I decided to make a pinned post with links to each of my individual master lists for you all! Naturally, I will be beefing this post up over time, but for now, hopefully this will make life a little easier for those looking for certain posts!
NSFW 18+ Jack Abbott x Wife!Reader: Weddings bring out the worst in Jack, and he cannot keep away from you.
Needy Jack, flirty Jack, Smut, PinV, fingering, dirty talk, shameless flirting, established relationship, married couple, pining/yearning, dark humor, Jack loves his wife a stupid amount
Jack had been close to you all throughout the wedding. You had been invited to a wedding by one of his work colleagues, and you were glad the pair of you would get a chance to show up to something not dressed casually in jeans or Jack in his scrubs.
Perhaps it was the atmosphere, the wedding romance, the nostalgia of your own wedding day, or even how you had glammed up a little and wore a dress bought specially for the occasion. You weren’t sure, but it had driven Jack mad with the need to be close to you, to continuously hold your hand, kiss your knuckles, your blushing cheeks or lips (at one point you had to wipe Jack’s mouth of the red transfer your lipstick made on him).
He was determined to be glued to your side, every moment of the day, fawning over you. Weddings turned Jack into a mushy and pining force of nature. After the third dance of the evening, you and Jack decided to retire and get an uber home.
On the ride home, you leaned against Jack, hazy and tired from the day, yet a content smile spread across your face as Jack kept a firm hold of your hand on his thigh, his thumb brushing you knuckles lovingly.
Whilst Jack opened the front door, you took off your heels, your feet warm and aching against the concrete of the path. Jack let you in first before entering the house at the back of you. You could feel his eyes on you, the unspoken notion that he wanted you and was waiting for the right moment.
You padded into the kitchen where you took a few sips of water to clear your head of the day’s exhaustion and the several flutes of champagne you had had. Jack’s footsteps slowly approached you as you stood by the sink, sipping the dregs of your water. Just as you set the glass down and were about to turn and face your husband, you felt his hands cup your elbows from behind, and brush upwards to your soft biceps.
“Just stand there for me” Jack mumbled into the crook of your neck and shoulder, lips fluttering over your ear.
Flashes of your own wedding night raced across your mind; how the moment you got into the honeymoon suite, Jack couldn’t keep himself from you. You wager that almost two days passed before you put clothes back on, how Jack earned himself the bedroom nickname of ‘Abbott the Rabbit’ and subsequently where several dark jokes made by Jack about losing his ‘lucky rabbit foot’ stemmed from.
You were brought back to the present when you felt your husband’s fingers gingerly skimming the sides of your arms before lowering to your hips and waist, sliding the fabric of your dress up to bunch a little at the back. Using his front, he pressed the hem of your skirt between you both to keep it up and away from your exposed backside.
“Jack” You sighed as you turned your head a little into him, his silver curls brushing your nose and lips as you pressed into him, kissing his temple.
“Let me take care of you” Jack muttered as he lay an open mouthed kiss to your shoulder. “Please baby…you’ve looked so beautiful all day…I can’t hold back anymore.”
He felt you shudder a little, knowing fine well that anything to do with your shoulders and neck was an instant yes for physical affection, it was your weak spot.
You had to agree with a similar sentiment; all day Jack had looked utterly gorgeous to you. Dressed in his suit, smart and handsome, your husband. It was indeed a miracle neither of you gave in during the reception and disappeared to a secluded spot to act on your mutual yearning.
Jack continued to lavish you with kisses and little nips of the teeth, all the while you felt his fingertips skirting around the elastic of your underwear. He had hooked his index and middle finger into your left leg hole, and was running it back and forth, back and forth.
“Jack” You said, a little more frustrated and needy as your husband continued to skirt around you. Toying and teasing.
“M’sorry” He smirked knowingly into you. “Lemme get these outta the way.” He said with an apologetic kiss to the shoulder.
Jack bent a little at the knees, ignoring the chaffing ache that had set in nearly two hours ago where his prosthetic rubbed a little into him. He bent just enough to reach under you and slide his fingers down the elastic of your underwear to rest just beside your aching middle. Already he could feel how slick with need you were, the fabric of your underwear evident with your arousal.
It immediately made Jack step forward and press his groin into your backside, all the while exhaling your name. The moment he knew you were as turned on as him, it was like a switch flicked in his brain. Jack was just as bad as you, just took him a little longer to crack. But almost always, Jack cracked first.
“Fuck you’re so wet already” Jack hummed as he pushed his fingers across the threshold.
You gasped as you felt Jack’s large fingertips press along your most intimate of areas, stroking you under your underwear. You gripped the countertop, practically white knuckling it as Jack slowly touched you.
“God you’re perfect” Jack said as he chewed his lower lip, trying to contain the immediate urge to rush it all, pull everything down and fuck you.
“More…please Jack…more, I need more of you.” You whined a little, it almost made you cringe the way you pathetically pined for Jack like a horny teen at your age, but Jack adored it.
Despite being married for years now, Jack adored the way you pined as equally for him as he does for you, like it was your first time all over again.
“Just a little more…you can hold it a little longer baby…I know you can” Jack grumbled into you, his warm breath huffing over the delicate shell of your ear.
You bit your lip as Jack continued to rub and stroke his fingers through you, savoring the velvety slickness as you grew more and more turned on by his teasing. He toyed at your entrance, and dipped his fingers in only an inch or so. As your body reflexively tightened around his digits, hips rubbing and bucking, searching for relief in any way, Jack practically chewed up the inside of his cheek with how you responded to him.
“You want me to keep going like this?” Jack eventually cooed, emphasizing his point by pressing his fingertips into you again.
“Or pull your underwear to the side and fuck you?” He impishly smirked against your skin, knowing fine well it was stupid of him to even ask given how you were about to crack a tooth with need.
“FuckSakeJackPlease” you breathed out in one quiet yet harsh demand.
You felt Jack laugh a little at the back of you, vibrating into your spine, and you couldn’t help but breathlessly laugh as well.
“Don’t worry, I gotchu baby. M’all done teasing” Jack said, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your neck.
“Little wider for me” You felt him tap his polished shoe against the inside of your ankle. “Thats it” he hummed in approval as you shuffled your bare feet out across the cool kitchen floor.
You instinctively bent a little further over the counter, exposing more of your ass to Jack, who sighed at the gesture. Jack skimmed his fingers along the side your underwear, effectively pulling the fabric to the side and exposing your slick heat to the cool kitchen air.
Jack took a moment to admire you, selfishly looking at your most intimate parts with such adoration and need. Whilst one hand smoothed across one of your ass cheeks, Jack deftly slid out and unbuckled his belt with a clang, followed by the heady rasp of his fly.
“God you’re so fucken sexy” Jack praised, tucking his bottom lip under his top teeth whilst his thumb circled your ass cheek.
You moaned at the intimate petting, listening to the sound of Jack’s belt buckle clanging as he fetched his stiff cock from his boxers. He was painfully hard by this point, already a bead of precum welled at the tip of his cock as he stroked himself tight and languidly.
He brought himself closer to you, enough to brush the rosy head of his cock through your slickness. Both of you sighed in mutual relief at the sensation, though you felt yourself ache for more.
“Jack…please” You pleaded again, looking over your shoulder at your husband.
He liked when you did that, he liked being able to only see your eyes and the curve of your rosy blushed cheek, how needy you were with just one glance.
“C’mere baby, let me take care of you.” Jack repeated his earlier sentiment as he placed a hand on your exposed hip, whilst the other lined his head up with your entrance.
Slowly, Jack pushed himself inside of you, a strained growl of satisfaction leaving him alongside your sigh. His name left you as all the air was seemingly pushed out of your lungs as Jack filled you. You listened as Jack moaned your name, his body paralleling yours, his forehead dipping to rest against your back between your shoulder-blades as he took a moment to keep it together and not come early.
“Jesus baby…I dunno how long m’gonna last.”
“My how the tables have turned” you breathily chuckled at the irony. “All that teasing back fired huh Abbott?” You said, smug at his short comings.
“How ‘bout I just leave you hanging?” Jack quirked a brow as he began to carefully pull out.
“No no no” You suddenly protested, turning back a fracture and reaching to hold Jack’s wrist whilst his hand gripped your hip. “Finish what you started.”
Jack smirked and took advantage of your face looking back at him, to lean further forward and kiss the corner of your mouth. The wonderful issue in doing so, was that it pushed his cock half an inch deeper into you, nudging the most hidden part of your intimate anatomy that instantly made you wince and moan.
Jack leaned back, held the sides of your waist, and began to move his hips. He pulled back, just enough so his tip remained, before sliding back inside of you. His pace quickened, spurred by the sounds you were making, how you sighed and moaned his name, profanities hissed in desperation.
“Look back at me baby, m’wanna see your pretty face.” Jack mumbled as he let go on one side of your hip to reach forward and comb your hair away, revealing more of your face to him.
Jack loved observing your facial features during sex, how beautiful and sexy you were, chewing your lip, eyes open or closed, brows knitted together or raised in surprise at the pleasure. He loved it all.
“J-Jack…I…Im gonna…Im gonna come” You gasped as you felt the pressure begin to build and wind tight inside you.
“S’good…come baby…I want you to…s’okay, come all over my cock” Jack panted as his hips bucked into you, all the while one of his hands slipped forward from your hip to rub circles across your underwear clothed clit.
“Oh! J-Jack!” Your voice went up an octave, one that Jack knew all too well, it meant the beginning of something wonderful.
“C’mon baby girl, just let it happen…come for me…thats it…thats it” Jack encouraged, trying to keep himself together and let you come first.
You were done for, falling to pieces as Jack fucked you through your orgasm. He watched as you kept you looked over your shoulder to him, yet your eyes squeezed shut as you came. Jack slowed for a moment in his pace, savoring the way your insides hugged and gripped his cock as your orgasm overcame you in waves.
Jack gave you a moment to come back to earth, his fingers still lazily circling around your clit, separated by the thin and utterly wet fabric of your underwear.
“God you’re so fucken sexy” Jack mused as he curled over your back to kiss your cheek.
“M’jack” you mumbled as you felt another orgasm waiting around the corner as your husband continued to lazily fuck you.
“Don’t worry, m’close too” Jack reassured.
Steadily, Jack crept up the pace of his thrusts, until the sound of his hips slapping into your backside echoed through the house, paired with your mewls and cries of overstimulated pleasure. Your brain was a mess with only Jack at the core of it, his name the only thing you could think to say as he continued to rut into you.
“F-Fuck, fuck baby m’gonna come” Jack grunted and huffed through his teeth, his fingers leaving your clit to match his other hand as he gripped onto your hips.
You gripped the countertop and pushed yourself back a little to meet with each of Jack’s thrusts, deepening the pleasure. Jack couldn’t hold himself together any longer after that, the thread snapped, and he pressed deep inside of you as he came. Your name left your husband in a strangled moan, repeated swiftly like a breathless prayer, then silence as you both panted and attempted regain some sort of composure.
“I love this dress” Jack suddenly broke the silence, and the sound of your exhausted laughter under him, made him grin like an idiot and laugh with you.
“And here I thought it was your wife in the dress you loved.” You chuckled sarcastically.
“She’s pretty great too.” Jack smirked between peppering kisses across your back and shoulders.
“I’ll be sure to wear it next time we get invited to a wedding.” You mused as you closed your eyes, melting under Jack’s soft lips and stubbly against your shoulder and neck.
Please please please don’t feed my work (written or art) into ai.
I really cannot stress enough how upsetting this is and how frustrating it is when you spend hours/days/weeks on things, just for people to take it and feed it into ai sites or apps for edits or whatever.
I pour a lot of time and effort (particularly into my fics) and it crushes me to know people will take my stories or drawings without my permission and just tear it apart with ai.
I work as a tattoo artist for a living, and I am CONSTANTLY having to fight against ai and how damaging it is, not just for the industry I work in but as a general practice. Ai is awful, lazy, wrecks the planet, and is just scummy.
Please please please don’t use it, and don’t take other people’s hard work for it. Write your own stories, draw your own artwork.
Some silly drabble fun, please don’t fight or get annoyed - all these thoughts are just my own and are entire fictitious and a bit of playful fun!
-‘Babe’ : It’s just go to, used in ever day scenarios when talking to you, sometimes he’ll say it all soft and sweet when you’re upset.
-‘Smart Girl’ : Mickey likes how clever you are, mostly how in tuned you are to emotions and other people. You pick up on things. He’ll use this also to playfully insult you if you question a movie theory of his. ‘Let’s hear your thoughts then Smart Girl?’
-‘Princess’ : You hate this one, and Mickey loves it for that reason. He’ll use it when you’re being moody or perhaps in an silly argument with Mickey. It’s always going to make you flushed with frustration. ‘What’s the matter princess?’ or ‘Does princess need some help?’
-‘Bunny’ : Mickey’s favorite during playful/sexy times. He’ll usually coo or whisper this to you whilst teasing you/edging you. ‘There’s my lil bunny’ or ‘Such a cute little bunny’ . You hate how easily your body reacts to the term ‘bunny’ as in any other situation it would make you cringe.
-‘Beautiful’ : ‘Hey Beautiful’ is Mickey’s flirty way of greeting you, usually first thing in the morning when he opens his eyes to you, but shall also say it when you sit next to him whilst he wraps an arm around you.
-‘Pissy’ or ‘Miss Pissy’ : Basically when you’re being irritable or snapping at Mickey, perhaps he’s gotten on your nerves or is taking too long to do something. ‘Calm down Pissy, Im doing it!’
Andrew 'Pope' Cody x Reader: Pope and you share a bath. Nuff said.
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Fluffy married couple vibes. Mentions of light injury (Pope has been at MMA/Cage practice and has a few bruises), nudity (obviously), comfort, slight hints of self image issues, impostor syndrome.
Enjoy my loves!
Pope had come home from the gym and a rigorous sparring session that left his muscles aching and his fists tingling from repeated impact on the punching bags and opponents.
You had disappeared from him as he stood in the kitchen to heartily down several glasses of water. He could suddenly hear the muffled yet hearty glugging sound of the faucets from the bath, several rooms over. Pope curiously sauntered through the house, careful not to brush up against anything as he was painfully aware now of how sweaty he was post workout and spar.
He went into the bedroom where he saw the door to the adjoining bathroom was open, steam already rolling out in thick waves into the bedroom. He approached to the threshold of where the bedroom joined the bathroom, and saw you scooping out some Epsom salts from a bag to infuse the hot water.
"It'll be a ready in a sec." You hummed, sensing Pope's presence but not turning to look at him.
"I didn't ask you to do this." Pope responded, his eyes raking over your body as you crouched down to stir the salts into the rising bath water.
You were wearing flannel pants and a vest top, hardly the look of glamour, but to Pope - you were beautiful. Always beautiful, outside and inside, it was the only time he used the word and meant it in it's full meaning.
"I know, but you need it. Can already see the bruises on your arms and legs." You said, finally looking at Pope and gesturing to his injured limbs.
You looked a little tired, Pope knew you were working extra hours, and despite your repeated efforts to reassure him you were fine, he still could see the work-load baring down. You didn't need to work hard, everything was taken care off; money, bills, food, everything was safe in Pope's control. But still, you always worked hard. It was who you were.
"Get in with me." Pope suddenly said.
"Get in with you?" You repeated with a breathy smile.
When you looked at Pope, he shrugged with half a smirk on his face. You tilted your head to the side, admiring him from your crouched position on the floor.
"Get naked." Pope then said, breaking the silence as he gripped the hem of his shirt before pulling it up and over his head, ruffling his sweaty curls atop of his head.
Despite his confidence, Pope always felt a flicker of anxiety when taking his clothes off in front of you. His collection of scars and the 'sturdy' and 'squat' way he was built may have put you off. He wasn't one to think of himself as particularly attractive or indeed handsome, not in the way his brother's had been complimented. More often than not, a compliment on Pope's physical make up was usually followed by fear or a need to use his strength. Never to be admired.
You look at me like I'm the only man in the world.
Your man. Always yours.
You smirked at his 'pushy' request, despite him trying, Pope could and would never force you to do something you didn't want. He was different with you, you saw a hidden side of Pope, reserved only for you.
As he tossed his shirt into the laundry basket to his side, Pope's narrows eyes glinted as you took off your vest top and sweats, leaving you comfortably naked in his presence. On instinct, Pope reached for you, his hands holding onto yours as he turned you to face him and pull you closer to his body. You smiled fondly whilst watching his curious and hungry eyes, lazily raking over your nude body.
Pope had seen you naked countless times, had explored it in every sense of the word and even still - he looked at you naked like it was the first time witnessing it.
"Beautiful. My beautiful." He mumbled through his lips.
"Easy, think we might need to add some cold water to the bath." you gently teased as Pope pulled you closer to press his body into yours. Immediately you could feel his stirring arousal hidden beneath his shorts.
Pope grunted in response as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, pressing gentle kisses, snuffling a little at your skin, sampling your perfume and warmth. All things that calmed his soul, that tethered him to reality and comfort.
"Lemme turn the faucets off before we flood the place." You chuckled softly, and pushed a little on Pope's chest to reluctantly separate your husband from you.
Whilst you turned the water off, Pope hooked his thumbs into his shorts and underwear and pushed them down to join you in your nakedness. His hand came down to cup himself a little, to try and make his semi a little less noticeable, and not spoil the mood with his urges.
"Get in." You instructed Pope, nodding to the steaming water.
"You don't wanna sit in front?" Pope asked as he swapped places with you, casually watching you as you took the hairtie around your wrist to pull your hair up and off your neck and shoulders.
"M'no." You said, giving him space to step into the bath.
Pope let out a deep exhale of relief as the hot and fragrant bath water enveloped his bruised and tender anatomy. He circled much like a dog looking for a comfy position to sit, before lowering himself down into the depths of the bath.
"Better?" You smugly asked from the side of the bath.
"It will be when you get in." Pope said, amused but slightly pissy as he reached a damp hand to skim his fingers against your leg.
"Scooch." You said and stood up.
Pope made space for you, and held your ankles to help guide you around his body so that his back was flush against your front. Your thighs and calves cradled Pope's sides, all the while his hands rested on a knee cap or your outer thigh.
"Head back baby." Your voice echoed through the bathroom and into Pope's soul, how gentle and loving you spoke to him.
Doing as told, Pope anchored his head back and rested the back of his skull against the right side of your chest and shoulder. He looked up at you, your soft and kind features.
How can you look at me like that.
How can you love me, find me worthy of love
You should have ran by now, you've seen what I am
"My beautiful Andy." You hummed with a fond smile, silencing Pope's inner demons as you leaned to him to press your lips into his forehead as your fingers smoothed and petted his jawline and bicep.
Beautiful. The word uttered from your lips was like a miracle, melting and absolving Pope of all inner turmoil. You were honest and fair, and so full of love, and you fell for him. It baffled him at times, but also made a part of him feel perhaps worthy of love. Capable of it.
"Let me get your hair." You said with a final kiss to Pope's hairline, a slight taste of his salty sweat lingering on your lips as you reached for the shampoo on the shelf up above you both.
Pope sat in comfortable silence as your fingers massaged the floral smelling shampoo into his curls, combing his hair back and thoroughly washing away the sweat and grime from his shift at the gym.
Whilst you washed away the shampoo with water - much like a baptism of sorts - Pope's hands continued to smooth and ghost across your shins and thighs, above and beneath the water's surface. Pope looked up at you again, his hazel eyes glinting under the bathroom's light, signs of a black eye looked to be on the horizon you noted as you met his eyes.
"Gotta put something on that. Should still have some Arnicare in the medicine cabinet." You gently noted, reaching over to carefully skim your middle and index finger across the swollen flesh under Pope's right eye.
"Feels fine." Pope shrugged a little.
"M'kay, we'll leave it." You accepted as you looked away to put the shampoo bottle back up on the shelf.
"Didn't say that." Pope suddenly pouted. He didn't say no to having you fawn and fuss over him with the Arnicare. Pope wasn't going to pass up that oppertunity.
You couldn't help but grin at this, how needy Pope could be. He rarely wanted to be touched or fussed over by others, but any chance he got to be close to you, to have your hands on him, to take care of him and mend him. He craved it, and you knew it.
"Alright baby, we can take a look at it after we get out of here." You said, turning back to Pope who refused to sit back up from leaning his head back against your chest and shoulder.
I want to stay in the bath with you forever.
In your arms forever.
Calling me yours, your perfect and beautiful Andy...please
You sat in silence, soaking up the bath's heat and the healing qualities of the Epsom salts now fully dissolved into the water. You peppered Pope's head, hairline, forehead and temples with kisses, some slow and lingering, others gingerly peppered around his skin. You occasionally squeezed your thighs against either side of Pope's body as he lay between your legs, comforting him to your form.
Eventually you would both extract yourselves from the cooled water, towel off and begin a soft argument about who was cooking dinner (Pope almost always won this argument). But for now, the pair of you lingered in the warm water, touching and cradling one another, washing away the day's toil.
ANGSTY/COMFORT Reader x Kirsh: During the exploration of the Maginot, Kirsh is severely damaged. As chief synthetics technician, it's up to you to repair him, but are you up to the task to repair your friend? Or is it all too much..
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Please be aware this deals heavily with trauma/anxiety/heavy mentions of panic attacks and mentions of sickness/fainting! (if I have missed a tag the needs mentioning, please let me know!)
As always, apologies for the slow uploading schedule for this series, I've been really wanting to just take my time with the ending of this fic, and not rush it!
-Enjoy!
Memory of You
Chapter Eight
You pressed your security code into the lock panel, scanned your handprint, and waited for the doors for the lab to open up. It felt agonizing how slow things moved now, it was all your own perception, as the need to get to Kirsh felt so strong that any time spent waiting only added to your nauseous anxieties.
I have to do this. Regardless of how I feel, I have to know.
I have to see what happened to Kirsh...how he nearly didn't come back.
Finally, with a heavy click and beeping to indicate the doors were open, you entered the lab, eyes already fixated on Kirsh’s bed. Now that the worst was seemingly behind in terms of recovering Kirsh’s data, leaving just the physical and cosmetic repairs – there remained no need to keep a night shift staff of synthetics monitoring Kirsh for updates or improvements.
In a way, you preferred this, as it meant you would have no interruptions, however it left you feeling…sad. On paper, Kirsh was no more than an amalgamation of coding and genius engineering, a collection of parts with a personality. But to you…he was someone. Someone that now lay alone in the middle of the lab, still technically broken.
You approached Kirsh’s resting form, his eyes closed over, hands flat at his sides. Your eyes raked over his anatomy, where his lower synthetic skeletal half had been positioned and already showed signs of being re-connected. The synthetic anatomy was a marvel of technical skill; wires, tubes, artificial muscle, carbon fibre, titanium, sensors, all sculpted into the human form. A skeleton made of machine.
It would only take a few more working days to reconnect Kirsh’s lower half, then, he would be ready for his first layer of artificial skin to coat and cover the wonders beneath. As a synthetic technician, it made you feel slightly forlorn that no one would see what lies beneath the synthetic flesh, or appreciate just how beautiful they were, in their raw and natural form.
Walking and talking sculptures of technical prowess. A modern day Michelangelo if you were to be poetic about it.
Your eyes moved back up from Kirsh’s bare lower portion, up to where his original torso severed off, the flap of skin now trimmed back and tidied up from it’s former shredded mess that Kirsh had arrived in with.
A heavy and purposeful sigh left you, and you knelt under the bed to retrieve the grey plastic sheet that was used to cover Kirsh previously, perhaps discarded during the day to perform the starting points of lower anatomical reattachment. You fetched it, and draped it over Kirsh's unbuilt lower half, giving him some sort of modesty despite the little need for it all things considered.
You lingered for a moment, trying to gather yourself and reason that this needed to happen, that in order to move past everything, you needed to know what happened to Kirsh. Otherwise, you would feel stuck this way, forever spiralling, forever losing sleep to nightmares and the thought of losing Kirsh because of your own incapability to face the truth.
Most of your reasoning however, lay within your enormous sense of guilt. That you weren't there to help him, that you failed several times in trying to repair him, that you could barely speak to him within his first waking moments, and because you couldn't watch the reason for this entire mess. It all piled up, death by a thousand cuts.
With a slight hesitance, your turned your attention to the terminal adjacent Kirsh’s bed. Technically, he didn’t need to use it to communicate anymore, but in order to conserve his systems, it had been advised to shut off Kirsh after certain hours. A medically induced coma so to speak. Until such times as he could function to a standard similar to his synthetic counterparts, this would come after his full body evaluation post reconstruction. Days from now.
You punched in your staff card and typed in the necessary commands. You had done it so many times now it became second nature, and theorized you could input your Prodigy details faster than you could write your own name and date of birth. The terminal came to life, glowing pale blue as it displayed Kirsh’s schematics, all positive, all thrumming and ticking over.
“It’s late.” Kirsh’s modulated voice caught you a little off guard.
You looked at him, his eyes roaming over you as his body lay stiff. In order to re-connect his lower half, it was instructed to shut off Kirsh’s artificial motor cortex, as well as the part of his synthetic brain that would otherwise be considered in humans terms the Basal Ganglia portion of the brain, the section that would intend movement, yet deny sporadic muscle contractions. In simple terms, Kirsh was just a head at the moment whilst the lab staff reconnected his body.
“Apologies.” You replied, your voice stiff and hoarse. You couldn’t remember the last time you had spoke; perhaps several hours ago with Dame and Arthur. Either way, it left you sounding less sure of yourself.
Kirsh looked you over, blinking as he took you in. Already sensing something in you, a purpose that superseded a non-scheduled check up. There was more to this visit.
“Why are you here?” Kirsh asked.
"I...I came to see you." You began, sitting down in one of the rolling chairs beside the terminal, hands clasped between your thighs. "About the Maginot footage."
You didn't look at Kirsh, instead you focused on your hands as their pressed and worried together, fingers locking tightly to try and ward of the trembling. Kirsh blinked slowly at you.
“Arthur had mentioned it.” Kirsh replied. “He also said you were unable to watch.”
“I couldn’t do it.” You shrugged, defeated as you admitted it to Kirsh. “It…it was too much…I couldn’t wrap my head around you being alive-“
“Awake.” Kirsh cut in.
“Awake.” You clarified. “I hadn’t any time to…to digest that…And then to go upstairs and am confronted with watching you nearly die-“
“I can’t die. I’m not a human, I’m-“
“KIRSH ENOUGH!” You snapped, frustrated and already annoyed that you could feel your tears resurfacing. You thought you had gotten it out of your system with Arthur and Dame, and yet clearly it was a never-ending source of torment. “Jesus…fuck.” You cursed and pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, so much so you began to see stars in the blackness behind your eyelids.
"M'sorry...sorry." You mumbled into your hands. "I'm not angry with you. I...I'm just...fuck." Your sentence fizzled out as your attempted to gather yourself.
Kirsh remained silent, though he watched you as you tried to regain some form of composure.
“I did not mean to antagonize you.” Kirsh then said. “I appreciate that this has been…difficult for you. And indeed a labour of hardship.”
You laughed bitterly and rolled your eyes at Kirsh’s attempt to console you whilst you struggled to articulate yourself.
“Use your words. You are clever, and greater than your torment. Why are you here.” Kirsh said, trying to guide you to the answer you already had.
You swallowed awkwardly, the growing lump in your throat threatening to break your resolve further, yet you rallied and nodded downwards before glancing to Kirsh, eyes glistening with tears.
“I have to know…what happened to you.” You said, barely above a whisper. "Why all...this...had to happen." You gestured limply to Kirsh's hidden body, concealed under the plastic sheet.
It felt like your words lingered in the air as you and Kirsh stared into one another’s eyes. Kirsh wanted to ask why you needed to do this beside him, he theorized that perhaps in doing so with him, it would form some sort of closure. Truthfully, Kirsh couldn’t solidify an answer, he rarely could when it came to human emotions. Yet...this was you. You were one of the rare few that Kirsh could trust...he knew you would have your reasons, and respected them.
“Are you quite sure you wish to do this…now?” Kirsh asked you. It might have been the warped, metallic sound in his broken voice, but you could have sworn he felt…concerned for you.
No
Yes
I don't know...I hoped it was all a nightmare and would wake up from it...
The short answer was no, and you were close to uttering it. But it would solve nothing, it wouldn’t make anything better, or worse. To watch the footage, ultimately, would change nothing. Kirsh was here, on the mend, and the world would continue to turn. No, this was for your own peace of mind.
“I’m sure.” You answered.
Kirsh blinked slowly, as if to nod in acceptance of your decision.
“Perhaps then, you could turn on my physical systems. I feel at a slight disadvantage being just a head.”
A sad and watery huff of a laugh escaped you, a brief intermission to the weight of what you two were about to do. You lingered on him for a few moments further before turning around to the terminal to begin accessing and re-instating Kirsh’s physical systems. The terminal chimed with success, and Kirsh’s fingers twitched to life, followed by a brief flex of the elbow joints. Kirsh pressed his hands on the flat of the bed he lay upon, and pushed himself up to sit a little more upright.
It was strange to see him move, especially after such a long time of little movement from him. Essentially he walked his torso up the bed whilst his lower half remained, thus creating a gap. Kirsh watched you lean over to retrieve the plastic sheet he had pulled himself out of, and tugged it up higher to cover his modesty.
“You needn’t bother.” Kirsh said as he observed your hands pulling the sheet up higher and above the cut off line to his torso.
“Let me have my way.” You softly scalded him, as you settled back into your chair.
Kirsh smirked a little at your comment, how that despite your unsettled demeanour and everything in between his departure from the facility, to your efforts in saving his data and subsequently himself- you…were still you. It comforted a part of the synth, if indeed he could feel comfort.
Artificial persons, no matter how unique their personality was coded, depended on absolutes, black and white answers. Humans were grey and smudged the lines of black and white, emotional variables that complicated situations. You however, in Kirsh’s mind, remained faithful to yourself, and therefore he could rely and predict your behaviour and thoughts. It was why he favoured you as a colleague…and perhaps…considered as something deeper. Something he couldn’t quite pin point. Something unknown and without a shape or a name, something deep within his systems he had never come across with others.
“It’s ready.” Your voice interrupted Kirsh’s minding, your hands cupping the back of the data pad, trembling slightly as the screen moved a little against your shaking palms and fingers.
“Whenever you’re ready.” Kirsh said.
You tapped on the data pad at the footage's exact time marker and moment you had ran out of the observation room, your heart already pounding against the inside of your chest.
This has to happen. This has to happen. For Kirsh, I have to do this. You thought internally as the footage re-started.
“What is that?” Curly’s voice echoed through the lab from the data pad.
“It presents as flora, but it may be fauna.” Kirsh replied.
You forced your head to remain static, fixed forward as if to keep yourself from turning away. The familiar, grainy footage that displayed Kirsh’s movements through the science bay and towards the terminal to consume the Maginot data from its systems. The rolling information on the various specimens that were contained within the facility, the information and flight log, the security break downs. You were looking through Kirsh’s eyes as he absorbed every morsel of data that the Maginot could feed him.
Until.
The sound of a iron creek and groan, followed by one of the hybrids cursing, broke Kirsh’s line of sight from the terminal screen. You don’t know why, but you stood up, the data pad still fixed in your grip, eyes unable to look away.
“Move! The ceiling it’s going to fall!” Smee’s panicked yelling called from one of the rooms that Kirsh looked in the direction of.
The footage followed Kirsh as he pulled his arm free of the terminal and sprinted through to the adjoining lab where the hybrids were packing up specimens. Kirsh’s footage looked up to where a thick beam of steel which had already penetrated the roof of the lab, threatened to cave in.
“Nibs move!” Curly cried out as Nibs, who Kirsh looked to, was frozen in place.
The audio blurred, a ringing sound that you weren’t initially aware of came sharply into focus as it muffled everything. Your eyes watched, wide with horror as Kirsh lept forward to grab Nibs and haul her out of harms way…before his eyes looked up, witnessing the final moments of consciousness as the iron bar came crashing down atop of him. The footage cut out, a flashing pixelated message reading ‘error, system disconnect’ in the middle of the footage.
Your heart sank, yet continued to beat with harsh and unrelenting force as the footage played over and over in your mind. The reality of what happened now evident; Kirsh had sacrificed himself...to keep nibs and the hybrids safe. He lay down his life…to protect them. To spare Nibs.
You raised a hand to cover your mouth as you let out a choked sob, your vision clouded with tears and you felt your knees stutter under yourself. The data pad fell to the floor with a heavy clatter, contrasting the otherwise silent nature of the lab.
This shouldn’t have happened.
Kirsh and the hybrids shouldn’t have been put into this situation.
This was Prodigy…this was Kavalier…
And all that worried Kavalier was whether or not Kirsh’s data could be retrieved.
Not the wellbeing of Kirsh, nor the hybrids.
Data. Just data. That was all they were to him...to Atom...machines to gather data...
Your crying reverberated through the lab, and you were all but lost, until you felt Kirsh’s hand on your forearm. You looked down at it, how his fingers curled around your wrist, pulling you carefully to turn and step towards his side.
“You…you risked your life for them.”
Kirsh’s eyes looked from his hand around your forearm and up into your broken expression.
“Yes.” Kirsh answered simply, side stepping the notion of having a ‘life’, and accepting there was no means of changing your mind on it. “It’s my priority to keep them safe. No matter the cost.”
No matter the cost.
The sentence washed over you, and you felt your heart tighten. The Hybrids were more than just the next stage in Prodigy’s step in artificial advancement. To your little group; yourself, Arthur, Dame, Kirsh, they were the core of your lives. Certainly, to Dame and Arthur, they were surrogate children, ghosts of what they could have had, had nature not been so cruel to them.
To Kirsh, the Hybrids were relatives in a manner of speaking, though you reasoned Kirsh would think this frivolous and simply you trying to insert meaning where it didn’t need to be. Kirsh understood his position as an educator and care giver of sorts; he understood the hybrid’s new bodies, and how it might be difficult moving from a human mind into a form like his. Cold, and manufactured.
He felt responsible for them, for their protection. To Kirsh, his life was secondary to theirs now, and it made sense to him that his programming aided his decision to place himself in harm’s way for them.
"You could have died." You whispered.
I cannot die. Kirsh immediately thought, but once more, side stepped the notion as it would have only upset you further.
“It was the logical thing to do.”
Kirsh watched you frown, and look away from him to try and hide the pained expression on your face.
“I realise that this truth is difficult for you to understand-“
“I understand…I just…find accepting it hard.” You said, your voice breaking a fraction as you interrupted Kirsh.
“Why?” Kirsh asked.
Because I care about you
Because you haunt every moment of my life
Because the thought of losing you hurts
“I just do Kirsh.” You pitifully replied, looking away from the synth.
You knew Kirsh wasn’t satisfied with your answer, but there would be no means of drawing the truth from you. Not right now at least. Still, to be denied answers, the truth, it frustrated him.
“At least now you have your answers.” Kirsh said.
You knew he perhaps he didn’t mean it when he said it, but you couldn’t help the sting. As if he were dismissing you, flippantly telling you to leave, you were done. He saw no reason for you to remain, not now that you had watched the footage, and as he said, 'have your answers'. That was what you needed, to heal that part within you.
Surely?
Then...why did it still feel like the problem was still there, like a stone around your neck.
“I do.” You affirmed and looked Kirsh over, from his unbuilt lower half, all the way upwards to his unwavering, emotionless face.
The doors to the lab opened up, startling you a little as no one was scheduled to be inside of the facility, at least no one you knew of. Quickly, you felt your pulse quicken as you looked at the familiar, looming outline of Atom, hands clasped behind his back and sporting his usual amused ghost of a smile.
“Burning the candle at both ends are we?” Atom asked musically as he approached yourself and Kirsh. “Perhaps we are just catching up on missed work, considering your…abrupt departure earlier on.” He added, a hint of amusement as he recalled the earlier meeting.
“I was just leaving.” You said.
“Then allow me to assist.” Atom said, in a eerily cheerful manner as he unfolded his hands from behind his back and approached Kirsh’s terminal. “Nighty night.” He said without looking at yourself or Kirsh.
“Wait, let me-“
But it was done. Kirsh let out a garbled and modulated grimace before slumping forward at an awkward angle. You glowered at Atom who seemed unphased by his actions, rarely did he ever.
“There’s a system to shutting down a synthetic body.” You hissed as you cupped the back of Kirsh’s head and braced his shoulder to lean his limp half body back a little into a more dignified resting position.
“You are passionate about your field of work, aren’t you.” Atom mused as he watched you handle Kirsh, covering his entire body with the plastic sheet, as if tucking a child back into bed after a nightmare. “One begins to reason that you think of artificial persons as more than just work.”
You didn’t gratify him with an answer, it was the simplest form of rebellion when dealing with Atom.
“Walk with me.” He demanded lightly as he brushed past you, snatching up your forgotten data pad from the floor as he continued towards the doors.
You turned from Atom to look at Kirsh, his eyes rolled over white in his sedentary state. You reached up and deftly slip his eyelids down, as if to imitate sleep. Part of you couldn’t contain your gesture, your hand moved on instinct as you smoothed the back of it across Kirsh’s cheek.
“Are you waiting to read him a bed time story like the hybrids?” Atom’s condescending tone echoed through the lab, you grit your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut, willing the strength to put up with him to come forth.
With your nerves already worn thin, you strode towards Atom. “Make this fast.” You said.
“And here I thought you had time to spare.” Atom commented as he glimpsed to Kirsh and then to yourself. “Come along.”
You walked side by side in an awkward silence, Atom choosing a somewhat leisurely stroll which only served to irritate and make you all the more uncomfortable. Waiting for Atom to tell you why he needed you always sent people into spiralling waves of nerves and anxiety.
“Why did you run off?” Atom abruptly asked you, though his sights were fixed on the end of the corridor.
“Excuse me?”
“During the meeting this morning, you ran out.” Atom clarified. “You were unable to witness the footage Kirsh had provided. I’m asking why.” Atom said, it wasn’t a request, it was a demand, you were to explain yourself like a child confessing your misgivings to their parent or teacher.
You knew there wasn’t much of a choice, and frankly you were exhausted in trying to dodge the question or cover up your blatant discomfort.
“Not exactly fond of watching my friend be crushed and severed in half.” You flippantly replied.
“Then why did you require Kirsh to be with you in order to watch it?” Atom pressed.
“What matter is it to you?” You asked. “Whether I watched what happened or not, why are you so concerned.”
Atom suddenly halted, and you felt your bravery waver a little. Perhaps a step too far in tone when addressing him. Regardless of how you felt, Atom was your superior, and was well within his rights to dismiss you over such misgivings.
“Interesting choice of words I must say.” Atom said, finally looking at you. “Concerned.”
“Can we please dispense with the theatrics Eins, I’m too tired and have very little patience for small talk.” You said, annoyance laced within your tone. If it had been anyone else, perhaps you would have stiffed out the discussion, but Atom wasn’t someone you made an effort to talk to even within the normal routine.
“I think you’ve become attached to Kirsh. In fact, I know you have. And you do as well.” Atom said matter of factly. “I think your emotions are getting in the way of your skills as a scientist and indeed a synth technician."
I think he complimented me. You bitterly remarked as you looked at the man, staring down at you like a child in trouble.
“Are you implying that I love Kirsh.” You asked flatly and with an air of sarcasm.
“Please don’t address me like I’m an idiot.” Atom said, low and serious. “Your feelings for him are flagrant and irresponsible.”
“Yet not against the law nor company rules. In fact I do believe it is accepted here, a boring concept, why - several of the staff members maintain synthetic relationships-“
“It’s not natural.” Atom stated, a flicker of frustration in his authoritarian voice.
“Why would it ‘concern’ you if I did? If I did choose Kirsh? If I did choose to act upon my feelings, irrational or not?” You asked, stepping closer to Atom, feeling a small flicker of confidence, or madness you weren’t sure. Perhaps the lack of sleep and emotional turmoil was spurring your actions. Frankly, you couldn’t care less, anything to get you out of Atom’s presence or be dismissed from him, whichever came first.
“You realise how...unnatural it is to harbour such feelings for artificial persons? Regardless of how regular it may seem, it is still shunned in social norms. How it fundamentally goes against human nature? Against Kirsh's programming. You as a human-“
“-I know what’s under that cold skin of yours. I’m one of the very few who can.” You interrupted Atom sharply, keeping your voice down but unwavering in your sight as you held his scathing gaze. “And perhaps, how I feel about Kirsh disturbs that part of you. How I feel about most, if not all, synths - disturbs you. You’ve made that crystal clear from the moment you approached me years ago on the back of Kavalier’s need for me to join this company. That despite my genius, it's my sympathy that makes you think of me as weak."
Atom remained silent, his brow tight as he continued to look down his nose at you, his hands now clutched at the data pad, squeezing and tightening with no doubt the thought of them around your mouth and neck to silence you.
“How I treat synths, as if they were flesh and blood, capable of loving and worthy of love. Friends, companions, lovers, it all means the same to me. And you. Cant. Stomach it.” You spoke the final part through gritted teeth, voice hissed and full of discontent as Atom’s mouth flattened into a hard line of frustration.
You expected a dismissal, hell even a shove or a slap. Instead, slowly, Atom held out your data pad for you to take.
“I would caution you curb such sympathies.” He said. “However, since it will be your undoing should you pursue them, therefore, on your own head be it.”
With that, Atom moved past you and approached the elevator towards the end of the corridor, his shiny and expensive shoes echoing with each step against the sterile floor as he walked. His imposing frame, standing stock still, unwavering as he glared at you as the doors closed over, etched into your mind.
Going toe to toe with Atom always left a horrible sinking feeling within you, within anyone who dared to argue back. He had a way of worming himself into your mind and undoing the threads of thoughts inside.
Despite this, you felt a slight air of pride about you in pushing back, in challenging him and his narrow views. You and Atom never aligned yourselves, you knew he regarded yourself – as well as Arthur and Dame – as ‘too soft’ when it came to synthetics and indeed the Hybrids.
It’s my priority to keep them safe. No matter the cost
Kirsh’s words rattled around in your tired mind as you rubbed and pinched your nose bridge post interaction with Atom. Flashes of the footage from the Maginot, the frightened Hybrids watching in horror during Kirsh’s final moments. The horrible ringing sounds followed by static.
Kirsh had risked everything to save them, to keep them safe. No matter the cost.
Your heart ached and your brain felt too big for your skull after today's emotional rollercoaster. With a heavy sigh, and waiting an safe amount of time for it, you approached the elevator and pressed the button to retrieve it, all the while waiting, you looked down the opposite end of the corridor to the lab doors, where Kirsh was sealed away, somewhat safe.
Part of you felt dissappointed that you couldn't explain more to Kirsh. You knew he was frustrated with your answers on why you needed him to be beside you in watching the footage. Perhaps he'd never know. Perhaps you might tell him. For now, you had done all you could with what little strength was left inside of you.
“No matter the cost.” You muttered repeatedly to yourself as the elevator chimed as it arrived back to the floor, ready to take you back home for the night.
Im trying so hard to not speculate what will happen in season 2 of Alien Earth, but honestly I fear the worst for our synth….I may have to preemptively write up some fluffy Kirsh fics to cope…
Titus’ turn! I love these, as always please don’t be annoyed if you disagree, its just a bit of silliness!
-Big appetite. Our guy can put his food away no problem.
-Meat eater. Point blank.
-Loves his steak bloody n blue
-Cannot function without a full breakfast in him; eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausages, toast ect
-black Coffee drinker.
-Doesnt indulge much in candy as such, but I wager he loves deserts like creme brûlée or something deeply dark chocolatey.
-Malt Whiskey is the only liquid to pass his lips other than coffee. The only water he consumes comes from the ice in his glass.
-Likes lobster (mostly so he gets to crack shells)
-Eats peanuts like its going out of fashion (PeePaw eating peanuts, groundbreaking discovery)
-Likes classic dishes such as beef Wellington and large roast dinners with sides of veg and gravy.
-Despite not being keen on candy, he wont say no to being hand fed expensive chocolate from you after saying “Titus, try this one.”
-Unlike Ursula, Titus doesn’t care for ‘designer’ food like cavier or champagne, food that has more weight in the name than the actual taste.
-He likes cake. Chocolate cake especially. But will take most forms of it (he will probably cut into someone’s birthday cake/wedding cake/business event cake first just because he wants a slice and can’t be fucked waiting).
-He enjoys shellfish, but hates getting them out the shell. Big, strong, clumsy fists that struggle to grasp the utensils to extracting the buttery meat within.
-Pomegranates are his favorite fruit next to fat, ruby red apples. Mostly for their artistic implications, but he loves juicy and crunchy sweet fruits.
Ive been enjoying making these, and of course couldn’t leave out my special little fave; Kirsh. As always, please don’t get annoyed, these are just silly thoughts🙂↕️🌷🤍
-Circulatory fluid is what he needs to sustain his internal systems (consumed via glasses or pouches like yogurt). Whilst he can take it via administration from a synthetic technician, he prefers to consume it manually to blend in with human counterparts during eating.
-He doesn’t need to eat, but if he was curious enough, I imagine he’d stick to things that are basic, unseasoned, naturally occurring.
-Fruits interest him, mostly apples due to their symbolic nature in human cultures, berries, namely the tropical varieties that grow on the island.
-Equally, he samples nuts also native to the island to identify them.
-He consumes water, but of course it isn’t integral to his internal functions.
-He likes to help cook, approaching it more as a science than a skill.
-I think he would like to keep in the kitchen a starter jar of yeast to feed for making sour dough, again similar to a lab experiment than a food product.
-He will insist on telling you facts about bacteria, germs, live cultures ect in food.
-He keeps strawberry and tomato plants, observing their growth rate and their life cycles.
I did this with other characters and thought Pope would be fun! Please don’t get annoyed, these are just silly thoughts I had, I love food and fictional cuties🙂↕️🤍🌷
(i still need to finish Animal Kingdom so apologies if these are glaringly inaccurate)
-Vanilla ice cream
-Plain cheese pizza (occasionally pepperoni)
-BBQ wings/ribs
-He’s muscly and bulky so I can imagine high protein like chicken, salmon and steak.
-Eggs. Eggs. Eggs. This guy loves eggs in all forms.
-Not massive on chocolate or candy as such, but does enjoy the fun sized candy/mini bags you get in halloween/easter multi packs (probs given to him from Lena’s haul).
-Pasta is a safe option for Pope, spaghetti in particular (with meat sauce of course).
-He likes New York style cheesecake (will give the strawberries on the side to Lena)
-Apple pie enthusiast
-hates lollipops (when Lena eats them it makes him anxious that she’ll clatter it against her teeth and hurt herself.)
-He drinks water like its going out of fashion.
-Mexican food (burritos mostly, he does enjoy tacos -mostly soft shell- but gets angry when the break/get messy after breaking)
-Smoothies and protein shakes
-Will finish your leftovers/anything on your plate you can’t finish
-Likes fruit bowls, strawberries, watermelon, kiwi
-LOVES cereal. Cheerios especially, but will take a bowl of fruit loops to match Lena in the morning
-Hates chewing gum, he’s seen too much of it under tables and associates it with germs.
-Plain vanilla birthday cake (not too much icing or fondant) with strawberry jam and icing sugar.
-certified orange peeler/consumer
-Beer is the go to alcoholic beveridge, occasionally something strong like a whiskey (but only after a successful job).
-Will consume anything you’ve made (mostly because you understand what he’ll like)
Titus Danforth x Reader: It's the end of the night with guests and a tiresome business dinner at the estate, and Titus wants nothing more than to retire to his bedroom with his wife.
Smutty smut smut purely because I need some Titus filth added to my master list lol
Oral (male receiving, female receiving), established relationship (married), LOTS of smut, PinV, unprotected, creampie ect ect, smoking, drinking, light rough-play, Titus being greedy and needy for his wife.
-Enjoy
You sat at your vanity, pinning your hair up and away from your shoulders and face to wind down for the evening.
Tonight had been another organized dinner party to stroke the egos of rich and wealthy families that aligned themselves with the Danforths. It was Ursula’s doing, she was good at organizing these types of occasions to keep the Danforth name in everyone’s mouth, to maintain the respect the family held.
You had done well to make conversation, to sit whilst Titus at the top of the table held court and watched over his guests, making conversation about golf, business, the country club, and other matters.
After dinner, the party moved to the living room where everyone mingled, smoked on expensive cigars and sipped champagne, vodka martinis and in Titus’ case- a sample of malt from his own personal collection. No one was privy to it, only himself, and you, as seen when one of the staff approached you with a tumbler of the amber nectar as per Titus’ request. Little things like that, silent gestures, made you love the brute all the more; that despite having his business head on, he paid attention from the corner of his clever eye to his wife.
Naturally, even with his wealth and power, you were all that Titus could care for. Everything else could perish for all he minded.
It neared midnight, and conversations had run its course for you. Glancing to Titus, you saw he was busy talking with a group of business associates that had forgotten their partners (who now sat on the expensive furniture, chatting about holidays to Greece or when their next round of botox was scheduled).
“Tell Mr. Danforth I'm retiring for the evening when he finishes his discussion please.” You requested to one of the staff members as your side.
“Yes Ma’am” They nodded their reply as they took your empty tumbler.
Once you had made it to yours and Titus’ bedroom, you slipped off your heals with a sigh and a wince. You went into the little room adjacent to the bedroom where you and Titus got dressed, and where your vanity with all your jewellery Titus had spoiled you with lived. You took off your dress, and pulled on your black satin bed-robe. Whilst you sat at the vanity, deshedding the evening skin you had donned, you looked at the reflection of the doorway in the mirror as you heard the door through to the bedroom open and close, followed by gradual footsteps. Heavy, and distinctly Titus’.
“You didn’t say 'excuse me' from the dinner party” Titus huffed a smirk from the doorway as his fingers tugged loose his neck scarf. "Just up and left. How rude."
“I technically did say my goodbye. You were in the middle of a conversation” You replied, looking at Titus’ in the reflection of your mirror whilst you took out your earrings. “Didn’t want to interrupt.” you shrugged innocently.
“You should have. It was a load of crap about investing in specific grass for the golf course.” He grumbled and rolled his eyes.
Titus approached you, slow and careful, before stopping at your back, brushing the backs of his left middle and index fingers across your shoulder and neck. He then curled his arm around you to produce a glass of malt, to which you took from him.
“Mmm…well, I didn’t want to tear you away.” you smiled lazily, indulging in your husband’s touch against your neck as you sipped the fiery malt.
“You left without giving me a kiss good night.” He muttered, his voice raspy and low as he bent down to press his lips to your exposed shoulder.
You couldn't help as your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut, as Titus kissed you intimately, his silvery stubble roughly contrasting his soft lips as they travelled up and onto your neck.
“M’sorry” you sighed and reached up to lace your fingers into Titus’ hair at his temple.
“Not good enough” he said, snuffling into your neck, his tongue wetting against your skin.
“How can I make it up to you my poor darling” You mused, a sly grin gracing your features as you opened your eyes and looked at Titus.
Titus looked up at you through hooded eyelids and shrugged knowingly, his brow quirking.
“Get naked” Titus bluntly suggested. “And get in bed with me.”
“In that order?” You grinned as you looked at him and stood up from your seat, sipping one last mouthful of malt before handing the quarterful glass back to Titus.
“Don’t be smart, Im too tired and too irked by those idiots downstairs.” Titus said as he sauntered into the bedroom after you, sipping on the remains of the malt and setting the glass down on a nearby table.
“They’re still down there?” You turned fully to look at Titus, slightly aghast that Titus up and left despite the guests still occupying downstairs.
Still, you knew perfectly well that if Titus doesn’t want something, he’ll walk away.
“Ursula can handle them. M'done talking to them. I want to fuck my wife.” He said, nuzzling his face to yours and claiming your mouth, hungrily.
He took your head in his hands whilst he kissed you, stepping into you and walking you backwards whilst turning so the backs of his legs met with his large, ox blood leather arm chair beside the roaring fire.
Titus kept his eyes locked with yours, as if the pair of you were playing a game of chicken to see who would look away first. He lowered himself into his arm chair, the leather protesting under his weight as he sat.
“C’mere” He beckoned and spread himself wide at the legs. “Sit on your spot” You knew exactly what he wanted.
Instinctively, you reached forward to brace your hands upon Titus’ firm chest as you crawled atop of him, his thick left thigh between your legs. Titus swatted the curtain of your silky robe away so he could get a proper look at your plush thighs, cradling his leg, the way your lace underwear pressed against the fabric of his suit pants. You had done this countless times, and yet it never failed to turn you on something awful.
Titus looked you over, admiring how the glow from the crackling fire to his side illuminated you. How it reflected in your hooded eyes as you regarded Titus below you. He reached to his side, and attempted to retrieve a cigar from the humidor on the table at his side.
“Let me” You softly cooed as you batted Titus' arm.
His huffed a smirk as you leaned over, shamelessly he eyeballed your breasts as they peaked out of your robe. You fetched a cigar and Titus’ silver, filigree carved lighter. You bit the tip off, dry spitting the cigar end into your palm before tossing it into the hungry fireplace. You then offered the cigar to Titus, who took it, held it firmly between his teeth, and allowed you to cup his chin as you lit the end up.
The heady, rich scent of tobacco filled your nostrils as Titus exhaled a fat plume of smoke around you both.
“Here” Titus said as he turned the cigar and held it up for you to draw upon.
You didnt use your hands, Titus took care of it; copying your gesture, he held your chin and jaw, as well as the cigar, watching your lips fasten around it and inhale what you could take. You exhaled and felt your head swimming with the intoxicating rush of tobacco in your system. Titus breathily grinned up at you, his beautiful wife, sitting squarely in his lap, sampling his cigars. A picture of beauty and sex.
“Move your hips, m'want to watch you fuck my leg” Titus suddenly demanded as he nodded down to your seat upon his thigh.
“Say please” You smirked humorously.
“Now.” Titus grumbled, quirking a brow at you. “After a dinner party with a pack of nobodies, I'm not in the mood to be denied.”
“I know darling, I know; I was just teasing.” You cooed as you leaned forward to lightly peck kiss Titus’ cheek, earning you a grunt of approval from the brute.
Your hands returned to Titus’ chest, effectively pushing against him to help better roll your hips, and grind down into his thigh. Titus watched as your eyes closed, head tipped back, lips parting as you sighed his name. All the while, he smoked his cigar, the combination of it as well as his wife fucking his thigh serving to help him wind down from one of Ursula’s ridiculously boring and organized business dinners.
Titus’ eyes glanced down to your sex, rubbing and dry fucking against him. A cruel and filthy grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he could already see a slight trail of your arousal, dampening the crotch of your underwear and his pant leg.
“Filthy girl” Titus grumbled, husky from the cigar and with need.
“Titus” You whined, pushing yourself into his leg, desperate for more of him.
“Stand up” Titus said, moving his arm to the side to deposit the half finished cigar into the crystal ash tray beside the humidor.
You reluctantly got up and off of Titus, your body thrumming with need now. When you stood up from Titus' lap, he followed and immediately tugged you into his front, kissing you eagerly whilst his hands grasped at your silky black robe lapels. You hummed into his kiss, hands pressing into his chest, toying with the buttons and pockets of his waistcoat.
“Let’s get this off” You pulled back, slightly breathless as you spoke, tugging on the armscye of Titus’ waistcoat. “May I?” You asked impishly whilst you toyed with Titus’s gold waistcoat buttons.
“Just the top half, then it’s your turn.” Titus instructed firmly, his hands falling to his sides with a heavy swing.
You smirked and made light work of getting Titus out of his waistcoat, followed by his black shirt. With each piece of skin revealed to you, you couldn’t help your need for Titus growing in the pit of your stomach. It didn’t matter if it was the first time you made love, your wedding night, or a random thursday, Titus’ naked body made your heart stutter.
“Need a moment?” Titus teased as you ran your fingers across his heavy pecs and stomach, sampling several notches of skin that were thick and paled, scars from hunts.
“A wife can’t admire her husband?” You playfully shot back, lowering your hands and circling your fingers across his wiry happy trail.
Titus’ full stomach flexed involuntarily at the gesture, his lips knitting together as he attempted to keep his composure. You knew you were playing a dangerous game in tempting Titus, like waving red in front of a bull or yanking a steak just out of reach from a bear.
“You’re teasing, not admiring” Titus argued.
“Then hold up your end of the bargain” you said, stepping closer to Titus, his warm skin radiating against you as you propped yourself up onto your tip toes to gingerly peck his lips.
Your kisses travelled to the corner of Titus’ mouth where you felt his stubble against your full lips, lightly leaving what was left of your lipstick on him. Titus liked when you did this, when he would go to the bathroom and find little lipstick marks made by you on various parts of his body; mouth, cheek, neck, thigh, hip...even the more salaciously hidden parts of his body. Those were the ones he refused to clean off, he would simply pull his underwear and clothes on, and wear your lipstick mark as if it were part of the outfit, hidden underneath the clothes, only for him to know of its existence.
You kissed his cheek, his jawline, then moved to his throat. Titus sighed and grumbled deep in his chest with approval as his arms circled you. You felt his fingers curl and grip at the satin robe, tugging it away and down, keen to get it off and take away a barrier between your flesh and his.
“Don’t tear it, Ursula gave it to me as a gift from Milan.” you chuckled against Titus’ collar bone as he roughly tugged at the robe, the stitching protesting a little under his brutish strength.
“I’ll buy you another, I’ll buy you a hundred.” Titus grumped as you felt the robe fall behind you and pool at your sore feet.
You were in just your underwear now, the dress you wore to dinner required no bra, just a pair of thin, lacy, burgundy panties. Titus liked you in black, but he adored you in reds and burgundy. It looked beautiful against your skin; rich, passionate, effortlessly powerful. Titus didn’t care for clothing as much as his twin sibling, but when you came into his life, he found himself dressing you, or buying things to dress you in. He knew what would work, what he wanted you to be put in as you stood by his side. He wanted to adorn you with finery, and dress you to the level of beauty he saw you in.
That being said, nothing compared to you naked. Save for your wedding ring. That was Titus’ favorite ‘outfit’ you wore for him.
“Let me just-“
Before you could slip your fingers into the waistband of your underwear, Titus stepped forward and gripped the fabric at either side of your hips, before effortlessly tearing it in two, clean off your body. You gasped and observed in both Titus’ fists, the remains of your underwear.
“I’ll buy you more…” Titus panted as he tossed the scraps into the fire place. “I need you naked. Now."
Titus’ eyes raked over your soft, naked form, lingering on the curves of your hips and stomach. He reached for you and gripped onto your waist, fingers digging almost painfully into your flesh, sure to leave bruises.
Good, Titus thought. He loved marking you. With his fingernails, his teeth, a stamp upon your anatomy that lay his claim to you. Much like your lipstick upon his flesh, Titus left bruises and hickeys.
He kissed you, lazily and messy, all the while he walked you backwards and turned you both until you felt the corner of the king sized bed nudging into the back of your thighs. It had been neatly made by the staff, ready to be messed up by you and your husband's nightly antics.
"On your knees, I need your pretty mouth on me." Titus huffed as he began to tug at his belt.
You sunk down to the floor, until the cool hardwood pressed into your flushed knees. Titus loomed over you, trapping you between himself and the foot of the bed, his belt clanged to the side, all the while he unzipped his suit pants and pushed them -along with his black boxers- down. His thick cock sprang free above you, and immediately you knelt up to capture it in your hands.
"Such a good girl." Titus sighed as you rubbed the length of him, admiring his rosy member, warm and eager in your hands.
Titus despised dinner parties, but at the very least, he could look forward to ending his night ravaging his beautiful wife. A reward for putting up with rich idiots. Whilst Titus looked you over, you flicked your tongue across the tip of his cock, teasing him, tempting him with your mouth.
"Enjoying yourself?" He smirked wickedly as you continued to tease him, not fully taking him between your lips, simply pecking and toying with the tip of his member.
"A wife can't admire her husband?" You echoed your previous sentiment, much to Titus' amusement.
Taking matters into his own hands, Titus replaced your hands with one of his own, and held the base of his cock whilst slowly wiping the tip of himself across your lips, relishing as you finally gave in and lavished him in earnest kisses and sucks.
“So good…my girl…all mine” he hummed, looking fondly at you as you sucked him off.
He brushed your hair back and fisted it in his grasp. Titus loved watching you, especially during sex. How eager you were, how keen you wanted to chase your euphoria whilst pleasuring him and yourself. You scratched your fingernails delicately against Titus' hips as you sucked, the girth of his cock straining the width of your jaw.
“Good little rabbit” Titus smirked, especially when you hummed with playful disapproval with your mouth full of him. The pet name you half despised and yet half couldn’t help but be turned on by.
After several more moments, you felt Titus’ gently push you back, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop, a thin silvery trail of his precum and your saliva keeping your lower lip and the tip of his cock linked.
Titus moved you up from your knees and to stand all by your hair in his fist, and pressed his mouth to yours in a filthy and needy kiss. He loved tasting himself on you, knowing how he had filled your mouth mere moments ago, it made him throb with pride and an insatiable hunger for you.
“On the bed, and on your belly” He instructed, panting harsh against your swollen lips, pressing and brushing his nose possessively against yours and your cheek, snuffling against your face without a care for your personal space.
Why would he care, you were his wife, his. When the moment demanded it, Titus would always feel the looming need to crush himself into you, grab you, mark you with every part of his body he could. You loved it, the feeling of Titus being brought to madness if he went a second longer denying himself you. It made your blood roar into your ears, the thrill that he would go wild with rage without you to satiate him. Only you. His medicine. His salvation.
You crawled atop of the bed, listening to Titus behind you and the shuffling of feet, fabric and shoes as he discarded the remainder of clothing on his person. You lay down on your belly in the middle of the giant bed, looking over your shoulder as Titus crawled atop of you, caging you with his arms and legs on either side of your body.
"My turn." He whispered and leaned down to kiss your shoulder blade.
Your eyes fluttered shut at Titus ran his mouth and tongue down your back, tasting the small hint of sweat that lingered upon your skin and the expensive perfume he had bought for you. He reached as far down as your ass, where he lay a kiss followed by a hungry wet bite of your sensitive and abundant flesh.
"Tilt your hips." Titus mumbled against your skin, all whilst he positioned himself between your legs, his stomach and erection pressing into the plush bed coverings.
You felt the cool air hit your warm and exposed core, how Titus' rough fingers reached up to grasp your ass and thighs and carefully spread you wider, observing the most intimate parts of your anatomy. Before you could utter his name, Titus pressed his mouth against you, and began to hungrily eat you out. His fingernails dug painfully into your ass and the backs of your thighs as he licked and kissed at you, tasting your heady slick arousal on his tongue.
"T-Titus!" You exclaimed, loudly, much to your husband's delight.
"You'll give the idiots downstairs something to discuss." Titus remarked briefly as he came up for air before diving back in.
Your mind was awash with pleasure as Titus continued to eat you out. He adored the way you pushed yourself back into his face, grinding and swirling your hips against his mouth, desperate for more.
"J-Jesus! Fuck!" You cried out, your fingers balling and tightening against the bedding. "Titus! I...I'm close...I'm c-close" You whined, moaning shamelessly into the pillow.
Titus linked his fingers across the small of your bag, and held you in place as he vigorously ate at you. His hips instinctively rubbed against the bed, dry fucking the mattress to the sound of your desperate gasps and moans, his name tumbling from your mouth as you crumbled.
You came hard, trying to muffle your screams of pleasure into the pillow below you. Titus lifted himself up and onto his knees, his tongue flicking out to gather the mess you had left on his lips and chin. To Titus, you tasted far greater than any high end malt, any expensive cut of meat or finery. You were a delicacy that was his, only his, to sample.
He watched your body tremble with the after shocks of your orgasm, your skin pebbling as your sweat slicked skin chilled in the cool air. Titus gripped his aching cock as it involuntarily twitched against his hip for you, the tip leaking with a glassy bead of precum, his body desperately in need to be inside of you.
"Still alive?" Titus playfully mocked you as he brushed his spare hand down your spine, chuckling as you shivered and arched upwards at the gesture.
You let out a little 'mmf' as you angled your face to look back at your husband, immediately growing slick again as you saw him rubbing his cock, looking you over with a tilted head.
"That's my girl." He said, and took ahold of your knee.
With little effort, Titus shifted your body to roll over so you were flat on your back, legs at either side of his waist, thighs pressing into him.
"Titus...please." You whined, arms half outstretched, beckoning for him to meet you.
"How could I possibly say no to that pretty pretty face." Titus mused as he leaned down and over you.
You grasped at either side of his head, and pulled Titus into a kiss. A mess of lips, teeth and tongues, you could taste your arousal on him, perversely encouraging your need for Titus.
Titus’ hands raked down your sides, resting on the backs of your knees to fold you nearly in half. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, digging your heels into the rounds of his ass, urging him to come closer. To close the gap and give you what you desperately ached for.
"So needy." Titus teased with a toothy grin. “Did you miss me all night?” He toyed.
“Says the man who demanded sex two seconds after coming upstairs”
“So your bare foot rubbing against my ankle under the dinner table was all for nothing?” Titus argued, and felt a swell in his ego as you had nothing to reply back with. He won, now he could claim his prize.
“Titus…please…stop being cruel” You whined pathetically as your husband continued to frot himself along your slick pussy, occasionally tapping the weight of his cock against you.
Titus panted as he lined himself up with your entrance, thoroughly lubricated by you, and pushed the round head of his cock inside. Your warmth hugged him just right, your name leaving Titus alongside several harsh expletives as he tried to maintain his composure.
You moaned unashamedly as your husband’s girthy cock stretched and filled you. Titus savored the way your nails fed into the round muscles of his shoulders, knitting into his anatomy with each fresh wave of pleasure.
“T-Titus! Oh…oh fuck…Titus” You mewled and squeezed around his cock as Titus bottomed out, his hips pressing flush and firm against yours.
"You're so good...look at you...god you're perfect." Titus breathed as he lowered his face down to the crook of your neck.
He began to shift his weight, and cant his hips into you, all the while muttering filthy promises into your ear and neck. Titus didn't have to wait long for you to plea for relief, he knew your body and it's tells so well now that he would wager he knew it better than yourself.
"Come on my cock." He grumbled as he shifted to hover his face above yours, his teeth snagging your lower lip as he pounded his worth into you.
"T-Titus! Titus!" You gasped the air from your husband's harsh breathing, air shared between the both of you as your orgasm rushed towards you.
"Show me...show me that pretty face." Titus muttered as his eyes glossed over you, how you submitted to his body, lips parted in a tell-tale o shape of euphoria. "M'wanna watch you come all over my cock...make those idiots downstairs hear you. Let them hear your pretty voice screaming out my name."
Titus was good with his words, and it was a skill that rarely faltered in pushing you over the edge. He continued to praise you, your body, your beauty, how good you felt as he buried his cock deep inside your snug slickness. With a slight shift in pace, Titus rammed himself, firm and sure, into you at a rapid rate, and immediately you saw white stars peppering your vision.
“That’s it…good girl….that my girl….there she is”
Titus fucked you through your orgasm, his ego spurred as you practically screeched out his name whilst you came impossibly hard. He grit his teeth as your nails dug deep enough into his biceps to draw eight to ten tiny little welts of blood.
Good Titus mused Claim what's yours.
You listened to Titus, the tells of his impending orgasm making your heart flutter. His staggered breathing, huffing and panting like an animal, the way his fingers gripped you tight, holding you just where he needed you to be to take what was left of him.
“F-fuck!” Titus practically growled as he pressed himself deep into you.
He came almost immediately after you had, harshly uttering your name along with a string of expletives and praises. You fawned over him as his senses dulled, all the while remaining above you, holding his body up on fists at wither side of your ribs.
“So perfect” You heard yourself whisper as your fingers brushed the sides of Titus’ stubbly cheeks and jawline.
The corner of Titus’ mouth curved into a proud grin at the praise. His narrow eyes trailing up the length of you sweat slicked anatomy; from the point where you were both joined to halting when he met your lazy, lust drunk gaze. Titus lowered himself to capture your mouth, this kiss -though still possessively true to Titus’ nature- was softer, slower. Almost a reward for his brutal love making and for handling his strength.
You whined against Titus’ mouth as he began to pull out of you, the warmth from your combined arousal spilling out, coating your pussy and thighs as well as the area at the base of Titus’ softening cock. He looked down at where you two were joined moments prior, proud of how messy you two were. Titus couldn’t help but shift his weight onto one fist so he could reach down and delicately slip his middle and ring finger through your slicked heat.
“Titus” you shuddered and reached down to grip onto your husbands arm.
Titus grinned wolfishly, especially with how high pitched and whiney his name sounded, the way your oversensitive body could barely take a skim of the fingertips.
He silently nodded, all the while maintaining an amused expression as he crawled along the length of you before laying on his back.
“C’mere” he quietly demanded, reaching and pulling you to his sturdy body, his large left arm curling around you and cradling you into his form.
“Think they heard us downstairs?” You asked with a curious grin between absent mindedly kissing the side of Titus’ pectoral and shoulder.
“Hope so.” Titus sighed. “We could open the door for round two.” he said, peeking over at you and smirking when you rolled your eyes at his suggestion.
I think it’s really impressive how you’re able to write Mickey’s personality so well without his murderous intent LMAO
Honestly it gets tricky! He’s always there tapping on my shoulder to let him out to play!
I might have to open up Murder Mickey’s kennel just as a treat (getting him back inside might be difficult though, I may need to use one of you as bait🤣👀🥩)
Andrew 'Pope' Cody x Fem!Reader: Your relationship with Pope has come to a head, and finally the two of you are inside his bedroom, but Pope seems...nervous.
(Or: Reader eases Pope into intercourse because they understand intimacy/touch is a sensitive topic for him).
Needy Pope, Touch Starved Pope, Implied plus size reader (for those who requested!), heavy heavy smut, discussions of scars and light injuries, physical touch anxieties ect, experienced yet slightly sexually clumsy Pope(?), all the gear and no idea.
You stood in the hallway, between the guest room, and Pope's. The way you two had been looking at one another, stolen glances, brushes of hands against hands, silently wishing the other person would make the first move. All night you both had been skirting around the edges, flirting silently, eye fucking each other.
But now that everyone had gone, the house empty, just you and Pope...it left nothing else to stand between you both.
You looked up when you caught Pope at the end of the hall, walking slowly into your line of sight, the silhouette of his bulky yet sturdy frame was sharply contrasted by the warm light coming from the living room. The pair of you stood still, opposite ends, staring at each other. You felt like he was mentally telling you where to go, to reject the guest room, and go to his room.
When he started to slowly approach you down the hall, you moved to reach for his door handle and entered his bedroom.
Despite it being night time, you could make out everything in Pope's room, neat, tidy, minimal. You could smell the disinfectant just under the familiar scent of Pope's cologne. It made your senses ache with need for him, to sample the masculine cologne from Pope's skin, not just from the atmosphere of his bedroom.
Pope's footsteps stopped just at the threshold of his doorway, and you looked at him. His fists were tight, clenched at either side of his jeans, and his eyes observing you in his familiar space. To Pope, seeing you standing in his bedroom was enough to drive him wild, like a predator that had cornered it's prey.
Except you weren't prey, not to him. You were something beyond it, something he deeply desired, like air in his lungs. He craved every second with you, as if it was the only thing capable of sustaining him.
He crept closer to you, yet you remained still, allowing him to come to you, to enter his room and methodically close the door behind him. You could hear the ocean beyond his french doors, waves crashing into the shoreline, hushing the night air.
Pope stopped two steps infront of you, already breathing harshly. You understood why for two reasons; the first being obvious that Pope wanted this, he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. But the second reason, was that this step...was huge for him. He never let someone in, especially to be physical with. Never. Even when his brother's would drag him along to clubs, he would sit with his arms crossed and wave away dancers. Even shaking hands with deals was a line not many crossed with Pope.
Pope didn't like to be touched, not without his own rules put in place. And you were aware of it. You knew that tonight, despite how desperate you wanted to let all control go, you had to be patient and work with Pope. This wasn't about speed, this was about finding the perfect rhythm for both of you to enjoy.
“Tell me what you want Andrew” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood inches apart from him.
You watched him blink several times, his jaw ticking as he swallowed to look you over from the bottom all the way to the top.
“M’want you” he muttered.
“Just me?” You questioned playfully, but not in a mocking manner, never did you mock Pope. You wanted him to tell you, out loud, how he wanted to have you.
“All of you.” He answered and took a tentative step forward “I want you naked…in my bed…in my arms…”
Well…I did ask
“Give me your hands baby” you hummed, holding out your upturned palms for Pope.
He slowly reached up and placed his hands into yours, watching carefully and curiously as you took them, and guided them to the hem of your t shirt.
“S’okay…you can undress me” You said, sensing a slight hesitance from Pope.
You looked between yourself and where his fingers gripped the hem of your t-shirt. Slowly, he began to tug the fabric up your body, your arms moving towards the ceiling to aid him as he rolled the clothing up and over you.
Pope’s eyes roamed across your face, your hair slightly messed from having the shirt pulled over your head. He then looked down at your semi nude upper half, lingering on your bra and soft breasts. Pope folded your shirt and carefully placed it onto the desk beside you. He then reached his hand up, tentatively, as if touching you would make you flinch, like he was made of ice, something harsh or sharp that would make you scream with pain or repulsion. The gnawing sense of doubt, of self worth ate away at Pope as he flirted with the idea of closing the gap, of holding you in his arms.
She doesn't want you
You're too violent, too misshapen and cruel, that's what people tell you
How could she possibly want this with you?
“You can touch me Andy, it's okay…I want you to” you encouraged, smiling warmly at him. It made the voice settle down within Pope, like you could silence it just with your warm encouragement.
Pope swallowed, you saw his adams apple bobbing as his eyes left yours and back to look at your chest. He reached up and cupped your breasts, feeling the fabric under his fingers and palms. Part of you felt irritated you didn't wear something fancier or at the very least something that matched your lower underwear. But whilst getting ready for work that morning you didn't exactly anticipate having sex with Pope for the first time that same night, so day-to-day underwear was going to have to do for now.
You sighed deeply as Pope continued to squeeze your breasts, lifting them and feeling the weight of them against his hands. He could feel all the blood rushing south to his painfully hard erection. Towards the tail end of the night, he had been covering his lap with a cushion or a jacket like a horny teen with a semi.
"Look at me Andy...Please." You whispered lightly. When his hazel eyes looked up at you, his mouth skimming across your skin, you felt your insides melt. "God your eyes are so beautiful." You mused.
Pope felt his heart stammer a little at your compliment. Many had noted him as 'intense' or that he intimidated people with his just his stare alone. You however, found Pope to have the most soulful eyes you had ever looked into. Beneath his tough and intimidating exterior, Pope experienced emotion so raw and unyielding, and you couldn't help but feel it when looking right into his eyes.
"So beautiful." You repeated, low and quiet. When Pope failed to move, as if frozen by your words, you gently encouraged him. "What next beautiful boy?" you smiled, it's warmth feeding into Pope as he continued to hold onto you.
“I wanna take it off…please” His raspy voice broke the palpable silence as he nodded to your bra clad chest.
“Go ahead” you nodded.
You were going to turn on the spot to expose your back to Pope, but instead he stepped into you, and circled his arms around your back to take a hold of the hook to your bra. You felt his face dip into the crook of your neck, inhaling and huffing against your body, sampling your warmth and perfume as it decorated your skin.
Your bra came undone, and you felt Pope slipping his fingers under your shoulder straps to get you out of it. His fist gripped your bra at his side as he stood back to look at you.
Pope shuffled as he felt his cock press even more now against the confines of his jeans. You looked so good, standing half naked in his room. So full, so soft, so perfectly natural. He looked at your curves, how beautiful you’d look even fuller with his baby in you. Pope decided right then and there that you would have at least three kids together if he could help it.
He tossed your bra on top of your folded shirt on the desk, and turned back to you, stepping close, so close he could feel the heat radiating off you. Your breath hitched as Pope touched you again, his fingers softly smoothing over your nipples, firming them into stiff peeks.
“Andy” your voice, wavering a little, brought him back to the present.
He looked at you, and you could see a glimmer in his narrow hazel eyes. A need. A desire. Wordlessly, Pope bent at the knees, and pressed his mouth atop of your breasts, sampling and tasting your flesh. You wanted to reach up, cradle his head, lace your fingers into his thick, rusty curls. But you withheld from doing so, this was Pope’s time, his way, you didn't want to spook him by being greedy. To touch and be intimate, it was something almost foreign to him, and you wanted to ease him into this, to trust you that you didn’t expect or demand his body, you wanted him to love you naturally without obligation or fear.
You felt yourself grow wetter as the sound of Pope’s mouth licking and kissing at your chest filled the room. He captured your soft and sensitive nipple in between his lips and teeth, and lavished it wish his tongue. Pope's strong hands smoothed down your curves, squeezing your hips, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. He stopped to look up at you, a silent prayer to let him push them down, to have you entirely naked.
“Please…please Andy” You half permitted, half begged.
“Okay…okay” Pope practically panted as he absorbed your pleads. "Hold onto me." He said.
He knelt a little further down to pull your underwear south whilst you rested your hands on his shoulders for stability, lifting your feet up to get out of the scrap of fabric, the cool air hitting your warm thighs and slick centre. Pope toyed with your underwear in his hands, curiously, obsessively.
"Still okay?" You asked, reaching out to skim your fingers over Pope's muscular forearms.
“M’wanna keep em” He shrugged, looking at you through his lashes. He felt slightly ashamed to admit such a thing, but it made you feel all the more turned on that he'd want to do so.
You smirked and reached up to close your hands over Pope’s, and subsequently, your damp underwear.
“Keep em” You replied with a slight shrug.
“Yeah?"
“Yeah”
Pope breathed a smirk, crooked and amused as he pocketed the underwear into his jeans. This was what you wanted, for him to indulge in you, to feel like he could be free with you and explore his desires without shame or judgement. Pope reached for your arms whilst he looked you over shamelessly, eyes lingering between your legs and the small patch of pubic hair atop of you. He moved in close and looked up and into your eyes, his nose brushed against yours, lips skimming and teasing, until he felt bold enough to close the gap and kiss you.
The feeling of Pope's shirt buttons pressing into your soft stomach and chest, his rough jean fabric against your lower half, it all felt dizzyingly good. You rested your hands flat against Pope's hard chest where you could feel his heart beating like a rabbit beneath your palm.
Despite his slight surge in confidence, you could still feel his nervousness skimming under the surface.
"Can I undress you now?" You asked as you separated from Pope, the pair of you struggling to regulate your needy breathing.
You could have sworn you felt his heart skip a beat at your question, and he responded with a slow nod.
"Tell me Andy...I want to hear your voice baby."
"Take off my clothes." He simply responded, low and husky, a voice that came from deep inside his chest.
It went straight to between your legs, pooling a new wave of arousal that you were certain was already running down your inner thigh.
Resisting jumping his bones is a lot harder than I thought. You mused shamefully to yourself.
You leaned forward to kiss Pope again, gentle and sweet, enough to remind him that this was okay, that you were eager to make him happy and that he was doing wonderfully.
Pope stood still as your hands reached up and began to undo his collar, then his shirt buttons, gradually exposing more and more of his toned upper body to you. You had seen his upper half plenty of times, during the hot summer, at the beach, beside the pool, yard work, at the skate park. But right now...it had a different feeling. This was intimate. Special. This was for you, just as your body was for Pope.
You peeled the shirt back, and Pope helped to get it off by shrugging it down his thick arms. His heart rate quickened now that he was exposed to you, despite the lack of lighting, he knew you were still capable of seeing faint hints of scars, marks from jobs or fights he had gotten into. Some were so light you would have to get up close to see them, others were dark and thick, raised sections of flesh.
Now that his shirt was gone, you could really feel the warmth from his skin, flush against yours. Pope shivered as you skimmed your fingers across his chest and collar bones, down his abdomen where you lightly circled his navel, relishing in the hairs of his happy trail that disappeared into his jeans.
"You're so perfect." You whispered, more so to yourself, but Pope caught it.
It made his heart tighten, how you were looking at him right now with his walls slowly crumbling down. Perfect wasn't something he was ever described as. Violent, mental, weird, scary, sad. But never perfect.
"My perfect Andrew."
I'm yours. Im all yours. Until the day I die, I'll be yours. Pope's inner voice screamed as your hands explored his body, paying attention and care to his keloid scars under your finger tips.
"Can I kiss you? On your body?" You asked.
"Please." Pope responded quickly.
His voice sounded closer to a whine more than anything, and you felt a swell of pride that Pope was showing his need for you. Without hesitation, you closed in and kissed atop of his chest above his heart, listening to him humming above you, sighing as if relieved of pain or discomfort just from your kiss alone.
You lowered yourself a little, and applied your lips to a particularly heavy scar upon his stomach that curved upwards towards his rib. Your knees burned as you held yourself midway, relief flooding into your joints as you lowered further until your mouth stopped at the space beneath his navel. Testing the waters, you licked a strip of skin, feeling the wiry hairs of his happy trail against your wet and soft muscle. As you pressed your mouth to his skin, your hands crept up to gingerly squeeze Pope’s erection through his jeans.
"Jesus fuck-" Pope hissed, and he backed up a little. "S-Sorry...I...I didn't...I don't mean you I mean...I..."
"Hey, hey, hey...it's okay. Too much?" You said, low and gentle to calm Pope as he shuffled anxiously on the spot.
"No...it's...it's..." Pope swallowed and tried to gather himself. "I want you...I want you so badly...I just...I don't wanna...screw this up."
"Screw it up?" You repeated slowly.
Pope began to panic.
You’re spoiling it
You’re making her feel bad
You always make things worse
She deserves someone normal, someone who wont freak out over being touched
You don't deserve her, or to feel her body
Pope shuffled awkwardly, and you could see him warring with himself to try and articulate his feelings whilst his body screamed at him to push through, to take the pleasure you wanted so badly to give to him.
"Andy...it's okay...you can tell me." You said, straightening up and reaching to smooth your palms over Pope's heavy shoulders.
"I've thought about this...for months. Keeps me up at night...thinking of you, and me...like this...doing things." Pope said, moving backwards from you and sitting down on the edge of his bed. "I...I wanna make you feel good...I just don't wanna get carried away and...and spoil it all."
"Andrew" You softly hummed, his concern weighing on your heart.
You were thinking so much about making sure he was comfortable that it hadn't crossed your mind that he was worrying about the same thing only on your end.
"I don't want to fuck you." Pope said, hard and sure. "I don't want this to happen tonight and then...then nothing. Like you were nothing more than a casual hookup. Just another person."
You observed Pope, how beautiful he looked sitting there, worrying as the pale moonlight bounced off his toned body and messy hair.
"Tell me what you want Andy." You repeated your earlier sentiment, reaching out to place your hands on the sides of his temples, combing through his soft hair.
He looked up at you, marvelling at how beautifully pure you appeared to him as you stood naked, with only the faint moonlight illuminating your figure to him. You were compensating so much for him, you were taking time to allow him grace to feel his way through this.
"I wanna make you feel how much I've been craving you. All these months. How badly I want your body...how badly I want you." He confessed, his hands wringing together.
"Then show me...give me a reason to never leave." You said, edging yourself between Pope's knees so that he had to spread them wide for you.
You had no idea what you had just done. What you had just asked of Pope, you didn’t know it, but he was never going to let you go, never. He was going to dedicate his every waking moment to you. After tonight, there was no escape.
His hands instinctively reached up to cup your hips, his forehead resting on your abdomen. You shivered when you felt him kiss against the space above your navel.
"Make love to me Andrew...I want to feel your body...I want to feel how much you love me...show me. Don't hold back...please."
Something changed inside of Pope. Your words, your plea to him, it was almost visceral. His hands reached up to carefully bring you down onto him, so that you sat squarely in his lap. Pope circled his strong arms around your naked waist, all the while you cradled his face in your hands.
You couldn't hold back, and neither could Pope. Within seconds of your body resting within his lap, your mouths found one another.
Instantly, you felt Pope's hunger, his need for you, as if he were pouring his entire being into this kiss. You circled your arms around his neck, and deepened the kiss, surprised a little to feel Pope's tongue politely swiping against your lower lip.
You granted him access, his tongue sliding against your own as you both hummed and moaned shamelessly into one another's mouths. Pope's hands ghosted around the curve of your ass, squeezing your abundant flesh and lifting you a little further up so you ground down into him. Immediately you could feel his erection, pressing into your exposed centre, assuredly leaving a wet patch upon his jeans from how slick you were.
"A-Andy." You panted as you firmly ground your hips into him, unable to restrain your need.
"M'wanna touch you." Pope huffed, his breath fluttering across your features. "Touch you...taste you..."
"Please" You whined, for anything Pope would give you, you would take it, all too eagerly. You were desperate for him now.
Pope's arms around your waist tightened as he stood up with ease. It almost frightened you how strong he was to carry you without batting an eye lid. You weren't small or waifish by any measure, almost the opposite, and yet Pope carried you as if it were nothing.
He turned on the spot, and placed you down slowly in the middle of his bed, with himself nestled between your legs. Pope dipped his head between your breasts, kissing and softly sucking against your flesh, lowering himself down further, and further, hands smoothing over as much of your body as he could find, paying particular attention to your stomach. He loved it, he loved how soft you were in contrast to his hardness, you were everything he desired because you were nothing like him.
Your hand reached down to softly rest atop of Pope's head, brushing your fingers through his hair as he glanced up at you whilst placing impish kisses upon your hips and inner thighs. A small flicker of self-consciousness over came you as Pope closed in on your slicked pussy, your control on the situation faltering slightly as Pope slowly took over.
"A-Andy you don't have to-"
"M'want to." He silenced your polite protest. "Spread your legs a lil wider for me." Pope gruffly whispered as he delivered a gentle nip to your thigh with his sweetly crooked teeth.
You did so, allowing Pope to position himself so that your knees rested over each of his toned and muscular shoulders, his arms wrapped around and under you so that his hands lay flat upon your abdomen. Effectively trapping you under his embrace as he greedily looked over your sex.
Your body arched upwards as Pope applied his mouth to you, licking his way up and through you. It was like you had been jolted with electricity the minute Pope fastened his mouth around your clit.
"A-Andy! Oh my god-" You moaned loudly, the hand combing through his curls now tight against his scalp as you held on for dear life as Pope greedily ate you out.
Pope didn't take his eyes off you, not for one moment. He watched as your face twisted and contorted in pleasure as he kissed, licked and sucked. He needed to see you come, it drove him damn near insane with want. Thankfully, it wasn't going to take long, given the way your body had already begun spasming against his mouth.
"O-oh! Oh my god!" You stuttered, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin as you felt the all too familiar coil winding deep within your body. "I-I'm close...fuck! Andy...A-Andy!”
The way you moaned and sighed his name, so wantonly, Pope couldn't help but buck his hips into the mattress, dry humping and searching for some sort of friction. The sound of Pope's mouth lavishing your slick pussy, filled the room alongside your breathless and desperate moans.
Pope's hands pressed firmly against your stomach as your hips fought to rise up off the mattress, your orgasm overwhelming you as you came against his mouth, all the while you chanted Pope's name.
Andy, Andy, Andy...over and over again.
Pope finally took his mouth off you, your arousal decorating his lips and chin as he looked you over, panting, sweaty, his name still tumbling from your lips as you lay your head back on his pillows.
You felt the bed grow lighter, and the sound of Pope's belt clanging as he undid his jeans. You listened to muffled noises of fabric being folded and placed, your body moving a little as the bed dipped down where Pope leaned into it, and crawled atop of you.
As he moved along the length of your body, Pope dipped his head down to kiss and run his tongue along your collar bone, savouring the salty tang of your sweat upon your flushed skin. He hungrily looked you over, your eyes opening up to him, hands reaching for him, everything you wanted was him.
“Fuck…you’re beautiful” Pope muttered “M’Want you like this every night”
You let out a breathy chuckle, which made Pope grin in turn. His hand reached up to smooth away a few rogue pieces of hair from your mouth before pressing his lips to yours.
You tasted yourself on him, his lips sliding against yours as you passionately kissed one another. Your body practically thrummed with need for Pope, you couldn’t help but reach for him, his arms, his sides, his chest, any part of his anatomy you could plant your hands on.
As Pope kissed you, you felt the girth of his warm cock brushing and twitching against your thighs. You broke away and looked down to between your bodies, eyes widening a little at how thick Pope was.
He nervously looked at your face and down at himself.
“If…if you don’t-“
“I do” You answered eagerly “you’re just…bigger than Ive had…”
Pope felt a swell of smug pride grow inside of him. It wasn’t the first time someone had said this about his anatomy. But coming from you, it made his ego swell considerably.
“Just…go slow…slow baby” You hummed, lips skimming against Pope’s.
“Okay” Pope sighed, glancing a little nervously down your bodies, then back up and into your eyes.
Pope held his cock by the base, slowly running his head through your arousal, effectively coating himself. This was going to be a true test of will power, the amount of times Pope had dreamed of this, experienced cold showers to calm himself, excused himself with his jacket draped over his front.
“A-Andy please” You whimpered, your body shivering as Pope brushed himself across your sensitive clit.
“Sorry baby” He impishly smirked, lining himself up with your entrance.
You gasped loudly as Pope pushed himself into you, stretching and filling you, as if he were forcing the air from your lungs.
“Want me to stop?” Pope asked tentatively, his curious eyes roaming over your face. In truth, and selfishly, he prayed you’d not take him up on it.
“No…please keep going…s’good…so good Andy” You moaned deeply.
“You look so beautiful like this…always beautiful…my girl…my beautiful girl” Pope mumbled into the crook of your neck.
Pope cooed and praised you for taking him until finally he bottomed out, his hips flush with yours as his cock nudged the deepest part of you, the part that made you see stars and babble incoherently in ecstasy.
You reached for him, up to claim his face in your hands and bring him down to kiss you, slow and meaningfully.
Pope couldn’t help himself, his hips moved gradually as you kissed, seeking out some form of movement inside of you. You lifted your legs to cradle and wrap around Pope’s waist, heels softly digging into his toned ass, one of his hands reached down to smooth and rake his fingers over your outer thigh. He turned his head to deepen the kiss, hungry for you, desperate to have you in every way possible.
“Fuck” Pope grunted into your kiss as his hips bucked a little too hard all of a sudden.
When you let out a sharp inhale at Pope’s rough movement, he froze up.
“Fuck, m’sorry I-“
“More”
“What?” Pope frowned at you, confusion etched over his features as he looked down at me “M’not hurting you?”
“No baby, no…no you…you’re making me feel…so good” you encouraged, willing him to move again. “S’okay…I want it…I want all of you”
Pope could have melted right then and there. How you looked up at him, the way your body clenched around his cock, the way you needed him.
“Y’tell me if it gets too much”
Your reply stuck in your throat as Pope moved again, yet you nodded in agreement. He edged back just enough, until only the tip of him remained inside, before pushing back into you.
Your mind was swimming as Pope increased his pace, yet something you quickly noticed was his movements were slightly awkward and sporadic. Pope had slept with people before, and was no stranger to sex, but his technique was almost…unsure. As if he didn’t quite know what to do with himself, despite his experience and endowment.
“Andy…ugh! A-Andy! Wait” You huffed and gently pressed your hands on his abdomen.
“Wh-whats wrong?” He paused, slightly panicked.
Then, a thought overcame you.
“I wanna sit on your lap, and ride you…please” You panted, reaching up to stroke your fingers along his jawline.
Pope felt his cheeks redden at your request, immediately the thought of you sitting squarely in his lap, bouncing up and down on his cock made his mouth water like a feral animal.
The fantasy had occurred more than once to Pope, especially during his morning showers.
“Yeah…yeah” Pope nodded, and began to carefully pull out of you.
You couldn't help but sigh at the loss of him inside of you, but greater things were to come. Pope crawled alongside you as you sat up and knelt beside him on the bed, giving him a moment to sit with his back against the headboard. He gripped at his thick cock, your slickness having coated him eased his hand as he rubbed himself, eager for you.
Pope blinked up at you as you carefully swung your leg over his lap, hovering over his erection, tempting him.
“Can I?” You asked him, hinting at touching his cock with your hands.
“It’s yours…Im yours…you dont ever gotta ask for this. Just take it.” Pope nodded, letting go of himself to allow you to take over.
You smiled at him and leaned forward, one hand planted in the middle of Pope’s chest to steady you as the other reached between your bodies to delicately wrap your fingers around his cock. Pope chewed his lower lip as you touched him, guiding him into your body. A string of expletives left you both as you sank down, lower and lower, gradually taking Pope inside until you fully enveloped him.
“Oh fuck…fuck that's…you’re…Im-“
“Breathe…breathe baby, there’s no rush Andy” you coached him, Pope realizing you were watching him fondly. “Put your hands on my hips, and move me how you want me to."
Pope swallowed thickly, and did as told, his hands coming up to cradle your hips and ass. With both hands upon his chest, you began to rock and grind languidly against Pope. He looked at you like you were the only person in the world, the way you moved your body with his, sharing your combined pleasure.
In this position, Pope could drink you in fully whilst you drew out the dull ache inside of you both. He admired the way your chest moved, how you soft stomach looked utterly kissable, your thighs bracketing his legs as they cushioned on either side of him. You swirled and swivelled your lower half, each movement sending wave after wave of pleasure through you and Pope. You loved how he temporarily moved a hand to ghost across your stomach as it moved hypnotically in tandem with your rolling hip movements.
“Bend your knees for me baby” you softly encouraged between gasps and moans.
Pope nodded quickly, whispering a small ‘M’kay’ as he angled his toned legs into a bend behind you. You leaned in close to Pope’s face, your fingers stroking against his cheek as you rubbed your nose this way and that against his.
Once again, Pope’s ugly little inner critic reared its head to panic him as he felt a familiar flutter of pleasure roll through him.
You wont last
You’re gonna come before her and look like a dipshit
You’re gonna be selfish and ruin it for both of you
Can’t even last long enough to make her come
“Hey, look at me” When you spoke, you silenced Pope’s inner critic again. "Relax baby."
“You feel so good…I…I dunno if I can…” He whimpered, already feeling anxious of potentially spoiling the moment prematurely.
“Don’t worry about me” you cooed, pecking Pope’s lips, drawing out his anxiety like venom from a bite. “I want to feel you, I want to feel how much you’ve thought about this, about us…making love”
Pope hesitated for a moment, before reaching a hand up to hold your cheek, bringing your mouth to his whilst his other smoothed down your ribs to grip onto your hip and ass. Kissing you felt like a balm to Pope’s soul, a means of quieting his noisy mind. When he kissed you, every bad thought left him.
Immediately he began to move his hips, with feeling and meaning, pouring every ounce of himself into you. You moaned into Pope’s mouth, eventually having to pull away to gasp for air as you cried out his name.
“O-Oh my- fuck! Andy!” You exclaimed as Pope held you tightly whilst he fucked himself up and into you. “S-So good…you’re so good…fuck! I need you!”
“Take it…take all of it…use it...use me, my body” Pope grunted, his eyes never leaving your face as you struggled to keep your composure.
You reeled as you felt him angle his head to capture your breast in his mouth. Pope dug his fingers into the abundant flesh of your ass, sure to leave bruises that he would half admire, half regret. He wanted to mark you, make you his, but the thought of bruising you made him feel a little conflicted despite the context.
“A-Andy…oh fuck! I-Im gonna…I…I” you were losing control, the tight band within you winding more and more, threatening to snap.
“Do it…please…please-fuck! lemme watch you come” Pope panted, and moved quicker, harder, hitting that part of you that made you see stars.
Almost immediately you tightened around Pope’s cock, and came so hard you swore you about nearly blacked out. Pope held you, tight in his strong grasp as you fell apart, his name tumbling from you over and over like a prayer. Your back arched and your mouth opened into a tell tale o shape as your orgasm practically tore through you, all the while Pope fucked you through it.
“Oh…oh fuck” Pope growled into your chest. “Oh god m’gonna…m’gonna come!”
You held the sides of Pope’s face and craned your neck down to rest your forehead against his.
“Come for me…please baby, come for me”
“Wh-where?” Pope asked, the last thread of restraint within him close to snapping.
“Inside” You panted, still overstimulated from your orgasm “I want you to come inside me Andy…please….please”
Pope grit his teeth as he pistoned his hips up into you, listening to the sound of skin on skin heavily slapping mixed with your exclamations of pleasure. With your body already overstimulated, you hadn't anticipated a third orgasm to overwhelm you, but it did. As Pope thrust into you once, twice, thrice, he came in heavy spurts deep within you, all the while your pussy clenched tightly and took him for everything he had.
You practically collapsed onto Pope's chest as you tried to regulate your breathing, the pair of you a sweaty mess of limbs and bed sheets. Eventually, you softened and relaxed, your cheek pressing into Pope's chest as he remained inside of you.
"Hey...you okay?" Pope's voice roused you, he sounded hoarse and concerned as his fingers reached up to brush your hair away from your face to look down at you.
"M'okay." You mumbled into his sweaty skin. "M'getting a little sore." You said, wincing as you limbs started to threaten with pins and needles.
"I got you." Pope muttered as he held you whilst starting to pull out of you.
Immediately you felt your combined release slip out of you and down your thighs, decorating both yourself and Pope. Despite his aversion to all things messy, this - perversely- Pope didn't mind so much. He eased you to roll off his body and down beside him onto the plush mattress, your body limp and spent. There, Pope turned onto his side, and ushered you to come back into his arms, to which he draped over your body, fingers skimming up and down your sweaty spine and between your shoulder blades affectionately.
You eventually opened your eyes to look at Pope, his face inches away from yours as you both rested your satiated bodies. Your left leg hooked over Pope's hip, with his thigh nestled between you. He couldn't help but stroke his fingers across your lips and chin, as softly as he could.
The feeling inside of Pope was crushingly powerful, as if a chain now connected you and him by the inside of his chest and into yours. You were never going, never. You were Pope’s, and he was yours.
"So beautiful" He whispered. His hazel eyes glazing over your satisfied, loving expression as you smiled adoringly at Pope. “M’love you…”
"I love you too” you whispered back to Pope, and kissed him, continuing to do so until both of your tired and satiated bodies drifted of together, intertwined in Pope’s bed, listening to the waves out beyond.
Hello my little loves! I hope you’ve all been well!
First and foremost, thank you so much for the influx of love on my writing! So many new and lovely people have commented and shared my work! Any and all support means the universe!
I sometimes make posts like this to keep you all in the loop as to whats in progress, whats planned and what Im finishing/starting writing-wise!
We have ALOT to cover! So! Lets dive in!
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Kirsh Writing Update
Memory of you
-Chapter 8 is 60% complete
-Ive more or less written the structure for ending the fic so I can plough ahead into finishing up the story! (Slightly sad its coming to an end!)
•••
Kirsh Multific (un-named)
-Ive hinted at this story before, but it will take place at the Maginot crash sight, where you as a science officer are taken by Prodigy as leverage.
-Mean Kirsh vibes, enemies to lovers, yearning/pining, angst with a hopeful ending.
-Character will be female but non descript to keep it a little open for reader’s to insert themselves into the story.
•••
Pieces Of The Puzzle (part 2)
-Second half to this fic
-Reader discovers Kirsh has been stealing their things.
-Stalker Kirsh, obsessive pining and yearning, smut
•••
Kirsh One Shots (fluffy and smutty)
-Kirsh performs eye exam on reader (fluffy)
-Reader and Kirsh practice oral/port licking (smutty)
-Kirsh takes care of sick reader (fluffy)
-Reader draws specimens, Kirsh keeps the drawings (fluffy)
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Mickey Altieri Writing Update
First Impressions
-A sister mini multific to Home For The Holidays
-Mickey reluctantly comes to dinner and meets your parents.
-Nervous Mickey, angsty, fluffy, hopeful ending
•••
Mickey Altieri One Shots (fluffy and smutty)
-Halloween costume party/sex at a party (smut)
-Mickey and reader re-unite at a college re-union (fluffy/smutty)
-Mickey takes photos of reader, and you find his secret stash (fluffy).
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Pope Writing Update
Pope One Shots (fluffy/smutty)
-COMPLETE! You and Pope having sex for the first time (slightly awkward/nervous Pope vibes) (Smutty) YOU CAN READ IT HERE
-Skate shop reader, Pope comes in to buy a board for Lena, and he falls in love with you and how you treat Lena (fluffy)
-Reader is baby sitting Lena and has a nightmare, and you look after her. Pope comes to pick her up and learns about it (fluffy)
-Pope sees reader in a sun dress at a bbq and can’t contain himself (smutty)
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Jack Abbott Writing Update
Abbott One Shots (fluffy/smutty)
-Reader gives Jack a back rub (fluffy)
-Jack and reader have a first date (fluffy)
-Reader is brought in to ER, Jack is told he can’t attend you as it goes against hospital ethics code to operate/tend to family members (angsty fluff)
-Reader tries to stay up late for jack coming home after a shift (fluff)
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Titus Writing Update
Titus Danforth
Bloodlines
-Reader is sold off to Titus who requires a bride to complete his contract to Mr. Le Bail / The Lawyer.
-You have to survive a particular hunt, overlooked by the council.
-if you survive, you keep your life and are married off to the Danforth estate.
-Whilst this goes on, Titus falls in love with you, and becomes reluctant to put you in harms way.
-Smutty/Romance vibes
•••
Titus One Shots (fluffy/smutty)
-After dinner party sex (smutty)
-Thigh riding kink (smutty)
-Wedding/Wedding night (fluffy/smutty)
-Titus post hunt patch up/clean (fluffy)
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WHEW! I think thats everything, and hopefully you guys are as excited as I am for them to get started!
Even though this list seems quite lengthy, if there’s something on here you want me to push to the top of the writing list, please let me know!
And if there’s a specific prompt you want me to tackle, send me a request!
(WIP CURRENTLY WORKING ON FICS TO PAD THIS LIST OUT, HENCE WHY HE'S A LIL UNDERFED)
A master list of all my Abbot fics! (No doubt I shall be adding to this list as I write more stories!)
All relevant tags should be listed (if needed) at the top of each fic, but if there's anything I should add in to a fic as a warning, please don't be shy in letting me know!
