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magenta-malice · 3 months ago

Text

Stress Relief

Jax x Reader

sorry for the long intro

Summary: Caine organises a roast session for the circus members, with Jax being the first target. He plays it cool at first, but when the jokes hit a little too close to home, Y/N finds him struggling with the aftermath.

A/N: This idea came to me in a ₊‧⁺˖vision˖⁺‧₊, inspired by that episode in the Office where everyone roasts Micheal and he acts tough in front of them but gets really emotional and cries about it at the end. I feel that’s extremely Jax coded. Originally, I imagined this as just a bunch of random HCs, but then I wanted to write an actual story around it – so I decided to do both.

You’ll see an intermission in the middle where I just made the roasts into bullet points, mostly because I came up with too many for each character and had no idea how to structure them. So I just got lazy with it. Hope you don’t mind lol. Imagine it like a fun montage!

Quick backstory:

1.) This happens on the next day of ‘A Slithering Adventure’, also written by yours truly, so if you haven’t read that one yet, number one, how dare you, and second, you don’t necessarily have to read it, but it’s nice for the context. Not suggesting anything… but, y’know. Glance glance, wink wink.

2.) I mentioned in that post that I’m in the middle of writing a long and tedious TADC AU kind of thing for myself with my OC in mind, who has a mysterious backstory that the circus members don’t know about. This oneshot is also a part of that story. There’s a brief scene touching on that here, but nothing you can’t handle.

CW: underlying themes of emotional damage / emotional vulnerability - from both Y/N and Jax | Jax gets bullied <3 | Y/N has hair, Kinger has brows and Caine has a grin?? i dunno man

Word count: 3044 | Masterlist

You woke up feeling like sleep had chewed you up and spat you back out. Maybe it was yesterday’s adventure – running from a giant serpent, getting lost in the woods, and, most amusingly, watching Jax try (and fail) to act like he wasn’t absolutely losing his mind.

On the surface, it had been hilarious. Seeing him crumble in fear, fumbling through excuses, pretending he was totally fine? Priceless. But now, lying here, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

You stretched, your joints making an odd rubbery squeak – just another reminder that your body wasn’t really your body anymore. Sitting up, you replayed yesterday’s events in your mind.

Jax had tried so hard to keep his usual smug composure, but the moment that snake slithered too close, he practically levitated off the ground. His ears had shot straight up, his pupils shrunk to tiny squares, and, oh, the best part, his voice cracked when he snapped at you to “move faster, dammit!”

You snorted to yourself. Yeah, real smooth, Jax.

Still… the way he had reacted – it wasn’t just some overblown freak-out. There was real fear in his eyes. Not the dramatic, over-the-top kind he faked for attention, but something raw, something instinctive. And that’s what stuck with you.

You weren’t used to seeing Jax vulnerable. Hell, you weren’t sure if he was used to it.

With a sigh, you got up. Not my problem, you told yourself. He’ll be fine.

Probably.

You shook off the lingering thoughts and made your way out of your room. The hallway stretched ahead, bathed in that usual, eerie vibes – no windows, no real sense of time passing, just the same endless loop of artificial existence.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you nearly bumped into someone.

“Kinger?”

The old chess piece flinched like you’d just jolted him out of a deep trance. His eyes darted around before settling on you, blinking a few times as if trying to place who you were.

“Oh! Oh, yes, you’re… you’re…” he paused, rubbing his gloved hands together. “Wait, what was I–? Oh dear, I was– hm.”

Kinger always seemed lost in his own world, but today, there was something… different about it.

“You alright there, buddy?” you asked, tilting your head with a half-smile.

He let out a nervous chuckle, then leaned in slightly. “I had a thought just now,” he muttered, his voice filled with confusion. “But it slipped away. Isn’t that strange? Happens all the time, but this one felt important.”

Your stomach suddenly twisted. You had a hunch of what this was about. He’s remembering. Not clearly, not yet – but it was only a matter of time.

Before you could respond, he straightened up. “Ah, well! Off to breakfast, are we? Yes, yes, me too! Or – was I going somewhere else?”

You forced a grin. “Nah, you’re doing just fine, Kinger.”

His eyes twitched. “Huh?”

You just patted his shoulder, ignoring how he flinched. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

Kinger hesitated but eventually shuffled along beside you. He kept glancing your way, brow furrowed like he was trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces. You pretended not to notice.

As you two entered the main room, the others were already gathered, the air thick with anticipation. Your eyes immediately met Jax’s, who was already slouched on the couch, arms folded behind his head as if he owned the place.

You tried to ignore the faint hint of amusement flickering across your face as you sat down next to him, your thoughts still lingering on the adventure with the serpent. You could still hear Jax’s high-pitched yelp in your head and the way he had tried – and spectacularly failed – to act calm. Not that you’d rub it in… too much.

"You still recovering from yesterday or have the nerves settled down already?”

Jax shot you a quick glance as he leaned back with a cocky grin. "Nerves? What nerves? I’m good as new, Y/N."

“Uh-huh,” you said, not buying it for a second. You crossed your arms, keeping your expression neutral, but you couldn’t help the small, teasing smile that tugged at your lips.

"Hey, I’m just saying, I’m extremely calm under pressure. One of my many talents," Jax continued, grinning wider. "You can admit it – you were impressed."

You snorted at his response. “Right, sure. Whatever you say, bunny boy.”

Before Jax could reply, Caine’s voice boomed across the room, cutting through the casual chatter like a knife. "Alright, alright! Settle down, everyone! Your favorite ringmaster has finally arrived!"

You could practically feel the collective groan ripple through the room.

Caine twirled in mid-air, his voice filling the entire room. "Ah, welcome, my fabulous team! Welcome, my precious superstars, my beloved troupe of dazzling individuals who make this circus the magnificent spectacle it is!" His eyes shined with excitement as he continued, his hands sweeping grandly toward the group. "Now, my lovely cast of unique and talented beings, it’s time for a very special event, one that will unite us all in ways you cannot yet fathom!"

He paused for dramatic effect, letting the silence hang in the air before delivering his next words with grand flair. "Today, we’re embarking on a marvelous journey of togetherness! The bond of a team is forged in the most delightful of fires. And what better way to nurture that bond than... a team-building exercise, of course!"

The room fell into a hushed stillness. You tilted your head in confusion, not entirely sure where this was going.

Caine’s grin widened as he spun in a slow circle. "This will not be some trivial, run-of-the-mill bonding experience, no! No, no, no... This, my dear friends, will be a roast! A chance for each of you to lovingly tear each other apart, but with words, of course! Nothing brings people closer than a little well-meaning verbal destruction, am I right?"

There was a beat of silence.

Then–

"Wait, what?" Jax sat up, grinning. "You’re saying we just get to insult each other? In front of everyone?"

"Precisely!" Caine exclaimed, beaming like he’d just announced the greatest prize. "Let’s see who can come up with the sharpest wit, the cleverest insult, and of course, the most playful jabs. All in good fun, of course!"

You could see Gangle and Pomni getting uncomfortable, probably being a bit concerned about what’s about to go down. Zooble let out a sigh, already regretting coming out of their room today.

Caine clapped his hands dramatically, bringing the attention back to him. "Alright! Let the games begin! I expect nothing short of absolute brilliance from each of you. And remember, we’re a team. A family! Just... with a little extra spice today."

"Alright, let’s get started," Jax cracked his knuckles. "This might be the best day of my life."

The others exchanged uneasy glances, half-expecting Jax to unleash all of his inner demons. Caine spun in the air. "Since Jax is clearly so excited, why don’t we start with him?"

Jax froze.

"Wait–"

But it was too late. The damage had been done.

The room fell silent for a moment. Then Ragatha leaned forward, a smile spreading across her face. "Oh, this should be fun."

___________________________

POMNI

#1:

Pomni: Visibly sweating. “Uh… Jax… you, um… you’re really mean. Like, aggressively mean. If I had a dollar for every time you insulted me, I’d – well, I don’t know what I’d do, because there’s no money here, but I’d be rich in theoretical dollars.” Pauses, then mutters. “Wait, that sounded dumb. Can I start over?”

Jax: “Nah, keep going, this is hilarious.”

#2:

“Uh… Jax. You, um… you’re really good at making people feel bad. Which is… impressive? In a terrible way? Anyway, I don’t think you have emotions, and I think if you did, you’d bully them too.”

#3:

“If you disappeared, I wouldn’t even question it…”

GANGLE

#1:

Gangle: “Jax, every time you walk into a room, I have to mentally prepare myself. You’re like a jump scare, but instead of a scary monster, it’s just… pure emotional damage.”

Jax: “Aww, thanks, ribbons.”

Gangle: “That wasn’t a compliment...”

Jax: Grinning. “Sounded like one.”

#2:

“I-I-I just think it’s really funny how you call everyone else pathetic, but you literally have nothing going for you. You don’t even wear shoes."

#3:

“I tried drawing Jax once, but the paper crumpled itself out of self-respect.”

KINGER

#1:

“Jax reminds me of this guy I used to know in the war. Always running his mouth. We left him in a ditch.”

#2:

“You remind me of a mosquito. Annoying, persistent, and somehow always there when I don’t want you to be.”

#3:

“You know, Jax, I think I used to have a friend like you… Oh, wait, never mind… I wouldn’t do that to myself.”

Y/N

#1:

"Jax, I have to ask – do you actually do anything around here, or do you just exist to be a professional pain in the ass?"

#2:

"You’re like a kid who just learned what sarcasm is and decided to make it his whole personality."

#3:

"I think the real mystery of this place is how you’re somehow both the most annoying and the most avoidant person here."

RAGATHA

#1:

“Jax, you act like you’re too cool to care about anything, but I’ve seen you spend fifteen minutes trying to get your reflection to wink back at you the ‘right’ way. So. Yeah.”

#2:

Ragatha: “Jax, I’ve seen you laugh at your own jokes for a solid five minutes while everyone else just stands there in silence. You are your own biggest fan, and honestly? Even you deserve better.”

Jax: “That was almost clever. I’m proud of you.”

Ragatha: “Don’t patronize me. Also, I know for a fact you talk to yourself in the mirror.”

Jax: “Who told you that?”

Ragatha: “You did. Out loud. In the middle of this room.”

#3:

“If we haven’t already got a suggestion box, I’d make one with a ‘things that need to be removed’ label and slip a piece of paper in with your name.”

ZOOBLE

#1:

“Jax, you’re like a vending machine that only gives out insults and expired chips. Just once, I’d like to press a button and get, I don’t know, basic human decency. But no, it’s always ‘ha ha, Zooble looks like modern art that got hit by a bus.’”

#2:

Zooble: “Jax, you act like you’re too cool to care about anything, but let’s be real – you’re the kind of guy who’d fake not knowing what a hug is just so no one tries to give you one.”

Jax: “Oh, please. Like anyone here would want to hug me.”

Zooble: “You’d be surprised. Some people love a good ‘fixing a broken man’ project.”

Jax: No way that’s a thing.

Zooble: “Oh, absolutely. You’re the perfect candidate.”

#3:

Deadpan. “Jax is proof that some things just keep going, even when nobody wants them to.”

CAINE

#1:

“Jax, my boy! I’d roast you, but honestly, I think the universe already did that when it made you HAHAHA!”

#2:

Caine: “Jax, Jax, Jax… My favorite little nuisance! You know, if I had a nickel for every time you caused chaos, I’d – wait! I don’t need nickels! I’m already infinitely powerful HAHAHAHAHA! But if I did need them, I’d be filthy rich!”

Jax: “Wow, Caine. That was… whatever that was.”

Caine: “Well, you can’t roast perfection! Now back to you, champ! You may be an insult machine, but hey! At least you’re consistent! Consistently terrible HAHAHAHAHA!”

#3:

“Jax! My favorite little chaos gremlin! If I could actually feel regret, you’d be the reason why!”

BUBBLE

“Jax. You’re a #&@$! ×@% $#=?+% #$&@Đ÷ €$?¤#@! @ $÷!# that %&ß$#! %@&#×˘! *?!&#@!+$ß×&Đ.”

___________________________

Caine’s voice boomed through the room, as energised as ever. “Well, wasn’t that simply spectacular? What a brilliant display of camaraderie! Look at you all, bonded through the magic of playful verbal annihilation! Why, I’d say this was the best team-building exercise yet!”

The room was buzzing with laughter and lingering amusement, the cast still fired up from the roasts. Even Ragatha, who had initially looked sceptical of the idea, was grinning ear to ear. Zooble leaned back with a smirk, Gangle wiped away what might have been tears of either joy or secondhand pain.

Jax was smiling too. The same lazy, smug grin he always wore. It was convincing enough that no one seemed to question it. But you had been watching him closely.

His smile wasn’t quite right.

Not enough teeth.

And his eyes – normally playful, always scanning for the next opportunity to push someone’s buttons – looked... distant. Unfocused.

The way he leaned back on the couch, his fingers tapping against his arm, his slight pull on his gloves, and his ears twitched every so often, like he was catching a sound no one else could hear.

No one else noticed.

But you did.

You knew what it looked like when someone acted like nothing was wrong, just to keep everyone else from seeing the cracks.

Caine, oblivious as ever, twirled in the air. “Alright, my wonderful wacky weirdos! This exercise is officially OVER! I expect nothing but besties for the resties energy from now on! Dismissed!”

The moment those words left Caine’s mouth, Jax stood up. Not too fast, not too slow – just natural enough to avoid suspicion. He stretched his arms over his head with a yawn, flashing his usual easygoing smirk. "Welp, that was fun. You guys almost made me feel something."

No one batted an eye as he wandered off.

You saw his hand clenching into a fist the second he turned away. The way his ears pinned back just slightly. The way his steps, while casual, had a certain... urgency to them.

You hesitated. For a second, you considered letting it go. He’d clearly rather be alone. But there was something about Jax that nagged at you. So, instead, you followed.

Jax moved with purpose, leaving the tent, weaving through the grounds, past the main attractions, past the places where the others usually went outside when needed “fresh air”. It wasn’t obvious at first, but after a few turns, you realised where he was going.

Your stomach twisted.

No way.

Jax slipped past a curtain of glitchy vines, making his way up a small hill behind the water park, where an old, gnarled tree stood. You had been here countless times before – it was your secret spot. The place you went when you needed to clear your head, when the circus became too much.

You hadn’t thought anyone else knew about it.

And yet, there he was.

Jax sat against the tree, his back pressed to the trunk, his arms loosely hugging his knees. His usual smug expression was gone, replaced by something emptier. He stared ahead at nothing, the glow of his eyes dimmer than you’ve ever seen it.

For a long moment, you just stood there.

Jax didn’t acknowledge you, but you could tell he knew you were there. His ear flicked slightly at the sound of your footsteps.

Still, he didn’t move.

Didn’t say anything.

Didn’t crack a joke or roll his eyes or tell you to scram.

That alone said a lot.

You approached slowly, stopping just a few feet away.

“…Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jax’s ears twitched. A beat of silence.

“No.”

It wasn’t sharp or defensive. Just flat. Dismissive.

You exhaled through your nose, tilting your head slightly. “You’re getting dangerously close to a full-on therapy session, y’know.”

Jax let out something that was almost a chuckle – but it was faint. Weak. His lips barely twitched, but he still didn’t look at you.

You shifted your weight, rocking back on your heels, studying him. You didn’t know what to make of this.

Jax wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be an annoying little shit. The guy who found amusement in messing with people, who took nothing seriously, who never let anyone in.

You recognised this.

The way he sat, curled in on himself just enough to seem smaller. The way his usual sharp edges had dulled. The way he was pretending to be fine even when he so clearly wasn’t.

It was familiar.

And you didn’t like that.

Because it meant you understood him more than you wanted to.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair before dropping down to sit beside him. You rested your arms on your knees, staring ahead at nothing, mirroring him.

You didn’t say anything else. You figured, if he did want to talk, he would. And if he didn’t? Well.

You could at least sit with him in the silence.

Minutes passed. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. Just… heavy. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The kind of quiet that wasn’t empty, but full of things that were left unsaid.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, but it gave you time to think about all the similarities you shared with Jax. Hiding everything behind jokes. Pushing people away before they could get too close. Pretending you didn’t need anyone when, deep down, you did. Maybe you were just as bad at being alone as he was.

Then, finally, Jax shifted. Just a little. His legs stretched out in front of him, arms still loosely draped over his knees. It wasn’t much. But it was something. Like he was letting a little crack appear in the wall he’d built around himself.

That small shift told you everything. You weren’t sure if he even noticed, but you could feel the weight of it. The way he was letting himself be… here. Not perfect. Not completely okay. But here. And that was enough.

"…You’re not alone," you murmured, barely above a whisper. It wasn’t meant to fix anything. Just a reminder.

He didn’t respond. But you didn’t need him to.

You both sat there, in the quiet, for as long as it took.

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garoujo · 2 years ago

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hiiiii !!! what are your thoughts on reader bumping into ex!gojo at a party, after not having seen him for years? his unboxing has taken a toll on me i’m patiently waiting for anyone to write fics for him 🤸🏻‍♀️

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — you don’t realise how much your heart still calls for your ex until you see him again, years later.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ contents! sort of angsty but mostly fluff! ex!boyfie gojo, ex’s to lovers sort of vibe, very much right person wrong time ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i’m so sorry this took me so long to get to nonnie, i’m also sorry this turned out sad snifle! i wrote it to this song so i blame that! i’m sorry i just had to post for him tonite!

maybe you should’ve just stayed at home, you think despite the way you know you don’t mean it, as you let the drink in your hand swirl around it’s cup a few more minutes longer. it’s lost its bubbles slightly, it’s leaning more towards an hour old— still untouched as you lean yourself against the kitchen counter while your friends catch up around you.

it’s been a while since you’ve seen everyone like this, a few years atleast you’d assume and it was fun, recalling back the memories— the drunken nights and the time you spent together, the seasons you experienced. there’s a sentimental sort of feeling to it all, you realise.

everyone’s different now, not only in looks— in spirit maybe, married and settled down, running their own business or jet setting abroad. your childhood bestfriend is taller, she smiles softer now— maybe it’s the ring on her finger or the love in her life. it suits her.

“hey! you still with us?” she calls to you, just as you hear the apartment door close again— alerting you to more guests despite the way there’s probably around fifteen of you here already. you jolt slightly, sending her a smile before you’re placing down your glass and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

you allow yourself a few breaths to relax before you smile at yourself in the mirror, it’s nice being able to see everyone again— not realising how much you’d missed them and suddenly you realise that you’re so happy to have lived.

you pat yourself on the cheeks as you give yourself a silent little nod, soft sort of smile in place as you push your way through the bathroom door again— maybe a little too determined to seize the night when you send yourself into a hard chest as you clumsily leave the room.

“ah! sorry, are you okay?” you begin as you try to steady yourself but there’s hands there to keep you from falling before you even realise you’re on your way down.

“oh? it’s been so long you’re jumping into my arms already?” familiar, you think as the teasing response sounds smoothly and you can’t help the way your body seems to stiffen at the sound— like instinct. you look up and there’s a warm sort of squeeze on your heart at the crystalline gaze that looks back, cheeky grin in place.

you should’ve expected to see him here after all, gojo satoru had always been a constant in your past, up until a few years ago. he was your now ex-boyfriend after all.

he always had this air that seemed to follow him around — this noble sort of presence but he was even more handsome now, unfortunately. he’d grown a little more in height but he filled it out better now. his hair is longer but his gaze is just as pretty, as breathtaking when it meets yours.

you’re pretty sure if this were a movie there’d be a trail of women at gojo’s feet — back of their hand against their forehead and fawning for his attention.

you can still recall the nights you cried on your kitchen floor for him.

“hey, after all these years, you’re getting shy on me?” you didn’t realise you’d zoned out until you blink up to see gojo looking at you, teasing tone and his long fingers flicking gently at your forehead until you’re sending him a cute frown. he remembers that look all too well.

“no, shutup! i just didnt expect to see you.” you fall back into the dynamic quickly, like he’d never left— both of you parted ways gradually you think. it’s not that the love wasn’t there, but you just felt like your life had taken you down separate paths.

gojo satoru was your right person, wrong time is what you’d tell strangers at parties.

“are you sure? it seems you had an attack planned for my arrival, pretty suspicious i’d say.” he goads, teasing you again and you roll your eyes before you’re shoving playfully at his chest.

“you’re still so annoying.”

“hm? are you just embarrassed i figured you out? did you really think you could catch me off guard with a move like that?” you wish you could say you hate gojo, truly. but it’s been years and instead you realise that it’s quite the opposite, because he’s already got you laughing like you’re both teenagers again.

sometimes you wish you’d known him sooner, even just so you could love him longer than you can now.

“yeah right, i could totally beat you if i tried.” you laugh again, teasing as a cheeky grin settles on your expression and gojo squeezes at your shoulder playfully before you’re both finding yourself returning to the group. but the laughter doesn’t falter.

“you want a beer, satoru?” your friend asks as you both enter the lounge and you cast the snowy haired man to your right a glance before he answers. he won’t take one, he never was a drinker.

“nah, aren’t i fun enough already? it wouldn’t be fair.” he jokes, you all laugh. like old times.

the night continues and you catch yourself looking in your ex boyfriends.. in gojo’s direction a little more frequently than you’d like to admit. but you’re having fun, you realise as you all exchange jokes— even going as far as to pull up videos from your old phones, little vlogs from your days at the beach, shopping trips and more.

you breathe again, nestling back into your place on the couch as the rest of your friends get up to dance to one of your old playlists from a few years ago. you remember it well, like the soundtrack to some coming of age movie.

you allow yourself to look at him once more, to take in the cut of his features— the way his lips still upturn at the corners when he grins and the way he still talks with his hands. you think it’s cute that he still wears his hair down, still doesn’t do the top button of his shirts— you wonder if he still takes four sugars in his coffee.

you feel something twist in your chest with the thought before you look away again. you think it’s embarrassing in a way, the way you’re wanting must show when you look at him. maybe it’s because you already know the feel of his hand on yours or the soft voice he’d always use to call you out of sleep, the taste of his coffee on his lips when he’d kiss you as the sun woke up.

you liked the now, but then you remember how gojo satoru loved you and it’s like you’re aching all over again.

you breathe deep before the couch cushion to your left sinks as someone sits down and you know it’s him when it grounds you.

“you’re not dancing, gojo?” you begin before he can say anything, giggle despite the turmoil in your mind, your heart, and he sends you a soft sort of look before he chuckles.

“oh no, after all those times you told me i was a terrible dancer? it broke my heart so much, i’ll never dance again.” still a drama queen, you think to yourself as you watch him press his palm to his chest — throwing his head back against the back of the couch as he sighs.

“yeah right, you had a great dance partner to level you out back then though.” gojo laughs at that one, nudging his thigh into yours slightly when he does, but neither of you seem to pull away at the touch.

he settles down and you let the silence hang in the space where you both take a breath before he speaks again,

“satoru is fine, you know. i was always satoru to you, no?” gojo questions gently, although still trying to make it more lighthearted than awkward, and you feel the tension leave your shoulders when you exhale.

“okay then, satoru.” comes more naturally than you’d like to admit, but you’re not ashamed of it either when you notice the soft sort of glow in gojo’s eyes when you speak it with fondness.

he looks at you, nods like he’s smug, then pushes himself up to stand. emphasising how tall he is as he sends you a cheeky sort of grin, followed by his arm outstretching to offer you his hand.

“well oh great dance partner, i may need your expertise. you wouldn’t want me to embarrass my handsome self infront of all our old friends, would you?” gojo whines playfully as he bows towards you, free hand on his heart like he’s begging you for his life.. just his pride this time though.

“‘toru..” you begin, a soft sort of breathe and you wonder if he can hear the hope in it— your own hand twitching by your side.

“come on, for old times sake. you said it yourself, i cant dance without my partner there to lead me, right?” gojo satoru had always been terribly convincing, you realise as you recall all the other moments he’d whisked you off into other great things. memories that you still look fondly back on now.

“fine, for old times sake, satoru.” you finally answer before your hand is resting on his, noticing that is palm still feels warm when he pulls you to your feet.

for the love that once was, and the love that remains.

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you

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ghostarii · 2 years ago

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CAN’T TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU ! ～ JING YUAN . ❛ i want your bliss on bliss; a little company!

˖ ⁺ ⫾  CONTENT WARNING fem!reader ❱ golf dad!jing yuan ❱ dilf!jing yuan ❱ groping ❱ praise ❱ breeding kink ❱ size kink ❱ perv!jing yuan ❱ PWP!!!!! ❱ age gap ❱ cunnilingus ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ pussy drunk!jing yuan ❱ locker room sex ❱ jy’s kinda gross ❱ coercion ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (pls stay safe) ❱ pet names (mostly pretty [girl] & little one ❱ dubious consent ❱ dirty talk ❱ not proofread in the slightest ❱ minors and dc antis do not interact.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  TIP i’ve had this idea floating around in my wee wittle brain for quite some time so here’s perv golf dilf jing yuan ! ! i didnt rlly have a plot for this nor an idea on how to execute the vibe in my mind so truly i apologize if this is not that good :’( this got way messier than intended n i took forever writing it cause i kept getting stuck. i rlly rushed this toward the end cause i rlly wanted to post it so i rlly hope u guys like it 😿 rbs n feedback is always greatly appreciated <33 (pls don’t report i worked rlly hard on this n comm guidelines r so mean)

˖ ⁺ ⫾  GB 7.2k+ words .

JING YUAN CAN’T help it. He doesn't know what drives him to do it; to stare at you until holes are burned in you or touch you carelessly or talk about you like you're a piece of meat, he can't help it. It's akin to a primal urge, or manly instinct that makes him defile you disgustingly and unapologetically—and it makes him feel like a gross teen boy whose dick grows hard at the simple mention of women, but it's something about this aura of naivety and peace that swarms you that brings this carnal desire out of him. You’re the perfect prey, helpless, unsuspecting, and trusting of the ill-intended, hungry predator. Everything makes his heart flutter and his stomach gnarl—he turns into a different man because of you.

Friendly, neighborhood, retired Army General and current Xianzhou Police Chief Jing Yuan was a mask to cover perverse, snobby, and icky pervert Jing Yuan; the one who got a kick at making you do silly tasks so he can stare up your skirt and who always told you to take a seat so he can press up on you and grope you indistinctly. He sees you and immediately a deviant fire is kindled in his chest, his cheeks heat up and his skin runs cold. It's nasty, but he can't help it.

He needs you selfishly. He can't stand to watch you talk to other men and tend to their needs—sure, it's your job to pour them lemonade and escort them to the spa and guide them around the country club for a look at all the activities, and he respects that you're a hard and diligent worker, but seeing you with other men boils his blood. It's as if the lines between reality and his fucked up fantasy world have blurred, and you belong to him, you're his woman and he stakes his claim on you like a wild animal. Jing Yuan likes how you don't question how he suddenly needs your assistance, and that it's impossible for anyone but you to do it, because it lets these other men know that you respond to him. He's never felt this way about a woman before, not even the mother of his own child, so it means you're special. You mean much deeper to him than you could ever understand and all he wants is your company and to love you down into the cage of his heart.

It's not a crime to have a crush. It's not a crime to be in love with a woman you barely know. And it's not a crime to imagine her stuffed with your kids after watching her interact with yours. A crime? No. Weird? Maybe; but Jing Yuan does it anyway.

On the occasion when he brings Yanqing to the club, he gets on his best behavior. They play friendly games of golf and lounge about in the garden area, and eat up a storm in the illustrious dining hall—normal father-and-son things. Nothing out of the ordinary, people wouldn't even know that all Jing Yuan could think about was you and how sweet your pussy must taste as he eats ice cream with his son. He stays on his best outward behavior, truly—you wouldn't have even known he was in the bathroom jerking off because something about you today set him off.

He walks into the dining hall, looking around to see you. Yanqing had run off to the pool ages ago, so Jing Yuan had some time to himself…or, rather, time for you and him. He thought about how he would take you and claim you for far too long now. He thinks about it too much, actually. And that’s insane; considering the fact that you only started working at Stargazer Navalia Country Club two months ago.

He goes to his usual spot: against the wall on the northeastern side of the hall. It's slightly tucked away, the ceiling lights on that side are dim and the roaming eyes of others are limited. It's perfect for him when he touches you and even more perfect to convince you to have a seat and chat with him. You always listen, always fall for his lonely old man act, even though you've seen him with his snob friends Luocha and Dan Feng, and he's more than well-known around the community—he’s far from lonely, but his lips utter such pitiful deception that you can't help but spare him some of your company.

Jing Yuan has been doing this for a few weeks. He’ll invite you over for a refill of the house's special lemonade, sipping the juice as soon as you finish pouring, letting his lips smack obnoxiously, his tongue running across his top lip, and muttering out an “Ahh, so sweet…”, keeping eye-contact with you. His plump, rosy lips will break into a smile at your widened eyes and flustered expression, and that's when he asks you to stay. “Wouldn’t you give me a moment of your time? C’mon…call it…customer service.”

Usually, he’ll sit across from you and ask about your day. He’ll listen to your short spiels about your coworkers or your university and even your extremely personal information about your family and friends. It's cute how you open up with abandon, and he likes how apologetic you get when you feel like you’ve spoken too much. He’ll reach across the table and tap your pouted lips, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Keep going,” and he stares at your lips as you talk his ear off. But today—today, Jing Yuan is pushing the limits.

He invited you over, and instead of you sitting across from him, he pulls the chair next to him. Your proximity is close, no closer than ever before, but close enough that you feel like he can hear your heartbeat. He drapes a buff arm around the back of your chair, the pads of his fingers just barely ghosting over your biceps. He takes a deep breath, presumably to settle into his seat but actually to breathe you in. You smell sweet. He wonders if you taste sweet.

“How was your day?” the man starts. It's okay, it's fine, it’s just Jing Yuan—he’s fine! You nod your head, “Okay…not too eventful but um…kind of busy.” He immediately replies “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

Your shift started at eleven o'clock this morning, and you clocked in slightly late earning your managers, Ms. Yukong, mouthful of scolding. “Again? This is the third time in a row…” She was a strict woman. Yukong was adamant about running an establishment—not a job. In her mind, there's a distinct difference, a fine line that separates Stargazer Navalia Country Club from other leisure resorts, and that line was drawn by poise, professionalism, and punctuation—the three Ps. You essentially lacked all of that. You’re always late, and if you’re not late, you’re just barely making it, you run around a lot and don't collect yourself. Oftentimes, you take on too much than you can handle and overwhelm yourself, making a fool of yourself before the very opinionated eyes of the patrons. And you were clumsy. The country club was your first service job and your first job ever. You wouldn't have gotten the job if your parents didn’t force independence upon you and you complained to your friend, Tingyun, about your unfair predicament, and she promised to put in a good word for you to her boss. That good word was a basket full of fabrications and exaggerations. Yukong told you that you were fortunate to be allowed to work at the club, but it was hanging in the balance if you didn’t step up your game.

Jing Yuan hadn’t expected a full rant, but he was glad that you felt like you could talk to him. He wants to hold you, tell you that Yukong is a miserable bitch and she doesn't know what the hell she's talking about. You can't do any wrong—that woman wouldn’t know poise, professionalism, and punctuation if it slapped her across the face, so who was she to criticize perfection?

He gets even more upset when your chest starts to heave and you’re blinking back tears, explaining how you cried after leaving Yukong’s office and felt so useless and stupid. And you made it your mission today to do your best. No overworking, no clumsiness, and no more strikes earned. Your head was on a dart board, and Yukong was aiming at the bullseye.

You told him you just wanted to be good. To be worth something because you aren't incompetent. If only you knew how he saw you.

Tears run down your warm cheeks and your frowned lips curve into a sad smile, a laugh escaping as you pat away tears from your eyes. “Sorry, I don’t mean to cry…”

“…I should be getting back to work…” You move to get up but Jing Yuan stops you, his big hand on your thigh. This isn't new, but your eyes meet and you almost burst into tears again. Your lips frown up again and quiver and your eyes gloss over—oh, you poor thing. He squeezes your thigh as if to tell you you’re okay, but when that doesn't seem to stop the tidal wave of tears from beating at the barrier of your blinking eyelids, he pulls you in.

It's a hug. You've hugged people before. You do it all the time. Even to him—you’ve hugged Jing Yuan before, but this? This is different. He cradles the back of your head as you rest your cheek on his shoulder and he kisses your hair softly. He’s warm, like the summer heat, and your body feels like it’s on fire. His fingers stroke at your hair as if he was trying to soothe your feelings, and it works, you sniffle and softly whimper, curling your fingers against his thighs. He's taking care of you and if only you could understand what you’re doing to him. His cock is slowly growing stiffer and heat lights beneath his skin as it does yours. You feel so weak and small in his hold and God, is it doing something to him. Your breathing brushes your tits against his side and he wants to feel them pressed against his chest as he pounds into you. Your sniffles and tears that form small puddles on his shirt make him think about how you would cry from overstimulation and his big cock stretching you out.

He needs to get a grip. To stop his gross thoughts but it's no use when your entire existence is an aphrodisiac to him. It was a short hug, no longer than a minute, but it felt like it lasted a lifetime. When you pull away, Jing Yuan can't look at you. He can't look at your flushed cheeks, glossy eyes, clumped lashes, and pouted lips—he can’t look because he won’t be able to contain himself. You clear your throat and sit up, wiping your eyes and smudging your cheap mascara. He’s slightly upset that you’re leaving already, so before you go, he pinches the hem of your shirt, pulling you back.

“It's gonna be okay, little one. Have a good day.” He pats your head and smiles at you. You get flustered and quickly nod, running off as if to disappear.

You find it hard to have a good day when you’re wrapped up in your head, thinking about Yukong, yourself, and Mr. Jing Yuan. He was a nice man, sometimes too nice and you were unsure if that was a negative or a positive.

His touches feel like they’re burned into your skin. When you think about his tight, warm, and world-erasing hug, your skin tingles and births goosebumps to the surface. When you think about his deep, reverberating voice praising you and denying the existence of imperfection in you, you run hot. It’s a dangerous juxtaposition that left you an unfocused mess, productivity being the last thing of your concern. How bothered your body felt was in big bold letters in your brain, and it was hard to not prove Yukong’s harsh words about you right. You needed to get it together, but it was hard when Jing Yuan lingered in your mind like a deadly plague.

You catch Tingyun up during your dishes duty, scrubbing the dirtied plates, bowls, spoons, and forks and passing them to the girl to be dried. She laughs at you, shaking her head as she spins her hand around the inside of the porcelain bowl. “Can I be honest with you?” You nod at Tingyun’s question, “his intentions are less than pure. He’s nice and all but I think you should create boundaries. I don't like how every time you tell me about him he's grabbing on you and stuff…”

You have an issue with seeing the best in people. You can’t see anybody as evil—their actions don’t define their character in your mind and that's a fatal flaw. You shake your head at Tingyun’s words, smiling, “I don’t agree. He’s just…I don’t know.” you shut the water off, and set down the plate in your hand. “I think he’s just lonely—”

“—He has friends. His golfing buds…?” She points out. You sigh and shake your head. “Yeah, but they don't come to the club often.”

Tingyun rolls her eyes. “Can you be for real? What company can you provide to a man who’s nearly double your age?”

On that front, Tingyun had a point. You’re still in college, barely coasting your way through your third year and Jing Yuan is in his mid-to-late thirties, pushing forty. He was a dad and you were a student. He lived his life—he’s on his second career, and you’ve only just barely begun working your first job. You never knew what to talk to him about and you never understood what he talked about. There was a disconnect, but you felt like that didn't impede the slight friendship you had. “He just needs someone to talk to!”

“Didn't know talking included his hands on your ass but okay.” Her snide remark makes you frown. He wasn’t all that bad. Tingyun didn't get it.

Her eyes immediately meet yours and she softens. “Sorry.” You nod to her apology, cutting the tap back on and resuming your work. You didn't like to be judgemental and you wanted to give Jing Yuan the benefit of the doubt. He wasn’t all that bad and you liked him—for the most part. She pats your shoulder softly. She does mean well. “Just be safe, okay?”

“You never know what’s going on in someone's head.”

It’s so hot. The weather forecast called for unbearable heat and ungodly levels of humidity. The sun was angry at the world, shining down harshly and roasting your skin. Surprisingly, the club had seen the most members today. It was filled to the brim, bustling and condensing heat at every corner that you couldn’t escape.

Your uniform was dripping in sweat and it was sticking to your skin. Your hair, pulled away from your face, felt like it was dripping onto your shoulders. You were hot. And luckily for you, Qingque had taken off from work today due to the heat, leaving her shift open. You swooped in and took the role, slipping off your uniform when the clock hit 2:30 and sliding into the lifeguard swimsuit. It was tight fitting but comfortable and paired with the visor blocking the mean sun from your face, you felt fine.

Lathering a security layer of sunscreen onto your skin, you make your way to the pool, reciting Yukong’s words in your head. You had met with her at the beginning of your shift where she told you this was your last chance. Lifeguarding wasn’t some fun easy-money task. Screwing around the way you usually do could be at the cost of someone’s life and she wouldn’t put anyone at risk. At all. So you go with your head up and a warm smile, climbing up and sitting down with a hawk eye on the pool.

The water was clear blue and rippling. Bare flesh and bright swimsuits are blurred and hazy under the surface of the water. It’s a nostalgic scene, sweet chatter and giggles from the playing children, splashing water, and pattering wet feet on the hot pavement work together to induce peace upon you. This is a scene you could get used to, especially when Jing Yuan emerges from the water.

He looks divine. His upper body is exposed, large muscles flexed as he lifts his body weight from beneath the water, resting on the edge of the pool. His water-darkened hair slumps heavily in his ponytail, flipping over as he shakes his head, ridding of the water. And the water spills down his skin deliciously, thick droplets pathing down his body. It’s a sight to behold and you can't help but stare.

Jing Yuan wonders if this is how you feel. Ogled and objectified down to the bone. Your shade-hidden eyes bore into him when they should be watching the children. But he likes it. He feels like today is going to be a good day.

He comes to the pool often, usually just watching Yanqing show him his “tricks”, but he notices the order. The lifeguards cycle every forty-five minutes. He noticed it the first time when one of them took off immediately after jumping in after a panicking Yanqing, but today it was going to come to his aid. Today was the day. He’d waited too long, thought about it too hard…Jing Yuan’s fantasy world was going to pour into reality. That in itself was a terrible horror.

He waits patiently for forty-five minutes. Splashing water with his son occasionally, stepping out of the pool for a rest, or waving at you as he floats atop the water. Forty-five minutes. Tick tock.

He stops you on your way inside. His towel was thrown over his shoulder and his wet hair slung up into his fixed ponytail. You’re so enthralled by his state that you aren't taking into consideration the lazily fabricated lie that he needed your urgent attention to. You were no dummy. Jing Yuan is an overly attractive man, but he was out of your league and the father to a boy only seven years younger than you. Your lives were incompatible and frankly, he wasn't what you were looking for. Attractive? Yes. Boyfriend material? Not so much.

Regardless, you follow him to the locker room to look for his supposed missing watch. You ask him where his locker is located and he points around the corner, “125D.” His locker is tucked off around the corner, deep in the row and far from anyone’s initial line of sight. You see his golf bag resting against the wall and Yanqing’s goggles on the bench and make your way to it, “Where did you last have the watch?”

This was way out of your jurisdiction, and, besides, he was the police chief—what the hell could you do to help him find a missing watch? Nonetheless, you listen intently as he provides the details: he took it off to go swimming, placed it on the shelf in the locker, and came back to find it missing. You nod slowly, diligently looking through the slim locker. There’s not much in it and not much space a watch could slip through, so you’re confused. It's clearly not here. “I don't think I can be much help for you, you’re better off checking with whoever was in here last.”

And then his body is close to you. Your proximity thickens with the chlorine and sandalwood scent he carries, and his broad form towers over you. Your breath hitches and your body tenses as a large hand lays against the back of your thigh, running up your bare skin until it meets the curve of your ass. He doesn't say anything. Neither do you. You feel like you’re frozen, stuck beneath him, and that only urges him further.

His other arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you in, resting his chin on your shoulder and breathing you in with a deep breath. You can feel his exhale on your neck and you shudder, pushing away to create distance. Jing Yuan only tightens his big grip on you, “I want you…” he murmurs, leaning into your neck. His lips ghost over your skin and you squirm, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. This can't be happening. Not here. Not now.

You try to tell him that but it's futile. He presses his slightly chapped lips against your neck in fluttery kisses, wrapping his lips around nips of skin every now and then and leading a path to your collarbone. He steals a look at you from the side, “Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop.”

He now frames your body beneath his, pressing you against the cold lockers. You wince at the harshness of how he handles you—how his hands incessantly run up and down your body and gropes your assets and how he grinds his dick against your ass. He breathes heavily against you, grunting and growling in your ear as he edges himself closer and closer to the brink of losing control.

You try to speak up. To tell him you can't do this and that here is not the place. But you part your lips to object, only for a whimper to escape in its place. You’re shaking your head no but it opposes the sounds that leave you and the subconscious grind back of your hips. Jing Yuan uses his right hand to cup your pussy with a hardened gaze watching your reaction: your eyes widen and then squeeze shut, and you roll your lips inward, pressing them shut. He feels a slight throb when he presses his fingers against your sex, and the heat that radiates from you is all telling. “Stop fighting it…don’t deny it…you need me to take care of you.”

Kisses on your neck resume as he rubs your clothed clit, using the way your knees buckle as leverage to slightly bend your over, grinding into you rougher. “Can't you feel how hard you make me, baby? Fuck,” he whispers, his grinding now turning into desperate rutting. “Indulge me, just a little…say yes…”

You’re shaking your head no, fighting his words. You think that if you close your eyes hard enough you’ll wake up in the real world and this will have all just been in your head. The sight of the lockers in front of you dispels that thought instantly. You fight against your own body, swallowing down the sounds of pleasure that rumble in you at his touch. You promised Yukong you would do a better job. You liked working here. If she found out you had sex with a customer during work hours in the public locker room, she’d have your head on stake. But God, he knew what he was doing. It’s like Jing Yuan knows how to get into your head. All of his innuendos day in and day out, his flirtatious banter, and his wandering eyes the past few months have been test runs on you that he’s conducted for his fucked up memory log. So he could prepare for this moment. So he knew how to make you weak and make you succumb to his advances. You were a nice girl with a hard time saying no. You always indulged his requests and always did what was told to you. His constant “Say yes, baby. Say it. You know you want this,” in your ear was persuasive enough for your weak resolve. Soon enough, you’re quietly parroting his words.

“Y-yes…I…I want it,” you huff out, and he stops.

Jing Yuan lets you go—pulling off of you and spinning you around. Then, he’s swiftly pushing you against the lockers, caging you in with his big arms on either side of you. His golden eyes are richer, darkened with fantasy and lust as they bore into yours. His rosy lips curve into a sinister smirk, “Look me in my eyes and say you want me to fuck you.”

Your eyes meet, locking with each other softly. You’re telling yourself in your head that you can say no, but your mouth moves first, “I want you…to…” you grow shy at the words, and Jing Yuan smiles at you. He steps closer, grabbing your chin softly and your waist with his free hand, pulling you in. “Sweet girl…” he mumbles, brushing his lips against yours and bumping your noses.

Your kiss is sweet. It's the type of fairytale kiss, the type of wonderful kiss that whips the air out of you and has fireworks blowing in your pretty little head. Your lips mold and work together, and he takes his time getting acquainted with your mouth. He waits until you part your lips on your own to invade your mouth, and even then, he tenderly explores the cavern. He kisses you with dominance and experience. He kisses you with passion and desire. He kisses you like he’s in love with you.

You wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him into you, chasing his kiss as if he was trying to leave you. It begins to heat up. Impatience grows like mold between the two of you, you begin to want and need each other more. His hand gripping your chin wraps briefly around your neck to pull you closer, and his hand around your waist moves to your ass, cupping a cheek in his palm and roughly squeezing. He sucks on your tongue, moaning deeply into your mouth. Teeth start to clash and tongues start to bump and spin, spit dribbling out of your mouths. He bites onto your bottom lip as he pulls away, and then catches the drool running down your face with his tongue, running back up on its path to your mouth. With your saliva on his tongue, he kisses you harshly one last time—a kiss that makes you lean your head against the lockers behind you, giving him access to the expanse of your neck.

He admires the hickeys he already left, kissing them tenderly before leaving a few more. His teeth drag on your neck, and he's pulling the straps of your swimsuit down your arms. It's agonizingly slow and you look away, not able to face him as he unveils your body to him.

It's like a dream. Even better than. All of his fantasies and perverted thoughts haven't done any justice to how you look—the most perfect, pretty boobs with hard nipples that are begging to be played with, the most gorgeous frame that pops even more without your clothes, your dips and curves begging to be filled by his grip, and your pretty pussy, which he takes his time getting to and unveiling. He gets on his knees, kisses your soft thighs, and slowly pulls your swimsuit down to your ankles. You try to hide, feeling vulnerable and anxious in your fully naked state but he pulls your legs apart, kissing the inside of your thigh. “You’re beautiful…”

“Prettiest thing I've ever seen…” he says, trailing up your legs. He doesn't give you time to fall into your mind. He exhales deeply, letting the air from his nose blow against your pussy. You squirm but he pulls your legs apart again, looking up at you as he places a chaste kiss on your slit.

You’re already wet, susceptible to his touch, and fragile. You slightly leak past your labia and his lips shine in your slick. Eye contact remains as he licks your arousal off his lips, swallowing your taste with a satisfied hum. “So sweet, too. Better than I ever imagined.”

Something about his admission flusters you. You knew he enjoyed your company, but you didn't know he put thought into you this way. It flatters you, to say the least, and your body responds in a very telling way: your clit throbbing and hole clenching in need.

Jing Yuan smiles at how you can't hold eye contact with him and how you look down at him with urging eyes. Your body gives him the okay your mouth fails to do, and he dives in, wedging his tongue between your folds to lick a thick stripe. You gasp loudly and slam your palm against the locker behind you, seemingly caught off guard by his action. And then he does it again. This time, making his way to your clit slowly, only to circle around the bud but not pay it any attention. And again, this time only lightly flicking your clit with his tongue and ghosting over it but ultimately focusing on collecting your sweet juices, slurping it down with an obnoxious volume.

Your position is fixed—you’re stuck. Your legs are draped over his shoulders as you basically sit on his face, and he holds you tightly by your soft thighs. Your gaze is filed unto each other, unmoving, and he watches with glee at how you react when he finally gives your clit attention. He wraps his lips around the bud, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. You practically burst into tears. You moan out, immediately threading your fingers in his white locks. “Oh, fuck,”

He abuses your clit until your voice goes hoarse. He doesn't care that people could probably hear you. He wants them to. He wants them to hear his name flow from your mouth like syrup out of a maple tree—thick in lust and fatally sweet. Your moans sound even prettier in reality. Jing Yuan has come to the conclusion that you are one of a kind. No wild or active imagination could do you justice. He could eat you out for days—you’re just so sweet and so easy to please. Your clit getting sucked on sets you off and when he runs his thick tongue through your sloppy folds to collect your stream of arousal, you whine even louder, competing with his slurping and licking noises.

“I want you to cum on my tongue, pretty girl,” he says, pulling away from your folds. “Wanna taste all of you,” and he presses a kiss to your clit. You suck your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding rapidly, “Please! Wanna cum so bad…”

He’s determined now. Like a man starved, he practically feasts on you. His tongue is everywhere—licking and swirling from every direction and it drives you insane. You can feel the burning tension in your gut churn and to egg its release out of you, you toy with your nipples, resting your head against the lockers as ecstasy overcomes you. You whine and whimper out meek little “Yes!”’s and “Oh, God!”’s like those are the only words you know, feeling your orgasm so close that it heats your skin to the touch.

Your back arches and eyes blow wide, your body fighting against itself. You trap his head between your thighs but push his head away, damn near screaming at the top of your lungs that it's too much and you can't take it. This pushes Jing Yuan to do more, to tighten his hold on your thighs and suffocate himself in your pussy. Knock the tip of his nose against your puffy clit and probe your clenching hole with his tongue. His jaw hurts but he keeps it up well, humming and moaning endlessly to send warm vibrations through your skin. His name breaks off of your tongue so weakly and your head feels light. It's like something in you snaps, like all composure and decency melts off of you in an instant. You could care less about Yukong or anybody else for that matter. This entire room could cease to exist and it wouldn't matter because Jing Yuan has blasted you off to cloud nine. The feeling of his tongue swimming through your folds is pleasure in its purest form and it pushes you to the deep end, drowning you in overwhelming ecstasy.

The grip you have on his hair tightens and you pull the long locks as if it’d stabilize you from the wreckage your pending orgasm was bringing upon you. A silent moan falls from your lips, followed by an airy plea, “J-Jing Yuan, please..!” Your voice falters and falls into another broken moan. Your back arches yet again and your hips buck into his face, and there it is. That tight band in your stomach snaps and your orgasm wracks through you roughly. Your thighs shake and your chest heaves heavily—you feel like you can't breathe. And he doesn't let up, wrapping his lips around your sensitive clit for the harshest suck of the night, humming happily as you squirm and spasm in his hold.

You come undone, dripping down his face like a rushing waterfall. He cleans you up with his tongue, continuing to help you come down from your high even as you whimper and sniffle from overstimulation. With peppery kisses, he pulls away from your pussy, licking his lips clean and rolling his eyes at your taste. “You did so good for me, baby.”

A carnal glint shines in his eye as he takes your waist in his hands, pulling you into him for a kiss. Your lips connect with fervor. He immediately establishes dominance, invading your mouth with hunger and greed. Your teeth clash and knock and your tongue is bullied by his. Your taste on his mouth is strong and it's hard to ignore it, and on him, it tastes wonderful. Your legs are jelly, useless. He holds you up with his hands but ultimately decides to press you against the lockers once again, grinding his painfully aching hard-on onto your thigh. No. This can't happen. The longer you're in the locker room with him, the more risk that's run. People are going to start leaving the club soon, and you don't know what you’d do if they caught you like this.

You try to push him away but he only presses into you more, rutting against you more desperately and aggressively. You gave him an inch, and now he's going to take a mile.

He growls against your lips before pulling away, resting his forehead on yours. “Gotta have you, baby,” he starts, pulling down his swim trunks. His hard cock jumps out, leaking and hard and so thick it makes your eyes bulge out of your head. You can't do this. You open your mouth to protest but he just kisses you again, shutting you down instantly. He takes your hand in his, bringing it down to his dick, and forces you to hold his girth in your hand. He's heavy and hard. Two prominent veins bulge and throb and his angry tip spills milky beads of precum into a pool in his slit. He makes you jerk him off, groaning into your mouth deeply, “Fuck. Need you so bad, little one. Need your sweet little pussy wrapped around me, need to feel you, to fill you—oh, fuck. Let me? Give me that, please.”

He practically begs you. He ruts into your hand and speaks into your mouth like a bitch in heat—you’re finding it hard to deny him. And he keeps begging. Keeps nipping at your lips and swiping your jaw now and then with his tongue. He's desperate. And you feel like you have no choice. “…Okay.”

Jing Yuan doesn't notice the uncertainty in your tone. He nearly jumps for joy, kissing you so passionately and hooking his hands on your ass, hoisting you up into the air. You squeal and he laughs, kissing you again as he properly positions his tip at your entrance. “Been thinking about this since I first laid eyes on you,”

As he starts talking, he slowly slides you down on his length. You gasp and wince—he’s so fucking big. Your nails immediately dig into his shoulders and you try to brace yourself, but good God, it’s like he’s splitting your body into two. He slowly sinks in, kissing your cheeks and mumbling praises that don't do much to ease the burn of the stretch. You almost want to stop, but he's like a brick wall. Impossible to get through.

“You’re so tight…” He feels like he’s breaking you in. Like you’re untouched and not prepared to take him and it sets him off. Your whimpers are sweet and the way you hug him like you're scared to let go ignites that all-too-familiar carnal flame. He wants to ravage you. It takes a few moments but he finally bottoms out with a deep groan. “So tight…so wet…fuck, it's like you’re made for me.” He does an experimental thrust and his heart swells at how you moan into his ear and clench around him tighter. “Taking me so well,”

This starts a rhythm of slow thrusts, the two of your bodies getting to know each other. Jing Yuan is so big and he feels even bigger inside of you. Your cunt feels like it's being reformed in its shape, stretching around him widely to accommodate every bit of him. And your pussy around him was so worth the wait. Your gummy walls welcome him with a tight, warm hug, and you leak down his length unabashedly. The combination of your arousal and his slow thrusts get you two acquainted quickly, and he steadily starts to pick up the pace.

Jing Yuan has shortly found his rhythm. He thrusts up into you while simultaneously maneuvering your hips down and you’ve never felt anything like this before. He pounds you. Hard. Rough. And slowly gains speed. His heavy balls slap at your ass and your puffy clit kisses his pelvis and it all makes you weak. You bury your head into his neck and pull him closer to you, feeling enveloped in his strong hold. How he's easily able to hold you up and fuck you the way is he makes your stomach churn and knot. There's a rhythmic slapping that coordinates with his grunts and your cries and it's so loud and lewd, you’re sure the whole country club knows what you're doing. But it doesn't bother you. Because yet again, Jing Yuan works your body like an expert, plunging into your depths so well that you can't do anything but clench and drip around him like a broken faucet.

His hands are on your ass, squeezing and slapping your cheeks to make you squeal out, practically yelling his name for the masses. It all feels too good. He knows what he's doing—how to angle his hips and find your G-spot almost instantly and abuse it until you feel like your brain has melted into mush, how to mix the pain of his calloused hands slapping your ass sweetly with the pleasure he bestows upon you, how to sweet-talk into your ear and flatter you so well that butterflies are born in your tummy and your hole clenches even tighter around him. He's experienced. He's taking your body on a trip it's sure to never forget and never replicate, and you wish you knew how he did it, because he’s only been thrusting into you for a few minutes and you feel like you're about to explode.

He's now pounding into you more furiously, and you chalk that up to his orgasm approaching him as well. “I'm gonna cum again—!” you announce, voice low in a broken whisper. His thrusts get sloppy and he grunts to concur, “Me too—look at me,”

Your eyes meet and this might be the rawest moment you've ever had with Jing Yuan. There's nothing but passion and adoration in his golden eyes as he looks at you. And as he kisses you for the nth time this evening, it's soft. Kind. A complete one-eighty from how desperately and angrily he bullies his thick cock into your drooling cunt. “Cum with me.” It's more of a demand than a request, but you nod in understanding anyway. You want to feel him throb and empty out his balls inside you. You want to hear his voice crack and break as he moans out your praises. You want to feel him give it to you until he can't anymore.

He snaps his hips into you, hard and one at a time. He goes as deep as possible, making your eyes blow wide and spill tears. He's so deep in your stomach it's almost like he pops the bubble of your orgasm himself, and you're spilling all over him in a matter of seconds. It was unexpected and you drawl out a whiny moan, grinding your hips back onto him subconsciously. Your orgasm makes him follow suit, and soon enough, you're filled to the brim with his semen. Warm ropes mix nastily with your own release and it drips out of your hole as he continues to thrust through your orgasms.

“Oh shit…’s good, little one.” He kisses your cheek and carries you to the bench, laying you down. “One more for me, ‘kay?”

Your mind is lagging behind. You didn't even catch his statement until he was sliding into you again, pressing your hands against your stomach to feel him inside of you. “So deep…”

“Yeah? Feels good, doesn't it?” He wastes no time, not sparing a second to waste. You're still so sensitive, and so is he, and everything is so sloppy. So messy. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he finds your sweet spot again, and fuck, it feels so good. “‘M not gonna last…”

Jing Yuan basically crushes you against the hard bench, closing the proximity between you two and harboring the flame between your chests. His head in the crook of your neck shakes, “Me neither. Want you to keep it all in.” His pathetic rutting elicits the wettest sounds from your pussy, and the empty locker room echoes it around with bass. He runs on and on about stuffing you full, fucking his kids into you and you don't know what at what point that started to sound good to you. Your belly rumbled in that all-too-familiar wait, your orgasm wasted no time in building.

Your eyes start to tear even harder and white blotches soon cover your whole line of sight—but not before Jing Yuan stills inside of you, dumping his second load inside of you with a guttural groan and clench of his abdomen. He rubs rough circles on your clit, murmuring about how you can do it until you clench around him, squirming beneath him as your orgasm hits you again. He doesn't pull out. He keeps you plugged up with his cock, forbidding his cum from leaving you. You didn't expect this to happen. Ever. But Jing Yuan? He always knew. It was just a matter of when.

So when your sight returns and you open your eyes to see him leaning over you, you smile happily. It was almost like you're Cinderella and he's Prince Charming, coming to rescue you from your hellish job in the most unconventional way possible. But unconventional feels good.

He won. No matter what he had to do, he won. His fantasy came to fruition and he would rather nothing else. This moment will be forever cherished, even if the distant opening of the door sounds off, and footsteps rapidly approaching bring you back to reality. He won. And nothing, or nobody, can change that. You’re all his now.

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail #honkai smut #honkai star rail x you #minors & ageless blogs do not interact.#hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr jing yuan #hsr x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x you #☆. on queue #jing yuan #hsr angst #hsr fanfic #jing yuan imagines

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slasherscream · 1 year ago

Text

He’s Just Not That Into You

pairing: jordan li x reader

summary: a hopeless romantic, you keep looking for love in all the wrong places, with all the wrong guys. that is, until you meet jordan li, who takes pity on you and tries to help you learn when a guy just isn’t into you.

gif credit: artemidosgifs

“You good?”

"Huh?" Dazed and drifting, you look up from your incredibly important task of peeling off the label for the worst tasting artisanal beer ever created.

You quickly remember why you focused on the task in the first place. The lighting at this party sucks. It's mostly dim, to try and hide all the unsavory things happening in every corner of the house. The brightest bits of it are all flashing. Neon blue. Neon red. Neon green. As if anyone has ever looked good in neon green lighting. That plus the never-ending movement of people dancing is enough to make you sick.

"Are you good or are you starting to tweak?" Your eyes adjust enough to see who's talking and you sit up straighter. Jordan Li. Number #2.

She's wearing her ever present scowl that makes you study extra hard in Brink's class. You don't ever want to be in the position to have to ask for clarification on an assignment or further guidance. Brink's so busy being renowned that he's a pretty absent teacher, if you're not one of his favorites. Everything menial falls to Jordan.

"I'm good! Totally good. Just vibing, y'know."

Jordan stares down at you, looks back out onto the sea of partygoers, "What vibe do you think you're matching?"

“Excuse me?”

"You've been sitting here for almost twenty minutes. You've barely moved. Did you take something?"

"No! I.... I didn't take anything. I'm just enjoying the atmosphere."

Jordan rolls her eyes, takes the beer bottle from your hand, and then takes your hand itself. She pulls you to your feet, easy, despite the way you go limp at the last second to try and stay seated. Without a word she begins to pull you through the crowd. Bewildered, you follow.

She doesn't stop till you're outside on the porch. Surprisingly, no one else is lingering. But the air has a chill that's pretty biting for an early day in fall. You take a deep breath. You hadn't realized how loud the music really was. How overwhelming every smell. The itch that crawled across your skin with each jostle of a body coming too near.

"Yeah, you look like you were really enjoying the atmosphere." Jordan drawls, leaned up against the railing, observing you.

Your first instinct was to say 'fuck you' to that, obviously. But at the last second you remember she is your TA and is probably doing all the actual grading for every assignment you turn in.

You force a smile, "Thank you. Guess I was feeling pretty anxious."

"What are you even doing here?"

"Should... I mean, I was... invited? If that's what you're asking. Although I think crashing parties is pretty typical college stuff, even if I wasn't-"

“Not what I meant.” Jordan interrupts, “I mean you don’t usually go to parties. I never see you at any of them.”

“Maybe we just run in different circles.”

“Not really. You’re in the top ten now. What did you jump to, number 6?”

“Seven, actually.”

“Really? Well, won’t be long. Number 6 is a dick. He’ll be easy to knock out with the type of stats you’re pulling this year.”

Somehow, this compliment bewilders you more than anything. Jordan must see it on your face, because she rolls her eyes again.

“I keep an eye on the competition. Even if you are just a sophomore.”

“Okay, Junior.” You narrow your eyes at her. She narrows hers back, which feels like overkill, because she was already glaring.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Did they hire you to be the bouncer for this party?”

“Jesus, ‘m just making conversation. You looked like you were gonna hurl in there. What? Did your friends drag you here then ditch you?”

“My friends would never do that. That violates the party safety rule. Arrive together, leave together.”

“Oh of course.” She says, nodding in a way that feels sarcastic.

“I actually came without my friends.” You say, standing up straighter. Proud of yourself for stepping out of your shell even if it ended on a sour note.

“You did?” Jordan raises an eyebrow. You deflate a little at the shocked tone. Even your TA thinks you’re lame.

“Well…. I was supposed to meet someone here. But they… I dunno, I must’ve missed them. Or whatever.”

“Who were you supposed to meet?”

You hesitate for a second, but they impatiently gesture for you to go on. So, begrudgingly you admit to, “Uuuuh… Andre?”

“Andre?” In the blink of an eye they shift, and take a step closer. As if he wants you to see the disbelief on his face as clearly as possible. “How do you know Andre?”

“What happened to we run in the same circle?” You snap back. “Andre’s top ten.”

“Andre’s a fucking nepo baby.” Jordan scoffs

“Aren’t you friends?” You frown.

“Andre barely shows up to class, he knows why he’s top ten, trust me.” Jordan says. “Andre invited you?”

“Yes, Andre invited me. We were at the club last week and you know…talked.”

“You were at the club? You’re changing it up like crazy this year, huh L/N?”

“Lot of good it’s doing me.” You sigh. You twist the sleeve of your top, wrinkling the fabric. You’d spent hours picking out the perfect outfit that looked like you weren’t trying too hard, but brought out all your best features.

Jordan’s face twists, you’d almost mistake it for sympathy, “Did you see Andre at all tonight?”

“Did he come here with you?”

“Would you like me to lie or tell you the truth?”

You sigh, moving to sit down on the porch steps, emotionally and socially exhausted. “It’s okay, I already know the answer.”

A moment of silence before Jordan moves to sit beside you. He offers back up the beer he took from you earlier, “You look like you could use a drink.”

“Eh, you have it. If you’re not a germaphobe. Thanks for rescuing me.”

Jordan shrugs, takes a sip and almost spits it right back out, “God it tastes like fucking piss.”

“You weren’t very nice to me during the rescue, so you didn’t deserve a warning.”

“Well fuck me, I guess.” He laughs, staring at you. He let’s out a sigh of his own, “So which line did he use?”

“Huh?”

“What did Andre say to you?”

“He didn’t use a line.” You protest.

“Andre doesn’t know how to do anything but use a line. Wait! Lemme guess,” Jordan looks you up and down before glancing at a few rings on your hand. “Were you wearing those?”

You stare back at him.

“Well?”

“Yes, I was, why?”

“Did he come up to you with one of them and ask if you dropped it?”

“.....Maybe. I repeat, why?” You ask, stomach twisting.

“Cause he slipped it off your finger with his powers so he’d have an opening. It’s his go to for girls that look shy. Seen it a million times.”

“Oh, well, that’s lovely, actually. Fuck me!” You groan, laying back against the steps and throwing your hands over your face. “You’re really good at comforting people, did you know that?”

“I’ve been told to work on it.”

“Clearly not enough.”

“Just didn’t want you to fall for the bullshit any more than you already have.”

You scrub your face harshly, trying to ignore the tightness in your throat. “Sorry. Do you like apples? I can put a nice shiny one on your desk Monday morning as a thank you for the solid.”

“Are you about to cry?” Jordan asks, bewildered.

“No.”

“Over Andre Anderson?”

“No!” You sit up, glaring at him. He glares back. “Not exactly. It’s just… I don’t put myself out there a lot. So it sucks. That I tried… and all I got was a guy who fed me a line he’s used a million different times on a million different girls, who then ditched me at a party he invited me to. I should’ve just fucking stayed home.”

You sniffle and then remember who you’re actually talking to and how awkward it’s going to be to see their face Monday morning for class if you keep spilling your guts. You stand up abruptly, already planning on apologizing for whatever you said while you were “drunk” tonight. You’re opening your mouth to make your excuses, already taking steps away from the stairs when Jordan reaches out, grabbing you gently by the wrist.

“Wait! I’m… sorry, I mean-”

“Why are you sorry?” You sniff, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I could’ve… I could’ve been nicer. About telling you. About Andre.” Jordan pulls you to sitting back down beside him, slowly, so you can pull away if you really wanted to.

“It’s okay. I should’ve known better.” You say quietly.

“Hey, no. I made it sound like he’s super obvious about it but he’s honestly pretty smooth. His only hobbies are picking up girls and cocaine. He could make… fucking, I dunno, Ellen Ripley blush if he had the prep time! It’s really not your fault.” The comment surprises a wet laugh out of you and Jordan smiles, bumping your shoulders together.

“Thanks, but he probably was obvious. I just… don’t see stuff like that coming very well.” You laugh bitterly.

“What do you mean?”

“I apparently just can’t tell for shit when a guy is actually into me! Or just… entertaining himself.” You sigh.

You and Jordan sit in silence for a second. You have no clue what’s going on in his head. You see him tapping his finger on the beer bottle, the sound of his rings the only noise for a moment.

“I could help you.”

“Help me what?”

“I could teach you how to spot when a guy is just being an asshole or when he’s serious about you. So this doesn’t happen again.” Jordan shrugs, taking another swallow of the beer, flinching again at the taste.

“Piss kink or short term memory loss?”

“Offer retracted.” Jordan laughs.

“Why are you offering in the first place?”

Jordan shrugs, looking out in the distance, “You’re… cool, y’know. Think of it as a welcome to the top ten gift. You’re only gonna get more and more attention now that you’re there. You’ll need to be able to sniff out bullshit or you’ll get eaten alive. No offense.”

“I’ve been in the top ten for the last six months.” You scowl.

“Mazel tov.”

“Dick.” You scoff, fighting back another laugh. You and Jordan make eye contact and both lose the battle, laughing together.

You take a deep breath once the fit passes, “This isn’t a top ten humiliation ritual of initiation thing, right?”

“I’m way too busy to waste my time doing stupid shit like that.” Jordan says, familiar glare falling back onto his face.

“Sorry, rough night, had to ask.” You say sheepishly. “Offer still open?” You smile, extending your hand out for a handshake.

“Yeah, offers still open, L/N.” Jordan rolls his eyes, but he does shake your hand.

“So, number’s one pretty obvious but we have to establish the basics because you told me you were hopeless.” Jordan sips her chocolate milkshake.

“Didn’t use the word hopeless, but sure.” You mutter, tossing a fry into your mouth and frowning at the lack of flavor. “Hit me.”

“If he calls off plans with you all the time he’s not interested. If he doesn’t give you as much heads up as humanly possible before he has to cancel a plan or bail then he might actually hate you.”

“You’re exaggerating.” You scoff, shaking extra salt onto your fries.

Jordan reaches over, stealing one of your now delicious fries to dip it into her milkshake. “It’s a type of power play. Too many reasons to name why a guy might feel the need to pull something like that but we don’t wanna get too complicated. All you need to do is memorize the red flags and run when you see them.”

“Okay…. follow up question, what would you consider to be ‘all the time’?”

“If you just started seeing each other and he cancels two dates in a row without desperately trying to make it up to you he doesn’t give a shit.” Jordan steals and dips another of your fries.

“What about emergencies? Like… I dunno, a funeral? What if his Aunt died? So he cancels that one date. Then the next one he tries to plan his car breaks down or something, you know?”

“He should call an uber and get to the fucking location of the date come hell or high water. That’s what a guy who likes you is gonna do. Don’t over complicate, L/N.”

“Oh and you don’t think you’re over-complicating the process of eating my fries?” You smack at her hand as it reaches for your plate for the umpteenth time during this lunch. “You could have ordered fries. Why didn’t you order fries?”

“Didn’t want any until I saw yours.” She tries again but you see the movement coming and block her hand, again. You did not notice the second, slightly sneakier hand that does successfully carry out the theft.

“Did you just juke me over a fry?

“Yeah, and I won.”

You toss a fry at her and laugh when she manages to catch it with her mouth. Asshole.

You sit on the corner of Jordan’s desk, watching as he finishes up some last minute work that Brink asked him to do before heading out. You’d offered to meet back up later but he just shook his head and said it wouldn’t take long.

“What if he’s just a private person?” You ask, kicking your feet lightly.

Jordan looks up from his laptop and frowns at you, “Why are you trying to invent exceptions to the rules? The rules are there to help you. Can you say that for me, L/N? Can you say the rules are there to help me?”

“The rules are there to help me.” You repeat back, mocking their tone.

“Thank you.” Jordan smirks at you, “Like I said, if he’s hiding your relationship from the world then he’s not serious about you. He should be introducing you to people. You should be on his social media. People should not be shocked you exist when meeting you. All that bullshit.”

“And if they’re a private person?” You challenge.

Jordan pushes away his laptop, turning to face you. “Fuck me. The types of guys you’re gonna be around as a hero are all gonna be doing the same stuff as you. There’s gonna be a certain level of our life that’s always in the spotlight. Minimum of two posts a week if he’s constantly posting in general.”

“I don’t post very much.” You counter.

“You should be posting more. Especially as a top ten. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be number 6 right now. You need to be more active on socials.” Jordan gives you a look before going back to typing. Two weeks ago that look would have put you on the verge of tears. Now you roll your eyes.

“I’ll think about it.”

“It was an order as your TA, actually.”

“Oh god, an order? I’m shaking in my boots.” You tease, playfully kicking his chair.

“That just knocked your essay from a B- to a C, congratulations.” Jordan quips.

“You were gonna mark my essay a B-, you dick? You know damn well I don’t turn in B- work. Who do you think-”

The rest of the afternoon is lost to playful outrage. The papers get graded late. Yours comes back an A+. No one besides you has gotten a grade of + anything since Jordan became TA.

“Okay, so this is one with a grey area.” Jordan says.

“Oh no.”

“Shut up. If he never gets jealous that’s a red flag.”

“But-” You sit up from where you’re laid out on the blanket you threw on the ground to better soak in the last warm rays of September sun.

“I am not saying go out with some overly possessive fucking maniac.” Jordan cuts you off.

“Be specific, Jordan. You can’t give me rules with built in exceptions. I’ll fail. Is that what you want? You want me to fail, Jordan? That’s messed up-”

“Shut up-” Jordan laughs, shaking her head. “Listen to me, if a guy never gets jealous he just doesn’t care at all. The most namaste, enlightened dude on the planet will get jealous in the right situation. I’m not saying tolerate anything crazy. It’s just good if he like… responds, when you say you’re going to study alone with another dude at 9pm, in the guy’s dorm... while his roommate is gone.”

“Is studying alone with another dude, in his dorm while his roommate is gone, okay as long as it ends before 9pm?”

Jordan rips out grass from the ground and tries to sprinkle it onto your face. You put up a force-field and laugh when she sticks her tongue out.

“He’s gotta give you his full attention. When he’s with you, he’s with you. Everyone gets distracted. But if his head is always somewhere else, every time you see him, he just doesn’t like you.” Jordan swipes at your head, fast enough to be a challenge to dodge but not hard enough to hurt you had the hit connected.

You go in for a kick yourself and he practically twirls out of the way. You try twice more, managing to evade his own hits just barely.

Breathlessly, you gesture for a time out and Jordan sighs, “We gotta get you better at hand to hand.”

“That’s what my shields are for.”

“The way you use your shields is really good. You’ve gotten a lot more creative this year. It’s why you’ve been jumping ranks so fast. You’re powerful.”

The earnest tone he uses makes you lift up from the hunched over position of misery on your knees, “You think so?”

“Well…. yeah.” He clears his throat. “But you can’t get lazy. What if someone wears you out and you don’t have any energy left for them? No more shields. You need to be able to fight.”

“If I don’t have any energy left for my shields and my only option left is hand to hand combat, respectfully, it’s my time.”

Jordan rolls his eyes, “Break’s over. Back in position, stay on your toes more so it’s easier to move, okay?”

You’re about to get back into form when you hear calls of Jordan’s name from across the arena. You turn and see Luke and Cate coming over, wide grins on their faces. You give them a small wave and they both wave back, incredibly eager.

You’ve always been friendly with one another but the strength of enthusiasm is… strange. Enough to make you blink in surprise.

“Thought you said you were super booked up this week doing stuff for Brink? Absolutely no free time.” Cate asks, staring Jordan down.

“This isn’t free time. I can’t slack on hand to hand combat training. It’s important.” Jordan stares Cate down even harder.

“Why didn’t you ask me?” Luke asks casually.

“Jordan saw my form in a video I just posted and apparently it was ‘despicable’ and ‘the most insane way he’d ever seen anyone do that before’. He rushed over to show me what the ‘right way to do it is’. Control freak.” You fake a cough as you say the last part.

“You were gonna hurt your back!”

“Super healing.”

“Super herniated disc.” Jordan quips back and you scoff, shoving him.

He shoves you back with an eye roll, fighting back a smile.

“How ungentlemanly of you.” You gasp. A shift, and she shoves you again making you laugh, “and unladylike!”

“You shoved me first!”

“Children, please try and be civil we’re in public.” Luke cuts in and you almost jump at the sound of his voice.

It’s easy to get lost in your own world when you’re with Jordan. You turn to be politely facing your classmates and not just Jordan, wearing a sheepish smile.

“Stop teasing them. They’re cute.” Cate smiles.

“Anyways, you guys need something?” Jordan asks.

“We can’t just hang out? Are you trying to get rid of your best friends?” Luke asks.

“Yes.”

“Jordan!” You bump her with your elbow.

“Okay, okay. We’ll leave you alone. Wanna grab lunch with us after though?” Cate asks, looping her arm through Luke’s.

“You feeling up to lunch, L/N?” Jordan looks over at you.

With three unexpected pairs of eyes on you, you fluster. “If you go easy on me for the rest of training, yes.”

“Not a chance.” Jordan snorts. “We’ll be there though. Now scram. L/N needs a lot of help.”

“No, I fucking do not!” You protest.

The two of you don’t notice Luke and Cate walking away trading looks.

“When you don’t know really know anything about him, it’s not a good sign.” Jordan tilts the bowl of popcorn towards you.

“And what do you mean, specifically, by knowing anything about him?” You ask, taking some pieces and throwing them back.

“Has has ever shared his feelings? Talked about his personal life? If you don’t know anything besides the superficial stuff he doesn’t care about you.” Jordan states. “You also need to look out for him not knowing anything about you. Does he give you space to open up? Does he remember the shit you do tell him?”

“Got it, so just look out for the superficial surface level conversations if you never have any deeper moments.” You say.

“Exactly.” Jordan says before her eyes snap back to the screen suddenly. “Did they say they’re gonna try and make that house feel more ‘open concept’? What the fuck is their problem?”

“Huh?” You look back to Jordan’s TV, which is playing Property Brothers. “You got a problem against open concept?”

“I have a problem with every house being made to look the same, inside and out. It’s bad enough new houses don’t have unique floor plans. Now we’re taking houses that were unique and fucking them up till they’re boring! What ever happened to individuality? I bet they’ll paint the walls grey too. Fuck me.” She huffs, leaning back against the couch.

“Are you really into this show or just really into design patterns?” You ask, charmed at her passion for something completely random.

“A bit of both.” Jordan says. “I wanted to be an architect. Before I got my powers.”

“Shut up! No, you did not.”

“I did.” She laughs, “I used to draw up plans and torment my parents with them every hour of the day.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon talking about your hidden passions.

You even get the honor of seeing a few of the sketches Jordan made years ago. They were crinkled at the edges, pencil markings dull with age in some places. You smiled down at the folder Jordan keeps the drawings in. When you look up, finally, to compliment them you notice a strange look on Jordan’s face.

Thinking you’d made her self conscious with your long silence you wrapped an arm around her and told her she would have made a hell of an architect. And probably killed someone with the utter lack of load bearing beams in her structures.

You expected her to shove you off playfully but she only leaned into you and smiled, flipping to the next page of the folder.

When you get back to your own dorm room, moon high in the sky, you have to stifle a laugh. The latest post on Jordan’s Instagram is a picture of you standing with your hands on your hips in the middle of their room, looking baffled.

The caption: I handed her the remote and walked away for five minutes. We’ve been looking for almost an hour #jesus christ #banned from room 4ever.

You step out into the hallway and call Jordan up, demanding they take down their character assassination attempt because you two only looked for 26 minutes, actually.

They refuse.

You’re so incensed by the exaggeration that you wind up back outside Jordan’s dorm room not ten minutes later. When she opens the door, and sees you standing there, she bursts into laughter. She drags you inside, and when you ask her when the ban got lifted she just throws you on the bed. You spend the rest of the night arguing semantics.

You and Jordan were sitting in the ground floor of the school’s library where you were allowed to talk quietly. You were teaching them how to fold paper to make little stars while they were teaching you how to make the perfect paper airplane.

“Are you filled with barely suppressed rage? Why is it so damn wrinkled?” You laugh at their mangled star.

Jordan grabs another piece of paper with a huff, pushing her bob back behind her ears. “You are shit at giving instructions. This is impossible. Do the steps slower again.”

“I’m sorry, I’m actually not capable of slowing myself down times 3 like a Youtube video.” You tease.

“Fuck you.” Jordan kicks you under the table with her foot. “Again. Show me.”

“You start with this corner here, then you twist it over here, next you wanna-”

“Hey! Hey! What’s up people!” You and Jordan turn in perfect sync to hiss at the person to be quiet only to find that person to be Andre Anderson.

You turn back towards the table, Jordan moves an arm to curl around the back of your chair.

“Hey.” Jordan says flatly. You make some noise that you hope passes for a greeting.

“Sorry, too loud. So this is where the party is, huh? What’re you two doing?” Andre grabs a chair on the opposite side of the table and you frown, focusing intensely on the paper before you.

“Don’t you have a class right now?” Jordan asks sharply.

“Blowing it off.” Andre grins back.

Jordan scoffs. You only notice your shoulders are practically up to your ears when Jordan puts her hand there and rubs. You relax, letting out a quiet breath you were holding. Jordan gives you a squeeze.

“Awww, you making little stars? Cute. Wanna show me how, F/N?” Andre has the nerve to sound flirtatious.

After ditching you without a word and radio silence to back it up. To really make sure there’s insult to match the injury. You clench your jaw. Keep moving your hands. Try to zone out.

The hand on your shoulder gets bigger and so does the thigh that brushes against yours under the table. “Could you fuck off for a bit? We’re trying to relax after our exams this morning.”

“Ouch. Didn’t know you couldn’t relax with me around, man.” Andre bites back. “F/N, you want me to stay, don’t you?”

You get up from the table abruptly. The sudden sting in your eyes doesn’t even allow you you to collect your things. Your chest feels tight. You have to just get out of here. You hope in a school of future superheroes no one will steal your stuff. You think you hear calls of your name from behind you. Some yelling. Your ears are ringing too much. You break into a sprint.

You can’t even make it to your dorm. You have to settle for tucking yourself into the first patch of trees behind a building you can find. You try to fight back the tears. One breathe. Two. Three. Try to focus on the birds chirping somewhere above you. But the memories are all flooding in at once and you start to cry. Heaving, chest burning sobs.

“F/N. F/N. F/N, hey look at me.” You zone back into the world to Jordan pushing your hair away from your face and you sob.

“Fuck me, I’ll kill him. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d get so upset. You seemed like you didn’t care after that night… I- I’ll fucking knock his teeth in.” Jordan hisses. You’d thought you’d seen them angry before. But their face has never looked like this.

“What’s… are you having a panic attack?” Jordan asks, still petting your hair gently. You manage to nod. “Is touching you okay? Is it making it worse?” You push yourself into his hands and without another word he pulls you into his lap, tucking you against him.

You notice absently he’s wearing his favorite jacket and try to shift, so that you’re not getting tears and snot onto the fabric. He pushes your head back against his shoulder, shushing you gently. You let yourself relax, letting out the rest of the tears. Letting the anxiety leave your body. You start your grounding techniques as your breathing evens. You can see the sharp cut of Jordan’s jaw. Hear his heartbeat. The birds chirping. Feel his hands as they rub soothing circles into your skin. Smell the cologne he wears. You tuck yourself closer, even though no more tears are coming.

“Andre is a fucking loser.” Jordan says, quietly but vehemently, “You shouldn’t waste a second fucking thinking about him. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. It’s not you. It’s just who he is.”

“It’s not just Andre… It’s… it’s not even mostly Andre.” You say quietly. “I mean he’s a dick but… it just brings up memories.”

“Memories?” Jordan echoes softly, and you know you don’t have to tell him anything but you want to.

“When I was younger… I was even more of a wall flower than I am now. Shocker, I know.” You try to joke, Jordan only hums to let you know he’s listening, pulling you closer. “Even though I had powers I wasn’t popular or anything. I had trouble controlling them. Not enough to be dangerous… just enough to be… well, a loser, honestly. Because of my anxiety, and how loud my head gets my force-fields would just pop out whenever. I couldn’t stop it. If I was scared. If I got nervous. If I was feeling stupid, or ugly. All the time. People called me bubble girl.”

“I learned to just keep to myself but I was such an easy, fun target. Sneak up on the mouse and watch them jump and make a bubble! Fun!” You laugh bitterly. You think you feel Jordan kiss the top of your head, but you’re still out of it. “It made even getting out of bed to go to school hard. Administration wouldn’t take it serious as bullying because I was a supe: if I wanted it to stop I should defend myself.”

“My parents felt the same way. Wouldn’t let me transfer. But I didn’t want to fight back. I didn’t want to turn myself into something I’m not just to be left alone! I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I thought eventually everyone would get bored, mature a little. But it just got worse and worse every fucking year. Senior year was… bad, though. I was getting better at controlling my powers so what kids would do to make me react was worse. But I just ignored it. I started just… pulling into myself. Whenever anyone would pour paint on my favorite outfit. Or cut my hair. Or hit me, I’d make the bubble in my head instead, and go there. Eventually, towards the end I thought people finally got bored, they stopped fucking with me as much. I thought I’d be able to graduate in peace.”

“There was this one boy… he was popular. But he’d always been nice to me. He smiled at me in the hallways. Would help me up if people shoved me when he was around. He even gave me his sweater once, when someone cut up my shirt during gym. His friends were dicks but I thought he was different, I thought he was nice.”

“He suddenly started being even more nice to me. It felt… when he asked me to prom I just wanted to be normal for one second. I should have known. I probably did know. I just wanted to pretend, for five seconds, I wanted to pretend.” You trail off, lost in the memory.

“What happened?” Jordan asks, voice sounding hoarse. You try to pull back to see what’s wrong but he keeps you still. You realize he started rocking the both of you as you spoke. You didn’t realize how soothing it was.

“It was a joke, obviously. We went to go shopping together, so we’d match, he told me. When we got to the shop he insisted we go to all his friends were waiting for us. Recording, of course. They all laughed at me. I still remember what one girl said, ‘you’re more crazy than we thought if you honestly ever believed someone like him would go out with a loser like you’.”

“F/N, those people were fucking assholes. They… god what the fuck is wrong with people. That’s not true.” Jordan makes you look at him, suddenly. You’re shocked that his eyes are red. “You’re not a fucking loser.”

“It’s okay, Jordan. I know they were just assholes. I always knew. It just hurts still. I’ve… I’ve avoided dating ever since, obviously. My first kiss wasn’t even romantic. It was just with a good friend that I knew wouldn’t make fun of me. So I could get it out of the way.”

“I’m sorry.” Jordan looks helpless, like he wants to do something but doesn’t know what.

“You didn’t do anything, Jordan. No need to say sorry.”

“And then Andre went and fucking… fucking motherfucker I’ll kill him!” Jordan snaps, goes to stand up and then remembers he’s holding you halfway. He sits back down, grip a little tighter, but still gentle.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t even a joke, what Andre did. He’s just… inconsiderate. And I happen to have a nasty experience that makes me blow everything out of proportion. I’ll have to get used to that kind of thing if I want to actually start dating.”

Suddenly both of Jordan’s hands are on your face, holding you still so you have to look at him. “You’re not blowing anything out of proportion. And… and you don’t have to get used to shit, F/N. You’re fucking incredible. You don’t need to tolerate anything, from fucking anyone. You’re a fucking… you’re a fucking dream girl! You’re smart, and funny, and sweet, and strong, and beautiful. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. You don’t have to settle for fucking anything. Okay?”

You stare up at him, shocked, he gives your head a gentle shake, “Okay?” You nod slowly.

He pulls you into another hug, the tightest one you’ve ever gotten. You don’t pull away until the sun dips so low you’re both draped in gold.

“Fucking rank number fucking 5!” Jordan screams, arm wrapped around you tightly. A chorus of cheers from the rest of the group and people nearby.

You cover your face, laughing helplessly. Jordan didn’t surprise you with this party, they knew that would only make you anxious, walking into a room full of people you weren’t expecting to see with (even if asked not to) cameras pointed at you.

Jordan had texted you: I am throwing you a surprise party on Friday night to celebrate your new ranking. Please practice your surprised face.

You had practiced. You’d done a very convincing gasp when you walked in.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Jordan says, for the umpteenth time, looking at you. You feel your cheeks go hot.

“Oh shut up. I’ll get a big head soon.”

“You deserve it more than anyone. You’re fucking awesome.” Jordan had started heaping more praise onto you than you knew what to do with, most days.

She claimed it was practically training. That you needed to get used to people complimenting you, with the level of fame you’re going to reach. That alone had made your stomach erupt into butterflies. Jordan believed in you. Really believed in you.

“You’re the one who’s awesome… you’re a good mentor, Jordan.” You reach up to hold the hand that’s been wrapped around your shoulder all evening.

“Are you saying that following my advice works?” Jordan pretends to gasp. You playfully dig your nails into her side and she jumps before grabbing the offending hand and holding onto it. She doesn’t let go.

Her advice had worked. You posted on your social media more, at her insistence. You started to become a beast at hand to hand, thanks to Jordan’s brutal training regimen. You were socializing more, because as long as Jordan was there you felt safe. But you were even feeling confident enough to do things on your own that high school you would be shocked didn’t instantly send you to the grave.

You’d done an interview, for God’s sake! All on your own. Although your eyes kept darting to Jordan right off camera, who smiled reassuringly the whole time.

“I will not. Because then you’ll get a big head.” You tease, giving both her hands a squeeze.

“Let’s get a drink.” Jordan says, tugging you towards the kitchen.

It’s quieter in the kitchen. The drink table in the living room is still overflowing so no one’s had to start looking for leftovers yet.

“How you feeling?” Jordan asks, helping you sit on the counter before going to the fridge. After a second he pulls out your favorite. He hid them in the far back, you can tell by how far he had to lean.

“Good.” You smile as he pops your drink open before handing it to you. He leans against one of your knees.

“Party isn’t too much, right?” He asks, for the third time tonight.

Laughing you push a strand of unruly hair back from his face. He freezes at the touch, before a smile creeps onto his lips.

“Party is perfect, Jordie. Thank you. For everything. For being so…”

“Don’t thank me for treating you the way you should always be treated.”

“You treat me like a princess! What if I get spoiled? You’ll have to deal with a monster.” You tease. “You won’t even be able to be mad at me, because you’ll be the reason.”

“You’ll terrorize the world.”

“Cause complete chaos.”

“Devastation, even.” As Jordan speaks you realize you’d gotten closer. A lot closer. Your chest seizes up with anxiety as you wonder how long you’d been leaning in like this. You almost pull back, ready to apologize. But you’re frozen stiff now and realize the two of you are still getting closer. With a jolt you realize you both leaned in.

Jordan has a hand on your thigh, you reach down, nervous, to hold his hand as reflex. It’s an every day comfort, lately. You give his hand a squeeze. He squeezes back. You don’t pull away as Jordan keeps leaning in.

“Jordan! Come stop Luke from doing a keg stand, please!” Cate’s voice, typically pleasant sounds incredibly annoying at the moment.

“Gimme a sec!” Jordan calls back, still looking you in the eye. You squeeze his hand tighter. He looks nervous. They’ve looked so nervous all night. Nervous you were having a good time. Nervous you were happy. Nervous… nervous to kiss you? Is he about to fucking kiss you?

“He has an interview tomorrow! Hustle please!” Cate calls back in a sing song tone.

“Fuck me!” Jordan throws his head back, shifting, frustrated. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

You nod, a little breathless from anxiety and excitement, and dread, and the full spectrum of human emotion. “Okay.”

Jordan stomps out of the kitchen, probably going to rip Luke a new asshole from the sound of her boots on the floor. She sounds like her own stampede. You giggle, pressing your hands, still warm from holding Jordan’s into your face. You may be bad at signals but…

You sit under the hideous fluorescent kitchen lighting feeling like something inside you is glowing. You kick your feet, nervous, waiting for Jordan to get back. Wondering what they’ll do. What they’ll say. If you’re delusional. You have to be delusional. You have to be.

“Guard dog taking a walk?” In the doorway stands Andre, looking a little rougher than usual. His right eye is dark, like a black eye that’s started healing. There’s a small bandage over his nose.

“What happened to you?” You gasp.

“Your guard dog.” Andre says, reaching into the fridge to pull out a bottle of spicy vodka. “Jordan’s number #2 for a reason. Congrats on making #5 by the way.”

“Thanks.” You say. “When did Jordan do that?”

“A week ago. Would have probably gotten it earlier but apparently Cate talked them into waiting to see me until they were less pissed off. For which I’m eternally grateful.” He says, taking a sip straight from the bottle without chaser.

You don’t really know what to say so you sit in silence. Legs still kicking, more from anxiety now, less from giddiness.

“He gave me a busted lip too, but that healed pretty quickly. I also think he might have kicked a rib loose, been a little sore on the left side.” Andre says, he doesn’t seem to be angry but you don’t know why else he’d talk to you.

“I didn’t ask Jordan to do that. If you’re wondering.” You say, slowly.

“No! No! You’re way too sweet for that. This was just my shitty way of getting around to an apology. I’m sorry. I should’ve said sorry before Jordan kicked my ass but I promise Jordan kicking my ass isn’t why I’m saying sorry. The original plan was to ask you out again, make it up to you with dinner. Jordan just kicked my ass first.”

“I hope to god you’re not working your way around to asking me on a pity date.” You narrow your eyes at him.

“So Jordan could put me in a full body cast?” Andre laughs loudly, shocking you. “No offense, you’re really cute, but nothing’s worth that fucking beat down.”

“Well, I guess I accept your-”

“You don’t have to forgive me. Jordan was pretty clear that I tore up some old wounds. I didn’t mean to, but I’m sorry. I can just be… a dick, sometimes. Often. All the time.” Andre jokes.

“What did Jordan say exactly?” You ask nervously.

“Nothing specific! I could barely pick out anything at all, really. The sound of her fist breaking my nose was pretty loud.”

You laugh then try to cover it up by taking a sip. Andre grins and you relax, knowing it was his way of breaking the tension.

“Can I ask you something?” Andre asks suddenly.

“You can ask, doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” You shrug.

“Fair enough.” Andre says, toying with the bottle. “Do you like Jordan?”

“What?”

“Because Jordan sure likes you.” Andre states.

“No, they don't.” It’s a reflex to deny the possibility of someone having feelings for you but the words feel wrong once you say them. Weren’t you just about to kiss? Wasn’t his hand just burning into your thigh like a brand? “Do they?”

“Jordan would never do a fraction of the shit they’ve been doing for you if they didn’t care about you.” Andre takes another sip, then moves to saunter from the kitchen. He stops, a glance over the shoulder. “However you feel, tell Jordan. And soon. They’re looking a little desperate.”

Then it’s just you and the sound of the party, and the cool marble you’re sitting on. And a lot to think about.

“Your incessant leg jiggling is distracting me from how and why they intend to turn this beautiful victorian home into another soulless open concept millennial nightmare.” Jordan says, glancing from the TV to your leg which, yes, has been jiggling for awhile.

“I’ve got a question.”

“Obviously.”

“How can you tell if a girl isn’t into you?”

Jordan turns to face you, eyebrows furrowed, “what?”

You feel heat flood your cheeks, but keep your eyes firmly glued to the screen. “Are the rules the same? Or different?”

“You like girls?” Jordan blurts out.

“What?” The question is enough to make you look at her. And now you're trapped by societal standards of politeness to maintain the most anxiety inducing eye contact you've ever shared.

“You've never talked about… you've never said anything about liking girls.”

“You only offered up the help for the one gender. Didn't wanna get greedy.” You force a laugh.

“How long have you…. have you always liked girls?” Jordan asks and you hope to God you're not hallucinating that quick glance at your lips.

“You follow me on Instagram!”

“What's that have to do with anything?”

“I literally have the pride flag in my bio?”

“I thought you were-”

“-Jordan Li, if you're about to tell me you thought I was an ally I'll beat you to death, and then jump off a cliff.”

Jordan laughs, ducking her head, hair falling into her face slightly. You dig your fingers into your thigh to stop yourself from reaching out and tucking it behind her ear.

“Is there a reason why you're asking… about how to tell when a girl isn't into you, all of a sudden?” Jordan looks up at you and the world narrows down to her brown eyes, and her nose, and her mouth. And the look in her eyes you hope you're not reading wrong.

You blink in confusion when amusement crosses over her face and for one awful second you think Jordan is laughing at you and you could throw up. But you realize you're suddenly looking at her from behind a force-field of light purple and feel queasy out of a different sense of embarrassment.

You can hear a smile in Jordan’s voice, but you refuse to unbury your face from your hands, “Never seen you not be able to control your powers before.”

“Please kill me.”

“Can't. Your forcefield is still up, princess.” She teases, tapping at the bubble.

With a groan of humiliation you drop your field and peek up at her through your fingers.

“First the forcefield, now the hands. Still haven't answered my question though.” You almost snip at her that she should take a wild guess at your answer but there's something about Jordan’s expression. It's teetering between playful, guarded, and… something else. And you have to bank on whatever that something else is.

You take a deep breath in and move in closer, “You're not so awful a teacher that the lessons for a guy didn't stick, but considering you're a girl too who knows what incredibly important lesson you didn't know you had to teach me. The lesson… the girl lesson, that would have stopped me from misinterpreting what's been happening here. If I’m misinterpreting. All I know is… all I can really be sure of, is how I feel. And I, well-” You bite your lip, taking a shaky breath, and Jordan moves in closer, “I'm about halfway to being in love with you.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before her lips are on yours. Her hand curls at the base of your neck, pulling you in closer. A brush of her tongue against your bottom lip before you let her in with a breathless sigh. She moans against your lips, other hand moving to your waist to tug you into her lap.

You lose your balance a little, fall into her in a way that is not at all seductive. You laugh, embarrassed and she chases the sound, using both hands to put you in her lap, holds you there firm and secure.

“You-” She kisses you, interrupting your sentence. “Haven’t-” Another kiss. “Told me-” She holds you tight this time, tilting her head to the side, sweeping her tongue against yours and gasping at your taste. You pull back with shaky hands, keeping her at a distance with a grip on her shoulders.

“Could we use our big girl words?” You ask, breathless and a little dizzy.

“I’ve fucking only been in love with you for two years, thanks for fucking noticing.” She huffs, exasperated and smiling.

“How on Earth was I supposed to interpret your seething stare of hate for being in love with me?” You’re already melting against her as she pulls you back in with the guiding grip on your hair.

“Shoulda looked harder, baby.” She coos, and doesn’t let you up again anytime soon.

A/N: my magnum opus of pining! if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

#bee talks #he's just not that into you #jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #gen v #black!reader #this fic is a fucking monster in word count but that's just what jordan li deserves

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ldysmfrst · 1 year ago

Text

American Mate (9) - Shadows of the Past (M)

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 9 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 10,985

Work count for Story: 56,267

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs and the other loves everyone. I currently am not working because of a broken foot. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work.

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does have pack dynamics, comfort, Alpha Space, Luna vibes, close proximity, multiple scenting, M/M mature scenes, good boy, and feisty Beta vibes.

SIDE NOTE: This is my first time writing second-base smut into a story. 💜💜💜

This chapter has a mature scene between BTS members. If you want to avoid this scene, at the start and end of the spicy part of the scene, the following banner will be displayed:

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

“Genevie Rose Elisey,” You growl out her name, step forward, and pull out of Yoongi’s tail’s hold on you. All eyes snap to you—well, all eyes except the little omega, who drops her eyes and scrunches her nose at the twist of your scent. You stalk forward and grip the back of her neck as if she were a kitten, scruffing her. Your scent has gone from sweet peas to something akin to lemons, almost acidic. The change in scent alerts your pack that you are not playing around.

However, the scent and display of Dominance causes a mix of reactions from the Alphas. Everyone here would be remiss in not recognizing who is in charge, which does something to them. Namjoon and the rest have seen you upset, but this… this is something else.

While the Prime Alpha is concerned about the Omega, not knowing what she had done to result in this type of reaction from you, he cannot pull his eyes away from how you hold yourself. It’s like you are taller and more assertive.

Yoongi’s Alpha slams to the forefront when he sees you scruff the Omega. The feline mothering behaviors pull deeply at the primal aspect of the jaguar hybrid. His mind runs with thoughts of you scruffing cubs, but not just any cubs, his cubs. Shaking his head, Yoongi does his best to clear his mind and stay in the present; you are not his—yet.

Jimin is just lost. He has spent the least amount of time with you out of the Bangtan pack. He has mostly been observing you and your interactions with his already-bonded mates. This Dominant, in-charge side of you is new and instinctively intriguing.

“Luna, I only meant to ensure they understood,” Evie says softly, trying not to offend you further. When the hybrid pack title is used, the three Alphas exchange glances of shock before settling their sights on you.

“It is not your place to remind others of something that happened when you were present during the event. In private, between our pack members, you can defend, rant, rave, and threaten all you want to,” you look to Derek.

“Both of you have always been able to protect the pack in emergencies and express yourselves freely in the packhouse. However, I feel that you both may have lost where the line of respect is when it comes to individuals outside of the pack who hold importance,” you scold. “You both realize these three Alphas hold the key to my survival?”

“Luna, we do. Honest, we meant only to support our pack and defend you, our Luna, in your territory,” Derek says, bearing more of his neck in submission as the acidic smell consumes your sweetness.

Gesturing to the Alphas in the room, “If any of these three or their mates are offended…”

“One word,” your voice drops deep and gravelly. “One word is all it takes from either of you, from me, and your Luna would be without a job, without a home. Then where would we be?”

Once your words are spoken, it takes a breath for both family pack members to shrink farther down in submission. Neither one had considered that you could be fired for something they did or didn’t do.

That is why you are the pack’s Luna. Typically, the Beta and Omega must deal with customers or clients who are Alphas, but they only have to deal with them for short amounts of time. Your contract with the Bangtan Pack was not going to be short. Realizing that they must treat the other pack as a pack, not a customer, dawns on them.

More than ever, Derek wishes he understood why the Bangtan Pack took this path with you rather than the typical courting method. Maybe one day, he can find out.

“You will not threaten Alpha guests or ANY guest in our packhouse. I know you are protective of me, both of you are, but I am an adult and the Luna of this pack,” you move closer to the munchkin hybrid.

“Thank you for your kind yet oversharing words, Omega. But you must apologize to them for planning to neuter them,” you demand.

“Luna Y/n,” Jimin calls your attention quickly. The sound of him using your family pack title pulls at something profound and instinctual within you.

“I think Your Omega is right, Luna,” says Jimin softly. “I think she is right about a few things.”

He pauses to collect his thoughts, which are running everywhere now that he has watched your eyes darken as you correct the misstep of your pack member and dilate at the use of the Luna title. His Alpha is coming forward for the first time since he has been in your presence. Jimin’s Alpha is watching you closely and is keenly interested.

“Respectfully, Luna, we are starting a mile behind because we never saw you coming. Not everyone in Bangtan Pack has connected to our Miss Y/n in the same way, which is no one's fault. It means that some of us, mainly me, have more than a mile to get things right,” comments Jimin.

“Jimin, you really...” You are cut off when Jimin gently takes your free hand and pulls you towards him, careful of the brace. Dropping the scruff on the munchkin hybrid, she backs away and curls into the Beta.

“Let me finish, Luna, please,” Jimin begs, to which you nod, your breath caught in your throat. “This whole situation, mates– playmates, came oddly, and we really should do things right by you.”

Taking your other hand, he says, “I want to do things right by you. I want to do the right things with you. I know you can’t smell our scents, but we meant what we said last night.”

“We all want to do things right by you, Princess,” says Yoongi supportively.

“Miss Y/n, I came here for a reason,” Jimin says as his thumbs rub gently over your knuckles.

“I wanted to meet your family pack and reassure them that we are going to treat you right, take care of you like one of our own, spoil you silly, and support you endlessly,” he says shyly.

Quickly glancing at Namjoon, Jimin focuses back on you, “Each mate wants to spend a day with you—just you. We will take the time to be with you. So that we can learn who you are and show you who we really are.”

Your eyes are glassy, and your scent is losing some of the acid as he continues, “Will you grant us the honor to take you out? Allow us the pleasure of getting to know each other on a personal level, Luna?”

Looking between the three Alphas before you and then at your pack family, you found hopeful eyes and gentle smiles. Settling your eyes back on the red panda hybrid, you answer, “Yes, I would like that.”

Namjoon and Evie stood in the kitchen. Evie cleaned up from baking the cookies, and Namjoon avoided everything as much as he could. This seemed to amuse Evie to no end. No animosity could be seen or smelt between the two.

Jimin took the time to speak with Derek while sitting on my bed. You were pretty sure that they were practically interviewing each other. That or Jimin was trying to learn more about you through your Beta. Derek looked like he was having a serious conversation and was concerned about what he was saying.

You, however, had gone out onto the small balcony to get some fresh air. Emotions running amok:

The shock of the unexpected guests. The embarrassment of Evie’s declarations. The fear of retaliation from the Alphas for those same words. The flutters of your heart at the reorganization of your status by Jimin. The ease of the kind words of the Alphas.

“Is there a reason why the pack Luna has come outside?” asks a voice as someone joins you outside.

“Yoongi,” you breathe out, trying to suppress a shudder at the use of your pack titles again. “I am sorting myself. So much has happened this week. I am not sure it has sunk in yet.”

Walking up behind you, he grips the railing on each side of you, effectively caging you in. Resting his chin on your shoulder, breathing in your scent as it has settled back into sweet pea and vanilla.

“Is there anything that can help?” he asks quietly.

“You three are not offended by Evie's words, right? Or by how I acted, even though I am not a hybrid?” You say, still looking over the street below.

A gentle scoff is heard before he answers, “Your feisty Omega thinks highly of her Luna; your Beta does as well. I am not sure you remember everything from the breakroom, but your Beta expressed similar concerns to us back then. Your pack is concerned for you, as any pack would be of their capable Luna.”

You chuckle softly, “Yes, that they are. They always have been. I feel like I am letting them down with my issues. Like I am not strong enough for the position they have given me.”

“They wouldn’t be able to follow you as their Luna if they didn’t trust you to lead them. Now, as far as your actions.” Yoongi’s voice deepens.

His nose runs along the shell of your ear, leaving hot puffs as he breathes, “Your actions were a sight to see, Luna.”

Stepping closer to you, his hands resting on your hips and making your back flush with his front. His heat pours into you as you feel yourself instinctively relax slowly into him.

“So, seeing a human do that wasn't offensive?” you ask, just to be sure.

“Offensive is not the word I would use for it,” Yoongi says. His tone sounds amused as he raises his hand, trailing it along your body, lightly covering your throat to grip your chin.

Turning your face to his, he lets out a purr that vibrates your whole body. His nose runs along yours. “Intriguing, captivating, and alluring would be better words to describe how your actions made us feel.”

He scents your cheek with his as he whispers in your ear, “Did you think scruffing the young Omega feline would do nothing for my Alpha, Princess?”

Your mind runs scenarios through your head of what you would want him to do to you in response to your actions, such as Yoongi’s lips on your neck or his teeth leaving marks on your skin. Your breath becomes difficult as your body lightly shudders at his words. You try fighting your reaction the best you can, nails digging into your palm.

You want to lean into his touch more than you already have, but your mind screams that you can’t—not with the knowledge that he has mates, and some of those mates are just on the other side of the sliding glass door.

“I didn’t… I wasn’t…” Finding your words is complicated when his scent of rain washes over you. In your mind, you keep chanting that the closeness means nothing; it’s a hybrid thing.

No, this must be an Alpha hybrid thing.

Alpha Hybrid thing.

“I know, Princess. You were being a proper Luna. Too bad Jungkookie isn’t here. I would like to see him hold back like the rest of us are,” he says, stepping back. His eyes are drawn to the glass door and his mates on the other side.

“Hold back?” You question, turning around and following his gaze into your flat. Your eyes connect with those of Jimin’s.

“I think he would like a word in private with you, Princess,” Yoongi says as he goes inside without looking back. He harshly whispers something to Jimin, who nods with his eyes never leaving yours.

“Sorry to disturb your time with Yoongi-hyung, Luna. May I join you?” He asks while remaining inside the flat.

“Of course, Jimin. You weren’t… ah, you weren’t disturbing anything,” you smile softly, willing for the heat of whatever that was with Yoongi to go away with the breeze.

“Thank you, Luna.” You giggle at his use of your title, which causes Jimin to look confused. You wave your good hand in front of you as you smile brightly.

“You guys don’t need to call me Luna. They only use it when they are in trouble,” you explain, hoping to get him and the others to stop using it.

“Oh. Umm… I didn’t want to disrespect you in your packhouse. With your powerful display of strength and the level of respect and honor you require of your pack, I would only want to support that,” Jimin states as a matter of fact and not question.

“Thank you, Jimin.” Looking at him seriously, I say, “I hope none of you were offended. I know Yoongi said that none of you are but still.”

“No need to worry. None of us were offended,” confirms the red panda hybrid. Jimin walks over to the railing and looks at the sky. “Do you want to know what Yoongi-hyung said to me?”

Moving to stand beside him respectfully, keeping your distance, you say, “Only if you feel comfortable telling me.” Your response pulls a soft smile from him.

“He told me; he demanded me to find a way to connect with you,” he says, taking a deep breath, allowing your vanilla mate and sweet pea scent to give him the strength to continue. His sweet orange scent started to mix with Yoongi’s rain.

“What did Manager Sejin tell you about our last Playmate? Did he say anything about how she left or what she said?” he asks, glancing over quickly.

Standing up straighter, the question catches you off guard, “He didn’t go into great detail. He did say that she was a permanent Playmate but found love in a human and broke her contract; however, she said some not-so-nice things.”

Smirking non-playfully, Jimin says, “That’s how the PR department told us to say it. We can say enough to answer questions but not enough to tell what really happened.”

After a few moments pass, Jimin turns to face you directly. You follow his lead, giving Jimin your full attention. Your soul is willing Jimin to find his calm and strength to continue.

“Jimin, I would rather hear it directly from you or your mates if any of you wanted to share, but I am also satisfied with only knowing what I do,” you reassure him that silence on the topic is an option.

“Hobi and Yoongi-hyung never got along with any of the playmates. The rest of the pack could always get along with practically anyone. We should have known that something wasn’t right when Alpha Kook didn’t like her from the beginning. Even then, she was with us for about three years,” he begins.

“I think she was around for so long because of me. I grew attached to her deeper than anyone else did. I even took her home when we had some time off. My former owner and family pack were shocked that I brought home someone other than a mate with me,” Jimin says with disdain.

Looking around, Jimin’s eyes hold an element of guilt as he says, “We never did anything. I never cheated on Bangtan, but I still feel like a part of me fell for her in a way.”

“Not every mate is a soulmate like you and Bangtan are, Jimin,” you quietly add.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “True. Hybrids do have packs with non-soulmate-bonded mates. Typically, these are caused by a strong connection with them, but again, it is rare, nearly unheard of, for that deep connection to be with a human.”

“Oh, I see. Evie and I are practically sisters, which I feel is a version of a soulmate. Then Derek came along, and I felt like I found a piece of me that I never knew was missing. Now, he is a member of the pack,” you comment, trying to find a way to explain what you mean.

“I thought she might be something like that with you,” you say, looking inside and watching your pack laughing with the other two Alphas.

“Oh no. The pack you have gathered, Luna, is one of a kind. I am in awe of the connection they have with you. You are different with them,” Jimin says with genuine awe.

“Different? Oh no. This is me.” You giggle, then add, “You have seen professional and pained versions of me. Honestly, I tend to react on instincts or gut feelings. I have no filter. I have a passion for my friends and family.”

Biting your bottom lip, you continue, “Genevie was right about what she said. I tend to put those things or people important to me before myself. I have always struggled with my mental health, but I am a total goof and geeky nerd. You will see; you all will.”

“I struggled with some depression back in 2018,” Jimin admits, bringing his attention back to you. “I was still struggling with it until, gosh… 2020.”

“Seul-ki, the Playmate, was contracted on January 17, 2019.” Sighing, Jimin continues, “Looking back, I think she knew the pack was not accepting her. She clung to me for security through my insecurities.”

Your heart breaks at his story. Stepping closer, you rest your hand on his arm, trying to offer any modicum of support, saying, “They say hindsight is 20/20, but that doesn’t mean what she did was right or that you didn’t mean something to her.”

Looking at your hand on his arm, a soft smile graces his face. After taking a few moments to be in the moment with you and accept your support, he places his hand on top of yours.

“That wasn’t the worst part,” Clearing his throat, wetting his now dry lips, he huffs before continuing. “I am unsure, but BigHit believes she might have broken her contract and shared private information. Seul-ki fell in love with a reporter from Dispatch. We think they met while he was tailing us like they always do.”

Pausing momentarily, Jimin swallows and adds, “To top it off, when she left, she said some things that tore at our souls. We, ah… we made her skin crawl when our animals would come out. It was disgusting to see such handsome men turn into such filthy animals.”

You quickly pull Jimin into a hug, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your face buried in his neck. You are stunned by how hateful Seul-ki was to them.

Warm tears fall down your face and wet his neck, pulling a soft whine from him as he returns the hug. His arms wrap around your waist. You have always been emotional to others getting bullied because of your past.

“Sorry, Jimin. I am so sorry. Humans are mean and stupid. She shouldn’t have said that. How can anyone say that? Something so barbaric,” you mumble into his neck.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Jimin says while rubbing soothing circles on your back.

Leaning back, you wipe your face of the wet streaks, “You are so strong to come to PMS and look for another Playmate. Then you go and get stuck with me.”

“I know we take a risk when bringing in a playmate. I was finally trying to get past what happened,” he pauses, searching your eyes. “I wasn’t ready to find you, and I am sorry that I kept away from you, but my Alpha got scared of my mates' reaction to you.”

“Please don’t worry about me.,” you plead with tear-filled, caring eyes. “You can show me as much or as little of you without any negative consequences from me. You don’t have to get any closer to me than you want to.”

It's then that you realize you are engulfing the poor red panda. Lowering your arms, you say, “I’m sorry,” and take a step back, only to be stopped by Jimin’s arms holding you tighter. “Jimin?”

“Just give us a second, please,” Jimin’s voice comes out as a rough whisper.

Relinquishing your attempt at distancing yourself, you rest your arms around his shoulders again and watch him map out every inch of your face.

Being similar in height, you are eye to eye, allowing you to see his eyes' chestnut brown start to bleed through the whites and deepen into a darker reddish color.

Your breath catches in your throat, “Alpha Chim.”

A playful smile blooms on his face with a soft grunt, “Luna.”

The sound of your tiles coming from Alpha Chim feels like a wave of electricity falling over you, “Welcome to my packhouse, Alpha Chim.”.

“Smell of Yoon,” says Alpha Chim with a smirk.

“Yes, Alpha Yoon was with me before you came out. He scented me before going inside with your Prime Alpha and the rest of my pack. Is that okay, Alpha?”

“Mate scent, okay,” he says, raising his hand and almost cupping your face. “May I?”

“Yes, Alpha Chim,” you reply, tilting your head to expose your neck and closing your eyes. You have never been so thankful for wearing the sweetheart peasant shirt.

Alpha Chim takes his time tracing your jawline and the outline of your ear. Then, as his fingers go down your neck to find your pulse point, he takes hold. He has a firm but comforting grip and massages your neck and shoulder.

Now you can smell it, oranges. With Yoongi’s lingering scent, this is how you would envision the smell of an orchard full of ripe oranges after a spring shower.

After a moment, his hand drops, but before you can straighten, you feel him move again. This time, he brings his nose to scent your skin where his hand was—finding the blend of Yoongi, your, and his scent.

His warm breaths on your skin snap your eyes open, only to find you now have an audience. Pushing the Alpha away from you, he slowly releases you as he notices your sights are behind him.

“Princess. Jimin-ah. It's about time we head back to Bangtan’s packhouse,” Yoongi says with a knowing smile. Namjoon is standing behind him, questioning eyes trained on Jimin.

You nod and look at the Alpha holding you, and you are met with chestnut eyes, “Jimin?”

“Got it, Hyung.” He says, dropping his hold on you altogether. His posture has gone slightly stiff, but you don’t know if it's because his scenting was interrupted or something else.

Evie had packed up the remaining cookies to be taken back to the rest of Bangtan.

Derek and Jimin took your packed belongings to the waiting vans.

Namjoon and Yoongi, clad in bucket hats and masks, went with you to talk with the manager about your absence. They were unwilling to let you do it alone, something about potential confrontation and protection.

The building manager was a gentle older man who always greeted everyone with a smile and wanted to share some treats when he had visitors. Today, it was butterscotch chews, one of your favorites.

After explaining the change in your job description and the requirement to be temporarily housed elsewhere, the manager said he would watch your flat. He also suggested that you put a temporary disruption of water, power, and gas utilities.

After additional planning, Evie stayed behind to load your plants into her car to care for at her house. Jimin and Yoongi went in one van to head back to the Airbnb.

Namjoon, Derek, and you went in the other direction to take Derek home since he carpooled with Evie. You weren’t entirely sure why he couldn’t just carpool back, but maybe the plants taking up too much space in Evie’s car had something to do with it.

“Prime Alpha, how do you think your pack will handle the dating Y/n?” Derek asks bluntly.

Apparently, the plants had nothing to do with his persistent need to hitch a ride with you and the Prime Alpha. Internally, you groan at your pack's bluntness and wonder why they have taken an informal approach to the Bangtan pack. It's like they are testing, but you have no idea whether they are testing you or Bangtan.

“Derek!” you say, shocked. “They are not dates. They are outings to get to know each other. You know very well that they are a mate-bonded pack. You’re writing our contract!”

“Yes, I am well aware of your contract. I am also aware they left out their standard rut clause, and both sides still require a full physical with inclusive testing.” He responds, rolling his eyes, “but that doesn’t explain how they will react to their non-dating dates with you.”

“Mr. Gulley, I understand your concern for your Luna,” Namjoon interjects. “Spending time individually with our previous playmates was normal because that is what any playmate is for. We also go out in pairs or small groups for outings.”

Thinking momentarily, he continues, “The pack discussed it throughout today, and everyone is on the same page. We understand that some of us, such as Yoongi-hyung, have connected with your Luna on an instinctual level.”

“Others have expressed wanting that same level of connection with her,” he says, his eyes focused on you. “Jungkook, Seokjin-hyung, and now Jimin-ah have already started trying to connect. So far, no one has shown any signs of territorial dominance over your Luna.”

“Territorial dominance?” you ask. Internally, you remind yourself not to melt at the continued use of your Luna title.

Derik answers, “Evie gave us a wonderful display today of how Omegas and Betas are protective of the pack or packhouse. However, Luna, imprinting or becoming territorial towards a single pack member, is common with Alphas. This can cause the remaining pack members to need permission to interact with the chosen member.”

“But I am not in their pack.” Looking at Namjoon, “I am not a member of your pack, Prime Alpha. Right?”

“Technically, you are not at this point. We cannot officially bring you into the pack, even as a temporary member, until the contract is finalized after your medical appointments,” Namjoon says, attempting to withhold his disdain for having you continue to think everything is temporary.

“Temporary pack member. You want me to be a temporary pack member. Are such things as temporary members? Can I be in two packs like that? What would I be in Bangtan Pack? I can’t be Luna to a pack of Alphas! Derek, what will happen to our pack?” you ask, starting to panic slightly because this is not what you expected.

“The family pack with Evie and I will remain with you as our Luna. Nothing will ever change that. We will always have a place for you. While you are busy with your other pack, the leader tends to fall to the next in line: me,” answers Derek.

“Are you okay with that? Evie and you fight like cats and dogs… well, cats and foxes. You are also an amazing Beta and always take good care of her. You took care of both of us when we needed it. You also have Mathew, who can help if needed, I suppose,” you ramble as your mind starts to try and solve fires that don’t even have fuel.

“Not to worry. I will be fine, Luna. Evie and I talked about it briefly when you were on the balcony. We will have dinner tomorrow with Mathew to settle a few things,” answers Derek with a smile.

“Okay, you can always call me, though. I am still here,” you reassure him. “When are my appointments and the final meeting to sign the contract?”

“Ah, yes,” Derek says, pulling out his phone. “Your medical appointment is tomorrow morning at 9:30 at the Bangtan Packhouse, and the contract signing is two days later at PMS, but the time hasn’t been confirmed yet.”

“Once the contract is completed with the Bangtan pack, you will gain access to the pack’s group and individual schedules. As to where you will fit within the pack dynamic, that is something you will have to feel out as the pack gets to know you and you to know them,” says Derek, ending this comment with a stern look at Namjoon.

“Oh, good… Y/l/n pack is settled, and time will tell with Bangtan pack,” you sarcastically summarize because you only solved half of your concerns. Leaning back, you look outside at the world speeding by. Your mind wonders how much this would work out over the next few weeks.

Shaking his head, he says, “No, but I couldn’t… no, I didn’t want to stop.”

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asks with concern.

“I came with Namjoon-hyung to learn more about her,” explains Jimin. “I thought that being in her packhouse would be able to show me something. But the closer we got to her flat, the more restless my Alpha got.”

Jimin pauses to take a deep breath. “Then, when she went from Miss Y/n to Luna, I felt her energy, prowess, and dominance, which intrigued my Alpha. He kept pushing to call her Luna to see her reaction repeatedly.”

“The lemon of her scent when she was in her Luna mode mixed so well with my orange. Then add on her natural sweet pea, your petrichor, hyung’s leather, and the vanilla mate scent,” groans Jimin. “It was so much. I can’t describe it.”

“Oh no, I get that. Trust me. My Alpha and I both reacted to her ‘little’ show. That is why I followed her outside. We had to be near her, get my hands on her, scent her. It’s irritating that she doesn’t recognize the mate scent and bonds forming yet,” Yoongi reminisces.

“But, Jimin-ah, what happened when the two of you were alone?” Yoongi asks, moving to the bench instead of the captain’s chair.

Once settled, Jimin lies down, his head in the older Alpha’s lap, “I told her about Seul-ki.”

A soft gasp of shock comes from Yoongi. Immediately, the younger alpha is covered in soft rain, followed by fingers running through his hair.

“She cried for us. She apologized for what Seul-ki did. She promised I could stay away, and she would be okay with it,” Jimin says softly.

The weight of your words made his chest tight, “My Alpha came out and scented her, Hyung. He accepted her declarations but got skittish when you came to get us.”

“Sorry to have interrupted that moment for you, Minnie,” apologized the jaguar hybrid. “I know it's been a while since your Alpha has initiated scenting with anyone.”

“I don’t understand it, hyung,” whines Jimin. “It’s like… my heart is everywhere, and my mind is trying to keep up after staying away.”

Yoongi watches the silent tears start to fall from his mate's eyes. Hooking a hand under Jimin’s neck and lifting, Yoongi leans down and softly kisses away the tears.

Jimin’s eyes flutter at the feeling of Yoongi’s lips on his skin. The jaguar's soft purr is heard as his kisses start covering the younger mate’s face.

Opening his eyes, Jimin cups Yoongi’s face, which pauses his kisses. “Yoongi-hyung, please.”

“I got you, my Minnie love,” Yoongi says as he leans down, lightly brushing his lips over Jimin’s.

A soft whine leaves Jimin before he moves to be more in Yoongi’s lap. His knees are curled against the back of the bench seat, and he is chest-to-chest with the jaguar. Yoongi continues to leave almost phantom kisses on Jimin’s lips.

Once settled, Jimin rests one hand on Yoongi’s chest, his other hand sliding around to the back of Yoongi’s head with another whine.

“What is it you want, my Minnie love? Use your words,” Yoongi teases with a slight nip to Jimin’s lower lip.

“Alpha, help settle my… my everything. Mate, Alpha, kiss me, please,” Jimin begs, gripping the older Alpha with both hands.

“Hmm, there is my good boy,” Yoongi smiles, tightening his grip on Jimin’s neck and securing his other hand on the younger man’s thigh.

Jimin instinctually tenses. After all, he is still an Alpha, and being trapped isn’t normal. Breathing in for a few seconds, Jimin connects with their personal mate bond. It is almost instantaneous, and the younger man sighs in relief and relaxes into the security his mate’s hold provides.

Once that change happens, Yoongi kisses Jimin, grounding Jimin’s thoughts and feelings away from what has happened in the last week, bringing him to the here and now.

Yoongi’s scent fills Jimin’s every breath.

Yoongi’s body heat penetrates Jimin’s very core.

Yoongi’s mouth pulls to be Jimin’s sole focus.

Yoongi matches the intensity of the kiss and attempts to follow erratic Jimin's pace. As turned on as he was at Y/n’s display as Luna, he knows this is not about him.

When Jimin licks at the seam of Yoongi’s mouth, he immediately gives in, allowing the young Alpha to explore and try to find some form of control. Jimin's taste is beautiful, and the feel of his tongue tangling with Yoongi’s is mesmerizing.

However, Jimin doesn’t want to be in charge. He wants the older Alpha to put him in his place. So, he changes tactics, sucking not so gently on Yoongi’s tongue, pulling a groan from the older mate. With that delicious sound, Jimin knows he won't stay passive much longer.

After seven years of learning the meaning behind every noise, scent change, and muscle movement, playing each other like a fiddle isn't hard.

One more harsh suck of Yoongi’s tongue, matched with a tug of his hair, causes the elder Alpha’s hands to grip tightly, and his hips jerk up, aching for some friction.

Pulling away from Yoongi, Jimin says in a sultry voice, “Something wrong, Alpha?”

“No, but I think you might want to ask yourself that,” Yoongi smirks. Quickly, he uses the grip on his neck to angle Jimin’s body to lay across his lap, with his back resting against the side of the van.

Confusion furrows Jimin’s brow, “What do you…Ahhh!” Jimin’s thoughts are cut off at the feel of Yoongi palming his growing erection.

Cupping Jimin’s length through his tight, dancing pants, Yoongi slowly moves his hand up and down. Relishing every twitch of the younger mate’s member.

When God created Jimin as a short man, it was because someone added inches to the wrong leg. Out of the mates, Jimin was unmatched in length.

Paying attention with a tighter grip at the head, “What was that, Minnie?”

“Alpha... Ahh... aaalphha,” whines Jimin as he starts to rut into Yoongi’s hand. M…mooore please, Alpha.” Any dominance or control the younger mate thought he had from before was lost in the waves of pleasure Yoongi granted Jimin.

Glancing out the dark-tinted windows, Yoongi is starting to recognize some of the surroundings, meaning they are close to the packhouse. “You think you can finish before we get to the packhouse, Minnie? Will you be a good boy and give me your release?”

“Yes, yes, Alpha. Please let me, Alpha. I’m a good boy, please,” whines Jimin.

“Mmm… I do love it when you are my good boy. Asking so politely,” Yoongi says as quickens his speed, which causes the red panda to groan unapologetically.

The graceful bend of his cock barely keeps the young mate's impressive length below his waistband. A damp spot starts to form on Jimin’s pants from the pre-cum steadily leaking out.

The sight is making Yoongi’s mouth water. Seokjin may have an oral fixation, but it was Yoongi with tongue technology. The jaguar hybrid’s textured tongue was a bonus for his mates when his desire to drink them dry took over.

A brief moan escapes Yoongi at the thought of what you would taste like and how you would react to the feel of his tongue on your skin and in your various depths. A high-pitched whine from the panda in his lap brings Yoongi back to his current task.

Changing his rhythms, Yoongi brings Jimin closer to his goal, their aroused scent growing thick in the air. Yoongi makes a note to compensate the driver for his discretion and for taking an extra-long route back.

Slipping his hand down to play with Jimin’s taught balls. “Ohh, Minnie,” coos Yoongi as he squeezes them. “My good boy is sooo heavy. You’re so full. Have you been saving it for me? Hmm, my good boy?”

While Yoongi may be playing the young Alpha’s body like a pro, it’s Yoongi’s words that bring Jimin into a headspace of comfort and grounding. Purring the words out, Yoongi says, “Good boy. Such a good boy for me. Saving everything for me. How I wish to swallow you all up, but that will have to be for another time.”

Glancing up one more time, Yoongi can see the packhouse gate. With a firm squeeze, Yoongi palms Jimin with a tempo fast enough that Jimin can only go along for the ride. His muscles strain to hold on just a little longer as the coil in his abdomen winds tighter.

His whines and pleas are like music to Yoongi’s ears as variations of Alpha, too much, don’t stop, good boy, and please fire off in random order from Jimin. His body is taught as he holds on for dear life, curling into himself as he builds higher and higher.

Yoongi solely focuses on the pleasure displayed on Jimin’s face. He encourages the red panda to lose himself in the heat of the moment, praises him for being such a good boy, and always reminds the young mate that Yoongi has him.

At the sound of silence followed by a gasp, Yoongi knows Jimin is right there, waiting for his Alpha like a good boy.

Tilting Jimin’s head back and into his shoulder, Yoongi growls one command before biting over Jimin’s mating mark, “Cum.”

The reaction is immediate and without thought. Jimin lets out a high-pitched whine with his back bowed as he gives Yoongi his release. Rutting against the older man’s palm, he rides out his high, giving everything to the older mate as a good boy should.

“Look at you. Such a good, messy boy cumming for me,” Yoongi says, his eyes now admiring the sizable dark patch showing on Jimin’s pants. “I think you deserve a reward for being such a good boy. Don’t you agree, my Minnie love?”

“Yes, please. Good boy for Alpha.” Jimin huffs between breaths, his unfocused eyes searching Yoongi’s face for what to do next.

Namjoon may be the Prime Alpha, but Yoongi was one of the Dominants in the pack when it came to different forms of pleasure. Yoongi has set rewards and aftercare requirements for all his mates.

“When we finish parking, you will wait for your reward in my den. Understood?” instructs Yoongi softly, running his hands over Jimin’s thigh and massaging his neck.

“Yes, Alpha,” breathes out the younger mate, still aching for more.

The food smelled divine but spicy, which worried you because spice was definitely not your thing. However, you were reassured that only a little over half of the food was spicy because Taehyung couldn’t handle spiciness either.

Once at the packhouse, Seokjin helped Namjoon bring your bags and dinner inside, allowing you to carry only your purse. You were surprised that Yoongi or Jungkook were not waiting for you. You need to get used to not monopolizing their time starting now. By reminding yourself that they have a house full of mates who also need some of their attention, you attempt to push any negative feelings away.

Going into what would officially be your room by the end of the week, you looked around and imagined what you would do with it. It’s not like it's permanent-permanent, but still, having a plant or some books. Maybe photos of your pack would be lovely.

Agh, first you have to do something with the bed. You were given a lot of pillows and blankets, but they were piled in various ways. It would be what your mom would call “a down-right mess.” Letting out a deep sigh of sadness, you started to rearrange everything. Putting things back into what would be considered a proper bed by laying the pillows at the top and smoothing the blankets as flat as possible with one good hand.

Growing up in a family that insisted on perfection, you always hated making your bed in the mornings. However, keeping your room clean and having a 5-star hotel-looking bed helped overshadow some of your shortcomings.

Your friends in Colorado were always impressed with your cleanliness, which was a point of pride and joy for your mother. One of the few things your mother would praise you about was a spotless bed and awards from horseback riding competitions.

Once you moved to California, Evie and her siblings never understood why your mother would yell about your bedding habits. You always tried to brush it off and avoided having sleepovers at your place because of it.

“Y/n?” The sound of your name being called pulls you from your thoughts as you look at the doorway to find Hoseok.

“Hi, Hoseok-ssi. Did you have a good day today?” you ask, pulling the duvet just an inch farther down.

“Hi. Yeah. Just got some new things this Airbnb didn’t have for the pack.” Looking around you with concern, he questions, “Are you going somewhere?”

“Umm… no, well, the dining room in a moment,” you answer, looking around to ensure you are done.

Standing and walking to him, you say, “I think Jin and Prime Alpha should have everything set out by now. We stopped for takeout at JinCook, a local Korean restaurant that is nearby.”

Even though you walk closer to him, his eyes stay focused on your bed causing you to attempt to explain why it looks as it does, “I'm sorry my bed is still messy. Making it with only one hand is harder than one would think. I would have made it this morning but was in a rush.”

“I am not… it’s not… it’s well made. You make a bed better than half the people I know, but why? It's already getting darker outside, and you will be sleeping soon,” he asks, his eyes finally looking at you.

“Mother always said, ‘If you make your bed every morning, you will have accomplished the first task of the day, and if you cannot do the little things, then you can never do the things worth being recognized for,’” you recite the words that have been ingrained in you for years.

Hoseok’s confusion shows plainly on his face as he clarifies, “Your mother said that? She made you break down… I mean, remake your bed every day?”

“Yep, and I would be in trouble if I didn’t. There’s nothing wrong with making your bed and keeping a clean house, Hoseok,” you pat his arm and move past him, heading to the dining room.

Hoseok remains in the doorway. Glaring at the bed and processing what you said. Soon, the smell of cherries grows more substantial, “Jin.”

“Hello, Hoba,” he stops, glancing over Hoseok’s shoulder, “Where is Y/n?”

“She went to the dining room, but look,” he moves to the side, allowing the eldest mate to look at your room.

Looking in, Seokjin smiles. He sees that you used the travel gear he left for you, and it pleases his Alpha to provide something.

His eyes then travel to your bed, smile dropping, “Her nest.”

“She tore it down, Hyung. I caught her trying to fold corners with one hand, and then she apologized for it still being messy,” Hoseok says, his voice hushing with astonishment.

“What? First off, she needs to teach me how to make those corners, but more importantly, why?” he comments and asks as he walks farther into the room.

“Jin! Hoseok! Jimin! Yoongi! Jungkook! The food will get cold,” you yell from the dining room.

They look towards the dining room as Seokjin says, “She knows about nests. She told me last night when we helped gather materials. She kept saying she was making a blanket fort or human nest.”

“Namjoon said there was an interesting interaction at her packhouse, and she asked Yoon and Minnie if they were offended by what she did because she was human,” adds the eldest.

“What did she do?” Hoseok asks, turning his attention back to his mate in the room.

“I didn’t get details other than she proved why she is the head of her pack. Well, that and she has a feisty Omega,” Seokjin informs Hoseok.

Looking back at the hotel-ready bed, Hoseok asks, “She may know what it is, but does she understand what it means to us? Or that we would be okay with her keeping it? Rather, we would want her to keep it, right?”

Taking Hoseok’s hand and gently kissing the back, Seokjin leads Hoseok toward the dining room, saying, “Of course, she could keep it. I don't know what she knows about nests, but I did mention that she should build one with Jimin.”

Hoseok stops abruptly with a gasp. Hurrying back to your room, he shuts the door while glancing at the stairs, “Jin-hyung, could you imagine how Jimin would react to seeing her nest gone?!?”

“Even though he didn’t say anything, he looked happy to see her have one when he saw it after he got home from dance practice. It's something to connect with her around,” Hoseok says, rejoining Jin. “Her nest and the inclusion of the pack are what made him confident about seeing her this afternoon.”

“Oh, yeah, no. He doesn’t need to see that she broke it down,” Jin agrees.

The boys find their seats and start to dig in. Shortly after, the remaining three joined the table with wet hair and looked ready for bed. You note they all look still pink from their showers and wonder how hot they take them.

Dinner was yummy, all thanks to your non-spicy companion sitting next to you. Taehyung saved you more than once from eating something that you were sure would equal the death of your stomach.

Conversations were more manageable than yesterday. Everyone seems to talk around or over others. They randomly jump from topic to topic. It’s a bit of chaos, but they are mates, and it feels oddly domestic.

Not once did you feel unable to keep up. However, after you yawned for the “millionth time,” according to Yoongi, you were ushered off to bed. You knew the boys had to be tired, but they all seemed far from ready to sleep.

You crawl into bed after changing and using the skincare products left in your bathroom. You spend the next few minutes pushing, pulling, stuffing, and rebuilding your little blanket fort.

This time, you try out Jimin’s body pillow, Taehyung’s blanket, and Hoseok’s pillow, even though you really want to use the ones left by Yoongi and Jungkook. You figure that this would be the first small step to pay attention to them equally.

It's not professional to have favorites, right?

“I guess a pack meeting is in order for a few reasons,” Namjoon starts.

“A few reasons? That is one way to put it,” Jungkook chuckles, his eyes roaming over to Yoongi and Jimin before settling back on the Prime Alpha.

“I will let Yoongi explain Y/n’s living situation first. Then, we will discuss how things went with her family pack, answer any questions, and make any necessary plans. Yoongi-hyung?”

All eyes shift to the jaguar, stoic-faced as ever, weighing how to explain anything that has happened today.

“Well, Y/n lives closer to PMS in the Downtown LA area with rather high crime rates. My Alpha is not happy about that. Her building doesn’t have any gates or locks to get into the building,” Yoongi starts with the most concerning part of the visit for him as your protector.

“Even though she lives on one of the upper levels, she only has a simple deadbolt and thin chain to keep herself safe,” he adds. Sounds of displeasure rise in the room, but they are still respectful to you sleeping nearby.

“When I went to drop her off, she wouldn’t let me in her flat. She mentioned a nearby place she frequents for coffee, tea, and food. It’s really a gem of a place and could easily grow with the right guidance, but that isn’t the issue,” he continued.

“If it’s a gem, why is there an issue, Hyung?” asks Taehyung, who was thinking of ways to help the business before the crypticness of Yoongi’s comment set in.

“Carlo, a domestic Mexican dog Hybrid, runs it. He said his hybrid side is called a Chamuco. Anyway, he runs the kitchen and handles the café’s shipment needs. He is happily mated to his wife, and they are waiting for their second litter.”

The pack smiles at the happy news, but their faces still show confusion about where the issue is.

“His business partner, Payu, is a Thai human infatuated with Y/n. He got defensive with me regarding her, especially when I couldn’t explain my intentions or who I was,” Yoongi tries to tell his mates without a hiss.

“She is a lovely person. I am not surprised that she has admirers, and it’s nice that she has someone looking out for her. His crush will fade eventually,” Seokjin comments, still confused about why it’s a problem.

“No, Hyung. He told me he planned to ask her out the next time she stopped by the café,” informs Yoongi, stressing how soon things may get even more complicated.

“She lives here now, so going to that specific cafe will and can be hard. We need to make sure to avoid the area and keep this potential event from happening. Send its location to the pack chat, Yoongi,” Namjoon instructs, giving no more for discussion.

Nodding at the order, Yoongi just sends a Google link showing the address, hours, and photos of the two owners in front of the business doors.

“I know we all want to keep her safe, which we can while she is here, but we cannot do anything right now about her flat being where it is. However, it is rather small for a packhouse,” Namjoon continues.

“Yeah, I am pretty sure that the whole flat could fit in the living room here,” Jimin comments.

“Seriously?” Hoseok exclaims but is quickly hushed by the other pack members. “Sorry. How does she have the basics needed for survival in a small place? You said it was the packhouse, too?”

“Yeah, her family pack would refer to it as the packhouse. It haaaas enough to get by, I guess,” Jimin shrugs.

“I spoke with her, Beta, that fox hybrid from her work,” he says, looking around and making sure everyone remembers whom he is talking about. “He says that the packhouse moved there about two years ago, and about a month after she accepted him to the pack.

“Who accepted him to the pack?” Jungkook asks, his ears standing tall, and he starts thinking of how to impress the Alpha of your pack.

With a smile remembering the moment in the flat when the pack dynamics took over, Jimin looks directly at the youngest Alpha, “Their Luna, Y/n.”

Jungkook’s bunny ears drop at this newest information, “Luna Y/n… Y/n is the Pack Luna… like the head of the pack is our human mate Y/n?”

Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin nod as they watch the rest of the pack process the information.

Seokjin and Hoseok seem shocked, but this makes sense, given how you have behaved around them thus far. However, they still wonder why you keep getting shocked at some of their Alpha behaviors, as you act as the female equivalent of an Alpha in your pack. Wouldn’t you know these things already?

Jungkook, on the other hand, is going through so many emotions. His mind is filled with images of him scenting you, his mate, who is also a Luna. God, if he had known that last night…

“Does she acknowledge herself as Luna, or is it like an honorary or teasing title between friends?” Jungkook asks, his face almost as stoic as Yoongi’s, “Hyungs, please be serious. Honestly, is she a Luna?”

Clearing his throat, Yoongi leans forward with a smirk, “Put it this way… After her Omega decided to threaten the pack with being neutered, Luna Y/n scruffed the Omegan cat to remind her of her place in front of everyone.”

The tension rises as the thought of you holding any power intrigues and entices each of them in different ways. Most of their minds wander on different ways of getting you to use that power with or around them in different situations.

On the other hand, some want you to relinquish that power and control, allowing them to dominate your every sense, getting you to relax fully into their Alphas, and accepting the safety they will provide you.

“In the heat of the moment, she is by all means ‘Luna Y/n’ with no questions asked,” Jimin interjects. “However, when I called her Luna, she became flustered and was concerned about her and her Omega offending us.”

“Let's just say Y/n has had to do many things and has become skilled in ways that most humans wouldn’t even try properly. She certainly doesn’t abuse that power like some more dominant humans would do. Though, I am not convinced that even Y/n knows where she stands in the overall scheme of things,” the Prime Alpha comments.

Looking at each of his mates, Namjoon says, “I spoke with her Omega. I learned a decent amount about Y/n interactions with Mrs. Genevie’s family pack. What concerned me was Genevie explaining that Y/n took to the pack quickly, almost like she was an orphan or a stray.”

“An orphan?” questions Seokjin. “What about her mother or father?”

Namjoon’s face fell, “After talking with both members of her pack, I only learned that she came to California with her mom and brother. Her mom made sure she never talked about her father or that side of the family.”

Seokjin and Hoseok share a look, both remembering what you did to your nest.

“I think her mom was quite controlling and…” Seokjin pauses, looking at Jimin. “And I think she has something against hybrids. Which doesn’t make sense because Y/n’s mom allowed her to be friends and interact with her Omega’s family pack.”

“Why are you looking at me? Why do you say that, Hyung?” Jimin asks, scooting forward in his chair. His orange scent is curled with worry. His eyes look between the two older mates as they share his concern.

“We all saw she made a nest with our things either this morning when some of you peeked in to check on her or when you returned earlier today. Before she came in here, I was talking with her, and well… she made her bed,” Hoseok says with his eyes never leaving Jimin.

“Wha…What do you mean?” Jimin pushes.

“I mean, she tore down her ‘blanket fort.’ Put our extra materials at the foot of the bed, and it looked the same as when we arrived for the very first time,” Hoseok explains.

“She didn’t break it down because she wanted to. She broke it down because her mother drilled it into her to do so—to the point that she would get into trouble if she didn’t,” adds Seokjin while slightly glaring at Hoseok.

Jimin stands and paces behind his mates' chairs. He is trying to keep the memories at bay—the memories of his former owners—the voices of his former owners scolding him, the feeling of worthlessness, and the sounds of flesh beating into flesh. Did you live like that, too? Were you raised to be someone who you really are not, just like him?

Most hybrids were purchased or raised by the small percent of the world who had more money than they knew what to do with. Jimin’s mother was pregnant with him when she was bought. After he was born, they trained him to be a showpiece.

They thought that because he was male and a type of bear, that automatically made him a strong and studly Alpha.

As a young boy, Jimin was soft and cuddly. He learned to build nests from his Omega mother but had to hide them. If their owners saw him build or sleep in a nest, they would tear it down and beat him.

After he presented as an Alpha, they would lash out at him if he displayed any non-Alpha behaviors, such as scenting, cuddling, purring, and even denning, which is the Alpha equivalent of nesting. However, the stupid humans didn’t know any different or care to find out.

When they attempted to breed her again, Jimin’s mother was too old to carry cubs. It wasn’t long after he presented as an Alpha that his mother passed away due to complications with the forced pregnancy. The owners didn’t care. All they knew was that she was a sow that had successfully had other cubs, so why not more?

Once his mother passed, Jimin shut down. No longer having the warmth of his mother, he withdrew into himself and became the perfect Alpha for his owners. He was the perfect gentleman at events and the amazingly attentive ‘toy’ for their close friends, male or female.

Jimin only felt like himself when they went to extravagant galas, and they would make him dance with anyone willing to spend money. He would lose himself in the music.

It wasn’t until his owner’s best friend mentioned how Jimin’s flexibility and graceful movements would look beautiful on stage that he found some form of reprieve.

That reprieve came in the form of schooling. His owners sent him to a performing arts University to learn several dance, writing, and singing styles. The goal was to find more ways to make money off Jimin. More skills meant more money.

During this time, a scout approached him and asked if he was interested in becoming an idol. After some planning, Jimin jumped at the chance to be an Idol because it would allow him to escape his owners and find his freedom.

Luckily for him, not only did he find his freedom, he found his mates.

It took Jimin and Taehyung about 15 minutes to build up to an acceptable nest by using some of the new bedding that Hoseok had gotten to replace what they had given you. Most of that was spent trying to get their scents to stick to the new bedding before shoving it all on the bed in a half-assed way because everyone was exhausted.

Seokjin lay against the far wall under the large panoramic window. Jimin pressed his back into his front. Finishing the Jimin sandwich was Yoongi. Seokjin and Yoongi wrapped their arms around Jimin to ground him to the present. Both older Alphas saw the shadows of the past haunt their precious panda’s face and wanted to offer solace for him.

Jungkook and Taehyung were cuddled together on Yoongi's side. The former became the latter’s pillow for the night. Taehyung curled an arm around the bunny, and the other hand was tucked into Yoongi’s hair, absent-mindedly scratching his scalp behind his ears.

Hoseok smiled at his mates, already hearing soft snores from a few but noting that the Prime Alpha had not yet joined. Listening through the house, he could hear movement down the hall.

Softly closing the door to the pack nest, Hoseok went to find the missing Alpha. It didn’t take long to find him as he was pacing the dining room and kitchen. His eyebrows furrowed, his tail hanging low, almost touching the ground, and he seemed to be in his own dark world.

“Prime Alpha?” Hoseok calls softly, trying not to startle his leader.

The calling of his title snaps Namjoon out of his thoughts, “Hoseok-hyung, why are you still up?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he responds, walking closer to him. The Prime Alpha’s faint leather scent tells Hoseok more than enough. Closing the distance, the marten pulls his wolf mate into a tight hug.

Melting into the hold of his mate, Namjoon breathes in his lilac and vanilla scent. Allowing the presence of the pack’s sunshine mate, as they call him, to calm the racing and running of Namjoon’s mind into something more manageable. “Are we doing the right thing by Y/n?”

“Oh, Joonie. I know I was harsh, and the pack didn’t respond well to your idea, but I think it was the only way you thought would help us keep her,” comments Hoseok, rubbing his back in comforting circles.

“I believe the mate bond is starting to work magic, Joon. She may be human, but she isn’t immune to it. Remember last year you read all those studies?” Hoseok questioned.

At Namjoon’s nod, Hoseok continued, “I remember. You were so interested in the results. They showed that humans can respond to the bond as strongly as a hybrid but take a while to recognize it.”

“She won’t be mad that we are lying to her? That we are doing all of this with alternative intentions? That I am a horrible Prime Alpha because I didn’t act on the bond right away?” Namjoon asks rapidly.

“Joonie… Joon…” Hoseok tries to interrupt, “Alpha!” The title again stops Namjoon from continuing to spiral. Pulling back from the hug, Namjoon looks at Hoseok with his eyes, searching for answers that he knows only Y/n holds.

“Prime Alpha, Namjoon, our wolfie,” Hoseok coos. “Y/n may be all those or none of these. Just know she is also kind. She seems to be just as insecure about everything as we are.”

Namjoon’s eyes focus again on something Hoseok cannot see, “I want to talk with her family pack again without Y/n. At least I would like to let them know she is our mate. Maybe they can help us.”

“That is a brilliant idea, Joon!” smiles Hoseok.

“Maybe we should all meet with them, just me or a few of us?” Namjoon asks as his focus returns to the mate in his arms.

“Well, tomorrow, Jin-hyung has a plan for y/n. He wants to start the one-on-one dates and has already ensured his schedule was cleared. So maybe something with you and Yoongi-hyung?”

“That is a good idea. I am glad Seokjin is going to start the dates. He always has a level head when bringing mates into the fold. Unlike me, my muddled mind and Kookie wanting to jump right into things,” chuckles Namjoon. Taking Hoseok’s hand, the two start walking to the pack nest, and Namjoon adds, “I think tomorrow, I will let the rest of the pack know and ask who wants to join me.”

“Sounds great, Alpha. Now let’s go to bed,” agrees Hoseok as he opens the door and leads the Pack Alpha into the nest.

Glancing over the nest, seeing each of his mates with soft features of sleep gracing their features makes love in Namjoon’s heart blossom. He always wanted to be the Pack Alpha, and then when it was apparent all his mates were also Alphas, it was an honor to be recognized as their Prime Alpha. Joining the Alpha pile in the pack nest, his leather and vanilla scent returns in full as he relaxes.

Focusing on the partly open door, the smell of Sweetpea blows in, mixing with Hoseok’s lilac, Jungkook’s snickerdoodle, Taehyung’s ebony, Yoongi’s petrichor, Jimin’s oranges, Seokjin’s cherries, and all with the rich undertone of vanilla.

The scents reminded the Prime Alpha that his mates were at least safe in the packhouse. Namjoon sighed, his body succumbing to sleep while his Alpha settled, a bit more at ease now with the plan that had been made.

Previous / Next

Taglist - Closed

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rei-ismyname · 6 months ago

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Logan shouldn't be allowed near children

I know that's a loaded title but I stand by it. There's obviously an element of Flanderisation going on but considering his stated reason for opening the Jean Grey school he is far too eager to murder children.

Why TF is he leaping at children, snarling with his claws out? Check out the frothing drool.

For example, in All-New X-Men, the O5 have just been bought to the future by Hank McCoy. He stops teaching his violence through yelling class and heads out the front, leaping at the 16 year olds with his claws out. Not Hank, who brought them there but clearly traumatised children - while screaming like a lunatic of course. Even if he's not trying to kill them, what purpose does terrifying them serve? He clearly IS trying to kill them, though. I'm sure his students would love to see their headmaster butcher confused children in front of them.

Unsurprisingly, he scares the fuck out of them. In part influenced by constant threats of his violence, the O5 steal the X-Jet and flee, explicitly doubting this guy is an X-Man. His thoughts about the 16 year old Jean Grey... No dude, this isn't the Jean you know. She's a child you've tried to kill. Fucking creep.

This one is great. Young Scott has enough going on without this frothing beast advocating for his immediate execution as punishment for his future self's actions. Out front of the school with literally everyone watching. He's using his authority to advocate for slaughtering a child. Thankfully nobody agrees with him, but this is traumatic, terrifying, and affects Scott especially so badly he runs away.

No wonder he freaks out and leaves. Obviously the headmaster of a school should drop what he's doing, not for his wellbeing but to get his bike back. How is he in charge of anyone's wellbeing or moral instruction? He demands absolute obedience while doing nothing to deserve it. It's all about how Logan feels.

Here he is trying to gut a 15 year old Wiccan for having Scarlet Witch vibes, not for the or last time. I'm a little surprised he remained an Avenger after this. When you have knives for hands everyone looks like a pincushion. Except that's not it, because everyone else is a living weapon too and they mostly manage to be somewhat rational.

Why are his claws out here? Is he trying to kill him? What did he expect after threatening and traumatizing him? Snarling and shouting like an animal - isn't he trying to emulate Chuck here?

I can't remember why he's doing this but it's not the first time he's tried to kill Hope. Didn't work then either.

A 16 year old Jean uses a telepathic projection of the Phoenix to aid Wolverine in a fight. He stupidly thinks it's real and straight up tries to kill her. The bad guys get away. Not sure how many times he has to attempt to kill the Phoenix before he understands it's not an appropriate thing to do, nor is it about him. He's more like Sabertooth than he thinks, except he thinks he's in the right and somehow never gets called out. Logan has advanced senses - how is his instinct to straight up kill her instead of investigating further?

We can do better

I think that once Logan reached a certain point of saturation he became static. The lone wolf that's the best there is at what he does, and what he does is behave so unpleasantly it's hard to believe anyone would want to be near him, let alone allow him to run a school. He says 'bub' a lot and he snikts at the drop of a hat while repeating the same interpersonal drama over and over. I see him as a frequent self insert for the worst kind of toxic masculinity yet he's more popular than ever. No judgement if you like him at all, but I think the character deserves better. Somehow he's still a misunderstood loner despite a lot of people knowing him very well - with the amount of teams and books he's in he has the most active social life in 616. It'll never happen but I'd like to see him retire, as there are several Wolverines better than he..

#x comics #Logan Behavior #wolverine #all new X-Men #cyclops #x men #comics #marvel #wiccan #jean grey #hope summers #hank mccoy #wolverine critical

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ladyloveandjustice · 2 months ago

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So running this poll caused me to reawaken my headcanons on which Sailor Moon character would be the Batfamily's favorite. I think I did this before but I'm being more thoughtful right now.

Bruce Wayne: In the tags I was musing about this, and basically, Tuxedo Mask is very like him (Sad orphan, wealthy, introverted, kind of uptight, has less powers than the others, like high places) but that would actually annoy him because he doesn't like himself. I settled on Sailor Jupiter as his favorite, he relates to her having a similar background (orphan, martial arts skills) but the way she's able to be so openly sweet and nurturing, when he struggles to show those sides of himself, makes him admire her, annnd that also really reminds him of Dick. He also really likes Sailor Pluto, vibes with her loneliness and mystery. He is,to the surprise of many, a Chibiusa fan, because she's essentially Usagi's Robin and she gives him parenting feels. Hotaru as well, for the goth aesthetic and general introversion and reminding him of Cass.

Dick Grayson: Sailor Moon. He thinks she's very funny and sweet and loves her stupid speeches. I think he'd also be a Chibi-Usa fan and passionate defender. He does find it very funny how much like Bruce Tuxedo Mask is (and he appreciates his ridiculous speeches) so he's a fave too.

Barbara Gordon: She likes Mercury a lot, but her true favorites are Sailor Venus and Sailor Jupiter, they remind her of Dick and Dinah, and she just thinks they're fun. Hotaru also gives her a lot of feelings for reminding her of Cass.

Jason Todd: I think he'd like Sailor Mars and Sailor Uranus about equally (and he also likes Sailor Neptune). He really relates to how Haruka believes in doing what's necessary, even killing, and even vibes with how she's conflicted sometimes. Michiru is hard for him to pin down but he does really like her.

Tim Drake: Immediately Sailor Mercury came to mind. Considering his taste in friends and love interests he might like Sailor Venus (though the fact she reminds him of Kon would just annoy him half the time) but yeah, I think he'd vibe with Mercury the most, not just the "she's smart one" thing but he'd find her sweet and root for her to come out of her shell. He'd also be fond of Tuxedo Mask.

Stephanie Brown: Sailor Moon, but Mars and Venus are close seconds. She loves silly girls and she loves angry girls. She's fond of Hotaru too because she reminds her of Cass.

Cassandra Cain: Sailor Saturn, she really relates to her, but she also likes Sailor Moon a lot, mostly because she reminds her of Steph a bit and Usagi triggers her protective instincts.

Kate Kane: Like many a lesbian (myself included), Uranus and Neptune meant a lot to her when she was young and even if it weren't for that I think she really vibes with their personalities. Uranus might have the edge considering her taste, but I'm going to give her Neptune as a fave, she finds her intriguing.

Damian Wayne: Sailor Mars, self explanatory imo. Also he pretends he doesn't actually like the show and calls it stupid. He likes Luna and Artemis and Diana a lot.

Selina Kyle: Luna and Artemis and Diana lmao. But as far as humans go, Sailor Neptune. Her elegance and general loyalty and moral conflict appeal. She also likes Sailor Mars, and does feel protective of Sailor Moon. Tuxedo Mask reminding her of Bruce alternately makes her frustrated with him and have affection for him just like real life.

Alfred: Tuxedo Mask, he likes his taste in clothing and yep, reminds him of Bruce. He also likes Sailor Moon.

I have not read enough comics with Duke to pin him down, I'm sorry, (Maybe he'd like Sailor Moon? From what little I've read?) Same with Harper.

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r473n · 1 day ago

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BLEACH SMUTFEST 2025

DAY 1: AU

Mayuri x Kenpachi x reader (kinda)

Modern Gang AU

In a world of violence and territory wars, there's very little time for love.

But even at the darkest hour, beautiful connections can still blossom...

... or reader gets Zaraki and Mayuri to do it!

Link to Ao3 or click more!

+18 ONLY below the cut!!!

Tw: drugs, stabbing, blood, anal sex, rimming, voyeurism

You’re working behind the bar of the Kuchiki family restaurant, too engrossed in cleaning and tidying up to register much of the outer world.

It’s been a boring day and all you really want is to catch up with the guys, but you need to tend to your responsibilities first.

Two big and burly men enter and sit down on the stools.

“Hiya!” You greet them with a tired smile. “I'm sorry, we’re five minutes to closing so I can only do a quick drink for you guys, no cocktails or food, I'm afraid.”

One of them engages you in small talk - how a quick drink is all they need tonight, what a lovely weather you’re recently having, how they used to come to this pub years ago... blah, blah, blah. There’s something about the other customer that bugs you, he’s quietly looking around, but you don’t want to seem rude so you follow the conversation and nod and laugh at the right times.

You turn your back to them to serve the drinks and immediately regret it. Both men jump the bar, one goes to the small office, the other immobilises you against his chest, his hand pressed against your mouth.

You try to squirm free and instinctively bite down on his fingers until he let’s go of you, yelping in pain.

“ZARAKI!!!” You scream at the top of your lungs, drowning him out. “ZARAK-“

Your breath hitches in your throat as a knife sinks into your flesh, as easily as if you were made of air. Once, twice, three times.

You look down in shock, a rapidly growing circle of blood staining your apron. And it’s only when you try to scream again that you feel the pain, a sharp pang that spreads from the wound to your spine and has you doubled down in agony.

Enter Zaraki Kenpachi, six-foot-seven tall giant made of raw muscle and masculinity. A long, nasty scar running down the side of his face, long black hair falling down his back. He wears his suit trousers tight, and his white shirt unbuttoned at the top.

Even those who don’t know of his bloody reputation scurry in fear when they see his menacing looks.

Then a thud and a growl and feet scrambling to find purchase on the tiled floor in their haste to run away. The thugs manage to escape, mostly unscathed, having failed in their mission to steal valuable information on the movements of the Kuchiki clan, one of the most influential gangs of the underworld.

Zaraki's calloused fingers lift your chin. “Are you ok- oh, shit!” he sees the blood and turns to grab a cloth. “Hold this against the wound, harder.” You comply and the next instant you’re being lifted bridal style and rushed through the back door, down four flights of stairs and into the basement, where you lose consciousness.

“Now, how many times do I have to tell you to STOP BOTHERING ME?!” Kurotsuchi's angry voice can be heard the moment Zaraki storms through the door. He’s somewhere there, beyond the thick plastic curtains, in amongst the multiple tanks, tubs of chemicals and machines.

“Where the fuck are you, Kurotsuchi!?” Zaraki’s anxiety is palpable. He takes you to the operating table. The one where he himself lies down often, to have bullets and shrapnel cut out from his body. “KUROTSUCHI!”

“I'm here... You don’t have to be that loud, barbarian, I'm not that deaf.” Mayuri approaches leisurely, his lab coat doing nothing to hide just how eccentric he is. Short and thin, wearing ripped skinny jeans and black doc martens, his blue nails and spiked up mohawk only add to the grunge vibe of all his piercings and body mods. “What do you want?” he asks, unaware still, eyes on his phone, thumbs flying over the keyboard.

“What the fuck do you think I want? Help me!”

That gets his attention, he looks up and all the colour drains from his face despite the goth make-up that normally conceals most of his expressions.

“You moron! Why didn’t you say anything!” he throws himself at you, his eyes scanning your body. “Help me take their clothes off!”

“Uh? What... uh... I don’t know about that.”

“How the hell am I supposed to fix them otherwise, you pea-brained troglodyte?” Mayuri scoffs, slicing your top open with a pair of scissors. “There’s nothing sexual about this, so stop covering your eyes and HELP ME.”

For over an hour, the two men work in semi-silence, Mayuri gives the orders and demands instruments be handed over; Zaraki swears and curses under his breath, but does what he’s told.

At the end, Mayuri has managed to stop the bleeding, suture your lacerations and has left an almost invisible scar across your abdomen.

“Huh... now what?” Zaraki asks in a whisper.

“Now we wait for the anaesthesia to wear off.”

“Will they be ok?”

Mayuri seems to hesitate before flashing him an angry scowl. “They would be grand if you had done your job in the first place!”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, aren’t you head of security? Isn’t it your duty to keep us all safe? What were you doing?”

“For your information I was through in the restaurant having a well-deserved drink after a fucking long day!”

“Well-deserved? How absurd! You don’t deserve anything for doing the bare minimum.”

“The bare min-? You’re one to talk! You hide here in your creepy lab making drugs and think you’re a big, tough man, when I'm the one risking my neck every day. It’s fucking rough out there! I don’t see you making sure our borders are respected, making sure no other gangs try to sell in our turf, or standing in front of Lord Kuchiki when some fucker tries to take him out!”

“Yuk! You don’t have to call him Lord when he can’t hear you. I know fair well you despise the man as much as I do.”

“Huh! Yeah, that may be. But, how do I know he’s not got the whole place bugged? I ain’t risking my job.”

“Trust me, there are no bugs in my lab. I’d know, I check daily.”

“Tsk, only you would be that paranoid.”

“Call it what you will, I like to be prepared.” You twitch in your sleep, mumbling something incoherent. Mayuri directs his attention to the multiparameter, to ensure everything is still under control. “You should go home, Zaraki, they might not wake for a few hours.”

“What about you? Aren’t you exhausted after all that?”

“I'm always exhausted.” Mayuri sighs, stretching his arms over his head, his spine cracking. “Perks of the job.”

“Here.” Zaraki stands behind him and starts to massage his sore shoulders.

“Wha- what are you doing?”

“Stop wriggling, I'm trying to help you relax.”

Kurotsuchi considers arguing further, not one to normally enjoy physical touch, but it feels so good. Zaraki squeezes and rubs his tight muscles with ease, making quick work of the knots on his upper back. “You have very good hands...” he praises reflexively.

“Imagine what else they can do...”

His eyes fly open. Is that man flirting with him? “Huh... I bet they’d feel good in other places, too.”

Zaraki barks a gruff laugh. “Wanna check for yourself?” he purrs seductively in his ear.

“You guys... get a room.” You mutter weakly. Your body feels heavy and tired, but Mayuri’s chemical expertise ensures you’re mostly pain free.

The two men rush to your side, worried faces that make you want to laugh with fondness.

“Are you ok?” Zaraki asks.

“You've lost some blood, so you will feel a little drowsy, but your wounds should heal in a few weeks.” Mayuri interjects before you can answer. “How’s the pain?”

“I don’t feel much, whatever you’ve given me is some gooood shit.”

The scientist smirks at you, gold crowns glistening in the dim light. “I only create the best shit.”

You smile and put your hand on his arm. “So... where were you guys? Please don’t stop on my account.”

“Uh? We weren’t anywhere.” Zaraki frowns, confused.

“Not true.” You retort. “You were just about to make out.”

Both men recoil, blushing intensely. Mayuri being the first to clear his throat to reply. “Nonsense, I wouldn’t touch this idiot with a 10-foot pole.”

“Oi! I'm a fucking catch, I'll have you know!” the hitman complains.

You titter softly, feeling your sutures strain a little. “Oh, come on... I almost died just then, do it for me?”

“What do you think I am? A for hire whore?” Mayuri shakes his head no in disbelief.

“No one would pay for that, Kurotsuchi.” Zaraki chuckles, “You want us to make out... to make you feel better?”

You nod your head. “Pretty please?”

The truth is, you’ve been trying to get the two men to lower their defences and finally give in to their feelings for each other for months now. But they are just so incredibly stubborn that, no matter what you try, they always end up bickering and ruining the moment.

They look at each other, wondering if they’ve lost their mind.

“I'm willing if you are.” Zaraki shrugs.

“Oh, please... hold back your enthusiasm.” the scientist rolls his eyes. Zaraki wrenches him by the lapel of his lab coat and crashes their lips together in a brutal kiss, all teeth and vexation.

You want to squeal with glee!

It only takes a few seconds for Mayuri to melt into it and stop struggling, his hands find the back of Zaraki’s neck and pull him down to deepen the kiss, tongues coming out to play.

A while later they separate, lips swollen red and cheeks flushed.

“Is that... uh... was that enough?” Mayuri stammers, averting his gaze and shuffling to conceal the bulge in his crotch.

“I'm afraid not.” You reply, grinning mischievously. “I feel like you guys didn’t really put your everything into it, you know?” You slide your hand beneath the hem of your trousers to rub circles over your clit.

“Oh, shit...” Zaraki’s hungry eyes follow every one of your movements. “Fuck, Kurotsuchi, what the hell have you given them?”

“Nothing!” Mayuri squeals defensively. “Only analgesia, this level of randiness has nothing to do with me!”

“I'm not the only one with a boner right now, look at yourselves, boys.” You say, nodding at their respective obvious erections.

“Huh... who would have thought you were such a freak...” Zaraki lets out an amused laugh. “You get off on watching, uh? And I always thought you were just a little innocent creature.”

“I am... until I'm not!” you answer with a giggle.

“This is ridiculous! We’re not going to have sex in front of you just to satisfy your voyeuristic kink!” Mayuri huffs, crossing his hands over his chest.

“Why not? It’s hot.” Zaraki’s sneaks a hand around his waist and pulls him flush with his chest. “Been wanting to do this for a while now, why waste the chance.”

Mayuri pretends to struggle, but he can’t fool you. The way he looks at Kenpachi when he thinks no one is watching... he’s been thirsting for that man and you can’t blame him.

One kiss turns into many, and both of them seem to forget about the world. A blur of hands groping and exploring, tugging at clothes until they are bare. Zaraki is devouring the smaller man’s neck, turning him into a panting, sighing mess. Mayuri lets himself be manhandled onto a nearby desk, his nails carving pink tracks on Zaraki’s muscular back.

“Be careful! Those beakers are expensive!” he gripes.

As a wordless answer, Zaraki swipes a large hand over the table, knocking everything off it and pushes him flat against the surface. “I don’t give a fuck. You got lube?”

“Why on earth would I carry lube with me?”

“Tsk, fine.”

Zaraki kneels down and buries his face between his legs, dragging his tongue all around his ass, licking and slurping until he’s covered in spit, stretching him with one, two, three fingers. When it looks like the scientist can’t take much more before cumming, Kenpachi stands back up, and hiking his ankles up to his shoulders, he breaches him in one slow thrust. In to the hilt he stops, allowing both of them a moment to adjust, before he sets up a lively rhythm that soon grows into a frantic smacking of his hips against Mayuri’s ass.

Their pants and moans go in crescendo as does their desire. You are absolutely drenched, fingering yourself in synchronicity with their thrusts, rubbing your clit with your thumb.

They hold onto each other for dear life as they approach their orgasm. Kurotsuchi goes first, after begging him to go harder, throwing his head back and releasing a dirty moan, his cock twitching and spurting thick ropes of cum all over his chest. Zaraki follows shortly after, hammering his hips faster and faster until he bursts inside him with a deep grunt.

The debauched show has your pussy contracting unsatisfactorily around your fingers, you wish you could orgasm with them, but your body is much too tired for it. You let out a resigned sigh and smile, watching them stare into each other’s eyes as they come down from their high.

“That was so cute.” You chirp, if only to watch them blush once again.

“Cute? Way to make a man feel small.” Zaraki chuckles, pulling out slowly.

“There was absolutely nothing cute about that. Your performance was adequate.” Mayuri’s attempt at regaining his composure, cum dribbling down his legs as he breathlessly searches for his underwear, is completely risible.

“Adequate? That’s even worse!” Zaraki whines, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“It was fine!” Kurotsuchi grumbles, pulling his top over his head. “Some minor details that we can refine over time, that’s all.”

“Over time?” You shout excitedly. “That mean there’s going to be more of this?”

“None of your business!” the shorter man retorts. “It’s not like you’re invited.”

Zaraki winks at you. “I mean, we kinda owe them.”

“Ugh! Whatever. But not until they’ve healed. You two aren’t messing with my sutures!” Kurotsuchi finally concedes.

“Can I participate too?” You don’t know where you get the cheek to even pose the question, but you can’t help but feel a little giddy when both men stare questioningly at each other and then hungrily at you.

“Maybe.” They say in unison.

#bleachsmutfest2025 #mayuri kurotsuchi #kenpachi zaraki #kenmayu #zaraki kenpachi #kurotsuchi mayuri

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