Drew My Mains As A Small Gift To Myself Cause School's Starting Again 🙏

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.

੭୧ chishiya with an introverted reader... . ۫

chishiya shuntaro x fem!reader (requested)

— warnings: fluff, maybe ooc chishiya, beach arc, fem pronouns, niragi doing niragi things, typical aib violence, swallowing razor blades lol...

— summary: chishiya is very enticed by the fact you seem to trust him so much, he can't help but tease you.

— word count: 1.6k

you were known around the beach, specifically for being on the quiet side, avoiding any compromising relationships, platonic or not, with people around you, knowing that would only be a flaw between others, especially in a place like the borderlands. people like this always managed to stand out more than intended between others.

it only half worked, though. when you first arrived in this sick world, it didn't take long for you to get invited to the beach, which you reluctantly accepted since there weren't that many options for you.

everyone there seemed untrustworthy and deceitful, especially the group of militants. so you decided to keep to your side, having a few acquaintances here and there but nothing too profound.

that was until a blonde guy named chishiya decided to do the job himself and approach you. you were never aware of the reason, but at this point, you didn't care. your only goal in a place like this was to never let your guard down next to others, but unfortunately, this man managed to make you. he could be using you all this time just to have someone to sacrifice when the needed time comes, and you would fall right onto it given how much trust you had put in him.

being friends with chishiya later on drove you to become friends with kuina as well, but still, you weren't as close to her as you were with the guy.

it turns out you were simply introverted, and having someone to confide in ended up helping you in a place like this, contrary to your beliefs. you'd continuously get teased by niragi for being so shy and reserved with yourself, but that didn't happen with chishiya. you could tell he was quite curious about your behavior as well; however, he didn't press it on you. 

this reflected on the time you two spent together. you ended up sticking next to him more than you realized. people around the beach would be surprised if they went on a walk and saw one of you both alone. kuina was also after him sometimes, but it didn't compare to you guys's proximity. this only made him seem more suspicious, given that he only kept two people close, and even so, he would appear slightly reluctant to anything you guys did together.

before you could realize it, you were practically blabbering your mouth out whenever you were both alone, contrasting the personalities you made up around other members. and surprisingly, chishiya didn't complain, instead just staying silent for most of the time you talked. you weren't sure if he was even listening most of the time, apart from some occasional comments he decided to add when wanting to share his opinion about whatever matter caught your eye that day.

as of now, chishiya was sitting on the chair by his desk as you lied down on his bed, looking at the ceiling. his hands were moving around on a device, and you had no idea what half of its purpose was. sometimes, you would try and peek to see whatever he was doing with it, but upon recognizing the usual pliers and wires he must love so much, given he "spends more time with them than with you" (as you dramatically proclaimed a few days ago), you just gave up.

he looked very focused right now, and you knew better than to disturb him at times like these, but your boredom somehow managed to get the lead as your mind looked around for a chat theme.

"did you know that the human stomach can dissolve razor blades?" you ask out of the blue, your gaze still fixated on the ceiling.

he did not answer. instead, he stopped his movements around the device in his hands and gave you a side look. you could feel his gaze, so you immediately tried to explain.

"i'm not planning on anything!" you said it with a hurried voice, coming out with a tone of humor. "it's just a scientific fact."

he sighed, his attention turning back to the box to which he added two metals. it was now much harder to guess what the hell he was trying to make out of it.

"no, i did not know that." chishiya replied, his eyes never leaving the gadget he held as he kept fixing it. his voice was heard again shortly after. "but it's quite obvious, actually. the ph level in a human stomach varies between 1 and 3, which means it is very acidic. you could get away with swallowing a lot of things."

you could tell by the way he spoke that he tried to use easier words to make you understand, and honestly, that only made your heart beat faster and your cheeks redden. 

"that doesn't mean you can do it." he stopped his movements for a second, talking with a stern voice, but quickly went back. he really looked more preoccupied with the piece of equipment.

you gasped as if you were offended by his remark, a chuckle leaving your lips right after as you rolled around on his bed. "i would never swallow anything suspicious. i'm not that insane."

"you considered pressing a button that had "don't press" written on top of it." he answered without thinking twice.

you laughed it off again, remembering how he had to physically pull you away from the tempting button you found together on a game you played. it consisted of finding the exit to a labyrinth as a killer chased the players. you knew where the exit was from the very beginning since, before entering the game, chishiya had the brilliant idea of going to a point high enough to study the whole arena. when you both finally finished the game, someone ended up pressing it, and the whole place blew up. at least you found out what it did.

"come on, i was curious!" you complained, still giggling, when the memories of chishiya being so done with you came back. "i would never swallow a razor blade, you know that."

"not even if it had "don't swallow" written on top of it?" he ironically asked, doing his best to make his voice come out nonchalant, but you could basically hear the smirk he held.

"chishiya!" you whined out louder, starting to laugh again.

after your fun died out, you got up from the bed and stopped beside him, a hand holding onto the back of his chair. "what miraculous electrical device are you making this time?"

at this point, chishiya didn't even question your choice of words, instead keeping his gaze on the item. "it's a taser," he replied sharply. "so i can bring some sense into the heads of idiots like you."

"i hate you." you admitted, rolling your eyes and turning around with a sigh, lying flat dead on his bed again. both of you knew you were not telling the truth, and he was about to tease you for it.

until he was brutally broken out of his line of thinking by an equally brutal niragi slamming the door open. you flinched at the sound, while chishiya just closed his eyes and sighed, frustrated.

"oi. executive meeting by eight o'clock. make sure not to skip it again, or the hatter might not like it." he exclaimed, referring to chishiya, not bothering about keeping his voice down or even lowering his gun to appear a bit more sociable. "oh. look who we have here..." now referring to you.

as niragi's eyes fell upon you, your eyebrows immediately furrowed as you looked away, sitting up on chishiya's bed, avoiding as much contact with him as you could. 

"why are you always after this guy? there are so many better men in a place like this, and you choose him?" niragi asked with that sharp voice of his, which you profoundly despised, as he approached and pointed his gun at you. you didn't bother looking at it.

your cheeks were pretty warm from this whole interaction. you weren't scared of him physically hurting you, since chishiya wouldn't allow it and niragi knew it, but confrontations were always awkward with him.

you didn't even realize that chishiya finally let go of the device in hand, turning around in the chair and watching the scene with not too much interest. "she isn't that fond of me. actually, she just claimed to hate me."

your mouth fell agape as you looked his way with a gaze that could kill. you noticed he had a smirk, and all you wanted to do in that moment was wipe it out of his face, but you knew best with niragi there. 

"oh, so she talks? now that's a surprise." niragi lowered his gun to his sides, chuckling at the end of his sentence. you could only lower your head in embarrassment and avoid any more conflicts.

"well, i'll be taking my leave. thanks for the attention, you both!" niragi yelled ironically, slamming the door shut behind him.

and as soon as he made his way out of the room, you turned your attention to chishiya, who had already mentally prepared himself to deal with your talking.

"i might not be the one dissolving a blade in my stomach, but i know who will." you said, trying your best to sound mad, which probably didn't work out because he didn't move a bit from his usual position.

"well, niragi might need to take care then." he said, turning around in his chair, back to his own world.

"i wasn't talking about him!" you rolled your eyes, fuming and concluding that it was useless to argue with him. 

in truth, your tantrum didn't last much longer than 5 minutes, since soon you were already chattering about whatever came into your mind next. even if it seemed like not, chishiya was always listening, often adding a comment or two, but at this point, it was routine for both. it was entertaining to him to see how different you could be depending on the people present in the room and how you became much more comfortable with him around. he took pride in that.

— a/n: waaah this was so fun to write!!! i love making chishiya an insufferable one so i hope this was okay and fitted your likings... i think i ran away a little bit from the topic but i wanted to make chishiya as in character as possible because imo that's what makes him so interesting. ohh i love a jackass of a man......

Based on this tweet!!

it takes two | sylus & mc

sum: “sylus likes you,” she says offhandedly, toying with the second button of your blouse. you scoff. humor her, lips pulling. “what makes you say that?” “because i like you.”

cw: non-mc reader, female reader, girls love girls, cunnilingus, p-in-v, threesome, fingering, explicit language, clit slapping, oocness, 3.2k of filth, spawned by this ask, not proofread, mdni

now playing: bolero - bathe

Emcee’s smiling, and you know this won’t end well.

It’s mischievous how she sways her hips like that, pushing through Lux’s private room like she owns it. The other dancers part for her like a school of fish as she makes her way to you, slinking away like they know something you don’t.

She plops onto your lap like you’re her throne as the swinging doors slide shut, siphoning the air from your lungs. Drapes her arms around your shoulders, gaze bleeding sin. 

Instinctively, your hands drop to her waist to brace her, and you bounce her on your lap into a more comfortable position. Sink back into the red leather cushions of the loveseat, her body sliding further up your thighs with the shift.

Her smile is infectious. Melts away your surprise, making way for a sly curve of your lips. You get a whiff of her perfume, the conditioner in her hair, as she leans close until your noses bump, hair tickling your collarbones. 

You’ve got a face full of teeth and bad intentions. Her laughter is bewitching, furling in your stomach like the smoke occupying the red-tinged atmosphere, and the other girls trickle out of the room with knowing cants to their lips over her shoulder. 

“I’ve got an idea,” she murmurs beneath the thumping music, blurring back into focus, breath fanning over your already warmed cheeks, your lips. 

You lift a brow, studying her mouth. Back to her eyes. “Really?” you reply, intrigued. Enamored.

She nods slowly, a hand slipping from your shoulder to splay against your sternum. Fingers the second button of your blouse until it slips free.

“Sylus likes you,” she says offhandedly.

You scoff, sticky, disbelieving. She must’ve been drinking, because there’s no way in hell your boss likes you like that. Not when he looks at her like she’s the center of his universe, the star he orbits in slow, methodical rotations. 

Sure, you’ve quietly pined for him for years. Followed in his shadow like an obedient mastiff, ever faithful, ever watchful. But you could never imagine him returning your affections. Not with your hands stained red and scars littering your skin.

You humor her, lips pulling. “What makes you say that?” 

Emcee laughs, throwing her head back, hair spilling off her shoulders, as if you’ve said the funniest shit. You get a look at her throat, the tendons jumping there. Your mouth waters. Thighs twitch beneath her warm weight.

You track the glide of her fingers along your cheek, the slope of your jaw, in your peripheral vision until they curl around your chin, tilting your head back, and you’re faced with irises that bubble like heated liquid. 

“Because I like you.”

You’ve barely time to process the implications on her tongue before she’s pushing it into your mouth. Soft yet insistent. Commanding in a way that leaves you fucking spinning, out of your mind, sighing all hot into her mouth, fingers tight on her hips.

She kisses like bonfires and sea sprays. Like peaches growing beneath the sun, like drive-in movies in the summer, a band-aid on nicked skin. She sucks the air from your lungs into her own body like it’s hers. You can’t get a grip on things, for she’s shifting on your lap until she’s straddling you, full thighs bracketing yours, hands cupping your cheeks to keep your face in place.

You kiss her with equal fervency. Or at least, you try to. You pull, stroke, and bunch up the back of her blouse in favor of the supple glide of her skin, lost in the wet swipe of her tongue, in the slow-weighted roll of her hips, in the husky, pleasured sounds she bleeds into your mouth.

She’s pulling at the lapels of your blazer, and you catch her cue, leaning forward to help her tear the offending garment off your shoulders. You pulse beneath her, her mouth slanting possessively over yours, fingers threading into your hair, pulse roaring, nipples unbearably tight. 

Emcee tears away from the hot suction of your mouth with a sticky click, and you catch a glimpse of her lips glossed with spit in the low light. She blisters your chin with pecks before she finds her way to your neck. Sucks and nibbles on your throat, tongue licking out to ease welting skin, before she’s at it again—a vampire trying to siphon your life force through your skin. 

You exhale, craning your neck back, eyes sliding shut. You don’t know what you’ve done to warrant such treatment. But you don’t deter it, fingers curling around her ass to encourage her to grind against you. And she’s ruthless in her assault, bearing down on your lap, pussies dragging across each other, drawing the sweetest little noise from your throat. A laugh, disbelieving, breathy.

She busies herself with pulling your blouse buttons free as her mouth seals around your pulse point, sucking, licking, wide, wet. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been at this—making out with your partner, your charge, like some hormonal teen. But your head lolls forward, the space beyond her shoulder blurring and bending until you’re able to make out discernible shapes and colors through the haze, and, oh shit— 

“Really?” rolls a voice so deep, so enthralling, it disturbs the dust particles around you. Like the crackle of a fire burning through the underbrush, and you feel it curdling in your chest. 

Shock ripples through you once you put things together. Cold mortification. You sit up, Emcee not at all perturbed by his entry, by your rigidness, her fingers crawling over your sides and down to your hips after she’s pushed your shirt open, baring your torso to the crisp air.

Your mouth spills open, a slurry of excuses on your tongue, face heated. 

Sylus watches the pair of you from the bridge of his nose, arms crossed over a broad chest, finger tapping his bicep, hip cocked out like an impatient parent. He quirks an offended brow, lips thinned with mild irritation, and he’s a dangerous, dark cutout of power amid the steady scrawl of smoke. Satan incarnate, limned by Lux’s customary red glow, the columns casting ominous shadows across his face, that right eye glowing a corrupted shade of scarlet. 

You wince when Emcee sucks on your shoulder, the wet sound of it jarring, and a pitiful noise is pinched from your throat. Before you can offer an explanation, beg for your life, Sylus sighs, dropping his hands at his sides, seemingly resigned. He crosses the room in measured strides, like a panther prowling through a jungle, not once releasing you from the intoxicating pull of his gaze.

The cushions on the loveseat dip beneath his weight when he plops beside you, draping a long arm along the backrest, still staring like he’s witnessing the ultimate betrayal. What audacity you two must have, getting along without him.

You watch with a constricted throat as he snatches up the whiskey glass, stained with condensation, you’d been nursing earlier, dumping its contents down his throat in one go.

He scowls like a child who didn’t get his way after he sets the glass down with a definitive clack. And finally, finally, with your cheeks in her hands, Emcee draws back, face smooshed up against yours, smile wicked, playful. All teeth and sin, like a youth caught doing something they were clearly warned against.

Your pulse thunders in your ears. Mouth hovers around words that never come. Sylus could kill you with a snap of his fingers for touching his girl like this. For being so brazen in his club, in his territory, getting all handsy without his permission. 

You flinch, anticipating your demise. But it doesn’t come, and you peek an eye open, surprised to see he’s redirected his ire to the little temptress in your lap.

There’s something in their staredown. A quiet exchange you’re not in on as they study each other’s faces, brows and mouths twitching as if they’re inwardly mulling over something together. A war of the minds, a muted battle, almost like telepathy, and you’re their unwilling hostage. 

You feel like prey between two predators. Carrion waiting to be picked clean, hands stiff and wide around Emcee’s waist. She giggles again, her breasts warm and doughy as they push up against yours, and you cast her a warning look. This is no time to be laughing. No time to taunt the Devil when your life's on the line.

Sylus’ gaze slides to you, and you’re stricken. Something cold spills into your belly, branching down to occupy your nether regions at the weight his eyes carry. They’re hooded. Slip into a mysterious shade of garnet as he tilts his head down to scrutinize you, lips slightly parting, brows pinched in the inner corners. 

You blink wildly when, in one fluid motion, Sylus snatches Emcee from your lap onto his. You’re remiss of the warmth of her body despite the moment, watching wide-eyed as Sylus tugs her close to nip at her throat.

She snorts, burying her fingers in his collar, clinging to him as he dips her back to bite her shoulder. 

You feel like you shouldn’t be here. Like you’re impeding on something intimate, a glacial spike of disappointment lancing through you. But those eyes slide to you again, punching the air from your lungs, petrifying you. And you can’t recall a time you’ve ever seen him so…

Ravenous? Needy? Towards you?

There is no warning. No preamble when long digits curl around the nape of your neck, when rigid features pan in. He tugs you to him, sealing his lips to yours, tongue probing the wet cavern of your mouth, swallowing up the surprised little noise you make. 

Your shoulders drop once the shock peters. And you know you’ve lost your shit because you’re kissing him back. Your boss. Your employer. The focal point of your affections, your fantasies. You’re kissing him, tangling your tongues, pushing a breath into his mouth, tearing your fingers through his silken locks.

He groans into your mouth as if he’s waited lifetimes to kiss you. To experience you like this, and Emcee’s like a little imp, snickering as she occupies her fingers with unbuttoning his shirt, with sinking her teeth into his ear, dragging them across his lobe.

Sylus pulls away, lips imparting on a journey down your neck, blazing a path opposite where Emcee branded you. He sinks his teeth into your collarbone, and you toss your head back for the second time that night, breath all shaky, mind turning to smog. 

He alternates between kissing you and Emcee, and the positions are awkward as he tries his best to hold you both in the wide span of his arms on his lap. Tries his damndest to divvy up the attention, never leaving either of you enough time to catch your breath. 

You’re on your knees now on the cushions, lips sealed around his throat once Emcee’s set his pretty, warm ivory skin free. She’s opposite you, licking up his neck, along his jaw, and you pulse when he releases a shuddering breath, voice all ragged, pretty lashes sweeping over inflamed cheeks.

He’s gripping you both. Palms full of ass as the pair of you render him speechless with the devious scrape of your teeth, hands smoothing down his sculpted chest, his stomach, to knead the thick of him pulsing in his pants.

You part every so often from the salty tang of his skin to kiss Emcee, tongues wriggling, messy, giggling. Sylus humps into your kneading palms when you get too distracted, sighing so pretty, voice so sexy, so guttural, so needy. 

He’s leaning towards you now, ingesting you with those dangerous eyes before he pushes you down. Eases you onto your back, and Emcee’s crawling off his lap so he can moor you to the loveseat with his weight.

He’s kissing you again before you can catch your breath. Like snuffed out hearth fires, like the shifting gears of a muscle car, like the welcomed burn of brandy at the back of your throat. He notches himself between your splayed open legs, rolling his hips until the thick of him throbs against your swollen labia, and you see stars.

He’s commanding in everything he does. A steady, comforting pressure, swallowing you whole with overwhelming heat and the meticulous stroke of his palms. And you feel you’re dreaming, pulling at his neck, his shoulders, your body undulating like the lazy lap of waves against him. 

You almost forget she’s in the room—the source of this debauchery. Almost, until she’s maneuvering herself behind you on the loveseat, settling your head onto her lap, petting through your hair, laughing so sweet. 

Sylus flows like smoke, perching himself on sturdy palms to kiss her over you. And where you should feel left out, jealous of their unspoken bond, you burn, watching their mouths fuse, their tongues dance, hearing the sounds of their pleasured sighs taking place overhead.

He returns his attention to you, forgoing your mouth to brand your throat with kisses, down your shoulder, towards the swell of one breast. 

You arch against his mouth when he bites down, eyes hooded, peering up at the beauty overtop you. She’s all smiles, messy hair, swollen lips, before she angles herself down to steal the taste of your lips. And she’s got your nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, twisting through the lacy drag of your bra. 

You bite your lip, so deliciously out of it. The attention’s too much, the scenery hazy, your mind slowly disconnecting itself from your body, ascending.

Sylus is on a mission, blistering kisses down the ripple of your rib cage, groaning with each press of his lips like you’re a meal worth savoring. Down, down, down he ventures, teeth scraping the meat of your belly near your navel, before he lines the stretch of skin just above the cut of your slacks with reverent kisses. 

You lift your hips to help him pull your slacks off once he’s unlatched your belt and snatched the button free. And you can’t focus with his lips so close to your cunt, with his breath so hot, kissing where labia meets thigh, groaning at the earthy scent permeating through your damp panties.

Emcee pulls your tits free from your bra, kneading them in lazy arcs, testing their weight, their fullness, pushing them together, occasionally swiping her thumbs over your puckered nips. 

Her gaze simmers like heated liquid when she wets her fingers with her tongue, doubling down on her nipple-pinching efforts. And you’re rocking your hips, one hand reaching up for purchase of her blouse. Something to cling to while Sylus swipes his tongue up the seam of your cunt. 

Before you can think, Emcee’s on her knees beside you on the floor, licking your nipple into her mouth, massaging your unattended breast with her free hand, gaze unyielding as she watches you like something to be devoured. A meal to be licked clean, not a morsel left to spare. 

Sylus has your panties off and flung somewhere on the stage in the room’s center. And he’s gazing at you with equal desire, drawing your thigh onto his brawny shoulder, nosing your pretty, sticky cunt. 

He breathes against your muff, the heat of his breath making you twitch and throb, and you wiggle your hips pathetically, not sure if you want his mouth on you or off. 

In hindsight, this still feels so very wrong. Sandwiched between your boss and your partner. The catalyst for your heartbreak and your envy. But is it really so wrong if they’re both here, ravaging you like a prime cut of meat, writing the most sinful words of all against your body with their mouths? With the reverent scrawl of their fingers?

“Relax, sweetheart,” Emcee coos, dragging her mouth to pay similar homage to your other nipple. “Let us take care of you for once,” she breathes around your teat, fingers sliding down your stomach to tap your swollen cunt.

Once, twice, and your hips surge off the couch. And Sylus is there with that hot, devastating mouth to catch you, groaning into you, palms cupping your ass to keep you sealed to him as he spreads you open with a sweltering, wide tongue.

Your fingers instinctively thread through his hair as you ruck your hips up, humping against his mouth, calves strained as you roll on the tips of your toes. 

A moan swells in your throat. Emcee swallows it, having abandoned your pretty tits to push her tongue into your mouth, to render you speechless. She disconnects to suck on your throat, your pulse point. Crawls back overtop you, her clothed pussy pushing into your face as she pitches herself forward to spread your labia apart for Sylus to draw your clit into his mouth.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes. You’re desperate, one hand curled around Emcee’s thick thigh, quietly beseeching her to put something in your mouth. You’re eager for a taste, eager to please, to reciprocate. She peers down at you with pitying eyes, lips crooked in a smirk.

She leaves you momentarily to shimmy out of her shorts, panties sticky and kicked off, before bracketing your head with either of her legs. The earthy aroma of her cunt fills your nostrils before you bury your face in her muff, sucking, licking, and nipping to mirror Sylus’s mouth on you.

You lose it when a thick finger tests the pucker of your cunt before dipping inside. He digs a little deeper with each pump of his finger until he’s knuckle-deep inside you. And you’re remiss of the hot suction of his mouth before the sticky click of mouths fusing reaches you. Instead of Sylus’ lips sealing to the seam of your cunt, a smaller mouth wraps around your clit, wrenching the sluttiest little sound from your throat.

They work in tandem to undo you. Alternate whose mouth is on you, whose fingers are in the tight clench of pussy, before both their tongues attack your clit. They feast on you, groaning like they’re appreciative of the meal. You can’t focus, releasing Emcee’s clit to bite down on her inner thigh, eyes screwed shut, fingers tight on her thighs.

You break at the seams, that sparkling feeling washing over you. Pins and needles in your extremities, vision white, voice lodged in your throat as you cum. 

By the time you return to your skin, float down, chasing the even push of your breath, Emcee’s hovering over your legs. Hands braced on either side of your hips, face screwed up in pleasure. 

She’s so gorgeous, panting like that, tits bouncing, Sylus’ fingers bruising, tight on her hips. She’s reaching for your hand as Sylus takes her from behind, and from your vantage point, you can’t tell where he ends and she begins. 

You twine your fingers with hers, still descending, and you smile. A sloppy, enamored, tired thing, holding tight as their grunts and whimpers salt the air. The clop of wet skin to skin stains the air, breathiness, pleasure,

Your gaze slides up, blurry, body boneless, and Sylus studies you, mouth hanging open with the effort of breathing. Even long after Emcee’s fallen onto her stomach, wrapping her lips around your clit for something to muffle her voice, the power of Sylus’ thrusts too much to bear, he watches you, a reverent, hungry gleam to his eyes. It borders predatory, a silent threat: you’re next. 

You throb, smile crazed, fingers filtering through Emcee’s hair to hold her in place.

You’re counting on it.

"Una aventura es más divertida Si huele a peligro…"

"Si te parece prudente Esta propuesta indecente…"🔥👑

Dragon…dragon

everyone's favorite furball

That's your stinky child too now, Dragon~

You can read the first part of this comic here.

As always, apologies for style inconsistencies I just never draw anyone looking the same *lol*

(I'm also not sure how I want to draw Crocodile >w< So I'm just saying that he's not sure yet either what to do. Does he need to be someone else to put as much distance between the pirate and the parent? But Dragon isn't doing that, so does he? Etc etc.)

Goth Family sticker set ⚔️🦅👻

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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