Pope would sit and talk with you, he'd let you spill your whole life out to him over and over and he try his hardest to talk back. He's never been a strong speaker but he tries to communicate for you. He knows words mean alot to you, especially paired with actions. It starts off with him just talking about his day. Then about his brothers, then what he likes. He never really knew what he liked as a whole before you. Everything was picked for him to make him the perfect version of what sm*rf wanted him to be. But with you, he finds himself again and you find yourself too. Finally understand underneath those paragraphs of word vomit and emotion no one seems to be able to see through
Tboy werewolf boyfriend who is absolutely salivating at the thought of having his partner’s puppies. He is just so excited to be filled up with their cum. He can’t wait for his teats to grow heavy with milk. The first puppy kicks in his belly have him overjoyed. He begs for puppies every night.
TW: Smoking, alcohol, “getting high”, flirty stuff, NSFW. It gets a bit shitty near the end. NOT PROOFREAD. Gender neutral due to the lack of pronouns addressing the reader.
The scent of smoke and sweat choked the air as you forced past the partying mass with your umteenth empty drink. You stumbled towards the metallic bar table and set your empty glass on the cold surface with a clink.
“A Manhattan, please,” you muttered, retrieving your box of cigarettes from your suit and igniting the blank rear of the little stick.
The bartender took the cue and began fixing up a drink.
You sat on the barstool and sobered up with a cigarette, your feet tapped to the muted bass of the music. Your gut churned as a cloud of smoke from your lips washed a wave of regret over your head. Going to your high school reunion was a mistake.
Your fingers relieved the tie around your neck, and with a sigh— you freed yourself from the uppermost buttons of your shirt— exposing your collarbones. You watched the bartender's hands as he slipped the drink in your direction; all you did was sit there and blink at the swirling golden-red alcohol, your appetite disappearing in a blink. The cigarette in your hand flickered under the dim lights.
"What? Not feeling like drinking anymore? I just watched you down three of those glasses like it was nothing." A voice dangerously close to your ear spoke up— you could feel the little puffs of breath between each word. You jumped, almost dropping your cigarette on the table. The muscles on your neck tensed. You instantly recognized who it was, so you kept your eyes to yourself.
Little specks of ash fluttered onto your suit as you brought the wrapped leaf up your lips and drew a deep breath. Goosebumps rose on your neck as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to keep your heartbeat from climbing up your ears.
"I never struck you as a smoker," he said.
Your eyes stayed glued on the drink as the voice sat up and posed comfortably on the bar chair beside you. The man leaned forward in your direction, but you instinctively recoiled, avoiding the heat from his body.
You peeled your eyes off your drink, turned at the voice, and met a familiar sight. The soft hair, glowing eyes, and the softest smile— You were sure it was over by now, but your heart had other thoughts.
"Oh," was the maximum reaction you could push through your psychoactive head as the man took the glass from your fingertips and brought it to his lips with a smile.
This certainly wasn't on the agenda today.
You sat in embarrassing silence as you watched him swirl the glass of Manhattan between his slender fingertips. You swallowed as you avoided his gaze, taking rhythmic puffs from your cigarette. A beat later, he spoke up.
"Don't ignore me. Not when you're dressed so fancily in that suit of yours," he said, shattering the loud wall of silence between you. His cold fingers grasped your chin and brought it close to his face, "What's the matter? Last time I remember, you loved looking at me."
Your face flushed a scalding red; you attempted to pull back from him, "That...that-"
He interrupted, "You came here to see me," he said with a confident look, his fingers released your chin.
Bingo.
You rubbed the area where he touched— the place felt like a brand on your chin. Maybe it was the effects of the smoke, but you've accepted defeat long ago, "And what if I did?" you shot back.
“That’d be quite the compliment,” He swirled the glass again and sipped at it elegantly. You watched in silent awe as he wet his lips with the bitter liquor. The neon red maraschino cherry glistened and bobbed in the alcohol as he tipped the glass. He hummed, “You do seem like the person to drink a Manhattan,” he licked the rim of the glass, “It’s bitter-sweet, just like you.”
“Are you inferring I fall into the sentimental category? I promise you, I am quite far from that,” you scowled softly. The smoke was definitely getting to your head.
“And what if I did?” He echoed your words.
Oh, he was teasing you.
He turns away and mindlessly sips on your drink. You silently wished that those lips of his were sipping on something else.
“...says the one drinking a Manhattan right now.”
“It’s yours.”
“It still counts.”
He rolled his eyes, clearly not letting the thought get to his head, “Then how about I order you a Dry Martini?” He smiled, turning towards you. His deep ocean-breeze cologne washed over your nose for a brief second.
It suits him.
You frowned, “Not the best fan, though I do appreciate it if you bought me a drink,” you glared at the martini glass in his hand.
His eyes trace your line of sight, and a dry laugh rings from his throat. He sets the drink on the bar and slides the half-sipped Manhattan back to you, “For you.”
You stared at the mahogany drink and looked back at him, “What’s the meaning?”
“What do you think?” He rests his face on his fist and taps the corner of his lip with another finger. You exchanged over to the drink and noticed the faint prints of his lip on the edge of the glass.
You take out the maraschino cherry and slip the stem between your ring and middle finger before gracefully tipping the glass to your lips. The composure quickly breaks as you toss your head back and down the drink.
You met his eyes, “It tastes good, better, actually. But I’m sure the real thing tastes the best.”
He chuckles at your words, “You’re quite the word wizard when you’re drunk and high.” He turns his whole body towards you and crosses his legs.
Yeah, you were definitely drunk and high. But you didn’t care.
You crushed the half-burnt cigarette in your hand and put the glass back down. Standing up from your seat, you stepped closer and bent down to reach his height, “So when can I get it?”
His icy fingers grace your exposed collarbone, landing a shiver down your spine. With a single thought, he meets your eyes with a sly smile.
“How about you earn it?”
Maybe this wasn’t so much of a mistake.
The bitterness of his liquor stained lips intertwined with yours, creating a swirling concoction inside your heart. Suddenly, it was just the two of you in this little world. The outside world was muted, silent, separated from you.
“Let’s take it to a more secluded place,” his voice felt like a loud tenor in your ear as you nodded mindlessly with his arms around your waist.
–
As soon as the door clicks, your back is pressed up against the wall with a bang, numbing your senses. His face was close to yours as his eyes gazed lustfully into yours. His slender finger caresses your face, “Your lips look so delicious,” with a single breath, he licks your mouth, and kiss you deeply.
Your body twists as his cold fingers travel down your side and slip into the waistband of your pants, “Your fingers are so cold,” you complain under your breath, to which he smiles in reply.
“And you are very warm, darling.” His voice carried a hint of mockery as he eased your pants down to your knees.
Your legs grow weak as his fingers caress your thighs and sex. A soft moan escapes your lips as he grazes the spot that causes your stomach to catch in your throat. His fingers continue to minister the area until you unwind with a soft scream in his hands.
He brings his fingers to his tongue and slowly licks your essence off of his slender hand, "You taste wonderful, especially after that little drink of yours," your face flushes as his voice deepens into a soft growl.
He gets on his knees and begins to unbutton your suit, exposing your chest to his gaze. As the last button loosened, you felt as if your armor had melted away. You felt vulnerable. Your stomach instantly tense as he kisses the middle of your chest, your waist, and your belly, leaving bright red marks as he travels down to your pelvis. You close your eyes as you feel his lips envelop your sex, slowly engulfing you in his mouth.
"Oh..." you whisper as your fingers loop into his hair, his hands keep you from falling. The room echoes with your gasps as your knees buckle from the pleasure; you become undone once again in his hold.
"So cute," he comments as he flips you around so his stomach is pressed against your back. Your legs were still shaking from the pleasure as you felt him enter inside you, stretching your walls with his girth.
Before you could catch your breath, he started moving; you flail your arms, trying to hold onto your sanity before you got drowned by lust, "Wait, wait...please," you gasp breathlessly.
Reluctantly, he slowed down and wrapped an arm around your stomach, nuzzling his head into the crevice of your neck, "Alright, I'll go slow," he muttered into your ear. He stalled for a few breaths, you relaxed around him and he took the cue and began to speed up again. The room was drowned by your whimpers and his occasional grunts, "You're so tight even when you're relaxed."
A hum followed with a broken moan was all you could force out, you were in bliss. He kisses around your back, leaving a trail of bruises in a shape of a heart.
Soon you both become undone in the embrace of one another. He pulls out as soon as he climaxes and lets his seed dribble down your back as you shiver from the stimulation and collapse onto the floor.
“Don't get so sleepy on me now," he says with a smile. You lean your body against his chest as he leads you over to the lounge area of the private room. He sets you down on the sofa, wipes your body clean, and tends to the bruises on your neck; you feel a sudden sense of comfort and warmth. His hands are warm as he dresses you up.
You both sit in uneasy silence as you watch him fix your collar, contemplation hangs in the air. You break the silence first, "So, what are we?"
He stops what he is doing and looks at you with an amused expression.
