jellytoru

[jellytoru]

“what’s the wi-fi password?” you ask tooru. more accurately, you ask tooru’s back, because he’s busy turning on the tv and setting the channel to JSPORTS.

“oh, your name,” he says, “and then 13.”

you snort at his predictability. your name is kind of sweet, though, you remember watching it with him as teenagers, the tears running down his face and his thick denials that he totally wasn’t crying at the end.

Incorrect password for “Oikawifi.” your screen reads.

“it didn’t work,” you say, leaning over the back of the couch and stretching your arm out towards him. he’s standing about a foot from the screen with his left hand on his hip and the remote in the other, looking vaguely reminiscent of a father trying to navigate technology.

“dumb-dumb,” he turns to you, “did you forget how to spell your own name?”

“eh?” you say. “your name?”

“no, your name,” he says your forename then, and you color brilliantly, or at least it feels like it, your face hot, suddenly unable to look at him head-on. “and then 13. like—“

“josé blanco, i know,” you roll your eyes fondly, a defense against whatever this reveals about him. “you’re gonna get hacked.”

“no way, blanco will protect me,” he says. “and you. you’d protect me, wouldn’t you? since i put your name as my password and all?”

“uh-huh,” you say, distracted as your phone accepts the password combo. “hey, is your bank account password my name too?”

[jellytoru]

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so hot… - yoon jeonghan

wc: 0.6k summary: jeonghan’s new haircut is so attractive that it woke you right out of your sleep! warnings: fluff, jeonghan baby talking reader (i KNOW he would do this nobody can tell me otherwise), the haircut 👅 an: this hair cut has me feeling 1,000 feelings at once

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you’re not even awake right now. you’re completely delirious, to the point where your eyes are barely open, your hands shaking with the feeling of getting up so abruptly, not even getting a chance to get rid of the drool on your cheek. you felt your bedroom lights turn on, and through the one eye you cracked open, all you saw was something different about your boyfriend, and that alone was enough to get you on your feet.

the whine that fell from your lips paired with your disheveled self stumbling across the bedroom definitely caught him off guard with the way his eyes widened, cheeks a little pink as he opened his arms for you.

“hey angel..” he chuckles, smirking at the way you run your hands through his cropped hair, still in your sleep addled daze. “it’s nice, hm?”

you don’t say anything, very overwhelmed in the moment. it was definitely a mistake to get up like that, your head aching a bit and your heart beating out of your chest due to using energy you hadn’t gotten yet. you dip your head into the crook of his neck, pressing your lips to it as a response. he’s so warm, and you don’t know if you’re alive or sleeping against him, but you’re so comfortable that you feel like sleeping standing up.

“you’re still so sleepy, aren’t you, baby?” you don’t even need to see his face to know he’s pouting at you, always having an urge to baby talk you all the time.

you’re so tired that all you can do is whine, bringing yourself a little closer to him. his hands find your waist, rubbing circles that are so soothing he’s really not helping your case. his lips find the top of your head, and you stay like that for a few minutes until you eventually end up actually falling asleep.

it’s only seconds before you wake up again, gentle hands pushing hair out of your face. your eyes open barely a crack, and jeonghan’s looking down at you with the sweetest lovestruck look in his eyes. you open your own a little wider, and then fully upon remembering his new haircut, smiling to yourself at the sight.

“ ‘s so nice, hannie… so hot..” it’s not even on purpose, but your face is so puffy from sleep that you have a natural pout on your lips, and it only makes your boyfriend coo at you even more.

“thank you so much, angel. now why don’t you go lay back down, okay? i’ll join you in a moment, i just need to undress.” he gently leads you back to your shared bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin before turning away.

he sets his glasses on his nightstand before making his way to the closet. on the way he pulls off his sweatshirt, nothing underneath because what’s the point? you’re falling in and out of consciousness as you watch him get undressed, fair skin completely on display and so beautiful that it keeps you tethered to the living world. a quick glance at the time tells you it’s nearly midnight, jeonghan’s “date” with seungcheol going late into the night.

finally, in nothing but a pair of boxers, he flicks the bedroom light off and crawls into bed next to you. pulling you into his chest, you’re able to finally relax and go back to sleep, not without letting him know one last thing.

“i love it, hannie, love you.. your hair.. want you so bad..” you mumble into his chest.

he chuckles, running a hand up and down your hip. “okay, angel. we’ll see about that in the morning,”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ✦　

svt 🏷️ @coquettejunnie

[jellytoru]

⠀𖼥ৎ⠀“biteable!” ₍ y.jh ₎

───── ABOUT you can't help that your boyfriend looks adorable, and... biteable.

⋆ 𝒘𝒄: 1.1k ⋆ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff, est. rs, humour ⋆ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: bf!jeonghan x gn!reader (?) ⋆ 𝒄𝒘: skinship, kissing, petnames, tiny bit suggestive :)

A/N: oh how I love writing for the loml ⑉´ᯅ`⑉ LETS PRETEND I DIDNT JST COME BACK FROM A 1 MONTH BREAK!! | for my beautiful lovie @hanniescookie <3 (I love her sm guys it's unbelievable)

Stepping in your bedroom, you're met with the familiar sight of your boyfriend cuddled up in fluffy blankets and pillows, his hair adorably messy and his eyes shut close. His cheeks were puffed, and his lips appeared soft and pinkish, urging you to peck it.

A small smile bloomed across your face, your heart fluttering as he sighed heavily in his sleep, offering an endearing view for your eyes.

Just a few hours after the sun had risen from behind the clouds, you were on your way to the corner shop to restock the cabinets. Because by the end of the day, you'd be lazing around with no more energy left to go anywhere.

Now, as you've come back home, you can't help but stare lovingly at Jeonghan and feel the cuteness aggression take over you bit by bit.

Just him existing was cute enough, and now he is sleeping so adorably? Hugging the pillow like it's his lifeline? Messy hair and pouty lips?

You think you're insane for this, but you want to bite him. Literally. Bite his cheeks, shoulders and hand. It's his fault for being so… biteable?

So, the next thing you know, you make your way to your shared bed and take a seat beside his sleeping figure with a mischievous glint in your eyes. But you took your time to admire him, observing the slow, yet steady rise and fall of his chest, his peaceful expression as if he was sleeping on top of a pile of delicate feathers.

The longer you stare, the more you find yourself smiling and falling for him.

Finally, you slowly and slightly lift the blanket that was wrapped around him and take his warm hands, careful not to wake him up. You placed his hand on top of your palm, gently caressing his soft skin like it is as fragile as a newly bloomed petal.

Then, your gaze shifted to his face, triggering your cuteness aggression once again. Unable to hold yourself back, you grab his hand and gently bite it, causing the sleepy man to let out a low, groggy yelp.

Jeonghan’s eyes were wide open in seconds as soon as he realised what was (or who was) causing the stinging feeling.

“Baby!” He gasped, yanking his hand away from your reach. You fell forward at the sudden force, letting out a soft giggle, but then bursting a fit of laughter as you looked at his expression—horrified, offended and utterly confused. The more you glanced at him, the more you couldn't control your laugh.

Jeonghan really couldn't understand a single thing, let alone understand why you were straight up biting his hand—but a confused smile still crawled to his lips as he watched you laugh heartily.

“Why are you— are you looking at me like that—” You choked out in between laughs, wrapping your arms around your stomach. He rubbed his eyes, already feeling the drowsiness subside by the cheerful sound of your laughter, earning a chuckle from him too.

“Were you just biting me?” he questioned in disbelief, attempting to sound offended, but his smile gave it all away. You continued wheezing, covering your face that had turned as red as a tomato.

Suddenly, you stopped, staring at Jeonghan with an intense gaze (that told him you were upto… no good.)

He gulped down the lump in his throat, already reaching out for his blanket to protect himself.

“Should I bite you like a zombie?” You suggested, leaning forward with a menacing glint in your eyes.

“Noo!!” Jeonghan shouted, trying to get up from the bed in a hasty manner. But, unlucky for him, you were fast enough to grab his arm and pull him back.

“You're not going anywhere!”

“Please, please, please—” Jeonghan began chanting, shutting his eyes close. (But he made no effort to push you away)

As you hovered above him, you couldn't stop the laugh that escaped your lips. He began yelping in between laughs as you bit his shoulder, then his cheeks.

“Baby, stop!” He whined, his cheeks turning ridiculously red. You finally stopped, leaning away to look at his reaction.

“Oh my god, are your cheeks red!?” you teased, reaching out to pinch his cheeks.

“Because you're biting me!” He defended with a pout and raised eyebrows, rubbing his cheeks to emphasize his point.

You giggled, pushing his hair away from his face, giving you a much clearer view of his beautiful morning face.

“Sorry… but you can't blame me! You're just so— so biteable.” With a pouty smile, you say, causing Jeonghan's ears to perk up.

“Biteable?” He repeated, taken aback. Proudly, you nod with lips pressed into a thin line.

“Then you probably don't mind me saying that you're very, very biteable too!” He grinned, his eyes gleaming with a clear mission and it sent shivers down your spine. Suddenly, he reached out to take your hand.

“...no, n— help!” You yelled, as if someone could get you out of this misery, and pulled yourself away from him. He gently grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you against his chest before he flipped to the other side and hovered above you.

“Hey, you can't use my own technique against me!” You whined, wiggling under his firm grip on your waist.

“No, no, let me check if you're biteable too,” he insisted, a bright grin on his face. You began to laugh, soon followed by his soft chuckles.

“Aaa!!” He leaned closer with his mouth open, and you closed your eyes tightly, turning your head away while laughing. But instead of feeling a bite on your cheek, you felt his soft and warm lips pressed against your skin. His peck lingered for a moment before he pulled away with a “mwah!” and a proud smile.

“See? I'm so nice, you should thank me, love.” He said, his eyes softening when they met yours.

A bright smile touched your lips before you spoke, “I should thank you by becoming a zombie again!”

Jeonghan’s smile faded, and he slowly leaned away from you. But even when you lunged forward, he made no effort to back away.

And that was more than enough to tell you that he secretly enjoyed this alot. He enjoyed having your attention on him and making the most out of your time spent with each other, even if it meant he’d have to suffer through your zombie phase.

© KISSBYOON 2025. All Rights Reserved. @kstrucknet

[jellytoru]

can i get jeonghan + number 6 please? ❤️

jeonghan + fixing their attitude with one look

warnings: fluff, silly jeonghan giving an attitude smh an: sooooo sorry for the wait </333 i hope you read too much and journey mercies during it !!!

jeonghan’s not one to get mad. well.. he gets mad, but never at you. and he most certainly doesn’t get mad at you. however, he came home from one of his hangouts today and hasn’t been able to snap out of it since.

he’s laying in bed with you now, a container of takeout laying in front of you. he had promised to bring it on his way home, and he at least didn’t forget that, but he hasn’t touched it. he hasn’t done much but just sit, actually. of course, you know him, and you’re trying to give him some silence so he can cool down, but even your patience is starting to run thin.

you were only graced by seungkwan’s kindness, who messaged you to mention that he and seungcheol had fought. that explains it, you think, knowing not much else could tick him off to that degree. you know it might even be upsetting, so you reach out to put a hand on his thigh, trying to provide some comfort.

“han? are you going to eat?” you ask, keeping your tone light, trying to prompt him to cheer up.

he doesn’t move, sitting in the same position he has been for the past half hour, eyes focused on one individual thread in the blanket. his lips are in their natural pout, but you have half a mind to believe that he might actually be pouting this time. “i’m not hungry.” he says curtly, sighing. he tips his head up, leaning it against the headboard, letting it roll to the side for him to look at you. “you can.”

“no, i don’t want to eat. not without you.”

he sighs again, deeper, closing his eyes to level himself. “you can put it away then.” he speaks with so much attitude, so much sass that all you do is sit there, mouth hanging open.

his eyebrows are furrowed now, probably realizing his mistake, and when he pops one eye open to see your reaction he immediately sits straight, turning to you fully. “ah, i mean, please baby, go ahead and eat. we’ll eat together, okay? sorry, i was being silly..”

“that’s what i thought…” you mumble, opening all the food containers to finally begin eating. he chuckles nervously, running to get utensils and fulfill your every request.. whatever it takes to avoid your wrath.

1 to 13 🏷️ @markkiatocafe @ateez-atiny380

[jellytoru]

jeonghan + 13 juseyo 🙏

jeonghan + hiding in their partner’s chest when they’re scared

warnings: horror movie, jeonghan is a heavy tease in this an: i love my jeonghan sm… if you do too, pls read his 10th anniversary fic i wrote !!! it’s called too much !!! and read the dk one, journey mercies, while you’re at it 😙

“hannie, why would you pick this movie?” you whine, hugging your knees to your chest.

he laughs, “what, are you scared? i thought you’d like it..”

you turn to him, a cutely (in his opinion) angry expression on his face as you punch him in the shoulder. “no! it’s creepy! i thought when you said, ‘hey baby let’s have a movie night!’ you were gonna get a bunch of yummy snacks and we were gonna watch something funny! i hate this!”

as soon as you’re done speaking the tv screen flashes, a large jumpscare happening, and you can’t even try hiding the flinch that shakes your body, nearly lifting you from your seat on the couch. jeonghan starts cackling, nearly doubled over in amusement at your terror.

he settles down and leans in close, face millimeters away from yours, “if you’re scared, angel, i’m right here. it’s okay, hannie will protect you..” he’s very obviously teasing, voice sing-song. suddenly his attention returns to the movie and he starts smirking, “oh no, baby, watch out, i think something’s about to happen..”

immediately you’re hiding your face in your hands, shrinking into yourself more and more as the suspenseful music fills the room. he’s right, because the sound of screaming comes right after, and you all but fall into him in fear, hiding your face in his shoulder. he laughs, pulling you in and rubbing his hand against your arm.

“aww, see? i told you i’d hold you if you got scared.. now, hm, i think i want to watch something happier…”

now that he’s exited out of the movie, you’re sure that this whole thing was just a ploy to get you in his arms without having to ask or make a move.

1 to 13 🏷️ @markkiatocafe @ateez-atiny380

[jellytoru]

“obsessive romantic lover!” ₍ y.jh ₎

───── ABOUT seeing the love of your life after one month, it was only fair for you to allow yourself to cry again

⋆ 𝒘𝒄: 1.1k ⋆ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff, est. rs, humour, self-indulged ⋆ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: fiancé!jeonghan x f!reader ⋆ 𝒄𝒘: skinship, crying (that's jst me *SIGH* ), petnames (lmk if more!!)

A/N: this is so self indulged because I def did not keep my promise of 'im not gonna cry when there's another update' (⁠╯⁠︵⁠╰⁠,⁠) | @hanniescookie 🤍

The camera in your hands clicked, capturing yet another beautiful sight of your fiancé, Jeonghan.

You lean away, admiring the picture before lifting your gaze to look at him with a satisfied smile. Jeonghan’s head turned to your direction in the slightest way, the desperation to leave this ceremony and run to you noticable in his expression—scrunched nose, droopy eyes and a tired, but disciplined posture.

A soft laugh escaped your lips. As his eyes turned completely to catch a glimpse of you, you took the opportunity to tease him even more.

With a fond, yet teasing smile, you wink flirtatiously. His eyes go wide ever so slightly before he snaps his head to look ahead, his neck and ear turning red as he bites his lower lip to prevent a smile.

You laugh heartily, lifting your camera to capture the lovely sight.

All of a sudden, he is too focused on the senior officer’s speech with his posture straightened. He refused to look at you after that again.

After an hour or two, the ceremony had finally come to an end as everyone began to leave the ground and enter their cabins. Some of them were leaving to meet their visitors. You were requested to wait for Jeonghan on the other side of the ground, and you gladly listened because it was starting to become crowded.

While waiting, you took out your camera and admired each and every photo you have taken of him with a giddy smile.

Damn, you might’ve been a photographer in your past life.

“Oh wow, your fiancé is one of a kind.”

You flinched at the sudden voice behind you, ready to fight the menace who decided it would be a good idea to leave you startled. Only to realise that it was your menace—purposely making his voice deeper to sound like a middle aged man.

Closing your eyes tightly and pressing your lips in a thin line, you take a deep breath. Jeonghan giggled, craning his neck to look at your face, a tender smile on his lips.

You wanted to glare at him with the intention to tease, but the moment your eyes caught his, you paused.

As if your mind had stopped forming your next words, as if your eyes had stolen a glimpse of a rare star—your whole body froze.

For the first time after an entire month, the love of your life was before your eyes, just one touch away. It felt like a dream—to be able to stare and drown in his deep brown eyes again, to be able to have him so close to you again.

Before you could realise, your vision gradually blurred and tears began to roll down your cheeks uncontrollably. You covered your mouth, turning away from him, overwhelmed by your emotions.

“Hey, hey,” His tone shifted to his usual soft, full of affection, and he reached out urgently to turn you to face him. Without a second thought, his arms wrapped around your body in a gentle but protective manner, pulling you against his chest.

“Love, angel, you promised you wouldn't cry,” he whispered, cradling your head with one hand and patting your lower waist with another. Your cries weren't loud, but soft and tinted with yearning and love.

Yes, you did promise him that you wouldn't shed a single tear when you saw him. Yes, you did break it just a few hours ago as you arrived to watch his graduation ceremony. And a million times yes, your love for him runs so deep, so completely, that your heart finds its truest strength not in stoicism, but in vulnerability before him, allowing you to also embrace all of him—his perfections and imperfections.

“You’re gonna make me weep too now,” he playfully teased, hoping to earn a chuckle from you (which he did).

After a few good minutes of embracing his warmth, you gained control over your emotions and leaned back.

“I broke my promise,” you sniff, wiping your tears away. You kept your gaze on the ground, unable to find the courage to look at him again.

“It’s okay. Just look at me, love,” he urged softly, taking a step forward as one of his hands held yours and the other cupped your cheek. “You know I hate to be the reason for your tears.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you lifted your gaze to meet his eyes.

“It’s not that,” you mumbled, trying to cover yourself up from the embarrassment.

“I know it's because this is the first time in a while that you've seen my handsome face again.” Jeonghan grinned at the way your lips twitched to smile.

“Nevermind, I wasted my tears for you.” You pretend to sulk, turning away. He is quick to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, leaving a soft kiss on your neck. You felt goosebumps under his gentle touch, and closed your eyes tightly to stop the tears from flowing again.

“I missed you.” He confessed, a deep sigh leaving his lips as if he had been waiting forever to say that.

“Y’know, I saw you in my dreams everyday and it kinda freaked me out because I thought something was wrong with me,” he added with a smile, earning a giggle from you. “But then I realised it was just because I missed you so much.”

“You sound like an obsessive ex.” You chuckled. But deep down, you absolutely adored how he worded his feelings. You were special to him. Really, really special.

“You mean an obsessive fiancé,” he craned his neck and pecked your cheek.

“I think I'm more obsessive,” you sighed, fidgeting with the engagement ring on his ring finger.

“Hm? That can't be—”

“I hug jjongtoram thinking it's you. I sprayed your cologne on it a little and that kinda freaked me out because I felt like an obsessive stalker,” you giggled, mimicking his earlier words. “But then I realised it's just my heart that misses you so much.”

You didn't have to turn around to know that Jeonghan was smiling, almost shyly.

“That's kinda scary, baby, but it's okay since we're about to get married.” He joked to cover up the way he was blushing by your words, tightening his grip around you.

“Hey! That's romantic.” You defended.

Jeonghan’s gaze dropped to the camera in your hands, and he remembered that you had taken pictures earlier. (99.9% are all his)

“Okay my romantic lover, may you show me the pictures you took earlier please?” He asked playfully, placing both of his hands on top of yours.

“That's not a cool way to call your future wife,” you argued, pouting. He tilted his head, confused.

“Why not? Isn't it cute?”

“I prefer ‘my obsessive romantic lover' more.” You declare proudly, causing Jeonghan to break into laughter.

Obviously, it became your default pet name whenever you’d do something that made him blush. He has to find a way out of getting teased for being so down bad, right?

© KISSBYOON 2025. all rights reserved.

[jellytoru]

adore you - yjh

—⁠☆ you meet your boyfriend after three weeks.

pairing - jeonghan x f!reader

genre/warnings - idol au, fluff, romance, military jeonghan cus i'm obsessed, kissing, use of petnames, reunion after three weeks of separation lololol, self aware king jeonghan, lil bit of yearning ¿

wc - 898

A/N - i adore hannie in a uniform, i adore his entire existence if y'all don't know already. of course i had to write something about today!! i love him so much, he heals me everyday (⁠･ั⁠ω⁠･ั⁠)

A pair of warm, familiar hands shield your eyes from behind and all the restlessness that had accumulated in your body releases at once.

You don't gasp, don't flinch. Your mouth exhales a sigh of contentment, and your lips curl up in what your boyfriend calls a sulky smile. Your hands curl around the bouquet of flowers you've been holding as you lean back against the body behind you, practically letting go of your own weight.

“Hannie.” You mutter, and hear a giggle right next to your ear. It makes you smile harder, your heart dancing in excitement.

“You got me, angel.” He says, dropping his hands to hold you steady by your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. One of his hands rounds you to touch the flowers you've brought, and you can feel him smiling beside your face. “Flowers? For me? Or do you have any other trainees to meet here?”

You click your tongue, unable to help the giddiness in your stomach. Hearing his voice, feeling his warmth, having him near you—it’s all a little overwhelming after a grand total of three weeks. However, you keep your tears hidden in fear of being teased by him.

“I'm only here for my boyfriend.” You say, staring at his hand that's caressing the flower petals. You wish to hold it, but somehow, you're a little too occupied with how peaceful you feel in his hold. Watching his ceremony from afar put you at ease already, healing something inside you that you didn't even know had broken since he left. But it also made you restless, not being able to wait till you could see him, hold him, kiss him.

However, now that he's here, you feel like all common sense has fled out of your body, You can only lean against him, let him hold you, and feel him.

“Really, now?” Jeonghan speaks in a low voice, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “The boyfriend you won't even look at?”

You shut your eyes, letting your smile widen. Your hand is trembling a little as you reach out and keep it above his large one. Somehow, it looks even bigger than the last time you'd held it.

“I missed my boyfriend a lot.” You utter, bringing his hand up and kissing it. “God forbid a girl is scared to look at the said boyfriend.”

You hear Jeonghan laugh, his neck craning to try and look at your face. “Hey, why would you be scared?”

You shut your eyes, shifting the bouquet to one hand and lifting the other to move his face away. “Don't look at me. I don't wanna cry.”

Jeonghan coos at you, holding you tighter with both his arms and pressing a chaste kiss in the crook of your neck. “It's okay, angel. You can cry if you want to. But at least look at me?”

You pout, your eyes instantly welling up with tears as you shake your head, quickly turning in his hold. The moment your eyes meet his, you shut them tight, taking a deep breath and then opening them again to see his smiling face.

God, it's unfair how beautiful he is.

Surprisingly, despite the tears of overwhlem in your eyes, you mirror his gorgeous smile.

“I missed you too,” he says against your forehead, softly pressing a kiss against your skin. “So much. I might cry too.”

You've known Jeonghan enough to tell that he's missed you, but he's only saying this so you don't feel stupid about crying. That alone makes you shed a tear as you tiptoe and wrap your arms tightly around his neck. As part of his muscle memory, he hugs you back, stuffing his head in your shoulder. His hand cradles your head, softly threading your hair every second. “You're not even crying.”

“I thought you hated to see me cry,” you sniff, pressing yourself more against him to feel his warmth as much as you can. He chuckles, kissing your shoulder blade. “Not when you're crying because you nearly died from missing me.”

You pull back, frowning and hitting him with a fist. “Stop being like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like the world revolves around you.”

“Yours does.”

You open your mouth to argue, but any words of retaliation die down on your tongue. How are you supposed to deny that? All your three weeks worth of sadness have washed away just with one glimpse of him. Your world indeed revolves around him.

He giggles, taking the flower bouquet from you and handing you a photograph instead. You furrow your brows, staring down at your hand to see a picture of you that he had taken out from his pocket.

He places a gentle kiss on your lips, holding your chin between his thumb and index finger, before smiling softly. “My world revolves around you too, angel.”

The surge of emotions that course through your body is insane, and you instantly smile, holding his face between your palms and pecking him. “I adore you, hannie.”

He smiles, rubbing his nose against yours. “Mhm, I know. I adore you too, angel.”

And you know, no matter how many wounds cut through you, you'll always heal as long as Jeonghan is beside you. No matter how many weeks you spend apart from him, your comfort will find you in his form, always.

[jellytoru]

Mom and Dad

Pairing- Luke Castellan x AFAB!GN!Reader

Warnings- Baby fever, talk of daddy issues, kissing

Crafting with Luke always proved to be a bit… difficult, especially since he always somehow convinced you to let a slew of younger campers to help you. Today was another one of those days. He sat beside you on the floor of the Hermes cabin, a Lego flower kit spread out, and a group of kids surrounding the two of you.

"Luke! Luke! I finished one of the petals!" A young son of Hermes calls, and with all the excitement in the world, Luke smiles and takes it.

"Great job dude!" Luke responded, making you smile softly from where you sat, perched on his bed behind where he sat on the floor.

"Dad- er- um- Luke! What do I do next?" Another kid chirps up, and Luke's heart swelled. Being called dad did something for Luke, it made him feel worth something, it made him feel like he wouldn't repeat the same mistakes his own father made.

As Luke and the younger boys continued building, a small Aphrodite girl from your own cabin crawled up on to Luke's bunk beside you.

"I'm bored!" She loudly complained to you, a pout on her little face.

"Here, um, why don't you let me do your hair?" You ask, finding a couple loose hair ties you'd left in Luke's bed, and a couple butterfly clips left on his dresser.

"Can you put it in braids?" She asks somewhat shyly, settling herself in your lap after you nod in confirmation. You begin to braid the girls soft hair, listening to the chatter from Luke and the rest of the boys. The two of you had always been the mom and dad of camp, it just made sense for the two of you to be so utterly and completely in love with one another. Soon enough, the little girls hair was done, and Luke turned around to see the two of you.

"Baby?" Luke questioned out of the blue, placing a hand on your thigh. "Can we have a kid? Please?" Luke pleaded, puppy dog eyes on full display.

"Honey, we're 19, we can't have a baby right now." You explain with a laugh, watching his face fall a bit.

"Well, can we keep one of these ones? Please baby?" Luke pleads as you ruffle his hair.

"Calm down with the baby fever, baby, they've all got their own parents, we can have kids of our own later, I promise." You reassure, sealing the deal with a kiss to his forehead.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

[jellytoru]

okay but the pjo/hoo boys’ fav positions when??

❝ Favorite Positions ! ❞ ― pjo/hoo boys !

— 💬 a/n: I'm biased 🤘🏻 here's my version, though i know there are already too many headcanons about this

— 𝒫ercy 𝒥ackson ;; He’s not picking a position. He’s doing whatever you want and pretending it was his idea. That being said—missionary with your legs wrapped around him is where he ends up every time. It’s easy, it’s close, and it’s got that chaos-percy energy of “oh shit, this is happening” mixed with clingy desperation. He’s not trying to dominate you—he’s just trying to feel everything. You squeeze your legs a little tighter and he short-circuits.

rating: 9.5/10 — not creative, but he’s percy, y'know

— 𝒥ason 𝒢race ;; Cowgirl. Like, he’s a control freak in life but not in bed. There’s something about you on top—him flat on his back, hands twitching at your hips, trying not to lose it—that wrecks him in a good way. Tries to keep composure, but forgets how to speak the second you grind down slow. Has no idea where to put his hands. Hates how much he loves it + flushed cheeks and glasses barely in place *giggles*

rating: 8.5/10 — he’s a sweetheart

— ℒeo 𝒱aldez ;; Doggy, because his brain is too hyper to do anything slow or face-to-face for too long. Gets distracted easily unless he’s overstimulated, and this one keeps him focused and gives him access to your back, which he’s weirdly obsessed with. Also loves that he doesn’t have to do eye contact until he’s composed enough not to combust.

rating: 9/10 — fast, chaotic but kind of sexy

— ℱrank 𝒵hang ;; Spooning. It’s the safest combo of intimacy + instinctual movement. He overthinks everything and doesn’t wanna crush you with his body weight or make it too intense, so this one feels natural. Quiet grunts, forehead against your shoulder, hands everywhere but respectfully. The kind of sex that ends with both of you just sighing.

rating: 7.5/10 — gentle, sweet, and tragically underrated

— ℒuke 𝒞astellan ;; Standing up, against a wall—but hear me out, not in a “dark sexy villain” way. More like “I have 3 minutes before I mentally spiral again.” He’s high-key touch-starved and low-key reckless, so anything spontaneous and fast, with zero emotional fallout, is perfect. It’s not about power, it’s about not thinking too hard. Ends up panting into your neck

rating: 9.8/10 — he makes it cool

STORMY: stormy's asks games open !

masterlist. here reqs info. here

[jellytoru]

──── the graysons' dilemma...

❤︎──── pairing: dick grayson x wife! reader.

❤︎──── summary: ❛❛a wayne gala is already a huge spectacle on it's own. add three tiny kids to the mix, and it's a full-blown circus.❞

WARNINGS. pure fluffy and bad humor. big family themes. pre-established relationship. minors can interact. dick's kids are very chaotic. batfamily is always around. ©velvet-milk.

❤︎──── "I don't like that, mommy," your oldest son whined, tugging at the tie you'd just spent five whole minutes perfecting. He made a valiant effort to wriggle free, puffing his cheeks out in protest and flashing you the most tragically adorable puppy eyes known to mankind. Pretty blue eyes, Dick’s blue eyes, framed by a mess of unruly black hair. Even the faint hint of a future jawline was all his father.

Little traitor. Spent nine months in your womb just to look nothing like you. You sighed and looked down at him, your posture only made taller by the pair of glossy black scarpins Dick had surprised you with last week.

"Sweetheart," you said patiently, smoothing a wrinkle from his little dress shirt, "you're the most handsome kid in the room, and that tie is staying on until we leave the gala. After that, you can pretend it never existed."

"But it’s choking me," he groaned dramatically, slumping against your legs like a tragic Shakespearean lead.

From across the room, Dick chuckled. "You're not being strangled, buddy. Believe me, I'd know."

"Not helping," you called over your shoulder as you bent to adjust your son’s collar, shooting your husband a look. Dick leaned against the doorframe, already dressed to kill in a perfectly tailored navy tux. The tie was slightly loose, but his hair was slicked back neatly and the cufflinks were from Bruce’s private stash. He looked like the cover of a magazine, and he knew it.

That’s how you ended up with three kids in four years of marriage. What can you say? Your man is just too damn hot.

"Okay, but look,—" Dick pushed off the frame and walked over to kneel beside your son, who immediately flopped dramatically into his arms. "I wore way worse stuff when I was your age. You're getting off easy."

Your son looked up at him, unconvinced. "You used to wear green short shorts."

Dick blinked. "Who told you that?"

"Uncle Jason."

You snorted, failing to hide your laugh behind your hand.

"Okay, I deserved that," Dick admitted, giving you a playful glare. "And who let them near Jason unsupervised?"

Before you could point out that Jason was basically their official, very underpaid, nanny, your daughter came sprinting down the hallway in a blur of tulle and sparkles, shouting something about needing a different tiara. She looked more like you, though the blue eyes and messy black hair were clearly dominant traits in the Grayson gene pool.

Dick stood with a groan. "We have created chaos."

Just then, she came skidding into the room, breathless. "Mom! Dad! He—" she pointed an accusatory finger at her brother, he rolled his eyes at her "—said I can't be a princess and a superhero at the same time."

Dick lifted an eyebrow. "I don't see why not. You live with two people who do it every day."

You gave her a high five as you passed her the new tiara. "Tell him to update his references."

Behind you, the baby let out a small squeak from the bassinet, clearly unimpressed with all the fuss. She was using a cute little dress Barbara picked up for her. Dick leaned in close, wrapping an arm around your waist as you looked over the room. One child stomping away in protest, another proudly wearing two mismatched shoes and a tiara, and a third blowing spit bubbles like the world’s tiniest critic.

"You know," he said quietly, kissing your temple, "I'd rather be here in this circus than anywhere else in the world."

Before you could answer, the circus kicked into high gear again.

"I'm telling you," your son declared, "Superman could bench press the whole planet."

Your daughter crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Wonder Woman literally fought gods. And she doesn't need a cape to look cool."

He scoffed. "She doesn't have heat vision."

"She doesn't need it. She has taste."

Without warning, she launched one of her sparkly flats at him. Dick snatched it out of the air one-handed, barely looking up. "Okay, no aerial footwear at the gala."

You raised an eyebrow. "That a new rule?"

He shrugged. "It is now."

Once everyone was dressed and ready, the Graysons were already mingling with the rest of Gotham’s elite at the gala. Everything was going almost smoothly, until something peculiar began to stir. A familiar storm was brewing in the ballroom, and every guest could feel the shift in the air. Especially Bruce, who glanced up at the ceiling with the deep, exhausted sigh of a man who had seen this movie far too many times before.

"Is that—?"

"Yup," Barbara confirmed, adjusting the baby in her arms. "It's happening again."

High above the glittering guests, your oldest son had somehow, somehow, climbed into one of the chandeliers. Legs wrapped around the ornate gold fixture, he swung gently back and forth, belting out a very off-key but passionately heartfelt rendition of Chandelier by Sia.

"I'm gonna swiiiiiing from the chandelieeeeer!"

You froze mid-sip of champagne. "Richard Grayson Junior."

Dick, next to you, was choking on a canapé. "Oh my god, it’s happening."

Bruce turned, his voice low and dry. "Just like his father."

"Nope," you said, calmly handing your glass to Alfred. "Nope, not on my watch."

Tim, laughing way too hard, dipped your daughter like a pro on the dance floor, both of them in full performance mode. She wore her sparkly pink dress, the new tiara crooked on her curls, and she was clearly trying to outshine the entire room. And Uncle Tim was feeding into it, twirling her, showing her how to dip, bowing with theatrical flair every time she giggled.

"I taught her that," Dick said proudly.

"You taught her how to fake-dip people," you corrected. Your baby was being casually passed between Steph and Babs like a hot potato behind you and your husband.

"She’s so tiny," Steph whispered, rocking her gently and making goofy faces. "What if I break her?"

"You literally brawl with metahumans twice your size," Babs said, taking the baby back like it was nothing. "You've thrown me through a window."

"Yeah but she has dimples, Barbara."

The baby blinked up at her and sneezed. Stephanie made a sound that could only be described as feral cooing. Meanwhile, you and Dick made your way underneath the chandelier, trying not to panic in front of Gotham’s wealthiest donors and politicos.

"Sweetheart," you called up sweetly, through gritted teeth. "You are going to give your mom a heart attack."

"I'm not coming down 'til I finish the song!" your son yelled.

"He gets that from you," Dick whispered.

"You're the one who used to backflip off those exact chandeliers, Dick," you snapped. "This is karma."

"I only backflipped once. Okay, maybe twice."

You were about to argue when your son swung too far and screamed, happily, as he made a safe landing on the buffet table, knocking over exactly seventeen shrimp cocktails and a pyramid of profiteroles.

The room gasped. You visibly aged thirty years from the stress. Dick blinked. "That was actually kind of impressive."

You closed your eyes. "We’re never getting invited back."

"Nope," he agreed, already wiping off his son's blazer with a cloth napkin. "But hey, at least he stuck the landing."

Just then, your daughter ran over, out of breath and glowing. "Mom! Dad! Uncle Tim taught me how to waltz, and I only stepped on his foot three times!"

Behind her, Tim gave you a dramatic thumbs-up from the dance floor while limping slightly. From somewhere behind you, your baby girl let out a joyful squeal. Steph shouted, "DICK, SHE JUST SPIT ON A WAYNE FOUNDATION DONOR—IS THAT BAD?!"

You sighed deeply, grabbed Dick’s hand, and raised your glass.

"To surviving another gala," you said.

Dick clinked his glass against yours. "Barely, babe".

[jellytoru]

“just one bite.”

“one will turn into more than one.”

you blow a raspberry, dramatically dropping your face onto percy’s bicep. “how can I persuade you?”

“you can pull my pants down and—”

“stop right there.” you lift your head quickly. “I won’t bite you hard. just let me nibble.”

“pinky promise.”

you smile as percy lifts his pinky finger to you. you’re quick to intertwine yours with his, latching them together tightly to assure your promise.

you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek twice. once for fun and once for luck. then you take his arm into your hands and begin to nibble on his bicep.

how tasty his skin his upon your tongue. and how orgasmic it feels as he flexes into your mouth. you love every second of it.

you bite down gently with your teeth, not too hard to draw blood but hard enough to soak your panties. you begin to rub your thighs together subconsciously to accommodate the sensation between them.

“perce,” you murmur.

one of his hands finds your knees, running his thumb smoothly over it. he’s always had a knack for touching you at all times. “my sweetest girl.”

you giggle and unattach your mouth from his bicep. “I love you.”

percy smiles at your behavior and pecks you on the lips. “I love you too, sweet girl.”

you kiss his mouth again. and again and again and once more for good luck again. “now, what were you were saying about me pulling down your pants…?”

— a lil something silly ♡

[jellytoru]

sunscreen - steve harrington

summary: you and steve share a tender moment before facing hawkin's chaos, barely disturbed by the annoying teenagers and adults around you

Steve grumbled silently, but didn’t move his face from the firm yet soft grip you had on him. Nancy, Eddie and Robin were all waiting in the curly haired boy’s van, yelling teasing words as you glided the sunscreen stick over your boyfriend’s face. Steve pouted lightly, eyelashes fluttering as you ran the stick up his face, closer to his eyes.

You pulled the stick off Steve’s face, putting the lid on it as Steve turned around, ready to rush into the van. “We’re not done, Harrington.” Steve’s cheeks flushed a light pink as he did the walk of shame back to you, more teasing comments coming from your friends in Eddie's white van.

From the other side of you, the teenagers squished into your car yelled in annoyance at the time you were spending taking care of your boyfriend. You patted your clean fingers on Steve’s face, making sure the sunscreen reached all areas of his face.

“Okay.” You announced, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss onto Steve’s lips. He grinned, a hand cupping your cheek to bring you back into the kiss for a couple of more seconds, before pulling away, a cheeky grin on his face. You kept your eyes trained on your boyfriend as Steve trotted towards the van, getting into the back seat with Robin.

“Do we not get the same treatment!?” Eddie called out from the driver’s seat, leaning over Nancy to yell out of the open window as you hurried over to the driver’s seat of your car.

You heard Eddie’s whine of pain as Steve punched him in the shoulder at his words. Turning on the engine of the car, you threw a separate bottle of sunscreen to the back seat, where Mike, Lucas, Will and Dustin were smushed. Max laughed at the sounds of their struggle from where she sat next to you in the front seat.

“Put some on, the last thing you need is a sunburn.” You instructed, pulling out of the drive way. “Are they doing it max?” You asked the girl, glancing back at the four boys who were practically sitting in each other’s laps.

“Yeah.” She confirmed, grinning widely at their now pale faces. “Not Lucas though.”

“I can’t get sunburnt!”

“Lucas, you very much can get sunburnt!”

“Fine, mom!”

“Now your turn, Max, you’re a ginger.”

“HEY!”

[jellytoru]

Dick likes necks I read

Does he like caressing his partner’s neck? Feeling their pulse, the warmth, the softness, how delicate and sensitive it is 👀 something tells me he’d just love burying his face in their neck, for comfort, and other times he likes giving kisses there, taking note of his s/o’s reaction and leave love bites

me thinks yes.

definitely the type to lay in bed, running his fingertips along their neck, just.. yaknow, existing. quiet. probably make some soft, half romantic, half cheesy ass comment because he's just so in love it hurts and to have a moment of peace and quiet to be so gentle——

he most definitely leaves a little mark right off to the side of the throat column. nothing major — not when he knows things will be busy, but he isn't shy to leave more if asked of him. but he's also the type to leave marks on hips, over ribs, back of your shoulders, etc. but that's a conversation for another day.

would love to have his face against their neck, just trying to ignore the world for a little while, feeling their pulse, breathing them in. i have a whole thing about all of them liking the ability to feel their lover's pulse/hear their heartbeat. but, considering the actual weight of dick's character, that would inevitably be his safe space.

[jellytoru]

“Freak like me…,”

Batboys x reader headcannons

sorry yall😔i keep disappearing,i have like major writing block and my husband and i are going to renew our vows.We got married at 16(I DONT RECOMMEND) and we have been dating since we were 12, i turn 20 this year😭😭😭

ANYWAYS LEAVE REQUESTS💛

BRUCE WAYNE

🏛 Favorite Place:

-His master bedroom — but specifically the bed with fresh sheets and dim lighting. He’s private and a control freak, and intimacy is something he treasures deeply.

-However… he’s absolutely taken you in the Batcave. Against the Batmobile. Once. Maybe twice. But he’ll never admit it.

⏱ Quickies?

-Not his favorite. Bruce prefers drawn-out, sensual, controlled sessions.

-That said, if it’s been a rough mission or he’s overwhelmed, he will pull you into a dark hallway, growl in your ear, and lose his mind for 5 minutes.

-“This isn’t enough—but I need you right now.”

⸻

Dick Grayson

Favorite Place:

- Rooftops. Balconies. Anywhere high up with a view of the city lights. There’s something about the rush, the stars, and you.

-Also? Showers. He loves the intimacy of washing each other, and then not staying clean for long.

⏱ Quickies?

-100% yes. He loves them. Elevators, bathrooms, pulled-into-a-closet vibes.

-He’ll whisper something filthy in your ear during a gala and have you against the wall five minutes later.

- Very into spontaneous affection. “Hey, you looked too good. I had to.”

⸻

Jason Todd

Favorite Place:

-His apartment — couch, kitchen counter, bed, wall. But more than anything, his safe space is wherever you feel safe.

-Has a real soft spot for post-mission sex in the shower or while still half-dressed. There’s something healing about it.

⏱ Quickies?

-Loves them when they’re emotionally charged. Not a fan of purely mechanical quickies — he wants a reason.

-Angry? Stressed? Jealous? Then yes, he’ll have you bent over in a parking garage before you can say “Red Hood.”

-He’s rougher during those moments, but always with aftercare. “That was fast. But you still okay, baby?”

⸻

Tim Drake

Favorite Place:

-His office chair. That boy works too damn much, and nothing clears his head like you straddling him mid-research.

-Bonus: the Wayne Tower penthouse library. Something about the shelves, the silence, and you on the table just does it for him.

⏱ Quickies?

-He likes the idea of quickies more than he actually enjoys them. They usually stress him out unless he’s really in the moment.

-f it’s an early-morning before-you-leave-for-work kind of thing? He’s all in.

-But mostly he’s a slow burn kind of guy. Think intense eye contact, slow hands, whispered “God, you’re beautiful.”

⸻

Damian Wayne

Favorite Place:

-His room, with the doors locked and the drapes drawn. Damian is private, intense, and not one for public displays.

⏱ Quickies?

-Not a fan. He hates the rushed feeling — he wants full focus, precision, and control.

-But if you challenge him, tease him, or catch him off-guard? He might grit his teeth, grab your wrist, and make it happen fast, rough, and possessive.

-Afterward, though? “Next time, we do this properly. You deserve more than just that.”

[jellytoru]

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐍 ˚. ᵎᵎ your first time with THE BATBOYS .ᐟ 𓂃 ꒰ headcanons ꒱

contains ﾉ dirty talk · cunnilingus · fingering · loss of virginity · protected & unprotected sex MDNI 18+ pairings ﾉ bruce wayne・jason todd・dick grayson・ tim drake・aged up! damian wayne x fem!reader

note ꒱ english is not my first language, ignore the mistakes lol… but i put my whole p*ssy into this. enjoy xo

‣ bruce wayne

his tie hangs limp behind his shoulder, shirt open halfway down his chest, sleeves cuffed at the forearms. the fabric clings, translucent with sweat as bruce wayne kneels between your thighs. you lie bare on the pillows; nipples raised from the chill and nerves, unsure where to look. he hasn’t touched you yet, and you’re already undone.

a few seconds of rustling leather and metal—his armani belt clicks undone. his cock presses against the inside of his boxers, engorged and leaking at the tip. when his gaze roves over you, it flickers to the microexpressions you haven’t yet mastered to conceal. his hand settles between your thighs, sliding one outward.

“keep them open,” bruce commands softly, palm gliding down your ribs, across your abdomen, until it rests above your mound. “tell me if you want me to stop.” a somewhat performative question under this timing—his cockhead is already nudging between your folds.

the first stretch sharpens beyond expectation: dense pressure blooming into fire along your nerves. you clutch his arms, biting your lower lip. he stills, allowing you a few seconds to adjust before moving forward another inch. your cunt throbs around the intrusion, wet but still tight, not used to being filled this way. his breathing is deep and measured, as if he’s trying to stay in control.

“breathe,” bruce murmurs, thumb catching your lip and gently forcing your teeth to release it. distracted, you comply. with one measured push, he sinks fully inside. your walls clench, barely accommodating. muscular forearms cage your head. stillness holds between you.

then he begins to move.

deep, gliding thrusts, pelvis rocking against yours, muffled slaps marking the rhythm. behind closed lids, white sparks bloom like fireworks. his hand slips beneath your thigh, hooks it high over his hip. a hard thrust knocks an unbidden moan from your lips, and bruce dips his head down, lips grazing against your temple before kissing your collarbone, a juxtaposition to the relentless pace of his hips.

“mhm, good girl. you’re doing so well.”

the praise makes you clench again. he groans, the sound deep and strangled, and fucks you in earnest, on a quest to his own release. a powerful tremor ripples through you, fingers clawing at his shirt as your senses narrow to the slick friction and his heavy breathing above. stomach clenching, walls squeezing around him, you fall apart with a sharp cry, wholly and completely undone. a few more thrusts, and bruce follows you to climax, burying himself deep to the hilt. his weight sinks into the mattress gradually—though his arms remain firm so not as to crush you. the room stills. he stays inside you, until your muscles stop trembling. you can feel the flutter of his heart beating against your chest.

‣ jason todd

you’re on your back, legs parted awkwardly, body still twitching spasmodically from the delicious, thick stretch of his fingers. sweat pools in the hollow of your clavicle. your skin’s tacky. overstimulated. jason todd kneels between your thighs, one palm splayed flat on your abdomen.

his mouth glistens, wet from you. so are his fingers.

“you good?” his breath is still ragged from the way he had you mere minutes ago—tongue buried deep, your legs hooked over his broad shoulders, the sound of your moans echoing off the walls.

you nod. or at least, you think you do. because right now, your eyes keep flicking to his cock—thick and girthy, flushed a ruddy pink at the tip, kissing his sculpted abdomen. intimidating doesn’t begin to cover it. you try not to stare. fail spectacularly. jason catches your gaze and dips his face down, level to yours.

“we stop whenever,” he presses a tender kiss on the corner of your mouth. “just say the word.”

you glance down again—at the size of him, the stretch you haven’t felt yet—and it dawns on you that you have no fucking idea how that’s going to fit. but you want to find out.

your fingers curl tight around his wrist.

“i want to, jay.”

he leans forward, and you feel the blunt head of him presses between your folds. you inhale sharply. he pushes, slowly, and the burn is immediate. the first inch makes your whole body jolt, there’s simply too much of him—your body stretches around his girth with painful resistance—it’s too much.

he’s barely inside.

“you gotta relax, baby. it’s okay.”

you nod, forcing your muscles to loosen. your body fights it anyway, not ready for how much of him there is. jason draws out a fraction, then eases in again, incremental. the ache sharpens. your voice cracks when you say,

“too much?”

“mghm—no. k-keep going.”

“brave girl,”

smirking, jason kisses your cheek, then fucks in the rest of the way. the glorious stretch has your vision going white at the edges. he’s everywhere. you can feel every ridge and vein, splitting you in half. his palm slides under your thigh, lifts it higher for leverage. he stays still for a beat, forehead pressed to your collarbone, breathing heavy. your whole body pulses around him.

“i’ll go slow,” he promises. and he does. he slips in deeper, excruciatingly slow. sweat’s already beading at his temple. every time he pushes in, you feel yourself open wider, body forced to accommodate. you bite into his shoulder to stifle the noise that tears out of you when he finally bottoms out. he stays like this for a few seconds, relishing in your warmth, and you swear you can feel the tip of him in your stomach (albeit the logical part of you know that’s impossible.)

“you okay?”

you nod again. he grits his teeth and rears back his hips, then sinks forward again—testing how much you can take. the second thrust feels worse but simultaneously better. your cunt swallows him like it’s been waiting for him. the stretch is total, merciless, but it’s starting to slide easier now. you let him guide your legs higher. let him press his forehead to your collarbone and fuck into you with slow, controlled force.

one hand moves between your legs and rubs your clit in tight, repetitive circles. you whimper, hips starting to jerk up to meet his.

“there she is,” jason breathes. “attagirl.”

you come hard—walls pulsing around him, toes curling, fingers scrabbling at his back. a string of curses fall past his lips, and he’s pulling out. wrapping his fist around the base before spilling hot ropes of come across your stomach. his cock twitches in residual spams as he trembles through it. a few seconds pass. then his forehead drops to yours, and you feel his smile against your cheek.

‣ dick grayson

“we can stop, you know,” he murmurs, thumbs brushing the edges of your jaw. “i still want you. that doesn’t change anything.”

your lips part, but no words come. it is a big deal. not because the “you’re-probably-about-to-lose-your-virginity” part—but because it’s with him. dick. his hair is rumpled from your hands, the rosy flush dusting across his cheekbones still fresh. he’s looking at you without the faintest trace of disappointment. he’s looking at you like he’d wait forever. you know he would.

he cradles your chin in his hand and kisses you—languid, almost chastely. fingers drift down to your throat, brushing along the curve beneath your breasts. your skin sparks under his touch, every nerve recalling how his mouth had latched around your nipple, how that tongue had worked you into a trembling mess mere minutes earlier.

“tell me what you want,” he mumbles, voice thick against your lips.

“i… i want you inside,” you say, breathless.

“then we’ll go slow,” he promises, nudging your nose with his. “you’ll tell me what feels good. and we’ll stop the second you say so. okay?”

you nod. his hand hooks beneath your the crook of your knee, lifting you effortlessly, positioning you astride him. your bare chest against the warm press of his, your slick core on the firm muscle of his thigh. emboldened, you rock against him, and he sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“fuck,” he whispers. “you sure?”

“m’ sure.”

in one smooth motion, he rolls you beneath him, setting you gently against the mattress. his body settles between your thighs, cock flushed and heavy against your skin. he braces one forearm beside your head, presses a kiss to your temple. his hair’s mussed from your fingers, a flush running high on his cheekbones.

he looks so unfairly pretty. you think, as he grabs the base of his cock and rubs it through your slick folds. then he lines himself up and pushes in, inch by excruciating inch. slow enough to feel every maddening stretch of him. the blunt pressure stings—dense, burning in the most exquisite way. you tense beneath him, nails digging pink crescents into his biceps.

“you’re doing so good, but remember to breathe for me, baby,” he coos. “almost there.”

your eyes flutter. the burn intensifies. oh god he’s not even all the way in.

“mghmm.” your nails sink into his biceps. he grunts, forehead tipping against your shoulder.

“fuck—sorry. too much?”

“no. keep going.”

he hums in response, then starts peppering kisses to your collarbone, then underside of your throat. the stretch still burns, but he makes it pale in comparison to pleasure. he rocks into you again, testing. the wet, squelching sounds between your bodies grow increasingly lewd as your walls slowly adjust, contracting around him. you let out a breathy moan. he pauses—one hand cradling your jaw, the other bracing beside your head.

“is this okay?”

“yes—god, yes.”

he nods back, pressing a kiss to your breast before reaching down. his agile fingers find your clit and begin to circle. slow, patient, maddening. the dull ache sharpens into pleasure.

“that’s it,” his voice comes out muffled, sending vibrations through you. “you’re taking me so well.” lips close around your nipple, sucking hard.

you’re so, so close. he knows it too.

“dick—”

“i know. i’ve got you.”

your climax comes in an earth-shattering rush: coiling and snapping in your gut. you arch under him with a cry, muscles spasming around him. he groans into your shoulder, thrusts turning increasingly sloppy.

he doesn’t last much longer.

his entire body seizes—cock twitching deep inside you as he spills, breath held in a shudder. he presses his forehead to yours. both of you are sticky with sweat, chests heaving.

“still okay?” his hand strokes the side of your cheek as he stares at you in starry-eyed adoration.

“yeah,” you whisper. “more than.”

he grins, looking pleased with himself.

‣ tim drake

you lie beneath him, bare but tucked under the edge of the duvet, your legs spread and under the cotton. tim is still half-dressed—shirt rucked up his ribs, boxers pushed low, the weight of his cock resting hot against your hip. he hovers above you, arms braced on either side of your head, the crease between his brows betraying focus. not nerves. calibration.

you’d asked him to fuck you. he’d paused, repeated the question, asked if you were sure—then kissed you until your lips ached and your body melted, his fingers moving with unnerving precision between your legs. he’d made you come once already, two fingers sunken knuckles deep, thumb circling your clit in calculated spirals until your thighs shook and your spine arched from the mattress. he worked your body as if he’s read the manual, and has annotated it.

tim drake is always five layers ahead of you.

he studies your face now, your breathing patterns, the residual tremble in your thighs. “do you want me to go slow,” he asks, quietly, “or do you want me to distract you?”

your brows pull together. “what’s the difference?”

“think about the first one as pain management,” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth twitching, “the other’s about cognitive misdirection.”

heat floods your cheeks. you chew the inside of your cheek thoughtfully.

“distract me.”

he nods and retrieves the condom from the drawer without looking. tears it open. rolls it on carefully. then he moves closer, knees nudging yours wider. you feel him line up, the blunt heat of his cockhead parting your folds.

“deep breath,” he says. “it’s going to sting a bit.”

you inhale. on the exhale, he starts to push in.

the stretch is immediate. your body clenches down, instinctive resistance. pain flares—burning pressure around the unfamiliar girth. you dig your heels into the mattress, fingers tightening in the bedsheets.

“fuck,” tim hisses through clenched teeth. “you’re—you’re tight.” his hands slide to your hips, thumbs pressing gently into the crease between pelvis and thigh. he doesn’t push any further.

“doing okay?” he asks, the edge of strain buried beneath concern. you nod, barely. he bends forward, presses his mouth to your temple, then kisses your throat. one hand curves under your knee, lifting your leg higher to angle you better.

“let me take care of the rest,” he says. and he sinks the rest of the way in with a deep exhale, jaw rigid as he bottoms out. his hips still flush against yours, the length of him buried to the hilt. your cunt clenches involuntarily, adjusting around the dense, aching fullness.

he doesn’t move.

“do you want me to start?”

you nod, feverish with anticipation. he leans forward, presses a kiss to your cheekbone, and begins to thrust. the rhythm is measured at first—calculated, even. he’s a analysing your reactions: cataloging how your thighs tighten when he presses deeper, the minute twitches of your mouth when he hits a sensitive spot. finding out the most efficient way to keep your discomfort at a minimum and pleasure at maximum. he adjusts the angle of your hips by half an inch and earns a startled moan in response.

his focus never breaks.

hands cradle your waist, steadying you as he moves—slow, relentless strokes that grind against your cervix with enough force to border on unbearable. the heat in your gut coils tighter. your fingers curl into his biceps, leaving half-moon indents into the skin. he hums, low in his throat, more of an pleasure than a sound of pain.

“you’re taking me so well,” tim murmurs, voice hoarse now. you don’t mean to come then—it ambushes you, heat snapping low in your belly, muscles clenching down in helpless spasms. the cry that tears out of you is sharp, guttural.

his thrusts stutter. he curses under his breath, grips your hip tighter, drives in with less gentleness and more purpose, chasing his own. when he comes, it’s with a soft groan into your throat, his cock pulsing deep inside you, body trembling with restraint even as he spills into the condom. he stays like that—doesn’t collapse, doesn’t roll off immediately. he steadies his breath, forehead pressed to yours.

‣ damian al ghul (aged up)

he undresses without spectacle.

there’s a certain… economy to his movements; efficiency without theatrics. the shirt goes first, unfastened at the cuffs, the collar peeled from his shoulders in a fluid shrug. he folds it in thirds, sets it at the foot of the bed. the belt follows, unthreaded without haste, coiled neatly atop the pressed cotton. his trousers for last.

you stare openly. his body is as disciplined as his manner—lean muscle honed into functional definition. deep, abdominal lines stark beneath skin, a hard taper from chest to the sharp vee of his hip line. a sparse trail of dark hair vanishes into the waistband of his boxers.

“stop gawking,” he says without inflection.

caught, your eyes flick away as heat crawls up your cheeks. but then you glimpse the outline straining against his briefs—thick, unmistakable. he’s not as detached as he pretends.

when he finally climbs onto the bed, he does so with the quiet grace and deliberation akin to a jaguar. knees parting yours. gaze flicking downward. anatomic appraisal.

your legs fall open without instruction. his hand slide between them, deft and unerring. the pads of his fingers part you, learn the shape of your cunt with an eerie composure. already you’re wet. embarrassingly so.

he makes no comment.

his middle finger glides inside, sinking to the knuckle. a second joins, curls. your breath catches, and only then does he glance up—green eyes sharp, studying every reaction.

“this will hurt,” he says eventually. a plain truth, spoken without cruelty. his thumb circles your clit once, then stills. “only the first time,” he adds. “after that, you’ll crave it.”

your eyebrow arches. “confident.”

“i don’t speak in hypotheticals.” he withdraws his fingers, leaving you clenching around nothing. after a pause, a quieter note:

“tell me now if you don’t want this.”

“i do.”

and that’s the truth.

he strips off his briefs with one hand. his cock springs free, flushed and heavy, arcing toward his navel. it’s too much and somehow exactly what you wanted. he strokes himself—a couple of quick pumps to adjust. then he’s lining up. the blunt head drags slick between your folds, painting you with precome. the contact makes you gasp. he watches your face carefully.

“you’ll tell me if it’s too much,”

and then he pushes in.

one smooth, sustained thrust.

your cunt stretches tight around him, the intrusion sudden—a burning sensation flaring up your spine. it feels impossible, every inch of him prying you open. patiently, damian waits for you to adjust before pushing in deeper. the new angle makes your vision white at the edges.

“breathe,” he says, thumb stroking the hollow of your throat.

“you’re fine. you can take it.” his own breath is steady, controlled through his nose. he doesn’t move yet—waits. watches. only when your eyes flutter open again does he rear back his hips.

the first thrust draws a gasp from your chest. each thrust is slow but invasive, his pelvis slapping yours with muffled force. your hands scramble over his back, nails dragging down the lean line of his spine. he groans into the crook of your shoulder, surprised by it—one arm braced beside your head, the other sliding under your thigh to hold you in place.

“damian—think m’ clo—”

you break off with a moan, pitch slurring upward. you’re already so close to the precipice, pressure building rapidly from the friction and fullness.

“i know, albi.”

he breathes, the nickname raw on his tongue. his hand slips between your bodies, long fingers finding your clit without fail. circles twice, then presses down. you come hard, breath catching sharp in your throat as your cunt tightens around him. he groans low in response, hips stuttering once against the clamp of your body. your hands lock around his shoulders, gasping into his mouth as pleasure finally overtakes you, blinding and hot.

in arabic, “albi” (قلبي) translates to “my heart.”

 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑-𝐈𝐒-𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content. ꕀ

[jellytoru]

ꜰᴛ. ᴅɪᴄᴋ ɢʀᴀʏꜱᴏɴ, ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ, ᴋʏʟᴇ ʀᴀʏɴᴇʀ, ʀᴏʏ ʜᴀʀᴘᴇʀ, & ᴡᴀʟʟʏ ᴡᴇꜱᴛ

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪɴꜱᴇʀᴛ: ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰʏ ʀᴇ���ᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ ᴀɴɴᴏᴜɴᴄᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴀ/ɴ: ᴀɴ ᴀᴍᴀʟɢᴀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!

ᴅɪᴄᴋ – ᴡᴇ’ʀᴇ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙᴀʙʏ, ʙᴀʙʏ! ᴛᴡ: ꜰᴇʀᴛɪʟɪᴛʏ ɪꜱꜱᴜᴇꜱ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ (ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ/ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰʏᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ)

After months at it like horny rabbits, a feat you didn’t think possible considering Dick’s baseline libido, it had seemed like an impossible task. You’d long since given up trying, at least until the fertility treatment appointment Bruce has dropped big bucks on, which wasn’t for a few more weeks.

It’s why you didn’t get your hopes up when your period didn’t come as expected. It’s why you didn’t reach for a pregnancy test straight away, why Dick didn’t push the subject. Neither of you wanted to deal with the sting of disappointment that the inevitably negative test would administer.

At least that’s what you’d thought the mutually agreed up status would be. When you emerge from the en-suite, limbo status pee stick in hand, Dick keeps his head down, but you see his stormy blue eyes, peeking out from under his dark locks, his yearning clear as day. It breaks your heart as you picture his face in 10 minutes' time, the same look of disappointment, of grief you’d seen too many times before, plastered on his face, only adding to your own feelings of pain and inadequacy.

But at the same time, it’s Dick who makes you feel better when you’re low, so you climb into the bed beside him and curling up in his arms. Eyes closed, focused only on the soothing fluctuation of his chest and the feel of his lips against your forehead.

“Hey, baby.” Dicks voice stirs you. You’re not sure if you’d been sleeping for a while or if you’d just started to doze but your eyes feel heavy as you look up at your partner. He’s trying to keep a straight face, but the corners of his eyes are creased in a way you recognise as his attempt to hide a smile, and you have to remind yourself not to expect anything. “Look.”

Something shifts in your peripheral, Dick is waving the test back and forth to grab your attention, but the movement makes it hard to read the test window until you reach out to grab it from him.

Two lines.

Two beautiful, beautiful lines.

“We’re…”

He finally cracks, lips twisting into a genuine, sunny smile. One you’d missed wholeheartedly. It doesn’t leave his lips as he presses it to your face, over and over, words marred as he smothers you with his affections. “We’re gonna have to give you a new nickname, cause we’re having a baby, baby!”

ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ – ɪ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ꜱᴀʏ ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ. ᴛᴡ: ᴍɪʟᴅ ᴀʀɢᴜɪɴɢ.

There isn’t even a hint of irony or humour in his face. He’s stone-cold serious. More than 200 lbs of muscle, scar tissue, and don’t-fuck-with-me- face, standing in front of you with an unopened pregnancy test.

“You can’t be serious.” He doesn’t falter at your dismissal, position and face held firm even as you roll your eyes and attempt to gently bat the box away. “I think I’d know if I was pregnant.”

“Would you?” The stern look on his face finally waivers, making way for a cocked brow and a teasing smirk. He can be so smug sometimes; Thinks he knows you better than you know yourself.

You might regret giving him an inch, but you concede, slightly. “Okay, maybe I wouldn’t know know, but I’d have a hunch.”

“Yeah? Well, I have a hunch.” He fires back, following close behind you as you attempt to walk away. Right on your heels until you collapse on the couch. “Humour me.”

“A hunch based on what?” You ask as he joins you, lifting your legs to make space for himself before letting them fall back down onto his lap.

“Well…” Milky eyes land on your breasts just long enough to make a point before they trail back down your body, stopping at your ankles, which admittedly have been giving you trouble recently. When he pressed his thumb hard into its joints and starts to massage them, you don’t complain, but you’re not willing to admit defeat just yet. “You’ve been… swelling, and you’ve been peeing a lot. Weird things make you nauseous, things you used to like.”

Of course, you’ve noticed these things too, but when he starts listing them back-to-back like this you can’t deny that his case is might just be a teensy bit compelling.

“You’re tired all the time, and I’m pretty sure you’re-”

“Okay, fine.” You yield, playfully glaring at him as you grab the box from the coffee table where he’d placed it before joining you. “I’ll take the test, but when I’m right, and I will be, you have to go to the store and buy me ice cream.”

“Random food cravings, that's also a sign.” Before you bite back he already raises his arms in surrender, a cheeky, boyish laugh rolling off his tongue under the burn of your glare until you close the bathroom door behind you.

Jason can be quite the sore loser when his stake is high enough, but he’s always been a surprisingly gracious, if quietly complacent, winner. You know this, as you sheepishly exit the bathroom 20 minutes later, positive test in hand.

You’re not quite sure what you’d expected to find upon your emergence, but Jason, grinning ear to ear, ice cream and a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting in hand is certainly a sight you could get used to.

ᴋʏʟᴇ – ᴍoᴍᴍʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ.

He’s clueless. Tired as a worn-out rag, as he drags his feet around the apartment. He’s greeted you with a cheery smile, and a long-awaited smooch, undoubtedly happy to be home and with you once again. But Lantern business is arduous, and while his heart might be all in on being home, his brain certainly isn’t switched on.

“I can do all that for you.” You volunteer, watching closely as he boils the kettle, tries to undress, and attempts to unpack what he can, but he’s having none of it.

“No, no, it’s fine. I can do it.” He reassures you, love in his eyes as he blinks slow and sleepily at you, tasks at hand almost forgotten. “I- um- you- you rest. I’m home now, so um- so you don’t have to do everything around here.”

With his attention on you for a moment, you try to avert his gaze downward to the growing bump in your belly, or your t-shirt which states; ‘MOMMY TO BE’ in big, bold, colourful font, but the kettle starts to sing before he comprehends anything, and he’s turns away from you all too soon.

“You do everything all over the universe.” You point out as you join him at the counter, retrieving two mugs for him to fill. “I don’t see why you should have to do everything around here too. Not yet, anyway.”

“Not yet?” He questions slowly, eying you confused, following your hands as you smooth them down your shirt before resting your palms against your stomach. “Mommy to be.”

He reads your shirt aloud, slowly sounding out each syllable before repeating, “Mommy. Momm-eee… Wait, you’re gonna be a mommy?”

Already his drowsy eyes are several inches wider, his mouth agape, curling into a wide grin as you nod. “You’re gonna be a mommy, which means I’m gonna be a dad? Me! A daddy!?”

“Yes!” Clutching your hands tight and bringing them to his chest.

“Oh, this is the best news! This is amazing! I love you so much.” Kyle is the first to start jumping up and down, newfound energy now coursing through his body, but you follow his lead soon after, briefly. All that hopping can't be good for the baby after all.

ʀᴏʏ – ᴘɪɴᴄʜ ᴍᴇ.

Telling Roy became more of a spectacle than you’d hoped. Despite all your best efforts to play things cool, you could feel their eyes on you across the table. Roy’s, Dinah’s, Ollie's. Every glance might seem totally innocuous to any onlookers, but you could see the curiosity behind every prolonged stare and quirked lip as you declined alcohol, and coffee, and coke. Who knew there were so many boundaries on what pregnant people should and shouldn’t eat. No eggs, no poultry, no cheese, no fish.

Obviously, you couldn’t have known that Roy would have succeeded in his long-standing purpose to knock you up when you’d agreed to dinner with the soon-to-be in-laws, but man, had you known, you’d have declined.

At least then you wouldn’t be sweating like a sinner as you try to stomach the only thing on the menu that meets all your new dietary requirements. They're some of the smartest people you know, surely they can tell.

“So,” Dinah starts, and you can feel yourself unraveling. “Are you-”

“Yes! Yes, fine, I’m pregnant.” The word vomit escapes you under the mounting pressure before you even think them through, and you realise very quickly, as you process the barrage of wide, confused eyes staring at you, that your confession may have been unnecessary.

“I was going to ask if you’re enjoying your food.” Dinah clarifies, smiling as her eyes find Roy’s over the table. “But congratulations, how exciting.”

“That is great news. I think another round is in order, don’t you Di? Lemonade all round!” Ollie continues, and you nod and smile politely, but really, your energy is focused on Roy, who hasn’t moved an inch or said a word since your impromptu announcement.

His expression gives nothing away, and his eyes don’t even land on you until he feels the palm of your hand drape over the top of his. “Roy, are you okay? I thought you'd be excited.”

You thought he’d be happier. He’s been begging for this for months, but you have to strain your eyes when he finally speaks up, forest green eyes detached as he whispers. “Pinch me.”

“What?”

“Pinch me.” He repeats, and the relief floods through you as you watch his lips crack into a triumphant smile. Unadulterated joy flooding his face all at once as he grabs both your arms and pulls you closer. “This is the best thing to happen since Lian was born!”

ᴡᴀʟʟʏ – ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ. ᴛᴡ: ᴍɪʟᴅ ᴀʀɢᴜɪɴɢ.

“Open up I gotta take a leak.” Your husband calls from the other side of the wood that separates you, stirring you from your disoriented train of thought.

As a couple, you’d been trying for a baby ever since you’d tied the knot, but now that it’s really happening, the reality of the situation has hit you like a ton of bricks. A baby. A real flesh and blood child, a fragile little being who will be reliant on you, who will look to you for guidance and for, well, everything.

“You good?” Wally shouts again, this time knocking on the door, stopping your descent into internal panic before it happens again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You lie, shoving the cap back on the test before hiding it in your back pocket, opening the door, and greeting Wally with a smile that even you know doesn’t reach your eyes.

He smiles back at you, but his gaze lingers on your expression, those emerald irises seemingly looking right through you, but the pressure in his bladder must win out because he doesn’t follow you as you swap places, and the sound of his zipper fills your ears before the door is even closed.

You barely make it downstairs before the telltale rush of wind that signifies his presence hits you, however. He’s waiting for you on the couch by the time you reach it, bottom lip between his teeth and he looks at you with big sad eyes.

Before you can even ask him what’s wrong, he pipes up; “So, when where you gonna tell me?”

He looks as troubled as you feel, but apparently for different reasons.

“Tell you what…” You trail off as you clock it; the pink plastic stick that has been in your pocket now twirls deliberately between Wally’s anxiously animated fingers. “Of course I was, I just needed a little time to process first.”

When Wally talks-faster-than-he-runs West has nothing to say, you know there’s something wrong. There is rarely silence between you, and while you’ve never felt the need to justify anything to the man you love, you do feel an itch to make some noise, so you keep talking. “It’s just, I know I should be happy, and I am! I’m just also, scared. You know?”

In an instant, the concern etched into his features melts, replaced by the sunshine you’d come to love; his freckles shifting under the stretch of a smile. Your own tense muscles relaxing at the sound of his laugh. “Of course you’re scared, I'm scared too” Having kids is terrifying!”

“Yeah?” You ask quietly, feeling silly for getting so in your head about the situation.

“Yeah!” Wally replies. You watch as he starts to stand before disappearing from view, and reappearing right behind you, arms wrapped tight around your torso, bringing you in for a hug. His lips are soft against the back of your neck as he nuzzles into you. “But we’re gonna be scared together, right, Momma?”

[jellytoru]

paring: dick grayson x fem!reader | a/n at the bottom!

tw: suggestive content | MNDI 18+

“you have to be quiet for me, can you do that?” you nod, not daring to make a sound. dick smirks faintly, his hand squeezing your hip in appreciation of listening to him.

“that’s my girl, don’t make a sound, okay?”

“okay,” you mumble, he grins, showing off his perfect teeth, and you can’t help but give him a dopey smile back. you’ve always loved his smile.

“my sweet girl. just stay still and let me play with you a bit, yeah?” dick mumbles, kissing your jaw, as his hand traces against your thigh. his hand slowly makes its way towards your underwear.

“dick.”you mumble but dick quickly shushes you, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow. “didn’t i tell you not to make a sound?” you frown but nod your head. you’ll keep quiet.

dick goes back to looking down at your hips, his fingers hook under your underwear, sliding it down your legs. he looks back up towards your face, his blue eyes lock with yours. lazily smiling at you he dangles your underwear in front of you. “i’ll keep these for myself, okay?” he slips them into the back of his jean pocket and then he splits your legs apart, leaning down. “are you going to keep quiet and let me taste you?” he mumbles his mouth so close to your cunt, it aches.

“who does this pussy belong to?”

“me?” you murmur sarcastically. just to push his buttons. he slaps your thigh lightly, shooting you a warning glare, trying his hardest not to laugh. “smartass.”

a/n: first time writing for dick grayson! i hope i did a decent job, he’s literally my favorite <3