imagining submissive pope cody that lets u tie him up to a chair and do whatever u want to him <3
slowly taking his cock into ur mouth while he whines and groans at the sudden wetness. precum building on his tip and he tastes sooo good on ur tongue u can’t help but moan.
mean!pope cody mocking you and then giving you his babies <3
mdni, 18+ only
warning: popes just being an asshole, crying during sex, breeding
your sitting on your bed hands palm up while you argue with him. “i just don’t understand where this is coming from andy.” he’s asking about having a baby, you’ve been together a little over three years now and to say it’s never crossed your mind would be a lie, but you can’t figure out why he’s so worked up about it.
he’s standing in front of you, arms crossed against his chest. “last night. you said it, that you wanted a baby.” you rack your brain trying to think of when you said that but come up empty handed. “what? i never said that.”
he tilts his head and bends at his waist to become eye level with you, in a mocking tone, “oh andy, fill me up please!” your face drops. “make me a mommy andy, please baby” his voice is high pitched mocking yours, your bottom lip wobbles a little at it. “yah? you gonna cry now? cause you were a whore last night? guess you were to fucked out on daddy’s cock to understand what you were saying.”
“pope stop” your voice breaks a little, sitting on your hands now. “no.” his voice is scoffing and deep, leaning in closer to your damp face. “stop being such a fucking baby, and give me one.” he pushes you back against the bed roughly, kissing you hard, hands moving to squeeze at your ass as you whine, tears still slipping out of your eyes.
“stop fucking crying” he’s growling against your lips, shoving down your shorts and tugging his own off, pumping himself a couple times before stuffing you with his fat cock. you cry out at the stretch with no prep, the burn stinging. pope grips your chin between his fingers making you look at him while he slams in and out of you.
“i’m gonna fill you till your leakin’” he drawls out, kissing you roughly again. “gonna pump your belly full of me.” you’re clenching around him, whining. “you may be crying but my best girls not lying to me.” he spits on your pussy, and starts rubbing your clit with his thumb, still pumping in and out of you.
“yeahh” he chuckles “she wants my babies.” he’s slamming into you so hard your sure your cervix is going to be bruised tomorrow. “andy” your whining, tears still falling. “shut up, wasn’t talking to you.” he’s not even looking at you but at your puffy red cunt.
a/n: whew girl omggg WROTE THISUHH 😒😒😒 hehehe ily mean!pope
pope and his possessive girlfriend who he didn't really believe when she initially told him she had jealousy issues. it starts to come out in somewhat... subtle ways; slotting yourself into his side or onto his lap at any moment you feel like your territory is being threatened, leaving hair clips/ties in his car on purpose, or even wearing body glitter that will undoubtedly leave traces everywhere. it's not until craig makes a comment that you're marking your territory on pope like a dog does he seem more aware of it. craig points out to him that only a "crazy chick" leaves a trail of hickeys down neck that undoubtedly lead further down popes body then where he can see. by this point, there's really no stopping you and, frankly, pope didn't want to.
a sense of warmth, pride bloomed in his chest every time you placed yourself in his embrace. sitting on his lap, taking his arms to wrap them around your waist or guide his hand to slide in the back pocket of your pants while you pressed into him at any given moment. sitting in deran's bar, on a stool with pope standing beside you when a girl walks by making eyes at him, he couldn't describe the exact reason why he felt the carnal need to pound you into the next day when you tugged him by the belt loops of his jeans until he stood between your legs. or even why he felt himself stiffening his jeans when you slid your hand on his hip beneath his shirt, nails grazing his abdomen and v-line, tugging him down by his hair with your freehand to kiss him heatedly. slipping your tongue in his mouth, kissing like two teenagers who've had their first taste of each others flesh, all the while you're staring the poor girl down who thought she could ever stand a chance against coming between you and him. he felt a small inkling to maybe say something when he watched you stick your foot out and smirk watching the girl tumble. the poor girl who was pancaked on the floor had brushed up against him in her drunken stupor while making her way around the pool. but he couldn't, not when you looked at him so sickeningly sweet.
he definitely should've checked you on the bratty possessive behavior when he brought you back home for the typical cody family dinner. baz had brought cath so it was only right that he brought you along. over the years, cath's resentment towards baz for the life he had brought her into had grew tenfold when she watched you take the life she could've had with pope. of course, she never loved pope the way that you did, the way he deserved. it didn't stop her from feeling like maybe there was a chance to get that back. it was only a moment, to anyone else it was fleeting but to you, to you it was like time had frozen and you were seeing red. pope was on his usual cleaning frenzy after dinner and cath came into "help". the context of situation was irrelevant, all you could focus on was the way she was looking at him, hand on his arm and eyes desperately searching for any indication that maybe he'd want her still. their backs were to you when you slammed the wine glass onto the floor, shattering it to millions of glittering pieces. pope's body jumps a bit at the sheer surprise before he's immediately rushing over to check on you, tears welling in your eyes as you mumble 'm'so sorry'. cath's hand drops to her side as she watches the way coddled you, checking for cuts and making sure your okay. he had dropped his attention from her so quickly their should've been no doubt in her mind that the version of pope that loved her wasn't there anymore. she should've really known when she saw the cold stare in your eyes when just for a beat, you pulled back the sniffling so she could really see who pope belonged to.
even more so, cath should've know when she passed by pope's bedroom where the door was cracked ever so slightly. in his haste to taking you back to his bedroom, you seemingly forgot to close his bedroom door all the way. pinning your body beneath his as his pants pooled around his ankles, your bottoms discarded somewhere in the room in the room as he fucks you. your nails are clawing at his back, crying his name with every slap of his hips against yours, cunt drawing him in deeper with squeeze and desperate plea that slipped past your lips. your eyes drifted to that crack, seeing her standing there. tears slipped out of yours.
"you love me andy? do-do you love me?" the question is for him but you're looking dead at her.
"love you so fucking much, angel," he grunts into your neck, punctuating every word with a wet kiss to your neck. his thrusts unrelenting.
"only me andy? you only love me right?" it's desperate, needy. he was right in the palm of your hand but the fear and doubt lingered in the back of your mind. you haven't torn your gaze away, the pleasure so intoxicating it's playing games with your vision. if she was really standing there watching you both like this.
"only you... only you sweetheart. only one i love– fuck, i'm gonna fill this pretty pussy up... oh god, i love you... i only love you–"
andrew needs control. he wants everything neat and straight. he's particular about order and routines. he needs everything to go as planned, always. he sits with a rigid back, he cuts the crust of sandwiches, his clothes are perfectly ironed. he speaks just the right and necessary words, he's careful with his tone.
but andrew is also tired. of constantly overthinking, worrying, cleaning anxiously his traces during a job. of being relied on. of the pressure to have everything in place, to always have a plan, the fear of messing up and going back to the slammer for the tiniest mistake.
andrew loves control. being controlled, actually. being told what to do, turning off his brain, submitting, made all soft and complying, taking it all without complaining. falling to his knees, worshipping, melting under hands petting his hair, touching him all over. fingers of one hand sliding past his lips while the other one closes around his neck firmly, steadying and exciting.
and sweet andrew loves to say please and i'm sorry. he cums too fast, too messy, it makes him anxious and dirty but he just can't help it. he craves praise, being told how he's such a good boy, an obedient puppy, so easy to break and lead around, so eager to please and be the best and make you proud.
he cries so much around you. he's a glass perfectly filled to the top, waiting for the smallest push to pour all over. he wants to be cleaned up, picked up from the floor, be cared for and understood. to lay his head on your lap and be told everything it's okay. he's not bad, he's not sinful or unclean. even though you both know that's not true.
sweet, gorgeous and broken andrew guards you like a dog, comes at your command and sits at your feet. he looks up at you with beautiful pleading eyes, freckles blending with flushed skin and dried blood at his cheeks. you scare him and make him feel safe, make him feel useful and helpless at the same time. and he wouldn't want it any other way.
pope getting ready to fuck ur mouth with his gun maybe its loaded, maybe it’s not? but of course he’ll have the safety on for his baby girl wouldn’t want anything to happen to ur pretty little face <3
pope likes to put the laser sight dead center in your forehead when you're sucking him off.
makes him desperately hard, as you lay your head in his lap. green light shining on your temple. you're such a good girl for him. mag is empty but the weight is still heavy.
your nimble hands fiddle with his belt buckle, your head still flat on his thigh. you unbutton his jeans, not too eagerly. andrew's eye's never leave the shine atop your head. his gaze focused. he shifts his hips so you can pull his underwear and jeans down. you cock your head upwards. your hands go to play with his thick cock.
you stroke him, momentarily. "put it in your mouth, bunny." andrew states. you open your mouth, tapping the member on the flat of your tongue. you lick upward. andrew releases a deep sigh. you place your lips around the tip. cheeks hollowing. you run your tongue over the tip. andrew's hips shift. "you can fit the whole thing in your mouth bun. show me."
your eyes flutter, tears fall from your eyes. andy presses the barrel of the gun to your head. his free hand goes to wipe your eyes. his thumb strokes your cheek. the bulge of his cock prominent against his touch. "you're so pretty when you cry." he brings his finger to his mouth to taste your tears.
you gag. some spit falls from your mouth, and dribbles down your chin. he groans at the sight, cock twitching in your mouth. he spills and you swallow, effortlessly. the barrel stays pressed to your forehead as he softens in your mouth. his body language stiffens. he pulls the gun from your pretty face.
germansingergirl
prguitarman
tangentwithtanner
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
origamiaround
areudirty
