So, I haven't done a proper introductory post, and now that I've posted a few fic-things, I thought I'd compile a masterlist!
First thing's first, I'm Emily <3 I'm 23, and I live in Australia.
Aside from The Pitt, I love reading, knitting/crocheting, spending time in libraries and cafes, wandering aimlessly with my headphones on, and writing (I hope to be an author one day.)
My ask box is always open, whether you have a request, a headcanon you want to yap about, or simply if you'd like to stop in and have a chat <3
Below, you'll find my masterlist. Currently, I only write for Jack Abbot and Michael Robinavitch. In time, I am hoping to expand and include other characters in The Pitt, and maybe venture out into other fandoms I'm part of!
I have had Pope on the mind so much recently, and I have also been have a shit time at work recently. So I wrote this, on company-branded notebook paper, during work hours. Hope this is coherent? And go easy on me, I've only, like, eight episodes of Animal Kingdom.
WARNINGS: Literally just porn. 18+ MDNI. Period sex???
"You need this?" His question was a low rasp, punctuated by the torturous grind of his crotch against your cunt. Separated only by denim and cotton, you were already half-gone at the friction.
Breathless, you nodded, hands roaming over warm skin, over the valleys and ridges of toned muscle. He was steady and malleable beneath your desperate reaching. Yours.
Immovable reassurance after the shitshow of a say you'd had. Shitshow of a month, really.
"Alright, alright." Husky and quiet, the faintest trace of amusement in his tone. "I know, I know. I got it, I got you."
---
His rough hands held you steady, guiding every rut of your hips as you rode him. Mouth agape, eyes screwed shut, you whimpered and moaned and cried out his name.
There was a tremor of frustration in your movements, like you were chasing, chasing, chasing a feeling. But you couldn't quite get there.
Knees digging into the mattress, you tilted your head back, hands drifting to your tits, toying with your sensitive nipples. Groping and grasping and squeezing.
"Andrew," you sighed, on the verge of tears as you looked down at him. His dark gaze, the tight set of his jaw as he watched you, brows furrowed slightly.
He was trying to get a read on you, trying to figure out what you needed and how to give it to you.
His groin gleamed with your slick, tinted with smears of blood. He didn't care, never had, but seeing it made you roll your eyes. Of course, just another fucking thing.
Without waiting for another frustrated whimper, Pope manoeuvred you until you were beneath him. His elbows sunk into the mattress on either side of your head; he was so close his nose brushed the tip of your own.
He wiped your tears away with the pad of his thumb. "Hey, hey, don't cry. Don't cry."
He kissed the wet smears the tears had left behind, tasting the salt on his tongue as he slid back into you.
As he bottomed out, you made the quietest, weakest sound. A little like relief, and your wide-eyed gaze locked onto his. Pleading and thankful.
"Yeah?" He whispered, pressing his lips to yours. Once, twice. "My baby, hm?"
Nodding, your bottom lip trembled as you reached for him, pulling him down until he was pressed flush against you. It shoved him just that tiny bit deeper.
Your felt yourself gush around him, felt it leak down between your thighs, pooling beneath you.
"Sorry," you mumbled against his lips.
"For what?" Pope frowned, nipping at your jaw.
"The mess."
Pope just shook his head, pulled out a little, then thrusted back in. "Don't worry 'bout it, sweetheart. Doesn't matter."
And when you sniffled, whimpering his name, he just nodded, hushing you with a kiss as he picked up his rhythm.
Thrusting and retreating until you trembled beneath him, clawing at him as though he were an anchor. He lost count of how many times you whispered 'please.'
----
ANYWAY!!! Hope you liked this. I'm hoping to get back into writing soon <3
closed my eyes to go to sleep and was suddenly struck by the image of jack abbot spitting on your pussy and smirking, saying something filthy, and then burying his tongue inside you send tweet and goodnight
play fighting with him where he tells you to run only to catch you and you keep struggling to get out of his grasp only for him to hold you down tight and watching you go from fighting him to loving the way he makes you feel and eventually giving into him, that kind of submission has him rock hard in his pants
[WHIMPERS] [MOANS] [KISSING NOISES] [BREATHLESS] “TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT” [KISSING NOISES AND WHIMPERS] “DO YOU LIKE THAT” [MOANS] [PANTS] “MY GOD YOURE SO PERFECT” [WHIMPERS] [KISSING NOISES] “GOD I WANT YOU SO BADLY” [MORE KISSING NOISES AND WHIMPERS AND MOANS]
Me walking into work with my iced coffee looking like someone who just got laid well but I’ve just been listening to Yes Chef on repeat since I woke up.
DROP DOWN TO HIS KNEES ? DRAG HIS FINGER DOWN THE THIN FABRIC BETWEEN UR THIGHS ? FEEDING U THE FUCKING PASTA ? THE WHIMPERS ? TELL ME WHAT U WANT ? FEELING UR NIPPLE THROUGH UR BRA ?? FUCK.
