#cannibaltalks

[cannibalkermit]

Pope is the type to fuck you raw into oblivion till your thighs are red and burning and then ask if you want a sandwich with the crusts cut off

[cannibalkermit]

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

Abbot's favorite position is between your legs. He's got the look of an eater, with all that confidence and puppy eyes. That big chest perfect for sitting on, grinding against his mouth while his tongue curls into you, tasting all your heady juices. and his stubble rubbing against your sensitive inner thighs, his rough fingers dragging over your ass and gripping your waist while he tilts his head so his teeth catch against your clit, making you spill over the edge and smother him between your thighs.

ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

[cannibalkermit]

MDNI ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

AND IF I SAID

Pope Cody would be obsessed with overstimulating you without using his cock once. He’d be smug about it too, reminding you often how he managed to make you cum four—no, five times in one night, with his thick hands and broad tongue.

How you whined and shook uncontrollably, your face all hot and the blood rushing. He’s insatiable, sucking and biting and nuzzling your sore, puffy clit till you cum so many times that you go numb and squirt over his hand.

AND THEN only after you’re so overstimulated that you’re crying and pushing him away while begging that it's too much, he’d crawl over you and finally bury his cock slow and deep into your heat, grinding his pelvis against you and making you twitch around him.

[cannibalkermit]

mmmmm Jack Abbot making you wear his dog tags like a collar and then pulling the chain tight to make you arch while he fucks you from behind

[cannibalkermit]

Getting Your Wish

Pairing: Pope Cody x Reader x Jack Abbot

Summary: You get what you want, Pope Cody and Jack Abbot at the same time.

contains: smuuuttty smut, p in v, p in a, double penetration, blindfolded reader, fem reader, Pope is possessive, Jack's just happy to be there

A/N: This little imagine blew up and literally one person asked for it, so I entered a flow state and blacked out. Not proofread or anything, we're flying blind. I'm sorry it's short and not a full-fledged one-shot (╥ ᴗ ╥) Imma be honest this is a completely new writing style for me and I'm very nervous... yay to firsts (cries)

Pope would hate sharing you with Abbot. He’s far too possessive to even allow another man to look at you. But you asked so sweetly, all watery-eyed and soft, “pleaasseee, baby. It would make me so happy, so filled,” and he can’t say no.

He’d interrogate the hell out of Abbot and glare at him the whole time, and Jack, being so clearly devoted to you and your wants, would endure the threatening presence. He might even take a jab at Pope just for fun. 

Pope would be so obvious about his possessiveness. He’s horrible at sharing in general, but when it comes to you? He‘s like a dog guarding food. He’d have his hands all over you, eyes always tracking what Jack's doing. You’d have to keep reminding him to relax and maybe even to breathe. And fragile little Pope trusts you so much, but he just doesn’t trust anyone else. He won't even let Jack fuck you from the front, but it's no problem for the other man, who finds himself enamored with your ass. 

And can you even blame Pope? He’s so obsessed with your tits. How they’d bounce when he thrusts into your sopping core, how your nipples would harden against his chest. He’d like watching your face, too. When your eyes roll, and your mouth falls open as Jack lines himself up from behind, wetting your tight little hole with lube and pre-cum, before slowly stretching you open, hands digging into your ass.

“Relax, baby, just breathe,” Pope would say, and it would drive him absolutely insane when you’d let your head fall back against Abbot’s shoulder. Pope would be so jealous that he’d dig bruises into your thighs held up over his hips. You'd be scratching at his back, and he’d tell you to hold on tighter just so you wouldn’t lean against Jack. 

You’d take it slow and gentle, Jack pressing in just enough for you to stretch around the head of his cock, then inching it in as Pope flicked his fingers over your swollen clit. They’d both whisper praises, “fuck, you’re so tight,” and “come on, don't hide that pretty voice,” and you’d be so lost in the sensation of the men taking up space inside you, only a sensitive inner wall separating their cocks, that you wouldn’t even register who was speaking. 

God, it would be so worth all the awkwardness in the beginning, and the tension practically rippling off Pope. You’d be so full. And maybe poor overthinking Pope wouldn’t want you looking at Jack, he wouldn’t want you comparing them. So he’d have you blindfolded. Nothing too tight or uncomfortable, probably black silk that was pricey and tied with a perfect little bow. 

You'd only be able to feel them. Big strong hands all over your body, warm and rough and digging into your skin. You'd feel lips on your neck, sucking on your shoulder, drool down your back.

The sounds would be lewd too. The squelch of your pussy clenching around Pope's thick cock, fluttering and spurting. And the echo of Jack’s hips thrusting against your ass, every inch deeper making you cry louder. They’d fill you up so much that you’d feel close to splitting in two. And the spots they would hit deep inside, not quite in sync, but enough to leave you writhing in constant pleasure. 

You’d lose your senses, lost in the overflowing of it all. Caged between them unable to pull away. And maybe they’d both pull out, leaving you so horribly empty you’d be hiccuping begs for them to come back.

There’d be movement, sweaty skin slipping and sliding as they manhandled you. And only after you’d be crying with need, thighs shaking, you’d be filled again—and you’d have no idea who was fucking your cunt and who was pistoning into your ass. Who’s kissing and thrusting his tongue into your mouth, who's burying his nose in your hair. Which hands are massaging your ass and which are rubbing your clit. 

You'd start gasping, clenching muscles as your release builds in pressure. The grunts and groaning would just encourage you. Jack would whisper sweetly in your ear, "That's it, you're getting so fluttery for me. Such a good girl." And you'd moan so loud and uncontrolled that Pope would get angry. Oh, he'd fuck into you so hard, practically growling. You'd feel fingers on your clit, rubbing hard and fast to get you off, and it would be so much overwhelming stimulation that you'd orgasm with a scream, vision all white and limbs twitching uncontrollably.

And you’d know for certain that it’s Pope fucking deep into your sore core at the end, cause he’d never let another man fill you with cum. No way, you were his girl, his to fill. He'd never let anyone dirty you up like that.

[cannibalkermit]

Animal Attraction by She Wants Revenge but it inspired me to write perverted stalker reader who's obsessed with Pope

this goes out to my favorite tumblr freaks who inspire me to let the inner wolf out (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Content: p in v, stalking, unconsensual photos?, voyeurism, unprotected freaks, light choking

You'd sleep around with all the Cody brothers just so you could get closer to Pope. You curate yourself into the perfect girl, all soft and baby-like for Baz and clueless for Smurf, getting drunk and partying with Craig, taking a job at the bar and keeping some secrets (blackmail), whatever needs to be done.

All so you practically live in the same house as him and do whatever you want. You sneak into Pope's room to snoop through his things, stealing clothes that you wear when you finger yourself to the thought of him, rubbing your release onto his boxers before folding them up and putting them back in his drawer. You sneak around the side of the house, using a camera to zoom in through his window and watch him get ready for bed, clenching your thighs as you watch him change—as if doing it just for you.

You eye-fuck him every chance you get, stare at the bulge in his pants, lick your lips, salivating at the thought of dropping to your knees and taking him so deep in your throat that you gag. Wearing tiny fucking shorts and cropped tanks so he can watch sweat run down your back and sunlight glisten off your belly ring. You bend over just to arch your back and imagine his tongue running along your spine, imagine him salivating to the thought of your salty skin between his teeth as he fucks you from behind.

You come out in a skimpy bikini barely holding everything in, knowing he’s just drooling at the site of you, your curves and discolorations. He’s obsessed with watching you uncross your legs, giving him the briefest view between your thighs and the little stubble peaking out beneath the bottoms. The way you turn to him with your shoulders back and face all scrunched in the sun, holding out your sunscreen and asking in a sing song voice “won't you help me? I can't reach my back”

He’s heading for you before the word “yes” even leaves his lips, watching you lie on your stomach, your eyes covered by the brim of your sun hat. “Dont be scared to touch. I need it under the straps too,” you coax him forward, and hiss a slight breath at the cold liquid contacting your spine, making you arch just a little. His big hands spread out over your back, rubbing it in, fingers sliding under the straps of your top. He’s trying not to think of how easy it would be to pull that string and undue the bow holding it together. Let you spill out, let him grope your tits and pebble those nipples heloves staring at.

“Can you get lower?” you ask in a teasing voice, watching from beneath your hat as his adams apple bobs, but he follows orders. Wet hands roam down to the small of your back, then slowly over the curve of your ass as he lets out a little “this okay?” and you hum in reply, feeling your cunt flutter to life and drench your bottoms.

And poor Pope, all he can do is rub the sunscreen in until you spread your plush thighs open a little and his finger accidentally slips between your legs against the seam of your bottoms, letting him feel the dampness, the warmth, and he has to get out of there as soon as possible, to go hide in a closet and chase the smell of you on his fingers.

You know he leaves the bathroom door slightly ajar when showering so you can peek through and watch him bathe, watch him jerk off with his back facing you, all rippling muscles and those huffing breaths as he whispers your name. You bite your lip to keep quiet as you touch yourself, wanting to go in there and taste his release. The amount of times you’ve imagined walking in on him, just to get a good look at that v-line, get a chance to touch him, let your mouth fall open and tongue go flat against him, looking up at how his abdomen tenses and his head falls back when you suck him all the way down your throat like a good girl.

You start sleeping with no panties on and shirts that ride up your abdomen, your door unlocked and window open. He's keeping a collection of photos of your sleeping form, hair tousled and legs open like you're posing for him. And maybe he stays up late into the night sometimes just staring at those photos while fisting himself, hips stuttering as he imagines what you taste like, how you’d sound with his teeth on your clit or his tongue in your pussy.

You've got your own collection of sneaky photos: him on jobs, from behind trees across the street while he's at the atm, at the end of the grocery aisle. You learn his routine and start inserting yourself in every aspect of his life. Running into him at the beach, getting the girl who smiled at him fired from the store, coming over to sunbathe while he's working on the yard, pretending not to care in your bikini and staring at him through your big sunglasses.

You got his whole routine logged in your notes app. Where he goes shopping, how many hours a day he sleeps, when he wakes up, what he usually eats for breakfast. You even bought the same soap so you could smell more like him.

And maybe one night while following him across town, wearing no panties under your tight jean shorts cause you just get so turned on while stalking, Pope catches you off-guard. Cause of course he knows you stalk him, and he's so pent up with want that he can't help but drag you by the nape of your neck to the nearest back alley, pulling down your little shorts and sticking his fingers into your cunt, making your eyes roll back. "so fucking nasty, you get off on following me around?" he's leaning in, sniffing your neck and getting your hair in his mouth, pulling on the strands and tasting your conditioner.

He'll snatch your camera and start taking flash photos of your face while finger-fucking you, "so fucking wet and disgusting, look at you. You want it? Baby, c'mon, let the whole city know," he’s knuckles deep, curling his fingers up into that sponge as his thumb rolls over your swollen clit, making you buck against him, head thrown back as you mewl. Before you can cum on his hand he’s abruptly stopping, licking your slick off his glistening fingers before unbuckling his belt with one hand.

He'll record the whole thing—the moment your sloppy cunt sucks him in, how loud you moan while he thrusts until his hips slam into yours, all the babbled, incoherent things you say while clawing at him, not caring how loud you are.

"wanna—ahh, fuck—cum inside me. I wanna feel you, all you," you want to feel him inside you for days, don't you? Dream about the thick length of him, the pulsing vein that's sliding against your folds, the head of him squishing deep and the sputtering warmth as he bucks his hips, rutting endlessly and turning your pussy raw and burning.

He takes pictures of your face as you cum around him, thighs shaking and eyes rolling back. Then his thrusts falter for a moment while he sets the camera down and reaches for you, fingers round your neck as he picks up the pace. He’s got you squealing and gurgling choked moans, biting on his thumb when the pleasure spikes with pain.

He doesn't stumble one second as hot sticky release shoots into you, fucking himself through the climax and moaning against your shoulder. “Gonna keep following me?” he’s asking, squeezing your chin and forcing you to look at him.

You can't help but smile. He likes it just as much as you do.

And that's how he got a picture of you cumming in his wallet

ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

[cannibalkermit]

Pope being obsessed with his plus sized gf and her stretch marks—screams

ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

He’s going down on you one inch at a time and stops to kiss all the marks on your stomach, trailing his fingers over the ones on your thighs. It's all sensitive skin and makes you flustered like crazy.

You get self-conscious about the stretch marks on your arms and chest, not wanting to wear any tank tops but here comes Pope caging you against the wall and putting your hands above your head, making you forget about the whole problem by sticking his tongue in your mouth. As one does.

He’ll buy you a fitted crop top and sit in the dressing room all grumpy cause there's no way you’re buying clothes without trying them on first. But then you put on that crop top that rides all the way up your stomach and stretches over your chest, bra showing a little cause it wasn't designed for big tits. It's hugging over your curves and tight around the arms. He’s practically drooling.

And then you try on some shorts that dig into your thighs a little and show off your ass and Pope’s grabbing you by the belt loops and getting you on his lap, bulge pressing against your clothed pussy and thank GOD the door’s locked cause he’s gonna fuck you in the dressing room. Oh and he's gonna be watching you the whole time through the mirror.

He won't even be fast about it either, won't even care if an employee comes knocking, if he gets you banned from the store. He’s entirely focused on how your thighs wrap around him, how those shorts left little indents in your skin when he took them off. He’s grabbing fistfuls and rocking your hips, watching his cock just disappear between your plush lips.

“I still got stuff to try on,” you breathlessly whine, burying a moan against the crook of his neck.

“Mmm fuck clothes, don't need em.”

•

Sometimes all I wanna write is dialogue so here's a little more ( ⸝⸝´ ᵕ `⸝⸝)

“don't gotta care about anyone else but me, kay? They’re beautiful, remind me of a zebra,” Pope's saying, eyes all over you like he's gonna eat you (don't tempt him)

you roll your eyes with a scoff. “Points for uniqueness. Usually people say tiger stripes.”

“yeah but I like zebras more.”

“I'm being serious.”

“So am I. I like bein’ able to throw you around a little without worrying if you’ll snap.”

“… you don't think it's… I don't know, unflattering?”

“It shows you’re unique. Think I could find anyone with the same patterns? Probably not.”

There he is kissing all over you, marking you up with his teeth and tracing those patterns, sayin’ things like “I like knowin’ your skin and your skin only.”

[cannibalkermit]

The revolutionary experience of being double penetrated by Pope Cody and Jack Abbot while blindfolded so you have no idea who's touching where or which one’s behind you right now—

*dies in explosion*