angel — ᨳଓ

[angelofthepitt]

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she/her. 19. infp. june gemini. brat. nyc. woc. bisexual. glory to hades. 11:11 crybaby. angelic. ⊹ ˖ Ი𐑼

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© 2026 angelofthepitt [all rights reserved]

[angelofthepitt]

thanks for the follow!!! <3

how do you think pope would handle break up sex? or even make up sex?? i never see as much angst as i would like with him and i feel like the potential for this idea is too good not to ask for :')

oh my goodness, i know you asked this about a million years ago (2 months) and i’m SO sorry! i was getting major writers block trying to write the smut for this but i’m FINALLY finished and you can read the fic here! thanks for this amazing idea because i have a sick and twisted mind and love a little bit of angst in my fics 🥹

[angelofthepitt]

make it up to you

summary: a few vague answers from your boyfriend andrew, turns into a missed date, turns into an argument, turns into a breakup, turns into makeup sex

content warnings: 18+ smut, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, breeding kink if you squint, pope makes reader use her words, secretive pope, slightly stalker pope; pope breaks into reader’s apartment, kind of insecure reader, yes chef one liner in there if you catch it, reader only addresses pope as “andrew” and “andy”, use of petnames (sweetheart, love, angel), prob some ooc pope cs i didn’t know what petnames he’d use, afab reader, umm i think that’s it lmk if i missed anything

wc: 3.1k

andrew has always been quiet. that’s why you two worked, with you always talking and him listening attentively to every word. but there’s a fine line between quiet and secretive.

you can’t exactly pinpoint when you first noticed it. the mumbles when you’d ask what it was like to be a property manager, or the one word answers when you’d ask how his day was. just the vagueness of it all.

when he started keeping a toothbrush at your apartment, you picked up on his irregular work hours more. how he’d leave early during game night because he needed to do an emergency property inspection for one of his tenants, or how he’d come late to a date because of an urgent heating issue in one of his building in san diego.

you’d tried to push it to the back of your mind and convince yourself it was just the weird, flexible work hours of a property manager. but that didn’t change the fact that you’d been dating for almost six months and he still hadn’t introduced you to his family. you had heard him mention his brothers, craig and deran, once or twice in casual conversation, but you didn’t know where they lived or what their lives were like. would they even like you?

the real problem was when he had never showed up for what was supposed to be a movie night but ended with you falling asleep on the couch with a bucket of cold popcorn on your coffee table. the only thing that pulls you out of your sleep is the echo made from the loud click of your front door unlocking, making your head snap up.

there he stood in your doorway, looking frozen and guilty as if he had just been caught—which he had. you rise to your feet, your blood pressure already rising as you stand in front of the sofa with your arms crossed, glaring from the small distance that felt so far.

“what time is it?” the question could’ve sounded genuinely curious if it weren’t for the icy look on your face.

“what?” andrew quietly asks, only speaking after a long moment when he realizes you actually want an answer.

“what time is it?”

he hesitantly pulls his phone out of his back pocket to check, saying, “2:17.”

you hum in response, pressing your lips together into a straight line. “so why’d you even bother coming?” you ask rhetorically.

“because i wanted to see you,” he says, the rhetoric seemingly flying over his head.

“you were supposed to be here at 8.”

“something came up at work.”

“‘til 2am?” you scoff. when he doesn’t respond, you pick up the bowl of wasted popcorn, moving to your right to discard of it in your kitchen. when you turn around from the trash can, you crash hard into his chest, not expecting him to be right behind you.

“i’m sorry,” he spoke, once you regained your balance.

“what came up?”

“i told you. work stuff.”

“what kind of work stuff?”

“property manager work stuff.”

“i can’t keep doing this with you, andrew,” you sigh as you walk past him, your small kitchen feeling claustrophobic at the moment. honestly, your whole apartment feels too full. like the air gets thinner every time you try to get a breath.

“doing what?”

you turn around to face him once more, “you’re hiding stuff from me.”

“i’m not hiding any—”

“stop lying!”

you don’t understand why he won’t tell you. does he not trust you with whatever he has going on in his life? you were supposed to be a team, but it seemed like everytime you pushed, he stepped back a little more. is there something worth hiding from you specifically?

“just tell me. whatever you got going on, i wouldn’t judge you.”

“i know you wouldn’t.”

“then why won’t you tell me?!” you’re begging at this point, desperate for your boyfriend to let you in.

he swallows at your outburst, seeming intimidated as if he’s not the most intimidating person on the planet. “there’s nothing to tell.”

you let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. you’re just so over it. you don’t have enough energy to fight for something that shouldn’t need to be asked for—transparity.

“i’m done,” you sigh as you sit back on the couch. “just go.”

he puts out his hand, “sweetheart—”

“if we don’t have honesty, we don’t have anything. so just go.”

he stands there for another few seconds, like he’s either hoping you’ll change your mind or just straight up ignoring your protests.

“i said get out!”

he flinches back at the contrast of your harsh tone from your previously disengaged one. once he realizes you’re serious, he turns and walks out of your house, the door clicking quietly behind him.

the click echoes throughout your body. your heart is pounding against your rib cage. there was no taking it back now. but would you even want to? you had meant what you said—about the secrets, and the lying, and the honesty. but your heart still aches in his absence. the truth is, your heart has always ached without andrew cody in your life.

your next day isn’t much better on top of that. your boss gives you double your usual workload, so you have to stay late to finish it all, and your male coworker, for some reason, finds it necessary to comment multiple times on how “tired” you looked.

usually when you had a bad day, you’d go home and cuddle up on the bed with andrew, ranting about all the shitty things that had pissed you off. but now you had no one to go home to.

you fumble with your keys, dropping them as you try to unlock your front door. just another shitty annoyance to add to the list of shitty annoyances on this very shitty day. when you finally get into your house, you drop your bag right by the door, not having the energy to put it in its proper place. you kick off your shoes too, letting them lay in whatever spot they had found themselves in. you drag yourself to your bedroom, rubbing your eyes. when you open them, standing in the doorway, you jump at the sight of a figure sitting in your desk chair.

“holy shit!” you exclaim.

“you’re home later than usual,” andrew says with a steady voice, as if you were the one who had intruded and he was right where he was supposed to be.

“what are you doing here, andrew?”

“why are you late?”

“i told you to get out. it’s over.”

“why are you late?”

you cross your arms over your chest, unamused by his protectiveness—which was new for you. “my boss gave me a lot of work, i had to stay late to finish it all.”

“he giving you a hard time?”

“why are you here, andrew?”

“i’m always here.”

you scoff. “always? yeah, always, except when i need you to be.”

“i’m here now. so c’mon, lay down, and you can tell me all about your da—”

“i don’t want to lay down. i don’t want you here, what don’t you understand?”

“that’s not true.”

you scoff again. “look, i told you, it’s either you be honest with me or get out.”

“i am being honest.”

he says it so quickly and smoothly that you almost believe him. almost.

“really? then tell me the real reason you were late last night. and every night before that.”

“it’s not important.”

“so, yesterday there was nothing to tell, and now it’s not important?”

your mind races at the same rate as your heart. you don’t want to go there, but why else would he be lying to you? what else needed this secrecy?

“are you cheating on me?”

he takes a moment before speaking, furrowing his brows as if dumbfounded by the question, “what?”

“are you seeing somebody else?”

“no. why would you think that?”

“what else would you need to keep from me?”

seconds feel like hours as you both just look at each other. you want to believe him, you really do. you can’t even imagine andrew with another person, especially since it took a while before he truly got comfortable with you. but you can’t think of another logical reason for him to be keeping things from you. and if he was seeing somebody else, it’d make sense that he wouldn’t introduce you to his family. maybe you were the other woman.

he stands, ending the intense staring contest you were both engaged in. “if i could tell you everything, i would; but i can’t. i wouldn’t be keeping something private if i didn’t have a reason. i love you.”

tears prick at the corners or your eyes as your throat tightens, because you believe him. you truly believe he loves you and you love him too. but none of it is adding up. “then act like it.”

you turn your back to him as the tears finally spill over and coat your cheeks. your hands quickly move up to cover your face, wishing you could just sink into a hole in the floor. the exhaustion of work and arguing with andrew had finally silently imploded inside of you.

you feel big arms wrap around you, thumbs drawing small circles on your elbows, a broad chest pressed against your back. “’m sorry, sweetheart. didn’t mean to make you cry. let me make it up to you.”

you shouldn’t let him. you should fight back and insist he tell you the truth. but in this moment, in his arms, all you want is for him to take care of you.

you turn around in his arms, burying your head into his chest and letting the rest of your tears fall. one of his hands comes up to cradle your head while the other rubs your back in gentle circles. “i know. let it all out.”

when your sobs finally slow and your breathing evens out, he removes the hand from the back of your head, causing you to move away from his chest before his hand catches the side of your jaw. “listen to me. i would never do anything to hurt you. you understand?”

you nod in response before his lips capture yours. his hands move from your face to your waist to the back of your thighs, giving you a little tap as a signal to jump. you wrap your legs around his waist as the kiss continues and he moves you over to your bed.

he places you down on the mattress, settling in between your legs. he brings his lips to your tear-stained cheeks, whispering, “too pretty to cry,” as he peppers kisses along the wet lines.

he removes both of your clothes slowly as he goes back to kissing your lips, stripping you both down to just your underwear. he scoots down to be eyelevel with your cotton covered cunt, slowly moving his thumb up and down the shielded slit. “want me to make you feel good?”

you nod, making him remove him thumb. “use your words, sweetheart.”

“yes.”

“yes, what? say it.”

“yes, i want you to make me feel good.”

“okay,” he whispers before placing a peck to your covered clit, making your hips buck up.

“don’t worry. won’t take long.” he hooks his fingers into your undergarments, pulling them down your ankles. his breath ghosts over your core before he dives in, eating you like a starved man. your fingers grasp around his auburn curls as you suck in a breath through your teeth. he doesn’t slow his pace once as he devours you, licking and sucking in all the right places. his index and middle finger teases your entrance, gathering the slick before pushing in.

your head falls back against the pillows at the feeling. his digits are big but you know he’ll be bigger. soon. that exact thought is what makes you pull at his curls harder. “please, andy… inside…”

andrew keeps lapping at your folds, pulling away only for a moment to pull your legs over his shoulders and press messy kisses to your inner thighs. “need you to cum first. don’t want it to hurt,” he groans before shoving his face back down to your core. he zero’s in on your sensitive pearl while still slowly working his fingers inside you, making you clamp your legs together around his head. his movement don’t falter under the new grip, and you swear, under the haze of pleasure, you can feel him grinning against you.

it doesn’t take long before your breathy moans turn into high pitch whimpers and you’re grinding against his tongue. the noises you make are a mix of ‘andy…’, ‘yes!’, and ‘uh uh uh uh uh!’ to the same rhythm of andrew’s tongue.

“you close, sweetheart?” andrew asks, pulling away his mouth for a moment to look up at you while his two fingers still works on your insides. “you gonna cum f’me?” you whine in response, words seeming impossible for me. “i know, angel. i know,” he coo’s.

his mouth goes back to focusing on your heat, sucking and pulling at your clit. your choke on your gasp as he presses a third finger into you, thrusting faster. your hips buck up instinctively, chasing the feeling of that familiar pressure building. andrew’s free hand shoots up press his arm over your lower belly, holding you down to the mattress.

you’re finally pushed over the edge when you hear, and feel, andrew groan into you. your head falls back against the pillows, letting out a string of moans that starts with andrew’s name and ends in gibberish, as the vibrations flow through you.

when your thighs relax on his shoulders, andrew pulls away, placing one last peck to your clit. he moves his face to be level with yours again, holding himself up on his forearms by your head. “y’know, usually you’d be in trouble for doing that without asking,” he says before kissing you. smiles as he slides his tongue into your mouth, letting you taste yourself, then takes it away just as quickly. “you’re lucky you taste so good.”

he moves his lips to lick, suck, and bite your neck, collarbones, and chest. your fingers stay running through andrew’s locks as he works on marking you. he never wants you to think he’s seeing anybody else ever again. he is yours and you are his. “only you, baby. only ever you.”

he only stops when you start whining his name. ‘please. please, andy.’ you’re grinding your bare heat against his boxers in desperation, adding even more moisture to the wet patch that was already present. andrew keeps kissing a line up the column of your neck, almost deliberately teasing as he starts rocking his hips against you.

“you don’t have to beg me to fuck you,” he whispers, looking up at you with his big, chocolate-brown eyes, “i’m going to.” he captures your lips with his once again, his right hand positioned next to your head so his body can hover over yours, and the other groping your waist. he moves his dominant hand from your waist to his boxers, pulling them down just enough for his cock to spring out, falling to rest heavily on your thigh. your hand reaches down to stroke it, once, twice, before you feel a hand placed over yours to stop you.

“i need to get inside you, sweetheart.” you immediately respond with an eager nod, but andrew keeps speaking. “no— no condom this time. wanna feel all of you. want you to feel all of me.”

you respond by putting your lips on his. he groans into the kiss, moving to line up with hips with yours. he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. “ready?”

“yes—fuck yes.”

he pushes into you slowly, filling you completely. you both let out a breath when he bottoms out. “oh, andy,” you pant.

“let me know when your ready for me to move,” he immediately replied, knowing your body needed to adjust to his size. by now, you’re used to the initial burn from your boyfriend stretching you out, but this was different. it was like you could feel him hit every crevice inside of you, feel every vein on his shaft. it was amazing.

once you start to relax against him, you tap your fingers along his spine, and he knows. he pulls out until you’re only left with the tip teasing you, before plunging back in. you dig your nails into his back at the feeling.

he continues his slow, deep strokes, your combined moans and heavy breathing filling the air. “faster, andy,” you breathe into his ear, and that’s all he needs to hear. he immediately starts pounding into you with a new found energy, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass bouncing off the walls. you cling to his torso, instinctively wrapping your legs around him.

the shift allows him to go deeper, dropping his head to the crook of your neck with a choked sound escaping his mouth. it might’ve been intended as a groan but his voice cracking makes it come out as more of a whimper.

you know he’s close when his rhythm starts getting sloppy. “gonna fill you,” he grunts. “gonna pump you sooo full. want it dripping out of you so i can push it back in. how’s that sound, sweetheart? you want that?” you whine as your legs get tighter around his hips, desperately grinding against his pelvis for some kind of friction against your clit. “yeah, i know,” andrew coos. “i know, love, but you gotta use your words. tell me what you want. tell me and i’ll give it to you.”

“please, andy—fuck! please, i need to cum!”

“go ahead, cum for me. wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

your orgasm hits you like a train, hard and fast, you walls clenching around him. the feeling pushed him over the edge as well, thrusting into you one last time as you feel something warm coat your insides. you could feel his length pulsing inside you, matching his heartbeat pressed against your chest.

you were both breathing hard, coming down from your highs and feeling all the sweat on your bodies. “i love you,” andrew says, his lips close to your ear. “only you. always you. forever.”

“i love you too,” you utter, hands still lingering on his spine. “can you carry me to the shower?”

“of course, princess.”

authors note: writing the smut for this had me utterly stumped but fuck it we ball (can you tell i’ve never experienced this with another human? rhetorical question pls don’t answer that.)

© 2026 angelofthepitt [all rights reserved]

[angelofthepitt]

would y’all like if i did a “5 prompts for 50 followers” thing or am i reaching??

[pierrotdoesnteat]

positivity train!

if you see this or are tagged in it, tag a couple of your favorite mutuals/blogs and let them know you appreciate seeing them on your dash!

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WAIT STOP TY DUDE ILY 🥹🥹🥹🥹

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[cleradin7]

AWWW TYSMM!!!

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[dustineila]

AHHHH THANK U U TOO 🥹🥹

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ty for either ur support, friendship, or lovely blogs 😇

[0nlybitt3r4may]

OMG??? THATS SO NICE!!

i genuinely love my moots SO much

@vlarrtrgryn , @dontmentionitseriouslyy , @teacup-thoughts , @sweetestgrace , @fireandcxnt , @theantsareafterme , @caramelieee , @fallenangelkay , @targ4ryens , @violained , @bandagedthoughtsblog , @bitterswtdvll , @megumisbnuuy , @loveloveloveldr , @itneverrainsinsoutherncalineverarain , @dreamyysouls , @vitya3 , @starstruckedtidalwavetiger

[dontmentionitseriouslyy]

oh STAWP it you're too nice :((

@wheelrsgrl @vurbenaa @quoththewarlock @0nlybitt3r4may @gleekluver @voidreynolds @teacup-thoughts @cocteaucicochico @zombiegrains @byleriskillingme @mythicstargirl @ghits-and-shiggles @notthesharpesttoolxo @lilyyyyy08 @secretlifeofsombr @babybyers08132 @lynn-is-definitely-sane @carameliee

i love you all so much! please always remember that you are amazing <33

[teacup-thoughts]

Stawppp Ilyyyyy

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The people who have been so kind and amazing to me while I talk shit and sometimes write I love you all so much

[lettersfromtheocean]

♡♡♡ MWAHHH ♡♡♡

@teacup-thoughts ♡

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[rafesdaydream]

ILY @lettersfromtheocean 🥹🥹🥹

to all my lovely amazing perfect moots tyy for your sparkle 💕🤭: @babydollrafe , @drewslacebunny , @isastarset , @rafecameronarchive , @sweettoothrafe , @kooksandpearls , @rafeysvenicebitch , @kissmeuntil , @bookishbelle2312 , @angel06babysworld , @foggycandystarlight + all my other moots bc i unfortunately cannot name u all as much as i want to 😭

[rafeysvenicebitch]

EEEEEE THANK YOU @rafesdaydream

@memoirofasparklemuff1n @rafesbabygirlx @rafecameronnngf @angelofthepitt @angelofthepitt @fresh1lous @strawberries-and-lots-of-kisses @tylerjeauxburreaux9 and literally all my other moots, I love you all!!

[angelofthepitt]

OH EM GEE THANK YOUUUU @rafeysvenicebitch

@sochkila @downbadwellread @romanticpursuit @astarlinggirl i don’t have many moots, but ily guys and all your amazing work!! never stop writing 🥹

[miasvelvetvoid]

high tide,

summary: You’ve always thought getting high with Andrew was harmless. Then tonight happens, and you realize you’ve been testing the limits of his self-control all along. andrew ‘pope’ cody x f!reader / cw: needy!pope my fav, smoking, weed, subbish!pope barely, he’s so nerdy in this i love it, ocd tendencies, SMUT!! (dubconish, protected piv, fem oral receiving, fingering), cute ending, lmk if im missing some. word count: 5.1k amalia’s love note: shoutout to @wench-hunter-gatherer for this amazing idea, i hope i did it justice <3

The joint passed between your fingers and Pope's, the ember glowing orange against the deepening purple of the sky. The ocean stretched out before you, endless and dark, waves rolling in with that rhythmic crash that made everything else fade away. You were perched on Pope's lap on the old wicker chair on your balcony, his chest warm against your back, and the weed was hitting just right, that floaty, melty feeling where your body felt both heavy and weightless at once.

The air was thick with salt and humidity, that particular heaviness that came with coastal evenings. Your skin felt sticky, and where your bare thighs pressed against Pope's jeans, you could feel the heat radiating between you. The sun had dipped below the horizon maybe twenty minutes ago, leaving behind streaks of pink and orange that were slowly fading to deep purple. A few early stars were beginning to prick through the darkening sky.

“This is perfect,” Pope murmured, his voice rumbling through his chest into your spine. His breath tickled your ear, warm and smelling faintly of weed and the mint gum he'd been chewing earlier. You felt him shift slightly beneath you, adjusting his position, and you became acutely aware of the solid warmth of his thighs, the way his body cradled yours.

“Mm-hmm.” You took another hit, held it, watching the smoke curl from your lips and dissipate into the salt air. Everything felt heightened, the sound of the waves was almost musical, each crash and retreat a perfect rhythm. The wicker chair creaked slightly as you both breathed, and you could hear the distant sound of someone's music playing down the beach, just a faint bass line carrying on the wind.

Pope's hands rested on the arms of the chair, his fingers drumming slightly to some internal beat. You noticed he was being very careful not to touch you, even though you were literally sitting in his lap. It was so Pope, respectful to the point of awkwardness, even in an intimate situation. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself carefully still.

The weed was making you hyperaware of every sensation. The cotton of your tank top felt soft against your skin, and you weren't wearing a bra, hadn't bothered when Pope texted saying he was coming over. You could feel your nipples hardening slightly in the cooling evening air, and you wondered if he'd noticed. The thin fabric didn't hide much.

Your shorts were denim cutoffs, frayed at the edges, and they'd ridden up slightly when you'd settled into his lap. You could feel the rough texture of his jeans against the backs of your thighs, and the contrast between that roughness and the smooth warmth of his hands, even though he wasn't touching you, made you shiver slightly.

“You cold?” Pope asked immediately, his voice concerned.

“No,” you said, and your voice came out lower than you'd intended, almost husky. “Just... feeling good.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and you felt him relax slightly behind you. “This is nice. I needed this. Been a crazy week.”

You hummed in agreement, taking another hit before passing the joint back to him. His fingers brushed yours as he took it, and even that small contact sent a little spark through you. The weed was definitely making you sensitive, making every touch feel more significant.

The ocean continued its endless rhythm, and you found yourself swaying slightly to it, your body moving in small circles. It was unconscious at first, just responding to the sound and the feeling of being high and relaxed. But then you became aware of it, aware of the way your ass was pressing against Pope's lap, the way the movement was creating friction between your bodies.

Pope's breath hitched slightly, and his hands tightened on the chair arms. You felt a little thrill run through you, he'd definitely noticed. You did it again, a little more deliberately this time, rolling your hips in a slow circle.

“You, uh...” Pope's voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat. “You good?”

“I'm great,” you said, and you let your head fall back against his shoulder, exposing the line of your throat. The movement pressed your body more firmly against his, and you felt him tense. “Really, really great.”

You could feel his heart beating faster against your back, could hear the slight change in his breathing. The joint had burned down to almost nothing, and he stubbed it out in the ashtray on the small table beside the chair. His hands returned immediately to the chair arms, gripping them like they were the only thing keeping him grounded.

You wiggled again, this time more obviously, grinding down slightly. The friction sent a pleasant tingle through your body, and you realized with a lazy, weed-hazed smile that you were getting turned on. The sensation was building slowly, a warm pressure between your legs that was becoming harder to ignore.

“Jesus,” Pope breathed, and you felt him shift beneath you, trying to adjust himself. That's when you felt it, the unmistakable hardness pressing against your ass. He was getting hard, and he was clearly embarrassed about it, trying to shift away without being obvious.

But there was nowhere for him to go, and every time he moved, it just created more friction, more awareness of his growing erection. You bit your lip, feeling a surge of arousal mixed with affection. He was trying so hard to be respectful, even as his body betrayed exactly what he was feeling.

“Andy.,” you said softly, turning your head so your lips were close to his ear. You could see his profile in the dim light, the strong line of his jaw, the way his throat worked as he swallowed hard. “It's okay.”

“What's okay?” he asked, his voice strained. “I'm not-I mean, I'm just-“

You wiggled again, deliberately this time, grinding down against the hardness you could feel pressing against you. He made a choked sound, somewhere between a gasp and a groan, and his hands finally left the chair arms, hovering uncertainly near your hips before returning to their safe position.

“You're so hard,” you murmured, and you felt him shudder. “I can feel you.”

“I'm sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn't mean to-you're just sitting there and you're so-and I can't help-fuck, I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry,” you said, and you pressed your nose against the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of him. He smelled like weed and ocean air and something distinctly Pope clean sweat and that expensive body wash he used, something woodsy and masculine. You let your lips brush against his skin, just barely, and felt him suck in a sharp breath.

His pulse was racing beneath your lips, and you could feel the heat of his skin. You kissed him again, a little more firmly this time, your lips pressing against the spot where his neck met his shoulder. His skin was slightly salty, and you let your tongue dart out, tasting him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice rough and strained.

“Kissing you,” you said simply, doing it again. You dragged your lips up the column of his throat, feeling the vibration as he groaned. Your hands came up to rest on his thighs, and you felt the muscles tense beneath your palms.

“We're-we're high,” he said, like he was trying to convince himself of something. “And we're friends, and I don't want to-I don't want to take advantage or-“

“Andrew,” you interrupted, turning in his lap so you were straddling him, your knees on either side of his hips. The movement pressed your core directly against his erection, and you both gasped at the contact. His eyes were wide, pupils blown dark, and his lips were parted. He looked wrecked already, and you'd barely done anything. “I want this. Do you want this?”

“I-fuck-yes,” he admitted, his hands finally, finally coming to rest on your hips. His grip was tentative at first, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he held on too tight. “I've wanted this for so long, but I didn't think-I didn't know if you-“

You cut him off by rolling your hips against him, grinding down deliberately. The friction was delicious, the seam of your shorts pressing against your clit through your underwear, and you could feel how hard he was through his jeans. The layers of fabric between you were frustrating and arousing at the same time.

“Oh god,” Pope groaned, his head falling back against the chair. His hands tightened on your hips, and you could see him struggling with himself, wanting to pull you closer, wanting to maintain control. His neck was exposed, the tendons standing out, and you leaned forward to kiss along his throat.

You worked your way up to his jaw, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, occasionally letting your teeth graze his skin. He was making these small sounds, almost whimpers, and each one sent a bolt of arousal straight through you. Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth of him through his thin t-shirt, and you could feel his heart racing.

“You're killing me,” he breathed, and his hips jerked up involuntarily, seeking more friction. “You're actually killing me.”

“Good,” you murmured against his ear, then caught his earlobe between your teeth, tugging gently. He made a strangled sound, and his hands slid from your hips to your ass, gripping firmly. The touch sent electricity through you, and you ground down harder against him.

You could feel how wet you were getting, your underwear already damp, and the knowledge that he could probably feel it too through the layers of clothing made you even more aroused. You wanted him to know what he was doing to you, wanted him to feel how much you wanted this.

Your hands tangled in his hair, and you tugged slightly, angling his head so you could kiss along his jaw. He had a day or two of stubble, and the scratch of it against your lips was intoxicating. You kissed the corner of his mouth, teasing, and felt him turn his head, trying to capture your lips properly.

But you pulled back, smiling, and kissed down his neck instead. His hands were kneading your ass now, pulling you against him in a rhythm that matched the rolling of your hips. The friction was building, that pressure between your legs intensifying, and you knew if you kept this up you could probably come just from grinding against him.

“Please,” Pope groaned, and you weren't sure what he was begging for. “Please, I need-“

You kissed back up his neck, along his jaw, and finally pressed your lips to his. The kiss was immediately intense, all the pent-up tension exploding between you. His lips were soft and eager, if a little clumsy at first, but then he was kissing you back with increasing confidence, his tongue sliding against yours.

You moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head, holding you to him. The kiss was deep and hungry, all teeth and tongue and breathless gasps. You could taste the weed on his tongue, and underneath that, something distinctly him.

Your hips were still moving, grinding against him in a steady rhythm, and you could feel him getting harder, if that was even possible. His jeans had to be painfully tight, and part of you wanted to reach down and free him, to feel him properly. But another part of you was enjoying this, the teasing, the building tension, the way he was completely losing control.

You broke the kiss to gasp for air, and immediately started kissing down his neck again. This time you didn't hold back, sucking hard enough to leave marks, wanting to see evidence of this tomorrow. He groaned, his hips bucking up hard, and you felt a surge of power at the response.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he panted, his hands sliding under the hem of your tank top, finally touching bare skin. His palms were warm and slightly rough, and the touch sent shivers through you. He explored cautiously at first, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, then growing bolder, sliding up your ribcage.

When his thumbs brushed the undersides of your breasts, you both froze for a moment. You weren't wearing a bra, and he clearly just realized it. His hands stilled, and you could practically hear him thinking, trying to decide if he should continue.

You made the decision for him, arching your back and pressing your breasts more firmly into his hands. “Touch me,” you breathed against his neck. “Please, Andy, touch me.”

His hands cupped your breasts, and you both moaned at the contact. His thumbs found your nipples, already hard and sensitive, and when he brushed over them, you gasped, your hips jerking against him. The dual sensation, his hands on your breasts, the friction against your clit, was almost overwhelming.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice rough with arousal. “So fucking good. I can't believe-I've thought about this so many times, but I never-“

“What did you think about?” you asked, genuinely curious. You rolled your hips in a particularly deliberate circle, and he groaned.

“This,” he said, his thumbs circling your nipples. “Touching you. Kissing you. I thought about, fuck, I thought about what you'd taste like, what sounds you'd make. I thought about making you come.”

His words sent a bolt of heat through you, and you kissed him again, hard and desperate. Your hands slid under his shirt, needing to feel his skin, and he helped you pull it up slightly.

His chest was muscular and tanned, muscles defined from physical work, and you ran your hands over him appreciatively. His skin was warm and smooth, and you could feel his heart racing beneath your palm. You dragged your nails lightly down his chest, and he shuddered, his hips bucking up hard.

“Inside,” you gasped against his mouth, the need becoming urgent. “We need to-bedroom-“

“Yeah, yeah okay,” he panted, and then you were both standing, stumbling, still kissing frantically. His hands were everywhere now, your waist, your ass, sliding up under your shirt to touch bare skin. You knocked into the doorframe, then the couch, giggling between kisses, drunk on him and the weed and the overwhelming need.

The journey to your bedroom felt like it took forever and no time at all. You were vaguely aware of moving through your apartment, of Pope's hands on you, of the way he kept stopping to press you against walls and kiss you deeper. At one point he lifted you, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against him as he carried you.

“Fuck, you're so hot,” he groaned against your neck, his hands gripping your ass to support you. “I can feel how wet you are, even through your shorts. Are you wet for me?”

“Yes,” you gasped, the dirty talk sending another surge of arousal through you. “So wet. I've been wet since I started grinding on you outside.”

He made a sound that was almost a growl, and then he was moving faster, carrying you the rest of the way to your bedroom. When you finally reached it, he set you down, and you started to pull away, intending to fall back onto the bed. But his hands tightened on your hips, stopping you.

“No, no, wait,” he said, slightly breathless, his lips swollen from kissing. “Don't-don't lay on the bed with those clothes.”

You blinked at him, confused and aroused and impatient. “What?”

“They smell like weed,” he explained, and his hands were already moving to the hem of your tank top, his fingers brushing against your skin. “Gonna get your bedsheets all dirty and smoky, and then you'll have to wash them, and-“

He pulled your shirt up and over your head, dropping it on the floor, still talking in that earnest, practical way that was so quintessentially Pope. Your breasts were exposed now, and you saw his eyes drop to them, his words faltering for a moment before he continued.

“-and that's a pain in the ass, you know? Better to just-“ His hands went to the button of your shorts, and you realized with a thrill that he was undressing you without even seeming to realize what he was doing. He was so focused on his explanation, on the logic of it, that he didn't notice the way your breath had quickened, the way you were watching him with heavy-lidded eyes.

“-take them off now, and then the sheets stay clean, and-“ He popped the button and slowly dragged down the zipper, his knuckles brushing against your lower belly. The touch made you shiver, and you saw him swallow hard, his throat working. “-you won't have to do laundry tomorrow, which is good because laundry sucks, and-“

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and started pulling them down, kneeling as he did so. The position put his face level with your hips, and you saw his eyes darken as more of your skin was revealed. You were wearing simple cotton underwear, nothing fancy, but they were damp with arousal, and you knew he could see it.

“-the detergent you use is expensive, I've seen it in your bathroom, so it's better to not waste it on sheets that don't really need washing, and-“ Your shorts hit the floor, and his hands skimmed up your thighs, thumbs brushing the edge of your underwear. His face was inches from your core, and you could feel his breath, warm against your skin.

He finally seemed to register what he was doing, his eyes traveling up your body, taking in your underwear, your bare breasts, the expanse of skin he'd just exposed. His hands were still on your thighs, and you could feel them trembling slightly.

“Oh,” he said, his voice rough and low. “Fuck.”

You reached behind you and hooked your thumbs into your underwear, slowly sliding them down. His eyes were locked on the movement, watching as you revealed yourself to him completely. When you stepped out of them, kicking them aside, you were completely naked, and he was still kneeling in front of you, fully dressed, staring at you like you were something holy.

“You were saying something about keeping the sheets clean?” you asked, your voice teasing.

His eyes snapped up to yours, and the heat in them made your breath catch. “I, uh... I forgot.”

“Andrew,” you said, reaching down to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his lower lip. “Your clothes smell like weed too.”

“That's-yeah, that's a good point,” he managed, and then you were pulling at his shirt, and he was helping you, yanking it over his head. You'd already seen his chest, but seeing it again in the better light of your bedroom made you appreciate it more, the muscle, the tan skin, the way his stomach tensed as you ran your hands over it.

You made quick work of his jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, hard and flushed, and you wrapped your hand around it, stroking slowly. He made a choked sound, his hips jerking forward involuntarily, and his hands came up to grip your shoulders for balance.

He was hot and hard in your hand, and you could feel him throbbing, could see the bead of precum at the tip. You swiped your thumb over it, spreading it, and he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against your stomach.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he panted against your skin. “But if you keep doing that, I'm gonna come way too fast, and I want-I need to-“

“What do you need?” you asked, still stroking him slowly.

“I need to taste you,” he said, his voice muffled against your stomach. “I've thought about it so many times. Please, can I-“

“Yes,” you said immediately, and then he was guiding you backward to the bed, his hands on your hips. When the backs of your knees hit the mattress, you sat, then lay back, and he followed you down, settling between your legs.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes roaming over your body with an intensity that made you feel exposed and desired at the same time. Then he leaned down and kissed your inner thigh, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured, kissing higher. “So fucking beautiful. I can't believe I get to do this.”

He kissed his way up your thigh, taking his time, and the anticipation was almost unbearable. When he finally reached your core, he paused, his breath hot against your wet flesh, and then he licked a long, slow stripe up your slit.

You gasped, your hips jerking, and he made a sound of satisfaction, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place. He licked again, more firmly this time, and then his tongue found your clit, circling it slowly.

“Oh god,” you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair. “Andy, that's-fuck-“

He was enthusiastic if a little inexperienced, but what he lacked in technique he made up for in eagerness. He experimented, paying attention to your reactions, learning what made you gasp and moan. When he sucked your clit into his mouth, your back arched off the bed, and he did it again, harder this time.

“Yes, like that,” you panted, your fingers tightening in his hair. “Just like that, don't stop-“

He didn't stop. He worked your clit with his mouth, alternating between sucking and licking, and then you felt his finger at your entrance, pressing in slowly. The stretch was delicious, and you moaned, your hips rolling against his face.

He added a second finger, curling them inside you, searching for that spot that would make you see stars. When he found it, you cried out, your whole body tensing, and he focused there, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm while his mouth continued its assault on your clit.

The pleasure built quickly, that familiar tension coiling in your lower belly. You were making sounds you'd be embarrassed about later, but right now you didn't care. All you cared about was the feeling of his mouth on you, his fingers inside you, the way he was completely focused on your pleasure.

“I'm close,” you gasped, and you felt him double his efforts, his fingers moving faster, his mouth more insistent. “Andy, I'm gonna-oh fuck, I'm-“

Your orgasm hit you like a wave, pleasure washing through you in pulses. Your inner walls clenched around his fingers, and you heard him groan against you, the vibration prolonging your climax. He worked you through it, only slowing when you started to squirm from oversensitivity.

When you could breathe again, you looked down at him. His face was flushed, his lips wet and swollen, and he looked at you with such satisfaction and desire that it made you want him all over again.

“Come here,” you said, pulling him up for a kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it made you want him even more. “I need you inside me.”

“Condom,” he said, pulling back slightly. “Do you have-“

“Nightstand,” you gestured, and he reached over, fumbling in the drawer until he found one. You watched as he rolled it on, his hands slightly shaky, and then he was positioning himself between your legs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

“Ready?” he asked, and you loved that he checked, even now, even when you were both desperate for it.

“Yes, fuck, yes-“

He pushed in slowly, and the stretch was perfect, filling you completely. You both groaned at the sensation, and he paused when he was fully seated inside you, his forehead dropping to yours. His arms were shaking slightly with the effort of holding still, and you could see the tension in his jaw.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathed, his voice strained. “So tight and wet and perfect. I need a second or I'm gonna come right now.”

You clenched around him deliberately, and he made a choked sound, his hips jerking. “Don't-fuck-don't do that, I'm trying to-“

“Move,” you urged, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Andy, please move, I need-“

He pulled almost all the way out, then slid back in, and the friction was delicious. He started a slow rhythm, deep strokes that had you gasping, your nails digging into his shoulders. Each thrust hit something deep inside you, and you could feel the pleasure building again already.

“Harder,” you urged, and he obliged, his hips snapping forward with more force. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room along with your moans and his grunts. He shifted the angle slightly, and suddenly he was hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust.

“Oh god, right there, don't stop-“ You were babbling now, incoherent with pleasure, and he maintained that perfect angle, that perfect rhythm, driving you higher and higher.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his face buried in your neck. “So fucking good. I've wanted this for so long. Wanted you for so long.”

His words sent a surge of emotion through you, mixing with the physical pleasure, and you pulled him down for a kiss. It was messy and desperate, all tongue and teeth, and you could feel him getting close, his rhythm starting to falter.

“Wait,” you said, pushing at his chest. “I want-can we-“

He pulled out, looking concerned. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” you assured him quickly. “I just want to be on top.”

His eyes darkened, and he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him. You straddled him, positioning yourself over his cock, and slowly sank down. From this angle, he went even deeper, and you both moaned at the sensation.

You started to move, rolling your hips in a slow grind, and his hands came up to grip your waist. From this position, he had a perfect view of your body, and you could see his eyes roaming over you, your breasts, your stomach, the place where your bodies were joined.

“Fuck, you're so hot,” he groaned, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts. “I love watching you ride me. I love seeing you take what you need.”

You increased your pace, bouncing on him now, and the pleasure was intense. You could feel him so deep, hitting all the right spots, and the friction against your clit was perfect. One of your hands came down to touch yourself, your fingers finding your clit, and Pope's eyes locked on the movement.

“That's so hot,” he panted, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. “Touch yourself. Make yourself come on my cock.”

The dirty talk was unexpected and incredibly arousing, and you rubbed your clit faster, chasing your orgasm. Pope's hands were on your hips now, helping you move, and you could feel him getting close, his cock throbbing inside you.

“I'm gonna come,” you gasped, your movements becoming erratic. “Andy, I'm-“

“Come for me,” he urged, his voice rough. “I want to feel you come. Want to feel you squeeze my cock.”

Your orgasm hit you hard, your whole body tensing, inner walls clenching around him rhythmically. The sensation triggered his own release, and he thrust up hard, groaning your name as he came. You could feel him pulsing inside you, and it prolonged your own pleasure, waves of sensation washing over you.

You collapsed forward onto his chest, both of you breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat. His arms came around you, holding you close, and you could feel his heart racing against your cheek.

For a long moment, you both just lay there, catching your breath, enjoying the afterglow. Then Pope carefully lifted you off him, disposing of the condom before pulling you back against his chest.

“That was...” he started, then trailed off, like he couldn't find the words.

“Yeah,” you agreed, pressing a kiss to his chest. “It really was.”

“I meant what I said,” he murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your back. “About wanting you. This wasn't just... I mean, I really like you. Have for a while.”

You lifted your head to look at him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes. “I really like you too,” you said softly. “This wasn't just a high hookup for me either.”

He smiled, that genuine, slightly awkward Pope smile that you loved, and pulled you in for a kiss. This one was slower, sweeter, full of promise.

“Stay,” you said when you broke apart. “Tonight. Stay with me.”

“Yeah,” he said, his arms tightening around you. “I'd like that.”

Outside, the ocean continued its endless rhythm, and inside, wrapped in Pope's arms, you felt perfectly, completely content. The high was starting to fade, but the feeling of rightness, of finally being where you were supposed to be, only grew stronger.

You dozed for a while, comfortable in the silence, but eventually you felt Pope stir beneath you. “Hey,” he said softly. “You awake?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, not quite ready to move.

“I was thinking...” he started, his hand sliding down your back to cup your ass. “We should probably shower. Get the weed smell off properly.”

You lifted your head, seeing the mischief in his eyes, and grinned. “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” he said, his hand squeezing gently. “Wouldn't want to smell like weed tomorrow. Very irresponsible.”

“So responsible of you,” you teased, sitting up. His eyes immediately dropped to your breasts, and you saw his cock twitch with interest. “Think you can go again?”

“With you?” he said, pulling you down for a kiss. “Definitely.”

The shower was long and steamy, full of soapy hands and slippery skin and Pope pressing you against the tile wall as he fucked you from behind, his hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. The water cascaded over you both, and when you came, it was with his name on your lips and his teeth on your shoulder.

Afterward, you dried off and climbed into bed properly, your sheets still clean just like Pope had wanted. He pulled you against him, your back to his chest, and you felt his lips press against your shoulder.

“This is perfect,” he murmured, echoing his words from earlier on the balcony.

And it was. It really, really was.

© 2026 all rights reserved - miasvelvetvoid. do not modify, plagiarize, feed my work to AI, repost or claim any of my work as your own without permission.

[angelofthepitt]

i need nerdy needy high pope so bad

[ifawns]

jack abbot loves when you tell him how much you love him during sex. he’s so cocky about it, holdin your legs up and grunting out a “yeah? you love me? i love you too, baby” before he’s cumming inside you seconds later. there’s just something about you being so fucked out, pawing at him and trying to hold onto anything while he pounds into you, yet still being so fuckin’ sweet and babbling ‘i love you’s between thrusts that really gets to him.

[greedysadistdaddi]

The intimacy of "I know, baby, I know" while fucking you through another orgasm

[oldbaygoldfish]

homecoming

pairing: andrew “pope” cody x reader

content: pope and reader are in highschool | pope has a fat crush on reader | baz being his usual wacky self | bullying | angst with comfort | poor pope just wanted to impress you | happy ending

🟡 author’s note: this was inspired by that one unreleased ethel cain song that’s trending… i was going to make it completely angsty, but i had to give andrew a happy ending

—

“…what the fuck is that for?” baz barked out, amused by the half-finished poster that sat in the middle of pope’s bedroom.

pope instinctively moved to hide it from his pestering step-brother, but it was too late as baz stepped in, swiftly grabbing the poster board from his grasp.

“will you go to…” baz began to read out aloud, “oh, pope, don’t tell me you’re planning on asking that girl to the dance…” he cooed condescendingly.

pope stiffened, his jaw clenched tightly as baz teased him. “put it down,” he mumbled, biting down the sense of humiliation that always followed after baz’s words.

“alright, alright… no need to get yourself worked up,” he scoffed, carelessly setting it down.

pope let out a relieved huff the second baz left the room, moving to lock his bedroom door before carefully smoothing out the creases that his brother left. he looked down at the poster, his eyes glazing over the colorful letters.

he had been planning to ask you to the homecoming dance for the past few weeks. he even strung julia into it, asking for her guidance and girlish opinion when it came to preparing his homecoming proposal.

sure, he felt incredibly out of place; even borderline foolish for attempting to craft something like this.

but he wanted to do it for you.

he wanted to be someone charming, someone who could impress you, similar to the male leads of the romcoms you adored watching. that reason alone was why pope spent the rest of his night locked away in his room as he finished up the poster, obsessively making sure that every detail was executed just as he planned.

you two had met in science class. your teacher had assigned you as lab partners for the semester at the beginning of the school year. initially, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at not being paired with one of your friends, but pope had turned into a pleasant surprise. despite your peers warning you of pope’s unsettling demeanor, the two of you collaborated well, and eventually it gave way into an easy friendship. it was something that pope held protectively, especially when everyone seemed to prefer baz over him. besides you, there were only two other people in the school who would tolerate his company.

once the day to ask you to the dance finally arrived, he spent the whole class watching you with butterflies flooding his stomach. each time you’d flash him an easy smile or make eye contact with him, he’d feel the mix of nerves and anticipation worsen as the time ticked past.

the bell rung for the final time, dismissing students for the day. pope hurriedly rushed downstairs, his feet carrying him to his locker. “do you… would you want to go to the dance with me?” he muttered to himself, practicing the grand question as he opened his locker.

he reached for the poster and bouquet of crochet flowers he carefully prepared, before heading towards the lobby where he requested you to wait.

as he rounded the corner, he didn't see baz and his football friends waiting, grinning as they prepared to spring their trap. before pope could even take a step towards your direction, the group ambushed him, catching him completely off guard.

he felt his shirt become wet, drenched and slimy with a sharp, pungent smell.

“holy shit, i can’t believe you were actually planning to ask her,” baz scoffed, cracking up at the sight of pope holding the items.

the other guys followed suit, thinking his efforts were some kind of joke.

pope shifted slightly, his heart pounding out of his chest as he felt the halls close in on him.

he felt ridiculous and humiliated, the buzzing in his ears blocking out their continued remarks until something else hit the side of his face.

he looked down, realizing it was a discarded frog leg from the dissection earlier that day.

shit, how was he supposed to face you when he had animal guts splattered over him?

when the poster he had prepared now reeked of formalin?

would you laugh at him as well?

what if he accidentally embarrassed you by asking?

what if this entire time, you had been tolerating him out of sheer politeness?

“it’s bad enough she’s stuck with a nutjob like you. i heard mr. smith had to assign her as your partner because no one else wanted to volunteer,” one of them snickered.

pope couldn’t bear it anymore, quickly turning to rush away from the obnoxious bunch. his vision was too tunneled to realize that he had ran past you in the hall, your brows furrowed at the sight of his distress. he faintly heard you calling his name as he left the building, not realizing that you had picked up the discarded poster and flowers.

pope was thankful that the following day was saturday, at least then he’d be able to hide away from everyone, especially from baz.

he wanted to wring his brother’s neck for orchestrating something like that, but his embarrassment kept him cooped up in his room, not moving an inch even after craig and deran’s attempts to invite him to the skate park.

he only slipped out of the cody compound when he knew nobody would notice, his feet dragged as he walked to the cathedral, the only safe place that he had left. as he reached the entrance, his eyes spotted you seated on the steps.

he almost turned around and fled until he heard your voice, “andrew, wait!”

you were sweating slightly from waiting on the steps for hours, your hands holding onto the poster board and flowers.

“i knew you’d show up,” you sighed happily, flashing him a small smile.

he stiffened as you stopped right in front of him, awkwardly glancing around before his eyes uncomfortably settled on your face. he swallowed nervously, his mouth feeling incredibly dry as he watched you hold up the crochet bouquet.

“you… made these for me? to ask me to homecoming?” you asked.

he gave you a brief nod, his fingers drumming against the side of his thigh. “…it’s a gift. my sister told me that you’d like it,” he mumbled.

that earned him a wider smile from you, your eyes lighting up.

he cleared his throat, before replying, willing himself to speak a little louder. “i’m not going anymore,” he clarified, the sound of their teasing laughter still ringing in his ears. “you… you should go with someone else.”

“…well we don’t have to go to the school dance. we can just do our own thing,” you suggested. “i didn’t really wanna go anyways. it’s just gonna be a bunch of sweaty teenagers packed into the gym,” you shrugged.

pope’s brows furrowed, the thought of you choosing to spend time with him rather than attending a special event seemed out of reach.

“oh! how about the science museum? it’ll be open late if we go on a friday night…” you continued, rambling on and on about other potential options, other things that included you spending time with him.

pope quietly stared at you, his mind struggling to catch up with the sudden shift in reality. he had been ready to crawl into a hole and never come out, but now, you were standing right in front of him, casually pitching a night at the museum as if it were the most obvious choice in the world.

“the science museum?” he repeated, the tension slowly bleeding out of his shoulders.

“yeah! unless, you think looking at fossilized bones and learning about our solar system is too lame for a friday night?” you teased.

a tiny, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of pope’s lips. “i heard they’re also opening a new wing for exotic bugs and insects,” he informed.

“so… is that a yes?” you asked softly, leaning in slightly, your eyes searching his. “andrew, i never cared about the dance. i just wanted to go with you,” you added, sensing his hesitation.

the lingering sting of embarrassment finally vanished, replaced by something warmer, something steady fluttering in his chest. his drumming fingers went still against his leg. he looked down at the handmade gift in your hands, then back up at your face, realizing you meant every word.

“yeah,” he said, a shy, but genuine smile breaking across his face. “…i’d really like that.”

without thinking, you reached out and gently squeezed his wrist. “it’s a date, then.”

pope felt his cheeks heat up, but for the first time all week, he didn’t mind at all. “it’s a date,” he agreed.

[angelofthepitt]

we need more young pope content on tumblr as a community actually

[orbleton]

[angelofthepitt]

readers nickname could be "Care" from her last name, then its not really a name and theres no y/n :3

okay i literally love this idea and it IS going to be used

[angelofthepitt]

i wanna start writing a rafe cameron x carrera!reader series so bad but idk how to do it without giving carrera!reader a name or calling them y/n 💔

[missmanlykink]

imagine. . .ur his mentee who he has an extremely inappropriate relationship with and he gives you two thumbs up and that sexyyyyy ass look after you do some impressive doctor shit. ugh…need.

[wesandresons]

SHAWN HATOSY as ANDREW ‘POPE’ CODY ANIMAL KINGDOM SEASON 2, EPISODE 5

[lalaleeiillaa]

“yeah i read a lot!”

“oh awesome! What books do you read?”

[blossom2blossom]

treating whitaker like a blorbo will always be indicative to me that a tumblr user has underlying misogynistic and racist biases like you people would say a broken chopstick dredged out of an nyc sewer was transmasc coded and had religious trauma if it was white

[lovesickmira]

hi we as a society need more ethel cain inspired andrew cody/shawn hatosy fics. I will be supporting this concept