Triggers: mention of suffocation, murder, crying, slight mentions of religious aspects.
Enjoy everyone!
The knock on your door was loud; it was Andrew. A rhythmic tap that had your soul purring, you quickly turn off the stove, still humming along to the tune of the song you had just been listening to. He knocked again, and a smile curled the corner of your lips. Flipping the locks was second nature, the deadbolt coming too; your lips part, but the words die on your tongue when you see the lines of anguish on Andrew's face.
“Please”, his voice, normally calm and smooth, cracks; his eyes shine like freshly polished glass.
“Andrew,” you say his name like it means something, like he wasn’t a monster, “Andy? What’s wrong?”
He steps into your home, his hands shaking and his jaw clenched so tight, his teeth could almost be heard cracking; his hands big and warm engulf yours. A broken noise tears from his chest that has your own eyes watering. He drags your hands to his forehead, and his knees give out, so he was kneeling before you. He looked like a man praying for forgiveness, like a sinner begging for absolution from a saint.
“I did something bad,” he croaks, looking up at you, his broad shoulders shaking, “I hurt someone.”
His rough hands are holding yours like a lifeline, his hazel eyes look up at you, begging for forgiveness, “Please, forgive me.”
Your chest aches, metal coating the back of your tongue, and your jaw aches as you try to swallow back the tears. Andrew needed you to be strong, needed you to be the glue that held him together.
“Tell me, Andrew Cody, tell me what you did,” you whisper, slipping a hand from his hold to gently push his hair back; his curls were unruly, you would need to cut them soon. His skin was damp with sweat, like whatever he needed to confess was burning him up from the inside.
His chest heaves with a sob, his face pressing into the soft skin of your tummy, his arms curling like bands around your hips. This was the most emotion you had ever seen from your boyfriend. You had known that he held pain inside of him, had known that something from his past chased him.
“I-I hurt a woman I loved,” his voice shakes, and his hands grip your hips tighter, not in the way he normally gripped your hips but like he was silently begging you to stay.
You hum softly, a gentle encouragement for him to continue talking, his damp curls wrap around your finger as you scrape your nails over his scalp. He kneels at the altar of you and sobs softly.
“I put a pillow over her face and pressed down until she stopped breathing,” he sobbed.
His words hit you like an icy wave, fear curled at the bottom of your spine, the tears finally spill down your cheeks.
“I didn’t want to, please, I didn’t want to, but… she was going to hurt my family,” he was rambling now, words spilling and tumbling over each other over and over.
His body shakes harder, his muscles tensing like he was waiting for you to push him away, to scream at him and reject him like you should, as he deserved. Still, he begged you not to leave him, to keep him, he’d do anything for you, shred his soul to pieces for you,
“Andy,” you whisper his name, shifting to kneel with him, your soft hands coming to cup the back of his head and tucking his face to your neck.
“I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” you whisper into his ear, curling your arms tighter around his broad shoulders, “I’m staying right here with you.”
You can tell he doesn’t believe you, but he clings to you tighter as if he could physically merge the two of you together. You would hold him together even if his jagged edges cut you to pieces, you would hold him together even as your blood soaked the floor and your soul shatters to pieces. For Andrew, you would break yourself to pieces; he deserved to be loved with someone's whole being.
Reader who is Pope's penpal while he is in prison, it's a program that they run to try and keep the prisoners connected to the outside world. Pope slowly falls in love with you, like completely and utterly insanely in love with you. He keeps all your letters under his mattress, all the Polaroids you send are his prized possessions.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody would do anything for you, anything at all.
You need help opening a jar; he's there in a second. You want to repaint the walls of your house for a third time? He's grabbing the tools from his brothers and getting to work.
Andrew loves doing things for you; he loves knowing he is the man you rely on for help. He'll carry your shopping into the house for you, already putting it away by the time you shrug off your jacket and kick off your shoes.
Your car broke down? He'll be there in five; just stay put. Andrew calls in a few favours and has your car towed safely back to your place. Why are you crying? Can't afford to get it fixed; he thinks you look so pretty with your eyes filled with tears. You don't need to cry; he will fix it for you. You don't even need to pay him; he's more than happy to do it for you. Just ignore the fact that he is the one that broke your car in the first place, okay?
Tw: Stalking, Pantie fucking, pope being a freak, breaking in.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody loves your panties, the man doesn't give a fuck what they look like, they just smell like you.
He loves picking them up off the floor and burying his face into them, breathing you deeply into his lungs. His cock gets hard in a few seconds, stirring to life so fast he almost passes out.
He laps at the gusset, head spinning, mouth watering. All he could taste was you, you, you. He groans against the fabric, his mind filled with you, how you would feel sitting on his face, how your warmth and wetness would feel on his tongue as he palms himself.
His cock is heavy and leaking when he finally pulls it out, the fabric of your panties is perfectly wet as he wraps it around his cock. His hips roll fucking the fabric as he imagines you wrapped around him. He cums hard, like a horny teenager, managing to catch all his load in the fabric.
He steals another pair before he leaves, slipping out your window before you could come home and find the stranger that stares too much in your home.
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