#Jordan Li headcanons

[yameoto]

HELL IS A (FUCKING) ROOMMATE. JORDAN LI.

synopsis ; your roommate has the libido of a goddamn animal and it's driving you insane. not to mention the fact they have an annoying habit of jerking off in your dorm. to you.

they want you? fine—they can have you. only on your terms, though.

✗ warnings ; dom!reader, sub!jordan. fem!reader, perv!roomate!jordan, dubcon, voyeurism, excessive masturbation (soz). wc ; 4.2k

YOU can do this. you can do this.

you grunt as you fumble for the key. cursing as, with an extreme lack of coordination—you begin to forcibly ram the bloody thing into the lock with the grace and precision of a sledgehammer. what you lack in motor control you make up for with inner beauty—or something.

the do not disturb sign rattles mockingly off the handle, meaning your roommate is definitely inside and definitely not helping out. you grit your teeth, entire body off kilter as you're preoccupied with balancing the boxes cramful of belongings in your arms; big and bulky and absolutely not helping your aim. you curse, loudly as they almost almost tumble out of your grasp the moment the key miraculously jams into place, jerking wildly to catch them. (note: super strength does not come with super-hand-eye-coordination.)

“fucking– stupid- key– fucking better– woah!” 

without warning, the door swings open, inwards. a montage of your entire life flits before your eyes as you hurtle forward, boxes and all. you just about barely manage to catch yourself with an undignified stumble before drawing yourself up; coming face to face with—oh.

two figures. bodies very noticeably.. inside. each other. naked. on, what you realise after a bout of disbelief; your fucking bed.

"what the fuck?"

one of them growls, mop of black hair flopping as their head snaps up, even though you're pretty sure you should be the one slinging expletives around. with a frustrated scowl they pull out of the dude, sending a withering glare to the poor guy they were fucking into the bedspread—to which he.. disappears? glitches out? phases out of existence? because suddenly he’s not there anymore, and you’re stranded alone with a very attractive, very threatening looking college student. 

who is also—uh, very, very naked.

“um, hi–”

“why do you have a key to my fucking dorm?”

oh, shit.

they are, frankly, gorgeous – like, one of the most beautiful people you've ever seen. their hair is black, mussed, and you can’t help the way your gaze follows its way down the threshold of an.. extremely muscled, slick torso before snapping upwards to find a mildly paralysing glare that reminds yourself that you are not in a very good position right now.

“i’m uh- your new.. roommate?'' you don't mean for it to come out like a question, but by the way they're staring down at you like you're a cockroach that just flew onto their windshield, you almost aren't so sure.

"i'm a fucking TA— i don't have roommates." their eyes narrow, which is like—alright, way to be real welcoming.

“i’m a.. last minute transfer..?” you offer, wincing as you meet their stare. their eyes are unflinching, yet still lidded in a post-sex haze. you can feel your body involuntarily holding its breath; though from the steel in their gaze or the way their biceps flex when they run a hand through their dishevelled locks, you can’t tell. 

fuck, you hate hot people.

“oh, yeah. fuck, i forgot about that.” their shoulders slacken, mouth settling into an unimpressed line; which is only slightly more welcoming than the look of murderous intent of two seconds ago. “jordan. jordan li." they say, last name and all—which is how you know they're a prick. "make yourself at home, i guess.” they don’t sound all too enthused as they skirt away from the door, seemingly satisfied with the fact that you're not a home invader—dorm invader? whatever. you just pray that the sigh of relief you breathe isn’t audible.

“great! nice to meet you, i’m–”

“s’on the sheet." jordan cuts in with supreme disinterest as they move across the room, leaning down to pick their boxers from the floor. you’re struck once again with the realisation that they are still fucking naked, and you pointedly tear your eyes away. 

“um, yeah.. hey, uh—what’s your-”

“third year, crime-fighting. don't touch my shit. no pets, obviously. if you have a dog, get rid of it. give it to the animal shelter, don’t care. don’t snoop, don't make a mess, and definitely don’t take off the goddamn do not disturb sign. got it?”

you've barely opened your mouth to reply; probably with something along the lines of what the fuck? or animal shelter? before jordan's already turned away, back muscles flexing as they sink back onto the end of their bed, scrunching their briefs up in one hand and—

“hey, uh,” jordan interjects, turning round with an unreadable expression as they glance down, and like a fucking idiot, you follow; giving you front row seat to the massive, throbbing boner that they’re still sporting—pulsing an angry, flushed red as the tip drools with precum.

“mind if i take care of this? couldn’t exactly finish, if you know what i—”

you slam the door after you, and you swear a snicker follows you down the corridor. 

-

over the next week, it quickly becomes apparent that jordan either a): forgets you live in the same room as them, or b): simply does not care. 

for starters, there’s their apparent aversion to doing laundry until their entire closet is out of commission, the coke stash underneath their mattress and also—oh. their need to get their dick wet at least four times a day. (irrespective of whether they have a dick or not).

“what?” jordan scoffs through a mouthful of cereal. “‘m not lettin’ some fuckin’ freshie cockblock me.”

“i’m a transfer, not a fucking freshman.” you scowl, and jordan’s lips curl to form a lazy little ‘o’. it twitches upwards into that infuriating little smirk, like they enjoy seeing you squirm. 

“whatever. my libido stops for nobody, not even you. besides,” they set their bowl on the bedside table, wagging their fingers suggestively into a ‘V’ shape and licking the air between. "a bigender supe has needs too."

they’re slouching against their headboard, free arm stretching lazily above their head. your cheeks flush traitorously as their biceps flex—muscles visibly popping against their frame “you can just say 'a girl has needs'. i'm not an idiot, i know what you mean." is what you grumble back, if only to ignore the inane, stupid heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. 

"but i have needs when i'm a dude, too." jordan grins, propping themselves up by their elbow, eyes gleaming impishly as they curl their hand into a fist and making a fucking wanking motion over their (currently) non-existent dick. which is—yeah. that pretty much sums up your roommate for you.

the thing is about jordan, is despite all their excessive lockerroom talk and relatively abrasive personality; they’re still rank two in all of godolkin. ergo, they’re a surprisingly busy person; being preoccupied with either studying, sparring or partying ninety of the time. 

thus, like all horny, single college students, when you don’t have time to squeeze a good fuck in, you’re left with second-best option—yourself. this would otherwise be fine, except jordan’s compound v must have seeped through their bloodstream and into their libido because jesus fucking christ are they horny.

it’s not like they make an effort of hiding it, either. they seem to have zero qualms about rolling out of bed, morning wood popping out from their briefs like a fucking beacon. 

“oh, shit,” jordan yawns when slide the covers off, giving way to the immense boner throbbing against their boxer-briefs. they don’t even have the decency to look sheepish when they walk past you, adjusting themselves lazily. you don’t miss the grunt of relief that escapes them as their hand palms their crotch before they disappear into the bathroom, either. or the little groans of relief that sound behind the door before they saunter out, towelling their hands with the stupidest grin on their face.

it shouldn’t piss you off as much as it does, except for the fact that even when jordan rouses without morning wood (or wood in general); they end up making their usual bathroom trip anyways. noises slipping from a half-ajar door and toilet lid left slippery, as always. 

they have to be doing it on purpose. they have to be. like, they left their strap-on on your desk once. which, first of all, gross. second of all, why was it so fucking big?

“jordan!” you holler, aghast as you nudge the thing on your desk, conveniently placed right next to your laptop.

“oh! that’s where i left it. sick.” jordan grins as they saunter over, veined hands reaching over to wrap around the shiny, plastic length and fuck, since when were their palms so massive—

“thanks, roomie.” they ruffle your hair with an impish glint in their eyes, smile only growing when you jerk away with a scowl. 

and that’s not even the worst of it.

“oh, shit—was that yours?” to their credit, jordan looks somewhat sheepish as they pinch a rock-hard pair of socks off the floor. your fucking socks, which have clearly been well-loved and cared for in places other than your shoes. 

“those were my favourite!” they weren’t your favourites. they’re socks. however, it makes jordan wince, which almost makes it worth it. 

hey, a little remorse is better than nothing. 

“..i’ll buy you a new pair?” jordan offers, scratching the nape of their neck. you’re almost content to let the awkwardness linger just give them just a piece of the torture you’ve been subjected to for the past several weeks — except the sliver of satisfaction is completely negated by the way jordan’s lip twitches upwards, like they’re fighting back a smirk.

“you little fuck—“

anyways, the point is jordan wanks. a lot. 

you can’t stop thinking about it. because it’s annoying. and disrespectful. and god, do they think you want to hear every pretty little moan that falls from their mouth? every grunt and groan that slips from their throat in that raspy, godforsaken timber— 

long story short; if you have to find a wadded up sock or sticky residue at the bottom of the computer desk one more time, you’re going to lose it. 

you think jordan knows it, too.

-

it’s midnight when you wake up to the sound of a bed creaking.

you’re an early sleeper, jordan isn’t. it works. you’re typically long knocked out before they even make it back in the dorm, out there doing god knows what. today, though, you’d far overestimated your ability to finish your latest assignment; so when jordan finally staggered through the door, slumping into bed with a little grunt, you thought nothing of it.

minutes pass, and the bed shifts. jordan groans. under the moonlight you can see the shadowed visage of their figure, splayed out on their bed with one hand underneath the covers; moving, repeatedly.

jordan grunts again, and you squint; bleary eyes adjusting to the darkness. the muffled, wet sound of slapping resounds, subdued by the weight of the blanket. if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were—

“mm, fuck—” jordan moans, blanket slipping down their hips and—oh my fucking god.

like pulling back a curtain, jordan’s cock springs enthusiastically to the surface; standing tall and proud as their fist pumps up and down the thick, veined girth of their length. it’s practically pulsating with need, bordering on desperate—they must be desperate, because jordan’s shameless, sure, but.. jacking off in the same room as you? 

you didn’t think they were that much of a fucking perv.

but maybe you’re a perv too, because the moment jordan’s hips rock upwards and their tip glimmers in a thick sheen of pre-cum; you can feel the telltale surge of heat in your stomach, the fabric of your panties dampening and oh, this can’t seriously be happening right now.

“fuck—motherfucker..” jordan hisses, drawing your bleary-eyed gaze from the flushed, throbbing bob of their cock to their pink cheeks and fucked-out face, mouth lolling in pleasure. they twist their head, nosing into something tossed onto their pillow that makes you stop in their tracks.

that’s.. you thought you lost that!

“need ‘m—so—fucking bad..” jordan slurs stiltedly, nuzzling into your shirt like their life depends on it. “fuckin’—stupid fucking—”

your stomach tightens, and you can’t help it when your fingers dip down under your shorts, slipping into your cunt. you should be mad, should be disgusted, should be shoving open the door and ripping them out of their covers and.. wrapping your mouth around their adorably flushed tip? seizing their hips and yanking their cock into your tight, wet little—

"oh, fuck," jordan interrupts your thought process by growling through their teeth, precum spilling from the slit of their dick and glazing their palms. there’s so much of it, so wet that even in the dark you can see the stain pooling in their sweatpants, their bedsheets. 

you’re so entranced you barely even register when it when their grip releases; length arcing and splattering thick ropes of cum against their abdomen. the sight is so mesmerising that you almost don’t pick up on the sound of your fucking name that tears out of their throat—husky and half gargled as jordan’s chest heaves. you don’t even realise you’ve been holding your breath until jordan’s figure simply lays there, pants echoing in the silent room. 

they wrap your shirt around their dick and wipe it clean. it’s only when they murmur something unintelligible—burying their nose back into your jumper that you finally, finally turn away, fingers curling deep inside your cunt.

fucking hell.

-

the second time it happens, you are wide, wide awake. which unfortunately means you have no excuse for the minutes seared into your memory and sticky residue on your thighs.

granted, at first you didn’t know. as always, the bathroom door hangs carelessly agape. steam curls from the room, wafting up and dispersing in the stuffy dorm air. what lingers, however, is the fresh note of jordan’s shampoo, body wash, and something.. saltier, headier.

whatever. with nothing more than an arched brow, you pick over the discarded basketball shorts and tank tops that litter the floor, intending to kick the bathroom door shut and be on your way. it’s when your hand reaches out, closing around the cool metal that you see it.

jordan’s slumped against the slick shower wall, fingers buried knuckle-deep into their pussy.

oh, shit shit shit—

“shit..” jordan hisses, muscles working like well-oiled sprigs as they pump into their cunt, droplets of water trickling down their skin and pooling into the divots of their body. 

your hand tightens around the doorknob. god, their moans.. if they think the sound of the showerhead can disguise the filthy nothings spilling out of their mouth, they are very, very wrong. 

somewhere between the fuck’s and annoying’s and pretty fuckin’ prude’s their full-weight crumples against the shower wall, plush ass pressing up against steaming glass like some (high-quality) porn ad as they ram their fingers in one last time, free hand shooting out wildly to grasp at nothing before the shower wall splatters with something you only catch a glimpse of before you’re slamming the bathroom door, cheeks burning and fingers trembling. with a start, you realise you’ve almost wrenched the goddamn metal off.

the doorknob is always a little bit loose, after that. 

-

you’re getting ready for a party.

well, you’re supposed to be getting ready for a  party, hence the sultry eyeshadow, glossy press of your lips and sheer amount of skin laid bare. your crop-top is just a little bit too high, mini-skirt more than a little too short.

in reality? you’re enacting your fucking vegeance.

jordan likes you. it’s a fact that stares you right in the face. and if not a crush, it’s a massive, raging hard-on. for you—only you—citing a certain roommate’s post-nut ramblings you’ve heard one too many times. 

as it turns out, jordan becomes considerably less insufferable when you know you’re the only thing that gets their dick wet.

“how do i look?” you call, doing a little twirl. it’s impossible to keep the smirk off your face, skirt flipping very purposely upwards as you spin, revealing a tad more than they ever (usually) get to see. 

jordan glances up, and their breath fucking hitches.

bingo.

“what?” you cock your head, lashes batting innocuously as they stare. playing the oblivious role is just too sweet, especially when your eyes flicker down, just for a moment, and you can see the bulge in their sweatpants growing.

poor little jordan, hard because their roommate flashed a millisecond of ass.

“you look—good.” they grunt, tone carefully measured. their gaze lingers, only for another moment before they abruptly snap their vision back to their screen. an admirable effort, really. if only their cheeks were a little less red, cock a little less needy.

“well don’t flatter me too much,” you twist away, lips twitching upwards. feigning normalcy is easy, seeing as how you’ve been doing so ever since that first night. you're practically buzzing with anticipation when you make a big show of leaving the room, snarky comment and all.

and really, jordan could've waited for longer than two minutes before moaning that raspy, broken moan (you're so intimately familiar with) from behind the door.

your lips split into a grin, and when you slide the door back open, the look on jordan's face is so priceless you hope it'll be seared into your memory forever.

“shit!"

it’s undeniable, this time. you’re no longer a fly on the wall, and they’re no longer blanketed by the illusion of secrecy; caught red-handed with their cock in their fist and head on your pillow.

“wait—fuck—i can expl—!”

like clockwork, jordan's cock twitches as if in reaction, and a drop of fresh semen spurts from their tip before trickling down to join the messy puddle on their stomach. 

“i thought—fuck! you said you were going!” 

“that doesn’t sound like an apology to me.” 

you delight in the way jordan flushes, their breath hitching. they take a ragged breath before they make a valiant attempt to cover up their falter with aggression. "doesn't mean anything," they retort through gritted teeth, mustering up as much conviction as they can. 

it’s adorable, how much they pretend they don’t want you as if they don’t jack off to the smell of your sweatshirt every night. 

“shut the fuck up.” you roll your eyes, novelty of the movement finally wearing thin. you have needs too—and with a fluid movement, you slide onto the bed and yank their hips against yours, pulling them into a straddle over your torso.

jordan can't help but hiss at the sudden contact, hips jerking instinctively. "fuck, you're cold," they mutter under their breath, though there's no denying the thrill running through them; hips bucking forward into the touch of your cool fingers as they wrap around their hard member. it feels euphoric—the contrast between your heat and coldness heightening every single nerve ending in their body. the tip of their cockhead brushing against your belly button, dripping a thin line of hot, sticky fluid after it.

“go on.” you coo, eyebrows raised. 

jorda’s hands fly almost immediately to the hem of your skirt. so eager, like an impatient puppy. 

 before you curl your hand around their wrist, grip firm and punishing. 

they freeze, head cocking like a confused puppy. “huh?” they say, biting back a noise of complaint. they want you so bad its goddamn gruelling; their fingers twitching around nothing, screaming in impatience, let me fuck you, let me ruin you already. don’t you know how long i’ve been waiting? how long you’ve kept me fucking waiting?

of course you know. they don’t know that, though. 

“you’re not gonna do anything?” despite all their irritating, fratboy-esque bravado; jordan’s unable to prevent the whininess from seeping into their tone, hands tugging insistently at the hem of your skirt. their cock pulses, painful and needy.

“you have hands, don’t you?” your lips quirk at the way jordan’s expression drops and their mouth opens again, probably to protest until you yank their thighs open and press them forward, dick pressing flush against your torso. 

"unnhnnngh.." jordan grunts, gasping for air while trying to maintain eye contact with you—an impossible task considering how goddamn desperate they are. their free hand grabs hold of your waist, grinding sloppily as precum spurts all over your chest. “f-fuck off," they hiss, lips crashing against yours, teeth knocking at their eagerness.

“goddamn tease—” they groan, rutting against your torso, to no avail. they bury their face into your collar, utterly miserable, fingers twisting into the hem of your shirt. “just get the fuck on with it—ahnnn.. f-fuck—”

“so mouthy,” you tease, delighted at the mewl that slips past jordan’s lips when your hand wraps around their tip. their chain necklace swings wildly, bucking their hips desperately into your fist.

“hands feel so fuckin’ good,” jordan sputters, drooling almost as much as their dick is. their fumbling grasp finds purchase in your shoulders as they pump themselves into your hand; you barely even have to move, with them doing most of the work.

“need to be— inside—“ jordan grunts; glassy eyes blinking down at you like it’ll change your mind just like that. it’s cute, how they look when they’re not scowling or fucking smirking at you. it’s even cuter, the way they inhale sharply when you shake your head and deliver a cool “no, baby,” their back arching when you cup one of their balls and squeeze, forced into dismal acceptance with a keening whine. 

jordan’s movements are getting unsteady, now. eyes glazing over by the second. “y’gonna make me cum,” they slur, grip on your hips tightening. it only takes a moment before their movements stutter and they’re muttering “fuck fuck fuck oh, fuck!“ and a long, gargled moan rips from their throat and all of a sudden hands wrapped around cock are sinking in wet, sloppy heat; your fingers sliding knuckle-deep into their pussy with almost breath-taking ease.

“jesus christ!” jordan croons in sheer, unexpected pleasure as they feel you shove yourself inside them, cum spurting and squeezing out helplessly from between their walls and your fingers. they squirt so fucking messily, their leaking cock replaced by a cunt spilling out out all over your palm. 

“i didn’t—didn’t mean to—” they slur, panic two steps behind their mouth. struggling to sling anything coherent together with you kneading your fingers into their pussy like its goddamn putty. “oh?” you arch a brow, and jordan visibly flushes, moaning openly when your digits curl.

“can’t–don’t really—”

“what? fuck yourself?” is your reply, because you both know they fucking do; it’s not like you don’t how their pussy sounds when it’s sliding slick against their pillow, how your name sounds cried out, thick through the muzzle of your jumper.

it’s a dual guilty pleasure—you watch, they do. at this point, you can’t tell who’s the more perverted out of the two of you.

jordan. definitely jordan. 

“too busy humping my clothes, is that it?” you purr, and jordan honest to god whimpers, squirming away from your fingers both out of overstimulation and plaintive shame. “ah, ah,” you tut, nails digging into their hips as you hold them in place, finger thumbing harshly against their clit as they cry out a gargled moan. 

“f-fuck off—” jordan hisses, practically an admission of guilt itself. they seem to know it, too, with the way they abandon all pretence and pound violently against your knuckles—their gaze burning into yours like they’re daring you to say another word. “don’t act like you didn’t—shit—fucking like it.” jordan gasps out between sputters, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

“hm?” you pause, eyes meeting jordan’s heated, quivering stare. “jerk off to watching me?” they choke, eyes glossing over when you thrust “did you fuck yourself to my—mmhnn—!” 

an easy, all-too-familiar eye roll graces your face before you shut them up with your fingers. their pussy clenches; hot, slippery walls gripping your digits as if afraid to let go. oh, this is too easy.

“don’t get cute with me, roomie.” the nickname tastes sweet on your tongue, and jordan’s face grows hotter. a well-timed thumb to their clit flickers their bravado out like a light. “fucking hell!” they gasp, mouth gaping into a moan and eyes rolling back into their skull.

“you wanted me to watch, didn’t you?” you coo, and jordan squirms; mouth open in protest—or at least attempts at them, what with the way they keep gasping out in pleasure as you roll your fingers against their clit. 

“shut the fuck—i didn’t—”

“a pervert and a liar now, are we?”

jordan makes a noise somewhere between a hiss and a whine, crying out when you slide two more fingers into the slick canal of their core. their eyes screw shut, hands seizing so wildly into the mattress you almost think they’re about to tear a hole through the bedsheets.

“god! fuck—i can’t—”

they cry out your name when they cum, and even if its a sound you’ve heard countless times by now you don’t think it’ll ever get old. “that’s it, baby.” you coo, lips curling upwards at the way they bury their face into your collar.

they lie there, panting, for what feels like forever before a muffled, half-delusional groan leaves their lips.

“oh, fuuuckk..”

“what?”

“..i thought i would top.”

[lavend3r-stardust]

Jordan's rough hands gripping your hips as they fuck you in their masc form, your hands clinging to the edge of the counter as your head rolls back to rest in the crook of jordan's neck, their deep groan reverberating low in your ears as they whisper about "you're taking me so so good, Princess . . . I bet you've missed my cock, huh? My pretty girl's all fucked out me . . . That's my good girl-"

Jordan's praises spur you on, drive you closer and closer to the edge before you feel them shift into their fem form, their hands softer as they smack your ass, and you whine when you feel your pussy clench against nothing. "I got you, baby," Jordan croons. "I'll make you feel good. Why don't you turn around for me?"

Jordan flips you around to wrap their arms around your waist, helping you up as you sit against the edge of the counter. You watch the hazy glint in Jordan's eyes deepen as they bring your legs up to your chest, parting them slowly to dip their head betwen your thighs so they can devour your hot sticky cunt.

"Jordan, fuuck- pleasepleaseplease" you whine, grinding your hips into their face as they plunge two fingers into your hole, curling them inside your gummy walls as your thighs twitch on either side of their head.

"Please what, sweetheart? What do you want me to do?" They say, fingers pumping in and out of your sopping cunt, making the sexiest, wettest sounds as they bring their tongue to flick around your clit.

"Fuck~ !!" Your hips roll against Jordan's mouth as their hands keep a firm grip on your inner thighs, littering them with bite marks and kisses hard enough to bruise. Jordan chuckles into your pussy, their pink tongue darting out to lick away the cum that stains their lips.

"What does it look like i'm doing, angel?"

[gwynfahr]

Jordan's an overstimulating queen, and a worshipping king, you can't convince me otherwise.

In female form, she will not stop making you come until you almost can't articulate your safe word anymore. Spurring you on by whispering an unending stream of "Come on, one more time", or "I know, just one more and then we can take a break" in your ear. She'll add some light degradation, fucking you roughly on her fingers.

In their male form, he changes completely, he's tender, he's praising the hell out of you. Of course, he's overstimulating you still, but he'll add compliments such as : "You're doing so well, baby" or "such a good fucking girl for me".

Either way, sex with Jordan Li is fucking mind blowing and you can argue with the wall if you don't think so.

[aneveningsword]

𝑭𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑺 𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑼𝑻 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮

pairing: Jordan Li x gn!reader warnings: not proofread, hurt/comfort words: 1498 summary: a video from a party leads to accusations being thrown, with betrayal and jealousy clouding the mind it is only expected something goes wrong.

masterlist

Fights with Jordan were never malicious; they were always about something stupid or the stress of class. When the two of you fought, it was always followed by a heated makeout session and hushed apologies. It was never serious, and there was nothing you couldn't forgive each other for. However, the subject of the fight was sometimes just in someone's head.

The aggressive knocks on your dorm room door were nothing new; with your headphones on, you could barely hear anything. Rising from your couch, you cross the small space to the door, opening it with a smile that only grew as you saw Jordan on the other side.

"Hey, I wasn't expecting you." Your voice trails off slightly as you notice the deep frown on their face. Taking a moment to take in their appearance you notice their vphone clutched harshly in their hand, for a moment you wonder if it is going to shatter in their hand. Pushing past you to get into your room you were a little shocked with their aggression.

Shutting the door quickly, you turn to face them, confusion written on your face as you try to figure out what's wrong. "You good?" Their nostrils flared slightly as you huffed in response to the question. "Am I doing well? Are you okay? "What the hell is this?" Their voice was accusatory, their dark eyes boring into yours as if they were looking for a flash of guilt to prove they were correct in their accusation.

A video was playing on their vphone, which was thrust into your face. From what you could tell, it was from the weekend party you attended. It was supposed to be a small gathering for your friend's party, but it was blown out of proportion, and many more people showed up. Regardless, it was a fun night that you will never forget. However, Jordan stands there with a video of someone performing a keg stand that you wish you could remember.

"Looks like someone having a good time?" The video loops again as you try to figure out what caused such a reaction from the person in front of you. Your words pull a scoff from Jordan as they watch you with anger swirling in their eyes. "The fucking background, I shouldn't have to explain it." Their words were laced with venom as you tried to see what they were talking about. What could possibly get them so upset to storm into your dorm and begin yelling at you over something.

After a few moments, you realised what had gotten them so worked up. You and a guy were in the crowd that gathered around the person of the moment, encouraging them to keep drinking. Matthew? Max? Martin? His name slipped your mind, the alcohol erasing it from your memory. They were attached to your side, their hands a little too low, and their face whispering something in your ear before hovering over the exposed skin of your neck in the video. You couldn't help but frown as you saw it, desperately trying to recall how you got into the situation.

You could remember the disgusting feeling of his hands on you, the drunken flirting, and the kiss they tried to give you in small fragments. You'd put a stop to it before it got too far, telling them to get lost and that you weren't interested in them at all.

"That was nothing-" "Nothing? I sure looked like something." Jordan's anger-filled voice cut you off before you could explain yourself, their emotions clouding their judgement. You knew you should not rise to their bites, to begin yelling back and fighting with an equal amount of venom. But you were feeding off the anger and betrayal in the room.

"I don't know why it's any of your business. It's not like we are together." What Jordan and you had was delicate, you weren't officially together yet treated one another as partners. There had never been a conversation on exactly what you two were, simply a couple of people who fool around and seek each other out at times. Not a couple.

"It became my business when you act like a fucking slut." You it was not the yelling that caused the pang in your heart, not the tone or the way they looked at you with such anger. But the accusation of you being a slut, as though you were asking for a man to accost you while trying to celebrate your friend. "Go fuck yourself Jordan. God, I don't act like such a brat when you flirt with people. If I knew you were so insecure I would've wasted my time with you."

Your words seemed to strike a nerve with them, and your choice of words hurt them. There was some distance between you two, a small safety bubble in your eyes. But when Jordan took a step towards you, it popped, and you quickly took a step back to regain the distance between you. In reality, you don't know why you did it; you weren't afraid they'd hurt you physically because you knew they weren't like that. But the possibility of it existed.

In their masculine form, they could be rather intimidating, they were tall and muscular, and their voice was deep and loud without even trying. They towered over you with little effort, intimidating you without even trying.

Jordan's expression changed from one of rage to one of guilt and concern. It was never their intention to scare you or make you fear they would attack you. When they saw the video, they were just frustrated and hurt, feeling betrayed. A part of them knew they were wrong; you weren't together, you weren't their partner; you were simply someone who held a special place in their hearts. The sting of betrayal for what had happened was still there. But it was overshadowed by the guilt he felt for instilling fear in others. They knew in their masculine form they could be intimidating, they often used this form to make sure people were listening to them when making a point.

"I-" The shift to their feminine form was instant, their voice becoming softer, their features more rounded and their frame much smaller as though they were trying to curl into themself to appear less threatening. Their voice was laced with guilt, words dying in their throat not knowing what to say to make this better. To make you feel more comfortable and safe with them, instead of fear that they might do something. "I didn't mean..."

"I know," Your voice is soft as you speak, you feel stupid for allowing a small fear to consume you. To think that they were that low may that they may hurt you over a video and harsh words. Embarrassment flooded your system along with a small sense of guilt for the whirlwind of emotions you have caused them. "I just... I don't know why I did that."

"I would never hurt you," Jordan's voice matches yours in tone and volume, eyes searching yours for a hint of fear that you may still possess. "I know," Your small confirmation pushes Jordan towards you, their steps are slow and small giving you enough chance to back away or shoo them off. But you don't, needing the sense of comfort only they can bring.

Jordan's hands grab your hands softly, starting small to ensure you are okay with physical touch. When you give on negative reaction, they wrap their arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. You sink into their touch, arms wrapping around them as a small sigh leaves you. "I didn't mean for him to be all over me," You begin, finding this calm moment the perfect time to explain your actions. "I didn't want to cause a scene, not at my friend's party. It didn't go further than that, I promise. I got him to leave me be, he was just a stain on a good night."

There was silence for a moment, Jordan allowing your words to sink in and for a moment they felt silly. To think you would eagerly be all over a guy you just met at a party. That you would throw away what you both had for some man you clearly barely remember. But the jealousy and betrayal was still there, gnawing at the back of their mind.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have barged in here to yell at you. I didn't want to scare you." The small apology brought a smile to your face, it was easy to forgive Jordan and it was easy to love them.

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Confession Time: Part Two of Jordan Li X Streamer!fem!reader

A/N: I just got a cold so that's part of the story. Also, I own none of the characters from The Boys or Gen V. Enjoy!

Warnings: None, I don't think.

Word Count: 1410

Taglist: @airabek @thesuperwolfdiaries

A couple of weeks had passed since you realized your feelings for Jordan and now you had no idea how to act. You tried to act as normal as possible but no one told you what to do after realizing you have feelings for your friend of over a decade.

“Just tell them!” Emma insisted one afternoon in her dorm room.

"How do I work that into a normal conversation?" I replied.

“It’ll have to be a special conversation. All you have to do is say ‘Hey Jordan, I like you and I would really like to have sex with you’.” “Emma!”

Emma’s words did not help and as you set up for your stream later that night, you hoped Jordan didn’t notice your hands were trembling. “Nervous, Y/N?”

Of course they noticed.

You shook your head. “No, I think I just had too much caffeine.”

They nodded and leaned back in their chair. “So, what game do I have to carry you through tonight?” “You don’t carry me.” “Not in comfy games but I have to in horror games.”

You rolled your eyes and muttered, “PT”, wondering why your heart was fluttering in your chest.

As soon as the stream started, so did the thirsty comments and donations. “Yourmomssloppydisk said, ‘Jordan, what amount of money would get you to step on me? It could be any amount of time, I know you’re busy.’ Chat, relax,” You joked, face warming up.

“It’s okay, Y/N. For one thing, there would need to be an ironclad contract absolving me of any responsibility. The other thing is I don’t know if you could afford me.”

The sound of super chats and donations provided a nice distraction from the dark hallway in-game. “Someone sent a super chat and said, ‘I’ve never seen two pretty best friends, but this stream proves they exist’.” Jordan wrapped their arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. “Thank you for noticing.” “I will say, chat, I made this channel for my external validation. Jordan gets enough offline and online.” “Most of the comments come from you,” Jordan teased.

“Shut up!” you exclaimed, running through the loop again. Before you knew it, chaos in-game ensued and you couldn’t stop squealing.

Fortunately, the horror of the game kicked in just in time to distract you from how closely Jordan sat next to you or how good their new shampoo smelled. Or how widely they smiled when you got jump scared.

You were grateful for the nights they weren’t available to stream and you could focus on important things, like studying and planning new content. But the idea of confessing was always a thought in the back of your head.

Despite the fan content you’d seen, you couldn’t help but feel terrified of rejection. Putting yourself out there online and offline were two very different things. Online, you could just log off but offline, was a much different beast.

The decision to confess was taken away from you…sort of.

You and your friends were planning on attending Dusty’s Halloween party, AKA the biggest and best party of the year. Cate had been helping you plan your costume for weeks and you’d be able to take a night off work.

Everything was going to be perfect but, your immune system had other ideas. The morning of the party, you woke up with a sore throat and runny nose. As soon as Cate and Marie saw you, they practically shoved you back in bed.

“I’m fine, guys, I swear, I’m fine,” you insisted as Cate tucked you in. “Downing a bunch of Dayquil doesn’t mean ‘fine’, Y/N,” Marie said as she set a glass of water on your nightstand. “Now you’re going to stay in bed and rest,” Cate said.

“You can’t make me,” you huffed in your haze. “Yes, I could, Y/N, but I’m not going to.”

After they left, you did take a nap but there was only so much resting one could do before they got bored. So, you decided to do an impromptu stream. Nothing serious, just some Animal Crossing. You set yourself up with as many blankets and pillows as could fit with your setup and started.

“Hi everyone, this isn’t a planned stream but, as you can probably hear, my immune system lost a battle and I wanted to play some Animal Crossing to make me feel better.” You smiled when a super chat came in. “Thanks for the super chat Seriouslydon’tcallme87. ‘Y/N, you can take a night off. You’ve been working hard forever, and you need to take care of yourself.’ I appreciate the concern but I have plenty of zinc and Dayquil in my system.”

At Dusty’s, while Cate, Emma, Andre, and Luke partied, Jordan couldn’t stop worrying. Marie had told them about how you were sick when they met up at the party and then she had to stop them from driving back to campus. “Y/N would want you to have a good time and she’d probably feel really bad if you got sick.”

While Marie had a point, Jordan couldn’t stop thinking about you, all curled up in bed and suffering. In the middle of an intense game of flip cup, Jordan got a notification that you were streaming. They immediately stepped away from the table, clicked on it, and saw that you were practically lying down while working on your island.

“This is such a stupid mechanic. Just let me build a waterfall Nintendo,” you whined. Jordan laughed at that. You were always whiney when you were sick, but it was kind of cute. You were always cute.

Then, they felt bad because you were looking forward to this party for so long and kept your costume a secret from them, wanting a huge reveal. It was kind of embarrassing for them to admit that they were curious for which style route you took. Almost as embarrassing as the crush they had on you for the entirety of your friendship.  

“No, chat, this will not turn into a sleep stream. I didn’t even take the Nyquil yet.” As soon as you yawned, Jordan was on their way back to campus. When they burst into your room, you barely moved, head lolled to one side as you attempted to fish.

“What do you mean, ‘Jordan is serving?’ Chat, you all need to touch grass,” you muttered. Jordan laughed lowly and slowly approached you. “I appreciate the compliment.”

You slowly looked up and smiled. “Hi, Jordan. You make a great Jack Skellington.” “Thanks, but, I think it’s time we end the game.” You sat up and looked at chat. “Yes, chat, I was supposed to go socialize tonight but my immune system failed me. My costume was pretty amazing too, I was gonna be Black Cat.”

Jordan smiled at the visual. “Okay, chat, thanks for watching her for me but, I’ll take it from here.” Your protests were weak as Jordan stopped the stream, shut down all your devices, and gently lifted you in their arms.

“I wasn’t done!” you exclaimed. “I saved your progress, you can finish tomorrow.” They gently set you back in your bed and wrapped you in all the blankets they could find. They found the Nyquil and placed it on your nightstand along with some juice.

You wiggled around in bed and pouted. “But I’m not tired.” “Is this what it’s like to have a kid?” “Are you calling me a child?” Then, you started giggling and Jordan shook their head.

“Just take your medicine.”

"Why’d you leave the party?” you asked. “Because I saw my best friend trying to stream while she’s sick and thought I’d prevent a disaster.”

You grinned. “Thank you for always taking care of me, Jordan. You’re so sweet.” “Stop it, go to bed,” they said. “Wait.” You leaned up, grabbed the back of their neck, and pulled them closer to you.

Either the Nyquil kicked in or you genuinely didn’t notice the shock in their eyes. “I love you, Jordan. I was going to tell you at the party tonight but, this is also fine.” They opened their mouth to speak but you flopped back in bed, fast asleep.

For a moment, Jordan stood there, stunned as they watched you sleep. They couldn’t believe you said that and didn’t even give them a chance to respond.

Once they finished cleaning up after you, they decided to confess to you when you were lucid.

[incorrectgenv]

[perpetualproductions]

Just thinking how if Jordan ever wanted to record music, they could duet with themselves...

Like straight up, they have access to two separate vocal ranges. They don't have to worry about finding another person with a voice that compliments theirs and fits the song. And they don't have to deal with scheduling recording sessions (which is always the hardest part, trust me). Am I assuming they can sing because they (most likely) play the guitar? Yes, Yes I am.

I just need Jordan to pull out their phone, sit with their guitar and record an acoustic cover of, idfk- Señorita or something, switching between forms for different parts.

(For Marie, obviously.)

[inklore]

SEX WITH JORDAN IS TWO VERY DIFFERENT EXPERIENCES.

Solely depending on which form they shift into during or before.

When they're in their female form, they’re a top with a touch of submission, like the minute you whisper in their ear what you want to do to them, they’re switching to that submissive side. 

They’re letting you climb on top of them, letting you take complete control. Letting you kiss down their body, smiling down at you when your teeth bite into the flesh of their tits. Your tongue smoothing over the mark you’ve just made.

Sucking on the skin, knowing they’ll have to walk around for weeks with your mark on them. They'll complain about it, but you catch them smiling at in the mirror when they’re getting dressed. 

Letting you make them come against your mouth twice before they can’t stand it anymore and they’re groaning, pulling you up by the cheeks to kiss you with passion, teeth, and tongue. Moaning at their own taste as they push your back into the mattress. 

The roles quickly switched. 

Jordan never passes up the chance to be in complete control. To have their fingers between your thighs, watching the way your body arches and rolls to the pleasure they’re giving you as their thumb rubs your clit and their fingers fuck your pussy, deep, and rhythm with the buck of your hips. Their mouth on your neck, moving across your chest to close their lips around your nipple. 

They feel almost powerful with the knowledge—with seeing how they can make you feel—that they can bring out those weak-pleasure-fueled noises from you, that if they curl their fingers, you’ll be clinging to them, begging and pleading, breathing into their mouth like it’s your last one, like if they don’t let you come, you’ll go insane. Like you’re their saint, and you only need absolution from them. 

And when they have their cunt pressed to yours, palm pressed under your chin, against your neck, to keep your eyes on them, their words come out heavy and heated, “it’s only me, right? Only I can make you feel like this? Can make you come this hard?”, your answer wrapped around a pretty moan, fingers digging into their hips to press them harder against you—they feel invincible. 

But when they’re in their male form, it’s different. They’re different. They lose that dominant edge and shift into something more lenient. Something akin to a service top, with submission hanging at the cusp. 

They’ll still lace their fingers with yours and press them into the mattress, making you feel like they’re the ones in control. Like they could do whatever they want to your body and know you’d love it and ask for more. 

But deep down, you both know you’re the one in control. 

You’re the one that’s driving them completely insane. That they want to please. Make come over and over until your thighs are wet and sticky, and they lap it up with their tongue. Use the head of their cock to gather the slick at your entrance and rub it against your clit. Make you come one more time just by using the tip of their cock. 

Your begs for them to stick it in, “please, Jordan, please,” one of the prettiest things they’ve heard. 

Making them smile against your lips as they squeeze your chin between your thumb and pointer to bring your mouth up to theirs. 

“Anything for you,” they say against your open mouth as they slip their cock into your heat. The slow stretch makes your nails dig into the side of their arm. 

The thrusts and speed of their hips all dependent on what you want. What you moan and whimper into their skin, mouth. How your body moves against there’s, underneath it, with it. How your pussy squeezes them. 

“Come for me, one more time, I promise,” the wet squelch of their cock fucking you matched with the fingers drawing circles against your clit undoing you. 

And when you switch positions, when you take the reigns and wrap your lips around the tip of their cock, letting your tongue lap up your own come, that’s when that submissive side comes out. 

The whimpers heaved out of Jordan’s lungs, the push of their hips off the bed, driving their cock deeper into your throat. Their brows pinched together, eyes glossy, needy. Fingers on your cheek, your head, in the bed sheets. 

It’s fucking beautiful. 

They’re fucking beautiful. 

“Let me fuck your throat. Can I–fuck–can I fuck your throat, baby?” 

“Please.”

“Yes, please.” 

Their fingers dig into the side of your skull, the closer they are to coming. But even that’s soft. The thrusts fucking up into your mouth are hurried, fast, and hard, but still softer than they could be. Still gentle in that careful way of Jordan wanting you to enjoy this just as much as they are. 

When they come down your throat, they watch you swallow. Their eyes watching your throat move, lips twitching in a soft smile. A hand cupping the back of your neck to bring you against their chest to lay. A finger under your chin to lift your head far enough for them to lean down and kiss you. 

[jamesdegriz]

You're sick and in relationship with Jordan: headcanons

(Gifs are not mine, please DM for credit if you recognize your work and want to be tugged)

It's a flu season so I hope you will enjoy a little bit of fluff and feeling of being cared for. :)

- I see it going two ways. Either Jordan snaps into protective mode or they start avoiding you, afraid of getting sick themselves.

If it's something light, like a flu, they will let you alone, just checking in on you by messages or calls, occasionally bringing you food and medicine. But if it's something more serious like pneumonia they are too worried and protective to let you deal with this by yourself. In that case...

- Jordan makes you move into their dorm. You take the bed and they would sleep on the couch. They are more snippy and sarcastic then usual (even if you have been in a relationship for awhile) because they are afraid to really show how much you being sick worries them to their core.

○ "You will get sick too." You say in the last attempt to dissuade Jordan from being an overbearing mother hen. "I won't." They reply stubbornly. "My immune system is much stronger to fall for some weak-ass virus." Jordan adds proudly with an half-amused half-dismissive huff. A small fleeting smile on their face doesn't go unnoticed by you when you chuckle despite yourself at the antics of your partner.

- Overbearing isn't enough to describe Jordan when it comes to taking care of the sick you. They make sure and force you to eat if you forget. They impose a strict quarantine and won't let you do anything too physical or go to classes (even online ones) .

- Some of their commonly used phrases include:

"No way in hell you're going to classes like that."

"What gym? I don't care if it's meditative yoga. You're not going, that's my final word."

"You're feeling better already? If you can walk to the door and back without coughing I will consider believing you."

○ "I can take care of myself!" I sniffle with a small pout. "The hell you can. Should I remind you that you have higher fever now because you snuck out to the classes despite me telling you not to?" Jordan counters with the hand on their hip and pointing the thermometer at you accusatorily. "You didn't stay locked up in the room when you were sick" you rebuff under your breath before coughing loudly and sniffling your nose, making you snuggle more into the blankets. Jordan ignores your words as they turn on their heels, tossing their bob out of their face and walk to the other side of the room to make you some more tea.

- If you shiver too much during the night, Jordan would never say it out loud but climb into the bed with you, wrapping their arms tightly around you, warm chest pressing against your shivering back. ○ "Just spew your germs in the other direction. I have an important meeting with Brink in the end of the week." They would grumble into your hair, when you stir slightly awake, giving your middle a light squeeze so you know they care more than they let you know.

- In the evening, after classes and grading papers for Brink Jordan stumbles into their dorm to find you cuddled up in bed watching your comfort series. They switch to their male form as they approach you (I firmly believe that they have an irrational conviction that their invulnerabilty makes them resistant to germs).

○ "Have you eaten anything today?" Jordan asks checking you for fever by pressing the inside of their forearm to your forehead. "No, I had no appetite." You reply softly leaning into their touch. The illness and sleeping not cuddled up to Jordan every night, making you crazy touch starved. "I figured as much," they grumble rolling their eyes. "Here, I got you some soup from the take-out place you like so much." A plastic bag is put in your lap carefully, the warmth radiating to your palms when you wrap your hands around it carefully. Jordan will sit with you, rolling their eyes at your show but not complaining, just to make sure that you will finish your meal.

- No surprise they end up sick after you and you need to take care of them, which is a lot like trying to cuddle a grumpy cat, because Jordan refuses to believe they are sick. It doesn't help that hearing Jordan trying to be sarcastic and defensive with their nose all stuffy, makes you smile and giggle from how adorable they sound. That annoys Jordan even more until they fall silent and start pouting and you have to hug them a kiss the pout away while they try half-heartedly to push you away.

[hughiecampbelle]

Dating Jordan And Having The Power Of Perfection Would Include:

Requested: Hey❤️!! Since your request are open I wanted to request something w/ Jordan Li. Jordan and Reader are dating & reader’s power of being perfect. Sorry if it’s too complicated and I do absolutely love your writing! - anon

A/N: I had this book as a kid where this family had powers and the mums was perfection and idk, it's so nostalgic 💕 I did make it a little darker so it's more in line with the universe. Thank you for requesting my love! I hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

At first, Jordan hated you

The two of you were in constant fight to secure the second place/third place spots

Because of your abilities, you had perfect grades, perfect essays, perfect technique in fighting and training

You weren't exceptionally strong or indestructible, but you always knew the perfect way to take down your opponent

At events, your clothes and hair and jokes and words, everything was perfect.

You were the perfect face of God U besides Golden Boy

Your powers were non-threatening and would probably win you several jobs after graduation that others could only dream of - many of them for Vought

They could always use someone like you

You and Jordan met through Luke. When he said you were perfect, they thought he was kidding. When they met you, they realized who you were, and it instantly clicked: you weren't just good at what you did, it was impeccable

Because you were in constant fight for second place, because it was almost daily that your places changed and swapped, they thought of you as competition

It isn't until a gala do they see you as a person instead of a set of statistics and characteristics they have to be better than

You're all smiles talking to a group of older men, laughing when you should, making fun of them just enough so that they don't feel threatened. When they leave, you drop the facade, taking a drink off a silver platter and sitting beside them. Jordan notices this change, scooting closer to you, trying to sound nonchalant

"I didn't know you could have rough nights." They joke

You try to play it off, coming up with the perfect excuse, but they say you, they knew better than to believe you

You and Jordan bond over your equally terrible night: they open up about their parents wanting them to be one way when they're much happier as they are. You tell them about the growing pressures of your perfection

In elementary school it was a bit of a joke: you were a straight A student, you were good at whatever you tried no matter the experience level, you made friends easily. Your parents joked you were the best child they could ask for

When middle school hit, things started to change. The powers had been there since you were a baby (you rarely cried, you ate everything and never spit up, you were happy and easy and bubbly) but now you were old enough to realize you were different from everyone else. You picked up instruments you'd never touched before and was able to play them perfectly. Sports you had zero interest or experience in came easy to you. You tried to fail tests and mess up speeches and start fights, but something in you took over, something controlled you and made you do and say the right thing

By high school you weren't studying for tests or doing any of your course readings. You joined every club and extracurricular, showing up only when necessary. You slept through classes and tried to party as much as possible, but your body rejected every bad choice you put it through: you aced tests, you were exceptional in all your activities, even the alcohol you drank wouldn't touch you. You were always perfectly sober

You wanted so badly to fail, but it went against your nature

You weren't surprised when you got into God U. You had the best GPA, you wore so many chords at your graduation you lost count, you were exhausted from perfection. You needed a change and you hoped college would be that change

Jordan hadn't realized how confining perfection could be

You couldn't help but answer questions in class, your arm shot up, the words came out compulsively. There was no controlling it

After this, they see you so much more different than they initially thought

Jordan seeks you out after that, losing their typically cold exterior for a nicer, softer one

They used to blame you for their shortcomings, but now they realize it's quite literally out of your control

Hanging out more with Jordan

They kind of insert themselves into your life more, finding you between classes, switching seats to be near you, offering to help you with your physical combat. It's kind of a silly excuse, but they'd do anything to get to know you better

Despite not needing their help in combat, you say yes anyways

You love watching them switch between their powers

That is kind of your first unofficial date and, afterwards, they ask you out on a real one

You are, of course, perfect and they can't help but fall for you

Luke is the first to ask if you're dating or not

When you didn't have classes with Jordan, you had them with Luke, who couldn't help but notice the change in Jordan

They used to get so annoyed when he brought you up. Now? Now they were all smiles

Andre definitely made fun of the both of you (nicknaming you The Perfect Couple)

It earned him a punch in the arm, but there was no denying your perfection

Cate was glad to have another couple in the friend group

Eventually meeting Jordan's parents who love you instantly

"Y/n is pretty perfect." They say, only half-joking

Studying together all the time, your dates are pretty academia focused. When you're not worrying about grades and still fighting for the second place slot, Jordan is showing you off at the clubs in your teeny tiny, skin tight outfits

Despite being perfectly sober, you can still have a good time

They can't keep their hands off you when you dance together

Jordan isn't big on PDA, but they get jealous sooo easily and that's when they become handsy

Because you're perfect in every way, you find that a lot of people develop crushes on you. You make sure Jordan knows they're the only one for you

You love how driven they are, how passionate they are

You've never minded their powers and always want them in whatever form they take

To you, they are perfect. Yours might be compulsive, but they're all natural

Jordan comes to you with almost anything

When they see what Brink does to Luke, they keep it a secret, not wanting your perspective of them change because they'd rather stick with their mentor than their friend

You know nothing about what's going on the school. To you, everything is perfectly normal

[360iris]

How am I doing? Oh, I don’t know… I think I’m in love with a bi-gender badass who may, or may not, have gotten in on the big bad’s plan initially in exchange for a top spot on the school’s ranking board if they did well as an inside spy

but accidentally falls in love with the weird and pretty black girl who can creepily control her own and other people’s blood

And I’m afraid she’ll find out the truth and they’ll end up sacrificing themselves to save her because protecting her is all they’ve ever tried to do since the beginning;;;;;

Anyway, how are you?????

[yameoto]

Haiii can you pls write a fic abt being rude to jordan all day which causes them to take their anger out on the reader at the end of the day and they’re just being really aggressive and manhandling?

FRUSTRATION. JORDAN LI.

✗ warnings ; dom!jordan, sub!reader, rough sex, dry humping, orgasm denial, brat taming. not proof read. wc ; 1.2k

THE last straw is the coffee. the fucking coffee.

the sick thing is that this time, you didn't even mean it. sure, your relationship was on pause. sure, you two had been exchanging barbed quips and jibes back and forth for the worse part of two weeks.

(there wasn't even a point to it, anymore—devolving into the most inane, stupid game of chicken; who can piss the other off more? but jordan is nothing but competitive — and you'd be damned if you let them show you up.)

but this time? you swore you were minding your business. like actual, cross your heart, hope to die—stick a cupcake in your eye. unfortunately for you, grade-school promises don't exactly stick up too well when you're standing in the middle of your dorm room doorframe; foaming, hot latte sopping into your favourite jacket. and bag. oops.

"are you fucking serious?" jordan's scowl is black, arms immediately flying out to shake their sleeves, to no avail. your mouth is already open — granted, not to apologise, but it doesn't matter much anyways when all of a sudden two hands are on your torso and you're being thrust onto a bed. you’re not exactly proud of the startled yelp that peels out of you, but fuck— jordan looks.. really fucking hot.

"you get off from pissing me off, or something?" jordan grunts, eyes flaring. there are the faintest hints of bags under their eyes, and a note of tension in their voice you've never heard before. you've clearly caught them at a bad time—even in the depths of this cold war between the two of you, they've never seemed this pissed — just.. mildly irritated.

"only sometimes." you snip back, instead, squirming as their hands dig into your shoulder. it's the wrong answer.

"no." jordan hisses, hand moving up to grip your jaw with a harsh squeeze. "no, no, no. none of that." they lean in, and abruptly you feel your heart jump to your throat; tensing at the indecipherable leer to their tone.

"here's what's gonna happen, baby," the endearment comes out a derisive snarl as their hand swallows your thigh, hiking your leg up and yanking you into a straddle over their leg.

"you're gonna hump my fucking thigh," jordan growls, edging in close, breath hot against your neck as if they're about to rip your throat out. "and you're gonna scream my name like a fucking banshee, got it?" they murmur, and you inhale, jaw slack at the sheer level of cruelty in their voice, and the unmistakable spike of heat that throbs your core.

unimpressed by your silence, jordan's hand constricts around the base of your neck, squeezing. "i said, got it?" they hiss, patience running thin, and you grunt—nails digging into your palms to restrain a wince, or god forbid—a whimper. "got it." you huff, annoyance forcing its way in your inflection as if you're not about to melt into a puddle all over their thigh. god, you've been waiting for this, waiting for this for so fucking long—a week without their touch has felt like a month without fucking water. not that you'd ever admit that, out loud.

a low, unreadable hum resounds from the back of jordan's throat. "well fucking hump, then, sweetheart." they say, voice low as their teeth nips against your skin. you take the hint—forgoing your pride and slowly beginning to grind against their leg, ache between your legs growing increasingly needy as you feed into its begging, pulsing throbs, little whines beginning to fall out of your mouth.

"i said fucking scream it," they hiss, lips latching onto your neck and sucking as your body begins to tremble, feeble whine releasing from your mouth, despite yourself. "i want everyone on the floor to know it's my fucking thigh you're rutting up against like a needy slut." they say, gaze hardening as you thrust yourself against them with a breathy moan, their tone alone making you course with need. "jordan—jordan, oh, fuck—" you gasp, hand fisting into the hem of their shirt.

"louder." jordan demands, a whisper. their fingers curl against your skin, hips bucking subtly at every mention of their name. you make a little noise of protest, but jordan's eyes flash— and you find yourself keening for their approval as you thrash in their lap, body trembling all over. "jordan—" you moan, back arching all while you grind urgently into their thigh, mind blanking. "jordan, jordan, jordan jordan—" the words spill in a shaky, hoarse slew of whines that fit perfectly around your lips, like their name was made for you. your body moves as mindless as your mouth, functioning only on one, single, primal, instinctual need.

jordan jordan jordan need need thigh fuck jordan fuck me fucking fuck me, already—

"i've felt like shit all week." jordan hisses, interrupting your highly intellectual thought process—though, they don't exactly look too cut up as you continue to hump their leg, eyes glassy and teary with want. you want more. you need more. you need them inside of you—"but you're gonna make it up to me, aren't you, doll?" jordan purrs, voice a rushed mumble as their hands dig into your waist. they forcibly jerk you forwards, wrenching your legs further apart so you're splayed across their groin instead of their thigh. this time, you can't help the audible whimper that leaves your throat. "then maybe i'll forgive you."

as if on cue, your pace speeds up with an excitable whine, burying your face under their chin. "please—more—" you force out, grasp on their hem tightening as you groan, loudly, hips bucking wildly against them. "need you— in me—" the words stumble out, shamelessly, barely comprehensible. jordan grins, and with dismay you realise they're shaking their head.

"oh, c'mon. you don't deserve it." they snort, and you whine at the sheer unjustness of it all. you were only mean for them for what? a week? a whole week of them not touching you, either—fuck, you need it—their fingers, their cock—anything to fill up the burning, pounding emptiness inside you, begging to be stuffed full. you open your mouth to protest, but jordan beats you to it. "you're gonna come on my fucking thigh, or you're not gonna come at all. okay, sweetheart?"

any potential complaints die in your throat, petering out to a dismal, shaky whine of defeat. you're still grinding furiously against them. frustrated grunts leave your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut, mattress quaking in time with your thrusts. you have no drive to win against them, anymore. all you wanna do is fucking come.

jordan's grip on you eases, bit by bit as you make a show of yourself — pants and whines spilling from you as you bury yourself deep into jordan's chest and just rut, like the useless thing you are. it's sad, it's needy, it's desperate; and the thing is you fucking can't— it's not enough. you need jordan. you need them.

the whimper that drifts from you even smaller than the ones before, and in an instant, your pants die— and you crumple into a breathless heap upon their chest. it still aches, dull throb between your legs left to pulse and groan out in need. you feel gross, and sticky, and sleepy. this is what you get, really, for thinking you could fuck around with jordan and get away with it.

"are you still mad at me?" you mumble into the crook of jordan's neck, fabric of their shirt still bunched up in your fists. "..jords..?" you mutter, and jordan smiles at the way your words slur, thighs still shaking, their pretty baby taught a lesson. "oh, doll." they grin, hand sliding along chest— your hipbone— the band of your underwear.

well. maybe there's still hope for you, yet.

[lavend3r-stardust]

Homework sex w/ jordan 👀

Jordan thrusting into you while you're seated in their lap, trying to finish your homework. Them telling you to "focus, baby . . . Can't have you failing because you love my dick so much. My smart girl can do a lot better than that if she can concentrate, right?"

But you keep getting distracted as their dick is buried in your wet little cunt, can't help but start chewing your lip when Jordan nips at the back of your neck, and you groan when they slowly rock their hips so they can fuck you deeper. Your arms reach back to wrap around Jordan's neck as they kiss you, their mouth moving down to suck on your collarbone as they motion for you to get off the chair.

"I guess homework could wait a bit . . ." Jordan grins as you jump into their arms, wrapping your legs around their waist and turning around so you land on their bed. You take in the scent of jordan's sheets and their cologne as they climb into your lap, dragging the tip along your pussy, sighing at the way it throbs feeling them slide up and down your glistening folds.

"Maybe if you can answer one last question . . . I might give you want you want," They say with a grin.

[gwynfahr]

Just imagine :

A frat party mostly filled with freshmen just out of high school, Jordan's here for the free booze and drugs honestly, but then their eyes land on you, so fucking hot in that tight little outfit. You look so fucking innocent when you cough a bit at the taste of the drink your friend has given you.

In their masc form, he follows your moves as you then proceed to smoke weed for what totally seems to be the first time.

That's when the corruption kink really kicks in. Jordan wants you, wonders how you'd look with your pretty glossy lips parted as you moaned his name while he fucked you into oblivion. Thinks about your manicured nails raking against her back when she'd finger you until you saw god. The way you'd beg for them to stop for a bit because it's too much, you can't come anymore.

They want you without even having talked to you, and they're gonna get you...

You'll be screaming their name by the end of the night.

[aneveningsword]

𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑶𝑰𝑵𝑻

pairing: Jordan Li x gn!reader warnings: not proofread, mean old rich men words: 1152 summary: The perfect place to climb the ranks and get donours is Brink's Gala. But not every trustee is as open-minded as hoped.

masterlist

"Jesus, you're stunning. Everyone is going to be jealous with you on my arm." A low wolf whistle leaves you as you spot your partner amongst the various people transversing the Gala. Glass of champagne in one hand, as the other reaches out to grab theirs, a large smile on your face. Instead of a matching smile appearing on Jordan's face like you had expected, there was only a tight-lipped one.

It caused the smile on your own face to drop slightly in concern. You were aware of the strained relationship between Jordan and their parents. Their presence caused them to be on edge and tense, trapping themselves in their masculine form to appease their parents. It upset you to see them struggling, but all you could offer was comfort and an ear to rant to. At the end of the day, they are their parents and there is nothing that could change that.

"Clearly someone has not drunk enough. While I adore you in this suit, I hate the frown that comes with it." Your thumb slides over their knuckles hoping to provide some comfort, it was clear they had ditched their parents in an attempt of some reprise. Carefully, you motion for Jordan to take a sip from your glass, hoping it will help with their tension slightly. A small thank you pass their lips as they take the drink from your glass.

Leaning forward you move to whisper into Jordan's ear, a grin on your face. "Y'know, we can just leave, run away just you and me. We can hide away in my dorm." The proposal brings a small chuckle from Jordan, tilting their head slightly they appeared to be considering it for a moment. Before they shake their head, a free hand comes to wrap around your waist as you lean back to gauge his reaction. "Very tempting, but I need to talk to some donors. It may be my only chance to get them on my side."

You were well aware of the importance the rankings held to Jordan, and the stress it brings onto them to not fall down some ranks. A hum is pulled from you at their answer, tugging them along with you by your joint hands. "Then let's go. Time to kiss some rich people's ass," eagerly you lead them through the crowd, looking for the oldest of white men. During the small search, the champagne glass is ditched on a passing server's plate.

It was not long before your eyes fell on someone who fits the bill. Old, check. White, check. Vaguely familiar, check. With a new sense of determination, you catch the attention of the man. You are quick to introduce yourself and Jordan, allowing them to lead the small talk before you begin to push their stats.

"I'm sure you're a smart man, you've been keeping an eye on the rankings. You're well aware of Jordan putting up the best stats of any of the ranks. Their forensics and combat-," Your small showboating on behalf of your partner is cut short by the man in front of you. His voice was unimpressed and disinterested in what you were saying. "Look, I like ya I do. I just wish I liked your numbers. Q Rating, name recognition, social trending, they're all down."

"Well, Brink always said those aren't the numbers that matter." In an attempt to try and gain some favour once more Jordan spoke up with the words of their mentor. However, it was clear with a few simple words that it meant little to the trustee, "He's not here anymore. Listen, a bi-gender Asian with pronoun fuckery doesn't sell. Maybe pick a form and you'd be better to market."

It was something Jordan had heard many times before, to the point they barely flinched when the words were thrown at them. Despite Jordan being content to cut their losses, you were not going to allow the comment to go unchallenged. A deep frown forms on your face as your free hand reaches out to grab the wrist of the older man as he attempts to leave. The man turns to look you in confusion, wondering what possessed you grab him unprompted.

"November 5th, last year, Italy. You were on a 'business trip' but really you were visiting your other family. Maria and Bella are such cute children, 8 and 10, correct? What would your wife think of this?" Your voice is even as you speak, a sense of knowledge held within your voice. For you knew it as a fact, this man had been cheating on his wife for some time. While your power may not be the best for combat, being able to know people's secrets through touch came in handy at times, especially, when trying to scare a bigoted old man.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." There was a small attempt to deny the allegation, but you both knew it was true. "I would hate to think how hard it might be to market a man who is actively cheating on his wife. It would ruin the perfect family man image you have worked so hard to build. So, I beg you to reconsider your choice of who to support in the rankings." While your voice was even and calm, there was a sense of challenge in your eyes almost begging him to say something else. Your eyes bore into the men before a small tug pulls your attention away.

Letting go of the man's wrist, your eyes turn to Jordan their expression unreadable. Without a word, they begin to tug you away and through the crowd. It was a few moments before they found a free table to sit at, making a seat before pulling you to sit in the free seat beside them.

"I know I shouldn't have, but he could not get away with th-," Your apology was cut off by a hand falling onto your thigh. There was a sense of worry that they might be upset with you, annoyed that you made a small scene. But there was only a smile on their face, shifting into their feminine form during your quick words.

"Thank you," Jordan's words were soft as they spoke "You didn't have to do that."

"I know, but I wanted to. I hate it when people speak of you like that, especially when I can do something about it. I adore you Jordan, and I'll be damned if I let anyone speak to you like that. You're stuck with me now."

A laugh is pulled from Jordan at your words, as you pull them for a kiss. Your lips meet their own, your hand cupping their cheek pulling them closer. You're the first to pull away despite the allure they had. "As much as I love you, if we keep this up I'll give everyone a show."

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Headcanons: Jordan Li with Streamer!fem reader

A/N: This character has a chokehold on me just like they do everyone else. Also, I don't claim to own this character nor the gifs, I just had this idea for a scenario.

Notes: 1116 word count and some swearing.

You never thought that your stream you started out of boredom during high school would take off but by the time you got to GOD U, you were always on the Top Ten Streamer list on V-TV.

 Your content ranged from wholesome gaming, collabs with other creators, and commentary on popular videos or media. Emma, Marie, Luke, Cate, and Andre had all been featured at least once but your oldest friend, Jordan, was hesitant.

“I don’t want a bunch of weird strangers knowing who I am,” they muttered when you tried to convince them to join for the millionth time.

You pouted, “Jordan, that’s what the mods are for. Anyway, it’s a risk you’re going to have to take as a supe anyway, right?” They were reluctant to admit you were right and after bribing them with Olive Garden, grumpily sat next to you as you set up your stream the following night.

“Try to look a little more enthusiastic,” you teased as you adjusted your cameras to frame you and Jordan well.

“It’s hard when I’m still hungover,” they griped. Despite their mood, you couldn’t help but feel giddy as you clicked on the big green “start” button and sat down in your custom gaming chair.

“Hi everyone, welcome back! Today, I have a very special guest who taught me almost everything I know about gaming,” you chirped, pulling Jordan’s chair closer to your side. “This is Jordan.”

Almost immediately, your chat started going crazy. “Who’s the hot guy?” “That’s your friend???!!!” “I knew I should’ve tried harder to get into GOD U.”

Jordan’s eyes widened at the response, and they sat up a little straighter and waved. “Hi everyone and yes, I am Y/N’s friend, and I did teach her everything she knows about gaming.” You elbowed them in the side playfully. “Not true!” “Before me, she didn’t even know what T-posing was.”

You playfully smacked their arm and shook your head. “Shut up. Anyway, tonight I am wearing my cozy sweatshirt because it is spooky season and to celebrate, we will be playing Outlast and Jordan is here in case I faint from fear and emotional support.” Jordan snorted, “You’re playing Outlast when you couldn’t finish FNAF?”

The night was filled with screaming and panic from you while Jordan mostly laughed at your pain and tried to give directions.

“Go left! No, the other left!” They shouted. “I panicked!”

Throughout the gameplay, the chat was bombarding you both with comments and donations. “Cherrypickednightmare gifted 50 subs and said, ‘Please give Jordan their cut’,” Jordan read. “Thank you for the subs! What cut? This is my channel, Jordan is a guest. They are here as a friend,” you said without taking your eyes off the screen.

“I don’t think you did this well with anyone else on the channel, I think I should be compensated,” Jordan teased. “Your pay is my friendship and potentially more Olive Garden.”

With that statement, your subscribers sent more “gifts” and subs as you continued playing. “Mikeysleftfoot said, ‘For the Olive Garden fund,” Jordan chuckled. “Yes, chat, for only 9.99 a day, you can provide Jordan with a week’s worth of Olive Garden even though they only eat the breadsticks, but someone needs to order something so no one gets kicked out,” you teased in a fake serious voice.

Jordan seemed to have too much fun interacting with chat while you were avoiding being attacked by zombified asylum patients. “WHY DID I COME INTO THIS HOSPITAL ALONE WITHOUT A WEAPON? I’M A JOURNALIST AND NO ONE KNOWS I’M HERE!” you screamed while frantically trying to get your character to run away from the giant patient. “Y/N, Viledeeds87 wants to know how we met.”

“NOT NOW!” But you died in-game seconds later and huffed. “We met in kindergarten,” you stated. “No, preschool.” You burst out laughing, “My bad, I lumped the years together. We were on the playground, I got a splinter from the swing set, and Jordan walked me to the nurse’s office.” “I’ve been looking out for her clumsy ass since.”

After that night, your friendship with Jordan and Jordan themselves became a hot topic on your channel. “Someone said, ‘Why is Jordan so daddy?’ Relax, chat, or else I will not bring them back on the channel. Their head’s gonna get too big from your thirst,” you joked.  

Surprisingly, Jordan loved the attention, especially the reactions they could get out of you because of the attention.

“I should write up a contract to make sure I’m getting my proper royalties,” Jordan suggested mindlessly during a study session.  “You know I have a team of lawyers, right?” “Scared they’ll agree with me?”

But when your merch collection came out, Jordan was the first to model and post about it on social media. Their appearances on the channel were regular and fueled more engagement on your streams, which your management loved.

Your other friends offline couldn’t help but comment on it either, with Andre only being a little jealous of the attention Jordan got while Luke and Cate couldn’t be more supportive.

Emma and Marie proudly shipped you and Jordan. “You’re so cute together, I mean, it’s giving frenemies and will-they-won’t-they at the same time!” Emma insisted. “No way, there’s nothing there. Jordan’s my best friend and it makes sense that we would have decent chemistry.” “I may not be super experienced in this area but, they do not look at you like a friend, on stream and off,” Marie commented.

You thought your younger friends were nuts. If there was anything between you and Jordan, you would be the first to know. Sure, you occasionally got butterflies around them when they smiled in either form and you regularly bought things or sent them pictures of something that reminded you of them. But all best friends do that, right?

Then one night, when you should’ve been studying, you were scrolling on social media when you stumbled across fan compilation videos of you and Jordan. While a lot of them were funny, a few of them were on the shipping side.

For the first time, you saw how Jordan’s big brown eyes softened when you weren’t looking at them and how they were so quick to pull you in their lap when you tried to storm off in a rage-quit. Was this how they always acted around you?

As you raked your brain, you began to remember several moments where Jordan acted a little more than a friend to you but at the time, you brushed it off. Did this mean they liked you? Did this mean it was finally okay for you to admit how you feel?