What color is Jinx’s bush pls tell me (blue blue blue)
since eyebrows and eyelashes are (technically speaking) similar to pubic hair and jinx’s are dark brown, logistically it would make the most sense if her bush was also brunette. but i’m gonna compromise and say it’s a deep, inky, navy blue.
You mentioned something about this a while ago but I can’t find the post so I’m wondering do you think Jinx’s cum is made of shimmer and ppl can get addicted to her pussy?
her slick is a mixture of cum and trace amounts of shimmer, whereas i believe her squirt is primarily composed of shimmer. jinx’s pussy is an unadulterated, addictive drug :P
+I think she'd be such a brat about it. Chosing to beg for you to fill her up hardly an hour before your spouse is meant to be home. She'd pretend to be in their place if you let her spend the day with you in the shared apartment. Probably using up the last of their both products just to be annoying, or letting them go down the drain out of pure spite. And she'd want you to be caught… I think she'd have slight voyee tendencies. Like leaving her panties (probably more likely to be her hair) on doorknobs or tucking in crevices and a little part of her hopes your partner will find before you do. I think she'd like to wear your clothes but might slip on something of your partner's just to see you startle. And I think at the height of it all, when you're finally caught stuffing her full with her knees to her chest, your partner would come home early and lock eyes with Jinx first through the doorway. And she wouldn't say anything immediately because she gets a little thrill out of them seeing how you fuck when you mean it…
Or something like that gulps…
18+ minors dni.
since you don’t belong to her in any official, notarized capacity, jinx has to assert her claim over you in other ways.
she adorns your body with hickeys, low enough to be concealed under your clothes, but incriminating if your spouse ever caught a glimpse while you were changing; she knocks over the framed photograph of your wedding day, letting it fall behind your dresser, abandoned and forgotten, where it rightfully belongs; later, when she’s on top of you, she slips your spouse’s wedding ring onto her finger, telling you to address her as your wife whilst your cock is bruising her cervix; when she knows you’re with your spouse, she floods your phone with depraved nudes of herself clad in your wife’s panties, asking who you think wore them better. she returns the garments to their dresser a few days later, as the fabric is soiled with streaks and globs of her own cum; should jinx feel ignored or secondary to your spouse, she’ll threaten you with a sulky, petulant pout, “i guess i’ll just have to give your wife a call, fill her in on our relationship. i’m sure she’s curious to know why you’ve been walking funny.”
inevitably, you yield to her salacious demands and the cycle continues. you know shouldn’t reward jinx’s bad behavior, but what else are you supposed to do? she’s possessive, unhinged, volatile. it’s almost like she wants you to get caught.
if it's not too much to ask, can you do headcanons of Jinx touching herself, like, how she does it or her preference. Love ur writinggg 🫶🏻
i think jinx is impulsive—she rushes into it with no teasing or preamble; rubbing her clit in fast, harsh, mean circles. she pays special attention to the crown of her clit where she’s most responsive, until the intense pleasure she’s inflicting on her sensitive cunt sharpens into something painful. it’s way too much, way too fast, but it also hurts just the way she likes.
cw: bottom ellie. top reader. cunnilingus (e!receiving). mild body horror. mild descriptions of blood and injury. 1.1k words. 18+ minors dni.
synopsis: ellie’s immunity has a peculiar side effect, aka vagina dentata. happy kinktober!
ellie is an anomaly of science. she knows that much. often times, she wonders if there’s something rotten woven into the composition of her dna. it isn’t enough that she’s been burdened with immunity—no, the fungus that couldn’t kill her must have learned how to live inside her differently; grew teeth and now resides in the gummy walls of her cunt, right at the opening of her slit like a guard dog.
the solemn thrum of pain began days ago: starting as a persistent pressure that threaded through the canals of her pussy, followed by something prickly and piercing—as if she was slowly, meticulously being carved from the inside out. ellie was none the wiser, attributing the bleeding and slicing agony to her period, until it eventually passed.
now, with you between her legs, slurping on her clit, the memory of the unusual pain she endured is a distant, irrelevant thing. ellie is blatantly needier than usual, blubbering a litany of nonsensical gibberish, which only encourages you to lap at her pussy with further reverence.
“f-fuck, mmghh—you’re so good at that,” she gasps.
you trace her slit, her clit, the folds of her labia, savoring the ambrosial nectar that coats your taste buds. ellie unceremoniously bucks against your face, until you have to anchor the lean curve of her hips to the mattress, delving deeper. your tongue dips inside her entrance, only slightly, but even then you’re able to feel it immediately; something solid, shapely, a bristly scrape against the underside of your tongue.
you pause, pulling back a fraction to glance up at ellie. her lip is caught between her teeth, eyes fluttering, blissfully unaware.
”don’t stop,” she pants, forcing your head deeper between her thighs. “please, i need, ugh—i need more…”
how could you ever refuse her?—especially when she asks so sweetly, when she has such a tenacious, possessive hold on your hair, when her eyes are glossy with need. you descend again, licking her slit, tracing the crevice of her entrance, easing your tongue inside the tight aperture of her cunt, and then you feel it once more; a prickly, jagged edge that catches against the probing muscle of your tongue.
you gasp, pulling away again.
ellie is still on her back, legs drawn up to her chest, sheets tangled around her hips, but the scrunch of pleasure is quickly dissipating from her face, replaced by profound, anxious confusion.
"what?" she breathes, pushing up onto her elbows. "what’s the matter?”
silently, you part her labia with your thumbs, until ellie’s narrow, coin-slot entrance reveals the pink interior of her walls—and that’s when you see it; a congregation of teeth, varying in shapes and sizes, off-white, no different than the set a person would find in their own mouth, except the teeth are there, in the channel of ellie’s pussy.
“what are you doing?” she asks, acutely self-conscious.
“ellie,” is all you can muster in perplexity.
“what?”
“teeth… you have teeth.”
ellie laughs in bewilderment. “huh? what are you talking about?”
instead of repeating something so ludicrous, you show her, firmly pressing your finger against the shapely enamel lining the entrance of her sex. ellie flinches as if you pressed against a ripe bruise.
“did that hurt?” you inquire.
“it’s—tender,” she manages. “what is that?”
“i think we should go to the infirmary.”
“are you messing with me? i’m fine,” ellie insists, reaching a tentative hand between her legs. she presses her own fingers to her entrance, and then she feels it too; the serrated, prickly edge of a tooth. it’s unfathomable but also unmistakable.
with her luck, of course something like this would happen to her of all people. ellie feels responsible in some way, as if she should’ve somehow foreseen this calamity. perhaps if she’d been more careful, less impulsive, less reckless, some of these grotesque twists of fate could have been avoided (such as her immunity, or having teeth take root inside her cunt). now, under your prying eyes, you must see her for what she really is: a mutated monster, an evolutionary afterthought, an aberration—
she’s interrupted from her spiral when you press your finger against the teeth again. predictably, her hips jump, gasping at the paradoxical sensation; a combination of white-hot oversensitivity and an inkling of… pleasure?
“what are you doing?” ellie hisses.
“what do they feel like?” you wonder instead, spreading her thin to study the ring of teeth.
“god, fuck—you’re crazy,” ellie whimpers, but she doesn’t push you away.
you kiss her clit, kitten lick the rim of her hole as a quiet offer of reprieve, one last chance for ellie to back out. she doesn’t, of course—always greedy for more, so she relaxes against the mattress, easing her thighs wider.
it’s mildly unpleasant as the ridges of teeth scrape against your tongue, but the way ellie reacts is worth it—shy and uncertain like it’s her first time all over again, however her need and slutty desperation eclipses any anxiety.
when your tongue ventures too deep, her walls convulse—teeth closing down like a tiny, feral mouth that slyly set a trap for its prey. you pull back before your tongue becomes a casualty. still, the pink muscle throbs tenderly from all the minor abrasions it’s collected, but, miraculously, it remains in intact. the taste lingers, though: the salty tinge of ellie’s slick mixed with a metallic hint of blood.
“they tried to bite me,” you murmur, not in accusation but in thought.
ellie doesn’t respond right away. then, quietly, horrified;
“fuck—i’m a freak. i can’t be touched, i can’t—you should leave, i could hurt you. i almost did hurt you.”
“leave? els, you think a few measly teeth are enough to send me packing?”
unperturbed and suddenly out to prove something, you lower yourself between her thighs again, not paying any mind to her clit this time, but heading straight for her curious, new anatomy. the lurking danger is somewhat thrilling anyway. tilting your head, you trace and catalogue every rough edge of enamel, every uncanny smooth face of each tooth.
ellie is gasping like a fish out of water, pulling you closer, pushing you away, closer, away, closer. fuck, her new teeth are so sensitive, like biting directly into ice cream, followed by a seismic wave of pleasure.
when your tongue is pressed as deep inside her pussy as you can manage, ellie yelps—digging her nails into your scalp, holding you still as her eyes roll back into her skull. she screams; a sound of shocked, unadulterated ecstasy, and her walls convulse again.
you pull your tongue out of her hole before it’s devoured completely, asking with vague astonishment, “did you just cum?”
”they’re… sensitive, okay?” she mutters, nebulous and trembling from her profoundly intense, teeth-catalyzed orgasm.
Girl I’m so sorry I swear I’ve sent u every single ask u posted about underwear hcs but I can’t stop! You mentioned Jinx going commando and I just remembered that scene where Ellie can’t be bothered to change into a clean hoodie and she doesn’t even brush her teeth before leaving for patrol. She’s not a lazy girl per se, but I just know she would forget to put on underwear most days.. or wouldn’t care to
yesyesyes, she strikes me as the type of person who would forgo underwear altogether or she would wear the same pair for days on end (which is gross, i know—but she’s a loser + i think it’s heavily implied that hygiene stills feels trivial to her after surviving outside of civilization for so long).
looking back at ur ellie pussy post u didn’t mention if she has a bush or not :( so this is me asking hehe
ellie has one of those untamable, exuberant, retro ‘70s bushes. i firmly believe she’s never once attempted to shave or even groom her pussy—partially because she has bigger fish to fry, mostly because she just doesn’t care to!
pls what’re ur thoughts on omega vi? i think she might be a little ashamed about her second gender :(
i agree! vi as an omega could go one of two ways; either she is overtly proud of her secondary gender, completely secure in her identity, an unapologetic crusader for omega liberation, revels in the fact that she doesn’t fit the stereotypical archetype of how an omega is “supposed” to be.
or, vi is quietly ashamed of her secondary gender; worried that she’s not soft enough, sweet enough, nor inherently maternal. feels like an imposter in her own body, doesn’t bother correcting anyone who assumes she’s an alpha. spends her heats alone because she is far too embarrassed of the needy, delirious, debauched creature she becomes while under the influence of her heat-muddled mind.
caitlyn wearing this robe from s2 ep4 and being your sexy, vaguely oblivious, strictly off-limits, milf next-door neighbor. she calls you “darling,” greets you over the dark oak fence in the mornings, wrapped in her plum gossamer robe—which is meant to suggest class and poise and promise at least a shred of modesty. in theory, it’s elegant. in reality, it’s indecent: too thin, too delicate, too carelessly tied, and somehow more obscene than if she were actually naked. you can make out the thin outline of her lacy panties; the plush, mountainous swell of her breasts; her dusky nipples beneath faintly sheer fabric (but only when the sun is particularly blinding that day); the scandalous mid-thigh slit of her robe; her absurdly long, unfairly perfect legs. is she teasing you on purpose? she must be at this point, because how could a person possibly be so incognizant? but cait has been sooo lonely ever since her kids left the nest, and more so since her wife has been away on business. can you really fault her for needing some extra attention, especially from a pretty young thing such as yourself? the least you can do is indulge her.
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