pope cody x neice!reader
warnings – incest duh (familial power imbalace ig🤷♀️), dead dove don't eat that shit, reader is craig's daughter, reader has abandonment issues, and trust issues, and lowkey codependency, (basically shes just as fucked up as popey but just in different ways), age gap, so much finger sucking, andrew and reader have freaky 'playtime's, edging as 'punishment', spanking, thigh-riding, thumb-sucking, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex, breeding kinks all around, dacryphilia (sort of - he gets hard but also he really really hates to see reader cry/crying makes him uncomfy), pope is possessive and protective asf, so is reader tbh, scratching/marking(???), they are both so fucked up, sort of self harm behaviour from reader, bit of a knife kink and a bit more of a gun kink, pope gives reader a personal knife and gun, pope teaches reader to shoot, use of guns, nothing explicitly sexual with it but it turns them both on like crazy, exhibitionism (kind of but not really, they js fuck wherever they want), outdoor sex, sex in the woods, somno, dubcon (because its somno), inappropriate use of one of those little vent things in a pool yk the ones, fingering in a pool, panty-sniffing, pant-cumming, a few issues with erectile dysfunction, mrec!oral, they are not any sort of an example of a healthy relationship and shouldnt be viewed as such, this is purely for enternmaint purposes im sorry if it upsets you but scrolling really is that easy xx
a/n: if you couldnt tell by the almost full page of warnings, i may or may not have gotten a bit carried away with this one idk just... i dont know, but i really hope you enjoy it my loves
—
Pope never really knew all that much about his neice. Craig had had you young. Smurf did her best to shove you under the rug and with his own teenage stupidity, Andrew offered no objection, too busy pounding his fists into faces in his free time—that or church or finding some quiet place he could roll around on his board and try the tricks he'd seen others doing down at the skate park from which he was banned for fighting.
You were barely two when your mom got full custody over you. A failed job had the entire Cody brood spending a weekend together in the local jail while police raided the house. They found you alone there around an hour after they'd all been taken in, scrunched up on Craig's unmade bed, sucking your thumb as you slept soundly.
The police swept you up and for a week you were kept by social services. Pope remembered that to be the first distinct time he had worried for you. His heart seemed to consume itself with violent concern, his neck stiff as he spent every possible moment glaring at his brother who seemed to bear no such guilted burden.
Alas, he found at least a little relief in knowing that Smurf would not reach him for however long the police could keep them, just as she could not taint you now. He decided then that it was for the better.
Five years came and went and you had not been brought up once. Then Craig started going away for days at a time, disappearing entirely and speaking nothing of it when he came home again. He'd put in some time with you, but still, at Oceanside nobody ever spoke your name, and that was the way it stayed. For sixteen years.
Three weeks after Pope was sentenced the four years for Baz's blunder during the bank robbery, Craig was hauling your boxes into their house. You'd turned 18 some days before and asked to move in with your dad, who figured keeping you there was better than his own shithole of a bachelor pad on the shoreline.
You were twenty-one by the time Pope got out, an altogether different woman than the one who first stepped onto Smurf's property so many years after being stripped from the family.
He froze when he saw you, and his hands became clammy and he clenched his jaw and granted you only a quick, stiff nod before trudging on to his bedroom.
It took two months for him to say more than ten words to you at once. He'd been out in the garden working on his fountain when you crept up behind him, wearing a triangle bikini that barely contained your bouncy tits, wobbling under the skimpy fabric.
"What are you doing, Uncle Andrew?" you hummed, tapping at his wrist as you peered over his shoulder.
"I'm... building a fountain."
"Why?"
"They look nice."
He kept his gaze forward, but when you stepped around him, the periphial view of your bikini bottoms had him gripping the handle of his hammer as if to choke it.
Your eyes were fixed on his, as wide and bright as he had witnessed any single person's eyes to be, and when you started to giggle, he felt as though the clouds had opened the heavens to him, bestowing its most tender tune to a sinner.
"Do you want to learn how to do it?" he tilted his head and his lips almost turned up in a smile as you beamed, nodding excitedly.
"Yes please, uncle Andrew."
He pretended that he didn't feel his cock twitch at your little chirp of that.
"Alright, watch and learn."
Kissing you for the first time that night may well have been the highlight of the decade for him. You had sizzled in the sun and watched his carved muscles drip with sweat for hours as he worked, grunting as he talked you through what he was doing.
With Deran and Cody out scoping a job, Baz at his place with Lena and Cath, J at Nikki's, Smurf at her usual bar and you, not five yards away, ripe for the taking, he had given in and lifted himself slowly from the couch, padding his way silently to your room.
His knock was almost soundless, but enough to stir you with a low moan. The hinge squeaked as he nudged open the door and stalked his way within, watching your eyes flutter open, your face scrunched in confusion. You pushed yourself up on your palms, squinting to try find his figure in the darkness.
"Uncle Andrew..?"
He gave a grunt, continued his slow descent on you, "Go back to sleep."
"Uncle A-"
"Shhh... go back to sleep, I said," he was close enough now that you could see a glint in his eye, the sharp cut of his jaw, the outgrowings of his natural curls. He leaned down then and pressed his lips against yours.
It wasn't pleasant or passionate, soft or sweet. It was just a firm pressure as he considered where to put his hands.
They remained at his side.
Drawing back, he looked into your eyes for a moment before standing straight and turning around, slipping from your room without a word.
The second he had shut the door behind himself, he screwed his eyes shut, guilt swarming his every thought, filling his throat with an acidic burn. He went to sleep on the couch with the intention of never being so selfish and foolish again.
Until he heard a quiet shuffling and felt some foreign weight against his side, sinking the couch's cushion slightly. Cracking an eye open, he found you, still wearing your pretty cami and shorts pyjama set, your cheek pushed up against his tricep, your hands wrapped around his forearm.
"I'm sorry," he gritted out, offering the gentle tap of a fingertip to your thigh.
"I liked it, Uncle Andrew. You could do it again, if you want."
"..No. That's... Not right now, okay?"
With a soft nod and a hum, you nuzzled into his arm and pulled your legs up into his lap, eyes drifting shut slowly.
You spent almost the entirety of the next day in the pool. Pope joined you in the early afternoon, smelling like a thick layer of suncream. You swam over to him and asked if he wanted to play. He just stared at you a moment. Then you splashed him and he broke a smirk, eyes on fire as he shot his hand out to grasp your wrist.
"That's not very nice, sweetheart," he remarked, dry as ever. He gave a quick yank, tugging you through the water. Your chests almost touched, and he stood above you, head tilted down, eyes narrowed slightly, lips pulled up in a smirk. "Let's play something more fun than that."
Eagerly nodding, you smiled up at him as you waited for his suggestion. Then he was hauling you even closer, lifting you as he waded through the water to the pool's edge, depositing you against its wall, a probably not-so-coincidental vent positioned between your legs, the bubbles it produced whirling beneath your crotch.
"Is that good?" Pope was leaning so close to you now, a large palm on your cheek as he stared into your eyes.
"Mmhm.. s'good..."
"Don't move," he said sharply, hand sliding to your hair to give it a light tug to emphasise the point. "This game only has one rule. You can't move."
"Yeah.. y- yeah, okay.."
Watching your eyes flutter, your chest rise and fall with thick breaths, he smirked, shifted closer to impress his body onto yours, giving you not an inch to budge as your back was pressed flush against the cold edge of the pool.
"So good to play with.." he rasped, a heavy, calloused palm skimming up your thigh until he reached those little bikini bottoms, spanning his fingers over the inside of your thigh, fingertips grazing at the sensitive flesh tucked away under your bikini. "You wax?"
"H- huh?"
"No hair."
"Oh.. yes..."
"Don't do that again."
Nodding weakly, your hand shot out to grasp his muscular forearm, a whimper falling from your lips as he snarled and shook his head.
"I said don't move. That was the only rule. I said that." He gritted the words out as if he was genuinely insulted by your transgression, jaw clenched tight. "Naughty girl. Very, very.. bad."
As he spoke, his finger hooked into the gusset of the lower half of your bikini and he tugged it aside, knuckles dragging over your puffy lips as he did so. He held it against the crease of your thigh and stared down at you.
"This was supposed to be an easy game."
He gave no warning before shoving two fingers into your cunt, a gasp leaving you as he touched what only a tampon and your own fingers had before.
"Fu-uck, I'm sorry, Uncle Andy.."
Eyes wide, breaths shallow, he softened somewhat as you called him that. But not enough. He worked his fingers in and out, in and out, then plunged them in with a third as well, hot breaths fanning over your face as he pushed them all the way to the knuckle, groaning through his rough words, "I told you the rule, the one rule, and you broke it. So I have to punish you, don't I?"
"Mm.. mhm..!"
"What do you say, for ruining the game?"
"S- sorry.. I'm sorry..."
Curling his fingers, grinning as he felt your nails sink into the flesh of his wrist, he worked his fingers until your knees were buckling, feet unsteady on the pool's floor, hips canting toward him. Then he pulled his fingers free of your cunt's desparate clamping walls, bringing that same hand up to cup your cheek, gripping the side of your face tight as he pulled your face close to his, a firm kiss pressed to your forehead before he was drawing back.
"I forgive you."
He left you in the pool, whining quietly as you gazed up at him with your best pitiful puppy eyes, readjusting your bikini. He stood above you, atop the edge of the pool, and said nothing else before leaving you in the mess he had made of you.
That night, you sought your revenge. Your father was staying at his own place, leaving Pope to take his room. It was just past midnight when you padded down the hall and shuffled in as silent as possible. You stripped yourself of your little silky pyjamas and climbed into the bed, curling up against him.
"Uncle Andrew.." you mumbled softly, rolling your hips back against his crotch, "Can't sleep.."
He gave a huff, turning his head the other way for a moment. Then he shifted, looking at you with all the distate that he could find no place to harbor within himself for his neice, kicking lightly at your leg as though you were a pesky cat.
With a rough sigh, he hooked his arm around your waist and turned you over to be facing him, dragging you as close as you could be, sliding his hand up and down your smooth back. "Can't sleep, huh?" he rumbled.
"Mm-mmn, I want to play... Please, Uncle Andy, can we play?"
"Fine. Up here," he patted his thigh. "Facing me."
Beaming with your success, you manoeuvred your way into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his hairline as you whispered a string of soft "thank you"s.
Pope encased his arms around your waist, hauled you tight against him, stomachs pressed together, a hand in your hair guiding your face into his throat. He played with your locks with his deft, chubby fingers, grazing them over the nape of your neck. Delivering a gentle kiss to your temple, he whispered, "Go to sleep, sweetheart," and you figured you didn't have all that much choice. You nodded softly, head soon lolling on his shoulder; you may have failed, but you had plenty of time to rectify that all the same.
Waking, you found yourself still in Andrew's arms, albeit a little more comfortably, your two bodies reclined and entwined, drool smeared on your cheek and his shirt, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"Morning.." you mumbled, shifting your palm over his abdomen slowly.
He didn't say anything, dragging his eyes down to find yours. Large hands clamping down on your hips, he pulled you up into his lap once again, smoothing his thumbs over your hips as his eyes trailed over your bare body. "You want to play with Uncle Andrew?" he drawled, moving your hips over his, over the fat bulge that poked your inner thigh, his voice every bit gravelly and rough from what little sleep he had found.
"Mm...hm.." you smiled, a soft nod making him return the expression, albeit a little awkward-looking on his stern face. Lifting your own hands, you pulled your fingers through his hair, pawing at his scalp and neck and cheeks. "You were mean yesterday.."
"Mean, was I?"
"Mhmm.. I wanted to cum."
"Don't always get what we want now, do we?" he tutted, shaking his head. "You ever made yourself cum, sweetheart?"
"Mhm.."
"Yeah? A lot?"
"Mm..."
"A guy ever done that for you?"
"N- no,"
"You lyin' to me?"
"No. I promise."
"Good girl. Open your mouth." When you did so, willing as a baby bird seeking food from its mother, he sat up a little further, moved his hand up to your lips and brushed the pads of his fingers over the soft pink flesh. "So good... such a sweet little thing..." His thumb moved from your chin to your plush bottom lip, pulling it down, sliding up to feel at the gums beneath your teeth. "You smoke, huh?"
"Mmph... so-sometimes..."
"That's very naughty. You shouldn't do that."
"I'm sorry.." the words crumbled into a hum as he jabbed two fingers onto your tongue, sliding them back and forth over its slippery surface until he went too far and you were gagging, eyes welling with tears, the vibrant whites of them tinted with red. He gave a quiet hum, watched you choke on his digits as he shoved them even further down, nudging their way as far back down your throat as they would go.
Then he pulled them out, slapped your hips, grunted. "Off. I need a shower."
"Can I-"
"No. You go get ready."
"For wha-"
"Wear a dress. We're going to the beach."
"Okay," you smiled, leaning down and pushing your lips against the tip of his nose before climbing off his lap, moving to find the pyjamas you'd discarded the previous night.
Andrew watched you bend over to pick up the clothes, biting his lip as the image of your bare ass burned itself into his brain. Tilting his head down, he caught sight of your soft pussy, lips shimmering with your arousal, a smirk dominating his features until you whipped your head around, feeling his stare. His cheeks flushed and he shoved himself up from the bed, trudging into the en suite and leaving the door adjar as he peeled his you-stained shirt over his head.
Figuring he was returning the favour, you paused as you pulled your little tank over your head, ogling the broad expanse of his muscle-swollen back. When he kicked off his shorts, you peered around to try catch a glimpse of him in the mirror, to no avail, but watching him walk toward the toilet, take his cock in his hand and drop his head back with a groan as he let go, had you clenching around nothing.
Half an hour later, Andrew took your small hand in his and pulled you behind him to his truck. He opened the door and nodded for you to step in, climbing up and glancing at him where he stood in the gap between the door and the rest of the car. Grasping the buckle of the seatbelt beside your shoulder, he pulled it swiftly across your torso and leaned in close to plug it in.
Before he shut the door, he held your wide gaze a moment and considered kissing your cheek. He didn't.
You stepped onto the beach, wedged sandals already tucked into the bag that sat on his globular shoulder, sundress flowing in the breeze of the morning, the sand warm and soft beneath your feet. You lay a large towel down on the spot he picked, dropping onto it and reaching into the bag for a bottle of sun cream.
"Want me to do yours?" you offered with a gentle smile and his eyes softened beneath the dark tint of his sunglasses, a quick nod all you needed to start squirting the chilled white liquid onto your palm.
Your hands on his body felt like a kiss from God herself, and he let you take your time under the pretense of not missing a spot, even if you did just want a satisfactory feel of his every inch. When your hands came up to his neck, sliding ever so gently over his Adam's apple and the veins along his throat, he wondered if you took note of his rosy cheeks. You took a second to wipe the greasy substance from your finger tips before plucking at the arm of his sunglasses—noticing that made him smile, if only briefly—and tilted his head back slightly as you hooked the shades into the collar of his shirt, fingers soon spanning his warm face, covering it with a layer of that cold, creamy sun protection.
He rumbled out a 'thank you' once you'd finished, and shot an arm out to pull you between the gap of his spread thighs, taking up the bottle and squirting the cream directly onto your tanned skin, taking ever so much care to ensure your tits were healthy covered, kneading the fat with his fingers and watching your eyes drift shut. Then he moved onto your face, the top of your back, then your legs and feet.
Smelling sufficiently like chemicals, you remained between his thick thighs, back against his chest, head tilted so your cheek was flat against his pec.
"I like the dress," was the first thing he said after a while, the words low and heavy in his throat as he drew little patterns over the loose fabric concealing your midriff, a brief smile passing over his lips as you thanked him quietly.
When an hour or so had passed and you'd begun whining about your hungry stomach, Pope turned you around, sitting up straight and reaching to grasp his pocket knife, a switchblade with a crisp silver handle. In the bulk of his palm, it looked such a small thing, almost pretty, as it glimmered under the light of the sun.
He took an apple from the bag you'd packed with a few fruits and other snacks, carving slowly into it and producing a small slice. From between his fingers, he offered it to your lips and watched intently as your teeth sunk into it. But your eyes remained on the blade in his palm.
"Do you like it?"
Swallowing the slice, a drop of the apple's juice pooling at the corner of your lips, you nodded. His thumb beat your own to swiping it up, guiding it back between your lips. Seeing the window of opportunity, albeit brief, you sucked his thumb between your lips intently and held it there. Andrew chuckled, let you keep it a moment before pulling his hand back.
When he showed you the knife more closely, finished with the apple now, you rolled the tip of your finger gently over the engraving on its side which read '2 Corinthians 2:19'.
"What does that mean?" you uttered, voice almost drowned out by the lapping of the waves further down the sand.
"It's a verse," he replied, and watched your expectant little face soften, anticipating some elaboration. "'But he said to me 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.'"
For a moment, you just gazed up at him, before blinking, "I didn't know you were religious," and that had him breathing out a half laugh and half scoff, shaking his head as he mused, "Why'd you think everyone calls me Pope, then?"
"Hm.. I dunno," you shrugged and he chuckled, pulling you close until the soft fabric of your sundress grazed the rough jeans hugging his thighs.
"Do you like my knife, baby?"
"Mhm.."
"You wanna feel it?"
"Will it hurt?"
"No. Not unless you want me to make it hurt."
"Um.." he watched your cheeks flush, your gears turn, before you shook your head softly, uttering a low 'okay' and flipping the blade out again. Your eyes dropped to the sharp tip, the clean edge, and he smirked, biting his lip as his free hand grasped at the hem of your skirt, pulling it up ever so slightly, holding it against your thigh.
The blade kissed your knee and your breath hitched, pupils blown as you stared at it. Pope dragged it along your inner thigh, eyes jolting between the blade to make sure he wasn't applying too much pressure, and your face to make sure you weren't uncomfortable.
"Maybe you want one of your own, hm?"
Such an offer had your eyes widening, jumping up to latch onto his, hopeful. You gave a quick little nod. "Yes, please. A pretty one."
"Alright. A pretty one. Like you."
Giggling at that, you leaned forward and brushed your lips over his own, smiling as he spoke against your mouth, "How 'bout a gun? Mm? You know how to use a gun, baby?"
When you shook your head, pulling back and grinning as you proudly claimed, "But I've played loads of Call Of Duty with Deran," he puffed out a laugh and countered quickly, "Not sure it adds up like that. I'll teach you, though. Gotta be able to protect yourself."
"Okay. Thank you, Uncle Andy."
"Of course, honey."
It was a week later that the package arrived at the Cody house. A small brown box that Andrew snatched out of the delivery driver's hands and signed for hurriedly, taking it through to the garage where he set aside the rest of his day to etch a verse into the silver side of the handle. The rest of the handle was made up of a shimmery pearl that he wished more than anything you would find 'pretty', and on the slender blade was an almost lace-like trim along the dull edge, your name engraved at the bottom of it.
He handed it to you that night, sat together out by the pool, biting at his lip as he watched you gingerly pull out the blade, your eyes softening as they fixed on the little details. It wasn't until you were in your bed, playing with the dainty thing, that you noticed the engraving, frowning at the unfamiliar words.
Song of Songs 4:7
A quick Google search had you pouting at the knife, eyes swollen with tears as the words lodged themselves somewhere deep within you:
'You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you.'
Pushing yourself up from your bed, you enclosed the blade and slotted it into your baggy hoodie's pocket, silently making your way to Andrew. You found him stiff on the couch, watching yet another safari documentary. Sniffling, you rounded the furniture and slid into his lap, burying your face in his neck as you wept out a "Thank you, Uncle Andy..."
"Why are you crying, baby? Is it not pretty enough?"
"It's beautiful, just- no one's ever been this nice to me,"
Those quiet little words, sobbed out into the shoulder of his shirt, had his heart squeezing beneath his ribs, his entire body easing slightly as he wrapped his arms around you and cradled the base of your skull in his palm. "Don't cry... Please."
That word shoved its way from his thick throat as his hands slid over your shoulders and hair and waist and held you as close as two people could be. When you withdrew from your little burrow in the crook of his shoulder, lifting your watery eyes to meet his gaze, you found him frowning. His hands came up to embrace your cheeks, drawing your face in until there was no air parting you, lips joining.
Flicking his tongue out, he ran it over the seam of your lips before drawing back slowly. "Come on," his voice was gentler than it had ever been as he stood from the couch and held you tight against his front, walking slowly down the hall to your room, dropping you down onto the edge of the bed and hovering semi-awkwardly a few inches away, stood between your legs, cupping your cheek as globs of silvery tears dribbled down your cheeks and kissed the crease of flesh between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. "Oh, my girl... so pretty when you cry. So pretty. What do you want Uncle Andy to do? What can I do?"
"Stay with me... stay- please don't leave me..."
"Not even God could make me leave you," he ground out, thumb smoothing over your lips. "Do you understand?"
"Mhm.."
"No one's ever going to take you away from me. I promise. I promise, baby."
Pope took up more than half of your bed when he settled himself onto mattress, drawing you close, watching how you curled up against his side, how your hand drifted up under the shirt he wore, how your cheeks still shone with the tracks of your tears. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrow, his dick harder than it maybe ever had been, his fingers sharp and biting into your shoulder.
"Look at me," the words were rough and had your head tilting back, eyes crawling up and crossing with his. "Do you believe me?"
With a soft nod, you drew your hand around to secure a grip on his obliques. "I believe you."
"Good girl."
It was almost three weeks later that Pope drove the two of you out to a forest, his hand unmoving on your thigh as he steered into the small car park and pulled up.
"Ready, honey?" when his question was met with a little nod, he finally peeled his hand from your leg to reach over the centre console and tug open the glove compartment, pulling out a sleek black case. He tucked it under his arm and pushed his way out of the truck, rounding the front and opening your door, a hand held out that caught yours and didn't release it until you were deep in the forestry, birds chiriping around you, the air thick and sweaty.
He pulled his hand away and knelt in front of the fallen log you'd sat yourself on, opening the case to reveal a sleek black handgun that almost disappeared entirely in his big hand, the barrel reading Staccato CS, the usual star logo clinging to the grip.
"Okay, baby, before we start.. You sure you wanna do this?"
"Mhm," you nodded, elbows on your knees and your chin in your palms as you looked down at him.
"Alright, good girl. Now can you show me which parts you know?"
You started with the easy stuff as he held it up loosely, pointing to the trigger, the barrel, the hammer, the grip, the mag.
"Aren't you a little pro?" he chuckled, nudging his free hand against your knee. Then he pointed to something on the back of the grip, tilting his head, "You can't tell me what this is?"
For a moment, you squinted as you thought, eventually shaking your head softly.
"Okay. That's the grip safety. What that means is, without a proper grip, it's not gonna fire. Alright?"
"Mhmm."
"Then we got another safety here," he told, turning it slowly to display the little notch along the left side of the barrel. He pushed his thumb down against it, rumbled, "Safety's off when it's down, and on when it's up. You got that?"
"Yeah. Down, off, on, up."
"Yeah, perfect." He patted the case on the log next you, continued, "Now, I have a few optics we can try if you want, which would help if you're shooting from more of a distance. But we're gonna try it without first, okay?"
"Okay."
"Am I goin' too fast?"
"Mm-mnn,"
"Good girl. Any questions?"
"Can I hold it?"
"So eager," he remarked, nodding slowly and flicking the safety notch back up before offering it to you. "How do you like the grip?"
"Um.. good."
"And the weight?"
"It's light."
"Uh huh, s'just a little thing like you, something for you to conceal carry; gonna get you a permit for that, so it can go right in your purse. You ready to shoot it?"
Your focused expression broke at that, a sparkling grin exploding across your face as you shot up off the log and tugged Pope to his feet. He quickly snatched the gun out of your grasp and leaned close to warn lowly, "Hey, don't go getting all excited, this isn't a toy, baby."
"I know, I'm not stupid," the eye roll and giggle that you supplied the words with did nothing at all to assuage Andrew's concerns. Tucking it into the back of his pants, he threw his hand out, caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks with a tight grip.
"Not calling you stupid, I'm just saying, this isn't a game. And you're not touchin' this gun again till you treat it with the respect it deserves." By the glare he gave and the rough drag of his words through the air, you understood his apprehension, frowning as you shuffled forward and looked up at him.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Andy, I'm just excited.. I promise I won't be silly with it."
"Alright, good," he nodded, giving your forearm a squeeze before slackening his hold and guiding you to a clearing in the trees.
Standing in front of him, you felt his heavy boot kick lightly at the inside of your foot, shifting your stance a little further apart before glancing back at him. He offered a small smirk, pressed a kiss to the helix of your ear and turned you by your shoulders. "Look at the tree, that's your target."
"Can I have it now?"
"Impatient thing.." he muttered, pulling the gun out of its place tucked under the waistband at the back of his jeans, guiding it into your palm, biting his lip as he leaned over your shoulder and watched you take aim. "Two hands, come on, you're not a gangster."
With a mumbled complaint about his bossiness, you relucted, wrapping your left hand around the grip as well. "Is that better?"
"That's perfect. Now, it's gonna have a little kick when you shoot, but it shouldn't be too jumpy, alright?"
"Mhmm.. Can I do it now?"
"You know this attitude isn't helping you one bit, right? Just straighten up, breathe — slow and deep, all the way to your belly — and when you exhale, shoot. Got it?"
"Got it."
Taking a series of deep, slow breaths, you squinted one eye shut to better focus on the little ironsights, giving the trigger a tight squeeze. The hammer jolted back slightly and the pop of the shot had you flinching, adrenaline trembling your fingers. Eyes bright, you turned back to your uncle quickly, "Did you see that?"
"I saw."
"Was it good?"
"It was... y- uh.. hm.." he nodded, leaning back on his heels as he became all too aware that his cock had chubbed at least to a semi. "Do it again."
You cleared three mags in less than ten minutes with Pope's help, who practically clung to your back and watched intently as you shot.
It was truly a wonder he'd yet to fill his boxers with a load of hot cum.
Once you'd emptied the fourth and final mag, Pope was practically grinning, pulling you over to his truck, lifting you up into the bed on its tail-end and climbing in after you. You drifted into his lap, an instinct, almost, by now, beaming as you smeared your lips over his cheeks.
Underneath you, your uncle rasped out, "You know how sexy that was? Hmm? Feel, baby... feel what you did to me," grasping your wrist tightly, he pulled your hand to his crotch, grunting as your fingertips brushed over his denim bulge.
Eyes wide and sparkling, you gazed down at him, letting him use your hand to get himself off, his lip under his teeth as his hips rutted up against your palm.
"Gonna have to teach you to use that knife, too..." he muttered, brows pinching and nose scrunching as he lifted his eyes, fixed them on you. "Yeah?"
"Yeah.." you nodded softly, biting your lip as your panties became undeniably soaked, hearing him whimper and push his face into your neck. You squeezed your fingers around the thick, throbbing shaft of his cock, still hiding beneath his jeans. "Uncle Andy, I-"
Withdrawing from your neck, his heavy breaths dragged down your cheek until he was closing his lips in on yours, kissing you like his life depended on it. He shifted you on his lap, securing a grip on your waist and laying you down in the truck bed, grinding his hips between the gap in your thighs as he gasped and panted, squeezing his eyes shut.
Your fingers curled in his hair, scratched at his scalp, and you grinned at the sound of the whine he released, humping you like a dog as he held you down.
"So good, baby... so, so good... jus- ahh.. shh-fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum-"
After a few more thrusts of his hips, he was groaning, dropping his head forward, burying his face among the tits that nearly spilled out of your top, a hand instinctively shooting up to grasp something for purchase—that being your throat. His grip so tight that you were gasping, clawing at his wrist after just a few seconds, tears bubbling in your eyes as he filled the crotch of his jeans with a thick load of cum, grunting and growling, still thrusting wildly against you.
Only when his movements stilled did he look up at you, finding his own hand clamped around your neck, your face red and your eyes swollen with tears as you choked on a gasp.
"Baby- fuck," he released his hold and pulled you up instantly. "I'm sorry.. I'm sorry, baby... I didn't mean to- Don't cry, please, don't cry..."
"S- s'okay.." you croaked out, smiling up at him. "That was hot."
"Jesus..." he groaned out a sigh of relief, shaking his head. "Next time, stop me before you start suffocating."
"Mmm.. really, it's okay, Uncle Andy. I liked it. And I liked watching you cum in your pants like a teenager."
Throwing his head back with a strange hybrid of a groan and a laugh, he slapped your thigh and remarked, "You're a little freak, huh?"
Rolling your eyes, you prodded his arm and countered in a giggle, "No, I just like watching men get stupid for me."
"Careful. Don't make me punish you."
It was easy enough to heed his words while he drove, a hand on your thigh as he sped back to the house, but as soon as you both had slipped into your bedroom back at the compound, you couldn't resist the temptation anymore.
"Are they crusty yet?" you cooed.
"Huh?" he was frowning as he looked up from the boots he was unlacing, watching you sit among your pretty silky sheets, giggling.
"Your cummy jeans."
Snarling, Andrew rose up to his feet, towering over your.
"Uh oh.." you teased, biting your lip as you gazed up at him. As he strode toward the bed, you shuffled back, gasping when his hand shot out and caught your ankle, pushing your leg up until your toes pointed to the ceiling.
"Yeah, uh oh is right," with a scoff, he was tugging you toward him, until your ass almost hung off the bed, releasing his grip on your foot only to clamp it down on your waist, turning you over before you could even think to protest.
"Think you're so funny, don't you?" he growled, wasting no time in thrashing his palm against your thigh, the flesh rippling with the impact, a squeal escaping you, suppressed in the linens. "I try to do a nice thing, teach you... make sure you're able to protect yourself... fucking- make sure you're not gonna be raped or murdered by some asshole..."
His palm fell down again, harder this time, you thought, and you bit your lip to keep from wailing, writhing, pleading him to stop and go harder all at once.
"And what do I get? An ungrateful little girl who- nngh, who doesn't know when to quit,"
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." you whimpered, though your cunt pulsed as if to object that entirely, dripping and soaking the lace of your panties. "Please, please, I'm sorry..."
You didn't know when the tears began, somewhere between the third and fifth strike of his palm on the crease between your ass and thigh as he gripped the fabric of your pretty little sundress and pinned it just above the dimples at the small of your back.
"Was that so hard?" he scoffed, smoothing his palm over the rosy, warm flesh as he gave a quick tug to your hair and forced your head back, teary eyes joining with his glare.
"I'm sorry.. I was only teasing, I thought- I'm sorry," your expression was near frantic now as you scrunched your hands up in his jeans. "I'm sorry, Uncle Andy..."
"Shhh.. oh, baby," he frowned, dropping onto the edge of the bed and watching your face contort as he pulled you up into his lap, cradling you against his chest, your tummies touching. "I'm sorry," he almost choked on those words, shaking his head as your tears streamed down the apples of your cheeks. "I just had to show you, had to-"
"Don't leave me," your breaths were as panicked as your eyes now, clawing their way from your swollen throat as you clenched your fingers into his shirt, fisting the cotton tightly. "I'll never- never do it again, I'm sorry."
"It's okay, baby... it's okay... Just don't cry."
"I'm sorry.. please, Uncle Andrew-"
"Shhh.. shhh," his palms engulfed your face, fingers tense under your jawline as he forced your head back, his eyes intent and sharp. "I'm here, not going anywhere. Alright? Not going anywhere..."
"Mm... m'sorry, didn't mean to-"
"Shhhhhh.. now, just shush... I'm here."
"Please, please, Uncle Andy..."
Quickly pushing his thumb between your lips, he watched your eyes ease up, his cock twitching as he felt you suckle on the digit eagerly, little hands clamped tight around his wrist. "M'sorry, m'so sorry.." you moaned against his thumb.
"You learn so fast, baby," he uttered, stroking back your hair with his free hand. "Didn't wanna hurt you, you know? Just had to teach you.."
"Mm.. mhmm.."
"Good girl. My good girl."
Though Smurf could give her sly looks and cruel comments, and your dad became as avoidant to this as any of his countless other issues, you became shamelessly attached to Pope. Whenever he wasn't working, you were at his side, holding onto a large arm and giggling at his sardonic remarks, following him into his shower, pulling him into your bed and leading his hand between your legs, always telling him how much you loved him, how you would break if he left you.
He lived for it, in all honesty, and not just the sweet parts. He liked when your infatuation became ugly, too. One time because you caught a girl eyeing him, threatening to scalp her and feed her her own guts as he held you back with ease. Another time because he said he would be back to you at 3pm and it was really 3:06. He found you in your bedroom at the house, shattered glass on the floor and scratches on your arms, hair unkempt and tears drying on your cheeks.
"My crazy little bunny.." he would coo, wrapping you up in his arms and holding you tight. "It was only traffic, sweetheart."
"Mmm.. I'm- I'm sorry, I just- I don't know what happened," you weep into his shoulder because really and truly at this moment, you have no idea what came over you. When you're back with him, everything else shrinks and sinks all the way down to nothing, but without him, with the fear that he's gone—gone gone, not coming back, like so many people you've previously known—you can't bear your own company, your own flesh.
"I know," he nods, cupping your cheeks and holding them tight as his eyes impress themselves upon yours. "I understand, sweetie."
The best thing? He really does. Whatever is wrong with you, you think, is also whatever is wrong with him. You were simply made for each other.
On your docile days, there are times that all you want to do is sleep, which Pope really can't stand because too much stillness unsettles him, but for you, he would endure Hell, so he figures what's a day in bed with the little love of his life?
He especially doesn't mind it when you're so sleepy that he can trace a fat finger through your folds and you don't even rouse. So, naturally, he has to test just how comatose you are. That's how he ends up hovering over you, shaky breaths falling onto your face as he holds back from cumming already, having only wedged his large, leaking tip into you.
Then he starts to get a little annoyed because he's pushed all of it in, holding back as best he can as he thrusts in and out, in and out, and you're still just sleeping. So with a few light slaps to your cheeks he watches your eyes flutter open. "Mm.. go'way, tired..."
"Don't you tell me to go away," he'll snarl at that, gripping your hips tight and withdrawing slowly, slamming in hard.
You let out a little squeak and mewl, "But I'm tired.."
"Shut up and take it."
By the end, you're more than awake, you're invigorated, practically bouncing in his lap as you kiss all over his face. "You always know what I need, Uncle Andy, thank you! Can we do it again? Oh please, please can we? I'll be really good, Uncle Andy.."
"Ugh.. what happened to my sleepy girl? Where did she go?"
"Please, pleaseee! At least let me suck your dick!"
"Alright, help yourself.."
"Mm, yay! Thank you!"
And so you shuffle down the bed and set yourself up between his thighs, pumping his cock, still damp from your juices, until it's dauntingly hard. Before you even lick it, you're rubbing your face all over it, breathing in the scent of your twangy release atop his musky sweat. Soon enough, you've taken the tip between your lips, making out with it just as you do his lips, moaning as you do so, hips jumping up and down, seeking some friction against his shin.
Andrew holds your head, but doesn't force you any further down, content to let you work it however you like, head tipping back as you coat his sturdy length with your spit, appreciating how your little moans and hums vibrate down to his balls where your fingers are playing.
Sometimes, when he's feeling bold enough to go along with one of your plans, the two of you end up on the couch for a 'movie night'. Well, he's on the couch and you're on his lap as a monotone narrator talks over footage of a lioness teaching her young to hunt.
It's not long before you get distracted, either fiddling with his belt or rolling your palms over his stomach and chest or attaching your lips to his neck. It was one of those days where, no matter what he or you seemed to try, his cock remained uncooperative. Thankfully, you seemed to like those days very much, stuffing your hand into his pants and massaging your 'little friend' just for the sake of it.
"You know that's not going to work," he grunts as you move to do so, his eyes firmly fixed on the TV.
"Do you want me to stop?" you tilt your head back to pout up at him, beaming as soon as he shakes his head. "And you should know by now, I like your little guy even when it's soft. Actually, I think it's cute, like my own little fidget toy."
"Uh huh. He ain't little."
"He?"
"Yes, he. And he isn't little."
"No.. I guess he's not. But I don't know, I've only seen yours."
"And it's staying that way."
"Mhmm. You sure I can touch it?"
"Yeah, go ahead, honey. Just don't.. expect nothing."
A whole week later and Andrew is furious at his cock's apparent shyness, having not hardened since the day before your movie night together. He drops a viagra into his morning coffee and chugs it in one. Then he forgot about it, offered you to join him on a hike.
Halfway up the trail, he was straining against his jeans as he tugged you a little way out of the public path, despite not really caring if anybody saw. He shoved you against a tree, flipped your skirt up and released the red-hot beast from his jeans, wasting no time before ramming it into your hole, clamping his palm over your mouth to muffle your wail.
"Ease up," he groans, but doesn't slow or wait, thrashing his hips into yours. Soon enough, his front is curled against your back as he pounds as deep as he can go, sounding purely animal in your ear as a few final shaky thrusts had his cum spurting into your womb. "Ohhh my girl.. Mine, mine... My girl.."
He doesn't even stop, though, cock not softened in the slightest by the time you've both fallen to the ground and his whole body is covering yours as he growls and ruts into you, mouthing oh so sweetly at your round, red cheeks while he shoves two large digits against your tongue to quieten your pathetic pleas and moans.
After about four rounds, he's barely down to a semi but you're completely worn out, hence his carrying you back down the hill bridal style, smirking down at you, muttering, "Still not done... Hear that, baby? Gonna fuck you all day, I promise. You earned it, being so good and waiting for me."
You're barely cognitive, head lolled back against his bicep as you nod weakly, "Whatever you want..."
"That's a good girl," he hums proudly, pressing the softest of kisses between your brows. "The best little girl, aren't you?"
—a/n:
thank you so so much for reading, i know ive slacked asf with this and im terribly sorry for that, i just started so many other wips and didnt realise it took THREE MONTHS FOR THIS?!?! so so so sorry for that actually
i know i said itd be a few days but i sort of kinda beta read it just now and remember how long it is already so im gonna leave it as this! and maybe do a part two? idk ill prob work on my current wips before that
also if theres any warnings that arent met or any that should be included, pls lmk, im leaving it as is for now cause i cba nitpicking with how late it is
anyway yh i really hope u freaks (compliment) enjoyed this!!!!
