Summary After a Cody family dinner, you find yourself desperate to make your mark on Pope.
Tags Angst, Angst and comfort, established relationship, mentions of violence, TW: mentions of Smurf, hickies n shit, unprotected piv, riding, I'm so sorry if I'm forgetting something
Authors Note This was supposed to be a short blurb!!! I got carried away!! Sue me!! Anyway I love the idea of Pope having a girl that kind of matches his energy in a way that makes him have to be the level-headed one sometimes. Not that he's not calm?? Idk it's a vibe you know what I mean. It's balance.
xoxo, Hazel
“We’re leaving.” Pope grabs your hand and starts dragging you to the truck. His voice is heavy and his long, determined strides are hard to keep up with.
“Hon, you're hurting me." It’s not a plea, it’s a fact. He doesn’t always know his own strength, and you’re giving him an out. You try to wriggle free, but his grip is solid.
“Shut up and get in the car,” he grits. You’ve made it out front, the truck in sight and the family dinner fading behind you.
“Hey,” you yank back, and he finally turns to you, eyes dark. “Remember who you’re talking to,” you snap, eyes burning right back.
Popes jaw twitches, like he’s recalibrating.
"Please. Get into the car." The words come out from gritted teeth. His anger never dissipates fast. It’s still there brewing under the surface, threatening to fester into something dangerous.
You’re not one to cower from him. You know he would never raise a hand to you. But you also know that he needs to be reminded that you’re not a ragdoll to be thrown around.
“What. Happened.” Your words are slow and deliberate. It’s clear that you’re not budging.
Pope looks away from you, eyes cast somewhere in the distance. You take his jaw in one hand and bring his gaze back to yours. Bring his focus back to you.
The longer Pope looks at you, into your eyes, the steadier his breathing becomes. Twitching, restless hands fall heavily to his sides. When you’re sure you have his attention, you drop your hand from his face.
“Smurf.” He grunts.
“Said..?” You supply. You know it’s not going to be good.
“Not to trust you.”
You know there was more said, surely. It’s never that short or simple with her. Especially if it set him off this much. But you also know that Pope will never tell you the whole truth. Not about her, at least. Not when he knows it will sting.
You never argue or insert yourself in family business. You make breakfast and clean up after the boys. After a job, you patch up your boyfriend as best you can, sometimes his brothers, if they need it. You pick up Lena from school. There hasn’t been a single thing to suggest that you would cross any of them, least of all Pope.
All of that anger you tried to quell in him has risen up in you now. Your own hands clench at your sides, and a million nasty words rise in your throat.
Pope identifies it in you a half a second before you’ve even made the decision yourself. When you spin on your heels to go back to the house, his arms are already around your waist, pulling you back.
“Stop it,” Pope warns.
“No!” You pull at his forearms, knowing it’s fruitless. “I’m going to give her something to bitch about!”
“You know you can’t do that.” His mouth is right at the shell of your ear.
It’s like only one of you can be furious at a time, balancing the scales. That’s your relationship. Balance.
“Let me go!" You continue to struggle against his iron grasp. “I’m going to knock her teeth in. See if she has anything to say then.”
At that point, Pope knows that’s enough. No longer willing to entertain your flailing, he forcefully pulls you back, towards the truck, pinning you against the passenger side door. His hands are pressed against the door on either side of you, holding you there.
“That’s enough,” he growls. The situation is a cruel mirror to how you looked at him just moments ago.
Both of you have a deep, hot anger simmering in your bellies. Both of you searching for solace in each others eyes.
Desperate to claim him, to make your mark, to remind yourself that you belong to each other, you bring Popes mouth to yours.
The kiss is passionate and angry. Pope presses his body against you, fully trapping you against the car door. Mouths open and sloppy, he swallows your moans. You drag your leg up and wrap it around his waist, trying to get him as close to you as possible. Needing to feel him.
Pope grips your plush thigh, fingers digging into skin.
“Not here,” he mutters when your hand slips up the front of his shirt.
“Yes here,” you counter, hands gripping his hips.
Pope takes your hands off his body and pins them above your head against the car. “Not. Here.” It's final, but it's not the end.
That anger is still buzzing within you on the short drive back to your place. For all of your consoling and comforting when Pope needs it, it's hard for you to take your own advice. His hand rests on your thigh as your leg bobs up and down, irritation just growing as you sit with it. The energy and anger wanting to claw its way out of you.
“I can’t take this,” you swing the door open and practically stomp inside, throwing your bag onto the floor.
“You see why I tried to get you to leave,” Pope follows behind. He picks your bag up and hangs it on the rack where it belongs.
“Are you just going to stand there and lecture me?” You’re not even looking at him when you say it, already pulling your shirt off and storming into the bedroom. Pope follows after you.
There’s only one dim light on in your bedroom, and Pope can see the outline of you shedding the remainder of your clothes. He stands there, just watching you, not sure how to make you calm down.
“Clothes.” It’s an order. You tug at his belt, undoing the leather through the buckle. He stands like a rock.
“You don’t have to prove anything,” he says. His hand finds your bare upper arm, squeezing. “You know I don’t give a fuck what Smurf thinks about you.”
“But I do. For some reason.” The words come out more angry than desperate, still fighting an invisible force. Your jaw clenches, and you direct your attention to the buttons on Pope’s shirt.
“So I’m going to fuck you,” the shirt falls away from his broad shoulders. You start to kiss his freckled skin. “And I’m going to leave marks on your pretty little neck, scratches on your sun-kissed back-”
A stifled groan leaves Pope as you make your way up his jaw. He holds your waist, his grip tightening around you.
“And when she sees you next, she’ll know that I’m not going anywhere.”
You drag Pope to your bed, climbing on top of him. While the kisses have less anger laced through them, they aren’t less feverish. You bite and suck at his neck, leaving a hickey just too high for his collared shirts to cover. And another one. And another one.
His hands grip your bare ass as you mark your territory, moving you against his hard dick, straining against his boxers. It’s getting stiffer the more you grind on him.
You reach and shove his boxers down, letting his thick cock spring free. You rub your dripping cunt up and down his length, making lewd sounds with every movement.
“Tell me you love me,” you moan, desperation dripping in your words.
“You know I do,” Pope says. When he grips your thighs, it’s firm enough that you know he’s leaving his mark on you, too.
Pussy quivering in anticipation, you pump his dick a few times before slowly sinking down onto him, taking him all in at once.
“Fuck, thatta girl,” Pope’s voice shakes, losing his breath as you take him all in.
“Please, Andrew,” you whine as he nearly splits you in half. You lean forward and slam your ass down on his hips. Chasing validation from him and a release from inside your belly.
“I love you,” he says finally. And twice more, punctuated by each bob of your hips. "God, I love you so much."
You take a deep breath, letting his words wash over you. Pope reaches up, snaking his fingers through your hair and gripping the back of your neck. “I trust you with my life. You’re- oh fuck- you’re it for me.”
When your movements become shorter and faster, Pope wraps an arm around your waist, pulling himself up so that you’re chest to chest. Your legs wrapped around him, his dick still buried inside you. He kisses you with an open mouth, tongue sliding against yours, sealing his words.
He starts to move again, and the new angle reaches a spot that blurs your vision. You bury your face in his neck, moaning at every sharp movement. His shoulder is right there, and you sink your teeth in, causing Pope to let out a low groan. You kiss and lick the tiny indentations in his skin, whimpering sweet things in his ear.
"You fuck me so good," you moan. "I'm gonna come."
When Pope hears this, his grip around your waist tightens, and he bucks his hips up into you deeper and harder, chasing that orgasm.
Your face twists as you come undone, hands gripping Pope wherever they can grasp. "Come on, Angel," he grunts, watching your face.
"Andrew, fuck," you whimper as he thrusts into you, your pussy still twitching around him.
Pope peppers your neck with light kisses before easing you out of his lap, letting you catch your breath and regain your senses. He lays you on the bed, holding himself over you with arms on either side.
"I shouldn't have said anything," he mutters. He buries his face in the crook of your neck.
"I want to know," you respond, bringing his face to yours. "Besides, you can't hide when you're upset any more than I can."
Pope considers this for a moment. He doesn't like it, but nods anyway. "Guess that's true."
You tilt your face up and kiss the corner of his mouth. Pope returns with more, like he always does. More intensity, more passion, more him. When you loop your arms around him, you can feel his dick line up with your entrance.
"Come on, baby," your voice almost gets lost in his kisses. "I'm yours."
He pushes inside you, unable to hold back once he's inside. He slams into you, unrelenting, getting lost in your bliss. The way you feel wrapped around him. You grip his shoulders, pulling him down to you, nails leaving small crescent moons in his skin. You dig into his back, scratching and clawing, leaving more marks in your wake.
"So good," he grunts, "so good to me." He mutters your name over and over, praying to you, devoting himself to you. "You know that?"
"Mmm" is all you can manage. The smirk is wiped off your face by the euphoria washing over you. He's close, you can feel it.
"Fuck, baby, m'gonna come," he pants in your ear.
Your grip on him tightens, pulling him closer. "I want to feel you, Andrew."
Within moments, he slams his cock into you, jaw slack as he spills inside your pussy. "Shit," he mutters, working his way through his climax.
You kiss his mouth, his cheek, his forehead. Invisible marks that Smurf will never see, but you know are there.
Later, Pope pulls your body against his, your back against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you. Your thumb rubs gently back and forth over his forearm.
"You asleep?" you ask. You know the answer.
"No," Pope kisses the back of your head. When you don't say anything, he rolls you over onto your back to get a better look at your face. "What's going on, Angel?"
It's unfair, how beautiful he is. You bring you hand up to cup his jaw and just look at him. At his face, his freckles, and the small bruises just beginning to bloom, trailing down his neck.
"I hope you know, I'll always defend you," he says, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes search yours.
"I know," you smile. "And I'll always look out for you."
Pope rises from the bed, and bends down to retrieve his discarded boxers. A dramatic gasp escapes you, and his face snaps to yours.
"What? What is it?" he looks alarmed.
You bring your hands to your mouth, unable to hide your smile. "Your back," you giggle. "I think I got a little carried away..."
Pope goes to the bathroom and cranes his neck, straining to see the damage your nails have inflicted. "Christ," he mutters.
You follow close behind, admiring your handywork. "You've been through worse," you shrug, trying to bite back your smirk. "I think you look sexy."
"Yeah?" Pope smiles at you. He ducks his head into your neck. "Maybe I should return the favor, then."
knowing motm through the comic dub video that I watch with my roommates..... it's living in my mind rent free (along with the new update HOLY BALL/pos)
anyway chat please check out "myth of the machine" by @nortsauce n @flygutzz it's so good @myth-of-the-machine
(Popey is a motm oc base on Popeye the sailor!!! I'll prob show more about him soon mayhaps..... 🥹)
met a girl tonight saying that she doesn't like kie bc she should've never made a fool out of popey, bc she's supposed to be with jj all along and i'm like ???!
#project hail mary
#the amazing digital circus
#heated rivalry
#lana del rey
#photography
