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being married to jack means sleeping on your tummy with one thigh hitched over his waist when he sleeps on his back. his broad hand & chubby wrist holding onto your warm skin, fingers curled around your thigh. you’re basically sleeping on top of him as he wiggles a little closer, lifting your leg up further so he can press his morning hard-on against the soft swell of your cunt.
one hand spreading your cheeks so he can wedge himself into you, while his foot plants flat on the mattress. a low, sleepy, raspy groan “fuuck.” oozing out of him as he settles himself inside.
when you stir, pushing your leg further into his tummy to keep him close, he’s instantly going for the kiss. hips bucking up in circles as he lazily laps at your tongue, “good morning, baby. kiss?”
slooooooooowwww makeout and fucking at 8am on his off-day </3
Tags: NSFT, CNC/Dubcon, somnophilia, oral (f!receiving), light dacryphilia, Pope is an eater, second person/Pope POV, guilt, gender neutral pronouns but AFAB, unprotected sex, creampie
AN: More Pope dacryphilia!! I can't help it!!!!!
He never slept well—and probably never had. Really, Pope couldn't remember the last time he had a full eight hours of rest. Even when he felt safe and comfortable sleep rarely took him for longer than three hours at a time; but it didn't really bother him, since it meant he could watch you while you slept.
Read more under the cut
It's one of his favorite parts of the day: waking in the early hours of the morning and rolling over to watch you. The steady rise and fall of your chest, the vague flutter of your eyelashes, all the little movements when you would shift to get comfortable. It was also inevitable that watching his lover do something so natural would make his body react. At first he fights the urge to do anything, you're sleeping and it's wrong. But you agreed to it before and always loved when he touched you. So he lets his calloused hands slip under your clothes, squeezing and lightly pulling at your flesh.
He's whispering apologies as he tugs off your pajamas, sliding under the blankets and between your legs. Pope eats you out like it's his last meal, dragging his tongue through your folds and suckling on your clit. Your sleepy little moans and the way your hips grind up toward his mouth is just encouragement. He's kneading your thighs like a kitten while his face stays buried between your thighs, tugging your legs shut enough to squeeze his head. It ends with him pressing reverent kisses up from your sex to your hip bones.
Now that you're properly soaked he's finally tugging down his boxers and shuffling around to toss them off the bed. Leaning down to whisper sweet promises against your cheek as he presses home. Nudging himself into you as he presses one of your legs up and down to the bed to keep you open for him. Pope's thrusts are controlled—slow and even—doing his best not to wake you up. Though his best effort is in vain as his thrusts grow sloppier and rougher in his eagerness to be closer to you.
By the time you wake up he's whining, his face pressed into your neck as he slams into you. Choked off moans falling from your lips as you squirm under him. Pope sobs, "I'm so sorry, so sorry..."
He strokes your sweaty hair back and out of your face, "I-I couldn't help it. You just feel so good! Do you feel nice? I felt you cum earlier, lemme—lemme help you cum again"
Now that you're awake he's able to lift your legs, guiding them to wrap around his waist. Pressing sloppy kisses to your lips as he tangles his hands in the pool of your hair spilled across the pillows.
Finally, his hips are starting to stutter, pretty tears rolling down both of your faces as he rubs his nose against yours, "You're so perfect. Taking me in your sleep like that...you tasted so good creaming all over my mouth. Were you dreaming about me?"
He isn't waiting for an answer as he lets out a gutteral moan, huffing against your skin as he unloads inside you, holding your hips in place as he pulls out. Watching the viscous white fluid seep out of you.
Tags: slight gore, mention of violence - gn!reader (no gendered pronouns used, no physical description of r) - angst
Andrew unlocks the door and enters your shared apartment. He's met with silence, that leaves him more on edge than it should. You're usually there greet him at the door if you're home. And then, you begin to debrief your days with each other. Its always the same routine. He always texts when he's on his way home. And twenty minutes ago your replied. I'm home, see you soon. A lot can happen in twenty minutes, he thinks. His mind jumping to the most unpleasant thoughts immediately.
It's not that he minds that you haven't stopped whatever you're doing to greet him, or you went out without telling him. You can do what you want. It's just you had a routine, you had both settled into it so well.
Stepping into his old home, would always be different. There was always some chaos happening and more often than not he was required to clean it up. But since moving away and living with you. You're life together had become predictable and comforting.
You not being at the door to greet him made him more uneasy than it should. Instinctively he swept the room, still hovering at the front door. The flat you shared was small, and in the first room was the kitchen and living space. It was all as he'd left it that morning. The kitchen counter was clear, the toaster and coffee machine still sat in their same place. The couch was as he'd left it, plump cusions decorated the small but cozy unit. All was in order. No sign of forced entry. But to comfort himself slightly, Andrew took note of the baseball bat by the front door. You hadn't allowed him any weapons, but were persuaded the bat was just precautionary without being too dangerous. It was still there, leant against the wall, sturdy and reliable.
His nerves calmed slightly, he went to continue with his usual routine and wait for whenever you appeared. He walked to the bathroom at the end of the first room, so he could wash his hands and be free of the germs from outside.
He opened the door and was met with a sight that twisted his stomach. His worst fears confronted him, like a punch to the gut. Andrew stood at the entry way of the door, still not fully open, and tried to process the sight before him. Right infront of him was the white porcelain sink, which was now stained with blood. Crimson stains splattered across the rim of the sink and at the bottom of the basin, a lighter red pooled where clearly it had began to be washed away.
Andrew's feet were rooted to the ground from fear that your mangled body could be on the other side of the door. Bloody, bruised and mutilated from whatever horrendous attack had occurred. There was already too much blood to be a small injury, whatever happened here was bad. Why couldn't he protect you? He'd failed you. Instinctively, he reaches for his gun behind his back. He grips on to nothing of course. He's never felt to vulnerable in his life.
To move into the room, Andrew had to separate you from the equation. Because losing you would be crushing, it would tear down the fragile walls of his life he'd just built with you. If you were gone, he'd have nothing left.
Instead, Pope has to imagine that this is one of his jobs, that he's scouting an area and come across something unexpected. No forced entry, victim knew the attacker. That helps narrow down the list. Blood in the sink, attacker is sloppy and did not clean up. Or they are still in the flat. Given they haven't attacked me yet, they can only be in the bedroom. The victim may still be in this room, or with the attacker. Pope began listing the facts and planning his moves methodically.
Calm and steady now, Pope pushes the door open further. He's met with more blood. It covers the shower, up the walls, dripping down the white tiles in a light red. It stains the shower curtain with ugly streaks and the bottom is dip dyed red. Two plastic gloved hang from the railing, still dripping the pale, diluted blood. Red blotches stain both the floor towel and another that has been left in a crumpled pile on the floor. Fortunately, the victim, is not in this room. Meaning they could still be alive. The only other room is the bedroom.
Pope doubts the attacker had purposfully left the scene like this, as they would have left a huge amount of forensic evidence. They must have heard him enter, and made a quick escape into the bedroom. It's likely they are still here and it's even more likely they know Pope is too. He marches over to the bat, and grips it tight. Before standing up to the door and preparing his attack.
His heart hammers in his chest, he is usually calmer on jobs. But the thought that he still hasn't found your body, that it could still be in the room you share together, makes him sick to his stomach. He grips the bat white knuckled and bounces it around in his hand, testing the weight. Pope decides to creep into the room again, get an idea of the situation, before his attack. For all he knows the attacker could be on the otherside with a gun, pointing it at the door. And if they were, he'd stand no chance. But if you really were dead, the thought makes the pit in his stomach grow, then it wouldn't matter if he died too.
Slowly he twists the knob and edges the door open. He sees the pale, cream walls of your bedroom. They are familiar still, not stained with blood like the bathroom. He pushes the door open further and more of the carpeted floor is revealed. Its a light brown and still seems unscathed. No attacker has jumped out yet. Anticipation pricks at his skin. He can feels the electic tingles in the air, right before a fight.
Cautiously, Pope opens the door some more. When he sees you, a thick lump forms in his throat. It takes a while to realise you are moving. That you are sat up. He had prepared himself to find your body, attacked and mutilated on your shared bedroom floor, that he took him a moment to adjust to you being unharmed. Instead you are sat cross-legged on the floor, looking into the mirror that leans against the wall. You have your ear buds in and are bobbing along to the music. Your hands brush through your hair. Your bright red hair.
Then your head spins towards him, your bright smile blooms on your face the moment you see him. A smile he feared he'd seen for the last time.
"Hey Andy, I didn't hear you come in."
Reality came crashing in with heavy hits, each blow harder than the next. Andrew stands motionless as he processes what he can see.
"Hey, what's wrong?" You get up and walk over to him, your eyes searching to meet his gaze.
"Oh, shit." You suddenly realise. "The bathroom. I'm so sorry, I know it's a mess. There's just something about red dye that just makes the biggest mess. Don't worry I'll clean it up."
You hand reaches out and brushed Andrew's arm. The touch feels distant, like a memory of the touch, a phantom feeling.
"Andy, why do you look so shocked. You don't think I naturally have bright red hair?"
He can't speak. His body feels weak. Like walking down the stairs and missing a couple of steps, his mind feels like he left his body behind and he's not sure where or if he's standing.
"Do you?..."
You voice trails off as you take a better look at the man infront of you. He's been rooted to the spot since you noticed him lingering at the door. His face has gone pale and his shoulders are tense. You look down his body and in one hand he holds tightly to the baseball bat. The bat that he'd spent ages convincing you that you needed it in the flat. He could accept the no gun policy you'd enforced on your shared life. But he'd gone on about the advantages of a bat. That knives weren't useful if you didn't have the skill. And a bat provided both strength and range. He said it was useful for someone with little combat training. But he'd still shown you how to use it as a weapon in numerous lessons. And then the realisation clicked. The bathroom. Stained red from hair dye.
"Oh Andy, I'm so sorry."
Gently you coax the bat out of his iron grip and leave it to fall on the floor. You smooth out the tension in his shoulders before letting his head rest on your shoulder. His head falls down to you in one heavy motion. You pet the back of his hair as you speak.
"I'm okay. I'm here."
You hear him begin to breath properly again, deep, controlled breaths rather than indercernable shallow ones.
"I'm not going to get hurt. I'm not hurt."
He moves voluntarily for the first time since you came up to him. His arms wrap around your waist, holding you so tightly as if he fears you'll drift away. His head buries itself in the crook of your neck.
"I'm safe. I'm safe."
For now, you will stay with him and let him hold you tight for as long as he needs. For next time, you'll clean up the bathroom before he gets home.
Pope saying the sweetest thing imaginable, I'm talking Shakespeare level love language ripped from the deepest part of his soul and you start crying because he's the cutest, he's moved you so much and you love him and he's like "why are you crying? Did I say something wrong?" No Andrew you cute mf, come here 😭
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You always assumed kids would not be something Jack wanted given he’s pushing 50 and the whole thing with his late wife, only to discover that he has a breeding kink/ baby fever
Plz ignore me if this isn’t something you are comfortable with I know it’s very specific
thank you anon! this was perfect!!! i hope i gave your idea justice as i pumped this out pretty quick!!
also sorry i didn’t proofread :(
MDNI 18+
word count: 1.4k
You and Jack returned home from your monthly date night. Before getting out to open your door, Jack had placed his hand on your jaw to guide your glassy eyes to his and pressed a soft deep kiss to your lips. When he pulled away be saw your eyes full lust and want.
“C’mon honey, let’s get you inside” he said with a gravelly voice.
You gave a tipsy smile and nod in return.
Walking you up to the front door, you both managed to keep your hands to yourselves, choosing to spare your neighbors of the sight of your love making.
After getting inside and closing the door, you could barely contain yourself and began kissing up and down Jack’s neck and exposed (god you love it when he leaves a few top buttons undone).
“God Jack you look so fucking good” you whisper, running your hands in the hairs on the back of his neck, trailing your kisses up to meet his lips.
When your lips meet his, Jack groans and melts easily into the kiss. His hands venture from by his side to now squeezing gently at your hips and ass.
“Yea, you like it when your old man is dressed up?” he teases with a smirk.
You bite your bottom lip and give a nod.
“Mmm, well let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you how much I love how you look.”
You both race upstairs, Jack faltering a few times because of his prosthesis.
When you both made it to the bedroom, neither of you wasted anytime and began to undress each other. Once you both were bare, Jack laid you down on the bed before crawling over you.
His hands rubbed up and down your side, “You gonna let me show you how pretty you are baby? Hmm?”
Your cheeks warm, hands go to cover your face at his words, but are quickly stopped by Jack’s right one.
“Look at me pretty girl…whaddya say? Gonna let me love on you?” His hands are now gliding from your sides to circle your nipples.
“Yes” you breathe out.
Jack wastes no time and duck his head to your nipple and begins licking and sucking incessantly before turning his attention to the other. His hands slide down your body to rest between your thighs and begin to rub your clit with his middle and ring finger before sliding his middle finger inside you. He begins to pump in and out of your wet cunt then adding ring finger too.
You gasp at the feeling, Jack’s head lifts to see your face twisted in pleasure. He begins to increase his speed on your pussy while he presses wet open mouthed kisses to your throat.
“God Jack, it feels so fucking good. I need you in me”, your hands begin to reach for his hips.
“You want my cock in you baby?”
He gently slides his fingers out of your opening, gives himself a few pumps, and begins running his tip up and down your pussy, collecting your slick.
He then lines himself up before slowly sliding himself inside. Once he reaches the hilt, he pauses and takes a big deep breath. He looks down at your figure waiting for him, his hands massaging your hips.
“My pretty girl…looking so beautiful, so perfect.”
He begins his pace with a sharp snap of his hips. His pace is slow, enjoying the feel of you around him, while his thrust are deep and powerful, creating a slapping sound that fills the room.
Your legs wrap around his lower back, pushing your feet into him to bring him closer to you. Your hands slide up and down his chest and tummy, loving the feel of his soft old man body on yours.
Feeling you spur him on, made him increase his pace and begin pounding into you.
“Damn, baby your squeezing me so fucking good” Jack groans in your ear and slam even harder into you.
“Fuuuuck Jack it feels so good!” you moan out, you use your soft hand to grab the back of his neck and bring him into a passionate kiss, allowing him to drink in you moans.
Jack slides his hand that was pawing at your hip to slide in between both of your hips and let his thumb rest on your pulsing clit. He eagerly began thumbing it to bring you closer and closer to your orgasm.
You back arches off the bed, “Oh my god Jackie, I’m gonna cum. Fuck i want you to cum with me”
“I’m almost there sweetheart”, Jack increases his pace to bring himself closer to his peak.
“Where d’ya want me cum baby”, Jack asks, remembering that he was to caught up with fucking you to put on a condom not that he minded.
You were babbling beneath him, to cock-drunk to think of your next words.
“Cum inside me Jackie…wanna-fuck, wanna make you a daddy”
As soon as the words fell from your lips it was as if you had woken up. Your eyes widen in realization and feeling Jack stiffen above you made you begin to push him away.
Neither of you had the conversation of children before. You were okay with not having them, assuming Jack wouldn’t want them since he’s 50 and he had already tried for kids with his late wife. But still something inside of you was wanting to see your loving boyfriend be a dad to your own.
You saw how he interacted with children during family get togethers or even the one time you had stopped by the Pitt to drop off food and he was taking care of a 1 year old.
Despite this idea you had built inside you head, it was all false. Jack was obsessed with getting you pregnant, he loved picturing himself filling you up, you waddling with your big round belly, and tits engorged with milk.
The idea of it made him rock hard.
He never shared his perverse feelings in fear that you wouldn’t want kids with him. He’s not naïve, he’s aware of his age. He knows that it’s not typical to have kids with someone in their 50s but he didn’t care. He wanted it all with you.
So, hearing those words come from your lips did make him stiffen, but in shock and happiness, not because he was upset.
He didn’t let you pull him out of you, instead he grabbed your hips so fiercly it could leave bruises. “You want me to put a baby in you? Wanna make me a fuckin’ daddy huh?”
Your wide eyes peered into his to find them filled with need. You nodded slowly.
Jack begins to fuck into you relentlessly, not caring about anything other than pumping you full of his seed.
“I’ll make you a mommy baby”
Jacks lifts your legs to rest on his shoulders, and pushing your knees into your chest into the mating press.
“God you’re squeezing the shit outta me” Jack grunts above you.
Your head is thrown back moaning out anything, too lost within the pleasure he’s bring you.
“Jackie your s’good…want you to cum in me baby-want us to cum together, m’so close jackie”
Jack leans down further stretching you even more, caging you in with his strong beefy arms, using his whole body weight to thrust in you.
“i’m gonna cum baby, you gonna cum with me” he moans into your ear. You nod back, unable to since all of the air has left your body.
“Oh fuck”, suddenly his thrust become more erratic, your pussy spasms around his thick cock as you cum. His dick twitches as he fills you with his warmth.
Jack keeps his cock sheathed inside you as you both come down from your collective high. Massaging your thigh and he evens his breath.
He pulls out of you and inches himself down to be face to face with your pussy, watching as his seed drips out of your pulsing slit. His cock immediately begins to harden seeing his cum pulse out of you.
“I’m gonna have to fuck ya again sweetie, make sure you’re pregnant by the time i’m done. Gonna get you all big and round.”
You look up at him in disbelief as you try to catch your breath, trying to see if there was any hint of joking in his eyes. But his face held no ounce of humor. Something told you that Jack was gonna keep going all night until it finally takes.
in which jack gives you unsolicited advice on vibrators and how to use them.
genre: smut!! 18+ mdni!!!
(a/n: can't sleep, feeling weird. deciding to write to get my mind off things. sorry it's kinda filthy lol what can i say.)
You were running on four hours of sleep and weeks of agonizing physical frustration. So yes, technically, sitting in the breakroom with a tab open to a high rated silicone toy review page wasn't ideal workplace decorum. But you were on your break. Off the clock, tired, frustrated, and researching every available avenue to make something happen.
"That one’s no good."
You froze, every muscle locking up. You slowly turned around to see Jack leaning over, eyeing your phone screen.
Before you could scramble to lock your phone or throw it across the room, Jack gave a casual, unbothered shrug and walked right out the door.
The rest of the night was psychological torture. Back on the floor, Jack acting like he said nothing. Not a smirk. Not a lingering look. Nothing. By the time you clocked out, you were convinced you’d hallucinated the entire breakroom encounter.
…
Two glasses of wine later back at your apartment, unwinding on the couch and feeling comfortably tipsy, your phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Jack: I can make some good recommendations for you.
You snorted into your glass, staring at the screen. The wine gave you a reckless surge of courage, and your thumbs moved before your brain could filter them.
You: you gonna show me how to use it?
His reply came back within seconds.
Jack: Yeah. My place tomorrow?
…
So that’s how you were here. On Jack Abbot’s lap, writhing as his thumb guided a small, buzzy, impossibly effective vibrating bullet directly against your center. His hand was around your hip, holding you steady while his hard length pressed hot against you through the fabric of his sweatpants.
"Told you the other one was overrated." he murmured against your neck, his voice raspy.
You let out a breath, hands clutching his shoulders as you rolled your hips into his palm.
"That good?" Jack said into your skin, tightening his grip on your hip as you squirmed against him. "Need you to come all over my lap, sweetheart."
A/N: No one look at me I'm sweating my ass off wishing it was colder and here we are just a little blurb about taking Popey to the Midwest
~18+ MDNI please~
"Andrew, I don't think you're gonna need all that," you smile, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe of the bathroom.
Pope has his clothes laid out on the hotel bed. A thick coat, gloves, a scarf, and he's even considering those hand warming packets to stick in his pockets, all on top of the thick hoodie he's already wearing.
"Are you kidding me? I saw my breath on the way in," he glances back at you.
You walk up behind him and slide your hands around his midsection, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.
You thought it would be fun to bring Pope back to your hometown for a visit. Show him where you grew up, let him experience the magic of a Midwest winter. But Pope was not built for this. He's being a trooper, strong and stoic as usual, but you can tell he's missing the California sun.
"Don't worry, baby," you say, your lips still pressed into the material of his hoodie, "I'll keep you warm."
"D'you know that skin to skin contact is best for transferring body heat?" he says, tugging on your arm.
You round in front of him, sliding your hands into the pocket of his hoodie. "Yeah?" you raise an eyebrow.
Pope plays with the zipper of your jacket, tugging on it gently. Not enough to drag it down, but enough to imply as much. You wrap your hand around his, gently lowering the zipper down, down, down, until your jacket falls open.
“This weather has you wearing too many clothes,” he mumbles.
“Do something about it,” you say, spurring him further.
And while it's 38 degrees outside with a 25 degree windchill, you're inside, hot and sweaty, with Pope pressed completely against you from behind. He has one hand in a bruising grip on your hip, and the other reaching around between your legs, his dick sliding in and out like it's his job.
Pope buries his face in the crook of your neck, breath hot and kisses wet. You're completely surrounded by him, his voice, his touch, and every gruff, bitten off noise in your ear makes your heart race and your core heat up even more.
You reach behind you, gently scratching at his scalp to bring his face closer.
"See? S'not so bad," you say, breathy and blissful.
Pope pistons his hips inside you a few more times before finding release, your bodies pressed completely together as he empties out inside you.
You're both panting, coming down from your shared high. Instead of pulling out immediately, Pope just wraps his arms tighter around you, pulling you closer, licking salty sweat from your neck.
"Yeah, the cold is fucking great," he grumbles, "as long as we stay in here, like this."
to further my obsession with big dick!pope, can you imagine how crestfallen his face looks before he tells you? he genuinely thinks he’s sending you to the electric chair…
you’ve just gotten home from your first date night as an official couple, and you’re leaning back on the bed watching him. big hand spread across his black boxer briefs, jaw clenching as he pouts & grits his teeth. you reach out your arms to grab at him, and he brings one arm to firmly wrap around your forearm, his other hand applying pressure to his growing bulge.
confused, and always adoring, you look up at him in silent questioning. he seems to chew the words, weave them around in his mouth before saying them.
“i’m…. i’m big, sweetheart.” his veiny arm flexes as he lightly squeezes the bone of your wrist “it’s- it might be a lot. t-too much, i might be too much. i understand if-if you don’t…. want to.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
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Fuck I’m at a fencing tournament and literally a minute after I reblogged this my dad told me that he talked to the point people and I’m probably going to win a medal.
You and Pope have been going for just over two months now and you're head over heals for him. He's quiet and a little awkward but he fascinates you. He's sweet, tender and almost never sleeps. Smurf tells you not to worry about it, that's just how he is. Sometimes though, when he's had a rough day, he'll lay in your lap and doze off for an hour or so.
You never feel more special than in those brief moments.
The two of you have had moments where tensions are high, he kisses you when he drops you off at your place, sometimes he even blushes but he never makes the first move. He never comes inside or deepens your kiss. Which you've been okay with, you understand maybe he needs some warming up to you. Especially since he's only been out of prison a few months longer than you've been together.
You thought maybe he'd take you the night he came clean about his wrap sheet; you told him you didn't care and he was surprised, you kissed - a lot. And then he got called away for some family thing. You've just been patiently waiting for it.
Sometimes you wonder if he truly likes you or is interested in dating you. The one time you brought it up you were honest with Pope, you told him you weren't sure of his feelings for you and maybe you should see other people.
Pope simply said, "I'll kill him." with a straight face and twitching lips.
"Who?" You had asked, taken aback and a little startled.
"Whoever 'other people' is." He had stated with furrowed brows, "I won't see anyone else." He continued, standing extra close to you so you'd realize and pull him into a hug.
"So - you do like me?" You asked to clarify, blushing some as you reached for him.
"Of course, I do. You - You're my girlfriend." He had gotten a little unsure when he said the girlfriend part after hearing your suggestion. So, you wrapped him up in a tight hug and hesitated to bring it up again.
Until today.
Pope had just gotten back from a job this morning, a little banged up but nothing more than usual. He took you on one of the nicest dates you've ever been on. Everything had been perfect, the restaurant, the food, the necklace he gifted to you (which you didn't even bother asking where he got it from).
He holds your hand tight as he guides you up the few steps to your front door. When he pulls away to say goodbye you don't let him, squeezing his hand and pulling him to your chest as you lean back on the door.
"What?" Pope asks, looking a little startled at your quickness.
You yank him against you, slamming your lips to his for a heated, passionate kiss but he doesn't get there right away. You deepen it yourself, licking his bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it. He shudders and leans into you, his hands hovering tentatively over your waist.
He's nervous and unsure but he can't deny he enjoys the way you feel on him. He likes the way you smell and how gentle your eyes are on him - he's not used to that.
"Touch me." You plead, pulling him impossibly closer as you writhe into him. He's still so rigid and stiff in your hold.
"We're outside." He mutters, looking at you with that beautiful, plain face of his.
You huff, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt before spinning around to swing the door open. You drag him inside with you, pushing him against the door once it's closed. You practically pounce on him. He's still hesitant. You're throwing yourself at him and he just - stands there, letting it happen.
It pisses you off.
You let out an exasperated sigh, slamming your hands into his chest with a frustrated grunt. "What the hell is your problem, Pope?" You raise your voice, finally feeling worked up enough to say something.
"I-I don't have a problem." He stutters, grabbing your wrists to hold them between you two. "Please, don't do that again." He's quieter but you feel the request in his grip.
"Why don't you want to fuck me?" You ask, still animated but you change your tone when you see him flinch. You cover your mouth with your fingers for a second before trying a softer approach. "I-If sex isn't - you know - your thing, that's fine. Just tell me, please. So, I don't have to worry or wonder."
Pope steps closer to you now, a single hand reaching to encapsulate yours.
"It's not that I don't want to … I don't always know the best time for things." He's quiet, curt and honest.
"You've just been waiting for the right time?" You ask, incredulously. "It's not the right time when I change in front of you before we go swimming?"
"I assume you actually want to swim." He shrugs innocently, which is not a fitting expression for a man so gruff and criminal.
"Or the time I tried to go down on you at Daren's after hours?"
"It's dirty there." He cringes.
His answers make you giggle, your heart warming in your chest at how genuine he is. You rub your thumb over his palm affectionately. "I'm sorry I flipped out on you."
"It's okay." He nods firmly, squeezing your hand back.
"So, - Sex is your thing?" You ask sheepishly. "You don't just think I'm unattractive or something?"
Pope nods down to his pants where his length strains against the dark denim. "You are very attractive." He assures you.
You stifle a giggle at his gesture, taking both of his hands in yours and brushing your nose against his. "Does now feel like a good time?" You whisper, looking down to his lips with want. Pope nods his head 'yes' slowly, looking at your lips too.
You nod back as if to make sure, watching his puppy dog eyes as well as his lips. He nods again as your faces inch closer, noses brushing, eye lashes fluttering and hearts pounding. Both of you are still a tad stiff as your lips meet, it's slow to start but you feel each other out. You guide his hands to your sides before caressing his face to keep him close.
You hum happily as your lips meld together and you find a good rhythm. His hand don't move from their tight grip on your sides as you slowly step back. You make it all the way to the couch, trying to pull him on top of you but he doesn't go. Instead, you both sit down facing each other, your lips staying connected the whole time.
You try not to rush it but if you let Pope lead you worry you'll never get there. You dance your fingers down his neck, inside the tight collar of his shirt. You tempt him with your tongue again and this time he lets you in. You take this as your sign to go further, working open the buttons on his shirt.
A little moan escapes you when his tongue returns the gesture, warmth flooding your belly. He gets more stern with his kiss, encouraging you to shove his shirt off his shoulders so he's bare for you. Your hands drag down his chest, his large pecks filling your grasp happily.
His fingers slowly slide down your sides and then back up, the fabric bunching up as his palms engulf your skin. The both of you let out a whiny sound because of the impact, your body sliding closer to chase more. He's slow and methodical, kissing you deeply, enough to make you warm and needy.
You run your hand down his muscular belly, passing his belt to take a hold of the large bulge in his pants. Pope gasps and jolts, pressing his forehead to yours as he slides you closer with his hands on you.
"Can I?" He asks, distracting you from where your hand is to pull your blouse over your head and off.
"You don't have to ask, Andy." You whisper, lifting your arms up for him. He blushes, looking away from your face as he folds and sets your blouse aside. You bite your lip as you watch him, feeling so endeared.
When he's finished you lean back in for his mouth, guiding his hands to touch your breasts as you fumble with his belt and zipper. Pope is as stiff as ever, watching your nimble hands with tight lips and flushed cheeks. You pull his belt out of the loops, his jeans open wide as you start to tug them off his hips.
"I got it - Take your bra off." Pope interjects curtly, his chest heaving while he stands. You nod enthusiastically, smiling with your teeth because you love that he's speaking up. You reach around and unclasp your bra, throwing it at his head once its off.
You bite your lip and cover your chest, watching Pope pull your bra off his face, a tiny smirk gracing his face, you make sure to memorize it. He stands in just his boxers before you, the shadow on his leg looking much more intimidating with one less layer over it. You gulp.
Pope walks towards you, grabbing your arms to uncover you and make you stand with him. He leans in to kiss you, his need seeping into your mouth as you raise up on your toes to get closer. You shuffle your arms out of his hold, returning the kiss with all you have as you force his palms over your bare breasts.
Your heart pounds with excitement from his body heat, his touch. He slowly palms your breasts, groaning into your mouth at the feeling. Your entire body feels red hot, goosebumps all over your skin as he drags his rough hands over your taught nipples.
"Please." You whisper, practically panting after pulling back from the kiss to beg.
"What, doll?" Pope asks earnestly, his eyes heavy on your face, searching for your words before you even say them.
"Take me, Andy. Make me yours." You're quiet and sultry, pressing your tits into his hands and ghosting your lips over his.
"A-Are you sure?" He hesitates, unsure of his self control once he starts with you.
You've become incredibly impatient and needy, solidified by the whine that leaves your mouth. "Andreeewww." You coo, snatching his wrist and pushing his hand under your skirt, the fabric rides up over his arm as you press his flat fingers to your bare cunt.
He gasps on contact, your hot, slick cunt taking is breath away. He lays his forehead to yours, his eyes pinched shut as you hold his hand to you. "Fuck!" He hisses, his voice so rough, not like anything you've heard from him before. "Where are your panties?" Pope grunts out, pressing his fingers harder against you, enough that you feel you can let go of his hand and touch his face.
"I didn't wear any - been waiting for you to take me all night long, Andy." You speak to him softly, your voice raspy from the deep breaths you keep having to take. You caress Pope's cheeks, rubbing your nose back and forth on his as you try to resist the urge to buck your hips. He whines again, the sound giving you full body chills and this time you can't stop the way your hips rut towards him. The movement spreads your arousal over his fingers and he snaps from the sweet sensation.
He slams his mouth to yours, a free hand clamping down on your neck to make sure you can't pull away from his kiss. In the same moment he slides his middle finger into your eager, wet entrance. You're so slick he sinks all the way to his last knuckle in one movement. You cry out into his mouth, trying to pull back to breathe but Pope forces his mouth back on yours, swallowing every sound.
His finger dances around inside you, like he's exploring. He touches you at every depth and angle he can find, paying attention to how you react and making note of what's good and what's great. You cling to him for dear life, your hips feeling weak from the pressure built up there.
"Good? It's good?" He pants, pulling back just enough to see your eyes as he starts fucking a second finger inside you. All the sudden his hunger and want are on the outside of him, instead of hidden somewhere you couldn't reach. He's feral looking, like he's on the brink of snapping again and lord knows what'll happen then.
"Yeah, yeah." You nod frantically, pawing at his hips for balance.
"Yeah?" He asks, smiling at you like he's proud of himself. You love it. So, you nod again with enthusiasm, leaning in for more kisses as you turn him and shove him back onto the couch.
You're in his lap in an instant, guiding his hand back under your skirt to resume his work. As you straddle his lap you comb your fingers through his hair, kissing his forehead and cheeks while riding his fingers. His free hand gropes your ass and forces you to bounce at a quick, messy pace on him.
You grab a small handful of hair from the back of Pope's head, guiding his face down to your free hanging breasts. At first he just lays his face against one, rubbing his mouth and nose across you as he transitions to the other side. He practically mauls your tits while forcing you down on his fingers and you've never been wetter, never been more turned on.
Eventually, you coax Pope into latching his mouth around one of your nipples. He sucks gently, making you arch deeper into his touch. He laps you up with a wet tongue, you can see his spit glistening in the dim light. You start to lose your sanity when he blow on your sensitive bud, the sharp cooling sensation making you jump in his hold.
"A-Andrew, touch my clit too - you'll make me come." You tell him, sounding desperate but his eyes light up. He uses his free hand to rip your skirt up over your head, you help him to speed it up. Once you're fully naked he guides your other tit to his mouth as he starts circling your bundle of nerves.
It takes a couple of swirls for him to find the spot but once he does he touches you expertly. It took all of five minutes for him to discover your sweet spots, it's like he had a cheat sheet somewhere in his brain for your body.
"Please, come for me, doll. I wanna watch so bad." Pope whispers, begging you like it's a secret. All of the stimulation from him has your climax building deep in your core. Your hips buck into Pope's fingers and it doesn't faze him at all, he continues to pound into you unwavering. He kisses you so deeply you realize instantly that it's never been like that before. "Are you close?" He asks when you tense up in his hold.
"H-Harder, Andy, please." You beg, guiding his mouth back to one of your tits. He listens to your request, keeping a steady pattern on your clit while pounding his fingers into you with more force. His big doe eyes stare at your face so intently, waiting for you to crest.
You can barely get the words out when you try to tell him you're coming, he catches on regardless. Pope kisses you through it, not changing a thing about his movements until you're squirming and shoving his hands away. He doesn't give in at first, making you squeal before you truly get free.
He grabs you by the waist, spinning your bodies until you're laying on your back, long ways on the couch and he's hovering between your legs. He slowly grinds himself against you, hesitating to go further.
"Your boxers are still on." You whisper, tugging at the elastic.
"I know." Pope grunts, grinding himself harder when you wrap your legs around him. "Do you have a condom?"
"Don't need one." You rush out, yanking hard on his boxers to expose him. Immediately you wrap a firm hand around him, pumping slow but tight. Pope huffs out a few heavy breaths, his elbows and knees quivering from your touch.
"Y-You sure?" He stutters.
"Pope, I swear if you don't just fuck me - I'm gonna go crazy." You're stern but you might as well be begging. You just want to have sex with your boyfriend after a romantic date, is that so crazy?
He stares at your face for a few seconds, you can see the hunger returning to his exterior. In a singular moment - he snaps. He grabs your knees and pushes them up to get a better angle, spitting directly on your pussy before swirling his tip around in it to tease you.
The warm sensation make you whimper, your hands in fists by your head as your arch for him. Curse words fall from your lips, mixing with other whiny sounds. They turn loud and guttural when he slams into you, taking up a quick, harsh pace as soon as he feels you.
Pope can't help himself, you suck him in so tight - it makes him lose control. He leans down, pressing your shins to his chest, folding you up to reach your lips while still pounding into you. The angle is painful at first, not used to anyone reaching that deep inside of you. But you adjust quickly, soaking up the way his mouth feels on yours.
"Jesus christ, doll. Your cunt is- it's… fuck, perfect." Pope grunts out, his voice gravelly and rough as he slams himself into you over and over. He's knocked the wind out of you with the force, you gasp for air, looking up at his with glossy eyes and parted lips. "Look at you, begged for my cock just to go dumb as soon as you get it." He teases, nudging your nose and giving your thighs a good squeeze.
You gulp, trying to wet your throat and tongue. "M'fine!" You gasp out, digging your nails into his biceps for leverage. You're determined to stay aware and keep your eyes open, focused on his.
Pope chuckles a little, kissing your red hot cheeks before straightening his spine. He looks down at you with a menacing gaze, fingers burning into the skin of your thighs as he uses his leverage to rock your body into him.
"So, so pretty like this." He mumbles, "Gonna have you like this every night," His voice gives you chills, you blush all the way down your chest, smilling up at him as your brain slowly starts to fog over. You fight it off, blinking and biting your lip until it stings.
"You coulda had me like this all along, Andy - didn't have to wait so long." You whine, reaching up to caress his chest and stomach, your words being forced out of you because of his pace. He hasn't let up and ounce and you're starting to wander if you can keep taking it.
He growls, forcing your knees down and pulling out of you in a fast motion. His large hands clamp down on your sides, flipping you over onto your stomach before settling his knees on either side of yours.
You let out a few whimpery sounds as he man handles you, forcing a deep arch in your lower spine before sinking back into you. He's even deeper than before and it makes you scream. You hear Pope chuckle again, clearly satisfied with himself. His chest comes down over your back, his arm slipping under your chin until he's got you in a headlock.
"You were worth the wait, doll." He grunts, kissing your temple at the same time he tightens his bicep around your throat. "Now be quiet and take me, gonna make you mine, huh?" He taunts and you nod with enthusiasm, whispering 'yes' a few times over. "Yeah? Want me to fill you up?"
"Yes, yes, yes Andy, please,"
"The first time you ever get my cock and you already want it?" He continues his taunting, his voice makes you mind spin as he destroys your pussy. You can barely get air in your lung with his taught muscle pressed to your neck, you start to feel a little tingly.
"Please," You hiss, gasping for air.
Pope feels your pussy get slicker the more you struggle to breathe and he can't help that it riles him up. He tightens his arm more, pressing his cheek to the side of your head as he continues his violent, messy thrusts.
"Make me feel so special, doll. I'll give you what you want - gonna fuck this little cunt 'til I come, yeah? - You'll get all of me." He's definitely feral now, his voice raspy and deeper than you've ever heard it.
You're tingly all over, your brain fuzzy as you take what you boyfriend gives you. It's blissful, his painful thrusts throb through your limps until it feels like pleasure. You're so wet you feel the mess on your ass and thighs.
Pope doesn't mind, in fact it spurs him on.
"Cross your goddamn legs." He demands, growling in your ear. He lets up his hold around your neck enough for you to hear him and listen. You slide one of your knees under the other, feeling yourself tighten around him. The sound he makes gives you chills, you shiver as it reverberates through your skin. "That's it - fuck!" Pope grunts.
It only takes a few more thrusts before he's filling you full, he moans through it, close to your ear, nibbling at your sensitive skin. He groans and says sweet things but you can't hear him, you're still so fuzzy from all the brutal sensations you've just received.
Pope collapses on top of you, elbows by your temples as you let your head sink back into the pillows. He doesn't pull out right away, letting his cock get flaccid and slip out on it own as he cages you beneath his spent body.
You don't mind, his warmth and weight soothe you as you come back down to earth. You kiss the skin of his arms you can reach, his skin burning hot against you. You both struggle to catch your breath but he cocoons you underneath him until you do.
"Baby doll, - fuck, I-" He huffs, his voice barely there. He slides off your back and to the side, encouraging you to turn so you two are facing each other. His hefty arm drapes over you, keeping you cuddled close to his chest as he looks down at you. "Are you okay?" He asks, his deep eyes searching yours.
You nod your head vigorously, "M'never going two months without you again." You sigh, kissing his chin as you watch him smirk. It's small and subtle but adorable, you lean up to peck his lips. "Stay the night please, Pope." You mutter, tracing your fingers over his back to see him shiver when you hit his spine just right.
"I'm not going anywhere, doll." He promises, cuddling you close.
You're both quiet for a few moments, hugging each other tight. You nuzzle close and he welcomes you, his body still stiff while somehow drawing you in. Maybe it's because you're still hazy, or because you're cock-drunk but you can't help the way your heart pounds, even after catching your breath.
"Andy, I- I think,"
"What doll?" He softly encourages.
"I think I love you." You whisper, burying your face into his warm, bare chest. You nuzzle even closer when you realize how comfy his pecks are.
"You're just saying that because you're foggy from the sex." Pope chuckles, shaking his head above yours. It seems as if he thinks you're joking and you guess you can't blame him. He's not used this sort of thing - that's what makes it all so special.
"I love you too." He whispers a few moments later, kissing the top of your head, huffing a little when your messy hair tickles his nose.
Your mind comes back to you all the way and you realize just how lucky you are. Your boyfriend may not be the perfect guy but he's perfect for you. You never want to leave his arms - you never want to get off his cock either.
You have a feeling after tonight though, you won't have to worry about that anymore.
even with robby as the tougher constant of your boyfriends, they seldom punish you. aside from the fact that you’re always on your best behavior, they both have sweet spots for you that are hard to shake no matter how you act, and they tend to give you a pass when you do so in a bratty way.
that is, of course, unless you break the golden rule: no using your own credit card.
seriously, the two couldn’t even grasp why you still had a job to begin with, let alone why you thought it humorous to irritate them by paying for your own things. if you were on your own and needed money, you knew to simply ask one of them to send some or to take one of their cards in the first place. point. blank. period.
today, though, you’d absolutely tested your luck, absolutely done it on purpose, and now? you were about to pay the consequences, pun completely intended.
it wasn’t your action of buying new clothes with your own money alone that had you currently trapped between robby and jack, jack in front as he thrusted hard into your mouth, and robby behind as he fucked into your pussy, all while they went for your fourth orgasm and counting. it was your bratty remarks when they’d both been equally annoyed at the news that’d done you in.
“i can pay for stuff, too,” “you’re both so annoying,” and the fucking cherry on top, the last before robby had all but dragged you to the bedroom— “i don’t need you doting on me all the time!”
so as you whined and pleaded for the two men with questionably high stamina for their age to give you a break, you were met with things like “you asked for this,” and “you can take it.”
“please, please, i said m’sorry,” you whined after pulling off jack’s cock, spit connecting your lips to his length. neither of them had cum just to prove a point, but had brought you over the edge multiple times to overstimulate you all over again. “i won’t talk like that again, i promise!”
“don’t know, sweetheart. finding it hard to believe,” jack hummed, running his thumb over your now swollen lips. “can’t be a brat and not expect any consequences.”
“please? i—agh!” you tried to continue your plea, though it proved difficult with robby ruthlessly pounding into your walls. ever the meaner of the two, he’d hardly said a word since this all began—only muttered little insults of how slutted out you were on his cock, how dumb he wanted you by the end of this.
“stop talking,” robby grunted from behind you, a harsh slap landing on your already raw cheek. the amount of spanks he’d delivered since he started to fuck you was criminal, and you knew you wouldn’t be walking straight after this.
“jesus, brother. you’re just plain cruel,” jack chuckled condescendingly, and yet like he was the angel in the scenario, he pulled you back onto his cock, letting you gag around it with nonchalance.
“deserves it, doesn’t she? talking to us like that,” robby tutted. “s’only right she’s punished in return.”
“looks prettier when she’s not talking, anyway. ain’t that right, sweetheart?” jack cooed with a small tap to your cheek. all you could do was whimper around his dick while he shoved it down your throat, tears stinging your eyes.
robby let out a breathy chuckle, smacking your ass again. “fuuuck, you’re clenching so hard, baby. this what gets you off, huh? being treated like a fucking whore?”
that little insult only put you embarrassingly closer to the edge, because as overstimulated as you were, you only need mutter your safe word and the two of them would stop. yet you hadn’t, had no obvious interest in doing so, and the worst part? they both knew it, too.
“yeah, that’s our girl. a slut through and through,” jack chided. he had his fist in your hair while the other laid little smacks against your cheek. “keep your eyes right here, babydoll.”
you did exactly as told, wanting to please despite being punished. you kept your eyes fixed on jack while he used your throat for his own pleasure, not letting up until you were drooling around his cock.
“there you go, pretty girl. mhm, thaaat’s right, s’all you're good for, isn’t it?” jack hummed. robby let out a sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle, likely nodding his agreement from behind you.
“she can brat all she wants,” robby said with another sharp smack to your ass. “all she need’s a little cock and she’s right back in her place.”
you couldn’t hold back anymore.
between robby’s cock driving into your pussy and jack’s filthy words, you were coming for a fifth time around the former’s large cock, the sound muffled by the latter’s. you kept your eyes on jack all the while just as told, and that had his own orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave. he didn’t pull out for even a second as he blew his load; in fact, he only shoved you further down his cock.
“there’s our perfect slut. take every drop, baby. don’t waste a thing,” jack grunted. you had no choice but to oblige, letting his salty cum soak your tongue and fill your throat.
robby slowly withdrew himself from inside you without overstimulating you this time, seemingly over your punishment.
“see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” jack cooed with your cheek cupped in his palm. “now, how about a proper orgasm this time?”
“not so fast,” robby said. you gasped as he slotted his still hard cock between your cheeks, pushing just the tip past your weeping hole. “you want a nice orgasm, then beg for it.”
“robby,” you whimpered, turning back to face him. “please, please, i already learned my lesson. y- you can be gentle now, right?”
“huh. can i? dunno. . .” robby hummed like he was actually thinking about it. he continued to tease you with just the tip of his cock, reveling in how worked up it was making you. “i’m not convinced you’re really sorry.”
“i’m so sorry!” you squeaked pathetically. of the both of them, you weren’t surprised he was the one dragging your punishment on. “i’ll be good now. swear it.”
“huh,” he said again, sliding all the way inside you then pulling out just as quickly. “thoughts, brother?”
except jack was just as cruel under robby’s influence. “you know, mikey, you might be right.”
you whined in defeat as robby continued to tease you, now sliding his hands over your sore ass.
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Warnings: romance, unspoken tension, soft kissing, from friends of friends to lovers dynamics, fluff, self-worth Issues, kissing.
Summary: What starts as quiet companionship slowly unravels into something much deeper.
A/N he looks so good in that GIF wtf
Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction and written solely for entertainment purposes.
🎀 Based on this request 🎀
You pushed Deran's bar door open.
"Deran, please tell me you're not out of lemonade, I'm—" You cut yourself off, stopping mid-stride.
It wasn't Deran standing behind the counter.
It was Andrew.
He was scrubbing a drink stain. Hearing the door, he stiffened slightly, his eyes darted up to meet yours.
"Oh," you said, tossing your bag onto a high stool. "Hey, Andrew. I thought Deran was closing tonight."
"He... had something to do, and I can't clean tomorrow," Andrew said and paused his scrubbing. "Bar is closed, you know?"
"I know, I just got off a brutal ten hour shift and needed five minutes before heading back to my apartment," you said with a sigh, rolling your shoulders to work out a knot. "Do you mind if I just sit here for a little? I won't get in your way."
Andrew looked at you, his eyes scanning your tired face.
"It's fine," he said as he walked into the kitchen. "You can stay."
"Thanks." You smiled.
For a few minutes, the only sound was the sound of his hands working. Most people found silence around Andrew Cody intimidating, but you’d known the Cody family long enough through Deran to know better.
Andrew was a man of few words, but he was grounded, precise, and surprisingly thoughtful.
"Rough day?" Andrew asked quietly, trying to break the silence.
"You have no idea," you chuckled, leaning your chin in your hand. "Every customer today seemed to have agreed on being as difficult as humanly possible. I think I lost half my brain cells by noon."
"People are noisy," he offered. "Don't know when to turn it off."
"Exactly," you agreed, brightening up. "That's why I came here. And it's a good thing you're here. You're the only one who actually respects quiet."
Andrew’s hands paused and he cleared his throat. "Yeah. Well. Quiet's good."
He turned back to the counter, reached for a stack of clean towels beside you, and his fingers brushed against yours for a moment. A sudden surge of static electricity seemed to pass between you.
Andrew quickly withdrew his hand, his shoulders tensing again as a faint blush crept up the back of his neck. He turned his back to you to wipe down the prep table, his movements a little more rigid than before.
"So," you began gently, watching him work, "did Deran leave you with all the cleaning duty, or are you just being nicer to his bar than he is?"
"He doesn't clean the grease traps right," Andrew said. "Leaves 'em sticky. Bugs get in."
"Good thing you're here, I reiterate. He'd probably let the place burn down before he deep cleaned a grease trap."
Andrew turned his head slightly, giving you a half smile. "Probably."
Then, he stood for a second, rubbing the back of his neck, seemingly searching for what to say next.
He wasn't used to small talk, especially not with you; not when every time you smiled at him, he felt his heart beat faster and he didn't exactly know what to do with that feeling.
"You... wanted something to drink? You said something about lemonade," he asked as he gestured vaguely toward the bar. "I think we have some pink lemonade left. Or water."
"A cold glass of pink lemonade would actually save my night," you said softly.
He nodded quickly, took a tall glass, and filled it with ice before going to the kitchen to get the lemonade pitcher. He offered it to you, careful not to touch your fingers this time, though his eyes remained fixed on your face as you took a long sip.
"Good?" he asked.
"Really good, oh my," you nodded.
"Deran will be here soon," Andrew said quietly, his eyes dropping to the polished surface of the counter. "He went to pick up something. Should be back any minute."
You set the glass down, tracing the condensation on the side with your index finger. "I'm not really in a rush for him to get back, you know?"
Andrew blinked. "He’s got the keys to the back room. If you needed something from his office-"
"Andrew," you interrupted gently, catching his gaze and holding it. "I like your company. You know that, right?"
The words seemed to surprise him. Andrew froze completely, his hand still resting on the counter. His eyes widened just enough for you to see the genuine shock behind them.
"My... company?" he repeated, almost a whispering. He looked at you like he was trying to figure out if you were pulling a joke, scanning your face for any sign of insincerity.
"Yeah. Yours," you smiled with honesty.
Andrew shook his head slightly, a furrow forming between his brows as he looked down at his own knuckles. "I don't... You don't have to say that to be polite."
"I'm not being polite."
"It's just... Weird to hear that," He cleared his throat, struggling to find the right words. "You are Deran’s friend. He is... easy to talk to. People... people like people like him. Not my company." He paused, his jaw tightening slightly.
"Well, they're wrong," you said and you were dead serious. "Do you know that If I have to choose between all of you, I'd choose you? Every single time. I love Deran but he's too much sometimes."
Andrew stared at you, utterly motionless. For a second, it felt like the entire room held its breath. Andrew’s mind was clearly racing, trying to process what he’d just heard.
"Me?" he rasped out.
He swallowed hard as a flush creep up his neck into his cheeks.
"Yeah, you, Andrew," you confessed softly, giving him a shy smile.
Andrew opened his mouth, but made no sound. His hands trembled on the counter before he withdrew them, leaving them at his sides, as if trying to control a sudden feeling he hadn't felt in a long time.
He looked away for a brief second, a helpless smile breaking through his face before he looked back at you.
"Okay, that's... nice," he admitted softly.
After that night, your days turned into a something you didn't know you needed.
It started with small things: you dropping by as he was finishing up, or Andrew hanging in the bar long enough after your shift just in case you walked through the door.
Then it was quiet late night drives along the coast after picking you up from work, sitting side by side in his truck, watching the dark waves roll in without the need to fill every second with noise.
With Andrew, everything felt deliberate, real and honest.
Those quiet drives and stolen moments at closing time slowly redefined everything between you.
What had started as comfortable friendship had shifted into something far quietly blooming under the surface.
Neither of you explicitly labeled it; it was written instead in the lingering touch of his hand as he passed you a glass of pink lemonade, the way his jaw softened whenever you walked into the room, and the rare smiles he saved for you.
You found yourself looking forward to his presence more than anyone else's, while Andrew silently guarded his growing feelings, convinced that someone like you could never truly look at him that way.
You began noticing the way his eyes tracked your every movement, and Andrew began to realize that your frequent visits weren't just about passing time in an empty bar.
You were both tiptoeing around a secret that neither wanted to ruin, yet neither could suppress for much longer.
It was a slow dance between two people who had seamlessly fallen from comfortable companions into being completely undone by one another.
Tonight, the bar was closing after a long day. You were sitting on top of the stainless steel prep counter in the back kitchen, swinging your legs casually while Andrew moved around the small space, putting away the last of the rags. You planned to have breakfast together tomorrow morning so he had to close the bar clean tonight.
Even after days of seeing each other, there was still an nervous energy between you two.
He finished and walked over, stopping between your knees. He looked up at you, his eyes scanning your face with that intense gaze that used to intimidate people, but now just made your pulse race.
"Deran asked me earlier if you are always coming around for him or for the free pink lemonade," Andrew said softly. "Said you never used to stick around this much after closing."
You tilted your head, watching him waiting for your answer.
"Maybe I only come for you," you murmured, letting the words drift softly between you.
Andrew froze.
"You what?" he rasped out.
A smile tugged at your lips.
You didn't break eye contact.
"You heard me, Andrew Cody."
The air between you grew thick, charged with tension. Andrew looked at you, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. He swallowed hard as his gaze dropped to your lips before snapping back to your eyes.
"Do you want me?" he asked, whispering, rough with exposed vulnerability.
You let your eyes soften, leaning forward, bringing your face closer to his.
"Maybe," you whispered back, teasing, but with enough heat in your voice to leave no real doubt.
That single word shattered whatever restraint Andrew had been clinging to.
He leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours with hungry intensity.
"Maybe, huh?" He whispered with a raspy voice and an exhale escaped him. His hands came up to frame your face, his palms were warm and trembling just a tiny bit against your cheeks.
The kiss was hard and possessive, his lips were firm, moving against yours with desperation.
You let out a sigh into his mouth, your hands flying up to wrap around his neck, tangling your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck.
At your response, Andrew let out a rough sound. One of his hands slid down from your cheek to cup the back of your neck, his fingers tightening gently to hold you right where he wanted you, while his other hand gripped your waist, pulling you so close there wasn't an inch of air left between you.
He kissed you deeper, his tongue parting your lips, taking control in a way that set your skin on fire. Every touch was heavy and deliberate.
To Andrew, you weren't just someone passing through.
In the dark mess of his life, having you here, choosing him, wanting him, felt like a miracle he was holding onto with everything he had.
Pairing: andrew pope cody x girlfriend!reader
Warnings: fluff, established relationship.
The Orange Peel Theory is a relationship concept suggesting that a partner's willingness to perform small, unprompted acts of service is a strong indicator of their care, attentiveness, and overall emotional safety within the relationship
The California sun was doing its best to bake everyone alive, even with the constant splashing coming from the pool.
It was a quiet day at the Cody house, which just meant no one was currently bleeding or planning a heist in the kitchen.
You were lounged on a deck chair, the heat making you fee lazy. In your lap sat a stubborn navel orange. You’d been picking at the skin for a minute, but between your sunscreen slicked fingers and a lack of nails, you were losing the battle.
Without looking up, you felt a presence shift beside you.
Andrew.
He just sat there on the edge of the lounger, his eyes fixed on the water where J and Deran were arguing over something.
You didn’t even have to ask. You simply nudged your hand toward him, the orange resting in your palm.
His hand moved automatically. Andrew’s fingers were moving in seconds. He stripped the rind away in a few perfect spirals, his thumb digging in just enough to clear the pith without bruising the fruit.
He kept his gaze on the horizon of the backyard, his jaw tight in that way it always was, surveying the perimeter like he was expecting a strike team.
But his touch with you? Quiet. Attentive. Grounded.
Within seconds, he was nudging your hand back. The orange was perfectly cleaned, split into two neat halves, and placed back into your palm.
"Thanks, baby," you murmured, popping a slice into your mouth.
He finally looked at you then. His eyes softened, just a fraction, the kind of look he saved only for the people he’d decided were worth protecting.
It was his version of a love poem. He didn't need to be told you were struggling; he just saw a need and fixed it before it could become an inconvenience.
"Too much sun," he said. "Go inside soon."
"I will," you promised, reaching out to offer him a slice.
He leaned in, his frame blocking out the glare of the afternoon sun and shielding you entirely from the rest of the backyard.
His lips caught yours in a slow kiss that tasted faintly of citrus and salt. It was deliberate and grounding, his hand coming up to rest gently against the back of your neck.
When he finally pulled away completely, he took the orange slice from your fingers with a smirk, his fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary.
He ate the fruit, the two of you sitting in a small pocket of peace while the rest of the Cody brothers moved loudly around you.
He was a dangerous man but he was the man who made sure you never had to break the skin of an orange yourself.
-'🖤⛓ *.‧₊˚
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