I'm Fae, I'll help you a find way out...maybe. Please remain aware and respectful down here, the woodland creatures don't take it kindly when they're disrespected. To ensure everyone's safety, minors do stay out of the woods and do not interact with this space.
I pride myself in being versatile and open minded to most pathways but be warned, tracks such as incest, bestiality, age play, race play and pedophilia are not tolerated and will not be lead. The woods are currently favorable to the arcane universe with a preference for the character Jinx and her variants; but the wind could shift the trees in another direction every once and a while. You will encounter inhabitants of the forest so I feel it is my duty to inform you that they're all very different, some fluffy and kind while others bite and disrupt. You will always be informed in advance.
Looks like we got two paths ahead of us here...
Scaredy Cat: Jinx enjoys your fear a bit too much. +18
Girlfriend Jinx who keeps her hand in your back pocket to let everyone know you're hers. Girlfriend Jinx who has the habit of groping your buttcheek like it's a peach. Possessive girlfriend Jinx whose nails dig in your plump flesh when she notices a pair of eyes lingering on you. Sharp and slow. Your little gasp makes her grin, she rubs and pats at your ass through the fabric, "let's get you something to drink babe"
Hi!!! This is probably not very good but I wrote it with my heart and vagina so it’s okay <33 Vamp!jinx, 18+, 579 words. Content warnings: blood sucking, oral sex, orgasm denial (Jinx gets hungry)
Jinx. The vicious, the sinful, the insidious vampire who has been ingrained the folklore of your small town for centuries as a mistress of darkness…is on your bedroom floor.
correction—she wasn't just on your bedroom floor. She was on her knees. Looking up at you like you created every star in the universe one by one; Just for her.
To think, a year ago you were just an ordinary woman who decided asking the ethereal being of a woman always lingering around the museum you worked at was a good idea. You didn't who or what she was at the time. In all honestly, you just thought she was hot.
Now here you are a year later, a bloodthirsty vampire between your thighs. The fact that this had become your new normal was absurd in every way. If you thought about it for too long you're sure you'd lose your head. However, The thing about being with Jinx was that she often made it difficult to think straight. Especially when she was on her knees.
Your breathing becomes shallow with each stroke of her tongue. Your thighs quake around her head as she digs her nails into you waist, trying to keep you still. Jinx is always passionate, but this was something different. Usually she's a tease—Or better yet, a sadistic tormentor. Drawing orgasms for hours, Glazing slowly along your clit, looking up at you with her darkened pink irises and lazy no-good smirk every time you tried to buck your hips or tug at her hair to speed her up. It drove you crazy, but it also made you come so hard you saw stars.
But this was a nice and well deserved change of pace too. You can't help but wonder what brought it on.
You pant heavily as she speeds up, your hips coming up to meet her tongue as you get closer and closer to finishing. She doesn't try to stop you anymore. In fact, your squirming only encourages her to speed up more. You're clawing at her shoulders; about to have the orgasm of your life, when she just…stops.
A shaking groan comes out of your mouth as you drop back 0n the be. Before you can get your wits about you to complain, You feel her teeth crawling up your skin. You startle back up to watch as she sinks her fangs into the flesh of your thigh. You hiss at the sting, but your eyes stay fixed on her. Her eyes flutter closed as the blood flows into her mouth. And that explains her impatience. Jinx is hungry. Starving, based on how greedily she suckles. Had you been starving your girlfriend?
She runs her tongue over the small puncture wound carefully, collecting the last droplets of blood. Your eyes flutter as she lifts her head to look back up at you. Her eyes half closed and buzzing with satisfaction. Typical.
"…You got a little something there." You mumble as you stare down at her. You were still disgruntled about your ruined orgasm but looking down at her face, covered in your blood and arousal—the very essence of you—had you heating back up quicker than your pride would ever allow you to admit.
She gazes into your eyes lovingly as she licks around her mouth to gather the rest of her impromptu meal. She was sick, twisted, and vile. And you liked it that way.
CW: 1k, established relationship, non-sexual intimacy, jinx quirkiness, kiss mention
.✦ ݁˖ Jinx has a thing for oversized t-shirts. She crawls under the fabric when you wear them, her skin pressing against yours, head resting on your chest. You catch the faint magenta hue of her gaze from the raised collar, and she sometimes pokes her head out to nip at your chin.
.✦ ݁˖ Jinx stares a lot and doesn’t blink enough. It’s pretty intense even if she doesn’t mean to. She does the frog blink if you stare back.
.✦ ݁˖ Sharing food is a ritual that you always partake in. She takes a forkful in your plate, and you take a bite from hers; she’ll get offended if you don’t. She does it with drinks too, even if you ordered the same one. It’s all about the act rather than the actual food, she feels close to you that way.
.✦ ݁˖ Jinx has vision, you turn into her doll often if she sees anything that could suit you. Let it be makeup, clothes or hairstyle.
.✦ ݁˖ On that same topic, she finds self-care to be very healing. She likes it when you do each other’s nails, hair and wear face masks. [eg: dyeing Isha’s hair]
.✦ ݁˖ Her three main love languages are physical touch, gift-giving and acts of service. The third one is the most noticeable early on; she repairs whatever needs fixing around your place and she even makes things that facilitate your daily routine.
.✦ ݁˖ In the beginning of your relationship, she struggles with day-to-day physical contact, so instead of holding hands the traditional way, she holds your wrist or your elbow, gently directs you or rests a hand on your shoulder.
.✦ ݁˖ As said before, quirky/awkward physical attention so she pretends to flick things off your shoulder or smoothen your clothes just as an excuse. She twirls the end of your hair a lot. [If you’re bald or have a buzz cut, she ponders over you like an orb and kisses the top of your head don’t worry]
.✦ ݁˖ She loves when you get interested in her hobbies and will gladly teach you the basics of bomb making. She’s not the most patient teacher but gives great advice and enjoys being the center of your attention
.✦ ݁˖ Jinx is very gentle in a way that feels careful. She sometimes holds you as if you’re fragile because of her own vulnerability.
.✦ ݁˖ Jinx takes pride in her hair and gets aggressive quickly if it’s touched without her permission. However, you have free reign to run your hands down the strands, wash it, style it. She always goes quiet when you do, tensing before fully relaxing with a deep sigh.
.✦ ݁˖ Jinx mirrors you a lot without noticing. If you eat candies in a certain order, she’ll notice it and start doing it, at first because she’s curious, to then fully adopting it.
.✦ ݁˖ She collects everything you give her, hair ties, candy wrappers and things alike; along with mementos from outings you do together. Jinx is very creative; she has top tier scrapbooks and junk journals that can’t properly close from how much she’s put in them.
.✦ ݁˖ When you compliment her on something, she doesn’t immediately say thank you but instead tilts her head, smile then nods. [Whatever you complimented her on she will now never stop doing it]
.✦ ݁˖ The first time you invite her to your place, she looks everywhere, opening the drawers and closets, remembering everything. She’s never judging the mess, just like knowing what you’re up to.
.✦ ݁˖ A lot of her creations start to reflect you one way or another: she paints you on her bombs, she makes a little cartoon shape of you next to hers, probably has a gun or a bomb named after you. You fully become a part of her world, like she's in yours.
.✦ ݁˖ Jinx is an explosive person; the rare times she lashes out at you, she feels guilty for very long periods of time. She looks like a kicked puppy for days and leaves a bunch of little gifts around for you to find until you have to reaffirm that you’re not mad and that you still love her.
.✦ ݁˖ She will kiss you with morning breath and don’t you dare back away. She lets out a loud “eww” afterwards looking very smug.
.✦ ݁˖ Jinx would be much quieter and calmer around you, as she doesn’t need to keep the scary kooky persona and uphold her Jinx reputation.
.✦ ݁˖ Jinx is a light sleeper usually but with you she sleeps like a rock and is very difficult to wake up. Unless she senses some distress coming from you. Adding on to that, she sleeps much more now, sometimes even dozing off during your quiet times.
.✦ ݁˖ Jinx loves her weapons; there’s a gun in her dresser and somewhere under the bed; that won’t go away anytime soon.
.✦ ݁˖ She watches you sleep sometimes; she appreciates that you trust her so much with that.
.✦ ݁˖ Jinx is very protective, often overbearingly so. It is definitely a conversation that needs to be had but let her protect you from time to time for her own sanity.
.✦ ݁˖ Your boobs and thighs will turn into stress toys, and you have no say in it. [emotional support boob]
.✦ ݁˖ Jinx doesn’t like chess; she finds it boring but she’s actually really good at it because she reads people well and can scheme quickly.
.✦ ݁˖ She’s an avid consumer of super sour candies, she takes mouthful of them, keeping her eyes wide open and then act nonchalant like her mouth isn’t watering.
.✦ ݁˖ She doesn’t swear that much but instead comes up with nicknames that are so descriptive and detailed, it stings but it’s also really funny.
.✦ ݁˖ Jinx loves goofy looking animals like the sunfish and the aye-aye
.✦ ݁˖ Based off her diet in the show, I don’t think she consumes that much sugar aside from candies and drinks. She’s more of a spicy and savory girl with her favorite meal being Eel stew and pickled foods.
.✦ ݁˖ Jinx wants to travel. In her healing, she no longer feels tethered to her “jinx” identity, nor stuck in one place. She’d genuinely be curious about other cultures and different ways of living.
CW: 5.1k, gp!Jinx, fear kink, reader is jumpy and easily scared but not oblivious, jacking off, vaginal penetration, creampie, low-key attention starved Jinx, overstimulation, cockwarming.
Men and minors do not interact.
Jinx is a prankster. It’s a well-known fact. Don’t fall asleep around her or you’ll wake up with doodles all over your face, don’t tell her about your fears because she’ll use them against you when she’s bored. Don’t’ show too much vulnerability because she will abuse it. That’s just how she is; mostly in good fun…sometimes not so much.
For you, being startled was a daily response. Benign things made you flinch; the harsh and sudden sizzling of neon lights, the sound of a siren in the distance, a glass dropping. But you’d like to believe anyone in your situation would’ve jumped.
You and Jinx becoming roommates was a match made in hell. A bottle of gas next to an open flame.
Jinx is sneaky. Despite her heavy boots and the trinkets hanging from her belt, the bluenette manages to be quiet as a mouse. She catches you off guard, every time.
The first time she scared you, she simply laughed at you. The second too. But third occurrence made her pay attention. You’re jumpy. The sweet kind that pouts after getting surprised. Jinx thought at first it was because of her, wouldn’t be the first time she frightened people, but no. That’s just how you were. Nothing could’ve prepared her for how much she’d enjoy that little quirk.
She couldn’t ignore the growing tinge of satisfaction your fear gave her. And the bluenette wasn’t gentle about it either; well, maybe, to mock you a little bit. You’re her roommate, she should be kinder, but come on, you’re simply too cute to resist.
From dragging her nails down your back when she walked past you, to purposely resting her cold palms on your arms and legs when you least expect it. Sometimes hiding in a room, waiting to corner you. She boasts about it later on, recalling her most successful pranks, the ones where she got you screaming. She took this habit of filming your reactions and snapping pictures with lighting speed, says it’s for “memories”. She makes silly stickers later on to spam in your text messages.
It was adorable, the way you’d jump and let out a little scream of her name; “Jinx! Stop scaring me, it’s not funny.”
Oh, but it was. Hilarious. She teases you about your reactions all the time, mocking stare peering at you through heavy lids, face flushed in amusement. An inexhaustible well of constant entertainment you were. “Say how did you even get this far in life without a heart attack?” Sometimes, her teasing was insistent enough to have some eyes turn to you with concern. You swear it wasn’t bullying, just simple fun between roommates. And it is.
You and Jinx have good relationship, fear factor pushed aside, she’s a sweet girl in the most unconventional of ways. She pays attention to little things you wouldn’t expect a roommate to do. Such as repurchasing your favorite tea when it’s her turn to do the groceries or picking up the laundry for you, she even lights the candles you like at the end of a particularly tiring day and shares her silence with you, which you found out later on was rare.
She lets herself enjoy the peace with you for a few hours before turning off the lights and dropping something to delve back into her favorite routine, your gasps and her laugh.
Jinx revels in your scared expressions. You make it easy too; one could think you do it on purpose. As if you know she likes it so much. The high-pitched lilt in your voice and wide eyes makes her cock strain in her pants. Jinx keeps teasing you, scaring you on purpose. It wasn’t her fault you got her dick jumping like a fucking exclamation mark one flinch at a time. She got warm every time you’d so much as tremble, you have her programmed, attuned to your fear, body tensing like it received a command.
She walks through your shared apartment, halting in her steps when your back face the room, turned towards the sink or bending in front of the fridge, she stares from your shoulders to your calves. It is so easy.
The repetitive nature of your reactions doesn’t bore her. It makes her even hungrier for them. Jinx loves to glide by you, closer than needed, subtly not pressing her half hard on to your ass, cold palms encasing your arms. Then you jump, slightly rubbing on her growing bulge, pulling a less and less concealed groan from her lips.
The few times she’d really frighten you past the point of you simply flinching, she’d murmur a small “sorry” with a big grin on her face, wrapping her arms around you and pushing her head on your shoulder to look at you.
“Aww, don’t be like that.”
And the disappointed, pouty face that she loves so much turns to her. She bites her lip, holding the little delirious laugh of amusement and arousal, hiding her face behind your warm skin.
It is fair to say Jinx enjoys having that power over you. Making you the slightest bit paranoid when you open a door or when the place gets too quiet. She enjoys sitting on the pipes above, where you can’t see and watches you from there. How your neck twists and turns for a pair of magenta eyes looking back at you, maybe a hint of blue. In a way, you started thinking about her as much as she thinks about you.
Her favorite type of pranks are the build-ups. Drop something next to you, turn off the light at random moments, poking you when she walks by. Getting you more and more scared throughout the day, to the grand final blow that would actually get you to scream. Then, she harvests your soft and pliant form, tired from her antics. Jinx embraces you in a comforting attempt, like a thank you for entertaining her, like aftercare.
“You’re so annoying.” You mumbled as she cooed at you, rolling a strand of your hair between her fingers, pulling a little bit.
“T’was a joke toots, you know I wouldn’t hurt ya. Hmm?”
By that time, her dick is rock hard, pushing painfully on the zipper of her pants. She swiftly leaves after patting you on the head, one of the only times she actually leaves you alone to jerk off the ache between her legs.
Anyone would get frustrated by that behavior, complaining about a lack of maturity, or her desperate need for attention all the time; but you didn’t. You were patient with her, rolling your eyes, bottom lip pushed up, sighing, but never berating. She started seeking out that soft, exhausted look just as much as your scared one.
Jinx jacks herself off at the thought of your pretty face scrunched up in fear, the little screams coming from your mouth, your trembling shoulders. It’s fucked up and she knows it. And still, she imagines other ways to scare you, something that would really get you going. Her arousal grow as she pictures the micro expressions of panic you had. She lays in bed at night, scheming on your behalf, riling herself up in the process.
When she needs the extra stimuli or feels nostalgic towards her best works, she pulls out her phone with a trembling hand, sliding the other one down her underwear with urgency. She opens the favorite folder on her phone. A wide assemblage of her mischiefs. Videos of you, pictures, voice recordings. Some of those featuring only you looking around with an air of worry. Foreplay.
She progresses down in her depraved gallery; her own giggling and huffing as an introduction. Then, you come into the frame; “Jinx! Stop that!” She matches the ragged breathing coming from her earphones as she got closer. You say her name again, voice high pitched by fear and embarrassment. Her hand tenses, closed in a tight fist around the pink flushed tip, milky goop gathering at the top making her fingers slippery.
“Hmff-”
Jinx bites the fabric of her shirt, grasping onto her own cock tight enough to cause pain. Not yet, not yet, not yet. She skims through other videos, she zooms in on your face, hums at the worry in your gaze as if you could answer through the phone. Jinx scrolls down, keeping a slow and tight rhythm on herself, prolonging it.
She hears your off tune singing first; yes, one of her favorites. You’re bending down in front of the small fridge, your ass comes into view on the screen, fabric tight around your flesh, thighs pressed together, fuck, she wants to shove her dick in there so badly. Your hips slightly sway, lost in one of those bubble pop songs you love so much. Jinx fantasized far too many times about taking you right there, kicking your legs open and pushing herself deep inside you. She’s entranced by the sight, low lidded eyes staring at the pixels with need and hunger. Her jaw relaxes, hypnotized from the screen, she drools on her own shirt, rubbing her shaft in slow strokes, building up the pleasure, taking things gently. Like she would with you. Harshly at first, get you all jumpy and scared, then mellowed out, exhausted and fucked out. Her closed fist shakes, she imagines what you’d feel like around her. The perfect fit, maybe a bit too tight, making both you and her gasp; your eyes turning to her as she pushes more of herself inside you.
Jinx sucks in her stomach, holding a breath, trembling fingers gripping on herself, she slides down slowly and back up, hold…back down. She doesn’t want to ruin it. Pixel you turn around and jump, hitting your head on the top of the fridge. Jinx is moaning again, hips pushing upwards, the soles of her feet planting on the mattress as she flicks her wrist in quick motions. Muffled whines break the heavy silence, staring into your eyes through the phone.
“Jinx!”
Thick globs of cum shoots from her cock, her eyes close, engraving that image of you, skin slapping against her palm, going soft by the seconds, but she pushes and push, until it becomes borderline painful. She bites down harder on the shirt, teeth grinding, her chest heaves, her body falls back onto the mattress. Jinx keeps her eyes closed, grasping onto the vision, your screams turning into moans, pleasure mixing in with fear, shaking against her from too much at once.
She lay limp in the bed, the post nut clarity starting to hit her. Jinx is not one to feel shameful, the fantasy follows her, now you’re holding her, still trembling, softened, tired, just as she is right now. Her hand opens in a sharp, mechanic movement from staying too long in the same position. She looks down at the mess she’s made with drowsy eyes. Her phone lights her side, screen frozen in a still of your face. She grabs a tissue and wipes the soft member resting on her thigh.
As stealthy as she was, Jinx definitely gave herself more credit than she’s due. The girl wasn’t subtle. You could feel the bulge pressing halfway on your butt. The dilation of her pupils when she meets your scared eyes and the feral smile that stretched across her face. You caught on the way she’d try to fix her pants discreetly when you flinched at random noises. Jinx likes fear, or maybe just your fear.
Her reactions to yours were nothing short of addictive. For someone usually so guarded, the bluenette felt safe enough around you to exist in her own fantasies. Your eyes dragging on her figure were simply because you were wary, she thought. A poor attempt at trying to prepare yourself for the next prank. Jinx didn’t notice how you swiftly checked her crotch when she sat down, nor the way you’d arched just a bit closer when she slid behind you. She was teasing and didn’t even know it. So, you decided to take a page from her book. And started scheming.
“Hey Jinx? You want to watch a movie tonight?”
She doesn’t miss the slight ominousness in your voice, interest pricks at her eyebrows. You wait a few seconds; one, two, three, four-
“Dibs on the first one.”
You both smile at each other.
She’s going for a horror movie, full of jump scares and gore. One that will have you leap off the couch.
You bet she’ll pick something scary. One that will get her dick hard right next to you.
You sit on the couch, grabbing the bucket full of popcorn, and let her pick the movie. Jinx pretends to read the synopsis; horror, no surprise.
Of course, it’s no fun if the lights are on. You’re immersed in semi darkness with the grim title card on the screen. You glance at your roommate; she meets you halfway with a grin and an eyebrow raise. “Scared already?”,her gaze seems to say, but you smile back innocently.
You have to give it up to Jinx, she knows movies just as well as she knows you by now. The scares aren’t stereotypical, they’re on the quiet side, relying on you being attentive and paranoid. The infrasound is a constant rumble, permeating the tension. Heartbeat steadily fast like wings flapping, anticipation rises in you, both from the screen and the girl sitting next to you. The knowledge of her growing arousal next to you sends rushes of warmth to your lower belly. You give a small look towards Jinx, specifically at the comfy dark sweatpants she’s wearing. Slightly large around her thin waist and failing just right on the round plushness of her hips. She’s manspreading, as usual, the fabric tenting right above her stomach creating a little space between her skin and the clothing, perfect spot to slip your hand in. What would she do if you put your hand in right now? If you do right after you jump, when she’s hard. Your mind drifts, what does she look like down there? Pink or purple? Thick or thin and long? How hairy is she? Does she shave or trim? You’ve caught the blue hairy line on her navel once.
When did you become so obsessed with her dick? Her lack of restraint perhaps or that, for once, it felt nice to have something that she couldn’t use against you. The sudden screech of a violin raises your shoulders, head snapping back at the television. Next to you, Jinx shifts, a barely audible sigh coming from her.
The movie progresses, snatching a few winces out of you, Jinx savors each of them. Glances here and there and moments when she plainly stares, waiting for a reaction as you pretend not to notice it. But you’re hyperaware of Jinx, her sighs and held back breaths are like music to your ears. She fixes the band of her sweatpants far too many times.
Towards the end, she’s hugging a pillow, leaning on the opposite side of the couch and you’re rubbing your thighs together, remaining somewhat composed. The soundtrack restarts and you sit in the dark, without a single word.
Usually, Jinx would take it as an opportunity to scare you. You brace yourself for a cold touch that doesn’t come. Instead, you hear her deep breaths that could almost be mistaken for relaxation if you didn’t know better. The credits roll, which you both fake strong interest in. Jinx is abnormally quiet, you want to taunt her more. A wicked smile makes it way over to your lips.
“Can I pick my own now?” You ask her, purposefully making your voice softer.
Jinx hums, not bothering with a verbal answer.
You pretend to search through, like she did earlier.
“Oh, what’s this?” You click on the cover of some all-black picture with a gory silhouette. You can feel the way Jinx straightens next to you.
“You sure?” Her voice is raspier than usual, tainted by the mechanical breaths she tries to pass off as natural.
You roll your eyes, turning to her with a little smile and a shrug of your shoulder.
“I don’t know, what do you think?” Batting your eyelashes at her. “Should I go for something else?” You caress her with your words, tilting your head.
The exaggerated sweetness of your tone doesn’t fool her; her eyes meet yours. Jinx looks puzzled until a slow grin overtakes the bottom of her face, taking your sudden bravery as mean to impress her. She pushes her lower lip, “Go ‘head jumpy, I’ll get my phone ready.”
The most recent horror addition starts with loud music, and you flinch, attention diverting back and forth in rapid successions, the screen, Jinx. Your roommate cackles openly, hiding the flush of her cheeks behind her palm. It’s a shaky bet.
A few minutes into the storytelling, you gaze at her again, Jinx is on her phone, eyes flying up to the television a few times, but mostly to you, she’s surprised to catch you looking.
“Don’t tell me you’ve seen this one too.”
The lazy smirk on her lips is enough of an answer.
“That’s not fair, you can’t get scared from something you already watched.”
“I don’t get scared period.” She brags.
She’s sitting on the opposite side of the couch, back resting on the plush fabric, legs spread and a pillow strategically placed on her crotch. Looking completely unbothered by the gory introduction scene, slightly flushed from her fear fed erection and most of all, deeply oblivious of your own awareness to her little schemes.
You act on impulse, slowly creeping closer to her, pretending to be terrified. Jinx tense, groans held in the back of her throat every time you lean on her. The sight is one to revel in. She breathes heavy next to you, a bit jerky. As you witness her state, you start to understand how she got addicted to scaring you in the first place.
The movie reaches a peak nearing the end and you’ve fully leaned on Jinx’s side, letting yourself get immersed in the story enough to flinch. She’s completely still, there’s a permanent frown on her face, nose scrunched in restraint. Her knuckles have whitened around the cushion from how hard she’s clutching it. Gosh, you’re killing her. Her dick is going to explode if she stays there any longer; you’re so close, jittering on her. She can’t even stand up lest she wants you to face the very apparent effect your fear has on her.
“Jinx?” Your ever sweet voice interrupts her pained contemplation, she’s not even watching the movie anymore, way too conscious of you instead.
“What?” She immediately regrets the harshness that seeped into her tone when your eyebrows lift up with fake innocence. As much as she likes you scared, she doesn’t want you sad. “Yes, what?” She repeats, softer.
You smile, tilting your head to her shoulder. You really are a total sweetheart, patient, even through her bullshit. If you weren’t such a turn on for her, she’d maybe calm down on the pranks.
“Are you hard right now?”
Huh?
Her train of thoughts is interrupted when she turns to you. Sweet? Looking, soft as ever you. And…
“Must be so painful for you by now.” You smile. “Unless…you already came in your pants?”
She looks at you with disbelief, showing more of the white around her irises. Is she hallucinating? You shift closer, pushing out a breath from her lips. The soft smile clashes against the lust in your eyes. Her thighs jerk when your palms gently slide over her knees, warmth seeping through her already burning lower half. Nope; very real.
“You always have your fun with me, mocking me, scaring me on purpose. Whole time, it was for your little dick fest…”
Jinx chuckles breathily. “Yeah. Your cute face is hot when scared, so what?” Not letting you enjoy the full scope of her shock.
She quips back, her tone shaky from the strong mix of contradictions.
Your hands slide higher up her thighs and under the pillow she’s fiercely holding, eclipsing the remnants of surprise she has left. Jinx hisses, clutching the fabric at the need, you look up at her. She could cum just from that sight. She realizes where the odd sweetness came from. The reason why you didn’t complain when she put on a horror movie. Jinx lets out a frenzied laugh; you’re exactly like her, maybe you’ve been arousing her all this time on purpose, you minx.
“What are you gonna do about it?” She pants, her figure following yours.
“Hmm...I have a few ideas.”
“Put something on.” Jinx eagerly utters.
Your hands come to a halt, fingers halfway under the elastic of her pants, pressed against her stomach. It trembles under her chuckles.
“You want my dick? Put some scary shit on.”
She looks at you with a smile. Your eyes drift down again, the pillow now askew, you see the bulge underneath it raising the fabric, you swallow the saliva that has pooled into your mouth, throat dry in anticipation. Annoyance sparks in you; seriously? She licks her lips and nods. Your shaky hand picks the remote, “Which one?”
“Whichever you want.” She purrs.
As if you had a choice in the matter. You do, but also, fuck her for that. You pick a random one, amongst the firsts that pop up.
“Happy now?”
She juts her head towards the movie, inciting you to watch it. You oblige, the desire coursing through your veins making you obedient even to the silliest requests. Jinx comes closer, her arms encircle you, the cold making you flinch and look for her, vision altered by the darkness surrounding you. When you try to face her, she puts a hand under your chin, turning you back to the TV.
“Nuh-huh, I want you to watch.” She breathes on your nape “Look at it.”
There’s a woman on the screen, walking through a dark forest looking disoriented and covered in blood. You hear shuffling behind you, shaky breaths. It’s cruel of her, but you force yourself to watch, keeping your eyes on the screen, only catching glimpses of Jinx in your peripheral.
The bluenette lays you down, and you let her, she slides her cushion under your hips and grasp at your shorts. You look a second time and she stops.
“Come on sweet girl, don’t make us wait.”
You whine impatiently, facing that boring scene again.
The bluenette grins at your irritation, your eagerness feeding hers. She pulls your shorts down very slowly, cackling at the frustrated raise of your hips to facilitate the task. Once the clothes hit the floor, she swallows thickly, peering down between your legs, voracious eyes gobbling up the sight.
Jinx holds the back of your knees and rests them on her toned thighs, spreading your legs. Your arousal glistens in the low light, making her mouth water. She folds her pointer, sliding her knuckle between your labia, you shudder and look at her, she smiles. You’re drenched, leaving wetness on her finger. She uses her middle finger pointer to spread you apart, the small strings of slick separates, she licks her lips to keep the drool from rising. Her thumb teases your clit, watching your reactions, your eyes are not on her, obediently watching the movie, but your face is so expressive, eyebrows furrowed, nostrils flaring and lips parted for the barely audible whimpers. Pretty. Jinx slowly turns her hand, reaching deeper inside you, soft flesh constricting and swallowing her fingers with ease. You’re so warm, the moan rise in her throat at the contact, almost folding over. You’re going to kill her. She’s not going to last long she can already tell. She makes gentle pumping motions, prepping you for her, small whines leave her lips, eyes traveling between your pussy and your face, not knowing which one to focus on.
A few minutes later and Jinx can’t resist it any longer, she licks her fingers clean and lowers her sweatpants and her underwear with it, her dick spring out cartoonishly, swollen and angry red tip almost hitting her belly button. She spits on her palm and strokes herself with her wet hand, directing it at your cunt.
Her tip rubs your clit in soft, quick moves, rushing moans out of you both, you stare at the screen with wide eyes, not wanting her to stop.
“Keep watching,” she orders you, sliding her dick lower. She looks at the screen; a familiar character popping up, she’s seen this one as well. The bluenette ceases her movements, she waits, her tip just nudging your entrance. It’s quiet again. Apprehension builds and the screen darkens, Jinx holds her breath, looking at you.
“Jinx, what are you-Angh!”
She rams into you at the same time the music picks up. You flinch and she moans in return. Jinx freeze. Her head bobs down at the sight of your overfilled cunt, a raspy curse leave her lips. Nails dig into the fat of your hips as she slides out and back in again. She shivers at the sheer sensation of you around her.
Then, Jinx keeps going, quick snaps of her hips meeting yours, head thrown back in a loud whine when you clench around her. She fits snugly, your body accommodating to her girth, sucking her greedily. A sudden appearance on the screen shakes your shoulders once more and she feels you clenching again, nearly leaving her winded. The rough and fast rhythm knocks the wind out of you, sharp inhales taken after each of her thrusts, the screen in front of you displays a chase scene, adrenaline rising both in you and the fictional character. Jinx fills you up completely, almost too much, the tender skin between your thighs stretching just for her as she pushes harshly and voraciously for more of your cunt. Her left hand holds your hip while the other is spread on your stomach, feeling each thrust under your skin. Jinx is greedy, pressing the furthest she can inside you like she wants you to swallow her whole.
Jinx keeps her eyes on your body, splayed for her own pleasure; tits bouncing and chest shaking from the quickness of her actions. She bites down on her lip to hear you. Her eyes are glued to you, to the way you look to her and the television in small frantic looks, your sexed agog gaze pulls a low noise from her throat
She grabs your hips, tilting them higher, closer to her own. You scream when she suddenly reaches deeper, hitting the spongy spot inside of you, tensing your legs on each side of her waist, toes digging in the arm of the couch.
“Oh my g-ugh! Jinx, Jinx!”
That’s it, her favorite sound. She loves when you scream her name like this, your voice high from sensory overload. When you’re losing your mind, all because of her.
“Yeah? Here?” She insists, sending a particularly rough thrust, keeping you almost flush against her.
Jinx drills into you, animalistic groans leaving her lips as she feels herself growing closer to her peak. Lithe arm wraps around you waist, nimble fingers reaching down; her pointer rubbing at your clit in quick, clumsy movements. You cry out, body arching in overstimulation. Jinx lowers herself towards you, grabbing your cheeks and making you face her.
“Let me see, lemme see it.” She pants on your face.
Her face is slightly blurry despite the closeness, her eyes glow in the sterile lighting of the movie. She smiles against your face, the tip of her nose hitting yours.
“Like tha-t, k-keep looking at me.”
That look in your eyes, wide and hyper focused, entrancing just like fear, maybe even more appetizing… her stomach tenses, her hips lock, trembling knees dig into the plush surface.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She whines, small girlish whimpers leave her lips as she tries to hold in the orgasm.
She doesn’t cease her movements on your clit, her touch electric. Her body clings to yours, weak pumping motions as she attempts to keep going through her climax, moving back just as she feels herself about to cum, the sudden glint of clarity in her eyes.
“K-Keep goin-” You tell her.
Another tap to your bundle of nerves, you moan legs locking around her hips. Jinx lets out something akin to a cry as she pushes further, grasping onto the high for as long as she can. The orgasm hits all your senses at once, blinding white, you don’t hear yourself, but she does, and it’s the last push she needs. Jinx lets out a choked moan, shaky fingers replaced by the palm of your hand as she press against your clit.
“Fuck, I love that face, I love y-ugh!”
She holds you flush to her, emptying herself inside of you in burning spurts filling you to the brim.
The small window next to the television is open, letting in the fresh air and the faraway sounds of the city. The television screen displays an old episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark?
Jinx drags her nose between your shoulder blades releasing a weight sigh. Her hand resting on your abdomen stiffens every few seconds, her skin sticks to yours, exhaling loudly.
The bottle of water she gave you now is half full on the table, an opened pack of saltines and jam pot abandoned on the coffee table.
Jinx shifts behind you, her gesticulation is maddening against your sensitive lower half.
“Stop moving.” You whine tiredly.
“C-can’t, it’s too tight in there.”
“Then pull ou-”; “No.” She voices firmly.
You roll your eyes with fondness and exasperation.
The comfortable silence is broken by the ringing sound of an ambulance driving by your building. You shiver in her arms, jerkily rising up. Force of habit. Jinx giggles behind you, patting your stomach affectionately.
“Just a siren, jumpy.”
A few seconds later, you feel her harden inside of you, hipbones pushing on your butt doing a small forward movement automatically. Her hand glides down, hooking around your thigh.
“Wanna go again?”
[jumpy gals arise, I feel like a fainting goat sometimes.]
[I wanted to do a fully clueless reader at first but I’m too much of a freak to not play with the reversals.]
CW: 2.5 k words. modern setting, dom!Jinx x submissive!reader, mean and possessive Jinx, controlling behaviors, fake blood, mentions of alcohol, strap usage, fingering (reader receiving) and scissoring, “im-not-like-other-girls” is strong in this one.
Men and minors do not interact!
📽 [The new sensation, Jinx, a misunderstood genius or another callous nepo baby?], she read in the ArtChicks column of growl magazine. The bluenette simply rolled her eyes and discarded magazine on the floor with the same care she’d give to a dirty tissue. “Let’s get back to work, I want everyone to shut the fuck up and act.”
📽 Jinx doesn’t believe herself to be difficult, despite what the actors, the designers, the stylists, the makeup artists, the engineers, the animators, the composers, the entirety of the film crew and whoever else might say. She simply knows what she wants and how she wants it. And how to execute it. No matter how many scenes it takes.
📽 Jinx keeps her public appearance scarce both to hold the mystique and her general distaste for the niceties.
📽 She presents all the attributes of a genius. Enough to intimidate people into quietness and trust her vision. Her sheer confidence and competence allowed her to escape many of the ‘nepo baby’ pre-conceived judgements.
📽 Despite Silco being a big shark in the industry, Jinx has made a name for herself as a niche, underground filmmaker. She specializes in psychosexual thrillers and horror erotica and loves special effects. Her subversive style is often studied in art school; her main audience are the film and psych students, along with the cinephiles who claim to ‘know’ the Oscars are rigged, otherwise she would’ve already won a few.
📽 She didn’t expect one of her old college projects to go viral on TikTok; bursting her underground bubble. She was pushed to the surface and exposed to the mainstream. And ever since, it’s been utter chaos. Not the good kind. Her social medias are flooded with parasocial fans and fake deep ‘analysts’. Fucking posers, as she calls them. She prefers belonging to the obscure, being hidden, only to the exclusives that were attracted to her vision from the beginning. If she sees another “why she kinda” about herself, she might pop a blood vessel.
📽 Her difficult personality has somehow made her very likeable to a small group of people online who look up to her like she’s God. It’s both flattering and extremely annoying. “I support women’s rights and women’s wrongs”, what a fucking joke. She’s an artist, not a criminal.
📽 All that attention led her to lock herself away in her Zaun penthouse and disappear from the public eye for a few months.
📽She came back with a new project. It was bold, avant-garde and most certainly not a crowd pleaser. She made sure of it, obsessively working on her manuscript till she started losing grip on reality. The public loves her? Let’s see how much.
📽 The open casting room is full to the brim. Jinx always favored the hidden, unknown talents rather than the big names. But now, she feels nauseous with boredom as her gaze lands on the line of identical looking actresses. Her newfound popularity gathered a much bigger group than usual. The typical accent of the big city, the performative outfits and the god-awful honeyed to the point of choking praise for her movies. “I’d like to say, I am a big fan of your work.”; “I’ve never seen anything like it before, you’re a true visionary.” Jinx stands up mid-audition after yet another compliment for her ‘raw vision”.
“I need a break.” She throws at her assistant. “Get the bootlickers some water.”
📽 The sun is setting under the thick polluted clouds of the Undercity, exposing it’s ragged skyline. Most of the actors are gone by now, Jinx chased them away. She’s sprawled on her seat, phone in hand, barely paying attention to the poor girl auditioning. The filmmaker sighs loudly when she lets out an umpteenth stutter.
📽 That’s when you come in, right after Jinx started to give up. An aspiring actress, clumsy and a bit too intense. You’ve watched her movies; she can tell by the movements of your chest, the way you purposefully keep yourself breathless, like she does with her leads. It intrigues her. Her phone stayed on her lap the whole audition as she remained completely still in a leaned position, glaring at you with disbelief.
📽You were perfect. An exact rendition of the sight her critical mind conjured for the movie. Not so difficult anymore, she wanted to throw at their faces; not when you existed.
📽 You’re passionate, she can respect that. Your lack of experience somehow did not bother her; you followed directions well. Things felt surreal. Especially because it wasn’t just a movie, it was a comeback, a cleansing of the usual and a return to the strangeness. And you fell right in her lap when she needed it the most, call it fate.
📽 When she’s not knee deep in her script, her eyes follow your silhouette, almost to make sure that you won’t disappear. That she indeed did not lose her mind in that casting and imagined you in desperation. All flesh and bones.
“No, bend a little more, more, yeah…just like that.” She sounds breathless behind the heavy machinery, almost whispering to you into the mic. Her eyes are transfixed on your figure, on the arch of your spine, the subtle goosebumps on your skin; she keeps it freezing in the studio for this very reason. Just a bit of method acting on your part.
“More blood, someone gets more blood.” She interrupts her musing, her voice back to the usual monotone rasp. She checks the first camera. An assistant is pouring fake blood over you. “Not her whole face, Chuck, no! You-…fucking move.”
📽 The bluenette walks over your bent silhouette, you look up at her, she stares at your soaked body, clothes sticking to your skin as if you’ve been dipped in crimson. You’re quiet, you don’t smile either, still in character. She likes that. She plunges her fingers into the bucket of fake blood and cringes at how watery it feels. “Put more glycerin, we’re not on a budget.”
📽 Cold digits press down on the hollow of your throat. Her touch isn’t harsh and yet you can’t breathe, chest constricting and back trembling as she goes up, sliding under your chin. Her thumb swipes over your mouth. Her stare, ever so demanding, flit up to yours, squinting. There’s noticeable pressure on your lower lip. Is she gazing at you or the character? Your eyes remain wide open in shell shock, nostrils flaring like an animal about to pounce. Something like approval shines in her blue orbs. Jinx stands back up. “Good, back to it.”
📽 Jinx observed your interactions with the crew. You unsurprisingly got along with most of them, they’re not that hard to please, compared to her. There’s still blood on your neck, the dirty set clothes hugging your frame, your hair is still messy. Yet, here you are, talking to the others like you’re regular, like you’re not her creation, as if she didn’t build you up as the monster of her craft and she’s now watching the plaster break off to show humanity.
📽 Jinx on set is an absolute nightmare to all but you. She barks orders, loses her patience fast and becomes colder the more scenes they have to retake. Jinx is precise about the poses you have to stay in, the sounds that leave your mouth, no shrilling “relax your neck, hold your breath for ten and redo it.”
📽 Her cold hands have pushed, prodded and molded your figure into every scene, then relishes in the way you give it life. “Good, you’re doing good.” She murmurs next to your ear, guiding the prosthetic arm next to yours.
📽 It’s not so late anymore, but very early when she finally signals to her crew to take a break. There’s a collective sigh before everyone starts packing their things. The last scene wasn’t perfect, and her jaw hasn’t stopped ticking since she reviewed it, but she knows her team. The more tired they are, the sloppier they become. You stand in the middle of the set, very still. Jinx alike, behind the camera. She stares at you from the viewfinder until you meet her through the lenses. Your smile took her off guard; “Can we retake this scene just one last time?” Her heart quickened, slight goosebumps pricked at her nape. Jinx didn’t answer, pushing down on the record button with trembling fingers. She didn’t expect anything less from you.
📽 She doesn’t get involved with people. It’s too messy, annoying, they get attached and she doesn’t like clingers. “Messy as hell…” She mumbles to herself as purple stilettos nails type away on the phone screen.
To eꓘk0: [need a nda asap, x], she sends it without a second thought, eyes returning to you.
📽 It was a simple contract, in theory. A basic non-disclosure agreement that allowed you both to fuck without making a big deal out of it and keep it quiet. She handed it to you with a pen, watching the swift movement as you signed. She didn’t say anything, but perhaps she should’ve after seeing the way you skimmed the document. Because if you did, you’d see that it made you exclusive, hers.
📽 Sure, it was hypocritical for someone who claims to not get attached, and totally unfair on your end, but she couldn’t care less. Jinx doesn’t share.
📽 The pen has barely lifted off the paper that she grabs it from your hands to shove it in her purse. She juts her chin to the side. “Let’s get a drink.”
📽 The night ended with urgent hands over your body and her breathing mingling with yours. The small buzz of alcohol was nothing compared to her. Jinx fucks like she does her movies, with passion and preciseness. She maps out your sensitive spots as her plot points and uses them to replay the pleasure over and over.
📽 When the movie was released, it’s success was unprecedented. Her father even called. The self-proclaimed weirdos loved it, the film bros called genius once again, and regular people were conflicted. Most wanted to like it, others made clumsy attempts of scene reading and very few spammed hate videos about Jinx’s “dubious morals”. The ratings were very unstable. Her equilibrium was mostly restored.
📽 It only made her curious fanbase grow, now prodding for more details about the director herself, her craft second. Ekko had to convince her not to delete her socials out of frustration.
📽 Snippets of you two were taken from interviews, moments when Jinx could be seen grinning or leaning closer to you, despite being known to hate familiarities.
📽 Side by side pictures of you and Jinx wearing the same shirts days apart have been put in compilations. Then, it escalated to the subtle matching details of your outfits on red carpets.
📽 As time went on, Jinx became less and less subtle, glaring at the paparazzi that’d drag you away from her, interrupting her conversations to check on you. The internet was buzzing: “are they dating?”, “is jinx the possessive kind?” “OMG she totally issss!”, “i bet theyre fuking"
📽 She walks in your shared hotel room to get a look at you before an event. “That’s what they put you in?” She circles you and clacks her tongue. “Garish.” Her nails drag on your shoulder, snagging the fabric. “Cheap.” You feel her breath on your nape. “I’m not having you representing my work in that. You’re changing.” You hear the tapping of her nails. “And that stylist is fired.”
📽 She watched her stylist change you into something else, “better”, she said after picking out the dress.
📽 Once her makeup is finished, she turns to you, analyzing your face. “More on the eyes, less on the lips.” She ordered the makeup artist.
📽 Being Jinx’s muse is a full-time job. She sends you text messages at the first hour of the morning, ordering you to record yourself reading a part of a new script she’s working on; then it’s a picture of you sprawled on your bed with a dildo and fake barbed wires. You never know if it’s for a project or her personal pleasure.
📽You would soon have to move to her penthouse; she can’t have her muse away from her when she has sudden bursts of inspiration at 4 AM.
📽 The place reflected her perfectly, large open spaces with urban furniture, dark color scheme clashing with pops of color tastefully spread out. The walls are bare but decorated with neon lights, the floor is used like an equipment, with lines of old manuscripts dispersed to be looked at, picked up again, pile of books in each corner of the rooms and small lamps of different textures and colors.
📽Her living room has been turned into her second personal studio, with cameras and props, it reminds her of her college days. Her experiments often turn sexual; you can only be semi naked with a knife in your hand and fake blood for so long. And before you realize, she already has your knees folded upwards, pushing in a strap thick enough to make you gasp, “relax.” She breathlessly commands, “like we practiced, come on.” Her craft truly never leaves her.
📽 Other times she pushes her fingers deep inside of you, usually when you finish a scene just right and you face her, still in character. She’s grown to love the way you went back to your usual self, her own character just for her, and then the real you, all for her as well. You make the most beautiful sounds; she’d get you to record them for her someday.
📽Her studio is her second favorite place after the confines of her apartment. During the late, empty hours of the night, when the crew has gone and you’re left alone, your leg hooked onto her hip as she sits on your thigh, lazily riding out the arousal, exhausted by her day. She looks down at your body drenched in sticky carmine, staining hers as well, knowing she went overboard again.
📽 You get to witness her rare soft side. As she’s lying next to you in the bed of a luxurious hotel room; empty takeout boxes and clothes scattered on the floor. Her hair is slightly wet from your shared bath, face bare and softer without the grunge makeup. She noses at your shoulder, sleepy eyes struggling to remain open “M’doing this thing in Bilgewater, in two weeks. I’ll buy you a swimsuit.”
[the interviews are giving cynthia and ari…jk]
[Got on that small writing because the big one is oogly asf with hcs good god]
jinx who offers to eat you out on your period.. you lie in bed together as she suggests it, rolled up in blankets with your hot water bottle firm against your lower stomach, once she outright asks: “want me to eat you out?” you initially press your face firmer against the blankets with a grimace, telling her not to be gross. she begins to explain with a smile that she’s: “not making it up.” and “apparently it helps with the tension or whatever.” you stay silent for a few moments before sighing, squeezing your eyes shut, pulling the hot water bottle further against you. “jinx, it’ll be way too messy.” you state, furrowing your brows in annoyance as she replies: “but you want to?” she kisses your cheek with a smile before making her way down the bed towards your thighs, failing to hide her glee and excitement as you roll your eyes, opening your legs for her.
[In which your new college friend drags you into a cult]
CW: 2.6k words. Cultish themes, indoctrination, lack of boundaries, emotional dependency, worshipping, weird blurry sex at the end. [cult presence but mainly Powder shaped adoration].
Men and minors do not interact!
She approached you during the third week of the semester. The floor had become crunchy with dead leaves, the sky a deep graphite. Night classes were not ideal, but they fit your schedule. You briefly recalled her. Blue hair and blue eyes, noticeable in every room she walked in. She glowed with color under the warm light, doused in softness and good intentions, clashing against the grey of it all. The sweetness of her tone and the consideration in her eyes stopped you, made you listen. Powder. She nodded, sweet and endearingly shy grin pulling at her lips, a bit hesitant, looking out for your reaction. It suited her. She was delighted to hear it. “I really liked your analysis in class today.”
Her eyes would find yours in classrooms, kind smile like muscle memory; the act so genuine each time that it gave you butterflies. The usual reticence that comes with meeting new people was hard to maintain with her. So hard when she notices your absence in class and passes you her notes without hesitation. “Did you get the last exercise? We can meet up after class to work on it.” Study meet-ups, exchanging books to phone numbers. How does one make friends if not this naturally? That’s what it felt like talking with her. She made cliché feel organic. Powder didn’t force you out of your comfort zone. Instead, she leaned into it, burying herself into your space and your identity until there was no air left for you to differentiate.
Her quick vulnerability and openness should have made you question things more, but how could you? She was the sweetest thing you’ve ever met. So perceptive and attuned to you. If your judgment wasn’t already clouded, you’d have seen that it was not regular. That the glimmer of interest in her eyes wasn’t fully innocent. That perhaps her liking to you was tied to something grander, something that went beyond you and her.
“I know we met not that long ago, but I really like you.” She admitted one night; a lilting melody to her voice. “It’s the first time I get along with someone like this.”
And you answered that it was the same for you. Of course, it was. How else would you explain the subtle mirroring, the similarities, the coddling affection that pushed you deeper into her grasp. The webs of her embrace brought you closer and closer, coiling around your mind, locking you in with shared warmth and whispered compliments.
Powder was a really busy bee outside of class, mainly devoted to niche hobbies as she referred to them often.
“It’s more of a fun activity, really. You should join me; we’d love to have a new brain on the team.”
“I promise it’s not a cult.” She joked. “We just like to have fun and gain extra credits.”
Not a cult, she said. But when you followed her that night, you couldn’t help but think otherwise. The room that felt too large for the small herd of students it carried; completely bare aside from a small stage and elegant chairs sorted in a circle. They welcomed you with a familiarity you didn’t expect. Their eyes followed you across the room, painted lips moving quickly to usher words, spreading into smiles when you faced them. And by the end of the night, you felt winded from being the object of such attention and scrutiny. Powder was quick to reassure you, hooking her arm under yours.
“They kept talking about how good your ideas were. Can you believe it? I told you, you were good, you should come back every once and a while.”
She’d nudge you when she says it, a small grin and a gaze glittering with hope. You’d soon figure out that you couldn’t tell her no.
She insisted on you coming back with her a second time. That it was totally fine if you didn’t, but she shared so much with you, gave so much to you, it was difficult to refuse. Especially when she looked at you with such unconcealed fondness.
“See? I say it all the time, you’re talented. You’re amazing.”
Amazing? “I wouldn’t say-,” “but you are. Can’t you see it? Did you see how the others looked at you? How I look at you?”
The last sentence made you pause, because, yes, you had noticed. The deep color of her irises glowing like precious stones, tilted up at you from the stage.
“It’s a shame you don’t see how special you are.” She’d murmur on the phone, next to you on the bench, holding your hand, during sleepovers, whispered like a secret that she held close to her heart.
“Here, I made this one for you.” A delicate chain handmade one link at a time holding a stone which was glowing abnormally, a deep luminous blue, like her eyes, like her hair, like the one on her wrist. “That way you keep me with you.” Your eyes would trail over the pearl when she wasn’t there, looking deep into its glass-like quality as if she’d somehow look back at you through it as well.
“But she totally thinks you got it, honestly, me and the girls love your input, the teacher too.” She explains, pushing the hair away from your face, lipstick tube in the other hand. “And I’m like, of course she is, you wouldn’t be there if not.”
“Isn’t it favoritism?”
Powder freeze, lipstick stilling on your lower lip. She blinks, slight panic pricks at your nape. Did you say something wrong?
“She did mention the club at the beginning of the year, everyone is free to join, but it’s hard to keep up with the workload.”
Did she? Yes, did you forget? Are you okay? You seem a bit confused.
You assure her that you’re okay, waiting for the abnormal amount of concern in her eyes to vanish. They turn cloudy when she does, tarnishing the usually bright color you cherish so much.
“Is there something wrong?”
Her voice is slightly shaky, confused, lost, you do know you’re special, right? Different. That’s why you’re here, why you’re friends, it doesn’t make sense otherwise. Please, tell her you know that. You shake your head, but Powder doesn’t relent. She pries you open with soft praises and unconcealed, deep worry for her doubtful friend.
“I am worried about you.” She admits, not meeting your gaze. Your own lowers to the blue stone, resting snugly along the veins on the inside of your wrist. A noticeable pressure.
You twist it back around.
“Why? I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
She doesn’t answer. Her eyes are wide open, pupils blown, covering more of the blue, she is still enough to scare you into admitting.
“I…feel a bit out of place in there sometimes.”
Her expression falters, eyebrows dropping and face tilting. Her entire body relaxes from the tension she’s accumulated with that simple interaction and as if your response offered her the ultimate relief.
“I understand. I used to feel like that as well.”
Did she? Or does she take pity on you?
“But you shouldn’t worry, you’re amazing, talented, everyone there adores you.”
The word choice left a weird taste in your mouth, but you didn’t want to correct her. Powder’s kindness might hinder her judgement you think; she might just believe everyone sees you the way she does.
The other members were kind, welcoming, showering you in praises that felt too eager to be natural. Your eyes would turn to hers, searching for her loving, reassuring gaze. Powder would nod, leaning towards you, and encourage you to keep going, keep talking, keep opening up. Open up and feed them, give them more of who you are.
Slowly, your other friends started to distance themselves from you. You barely noticed it, wrapped in your new, cocooned life. Sometimes you’d catch their curious looks, questions that would die at the tips of their tongues when a familiar presence slid next to you. “There you are.” You missed the way her eyes followed the figures walking away.
Her influence seeped deeper into your being through schoolbooks and night classes, late mornings spent in a shared bed, deep discussions around the different topics the professor inclined you to study. She never allowed you the wistfulness of being alone.
“They can’t understand that you’re changing, you’re evolving it’s a part of life.” She’d console you, rubbing your back. “They were lacking vision, but the professor sees you, I see you too, we all do.” Her eyes glow like the stone on your wrist, palms on your cheeks, holding you like you’re the most precious manuscript at the library.
Powder was right, this club was not meant for everyone. You were amongst the few that could make it, with Powder. The professor held deep respect for you all, making pride inflate in your chest. She sat next to you obviously, gazing at you with tenderness each time you gave your opinion. “You’re right. So right. That’s totally it! How did I not see this angle before?”
“Have you thought of joining us for the long term? Your ideas are fresh. We need more of those for our research.”
Right, the research, yours too now, you suppose. An important one. Understanding human nature on a deeper level, rising above the horrors of the specie. Something of the sort. So full of detailed explanations yet a blurry end goal. It was important regardless. You see it in her, in them. A mission. Something you and Powder were in charge of.
“You have your place here with us, with me. We could always be together that way.”
Always? The absolutism of her proposal did not escape you. The gleam in her eyes whispered that she knew it too, that it was intentional. Always with you was easy to her, evident. Should’ve scared you away. She smoothened the frown on your brows, and wrapped a careful, subtly distant arm around your shoulders.
“I’ll let you think about it.”
Is she pulling away from you? Your eyes search hers; she holds it for one, two, three.
“Wait-“ Your weak hold grabs her attention again.
“It’s okay.” She ushers you. “I know you need time to think. “
You feel cold. Her resting smiling face is now simply looking, devoid of her specialty for you. And your response is confused devotion, words pushing past your lips with difficulty, body resisting in a last effort of reason while your mind screams her name. A part of you is worried, would be scared even, if you were to dig deeper in the eeriness of her behavior. However, the more dominant, carved, new version of yourself begged for her approval, her praise, her love.
“No., I’m sure. I want to be together forever.”
You swallow the lump of embarrassment, feeling it goes down your throat; it leaves a fire that spreads through your nape and your face. It’s visible. The desperation for her utmost attention that you’ve grown accustomed to like small dosage of poison, numbing to everything that is not her. You’d have crumbled under the mortification if it weren’t for the way she beamed, properly glowing again now. Her light attracts you to her, like a moth to a flame.
Powder has become a constant in your life, color in your routine, immersing herself in it and carving it as her own. Ours, she so gently corrected you. Right, you shared the routine now. Your life here as hers, hers as yours. Her dorm room is filled with books of your shared classes, blanket in your preferred color, your favorite snacks on the tray next to her bed, the matching stuffed animal, pictures of you both like a shrine above her desk next to her other family members, like you belonged there, too.
“We can share it if you’d like, it would be better for work.” She told you once. “The professor could arrange that for us.”
The mandatory seconds it took you to think made her face fall, blue eyes dropping onto the mattress.
“Only if you want to of course…”
You shook your head. You want to, I do, I do. “Really? I don’t want to force you, I-”, “I’d love to Pow.”
It wasn’t uncommon for you to sleep in her bed. She wouldn’t insist, but simply looked at you late at night, shifting towards the wall. During those moments, she’d whisper in your ear things that never made sense above the thick fog of drowsiness. You hum, absent from her speaking but rooted in her presence.
“I love having you here, we love having you here. Please, stay.”
Days went by in a blur, you, Powder, the girls, it was all there was. The rest didn’t matter, all morphing into an amalgam of “other”. Other from you and the girls, other from Powder, the Professor and your Study.
“Should we-”
“Yes. For the research.”
“Our research.”
Our. That feels nice. Yes, our; you nodded. She smiled, planting a soft peck on your lips, making your heart float in your trembling ribcage for a moment. Your eyelashes flutter as butterfly wings, dazed smile on your lips. Her deep blues gaze into yours, priceless. You fall right into them, no resistance, their largeness encasing you whole.
How did you manage before meeting Powder? Before joining the club? It feels laughable, your old self. No blue brightening your life, no system foundation to question. Or witnessing the rising sun in a small bed filled with notes and books the sizes of grimoires. You were lost. Drowning in a sea of grey, she pulled you out and into the sky. “We were all lost before we found each other.” Powder confirms. You and Her were one of the same, she murmurs often.
And on late nights, when time stops feeling real, she’d lean into you, closer and closer and closer. Powder says she’s grateful to have met you, always grateful, always so grateful for everything but for you especially. Books lay open on the floor next to pens with no caps and discarded inked paper. It often starts the same way, hands sliding across yours perfectly, matching nail polish, then she kisses you, once, twice, sometimes you kiss her, sometimes you both reach for each other at the same time. Powder trembles above you, the need pulses under her skin, you see it in the blue of her veins, the blue of her eyes. The blue also seeps under your clothes, rushed, apologetically soft when she pulls too hard.
Her skin covers yours as if she’s trying to merge with you, pupils blown peer down, bleeding into your own. She repeats your name over and over like a mantra in a high-pitched breathless prayer and you respond with hers. Her hips press down, legs tangling, nails digging. You don’t know where she begins and you end, her blue reflects into yours, dribbling down and mixing in with your very essence. You both moan each other’s name until it turns into a cathartic mix of syllables. Your mind and body stop being yours and ours instead, pure relief encompasses all and finally, we feel whole.
[the people sneaking into the scientology buildings are giving me life]
[I didn’t forget g!p jinx nor venomized! reader, but they’re longer than I expected so here’s a little thing to enjoy while I finish them]
