I don’t usually get political on social media but with everything that is going on it’s harder and harder to stay informed.
153 democrats voted in favor of sending 3.3BILLION tax funded dollars in weapons to Israel. There are no good guys. The democratic Party is just as Corrupt as the republican Party and they’re causing a divide to distract us from it.
Next up.
DT announced plans to cut off federal funding to blue states.
Let me remind you guys that only 5 blue states make up 35% OF OUR COUNTRYS TAXES. ONLY 5. if those blue states choose to withhold on federal tax the entire country is going to collapse.
Please do research. Please stay informed. Please contact your state reps. PLEASE. STAY. SAFE.
if it's okay can you maybe write jinx x reader but the reader recently got broken up with and like. confides in jinx to comfort her and jinx ends up getting reeeeal freaky with her (but in a wholesome way) and they end up having Lesbian Sex
if not it's okay im just lowkey going through a hard time rn
❥・summary; reader's struggling to get over her ex- and jinx knows she could treat her so much better. she tried to comfort reader constructively, she really did. in the heat of the moment, though, unpredicted things are bound to happen.
❥・tags/warnings; bestfriend!jinx, kinda perv!jinx, dom!jinx, sub!reader, both are equally desperate, porn with plot, mentions of an (unnamed) ex, hurt/comfort, fluff, jinx is trying to be a good friend, fingering, scissoring, messy sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praise, jinx wants that cookie BAD
❥・wc; 4.0k
i know this is late but from one girl who just got out of a relationship to another, you've got this 🫂 i hope you're doing well and know my inbox is always open!
minors dni.
jinx isn’t sure how to describe what she felt when you first told her that you and your girlfriend broke up.
joy, at the fact you were finally free of that lowlife asshole who didn’t know how to treat a girl. despair, knowing that you’d be torn up about this. you did get dumped seemingly out of the blue, after all. not to mention that breakups are hard to begin with, no matter the circumstances.
most of all, she feels excited. you met her about a year into your relationship- with her finding you charming from the very beginning. kind and witty in a way she isn’t, not to mention absolutely stunning. when you mentioned your girlfriend in passing, jinx was devastated. every time you brought her up in conversation made her bristle, made her snappy. you tried not to pay it any mind, but it’s been clear throughout your entire friendship that jinx didn’t like her.
you thought it might be because you complained about her a fair bit, and that jinx was a little too harsh. a little too protective over you. but you shrugged it off, appreciating her concern.
it was partially true. jinx did hate her for those reasons, stating over and over again that you deserved better. she left out that the ‘better’ she spoke of was her. she would give you the entire world and then some, anything to see that beautiful smile- if she could only call you hers, you’d never know hardship again. every time you came to her to vent about another argument between you and your girlfriend, she hoped that you’d tell her you finally broke up. it’s a longing that nearly split her open.
still, jinx is respectful. she’s never made any advances, because she knows you’re spoken for. the last thing she wants to do is drive you further away when she has someone so good in her life.
that’s never stopped her from stealing glances at your cleavage, though, or taking notice of how perfectly your favorite jeans hug the curve of your ass. when you lean over while wearing skirts, jinx just about short-circuits, feeling warm between her thighs and having to wait torturously until you leave the hideout so she can run to her cot and shove her fingers inside herself.
squealing like a virgin, using her free hand to pinch and pull at her nipples. wishing more than anything that it was you doing this to her.
even though you may be distraught, your breakup is some of the best news jinx has ever heard.
a knock rings at her door, and jinx springs up to open it. this is her first time seeing you since the breakup- which is now a week behind you- and she isn’t sure what to expect.
her heart contracts in her chest when she opens the door to see your face, eyes downcast and expression still. you don’t look upset, per se, rather numb. she isn’t sure which one is worse.
“heya, toots,” she hums, trying to give you a small smile. “you don’t look too hot.”
“yeah, i don’t feel it either.”
she chuckles softly and steps aside to allow you into her hideout. you both make your way down the steel panels toward her workbench, then turn to her bedroom, where you kick off her shoes and sit down on the beanbag huddled in the corner. jinx makes herself comfortable on the floor next to you.
one of the things jinx thinks sets her apart from your ex is that she genuinely cares about you and your well-being. as much as she wants to go the extra mile with you, it breaks her to see you so withdrawn, especially over someone who barely gave you the time of day.
she wants you to be happy, first and foremost. you’re so much more than that girl made you out to be.
“do you wanna talk about it?” she offers.
you shrug, worrying at your bottom lip. “i dunno. it just.. sucks that it had to end this way. things weren’t good, but i hoped they’d get better. she kept saying they would.”
jinx nods along with your words, tilting her head as she listens.
she could’ve told you things wouldn’t get better. she did tell you that. but that isn’t going to make you feel any better right now.
you run a hand through your hair and let out a heavy breath. since the actual breakup, you haven’t talked about this with anybody. it feels so, so good to finally be able to let it out with someone who understands.
“i wish she would’ve tried harder. that she would’ve fought for us, but in the end, it was like i was nothing to her,” you breathe out. “i tried, i really did. i was so patient, and i stuck around because i loved her, but.. sometimes that isn’t enough, i guess.”
“you can’t love someone into loving you,” jinx murmurs.
your lips press into a thin line, and you nod.
“i know that.”
“but you still feel like shit.”
you nod again, and jinx’s lips pull into a little frown. now that you’re saying everything out loud, you’re realizing for the first time just how bad everything was.
how terribly this girl treated you, the entire year and a half of your relationship.
“but i still feel like shit.” you affirm.
the girl grasps your hand gently, and your shoulders untense. she looks at you earnestly, rosy eyes boring into hers. she wishes that she could take away the pain, and more importantly, that your affections would be focused on her instead.
maybe she’s selfish for thinking that. maybe she’s too far-gone. she can’t help herself, though, especially not when your voice remains sweet in the way you try to defend your ex and your cleavage is barely peeking out of your tops.
gods. what she’d do if you would only let her.
she snaps herself out of her thoughts and forces her eyes up.
“well, duh. you just got dumped. you’re gonna feel terrible. but that doesn’t mean you gotta let it consume you, you know? there’s plenty of fish in the sea, or whatever they say.”
you scoff, rolling your eyes. “yeah? doesn’t seem like it.”
jinx gives your hand a gentle squeeze, a million thoughts running through her head. she wishes she could take you by the shoulders and shake you and yell ‘i’m right here,’ yet she knows she can’t.
“i swear, there are.”
with a swallow, you nod once again, drawing your knees up to your chest. right now, your gaze is anywhere but jinx. since the breakup, you’ve isolated yourself a fair bit. supposing that nobody would want to hear about the torment you’ve gone through, you kept it locked deep inside. it feels almost wrong to finally let it out. you know, though, with someone like jinx, things could never be wrong.
“i don’t think i’m gonna find anyone like her again,” you sigh.
jinx can’t hold herself back from snorting. “yeah, that’s the whole point. you don’t need anyone like her.”
she’s right. you know she is, and still, you can’t bring yourself to meet her imploring gaze.
“i know. even though i feel terrible, it.. it does kind of feel like a weight is lifted off my shoulders, you know?”
jinx gives a soft ‘mhm,’ trying not to let her delight show externally.
internally, she’s rejoicing. you’re feeling relief, which is good, and moreso, a sign of moving on, a sign she can take to swoop in and make you happy.
your eyes finally lift to meet hers, and jinx’s heart skips a beat. subconsciously, her face moves closer to yours, inching minute by minute.
“you’re a lot better off without her,” she says, voice hushed and raspy. “even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”
she doesn’t miss the way your mouth opens then closes, or the way you trip over your words. “yeah, i guess so.”
she huffs again, so close now that the two of you are sharing breath. you can smell gunpowder loosely clinging to her, as well as the slight scent of cotton candy perfume. you could count all of the freckles dusting her cheeks if you wanted to. you don’t think you’ve ever been this close to your friend.
“i know so.”
without further hesitation, jinx closes the barely-there gap between the two of you. you’re not sure what comes over you in that moment, but you press back into her, lips finding a steady rhythm as your hand finds the back of her head and tangles in loose blue strands. a soft whine escapes the girl, and heat rushes straight to your core.
what you’d do to hear that sound again.
it starts out slow and gentle, but jinx quickly quickens the pace, traces the seal of your lips with her tongue and presses her chest flush against yours when you let her in. she licks into you with reckless abandon, her hands trailing from your shoulders down to your hips and digging into the soft skin there.
“fuck, you’ve got no idea how long i’ve wanted to do this,” she murmurs, wasting no time before kissing you once again. all you can do is weakly moan against her.
jinx is your best friend. you’ve just gotten out of a long-term relationship. this should feel wrong, but the girl has a way of making you feel like you’ve never felt before.
all you know is that you want more.
you weakly prop yourself up against the wall, jinx chuckling against your lips and taking the hint. she leads you over to her cot where you fall back onto the mattress, and jinx immediately straddles your hips.
her lips are back on yours within seconds, ravenous, like she wants to devour you- if only you knew how many times she’s fantasized about this.
“mm, you’re so fucking hot,” she sighs. she presses another wet kiss to your lips before she starts mouthing at your jawline, trailing kiss after kiss and lightly nipping at the skin. her lips are slightly chapped, and when she descends to your neck, you can’t help tipping your head back. “you have any idea how long i’ve wanted this? huh?”
“what?” you breathe out, your arms winding around the girl’s thin waist despite yourself. she smirks against your skin.
jinx doesn’t answer at first. she just slightly nips at your neck, leaving dark marks in her wake. the girl’s hands creep under your top, fingers bony and cold to the touch. you shiver, and she giggles.
“so fucking long,” she sighs. “i hated seeing you with her, you know. always thought she was no good. i could treat you so much better. could fuck you so much better, too.”
her hands find your tits, and she delights in the fact you’re not wearing a bra. soft to the touch, she kneads at first, squeezing between her hands, and you let out a helpless little whimper.
it’s taking a lot of willpower to process what she’s just said. this whole time, you thought that jinx’s sentiments toward you were purely platonic. yes, she would joke about your hangouts being dates, and she was always a bit touchy with you. you didn’t miss the way her eyes lingered on your breasts at times, but you thought this was just her way of showing affection.
oh, how wrong you were. how good it feels to be under her hands.
somewhere in the heat of it all, her top comes off, perky pale tits displayed as she throws her braids behind her shoulders.
her forefinger and thumb pinch your nipples and start rolling them, drawing a high gasp from you that makes jinx ache. her clit’s throbbing, her pussy is clenching around nothing, desperate for attention- and yet, she knows this is about you.
she isn’t going to ruin this with her own greed.
“jinx-” you say, and she tilts her head.
“hmm?”
“keep going, don’t stop..”
those might be the best words she’s ever heard. she gives a toothy grin, huffing to herself before she yanks your top up over your head and throws it to some corner of the room like it’s personally wronged her.
her head flies down to your collarbones, placing hungry kisses and kitten licks against the skin, shimmer-pink saliva trailing down the valley between your breasts. she goes back to eagerly pinching at and kneading your tits, cruel and harsh in the way that’s so jinx. yet somehow, it’s still gentle. she wouldn’t dream of hurting you.
“don’t think about her right now,” she rasps, spitting the words out like they’re bitter on her tongue. “only me.”
the girl kisses down your navel, then flattens her tongue to lick a slow stripe downward. she’s only had you in a grasp for a few minutes, and she’s already intoxicated off of you. your skin is even softer than she thought it would be, you smell so fucking good, you’re so beautiful.
as your fingernails start to dig into her scalp, jinx lets out a groan and gently nips at your stomach, making your breath hitch. your head falls back, her fingers finding their way under the waistband of your jeans. jinx looks up to you, eyes wide and desperate as a silent request for permission. you nod frantically, and she flies to work the button and free you of the extra layer.
soft thighs displayed before her, your breathing labored, jinx smirks.
her eyes land on your panties, the little piece of cotton separating you from her- then the wet patch that’s formed between your thighs, and her eyes blow even wider. all of this, for her?
“goddamn, you’re soaked,” she laughs. “did i do that?”
you meekly nod, and something deep surges within her. she nudges your legs apart with her hand, then lands two fingers to start teasing at your clit through your panties. a quiet moan falls from your lips, and jinx only presses firmer. her thighs on either side of your body, the girl draws out the taunting just a little more.
you squirm and moan, mind already cloudy with everything that’s gone on and what she’s doing to your senses. after a few more quick strokes, jinx decides she’s been mean enough- and frankly, her patience is running out.
when she pulls your panties off, jinx’s mouth goes dry at the sight that greets her. glistening cunt, puffy lips, clit needy and aching- so much more perfect than she could’ve imagined. your furrowed brows and parted lips only add to her excitement.
she wastes no time pressing her thumb back to your clit, while her middle and ring fingers line up with your weeping hole, arousal already dripping onto the sheets below you. your hands move to her back, nails raking along the powder-blue clouds climbing up her torso, and she hisses through her teeth. it only makes her more desperate.
jinx fantasized about taking you in many different ways. would you like it rough and hard, with her whispering dirty and degrading things into your ear? or would you want slow, gentle lovemaking with her lips brushing your neck and her murmuring sweet nothings?
right now, none of that concerns you. she just wants you, as quickly as possible. that’s why her fingers push into you, quick and mean, and she chuckles when you cry out.
“fuck, ah-”
“shh,” she whispers. “you’re okay, hon. doin’ so good for me.”
jinx hovers over you, staring and taking in your every expression as her fingers work you open. she thrusts in and out, thumbing at your clit so quickly your thoughts are starting to blur around the edges. her fingers feel incredible inside of you, long and strong and reaching all the spots your ex never could. lewd noises spill from your lips, chest heaving as your nails scrape along her back.
jinx revels in how wet you are, how your pussy seems to eagerly suck her back in every time. the girl’s gapped teeth bite at her lower lip, smiling to herself. this is so much better than anything she could’ve imagined.
“ah, please,” you whine, spine curling off the mattress, hips lifting in a weak attempt to get more friction. “more, faster-”
without words, jinx ups the pace, fucking into you even faster, crooking her fingers just right so she reaches that spongy spot inside of you. a ragged moan escapes you as her thumb keeps rubbing your clit in cruel circles, sending shockwaves through your system.
your tits bounce every time her fingers piston into you, and jinx can’t stop herself from ducking down to catch one of them in her mouth- her lips forming a seal and suckling. she alternates between sucking and swirling her tongue around the perked nipple, and when she starts to lightly tug at it with her teeth, you’re pushed over the edge.
it’s not gentle, rather your orgasm slams into you like a freight train. white-hot pleasure surges through you, setting all of your nerves alight as your mind and vision go completely blank. you don’t think you’ve ever felt something this intense. it utterly consumes you.
“there you go,” jinx says. “fuck, you’re beautiful. y’know that? finally get to have you. did she ever make you come this hard? huh?”
you shake your head rapidly, a jumbled string of ‘no’s coming from you. who could’ve predicted that of all people- the mad bomber, your best friend, would be able to make you feel this good? she never spoke of any flings or relationships since you met her, is she just that talented?
the girl keeps thrusting, albeit slowly, riding out your orgasm as she lets your breast go with a wet ‘pop.’ you’re reeling, your heart slamming against your ribs as you come down.
“you’re.. you’re really good.”
jinx snorts and shakes her head, giving you a lazy smile. “of course i am. there’s a lot more where that came from.”
you prop yourself up onto your elbows, body trembling in the aftershocks, and jinx is quick to gently help you into a sitting position. she brushes a kiss to your cheek, so much softer than she was just a minute ago, and rushes to the corner of her room to grab you a plastic water bottle.
“here. mighta screamed yourself hoarse,” she giggles.
with a small smile, you uncap the water bottle and take a heavy swig, before settling against jinx’s headboard.
you’re always a vision to behold. but like this- a thin sheen of sweat covering you, shimmering saliva still evident on your skin, your chest heaving, and dark marks littering your neck, you look divine. the best jinx has ever seen you.
“feelin’ okay?”
“yeah,” you hum.
she smiles and leans forward, this time claiming your lips once again. soft and tentative. “you think you got one more in ya?” she whispers against you. “cause i really wanna go again.”
your body is worn thin from how intense she just was, with how much pleasure she gave you- yet you can’t think of anything better than doing this again.
it’s wrong. you shouldn’t be doing this while you’re still actively recovering from a broken heart. and yet, it’s been a long time since anything has felt this right.
“yeah, yeah,” you breathe out. “i do. promise.”
jinx’s eyes light up and she snickers, swiping a messy kiss to your cheek as she tugs off her own layers- the simple pair of sleep shorts she’s left in, no panties underneath. milky thighs come into view, along with the patch of thick curls around her cunt, framing puffy lips. she’s already dripping arousal onto her inner thighs.
gods, you think. poor girl.
now that your breathing has evened out, jinx figures she’s given you enough time to recover. especially considering how your hips unconsciously chase her, causing her to damn near soak through the bedsheets.
her calloused hands take one of your legs and swings it over her shoulder, letting her quickly slot yourself between your thighs- dripping cunts a breadth away from each other. you gasp, and she groans.
“ready?”
you nod once again, and that’s all the permission the girl needs.
that first second of contact is electric. slick against slick, you can feel her desperation against you as she gasps. she gives a slow wind of her hips, as if to test the waters, and you let out a whimper as your clits catch.
your hand finds her waist, while the other fists in the sheets.
jinx’s bangs are messy over her eye, her braids thrown behind her. she gives another slow grind, then another, before you start to fuck back against her, and she lets out a low groan.
as you pick up the pace, a flush starts creeping its way onto jinx’s face. she grips your thigh, nails digging in and leaving little crescent marks, feeling your clit brush hers and feeling your arousal so fucking close she can smell it. it causes her head to spin.
“shit,” she hisses, going faster by the minute. “ungh- you’re so fucking perfect, so pretty, shoulda let me have you sooner-”
“jinx-”
“i know,” she growls, rutting against you like an animal in heat. the last thing she wants to hear right now is more excuses, more about that good-for-nothing ex of yours. tits bouncing with every swivel. “i’ve waited long enough.”
wet sloshing fills the room along with lewd noises, a lewd cacophony that bounces off the walls. the sight in front of you is borderline pornographic, with her plush lips forming an ‘o’ and dribble coming from the corner of her mouth as she fucks against you.
you’re learning so many new things about your friend tonight- one being how incredible she is in bed, the other being how beautiful she looks like this.
as your head starts to tilt back once again, jinx grabs your chin and forces it back down. “look at me,” she demands. “just me.”
your eyes bore into her shimmering gaze as you grind down against her. you’re not sure who’s fucking who at this point, who’s in control- as far as you’re concerned, the both of you are equally desperate. already sensitive from your previous orgasm, all of your senses are heightened, every nerve ending in your body being set ablaze.
she’s all around you. in your head, before your eyes, inside of you, her soul becoming intertwined with yours.
“mmshit, right there!” you whine, and jinx huffs a laugh. “feels so good, please-”
“i gotcha,” she rasps. her abs are tensing as she climbs higher and higher, chasing her own orgasm. jinx would usually last longer than this, but she can’t help herself.
as she feels that knot winding in her lower belly, she surges forward to claim your lips in another messy kiss. all spit, teeth and tongue, licking into your mouth like she wants to swallow you whole. you kiss back the best you can, swirling your tongue with hers and moving your arms to wrap around her shoulders as she keeps humping against you. the headboard slams against the wall, the mattress creaking.
you can’t even tell whose slick is whose. you’re both lost.
and as you tug jinx’s lower lip between your teeth, biting down hard enough to draw the tiniest amount of blood, she tips over that edge, squirting translucent-pink juices over your abused cunt. over your stomach, your inner thighs, positively soaking the sheets as she lets out sharp cries of your name, near babbling at this point.
about how good you feel. about how much she loves this pussy.
you’re not far behind her, especially as she doesn’t let up, pushing you further and further until you’re gushing over her, liquids mixing as she pants heavy over your face.
she’s positively addicting. you swear that your ears ring for a second, jinx finally starting to come to a stop once you’ve reached your peak. you weakly rut against her, your hips stuttering from the sheer overstimulation as your nails rake into her skin.
“fuck, no more,” you gasp. “gods, jinx-”
“i know, toots,” she replies.
truth is, she could go all night. the shimmer coursing through her veins has given her superhuman stamina. but she isn’t a monster, and doesn’t want to push you beyond your limits- not too far, anyways.
“just.. gonna stay here for a minute.”
you don’t object. just try to catch your breath after both of you finally stop grinding.
and as you reflect on how your best friend has made you feel so much better in one night than your ex-girlfriend did in a year and a half.
No matter how small they could be. Hell, you could lie about eating gum and she’d still be pissed. Because why? Why lie to someone who does everything for you? Why lie when she loves you.
She won’t hurt you, she won’t forgive herself for that. Just like Vander.. like Silco.
So she’ll get her anger out in different ways. Like, tying you to her special chair with the name ‘Jinx’ on it with a vibrator nuzzled between your thighs. And she’ll leave you like that. Watch the minutes pass by without a word if she has too. Though, she won’t. She’ll talk. Throw lazy insults in the air that meant nothing.
“You look crazy, look at your hair. My god.” “Why lie about somethin so stupid? I mean, jeez. It’s like lying if you stepped on shit or not.” “Say.. ‘Jinx you’re so amazing and I love you so much’ and.. I might let you free.” She doesn’t.
She’ll watch every change in expression, every twitch in your foot, anytime you tried to get loose and fail miserably. She’d throw out a little chuckle too.
It’s not like she wasn’t turned on from just watching you. She was. But even she could be patient. Sometimes. Ignoring the slight damp in her silly panties with the wrong week on them. Thursday, no silly, it’s Tuesday. But who the fuck is making sure she uses the right week?
She taps her foot on the floor. Tinkering with a false bomb between her fingers. She’s not bored but she needed something to touch. To keep her hands off of you.
Those sharp eyes watching your second orgasm on her blue vibrator she often used on herself. Tears in your eyes as you tried to squirm around. But nothing. Just a, “liar.” From across the room.
❥・summary; your relationship with jinx is.. complicated. you know it's an unhealthy, relentless cycle, but you're putty in her hands. it's hard not to be, when she's this good in bed.
❥・tags/warnings; fwb, doomed yuri, pitfighter!jinx, dom!jinx, sub!reader, porn w (minimal) plot, mentions of injury, angsty undertones, strap-on use, strap-on referred to as 'dick'/'cock,' rough sex, degradation, spit as lube, tit play, minimal aftercare.
❥・wc; 2.1k
inspired by the goat @fortunxa's "trophy girl." i've been wanting to write pitfighter jinx for a while, but lucky unknowingly gave me the push to finally do it :) spot the heathers reference 😛
minors dni.
you jolt up from your sleep with a gasp upon hearing a knock at the door. less a knock, more continuous banging against the wood.
the digital clock on your nightstand reads 2:12am, your apartment is completely still and dark otherwise. you swipe open your phone to check for any missed texts or calls, and the only notifications are from your manager and coworkers. there’s only one person who could be at your door at this time of night.
eyelids still heavy, brain still booting up, you swing your legs over the side of your bed and raise a fist to rub at your eyes. you drag yourself over to the door and when the lock clicks open, sure enough- there she is.
jinx.
“you look like hell,” you mutter.
the girl chuckles, voice hoarse. she’s got days-old eyeliner smudged on her face, dark lipstick, dried blood caked under her nose. blood seeps through the wraps around her knuckles, which are no doubt split. frayed bandages bind her chest while her jeans have more rips in them than you remember. a few of her nails are broken, and you can see the effort it takes her to give you a wry smile.
at the very least, nothing seems to be broken this time. that’s a rarity.
“yeah? i just got back,” she huffs.
the corners of your lips tug into a little frown as she stumbles into your apartment, butting past you and straight into the living room. there’s a limp to her step, and she’s clearly exhausted.
you shouldn’t be letting her in like this. you’re not some good samaritan who takes on charity cases like it’s nothing.
you have responsibilities. a job. someone to answer to, while jinx only has what’s left of her conscience and her bong.
and yet, you don’t fight her. you just sigh as she makes her way to your bedroom, easygoing as if this were her place too, kicking off her boots. dark bags cling to your undereyes, and it doesn’t seem to escape jinx’s notice.
“did i wake you?”
“yeah.”
she just snorts.
infuriating. if there’s one thing that jinx has, it’s audacity. “sorry.”
you know that she isn’t. the relationship that you and jinx have is difficult to define in mere words- the two of you meeting at a dingy dive bar in the undercity one day before she seemed to go off the deep end. she mentioned that she was a good fighter, but the more you saw each other, the more you started to notice her rapid deterioration.
yellow-and-purple bruises blooming on her ribcage, one of her side teeth being chipped, her wrist constantly being in a splint (that she didn’t wear enough for there to even be a point in having it), and the unsteady gait she sported. she always swore she was alright. she made good money, being the fighter she was- you almost couldn’t believe it.
such a small, scrawny girl who might seem delicate to the untrained eye. you know that she’s anything but.
it wasn’t long before you started fucking. “no strings attached,” as jinx said, but you both knew that there were underlying, unacknowledged feelings for each other. neither of you acted on them, seeing as your lifestyles are so opposite each other and jinx has so much going on, a relationship is the last thing she needs.
maybe you could set her straight. you think that, then the girl updates you on her life, and you’re reminded that she’s too far gone. the only one who can get her out of the hole she’s dug for herself is her.
you sit down on your bed beside her, brushing a hand through your hair and sighing, before the girl scoots closer to you and starts mouthing at your neck. feather-light touches at first, but with little hums against your skin.
you had a feeling this is why she came here.
your suspicions are confirmed when she smiles against your neck as you tilt your head back, succumbing to the feeling, and you catch a glimpse of a bulge underneath her pants.
“hopin’ to get lucky, huh?”
“something like that,” she chuckles, teeth grazing soft skin. your breath hitches. “what, is that a problem?”
you shouldn’t keep letting this girl into your home. especially not late at night like this. you shouldn’t stand idly by as she ruins herself, faces off with death every night and lets the gods gamble.
gods, does she feel good, though. you can’t help succumbing to her.
jinx crawls into your lap, pushing you to lean against the headboard as she moves down your neck, blooming hickeys being left behind. she kisses down your clavicle, then toward your breasts, thin tank barely covering your nipples. the woman tugs your top off wordlessly, and you sigh. pebbled nipples greet her, and she chuckles.
“fuck, you’re perfect,” she breathes out, before diving in- she’s always had a thing for your tits. chapped lips form a seal around your nipple, not wasting any time before she starts swirling her tongue around the firm bud. no doubt leaving her lipstick on your skin.
“agh, god-” you choke out, and jinx giggles against you.
her hand, calloused and firm, grabs your other tit and starts rolling the nipple between her finger and thumb, pinching every now and again. harsh and cruel, just like she likes it. you let out breathy moans, already overwhelmed.
“tell me to stop, and i will.”
“don’t stop,” you respond. “don’t you fucking dare.”
this is another benefit of being in jinx’s corner. she’s damn good in bed.
she nudges your thighs apart and immediately slots her knee between them, rubbing at the barely-clothed heat. clad in a pair of thin cotton panties and tiny sleep shorts, there’s barely any barrier between the two of you. you start to grind your hips down subconsciously, a desperate attempt for friction. jinx has barely touched you, and you’re already a dripping mess.
“you want it bad, huh?”
you can only nod, which draws another giggle from jinx. the vibrations send shivers down your spine, causes your pussy to clench around nothing.
“you’re such a slut,” she says. “that’s okay, though. you know i love it.”
you’re shameless. you can’t help being this way when she’s here.
“please-”
“please what, pretty?” she presses up, harder, her knee right in contact with your clit, and you let out a guttural moan.
“fuck me,” you gasp.
through the dark of your room, you can faintly see a smile stretch wide across her face. she finally lets go of your tits, licking a quick stripe down your torso. all decorum is lost. she’s impatient, desperate to free you of the fabric separating you- you tug at the bandages round her chest, and she lets you unravel them. you palm at her breasts, overwhelmed by pleasure already. it’s almost embarrassing, how quickly she can turn you into a puddle of unabashed need.
she lets out cute little gasps, shaky whines, before finally stripping you of your shorts and panties and discarding them to some unknown corner of your bedroom.
your hands fly out to grab at the waistband of her jeans, but jinx’s bandaged hand slaps them away to tug them off herself. through the pale moonlight shining through the window, you can see the huge, girthy strap she’s prepared- slightly curved to the right, picked especially for you.
you don’t know how you’re going to fit it all. your brows furrow, and your mouth is slightly agape.
“somethin’ wrong, toots?”
you shake your head, thighs unconsciously spreading wider. she thumbs at your clit in lazy little circles, making your thoughts all fuzzy and drawing soft moans from you.
“no, i just- dunno if i can take-”
“shh,” jinx presses her index finger to your lips, giggling. “you’ll take it. i know you can.”
the girl spits in her hand and pumps her cock once, twice, biting her lip like she’s actually gaining pleasure from this, and huffs as she sees your dazed expression. she leans back a little to line up the bulbous silicone tip with your hole, leaking already, then starts to push in- gentle, slow at first, before bottoming out in one brutal thrust.
you cry out like the air’s been punched from your lungs, your walls burning and fighting to adjust to the intrusion.
it’s harsh. it’s addictive. she pulls out halfway, then thrusts back in, setting a quick pace from the beginning. her hands come to push your knees up to your chest and pound into you.
she shouldn’t be exerting herself like this. not when her hips are creaking and her hands aren’t able to hold onto you as tight as they usually can, likely on account of her injuries. you shouldn’t even be letting her do this, but your resolve always crumbles in her presence. jinx is your one weakness, and she knows that perfectly well.
in, then out, she pistons her hips, skin slapping against skin. lewd noises spill from your lips, high moans. raising in volume with every thrust.
“ungh, that feels so fucking good, jinx, you’re-” the tip kisses your cervix, and you let out a squeal. “shit, shit, shit!”
jinx laughs low in her throat. her nails start digging into the plush skin of your thighs, undoubtedly leaving behind crescent marks in their wake. she leans down to bite at your earlobe, then licking the spot right below your ear and suckling at soft skin.
“pussy was fuckin’ made for me,” she breathes, voice low and raspy. “say it. love this pussy, fuck, i could die right here.”
you whine, your voice shaky. “was made for you- agh!”
jinx’s teeth sink into her lower lip as she pistons her hips at alarming speed, rosy eyes faintly glowing- she’s damn near superhuman with the shimmer coursing through her veins. your tits bounce with the friction, your head tilts back, your mind is growing fuzzier by the second.
you can feel her all around you. in your stomach. in your fucking ribs.
she fucks into you like she’s paid to do it, like her body isn’t rapidly deteriorating due to her chosen path. she really should be resting right now. taking time to recover, instead, she’s with her fuck-buddy, showing up like a lost lamb.
obscene squelching comes from your pussy, shrill cries and lewd moans spilling from your lips. cunt leaking around her cock, a white ring of arousal’s started to form around the base. the headboard has started to slam against the wall, the mattress creaking with every harsh thrust- you’ll have to apologize to your neighbors later.
you feel that familiar coil start to wind in your lower belly, bringing you closer to ecstasy. you try to breathe out something akin to “i’m close,” but all that comes out are desperate whimpers.
luckily, jinx seems to understand. “where’s that smart girl gone? huh? stuffed full of dick, suddenly you can’t think?”
you can’t do anything but nod, and jinx barks a laugh, thrusting into you even firmer somehow.
“that’s alright, hon. i gotcha,” she giggles.
jinx spits on her hand once more, even though you’re thoroughly soaked. her dextrous fingers reach between your legs, finding your neglected and pulsing clit and rubbing in cruel circles. a guttural moan rips from you, your fingers twisting in the sheets, and jinx leans down to nip at the junction where your neck and shoulder meet.
“come on. make a goddamn mess,” she encourages.
that’s all you need. with a sharp cry, your spine curls off the mattress and your orgasm slams into you like a freight train. for a minute, all there is is white-hot pleasure, juices coating the toy as you cry out her name like a vice.
“that’s it,” she huffs, hips still rocking into you, although slower. riding you through your orgasm. “you’re so pretty when you fall apart, you know that?”
by the time she comes to a halt, your vision is glazed over. your breathing labored, you look up at her in all of her filthy, wounded glory- unable to do much else but choke out, “goddamn.”
she scoffs in amusement, finally easing out of you. the woman undoes the harness around her hips and tosses it to the same corner your clothes are in, before falling onto the bed beside you. she presses soft kisses to your neck, easing you down, but evidently, the exhaustion of her fight is catching up to her. quickly.
“you should rest,” you murmur, voice scratchy.
“mmmaybe,” she breathes out. “you gonna let me crash here?”
you really shouldn’t. not after jinx woke you up at an ungodly hour just to fuck you stupid.
at the same time, you’d feel terrible sending her back to her dingy apartment at this time.
cw: best friend jinx who not so secretly have a fat crush on you. possessive. a little fluff. almost sfw? but a lot of suggestive content.
🫐bestfried!jinx who randomly surprises you with new gadgets. you complained about how your glasses were giving you a headache once, now you have a new one with three different lenses that stack with some soft “clickclickclick” on top of each other. one time you joked about how cool it would be to never have to tie your shoes again. jinx designed a small gadget that when attached to your shoelaces, automatically ties them.
🫐 bestfriend!jinx who absolutely despises your boyfriend. always picking small fights with him, rolling her eyes at what he says and when you two are alone she struggles at finding the balance between saying how he’s not good for you and that you deserve better, all while not making it too obvious that “better” is herself.
🫐 bestfriend!jinx who’s absolutely crazy about losing you. always making sure you two are okay, there’s nothing she wouldn’t do to apologize or to make sure you know how she values your friendship.
🫐 bestfriend!jinx that fall asleep after you on every single sleepover. she can’t get enough of how perfect your slightly open mouth and closed eyes look when you’re completely relaxed.
🫐 bestfriend!jinx who’s always finding a way to keep physical touch with you. she’s behind you? her hands automatically go to your shoulders, massaging you. you two are talking? her fingers are twirling your hair. always playing with your hands when you two have those late night long conversations. it comes as naturally as breathing to her.
🫐bestfriend!jinx who always gets nervous as hell every time you ask to watch a horror movie with her. not because of the movie, but because you always rest your head on her chest, always lets her hug your shoulders and pull you close below the blanket. there was this time where you got scared and literally grabbed her thigh so hard she choked on her popcorn and spent the next minutes coughing.
🫐 bestfriend!jinx that lets so much of her crush slip. last time you wore a tight dress around her, she couldn’t stop staring. “wow, toots… you look so good…” her gaze like a predator while she licks her lips. “are you okay, j?” you asked. she quickly recomposed “yeah, yeah. just wondering where you bought that dress”.
Hi 👋 I was hoping to make a request for a powder au ? R liked annoying powder as a kid but also was her bff (had a crush on her,never said anything) she kinda hated it but also didnt? but r suddenly disappeared. They run into each other in college, they both start realizing their feelings. Just a lot of fluff thank you!🩷💕
of course! thank you for the request <3
❥・summary; as a child, powder was the only person you could truly connect with. after the bridge, though, the two of you fell out of touch- only to meet each other again in college.
❥・tags/warnings; au!powder, university au, but i'll use the word 'college' bc i'm american sorry, childhood best friends to strangers to friends to lovers, pining, fluff.
❥・wc; 6.9k
hii! this is such a cute request, i wasn't sure if you wanted au powder or powder to jinx so i went with au powder. i'm so sorry if that wasn't your vision
“powder, you can’t say that!” you gasp, having to stifle a laugh. your friend is already doubled over, clutching her stomach- she finds herself absolutely hilarious.
“what? i’m just saying what everyone else is thinking!”
you roll your eyes and shake your head. you know that anything else you say will fall on deaf ears, and honestly? what she said had some truth to it. you won’t give her the satisfaction of being right.
“so what if that enforcer was ugly?! you can’t compare him to a toad! that’s, like, disrespectful to toads all around the world!”
“oh, please, it doesn’t matter. you know i’m right.”
“nope.”
powder leans forward from where she’s sitting on the staircase, cloudy night sky stretching out over the two of you. although zaun never truly sleeps, this time of evening usually holds a peaceful tranquility you can’t find any other part of the day. the streets neighboring you are filled with idle chatter rather than boisterous laughter and drunken tumbling.
you and powder have been best friends since the fateful day the two of you bumped into each other in the lanes. her older sister was by her side, holding her hand to make sure she didn’t get lost amongst the chaos that was the undercity. both of you were eight years old, in that awkward phase where you aren’t quite little kids, now starting to gain an understanding of the world around you- yet still too young to truly comprehend all of it.
you gave the girl a little wave, and she waved back, a small smile tugging at her lips. vi looked down at her, then over to you, and a silent exchange seemed to happen between the two of you before vi let go of her hand and powder came running over to you, eagerly introducing herself. almost anxious to make a new friend, but excited nonetheless.
you were always too shy to approach other kids first. much like the majority of zaun’s child population, you were without a conventional family- only having your father and siblings to rely on. even so, that was unstable, seeing as your father worked more than he was ever home so that he could afford to keep a roof over your head.
a quick friendship blossomed between you and powder. soon enough, the two of you were attached at the hip- “never one without the other,” as vi put it. vander welcomed you into his home as if you were another one of his adopted kids, an ever-growing nest. of all the people you knew, powder was the only person that you felt could truly understand you.
and beside her sister, powder felt the same.
now, at twelve, you two are so close to that terrifying stage that is the teenage years- anxious and excited all the same, feeling a little less afraid since the two of you will be entering it together.
of the pair of you, you’ve always been the more level-headed one. both of you are equally smart, but powder tends to live with her head in the clouds. often, you’re the one that has to ground her- and in the same vein, she’s reminding you to think bigger, to dream bigger. opposites in mindset, but it works perfectly. you balance each other out.
“yeah, and you know it.” powder snorts.
you just shake your head, letting out a heavy sigh of exasperation. “whatever you say, pow-pow.”
her expression lights up and she pumps her fist like you’ve just confirmed a great victory, and you chuckle at this. before long, the girl is onto the next subject, yapping away in the way you’ve grown to take great comfort in.
“so.. vi and vander are planning this thing tomorrow at the bridge, saying they wanna take down silco and his goons! but stupid vi keeps saying i can’t come,” she grumbles.
you know this well. it’s not like she’s told you a million and one times- but still, you’re always here to listen.
“it’s for your own good,” you gently remind her, and now it’s powder’s turn to roll her eyes. “she doesn’t want you getting hurt.”
“i’m a big kid, i can handle myself,” she insists. “aaanyways.. i’ve been working on a new monkey bomb with the crystals we found up topside!”
the girl fishes one of the little hex gems out of her side satchel to show you, smiling ear to ear. no matter how many times you see these, they’re remarkable- how could piltover make something so incredible, and how could powder decipher them so quickly?
“yeah?” you prompt.
“i’m gonna go, no matter what vi says. it’s gonna work this time, i know it will. vi’s just scared about nothing- she’ll see! it’ll be so awesome, like- i’m gonna save the day kind of awesome, and then they’re gonna have to see how strong i am. mylo and claggor too.”
you give a small smile, endeared by her enthusiasm. you can’t help the worry that clouds your mind, though, despite how sure of herself she seems.
at the same time, you’ve been friends with powder long enough to know that once she’s made up her mind, there’s no changing it. try as you might to talk her down, you’d be wasting your breath.
“..just be careful, okay?”
powder giggles, giving your shoulder a playful shove. “you worry too much. i’ll be fine.”
you sigh, nodding slowly. seeing your expression- furrowed brows, slight frown, powder’s expression sobers a bit and she pulls you into her side for a hug.
“seriously. i’ll be okay. you’ll see!”
powder, in fact, was not okay.
seldom were you so panicked. you lived close enough to the bridge to hear all of the commotion. you heard the explosions, then debris raining down on your roof. destruction as far as the eye could reach. looking out of your window that never quite closed, you saw the remains of that bridge and vander falling from it- then powder’s wails.
although you couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, you could tell that she was in utter agony. all the loss the two of you have witnessed, all the episodes you’ve helped her through, and you’ve never heard her like this. it brought tears to your own eyes, and right before you were out to jump out of that window to rush to the scene, your father tugged you back by your shirt.
“please, let me go-” you choked out through tears, scrambling to escape his grasp. looking over your shoulder, he only shook his head.
“better not to get involved.”
and fuck, he was right. that fact only upset you more. he know how deep your bond was, but he couldn’t risk you getting caught in crossfire. he couldn’t risk losing his eldest daughter.
you thought you’d hear something more from powder after the fact. the next day, you anxiously waited by your doorstep for her to turn up like she usually would- yet the never did. days of radio silence turned into weeks, then months.
it killed you. you blamed yourself more often than not- wishing that you could’ve done something to change her mind, even if you knew what was almost always a losing battle. tiptoeing through old memories of the two of you together. laughing, smiling, playing hopscotch in the alley and getting scolded for staying out so late. it brought you to tears without fail.
you had heard things through the grapevine. that it was a whirlwind, that powder killed everyone- then that was disproven, and there was said to be only one casualty, but you couldn’t get clear who exactly it was.
after some more time, it became clear, seeing as everyone in the undercity was saying the same thing: vi passed away.
powder held her dying sister in her arms and screamed out for her, pleading for her not to die. apologizing over and over until her vocal chords were strained. that was what you had heard that night, and knowing the full context of it made your heart ache even more.
if only you could’ve stopped her. if only.
you tried to go by the last drop, only to be greeted by vander- if he even was there, as he hired someone to help around the place after vi’s death. whenever you asked for powder, he’d just give a sad smile, and tell you that she wasn’t taking visitors at the moment.
it was hard for you not to take it to heart. it was even harder for you to move after your father decided to uproot the household and move them to a more affluent part of zaun- what could almost be called a suburb.
you tried to protest. you liked your life in the lanes, as unpredictable as it was- but your dad argued that this was the best for you and your siblings. you deserved better than to grow up by constant street fights. you deserved a better education. you had no choice in the matter, anyway, so you dragged your heels to your new home.
the years went by. things changed, you changed, you grew from an unsure young girl to a slightly-less-unsure young woman.
despite the passage of time, you never forgot about powder. the thought of her lingered in the back of your mind- what was she up to now? where did life take her? was she still in the lanes? the image of her, frozen in time as the lanky 12-year-old with the twinkling blue eyes and bright smile, wouldn’t leave you. you didn’t want it to.
life went on, though. sure enough, you went to a better high school, making it into honors classes and even earning a few college credits early. you made a few friends, keeping a small and tight-knit circle. you were close to all of them in different ways- and still, none of them could quite fill the hole in your heart that powder’s absence left.
the social and economic conditions of the undercity improved in ways you would’ve never thought possible just a few years ago. the sky was clearer, more people were housed, more people had access to higher education. a brand new trade school was built on the outskirts, which was a big deal for a city that’s never even had a college.
nights filled with laughter and fun memories didn’t hold a candle to your nights spent playing ball in back alleys and watching pirated movies on vander’s old box tv. and you hated how you felt, because these were good people that you were spending time with. you loved them and they loved you, treated you in all of the ways that friends should. yet no matter how hard you tried to move on, you couldn’t.
a part of powder would be with you forevermore.
even if it tugged at your heartstrings and made you cry in your bed as you submitted college applications. even if she was a frequent topic of discussion in your journals, and endless songs would always remind you of her.
your first day at the academy proved.. confusing.
overwhelming.
you were in five courses this semester, a good starting point, as you were told. two gen-ed classes, and three relating to your major. truth be told, you didn’t expect to actually get into the academy, granted with their openly elitist practices. students from zaun are few and far between. zaunite applications get thrown away frequently, and those who are admitted have a much higher standard to live up to.
you were shocked to even be admitted, and to your astonishment, you got a full-ride scholarship. you decided to pay the extra fee for a single dorm, seeing as it was covered by your scholarship. moving in was more of a pain than you expected. it’s true, the saying that you never realize how much stuff you truly have until it’s time to move.
despite the challenges, you’re here, and you’re gonna make sure to count your blessings daily. two classes monday, wednesday and friday, three on tuesday and thursday. your first day is a wednesday, and the morning class was related to your major. no heavy courseload yet, just introductions and the syllabus- as well as reluctant icebreakers.
last class.. modern physics: quantum mechanics. why this was a general education requirement, you had no idea. science was the credit you needed to get, but why were you enrolled in this course specifically?
it’s not that you don’t understand physics. it’s just that in all of your high school physics classes, you passed by the skin of your teeth. it’s not among your many strengths. what made it even worse is that none of your high school friends had been accepted into the academy, so you had nobody to rely on in class. nobody to borrow notes from. nobody to study with.
stepping into the crowded lecture hall, you saw a sea of people already there. some sat in the very front, an ambitious decision- and some huddled in the back. very few in the rows in between. after a few looks at who was sitting where, you decided to sit in the row third from the front. it had the least amount of people currently occupying it, though you figured the entire hall would be filled within moments.
you were right.
you grabbed your laptop from your bookbag and opened it to the online course page, as well as an empty spiral notebook and a ballpoint pen. just in case.
soon enough, the professor entered with a laptop and powerpoint ready, talking about the same procedures you’ve had explained several times. an overview of the course, attendance, grading policies, AI policy, deadlines, office hours.. it’s the same for every class with very minor changes. letting your mind drift for a moment, your gaze shifts from student to student in the rows in front of you. one is playing slither.io on their laptop, another is paying attention but yawning very loudly, another is resting their chin in their hand and seemingly trying to keep from falling asleep. your eye catches someone, though, sitting at the very front.
a girl with a petite frame, pale skin, in a green vest. her hair is pulled into high space buns, blue with a little pink streak on one side.
you recognize that shade of blue.
you recognize those shoulder freckles.
suddenly, your heart feels as if it might beat out of your chest, and you’re physically unable to focus on what the professor is saying. you can’t get ahead of yourself, you keep trying to think, but you wish so badly that the girl would just turn around. if only for a split second, so that you could see if she is who you think she might be.
you’re not sure if you hope it’ll be her or not. all these years spent missing your once-best-friend, and now you’re utterly terrified at the prospect of actually seeing her again.
would it be awkward? would the dynamic be the same? would powder think that you left her behind, or that you forgot about her?
worse, did she forget you?
you can hear your pulse in your ears, and suddenly, your hands gripping the chair beneath you begin to soak the plastic in sweat. the minutes crawl by as your mind races a mile a minute, thinking of every possible way this could end.
where do you even go from here? approach her? make a fool of yourself?
“class dismissed,” the professor says, cutting through your thoughts. with a huff, you stuff your laptop and stationery back into your bag. your eyes barely leave the girl in front of you for a second, and she turns to the side when the person next to her asks her a question- and you swear you can feel your heart stop. it’s as if the world stills completely.
that side profile.
those same twinkling, powder-blue eyes are locked on your classmate. the slim, low-bridged nose, the same gapped smile. you’d recognize it anywhere. if you were sweating before, your body is absolutely overwhelmed now. powder and your classmate wave goodbye to each other, and then she turns just a little more- and her eyes catch yours.
your heart stutters. for a moment, she stares at you dumbly, thick brows furrowing, but a beat later she’s gasping and rushing over to you.
“holy shit, it’s you!”
your eyes widen, and all you can manage is to nod. “and.. powder!”
all of the anxiety has washed away. the absolute best case scenario has happened, the girl from so long ago remembers you just as vividly as you do her. she hasn’t moved on, hasn’t replaced you.
without hesitation, powder throws her arms around your shoulders and giggles, and you allow yourself to laugh with her as you return her embrace. you’ve been waiting for this for years now- her arms are tight around you, and she’s got that same smell of vanilla body wash and vague oil from her mechanics that you remember so well.
it’s a bit awkward, being in the aisle of a lecture hall. a few students scoff and push past you, but neither of you pay any mind. you’ll savor this moment for as long as humanly possible.
you pull away reluctantly, enough to meet her eyes. do you see tears welling? you let out a breathy laugh. “what the hell happened to you?”
“well.. vi passed away,” she sighs, a flicker of inexplicable grief passing over her expression. she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, though, and continues. “and after everything, vander wanted to lay low for a while. give us time to grieve, make sure that we’re safe, and give him time to get it through my head that this wasn’t my fault. i really struggled for a while, you know? i still do. i just.. i wanna make her proud. i wanted to come here, but mylo gave me the push i needed. said that vi would’ve wanted to see me make something of myself.”
you nod slowly, face softening with her words. you loosen your embrace to take one of her hands in yours and give it a gentle squeeze.
“yeah,” you murmur. “i think so too.”
powder presses her lips into a thin line. “and i thought of you. constantly. i wanted to go out and find you, but vander insisted we all stay in his line of sight. he was worried i’d do something since i wasn’t..” she gestures vaguely to her head with her free hand. “all there, mentally. but i just wanted to find you.”
gods, you’ve wanted to hear that for so long.
all this time wondering. finally, you have an answer, and you feel as if you’re floating. absolutely untouchable to the outside world.
“i tried looking for you too,” you breathe out. “but vander.. he always turned me away.”
powder’s eyes widen momentarily, and you figure that he must’ve never told her this.
“..by the time i could go to your house, it was empty. i tried to ask around, but everyone just said you moved. i knew that, but nobody knew where you moved to.”
“i’m sorry, i- my dad, he wanted to move us to a..” you can’t say ‘nicer’ when you mean richer. “..more affluent part of zaun, so we could go to better schools, and we weren’t around the chaos of the lanes.”
powder huffs at that, a smile tugging at her lips before shaking her head. “yeah, sounds like your old man.”
you shrug, mirroring her smile. she perks up then, and finally starts walking toward the exit.
“do you wanna see my place?”
“sure,” you hum. “what dorm?”
“i’m living off campus. cheaper that way.”
you just nod, following her lead.
soon enough, you and powder fell back into a familiar routine. there were some nerves at first, with all the life changes that had happened- both of you going from children to young adults, the entire world at your fingertips, and trying to navigate exactly what that means for you. one thing you’re sure about is that it’s much less daunting with a friend by your side.
after the initial stages, it was like no time had passed at all. despite powder’s appearance changing and her life taking a different direction, the dynamic was the same. her personality remained unchanged for the most part- still the same spunky, ambitious, brave, genius girl you once knew.
you learned that she was majoring in mechanical engineering, and that the class you shared was a requirement for that. she was surprised upon learning that it was just a gen-ed class for you, but shrugged it off. freshman scheduling is odd in that way.
you exchanged phone numbers and social media, and powder was disappointed to see that you only had an instagram which you never posted on. you just laughed, citing that you were always the more reserved one in the friendship.
you explored campus together, went to the various dining halls and cringed at the less-than-stellar ‘food’ they offered. you laughed at the gaudy academy merchandise that the rich kids wore like they were paid to. but now, only three weeks into the semester, you’re coming up on your first exam.
“do you wanna study together?” the girl had proposed, and you accepted immediately. she smiled, and pursed her lips. “where should we go?”
“campus library?” you suggested, but powder shook her head.
“no, too many people. i’ll get distracted.”
“..cafe?”
“same thing! ugh, can’t we just go to your dorm?”
you’re not sure why you haven’t thought of that, and you’re not sure why the mere idea is making heat rise to your cheeks. you nod slowly.
“uh- yeah. dorm works, it isn’t too far a walk..”
“superposition,” powder says, leaning closer to you. the two of you are sat on your dorm floor atop your rug, notebooks, textbooks, pens, and highlights scattered all over. it’s past dark now, and you’ve been at this for hours.
clearly, your friend is understanding this, but it feels like a foreign language to you. one without a dictionary, and powder is trying her absolute best to explain everything- you’d feel awful admitting that despite her efforts, this still makes no sense to you.
the problem on the study guide seems to be mocking you. you look at it over and over again. i = 24 3+2 − 7 2 3+2 − 3i 3+2 =2 − 3 5 i , and even though powder has offered to give you the answer multiple times, you’ve declined every single one.
“this is college, pow,” you sighed. “i can’t rely on others for stuff i should know.”
isolate one source, then analyze the modified circuit, repeat, sum.
it sounds so simple on paper, but in practice, you feel helpless. all those years of studying and all those good grades, seemingly for nothing- at least that’s the way you’re seeing it.
powder’s gone back to her own study guide, which she’s almost fully through. she’s solved every practice problem, memorized every definition and formula that she’ll need for the test. probably the ones she won’t need, too.
finally, though, you manage to isolate the source and analyze. for one, then the next, then you’re finished.
one practice problem down, fourteen to go.
“look at you,” powder giggles. “see? i knew you’d get it!”
you brush off her words with a small smile, shaking your head and rushing to write down the next problems. after the torment that was figuring out the first one, the rest come easily to you. same formula, different numbers, similar outcomes.
you’re not sure what makes your professor’s teaching so confusing. you’re not sure if it’s anything to do with her to begin with, but whatever powder has done has helped tremendously.
by now, she’s moving on to making her own practice problems, cross-referencing the textbook and study guide. you almost envy the girl’s understanding of this, but then again, she’s always been a genius. always been good at solving problems and working with her hands. it’s no wonder that she’s decided to go into this field.
“you’re really good at this,” you murmur, and powder snorts. just like old times, you think.
“eh, i’m alright. i know my way around.”
“no, seriously. i knew you were smart, but this is.. wow.”
powder gives a soft smile, shrugging and scratching down the rest of her practice problem. “you give me too much credit.”
“just accept the compliment.”
“alright, alright,” she rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “thank you.”
you look out the window, then at the time on your phone. 11:39 already? it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long, but then again, powder was always the type of friend that made time fly by just by being with her.
it’s good to see that some things don’t change.
“do you.. wanna stay over for the night? i’d just feel awful sending you to get home this late, and- i mean, i have an extra bed,” you gesture to the other side of the room, seeing powder’s blue eyes lift from her notebook. “you don’t have to. just offering.”
“alright,” powder sighs, not seeming to take any time to reflect. like a reflex. for some reason, that makes your heart surge, unlike the feeling you got during sleepovers as a kid. you brush it off.
she closes her notebook and haphazardly shoves it in her bag, kicking it to the side as she makes her way to your bathroom to wash up. you dim the lights before joining her in brushing your teeth and washing your face, then going back into your bedroom to change into pajamas. you feel bad almost, knowing powder didn’t bring anything of her own. she’s always been more than welcome to your wardrobe, though- and all of your belongings, really.
once she’s done, her hair let down and shorter than you remember it- you near gasp, seeing just how beautiful it looks falling over her shoulders- she climbs into your guest bed, directly opposite yours. with a yawn, you turn over and get under the covers.
“ready for bed?”
“mhm,” she murmurs, voice laced with exhaustion.
you reach over to turn your lamp off, and powder echoes your yawn. you hear some shuffling, then silence. closing your eyes, turning over.
it’s been a day.
of all the scenarios in your head, fantasizing about how you and powder might reunite, none of them played out quite like this. you thought you might bump into each other on the street, or find each other on social media, or find her working at a local shop. she never mentioned dreams of higher education, though.
all of that aside, though, you’re grateful that you’re finally together again. although you wish that you would’ve seen the years forming her into the woman she is now, you’re impressed by who she’s grown up to be. you hope that with even more time, you can learn the things that changed her, made her light up, and made her weep in the night.
you just want to be close to her again. so far, this seems promising.
powder cuts through your thoughts with a whispered “goodnight,” and her voice makes something in you ache.
“goodnight,” you reply.
you and powder rarely go anywhere without each other now.
after visiting the last drop for the first time in years, vander has welcomed you with open arms and explained all of what happened from his perspective. you were understanding, you forgave him, and within no time, the dynamic went back to the same it was years ago.
she’s still troubled. that much is clear. time doesn’t heal all wounds, and losing her sister has done more damage than she can explain. you don’t try to rationalize the pain to her, nor do you try to fix it. you’re happy to just sit with her in it, to rub her back as she cries and to tell her that vi would be so endlessly proud of what she’s doing. of all she’s accomplished. for powder, that’s enough.
it honestly shocked you, how quickly things settled into place. you expected some initial awkwardness and growing pains, yet none of those were present. powder had obviously changed, but not in any ways that would change your friendship.
you don’t remember her being this.. touchy, though.
it’s been a little over a month since that fateful meeting. it’s been a little over a month of slowly learning the basics of quantum physics, which powder has already finished. an easy A, as she puts it, just something to guarantee her degree. the lectures are drawn-out and dry, the homework is near incomprehensible. every time you look at the figures presented to you, you squint like you’re trying to read an ancient language.
somehow, powder is always able to reframe things in a way that you’ll understand. she’s truly been your saving grace, and you don’t believe you’d be passing without her guidance. late nights spent in your dorm have become routine. you enter class together, you leave together, you submit your assignments right after she submits hers.
this would surely ruin your friendship. considering that there’s no way in hell she’d ever return your affections, at least not in the romantic sense, you can’t imagine possibly confessing to her. confessing to her, and then ruining something so good. you’ve just gotten powder back after seven years.
you don’t want to risk losing her again.
today, you’ve had a lecture about the uncertainty principle. while most of it went over your head, powder assured you that she’d help you. just like always. as you pack up your bag and sling it over your shoulders, powder walks into your aisle and you give her a soft smile.
“hey, pow.”
“hey,” she hums. “everything good? your brain hasn’t totally turned to mush, right?”
“not yet,” you chuckle. “i’ll be fine. i have a great teacher right here.”
“oh, hush.”
powder playfully shoves your shoulder and you giggle, starting to head toward the exit of the hall. “say, there’s a new boba place nearby.. do you wanna check it out?”
powder nods quicker than she can think.
“do i? how far?”
“about a ten minute walk,” you say, pulling out your phone to start directions. “not bad.”
the girl shrugs, and you’re on your way.
you hold open the door for her upon arrival, and powder murmurs a quick ‘thank you’ before stepping in. you look over the menu for a few moments before she smiles and goes up to the counter. once you both place your orders, you reach for your card, and powder gasps.
“hey, no!”
“i’ve got it,” you insist.
“no. you paid for lunch last time, so i’ll get it this time.”
“powder, really, it’s okay,” you huff, smiling gently. “if it bothers you that much, you can pay next time.”
the girl opens her mouth to argue, but you’ve already tapped your card before she can. she rolls her eyes and groans, practically dragging her feet to the other side of the counter to wait for your order. you have to stifle a laugh.
despite herself, when you join her, powder lays her head on your shoulder and leans into you. though still not happy, she’s so comfortable. so content.
messy, choppy blue locks sprawl over your shoulder, warmth radiating off her like sunrays on a spring day. the smell of oil is braided with her fruity perfume, and she sighs against you. crosses her arms as you ruffle her hair, and gives a lopsided smile.
gods, you think. she’s adorable.
heat rises to your cheeks as she relaxes more and more into you, but before you can truly soak in the moment, your name is called and your drinks are placed on the counter. powder’s smile widens and she snatches up the boba, and that’s when you realize that you might be falling for your best friend.
the dining hall’s food is barely edible, but it’s paid for by your scholarships. who has money for groceries, especially while they’re a student?
you grabbed a few slices of pizza for lunch. the cheese isn’t fully melted, and the crust is so hard it takes five minutes to chew. all the money people pay to go to the academy, and apparently none of it goes to food. it’s edible, at the very least. some kind of sustenance to get you through the day.
you’re mindlessly scrolling on your instagram feed as you eat, headphones in to drown out the hustle and bustle of students around you. college isn’t like high school. cliques aren’t as prevalent, and nobody looks at you oddly if you’re sitting by yourself. you have a lot more freedom to truly do what you want.
out of the corner of your eye, though, you see a familiar bag being set down and you take out one of your headphones. powder.
coming to terms with your feelings was.. difficult. the last time you recall having a crush was in your first year of high school, yearning for a girl in your english class whose laugh lit up your world. your hopes were crushed when you saw her kiss one of the school’s athletes on the cheek and walk away with her, arms looped, disgustingly in love.
you don’t remember feeling this way about powder before, and you can’t figure out what it is about her that makes you look at her this way now. but every time she reaches for your hand while walking to class, your heart jumps. every praise she gives you after you get a practice problem right makes you beam.
you revel in her warmth. while you initially dreaded the thought of the class, now it’s your favorite part of the day. everything else seems to pale in comparison.
she sets down a plate with a slice of pizza, the same as yours, some fruit, and varied bags of chips.
“they think this stuff is actual food?” she huffs.
you huff, giving a small smile to the girl as you shove your phone into your pocket. her hair is done in a high messy bun with pink and blue clips holding back the choppy face-framing layers she’s recently touched up, with a deep purple tank over a black mesh top. she’s hastily swiped silver glitter over both of her eyes and is wearing pink lip gloss. jean shorts over ripped tights and combat boots. she looks stunning.
put together and messy all the same, that balance that powder strikes so perfectly.
“according to the health board,” you remark. “you’d think that a prestigious school up topside would have something better.”
“you could tell me this was stillwater slop, and i wouldn’t think twice.”
that makes you giggle. regardless, powder bites into the fruit that’s still sort of fresh. she’s sitting so close to you it makes your breath catch in your throat. her thighs brush against yours, and you don’t dare move.
the feelings within you are so close to bubbling over. like they’ve taken full control of you, and the words are building up in your throat. you don’t want to say how much you adore her. at the same time, you want to scream it from the rooftops.
but she turns to you with that same smile, looking at you with such warmth in her blue eyes, droning on about piltover’s pretentiousness despite their actual conditions, and the words vanish. maybe you’ll remember them later.
you just nod along with her rambling, offering little ‘uh-huh’s and ‘yeah?’s. no actual opinions. nothing of substance. just you, watching her glossed lips move and her hands wildly gesture.
“i mean, they swear they’re so much better than us. but they’re serving fucking slop at the academy! ironic, huh?”
“yeah. ironic.”
“all i’m gonna say is don’t be surprised if i don’t show up to class one day cause i got food poisoning.”
“don’t get food poisoning, please,” you sigh.
“i’ll try,” powder playfully elbows you, smile stretching across her lips.
you’re fucked.
powder was supposed to leave two hours ago, but you got too caught up in studying. with midterms long gone, finals are approaching quicker than either of you would like. you decided to make a study session out of it, as you always do. notebooks on the floor, dried-out pens and crumpled papers overflowing from the trash, the glow of powder’s laptop being the only source of light in your dorm.
the harsh pitter-patter of rain against your windowpane drew a groan from powder. you aren’t gonna let her go out in this mess and potentially get sick, so you offered her your guest bed, and the girl hastily accepted.
powder’s absentmindedly chewing on the end of her pen as her dark brows furrow. this is a rarity. a concept actually stumping her.
“doing okay?”
“yeah, yeah,” powder mutters. “i’ll figure it out.”
“i’d help if i could.”
“i know you would.”
you’ve printed the same formulas, definitions, and figures down into your notebook more times than you can count. trying to imprint them on your brain, so that the final exam becomes effortless. something that you could do with your eyes closed. you’ve never been one to rely on others for academic help, but if powder isn’t understanding it? you might be doomed.
with a yawn, the girl across from you drops her notebook on the floor and stretches her legs out in front of her. “i need a break.”
“that makes two of us,” you say.
you climb into your bed, fighting the urge to lay down even though your eyelids feel heavy and your body’s grown weary. to your surprise, though, powder follows you instead of going to the opposite side of the room. she climbs the ladder, then plops herself down right next to you.
“we’ll figure it out,” she murmurs, exhaustion creeping into her voice. “just maybe not tonight. but you’ll see.”
“i guess so.”
powder’s hand rests over yours. warm, calloused from all of her tinkering yet still achingly soft somehow. the girl’s always been good at holding two truths at once. your eyes meet, tension thickening in the air between the two of you. your eyes flicker to her lips, then back to her eyes.
“you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for,” she murmurs. “just cause you struggle with this doesn’t mean you’re helpless.”
“yeah, i know,” you sigh. you wish that you could just brush it off, yet you can’t bring yourself to dismiss anything that your friend- is she a friend at this point?- says, no matter how untrue you may think it is. “it’s just really hard. i don’t know how you do it.”
“i was teaching myself this stuff when i was twelve,” she shrugs, and you scoff in amusement, because of course she was. you were there to witness all of it.
your fingers intertwine with hers, and powder gives a soft squeeze. your heart is beating like a wardrum, you can practically hear your pulse surging. janna above, how does she have this effect on you? does she even know what she does to you?
“i mean it. you gotta stop being so hard on yourself.”
“i’ll try.”
“i’m not convinced,” she squeezes your hand once again, and her face inches closer to yours. blue eyes boring into yours like she’s trying to persuade you with looks alone. you can see every line and crackle of her lips, the flyaways from her bangs getting in her eyes. so close that the two of you are sharing breath.
“i mean it.”
“i’m sure you do,” she chuckles, and that does you in.
without thinking, you lean forward, closing the mere centimeters of distance between you two. soft, is your first thought. she tastes like her cotton candy flavored chapstick, she smells perfect as she always does.
and to your surprise, she melts into your touch. her lips move against yours in a slow and steady rhythm, her hand finding the back of your head and fingers threading through your hair. you sigh against her.
you swear you can hear fireworks go off. your body feels like it’s floating, powder’s chest pressing against yours as your hands nervously find her waist. she licks into your mouth, slow and sweet, and you ever so slightly part your lips for her. then she smiles against you, and you can’t help letting out a breathy chuckle.
“i’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” you whisper, and powder huffs.
“why haven’t you?”
“i- i didn’t think you felt the same.”
she presses another kiss to your lips. tender and slow as the last, dissolving all of your previous doubts away. “i do, for the record.”
you give a soft laugh, and powder smiles, looking at you like you’ve hung all the stars in the sky. she yawns, and looking out the window to see rain still pouring down, you whisper, “do you wanna just call it quits for the night?”
she nods slowly, the late hour clearly catching up to her. she slumps against you as you finally lay down, and sleep takes both of you before you can murmur ‘i love you.’
Hiiiiii! I hope you’re doing ok. I don’t know if this would count as an nsfw request, but if you aren’t feeling up to it I totally understand. I’ll keep reading whatever you write regardless. You always deliver on quality. Ok on to the actual request! I was thinking a heated moment between Jinx and her girlfriend comes to an abrupt end when Jinx suddenly finds herself not really interested in going any further. Jinx feels bad because she feels like she always leaves her girl hanging. I always thought of Jinx as the type to be more of a tease. But I never saw her as one who cared for sex.
I’d love to see your take on this. And ofc, feel free to ignore this if your not interested. Absolutely fantastic job your doing babes! Keep it up!
of course! thank you for the request <3
❥・summary; jinx and her girlfriend are in the middle of a heated night, when jinx finds that the voices are too loud. her head is too scrambled, and she can't find it in herself to continue.
no problem at all, i appreciate your discretion and your kind words. i agree honestly- as much as i write about jinx being a freak, i really think she wouldn't care much for sex. this might depend more on her partner's point of view, but i think she'd be fine either with or without..
minors dni.
jinx had her work cut out for her today. between several units of shimmer shipments to oversee, a fight in a back alley of the lanes, intelligence to gather in the last drop, and having to cooperate with sevika, she’s exhausted. sighing at every convenience, slim shoulders hunched over as she drags her feet to the next task.
it didn’t help that lately, jinx’s health hasn’t been stable. some weeks are better than others- this one is unpredictable in every which way. nightmares about mylo and claggor plaguing her, swearing that she hears vi’s voice calling for her and turning around to see absolutely nobody. seeing things out of the corners of her eye that aren’t there, and most of all, the fear of losing you.
jinx’s fear of abandonment becomes especially clear when she’s in states like this. erratic, sensitive, numb- like she’s sitting passenger seat in her own body, watching her life as a mere spectator. the despair isn’t there so much as a feeling of emptiness. as if the part of her brain that screams out in agony has been carved out.
you’ve known this well. sat in her misery and became reluctant friends with it- knowing that this is part of jinx. you don’t love that she’s constantly at war with herself, unable to believe your frequent reassurance and unable to get over the feeling that this is all she’ll ever be. you love her, though, and you’ll always do whatever possible to make her feel that.
even when it’s hard. even when you tell her of your feelings, and she lets out a wet laugh, muttering through tears, “that’s not true.”
which is how you landed yourself between jinx’s thighs, lower legs hooked over your shoulders, positively devouring her cunt. the tip of your tongue circles her swollen clit, drawing high whines from your girlfriend. delicious little sounds that motivate you like no other, pressing firmer against her and slurping her wetness so she gives you more.
jinx’s hand finds your head, fingers threading through your hair and pulling the slightest bit. you hum, high in your throat, undeniably getting wetter yourself. though you decided that tonight is about her, turning her mind off so those pesky, mean thoughts can’t get to her. even if just for a few minutes.
“fuck- ungh, right there,” she breathes out, head falling back. if her moans make you want to do more, her praises make you want to utterly worship her- more than you already do.
your tongue goes flat, licking down and pressing into her weeping hole just enough to hear her mewl. the feeling of her, wet against your chin consumes you, the smell- sweet, metallic, the slightest bit musky, makes your head spin.
feeling her walls flutter around your tongue, then licking back up to that bundle of nerves to form a seal and suck, jinx’s thighs threaten to clamp around your head. your hands go to them immediately, spreading them back open and holding them against the mattress. your thumbs stroking milky skin.
her moans climb higher, her spine curls off the bed like a bowstring pulled taut and you just know that jinx is right there. you’re laser-focused on giving her that release. helping her.
her hips start to roll, surging against your face, and you lick her again, and again, and again. her taste is absolutely addictive.
“please, baby-”
“mhm,” you hum against her, and she cries out.
jinx is right at the edge, about to tip over, when without warning, her hips still. the lewd sounds that were once spilling from her lips slowly fizzle out, and her eyes aren’t squeezed shut anymore, rather staring off into blank space.
you try to pleasure her through it, figuring she might just need a little more encouragement. every second you spend on her pussy, though, you feel like your girlfriend is slipping away from you, and your heart pangs in your chest. fuck.
“jinx,” you whisper, pulling away from her cunt and looking up at her from between her legs. “everything okay?”
this isn’t the first time this has happened. it isn’t the first time, or even the third. it’s not that it’s a common occurrence, but sometimes, jinx simply isn’t one with her body. sometimes the voices get too loud for her to be able to focus on anything other than her continuous mental torment,
“yeah,” she breathes out, voice low and distant. “yeah. you can keep going, toots.”
you purse your lips. she’s given you the go-ahead, and you really do want to keep going down on her girlfriend, but this doesn’t feel right. she doesn’t feel right.
at this moment, sex isn’t what jinx needs. maybe it was a few minutes ago, but now, you can practically hear the gears turning in her mind. you recognize that spacey look on her face, the very expression she wears when dissociation becomes bad.
“no, we’re done.”
gently, you pull up jinx’s still-soaked panties and her sleep shorts, snug around her hips. still topless, but you’re not sure where her top went.
she doesn’t mention it, though.
“seriously, i-”
“i know something’s not right, honey. please, talk to me.”
jinx lets out a heavy sigh as you come to s…it next to her, knees curling beside you and leaning in close to her face. the expression on your face, furrowed brows and lips pulling into a frown makes her ache. janna above.
“i just.. feel kinda off, i guess,” she murmurs, biting the inside of her cheek. “i dunno. like nothing’s real. like i’m not real.”
you figured as much.
still, it hurts to hear. “..did i do anything?”
“no!” she shakes her head frantically, eyes wide. “no, no. you were great, mindblowing-”
the girl sighs, smoothing back blue hair and slouching her shoulders.
“i just zoned out. nothin’ to do with you.”
you nod, giving a low hum of acknowledgement. you place one of your hands gently over hers, and the girl looks back at you. that’s something.
the next few moments are filled with silence. you don’t always know what to say in moments like these, and frankly? it makes you feel helpless, the dread growing like reaching vines that can’t be hacked down. regardless, you still need to try, because jinx needs you more than ever.
“what can i do to help?”
she just shrugs. that throws you off for a moment, but you nod.
“do you just want me to stay here with you?”
“that’d be nice.”
and you’ll do that gladly. so you stick by her side, pulling her into your side and feeling the tension drain from her body as she relaxes into you. your hand runs up and down her arm, tracing powder-blue clouds.
you watch her expression like a hawk. jinx is coming back to you, albeit slowly.
the discomfort won’t wash away, especially not this quickly. you can sit in it with her though, help slowly bring your girlfriend back to earth with the warmth you radiate and the steady sound of your beating heart.
a pause, before jinx’s rosy eyes look up at you, wide and sad. like a kicked puppy.
“..do you ever get tired of this?”
“of what, babe?”
jinx sighs once again, shaking her head and laying it back on your shoulder. one of her hands takes yours, idly fidgeting with your fingers as if it’s the only thing keeping her mind at bay. she’s talking more now, she’s looking at things, at you, rather than into a blank void. that’s progress, yet it isn’t the end all be all.
“of me, getting.. like this,” she gestures to herself, her stiff body, the blank expression on her face. “and ruining nice moments.”
oh.
now it makes sense.
she feels guilty about this, more so about her having to stop sex than about anything else. she shouldn’t feel any sort of guilt right now, but especially about something as insignificant as that.
“babe, no,” you insist, shaking your head. gently, you thread your fingers between hers, desperately searching her face for any indication of that feeling melting away. “i promise you, you did nothing wrong. i don’t care about that, not really. i care that you’re okay. i care that you’re there with me.”
“i was there with you,” she murmurs.
“no, you weren’t. you were here physically,” you lightly tap her forehead. “but not up here.”
“i’m always doing this though,” the girl sighs, though gently squeezes your hand. you squeeze back. “you’re doin’ a great job, i’m having a good time, and then i just.. space out. doesn’t it get tiring?”
“no. i promise.”
jinx frowns, looking at you, breathing labored as if she’s waiting for you to change her mind and confirm her worst fears. you look back, trying to reassure her silently. there’s so many ways that you can and do share your love for your girlfriend, and sex is at the bottom of the list.
surprising her with thoughtful gifts. reassuring her, telling her every single day that you love her and couldn’t imagine a life without her. cuddling up to her after a long day at the job, bone-tired and feeling her melt into your warmth. reminding her of little things that made you think of her- murals on the walls, spiked jewelry, clothing that’s any variant of blue or pink.
“i don’t love you in halves,” you say, voice slow and steady so that she really understands. “i love you. all of you. unconditionally. your head might be telling you things, but it’s wrong, because i’m never gonna be mad at you for something like this. sure, i like having sex with you- but i’m not gonna take anything you can’t give me. i want you to be there, just as much as i am.”
you take a breath after all you’ve said, and finally, jinx seems to relent. she gives a slow nod, and lets her head fall onto your shoulder. internally, you’re beaming.
“..yeah?”
“yeah,” you echo.
you press a chaste kiss to the top of her head, and jinx nuzzles further into your shoulder. it’s a start. for now, that’s more than enough.
⠀⠀⠀𓏲 ⠀⠀IS IT WRONG?⠀ 𓂅⠀natalie scatorccio⠀⠀ ೃ۫ ׅ ⠀
ིྀ ﹒ ( 𝔠.𝔴 ) catholic boarding school!au period typical homophobia religious trauma sexuality repression 2,6k words
Prayers are closer to you than any words of love.
You learn very early that love is something to be monitored. Your mother keeps the Virgin Mary above every doorway in the house as though holiness can seep into the walls and sterilize them from the inside out. Little ceramic saints stand watch in the kitchen. Crosses bloom above beds like warnings. Your father kisses his fingertips before touching the steering wheel each morning.
Every Sunday, your family crowds into the same pew beneath the same stained-glass martyrdoms while the priest speaks of purity in a voice so soft it somehow sounds crueler.
You are good at being good.
That is the tragedy of it.
At eleven years old, you still thought goodness is measurable. A neat little tally kept somewhere in Heaven. You think if you obey enough, pray enough, fold your hands tightly enough beneath your chin, then God will love you in the uncomplicated way your parents seem to.
Then they found you in the girls’ bathroom.
It happened on a Thursday afternoon thick with late spring heat. The cold light buzzed overhead. Someone had carved obscenities into the stall doors with a key. You remember all of this with horrifying clarity afterward because trauma turns ordinary details biblical.
Her name was Clara.
She tasted faintly like strawberry lip gloss and cafeteria apple juice. Your hands shook so badly when she touched your face that she laughed first, soft and nervous, and said, “You look terrified.”
Maybe you were.
Not of her.
Never of her.
The terror came later — when the stall door swung open hard enough to slam against the tile wall. When Mrs. Callahan from administrative staff stared at the two of you like she’d discovered a dead body. When Clara had jerked away from you so quickly it felt like being skinned alive.
That day, you spent the next hour in the principal’s office with your hands folded in your lap so tightly your nails leave little crescent moons in your palms. Your mother cried. That’s what you remember most.
Not yelling. Not fury.
Grief.
Like someone has died.
Your father drove home in silence while your mother quietly prayed in the passenger seat, rosary beads slipping rhythmically through her fingers. Hail Mary, full of grace. Hail Mary, full of grace. Hail Mary—
The crucifix above your bed suddenly feels enormous. Christ hangs there, ribs exposed, head bowed in perpetual agony. You’ve looked at him every night since childhood, but now you cannot stop staring at the wounds in his hands. The blood. The sacrifice.
Your father knocked once before entering your room. He sat beside you carefully, like approaching something disgusting. “You’re confused,” he’d said softly. “You’re still young enough to be guided back.”
Guided back — as though you have wandered somewhere terrible. You nodded because you were eleven and terrified and desperate to still be loved.
Afterward, you kneeled beside your bed until your knees ached against the hardwood floor. You prayed so hard it becomes physical. A violent thing. Your throat burnt with it.
Please make me normal.
Please make me clean.
Please.
But the more you prayed, the more vividly you remembered Clara’s mouth against yours.
By summer, your parents had made their decision.
The boarding school sits three hours north of home, isolated behind wrought-iron gates and towering stone walls blackened by rain and age. St. Magdalene’s Academy for Girls. The brochure describes it as disciplined. Faith-centered. Morally rigorous.
The nuns move through the halls like shadows in black wool.
Everywhere you look, suffering is framed as holiness.
Bleeding saints in oil paintings. Marble virgins with mournful faces. Jesus crucified from every conceivable angle. The girls lower their eyes when they pass the statues as though God Himself might step down and inspect them.
Maybe He does.
You lie awake listening to girls cry quietly into their pillows — at St. Magdalene’s, grief is considered private business between a girl and God.
At first, when you confess, you invent sins because your real ones feel too monstrous to speak aloud. Impatience. Jealousy. Vanity. But eventually the guilt swells too large to contain. It crawls through your body like fever.
So one rainy Thursday, hidden behind the confessional screen, you whisper it.
“I kissed a girl.”
Silence.
Then the priest sighs.
“You must resist temptation,” he tells you. “The Devil reaches us through our weakest desires.”
Weakest desires. You repeat the phrase to yourself afterward until it stops sounding like language and starts sounding like the truth.
Six years later, you learn how to survive the place. You lower your gaze in the hallways. You stop staring too long at pretty mouths and graceful hands and the exposed curve of a girl’s throat when she tips her head back laughing. You stop allowing yourself to imagine tenderness. You stop writing certain thoughts down. During prayer, you no longer ask God to change you. That kind of hope exhausted itself months ago.
Your urges become something small and starving that lives in the walls of your body. An animal scratching behind plaster. You pretend not to hear it.
Most days, you almost succeed.
You sit with the same girls at lunch every afternoon beneath the tall arched windows of the dining hall while rainwater streaks the glass like tears. Cecilia talks too loudly. Maria picks apart her bread into tiny pieces before eating it. Elise keeps holy cards tucked into the pocket of her cardigan and kisses the Virgin Mary before exams.
“Did you hear Sister Bernadette caught two girls holding hands outside the chapel?” Cecilia whispers one afternoon, leaning across the table dramatically.
Maria gasps. “Again?”
“They had to scrub the sanctuary floors for a week.”
Elise crosses herself automatically.
The movement makes your stomach twist. You continue eating your soup even though it tastes vaguely like dishwater and ash.
“What kind of idiot risks it here?” Cecilia mutters. “Seriously. They know what happens.”
You remember being eleven and incapable of concealing anything. Your feelings lived directly on your skin back then. Every fear visible. Every longing transparent. Now there are entire catastrophes happening inside you that nobody notices.
Sometimes you wonder if this is maturity or simply death in smaller, more socially acceptable increments.
You remember being eleven and incapable of concealing anything. Your feelings lived directly on your skin back then. Every fear visible. Every longing transparent. Now there are entire catastrophes happening inside you that nobody notices.
Sometimes you wonder if this is maturity or simply death in smaller, more socially acceptable increments.
That night, rain lashes violently against the dormitory windows while the girls prepare for bed. Soft chatter fills the room beneath the yellow glow of bedside lamps. Someone brushes their hair. Someone else kneels beside their mattress in prayer. The air smells faintly of candle wax, wool uniforms, and wet earth drifting in from outside.
“There’s a new girl coming.”
“She got expelled from her last school.”
“No, she attacked somebody.”
“I heard she smokes.”
“She’s from some tiny town upstate.”
“Apparently her mother’s an alcoholic.”
“No — worse.”
“Worse than that?”
“Natalie Scatorccio.” The name lands strangely inside your chest. You do not know why. Cecilia lowers her voice dramatically from the bed beside yours. “Sister Agnes said she’s trouble. Like actual trouble. She got caught with drugs at her old school.”
Elise looks horrified. “Why would they send someone like that here?”
“To fix her,” Maria replies simply.
Fix her. The word hollows the room out for a moment. Because suddenly you are eleven again. Sitting rigid in your father’s car while your mother cries quietly beside him. Confused, they called you.
You wonder what Natalie Scatorccio did exactly. What particular sin earned her exile to this place. You wonder if she cried when her parents left her here. You wonder if she begged them not to. You wonder if she’s like you — lost and lonely.
Cecilia continues whispering eagerly. “Apparently she’s mean. Like really mean.”
“Maybe she’ll leave,” Elise says hopefully.
“She’ll leave or she won’t,” you say quietly, the first time speaking since they started gossiping. Because you know better. Girls like you do not leave St. Magdalene’s quickly. The school swallows damaged things whole.
Cecilia blinks at you. “You sound like you don’t care.”
“I don’t know her.”
Elise studies your face for a second too long, then looks back down at her prayer book. The rain keeps tapping against the glass like fingers testing for weakness.
Maria chews on her bottom lip before adding, “Sister Agnes said she has bleached hair and wears ripped jeans.” A beat. “That’s… not allowed here,” she finishes helplessly.
Cecilia snorts softly into her palm: “Good luck surviving orientation with that fashion sense.”
“Ripped jeans? Seriously?” Cecilia scoffs, flopping onto her back dramatically. “This isn’t some punk rock school.”
Elise bites her lip. “She’ll have to change that. Sister Agnes won’t let anyone break dress code on day one.”
You stare at the ceiling as rain drums harder against the glass.
Someone like Natalie Scatorccio shouldn’t exist here. This place is built to sand down edges until nothing sharp remains.
You pray for her.
The chapel at St. Magdalene’s is all dark wood and candle smoke, steeped in the kind of suffocating grandeur designed to make girls feel small beneath God’s gaze. Rain presses softly against the stained-glass windows. Red and blue light spills across bowed heads in bruised patches of color.
Father Brennan drones from the altar about temptation. He always speaks about temptation as though it is alive.
A creature with teeth.
You sit three pews from the front between Cecilia and Elise, hands folded neatly in your lap, expression carefully blank. Years of practice have made reverence easy to imitate. You know exactly when to bow your head. When to kneel. When to say amen.
“Guard yourselves against corruption,” Father Brennan says. “The Devil rarely arrives looking monstrous. More often, evil appears seductive.”
You think of lipstick-smudged mouths. Of trembling hands. Of how badly you once wanted to be touched gently.
Then the chapel doors creak open. Every head turns. And there she is.
Natalie Scatorccio stands framed in the doorway beneath the gray morning light, looking less like a new student and more like a problem God Himself forgot to finish solving.
For one terrible second, you understand exactly why the rumors spread so quickly. She does not belong here. In the way cigarette smoke does not belong inside a cathedral.
Her uniform is already wrong somehow. Shirt untucked slightly at the waist. Tie hanging loose. Bleached blonde hair falling messily around sharp, exhausted features. There’s something bruised about her beauty. Something half-feral. Like she’s spent her whole life learning how to bare her teeth before anyone could wound her first.
Sister Agnes escorts her stiffly down the aisle while whispers spread through the pews like infection.
“That’s her.”
“Oh my God.”
“She looks—”
“Shh.”
Natalie keeps her eyes forward, jaw tense. But as she passes your pew, her gaze flicks sideways. Only briefly. Her eyes are lighter than you expected. Sharp and pale and deeply tired. The kind of eyes that look like they’ve seen ugly things too early in life. You lower your gaze immediately.
Because instinct tells you to.
The remainder of mass passes in a blur of scripture and candlelight and self-inflicted restraint. You try not to look at her again. You fail repeatedly.
You notice how slouched she sits in the pew Sister Agnes directs her toward. How she doesn’t recite the prayers. How her knee bounces impatiently beneath the wooden bench. How she looks trapped. You know that feeling intimately.
Afterward, Nat stands alone near the administrative office clutching a stack of papers against her chest. Nobody approaches her. Curiosity circles her at a distance instead.
Before you can reconsider, you approach her. Your shoes click softly against the marble floor. Nat glances up immediately, wary. Up close, she looks even more exhausted. Faint shadows beneath her eyes. A cigarette smell buried deep in her clothes.
“Hey.” You smile — the kind of smile designed not to frighten wounded animals. “You’re already big news here.”
“Yeah. I noticed.” She snorts. Her voice is rough around the edges, like she hasn’t spoken in hours or maybe just never learns how to soften it. She shifts the papers under her arm, eyes darting past you toward a group of girls. “That usually happens when people think you’re a fucking trainwreck.”
You glance instinctively down the hallway, half-expecting lightning to split the ceiling open. Nobody seems to hear. Still, guilt prickles beneath your skin immediately. Reflexive as breathing. Nat notices — you can tell she does because one corner of her mouth twitches faintly, almost amused.
“You gonna report me to a nun?” she asks.
“No.” You smile, this time lighter. “Unless you make me to.”
Fortunately, Nat exhales through her nose, something close to a laugh. “Okay, good. I was kinda worried the nuns had you on a moral espionage squad or something.” She adjusts the papers again, revealing a class schedule with several red ink corrections scribbled across it. “A woman already marked up my uniform violations,” she mutters, showing you the list:
Tie improperly fastened
Shirt untucked
You wince. “Yeah... Sister Agnes is very strict.” You bite your lip, for some reason, already feeling bad for this girl — even though you barely know her. Well, not knowing someone shouldn’t be an obstacle for empathy. “I can help you, if you want. With the whole...” You point to her messy tie. “tie thing.”
“You’re serious?” Nat squints at you like she’s trying to figure out if this is a trick. Her voice has an edge of suspicion, but not hostility. More… baffled disbelief. “I think I’m completely capable of doing my own shit.”
“Okay, but you look like a mess,” you say. “And Sister Agnes is gonna have your head on a pike before lunch if you walk into homeroom looking like that, again.”
Nat blinks. Then she actually laughs this time — short and sharp, surprised out of her by the bluntness. It’s an imperfect sound, not polished and you like it. “Fucking hell,” she mutters through the tail end of it, rubbing her nose with one finger. “You’re weirdly aggressive for someone who wears cardigans.” She eyes your perfectly knotted tie again. “...How do I even fix this stupid thing?”
“First,” you reach for the tie without asking. “Loosen it.” Nat stiffens slightly as your fingers brush her collar. Her skin is warm, a little clammy from stress sweat or maybe just the classroom air being too hot today. You undo the knot carefully and rework it slowly. “You gotta start with a proper wind,” you explain quietly while your hands move automatically over the fabric.
Nat stays very still while you adjust the tie. Her breath is shallow, like she’s holding it without meaning to. “You’re actually good at this,” she says after a second, voice lower than before.
“I had six years of practice.”
“Shit.” She winces. “Six years in this shithole?”
“Yeah.” You smooth the tie one last time, stepping back to inspect your work. It sits neatly now, crisp and proper like it belongs on a girl who prays before meals. “You get used to it or you get killed.” You sigh. “All done.”
Nat touches it self-consciously with her fingertips. “Thanks,” she mutters. This time softer.
The hallway is nearly emptying out now as girls hurry toward classrooms for morning homeroom. A distant bell begins to chime from somewhere in the main building.
“See you around.” You tell her as you walk away.
“Yeah.” You hear from behind you and it makes you smile. “See ya.”
𖥟 your relationship with jinx started with a very simple concept: she gives you weed, you pay her, and that’s it. that was before the lines got blurry, mostly because of what started happening in the cramped, dark backseat of her car.
𖥟 somewhere along the way, the routine changed to her also trading the smoke for a taste of you. she’d only ever gone down on you when she was high, so her tongue was just as hazy as her mind; teasing your swollen clit and lapping your juices for as long as she damn well pleased, working you with a sluggish pace until you squirted all over her face.
𖥟 jinx realized, much to her own frustration, that you were a lot more addicting than anything she could ever sell. she knew it was reckless, but jinx has never been one for following rules.
𖥟 she loves sitting back and lacing up a fresh joint as she watches you ride her strap. she’ll take a long, slow drag before blowing a grey cloud right into your face while you’re gasping and fucking yourself senseless on her. it makes her get all smug and mean for no reason, and she will make you hold eye contact with her even as the stretch of her cock nestled deep inside you makes it an impossible task.
𖥟 at first that’s all it is; ego and lust, her wanting to see if she could get that pretty fucked out look on your face every single time. now she slows down just to hear the noises you make when you’re close, dragging it out because she likes having you squirming under her more than she should.
𖥟 she gets touchy after a while too, always yanking you into her lap while she rolls, shoving her cold hands under your shirt, hooking her chin over your shoulder while you talk…
𖥟 she starts texting you even when you’re not buying anything, pretending like she was just in the area. as if either of you believes that shit, but who can blame her when it works every time?
𖥟 the no feelings involved rule starts feeling like a joke the second she notices you taking care of her without making a big deal out of it, or letting her sleep at your place after a long night. those get under her skin the most; she just lays her head on your stomach while you play with her braids, but she’d never admit how much she needs that soothing feeling of your fingers running though her hair after particularly bad jobs.
𖥟 jinx is a total chatterbox when she’s high out of her mind. with her eyes rolled back into her head as she grinds her soaking wet cunt against yours, her voice all raspy and lopsided as she rambles about how your pussy feels like a goddamn dream, then how much she loves the way you squelch together, her words tripping over each other. then when you’re done and locked in a lazy, sweaty cuddle, she switches to yapping about some hextech thingy she’s building.
𖥟 gets irritated whenever you look too pretty on purpose 😭 if you answer the door dressed all nice, she’ll narrow her eyes at you immediately, and tug you closer by your hips with a “who’s all this for, huh?”, even though she has absolutely zero right to be jealous.
𖥟 so word of warning: if you’re playing the field or getting your stuff from someone else, you better make sure she doesn’t hear about it :) jinx is a lot of things but she’s not chill about competition, especially with you involved.
𖥟 she gets quieter after sex sometimes. not awkward quiet but just busy trying not to think too hard about how safe she feels laying with your arms around her. even when she stays silent, the way she keeps glancing at you from time to time tells you everything you need to know.
𖥟 your “meetings” start getting longer, and instead of the quick transaction and a quick fuck, you just hang out. doesn’t matter if it’s at your place, her workshop, or even somewhere nice she drives to just so you can sit together and talk, jinx always leaves with the same terrifying realization: you haven’t been just a customer to her for a long time.
𖥟 you only get closer, and in her head, jinx is hiding her inner turmoil pretty well. that’s until she accidentally blurts out a breathless "i love you". she looks terrified as she realizes it, her eyes darting around like she’s waiting for you to leave. she’s about to start rambling or making a joke to cover her tracks, her mouth opening to backtrack but you don't let her.
𖥟 you just let out a giggle, reaching up to cup her face and pull her down into a deep, sweet kiss. as you pull away just enough to whisper "i love you too" against her lips, you can feel her body relaxing into yours, realizing she doesn't have to hide it anymore
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]
˓ minors pls dni ! i hope this gets to the right side of tumblr . .
˓ 𝑐𝑤 ﹕ crazy n obsessive ex gf jinx , femme!reader , stalking , kidnapping , forceful drug use , cnc , dubcon , knife n blood play , hair pulling , fingering , slapping , bruising , spit , praising , degradation . .
˓ 𝑤𝑐 ﹕1.7k
˓ 𝑎𝑛 ﹕ i apologize for how long this took to finish . . my sleep schedule is wack , finally got my ipad so i have been drawing lots n ugh there’s so much drama going on . . anyways , i really hope this is okay n i did proofread but it is 1 am so if there’s spelling n grammar mistakes i will fix it in the morning !
˓ 𝑠𝑑𝑡 ﹕ @dolirust missing uuuuu !!
leaving your old town was the only decision you could make to escape your past , to escape her.
a fresh start was something you craved , n this gloomy , desolate place seemed like the perfect fit.
you started to adjust to this new life. a new job , picking up old hobbies , decorating what you thought would be your forever home.
n although you were happy , you never quite felt safe. since you arrived you’ve always been on high alert. checking over your shoulder when you’re walking alone , sticking to large crowds in open settings , testing each lock on your doors n windows before bed , staying private on all social media.
‘there’s no way she’ll find me . .’ you told yourself , n you believed it.
♡
your shift ran way longer than expected , the streets empty n quiet. the tall lamps flicker , barely illuminating the darkened sidewalks.
you’re wearing a skirt n sweater paired with thigh highs n boots. you didn’t plan on leaving this late , n it’s much colder than before.
you look down at your phone , headphones on , completely oblivious. thinking back on it now , you should’ve been more careful.
you decide to take a shortcut to your neighbourhood through a poorly lit alleyway. as you walk , you try to ignore your gut feeling that something is wrong.
it’s murky , industrial pipes creaking above your head. fog hovers low above the ground , obscuring the muddy puddles hidden beneath the mist.
an abrupt , loud crash snaps your head around , your heart rate immediately picking up. you stumble backwards , keeping your gaze locked on the shadows where the noise came from.
blind to your surroundings , your back suddenly collides with something , someone. you turn , eyes widening. ‘m so sorry!’ you sense something isn’t right , n it doesn’t help that you can’t see whoever you’ve just run into.
‘i- i didn’t mean to bump into you . . i think there’s something-‘ you’re cut off by a sharp pain that spreads through your neck , your vision blurred , words slurring , then everything goes black.
♡̶
a pounding sensation behind your eyes slowly lulls you out of the groggy state you were forced into , your arms n legs bound together.
you look around the room , trying to figure out where you are. you’re in some abandoned building by the shattered glass , piles of filth , n vandalized concrete walls.
‘mmph . .’ you whine , wiggling against the restraints. your wrists are sore , the rope cutting into them.
‘you’re finally awake.’ your heart drops , you recognize that voice from anywhere. she steps into view , her long braids swaying with every step.
‘j-jinx . . ?! n-no .. please- why are you doing this ?’ you whispered , those unsettling neon pink eyes of hers meeting yours. she leans down , a smug smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
‘don’t you get it?’ her finger traces along your jaw. you flinch n pull away , goosebumps rising up your neck. her hand grips the back of your hair , forcing you to look at her. ‘we’re meant to be together.’
you wince , holding back tears. ‘let me go.’ you mutter , sounding more like a beg than a demand. she chuckles , pulling her knife out of her pocket.
‘i’m gonna give you a 2-minute head start to run from me.’ the blade pushes between the rope , freeing your hands. ‘n when i catch you , i’m gonna use you in every way i please.’ the binds around your ankles fall which prompts jinx to move aside , then she slowly begins counting.
‘one , two , three , four . .’ you can barely process what she’s just said as you struggle to stand up , the side effects of whatever drug she gave you making you feel dizzy n confused. you push through it , hurrying out of the room quickly. her voice echoes as you start to run down the long hallway , glass shards cracking underneath you with every step.
you turn the corner , another long hallway. you hear her crazed laughter , you know she’s coming. almost all the doors are boarded up , debris blocking the stairs.
‘mm- shit!’ you frantically look around searching for an escape to get away from her.
a half-open door catches your eye n you hurry inside , closing it behind you. you’re met with concrete stairs , unsure of where they lead. but you go down them , her footsteps only getting closer.
‘can’t wait to catch you.’ she giggles. she’s moving quicker , clearly using shimmer to her advantage.
you’re met with yet another dark hallway , a red light flashing every few seconds. you continue to run , your legs feeling weak.
the lack of light causes you to trip , falling down onto your stomach. you crawl forward , desperately trying to get up , but she catches up to you , hovering over you like the prey that you are.
‘hm! that was fun , i win.’ she forces your hands behind your back , tying them together with that same rope from before. it stings , the skin still raw. she roughly grabs you , dragging you to your feet. she leads you further down the hall . . n her grip on your arm is so tight you know it’ll leave a bruise.
‘knew you’d go this way , made sure you would.’ it’s sadistic how much she’s enjoying this , n you’re starting to feel hopeless.
‘p-please . . don’t-’ you whine , which earns you a chuckle in response. ‘i told you , i’d have my way with you whether you like it or not.’
as you turn the corner , she unlocks one of the doors with a key. she shoves you inside , closing it behind her.
her body pushes against your back , pinning you against the wall. your little whimpers are music to her ears , her hands lifting your skirt.
‘mmph- jinx . .’ she runs a finger over your clothed cunt , chuckling at the damp spot. ‘you’re enjoying this , huh?’ you want so badly to deny it . . but the thrill of her chasing you , tying you up . . you nod , looking at her with puppy eyes.
she slides your panties down , your slick sticking to your inner thighs. ‘look atchu , so fucking pathetic.’ she taunts , her fingers finding their way between your folds.
‘mmh . .’ you wiggle your hips against her fingers , trying to gain any kind of friction. ‘so eager.’ she pulls out her knife , your doe eyes widening at the sight. she moves the handle to your mouth , titling her head.
‘open , get it nice n wet for me.’ you part your lips , tongue swirling around the hilt. ‘just like that.’ drool spills from the edges , clinging to your chin as you continue coating her knife with your spit.
when she’s satisfied , she removes it slowly , muffling a groan with a smile. her free hand pulls your waist toward her , your face still pushed against the cement wall.
‘hmph- what’re you doing . .’ she loves your confused whines , lining up the handle with your leaking hole. ‘just shut up n take it.’ she slams it inside you , making you mewl. ‘ngh! f-fuck!’
she holds the blade in her bare hand , letting it cut into her skin. ‘yeah? god look at you . .’ blood drips from her hand onto the ground , staining her skin.
‘agh! y-you’re- bleeding . . mmph!’ you knew she was crazy , but this was a whole other level. ‘mhm . . feel good?’ you nod quickly , trying so desperately to hold yourself up.
‘ngh- m’ so- need . . mm!’ your pleas turn into babbles , n jinx is quite amused. ‘what do you need , hm?’ her free hand squeezes the skin on your ass before leaving a painful slap. ‘hmmph! m’ feels s’good- mmmh ..’ she chuckles , hand meeting your skin again. ‘know you need it , know you’ve been thinking of me since you left.’
you hate that she’s right. ‘mmph- n-no . . i- haven’t ..’ it’s pathetic how you try to lie while letting her use you in any way she wants. ‘hmm . . don’t lie to me.’ she slaps your ass again , the impact more intense than the last.
‘admit it.’ you wince , tears pricking your eyes. ‘ngh- m’ sorry- i have . . been-‘ you mumble , cutting yourself off with your choked up moans. ‘hm? you’ve been what?’ she slows down , that feeling you’re so needy for disappearing.
‘p-please! mmh!’ you squirm , voice cracking. ‘you’ve been what?’ she repeats herself , digging her nails into your hip. ‘been thinking about you . . everyday- i need you , p-please .. please-‘ she resumes fucking your little hole , those wines n babbles of yours filling the room again.
‘m- m’gonna cum . . mm! please-‘ she doesn’t stop , humming in approval as she kisses your arm. your cunt makes the nastiest sounds , forming a milky ring at the base of the handle. your legs begin to shake , that pretty mess of yours dripping down her knife. ‘fuck . .’ she groans , pulling it out of you agonizingly slow.
your chest moves up n down rapidly , eyes feeling heavy. ‘did so good for me . .’ she muffles your whimper with a kiss , n you feel her smile against you. when she pulls away , you whine in protest.
‘shh , be patient.’ she brings her knife to the rope around your wrists once more , slicing it through. your arms ache from being in that position for so long , the pattern indented on your skin.
you immediately turn your focus on her , hands cupping her face as you kiss her again. she drops her knife , the metal clinking against the floor. her bloody hand snakes around your neck , tongue invading your mouth.
she tugs on the bottom of your sweater , lifting it over your head. she slides her hands to your tits , smearing blood over your lacy bra.
‘i’ve fucking missed you-‘ she groans , kissing down your body while leaving bite marks here n there. she eventually gets on her knees , looking up at you with hunger n desperation in her eyes.
her hands hold both of your hips , positioning herself perfectly between your legs. she laps at your sweetness , her whines muffled by your pretty little cunt.
‘ngh- mmhm! d-don’t stop , mmh . . please-‘ you subconsciously grind against her mouth , your head thrown back. she had no plans on stopping. infact , she wanted to see how far she could push you.
she knows you’re getting close again , you’ve always been so easy. the knot in your stomach is overwhelming , your fingers tangled in her hair. ‘m’gonna cum again- mmph .. shit- ngh!’ you sob as your orgasm crashes through you , tears streaking down your pink cheeks.
you’re shaky , mascara smudged. jinx stands up , wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘you can’t get rid of me . . you know that , right?’
‘mmhm . .’ you nod , knowing there’s no way out of this. and honestly ? you don’t want it any other way. ‘good.’ she kisses your wet cheek , her thumb wiping the stray tears. ‘n if you try to leave . .’ she grabs your face , your lips pushed into a pout. you shake your head , batting your lashes at her. ‘knew you’d give up eventually.’
jinx’s fingers twirled within the strands of silky, curled hair that strayed from the rest, her movements careful. her expression was warm and soft as her eyes shifted across the delicate features of your face. she traced the curve of your cheek with her gaze, every detail entrancing her. it was a gentle, loving appearance that plastered her face as if you were the only thing worth being loved. her mind was always traced with the thought of you, every time she spoke, somehow, you were always the topic of conversation. your existence was woven into the fabric of her life, everything circling back to you no matter how hard she tried.
you lay curled against her, warmth radiating from your body as light snores escaped the lips she so desperately wanted to kiss in that moment. the tender beat of your heart against her side, a soothing rhythm.
tenderness overflowed her as she leaned closer, the familiar scent of your perfume filling her nose before she placed a soft kiss upon your forehead.
“wake up, sleepyhead,” she murmured, a smile curving her lips as she watched your eyes flutter open, a sleepy gaze meeting hers. she would cherish these moments, these little pieces of eternity, unconditionally.
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.
