the funniest part of any Robin meeting the JL is that every Robin is so distinctly different from the previous one in terms of personality and vibes that the league literally gets backlash. and like, I don't blame them. not to mention that they are non-meta children that dress as a traffic light and fight crime alongside batman in gotham on a nightly basis. i'd also be a bit concerned.
Batman, literally The Night of Gotham personified in the League's eyes, coming into a JL meeting: This is Robin, my crime-fighting partner.
11-year-old Dick Grayson, dressed in the brightest primary colours possible, vaguely hidden murder behind those eyes, never stops moving even for a moment: Hi!
Superman: That's a child. That's-- Bats that is a child. You let a child--?
Batman, deadpan: You try to stop him. Would you rather he try and murder a grown man with a wire?
Batman: This is Robin.
12-year-old Jason Todd, with the biggest grin on his face, about 3 books in his hand, stars in his eyes and a distinct street-kid drawl: Hey!!!
Green Lantern: That's ... that's a different child. What??
Jason: I stole his tires :)
Batman: Tried to.
Jason, stage whispering to the League: basically did.
Green Lantern: that is a different kid, right?? I'm not seeing shit??
Batman: This is Robin.
14-year-old Tim Drake, bo staff clutched in his hand, a wary and tired expression on his face, more on the quiet side, the literal walking definition of don't judge a book by it's cover: hello
Flash: Where do you even find these--
Tim: I found myself.
Batman: This is Robin.
17-year-old Stephanie Brown, literally blonde, with a shit-eating grin, eyes full of nothing but mischief and the most explosive personality you've ever seen: hiya!!
Superman: I give up.
Stephanie: I know, I have that amazing effect on people.
Batman: This is Robin.
13-year-old Damian Wayne, a literal wet cat that will hiss at you, has a sword, the most judgemental stare you'll get from a teenager, ready to jump anyone there:
Green Lantern: WHY DOES HE HAVE A SWORD?!
Batman: ... he came with the sword.
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nanami kento comes home on a saturday afternoon, hands full of groceries and hair freshly cut. in the distance, he hears his precious wife humming along to her favorite soundtrack. you must not have heard him come in. he smiles to himself, setting the groceries on the counter, but not unloading them. that can wait. right now, he wants to hold you.
he slips out of his shoes, padding quietly to the laundry room where you are folding towels. you have your back to him, headphones lodged in your ears. as nanami gets closer, the music bleeding from your headphones becomes audible. he chuckles softly. no matter how many times he tells you it's bad for your ears, you insist on listening to your music at just below full volume.
snaking his arms around your waist, you jump at the sudden contact. nanami presses his chest against your back as you take out your headphones, leaning into his touch. you sway in silence for a moment, nanami resting his chin on your shoulder. when you turn to face him, your expression changes at the sight of his hair.
"your hair," you state dumbly. "you cut it."
"yes," your husband muses. "is there something wrong with it?"
"no, no!" you assure nanami, studying his hair. "i just wasn't expecting it. you normally have me do it, which you know i don't mind doing."
"i know, but i didn't want to bother you on your cleaning day."
your expression softens at his words. nanami, your ever loving, ever caring husband, always thinking about you before himself. you reach one hand up, smoothing the hair down the back of his neck. as you bring your hand up, the freshly cut hair pricks your palm, and nanami lets out a low hiss.
you immediately apologize, pulling away. "did that hurt?"
"yes, but it's okay. it felt... good," nanami confessed. "... do it again. please." his voice is thick and demanding, and you obey without hesitation.
this time, you use just the tips of your fingertips to graze his undercut, beginning at the base of his neck. his breathing quickens as you continue to to run your hands through his undercut, going up and down, switching from one hand to both, thumbs caressing the sides of the cut. the laundry room fills with his melodic whimpers and faint groans. his eyes are shut tight, teeth digging into his bottom lip.
"fuck..." he cusses lowly.
"you okay, nani?" you giggle, stopping momentarily. his eyes flash open, pupils blown. "kento?"
"let's go to the bedroom," he insisted, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the master bedroom. you barely have time react before nanami pushes you back on to the bed, practically ripping your leggings off.
"kento, what are you doin-" you try to protest, his hands clamping around your wrist and bringing them down to grip his hair. his head disappears between your leg, lips latching around your clit. involuntarily, your fingers tighten around his sharp undercut. he moans into your cunt, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body.
from then on, nanami kento always got an undercut.
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