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punk rock jinx !!

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i love just coming on here when i’m foaming at the mouth over jinx

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can’t stop looking at the swell of her hips somebody sedate me

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happy pride month lesbians <3

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I’M SALIVATING

Inspired by this BANGER!!!! Happy trail powpow:3 everyone. go read it. NYEEOWWWWWW!!!!!!

CW: eating cookie and Full here. enjoy the meal :p!!

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NEW THEME NEW THEME ‼️‼️‼️

the color palette looks so bomb i love what you did with it. feeling fresh?😩

THANK U BAE <333 yes i wanted to rep my fav league character (after jinx) miss fortune 🤭 im gonna need all the jinxnators to get into the bilgewater lore cause one of the new league shows is going to be about it and it’s 10000x cooler than piltover/zaun 😌

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because two is better than one

inspired by this art and @jinxhoe!! also powjinx is hot as fuck idgaf

content: nsfw, powder x jinx, selfcest (duh), top!powder, squirting

jinx doesn’t know what tore their world apart or stitched them together again. she thought everything with the arcane was dealt with. yet a couple weeks ago, while lounging in her hideout, she looked up and saw a girl with her old eyes staring back.

and with her face.

they got past the mindfuck quicker than they should’ve. a few awkward days, too many questions, not enough answers. powder stayed with jinx, just until they figured out how to send her back. that was the plan, anyway. jinx didn’t ask how it was going. she just kept watching her- well, watching herself- and wondering what she would feel like. taste like. she told herself it was morbid curiosity. a scientific itch. but that didn’t stop her.

powder’s fingers are smeared with grease and gunpowder when jinx kisses her. she doesn’t mean to kiss her. not really. but powder’s laughing at something dumb, her goggles pushed up, hair stuck to her cheek from sweat, and jinx can’t take it anymore.

she tastes like metal and sugar when their mouths crash. powder gasps, caught off guard, but doesn’t pull away. jinx crowds her against the worktable, hands already sliding under the hem of powder’s shirt, half-mad with need. powder grips her waist like she’s holding on for dear life. but then pulls back slightly.

“what-” powder breathes, caught between shock and heat. “what are you doing?”

jinx doesn’t answer right away. just stares, flushed and breathing hard, like she’s suddenly realizing what she started. powder’s hand doesn’t move at first. just rests there, low on her waist, thumb lightly brushing the inside of her hipbone, almost curious.

jinx twitches. exhales shaky through her nose. then powder drags her thumb deliberately along that spot she knows makes her own legs twitch. and sure enough, jinx shudders.

“you-” jinx gasps, eyes wide.

“of course i know that spot,” powder mutters. “i’m you.”

before jinx can fire back something sharp, powder flips them, pressing jinx’s back to the worktable.

powder’s mouth finds hers again, messier now, open and hungry. one hand cups jinx’s jaw. the other slips beneath her waistband, knuckles brushing the soaked heat between her legs.

jinx makes a sound she wasn’t expecting, a half gasp half moan, and grabs for the edge of the table.

“mmph- this is,” she breathes shakily, “so fucked up.”

“you started it.” powder’s voice is low against her throat as she bites softly, teeth grazing the skin.

her fingers hook into the waistband and drag jinx’s pants down inch by inch. no rush. the elastic clings to skin before sliding low enough to expose her completely. powder drops to her knees without thinking.

jinx’s thighs are slick and trembling. powder parts them, breath catching as she stares. jinx’s cunt is glistening. flushed, dripping, already swollen with need.

for herself.

powder stares, mesmerized. she knows every ridge, every fold. it’s like watching her own reflection bloom open and ache.

and then she leans in. her tongue drags through jinx’s folds, slow and wet. she licks from the bottom up, collecting slick with the flat of her tongue, then circles her clit, lazy at first.

jinx chokes on a moan, head knocking back against the wall.

“nnh- right there, don’t stop, don’t-“

powder hums into her, tongue pressing firmer, circling tighter. the vibration makes jinx cry out, thighs closing in around her head. her hips roll without rhythm, chasing more.

then powder adds her fingers. two, deep, curling. curling inside the exact angle that she knows makes herself see stars when she would pleasure herself back home. jinx’s whole body arches off the table. her moan splits open into something raw.

“fuck, that spot, yes-”

powder fucks her with her hand, tongue never stopping. her wrist works fast, knuckles slick with everything jinx is giving her. it’s obscene. loud. wet.

jinx’s body starts to shake. her muscles are locking up, abdomen trembling, the high building faster than she can brace for it. she moans louder, ragged and frantic. “i’m- fuck, I’m gonna-” she doesn’t get the words out. her orgasm hits sharp and overwhelming.

her legs snap tight around powder’s shoulders as she screams, a sound ripped raw from the back of her throat. her whole body convulses, thighs trembling, hips jerking forward, and then she squirts. it floods out of her in pulses, hot and sudden, soaking powder’s chin, her hand, the floor beneath them.

powder doesn’t pull away. she holds her there, keeps her mouth locked to her clit, fingers still moving as aftershocks ripple through her.

jinx twitches. whimpers. breath ragged and stuttering. finally, powder pulls back. her chin is wet, lips shiny, fingers coated. she licks one clean without breaking eye contact.

jinx is slumped against the table, dazed, shaking. “told you this was fucked up,” she whispers, voice wrecked.

powder smirks, breathless. “yeah,” she says. “but you liked it.”

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HER HIPS IM LITERALLY GNAWING AT THE SCREEN

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fortiche put so much hard work on the frames of jinx’s pretty boobs heart 😌

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Got this idea from one of my moots' Anon

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just got the cute tokidoki omg my wife shrine is growing 🙏 waiting for the act 3 jinx figures i paid a lung for to come next

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dating jinx means your thighs are always damp 🙂‍↔️

── .✦ H E A D C A N O N #2

boobs, ass, or thighs kind of girl?

#cw. Jinx x fem!reader (established relationship), needy!Jinx, fluff & mild angst, smut drabble bonus (thigh riding/humping). mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ

Jinx masterlist ⭑.ᐟ

Jinx is 100% a thighs kind of girl.

There’s something about them that undoes her. The strength hidden under soft skin, the way they shift when you walk, the way they flex when you sit. She notices every little detail without even meaning to.

Any excuse to get her hands—or herself—on them, she’s taking it.

Sitting? She’s dropping into your lap without even asking, one leg thrown over yours, draped casually like you’re a chair made just for her. “Best seat in the house,” she’ll murmur, proud and smug, her arms thrown around your neck like she’s claiming territory. She’ll bounce a little, wriggle around until she’s perfectly molded against you, then settle there like she’s got no plans of moving for the next six hours. “Perfect fit.” Bonus if she’s working on something. She’ll plop down with a huff, clever hands already busy. “Shh, stay still. You’re part of the workbench now.” She will then lean back with a satisfied hum, her back pressing against your chest, occasionally wiping grease, paint, or ink onto your clothes without thinking.

Sitting next to each other? Her palm is already sliding over your thigh like it belongs there (it does). She’ll grip it casually, thumb drawing lazy circles, or drum an absentminded beat only she can hear. “Mine,” she’ll whisper sometimes, not even looking at you, her fingers squeezing a little tighter like she’s making sure you know it, too. No matter where you are, no matter who’s around—her hands always remember where to land. Obviously loves it when you throw your legs over her lap.

Standing? That doesn’t stop her either. She’s sidling up close, hands trailing down your sides until she can squeeze the tops of your thighs, humming low in her throat like she’s found treasure.

If you’re wearing anything even slightly revealing? Good luck. She’ll whistle low under her breath the moment she sees you, dragging her gaze slowly. “Holy shit,” she’ll mutter, leaning in close, “You tryna kill me? ‘Cause it’s workin’. Dead. Done. Bury me between those thighs. Tell ‘em it’s what I would’ve wanted.” You’ll catch her eyes flicking downward mid-conversation, lingering just a second too long before she grins, all teeth and bad intentions. Half the time she doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath watching you.

Laying between your thighs is one of her favorite things in the entire world, though. The way your legs bracket her body, caging her in, keeping her close and protected—it makes her feel invincible and small all at once. When she’s between them, she’s in no hurry to move. She’ll sprawl out on her stomach, arms hooked lazily around your leg, chin propped on your thigh as she peers up at you with that lopsided grin that always spells trouble. “Hope you weren’t planning on goin’ anywhere,” she’ll chuckle, slow and sticky sweet. “’Cause you’re stuck with me now, sugarplum. Whole lotta legs, not nearly enough me on ‘em.” She absolutely loves using your thighs as a pillow.

And gods forbid you run your fingers through her hair while she’s there. She’ll melt instantly—slack-jawed, eyes fluttering shut, a soft whimper slipping out before she can catch it. She’ll cling harder, pulling herself deeper between your legs like she’s trying to crawl inside your skin and stay there forever.

But when she misses you—really misses you—Jinx gets different.

It doesn’t take much—a bad dream, a rough night, a few hours too long without hearing your voice—and suddenly, she’s at your door, jittery and restless like she’s been pacing for hours, her smile stretched too tight, her laugh too high. She doesn’t even say hello, just collides with you before dropping to her knees with no grace or pride, arms around your hips, face pressed into your stomach. “Told myself I was fine,” she mumbles, voice cracking. “Lied right through my damn teeth.”

And before you can even process it, she’s climbing into your lap, straddling your thigh, pressing against you like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she lets go. Her hands are frantic and everywhere at once like she’s trying to memorize you all over again. Then she starts moving—small, desperate rocks of her hips against you, chasing comfort, chasing anything that feels real.

Her breath catches in her throat, a soft, broken moan escaping before she even realizes it. “Fuck, baby…” she whimpers, forehead pressing hard against your shoulder, “missed you. Missed you so bad, it’s stupid. Thought maybe… thought maybe you—” Her face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, hot, desperate little gasps brushing your skin as she rocks harder and faster like she’s trying to grind the fear, hurt, and longing right out of her body. “Please…” she whines, barely audible, her rhythm messy and uneven. “Please, baby, lemme—lemme have this, just need it, need you. Swear I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind—”

Boobs? Sure, she’ll tease. She’ll squeeze, nudge, and make ridiculous comments. “Whatcha hidin’ under there, huh?” she’ll snicker as her hands snake under your shirt, not caring if it earns her a swat to the arm or an eye-roll.

Ass? Appreciated. She’ll throw a few playful smacks your way, maybe get caught staring once or twice when you walk ahead of her or if she’s following you up a staircase, but it’s a casual kind of want—background noise to her real obsession.

Thighs, though? Thighs are personal. They make her greedy. They make her ache in a way that jokes can’t cover up. That’s where her hands stop playing and start holding. “Gimme a minute,” she’ll mutter, half-draped across your lap, forehead pressed against your thigh like it’s the only solid thing left in her spinning little universe. “Or… y’know. The rest of the night.”

It’s the altar she’s absolutely willing to pray at. It’s the place she lays her head on, the place she rocks her body against, the place she clings to.

— dividers by @omi-resources !!

‘don’t mention thigh riding/humping’ challenge, go! (spoiler: i lost. i’m clearly very normal about it 👍)

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˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵

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fortiche just posted this 😭😭😭 our baby is so alive

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need to put her in my pocket 💔💔💔

── .✦ H E A D C A N O N #1

cw. # Jinx x fem!reader, lingerie, fluff & softcore, horny but in love, modern au.

Jinx masterlist ⭑.ᐟ

modern AU!Jinx who secretly loves matching underwear with you—way more than she’ll ever admit out loud. It started as a “wouldn’t it be funny if…” kind of thing, but now she’s fully committed. Cute sets in chaotic prints, black lace duos for date nights, even dumb cartoon-themed ones for lazy Sundays. Skulls, cherries, or slogans—it doesn’t matter. If it matches, she’s into it. She also gets way too excited while picking them out. She’ll pull a pair out of your shared drawer (labeled “our stuff <3”) and yell from the bedroom, “Baaabe, pick your poison—do you wanna match me in cute, slutty, or extra slutty today?”

She swears it’s just for fun, but the way she blushes when you change together tells a different story, giggling as she snaps your bra strap. She will admire the matching fabric against your curves, tracing where lace or cotton meets soft skin.

She loves the idea of it: your bodies, different but in sync, wearing the same little secret under whatever clothes you both threw on that day. She definitely uses it to stir the pot, flashing her waistband at the worst times and whispering, “Guess what we have in common right now, babe?” Then she’ll bite her lip, all proud and smug like she’s already planning how to not keep them on much longer. She loves being dramatic about it, too. “Should we get matching names tattooed on our butts next?” (she’s only half-joking).

She’ll go shopping and show up with a new set, saying, “Look what I got us!” while beaming at you. Bright colors, weird patterns, way too many straps—and she’ll wiggle her eyebrows like, you know this ends on the floor, right?

She gets especially bratty if you wear a set without her. “You wore it without me? That’s betrayal. Biblical. You owe me now.” And if you put on a completely different pair? Pure heartbreak. “Wow. Can’t believe you’d cheat on our panties like this.”

When the clothes finally come off, she loses it. The giggles, the giddy touches, the way she moans like she’s high on the moment. “Ugh, look at us. We’re so annoying. I love it.” It’s cute, stupidly so. She’s already got another set lined up the next day, too.

To Jinx, it isn’t just fabric—it’s connection. She likes the intimacy of it, the unspoken we belong together stitched into seams and lace. It makes her feel close. And when it’s all tangled on the floor—crumpled lace, twisted straps, the smell of sweat and sex in the air—she will curl up against you, fingers still idly tracing the ghost of your matching bralette, and whisper, “We looked so pretty.”

— dividers by @omi-resources !!

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thinking thoughts rn….

art from: @notjawaura on Twitter/X

HEAR ME OUT PLEASE HEAR ME OOOOUTA🙏 I need them so bad to fucking use me like their damn dollll

DO WE SEE THE VISION????? YOU GUYSS SEE IT???JINX WRITERS PLEASEEEEEE I NEED THEM BOTH

if someone does it can you please tag me pretty please!:3

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jinx’s side profile highlighting how pouty and kissable her lips are 🙂‍↔️