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- Apr 8, 2025
I want it to be a romantic fic, no lewdness whatsoever. Any use of ai will lead to immediate disqualification.
Best @Gay Joker x @We Are The Witches fanfic gets the solution.
- Thread starter Gay Joker
- Start date
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DankSmoker
kiwifarms.net
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- Nov 4, 2021
Gay Joker was eating a hamburger at Jack In The Box when he was approached by what appeared to be a holocaust survivor who introduced xerself as We Are The Witches, after calmly explaining for a half hour to GJ the benefits of a plant based diet, Gay Joker grew impatient, took WATW to the bathroom, forcefed xim sourdough jacks, and then strapped his face to WATW's ass like a human centipede as xis body poorly handled the influx of processed animal products and grease.
And they lived happily ever after.
And they lived happily ever after.
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- Dec 13, 2022
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- Feb 23, 2019
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- Jan 16, 2022
Here.
The hotel room is too small, the air too thick. Witch glares at the one damn bed, his jaw clenched so tight it aches. "This is bullshit," he mutters, tossing his bag onto the floor like it personally insulted him.
Joker watches with amusement, lounging against the dresser like this isn’t the most awkward situation known to man. "Oh, relax. It’s just a bed, not a cock."
Witch’s face twists. "The fuck is wrong with you?"
Joker just smirks, the bastard. He’s been relentless this whole trip. Little comments, lingering touches, that look in his eyes and Witch’s about to throw him out the window.
Night falls. They lie stiffly on opposite sides of the mattress, neither speaking, both painfully aware of the inches between them. Then Joker leaned in, voice low. "I know you don’t hate me."
Witch’s jaw tightened. "You don’t know shit."
Joker grinned. "Prove it."
And before Witch could react, Joker’s lips were on his. Soft, warm, insistent. Witch froze, every muscle in his body locking up. Then, against his own will, his hand fisted in Joker’s shirt.
He broke the kiss with a ragged inhale, face burning. "That’s it," he growled. "Once. Don’t fucking push it."
"Sure, Witch. Once."
Joker watches with amusement, lounging against the dresser like this isn’t the most awkward situation known to man. "Oh, relax. It’s just a bed, not a cock."
Witch’s face twists. "The fuck is wrong with you?"
Joker just smirks, the bastard. He’s been relentless this whole trip. Little comments, lingering touches, that look in his eyes and Witch’s about to throw him out the window.
Night falls. They lie stiffly on opposite sides of the mattress, neither speaking, both painfully aware of the inches between them. Then Joker leaned in, voice low. "I know you don’t hate me."
Witch’s jaw tightened. "You don’t know shit."
Joker grinned. "Prove it."
And before Witch could react, Joker’s lips were on his. Soft, warm, insistent. Witch froze, every muscle in his body locking up. Then, against his own will, his hand fisted in Joker’s shirt.
He broke the kiss with a ragged inhale, face burning. "That’s it," he growled. "Once. Don’t fucking push it."
"Sure, Witch. Once."