[100% self-indulgent because I want to bite her]

CW: 0.8k, biting kink, tiny exhibitionism mention, suggestive

Men and minors do not interact

Powder is so soft. A sweet attitude with just the right amount of spunk. Her voice is a velvety rasp that drags at the end of sentences, caressing your ears with utmost care. Blue eyes gentle and attentive when they lend on you, crinkling at the sides, glittering with love. Her warm skin a milky spread dotted with light freckles like fading stars. She’s firm to the touch but melts in your hands like butter. Powder is a delight in human form.

Your favorite times are the late nights to early mornings in her hideout. When you’re too tired to walk back to The Last Drop and spend the night on her couch. An old and worn thing that sinks under your combined weights, pushing your bodies together. Her knitted comforter blankets your forms as you count the faded constellations on her face, feel her smile on your palms.

Her peach-colored lips juts towards you in a playful manner. You kiss the pout from her lips, tasting the faint waxy taste of her lip balm. You swallow her chuckles towards your eagerness, her smile now on your lips.

You target her cheeks next, soft, warm, round like puff pastries. The urge to bite them grows but you push back for now, swallow it down like a bite that’s too big. You kiss your way to her neck, breathing in the faded perfume, the syrupy, sticky notes of vanilla glazing her skin. Your mouth waters, the heady mix of her making your head reel with need. Powder sighs, tilting her head back, loving hands sliding under your shirt. She urges you closer as you push your face in the hollow of her throat mouthing at her skin, trying to satiate your growing appetite.

 Her laugh is a sugary, contagious thing. You lean in to kiss her again, satisfying all five of your senses to the point of overload. Powder hums approvingly, pressing her body to yours.

“More, more…” She whines, grasping at your skin, holding your face to her throat.

The small kitten licks at her neck rush electrifying sparks straight to her core. She spreads her legs, wrapping them around your hips. Powder arches off of you, her body sinking deeper onto the weak couch. The sharp sting of your teeth makes her gasp and moan loudly, taking you both by surprise.

 You look up immediately, ceasing your ministrations. She looks back at you, curious, stunned. Aroused. Then, she smiles shyly, squishy cheeks blushing. You smile back at her, just as eager and timid.

“Do that again.” She encourages you gently.

She doesn’t hide her pleasure when you bite her again, the surprise now replaced by the bliss and exhilaration of discovering something new about you and herself. The tender clasp of your teeth on the side of her neck quickly turns her into a molten ambrosial mess underneath you. You drift lower, to her chest, pushing open her vest top and biting the sides of her perky breasts, taking them in your mouth. You taste the soft skin of her stomach, feel the fat of her hips between your front teeth, lapping at the creamy softness that constitutes her. Powder tastes just as sweet as she feels. She’s tender in your mouth, angling herself to your liking, catering to your appetite as you feed her own.

You learn that Powder has a full set of sensitive areas for you to map out and discover with your teeth. Her right shoulder, the inside of her elbows, her upper thighs, her lower back, the back of her legs... And she always pushes you to keep going, your name in her mouth like candy. Powder loves how gentle you are despite the rough nature of the act. Patient and careful.

But a part of her, and you too, wishes to go further sometimes, just enough to break skin, just a bit far, for you kiss it better. Her eyes glow with unrestrained lust when you bite harder than usual, dipping both of your fingers into darker territories. You freeze just before, drooling on her skin, your love for her keeping you at bay, and yet, when you gaze at her, at her expectant face, you could almost see it, her need that whispers you to keep going.

Powder loves when you bite her. She stares at her naked figure in the mornings, twirling in front of the mirror counting all the different marks you’ve left on her. Her fingers trace over the shape of your teeth, reminiscent.

Powder gets bold sometimes, wearing clothing that reveals just the right amount of skin to display her marked throat; sometimes short shorts when you’ve left your imprint on her thighs.

She makes herself obvious to you, eyeing your mouth when you speak, when you smile. She swipes her thumb across your teeth right after she kisses you, “do you want to bite me?” she asks warmly, her nose hitting yours.  

 [Becoming niche film director Jinx’s muse]

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]

ꨄ︎˚࿔ toxic bsf!powder x fem!reader.      manipulation, obsession, suggestive.     

everyone always talks about how sweet of a girl powder is. they say it like it’s a fact, something undeniable. you’ve never doubted it for a second because she‘s always there no matter what, lets you ramble about nonsense for hours and listens like every word out of your mouth is precious, she laughs at your jokes even when they’re not that funny, and overall is the best friend one could ever have. that’s considering everyone else would still see powder’s actions as just friendship, which isn’t that likely, because you might be a little too naive to notice the lingering motive underneath all her kindness.

Jinx X Reader: You joined an all-women fighting & self-defense club.

[I watched Bottoms again, that montage of them fighting woke me right the fuck up.]

CW: Modern setting, roughhousing, playfighting, real fighting, blood, adrenaline junkie?? Smut: rough sex, sex-fighting, scissoring, semi-public, blood licking, no dom/bottom everybody aggressive. All characters are adults.

[This work contains elements of dubious consent (then full consent) and violent behaviors from both parties. All interactions are meant to remain fictional, purely for entertainment purposes and should not be taken in a real-life context. You are responsible for your own consumption on the internet.]

Men and minors do not interact.

A fist abruptly smashes your nose, screams rise around you, words of encouragement and rage, a low murmur against the pounding of your head. On top of you, she smiles wide and proud.

You woke up this morning with the notification that your package had arrived. The mailbox held the small, carefully wrapped parcel sitting on top of the growing pile of flyers. You take the package in one hand and the fistful of ads to throw them in the trash. You miss one which slips from the letterbox to the floor. Women’s fight club. You’re intrigued. You’ve received all kinds of adverts to join different clubs and organizations, but none of them seemed interesting. But the eye-catching design makes you pause; the faded black and neon colors, all written in graffiti style. The main picture in the middle is one of a womanly silhouette in a fighting stance with her leg raised up mid kick. You bend down to take it and rest it flat on the carboard box.

You observe the picture in more detail, the open box abandoned on the floor next to you and a half-eaten toast in your other hand. [Ladies only, Germs out, beat ass and get your ass beat. Thursdays at 7PM, E2 Gymnasium.] A chuckle leaves your lips at the audacious statement. You flip the page to see it blank with only a few words at the bottom, [“Pussy up and join.”]. You’re intrigued by the boldness and the lack of information, there’s no mail or phone number, just the time and place. It’s tomorrow.

College started two months ago and so far, your social calendar is pretty empty. You went to a college party during the first week and quickly realized it wasn’t your scene; you’ve made a few acquaintances but nothing substantial. Most students here make friends through their clubs. It’s worth a try, could be a good bonding experience.

You stand in front of the building, hesitation gnawing at your decision. You had much more assurance yesterday, but now, a wave of nervousness crawls up your throat. You can’t fight for shit, what if it’s filled with girls with experience already? You notice in the distance a duo of girls walking inside the building, presumably for the same thing as you.

“Okay, you got this.”

The gymnasium is fuller than you expected, around fifteen girls, dispersed in the room in small groups and talking amongst each other. They all turn to you, the murmurs going down. A few seconds later, their conversations starting again once they realize you’re not the teacher.

You stand awkwardly in one corner, looking around the gym. Next to you, a girl sits on a high pile of stacked foam blocks. She’s wearing an oversized black hoodie, one leg folded against her body, chin resting on her knee. She’s scrolling on her phone with an air of boredom. She turns her head suddenly towards you, making you look away immediately.

The door opens and two young women walk inside; you immediately tell by their attitude that they’re the teachers. One has red hair, left side shaved, longer strands reaching her shoulder blade; she wears a white skintight tank top that highlights the muscles of her arms with tight black pants. The woman next to her is tall and thin, her figure packed with lean muscles, her long navy hair tied in ponytail.

“Hello everyone! Can I get you all in a circle, please?” The red-haired girl waves around, encouraging the girls to come.

Everyone looks at each other with curiosity, all standing in a big circle with the two women in the middle.

“I’m Vi. I am a second-year student in the wrestling program and I’m twenty-three years old.” The red head presents herself, her expression kind. She twirls slowly as she talks to consider everyone present, her gaze warm.

The second woman gives a nod and takes a step forward. “My name is Caitlyn; I am twenty-four and in my third year in political science.” Caitlyn turns, looking at every individual present. Her eyes are attentive.

“Self-defense is a necessary skill that everyone, especially young women should learn. With this club, we strive to make you stronger and safer. Some of you may already be familiar with the concept, others may already have experience, we adapt to all levels. We’ll teach the basics regarding self-defense and how to protect yourself in different dangerous situations every Thursdays, and the Saturdays will be more focused on learning fighting tactics. Any questions?” Vi looks around with a smile.

“Are we going to get beat up?” A shy voice asks.

Everyone turns to the source; a girl of short stature, wearing a pair of capris and a sweater. She looks around with big eyes, shrinking under the attention.

Vi shakes her head. “No, of course not. I’ll be honest, there will be a bit of tussle, especially during the fighting classes but we will always remain careful, and you’re not obligated to participate in those. The self-defense classes are enough on their own. Our goal is to teach and not to harm.”

“But…the flyer says that we will get beat up.” Another girl adds.

Vi and Caitlyn consult each other silently, looking equally confused. The taller woman tilts her head, pushing her lips out in a mimic that only the red head understands, she lets out a small sigh.

“Apologies for that, it’s just a catchy saying used on the leaflet, do not worry, no one is getting beat up.”

Vi tilts her neck, looking far behind her. You follow her gaze to see the blue haired girl sitting at the very back. As if she feels the stare, she looks up from her phone. Vi gives her a head tilt. The bluenette shakes hers. Vi does it a second time, the mysterious girl sighs loudly and kicks herself off the foam blocks, walking towards the circle. Vi faces you back with a smile, she brings her hands together in a clap.

“Alright, let’s start with the basics. Everyone, introduce yourself, name, age and major, you’re free to share your motivations for joining this club as well if you wish.”

They go through to each student clockwise; you congratulate yourself for not stuttering. It stops at the latecomer. She rolls her eyes, looking away from her phone, shoving it into the large center pocket of her sweater.

“Jinx, engineering.” She says simply.

Vi looks at her silently.

“21.” She adds after a beat.

You look at her, intrigued. She looks utterly bored and even slightly annoyed. You can tell by the silent interactions she’s having with Vi that they know each other. Her gaze drifts aimlessly around the room until she makes eye contact with you. You’re simply observing her with an open expression, she raises an eyebrow coldly. You look away.

The class starts; both Caitlyn and Vi are good teachers, they pay attention to each student and are very patient. While one uses a mannequin to show which moves to use when restrained, the other walks outside the circle to check if each girl does the movement correctly, taking turns doing it. You can’t help but be impressed by their harmony, the two girls obviously know each other well by the way they go through the motions without exchanging a single word.

“It’s been two hours already; we’re going to end the class for today. So far, you all seem to be on the same level, which is good, you understood the exercises well. Next week, we’ll keep on the restraint resistance but in groups this time. Remember, we have another, more fighting centered, class on Saturday, don’t hesitate to join us if you’re interested.”

You walk back to the other side of the room to grab your backpack next to the bleachers. You catch a bit of conversation between Vi and Jinx.

“…really not necessary.”

“It was funny, come on, they didn’t actually think you’d beat them up.”

Jinx notices your gaze and looks at you from where she is, causing Vi to turn to you and catching your eyes. You smile thinly and wave. She returns the gesture, waving back.

Another week of classes finishes, and you plan on enjoying your weekend doing absolutely nothing. As you walk back inside your place, you see the leaflet still sitting on your small table. Every Thursdays and Saturdays… Fighting wasn’t necessarily something you thought you’d be interested in, but the two girls are really nice and learning a new skill is always useful. And it’s not an engagement anyways, you could only satisfy your curiosity once and not come back.

You wake up the next day abruptly, checking the time, scared to have missed your alarm. You’re not used to waking up this early on Saturdays, you work part-time at a small bar next to the campus on weekends, so the days are for lazing around. Not today, however.

The room is significantly less full than earlier this week. You recognize some faces; you wave at them as you take a place in the circle. Vi and Caitlyn are in the middle, explaining what the first exercise will consist of. Behind Caitlyn, you notice Jinx, part of the circle and with a much more attentive expression than the last time you saw her. She’s also wearing a pair of dark joggers and a tight black top. Without the large clothing, you now notice how long her hair is, falling down her back in two braids, dangling on the sides of her waist.

“To start, I’m going to show you how to hit properly without hurting yourself.” Vi’s voice brings you back into focus.

The burly woman raises her closed fist.

“Never put your thumb on the inside of your fist, because when you’re punching you could break it, put it on the outside instead, across your fingers, like this.”

You close your hand into a fist, copying her gesture. She observes the other girls following her hands.

“Good. Now, you have to keep a firm, closed hold, never loosen your grip because your assailant can grab your hand and it will break. Know which hand is your dominant one and use this one if the other has a weaker hold.”

You watch Vi with a bit of admiration as she goes into a fighting stance, her muscles tensing, her gaze focused on an invisible point in front of her, no longer looking at the others.

“Keep your legs spread, wider than the width of your shoulders, you have more chances of hitting right if you’re sideways than facing them. Arms bent but leaning out, not too close, keep your dominant hand out and the other closer to your face to protect.”

A gentle hand rests on your lower back, surprising you.

“Lean a bit.” Instructs Caitlyn. “Arms closer, tightens your fists. Good.”

Vi throws her most forward arm in one strong, quick movement, sharp exhale leaving her lips at the same time.

“Now, you won’t always think to do it, but control your breathing for the first punches, exhale out and inhale back into protection, it’s easier to throw a whole punch when you do, inhaling constrict your chest.” She stays in focus for a few seconds before slowly getting back into a standing position.

You see the slight glow in her eyes, slowly fading as she faces you and the others again.

“Me and Cait are going to check your throws and then we’ll move to making the groups.”

Your technique is good according to them; you’re just missing a bit of strength. You train with the other girls, as a duo each time, throwing punches at each other without touching. Jinx comes in front of you, slightly out of breath, a few rogue hairs clinging to her forehead. She doesn’t say anything and simply gets in position, you do the same thing. She stares at your stance up and down, which doesn’t fail to make you slightly self-conscious, the moment your eyes divert from her, you feel the wind of her punch on the side of your face. When she catches your eyes again, she’s snickering.

“Tsk, tsk, focus.”

You frown and mimic her maneuver, throwing a punch in her direction. She nods and then walks away from you to the next girl. You follow her with your eyes.

The remaining time is focused on keeping an upright position and punching straight.

“We’ll see each other next time guys, in the meantime try to practice your stance when you have the time. Please do not hurt yourself in the process, we are not responsible for any injuries caused outside of the class.”

As time goes by, you grow an attachment to the classes, learning not only to defend yourself but trusting your body more. It even made you feel more confident. Even more than confidence, fighting gives you a high you never felt before. Perhaps it’s the adrenaline, or the being cheered on by so many girls when you win or lose, perhaps it’s witnessing your pain tolerance getting higher; the Saturday classes quickly became something you look out for. The bruises have even started to make you proud. You’ve made a few friends and got along with most of the girls. Except Jinx.

You’re not sure what’s wrong with her, she makes snide remarks towards you quite often, she stares at you like you owe her something and, you’re pretty sure she goes extra hard when she’s training with you. The image of her all tense, her muscles flexing, eyebrows frowned in focus, the glint in her eyes when she raises her fists towards you... It’s a sight that has become familiar. Jinx is a good fighter, not always a fair one, she’s quick on her feet, agile, surprisingly strong for someone her size.

“I’m not even sore anymore, and I feel so strong now, I joke to my partner about being able to take them.” One of the girls jokes, bringing you back to reality.

Vi’s clapping gathers everyone’s attention in the center of the room.

“Okay guys, break’s over. We’re going to do things a bit differently now.”

Everyone stands in a line, attentive. You look at the others, curious about the announcement. Jinx, standing at the edge looks at you, she always manages to catch your gaze, no matter for how long you’ve been looking. It’s a bit creepy. She gives that pretentious smirk again and mouths something to you. What was that?

Vi comes back with a punching bag on a stand, rolling it in the middle of the room.

“We’re going to start the actual fighting in groups now. But before that,” Caitlyn turns to her girlfriend who’s holding a red plastic box. “Everyone will take a pair of bandages for your hands and then punch in the bag.”

“Fighting wise, we only do what we’ve practiced, the basic punch, and always aim for the jaw, not the face or the top of the head. No kicking, scratching or anything of the sort. Just the punches.”

After punching as hard as you can on the boxing bag, you shake off the tension in your wrist. The bandages are tight around your forearms, keeping everything in place. You notice Jinx again, she’s sitting on the floor at the very back, wrapping her bandages.

The rule is, the first successful punch wins. You watch each duo go at each other, ducking, shifting sideways and attempting to hit first. As your turn approaches, you feel the excitement grow, heart quickening in your chest and breathing becoming a bit shallow. You win the first two rounds, even surprising yourself.

Jinx stands in front of you in a cropped, dark, wife beater and a pair of loose shorts, showing off the slight abs and toned thighs. She smirks at you, noticing the excitement in your eyes, your pupils dilated from the high only adrenaline can give you. In that moment, it feels as if she’s fully taking you in, no condescension in her eyes, but a quiet focus instead. You punch straight away, she ducks. You try a second time; she shifts on the side. You’re still leaning forward in the act, Jinx slides back in front of you, you fingers coming in contact with her left shoulder for a millisecond before she punches hard enough to send you back a few steps until you fully lose your balance. Pain spreads on the side of your face, the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth, dripping from your lips. Clapping rises around you, it takes you a few seconds to regain full awareness, head spinning when it hits the floor. You don’t know how long you stay down, but it’s long enough for Vi to help you stand back up, holding the back of your head.

“Hey.” She holds you firmly by the shoulder to keep you from falling back again. The ringing in your ears takes a minute to completely wane off. “Can you hear me okay? No black spots in your eyes?”

You walk back to the line, still a bit lightheaded. Vi gives a pointed look to her sister, Jinx shrugs, poking her tongue out.

After the first matches are over, the winners are put in a separate line for the semifinals. You notice Jinx doesn’t participate, to everyone’s surprise including her own sister who watches her leave the gymnasium. A feeling dawns on you as you stare at the door slowly closing.

Caitlyn comes to you at the end of the class, lending you an ice pack. She smiles kindly, her tone soft.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.”

The left side of your face from your cheekbone to your jaw is sore, but nothing feels broken, and you’re still conscious. She nods attentively, keeping her eyes on your head.

“We’ll take you to the infirmary, it’s procedure.”

You nod. Jinx doesn’t come back for the rest of the class.

 The bruise heals rapidly, fading into a yellowish patch. The brutality didn’t deter you, quite the opposite. Fighting with Jinx gives you a rush; she keeps you on your toes, shifting just out of focus only letting you graze her cheek with your hand. How you caught her eyes gleaming when you get too close. It’s almost unhealthy, the way you wait for it each week, you wonder if she does too. She’s not your friend and you’re not hers, but every time you fight her, she turns into the most important person in the room. She leaves you tingling all over, heart pounding and out of breath. You wonder if it’s the same for her. You started paying closer attention to her, watching her reactions in class. She catches your gaze often but never says anything about it. She always looks bored on Thursdays and happier on the weekends. Just like you, she’s grown addicted to the adrenaline of a good fight, not knowing which side she’ll get attacked next sends a rush like no other.

Jinx doesn’t expect anything from anyone except from you. And she’s been expecting it from the beginning, when she recognized the craving in your eyes, the afterglow on your face at the end of the class. You didn’t even notice it at first, staring at her like some expectant animal, eyes blown like a predator in the wild. She was more skilled than you and she knew it, she could’ve been gentler, Vi warned her about it. Yet she couldn’t resist the way you pushed her, how you mirrored so well the very high she’s felt this whole time.

For the first time, Caitlyn and Vi are late. You stand in the gymnasium with the others, waiting for them. You take notice of how the group has dwindled as the weeks have gone by. The self-defense class got fuller, but a few girls left the fighting classes once they knew how to throw a good punch. You notice Jinx at the back of the room, like she often is, on her phone, ignoring everyone else. Her hair is down today, disorganized strands covering the top part of her face. She quickly looks up from her phone and does a double take when she sees you. She holds your gaze, the shadow of a smirk appearing on her face. You watch as she stands up and makes her way over to you.

“You want a picture?”

“Sure, I’ll put it on the punching bag for some fuel.” You quip back.

Her smile widens. “Go ‘head, get consolation where you can, soft paws.”

“What did you call me?”

“You can close your fists real nice, but you have no punch.”

“My punch is really good, actually.”

“Fruit punch, maybe.”

“I can throw a good one, and you know it.”

“Do I?”

You turn to her fully this time. She smiles with an air of defiance.

“Why, you want to taste it right now? We’re in the right place.”

“Not craving any caresses at the moment.”

The provocative tone doesn’t fail to rile you up. She’s been doing this for weeks now, taunting you, mocking your strength, yet keeps picking fights with you. And you give it into it, willingly. The now common rush of adrenaline shoots up in your system like a drug.

“Sounds like you’re scared.” You lean towards her, seeing her pupils dilate further.

“Of what? A declawed kitty?”

You punch her. Not too hard, but strong enough to make her reel back a few steps. Silence falls in the room, the other students stunned by what they saw. Jinx puts a hand on her cheek, rubbing the skin now tender. She winces, and for a moment, you feel guilty. What has gotten into you? But Jinx looks back up with a feral glint in her eyes and charges at you.

She punches once, then twice; you barely have time to react by how fast she is. When you lose your balance, she grabs your arm and throws you on the padded floor instead. You duck just as she’s about to give another punch, Jinx quickly slides on your left and grabs your arm, folding it behind you. Her body presses against your backside and you can feel her rugged breathing on your nape. Adrenaline is rushing through you, and you kick her in the shin, wrapping your arm around her own to twist her back in front of you, and admonishes her another blow. The other girls have encircled you, some confused about whether they should stop it, others fascinated by the brutal display. Jinx doesn’t hit you with her full strength, she’s drawing it out. Her act insults you and your anger rises disproportionately fueled by the ever-present tension.

“Come on!” You shout, the remnant of self-control slipping.  

That reaction riles up the rest of the room who start screaming as well, some rooting for Jinx, others for you. Jinx leans forward ferociously, her hands grab your shoulders, pushing you backwards. The shock is evident on your face when she falls down with you, sitting on your lower stomach. Your reflex is to push her off, she slaps your arm away, smiling devilishly. The broken chuckle that falls from your lips when you avoid her punch turns nearly hysterical when she mimics you, raspier. She grabs your face in one hand and punches you in the face, her ass pressing on your pubic bone. It burns but doesn’t erase the smile. A fist abruptly smashes your nose, screams rise around you, words of encouragement and rage, a low murmur against the pounding of your head. On top of you, she smiles wide and proud.

Jinx is suddenly lifted off you, the absence of her weight leaving an empty feeling. Your face burns, too heavy to lift it right away. But your hear voices, feminine voice vociferant, it’s Vi’s. Caitlyn helps you get back up, keeping you in a seated position.

“Where’s she.” You try to stand up; she doesn’t let you. “Come on let me at her, I had it.”

“That’s enough.” Caitlyn seizes you back, the firmness of her tone shutting you up.

A door slams in the distance. Vi walks over to you, she looks at your face with a defeated expression.

Diagnostic is, you’re lucky she didn’t break your nose. The bruises have started to form on your face, shoulders and your arm, your lower lip split and crusting with dried blood. Vi asked you what happened, you simply told her you were practicing with Jinx, and she looked at you like you grew another head.

You forced yourself to stay sat the whole through the examination, keeping quiet about Jinx, holding back questions and mostly appearing wounded. Truth being that the adrenaline still didn’t go down and now your mind spins with the need to let it out.

“Go home and rest, I’m serious. And take it slow for now.” Vi tells you.

You give her a brief nod and walk away. Caitlyn comes next to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. They watch you leave without saying anything more but exchange a long look after.

Of course, she’s not in the gymnasium anymore. It’s locked. And on a Saturday, no one is around here anyways, most students out or probably towards the library. Your hands shake with restlessness, eyes searching all around for her. You stop in front of the locker room. The small building with chipped paint and a sink that doesn’t work. The only one that hasn’t been renovated yet. You’ve gone inside a few times to change into sports clothes. Nothing much in there besides a row of screeching lockers and two benches pushed together. A light flickers from the small rectangular window at the very top.

When you walk in, your heart is pounding, deafening. It’s not a surprise to her here, your whole body has reaction regardless, electricity coursing through your veins. She lifts her head up slowly, looking at you from your shoes to your face.

“Knew you’d come.”

You raise an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

The defiance is automatic, but you still walk towards her as you say it. From where you stand, you see the slight bruise under her eye where you punched her, her hair is a mess, braids untightened from all sides, rogue hairs escaping from everywhere. Her blue eyes darkened by a violent need. She smiles.

“I messed you up good.” She hums.

“You got lucky, they arrived before I could give back.”

Jinx laughs, looking away from you. Her eyes glow in the white lighting. She stands up, face only centimeters away from yours. Her breath fans on your face.

“Stop consoling yourself and admit.”

“No.”

Her eyes widen in delight, then, she’s pushing you on against the lockers, the metal rattling. She keeps an arm flat on your collarbones, her knee pushing between your thighs to block you.

“I won. Every single time.”

You kick her and reverse the position.

“How come I still block you every time?”

Both of you are panting, the mutual hunger now unable to ignore. Jinx resists against you, trying to free herself from your grip but you press further, the struggle is evident in her face. The bluenette leans closer, her lips skim yours. Her eyes look into yours and she smashes her lips against yours with certainty. Your arm digs, now touching her shoulders, she grabs the back of your head, pushing her tongue deep inside your mouth. She’s relentless, bullying your mouth into submitting. When you answer back with the same energy, she bites your lip, making the blood gush out from the already present wound. She licks it voraciously, sucking in your lip and letting it go in a lewd popping sound.

Then Jinx pushes you back, the back of your knees hitting the wooden bench. Another shove and your body hit the wood. The weight of hers rests on top of you, pushing your arms back, clawing at the fabric of your clothes, scratching your arms and shoulders. You pull on the large T-shirt she’s wearing, until the fabric tears in the middle, exposing her milky skin to your eyes. Her eyebrows furrows in focus, slapping your hands away, rushing to take off your clothes first. You’re not letting her win this round, you push the pelvis upwards and pushes her off you, she lets out a small scream of surprise. This time you sit on her, pushing away the ruined fabric from her shoulders.

“Get off me!” She gesticulates under you.

You chuckle. “No.”

You reach for the elastic of her joggers, but Jinx grabs your arms, she doesn’t want to let you undress her first. She’s the one doing it, not the opposite. Arousal and annoyance battle in her body turning into something explosive. Instead of cooperating, she spreads her legs, hooking her thigh around your hips. The gesture takes you off guard long enough for her to switch the position again. Her knee is bent next to your hip, keeping you from moving away, your leg thrown over her thigh, she digs her nails into the fat of your other thigh, dragging you back against her. Jinx rubs herself on you, unabashedly moaning at the friction. You hook your fingers at the top of her pants, pulling them down with her underwear. She lets out a trembling moan at the gesture, you watch with fascination as her hips juts forward, searching for more contact, the muscles on her stomach flexing, hipbones shifting under skin. You notice the blue ink next to her pubic bone, shaped like a cloud, thighs tensing, the blue hairs at the apex of her thighs, hair darker in the middle, wet from her arousal.

“Fucking do s-something.” She snarls at you.

Jinx doesn’t give you the time to answer, ever in a rush. You let her remove your pants, giving her frustrated whimpers. She positions you harshly, scratching your legs with every movement she does, not bothering with apologies.

Her pussy collides with yours, making you both scream in pleasure. She small circles with her hips, desperately trying to find the touch that will make you lose your mind. Ragged breaths and choked moans come out of her lips, head thrown back and eyes closed, she focuses on the sounds coming out of you. She wants you to come first, she wants to rub it in your face that she can beat you in every way. You’ve gotten too used to her ways to not notice it. You grip her hips, pulling her closer to you and spreading your legs more. Jinx is too sensitive and pent up to hide her pleasure, moaning loudly, weakly attempting to remove your hands.

“Fuck you.” She pants.

“Back at you.”

You know she’s about to break because her body starts to shake, back arching, her lower body locking on yours. The sight brings you to the same edge as her, both of you fighting against the orgasm to watch the other come first. Jinx meets your eyes, a delirious edge in hers.

“I’m not- yo-you… fuck!”

Her stubbornness makes you laugh, even when you’re doing the same thing as hers. Her clitoris bump against yours, your mixed slickness rendering the touch soft and mind numbing. Your breath accelerates, stomach tensing as an effort to battle the final blow before your orgasm. Jinx watches with utter satisfaction, a breathless smile on her face as she starts catching up to you. Your screams merge into one, the pleasure heightening on the peak of the other. The orgasm wracks through you like a tsunami; Jinx trembles on top of you, body dangling as if she’s only held by the maddening bliss. You angle her back down on the bench, resting on top of her, hips moving in slower circles, grasping onto every bit of the rush. Jinx doesn’t fight back this time, her calf rests against your butt, holding you close, she wraps her arms around your shoulders, gazing deep into your eyes with her half-lidded ones. Your moans have been reduced to small gasps, panting against each other, utterly dependent on each other’s pleasure.

Your bodies rest on top of each other in a mess of sweat, slick and satiated appetite. You absent-mindedly play with a strand of blue hair as she traces patterns on your shoulder with her nail.

“You came first.” She mumbles; her voice softened into a raspy teasing.  

“Uh no, you did, I saw it.”

“You didn’t see shit.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Not with the way those eyes rolled back, soft paws.”

You pinch her waist, she huffs.

“I should give you my number.” Jinx concludes, nosing at you hair. “Can’t have you believe in those delusions.”

“Loser streak?” You taunt.

“For you.”

Mean!Jinx and Submissive, people pleaser (or Jinx pleaser) reader.

TW: Petting, groping, degradation, dirty talk, smut. Jinx is frustrated and very mean. All characters are adults. Men and minors do not interact thank yew!  

Jinx leans down, her fingers gripping the pliers as she very gently pushes the red wire back in place. She only needs to add two more and the bomb will be finished. It’s a new prototype. One that’s supposed to be even more lethal. She bites her lower lip in focus, her goggles thrown haphazardly on her forehead, pressing on her brow bone in an irritating manner. She has to finish this today. She’s been working on this new prototype for weeks now. It took her way too long for her liking to find right combination of materials to create an impressive explosion. She just wants to be done with it to finally test it out. Perhaps on some firelights.

But today isn’t her day it seems. First off, she broke her favorite pliers and had to use the older ones that have started to rust and clack obnoxiously when she opens them. Silco is rushing her to finish this. She has a big mission tomorrow night. And then there’s you. Some new girl who popped out of nowhere. You don’t do much besides the menial safe keeping tasks. Apparently, you’re good at mapping or whatever that means. You’re so fucking oblivious. It’s annoying, would-be straight infuriating if you weren’t so useful. All the little things Jinx asks you to do, you obey. Why? She truly has no idea, but you don’t represent a threat to her, so she doesn’t mind using what’s been put in front of her. It all started when she mentioned being hungry once and not even an hour later you came with fried squid. You’re weird. But obedient. Even with the most ridiculous tasks. Which brings her to the next little thing that’s about to make her lose her patience: your breathing.

The small, panicked pants that leave your mouth as you struggle to hold the box she told you to. Truth is, you could’ve put it next to her. But then it would mean you’d sit beside her, way too close for comfort. Why do you always sit so close anyway? And with that strange, not at all enjoyable, cloying, sweet smell. You speak in that soft voice every time you’re with her. Janna, you’re so annoying. Jinx huffs to herself. “Focus dammit.” Her digits whiten at the pressure on the warm metal as she leans again, this time adding in the new wire.

You stand behind her, the large wooden box in your arms. It’s filled with screws and other rogue pieces Jinx might need for her tinkering. Your arms slightly shake under the weight of it, hands probably marked by the sharp corners by that time. She insisted on you holding it, if she ever needed something, she’d come to you. You couldn’t refuse her. You like helping her. Or maybe you just like her. It’s pathetic, really. Because you know she finds you annoying, you’ve caught the way she’d roll her eyes when you speak too long, heard her cackles when Silco would reprimand you.

Her back is tense, arms barely moving, like a statue. You know she has to be paying attention to her bomb and not you, but the box is really getting heavy. Feet firmly planted onto the ground, spread for more balance, you shift the weight of all those materials from one arm to the other but it’s getting more difficult to keep quiet. Your breath is shaky, eyes still fixed on her, just in case she spares you a look telling enough for you to let go of the box. But she doesn’t.

“Can I, just let go for-”

“No.”

Shit.

Finally. That red wire almost didn’t go in. The bluette breathes out. One left. She pinches the small green wire between the pliers, firm but delicate again. Her eyes refocus on the full steel bomb. She turns on the welder and puts a small, melted dot on each side of the wire. She huffs again; she has to be quick. Jinx freeze, staring down at the full mechanism. It follows the same formula, but with three explosions instead of one, it’ll be good, it’ll work, it always works.

A small sound makes her pause. She hears your breathing. Way too loud. And with the audacity of sounding plaintive.

“Stop that.” She utters through her teeth.

“Sorry.”

She tunes out your words, back to the bomb. The welding dried off. Jinx groans, grabbing the welder roughly a second time and melting the metal back on each side of it.

“If I mess this up, I’m kicking you out.” She simply says, not even turning.

Your eyes widen at her words, then nodding energetically. Just one last effort. She’ll be done soon, hopefully.

You don’t mean to. It was purely accidental. You were too busy watching her to notice the box leaning to the side. By the time you tilt the box on the other side, half its content already spilled on the floor in front of you, making both of you jump.

“Fuck’s sake!” Jinx snaps.

You jump a second time.

She slams the pliers onto the desk and shifts towards you. She looks enraged, frustration marking her traits, dark circles even more noticeable on her pale skin, hair messy, forehead shiny.

“I’m sor-”

“You can’t stay quiet for ten fucking minutes?”

You swallow thickly, not immediately answering. She looks pissed. You lower your head instead. It’s a mess on the floor. You immediately bend down to grab the screws in fistfuls to put them box in their box, extending your arms to grab as many as possible in the shortest amount of time.

You hear Jinx sighs, hyperaware of her presence. She throws something. The leather seat creak, the sound of her boots resonates in the now quiet environment. Just as you grab a screw, her boot appears next to your fingers. You look up at her. She stares down at you, eyes going up your face to your hands.

“I’m sorry, it was an accident. I’m picking it back up.”

“Why are you doing this?”

You blink. “Sorry?”

“You know what I mean.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Don’t tell me you don’t realize it, cause then you’re even dumber than I thought.”

“I’m just trying to h-help.”

“Bullshit. It’s a box of trash.”

What? You look down at the screws resting on your palm, after a closer observation, you notice they’re all damaged, burned, chipped, some even cut in half. Your eyes flies back up to Jinx with an incredulous expression. Why would she have you carry a box of useless screws?

Jinx lets out an airy chuckle of disbelief, tilting her head back and pushing her side bang.

“Woah, you are fucking stupid. How did you even get hired toots? They must’ve switched you with someone else by mistake.” She laughs at you.

For a moment, you don’t know what to answer. It didn’t even cross your mind that Jinx would have you hold this heavy box for nothing. Shame burns your face, heart racing in your chest. You drop the screws and stand up, suddenly very close to her. Jinx is caught off guard, and her eyes briefly widens, nostrils flaring. She frowns and takes a step back, putting distance between you two.

“Why would you even do that?” You ask her, choosing to ignore her reaction. You don’t stink, right?

She crosses her arms and shrugs. There’s a little smirk on her lips.

“It’s not my fault you’re dumb, toots. I didn’t force you to do shit.”

“So, you just do stuff like that, for what? Fun?”

Jinx cackles this time. “Duh.”

You frown, taking a step back. You knew Jinx could be mean, but it seems to hit harder this time. She simply looks at your discomfited face with a smirk. How oblivious can you be? It’s annoying but right now it’s kind of funny. Makes her want to push you more.

“Oh, did I make you go quiet? No more ‘Jinx, can I help?’, ‘Jinx, do you need anything’?” She takes on a high-pitched, girlish voice to mock yours, still laughing in your face.

She’s aware that she’s going too far, but you haven’t moved yet and you’re so easy to bother. Plus, she really needed to get some stress out of her system.

She takes a step closer, kicking one of the screws towards your shoe.

“Hey toots, don’t get too hurt now, I might get peck-ish in an hour or two.”

Jinx tilts her head to look at your face. She doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“You’re not actually gonna cry, are you? We’re too old for that.” She teases.

Your lack of answer bothers her. Are you seriously ignoring her, right now? That’s new. It’s not like she cares about you or your hurt feelings. It's just...boring.

Jinx takes another step closer to look at you. You face the opposite side when you notice it. Her eye twitch, she doesn’t like that. Since when are you defiant? Her hand grabs your chin, turning you back to her. Your eyes briefly meet; she’s staring into yours deeply before going all over your face. You can’t tell what she’s thinking, maybe trying to understand something or probably about to mock you again. You swallow thickly, her nostrils flare, her nails slightly dig into your skin. The sudden intimacy of the situation isn’t lost on either of you, but Jinx doesn’t comment on it. She’s too busy analyzing you instead.

“You really picked the most pathetic way to get my attention.”

The shock must be visible on your face because she gives the look of someone who isn’t fooled. Is it that obvious?

“I’m not.” You attempt to save face.

“No?”

Her hand grips your cheeks tighter, before she lets go and slides her sharp nails down your neck slowly, in feather light touches. She keeps her eyes on your face, watching your reaction. Her pointer drags along the shape of your collar. Your entire body is taut, holding back the embarrassing sound that threatens to leave your lips.

There’s a smug smile on her face when she notices the effect she has on you.

“You could tell me to stop.” She tilts her head mockingly.

You’re quiet. You probably should tell her to stop. She’s plain mean and was insulting you just a few minutes ago. But she also never looked at you like that before. Jinx drags her nails lower, digging into your shirt through your skin. Her hand reaches your breast and she pauses, thoughtful.

You’d probably do anything for her. You’re so stupid, so pathetic, so, so … She stares at your face as her hand closes around your breast. Not roughly at first, just out of curiosity. You let out a choked sound. … so amenable. Jinx squeeze tighter, the flesh constricted between her fingers, she wonders how soft you are under your clothes, how willing would you be to let her check.

She sees how hard you’re trying to hold it in, eyebrows pinched together, lips in a tight line, it’s oddly cute. She scrunches her nose at the thought, you, cute? A shaky breath passes through a small space between your lips. You might just be. Or she’s just on a power trip. She’s never been good at holding back her urges anyways.

She starts to pry more, going lower. Jinx takes her time with you, going over every piece of hidden skin, and suddenly grabs the side of your waist roughly; just to see you jump again. The smugness has turned into something lazy and fascinated. Her pupils are blown, eyes open wide, she makes sure not to miss anything.

“You’re so quiet now.” She breathes out.

Why is she out of breath, now? She’s not even doing anything. Jinx frowns, shaking her head when she takes notice of the wetness growing between her legs. There’s no way. With you? Seriously? Jinx snicker, proceeding with her exploration. When she touches your thigh, you gasp and whisper her name in rushed voice.

“Yeah?” She instigates. “This is what you’re into? Sheesh toots, you’re so pathetic.”

She has leaned closer to you, speaking against your cheek. She presses her nose to your skin for a short moment, taking a deep breath.

 “You can still push me away toots, you can step back, tell me to stop.” She murmurs. “Hm? You don’t want to?”

Her hand boldly slides between your thighs. Despite the fabric of your pants, you feel the warmth of her palm, her nimble fingers spreading your legs a bit. It hurts your ego to admit but it feels so good and you don't even want to move.

“Come on sweet girl, sweet, sweet, stupid, pathetic girl.” Her lips caress your cheek at each word.

Her palm presses between your legs with more energy, practically cupping the area. A small moan leaves your lips, your underwear stick to your skin uncomfortably as you’re soaking the fabric.

“You’re so desperate for my attention, now you have it and you won’t even look at me.”

Her last words make you turn to her. You didn’t expect her to look this pleased. Her heavy-lidded gaze mirrors your lust, bitten lips pulled into a small, lazy smile.

“There she is.”

You hold her gaze, your earlier embarrassment gone out the window the moment you saw her face. Soft pants are leaving your mouth as she rubs you through your pants. Her face is only centimeters away from yours, the tip of her nose almost touching yours, you inhale every breath she exhales. You want to break the distance badly and she knows it. But you’re so obedient that you simply enjoy the air she breathes for now. Her thumb pushes on the middle seam of your pants, digging, scooping for more of your delightful reactions. She gets exactly what she wants when you whimper, knees buckling, thighs closing around her hand. She tuts.

“Open.”

You obey. She flashes her teeth to you.

“So obedient, little helper.” Her middle and ring finger reaches the lower, folding upwards, mimicking the act of fingering you but simply pushing on the fabric. “You just needed someone to give a little something. You needed me, to give you a little something, hm?”

You give her a few quick nods, making her laugh and coo at you. The attention feels straight up degrading but oh, so addictive.

Jinx doesn’t relent, pushing and rubbing at your sex through your pants, her movements quickening to match your breathing. She keeps her eyes on you the entire time.

“You’re so easy to please. Just a bit of petting and you’re melting in my hand.”

You feel the tension rising in your body, breathing labored, you don’t want to come too quickly, trying to prolong her touch as much as possible. Your whimpers are like music to her ears, her focus only on you, her earlier frustration long forgotten.

“Come on sweet, show me how pathetic you become when you get what you want.”

She cups you possessively, other hand grabbing your ass to keep you from moving. Her thumb makes it way to your clitoris again through the clothes. A string of whines comes out of you, legs closing on her hand, entire body shaking.

You almost lose your balance, leaning heavily on Jinx, head on her shoulder. She wraps an arm around your hips, keeping her other hand between your legs, simply caressing you now.

thinking about au powder getting flushed whenever you call her “bunny.”

you’re only friends, and it is simply a lighthearted nickname that you have been calling her forever, and yet at some point, powder noticed certain reactions whenever she heard the nickname spill past your lips.

while washing dishes behind the bar, you crept up on her with a whispered: “hey, bunny.” in her ear, causing her to jump slightly as you laughed, boasting about how you “got her again.” luckily for her, you didn’t notice the blush that crept up her neck to her cheeks, and even if you had, surely you would have assumed that it was only due to the brief embarrassment of being frightened.

though, after you had retreated to clean up a few tables, distracted by chatting with mylo whilst you worked, powder had the perfect out. she cleaned herself up in a rush, hurrying upstairs to her bedroom and locking the door before leaning her back against her headboard, eagerly pushing down her overalls to her thighs.

closing her eyes forcefully, she attempted to will back the way your breath felt on the side of her neck, gripping onto the sound of each and every letter as you uttered that one word while she desperately rubbed her wetness over her swollen clit, her mind becoming completely absorbed by that one dumb nickname. powder can’t even pinpoint the exact moment when she began getting so worked up whenever you called her it, only that she wishes for you to never stop.

a.n : heres a lil crappy vision since its past 1 in the morning, im tired, and i haven’t posted an au powder fic in so long. she is so bunny though xo

i have this strong feeling that jinx is a messy kisser. and when i say messy i mean she's nasty and sloppy and she WILL basically fuck your mouth with her tongue bc why the fuck not.

she will swap spit with you in the nastiest way possible while pushing her tongue through your lips to touch yours, mixing your spit together even more than she did before. she will hold your neck and let bubbles and stripes of saliva roll down her tongue right on top of yours before she starts kissing you again. she'll also most definitely just push her tongue in and out of your mouth by moving her head just for fun, mostly because she thinks it's cute when you blush so hard when she does it. because it's so fucking messy and weird lol. she'll love sucking on your tongue as well and maybe if she's feeling generous she will let you bite her lip instead of just using you, but who knows??

Main pairing: DJ!Jinx x Reader

Contents: weddings, alcohol consumption, aborted attempts to hook up, family issues, ooc if you have a good relationship with ur mom, flirting, revenge, developing feelings, Jinx POV at the end

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: You want to sabotage your mother's wedding just a little and the DJ agrees to help, in exchange for a payment in kind. Except that things keep getting in the way and the longer the delay, the higher the interest.