Good Enough

𝑨 𝑪𝑨𝑻-𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑯𝑰𝑪 𝑪𝑼𝑹𝑺𝑬 . ݁₊ ⊹ . 🐈 .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩

.°⋆🖇₊˚ෆ summary: a contact with a cursed object leaves you with cat ears, tail and feline instincts that you can barely suppress, much to nanami’s amusement.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ teddy’s notes: yeah… this happened instead of studying… anyways… enjoy!!

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ contains: 4,2k words, fluff, crack maybe?? attempts at humour?? also yes, there is some usage of “kitten” “kitty” because duh, but like you blame sylus for me even remotely using kitten, he made it sounds nice and not cringe >:(( reader is gender neutral i think? anyway yeah

nanami is not the type to overreact. he’s not even the type to react normally half the time—always composed, always logical. but when he turns to check on you after the curse has been exorcised and sees the ears, his brain completely stalls.

you’re standing there, oblivious at first, stretching your arms over your head. but on top of your head, nestled in your hair, are a pair of cat ears with fur matching your hair color—twitching, moving with your every breath. behind you, a tail flicks back and forth, irritated, as if it has a mind of its own.

nanami’s eye twitches.

“what?” you ask, noticing his stare.

he exhales sharply and pulls out his phone. within seconds, he’s holding it up in front of your face, the front camera on.

you blink at your reflection. tilt your head. the ears move.

you freeze.

your tail flicks.

“what the hell,” you whisper.

“you’ve been cursed,” nanami confirms, his voice too even.

“no shit.” you reach up, grabbing at your new ears, and—oh. they’re real. they’re attached.

your tail flicks again, and in a split-second decision, you spin around, trying to catch it.

nanami lets out a very sharp exhale, and you snap your gaze back to him.

his expression is calm, as usual, but his hand has come up to his face, two fingers resting lightly against his mouth.

oh.

he’s holding back.

“don’t,” you warn.

“don’t what?”

“don’t laugh.”

“i’m not laughing.” but his voice has gone softer, like he’s physically restraining himself.

you narrow your eyes, tail still flicking behind you. “you’re enjoying this.”

“not at all.” he replies, too smoothly.

—

side effects include: extreme embarrassment.

it doesn’t take long for the curse to really kick in.

first, the naps.

you don’t even realize you’re doing it at first, but nanami sure does.

every time he looks over, you’re curled up somewhere new—on the couch, in a patch of sunlight on the floor, tucked into a corner of his office like a loaf of bread. once, he finds you sitting on the windowsill, your arms wrapped around your knees, eyes fluttering shut as the sun beams down on you.

the first few times, he lets you be. maybe you were just extra tired. but after the fourth, he starts keeping track.

“you’re sleeping a lot,” he finally comments.

“not my fault,” you mumble, shifting slightly in your very comfortable sunspot. “stupid curse.”

but the problem isn’t just that you’re sleeping—it’s how you sleep.

nanami starts noticing that you don’t just nap anywhere, you nap strategically. you find the warmest places, the coziest corners, the softest blankets. once, he leaves his sweater on the couch, and when he returns, he finds you curled up in it, hugging it close.

he stares at you for a long moment, taking in the sight of you completely nesting in his clothes, tail loosely wrapped around your legs.

he quietly walks away. he will not let himself react to this.

but the worst part is that you wake up every time he moves. your ears twitch, head lifting slightly, as if you’re tracking his movements.

like right now.

“you’re watching me,” you mumble, eyes barely open.

nanami clears his throat. “your ears are following me before you do.”

“oh,” you say. then, after a pause: “gross.”

he sighs.

next, the instincts.

one morning, nanami reaches for his coffee, and you flinch. your ears flatten before you even process what’s happening.

he stops mid-motion, brows slightly furrowed. “you okay?”

you rub your face, trying to snap out of it. “yeah, yeah. just—” you wave a hand vaguely. “brain is lagging.”

he says nothing more, but he does watch as your ears slowly perk up again, regaining their usual alertness.

the flinching happens a few more times—when a book drops off the table, when he moves too suddenly, when you hear an unexpected noise. each time, nanami makes note of it, though he never comments.

until one night.

you’re both sitting on the couch, watching something on tv, when nanami stretches his arm out to grab the remote.

your ears flick down, your body tensing.

and then—before you can stop yourself—you gently boop his hand away.

you blink. he blinks.

you both slowly turn to look at each other.

nanami loses it.

it’s not much—just a sharp exhale, a slight shake of his head—but you know. you know he’s laughing at you.

but the worst moment—the one that nearly destroys him—

he sees you standing in the hallway, completely still, staring at a piece of string hanging from his robe.

he watches, silent, as your pupils dilate.

and then—without a single thought—you bat at it.

you freeze. nanami freezes.

his lips part slightly, as if he’s about to say something, but no words come out.

your tail flicks.

slowly, you retract your hand. “forget that.”

nanami exhales through his nose, tilting his head back, rubbing his temple like he’s in physical pain.

“i think i need to sit down.”

bonus: the things nanami won’t talk about.

how you now hate closed doors and will paw at them until he opens them, even if you have no reason to be on the other side.

how, when he scratches the back of your head just right, you go completely still and lean into his hand.

how you’ve started stalking small objects in the house, crouching low like you’re about to pounce.

how, when he puts something on a high shelf, you immediately try to climb up to retrieve it, despite the fact that you have no reason to need it.

—

nanami, menace mode: activated.

the first time it happens, you don’t think much of it.

you’re lying on the couch, comfortably sprawled out, your tail flicking lazily at the edge of the cushion. it’s a quiet evening, nanami reading a book beside you, nothing out of the ordinary.

until—

a small red dot appears on the wall.

your ears twitch.

you don’t mean to react, but your pupils dilate, your tail goes rigid, and your body tenses like you’re about to pounce.

nanami notices.

slowly, your brain catches up with your instincts, and you snap your gaze toward him.

he’s sitting there, book still in hand, utterly calm—but his free hand is resting suspiciously in his lap.

you know.

“you did not,” you hiss.

nanami, completely unbothered, clicks the laser pointer off, looking far too pleased with himself. “i had to be sure.”

“be sure of what?”

he gestures vaguely toward your twitching tail. “that.”

your mouth opens, then closes. you whip your head away, ears flicking wildly, refusing to meet his gaze.

nanami hums, flipping a page in his book. “interesting.”

you do not like the sound of that.

the second time.

you’re trying to read when you feel it.

that primal urge. that deep, instinctive feeling that something is moving nearby.

your eyes flick to the floor.

the red dot is back.

this time, you’re prepared. you refuse to fall for it. you dig your nails into your book, ignoring the way your tail starts to flick.

nanami, who is not even pretending to be subtle anymore, leans back in his chair, expression unreadable.

he lazily moves the laser across the floor.

your ears betray you. they twitch.

“don’t you dare,” you warn.

the dot moves faster.

you grip the couch cushion, trying to steady yourself.

“nanami—”

but it’s already too late.

before you can stop yourself, you lunge.

your hand smacks against the floor, but—nothing.

the dot is gone.

silence.

slowly, you lift your head.

nanami is staring down at you, arms crossed, expression neutral—but his eyes are shining with amusement.

you hate him.

“i,” you say, voice trembling with shame, “am going to kill you.”

“mhm.” he uncaps his pen, noting something down. “fascinating.”

the third time.

you’re onto him now. you know his games.

so when the red dot appears in your peripheral vision, you refuse to acknowledge it. you will win.

you cross your arms, staring blankly at the tv. your ears do not twitch. your tail does not flick. you are stronger than this.

the dot moves.

your jaw tightens.

it moves again.

you do not react.

nanami makes a soft sound. almost a hmm.

the dot stops.

victory.

or so you think.

until nanami casually says—

“if you ignore it, i will start using catnip.”

your head whips around so fast you nearly get whiplash. “you wouldn’t.”

he doesn’t respond. he just looks at you.

you squint. “you have some, don’t you?”

“i have my methods.”

“you absolute menace—”

nanami simply clicks the laser off, sets it aside, and continues reading like he didn’t just threaten your dignity.

you’re going to strangle him.

—

an opportunity he couldn’t miss.

it’s a lazy afternoon, and you’re curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone again. nanami is beside you, reading, but there’s an air of playfulness between the two of you now. his casual teasing has become more frequent, and you’re starting to suspect he’s enjoying the little quirks the curse has brought out in you.

he glances over at you with that familiar, slightly teasing smile on his face.

“come here, kitten,” he says, the words dripping with mock sweetness.

you freeze, the soft sound of his voice luring you in like a siren’s call. you tilt your head just slightly, your ears twitching in that way, your tail giving a soft flick as if it recognizes the invitation.

for a split second, you almost respond.

almost.

you barely catch yourself in time, holding your breath as the instinct pulls at you. but you don’t want to be too obvious. you don’t want to fall into the trap.

but then, nanami extends his hand toward you, palm open, fingers curling in a slow, inviting motion.

“come on,” he coaxes, his voice smooth, playful. “nestle up against me, kitty.”

your heart skips a beat, and this time, you’re almost certain you can hear the faintest sound of your tail swishing. oh, no, you tell yourself, you can’t do this.

but when you look up at him, your gaze locking with his, there’s something irresistible about the way he looks at you—tender, amused, but also… completely sincere.

the corners of your lips twitch, and despite yourself, your body begins to move. your legs slide off the couch, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re standing, a little wobbly on your feet as your tail flicks uncertainly behind you.

he watches you with soft amusement, waiting for you to make the first move. your movements are hesitant at first, your steps small and unsure, but you can’t help it. your body wants to curl up next to him.

there’s a moment of hesitation as you stand in front of him, unsure if you should really go through with it. but nanami’s hand remains outstretched, warm and waiting for you, the invitation undeniable.

he doesn’t rush you. instead, he softens his expression, the teasing still present but gentler now. “it’s okay,” he says, almost like he’s reading your mind. “i’m not going to bite.”

you swallow the knot in your throat, finally giving in, and step closer to him. as you do, you hear his breath hitch slightly, and his hand moves, fingers brushing the side of your face before gently cupping the back of your neck.

so soft, you think.

you can’t help the tiny sound that escapes from your throat, something between a hum and a purr as you instinctively lean in, resting your head on his shoulder. his arm wraps around your back, drawing you in closer, his body radiating warmth as he adjusts you to nestle more comfortably against him.

for a few moments, the world fades away. all that exists is the quiet hum of your shared space, the rhythm of nanami’s breath, and the steady, comforting pressure of his hand on your back.

you’re not sure how long you stay like that, but time seems irrelevant. you’re just content to be in his arms, feeling safe and close to him.

“see,” he murmurs quietly, his voice low and warm against your ear. “i knew you wanted to. you don’t have to hide it, you know.”

you suppress a soft, embarrassed mewl that threatens to slip out. you’re not hiding anything, you tell yourself, even though you know that’s a little lie.

his fingers card through your hair slowly, soothingly, and you can’t fight the way your body relaxes into his touch, the gentle scratches behind your ears making your eyes flutter closed.

“you’re a little too cute for your own good,” he says with a chuckle, his thumb brushing along your jawline, tender and affectionate. “but i don’t mind.”

you can feel the heat in your cheeks, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you settle deeper into his arms, the warmth of the moment washing over you.

and as nanami presses a soft kiss to your temple, whispering a quiet, “stay here with me,” you can’t help but think that, maybe, being his little kitten isn’t so bad after all.

—

a dangerous sound.

it happens when you least expect it.

you’re sitting on the couch, absorbed in your phone. nanami is nearby, doing some work, though the two of you are mostly enjoying the quiet of the evening.

without thinking much of it, he absentmindedly reaches out and scratches the back of your head, fingers gently brushing through your hair.

your breath hitches.

and then—

you meow.

it’s completely involuntary, a soft, breathy sound that escapes before you can stop it. it’s like a reflex, like your body just can’t help itself. you freeze, eyes wide as you realize what you’ve just done.

the silence that follows is deafening.

the only sound is the faint rustling of the pages in nanami’s book, his breath seemingly caught in his throat. slowly, you look up, cheeks already burning.

nanami’s eyes are wide, but it’s not surprise. there’s something else—something softer—in his gaze. his lips part slightly, his hand still lingering in your hair, but his expression is utterly unreadable.

you scramble to recover, but the words come out too quickly. “you didn’t hear anything.”

there’s a pause.

“i did,” he whispers back, his voice lower than usual.

your heart skips a beat.

he leans closer, and before you can even process it, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for just a second longer than necessary. the warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine.

“you’re adorable,” he murmurs, his voice thick with affection, and you can’t help the way your cheeks heat up even more.

you look down, avoiding his gaze. “i’m not, nanami.”

“oh, you are,” he says, this time reaching out to gently tilt your chin up so he can meet your eyes. there’s a glimmer of mischief in them now, but it’s softened by something much warmer, much more tender.

“really,” he continues, leaning in closer, his lips hovering just above your forehead again. “i think you’re irresistible.”

you’re about to protest, but before you can, his lips are on yours—slow, gentle, but filled with all the affection he’s been holding back.

you freeze for a moment, taken off guard by the kiss, but then it sinks in. his lips are warm, soft, and you melt into it without thinking.

it’s the most tender kiss, nothing forceful or rushed, just a quiet, intimate moment between the two of you. your hands reach up, tentatively touching his chest as you lean into him.

when he pulls away, he looks at you with a soft smile, his thumb brushing the corner of your lips.

“you’re definitely my favorite little cat,” he whispers, voice hushed and full of warmth.

you can’t look him in the eye. your face is burning, but at least now you can’t stop the soft, happy purring sound that bubbles up from deep inside you.

nanami’s expression softens even further at the sound, and with a slight chuckle, he leans down to plant another kiss on the top of your head, as if to claim you once more.

“i can’t resist you, you know.”

you murmur something inaudible, still unable to fully process the way your heart is racing in your chest.

but nanami doesn’t mind. he’s content to let you be flustered, to let you meow again if it means he gets to keep you all to himself.

—

the curse wears off… kind of.

it’s a few days later when the curse finally begins to wear off, the effects gradually fading as if the universe decided you’d had enough time to learn the ins and outs of being a “kitty.”

one evening, as you’re both sitting on the couch, you notice it. your tail is gone. there are no ears to twitch in response to every little sound. the soft meows that had slipped from your lips are silent.

for a moment, you feel… normal.

you reach up to touch your head, feeling the familiar sensation of your hair instead of the soft fur you’ve become used to.

“well,” you mutter to yourself, letting out a soft sigh, “guess that’s over.”

nanami glances over at you, raising an eyebrow. “feeling better?”

you nod, but as you do, there’s a small shift in your posture—an old habit that hasn’t quite left you. you curl into the couch just a little more, your body sinking into the cushions like you’re seeking comfort, much like you did during your curse.

and then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, your hand reaches up to scratch the back of your head, the same place he had done earlier.

nanami watches you, a soft chuckle escaping him as he leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “you’re not going to stop, are you?”

you freeze, mid-scratch. “what?”

his gaze softens, but there’s a playful gleam in his eyes. “i thought the curse wore off.”

“it did!” you defend yourself, but even as you say it, your hand lingers on your head, your fingers brushing through the hair as if it should be there.

before you can say anything else, your stomach growls.

you pause.

a few seconds go by.

and then you can’t help it—the sound that escapes from your mouth is more of a soft, needy meow than a normal sigh.

you freeze.

nanami stares at you for a long moment. and then, with the most unbearable amusement in his voice, he asks, “are you still going to act like a cat, even without the ears and tail?”

you glare at him. “i can’t help it,” you mumble, crossing your arms, suddenly self-conscious. “it’s a curse, remember?”

he leans closer, eyes gleaming with mischief. “oh, i remember.”

but what really breaks you is when he casually picks up a small toy from the coffee table—a little mouse, one he’d kept just in case—and dangles it in front of you, like he knows exactly what’s about to happen.

your body responds before your mind does, and before you can stop yourself, your fingers twitch and reach out to bat at it. your movements are quick and fluid, a perfect imitation of how you had acted before, even though your ears and tail are gone.

nanami grins like a cat who’s finally caught the mouse. “that’s cute,” he teases, his voice low and amused. “still acting like a kitty?”

you feel the flush rise in your cheeks. “it’s a habit, okay? i’m not doing it on purpose.”

but even as you say that, you feel your body sinking back into that comfortable, familiar position, curling up against the armrest of the couch. your legs tuck beneath you, and your body just settles, as if it’s never known anything else.

when you glance up, nanami is watching you with a softened expression, his smile now filled with affection. “you’re not fooling anyone,” he says, his voice teasing but fond. “you might have lost the tail and ears, but you’re still my little kitten.”

you bury your face in your knees to hide your embarrassment.

“you started it,” you mutter, but there’s no real heat in your voice. instead, you can’t help but feel a warmth spread through your chest—one that only seems to grow every time he looks at you, like you’re his favorite little secret.

nanami chuckles softly, shifting to sit next to you. he places a hand on your head, the same place he’d scratched when you were a cat, and gently runs his fingers through your hair.

“you might not have your cat ears anymore,” he says, his voice soft, “but i think you’re still the same adorable mess.”

your heart flutters at his words, and you curl into his side, not even bothering to fight it anymore.

maybe you weren’t a cat anymore. maybe the curse was gone.

but as nanami holds you, your body naturally leans into his touch, and that purring sound that you thought was lost slips from your lips once again.

and this time, nanami doesn’t seem surprised at all.

—

bonus: the ear and tail torture.

it starts innocently enough—nanami sitting next to you on the couch, his fingers idly tracing the back of your neck as you sit there, lost in your thoughts. you’ve been trying to keep your cat-like tendencies in check, but the curse seems to have left more lasting effects than you’d like to admit.

and then he does it.

he scratches behind your ear.

it’s slow at first, the touch just a gentle caress, but your body reacts almost instantly. your ear twitches. your tail swishes. you feel a warm, almost dizzying sensation spread through your body, and suddenly, the world is a little softer, a little more… mellow.

“nanami,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, but it cracks a little.

he tilts his head, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “what was that? i couldn’t hear you.”

you bite your lip, trying to ignore the way your body leans into his touch, your muscles tightening. “s-stop it,” you say, but it’s weak, barely above a whisper.

he chuckles and leans in closer. “stop what?” he asks innocently, but you can see the playful gleam in his eyes.

and before you can stop him, he scratches a little harder, right where your ear meets the top of your skull.

a quiet, involuntary sound escapes you—a soft, purring noise—and your eyes flutter shut. your tail flicks against the couch, and you can’t seem to stop yourself from leaning into his hand.

“there it is,” nanami murmurs, and you know he’s enjoying every moment of this. “you can’t resist it, can you?”

you clench your fists, embarrassed, but it only seems to make things worse. your body’s already reacting, your stomach flipping with warmth as his fingers continue their relentless assault on your ears.

“nanami,” you whimper again, this time less of a command and more of a plea. “stop…”

he leans in even closer, his lips brushing against the top of your head, but his hands don’t stop. they slide from your ear, down to your fluffy tail, and he gives it a light tug.

you freeze, your entire body stiffening. you don’t mean to, but your legs stretch out in response, and you feel your tail twitch at the touch.

“do you like that?” he asks softly, almost too casually. “you’re pretty much purring now.”

“no… i… i’m not…” you stutter, but the words lose all meaning as his fingers graze your tummy.

a soft gasp escapes your lips when his hand rests there, gently scratching at the sensitive skin. your body reacts before you can process it, your hips lifting slightly in a futile attempt to escape the sensation.

you try to pull away, but it’s like your body’s completely surrendered. your stomach tightens with each soft scratch, and before you know it, a full-blown purr slips from your mouth, your face burning with embarrassment.

“you are a kitty, aren’t you?” nanami murmurs, his voice thick with amusement. his hand never stops, sliding from your tummy to your ribs, your tail still twitching beneath his fingers. “can’t resist it at all, can you?”

you barely manage a weak protest, but it’s lost under another mewl of pleasure. your hands curl into the fabric of his shirt, the feeling of your soft fur and his teasing touch making your brain melt.

why does it feel so good? you wonder desperately, your resistance crumbling with each second. you can barely keep your eyes open now, your body completely pliable in his hands.

“okay, okay,” he says, finally pulling his hands away. “i think you’ve had enough for today.”

you whine in protest, but it’s weak, like you don’t actually want him to stop. you want more.

nanami looks at you with an expression that’s a mix of affection and mischief, and his voice is soft. “you’re too cute. i think i’m going to have a hard time letting this go.”

your face is burning now, but you can’t help the small, satisfied purr that slips from your throat as you curl up next to him. you’ve lost the battle completely, and for some reason, you don’t mind one bit.

never lose hope

Y’all don’t make use of subtle/weird traits in fics enough.

Dudes—

Bakugou literally has hyperhidrosis. Make him switch shirts constantly, or constantly wiping his hands, or outright refusing to touch things because nitroglycerin is a volatile substance.

Midoriya is constantly chewing on his lips or thumb while in thought. Either his lips are SO chapped or he’s a skin picker and the skin around his finger tips are super rough.

Uraraka is a poor kid. She would absolutely have some kind of financial anxiety. Make her be extremely frugal OOOORRR BETTER YET make her absolutely awful with money.

Aizawa is a hypersomniac. Give the man a nightmare disorder or something. We can be more imaginative than just always kinda tired.

Kirishima has/had really bad quirk envy. Please I need to see this addressed more. Even at the best hero school, in the top class, he talks down on his quirk.

Todoroki really doesn’t think very much. He acts quickly but very thoughtlessly. Coming to incorrect conclusions and moving too fast without knowing what to do next.

(G)I-DLE ✡ ‘OH MY GOD’ M/V TEASER

nct; the lost tapes

THIS MEANS WAR VI

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 2.7k synopsis: Gotham’s youngest neuroscience lecturer never planned to get tangled up with two of its most eligible bachelors. Both are determined to win her over—without revealing they know each other… or that they’re vigilantes. But when the Joker takes an interest in her, things get a whole lot more complicated. a/n: I'm finally home!! For some reason tumblr was blocked on my laptop there, which was why I wasn't that active but I hope you all enjoyed the other scheduled posts. I wanted to get this one out to y'all as soon as I could, so I hope my jet lagged brain managed to proof read it fine...if not oops. Also, I think the last chapter of this was scheduled so people were missed on the taglist, i should've fixed that for this chapter but let me know if you were missed! I'm sorry about that! Also did anyone catch that supernatural reference?

MILO'S APARTMENT

You were fucking panicking.

The second you saw that text on your phone, you were out the door and en route to Milo and Anthony’s apartment like it was a goddamn emergency—and to you, it was. You didn’t even say hello. Just beelined straight for their wine rack and uncorked a bottle like your life depended on it.

Halfway through chugging it, Milo snatched it from your grip.

“Talk or no more wine,” he said flatly. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

You groaned, dragging both hands down your face before collapsing onto the couch. “I fucked up.”

“Okay, well, you better start talking, because I swear to God—was it the match? You never told me how it went. Was he an asshole?”

“No,” you said, sitting up. “No. Dick was great.”

“Okay…” Milo said slowly.

“And so is Jason.”

He blinked. “Who the fuck is Jason?”

You explained. Everything. From the amazing date with Dick to the equally amazing time with Jason—each moment fresh in your mind and impossible to ignore—to the absolute mess you’d found yourself tangled in now.

“And now they both want to go out with me again,” you finished, looking like you might actually pass out from sheer stress. “And I don’t know what to do.”

Milo stared at you.

“I fail to see the problem here.”

You gawked at him. “I can’t date two guys at the same time!”

“Why the fuck not?” he demanded. “You’re hot. You’re single. And you’re exploring your romantic portfolio.”

You hesitated, then exhaled. “I feel bad.”

Milo narrowed his eyes at you like you’d just confessed to murdering someone’s puppy. “You feel bad?”

“Yes!” you groaned, collapsing against the couch cushions like the weight of your sins had finally taken you down. “I went out with Jason. After my date with Dick. Who, by the way, I also really like. And now I’m just… spiralling.”

Anthony, who’d been eavesdropping, finally emerged from the kitchen, casually sipping from his own glass of wine like this was better than anything Netflix could offer. He leaned against the doorway, perfectly at ease. 

“So let me get this straight,” he said, one brow raised. “You went on a date with one hot guy, then met another hot guy who you also went on a date with, and now both of them want more?”

You glared at him, deadpan. “Yes.”

He took another sip. “Girl, if that’s not the universe begging you to experiment, I don’t know what is.”

Milo jabbed a finger in your direction. “Exactly! You’re not cheating. You’re single. You’re exploring. Gathering data.”

“I’m not running a clinical trial,” you snapped, though a laugh escaped despite yourself.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Anthony muttered into his wine. “You’re treating this like a double-blind study with ethical guidelines.”

You covered your face with both hands. “This is a nightmare.”

“No,” Milo corrected, setting down his glass. “A nightmare is getting ghosted by someone who still watches all your stories and likes your dog pics. This? This is a champagne problem.”

You peeked at Milo through your fingers. “So… what do I do?”

“Date both,” he said without missing a beat.

“No.”

“Date. Both,” he repeated, completely undeterred. “No commitment. No promises. Just casual. See who actually fits into your life. Who listens. Who remembers your coffee order. Who quotes Austen and doesn’t flinch when you spiral into a lecture about neurotoxins.”

“Dick could keep up when I went full brainiac mode,” you murmured. “And Jason… Jason quoted Austen. Unprompted.”

Milo clutched his chest like you’d personally wounded him. “Be still my heart.”

“And they’re both so… different and amazing in their own ways,” you added, softer now, more to yourself than to them. “Dick is light. Safe. He makes me feel seen. And Jason is—”

“A walking red flag with a Shakespeare soul and hidden depth,” Anthony chimed in, deadpan.

You laughed despite yourself. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Milo gave you a pointed look. “Babe. You’re not choosing between a villain and a hero. You’re choosing between two men who see you. Who want to know you. If they’re both worth your time… then take the damn time to find out who you want and get to know them.”

You hesitated. “And if it blows up in my face?”

Milo didn’t blink. Just reached for the wine and refilled your glass. “Then we’ll be right here. With a playlist, ice cream, and a very detailed hit list.”

“Color-coded,” Anthony added with a sage nod. “Naturally.”

You exhaled, dragging a hand through your hair. “I hate how much sense you two make.”

“We’re gay. It’s our burden to carry,” Milo said solemnly, raising his glass. “To emotional clarity and romantic chaos.”

Anthony nodded, raising his own. “And may the best man win.”

You stared at them both like they’d sprouted wings or grown extra heads. “This is still ridiculous.”

“This,” Milo countered, pouring more wine into your glass, “is the golden age of options. You’re allowed to figure it out without pledging your undying love to the first man who makes you laugh.”

“I kissed Jason,” you muttered into your glass.

“And?” Anthony sipped. “Did you enjoy it?”

You hesitated. Then nodded. “Too much.”

“Exactly.” Milo held his glass up. “Right now, you just don’t know what you’re allowed to feel.”

You looked at them—these two chaotic bastards who somehow made emotional turmoil sound like a well-curated spa retreat—and let out a long breath.

“…I know I still feel bad.”

Milo rolled his eyes. “That’s because you’re a good person. You can feel bad and also let two hot guys take you out. Both things can be true.”

Anthony raised his glass. “To moral ambiguity and excellent taste in men.”

You clinked yours against theirs, muttering, “I’m going to hell.”

Milo grinned. “Then take both of them with you, babe.”

BATCAVE

Meanwhile, Jason was still riding the high from earlier. The night air was cool against his skin, the streets quiet beneath the hum of his bike. He was halfway to his apartment when the notification came through.

A case update.

He didn’t hesitate. One hard turn of the throttle, and he was veering off course, heading straight for the manor.

Inside the Batcave, the mood was noticeably different. Dick and Bruce were already suited up, arms crossed in near-identical stances, while Tim was anchored to the console, eyes scanning a rapid stream of data across multiple monitors.

“Took your time,” Dick said lightly, though the usual ease in his voice was dulled.

“I was busy,” Jason shot back, tugging off his gloves. “What’ve we got?”

Bruce turned toward the central screen, the glow casting shadows across his jaw. “We found a breakthrough.”

Jason’s easy mood evaporated.

Tim tapped a key, bringing up a profile. “To cut to the chase—we know who our ghost is.”

“Well, that’s great. Let’s track the son of a bitch down,” Jason said, his voice clipped with impatience as he stepped closer to the screen.

“It’s not that simple,” Tim replied, already typing something in. “There’s been no physical sightings in over four years. No residence, no digital footprint, no bank activity. Nothing directly traceable. We only got a name because of a flagged experiment—an old one that matches his signature. It was buried in an ethics report filed by his only known connection.”

Tim tapped another key.

“B/N L/N,” he said. “And the only person who might be able to help us find him—his younger sister.”

With a soft beep, the next slide loaded on screen.

A profile image appeared.

Jason froze. So did Dick.

“Dr. Y/N L/N,” Tim continued, unfazed. “Lecturer. Neuroscientist. Gotham University. She’s the one who blew the whistle on his unethical research, which caused the rift between them. Records show he’s made multiple attempts to contact her over the years. If he’s on the run from Joker… she might be the only person he trusts enough to go to. Or the only one who knows how he thinks.”

“She’s one of the youngest in her field,” he added, “with two PHDs—”

“Three,” Jason and Dick said at the same time before pausing.

Both men turned slowly, brows raised, staring at each other across the space between.

“How did you know that?” Dick asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

Jason’s gaze snapped to him. “How did you know that?”

Tim looked between them, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “Okay… do I even want to know what’s happening here?”

Bruce didn’t so much as blink. “Where can we find her?”

Tim cleared his throat, grateful for the shift back to business. “She’s scheduled to appear at the Gotham Futures Gala this weekend. It’s a high-profile event at the Fairmont. She’s a guest speaker. The event’s raising funds for youth science education and mentorship programs—STEM access, early outreach, that kind of thing.”

Bruce nodded, calculating. “Alright. I can go and see if I can—”

“No!” The word rang out in unison. Both Jason and Dick spoke at once, their voices overlapping in sudden urgency.

Bruce’s gaze flicked between them, unimpressed. “No?”

“I’ll go,” Dick said, his voice smooth and easy—too easy. The kind of voice he usually used to charm the high society. “You’re stretched thin with the Joker situation. Let me take this one.”

“Or I can go.” Jason stated. 

“You don’t even like gala’s.” Dick scoffed. 

“And you do?” Jason raised a brow. “You spend half the night dodging donors and sneaking champagne behind the curtains.”

“At least I clean up well.”

Jason crossed his arms. “You need to get back to Blüdhaven.”

“I’m on leave.” Dick snipped back. 

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose like he was already nursing a headache.

“Enough,” he said, tone edged with steel. “I don’t care which one of you goes. Just make contact with her. Find out what she knows.”

And with that, the ever-exhausted father of far too many turned on his heel and left the cave.

The second Bruce left the cave, the tension snapped like a rubber band. Both Jason and Dick turned in perfect sync, glaring at each other with the intensity of a pending brawl.

“I’m going,” they declared at the same time.

Jason scoffed, folding his arms. “How do you even know her?”

“She was my date!” Dick snapped, voice pitching upward as his patience immediately vanished.

Jason blinked. “Wait—the one from that dating app?”

“You signed up for a dating app?!” Tim choked, spinning around so fast in his chair he nearly tipped over. His eyes were wide, scandalized. “You?!”

Dick didn’t even spare him a glance. “Yes. And we hit it off.”  he said, sharp and pointed. “Now, how do you know her?”

“She’s the civilian I pulled out of that alley last week,” he said coolly, voice dipping into something just shy of smug. He tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Should’ve walked her home, dickhead.”

Dick’s jaw clenched.

Jason smirked. “We grabbed coffee today.”

Dead silence.

And then—because he never knew when to shut up—Jason kept going. “She even kissed me.”

Dick’s expression shifted like someone had just pulled the rug out from under him. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing with something sharp and disbelieving.

“You’re lying.”

Jason raised a brow. “Am I? You really think I’d lie about something like that?”

“I think you’d do whatever it takes to piss me off.”

Jason shrugged, unbothered. “That too.”

Tim opened his mouth, then closed it. Slowly wheeled himself back in his chair like he was watching a bomb about to go off.

Dick took a step forward. “She wouldn’t—”

“She did,” Jason cut in. “Not that it’s any of your business now.”

“That’s exactly what makes it my business,” Dick snapped.

“Funny. She didn’t seem to think so.”

“Alright,” Tim said quickly, raising both hands. “Before someone gets thrown into a wall—can we maybe, I don’t know, not have a turf war over a girl who clearly doesn’t belong to either of you?”

Neither of them looked at him.

Dick’s eyes narrowed into slits. “That’s it. I’m going to the gala.”

“Like hell you are!”

Tim raised a hand like a kid in class. “How about… rock, paper, scissors?”

Two sets of eyes pinned him to his seat. He shrank back a little. Then, after a beat, both brothers turned to each other.

There was a long pause.

Then, without a word, they stepped forward, hands balling into fists, resting on their open palms.

“On shoot,” Jason muttered.

“Obviously,” Dick snapped.

And they went.

“Rock, paper, scissors—shoot.”

Scissors. Paper.

Jason cursed under his breath.

“Always with the scissors,” Dick said smugly, shaking his head like an older brother who’d won this game a hundred times before. “You never learn.”

Jason’s glare could’ve peeled paint. But Dick was already sauntering off, throwing over his shoulder, “Better luck next time, Little Wing.”

“Best two out of three!” Jason called, stepping after him.

Dick scoffed. “I won fair and square. No one likes a sore loser.”

Jason grumbled something under his breath—low, unintelligible—but Tim was pretty sure it included cheater, rigged, and next time I’m bringing a taser.

“Fine!” Jason snapped, crossing his arms with a tight huff. “But I want ground rules.”

Dick paused and turned around. He arched a curious brow, arms folded across his chest, then gave a slow nod, signalling Jason to continue. “Go on.”

“First—we don’t tell her we know each other.”

Dick nodded without hesitation. “Agreed.”

Jason took a step forward, the tension between them tightening like a wire. “We stay out of each other’s way. And I don’t think either of us should sleep with her—not until she makes her decision. Things’ll get messy.”

Behind them, Tim mock-gagged. “Ugh. Can we not?” he muttered. He didn’t even want to think about his brothers in that context. He didn’t care that they were adopted—they were still his brothers, and thinking about them doing that was just gross on every possible level.

Dick held Jason’s gaze, steady and unflinching. “Fine.”

Jason’s tone shifted, quieter now—less about pride, more about principle. “And if this starts to mess with the case, or with us, we end it. Doesn’t matter where we’re at.”

Dick’s posture shifted slightly, his jaw tightening. But he nodded. “Done.”

They stared at each other for a beat.

“Whoever she chooses,” Dick said, calm and clear, “the other backs off. No hard feelings.”

Jason’s fingers curled at his sides. A long pause.

Then, he nodded. “May the best man win.”

Dick’s gaze didn’t waver. “For her. The best man for her.”

Meanwhile, Tim watched the entire exchange unfold like a tennis match—head swivelling between brothers, eyes wide. He looked personally offended that no one had handed him popcorn.

“I’ve got to tell the others,” he muttered under his breath, already planning the group chat text.

Dick left for patrol not long after, slipping his domino mask into place with the smug confidence of a man who thought he’d just secured a win.

Jason, who didn’t need to suit up for another hour, turned to Tim with a groan and a scowl. “Alright, nerd. How did you even know where to look for that flagged experiment?”

Tim blinked, caught off guard. “Oh. Uh—it was actually Damian.”

Jason’s eye twitched.

“He said the doctor might be a potential lead. Once we ran her name, we found the connection to her brother and his research. Looked solid.”

Jason exhaled slowly through his nose. Of course it was Damian. The demon spawn never let anything go. And this was exactly what he got for digging into her file on Batcave servers of all places. He might as well have slapped a neon sign across the screen that read I’m hiding something, please investigate. The one girl he was actually interested in—and she was tangled up in one of their ugliest cases to date.

Jason turned to Tim, narrowing his eyes like a man about to drag someone else into his personal war.

“You’re gonna help me.”

Tim blinked. “With… what exactly?”

“Reconning Dick.”

Tim frowned. “Didn’t you two literally just agree not to interfere?”

“I’m not interfering,” Jason said, far too quickly. “I’m making sure he sticks to the rules.”

Tim gave him a long, deadpan look. “Uh-huh.”

Jason just stared.

Tim sighed, resigned. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Nope.”

Another sigh. Tim rolled his chair back from the console like it was a death march. “I need a vacation. Or a therapist.”

Jason clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a real one, Replacement.”

“Don’t call me that.”

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where is this love? I can’t see it, I can’t touch it. I can’t feel it. I can hear it. I can hear some words, but I can’t do anything with your easy words.

when fratboy!satoru takes your virginity you kind of expect him to be an ass about it. he's cocky as it is, and has a habit of gassing himself up too much when it comes to his... skills in the bedroom. if you're not listening to him talk about how he's the strongest, you're listening to him talk about how he's the biggest.

being the only virgin of your friend group was starting to grate on you and... a small part of you might've wanted to find out if there's any bite to satoru's bark. it's not like the two of you were dating or anything, but you felt comfortable enough to walk up to him one day during lunch and ask, in front of his best friend:

"will you take my virginity?"

maybe you expected him to blush. or freeze up. or at least trip over his words. but instead, the stupid white-haired prick looked up at you with the most relaxed expression possible and shrugged.

"okay."

and that's how you ended up here, sitting criss-cross applesauce on his messy dorm-room bed with his tongue halfway down your throat. a few empty cans of beer and abandoned cheat sheets lay strewn over his floor, and you hate yourself for letting this be the backdrop of your entry into the sex-having life.

but you can’t hate yourself for long because as he runs a hand up your thigh and under your skirt, you start to feel more excited than you thought you’d feel. he pushes you back, slots his knee between your thighs and bites at your bottom lip before trailing down to your throat.

still, it’s satoru, so when he pushes your panties to the side and feels just how wet you are for him, he laughs. “you get this wet when you touch yourself or is all of this just for me?”

“shut up,” you groan as he nips at the skin of your throat and gently runs his finger through your folds and up to your clit. you’re surprised he knows where your clit is, even.

and he’s not wrong—you’ve never been wet like this before. you can feel just how damp the fabric of your panties are you as satoru pulls them down your thighs and hikes your skirt up to get a clearer look at your soaked cunt.

“pretty,” he licks his lips. “wannna taste her, that okay baby?”

his eyes search yours for consent and you’re stunned for a moment as he waits for ‘enthusiastic consent’. you didn’t expect this sort of check-in from a frat boy. your nod seems enthusiastic enough to him, but just for clarity—“use your words.”

“yes. please, gojo.”

“satoru,” he corrects you. “want to hear that name when you cum on my tongue. cant believe no ones tasted her before.”

the use of referring to your pussy as ‘her’ is odd but quickly overlooked when he delves into your pussy like he’s dehydrated. tongue flat against your heat just to flex and circle around your clit. he sucks and bites a little and pulls you to your first orgasm in nasty speeds.

you cum on his tongue whilst his eyes bore into yours from between your thighs. white hair pulled out of his face by your hand as you tug the strands in hopes that he’ll stop licking at your overstimulated clit. it takes until you’re shaking for him to finally pull back and free his angry cock from his pants.

you think you gasp when you see it. he said he was big but you didn’t think he was a truthful man in the slightest. his cock is so heavy it doesn’t even stand at full mast—it fights gravity. satoru sees the look on your face and instead of sporting a shit-eating grin like you expect, he climbs over you and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“let’s stop here?” he asks. “we could watch a movie. oooh what about die hard?”

you giggle, your nerves melting a little at his words. “i’m okay, i want this. i am not graduating as a virgin.”

satoru snorts and, after rolling a condom on, gently pries your legs apart enough for him to slot his wait in between them. he guides your ankles to link behind his back and slowly runs the tip of his cock through your slick folds. “tell me if you need me to stop,” he says. “just relax. i’ve got you, baby.”

you actually manage to relax a little, focus on the feeling of being stretched as satoru slowly pushes into you until his tip is completely hidden in your cunt. it’s uncomfortable, but not unbearable. “keep going.”

one of his long fingers dips down to rub soft circles over your clit to relax you a little more as he pushes deeper. you’ve never felt so full, so sore yet desperate for more… you wonder if it’s always going to feel like this, or if it’s just because satoru is the one breaking you open to find pleasure in your insides.

he lets out a pretty moan as he bottoms out inside of you, the weight of his heavy balls resting against your ass as he stills and catches your lips in a wet kiss. his tongue slips into your mouth, runs over your teeth and pushes against your tongue as he slowly draws out of you and then, with a grunt that you taste, snaps his hips forwards into you.

that hurts, but there’s an odd stitch of pleasure in the way he’s broken you open. “sorry,” he speaks against your lips. “it’s better that i just got it out of the way, it can start feeling real good soon. gonna make you cum on my cock, baby. you want that?”

you nod, eyes staring into his as your foreheads meet. satoru nods back, licking his lips and smiling. “yeah? you wanna be stuffed full, huh? always knew you were filthy. but i’m the only one that gets to see it.”

his arrogance pulls at your lips. “until i fuck the next guy.”

snap. his cock splits you open at that, and though you wince and screw your face us, you’re letting out moans made for porn too. his finger on your clit starts working a little faster as he draws back again just to drive into you even harder.

“no,” he dips his head down to bite at your neck. “not until you fuck the next guy. i mean you can try, baby, but it’s not happening.”

“ngh, what do you mean?”

another thrust into you sends you further up the bed. you’re sure you look a mess but satoru looks down at you with such wide blown eyes that you could be convinced you’re from the heavens. “not giving you up that easy,” he groans. “you know, i fucked someone last week just because they had your name. got to moan it without being slapped. again.”

your hand flies up to his chest, almost in an attempt to slow his now mean pace. “wait you—ngh god—you like me?”

“i’m far fucking past like,” he moans, hips starting to stutter. any discomfort has faded into glorious pleasure. your stomach starts to tighten again and you know you’re close enough that he’s going to try and time your orgasms. “you’re so perfect. so much better than i imagined.”

your eyes roll back a little at the thought of satoru fucking his fist late at night to the thought of you. how nonchalant he was when you asked him to take your virginity, you wonder if he went home last night and stroked himself to the sheer anticipation of being inside of you.

“satoru i’m gonna—”

he cuts you off with a deep kiss. it’s sex and want and lust, but it’s also soft in a way you can’t describe—maybe even a little anxious after his confession. it might just be his pending orgasm, but you swear his lips tremble between yours.

his cock throbs as he drills it into you, hits your most sensitive spot with every single thrust. it’s like he already has you mapped out, because you’re both cumming in tandem with each other before long.

a part of you aches to feel his cum spill into you instead of the condom he wears, to be claimed and filled by his seed over and over. would he fuck it back into you? clean you off with his talented tongue? would he plug you with his cock until he’s ready to overfill you with a second load?

he moans into your mouth and pulls back a little to revel in your fucked out expression. your legs still wrap around his waist, boxing him in and keeping him close. you worry that in typical frat boy fashion he’ll make an excuse and run off to recount the fuck with his friends. but satoru pecks at your lips, then your chin, then down your neck again.

“what are you doing?” you ask, vision slightly blurred from the intensity of your orgasm.

“gonna make you cum again,” he smiles against your skin. “didn’t you hear?”

“hear what?”

he pulls back to look at you, a soft smile pulling at his pretty lips. “that if you cum at least five times when you lose your virginity, you’ll fall in loooove.”

helping out 🌱

shti dawg
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