#judge dredd x reader

[cassiopeia-grimm]

ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ :

You learn that he's been touched by sexual pollen. All he wants right now is you.

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@enchantedflameandflower, @jynx15,@butchersboobs, @karlurbanism,@jax-the-oregonian

I'll stop bothering you with it 😅

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I used ia to illustrate my imagine. I don't use it for artistic purposes. So please don't yell at me. I respect artists who work very hard for their art.

[mlm-writer]

A good insight into why you need to comment in tags or replies on fanfics. Writing can be such a lonely hobby when the void doesn't talk back.

[harveybwabbit92]

Zoffy: Wait.

Bad guy: "Wait?" Are you kidding me? Did you just say, "Wait"? Zoffy. the Commander Zoffy, finally gets on the wrong end of a gun and all he says is, "Wait." You know what? I expected more from you. I mean, wait for what? Wait for me to change my mind? Wait for another two or three seconds of life because you are so fucking weak you can't stand to see it end?

Zoffy: No.

[R/n sneaks up behind the guy and zaps him with her shock staff, knocking him out cold]

Zoffy: Wait for my wife to shock you.

[jrlunaart]

Currently reading:

- Battle Angel Alita: Deluxe Edition (Vol. 1) - Jessica Jones: Avenger - X-Men Noir: Mark of Cain - Judge Dredd (Vol. 1)

[ravennawritesfanfiction]

Previously I started several series and kinda lost where I was going with them. Is anyone still interested in Souls of Time or a part 3 for I See Red?

[lost-carcosa]

In every Judge Joe Dredd story I’ve ever read, there is at least one almost comically obvious moment when the author makes clear that the protagonist is a jackbooted fascist and not someone to admire. This may come across to the average reader as heavy-handed, but when the richest man in the world misreads the character as heroic, you can see why such heavy-handedness is sometimes necessary.

Shortly before former Representative Matt Gaetz of Florida withdrew his nomination for attorney general, Elon Musk posted on X that Gaetz was the “Judge Dredd America needs to clean up a corrupt system and put powerful bad actors in prison.” Generally speaking, one’s model for justice should not be a fascist invented in part to illustrate the distinction between elite impunity and the brutality that ordinary people face. (Were Dredd’s zero tolerance for lawbreaking evenly applied to obscenely wealthy scofflaws like Musk himself, it would surely be less appealing to him.)

Musk’s media illiteracy is not particularly shocking—it seems to be part of a broader trend tied to the rise of Donald Trump. Genre stories that are meant to highlight the dangers of fascism, cruelty, or selfishness instead end up being misinterpreted or even condemned by those who find fascism appealing or see cruelty and selfishness as aspirational virtues.

The messaging in Dredd stories verges on didactic, but it also assumes at least a tacit objection to fascism in the reader. One of the series’ co-creators, Pat Mills, has said that his model for Dredd and the other judges was the monks at his parochial school, who subjected children to physical or sexual abuse. The stories are set in a dystopian future where several “megacities,” surrounded by a radioactive wasteland, are ruled by draconian judges. Initially established by the character of Eustace Fargo in response to rampant street crime, this judge system empowers its agents to convict and sentence those they deem criminals, and simply kill many of the people they encounter.

As mentioned, the implications of these stories are not exactly subtle. In one 2019 story arc, The Small House, Dredd confronts Judge Smiley, the Justice Department’s chief of black ops, over Smiley’s use of invisible assassins to murder democracy activists in Mega-City One. Dredd’s main objection to Smiley’s operations, it seems, is that Smiley’s assassinations are not following proper protocol. Dredd has no moral objection to killing democracy activists, but it has to be done by the book. Smiley calmly explains to Dredd, “We’re fascists. We rule. It’s the only way we can survive in this irradiated, dead world.”

Dredd is a true believer in the judge system, and as such lacks the corruption of his contemporaries. This renders him ethically superior only to the other fascists, however; he is an unthinking armed goon who would never allow the system to be changed just because the majority would prefer it. He acts fanatically in service to the unjust system he upholds, not to any larger ideals of honor or integrity. In the 2006 storyline Origins, a cryogenically frozen Fargo is briefly thawed and begs Dredd to undo the judge system. “It was never meant to be forever,” Fargo pleads, just before dying. “We’re the monster, we got greedy—wanted everything—so we killed the dream, Joe, we killed America!” Dredd, being Dredd, ignores Fargo’s pleas and, when asked later about Fargo’s last words, says Fargo wanted him to “keep the faith,” forever burying Fargo’s wish to end the judge system in favor of democratic rule.

As Trump reshapes the nation in his image, some of his supporters seem inclined to turn cautionary tales on their head, empathizing with villains or antiheroes to such a degree that they miss the point of these stories entirely, even when the writers make the message as clear as possible. We might call this problem Tony Soprano Syndrome, after the patron saint of flawed antihero protagonists. One undecided voter told a New York Times focus group earlier this year that Trump is “the antihero, the Soprano, the ‘Breaking Bad,’ the guy who does bad things, who is a bad guy but does them on behalf of the people he represents.”

Almost every single thing here is wrong, but it’s wrong in a way that illustrates the illiteracy that I am talking about. The Sopranos is by any measure one of the greatest television series of all time, focusing on the daily travails of a mob boss who tries to balance his mental health with keeping his marriage together and raising his children. But Tony is a murderer whose greed and ambition harm the people he claims to love. He is not a moral exemplar, nor is he intended to be; his selfishness helps no one else and is destructive to all around him. The same is true of Walter White, the protagonist of Breaking Bad, who at one point in the show literally looks at the camera and says of his crimes, “I did it for me.”

Again, the creators could not be more clear that these characters are horrible people whom others should not seek to emulate. There is a difference between thinking Darth Vader is an awesome character in the fictional context of Star Wars and, you know, wanting to be like Darth Vader, a psychotic child-killer. Quite similarly, Trump could not be more clear that he is out for himself, seeking the power of the presidency to enrich himself and his allies, protect himself from legal jeopardy, and bask in the cultlike adulation of his followers. But fans of Tony or Walter, living vicariously through the power and cruelty of the object of their admiration, invert the moral implications of those characters’ stories such that selfishness and malice are justified or laudable. In the same way, Trump supporters treat the real-life Trump, who seeks power for his own gain, as a fictionalized Trump whose vices are in service to a selfless cause.

Tony and Walter are also aspirational figures for a certain type of man experiencing a certain type of midlife crisis because, despite their body aging and their looks fading, they can still shape the world around them with a seemingly infinite capacity to endure or inflict violence. They want to tell themselves they’re protecting something—home and hearth perhaps—but actually want to validate themselves with a justification for hurting someone else, even if they have to invent one.

This is one reason the actor Anna Gunn, who portrayed Walter’s wife, Skylar, drew an intense backlash—she was the embodiment of the nitpicky wife whose jealousy held her husband back from greatness (as a murdering meth kingpin).

Walter represents the emotional state of a particular type of viewer—someone who wants to enjoy his ability to make himself feel good through violence and suffering, and doesn’t want his good time spoiled by a mouthy woman reminding him that the things he is doing are actually bad. This type of reactionary masculinity is itself emblematic of the Trump era, as if conservatives listened to feminist critiques of “toxic masculinity” and decided to shear all virtue from their conception of traditional manhood and retain only those parts that involve dominance and exploitation of others.

Examples abound. Last year, another heavy-handed comic-book adaptation, the television series The Boys—about a covert-ops group that targets the irresponsible corporate-produced “supers” who kill more people than they actually save—made its criticism of fascism so overt that many of its fascist-sympathetic fans began to get upset. These fans complained that the show had gotten “woke” once the plot began to more plainly illustrate the political points it had been making all along, to the dismay of those fans who were living vicariously through the antagonists’ acts of cruelty.

Similarly, the creators of the murderous Marvel Comics’ vigilante the Punisher have repeatedly clarified, to no avail, that, despite possessing some virtues, the character of Frank Castle is not a good guy. In addition to being a murderer, he is occasionally portrayed as a fascist. During the Civil War storyline, Castle is told off by his idol, Captain America, who describes Castle as  “psychotic,” fulfilling a “twisted notion of justice.” The Punisher creator Gerry Conway has called the embrace of Punisher iconography by real-life armed agents of the state “disturbing,” because “the Punisher represents a failure of the Justice system. He’s supposed to indict the collapse of social moral authority and the reality [that] some people can’t depend on institutions like the police or the military to act in a just and capable way.”

The collapse of trust in institutions is one of the stories of the past decade or so. But so is this moral degeneracy, motivated by the need to ideologically justify the place of a corrupt authoritarian strongman in the most powerful government in the world. What looks like declining media literacy may be something much worse—an affirmation of the underlying values in dystopian literature that inevitably lead to the dystopia itself.

[shockyeahmiguelohara]

Hello! I love your blog and find your posts really insightful I was wondering, what do you think is a key aspect of Miguel's character that makes him challenging for writers outside of Peter David to write? Some people told me that the key part of Miguel’s essence that ATSV failed to portray is that he’s a rebel is that true? I hope I'm not bothering you with the question I'm just fascinated by your perspective

what do you think is a key aspect of Miguel's character that makes him challenging for writers outside of Peter David to write?

The short version: I think a lot of writers try to make Miguel O'Hara a version of Peter Parker that works for them or that they grew up with. It falls in line with the idea that there is only "one true Spider-Man" of the franchise that fuels the backlash to Miles Morales. But instead of overt racism, you end up with a milquetoast version of Miguel that's closer to Peter Parker than a genuine iteration of Miguel.

Some people told me that the key part of Miguel’s essence that ATSV failed to portray is that he’s a rebel is that true?

I think Miguel is a collaborator by nature, but rebels when something directly opposes his principles' and moral compass (and usually after he cannot ignore it any longer).

Take for instance, the catalyst that led to his becoming Spider-Man. Alchemax experimented on a human being without any real authorization, and Miguel's cooperation led to the senseless death of Mr. Sims.

The only way he felt he could hold himself accountable for his part was quitting and putting distance between himself and Alchemax. Tyler Stone undermined that by spiking his drink with an addictive drug that would eventually kill him. The aftermath of an deliberate attempt to murder him basically gave him the means to fuck up Stone's corporation and make some kind of amends for his complicity. But it also left him with disabilities (extreme sensitivity light being one of them).

So, in general, I think Miguel is a team player when it counts, but prefers to do things his own way (which, I guess is a rebel depending on the context).

Other elements that make Miguel 'difficult' for other writers is

1): Generation Gap and the Passage of Time

In particular, Spider-Man 2099 came around the time of the much derided "extreme era" of Marvel Comics, and comics in general. Which was nothing, if not a reaction to the Comics Code Authority and its particular brand of censorship (ah-la BS&P), and the desire to cater to a much older audience of readers.

So, the end result was overcompensation and a lot of antiquated ideas that remain fairly prevalent within the modern industry's of comic book publishing (see: Ultimate X-Men, Ultimatum, One More Day, Dan Slott, Comics Gate, etc.).

Spider-Man 2099 is very much a reflection of that "extreme era" ethos, from its character design, writing, and particular depiction of the future. It's Robocop or Judge Dredd flavored, so to speak. I also think it's easy to forget that Spider-Man 2099 was apart of a larger comic book series that included Ghost Rider 2099, Hulk 2099, Punisher 2099, and etc. It was beta Ultimate Comics.

The original Spider-Man 2099 debuted in 1992, and ended in 1996, officially putting the character on ice. Even as one of the better received titles of their 90s catalogue, with a cult following, it's hard to ignore the fact that Marvel treated their 2099 titles like damaged goods, something they had to run away from to recuperate their image.

As a result, they intentionally never did anything else to really promote Spider-Man 2099 so that he'd become a household name.

A similar thing happened to May Day Parker and the Spider-Girl franchise. Despite being relatively well received, Marvel as a company did its best to basically make sure she'd never become a household name.

So, by 2014 you've got 22 years of nothing happening with Miguel O'Hara. Then Dan Slott's Spider-Verse title debuted, and introduced a bunch of a Millennial and Gen Z era readers to all of these Spider-Mans they've never heard of, or only knew in the vaguest concept.

Almost immediately after, Peter David gets to write two more volumes of Spider-Man 2099. Except this time, he more or less does away with original continuity and all its narrative ties to cater to newer readers.

2): He's treated like a novelty or an aesthetic

The cancelled Spider-Man Unlimited series from Fox Kids, a reaction to Batman Beyond (Kids WB), was initially shopped around as a Spider-Man 2099 series. But because the general audience didn't know Miguel O'Hara (a consequence of the lack of promotion), Marvel decided to use the trappings and ideas of 2099, and created another Spider-Man series with Peter Parker. They treated the series like a spiritual sequel to Spider-Man: The Animated Series (a show they cancelled).

Prior to Spider-Verse, we got things like Timestorm 2099, Shattered Dimensions, and Spider-Man: Edge of Time.

Like an extension of Unlimited, with instances like Marvel's Spider-Man that uses Miguel's costume as an alternate skin to unlock in the PS4 game. It's why The Amazing Spider-Man production process wholesale lifted the design scheme of Miguel's costume as a possible final costume for their version of Peter Parker (see: the film's concept art), but never considered, maybe, making Miguel an actual character. (But honestly, given that its TASM, that's probably for the best.)

Thirteen years after the original comic, Timestorm 2099 was some kind of an attempt to introduce Miguel O'Hara to another generation of readers (Ys and Zs). I guess, to see if they could turn a profit with him. It's one of the few SM2099 titles not written by PAD. It solidified my belief that no one at Marvel, except PAD, really considers Miguel a unique character, just a reskin of Peter Parker.

Timestorm 2099's Miguel is a really bland version of teenage Peter Parker, whose dad is a genius scientist, and no elements of his family and life from SM2099 vol 1 (Gabri, Conchata, Xina, Dana) exists in different/alternate forms. The story basically exists just to get Peter to meet teen Miguel, and not much else. It's a less entertaining version of Spider-Man 2099 meets Spider-Man.

Exceptions to the rule are Edge of Time, a story co-written by PAD. It treats him like a whole and fully realized character, it uses an iteration of his universe as part of the stakes for Miguel and Peter, whose futures are altered by Dr. Sloane. It builds on their back and forth through dialog that doesn't just fill game-time space, but informs their character. And they do this with, arguably, the most recognizable Peter Parker voice actors of their time (Christopher Daniel Barnes, and Josh Keaton).

Were it not for the game's less than stellar performance, I'd argue that was a solid selling and starting point for newcomers to Miguel that Marvel could've really pushed. If I can say anything about Dan Slott, he kept trying to make his "fetch" idea (Spiderverse) happen, and it was, in part, the reason why we ended up with more PAD-helmed 2099 stories for Miguel.

But even with that in mind, the novelty aspect of Miguel's universe as one that Marvel constantly reinforces. It refuses to give 2099 its own space to exist outside of sporadic moments. To a large degree, Across the Spiderverse is very much a representation of how Miguel is treated like a niche or kitchy idea.

And you'll notice, with Miles (the one alternate/legacy Spider-Man they're capitalizing on, however disengeniously), the way they legitmized him is by keeping him trapped within the sphere of Peter Parker (specifically, alternate or cloned versions of Peter Parker).

[xplainthexmen]

In which we walk down X-Plain Memory Lane; everyone needs Bitch Planet; HoX/PoX wouldn’t stay on shelves; we learn how to make sure a comic doesn’t get canceled; Marvel should have kept publishing those Krakoa-era anthology TPBs; X-Men is indeed a soap opera; and you can jump in here ’cause we’re all confused.

X-PLAINED:

The most crowded X-year

Books With Pictures, official best comics shop in the world

Our upcoming 10th birthday party

Katie Pryde’s X-history

Prioritizing marginalized nerd identities

Lapsed X-readers

X-sprawl

The Dawn of X books that worked (and the one that didn’t)

The frustration of discontinued collection formats

The perfect number of X-books (again)

Drama and kissing

What we want after Fall of X

Readers’ single issue vs collection preferences

The power of the preorder

Katie’s (naming) origin story

Readers versus speculators

How to organize a comic book store

Non-X recommendations for X-fans

The glory of Judge Dredd

X-Men who can be trusted to watch a comic book store

NEXT EPISODE: Deviants, Christmas ghosts, and Magneto!

LINKS AND FURTHER READING:

Books With Pictures in Portland, Oregon

The Books With Pictures Podcast

RSVP to our birthday shenanigans!

Find us on Apple Podcasts or Spotify!

Jay and Miles X-Plain the X-Men is 100% ad-free and listener supported. If you want to help support the podcast–and unlock more cool stuff–you can do that right here!

Buy rad swag at our TeePublic shop!

[brie-annwyl]

It’s all a lie

Pre outbreak! Joel Miller x reader

Summery: Joel Miller is in love with his asshole brother’s girlfriend, what could go wrong?

Warnings: illusions to sexy times, Tommy is a slut and a bad boyfriend, Joel is like borderline obsessed with reader but god is it attractive. Also mentions of Joel dreaming of giving oral. Your welcome

Joel is well aware he’s fucked.

The moment he saw you smile at him from across the bar, he knew. He doesn’t need to be reminded that he’s a horrible brother, he already knows that. Falling for your brother’s girl is probably an unmentioned sin in the bible. And if it’s not, it should be, because the way Joel thinks of you. He can’t stop himself no matter how hard he tries. He hates himself for it.

He’s holding you for the hundredth time as you cry, Tommy’s screwed up again which shouldn’t be as shocking to you as it is. Considering your entire relationship has been Tommy breaking you over and over again and Joel picking up the pieces, telling you to leave, only for you to be holding Tommy’s hand the next time he sees you. It’s always the same.

But not this time.

You weren’t just crying, you’re screaming. This time is different because you’re pissed, full of loathing and throwing it at full force towards whoever will hear, that just so happens to be Joel.

“I cannot believe I gave him 3 years- I wasted 3 years of my life on him!”

Joel can’t believe it either, not when he’s been here, holding you since the second week. But he doesn’t say that, he holds you against his chest and softly murmurs an “I know.”

“Th-this absolute bastard! I knew he was always going to be rough around the edges but to flirt- no, not just fucking flirt, to make out with another woman at the bar on-“ a sob over takes you and Joel has never felt the urge to kill a man more than he does now. It’s your birthday, and instead of having an amazing night with your boyfriend of 3 years. You’re sobbing into Joel’s chest because Tommy is still, and will forever be Tommy. His hold tightens as his patience is weakening. Not with you, never with you. But with your (hopefully soon to be ex)boyfriend.

It’s quiet for a while, Joel knows how the night ends after this. You’ll uncurl yourself from his side and immediately apologize upon seeing the tear stains. He’ll make you both a drink, depending on how you’re feeling or the time of day it could be coffee, alcohol, or Joel’s specialty, Peppermint Hot chocolate. Every drink is always served with a glass of water to re-hydrate you. He will give you clothes (his Pj’s) to relax in before you snuggle under a comfy blanket on the couch. He’ll turn on a shitty movie for you to laugh at. Sometimes you’ll fall asleep and he’ll move you to his bed while he takes the couch for the night, or you’ll leave with a kiss on the cheek and endless “thank you’s” falling from your lips. It’s such a predictable routine he already knows you want a hot chocolate tonight, and the movie you’re going to watch is Judge Dredd from the 80’s with Sylvester Stallone. He knows you so well, so well that he’s shocked when you don’t uncurl yourself from his chest.

“Sweetheart?” The nickname has you pressing further into his chest, your arms tighten around him almost as if you’re afraid he’ll leave.

“Do you remember the night we all met?” Though mumbled into his chest, he still hears and it still makes his heart jump when he thinks of it, even though his heart has been broken ever since. His simple “mhm” seems to be enough to lure you to continue.

“It’s the perfect love story really, we catch eyes from across a crowded room and we’ve been together ever since.. “ your head suddenly lifts from his chest, still close, almost sitting in his lap with your hands on his pecs and Joel is trying to think of the most disgusting things he knows of to keep his little friend in check. Without noticing his hands are resting on your waist under your shirt, drawing little comforting circles into your skin.

“But it’s all a lie.” One of your hands slowly moves up to the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the uncut hair your are currently twirling between your fingers. The sensation has Joel imagining things he could never tell you, like the thousands of times he’s dreamt of you locking his head between your thighs as your fingers grip his hair for dear life. Endless moans falling from your lips while your back arches.

“He wasn’t the one I was staring at Joel.” You whisper, the sultry tone isn’t lost on him. Nor is the feather like stroking of his collarbone, your fingers stop playing with his hair as they slowly move to hold his head, never fully leaving him, the ghosting touches sending a warm shiver down his spine. He wants to ask what you’re doing, to softly push you away, to remind you that you’re technically still with Tommy, even if he desperately wished you weren’t. But he doesn’t. He just holds you tighter as one of his hands finds it’s way to hold your lower back beneath your shirt.

“Who were you looking at baby?” He knows he’s a bad brother as your lips draw closer and doesn’t put up a fight against it, he knows he’s a horrible person when you softly murmur a “you” against his lips and he kisses you, no longer keeping himself in check as you hold his face so gently he barely feels it. The kiss is what he imagined millions of times and so much more than he could’ve fantasized. You’re so soft and passionate with every push of your mouth against his. He can’t believe you’re real if he’s honest, absolutely perfect in every way possible. His guilt disappearing as you detach your perfect mouth from his only to situate yourself closer to him (if even possible) before pulling him back to you with force.

He can’t remember how long it’s been since he’s felt so loved, so fucking aroused from kissing someone and he starts questioning if he ever has. He has to hold back a groan as you depart for air, heaving as you lean back to look at him. God he’s never seen you more gorgeous than right now, limbs wrapped all around his body with your face flushed, lips swollen and glistening from kissing him. Your eyes watching him very carefully and calculating. You always look cute when thinking he decides as you ever so softly bite your bottom lip.

The moment is suddenly over has you quickly remove yourself from him and running over to your bag, and Joel’s terrified. Not of the possibility that Tommy will never forgive him but of the thought that he hurt you or made you uncomfortable. The thought that you regret it has his heart shattering across the living room floor. He’s quick to get up and call after you, already trying to do damage control.

“Sweetheart? God I’m so sorry, i should’ve asked before-“ a hand slapping over his mouth has his apology dying on his lips. Fuck your hands are so soft against him. He stands dumbly as you hold your phone to your ear. The air feels thick as he hears the ringing then the receiver clicking. A slurred “hello” flows throughout the room as you don’t take your eyes off of Joel’s. You called Tommy, you called your boyfriend, and you’re going to tell him what happened begging for another chance. Leaving Joel to clean up the mess you will make. And he’d do it, he would do it for eternity if he got to kiss you again.

You’re both at a standstill as he hears Tommy already rattling off an apology for ruining your birthday, you hand twitches against Joel as he calls you “my girl” through the phone. You’re still looking at Joel with a blank stare, eyes unblinking as Tommy goes on and on with excuses before you finally interrupt him after what seemed like hours to Joel.

“We’re over Tommy.” This seems to have left Tommy speechless, and not only Tommy. Joel’s eyes are wide as he gently guides your hand away from his mouth and taking a step forward, you don’t wait for a response as you quickly end to call and push yourself back into Joel’s loving embrace, you fit together like you were made for each other, two perfectly carved puzzle pieces. Joel lifts you into his arms as your legs wrap around him. Your kiss never once breaking as he takes the both of you to his room. The whole way there throughout messy kisses and moans all he’s doing is thanking every god he doesn’t believe in that his brother is a man whore.

I hope y’all enjoyed,🫶

[one-boring-person]

I know I just requested, but I love your work so much!!!

Can I please request an imagine where the reader is going to the academy with Rico and Dredd and there is ‘friendly’ competition between the two brothers to show off in front of you?

Thank you 💛

I'm sorry this is so short, I hope you like it!😊💛❤

Cheating.

Judge Dredd x reader x Rico

(I can't remember his surname😅)

Warnings: gun usage

Masterlist

"Target practice?!" Rico groans as the drill sergeant marches us into the range, his attitude drawing an eye roll and amused glance from Dredd.

"Complain all you want, but you need it." I elbow the cadet beside me, looking to Dredd for backup.

"She makes a fair point, your aim is awful." Our friend muses, laughing at Rico's offended expression.

"No it's not!" He scowls in mock irritation, taking up a gun from the table. As he does so, it instantly identifies him, stating its readiness for use.

"It is." Dredd and I both respond, copying him, waiting for the weapons to recognise us.

"I have better aim than either of you!" Rico argues, leading us to a row of three separate targets.

Glancing over at him, I grin as an idea springs to mind.

"Prove it." I tell him, getting ready myself.

He blinks for a moment, looking at Dredd, who smirks and shrugs, setting up beside me, blue eyes focusing on his target. 

"I will." Rico finally says, preparing on my other side as we all get ready to shoot, awaiting permission from the Judge instructing us.

After a minute, the order comes, gunshots soon filling the air.

I try to concentrate on my target, but with the rippling muscles of both cadets beside me, tensing with each burst of recoil, I find it increasingly harder not to watch them out of the corner of my eye. It's hot in the shooting range, sweat beading on my skin even as it does on theirs, their hair quickly becoming somewhat dusted in a fine smattering of glistening moisture, strands falling into their faces. 

Biting my lip, I force myself to focus, fixing my eyes solely on the gun and target before me. Adjusting my grip on the weapon, I take careful aim, lining up the sights, allowing my finger to hover over the trigger. Steadying myself, I press the trigger, the recoil jerking my arm slightly, though it doesn't affect the trajectory of the bullet as it slices through the air, slamming into the centre of the target's synthesized chest. Lowering the gun, I admire the shot, checking to see if the weapon still has ammo.

"Damn, nice shot, (Y/n)!" Rico whistles from beside me, leaning over to marvel at the puncture mark in the target across from us.

"Yeah, she's doing a far better job than you." Dredd teases, looking over at his friend's target with a grin, "Rico, you could be standing point-blank and still miss."

"I think you'll find my shots have all hit their mark." The cadet quips back, pointing at his target: all the shots are centred around the abdomen and chest, "As for you, well, if we ever need to shoot around a corner, we'll give you a shout."

The three of us laugh, knowing full well none of us are particularly bad shots.

"At least they'll call me for something." Dredd chuckles, setting up for another shot.

Rico rolls his eyes, before smirking at me and creeping around to stand beside his friend, not making his presence known just yet. As Dredd lines up and goes to press the trigger, he gently puts a hand on the outstretched arm, bending it at the elbow ever so slightly. As the cadet shoots, the bullet goes wide, arcing over the top of the target uselessly. Dredd turns on Rico with a mock-angry look.

"That's cheating!" He exclaims, watching as Rico moves back into position beside me.

His friend simply shrugs, taking up his gun and aiming without looking, shooting the target in the head.

"Maybe I'm just better." He smirks, winking at me.

"Or," I interrupt, "Maybe I'm the best."

I take a shot, nearly hitting the exact same spot as before, playfully blowing at the top of the gun as the two men stare at me appreciatively.

"She's got us there." Rico says to Dredd, nodding at me.

He only stares at me, a smile breaking out on his face.

"Indeed she has." 

[emily-strange]

Tear Us Apart, Part 2

Y/N can’t stand the silence.

Part 2 of 3

Sorry this is a long one!

Warnings: Swearing

After the horrendous patrol, Y/N was told that she was relieved of duty for the rest of the day. She wanted to question the decision but no doubt Dredd just couldn’t face working with her and she wouldn’t force him, so she went home and did anything she could to distract herself; she’d sort it all out tomorrow when everything had calmed down.

But the next day she was told by the Chief Judge that Dredd had green-lighted her to be placed with another partner. That partner being long-term Judge, Brooks.

Brooks is fine. It’s nice to be paired with a strong woman and she seems to trust Y/N’s judgement calls. Their sector is one of the calmest which makes it safer but that didn’t stop the near miss during the first month. But Y/N made it, she pulled through and 3 months later here she is.

As well as its been going, it just isn’t quite the same. In the months following the incident with Petra, Y/N hasn’t spoken to Dredd at all. Not once. Not even a head nod in passing. Even though she should be thrilled that she’s now an actual Judge, Y/N doesn’t feel herself. Her heart hurts at the end of every shift, at the end of every day.

She’s made friends and she enjoys their company but there’s still that missing piece.

Today’s a short shift. They’ve already stopped 4 robberies and taken in 7 amateur drug runners; for a patrol, that’s a slow day. Now Y/N is sat in her favourite café with Brooks discussing her performance for the month. Her final probation review.

“Sooo I think the only thing to mention issss….you have too much sugar in your coffee.” Judge Brooks nods as she goes through the final paperwork, ticking and signing boxes as she goes.

Y/N laughs and tries not to spit out her mouthful of cake, “Really. That’s all you’ve got?”

Brooks laughs over the final page and signs with a flourish. She raises her coffee up to Y/N and then both clink in celebration. Mid sip Brooks spots someone at the coffee counter and waves them over.

The moment she calls, “Dredd!”, Y/N feels like her heart is being compressed in a vice. A rusty one at that. She hears the leather of his armour creak as he walks over from the counter to their table, giving her no time to regulate her breathing.

“Dredd, you’ll be happy to know that Y/L/N has officially been signed off. Our girl’s now a Psi-Judge.” Brooks says happily and even though Y/N smiles at her enthusiasm, she can’t bring herself to meet Dredd’s eyes behind his visor. In reality his response comes only seconds later, but to her it feels like decades.

“Well done Y/L/N.” Dredd says simply. He nods to Brooks and leaves to pick up his coffee before heading on patrol. When Y/N hears the door close behind her, she lets out the long breathe she didn’t know she was holding. Brooks hums.

“Yep. Thought so.” She says taking a sip of her drink. When Y/N looks at her quizzically she laughs, “Y/L/N it’s very obvious you feel…something…for Dredd. And to be honest he’s been hell to be around since you started partnering with me. He broke Jameson’s nose during their spar session last week and before that it was Mitchell’s arm!”

“Well…he’s always been hard work.” Y/N says defensively and that just makes Brooks laugh more.

“Look, I don’t know why you were handed over to me, Dredd had that last report sealed tight. But I know it wasn’t done because he wanted rid of you. And the fact that you swoon whenever you see him…I connected the dots.” She says and to Y/N’s horror she knows she’s right.

“Nothing’s ever happened.” Y/N starts, fiddling with her cup, “But I feel like there was something there.”

Brooks smiles kindly and fishes around in her bag for her work device. She starts to copy something from the device onto a napkin and passes across the table.

“Look, you didn’t get it from me. But I dunno, I’m a romantic. What’s the worst that can happen? You don’t speak as it is.” Brooks finishes and drinks the rest of her coffee. Y/N looks at the napkin and knows straight away it’s Dredd’s home address.

………………………………………..

It’s late afternoon when she gets home with the napkin burning a hole in her pocket. To distract herself she showers, tries (and fails) to nap and watches a number of terrible films. But during it all, she finds herself replaying Dredd’s flinch over and over again in her mind.

So, dressed in leggings and a soft knit jumper she leaves for his home. For safety, Judges are sprinkled around the city and very rarely live in their own sector. During the trip to his building, Y/N thinks around what she wants to say but as soon as she’s face to face with his door, all conscious thought leaves her.

After taking way too many seconds to scrutinize his apartment door, she finally gets the confidence to knock.

But no one answers.

She knocks louder.

But still nothing.

Y/N turns around and slides onto the ground with her back to the door. She pulls up her knees and sighs, banging her head back against the metal with a loud clunk. After laughing at the ridiculous situation she’s in, Y/N gives into the onslaught of tiredness. She doesn’t know how long she’s sat there before she falls asleep. She also doesn’t know how long she’s been asleep when the thudding of heavy boots wakes her.

She slowly opens her eyes and is completely disorientated. She stares at pristine black biker boots and follows her eyeline up the dark blue jeans and leather jacket, to a very (she guesses) confused Judge. It’s hard to tell with the helmet on. Dredd always wears an old version of the Judge’s helmet on his personal bike, claiming it’s far safer than normal ones. The helmet is from an old armour and basically unrecognisable as being a Judges’. Not that Dredd would care. Let someone try to take him down.

Y/N smiles to herself at the thought but remembers why she’s here and wipes it off immediately. She scrambles to her feet, registering how Dredd twitch’s his hand closer to help her but not following through. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Um, hi.” She says and internally groans at how small her voice sounds. Dredd doesn’t say anything but moves to open his door. Y/N moves to give him space.

Once inside the apartment, he takes off his boots and leather jacket. Leaving Y/N to glance around the room. The walls of the livingroom are bare and off to the side is a small kitchen. In the middle of the room is a sofa with two matching chairs opposite and a small holo-vid TV. Y/N walks over to the only thing to have life in it. A small bookcase with every book in alphabetical order and to her surprise, the topics are really varied. Although her stomach does drop when she doesn’t see the book on 20th Centaury War she got him for Christmas.

Turning back to face Dredd, she see’s his black t-shirt stretched over his strong arms and it takes a second for her brain to re-engage with her mouth.

“Do you own any other colours?” she jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Dredd just answers with a resolute, “No.”

Y/N sighs and moves to sit in one of the chairs across from the sofa but Dredd doesn’t move a muscle. Instead he stands awkwardly behind the sofa with his head hanging low. Helmet still on.

“Can you please sit..” she tries, “..I really want to talk.”

Dredd nods but avoids eye contact, even through his helmet. He sits on the sofa but off to one side, not directly in front of her and the awkwardness between them makes her want to cry. For a few long seconds she tries to even her breathing and wills the tears not to flow.

“So…we haven’t spoken, at all, about what happened.” Y/N starts carefully and glances up to see Dredd staring off beside her, “Please look at me. I…need to know you hear me.”

Dredd’s ever-present mouth frown deepens but he looks at her anyway.

“I hear you.” He says quietly.

Y/N forces a small smile, “Look what happened was…it was…fucking horrible okay. I…it was awful. But…how dare you.”

She hadn’t planned on saying that. That wasn’t anywhere in her mind (she didn’t think). So when Dredd snaps his attention to her, she mirrors what must be his shock.

“I’m sorry. I just…” She gets up and begins pacing in front of the bookcase, “…No I’m not sorry. I’m not. You bailed on me! I know you’re…my superior and oh God I know that this is a massive infraction but come on. You were also my friend…but you ran away!”

Dredd watches her as she lets a few tears fall down her cheeks before swatting them away.

Y/N knows she shouldn’t but in her moment of anguish she reaches out to his mind. She has to know she’s not speaking to a brick wall, that what she thought they had was actually real. Even if it was just a friendship.

The odd time she’d slipped into his mind by accident she’d felt the usual annoyance or frustration but sometimes, underneath it all, she’d feel longing. A longing directed at her. She has to know what that means.

She reaches out to read him and a choked sob escapes her throat. He’s holding onto so much sadness, more sadness than anyone should have to bear. A mixture of anger and self-hatred. Confusion and insecurity. All the emotions the man before her makes sure to keep hidden from his face at all times. Y/N realises that if she wants to know for sure, she has to go all in.

Walking slowly over to Dredd, Y/N kneels in front of him. She knows that he’s aware of what she’ll ask of him and when she senses he’s about to bolt, she puts her hands on her thighs to show him he’s in control. She won’t do anything without his consent.

“When…it happened. I pushed into your mind.” Y/N whispers and gets an affirming grunt from Dredd, “I didn’t mean to see your memories. I was just trying to…ease what I could. If you’ll let me, I’d like to show you my own memories of those times.”

She see’s Dredd’s jaw clench. But after a few long, long seconds he nods.

“I’ll keep my eye’s closed or, or you can blindfold me but…I need to touch your temple. It’s easier to show you the exact memories I want you to see. You’ll need to take your helmet off.”

Without waiting for confirmation, Y/N closes her eyes and holds out her hands to Dredd. Time stretches on but eventually she feels his helmet against her leg. Dredd takes her hands gently with his and grips tightly to stop himself from shaking. But she feels it. He puts her hands on his temples and Y/N rearranges to get comfortable, slotting herself between his legs.

She focuses on the first memory she saw, her returning his academy jumper. First, she shows him the snow and how miserable she was at the prospect of getting home without her coat. How humiliated she felt to be stood in only a long-sleeved top next to her very well-prepared superior in his winter jacket. Then she lets him feel the flood of warmth that ran through her when he told her to wait, went back into the locker room and returned with his academy jumper. The one she knew meant a great deal to him. Through her fingers she pushes the memory of how seeing herself in the mirror with only his jumper on made her hot all over and how that night she’d slept in it.  

How sad it made her when she handed it back over.

Then she takes him to her sparring match with one of the newer rookies. How she felt his eyes on her before she even saw him and how she pushed that extra bit harder to win. Just so she could try to impress him. That when she saw his mouth twitch in the smallest smile, it was far better than any pat on the back from the gathered crowd. She felt like she was walking on air.

Lastly, she took him to the night they shared Chinese takeout on the roof of her apartment building. She couldn’t see his face but she knew he was listening to the silly story from her childhood. Y/N passed to Dredd her feeling of belonging, of happiness and contentment. She showed him how much their meals meant to her. How the loneliness that’d made itself at home in her heart shifted just by being near him.

Y/N pulls back to remove her hands from Dredd’s temple but jumps when he holds them there.

All of a sudden, he’s thinking extremely vividly, pushing more of memories back to her. Unlike his previous ones, Y/N see’s herself walking through the scene as an observer.  She watches as Dredd picks out the cupcake for her birthday and how scared he felt at showing anything gentle, anything but his usual toughness. But the smile it brought. Her smile. It made him want to throw himself at her feet and promise her the world. She’d never been more beautiful to him than the moment she looked in that paper bag.

Y/N sniffs and whispers to the man in front of her, “That was my first birthday cake.”

Then in his mind he takes them to Christmas. When he unwrapped the book she got him. He went from elated to melancholy in a split second. Only managing a small “thanks” when in reality his whole body was on fire. He couldn’t remember the last time someone did anything nice for him. In his mind he shows her the wrapped present he never gave in return. It’s still sitting at the bottom of his wardrobe. He feels like a coward.

Y/N shakes her head before whispering, “You’re not a coward. You’re wonderful.”

“You don’t really know me.” Dredd replies. His usual gruff voice laced with something else.

“I know enough.” Y/N continues, gently rubbing her thumbs over his temple as a tear falls from her closed eyes, “I know that Petra did what she did because you care about me. She knew that hurting me is one thing but having it done but your own hands….that it’d tear you open.”

Y/N inhales sharply when she feels a calloused thumb wiping away her tears.

“I know that you think distance will make it easier to ignore how you feel….and that by staying away it’ll stop what you saw from ever really happening.” She sniffs and can’t stop the tears from falling freely now, “That you’ll sacrifice your own happiness if it means I’ll be safe.”

Dredd gives up on trying to wipe the tear tracks from her face and just holds her by gently cupping her cheeks. Y/N in turn trails her finger tips from his temple to his stubbled cheeks. She turns over one of her hands and gently brushes his jaw line with the back of her knuckles, taking note of the way he swallows thickly.

“I also know that you’d never hurt me….and not because you’re a Judge but because you’re you.” Y/N moves her hand from his jaw to his chest, feeling his heart beating under her palm, “This fucking shitty world, this city, has ruined a lot of things for me…my family…people I thought were my friends…the damn life I saw for myself. I won’t let it ruin you.”

For a long minute Y/N just sits and waits for Dredd’s response.

She forces herself not to reach out with her mind and just stays holding onto his face and chest, waiting. She feels a deep pain throb in her chest when Dredd withdraws his hands from her face and gently, but firmly, pulls hers away from him.  

She bows her head as he silently holds them out in front of him.

[mlm-writer]

Judgement Time (Karl Urban as Judge Dredd x GN!Reader)

Kinktober Day 27: Cosplay Sex

Source

Pairing: Karl Urban as Judge Dredd x Reader with a vagina Rating: Explicit Words: 1430 Summary: Your boyfriend Karl shows you his outfit for comic con. It is hot.  Note: Look me in the eyes and tell me this movie did not make you horny for that voice. Also reader has a vagina, but no gendered-words are used. I use clit and pussy once to refer to them genitals. Nothing is mentioned about a chest. Tags: no beta we die like men, roleplay (sorta), teasing, banter, wholesome sex, unprotected sex, DONT SWALLOW, low key leather kink if you squint, hmmmm consent and established relationship. 

“Are you finally coming out?” You knocked on the bedroom door, your boyfriend being in there for at least 20 minutes. He yelled back that his costume was harder to put on than he remembered. You were prepping for comic con tomorrow and Karl said he had a surprise for you. You crossed your arms, because apparently his surprise was waiting until you aged. You took a step back when the door opened, curious eyes catching a glimpse of him before he even stepped out fully. “Oh my god, you’re hot,” you gasped. 

Karl laughed as he turned around for good measure. His entire body was clad in leather that was made to look old and dirty, but you knew better than that. The badge on his chest had an odd shine to it. Even with the helmet on, you thought he was extremely hot. “See? I remember you having the hots for… Judge Dredd.” His voice changed as he spoke like he did in the movie. 

You could not stop looking. “You’re not going anywhere with me like that. I might suck your dick in the middle of the dealer room.” He laughed and stepped closer to you, each step turning you on more. He stopped when his chest was barely touching yours. You could not see his eyes, but his smirk told you enough. 

“I think I will have to assess your talents, rookie.” 

“Why don’t you assess my body first?”

He chuckled, trying hard to stay in character, but it simply couldn’t be done with the weird exchange and cheesy lines. He leaned down to kiss you, but smacked you in the head with the helmet instead. With a grunt he pulled the thing off, his hair sticking up adorably. He lifted you up and kissed you as he moved to the couch. He put you down on the back of it and slid down to his knees, taking off your shorts in the progress. “Judgement time, baby,” he joked, before playing with you with his tongue. You put a hand in his hair and guided his mouth over your heat. Karl was good at a lot of things, but eating you out was his number one talent. His tongue knew where to press, how to tease and he sucked in just the right places. 

You got so lost in the feeling of his mouth. All you felt was the pleasure of his tongue and time became unreal. He built you up to your orgasm, only to pull away when you got too close. You whined as you hopped off the couch. You switched places with him, enjoying the smirk on his face as you pushed him against the couch. He leaned against it and licked his lips as you got down on your knees. “I think you should assess my mouth too, judge,” you joked. 

Karl shook his head, probably not believing this was actually turning him on. “You should just shut up,” he spoke lightly as he unzipped the leather pants, revealing he had gone commando under there. You raised a brow at him. “Don’t look at me like that. I knew you would jump my bones. I’ll actually wear underwear when we go to comic con, all right?” 

You took his cock out with a smirk. “You can also go commando to comic con. Makes it easier to suck your dick in the dressing room.” He groaned as he watched you lick his length. You closed your eyes and took his cock in your mouth. You imagined being at comic con. It is the middle of the event and no one is really using the dressing room at this point. It is just you, him and a very thin fake wall to shield you from thousands of fans. You bobbed your head over his length as you imagined it, the thrill of being obscene, of being caught. 

When you opened your eyes again, the sight got you dripping. Karl had his mouth open just a little, while his eyes showed you had his undivided attention. You pulled your mouth off him and let his wet length rest against your cheek. “I need to ride you,” you sighed, pupils dilated and hole dripping to get him inside you. 

“I’ll clean the couch later,” he groaned as he bent down to pick you up. His lips were hungry for yours as he carried you around the couch and sat down in the middle of it. You shifted and lined his cock right for you to sink down on it. Your moans mixed as he breached you and your walls stretched around him. 

“Fuck you’re thick,” you cursed as you slid down. You were so wet, it was easy to take him inside you. His hands landed on your sides as he helped you up and down his cock. You put your hands on his shoulders, leveraging yourself. You rolled your hips over his length, your wetness clearly audible with every move. Karl moaned, his eyes fixated on your face. The afternoon light shining through the curtains gave you a perfect view of his handsome face. 

Your legs burned, but you wanted to keep going. It felt so good and you just wanted more, feel his cock from this perfect angle. Karl tightened his grip on you, preventing you from moving. You whined. “Don’t worry, gorgeous, I’m not done with you.” He slid down a little, hands going down to your hips. You lifted them up just a little, already knowing what he was about to do. He always knew how to read you. He held you in place as he thrusted his hips up into you. You rested your hands next to him so he could move freely. Even without the classic action 8-pack, Karl was super fit, tirelessly pounding up into you, the sound of skin slapping on leather and your hole overflowing with your wetness filled the living room. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you whined as he fucked you roughly. You looked down at him, your horny on high as you saw the emblem on his chest. You carefully lifted one hand, bringin it to your clit and rubbing just a little, which was enough to send you over the edge. You whole body shook as he kept roughly fucking you through it, maximising your pleasure. He let go of you and you were seated on his lap, cock as deep inside you as it could go. 

He groaned as your walls clenched and unclenched in the aftershocks of your orgasm. A hand raised to your cheek and you leaned against it as you caught your breath. “You’re so fucking wet, baby, I wanna facefuck you and cum on your tongue. Is that ok?” You let out a moan and nodded your head. You wobbled on your legs as you climbed off him. Karl manhandled you until you were on the floor, leaning with your back against the couch. He had a sturdy grip on your head as you opened your mouth. 

Karl was not particularly big, but his girth was impressive. He pushed his cock into your mouth and you could taste yourself on it as he used your mouth for his pleasure. You hummed around it, eyes rolling back as he fucking your mouth like he fucked your pussy. He pulled out halfway, the tip of his cock on your tongue and you sucked as hard as you can, swimming in the sound of his groan, as he came on your tongue, his taste mixing with your own aftertaste. When he pulled out, he grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and handed it to you. You spit his cum out, grimacing at the taste, making him chuckle. 

Karl sat down on the couch and pulled you from the floor into his lap. You threw the tissue onto the coffee table and relaxed against him. “I think I messed up your costume a little,” you sighed. Karl took the leather gloves off and threw them god knows where. His bare hand landed on your thigh, rubbing it soothingly. 

“Nah, it’s leather, easy to clean, right?” You giggled, putting a hand on top of his. 

“So… what’s your assessment, Judge?” You grinned as you looked up at him. He smirked back at you and lifted you up. You yelped as he carried you to the bedroom. 

“I think I am not done yet, rookie,” he spoke in that rough voice, before closing the bedroom door behind him with his foot. 

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

The Montgomery Files: Chapter 7

Dredd x reader

By @adventuresintooblivion​

Word Count: 2194

Summary: A gala. With embezzlement. And Wolfe’s family. Oh joyous day!

Note: Takes place after my series that you can find in the Masterlist.

Montgomery sighed softly, picking idly at her Lo Mein. Tonight was a weird night. Dredd and Y/LN were on a mission together for fucking once but it was guard duty of all things. It was for a fundraiser for kids or something like that. But not only were they undercover, the event was hosted by the Wolfes of all people. 

After Chief had told the couple about their assignment, Montgomery had been called into Control for a special favor. While the Chief didn’t cash in her special favors very often, this one seemed to be particularly important. And illegal. Hence, why it had been given to Montgomery. 

Her skills with a computer were somewhat infamous amongst her peers. However, they all were aware that what she did wasn’t always within the confines of the law. Most people tended to turn a blind eye since it kept street Judges alive. This was different though.

This assignment wasn’t dangerous and it was almost impossible for either Dredd or Y/LN to get injured let alone killed. It was a fundraiser for crying out loud. What were they doing, hiding guns in the punch? But with the Wolfe’ involved, Montgomery couldn’t help but wonder if this was a bit personal.

Despite the fact that she usually thrived on this underground night life, Montgomery couldn’t help but wish she was at home watching some stupid mystery show. Over the past couple years, she’d practically begged Operators and Handlers alike for a chance like this. To be working with the two best Judges to walk the planet and be allowed to do as much shady shit as she wanted? It was a dream.

And five minutes in it became obvious that Dredd had a stick up his ass the size of the empire state building. His tux was bare minimum. He refused to drink or even grab Y/LN anything. Something about not being intoxicated while on duty. Then to top it off, he wouldn’t dance.

Again Montgomery was staring into the live feed, the gaudy decorations making her go a little cross eyed. For some relief she happened to glance over at a separate screen which displayed, in live time, the charity funds and where they were going. A list next to the sum of money in the account caught her attention. It was all of the guests credit card information, security number and all. Even the bogus cards that had been given the Dredd and Y/LN were listed. If Montgomery wanted to, she could get herself a nice pair of boots.

She pushed the thought aside as she began tracking the funds. Money began to pour in as the bidding started. The website said the money was supposed to fund a research program for children affected by pollution. It was called KIDS2BCURED. While the name was cheesy enough to make it sound real, it didn’t mean anything.

Montgomery flipped through the half dozen windows she had open for this project before finally settling on the bank accounts. It was supposed to arrive in a joint bank account for employees and supervisors to use in order to fund their research. However, no matter how much bidding was done at the fundraiser, no money showed up. 

Montgomery frowned. Maybe there was some weirdly high tech security on this.

But then she got curious and began tracking down the paper trail from KIDS2BCURED. It existed on a couple pieces of paper but besides registering for the name the actual company didn’t exist.

Suddenly one of her windows pinged as it begam active. As she pulled it up she glanced at the headline. This was a list of all the bank accounts owned by the Wolfe’s respective business ventures. The one labeled as DuoCare Pharmaceuticals was suddenly filling up with hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Montgomery followed the paper trail on this as well, wondering how real this company was compared to KIDS2BCURED. Soon she found a copyright license for the name and a deed to a warehouse. The nice a reputable kind that’s surrounded by the shittiest part of town and other empty warehouses. And the bank account itself was owned directly by Mr. and Mrs. Wolfe.

“Welp, that’s illegal.” Montgomery couldn’t stop the chuckle as it came unbidden to her lips.

Rodrigez peeked around the wall of the cubical, “Oh? Illegal? Now you wouldn’t be snooping around unauthorized locations again?” His sing-song voice barely penetrated the drone of the party coming through her headphones.

This time Montgomery rolled her eyes, “No, I’m authorized to go where I want this time. But you know the friendly neighborhood fuck-up?”

He nodded eagerly, slowly making his way over to peer at her computer screen.

“Her parents are totally embezzling money from the richest and most powerful families in the Megacity.”

“Aren’t half of those Mafia?”

Montgomery nodded and continued typing.

Rodrigez continued, “No fucking way. That’s too ballsy to be someone related to her. Wait, do you think she knows?”

Before she could answer Rodriez hopped back on his computer and began typing furiously. His face lit up with an intense focus. Montgomery glanced over curious. All she could see was Wolfe’ picture on the screen.

“Oh Montgomery, this is poetic. She’s there.” he exclaimed. 

Montgomery felt her mouth fall open, “She’s at the fundraiser?”

He nodded, “She requested off just for it.”

Montgomery squealed happily, “Oh this is gonna be great. Wait, am I a bad person for wanting this to happen?”

Rodrigez shrugged as Montgomery switched the comms on, “Y/LN, Dredd?”

It was Y/LN who replied, “Yes?”

The Handler grinned, “So how’s babysitting?”

“Dear God, Montgomery, don't get me started. Is there something you need?” She groaned into the microphone. 

“Hmm? Oh nothing except a possible arrest warrant for  Mr. and Mrs. Wolfe.”

There was a long moment of silence on the other side of the comms, “Hello?”

Y/LN cleared her throat, “Yeah, I’m here. I just...What for?”

“Embezzlement. Turns out that little fundraiser they host eventually works around to line their own pockets.”

A deep chuckle came over the comms, “Oh that is too perfect. Has the warrant been made official yet?”

Montgomery rolled her eyes, “Come on, Dredd, what do you take me for?”

Montgomery quickly sent the information to the Chief as a soft groan emanated over the speaker.

“I think you’re a Handler that straddles the line of the law and who frequently dips their toe into questionably legal activities. You’re also really fucking loud,” he replied. The screen finally flickered to life as he finished.

“So why haven’t you arrested me yet?”

Dredd didn’t dignify her with an answer as the scanners began to identify party goers. People dressed in the most expensive of fabrics this city could create. Montgomery chuckled dryly as she noticed the copious amounts of potpourri. So this is what the rich did to hide the stench of the squalor that surrounded them.

A soft ping pulled her from her thoughts as a notification appeared on Dredd’s screen.

His deep voice soon followed, “Arrest order received. We will commence with caution.”

Y/LN grumbled, “You know if it was anyone else besides the Wolfe’ the we wouldn’t be waiting for a warrant. We’re Judges.”

Dredd sighed softly and turned to look at his wife, “They donated thousands of dollars to the Academy since Wolfe joined. Not to mention they have a monopoly on the materials used to make our uniforms bullet proof. Understandably, the Chief is a bit nervous about this whole thing.”

Montgomery interrupted, “Hey guys, maybe we should talk about this later when we aren’t being recorded.”

Y/LN pressed her lips together before standing and making her way towards the Wolfe’. Dredd followed close behind. His hand rested on his firearm gently as they got within speaking distance. Judge Wolfe was standing beside them.

In Montgomery’s opinion, her dress was hideous. It was a silver strapless monstrosity. The color plus the copious amounts of ruffles left her looking like a pale scrawny chicken with no breasts. Her badly dyed hair didn’t help matters in the slightest. And she was about to get the shock of her life.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wolfe you are under arrest for fraud, embezzlement and forgery. You’re coming with us.” Y/LN pulled out her cuffs and began restraining the suspects.

Mr. Wolfe stammered, “E...Excuse me? We’ve done no such thing! Where is the proof?”

Dred spoke over Mr. Wolfe’ rambling, “Sir, you know how this goes. We are waiting to sentence you away from your daughter. Don’t make this any harder on yourself.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? These are my parents, they can’t do anything illegal.” Judge Wolfe’ shrill voice pierced through the clamour of the crowd.

“Stand down Judge. This isn’t your case.” Y/LN shot her down. She wasn’t about to deal with her tonight.

“No I will not stand down! I mean seriously, this can’t be happening. They wouldn’t steal. They donate to a bunch of charities-.”

Y/LN finished for her, “While lining their pockets. We’re not going to discuss this further.”

Wolfe whipped out her badge, “I am a Judge too and I order you not to take them.”

Dredd began pulling the Wolfe’s away, “You don’t have that authority. Stop making a fuss.”

“Also, I’m your partner. I know you’re a Judge. You’re supposed to know how this process works,” Y/L/N grumbled.

Wolfe stomped her foot, “If you take another step I’ll arrest you for...uh...kidnapping.”

Y/LN growled, “Wolfe this is your last chance, get out of the way.” Wolfe folded her arms in defiance, “Alright, you’re charged with obstruction of justice. One night in a holding cell.”

Wolfe’ mouth fell open. She didn’t move in time to escape the cuffs and before long all three Wolfe’ were escorted out.

Y/LN let out a large sigh of relief as she smiled at her husband, “That was so satisfying.”

“DAMN FUCKING RIGHT IT WAS!” Both Y/LN and Dredd flinched, grunting at the pain that lanced through their ears.

Dredd growled, “What the fuck, Montgomery?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. That was so cool. I had to put the comms on mute so I didn’t yell your ears off.”

“Don’t worry; I recorded it,” Rodrigez chimed in.

The heavy door on the transport closed with a heavy thunk. The Wolfes all hung their heads in shame. Y/N was about to leave but before she could get very far, something tugged on her hand.

She turned to see Dredd giving her only what she could call a sheepish grin. She couldn’t stop her answering smile from spreading across her lips.

“What?”

“Well.” He pulled her closer until their bodies were pressed together. “I can’t help but notice that you’re all nice and dressed up.”

She smiled as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her body molding against his, “You look rather handsome yourself.”

Dredd chuckled, “Why thank you. Now, we have a rare opportunity presented to us. We are both dressed up, out on the town and have the rest of the night free. Fuck the Wolfe. They’ll still be there in the morning.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, “Judge Dredd, putting off the law?”

He pressed his lips against hers, silencing her before pulling her away from the gathering crowd. They quickly disappeared into a nearby hotel. Y/N laughed nervously as she looked around.

The place was decorated lavishly. Even though they’d never been here before it was obvious it’d been decorated for some event. The chandeliers glinted like thousands of stars against a marble ceiling. Plush chairs were set around a large fireplace. Tables and desks shone with an intense red that Dredd didn’t know could belong to wood.

A clerk dressed in a tux glanced up from the front desk, “Hello, are you two here for the Midnight Gala?”

Dredd pressed his lips together, “ Yes?”

The clerk nodded before typing quickly on his computer, “Names please?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Y/LN,” Y/N answered.

After a few clicks he smiled, “Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Y/LN I’m so glad you could make it. I have your reservations right here. Would you like me to print out your invitations?”

Dredd shared a look with his wife before replying, “That’d be great.”

As they were being escorted through the hotel, Y/N leaned over to her husband, “What the fuck?”

The comms buzzed to life, “You’re welcome.”

“Montgomery? You’ve got to stop this, you’re being creepy.”

“Then turn off your cameras.”

Y/N grumbled before finally asking, “You did this?”

Montgomery chuckled, “You two looked so adorable such busy busy Judges. I figured you could use the break.”

Y/LN smiled despite the fact that the Handler couldn’t see her, “That’s awfully sweet of you. So, what’re you planning?”

“Nothing.” She replied. “But after you’re done I”ll be rooting for you to fuck him sideways.”

Y/N suppressed the urge to admonish her but instead turned off her camera and squeezed Dredd’s elbow, urging him to do the same.

[ninja-hamsterstyle]

Judge

A/N: … I really have no explanation for this, mostly because it took me almost two months to finish and I don’t have a memory. This is just… pure filth. Enjoy!

Pairing: Dredd x Reader

Words: 1,369

Warnings: Authority kink, swearing, dry humping, squirting, vaginal fingering, vaginal intercourse, teasing?

(A/N pt. 2: Dredd’s first name is Joseph, so the reader calls him Joey.)

 “Judge,” You breathed in his ear. “Judge Dredd.” Your voice cracked on his name, but you didn’t notice.

 Joey did, though.

 He sat stock-still in his chair, his hands gripping the arms of it as he stared at his paperwork on the desk. “I need to finish this paperwork, Y/N.” His voice was stern yet strained. He was desperately trying to ignore your mouth nipping and sucking along his neck, your hands gripping his shoulders… your bare pussy rubbing against him.

  “But Judge Dredd .” You hissed when you caught a particularly good angle. “I need you.” You leaned in and gently tugged his earlobe in-between your teeth.

  A low growl escaped from his throat without his permission. He swallowed nervously and gripped the arms of his chair even harder. There was no possible way you could’ve missed that.

  And you didn’t.

  “C’mon, Judge,” You practically purred. “Why don’t you take a break?”

  “Y/N,” He said through gritted teeth. “I’m almost done.” Air whistled through his teeth when you traced a finger along the edge of his pants.

  Your clit rubbed perfectly against his thigh, causing you to moan as your pussy spasmed. “So am I,” You breathed, moaning again.

  Another growl pushed past Joey’s lips. Unconsciously, he lifted his thigh up slightly, causing you to rub against it more firmly.

  “Joey!” You gasped, pulling away from his neck and tilting your head back. You wanted to make sure he saw your face when you came. “Oh, fuck!”

  His thigh pressed up into you as you rubbed against it and the friction had you crying out and clutching at his shoulder with your free hand. The edge was right there.

  Suddenly, Joey’s hand was between your bodies, rubbing roughly at your clit. A surprised gasp escaped your mouth, followed by a scream as you fell over the edge. Your fingers curled into his waistband as you grinded on his thigh. He worked you through your orgasm, groaning as he felt your juices soak through his pants.

  “Fuck, Judge,” You panted.

  He crashed his lips against yours as you came down from your orgasm, slowly the circles he was tracing on your clit. You let go of his waistband and wrapped both your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

  “You are impossible,” He muttered against your lips.

  “But that’s what you love about me,” You murmured back.

  His lips curved up against your and you smiled. He wrapped his free arm around your thighs, just under your ass. You squeaked in surprise when he suddenly stood, lifting you off of his lap and depositing you on the desk. His eyes were shining with arousal when he pulled away from the kiss to look at you.

  “Darlin’, I love everything about you,” He told you.

  Heat rose in your cheeks and  you opened your mouth to respond, but he didn’t give you a chance to respond. Before you can even blink, he’s down on his knees. He runs a hand along the length of your right leg and follows it with his mouth, nipping and kissing and licking. He takes a moment to suck a bruise into the soft skin of your inner thigh before giving your left leg the same treatment.

  “Joey,” You sighed, running your hands through his hair.

  Joey paused from where he had been trailing kisses up the junction between your leg and groin and bit your hip. You yelped out in mixture of pleasure and pain and surprise.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” He growled. “I didn’t hear you.”

  You gasped when he raised his eyes to meet yours. “Judge!’ You said quickly “Judge!”

  “That’s better, jailbait,” He approved. His mouth moved to your other hip, giving it the same treatment, and he relished the wrecked moan that fell from your lips. “Unauthorized touching of a Judge - especially touches of a sexual nature - give out a mandatory sentence of three months in the Iso Cubes,” He told you almost sternly, his breath hot against your skin. You gave him an innocent look (well, as innocent as you could get in your current position). Suddenly, one of his fingers was at your pussy, running through your wet folds. You squeaked in surprise and your body involuntarily leaned into the touch.

  Mischief gleamed in Joey’s eyes and a crooked smile played at his lips as he gave your hip a parting nip and stood up, his finger still partially in you. You found it hard to breathe as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his mouth a hair’s breadth away from yours as he said, “But since you’ve been on such good behavior up until recently, I think I’ll let you off with a warning, jailbait.”

  He dragged his finger to your clit, enjoying the wrecked sound you made when he rubbed a circle around it before pulling away. You whimpered at the loss, though the noise was quickly swallowed by your boyfriend as he kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. His hands went to his pants, making quick work of the belt and fly, then he pulled his pants and boxers down just below his ass.

  A quiet groan escaped his lips as the pressure on his erection is relieved. The sound is mimicked by you moments later when he shifted his hips forward and the head of his cock nudged against your folds.

  “Judge Dredd,” You gasped, breaking the kiss to throw your head back in pleasure. His hips moved more, slowly pushing his cock into you inch by inch.

  Joey kept his eyes on you, watching your face intently until he couldn’t take it anymore and dropped his head to your shoulder. He moaned into your skin as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. “Y/N.”

  It was quiet for a handful of minutes as he let you adjust to the full feeling of his cock inside your pussy, your breaths the only thing breaking the silence. Then you were reaching a hand up to grip at his shoulder, and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Please, Judge,” You whimpered. “Move.”

  He inhaled sharply, then pulled his hips back until only the tip of his cock was inside your pussy before slamming back into you. You both moaned, so he did it again. And again. And again, until he had a rhythm going. A rhythm that was already falling apart, but neither of you noticed enough to care.

  Joey grasped your hip with one hand and with the other held your free hand. You squeezed at his hand as if it were a lifeline as he pounded into you. Each thrust was rough, but perfect. Each one pulled a sound from you and had you scratching at his back. The heels of your feet dug into his ass, trying to bring him as close as possible.

  Starbursts danced behind your eyelids as your orgasm pushed you over the edge and it was all you could do to not scream the apartment down. Pleasure washed through you over and over again. Joey lifted his head from your shoulder and crashed his mouth against yours, swallowing your wordless cries and muffling his own grunts and moans as his cock started to pulse in your wildly clenching walls. His thrusts turned erratic as he spilled his seed into you, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.

  As your orgasms faded, you both started to relax. Joey gave you a long, sweet kiss while his cock stopped its final twitches before pulling out. You hissed in oversensitivity and he murmured an apology. He let go of you hand in favor of grabbing your other hip and lifted you up again, pulling you into his lap as he sat back in the desk chair once more. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around you, your foreheads pressed together as the two of you focused on catching your breaths.

  “I still have paperwork to do,” Joey said after a while.

  “Do it in the morning,” You mumbled. “I’m tired.”

  Your eyes were closed but you felt Joey shake his head and huff a laugh.

[emily-strange]

This is the lushest thing 😍

Vice

Summary: Dredd x Reader. Injured in the line of duty, Judge Dredd does not expect help to come in time. Dredd 2012 movieverse.

Words: 1,200

Warnings: Description of injury and bleeding

A/N: A little ficlet I wrote for @musikat18’s Friday headcanon theme of Vice. I thought I would tidy it up and post it properly. No tags since its just a random little thing.

…

Vice is everywhere in Megacity One. It oozes out of the cracks in the grimy concrete fabric of the urban sprawl, hangs in the thick, suffocating haze of smog that clings to the upper reaches of the mega blocks, fed by the selfish desires of the 800 million broken souls crammed into this hellscape.

Dredd has seen, and judged, it all.

He has apprehended and sentenced thousands of perps who make profit from the vices of others, to indulge in their own despicable wants. Power, sex, drugs, money, violence: it all boils down to human corruptibility, and Dredd wades knee deep in this stinking pit every day, trying to stem the flow without getting pulled under. He’s tired, and this time he thinks he’s going to drown. 

Keep reading

[musikat18]

Drabble Challenge Dredd and #4 please?

“Who gave you that black eye?”

“…Don’t laugh.”

“I never laugh,” he said dryly, brushing a hand across your cheek, just under the purple mark under your eye. “If I need to go make a judgement, I need a description of the perp.”

You fidgeted, “Well…they’re about my height…around my age…with my hair color and eye color.”

His frown deepened, “Obstruction of justice is the isocubes, Y/N.”

“Okay, well…” you tried to figure out the best way to say it without sounding like a dumbass, “what if I really…hypothetically, really wanted to try working out with that neat tiny punching bag of yours…and I did…hypothetically…and it hypothetically hit me in the face on a rebound…hypothetically.”

He took a moment to just stare at you.

“…Surprise?” you grinned and threw out your arms.

“Sit still, I’m getting the ice. This is why I can’t leave you alone for too long.”

(Drabble Prompts!)