Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody x F!Reader
Andrew coming home to you after fighting with Baz, confessing insecurities about a future with you. You offer to show him just how wrong Baz is.
18+ PiV intercourse. breeding kink. no use of birth control. mommy/daddy titles mentioned. slight masochist tones, Andrew bites you, you’re into it.
“You don’t know shit, and you never will. Do you get that? No one is ever going to have a kid with you. Ever.”
Baz’s voice echoed through Andrew’s mind on a steady repeat as he slowly trekked up the stairs to your shared apartment.
He turned the key, door opening to pure silence. Unsurprising. Not alarming. It was late, Andrew didn’t expect you to still be awake.
He moved through the apartment on autopilot. Moonlight barely illuminated the room enough for Andrew to see your sleeping form on the bed. Approaching, not yet touching the bed, Andrew stared, counting every one of your breaths.
He blinked, barely moving as you sleepily searched for the bedside lamp. It’s soft glow letting you take in his dull, dejected face.
“Baby?” You frowned, reaching for his hand. Numbly, he let you pull him to lay beside you. “What’s wrong?”
“Baz.” Andrew spat the name like it was poison. “He’s got some whore staying with him, sleeping in their bed, and Lena…”
You calmly fiddled with his fingers, patiently waiting for Andrew to collect his thoughts.
“He said she’s not my kid, she’s not my concern.” He gazed off to a fixed point in the corner of the room. “He said, ‘no one is ever going to have a kid with you’.”
“I’m not stupid—” Andrew’s lip quivered. “I know there’s something wrong with me, I’m not good. But I would try my best if—”
Eyes shining from barely held back tears. Chest heaving from shaky breaths. Andrew curled into your side where you welcomed him with open arms, fingers digging into his old t-shirt you’d claimed as a sleep shirt, and sobbed.
Tears flowed freely while you ran your fingers through his curls, cooing softly until his cries settles into hiccups and quiet sniffles.
“Baz doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” You whispered. “He’s just mad you’re right—jealous that you’re better with Lena than he’ll ever be—you’ll be an amazing father.”
Your heart tugged as the subtle head shakes Andrew gave while you spoke, like even his body subconsciously didn’t agree. Hand smoothing over his jaw, you forced his eyes to you.
“There is nothing wrong with you.” You stated, quiet but firm. No room for disagreement. “I hope they take after you.”
Andrew stiffened up, something flickered behind his watery eyes.
“Our kids.” You nod. “I hope they get your curls.”
“You would have—” Andrew swallowed hard. “You want kids?”
His mind was racing. You could almost see it. It wasn’t exactly like you’d sat down and had any in-depth discussion about a future. No one talked about the next steps. No wedding to plan. No white picket fences. No cradles. You had Andrew—in whatever capacity it was—and that was enough for you.
“Your kids.” You corrected. “With you, only with you.”
Andrew sucked in a breath, like your confession caused him both immense pain and the greatest release he’d ever experience.
His mouth found yours so hard teeth clashed together, both of you losing yourself in Andrew’s complete desperation. Shaky hands roamed every inch of skin exposed. Clawing to remove your sleep shirt. In his hysteria, deft fingers unable to under the buttons on his jeans, before you took over.
You yanked the rough fabric down his legs. A giddy excitement reminiscent of teens sneaking to have their first time building between you, impatiently throwing his boxers behind you blindly.
Andrew caught your lip between sharp teeth as you fumbled your way into his lap, refusing to part from you even as you yelped. Blunt nails dug into his bare chest before he finally let go. He could have easily fought your play for dominance, yet he let you press him down into the mattress, let you claim your place above him all while rocking your drooling cunt over his hard length.
“You gonna fuck me good, right, baby?” You pouted down at him, all breathy, abused lip smeared with blood.
Andrew nodded immediately, smoothing a hand up your stomach, cupping a bouncing tit in his warm palm, “Yeah, baby. Gonna fuck you right.”
“Yeah?” You cooed, kneeling over his hips and grasping his heavy cock, lining him up. “You gonna fuck a baby in me?”
His hips bucked, tip barely pressing in you at your elevated position. A look of determination crossed his face. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Anything. Everything.”
A genuine smile crawled its way across your lips. You knew Andrew meant every word, too.
Andrew’s chest heaved as you sunk down on him, your features pinched together at the delicious stretch. Your bare ass met his thighs. Immediately raising again, dropping your weight back down on his lap with an audible smack!
You set a rough pace. Rolling your hips, pressing your weight down on him as if you couldn’t get close enough, like you were determined to force more of his cock deeper in you.
Desperate. Aggressive. Rabid.
Andrew’s hands digging into your waist, aiding your bouncing. Moans and breathless grunts filled the room each and every time your wet heat surrounded his cock. Leaning up to capture a nipple with his mouth, Andrew bit at the sensitive nub. Your shriek filled the room. A deep groan flowing from him when your fingers dug into his curls, pulling the strands hard until he released you with a pop!
“Gonna make you a mommy.” Andrew promised against your throat, growling a purely animalistic sound. “Keep you all round, full.”
“I want it, Andrew.” You all but drooled the words, eyes glazed over. “Please, wanna make you a daddy.”
With a shift of his hips, Andrew threw you off balance. You toppled over. Andrew grappled to his knees behind you and rearranging you on all fours before mounting you again. Burying his length back where it belonged and set an unrelenting pace. Hard, cruel thrusts, like he was trying to drive his cock clean through you.
Strong hands pinned your face into the sheets, cuffing your neck like a stray kitten. Ass cheeks burning red from the force of Andrew’s thrusts. Cunt clenching around the thick intrusion while you drooled like a bitch in heat, poorly attempting to buck your hips back to meet Andrew’s devilish pace.
He fucked like he had something to prove.
Your vision blurring as white hot heat shot through your body, slick pouring from your abused pussy, only aiding Andrew’s erratic fucking.
Jaw clenching as he felt his balls tightening up, Andrew bowed forward, slicked chest molding against your back. Mouthing at your sweaty shoulder, before baring his teeth and biting down. Hard.
Your screams muffled into the mattress. Back arching, feeling each individual tooth sinking into soft flesh. Andrew’s rhythm faltered, hips stuttering as warmth filled you. Andrew’s moans vibrating against your shoulder.
He’s barely giving you a moment to think, before he wretched himself out of you. Shuffling until he was eye level with your puffy pussy. Andrew spread your pussy open, watching with a sick fascination as your hole fluttered. His thick cum started to ooze from deep within. With a surprising gentleness, Andrew traced his fingers through your sopping lips, collecting any escaping cum and stuffing his fingers back inside you.
“Can’t waste it.” He muttered, talking to himself. “Keep it all inside. Gotta make sure it takes.”
You whimpered, exhaustion making every limb feel like lead. Limp as Andrew rearranges you like a doll until you’re settled comfortable in your shared bed. Andrew’s intense eyes locked on the bite—his mark—on your shoulder. You followed his gaze. Not deep enough to draw blood, but enough his teeth indents were still visible, the skin angry and protesting.
“It’s okay.” Your voice raw, hoarse. But gentle in the way you always spoke to him, like a scared animal, like if you were too loud he’d flee. “Andrew—it’s okay, I liked it.”
He didn’t answer, but let you pull him to settle beside you, just as you had when he first came home. Collecting the skittish man in your arms, threading your fingers through his sweat damp hair, pure love oozing from your eyes to his. A content smile on your lips.
“I hope it takes,” You whispered, fitting your hand into his and guiding it down, until it rested against your stomach. “I think it will. I can feel it. Can you feel it?”
Andrew stayed silent, you didn’t expect a reply. He quietly brushed his fingers across smooth skin, staring like he would be able to see directly into your womb, and know.
You nuzzled into his side, nose brushing tenderly across his jawline. “You’ll be a good father, Andrew—the best—I can’t wait to give that to you. I want to give that to you.”
Every instinct in Andrew told him not to listen—‘she’s lying, who would ever want to have your kids? be with you? love you?’—but he pushed them down to the deepest parts of his heart, focusing on the sweet thing curled happily against his side.
Baz is wrong. Andrew thought, watching you drift to sleep. He doesn’t know anything.
