𐂯

i love not being normal about anything, its part of my whimsy

[dreamckay]

— ᨳଓ . twentyfive. she. thought daughter. black. introverted. hopeless romantic. angel - eyed. bisexual. daydreamer. a figment of ur imagination. aries. polka dots and stripes. lover girl. stars. brown - eyed. pink blush. perpetually sleepy. obsessive consumer of my favorite media.

ִֶָ🪽་༘ ⋮ ⌗ ┆ currently obsessed with : the pitt 𐔌 cassie mckay, jack abbot, brendon park, etc ꒱, animal kingdom 𐔌 andrew pope cody ꒱ ... ℰ more soon

[sugartalkingwrites]

the curls and scruff, oh i know DADA

[aphrvdisiac]

my haunted love

synopsis | at work, you’re a driven, intelligent second year resident of pittsburgh trauma medical center. you’ve always had a thing for cassie mckay, but you doubt she’d ever notice you. when she stumbles upon a strip club one night — needing privacy and a place to think — she comes across you, a dancer.

tags | adult language. age gap (24 & 42). adult content — authoritative!dom!cassie, sub!reader, f!ngering, f!nger sucking, dryhump!ng (if you squint), usage of a strap, daddy kink, chok!ng, biting and scratching, spit. author doesn’t know how places like these work so inaccuracy. lana del rey is also mentioned …

author’s note | i do remember how to write stuff like this after all the depressing things i’ve released x

you liked your job, what your future held, and how it felt comforting you were able to help people and take care of them.

your first year of residency was hell, already drowning in student debt and stress from trying to remain perfect as a resident.

but there was always one person who made you feel good at your job — cassie mckay. she took you under her arm the second you needed a mentor, and you learned everything from her, how she talked you through how to stitch up an injury, to how to intubate a patient, or even the praise she gave you for the slightest of things.

you tried not to cling to her, but purposely found any and every reason you could to be around her. you’d go up to cassie, asking for her help with anything, just so you can get her to talk to you more.

that’s how it was for your first residency year; by the second year, you and her were not as talkative, but you tried your best to make her remember you.

you were near the hub, looking at a patient’s chart on the tablet as you heard trinity and dennis approached you. “we’re going to grab some drinks after work. do you want to come?” she asked, and you shook your head. “you never come out!”

“that’s not true. i have pizza dates with you guys,” you reiterated, putting the tablet down. “besides, i need some sleep after days like today.”

“for one, you’ve had pizza with us like two times every month,” trinity recalled, and you rolled your eyes. “just this once?”

“i don’t know,” you mumbled, shrugging.

“i’ll pay for your drinks,” she insisted, but you wouldn’t budge. “this place shouldn’t be your life.”

“i agree,” cassie said, walking past and next to dana’s side. “that’s why i have spa days, or go on walks after work.”

you swallowed thickly, trinity raising a brow to how she saw you gawk at cassie. “dr. mckay — do you think you can convince your favorite resident to join us?” trinity asked, a hint of tease in her tone. “maybe she’ll listen to you.”

cassie’s eyes flickered into yours, a smile playing on her lips. “you’re young, and you should be having fun with your friends,” she stated, and you hummed before you turned to look at trinity, glaring at her. “dana, your input?”

“honey, you’re twenty four years old,” dana said, taking off her glasses and looked at you. “when i was twenty four, i had every bar in my university’s hometown remembering me.”

“i actually like my liver,” you joked, and everyone groaned. “maybe tomorrow, okay?”

“okay fine,” trinity sighed, hands on her hips as everybody watched you walk off. “she’s hiding something.”

“what are you talking about?” dennis wondered, the two sharing eye contact. “i can only imagine how stressful everything is for her. you even know that dr. robby gives her some hard times.”

cassie stared off looking at you, her thoughts rummaging with how focused you looked, the smile you granted every patient, and your soft laugh that blossomed throughout the level with the sweetness of it.

dana realized how cassie was practically frozen, and she nudged at her. “wake up, woman. you have a patient in south 17,” she told her, and cassie nodded, forcing herself out of the daze. “you’ve been distracted, lately.”

“just… stuff with chad. you think he would give me a break after the ankle monitor,” cassie shared, and picked back up the tablet. “anyways, i’ll see you once our shift is over.”

for the remaining five hours of your shift, you and cassie walked past each other, giving a nod to one another, or a simple hello.

you knew you were holding onto nothing, a simple work crush that was childish of you to even have — and the age gap made it more difficult.

you were at your locker, making sure you had everything in your tote bag as you sighed, exhaustion washing over you, your eyes heavy. it was already about to be 10:15pm, and you could pass out at anytime.

“hey,” you heard next to you, your head turning to the direction of the voice, and were met with cassie. “i was wondering if i could walk you to your car?”

you smiled. “are you sure?”

“of course! besides, you don’t really park that far from mine,” cassie stated, and you nodded, closing up your locker. “any crazy patients today?”

“i had a kid come in because he put a lot of tissue paper up his nostrils,” you shared, the two of you laughing as you began to walk to the car parking lot. “i also really don’t know why a kid would do that.”

“trust me, you’re going to get plenty more patients that will have you baffled,” cassie reassured, playful nudging your arm with her elbow. “so tell me — why do you never go out with your friends?”

“i… i just don’t really have the time,” you said, playing with your car keys. “and it’s not a bad thing if i want nights to myself.”

“i just don’t want to see you get consumed by this job,” she worried, and you looked at her for a moment. “i also do feel bad that we haven’t said much to each other since you’ve started your second residency.”

“it’s okay, dr. mckay,” you told her, giving her a small smile. “don’t worry about it please.”

you and her had gotten to your car, bodies facing one another. “outside of work, you can call me cassie. drive home safely, okay?” she told you, and you nodded, but were suddenly taken aback when she gave you a hug. “see you tomorrow.”

she separated herself from the hug and smiled before walking to her own car as you carefully watched her, mulling over the hug that just occurred.

you snapped out of it when you realized what time it was, hopping into your car, and throwing your bag into the passenger side.

cassie sat in her car, making sure you got out of the parking lot safely, and sighed heavily.

cassie couldn’t sleep or calm down, her brain active and unrested, even after the day she had dealt with. it was midnight, and she realized she would be exhausted in the early morning.

she didn’t know how exactly she found herself walking around town, a cigarette in her mouth as she hoped she could drain energy out of her from being out this late.

she would have harrison in a few days, also tackling court issues with her ex husband, and work was scratching at her back constantly — she just needed a breather, somewhere her body could feel calm, and gave her privacy away from the world.

that’s when she found herself out of a strip club, not too many people inside, yet was well occupied for a wednesday night.

it was a stupid idea — she respected women, loved them, and didn’t know if it would be strange for her to go into a place of such.

cassie shook her head as she hesitantly walked up to the security outside, grabbing out her wallet to show her identification card.

“it’s awfully late for someone like you,” the man said, looking at her card.

“need a break, i guess? i don’t even know what i’m doing here,” she admitted, hands in the pocket of her wool coat. “haven’t been to a thing like this in a while.”

“you’ve come to the right place then,” he said, handing her back her card, and she put it back in her wallet. “enjoy, ma’am.”

she walked inside, the music luckily not to be loud enough, and her eyes immediately caught the attention of the multiple women on the poles.

she looked like a normal customer in her black shirt, straight-legged jeans, and her long coat over her as she took off the scarf around her neck, letting it drape over her forearm.

cassie looked around for somewhere to sit, finding a chair a few feet away from the main floor, taking off her coat and putting it on the furniture. she sat down, man spreading as she intensely watched each woman dance, possessing the movements of desire to entertain every man and woman in the building.

this was calm enough for her, away from people she didn’t know, a place nobody would ever consider for her to be in.

cassie grabbed another cigarette from her pack, lighting it up, and continued to analyze the dancers, sighing to herself in thought.

each woman danced to their own personal set of a song, in different pieces and material of lingerie, and she hummed, noticing how men went up to them to put sets of twenties or hundreds in the bands of the dancer’s underwear.

what was she doing in a place like this? she felt ridiculous, but she could rest and breathe for a moment, which was something she exactly needed.

soon after, she burned out her cigarette into the ashtray that was on a small table next to the chair.

time smoothly passed by, and when cassie looked at her phone, it told her how it was nearly two in the morning — she considered just calling out of work.

she got up from her chair, throwing back on her coat and scarf until a new song played for another dancer.

she knew the music, the artist, a familiar part of it playing a memory in her head. she stood there, watching the next performer making her way to middle front of the stage, a sync of men cheering and clapping.

a personal favorite, it seemed.

she knew the song from somewhere, someplace — someone played it for her once, but her brain couldn’t put a precise time of when or who.

cassie’s eyes dragged along the body of the woman from to the black red bottoms heels, to the tight and tiny dark cherry red bikini set, all the way up to the face.

glitter on and around the eyes, lips glazed with a shiny gloss, and makeup done — but she could recognize that face, the face she saw everyday, that she would think about in the morning and the night.

it was you.

she knew the song because of you. at the near end of your first year residency, cassie asked you if you’d like to have lunch with her, and you happily agreed to it as she wanted to know about you, anything you were willing to tell her.

you couldn’t think of what to say, and she asked you simple questions like, “what’s a show you like that you’d recommend,” or, “what music do you listen to?”

she recalled you telling her about some artist that you’d listen to for years, and one of your favorite songs by her was ‘burning desire,’ which played in the speakers, and your body moved along to.

your hands on the pole, your body pressing up against it, showing off every inch of bare skin to the people in the room like you didn’t mind, that it was fun for you.

you were beautifully seductive, people hurrying to get to the edge of the stage, money coming to you as if you’d had hypnotized them.

cassie inched herself a little closer to you, eyes fixated on your body, your breasts, your plump ass, how you smiled at people with a charm. this isn’t how she was supposed to see your heavenly body for the first time.

she didn’t like how every man wanted to take you as theirs, a nauseating jealousy surging through her.

you had seemed like a natural to be a performer of such, teasing everyone by your fingers hooking at the thin band of your underwear, tugging it down to think you’d expose yourself.

cassie careened closer, to the point she could be in your possible view. she listened as every man called you sweetheart or baby, snagging more cash out of their wallets.

your hands switched from your underwear to the bikini tie, slowly unraveling it, and cassie was prepared to grab you and throw her coat over you.

“how’d you like two hundred?” cassie asked, and your head snapped to her voice, a grin on her lips. “i’ll make it three hundred for a private dance.”

you nearly tumbled off the stage, your heart racing as you exchanged eye contact with her, and you thought your life would be ruined.

the song concluded, and you rushed off into the back, thinking you were about to throw up.

cassie stayed behind, waiting for you to come out of the private dancing section which you did, hurrying up towards her.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, wearing a long fur coat to protect your nude body. “it’s so late, and i can’t believe you’re here.”

“what are you doing as a stripper?” cassie questioned. “is this why you don’t go out after work?”

you looked around a bit before you grabbed her hand, dragging her to a private room to keep her alone. you closed the door, facing her again. “you don’t understand,” you began, shaking your head. “and you can’t tell anyone or this will ruin my life.”

cassie sat down in the velvet chair, staring up at you. “who would i tell?” she wondered. “why are you doing this? you’re only twenty four, and you could do anything else.”

“by my third year of university, my parents decided to cut me off,” you explained, voice shaky. “my financial aid only covered so much but not enough, especially when i started the medicine program.”

“there’s scholarships,” cassie stated.

“i tried, but i wasn’t granted any,” you reiterated, and sniffled. “i had a friend who did this, and she said she would make a few thousands in a week. i was able to put myself through the program, but still have debt i need to pay off in the meantime.”

“but you make good money for being a resident,” cassie insisted, and you scoffed. “you don’t need to do this anymore.”

“i give money to my grandparents,” you confessed, crossing your arms over your chest. “my grandpa’s hospital bills are a lot, and my grandma can barely cover them.”

cassie thought to herself as she looked away for a moment, her fingers tapping along her thighs while you looked at her, hoping she’d forget about this night.

“get your stuff, we’re leaving,” cassie said, getting up from the chair. “you’re coming with me.”

“what? i’m not—”

“get your fucking things, and meet me out in the front,” she demanded, and you went silent, only nodding. “you don’t have a say so, now do you?”

you let her walk away, standing in the room for a moment while you were on the brink of crying, inhaling sharply and tried to keep your composure.

you hurried to the dressing rooms, changing out of your set, and put on your sweatpants and shirt, tossing the bikini into your pink duffle bag. you snugged on your slipper boots, and grabbed your coat again, wiping your tears away.

“hey, are you okay?” your friend ashley asked, the next performer to go up. “i saw you with that woman.”

“she’s… she’s actually my coworker at the hospital,” you said, and ashley’s jaw nearly dropped. “i didn’t know she would even come to a place like this.”

“well you always tell us how you like her,” she teased, and you cracked a smile. “maybe she cares about you, and tonight was a good sign.”

“i guess,” you mumbled, and she gave you a quick hug, rubbing your back. “i gotta go. i’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“good luck,” she said, letting go from the hug as you walked off to outside, saying your farewells to your friends and the bouncers inside.

the second you were outside, cassie stood there, patiently waiting for you as she looked like she was about ready to scold you. “come on, it’s late,” she said, gesturing her head for you to beckon to her.

you stayed behind only a couple inches when walking with her, your head lowered and you watched your feet move you forward, the silence between you and cassie making you nausea.

“i’m not going to tell anyone,” cassie broke the silence, your head snapping up. “but i won’t let you do this anymore.”

“that’s not your choice,” you told her, seeing how she looked over at you for just a second. “i was just going to keep doing this for a little bit longer.”

“how much longer? until you finished your entire residency?” she asked, and when you didn’t answer, she stopped her movement to turn around, and sternly looked at you. “are you fucking serious?”

“i almost have enough saved, okay? it’ll be over with soon,” you reassured, and she scoffed, in utter disbelief. “it’s not like you understand.”

“oh, i understand,” she said, taking a step closer to you. “and i’ll make you regret this decision.”

your body went numb, with cassie holding your hand to drag you, it being the only way you could move your legs. nothing else was exchanged between the two of you, and you were too nervous to speak up or to further explain yourself, but she had to know you only saw this as a second revenue source.

you tried to make sense of what she told you about making you “regret” your decision — any decision, of that kind.

you had reached her apartment complex, the front gate creaking open as she continued to drag you inside, being sure your hand would bruise from how hard she squeezed it.

“you don’t have harrison?” you asked, trying to make any conversation. “ i would assume since custody stuff has gotten better between you and chad.”

“think again,” cassie mumbled, dropping your hand as she got her house keys from her coat pocket, unlocking the front door, and swung it open. “get inside.”

you carefully walked inside, and stood awkwardly by the coat rack, cassie trailing carefully behind you and slammed the door close.

“can i put my bag somewhere, please?” you wondered, and she put her bag by the door, dropping her keys on it. she grabbed your duffel bag, gesturing her head for you to follow her, and you could feel your heart in your throat.

she turned on the small lamp that sat on the beside table, being the only singular light to illuminate the bedroom, and she put your bag on the floor by the bed.

“come here,” is all she said as she put herself on the edge of the mattress, hands on her knees as she looked at you, her eyes glistening with a thin line between covetous and infuriated.

you took a few close steps towards her, and she grew further exasperated, rolling her eyes. “what do you want me to do?” you squeamishly asked, your palms sweating, and hesitated to even try to look away.

“get on your knees, right here,” she coaxed, her voice suddenly soft and warm.

“what?” you panicked.

“on your knees, in between my legs”, her voice got stricter, tipping on the point of shouting. “you should really listen to me right now — your whole life is in my hands.”

you stood between her, your knees slowly pulling themselves to the wooden bedroom floor as your eyes dared to not meet hers.

“you’re so proud and confident in front of gross men,” cassie began, her fingers curling into the top of your hair and forcibly yanked your head up to look at her, “but can’t bother to stare me in the eye. that’s a bit disrespectful, don’t you think?”

“i—i don’t know,” you stammered, a teary gloss coating your eyes. “i’ll do anything you want.”

“i know you will,” she smiled, her hand coming down to pat your cheek, her thumb gently caressing it.

you whimpered, a warm need grew in your stomach, cascading around your body. you were desperate, and you swore you were dreaming about what was happening because you’ve fantasized about this, about cassie taking control over you and ruining you to her satisfaction.

you nuzzled your cheek against her thigh, your eyes pleading for her to do something — anything — to you.

she stroked the top of your head, a faux sweet look sewing itself onto her face while a depraved smile curled up on her lips. “take off everything,” she said, and you hurried up onto your feet, throwing off your shoes, unraveling your clothes off your body.

cassie joined you, taking off her own shoes with her coat and scarf, sat back on her hands as she closely watched how your body trembled, whether it was because of excitement or fear — either way, she loved it.

you stood nude in front of her, arms crossed around your body to protect yourself. the pittsburgh winter must’ve slipped through the cracks of her apartment as it stirred itself in the room to make the goosebumps prickle on your skin, and cassie stood up, inching herself closer to you.

“don’t do that,” she whispered, tugging your arms away, and her eyes fixated on your body, breathing heavily, “you’re so beautiful. nobody deserves to see this but me.”

air got caught in your throat, your heartbeat hitting against your chest, being sure she could hear it. “only for you, cassie,” the words slipped out of your mouth, not able to catch them on time, but you didn’t regret it. “only for you — all for you.”

“you’re going to have to prove that to me,” she said, almost taunting and tempting you, willing to test how far you’ll go. “come sit right here, baby.”

cassie patted her lap as she sat back down, and you straddled it, your legs on the side of hers. her fingers came to your hair, pushing messy strands of it behind your ears before her fingertips drew themselves over your lips, switching to her thumb that pressed up against them.

“open wide for me,” she whispered, and your mouth pulled itself open in a second, her thumb making its way into it. “suck on it, i need know if you’ll even be able to take my cock.”

your lips wrapped around her thumb, gently sucking on it as she moaned to the sight, eyes fixed on you being so obedient for her. “there’s my girl, oh you’re so fucking good,” she praised, your doe eyes flickering up into hers, a look of innocence beading into them.

you sunk further into her lap, about to grind onto it before she hastily noticed, pulling her thumb out of your mouth. “please, please,” you whined, eyebrows drawing together in desperation.

“such good manners,” she said, her hand rubbing your inner things, teasing closer to your cunt. “you think you deserve it, sweet girl? you’ve kind of disappointed me tonight.”

“didn’t mean to,” you pouted, pressing your hips closer to her, aching for her to touch you. “i didn’t know you wanted me, needed me.”

“oh baby,” cassie swiftly brought her hand up, gently grasping your jaw to force eye contact. “i’ve needed you and this since the first time i laid eyes on you. following me around, coming to me for anything — you’ve been my girl the second you came to me.”

“do you mean that?” you wondered.

“have i ever lied to you?” she asked, and you shook your head. “never would do anything to make you distrust me, you got that?”

“i understand, i do,” you assured, leaning your head in just a bit. “can you kiss me, please?”

“just because you asked so nicely,” she said, her lips meeting yours as her arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you in closer to her. your body drowned in her touch, your hips grinding against her lap, earning a breathy chuckle elicit from her. “so fucking desperate.”

you mindlessly nodded, tongues slipping into each other’s mouth as the kiss turned into a wet mess. cassie’s hand snaked down to your inner thigh, trailing itself to your cunt, and brushed against it.

“mhm, please,” you whined, and she placed a few more kisses to your lips before pulling back, tilting her head to the side with a sly grin on her face. “touch me, please.”

“i am touching you, baby,” she said, and you whined in protest, trying to grind your cunt against her hand. “did i say you can do that?”

“i’ll do anything,” you whispered, resting your head on her shoulder as you looked at her.

cassie caved, two of her fingers slipping into your tight cunt, a surprised gasp escaping your mouth as she slowly pumped them in a curl. her thumb rubbed your bud, humming to herself and wrapped her free arm around your waist to keep you close.

“you hear that, sweetheart?” she asked, referring to your sopping wet noises that got louder with each pump. “you’ve just been dying for this. tell me how much you’ve needed this.”

“s’much, cassie. been dreaming about you and this ever since,” your words are interrupted by a moan, “s—since i met you. jus’ needed you to ruin me.”

“yeah, baby?” she teased, her fingers thrusting into you harder, rougher, trying to break open your cunt. “i need to stretch you out, make sure you’re gonna be able to take my cock.”

you hummed, nodding and batted your eyelashes while looking up at her, “i’ll take it s’good, cass. promise i will,” you rambled, your walls tightening around her fingers as she moaned to the feeling of it.

cassie’s arm went from being around your waist, to her hand forcing your head up and roughly grabbing your jaw to look at her. her hands pressed harsh against the bone, not able to break out of her hold as she focused on how your mouth fell open with every whine and whimper going from the depths of your chest, to past your pretty plump lips.

“daddy,” you whined in a hush, it slipping out of you without a thought, without even realizing it. cassie’s surprised eyes is what made you reel in what you had said, growing shy and apologetic.

“what’d you say?” cassie asked, trying to pull it out of you again, almost daring you to say it once more. “come on, speak up.”

“i—i didn’t say anything,” you lied, and she paused, humming before her hand came to your throat, her fingers perfectly curling around it.

“you get one more chance,” she threatened, an innocent look morphing onto your face as you shook your head.

in a sudden rush, cassie’s free hand came to the back of your head, fingers knotting in your hair before she threw you face and body first into her mattress, earning a harsh huff out of you.

you laid there, trying to peak at her as she stripped out of her clothing, making a pile on the ground. she rummaged through her nightstand drawers, grabbing something in such a hast, you couldn’t make out what it was.

the bed dipped behind you, hearing cassie curse at herself for a moment until her hands were suddenly on your hips, drawing you backwards and made sure your ass was propped up.

“breathe,” is all cassie said, your cunt suddenly being stretched and pushed open with her strap, and your fingers gripped onto the comforter beneath you, groaning into the mattress.

she stayed still in you for a minute or two, letting your hole adjust to the size and length of her, your body shuttering and trembling.

“do you want me to treat you like a filthy girl?” she asked as she had leaned and hovered over you, her bare chest brushing against your nude back. you nodded, face flat on its side and she amusingly smiled.

her hand pressed to the side of your head, pushing it further into the mattress as she rammed her cock into you, brutalizing your cunt and forcing it to break open to her size. you cried out with traces of whimpers and moan that blended into one another, and cassie groaned in your ear, her eyes fixated on the way her cock pounded into you.

“wanna tell me what you said a second again?” cassie wondered, and you refused to answer, only for her go harder and rougher, spitting on your face. “don’t be stupid girl.”

the spit caught off guard, but you only grinned in pleasure as she took immediate notice to it, her hand pressing deeper onto your head and spat again.

“daddy,” you cried out, your cunt being so full of her, almost sure she was in your guts. “please, you’re fucking me s’good.”

“yeah, baby? keep talkin’ to daddy,” she pried, and you whimpered, immensely weak and pathetic under her strength.

“wanted this so much, can feel you in my stomach,” you rambled, and she smiled, the sound of your and hers skin clapping together bouncing off the walls of her bedroom. “i’ll do anything for your cock.”

“i know you will, sweetheart. i know,” she cooed, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek before she pulled back, removing her hand, and her hands focused on your hips, feeling how your body twitched and squirmed.

“feel like i’m gonna cum,” you whined, your back arching as warmth accumulated itself in your stomach, burning high and slowly reaching to in between your legs. “please, i want to cum.”

“cum for me, baby. make me proud,” cassie praised and you nodded, the warmth turning in a blissful heat that surged through your body. “you can do it, c’mon.”

an euphoric high hit you all at once, crying out for cassie as she helped you ride out your high and your body trembled beneath her hands, her fingers digging into your skin.

“there’s my girl,” she breathed, your juices and cum perfectly coating her cock, being in a trance by just looking at it. “i knew you could do it, just to make me happy.”

your lungs gathered oxygen, breathily heavily and panted, your body going limp. you didn’t say much, trying to reel yourself back into reality, and cassie could only look at you with pure amusement and smug smile on her lips.

“i don’t think you’ve had enough yet,” she insisted, maneuvering herself to sit up by her headboard, calling your name. “come here baby, you need to ride me.”

you only nodded, crawling up to her, and sat up on your knees in between her legs, a pout quivering on your lips.

“you can do it, sweetheart. just one more time, okay?” she said, and you hummed, straddling her lap, slowly sinking down on her cock. you gasped, eyebrows drawing together as you made eye contact with her while you let her fill you up. “juussttt like that, make yourself feel good on my cock, baby.”

she placed her hands on your hips, looking at you as you gradually built up your pace, your hands on her chest, your hips moving in a smooth yet desperate rhythm. your back was perfectly arched as you began to bounce and ride her, cassie in sweet awe of how your cunt begged for more of her.

wanton noises left you, throwing your head back, and kept your hands on her, a pure firestorm of lust kissing your skin, touching your cunt.

“jus’ keep bouncing on me, use me how you’d like,” she praised, her eyes glued to your bouncy tits, her mouth salivating to suck on them. her hands caressed up and down the sides of your body, wanting to leave scattered bruises across your delicate skin, to mark and bite you.

your fingernails scraped against her chest, looking back down at her as you pounded her cock into you with a uncontrollable hunger for more desire, for more of her to stretch you apart and open.

cassie propped herself up a bit, her mouth hung open to suck onto your sensitive nipples, contributing more pleasure to your needs, and you hummed, nodding to the feeling of it.

her groans sewed into your soft moans, the collision of your ass slapping against her thighs finding their own way into the mix of it as it continued to bounce of the walls of her apartment, being sure a neighbor was about to file a noise complaint.

“fuckin’ made for me,” cassie muttered, her teeth bitting into the side of your breasts, earning a harsh whimper. “you show yourself off to anyone else like that again, i’ll break you.”

you mindlessly nodded as your fingers combed and grasped onto cassie’s hair, letting her put more bites of blissful pleasure into your soft skin.

your body was warm against her mouth, a crying need to bite harder into you until blood seeps out from her teeth marks, and she could put kisses to it, only to hurt you again, and get another sick taste of you.

“mhm, daddy, daddy,” you babbled, the redhead grinning as she looked up at you, her hands giving a harsh, chaste squeeze to your ass. “feel like ‘m gonna fucking cum.”

“only get to cum if you promise me something, baby,” cassie insisted, and you whimpered. “promise me you’re going to stop this dancing.”

you nodded, her words sounding like echoes while your high hastily and gradually peaked itself into your abdomen, your entire body trembling with it.

“i—i promise, promise,” you mumbled, your eyes locking into hers, and she smiled wide. “only for you, cass. please let me cum.”

“cum over my cock,” she said, and your high didn’t wait another second before it rolled out of you, straight into your cunt as you squirmed and your body fell on her, your teeth sinking into her shoulder. you bit down heavily, cassie moaning to the feeling of it, and you whimpered, all of your high leaking out and around her cock.

you and her stayed still in your positions for a few minutes, collecting yourselves and gathering lungfuls of oxygens into your bodies.

cassie sat herself up perfectly against her bed’s headboard, making sure to pick you up with her as your body rested softly against hers.

“will you forget about tonight?” you abruptly asked, and cassie sat quiet for a few seconds.

“look at me,” she said, forcing you to sit up on her lap, and to face her, with her hand grasping your jaw to force eye contact. “i’m not forgetting about this, any of this. but you made me a promise, and i expect you to stick to it. understood?”

“it’s hard for me, financially,” you told her, and she sighed. “i still have insurances, an apartment to pay off—”

“you’ll live with me,” cassie interrupted, pulling out a cigarette pack from the drawer of her nightstand, and your eyes widened. “i’m serious. if that’s what it’ll take, then just move in.”

“don’t fuck around,” you said, and she put the stick in between her lips, handing you the lighters. “cassie.”

“baby,” she lulled back, and you shook your head, lighting up her cigarette. she took in a sharp inhale, before blowing out the smoke away from your face. “you’re lucky it was me who caught you.”

“i’m happy it was. i’ve been waiting for something like this for a while,” you admitted, and cassie smirked, humming in pride to herself as she inhaled another smoke. “don’t get cocky.”

she brought you back down against her body, pulling a blanket over the two of you as she continued to smoke, and you slowly began to drift off into sleep.

“you’re my girl. always will be,” cassie whispered, and you only hummed before falling asleep on her body.

[groovyangelkisses]

y’all know i’m a perv but right now i’m craving some rom-com esque jack x reader. like i want yearning stares & an awkward/clumsy reader who makes a fool of herself in front of jack but he’s just soooo completely endeared & enamored that he doesn’t even notice </3

[groovyangelkisses]

like ellis going up to jack, who’s leaning on the annex gazing at you, and telling him “your little nurse just ate shit in trauma 2… like face down on the floor” and jack knows you’re okay because he sees your lil ponytail bouncing through the halls so he just dreamily sighs “yeah?”

[aquameowrine]

butch cassie x femme reader <3

﹕ ꒰ა pretty girl — cassie mckay .ᐟ ֹ ₊

"You like that one?" Cassie asked a few days ago, sat on the seat of your dressing room. She looked up at you with those wanting eyes, letting them wander over the lingerie tracing every curve of your body. Soft pink and lacy, your favorite.

"It's pretty," you nodded, still looking at yourself in the mirror in awe, "pretty expensive." The joke made her huff out a laugh before she stood up and rested a hand on your waist as she came up behind you."

"Nothing's more expensive than that smile of yours, baby," she smiled herself, "c'mon, let's go pay for it."

Now, after her 14 hour shift, you couldn't think of anything better than treating her to you by showering and making sure you both felt and looked good, spraying that perfume she always compliments, and slipping on the lacy fabric whose pink complimented your skin perfectly. You felt like an angel laid out on the bed for her with a candle lit across the room.

When she got home and called out your name, only to be met with silence, your heart raced despite yourself. Footsteps approached and the door creaked open before Cassie's head peaked in. Her expression was raw and genuine, her lips parting and eyebrows raising in unadulterated awe.

"Oh, my girl," she shakily sighs, running a hand through her dark, messy hair, "my pretty, pretty girl. All this for me?"

Stepping into the room and over to the bed, her hands find your plush thighs as she settles between them eagerly. Thumbing over the thin, lacy fabric, she draws her lower lip between her teeth.

"All for you," you nod in agreement, letting her spread your thighs with ease, "you had such a long shift. I wanted to make you feel better, and I haven't worn this for you yet, so..."

"I know, baby, I'm so sorry work ran late." She reaches up to cup your cheek, kissing your lips lovingly, "I almost don't wanna take this off. You're like a work of art, you know that?" Her kisses trail down your neck before landing on your chest above the fabric. "Might just take you like this."

Whining at the idea, she lifts her head to look up at you with that soft, knowing grin. The cold of her chain meets your skin from where it dangles around her neck, sending a shiver up your spine. Nodding back, she hums.

"I'll take care of you, honey. You did your part, I'll do mine." The promise is followed by her sitting up and reaching for the strap in the drawer next to your bed. Securing the harness around her hips, she wets her lips and ties her hair back up with the hair tie around her wrist. Then, in the final part of her routine, she wets it with the lubricant and strokes over the strap in preparation, distributing the slickness amongst herself.

"You ready for me?" She asks, looking down at you with a teasing lilt in her voice. With a heavy gaze, she creeps closer and nudges your entrance with the tip of her strap.

Head rolling back against the pillow, you nod back and push your hips up to meet hers as much as you can. Laughing at your eagerness, she continues to push in to the hilt. Bottoming out, she reaches down to press her thumb against your clit and circle incessantly. With every thrust she gives and moan it elicits from you, she lets out her own soft breaths and grunts. All you can find in you to focus on is her bangs sticking to her forehead and her baggy shirt hanging over her chest.

Tugging at the hem, Cassie chuckles again and murmurs, "words, baby. Tell me what you want or I can't give it to you."

Nudging at your g-spot with every thrust, you struggle to whine out, "shirt—Off, please. Cas, please."

Sitting up, she gives in and slips off her dark, baggy shirt to reveal soft, pale skin and her chest covered by her black sports bra. When you immediately reach up to feel at the newly exposed skin, she lets the shirt fall as she picks up her pace back to what it was before. Hard, fast, and desperate.

"Shh, shh, shh..." She shushes you gently, her dominance soft yet effective, "I've got you. I'm nowhere near done with you, alright? Can't have you getting too loud before we even start."

Taking the cold metal of her silver chain between your teeth to ground yourself and silence your wanton moans, Cassie groans at the sight and thumbs at your clit faster like she herself was getting close and needed to take you down with her.

"You sure know how to keep me young, don't you?" She laughs, taking your wrists in her grasp and securing them around either side of your head, "how am I ever gonna keep up?"

a/n — i wholeheartedly believe in soft dom butch cassie supremacy... thank u for the req! first time writing her at all lol, i hope it's okay :) will not be the last tho. that's mamaaaa.

[kittyorg]

thinking abt being pope cody's pretty lil gf that he's always buying things for... if you so much as glance at something longingly he's dropping cash into your purse, telling you that you have enough to get it <33 he definitely has your phone cloned on his and all of your passwords, he's constantly checking your bookmarks so anything you save "to buy when i get my next paycheck, andy" he's buying and leaving in the passenger seat of your car if he's too busy to give it to you in person ):

pope cody whose brothers are constantly calling him pussy-whipped. when baz is in a particular mood he's telling pope that he's nothing more than a wallet for you, there's no way you love him. and for once baz's words don't cut the way they used to because you prove you love him in so many ways. you remember the way he likes things organised, remember how he likes things cleaned and what supplies he uses to do so, you nurse his wounds without pestering him to talk before he's ready. sometimes when he opens his wallet he has to snap it shut as quickly as possible 'cause you sneak lil polaroid nudes n lewds in there for him <33

[dreamckay]

i see a real delicious fic & all of a sudden i'm Him

[groovyangelkisses]

this is the most handsome pope gif ugh <3

[mariasont]

TENDER IS THE CONCRETE ── .✦ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you scrape your knees by the pool, pope attempts to fix it

pairings: pope cody x bunny reader

warnings: fem!reader, reader wearing a dress, minor injury, scraped knees, blood, wound clearning, hurt/comfort, protective pope cody, possessive thoughts, pope calls read kid, pope calls reader doll, reader has freckles bc i wanted to be self indulgent!!!!, grumpy caretaker pope

wc: 2k

Pope finds you sitting on the low concrete step out back with your legs folded to one side. Delicate and stunned-looking in the harsh afternoon lift. A figurine dropped by accident and left there because nobody wanted to be the first to check for cracks.

You haven’t been drinking, he knows that much. You don’t really drink to begin with. Not in excess, anyway.

He scans you to find the problem. Head. Fine. Chest. More than fine. Stomach. Normal.

Knees.

Your knees are scraped raw.

The marks are not serious, technically. But serious enough that the skin has split open into two wet little blooms, blood bright against the grit, dust clinging where it shouldn’t. It runs down your shins in thin, crooked tributaries, and he hates it. 

Hates the sight so sharply it feels like a physical punch. Hates that the world got its hands on you for five seconds and already made a mess of what it shouldn’t have touched. Someone like you who is so pure and untouched.

Pope stops where he is.

His hand closes at his side. Opens again. That is his first correction. The second is his face, which he makes blank, or tries to, because you’re already looking up at him, head snapping back too hard, and his mind supplies the sound of it hitting the door before it happens. 

It doesn’t happen. Still, his jaw tightens. Careless with yourself, he thinks. 

You swipe at your face with the heel of your hand, and say, “I’m fine.”

No, you’re not, he wants to say. Who the fuck taught you to say that so fast?

Instead he takes a few careful steps toward you, keeping his face still, keeping everything locked down, even as the agitation climbs up the back of his neck.

If he gets close enough, he’ll be able to see it clearly. Where the damage starts. Who he’s supposed to blame.

“What happened, kid?”

You sniff once and straighten your back. Brave little thing. Ridiculous little thing. “Nothing.”

Pope doesn’t respond. His eyes stay on you, molten enough to become a thing in the yard, another source of heat in the sun, and he can feel himself doing it only after your fingers move to your mouth. One neat pink nail presses into the swell of your lip, picks at it, worries the softness there.

He wants to tell you to stop. Wants to take your hand away from your mouth. Wants too many things, which is usually the first sign that he should do nothing at all. So he waits for you to fold.

He knows the first answer was bullshit. Flimsy as tissue paper and he lets it tear on its own.

“I tripped,” you admit finally.

“Where?” he asks.

Your lashes are wet when you blink up at him, clumped together in little dark points, and your mouth does that small uncertain thing, twitching at one corner like you’re embarrassed to explain yourself.

“By the pool,” you say. “There was, like, a crack. Or something.”

He knows the crack. He can see it without looking, some warped seam in the concrete by the shallow end, something everyone steps over, steps around, ignores because it’s just part of the house being what it is. Broken things everywhere. Broken people too. 

But you didn’t know to look for it. You move through the Cody house like bad things are theoretical, like the ground itself wouldn’t dare rise up and bite you. It did anyway. 

Pope lets out a slow breath through his nose and drops into a crouch in front of you. 

Bad idea, probably. Everything is worse down here. It’s inflamed, scratches packed with dirt, blood drying in jagged lines.

You don’t like that part. The mess. He can tell by way your hands twitch helplessly in your lap, like you want to wipe it away, clean it up, make yourself presentable again, but the pain is winning. 

Your dress, meanwhile, is perfect. Some pink little sundress cut high over your thighs. No wrinkles or stray staining.

From where he is, he could see up it if he tried. He doesn’t. He keeps his eyes where they belong, on the blood, on the damage, on the part of you he can pretend is the only thing he wants to touch. For now. 

You try to pull your leg back the second he reaches for your ankle, some quick little prey-animal flinch that might’ve worked on someone less ready for it.

Pope catches you easily. His hand wraps firm before you can get very far. Not hard enough to hurt, not gentle enough to suggest he’s asking.

“Quit that.”

“It stings,” you protest.

“Yeah,” he says flatly. “That tends to happen when you eat shit.”

Your bottom lip wobbles. You gather it back up so quickly it almost disappears, smoothing the expression off your face like a ripple flattening on water, and Christ, you’re pretty when you cry.

It’s a rotten thought. He knows that. He knows that, and still his body reacts before morality can catch up, because his body is old violence and bad wiring and appetite with a pulse. 

He drags his thumb down the line of your calf, feather-light, careful to avoid the scrape itself, as if gentleness in one place could cancel out the ugliness in another, as if he could make himself clean by touching you like you’re made of glass. 

“You cryin’?” Rhetorical. More of an indictment.

“No.”

“You are.”

“‘M not.” A tear slips free and runs down your cheek as you say it.

Pope watches the trajectory, the thin shine over warm skin. He wants to lean in and taste it. Salt. Flesh. Proof. He kills the urge under the toe of his boot.

You stare past him, surely furious with yourself for the anatomical betrayal.

He lets out a short, humorless breath that almost passes for a laugh and shakes his head. “Tough girl, huh?”

You nod right away, stubborn as hell. “Mhm.” 

Another tear comes down. That settles it. Pope looks at it, then at you. Tough girl. Sure. Tough like a rabbit holding still under a hawk shadow. 

“C’mere,” he says.

“Why?”

“So I can clean it.”

Your eyes widen immediately, suspicious now, all that fragile toughness collapsing into practical fear.  “Is it gonna hurt?”

“It’ll hurt more if I don’t.”

He’s not actually sure that’s true, but he doesn’t know how else to sell this to you. He just knows he doesn’t want you leaving gravel in there and calling it day.

This patio has probably seen every kind of gross substance known to man. Beer, mud, oil, spit, ash, drugs, blood. A dozen things he doesn’t want in your skin. Enough random bacteria to make him think infection before anything else. Enough that he can already picture your knees tomorrow, swollen and pink and you still insisting it’s nothing.

It seems convincing enough for you because you let him pull you up, though you hiss when your knees straighten.

Stiff little steps. Swallowed noises. A terrible attempt at limping in a way he won’t notice, as if Pope has ever missed anything in his life, as if he might tease you for it. 

He probably will, a little, because sometimes teasing gets you moving better than sympathy does, but not much. 

Inside, he sets you on the bathroom counter and starts digging through the cabinet for peroxide and gauze. The bathroom is too small for both of you. It shows in the way he can clearly inhale the flowery perfume you have on. Sprayed at the base of your throat and insides of your wrists, most likely.

When he turns back, you’ve gone very still, hands braced on either side of your hips, shoulders pulled up nearly to your ears, eyes fixed on the brown bottle like it might lunge at you. 

“I don’t like that.”

“No one likes it.” 

You pull a face, and your foot kicks forward once, restless and nervous. Your heel brushes his side. Barely. An accident. Pope feels it through his shirt like a warning shot. You retract your foot immediately. 

“Well, I like it less than most people,” you mutter.

He steps in between your knees before you can fuss any more, the cap twisting loose between his fingers. 

“I think you’re being a little bit of a baby,” he says, then, before you can get offended, adds, “which is fine.” The cap clicks against the counter. “You can sit there and look at me like I’m about to torture you if that helps. But I’m still gonna clean it.” His eyes flick to your mouth, to the pout already threatening there. “You can do that too. Still not gettin’ out of it.”

You seem to consider pushing back one more time, then don’t. 

“...Kay,” you say, barely above a mumble. Giving in. Like you’ve made up your mind, like you’ve already accepted he knows what’s happening next better than you do and you’re fine with that. 

He isn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Hold still.”

The peroxide strikes the raw skin and you jolt under his hand, a soft whimper escaping before you can swallow it back, your eyes pinching shut like that might save you from the burning.

Pope gets a hand around your thigh before you can yank it your leg back, a quick learner when it comes to your habits.

“Easy,” he says, tipping the bottle back. “You’re alright.” Another careful pour, less this time. Another little flinch. “You’re doing good, doll. Almost done with the worst of it.”

Your lips push out further, eyes going a little softer and shinier. You shift toward him, knees parting just a little more around where he stands, one hand coming off the counter to catch at his side, then his shirt, then just staying there.

He wipes away the last of the pink fizz and dirt in slow passes. 

“There. See? Survived.” He reaches for the bandaids, peels one open with his teeth, and smooths it over the first scrape with the flare of his thumb. Then the second, just as careful. “Wasn’t so bad.”

“Easy for you to say.” Your hand stays bunched in his shirt, fingers curled into the cotton like you forgot you were holding on or decided not to care. 

Pope looks down at it for half a second too long, then back to the bandaid before it can become anything. The corner of his mouth pulls, barely. 

“Yeah,” he says. “You’re right. Sorry, kid.” He presses the left bandaid down where it’s already trying to peel at the edge.  “Next time watch where you’re going, yeah? Makes my life easier.”

Your nose wrinkles. It’s cute. Freckles dotted across the bridge, fanning outward in a constellation of sorts. “Sounds like victim blaming to me.”

“You can be a victim and careless with your well-being at the same time.”

You cock your head at him, considering this, “So… are you done now?”

“Mhm. Done.” His hands settle at your waist and lifts you back off the counter, steadying you once wobbling feet hit the floor. 

You look up at him then, and your mouth softens into a small, toothless smile. It’s already too much for him. Already better than the pinched-up expressions you’ve been wearing since he found you outside. 

He almost makes the mistake of pointing it out. Before he can, you rise to your tip toes, light hands still at his sides for balance, and press those pretty lips to his cheek, just off his mouth. 

When you pull away, your teeth find your lower lip and you look at him from under your lashes. “Thank you, Andrew.”

He wants, suddenly and stupidly, to tell you not to thank him for things like that, not for basic shit, not for cleaning blood off your knees like it’s some grand gesture. But then again maybe in your life it is. Maybe that’s the part that makes something protective rise in him. 

So all he says is, “Yeah,” low and rough, like the word cost him a little. He keeps a hand at your waist a second longer than necessary before he lets you go. Watches you walk away. 

Later, when you’re distracted somewhere inside the house, he goes back out and finds the crack by the pool.

He fixes it the next day. 

A/N - popping my pope cody fanfic cherry!!!!!! yipee

FIND MY MASTERLIST HERE!

[groovyangelkisses]

okay so you know the maison margiela kiss shirt trend? imagine reader giving Andrew a diy shirt that she just covered in her lipstick kiss marks. You best believe that he would wear that everyday if he could.

I’m a firm believer that on more than one occasion, he has met up with his brothers with your lipstick kiss marks on his cheeks

oh my god this is so friggin’ cute, yes!

working on ironing out the money before a job, and of course pope is literally just watching deran do it. naturally, as per usual, he’s unhappy with deran’s progress— muttering “ya creased it.” or “‘s not hot enough, bro, turn it up.” deran’s pushing his hair out of his eyes, lifting his head to bitch out his older brother when he spots it.

the prettiest pink, sticky pout stamped onto pope’s cheek. it’s glittery in the minimal light of the garage, and deran has to pull his lips in so he doesn’t laugh in andrew’s face… he knows how that’d end. “you got uh- somethin’,” deran tries, pointer finger making a hook motion at his cheek and nodding.

“what?” andrew spits, “what are you talking about?” he changes his stance, putting weight on his back foot with his arms crossed. his brows furrow further, confused and pouting in annoyance.

deran weighs his options: tell pope his girl left lipstick marks on his cheek and risk needing a ct scan, or just… let it be. “nope-no it’s… nothin. can you just, leave me the fuck alone so i can… finish, please?” he reasons, looking back down at his work, satisfied he bought himself another night without a black eye.

craig, on the other hand, is not so lucky. he strides in the room with his beer and chips, protective goggles atop of his head as he gawks at andrew. “oh shit, what stripper branded you pope?”

safe to say there was a lot of aggression when you walked into the er later that night; craig with a broken nose, deran with a shit-eating grin, and andrew with bleeding knuckles… and your revlon 619 “pearl” shade still untouched on his cheek <3

[ccandlehead]

Thinking thoughts about al hashimi with a hyper feminine reader who’s in a more feminine form of medical work like a Botox injector or something and how they click together 😍

✉️ ── baran x hyperfem!reader

before i give you my two cents on this i suggest checking out this ongoing series by @/maximoffwitch that has a similar premise with a plastic surgeon reader !!

i think baran would be so enchanted by you right off the bat because of how charismatic and confident you are when you come in for an emergency consult. the kindness and gentleness with which you treat the patient and the ease with which you do whats needed of you.

think she’d make some small talk with you, exchange contacts just in case she needs your help again since she was impressed with the quality of your work. she eventually just asks you to get a drink with her when you’re both free.

once she starts seeing you out of your scrubs more often, she so admires the level of care you put into curating your look, head to toe. your milkmaid or henley tops, frilly skirts or blue jeans, long socks and mary janes..

she just thinks you’re such a doll, and it’ll slip out sometimes when she’s talking to you,“thanks for the help in there, azize delam.” or “good to see you again, doll.”

maybe hyperfem!reader with thin-lined dainty tattoos, baran’d trace her thumb along the one on your wrist, curious why you got it. she’ll ask if you have more, feel her cheeks heating up when you stand and slightly pull down your pants to reveal a pretty floral design on your hip..

baran always asking dana if you came in whenever she smells the sweet vanilla scent thats so uniquely you drifting through the air <33

also ! her buying you clothes !! all she wants is to see you in the stuff she gets you. she loves the way your aesthetics contrast. she buys you matching robes, all laces and frills, red for her and pink for you.. just baran who spoils her sweet girl so much ^_^

[urfavoritewritersfavoritewriter]

brendon park x reader texts again 😛😛😛 (i seriously need a hobby)

[polkedot]

੭꣒ ˖ ❛ bf!langdon who takes the phrase “kiss and makeup” a little too seriously.

c.ws :: mdni , smut , slight degradation , missionary so you can continue arguing , dirty talk.

"stop being so fucking mad at me." frank grumbles out from above, driving the point home by grinding his cock in deeper inside you. your thighs quiver despite yourself where they're hooked around his waist, lewd slapping noises permeating the room just to tease you. “i said sorry an hour ago.”

you keep turning your face, trying to angle it out of reach, or at least force the fury back into your expression. you can’t fight the scrunch of pleasure that crosses your face, however. he can see that too. the grudge held like a stone dam, meant to keep your pride immune and well guarded from the way he's fucking you into the mattress. but it never works.

"m’not-"

"you are." he nips at your shoulder, voice muffled. "you keep clenching up when i talk.” his hips rear back steadily, a wet squelch sounding from where you're joined, then he sinks back in with a grunt of effort. "except down here."

the truth stings worse than the fight itself: frank knows you like the back of his hand. the front and back. he knows exactly how to fuck you until your resentment feels misplaced and petty.

hands that had been pushing against his chest find the silky sheets instead, clutching tight.

"it was a stupid fight," he pushes in again, slowly, allowing you to relish in the thick ridge and veins dragging along your walls while he explains the situation to you.

"and you know it." pride makes you not answer, of course, the only thing you can manage is a soft whine.

"sweetheart," he sighs. "you really gonna let me cum in this pussy while you're busy pretendin' to hate me?" you blink up at him in silent retort. defiance radiating from every inch of your face.

"mmm." the man even has the audacity to pinch the bridge of his nose, like you're the one being unreasonable. like he’s not currently balls deep. "always so fucking stubborn." he reaches between your bodies, thumbing lazily at your clit. "you think i like walking out?"

rage bubbles back up your throat at once, rolling your eyes with the little attitude you had remaining. "you slammed the door — our door — and left."

"you knew damn well i'd come back…” he grunts, not missing a beat to retort. an especially brutal thrust has you seeing stars. "you’re a smart girl, stop acting stupid, yeah?" you try to hitch your hips, to hurry him along but he only holds you down, eyes narrowing.

"go ahead and scream all you want, curse me out, break something if you need to. but don't fall asleep hating me.” he rambles on, shaking his head faintly. “can’t take that shit."

your words come out sharp, bitter once you find your voice. "so what’s your plan, fuck me into forgiveness?”

there's no hesitation in him when a toothy grin splits across his face, "there you go. if we fight in the morning? before work? fine. but if we're sharing a bed like this, we fix it before we close our eyes. understood?" no thought forms twice before your head's nodding stupidly, not an ounce of resistance (or dignity) left in you as he sinks back in.

"good girl, now be sweet to me while i cum."

[mariasont]

SUN-SPLIT LOVERS ── .✦ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

when pope tries to protect you from his family's crude conversations, he ends up having to answer your uncomfortable questions about sex

PAIRING pope cody x bunny reader

WARNINGS suggestive content, explicit talk about sex, obsessive behavior, innocent reader, craig being a dick, mention of crying during sex, pope has dirty thoughts about reader, possessiveness, coercive undertones, age gap, emotional dependency, crude language, if u don't like it don't read!!!!

WORD COUNT 1.9k

The Cody house can be a very uncouth place to be.

Loud in every way possible, in volume and temperament too. Filthy-mouthed. Mean for the pleasure of it.

Craig says something disgusting every third sentence just to hear himself say it, just to get a laugh, just to see who flinches and who doesn’t. Deran’s no better when he’s in the mood to needle. And Smurf, when she wants to, can make a whole room feel dirty with one lifted eyebrow and six words.

Pope has never minded crude things. Never saw much use in pretending to. This place is what it is. He’s used to it. This is his life. This is simply the way he grew up.

But now you’re here, Smurf’s latest little acquisition, her new ornament to polish and put in the window.

Another pretty doll in her crooked collection. All polished and docile and good manners, brought in to handle the things Smurf considers beneath her. Logistics. Errands. Paperwork. Loose ends. The harmless-sounding parts, at least on the surface. 

Pope can’t decide how much you actually know. About any of it, really — where the money comes from, whose hands get dirty, which names to never mention again.

He bets you don’t ask, though, and Smurf must love that. Probably loves that you move through the work the way you do everything else: sweet and unassuming, smiling vacantly like you’re still asleep, floating somewhere in the middle of the ocean, eyes closed, nothing beneath you but endless dark water.

Open-hearted, oblivious, too easy and good to survive here.

So now the vulgarity of the Cody house grates on him. Makes him tense. Makes his shoulders bunch up near his ears. 

“So this chick tells me she can take it, right? Says she can handle anything. Five minutes later she’s cryin’, tellin’ me it’s too good.”

You stand against the fridge, spoon paused midway to your lips, yogurt abandoned as Craig’s drunk slurred chatter hangs in the air.

Pope watches closely, your expression a cloudy haze, eyes soft and curious and unaffected by words that should shock you into silence.

Pope’s fingers twitch at his side, the urge rising like nausea to shake you awake, to wrench you away to somewhere safe. 

He stays rooted instead, his muscles aching from the strain of keeping still as your curious voice cuts through the air.

“Why would she be crying?”

Craig looks at you blankly, his mouth hanging open as incredulity colors his face, like he’s never encountered something quiet so baffling.

A clueless girl in the Cody kitchen. It’s almost funny. It’s definitely not funny to Pope.

Deran, at least, thinks it’s funny, he makes a garbled choking sound and swivels away, a strangled laugh breaking through his arm. 

Craig continues to gape, finally managing a long breath, punctuated by hard edges: “Are you fuckin’ serious?” He tries again, mouth twisting into a smirk as he attempts an explanation, “I mean sometimes people cry when they’re gettin’ fu —”

Pope moves before his brain can catch up. His body knows something his mind hasn’t yet processed, and one second he’s pressed flat and invisible against the wall; the next he’s behind you, palms cupping over your ears. 

Your startled intake of breath dies softly under his touch, your confusion vibrating delicately against his fingertips.

“Don’t,” he growls, gaze sharp, locked onto his sibling’s stunned face. “You finish that sentence and you’ll spend the afternoon putting your jaw back together.”

Craig shakes his head. “The fuck's wrong with you? She's a grown woman. What, you think she's gonna burst into flames if she hears the word sex?” 

Pope’s eyes darken, narrowing into slits as he tightens his hold ever-so-slightly around your ears. 

“Maybe she will. Either way, you won’t be around to see it.”

Craig lets out a low laugh, running his hand through his hair like this whole standoff is just another joke, palms upraised like he’s dealing with a wild animal.

“Alright. Relax. Whatever you say, man.” 

Pope watches him retreat out of the room, Deran trailing not far behind him, likely to finish his story elsewhere.

And that’s fine. As long as he stays over there and out of ear shot of you.

The tension lingering in his tendons only just starts to loosen when he’s out by the pool.

He feels your hands reach up to pull his wrists away from your ears, fingers tentative around his rough palms. Rough palms that make him notice just how soft you feel, petal-pink nails sinking into the course terrain of his own skin.

The contrast is jarring. Scarred knuckles, raised veins, and a web of old cuts meeting hands that have never know real violence.

You pivot in his space, turning to stand toe-to-toe with him. 

You smell like whipped vanilla and candied pears. He forces himself not to lean closer, not to draw in another desperate breath because he wants to pin the scent down, memorize it, peel it apart note by note until he knows exactly what clings to your skin and your hair and your clothes.

“What was that for?” you ask.

Pope looks at you. “You don’t need Craig ‘splainin’ things to you.”

“Does that mean you’d rather explain things to me?”

Is that what he meant? Pope isn’t sure, and the uncertainty bothers him more than he wants to admit. The idea of you coming to him with your honest confusion, earnestly asking him to explain the gritty specifics of things he can hardly voice — no, that sounds like a terrible idea.

You have to know the basics, surely. Isn’t that enough? Pope thinks so. He thinks, really, the less detail you know, the safer your carefully maintained sense of self remains. The longer you stay wrapped in that protective bubble, unblemished by knowledge you shouldn’t have, the better.

Pope doesn't want to be the one who breaks it open. 

“I’m no good at explaining things like that,” he says finally. “Just don’t need Craig putting ideas in your head either. Or anyone else for that matter.”

You take a small step back, and Pope feels like he’s finally getting air into his lungs again. It’s short-lived. You scoop another spoonful of yogurt into your mouth, pretty lips pursed around the spoon, before you tilt your head and look at him thoughtfully. 

“Then… how am I supposed to learn anything?” you ask.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, aware of the incremental tightening of his pants. Fucking pathetic, he thinks.

He clenches his jaw tight before speaking. “You don’t need to know everything. Some things you’re better off not knowing, yeah?”

Your brows knit together. “But wouldn’t it be better if I at least knew —”

Pope cuts you off sharper than he intends. “No. You heard me. Drop it.”

You look away from him, nodding as your shoulders sink a little. “Right. Sorry.”

The frown on your face settles like a shadow Pope desperately wants to wipe away.

It sits wrong there, out of place, disturbing, even. He realizes, abruptly, that he hates seeing you even the tiniest bit upset. He’s not used to it; your smiles come so easily that your unhappiness feels tangible, something he’s placed there.

Something he’s responsible for. It’s rare to see your features drawn up like this. 

God, he’s really fucking this up, isn’t he?

He’s always been a little awkward, always a little too blunt, and no good at smoothing things over. He doesn’t know what comes next, doesn’t understand how to mend whatever he’s broken. Maybe that’s always been the problem, that hollow feeling at the back of his brain, the missing part, the empty gap everyone else seems born knowing how to fill.

“Shit, listen, kid,” Pope clears his throat, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean anything by it, alright? I just meant Craig talks a lot of bullshit and there’s stuff said around here that you really don’t need to learn. But —” He sighs, glancing down at his knuckles. “You’re an adult. If you wanna know things, it’s your call.”

You lift yourself onto the counter, legs swinging gently as you bring another distracted spoonful of yogurt to your mouth. 

“So if I do decide I wanna know something…” You pause, eyes turned up to the ceiling as if testing the air, probing at an unknown territory. “You’ll tell me about it?”

“Yeah,” Pope says slowly. 

He can’t quite meet your gaze, his eyes tracking the linoleum pattern like it’s the most compelling thing in the room. He knows he has no real choice in the matter. Better he’s the one who delivers the hard truth rather than you seeking answers elsewhere. With someone else.

“So…” you say slowly, voice dipping into something quieter, almost shy now. You lift on foot onto the counter, unthinking, the fabric of your skirt slipping upward. Soft pink underwear flashes at the edge of Pope’s vision. “Why exactly was that girl crying — with Craig?”

He takes two steps towards you, broad shoulders angled slightly to shield you from the rest of the room should someone walk in.

He keeps his eyes steadfastly fixed on your face, even as his fingers curl tense at his side, nails biting deep into his palms. 

It’s torture, but he doesn’t glance down. Not even for a second.

He hesitates at your question, searching for words that fit just right. He’s not sure he’ll find them, but he forces himself through it anyway.

“Craig was, uh — he was tryin’ to say she was crying because the sex was good, I guess. But, it’s not always just that. People cry for all kinds of reasons during sex. Could be physical, emotional, whatever. It’s complicated sometimes.” He pauses again, clearing his throat. “People have complex reactions to physical stuff like that.”

“Have you ever —?” Your teeth press carefully into your lower lip. He can see the follow-up question forming in your eyes. “Have you ever cried, you know… during?”

“Yeah.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, uncomfortable already. “Happens.” 

The word feels too small for it. Happens. Like it’s the same as catching a cold. 

“Oh.” 

And then his brain takes a turn and he’s picturing you. A common theme. You with glassy and wide eyes, dark mascara streaking down your cheeks in inky lines as he pounds inside you.

He can almost hear your breath catching, a soft sob, the slick slide of tears along your face for him to kiss away. 

Given your question, Pope doubts you’ve ever felt something so intensely vulnerable. Probably never cried during sex.

Maybe you haven’t even had sex, though he tries not to assume things. Still, it seems likely, given your blushes, your hesitations, the way your eyes widen at even the most indirect innuendos. You could have some scattered experiences, maybe, fragments of intimacy without ever fully grasping how it all works. 

He doesn’t like the sudden flare of possessiveness he feels; he doesn’t want to imagine anyone else ever seeing you like that. 

Pope clears his throat, banishing the image away. “So, uh, did that… answer what you wanted to know? You satisfied now, or?”

Your fingers move to twist the hem of your skirt. You look up through your lashes.

“Yeah,” you murmur finally, a little unsure and entirely too sweet. “I mean, I think so. For now.”

“Yeah,” he says. “You let me know if that changes, then.”

Craig’s voice cuts through the kitchen before either of you can say anything else, his footsteps heavier than usual as he strides back inside from the glass doors.

Pope reaches out and pulls your leg down, adjusting the hem of your skirt in the process.

His skin burns from where he touched you. 

“I’m tellin’ you, if she can’t fit both —”

Pope interrupts him by stepping forward, giving him a swift shove against the wall. Hard. Craig smacks shoulder-first into the wall with a loud thunk.

“Jesus, Pope. What’s your damage today?”

Pope steps back with a neutral expression, shaking out the tension in his knuckles. “Just doing everyone a favor.”

He avoids your eyes, heat still burning up the back of his neck.

A/N - this reader series will be a lil different than my usual i think... will end up being pretty dark and twisty!!! read at your own risk! and to reiterate!! if you don't like, don't read!

FIND MY MASTERLIST HERE! ── .✦ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[dirtygir1]

only soft for you brendon park who plants his fingers through your hair and massages your scalp in the staircase when he sees how overwhelmed you are from the day you’ve had. big brick built body hunched over you, cooing to you in a little voice while you hold his forearms, staring up at him like he’s the world.

“you run yourself a bath when you get home. i won’t be there immediately, but you just text me what you want to eat and use my card for it. you’re ok, you’re gonna be ok. hectic day, yeah? fuckin tell me about it.” he gets you to let out a little giggle through glossy eyes, which makes him smile small.

NO ONE in the ed would ever imagine the piece of shit could be so sweet to you. complete 180 in mood when he walks out after you

[groovyangelkisses]

Happilymarried!Pope who makes everything a onesided competition on who treats their wife best. He just wants to brag how he kisses the ground u walk on because how are they criminals but Cath has to work at a bar??? Uh uh not Pope's wife, she's lapping up the sun by the pool in their house or busy spending his money around, not a care in the damn world hair done nails done in a cute lil car...his card has never graced the leather of his wallet cause its always in her purse

oh my gosh yes, absolutely. oh he's so husband ohhhh i'm sick!! i especially love this with ditzy, bimbo!reader <3 i got a little carried away but it's andrew so it fits! :)

everyone's at the house waiting for dinner to be made, just standing around and chatting. it's hot, bordering on nauseating humidity, and all andrew wants to do is see his pretty wife before dinner. he needs alone time, quiet time in his old room to just sit and gaze at you as you chatter.

but now? andrew's engaged in a mindless conversation with craig, hearing him drone on about his latest hook-up while he stands with his hands on his hips nervously. you're due at smurf's house at any minute, a promise you made as you laid out on the beachfront of your home, waving at andrew as he got in his truck to meet up with the boys earlier that day.

he couldn't stop himself from kissing you. he was 15 minutes late. big fuckin' deal. andrew's family knew he needed his "you time".

deran's cooking tonight, much to pope's chagrin, and the cody's are all a bit anxious to eat the food. "oh no i literally have the pizza place down the block on speed dial" j expresses in between sips of his beer, before deran angrily chimes in from inside the house "jokes on you, dickhead, i catered."

baz sits on a lounger with cath, holding her to his side as he talks to j about an upcoming job. she's sticky with bar-soda stains and exhausted with the sheer movement of a work ethic. staring down at her ring, she runs her thumb over the diamond, wondering how life could've been different. her eyes flicker over to the oldest cody, and she can remember a time when she'd always find him looking back at her. but that hasn't happened in a long time. her shoulders crack with resignation and envy.

a horn honking, a happy squeal from the driveway, and andrew's straightening up his miserable stance. the thick gummy sole of his jordans rub against the concrete as he, quite literally, walks away from craig mid conversation. "bro-" craig shrugs, turning to look at baz in confusion as baz smiles "his girls home bro, you lost him the second the tires pulled in the driveway." craig stomps into the house, but he's not really angry, never could be at pope, "fucker has super hearing, man"

andrew walks to the driveway, shoulders losing their hunch the closer he gets to your bubblegum pop music and toothy smile. it's hard for andrew to smile, he'd often tell you, late in the dark of your bedroom, "'it's like it hurts a bit. hurts my face, i guess" but right now? his smile is beaming; crooked, endearing teeth on display with a light flush. it's probably because his brothers are inside, he never liked smiling with his teeth before you.

"andy!!" you cheer, wide smile and bouncing in lightly between your left and right foot. andrew doesn't even slow his steps, just keeps trudging towards you until you're in his arms. one big hand hooked behind your head for a long, sloppy kiss. waaaay too much of a display for normal public settings. his breath hitches as your hands drag under his t-shirt, nails lightly scraping his sides.

breathing in through his nose, andrew pulls back to look down his nose at you, "missed you. where you been? how was shopping?" "good! really good andy, wanna see?" "later. lemme get a feel for you. missed you so much" with more kisses to your cheeks as he pushes the hair away from your eyes <3

when you go into the yard, you're smiling and waving at the cody's as you hang onto andrew's arm. your ring glistening in the reflection of the pool, cath can't help but swallow bitterly. andrew trails next to you, head fully turned to listen to you rant and rave about the latest sales and the cute clothing you bought for yourself and him. he looks like he could and would eat you whole at the nearest convenience. it's been years, and he still looks at you the same way.

at dinner, you sit on andrew's lap, legs swinging as you bring the fork to his mouth. craig can barely look but deran smiles into his food; it's nice to see pope happy (even if it is gross to witness at dinner). when his iced tea needs to be refilled, you lean forward over the table, his hand resting on the side of your ass to stabilize you. he's not comfy until the weight of his pretty wife is resting on his thighs.

later that night, when you are all cozy and chatting on the couch, you lift your feet into andrew's lap. he doesn't even bat an eye, moving like it's routine.... because it is. slipping off your lil platform flip flops, starting with a massage at your ankle, andrew massages your foot lovingly as he watches the conversations around him. "'s that good?" he speaks lowly to you, and you nod excitedly.

it's almost torture for cath to watch. she was on her feet for probably 9 hours today, and here you are: shiny toe ring, perfectly, freshly manicured toes. begging andrew for a massage, "think i twisted it after i ran out of victoria's secret." his voice sounds alien to her "'s no good baby, gotta watch your step, we talked about this" soooo husbandly and earnest.

[mrsmckay]

oh i know dada