bakerstreet | It's all yours, baby

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It's all yours, baby

Doesn't everyone like to be pampered and spoiled? You could certainly understand the desire. How about receiving the benefits of experience and knowledge...through someone else, someone older than you and more distinguished? Be good, then, and you'll be rewarded. Be bad - well, remember: a punishment isn't off the table for someone with your youth.

— OR —

They're so young - yet so, so tempting. But you know what they say. The more forbidden the fruit, the sweeter the juice. They're absolutely off-limits. And wouldn't you love to taste them, no matter if you feel guilty or not? Look at yourself. Do you feel like a pervert? This person could be an outlier, or maybe you've always had a weakness, even if you didn't realize it before. At least you can take care of them like few others chasing after them could. You know exactly what they want and need.

Comment with your character, information, and what role they'll play.
Is there an age gap? Is this actually illegal? It could be kink play, though, or characters acting older and younger.
Please note that there also doesn't need to be daddy kink "play" if you don't want it. There could just be an older/younger or an inexperienced/refined dynamic. Just be sure to clarify how heavy or light you'd prefer to go.
Older ladies are fine, too.
Reply to others.
Thread.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

((Sub LB preferred. Can be daddy sub too. Paragraphs appreciated.))

[OOC: Care to give this another try for them?]

ooc: sure!

[OOC: Great! Let me know if this needs tweaking.]

Peter had a hundred reasons to get his ass out of Beacon Hills and stay away as long as possible, not the least of which was his perplexing habit of getting drawn into McCall's constant battles against anything and everything that was supernatural and obnoxiously powerful. There were a handful of pro's to sticking around, as well-- things like a great downtown condo, well-established contacts among the less-than-legal community, and the biggest surprise of all, Lydia Martin.

Once upon a time, the lovely redhead had been the perfect pawn he could exploit in his bid to restore himself from near death. As it turned out, the hooks he'd sunk into Lydia's head weren't so easily dislodged, and pulled her back to him again and again, her friends none the wiser about what she and Peter got up to in that fancy downtown condo of his.

Hearing the knock on his door right on time, Peter let Lydia in, smiling the kind of smile only he could make look both warm and smug at the same time. Peter reached out and stroked the girl's cheek. "And how is my little girl doing tonight?"

Lydia wasn't pretending to be innocent in this. Is this particularly mentally healthy? No. Could this blow up in her face? It is very likely. But being an integral part of Scott's team meant she was always around death. So if this was how she chose to blow off steam, then at least it was fun.

Arriving fifteen minutes early, she adjusts her skirt to pull it just a little higher. She was already wearing a tight blouse, her red hair softly curled and fallen past her shoulders. After she knocks, and Peter opens the door, she can't help the smirk when he answers. "I've had better days, but I think it will be a better night," she replied, walking into his apartment.

Even Peter, for all his usual villany, wasn't really the kind to take advantage of an actual innocent in a situation like this. Lydia, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly what she wanted to get out of the arrangement, and with them both on that same page, everything worked out nicely.

"Here for some, er, physical therapy, then? Well, I can promise that as usual, I'll do all I can to make sure of that." As he closed the door, his eyes followed the young woman inside, smiling as he took in the curves of Lydia's figure, already imagining how much fun it was going to be getting her out of those clothes.

[Usualy I play Ranmaru between 16-18, but happy to reduce or age him. Not likely to be the dominate party.]

[ The younger party || Humanized || Anthro by request || Info here ]

Edited 2017-09-19 01:56 (UTC)

_{[Younger party, can age down a little if required but no younger than 16, my kingdom for Ardyn or Gladio, but crosscanon more than welcome]}

[ ooc: Always happy to be of service. ]

In one world, Prompto would awaken in the empty storage room at the facility that gave birth to him fully dressed in his snow gear and somewhat alone. But in this one, he is anything but alone. In fact, there is a soft touch sliding, tracing around his features as he awakens, and warm golden eyes watching his every flutter to see when consciousness has properly taken hold.

"It's a miracle that you were able to survive the harshness of the climate, my dear boy. And to find your way here, of all places. How very impressive."

He's groggy, uncertain, and the gentle touch is confusing and unexpected given the dim recollections of what had happened to him before he fell asleep. No, not fell asleep, passed out, in the cold... he thinks... it's fuzzy and he'd rather focus on where he is now and what's going on.

Then that voice filters into his consciousness and his eyes fly open, jerking away from the touch with a horrified look.

"What are you doing here, where am I, wha-" he stops the automatic barrage of questions and narrows his eyes at Ardyn, focusing on the one that seemed most compelling at the moment "Were you just... stroking me?"

One magenta eyebrow twitches in barely contained amusement as his lips pull into a sly smile that somehow seems to press against Prompto's personal space even from there.

"Not the phrase I'd have used for that particular gesture. But I was touching you, yes. You're a rather... lovely specimen." He lifts his chin. "I'm glad to see that I was able to restore you from your unfortunate sojourn through the storm. Not a mark, I see."

The touching and the look makes his skin crawl and he can't help but feel even more creeped out by Ardyn than he usually is. He draws his arms around himself, pulling his coat closed as if for extra protection.

"..You healed me?" he asks suspiciously. Why would he do that? What did he want?

"Of course, my dear boy," as he settles back against a shipping crate. "I certainly didn't wish you to come to any harm. You've never been anything but kind to me, after all."

He tilts his head thoughtfully at Prompto.

"Or did you think that little display back on the train was about you?" He doesn't wait for an answer before shaking his head, waving a hand. "Certainly not. A matter of unfortunate necessity, but the last thing I want is to see you dead."

He has to admit it's sort of true, despite finding the older man more than a little unsettling and really not trusting him, he doesn't think he's ever been outright mean to Ardyn's face... still, they were technically enemies and Ardyn did just get him shoved off a train, so no matter his words Prompto wasn't about to take them at face value.

"So why have you brought me here? What do you want with me?"

"Those are two very different answers," he informs him smoothly. "As I brought you here for one purpose but I admit, thinking further, that I want something quite different from you."

His eyes had started wandering along Prompto's arms and legs, up and down before finding his way back to Prompto's face, his eyes. He meets them with another smile.

"After all, you deserve to know the truth of your origins, the reality behind who and what you are. But on reflection, I don't think Verstael deserves the title which his genetic material might bestow upon him. Instead, I think... I'll do as I ever do."

Which is when he reaches forward and puts his fingers around Prompto's jaw, his touch light but firm.

"Take what I so richly deserve."

The uncomfortable chill returns as Ardyn's gaze sweeps over his body, and it's all Prompto can do not to immediately try and hide himself. He holds still, however, not wanting to appear as vulnerable as he feels right now.

The words are a confusion of information. His origins, who and what he is, Verstael... it doesn't mean anything to him but it isn't difficult to fill in the gaps, to work out what Ardyn is hinting at, after all Prompto knows where he'd been born, even if he doesn't have a lot of other detail. Before he can stop himself, his hand strays to his right wrist, brushing at the fabric covering the mark he knows is there.

As for Ardyn's newfound purpose, and what he wanted to take... there's a sharp intake of almost frightened breath at the firm touch of Ardyn's hand on his jaw and Prompto's eyes narrow.

"You're not taking anything from me..."

He can't help a faint chuckle at that answer: how very characteristic, especially the part where he was as terrified and unsure of how he'd accomplish his boasting as he was passionate about it.

"You misunderstand," and one finger runs along the path he'd trod already, the curve of his jaw. "As I mean to take nothing from you. What I want from you is best given and received."

There's really only one way to take the stroke of Ardyn's finger along his jaw, the touch is too sensual to be anything else, and the uncertainty in Prompto's gaze only becomes more obvious. For all his flirting with everybody pretty who crosses his path, he has no idea how to handle those kind of advances, least of all from enemies. He can only hope he's wrong.

"Fine then. I'm not going to give you anything." his response is slightly less confident than he wants it to be this time.

"And why is that?" he asks with a tilt of his head one way, then the other. "I can assure you that whatever you gave would be returned, in kind, and with considerable skill."

He leans in just a little, his voice soft and fervent, honey warmed enough to run quickly along the skin.

"Only a blind man would be unable to see how much you hunger for it. Not the physical release, of course, you're a capable enough boy for that. No, the focus. To know that for at least a moment, an instant, you are the sole focus, the sole concern of another soul. To feel hands that only wish to bring you pleasure, to hear the ragged breath slip past those lips beg... and give what is needed. To know that no one is placating you, allowing you the real estate in their lives out of pity or kindness... but to be absorbed and awash in a sea of sensation meant only for you."

There's definitely no mistaking his intent after that little speech, but Prompto can't help but be a little taken aback. He has to admit it's not entirely untrue, Ardyn's right, he is desperate for that kind of recognition. To be the centre of someone's world, even if only for a little while, to not worry or feel like he's intruding or being humoured, to know with total certainty that somebody wants him... the thought of it is almost too tempting to resist, however much he doesn't want that person to be Ardyn.

"I..that's.. I mean..." finding a response seems to be giving him some trouble, but he finally manages to force the words out "I don't need that. Especially not from you." he hopes it sounds truer than it is.

"Need," he agrees with a nod, "perhaps not. But want..." and his smile returns, "I appreciate your candor. Clearly, you want it. But your loyalty, of course. Characteristic of you, possibly to a fault: your loyalty to the Chosen King."

But his voice doesn't go ugly and cruel at the mention of Noctis, not this time. Instead, he strokes his finger along the other side of Prompto's jaw.

"What if I gave you something you need... to give us both something we want?"

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