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drcranessweetestdoe · 3 months

Note

hi, how are u? i have an idea for a smutty fic...

OK, hear me out:

dom!stepdad!cillian with sub!stepdaughter!reader who punishes her for sneaking out to go to a party

hii, I’m good! thank u for requesting I love this idea xx

Bad, bad bunny

warning: minors dni! stepcest, dom!sub themes, mentions of cheating, power play, daddy kink, age gap, dub-con (but not really? reader is into it), dumbificaton, Cillian only starts lusting after her once she turns 18!

pairing: dom!stepfather Cillian Murphy x sub!stepdaughter Reader

summary: Y/N sneaks out for a party, and her stepfather, Cillian, makes sure it never happens again

She was always such a good girl. Always obedient, always listening to him without talking back. Maybe that’s why he felt so drawn to her.

Her mother, Mrs.(Y/L/N), and Cillian married when (Y/N) was only 14, just a clueless girl back then. Everything was lovely in the beginning, her mother acted nice and lovey dovey until he married her. Cillian regretted it the second he slid the ring onto her finger, when he saw that certain look in her eyes. But, at least it made Cillian promise something to himself, he will keep little (Y/N) safe and innocent. He won’t let her become the spiteful whore her mother was. He knew she was cheating on him and their marriage, going out late in the night, taking advantage of the fact that he was working so much. There were times when she was out for days, and then she eventually stopped coming home, she sneaked in when her husband and her daughter were asleep, took her stuff and fled right out of their lives.

Cillian was more relieved than anything. He filed in for a divorce and also filed for custody, he wasn’t going to leave the poor 15 year old girl on her own. He moved them away, bought a beautiful house in Dublin. It had a big garden, a pool, even a personal library. He loved seeing that look in his stepdaughter’s eyes, when her big eyes sparkled with adoration.

He made sure to spoil her, give her anything she asked for. Thankfully, she never became a brat, she was always so grateful for him and the pretty things she enjoyed.

As the years went by, Cillian watched the girl grow into a gorgeous little thing. He noticed how she started filling in her clothes, how they became tighter on her body, and it excited him. He always found her beautiful, but in a way a father would find his child beautiful. Now, he felt arousal pool in his stomach when he looked at her, his lovely bunny. When he watched her swim around the pool, while he was making dinner for them, he would really see how her body evolved. Perky breasts nearly spilling out of her white bikini, her nipples would harden up from the water and they poked through the light fabric. Her hips widened, he found himself wanting to grip on them as well as on her round butt.

He loved the girlish style she developed, her wardrobe contained lots of pink, lace and silk. It brought a sense of pride knowing that it was all bought with his money, her clothes, her room, basically anything she touched. She was all his. She cared for him as much as he cared for her, such a sweet girl. She did well in school, she always ran into his arms with a giggle when she got her usual good marks.

Everything was perfect. Her 19th birthday went by and he found himself more attracted to her than ever. One night, he was on his way to give her usual good night kiss, but he was confused when he opened the door to an empty room. He was sure she would be sleeping already, given the fact that he stayed up quite late tonight. Her bed was made, her pyjamas folded up beside her pillow. She wasn’t in her bathroom, however he could smell her perfume.

His body filled with rage when he noticed her window open. She sneaked out, his dear bunny sneaked out. For good knows what. He sat on her bed in disbelief, he was very angry with her. Until, he looked sideway, he saw an pair of her panties, hanging from the side. He squatted beside it and snatched the used lace. Back on her bed, he thumbed the area where her intimate parts rested against, he felt the sticky substance. He felt his cock stir in his underwear when he felt her sweet scent fill up the room. That is when the idea hit him, and a wicked smirk fell upon his lips. He would make sure that his little bunny never disobeys him again.

He waited her for her to come home, he sat on her vanity chair with the lights turned off. It wasn’t even an hour before he heard her noises outside, he smirked proudly. He saw her sneak in the window again and he waited for her to turn her lights on and he spoke up when she did.

“Did you enjoy yourself, bunny?” He stood up and made his way to her. Her eyes were wide and her lips were open. He couldn’t deny, she looked stunning. Her pink dress hugged her figure, her soft hair adorned a matching pink ribbon, as it always did. He couldn’t stop thinking about what was under her dress.

“I-I…”

“Sit down on the bed, and explain what you were doing.” She did as she was told, with her gaze planted on her lap.

“I was going to a party. I’m sorry.” He felt his anger rise within him again.

“Look at me.” He said sternly. He was glad to know that she was ashamed and that she felt bad for playing him like that. “Was it worth it?”

“No… I know I shouldn’t have. I just…” Tears began to form in her eyes. He came closer and stood infront of her, making her look up at him with those pretty doe eyes. He signalled her to continue. “I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. But I didn’t like it! All I could think about was how much better it would be if I was here with you, I was only there for half an hour.” His eyes softened at this, his sweet girl was so eager to come back home to him, he caressed her soft cheek with one hand.

“Did you drink?” She shook her head. “Did you take anything from anyone?” She did it again, then he questioned what he feared the most. “Did you do anything with boys?” He was relieved when yet again, she motioned ‘no’ with her head. “Good.”

He felt her nuzzle her cheek into his palm, but suddenly he gripped her face harshly. “Your actions have consequences. You need to be punished, so in the future you will behave like the good girl I know you are.” He pulled her up by her hair and his dick throbbed when she whined. He left her standing there dumbly, while he took a seat on her bed. “Strip.”

Her eyes widened, she had some mascara marks at her waterline already, she will be a mess by the time he is finished with her.

“W-What?”

“Dumb little girl. Strip for daddy, show him what you have under the dress he bought for his little princess.” The word ‘daddy’ seemed to have woken something in her, her eyes got a desperate look in them and she started to follow his orders.

She let the dress fall off her frame, now she stood in front of him in lingerie. He knew she was innocent, he always made sure to shoo the boys away from her. She bought lacy underwear simply because she found it pretty, he did too, but only on her. How he wanted to mark up her untouched skin. Touch it, kiss it, suck it, bruise it.

He motioned her to come over with two fingers. When she stopped in front of him, he made sure to take a moment and be delicate with her. He let his hands wander across her hips and waist, a shiver ran up her spine at his warm touch. “Across my lap, bunny.”

She kneeled beside his thighs, but he grabbed her hair tightly when she was about to lay down. Instead of a whine, she let out a moan, she felt the pain transform into arousal and go right to her cunt. He pulled her face close to his, the slut in his arms closed her eyes and sighed at the scent of his cologne, he smelled like… a man, her man. His scent mingled with her sweet one in the air, the perfect mix of two opposites. He whispered into her ear. “I expect to be answered. And I expect you to be thankful that your daddy is trying so hard to keep you in line, little doe.”

“Yes, daddy, I’m sorry. Thank you for being so good to me.” With the hand that wasn’t used to hold herself up, she caressed his neck and smiled in a sweet manner.

“Good girl.” He helped her get comfortable across his lap, and continued caressing her skin. He kneaded her round ass and gave it a light slap to test the waters. He knew she could feel his erection against her tummy, he wanted her to know how much he desired her. The ribbon was slipped out of her hair and around her wrist. “You will count for me, and thank me for every spank.”

She wasn’t expecting the harsh slap that he did across her ass, she moaned loudly and somehow whimpered out. “One, thank you, daddy.”

Smack! “T-Two. Thank you.” Smack! “Three. Thank you da-“ SMACK! “DA—“ SMACK!

He kept striking the red skin of her ass, every spank more painful than the other. She stopped counting, she just let her face mush against her floral sheet and she whimpered. Tears mixed with mascara were running down her cheeks, and there was a little pool of drool on the fabric, where her mouth was dropped open.

Despite her behaviour, he felt the heat against his palm radiating from her warm pussy. He suddenly stopped, her whiny sounds were filling up the room. “Did you learn your lesson, bunny?” She just nodded into the sheet, so he gripped the reddest area of her butt, hard. “Pardon? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes, daddy! I learned my lesson. I won’t do it again, I won’t do anything bad again. I’m sorry.” She looked back at him with a pleading look in her teary eyes. God, he thought she looked absolutely beautiful, so messy and fucked out. He couldn’t wait to see her like that on his cock, but he will have to wait for that, she deserved to be treated gently.

“Good girl. My good little bunny.” He undid the ribbon around her wrists and spun her around in his arms. She hissed when her butt touched his thigh but relaxed the second he wrapped her in his arms. “There, there. You did so good, little doe, you deserve a treat now.”

He slowly slipped his hand down to her cunt, and clicked his tongue when he felt her wetness. He massaged her entrance for a hot second before bringing her slick up to her little nub. “Eager, are we?” She was whining when his fingers started to do little circles on her clit. Her pretty face was hidden in his neck and her fingers wrapped themselves in his hair. Her leg twitched when he sped up his movements.

“Oh- Daddy!”

“I know, little one.” She came on his finger with a whiny moan and then relaxed in his arms. He saw how she was sleepy and exhausted. He stood up, carrying her in bridal style and he made his way to her bathroom.

“Let’s get you cleaned up for bed. Daddy loves you so much, bunny, he just wants to keep you safe.” He whispered

She gave him one of her sweet smiles and she snuggled more into him.

“I love you too, daddy.”

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queenshelby · 9 months

Text

Our Little Secret (Part One)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Smut, Age-Gap, Daddy Issues

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

It was a Friday evening when you came home after a long day at school. At 19 years of age, you were in your final year with only six weeks to go until graduation and whilst you were one of the oldest students in your class after having spent a year in America with your father, you sure were not confident.

You struggled to settle in, especially after your mother Sarah remarried rather quickly, and whilst you liked your stepfather Frank a lot, you felt somewhat out of place at his house.

Frank had a big family, including three brothers and one sister. His oldest brother happened to be no other than Cillian Murphy, an actor you had admired since you turned sixteen.

Your mother told you about him before he showed up for dinner one night, cautioning you to be friendly, and ever since that evening, getting Cillian out of your head was impossible.

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him walk through the door. He looked even more attractive than he did onscreen. His slightly grey hair, piercing blue eyes, and strong jawline sent shivers down your spine.

Cillian was in his forties, just like your stepfather Frank, but this did not really bother you, and as the evening wore on, you could not help but feel increasingly drawn to him. Thus, when you heard that he would come over again tonight, you were ecstatic.

As soon as he walked through the door, your heart raced faster than usual, making it hard to catch your breath.

"Hi," you managed to say, forcing yourself to stay calm despite how much you wanted to reach out and touch him.

"Hi Y/N, how have you been?" he replied, taking off his jacket and hanging it up and following you into the living room after your mother yelled out from the kitchen, telling him to take a seat as Frank would be home soon.

"I've been well. And you?" you asked, and he confirmed that he too kept well following which there was an awkward silence between you two for a few moments, both of you clearly feeling the magnetic pull toward each other. The chemistry was undeniable, making it difficult to focus on anything else but your growing desire for one another.

Finally, breaking the silence, Cillian spoke softly, saying, "So, what do you usually do on Fridays?"

You hesitated for a moment, trying to think of something interesting to tell him.

"Fridays, I am at school," you chuckled, and Cillian felt silly for asking.

"Right, of course. Frank told me you spent a year in America hence, you have not finished year twelve yet. How was that like?" Cillian asked as he moved closer, his gaze burning into yours.

"It was good. I learned a lot about different cultures," you told Cillian, feeling your heart racing.

"That must have been quite an experience! So, what made you come back? Your dad lives over there, doesn't he?" Cillian asked, leaning back against the couch with a hint of flirtatiousness in his voice.

"Yes, he does. I missed Ireland, though, and I needed to finish school to start university," you explained. "My friends here in Dublin are great, though; they made the transition easier," you then informed Cillian, who nodded in understanding, continuing to study your face with those captivating eyes before, finally, his brother Frank arrived home.

Your heart sank, feeling the sudden interruption, although you could sense the anticipation and excitement between Cillian and you. However, you both knew that now was not the right time because Frank was present.

Frank and Cillian engaged in some small talk while you sat in and listened, which is when Cillian brought up his recent fight with Danielle.

Danielle was Cillian's wife, a beautiful actress, but you did not care for her. It seemed she always got under your skin. Even Frank admitted that Danielle could be somewhat high maintenance and, clearly, Cillian was over her constant antics.

It seemed to you like they fought a lot , and even though it wasn't your business, you found yourself wondering if, perhaps, Danielle might be part of the reason why Cillian felt so drawn to you. There was a certain magnetism between you two, even if you had not explicitly acknowledged it yet. Cillian's wife had always irritated you somehow, and the thought of him potentially wanting to escape from her was tempting.

"Do you mind if I crash here tonight? I am not keen to go home," Cillian eventually asked his brother Frank as it was getting late, and, of course, he did not mind.

"Sure, you can have the guestroom upstairs, man," Frank suggested, knowing full well that his wife would not appreciate him sleeping elsewhere on such short notice. But he was his brother, after all, and thus, he did not care about the consequences.

With that, your mother handed Cillian a pillow and blanket, and your father poured him another glass of wine before they continued their conversations.

Just as they talked, you could not leave your eyes off him, imagining what it would be like to kiss him and what it would feel like to hold him close. You blushed just thinking about it and tried concentrating on the adult talk around you.

This continued for quite a while, but since both your parents had to work the following day, at around ten o'clock that night, they decided to retire to bed, leaving you and Cillian alone on the couch.

As they left, Frank gave Cillian a pat on the shoulder, wishing him a good night and then, after a little small talk between you and him, Cillian too made his way upstairs, leaving you all alone on the couch.

Your eyes locked onto Cillian as he walked away, and you could not help but stare at his rear end as he ascended the stairs. Your heart started racing again, your body craving to get closer to him.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he glanced back down and caught you looking at him.

As his eyes met yours, a shared understanding was passing between you. It was a silent agreement that neither of you could ignore. The electricity between you was palpable, and it was clear that something had to give.

Your eyes alone motivated Cillian to come back down, and as he slowly descended the stairs, he never once broke eye contact with you.

Silently, he then approached you on the couch, sitting beside you and placing his hand gently on your thigh.

"This has been a good evening," he whispered, causing your heart to race wildly.

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning ignorance, but both of you knew exactly what was meant.

"Oh, nothing specific," he responded, his eyes searching yours, the desire between you two evident.

You could not control the heat radiating from your cheeks nor the swelling in your chest.

With his hand still on your thigh, you nervously cleared your throat.

"Why don't we watch a movie? You do not seem tired yet," you nervously suggested, desperately trying to change the mood.

Cillian raised an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued by your suggestion.

"Are you sure that watching a movie is what you want to do?" he asked, his voice deep and husky.

His fingers moved gently along your thigh, drawing circles, and sending shivers down your spine.

"No..., or maybe yes. I do not know," you stammered in response before inhaling sharply.

"Fuck, I am sorry, Cillian, I just find myself struggling to keep my eyes off you," you then blurted out, your heart pounding loudly in your ears, feeling like a fool.

He chuckled lightly, his warm breath caressing your cheek. "I have noticed, and, to tell you the truth, I can’t keep my eyes off you either," Cillian told you before he paused for a moment, his fingertips grazing the sensitive area behind your knee.

"So, instead of watching a movie, do you want to show me where you sleep?" Cillian asked teasingly and with quite some confidence, causing you to gasp.

A mix of excitement and fear coursed through your veins as you struggled to breathe properly. "You want me to take you to my room?" you murmured, allowing his hand to move higher up your thigh.

"Yes," he whispered, his voice dripping with lust.

“But, you are married,” you ought to point out, causing Cillian to chuckle again.

“Yes, I am, but I am sure you can keep a secret,” he told you, and you nodded shyly, cheeks blushing.

"You know, I haven't had sex in weeks," he confessed, his voice more profound than ever, causing you to swallow harshly. He certainly knew what he wanted, and he was rather direct and forward about it.

"Is that true?" you asked, your heart racing.

"Yes," he replied, running his finger along your thigh, sending shivers down your spine. "But I won't pressure you into anything," he reassured you.

You were taken aback by his candour but also found it oddly arousing. "I... I have not either, I mean never...I never had sex before," you admitted, biting your lip nervously.

Cillian smiled, reaching over to place his hand gently on your cheek. "Don't worry. If you're ready, I'll take it slow and ensure you feel comfortable." His tone was reassuring, causing a wave of relief to wash over you.

Feeling emboldened, you stood up from the couch, brushing off any lingering embarrassment. "Alright," you whispered, moving closer to him, and as you reached out to touch his face, he took your hand, leading you towards your room.

The room was quiet, lit only by the moonlight filtering through the window. As you led Cillian to your bed, a sense of anticipation filled the air.

The silence between you was suddenly deafening, heightening the tension. Each step seemed to echo in your ears as if amplifying the magnitude of the moment. As you reached your bed, you turned to face him, your hearts pounding together.

His eyes bore into yours, conveying a mix of desire and tenderness. He slowly reached for your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"It will feel good Y/N, I promise," Cillian told you in a low, reassuring voice.

Your heart raced, and you felt a flush of nerves sweep through your body.

"Okay," you whispered, your lips trembling slightly, and as you let go of each other's hands, you couldn't help but glance down at his crotch, wondering what lay beneath those dark jeans.

You could see the longing in his eyes, mirroring your feelings. Without further ado, he took off his shirt, revealing his toned physique.

"May I kiss you?" Cillian then asked, seeing that you had not crossed this line just yet.

"Yes," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. As you inched closer to him, you could feel your heart racing in your chest. The room was now bathed in moonlight, casting an ethereal glow upon the scene. You gazed into his eyes, lost in the depths of their intensity before, finally, his lips crashed onto yours in a passionate kiss.

Cillian's hands roamed your clothed body as your tongue danced around his. His touch was tender as if he were taking great care not to scare you off. Slowly, he removed your shirt, exposing your delicate skin to the cool night air.

Your breasts quivered in the moonlight. Cillian's eyes widened, clearly appreciative of your natural beauty. He gently cupped one breast, causing you to shiver slightly.

"No bra, huh?" he teased, his voice rough with emotion. You blushed, feeling exposed but also exhilarated by his words.

"Uh-uh, I don’t like wearing a bra," you simply stammered in response as, quickly, he unbuttoned your jeans as well, and you nervously wiggled out of them.

"You are beautiful," Cillian told you, gazing over your naked figure, and you blushed in response.

"I-I didn't think you would find me attractive," you stammered, your voice cracking slightly.

Cillian smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't underestimate yourself, Y/N. Now, lie down and let me show you how good I can make you feel," he commanded, his voice deep and authoritative.

Obediently, you lowered yourself onto the bed, your heart racing in anticipation.

Cillian soon he followed suit, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gently exploring your curves.

He trailed his fingers down your stomach, tickling your soft skin and making you giggle. His fingers traced the outline of your breasts, eliciting a shiver from you. Finally, his hand reached your hip, encouraging you to open your legs wider.

Slowly, he slid his fingers down the inside of your thigh, stopping just short of your clothed crotch. He gazed at you with hooded eyes, his expression intense. You found yourself holding your breath, anticipating his next move.

Cillian, sensing your growing impatience, decided to remove his pants, revealing his thick, hard cock straining against his briefs. Your eyes widened, unable to look away from the powerful erection before you.

As he leaned forward, he whispered in your ear, "Do you trust me, Y/N?" His voice was low and husky, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You nodded without hesitation, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Yes, I trust you," you answered, your voice wavering slightly.

"Good, then take off your panties for me," Cillian said, his voice low and seductive.

Your eyes widened, and you hesitated briefly before nodding. With trembling hands, you removed your last piece of clothing, leaving you completely vulnerable and exposed.

Cillian leaned forward, capturing your lips in a fierce, passionate kiss, sending a surge of excitement through your body. His hands travelled down your smooth back, stopping just above your ass, before slowly sliding back up, teasingly tracing the curve of your lower back.

"Open your legs for me. Let me touch you," Cillian commanded, his voice hoarse with desire. You hesitantly complied, moving your legs apart so he could touch you.

"You look so fucking sexy like this," Cillian then whispered before proceeding to gently slide his index finger across your entrance, circling it teasingly.

Moaning involuntarily, you arched your back, seeking more contact. Cillian obliged and tentatively slid his finger into you, causing you to gasp. His eyes were locked onto yours, watching your reaction closely.

"So tight," he whispered, gently kissing your neck, and you took a deep breath, trying to relax and calm your nerves. It was strange being in this new territory, experiencing something so intimate with someone you barely knew.

"Have you ever touched a man before?" Cillian then asked before wiggling, with his free hand, pulling down his briefs.

"No," you stammered as you looked at him. He was even bigger than you thought and more imposing than you imagined.

"Give me your hand, Y/N," Cillian said gently before reaching for it and guiding it towards his cock.

"Touch me," he whispered, his voice a deep rumble. Nervously, you obeyed, feeling the heat radiating from his body as you tentatively wrapped your fingers around his thick shaft. Your heart raced, and you could feel the warmth of his flesh against your palm. Cillian closed his eyes, savouring the sensation as you began to stroke him gently.

At the same time, he circled his fingers over your clit, applying light pressure as he experimented with different rhythms. You groaned, feeling your body start to heat up.

As you continued to play with his shaft, Cillian increased the intensity of his movements, causing you to whimper in delight. The combination of your touches and his expertise sent a wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

Cillian pulled you close, kissing you deeply, his hand now circling your clit firmly, drawing moans from your throat.

His mouth left yours to trail kisses down your jawline to your neck, causing your body to shudder with desire. His fingers moved faster, pressing harder, as your body quaked, losing control of the waves of pleasure washing over you.

"Oh god!" you cried out, gripping his shoulders tightly, your fingers digging into his skin as you drowned in the sensations cascading through your body. Your mind went blank; the only thing you were aware of was the overwhelming sensuality filling your world.

"Sssh, your parents are right next door," Cillian warned you. "You need to be quiet," he told you, but it was not just fear of discovery that made you quiet; it was the intensity of the moment.

Every muscle in your body tensed, waiting for the next wave of pleasure to crash over you. Cillian, with his experienced touch, knew precisely what you needed. Gently, he shifted your body, guiding you into a new position.

As he settled on top of you, right between your spread-out legs, you felt his hardness against your softness, the contrast making you feel even more desirable.

"Do you want me to wear a condom?" Cillian asked, hoping that the answer would be no.

"I am on the pill. What would you prefer?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Cillian smiled devilishly, knowing you were curious about what was to come.

"I would rather fuck you bare and cum inside you," Cillian said confidently, his tone filled with raw masculinity. His confidence seemed to be having a powerful effect on you, making you wetter than you realized.

"But I'll use a condom if you insist," he added, his voice softening.

"No, I trust you," you replied, finally embracing the adventurous side you had been hiding from everyone else.

Without further ado, Cillian kissed you deeply while supporting your weight with his strong arms. He teased your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, causing a pleasant tingle to shoot through your body. The sensation was both foreign and familiar, amplifying the connection between you two.

As his hands roamed your body, his fingers explored your secret places, triggering even more feelings you had never experienced before. Your arousal grew rapidly, and you found yourself yearning for more of his touch.

Cillian, sensing your growing eagerness, shifted your position again, spreading your legs wider apart and then positioning himself against your entrance again.

His length was already leaking precum into your slid and the feeling of it mixed with your own arousal created a sensation unlike anything you'd ever experienced before.

"Is it going to hurt?" you asked nervously, breaking the intense connection you shared. Cillian smiled reassuringly, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you softly.

"Only at first," he assured you, his eyes brimming with tenderness. "I'll go slow, alright?" Cillian asked, his voice deep and commanding, causing you to nod.

“Okay,” you whispered as he began to press his tip against your entrance, slowly, gauging your readiness. Your body tensed and quivered in anticipation, each movement from Cillian causing you to writhe in excitement.

The head of his cock finally entered you, causing a sharp exhale from you as your body accommodated his size. Despite the painful sensation, there was also an indescribable pleasure in taking him deeper. Your breath caught in your throat, tears welling up in your eyes.

This was it, this was your first time, and you could not help but feel overwhelmed. You grasped Cillian's shoulders tightly, finding solace in his strength and experience.

"You're doing great," Cillian reassured you, his voice soft and tender. "Take deep breaths and the pain will fade," Cillian encouraged you as he pushed into you further.

"You are taking my cock so well. Such a good girl," he whispered, his voice laced with desire as you nodded, trying to concentrate on the task at hand.

Cillian gently started moving his hips, slowly pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in, giving you a chance to adjust to his size. You winced in pain but also felt a strange sense of empowerment that this man's presence was enough to make you feel desirable despite the pain. Each thrust brought a mix of pleasure and discomfort, but as you got used to his size, you learned to focus on the sensations and not the initial pain.

The feeling of him filling you, his cock gliding effortlessly in and out, was beyond words. The erotic friction between your bodies heightened your arousal exponentially. You became addicted to the rhythm of his hips, the sound of his grunts, and the way his sweaty skin slapped against yours.

Cillian, reading your body language perfectly, sped up his pace, picking up the tempo and pushing deeper inside you. The pleasure became more intense, overpowering, and overwhelming.

The rhythm between you both picked up, a perfect symphony of moans and grunts echoing throughout the room. Your body bucked beneath him, craving the fullness of his cock, the sheer force of his passionate embrace, and the unyielding intensity of their connection. With each thrust, the walls seemed to disappear, leaving you suspended in a sensory-rich universe where nothing existed except for the primal, primordial need to mate.

You moaned louder, and Cillian placed a hand on your mouth.

"Shh, remember to be quiet," Cillian told you with urgency, and you nodded again, understanding the gravity of the situation and how it would affect your relationship with your family if discovered.

This newfound sexual awakening had brought forth a wildfire that burned brightly yet dangerously close to the flammable tinder that was your family's innocence.

His hands were rough from years of playing his craft, yet gentle when they caressed your body. Every touch left a burning trail across your skin, igniting passion within you.

You grabbed onto Cillian's shoulders with all your might, his muscles rippling under your palms. Your cries mingled with his growls, creating a symphony of animalistic fervour. Your entire being seemed to be alive with electricity as you moved together in perfect harmony.

Cillian's hand found its way to your breast, squeezing and pinching the sensitive nipple. You let out a soft moan, arching your back to push your chest closer to his hand.

Cillian responded by placing a warm, rough kiss on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart raced, fuelled by the intensity of the moment. His fingers trailed down to your lower stomach, brushing against your clit, making you squirm with desire. His touches were both rough and tender, combining elements of dominance and affection that sent your body spiralling into ecstasy.

His tongue danced along your earlobe, making you pant with anticipation.

"Let's change positions. I am not ready for you to cum just yet," he eventually told you as he could tell that you were close to orgasming again, following which you would probably be too sore to continue.

"I want to enjoy this for a little longer," Cillian teased, and your lips parted slightly, surprise written all over your face. It seemed impossible to deny yourself such a release after coming so far. But something about Cillian's words, his voice full of control and authority, made you trust him completely.

You reluctantly agreed, though deep down, you ached for the satisfaction of reaching climax. Instead, you focused on the sensations coursing through your body, each stroke of his hand drawing you closer to the edge without allowing you to fall over.

"How do you want me?" you asked, feeling daring in the darkness of the room. Cillian's eyes gleamed with desire as he contemplated your question.

"Turn around and present your ass to me," he ordered, his voice deep and authoritative. Your heart quickened with excitement at his dominance, obeying him instinctively. You turned around, presenting your bottom to him, feeling vulnerable yet excited by the thought of being taken from behind.

Cillian grabbed your hips firmly, pressing his hard cock against your wet entrance, eliciting a soft moan from you.

As he prepared to enter you from behind, he whispered in your ear, "Remember, it might hurt a bit more in this position, but I promise it won't last long."

You nodded, trying to brace yourself for the unexpected sensation. Feeling a surge of power and control, Cillian positioned himself firmly behind you, holding you tightly. As he took hold of your hips, you felt a sudden burst of pain, but your determination to please him kept you steadfast.

"Breathe, darling," Cillian whispered in your ear, his deep voice echoing through your body, bringing both comfort and arousal. You closed your eyes, focusing on the sensations as Cillian pushed forward, gradually filling you up. The stretching sensation combined with the lingering pain caused you to whimper softly, but Cillian continued to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, promising relief soon.

With every thrust, you grew accustomed to the pain as he hit your cervix, focusing instead on the pleasurable pressure building up inside you.

Cillian began to speak dirty, his words fuelling your arousal even more.

"That's it. Good girl. Take it all, feel how good it is," he commanded, guiding your body to accept his larger size. His tone, a mix of dominance and love, left you yearning for more.

The rhythm of your bodies became a symphony of groans and gasps, the energy between you two undeniably potent. Your moans echoed through the dark bedroom, a testament to the raw desire you both harboured.

Cillian gazed to where you were connected, and the evidence of your innocent lost spurred him on even more. There was a smudge of fresh blood on his cock, a mark of his conquest over your virginity. It filled him with pride, and he wanted to claim you entirely. He increased the pace of his thrusts, pounding into you with a savage intensity. He pulled your hair back, exposing your neck, then kissed it softly, his lips trailing down to your collarbone.

Your moans turned into a low wail, halfway between pain and pleasure. Cillian's touch became rougher, his movements more urgent, mirroring your own growing hunger as he covered your mouth with one of his hands.

"Don't scream, okay? We don't want anyone hearing us," he whispered; his breath hot against your ear. His other hand gripped your hip, steadying you as he thrust into you harder, faster. You cried out, the pain shooting through your body like an electrical current. Despite the pain, your body responded instinctively, meeting his thrusts with a rhythm of its own.

Cillian's lips moved closer to your ear, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur.

"I can feel you wanting to cum, aren't you, sweetheart?" He knew exactly what buttons to press to get you going. The simple mention of your desire was enough to make your knees go weak, and you could no longer bear the exquisite torture of his cock lodged deeply inside you.

Feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the sensations coursing through your body. Your hands fisted the sheets, seeking purchase amidst the swirling chaos of desire and confusion.

"Good girl. Keep taking me a little longer,” Cillian whispered in your ear, his deep voice causing your body to tremble. Your mind was reeling with the sensations coursing through your body, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. The only thing you could focus on was Cillian's cock, driving into you harder and faster. Each thrust elicited a sharp cry from you, but the pain only served to heighten your arousal.

He gripped your hair, pulling you backwards slightly and angling your head towards his shoulder.

"Keep breathing, baby," he whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your neck. Your heart raced with anticipation, your whole body pulsing with desire.

Despite the pain and the discomfort, you craved more. You knew there was something special about this man, something irresistible that drew you in. Your body ached for him, and your soul yearned for the connection he provided.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed into your ear, his rough voice making your stomach flutter.

"Almost there. Good girl. I am going to fill you with my cum soon," Cillian promised, his voice heavy with lust. Your breath caught in your throat at the mere idea of his cum filling you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his cock, begging for it to penetrate deeper.

With each thrust, Cillian's voice dropped lower, becoming rougher with desire.

"That's it, baby. Let go and take me all the way," Cillian urged, his voice hoarse with desire. Your muscles contracted rhythmically around his cock, milking him until he couldn't hold back any longer and you climaxed together, his hand covering your mouth as you did.

His voice rose with excitement, "Fuck, baby!" he growled into your ear, the sound resonating deep within you. With a final powerful thrust, Cillian erupted inside you, his entire body shaking violently. His arms held you tightly, burying his face in your neck as he came. Your body shook beneath him, wracked with aftershocks of pleasure, the room filled with the scent of sex and sweat.

"Hmm," Cillian groaned, still inside of you, releasing the last of his cum.

His chest heaved heavily as he tried to catch his breath. Your body was limp and heavy beneath him, spent from the intense sexual encounter until, eventually, he pulled out of you.

Cillian looked down at where you were joined, his eyes fierce with passion.

"Don't move," he said, keeping you on all fours as his hand reached underneath you, finding the wetness between your legs as you leaked his cum from your gaping hole, tinged with a tinge of blood.

Cillian's thumb rubbed the outside of your hole tenderly, spreading your combined juices over the entrance before slipping a finger into you slowly. You gasped, your body reacting to his touch despite your exhaustion.

"So full with my cum," he marvelled, admiring your resilience as his fingers circled and probed inside you.

"Is that blood?" you asked, looking back over your shoulder.

"Don't worry. That's normal," Cillian assured you gently, his thumb continuing to rub the entrance of your body, coaxing it to accept his finger again.

"This was our first time together, and it may take some getting used to," Cillian pointed out as if he wanted to do this again sometime.

"You will probably be sore for a few days," Cillian warned, pulling his finger out of you, and as he did, you felt the residual warmth of Cillian's seed inside you.

"Please...please let me clean myself." You whimpered, ashamed of the mess you had become.

"Not yet. Not until I take a picture of your pussy, leaking my cum," Cillian said before he reached for his phone, switching it on.

"Let me take a photo of you right now". With his index finger, he spread open your labia, showing off your hole, filled with his cum and blood. "There. This proves you are mine", he added, his voice low and dangerous.

You blushed, feeling embarrassed and exposed. "Can we please just clean up now?" you implored, wishing you could somehow disappear from the situation, which was both, arousing and embarrassing.

But Cillian was relentless, snapping photos of you and your exposed body. The sight of your defiled body filled him with a mixture of satisfaction and possessiveness.

As he took photos, Cillian's dominant side intensified, his eyes darkening with lust. He spoke to you in a tone that brooked no argument, telling you to remain silent and still. The combination of his authoritative manner and your fear of his reaction, if you refused, made it impossible for you to object.

After taking multiple pictures, Cillian finally decided that you were sufficiently documented.

With a sense of triumph, he switched off his phone and returned it to his pocket.

He stood up, allowing you to pull yourself into a sitting position. You felt incredibly vulnerable, with your legs spread wide apart, leaving you exposed. You were completely at his mercy, and you knew it.

Cillian approached you, his steps deliberate and confident. As he knelt beside you, he ran his fingers gently along your inner thigh, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake.

Your skin prickled with awareness at his touch, and your breath caught in your throat. He traced circles around your entrance, teasing it with his touch. Your body responded involuntarily, pushing forward into his caresses.

"We should get a hotel room next time," Cillian suggested, his voice laced with a hint of arrogance, knowing fully how much he had affected you.

You nodded, trying to regain control of your racing thoughts. "Yes, that would probably be better," you agreed, not daring to look directly at him as, finally, he reached for the tissues on your bedside table.

Gently, he began to clean you up, carefully removing his seed from your body. You could not bring yourself to watch, instead looking away and focusing on his movements, which were slow and gentle, never rushing. When he finished, he offered you the tissues to clean yourself further. Grateful, you accepted them and proceeded to do so, feeling a mix of shame and relief wash over you.

"I should probably leave you now," Cillian said, standing up and putting on his clothes.

"No, wait." You insisted, suddenly needing to express your gratitude. "This was fun. Thank you," you said, and Cillian smirked.

"I will show you more fun after school next Tuesday if you are game," Cillian said, giving you a suggestive grin.

"Tuesday sounds good," you replied, trying to match his boldness, even though you were unsure if you were ready for more.

Cillian leaned in, placing a light kiss on your forehead. "Be good," he commanded, flashing you a devilish smile. Then, he left your room, leaving you alone to process everything that had just happened.

Your body trembled, still humming with the aftermath of their intimate encounter.

You couldn't believe what had just transpired between you two, but at the same time, you found yourself wanting more.

Your cheeks flushed as you recalled Cillian's commanding presence and the raw intensity of their connection.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic #dark! cillian murphy #dark!cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian murphy fic

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 6 months

Text

Under the Weather | Cillian Murphy x Reader

Summary | It's your one-year anniversary with Cillian and he's just finished filming The Party but as the night goes on, you begin to feel feverish and sick. Cillian comes home and takes care of you.

Warnings | fluff lol; age-gap.

Pale Blue Eyes- The Velvet Underground 🎶

word count: 1421

Don't interact if you're a Yvonne hater. This is a completely fictional piece and does not reflect Cillian or his family in reality. Read with the assumption that Cillian is not married and does not have children.

........................................

She started to feel sick around noon, the inklings of fatigue and fever creeping up into her head. She went to dinner with Cillian as she said she would for their one-year anniversary but her pearl earrings felt colder than usual against her feverish skin and she shivered when she had pulled on her dark green dress with the boat neck that exposed her collarbones to the chilly air. Curling her hair was too much, and the heat had left her exhausted and sweaty, even though she was cold. She tightened her green buckled flats and sat up in her chair at the vanity, placing a warm hand against her hot forehead and sighed. She wasn’t sure if she was actually sick or just anxious from the weeks of filming that Cillian had been preoccupied with for The Party. But he was done now and focused on his private life, the life that included her now.

He was 41 and she was 28, and already the media had a lot to say about their relationship. She was young but not that much so, she’d gone from crappy sitcoms and low-budget movies to blockbuster films and award shows. She was just as relevant as Cillian, though she may be a decade younger. She loved Cillian and the way that he helped her with her rehearsals and her anxieties. She confided in him and spilled her guts and he listened, his eyes gentle and validating. He was quiet and reserved when she had first met him on set for Peaky Blinders as one of Micheal Gray’s love-interests. She was almost never in the same scene as him so they never had a moment to speak until an interview that she was invited to attend with the main cast. She was seated next to him on the raised platform in front of the cameras when the clip keeping the back of her dress together broke and nearly unraveled in front of everyone. Without hesitation, CIllian had reached over and pulled the two ends of fabric together, keeping her dress from falling down her chest. He kept his hand against her back for the remainder of the interview, and still added to the discussion and smiled when prompted to. When the cameras stopped, he helped her get up from her seat, still holding her dress together and helped her off. He only left once a crew member had successfully pinned her dress, giving her a kind smile and a nod.

And now here they were.

She checked Cillian’s watch on the bedside table and hurried to finish getting ready before he arrived at 7. He’d made reservations at a small restaurant in Dublin where he knew the owners and their children. Smoothing down her short emerald green dress, she hurried down the stairs to the first floor of the walkup she shared with Cillian in Dublin and waited anxiously by the door for the familiar sound of footsteps on the granite steps. She saw his silhouette through the textured glass on the front door and threw it open before he could knock. He was startled but smiled when he saw who was waiting for him.

“My God, you look lovely darling!” He smiled and closed the door behind him, blocking out the summer breeze. He put each hand on her waist and turned her around slowly to see what she was wearing. He’d finished an interview for The Party and changed into his suit in the dressing room before driving back, so he looked slightly rumpled but unmistakingly beautiful.

“How was the interview?” She asked, her hands clasped around his neck.

“Eh, I’m happy it's all over with ya’ know?” The wrinkles around his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

He kissed her head but when he pulled away, he frowned down at her.

“You feel warm.” He put the back of his hand against her cheek and moved it to her forehead, clucking his tongue. “Do you feel alright, love?”

“I thought I might be getting sick but it's not bad, I can still go.” She waved him off.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast. I think you have a fever.” He took her hand and led her to the kitchen and picked her up, setting her down gently on the countertop.

“You mustn’t make such a fuss, Cillian.” She sighed defeatedly, her hands clasped either side of the cold marble countertop.

“Hush, love.” He rummaged through the medicinal cabinet in the kitchen and retrieved the mercury thermometer that they had bought at a drugstore as a house-warming gift for themselves. “Open your mouth for me,” she complied, touching her tongue to the roof of her mouth, “good girl.” He praised her.

“This is ridiculous. I feel fine, Cillian!” She mumbled around the thermometer. He rested his arms on either side of her body, his legs planted firmly between her knees. He said nothing but glanced down at his watch every few seconds to check the time. When it was done he pulled the thermometer from her mouth and read it to her.

“100.3. You’re sick, love.” He laughed softly and placed the thermometer on a folded cloth by the sink to wash later. “Come on.” He spread his arms and she reluctantly hugged him around his shoulders so that he could pick her up. He sighed softly as he arranged her in his arms and climbed the short flight of steps to the second floor.

“What about the dinner reservations?” She whined into his shoulder, her nose crushed against the soft fabric of his suit.

“It'll be fine, darling. Let me worry about that.” He passed through the doorway into their bedroom and laid her down on the bed. She squirmed in protest when he went left, going down the stairs quickly. She could hear him moving around the kitchen for a while before coming back up the stairs, a glass of water and Tylenol in his hands. She sat up against the pillows at the headboard and curled her knees into her chest. He sat on the edge of the bed and gave her two of the distinct white chalky pills.

“Take these.” He ordered softly and waited.

“Yes, sir.” She grumbled and swallowed the pills, downing them with water. He took the empty glass from her hand and placed it on the nightstand.

“Let me get you out of these” He unbuckled her shoes and tossed them aside, his hands patting each ankle as he did so.

“I’m sorry, Cillian.” She whispered, her arms held up in the air in a pitiful request for affection. He leaned over and hugged her.

“For what, darling?” He furrowed his brow and stroked her hair.

“For being sick on our anniversary.” She sniffed and fought back childish tears. He pulled away and rubbed his thumb over her feverish cheek.

“That’s nothing to be sorry for, love. We still get to spend the evening together, right?” He smiled and kissed the top of her head.

“Ok.” She nodded and allowed him to remove her earrings, sliding the backings off into his hand and returning them to her jewelry box. She turned to the side as his hands found the top of her zipper. As he pulled, her skin tingled with goosebumps all the way down to her tailbone. His hands slid the dress off her shoulders and pulled it over her head. She was naked besides her underwear and sensitive to the cold. Cillian quickly took one of his long sleeve shirts and pulled it down over her head. She slid her arms through the sleeves and curled into his side as he leaned over, resting the dress carefully on the arm of a chair. When he straightened back up, he put one arm around her shoulders and the other one on his stomach. She nestled beneath the sheets and wool blankets beside him and breathed him in.

As she started to fall asleep, he cradled her in his arms, holding onto her with security and love. He waited patiently as she slept before changing out of his suit. He turned off the lights and applied a cold washcloth to her head as she slept soundly beside him. He laughed softly when her nose was congested and she started breathing through her mouth, drooling slightly on her pillow. He combed his fingers through her hair and kissed the crown of her head into the night before he fell asleep himself, his arms tightly around her.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #the party #cillian x y/n #fluff #cillian fanfic #cillian fluff #fanfiction #under the weather

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katiesyellowcardcollection · 1 month

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I'll drive, I'll drive all night

Katie McCabe x y/n McCabe

(younger sister)

part two part 3

Trigger warnings: mentions of poor mental health not to much detail, suggestions of sexual assault.

AN: not sure if i like this but i wanna start writing more so its start ig😅 please comment tips or any advice🙏🙏

your not to sure how you’ve ended up in london, when you got on the flight from dublin or how you ended up at your big sisters front door, you just remember the argument, you remember storming out of school and you remember your ma shouting and doors slamming and now you were in London on a chilly wednesday evening.

You hesitated to knock scared of what Katie’s reaction will be, you haven’t seen her much recently and you’ve been ignoring her frequent calls and messages asking how you were, if you were going to the game or if you were going to call tonight despite your pretty much radio silence towards your older sister she persisted in messaging you, each one being left unopened.

“y/n what the fuck are you doing here? ma has been worried sick”.

you hear a familiar irish accent shout, flinching slightly at the tone of her voice, she sounded furious, you’ve seen your big sister angry on multiple occasions but not like this, it scared you.

“i’m sorry”.

you say barely above a whisper looking down at the floor the tiling on the porch suddenly much more interesting then it was 30 seconds ago.

“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it y/n you’ve had the entire family out searching for you, i was on my way to get a flight over to come and help and you turn up here with zero explanations as to how you’ve ended up here, you ran away from school yet again and now your kicked out of yet another school, ma is in an absolute state she’s at her wits with you y/n”

you wish the ground could swallow you right there and then, you wish you wasn’t having this conversation with katie, you wanted to be tucked up in bed away from her, away from everything going on.

“i didn’t mean to scare ma”

you tell her sincerely making a point to look her in eyes.

“ i don’t know what happened honestly i don’t even know how i got here it’s like i don’t even know what’s going on with me anymore”

your words hang in the air for a few minutes as katie observes you she can see your shaky breathes, she notices your eyes darting around the floor looking anywhere but at her.

She wants to wrap you up and keep you safe from the world, she wants nothing more than to know what’s going with you.

“Hey it’s okay y/n i’m sorry i shouted at you i was just worried, i’ve been worried about you and i just want to help you, let’s get you inside and ill get cait to make you her famous hot chocolates and we can talk about things alright?”

she questions tilting her head slightly although it’s more of a demand then a question not wanting to anger her further you nod.

~~~

Sat on Katie’s sofa, hot chocolate in hand and snuggled with coopurr is not how you expected you’d spend the evening when you woke up, you had plans to go out with your friends to the nearest fields where all the teenagers in Kilnamanagh hung out, those plans seemed long gone now though.

you wondered for a spilt second if your friends would care that you hadn’t shown up , if they were worried as to where you’d disappeared to before remembering that they didn’t care, not really, no one truly cared.

you weren’t happy and you hadn’t been for a long time, you were struggling more then you cared to admit your smile no longer met your eyes, your football boots were discarded in a cupboard somewhere having not been worn in months, not touched a ball in months, you were getting into trouble more often then not, having been taken home by the police on more then one occasion for anti social behaviour, your attendance had slipped you no longer cared for getting perfect grades or for winning awards to take home to your family for your ma to put up proudly around the house to show off their perfect daughter.

you were a silhouette of the girl you used to be, the small carefree little girl who ran wild with a ball at her feet, the little girl who didn’t care about the opinions of strangers, the mischievous grin that you used to wear constantly had vanished replaced by a constant scowl, one which you were currently displaying.

Feeling your sisters gaze fall on you, you begrudgingly look up at her.

“What happened at school y/n”.

she questions searching your face for answers.

“the teachers pissed me off”

“language y/n your 15 quit with the swearing already” she says giving you a pointed look.

“right yeah sorry anyways they annoyed me so i left i hate school it’s so shit i can’t stand that place i don’t get the work cause im stupid and it’s just horrible katie”

you know that’s not the whole truth and whilst yes your head of year had annoyed you but it wasn’t why you got on a flight and it wasn’t why you ran out of school.

Katie’s eyebrows raised in question.

“so you ran away got on a flight, came to my door to lie straight to my face when all i want to do is to help you”

biting your lip you hesitate slightly, the tension in the room coming to all time high.

“im not lying”

she scoffs at you shaking her head slightly.

“Me and you both know that theirs more to the story then what your letting on y/n your lies aren’t gonna cut it this time, they may

work on ma but i know when your lying”.

your sisters voice sounds more firm and more confident then your own.

Trembling slightly you continue to act oblivious, biting your lip as you do so, this time drawing a small amount of blood.

“There’s nothing more to the story just drop it katie”

You can’t look at her in the eyes, you can’t tell her the full extent of what happened in fear that she’ll judge you or blame you for what happened.

scoffing she closes her eyes before taking a deep breathe as comes and sits opposite you placing her own hands in yours and looking up at you searching for clues as to what was going on.

“I know your lying to me right now i’m not stupid, we can sit here all night and keep going round in circles until you tell me the full truth, no more running from it and no more lies”.

You didn’t know what to make of that statement, you’d never heard her be so firm with you before, You knew deep down you wanted to tell her what happened that night and what happened at school you wanted her comfort in fact you needed her comfort, one of her hugs.

“Do you promise you won’t be disappointed you can be angry but please don’t be disappointed in me i’m really sorry katie”

Katie’s face softens slightly and she shakes her head.

“ I’ll never be disappointed in you y/n angry yes but never disappointed im so proud of you bug i always will be no matter what”.

“erm like maybe 3 or 4 months ago um well i went to a party and um this boy he he”

you couldn’t finish your sentence, the memories from that night came rushing back to you, the way he smelled and the way he spoke to you, what he did to you, it repulsed you to think about, to think of his touch.

“ i- i can’t-t breathe”

whatever anger Katie had previously held towards you completely disappeared as she wrapped her arms around your shaking body.

“i’ve got you sweetheart let it all out it’s okay, i’ve got you”

#arsenal women #beth mead #vivianne miedema #awfc x teen reader #katie mccabe x teen reader #caitlinfoord #womensfootball #woso #leah williamson

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thereofrin · 6 months

Text

My sister had to walk home from town because there were no busses available due to all the violence. So this is your friendly reminder that the people rioting are only pretending to care about the safety of women and children because a lot of women and children were unable to get home safely tonight as a result of the riots. My sister was lucky that halfway home, her roommate was able to pick her up and drive her the rest of the way. You know who wasn't lucky? My brothers friend who happens to be a poc. She walked out of work today, completely unaware of what was going on, and some fella ran straight up to her, punched her in the face, and ran away. This woman did nothing wrong. She got up this morning, went to work and then the second she stepped outside, she got attacked.

The people rioting in Dublin today are nothing more than far right, fascist scum.

#Ireland #Dublin #Dublin riots #Riots

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xmycxx · 6 months

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Hi, so I know there's a lot of atrocities happening in the world right now, I'd just like to temporarily bring your attention to another one.

Yesterday, in one of the busiest streets in Dublin, Ireland, a man stabbed 3 children, a woman and another man. A woman and a man disarmed him and the perpetrator was then beaten. He was arrested and then shortly taken to be treated for his wounds.

The victims were treated for their injuries, the worst of the injuries was a 5 year old girl who spent the night in the intensive care unit.

The man was verified to be Algerian, and despite having lived in Ireland for the past 20 years is being flagged as "an irish attacking immigrant." (these facts have been passed through grapevines and articles, if someone has more accurate facts I'm more than happy to change this post).

This then led to riots against immigrants taking place in city centre. For context, the anti immigrant riots have slowly escalated. 3 years ago, there were monthly protests. 1 year ago, there were weekly protests.

Yesterday, busses, trains and cars were burnt.

Stores were looted.

Hotels/Camps where refugees were staying were attacked.

Police were assaulted.

Students were forced to take shelter in their friends homes or in college for the entire night.

Today, there have been rumors of these same anti-immigrant groups attacking bus/train stops in order to, and I quote: "Kill all immigrants, just kill 'em all."

Tomorrow, there is a protest planned in city centre against all immigrants in city centre.

This incident is just the beginning, everyone has seen this story before. This is not a new story. Please raise awareness and do what you can. If you know someone in Dublin, please pass this information on.

#dublin #ireland #riots #anti-immigrant #news

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siampie · 2 months

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Finding You || Chapter 1

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings/tags: pinning, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome

A/N: Okay, wrote this in two days and couldn’t wait to share it with you guys. Alright, hear me out. I’ve rewatched Kin while writing this chapter, and I realized that there is a house right next to Michael’s and they share the same driveway. After some research, I’ve learned they are called semi-detached house. They share a main wall. Usually, they are mirrored. It isn’t the case in Kin. And I kept it that way. So, be prepared for some shenanigans or not. I’m not really sure what I’m gonna do with that information. If you have some ideas just drop them in the comments. It could be fun for future chapters. So, I’m happy to share the result of my investigation. I also hope I did a good job in writing Michael’s brief POV. And forgive my attempt at writing an Irish accent. I don’t think I did a good job. But I’ll let you be the judge of that. Can you also tell that the only other person I really like from this family is Birdy? I hope you’ll like this first chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter List || Next chapter

Masterlist || join my taglist

Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie, @sunflowersandsapphires, @schneeflocky, @danzer8705, @shouldbestudying41

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Dublin, Ireland. When you decided a few months ago to move out, Dublin wasn’t even on your list of destination. You didn’t even think of it. But there you were. You jumped the sea, as they would say back home. You had crossed two oceans to reach this beautiful city. To start anew.

After your father passed away, a little over two years ago, you needed a fresh start. You had spent a decade taking care of him while he was sick and in recovery. Working small jobs, barely having any friends or barely going out. You lived to take care of him and nothing else. When he died, you were saddened, yes. But you had felt relief more than anything. And then, you had felt guilty for it. He was your father and you loved him. Although, resentment had taken over in the last few years. Not just towards your father, towards your siblings too. Still, you loved him.

Why Dublin? You did not know. Why not Dublin? As you were making the decision to move out of your current place—place you had shared with your father—you had seen an ad that promoted travels to Ireland. It looked so beautiful and so green. It looked so inviting and you thought to yourself; Ireland seemed like the perfect place to start over.

So, there you were, settling into your new home. Your father had not forgotten what you had sacrificed while you took care of him. In his last will, he had left you a significant amount of money to do as you pleased. He wasn’t rich by any means, the money he had left was significant for someone like you. A couple of hundred thousand euros. When you heard the news, you were surprised by that. You had not realized that your father had saved up so much money. You even wondered where it had come from since you were the one who had managed his financials in the later years. You were not complaining though. He had left you enough to start over. It had been enough for you to move country and buy your new house.

Of course, your siblings had been supportive in your decision. Giving you their blessings, not that you had needed it. Not really. It had made your decision to move easier though. The most supportive of them was your youngest brother; Matthew. It was funny to you that he was now your greatest support. Growing up you both hated each other. You were his eldest of five years. You fought constantly, always at each other’s throats. And now, you were the closest you had ever been. He was the one you turned to when you needed help. And every time, he needed help he turned to you. It wasn’t that you did not trust your two other siblings but you trusted him the most. And they knew it.

You had started a new job too. You worked at a call center for an insurance company. Providing people with the help they needed for their house after a housefire or for water damages, or even after they had been robbed. It was not your dream job but it was a job. It paid the bills and the groceries. You had no reason to complain really. Except about the people that were calling and sometimes being rude on the phone. You understood that it was taking too long for some of them but you couldn’t go against the system. There were rules you had to follow and you were doing your best to provide them the help they needed. However, some of them had a tendency to forget that you were also human. And yelling at you, was not going to make you go faster.

Funniest part about you working in a call center was that you hated talking on the phone. As an introvert, you hated phone conversation. Your sister; Mary knew it more than anyone. You had told her that you always get annoyed every time she called. You did talk to her on the phone and you always ended up having a good time on the phone. But it always felt as though she was being rude anytime she called you. So, that you chose to work in a call center, was a laughable idea. Because every time the phone rang, which was pretty often in your line of work, you hated it. Sure, you had a script to follow but some of those problems were specific and you needed to think on the spot. Which you weren’t really good at. That was why you loved texting more than you loved calling. At least, when you were texting you had time to think of an answer. On the phone, you were pulling answers out of your ass. And they weren’t sometimes the best. Also, staring at a screen all day was draining.

In spite of that, you loved your new house and your new life so far. It was all perfect. Except maybe for the fact that you were living next door to criminals. You knew you should have questioned it when the house was sold to you for a low price. You knew it was low because it was Dublin and houses all over the market were much more expensive. But this one went to you for a price you could actually afford. You had gone in expecting to have to rent the place and when they offered to sell it to you instead. You had agreed. However, the realtor had failed to tell you who were your neighbors.

As soon as you had moved into your new home, one of your neighbors had brought you a housewarming gift. A sweet lady that lived across the street from you. Her name was Bridget Goggins but she went by Birdy. She had long and dark curly hair. Blue eyes and a kind smile. She had shown you nothing but kindness and you had appreciated it. You immediately took a liking in her. She had told you that her nephew Jimmy, his wife and his two sons lived two houses down from yours. And she had briefly mentioned her nephew; Michael. Apparently, he lived right next to you. He had been gone for some time. And that explained why the house was empty. For you, at the time, you had not seen anything wrong with it. It was just a neighbor being friendly to you and making you feel welcome.

She had been nice. Very nice. Albeit a little too curious about you and your family. Your lips were tight. You did not like to share information about yourself. And you were protective of your family. You gave her very basic and vague information. It wasn’t against her. It was just a thing your father had trained you to do. He had drilled into your brain to not share information about your family, because people would use it against you. So, you mostly hid things about your family and even, lied to some. You didn’t lie to Birdy; you just didn’t tell her much. And neither did she. And you respected that.

You would later learn that the Kinsella, Birdy’s family, were notorious criminals. They dealt in drugs trafficking mostly and may have been involved in a few murders. Specifically, Michael Kinsella. He had been gone alright. Eight years in prison for manslaughter, of his own wife. And it all clicked. The low price, the empty house next door, Birdy being way too curious about you. It all made sense. And it also scared you. You did not want to get involved with the Kinsella. Not if they were going to create problems for you.

You kept to yourself mostly. You barely saw Jimmy and his wife anyway. It was easy to avoid them. As for Birdy, it was slightly more complicated. The woman seemed to always know when to find you. And since you did not want to be rude to her, not just because she was a criminal. But mainly because you were a pushover, you could not refuse her. You kept your distance as best as you could. Although, it was impossible for you not to take a liking in her. She was most of the time motherly towards you. And you had craved that sort of affection since the day your mother had walked out of your life. And as much as you wanted to avoid the Kinsella because of their line of work, you found it hard to just pull away from Birdy. You liked her very much. Against your better judgement.

Apart from living near the Kinsella, your life was quite good here in Dublin. You were settling in nicely. And you loved your house. It was yours, and you made it cozy and warm. It was your own little haven. You loved coming back to it after a long day of work.

Sitting on your couch, you were unwinding after the long day you just had. You heard a distant peel of laughter. When you crossed path with Birdy this morning and she had offered to drop you off, she had mentioned the return of her nephew Michael. She was going to buy some party food for the evening. So, you knew what it meant, your neighbors were celebrating the return of the prodigal son.

And soon, the empty house next door would not be so empty anymore.

It made you nervous for some reason. You were about to share a yard with a murderer. You did not know what to expect. Hopefully, with you two sharing a wall, you’d know how to avoid him. You groaned out loud realizing that Birdy might create problems in the future. You had grown closer to the woman in spite of yourself. And she made it a habit to come and visit you sometimes. Whether you liked it or not you may actually cross path with Michael Kinsella.

“That was a short reunion.” You mused out loud when you heard the distant goodbyes. You switched off your television before going upstairs, to get ready for bed.

You had fell into a fitful sleep that night. Knowing that a man capable of murder was sleeping next door to you, made you feel unsafe. You had lived months in your home, knowing well you lived next to criminals. And yet, it was the man next door that made you feel unsafe in your own bed. And you had not seen him yet. And you had no intention to.

Lack of sleep did not make for a good day at work. You prided yourself in being a very patient person. You had trained yourself though. When you were younger; in the years that followed your mother’s leaving; you had been a very short tempered and moody person. And being a teenager at the time did not help the matter. You would explode at random at the people around you. And it was always your family that was on the receiving end. Did it come from anger? Or grief? Or even sadness? You did not really know. You were pretty sure it was a combination of it all. What really helped though, was your family making fun of you every time you did lose your patience. They would apologize profusely, with a smile on their faces, while bowing to you. The overreaction from them made you laugh every single time. It made you realize how ridiculous you could be. It made you realize you had no business being this enraged because they breathed in your direction.

However, what made you really snap out of it, though, was your sister. You did not remember what was said or when it was really. All you remembered was that one morning during breakfast, your sister was speaking to you and you snapped at her. For no reason at all. And it had brought tears to her eyes. It had hurt her. And it made you realize that you never wanted to make your sister feel this way ever again. She was your only sister and your best-friend, and you needed to treat her better. You needed to treat the people around you better. So, you took it upon yourself to think before you spoke. You stopped yourself before you could snap. Always, taking a deep breath and gave yourself a few seconds before opening your mouth. And sometimes, you just kept quiet and walked away. It had helped you over the years in growing more patient. And also, nowadays, you did not give as much of a fuck as you did back then. It took a lot more for you to lose your temper.

Lack of sleep, on the other hand—never made a good friend when it came to keeping yourself in check. Everything and everyone irritated you. If they glanced at you or even opened their mouth to speak to you, you would get annoyed. But you did keep yourself in control the whole day. You kept yourself in control with your colleagues and with the clients on the phone. And now, you were terribly exhausted. You couldn’t wait to just drop in your bed and be dead to the world for the next twelve hours.

“Hey, Birdy.” You greeted quietly as you got to your house. She was on your neighbor’s doorstep about to go in.

“Hello, pet.” She smiled at you. “You look properly tired, dear. What happened to ya?”

“I feel like it too.” You snorted. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. But I’m going to make up for it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “You’re visiting the new neighbor?”

“I’m bringing him some proper food.” She showed you the trays she was holding. “There’s some here fer ya.”

You sighed. “You didn’t have to, Birdy.”

“I like taking care of ya.” Birdy answered with a soft smile. “Come on, take it.”

“Alright.” You yielded before taking the tray off of her hands.

“Have you met Mikey yet?”

“Can’t say I had the pleasure.” You shook your head, fishing for your keys.

“Wanna come and say hi?” She offered.

Your lips twitched up in the corners. “Not really. Another time, perhaps?” You unlocked your door.

“Yeah, another time.” Birdy smiled at you as you disappeared into your house. As she, herself, disappeared into your neighbor’s house.

Michael was sitting on his sofa, a book in his lap. He had not been reading, not really. His thoughts kept going back to his daughter Anna. He couldn't resist the temptation to go and see her. He had kept his distance but he had taken everything in him to not get up and run to her.

She had looked so grown since he last saw her. She was no longer a child; she was growing to be a young and beautiful woman. Eight years had been a long time away from her. He had missed out on so much. He missed her so much it was hard to breathe sometimes. He had to do things right by her. He needed to do what was right, if he wanted to have her back in his life.

He would straighten out his act. He would stop dealing with the family business. He would keep out of it. He would do everything he could just so he could have her back in his life. It was the most important thing to him at this moment. Anna was the most important thing to him at this time. He must do right by her.

Muffled voices from outside drew his attention away from his own thoughts. He had recognized Birdy but the second voice did not belong to someone he knew. He couldn’t hear much of what was being said. But Birdy and you had seemed really close by the sound of it.

Birdy had pushed the door open and stepped in. “Good evenin’ Mickey.” She greeted him softly. “Brought ya some proper food.” She said showing him the covered dish she had in her hands.

Michael smiled back at her. “Thank ya, Birdy. But ya didn’t have to do that.”

Birdy walked into the kitchen. “Of course, I had to.” She placed the dish on the kitchen counter.

“Who were ya talking to?” Michael couldn’t help but ask. He was curious to know more about you. Especially if Birdy seemed to be close to you.

“Your new neighbor.” She replied taking off her coat. And then gave him your name.

So, that was you; Michael thought. He had caught a brief glimpse of your shadow through your large window, after he had come back from Jimmy’s. The curtains were drawn. But he had seen you through them as you moved around your kitchen. For as far as he could remember, the house next door had always been empty. People tend to refuse to buy once they knew who would be their neighbor. And he couldn’t blame them. It was now strange for him to suddenly have a neighbor after all those years.

The empty house next door would not be so empty anymore.

“She’s a real sweet girl, ya know. A hard worker too. But a bit lonely.” Birdy opened his fridge. “She could use some more friends.”

“Yeah?”

“So could ya.” Birdy wore a small smirk on her face. “I’ll put this in the fridge. Ya can have it later. I’ll get you a few more bits, Mikey. Fill this up for ya.”

“Nah, ya don’t have to go to any trouble. I could do that.” Michael moved to the sofa’s armrest.

“It’s not trouble.” Birdy told him strongly. Before moving next to the stairs. “Not for family.” She smiled at him. “Missed havin’ ya around, Mikey. We all have. We’ve all been waitin’ for ya to get out.” Michael hummed in response. “Especially Frank and your brother. It’s been tough on them without you.” She said softly, gazing back at him. “Carryin’’ the load all on their own. I mean Eric is—he’s a good boy. But he’s not you.” She gave a small shrug.

Frank had put her up to this. Michael just knew it. He knew what she was getting at. Frank wanted him back, in the family business. But he couldn’t do that. Not if he wanted to see Anna again. He wouldn’t change his mind about this.

“But you’re back now,” Birdy said and Michael nodded in response. “That’s the main thing.”

“Yeah.”

Birdy walked up to him. “You understand what I’m sayin’. I know you do. You’re not like your mother. You’re a Kinsella. And we stick together.” And she leaned and rested a light peck to his lips. “Always.”

You probably would have gone another night with a restless sleep if your body was not so exhausted. You had heated up some of the food Birdy had brought you. Although, living next to crime lords was not ideal, Birdy made it easier by taking care of you. As much as you had taken a liking in her. She had taken one in you. Always showing up at your door with extra food or inviting you over to share a cup of tea or coffee. The only issue was that you did not know if she was being sincere with you. You didn’t entirely trust her. Your lack of trust may not have been entirely due to her being a Kinsella. It was also due to your past. You had been burned too many times before and you didn’t know whether she had ulterior motives or not. But you had wanted to trust her more. You really wanted to.

Although, you knew you shouldn’t want that.

You were in a better state of mind that morning. You had your coffee; you were awake and rested. And you hoped for a better day at work.

“Good mornin’.”

You gasped as you turned sharply to face your neighbor. You had not paid attention to your surroundings, too focused on going through your morning routine.

“M’ sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” He softly chuckled.

“It’s okay.” You shook your head quickly. “I just—wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.”

Your heart started to gallop like a wild horse under your ribcage. You were facing the neighbor; you did not want to face. The man who had been sent to prison for manslaughter. You had to remind yourself of that. Because in spite of what you knew, the man standing in front of you was quite handsome. with his thick beard and dark hair. And his hazel eyes were beautiful and seemed kind.

“I’m Michael.” He put out his hand.

Your eyes snapped to his hand. You should probably take it. You really shouldn’t but this would be rude, wouldn’t it? “I know.” You said and introduced yourself. Making the final decision to put your hand in his. His calloused fingers felt rough against yours but his grip was warm and gentle. “Your new neighbor.”

“I know. Birdy told me.”

“Yeah.” You smiled quickly. You pulled your hand out of his grip. “I have to go. I—I don’t want to be late for work.”

“Okay.” His face fell slighty, and you momentarily felt bad.

“It was nice meeting you, Michael.” You said. You did not want him to think that you were running away from him.

“Yeah, you too.” He gave you a tight smile.

“Yeah, bye.” You turned away quickly and made your way to the end of your street where your colleague was waiting for you.

Real criminals didn’t look like criminals, you needed to remind yourself of that. No matter what you may think, Michael still killed people. He only got caught for the murder of his wife. He didn’t matter that he seemed kind. He didn’t matter that he looked handsome. He was still dangerous.

“Fuck!” You cussed as you were getting closer to your colleague’s car. “I’m in trouble.”

Chapter List || Next chapter

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x fem! reader #michael kinsella fic #michael kinsella #michael kinsella fluff #kin rte #kin bbc

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fstcaredublin · 2 years

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Does a Medical Card Cover Nursing Home Fees?

Staying at a nursing home facility can be quite expensive if you don’t have a medical card or any other financial assistance. Further, there is a government scheme to avail yourself of the benefits and assure you need not have to worry about the payment of the facility. Ireland has no free nursing home facilities. Everyone is required to pay for the cost of the care they will receive. But if you have medical insurance or any such facility, it will be better if you look for nursing homes near me and ask if they accept them as payment.

Paying the Nursing Home fees

There are a lot of facilities that can help you save money in the nursing home facility. When you search for care homes in Dublin, it will be better to enquire about the payment options they accept. Having a medical card means you are liable to receive the care to the very best possible without any worry about the payment. It comes under the fair deal scheme.

The government will be there to provide assistance for the payment of the care one requires. The person who has to receive medical care needs to provide a specific amount based on their assets and their ability to pay for the service. But you need to understand that not all nursing homes in Dublin accept the payment in this manner. Thus it is advised to contact them in advance to get a better idea about the payment options.

Based on the level of care or treatment your loved one requires, you will have to pay a certain percentage of the amount. The card will be there to guarantee you need not have to worry about the payment when receiving the services. It would be better if you inquired about the scheme. This can be extremely beneficial for those who are unable to make the payment for the advanced level of care that is required.

Besides, the care homes in Dublin also accept private insurance policies. Make sure you review the advantages of the same and not what is covered under the facility. Generally, the card will help pay for all the medical care or assistance that will be required by the patient. It will include living, diet, medical care and other basic needs of the patient.

Know about the facility

If finding nursing homes near me, connect with First Care for the right support. They have got a clean environment for the people to get the optimum level of care. They will ensure to provide 24/7 medical assistance. The great thing is that they also accept the fair deal program.

#Care Homes Dublin #Nursing homes near me #Nursing Homes Dublin

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farfromstrange · 7 days

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Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 26: Seven Devils All Around

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: When you arrive at your apartment, you notice that the door isn't locked. You make the mistake of entering without calling the police first, and you pay dearly for your recklessness.

Warnings: ANGST, blood, violence, break-in, mentions of suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: It took me a while to get this done because I just wasn't happy with it, but I finally got it done. We're starting to get knee-deep into the next angst arc, so I hope you're prepared for some tension, twists, and turns!

The view behind the windshield blurs through your tears as you navigate the streets of Dublin, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turn white.

You push your foot down on the gas. You want to go home, but you also don’t. Your apartment hasn’t felt like home in a very long time. After meeting Michael, and everything was still somewhat okay, he became your home, but even that seems like a distant feeling now. Your feelings toward him haven’t changed, of course, but the pile of shit you have to deal with keeps getting bigger, and you can’t catch up. You don’t know what to do. The helplessness adds to the pain of being in love—of worrying about the man you love and the family he was born into who seems to only want the worst for you and him—and that makes feeling at home a sheer impossibility.

The motor of your car roars, but you keep going at a speed that might cost you your license until you pull into the dark street of your neighborhood and finally manage to park the car before you break down.

Your sobs echo through the small space. Every hiccuped intake of oxygen rumbles in your chest, burning through every quarter of your lungs. It’s getting significantly harder to breathe.

Leaving was a spur-of-the-moment decision that seemed right at the time. You had to leave. You were drowning, but the hand Michael offered was too far away and too high up to reach. Miles stretched between you; if you had tried swimming toward him, you would have never reached the end alive. You had to save yourself.

Leaving was the right thing to do—at least that is what you kept telling yourself on the drive home. Now, though, you're starting to question what you were thinking, breaking apart at the seams after desperately clinging to a life buoy of paper.

You used to be such a rational person. Perhaps it was the constant ignorance of reality—the lying to yourself and pretending all was well—that made everything easier. You became complicit with your trauma’s need to forget everything and move on because facing the truth was just too painful, and you tried telling yourself that you could barely remember most of it, anyway. The things you could remember, you swore to take care of once you had it figured out, but that was a foolish lie you concocted for the sake of your peace of mind.

After meeting Michael, reality only started seeping in again. Because his reality and your reality have both turned out to be brutal in their essence. Though after all this time of pretending and being eaten alive by the things you knew and couldn’t share—didn’t want to share, even because you knew the consequences could cause your entire life to fall apart—reality has become a weight you forgot how to carry. Now, your world is falling apart anyway, and there seems to be no way out.

You knew this would happen, but you didn’t want to face the truth. That is the problem. And that is, you think, on you entirely. You should have been more careful, knowing your delusions would become your downfall eventually.

And you can’t blame Michael, no matter how badly you want to. You can’t hate or degrade him, not even in your mind. He was worried, he was upset, and he was angry because he had to find out that even after trying so hard to stay on the straight and narrow, his chances of getting custody of his daughter would remain lower than the deepest parts of the ocean. He ran against an invisible clock and still lost, even after making it on time. You tried to help him, and he tried to help himself, but your attempts were futile. Now, after everything, he is scared of losing you, too.

He gave you one condition; stay home and don’t do anything stupid. You couldn’t even do that, and the worry made his fuses blow. That’s not his fault.

You don’t know why you did it. The nagging feeling wouldn’t leave you alone, and you acted on your feelings rather than common sense. You were angry at the world; Frank coming over and confronting you with the pictures that weigh heavy in the pocket of your jeans was merely your last straw in a game you felt like you were going to lose right this second if you didn’t do something other than sit around and wait.

You faced your fears today and hated what you saw. You couldn’t stay, not when your lives are starting to pull you in different directions. Sticking together is a dangerous game, one you no longer know how to play without either one of you—or those around you—getting burned. You’re no good for each other, especially not now, and maybe you have never been.

You couldn’t stay, but right now, crying alone in your car as you’re falling apart, you can’t help but wish Michael was there to hold you through the earthquake that takes you under.

Pushing people away is your defense mechanism as much as it is Michael’s. You should never have let him this close in the first place, knowing the past you’ve been hiding from the world. You were so focused on yourself, playing down the risk behind it that you turned yourself into a fool.

You can put a butterfly bandage on his forehead; you can love him, and you can accept the love he can give you, but none of that will fix something that has been broken from the start. None of that can fix your broken family or bring your sister back to you.

Love, bandages, not even a nail could solve the issue you have been grappling with for years, and it won’t magically condemn your father to a lifetime of torture like the one he subjected you to. Saving yourself comes at a cost, and sometimes the leftover debt becomes too high to pay with an empty bank account. What do you do then? What do you do if you don’t have the means to pay the cost, not even to fight?

You slam the car door, locking it with the press of a button. You’re not thinking straight, you try telling yourself, but your body has a mind of its own.

The stairs leading up to your apartment creak under your footsteps. You take two at a time. Last-minute flights are more expensive, but you have some emergency cash stashed away in your wallet; that should be enough to pay for a flight to London. This is wrong. This is beyond reckless, and if Michael knew, he would move mountains to make sure you would never make it to the airport without opening your eyes and rethinking your decision, but it’s not rationality that drives you.

Every time you breathe, the hourglass loses another grain of sand. Every time you move without a purpose or care, another second is wasted into oblivion. You can’t run fast enough, but you have to try.

Hot tears continue to stream down your cheeks, staining your skin with a mixture of sweat and salt. When you finally reach your floor, you search for the right key on your chain with shaky fingers. It has to be somewhere.

You approach the lock. When you left, you locked it. You know you did. You wrote a note in your phone, just in case you were to wonder if you turned off all appliances and locked the door on your way out. You can never be too careful. Michael’s family plays a huge part in your newfound care. It’s no secret that monsters are no longer just lurking in the dark shadows of an alleyway or under your bed. They are in your head and the people around you, and they are even part of your family—your own flesh and blood. Monsters are everywhere but in the places you expect them to be.

You insert the key, and you stop breathing. The door budges under your touch. You locked the door when you left. You closed it. All windows are shut, and one of your neighbors would have noticed if you had accidentally left one open. They would have called you about any suspicious activity because the old lady in the apartment above yours likes to watch. You’re certain you took the necessary precautions, and yet you push against the wood once, and your door opens completely.

Your ribs are starting to hurt from how hard your heart is pounding against the sturdy bone. “What the—” you mutter under your breath. It’s a warning sign you expertly ignore.

Anyone else would have called the police at the first sign of foul play, but you can’t bring yourself to pull out your phone. If someone played with the lock, or if someone broke into your apartment, there are many things they could have taken, and you have never felt so sick to the pit of your stomach—not even when you were beaten senseless or had to confess to your father that you got a bad mark on a test, knowing he would make sure the injuries no one could see would hurt a few days longer, perhaps even scar so you could never forget what he did to you. But even without the scars, the memories are fresher than daisies on a spring morning.

The floorboards creak. Blood rushes to your cheeks. You reach into your bag, fingers wrapping around the small bottle of pepper spray you ordered online one night after a few glasses of wine and a scary encounter with a stranger on your way home from work in the dead of winter. You clutch the small bottle so tightly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you end up spraying yourself.

The silence is deafeningly loud. It screams into your ear. You’re met not with darkness but with a faint string of light streaming into the hallway from the direction of your living room. You should call the police, you really should, but you don’t. Instead, you breach the doorway and step inside.

Documents line the floor like a thin carpet. Some pieces are torn while others are still held together neatly in the corners by fragile paper clips.

You swallow. After Michael accidentally found the file in one of your drawers, you learned from your mistake and hid them somewhere they couldn’t be found. You thought you did because, between the two of you, you are the only ones aware that it even exists. You tried everything to make sure something like this wouldn’t happen. Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve, but nothing could have prepared you for this.

The blood freezes in your veins. Your hands run cold. Your desk is tipped over, and your couch has been ripped apart at the seams, probably by a sharp blade that cut into the fabric to check the filling inside. You don’t keep any money in the apartment, but the paper trail tells you instantly that whoever did this was not looking for valuables.

Only a handful of people would profit from that file: those who want to hurt you, and the one person who would take it to protect himself—the Kinsellas and your father.

Tears spring to your eyes. The fear that spreads through your body at a speed faster than lighting works as a paralytic. Your father isn’t a criminal mastermind, but he’s ruthless and who knows what he would do if he found out what you are doing behind his back. He wouldn’t just let out all of his anger and frustration on you, he would kill you. If only he knew what you were doing, he would make sure another gravestone would be added next to Ellie’s. He is that kind of person, but not the kind of person powerful enough to orchestrate this. At least that is what you would have believed a few days ago. Now, you’re not so sure anymore what to believe.

The Devil likes to hide in plain sight.

You can only stare and pray to the heavens above that you’re just dreaming. That this isn’t real. That you’re not standing in ruins. You were so careful…

Again, the floorboards creak, but you didn’t take a step this time. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your skull burns as though someone is glaring daggers into the bone. You can feel another presence in the room, breathing down your neck. Your thumb brushes over the trigger.

The light switch on the other end of the room cracks under the weight of a heavy fist. This is it, you think. You’re going to die. But—and even if it’s just for a moment, it still crosses your mind—maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Your ragged breaths break the silence in the sudden darkness. Without warning, a pair of strong arms wraps around you from behind. You cry out, but a gloved hand finds its way over your parted lips. The taste of the leather makes you gag.

Fear takes over in a storm, but your mind refuses to let you curl up and die. You throw your head back, arms flailing as you scratch at his forearms. DNA is crucial, and no matter what happens, you must fight back.

You fight back with every ounce of strength left, but it's like struggling against a force of nature. The masked man is relentless as he crushes you against the wall.

With a deafening crash, the wooden shelf next to the still-open front door topples over as he backs against it with you pressed to his sturdy chest, sending shards of glass and ceramic crashing to the ground.

The pain explodes like a dirty bomb at the side of your skull. He smashes you against the bricks that hide behind the white wallpaper you chose not to paint over after moving here. In the darkness, you can’t see the crimson stain that forms underneath, but the shadow glistens in the moonlight.

You hit the floor hard, the man tossing you to the floorboards. The impact pushes all the air from your lungs. You gasp, and it burns, but you can’t get the oxygen back where it needs to.

Desperation claws at your throat as you reach out, grasping for anything to defend yourself. You are okay with dying, but not without putting up a fight. And is the easy way out really what you want to take to your grave after making it so far? You doubt that. Survival moves to the forefront of your mind. Before you can even muster a coherent thought, the masked stranger is on you again, hands locking around your throat.

You choke, trying to pry him away, but it’s useless. You kick your feet up and forward, desperate for air, and finally knock him off balance. With a growl of frustration, he releases his hold on you.

In the dim moonlight, you catch a glint of porcelain on the floor next to the scattered shelf. It’s the vase that held the flowers Michael gave you on your first date. You didn’t throw them away when they started to wither because you wanted to hold onto that sliver of happiness for a little longer. The sharp piece scratches the inside of your palm, but you continue to reach for it, your teeth gritted as you struggle against your attacker. Eventually, your fingers wrap around the sharp edges, and you try to jab it into his bicep.

The man leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your ear. “Just stop…fuckin’ fighting,” he hisses. You don’t recognize his voice. It doesn’t even cross your mind to try and do so; your only motivation is to get out.

He catches the shard before you can hurt him though. You half-expected him to keep choking you until you pass out or die. Instead, he turns your makeshift weapon around on you.

Time slows to a crawl. With a primal scream of defiance, you lunge forward, trying to get it back. Yet, it's too late.

The glass pierces your flesh, tearing a gash into your side. The pain knocks the remaining air right out of your lungs. You can’t scream. You can’t cry.

Blood wells up against your skin. With a final, vicious twist of the glass, the stranger wrenches the shard free from your body. The walls start caving in. You’re trapped in a box, and the water is rising in your lungs.

The floorboards from the apartment above that make up your ceiling start to creak, and the man sits back on his heels, chin tilted up. He curses under his breath.

You try to catch a glimpse of his face, but the darkness is overwhelming. Again, the floorboards above creak. You want to beg for mercy, maybe even scream for help, but nothing wants to come out.

The weight on your chest disappears. Your eyes flutter, but you force them to stay open, patting along your trousers. Where is your phone? You hope to God you didn’t leave it in the car. You should have called the police. You should have…

It was foolish to think you would stand a chance against an intruder with a mere bottle of pepper spray. It seems as though he was trained for this very moment. He destroyed your apartment, and now he is reaching for what you were trying to preserve. You don’t know who he is, but he seems to know exactly where to find your little secret, and that makes you sick. The pain makes you sick.

How did he know?

Through blurry eyes, you see the masked figure playing with the file in his hand. He passes by you, the mask moving where he’s smirking.

“No,” you choke out. “Please…”

He sighs a condescending breath. “Little girls shouldn’t stick their noses into issues that don’t concern them.”

‘What does that even mean?’ you want to scream back at him, but the only sound that passes your lips is a gurgled moan as the tip of his steel boot starts to dig into the wound on your side.

You reach for him, but he disappears as soon as the light outside turns on and the stairs creak under the weight of your upstairs neighbor—the old lady who once introduced herself as Lilian after you helped her carry her groceries.

The invisible noose around your neck tightens. You haven’t been this scared in a very long time. If you’d stayed; if you and Michael had talked it out, and if you’d tried to be more rational instead of letting your heart take over, this wouldn’t have happened.

You fumble for your phone, your fingers slick with your blood. They tremble against the surface of the screen, leaving crimson fingerprints behind. The screen doubles and distorts before your eyes, the numbers dancing mockingly out of reach.

You manage to hit the speed dial for Michael—yes, him, not the police, and that little voice in your head is baffled that you continue making such bad decisions. Your voice is a hoarse whisper as you plead, “Please pick up, please pick up, please…” But there's no answer.

Panic claws at your chest. The phone slips from your grasp, clattering to the floor beside you, into a pool of blood and the remaining shards of the vase.

Lilian calls out from the other side of the door, her footsteps hurrying down the stairs.

With a last, desperate surge of strength, you reach out, fingers brushing against the cold floor. “Help,” you croak. Your head pounds. It sounds as though you’re screaming.

The door doesn’t budge. Didn’t she hear you? You press the call button again, desperate, but again, Michael doesn’t pick up. You can’t hold your eyes open much longer. You can’t…

The world spins dizzily around you, the darkness threatening to claim you and drag you toward the light.

You sob, reaching for the throbbing wound in your side. It’s time to accept it for what it is, you figure. Lilian pounds on the door, but the sound is starting to fade as your heartbeat pounds harder and faster against your ribcage and your throat, trying to catch up. You realize it won’t. Not in time. Your heart will grow weak soon.

You’re unsure how long you lie there, floating in a weird middle space between consciousness and a depth you have never been in before. You dip in your toes, but it won’t quite accept you just yet. You want to jump in. You want to learn to swim, even if you have to drown first. The pressure is taking you under. God, you want it to end. It’s too much, and you hate that you can’t do anything.

Denial works until it doesn’t.

The door breaks off its hinges. It couldn’t have been Lilian. You feel a hand on your cheek, and the man it belongs to slaps your skin rather roughly. Your eyes flutter open, weak and sensitive to the light.

The old lady must have alerted your other neighbors. Their voices overlap, grow louder, and then disappear. You can only hear your racing heartbeat in your throat.

Someone applies pressure to your wound, and you cry out. At least you think you do. Your fingers twitch, reaching for the man’s arm. He’s looking at you softly, trying to keep your attention on him, but it’s not him you care about.

Michael.

It comes out as gibberish.

“Save your strength,” your neighbor says. “Help is on the way.”

But you fear that the help he mentioned might not make it on time as your eyes close and you decide to succumb to the darkness. You put up enough of a fight for one day. You’re tired, and so you decide to let your eyelids flutter shut and fall into blissful oblivion.

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky @harperdoodle @ravenclaw617 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocksstarlight @ebathory997

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x f!reader #michael kinsella #kin amc #kin rte #michael kinsella angst #x reader #charlie cox #chaos theory

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bellaxgiornata · 8 months

Text

Whatever You Want

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You've been having a difficult year adjusting to your life in Dublin, struggling with a few things that you've kept hidden from Michael so as not to burden him further. Though when he comes home unexpectedly early from a family meeting, you realize he's been reading you better than you'd thought.

Warnings/Tags: light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, soft Michael

a/n: Just a short little comfort fic to wrap up my Comfort Fic Week! Always love me a soft Mikey. Feedback is always appreciated!

Grabbing one of Michael’s shirts from the laundry basket on the bed next to you, you proceeded to fold it, your eyes staring absently out of the bedroom window beside the bed. The sky was overcast today, gray clouds hanging low despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to rain this morning. Somehow it seemed like the weather was reflecting your mood–or maybe amplifying it.

Hands moving of their own accord, you neatly stacked the now folded shirt on top of the pile of Michael’s other shirts before reaching into the laundry basket and removing another one to fold. Your hands continued to move mechanically as you worked, folding clothing item after clothing item as you removed each one from the basket.

Inevitably your mind began to wander.

Michael had already been gone by the time you'd awoken this morning. He had yet another family meeting to attend early today despite the fact that it was now Sunday. He'd been busy this entire past week taking care of a 'problem' with the family's supplier before spending the rest of the week cleaning up some issues on the business end of things. You’d barely seen him for days now, which wasn’t the usual between the two of you. And although he’d been excited to see you the handful of times you’d both run into each other at home this week, you had been distant.

Admittedly you’d been struggling for this entire past year that you’d officially been living in Dublin. Struggling under the weight of your own family issues that you often kept from Michael–because he already had enough problems to deal with when it came to his family. You’d also been struggling under the pressures of things at work, forced into playing the mediator between the two owners of your company who fought with each other like actual children on a near daily basis. It had been wearing on you for months now, but you yet again never revealed any of this to Michael. He was busy enough as it was, and even though he was nothing but loving and attentive to you when he was home, you knew he had enough on his mind to worry about. So you always greeted him with a smile when you two were together, choosing to shove everything down, down, down until you couldn’t feel it for a bit.

But truthfully? You felt like you were drowning. You missed your family now that you were living abroad in Ireland so you could be with Michael; a feat accomplished with the help of his family–the one good thing they had managed to accomplish for you both when they had fast tracked your visa. But all the health complications back home had you missing your family even more. And you had quickly begun to hate your job with a passion ever since the owners had begun to bicker and fight, leaving you to solve the company's problems. And the office work you were doing wasn't even remotely your dream job, but you knew it wasn't realistic for you to quit just to pursue a dream.

The sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs met your ears, causing your hands to momentarily pause their movements, the shirt partially folded in between them. You could hear the sound of Michael downstairs, opening the closet door and putting away his jacket and shoes. Brows furrowing together, you wondered why he was home so soon.

“Where ya at, love?”

Michael’s voice rang out through the house, the sound of it drowning out the noise in your head–for now. Stacking another shirt of his onto the pile, you turned over your shoulder and called back to him.

“Upstairs, Mikey. Just doing the laundry.”

You grabbed another pair of jeans from the basket, hearing the heavy and tired footfalls of Michael as he made his way up the stairs. As you sorted the pair of pants in your hands with the others, leaning across the bed to reach the pile, you heard Michael making his way across the bedroom before you felt him come up behind you. His arms were soon wrapping around your waist, his nose brushing back and forth against the side of your neck as he let out a pleased hum.

“Missed ya, pet,” he murmured.

Straightening back up, your hands landed on his forearms, giving them a gentle squeeze before you unwrapped them from around you. You felt the way Michael stiffened against the back of you, his face soon drawing away from your neck. Glancing over your shoulder at him, you sent him a brief, tense smile. He took a step back, his eyes narrowing as he studied you.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you back this morning,” you said, turning back towards the bed and reaching a hand into the basket, pulling out another piece of clothing to fold. “The meeting go alright?”

“Yeah, it was grand,” Michael answered distractedly. “Ya alright, love?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed out. “Just trying to catch up on laundry. Figured you’d be gone most of the day. Knew you were low on fresh clothes with how busy you’ve been this week. Thought I’d take care of it for you today.”

“Pet, ya know I could’ve done the laundry myself later today,” he told you.

You neatly stacked yet another one of his shirts onto the pile beside you, nodding as you reached your hand into the basket. You drew out the last piece of clothing, about to fold it, but Michael pulled the pair of pants from your hands.

“Hey, stop,” he said softly, catching your eye. “Is somethin’ wrong? Ya haven’t been acting like yourself all week.”

You bit back the urge to point out that he hadn’t actually seen you much this past week. Instead, you sent him another tense smile.

“I’m fine, Mikey,” you said, gesturing to the pants in his hands. “Now can I finish the laundry? I’ve got other things to take care of today.”

Michael drew the pants out of your reach, his dark brows knitting together. His lips thinned along his face as concern washed over his features.

“What other things have ya got to take care of?” he asked.

You sighed in irritation, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance with how he was slowing down your list of chores and errands for the day. Michael certainly helped out with many things around the house, but usually when the Kinsellas came to him to solve a plethora of problems for them, you were left to pick up the slack. Which is exactly what had happened this week on top of everything else you’d been silently dealing with.

“The house needs to be cleaned, Mikey,” you pointed out. “And the kitchen is an absolute disaster. I haven’t even managed to finish working my way through all of the dishes from the other night when Jimmy and Viking decided to eat every last damned thing in the house. Which also means I need to pick up groceries from the market still, and I haven’t even had a chance to sit down to make the list. Not to mention, I still have another two loads of laundry to take care of, so can you please just let me finish?”

A frown pulled the corners of Michael’s lips down, his hazel eyes softening as they held yours. A second later he expelled a rough breath, his shoulders dropping at the movement. When he tossed the unfolded pair of pants onto the bed, your eyes widened in shock. Your mouth opened, ready to chastise him for being so uncharacteristically callous, but he’d so tenderly grabbed your hands and drew you towards himself that the gesture quickly left you stunned and speechless. All you could do was stare in confusion at him as he drew you into himself.

“Forget ‘bout all o' that today,” he told you. “I’ll handle it tomorrow. All of it, I promise.”

“But don’t you have things you need to do?” you asked.

Michael wrapped his arms around your shoulders, one of his hands gently guiding your head to rest against his chest. Reluctantly you allowed it, though you were tense in his embrace, your body unable to relax. You really needed to get these things done because you didn’t feel like grabbing groceries at the market after work tomorrow.

“I’ll take the day off,” he replied. “Handle everythin’ at home. Even have dinner ready for us when ya finish work. Yeah?”

“Mikey, don’t promise me something that you can’t follow through on,” you warned him. “I know how your family is. I know they’re going to–”

“Hey, shh,” he hushed you, one of his hands soothingly running up and down your back. “I’ll tell ‘em no. Not to bother me tomorrow. Doesn’t matter what they say. Ya deserve some help ‘round here. Been takin’ care of everythin’ this past week–everythin’ this past year, really. And I wanna show ya that I appreciate it, love.”

“It’s not a big deal, I can handle it,” you told him, the lie almost automatic.

You felt him shift above you, resting his cheek against the top of your head. His hand continued to soothingly run the length of your back over and over, the calming feel of it slowly easing the tension in your muscles.

“I can tell ya have been stressed, pet,” Michael murmured. “Can see it on your face. Somethin’s been goin’ on with ya. It has me worried.”

Nervously your tongue slipped out, wetting your lips. You couldn’t believe he’d picked up on anything being off with you. You thought you’d been hiding everything from him so well. And you certainly didn’t need him worrying about you, too.

“I’m fine,” you whispered.

“Don’t lie to me,” Michael said, voice firm but not angry. “I know ya too well, love. I know ya aren’t alright.”

Turning your head, you buried your face into Michael’s chest, breathing in the scent of him. He smelled faintly like his leather jacket and gasoline, probably from riding his motorcycle this morning to the family meeting. Just beneath the scent of both of those you could smell the bit of his soap that always seemed to linger on his skin. It was something with sandalwood–you knew that because the nights he’d be out working a job and not coming home to you, you’d purposely shower with his soap. Just to feel like he was still there in bed with you. You couldn’t fall asleep otherwise.

“Tell ya what,” Michael said, breaking the silence that had fallen. “How ‘bout I take ya for coffee this mornin’? Your favorite shop. Then we can visit that little bookstore ya love so much. The one just on the corner? I’ll buy ya whatever ya want.”

A small smile slipped onto your lips and you reluctantly withdrew your face from where it had been buried against Michael’s chest, his own head withdrawing itself from the top of yours. Looking up at him, he was smiling warmly down at you, his eyes full of affection and love.

“Yeah?” you asked him softly.

“Buy ya the whole damn store if ya want,” he said, tone light and teasing as he grinned back at you. “And ya know I would, love. ‘S’not like I don’t have the money.”

“Okay,” you answered slowly, your attention shifting back to the laundry on the bed. “As long as you really will have time to take care of everything tomorrow though. Because I have to–”

Michael’s hand gently cupping your cheek and turning your face back towards him quickly quieted you. That warm smile was back on his face, the brightness of it reaching his eyes.

“Go get ready,” he ordered. “I’ll finish the rest of this. And the other stuff I’ll do tomorrow. Promise. Forget ‘bout it already, yeah? Just go take a few minutes for yourself.” His smile briefly faltered as he nervously added, “Then maybe afterwards ya can tell me ‘bout what’s been goin’ on? Ya keep lockin’ me out, pet, and I really wish ya would let me in. I want to help.”

“You just–just always have so much going on, Mikey,” you told him softly. “You don’t need my shit, too.”

“Hey,” he said firmly, his eyes narrowing as he lowered his face towards yours. “It isn’t shit, ya hear me? Ya matter to me. More than ya know. Don’t brush yourself off when it comes to me, love, alright? Talk to me. I’m beggin’ ya.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you slowly nodded. “Okay,” you agreed. “Later, I will.”

“Good,” he replied, gesturing his head towards the bathroom as a smile curved his lips upwards. “Now get your adorable arse ready. ‘Cause I wanna spoil my girl today. I’ll take care of the rest o’ the laundry.”

Feeling giddy at the prospect of having a day to spend where it was just you and Michael, grabbing coffee and buying books, you spun on your heel without further encouragement, hurrying your way to the bathroom to get ready.

°•°•°•°•°•°

You hummed out a curious noise, skimming over the summary on the back of the book in your hands for the second time. Behind you, you heard Michael huff out an amused, light laugh. The sound caught your attention and you looked up from the back cover, eyeing Michael’s smiling face curiously from his place beside you. He held up the small stack of books in his hands, gesturing his head towards the one you were still holding.

“Add it to the pile, love,” he urged. “Ya know ya want to. I can see it on your face with the way you’re lookin’ at it.”

Rolling your eyes you held out the book, a grin on your lips as you added it onto the stack Michael was holding. He shot you a flirtatious wink that only had you grinning wider, but when your eyes landed on the clock on the wall behind him, the grin faded. Surprise washed over you instead, a pang of guilt hitting you instantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me we’d been here for over two hours already?” you exclaimed, wide eyes landing back on Michael. “I’m so sorry, Mikey. I didn’t mean to be here so long!”

Michael only laughed, shaking his head back at you. “Pet, I told ya this mornin’ like I told ya over coffee before we came here–take as much time here as ya want. Buy whatever ya want. I’ve seen how much ya have been workin’ your arse off at that office this year. I know ya haven’t been goin’ shoppin’ or out to dinners with your friends as much lately.” Something like guilt spread across his face as he continued. “And I–I know I haven’t been ‘round as much the past few months, what with everythin’ goin’ on with the family. But I wanna change that. Startin’ today. Besides,” he said, suddenly looking a little shy, “I could honestly spend my day watchin’ the way ya wander ‘round in a bookstore. The way your face lights up when ya find a book–" he paused, that shy smile still on his mouth directed at you, "–the only other time ya look like that is when you’re lookin’ at me," he finished softly.

“Because you make me happy,” you told him, the grin returning to your lips.

“I know,” he replied with a nod.

“And coffee also makes me happy,” you added before gesturing a hand at the shelf beside you. “So do books. Best way to relieve stress is with a good book and some coffee.”

Michael chuckled, nodding his head even more as his own smile widened. "Exactly why I suggested gettin' coffee before buyin' books, love."

The corner of his lips twitched before his expression changed to something serious, his lips thinning as he shifted his weight back and forth on his feet, looking like he wanted to say something else. You hadn’t missed the shift in his mood as you curiously eyed him in return, wondering what was now suddenly on his mind.

"How has work been?" he asked carefully. "Ya seem stressed more than usual lately. Been worried 'bout ya."

Expelling a sigh at the topic change, you turned and made your way out of the aisle of books you both were in, searching for another one in particular as you mulled over his question. Michael followed closely behind you, still carrying the stack of your books in his arms as he walked.

"It's been difficult this year," you admitted slowly, eyes scanning the aisles as you looked at the different genre signs hanging above them. "I can't stand it lately, if I'm being honest," you finally confessed. "My bosses literally bicker in every meeting I have with them and I'm always trapped playing their mediator, always left cleaning up the company problems they don’t even deal with." Hands curling into fists at your sides, you could feel your irritation returning at the thought of work tomorrow. "They don't even talk about work most of the time anymore, either. I swear, they're going to run their business into the ground if they keep it up."

"Then quit."

You abruptly stopped in front of the aisle you'd been looking for at his blunt suggestion. Turning swiftly on your heel, you looked back at Michael in confusion and shock.

" Quit ?" you asked him in disbelief.

He shrugged easily. "Yeah," he answered. "Quit. You've always hated it there and now it's upsettin' ya. So quit. 'S'not like ya need the money. Ya know I'll take care of ya."

"Mikey," you said, pulling a face, "I'm not going to just sit at home and be some–" you waved a hand through the air, "–trophy wife. Or–or girlfriend or whatever," you awkwardly added when Michael’s smile grew at your word choice. "I like feeling productive."

"Your choice, love, but I happen to think ya would make a fine trophy wife," he playfully teased, shooting you another wink. "But ya know I've got ya. So quit. Find somethin' ya like. Because I know that's not what you're passionate 'bout."

With a huff you turned, focusing back on the aisle before you. You stepped into it, eyeing the books on the shelves as you looked for one in particular.

"Say it like it's that easy," you muttered, eyes scanning the various titles.

"It is," Michael pressed. "Give 'em your notice tomorrow. Quit. Do what you're passionate about. Because I know you've been dying to do photography instead. And you're damn good at it, love. And I know ya been dyin' to work for yourself.”

Chewing your lip, you let his suggestion settle in your mind. He was right, you did want to do photography. You'd been talking about it since you'd first met him. And you had been dying to work for yourself, especially with how your bosses had been this past year. It would be nice to do something you were actually passionate about, and you did know that Michael would take care of you while you started up the business–he'd already told you he wanted to marry you. He certainly wasn’t planning to go anywhere.

You hummed out a noise, your hand reaching out and pulling the book you'd been looking for off of the shelf. "Alright," you told him, turning around and placing the book on the stack in his hands. "I'll quit tomorrow," you told him. "You're right, photography is my passion. And if you're going to push me–"

"I absolutely insist ya do, love," he cut you off.

"Alright," you repeated, nodding your head. "I'll do it."

Michael's smile grew even wider, the warmth of it reaching his eyes as they fondly gazed back at you. You couldn’t fight the smile on your own face knowing that you’d never get over how lucky you were to have met him–or how handsome he looked when he smiled at you like that.

Eventually Michael's eyes curiously glanced down to the book you'd so quickly placed onto the pile he was carrying. A look of confusion crossed his face, brows drawing together as he looked back up at you.

"One Hundred Years of Solitude?" he asked.

"Yeah," you said, your smile turning cheeky as you made your way out of the aisle and over towards the register. "It's for you. About time you read something that wasn't a Steinbeck, babe."

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #michael kinsella fluff #bellas comfort fic week #kin amc

147 notes · View notes

roguehongsami · 9 hours

Text

Paramour.

pairing/s: ceo!san x fem!assistant

genre/s: smut, au

synopsis: being san's favourite employee comes with endless perks. from lavish gifts to trips around the world, he'll get you whatever you want. but then there's the downside that leave your self-esteem shattered every once in a while, & new year's eve was no different.

content: unprotected sex (condomize), oral sex, semi-public sex, cum eating, fingering, voyeurism, nipple play.

word count: 2.1k

* DISCLAIMER: THIS IS FICTIONAL. IT IS NOT A REPRESENTATION OF CHOI SAN'S CHARACTER, PERSONALITY OR BEHAVIOUR. THIS IS SOLELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. *

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ the weeknd, jennie, lily-rose depp // one of the girls

"San Choi's office, how can I help you?... Mr. Choi's a bit preoccupied right now, can I take a message instead?... Have a good day."

The phone call concluded as she hung up the phone. She put one hand on the desk to support her own weight, the other raking through San's hair. Her head thrown back and mouth fallen to an 'O', she was careful not to be loud. His grip on her thighs unrelenting as he held her in place, face nestled between them.

"That was Wooyoung Jung of Jung Holdings..." she muttered between moans. "The sale went through, they'll bring the contract tomorrow."

He squeezed her thighs to signify that he heard her. His tongue laved every bit of her, slurping her nectar. Lips planting kisses on her bud. The vibrations of his groaning against her core had her tightening her legs around his neck. She slowly let herself go on his tongue, her chest rising and falling as she tried to train her breathing. He got out from beneath her skirt, taking the handkerchief from his desk and wiping his mouth.

"You have a meeting with the director of Kang Enterprises in 30 minutes." she said while buttoning her blouse. "It's at Oasis."

He rose to his feet, fixing his tie and jacket. "We better leave now so we can beat the traffic." he extended out his hand.

She took it, descending from the desk to the floor, "Thank you." she said.

They took their leave, exiting the building and getting into San's private car. The silence filled by clicking on their phones. In the nick of time, they arrived at the lounge where the meeting was hosted. Side by side, her heels clinking against the marble floor, they walked toward the entrance. San led her to an open bar by the general area.

"Stay here. Order whatever you want, just put it on my tab."

While the meeting took place in a confined space where her presence was debarred, she remained at the bar. Already on her second martini in the last hour, the gathering went on far longer than both parties anticipated. As she downed the last of her beverage, the doors opened. All the men exiting, just smiles and laughs while San donned a tight-lipped grin, they exchanged farewells and dispersed. He approached her from behind, his hand gliding over her thigh, startling her a bit.

"That took forever, it's already getting dark out." she said, putting the glass down on the counter.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think it would go on so long. I need you to send our quarterly expense report to Yeosang by tomorrow afternoon." she nodded, taking out her work phone to set a reminder. "Let's get you home."

During the 30-minute drive to her loft that was located on the other side of the city, their conversation was work-related. They snuck glances of one another while the other was not looking. The driver soon arrived at her residence, parking the car right by the entrance. Instructing the driver to wait, he walked her all the way to her door. She fished for her keycard in her handbag. When she found it, she swiped it over the scanner, unlocking the door. As they entered, San studied the pristine interior. She put her handbag down on the kitchen countertop.

"I trust you'll be coming to the New Year's Eve gala this Friday."

Her lips pursed. "If I can make it back from Dublin on time, maybe."

He closed the gap between them, towering over her small frame. "Then you better make it." he whispered.

Always caught in a losing battle between himself and restraint, San could never keep his hands to himself, not around her. Whatever self-abnegation he had would dissipate whenever offered an opportunity to be alone. His hands grabbed her waist, meandering down her body until they found themselves a place behind her thighs. He hoisted her onto the dining table. Fingers playing with the hem of her underwear, he removed them, placing them in the pocket of his slacks. Bucking her hips up, she snaked her legs around his waist. While his lips explored every inch of her neck, before moving to her lips, her hands fiddled with the buckle of his belt.

"Sir!" a voice called out from the door.

San sighed irritably as he halted all actions. "What is it, Arthur?"

"There's an emergency at one of your hotels that requires your immediate attention." Arthur responded.

"You know I hate to do thi–"

"San, go. I'll see you tomorrow before my flight." she pecked him on the lips one last time before dropping her legs to the side.

He planted a kiss on her forehead before leaving her to her solitude. She watched as his back walked away, Arthur closing the door behind him. After a few moments, she took a shower before heading to bed, and calling it a night.

[ . . . ]

The silk robe fell from her shoulders as she reached over the vanity for the body lotion. Squeezing a bit in her hand, spreading it out as she applied it all over her body. The potent smell of cocoa butter spreading to the rest of her bedroom space. The doorbell rung downstairs. She hastily covered herself as she descended down the steps, careful to not miss a step. Through the peephole, there was a deliveryman in uniform on the other side. She opened the door. They exchanged greetings. She signed for her package before he handed her the enormous box.

Her fingers ran over the black branding on the white box, admiring the lettering. She removed the lid, her eyes lit up almost immediately. She took the garment by the straps, bringing it out of its packaging. Holding it over her body while standing before the mirror. The first whiff of the new smell relaxed her. It was arguably the most beautiful gown she had ever owned. It was a champagne-coloured A-line dress made of satin, with a thigh-high slit.

To match the dress, she wore teardrop crystal earrings and an 18-inch princess necklace with matching gemstones. As she clipped on the tennis bracelet, the doorbell intonated. She swiped her clutch from the bed and hurried downstairs. When she answered, there stood San in a black tuxedo. As he soaked in her image, a smile broke out on his face, revealing his dimples.

"Thank you for the dress, Sannie."

"God, you're so breathtaking." He grabbed her by her waist, "I could just take you right here." he opined.

He led her out of the building and into the car, opening the door for her then circling to the other side where Arthur awaited him. Arthur closed the door and took his place behind the wheel. While San spoke on the phone, she studied his face, his perfectly sculpted face. She leaned into him, pressing her lips to the edge of his own as he spoke. Her hand caressed his hard chest, travelling down his torso, then palming him. His words drowned in his throat at the feel of her hand. He quickly regained his composure as she massaged his clothed crotch. The phone call concluded.

With his hand on her neck, he said. "You're a really naughty girl, you know that?"

"That's why you love me." she grinned, biting on her lip.

"More than anyone I've ever known."

His lips pressed onto hers, his tongue explored every crevice of her mouth. Hand gliding from her waist, slithering past the slit and into her underwear. Gently rubbing her throbbing bud, he trailed wet kisses over her neck, groaning against her skin. As she grew increasingly wet, he slotted two fingers inside of her. Breath hitched. When she opened her eyes, she caught Arthur's gaze in the rearview mirror.

"The partition..." she said, breathlessly.

"I'm sure Arthur appreciates the show." he nipped at her shoulder, then leaned into her ear, "Now sing for us." he dictated.

He slid in another finger, stretching her out. Her nails dug into the leather of the seats, head thrown back as she mewled away. The air in the car was hot, heavy. Listening to his tenor voice sing sweet nothings into her ear, driving her closer to her release. When he felt her grow tighter, he pumped his fingers faster until she unravelled. Descending from the ecstasy, she caught his lips while her hand begun undoing the zipper of his pants. He stopped her.

"We're here." he chuckled at her enthusiam but she complained. "You can make it up to me on our trip to Seychelles tomorrow, but right now, we need to go."

San instructed Arthur to find a parking spot for the night as they exited the vehicle. They entered the ballroom where all the attendees of different corporations were present. With every person that came their way, he introduced her as his assistant, which was true, but she resented being assigned only that title. They exchanged contact details, and went their separate ways. When Wooyoung and his assistant, Shannon, approached them, they stood in pairs as they spoke amongst themselves.

"San's your boss?" Shannon whispered, not wanting the topic of the conversation to hear from a mere inches away, but he did. "God, he's so fucking hot. You're so lucky."

"Careful, he can be a gaping asshole sometimes." she jokingly remarked, eliciting a pretentious scoff from her superior.

As the night progressed, the festivities grew increasingly prosaic for her liking. Most of the night was spent networking on San's behalf, while he, Wooyoung and Yeosang drank and laughed the night away. Downing the rest of the champagne, she set the glass down on the countertop. There was 15 minutes until the clock struck midnight, and the fireworks display would begin to welcome the New Year. She abandoned her station and headed for the elevator, taking another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

The elevator doors opened. She stepped out and wandered down the hallway until she found an empty room to rest. She kept the room dark, standing outside by the balcony, finishing the rest of her beverage. The crisp wind brushed past her skin, lulling her nerves and bringing her mind to an absolute stand still. Allowing herself to absorb and admire the cityscape, San came in and locked the door. He stood behind her, hands gripping onto her figure, resting his head on her shoulder. Holding his hands as she melted into his arms.

"'A gaping asshole' you say?" his tone low.

She couldn't help the subtle laugh she unleashed. "Have I ever been wrong?"

He kissed her neck, her shoulder, all while undoing the straps of her dress. The material fell to her waist, revealing her breasts. The feel of the frigid breeze prompted her nipples to stand at attention. His hands played with them as his left soft pecks on her skin. She held his hands as she guided his every move. Barely containing herself, her soft cries left her mouth. His hand ventured into her underwear, only to find that she had already been drenched in her own arousal. He took the leg exposed through the slit from behind, placing it over the railing. A swift breeze brushed past her near-exposed core, making her yelp. He brought down his pants enough to draw out his already-erect member.

Lifting the dress up and moving her underwear to the side, he slipped the tip in, with every inch he buried inside her, she was stuffed. Stretched to capacity. Regardless of all the times they had done it, she could never quite adjust to his leviathan size. His thrusts were gentle and steady. With one hand on her neck, the other toying with her sensitive nub, he pounded into her litherly. Far from prying eyes and desperate ears, she allowed herself to be completely vocal. Every cry, met with a satisfied groan from San.

"Who's my favourite girl?" he grunted into her ear.

"I am." she croaked out.

"Promise you'll never leave me?"

"I'm yours forever, San."

He picked up his speed, grinding into her at full force. Every hit grazing her cervix, tip brushing past her g-spot. His arm wrapped around her waist for a better grip. Slowly encroaching was her climax, the knot in her stomach growing tighter with each thrust. His body began to tense up, face buried in the crook of her shoulder. His tell. Hips moving irrhythmically as he snapped against her skin. Finally, the coil in her stomach came undone as her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave. He stilled deep inside her as his load sprayed out in large quantities. They stayed in their position for a few minutes while he slowly thrusted everything back inside her. He pulled out. Pulling his pants back up as she tied the straps of her dress.

The fireworks display begun, with a myriad of colours embellishing the empty canvas that was the midnight sky. Smoke lingered in the air with sounds of explosions occupying the atmosphere.

Reeling her in by the waist, the space between them shrunk, "Happy New Year's, love." he chimed with a loving tone.

Arms thrown over his shoulders, "Happy New Year's, Sannie." she said with much love in her eyes.

They shared a passionate kiss. It was truly the makings of a movie, a dream, as the fireworks went off behind them. They parted and made their way out of the room, heading to the ballroom on the ground floor. Exiting the elevator, they walked down the hallway. They stood in the doorway for a few minutes before San had to walk away. He meandered through the sea of bodies. It was too loud to hear anything. He and another woman exchanged a few words, leading her to the middle of the dance floor. There was no appropriate way to react as she would risk exposing their relationship.

So she watched as San danced the night away with his wife.

#ateez #choi san #san smut

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 1 month

Text

Revisiting information from Tom Bower's book Revenge and current events in the House of Windsor.

Misan Harriman: All Roads lead back, to Soho House & the person Rachel described as her "gay husband," Markus Anderson.

Anglo-Nigerian photographer, Misan Harriman, was instrumental in Meghan’s 2014 post-Trevor re-brand from Deal or No Deal Briefcase Girl to faux philanthropist/humanitarian.

Allegedly he's also gay, along with the other "boys" in MEgain's Soho House Circle. All in "contract" marriages with female "beards" like Rachel Meghan Markle. All liars.

According to Tom Bower's research (Revenge p. 63), Meghan was determined to use One Young World as her launching pad to celebrity philanthropy.

She was unknown to the OYW founders and event staff so she contacted Misan Harriman to ask for an introduction to his friend, tennis star, Boris Becker.

Becker was already scheduled to speak at the Dublin conference and Misan pitched the idea of Meghan's participation.

Becker referred Meghan to HIS AGENT, Gina Nelthorpe-Cowne.

If I remember correctly, in Gina's pre-wedding articles and interviews, she mentioned that Meghan contacted her office in 2014 to express an interest in helping with the OYW conference(s). I had no idea that Meghan and Misan were friendly while Meghan cohabitated with Celebrity Chef Cory.

MEgain did not choose Misan for her engagement photographs. Misan has only been in the photography business for five (5) years.

Soho House members, the York Sisters, invited Misan to capture the moment Edo proposed to Beatrice. (sigh & smh) SAME Eugenie who told the press, "we really like her..." when someone (OMIT & Jessica) gave Camilla Tominey permission to publicize their affair. Camilla repeatedly writes that William MUST forgive Sparry. Tominey cares nothing for the Wales family or the country. Her interests are rooted in greed and irresponsible reporting to sell papers.

Notice The Meghans began paying Misan during MEGXIT. He captured the stills and video footage for Megflix. He is also paid by Invictus. There's a lot of cash flowing into Misan's bank account via The Meghan and their archeficicial business ventures. IRS, where you at???? 🤔

I'm not sure why I included the following in my original 2022 post: "Allegedly, during Harry's 2 nights in Tornto (babysat by Jason Knauf), just before he flew to the US-FL IG, Meghan (while cohabitating w/Cory & just back from spending Mother's Day weekend w/Cory's parents) Meghan told Harry about her interest in helping him with the Invictus Games."

One thing that stands out to me is how much both Meghans lied during the engagement interview:

Sparry & MEgain admitted (on international television) that they were secretly dating for 5-6 months BEFORE Tominey received the story.

Do the math. If they met in July of 2016 and had 5-6 months together in secret, Camilla's article would have been published in December or January, not October/November.

Camilla's article was published at the time of their Toronto (soho house) Halloween party with Eugenie and Jack Brooksbank: October 2016 = only 3 dating months.

If they began dating during Sparry's Spring promotional visit to Toronto for Ingriftus, then YES--- they were "together" (like spooning bananas) for five (5) months before MEgain leaked the details to Tominey

Sparry is just as much of a compulsive liar as his wife. He lies about the unnecessary details:

"we had to announce your megnantcy for the tour because you were showing..."

"It's true, you did blend in-----‐until our farewell week..."

I have future content coming about Victoria Hervey and Dan Wootton's despicable behavior during kategate. At the moment I wish she would stop extending open invitations for Sparry "to come home," when he's repeatedly been clear that America is his home & America is where he feels safe.

In my opinion, Sparry and MEgain deserve to be married to one another FOREVER!! Initially I viewed Sparry as her victim but just because Sparry is mentally & emotionally unstable and intellectually "sub-educational" (as Lady C would say), does not excuse his character issues: lying, cheating, stealing, grifting to achieve fame and fortune in America. People all over the world with low IQs know the difference between right and wrong. There is no excuse for Sparry's crimes.

Royal Families cannot expect their people to look past bad behavior. Charles got what he wanted, "Camilla." Despite the good press she receives, the majority of the world sees Charles as spoiled and feckless. I do think he will be surprised to learn just how many Brits wish he & Camilla would just go on a permanent holiday.

In a world of meritocracy, we have watched Meghan Markle, Sparry, and Andrew get away with murder. Zero on the job consequences for bad behavior------>Out of touch with everyday people.

Andrew & Sparry have caused permanent damage to brand BRF. When Charles chooses tone deafness over humility and shame, they are begging the people for a Republic.

Normal people pay a price for their unwise decisions. Selfish Charles chose Jesus' resurrection day to rub Andrew into the faces of the British people and global royal watchers.

People won't take these moments of pure contempt for the will and opinions of the people and just let it all go due to cancer. Charles is still seen as a feckless king who will ultimately destroy this monarchy because it appears he cannot or will not manage his household.

Go to church Andrew & Fergie, but not in front of the cameras and not at the expense of the taxpayers. These are not difficult situations for Buckingham Palace. Does anyone have a working brain? It's as if Charles is deliberately destroying everything his mother & father worked so hard to preserve.

I agree @sassyfrassboss and don't get me started on Sarah's health related virtue signals. Why is it so difficult for Fergie to stop talking? And why won't Andrew go away and live out a solitary life? No one wants to shake hands with Epstein's pal. No charity wants to be represented by Epstein's pal. Consequences.

Andrew is reviled and despised because he refuses to accept responsibility for his unwise choices. He has no remorse for choosing "sleazy e & co" over his family and his country. It's not complicated.

I have drafts of future content about the York's. Surmise it to say, Andrew and Sarah are just not bright people. What's worse is they are selfish and refuse to step out of the limelight to give their daughters & grandkids a fresh start.

Unfortunately, like The Meghans, Eugenie was willing to exploit the identities of other people's children while concealing the face of her own child with stickers.

Ultimately Eugenie used the Jubilee to change course. She finally held up the child to show his face. Cute child. What's not cute is the elitist mindset that "blue blood makes us extra special."

After visiting Davos, Eugenie was quick to parrot her elitist, WEF talking points. There was no critical thinking about the issue(s) (like, "hmm, my husband wears glasses"), just a regurgitation of elitist talking points.

No one wants to see Andrew on Easter Sunday or for that matter at any other holiday. Seeing him jolly on parade is a slap in the face to all who had a deep affection for Queen Elizabeth's virtues and basic human decency. It's past time for him to retire from public life.

Rolling up to Easter service as though the York's are respectable members of society who serve Jesus Christ is absolutely shameful.

Not because of a liar named Virginia and her fake photo, but because of Andrew's REAL Central Park, NYC photos and the video footage of Andrew coming and going from Epstein's NYC home. Not to mention their big Epstein dinner with guests like Katie Couric, George Stephanopoulos and Woody Allen---- to name just a few.

Andrew used tax payer's money to travel in support of Jeffrey Epstein upon his release from prison.

A man who was convicted of sexually assaulting under age girls served about 12 months in prison and upon release he threw a NYC party for his royal pal Andrew! The Palace was "too honorable" to reply, "No thank you. Have a nice life." Andrew seems too self centered to concern himself with the commandments to "avoid even the appearance of evil" and to "honor" his mother & father's legacies.

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