request (anon): Hi!! Currently requesting a pope x reader, reader loves to tan, pope likes to watch but always tells her how bad tanning is for her skin but will always put on sunscreen for her, bring her food, and gets so turned on by her tanlines
pairing: Andrew 'Pope' Cody x Fem!Fiance!Reader
contains: MDNI! no use of y/n, smut, fluff, editing of canon
word count: 3.9k
authors note: well this got a little out of hand. i made them fiances because i wanted to and i can!! i hope i made anon proud.
Pope loves his pool days alone with you. He loves your little bikinis. He loves rubbing you down with sunscreen. He loves watching you suck on the popsicles he brings you when you get too hot. He loves pulling your swimsuit to the side to look at your tan lines. Best of all, he loves the pale line that you get on your ring finger underneath your massive engagement ring that you refuse to take off for pretty much anything. He wanders outside to the backyard where you lay on a lounger soaking up the sun. You’re in a tiny yellow bikini, one of his favorites, and a small pair of oval sunglasses, twirling the string of your bottoms around your finger. You smile as he walks towards you with a cherry popsicle in hand.
“Thank you my love,” you say, leaning up and placing a small kiss on his lips before taking the ice pop from him, “sit with me,” you shift on the lounger, laying on your side, squishing your tits together as Pope sighs.
“We can’t both fit there,” he says. You pout before taking the tip of the popsicle in between your lips.
“I can lie on top of you,” you say, reaching towards him as he lets out a little laugh, shaking his head.
“You’re gonna be the color of the popsicle soon if you keep sitting out here,” his eyes rake over your perfect body and he takes his bottom lip between his teeth.
“I’m fine,” you say, sitting up, looking down at yourself.
“You’re getting pink,” he says, poking a finger into your brightening thigh, “you need more sunscreen,”
“But my popsicle,” you say dramatically, “I’m busy,”
“Come here,” he says, patting his chair. You smile and crawl in front of him, sitting yourself between his open legs. You like it better when he puts your sunscreen on anyway, his strong, warm hands all over your body… it’s heaven. You feel him twist your hair up and clip it back with the claw clip that was on the table beside you. You hear the squeeze of the sunscreen bottle then feel his big hands rubbing smooth circles into your back. Heated, sensual, a slow demonstration of his affection. He spreads his hands across your lower waist, grazing the elastic of your swim suit bottoms. His hands move up your back pressing into your soft skin. Your head falls to the side a little and you let out a quiet moan as he massages the cream into your shoulders, working out any tension you’ve been carrying. He places a small kiss on your exposed neck.
Pope pulls you back so your back is pressed against his front. He squirts more sunscreen on his hands and slowly starts rubbing circles across the soft skin of your stomach. He rests his chin on your shoulder watching his big hands splay against your belly as you suck on the popsicle, staining your lips red. He brings his hands up your body and slips one beneath the fabric of your little bikini, pinching your nipple lightly.
“Andy,” you whine, turning your face into his neck, “not nice,”
“Can’t help myself,” he mumbles, “you look so sexy,”
He keeps spreading the cream over your skin, reaching under your swimsuit again and cupping your soft tit in his warm hand.
“You’re being mean,” you squirm against him.
“I’m almost done,” he rasps. He runs his hands down your arms one at a time as you switch your popsicle from one hand to the other, licking and sucking it, imagining it’s something else…
“Stand up for me, pretty girl,” Pope whispers in your ear. You sigh before standing slowly and turning to face him. He moves to the end of the lounger, picking up your foot and putting it between his legs. He rubs the cream up your legs, squeezing down on your supple thighs as you suck on the last bit of your popsicle while looking down at him. He looks up at you in awe before placing a small kiss on the inside of your leg.
“All done,” he whispers against your thigh.
“Mmm, do you have to be?” you whine, tossing the popsicle stick to the side, straddling his lap, twisting your fingers into his damp curls, “that felt so good.”
“Yeah?” He grips on your waist.
“You need sunscreen too,” you say, looking down at him, “on your chest I think,”
“Is that so?” he smiles up at you.
“Mhm,” you bite your lip, pushing him back against the chair, squeezing the cream onto your hand. You draw your initial on the center of his chest in the sunscreen, then make a white heart around it before slowly rubbing it in. Your fingers graze the ridges and bumps of his strong stomach, he feels himself tensing under your soft hands. You start to play with the elastic waistband of his shorts.
“You are very good with your hands,” he groans as you grind down on him slightly. You giggle before bending forward. Your plush lips taste like sweet cherries against his and he moans into your mouth. His hands trail down from your waist taking two handfuls of your ass making your gasp against him. He just starts to pull on the tie of your bikini top when a grating voice cuts across the backyard.
“Did we just walk into the beginning of a porno?” Craig calls from across the pool. You roll your eyes, sitting up and looking over your shoulder.
“I’m sure you’d like that you sick fuck,” you call back, standing, turning, and sitting between Pope’s legs. He wraps his arms around your waist as you lean back into him. He smiles into your hair. He loves how despite his brother's relentless efforts to hit on you, you shut him down every single time.
“Jesus, relax,” Craig smirks, kicking off his shoes and peeling off his shirt before wading into the pool.
“You’re not supposed to tell women to relax,” Baz says before hopping into the pool and dunking.
“Baz is right, Craig,” you say as he resurfaces. Baz smirks at his brother with a look that screams I told you so.
“Whatever man,” Craig says before submerging himself beneath the blue water. Deran quickly follows his brothers into the pool, cannonballing into the deep end.
“Pope, come on,” Deran calls, “we’re gonna do two v. two I need you on my team,”
Pope sighs behind you, placing a kiss on your shoulder then standing, following his brothers into the water. You slide back onto the chair watching Pope through your sunglasses. They shoot the ball back and forth, rough-housing with each other… it’s nice to see Pope like this, a little less tightly wound, a little more carefree. It’s all fun and games for about twenty minutes until Deran elbows Baz in the face and they devolve into bickering and fighting again. Pope swims to the side of the pool as Baz and Deran wrestle each other in the water. You stand and walk over to the edge, sitting and dipping your feet in the blue water. Pope rests his hands on your thighs, now chilly from the water and you sigh at the feeling.
“I think you’ve gotten enough sun for one day,” he says, planting his hands on either side of your thighs, pushing himself halfway out of the water between your legs, placing a cool kiss on your warm lips.
“Is that so?” you say, as he sinks back down into the pool.
“Mhm,” he smirks up at you, “swim with me?”
“Do I have to?” you smile coyly back at him.
“Oh, you wanna be like that?” Pope grins, he grabs your hips, lifting you from the side of the pool, dropping you in the water.
“Andy!” You shout as you surface, a smile of disbelief on your face.
“Andy! Andy!” Craig pitches up his voice, mimicking you.
“You’re so funny, Craig,” you say, voice flat.
“I’m just fucking around,” Craig rolls his eyes at you.
“All your life,” you say, wrapping your arms around Pope’s neck as you press against his back. Pope lets out a sharp breath like a laugh and swims leisurely to the deep end of the pool, pulling you behind him.
“Well, it was nice while it lasted,” you sigh, feeling a little bummed it was no longer just the two of you. The truth was you got along with Pope’s brothers but their timing today had been… less than ideal.
“What was?” Pope says, moving you through the water so your back is against the wall, his arm caging you in.
“Just bein’ alone together,” you sigh, pushing a wet curl off his forehead. Pope smirks, raising an eyebrow.
“Maybe we need to go inside… rinse off…” his hand grips down on your waist.
“Yeah?” you smile, biting your lip.
“Yeah, I think so,” he smiles back, placing a soft kiss on your lips. He pushes out of the pool before reaching you down and pulling you out with ease. He grabs your towel off the chair and wraps you in it, kissing the tip of your nose. He wraps his own towel around his waist, taking your hand, and pulling you inside. The two of you walk down the hall to his bathroom, giddy, dropping your towels on the bathroom floor. He turns the water on and then faces you, taking the string tying the front of your swimsuit together in between his fingertips. He pulls down firmly, your top falling open, exposing your tits.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groans, pushing it off your shoulders and kneeling down in front of you pulling the ties of your bottoms open, making them fall to the floor before placing a kiss on your hipbone. He stands, pushing his swim shorts down, pulling you into the shower. Stepping under the warm water he brushes his lips against yours as you twist your fingers into his curls, pressing your slick bodies against each other. Your kiss is unhurried and languid, tangling your tongues together, moaning into each other's mouths, breathing heavily.
You reach behind him, grabbing the shampoo bottle, squeezing a little dollop on your hands, tangling your fingers into his hair.
“I love your hair,” you sigh, twisting his little ringlets between your fingertips. He squeezes your hips with a look of pure adoration on his face. He takes the bottle from you, squirting a small squeeze on top of your head before lathering your hair with suds. He moves you under the warm flow of water and you run your fingers through your hair, scrubbing the chlorine off you. You pull him under the water to rinse while you run your fingers through your hair with conditioner.
Pope grabs the body wash, putting a generous amount in his palm before slowly lathering your body in soapy bubbles. He runs his fingers across your tan lines, pressing down on the soft skin beneath his fingertips. His hands are all over you, paying particular attention to your chest, twisting your soapy nipples in his fingers. You let out a little moan and he bends forward catching the sound in his mouth.
“That feel good, pretty girl?” he says against your lips.
“Yeah,” you whine, looking down at your tits where he teases your hard nipples in his fingers. You push your hips towards him and he smiles, looking a little too pleased with himself. You run your soapy hands down his hard stomach and grip around his firm pink cock. He lets out a strangled whimper, resting his head on your shoulder. You rest one hand on his stomach and twist the other up and down, slowly tugging his warm shaft in your hand.
“Fuck,” he groans as he grabs your wrist, “I wanna take my time with you,”
“Yeah?” you smirk, running your hands up his body, washing the soap off.
“Yeah,” he says, voice raspy, as he reaches behind him turning off the water. He steps out of the shower first, grabbing a fluffy towel from behind the door, holding it open for you. You step towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him tenderly as he wraps the towel around you, drying you off with gentle hands.
“I love you,” you mumble against his lips.
“I love you,” he squeezes your hip with one hand, grabbing another towel with the other, “so fucking much,” He wraps his own towel around his waist before taking your face in his hands, kissing you sweetly again. You giggle against his lips, slowly deepening the kiss, swiping your tongue across the defined ‘M’ of his cupid’s bow. He parts his lips, slipping his tongue against yours as you moan against each other. He turns you so your back is against the bathroom counter before hoisting you up, resting you on the tile. You gasp at the feeling of the cool countertop against your warm skin and he smirks against you.
Pope slowly undoes the top of your towel, letting it fall behind you, exposing your body to him once more. He leans into you, running his tongue over the sharp tan lines on your chest, licking between your tits as you sigh, gripping the edge of the counter. He slowly bends at the knee, taking your left hand in his, kissing the back of your hand, down to your engagement ring, all the way to your finger tip. He sucks your finger into his mouth as he settles on his knees between your legs. He pulls off your finger with a soft pop before pushing between your thighs, spreading his hands over your stomach, letting his thumbs trace where the dark line on your abdomen meets the lighter skin of your pelvis.
He kisses the defined line, dropping his mouth down, his hot breath fanning over your throbbing pussy as you wait for him to do something, anything, to make the ache go away. You move one hand to his hair, the other resting on the counter, a soft plink sound coming from where your ring hits the tile. Pope leans forward, licking a long, flat line up your slit, your legs tremble at the sensation. He pulls back just slightly to take in the state of you, looking up at your body, the outline of your swimsuit marked on your supple skin. His eyes drop back down to your core.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he says, admiring your glistening center. He spits on your clit making you flinch, gripping down on his hair and the counter simultaneously. He smirks at your reaction, “how come you’re so wet, pretty girl?” he breathes onto you.
You roll your head back and push your hips up.
“I- You- Andy,” you’re having trouble gathering your words, feeling a tight coil build inside you in anticipation. You run your fingers through his hair trying to focus, “you make me so wet,”
Pope smirks and licks another firm, flat line up your pussy, holding your hips in place. He laps up the sticky mess between your thighs, running his tongue along you in broad strokes. He’s licking you sloppily before he sucks your clit into his mouth and you shudder, letting out a small, high-pitched whine. He slips his tongue in and out of his mouth slurping at your clit creating a low, pulsing sensation. He’s devouring you, drinking up the sweetness at your core and melting at the sounds you're making that fill his chest with heat. Your legs start to press in around his head and he knows you’re close. He reaches one hand up your chest and takes your hard nipple between his fingers, rolling it tightly, creating a throbbing sensation in your chest.
“I’m gonna come,” you breathe, “I’m-” you can’t even get the words out before it crashes over your, you can feel him everywhere. Your head pushes back against the mirror as you whimper and whine out your orgasm. Pope licks your cum up slowly, trying to be careful because of your sensitivity, but still makes your legs tremble at the feeling. Once he’s satisfied he slowly kisses up your body, placing a light kiss on your sore nipple, before kissing your neck.
He stands to his full height, taking his cock in his hand, jerking himself slowly. You look up at him, eyes wide and pleading. He grins, reaching down and squeezing your hip with his left hand before he taps the tip on your clit making you let out a little squeak. You both look down between your legs, his thick, angry cock flushed pink, guiding his tip slowly to the opening of your pussy. You whimper as he starts to gently push in.
He bends forward and captures your lips in a searing kiss, his fingers digging into your hips, your hands tangling into his curls. Your mouth falls open in pleasure, too overwhelmed by the sensation of him stretching you out to make a sound. He presses into you fully, staring into your eyes, your brow creasing in pleasure. You arch your back shifting the angle slightly before Andrew pulls his hips back.
He fucks you slowly at first, stretching you out at an aching pace. You place one hand on his abs, watching his cock squeeze in and out of you, heart racing at the sight. A creamy white ring forms against the hair at the base of his shaft, and you tighten your stomach clamping down harder on him, gripping the curls at the back of his neck with your right hand. Andrew lets out a low groan, moving one of his hands to your face kissing you hard and slow, just like how he fucks you. You moan into his mouth and feel his abs flex under your hand, making his cock twitch inside you.
He pushes your knee up so your foot is resting on the counter, pulling you into him while gripping your ass. He looks into the reflection of the mirror behind you, your ass jiggling with each one of his deep thrusts as he runs his finger over the path of your tan line. The air around you is heavy, your bodies slowly becoming dewy as you press up against each other.
“Andy,” you breathe, he pulls back eyes scanning your face, “you feel so good,”
A small smile forms on his lips and he leans forward to kiss you again. Your tongues roll over each other and you swallow the moans and gasps coming out of your mouths. He keeps one hand securely on your lower back, holding you up, and brings his other hand up to your breast. He runs his fingertips over your nipple, the sensation sending a shiver up your spine as you push your chest further into his hand. He cups it, caressing your soft skin gently rolling your nipple with his thumb as he continues his relentless thud of his cock in and out of you.
“I wanna watch,” you whine. Pope scrunches his eyebrows in confusion for a moment before his eyes flick over your shoulder to the reflection of you two in the mirror. His head falls back as he groans at the thought.
“Yeah, dirty girl?” he growls, keeping his cock pressed flushed inside you, “you gotta ask nicely,”
“Please can I watch you fuck me in the mirror,” you say, pressing yourself up against him.
“Fuck,” he moans, running his fingers through his damp curls. He grips down on your waist before slowly pulling out of you, making you wince. He pulls you off the counter, turning you around so fast your head spins. He grabs one of your tits in one of his big hands, the other dropping down to cup your aching pussy, “you wanna see how pretty you look when I fuck you?”
“Yeah,” you whimper, looking him right in the eyes in the mirror. He rubs small, slow circles on your clit, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Yeah? You wanna watch yourself getting fucked on my cock?”
“Please Andy,” you whine. He grabs your wrists, putting your hands down on the countertop, bending your forward slightly. You watch him in the mirror as he looks down, lining up the tip of his thick cock with your dripping pussy. He bends forward, his hard body in your back, taking your chin in his hand, tilting your head up so you’re looking at the pair of you in the mirror. You let out a moan as he pushes into you, overwhelmed by the sensation of him stretching you out mixed with the way he looks, curls wild, body slick with sweat, muscle taught from his exertion, big hands on your hip.
You can’t take your eyes off each other. Both of your cheeks are flushed, lips parted, chests heaving. He lets out a throaty groan as his eyes drop down to where your tits bounce when he pounds into you. He can’t help himself, reaching up and cupping your juicy tits in his hands, tweaking and rolling your nipples relentlessly, making them ache. You bring one of your hands up, gripping onto his wrist to keep yourself upright.
“Touch yourself,” he growls. You bring your other hand between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit. Your face immediately contorts in pleasure, your legs start to tremble.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he breathes and his hips stutter. He can’t believe how perfect you are, how perfectly you take his cock.
“Andy,” you whine, “I’m gonna come-”
He keep fucking you fast and hard, as he feels his own orgasm mounting in his stomach.
“Yeah?” he groans, feeling immense cockiness at the state you’re in, “come for me.”
He feels your grip tighten around his wrist and your eyes squeeze shut and your legs shake as a chorus of moans and breaths spill out of your lips.
“Andy-” you squeak out as you orgasm on his cock, pulsing and squeezing down on him. He picks up his pace slightly, barely pulling out, making small thrusts against you as his hands grip on your tits.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he groans, “look at me,”
His cock flexes as you flick your eyes, sultry and dark with lust, up to his in the mirror. He feels the hot coil inside him breaking, staring at you as your eyes rake over his face, his mouth hanging open in a deep groan. He thrusts into you hard, fucking through his orgasm as you squeak and whimper at the feeling of his hot cock exploding inside you. His hips slow and he wraps his arms around your waist, breathing heavy as his thick cum drips out of you.
Pope cups your jaw in his hand, turning your face and pulling you into a searing kiss.
“I love you so fucking much,” he breathes into your mouth. You giggle, placing little pecks on his cheeks, turning in his arms, kissing across the freckles on his face.
“I love you so fucking much,” you whisper, “and I love fucking you so much,”
Pope breathes out a laugh, burying his face into your neck, rubbing circles on the small of your back.
“Marry me,” he mutters against your soft skin.
“I already am,” you giggle, taking his face in your hands, pressing a gentle kiss to his warm lips.
summary: you and pope find out that you're pregnant. again. after all these years, your husband still can't help but get excited about you having another one of his kids. and he'll do just about anything for some alone time to celebrate.
contains: MDNI! so much married fluff, pope and reader are sooo in love and have four kids, none of them have names bc thats for you to decide! youngest has a nickname though, reader throws up from morning sickness, pregnancy reveal, no explicit smut but: erections incoming, sex mentioned, orgasm talk, foreplay thats maybe primal? (idk he chases her lol), talks of being horny annndd thats it i think!
wc: 3.4 k & masterlist
“How was drop off?” You hum from your place in the kitchen when you hear your husband get back from taking your three oldest kids to daycare.
Pope grimaces as he shuts shuts the front door behind him, and moves through the living room, “The twins decided they hate it there. They roped in their previously innocent younger sister to start a ‘we want home’ chant.”
“Sounds about right,” You giggle as you bring a spoonful of baby food to your youngest sons lips in his high chair.
Today was an absolute mess. One of the most hectic mornings to date, in fact.
Your 5 year olds, the twins, refused to let you dress them in matching outfits but also vetoed different ones. After you begged on your hands and knees for them to just put some clothing on, they landed on the same shirt but different colored bottoms.
Then your middle child, the 3 year old, who was usually quiet and sleepy in the mornings, decided to splash your husband with so much water in the tub that he had to change. Twice. Screaming from bath times' start to finish.
Thankfully, they have daycare five days a week, and because it's a weekday, you got to ship the crazy trio off to school. Getting to spend the second half of your unbelievably early morning with your one year old.
Pope shrugs off his jacket, leaving him in a tight black t-shirt and jeans. He's already dropped the car keys in their dedicated tray by the time he presses a soft kiss to your temple. Before you can formally greet each other, his gaze snags onto the mess his son is making, whose chubby little cheeks are coated in mushy carrots and peas, onesie stained so aggressively you can barely see the yellow lions on it.
“Food is ‘sposed to go in your mouth, grumpy,” Pope takes a thick thumb and carefully wipes off a big glob of mush from your sons button nose.
'Grumpy' is the nickname one of the twins gave their new baby brother when he came out of the womb having the exact same twisted scowl as their daddy.
You nudge your shoulder into Popes side with a small huff, “He’s trying his best.” You then turn your attention back to the angel in the high chair, "Aren’t you sweet boy? Yes you are! Yes you-"
Your baby talk effectively dies in your throat when you feel bile replacing it suddenly. Your stomach lurches at the same time you do, slapping a palm over your mouth, dropping the tiny spoon you were mid airplaning and diving for the sink.
Once you’re done vomiting up the half cup of coffee and the single blueberry that fell off your middle child's plate that you’ve eaten since 5 am, you sag against the sink.
"What's wrong? Are you sick?" Pope steps behind you to grip your forearms, keeping you upright, immediately concerned and wanting to fix the problem.
You lean back against his body and breathe for a second. Letting his strong chest and warmth flood your senses enough to quell the uneasiness in your belly.
"No, I don't think so," You answer truthfully. "I've just been super nauseous the past few…"
You trail off as the familiar puzzle pieces fall into place as they have done many times before since you've been married to Pope Cody.
You slowly turn around to face him, your features morph into a wide eyed, horrified gape.
"Oh my god..." You breathe and thats all you can manage.
Pope's hazel eyes literally light up, but his face stays in its usual tight expression. You can tell it's because he doesn't want to speak to soon.
You had never believed your husband to be a superstitious man, but before you had even had kids, you once you thought you were pregnant, and he got so excited that he bought you a big ass SUV so you could- in his own words- 'drive all his kids around when he's not there to'.
You hadn't been pregnant, though. You found Pope crying in the shower after you told him it was a false positive. You made him and yourself feel better by having a whole lot of shower sex that did irreparable damage to your water bill that month. But the two of didn't even end up caring, because three weeks later, a real positive showed up on a pregnancy test.
Grumpy babbles from his high chair and you realize you and Pope are still just staring at each other wordlessly. After another beat, he blinks and his jaw works just once, “Go take one right now.”
You know what he's referring to. One of the many pregnancy tests you have lying around the house due to the literal sports team you have been popping out.
Going to the bathroom, finding a test and taking it is all a blur. It all becomes clear again when you shuffle back into the kitchen.
"Oh my god!" You shriek in disbelief and utter exhaustion when you flash him the test with two lines so dark you feel another wave of nausea threaten to spill over.
"How could you do this to me again!”
A smile finally breaks onto Pope's face. A big goofy one that shows off the crooked teeth and crinkling eyes that you love so much that got you into this mess in the first place.
This particular smile he's sporting is one that you’ve only seen a few times with him. The first was when you said you would go out with him, the second was when you told him you loved him back, and then it appeared every single time you found out you were pregnant.
You knew what day this pregnancy came from. It was the last time you had sex, which was three weeks ago. A quickie in the laundry room during everyones nap time.
You squint at him. Throwing up an accusing finger and taking a step back when he reaches for you.
“I told you you should’ve worn a condom!” You practically hiss.
Not that you really care your pregnant again.
You’re truly always excited to have kids with Pope. Obviously... because you have so many. But right now, it’s barely 8 am and you’re pretty sure that your throw up further clogged the garbage disposal that one of the twins shoved blocks down this morning.
Pope blinks at you, scrunching his handsome face up as if he genuinely doesn't understand the notion, “You’re my wife. ‘m not using a fucking condom.”
"Andrew!" You gasp as he finally closes in on you. "Grumpy is right there!”
You let him tightly wrap his arms around you. Because you're tired, nauseous and now a type a nervous that you haven't felt in over a year. His hold is the only thing that keeps you sane in this moment.
He presses his face into your neck, “ ’S fine.”
Your hands encircle his tree trunk waist, grip probably too tight and exposing your worry, but Pope doesn't say anything.
You glance to your youngest son who is your husbands pocket sized version, then whisper into Pope's chest, "No cursing. He’s old enough to hear words and repeat them.”
Pope presses his body further into yours as if trying to meld the two of you together. Your cheeks heat as you feel the hardness of him that's now standing at full attention against you. The heavy weight of his bulge brings pressure on the outside of your belly and pools warmth inside of it.
Pope's breath tickles your neck, “You think he’s old enough to look after himself while mommy and daddy go cuddle?”
Cuddle.
The word the two of you started using when the twins started catching onto to when their parents started kissing and pawing at each other in the kitchen and then abruptly called for everyone’s bed time at 7:30 pm.
You pull back and swat at his shoulder, “Andrew!” feigning incredulity even though you have to discreetly squeeze your thighs together.
“Cmon, I’ll be quick,” he says through the kisses he starts leaving on your neck.
You snort, “Romantic.” You manage to steel your mind just enough to push Pope off and the thought of getting to mount him as you cross the kitchen to your baby boy. “You better not’ve been serious about leaving our one year old unattended, or mommy will never cuddle with you ever again.”
Despite your threat, you see Pope bite his lip when you call yourself mommy.
He slowly looks you up and down. Even with your hair slightly wet from your first shower in days, baby food accompanying the throw up on your face, and one of his giant t-shirts hanging off your shoulder, the heat still simmers in his eyes. Needy and hot. It makes your face grow warm and you have to turn away from him.
After a beat of him silent behind you, you hear him grunt dramatically.
He mutters, “Fine. I guess can wait until Friday.”
Which is when you’ll drop the kids off at your parents house. It’s your designated date night (even though you never even leave the bedroom). But you’ve missed almost a whole months worth because one of the twins having a fever one night and then there was a toddler ballet recital the next and all that other wonderful parenting crap. So you’re both… pent up, to say the least.
His footsteps sulk out of the kitchen and stalk upstairs behind you, huffing and puffing as he goes.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as all the heated anticipation leaves your body. You glance at the calendar covered in parent teacher conference sand sports events that hangs on the fridge.
Okay, it's Monday. You can wait four days. Right??
Your focus lands on Grumpy, you then realize that Andrew had finished feeding him while you were upstairs peeing on a stick. The familiar steady ease of Pope being your rock in this marriage has some of the anxiety about being pregnant again fade away.
"Da," Grumpy chirps.
You pick him up and nuzzle his nose with yours, “I know. Daddy is so dramatic, isn’t he?”
Your one year old giggles as if he agrees with you.
About a half an hour later, Pope is upstairs changing Grumpy as you empty the dishwasher. Your husband held onto his scowl he passed onto your youngest the whole time, throwing a fit that he can't have sex with his wife after finding out she's pregnant with his kid.
You had rolled your eyes and given him a quick kiss on the cheek after you brushed your teeth, then came downstairs to tidy up the mess that your children left in the living room and kitchen this morning.
Your brow furrows as an unexpected knock comes from the font door, and that furrow deepens when your neighbor, who you ask to babysit sometimes when no one else is around, is on the other side of it.
"Oh, Hi Bertha," You can't hide the confusion in your tone. "Can I help you?"
She nods once, big framed silver glasses that match her hair slide down her long nose, "I'm here for baby Cody."
You open your mouth to tell her you have no idea what she's talking about, but are interrupted by Pope appearing from behind you. He has Grumpy and a diaper bag in hand.
"Thanks," He says curtly as he hands off your baby boy. "The family matter isn't too serious, so we should we only be two-” then his gaze flicks to yours and his mouth quirks sideways to hold back his smirk and he corrects himself, “-maybe three hours.”
Your jaw drops. Not entirely believing that your husband lied about a family emergency just so he can get some alone time with you. But before you can say anything, Pope plants a kiss to Grumpy's cheek, mutters a goodbye to Bertha, and slams the door.
After a single blink of gawking at him, you throw your hands up.
You absentmindedly take a few steps backwards as you shriek, “Oh my god!" You continue to wave your hands around until your opposite him, the coffee table sitting in between you. "You’re unbelievable, Andrew!”
Your husband simply shrugs, “Decided I couldn’t wait.”
You scoff, the delirium of being a mother of four and the apprehension coming from the prospect of a fifth already starting a tiring mental battle in your mind.
“I am not having sex with you! It’s barely 9am and you just-" pregnancy brain kicks into overdrive and frustration bubbles up as you fight to string a sentence together- "You just carted off our youngest son to our neighbor!”
Pope scoffs in response, as if you would ever actually deny him. Annoyance prickles up your spine, adding to your already formed aggravation.
This man has the nerve to get you pregnant again and be all smug about it?
When he tries to round the coffee table to reach you, you step away, crossing your arms and basically glaring at him.
Pope raises a brow. He takes another step forward, you take another step back. After a second of confusion, a mischievous glint darkens his eyes.
He licks his lips, “Hmmm you haven’t played hard to get in a long while sweetheart.”
Your breath catches.
This is... not where you were expecting this to go.
You manage to fake an eye roll, trying to act as if his words didn't make your stomach tighten, “I’m not playing hard to get. It’s not happening.”
The words don’t fall as stern as you’d like them to, because you feel a dull throbbing sensation starting to build up in between your legs.
Damn your husband and his sexy face, voice and body.
A sly smile overtakes his face as the two of you start to slowly circle the coffee table. Pope's voice morphs into a taunt that send goosebumps across the back of your neck. “Wanna make me work for it? Okay honey, I’ll work for it. Don't gotta worry 'bout that.”
Nervous laughter bubbles out of you as you try to fend off the flush of arousal that he’s probably already spotting from a mile away.
A tense game of cat and mouse ensues as you round a corner and he rounds the opposite one. Over and over and over.
“You don’t need to work for anything. We’re not having sex.” You get even more irritated when your voice waivers embarrassingly on the last three words. Your husband tracks the sound and hunches over slightly, as if he is literally trying to snatch you up you like a hunter catches an animal.
You don't really want to think about why it sends a rush of dampness to the boxers- his boxers- that you're wearing.
You have to stay strong. Follow through with your scolding. Why can't you ever deny him? Probably because he has the biggest-
Pope dawns a casual look. Nonchalant almost. But his eyes stay blazed as they take in your skittish steps and uneven breathes.
A shrug accompanies his next wide stalk around the corner of the wooden table, “Alright. Stop walkin' away from me then.”
You feel your body betray you, growing all hot and fuzzy in wicked anticipation as you try to steady your voice, “I will. Once you stop following me.”
His movements falter for a second, thinking about it. He looks at you, then the remaining space between you, and opens his mouth.
“Nah.”
He lunges for you.
Reacting instinctively, you yelp and jump sideways out of his reach that grazes your waist. You land parallel to him across the table once again.
He groans as if this is the sexiest foreplay he could ever ask for, “Fuck sweetheart. You want me to chase you?”
How did you end up here? Weren't you just throwing up in the sink??
Damn these pregnancy and postpartum hormones that make Pope Cody even more irresistible.
While you are very flustered by the ridiculousness of the whole scenario, you are also, very turned on.
You've completely forgotten why you said no to sex in the first place at this point. The only notion that rings clear in your mind is that you really, really want him to chase you.
“N-no.” A lie.
Your hesitation has him chuckle darkly, “My day just keeps gettin’ better.” It’s spoken quiet, meant for his inner thoughts but slips through the cracks in the heat of the moment.
Pope slowly eyes you up like you’re his prey and then he cocks his chin up once. A vague gesture to the rest of the house that sits behind you.
His already deep voice drops an impossible amount of octaves as he rasps, “Better get movin’ sweetheart.”
Your eyes widen. Heart dropping all the way into the basement where only Pope goes because theres crickets down there.
You turn and bolt through the living room before he can make his next move.
A disbelieving gasp-shriek sounds from you as you run as fast as you can through the first floor of the house he bought you.
The exhilarating rush you get at the though of him chasing you has your heartbeat thump in your ears and somewhere else you don't need to dignify with naming. You haven't looked back once as you reach the bottom of the stairs.
Your racing mind has half a thought that you've gained some distance, but then you hear Pope's heavy footsteps thud behind you in the hallway.
Then up the stairs.
Then into your bedroom.
You squeal like a school girl when he finally gets his hands on you.
Pope- gently because he would never actually hurt you- throws you onto the bed, easily pinning you under him within seconds.
He has one large hand holding both of your own over your head. The rest of his body is pressed on top of you, faces inches apart. You feel your hearts rapidly beat against each other as you're chest to chest.
“You can never outrun me,” His rough whisper ghosts your lips, making you realize you haven't kissed all morning.
You close the gap and place featherlight kiss to his mouth. Your voice is delicate despite what you just did and the position he now has you in, “I never want to.”
All the buzz starts to settle in your body. Melting into a safe and glowy feeling that engulfs you and your soulmate.
He stares at you for a second when you pull back. The heat in his gaze melts into something different. Something softer.
He exhales through his nose, gulping audibly as he mumbles what he always does when he finds out you're pregnant.
“Thanks for givin' me another one.”
You smirk at him, wrapping your legs around his thick waist tightly, “Could be two again.”
You giggle at the pleasure coated groan that sounds from him at the thought.
Pope presses his face into your neck, pressing his hips into you. When you feel the large bulge that has made it's way back into his jeans, you know just how much he liked that thought.
He places hot kisses up your neck until you’re squirming beneath him. He says lowly into through kisses, “I love you so much.”
You whisper back, “I love you too, Andrew.”
“So much," he continues. "Too much. I wish there was a way I could show you how much.” His breath is warm on your skin, the affection only you see from him sends your heart fluttering.
Pope means it sweetly. A true testament to romance.
But there’s still some adrenaline coursing through you from the chase, so you can’t help but tease, “You could give me an orgasm for each kid?”
He exhales a sharp laugh against your collarbone then drops his hand, releasing both of yours. Your fingers automatically shoot up into his auburn curls with their newfound freedom.
His lips twitch upwards when he pulls back to meet your eyes. He softly presses his lips to yours, murmuring, “Sounds like a good start.”
“Start?” you raise a brow at him.
Pope grinds his hips firmly into yours, drawing a soft moan from you. His tone gets serious. Determined.
"Honey, I bought us over two hours of alone time. I plan on giving you three times the amount of our kids.”
authors note: no smut lol sorry but i am obsessed with the idea of husband pope who is so in love and comfortable with you teehee! i never write fluff idek if this is fluff because its literally all about sex lmao. anywayssss let me know if i should so like a mini series about this little universe AND if yall want a part two where they actually have sex when pope finds out its twins again?!?!??!
pope and his possessive girlfriend who he didn't really believe when she initially told him she had jealousy issues. it starts to come out in somewhat... subtle ways; slotting yourself into his side or onto his lap at any moment you feel like your territory is being threatened, leaving hair clips/ties in his car on purpose, or even wearing body glitter that will undoubtedly leave traces everywhere. it's not until craig makes a comment that you're marking your territory on pope like a dog does he seem more aware of it. craig points out to him that only a "crazy chick" leaves a trail of hickeys down neck that undoubtedly lead further down popes body then where he can see. by this point, there's really no stopping you and, frankly, pope didn't want to.
a sense of warmth, pride bloomed in his chest every time you placed yourself in his embrace. sitting on his lap, taking his arms to wrap them around your waist or guide his hand to slide in the back pocket of your pants while you pressed into him at any given moment. sitting in deran's bar, on a stool with pope standing beside you when a girl walks by making eyes at him, he couldn't describe the exact reason why he felt the carnal need to pound you into the next day when you tugged him by the belt loops of his jeans until he stood between your legs. or even why he felt himself stiffening his jeans when you slid your hand on his hip beneath his shirt, nails grazing his abdomen and v-line, tugging him down by his hair with your freehand to kiss him heatedly. slipping your tongue in his mouth, kissing like two teenagers who've had their first taste of each others flesh, all the while you're staring the poor girl down who thought she could ever stand a chance against coming between you and him. he felt a small inkling to maybe say something when he watched you stick your foot out and smirk watching the girl tumble. the poor girl who was pancaked on the floor had brushed up against him in her drunken stupor while making her way around the pool. but he couldn't, not when you looked at him so sickeningly sweet.
he definitely should've checked you on the bratty possessive behavior when he brought you back home for the typical cody family dinner. baz had brought cath so it was only right that he brought you along. over the years, cath's resentment towards baz for the life he had brought her into had grew tenfold when she watched you take the life she could've had with pope. of course, she never loved pope the way that you did, the way he deserved. it didn't stop her from feeling like maybe there was a chance to get that back. it was only a moment, to anyone else it was fleeting but to you, to you it was like time had frozen and you were seeing red. pope was on his usual cleaning frenzy after dinner and cath came into "help". the context of situation was irrelevant, all you could focus on was the way she was looking at him, hand on his arm and eyes desperately searching for any indication that maybe he'd want her still. their backs were to you when you slammed the wine glass onto the floor, shattering it to millions of glittering pieces. pope's body jumps a bit at the sheer surprise before he's immediately rushing over to check on you, tears welling in your eyes as you mumble 'm'so sorry'. cath's hand drops to her side as she watches the way coddled you, checking for cuts and making sure your okay. he had dropped his attention from her so quickly their should've been no doubt in her mind that the version of pope that loved her wasn't there anymore. she should've really known when she saw the cold stare in your eyes when just for a beat, you pulled back the sniffling so she could really see who pope belonged to.
even more so, cath should've know when she passed by pope's bedroom where the door was cracked ever so slightly. in his haste to taking you back to his bedroom, you seemingly forgot to close his bedroom door all the way. pinning your body beneath his as his pants pooled around his ankles, your bottoms discarded somewhere in the room in the room as he fucks you. your nails are clawing at his back, crying his name with every slap of his hips against yours, cunt drawing him in deeper with squeeze and desperate plea that slipped past your lips. your eyes drifted to that crack, seeing her standing there. tears slipped out of yours.
"you love me andy? do-do you love me?" the question is for him but you're looking dead at her.
"love you so fucking much, angel," he grunts into your neck, punctuating every word with a wet kiss to your neck. his thrusts unrelenting.
"only me andy? you only love me right?" it's desperate, needy. he was right in the palm of your hand but the fear and doubt lingered in the back of your mind. you haven't torn your gaze away, the pleasure so intoxicating it's playing games with your vision. if she was really standing there watching you both like this.
"only you... only you sweetheart. only one i love– fuck, i'm gonna fill this pretty pussy up... oh god, i love you... i only love you–"
Pope’s sitting at the table in the kitchen and you’re standing near the counter, trying to open up a jar by yourself. If he’d noticed, he would’ve helped immediately, but your back’s turned to him and his gaze’s fixated on the floor.
Getting frustrated, you click your tongue before speaking. “Andrew, love, come here a sec?”
He’s right behind you in a flash.
“I got it, sweetheart.” it’s all he says, effortlessly opening the jar you’d been struggling with for at least five minutes. You smile mindlessly, shoulder resting against his chest. Looking up to him, your palms find his cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss. “Thank you, love.”
The second time you do it, it’s a completely different situation yet still unintentional.
It’s late at night and in a sleepy haze, you hear the front door open and light footsteps heading towards the bathroom. Reluctantly, you get up to follow them. You find your boyfriend sitting on the edge of the tub, trying to self medicate a wound. Pope doesn’t acknowledge your presence, too focused on how bad the cuts sting. Or at least not until you’re clicking your tongue, head shaking in disapproval.
“Here, let me do it” you offer, taking the bandages and alcohol from his bloody hands.
Andrew’s static, gaze sorrowful. I’m sorry, he wants to say. Kneeling between his parted legs, you deal with the injury. Once you’re done, you plant a kiss on his cracked lips, “it’s okay love”.
It happens accidentally another couple of times, at least, before you slowly start to notice that whenever you click your tongue, Pope draws closer to you, lingering around like he’s excepting something.
So that’s when you start doing it on purpose, kind of playing into seeing how far you can take it before he notices; clicking your tongue every time you need something from Pope and then kissing him after as a thank you.
You try bringing it inside the bedroom as well, once for now: Andrew’s been eating you out for what felt like hours, lapping at your cunt like man starved. You truly are grateful how much he values your pleasure but christ you need him inside you yesterday. Thus, you grab a fist full of curls and force his mug up, causing a whine to escape his throat.
Pope looks completely out of it, blindsided by how puffy your pussy has become due to all his sucking and biting. He’s not even trying to look you in the eyes. That’s when you click your tongue and his gaze snaps up immediately. There’s your Andrew.
“Come up here, ‘need you..” You moan into the open-mouth kiss as soon as he finally sinks into you.
So you keep doing it on purpose. And everything goes great, you’ve successfully pavloved Andrew Cody.
A small click of your tongue and your boyfriend’s hanging around you, waiting to be helpful to you and hopefully getting a kiss in return. You can’t be sure whether he’s figured it out and is simply indulging you or he genuinely has no clue about what you’ve done to him.
However, an answer comes unexpectedly when one day, you’re all at Smurfs. Setting up the table for dinner, you stand outside with Craig talking bullshit as usual, courtesy of being coked out half the time. Deran and Pope are inside, cooking.
Absentmindedly, you click your tongue at something unbelievably idiotic Craig says.
You don’t even realise what you did until Andrew comes up behind you, strong arm wrapping around your hips, placing a sweet kiss on your temple.
“Need something, sweetheart?” His voice is so raspy in your ear that your head feels dizzy for a second. You might’ve clicker trained the man, but the way he’s always so willing to give you anything is a hazard to your self control.
Craig’s gaze flickers between you and Andrew, eyes so wide they might pop out. You’re so lost in your own bubble, that you barely register him laughing at the two of you.
“God damn it brother, she’s got you trained like a fuckin’ dog!” He jokes. And for being on drugs all the time, he’s perceptive, you’ll give him that.
Andrew’s expression goes from soft to confused fast. His back straightens. He hates being the unaware one, being laughed at and you know it.
“What?” He barks, his grip around you getting firmer. As if he’s looking for some grounding within you.
“Don’t worry about it” you don’t mean to sound dismissive, it’s just not the time nor place. Not with his brother teasing. After all, what you two do inside the walls of your own home is no one else’s business.
But Pope’s relentless. Looking at you in search of answers, eyes downright almost begging.
“What’s he talkin about?”
You hate not giving into him, but you truly don’t feel like dealing with his brothers teasing. So you turn to him, palming the back of his neck, “I’ll explain it later, ‘kay love?”
His muscles relax at your touch. Eventually, Andrew nods, slightly hesitant.
“Good boy.” It’s merely a whisper in his ear, barely audible. Only for him.
But you swear under the hand you’re sliding up his forearm, you feel goosebumps spreading over his skin.
i think Pope is a little freak who gets hard at the most mundane things you do. he can’t help himself :((
you’re behind him on the bed, rubbing at his tense shoulders bc he’s been really stressed lately. “you feelin’ better baby?” you ask from behind, getting a shaky yeahh from him. when u finally turn to face him he’s opening his eyes to the tent in his sweats. you’ve got an amused smile on ur face, “what’s got you so excited??” you say before giving him a lil kiss :3
you’re in your laziest outfit: a hair dye stained shirt, his boxers hanging on u loosely, mismatched patterned socks while making a small lunch. he’s literally just woken up from a nap yet he’s stiff as hell watching u move in your shared kitchen. could it be the morning wood? the way his boxers hang off your body in a way he can tell u have nothing else on under em? you just excite him.
he’s coming behind you and burying his face in your neck, and his dick is the first thing that alerts you. “hi baby,” you coo as he rubs at your stomach. “you…need something from me?” “no..maybe, i think it’s cause i just woke up i’m sorry.” it’s ok babyboy!!
he watches from the other side of the couch as you fold laundry, eyes locked on whatever’s on the tv. maybe it’s something maternal about it, or the domesticity of you folding his clothes neatly. he sighs shakily, palming himself between his thighs as he watches u with those big needy eyes.
when you feel his gaze you look over, smiling bashfully at the display he doesn’t try to hide. “you ok honey?” you don’t stop at your task. “mhm…i’m sorry you’re just so…pretty.” “it’s ok. i’ll help you when i’m done, okay?” he just loves his lady so much :((
it goes without saying that you guys have sex probably 3-5 times a week because of this little problem.
i watched sex lies and videotape last night and i think graham dalton is my ideal type
he's very soft spoken and weird and i like how in the end of the movie he pretty much worships the woman he wants (ann) like sliding his fingers through her arm then holding her hand and stuff like mmmhgnhh
also even when he's "mad" he talks soo quietly and he has that twinkle in his eyes when he's horny or doing something intimate and he loves staring and noticing things plus i love his haircut omg #needthat
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