baby daddy!pope who’s super protective of his kid. he doesn’t let his brothers hold your guys’ baby for too long, taking him back after a couple of minutes with a gruff “alright, that’s enough,” leaving craig and deran sharing a look.
baby daddy!pope who’s always the first one to wake up (and he’s glad he is because you do so much already) whenever your baby’s crying and fussing during the night. he’ll walk over to his crib and carefully pick him up, rubbing and patting his back gently as he tries to soothe him back to sleep. if it’s not working, he’ll carry him downstairs and make him a bottle of formula with his free hand while perfectly balancing your son with the other.
baby daddy!pope who’s always keeping an eye on your little one even when he’s in the midst of a conversation. if he sees him crawling towards an unsafe place, he’ll walk away from the person who was speaking to him- without so much as a word, to go pick him up.
baby daddy!pope who insists on feeding his baby each time because watching them trying to feed themselves is too much for pope’s ocd as they’re getting more mushy peas on their face than in their actual mouth.
baby daddy!pope who often just watches his baby sleep with a mixture of adoration and disbelief that something so pure and innocent was half a product of what he did.
baby daddy!pope who definitely cried the first time he ever held his son.
summary: pope comforts you after you have an argument with your brother
a/n: another self indulgent piece, i’m sorry guys💔 but my brother’s made me cry twice this week and i’m always just thinking about popey afterwards :(
pope came home a little later from smurf’s than usual. ever since he started sharing a home with you, he hated being there any longer than necessary. he could picture you curled up on the couch with a blanket, mindlessly watching something on the tv, your legs tucked under you. the image had the corner of his lip tugging up, despite his exhaustion, as he unlocked the front door and walked into the house. his steps however slowed for a moment as he became acutely aware of the lack of voices drifting from the tv into the hallway. he carried on walking to the living room. as suspected, the tv was off, you were missing from your usual spot and the blanket hadn’t even been touched from when he folded it and left it on the arm of the couch this afternoon. his brow furrowed. he was late but it wasn’t late. you always watched tv at this time. liked to unwind before bed. he checked the other two rooms downstairs before heading up. his steps were quiet against the floorboards as he made a beeline for your shared bedroom. the door was slightly ajar allowing him to peek in and make out your form underneath the blanket. as he walked in, he realised your back was turned towards him. for a second, he thought you were tired and had just fallen asleep early but then he heard you sniffling. and saw your shoulders trembling. he was perceptive enough to figure out what was happening.
pope slowly pulled back the covers and climbed in. you could feel the mattress dip with his weight behind you, your heart beating erratically against your ribcage as you tried to regulate your breathing. he could hear how shaky your breaths were- the kind they’d get after a good amount of crying. his jaw ticks at that thought- you crying, here, alone. he should’ve been here. his arms circled around your waist and he pressed a soft kiss against the back of your neck before gently guiding you to turn over. his heart physically ached seeing the orange glow from your lamp illuminate the tear tracks on your face.
“what’s the matter, sweetheart?”
god, the question had you crumbling all over again. the gentleness in which he asked you stripped away all your pretenses. fresh tears flood your eyes and pope’s hand starts rubbing down your back soothingly. he hated seeing you like this. you could be crying over spilled milk and he’d find a way to get it back inside the carton again.
“it’s dumb.”
“nothing you’re upset about could be dumb.”
you sniffle. you know he means it. you’re sensitive but he’s never once made you feel bad or a burden because of it.
“it’s just my brother.” you mumble, sounding utterly defeated.
pope’s eyes darken a fraction. he knows your relationship with your brother isn’t great. it’s not the first time you’ve cried over him. he doesn’t even have to hear your brother’s side to know he should be doing better. he was your older brother.
“what did he do?”
you hesitate, “nothing, he- we just had an argument over the phone…”
he looks at you, trying to read your mind by sheer willingness alone. he knew siblings fought- he had 3 brothers but your relationship with yours has always been tense. you got so upset every time he got under your skin because despite everything he was still your brother and you still loved him. you still sought his validation. pope hated it. you were so sweet and kind, you deserved more than being treated like this by your own family.
you bury yourself closer to pope’s chest, a tear sliding down your cheek.
“he’s a prick.” you say into his shirt.
“i know, baby.” one hand rubs small circles against your back while the other grips your hip, keeping you close to him. “next time he calls, don’t answer.”
you frown slightly, “he hates when i don’t answer or text him back.”
pope’s jaw clenches at that. you were afraid of disappointing him because you hated him confronting you about it. it only upset you more in the long run.
“if he has something to say to you, he can say to me.” he lifts your chin up so you were looking at him, “you’re not alone.”
your eyes gloss over for the upteenth time that night. your bottom lip quivers and you hide yourself back in the sanctuary of pope’s embrace.
you know the scene where amy tells pope to go, after her brother came to drop the dog off, but pope stays and just hugs her, yeah that’s exactly what i need right now.
reader who doesn’t sound like they’ve been dropped out of a magazine, reader who doesn’t have smooth and creamy skin, reader who doesn’t have their hair constantly blown out or put together, reader who doesn’t smell like vanilla or lavender cause their skin is really sensitive, reader who hates themselves and is actually just really plain </3
it's 3am and you've gotten up to pee when you notice that your husband pope cody is not in his usual spot next to you in the bed.
you turn on the lamp next to your bed, wake yourself up a bit, and then head out into the hallway to find where your husband has ended up, and that's when you see him.
he's taken a chair from your dining room table and set it up outside of your daughter's door. he's sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, his posture straight, and once he notices you in the hallway he moves his gaze up to you.
"andrew?" you question, "what are you doing?"
"she's been having trouble sleeping," is all he says to explain what he's doing. he's not wrong, the past couple of nights your daughter has inevitably ended up in your bed. you've woken up in the middle of the night due to her cold feet pressing into your legs as she shuffles in between you and pope.
when you ask her in the morning she'll tell you that she had a bad dream, and you don't think the way the light from her window casts a shadow on her closet door helps either.
"so you're going to sit here all night?" you ask.
"i wasn't going to sleep anyway," he says, "i'm here if she needs me." you walk closer to him and run your hands through his hair, taking a second to admire your husband and his heart full of so much love.
"do you need anything?" you ask, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. "i can get you a blanket? a snack?"
"i'm fine," he says, but you disappear down the hallway and towards your living room anyway. when you return, you have a blanket in your hand.
"i could've gotten that myself."
"i know," you put the blanket in his lap. you know he's too stubborn to let you do things for him, but that doesn't stop you from doing them.
"i'll be in bed if you need me," you leave him with a kiss and head back to your bedroom.
thinking, thinking about watching pope train in the backyard, your legs lazily swinging back and forth as you sit perched on one of the stools, watching your boyfriend land punch after punch against the bag. he looks insanely attractive; his muscles rippling with each fluid movement, the occasional grunt leaving him as his fists connect with the leather, a light sheen of sweat glistening across his freckled back. needless to say, you were very much enjoying the view.
you hop off and walk towards him.
“can you teach me?”
pope lands another punch before turning to face you, his chest rising and falling heavily.
“teach you what?” he pants out.
“how to throw a punch.”
he just looks at you, that quiet intensity he holds in his gaze melting slowly whenever it’s you he’s seeing.
“you serious?” he asks softly, to which you eagerly nod.
however you’re a little giddy as pope stands behind you, his hands on your forearms as he guides your closed fists because mind you, this is still your very attractive boyfriend teaching you something he’s more than knowledgable in. you can’t stop smiling and letting out a few giggles, just happy to be close to him. like you needed a reason to be.
“thought you wanted to learn, huh?” he whispers in your ear in that raspy voice you love so, so much.
i’m getting so upset just because i asked my brother to get me a slush on his way back home (because it’s boiling !!) and he didn’t get me one😭 don’t even need to check my flo app to know i’m starting soon
(i just know pope would’ve and he would’ve brought an extra snack for me too🤧)
this pic has me horny af so here’s thigh riding with pope
minors dni
your hands were braced on pope’s broad shoulders as you dragged your panty-soaked cunt back and forth over the rough fabric of his jeans. your head was tipped back, little whines escaping your lips as your hips moved in desperate circles, chasing your pleasure. pope was watching you with that intensity that most people found unsettling but was only serving to make you more slick, your panties sticking to your wet flesh like a second skin. you don’t even know how long you had been at this. but he’d just looked so good sitting there, his thick thighs spread out comfortably, minding his own business as he watched one of his nature documentaries. it really didn’t take much for him to make your pussy throb.
your mewls only grew more needy, frustrated at the deliberate lack of friction that his cock would have you feeling within seconds.
“popey…” you whine, grinding down harder directly on his bulge that had been growing the minute you crawled into his lap.
pope hisses slightly, his hands coming to your hips to steady himself more than you.
“what is it, sweetheart?”
“can’t… wanna cum.” you pout, looking at him all doe-eyed and pleading. he bites back a groan. god, he was so fucking hard, his tip weeping with pre-cum.
“you can do it, baby.” he murmurs, his hands now rubbing your sides soothingly. “just a little more, honey, i know you can do it, hm?”
your cunt clenches around nothing at his deep, raspy voice, so reassuring and gentle even now as he unravelled every shred of your dignity.
you whine into his neck, your hips never stopping their relentless movements even as your poor clit throbbed and ached for some real attention, achy and puffy from rubbing against his denim.
“you want my help, baby?” he asks, pressing a sweet kiss to your neck. if you weren’t so out of it, you’d pick up on the light condescension dripping from his voice.
your nod is immediate and pope smiles, two fingers tugging your drenched panties aside to circle your swollen little button. your mouth falls open, a raw moan leaving your lips as you slump against his frame. you grind slowly against his palm, your body vibrating with need as your thighs tense around his middle.
“there… that better?”
he has you coming shortly after, your juices seeping out from your ruined panties and onto his jeans and when you accidentally shift against his clothed cock, you’re not even the least bit surprised to find him soft <3
need more shy awkward!pope so here are some headcannons 𑣲
shy, awkward!pope who desperately wants to initiate affection but doesn’t know how so he’ll just keep glancing at you, trying to communicate with his eyes.
shy, awkward!pope who doesn’t know what to do with his hands when he’s overwhelmed.
shy, awkward!pope who would stiffen at the beginning of your relationship whenever you’d touch him, not because he didn’t want you to but because he had never been touched so gently or without an ulterior motive.
shy, awkward!pope who needs you to take the lead more often than not.
shy, awkward!pope who absolutely despises social gatherings but will endure them for you.
shy, awkward!pope who doesn’t quite know where to put his hands whenever you’re kissing him. he doesn’t wanna overstep, doesn’t want to take or ask for more than you’re already giving.
shy, awkward!pope who hates whenever people (other than you) try to engage in conversation with him.
shy, awkward!pope who stumbles over his words whenever he’s trying to compliment you because you genuinely make his brain short-circuit.
shy, awkward!pope who now melts into your embraces but struggles with looking you in the eye whenever he does.
omg??😭😭 i’d like to thank andrew cody for reviving my account🙏 AND TO ANYONE WHO’S LIKED ANY OF MY FICS cause i’m really not a writer and i never would’ve imagined my posts getting to this number of likes. I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO MUCH MWAH !!!!
pope is a loverboy at heart and that translates when you’re also having sex with him.
if you’re on top, he’s holding you close, large hands splayed out on your waist as he looks at you like you hung the moon yourself. when you’re riding him, he tries to keep his own moans as contained as possible, more interested in hearing every little gasp that leaves your parted lips.
but when he’s above you, it’s like all his restraint goes out the window. his hands are intertwined with yours beside your head while he’s grunting and moaning in your ear between each thrust, “fuck, y’feel so good, honey. love you so much, y’know that? don’t know what i’d do without you.”
and he just gets more talkative and whinier when he’s close, the words tumbling out of his mouth before his brain can even process them. “fuck, fuck, love you so fucking much. you’re never gonna leave me, right? don’t leave me, please, i need you so bad.”
“a-andrew!”
“i know, baby. need you to cum with me, sweet girl. need to feel it, need you to-mmph!” his words are cut off with a sharp moan, the sound reverberating in your ear as he spills deep inside of you, earlier than he wanted. his face is buried in your shoulder, flushed and sweaty, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. you make him lose his damn mind.
“i’m sorry, ‘m so sorry, you just… was too good, couldn’t stop myself.” he mutters, ashamed, pressing apologetic kisses against your neck.
(a/n: i know a few people on here have written something similar to this idea. i’ve had this in my drafts for a while now and i am in no way trying to steal anyone’s work !!)
as a curly-haired girly, i absolutely love the idea of you and pope sharing curly hair products <333
it definitely doesn’t take pope as much to maintain his curls as it does for you. but when he steps out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, he’ll casually browse your selection of products on your vanity (which he built for you) and grab your curl cream, applying a dollop of it to his palms before raking it through his hair. and that’s it. that’s all he does. it’s honestly a little infuriating sometimes that that’s all he needs to do for his curls to come out so gorgeous when you spend an hour, tops, on your hair. he just smiles as he listens to you rant about how annoying the whole process is while you brush and finger coil your wet strands. but he’ll also diffuse your hair for you once your arm starts to get tired <33
