Aug 26
CHARLIE????
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CHARLIE????
First Thing in the Morning
Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.2k
Warnings/Tags: 18+; nothing but soft and smutty Michael in the morning
Summary: Michael wakes you up with one thing clearly on his mind.
a/n: This is literally just smut and I think for once I managed to keep the plot out of things! Also Reader doesn't have my attempt at an Irish accent in this one. Feedback is always appreciated!
Michael Kinsella one shot tag list: @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @shiorimakibawrites @wkndwlff @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @sunflower-tia @kezibear
You felt your mind sluggishly waking, pulling you from the deep sleep you’d been peacefully enjoying after your previous late night, drawing you back to consciousness. Very slowly you felt your body following along after, a faint, muffled groan vibrating in the back of your throat as you stirred awake.
With your eyes still closed, it took your brain a moment to process your surroundings, everything coming to you one at a time. The soft early morning bird call outside the bedroom window, the warmth of the blankets you were snuggly tucked beneath, and the large hand snaking its way down the length of your bare thigh.
“Mmm,” you hummed out, stirring further awake.
Behind you, you felt the bed shift as Mikey scooted closer to you on the mattress. His lips were on your bare shoulder the second he settled, placing a lingering kiss there as your eyelids gradually fluttered open. Sunlight was trickling in through the curtains, swathing the room in a gentle, golden glow. You couldn't help the tired smile that grew on your lips when Michael's mouth pulled away from your skin, the warm caress of his breath dancing down your exposed back.
Michael was often affectionate like this first thing in the morning, especially when neither of you had anywhere to be. Morning cuddles with him were some of your favorite moments, always making it so difficult for you to finally leave the bed and start your day. Many times you'd contemplated never leaving it, either, and just keeping him all to yourself wrapped up in the cozy sheets.
“G'mornin’, love,” he murmured against your bare shoulder.
The tinge of sleep coating his voice had a pleasant tingle racing up your spine. You knew that tone of voice though, especially with the way his hand was currently kneading at the muscle of your thigh.
“Morning, Mikey,” you croaked back, still partially awake yourself. “Been up long?”
“No,” he answered, his mouth moving just a bit before it brushed another light kiss over your shoulder. “But long enough.”
His hand slid to the inside of your thigh, sensually gliding its way upwards until you felt the faintest brush of the back of his fingers against your clothed center. Your back arched involuntarily at his touch as his hand continued to massage the muscle beneath it, his nose running back and forth in a line along the length of your shoulder now, his beard lightly tickling you. Your eyes fell shut again, a soft, contented sigh spilling out of you.
“How'd ya sleep, pet,” he murmured.
“Good,” you answered, focused on the feel of his hand once more on the move. “You?”
“Mmm, grand,” he purred, his hand running back down your thigh. “Woke up with ya on my mind though.”
You giggled softly into your pillow, Michael's hand dragging deliciously back up to your hip where he began leisurely kneading it. Goosebumps dotted the flesh along your arms, your body growing even further awake under his attentive touches.
“I can see that, Mikey,” you told him.
His hand gripped your hip tight before you felt shifting along the bed again. He'd drawn his hips all the way forward, pressing the front of his body against the back of yours. There was an unmistakable bulge now wedged between your ass, your heart rate spiking at the feel of it. Still holding your hips in place with his hand, you felt him grind himself against your ass with a soft, pleased hum. Your cunt immediately stirred awake next at the sound.
“D'ya see what ya do to me, pet?” he whispered, grinding his cock into your ass again. “Ya drive me fuckin’ mad for ya. Got me wantin’ ya first thing in the mornin’.”
Bottom lip rolling between your teeth, a shudder raced down your body at his raspy morning voice filled with heat and desire. You felt his hand moving again, this time gliding its way over your stomach and slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. His hand continued its ascent upwards until his palm cupped an entire mound of your breast. He gave it a gentle but firm squeeze and dampness began to form between your thighs, your blood immediately rushing southward.
“Fuck, Mikey,” you breathed.
An amused breath brushed over your ear, his mouth now hovering beside it. “I can if ya like, love,” he whispered. “Was kinda hopin’ for that this mornin’.”
You tried to shift in his arms towards him, desperate to run your hands along his bare chest and back, but the strong arm he had wrapped around you tightened, holding you in place as he continued to massage your breast. A frustrated groan left you before his fingers found your nipple, gently tugging at the quickly stiffening peak.
“ Michael ,” you complained, struggling against his hold. “Come on.”
His lips grazed the shell of your ear as he chuckled lightly beside it. His warm breath fell down the back of your neck, the feel of it raising the hair there.
“Relax, let me just appreciate ya for a minute, love. Always in such a rush,” he teased.
His tongue delicately swiped along the length of your ear next and your eyes snapped shut instantly. Moments later his plush lips sucked your earlobe between them, the heat of his mouth causing your thighs to clamp together, your ass pressing back into his erection as your need for him began to rise.
“Because this isn’t fair,” you shot back, a little breathless. “Maybe I want to touch you, too.”
He hummed in acknowledgement of what you'd said, your earlobe still between his lips. The pleasant vibration had you intentionally grinding back against him again, hoping that would help you change his mind so you could roll over and touch him in return. The way his fingers were deftly toying with your nipple beneath your shirt wasn't helping, either. Then gradually his mouth released your earlobe, his lips grazing your ear with each word when he whispered into it next.
“Let me just touch ya first,” he began, “then I'll let ya do whatever ya want with me.”
His words sent a thrill straight to your cunt. You knew damn well there was nothing more you wanted right now than to climb atop him and ride him until he came undone beneath you. The thought of that only had you growing wetter; you loved watching the sheer look of pleasure written on his face as he lay beneath you while you fucked him.
Michael's lips began placing delicate kisses along your neck, just below your jawline, and that quickly pulled you from the tantalizing mental image in your mind. His hand shifted beneath your shirt, coming to cup your other breast in his palm as you craned your neck, giving his mouth better access to it. The light scratch of his beard along your skin as he began trailing open-mouthed kisses against you had your hands fisting the sheets before you.
“ Michael ,” you moaned.
His teeth very subtly nipped at a sensitive bit of flesh and you couldn't fight back the resounding gasp that fell from your lips. You could feel Michael's own mouth draw into a smile against you before he nuzzled his face into your neck, his index finger carefully circling your nipple beneath your shirt.
“D'ya like that?” he whispered, his other hand landing on your thigh and beginning to massage it again. “D'ya like it when I touch ya, pet?”
You nodded eagerly along the pillow, your cunt begging for attention as your hips squirmed along the mattress. Michael ground his cock into your ass again at the movement, a low groan coming from him. Your breath hitched at the sound, your ignored cunt practically aching with need now. His front was still flush to the back of you, your body feeling like it was on fire everywhere he was pressed against you.
Almost as if he already knew what you needed, his hand made a direct path up your thigh and all the way over until he cupped your core in his palm. A high-pitched, needy whine came from you at the touch, your hips giving a brief jolt before they eagerly pressed back into his hand.
“Already soaked your panties and I've barely even touched ya,” Michael murmured in satisfaction, his palm beginning to rub against your center. “Ya need me that bad already d'ya?”
“Yes, yes,” you begged, not even embarrassed that you were grinding yourself against his palm. “I want you, Mikey. Let me show you how much.”
A deep growl rumbled out of his chest, the noise beside your ear sending a shiver through you. You fought back a smile at the sound though; you knew you were close to getting your way with him now.
“ Fuck ,” he cursed. “The things ya do to me, pet.”
A sly grin crossed your lips as you glanced back over your shoulder at him behind you. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his eyes half-lidded as they met yours.
“Let me show you some of the things I can do to you,” you whispered coyly.
You watched as his own eyes snapped shut at your words, something like a wince tugging at his features. You had him now.
“Let me take care of you, Mikey,” you continued, squirming in his hold. “You've had a rough week and you’re leaving tomorrow. So let me make you feel better. Let me take care of you this morning.”
His eyes opened, once again meeting yours. He hesitated for a minute, his finger still circling your nipple, and then ever so slowly you felt his arm loosen its hold around you. Not wasting the opportunity, you quickly rolled over on the bed to face him, a triumphant smile on your face as his hand slid over your hip and landed on your ass, the other still inside your shirt grabbing at your breast.
“My turn now, yeah?” you asked.
He drowsily grinned back at you, the sight somehow only working you up further. Without a thought you lunged forward, connecting your mouths in a hungry, needy kiss. Your hand slid its way down his side until it reached the waistband of his boxers. Breaking away from his mouth, your breath coming in sharper, you tugged at the elastic of them.
“I don't think we're going to need these, Mikey,” you whispered. “Take them off for me.”
Michael's hand slipped out of your shirt, both of his hands obliging your demand and beginning to pull his boxers off beneath the sheets. While he did, you quickly slid your own damp underwear off, drawing them down your legs before tossing them out of the sheets and over the side of the bed. When you focused back on Michael, he was grinning again and tugging at your shirt.
“Don't think ya need this either, love,” he teased.
Throwing a leg over his hips, your hands grabbed onto both of his shoulders before you pushed against him. Taking the hint, Michael allowed you to roll him onto his back while you mounted him, straddling his hips. Smiling coyly down at him, your hands released his shoulders long enough to grab the hem of your shirt and pull it up and over your head. You tossed your shirt over the side of the bed before placing your hands back onto his chest.
“Better?” you asked him.
Running your hands through the thick, dark hair of his chest, you saw him lazily smile up at you. He hummed out an affirmative response as you began to lower yourself down onto him, positioning your cunt more directly onto his cock. His eyelids lowered as a satisfied moan flew from his throat.
“Hell, pet,” he groaned, his hands gripping tight to your hips and encouraging you to grind back and forth along the length of him. “So damn wet in the mornin’, aren't ya? Feel so good already and I'm not even inside o’ ya.”
Biting your lip, you could feel the throbbing desire of your cunt at his praise already. As much as you wanted to drag things out, you knew you wouldn't be able to resist much longer. More slick was seeping out of your center, coating the underside of his cock as you continued to grind yourself back and forth along him.
Both of his hands made their way upwards from your hips, fingers delicately gliding up over your ribcage before his hands palmed your breasts once more. He began massaging them, kneading them tenderly in his hands. After a moment he paused, teasingly running the calloused pads of both of his thumbs over both of your nipples simultaneously. Your hips stuttered along him for a second and he gazed up at you smugly from beneath you.
“Someone's reactive this mornin’” he playfully teased, repeating the gesture with his thumbs.
“You know,” you told him a little breathlessly, fighting not to let your eyelids drop closed under the touch, “I don't think you're the one in the position to be doing the teasing here.”
He arched a dark brow at you, the corner of his lip tugging upwards. “Sure ‘bout that, love?” he asked.
Eyes narrowing at his challenge, you began to drag your nails down his chest. He hissed out a pleased noise between his teeth, his head partially rolling back along the pillow. You grinned back at him in satisfaction as your hand continued its way down his torso and towards his cock. Shifting your body out of the way, you grabbed onto the base of him and gave him a few languid pumps, reveling in the way his eyelids fluttered before you ran the head of him between your damp folds.
“Like I said,” you whispered, “I'm the one taking care of you this morning. Stop getting coy with me, Michael.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but you lined up his cock with your entrance and then sunk the tip of him inside of you before he had the chance. Instead of words, you heard him groan something incoherent that had your entire body pleasantly tingling at the sound. Both hands splayed wide over his chest once more, fingers curled into the dark hair there that you loved so much, you braced yourself as you began to gradually lower yourself fully onto him. Both of you simultaneously released noises of pleasure into the bedroom as you did, the girth of him filling you entirely as you finally took him all the way.
“ Fuck I missed you, Mikey,” you whispered.
Michael's large hands slid around to your back, blunt nails digging into your skin. “I missed ya, too, pet,” he murmured back. “Always do. Always need ya.”
Beginning to move against him, you held his gaze. “Going to be thinking about me while you're out on that job?” you asked. “Will you be missing me then?”
“‘M always wishin’ ya were with me,” he whispered back, his hands tenderly smoothing over your back as you began to fuck him. “Always miss ya when– shit, love –”
The particularly hard roll of your hips forward into him cut him off, his hands halting their loving movements as his fingernails once more dug further into your back. Picking up your pace, you began to bounce along him a little quicker, your hips repeatedly rolling into him over and over as Michael lay beneath you, his face twisted into a look of sheer ecstasy.
“Always know what you're doin’,” he grunted out, breath coming in heavier. “Know me too damn well.”
Your hands slid up the expanse of Michael's chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath them as they moved. Eventually they made their way back to his broad shoulders, gripping them firmly in your hold. Michael’s half-lidded eyes were currently roving their way over your naked body atop him, his teeth gnawing on his own lip as his ragged and panting breaths filled the room. He looked so perfect like that beneath you, just letting you ride him until you both got off.
The urge to have more of him hit you hard and fast. Leaning down towards him, you saw Michael’s eyes fly up to meet yours at the movement. As if wanting the same thing, his own head eagerly rose from the pillow, his mouth meeting yours half-way. The kiss was sloppy and full of heat–all wet tongue and muffled groans of pleasure. His hands slid across your back as he kissed you until both of his arms had wrapped around you, your hips beginning to roll more frantically into his own.
And then his strong arms sharply tugged your body down towards himself, crushing you to him as his mouth swallowed the gasp of surprise that had flown out of you. His arms held you firm to the front of himself, his own hips beginning to buck up into yours and attempting to match your pace. When his cock hit just the right spot deep inside, your mouth released his, a loud moan flying out of you as your eyes briefly rolled back.
“Just like that, pet,” Michael ground out between clenched teeth, your sweat-dampened forehead dropping to rest against his. “Keep fuckin’ me just like ya are. Feel so fuckin’ perfect.”
Encouraged by his words, your nails bit firmly into his shoulders as you felt your own climax quickly approaching. You could feel he was already growing close to his own release with the sudden desperation apparent in his own movements as his hips fucked up into you.
“I need you to cum for me, Mikey,” you panted out, forehead still pressed to his. “Can you do that for me?”
He loosed a low moan in response that had your cunt tightening around his cock. Shifting atop him, you lowered your mouth beside his ear, nuzzling your nose against his temple as you whispered into it.
“I can tell you’re close,” you purred, breath ragged as you spoke. “Come on baby,” you urged, “fill me.”
“Fuckin’ hell, love, I’m–”
His hips stuttered beneath you, his eyes pinching shut. And then you felt the hot release of him inside of you a few thrusts later, the sound of his pleasured groan loud in the bedroom. The sound of it had your back arching along him, your cunt squeezing around him repeatedly. And then you were falling over the edge of your own release, moaning his name out soon after as your hips unsteadily continued to fuck the pair of you through each of your climaxes.
Gradually you felt yourself coming down moments later, your hips slowly stopping their movements along him. Michael’s head sluggishly rolled along the pillow towards yours as your body collapsed atop his, his cock slowly beginning to soften inside of you. His hands began running soothing patterns along your back as he smiled at you. You sent him a blissful, sleepy smile in return.
“Well g’mornin to you, love,” he said, a glint in his eye.
You bit your lip, giggling as your chest still heaved against his from the morning’s exertion. “Good morning indeed,” you whispered back.
Day 7 - Sundress
Day 7 - Sundress Prompt: 7: Nothing Underneath Character: Michael Kinsella Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Word Count: 715 Warnings: Referenced oral sex (f receiving), referenced p in v sex, referenced phone sex, fingering, clothed sex, horny thoughts, dirty talk, glimpse of Dom! Mikey Taglist: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @lulukings92, @yarrystyleeza, @bluerobin35, @bellaxgiornata, @shouldbestudying41 Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist
Sundress
You were considering what to wear today. The weatherman had predicted a hot day with no rain. Something of a rarity in Ireland. Maybe you should wear your sundress? You hadn’t gotten the chance yet. Summers here just weren’t as hot as back home. Which was a shame. It was a nice dress with a cute floral print. You looked good in it . . .
And your boyfriend was due back today. Maybe it was fate then, that today was sundress weather. You could wear your pretty dress. See if Michael appreciated the way it looked on you as much as you did. And if he liked it just as much decorating the bedroom floor . . .
You hoped so. Michael had been gone for two weeks. Fourteen days since he had last kissed you. Since those big warm hands had touched you. Since you last heard that little moan he always made when he was fully sheathed inside you . . .
You shuddered, feeling the familiar rush of heat at the memory.
It really had been too long. Those spicy phone calls you had shared had helped. You had enjoyed them immensely. But as pleasurable as they were . . . it just wasn’t the same as having Michael home. You missed having his body against yours, under your hands. You missed his scent - a combination of old paper, leather, good Irish whiskey, and something that you could only describe as Michael - in your nose. The phone didn’t quite capture the experience of hearing his brogue thicken in your ear or could capture all of those soft sounds of pleasure he made . . .
The mind-blowing sex wasn’t the only reason that you missed Michael. Far from it. You always preferred it when he was here, safe and happy in the home you shared. The home you were creating together.
But there was no escaping that you were feeling rather feral this morning. Almost overwhelmed with need. You needed him to fuck you. With his tongue, his fingers, or his cock didn’t matter. Where didn’t matter. You just needed him.
Not even home yet and your panties were already soaked. After you take the edge off, you should change into fresh ones . . . Then an idea came to you. A wicked idea. But one that was likely to make your boyfriend just as feral as you . . .
&&
Your plan was complete success.
Michael loved your dress. You could see it in the way he looked you up and down, how his eyes lingered on your curves. In how eager he was to kiss you. An eagerness that turned heated when his hands gripped your hips and the thin cotton of the dress revealed your real surprise for him.
“No knickers, pet?” he rumbled into your neck.
“None,” you said and gasped when a hand snaked under that dress to touch your eager cunt. A low moan rumbled out of his chest like a roll of thunder. Deep, resonate, something you felt as much as you heard.
“Yer soaked,” he said, the hand still in your hip tightening. “All this for me?”
“All for you,” you confirmed. “Thought about you when I - ahh!”
Your cunt clenched around the finger slidding inside you. It felt so good. His fingers were thicker and longer than yours . . . the pressure of his thumb against your clit had you letting out a warbling moan.
“When ya what, pet?” Michael murmured, curling his finger and making those flashes of white dance across your vision. “Were ya were touching yourself?”
“Y-yes,” you managed to pant out, hands digging to his shoulder.
He made a thoughtful hum, working in second finger into you. “Imagin’ something like this pet? On my knees eatin’ ya out? Fuckin’ ya into this wall until ya come screamin’ on my cock?”
Another warbling moan was your only answer but apparently not satisfactory. His thumb halted its movements on your clit, stalling your building orgasm right in its tracks. “Answer me, pet. Which do ya do want?”
Michael emphasized that by curling those fingers buried inside you, pressing into that spot inside you. You moaned, squirming against him but his body kept your pinned against the wall. “Tell me.”
“All of it!” You cried out.
You felt his smirk against your neck. “All of it? Well, then, I best get started then.”
Finding You||Chapter 7
Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, and lots of fluff.
A/N: Enjoy this chapter, you guys. Comments and reblogs are always welcomed, greatly advised and strongly appreciate.
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Dividers by @cafekitsune
The place was bustling with people. The waiters crossed paths as they brought orders to the different tables. While people chattered and laughed, around drinks and foods. You rubbed your hands nervously on your thighs. Michael was sitting across from you, his chin in the palm of his hand, a small smile on his lips, making that small dimple on his right cheek visible.
You felt nervous, sitting there, in front of him. It had been a long time since you last had been on a date. If ever truly. You had been taken out by men before but it never went really far. It had never really felt right. No sparks. No chemistry. With Michael, however, things seemed to be much more different. You didn’t know how to explain it, you weren’t sure if it was due to chemistry. Or simply because you were still thinking about the make out session, you both had that same morning. The sexual tension between you was rising by the minute, overwhelming. Only increasing your desire further.
You brought your pint to your lips, the foam sticking to your upper lip once you had a sip. You wiped it off quickly with a small laugh.
“So—did you know about that bar before tonight?” You questioned him.
Michael looked around him quickly, letting out a sigh. “This bar is fairly new, never been here before,” his eyes were back on you. “You?”
“Once,” you nodded. “With some coworkers. It was nice. I just—don’t really go out.”
“Ah,” Michael nodded. “No one had caught yer fancy, then?”
You snorted, “not really. Although, I met this guy recently.”
“Ya have?”
“He’s quite handsome,” you nodded with a smile. “And he also happened to be my neighbor.” He chuckled, his eyes staring at you with an intense fondness. “What about you? Has anyone caught your fancy?”
“Well, I met this beautiful woman,” he teased. You looked away quickly, scrunching up your nose, flustered by the compliment. “Happened to be a really good neighbor, too.”
You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. Your eyes dropped to your pint. Both of you had been less awkward around each other, less anxious.
You both had walked to the bar together. You had been worried that those close to Caolan Moore would want revenge for his death. That they would come after Michael. Which the latter had confirmed. They eventually would, he said. But the bounty Eamon Cunnigham had put on his head, was fairly new. And the word had not widely spread yet. Plus, he assured you that no one was tailing him. He had made sure of it before he came to get you.
You had noticed the vest under his sweater. Or the way he chose the booth near the back exit in case you needed to run. You noticed the way; he sat facing the door to make sure he had a full view in case of trouble.
“How long have ya been in Dublin?” Michael’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.
“Almost eight months,” you nodded. “I needed a fresh start; you know. Away from family. Funny how that turned out.”
“Why did ya want to get away from yer family?” Michael asked you.
“I didn’t get a say in many things regarding my own life growing up,” you started to explain. “It was always the others first, and I always came last. As an afterthought, almost. A lot of choices, responsibilities were put on me,” your fingers tapped against your glass, nervously. You brought your gaze up to his. “Moving across the pond is my choice. No one put it on me, I got to choose this time. It feels like—”
“Ya have control back,” he finished for you.
“Yeah,” you nodded. “That,” you scoffed. “It feels a little daunting at times. But I'm getting the hang of it, I hope.”
“Yeah, I see what ya mean,” Michael exhaled deeply.
“I suppose you do,” you agreed. “I don’t think this is the life you would have chosen for yourself if you could.”
His lips pulled down into a frown. He shifted on his chair, slightly, “No, honestly—I—I don’t know.”
Sensing his discomfort, you bravely reached for his hand. Interlacing your fingers with his, you offered him a small smile, “well, I’m glad some of our choices led us here. Tonight.”
“Yeah, me too,” he offered you a small smile in return.
Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, his eyes dropped to your lips at the gesture. The memory of your kissing still fresh in your mind. You had not stopped thinking about it since that morning. Or even since the beginning of your date. And the intensity of his gaze did nothing to stop those thoughts from flooding your mind.
You wanted to do more than just kissing him. The growing desire in the pit of your stomach kept on growing. Burning in such a way, it had not before. You were craving for his touch, for his lips to meet yours. In every way.
Properly turned on, you brought your pint to your lips, once again. Drinking the last drops of your beer.
“Do ya wanna another one?” Michael asked you.
You shook your head, “I think I’m ready to go home. If you are.”
Something flickered across his face, some emotions that passed so quickly, you barely had a chance to catch the change.
He cleared his throat, “If this is what ya want, yeah?” He dawned the rest of his drink.
“I mean we could keep this up at my place,” you suggested. “I have some beers in the fridge—I think. And it’d be safer for you, I suppose.”
His fingers twitched around yours. A smirk graced his lips, “yer worried about me, Pet?”
“A little, yeah,” you confirmed. “I wouldn’t want you to get clipped on my behalf.”
“Is that the only reason?” He teased you.
Your cheeks reddened, not only out of embarrassment. Because Michael had seen right through you. But you also wanted to see where this could go. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted the same as you.
“It’s one of the reasons.”
Michael’s eyes snapped up to yours. His unwavering gaze never leaving yours as he dawned the last of his drink. You took in a shaky breath, your arousal only growing deeper under his gaze.
In the backseat of the taxi, you both sat in comfortable silence. Your hand in his, resting against his thigh. Your mind drifting to what you would do to him, once you’d reached your destination. All the while, wondering if he was thinking about the same things as you.
“I hope ya had a good time,” he said, squeezing your hand gently.
“Yes, I did,” you smiled at him. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date with a handsome fella.” You teased, and he chuckled, looking away nervously. Almost as though he was flustered. “Plus, the night isn’t over yet.”
Michael turned back to you, and brought up his hand, gently cupping your jaw. He leaned into you, his mouth pressed against yours. Your fingers clasped around his wrist, chasing his lips as he started to pull away. His thumb brushed along your cheek, he brought down his forehead against yours.
You pushed open your door, it banged against the wall behind it. Michael's lips was latched onto yours as you stumbled through the door. You blindly threw your house keys onto the counter. Michael pushed the door behind him with his foot.
His tongue slid past your lips, your fingers dug into the thick fabric of his jacket. His hand gripped your hips tightly, both taking a couple of steps backwards. Your jackets were shed as you climbed up the stairs, his vest thrown somewhere in the hallway that led to your room.
“Oof,” you let out as you both landed on your bed, Michael on top of you.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, you giggled.
“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “Just don’t stop. Please.”
Michael obliged. He dove back for your lips. Your hands reached for the hem of his shirt. He pushed himself off of you to take it off. You sat up taking off your own shirt.
Your hand slid up his torso, skin against skin. He leaned into you, his lips smashing against yours. The wet heat kept building between your thighs. His mouth broke away from yours, as his lips travelled down your throat, down to your chest.
His fingers pulled down the straps of your bra, his lips leaving open kisses on your collarbone. His hand snaked around your torso to unclasped your bra. You slightly lifted your torso to give him better access. And soon, your bra joined your shirts on the floor.
His lips latched onto your nipple, and you let out a throaty moan at the wet heat of his tongue toying with your nipple. One of his hands cupped your other breast, kneading the flesh. Your fingers raked through his thick dark hair. Your hips twitching underneath him, looking for some sort of friction.
“Shit, Michael,” you hissed out pleasurably.
His lips left your breast, leaving a long fiery trail as they travelled down to your navel. Your stomach tightened in anticipation, as his hands came to unfasten the button of your jeans. Michael pulled down your jeans, and tossed them on the floor. His hands rubbed along your thighs, you bit down your bottom lip as you looked down at him.
His thick beard scratched against the soft skin of your thigh, as he laid a couple of kisses there. His hands went up to the waistband of your underwear. His eyes locked onto yours, a silence question to which you answered wordlessly, with a nod. He dragged the piece of clothing down your legs, leaving you completely bare.
You started to feel self-conscious, wondering if you looked at least attractive to Michael. Humiliation started to creep up. Your arms twitching and itching to cover yourself up. His hands on your thighs, squeezed gently pulling you back into the moment.
“Yer beautiful,” he reassured you, before his lips moved up your thighs. Your cunt clenching around nothing. His nose brushed against your folds, “fuck,” he hissed. “Yer so wet for me.”
You let out a guttural moan when his tongue took the first swipe at your entrance. Your fists tightened around the sheets, your hips twitching, chasing for more. One of his arms pinned your hips to the bed. His mouth covered your pussy whole. And you gasped, your back arching up. Your hands found his forearm while his tongue and lips kept pleasuring you.
Your legs tightened around his head. He sucked at the small bundle of nerves, making you hiss when he sucked a little too hard. You were losing yourself, coming undone, under his expert tongue. You whimpered, your hands covering your breasts. Michael kept pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The drag of his tongue combined with the suction were enough to make your cunt drenched with want and need.
“Michael, I—I—” speaking was now foreign to you. Your brain and senses overtaken with lust and pleasure, “shit!”
“I know,” he whispered against your cunt. “Come fer me, Pet.”
And that was all you needed. With his name on your lips, your climax crashed into you, your body quivering, your muscles tensing up, as your orgasm washed over you.
Michael gently pulled his head out from between your legs. Panting and blissed out, your eyes found his. His beard glistened with your wetness. A smile played on his lips.
“Like the sounds ya make fer me,” he said crawling on top of you.
You pulled him to you, your lips crashing against his. Tasting the sourness of your own arousal on his tongue. A moan escaped your lips when he bucked into you.
“Michael,” you whimpered against his lips. “You’re wearing too much clothes.” Your hand splayed across his ass, squeezing as he kept rolling his hips into yours. “Please, Mikey, take it off,” you pleaded, your hands reaching his waistband to do it for him.
He pulled back, a smirk playing on his lips, “impatient little thing, aren’t ya?”
“I just want you, Mikey,” you told him. “All of you.”
You watched as he took down his jeans and boxers, leaving him bare to you. He looked more handsome as he did before. You offered him your hand that he took, crawling back onto the bed. His lips smashed against yours, one of your arms went around his shoulders, your fingers grazing at the hair at the nape of his neck. Your free hand slid between you, grabbing a hold of his cock. A groan rumbled through his chest as you stroke his length, up and down. Eyebrows furrowed, his hand cupped your jaw, pulling you into a sloppy kiss.
“Do ya have a condom?” Michael whispered against your lips.
“I'm on birth control and I’m clean. If you—”
“’M clean too,” he answered, his lips crushed against yours. His cock brushed against your heated core, a broken moan rose from your lips, swallowed by his.
He coated his shaft with your wetness before finding your entrance. And pushed inside. You gasped as he slowly pushed into you. He knocked the breath out of you with his girth. Your eyes fell shut; your jaw slacked while he gently thrusted until he bottomed out. And remained there, unmoving.
You felt him throbbed inside of you, and you clenched with a whimper. “Ya alrigh’?” Michael asked, brushing your hair away from your face.
“Yes,” you panted out. He brought his hips back, leaving the tip inside before pushing back into you. Your head fell back, “shit, you feel so good—”
His lips latched onto yours in a fiery kiss. His hips bucking into you, picking up the pace. “Yer so fucking tight,” he said. “So good fer me.”
His chest hair brushed against you; your skin slick with sweat. His lips broke from your mouth, down your jaw, on your pulsing point. Your nails scraping down his back, leaving red marks in their wake. He angled himself a little higher, brushing against that spot no one had reached before. Your eyes rolled at the back of your head.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, toes curling as he kept pushing into you. He buried his head into your neck, his groans and grunts music to your ears. The sound of your love making filled the room, reverberated against the walls. Filthy and loud.
He was pushing you closer and closer to the edge, once again. Michael could feel by the way you kept clenching around him. His hand slid between and found your clit, his fingers circled around it. Bringing you closer to the edge.
“Yer gonna come fer me, Pet, aren’t ya?” He spoke. You nodded, overwhelmed by his cock bare inside of you, relentlessly driving into you. Your eyes rolled at back of your head, with a gentle grip on your jaw, Michael turned your face to him. “Keep yer eyes on me. Want to see ya when ya come on my cock.”
“Michael, please—” you begged him. You didn’t know what you were begging him for. Was it for release? Or to keep the sweet torture going? You didn’t know. You couldn’t know. Your senses were flooded with all sort of messages, your body on fire.
“Come fer me, Pet. Give it to me, girl.” With one final push, you fell off the edge. Your cunt clenched and spasmed around his cock. His name bounced off the wall, your jaw slack, almost stopped breathing. He pushed once, twice, hard into you before he froze, and you felt him spilt his hot seed into your womb.
The world was quiet, your head empty of all thoughts. Your bedroom only filled with your labored breathing. Your shaking legs fell away from his waist, his breath hot and warm against your neck. His weight comfortable on top of you.
He pulled out of you gently and dropped down next to you. “I hope we didn’t keep the neighbor up,” you breathed out.
His warm hazel eyes met yours, “don’t think he’ll mind much.” You giggled at his quip.
You turned on your side facing him, he ran his fingers through your hair. His fingers left your hair to brush against your heated skin, drawing goosebumps. He wrapped his arms around you, drawing you closer.
“I had a great time,” you mumbled against his neck.
His lips brushed against your brows, “me too, Pet.”
In each other’s arms, you forgot about your respective families. If only for one night. It was much needed peace away from the chaos of your lives. Free of the conflicts your families seemed to always bring to your lives.
You were slightly disoriented when you woke the morning after. You had grown accustomed to waking up in your couch, with the TV still on. Being welcomed by the sight of a sleeping man in your bed, was definitely strange and new. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, as though the weight that was crushing him disappeared in his slumber.
The memories from the night before came flooding back, the way his lips felt against yours. His rough fingertips on your hot skin. The feel of his beard on your plush and soft thighs as he ate you out.The thought of it alone made your core ache for more.
You decided to give him a few more minutes of peaceful sleep. To keep him away from the world a little longer. You slid out of bed, picking up his clothes and yours off of the floor as quietly as possible. You left his clothes and vest on a chair by the door. You grabbed a fresh pair of panties, and a sleeping shirt before quietly making your way out of your bedroom.
You threw your clothes in hamper in your bathroom before slipping on the fresh clothes. You stared at yourself in the mirror for long minutes. Was he gonna think of you as easy now? Because you had sex with him on the first date. Was it wrong of you to have sex with him on the first date? Wasn’t there some sort of rule about this?
“Is there?” You asked yourself out loud. You let out a deep breath, barely awake and you’d already worked yourself up with doubts.
Michael walked into your kitchen dressed in the clothes he had on the night before. He dropped his jacket and vest on the counter by the door.
“Mornin’,” he grabbed your arms and pulled you into his. A smile on his lips, his hands ran up and down your spine. Your arms wrapped around his middle.
“Morning,” you greeted him back, pressing your mouth against his. “Coffee?”
“That’d be grand, yeah.”
“Go sit down. I’ll bring it to you,” you poured him a cup. “How did you sleep?”
“Better than I do most days,” he replied.
“I see what you mean,” you put down the cup in front of him. You took your seat across from him, “You know I don’t usually do this,” you blurted out.
“What?”
“Have sex on the first date,” he frowned up at you. “I hope you are not judging me for it. I mean it was great and all. And it felt right,” you rambled on. “But now I feel as though I’d done something wrong—”
“Ya regret it, now?” Michael asked you.
“No,” you shot back. “I—I don’t regret it. I don’t. I just don’t—want you to think that it’s easy. That I’m easy.” You let out a deep breath, flustered and ashamed. “Forget I said anything, I’m just being ridiculous over here.”
“I don’t think yer easy,” Michael reassured you, his hand grabbed yours softly. “I—I care about ya, Pet,” your breath hitched in your throat. Your eyes snapped up to his. Sitting there on the surface, were tenderness and softness. “I really do. It’s hard to explain but I feel—like yer the only one I can truly count on. You make me feel less alone,” he squeezed your hand gently. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”
Heat spread across your chest, and you took a deep breath, “I feel the same about you. And I don’t regret it,” you shook your head. “I really—I really don’t. I want to see where this goes. Between us. Whatever this is.”
“That’d be grand, yeah.”
You bit down your bottom lip, “good.”
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It's Always Been Us - Michael Kinsella x Reader
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader
Story Summary: The continuing saga of Michael and Reader, starting with the morning after It's Always Been You.
Warnings/Tags for entire story: S2E7 & S2E8 AU, Oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v sex (like... a lot of it -- these two have 20 years to make up for), past attempted non-con (if you've seen S2 you know what's up), other additional tags to be added as we go along.
Word Count: ~1700 for this chapter
A/N: It's missing Mikey hours, so here's a new chapter of IABU!
(Also, I can't believe it's been an entire year since I updated this. 😬 Sorry about that.)
If you'd like to be added to the tag list for this or any of my other stories/characters, hit me up!
Michael stirred awake at the text alert on his phone, then carefully reached over to check it so he didn't disturb Y/N, who was sleeping peacefully with her head on his chest.
He unlocked it and opened the text.
From: Birdy
Meeting at Amanda's in 30 minutes.
Michael sighed. He had hoped to be able to spend the morning with Y/N before she had to go home to get ready for work, but no such luck.
He slowly began to slide out from under her.
Y/N let out a little groan and tightened her hold on him, burying her face further into his chest. “Mmph, no, Mikey, not time ta get up yet.”
Michael chuckled and carded a hand through her hair. “Birdy jus’ texted. I hafta get ta Amanda's fer a meetin’.”
Y/N sighed against his skin and loosened her hold, but stayed snuggled to his chest. “Okay. I'll get up and get goin’ then so ya can go do tha’.”
Michael bit his lip. A selfish part of him wanted to keep Y/N in his bed for as long as possible, and besides, he had a feeling that he was going to need her support after the meeting.
He shook his head. “No, love, ya can stay. I hopefully won’ be too long.”
Y/N nodded and pressed a kiss to his chest, then moved her head to the pillows. “Mmm, okay then.”
Michael smiled then leaned over and gave Y/N a kiss on her lips. “Love ya.”
Y/N gave him another kiss before letting him go. “Love ya too, Mikey.”
Michael slid out of bed and went to go take a quick shower, and upon returning to his bedroom to dress he found Y/N had fallen back asleep.
He took a moment to study her. She was even more beautiful in slumber, the stress and worry she carried with her free from her features.
He dressed as silently as possible so as not to disturb her, then pressed a soft kiss to her shoulders before slowly pulling his duvet over her.
He headed downstairs then out the door to walk across to Amanda's.
“Mornin’,” he said as Amanda opened the door.
"Yer’ awfully chipper," Amanda remarked, her eyebrow raised.
She stepped out of the doorway so Michael could enter. "Good night?"
Michael couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, good night."
Amanda scoffed, clearly in a bad mood about something. "Does it hafta do with tha' blonde I saw leavin' yer house tha other day? Because ya know how dangerous it is bringin' a stranger 'round, especially now --"
Michael shook his head. "Nah, tha's nothin' ta worry about."
"Then where were ya? I know ya weren' home las’ night, I tried ta come 'round."
Michael sighed, his own good mood quickly deflating. He was hoping to get business out of the way before he started being grilled about his personal life. "Actually, I was --"
He was interrupted by Amanda's gate opening once again, Birdy giving a wave as she stepped through with Eric in tow.
Amanda gave him a look as if to say, 'this isn't over' before opening the door.
"Mornin'," Birdy said as she and Eric entered.
Michael gave her a kiss on the cheek before nodding at Eric. "Mornin', Birdy, Viking."
"Eric wants ta join in on tha plan," Birdy said.
"Bren's been threatenin' Nikki," Eric explained, "and I ain't fuckin’ havin' tha'."
Michael nodded. "Okay. So we're all in agreement, then?"
“Eric wants something firs’,” Birdy said.
Amanda scoffed. “And wha’s that?”
“I wan’ ta reopen tha houses,” Eric replied. “Run ‘em my way.”
Michael nodded. He completely understood -- by running the houses Eric would no longer be under Amanda's thumb and could do whatever he pleased.
“Fine,” Amanda agreed. “But yer supply has ta come from us.”
Eric nodded. “Agreed.”
“Okay then.”
Eric ran a hand through his hair. "What about Frank and Jimmy? Are we tellin' them abou’ tha plan?"
Michael shook his head. “Jimmy probably wouldn' agree ta it.”
“And Frank's got his own things he's dealin' wit' right now,” Birdy added. “I don' wan' ta add ta tha’.”
Eric nodded. "So when are we gonna do it, then?"
"Best time would probably be tonight after hours at tha pub," Michael explained. "Better fer an ambush, fewer people ‘round."
" Tonight ?"
Michael nodded. “Bren’s hirin’. Tha longer we wait tha harder it’ll be ta do.”
Eric nodded. “Makes sense. So how are we doin’ this?”
They all quickly hashed out the details of the plan.
“Alrigh’, everyone knows their roles,” Birdy concluded. “We meet back here a’ six.”
"Wait," Michael said as everyone got up to leave. "There's somethin' else I need ta talk about."
He took a deep breath as everyone looked at him expectantly. "Y/N and I are seein' each other."
"Ya are?" Birdy replied in surprised delight. "Since when?"
"Couple days. I went over ta her place ta talk and one thing kinda led ta another and, well…" Michael shrugged, unable to keep a grin off of his face.
“I fuckin’ knew it!” Eric crowed. “Jimmy and Frank both owe me 500 quid -- We've had a bet goin' since ya came home las' year about whether or not ya'd get yer head outta yer arse and finally make a move on tha doc. It's abou’ time ya two got ta fuckin'."
Birdy grimaced. "Eric, don' be so crude."
She wrapped her arms around Michael in a hug. "I'm happy fer ya both, love. It's no wonder ya look content this mornin' despite everythin' that's goin' on."
Amanda scoffed. "Am I tha only one who thinks this is a bad idea? Bringin' an outsider inta our family's personal business?"
"What are ya on about, ‘an outsider’ ?" Birdy replied. “Y/N’s been aroun’ jus’ as long as you yerself have -- longer, in fact. Like I've told ya before, just because she hasn't married inta tha family yet doesn' make her any less of a Kinsella.”
Michael couldn't help but smile at Birdy's use of the word ‘ yet ’. “Y/N knows wha’ Bren’s done and agrees tha' he needs ta go before he hurts anyone else.”
“Is she workin' tonight?” Eric asked.
Michael nodded. “Aye, but there's no worries about tha’. I'm gonna make absolutely fuckin’ sure tha’ she's not gonna hafta try ta save him.” Not after wha’ he did ta her.
Birdy nodded. “Well then tha’s settled. Everyone go get some rest -- we've got a long nigh’ ahead of us.”
As the group began to disperse, Eric clapped Michael on the back. “Seriously, mate, I'm happy fer you and tha doc. I've always liked her.”
Michael nodded with a small smile. “Thanks.”
He headed back to his house, smiling again when he could hear Y/N humming to herself in his kitchen.
All of the stress of the morning faded away as he walked in to see her standing at his kitchen counter drinking a cup of coffee, clad in his button-down shirt from the night before with her hair still wet from the shower.
He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Good morning, love.”
Y/N set her coffee cup down and turned in his arms. “Mmm, good mornin’ ta ya too.”
She reached up and carded her fingers through the hair at Michael's temples. “How was yer meetin'?”
Michael sighed. “We're goin’ after Bren tonigh’. He’s plannin’ on making a power move, so we can' wait.”
Y/N took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay, jus’... be careful.”
Michael nodded, glancing away from her.
Y/N cupped his face in her hands, bringing his gaze back to hers. “I'm serious , Michael. I absolutely canna’ lose ya.”
Michael gave her a soft kiss. “I will, love.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. If things feel even tha slightest bit off I'll call off tha entire plan.” Michael bit his lip. “I, er, I also told Birdy, Amanda, and Viking abou' us.”
A soft smile spread across Y/N’s face. “Ya did? Wha’ did they say?”
Michael huffed out a laugh. “Viking was fuckin’ delighted. Apparently he, Jimmy, and Frank had a wager goin' on abou' whether or not we'd get together. Viking won.”
Y/N shook her head with a fond smile. “I knew there was a reason I always liked Viking. Wha’ abou' Birdy and Amanda? How'd they take tha news?”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Amanda said it wasn' a good idea ta bring an ‘outsider’ inta our family’s business, ta which Birdy replied tha’ yer’ definitely no outsider, tha’ ya’ve been aroun' even longer than Amanda has and tha’ even though ya haven' married inta tha family yet that didn' mean tha’ ya were any less of a Kinsella.”
Y/N huffed out a laugh. “Birdy really said ‘yet’?”
Michael nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “She's always considered ya one a’ us, ya know.”
Y/N nodded. “Aye, I know.”
Michael took a moment to appreciate the way his shirt showed off her thighs. “When do ya have ta leave ta go get ready fer work?”
Y/N shrugged. “Not until this afternoon, why?”
Michael stepped closer to her, boxing her in against the counter. “Because ya know wha’s even better than comin' home ta ya wearin' my clothes?"
He slid a hand up her inner thigh. groaning as Y/N's legs parted for him. "Comin’ home ta ya wearin’ only my clothes.”
Y/N gasped as Michael’s fingers caressed her uncovered core. “Couldn't find my knickers.”
Michael smirked. “How convenient fer me then.”
He withdrew his hand and took a step back, grinning when Y/N let out a displeased whine. “How abou’ we head back upstairs and continue wit’ tha plans I had fer’ us this mornin’?”
Y/N pretended to think. “Well, tha’ depen’s. Do your plans involve us bein’ naked?”
Michael smirked. “Eventually, but firs’ I'm gonna fuck ya while you're wearin’ nothin’ but me shirt.”
Y/N took his hand. “Mmm, in tha’ case I suppose breakfast can wait. Lead tha way, love.”
Michael led her towards the stairs. No matter what happened later that evening, he was going to make whatever time he had with Y/N count.
Horny little Michael Kinsella blurb inspired by this GIF from Treason:
Dedicated to @loveroftoomanyfandoms @bellaxgiornata and @souliebird who egged me on for this.
Smutty smut smut with fem reader below the cut.
Michael was late getting home again. It wasn't a rare occurrence, but you felt like you and Michael barely got any alone time in the evenings these days. Sure, waking up next to him was always grand, but you wanted to be awake to welcome him home, too.
You were in bed reading when you heard the door open and shut downstairs, signaling Michael’s arrival home. A sly smile crept across your face as you set your book down on the nightstand, then you took your panties off so that you were completely naked under Michael’s dress shirt you borrowed. You loved wearing his clothes because they smelled like him, and it was a source of comfort. Michael loved seeing you in his clothes, and he couldn't keep his hands off you if you were wearing one of his sweaters or shirts.
He finally appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, and you felt for him because he looked so tired.
"Mikey, love. Come ta bed", you whispered as you patted his side of the bed.
He smiled and crossed the room towards the bed, then he shed his pants and sweater, leaving him in just his boxers and t-shirt. You pulled back the covers for him, and he laid down. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get the words out, you climbed on top of him, pressing your lips to his for a kiss. Michael’s hands wandered underneath the hem of the shirt you were wearing, and he moaned into your mouth at the realization that you weren't wearing panties.
"Feelin' naughty, pet?" he whispered against your mouth between kisses.
"Missed you, love."
"I missed ya too. So fuckin much."
"Make love ta me, Mikey."
"Well, how can I say no?"
He wrapped his arms around you and slowly sat up, positioning you in his lap. You could feel his half hard cock through his boxers on your bare pussy, and you started grinding against his lap to get him harder.
"Fuck me, pet. So wet for me already."
"Need ya now, Mikey."
He put his hands on your hips and guided you up a little so he could take off his shirt and boxers. You unbuttoned his shirt you were wearing and started to slide it off your shoulders, but he stopped you.
"No, leave it on," he said before kissing you again.
You wrapped your hand around his fully erect cock, stroking it a couple of times before lining it up with your soaking wet entrance and lowering yourself down on him. Both of you took a moment to adjust to the feeling of this position, being face to face with one another while he was inside you. The feeling was indescribable, and neither of you had started to move yet.
Michael kissed you again, feverishly this time, then whispered against your lips, "Use me, pet. Take what ya need."
You gently started rolling your hips against his lap, and Michael gripped your hips to help with your pace. Your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck as you tenderly rode him, your breaths mixing together as soft sounds of pleasure escaped your lips.
Michael’s lips found your neck, and he left a trail of soft kisses down to your collarbone. "So fuckin gorgeous," he breathed out.
You were getting close. His cock was hitting that sweet spot at an angle you had never felt before, and your cunt was starting to clench around him, encouraging him to cum too.
"Cum with me, Mikey."
"Ah, fuck. Ya feel so good love, gonna cum."
"Cum for me baby."
He gripped your hips tighter as he spilled into you, and you held on to him for dear live as that coil snapped in your lower belly. You ran your fingers through his hair as you kissed him gently, his cock still inside you.
"Yer incredible, Mikey."
"So are you, pet."
You could get used to having him home in the evenings.
*runs away*
Masterlist
Follow #kinkwasthereaminuteago
Rating: Explicit 18+ no minors!
Pairings include: Matt Murdock x female reader, Frank Castle x female reader, Tristan Thorne x female reader, Michael Kinsella X female reader, Bucky Barnes X female reader, Matt x Frank x female reader, Matt Murdock x Frank Castle,
Author's note: it was a wild ride writing these and it's the first time I've done a challenge like this! Fully appreciate and look forward to any comments and reblogs!
PSA New Followers: please have your age in your bio, if it's not there im afraid you'll get blocked!
Also check your Account Settings>Content you see, to ensure you can see posts tagged with Mature/Sexual Themes.
Dirty Talk - Frank x reader
Floor Sex - Matt x reader
Anal - Frank x reader
Breathplay - Michael x reader
Breeding - Matt x reader
Morning Sex - Frank x reader
Sex Toys - Frank x reader
Voice Kink - Matt x reader
Double Penetration - Matt x Frank x Reader
Drunk Sex - Matt x reader
Rimming - Matt x reader
Hate/Angry Sex - Frank x reader
Face sitting - Matt x reader
Love Bites/Marks - Michael x reader
Overstimulation - Matt x Frank
Bath/shower sex - Tristan x reader
Pegging - Frank x reader
Lingerie - Matt
Masturbation - Matt x reader
Mirror Sex - Bucky x reader
Praise Kink - Matt x reader
Phone Sex - Bucky x reader
Food Play - Frank x reader
Tender Sex - Tristan Thorne x reader
Sex Pollen - Matt x Frank x reader
Sexting - tbc
Sensory Deprivation - Matt x reader (in prog)
Formal Wear - Frank x reader
Table Sex - Matt Murdock x reader
Public Sex - Matt x reader
Free choice - Cuddling - Frank x Matt
Butterfly Effect | Michael Kinsella x Reader
Chapter 1: Toffee Nut Latte
Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (afab)
Summary: Michael decides to check out the new café down the street and meets a kind-hearted barista who is determined to make him smile. Or, you serve a rather broody customer that seems like so much more than he lets on, and you decide to take the first step.
Warnings: None. Some angst in the beginning, but nothing serious, unless you consider bad flirting a warning.
Word Count: 5k
A/n: This is my first time writing for Michael. This really was a challenge and I hope I managed to get his character down right, but the man just needs a goddamn break in his life. I’m literally so nervous for y’all to read this… Also, I read some fics on AO3 and I watched some more Michael edits and tried to get the Irish accent on his end as right as I possibly could. I also googled a lot. If you want to be tagged, let me know! (Also, if you haven’t tried a toffee nut latte in December, you have to! It’s my comfort drink during Christmas time.)
The sky above Dublin is littered with gray clouds. A promise of rain goes through the news and every radio station with the weather report. There is a storm warning for those in Ireland who live close to the sea, but the city is told to be vigilant for any harsh winds. And as the first raindrops cascade down onto the asphalt, the clouds turn black.
Michael doesn’t mind the rain. It’s not because he was born and grew up in Ireland; it’s mostly because he has been lacking the feeling of nature in its rawest form for years. Eight years. Prison doesn’t treat anyone well, and he knows the weariness after getting out is normal, but he can’t seem to find a way to wrap his head around the changes around him. The world is so much different now than it was back then. But it is less the fact that gentrification has progressed to the point he has lost count of the family businesses that have disappeared and rather himself who has changed.
He lost everything eight years ago and paid the ultimate price. He is still paying for it. He truly believed that after getting out of prison, he could get back on his feet and get Anna back - it’s all he’s been looking forward to for eight years, to finally see and hold his little girl in his arms again, but she is not that little anymore and all laws and rules seem to be against him as he continues to try, try and try, and yet he always seems to lose.
Jimmy and Amanda are happy. They pretend to be, anyway. Their kids are bigger now than when Michael went to prison, but they’re still boys. Looking into Amanda’s eyes again after all this time has made all the guilt resurface that he tried to swallow while he was fighting for his survival in the dark confines of his prison cell.
He’s made mistakes, a lot of mistakes, and he doesn’t consider himself a good person, far from it, actually, but he wants to be better. He wants to be a father. He failed to be a husband and that led to a loss he can’t possibly put into words without tearing his heart out and putting it out into the sun for the flesh to melt off while his nerves are still connected to his conscious being.
He knows he screwed up and that he has no right to see Anna again, but he is selfish and there is so much he has to make up for. He can’t roll over and die, he has to try, and no matter how badly his family wants him back in the saddle, he wants to leave the man he was before behind. If not for him, he has to do it for his daughter. He owes that much to his wife, and he owes it to everyone else he has hurt to try.
A lot has changed around and inside Michael. He is sadder now, he doesn’t remember what it’s like to feel joy, he’s lost, he can’t find his way back, and the nightmares still keep him up. He can’t sleep. The bullet holes are still there. Every corner of his house is haunted. It reminds him of what he did, of the sacrifices he made in the name of his family, in the name of money, and he gets sick at the sight of his reflection. He loathes himself.
And as he finds comfort in the rain, he walks the streets of Dublin with a nauseating feeling of nostalgia eating through the sensitive skin of his insides because even the city itself seemed to scream at him in the same degrading tone his entire life already likes to take with him.
But he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. He can’t say he doesn’t deserve the pain the universe and himself are projecting onto him because he does.
The rain grows heavier and he pulls the collar of his coat up to his throat. Some of the droplets get caught in his bear. He should probably shave, but he can’t find it in himself to try.
The streets are empty. A lot of familiar storefronts have shut down, buildings have been demolished and modern architecture lines the streets. Even the coffee shop he and Jimmy used to frequent is gone now. But instead of a new, fancy business building, a seemingly normal café has replaced it.
He stops.
Butterfly Effect.
If his education hasn’t failed him, the butterfly effect describes the power of even the most minuscule change to have a huge impact on your life - everyone’s life, really. Everything affects everything. The flapping of a butterfly’s wings on one end of the world can cause a natural catastrophe on the complete opposite end. It’s chaos theory.
Or, a nice cup of coffee can change the course of your day within seconds. That’s what he supposes it means. Otherwise, the name wouldn’t make any sense. An odd name for a café, he thinks. But the smell of roasted beans and sugary treats draws him in like a moth to a flame.
The bell above the door rings, signaling the arrival of another customer. Compared to the storm raging outside, it’s cozy and warm inside the café you work at. The mostly brown interior reminds you of a cabin in the woods in the middle of winter. You’ve grown used to the noise of conversations overlapping, the sizzling of the coffee maker, and the occasional ding of the oven whenever someone wants one of the snacks from the display heated up and ready to go, or ready to dive into it in a comfortable armchair somewhere close to the plants. It’s the work-free section of the café, and it has become rather popular during people’s most stressful times.
You have been working there for only a few months. After deciding to make a living from writing and quitting your nine-to-five desk job, you realized that money isn’t so easy to come by, so you let desperation lead you to the city and landed a job at this café that, at the time, had just opened. You were miserable at first because nothing was going your way, but you learned how to live with it because quite frankly, the place is nicer than you thought. After putting aside the pessimism, you found somewhat of an optimist inside of you, and that’s something you never thought you’d say.
The café is now your favorite place to be. It’s not a coffee shop because the main purpose isn’t to sell as many coffees to go; the place is perfectly decorated for people to stay and drink inside (and outside in summer). You get the occasional walk-ins, but most people stay for the atmosphere, and you can’t blame them.
It’s busy most of the time, there is a lot of work, and the stress wears you down and often takes the inspiration to create something outside of work away from you, but it’s not every day that a stable job comes with nice people and a nice ambiance. It’s better than staring at a computer screen all day, anyway.
You wouldn’t call yourself ‘the norm’. You’re a mess most of the time, you still can’t make doctor’s appointments without rehearsing your speech a million times beforehand, and doing the dishes isn’t your favorite thing to do, but you have a routine. You have friends. You’re as happy as you can be, and you only find yourself having an existential crisis every two days now rather than every hour, which seems to be a big improvement that should be celebrated. You’re a mess, but you stand by it.
Most people would have given up their dreams by now, but you have always been a dreamer, it keeps you alive, so giving up and returning to a life that doesn’t make you happy is not a decision that is even open for discussion. So many people have told you and keep telling you that you are never going to make it, but in your mind, you’re right where you want to be because that is where you can be, and everything else will come with time.
Even the smallest changes can lead to a sudden 180-turn in your life. Butterfly Effect. The place of your employment seems to be a little too on the nose with their name.
A rainy day usually means a lot of work for you, but you don’t let that sway you from admiring the beauty of Dublin hulled in gray in the afternoon.
The bell above the door rings and you look up. The man that walks in is wearing a sweater as dark as the weather, but it’s green and it reminds you more of a sad field than the gray clouds in the sky. His hair is dark though, and the dark strands of his beard surround a mouth that looks like it hasn’t smiled in a while.
He’s absolutely beautiful.
The stranger approaches you and the air gets stuck in your lungs. He eyes the menu, his brown eyes narrowing to get a closer picture of the writing - it’s yours. You updated the signs this morning, and you paid close attention to detail. You wonder if it was too much, your cheeks starting to burn bright red, ready to apologize and read it to him, but then he finally nods and steps up to the counter.
“Hi,” you say, your voice higher than usual, “Welcome to the Butterfly Effect! What can I get for you today?”
Your voice is like a breath of fresh air. Michael’s eyes fall on you, and he is instantly captivated by the force of your smile. It’s almost unfair how kind you seem, your little apron fitting perfectly around your waist and your hair only tied up enough to keep your face visible to the public. You’re open, painfully so; he suddenly feels like a smudge of black on a colorful canvas, and that canvas is you. Your smile is welcoming, it draws him in, but he doesn’t want to come closer. It’s light like yours that often gets ruined by the likes of him.
“Just a double espresso,” he says. It’s his old regular.
Compared to the volume of the bustling café, he’s quiet, but you still hear every word. There is a low vibrato to the way he speaks, and the new sensation makes you shiver. You have seen many people around here, it has become a favorite spot for people to hang out, but he’s a total stranger. And he’s different from the usual clientele that comes in. He’s mysterious, but he’s not dark. You wouldn’t describe him that way. He fits in with the furniture, you realize, and he would definitely make a cozy accessory.
If only he could see himself the same way. It’s not hard to tell that he doesn’t, or he wouldn’t carry himself the way he does. You can almost smell the sadness radiating off of him, and the lack of a smile makes you feel almost sad with him. And of course, for him.
“A double espresso?” you question.
Your curiosity is piqued.
He’s not sure why you sound like you’re insinuating something. Are you… judging him?
Michaels shifts from one foot to the other and says, “Yeah. A double espresso.”
“You know we have other options, right?”
He does. He can see the menu. His frown deepens. He finds himself taken aback by your candidness. He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s what I usually order. If ya don’t have any, I can look for somethin’ else.”
You smile a little at his shyness. He’s on the completely wrong path when it comes to interpreting your intentions. It’s not like you’re judging him, not at all, but there is more to him, there has to be. Every person has a story. You work with people every day, you’ve encountered rare personalities and yet there are always those who exceed your expectations. Michael seems to be one of those very people.
You can’t explain how you know, it’s merely a feeling, but your feelings are hardly ever wrong. You’ve been working in customer service for a while, and it comes with a certain sense of how people tick, what they’re like, and it makes you speculate about who they are inside, too. It’s what you’ve been doing from the beginning. At first, you felt bad, but you soon realized you aren’t doing anything harmful by observing. You are just studying human beings in their natural habitat, and it truly helps you get a better sense of who people are.
Coffee is the first indicator of the kind of person someone is. Unique coffee doesn’t instantly mean you are an adventurer unless there is something about you that would suggest it, just like the way you would order it or the kind of toppings you prefer. Keeping that in mind, ordering a double espresso also doesn’t mean you’re basic or ‘normal’ just because many people drink it; it’s the kind of person you see before you combined with the order that paints you a picture of who the person is.
You brew coffee for other people and make a living with that, so of course, coffee is something you judge based on. Sometimes, you memorize coffee orders simply to get to know the regulars that come in. People-watching is by far your favorite activity.
With Michael, it’s not just the coffee that gives it away though. The second he opened his mouth, you knew. Even though your conversation runs based on customer and service provider, the air between you and the way he carries himself intrigues you because you have to admit, it’s not often you feel this starstruck by a random man coming into your place of work and ordering a boring double espresso.
But he isn’t just a random man, is he?
The aura that consumes him and the clouds that follow him – they’re a testament to something else, something you don’t know about but that inevitably draws you in. He’s a magnet, almost. He shows so much without actually showing it, and he doesn’t even seem to know it. Perhaps that’s why he looks so surprised at your open and affectionate nature. He’s not used to people being nice to him. A lot of people that come into the café aren’t, but he surely is the most conflicted one. It’s a gut feeling that drives you.
“Oh no, that’s not what I meant!” you quickly assure him. “I get it, believe me. But let me let you in on a secret–“ You look deep into his eyes, and it’s enough to crack his foundation just a little.
You meet his eyes and Michael gets flustered. Eye contact has become a means to intimidate, but the way you look at him is far from that. It’s different. He licks his lip and hopes you can’t see too clearly that you have caught him off guard.
Well, needless to say, you have. The second you meet his beautiful eyes that appear almost black in the dim light of the room, you see his stern expression falter and a sense of humanity flashing through. It’s a broken, painful sliver of humanity, but it’s human nonetheless.
Shaking off the whirlwind of thoughts that almost turns you mute, you regain your composure. “We have this new toffee nut latte on the menu that tastes best with a little caramel and cinnamon on top,” – you point to the sign above your head – “You strike me as the kind of guy that could use more than just a boring espresso, especially on a day that’s already darker than our furniture,” you say before quickly adding, “No offense.”
Michael catches himself before he can lose all of his dignity. He chuckles awkwardly, looks away, then looks at you again. His eyes roam your face, then the sign behind you. He’s never been more grateful to his beard for hiding most of the blush on his pale cheeks. When he meets your eyes again, you’re still staring at him, and your smile is contagious.
You look so cute like this, with your apron and the butterfly clip that holds your name in place. Michael finds himself smiling at you, but it’s not because he’s nervous or shy – okay, maybe it’s because he is shy – but it’s because you are smiling at him so brightly, he forgets his name and he forgets what air feels like. His lips naturally curl up and mirror your expression, and he swears he can feel the blush rising to his head. A spark of warmth ignites in his eyes that was dormant for far too long.
Whatever you’re doing to him, it’s working, and you’ve barely talked.
I actually quite like the furniture, he thinks to himself, but the words wouldn’t find their way onto his lips.
“None taken,” he says instead.
You let out a sigh of relief. It’s hard to place the expression on his face, but his smile offers a lovely sight. “Oh, good. With gentrification and everything I really can’t afford scaring off a paying customer because of a toffee nut latte that you could get at Starbucks for twice the price. So,” you say, and you once again bite yourself in the ass for the inappropriate joke.
Why are you still talking? You were so confident, so in your element, but now he has you blushing again and rambling like a teenager. If your boss were to hear any of the things you just said to the poor man, you would probably end up having a lengthy conversation about etiquette.
You bite your cheek and close your eyes. “I’m so sorry, I should probably stop talking now. Just pretend you didn’t hear any of that. I really need this job. You probably think I’m crazy now.”
Michael’s lip twitches again, much to his own surprise. “That depends, are ya tryin’ to sell me on overpriced or good coffee?” he asks.
You feign a gasp. “Good coffee, of course!” You pause before adding with a wink, “Or so I’m supposed to say.”
You should shut up, but how can you when he is teasing you so effortlessly?
“That was a joke. Our coffee is excellent, and I’m not just saying that… okay, so, I’m mad, huh? That’s what you think. It’s official.”
He chuckles, his hand raising slightly as if to calm you down. Perhaps you have started talking a little fast, but rambling comes unfairly naturally. It’s your defense mechanism.
“I don’t think yer mad,” he says.
A blush spreads across your cheeks at the soft tone of his voice. He’s not as stressed as most of your customers; there is a calm amidst the storm.
“But if yer gonna rob me of five quid for a latte,” Michael adds, and there he goes again, teasing, “ya might as well get me an extra shot of espresso with that or I’ll start thinkin’ that ya are. Wouldn’t be good for business, would it?”
His words elicit a small giggle from you. “You can have as many as you like. On the house. But only today.”
You also shouldn’t be doing that, there’s a reason you’re supposed to charge for any particular changes like extra espresso or extra whipped cream, but you’re not thinking rationally anymore. Years of customer service training seem to be gone all of a sudden.
He shrugs again. “Just one’d be grand, thanks.”
“So, one toffee nut latte?” You meet his eyes. They remind you of ground coffee beans. You wonder if he smells the same, or if he smells like the rain outside mixed with the distinctive scent of wet grass in the air. You can't explain why the thought crosses your mind, but as soon as it settles in, it refuses to leave. “Or did I get that wrong?” you ask to clarify.
Michael shakes his head. “That’s right.”
“Okay”
He nods to the pile of paper cups next to the register. “Actually, could I get that to go?” he asks. “Please?”
“Sure,” you reach for the cup, “I can make that happen. One more thing though, and then I’ll leave you alone. Can I get your name?”
He frowns.
“For the order,” you add.
“Oh, right. Name’s Michael.”
“Michael…” His name is just as beautiful as him. You use the Sharpie next to the register to write his name in bold letters onto the coffee cup. “I hope I got that right,” you murmur more to yourself than him, but he hears you nonetheless.
His eyes crinkle in the corners from how hard he's smiling. The glint they’re carrying is just as teasing as before. On the counter, his fingers start patting a steady rhythm. “If ya wrote it with a k, yer wrong,” he says.
“I didn’t,” you say.
“Then you’re good.”
You try not to pass away from the sight of his smile or the subtle praise he throws your way.
You eye him and hesitate before moving a line lower and adding,
“You have a nice smile :)”
You consider putting your number as well, but that would be too much of a bold move, even for you, so you leave it be. You’re not even sure if he is as intrigued as you are; you develop crushes fairly easily, and it’s worse when hot men come in during tea time and order a coffee from you. You don’t want to creep him out, you just want to be nice. You want to make his day. He seems like the kind of guy that could use a pick-me-up, and you have your work cut out for you.
Handing the cup over to your colleague, you return your attention to the man before you. “Anything else you’d like, Michael?” you ask.
Swiftly taken aback by you saying his name so casually as if you’ve known each other for a while and he didn’t just walk into a café on a normal rainy day in Dublin like any other person around you but that you’re actually long-lost friends, he snaps out of it and shakes his head.
You can tell he’s not that much of a talker, so you accept his soft ‘thank you’, and name the total. He hands you the money, and he tips graciously.
Michael isn’t even sure why he does it, but then your eyes light up even more and he realizes that’s why. He wants to see you happy. He wants to brand your face into his brain with a hot iron.
The question ‘What the fuck is wrong with ya?’ Nudges him. ‘Stop it.’
He wants to, but he can’t.
You put the tip into your jar and offer him another smile, but this time your eyes are the ones holding the playful glint. “Well, thank you, good sir!” you say.
There can’t be much wrong with him. You are the kind of person many people would feel drawn to. He just doesn’t like the way it makes him feel.
He looks away. “Sure. See ya,” he says, and when he turns around to pick up his order at the counter a few steps over, he reads the name on your nametag and calls your name most deliciously.
You shudder.
“That’s…” you peek at your name tag. “That’s my name.”
He said your name. Good God you feel like such a teenager.
Did you make the right decision by writing him that note? You’re not sure, but you hope he gets your hint and comes back because he has proven to be quite something else – someone else – and you’d be damned to let that beautiful stranger slip through your fingers like any other man you could have had in the past.
It’s just something about Michael that has you yearning for more. Something that entices you and pulls you in. Maybe it’s the mystery that surrounds him or the dark cloud that you seem to have been able to clear for just a moment, but you could see the rainbow following the rain. Someone just has to shine enough light on him to make him smile again.
As you look to your right, your co-worker casts you a knowing glance. She smirks, her arms crossed over her chest. “You have a nice smile,” she quotes.
You roll your eyes.
“Do you write that on all customers’ cups or just this lad?”
“Sarah,” you warn.
“I mean, he’s hot, but come on! What was that?”
You can tell she’s trying hard not to laugh at you, and you are this close to smacking her in the head with the whisk closest to you. For a moment, you consider it.
“You need to get out more,” she says. “Learn how to flirt properly. That was just sad to watch.”
“Oh, fuck off!” you say, but the tone of your voice is playful.
You know the note was a pathetic attempt at flirting, and chances are he won’t reciprocate them, but at least you can sleep better at night knowing you’ve made his day better because you made him smile, and that usually goes a long way on a bad day.
Michael, at first overwhelmed by the sweet taste of his coffee, quickly comes to the decision that he likes whatever drink you made him buy. It reminds him of Christmas, of simpler times, and it makes him feel warm inside.
He likes his coffee strong, you took note of that. While he can taste the espresso clear as day, the sweet hints of cinnamon and caramel mixed with the warm foam and whipped cream explode on his tongue. He would have never ordered it if you hadn’t recommended it, that’s for sure, but the different tastes blend perfectly and don’t take away the essence of what he truly likes about the double espresso he usually orders. It’s different, but it reminds him of home.
The latte itself isn’t what causes him to pause though. It’s the written words underneath his name. Your handwriting is unique, fitting for someone like you, but he has no trouble deciphering it.
“You have a nice smile :)”
The compliments he receives are usually comments made by his family, and they’re never that special. Not that Michael would consider himself special, anyway. He can’t remember the last time someone complimented his smile; his smile had never been the center of anyone’s attention before. Until now. He’s flirted with women, he’s been around, but the purity of your compliment paired with the carefully drawn smiley face next to your note feels different than where his conversations usually lead.
He looks over his shoulder into the café where he sees you leaning over the counter through the runny glass of the window, a lolli in your hand as you hand it to a little girl. Your interaction flows effortlessly, just as it did with him.
The child points to the butterfly clip that keeps your name tag in place. You reach into the pocket of your apron and find a spare clip to hand her. The girl’s face lights up and you look even happier than before. It's a smile not many people have, and a power that even seems to enchant children.
The mother seems a lot more relaxed now that she’s talking to you. Michael begins to wonder if maybe your smile is the butterfly effect and not the coffee itself. Maybe you are the reason so many people come to the café. You offer solace, a smile, and some hot coffee. It’s every stressed person’s dream, he thinks, to be served by someone like you.
The rain cascades down on his tired features, but he’s not cold. He has his coffee and he has the thought of your smile etched into his brain, and there is something about you that won’t allow him to forget, no matter how hard he tries.
He glances back down at the note, his lips curling into another smile. If someone passed by him and would ask him why, he wouldn’t even know what to answer. Is he smiling because of the note or because of you? Or is it the taste of something new? Or maybe he has just gone insane, he’s not sure anymore.
The short moment of relief he felt inside the café is gone and instead replaced by the familiar feeling of dread. The gray of the clouds returns to his soul, and the light you have tried to light in his heart has gone out. The smile turns bittersweet before it dies on his lips, but then he looks back at you through the window, the rain turning your face blurry, and he wants nothing more than to scream at the clouds to go away.
Michael is too weak to fight what’s eating him inside. It’s inevitable. People around him get hurt and he hurts himself in the process. He would be foolish to think otherwise.
But then there’s you. You are a kind-hearted breath of fresh air. You are good with people. You seem like the kind of person who could never do something bad. You’re an Angel. You’re the complete opposite of him, and opposites attract. It’s a treacherous feeling and it’s dangerous, but he can’t help it.
A minute it took for you to make him smile. If that is not a record that piques his interest, he’s not sure what is. Not that he would admit his reason for going back to be your smile or the lovely note you have left on his coffee cup. He likes to think it’s the toffee nut latte and the ambiance, but deep down, even Michael knows that is not the reason he is truly smiling.
Coffee has become his new favorite drink and he knows exactly where to get his fix.
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