Only getting to watch the new episode now after already hearing about supriya ganesh not returning for season 3 has made me even more enraged.
I am tired of being understanding of robby's mental health because i'm irish catholic i have been on the abusive end of someone who refuses to get help for their mental health. Its fucking awful and it should not be excused in any capicity. Abuse and bullying is just that its not a fucking symptom.
I can except that samira has been set up to move on this whole season thats been clear i can understand that. But its the way she's leaving, with her confidence fucking destroyed by that fucking white man. Like the scene with mohan and javadi were they are both clearly struggling with confidence. Robby clocks it in both of them but only says somthing to javadi. Then in his argument with dana he says he's he's worried about mohan flaming out if he leaves?! Your fucking causing it and have been since season 1.
Dr Samira Mohan is a wonderful, kind, and deeply empathetic doctor and if her story ends with her being broken down by this fucking man with mommy issues. I'm gonna get violent.
Get the fuck out of that emergency department robinavitch and dont come back
thinking about how Jack Abbott fucks. it's all breathless groans, shaken sighs, and deep moans. at one point you're positively sure he whimpered and tried to hide it with a groan.
When Jack gets ready to fuck you his cock slaps his lower tummy, just under his belly button. he's already wet, precum leaking off the tip and pooling around the ridge. he lets you look, salivate, fantasize. Jack gets off on this, ego swollen like your puffy clit he spent an hour fucking and sucking on.
once Jack's slips that nude pink tip past your puffy lips, he pushes in slowly, inch by inch. you're whining and begging him to go faster, telling him how bad you need it and how good you've been, but he doesn't. he ignores your whining, your huffs of impatience, the slight whimpers you let out. eventually he's fully inside, your body already stretching to accommodate him.
when Jack fucks he pulls out almost all the way, until his tip is barely past your lips, before fucking back in all the way with a force that punches the air out your lungs. the first few thrusts are like that. slow, hard, rough. he fucks with passion, like he knows what he's doing and he knows how good it makes you feel. he knows what he's doing, he knows how to make you feel good, make you cum before he does.
Jack's voice is rough and deep in your ear, telling you how "you take dad so well.", and "fuck, you're making your old man so proud, baby." Jack is gross and depraved and god why are you getting wetter? he's a sick fuck, but maybe you are too.
When Jack does finally cum, he flips you onto your tummy, doggy style, before pushing on your upper back to make your arch flush to the bed. he jerks off behind you, cum spurting onto your lower back, the tramp stamp lying there covered in his spend.
Jack Abbott is a mean, mean man. He's a whole lot of man, a lot of baggage, a lot of issues. but fuck the dick is good.
succession is as much about sexual abuse and incestuous abuse as it is business. logan lords over the children in all aspects of their lives, including the sexual, he is invasive because he is surveillance, he is news, he is the world. he goes missing from their childhoods to spend his time aiding and abetting and wining and dining sexual abusers and rapists, who he then brings home to them, because work and family are one, and the home and the office are one. he spends their adulthood covering it up and pawning them off to aid in managing the fallout. roman is sexually perverse and anorexic, shiv is hypersexual and transactional, kendall is infertile and oedipal. there was a dog cage and roman kept wetting the bed because kendall locked him inside and fed him dog food and they both 'enjoyed it' and logan used this or orchestrated this to find the runt and send him away, "you got two fighting dog's you send the weak one away, you punish the weak one". shiv is a daddy's girl and the favourite, in his varying states of delirium she becomes his wives and he drags her hand down to grope him under his clothes. kendall is groomed his entire life and toyed with and discarded over and over in a perverse push and pull of intimacy and violence that logan enacts as business and as sex, because in succession sex and business are interchangable. "sometimes it is a big dick competition."
HEADLOCK: he knows you’re obsessed with his military and ER trained arms, so why not wrap one of them around your neck and choke you while he fucks you? You love it when you feel him soooo deep in you from behind, your back wet and sticky with sweat against his chest, one of his hands on your clit, rubbing dedicated circles and applying just enough pressure to make you go crazy. That with the way he has his big, buffed up arm wrapped around your neck, applying pressure to make you a bit dizzy, feeling everything 10x more intense. You hold and scratch his big muscles until you cum hard, soaking his cock with your juices.
COWGIRL: he loves seeing his girl bouncing up and down on his cock. When his leg hurts, you get to work. Getting on top of him, you center his hard cock to your entrance and push down painfully slow for both of you. You start bouncing faster and harder, holding onto his chest, squeezing his pecks. Meanwhile, he holds onto your ass and helps you bounce, flexing those hard arm muscles. Once in a while you stop with him still inside and grind your clit into his salt and pepper haired base, making you both moan. He loves it when you’ve already come once or twice and have no more energy to bounce, so you lay on his chest while he pounds into you from beneath while you drool on his chest and neck.
EATING YOU OUT: he’s just a starved man that loves to eat his girl out from behind, giving each hole a bit of love. He starts by licking from your clit to your ass hole a bunch of times, leaving you wetter than you were before. Then he continues by giving your clit and holes some love, sucking, biting, tongue fucking, spitting… name it and he’s probably done it to you.
WORDS: 2.2K
SUMMARY: The Cody family finally find Pope after six years, not expecting two kids running out of a house calling him "Dad".
WARNINGS/TAGS: Established Relationship, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Slice of Life, Happy Andrew Cody Family, Kissing, Smut, Intercourse (Gender-neutral), Angst, Mention of a Gun, Shouting, Arguing, Yelling, Crying, Hurt/Comfort
A/N: Might make a part 2 to this one. Also sorry if there are any misspellings or missing words I'm really sleepy. Good luck!
SECOND PART | NEVER THEIRS
THRID PART | ONLY OURS
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
Bouncing the toddler on your hip, stirring the pan on the stove, hearing two screams sound behind you. Glancing at the time, reading '5:27 PM,' setting down the spatula on the cutting board, walking over to the living room.
"You boys better clean up this living room before Daddy gets home," you shout, hearing the patter of two sets of little feet. "Daddy's home?" your four-year-old son asks, stopping just behind your five-year-old son.
"Minutes away, hurry," you say, pointing at the mess of blocks on the rug in front of the TV. Watching them quickly put them away, just as Andrew taught them both. Walking back into the kitchen, turning down the heat, dinner already being done. Checking the boy's work, knowing your husband would look for anything amiss when settling down after dinner.
Marrying Andrew only a year after meeting, proposing to you after telling him you're pregnant. Thankful for the day a booked restaurant sat you across from him to allow more people in the door. Talking over a good dinner, finding out you were both traveling, seeking something in your lives on the open road. Still, after all these years, he left this past vague, seeing the hurt on his face on the topic of his family, never pushing past his robbery charge.
Hearing the familiar pairs of tires come up the driveway, the boys spring into action, following right behind them. "Daddy!" Your five-year-old yells, squishing his red-haired head into Andrew's side, leaving enough room for your other son to give him a hug.
"You two been good today?" he asks, ruffling their hair, earning pitched giggling. "Yes," they say in sync. "Good," he praises, looking to you with a smile before picking up the smaller of the two.
"Me too," your other son says, jumping up and down. Hearing Andrew groan while picking him up, finally walking over to you. Giving your lips a warm kiss, hearing the boys protest, making you both smile.
Breaking the kiss, allowing him to give a peck to the little girl on your hip. Both making your way inside, hearing the boys start to boast about their day, setting your daughter into her high chair, picking up the rubber bib, snapping the clasp into place. Walking over to the stove, turning up the heat before going to grab the plates, interrupted by Andrew's body, already grabbing them.
"Sorry, you gonna be faster than that," he teases, pulling down the ceramic plates, handing them to you with a smile. "Thank you," you say, turning away, feeling a pair of arms wrap around you.
Smiling, grabbing something to serve dinner with. Kissing the skin of your neck, reaching up to your ear, giving it small nibbles. Shoulder curling up, hearing him laugh sweetly in your ear, causing warmth to flow throughout your body.
"Andrew, I'm trying to serve dinner," you beg, receiving only a hum. "How was work?" you ask, trying to distract the man's lips. "Nothing new, only more cars to fix up," he replies, placing his lips right back on your neck.
Serving one plate, putting it off to the side atop the counter. "Has that car across the street been there all day?" He whispers into your ear. "Which car?" you ask, brows furrowing, knowing there must be at least ten cars lining the street outside your house.
"The grey SUV parked down the street," he answers with a flat voice. "No, I don't think so," you reply, hearing him give an acknowledging hum in return.
Releasing you from his arms, grabbing the now two plates sitting off to the side, severing the boys at the table. Turning around with two more, with Andrew being there to take them out of your hands, leaving you with your daughter's dinner to serve. Placing the small plate in front of her, witnessing her spoon food into her mouth, cooing at the taste. Sitting down next to her, before digging in, watching her to make sure she doesn't choke.
"I drew a rocket today, Daddy," your five-year-old speaks up, squirming in his chair, food loosely stacked onto his fork. "Yeah, you'll have to show me after dinner," Andrew says, smiling at the excited boy.
"Can you help me make another one?" he asks, receiving a nod from his dad. "When you start school, you can show more people your drawings," he says, eating another bite of food.
"I want to go," your little one speaks up. "Not for another year, buddy," Andrew explains, making the little boy frown. "But I want to go," he cries, setting down his fork, linking his arm with his brother.
Both having been attached to each other since you brought the younger one home from the hospital, never being able to bring one without the other. Andrew says it runs in his side of the family, brothers always sticking together, but you wait for the day they include their sister in the pack.
"You will when you get older," you reply, running a hand over his hair, colored the same shade as yours. "You'll see him when we drop him off and pick him up," you further explain, trying to comfort the little boy. Nodding, not knowing if he understood it all, watching him go back to eating his dinner.
Finishing at the dinner table, Andrew quickly moving into action, collecting all the plates from the table. "Go play," he tells the boys, hearing the TV turn on as soon as their feet hit the rug.
Picking up your daughter from her highchair, allowing her to rest on your chest while putting away the dishes Andrew washes and dries. Silently working together with the sound of your boys shouting in the background, laughing as they argue about the TV show playing.
Once finished, watching him dry his hands before plucking the tired toddler from your arms. Showering her in kisses, earning small tired giggles, taking her out of the kitchen and upstairs to put her to bed. Sitting with the boys in the living room, slowly calming down, full bellies starting to set in.
Sitting together on the couch, calmly watching their favorite show, their heads quickly snapping to the stairs. Andrew coming down the step, baby monitor in hand, planting himself between the both of you. Pulling your body close, head lying on his chest, pecking your forehead just as the boy curls up with him.
"Did you want to draw that rocket?" He asks the one resting on his shoulder, "Tomorrow" The boy whispers, sleep creeping in fast. Smiling to yourself, knowing bedtime would be a breeze tonight.
Watching only a few more episodes before carrying the boys up the stairs, tucking them into their beds. Kissing their cheeks, Andrew goes into the bedroom before you to shower, wanting to give a big kiss to your daughter before bed. Quietly gushing over her sleeping state, seeing Andrew in her face more than your own, down to the dark reddish-brown hair. Stirring the toddler's sleep with a light kiss to her cheek, smiling as she finds sleep again.
Walking out, closing the door behind you, making it into your shared bedroom, hearing the shower going. Sitting atop your shared bed, turning on the TV at low volume, watching until the shower turns off. Turning your attention to the man walking out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, causing you to think about adding another to the household.
Seeing the stress of a long day on his body, the shower doing more than just washing away the smell of car oil and manufactured metal. Andrew working as a mechanic down the road, starting there right after you begin to date, both staying in town just to see each other again. Buying the place only after your second son was born, money became better with time, finally purchasing a two-story home, a big upgrade from the two-bed, one-bath apartment.
Looking away, biting the smile stretching along your lips, fighting to focus on the TV ahead. Feeling the bed cave around your thighs, lips kissing, trailing up the uncovered skin of your legs.
Peering down as Andrew makes it to the hem of your shorts, attacking your lips instead. Wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers running through his short curls, opening your legs, wrapping them around his waist.
Happily trapped by his thighs, hand digging under your clothing, squeezing at the flesh underneath it. Smiling against his lips, laughing as he peels off your shorts and underwear together, hearing the fabric hit the floor.
Moaning into the kisses, fingers working between your legs, breaking your heated kisses. Bringing them up to his mouth, lubing the surface of his two middle fingers with spit before burying them in you. Head tilting back into the pillow, lips bringing you back, feeling his fingers work to stretch your walls.
Removing them, causing an emptiness his cock fills, moving your arms under his. Fingertips digging into Andrew's bare back, moans mixing between breaths of warm kisses, hips slowly thrusting. Lips trailing away from your lips, allowing moans to escape, singing a beautiful song to his ears. Hips becoming more wild, lips stopping in the nook of your neck, feeling only Andrew's hot breath.
Bitting back the louder moans that bubble up your throat, aching to call out your husband's name. Groaning in your ear, dragging your nails down his back, causing his hips to slow, trying not to cum so quickly.
Kissing your lips once again, softly moaning in them as his cock thrusts slowly, only wanting to feel every inch of you. Hands caressing the sides of your thighs, squeezing, hard fingertips digging into your hips. Moans picking back up in volume as his hip's speed grows, only to halt, pelvis pressing against you.
"Did you cum?" You moan, gripping his shoulder blades, cock buried deep within you.
"No, I heard something," Andrew replies, catching his breath, looking towards the bedroom window. "I didn't hear anything," you say, following his line of sight, finally hearing it.
Muffled voices followed by footsteps coming from the backyards, hearing them perfectly as your bedroom overlooks it.
Springing out of bed, leaving you naked, sweating body. Unable to see, only able to watch Andrew's next actions, face twisted with anger. Opening his dresser, grabbing a new pair of underwear before moving to the closet.
"Andrew, what'd you see?" You whisper, not answering you, hearing him shift things around before pulling out a shotgun.
Eyes growing wide, losing your breath, never knowing the gun was hidden in your closet. "Andre-" "Shhh." He interrupts you, loading the gun before quickly exiting the locked bedroom. Hearing his heated footsteps grow distant, leaving you behind.
Slowly getting up from the bed, cautiously looking out the window, seeing nothing. Head snapping toward the hall, hearing the loud voices coming from downstairs. Grabbing your shorts and underwear, putting them on, trying to make out the voices. Slowly walking down the hall, taking your time with each step, hearing Andrew's voice becoming clearer.
"That was the point!" He yells.
Turning the corner of the stairs, met with the back door being wide open, the porch light on, seeing your husband's figure. Stepping closer, noticing three men standing in your backyard, holding their hands up as Andrew points the gun in a scanning motion.
All three of their eyes flicker to you, alerting Andrew of your presence behind him. "Go back upstairs," he says to you, voice cold and flat, not bothering to even look at you.
"Pope, please." The one with darker, shorter hair pleads, causing your brows to furrow. Pope?
"I told you I'm done with Smurf. I left all of you in the past, accept it like I did." "Pope, please listen to him," the blonde one says.
"Andrew," you say, seeing his shoulders tense up more than they already are. "I said go back upstairs, please," he pleads, voice cracking at the end.
"So that's it, just cause you have a new family now means we're not anymore." The brown-haired one speaks again, "You stopped being my family after crushing up pills into my food after I got out," he sobs.
"I had no idea about that." "Yeah, me neither," both the long brown and blonde-haired men said. "Pope, please, you're unmedicated." "I am medicated, professionally, not taking pills with someone else's name on the bottle!" he yells, pointing the shotgun at the man with short hair.
"I'm finally doing good in my life, I'm not letting you fuck that up. Tell Smurf she can go fuck herself. I'm not her son anymore. Like I ever was," he shouts, saying the last part a bit calmer, voice still cracking with each word.
"Get the fuck out of here NOW! Never come back!" he shouts, moving forward, causing the men to move back. Disappearing the way they came, finally allowing Andrew to lower his gun, turning back, facing you across the yard. Looking as though he were a beaten puppy, tears stain your husband's cheeks as he walks across the yard, racing up the small set of stairs before closing, locking the door behind him.
"Andrew" is all you could manage as he steps forward, resting the gun on the side wall. Arms engulfing you, hearing the sobs escape his throat, dropping to his knees, hugging your legs. Softly running your fingers through his hair, shock still setting in, having just seen some of the family he's had told you little of, maybe for good reason.
"Andrew, please," you plead, cupping his cheek, causing his eyes to peer up at you. "Tell me what happened to you," you beg, knowing this would be the only time you would ever get an answer.
| NEXT PART
Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!
♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI.
Pope’s sitting at the table in the kitchen and you’re standing near the counter, trying to open up a jar by yourself. If he’d noticed, he would’ve helped immediately, but your back’s turned to him and his gaze’s fixated on the floor.
Getting frustrated, you click your tongue before speaking. “Andrew, love, come here a sec?”
He’s right behind you in a flash.
“I got it, sweetheart.” it’s all he says, effortlessly opening the jar you’d been struggling with for at least five minutes. You smile mindlessly, shoulder resting against his chest. Looking up to him, your palms find his cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss. “Thank you, love.”
The second time you do it, it’s a completely different situation yet still unintentional.
It’s late at night and in a sleepy haze, you hear the front door open and light footsteps heading towards the bathroom. Reluctantly, you get up to follow them. You find your boyfriend sitting on the edge of the tub, trying to self medicate a wound. Pope doesn’t acknowledge your presence, too focused on how bad the cuts sting. Or at least not until you’re clicking your tongue, head shaking in disapproval.
“Here, let me do it” you offer, taking the bandages and alcohol from his bloody hands.
Andrew’s static, gaze sorrowful. I’m sorry, he wants to say. Kneeling between his parted legs, you deal with the injury. Once you’re done, you plant a kiss on his cracked lips, “it’s okay love”.
It happens accidentally another couple of times, at least, before you slowly start to notice that whenever you click your tongue, Pope draws closer to you, lingering around like he’s excepting something.
So that’s when you start doing it on purpose, kind of playing into seeing how far you can take it before he notices; clicking your tongue every time you need something from Pope and then kissing him after as a thank you.
You try bringing it inside the bedroom as well, once for now: Andrew’s been eating you out for what felt like hours, lapping at your cunt like man starved. You truly are grateful how much he values your pleasure but christ you need him inside you yesterday. Thus, you grab a fist full of curls and force his mug up, causing a whine to escape his throat.
Pope looks completely out of it, blindsided by how puffy your pussy has become due to all his sucking and biting. He’s not even trying to look you in the eyes. That’s when you click your tongue and his gaze snaps up immediately. There’s your Andrew.
“Come up here, ‘need you..” You moan into the open-mouth kiss as soon as he finally sinks into you.
So you keep doing it on purpose. And everything goes great, you’ve successfully pavloved Andrew Cody.
A small click of your tongue and your boyfriend’s hanging around you, waiting to be helpful to you and hopefully getting a kiss in return. You can’t be sure whether he’s figured it out and is simply indulging you or he genuinely has no clue about what you’ve done to him.
However, an answer comes unexpectedly when one day, you’re all at Smurfs. Setting up the table for dinner, you stand outside with Craig talking bullshit as usual, courtesy of being coked out half the time. Deran and Pope are inside, cooking.
Absentmindedly, you click your tongue at something unbelievably idiotic Craig says.
You don’t even realise what you did until Andrew comes up behind you, strong arm wrapping around your hips, placing a sweet kiss on your temple.
“Need something, sweetheart?” His voice is so raspy in your ear that your head feels dizzy for a second. You might’ve clicker trained the man, but the way he’s always so willing to give you anything is a hazard to your self control.
Craig’s gaze flickers between you and Andrew, eyes so wide they might pop out. You’re so lost in your own bubble, that you barely register him laughing at the two of you.
“God damn it brother, she’s got you trained like a fuckin’ dog!” He jokes. And for being on drugs all the time, he’s perceptive, you’ll give him that.
Andrew’s expression goes from soft to confused fast. His back straightens. He hates being the unaware one, being laughed at and you know it.
“What?” He barks, his grip around you getting firmer. As if he’s looking for some grounding within you.
“Don’t worry about it” you don’t mean to sound dismissive, it’s just not the time nor place. Not with his brother teasing. After all, what you two do inside the walls of your own home is no one else’s business.
But Pope’s relentless. Looking at you in search of answers, eyes downright almost begging.
“What’s he talkin about?”
You hate not giving into him, but you truly don’t feel like dealing with his brothers teasing. So you turn to him, palming the back of his neck, “I’ll explain it later, ‘kay love?”
His muscles relax at your touch. Eventually, Andrew nods, slightly hesitant.
“Good boy.” It’s merely a whisper in his ear, barely audible. Only for him.
But you swear under the hand you’re sliding up his forearm, you feel goosebumps spreading over his skin.
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