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draconic-desire · 25 days

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💥 Take My Whiskey Neat 💥

Yandere Boothill x Reader

Again and again, you find a way to escape, and every time ends with you peering down the barrel of a gun.

Warnings: Yandere behaviors, forced relationship and captivity, implied kidnapping, some suggestive content but mostly sfw. Mild spoilers for his background story; I want to write him both as a super attentive and protective guy but also crazy for you???

You’ve become all too familiar with the sensation of a gun being pointed to your forehead.

“Aw, darlin’, why the long face? Took me two whole days to find ya this round! You should be proud’a yerself. I dare say our time together has taught you well,” he concludes with a wink.

Somehow, his praise feels more like a taunt.

That’s because it is. Obviously you never had a chance at escaping from him, a Galaxy Ranger with a bounty on his head worth more than your life a hundred times over. He was born and raised to hunt, to track, to kill. You’re just the unlucky target.

He leans the gun ever so slightly closer to you, mere inches before it can graze your skin, and waits for your response. Although you know he won’t pull the trigger, the sight of the 9 millimeter colt aimed directly between your eyes still sends goose flesh skittering down your arms.

You grit your teeth and pin him with a withering glare. The last thing you’ll relinquish is your pride—you’re not intimidated by him, and it is impressive that you evaded him for so long, relatively speaking. Your other escape attempts lasted mere hours.

Unfortunately, the fact that the Ranger has always traveled alone doesn’t help your chances—especially when lately, his only occupation has been you.

“What, no clap back today? No, ‘fudge you, ya son of a nice lady’ or ‘fork you, shirtbaggin’ bootlicker’? I’ve gotten so used to yer colorful language that I’m almost disappointed!” Boothill tilts the gun and juts his hips, his bullseye gaze locked on your own.

Ignoring the subtle look of longing, of hurt, within their depths is getting harder and harder. He’s superb at hiding it behind jokes and attempted curses, but you know that look. He’s clinging to you after all that’s been taken from him, seeking love after it was destroyed in flames. If only he still held onto his human emotions and didn’t rely on that neuro chip of his; then he’d know that what he’s showing you isn’t love, but obsession.

You wish you had never extended your kindness to him that fateful day, when he’d burst into your home, sparks flying and wires exposed. One of his arms was barely attached, completely torn through with bullet holes. A shootout, he’d said, and he’d caught wind of a handy ‘machine doctor’—a mechanic, you’d corrected him—in town who could fix him right up.

It had taken a full two weeks for you to get him back up and running functionally. Two weeks of evading IPC grunts knocking on your door in search of him, two weeks of tolerating (and fine, maybe even enjoying) his crude jokes, and two weeks of stories over a glass of whiskey, about your hope to one day travel among the stars and his of finding a companion to do so with.

That’s when he’d seemed the most human. Voice tinged with sorrow, yes, but lips curved into a morose smile, eyes looking up at the stars. Reminiscing about when he was still fully human, nothing but a cowboy on a seemingly insignificant planet, surrounded by his adopted parents and siblings, and even that little girl whom he never got to see grow up.

After he’d shared his story, you’d felt the sudden urge to be close to him. Without thinking, you’d brought your hand up to his cheek, wiping an invisible tear despite the fact that he lost his tear ducts long ago.

He’d sucked in a breath and gone deadly still; thinking you misjudged the situation and overstepped a boundary, you’d quickly started to jerk your hand back, only for him to lock it firmly against his face with his metal palm.

His voice, normally loud and clear through the synthesized distortion, had been quiet, low, wavering. “I—please, don’t stop. That feels…nice.”

You were sad to see him go after those two weeks. You honestly expected to never see him again—he was a Galaxy Ranger, after all, the definition of a lone wolf—but to your surprise, his visits didn’t end there. He kept returning again and again, and not just for repairs. Sometimes he’d bring you gifts or tell you stories of his hunt, and you’d cherish those moments when the galaxy felt just a bit less lonely with him.

Then the visits started to increase in their frequency—and intensity. He’d show up while you were working with a client and brazenly threaten them to leave so he could occupy your time instead, or he’d appear on your doorstep in the middle of the night with your favorite bottle of liquor, winking at the sight of your embarrassed form, still in your nightclothes. Your world suddenly seemed to revolve around the gunslinging cyborg.

You’d had to put your foot down—as much as you did enjoy his company, you wouldn’t allow him to interfere with your career. You’d worked hard to gain your skills, and even though you were barely scraping by and living in a tiny, modest home by yourself, you were still proud of what you’d achieved on your own.

His initial reaction was an uncharacteristic and frightening bout of silence, his pupils blown wide, locked onto yours. Just as quickly, his typical smirk returned as he laughed it off. “Just watch out, lil cutie, ‘cause I know you’ll be missin’ me soon.”

Apparently, soon was imminent, immediate. You were pouring yourself a drink after a long week of work when he finally kicked down your door and announced you’d be coming with him.

“I’ve been waiting a long while now to claim you, darlin’.”

“And if I refuse?”

That was the first time you witnessed his gun trained on you.

Now, Boothill drags you along everywhere, hopping from one planet or system to the next, living together as nomads. What you believed to be a serendipitous friendship, he thought was the start of your romance and life together.

It would be thrilling in any other circumstance, treading the path of The Hunt, evading the law, tracking down the IPC members who destroyed his family…except the cyborg transferred that need to protect, to save someone, onto you. You have no choice but to be his now, and he’ll be damned if he ever lets you go.

“You just want to hear me curse because you can’t,” you growl. What a stupid argument to be having with a pistol to your head. Yet you can’t help but siphon all of your anger into this dumb little game of cat and mouse, of shark and minnow, of hunter and bird.

He forgets you’re not the only one armed.

You flash him the most vulgar gesture you can make. “Go fuck yourself, Boothill.”

The cowboy throws his head back in a laugh. “Haha! There she is. Wild as a newborn colt.” He grins, flashing those shark teeth you’d groan to loathe. You’ve lost count of the number of puncture marks and scars they’ve littered across your flesh.

That’s something he can’t seem to get enough of—the feel of your warm, organic, human skin against his cold, steel shell.

“Lan shoot me with an arrow, do you ever shut the fuck up?” you grumble, looking up as if the Aeon will give you an answer.

“Think ya already know the answer to that,” he replies, lowering his weapon to sling his opposite arm around your shoulders. The gun hangs languidly from his other hand, as if he’s not the deadliest shot in the galaxy.

His breath brushes your neck as he leans in and nips at your ear. “Now, how ‘bout we take this back home, eh cutie? Two days without you has got me pretty…” His voice drops an octave. “…pent up, if ya know what I mean.”

The tooth marks along your skin flare. Oh, you know all too well.

~*~

Trying to find the solution to your imprisonment at the bottom of a bottle seems like a really clever idea, at least until the room starts spinning.

The empty glass cracks against the wooden table again as brown liquor burns down your throat. What did he call it? Rocket fuel? Damn right, and you’d lost count of the number of shots you’d taken.

Boothill’s normal smirk is contorted into a small frown. “Darlin’, I know it’s been a long couple’a days away for you, but I think we should retire the whiskey for the time being—”

“Shyut up!” you slur, jabbing a finger at the Ranger, your neck still throbbing from all the love bites and hickeys he’d given you. “Thiz is your fault.”

He reaches for the bottle, but you snatch it away and instead start to take pulls directly from it. A deep sigh reverberates behind you as you stand and begin to spin around, hands extended. “Aren’t we celebrating you catching me again? You got what you wanted, you…you mudder…fuuuu…” You sway and just barely catch yourself before you tumble—wait, no, that’s him steadying your shoulders.

“(Y/n).” You blink out of your haze momentarily; only on rare occasions does he use your name and not things like darling or cutie. His face is controlled, mouth tilted downward. “Put the bottle down. I know the feelin’ of wanting to drown in liquor, but it ain’t right.”

“I’m only like this because you took me from my life!”

He bares his teeth, and you know you hit a nerve. “That little shack you called a home? Was that really livin’? All those nights we talked, you said how you wanted grand adventure and risk! To travel and see the stars! To be with me!”

“I didn’t ask for you to put me in a moving cage,” you spit back, trying to shake out of his iron-clad grip. “But you never asked what I wanted, did you?”

“Why’s this all so hard for you to accept?” One hand moves to grab your chin, tilting your face towards his tall form. “It could be just us, ridin’ through the galaxy for all time.” His lips brush lightly against your own, and you feel a tinge of warmth run down your spine. “Just be mine.”

In your drunken stupor, your anger morphs into something else, something more carnal. He wants to be the predator? Well, even the hunted fight back sometimes.

The bottle drops from your hand, shattering against the floor, as you hook an arm around his neck and kiss him fervently, your tongue running along the edges of his pointed canines.

Before he can kiss you back, you pull away, wiping the back of your mouth with your forearm. “That’s what could have been if you hadn’t kidnapped me. If you’d asked me first.” Skipping over the remnants of the whiskey bottle, you flip him the finger over your shoulder as you walk away. “Too bad that’s all you’ll get. Fork you, Boothill.”

As soon as you leave the room, Boothill raises a metal digit to his lips, savoring the sensation of your warm mouth against his. So that’s what your willing kiss feels like. The true passion he knows is hidden deep in your soul, buried beneath the dirt like an unmarked grave. He releases a breathy laugh.

Well fork him sideways, but he wants more.

Taking his hat off, he sets it on the table and moves to pour himself a glass of sherry. He’s nearly positive he’ll find you passed out in bed if he goes to you now, and knows he shouldn’t, can’t be in the same room with you when his self control is so near to breaking. Better to let you sleep it off and tease you about the kiss in the morning.

Boothill kicks his feet up and takes a long sip. So, it turns out your drunken self may actually be harboring some attraction for him. Yeah, he can use that.

“I’ll have you someday,” he whispers, a promise to both you and himself. “Whiskey ain’t the only thing that’ll be on your lips, darlin’.”

#yandere boothill #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere escape #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yanderecore #yandere male #yandere #yancore #honkai star rail #hsr #Boothill

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somerandomdudelmao · 1 month

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i joke about rich kid behavior but im also serious. It makes sense for Oscar to be okay with living at the expense of others because that's what being rich is. He lucked into a position of relative privilege and he's sticking with it. I don't think he has any longterm plans of heroism, i think he was being dead honest in choosing his own life over that of others.

On the sympathetic side, I wouldn't be surprised if his backstory involved a fucked up family life. He takes to people pleasing like a duck to water and immediately latched onto the biggest meanest person in the room. There's likely a reason he's a bootlicker type rich kid and not a donquixote type rich kid and I'd bet it has to do with getting it reinforced from a young age that heroism is not gonna get him anywhere.

Oh this is an interesting take>:0 I don’t want to spoil anything but I want you to hold this thought till the next episode

Also, it is very interesting for me to read your thoughts on Oscar because as an author, I perceive him whole. I know his past and future, so my and your perception of him is very different and I'm very curious to know the reader's point of view

#marble sky ask

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iwaasfairy · 9 months

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┌─ “ ! „ CHALKBOARD AND NAILS

tw. noncon, yandere, dumbification, objectification, daddy kink, some degradation, some praise, threats, brief mention of murder and blood, hair pulling, forced oral wordcount. 4.5k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by the amazing @totalleelee ♡♡♡ here you are my loVE!!! happy late birthday to your friend as well, and I really hope you guys enjoy it! I always like getting to write new characters and Nanami was definitely a fun one. I had to make the fic longer bc I wanted moreEeeeee but yea i just really really hope you enjoy it, and thank you again a miLLIOn for commIng me iM so sO HONOUREDDD

nanami kento x fem!reader

You should think about what you’re doing. Lying upside down off the couch with your eyes big and long, distracting lashes and your hair hanging; casting playful shadows on the floor when you move. His couch. He’d like to believe you’re doing it on purpose -hell, most people would probably be inclined to- when you’ve got that coy, little smile on your face and your shirt rides up to reveal a sliver of skin above your pants.

He would assume if you had ever dared to come onto him in any way. But you haven’t, and so he can’t, not when you remain the perfectly sweet, kind, respectful graduate they hired only a few years ago— and it makes him too aware of you.

Nanami’s not the prim and proper bootlicker Gojo jokes he looks like; so among the other sorcerers, it isn’t even too illogical that you would cling to him a little. A kouhai dumped on his doorstep when the higher-ups decided to employ them fresh out of school. If it were anyone else, he would’ve complained until the choice was overruled. But you’re not anyone else. He can’t even lie about the fact that he’s grown quite the attachment to you.

Your bubbly, engaged energy and blueberry scented shampoo and cheap coffee in styrofoam cups that you always, always forget to throw away at the end of the day. Your chattering that rings through his brain before he goes to sleep and the way you talk and talk and talk when he won’t. You’re the exact opposite of an enigma, because that would require that you left him with some mysteries, and you don’t have the ability to keep your mouth shut. He hates how easy you wind him around your little finger, and he hates that he hates it.

Nanami’s not a dependant guy- and it seems to be your goal to prove him so fucking wrong.

“Why wouldn’t that be possible? I mean, it’d be hard if suddenly a curse shows up and you’re called up in the middle of the night and have to rush to work, and our rates of serious injury are pretty high. But I think I could make it work! Y’know, communication is key and all that.” Your pretty lips shine as you ramble on. You prop your head onto one arm, and turn over so your leg is basically straddling his furniture. “Have you ever dated a non-sorcerer while you’ve been a grade one, Nanamin?”

He lets out a slow exhale, and shifts his gaze back from the lines of your throat to his book so you don’t catch him looking. “No.”

“Not once? In like twelve years?” You raise a brow like you’ve suddenly discovered he’s some ancient fossil dug up from the canal.

“I prefer not to leave my partners for weeks on end with no explanation because the sorcerer world forbids it— so no. And I didn’t graduate twelve years ago, brat.” With the spine of the book he taps your nose, before getting up from the chair to join you on the couch. The few drinks have been abandoned as you finally let the blood back out of your head and wobble like a deer, blinking too slowly. Even now, you’re pretty. Prettier than he wants you to be, taking in the soft slope of your nose and the pillowy lips and your stupid flush on your face. Brat is right.

“I think I’ll do it,” you declare after a few seconds, and rest your head back into the couch with a pout. “I get lonely. And most sorcerers have giant egos.” He’s not sure if it takes him aback -can’t place the emotion that washes over him a few inches at a time- but he finds himself watching the side of your face a little too tightly. The cogs turn in his head and send some uncomfortable cold to gather in the pit of his stomach. Your lashes flutter and some wetness lines your waterline, and he can tell that you mean it. It isn’t the alcohol, he knows you better than enough.

When you look up at him, your faces are only a few inches apart— soft breaths filling the narrow space between. Has he ever told you he loves you? He’s not a man of too many words, that’s always been more your style than his— so probably not. But he does. So much it carves a gaping hole in his chest upon impact. He doesn’t have to say anything to see the way your eyes flutter shyly with the near perfect closeness. As your silence hangs as the room disappears, his hand twitching on his thigh. Aren’t you partly his like he’s yours? That’s how it should work. It’s the only logical course of action, and so he can’t help but lean in.

You’re just too shy to say anything- right? You wouldn’t hang out with him so much if you didn’t, wouldn’t trust and touch him, or confide in him so much if you didn’t. His heart burns in his chest the closer you seem to get. But before he can finish up the gap, you giggle and back away. “Wow! Hey, we almost kissed.” Your voice is a higher pitch than normal, but still rambly. Fuck. “I didn’t expect you to be so close when I looked up,” your nose and cheeks are burning hot, “you scared me, Nanamin~”

You stand from the couch instead, and lean towards him with that little smile that drives him crazy at night. “Senpai, it’s clearly time for me to go home. I’m getting sloppy.” You are. And as much as he wants to use that as an excuse to grab you by your waist and pull you into his lap, it wouldn’t do any good. Not when you’re too busy running your mouth to understand the consequences. He loves you, but you’re one infuriating little runt. You run your hand through his hair like it’s an intrusive thought, spilling loose locks onto his forehead, and then you smack your lips. “Will you see me to the door at least?”

For not the first time, he blames your loose lips for making it so hard for him.

You’re entirely different outside the four walls of his apartment.

It’s a coincidence that he finds himself across the street as he spots you walking under the streetlights with a little jump in your step. You look a different sort of formidable— clinging to the arm of some plain fucking loser that is so very clearly drooling all over you. It’s almost pathetic how easily swayed the guy is, as you bat your lashes and smile at him. And somewhere in the back of his mind, it rings a little familiar, but common sense and logic get pushed down a little under the feeling of anger that he feels bubbling up in him.

Not at you— though he told you he didn’t think it a good idea, you’ve always been a bit dense. In need of protection. It isn’t an option, and Nanami’s responsible for you. He looks out for you. This fucking loser though, is oblivious about anything but the skin your dress is showing off. In the brief few moments he gets to spot you walking off towards your street, that much becomes clear. You love making it hard for him. You’re basically magnetic, dragging him along from whatever chore he was doing to follow behind patiently, getting more and more agitated.

See, Nanami has thought quite often about what he is, and isn’t. You forced him to think it over whenever he found his mind wandering back to you each time it had the chance, squeezing around his cock and whining out your dramatics into his mouth. In his imagination, he’s easy to wrap up into a neat bow. With a begrudgingly growing interest each time you landed on his couch, or trailed behind him like a puppy at work. It’s because of all that introspection that he decided he isn’t a good do-er. He does good, and he is perfectly adequate at doing it too. But he doesn’t do it for the praise of it.

Nanami isn’t a hero. He isn’t a vigilante.

He’s a simple guy with simple wants: you. So there’s only one reason that crystalizes in his mind as he finds himself walking a good distance behind this fucking loser that you’re blinking stars up at. It isn’t a noble one. Just that every fiber in him aches to grab the guy by the back of his neck and kick his head like a soccer ball. You wouldn’t like that much, but he still wants to do it.

You’re beaming and chattering along like you do at such a pace that you don’t even notice that he’s started to follow behind. Hell, you barely even acknowledge a passerby to move out of the way. You’re totally zoned in to your doe-eyed, little fantasies— even as the distance gets closer and closer, and he’s walking down the now familiar streets towards your apartment. And as much as he wants to blame you, he can't. Not really. It’s not like he didn’t know what a sweet little cheerleader you were when you were prancing around his office with the shortest skirts known to man and a coquettish blink of your long lashes. But it’s different when it’s some two-bit, middle aged non-sorcerer with a five o’clock shadow.

It’s different when it isn’t him. Even you must know that. You must feel it.

The sky’s darkening as your conversation goes from enthusiastic to clearly flirty, letting your giggle ring out down the lane— as he makes up the last bit of distance. The guy’s probably musty breath reaching you as he swings his arm over your shoulder, as he pulls you close. As he fills your head with all kinds of promises that he definitely won’t actually meet as soon as he gets your pretty hands around his cock. He knows it, and he knows that even your innocent, sweet personality would take a hit if that happened. You wouldn’t be able to perform well at work, and maybe even your relationship with Nanami would suffer if you got your heart broken.

There’s a very clear path before him that ends right where you’re walking up the steps towards your door, and those pretty lips form words he can’t focus on. He walks up to the door, and only now do you glance behind you and your pretty eyes go curiously wide at him. “Nanami?” You’re so fucking cute. But that stupid fucking arm around your shoulders is in his way. It blocks you from view, and ruins the sight. It’s a bother. There’s only the faintest hints of jealousy and rage left in his veins - when he gives you a quick nod, then turns towards the guy who’s now got an awfully dumb expression on his face. It reminds him a little of a curse, blank and narrowed and disturbed. He feels eerily calm, really. It’s a simple problem with a simple solution, isn’t it.

“What are you doing here-” you start to say, before you stumble back.

Blood splatters all over, and with an awfully easy motion that stupid head rolls and drops to the floor. It’s quick, and there’s a few seconds where he waits for the resistance. The uncomfortable feeling of guilt. But it doesn’t come—

Until your shaky hand clutches almost painfully onto his shirt, pinching him. “H- Nanamin. What the hell do you think you’re doing? What did you-” You gasp, breaking off into a choked cry when your eyes take in the sight before you, before squeezing your eyes shut entirely and starting to shake harder. “What’s- why?! What did you do? Why did you do that?! I can’t- I can’t even- what- why?!”

You shove him aside, and his foot lands in the mess as you fumble sticking the key into the lock— too shaky to control your own extremities well. But your mouth still hasn’t stopped running. “Stay away! Go away! You’re- I- hick- I don’t wanna look!” You finally manage to get the key turned by the time the tears are making your cheeks entirely shiny, snot running and lip wobbly like a five year old— and sink down into a crouch to start sobbing it out into your arm. “You just killed a-an-” You can’t even make it halfway through without breaking out into another squeak. “F-for no reason. I invited him here- seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

Your face doesn’t come up again for breath until he grabs you by the arm to help you up, and you shove at him again, almost yelling this time. “No, no, no no no! Leave me alone!” This little scene you’re making is gonna attract attention, you know. “Leave me alone, I want to go in!” Before the situation can get out of hand, he pushes your door open enough to toss you inside, and the body after you. There’s a muffled little whimper from you when it lands with a thump on your floor. But as soon as he closes the door, the surge of adrenaline calms.

He just has to explain it to you, give him a minute.

“I don’t wanna- I don’t-”

For some reason, the entire situation winded him, and his beating heart bangs loudly in his chest. He drops his weapon aside and kicks off his shoes, and goes to you— where you’re cocooned in your own arms, knees to your chest. “Hey, it’s-”

“Leave me alone!” you squeak, knocking his hands away from you, only briefly looking up. “Go. Hck- go away!” You’re crying so much that your eyes are red and your cheeks puffy. But he still grabs you by your arms and hauls you up into his chest, ignoring the way you make yourself dead weight. Brat. He wants to say it, but he’s pretty sure you wouldn’t be too happy to hear it at this very moment. It’s not like he blames you. He’s always tried to shield you from the more gruesome parts of the occupation as much as possible. Of course you’d be upset. “Nanamin~” you whine.

“Shhh, just calm down. It’s all good now.” His heart still beats so loud. Maybe he was angrier than he first imagined. He carries you -much to your dismay, if your sniveling cries are anything to go off- out of the hall and into your bedroom. Where it smells of perfume and girly body lotion, and so overwhelmingly like you it takes him aback a little. You’re still crying, and still talking- but he does his best to drown it out in favor of explaining. See, he’s always been such a sucker for you. Swallowing down the slight rasp in his voice, he allows you to drop back into your bed, and looks down at you. You’re still pretty even with your eyes clenched closed, and crying like a baby. “There, ‘s okay.”

He runs his thumb along your eyes, then settles down next to you on the plush mattress. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Listen-”

“How can I -hck- listen?!” You’re quick to turn your face away from him, and wrap your arms around yourself a bit tighter— probably unaware of the distracting way you push up your tits that way in that little implication of a dress. Really, Nanami swallows, you can obviously do much better than that loser that’s probably staining your carpet at the entrance. Your lip wobbles again, before you suck it into your mouth. “I don’t know what- or how- but that isn’t okay, Nanamin. I just-”

So again, he tries to get your attention, this time by grabbing your arm. “Just listen. I did it for you- if this was anyone else I wouldn’t have been so pressed.” It’s true. No one is a priority like you are. “I had to.”

“What are you talking about? How- is killing someone- oh god, there’s a dead guy in my house, Nanamin! I don’t k- what am I gonna do? Why would you-”

“I’m trying to tell you something.” His voice is lower and sharper this time, and your eyes finally shoot open to look at him. But it isn't that adoring little look you normally have, and somehow that pisses him off too. You really need to have everything spelled out for you, huh. He loves you though, really, he genuinely, genuinely does. As more than just an equal— if he could, he’d give you everything. He just doesn’t know how to say it, staring back at the wobbly tears on your face. “I love you,” is what ends up coming out, and then a breath.

And he’d say more if you weren’t such a talker.

Your face goes a little distant for a few seconds, before you shake your head. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I will tell you, if you just-”

“I can’t accept that, senpai! You can’t just go around and kill-”

“I was protecting you!”

“From what?!” Before you even give him a chance, a real one, you start righting yourself on the bed and run a hand under your nose. And you stare at him with such disbelief and broken trust that it makes him feel a little dizzy. He doesn’t know exactly how he imagined himself spilling his guts, but it wasn’t like this. “You need to leave. And I need to contact someone from the higher ups to- take care of- I don’t even know,” you sob, “I don’t know how any of this goes. That’s so messed up, Kento.” That’s the first time you’ve ever addressed him by his first name. Scolding him for a choice he made purely for you. He did this for you. “You need to-”

He can’t let the first time end this way.

“Stop talking.”

“Stop talking?” You echo back to him, and glare, also getting up off the bed and farther away from him— and he can’t help but follow. “What did you think was gonna happen? That I wasn’t going to say anything?” As he gets up with you, you walk back a step, and your eyes flick back and forth between him and the door a few times. But he chases, and you jump in surprise when your back meets the wall, effectively trapping you between the wall and him. “I- Nanami-”

“Kento.”

You barely blink as you take a sharp intake of air, and then hold your hands up to his chest to keep some space between you two. “Look- just- we can talk about this, but I can’t just ignore that there’s a dead body in my house, Kento.” He’s really sick of you talking. You’re lucky he loves your voice so much, because if it was anyone else, he wouldn’t stand for it. Whatever you see in his expression must have you worried, because that slight defiance that remains gets awfully feeble when he reaches for you this time. “You’re scaring me. Please, just- hck- just back up. Let me process this, and then we can talk.”

“No, all your talking just gets in the way.” Your eyes go wide and a wave of heat washes over your features, making you look even more attractive. If he can’t tell you, he’ll just show you. You’ve got it all fucking wrong. What he feels for you is true love. Before you can go on another mad ramble, he grabs you and drags you back to bed, as gently as he can while having his hand screwed tight around your wrist. He wouldn’t ever actually hurt you. As you land on the bed, he holds you down— watching as you open your mouth to talk. But you can’t, because he’s already shoved two fingers between your lips and feels the way your hot, wet tongue squirms as he pushes them down your throat. “There, that’s better.”

Still you’re trying to talk, it’s almost funny. You whine around his fingers and gag when you can’t, breathing his name into an uncomfortable moan that just turns him on. You try to pull your head away, but you can’t. “You’re a lot sweeter when you’re not running your mouth sometimes, baby.” He can’t help it, it just comes out. He likes you so much, and you just look so cute gagging on his fingers and grabbing his sleeve like you’re not sure whether or not to pull or push. Tears start welling up along your waterline when he runs his fingertips over your soft, pink tongue. And his cock twitches in his pants.

That’s the good part, see. Even with all this fighting, you two still get along so well. You make him a better man when he’s around you. At least, in theory. He’s not crazy, he knows that holding you down and making you choke on his fingers isn’t really the best course of action -but you left him no choice- and he’s better off finishing what he started. “If you shut up,” he draws his fingers out of your mouth to start unzipping his pants, “I’ll let you breathe. If you don’t, I’ll make sure you won’t want to talk again.” It’s all up to you, pretty girl. Simple cause and effect. You take one sharp breath as you try to get out from under his weight, but there’s really nowhere you can go.

So you do what you do best, and whine. “Nanami~” It’s a baby-ish little whimper that makes him name sound so fucking good. But still. He grabs your face to squish your cheeks, and stares down at you with such intensity that you keep your cries in.

“It’s Kento.” His voice is a low, soft rumble. He wonder if it gives away the way his body feels right now, standing above you while his cock strains against his pants. They’re getting too tight to be comfortable. “Or daddy- you like that better? Say it.” You shake your head into his grip -but your ears start glowing another color brighter, almost like he’s caught you in a lie. Of course you do. You and him are made to be together. You let out another little squeak before he lets go of you to start undoing his pants.

That apparently seems to be too much, because suddenly you’re trying to get up as you speak. “No, no, I’m not-” You’re trapped when he forces you back down and now yanks your head back by your hair, making you cry again. “Ow, please senpai— I like you, I really do- but I can’t- I- hang on.” The heat crawls up his neck to his ears watching your eyes go big as the belt falls and his pants go down his thighs. You really do look good on your fucking knees.

“I told you to stop yapping, didn’t I?” He asks in return, and finishes sliding his boxers down, kicking them aside. Then he pulls your face towards his cock and watches as you whine. “Open up for daddy. There’s only one thing your mouth’s good for.” You’re so easy to hold in place, and it sends unimaginable gratification through his body when your little tongue comes out for him. You’re really such a brat, making everything so fucking hard for him.

You open your mouth enough for him to start pushing inside at just the slightest yank of your hair, making you whine and whimper as you shuffle around between his legs. Your hands come to rest on his thighs, but that doesn’t hold him from sliding the hot head of his cock as far as he can into your mouth right away. You look amazing drooling all over his cock, choking when he starts to move with the most patient moves he can manage. It’s not easy to do much of anything except rock himself on your soft tongue and feel your whining go down his shaft and balls. “There, now you’re making yourself useful. That’s what you do best, hm, fucking brat?”

“Agh, fuck- that’s- such a soft little mouth.” You make him feel heavenly, and by the way you’re shifting down there on the floor -trying and failing to get the friction you want- you’re also feeling it. He can tell by the way you blink up at him so slow, swallowing around him and letting that pretty voice out in the cutest, little moans. Just for him. Only ever for him. “You’re so lucky you’re this fucking cute,” he ends up rasping out, before letting you finally pull back to breathe when you start jittering. “Say something smart again, brat.”

“Agh, daddy,” you sob, drool spilling down your chin, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He can tell you are. Your big eyes glossy and cheeks hot, you try to get up from the floor, and he yanks you up to turn you over instead. Your little dress rides up too easily, giving the rest of the way when he shoves it up your back. It’s almost embarrassing to see how wet you are, lacy panties soaked all the way through and peeled too easily aside to reveal that needy pussy. And you don’t even deny it, just shiver when he runs his finger up and down your slicked up cunt. “Please.”

He’s such a sucker for you, fuck. It’s almost like you know it. “My little cock slut, look at that. You’re dripping down your thighs, brat.” He spits on your center once before lining up and sliding in, and watching as your little pussy stretches around his cock with some effort— as you let out a lewd, almost desperate whine. “Fuck.” And Nanami hoists himself over you to start fucking into you, hips meeting your ass as he bottoms out, as you open your legs further to let him in. Your back half hangs pathetically over the end of the bed as he fucks into your tight, hot -so fucking hot and wet and beaming- pussy and his balls clap against you. You feel so good it’s hard to hear anything over his own heartbeat hammering wildly against his ribs.

“Daddy feel good inside?”

“Mhm, agh-yea.”

You too, baby. Nothing in the world feels as good as letting your pussy swallow and suck him in deeper, like you’re trying to hold him in that impossibly hot, blissful clutch forever. He can’t even hear much of your whining and moaning and pitiful struggle, but you probably haven’t stopped. You don’t even have the energy to close your mouth, trying to push back to meet his thrusts more even as he bumps against the end of your pussy— and his one hand is squeezed around your neck. But you look pretty this way. You look useful.

“Tell me how much you like me.”“So~ much, so much, fuck. I’m gonna cum, Kento. Daddy.” Your mouth’s still running when he snakes his hand underneath you to start rubbing at your puffy clit, and feels the way his own body starts to tighten when your walls clench wildly around him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I want you to cum too, want to feel it- I wanna have you deep inside me forever, ah, ah. Oh, you feel so good, fuck.” It’s almost ironic when he thinks about it. How much he likes you running your mouth like this, begging for more. It’s poetic.

#nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #tw.noncon #tw.murder #tw.blood #tw.dark content #tw.yandere #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.nanami

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gojos-thot-patrol · 10 months

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Can we have some NANAMIN~~ hehehe

Nanami Kento, Jealousy, “Isn’t your boyfriend in the other room?”

Ya'll can ALWAYS have some Nanami, he is ALWAYS on the menu 💛💛💛

Now Presenting...

Starring: A very jealous Nanami Kento

This party fucking sucked. The house smelled like litter box, the vibe was disgusting, and the drinks were as weak as the music choice. Though, all of those reasons kinda paled in comparison to the real reason this party sucked for Nanami: You had brought your new boyfriend here. Not that he cared. It was fine. He was in your bed less than a week ago, probably while you were still talking to the walking asshole guy you were with now, so this guy really can’t be that important, but whatever. It didn’t matter to him, because it clearly didn’t matter to you. He got another drink, this time mixing his own in order to insure that his vodka redbull was actually a vodka redbull, and not just a redbull that thought really really hard about a vodka shot.

“Hey man, did you see that guy that Y/n showed up with?!” Gojo asked as he walked into the kitchen, “Dude, shes fucking cheating!”

“Satoru!” Geto snapped, punching his shoulder to remind him that hey, maybe this situation required a bit more tact. Kento quickly poured a shot of tequila and threw it back, much to the horror of Suguru and the awe of Gojo.

“Not cheating, we weren’t official.” Nanami gasped, focusing on the burn in his throat to ignore the tightness in his chest.

“Kento, do you want to go?” Suguru asked, pointing a thumb to the door, “We can just drink at home, play some Tekken. Honestly it sounds more fun than this.” He offered, trying to give Nanami an out from the awkward situation.

“Yea!” Gojo agreed, “This party sucks anyway, its full of frat boys.” Kento chuckled and took a drink from his vodka with a splash of redbull. He really did appreciate his roommates, and how they always had his back, even in small ways. But he wasn’t going to leave this party immediately after you showed up with some bastard. Because that would mean admitting defeat, and Nanami would never admit defeat.

“Nah, I think I’m going to socialize actually,” Kento said with a shrug. Suguru and Satoru shared a worried look, but didn’t push the issue further as Nanami left the kitchen. He went to the livingroom. He saw you sitting on the couch next to the wannabe tech bro you brought, laughing with your whole body at some joke he said. He bet it wasn’t even funny. Probably some cheesy pun he stole off of twitter. That dick probably had an NFT profile pic and actually started calling it X the moment daddy musk told him too. Fucking bootlicker. What the hell did he have that Nanami didn’t? He didn’t fucking deserve you. So why the fuck did you choose him?

He snapped out of his definitely not jealousy fueled spiral long enough to realize that he was not only staring, but he felt his eyes prickle with tears. Oh no, no no no fuck no! He quickly wiped away the drop that fell before rushing to the bathroom. He would be damned before he was caught crying at a fucking house party. Especially over a woman he never really had to begin with. Someone who never really took whatever it was they had as seriously as he did.

He was thankful to find the downstairs bathroom empty, slipping in and all but throwing his back against the door. This fucking sucked. This really fucking sucked. Suguru had warned him once he started catching feelings, that he either had to say something or stop answering your calls, stop calling you. That to do anything else was just setting himself up for hurt if you didn’t feel the same way. He didn’t take him very seriously at the time. Kento made a mental note to pay for at least one of his drinks as an apology next time the group went bar hopping.

He took a deep, jagged breath, trying to ground himself. Okay. Okay. He probably wasn’t going to cry anymore. He pushed himself off of the bathroom door, going to the sink to splash his face. He threw cold water on his face, and was in the middle of crying it off when the door opened.

“Hey! It’s called knocking!” He snapped at the intruder.

“I’m sorry, I did!” You yelped, “You didn’t answer!”

“Y/n?” Nanami asked, filling himself deflate at your smile. You finished walking in, closing the door behind you.

“Oh, hey Kento! I didn’t know you were here. You look good” You winked. He repressed the urge to roll his eyes.

“Gee, thanks. That means so much.” He words were soaked in sarcasm, voice laced with contempt.

“Whoa, who pissed in your cheerios this morning?’ You asked, very much feeling the hostile vibe he was putting out, “Are you ok?”

“Yea, I’m fine.” Nanami shook his head, “Just…rough day, I guess.” He grumbled, not really in the mood for confrontation at that moment. You gave him a sly grin, slipping to close the space between the two of you. Your hand landed on his chest, and you looked at him through long eyelashes.

“Hey, I have an idea of what could make you feel better,” You purred, your hands falling to his belt buckle. Much to your surprise, but honestly more so his, He was quick to grab your wrist and stop you.

“Oh come on Y/n,” He scoffed, “Really? Isn’t your boyfriend in the other room?” He accused, venom dripping from his very soul. “I thought you were better than that.” You just looked at him confused, trying to think about what the hell he was talking about.

“Um, what?” You asked, only adding fuel to his rage.

“Oh come on Y/n, don’t play dumb! I saw that guy you came in with. Were you ever planning on telling me?” He snapped. Slowly, the confusion left your face, only to be replaced with amusement. You started laughing. You started laughing. Nanami shook his head, a tic quickly forming in his jaw.

“You’re really laughing right now? Thats so low Y/n, I can’t believe-”

“My cousin.” You said, stopping Kento in his tracks.

“What?”

“My cousin! That guy I showed up with? Yea, that’s my cousin Nanami!” You laughed, thoroughly entertained by the whole situation. You could see the math flashing before Nanami's eyes as he took in what you were saying. Now that he was thinking about it, nothing you did was particularly romantic, you just kinda…existed around him.

Oh my god.

Nanami started laughing too, unable to believe how worked up he got over literally nothing. He felt so utterly ridiculous, and honestly he kinda deserved that feeling.

“Oh my god it’s your cousin,” He said as chuckles started coming out, “I was really going to fight your cousin.”

“You were gonna fight him?!” You howled with laughter, having to brace yourself against the door.

“Yea! I was!” Nanami confirmed with a laugh, unable to believe he got so worked up over nothing, “Oh man, that would have been so bad.”

“And what did we learn?” You teased.

“That I need to be more forgiving of characters that fall into the miscommunication trope.”

“No, you numpty!” You playfully groaned, lightly pushing him, “It’s not a miscommunication if you never communicated in the first place!”

“Oh, yeah that too.” He joked with a grin. They two of you stayed giggling like that for a few more moments before he pulled you into a hug, just relieved that it was all a misunderstanding. The two of you left the bathroom hand in hand, no doubt turning a few heads, but who really cared. He didn’t at least.

“You know, as weird as this is to say, it was kinda hot seeing you jealous,” You teased, “You don’t get that way often.” He simply shrugged.

“Yea well, I think anyone would get jealous if they saw their girlfriend show up to a party with a random guy.”

“Oh, so I’m your girlfriend now?” You asked, a smile pulling at your lips. He could feel the blush dusting his cheeks.

“I mean, yea. If you want to be..” He offered. You grinned and jumped into his arms, kissing his cheek. He held you close and smiled.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami angst #nanami comfort #Nanami Kento hurt/comfrot #hurt/comfort #nobody likes you when you're 23

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002yb · 8 months

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My heart???? I pove the amnesiac Jason being in love AGAIN with Dick. Please give us all your thoughts and Bruce and Tim and Damian and Alfred aaaaa

The trope of Jason having an undying crush on Dick Grayson is one that I'll shoehorn into every bit of anything I ever write, hahaha. I love it so much; it's so sweet. Thank you for following along with the secretary AU though. //u/// Here's some general thoughts for them:

Bruce

There are times Bruce has to do his job. Unfortunately, part of that job includes playing nice with his employees. A lot of people want to get in good with the CEO so that they'll be better favored for promotions. Rubbing elbows is part of corporate culture.

Only Jason doesn't give a fuck. Do you have an appointment? Of course they don't; Jason sure as hell didn't make one for them. Get outta here.

Just Jason being the most ornery secretary/assistant, an actual guard dog outside of Bruce's office.

Meanwhile Bruce just looking on from the glass panes separating them and being so smitten because look at his boy - small as he ever was and just as fierce as before. Viciousness being innately Jason and Bruce appreciating it in a way he hadn't before.

And when Jason finally shoos whatever bootlicker comes along, he sits back in his chair with a huff, before glancing at Bruce and smiling that ornery little smirk and Bruce loves him so damn much.

Unrelated: when Bruce can't stay on task, Jason moves himself to temporarily sit in Bruce's office with him. Just sitting across from Bruce at his desk and supervising because they've got deadlines, boss.

The above is a strategy Bruce employs to get Jason closer to him. It works up until Jason realizes what Bruce is doing, after which Jason withholds himself until Bruce does his job and Bruce is despondent over it, of course, but also a little humored and fond and affectionate because that's his boy.

Alfred

The way this man fishes for information on his grandbaby (Damian) being so next level. He laments to Jason about how he always wanted grandchildren, but... *sidelong glance to Bruce who straightens up in his office*

The joke being that Damian is actually Bruce's kid, only Jason still hasn't brought Damian around so they can't confirm anything.

Anyway, Jason shares pictures and Alfred adores them. Especially the ones that have both Jason and Damian in them.

And Alfred is a gentleman, a professional. He doesn't get cranky, only he does hahaha. Because he wants Jason home and he wants to meet his (great) grandbaby, Master Bruce. l<

Until they can sort that though, Alfred is very doting to Jason and Damian. He can't overstep, but when opportunity presents itself, Alfred offers up recipes that he knows Jason will like and that would be appropriate for a fussy child. He offers up little caretaking tips and tricks and bites back chortles when Jason jokes about trying them on Bruce.

Alfred startling when he gets a text from Jason one day asking for help with a sick child

And Alfred is halfway to the garage before he realizes how inappropriate that would be so he parks himself right beside the door just in case Jason requests him

Which he doesn't, which breaks Alfred's heart. But Jason does call and Alfred is able to talk Jason down and help him through whatever crisis Damian has brought on.

And later, Jason passing along a thank you card that Damian also contributed some baby scribbles to. Along with a little gift, a tea cup, that Damian helped pick out. Because they're really grateful and Alfred is composed about it until he gets back to the car and then he just holds this sweet note and gift and mourns how he wants his family back ahhhhhhhhhh

But Alfred is a strong person and bears the strain of it all and carries on.

It's his new favorite cup though ;U;

Dick

Dick uses the excuse of meeting Bruce and Tim for lunch all of once before he boldly asks Jason out

Bruce's jaw drops so fast. He's damn near tripping over every bit of furniture in his office and his own two feet, scrambling to the door where he falls dramatically against the frame with a lie that he needs Jason to fetch xyz thing from xyz area of WE

Once Jason is out of earshot, Bruce glowering so hard at Dick because don't lead their boy on; get those foul thoughts out of his head

And Dick just here without one impure thought in his head (yet) and being very l: because really, Bruce? Dick would never (only he will).

Anyway, Bruce cockblocking even the most innocent of interactions and Jason being a bit ._. about it because he's never so busy as when Dick turns up to say hi.

Just Dick surprising Jason at the office with drinks and food, little pick-me-ups. And here's the thing - Dick doesn't know Jason like Alfred does. He doesn't know Jason's favorites or things he doesn't. He's figuring it all out in the moment and he keeps making efforts and there's a level of guilt there for not doing this before, sure, but there's also enjoyment because it's Jason and ahhhhhh

When Dick brings by the pick-me-ups and leans against Jason's desk or pulls up a chair to sit across from him and loaf around for a few minutes, Bruce and Tim are just l: because really? Nothing for them?

And Dick laughs because, 'no, Jason's special.'

Which just slays Jason where he stands as he misinterprets Dick's (current) interests and intentions

Something something Dick picking Jason up after work on his bike. And both Bruce and Alfred send death glares Dick's way, but Dick just smiles that cheeky Robin smile at them before helping Jason up behind him and telling him to hold tight

Alfred relents with his petulance immediately if only because his boys look so happy; this is how it should have always been

Bruce, on the other hand, is getting into the car and telling Alfred to follow them immediately, don't lose sight of them! D<

Tim

Copy room meet-cute scenario. Where Tim is about to commit property damage because all the copiers keep jamming on him and he doesn't have the fucking time; he's got a meeting in x number of hours and he needs to prep all the materials and the interns aren't there to help because Tim didn't finish the reports until x o'clock and he's stressed and just got off of patrol he doesn't have time to fight and be bested by a fucking copier and-- 'here, let me help.'

It's Robin. Jason. It's Jason. And Tim feels Jason looks as heroic as he ever did back when the mantle was his to wear.

Jason doing the copying for Tim and brushing off the gratitude. 'I'd rather not explain to the boss that all our copiers were thrashed in the midst of someone's corporate rage ¬‿¬' before it settles on a shrugged, self-aware, 'you take over a lot of boss's work, so it makes sense that I help you, no?'

The stress leaving Tim slowly but surely as Jason and he work side by side to put together Tim's meeting presentation materials for all of the board members/xxxxxx department heads/etc.

Not much chatter, but at the end after Bruce turns up and causes a scene (because Jason is missing from his desk and 'where is he!?') Jason turns to Tim with a crooked smile and insists that if Tim needs help with anything, Jason's there.

And Tim is left there being all awestruck and a little flushed

Plenty of casual interactions after that. Just casual greetings in the morning. Teasing from Jason that disguises blatant check-ins to make sure Tim is good. Which he is. Tim's embarrassed about it, but he notices Bruce taking back some of the work he pushed off onto Tim and...it's better.

So much banter though as they get comfortable. And Tim still sees Robin, but he starts to see Jason more and he likes him a lot.

Tim going to see Bruce and Jason knowing Tim is cool, but tormenting him anyway with the whole 'you got an appt, sir?' shtick

Jason sneakily switching out coffee with water and snickering when he catches Tim grimacing, head snapping to look Jason's direction while Jason gives a cheeky wave

Tim being teased as the next Brucie because of the supposed 'flirtiness' of their interactions; it's a scandal waiting to happen, he's following in Bruce's footsteps, etc. etc.

Tim is embarrassed about the rumors that start to circulate. He doesn't even flinch when Bruce looms over him with a rough demand of, 'what are your intentions with Jason?' like Tim is doing anything uncouth, come on man

Whether because Tim is genuinely interested or he wants to mess with Bruce (in retaliation for the copious amount of work Bruce has passed on to him), Tim pointedly asking Jason out. Right outside of Bruce's office.

Damian

Weeks later, Bruce still creeps outside of Jason's apartment. He hates the neighborhood. Crime rates are too high and the apartment isn't up to code, but he hasn't figured how to tell Jason to move yet. Telling his boy to come home would be inappropriate, as would buying the property beside the manor for Jason to have. He'll figure something out, but before that--

A flutter of sheer curtains and movement in Jason's apartment.

Bruce being persistently curious about the child, Damian, but not having much information outside of passing commentary from Jason (but mostly shared stories from Alfred).

The child is always well-guarded. Regardless of how Tim has tried to get close, the tutors that are with Damian are always very alert. Which is...good. But not conducive to the answers Bruce wants.

Anyway, Bruce being a creep outside of Jason's apartment. Listening in on recently placed bugs and startling because Damian talks.

Apparently Damian has aspirations to be Batman. And Jason humors him even as he laughs under his breath because why.

And to sucker-punch Bruce in the throat, Damian makes a proclamation that wounds Bruce deeply: 'To protect you.'

Jason being all endeared and sweeping Damian up off the ground to hold on his hip and smacking his head with a kiss

'Why not Robin?'

There's a pause, but Damian is quick even at such a young age and proclaims, 'Because you will be my Robin.'

And Bruce just cries on the inside a bit because ouch.

What started as a Damian section became a Dickjay with a Damian cameo section. Truth be told, idk how hold Damian should be.

Where the first member of the batfam Damian meets is actually Dick

Jason invites Dick up after Dick brings him home one evening

And Dick is so happy to be welcomed into this private part of Jason's life - smug because Dick is the first of them to be welcomed and this is an enormous step up from always being the last to know anything

Jason switching off with the tutor (LoA assassin lol) and the assassin and Dick eyeing each other up as they pass one another by because they both sense something's off about one another, just not what

Anyway, Jason locks up (extensive; perfect for the neighborhood, but also hopeful of all that Robin training having lingered in the back of Jason's head) then excuses himself to check that Damian was put to bed properly

Dick taking the opportunity to look around and being so enamored with every detail. There aren't many personal belongings, but there's enough. Used books and well-loved art supplies; second-hand furniture and a half-knitted blanket. There are drawings posted up on the fridge that Dick looks over fondly: depictions of Damian and Jason and few others that make up his family (which spoilers is gonna include Dick once Damian and Dick come to an understanding about Jason)

Anyway, Jason is so proud of Damian's artistic endeavors - a new hobby that Jason encouraged because Damian is otherwise so serious and morose for such a little guy. And Jason's smile when he talks about it, fuck. It's devastating. Dick could listen to Jason talk about this forever - he would love that.

Instead they talk about other things while they have a nightcap. They keep their voices low. Hushed so they don't disturb Damian in the next room.

By this point Dick would be well aware that Jason is still a sassy, ornery little menace firecracker, but it's still a joy to experience it. To trade quips, to banter. Keeping up with Jason's wit and playing a playful game of who has the sharper tongue.

It's them curled on either end of a stubby, narrow couch. Where Jason reaches out his sock-clad foot to shove at Dick's leg and Dick catches him and squeezes and holds on, a mindfully mindless point of contact - tentatively intimate.

And Dick isn't aware of how intimate the moment is - how captivated he is by Jason until suddenly a kid comes between them, face pinched as they click their tongue (and oh, that's a habit of Jason's, isn't it? Cute), taking Dick's hand in the tiniest of grips and forcibly removing Dick from Jason

Then Damian buries himself in Jason's chest before peeking back to glare at Dick. The declaration is clear as anything: he's mine

Jason introduces him, but Damian having none of it because Jason's attention being on another man? In their home? Unforgivable.

Jason being flummoxed because what? He's allowed to have friends, Damian.

No.

Dick smiles at that. He might understand that desire to be possessive.

Introductions made, but Damian being very grumpy

Child rearing difficulties for Jason with setting boundaries and getting Damian to bed because he wants to spend time with Dick, but Damian doesn't want to share

And Dick wants more of Jason. Of course he does, but he's not going to put Jason in a position to pick. Never. So he calls it a night so that Jason can take care of Damian. That besides, it's late. They should both turn in.

Jason grumbling and being a little petulant about it as he sees Dick out at the door, Damian nestled in his arms and resting on his hip, arms wrapped tight around Jason's neck. But really? He'd stay up all night. It's been nice.

Their parting being all sorts of electric although there's nothing more than lingering gazes and slow pull aways and second looks over shoulders only to catch one another still there and sheepish, giddy titters ahhhhhh

Jason resting his back against the closed door while Dick sort of bounces down the hall, invigorated and happy and excited for next time

Next time being: just an hour later when Jason texts to see if Dick made it home safely

They proceed to text through the night and come the following day when Jason looks exhausted? Bruce is concerned. When Dick comes in later with Jason's choice caffeine, looking just as tired? Bruce quickly switches to paranoid because what's happening and why and how does he stop it? l:

Still waffling with how Damian should be, hence his section being a little scarce/vague. It'll get there!

#dickjay #jaydick #brujay #timjay #secretary au

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hoshigaki · 4 months

Text

headcannons for itakisa 😌 continued from here

kisame and itachi are so. like itachi is a weirdo with no friends and kisame is a lonely dude who doesnt believe in friendship and yet they dont talk to each other as coworkers like they do with other akatsuki members, theyre so normal?? with each other i think they see each other as equals in the way only they could

so what happens when you put two bootlicking rule following brainwashed top of the class super soldiers who recently had a nervous breakdown about their role in society together on a team for terrorists? the most tender hand holding of all time. the most tragic vulnerability. the most timid notion of love while they know the other will die before they ever can enjoy it.

and maybe sexual intimacy as a form of self harm because one of them is used to using his strength as a punishing tool and one of them thinks he deserve to be punished while he waits until he dies.

i think at 17 after Itachi learns what romance and sex is he starts analyzing his physical and emotional reaction towards other people. after the confrontation in konoha in the failed kidnap mission kisame wouldve made some joke about running into itachis exes and then itachi says super deadpanned "i used to have a crush on kakashi" and kisame goes well that makes sense youre the two prettiest people in the village and then itachi like every teenage girl thinks too hard about that compliment and devises a strategic plan of action to receive more compliments for no particular reason.

kisame and itachi are truly quality time and acts of service lovers, and their affection for each other grows from them naturally doing things. moments of silence arent weird, itachi will always look out to whatever kisame has pointed out in the horizon, kisame will eat anything itachi cooks even if its burnt since the taste doesnt matter the act does, they both get annoyed at the same things and find the same people stupid which amplifies their "youre the only person i want to be around" feelings

because itachi is a sickly waif hes always cold and kisame doesn't generate as much heat as one would think which means they both like being in warm places and they will spend more time than necessary in hot springs or in the valley during summertime so they can bask in the sun

kisame doesn't like soft things like i said in my other post, but he does like silk and itachi's hair is perfectly silky to run fingers through

#kisaita #itakisa #kisame #itachi #mine #professional-gay-hermit #asks

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sirfrogsworth · 1 year

Text

The Babylon Bee School of Comedy

Have you ever wanted to make Elon Musk reply to you with a double cry laughing emoji?

If you crave that sweet billionaire validation you need only follow this carefully crafted conservative comedy content creation course for that powerhouse of online satire... The Babylon Bee.

Soon you too could be bootlicking billionaire balls with the rest of The BBee writers.

Are you ready to get your learn on?

Let us Bee-gin.

The number one most important rule that all The BBee writers must internalize to their core...

Conservative comedy abhors effort.

Brainstorming for hours on end to craft the perfect premise and punchline... is for the Libs. Check out this Facebook meme that got 10,000 likes.

Can you order Starbucks from a bar? Doesn't matter, it's a snowflake drink for a snowflake Lib.

Does this joke not have an actual punchline? Doesn't matter, get lost you stupid Lib!

Is this technically a joke by definition? Doesn't matter, if you believe it is a joke, then it's a joke! Just like modern currency.

If you put too much thought into a joke, it might grow in complexity. That could be confusing! The death knell of any conservative joke are the words, "Hmm, that's a thinker."

This brings us to rule number two...

NO THINKERS!

Let's take this Ben Garrison comic as an example.

Spell everything out! Label everything! Don't leave anything to the imagination! If your audience has to figure something out or draw their own conclusions, what fun is that?

Conservatives want to hear things that are familiar. They want their beliefs parroted back at them. You must regurgitate those beliefs and then just make it *sound* like a joke. Don't break new ground or introduce new ideas. Don't get all caught up in interesting wordplay or clever puns or subverting expectations.

All expectations should be fully verted.

That is definitely a word because I saw someone use it on Facebook. End of research.

Here is a helpful tip. If you can't imagine the joke coming out of the mouth of late night comedy genius GUTFELD!, then you need to dial it back a bit. Do not surpass GUTFELD! levels of humor. GUTFELD! is your touchstone.

youtube

Oh, GUTFELD! I laughed so hard I FELD it in my GUT.

See, I went too far with my fancy pun. That is not the GUTFELD! way.

But what happens if inspiration is fleeting and you can't pay attention to your comedy writing task because you don't believe ADHD is real and thus you are unmedicated?

Don't you worry. If you do happen to get writer's block or are distracted by a funny Pepe meme or a shiny object, just call your racist uncle and say the magic word... "Bidenflation."

As the ensuing unhinged rant darts from subject to subject without any kind of connecting theme, just start writing down every right wing buzzword you hear. Then just insert those buzzwords Mad Libs-style into a derivative joke format.

Let's practice!

Ex. 1: Why did the PRONOUNS cross the BORDER? To get to the DRAG QUEEN STORY HOUR!

Ex. 2: How many GENDERS does it take to GROOM a lightbulb? Two! One to hold the BUTT PLUG and one to GO WOKE, GO BROKE.

Great start! I'm sure with a polishing pass those will make more sense. Or not. The bar is pretty much "will it get clicks?" so we're not too worried about coherence.

Heh... Mad Libs.

U MAD, LIBS?

Get it? Cuz Libs are always mad? About the normalized bigotry and whatnot.

Jokes are always better when you need to explain them.

Oh! That's another rule. Write that down. Wisdom like this is why I am teaching this course, of course. Hah, that's like that horse show song. I got jokes coming out the wazoo. Wazoo is my butt, right? Siri, is wazoo a butt? Oof, I'm kinda spacing on what the next lesson is.

I really wish Matt Walsh hadn't flushed my Adderall down the crapper.

Can I get a second opinion? Top Gun was so good. What does Tom Cruise think about ADHD? He always has good takes on stuff like this. Did I leave my oven on? Shazam, what song goes doodoo doo doo doooooo? Can you vacuum a yard? Has anyone tried that? That sounds more like a marijuana thought than an ADHD tangent. I should double check the THC content of that cotton candy vape juice.

I'm flyin' off the rails over here.

Matt, are you super duper sure it's not real?

Okay, fine. I'm an "energetic boy."

I hope whichever fish absorbs my meds is extra focused on whatever fish shit he needs to get done.

COMEDY WRITING!

Sometimes it is best to learn through observation. Let's eavesdrop on an actual The BBee writer's room to see how the sausage is made...

"So what did your racist uncle have to say?"

"Well, first he texted me a cameraphone picture of Trump as an astronaut that he wants me to print out cuz he doesn't know what a crypto wallet is... but then he said all the woke schools are turning kids into a bunch of gay commies."

"EUREKA!"

Classic! The BBee writers strike again. I mean, they aren't striking. There is no commie clamoring for a union at The Babylon Bee. That's for damn sure. FOCUS!

Do you get the joke though? With the kids and the gay and the communism?

Because all of those woke schools totally cover complex economic theories in 4th grade and all it takes to turn gay is a little persuasion from a teacher with green hair. Libs of TikTok wouldn't lie about that. End of research.

Look at this public school teacher!

I mean, you knooow she has a litter box in her classroom. I can just sense it. End of research.

Sure... it is just a context-free picture of a person with green hair in front of a flag and you cannot actually judge the quality of their teaching ability from this. But yoouuu knoooooow she is skipping right over grammar lessons and giving detailed instructions on how to turn gay.

Step 1: Look at a bunch of butts. Step 2: Touch a bunch of butts. Step 3: Gay sex a bunch of butts.

(Replace butts with cooches for lesbians.)

Grooming accomplished.

And you definitely shouldn't look up that green-hair'd, nose ring'd educator and research her any further. Extensive research is for the Libs, bro. Because you definitely don't want to discover she is a passionate high school English teacher who makes fun content on TikTok in the hopes that people will buy things off her wishlist so her students will have a better learning experience. I mean, caring about her students? That's so gay.

YoooOOOuuuUUU knnnooooooOOOw she is a bad teacher because she has green hair and a flag. End. Of. Research.

So... you have your gay communist headline that is perfect to get all of those sweet conservative clicks. But you still have a full webpage to fill out with more words and stuff.

Now I want to see if you learned anything from my perfectly focused and informative teachings. I want you to write some jokes about kids becoming gay communists.

Ready? GO!

Joke #1 Little Billy has wealthy parents so all the students will share his cookie at snack time.

Joke #2 At the beginning of the day, students pick a new gender out of a hat but all the kids fight over Attack Helicopter.

Joke #3 At lunch, the students have to stand in a peanut butter and jelly bread line.

Joke #4 The teacher makes the kids take turns combing each others' hair for a grooming session.

Wait a sec... are those... THINKERS?

No no no no no! You made my brain all confused and thinky!

You need to calm down, you overachieving silly billy. You forgot the first rule... NO EFFORT.

Just make the same joke over and over again with slightly different wording. EASY!

Remember the classic final rule of comedy...

Jokes always get funnier the more you repeat them.

Anyway, that's probably enough... joke.

Now let's close this article out!

Maybe we can drop the pretense this is comedic satire and just do some hardcore pandering. Gotta own the Libs, amirite?

Gender theory and drag queens and guns, oh my! That is pure pander-monium.

Just shove those factless tactless Tucker talking points straight down their gullet. They'll forget this was supposed to be funny and shake their fist in the air with exaltation. And it's definitely a great idea to put the thought of gunning down drag queens in their heads. That won't backfire in any way!

Congratulations! You are now ready to "write" for The Babylon Bee.

Please purchase this official Trump NFT certificate for $99 that acknowledges that you have completed this course and have a very poor understanding of what satire actually is.

End of research.

#long post #trigger warning #matt walsh #transphobia #homophobia #satire #babylon bee

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