CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS // UNDERAGE Prompt Post // February 1-15
This post is for ANY AND ALL UNDERAGE PROMPTS. This means any pairing where one or both persons are under the age of 18.
PROMPTS AND FILLS MENTIONING REAL PERSONS CURRENTLY UNDER THE AGE OF 18 ARE BANNED.
They can not be aged up or mentioned in passing. Use OCs or someone else to fill the void.
ART DEPICTING UNDERAGED PERSONS IN ANY SITUATION IS ( Read more... )
PROMPTS AND FILLS MENTIONING REAL PERSONS CURRENTLY UNDER THE AGE OF 18 ARE BANNED.
They can not be aged up or mentioned in passing. Use OCs or someone else to fill the void.
ART DEPICTING UNDERAGED PERSONS IN ANY SITUATION IS ( Read more... )
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Lots of fic ;-)
Kinks for the tag:
child-abuse, underage, non-con, restraints, (maybe) hurt/comfort, non-con(past), (maybe) violence, pairing: Jensen/OMC
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The Jester
Dick had warned him. “Always lock your doors at night” and ”Never value anything more than justice and fighting crime” and most memorable in hindsight, ”Don’t trust people”
Jensen, at the wise old age of fourteen, had smiled, nodded and promptly forgotten about it. If only the fucker would have been more precise, he thought sometimes. But he wasn’t really angry - after all, that’d been good advice and he shouldn’t blame someone else for dismissing it.
“You’re so fine, so innocent,” the rough voice whispered in his ear and Jensen turned his head away and rolled his eyes. I’m as innocent as the Joker, you fucker he thought, but of ( ... )
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And after that time with the bed-sitting, there’d been training, training and even more training. He might call it brutal, or even harsh, but considering the things he could do now - the things he had to do now - it was just the right amount. In hindsight, the training hadn’t really been that bad, Jensen thought. In hindsight - and wasn’t that a bitch - the kindness, the care, the massages of his aching muscles after the strenuous efforts to hold his legs up for half an hour had been the bad things. The evil things.
He hadn’t noticed then. Maybe he’d been too tired or he just never cared enough to look for things like that, but fact was… Jensen hadn’t noticed until that night when Bruce came into his room, stroked him with a firm hand in places those hands had no business being and ( ... )
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From then on, Jensen had been expected to be Bruce’s bedmate. At least his own room was left alone now, their little ‘affairs’, as Bruce would call them, had been delegated to the master-bedroom. “Much more space”, Bruce said, “more comfortable.”
Not that Jensen cared much about comfort. He was there to be fucked, that much was clear, and his own wishes and wants didn’t count at all. Every “no” was taken as “yes please”, every “wait” as “hurry up”. He’d just stopped speaking at all - it wasn’t required, thank God - and ever since that disaster in July, when Jensen’d finally found the courage to speak up and go to the police, he just let everything pass over him.
His greatest wish though would be that Bruce left his own dick out of the equation and would concentrate on his billionaire-cock instead. Jensen hated - hated - to be forced into orgasm, and even when his researches online had told him that it was completely natural to respond, he always felt dirty and disgusting after ( ... )
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“So what are you saying?” Jeff stood in front of the cell the kid was in, looking through the glass in the door. He didn’t seem angry that Jared had grabbed a hostage even though Jeff hated hostage-taking. ”Too messy, too dangerous, too traumatizing for the victims” he would say, and in most cases Jared agreed. Just… this was about Jeff, about family. The usual rules didn’t apply for family ( ... )
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Jensen heard the door’s lock at once, but didn’t move. He wasn’t dumb enough to believe the Jester wouldn’t know where he was - the little window wasn’t exactly hidden. But wouldn’t not make it easy for him, and up high, he felt like he had an advantage. Probably not true, but still - couldn’t hurt to stay up here.
The man who entered was quite certainly the Jester - same height, same built, same stupid hat and costume, same reddish-brown pants and high boots with those silly tips, same jacket with the weird tassled top-part, all those stupid leather-ties and most of all the very stupid mask. Red glaze around the eyes and on the cheeks enhancing the light-gold of the face, big eye-holes which showed those eerily fake blue eyes underneath - contacts, for sure - and the large mouth and wide nose all lend to a weirdly friendly, extremely creepy appearance.
All was the same, and yet Jensen peaked up when the man entered. Because something was different, and that could mean bad things - or just interesting things ( ... )
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“Shit. You didn’t abduct me, did you?”
“Uh… I’d like to say I just borrowed you?”
“No…. no no. You didn’t kidnap me. You weren’t even there. You… there was a reason you weren’t there, because … fuck, the police already had you, didn’t they? So you weren’t there at the bank - it was your brother!”
Silence from below, but suddenly Jensen just knew. Just knew he was right. “Holy shit, you’re Jeff Padalecki. They had you, too much evidence, and only real solid proof would get you out of this mess. Damn, that’s smart. That’s smart! So your brother went to be the Jester to grab me, and … you never wanted to hold me here, didya? Or… should ask your brother I guess. I’d go back, tell everyone how I was captured by the Jester - the true Jester ( ... )
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“Robin. My name’s Robin, you ass.”
“No.” Jared was suddenly dead-serious. “Robin is some selfish little asshole who let a kid walk right into the hands of a pedophilic madman with hero-issues. Robin is an asshole - and your name isn’t Robin.”
“Jared.”
“No. No, Jeff. Who does that? I mean, if the police doesn’t believe him…well. I can even see where they’re coming from. But someone who knows what’s happening, who knows he’s telling the truth just refusing? That’s another level of sick.”
Jensen didn’t think that was entirely fair. Dick had known what would happen -yes. But if he’d known, he’d have to know and Jensen was pretty aware of the magnetism his mentor possessed. Then, there was the thrill of chasing bad guys, the believe that what they did was right and righteous ( ... )
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