#small blurb

℘ ྀ thinking of toxic.roman making you deep throat him while he degrades you

The loop on his laptop hits a repetitive, hypnotic bassline, vibrating through the floorboards and straight into your chest. But the only sound that really matters is the messy, desperate noise of you trying to keep up with him.

Roman doesn’t do gentle. He doesn’t do soft. He treats love like a power struggle, and you’re so hopelessly, miserably whipped that you handed him the win before he even asked for it. You’d let him ruin your life in broad daylight as long as he keeps his hands on you in the dark.

Right now, those hands—heavy, calloused, and smelling faintly of tobacco and expensive cologne—are buried deep in your hair, fistfuls of it anchoring your head firmly in place. He’s leaning back against the headboard, his dark eyes hooded and completely detached, watching you like a king inspecting his property.

"Fucking pathetic," he mutters, his voice a low, raspy gravel that sends a shiver straight down your spine. He shifts his weight, his hips moving in a slow, punishing rhythm that completely crowds your mouth.

You choke out a soft, muffled whimper, your hands gripping his thighs for balance, your nails digging into his jeans. But he only tightens his grip on your hair, forcing you to take every inch of him, entirely unbothered by the way your chest heaves for air. He pulls back just enough to let you breathe, but before you can even catch your breath, his thumb hooks under your chin, forcing your face up.

A cruel, knowing smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. He loves this. He loves knowing that he owns every single reaction out of you.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his thumb brushing roughly over your wet cheek, smearing your makeup without a shred of gentleness. "Look how pretty you look choking on it for me. You’re such a good little slut, mami."

The word slips out of him like honey and venom, and it makes your stomach completely flip. You know you should have more pride, you know your friends hate him and try to convince you to leave him, but you’re too far gone. You look up at him with total, pathetic devotion, your eyes watery and your lips parted, practically begging for whatever scraps of attention he’s willing to throw you.

He chuckles darkly at the look on your face, a sound completely devoid of warmth but intoxicating all the same. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "Yeah? You like it when I talk to you like that? You love being my bitch, don't you?"

You can only nod, a pathetic, needy movement against his hand.

"Good." He guides your head back down, his fingers tightening in your hair once more. "Then keep going. Don't stop until I tell you to, mami."

He can't help but watch the way your arms sag when you lift it from the mount, tiny sound escaping your throat. Of course it's too heavy, bigger than even the most traditional blade, fit just for him to handle and swing.

"You wanna try and take it out?" His tone is light, teasing, but it triggers some fire in your eyes. Very confidently you try and fit a hand around it's hilt, raising your arm and lifting the sword from it's sheath. Your wrist bends awkwardly, and at that moment it's realized the blade is too long for you to simply pull out.

"Uh," You grunt, trying to lift your arm higher, huffing when you only see more silver and no end. "I think it's too big for me..."

"Aaaww, keep going you got it." He steps a little closer but his arms stays folded. "Lay it down and pull it out."

"Leo-" "Just do it."

You roll your eyes but oblige him, laying it down as gently as you can, only a quarter untucked.

"Go on."

You shuffle on your knees toward the handle. That beautiful sight of you holding it, your skin against the blue rope wrapped around the wood, makes Leo shift on his feet.

Maybe he should start training you.

-------------

You proposed to him. The date you planned him was perfect. You took him to his favorite steak restaurant, then his favorite gelato spot, and a walk by the waterfront near his favorite park.

You always did sweet things like this for him, so he hadn't thought anything of it. When he turns to see you kneeling down, he asks immediately if your shoes are bothering you. He almost joined you on the floor when you pulled out a ring box.

"Johnathan Price. Every day, I wake up, so honored to have you in my life. You've always loved me, even when I've struggled. You stayed, not in spite of my struggles, but because of them. You showed me that I deserve life and love in a way no one else ever has." John sniffles, blinking quickly to try and clear his eyes, but it's useless. "Will you grant me the greatest gift in life and marry me?"

He couldn't speak, nodding his head immediately as you took his left hand. Shakily, you slide the ring onto his finger, staring at the band wrapped around it with a beaming smile. John helps you to your feet, pulling you close as he kisses you.

You gently sway in his arms, giggling quietly as you both tenderly wipe each other's face free of tears. "I can't wait to marry you." John whispers, finally beginning to calm down. He rests his forehead against yours and smiles.

"I can't wait either. The court house opens at 8 tomorrow morning. We should elope." You joke, staring into his sparkling eyes.

Calling him “pretty bird”

Listening to his reluctant purring as he tries to hold it back

Watching his face and lips twitch with restraint and a pouty glare sent your way

Laughing when he finally gives in and slumps onto you, telling you to “Stooooopppp”

another, and his neck feels like it’s been slit.

another, and he gets blasted in the face with water.

what?

he turns to Annabeth, and realizes she’s soaked. she frowns at a single square of toilet paper, and it hits him.

Clarisse. his first conscious day at Camp. the swirly that never happened. she just fucking swirlied him in Tartarus. she just saved his life.

he can feel his wounds close. he can feel the water around him. the tug in his gut is a comfort as he grabs hold of it, and starts drowning arai.

One night, after months of friendship you all go out to a night club in Zaun to get Viktor out of the lab for once, and someone in the crowd obviously recognizes you and starts to egg you on to start ‘dancing’. Jayce knows exactly what they mean by dancing as they yell at you, but poor Viktor, who thinks nothing of it is delighted at the chance to see you dance like you did on your performance night, and encourages you to join the crowd.

You move into the crowd, and disappear for a good bit, and for a while Viktor is content to sit there and sip his 3% sweet milk while he thinks about how good you look in your club outfit when suddenly the lights dim. The place fills with fog and the noise in the club dies slightly while jayce and Viktor both watch, intrigued as two shimmery poles start to extend from the ceiling a short ways away from their table, and soon a sensual but peppy beat starts to fill the place.

The energy returns, but it’s changed slightly. There’s something more charged lingering in the air making him shiver slightly. He didn’t get much of a chance to think on it though as he took the last sip of his drink before immediately spitting it out as he flushes and becomes FLOORED when YOU of all people start to descend from the pole and give him a wink while you make sultry eye contact. You hope to god he likes what he sees.

He never in a million years would have imagined this is what you meant when you said you had a “background in acrobatics and dance” and he felt like an idiot for not piecing together why you were a private performer only. The way the blood in his body starts to creep downward though, his body doesn’t seem to mind this information. Maybe you could give him a private performance one day…..fuck what he wouldn’t give to see you wrapped around him like that pole.

Having stripped quite a bit and put on some new shoes he suspected you kept in your bag, he’s infatuated with the way you start to move around the pole, up and down, side to side and round and round. The room suddenly becomes unbearably hot and his pants far too restricting and he can’t help but be hypnotized by the way your hips gyrate as you dance, and his mind begins to picture what those motions might feel like on top of him…what you’d feel like if he got to bury himself in you while you clenched.

You turn to look at him at one point and to your delight he is visibly disheveled and horny, and jayce is giving him a hard brow raise from over his cup.

Aaaaaand that’s all I have for now OWHFKHEOTHOWT IM SORRY. IM NOT A WRITER.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Warning: smut, language, surgery?

Summary: Jack demands you cook him a lunch after his surgery, but he’s supposed to be healed. As the “best” girlfriend in the world you fix up a salad and share with Jack. Jack decides he wants more to eat, but not food.

A:N- AGH first time writing for a summer blurb!! Also it’s really short bc I had lots of hw recently!! (Sorry!)

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It’s off season. Jack and I are in Michigan, Jack has been watching Quinn play, and I’ve been tanning. I called Luke to check in and he said that it’s been stressful, playing with older guys, specially ones who’ve played in worlds before.

“Baby?” Jack hollers for me.

“Coming!” I reply, I throw my Jean shorts from American Eagle in the clean pile of clothes I’ve gathered, and run upstairs. Jack and I live in the basement, and Jack likes to spend his time upstairs on the main floor watching the TV.

Normally the guys spend time downstairs playing pool, and I watch Dance Moms on the TV next to the pool table. Jack is doing well with his recovery after his surgery.

“I’m hungry, I know. It’s a lot to ask for but could you make me some avocado toast with chicken parm salad?” Jack seems like he’s on his monthly period cravings. I mean it sounds good.