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wittlesissyb4by · 10 hours

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Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Here

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.” Mr. Pennyworth says.

It feels like a dagger has been shoved into my stomach. I’m not sure what to say, so he just continues anyway.

“Your productivity is by far the lowest in the company, you’re not reliable to show up on time or even at all, and your long hair is unprofessional and not befitting of this company’s standards.” He clears his throat, sifting through some papers. “We also have reason to believe you called-in on Friday without actually being sick.”

“What makes you think that?” I say, finally speaking up for the first time.

He shrugs, “Let’s just say we got an anonymous tip.”

******

“Everything alright with you?” Max asks, moving his pawn forward to free up his bishop.

“I’m fine,” I say, half-heartedly moving my knight with no clear plan in place. “Lost my job today.”

Max frowns, moving his bishop out as I expected. “I’m really sorry, dude. That sucks to hear.”

“Yea…it’s fine, I guess,” I sigh, “Didn’t much like it there much anyway.”

He still hasn’t said anything about the other day. I’m not sure if he actually saw anything, or he did and just doesn’t want to bring it up. How do you talk about seeing a bunch of sissy toys and diapers in your roommate’s room? Is that even something to talk about?

I remember back in college when my roommate at the time had found a slew of sissy porn on my computer. I was there when he saw everything. That sick feeling in my stomach took forever to go away. It’s back now.

“Well if you start applying for jobs, you can always use me as a reference. Just say I’m an old manager or something.” He says, putting his Queen in a precarious position. I seize the opportunity and take it. I realize too late that it left my King open for an easy assault. An obvious trap I should have seen coming.

“Checkmate.” Max says, smiling.

******

As the weeks went by, so did the job opportunities and applications. I rarely received any callbacks, and even if I got an interview, I’d either get ghosted afterwards or they would call and say something to the degree of “after careful consideration, we’ve decided to go with another candidate.”

God, the job market is rough.

My bank account is dangerously low. I probably should have done a better job of saving for times like this, but I guess I was more excited about buying outfits and diapers. Still, I’m not going to make it through the next month without some sort of income. It’s time to have the awkward conversation with Max.

“Hey, man. Can I talk to you for a sec?” I say, shuffling my feet into the living room.

He pauses the hockey game and turns to me, “what’s up?”

It’s such a weird topic to bring up, but I have to bite the proverbial bullet. “I’m having trouble finding a job…” I say sheepishly, “I didn’t work long enough at my last one to get severance, so…I’m a little low on funds.”

He just sits there, always with that stoic expression, listening intently. He doesn’t say anything, just lets me continue.

“So…umm..I’m uh, gonna be short on rent this month.”

Again he continues to stare at me, as if deep in thought, stroking his beard. It almost seems a little exaggerated. Like he’s acting.

“I see,” he finally says. “So you need me to help you?”

As demoralizing as it is to admit, I have to. “Yes…”

He smiles. “Okay. No problem.”

“Really?”

“Yea.”

I don’t know what to say. A weight of anxiety and fear is lifted off my shoulders. I can feel it melt away as I start to relax. “Thanks man, I really do appreciate it. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise. Anything you need, just let me know.”

His eyes have a strange glint to them. Like he was hoping I would say exactly that.

“I actually do have a job in mind for you,” He says, “You can start today.”

I sense a sudden shift in the air around the room. He leans back on the couch a bit, patting the seat next to him. I find myself sitting down beside him, not exactly sure what’s going on, but sensing something amiss.

Max puts his hand on my leg, “it’s okay, nothing to worry about.” he says softly. I feel myself release a breath, feeling comforted, but still a little uneasy.

It’s like he’s holding something back. Like he’s trying to find the words but doesn’t know how to say it. I wonder if he knows. If he saw the things in my room.

“I saw the things in your room.” He says.

Yea, I’d say he knows…

My stomach does that familiar churning. The shame of what I've done, or been caught doing coursing through me. “I-i can explain…”

“Don’t bother.” He says, waving it away. “I’ve always had my suspicions.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’ve always tried to be so reserved and secretive with my true desires. I didn’t think anyone else would notice.

He shifts on the couch again. When he does, something catches my eye, there’s a very large bulge in his shorts.

Noticing me looking at the log snaking down his leg, he starts running his hand over it and smiling. “Have you ever sucked a cock before?”

I realize my mouth is hanging open. I gulp, shaking my head. “Not a real one.”

He laughs at that, it breaks some of the tension, then he shrugs. “Well, there’s a first time for everything…” he gently pulls at his zipper, snaking it down ever so slowly. But he doesn’t pull it out, just leaves it open, letting my imagination run wild. “Do you want to suck it?” He asks.

Again I find myself dumbfounded, this is all happening so fast, but before I can think about it I find the word escaping my lips.

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “Good, because you were going to have to do it anyway. This place ain’t cheap.”

After our awkward laughter dies down, I’m left in the precarious position of what to do next. Luckily, he guides me after several seconds of silence.

“Open my pants.”

I reach a shaky hand to his button, it takes me a bit to get my fumbling fingers to work it free.

Again, I’m lost as to what to do next. Should we kiss? Do I close my eyes? What do I—

“Take it out.”

His direction helps. It’s easier for me to follow orders than it is to take initiative in such uncharted territory. I reach my hand into the waistband of his boxers, feeling around for it, my heart beating out of my chest. It doesn’t take me long at all to find the warm, fleshy member. I gently pull it back, it bends a bit before snapping out of the boxers to stare straight up at me.

It’s big. Very big. I can barely wrap my fingers around it. The veins are popping out the side, and I can even feel his own heart beating through it. Pulsing. Rapidly. He’s just as nervous as I am but he doesn’t show it.

“Well...it’s not gonna suck itself…”

I realize I’ve been staring at it for a while. I use my other hand to wipe the drool from my mouth. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Somehow my throat feels both dry and wet at the same time, it doesn’t even make sense. Finally, I push past the nervous excitement, and lean forward. His cock seems to grow as it gets closer to my face. I’ve imagined this moment over and over for years. I’ve watched countless videos through the lens of girls wearing a GoPro on their head taking big, giant dicks into their mouths. But somehow this is different. I’m the girl now. It’s my POV, and it’s what I've always dreamed of.

I open my mouth when I’m inches away and close my eyes, imagining I'm one of the girls in those videos.

The head of his dick already feels different than my dildos. It’s squishier, warmer, and tastes just a little bit salty, but in a good way. In a great way. This is what I've always wanted, and I’ve finally gotten it.

I hear a soft moan escape my lips just before they close around his cock. It sounds pathetic, but I don’t care. Things finally feel…right. Like this is what was supposed to be in my mouth all along. All those things they told me in sissy porn were true.

I take him deeper in my mouth. I find it easier to slide it down my throat than my dildo. I take it as far as I can until my eyes water, then go back up for a breath.

In the overwhelming rush of stimuli, I forgot all the techniques I’ve practiced for so long. I try to remember: swirl your tongue, suction on the way up, not down, and most importantly: keep it nice and wet.

I let the drool run from my mouth, using my hand to coat his cock with it, taking a breath before diving back down.

“Someone’s been practicing.” He breathes.

I melt at his praise. I always wanted to be a cocksucker, and I always hoped I’d be a good cocksucker. But you never really know, my dildo doesn’t make noises.

But him? He was breathing heavily, moaning, groaning, and doing all the things that told me I was doing something right. It ignited a fire in me. With every grunt he made I found myself getting more and more enthusiastic so as to make it happen again.

Leaning over across the couch next to him is a bit awkward, though.

He notices. “Get on your knees.”

I take him out of my mouth and scramble a little too eagerly onto the floor between his legs.

He looks down at me, almost victoriously, like his plan has come to fruition. I am in no way perturbed. In fact, my cock is screaming inside my pants. I don’t think I've ever been this hard in my life.

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.” He says, apparently noticing my penis poking prominently through my pants. “You can touch it.”

Is that his decision? I guess so…because as soon as he says it I find my hand going inside my pants.

“No no.” He says. “On the outside. Rub it like you’re a girl. A sissy girl.”

Just the sound of that word gives me a wave of pleasure. I’m so hot and bothered that my body is quaking. I love the way he’s dominating me. Taking my power away so I don’t have to make the decisions myself, and therefore making me more relaxed about doing something I may otherwise have chickened-out on. Would I be here, on my knees, about to suck his cock if he hadn’t made me? Is he making me? Or am I doing it on my own volition?

I knead the front of my crotch. Feeling my throbbing cock and nestling my aching balls. I feel a bit weird with him watching me, so I turn my attention back to his cock. Well, more specifically, his balls. I’ve learned that when worshipping a man—as I’m doing right now—maintaining eye contact while lapping at his balls is one of the perfect ways to show your submission. I also know (from being on the receiving end) that having your balls sucked does not feel nearly as good as porn makes it seem, it’s actually kind of painful.

So after licking his sack and stroking for several seconds, I spit on his dick and take it back into my mouth with renewed vigor. My own balls are aching at this point, I can feel them turning blue. I use two fingers and twirl them in circles over my pants while I bob up and down on Max’s dick.

“Fuck yea…” he moans. God it feels so good to make him make those noises. “I’m gonna cum.”

So am I.

Knowing he’s on the verge gets me insatiably hot. I want nothing more than to get him to bust in my mouth, like some sort of primal need.

I hear myself moaning again. I’m not sure if it’s from the pleasure I'm giving or receiving.

“You want it in your mouth?” He asks considerately.

“Mhmm!!” I swoon hungrily around his dick. My hand gyrates over my own. The thought of making a man cum in my mouth is too much to handle. I feel a warmth fill my pants as I shake and convulse, trying to keep my focus on his dick while I spasm in an intense orgasm.

I feel the desire begin to fade. The reality of what I'm doing seeping in. This is my roommate, and I’m on my knees in our living room slobbering all over his big dick like a girl he just met on Tinder.

“Ohh yea…” he twitches. I can feel the head of his penis swelling, even more than it was before. It gets me excited again. Eager. Desperate. “Right there, just like that! I’m almost there…”

I’ve never been on the receiving end of that statement. Guys saying they’re almost there but are actually a few minutes out.

My cheeks are starting to burn, my throat is getting sore, it burns from the bile of gagging, I need air, to take a break and a breath, but I don’t want to lose my progress. I need to power through and do what I need to do.

He grips the cushion of the couch. His legs flail and tense. The head of his cock is bigger than ever. His breathing becomes labored, syncopated, and then it stops.

That’s when I felt the first gush hit my tongue. Even though I was expecting it, I wasn’t exactly ready for it. Another pump, and then another. I worry I won’t be able to hold it all.

He gives a big exhale, and that’s when I know he’s spent. I hold his dick and his cum in my mouth a bit, not exactly sure what to do next. I suck a bit more to pull out any remaining drops, then take him out of my mouth.

The jizz is warmer than I expected it to be, saltier too, but it doesn’t taste bad. It’s my reward. A token of my accomplishment. I just sucked my first real dick, and it was everything I hoped it would be.

I gulp down the load, smiling gratefully like any good little slut would.

“Good job.” He says, patting me on the head like I’m a well-behaved puppy. “Now run along…”

That’s it. He doesn’t say anything else. Just pulls up his pants, zips them back up, grabs the remote, and resumes the Hockey game.

A little disheveled, I wipe the slobber from my mouth, get up, and head out of the room like a discarded toy. What did I expect to happen? For us to cuddle and whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ear? I don’t even think I would want that. But to be thrown away like that makes me feel…used.

Then I remember the wet, sticky stain in my pants. A reminder that I enjoyed myself, a lot.

So I guess it’s no surprise that when I got back to my room, I shut the door, locked it, and started enjoying myself two more times…

To Be Continued

#roomies

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kafus · 2 days

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i’m gonna be honest as someone with severe gifted kid syndrome my dumb ass never learned how to study. ever. so despite it only being 5 days so far, i am shocked and impressed with myself that i have actually managed to dedicate 30 minutes everyday to a proper study habit. i have literally never done this before, all my previous attempts to do regular studying like that have barely reached 2 days. and on top of that… i’m like… surprised it WORKS?? i know that studying is a real thing that people do for a reason but i have always learned new things by taking them all in at once or not at all, something i obviously can’t do with an entire language, and i have no concept of memorization over time/repetition. like i am not familiar with the effects of studying. so i keep being surprised at the memorization compounding

if i’m so amazed after 5 days i’m excited to see where i’m at months or a year from now yknow

#kiki was here #kiki.txt #kiki learns jp

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batfamhyperfixation · 1 day

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So Jason died and Bruce mourned, falling into a depressive state and overall not doing well. Then Tim came into the picture to help him like he did and eventually became Robin. Then Jason was resurrected.

But imagine if Bruce was finally getting better, Tim has been taking over the role of robin and Bruce wasn’t as depressed as he was at the beginning, it wasn’t great but it was manageable, and then Bruce gets a phone call,

“Hey Bruce, I-I don’t know what’s happening and I’m scared, can you come get me?” To which Bruce asks who it is, getting the response “It’s Jason, Bruce. I don’t know where I am or how I got here, and everything hurts. I just want to go home.” And Bruce hangs up. His son is dead, he can’t be calling.

Jason calls again, more insist and desperate, leaving voicemails when Bruce stopped picking up. Bruce tells Tim, who thinks it is a prank caller, a messed up one at that, so Bruce blocks the number.

Jason, confused and scared, gets convinced if he can just find Bruce, get to him, everything will be ok. He gets to Gotham, only to find quite a bit of time has passed. How did that happen? Bruce probably thought he went missing! He has to find him. But as he is roaming the streets of Gotham, he comes across tvs showing the news, Batman and Robin arrested a criminal last night, but how could that be? He was Robin! Then it dawns on him, he had been replaced. Bruce wanted nothing to do with him. He had blocked his calls and he had gotten a new robin, how much clearer does he need to get? Something in him broke, and suddenly his vision was as white as the streak that had formed in his hair, he lost control, didn’t come to until he was at the boy’s throat, Tim, his replacement

He had to get out. Eventually he formed the outlaws, he got away. Slowly but surely the severed ties started to mend, trust started to get rebuilt, and sure there were still sore spots (i.e. killing the joker) but it was getting better between Jason and Bruce.

Then Jason is hurt, in trouble. Bruce went into a desperate panic searching for him, he couldn’t lose Jason, not again. Finally the Justice league tracked them, and Bruce was the first ready to go. The justice league was gonna have him stay behind because he hadn’t slept well in days and he was hardly in a good enough place to be out in the field, but this was his kid, he demanded to be part of the ground crew. When he finally reached Jason, he was livid, cradling his 6’4” hurt child, trying not to get upset when he asked “Jason, why didn’t you call me?” It wasn’t so much a real question as a plea, ‘Jason, all I wanted was for you to call me, I wish you called me, I wish you let me protect you.’

And Jason, probably slightly delirious, whimpers out “I called you, I called you so many times, but you kept hanging up. I needed your help and you just kept hanging up. Why don’t you love me anymore? I promise I’m the same. I know you think the pit changed me, that I’m broken now, but I promise it’s still me, so why did you have to hang up? I know you have Tim now, but I still need you. You’re still supposed to protect me.” And bruce is so confused, until for the first time in years he thinks about that prank caller, but it wasn’t a prank caller, was it?

#this got away from me #got quite long and angsty #2 days late for Jason’s anniversary oops let’s pretend this was 2 days ago #jason todd #bruce wayne #batman #jason todd robin #jason todd headcanon #been a while since I’ve written anything Jason focused

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itsabouttimex2 · 1 day

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Feeling evil rn :)

So I'm roleplaying with LSO MK, and currently the Y/N is very injured in their first fight against someone, since they decided to be a sneaky monkie kid and try to train themself somewhere again from MK.

Problem is that Y/N hasn't really be trained at all and doesn't know how to fight or even USE the staff.

And the Monkie Knight is not reacting very well at ALL.

Let’s Start Over:

Battle Scars

You lay weakly across the ground, breathing hard and heavy. Arms roughly scraped against smooth concrete, shins kicked to swollen bruises. Blood from your nose and mouth. Head pounding. Everything hurts.

But you aren’t in any real danger. Not since your mentor’s prompt and almost brutal arrival on the scene.

“…Monkie Knight? How… how did you know I was…?”

Jin- and Yin, even though there was only supposed to be one of them because that was the rumor circulating and you wouldn’t have come out here on your own if you had known it would be both instead of just one-

Jin and Yin both lay limply across the ground, broken limbs strewn sloppily about their prone bodies.

They aren’t dead.

MK wouldn’t kill in front of you. Really, he doesn’t like to kill at all. But especially not in front of his cherished student.

“I told you,” your mentor whispers, clutching your head tight to his chest. “How many times did I tell you, kiddo? How many times did I lecture you about this? We spent hours going over this.”

Your wounds are many, each one a different shape, size, severity. Red and purple paint your skin, bruises and gashes along the length of your limbs and chest.

Nothing fatal, and that was clear at even a casual glance- but it didn’t make your mentor any less worried.

“Idiot,” he murmurs to your ear. That mild insult is the literal harshest word you’ve heard escape his mouth. Maybe you’ve earned it, with a stunt like this. “My little idiot. I can’t trust you at all, can I? You are never going outside without me again.”

MK presses a kiss to your forehead, stroking sweat-stained strands of hair from your eyes. “I shouldn’t have taken my eyes of off you, not even for a moment. I should’ve gotten here sooner. I should’ve protected you,” says a small and guilty voice, as though you had been killed instead of beaten down by two gibbering idiots. “I won’t let you get hurt again, Y/N.”

It’s rare that he calls you by your real name- you’ve been affectionally dubbed Clover, a reference to your position as the fourth bearer of the Ruyi Jingu Bang.

If MK is dropping that moniker, it’s simply more proof of how serious things have gotten.

His arms snake around your body, one hand resting under your thighs, the other supporting your upper back. Another kiss to your bleeding forehead, then he speaks:

“Let’s go home.”

You can’t bring yourself to answer beyond a nod, some level of shame and embarrassment sealing your lips. All you manage is a short nod before settling into his arms for the trek.

Every step forward is near agony, jostled about in spite of how careful MK is trying to be with you. The ground nearest to him is left uneven from the prior fight, broken and crumbled by powerful impacts. You bounce about, feeling all the bruises along you scrape against the torn clothing on you. At your first whimper, the Monkie Knight looks down at you, caught between worry born of anger and a deep pity.

“We’re gonna have words, Y/N, trust me. But I’ll get you patched up first, huh? Just close your eyes and let me get you home.”

Doing as requested, you try to focus on the beat of your mentor’s heart instead of his droning footsteps and the buzzing pain blooming across your skin.

The journey is slow and grueling, but MK reassures you several times both verbally and physically, stopping to adjust his grip on you and taking a moment to praise how well you’ve been doing.

And soon enough you’re home on Flower Fruit Mountain, bundled up under a blanket as MK stomps about the house in search of medical supplies.

“I can’t believe you. I cannot believe you, Clover. Pulling a stunt like this. Hands out. Now.”

You offer them up without hesitation, causing MK to falter with his sternness. “Good,” he praises, taking your left hand between his own.

A golden seal crackles to life on your palm, a severe restriction of powers. “No more staff.”

Then, he takes your right hand, prompting an exact replica of the first glittering power-limiter to sparkle into existence. “No more clones or shape-shifting.”

A final kiss to your forehead prompts a much more ominous seal to blossom across your skin, a bright golden line winding all the around your head, reminiscent of a single-banded crown.

“And no Mystic Monkey form, either.”

Something deep inside you starts to ache, a severance of your true identity forming within. All from a simple fatherly action that is no doubt being performed for “your own good”.

“Hands,” he repeats, grabbing a washcloth and a small water basin. You offer them again, a little slower this time, struggling to accommodate the newfound emptiness in your chest. MK begins to scrub your arms clean with a mild soap and warm water, frowning as he surveys the damage.

“You’re lucky. So, so lucky. If I hadn’t gotten there in time, you would have… they would have…”

A pause. Your mentor takes a deep breath. He pushes a small washcloth into your hands, frowning a little deeper as he rolls up the fabric of your pants.

“Pat your arms dry,” is his simple command. You slowly do as told, feeling as though your arms have been burdened with lead. As you work the wetness from your tattered skin, the Monkie Knight tends to your legs.

When all the wounds have been cleaned and your arms are no longer smothered in water and soap, MK takes them again and starts to apply large bandages to the worst of your wounds.

Each one is glittery, some shade of gold or red, branded with a smiling monkey face in the middle. They had been pricier than any store brand, but your mentor didn’t mind shelling out for the extra quality and cute designs.

The brighter colors and sparkling material made you smile when they caught in the light, and you smiling made him happy. They were an investment that paid themselves back several times over, in his opinion.

Your smile is one of his favorite things, now that he thinks of it. It’s proof that he’s doing well as a mentor, that he’s keeping you healthy and safe.

But looking at your face right now shows only regret and pain- maybe a little bit of emotional hurt alongside the discomfort caused by the struggles of battle.

“…I love you,” he says, hoping to cut the cold tension with a few warm words. “Even when you make bad decisions.”

“…I love you too,” is your delayed answer, causing the Monkie Knight to sigh in relief. Maybe you’re only saying to because he said it first. Or maybe because he’s done so much that you think you owe him that love.

Maybe you were on the verge of saying it yourself, without prompting or reason.

Regardless, MK drops everything to scoop you up in his powerful arms, his muscles straining to give a proper squeeze, pushing every bit of air free from your lungs.

“I won’t ever let you go again,” he says.

You doubt that he’s joking.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere MK #Let’s Start Over #Yandere Mentor

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batfambrainrotbeloved · 10 hours

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The Sleepy Kitten Cafe 🐱💤

(The Drakes Spoiled Brat. (im sorry dad))

Ill solidify an actual layout design later (since this will become a major setting for most of the fic) BUT for now you get a shitty collage design Edit- Fuck it I was gonna wait till post chapter 7 but I decided to publish now so here you go!

Info (may or may not become relevent in the fic, I just think is neat also for my own reference)

Located on The Narrows of Gotham city

All utensils and containers are thrifted so none of them match

Upstairs lounge is a mini library/book store

They sell baked goods and have a shitty service window where you can order diner style food/snacks

Regular game nights/other events (including jazz night which Tim vehelementaly refuses to attend)

Not uncommon for random strays to come hang out (no one tell their manager)

Have a photo wall of regular customers (it took several weeks of begging before Tim allowed Gwen to snap his pic and pin it up)

They have a whole buisness card holder on the counter people can advertise their shit

Owned by a former hippie from Washington and her husband from Sikkim

Almost gets robbed once a week but hey its Gotham, what can you do? (emphasis on almost)

Employees (named thus far, who I will also probably draw later)-

Gwen Parkins she/her- Main Barista Alans (Tims) BFF, utter sweetheart, but will cry if yelled at. Also plans like 80% of the work events. Wears clips in her hair that are "on theme" for whatever event is for the day (cat ones for work obvi) Never checks her bank account so doesnt notice Tim slipping in an extra 500-3k every month (tax free of course) and she ends up saving or donating half of it anyways. From the Narrows.

Zeek (Ezikel) Zoref he/they- Cook/Security Very open stoner, likes bullying his friends (kinda an asshole, but will apologize if too far), also loves Gotham for the fact he can and will fist fight customers given the oppertunity, and there are PLENTY of oppertunies. Carries around a bat. Almost became a Joker Goon out of nessesity but by sheer happenstance he tried robbing Alan who somehow got him an interview at the Cafe, even with zero experience. (Owes his life, but will never admit it) Allergic to mint and mourns mint gum everyday. From Crime Alley.

Obsidian Fowler they/them- Manager/Barista The reason shit gets done, newly recognized artist, meticiously does inventory because they find it fun. Gets stressed about hygine when his coworkers keep sneaking random strays in the cafe, but weak to begging. Did not give in when they brought in a Raccoon. Keeps offering Alan a job because "Please I cannot be the only competent member here" From Old Gotham.

#trash tim au #the drakes spoiled brat #tim drake #FULL NAME TIME WHOOO #gwen parkins #zeek zorof #obsidian fowler #the sleepy kitten cafe #tim drake angst #timothy drake #cardinal dc #my fic #batfam au #batfamily #batfam fic #batfam angst

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