#this actually makes the 20th fic of my promptathon but im still going to do a wifey bonus fic because the support has been so overwhelminnng

[setsailslash]

Hi! I don't know if you are still taking prompts, but if you are, i would love to see straight macho red hood getting stuck in a wall (or fence) and being used by some thugs and naughty street-rats. Love your work!

so this prompt had me stuck (hah) for the longest fucking time that i almost gave up on it because im not a noncon kinda gal and also because i never could quite figure out a concept that made stuck in a wall trope make sense. but here it is!! classed up because nothing but the best for my boy 💖

warning: this is consensual mob/jay with a bonus scene of (slight dubcon) father/son incest, if that doesn’t float your boat, stop at “daddy dearest” and you will still have all the mob/jay content my gutter trash brain can provide.

Side A.

The tiny bulb over the doorway was nearly inconspicuous. 

It was a simple system really. When it was green, it meant the room was available. And when it was red, it meant the room was occupied.

A hand on the door knob, a twist, and an easy push inwards: Four unfurnished walls in one solid colour and a hole in one. 

Impossible to miss really with the room set up just for this, and Jason got to say, he was impressed.

When he took over the Iceberg Lounge, he didn’t know about the kind of entertainment hidden in the back rooms of the club. He knew Penguin for all of his shady dealings, knew the man’s schedule down to his very last shipment of umbrella machine guns but he never did quite guess the level of depravity within the man’s prized villainous lair. 

He probably should have though.

It was effectively a hole in the wall. The hidden trap door blended nearly seamlessly into the rest of the room. It was evenly padded around the hole in the same nude shade, just enough to make sure there wouldn’t be any bruises or scrapes at the waist even when it got a bit rough. And Jason could only imagine how rough it got.

There was a dimming light switch by the door and even at its brightest setting, the warm lighting of the room was kept low enough for things to be seen but not nearly enough to catch the truly unsavoury details to be examined for long.

Jason didn’t know his masochistic streak ran this deeply but. 

It wasn’t like anyone had to know.

-

Side B.

Jason’s cheeks burned. 

Both his ass and across his face, even if no one could see the latter.

He lost count after the eleventh round, losing time with it too as the way one man fucked him would blend into the next.

At times, it felt as though there weren’t a single pause in between, and he’d imagine one faceless man lining up after another just outside of the door with their cocks already hard and straining inside of their pants. The bulb would turn red to green and right back to red just as quickly when they got their cocks sinking balls deep inside of him in one easy plunge with the way the hole in the wall kept his ass right at fucking level.

A taller man might even have to drag him up by the hips until he was standing on his tip toes to push into him.

At other times, he’d be left alone just long enough for him to clench down on empty, left aching and be given nothing at all. This felt especially punishing when he could feel the cooling trail of semen trickling down the inside of his thighs as he struggled to keep from rubbing his legs together in any sort of attempt to keep from feeling like he’s gaping.

At those times, Jason tried to recall the details, focusing on how he could feel the way the different men would fuck him instead.

Some came easily, a few short erratic thrusts and they were done. Jason barely felt the way they would sheath all the way inside, filling him in girth and depth before they were already coming.

A few liked their foreplay, using what felt like three or four fingers to prod and pull and dig into the rim of his hole, pushing in deep to their last knuckle and aiming right for his prostate. And they would be particularly merciless about it too as they rubbed the rough pads of their fingers over that single spot where he was oversensitized already until they could finally feel the way he tried to squeeze weakly down around their digits as he shuddered through an orgasm before they ever even pulled their own cocks out of their pants. 

There were even men that didn’t just ignore Jason’s erection between his legs. One jerked him off in pace with his thrusts while another reached around and kept a near bruising grip around the base of his cock long after he was rendered to sobbing for relief. This one man in particular had pressed his thumb against Jason’s slit, smeared the tacky drool of precum all over the crown of his cock and kept him on edge until it hurt.

It left him babbling even though he knew the man wouldn’t be able to hear a single word out of him.

On his side of the wall, the room was much smaller where Jason was laying down on his front on a padded board. His skin was slick with sweat and each time they thrusted into him hard enough to rattle the wall a little, he could feel the rub of his hard nipples over the fabric of the thin tee he never considered to take off.

The friction burning raw and hot, pulling whimper after whimper out of him if the man on the other side decided he wanted to be especially brutal with him. 

Slapping a hand down on his ass and squeezing hard, gripping him by the hip to pull him onto his cock even if the hole in the wall provided very little give for that, less than an inch of space if Jason kept the narrowest part of his waist right at the circumference of the hole itself. But it was that tiny bit of drag that forced the free falling moans into a near wail when the man would fuck into him, full force still, pressing his balls right against his backside like he could force that inside of him too.

The sound proofing was good enough that Jason couldn’t make out the sound of the door opening and closing on the other side at all. Sometimes he could hear snatches of the things the men that were taking him would yell as they came inside of him. 

Most of it obscenities and more of it some variation of what a disgusting filthy whore of a public toilet his hole made. 

The dehumanization at being referred to just a hole to be fucked over and over again like a mantra was just enough push him over that edge once more, this time screaming into his fist to stifle the noise. Drool trailing down over the bitten swell of his bottom lip to smear all over his chin as he saw white.

Jason could feel the distinctively warm splash of the man’s cum as he pulled out at the last minute and came all over the small of his back, rubbing the length of his softening cock over the crack of his ass to leave thick sticky streaks of release everywhere before he pulled away completely.

There was a pat against the side of his hip that he faintly registered in the aftermath, like a wordless little good job that made Jason curl his fucking toes into the wet tiles beneath his bare feet.

There was no more room inside of him. 

An unmistakable heaviness inside of his abdomen. He was stretched and stuffed full and dripping wet. He was also pretty sure there was a puddle of cum and who the fuck knew what else at his feet if the feeling between his legs was any indication at all.

Because he was soaked.

His vision was warped by the wetness gathered over his lashes, leaving them clumping against his cheeks. He was still catching the last of his breath when he felt the curl of another man’s hands around the swell of his ass. Felt the dig of the man’s thumbs against his wrecked hole, pulling his rim apart, exposing how ruined he was for anything else.

And Jason could only begin to imagine what he looked like after having been fucked this many times while he was kept pinned in one place.

There was the press of the man’s cock against him, searing hot and thick and going slow as he pushed inside. There was an obscene sensation of the semen already in him seeping out around where he couldn’t quite clench down tight enough with how used and abused he had been all night.

The remaining thought inside of his head as his eyes went dark was this: What was one more time really in a string of many?

-

Daddy Dearest. 

When the light goes dark and stays dark for the night, Jason has already passed out. 

Even though his arms were always kept free and the latches to get himself out of this very literal hole in the wall were all entirely within reach for him, Jason never even came close to thinking about that.

Wingman is the one to come in through the employee side of the room, unlocks the door to the sight of his boss fucked to oblivion. Jason’s hair is a mess and his face is worse off when there’s drying sweat and snot and spit, eyes all red and puffy and still wet with tears.

As he unlatches the hidden trap door that allows the occupant of the hole to come out, Jason barely even stirs. Wingman is gentle as he maneuvers Jason out from it.

A faint groan from a mouth that’s been bitten hard enough to draw out the taste of blood, and Wingman swipes the pad of his thumb over the small split. Feels how lax Jason’s mouth goes as his jaw falls open for him, how easily it is for the man to press his thumb all the way inside of that mouth to run it against the edge of teeth and the soft cloying touch of tongue. 

Jason draws it into his mouth and sucks at it like it’s reflex.

It’s only logical that Wingman shows his boss to another one of Penguin’s back rooms when the time is right. A night much like this one where Jason needs this kind of love but a room where Jason gets to stay on his knees all night as men use him for his lips and mouth and throat until there’s nothing else he knows but the sweet sore ache in his jaw kept wide and the taste of semen filling up his stomach with every cock he takes.

His boy’s gorgeous really when he’s been given the thorough attention and adoration he craves. 

Love not said in any kind of superficial lies but told in actions, in the strict repetition of acts performed until all the evidence amounts to zero deniability. In providing Jason with everything he needs.

Wingman picks him up, brushes the sweat soaked bangs from Jason’s forehead and presses a faint kiss to it with all the affection he can give.

“I’m proud of you, son.”

For all of his misgivings as a father in the early years of this boy’s childhood, Willis Todd likes to think he can start to make up for some of it if he tries his hardest now.