“Michael!”

“Again.”

“Michael!”

“Who d’you belong to?”

“Michael!”

His pace moves from something tender and sensual to brutal and unrelenting, but you let him take what he needs until you’re screaming out so loud that you, him, and his neighbors know you’ll have a sore throat for days. You cum hard around his length, your entire body trembling with your orgasm as your mind goes fuzzy and you desperately cling to his body. Michael is like an animal as he ruts into you, chasing his high as he prolongs yours. The scruff of his bread scratches against your neck, and your hand slides up the back of his head to tug at the soft locks. He twists his head so his lips meet yours once more, full of lust, but intrinsically laced with passion and love. You nuzzle into his embrace and he bites his lip as he begins to feel the muscle in the lower abdomen tighten before he spills into you with a low grunt. You lie there, tangled together as a sweaty mess as you try to catch your breath. Languid, tired kisses are exchanged back and forth, and Michael can’t help but get lost in your sparkling eyes and how much he loves you, seeing that same love reflected back to him.

“You’re squishing me a little, Mikey,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss his nose.

“Oh,” he blushes. “Sorry, pet.”

You lean in for a kiss as he starts to pull out, rolling to the side but keeping you in his arms. You settle perfectly into his side, your hand warm on his chest.

“Are you okay, Michael?” you breathe into the dark bedroom, playing with his chest hair as you rest on one another.

“Awful dream,” he admits after a long silence. “Nightmare in every sense of the word. You . . . Ye died. Right in front of m’eyes, and there was nothin’ I could do ta save ya. I-I had ta choose between you an’ Anna, an’ I was beggin’ whoever it was t’take me instead. You stood up and you sacrificed yerself.”

He draws in a sharp, shaky breath between his teeth as you hold him tight.

“Baby, I’m,” you start, and you sound like you’re on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

“I think about it all the time,” he continues. “Ways the both of ye could just be taken from me. What I’d do. How I’d live without either of ya, and . . .” He can’t even fathom a reality where you’re both not in his life. He’s already lost his wife, and there’s not a day that goes by where he doesn’t miss her or think about how different his life would be if she was still here. “I can’t loose either of ya. I think I’d die if I did.”

“No one is gonna take us from you, and I’m not leaving, I promise.”

“But what if it’s not yer choice? What if I fuck up again an—.” He sniffles. “I didn’t think love . . . Fuck, I didn’t think a normal life was in the cards f’me. Everything that’s happened is proof of tha’. An’ now, I’m startin’ to believe again that it might be possible. ‘M afraid it’ll come crashin’ down again like it did.”

“Can I let you in on a secret?” you whisper. He looks up at you through his big brown eyes in a way that you can only describe as something a puppy would do. “I’m mortified of losing you, too. Either you die, or someone runs a red and I get into an accident. I’m terrified of what it’ll be like if we’re not in each other’s lives. But I know that’d it have to be some act of God to separate us.” I lean down and kiss him. “I love you, Michael. Forever and always. And nothing will ever change that.”

He holds you tighter, allowing you to snuggle down on his chest so you can hear his heartbeat loud and clear.

“What if we just run away,” he whispers. It’s not a question to you so much as it is a thought he’s mulled over time and time again. “Start over. Have a new life somewhere where all this shit isn’t weighing down over our heads.”

“Mikey . . .”

“I mean it. We’d be safe anywhere but here.”

“You’d be away from Anna.”

“We’d take her with us.”

“Her life is here, Michael. If she wants to leave, it’s her decision.”

“I just need t’keep ya safe.”

“And you will. No matter where we are in the world, I know you’ll keep us safe.”

“Why d’ya have so much faith in me?”

You turn into him, the tip of your nose brushing against his neck. “Because I love you, and you love me. I know the man that you are, and who you’re working to be. You are a good man, Michael Kinsella. And I love you.”

“You rhyme when you get sappy,” he chuckles softly, giving you a squeeze.

You kiss his shoulder, chuckling. “It was unintentional. But true. And it got you to smile. It’s a win-win.”

Michael pulls the blanket up around your bodies, holding you close and placing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

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[farfromstrange]

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Welcome! My name is Lizzi (she/her), and I’m a professional fangirl, English major, and writer. The following links are supposed to help you with finding your way around my blog. I’ve written a bunch of different works in different fandoms, but I mostly write for Charlie Cox’s characters (with more to be added). Feel free to roam to find whatever your heart desires! And if you ever feel like talking, don’t hesitate to drop an ask into my inbox <3

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-> I also put together a CARRD with a few resources to inform yourself on what’s currently going on in the world

⤹ TAGS.

#matt murdock x reader || #owen sleater x reader || #michael kinsella x reader -> reader insert fics (mine & others)

#lizzi talks & #lizzi updates -> my thoughts & updates

#fic rec -> fics i highly recommend

#ddba spoilers -> spoilers on Daredevil: Born Again that I post or repost until the show has come out (block it if you don’t want to see it)

⤹ MY WORKS.

Characters I write for include: Matt Murdock, Michael Kinsella, Owen Sleater & sometimes Frank Castle (he can be found in 2 fics, which I currently have linked on my Matt Murdock Masterlist. When I actually start writing for him regularly, I will add a separate list with all of my Frank Castle works, I promise!)

I’m currently not taking any requests! (But that will change again in the future once I’ve worked on all already standing requests)

⤹ MASTERLISTS.

✮⋆˙ Matt Murdock (Daredevil)

✮⋆˙ Michael Kinsella (Kin)

✮⋆˙ Owen Sleater (Boardwalk Empire)

#matt murdock x reader #michael kinsella x reader #owen sleater x reader #frank castle x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #marvel #mcu #foggy nelson #karen page #frank castle #marvel fic #avengers #boardwalk empire #fic collection #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella smut #michael kinsella fluff #blog navigation #fanfic writers of tumblr #requests are closed!

[she-likesorchids]

Horny little Michael Kinsella blurb inspired by this GIF from Treason:

Dedicated to @loveroftoomanyfandoms @bellaxgiornata and @souliebird who egged me on for this.

Smutty smut smut with fem reader below the cut.

Michael was late getting home again. It wasn't a rare occurrence, but you felt like you and Michael barely got any alone time in the evenings these days. Sure, waking up next to him was always grand, but you wanted to be awake to welcome him home, too.

You were in bed reading when you heard the door open and shut downstairs, signaling Michael’s arrival home. A sly smile crept across your face as you set your book down on the nightstand, then you took your panties off so that you were completely naked under Michael’s dress shirt you borrowed. You loved wearing his clothes because they smelled like him, and it was a source of comfort. Michael loved seeing you in his clothes, and he couldn't keep his hands off you if you were wearing one of his sweaters or shirts.

He finally appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, and you felt for him because he looked so tired.

"Mikey, love. Come ta bed", you whispered as you patted his side of the bed.

He smiled and crossed the room towards the bed, then he shed his pants and sweater, leaving him in just his boxers and t-shirt. You pulled back the covers for him, and he laid down. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get the words out, you climbed on top of him, pressing your lips to his for a kiss. Michael’s hands wandered underneath the hem of the shirt you were wearing, and he moaned into your mouth at the realization that you weren't wearing panties.

"Feelin' naughty, pet?" he whispered against your mouth between kisses.

"Missed you, love."

"I missed ya too. So fuckin much."

"Make love ta me, Mikey."

"Well, how can I say no?"

He wrapped his arms around you and slowly sat up, positioning you in his lap. You could feel his half hard cock through his boxers on your bare pussy, and you started grinding against his lap to get him harder.

"Fuck me, pet. So wet for me already."

"Need ya now, Mikey."

He put his hands on your hips and guided you up a little so he could take off his shirt and boxers. You unbuttoned his shirt you were wearing and started to slide it off your shoulders, but he stopped you.

"No, leave it on," he said before kissing you again.

You wrapped your hand around his fully erect cock, stroking it a couple of times before lining it up with your soaking wet entrance and lowering yourself down on him. Both of you took a moment to adjust to the feeling of this position, being face to face with one another while he was inside you. The feeling was indescribable, and neither of you had started to move yet.

Michael kissed you again, feverishly this time, then whispered against your lips, "Use me, pet. Take what ya need."

You gently started rolling your hips against his lap, and Michael gripped your hips to help with your pace. Your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck as you tenderly rode him, your breaths mixing together as soft sounds of pleasure escaped your lips.

Michael’s lips found your neck, and he left a trail of soft kisses down to your collarbone. "So fuckin gorgeous," he breathed out.

You were getting close. His cock was hitting that sweet spot at an angle you had never felt before, and your cunt was starting to clench around him, encouraging him to cum too.

"Cum with me, Mikey."

"Ah, fuck. Ya feel so good love, gonna cum."

"Cum for me baby."

He gripped your hips tighter as he spilled into you, and you held on to him for dear live as that coil snapped in your lower belly. You ran your fingers through his hair as you kissed him gently, his cock still inside you.

"Yer incredible, Mikey."

"So are you, pet."

You could get used to having him home in the evenings.

*runs away*

#mandy writes #michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella smut #rte kin #kin amc

[itwasthereaminuteago]

Masterlist

Follow #kinkwasthereaminuteago

Rating: Explicit 18+ no minors!

Pairings include: Matt Murdock x female reader, Frank Castle x female reader, Tristan Thorne x female reader, Michael Kinsella X female reader, Bucky Barnes X female reader, Matt x Frank x female reader, Matt Murdock x Frank Castle,

Author's note: it was a wild ride writing these and it's the first time I've done a challenge like this! Fully appreciate and look forward to any comments and reblogs!

PSA New Followers: please have your age in your bio, if it's not there im afraid you'll get blocked!

Also check your Account Settings>Content you see, to ensure you can see posts tagged with Mature/Sexual Themes.

Dirty Talk - Frank x reader

Floor Sex - Matt x reader

Anal - Frank x reader

Breathplay - Michael x reader

Breeding - Matt x reader

Morning Sex - Frank x reader

Sex Toys - Frank x reader

Voice Kink - Matt x reader

Double Penetration - Matt x Frank x Reader

Drunk Sex - Matt x reader

Rimming - Matt x reader

Hate/Angry Sex - Frank x reader

Face sitting - Matt x reader

Love Bites/Marks - Michael x reader

Overstimulation - Matt x Frank

Bath/shower sex - Tristan x reader

Pegging - Frank x reader

Lingerie - Matt

Masturbation - Matt x reader

Mirror Sex - Bucky x reader

Praise Kink - Matt x reader

Phone Sex - Bucky x reader

Food Play - Frank x reader

Tender Sex - Tristan Thorne x reader

Sex Pollen - Matt x Frank x reader

Sexting - tbc

Sensory Deprivation - Matt x reader (in prog)

Formal Wear - Frank x reader

Table Sex - Matt Murdock x reader

Public Sex - Matt x reader

Free choice - Cuddling - Frank x Matt

#kinkwasthereaminuteago #first one will be posted tomorrow (obvs!) #kinktober 2022 #matt murdock x frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader #frank castle x reader #michael kinsella x reader #bucky barnes x reader #tristan thorne x reader #matt murdock smut #frank castle smut #bucky barnes smut #michael kinsella smut #hyping up!

[siampie]

Chapter List for Finding You

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains smut, parental death, grief, idiots in love, angst, fluff, eldest daughter syndrome.

After your father passed and after sorting out his affairs, you made the move to Dublin, Ireland. You were happy to have found a two-story house at a cheap price. You didn’t think much of it. And then you realized why the price was so low, you were living next door to the notorious Kinsella Clan. A knit tight family that dealt in all sorts of crimes. And had made headlines a few times. It went from murder to drug dealings. Upon learning this, you made yourself as scarce as possible. You kept your interactions with the Kinsellas as little as possible. You kept away from them, and they seemed to keep away from you too. Not having the means to move out of this neighborhood, you took it in stride and lived your life despite your proximity to the Kinsellas. You made sure not to be seen by them and kept out of their way. That was until your next-door neighbor; Michael Kinsella; is released from jail and moves back into his home. You’ve sworn to yourself to stay away from him. You knew what he'd done to his wife. You knew why he had been in jail for eight years. And yet, you find yourself drawn to your quiet and dangerous neighbor.

List of Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 (Coming Soon)

#michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x fem! reader #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella smut

[shiorimakibawrites]

A Heated Discussion (Kinktober Day 8)

Personal Masterlist for Kinktober 2023

FlightlessAngelWing's prompt list can be found here.

Day 8 - Rough Sex

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x AFAB! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1,267

Warning(s): reference to a mugging with threat of knife violence, rough kisses, spanking, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, clitoral stimulation, overstimulation, reference to possibility of voyeurism, dirty talk

Tagging: @flightlessangelwings-updates

A Heated Discussion

You weren’t fighting. Fighting implied disagreement. This wasn’t a disagreement per se. Michael wanted you alive and safe. Well as safe as you could be dating him. You also wanted those things. But how to accomplish those lofty goals . . . well . . . you were still working out the details.

One of those details – namely how late was too late to call him to walk you home after work – had resulted in this . . . not an argument . . . a heated discussion. Probably because you had walked through the front door without your purse and shaking from having a knife waved in your face. With Michael already worried because it was well past time for you to be home and you hadn’t been answering your phone . . . because it had been dead and now it was stolen . . .

To say he was unhappy about these events was a bit of an understatement.

Having Michael crowd you against the kitchen table, boxing you in with his arms, his eyes dark with restrained fury, speaking in a low but intense voice, should have been frightening. Especially since you knew perfectly well what this man was capable of. Key words being should have been. Because the feeling coursing through you wasn’t fear.

Not with thoughts like ‘Wow, he is so pretty when he’s angry’ running around your head. Not that Michael isn’t always pretty. Because he is. But there was something about his angry face that was making your cunt ache with need. It was rather distracting.

“Are ya even listenin’ to me?” he demanded, sounding frustrated. Which was . . . fair.

You weren’t sure when the switch was flipped. One minute, you were having your heated discussion. The next thing you knew, Michael was kissing you. Rough kisses that involved just as much teeth as they did lips and tongue. Kisses that soon had you frantically trying to get his pants off. You had partially succeeded. You had managed to unbuckle his belt as well as unbutton and unzip the pants. You were in the process of yanking them down when he lifted you into the air and deposited you onto the table.

He tried to slotted himself between your legs but ended growling into your mouth when the tightness of your skirt restricted the spread of your legs. He tore his mouth away from yours with a frustrated growl.

“Lift ya hips for me, pet,” he ordered, fingers hooking into the waistband of your skirt. You never noticed him doing it but the closures had been undone. So when you eagerly lifted your hips, he could immediately start pulling down your skirt. Along with your panties.

You expected him to do the same to his own jeans and boxers but he only pushed them down far enough to free his cock. His hands gripped your hips and yanked you over to the edge. The movement was so abrupt that you barely managed to remain upright. Michael slotted himself between your legs, using his body to spread them apart until he was pressing his groin against yours. Not trying to come inside you – just grinding his hard cock on your wet cunt.

“So fuckin’ wet, pet,” he rumbled, moving one hand away from your hip. You gasped as that hand smacked your ass. Not especially hard but it only fueled the fire between your legs. Something that did not go unnoticed by Michael.

“And that got ya even wetter,” he observed, grinding against you. “Like it when someone spanks yer arse, pet?”

You felt your face flush. When you didn’t answer, he smacked your ass again, a little harder this time. Which only made you let out a strangled moan. It stung but it also felt good.

“Answer me, pet,” he said, a note of warning in his voice.

“Y-yes,” you manage to pant out and are rewarded with another smack. His hand rubbed the skin, soothing the tingling skin. That it also allowed him to grope your ass was just a bonus.

Then you felt the head of his cock prodding your entrance. But he didn’t come inside you. Just pressed the tip to your entrance. You whined and bucked up, trying to get him actually in you. Or rather you wanted to do that but his hands were back on your hips almost immediately. He used the hold to press your hips back down onto the table. They stayed there, keeping you right where he wanted you.

“Mikey, please . . .” you whined, trying to squirm out of his hold. But it was useless. He was too strong.

“Ya want me to fuck ya, pet?” Michael asked, pushing himself in. But only a little. Barely far enough get the head of his cock inside you. Just enough to give your aching cunt a taste of what it wanted. What it needed.

You whimpered. “Mikey-”

“Then promise me that ya’ll call me when ya get off after dark. Promise me no more walking alone at night,” he demanded.

“But what if” you started to protest but cut yourself off when he started to withdraw his cock. “Okay, okay! I promise! I promise! I – fuck!”

With one powerful thrust, Michael had pushed the rest of his cock inside you. All the way without letting your cunt adjust along the way or the usual foreplay of fingering or eating you out. It didn’t hurt but there was a sharpness that told you that you were going to sore later.

But that was Future You’s problem. Present You was deliciously full, moaning at the sensation of your cunt fluttering and twitching around his cock. But you needed more. You wrapped your legs around his hips and dug your heels into his bare ass. You both groaned as this action pushed him little bit deeper inside you.

“Move!” you ordered.

Michael did as he was told. No slow build up this time, he was immediately thrusting at a hard and fast pace. You rose your hips to meet each thrust as best as you could. Your hands clung tightly to his shoulders, your nails biting into his shirt.

Your fear from the mugging on the way home. The stress of arguing with Michael. The knowledge that anyone who walked into the backyard would be able to see Michael fucking you on the kitchen table. All of it faded into the background.

All that mattered was Michael. The look of fierce pleasure on his face. The taste of his skin as your mouth kissed and nipped at his neck. The sound of his loud grunts and quieter moans as he fucked you. The way his cock felt, how perfectly he fit inside you, how deep each hard thrust was. How with a slight shift of his hips he started hitting that spongey place inside you that had the pleasure building and building. Until suddenly the dam burst and you were screaming his name.

You fell back on the table, unable to keep yourself upright. Michael barely missed a beat, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm. The waves had almost abated when his hand abandoned your hip in favor of toying with your clit. You cried out and soon found yourself falling over the edge of your second climax. That soon on the heels of your first, the pleasure was so intense it was almost painful. You couldn’t stop sobbing his name as his thrusts began to falter, until with a deep groan, he thrust in one last time and came.

#fawktober2023 #kinktober 2023 #kin amc #kin rte #michael kinsella smut #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #fan fic #fan fiction

[saintmurd0ck]

in flagrante delicto

frank masterlist | michael masterlist | part two (ish)

pairing: frank castle x f!reader x michael kinsella

summary: maybe it was the wrong idea to sneak away during a kinsella party, especially when michael's there to catch you in the act.

warnings: minor drug use, mentions of alcohol, threesome, dp, unprotected sex, m and f receiving oral, ass eating/ass play, amanda kinsella slander, cum... the list goes on

a/n: now let me tell you. this is an unholy abomination. enjoy the culmination of 4 months of writers block pretty much 💗

song recommendation: bad drugs (king kavalier)

The party is a distant blur in the courtyard below, fogged with your heavy breaths against the cool glass. “We shouldn’t be doing this here, Frank.”

His laugh mimics a deep, rolling purr as he presses you harder against the window, digging his fingers into your waist. The glow of the fairy lights dance across his face, faintly illuminating the handprints now marking the glass. You try not to wince at the evidence you’ve left, but Frank’s teeth on your neck clears every single worry running through your mind.

Some marker of relief glitters in your veins as you hear shouting, then as a crowd gathers around a shit-faced Eric, knocking back shot after shot with no care for the world. Frank’s clearly been distracting you far too long — to the point where you’ve forgotten where you are. At a Kinsella party. 

You can guarantee what you’re doing isn’t the worst thing happening in this house. 

Frank’s eyelashes flutter against your cheek as his lips ghost your skin, mouth finding yours as he pivots you around. He murmurs your name as you palm him through his jeans, savouring every thick inch of him with your lazy strokes. His fingers latch onto the button of your jeans, moving deftly to undo them, and then to wedge his hand between your legs. He feels for the soft lace edges of your underwear, tracking the wetness pooling between your legs. The outside world fades away as his finger slips over your aching clit, his low chuckle ringing in your ears as you arch into his touch. 

Your sharp intake of breath echoes throughout the hallway at the quiet drawl that sounds.

“So tha’s where you’ve been all night.”

Fuck. You’re screwed.

You cast a subtle glance past Frank’s shoulder, surveying the man leaning against the adjacent doorway, clumsily fixing the mess that’s become of your clothes. Michael looks the two of you up and down, tongue clicking as he strides towards you. He opens his mouth to say something, but he stills instead, eyebrows arching as he folds his arms across his chest. 

He’s the perfect portrait of a prom chaperone… waiting to catch someone in the act.

Heat blooms in your face as Michael inclines his head, mouth upturning into a knowing smile. “Well? D’ya have anythin’ to say?”

Words have long since failed you, so you try something else. A gentle nudge to Frank’s ribs has him clawing your elbow away, but your idea pays off.

He clears his throat. “Party was too loud.”

Michael nods, tapping his foot impatiently on the hardwood floor. “I see.” He pauses, jerking his chin towards Frank. “Jimmy’s lookin’ for ‘ya.”

You study his face for a moment, eyes narrowing at his tone, at his clipped words. There’s an edge to him tonight, and if the past has taught you anything at all, now’s the time to be careful.

Frank bristles at Michael’s attempt to separate the two of you. “If you’re jealous, you could’ve said so.”

There it is.

Michael runs his tongue over his teeth, a clear marker of his irritation. And the fact that Frank is well and truly right. “‘M not jealous, Frank.”

“Then what are you doin’, spying on us, huh?” There’s a challenge in his voice, and it thrums in your blood. “Think I didn’t notice ‘ya creepin’ behind, thinking you’re all stealthy and shit? You’ve been out of the game too long.”

“Besides,” Frank continues, clocking in the way Michael’s eyes dart upwards, “I never said I wouldn’t share.”

Michael scoffs. “You must be jokin’.”

Frank clamps his hands on your shoulders, pulling them backwards so you stand up straighter. He grunts as your top rides up, as Michael stares at the now-exposed sliver of your midriff. You barely have time to register as Frank’s lips brush past your ear, mumbling a quick ‘this okay, sweetheart?’, and then as he waits for your approval. To put on a show, most likely.

“Yes, Frankie,” you murmur, tipping your head back to feel his stubble scratching against your cheek. To bare your neck, so Michael can see exactly where you want his mouth. To begin with.

“You think I’m joking, Mikey?” Frank says, voice dipping low, hands running up your sides to cup your breasts. It seems as if Michael’s frozen in place as Frank squeezes them, fingers dipping beneath the cup of your bra to thumb your nipples. You open your mouth to moan at the friction of the fabric rubbing against your breasts. 

As usual, Michael’s a man of few words, either stony-faced or completely neutral. Not tonight, though. Tonight, all his tells lay open across his face.

“C’mere,” you breathe, watching his chest rise unevenly, noticing the breaths that start to catch in his throat.

You feel yourself falling apart as Frank nips your pulse, dragging his tongue up the column of your throat. He slides his hands under your shirt, hissing at the sensation of your silken skin on his calluses, at your raging warmth underneath his palms. 

It’s becoming increasingly difficult, but your focus remains on Michael. Any second now. 

He presses his lips together, throwing a glance behind his shoulder, checking to make sure no-one’s about to interrupt. 

“Fuck,” he says, and walks right over to you. 

. . .

As every semblance of self-control melts away, you feel yourself sinking into the feeling of two pairs of lips on your body, of the undiluted want radiating from the three of you.

It surprises you — how gentle Michael’s kisses are. How he asks for permission before slipping his tongue into your mouth, by running it across your bottom lip. You let him in with a groan, though you know part of that noise comes from the man kneeling at your back, tugging your jeans down your legs. Frank kisses your hip as he shimmies the fabric down your thighs, stopping for a second only to capture the waistband of your panties in his teeth. He pulls it away before letting it go, satisfied only when he hears the snap of the elastic against your skin. 

Your breathing goes shaky as Michael becomes more insistent, moving to cup your face while Frank drags his fingertips up your inner thighs. It’s as if they can’t drink you up fast enough, as if this is a fever dream about to vanish. A whimper tumbles from your mouth as Michael brushes his thumb over your cheek, stepping closer to slot himself between your legs. He shifts into you, grinding exactly where you need him, grunting at the newfound contact. 

Where Frank is rough, Michael’s soft instead. Yielding. Not what you expect at all, coming from a man with his… reputation, but you can guarantee one thing: none of this makes him any less fearsome. Not as he beholds you, desire deepening in his eyes, settling over his features. Lips hovering over your neck, just above the spot he marked earlier, Michael slips your top off, exhaling at the goosebumps now prickling your skin. Frank trails his kisses down your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands, spreading you apart. It’s scandalous, doing this by the window, knowing full well about the party raging on just below.

And with Amanda in such close proximity. You almost huff at the thought of her walking up the stairs and discovering this.

Frank’s low grumble of approval breaks your concentration. “Let’s get her naked.”

Michael hums in agreement, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor as the straps come off your shoulders. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, shaking his head in almost disbelief. “Struck gold, didn’t ‘ya, Frank?”

“Sure did,” Frank chuckles, knuckles grazing your clit, making you yelp in the process. He moves out of the way as Michael grips your waist, guiding you backwards until the cold glass bites your skin. It’s nothing to you; not with the pounding in your heart and the heat in your blood with the thought of what’s to come. As he slots his forearm between your waist and the glass, Michael’s tongue snakes out of his mouth to wet his lips. 

You loosen a breath, not being aware of how long you’ve held it, and look him in the eyes. He swallows, dipping his hand between your legs, dragging his finger up your centre before it stops on your clit. 

“Oh,” you groan, bucking your hips, desperate for more. You have half a mind to reach for his hand, to guide him until you find your release, but it seems he has something else on his mind.

“Stay right there, pet. Can you do that f’me?”

You nod, eyes glassy, watching him stalk to the bedroom across the hall. He jerks his head at Frank, who flashes Michael a cheeky grin before turning to you. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, darlin’. M’gonna make you cum, alright? But you gotta stay quiet. Deal?”

You’re a panting, wet mess, but you manage a small ‘yes’. You gaze down at Frank, watching him take his place between your legs, then as his mouth makes its way up your thighs. The throbbing in your core is insistent now, begging, pleading, to be taken care of. 

His eyes widen as you spread your legs for him. “Good girl,” he breathes, tongue darting out to flick your clit.

It’s an effort not to scream his name out loud, not when his tongue feels like that. You clamp a hand over your mouth, the other scrambling for purchase in his hair. He licks your clit in tight, little circles, paying close attention to the spot that makes you tremble the hardest, that threatens to make your voice break if you deign to open your mouth. He switches his rhythm, going back and forth, experimenting with touch and pressure until you– 

Your voice is hoarse as you say his name. “Frank. Frank, I’m gonna–”

He pulls away from your clit, slipping into the deepest parts of you, letting your taste coat his tongue. He groans in delight, mumbling something that sounds like ‘youtastesofuckinggood’ but you’re too in your own head to decipher the tangle of noise – no, you’re thrashing against the window, eyes squeezed shut, fingers curling in the hair close to his nape.

“Please, please, please,” you start to beg, muscles going tight, savouring the feeling of his mouth on your pussy. You start to ride his tongue, and he lets you. He lets you take control, to position him where you want him. The cord tethering you to reality snaps, taking your body with it. Your orgasm is almost blinding as it hits, cresting over your body until your shoulders slump against the window.

“Fuckin’ hell, pet,” Michael hisses, palming himself through his jeans, standing just in front of you. You don’t know when he got back—in fact, nothing is comprehensible at the moment—but you reach out to him, nevermind the thin layer of sweat now coating your skin.

Frank gets up off his knees to wipe his mouth as Michael fishes something out of his back pocket. It’s a little baggie, filled to the brim with what you and Frank affectionately label, ‘The Kinsella Special’. 

“Wan’ some?” Michael asks the both of you, tipping a little onto the back of his hand. Frank shakes his head, going to help you upright instead. You politely decline, considering how much you’d had earlier in the kitchen with Eric and Jimmy. The white powder coats Michael’s nostril as he snorts it, doubling back as it hits his system. 

“Too much of that shit’ll kill ‘ya,” Frank comments, cracking a smile.

Michael scoffs as he puts the baggie away, placing his hand on the small of your back. “Let’s go,” he says, head inclining towards the bedroom. You lick your lips, eyes glittering with delight as you let him guide you.

Frank merely follows suit, smacking your ass on the way there.

. . .

The door slams shut, a little too loud for your liking, but the feeling of Michael’s lips crashing on yours overrides any semblance of apprehension lurking in your brain. He sweeps a hand into your hair, coiling the strands around his fingers. Your breathing is shallow as his mouth grazes the skin of your jaw, while his other hand cups your face.

Frank’s pullover is nowhere to be seen as he tugs you away from Michael, sweeping you towards him until your bodies are touching, the delicious warmth of his skin spreading to yours. You flatten a palm against his chest, feeling the hardened muscle underneath as he grazes his mouth against yours, hungry for all you could possibly give. You’re utterly breathless— mesmerised by him, by the both of them, and their sole priority: you. 

You let out a low moan as Michael’s hands reach around to grab your breasts, rolling your nipples in his fingers. He leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder, moving upwards to gently nip the shell of your ear. Your face grows taut as Frank moans your name, eyes fluttering shut at the sound of it coming from his mouth.

The word catches in your throat even as you don a purr. “Sensitive?”

Frank growls his agreement as his abs contract underneath your fingertips. He inches further forwards until there’s no space between the two of you at all, and then he takes your hand, not breaking contact once, guiding it down, down, down. 

He grunts as you stroke him through his jeans, moving your hand over the swell of his cock. You reach behind you to palm Michael at the same time, running the juncture of your thumb over his length, and for a moment, there’s no other sound except for your shared breaths, and the low grunts that slip from both men. The wetness pooling in your core – and the urge to do something about it – sends heat up your spine, wending its way into every last nerve ending.

Your mouth goes dry as Michael steps away to pull his shirt off, revealing a torso rippling with muscle, and several adorning tattoos. 

“Hey,” Frank chastises, sensing the shift in your attention, “eyes up here.”

“Fuck off,” you laugh, swallowing deeply as you rake your eyes over their bodies. “You’ll forgive me if I’m being vain.”

Michael averts his gaze, but he makes little effort to hide his grin. “Lighten up, Frank.”

The atmosphere instantly goes tense, silence weaving its way into every dark corner of the bedroom. Michael stiffens as Frank glares at him, boring past his softened exterior and into the Kinsella core inside. To the man you’d be scared to cross paths with, being the Punisher or not.  

But Frank sputters instead, shaking his head as he cracks a mischievous smile. There’s a lightness to his face, in his now-relaxed shoulders, and it makes you soar. 

“Now,” Frank drawls, “where were we?”

You only have a moment to nudge Frank in the ribs before Michael latches himself to you, his mouth like heaven on your tits. The three of you are a wildfire, desperate to get each other’s clothes off, barely pausing to breathe. Michael sits on the edge of the bed, fingers shaking as he fumbles for his belt. You knock his hands aside, groaning as he drags his tongue down your sternum, eyes dipping to the trail of hair leading below his waistband. 

“Want you to do the same,” you say, motioning to Frank as you unbuckle Michael’s belt. 

Frank nods silently, and your ears prick at the clinking of his buckle, then at the shuffle of fabric as he kicks his jeans away. You look towards him for a second, sizing up the bulge in his underwear. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as you turn around to find Michael sitting before you, legs spread and his cock in hand. He pumps it with a loose fist, biting his lip as he runs his thumb over the head. The corners of his mouth upturn as he meets your gaze. 

‘Blow me?’ it says. 

Lucky you’re more than happy to oblige. 

You sink down to your knees, hinging forwards to brace his thighs. You kiss along the hard plane of his stomach, tracing the ridges of his abs with the tip of your tongue. His cock twitches as your mouth nears. 

“Fuck,” he grits, carding his fingers through your hair. Your eyes flicker with delight as you swirl your tongue over his sensitive head, as he bucks his hips into your mouth. 

Frank’s lips brush past your ear as you take Michael fully, the tip of his cock almost touching your throat. “Bend over for me, sweet girl?”

Frank takes his place behind you as he listens to your hum of approval, chuckling as Michael groans your name. You’re throbbing hard now, core pounding as Frank spreads you apart, lapping up your glistening arousal. You moan with your lips still wrapped around Michael’s cock, digging your fingernails into his thighs as Frank pushes his tongue inside you. 

“Remember what I said about being quiet?” Frank asks, swapping his tongue for two of his fingers. 

“Yes, Frank,” you exhale, contracting around his fingers as he strokes that spot inside you.

“Gonna let you off the hook for a bit. I think you’d agree with me, wouldn’t you Mikey?”

Colour stains Michael’s cheeks as he opens his mouth to reply, utterly blissed out from the way you’re working him with your hand and mouth. “Mmh— yeah—“

Your eyes roll back into your head as Frank replaces his fingers with his cock, nudging it against your entrance. You bite your lip, hand freezing around Michael, stunned in place at the burn of Frank stretching you out. He hisses a frantic ‘good girl’ as you envelop him, little by little. 

“Did I say you could stop?” Frank grunts, burying himself to the hilt in one sharp thrust. Shuddering, you shake your head and try to put your mouth back on Michael, but no coherent thoughts run through your head. Frank feels too good. 

“Suck him off or I’ll stop, princess.”

“Fuck,” you grit, wiping away the blooming tears in your eyes. “Fu—“

Michael guides himself into your open mouth, parting your lips with his head, gripping your chin as he looks down at you. “Look how pretty y’are, pet. Takin’ it so good.”

You nod furiously, a breathy moan loosening from your lips at the praise, and then as Frank slows his pace. Michael doesn’t seem to mind as you pull away from him, watching intently instead at the string of spit still connecting himself to you. His darkening gaze snaps to Frank’s at the sudden wet slap of his body against yours, nostrils flaring as you grip Michael’s thighs hard enough to bruise.

Your legs tremble as Frank withdraws himself to the tip, chuckling at your efforts to press up against him for more. You could groan at the emptiness inside you, at the feeling of your core going tight with impatience.

“Greedy, aren’t you?” he grunts, knotting your hair in his fist. He thrusts back into you, rolling his hips at a pace that almost has you screaming for more. He bends forwards, lips roving down the column of your spine, whispering his dirty sweet nothings until your thoughts are nothing more than a thunderous roar in your ears.

Michael lifts your chin with a sweep of his finger, running his tongue over the seam of your lips. You moan into his mouth, letting him in without hesitation. He laughs dryly at the guttural sound of Frank hitting that spot inside you, leaving you breathless as his tongue brushes against yours.

Your skin prickles with heat at the thought of having more, of being selfishly theirs. Only theirs. 

And with that thought, Frank pulls you over the edge, relishing in the way you tip your head back, eyes fluttering closed at the pleasure coursing through your blood.

Not letting you get even one moment of reprieve, Michael sits back on the edge of the bed, patting his thigh for you to sit. 

On him.

Your lips twitch into a sly smile. “You want me to…?”

His mouth curves upwards. “Tha’ too much to ask?”

You bite your lip as you get on your feet, hips swaying as you let him rake his gaze up and down. A flicker of amusement flashes across his face as he grips his cock at the base, spreading his legs to show you exactly what you’re missing with every passing second.

You lunge for him, pressing your back against his chest to straddle his thighs. You lower yourself on him, loosening a breath at the sudden fullness, at the way his cock fills you but still feels wholly different from Frank’s. 

“There ‘ya go,” he moans, hands finding your waist. He guides you up and down his length, cursing at how tight your pussy is, at how wet you are for him. Frank’s wicked smile only grows as he traces his fingers over the outline of your lips. You open up for him, nearly choking as he shoves them into your mouth. With one hand anchored to the bed, you lift the other to his cock, squeezing him as you jerk him off, just the way he likes.

“Hey Mikey,” Frank grunts, hips bucking into your hand, “you wanna know what I see right now?”

Michael lifts an eyebrow, thrusts starting to match the rhythm of your hips. “Yeah?”

“She gets that look in her eyes when she wants to be used.”

You whimper at the words, and Michael stills for a moment. “Oh?”

Frank smiles sweetly at you, nevermind that his fingers are almost touching the back of your throat. “That what you want, darlin’?”

“Mmmm.” That’s all you can muster, when you’re riding Michael like your life depends on it, with Frank throbbing in your hand.

“Say it.”

“Please,” you beg. “Please. I want you two to use—“

“Dirty girl,” Michael drawls, teeth closing in on the side of your neck, his tongue flicking out once to soothe the sting of his bite. He stutters into you, slamming your body down into his cock. His hands knead your breasts as he groans your name, frenzied at the feeling of your cum dripping down his balls.

Tilting your chin upwards, Frank sweeps in to kiss you, taking over your efforts in jerking him off. His breath fans over the skin of your jaw, tickling the shell of your ear. “If I knew you’d fuck her this good…” he says to Michael, dark eyes ravaging you to the bone.

“Yeah, and?” Michael pants.

“Woulda asked you to do this a long, long time ago.”

Your head lolls to the side as you cum around Michael’s cock, squeezing him so hard he curses.

“Fuckin’ hell, Frank,” he whispers, voice hoarse, “you’d better not be bullshittin’ me, yeah?”

Frank’s smirk glints in the dim light of the room. “Now why would I ever do that?”

Michael drums his fingers along your ass, prompting you to get up, to use every bit of strength left in your flailing limbs to stand. 

“We’re far from done, princess,” Frank drawls, helping you onto the bed. You’re half-tempted to tell him to heave you on it instead, when your legs feel like jelly and your skin sears with the imprints of their touch. 

With your back cushioned by the soft sheets, you stretch your body, arcing your spine off the bed. You’re more than aware of the way you’re being watched in this moment, of the way you’re ensnared like prey to two apex predators. 

“Attagirl,” Frank grunts, licking his lips at the writhing, squirmy display beneath him. His eyes snap to Michael’s. “Ain’t that right?”

“Spread ‘er apart, will ‘ya, Frank?” 

Frank’s lips press into a line at the quiet command in Michael’s voice, inclining his head in acknowledgement. He does as he’s told, knocking your thighs apart with his knee, leaning forwards to lick circles on your clit.

Wedging his hands under your shoulder blades, Michael pulls you to the edge of the bed, making sure your head tips over the side. He brushes a thumb over your lips and you part your mouth instinctively, lurching forwards for a taste, any taste of him.

Michael’s voice drops an octave, and you swear his Irish lilt becomes more pronounced. “Eager, aren’t ‘ya?”

No retort comes out of your mouth, not when Frank buries himself inside you. Not when Michael stuffs his cock in your mouth at the same time.

But the excitement is short-lived, because the sound of slamming doors and shouting from downstairs drags their attention away from you. The party—

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, Mikey?” Frank says, raising his eyebrows.

Michael looks to the ceiling as he runs his tongue over his teeth, lost in a moment of contemplation. “Yeah,” he starts, nodding, “yeah. Who cares? We’re busy.”

“If they hear somethin’ they don’t like, it’s their problem,” Frank agrees, looking to you. “You okay with that, angel?”

You raise your hips to fuck yourself against Frank’s cock, breathing your ‘yes’ into Michael’s thighs. He guides himself back into your mouth, hissing as he watches his length disappear past your lips, the angle deeper now with the position of your head. His hand flutters over the bulge in your throat, pace faltering as he listens to the sloppy, obscene noises you can’t help but make. They spur you on, almost as much as the sound of Frank’s low groans, and he lets you use him, grind on him, until you find your release yet again. 

“More,” you gasp, breaking away from Michael’s cock, lifting your ass to go deeper. “Please.”

“Take what you need, sweetheart,” Frank exhales, abs contracting at the sight of your need, your desperation. There’s no more challenge, no more taunting in his words. It’s just Frank, laid completely bare, wanting you to take.

Unable to hold himself back, Michael spills down your throat with a roar, the syllables of your name ripping from his throat. You unravel with him, your cry muffled around his cock, knowing it almost takes Frank with you.

The aftershock ebbs away slowly with Michael slumping over you, palms flattening at your sides as he withdraws himself from your mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispers, “sorry, pet. Didn’t mean to do tha’.”

Your eyes glisten with hunger as you lick your lips, throat bobbing as you swallow every last drop. “Anything for you, Michael.”

He grits his jaw at the promise in your tone. “On your front.”

He starts to harden at the wink you flash, at the sly ‘yes, sir’ you decide in a split-second to say. The sound of moving fabric rustles in your ears as you flip over, propping yourself up with your forearms. In a tiny moment of defiance, you arch your back, wiggling your ass in the air as if to say, ‘I haven’t got all night, boys.’ Frank counters with a smug smile, settling down near the headboard, resting his hands behind his head. He widens his legs, cock twitching with anticipation as he flexes his hips upwards. I haven’t got all night, either.

He makes a show out of touching himself, amused at the effect it has on you. You let out a long moan as Michael’s tongue laps at your pussy, but it’s cut short as his tongue travels further up, higher, until his mouth hovers…

“Mikey,” you breathe, hands fisting the sheets.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and the words melt against your skin, fringed with a gentleness you rarely get to hear.

“Of course,” you exhale, shivering at the warmth of him, so close to that part of you— “Fuck!” Your toes curl as he dives into you, feasting as though he’s been starved his whole life. He has you clawing at the sheets as he worships you, an infinite well of pleasure crackling through your body.

A muscle feathers in Frank’s jaw as he hands Michael a bottle of lube, one hand still gripping his cock, content with just watching for now. The cap pops open with a small click that reverberates in your skull, filling your mind with nothing more than embers about to spark.

Michael’s husky voice pulls you from the daydream, his finger starting to circle the outline of your asshole. “I’ll start slow, okay? You let me know if you need a break.” 

Your nose scrunches as the lube stings with the cold, but it warms quickly with Michael’s gentle touches. He eases a finger in, pausing at your sudden sharp inhale, but you nod for him to keep going. 

It doesn’t take long for him to slip the second finger in, then his third. He takes his time warming you up, always watching for signs of discomfort, but discovering instead that your moans are getting louder, that they’re turning into little pleas for his cock. 

“You gotta speak up, sweetheart,” Frank chuckles, gliding his fingers along your pulse. 

You angle your head around to Michael, who slaps his cock against your ass cheek, making a point of how quickly you managed to get him hard again. Your body tenses as he nudges the tip in, stretching you out inch-by-inch. It takes a second for you to adjust to his length, but then… then he begins to move. 

“You look so good gettin’ fucked out, sweetheart. You know that?” Frank groans, pumping himself harder. You dart forwards to lick his broad head, to lap up the precum beading there.

Your eyes squeeze shut as Michael puts his body weight on you with long, languid thrusts filling you as much as you can take. You shove your hand between your legs, fingers rubbing your swollen clit, desperate for friction. Every breath comes out shaky as he anchors himself — one hand on your shoulder, the other on the bed — and begins to snap his hips. He fucks you the way you deserve, and he knows it.  The knot building in the bottom of your stomach threatens to unravel with every movement, your impending release singing through every nerve. 

As if sensing it, Michael pulls out, leaving you empty. Unfulfilled. 

“Hey,” you grumble, shooting daggers at him. “I was so close.”

“Jus’ savin’ the best for last, darlin’,” Michael winks, Frank echoing the sentiment seconds later.

Coaxing you off your stomach, Frank hauls you over him, dragging a finger through your slick folds before lining himself up with your pussy. You fight the urge to scream as you sink onto him, toeing the line between pain and pleasure with the thickness of his cock. 

“God fucking damn,” you grit, flattening your palms against his chest, rolling your hips in large, smooth circles. He beckons Michael forward, grabbing your ass to spread you apart. Keeping his momentum going, Frank plants his hands on your hips to lock you in place, drilling into you at a pace that has you seeing stars. 

“That’s it baby, cum on my cock,” he groans, letting out a half-cry, slanting his lips over yours as he feels you squeeze around him. 

Your body barely reacts as Michael assumes a position behind you, waiting for your breathing to calm before guiding himself into you. 

“Oh God,” you whimper, “ohgodohgodohgod.”

Something catches fire inside of you as they start to move in tandem, and you’re full; you’re so full you can’t think. You can’t help the panting, your dragged out moans… it’s more than intense— a feeling you can’t link to anything else you’ve ever experienced. 

White fringes your vision as they sync their rhythms together, moving faster than before, leaning into each other— into you. Your fingernails dig into Frank’s shoulders as their voices start to blur together; their grunted praise and hushed degradation almost indistinguishable from the sound of your whimpers. 

Your head tips back as you clench on their cocks, and Frank surges upwards to capture your nipple in his mouth, nibbling on the pebbled flesh, if only to make you squeeze once again. His low groans and Michael’s soft curses distill in the room, suspended in the air around your bodies, as this becomes all you know. 

Words don’t exist— thoughts don’t exist in this moment in time; it’s just you, and Frank, and Michael. Just the three of you, caught in a whirlwind with no beginning or end. 

There is no end, even as they destroy you, even as they shatter within you, rendering every last drop they have to give. 

. . .

You crack an eye open at the covers lifting off your body, then as Michael pads across the room towards the door. He shuts it softly, but he stands close enough that it’s easy to hear the conversation.

Amanda’s hushed voice comes through. “What’d you get up to last night? Didn’t see ‘ya very much.”

Michael pauses. Too long. “Yeah– uh, Frank and I had somethin’ to do.” 

You choke.

Their words drown out as a sleepy Frank wraps his thick arm around your body, pulling you in tight, nuzzling against the crook of your neck. “Eavesdropping, sweetheart?”

You swat him away, to no avail, craning your head to hear the last of the conversation. “Shh.”

He growls, nipping at your shoulder, nudging your legs apart to slot in between. His voice, still gravelly from the effects of sleep, prickles your skin. “How about I get you all nice and warmed up for him by the time he gets back here, huh? Figured he’d need the distraction, after talking to her.”

There’s no masking the wetness pooling between your legs, or the heat licking up your spine. “Alright, Castle,” you smirk. “Do your worst.”

tags {x} @marvelswh0re @murdock-and-the-sea @pedrito-friskito @itwasthereaminuteago @mattmurdocksscars @e-dubbc11 @mindidjarin @phoebe-danvers @munsonownsmyass @briefcasejuice @simple-lovebot @stress--relief @castlesnchurches

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle smut #the punisher smut #michael kinsella #michael kinsella smut #frank castle x reader smut #kin amc #frank castle x reader #michael kinsella x reader #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher fanfiction #rhi writes 💻 #x reader

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

It's Always Been You (Reader's Version)

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Summary: What if Michael went to his best friend (Reader) during the events of Season 2 Episode 7 instead of Amanda coming to him?

Warnings/Tags: Friends to Lovers, PWP, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, spoilers for season 2 of Kin, American attempting to write an Irish dialect

Word Count: ~3500

A/N: I've joined everyone in Mikey Brainrot Land! Expect more from me featuring Mikey (including a Mikey PoV of this fic) soon!

Fuckin' hell, what a day, Y/F/N Y/L/N thought as she poured herself a very large glass of wine and sat on her sofa. She had been shouted at by one patient at the hospital where she worked, hit on by another, and accused of trying to exsanguinate a third when she had sent a nurse in for a blood draw.

She had just opened the book she had settled down to read when her doorbell rang. Of course.

She opened the door and couldn't help but smile when she saw who was standing in her doorway -- her best friend of over twenty years, Michael Kinsella. "Mikey, hi."

Michael rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Hey, Y/N. Can I come in?"

Y/N stepped out of the doorway. "Yeah, of course."

She shut the door behind Michael. "Can I get ya a drink? Water, tea… juice?"

Michael smiled sadly. "Beer?"

Y/N's eyebrows raised. Michael rarely imbibed after getting out of prison, so Y/N knew there was probably something serious going on. "Sure. Make yerself comfortable."

She went to her kitchen, popping open two beers before heading into her living room, pleased to see that Michael had taken his shoes off. Plannin' on stayin' a while, then. Good.

She handed him one of the beers then set the other one down before picking up her glass of wine and sitting beside him on the sofa. "Talk ta me, Mikey. What's goin' on?"

Michael drained half of the bottle before speaking. "Bren's been sniffin' 'round Anna."

Y/N sucked in a breath. Unfortunately she knew first-hand about Michael's father's predatory ways. "Did ya tell her about him?"

Michael sighed. "I tried, but she just accused me of tryin' ta keep her from tha family and I got angry and shouted at her, then I left."

Y/N took a long sip of wine. She loved her goddaughter, she really did, but she knew Anna was still angry at Michael and wouldn't want to listen to anything her father said. "Want me ta talk ta her? She might actually listen ta her Auntie Y/N."

Michael drained the rest of his beer and picked up the other bottle, then took another drink. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd appreciate tha'. I'm not exactly on the best terms with her right now."

Y/N reached out and gave Michael's hand a squeeze. "I'm sorry yer having such a rough go of it, Mikey."

Michael scoffed and took another long drink of his beer. "Oh, that's not even half of it. I called Molly afterward, then when she didn't answer I went to the chemist's to see her."

Y/N's heart clenched. She had to admit it hurt that after fighting with Anna the first person Michael had wanted to talk to hadn't been Y/N, but Molly. He hadn't been seeing her long but he seemed pretty taken with her already. "Mmm."

Michael sighed. "I didn't see her so I asked after her, and tha chemist told me she was off for tha next month." 

Y/N tilted her head curiously. "She went on holiday and didn't tell ya?"

Michael shook his head. "She's off on her weddin' and honeymoon."

Y/N gasped. That definitely hadn't been what she was expecting Michael to say. "Tha' fuckin' bitch, I'll fuckin' kill her."

Michael gently grabbed her arm as she went to stand. "Nah, no need to be goin' doin' tha'. I'm grand."

Y/N sat back down. "No you're fuckin' not, Michael, otherwise ya wouldn't be sittin' on my sofa puttin' away beer like it's fuckin'  water right now."

Michael shook his head with a chuckle. "No, no yer right, I'm not, but I will be." 

Y/N's heart broke for him. "I'm so sorry, Mikey."

"Ah, don't go worrying yer pretty little head about me." Michael shrugged then moved a stray piece of hair from Y/N's face, his touch lingering on her cheek. "I'll be fine, darlin'. Not the first time I've slept with a married woman -- or in this case, engaged."

Y/N fought to keep her eyes from fluttering closed. She had fought against her feelings for Michael ever since they had met as teenagers. But he hadn't seemed interested in her in that way at the time and then Y/N had been busy with university, and by the time she was done with her schooling Michael had already had an affair with Amanda then married Alison and had Anna, and after that… well. He had spent 8 years away.

Y/N had also recently heard whisperings of Michael and Amanda possibly rekindling their affair, but had dismissed it after Michael had recently mentioned asking the pretty clerk at the chemist's out on a date.

She sat back, draining the last of her glass of wine.

Michael's brow furrowed. "You alrigh'?"

"Oh yeah, I'm grand," Y/N said, giving him a nudge in order to distract him from her flustered state.

She stood. "Another ale?"

Michael shook his head. "Ah, I probably shouldn't. Got ta' walk home."

"You can stay here tonight, ya know." Y/N headed towards the kitchen to pour herself another glass of wine. "You're always welcome."

"Ya sure I won't be a bother?" Michael asked. 

Y/N grabbed another beer for Michael and headed back into her living room. "Nah, of course not. Ya never are a bother, Mikey, you know tha'. The guest room is always open."

She handed Michael his beer and sat back down next to him. "'Sides, you can keep me from going out and doing something stupid, like slashing that little slag's tires or settin' her house on fire."

Michael chuckled. "I really didn't get far enough in ta where I knew where she lives."

"Fuckin' lucky for her then." Y/N took a sip of wine. "Anna will be okay, ya know that, right Mikey?"

Michael shook his head. and took a sip of his beer. "I'm just tryin' ta protect her, Y/N." 

Y/N studied him. "Just from Bren or from the rest of yer family too?"

Michael sighed. "I don't know. Both, I guess? I just… I don't want this for her, I -- after what happened ta Jamie I can't lose her too. I can't lose another child ta this life."

Y/N's heart broke all over again. "Ya won't, Mikey. Ya won't, because ya have me protectin' her. I love her like she was me own and I love you, ya know I'd die before I let anythin' happen to either of ya."

Michael looked down at the floor, silently contemplating something. "Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

Michael opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it, then opened it again, then after another moment of hesitation he cupped Y/N's chin in his hand and pressed his lips to hers, quickly moving his hand from her chin to the side of her neck as he kissed her again.

Y/N sucked in a shaky breath as Michael leaned back. Did that just fuckin' happen?

She opened her mouth, her eyes flitting across Michael's face as he looked at her as if he was waiting for her to slap him.

Before she could second-guess herself, she cupped Michael's face in her hands and pressed her lips back to his, pouring 20+ years of pent-up feelings into the kiss.

Michael responded quickly, shifting to lean Y/N back onto the sofa as he took control. "How long, pet?" he murmured against her lips.

Y/N gasped in a breath as Michael trailed hot kisses across her neck, his beard scratching deliciously against her skin. "Mikey, please…"

Michael growled against her throat. "I said, how fuckin' long, Y/N? How long have ya been wantin' me like I've been wantin' ya?"

Y/N hissed as Michael gave a gentle nip to her throat. "Ever since -- oh, fuck, Michael -- ever since I first clapped eyes on ya."

Michael groaned and leaned back to look at her. "Fuck, why didn't ya ever say anythin'?"

"Because I didn't think you were ever interested in me like tha'." Y/N sighed and sat up. "There was tha' thing with Amanda, and after tha' ya met Alison, then after she -- well, after ya came home, I thought about finally telling ya how I felt but ya were so focused on trying ta reunite with Anna and then Jamie died and there was tha' whole business with Eamon and the Batuks, and after ya came back home from tha' you were dealing with your da getting out of prison, and then it was too late because ya had started talking about Molly. Ya seemed happy fer once, Mikey, I didn't want ta get in the way of tha'." Y/N bit her lip. "Yer happiness means everythin' ta me."

Michael shook his head as he sat back on his knees. "Fuckin' hell, Y/N. You. You make me happy, ya always have." 

He paused as if a thought had struck him. "Is that why ya never got married?"

Y/N looked away so she didn't have to see pity written all over Michael's face. She had had boyfriends over the years that she had known Michael, of course, and more than the occasional one-night-stand or friend-with-benefits, but never anything overly serious.

She shrugged casually, pretending like the current conversation wasn't absolutely humiliating. "It's always been you."

Michael sighed. "Fuck."

Y/N shook her head, still refusing to look at him. "It's not a big deal, Mikey, it's not like I'm some sort of blushin' virgin or anythin'. I get my needs taken care of."

(And if she purposely only chose men with dark hair and haunted eyes to sleep with… well.)

Michael reached out and gently cupped her chin in his hand, turning her face back towards his. "Y/N, look at me, pet, please."

Y/N turned her gaze back towards him, unable to deny Michael such a simple request when he asked so sweetly.

Michael leaned in and pressed his lips to hers once again, his hand sliding from her chin to cup her neck again as he moved in to kiss her deeper.

Y/N melted against him, all of the tension leaving her body as Michael's tongue slid against hers.

Her hands scrabbled for purchase as he leaned her backwards again, finally finding the hem of Michael's sweater and shoving it up his body in order to get to bare skin.

Michael stopped kissing her just long enough to lean back and pull his sweater up and over his head, depositing it on the floor before finding her mouth once again.

Y/N ran her hands up Michael's chest, breathing out a light 'fuck' as Michael's hands slid underneath her tank top in an attempt to also disrobe her.

She sat up just enough to pull her tank top off, sighing in satisfaction as Michael's bare skin finally touched hers.

Michael began kissing his way further down her throat, his hand snaking up into her hair so he could tilt her head for better access.

Y/N whimpered as Michael's hand tightened slightly, her hips grinding up against his burdening erection. "Want ya inside me, Mikey."

Michael groaned. "Fuck, I don't have any johnnys on me."

Y/N shook her head. "It's okay. I'm on birth control and I get tested regularly for STIs."

She paused, realizing what Michael might have been insinuating. "Unless ya think we need one? In that case I have some in tha' ensuite."

Michael shook his head. "I don't -- I didn't go without, with Molly, if that's what yer askin', pet. And there hadn't been anyone else fer years before tha'."

Y//N nodded, her decision made. "Then take me to bed, Michael."

Michael wrapped his hands around her thighs. "Hold on ta me."

Y/N linked her arms around his neck. "I'm never lettin' go of ya again if I don't hafta."

Michael pressed his lips to hers once again as he lifted her to him, then stood and carried her to her bedroom.

He deposited her in her bed, wasting no time before climbing in after her.

"You're so fuckin' gorgeous, pet," Michael breathed, his eyes roaming Y/N's naked torso. "Been wantin' ya fer over twenty fuckin' years."

Y/N sucked in a breath at the revelation that Michael had been wanting her for just as long as she had been wanting him. "Why didn't you ever say anythin'?"

Michael shook his head. "Because I was tryin' ta protect ya. Ya didn't deserve ta get dragged inta all of my family's shite." 

He shrugged. "Besides, ya were much too good fer the likes a' me."

Y/N huffed out a breath. "Don't ya think tha' was my decision ta make?"

Michael scoffed. "Come on, Y/N, wha' good would I have been fer ya? Ya became a fuckin' doctor."

Yeah, because a' you, Michael."

Michael's brow furrowed. "Wha' -- wha' ya mean, ya became a doctor because a' me?" 

Y/N bit her lip. Might as well tell him. "I became a doctor because if anythin' happened on a job and you couldn't go to hospital because it seemed suspicious you could at least come ta me and I'd patch ya up." 

She smiled softly. "...Or because ya had punched a wall or fell and broke a glass door with yer head."

Michael looked flabbergasted. "But I thought --"

Y/N shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, I love savin' lives and I don't mind helpin' out yer family when they need patchin', but the most important life ta me is yers, Mikey. I'd do anythin' I possibly could ta keep ya safe." 

She reached up and caressed his face. "Like I said, I love ya."

"Fuck." Michael closed his eyes briefly, then upon reopening them he leaned down and kissed Y/N, this time leaving her breathless with passion. 

Y/N wrapped her arms around Michael's back, gasping in a breath as he kissed his way down her throat.

"So beautiful," Michael murmured, sliding his hands up Y/N's sides and trailing his thumbs under her breasts. "Fuckin' gorgeous, pet."

Y/N moaned as Michael circled the nipple of her left breast with his tongue, tangling her fingers into his hair and arching towards his mouth. "Mikey…"

"Mmm," Michael murmured. "Love tha' way ya say my name, like fuckin' music comin' out a' ya."

He wrapped his lips around her nipple, taking his time to tease it to a peak before switching to the other one.

Y/N gasped and arched into him again. "Fuck."

Michael hummed and let Y/N's nipple go with a soft 'pop'. "We're gettin' ta that, pet."

Y/N lifted her hips in permission as Michael's hands made their way to the waistband of her lounge pants. "Mikey… Mikey, love, need ya in me."

"Mm-mm." Michael shook his head as he slowly peeled Y/N's pants and underwear off. "Got ta taste ya first, darlin'."

Y/N whimpered, the thought of having Michael's mouth against her bare cunt making her clench around nothing.

Michael smirked as he trailed his hands up Y/N's bare legs, slowly parting them. "Oh, ya like that, do ya, pet? Ya like the thought of havin' my face buried between yer thighs, tastin' yer sweet nectar?"

Y/N moaned. "Fuck, yes, Mikey, please, need your mouth on me, love."

Michael licked his lips, his eyes glittering with desire. "Fuckin' hell, pet, yer fuckin' drippin' fer me."

Y/N let out a loud moan as Michael leisurely slid his tongue up her folds. 

Michael groaned. "Fuck, you taste so fuckin' sweet, darlin'. Wish I could've been eatin' this cunt out fer years."

Y/N hissed as Michael licked another stripe up her folds then circled her clit with his tongue. "Ah, fuck, Mikey…"

Her hands flew into Michael's hair as he pressed his tongue inside her. She had had a few lovers go down on her over the years -- some more-or-less semi enthusiastically -- but Michael ate her out like he was a man starved and she was a full-course meal.

Michael worked two fingers inside her as he removed his mouth from her cunt. "Want ya ta come fer me, pet. Come fer me and I'll give ya my cock like I know ya been needin'."

Y/N whimpered again, the familiar coil inside her tightening. "Please, Mikey."

Michael lowered his mouth to her once again, beginning to fuck her with his fingers as he sucked her sensitive bud in between his lips.

Y/N felt the coil getting tighter and tighter. "Fuck, yes, Mikey, please -- Ah!"

Michael pressed a hand to her stomach as Y/N came against his face, his mouth firmly attached to her clit as he worked her through her orgasm.

He kissed his way back up Y/N's body to her lips as he began undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans.

Y/N moaned at the faint tang of herself on Michael's tongue, reaching down blindly to help Michael shove his pants and boxers down. "Need yer cock, Mikey, want it so bad, love."

Michael finished divesting himself of his pants and positioned himself back over Y/N.

Y/N bit her lip in ecstasy as Michael stroked his cock through her folds a few times, coating himself in her slick before slowly pressing inside.

She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, the feel of Michael's bare cock inside of her unlike anything else she had ever experienced.

"--Ya alrigh', pet?"

Y/N opened her eyes to see Michael watching her worriedly. 

"I'm not hurtin' ya, am I?" he asked.

Y/N shook her head. "No, Mikey, feels so good, love."

Michael slowly withdrew until just the tip of his cock remained inside of her. 

He groaned. "Fuckin' hell, darlin', ya feel fuckin' incredible."

Y/N let out a gasp as Michael snapped his hips forward, burying himself in her as deeply as he could. "So do you, Mikey. Fuck, yer so fuckin' perfect."

Michael pressed his lips to the side of Y/N's neck, then began a slow, but firm pace.

The slick slide of Michael's cock in and out of Y/N quickly had a second orgasm approaching. "Mikey, I'm close, love."

Michael picked up his pace, fucking Y/N more firmly. "Did ya let any of the others inside ya like this, Y/N?" he growled. "Did ya let them feel yer tight cunt around their bare cocks?"

Y/N shook her head, crying out as Michael hit her sweet spot. "No, Mikey, just you, only ever you, love."

Michael groaned. "Can I come inside ya, pet?"

Y/N gasped. "Yes -- yes, Mikey, please. Want ta feel ya, love, need ta feel ya."

Michael reached down and began to circle Y/N's clit with his thumb. "Want ya to come with me, pet, want ta feel ya take me as deep inside ya as ya can."

Y/N began to feel the familiar coil tightening again. "Yes, Mikey, I'm close, love, please. Fill me, mark me, claim me, make me yers."

Michael let out a rumble from deep in his chest. "Yeah, pet? Want me ta ruin ya fer anyone else? Fuck a wee one into this tight cunt of yers, have my babe growin' inside ya?"

Y/N nodded, the coil getting ready to snap. "Yes, fuck, Mikey."

"Gonna fill ya with my cum, pet, keep fuckin' ya till I'm sure yer cunt has taken every last fuckin' drop." Michael hissed in a breath as his hips stuttered. "Fuck, Y/N --"

Y/N arched against him, the coil snapping once again. "Michael--"

Michael continued to thrust into her, finally slowing once he was satisfied.

He eased out of her and collapsed at her side, reaching for her and pulling her on top of him as he caught his breath.

Y/N hummed blissfully, resting her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist.

Michael sighed and slid his hands around Y/N's back. "It's always been you, too, love," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I never told ya sooner. I just wanted ta keep ya safe."

Y/N shook her head, placing a kiss right over Michael's heart. "It's alright. I understand."

She looked up at him. "So wha' happens now?" 

Michael smirked. "We go get a shower then come back for another go?"

Y/N huffed out a laugh. "You know what I mean, Michael."

Michael shook his head. "Can we talk about it in tha' mornin'?"

Y/N nodded, her heart sinking. Of course this is just a one-night thing for him.

She moved to get up. "Okay."

Michael tightened his hold on her, his expression quickly becoming concerned. "Hey, no, love, it's not what yer thinkin'. I want ta give this a go, I -- it's everythin' else I don't want ta have ta think about tonigh'. I just want ta be here with ya, that's all I'm sayin'."

He took a deep breath. "I love ya, Y/N. I'm never lettin' go of ya again if I don't hafta."

A smile spread across Y/N's face as Michael repeated her earlier words back to her. "I love ya too, Mikey."

She leaned up and gave Michael a kiss. "Come on. I've got plans for tha' shower."

#lotmf writes #michael kinsella x female reader #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella fanfic #michael kinsella smut #michael kinsella fluff #kin amc #IABY Masterlist

[mattmurdocksscars]

Hi friend!! 💕 I've got a request for your Spooktober! Can I get our lovely Mikey, a Werewolf AU, and the prompt "What a nice little sound, I think I'll bite there again"? 🙃

The full moon always brought out the beast in Michael. He had control over his shifting but it didn't change the fact that he became insatiable in every way. He wanted to run and fuck and go all night and as long as you gave him the green light, nothing would stop him.

Which is why you were currently confined to the bed, unable to walk after several rounds of sex. Yet Michael wasn't done with you, far from it. He settled between your legs and nuzzled your mound before turning his head and biting down on the soft flesh of your thigh. The whine that slipped from your lips was nothing sort of sin and Michael smirked.

"What a nice little sound, I think I'll bite there again." He rumbled, golden eyes flashing with mischief. True to his word, he bit there again, sucking and nibbling the flesh until a hickey formed. He continued like this on both thighs, leaving his mark with pride. He was also giving you a chance to recuperate some before he continued, something you appreciated.

"Mikey, I-" You were cut off by a whimper that burst from your chest when Michael suddenly kissed your clit. He grinned against you.

"Yes, pet?"

"I don't know how much more I can take." Yiu admitted, body exhausted.

"Do I need ta stop?" He asked, pulling back to look up at you in concern. Michael would only ever push you as far as you were willing to go and that always made your heart swell.

"I don't know. Can we take a break? Please?" Immediately, Michael climbed his way up your body and laid next to you, pulling your body into the safety of his arms. You placed your head and a hand on his chest and breathed deeply.

"O' course, pet. Ya just let me know what ya need or want. I'll get it for ya."

"Just hold me. I need you close right now." Michael rumbled lowly beneath you and you smiled softly.

"Nothing could take me from ya, love. I've got ya."

Later, the two of you would go back at it but for now, Michael kept his promise and held you close.

#michael kinsella x reader #werewolf!michael kinsella #michael kinsella smut #spooktober

[theradioactivespidergwen]

michael kinsella likes to wake you up with his head between your thighs BYE

GET BACK HERE NONNIE! I think you're on to something...

(Also, this gif. Boy what that mouth do?!)

Sleepyhead pussy drunk Mikey below the cut.

You fell asleep in his sweater last night. Michael loves it when you wear his clothes, because your scent lingers on them, and it's comforting for him. He woke up with an insatiable need to taste you, but you looked so peaceful that he almost didn't want to wake you.

He gently pulled the covers from your body, and seated himself between your legs. You stirred slightly, but you quickly fell back to sleep, so he gently spread your legs wider. He slid your panties to the side and put his mouth on your pussy, starting with gentle licks with the flat of his tongue. You stirred again, and for a moment you thought you were dreaming, until you opened your eyes to see Mikey's fluffy brown hair between your legs.

The moan that escaped your lips was music to his ears, and he paused for a moment to give you a sleepy "G'mornin' love" before diving back in.

You tangled your fingers in his hair as he turned his attention to your clit, gently sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves. He paused again, and you whined as he started toying with the waistband of your panties.

"Can I take these off?" he whispered.

You nodded and he hooked his fingers in the elastic to pull them off your body. He took a moment to drink in the sight of your bare cunt exposed to him, with your top half covered by his sweater.

"Fuck yer gorgeous," he breathed out before taking his place between your legs once again.

He continued alternating between licking and sucking, and you were coming undone on his tongue. You were so close to sweet release, and Michael could tell, so he applied just a bit more pressure to get you there. Your legs shook, you screamed, and you gently moved his face away from your cunt before he got you overstimulated. He climbed on top of you to kiss you so you could taste the tang of your arousal on his tongue.

"G'mornin' indeed," you laughed.

"I think ya might like me wakin' ya up like that," he crooned.

"I sure do, but I hope you saved room for breakfast, cause I'm starvin'."

*runs away again*

#mandy answers #michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella smut

[bellaxgiornata]

Keep Me Warm

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: After Michael cancels your date night because something came up with his family, you're surprised to find him on your doorstep drenched and shivering from the rain.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ because this is mainly just smut, friends

a/n: It has been far too long that I've been writing for Michael without giving him smut and that changes now! This one was also was written for Mandy's Sweater Weather Challenge by the wonderful @she-likesorchids using the prompt "Get inside, you're all wet!" Feedback is always appreciated!

Warmly cocooned in your navy blue blanket, you were curled up on your sofa with the glow from your television softly washing over you in your sitting room. Your empty wine glass sat long forgotten on your coffee table beside an empty takeout container, the buzz from the wine still lingering in your system and relaxing you further into the cushions. While you sat comfortably enraptured by the romantic comedy you’d decided to put on for the evening, the soft patter of autumn rain and the distant roll of thunder enveloped your house outside. 

Initially you’d hoped to be spending your Saturday night with Michael, not alone on your sofa watching fictional couples falling in love. The pair of you were supposed to have gone out for dinner tonight for what would have been your third date, but something had come up with his family’s business–which you knew he’d been trying to find a way out of lately. He’d been incredibly apologetic when he’d called you a few hours ago to cancel, and you’d been understanding but secretly disappointed because it had been a long awaited third date. 

You’d had a crush on Michael since you first met him just over a year ago, having accidentally bumped into him at the market while picking out produce. The pair of you had gotten together for friendly reasons after a handful of more fortuitous run-ins at the market–going book shopping, on coffee dates, or having occasional dinners at your house–but they had always been under the pretense of friendship. Until you’d accidentally slipped up and blurted that you’d found him attractive a month ago and he’d shortly afterwards asked you on a date.

And tonight, after that date, you’d admittedly been hoping to do more than just exchange a few sweet kisses with him.

Though you pushed those thoughts aside, trying to ignore that lingering bit of disappointment you’d spent your evening attempting to drown out with the takeout and wine. Michael had rescheduled with you for next Saturday night at least. And, if you were really that desperate, it wasn’t like you couldn’t have a date with your vibrator before bed tonight, even if you’d have preferred Michael.

A handful of hurried, sharp raps against your front door abruptly rang out through your house, breaking you from your thoughts. You jumped on the sofa at the unexpected knocking, startling at the sound as your heart skipped a beat in your chest. Eyes darting to your front door across the room, you felt a bolt of fear quickly shoot through you. Who would’ve been stopping by unannounced this late and in the middle of a storm? 

When another round of knocks sounded a few moments later, this time not as urgent as before, you hesitantly began to unwrap yourself from within the comfortable and safe confines of your blanket. Leaning forward, you pushed the pause button on the television remote beside your wine glass before standing up. Cautiously you made your way over to the front door, nervously unlocking it before very slowly pulling it open.

A surprised gasp slipped out of you when you found Michael drenched on your front step, his dark hair matted to his head from the rain. A few beads of water were dripping down his forehead and his chin, the black sweater he was wearing clinging to his muscled upper torso. Your eyes were unable to resist lowering and lingering on the visible definition of his body beneath the soaked material, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight. Momentarily you wondered how he'd look without the sweater until a crack of distant thunder quickly brought your attention back up to Michael’s face. He was sheepishly smiling back at you. 

"Michael!" you exclaimed in surprise, your brain abruptly restarting as you stepped to the side and quickly waved him into your house. "Get inside, you're all wet!"

Following your order, Michael stepped inside past you, his arms wrapping around himself as he did. You closed the door after him before turning back around. He was still shooting you that sheepish smile, his sopping wet clothes dripping water onto your wood floor. 

"'M really sorry to pop in on ya like this, pet," he told you.

"What're you doing out walking in the freezing rain, Mikey?" you asked, concern creasing your brow. "There's a storm going on and you're out wandering around in it. And I thought you had a…family thing tonight?"

Michael unwrapped one arm from around himself, awkwardly rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. His gaze dropped down to the floor, that bit of timidness you sometimes saw in him on full display at the moment. Somehow that shyness only ever made you like him more.

"I don't–don't exactly know what came over me but I just–just had to get away from that house tonight. And my family–" he broke off with a grimace, shaking his head. "It just was not a good night and I needed to blow off some steam. And unfortunately it started to downpour while I was out walkin'. Sort of…somehow found myself here."

He wrapped his arm back around himself, hugging his chest as his gaze remained on your floor. Your heart ached for him. You knew how much he wanted out of his family’s drug dealing business and how they were making his life more difficult because of it. Though when you saw him visibly shudder from the cold, your concern for him in the moment took right back over. 

"Shit, you must be freezing," you said, crossing the distance between you both.

Gently you rested your hands over his, hissing in surprise at how cold his actually were to the touch. Michael's head rose up as he caught your eye, a small grin on his lips as you covered his hands with yours, hoping to help warm them.

"Well, I'll tell ya it wasn't the smartest thing I've done today, walkin' in the freezing rain like that," he replied with a laugh. "Then comin' here and botherin' ya."

"You're not bothering me, Mikey," you assured him, swiftly gesturing a hand to your sitting room where your empty remnants of dinner still sat on the coffee table. "It's not like I was in the middle of anything."

Michael glanced over his shoulder at your coffee table, a frown slipping onto his mouth as another chill raced through him. With your hands still wrapped around his, you could feel the way his body had shook this time. 

"Pet, I'm–I'm so sorry I canceled on ya tonight," Michael said, his teeth briefly chattering as he spoke. "Didn't mean to ruin your evenin'."

"You didn't ruin my evening, but now I'm concerned about you. You’re clearly cold," you told him, your hands rubbing over the backs of his. "I can offer you a towel to dry off a bit, but maybe you'd like to use the shower to warm up instead? I can throw your wet clothes in the dryer for a few minutes while you do. Might help you warm up faster."

One corner of Michael’s lips slowly curved upwards into a cheeky smirk. The sight of it on his face was quickly drawing heat into your cheeks and you hoped he couldn’t tell.

"Are ya just tryin' to get me outta my clothes, pet?" Michael teased. 

"What?" you gasped, eyes wide. "No! I just thought that you–you might–"

"Relax," he said with a chuckle. "I'm just teasin’ ya. But…I wouldn't mind takin' ya up on the offer. I am freezin' my arse off right 'bout now."

Releasing his hands, you stepped back and nodded vigorously at him. "Yeah, right. Of course. Just uh, just hop in the shower and leave your clothes on the floor next to the door. I'll throw them in the dryer when you're in the shower."

Michael nodded, slipping his wet shoes off of his feet where he stood. You watched him, gnawing nervously on your bottom lip and struggling not to picture him naked in your shower. Your eyes once again lingered on the way his damp sweater clung to the muscles in his back as he bent down, picking up his shoes from the floor before walking past you and placing them on the shoe rack beside your door. He sent you a smile as he stood back up, one that had your face further flaming.

"Just goin' to grab that shower then," he said, gesturing behind himself with one hand while the other rubbed his arm for warmth. 

You cleared your throat, a strained smile forming on your lips as your heart began to beat a little harder in your chest. Michael had always had an effect on you, but it had become vastly harder to ignore now that you knew he had feelings for you, too. But as you told him where to find the clean towels in the bathroom, you couldn’t help but feel desperate to follow after him and join.

As Michael made his way towards your bathroom, softly shuttling the door behind himself and turning on the shower, you tried to give him time to get undressed and into it before you grabbed his clothes to put into the dryer. Attempting to distract yourself from the rush of inappropriate thoughts suddenly racing through your mind, you headed back into the sitting room and turned off your television before focusing on cleaning up your empty glass of wine and the take out container on your coffee table. 

By the time you'd finished cleaning up and straightening your house a bit, you figured Michael would be in the shower and you could step in and grab his clothes. Making your way down the hallway and towards the bathroom, you stopped beside it, leaning up against the wall and knocking lightly against the door. 

"I'm just going to grab your clothes to toss into the dryer, if that's alright?" you called through the door to Michael.

"Thank ya, pet," Michael called back.

Closing your eyes, you mentally prepared yourself to not try to immediately sneak a peak of him through the glass shower door. Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes and slowly twisted the handle of the door, keeping your gaze averted towards the ground as you opened it. 

Exactly as you’d asked, he'd placed his clothes on the floor beside the door. But just as you reached down to grab the damp pile to put into the dryer, you heard the glass door of the shower open and you startled at the sound. Unable to stop yourself, your eyes darted up to see Michael’s face poking out from around the glass. Bottom lip rolling between your teeth, you bit down hard and forced yourself to keep your focus on just his face, though you knew if you looked down–just for a second–you’d get a view of his naked body behind the frosted and steamed up shower door. And it was truly hard to resist that temptation, especially with the way he was shooting you a knowing smile right now.

"Unless ya want to join me?" he asked.

Your brows jumped up onto your forehead in surprise. That was not what you’d expected to hear him say, but nevertheless, a spark of excitement shot through your body at his invitation. 

“If ya want, of course,” he added. “Wouldn’t mind ya helpin’ to keep me warm, pet.”

It felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs with the way he’d said that in such a sultry tone, continuing to stare at you while he was entirely naked from the inside of your shower. Swallowing hard, you tried to regain the ability to speak again before he took your silence to mean the opposite of what it really meant.

“I–yeah, if you–you’d like,” you stammered.

You dropped his clothes from your hand, hearing the way they landed back to the floor with a soft, wet thump . As you stepped further into the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door after yourself, Michael slid the shower door wider open, giving you an unobstructed view of himself. Hands grabbing onto the hem of your shirt, your eyes dropped down, tongue darting out and wetting your lips when you saw that he was already half hard.

“Might’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout ya already,” he confessed.

His words went straight to your cunt as you began to remove your shirt, though you saw his eyes lower towards your chest just before you pulled it up and over your head. A needy heat began to grow between your thighs as you tossed the shirt onto the bathroom floor. Reaching behind yourself, you undid the clasp of your bra, a thrill racing up your spine as you watched the longing grow on Michael’s face, his eyes still fixed on your chest. You intentionally slid the straps of your bra down your arms slowly, taking your time removing it before you tossed it aside. You saw the way Michael’s nostrils flared as you began to slip out of your sweatpants and underwear, his jaw tensed as you tugged them halfway down your legs until they dropped to the bathroom floor beside his wet clothes. 

As you stepped out of them, entirely naked now, Michael’s eyes openly and hungrily raked over your body. It felt like his gaze alone was raising goosebumps over your bare skin as you made your way over to the shower. He moved out of the way of the entrance, giving you room to step inside beside him under the warm spray. The water felt good against your skin, managing to heat you further as that sexy smirk only grew on Michael’s lips.

His hands gently landed on your hips, eagerly smoothing his palms over your slippery and damp skin. Your own hands lightly landed on the thick, wet hair along his chest. Appreciatively you began carding your fingers through it, nails lightly scratching along his chest as you admired the muscles beneath your fingers. Michael hummed out a pleased noise in response, his hands gripping your hips a bit more roughly in return.

Eventually your hands rose back up his chest, your palms splayed wide along the width of it just below his collarbones. You gently pushed Michael another couple of steps backwards into the shower, your confidence growing along with his erection. Reaching one hand behind yourself to close the shower door, you felt Michael’s hands make their way further up your naked body, gliding over the sides of your ribcage as a shudder ran through you.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Michael murmured, his eyes appreciatively roaming over you.

A soft gasp left you as Michael’s hands slid just a bit higher, eventually coming to palm your breasts. He kneaded them in his hands, your eyelids fluttering as you fought to keep them open. It should’ve been impossible how good he was making you feel with only his touch, yet a moan vibrated up from out of your throat and only further encouraged him. As he continued to knead your breasts in his hands, your right hand snaked its way up over his shoulder until you were wrapping your arm around his neck, pulling his naked body in towards yours. You felt his hard cock pressing against you instantly and your cunt throbbed in anticipation of him finally fucking you with it. 

“You know,” you began softly, leaning in a bit closer to him, “I was thinking this wasn’t going to happen tonight.”

The corner of Michael’s lips twitched as he lowered his face towards yours, closing the gap even further as his hands released your breasts, dropping back down to grip your hips again. They involuntarily jerked towards him at the touch, a faint moan slipping out of you as more wet heat grew between your thighs. 

Fuck you wanted him so goddamn bad.

“Yeah?” he asked, clearly pleased with your response. “This what ya had planned for after dinner tonight, pet?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed out.

Your left hand lowered until you were wrapping it around the base of his cock, grinning at the way he jolted under your touch. Michael let out a low groan of pleasure after, his eyes becoming half-lidded as you gradually began to stroke the length of him. His forehead dropped down to yours, his warm breath tickling you with each exhale.

“Feeling any warmer?” you asked him.

“Mmm, much,” he whispered. 

Continuing to stroke him in your hand, your movements languid and unhurried, you closed the last bit of space between your mouths. Michael’s lips still felt slightly chilled against yours as you kissed him, but they were as plush as you’d last remembered them being. And like hell if he didn’t know what to do with that mouth of his, too.

Though it seemed like he was intentionally teasing you now with the way his lips moved so delicately against yours, kissing you so gentle and slow that you soon found yourself impatient for more. Your arm tightened around his neck, drawing you in tighter to the front of him as a needy noise slipped out of your mouth and into his. One of his hands on your hip began gradually sliding its way down the outside of your thigh until it came to a stop, pausing before changing its trajectory. His fingers began to reach ever nearer to your cunt and you soon found yourself whining against his mouth in anticipation of his touch. 

The hand you had on the back of his neck made its way further upwards into his hair, gripping a fistful of his wet, dark strands as your hips ground forward into his hand in needy desperation. Michael only continued to kiss you with that same sluggish pace, the tips of his fingers lightly grazing your clit as his other palm rubbed slow circles along your outer thigh.

Another pitiful whine left you when Michael’s lips broke away from yours, hovering just an inch from your mouth. Your hand began to stroke his cock faster in desperation, but Michael only nudged his nose softly against yours.

“Mikey,” you whimpered. “I need you.”

The deep, resonate chuckle that fell from him next echoed faintly in the shower. He hummed out a playful noise, the tip of one of his fingers intentionally brushing your clit with just a bit more pressure than before. You sucked in an audible breath at his touch, your eyes snapping shut.

“I can tell, pet,” he teased. “Though I think the question now is: d’ya want me to touch ya or d’ya want me to fuck ya?”

A shiver ran through you at his question. Truthfully you wanted both of those things, but you weren’t sure you could wait much longer for him, not with the way your cunt was practically dripping in barely contained anticipation already. Maybe once you were out of the shower you two could take your time in your bedroom with each other, but if he didn’t stuff you with his cock sometime soon, you were certainly going to lose your mind.

“I want you to fuck me, Mikey,” you answered, trying and failing to hide the absolute need in your voice. “We can save the foreplay for later. I just–just need you right now. Please .”

He nearly purred in response, the pad of one of his fingers sliding between your wet folds. You gasped in surprise, your hips involuntarily grinding down against his lone finger, hungry for more of him. 

“Yeah?” he mused. “Goin’ to want more than one go, are ya?”

You whimpered when his finger found your soaked entrance, gently toying with you. You leaned forward, roughly connecting your mouth back to his, tired of the waiting and the teasing. When the tip of his finger briefly dipped only partially inside of you before retreating, your teeth clamped down onto his bottom lip and tugged . A rumbling growl reverberated in Michael’s chest instantly, his expression suddenly darkening.

“Can't wait anymore, can ya? Then turn ‘round for me, pet,” Michael ordered huskily, gesturing with his head to the glass of the shower. “Face the door.”

Without hesitation you did what he asked, both of your hands landing flat on the cool glass of the shower door. Michael’s hands grabbed your hips, pulling them towards himself as he positioned you. Your eyes closed when you felt one of his hands running along your ass, admiring the soft, wet flesh as he lined himself up with your entrance. The warm spray of the shower overhead was falling onto your back now, the chill of the air on your damp breasts along with the anticipation of Michael filling you causing your nipples to stiffen.

Thankfully Michael had decided to stop teasing you, not making you wait much longer before you felt him push just the tip of himself inside of you. Your head rolled back over your shoulders, a contented groan slipping out between your lips. He already felt so fucking good and he wasn’t even fully inside of you. Hands pressing firmer against the shower door, you whimpered as your cunt squeezed the bit of him inside of you. Michael loosed a low moan of his own that had your breath catching.

"Want all of you, Mikey," you breathed out. "Please."

Very gradually he pushed himself further into you, another moan slipping out between your lips at the slow, delicious drag of him filling you so fully. Seconds later you felt his now warm mouth landing on your shoulder, trailing soft kisses down the length of it as he continued to gradually sink himself into you. 

“ Michael ,” you moaned out, fingers curling against the glass. 

He felt so damn good as he bottomed out inside of you, your cunt pleasantly stretching to fit the girth of him. Another whimper slipped out of you, your head dropping farther back over your shoulder as Michael pressed the front of himself into you, his thighs flush to the back of yours now. 

“That’s it, pet,” he whispered against your shoulder, lips brushing your wet skin as he spoke. “So good for me. Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for so, so long with ya. Goin' to make sure ya know how much I been wantin' ya."

You inhaled sharply at his words, the hair raising along your arms at the sound of them whispered so close to your ear. With his left hand still firmly gripping your waist, his hips carefully drew back as his right hand flew forward and landed on the top of yours. Entwining his fingers with your own, your hand still pressed against the cold glass, he began to thrust himself back into you. 

That first glide of him sent your head further back, landing on his shoulder behind you with how close he was standing. Michael’s fingers tightened around yours, a rumbling moan vibrating deep in his chest that you felt against your back as he began to pick up his pace. As he continued to slam into you over and over, the wet sound loud in the shower, his head turned as he focused on you.

“ Fuck ya feel so goddamn perfect ,” he panted out, his eyes tightening in pleasure as his hips snapped forward yet again. "So wet for me, pet."

Your cunt gripped him at the praise, your eyes closing. He continued to steadily fuck you against the glass, soft grunts falling from his lips and right into your ear with each sharp snap of his hips, the noise drowning out the spray of the shower. That coiling pleasure in your stomach began to tighten, your left hand leaving the glass to reach back behind you, grabbing onto the back of Michael’s neck as he continued to fuck you from behind. Michael hissed in pleasure when your nails raked up the sensitive skin there, his mouth still beside your ear. 

"Don't stop, Mikey," you whispered. "Feels so good."

“Not stoppin’ ‘til you’re cummin’ on my cock, pet,” he panted out, his hips still enthusiastically ramming into you repeatedly. “Want to hear ya whimperin’ my name between those pretty lips o’ yours.”

A soft whine dragged itself out of your throat, your eyes tightening closed at his words. His hand tightened around yours on the glass as he continued to fuck you, a delicious pleasure continually building low in your core. 

Between the fervid thrusts of his cock and the way his damp body had molded itself to the back of yours, you quickly began to feel yourself climbing that peak. You were nearing the moment you’d crest it with each and every vigorous slam of his thick cock hitting you exactly where you needed him, and you could feel that resulting delicious sting shooting its way up your spine until you were literally panting heavily, your head still limp against his shoulder behind you. 

“Mikey– fuck , yes–so close, baby,” you breathed out.

At your words, he picked up his pace to something fierce, his left hand snaking its way down your hip until his fingers were rubbing tantalizing circles over your clit, the heel of his palm pressing you back into him. Your eyes rolled back behind closed lids, mouth going slack instantly as a moan tumbled out of you. 

As he continued to roughly fuck you into the cool glass of your shower, your left hand slid higher up the back of his neck, fisting a handful of his hair as you felt the wash of pleasure race its way up through your body. Moments later you came hard on his cock, crying his name out loudly as it echoed off the tile of the shower walls. It wasn’t long before Mikey was soon following after you, his hips picking up their pace as he let out a low, sinful groan that left you whimpering in his arms. Your entire body soon went limp against him behind you as he filled you with his warm release, your head entirely weightless as it rested on his broad shoulder behind you where it rose and fell with the heaving of his chest. His loud, panting breaths filled your ears as you gradually opened your eyes and took in the sight of him.

The moment his gaze caught yours, a drowsy smile lit up his face while you sent him one clearly drunk on bliss and pleasure. With a soft chuckle he leaned forward, placing a few gentle kisses to your temple before he slowly slipped himself out from inside of you. 

“Hadn’t expected my evenin’ to go this way,” Michael admitted, his arm wrapping around your waist and snuggly pulling you against the front of himself. “But I’m certainly not regrettin’ that walk in the rain now.”

You giggled, your eyes dropping closed again as your left hand wrapped over the top of his. Both of your other hands were still enjoined on the glass door of the shower, Michael squeezing yours affectionately in response as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, the rasp of his beard on your skin sending a shiver through you.

“I’m certainly not regretting it now, either,” you teased back. “And maybe once you finally get warm after that walk, we can go not regret it a little more, if you’d like?”

“Mmm,” he hummed out beside your ear, his lips dropping down to lightly kiss your neck. “I think I’m already warm after that, pet. Wouldn’t mind takin’ ya to bed though.”

A grin slipped over your mouth as you slightly turned in Michael’s hold, facing him just a bit more. “Unfortunately I didn't have a chance to dry your clothes," you pointed out. "So they're still soaked."

He placed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss on your skin and a rush of heat once again raced through your body. Soon after, Michael’s teeth began to leave light nips along your neck, his hand reaching out behind himself to turn off the shower. 

"I assure ya, pet,” he murmured into your skin, "I'm not goin' to need them tonight."

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella smut #michael kinsella #kin amc #mandy's sweater weather challenge

[frankcastlescumslut]

I have never seen Kin a day in my life but this gif is doing something to me…

you’ve been desperate disobedient and touching yourself while he’s been away, and you’re caught redhanded.

instead of punishing you with a spanking or denying an orgasm, he quietly returns from the bathroom with a towel rolled up, prompting you to straddle it.

“go on.”

you obviously obey, trying to look annoyed, but the flush of your cheeks betray you. your core throbs against the towel- the foreign texture rubbing against your swollen clit bringing you close to your orgasm embarrassingly too soon.

“please.” he knows what you’re asking for but he makes you clarify. “I want you to touch me, please. I want you to make me cum.”

“you really believe I’m going to let a brat like you cum properly?”

#charlie cox #michael kinsella #michael kinsella smut #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x afab!reader #michael kinsella blurb #i dont even know the plot of this show but the gif was just too much for me #i’m sorry #kin amc

[farfromstrange]

Butterfly Effect | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 2: Butterfly Pea Flower On Ice

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Barista!Reader (afab)

Summary: Michael has a rough night. When he finds his way to you after only barely keeping himself from making a mistake, he’s miserable and you are… well, he’s not quite sure what you are, but it involves two rusty nails and a wooden sign that just won’t stay where it is, so in need for a distraction and slightly worried about you, he decides to help you out. You reward him by making him yet another extraordinary coffee drink from the menu. Or, you make another sneaky move at Michael after he’s so kind to help you out, hoping he will someday act on your hopeless flirt attempts.

Warnings: Angst (18+ MINORS DNI), past trauma, self-harm, blood, panic attack, Mikey just hates himself, but then there’s some fluff, bad flirting, attempt at humor, and then some angst again.

Word Count: 7.7k

A/n: This time, I dive more into Michael’s mental state. So this is angsty, then he gets some comfort from you, but then it gets angsty again because well, it’s Mikey. He’s stuck in an endless cycle, it seems. I feel so bad for him… but at least he gets a lil' hug?? I hope you like it!

Read Part 1 Here...

His sleep is restless. The memories cage him in like a wild animal. One second, he can breathe, the next the world around him turns into a blur and the oxygen in his lungs gets lost. It’s like someone is sitting on his chest and he can’t escape their claws as they tear him to shreds. 

He wakes up drenched in sweat and tears. The sheets stick to his clammy skin. On weak knees, he makes his way to the bathroom. The floor seems to disappear as his past pulls it out from under him. 

Pictures flash across his mind. His thoughts start a downward spiral again, one he can’t seem to stop. He’s panting, pathetically so. The cold water he splashes on his face does little to soothe the burning ache that seems to burn through every nerve like acid. 

Michael clings to the edge of the sink. He wants to shut it off; he wants to stop thinking. He wants to stop remembering. He wants to stop being him. The things he did… every time he closes his eyes, he sees the blood that once covered the floor of his apartment, the bullet holes in the walls. He thinks of Anna. It’s his fault she lost her mother. It’s his fault she’s traumatized. All of it – all of it, his fault. 

As he stares at himself in the mirror, he finds only a shell staring back at him. So many people have tried telling him that he’s the victim, that perhaps he is sick, but the only sick thing about him is his mind, and he feels entirely responsible for that.

His fist lands in the glass of the mirror. It cracks. The glass is thin and the shards instantly scratch the surface of his knuckles, some of them digging into the skin and painting the sink beneath him red with his blood. 

Only when the sharp pain reaches his consciousness, Michael finds a way back to himself. He stares at the split skin, watches the blood pool out of the wounds, and the tremor turns into a quiver of shock. It burns, but it burns so good. 

He catches the blood with a towel. The first-aid kit isn’t far. Though for a second he considers if he should even allow himself to do so. The pain reminds him that he is alive, and the blood writes a poem on the tiles. A poem of hate, broken love, and self-destruction. There is no hope, only pain, and the blood is a reminder of that. He may be only human, but all the destruction in his life, he caused himself. His blood is a reminder that no one controls him quite like himself, even though he likes to blame it on his surname.

A few doors down, the light at Jimmy’s and Amanda’s place is still on, though they don’t hear the ear-piercing scream that passes Michael’s lips and leaves him crying on the bathroom floor. It’s something they don’t know and he wishes they never have to see. He’s broken, maybe even beyond repair, and he has no one to blame but himself, and that makes him even more miserable.

The pain eats him alive, slowly but steadily. He can’t move, he can’t speak, he can’t breathe. His hand is bandaged now, though only poorly. There is not much more he can take. The tiles are cold, but he can barely feel them. The scream still echoes minutes later, and his voice sounds deafening in his ears.

He just wants this to stop.

As the pictures start flashing slower, the blood loss and fatigue settling into his bones, he remains on the floor. He doesn’t have the strength to get back up. His tears stain his cheeks and wet his beard, and the blood from his knuckles starts seeping through the bandage and back onto the floor. He can’t be bothered to clean any of it. 

His eyes flutter, but he doesn’t fall asleep. He’s not sure what state he is in, but he’s not alive. He can’t be alive. Everything’s surreal. The pain hit him hard and now he feels nothing. In a matter of a few seconds, everything stops and he becomes numb, but the numbness hurts even more, and that makes him scream until he has no voice left. And then he gets quiet again. 

Ever quiet, and shy Michael who’s only like this because he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to say because he’s scared of himself, and it’s best to keep himself locked away than hurt someone he cares about again. He loves his family, but this is his future he’s talking about, and his daughter… Anna needs a father, and he’s failed her before. He doesn’t want to be the same failure anymore, even though he knows that by lying on the floor and forcing himself to bleed out a wound he inflicted on himself, he has already failed her again because he just wants to give up. And he’s starting to think that there might not be much more he can do, anyway.

Michael wallows until the sun comes up, then he gets up as if nothing happened. 

He sits in a restaurant for a while, staring out of the window. Anna looks so much older now than when he left her. She reminds him of her mother. With her uniform and her little backpack, she walks across the street Michael is observing, heading toward the school that is hiding behind the trees. 

She always takes the bus from home. Home with her grandma, he knows. But that’s not where she should be. She should be home with him. She probably doesn’t even know he’s out yet, and he’s not sure if he wants her to find out before he can even account for the fact that he’s made changes. 

He needs to get a job, get his life back on track, and fight for her. He’s sworn himself as much. But as he watches her walk past him without even looking through the window of the restaurant, his heart aches and it breaks because damn it, what was he thinking? He’s her father, but she barely knows him, and he’s far from being a good father figure. He’s not sure he can ever be. 

Paying for his one black coffee, Michael heads out. The cold air hits him. He shivers. He’s not freezing, not at all. Truth hurts, and he hates that it does. It makes him feel so small, and useless like he can’t achieve anything other than cause chaos. And the worst part is, he is completely and utterly alone in this. 

His feet carry him down a familiar street until he stops in front of the same place he sought solace in the day before.

You’re rearranging the lunch offers sign right by the door, not even noticing that he’s standing on the other side of the street, observing your every movement. 

Michael hesitates. It’s not a good idea, but his apartment feels suffocating and he can’t talk to his family because they don’t understand. They know he wants his daughter back, they just don’t understand the sacrifices he’s willing to make, that he has to make, and he doesn’t want to find himself in the same shit position again that even led him to this point eight years ago. 

This is where he lands, the Butterfly Effect café and he can’t quite believe his eyes that you’re truly there. 

He still has the empty coffee cup from the day before standing on the dining table at home. 

You’re completely oblivious to his presence. Instead, you turn back around and walk back behind the counter. 

The café isn’t busy yet. You have just opened your doors, and since you’re on the early bird shift today, your job is to prepare everything and make sure everything’s perfect by the time the first batch of customers comes around. The coffee machines are all working, the plants have been watered, and the display with your baked goods is up and ready. Except for the sign with the menu above your head. 

Every last drink was handwritten by you, and the place is perfect, right where everyone can see it. You had to do a few minor changes before opening and decided to take it down to make the chalk letters look their best. Ever since then, you haven’t been able to get it back up. The wood is hanging on by a last nail, but you can’t seem to reach it without a proper ladder – you’re currently kneeling on a very high counter – and to you, it seems straight until you move away and it no longer does, and the fact that the sign keeps slipping infuriates you. If you can’t keep it up there, you have to find another way and then the aesthetic will be ruined. And your boss will murder you, so you have to try, but every time you try, you find yourself beaten again. 

It’s you against a wooden board that’s been written on with chalk and a few rusty nails. You’ve mastered harder tasks. Yet, you keep failing.  

You take another step back and look at the sign. It’s still tilted slightly to the right, and keeping it up there might be considered a hazard with how unsafe it looks. 

The ringing of the bell above the door goes right over your head. You’re too frustrated to focus. If someone wanted to steal the register, they might as well have succeeded. 

“That’s a bit wonky,” a voice pipes up behind you. 

You jump. You had gotten so used to the silence of being alone in the café, you forgot that you opened the doors to the public before you started struggling with the sign. 

You almost fall off the counter when you turn to look at him. “Jesus!” you curse. 

Michael takes an instinctive step forward. He’s not close enough to catch you, but he likes to think he is. He could get behind the counter and make sure you don’t trip and break your neck, but that would be pushing boundaries he doesn’t like. 

“Careful,” he says. 

“I’m alright.” You pray to the rusty nail to hold the sign for long enough so you can serve him – he’s here for coffee, right? “I was just trying to fix the sign, but seems like it can’t be fixed.” You throw your hands up. “This day is going majorly well!”

He looks back at you, the broken expression that has yearned for an escape replaced by a flicker of regret. He walked the streets of the new yet familiar prison that has become his life to get here. He got out, but he hasn’t been able to come home; he wonders if he can even come home when there is no actual home to come back to. Everything feels so strange now, even the walls he’s living in. They hurt the most of them all.

“I can go if this isn’t the right time.” The last thing he wants is to be an inconvenience. He shifts his weight onto his heels, ready to turn around and run. “This was a bad idea,” he murmurs, his eyebrows furrowing close enough to form a deep crease between them, “Sorry.”

You stop and stare at him, your brain processing his face and his words at the same time. He’s wearing a different sweater underneath his jacket today. It’s crinkled and in need of some ironing, but he doesn’t seem to care much. 

You see his mind making the decision to leave for whatever reason that you can’t tell, and you reach out. “No!” you’re quick to say. 

Something tells you letting him go is a bad idea, and not just because he’s a possible paying customer. There is a reason you wrote the note on his coffee cup the other day and it has never wavered. It persists. You’re surprised to see him, sure, but you also remember telling him to come back someday, and he did. 

Your words sound a little more desperate than you intended them to. 

There is something different about him today. His eyes are sunken; he looks like he hasn’t slept all night, or he didn’t sleep well, at least. You feel a bubble of concern grow in your chest and spread through your entire body. Like the roots of a tree that wrap around anything they can find. It makes its home there. 

Michael stops when you say, “You don’t have to leave. This is an open café.”

He turns back to you, his expression unreadable. He was an easier book to decipher before, now he just seems cold. There is a fire burning bright inside of him and he is about to implode, but he tries so hard to hide it, you can’t see behind the iron curtain he has lowered around himself. He craves coffee, which is why his feet carried him to you, but he also needs more. He hates that he needs more. He hates that he doesn’t know what he needs, but he can’t be alone. He’s lost. He’s all of that and yet it doesn’t even cut close. 

The tears weigh heavy behind his eyes. They’re glossed over from the strain it takes for him to stop himself from crying, he has been doing so ever since he laid eyes on Anna only a few minutes ago. He knows what he wants, but he is helpless to get it. It’s a particular kind of pain, not many people can understand, and he can’t describe it, but it’s awful, and it breaks his heart all over again, every damn day. Today has been a lot, and the day is just getting started. He’s not sure how long he can survive this before losing himself. 

Fighting is so much harder when you always seem to lose. 

You watch him, your fingers fidgeting nervously before you. You often know what to say, but right now, your mind is wiped clean. “You came back,” you eventually speak up. 

He smiles, his demeanor reserved but somehow he looks relieved when he hears you talk like that again – kind, understanding, and calm. You’re the only calm thing in his vicinity, and just for a moment, the tornado in his heart transitions into merely a hurricane. The café is empty besides him and you, and part of the stress on his shoulders seems to ease just a little.

“Michael, was it?”

He nods. “Yeah.” 

You even remember his name.

A smile finds its way onto your face. You try not to let the nerves show, or the fact that you’re overwhelmed and flustered. You’re a mess, and today it doesn’t exactly feel like you can stand by it. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I remember your order. I’m not stalking you or anything, but I remember recommending the toffee nut latte to you,” you say, trying to explain yourself somehow, even though he looks nowhere near as uncomfortable with the conversation as you do. “I thought maybe… maybe that’s why you came back.”

Or because of the note, you think to yourself. Hope always dies last. You almost feel bad for assuming because looking at him, he doesn’t look okay, and you’re utterly selfish for wanting this to be about you. This is about him. It should be. You’re no expert, but you’ve seen your fair share of people in pain, mentally and physically, and he might as well fit into both categories. 

You just don’t understand, and it stresses you out. You usually don’t let men stress you out, they’re often not worth it and they use your kind heart for what it is, but Michael has a way of getting under your skin without even trying. Once again, it adds to the stress. It’s a stress you can’t pinpoint because it results in inner turmoil and confusion that drives you up the walls. 

“Yeah,” he’s even quieter than the day before. 

You’re not sure if he means, “Yeah, that’s why I came back.” Or, “Yes, that’s who I am but that’s not why I came.”

You tilt your head, trying not to prod him with the questions that are burning inside of you. “Did you like it?” you ask. “Or are you here to tell me it sucked and you’re never coming back here?”

The waters you’re treading are dangerous. 

“No, I liked it. I–“ 

Your eyes light up. “Yes?” 

“Yeah, it was grand. I just–“ A lot is going on in his head, and he can’t sort it. You’re smiling at him and he’s reminded of the day before, but then he thinks about what happened after that, late at night and the early hours of the morning, and his knuckles start to throb with the cruel reminder.

What is he doing? Why is he here? Why is he so desperate for something he doesn’t even understand? 

You eye him again. Etched into his features, the frown only deepens. There’s not much difference about him physically, but the sun is out today and he still looks like it’s been raining in his heart for years. It breaks you and you don’t even know him. He avoids eye contact, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. You can tell he’s trying to say something but at the same time stay silent because he’s scared. Why, you don’t know.

You wipe your hands on your apron and take another step forward. “Okay,” you murmur. “Can I help you with anything?”

Your voice is oh so soft. He sucks in a sharp breath. The sound caresses his cheeks, but the touch burns. He feels like he is Lucifer on his way to hell. 

“Coffee, maybe?” You’re trying hard to elicit some sort of reaction out of him, to get a sense of what he’s feeling and what you can do to make his day because quite frankly, if he was here because of the note, he would have mentioned it by now.

Maybe he’s seeking comfort, and you’d be the last person not to help a person in need out.

The sign above your head creaks. There is a God, after all, Michael thinks. He looks up at the contraption you failed to save before.

“Looks dangerous,” he states, skillfully avoiding your other question.

You follow the direction of his finger – it’s his uninjured hand. “Yeah, the nails are rusty and it just won’t stay in place, but I don’t have any nails here to fix it,” you say.

He nods. “Do ya have a hammer?”

“What?”

“Just answer the question.”

You blink in surprise at his assertive tone. It’s not particularly harsh, but it also leaves no room for you to argue. Something dark flashes in his eyes, which is instantly replaced by a fear of having gone too far. His lips part to apologize. 

“I have a hammer,” you say, and you try to smile enough to ease his conscience. 

You’re used to customers being rude to you, and Michael isn’t rude, you would never consider the tone of his voice anything near that, at least not with you; he caught you off guard, that’s all. He sounds so confident when he wants to. He would make a great leader, you’re sure.

It’s not fear that spreads through your veins, you hope he realizes that. You’re even more intrigued now, and maybe you’re a little excited, too. You’re not sure, you know you shouldn’t be, but there is something about his voice and the sharpness of his words that send a shiver down your spine, and it lands right where your legs cross below what he can see on his side of the counter. 

He tries to return your smile as much as he can. “Let me fix it for ya,” he says. 

You stammer, “Fix it?”

“Yeah.”

The suggestion is a helpful one, and under any other circumstance, you would have said it’s sweet, but this is your workplace and he’s a customer. You’re not allowed to let anyone beyond the small bullpen that separates you and him. If this had been your home or any other place with a wonky sign and not the job you’re dependent on to survive, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. 

“I think I know how to fix it,” Michael tells you, “Ya just have to let me try.”

He hardly gets to fix anything. It’s just a sign, but it seems like something he is good at and he doesn’t want you to be frustrated or scared of losing your job anymore. He wants to help. He wants to feel useful. He wants the day to feel less like a waste of his existence and more like he’s making a difference, and an act of kindness that you are in desperate need of feels right to him. 

Though when he notices that you’re hesitating, he is about ready to retreat into his shell and bury himself so deep, no one can find him anymore. 

You scratch the back of your head. “I don’t know,” you admit. “You get that if something happens to you, I’ll lose my job, right? It has something to do with insurance and the general policy or something. I signed a contract. It’s complicated. I… I love this job. I need it.”

The sign creaks again. He sighs. “What if it drops on yer head?”

Looking behind you, the nail on the right is moving another millimeter downward. 

The inside of your cheek is bleeding now from how hard you’re biting down on it. You shouldn’t let the thought of him coming closer to you and pretty much saving your ass and allowing you to maybe get to know him a little better drive you, but it does anyway. Sometimes, you tend to be a little reckless, and Michael brings it out in you. 

“Now, will ya let me take a look at it or are ya too damn proud to admit ya need help?”

He’s one to talk.

Fuck it, you think. If the sign falls and destroys all of the equipment below, it’s your neck they’re going to have for the accident anyway because you know it’s loose, but you would have kept it like that if Michael hadn't popped out of nowhere. You don’t even know the guy, but his offer to help is something you can’t turn down. Besides, you’re desperate and know the first regulars will start coming in soon, so time is of the essence. You can’t fix the sign and serve customers at the same time. You’re not a robot, and your colleague’s shift starts in an hour, so you’re alone until then. 

Michael is the only beacon of hope to get you through the day with all of your limbs still intact.  

With a hesitant nod, you give him the go-ahead. “You can take a look at it if you want,” you say.

“Thanks,” he says. 

It’s different to see him fully. He discards his jacket, pulling the sleeves of his sweater up. He’s wearing a T-shirt underneath. A gray one. You try not to stare too much, but his right forearm and the tattoos that litter his skin quickly catch your attention. And he’s taller now that he’s standing almost entirely in front of you. 

He meets your eyes. Your skin flushes a soft pink, but you can’t look away. He has a hold on you. He’s got you under his spell. His brown eyes look like honey in the sunlight, and the specks of green remind you of an enchanted forest. An ancient tree, maybe. His hair is dark, but whenever the light shines on it, it seems to sparkle just a little lighter. You feel like a psycho with the way you’re staring, but as you meet his eyes, you notice you’re not the only one. 

Michael can’t help it, the way his eyes roam so effortlessly over your body. The apron you’re wearing is black, and you’ve changed the butterfly clip, but the look is the same. You’re wearing a dress today and a pair of sneakers. Your hair is tied up half like the day before, the shiny locks cascading down your back. The color of your eyes seems to reflect in the sunlight, and there is a glow on your face that doesn’t get overshadowed, not even when you feel frustrated. 

Like the idiot you are, you extend your hand and decide to introduce yourself properly. You tell him your name, your eyes hopeful enough. 

Hesitantly, he takes your hand into his injured one. The bandage feels weird against your skin, and your eyes widen a little. His hand didn’t look like that when you first met him. 

“Michael,” he says.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, then look back down at his hand that is still in yours. His grip is firm yet gentle, but you can feel the warmth of the injury under your fingers. “What happened to your hand?” you add. It’s a daring question, but you’re nothing if not curious. 

He pulls back, hiding his hand behind his back again. “Had a wee accident, nothing serious. I’m a’right.”

The second he pulls back, you feel a sharp pang in your chest. You feel like you’ve scared him away now. “Oh. I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine. Could ya just give me that hammer so I can do my job?”

You nod, rummaging through the drawer next to the coffee maker for the small hammer you keep around for the smaller signs that often switch places in the café. You meet his eyes when you hand it over, but he only briefly brushes you before pulling the ladder you use to reach the spare mugs on the highest shelf above you in front of himself, and he climbs on top of it. 

Michael removes the sign with ease, examining the nails on either side. They’re both rusty and the holes in the walls have expanded over time, but he sees no reason to change them right away. He flicks the right one with his finger and pushes it in a little further, changing the angle of the impact. It doesn’t budge. 

“Hm,” he murmurs to himself before turning back to you. You’re watching him like a hawk.

“And?” you ask, part of you now terrified of being completely fucked in more ways than one, and none of it the good kind. 

He offers you a small smile. “You’ve got customers coming in.”

The bell above the door rings. 

You sigh. “Great.”

“I’ve got it,” he assures you. 

“If you fall and break your neck—”

His smile turns into a chuckle. “I won’t.” Then, he turns back around and starts gently hitting the nail on its rusty head with the hammer. 

You have no choice but to serve the couple that has come in. If Michael knows what he’s doing, you have nothing to worry about, but you can’t help stealing the occasional glance at him as you brew the coffee and manually steam some milk for the woman’s latte. You don’t even try selling any of the new drinks on the menu since it feels wrong to offer diversity when the back of the counter looks like a construction site, but they seem happy and satisfied when you offer them a free butterfly cookie – because on Tuesdays, there are always free cookies. They find their place somewhere in the café and you just pray they’re satisfied enough to keep quiet about the sign.

It’s not even a big deal, you know that. It happens to the best people, and you’re just a barista in an under-staffed, very loved café in a part of Dublin that is known for destroying every small business it can find and plastering the name of an overpriced franchise on it, or simply tearing down the building and replace it with something else entirely. That’s why you can’t afford mishaps. You need this job, you need to find your footing elsewhere before you can even think about quitting, and you need the Butterfly Effect to stay popular so you won’t get another identity crisis and lose not only your job but the entire café as well. You’re an overthinker, and it’s exhausting to be scared all the time, but you can’t help it when the reality of your situation is what it is. And it’s very real. You’re happy and you have enough money to survive. That can’t change, not until you’ve finally got the means to make your other dreams come true and you can leave the past behind. 

That might take some time, but you need the time, too. And you know everyone else you work with thinks the same. You can’t blame them. No one can. 

You stop sulking to look up, and it’s then that Michael puts the sign with the menu back up. It’s as straight as it was before, if not more. You quickly swallow your sip of water and put the bottle away, staring at him and his handiwork with a mixture of surprise and awe written all over your face. 

“No way,” you breathe. 

He gets off the ladder, satisfied with what he managed to do, and then he turns to you to get your approval. Your smile is answer enough. 

“I managed to get the nails further in,” he says, “but ya need to get them switched out as soon as ya can.”

“I don’t know what to say. You fixed it!”

“Yeah.”

You reach out, placing your hand on his arm. Your eyes drill into his, and he swallows thickly at the intensity of your gaze. Goosebumps form on his skin. He finds himself looking at where you’re touching him. It’s a gentle rhythm your finger is drumming on his skin, but he doesn’t mind. You’re being soft with him, almost like he is made out of glass. Seconds start feeling like hours. The air sizzles like a broken power cord. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

Before Michael can answer, your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, and you pull him into a hug. You, the kind-hearted stranger that he knows he doesn’t deserve, are hugging him, and you pour so much affection into it, he shivers and the tears start knocking on the window of his soul again, asking to be let out. It’s the kind of touch that tingles long after it’s gone, but you’re so warm, your skin is so soft and God, you smell divine. You’re heaven on earth, and your hair feels as shiny as it looks. 

He hugs you back. He only endures it when other people touch him, even though he craves it. This is the first time he’s felt this comfortable in years, and your touch becomes a remedy he never thought he would be able to find. 

You pull away after a moment. “Thank you for saving my ass.”

He hasn’t quite processed your reaction yet, so all he does is nod. As your grip loosens completely, he slips out and reaches for his discarded jacket. He puts it back on, clearly planning on leaving. The coffee he told himself he would come here for is long forgotten. The hug unraveled something in him, and the way it makes him feel is vulnerable. He can feel the guard he keeps high around his heart slowly slipping away. Your kindness is a trojan horse and you’ve almost managed to breach all of his defenses. 

Not wanting him to leave, you find yourself reaching for his arm before he can step back in front of the counter. “How about I repay you with another coffee?” you ask. “It’s on the house.”

You hope he says yes, even if it means just a few more minutes with him. 

Michael stares at your hand and how close it’s hovering above his bandage. You meet his eyes, moving your gaze lower. He can tell the question once again burns on the tip of your tongue, but whatever curiosity you have, you swallow. You swallow it for the sake of his comfort, for the sake of getting another chance, and not to scare him away. He’s like a deer in headlights to you, and deers are shy. 

Why you’re so obsessed with him, you’re not sure. It can’t be healthy, neither for your heart nor for your job, but he is different in a way that redirects your focus solely on the man he is. You don’t focus on his looks, you focus on Michael alone, and he’s not used to the kind of attention you’re willing to give him, so he’s stuck in a stormy, unfamiliar land, and you’ve got him almost entirely exposed. 

This is new for both of you, but for him, it’s worse because he’s forgotten what it’s like to be with people that have never set foot into his life before, and you? You’re a breath of fresh air, something he knows he tends to corrupt and disrupt, but he can’t find it in himself to stop. He’s weak, he’s needy and it’s you. God, it’s just you, it’s all of you, and it drives him crazy, it makes him angry and it makes him want to run out of fear, just to protect you, to protect himself, to stop his life from spiraling out of control and hurting any more people, but you’re normal; Michael needs normal because that’s what he needs to learn how to be if he wants his daughter back and start anew, maybe even get a proper second chance. 

But it’s hard. It’s so, so hard. 

He hears himself talk, but he’s not in control. “On the house, huh?” he answers like he doesn’t understand what it means, or what you’re trying to tell him. Maybe he doesn’t. 

The note was nice, but to him, you seem like the kind of person that would do such a thing for about anyone who has a bad day, and he knows he looks like he has bad days rather frequently. Why he can’t admit to himself that you’re making yet another move at him, that’s not entirely clear. It’s good that you’re normal and deep down, he knows you’re good for him, but it’s also the reason why admitting it to himself is such an inner conflict. Everything that isn’t good for him always ends up being Michael’s first choice because the pain is a bittersweet reminder of what he thinks he deserves. And you don’t deserve a man like that. 

The hope in your eyes reignites. “I can make you another toffee nut latte,” you offer. You sound a little shy, but you look even cuter up close. 

“I was gonna order a—”

“Don’t say double–”

“Double espresso,” he says, and you find yourself uttering the same two words at the same time. 

Your eyes meet, and then you find yourself laughing. The clear sound fills the room with its soft melody. He looks away, his blush palpable as he tries hard not to smile, but he can’t help it. 

“Yer gonna refuse to serve me a double espresso, aren’t ya?” He looks back at you. 

You gnaw on your lip sheepishly. “Maybe,” you say. “But if you don’t want the same as yesterday, I have something else I think you’ll like.”

“I’m not adventurous.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Are ya going to let it be if I say no?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Probably not.”

“And if I say yes?” 

“You just have to trust me.”

Trusting you, he thinks, can’t be so hard. You’re an easy person to trust. You’re not the enemy. And you’re also not going to poison him.  

Michael sighs. “Yer insufferable,” though he says it with a smile. 

You take the glint in his eyes as a silent answer. As he moves back to his designated spot in front of the counter, you grab a plastic cup to your left. “You okay with iced coffee?” you ask. 

He raises his eyebrows.

“I take it that’s not something you have thought about often?”

“I don’t drink ice,” he says. 

“First of all, it’s not pure ice. It’s just coffee with ice cubes. A Frappuccino would be drinking the ice cubes with your drink because they get tossed in the blender with the rest of the ingredients. And second of all, you must have been curious about iced coffee at least once. Or have you never at least tried it?” 

“Never.”

“Well, you just have to really trust me on this then.” 

“If I get a brain freeze because of ya–”

You smirk. “Trust me, Michael.”

He caves. 

Michael watches you move with grace. You’re completely in your element. Every once in a while, your hips sway to the rhythm of whatever song is playing on the radio, and you seem a lot happier now than before. He’s made your day with a simple gesture, and he feels proud of himself for that. He used his hands for good this time. He succeeded. He made himself useful, even if it was just a simple wooden sign that needed to be adjusted. And now he’s getting a free coffee for it. 

Maybe being forced to wash cars instead of getting a proper job with Amanda just because Frank can’t live with him not wanting to do dirty work anymore isn’t something he should settle for, after all, no matter how good it may look on the papers for the court. 

After a few minutes of debating whether or not to bring up the courage to ask you, his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of ice cubes clinking together, and you place the plastic cup on the counter before him. 

He expected an iced latte or a frappuccino maybe, but not whatever it is that you have just placed before him. The drink is blue, maybe even a little shiny in the sunlight. The ice cubes are dancing around each other inside the plastic cup, and there is a tiny blue flower swimming in the foam on top. 

Your smile widens at his surprised expression. He looks impressed, even. You take a straw and poke it through the hole, then push it closer for Michael to grab. 

“What’s that s’posed to be?” he asks. He’s a little weary as he eyes the cup. 

“Poison,” you deadpan. 

He frowns. 

You snort at how easily he seems to believe you. He’s… unique. “Kidding! It’s not poison, what kind of person do you think I am?”

“The kind that would poison their customer with a fuckin’ blue potion.”

“Hey!”

It’s his turn to smirk, but when he does, it looks a little dirtier than yours. “Just messin’ with ya,” he says. He tries to imitate you, but he fails miserably. 

You roll your eyes, encouraging him to take the cup. “It’s called Butterfly Pea Flower,” you explain, and your voice is no longer joking. “It’s not a poisonous flower. It’s originally from Asia, that’s where it grows, but you can get it in many other countries. And it’s edible. If you buy it to make drinks or coffee, it usually comes like this–” you lift the small package with the blue powder that you’ve used to pour into the milk of his latte, “but don’t let the color fool you because it tastes delicious. The flower itself has a natural blue tint, so the powder does too. The flowers in the foam taste like nothing because they’re just edible flowers, they’re not the same. Oh, and the coffee itself,” you say, “is the strongest espresso we have mixed with some milk and a sweet, sweet layer of foam with a sprinkle of chocolate and caramel. You’re welcome.”

You wink at him. He finally takes it, sniffing the content. “Hm,” he murmurs. 

“What now?”

“Smells… normal,” he says. 

“You seriously think I’d poison you?”

If only you knew the things he’s encountered before. But no, he doesn’t think that – he would never. Not from you, anyway. 

“If you keep thinking of me like that, I’ll give you a reason to think of me like that,” you say. It doesn’t as terrifying now that you’ve said it.

Michael bites back a grin. “Yeah, sure,” he says.

Asshole, you think.

He guides the straw to his mouth and sucks on it. You look away quickly. The way his lips purse around the top shortly after his tongue has traced a circle around it have you regretting your choice to offer an iced coffee instead of a regular latte. 

Who would have thought that the shy, almost damaged-looking man who helped you out when you needed it after you helped him out when he needed it would be such a fucking tease. 

He leaves the bitter yet sweet liquid to rest on his tongue for a bit. You see the wheels in his head turn, and his eyebrows furrow as he judges the taste. His lips smack, the foam making his tongue feel fuzzy, but the taste itself is unique. Very unique. It’s different than a traditional latte, and it’s not just the color. He doesn’t know what to say at first because even with your first recommendation that you forced him to order, you did not fail, and you also didn’t disappoint with this one, either. 

“And?” you ask. 

“Hm.”

“Michael.”

“Delicious,” he says. 

It’s as good as it gets. 

“Told you,” you smile. 

He returns the smile in a smaller manner, but he’s smiling nonetheless. “I’ve never had iced coffee before, but ya made it easy to like.”

That’s an even bigger compliment and your sass from before vanishes into a flush. 

“Are ya sure it’s on the house?”

“Very much so,” you say. 

Reaching beside you, you grab one of the butterfly cookies and place it on a napkin. You hesitate. Looking up at him sipping his iced latte, you ask yourself if you should just mention the note to him and crush your hopes before you can get them up, but it’s still a bold move. And you’re unsure. You’re shy. You don’t trust your voice. So you take the Sharpie and start writing on the napkin before sliding it into a paper bag together with his free cookie and handing it back to Michael. 

Maybe he will read it, and if he does, he’ll know that the first note wasn’t a coincidence and that this is meant for him and him only. You don’t do this for everyone. You can hear Sarah laughing in the back of your head, and she would have told you to ask him personally and cut this back-and-forth short, but something tells you that writing notes is an easier way into his heart than confronting him with something that might overwhelm him the same way it does you. 

The bag slips out of your hand when he takes it, frowning at you once again. 

“It’s Tuesday, and everyone gets a free butterfly cookie on Tuesdays,” you tell him. 

It dawns on him. You did the same thing for the couple that’s still sitting in the corner of the café. He nods and takes it. It’s just a cookie, after all. 

He turns to leave and he hears you say, “Have a good day, Michael!” It doesn’t sound like the voice you use with your other customers. This is the you he expects you to be outside of work, the you that is even kinder and even more open with the people around her, and his heart swells, his guard continuing to slip ever so slightly. 

Michael turns around. He opens his mouth and says your name. It echoes. In his mind, it does. He stops thinking. The words are about ready to slip from his tongue. 

You have a nice smile too. 

But then you beam when he says your name and you ask him, “Yes, Michael?” 

And he forgets. He can’t speak. He wants to, but he also doesn’t, and he can’t. His vocal cords shut down and he’s left with nothing but a weak breath of air. The further he gets from you, the harder it gets to breathe, and real life starts to seep back into his bones. His body aches. The bubble bursts. He’s left there, standing naked in the eye of the storm, and the tornado tears down everything around him and lastly, himself. 

He can’t do it, and he can’t do it to you. 

“Oh just… Nothin’,” he says. He can see the exact moment your heart drops and your hopes are shattered. He feels like an idiot now, but he can’t change it. “Have a nice day,” he adds your name in hopes to redeem himself, but you only nod with a smile that’s far weaker than the first one, and then you say goodbye to him.

He leaves you behind with a heavy heart. The coffee in his hand and its bright blue remind him of you. To him, you are colorful too. You’re not a gray cloud, you’re a rainbow. You’re the sun. You’re everything good and light, and the blue represents the kind of person you are. You put your heart into it, he can taste it. Even more, does he feel bad for being such an incompetent idiot. 

Loneliness follows him home. He ignores Jimmy’s calls and he takes a different route to make sure none of his family sees him. Once the door is locked behind him, the four walls that are supposed to feel safe only fill him with dread. 

The coffee cup with your note is still sitting on the table. He takes it. Your handwriting hasn’t smudged. Feeling the tears well up in his eyes, he clenches his fist, and the paper crinkles. Your handwriting disappears. It doesn’t make his bad day better today; the nostalgia makes him feel so much worse. He’s not smiling, and he doesn’t deserve that compliment. 

He tries not to cry when he sips the last few drops of his latte and unwraps the cookie. You have been way too nice to him. You made it sound like professional courtesy, but there is nothing professional about it. 

The napkin slips out, falling to his feet. He’s about to crinkle it too, his hand already hovering above the garbage, when he notices the same black Sharpie that has written his name on a cup twice now. 

“Michael, you’re a good person. Don’t forget to smile 2day. It’s still nice when you do. X – the annoying barista who makes you buy overpriced coffee :)”

This is the first time he sees your handwriting smudge. He wishes he could blame it on the condensation of his cup, but the wetness has already traveled to his cheeks and he can’t hold it back anymore. 

The tears start falling. They wet the napkin and the note. The ‘X’ that is supposed to mark a kiss gets lost under the rain of his emotions, and he can barely see your name anymore. Your face blurs. 

And then, he breaks. 

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms @acharliecoxedfan @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #kin amc #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fluff #coffee shop au #hurt/comfort #michael kinsella fic #michael kinsella smut #reader insert #no y/n #michael kinsella x f!reader #michael kinsella x afab!reader #butterfly effect #mini series

[she-likesorchids]

We Could Call It Even

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Warnings: Semi public sex, unprotected p in v sex (don't be fools wrap your tools), vaginal fingering, mentions of alcohol, Mikey being an absolute cheeky bastard. FEELINGS AND SMUT.

Summary: You are visiting your home in Dublin for the first time in years, when you run into an old flame at the local pub.

Author's Note: Written for the Thirsty for Cox April challenge! The prompt was "song fics" and this is inspired by "tis the damn season" by Taylor Swift. As always, a big thank you and a million smooches to @itwasthereaminuteago for being the best beta reader EVER.

---------------------------------

Being back in Dublin to visit your family was almost surreal. It had been entirely too long since your last visit, and it seemed like the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. The same regulars frequented the pub close to your parents’ house, and they all recognized you when you walked in. There was an onslaught of “Where have you been?” and “How are you?”, and you honestly missed it. Even though your career had taken off and you found success abroad, nowhere in the world compared to home. 

You ordered a drink, took a seat at the bar, and then you glanced up towards the door as it opened. The sight before you nearly took your breath away, and you had to blink a few times to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you. There he was, the man you loved, but left all those years ago to pursue your dreams: Michael Kinsella. Your family didn’t care for him, because they knew about his family’s “business”. They warned you that he was bad news, and he would only get you hurt or in trouble, but you didn’t listen to them. You were young, and you loved him in a passionate, reckless way that only comes once in a lifetime. The memories of your relationship came flooding back to you all at once, and you were about to excuse yourself for a moment, until he appeared right in front of you. 

“Is this seat taken?” he asked as he gestured to the bar stool next to you. 

Read the rest on AO3

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Tagging my TFC babes: @itwasthereaminuteago @mattmurdocksscars @mindidjarin @e-dubbc11 @munsonownsmyass @pedrito-friskito @thisishellfire @saintmurd0ck @idrinkcoffeeandobsess

#mandy writes #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella smut #michael kinsella #kin amc #charlie cox

[itwasthereaminuteago]

¦¦ 14. Lovebites ¦¦

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

Michael Kinsella x female reader

Warnings: biting! Cunnilingus, fingering, sexy sex, possessiveness, some fluff!

Author’s note: I don't know why, he just strikes me as the possessive type. It's always the quiet ones...

You close the door as quietly as you can when you return home earlier than you expected from a night out in the town. It was just a few drinks with the girls, but some rowdy lads in the last pub had started trying to talk to you despite you all trying your utmost to ignore their unwelcome creepy flirty advances.

They were all full of liquid confidence, letching and leering over you, one of them in particular getting far too close and handsy with you no matter how many times you said no and moved away. Finally, it got to be too much and you ended up smashing the fella in the face with your fist, earning a cheer from the rest of the pub but also leaving you with bruised knuckles.

You were just going to come home, sneak into bed and worry about explaining it to Michael in the morning.

But no such luck…

"Hey love, you're home early. Did ya have a good night?" He asks, reaching for you.

You quickly and subtly slip your arms around his neck so he doesn't see the evidence of the night's drama.

"Aye it was alright, just a bit tired y'know. Thought you'd be late over at Jimmy's as well?"

"Ach he was bein' an arse and I'd had enough so…" he kisses you softly, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. "besides, means an early night for us both, pet? Can't say I'm upset about it." 

He smiles warmly and you let him lead you to your bedroom. You're kind of glad he was at home when you got back, after the night you had you really could use something to take your mind off it, and you always felt safe with Michael.

He backs you up to the edge of the mattress, soft lips and the brush of his beard on your cheek and neck making you giggle as you flump down on the bed. You push up the hem of his shirt and he takes your hint, peeling it off so you can appreciate his well-muscled physique. You forget yourself as your hands automatically move to touch, and he grabs them, noticing the redness on your right hand. You flinch at the fresh pain and his eyes bore into yours.

"What happened?"

You shook your head, "it's nothin' Mikey, don't worry." 

Of course he's not convinced. His brow furrows even deeper. "Someone hurt ya darlin'? C'mon an tell me now."

"No it's alright, it's sorted. Just some lads were annoyin' me an the girls. They wouldn't take the bloody hint so I punched one of em." 

"Fuckin' hell love! Is that right?" He brings your hands up to his lips and kisses your sore knuckles.

You nod and smirk, pleased you were able to stand up for yourself and that Michael was obviously proud of you for doing so.

"Let me get some ice for ya…"

You shake your head and stop him. "No s'alright, just a bit achy is all."

"So I don't need t'kill any of these fuckers then?" He jokes, but you know he would in a heartbeat. You pull him close again, your hands smoothing over his chest to try calm down the protective and possessive urge that you knew had been struck up within him. It never took much to get him riled when you were concerned.

"No it's alright baby, just need you, here. Now."

"Yeah, can do that…" He swiftly aids you in removing your clothes, his hungry mouth tasting every bare bit of skin as it's revealed, laying you down on the bed and roaming over and claiming every inch of you. A yelp turns into a moan as he sucks a bruising mark into the skin of your neck.

"Mikey!" 

"You're mine, alright? Need you to know that love," you gasp as he moves down, his eyes darker now, his fingers grabbing and pressing into your soft flesh. "All of you, fuckin' mine." he growls, nipping your collarbone and leaving a mark there too. "S'only me that gets to touch ya, only me that gets to mark ya up… ain't it pet?"

Your breaths are shallow now, whimpers of agreement woven through them as Michael leaves his literal mark on you, working on letting everyone know exactly who you belong to. 

"Yeah," you moan as he's between your bare legs biting into the soft sensitive flesh there. He rakes his nails with just the right amount of pressure over your outer thigh as his mouth sucks and licks leaving a path of purpling blotches leading towards your cunt. He holds you down with a quiet strength that has you aching for him. Before you're able to beg for more he's sucking your clit between his soft full lips making you buck your hips up towards his face with high wavering whimpers. His fingers breach your dripping entrance and he looks up to watch your face contort in needy bliss as he starts pumping them in and out of you. 

"Michael, fuck, I want you. Need you."

He hums and crooks his fingers a little, rubbing over the spot that makes you gasp, makes you wetter, makes you lose control.

"Yeah? Wan me to fuck ya, love?" His voice is raw and dark with desire. "Are ye wantin' m'cock stuffed in that pretty, wet cunt?"

"Yes, oh god Mikey please!" you plead, whining as he withdraws from where you need him most. Your hands curl around the back of his neck as he moves up your body, he grips his cock, smacking the head against your clit a few times and leaning down to suck another harsh vivid mark on the other side of your neck. The room fills with your shared moans as he sinks into you, and you wrap your legs around him as he thrusts hard and deep.

You'll proudly wear the evidence of his ownership if you get to feel like this, but despite the possessive bites and words he's not just fucking you senseless. It's passionate, ensuring that you know just how much he fucking loves you, showing you with every touch, kiss, and the way he moves within you. When you come he's watching you, awestruck, doing everything he can to prolong your high before he follows, marking you up from the inside. 

Afterwards, you close your eyes, smiling softly as he kisses so tenderly over every single mark he's left on the canvas of your body. 

#kinkwasthereaminuteago #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella smut #michael kinsella x female reader