also bug

pfp by angelchrysalis | oh no you found me guess i will crawl under the next rock, 21 they/them please | NSFW

[crawlinglilcritter]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

hi! i’m bug, or nikki, and i occasionally write timebomb fic.

i’m chronically ill hence the long periods between updates sometimes :)

i don’t spellcheck on here or in A/N, but the errors i make will be waaaaay less frequent in my actual writing (hopefully)

main project is How Come You Only Look Pleased in Bed but I do side projects 4 fun :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61145023

[fortunxa]

❝ IS IT CASUAL NOW ? ❞

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 full fic to . . . having a homoerotic friendship with Jinx

pairing: Jinx x fem!reader, modern au.

# cw. homoerotic friends to ???, soft dom!Jinx x power bottom!reader, bratty!Jinx x softer!reader, codependency, intoxication, double-ended dildo, mutual masturbation, size kink/size queen!Jinx, corruption kink, light degradation + praise, obedience kink-ish, overstimulation, squirting, Jinx gets too greedy, aftercare-ish, smut with plot. mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ

# word count. 7k

ᯓ ☘︎ lucky speaks: this got a bit out of hand, i was aiming for 3k words </3 kinda rushed ending! half proofread. this one goes out to the anon who suggested that Jinx is selfish with her pleasure :3

the thing about Jinx and you is that your friendship isn't normal—not by any sane standard, metric, or rulebook ever written. not when you've already burned through every normal boundary two so-called "roommates" should have.

you circle each other with a heat that polite people would call “chemistry” and honest people would call “foreplay.” you're touchy in that way girls with repressed desires often are—careless, intimate, blisteringly casual. Jinx pads around the apartment half-naked: tank top sliding off one shoulder, little shorts that could qualify as underwear, and you don't even blink anymore. your eyes might flick once—traitors—but you pretend it's casual. you change shirts in front of her, and she doesn't look away. she just pretends—badly—that she's only admiring your bra choice or collarbone or whatever flimsy excuse she can muster that day.

you share baths like it's a water bill strategy, sitting knee-to-knee in a porcelain tub too small for one person, let alone two grown women pretending not to notice how often your calves slide over each other. like shaving each other's legs is some sort of sisterly bonding activity.

she smacks your ass when she needs attention—no warning, palm heavy, echoing in the hallway—and you retaliate with a hit so hard her thigh tattoo jiggles. she calls you a slut, you call her a whore; and somehow, it lands sweeter than any "good morning" or "i love you" you don't dare say out loud ever could.

it's absurd, borderline perverted, and deeply codependent—but it's working for you. this is affection, apparently. it keeps you both fed in a way normalcy never could. and for the most part, you get away with it; neither of you acknowledges the heat simmering quietly under every touch, nor the way your shared baths grow longer, slower, full of casual nudity that doesn't feel casual at all once the steam starts clinging to the walls like a witness.

your friends pull you aside and ask how you “put up with her.” their tone always shifts—curious, confused, a little nosy—because they’ve seen the way she crowds you in doorways, the way you adjust her necklace for her, the way she tugs you onto her lap at parties half-joking, half-not. they ask why she bites your shoulder when she’s bored. they ask why you let her.

Jinx gets questions, too. people ask if you’re “a thing.” she laughs like the idea is ridiculous, even though she never denies it outright. she just shrugs and says, “we’re close,” which is a lie lacking even the respect of effort.

according to everyone else, you’re either fucking, denying that you’re fucking, or about to start fucking any second now.

"you ever think that if we were straight, people wouldn't be so obsessed with whether or not we're sleeping together?" you asked once, lost in thought, watching her take a rather ambitious hit from her bong.

"oh, we'd fuck if we were straight," she replied, voice hoarse as she coughed through smoke. "just less cutely.”

"we're not cute."

"we're fucking adorable."

and that was that. she said it like it was the simplest fact in the world. somehow, that ended the conversation—though it answered absolutely nothing.

your degeneration begins, as most scientific breakthroughs do, with online rabbit holes and questionable sobriety.

you're cross-faded, dangerous in that specific way only two girls who know each other's schedules, traumas, and bra sizes can be. you're idly stroking the ends of her hair, wearing nothing but panties and an oversized shirt you definitely stole from her laundry pile. she's wearing a pair of soft shorts and no bra, nipples visible through the fabric of her crop top and absolutely not a problem for anyone involved. you're both flushed, stupid and pliable from mixing THC and cheap sangria. you end up on your stomachs without even meaning to, slowly sliding off the couch like wax slipping off a candle, until you're sprawled on the floor in front of Jinx's laptop. it feels juvenile, like a middle school sleepover where you're googling things your parents would have killed you for.

except you're adults, and this is much, much worse.

the search history starts tame: "worst tattoos ever," "can you microdose nutmeg," and a few subreddits you'll regret opening. but the real fun begins when Jinx opens pornhub like she's pulling up a recipe for banana bread.

the carpet is soft beneath you, shoulders touching, legs kicking behind you in lazy little motions, mirroring each other's rhythm like a pair of bonded siamese cats and betraying your excitement. she clicks on the first video she sees, and something softcore loads: two girls on a bed, all sighs and colorful lighting but nothing explicit yet. barely porn by internet standards, really, but you both giggle into your hands anyway, like two corrupted schoolgirls sneaking "girls kissing" on the family computer.

and then it devolves—beautifully. somewhere between the second and third video, you morph into the most insufferable pair of sex critics the world has ever spawned.

"no lube? rookie move."

"her nails are way too long for this. she's gonna core her like a fucking apple."

"he needs to shut up. and shave his ass."

"mute him. immediately."

"no one needs a close-up like that. seriously! nobody needs a panoramic shot of swinging balls."

you're choking on laughter, bumping into each other every time one of you shakes too hard. at some point, Jinx's chin hooks over your shoulder, her breath warm against your skin as she steadies herself on you. your foot hooks behind her ankle in response, thoughtless and intimate.

somewhere in the haze of poor lighting, bad acting, and fake orgasms, you lose track of how many videos you've critiqued. obviously neither of you is going to admit that you went from mocking the performers to actually watching—that would be healthy. you're definitely not giggling because the girl's face looks really pretty when she moans. you're definitely not pressing your thighs together because the rhythm is doing something inconveniently effective to your hormones. you're definitely not shifting your hips against the carpet with a little too much intention, searching for a hint of friction.

this is fun. this is platonic. this is just two friends doing dumb shit on a friday night.

sure.

you're pretending, because that's what you're best at.

but pretending doesn't stand a chance against the algorithm, and when a toy appears in the next video—a cute-looking rabbit vibrator—Jinx perks up like a meerkat spotting danger on the horizon.

"woah, pause," she blurts, grabbing your wrist and dragging the laptop closer. "zoom in. no, go back—there!" her manicured finger taps against the screen with the kind of excitement that has historically led you both into terribly wonderful decisions. "that one actually seems fun. how much do you think it is?"

"you're joking."

she isn't. you know she isn't—her pupils are too big, her voice too soft, her interest too real. and that's the exact moment everything starts going downhill in high definition, because of course you google the brand and manage to click yourselves straight into an adult store homepage overflowing with silicone just to satiate her needs.

suddenly, the screen becomes an erotic fever dream with flashing neon banners and lube bottles sorted by flavor. the categories bloom across the header in bold fonts:

couples / vibrators / masturbators / anal toys / bondage & fetish

"what the fuck," you whisper to yourself, mildly horrified.

"what the fuck," she echoes, but with the delighted awe of a kid in a candy store. she's already scrolling like the investigator she pretends to be, nodding to herself. "ooh—gift cards! makes christmas shopping easier," she chirps.

you inhale sharply, like someone witnessing a car crash you cannot look away from, when you spot a section titled "UNUSUAL FRIENDS," featuring alien dicks and jelly-like appendages with suction cups—products that look less like sex toys and more like sci-fi movie props.

"Jinx, holy fuck. why are there so many ridges?" you gasp, jabbing a finger at a chartreuse tentacle with a price tag so high it should come with dinner and aftercare. you bury your face in the carpet, groaning into the fibers.

"there are too many ridges," she agrees solemnly, rubbing circles into your back like that might help.

you scroll further into the best-sellers: Jinx hums approvingly as glass plugs roll into view, then lets out a low whistle at a sleek, vibrating wand she was not-so-secretly considering for herself two weeks ago.

"you were eyeing that one," you point out, unable to hide the amused glint in your eyes.

"yeah," she admits, shameless, "but the shipping sucked."

then you hit the glitter section—sparkling dildos promising a "magical experience," as if the fairy godmother herself manufactures fake cocks on the side.

"no one's hole is that ambitious," you mutter.

she doesn't even miss a beat. "speak for yourself."

you smack her arm, she smacks your ass, and balance is restored to the universe.

fifteen minutes pass in a blur of silicone, sizing guides, and color options. you get distracted comparing thicknesses, she gets lost comparing vibration patterns; you both get derailed by something labeled "the diplomat."

"i refuse to understand who this is for."

"diplomats, obviously," she deadpans, scrolling away before you have to think about it too hard. she flattens her palm on the carpet, turning to you like she's about to make an announcement. "okay. we pick something just for ourselves, nothing weird. self-care, right?"

"right," you nod, trying not to visibly swallow your own heartbeat. "because we're mature."

you scroll at a cautious pace, cursor hovering over something gentle, pastel, subtle—curved just right, designed for comfort, pretty in that quietly humiliating way that reveals far too much about who you are behind closed doors.

you click it curiously.

Jinx sees.

Jinx pounces.

"awww, look at you," she croons, sliding closer like she's drawn by the scent of embarrassment, "sweet little princess picking her baby dildo."

"some of us have functioning pelvic floors," you reply flatly, giving her a lazy shove. she uses the momentum to burrow in even more, chin hooking over your shoulder again, arms half-wrapped around your waist like she's claiming real estate.

"ohhh, that's how you wanna play it?" she murmurs, nosing at your skin. she's all warmth and limbs and cheap sangria breath as she laughs into your neck.

this isn't new.

this isn't strange.

this is just… Jinx. touchy on a normal day, unbearable when she's high.

"get off," you mutter, not even pretending to mean it.

your denial has no spine.

Jinx has never minded exploiting that.

"mhmm," she hums, not listening at all, already dragging the freckled bridge of her nose along your jaw. "knew you'd go for the soft one." she presses a teasing kiss just below your ear, light but obnoxiously knowing nevertheless. her fingers curl around your hip, tugging you in. "i bet you like everything soft and gentle, hm?" she whispers, voice dropping into something hot and mean. another kiss, closer to your throat. she bites, gently, just because she can. "you melt for that shit. slow and nice and sweet—"

"please shut up." you roll your eyes—not because you disagree, but because she's right and you refuse to give her the satisfaction. your head tilts anyway, giving her more room.

she grins against your skin, practically purring, soaking in your reaction like it's her favorite narcotic. when she finally pulls back—just far enough to breathe, not far enough to give you proper space—she sits up and immediately selects something arrogant in size for herself, like she's got something to prove.

"you can't be serious," you whisper, almost in awe, blinking at the toy on the screen. "babe, that's a colonoscopy if you slip it in wrong."

she wiggles her eyebrows in response. "i like a challenge." and then, because she can't help herself, she dips back in and plants another kiss to the crook of your neck—mocking, adoring, filthy in intention but playful in delivery. "what? too big for you?" she asks dumbly, all mock innocence. "you picked your cute little pastel training wheels. i want this."

she knows exactly what she's doing. it's not a boast as much as it is a performance—a demonstration of exactly what kind of girl she is, just in case you still had any doubts. she wants you to imagine it: her struggling to take it, sweating and splitting herself open on colorful silicone and still not giving up until she's overstuffed, whining into her pillow. she wants you to know she's stubborn enough, needy enough, capable. she wants the idea to stick to your brain and rot there.

"don't worry. i'll leave the delicate stuff to you," she murmurs, lips brushing along your pulse, "let me handle the heavy lifting."

"you're fucking insufferable," you groan, but your hand drifts up to her hair all the same, giving her scalp an indulging scratch that makes her melt into you with a low, pleased sound.

"and yet," she murmurs, voice smug and velvet-soft right against your ear, "you're still letting me talk shit."

and for a while, everything is pleasant, manageable—just two girls buying masturbation supplies. you browse, you debate colors and sizes and shapes like you're picking an accent pillow. between the warmth of her body pressed along your back and the slow pulse of the laptop light, you almost forget you're shopping for things meant to make you shake and moan. if the universe had mercy, it would let you stay in this small illusion.

but because curiosity is a slippery creature, it does what it always does with the two of you: mutates into depravity.

Jinx scrolls, pauses, then scrolls back up. her finger hovers over a category neither of you has acknowledged yet—intentionally avoided, even.

"you ever used a double-ended dildo?" her voice comes out too airy and casual to be anything but interest hiding under a joke.

"where the fuck did that come from?"

"we're looking at sex toys," she says with a helpless shrug, as if that explains everything. "my brain is doing its job."

"so is mine," you say dryly. "and it's telling me you're about to say something stupid."

"okay but seriously," she presses, turning onto her side to face you fully. "have you?"

"no," you answer simply, refusing to give her any foothold. "why? you need someone to practice on?"

"bitch." she pinches your thigh sharp enough to make you jerk. "i'm just saying. seems fun."

you scoff, pretending the heat isn't already pooling low while trying to play it cool. "for who?"

"for us. obviously." she scoffs, like it's the dumbest question you've ever asked.

"yeah, okay. sure. because that's casual."

"it can be casual," Jinx insists, far too confident, far too earnest for someone suggesting a shared silicone toy. "like brushing each other's hair… but sluttier."

you stare at her. she stares back, unblinking, dead serious in the most unserious way you've seen since the day she moved in with three boxes and a promise to "never bring weird shit into the apartment."

lie number one of many.

"this is the worst metaphor anyone has ever said to me."

"what? you think women in ancient greece weren't—"

"i got the message. stop talking."

she snickers, nudging your shoulder with hers like you're in on the joke instead of actively drowning in it. "hypothetically speaking," she tries again, "if we got one—"

"hypothetically."

"hypothetically," she repeats with an exaggerated nod, holding up a finger with solemn dignity that means absolutely nothing coming from her.

"uh-uh." you sigh, already exhausted. "and what color would this hypothetical… shared dick be?"

"blue," Jinx replies instantly. "as god intended."

"you just want it to match your aesthetic. pink is literally the universal dildo color."

"boob punch incoming if you keep that up."

and suddenly, the adult store homepage doesn't feel so harmless anymore. neither do the categories. neither do the toys. neither do her eyes when she peers at you and says, "we could look at them, y'know."

everything after that happens too fast, too stupid to track—a blackout made of adrenaline and shared intoxication. you're aware of flashes, maybe: her hair brushing your cheek, your hand accidentally covering hers on the trackpad. a pink option. a blue one. her saying, "that's cute," and you mumbling, "that's nicer."

time stretches, collapses, folds in on itself. you come to, like waking up from a trance, and there it is: a pink-and-blue double-ended dildo sitting in the cart. a compromise, a diplomatic solution—like it fucking matters. as if the color would change anything about the fact that you're ordering a shared dick specifically designed to be inside both of you at once. as if the soft fade from cotton candy pink to electric blue is going to matter once you're both split open on it. as if a stupid silicone hue would distract either of you from the fact that you're ready to ruin your entire, already-rotting friendship over joint penetration.

Jinx's thumb finally hovers over the checkout button. "say please."

"for what?"

"for me to buy us a shared dick. c'mon."

"Jinx, i'm not begging for—"

"you're scared."

"of what? your pussy?"

"you should be."

click.

order confirmed.

your doom is sealed, boxed, and en route.

the world doesn't explode. no alarms go off. no divine being descends to slap the laptop out of your hands—unfortunately. you just lie there, side by side, high out of your minds while the order confirmation number glows in front of you.

"well," Jinx tries, voice cracking despite her previous bravado, "guess we're… committed?"

the screen dims, and still, neither of you moves.

because now there's a dildo—three, technically—hurtling toward your apartment through the miracle of express shipping, and you both know exactly what that could mean if you weren't cowards.

it arrives exactly three days later, in a discreet brown box—plain, innocent, offensively unlabelled. the universe hands you plausible deniability on a silver platter; the postal worker, however, drops it against the door with a thud that sounds like judgment.

"special delivery," Jinx announces as she carries it in. "our friendship just got balls-deep."

you follow her into the kitchen, scrunching your nose as you peer over her shoulder. she grabs a knife and slices the tape open, peeling the cardboard flaps back.

suddenly there's too much inside.

three toys as promised: the two personal ones you each picked, tucked neatly in their boxes… and the main attraction. the double-ended dildo sits nestled in tissue paper, pink melting into blue with a dreamy and romantic softness that not only mocks you both, but contrasts with the thickness itself.

you both stare at your purchase, heads tilting in tandem.

definitely bigger in person.

"wow," you manage, a bit breathless already. "that's… optimistic."

"still scared of it?" she asks, annoyingly gentle.

"i just think it looks…" you mutter, gesturing vaguely, "a little too eager."

"i like it eager," she replies, with the confidence of a woman who's absolutely planning to break herself on it.

"i didn't think you'd actually—"

"you literally held my hand while i checked out," Jinx reminds you—not even smug, just factual.

you clear your throat and slide it back into the box like you're taming a snake. you both drag it into her nightstand like it weighs sixty pounds of suppressed desire and shove it inside—out of sight, not even remotely out of mind.

the next few days pass in denial. you pretend it's funny, she pretends she's not waiting. you try not to think about the thickness, or the way the silicone probably gives under pressure, or how your bodies would move against each other. she keeps picking it up at inopportune times—asking your opinion on angles, positions, storage. you argue over what lube counts as "neutral."

still, neither of you says no.

and the longer it sits untouched, the harder it becomes to pretend it was just a joke.

much harder than taking it ever would be.

everything comes to a halt on a saturday—rainy, boring, insomniac-heavy. Jinx is already high, sprawled upside down with her legs hooked over the headboard, flicking her zippo open and closed in an absentminded rhythm. her shirt has rucked up over her ribs, exposing a stretch of soft, pale stomach and the freckles scattered across her hips like sugar someone spilled just to tempt you. you're sitting cross-legged on the floor, pretending you're not staring at the curve of her waist every time she shifts.

you're not even talking about sex—just bad exes and worse sexts. how both of you have better luck getting off by yourselves. how dating is exhausting, how hookups are awkward, how lately it just feels easier to not bother.

"i haven't come with someone in, like… over a year," you admit, voice small and blunt in the low light.

"what?" she blinks at you, lighter clicking shut with finality. "babe, that's negligence."

"takes too long." you shrug, rubbing your thumb along your calf. "and i hate pretending."

she studies you, and the upside down angle does nothing to soften her expression. "you wouldn't have to pretend with me," she points out simply.

"Jinx—"

"i'm just saying!" she rolls herself upright with a lazy twist, hair messy, eyes slitted with something sharper than weed. she crawls to the edge of the bed, sitting right behind you, peering over your shoulder like she's reading your pulse. "i'm practically your best friend, right? i'd trust you to make me come. easy."

you turn your head slightly, just enough to see her in your periphery, heartbeat tripping over itself. she doesn't smile yet—just watches you, waiting for your brain to catch up.

"that's not what i—you can't just say things like that," you manage, conflicted.

"why not?" she asks softly. her voice has changed—lower, smoother, threaded with something warm enough to curl around your ribs. she shifts off the bed, landing quietly on her knees behind you. her presence wraps around you like heat, legs bracketing your hips without quite touching. her hands come to rest lightly on your shoulders, thumbs brushing slow arcs into your skin—testing, wordlessly asking. "i'm serious," she murmurs into your ear, making your skin prickle. "you hate pretending. i hate pretending. feels like an obvious solution."

oh, the irony. the staggering, ridiculous irony—pretending is all you've ever done with her. your entire friendship is a performance; touchier than friends, cleaner than lovers, stitched together with denial and long looks you both refuse to name.

and now she says she's tired of it, like you both didn't build your whole dynamic on it. you're not sure whether to laugh or scream or call her out on it.

but the hypocrisy tastes sweet coming from her mouth.

"that's not fair…"

"hey," Jinx soothes, fingers sliding from your shoulders to your upper arms, slow enough to feel intentional but not indecent just yet. "you said it yourself. it's hard with other people. too much pressure, too much bullshit."

you simply nod, small and helpless, because you can't seem to do anything else.

"but not with me," she continues, voice dripping with something unbearably coaxing and decadent. "i know you. you wouldn't have to fake a thing." she leans in, chest to your back, her breath ghosting down the side of your neck. "i could help you… if you wanted."

a beat, then another. her hands glide down your arms again, stopping just above your elbows—gentle, deliberate, grounding.

"i can do it for you," she adds, softer this time, as if she's afraid you'll spook if she pushes too hard. "you deserve someone who actually pays attention."

you swallow—too hard, too loud—but at least the sound means your throat is still working.

"i'd pay attention. i'd make it good," she murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear lightly. "you know i would."

"fuck," you breathe out involuntarily, and she exhales like the sound of you needing her is its own high.

"mhmm," Jinx hums, smiling into your neck. "i can do it for you." her fingers skate down your sides, slow and teasing, until her hands curve around your waist, drawing you back into her in a soft-bodied claim. "we already have the toy."

the words go off inside you like a shot. your stomach flips violently, thighs pressing together before you can stop them, and she tightens her grip on you just a fraction, just enough to tell you she liked it.

"yeah," she breathes, her teeth grazing your jaw like it's taking everything in her to hold back. "it'll just be you and me, like always." her hands slide slowly up your waist, fingertips pressing into the most sensitive spots she has no business of knowing this well. "tell me you don't want that."

you can't speak. you can barely breathe, really. your whole body is trembling now, betraying you as you lean back, practically offering yourself to her.

"or…" her voice drops into a velvety kind of whisper, like she knows what comes next, "tell me to keep going."

you strip because she does; Jinx strips because she's been waiting for the excuse. the second her shirt comes off, she looks lighter, energized. her shorts drop to the floor, and she kicks them away with ridiculous enthusiasm. her body is a map you know well: the scattered freckles on her chest, the faint scars across her thighs, marks you've noticed a hundred times but somehow feel new under this lighting.

and when she drops her panties, there's the bush—slightly darker than her hair, shaved down into a cute little heart. a blue heat-center you're not supposed to care about.

you're trying to look calm, but your skin feels too tight, every breath a little too sharp. there's nothing unfamiliar about the nudity, but this is different—this is intent, stripping for each other, stripping for sex.

you set the rules almost too quickly: ass to ass, no kissing, also known as the commandments of cowards. because it can't be too intimate, obviously; it can't look like what it actually is. it's not about you after all, right? it's about… curiosity, biology, friction.

the lube is cold as Jinx warms it between her palms, but her hands are shaking with how badly she wants this—wants you, wants this boundary erased, wants the physical proof that she was always right about the two of you. you lie on your side, already soaked, rubbing gentle circles over your clit—enough to take the edge off while keeping yourself aching. she watches openly, unblinking and pupils blown, like seeing your body react is something she's wanted for months.

"if we go ass to ass," she finally says, coating both ends of the dildo with just enough lube, like she's been practicing on fantasies of you, "then it's not, like… intimate intimate."

"you mean if we don't make eye contact while we fuck each other at the same time?"

"exactly!" she beams, almost giddy. "it's practically platonic."

your laugh breaks halfway through, dissolving into a helpless sound you don't want her to hear. you eventually end up on all fours: face down, backs turned, knees digging into the mattress, toy heavy and slick in your hands.

"okay," Jinx breathes, settling behind you, crouched and buzzing with anticipation, "on the count of three."

you nod, though your head is spinning. she's excited—genuinely, stupidly excited—because to her, this is a door she's been secretly pressing her weight against for months, waiting for the slightest give.

and tonight, you've opened it for her. this moment? this setup? this is the closest she's ever been to getting what she's wanted from you.

"one."

"two."

"three—wait!" she suddenly bursts into cackles. "are we going in together or, like… alternating? i feel like we need a traffic system."

"Jinx!" you whine,spine arching involuntarily, nearly collapsing forward. "please."

"right, right. shutting up."

liar.

you feel dizzy before it even starts. your thighs tremble as you press back slowly, guiding the blunt head in, letting it nudge you open with a faint whimper. you freeze for a split second, humiliated by your own voice. it's not instant pleasure—it's too big for that, too much. "shit," you whisper, your movements shallow and tentative.

"cute when you swear."

"you're already pushing it."

"i'm pushing it, alright."

behind you, Jinx grunts softly—a sound so hungry it tells you she's already taking more than she should, already pushing herself further than you are. you can only imagine it: pink folds dwarfed by the sheer thickness of the toy, taking inch after inch like she's starving for it, hazy-eyed. you don't have to look at her to know it.

"fuuuck, you feel that?" her voice is all grit, low and wild. "i forgot how good that is."

she hasn't; she just likes saying it out loud. she likes reminding you what kind of girl she is—soaked, sensitive, cockdrunk the second something's inside her. she wants you to hear it. she wants her own filth to rub off on you, like a sick little claim.

"this is—" she laughs under her breath, delighted and disgusting all at once, "—so fucked. even for us."

you're too busy gasping into your palm to answer, trembling as you take more. every time you try to steady yourself, another ripple of sensation knocks you off balance, punching moans out of you at the worst moments. and Jinx is eating it up. she's the first to start moving properly, grinding back slow and low, making the dildo push forward, forcing it deeper into you and bridging you both. she's loving this—the stretch, the pressure, the greedy fullness. it hits something inside her brain like a switch every time. no one else knows that, but she hopes you do—she wants you to.

you whine, hand slipping between your legs to rub fast, wet circles over your throbbing clit, walls fluttering frantically as they struggle to adjust.

"you're fucking tight, huh?" Jinx rasps, voice cracking around the edges of a laugh she’s too far gone to swallow. she fucks herself down on the toy with more force that necessary, grinning through it, wanting to feel you flinch underneath every slam of her hips. she's always been the impatient one, a greedy little whore when it comes to sensation; so she rolls her hips back harder, meaner, gasping when the stretch doubles through the toy, knowing full well that every thrust slams right back into you.

she’s bullying your g-spot over and over, wanting to push you, overwhelm you, watch you fall apart faster than her; she's enjoying your struggle even more than her own pleasure. she loves how much power she has over you, how she can make your voice stutter and your thoughts go fuzzy just from being a little selfish.

"poor baby can't take it already?” her tone is pure corruption—soft, mocking, coaxing, loving the way your breath stutters every time she speaks. “god, you’re adorable.”

"don't… don't say that—"

"mmh," she groans, pleased and vicious all at once. "knew it. knew you'd be like this."

"like what?" you manage, though your voice is shaking.

"like everything i imagined," she whispers. "sweet, overwhelmed. trying so hard to keep up."

you let out another broken sound, strangled and humiliating, and she shudders behind you—a full-body reaction she doesn't bother hiding.

"yeah," she pants, and you can hear the smile in her voice. "give me that. let me hear you."

you don't even notice how frantic your movements have become until the bed starts creaking with the motion, but you both keep grinding, fucked full on either end of the same dripping thing. your knees spread wider, backs bowing further and further as you keep chasing the spot that'll make your vision swim. the toy finally gives and bottoms out, leaving no room to pretend. it disappears between you and forces your pussies to press close, flushed lips parting against each other from the pressure.

Jinx registers it first and lets out a filthy little giggle, bottom lip happily caught between her teeth. "clits are kissing," she points out. "that's so fucking cute."

you choke on a moan, entire body tensing as you try to pull forward, but the dildo is buried—locking you in place, folds rubbing against hers, wet and swollen. "Jinx! just… shut the fuck up—"

"don't move!" she pants, voice high, panic and exhilaration tangled together. "don't you fucking dare—this is perfect."

"Jinx, please… fuck!”

"you feel that, right? feel how wet we are?" she rocks her hips in deliberate circles as if to emphasize her point. your juices mix, sticky and hot between your mashed folds, clits making out together with each thrust. "that's your slick on my clit. you're soaking me."

you're gone—grinding, whining, barely keeping yourself upright as your nails dig into the colorful sheets beneath you. "it's too much… s'too deep, i can't—"

"nuh-uh. you'll take it," she snaps, hips slamming back, wanting to feel you buckle under her. "you'll learn to take it. right here, with me."

you try to keep the rhythm, but Jinx has no sense of moderation, no concept of pacing. you're both moving, sure, but she's the one dragging you into her tempo, like you're an accessory to her pleasure. she's bouncing a little now—short, fast thrusts that make the toy slap wetly between you, obscene in the otherwise quiet apartment. of course she's not even trying to hold back; she's not built for restraint. not when she can feel the toy tug and push with every needy grind of her hips.

and the whole time, she’s loud on purpose. not performative—Jinx doesn’t do fake. but she doesn’t bite back a single moan, not one strained whimper, not a breathy curse. she lets every sound spill out of her, messy and unfiltered, because she knows you can hear her. because she wants you to. she’s loud because she wants you undone by the fact that she’s getting off on you.

it's making you lose composure faster than you want to; you need something to cling to while she's ruining you from behind so easily without even looking. you're overwhelmed, dizzy and trembling, but something about that intensity feels right, like she's pressing buttons you didn't know you had. you reach back blindly, hand fumbling for purchase until it finds her thigh, fingers digging into the soft and creamy flesh to ground yourself. her whole body jumps at the contact, driving the dildo deeper. her brain is pure static by now, near delirious, but she lives for this—you being full, stretched, used, needing her.

your sounds build: moans layered, breaths stuttering, skin slapping, slick squelching. "you sound so fucked out," she giggles, eyes wide and unfocused. "i haven't even touched you." but then she grabs for you, too—one hand gripping the soft meat of your ass, anchoring herself and driving harder. "mmph—harder! c'mon, sweet girl."

you obey before you can think, hand clawing into her hip now, yanking her back. the sound she makes when she feels you commit nearly undoes you. her eyes roll back, and your name starts falling from her lips like a mantra—over and over between high-pitched moans and sobs of pleasure. she tries to touch herself, tries to stay ahead of the sensation, and you can hear how sloppy it is. she's chasing the kind of friction that only makes things overstimulating; she twitches away from her own touch, then forces herself right back into the feeling like she refuses to slow down.

"there you go. good fucking girl," she breathes proudly, voice breaking on a whimper. "you're not—mmph—used to this, huh? bet you're loving it anyway."

she's losing to her own greed, and you're losing to the desperate need to keep up with her, to not disappoint her. you want to be the one who can keep up with the girl who never holds back.

"fuckfuckfuck—i'm right there, m'gonna come—don't stop—"

you beat her to it when your body arches, mouth opening in a silent scream, thighs clenching as your orgasm rips through you—hot and humiliating, gushing around the toy as your pussy sucks it in with each spasm. Jinx groans behind you, hips jerking back with a final slap, pressing your asses flush. she arches and clings to the headboard, face crumpled, borderline sobbing through the unforgiving release as her cunt clenches hard around the other end.

and then you hear it—a heavy, squirting sound as more wetness pools between your locked bodies, soaking the back of your thighs and darkening the sheets beneath you. "oh—fuck—oh my god—" she chokes out, half-laughing, half-crying, the sound coming out wrecked and startled, drunk on her orgasm. "i—gah—i didn't—holy shit!"

you let out a prolonged moan, grinding faintly through the aftershocks as relief floods your body like never before. your releases coat the toy, sticking between your folds in a shared mess—there's no way to tell whose slick is whose anymore. but while you're already done, already whimpering, shaking and breathless, Jinx keeps moving.

"Jinx, wait! shit—" you gasp, but the words barely come out, dissolving into a violent twitch. "m'too sensitive—"

"just a little more… please, don't pull away yet," she whines, only half-apologetic as she tightens her grip and holds you in place.

relentless. greedy. selfish.

because if she still can, she will.

her hips roll back into yours, sticky cunt smearing against yours, toy still buried so deep it squelches when she moves. you feel her clit throbbing right against yours, making you mewl faintly into the pillow, helpless.

"be good," she whimpers, almost pleadingly. "i don't even wanna come—just wanna—"

you try to bear it, to stay with her through the last of it, but your body betrays you, fucked open and raw—you're flinching, toes curled, pussy fluttering around the toy in overstimulated panic. it's the sound of your wet, ruined sob that finally cracks something open in Jinx.

she lets go, hand going slack and falling from your hip, chest heaving. you slump forward at the loss of your anchor, only dragging the toy along your sensitive walls, face buried in the sheets. she peers over her shoulder, dazed and blinking, suddenly aware of how tightly she held on, how hard she came, how much she took.

she pulls the dildo out of you first, movements gentle and careful as to not stimulate you further, before slipping it out of herself with a wet pop and tossing it aside.

"shit, i'm sorry. i didn't—i got carried away. are you—” her voice cracks, the apology tangling itself into something almost scared. "are you okay?"

you can't answer immediately; your lungs don't work yet. your entire body is shuddering as the overstimulation riots under your skin. everything feels too hot, too bright, too intense… but not bad. not wrong.

she inches closer, but not enough to crowd you—just enough that you can feel her warmth at your back, uncertain, guilty, waiting for the verdict like she expects you to flinch.

“sweetheart,” she tries again, barely audible, “talk to me. please.”

it takes a full, shaking breath before you can form any sound at all. then another breath before the sound turns into a laugh—soft, cracked, delirious. you lift your head and let out a stunned, breathless giggle that makes your shoulders shake. “Jinx,” you manage, voice wrecked beyond dignity, “holy shit.”

she blinks, startled. “that's not an answer.”

you laugh again—a messy, fucked out little sound—and flop onto your side, facing away so she doesn’t see the stupid smile stretching your lips. “i’m okay,” you pant, still trembling. “i’m… jesus. i'm okay. that was just—” you swallow, cheeks burning, “—a lot.”

Jinx exhales like she’s been underwater. for the first time since the high swallowed her, she lets her hand rest on your bare back—light, cautious, trembling with the leftover adrenaline. "you fucking scared me. i thought i overdid it."

you shake your head, still giggling weakly. "i'm just fried. need a second."

she lets out a shaky breath that sounds like relief and something more awestruck. “you sure?” she asks, softer.

you finally look back at her, eyes heavy, lips parted, expression stupidly dazed. “Jinx,” you whisper, “that was insane.”

her whole posture melts. the guilt, the panic, the tension? it all drains at once, replaced by a grin that’s half proud, half disbelieving, all Jinx. “yeah?” she murmurs, settling beside you like she’s afraid to jostle you. “yeah… it kinda was.”

she moves closer, cunt still throbbing faintly from her orgasm, lips wet and shiny from drooling just the tiniest bit in the heat of it all. she tucks her face into your neck, nose against the soft warmth of your skin, breathing you in like you're the only real thing left in the world. she's soft, completely undone in a way she usually doesn't let anyone see. your fingers trail up her spine, gentle, stroking like you're afraid she might disappear if you press too hard, heart still stuttering against your ribs.

you both know where you are—the after. the part where the rules get reassembled as if they still matter. the part where you should laugh it off and pretend it didn't mean anything.

but Jinx isn't moving. she's not making a joke. she's not hiding. she stays curled into you, hovering close, mouth brushing the line of your jaw. and when you turn your head just enough to meet her eyes, you can see the ruined look in her face—burning but tender, like she's seeing you for the first time and it's too much to handle.

her voice comes out hoarse, a whisper against your mouth when she speaks again.

"i"m gonna break the rule."

theres barely time to breathe before she does.

she kisses you like she's been waiting forever, slow and deep, lips parting with the softest sigh as her tongue slides in, tentative but smooth. you open for her instantly, hand sliding to her cheek, pulling her closer, bodies already pressed together but suddenly not close enough. you kiss like cats drink milk—long, slow licks, tongues brushing in the softest glide, breaths catching with every shifts. she whimpers into it, hips grinding just once against your thigh like she can't help herself. you moan back, licking softly into her mouth, like tasting her there is simply a continuation of everything you had already done.

and maybe this is kind of intimate.

but not like that, right?

— divider by @/cursed-carmine !!

how it feels to write smut sometimes. i physically cannot drop them in the middle of it with no context or buildup. next thing i’m posting will be bite-sized i am TIRED.

— says girl who is doing this to herself for the love of the game

[snugbuginrug]

HELLO! I have been working on this for…. Over three months? It’s my first time doing digital art and I’ve been enjoying it so much— even with all of its frustrations. I think I might actually rlly like how this came out. And I learned so so much. :D THANK YOU!!

[crawlinglilcritter]

“Hey bug you haven’t been updating your fics—“ I KNOW. SHHH. I DREW THIS!!!! I AM LEARNING HOW TO DRAW. LOOK AT THEMMMMMM. I DID THIS. OHHHHHHHHHH MY GOD.

Don’t repost elsewhere without permission and don’t use without asking me. Do not feed to AI and do not upload to Pinterest.

[boom-fortune]

...😳💥

[curingourhearts]

Bad attempts are better than no attempts. You will always lose, if you fail regardless of all your attempts that might suck but at least you won't be able to tell yourself that you didn't try. If you think you're going to fail at least allow yourself to have that comforting thought that you did try. Why would you do yourself short without ever even giving yourself a chance to try it? It doesn't help you, and it doesn't help anyone else either.

[0wee]

У меня перерыв в рисовании поэтому вот немного туториалов которыми я пользуюсь ;P

————————————————————————————

I'm taking a break from drawing, so here are some guides that I use ;P

[fortunxa]

❝ IS IT CASUAL NOW ? ❞

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 full fic to . . . having a homoerotic friendship with Jinx

pairing: Jinx x fem!reader, modern au.

# cw. homoerotic friends to ???, soft dom!Jinx x power bottom!reader, bratty!Jinx x softer!reader, codependency, intoxication, double-ended dildo, mutual masturbation, size kink/size queen!Jinx, corruption kink, light degradation + praise, obedience kink-ish, overstimulation, squirting, Jinx gets too greedy, aftercare-ish, smut with plot. mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ

# word count. 7k

ᯓ ☘︎ lucky speaks: this got a bit out of hand, i was aiming for 3k words </3 kinda rushed ending! half proofread. this one goes out to the anon who suggested that Jinx is selfish with her pleasure :3

the thing about Jinx and you is that your friendship isn't normal—not by any sane standard, metric, or rulebook ever written. not when you've already burned through every normal boundary two so-called "roommates" should have.

you circle each other with a heat that polite people would call “chemistry” and honest people would call “foreplay.” you're touchy in that way girls with repressed desires often are—careless, intimate, blisteringly casual. Jinx pads around the apartment half-naked: tank top sliding off one shoulder, little shorts that could qualify as underwear, and you don't even blink anymore. your eyes might flick once—traitors—but you pretend it's casual. you change shirts in front of her, and she doesn't look away. she just pretends—badly—that she's only admiring your bra choice or collarbone or whatever flimsy excuse she can muster that day.

you share baths like it's a water bill strategy, sitting knee-to-knee in a porcelain tub too small for one person, let alone two grown women pretending not to notice how often your calves slide over each other. like shaving each other's legs is some sort of sisterly bonding activity.

she smacks your ass when she needs attention—no warning, palm heavy, echoing in the hallway—and you retaliate with a hit so hard her thigh tattoo jiggles. she calls you a slut, you call her a whore; and somehow, it lands sweeter than any "good morning" or "i love you" you don't dare say out loud ever could.

it's absurd, borderline perverted, and deeply codependent—but it's working for you. this is affection, apparently. it keeps you both fed in a way normalcy never could. and for the most part, you get away with it. neither of you acknowledges the heat simmering quietly under every touch; nor the way your shared baths grow longer, slower, full of casual nudity that doesn't feel casual at all once the steam starts clinging to the walls like a witness.

your friends pull you aside and ask how you “put up with her.” their tone always shifts—curious, confused, a little nosy—because they’ve seen the way she crowds you in doorways, the way you adjust her necklace for her, the way she tugs you onto her lap at parties half-joking, half-not. they ask why she bites your shoulder when she’s bored. they ask why you let her.

Jinx gets questions, too. people ask if you’re “a thing.” she laughs like the idea is ridiculous, even though she never denies it outright. she just shrugs and says, “we’re close,” which is a lie lacking even the respect of effort.

according to everyone else, you’re either fucking, denying that you’re fucking, or about to start fucking any second now.

"you ever think that if we were straight, people wouldn't be so obsessed with whether or not we're sleeping together?" you asked once, lost in thought, watching her take a rather ambitious hit from her bong.

"oh, we'd fuck if we were straight," she replied, voice hoarse as she coughed through smoke. "just less cutely.”

"we're not cute."

"we're fucking adorable."

and that was that. she said it like it was the simplest fact in the world. somehow, that ended the conversation—though it answered absolutely nothing.

your degeneration begins, as most scientific breakthroughs do, with online rabbit holes and questionable sobriety.

you're cross-faded, dangerous in that specific way only two girls who know each other's schedules, traumas, and bra sizes can be. you're idly stroking the ends of her hair, wearing nothing but panties and an oversized shirt you definitely stole from her laundry pile. she's wearing a pair of soft shorts and no bra, nipples visible through the fabric of her crop top and absolutely not a problem for anyone involved. you're both flushed, stupid and pliable from mixing THC and cheap sangria. you end up on your stomachs without even meaning to, slowly sliding off the couch like wax slipping off a candle, until you're sprawled on the floor in front of Jinx's laptop. it feels juvenile, like a middle school sleepover where you're googling things your parents would have killed you for.

except you're adults, and this is much, much worse.

the search history starts tame: "worst tattoos ever," "can you microdose nutmeg," and a few subreddits you'll regret opening. but the real descent begins when Jinx opens pornhub like she's pulling up a recipe for banana bread.

the carpet is soft beneath you, shoulders touching, legs kicking behind you in lazy little motions, mirroring each other's rhythm like a pair of bonded siamese cats and betraying your excitement. she clicks on the first video she sees, and something softcore loads: two girls on a bed, all sighs and colorful lighting but nothing explicit yet. barely porn by internet standards, really, but you both giggle into your hands anyway, like two corrupted schoolgirls sneaking "girls kissing" on the family computer.

and then it devolves—beautifully. somewhere between the second and third video, you morph into the most insufferable pair of sex critics the world has ever spawned.

"no lube? rookie move."

"her nails are way too long for this. she's gonna core her like a fucking apple."

"he needs to shut up. and shave his ass."

"mute him. immediately."

"no one needs a close-up like that. seriously! nobody needs a panoramic shot of swinging balls."

you're choking on laughter, bumping into each other every time one of you shakes too hard. at some point, Jinx's chin hooks over your shoulder, her breath warm against your skin as she steadies herself on you. your foot hooks behind her ankle in response, thoughtless and intimate.

somewhere in the haze of poor lighting, bad acting, and fake orgasms, you lose track of how many videos you've critiqued. obviously neither of you is going to admit that you went from mocking the performers to actually watching—that would be healthy. you're definitely not giggling because the girl's face looks really pretty when she moans. you're definitely not pressing your thighs together because the rhythm is doing something inconveniently effective. you're definitely not shifting your hips against the carpet with a little too much intention, searching for a hint of friction.

this is fun. this is platonic. this is just two friends doing dumb shit on a friday night.

sure.

you're pretending, because that's what you're best at.

but pretending doesn't stand a chance against the algorithm, because a toy appears in the next video—a cute-looking rabbit vibrator—and Jinx perks up like a meerkat spotting danger on the horizon.

"woah, pause," she blurts, grabbing your wrist and dragging the laptop closer. "zoom in. no, go back—there!" her manicured finger taps against the screen with the kind of excitement that has historically led you both into terribly wonderful decisions. "that one actually seems fun. how much do you think it is?"

"you're joking."

she isn't. you know she isn't—her pupils are too big, her voice too soft, her interest too real. and that's the exact moment everything starts going downhill in high definition, because of course you google the brand and manage to click yourselves straight into an adult store homepage overflowing with silicone just to satiate her needs.

suddenly, the screen becomes an erotic fever dream with flashing neon banners and lube bottles sorted by flavor. the categories bloom across the header in bold fonts:

couples / vibrators / masturbators / anal toys / bondage & fetish

"what the fuck," you whisper to yourself, mildly horrified.

"what the fuck," she echoes, but with the delighted awe of a kid in a candy store. she's already scrolling like the investigator she pretends to be, nodding to herself. "ooh—gift cards! makes christmas shopping easier," she chirps.

you inhale sharply, like someone witnessing a car crash you cannot look away from, when you spot a section titled "UNUSUAL FRIENDS," featuring alien dicks and jelly-like appendages with suction cups—products that look less like sex toys and more like sci-fi movie props.

"Jinx, holy fuck. why are there so many ridges?" you gasp, jabbing a finger at a chartreuse tentacle with a price tag so high it should come with dinner and aftercare. you bury your face in the carpet, groaning into the fibers.

"there are too many ridges," she agrees solemnly, rubbing circles into your back like that might help.

you scroll further into the best-sellers: Jinx hums approvingly as glass plugs roll into view, then lets out a low whistle at a sleek, vibrating wand she was not-so-secretly considering for herself two weeks ago.

"you were eyeing that one," you point out, unable to hide the amused glint in your eyes.

"yeah," she admits, shameless, "but the shipping sucked."

then you hit the glitter section—sparkling dildos promising a "magical experience," as if the fairy godmother manufactures fake cocks on the side.

"no one's hole is that ambitious," you mutter.

she doesn't even miss a beat. "speak for yourself."

you smack her arm, she smacks your ass, and balance is restored to the universe.

fifteen minutes pass in a blur of silicone, sizing guides, and color options. you get distracted comparing thicknesses, she gets lost comparing vibration patterns; you both get derailed by something labeled "the diplomat."

"i refuse to understand who this is for."

"diplomats, obviously," she deadpans, scrolling away before you have to think too hard about it. she flattens her palm on the carpet, turning to you like she's about to make an announcement. "okay. we pick something just for ourselves, nothing weird. self-care, right?"

"right," you nod, trying not to visibly swallow your own heartbeat. "because we're mature."

you scroll at a cautious pace, cursor hovering over something gentle, pastel, subtle—curved just right, designed for comfort, pretty in that quietly humiliating way that reveals far too much about who you are behind closed doors.

you click it curiously.

Jinx sees.

Jinx pounces.

"awww, look at you," she croons, sliding closer like she's drawn by the scent of embarrassment, "sweet little princess picking her baby dildo."

"some of us have functioning pelvic floors," you reply flatly, giving her a lazy shove. she uses the momentum to burrow in even more, chin hooking over your shoulder again, arms half-wrapped around your waist like she's claiming real estate.

"ohhh, that's how you wanna play it?" she murmurs, nosing at your skin. she's all warmth and limbs and cheap sangria breath as she laughs into your neck.

this isn't new.

this isn't strange.

this is just… Jinx. touchy on a normal day, unbearable when she's high.

"get off," you mutter, not even pretending to mean it.

your denial has no spine.

Jinx has never minded exploiting that.

"mhmm," she hums, not listening at all, already dragging the freckled bridge of her nose along your jaw. "knew you'd go for the soft one." she presses a teasing kiss just below your ear, light and obnoxiously knowing. her fingers curl around your hip, tugging you in. "i bet you like everything soft and gentle, hm?" she whispers, voice dropping into something hot and mean. another kiss, closer to your throat. she bites, gently, just because she can. "you melt for that shit. slow and nice and sweet—"

"please shut up." you roll your eyes—not because you disagree, but because she's right and you refuse to give her the satisfaction. your head tilts anyway, giving her more room.

she grins against your skin, practically purring, soaking in your reaction like it's her favorite narcotic. when she finally pulls back—just far enough to breathe, not far enough to give you proper space—she sits up and immediately selects something arrogant in size for herself, like she's got something to prove.

"you can't be serious," you whisper, almost in awe, blinking at the toy on the screen. "babe, that's a colonoscopy if you slip it in wrong."

she wiggles her eyebrows in response. "i like a challenge." and then, because she can't help herself, she dips back in and plants another kiss to the crook of your neck—mocking, adoring, filthy in intention but playful in delivery. "what? too big for you?" she asks dumbly, all mock innocence. "you picked your cute little pastel training wheels. i want this."

she knows exactly what she's doing. it's not a boast—it's a performance, a demonstration of exactly what kind of girl she is just in case you still had any doubts. she wants you to imagine it: her struggling to take it, sweating and splitting herself open on colorful silicone and still not giving up until she's overstuffed, whining into her pillow. she wants you to know she's stubborn enough, needy enough, capable. she wants the idea to stick to your brain and rot there.

"don't worry. i'll leave the delicate stuff to you," she murmurs, lips brushing along your pulse, "let me handle the heavy lifting."

"you're fucking insufferable," you groan, but your hand drifts up to her hair all the same, giving her scalp an indulging scratch that makes her melt into you with a low, pleased sound.

"and yet," she murmurs, voice smug and velvet-soft right against your ear, "you're still letting me talk shit."

and for a while, everything is pleasant, manageable—just two girls buying masturbation supplies. you browse, you debate colors and sizes and shapes like you're picking an accent pillow. between the warmth of her body pressed along your back and the slow pulse of the laptop light, you almost forget you're shopping for things meant to make you shake and moan. if the universe had mercy, it would let you stay in this small illusion.

but because curiosity is a slippery creature, it does what it always does with the two of you: mutates into depravity.

Jinx scrolls, pauses, then scrolls back up. her finger hovers over a category neither of you has acknowledged yet—intentionally avoided, even.

"you ever used a double-ended dildo?" her voice comes out too airy and casual to be anything but interest hiding under a joke.

"where the fuck did that come from?"

"we're looking at sex toys," she says with a helpless shrug, as if that explains everything. "my brain is doing its job."

"so is mine," you say dryly. "and it's telling me you're about to say something stupid."

"okay but seriously," she presses, turning onto her side to face you fully. "have you?"

"no," you answer simply, refusing to give her any foothold. "why? you need someone to practice on?"

"bitch." she pinches your thigh sharp enough to make you jerk. "i'm just saying. seems fun."

you scoff, pretending the heat isn't already pooling low while trying to play it cool. "for who?"

"for us. obviously." she scoffs, like it's the dumbest question you've ever asked.

"yeah, okay. sure. because that's casual."

"it can be casual," Jinx insists, far too confident, far too earnest for someone suggesting a shared silicone toy. "like brushing each other's hair… but sluttier."

you stare at her. she stares back, unblinking, dead serious in the most unserious way you've seen since the day she moved in with three boxes and a promise to "never bring weird shit into the apartment."

lie number one of many.

"this is the worst metaphor anyone has ever said to me."

"what? you think women in ancient greece weren't—"

"i got the message. stop talking."

she snickers, nudging your shoulder with hers like you're in on the joke instead of actively drowning in it. "hypothetically speaking," she tries again, "if we got one—"

"hypothetically."

"hypothetically," she repeats with an exaggerated nod, holding up a finger with solemn dignity that means absolutely nothing coming from her.

"uh-uh." you sigh, already exhausted. "and what color would this hypothetical… shared dick be?"

"blue," Jinx replies instantly. "as god intended."

"you just want it to match your aesthetic. pink is literally the universal dildo color."

"boob punch incoming if you keep that up."

and suddenly, the adult store homepage doesn't feel so harmless anymore. neither do the categories. neither do the toys. neither do her eyes when she peers at you and says, "we could look at them, y'know."

everything after that happens too fast, too stupid to track—a blackout made of adrenaline and shared intoxication. you're aware of flashes, maybe: her hair brushing your cheek, your hand accidentally covering hers on the trackpad. a pink option. a blue one. her saying, "that's cute," and you mumbling, "that's nicer."

time stretches, collapses, folds in on itself. you come to, like waking up from a trance, and there it is: a pink-and-blue double-ended dildo sitting in the cart. a compromise, a diplomatic solution—like it fucking matters. as if the color would change anything about the fact that you're ordering a shared dick specifically designed to be inside both of you at once. as if the soft fade from cotton candy pink to electric blue is going to matter once you're both split open on it. as if a stupid silicone hue would distract either of you from the fact that you're ready to ruin your entire, already-rotting friendship over joint penetration.

Jinx's thumb finally hovers over the checkout button. "say please."

"for what?"

"for me to buy us a shared dick. c'mon."

"Jinx, i'm not begging for—"

"you're scared."

"of what? your pussy?"

"you should be."

click.

order confirmed.

your doom is sealed, boxed and en route.

the world doesn't explode. no alarms go off. no divine being descends to slap the laptop out of your hands—unfortunately. you just lie there, side by side, high out of your minds while the order confirmation number glows in front of you.

"well," Jinx tries, voice cracking despite her previous bravado, "guess we're… committed?"

the screen dims, and still, neither of you moves.

because now there's a dildo—three, technically—hurtling toward your apartment through the miracle of express shipping, and you both know exactly what that could mean if you weren't cowards.

it arrives exactly three days later, in a discreet brown box—plain, innocent, offensively unlabelled. the universe hands you plausible deniability on a silver platter; the postal worker, however, drops it against the door with a thud that sounds like judgment.

"special delivery," Jinx announces as she carries it in. "our friendship just got balls-deep."

you follow her into the kitchen, scrunching your nose as you peer over her shoulder. she grabs a knife and slices the tape open, peeling the cardboard flaps back.

and suddenly there's too much inside.

three toys: the two personal ones you each picked, tucked neatly in their boxes… and the main attraction. the double-ended dildo sits nestled in tissue paper, pink melting into blue with a dreamy and romantic softness that not only mocks you both, but contrasts with the thickness itself.

you both stare at your purchase, heads tilting in tandem.

definitely bigger in person.

"wow," you manage, a bit breathless already. "that's… optimistic."

"still scared of it?" she asks, annoyingly gentle.

"i just think it looks…" you mutter, gesturing vaguely, "a little too eager."

"i like it eager," she replies, with the confidence of a woman who's absolutely planning to break herself on it.

"i didn't think you'd actually—"

"you literally held my hand while i checked out," Jinx reminds you—not even smug, just factual.

you clear your throat and slide it back into the box like you're taming a snake. you both drag it into her nightstand like it weighs sixty pounds of suppressed desire and shove it inside—out of sight, not even remotely out of mind.

the next few days pass in denial. you pretend it's funny, she pretends she's not waiting. you try not to think about the thickness, or the way the silicone probably gives under pressure, or how your bodies would move against each other. she keeps picking it up at inopportune times—asking your opinion on angles, positions, storage. you argue over what lube counts as "neutral."

still, neither of you says no.

ans the longer it sits untouched, the harder it becomes to pretend it was just a joke.

much harder than taking it ever would be.

everything comes to a halt on a saturday—rainy, boring, insomniac-heavy. Jinx is already high, sprawled upside down with her legs hooked over the headboard, flicking her zippo open and closed in an absentminded rhythm. her shirt has rucked up over her ribs, exposing a stretch of soft, pale stomach and the freckles scattered across her hips like sugar someone spilled just to tempt you. you're sitting cross-legged on the floor, pretending you're not staring at the curve of her waist every time she shifts.

you're not even talking about sex—just bad exes and worse sexts. how both of you have better luck getting off by yourselves. how dating is exhausting, how hookups are awkward, how lately it just feels easier to not bother.

"i haven't come with someone in, like… over a year," you admit, voice small and blunt in the low light.

"what?" she blinks at you, lighter clicking shut with finality. "babe, that's negligence."

"takes too long." you shrug, rubbing your thumb along your calf. "and i hate pretending."

she studies you, and the upside down angle does nothing to soften her expression. "you wouldn't have to pretend with me," she points out simply.

"Jinx—"

"i'm just saying!" she rolls herself upright with a lazy twist, hair messy, eyes slitted with something sharper than weed. she crawls to the edge of the bed, sitting right behind you, peering over your shoulder like she's reading your pulse. "i'm practically your best friend, right? i'd trust you to make me come. easy."

you turn your head slightly, just enough to see her in your periphery, heartbeat tripping over itself. she doesn't smile yet—just watches you, waiting for your brain to catch up.

"that's not what i—you can't just say things like that," you manage, conflicted.

"why not?" she asks softly. her voice has changed—lower, smoother, threaded with something warm enough to curl around your ribs. she shifts off the bed, landing quietly on her knees behind you. her presence wraps around you like heat, legs bracketing your hips without quite touching. her hands come to rest lightly on your shoulders, thumbs brushing slow arcs into your skin—testing, wordlessly asking. "i'm serious," she murmurs into your ear, making your skin prickle. "you hate pretending. i hate pretending. feels like an obvious solution."

oh, the irony. the staggering, ridiculous irony—pretending is all you've ever done with her. your entire friendship is a performance; touchier than friends, cleaner than lovers, stitched together with denial and long looks you both refuse to name.

and now she says she's tired of it, like you both didn't build your whole dynamic on it. you're not sure whether to laugh or scream or call her out on it.

but the hypocrisy tastes sweet coming from her mouth.

"that's not fair…"

"hey," Jinx soothes, fingers sliding from your shoulders to your upper arms, slow enough to feel intentional but not indecent just yet. "you said it yourself. it's hard with other people. too much pressure, too much bullshit."

you simply nod, small and helpless, because you can't seem to do anything else.

"but not with me," she continues, voice dripping with something unbearably coaxing and decadent. "i know you. you wouldn't have to fake a thing." she leans in, chest to your back, her breath ghosting down the side of your neck. "i could help you… if you wanted."

a beat, then another. her hands glide down your arms again, stopping just above your elbows—gentle, deliberate, grounding.

"i can do it for you," she adds, softer this time, as if she's afraid you'll spook if she pushes too hard. "you deserve someone who actually pays attention."

you swallow—too hard, too loud—but at least the sound means your throat is still working.

"i'd pay attention. i'd make it good," she murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear lightly. "you know i would."

"fuck," you breathe out involuntarily, and she exhales like the sound of you needing her is its own high.

"mhmm," Jinx hums, smiling into your neck. "i can do it for you." her fingers skate down your sides, slow and teasing, until her hands curve around your waist, drawing you back into her in a soft-bodied claim. "we already have the toy."

the words go off inside you like a shot. your stomach flips violently, thighs pressing together before you can stop them, and she tightens her grip on you just a fraction, just enough to tell you she liked it.

"yeah," she breathes, her teeth grazing your jaw like it's taking everything in her to hold back. "it'll just be you and me, like always." her hands slide slowly up your waist, fingertips pressing into the most sensitive spots she has no business of knowing this well. "tell me you don't want that."

you can't speak. you can barely breathe, really. your whole body is trembling now, betraying you as you lean back, practically offering yourself to her.

"or…" her voice drops into a velvety kind of whisper, like she knows what comes next, "tell me to keep going."

you strip because she does; Jinx strips because she's been waiting for the excuse. the second her shirt comes off, she looks lighter, energized. her shorts drop to the floor, and she kicks them away with ridiculous enthusiasm. her body is a map you know well: the scattered freckles on her chest, the faint scars across her thighs, marks you've noticed a hundred times but somehow feel new under this lighting.

and when she drops her panties, there's the bush—slightly darker than her hair, shaved down into a cute little heart. a blue heat-center you're not supposed to care about.

you're trying to look calm, but your skin feels too tight, every breath a little too sharp. there's nothing unfamiliar about the nudity, but this is different—this is intent, stripping for each other, stripping for sex.

you set the rules almost too quickly: ass to ass, no kissing, also known as the commandments of cowards. because it can't be too intimate, obviously; it can't look like what it actually is. it's not about you after all, right? it's about… curiosity, biology, friction.

the lube is cold as Jinx warms it between her palms, but her hands are shaking with how badly she wants this—wants you, wants this boundary erased, wants the physical proof that she was always right about the two of you. you lie on your side, already soaked, rubbing gentle circles over your clit—enough to take the edge off while keeping yourself aching. she watches openly, unblinking and pupils blown, like seeing your body react is something she's wanted for months.

"if we go ass to ass," she finally says, coating both ends of the dildo with just enough lube, like she's been practicing on fantasies of you, "then it's not, like… intimate intimate."

"you mean if we don't make eye contact while we fuck each other at the same time?"

"exactly!" she beams, almost giddy. "it's practically platonic."

your laugh breaks halfway through, dissolving into a helpless sound you don't want her to hear. you eventually end up on all fours: face down, backs turned, knees digging into the mattress, toy heavy and slick in your hands.

"okay," Jinx breathes, settling behind you, crouched and buzzing with anticipation, "on the count of three."

you nod, though your head is spinning. she's excited—genuinely, stupidly excited—because to her, this is a door she's been secretly pressing her weight against for months, waiting for the slightest give.

and tonight, you've opened it for her. this moment? this setup? this is the closest she's ever been to getting what she's wanted from you.

"one."

"two."

"three—wait!" she suddenly bursts into cackles. "are we going in together or, like… alternating? i feel like we need a traffic system."

"Jinx!" you whine,spine arching involuntarily, nearly collapsing forward. "please."

"right, right. shutting up."

liar.

you feel dizzy before it even starts. your thighs tremble as you press back slowly, guiding the blunt head in, letting it nudge you open with a faint whimper. you freeze for a split second, humiliated by your own voice. it's not instant pleasure—it's too big for that, too much. "shit," you whisper, your movements shallow and tentative.

"cute when you swear."

"you're already pushing it."

"i'm pushing it, alright."

behind you, Jinx grunts softly—a sound so hungry it tells you she's already taking more than she should, already pushing herself further than you are. you can only imagine it: pink folds dwarfed by the sheer thickness of the toy, taking inch after inch like she's starving for it, hazy-eyed. you don't have to look at her to know it.

"fuuuck, you feel that?" her voice is all grit, low and wild. "i forgot how good that is."

she hasn't; she just likes saying it out loud. she likes reminding you what kind of girl she is—soaked, sensitive, cockdrunk the second something's inside her. she wants you to hear it. she wants her own filth to rub off on you, like a sick little claim.

"this is—" she laughs under her breath, delighted and disgusting all at once, "—so fucked. even for us."

you're too busy gasping into your palm to answer, trembling as you take more. every time you try to steady yourself, another ripple of sensation knocks you off balance, punching moans out of you at the worst moments. and Jinx is eating it up. she's the first to start moving properly, grinding back slow and low, making the dildo push forward, forcing it deeper into you and bridging you both. she's loving this—the stretch, the pressure, the greedy fullness. it hits something inside her brain like a switch every time. no one else knows that, but she hopes you do—she wants you to.

you whine, hand slipping between your legs to rub fast, wet circles over your throbbing clit, walls fluttering frantically as they struggle to adjust.

"you're fucking tight, huh?" Jinx rasps, breathless as she fucks herself on it with more force that necessary, grinning through it. she's always been the impatient one, always a little greedy when it comes to sensation. she rolls her hips back harder, meaner, gasping when the stretch doubles through the toy, knowing full well that every thrust slams right back into you, bullying your g-spot over and over. she wants to push you, overwhelm you, watch you fall apart faster than her; she's enjoying your struggle even more than her own pleasure. "poor baby can't take it already? god, you're adorable."

her tone is pure corruption—soft, mocking, coaxing, loving the way your breath stutters every time she speaks.

"don't… don't say that—"

"mmh," she groans, pleased and vicious all at once. "knew it. knew you'd be like this."

"like what?" you manage, though your voice is shaking.

"like everything i imagined," she whispers. "sweet, overwhelmed. trying so hard to keep up."

you let out another broken sound, strangled and humiliating, and she shudders behind you—a full-body reaction she doesn't bother hiding.

"yeah," she pants, and you can hear the smile in her voice. "give me that. let me hear you."

you don't even notice how frantic your movements have become until the bed starts creaking with the motion, but you both keep grinding, fucked full on either end of the same dripping thing. your knees spread wider, backs bowing further and further as you keep chasing the spot that'll make your vision swim. the toy finally gives and bottoms out, leaving no room to pretend. it disappears between you and forces your pussies to press close, flushed lips parting against each other from the pressure.

Jinx registers it first and lets out a filthy little giggle, bottom lip happily caught between her teeth. "clits are kissing," she points out. "that's so fucking cute."

you choke on a moan, entire body tensing as you try to pull forward, but the dildo is buried—locking you in place, folds mashed against hers, wet and swollen. "Jinx! just… shut the fuck up—"

"don't move!" she pants, voice high, panic and exhilaration tangled together. "don't you fucking dare—this is perfect."

"Jinx, please… fuck!”

"you feel that, right? feel how wet we are?" she rocks her hips in deliberate circles as if to emphasize her point. your juices mix, sticky and hot between your swollen folds, clits making out together with each thrust. "that's your slick on my clit. you're soaking me."

you're gone—grinding, whining, barely keeping yourself upright as your nails dig into the colorful sheets beneath you. "it's too much… s'too deep, i can't—"

"nuh-uh. you'll take it," she snaps, hips slamming back. "you'll learn to take it. right here, with me."

you try to keep the rhythm, but Jinx has no sense of moderation, no concept of pacing. you're both moving, sure, but she's the one dragging you into her tempo, like you're an accessory to her pleasure. she's bouncing a little now—short, fast thrusts that make the toy slap wetly between you, obscene in the otherwise quiet apartment. of course she's not even trying to hold back; she's not built for restraint. not when she can feel the toy tug and push with every needy grind of her hips.

it's making you lose composure faster than you want to; you need something to cling to while she's ruining you from behind so easily without even looking. you're overwhelmed, dizzy and trembling, but something about that intensity feels right, like she's pressing buttons you didn't know you had. you reach back blindly, hand fumbling for purchase until it finds her thigh, fingers digging into the soft and creamy flesh to ground yourself. her whole body jumps at the contact, driving the dildo deeper. her brain is pure static by now, near delirious, but she lives for this—you being full, stretched, used, needing her. your sounds build: moans layered, breaths stuttering, skin slapping, slick squelching.

"you sound so fucked out," she giggles, eyes wide and unfocused. "i haven't even touched you." but then she grabs for you, too—one hand gripping the soft meat of your ass, anchoring herself and driving harder. "mmph—harder! c'mon, sweet girl."

you obey before you can think, hand clawing into her hip now, yanking her back. the sound she makes when she feels you commit nearly undoes you. her eyes roll back, and your name starts falling from her lips like a mantra—over and over between high-pitched moans and sobs of pleasure. she tries to touch herself, tries to stay ahead of the sensation, and you can hear how sloppy it is. she's chasing the kind of friction that only makes things overstimulating; she twitches away from her own touch, then forces herself right back into the feeling like she refuses to slow down.

"there you go. good fucking girl," she breathes proudly, voice breaking on a whimper. "you're not—mmph—used to this, huh? bet you're loving it anyway."

she's losing to her own greed, and you're losing to the desperate need to keep up with her, to not disappoint her. you want to be the one who can keep up with the girl who never holds back.

"fuckfuckfuck—i'm right there, m'gonna come—don't stop—"

you beat her to it when your body arches, mouth opening in a silent scream, thighs clenching as your orgasm rips through you—hot and humiliating, gushing around the toy as your pussy sucks it in with each spasm. Jinx groans behind you, hips jerking back with a final slap, pressing your asses flush. she arches and clings to the headboard, face crumpled, borderline sobbing through the unforgiving release as her cunt clenches hard around the other end.

and then you hear it—a heavy, squirting sound as more wetness pools between your locked bodies, soaking the back of your thighs and darkening the sheets beneath you. "oh—fuck—oh my god—" she chokes out, half-laughing, half-crying, the sound coming out wrecked and startled, drunk on her orgasm. "i—gah—i didn't—holy shit!"

you let out a prolonged moan, grinding faintly through the aftershocks as relief floods your body like never before. your releases coat the toy, sticking between your folds in a shared mess—there's no way to tell whose slick is whose anymore. but while you're already done, already whimpering, shaking and breathless, Jinx keeps moving.

"Jinx, wait! shit—" you gasp, but the words barely come out, dissolving into a violent twitch. "m'too sensitive—"

"just a little more… please, don't pull away yet," she whines, only half-apologetic as she tightens her grip and holds you in place.

relentless. greedy. selfish.

because if she still can, she will.

her hips roll back into yours, sticky cunt smearing against yours, toy still buried so deep it squelches when she moves. you feel her clit throbbing right against yours, making you mewl faintly into the pillow, helpless.

"be good," she whimpers, almost pleadingly. "i don't even wanna come—just wanna—"

you try to bear it, to stay with her through the last of it, but your body betrays you, fucked open and raw—you're flinching, toes curled, pussy fluttering around the toy in overstimulated panic. it's the sound of your wet, ruined sob that finally cracks something open in Jinx.

she lets go, hand going slack and falling from your hip, chest heaving. you slump forward at the loss of your anchor, only dragging the toy along your sensitive walls, face buried in the sheets. she peers over her shoulder, dazed and blinking, suddenly aware of how tightly she held on, how hard she came, how much she took.

she pulls the dildo out of you first, movements gentle and careful as to not stimulate you further, before slipping it out of herself with a wet pop and tossing it aside.

"shit, i'm sorry. i didn't—i got carried away. are you—” her voice cracks, the apology tangling itself into something almost scared. "are you okay?"

you can't answer immediately; your lungs don't work yet. your entire body is shuddering as the overstimulation riots under your skin. everything feels too hot, too bright, too intense… but not bad. not wrong.

she inches closer, but not enough to crowd you—just enough that you can feel her warmth at your back, uncertain, guilty, waiting for the verdict like she expects you to flinch.

“sweetheart,” she tries again, barely audible, “talk to me. please.”

it takes a full, shaking breath before you can form any sound at all. then another breath before the sound turns into a laugh—soft, cracked, delirious. you lift your head and let out a stunned, breathless giggle that makes your shoulders shake. “Jinx,” you manage, voice wrecked beyond dignity, “holy shit.”

she blinks, startled. “that's not an answer.”

you laugh again—a messy, fucked out little sound—and flop onto your side, facing away so she doesn’t see the stupid smile stretching your lips. “i’m okay,” you pant, still trembling. “i’m… jesus. i'm okay. that was just—” you swallow, cheeks burning, “—a lot.”

Jinx exhales like she’s been underwater. for the first time since the high swallowed her, she lets her hand rest on your bare back—light, cautious, trembling with the leftover adrenaline. "you fucking scared me. i thought i overdid it."

you shake your head, still giggling weakly. "i'm just fried. need a second."

she lets out a shaky breath that sounds like relief and something more awestruck. “you sure?” she asks, softer.

you finally look back at her, eyes heavy, lips parted, expression stupidly dazed. “Jinx,” you whisper, “that was insane.”

her whole posture melts. the guilt, the panic, the tension? it all drains at once, replaced by a grin that’s half proud, half disbelieving, all Jinx. “yeah?” she murmurs, settling beside you like she’s afraid to jostle you. “yeah… it kinda was.”

she moves closer, cunt still throbbing faintly from her orgasm, lips wet and shiny from drooling just the tiniest bit in the heat of it all. she tucks her face into your neck, nose against the soft warmth of your skin, breathing you in like you're the only real thing left in the world. she's soft, completely undone in a way she usually doesn't let anyone see. your fingers trail up her spine, gentle, stroking like you're afraid she might disappear if you press too hard, heart still stuttering against your ribs.

you both know where you are—the after. the part where the rules get reassembled as if they still matter. the part where you should laugh it off and pretend it didn't mean anything.

but Jinx isn't moving. she's not making a joke. she's not hiding. she stays curled into you, hovering close, mouth brushing the line of your jaw. and when you turn your head just enough to meet her eyes, you can see the ruined look in her face—burning but tender, like she's seeing you for the first time and it's too much to handle.

her voice comes out hoarse, a whisper against your mouth when she speaks again.

"i"m gonna break the rule."

theres barely time to breathe before she does.

she kisses you like she's been waiting forever, slow and deep, lips parting with the softest sigh as her tongue slides in, tentative but smooth. you open for her instantly, hand sliding to her cheek, pulling her closer, bodies already pressed together but suddenly not close enough. you kiss like cats drink milk—long, slow licks, tongues brushing in the softest glide, breaths catching with every shifts. she whimpers into it, hips grinding just once against your thigh like she can't help herself. you moan back, licking softly into her mouth, like tasting her there is simply a continuation of everything you had already done.

and maybe this is kind of intimate.

but not like that, right?

— divider by @/cursed-carmine !!

how it feels to write smut sometimes. i physically cannot drop them in the middle of it with no context or buildup. next thing i’m posting will be bite-sized i am TIRED.

— says girl who is doing this to herself for the love of the game

[adieutristana]

trigger happy; jinx x fem!reader

❥・summary; it's no secret that jinx is greedy- always wanting more, more, more. tonight, you’re raising the stakes.

❥・tags/warnings; sub!jinx, dom!reader, kindaaaa brat!jinx but not really, fingering, gunplay, THIS ONE IS FREAKY, sizequeen!jinx, slight degradation, dacryphilia, squirting, aftercare.

❥・wc; 3.0k

wanted to take the jinx fucking reader with gun line and flip it on its head… hope u enjoy xo

your fingertips trail down the pale expanse of jinx’s neck, to her collarbone and the valley between her tits. your other hand brushes her inner thigh, causing the girl to shudder. just as quickly as it was there, you pull your hand away.

jinx has always been a needy little thing. she might have self-control (rarely), but her pussy doesn’t. wet at the most inconvenient times, and you can’t help taking pity on her.

even if you’re in the middle of trying to write your resume, while jinx is well aware of how hard you’ve been looking for work.

she didn’t mean to interrupt you, she swears. she just couldn’t function if she had to go another minute without your touch. the damp patch between her panties said enough, the way her breath picked up as you adjusted your hair, how you bit your lip while trying to figure out the right words to type.. it was slow torture to jinx.

you didn’t need to hear her explanations; it’s the same thing every time. wordlessly, you led her back to the cot, only giving her an eye roll and frown. she winced externally, like she wasn’t celebrating internally.

jinx feels bad on the one hand. on the other, it’s not her fault you’re so addicting. it’s also not her fault that she can’t get herself off anymore- her body will only respond to you.

your lips press against her jawline as she bares her neck to you. in nothing but a tank and a pair of striped black-and-white panties, she’s a vision: flushed and wanton beneath you, blue braids hanging over the edge of the bed.

“impatient today, hm?”

“when am i ever patient?” she huffs, and you give a dry chuckle. never, is the answer.

you tease at the hemline of her top as jinx’s thighs rub together in a desperate attempt for friction, and you lightly smack one of them while shaking your head. “uh-uh. you’re gonna wait.”

jinx lets out a low, petulant whine, but doesn’t say anything as you inch her top up over her pretty, perky tits. pierced nipples already hard, a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. you cup one of her breasts, running your thumb lightly over her, and she shivers, mouth falling open. you’ve always found it adorable how sensitive her tits are, how she could probably come apart just from you playing with them. maybe you’ll have to put that to the test one day.

“mm, feels good-” she breathes out, arching into your touch. your other hand comes up to knead at her other tit, not wanting to neglect her, and her mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

“yeah? you like that, pretty girl?”

jinx whimpers at the nickname and nods, letting out an actual moan as your fingernails graze one of her nipples. she cries out, one of her hands flying up to the back of your head and pushing you down toward her chest. you don’t say anything, just obey, taking one of her tits into your mouth and flattening your tongue over the bud. 

“ungh, fuck, that’s-” your lips form a seal over her and you begin to suck, and jinx thinks she might see stars. “aah! keep doin’ that, don’t stop-”

you don’t, not for a second. while your mouth is busy, you pinch and twist at her other nipple, cruel in the way that makes the girl weak. you switch between sucking and licking, dragging the hot muscle around her in long, languid strokes and feeling her tremble. gently, one of your knees nudges between her thighs and presses against her clothed heat.

janna above. she’s fucking drenched.

you start to slowly grind your knee against her, and jinx meets you halfway. she rolls her hips forward, grinding on your leg like a dumb mutt. broken moans escape her in a high crescendo. as you she holds you buried against her tit, the contrast of warm flesh and cold metal is exhilarating, addicting. every part of her is.

you finally let go of her breast with a wet ‘pop’ and start tracing down powder-blue tattoos on her side, fingers gliding over where her hips jut out and to the elastic of her panties. you yank it once to tease her and she squeals at the sting. her poor cunt pulses against nothing, screaming for attention.

jinx tugs you up for a kiss, a mess of teeth and tongue clashing into each other. she licks into your mouth like a woman starved, bites at your bottom lip hard enough to draw a sharp gasp from you. her hands fly wherever they can reach. first your shoulders, then digging into your waist, then sliding under the waist of your sweatpants and palming at your ass. she swallows up your ragged breaths and groans, sending heat straight to your core.

she kisses you again and again, and you kiss her back every time- spit collecting between the two of you, dribbling down your chin as her tongue swirls with yours and you feel her grow wetter against your thigh. there’s a wet patch forming on your pants, painting it a darker grey than the rest of the fabric. jinx pulls back, breath labored and face flushed.

“please,” she whines. “don’t be mean. i’ve been wantin’ you all day..”

“all day, huh? but you had to wait until i was doing something?”

she nods with a little frown, looking up at you so sweetly you could almost believe she didn’t know what she was doing. unfortunately for her, you know better. you know jinx’s antics and her body like the back of her hand. 

there is some truth to her words, though: she’s waited long enough. you retract your knee from between jinx’s thighs only to peel her panties off, sticky strings of arousal clinging to the cotton. she instinctively parts her legs wide and you run your fingers through her slit, collecting slick as you spread her open.

the sight is downright pornographic. pink, puffy and soft, like a flood between her thighs. her clit’s pulsing, throbbing, and she near sobs when your middle finger lands on it. you start to work her over in tight little circles, quick and measured. not giving her a moment to rest. she said she didn’t want to wait any longer? you’ll give her everything.

you switch to your thumb to keep rubbing at the little bud as you sink two fingers into her, and her head falls back.

your fingers go in almost too easily. she’s drenched, but her walls are squeezing you, pulling you further in like her pussy’s doing the work for her. you mouth at her neck, licking the pale skin and suckling every now and again. hickeys bloom as you start pumping your fingers, in and out, already quick and ruthless. her head tosses back with a ragged moan, bouncing off the walls.

“there it is,” you whisper, lips brushing her earlobe. “let me hear you, jinx.”

your fingers crook inside of her just right, hitting that spongy spot that makes her see stars, and she near screams. the girl is thrashing underneath you, like she’s running from the feeling and can’t get enough at the same time. her hips roll into your hand, your thumb working over her aching clit at break-neck speed.

“aaah! baby, fuck- more-”

“more? i’m already giving you plenty-”

“just- ah!” she cries out as your teeth nip at her earlobe, your fingers scissor inside of her, voice rough and ragged. “fuck me, sweets, please..”

you almost laugh. you’re already fucking her, aren’t you? but you know what she wants. jinx’s appetite for you is never sated, and two fingers aren’t always enough. sometimes, not even three are enough. she’s happiest when her cunt is stuffed full and she’s stimulated until she can barely speak, let alone think.

“gods, you’re insatiable,” you huff, rolling your ears. you tut down at her as you slowly slide your fingers out of her. she whines at the sudden emptiness as you bring your fingers to your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits and collecting her slick. sweet as she always is. “what more could you want, huh? you want the strap, you want me to eat you out? gods, you’re slutty.”

jinx doesn’t even deny it, just whimpers and nods frantically like it’s instinct. you step away for just a second to rummage through her dresser, looking through the various toys she’s made- dildos of every shape and size, though they’re all on the larger side. for such a petite girl, they look monstrous next to her. 

whenever you suggest something smaller for more easygoing nights, jinx shakes her head with a petulant pout on her lips. says it’s no fun if you play it safe.

your girlfriend is squirming on the bed, impatient little thing- you furrow your brows at the selection of toys.

your eyes trail upwards, though, and land on her pistol.

and it’s like sparks fly. something clicks.

it’s fucking filthy, but you suspect that’ll be the best part for your girlfriend. you pick up the gun, twirling it in your hand as you approach her. crawling between her legs, you start to drag the cold steel along her inner thighs. when jinx looks down, her eyes blow as wide as platters, and she gasps.

“baby- ah, i dunno if i can take that..”

you chuckle lowly, trailing it closer to her weeping cunt. leaking arousal onto the sheets beneath her, chest heaving with her labored breaths. you tap it once against her clit, and her body jerks.

“wanna find out?” you croon. you don’t think you’ve heard jinx say ‘yes’ so many times in a row. you let out a low laugh as the steel descends further between her thighs, down towards her dripping hole, desperate to be filled. the nozzle pushes into her, feeding her millimeter by millimeter- and just that burns.

wide, thick, cold. she’s so tiny, you almost think you might break her. her poor hole is desperately trying to account for the intrusion, struggling around the girth. she’s used to taking your cock. thick silicone that seems to be all around her, feeling you all over- this, though, is uncharted territory. it’s fucking terrifying, and in some sick way, that only intensifies the ache between jinx’s thighs.

her walls flutter around her gun as she struggles to keep up, cunt making a desperate attempt to accommodate. still, she’s trying to push herself down, trying to fuck herself, always impatient. like her pussy’s doing the thinking for her. you lean over her, pressing open-mouthed kisses over her collarbones to ease her.

deceptively sweet. your tongue darts out every few kisses, you nip at the skin, all while her body twists underneath you. filthy moans fall from her lips as you push in further, her cunt beginning to give to the barrel. she lets out a girlish squeal once it’s halfway in, and you giggle.

“i knew you were dirty, but this is just filthy,” you breathe out, voice rumbling against her skin. your teeth graze her collarbones and her hands fly to your back, nails digging in and undoubtedly leaving marks.

you haven’t even finished pushing it in. you keep going, pacing her in a way that’ll drive the girl wild but won’t hurt her. you pay careful attention to her expression for any hint of a wince or grimace, but all you see is pleasure.

finally, you bottom out, holding onto the handle with the trigger nestled right against her clit. 

then you start to move it.

jinx wails.

“oh- oh, fuck- it’s so big, too much- aah!” she can feel every ridge of the gun against her walls, sending her head spinning. “too much! mmph-”

“aw, can’t take it, baby?” you coo, voice dripping with mock-sympathy. you keep thrusting, eyes flicking between her fucked-out expression and her cunt stretched wide around her pistol. “but you were begging for it just a minute ago..”

jinx can’t muster up a response. not when the trigger nudges that little bundle of nerves every time you push the gun back into her, not when your teeth are sinking into her shoulder. her mind feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, white-hot pleasure coating her every thought and word until she can’t conjure any more. 

once her head tosses back and her moans grow near ear-piercing, you pick up the pace. you pump the gun into her like your life depends on it, her manicured nails digging into your skin so hard you hiss through your teeth. you can hear it, the wet schlickschlick of her dripping cunt with every deep thrust.

“taking it so well, like a good whore..”

jinx whines. her head tosses back and forth, kiss-swollen lips parted and bangs sticking to a thin layer of sweat on her forehead. she looks like something straight out of a dirty magazine, covered in hickeys and bite marks, utterly debauched.

you wonder what she would do if she could see herself right now. you wonder if the girl can even hear herself, or if she’s too far-gone.

she’s acting on pure instinct, clawing at you like an anchor on the shoreline.

“don’t stop, don’t fucking stop-”

you wouldn’t dream of stopping. her pierced tits bounce with every thrust, her body utterly consumed by the maelstrom of sensations. you capture her lips in a fiery kiss, and she tries to meet you halfway- but your girlfriend only manages to loosely clash her tongue with yours and whine into your mouth.

you glance between her thighs to see a ring of milky-white arousal forming around the base of her gun, defiling the weapon. signing her name on it in the filthiest ink, and your lips tug into a lopsided smirk.

you can tell by the resistance, like her pussy is pulling you further in that she’s close- with her choked moans, like they’re ripped from the depths of her chest. she’s desperately clinging to that feeling, wanting nothing more than to tip over the edge. you speed up until you think your wrist might break- which you don’t think you’d mind right now- and jinx feels tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

“pull the trigger,” she grunts out.

your motions slow. unsure if you heard her right. surely.. “huh?”

“it’s not loaded,” she whines, clearly unhappy with the loss of stimulation. “just- ugh, pull the trigger! fuck!”

you let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a scoff as your finger braces the trigger. “fucking hell, jinx.”

you obey. the second you pull the trigger and it clicks against her clit, jinx shatters.

shimmery-pink liquid squirts over the gun, soaking your hand and forearm, the sheets beneath her. hot tears drip down her cheeks- you kiss every one from her eyes, purring against her skin. 

“yeah, that’s it. make a goddamn mess, baby.”

jinx screams your name more times than you can count as you keep fucking her through it, letting the barrel slowly ease out of her as she comes down from her high. she’s sobbing, completely wrecked. she sniffles and whines as she starts to regain her bearings, and you don’t push her. not for a second.

you observe her reactions and body until you think she’s alright, back to hserself. finally, you set the gun aside, and stifle a laugh at the displeased noise jinx lets out.

your kisses over her face grow softer. you kiss over the last of her tears, then the bridge of her nose, her cheeks, and land a soft kiss on her lips. much gentler than you were just a few minutes ago.

“you okay?” you whisper, and jinx nods. gives a soft ‘mhm.’

the corners of your lips tug upward in a soft smile. “words, babe.”

“‘m good,” she responds, voice distant and gravely. “more than good. that.. wow.”

you give a small giggle as you swing your legs over the side of the bed to grab a water bottle and washcloth, then wet it in jinx’s sink. she follows you with her eyes, frowning like you not being there is a personal affront to her. it tugs at your heartstrings, but you’ll be there soon. you know that she needs this- the gentle care after the rough night. you crawl back onto the bed and kneel between her thighs, tenderly wiping slick from her inner thighs with warm water. she lets out a sigh at the feeling.

“think you might’ve screamed yourself hoarse.” you coax her to slowly sit up against the wall, which she manages after a minute of careful patience. “take this.”

she takes the water bottle from you and takes a long swig, then wipes her mouth with the back of her arm. “thanks.”

“of course,” you keep wiping off her inner thighs, then brush your lips against the skin marked by your bites and suckling. almost like a silent apology, even though you’re ecstatic to see her wear physical proof of this. “you did so good, you know that? you were perfect.”

a smile spreads across jinx’s lips, slow and sleepy. you toss the washcloth aside once you’re finished, then ease your girlfriend down onto the pillows. she’s not fragile, far from it. can you be blamed for wanting to take care of her like she is, though?

“come here,” you whisper, settling in beside her and opening your arms. jinx immediately scoots over to lay in them, pressing soft kisses to your neck and jawline. 

“mm,” she hums. “think you might’ve wrecked me for good.”

you chuckle. “for good? oh no..”

she laughs with you as she leans up to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “i loved it. love you, toots.”

“love you more,” you sigh, and jinx snorts. you both know neither of you will win that argument, the ever-long debate of who loves who more. she just lightly smacks your shoulder before resting her head in the crook of your neck, pulling the blankets up around both of your shoulders.

[crawlinglilcritter]

i’m still drawing just… slow. and my writing has taken a HIT i’m so sorry y’all. the intention to finish the fics is definitely still present, and i have so many void in blue thoughts. it’s just hard to get them onto the page.

[wildfloripondio]

˗ˋˏI’ll Take The Rose With All The Thornsˎˊ-

Where Jinx riles up Ekko by poking at his jealous streak and filthy, semi-public smut ensues. Set in the Project Universe of League of Legends.

Part 2 of Consume: https://www.tumblr.com/wildfloripondio/798897857379844096/%F0%93%82%83-%CB%8B%CB%8Fconsume%CB%8E%CB%8A-%F0%93%82%83

Post by @wildfloripondio

💬 1  🔁 2  ❤️ 18 · 🪻⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ ˗ˋˏConsumeˎˊ-𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🪻 · ╭──────────.★..─╮ Kinktober Day 30: Sex Pollen Word Count: ╰─..★.──────────

Tags: Timebomb, Jinx x Ekko, F/M, Enemies With Benefits, Light Angst, Jealousy, Cuckholding, Bratty Jinx, Brat-Taming, Light Predator/Prey, Making-Out, Grinding, Blow Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Cervix-Hitting, Light Size-Kink, Praise/Degradation, Name-Calling, Cum-Play / Facial, Creampie, Breeding Kink

As aforementioned, this is a sequel to the linked fic. If you don't want to read, all you need to know is that this is set around the League Project universe (essentially Cyberpunk), that Ekko and Jinx are working in opposite camps (therefore enemies), and that they had sex under the influence of some strange flowers Jinx was experimenting with

ao3 link below!

⫶ ⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈·✦

The next few days blurred for him. Between his work for G/NTIC and the withdrawal he felt after parting from Jinx and her stupid flowers, Ekko barely had time to process what had happened. But tonight, sweating and whimpering in his bed like a kicked puppy, he can hardly think about anything else.

His fall-out with Jinx had always hurt, but now being away from her feels physical—every part of him aches for her touch, for the press of her skin against his. The only name on his tongue and on his mind is hers; Jinx, Jinx, Jinx, Jinx—Fuck, stop.

He'd known she was dangerous, but this is unlike anything he'd ever imagined she would inflict on him…and this time, she hadn't actually tried to hurt him. He can't get the sounds of her moans out of his head, or the sight of her coming apart under his hand, mouth, and cock over and over again for hours on end.

He wonders if she's thrown her strange potion away after what happened, if she regrets having slept with him, or if she's pulled others into her web just like she had with him; only this time, on purpose. But he shakes his head, refusing the idea. No, it doesn't make sense, even she wouldn't do that. She hadn't seemed to understand what was happening either last time anyway.

His wrist is sore from stroking for her so often and so long, yet no amount of orgasms seems to banish the lewd thoughts that plague him. He wants her again, more than anything, but he knows they shouldn't. She'd hurt too many, and although things between them had ended so strangely soft, Ekko tells himself the flowers are to blame. He had to leave her. He can hardly process the guilt he feels over it now…nor the regret and desire that linger.

Enough is enough, he tells himself as he shoves his hand out of his boxers and sits up. He has to do something, to keep his mind occupied with anything but her and the way she clenches around him the second he puts the tip in. The scratches she's left on his back still burn, and he surmises her own bruises and marks must ache still—yes, that's enough.

He curses under his breath and drags himself out of bed, determined to find something to do, which, in the middle of the night, means he'll have to hit the pleasure district and get drunk until his nausea takes over his desire for his enemy.

After he's taken a cold shower and scrubbed his skin raw to try and exorcise the ghost of her skin on his, Ekko throws on a taupe oversized hoodie, some black cargo pants, and a large black bomber jacket that reaches to his mid-thigh. Then he sets out into the night, unstraps his hoverboard, and speeds towards the nearest bar in hopes of getting a couple hours of respite from the ache he feels in her absence.

And for a while, it works. Ekko gets tipsy, chats up anyone he finds interesting or pretty, and ignores the nagging voice in his head comparing them all to her. But then his body tenses, realizing something before he does, and her scent floods his senses all over again.

Jinx.

Jinx is walking right towards him. And she's devastatingly beautiful tonight.

She's got on a black bodysuit exposing her pale legs and cut-out at the stomach and her waist, leaving only tattered strips holding the top and the bottom of the garment together. So much of her is exposed that he struggles to breathe, rendering the purple shoulder sleeves she's got on comical. They contrast with her bionic arms, and complement the thin, neon-purple lines snaking from her chest to her hips—he knows they fade a few centimeters down her inner-thighs, he remembers tracing them with his tongue as they pulsed.

Her short, pink hair is divided in four sections by gem cuffs and tied into two spiky buns. Two thin braids frame her face in place of her usual bang, swaying gently as she stalks towards him. The click of her platform thigh-high boots sears itself in his soul.

He's astronomically fucked.

Ekko turns his back to her, wrapping his lips around the straw of his cocktail and pretending not to notice as she slides onto the stool beside him like it's her rightful place—in another life, maybe it is. But this is not the one, Ekko reminds himself.

"Ya know it's pretty rude to fuck and ditch like you did," she drawls, leaning into his space without a care. "Thought the boy savior was supposed to be better than me?"

Ekko glares at her, popping the straw out of his lips. "Why are you here?"

She scoffs. "Didn't know you were in charge of public seating now."

"Look, Jinx. I'm gonna be real honest with you here," he turns his head towards her, forces a stern look that makes her smile drop just enough to make his heart clench. "I'm sorry I couldn't control myself and that we—did what we did. But I—I don't want it to mean anything. This can never happen again."

Something in her expression flickers; hurt, maybe. But it's gone just as quickly, replaced by a sharp, sly expression he knows too well.

“Wow,” she murmurs, slow and purposeful. “That’s cold, even for you.”

“I’m trying to do the right thing,” he sighs, turning the straw in his drink.

“Right dictated by who?”

“Jinx, it's the best for both of us.”

She studies him for a long second, then hums thoughtfully. “Funny. I thought you didn't care about me?”

Ekko shrugs. "I don't. I'm just being responsible."

Silence befalls them, and he wonders if he's doing the right thing when Jinx’s gaze drifts past him, landing on a man a few stools down—older, well-built, already watching her like he's seen an opening. Her expression changes then, and Ekko feels a sour taste bloom in his mouth.

"Well then," she lilts, slipping off the stool. "I guess we've got nothing more to say to each other."

And then Ekko just watches her go sit beside the stranger, striking up conversation and touching his arm, laughing louder than necessary at whatever that guy is saying. Ekko orders another drink, but he can hardly stomach the olives he'd ordered with it. He sits there and continues to watch, to shrug off anyone trying to talk to him.

Ekko feels sick when Jinx lets the stranger fix her lipstick, then lets him steal a kiss that should be his. Something ugly and primal twists in Ekko's chest, his grip on his cup tightening just enough to hurt. When Jinx parts from the kiss, her eyes meet his, and Ekko forces himself to look away; telling himself he doesn't care what she does and who she does it with.

Flowers.

Stupid fucking flowers.

Ekko should burn every last one of them. In fact, he's actively considering it the more time passes. And when the ache grows too big to ignore, he slips off his stool and sets out to find and destroy them all—until he realizes Jinx and the stranger are gone, only a blur of pink disappearing behind a shutting door.

His blood burns, and before he knows it, he's charging towards the restroom they slipped into, ignoring huffs and threats from the people he's roughly shoving as he tries to reach it fast. When he does, his hand instantly tries the handle, but the door doesn't budge.

Locked.

She fucking locked him out so she could—

"Fuck!" He growls and punches the door, earning some inquisitive looks that do not linger too long—best to mind your business, down in Zaun.

His forehead presses against the door, his breath ragged and his heart pounding.

He knows he should walk away, should refuse to entertain his feelings or Jinx's obvious ploy to play with them. But he can't help but picture it all—how that man presses too close, his hands wandering a body that shouldn't belong to him, and her letting him, encouraging him, maybe even showing him what she likes.

His jaw clenches, and Ekko steps back.

But then a shadow shifts beneath the door; two sets of feet angled toward each other and moving towards the damn door before a thud that rattles it tells him the man has Jinx pinned right against it.

How long would it take him to take the door apart from its hinges?

Ekko feels nauseous when he hears fabric shuffling, Jinx's breath hitching before she giggles like she's enjoying this more than she had thought she would.

"Fuck, yes, right there!" She moans as the man no doubt works her open on his fingers so he can take her. "Mmh…Knew those fingers would feel good when I saw your big—fucking—hands," she pants out, the door rattling as she rocks into the stranger's touch.

"Yeah? Then you're gonna love what's coming next," He chuckles and seems to pick up the pace, if the gushing Ekko hears through the door is any indication. "Gods, you're soaked, sweetheart. Someone needed dick real bad, uh?"

All the hair stand on the back of Ekko's neck, his nostrils flaring with anger when Jinx moans and agrees with the stranger like it's…easy to fuck someone else like nothing happened.

This shouldn’t matter, he tells himself.

You told her it doesn't.

But his body refuses to listen.

His mind pictures things he doesn’t want to picture; her legs trembling around the stranger's hips, her lips parted in bliss with her head thrown back, her nails scratching and her hips twitching like they had when he had her.

The image makes his stomach churn—not just because of what she’s doing, but because he knows why. Because he was a coward and pushed her right into the arms of someone else.

Because he did it to himself.

There's some more shuffling, the rip of plastic, and some movement that alerts Ekko. A muffled sound escapes from behind the door—nothing clear, but just enough for his imagination to sharpen its knives when Jinx gasps and the door roughly rattles.

"Fuck, you're tight," the stranger groans as he no doubt slipped his cock inside her…without even having taken the time to make her come on his fingers or his tongue.

It's selfish. Ekko can't understand why anyone wouldn't take their time to feel and taste her, to make her sob with pleasure before even considering getting themselves off.

When he had been under the influence of her potion, he knows he had been rough and urgent, but even then he had wanted to make it good for her, and they're enemies. So if he was only a little drunk, or completely sober, Ekko wouldn't have dreamed of fucking her like…that. Not unless he was sure she'd like it too.

Is she actually into this?

The sounds coming from the restroom tell him she's enjoying herself somehow, and that provides him no relief.

"Harder! Fuck me harder!" She demands, and the door starts rattling from its hinges. "Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes! Fucking wreck me!" She chants, and the stranger growls, pistolling his hips with fervor.

"So fucking greedy," he grunts, and Jinx whimpers. "I bet you'd like it if I choked you too," he says, and by the gasp Jinx lets out, does exactly what he's alluded to a second later.

Ekko's hands are shaking now, fingers curling into fists at his sides. He hates this—hates the jealousy, the anger, and the sharp, undeniable truth clawing its way up his throat as he can't seem to tear himself away and stop listening to her unraveling on someone else's cock.

He hears her splutter, the sound of skin slapping and light taps letting him know this stranger is roughing her up like he thinks he has the right…and she's moaning, gasping, pleading for more.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she hisses, and Ekko wonders what prompted the reaction, images burning and bursting to flames in his mind. "Suck them," she commands. "Fucking suck them—Yes!" She screams and her head hits the door hard.

Ekko simmers with anger, warmth spreading beneath his fingertips as his nails finally break the skin of his palms.

He can't believe someone else is touching her, fucking her, and making her feel this good—much less that it's his fault he's not in the stranger's place right now.

"I'm close!" The man grunts, punching the door beside Jinx's head as their pace reaches an intensity that makes Ekko…hard, he realizes. "C'mon sweet girl, work with me—"

"F-Fuck…So much," she breathes, and Ekko's gut twists.

"Don’t complain now," the stranger darkly chuckles, his pace not relenting in any way. "Isn’t this exactly what you were asking me for earlier, baby?"

Ekko hears Jinx babble something, her moans —nearly too loud to feel authentic— making his skin burn. The fleeting thought that she might be putting on a show to make him jealous, or worse, to rile the stranger up has Ekko's jaw clenching.

The stranger curses under his breath about how good she feels, how slutty she looks for him, and what right does he have?

The moment Jinx cries out, he grunts and roughly shoves her against the door as he starts pounding away at her to finish. Ekko's heart hammers in sync with it.

"W-Wait!" Jinx rushes out, but the pounding doesn't stop, and Ekko's a little pissed about it. "Wait, I—I want you to finish—on my face," she insists, and the pounding abruptly stops.

Ekko feels sick before the sound of her feet hitting the floor comes and her shadow grows larger as she sinks to her knees before this stranger. A thud rattles the door as he supports his weight with one palm flat against it, and Ekko imagines the stranger grasping his cock right over Jinx's face, pulling the condom out, and…

"Open up, gorgeous," he breathlessly urges her, and now Ekko can see the image of Jinx's tongue poking out for someone else, begging for their cum.

His pants feel incredibly tight, the air sparse, and yet his heart hurts anyway.

There's some spluttering and gagging now, heavy panting from the stranger, and Ekko finds himself palming his bulge absentmindedly with his front pressed to the door; imagining Jinx right there beneath him, sandwiched between the easy way and the thorn in her side he himself represents.

"Fucking choke on it," the stranger grunts, "That's it. Take it, fucking take it!"

Ekko bites his tongue to blood not to say something, to rip the door out and shove the man out of his girl's throat—except she's not his girl, and he's made that abundantly clear just a few minutes ago.

"Fuck, okay," the stranger heaves, likely sliding out of her throat to stroke over her face as his climax sounds to be closer now. "Don't fucking move, let me paint you," he says and after two seconds, grunts as he comes all over Jinx's face. "Fuck…That's so hot…"

Jinx giggles, and Ekko thinks he can hear her lick and suck on her fingers for a little bit before the shadows move and he hears some shuffling that might be them cleaning up and dressing up. He thinks his torture is over until the door rattles again. This time, the shadows indicate Jinx is the one pinning the stranger there, and wet, breathy sounds tell him they're making out because she wanted more.

Ekko's artery pops at the side of his throat, his whole body trembling as he waits for the door to open so he can punch the guy or…or, he doesn't know, but do something.

"Thanks, big guy," Jinx eventually purrs, seeming to lay off the stranger. "T'was fun," she says, and shoves him out of the way before she opens the door and—"Oh, there you are," she lilts when she sees Ekko. "What a little perv, you were listening this whole time?"

"Don't play coy with me, Jinx," Ekko grits out, knowing damn well she knew and wanted him to hear with how loud she had been there. "Was that fun for you?"

She cocks her head like she doesn't know what he's talking about. "What?"

"Great, you really showed me, uh?" He scoffs, glaring at the guy coming out the restroom when he dares to chance a glance at Jinx. "What was it you said earlier? Oh, right. That was cold; even for you."

Jinx's eye twitches, her body so tense he's surprised she doesn't snap at him or shove him.

He would prefer that, actually. He would take any outburst rather than to see her roll her eyes and push past him as she makes her way out of the bar like he's killed her fun.

Ekko tells himself this is it. This will finally let him get over her, and she's right not to respond; he has no right to care. But watching as she disappears through the crowd, then out the door into the cold, dark night, he can't shake the feeling that he's supposed to move…that maybe, she wants him to follow.

Isn't that how they've always played?

  ︻デ═一⌯⁍ᯓᢉ𐭩

The chill that wraps around her as she walks under flickering lamps and buzzing neon makes her excitement all the rawer. She knows he's following her, and without even realizing it, he's playing right into her hand by following her through the maze of run-down alleys of Zaun she knows like the back of her hand.

But more than anything, his anger thrills her—it courses just beneath her skin, making her feel warm in spite of the cold as the anticipation makes her heart pound in her chest.

She rounds a corner, her breath quick as she feels his presence inching closer, and turns another to engulf herself in a dead-end; just to see what he might do, nothing else.

Geez…she really hadn't thought this through, uh?

She braces herself, taking a deep, shuddering breath, and turns around to meet his gaze. Ekko does not hurry, but the sly smirk on his face illuminated by the low lamplights makes her stomach turn.

Her breathing quickens a little, billowing into foggy wisps before her face and into the cold night air. For once, Jinx is actually nervous—not exactly scared, because she knows he has no intention to hurt her considering the amount of opportunities he had to do so tonight, but definitely intrigued, and a little out of her depth it turns out.

The way he looks at her makes her feel like prey, like he hungers to pounce and consume her whole. His eyes rake up her form, tracing each sliver of her skin that's exposed to the chill, and when their eyes meet, Ekko unabashedly licks his lips.

Jinx backs up on instinct, damp, cool bricks meeting her shoulders as she watches Ekko swallow their distance with each confident step.

She glances to the side and up, considering leaping up to the railing of a balcony for a second so she can get a sense of control, extending their little game until she figures out what it is she wants. But then Ekko's breath is on her.

"You're usually smarter than this, sweetheart," he whispers into her ear, so hoarse and dark it makes her cunt flutter.

She grunts, lurching forward to try and push him off so she can run away and get the upper-hand again. She wanted him to struggle, maybe to hesitate, but he's way too bold and it thrills her…but it'd be even better if she could push him some more and knock his ego down a little.

Ekko's body cages her in just right though, like he knew exactly what she was about to do, and he chuckles. Jinx huffs, struggling into his hold, before Ekko sighs and rolls his eyes, drawing a hand to her throat to pin and choke her just enough to stun her.

Jinx's breath hitches and her eyes go wide as she meets his darkened ones. She'd wanted him to get mad, to get jealous and take it out on her the way only he knows how…but she also hates losing that easily.

Ekko pouts mockingly, then squeezes her throat harder and leans in just enough so their lips brush as he asks, "And how did that work out for you?"

A whimper leaves her, and Jinx curses her stupid body for betraying her when she should be making this harder for him after he'd fucked and ditched her like she meant nothing, then rejected her, and proceeded to get pissed she showed him exactly what his rejection meant for them.

She tries to squirm, but his hold only tightens and she can't breathe, can't fucking feel anything but him. She scratches and clacks her teeth at him, but it only seems to amuse him, and she's not sure whether it pisses her off or turns her on.

"Fuck you," she spits when she realizes he won't let her go no matter what she does.

"What did you say?" He asks, voice sharp.

"I said," Jinx smiles darkly, voice low and steady as she repeats, "Fuck you and your stupid fucking pride."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," he laughs low under his breath, releasing the pressure on her neck just enough to give her hope before he crashes their lips together instead, stealing her breath just as she found it again.

Their kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue and moans. Ekko thinks he can taste something salty in her mouth, and he growls at the memory of the stranger coming over her face and tongue just moments earlier.

Jinx whimpers into his mouth at that, prompting Ekko to possessively shove his knee between her legs, and she can't resist the urge to rock against it—that guy at the bar had done nothing to sate the hunger Ekko had left when she'd woken up in bed without him by her side.

Desire is a fire even her wetness doesn't soothe right now. She knows he knows that, and she hates that he does. He doesn't deserve easy pliancy after he'd rejected her so brutally, leaving her feeling a little used, or at least deluded to have thought i had meant a little more than a mere aphrodisiac high.

So Jinx breaks the kiss, even if everything in her screams with agony when she does, and she spits right in his stupid, handsome face. Ekko is stunned for a second, his eyes going wide before they darken. Jinx has to repress a squeak, the retort she had dying on the tip of her tongue as she watches him wipe her spit off his face with the back of his hand.

Then, with no warning, he backhands her. The blow isn't so rough as it is startling enough for her head to turn, and she can feel the spit smeared across her face from the contact of his hand. Just as she's processing what happened, Ekko squeezes her cheeks and turns it back towards him, then spits right at her.

"You done being a fucking brat tonight?" He grits out, then roughly releases her face, making her head bump against the wall.

Jinx languidly blinks at him, her core throbbing and her heart pounding as she processes it. She chuckles right at him as he watches her, then brings a hand to her face to drag his spit down, down, down until it smears along the column of her throat, over her shoulder sleeves, and finally over her exposed cleavage.

"Fuck…" he mutters, dick twitching in his boxers. "Seems like someone likes to be painted, uh?" He teasingly points out before squeezing her cheeks again, and giving the side of her face a few quick taps with his other hand.

"You—You heard that?"

Ekko roughly shoves his knee against her core again, forcing her to grind that much harder, and making her whimper.

"Oh, don't play coy with me, Jinx," he whispers hotly, turning her face so he can kiss and bite her ear. "You knew damn well," he brings his hand behind her ass, cupping and pushing it forward to make the friction of his thigh against her cunt more insistent. "Fucking minx is what you are. You wanted me mad, didn't you?"

"So what if I did?" She shudders out, pushing her chest out to feel him closer, rocking against his thigh and moaning just loud enough for potential passerbys to hear them—maybe catch them, and what would he do then?

His breath hitches, and she feels his grip tighten for a moment; knows she's played with fire too long and it's only a matter of how he wished to consume her now—anything, she thinks. She'd let him do anything, only wouldn't be caught dead saying it out loud so easily.

"Well, baby," he breathes against her skin, hot and low over her pulse, "Looks like we've got a problem, then."

She lets out a strained chuckle, shivering when his fingers knead the plump of her ass and rock her against him in retaliation. Her voice comes out with an innocent, breathy lilt as she replies, "Do we?"

He groans, slapping her ass so hard she whimpers, and then he looks up at her; eyes gone dark and hazy, desire too damn evident to excuse last time through the flowers—how had she never realized this before?

He takes her jaw into his hand, mushing her cheeks together ever so slightly as he forces her to face him; their lips close enough to brush.

"You succeeded, J. Got me all mad," he shifts his knee further up, painfully rubbing against her cunt. "I think it's only fair you help me calm down, now. Fix what you did," he says and finally takes her hand, putting it over his throbbing, hard bulge.

Jinx moans right in his face when she feels his cock twitch through the fabric, her fingers digging on mere sadistic instinct and curiosity; making him groan and curse under his breath.

The weight of him makes her instinctively try to press her thighs together, resulting in his knee being pressed harder against her cunt. It makes her feel far too sensitive to deny herself any longer as she kisses him; slipping her tongue inside while her hand drags up to his waistband slips inside to touch him without any barrier.

His boxers are a little humid, an overwhelming amount of precum smeared around the tip of his dick, and the idea that he'd gotten so turned on from hearing her getting fucked makes her groan at the same time he does when she swipes a thumb over the slit.

She gives an experimental pump and his cock twitches, eliciting a chuckle from her that reverberates into his mouth and makes him kiss her harder. Ekko rocks into her hand, his own pulling and kneading and claiming each of her parts as she pleases him the way he had so cruelly denied them both earlier.

He loves how small her hand feels around him, unable to fully wrap around his girth, yet trying her best to touch and stoke each line of him like she's mapping him out—ever so curious, treating him as a science experiment. And how he understands; he's just as curious as she is about her body, what she likes, what he can pull from her with a different kind of touch in a different kind of place.

Too busy sucking on his tongue, Jinx doesn't feel his hand slipping through the lowest cut-out of her bodysuit before his hot, thick fingers press into her skin and hook around the fabric, ripping it with dizzying ease to grant him easier access to the wet, throbbing madness between her legs.

Her hips jut forward with the force he uses to tear her bodysuit open, and she whines in his mouth; eliciting a gravelly, muffled chuckle from him. He takes her tongue and sucks it as she has his, leaving her a mess as his hand slips between her slick folds.

He groans and pulls away as his fingers glide over her beating clit, pressing just a little before they slide below and inside her, punching out a soft moan from her and making her grip on his cock loosen for just a second.

"Not wearing any panties, baby?" He whispers hotly, a pleased chuckle pulled from him when she shakes her head and blushes a little. "Such a devious little slut," he breathes into her space and she shudders, cunt clamping down at the words as he curls his fingers just right along with them. "Did you want me to treat you like one?"

"You wish," she scoffs, but the blush on her cheeks and the way she rocks into his hand tells him differently.

Ekko smirks, then moves to withdraw his fingers, and Jinx's free hand immediately grasps his wrist to keep him where she wants him.

"Don't you fucking dare," she hisses, squeezing his dick in retaliation to make him groan.

He chuckles darkly, immediately shoving three fingers inside her. She gasps, curses, and from then on, the space between them fills with lewd, desperate sounds, fervent, rapid touch, and their lips all over each other as they kiss and suck and bite wherever they can reach.

"You were just desperate to get fucked, weren't you?" He purrs, sliding his free hand away from her ass to cup and knead her chest through the flimsy bodysuit. "Tell me, bunny. Did he make you feel that good?"

A soft sob breaks out of her when he pounds his fingers right into her g-spot, purposefully pressing the heel of his palm against her clit. She shakes her head, hand trembling a little around his dick.

He smirks, kissing right over her pulse. Then his voice comes out like smouldering honey into her ears. "Mmh, bet you only came because you knew I was listening, didn't you?"

She nods, eyes fluttering shut in bliss; her hand's movements around his cock grow unsteady, more instinctive than purposeful.

"And you—fucking loved hearing—all of it," she pants out, teasing his frenulum for good measure, making him shudder. She smiles, content and hot, and her free hand tangles through his hair to pull his head back and whisper into his ear, "Just like I knew you would."

He curses under his breath, quickening the pumping of his fingers as the lewd sounds of her arousal and her moans threatens to make him come into her hand—but not yet; there's so much more he wants to do before then.

"Maybe," he admits, hand leaving her chest to slowly pull hers out of his pants, earning a whine from her. "But you wanted me riled up over it too, little minx," he withdraws his hand from her cunt as well, and turns his head to bite on her jaw, "So damn desperate for me, aren't you? I bet if I made you get down on your knees and beg for my dick, you'd fucking do it too."

Jinx tenses against him only for a moment—one long enough to betray how affected she really is—before she answers him with burning confidence.

"You know you don't have anything to prove, right?" she purrs, freeing her hand from his grasp to cup his bulge and squeeze it as she teases, "You just wouldn’t give it to me and I was hungry. Still am," before dropping to her knees before him and pulling his pants down.

His eyes darken, and she feels a rush of heat go through her under his stare.

"Open your fucking mouth then," he commands, his voice so low and raspy it sends shivers down her spine.

For the sake of her pride, she might like to say something, show some resistance; yet she's wanted to have him again far too long, and the inflection of his tone leaves her unable to control the parting of her lips.

Ekko tilts her face up with two fingers and leans down, tracing his thumb along her bottom-lip as he observes her with unbridled hunger before he spits right into her mouth and forces it shut so she can only swallow—not that she would've needed much convincing, but the authority he shows her now is miles better than she remembers.

"Fuck…" he whispers, mostly to himself. "Pretty little slut," he says and drags his hand away from her face to give it a firm slap instead.

He then tilts it back to his cock, taking advantage of the way her lips had parted as she'd gasped from the blow stinging and reddening her cheek so he can slip in; both hands holding her head steady against his need.

Jinx moans as his dick slides over her tongue, hot and heavy with a need she's mirrored since she'd seen him at the bar. One of her hands quickly slips past her own waistband so she can play with herself while the other fondles his balls, and Ekko curses once more; his hips bucking forward with no warning.

She splutters around his cock, her breath short as her nose meets the coarse, white trail of hair she's sketched more than once after their first encounter. His head is thrown back in bliss as she looks up at him, yet although she wishes she could stay right there and please him, her throat constricts and Ekko's grip loosens so she can pull back and breathe.

"Fuck, look at you…" he marvels, one hand moving from her head to his cock as he traces it along her spit-slick lips and chin. "S'like you didn't get stuffed back there. Such a greedy whore, aren't you?"

"Says the one who's been non-stop jacking off to me," she rasps out, and his gut twists.

How long had she been stalking him?

And why did it turn him on so badly?

"Now, come on," she purrs, languidly massaging his balls, "Give him to me."

Ekko growls and shoves his dick back into her mouth without ceremony, being met with a desperate little moan that makes his cock twitch. His grip tightens, pulling at her roots until they sting and strands of hair fall loose—she knows he's close to losing it so soon, and the realization fills her with pride, making her smile and hum around his throbbing member.

Jinx's fingers bruise her clit while she hollows her cheeks and presses her tongue to the underside of his cock where a vein pulses. Her jaw aches and her body burns with need and humiliation she finds she revels in while he hurriedly fucks her throat raw and tender for his own pleasure.

She knows he's angry, needy, and she can't blame him. She had wanted him jealous and possessive as this, had wanted to break his resolve and show him he could be just as bad as she is—he might be using her like a fleshlight now, but she's playing him just as well and he knows it too.

"Fucking missed that mouth," he groans, pushing past her uvula once more to spill pre-cum right into her throat. "Maybe I should've brought you back with me," he says, and she whines, trying to nod with his dick in her mouth. "Should've tossed you naked on my bed and let my whole crew hear how good you can be when you want to."

Jinx whimpers, her eyes rolling back as she slips two fingers inside herself and feels her saliva dripping out of her mouth to coat down her throat and chest.

"Yeah, I bet you would like that," he drawls, pushing her head further against him and keeping it there until she chokes and saliva bursts out between them. He pulls back until just the tip is in, teasing her tongue through the tight ring of her plush lips. "I could tie you up and use you day and night, and that still wouldn't be enough for my pretty, spoiled brat, mmh?"

She looks up at him through teary eyes and ruined makeup, and has the gall to roll her eyes at him with his dick in her mouth—something which she pays for immediately when he slams his cock back into her throat. She digs her nails into his balls in retaliation, yet Ekko only growls with pleasure and renews his fervor.

It's delirious to know he's every bit as insane and masochistic as she can be in the end. Jinx hardly minds the lack of oxygen right then; not when she can feel him twitch and hear him curse each time she takes him although she chokes. The sound of her moans and her cunt gushing around her fingers leaves him just as dizzy as her.

It isn't long before she feels him twitch more insistently, his balls tightening beneath her fingers, and his pace growing desperate.

"Fuck—Gonna come—Gonna come down that fucking throat," he grunts as he edges closer.

And although she yearns for the salty taste of his ecstasy on her tongue, Jinx wants more—so much more. She withdraws both hands and places them against his thighs; pushing and tapping in wordless demand for him to stop.

It takes him embarrassingly too long to notice and to understand what she means as he feels white-hot pleasure ready to burst in and out of him with each pass of her tongue under his cock. Yet he manages to pull back, suddenly worried he'd taken it too far and misread some signs, hurt her in ways she hadn't enjoyed in the end.

She's heaving by the time his dick leaves her mouth, a string of saliva breaking between his tip and her lips. And she's beyond ruined, maybe just as much as he is.

"You okay, baby?" He pants out, gently cradling her face and being met with a smouldering gaze that gives him pause. "Oh…I see," he breathes, tone dark and amused.

"Inside, Ekko," she manages through her raw, exhausted throat. "Want you to finish—"

He huffs out a laugh, pulling back to let her fall on all fours as she struggles to breathe and hold herself up without his help. The rough concrete feels cold and unnerving beneath her palms, yet she can't focus on it so long before his hand weaves through her hair and sharply pulls her up.

"So fucking demanding," he remarks, and hooks his fingers through the ripped material of her bodysuit to finish tearing it open completely.

"Just desperate to get fucked raw by the enemy, are we?" He teases, and before she can form the bratty retort she had in mind, he hauls one og her legs over his shoulder, stretching her hamstrings, and lines up to her entrance while she trembles.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he whispers hotly in her ear, and slams inside her without ceremony. "I'll paint that pretty pussy so much better than he painted your face. You won't remember anyone but me."

She shudders and bucks her hips into him, already so sensitive each thrust leaves them both gasping for air.

"You're so full of yourself," she breathlessly manages, scraping her nails along the back of his neck and the base of his scalp

"I'd wager you are, sweetheart," he quips, pressing a hand to her abdomen where his cock bulges out with each thrust.

Jinx cries out, sharply digging her nails into his skin as she throws her head back. He hisses, moving his free hand to her hip so he can guide her movements and fuck deeper into her.

"Sh—Shut up," she grits out, her attitude fading as his cock pummels into her cervix and stretches her out so much that it burns. "Gods, you're so—"

"Yeah, baby?" he purrs, leaning closer to lick and nip at the shell of her ear.

The motion strains her hamstrings once more, his pelvis pushing her leg straighter and further up on his shoulder. Jinx yelps, instinctively clenching.

"That other guy wasn't as big, huh?" he smirks, his hand leaving the muscular, biotech-streaked plane of her stomach to carelessly push against her cheek. Her face turns, her other cheek mashed against bricks, and she can feel his smirk along her jaw. "Don't you know no one can make you feel like I can, my sweet brat?" He bites down hard, sucking a bruise at the junction between her jaw and ear, and she cries softly. "You're made for me, baby. Only me."

"N-Nuh," she protests, blinking back tears and grasping onto the roots of his hair to pull her head back.

He blinks in surprise, his hand falling from her cheek to her collarbone, then dragging down her shoulder. In mere seconds, Jinx surges forward to smash their lips together in a filthy, desperate kiss. He licks into her mouth, and Jinx takes the opportunity to suck on his tongue in return.

He groans, moving his hand to cup and squeeze her breast; making quick work of tearing at the last of her bodysuit's fabric. She releases his tongue to moan, pushing her chest into his hand, and Ekko slaps and squeezes it again, and again, and again.

"Mmh—F-fuck…Ekko—" She whines between messy kisses, her body pulled taut with each passing second. "H-Harder—Please—Want it harder—"

He tenses for a moment, his cock twitching at the request. He pulls away, pinching her nipple between two knuckles and pulling until she yelps, then releases it to slap her tit. Her usually pale skin has turned pink from heat and impact, and Ekko finds it suits her just as well.

She arches her back but doesn't get the time to form another plea before his hands fall to her hips and he withdraws to turn her around. Her half-bare front presses against cool bricks, her head spinning from the sudden motion.

Her cunt throbs, weeping to be filled by him again. She wants to cuss him out more than anything, tears of frustration streaming down her flushed face. Yet when he presses closer, lining up to her entrance then wrapping his arms around her —one at her waist while his other hand cups her chest— Jinx can only bite her lip in anticipation.

"M'gonna reshape you with my cock, sweet girl," he breathes into her ear and pushes forward, his length filling her so fast it knocks the breath out of her. "Gonna fuck you so—hard—only I fit you right," he groans and squeezes her chest, her waist, anything he can claim.

She snakes an arm behind his neck, the cool metal making him hiss, and uses it as leverage to fuck herself back onto him. She's so close, so so close it hurts, and the second his arm drops from her waist so his hand can dip between her legs to circle two fingers over her hard, beating clit, Jinx feels hot, slick warmth trickle out of it.

Fuck.

"Oh, sweetheart," he chuckles in disbelief, rubbing faster circles over her clit to feel her squirt again. "Look at you crying from both ends for me…Such a dumb crybaby when I get you on my dick, mmh?"

"F-Fuck you," she huffs, although she continues to rock against him, to chase the friction of his hand, the hungry stretch of his cock.

She half-expects him to call her out on it, maybe make some joke about her already fucking him, but his words come out different.

"You gonna come, Pow?" he coos tauntingly, the sound of skin slapping and her cunt gushing around him deafening to both their ears. "Can't help it, can you?" She wants to argue, but clenches instead. "…Fuck—Greedy little thing—Look at you getting dicked down— twice in the same night."

"Sh-Shut up," she quavers, her voice drowning in soft, overwhelmed moans she cannot control. "S'your fault…"

"Oh, yeah?" He chuckles, slightly amused by her admission of neediness—for him, that is; seeing as earlier had not sated her in the end. "Well, that's too bad, trouble. Because now if you want to come," his two fingers slide from her clip to her entrance, teasing the stretched flesh wrapped around him, "You're gonna have to apologize for being such a desperate brat," he finishes and dips his fingers inside, stretching her further.

She cries out, pleasure flaring white-hot. She's close, so close, but just as she feels her orgasm cresting, Ekko completely stills inside her. Her heart and breath stutters, there's no way he—

"It's so easy, Powder," he whispers in her ear. "Apologize."

And that's it. All her frustration, her despair, and her resentment comes up to the surface. It racks through her, makes her want to send him on his ass and ride him stupid until all he knows is her—until he never forgets he, too, belongs to someone in this world; her.

It's his fault. All of it is. She wanted him —him, only him— and he had willingly chosen his hypocritical morals over her. So maybe she's not easy, maybe she ruins things, but then who does he think he is?

She twists her neck at an awkward angle to glare at him, chest heaving.

"Y-You left me," she protests, and when he opens his mouth to retort, she spits on his face. "Fuck you."

He reels back. "Did you just fucking spit on me?"

"And I'd do it again," she sneers, which in turn prompts Ekko to fuck into her again. "Gods—Fuck—Y-You—F-Fuck you—You left—You did!"

"That what this is all about?" He rasps out, withdrawing his fingers to properly drill into her and palm her clit. "You never—never wanted me around before," equal resentment paints his tone, yet his body does not get the memo. Jinx couldn't feel bad if she tried, not when fills her just right. "You got off, J—What—What more did you want?"

She struggles, each thrust hitting so deep and so hard it turns her brain into mush. She can hardly feel her legs, yet she doesn't need them as he holds her up, moving her body like a fuckdoll.

"Y-You," she sobs, the friction of his cock and the tight, claiming hold he has her in making her eyes roll back in her head. "On-Only y-you—Could only think of—y-you behind that door," she splutters, the coil in her gut painfully tight.

She hears him mutter her name, the sound broken and disbelieving, before he pulls her up and closer; the tips of her boots barely grazing the floor as he handles her with dizzying ease.

"S-Said y-your—your name the first time I—Fuck…you wouldn't give it to me. I didn't—Was so c-confused…but I—I—Wanted—Wanted you," he growls and slams into her so hard it forces more hot slick spurting out of her.

She twists her neck, trying to look at him with pleading, teary eyes. She could come and deal with the consequences, but something in her resists—needs him.

"E-Ekko—I—I can't—Please," she begs, her head quickly lolling into the crook of his neck as she mewls and cries.

"Good girl," he lets out a strained, pleased breath as she goes practically limp and is rendered but a mess of confessions and pleas, soft little mewls that burn right through his skin. "C'mon sweet girl," his fingers tease her clit, a promise of ruin waiting for her if she gives in. "You know what you have to do."

Her pliant, needy state fuels him. He wants nothing more than to feel her shatter. His desire is woven through each motion, each filthy sound meant for her.

She's so close, so so close all she can do is tremble and sob and clench around him as she waits for his permission—if she was less fucked-out, she'd be horrified by her submissive, pitiful state. But right now, all she wants is him. Him and his disgustingly smug, self-righteous antics. Him and his stupidly huge cock and hands and big ass filthy mouth.

She's not sorry about repaying him for his rejection, sure, but there's a part of her struggling up to the surface, breaking through murky water to get to forsaken land—to him, to them. She can't remember it all, only does she know that this is not worth throwing away again, and that to have done so before was a mistake. And truly, Jinx desperately wants to come now.

"I'm sorry—M'so—I—Mmh—" Her words fade to a long moan that earns her a rough, guttural groan from Ekko before he hauls her up a little more and starts furiously rubbing at her clit while he pummels into her hard and fast.

"There's a good—fucking—girl," he grunts, as though her rapture was ruining him. "Go on, pretty. Come for me," and his words snap the last of her restraints, her body jerking as she comes with a loud, sharp cry that pierces through the alley.

Ekko's relentless in his desire still, even as she feels her body tire, growing so tender and sensitive that it almost hurts. His fingers bruise her sore clit, her chest is racked with electric pin-pricks as he squeezes it, and her cunt is raw and gushing—but she loves it, she loves the pain as much as he does.

She tries to grasp onto his arms, clawing and digging her sharp, metallic nails while she cries and whimpers, each sound pulled from her sizzling like faulty wiring.

"E-Ekko—" She tries, not knowing what she wants to say, to ask—but he knows. Somehow he always does.

"Fuck, pretty girl, look at you," he breathes, pulling her face to his in an awkward angle. She's flushed and tear-streaked, her face puffy and her lips parted as she moans dumbly, mind foggy. "Always so smart but I get you so stupid on this dick, mmh?" He teases, sadistically slowing down his pace as she whimpers, fearing the end while he revels in her desperation.

She chases his mouth, failing and landing a kiss on his jaw, and her breath stutters when he goes completely still, then withdraws and sets her back on her feet. Her knees buckle, but he pulls her upright with one arm while he awkwardly rids himself of his jacket and his hoodie, bunching them in his hand.

Jinx whimpers when he lifts her up, his bunched-up clothes pressing into her front as he walks them towards a stack of crates. She barely has the time to register him tossing the clothes over the rough surface before she's thrown over it, her legs dangling uselessly as he steps between them and half-climbs over her. He lines up, then rests one hand at her hip and the other at the edge of the crate-stack for leverage so he can fuck her stupid while she lays boneless under him.

"Fuck—" he groans as her velvety heat wraps around him tightly. "I should hate you—I thought—thought you wanted me to—" She frantically shakes her head, drooling and crying as he eases her into an increasingly urgent pace again. "But now I know," Ekko chuckles darkly. "You want me to be—be mad at you—want me to call you—n-names," he slaps her ass and she sobs, pushing back for more. "Want me to—to make you take it so you—so you don't have to face how desperate y-you are for me."

"Sh-Shut up," she stutters, his clothes doing little to soften the rough surface she's continuously thrust into. "I could leave—F-Fuck you—" She whimpers when he shifts, deeper, and her body heats up, stifling yet blissful.

His hand slides up her hip to her spine, the weight of his large palm on her bare back grounding and claiming. "But you'd come right back to me," he taunts her. "This pussy belongs to me. Shit—" He gasps, getting lost in the feeling of her sucking him in, trying to milk him dry."Meant for me—All of you—Fucking meant for me…"

"Y-Yours," Jinx lets out a broken sound, her nails raking and splintering the crate. "Only yours. No one—No one else can—Fuck," she cries out as she comes for a second time on his cock.

She cries and laughs and shoves back against him; needy and uncoordinated, desperate to be filled by him, fucked raw until she can't take any more.

"That's right, gorgeous," He praises, pressing his front to her back to grunt in her ear, his hand sliding under her to find her clit. The heel of his palm grinds against it with every thrust, aggravating Jinx through the throes of her barely-receding orgasm. "Only I can—m-make you come so hard, baby," he kisses her jaw, then lower, and nuzzles into her neck. "Asshole couldn't give you more than one—N-Never—Never with me, Pow."

"Ekko—" she gasps, her body rippling with ceaseless, aching tension.

"Fuck," he curses, breath hot against her neck. "Yeah, pretty girl. That's it—Oh, there you go..."

Her mouth falls open to let out a near-soundless scream as yet another orgasm crashes through her too quickly, and her exhausted cunt is barely able to spray her ecstasy. Pleasure rips her nerves apart, pulling and undoing her every part to leave her boneless in a skin that barely feels like her own—it's his, all of her.

Her body jerks, twitches, trying to outrun the intensity of their embrace and failing because his grip keeps her exactly where he wants her. Ekko swears, a strangled sound, and the next thrust goes deep enough to steal her breath.

"Please," she whispers, not sure what she's begging for anymore. "E-Ekko, Plea—"

Ekko’s hand shifts from the edge of the crate so he can lace his fingers through her pink, spiky hair; undoing her buns some more as he roughly pulls her head back to arch her further.

"You want mercy now?" He darkly murmurs into her ear, then bites it.

Jinx shakes her head, trembling. "No," she sobs. "I want—"

"Say it," he breathes.

"I want—I want more—" She sniffles, hiccups, "Wanna f-feel you c-come inside…"

Something primal bursts in his chest, and Ekko feels his balls tighten far harder than before. For the past few days, he had tried to convince himself that their desire, their frenzy for each other had been aided by those damn flowers more than anything, that reason could and should prevail—but he can't lie to either of them anymore. This isn't, cannot ever be a one-time thing.

"Then take it," he growls, and pounds into her like he's punishing both of them for how easy it is, for how inevitable they are no matter how wrong it seems to be still.

His pace is merciless, the alley but a tangle of noise and heat and slick skin slapping frantically. And Ekko knows; he knows if they got caught now, he would never be able to explain this away and keep the trust of his people. Yet part of him loves that he's making her so loud, that each collision burst their bubble and makes it more tangible—risky but real.

"First and last," she says, voice ragged, slightly twisting her neck as his fist slackens in her hair to look at him as she speaks hoarsely, "The only one who—who gets to come inside me—forever…"

Her vision blurs and her cunt pulses as he fucks through the resistance, plowing against her cervix with fervor. He drops her head, his face dropping to her shoulder as he pants and sucks and bites over the thin, easily-bruising skin there.

"That’s it," he purrs, voice shaky. "Good girl—So good for me…"

She sobs, weakly nodding with her face mushed against the crate, heavy-lidded and sensitive. Her body jostles with every urgent thrust, his pelvis slapping against her ass with a deafening sound. And she takes it, smiling lazily as she gets closer to what she wanted—only one.last.thing.

"M-M'yours, 'Ko," she mumbles, feeling as he puts more weight on her, his own body growing tired. "C-Come with me—Breed me a-again, baby…"

His restraint breaks almost instantly. Ekko’s whole body locks, hips stuttering, and the groan that tears out of him sounds pathetically vulnerable as it meets her soft cry. He presses in as close as he can, filling her with hot, thick cum as they both shudder and tremble.

For a second there is only both of them; panting, sweaty and ruined. They slump over the crates, boneless and tangled, and wordlessly embrace the receding rapture as their bodies take an agonizingly long time to calm down.

Ekko stays pressed to her, breathing hard, and his mouth brushes her shoulder. He leaves a kiss there, long and deep; an apology as much as it is a promise. And for a moment there, Jinx thinks she remembers this one thing—Ekko is part of her, has been missing from her for far too long. She loves him, she realizes. And that is entirely too terrifying to say out loud.

⋆⚙️˚｡⋆.˚⌖ ࣪ ˖. ݁₊ ⴵ . ݁⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨❤️‍🔥୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚⋆. ݁₊ ⴵ . ࣪ ˖. ݁₊⋆.˚⌖ ࣪ ˖ ˚⚙️⋆

[ohcaptains]

[sugar-petals]

it’s so funny to me that it’s called ‘beta reader’ because by definition that makes us fic authors alphas 

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

YOU. WILL. WRITE. oh you want to write so bad. all the motivation is here. the plot is so good. words come to you so naturally. YOU ARE GOING TO WRITE. RIGHT NOW.

[by-ilmater]

YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! YOU CAN CRAFT A COMPLETE SENTENCE! YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! YOU USE THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF COMMAS! YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! YOUR PROSE IS GOOD AND RIGHT! YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! EVERYONE UNDERSTANDS YOUR VISION!

[dsfalkweon]

YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! YOU USE A NORMAL AMOUNT OF ADVERBS!

[fool-counter]

YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! YOU CAN CRAFT A COMPLETE SENTENCE! YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! YOU USE THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF COMMAS! YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! YOUR PROSE IS GOOD AND RIGHT! YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! EVERYONE UNDERSTANDS YOUR VISION!

YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! YOU USE A NORMAL AMOUNT OF ADVERBS!

fool count: 2

[the-haiku-bot]

YOU’RE A REGULAR

WRITER! YOU USE A NORMAL

AMOUNT OF ADVERBS!

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

[suigintou]

youve literally allowed shapes and colors to poison your mind

[crawlinglilcritter]

writers block and burn-out. oh. oh :/

[mearpsdyke]

[id in alt text]

hi everyone! im hosting a comment train on twitter and thought it'd be nice to share this on tumblr too. ❤️‍🩹 the dynamic is simple: if you're an author who struggles gaining attention on your fics, you can sign up to get your fics to a broader audience, and if you're a fic reader, you may get new and interesting fics to support.

as stated in the infographics, each reader HAS to leave a comment on the fic they're matched to. in the following forms you can detail what kind of fics you prefer and which tropes/triggers you avoid so we can match you more efficiently. thank you for your time :)

reblogs are appreciated!

sign up form for writers. / sign up form for readers.