cannot stop thinking about pope cody with his three teenage boys (who, yes, are just a variation of andrew, craig & deran) who back talk their mom (you) one time and if goes a little something like this:
"jesus fucking christ, the laundry isn't going to explode if i don't do it right now, god damn, mom." your middle chirps.
"she's on one, today." your oldest shakes his head.
"did that shit last week anyways, it's fine." your youngest flops on the couch and grabs the controller from his brother, before they start arguing amongst themselves.
you can barely blink before pope is storming in the house and upstairs to their rooms (yes those are bedrooms that pope, craig & deran used to sleep in when they lived with smurf), ripping every electronic device out of the wall, tossing them down the stairs.
stomping back down the stairs he stops in the living room and yanks that console from below the tv.
"let's get something crystal fuckin' clear, you three will not disrespect your momโmy wifeโin my house. do you understand me? get your school shit and go to your rooms, now." pope is raising his voice as the boys stare at him stupidly.
those gaming consoles are being tossed in the pool and/or being smashed w his fucking sledge hammer btw, and pope is about to spend the rest of the evening catering to you as an apology because he cannot believe his boys believed for one second they could speak to their mom that way.
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pope cody just needs his sweet babygirl to be perched in his lap, smoothing her thumb over the permanently wrinkled furrow between his brows. his hands white knuckling the edge of the arm rests.
"won't go away no matter how much you do that," he protests dryly.
"just trying to help you relax, andrew." you sit back a little, your weight sinking onto his hips.
"m'relaxed." he mumbles as his eyes close.
you shake your head and roll your eyes as you continue smoothing the deep set wrinkles with one hand, the free one tangling in his curls.
pope feels his breathing even out and settles further into the couch.
truthfully, thus far into your relationship, you'd never seen him so mellowed out.
craig and deran are watching from the kitchen, craig laughs as a beer bottle is tipped to his lips, "pussy magic."
deran takes a drink and looks over at craig, "yea, i still don't get it."
boydad!pope who's boys are gagging and putting on a real show of theatrics when they find out their mom is having a baby.
"gross, dude, we don't need to know that you can still lay pipe." your middle child looks at pope.
they were grossed out at first, but as soon as that baby comes along, those attitudes pope had been whipping into shape fixed themselves real quick.
when your sweet baby girl arrived, it was understood by all three of your boys that their job in the house was to make your life easier and protect the two of you with their lives.
still firing missiles in his 40's...and baz said no one would ever wanna have kids with him. yea fucking right.
i miss the og noir. my sweet deadly delicate baby who would certainly sit next to me during a board meeting at vought tower, scribbling his thoughts and drawing little pictures for me.
pope cody who tries so hard to be human-boyfriend like and just wants his love to be happy. meanwhile you; perfectly content just sitting in comfortable silence with him sometimes, staring at him and connecting the dots of all his freckles. meeting him where he's at is all he's ever wanted from anyone.
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content warning: 18+. explicit sexual content. i am not your mommy you are responsible for your media consumption. mdni. !dubcon!(both parties are tipsy), unprotected penetrative sex, exbabydaddy!shane, pregnancy, breeding, angst if u squint, shane is kind of manipulative here?
a/n: happy mother's day to all the moms who love shane walsh, me fuckin' too girl.
thanks for looking.
taglist: @final-sights
five in the afternoon. the hot georgia sun, beating down on the parking lot, your skin dampened with a sheen of sweat.
shane's big truck pulling into the parking lot next to you. pushing off the side of your car you wave at your son through the back window.
shane exits the vehicle and opens the rear driver's side door to unbuckle the squealing toddler from the back seat. mop of curls on his head, just like his daddy's is when it's grown out. the same big brown eyes.
"dinner and bath is all done, he's ready to chill and hit the hay at bedtime." shane reaches in to unbuckle him and pulls him out, tucking him against his chest.
"alright, little man, i love ya bubba. i'll see you in a few days, don't give mama a hard time." he squeezes the toddler into a hug and presses his lips to his head.
as shane hands your son to you, you do the exact same and squeeze him into a hug, pressing numerous kisses to his cheeks and face.
"he's actually gonna stay at mom's for the night, and i have a lot to catch up on around the house and mom offered to give me the night and tomorrow off." you turn to place him in his car seat, buckling him in securely.
"well, happy mother's day to you, girl." shane is on the passenger side of the truck, pulling flowers and a large gift bag out.
you stammer and cross your arms, "didn't have to do this, shay."
"from me and little man. we appreciate you." he pulls you into a hug.
"thank you. we appreciate you right back. you take good care of us." you pulled yourself back rather quickly, trying to make yourself remember that you and shane are in fact separated.
โ
after your son has been dropped off at your mom's house, you're back homeโin the house you used to share with shaneโpouring a big glass of bubbly wine, standing your bathrobe, hair pulled up and slippers on.
you make your way to the master bathroom, dimming the lights. shane had done everything you wanted for this bathroom. heated floors, double vanity, standing shower and a tub, yellow lighting instead of white lighting. it was your sanctuary, connected to your bedroom, a space for you to treat as a getaway. pouring bubble bath under the running faucet suds begin to accumulate across the surface of the water.
pulling the bathrobe off of your form, sliding down into the hot tub, you sipped on your wine and let out a sigh of relief.
music playing softly from the speaker your phone was connected to, you sunk further into the tub, letting it wash all your worries away.
right as the last worry was leaving your head, your phone buzzed. you simply ignored it and laid your head back against the edge of the tub.
somewhere between your third glass of wine & being out of the tub you could've sworn you heard something directly under you in the kitchen. ignoring it, because you're certain you locked all the doors, you tie your robe before reaching down to drain the tub and hear another loud bang over it.
you tip toe to the bathroom door and lock it before reaching for your phone to call shane.
"what's up, mama?" shane answers.
"hey, i'm really sorry to bother you, i think someone is breaking into the house and i'm upstairs in the bathroom, can you swing over?" you ramble into the speaker with a whisper.
"yea, i'm in the house, i used my key. cooking in the kitchen. and by the way, if you think someone's in your house girl, don't drain the fuckin' tub, huh?" he hangs up as the lock is picked open with the pin key and he stands in the bathroom doorway, giving you a once over.
"what the fuck is your problem?" you clutch your chest and double over with a gasp.
"ain't got a problem, sweetheart, came over to cook mother's day dinner for the mother of my child, in the home we used to share." he croons at you, walking over to the closet to get you pajamas, as if things had never ended between the two of you.
"what if i had a man over here, and i was busy in bed?!" you call after him, arms crossed.
"you're so fulla'shit." shane laughed, returning with pajamas for you. "get dressed, dinner's waitin'."
"you're such an asshole," you snatch your clothes from him and shut the door to begin getting dressed.
"good to be home, baby!" shane continues laughing at your anger, making his way to the kitchen to plate your dinner.
โ
half a steak and another glass of bubbly wine in your belly, you're teetering on the edge of tipsy. shane's had a few, he's feeling buzzed. it really is like things never changed.
you're sat next to shane, your feet kicked over his knee, leaning back in your chair, laughing at something dumb he said.
"thank you for my flowers, and dinner. you really don't have to do all that." you clear your throat as the laughter dies out.
"yes i do, and not because i feel obligated, er'nothin', just because i want to. always tellin' that boy that even if mommy and daddy live apart, that i still care about mommy more than anything and that it is our job to protect you. raising him to be a man, raising him with an influence i never had." he shrugs and lays his hand on your shin, rubbing his thumb back and forth softly.
"picked a good man to have him with," your hand reaches for his, fingertips grazing his knuckles, "would do it the same way every time."
โ
you aren't sure if it's lowered inhibitions due to alcohol consumption or just the domestic feeling of being under the same roof as shane again that really did it for you, but the tops of your feet are resting in the pillow next to your head as shane is sliding himself in and out of you obscenely.
one arm above your head, the other hand holding steady next to your foot.
his forehead is resting on yours, pouring sweat, "pretty girl, so fuckin' tight, baby. missed this pussy so bad, y'r'sposed to be my fuckin' wife." his lips are whispering to you in a harsh tone, pressing hard, squishy kisses to your jaw.
tears are down your cheeks, you're making noises you've never heard from yourself before, all while shane is relentlessly pounding into you.
his teeth move to graze your neck, your back arching off of the bed as you wiggle your legs to lock around his waist, a moan slipping from your lips once more.
shane rolls you over so you're straddling him, his fingers digging into your hips with a delicious burn.
your hips wiggle forwards and backwards as you bounce yourself up and down the length of his cock, your thighs starting to burn as you pick up your pace.
his hands begin to paw at your chest, fingers rolling a nipple between them every couple of minutes, "gimme a kiss, mama. cmere." his hand is on the back of your neck, folding your body into his, his tongue immediately working it's way into your mouth to taste you.
between open mouth kisses and heavy breathing, he pants, "know you're right there baby, let go with me, c'mon. just one more." his hips stutter upwards, hands firm on your hips as he jackhammers himself into you, chasing his high, your cunt constricting around him intermittently.
"just one more, 'kay.." you sob softly, nails digging into his shoulders.
shane continued to curse as he fucked himself up into you, spilling himself inside of you. as you writhe through your orgasm you lay yourself down on him, as he softens inside of you.
โ
and that's how you wound up holding up a pregnancy test a month later when shane is bringing the boy back home for the week, "happy father's day." you drop it on the counter and sigh, running your hand through your hair.
shane is ecstatic, clapping, jumping, hoisting your son up on his shoulder, cheering, "c'mon mama, told you one more wouldn't hurt us. lemme come home take care'a my family." he walks to you, holding your son against his side, his free arm tugging you into the opposite side, "gonna be alright, we'll figure it out." his lips graze the top of your head and you give in immediately. arms around him, head in his chest, sobbing.
your boys clearly didn't get pope's memo the first time he corrected their attitudes. drabble inspo taken from @t4medicroe's comment ๐๐ป
content warning: the eldest son throws a heavy object past reader's head in anger during an argument to intimidate/scare her out of anger. (my account is 18+ MDNI. read at own risk.)
pope cody did everything in his power to be a good, present father for his boys. they did not know a life of thievery, lying and beating their way to the top.
the boys didn't even know what pope did for work, they know he's a businessman who travels a lot. an investor of sorts. pope worked only the best of jobs to make sure you stayed home to keep the boys on a routine, put them thru school, keep appearances in neighborhood, to rewrite what smurf had been narrating since the 70's.
and you'd do it in every lifetime. but these boys, had tempers far worse than you'd ever seen pope or craig's. and they didn't listen.
it was a parallel you'd seen before. craig threatening to break every appliance in smurf's kitchen. you were standing, staring at your oldest as he yelled at you, had you practically cornered in the pantry as you shushed him and told him everything was fine, you'd get what he needed taken care of.
he didn't want to hear it. you've got a a lump in your throat refusing to let you scream for pope when your son grabs a can from the pantry shelf and throws it at the wall behind you.
you're yelling now, screaming at your son to go to his bedroom, "i did not raise you this way, go to your fucking room!"
pope comes rushing in as your eldest stomps away.
"fuckin' hate you & i fuckin' hate this house!" he hollers from over the railing before slamming his bedroom door.
ใผ
you quickly usher outside with a cigarette between your lips talking pope.
"your son is on thin fucking ice, andrew. i need a break, these attitudes have got to go. they're worse than you and your brothers!" you blow smoke out the side of your mouth with a huff.
"my attitude isn't bad." pope protests, grabbing a drill from the garage.
you scoff and flick your cigarette out.
"just stay put." pope pets down the back of your head as he heads inside.
you soon after hear yelling, you catch bits and pieces,
"if i ever see you so much as raise your voice at your mother again, i will be the only problem you have!"
"you have the best mom in the world, do you understand that?"
"you do not want me to have this conversation with you a third time."
you shake your head, tears welled in your eyes. when did your baby boys start hating you? when did they become so vile?
you hear muffled yelling from your son, followed by a loud, "shut the fuck up," muttered from your husband as he drags his bedroom door down the stairs and tosses it outside, immediately coming to your side to console you.
melting into your husband with a quiet sob, pope wraps his arms around you, laying his head into the crook of your neck. he's never been so angry and disappointed in his boys, you're a mom he would've killed to have. he has tears in his eyes, too.
"when did they get so hateful? we did not raise them this way.." you mumble into his chest.
"i dunno, sweetheart. i'm handling it." he sighs into your skin. his boys really did not know the half.
