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| Madi | 19 | She/Her | Side Blog: @madi-writes-things

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[mmelete]

[firehouse-subs-fr]

No way

[liaissante]

apple pie ❀ f. langdon

summary – in which frank langdon comes home from a god awfully long day, but you’re there, so maybe it’s okay. and, he so graciously makes it up to you in the morning.

pairing – frank langdon x fem!reader genre – smut (18+ mdni) tags – oral (m receiving). fingering. oral (f receiving). slight s/d dynamics. softdom!frank. praise. #fingersinmouth! word count – 3k a/n – hello da pittblr my name is lia im 5’4 based in redacted city this is my audition to be apart of your community i rlly hope i get the role ❤️ p.s. new fic format yay!

There’s envy in Frank Langdon’s chest as he trudges through the lobby of his apartment building, backpack slung across his shoulders with an almost unbearable weight. Despite, funnily enough, being significantly lighter than it had been that morning, now that his water bottle and lunch containers were empty. 

Sixteen hours since he left home, and he’s sure he’s aged ten years in that time. The envy in his chest, only there because he knows there’s people out there that work less than him—less hours, less effort—but still make the same amount of money, if not more. Those people have everything, he thinks. He’d kill for a job that didn’t drain both the energy and the life out of him. 

He runs his hands down his face, index fingers poking into his eyes until stars and flashes of colourful streaks paint his brain, as the elevator ascends past floors. Having an apartment on a high level is great in theory, and great when you’re on your first year of residency and aren’t the one mentoring everybody else. Now, as numbers tick away in the elevator screen, Frank’s wishing he could be any closer to the ground. 

It dings, and he’s brought out from his trance, feet dragging on the floor with the irritating shuffle sound. At least at ten p.m., there’s hardly any people littered around the hallways to see him in such a state. 

His keys rattle as he puts them in the keyhole, and he’s acutely aware of how loud the sound is in the otherwise silent hallway. Maybe, if he were any less dead to the world, he’d care enough to be considerate. 

Then, it swings open, and he’s hit in the face by an air conditioned warmth, the smell of lasagna, and the yellow glow of the living room lamps still switched on. Among them sits your silhouette, head bowed, no doubt so lost in a book you didn’t hear him come in. 

He smiles only to himself, as all sixteen hours of dread and worry melt away with just your figure presented before him. Reminded, immediately, that he too has everything

The door clicking shut behind him alerts you, and your head pokes up from the couch. You brighten, instantly, and he drops his bag down to the floor with a heavy sigh. 

“When you said you were gonna be late, I didn’t think you meant this late,” you say as he makes his way over to you, arms wrapping around your shoulders from behind the couch, burying his face into your neck. 

“Me neither. I’m sorry,” he mumbles, lips tickling your skin with the movement. 

“There’s lasagna in the fridge,” you hum, kissing his forearm just before he loosens his hold and leans back. 

His head turns to glance at the aforementioned fridge, “Yeah, I can smell it. I gotta have a shower first.”

You peer up at him through your head tilted back over the couch edge, and when he returns his gaze from the kitchen to you, he laughs, seeing you bat your eyelashes so subtly. 

“Do you want something?” he braces his arms beside your head, lowering his face down.

“Do you?”

“I could use the company.”

You jump up in victory (narrowly missing colliding heads with him), racing around the couch. He lets you drag him towards the bathroom, allowing you to exert all the effort into getting the two of you there. Tiredly, he watches you. Your pyjamas—for lack of a better word, really they were his blank navy t-shirt covering some loose shorts—hang off your body, and your hair is still slightly damp, so he knows you’re only joining him in the shower for more time with him, instead of practicality. 

You looked so excited, though. To spend time with him. Never mind the suggestiveness behind your fluttering lashes and smug smile. 

“Do I have to do everything?” you grumble, and his mind returns to his body as his skin tingles from your fingertips brushing his waist.

“It never goes unappreciated,” he tilts his head, before letting you lift his shirt over his head. 

“It will, because you’re tired, and kind of grumpy, so I’m gonna be doing all the work,” you huff, rambling to yourself, really. A string of complaints he knows if he tried to rebut, you’d defend instantly. 

He helps you out by taking the bottom half of his clothes off, so you can focus on removing your own articles of clothing—again, technically, they’re his—before he loops his arms around your waist, dropping his lips down to your jawline. “I will make it up to you tomorrow morning, I promise.”

“Ohh, I am holding you to that one, Dr. Langdon,” you jab a finger into his chest, and he laughs, catching your wrist before you can do it again. You drop your hands back by your side after that, jerking your head towards the shower. “In, before I change my freaking mind.”

“Yes ma’am,” he obeys instantly, stepping beneath the shower head.

He takes one for the team, at least, and turns it on, copping the fallout of ice cold water before it begins to heat up to a reasonable temperature. 

You get what needs to be done out of the way. Granted, he has to duck down so you can reach your hands up to lather the shampoo against his scalp. It’s a welcome massage that almost makes him forget about how long and unkind this day has been to him. 

If he were any less attuned to everything about you, perhaps he’d not catch the art of your hands dancing across his skin suggestively when you brought body soap into the routine. However, he did. Your fingers lingering a little longer than necessary on his thighs, and your eyes spending a bit too much time looking down. Telltale signs of what you were about to do, and yet his breath hitched when you lowered to your knees anyways. 

One shift straight from the deepest, darkest depths of hell itself, all drowned out by the sound of the water hitting the shower floor right behind him, and forgotten about immediately from the way you peer up at him. 

You were so pretty. A perverse thought to have when you’re on your knees in front of him, though he believes you always look pretty. It’s just, he’s had a really bad day, and you’re confidently leading the mission of distracting him. Brain fried from too many clinical mishaps and body aching from too much running around, he thinks he deserves to tilt his head back and let how pretty you are right now overwhelm his focus.

“Fuck,” he breathes out when you let your lips make contact with his cock, dragging your tongue up the underside of it. 

With keen interest, you watch him. The way his face contorts when you take him into your mouth, and the way he has to brace a hand onto the shower wall when you use your hand to cover what you couldn’t fit. Grunting when you set a steady pace, one his exhausted brain couldn’t quite keep up with.

You were inexplicably good at this, and it has always been his kryptonite. Sometimes, you would play this card when you were arguing over meaningless things. Like what to have for dinner, or what movie to watch, and you are effectively able to turn him into putty within your hands. 

So, that, on top of how much slower his braincells were moving, he is just forced to entangle a hand in your hair to keep himself upright. Pure selfish need, and not at all to hear the way you mewl in surprise at the feeling of his fingers dragging along your scalp. Entire body on fire with need because you are, at the end of the day, pleasurable by giving. 

“Yeah,” he rocks to the side to hold his head against the wet tiles, fluttering his eyes shut as you work his cock expertly. “Fuck, baby. You’re so good at this, you know?”

You hum in content, and he lazily smiles, staring down at you through half-lidded eyes. You were partial to praise, he knew that, and so he focussed on decorating the air with them. Instead of—perhaps the more pressing matter—not coming. 

“Prettiest thing in the world—shit—look at you,” he lets his hand glide down from your scalp to your face, cupping your cheek and holding your head, gently. His other hand, still supporting his weight against the wall, clenches into a fist when you lose eye contact with him to take him further into your mouth. He curses, a little louder this time. “You need to—fuck—baby, I need you to stop, or slow down, or—or something, otherwise this is gonna be over real soon.”

You don’t listen. In fact, you hum again, the note vibrating around his cock and making him moan. You follow that by quickening the pace you were going, and it’s what finally breaks him. 

He tries to warn you. Stammering out a string of, “Hey—hey, okay, you can—oh my God—stop, honey. Pull back. I’m going to—” that is ultimately cut off by his orgasm. One you don’t back down from, and one that leaves his chest heaving. 

Leaning back on your heels, you stare up at him, and he falters upon seeing your throat bob with a swallow. A lopsided grin stretching across your face as you stand from the shower floor, saying nothing as you reach behind him and turn the shower off. 

Plunged into quiet, with the only sounds being both of your breathing, you stare at him until he cracks first, laughing and hanging his head, wet hair falling in front of his face. 

“My knees hurt,” you sigh, taking slow steps out of the shower, finding a towel to wrap around your body. 

“Do they?” he asks, following close behind you. When you nod, he places his hands on your waist, giving you half a second of a warning before he’s lifting you to perch you up on the bathroom counter. “Let me see.”

Moving the towel out of the way, he crouches down so he can look at your knees, clicking his tongue when he runs his fingers over the skin, and your face distorts in discomfort. 

“Happens when you kneel on a hard surface,” he points out, and you glance down at him, annoyed. 

“Really? I’m appalled. I knew I should’ve brought a pillow into the shower.”

“That would’ve gone well,” he muses, standing back up, using his palms to rub circles onto your kneecaps. “I think staying off of the shower floor and some rest will fix you right up.”

“Thank you, Doctor. What would I do without you?”

“Have perpetually sore knees, I’m sure,” he says, ducking down to kiss your lips when you open them to protest with something along the lines of, ‘I wouldn’t have sore knees without you’, probably. 

You drag him to bed soon after, the post orgasmic haze wearing off and leaving him jellylike in the bathroom. You have to force him through the doorway and into bed, at which he hits the mattress with such force you’re surprised it didn’t collapse the floor beneath it. 

“Goodnight to you too,” you huff, leaving the room for only a short second to switch off all the lights. 

Once you’ve returned, he’s staring at the doorway expectantly. Foolishly, you fall for the wanting look in his eyes, and climb right into his arms without the hint of a second thought. 

“I am sorry you had a bad shift,” you murmur, drawing circles onto his chest with your fingers. 

“Only up from here,” he sighs, and though you know that perhaps for tomorrow that may be true, there’s a hundred more shifts just like today waiting for him to live through. It’s a thought that keeps you antsy at night. 

“Only up from here,” you agree with a nod. 

When Frank wakes up the next morning, his alarm isn’t going off. There’s no sun peeking through the curtains, however the time on his phone reads 04:18, so at least it isn’t the middle of the night. Not at all a reasonable time to wake you up, he knows, but he’s got forty-two minutes until his alarm starts blaring, and he really has to get up. Plus, he promised to make it up to you, and he thinks this waking up before his alarm thing is for a reason. 

Slowly untangling your arms from his, he rolls you onto your back, pausing when you stir, then placing his lips against yours. 

He trails kisses from your mouth down your jawline, hands running up the sides of your body, until you begin to rouse. 

“What time is it?” you mumble, voice coated in that sleep-induced husk that makes him smile. 

“Early,” he whispers, nipping your jawline. “You can go back to sleep after, I promise.”

“After what?” you frown, confused. 

“I make it up to you.”

You’re still too half-asleep to make the connection in his words, all up until he’s kissed his entire way down your body, stopping short of where your pyjama shirt ends, and your thighs begin. Then, you remember, and you let your limbs sink into the mattress. 

“Yeah, okay,” you agree. It sounds halfhearted, but your legs part on instinct, so he continues with hooking his fingers into your pyjama shorts’ waistband and pulling them down your legs. 

His breath is warm against your skin, his fingers parting your folds and making you squirm.

He jolts you awake with one long stripe of his tongue, emitting a moan from you almost instantly. Letting the sensation settle into your bones until you’re painfully on edge and waiting for whatever he does next. Then, he does it again. 

“This is being mean, not making it up to me,” you scold, quietly, head lulling to one side and keeping your eyes transfixed on him. 

“Just wanna take my time with you,” he replies, calmly, dragging a finger up, through your slit, gathering both the wetness from his saliva, and from you naturally, before he brings it back down to help push a finger into you. 

“Oh,” you gasp, eyes darting up to the ceiling in an attempt to focus on something other than him. Frank, who is between your legs, hair falling in front of his face, and staring at you with piqued interest. 

Piqued interest like he has to figure you out, as if he doesn’t already know every single thing that makes you come. If he really wanted to, he could have you convulsing in two minutes. He has. 

He twists his finger around until he hears you involuntarily whine, and so he makes true to his promise to make it up to you, and leans forwards, attaching his lips to your clit. 

You moan, the added assault on your already sleepy body doing nothing for helping you remain composed. He circles his tongue around your clit, index finger creating a steady pace of movement. 

“Frank,” you whimper.

“Yeah, baby?” he lifts his head, looking up at you, removing the stimulation on your clit, but keeping his fingers at their same rhythm. 

“Hi,” you simply smile at him, and he laughs.

“Hey,” he rests his cheek on your thigh, waiting a few seconds before he adds a second finger in, a shudder rolling down your spine at the stretch. “Feel good?” When you nod, he slows his thrusts right down, “Words, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, Frank,” you nod, eyes fluttering shut, “feels good.”

He hums in content, and takes that opportunity to lean forwards again and reattach his mouth to your core. 

Flicking his tongue over your clit rather quickly, causing your body to jolt from the unexpected sensation. Then, he does it again, and again, and again, until you’re reckoning with a tightening knot in your stomach, and stumbling over incoherent ‘please’s and curse words. 

He pulls back just at the last second, replacing his tongue with his thumb, for no reason other than to commentate. Asshole. 

“Yeah, there you go, pretty girl,” he murmurs, palm outstretched on your abdomen to keep your hips firmly on the mattress as you come. “Look at you.”

Your chest heaves, and you stare at the ceiling to recollect yourself, before your eyes divert back to him. He pulls his fingers out at that moment, bringing them to your lips. Instinctively, you part them, and he pushes them into your mouth, where you refuse to break eye contact. It’s a power play that doesn’t really work, because he drags his fingers back out soon after, and lifts himself back up to peck your lips. 

“I have to go get ready now,” he informs you, quietly, and you let out a disgruntled moan. “I know, but I do.”

“Or, you could call in sick.”

“Not happening, stop being a bad influence,” he gently bites the corner of your mouth. 

You frown when he steps off the bed, leaving you tangled within sheets. Alone. You hope your wide, desperate eyes are enough to get him to get back into bed and forget about his important job that the two of you know he does actually have to go to. 

They aren’t, so instead you call, “Come back to say goodbye?” when he heads towards the bathroom. You catch his nod. 

However, that’s the last thing you catch. 

When six o’clock rolls around, and Frank heads back into the bedroom to stay true to his word, he finds you fast asleep. Head on his pillow, curled up and holding the duvet between your arms. Early morning sun only just peeking through the gaps in the curtains, thin beams of light decorating what skin on you he could see.

So as to not disturb you, he stands there for a minute with a smile on his lips, before slowly, and softly, closing the door.

[mochapuppy]

Pope with a cutie patiootie frills and baby pink reader gf who absolutely don't play about her man. Five foot and some change in a frilly skirt and a hair bow but god forbid she sees anyone try to flirt with Andy before she's coming over to defend her territory like she's mike tyson

Andrew all cute n blushy holding miss reader back cuz she's tipsy and pissed and wants to fight this random girl that asked for his number at Deran's bar, more than a little flustered that he's getting such a reaction like helloooo you're a gorgy hunk why would i not get jealous...

Trying his best not to smile when reader is sat in his lap and all up in his business, arms looped round his neck, lipgloss smeared on her lips cause she's dedicated! to marking her territory but doesn't have great aim.

Teehee until its "you got a fuckin' problem with my man?" Ok toy chihuahua you can keep him!

[halflitpages]

mirren sinclair i miss you

[mongoosemagazine]

The Lake Incident (Jack Abbot x Reader)

CW: Sexual coarcion (Dickhead boyfriend), Abuse, Longing jack, Rabbot if you squint, Alcohol, manipulation, Biting (not in a fun way), Angry jack, fighting

AN: Trying to cure writers block with exposure, not proofread <3 Stay safe and protect yourself

Inspired by my fav mutual's brain dump here (SHOW @lunarayletters SOME LOVE!)

At first you had brushed off the lake house as another step in Robby’s midlife crisis, at least he had the sense to rent one as an airbnb before fully committing to buying one. You couldn’t hide the excitement when he invited the team away for a weekend WITH a plus one. (attempting to forget about the logistics of how he managed to schedule everything so that the main day and night shift could afford 4 days off). You were basically vibrating as you bounced home to Mickey, grinning from ear to ear.

“Baby- look- a long weekend away!” you perched onto his lap on the gaming chair, his hands moving to caress up and down your waist with a smile, it had been such a tough couple of months for him. He was working so hard to start up his new company, something related to tech and trading. It took up his whole day so you being the upstanding girlfriend you were picked up an extra job as a part time school nurse on the side. It didn’t pay much of anything but you were just lucky Robby had placed the weekend away perfectly so that you wouldn't have to take time off from there too. 

“With all your colleagues?” his hair fell just perfectly over his face, a sweet (if not slightly condescending) smirk on his thin dry lips. “I don’t know sweetheart…” he squeezed your thighs, eyes grazing over you with a dark hunger in his eyes. 

“Listen to me…” you tried to enter his line of vision where it was obviously fixed over your chest “please Mick?” a little squeak escaped you as he leaned in, nipping your neck, stinging lingering with his teeth marks. “Babe I've been working for like 20 hours straight…I’m not in the mood…” your hands pushed at his shoulders as he tightened his grip around your waist. “Babe-”

“If I say yes will you make me feel better…?” your eyes scanned over him, the hours of pure labor leaving you feel like a deflated carwashing advertisement machine. You silently nodded, it was just a simple fact of life now. You came home from one of your jobs, found him around the house, he’d talk his way into your pants and then leave you sticky in the sheets in search of his laptop to keep working. Sometimes he even made you get him food if he was particularly mentally exhausted. 

—----------

“Are you coming on the lake trip?” Jack questioned as you gripped your tablet in between your hand and the crook of your elbow, hangnails plucked bare and bloody aching and throbbing. 

“Uh yeah…” you forced a fake smile, the two attendings in front of you sharing a quick glance of confusion as you gave them pretty much nothing to work with. 

“Well I need to find out who's bringing plus ones for the rooms so- are you?” Robby awkwardly broached the subject, trying his best to discretely be the best wingman possible. 

“Yeah…i’m bringing my boyfriend…” you recited, eyes darting around the screen to memorise the details of the case you were about to walk into. “His name is Micheal too actually but he goes by Mickey-” you smiled slightly as you brought him up, eyes snagging on the men's slightly disappointed? Expressions. “I mean if thats okay- it’s okay i just-”

“No thats- it’s fine dont worry about it-” Robby patted your back and sent you on the way to your case, still with that unreadable expression on his face.

—-------------

“Babe?” you called out into Mickey’s home office from your shared bedroom, your hands tangled up in different swimsuit and bikini options (which you didn’t know were appropriate given you’d be tits out in front of your bosses). “I need help choosing what to pack- and you need to pack your bag!” 

“God woman you nag me.” Mickey stomped into the room like a petulant teenager, hands once again all over you as you huffed. “You should try them all on and show me…” his tongue moved up your neck, a wave of guilt washing over you once more. 

“I’m not-” “In the mood i know- you never fucking are anymore…” Mick bit down on your neck, a whimper escaping as he pulled away. 

“That was hard babe-” you hand soothed over the bitemark, your intuition telling you it was already probably forming a bruise. He’d been doing that more recently, biting harder, especially when he wasn’t happy with you turning him down. That of course being when he wasn’t able to get you into bed anyhow. Your jaw and brain was starting to ache with the amount of orgasms you’d had to fake in the last month. 

“Why do you wanna pack these anyway?” he held up a random pink triangle bikini top, flopping onto the bed with groan eyes moving over the flimsy piece of fabric. “Isnt everyone like in their 40s and they’ve got like mom and dad bods?” The disgust on his face sent a pang through you, hand shifting to conceal the slight pouch your uterus produced. 

“Um…I wanted to feel pretty?” you sheepishly admitted, hoping for sympathy or even (however pathetic it may be) a compliment. Instead you were greeted by a loud snort, the man who was supposed to love you inside and out was laughing at your body. “Mickey, that's not funny.” you threw a pair of balled up socks at him.

“You’re that desperate for attention? You want to feel pretty in front of a group of fucking pensioners?” you swore there was a tear forming in the corner of his eye from laughter “fuck- pack the one piece, its not like anyones gonna be looking at you anyway.” he rose from the bed, pulling out random clothes from his wardrobe and throwing them into the suitcase without thinking about his words or lingering on the way you held your body. “Babe…” he kissed the crown of your head, “I'm just trying to save you from embarrassing yourself…” his pointer finger went under your chin forcing you up into a kiss, laying you back onto the bed.

—-------

The lake was something out of a 2000s teen movie, a glorious house with a dock overlooking the water, the place was fucking huge which you supposed did make sense given the amount of people that would be staying for the weekend. You grinned as the sun filtered through the dashboard, warming your knuckles which gripped the steering wheel at ten and two. 

You pulled up to where all the other cars were parked up, stepping out and moving to the trunk to pull out the suitcases, greeting the others who were already acclimated up on the porch. You were late thanks to Mickey keeping you in bed far longer than you had planned, additionally leaving marks all up and down your neck and chest. There goes swimming…

The turtleneck itched and scratched, suffocating Robby sprinted down to you to help with the bags “so happy you came-” he was cut off by a loud splash, your eyes moved to the water seeing Mickey already soaked in the soothing lake while you and robby struggled to drag the bags inside. “You’ve got uh…quite the boyfriend there…” he tried his very best to sound sincere but it evidently wasn't his strong suit. 

“You can take the boy out of the frat but you can’t take the frat out of the boy” you tugged at the neckline of the shirt.

“It’s hot out here, you should change.” Jack declared as he stood in the doorway “your boyfriend has introduced himself to the beers already by the way.”

Robby scoffed out a laugh “That has to be a new record.” 

The men's eyes witnessed as your shoulders dropped, the idea of Mickey who was already way up on your nerves being drunk? Yeah no. This trip away was quickly becoming nannying your very adult boyfriend. The men watched as you rushed outside the doors, Jack's eyes tracking you as you scurried out to the porch, trying to take the beer from Mickey in as playful of a way as possible when he pulled you into a messy kiss. Dana and Mckay jokingly cheer from their tanning beds while Victoria, King, Samira and Frank all awkwardly avert their gazes.

“Looks like someone's got a crush” Michael slung his arm around Jack's shoulder staring at you and Mickey through the glass panelled doors. 

“That obvious?” Jack groaned, his hand dragging down his face. 

“You just asked her to take her shirt off” Robby chuckled, moving to face him with his back placed against the adjacent wall. 

“I’m rusty…” Jack huffed, he had been out of the game for 15 years since his late wife passed, he’d had a hookup here or there but the toll of the last 5 years on his mental health had basically killed any reality of a functional relationship. “I just don’t understand what she sees in him…”

“You’re in deep shit…” 

“I am not this- this is a harmless crush- calling it a crush seems juvenile we are grown adults”

“Whatever you need to help you sleep at night- hey maybe i should put you in the room next to the loverbirds- some exposure therapy.”

“This is why no one will marry you”

“I don’t need anyone to marry me- WE are going old and grey together and that's not up for negotiation.” Robby nudged Jack with his elbow, a weathered grin on his lips. “Look…” he sighed “I don’t see them lasting a long time and…” 

Jack's eyes fixed on every movement, your laugh (not quite the real one, the one you would let people see), the way the sun caught perfectly on your skin. Utterly transfixed, it was the best term he could use for his feelings for you. From the moment he laid eyes on you, watching your competence in the ED, the way you held yourself, it stole the breath from his lungs and the oxygen from his blood. If you were a vampire he was your more than willing disciple. “I wanna show her she deserves more than him…” 

……

The campfire sizzled and popped, alcohol and its warmth burning up your cheeks, the heavy arm of your boyfriend weighing you down. His pruned hands gripped at your waist, spilling beer over your skirt as the conversation roared, Mickey’s voice echoed and bounced on the lake water. 

“How did you two meet?” Cassie cupped her sprite between her hands, twirling the straw with her pinky. The full group turned, eyes baring down over your curled body language. 

“Oh um…” your eyes furrowed together, hand clenching around the red solo cup in your palm. 

“A frat party!” Mickey cheered with a grin, mind rolling back to one of the worst nights of your lives. “Fuck she was so fucking drunk-” your eyes bore into the flames trying to separate yourself, “she had this boyfriend- and he was just like boring- so i got him to like breakup with her...” the group stayed quiet as you pretended you were anywhere but here usually just tuning out Mickey when he got like this. “So he dumped her and I was the shoulder to cry on!” He leaned to Frank expecting a fist bump but was instead met with a cold look. 

“What?” your head tilted up, you had never heard this version of the story before. The guy you’d been dating was so sweet, which is what made finding him making out with some girl (whose name ended with Leigh) so fucking devestating. His laughs peetered out as he awkwardly played with the fabric of your shorts.  Your head snapped up looking around at everyone's pity filled glances. “I’m…I’m going to bed…”

It was hours later when Mickey walked in, the smell of beer thick on his breath as he attempted to snuggle into bed next to you, pushing in when suddenly-

“Stop it” you snapped, actually snapped. Mickey was never used to hearing no. and for a very long time you simply allowed it because you feared losing him like you had your ex, of being too much of a prude. 

“C’mon babe-” He whined pathetically, pawing at your PJs as you pushed him away.

“Please stop- mickey-” you pushed voice raising as you kicked at his legs which tried to restrict you. “STOP!” 

The door slammed off the wall, Robby stood in the doorway, glaring down at the bed and the position Mickey had put you in. “You’re done. Pack you shit- right now-” You scurried up, moving to throw your toiletries in a backpack when Robby blocked your body. “Not you- you’re staying…he’s leaving-”

“He’s drunk he doesn't have a car- i have to drive him-”

Robby shielded you as he recognised Jacks familiar gait moving towards your room on the mo“I got him an Uber-”

“What the fuck is going on here-”  Jack’s eyes skimmed over your neck, seeing the bites of his saliva souring. He strode over to the bed, ripping him from the sheets by the collar of his polo. Mickey sobering up with fear, the moonlight catching on the veins bulging in Jack's arms. “Get the fuck up now-” he growled as Mickey fumbled with his things, shoving them into a dufflebag. 

You stood under Robby’s arm as Jack kicked Mickey out of the room following him out the Uber, slower than he wanted to be but just as intimidating. “Give me your phone…” Robby hummed, the sleep still present in your mind conceded, handing it to him as he systematically blocked Mickey on every platform. “It’s done…it’s done okay….” Robby's hand rubbed up and down your back as Jack returned, having offloaded Mickey with the intimidating talk of the century. 

“Are you okay?” he climbed the porch steps, his big eyes locking onto you as cries finally broke through. You fell down into his arms with a helpless whimper, it was pathetic from the outside, needing to be saved by your bosses, the idea of having nowhere to go home to, not knowing what was going to happen with your things. Reckoning with the fact you needed to be saved. 

The next day passed sluggishly, stuck in bed, trying to cover up the reminders of Mickey’s corrections on your neck. There was an occasional knock on the door, Robby or Jack usually, dropping off food from the barbeque. 

In the early hours of the morning you stepped out of the front door, sitting down at the edge of the lake, letting water just kiss your feet as you embraced the cold air sending goosebumps over your skin. 

Fabric came down on your shoulder, grunts and groans, the sound of scuffling dirt and sand reaching your ears as crutches clinked placing them on the floor. Jack, the smell of campfire and spruce filling your nostrils as he leaned back on his palms placed behind him. “I’m sorry…for last night…I was angry and…it was completely inappropriate.”

“He blocked me…” you threw a stone across the river watching it skip and ripple in the moonlight. “He actually blocked me he said- he put my things in storage and that I could pick it up when we got back…and then he blocked me…” you hiccuped, dirty hands swiping away the tears before reaching for the fabric. “What's this…”

“One of my hoodies…it’s cold out here…” He sighed, silver hair bathing in the moonlight. Watching as you tugged the hoodie over your body, Jack reached over carefully, wrinkles making themself known as he meticulously straightened it out. “It looks good on you…”

“How do you do that?” you mumbled pulling the neckline up to your chin, tucking your legs under the fabric and up to your chest. “Compliment me like that…?”

“It’s easy….you’re smart…beautiful…kind-” he was cut off by your chuckle, his eyes hardening, thinking you didn’t believe his words. 

You calmed, eyes moving away from the water in favor of his face “Sorry…just the first thing you said was that I was smart-” an unexpected frog jumped into your throat.

“Cause you are…” His hand moved to your face, wiping away an eyelash with his thumb, smiling and placing it in front of your face, “make a wish…”

“You’re such a boy” the childish wave cast off the man, he was a puzzle you had not managed to solve, a knot you could not unfurl. At times he was one of the most serious men you’d ever met, pulling your boyfriend out of bed by the scruff of his neck because he hurt you then asking you to make a wish like this. Time may have aged him but the boyish wonder never left his features. 

“A boy who is asking you to make a wish?” he smirked “fuck I havent been called a boy in decades…probably since before you were born” His eyes slowly admired your features. Your cheeks burned at that, you’d spent years wrapped up in the arms of an actual boy, one that was cemented in his college peak. And now an older man, a man who could be your father was paying full attention to him. 

He watched the tear dry down your cheek, his thumb returning to erase it “don’t cry over him…you shouldn’t cry over him he never deserved you…” he moved closer to you. 

“I’m crying because i’m fucking homeless-” you gasped, frustrated by the situation. The devil on your shoulder stared over at you, pushing your weary head down into the man’s palm, revelling in his warmth. “Stop looking at me like that…”

“Come live with me…” he grinned, rubbing his thumb along your tear streaked cheekbone. “Until you get back onto your feet…I can’t have one of my best residents living out of her car…” his voice was soft in the way it was when he walked you through procedures, bodies pressing into each other, warm breath on the shell of your ear. 

“I can’t ask that of you…” the sound of the crickets and animals thickened the silence between you, feeling the obligation to whisper as not to defile the beauty of the moment. 

“You didn’t ask…” he leaned in carefully, hesitating, staring into your eyes. “Let me look after you-”

Your lips crashed into his, tears flooding from your eyes, messily gripping to him as your lifeboat. A sigh of relief escaped him as his hands came around your waist, brows furrowing from the intensity. You exhaled shakily, his mouth moving away from yours as you smiled down at him, admiring the maturity of his face. “I’d do anything you told me to do right now-” Jack grinned like a happy german shepard.

“Kiss me again?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Taglist: @imstressed17, @phantomtea19, @sous-les-sakura-blog, @pastorquack, @miraclesabound, @madi-reads-things, @lilmisslexapro, @geek-trying-to-breath, @seph8 , @lovvrr , @angelamariaxo, @bluelineandpitlanearchive, @sleepylunarwolf, @isthatachickennn, @hexsnare@perksofbeingatrex, @ilocuras24, @momdancingtomcr, @emma8895eb, @babyspiceeeeeeee, @mevlliflous, @lilyxxox

[bees-library3]

Too Close for Comfort

Pairing: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Summary: A pregnancy complication rattles both of you, and Robby has to come to terms with how much you mean to him.

Warnings/Tags: light angst, fainting, arguing, accidental pregnancy, unspecified age gap, boss!robby, resident!reader, baby daddy!robby, day shift crew is there, Dana is a baddie, possible medical inaccuracies (I’m not a doctor), female reader (she/her), no use of y/n

Word count: 2.6k words (the longest chapter so far)

A/N: Robby is a dick in this, but it’s not directed towards the reader. Even though he’s an asshole to Langdon, I’m a Langdon lover lmao. Trust that this does not reflect my feelings about him. I had a great time writing some angst for this series, but it is relatively light. There will be a chapter with much heavier angst coming up. I apologize in advance.

Previous Part | Unexpected Series | Next Part (coming soon)

It was a rare occasion when both you and Robby had the day off. Since the man doesn’t know to relax, the two of you were doing laundry. He was folding his own clothes while you did yours. The two of you worked in silence before Robby spoke up. You’d been so focused on your task that you hadn’t seen him staring at you.

“You doing okay, sweetheart? You’re looking a little tired.”

Naturally, you took that negatively, and you raised an eyebrow. You adjusted to get comfortable on the couch and sighed softly. Not that you wanted to admit it, but you’d been feeling drained lately. That came with being twenty-eight weeks pregnant, though.

“Just haven’t slept great. Still adjusting to the night shift.”

“Hey, that wasn’t a dig. I was just checking on you.”

You weren’t intentionally being standoffish; you were just exhausted, and the emotional fatigue was getting to you. You and Robby were in this constant state of push and pull. One minute, he looked like he wanted to mount you, and the next he was avoiding any “unnecessary” conversations. It was impossible to figure him out. You didn’t dare complain, though. Exhaling slowly, one of your hands rested on your baby bump, and you apologized.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I feel like my soul has been ripped from me. Growing a human is fucking exhausting.”

The raw fatigue in your voice made Robby’s chest ache, and he wanted to help. He wasn’t sure what all he was allowed to do, but he could encourage you to rest. Reaching over, he gently squeezed your hand and nodded towards your bedroom.

“Go back to bed and take a nap. When you wake up, I’ll bring you dinner.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I can finish the laundry.”

You contemplated his offer for a moment and considered being stubborn. It wasn’t a bad idea, though. There was no question that you needed the extra sleep. After some deliberation, you nodded and squeezed Robby’s hand back.

“Alright. Thank you.”

“Of course. Rest up.”

Robby watched as you lifted yourself from the couch. You took two steps before you swayed, and your body crumpled forward. Thankfully, you’d somehow landed on your side, but you were still unconscious. He leapt from his seat and rushed over to you. His fingers instantly pressed against the side of your neck, and he let out a breath of relief when he felt your pulse. It was thready and too slow for his liking, but it was there.

He didn’t even realize that his hands were shaking. Robby’s priority was waking you up. He gently patted your cheek and spoke frantically. He’d seen syncope hundreds of times in the ER, but this was you - the mother of his child.

“Sweetheart, c’mon, wake up for me.”

To his dismay, you weren’t rousing. Robby let out a low curse and grabbed his phone. The last thing that you’d want is to go to the hospital, but he wasn’t going to take any risks when it came to you or your daughter. While he explained the situation to the 911 operator, his hand rested on your belly and counted the seconds before the baby kicked again. It took almost a whole minute, but he was overwhelmed with relief.

The operator informed him that the EMTs were five minutes out, and he ended the call. Robby brushed some hair from your face and tried again to wake you.

“C’mon, baby. I’ve got you.”

His voice was oozing with desperation, and Robby could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The possible complications that you could be experiencing made him feel sick. He hated seeing you struggling. Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed your small gasp and the fluttering of your eyelids. You were about to move when Robby’s strong hands gently held you in place. He was less panicked when he spoke again.

“Don’t move just yet. You fainted, but you took a while to come around. I had to call for an ambulance, and they’ll be here any second.”

At the mention of an ambulance, your eyes shot open, and you stared up at Robby. His face was slightly scrunched with worry, and you hated it. Despite working inside a hospital, you hated being a patient. You weakly shook your head and attempted to plead with him.

“No, no, no. No hospitals, please.”

You sounded terrified, and it broke Robby’s heart. He wasn’t going to give in, though. You needed to receive the proper testing and care to get to the bottom of this. In an attempt to soothe you, he ran a hand through your hair. The closer you got to your due date, the more physically affectionate Robby allowed himself to be. Neither of you permitted yourselves to dwell on that.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You need to be seen. You’re a doctor; you know the tests that need to be run. Do it for the baby.”

The last part sounded like he was guilting you into going, and that added to your frustration. You pushed his hand away and went to sit up again. Despite your objections, Robby helped pull you into a sitting position and propped your back against the couch. Your hand immediately went to your belly, and he could see the way the baby’s soft kicking reassured you. He was about to speak again when the paramedics knocked on the door.

Getting your stubborn ass into the ambulance had been quite the battle, and Robby kept apologizing to the EMTs. They were used to it, though. Doctors made the worst patients. It wasn’t like you were being rude, just obstinate. The ride was mostly silent because you refused to speak to your baby daddy. To add to your anger, Robby would only allow you to be seen by your fellow staff at the PTMC. He didn’t trust the other hospitals to properly care for you.

He wanted to hold your hand, but the two of you weren’t physical at work. Not to mention, you were still angry with him. Robby was going to ruminate on the way you’d rejected his touch for days to come. He was still thinking about it when the ambulance doors opened, and it was time to go.

Being wheeled into your place of work felt absolutely mortifying. You knew it wasn’t a big deal. Most of your coworkers had to be treated in the ED at least once in their careers. That didn’t make the situation any less embarrassing, though. Robby trailed behind your gurney as you were brought inside. You were trying to avoid any prying eyes, but you looked over when Dana called your name. She rushed over to Robby and waved in your direction.

“What happened to our girl?”

Running a tired hand over his face, Robby exhaled heavily and tried to focus on Dana’s question. All he wanted was to talk to you, but you weren’t meeting his eye. He sounded drained when he answered her.

“She passed out after getting off the couch.”

“And the baby?”

“Oh, baby girl is fine. They’re both stable. She just took a minute to come to.”

You weren’t a huge fan of the way the conversation was happening around you, so you broke your silence.

“Robby’s being a little dramatic. Pregnant people faint sometimes.”

“You’re not just any pregnant person.”

Of course, Robby had to say that. Your head was already swimming with mixed emotions, and now he had to be sweet. It was juvenile, but you held onto your irritation. You huffed and rolled your eyes. He ignored it and redirected his attention to Dana.

“I want to get a CBC done. She already had an ECG in the rig, and it was normal.”

“Robby, you can’t treat family. You know that.”

“We’re not—"

Robby abruptly cut himself off when he realized the truth in Dana’s statement. The two of you may not be together, but you are family. You were carrying his daughter. He looked dumbfounded, and it made Dana smirk. You were too busy reeling from those words to find any amusement in Robby’s reaction. He floundered for a second before choking out a question.

“Who—who's going to treat her?”

That’s when Langdon appeared, and the tension in the room doubled. God, this was the last thing either you or Robby needed. You loved working with Frank, but Robby still held resentment towards him after he learned about the young resident stealing drugs from the hospital. His mere presence set your boss off.

“No fucking way. He’s not touching her. Not after what he did.”

Frank was about to speak when you cut him off, and the annoyance in your voice was jarring. You were pregnant, stressed out, and over Robby’s shit. Now, it was not the time for him to be acting like this, and you were pissed.

“Robby! Take a fucking walk.”

You’d never raised your voice at Robby like that before, so his brain momentarily short-circuited. He was still too amped up to realize that he was being an asshole, and he wasn’t about to admit that he was wrong. Instead, he turned on his heel and stormed out. You threw your hands up and let Dana go after him.

Robby didn’t want to be too far from your room, so he’d angrily planted himself by the nurses’ station. Dana soon joined him. He huffed softly when he saw her walk over, and he prepared himself for a lecture. Her tone was slightly bewildered when she addressed him.

“The hell was that, Robby?”

“I-I don’t want him treating her or my baby.”

That was petty, and Robby knew that. He just didn’t care. Dana shook her head in exasperation and laughed incredulously. Her friend and colleague was acting like a child. She wasn’t about to let him continue this behavior.

“Langdon is a competent physician, and he was a good friend of yours. You should be thankful that your girl is being taken care of.”

He wanted to grumble and argue that you weren’t actually his girl, but that was pointless. The adrenaline from watching you hit the living room floor was slowly leaving Robby, and he was wiped. He sighed and mumbled back.

“I don’t trust him anymore.”

“I know, but he has paid his dues. Langdon is the one in charge of her care, and you need to accept that. Would you rather her be passed off to one of the med students?”

While Robby didn’t trust Frank, he was much more capable than this year’s med students. If this debacle had occurred a year ago, Langdon would’ve been the doctor that Robby requested. That was before the shift from hell. Dana was right, though. He needed to accept this.

Before he made it back to your room, Dana pulled him aside one last time and made sure that she was getting through to him.

“Robby, you need to focus on her and the baby. That’s your priority.”

“It always has been.”

He didn’t realize it, but he was close enough to your door that you’d heard that. Those simple words sent you spiraling. Where the hell did you stand with this man?

With a pat on the back from Dana, Robby steeled himself to face you and entered the exam room. Frank was already onto the next patient and you were receiving IV fluids. You looked smaller in the hospital bed, and it made something in him squeeze uncomfortably. Usually, you were loud and full of sass. He sat in the chair beside your bed and cleared his throat. An apology was long overdue.

“I’m sorry. I was being an ass.”

That wasn’t good enough, and Robby could see it on your face. Why should you be satisfied with a carbon copy of the apology he was always making? He shifted uneasily in his seat and braced himself to be more vulnerable. His voice was uncharacteristically strained when he spoke again.

“Seeing you hit the floor like that scared the fuck out of me, sweetheart. All I could think about was something horrible happening to you and the baby. I-I don’t know what to do with that fear, and it usually comes across as anger. That’s not an excuse, though.”

Shocked that Robby had not only admitted that he was in the wrong but had also confessed to being afraid, your blinked up at him. Who was this man, and what had he done with your boss? Well, he hadn’t actually been your boss since you switched to the night shift a few weeks ago. It was just hard to shake that air of authority. You sat there for a second before responding.

“Thank you. I know that it’s hard for you to talk about those things.”

Hearing you acknowledge that it was difficult for him to express those feelings, his eyes stung with tears and he blinked hard. One escaped and rolled down his cheek. You were about to wipe it when Langdon came into the room. Robby immediately pulled it together and used his shoulder to swipe away that pesky tear. The other man was about to apologize for interrupting when Robby cut him off.

“You ran a CBC, right? Are her results back?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Wanting to ensure that you were included in your medical care, Frank turned to you and pulled up the chart. You were also a doctor, so he passed you the tablet that displayed your lab results. He still took the time to verbally explain the results.

“As you can see, your thyroid is normal. I know you were concerned about that. Your hemoglobin and hematocrit, however, are pretty low. With a hemoglobin of 9.9 g/dL, that would classify as moderate pregnancy anemia. That’s why you passed out.”

These weren’t the results that you were hoping for, but it was reassuring that your thyroid was normal. Your mother had issues with her thyroid, so you were always conscious of yours. You were still processing the results when Robby spoke up. Of course, he had questions.

“What was her serum ferritin?”

“It was 29 ng/ml. It’s a little lower than we’d like, but nothing dangerous. She definitely has an iron deficiency.”

“What’s your treatment plan?”

It was hard to tell if Robby was quizzing Frank from the standpoint of a mentor or if he was just being an ass again. You rolled your eyes and kept reviewing your own chart. Your fellow resident took the questions in stride and answered calmly.

“I’m going to prescribe her an iron supplement, recommend that she take it with vitamin C, and add some more spinach and red meat to her diet. Probably best that she reduces her Taki intake.”

The way that Langdon said that like it was some inside joke between the three of you made Robby want to groan. He resisted the urge for your sake. Biting back a scoff, he readjusted in his chair and turned in your direction. His voice was noticeably softer when he spoke to you.

“You got all that?”

“Robby, I am also a physician. I could’ve come up with that plan myself.”

Amused by your attitude, Robby laughed softly and shook his head. It was good to see that you felt up to teasing him. He checked the clock and turned back to Langdon. All he wanted was to get you home and resting in your own bed.

“When will she be discharged?”

“I’ll sign the papers right now.”

A few minutes later, the discharge papers were signed, and you were ready to go. To your annoyance, Robby insisted on wheeling you out to the parking lot where Jack was waiting to pick you guys up. Judging by the look on his best friend’s face, Robby was going to have quite the debrief once you were in bed.

The Pitt: @n3ssm0nique @literal-tv-menace @death-in-a-tar0t-card @stayonmars @catmomstyles3 @marvelcasey05 @shashasimba1996 @superbcrusadedreamer @acdassenza @deardani68 @madi-reads-things @anxiousankylosaurus @li22ie2017 @sarahhxx03 @tinytownn @xoxabs88xox @my-whole-brain-is-crying @cartersettingthetone @tinytownn

[sugartalkingwrites]

MDNI 18+

mmmm thinking (i'm always thinking) about pope cody x virgin!reader

having grown up next door to the cody's, it was hard not to get caught up in their whirlpool of chaos. deran had become a close friend, constantly helping him with homework he'd get too far behind on. you weren't a wild child like the rest of the cody's, too afraid of a little rebellion. the closest you had ever gotten to that was when you had a gotten a little too drunk at smurf's and deran had to sneak you back into your room. you had lied that your hangover was just a bad stomach flu.

deran did his best to keep you at an arms length away from the corruption that came with being around the cody's, he just never knew pope was doing the same. pope was there every time without you fully being aware, like a cattle dog protecting a little lamb. that's how he saw you, an innocent pretty little thing. you shouldn't have been around all of this but he could only do so much. scaring off guys who tried to prey on you when you had a little too much to drink or really any guy who thought they stood a chance at making you their's. no man was good enough for his little lamb, he knew that also meant him too.

when pope was released from prison, he was relieved to be home but anxious if you'd still be around. there was no fathomable reason why you'd ever want to see him, a felon– yet, there you were in the living room with a drink in your hand, tiny denim shorts and a crop tee shirt. everything was the same as before, nothing had changed for you. you constantly sought after his attention, the only person who made you feel seen and accepted you just as is. a few months after he was out of prison you had drunkenly wondered into his room while the party was raging. you'd missed him, having him gone in those years felt lonely and felt like your security blanket was gone, your heart growing even softer for him in these times.

admitting you had a crush on him was near impossible, craig would blow you off as crazy and deran would've forbade it. when you ended up in popes room fidgeting with your hands in your tipsy state, the tightness in the little butter yellow dress felt suffocating as you choked up the words to ask pope for the one thing you never could've asked sober.

"andrew... c-can i ask you something and you won't laugh at me if you think m'stupid?" you looked up at him glass eyed and biting your lip, leaning against his closed bedroom door. he looked up from the beer he had been nursing.

"you're not stupid, don't call yourself that... s'not nice... but, go ahead, angel."

"if i asked you to be my first... would you?"

he's frozen in place, he hasn't always been the best at social cues but there was no way you could've seriously asked him that.

"first... first what, angel?"

"please don't make me say it, andrew." you whined so sweetly he was desperate to hear it now. he stalked over to you, back pressed to the wall and hands fidgeting behind you. he pick up your chin tilting your face up at him.

you weren't sober but you weren't completely drunk, he could tell the difference. you always held his eye contact a little better when you were tipsy, the liquid courage made it easier to let your mind wander to dirty places hoping that if you could look at him like this, he could feel how badly you wanted him, needed him. as you looked up at him, biting your lip, glassy eyes and lips tinted ever so slightly from lip gloss you had put on earlier, he could feel the shift.

"tell me what you want," his voice is gruff as he gripped the back your neck and his free hand fell to your waist. thumb rubbing circles over your hip that made you clench your thighs together, it made you putty in his hands.

"i-i want you to be first time... m-my first kiss a-and i wanna lose my virginity to you, andy." he practically growls as you look up at him pleadingly, his grip on you has only grown tighter.

he had figured in all this he had been away that someone else had been lucky enough to be given a chance with you. a part of his chest ached at the idea that you waited for him. he's leaning his forehead against yours and pressing himself into you, letting you feel every inch of him.

"you want me to be your first, angel? were you saving yourself for me?" his hands on your hips as he drags his lips against your neck feeling the way your squirming in his grip knowing now that no one else has gotten to touch you like this.

your trembling whimper and whispered 'yes' is enough to let him cave in his desires now. he kisses you so gently at first, letting you find your bearings until your lips are moving in sync with his. he lets his tongue slip into your mouth, eating up every whimper and pathetic whine that escapes when he squeezes your waist. he couldn't bring himself to fully take your virginity that night, he wanted you completely sober for that. instead he opted to learning every inch of your body that made you gasp and whine, how soft or rough you liked his touch, how you chased after his lips when he pulled away. he especially enjoyed the way you clawed at his shoulders when he ever so gently groped your chest.

whines and pleas of his name fell from your lips as his dragged across every inch of skin that was exposed in that dress, his hands trailed under, squeezing and groping at your thighs. you were so worked up and desperate for him, he couldn't stand the thought of leaving you so tightly wound he had to help his little lamb. you had no clue how desperate he wanted to ruin you, so that no man's touch would ever be enough. he wouldn't give you his cock that night but he gave you his mouth and fingers instead. he pulled that dress over your hips, laying you out on his bed before diving face first between your legs.

thighs wrapped around his head as he greedily lapped at your soaked panties. he looked up at you with those sweet hazel puppy eyes as he held your thighs apart, sucking at the outline of your pussy clad in the cotton panties. dragging his tongue up and down as he rut his restrained cock into his own mattress. when he finally pushed you panties to the side, the sweet cries of his name, the taste of you and the way you tugged at his hair had him ruining his boxers but he couldn't care less about the mess. at that moment, he had gone to heaven. he'd spend the next hour between your legs making you a whimpering, trembling mess as the wet squelch of every kiss he placed on your pussy grew tenfold, his fingers curled inside the velvety walls over and over again until he lost count of how many times you had drenched his face.

voice nearly broken as you squeaked 'andrew!' at the last organs he brought you too while sucking your clit into his mouth, finally relenting in the endless pleasured he'd brought to you in just one night.

[whimsywheeelah]

these two images are sisters to me

[bbuuunnyyy]

early in the morning, waking up in pope cody’s arms, feeling his morning wood pressing into your back. you turn around to paw at his boxers, causing him to whine in his sleep, moving onto his back. you sling your leg across his hip, straddling him, taking out his cock to slowly sit down on it, waking him up with a sleepy moan. fucking him so good—his hands lazily grip your waist, letting out sweet whimpers as you both watch the way your pussy swallows him with hooded eyes. ♡

[mcthsman]

thinking about pope with a newborn and how scared he'd be of accidentally hurting them, they just seem so fragile that he's scared to burp them to hard or that he's gonna drop them. You have to reassure him time and time again that he won't accidentally hurt them

yupppp oh my god!!! i feel like pope has some experience with babies (since he delivered his own brother i think he probably took care of him too) but this just feels different?? the baby is so much tinier than deran was and it's his and yours and he never thought he'd ever get to have this (baz certainly made it seem like he never would). he'd hold the baby with trembling fingers and always wash + sanitize his hands before coming close and it's always such a reverent moment when he tucks his baby — his baby — against the crook of his shoulder. you're the only mom in the world that gets to sleep through the night with a new born because pope doesn't ever sleep anymore; he sits next to the crib all night long and stares, making sure the baby isn't going to choke on the blankies and he frowns at the plushies you put inside the crib — they're unhygienic and a choking risk, in pope's opinion — but the baby is learning how to grab things and only settles when the bear plushie is within reach so pope accepts it with a twist of his mouth and enough disinfectant to keep the toys as clean as he can. and his love for you changes, too, but it only intensifies: he can’t believe you made such a perfect little creature, a mixture of your smile and pope’s curls, and the fact that you are the reason pope gets to be a dad is something he can never put into words. so he puts into action: he’s always on top of the house chores, always making sure to buy the brands you like when grocery shopping, vacuuming whenever you’re out with the baby so the loud noise doesn’t become a problem and running you a bath as soon as the baby is down for the night. he touches you with the same reverence as he does the kid, his puppy dog eyes staring at you with wonder, getting truly, genuinely upset whenever you make a depreciative remark about the changes your body has gone through.  he loves you, and he loves your baby, and for the first time ever, he loves his life. 

[snarkoposts]

pope cody x party girl reader

✦ pope loves that his girl is the life of the party, drawing the attention of every person in every room you walk into, but he gets more than a little pissed off when guys leer at you as you’re dancing away unaware, drink in hand. he stands away from the crowd but always within a few feet of you, his jaw clenched tight enough to make his teeth hurt, his arms folded across his chest ready to fight any one of those creeps who dares to get too close to you.

✦ between knocking back shots with craig and trying to get deran to dance with you (unsuccessfully) you turn to look for your boyfriend, smiling sweetly when you realise he’s right behind you - not that he’s ever far from your side. the softness in the look that you give him does something funny to his chest and he knows he’d deal with a million of these loud gatherings that his family insist on (and the cleanup afterwards) just to see his pretty girl having fun.

✦ at the end of the night he drags you away when your words begin to slur and your steps unsteady, indicating that you’ve had enough. the corner of his mouth lifts at your whines and protests at being ushered away from the party. if you refuse to leave, sparing a longing glance towards the table of shots that you definitely don’t need, he’ll simply pick you up, throwing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing or carrying you bridal style to his room, shutting out the rest of the world so it’s finally just the two of you, the music of the party still thumping faintly outside the door.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

author’s note: thanks for reading! this is my first time writing for pope so I kept it pretty short lmk your thoughts :p

[chapbrinas]

nsfw boyfriend calum hood headcanons.

⋆ he can't keep his hands off of you throughout the day. he's constantly looking for excuses to touch you. he'll grab your ass as he walks by, touch your chest, caress your arm, thigh, hip, waist, etc. ⋆ he's open to trying new things with you, especially if it means getting a little rough. you wanna get tied up, gagged, blindfolded, etc? he's your guy. ⋆ calum's really good with his fingers. they're thick, so he likes to stretch you out around them and watch you squirm while you try to take them. ⋆ he makes you beg a lot. he'll tell you it's not good enough, even when it definitely is, just because he loves how it sounds when you're all needy and desperate for him. ⋆ you can never say his name too much. in fact, he tells you when to say it more. "say my name, baby," he tells you allll the time and you happily oblige. ⋆ loves to choke you. whether it's just a little or until you're about to pass out, he gets off on seeing you struggle a little... especially if it's while you're under him, taking his cock. ⋆ ownership. calum likes to leaves marks all over you. he sucks, nips, and bites them all across your skin, everywhere he can. particularly in visible places. he wants to make sure people will see and know that you belong to someone. ⋆ his favorite position is reverse cowgirl. he likes to watch your ass while you ride him and spank it until it's all bruised and sore and you can barely sit the next day. ⋆ he fucks you so good you try to keep quiet by covering your mouth, but he never lets you. he holds your hands down and goes harder, angling his hips just right to make it even more difficult for you to keep it down. he wants to hear you and he will. ⋆ calum has his days where he likes to finish down your throat and make you swallow every drop, suuure, but he's also got his days where he likes to finish on your face and take pictures. something about marking you and humiliating you a little.

[leadmetothegardenbetty]

yeah no I'm sorry but it really was that serious holy fuck

[bbuuunnyyy]

Sorry, but I can't stop thinking about giving it to Pope with a strap, and he's a whiny trembling mess, and you just praise him so much because he's being such a good boy🫠

18+ smut! tw: mommy kink

he’d be such a whiny mess under you, taking it so well, he loves being your good boy. you fuck him slow and deep, watching the way his cock is leaking onto the bed, cooing as you reach your hand down to stroke him, “awwh, andy. that feel good?”

he whines, tears falling from his eyes as he nods his head, fucking into your hand as your hips keep up that slow pace. “what a good boy.” you let go of his cock, grabbing his hips as you fuck into him faster. he’s meeting you half way, pushing his hips back into you moaning strings of, “please—fuck, mommy—shit.”

after hitting that sweet spot in his ass, his hips quiver, cock spurting cum all over the bed sheets. <3333 you pull out, leaning down to grab his chin for a sweet kiss. smirking at him, you murmur, “let mommy clean that up for you,” as you lean down, licking his cum off the bed. <333

horny fairy took over me

[morabbots]

COMMUNITY 1.08 "Home Economics"

[lilaccdaisies]

Walk with me

Pope Cody who has to take housewife!reader in to the ER cause she hurt herself badly in the kitchen when cooking a 'well-done' meal for the Codys' latest job, and there she's treated by Jack Abbot who takes a liking to her extra sweet personality. Pope Cody eyeing this older doc who's smirking and joking with his darling girl. Jack Abbot side eyeing this dodgy character by her side who's glaring and brooding.

Were you walking?

Now rub one out with me: both of them fucking into-

[tabithasgrave]

this is soooooo dennis whitaker x reader