#judge dredd x reader

[neo-grey]

There needs to be more judge dredd fanfictions 😭

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.)

Keep reading

[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)

[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." 

[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. 

[emily-strange]

Tear Us Apart, Part 1

Dredd and Y/N face a psychic blast from her past.

Part 1 of 3

Warnings: Lots of violence - like, a tone. Assault (kind of). Psychic manipulation.

It was a nightmare.

A total nightmare.

Y/N had been Dredd’s partner now on a countless number of patrols. His work with Cassandra Anderson was so well received that Y/N was placed with him next. She was well on her way to being a Psi-Judge.

Everything had been going swimmingly. Well, as swimmingly as it could get around Mega-City One. Cassie had told her to relax. That Dredd was tough but fair and she was right. He stuck to the letter of the law but when push came to shove, he made his own mind up about passing her despite her infractions. He’d just insisted to the Chief Judge that she shadow him until he deemed her safe alone and no one was going to argue with Judge Dredd.

Y/N definitely felt like she’d improved. She was waiting for…and dreading…the day that Dredd allowed her off alone or with another partner. She’d be thrilled to get the green light but the thought of not seeing him day to day felt like ice running down her spine. It was the awful cliché. The rookie falls for the seasoned superior. Like a bad holo-vid. But she couldn’t deny it.

His passion for what’s right and the way he delivered his judgements fueled many dirty dreams when alone in her one bed apartment. She always felt safe with him and that’s hard for her, growing up the way she did. Life in the new world wasn’t easy for orphaned mutants but he never treated her any differently. Well, that’s not completely true. On her birthday she turned up for patrol and had a paper bag thrust into her hands by Dredd. In it was a small cupcake from the cafe she likes down the street from the Hall of Justice. He sped off before she could say thank you but the smile she wore all day did the job she’s sure.

Sometimes she got the feeling he was keeping her close on purpose but that was quickly squashed when hearing others talk about him. He doesn’t make attachments. He doesn’t spend time with anyone. He works and sleeps. Some even questioned whether he eats but Y/N knew that was ridiculous. They’d eaten together lots of times. At the Hall of Justice or at her place after a long, grueling day.

The one thing she did indulge in listening to were the theories of why he never removed his helmet.

There were rumours that he was horribly disfigured or missing an eye. That he was only half human and that his brain was completely A.I. Y/N knew he was all human, she’d sometimes slip into his head when she was too tired to control herself. Never for long and she never went any further than feeling his tiredness or frustrations like they were her own. He trusted her to stay out and she did.

Until now.

They were on patrol, still early in the day, when they responded to a shooting at a Mega-Block. She was called in specifically for her association with one of the gang members. A girl that she and Cassie knew a long time ago. Petra ended up how a lot of Psychic orphans do in this city. She fell in with the wrong crowd. Petra earned a name for herself on her ability to mess with the minds of rivals and HQ thought Y/N may have an in with her to stop the killings before it got too bad.

They were wrong.

Petra was far stronger than Y/N remembered and instead of simply shooting them when her gang got the upper hand, she wanted to ‘play’. This meant delving into Y/N’s head to try and see her weakness, her greatest fear. But she wouldn’t let that happen. Not until a gang member put the barrel of her gun under Dredd’s jaw and Y/N panicked.

Petra found her way in.

Petra had taunted her for her affections towards Dredd. Her superior. Commented on times from the past that left nothing but humiliation in their wake. Misunderstood moments with boys. Failed kisses. Rejections. Y/N didn’t care. Bring it all up as long as Petra’s attention was on her and not Dredd.

Petra wasn’t just stronger now but sadistic. Years in the gang had hardened and twisted her. She got off on turning others brains to mush; on forcing them to live their most horrifying fears. And she really seemed to hate Y/N. For no real reason. Other than Y/N being accepted by society and Petra not.

Y/N and Dredd were forced to kneel facing each other. His helmet was ripped from his head and Y/N looked off into a far corner behind him, keeping his face a blur. She’d always hoped he’d show her his face one day but this wasn’t his choice. She wouldn’t take that choice from him.

Petra entered his mind and took Y/N along for the ride.

The images she put there were vile and perverse, just like her. She didn’t just make him see, she made him believe that he was assaulting Y/N as she and Petra watched on. Y/N saw herself on the ground, crying and pushing at Dredd’s still armoured body as he landed blows of his fists. Then she was in her place, wearing nothing but small shorts and a tank top. Nothing to protect her from his strength.

She tried to stay calm. She told herself this wasn’t him. She could see Petra off to the side, laughing and taunting him as he moved. Dredd still had his helmet on, making it more realistic Y/N guessed. His teeth were bared and his fists bloody and broken. He gets up and begins kicking her. Picking her up by her hair and throwing her back to the ground.

Y/N tried to reach out to Dredd with her mind, tried to tell him it was okay. That she knew the pain she was feeling wasn’t him and that is wasn’t happening. Not really. But all she could feel was despair and hatred. She’d tell him it wasn’t real and he’d say how can it not be? He feels it. And he can’t stop. He feels the bones in Y/N’s body breaking. He can see the terror on her face.

Despite the agony in her body and the fear of the next hit, Y/N pushes herself further into his mind and sees things she knows she shouldn’t.

She sees herself returning his academy jumper. The one he’d lent her after a long day of patrols when it started to snow out. When she leaves, he lifts it to his nose and inhales. Enjoying the scent of almonds from her body wash and shampoo. It calms him. She sees herself sparring in the gym with another rookie and feels the pride in his chest as she throws the guy to the ground. Lastly, she sees herself eating takeout food, stuffing her face less than gracefully as she tells him a story from her childhood. She feels the contentment he has seeing her so happy and relaxed. And the bitter taste of insecurity when he thinks to himself, why would anyone so sweet be happy with him?

In the present she moves from his mind back to reality, so to speak and chokes on the blood in her mouth. She spits is out and looks down at her body. Her shorts are torn and her top is covered in tears and blood. She catches sight of herself in Dredd’s visor and her face is unrecognisable. He lets out a strangled “NO” before lifting his foot over her head.

Y/N cowers the best she can but Dredd’s foot just hovers mid-air.

Petra shouts at someone outside of their brain bubble when all of a sudden, she frees their minds. Suddenly they’re back facing each other with Dredd hanging his head low, the only thing keeping him up is the gang member holding his arms. When the member abruptly lets go, Dredd crumples onto the floor. Everyone around them quickly filters from the room while Petra grabs at her things and sneers.

“Good luck with the boyfriend!” she laughs and skips from the apartment. Y/N hears sirens and searches quickly for her gun, finding it tossed into the corner of the room. She grabs the gun and before giving herself a moment to overthink it, chases them into the stairwell. Y/N only makes it down a few stairs before she hears a Judge’s warning followed by bullets and screams. She reaches out for Petra’s mind but finds nothing. Good riddance.

With the perps taken care of and help making its way quickly to them, Y/N runs back to Dredd. He’s still in the same spot on the floor but he’s being sick. As he heaves, Y/N grabs his helmet and kneels in front of him, not caring that vomit gets on her armour.

“Sir..” she says gently then “SIR” when he doesn’t respond. She puts her hand on his back and thrusts his helmet into his eyeline, still making sure to avoid looking at his face. “Dredd, back-ups here. You need to put your helmet on.”

Upon hearing mention of his helmet, Dredd reaches out for it. Quickly placing it on his head. Once in place, he looks at Y/N who tries to give him a reassuring smile. She tries to use her sleeve to wipe vomit from his chin but he flinches back, making her want to burst into tears right there.

As soon as they hear their fellow Judges’ callout, they slip back into their roles. She rides back to the Hall of Justice alone and by the time she’s done showering and changing, Dredd has already left.

[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]

Dredd Masterlist

Judge*

[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!)

[rodpupo2]

Research: Project Finish

Tim Sale

Tim Sale is a famous comic book artist, who had worked in several titles along with the writer Jeff Loeb, including Batman, Spider-Man, Superman, Daredevil, and many others.

Tim Sale was born in may of 1956, in New York, where he studied visual arts, spent a good time of his life in Seattle, and today he lives in California.

For some years he drew his art privately, only to please himself. When he found himself working at a fast food in his late twenties, however, he decided to try to sell some of his work. This led to an association with Thives’ World Graphics, a fantasy anthology series, where he illustrated stories.

What most marks his work is the dramatic aspect that he manages to obtain in the characterization of his characters and in the scenarios he creates, making the stories unique and immortalizing the characters.

The union of Sale’s art with Loeb’s engaging narrative has become the perfect marriage for mysterious plots.

One of the most striking characters worked by Sale was Batman, which he drew “The Long Halloween”, “Dark Victory” and “Halloween”. He was able to fully transfigure the dark aura of Gotham and his Dark Knight. He also worked with Superman in the saga “ Superman for All Seasons”.

Both of The Long Halloween and For All Seasons are what is known as “Year one” comics. These works take their heroes back in time to their earliest days of crime fighters.

His main tool is watercolor, which he uses with mastery. Sale's palette of colors is something really impressive, always drawing and painting his characters very delicately, and calmly. His style is very cartoonish, although this does not diminish his art in any way, on the contrary, his style is very unique and characteristic.

Pedro Franz

Is a Brazilian comic book artist, who was born in Santa Catarina and has a degree in design.

He has been publishing several comic books and participating in exhibitions in Brazil and abroad. As an illustrator, he has published works several magazines and books, and regularly collaborates with the Piauí magazine. As a graphic designer, he is a contributor to the Par (Ent) Esis platform. He has comics translated and published in English and Spanish, and has good international recognition, thanks to his publications.

But what is most impressive in Pedro's art, perhaps is his intensive use of colors. Mixing various shades of different colors, mixing different compositions. In addition to sometimes using characters from pop culture, with his elaborate style.

Despite liking traditional comics, he has always published and worked for national publishers, often with authorial works.

Perhaps his best known work, which was even published in the United States is the comic ��Suburbia”.

Suburbia tells the story of Conceição, a girls daughter of enslaved rural workers, who flees to Rio de Janeiro in the early 1990s. In the city, Conceição begins to work as a cleaner and to get involved in the world of funk, slums and poverty.

His drawings are extremely surreal, not exactly following a traditional way of making comics, with several images spread across the page, with different shapes and sizes, with extremely strong colors, mainly valuing blue, purple, yellow and red, as his main colors.

Richard Corben

Richard Corben was one of the contributors of elevating the comics to the category of Art, and of its unparalleled style of great influence among many current artists.

Richard Vance Corben was born in Missouri, United States on October 1940, in a family of farmers in the middle west ( where he started reading comics), and lived in Kansas City. There he studied Fine Arts, got married, had a girl and started working in local cinematography animation company. At the same time, he started to create and publish some underground fanzines. From the begging it was clear that he was interested in science fiction, eroticism, and total rejection of institutions ( the Army, the Church, etc), mixed with a lot of humor.

At a young age, Corben was an aficionado of bodybuilding, just like everyone who was interested in a persons aesthetics. The first character that he created, was Rowlf, a dog who took on a human form. In the beginning of the 1970s he amplified his work ( and his fame) in some underground magazines. And in 1971 he started working for the Heavy Metal publisher where he created one of his most famous characters, Den a large muscular man, who was always naked, and always after some adventure.

Corben has a very particular style, with unsettling mixture of caricatured, often satirical grotesque and intense,convincing realism. Never before had such wildly cartoonish worlds proved so convincing.

Also he can handle an exponentially higher standard because of his ability to use colour to show the effect of light on whatever he’s depicting. The way that he mixes light and colors in certain panels to differentiate those elements from each other, is something to admire.

Corben worked in a few mainstream comics, he always preferred to work with authorial works or working in specific themes like fantasy and science fiction comics and not so much on superheroes.

But probably the most famous mainstream comic that ever worked was the character Hellboy, along with writer Mike Mignola.

Hellboy is a series of comics that has a lot of mysticism, Norse mythology, horror and monsters. Something Corben certainly agreed to do, without thinking twice.

Richard Corben is one of my favorite artists, with a style that is perhaps not as realistic as an Alex Ross for example, but the humor and beauty that he puts in his characters is very unique.

Corben died on December 2, 2020, leaving a great legacy, for the world of comics and arts, with a very unique style and extremely stunning worlds.

Charlie Allard 

Charlie Adlard is a British comic book artist, who have worked on the comic industry for over 25 years. He spent the majority of his time since 2003 working in The Walking Dead along side with writer Robert Kirkman , until the last issue on 2019 He started reading comics when he was very young, and he said that he was very lucky to have influences of American comics and the more high art, such as Asterix and Tin Tin. He was fascinated by European comic books artists like Moebius, Alberto Uderzo and Herge. He started his career as many British artists and writers, working on 2000 AD, with characters such as Judge Dredd, Armitage and eventually Savage. In the United States he started working with the X Files, Astronauts in trouble, and of course The Walking Dead. Adlard started in The Walking Dead from issue 7, and brought a slightly different style, from the previous artist. Adlard's art is very cartoonish, but the universe of The Walking Dead still doesn't get silly because of it. Quite the opposite, the dirt and rot that Adlerd puts on his characters and the world, only sustains what a horrible world it is to live in. Many readers complain about Adlard's style, being very simple, that his characters are very similar, and sometimes it is difficult to identify them. But I believe that although his style does not vary much, when it comes time to show a horde of zombies, a devastated city, people feeling despair, and extremely disturbing scenes, Adlard manages to excel. Adlard's main tool is ink. All The Walking Dead magazines are in black and white, and he manages to give a lot of depth to the scenarios and characters using only a few ink stains. Today Adlard is doing some comics, mainly for DC, but says that he does not intend to work with Kirkman and zombies again, because he wants to explore other themes, and to innovate his drawing skills.

Zaha Hadid

Zaha Hadid was one of the most important and well known figures in contemporary architecture and design. With a singular trajectory, marked by a versatile, bold and out of the box style, she was the first woman to receive Pritzker Prize for architecture and was also the only female representative honored by the Royal Institute of British Architects with a golden medal. Zaha Hadid was born in Iraq, more precisely in the city of Halloween, in Bagdá, in the year 1950. Her family was of high class, her father being an important politician and her mother an artist. Still young, she traveled and studied in other places of the world, like London and Switzerland, but it was in her native land the she got her first formation, when she graduated in mathematics. At the age of 22, in 1972, she enrolled in one of the most famous independent schools of architecture in London, and there she gave the starting point to her career by studying and creating an important connection with the Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas, a figure that encouraged her and opened the doors for opportunities. Later in the 1980s, Zaha Hadid decided to open her own office. This, Zaha Hadid Architects was born, which made her name and talent recognized worldwide. Known for her works with futuristic lines, clean and pure forms, as well as the fragmentation of architectural design. Her projects and discussions raise issues that put architecture and its future to the test. This is because the architect seeks in her works to interrelate design, architecture and urbanism. I knew Hadid and some of her works, but it was the recommendation of my teacher Lauren, that I should look for this architect. As my project takes place in the future, she recommended that I look at some works by Zaha Hadid to get inspiration when creating the scenario for the comic. I find it very interesting how her works have this futuristic aesthetic , because it reminds me of science fiction films like Blade Runner with those skyscrapers and buildings with different shapes and sizes that are extremely imaginative that could only exist in films. With unique works and projects, famous for their exuberance, futuristic elements, curves, non linear shapes, distortions and fragmentations, Hadid inspired and generated fascination both for her constructions around the world.

Syd Mead

Syd Mead was a designer, best known for working on films such as Aliens, Blade Runner, Tron and Star trek. Mead was born in Minnesota, United States, on July of 1933, but five years later he moved to a second house in the western of United States prior to graduating from High School in Colorado in 1951. Some years later, he did the Art Center School in Los Angeles, where he graduated with great distinction in 1959. He was immediately recruited by  the Ford Motor Company. At Ford he worked in the advanced styling department, creating futuristic concept car designs. But his imagination went beyond cars and he began to imagine clothes, helmets, buildings and scenery from hyper advanced civilization. After Ford, he also worked in other big companies like Chrysler, Sony and Phillips. After that he started migrating to the concept art world of movies. Mead is really important for generation of writers of science fiction, because many of them were influenced by Mead’s colorful paintings. Mead never wrote a novel or short story. He imagined the future in his mind and turned that imagination into illustrations. In 1979 he designed the extraterrestrial spaceship for the first film “Star Trek” in the cinema. Ridley Scott called Mead to design the buildings and flying cars of the futuristic Los Angeles “Blade Runner” in 1982. In 1986 he was hired to design the space station and vehicles of the movie Aliens directed by James Cameron. Almost at the same time, the designer created the electronic world of “Tron” for Disney studios. The same ones who hired him in 2014 to design the futuristic city of “Tomorrowland”. Mead died in 2019 after three years of lymphoma, he was 86 years old. He was a great influence for many designers and science fiction writers and illustrators, due for his creative worlds and automobiles , Elon Musk quotes Mead as one of his major influences, on visions of the automotive future and design in general.

Transmetropolitan by Warren Ellis and Darick Robertson 

Transmetropolitan is a comic written by the British writer Warren Ellis and the American illustrator Darick Robertson, published by the Vertigo label, and falls within the cyberpunk genre, and the problems that rampant technology will cause us.

Throughout the 60 issues of Transmetropolitan, Ellis and Robertson build a chaotic and brilliantly alive future, presenting a sci-fi society with a peculiar mix of elements of cyberpunk, political dystopias, bioengineering and transhumanism, sexuality, economics and much more.

In a dystopia, in a not so distant future, the journalist Spider Jerusalem is isolated for fiver years in a hut in the forest, but he has to return to the city to earn some money.

Throughout the comic, amid a nihilistic aura that humanity has no salvation, the author- Warren Ellis - criticizes the consumerism and futility. The illustrations, of Darick Robertson, is full of excesses as the environment should be, a brand of the style of the 1990s.

The search for the truth is the central theme of this work, and in the midst of all this we found ourselves in a investigative odyssey that involves the lowest scum of that society ( thieves, murderers and rapists) until reaches the highest of the scum ( the presidency).

This background allows the work to touch on the most profound social themes, and without fear of saying what needs to be criticized, this is where Transmetropolitan shines, and provoke deep reflections on issues such as racism, the influence of media, the power of religions, the education, and many other themes.

In short, Transmetropolitan dissects and criticizes everything, it points out the flaws, the lies and the hypocrisy of each one. It’s a study about the problems of democratic society in the 21th century.

Jon Mcnaught 

Jon Mcnaught was born in 1985, London, England. He work with drawing comics, and work as an illustrator, printmaker and lecturer. After spending several years on the Falkland Islands during his childhood, which will inspire his second book, Pebble island. The book pass years after the war, where he tries to recreate his childhood, with aspects of his curiosity, when he was exploring abandon bunkers, where it was just part of landscape, or somewhere where he could play. His work has essentially been landscape print-making (often situated in the city), but with quite simple intention of capturing the sense of space, light, time etc. His work is mostly about that, places that he was interested in depicting, and trying to reproduce the visual. He want the characters to feel like elements of a landscape or an environment ( he preferes to focus more on the background, than the characters itself). But usually he uses figures and postures to suggest expressions rather than close ups showing facial features. What I like about Mcnaught's work is that they are simple designs, but the colors are very vivid. The way he constructs the scenarios is very invective, because it doesn’t need to be extremely detailed, he just needs a few lines to show what he is talking about.

[ditch-witches]

Insufferable (iv) - George MacKay x reader

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

requested: yes/no (this is it. i'm done finally. thank you for your time.)

God bless @/okay.l0z

"Hi! I've been reading your fics and I love them so much bc there's hardly any around. I was wondering if you take insta requests and if so can you do one with George and the reader are like enemies to loves and they have really cute moments but then end up fighting all the time and then it escalates and they end up having sEx and then get together or something bc I will THRIVE IF YOU DO!" ... "Is it bad if I want it long ass?"

pairing: George MacKay x reader

warnings: an annoying ass insecurity moment, mentions of matcha

word count: 1,412

a/n: We wrote this during a sorority's pledge night and thought we were in the middle of a cult initiation ---- Basically the same thing but they didn't offer us any of the blood of previous sisters. #bummed

You laid awake most of the night, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. What had you done. There was a clock hanging on George's wall near his bed, the ticking seeming to grow louder and louder as you noticed it. Where did the lipstick come from earlier. His duvet was blue, not uncharacteristic for him, but you were pleasantly surprised at how soft his sheets were and that he slept on the side you usually avoided. Did you even love him.

Did you even love him?

What if you had been so wrapped up in passion and rage that it just felt like you did? As your high began to wear off, you wondered why you were even there. George deserved better than someone who wasn't sure. How could he have been in love with you for so long yet he chose now to make it evident? Why couldn't he have told you years prior, when you weren't finally getting somewhere with your career? The horrific aspect of it all was the fact that as soon as the sun came up the next day, the next day of your real lives away from the theatre, George would have the possibility of deciding that he didn't actually love you. Then where would you be? Back in bed with Mark, living out your dreary day-by-day as if nothing had ever happened? As you laid there, thinking about all the possibilities of what could happen, there was still one major thing on your mind: Where did the lipstick come from?

As the sunlight began to peek through the blinds, your heart sank. You felt sick and worried, knowing that at any moment, he could wake up. What would you tell him? 'I don't know what's going on. You deserve someone who does. You deserve someone who wears that shade of lipstick.' Surely not. You turned your head to look at George, his hair sprawled out over his dark pillowcase as he slept peacefully, the covers wrapping around his bare torso. The stripes from the blinds barred across his back, the latter pattern changing every so often as the sun moved behind a cloud or higher into the sky. His face was calm and without the intensity, it holds when he's awake, mainly a difference between when he's deep in thought. He looked younger and almost zen. You itched to know what he was dreaming.

You bit your lip slightly and without thought, picked yourself up out of bed to silently sweep your clothes up from around the room. Guilt weighed on your heart as you took one last look at the boy before you left his apartment. You needed to run, to keep running until your lungs burned and your legs could barely hold you up, something else to give you feeling rather than having to sort your feelings out. So you did, in your new dress and bare feet; you ran.

In the next few weeks, you attempted to gather your thoughts and sort your life out. How could you invite George in when you didn't even have a spot for him? You started off by addressing the fact that you had gotten kicked out of your own show for punching an understudy. You had texted the director earlier begging him to meet up so you could explain the situation in the hopes of smoothing over whatever feathers you had inadvertently ruffled. Thankfully he had agreed.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I wasn't firing you. I literally just wanted you to calm down."

You thought about his sentence said over a steaming cup of a matcha flavored drink, his rowdy hair blowing frantically around his head as your eye twitched slightly. Your head filled with new script plots and coursework to mix with the overwhelmed unease you experienced whenever George flashed into your mind.

His face, his hands, his voice. Every sacred touch from the man seemed to be tattooed on you, but the thought of him only came to you at night when you were alone with your never-ending stream of consciousness. You thought mainly about what it was like to finally rest in his arms. It had been too long since you hadn't talked to him. Had he forgotten about you? Had he moved on to whomever the lipstick belonged to? You started staying in most nights, catching up on work to keep you busy.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Why had he said that? Why hadn't you said it back?

It was in November when you got an email from your local movie theater about a "throwback" night. Headlining was none other than Judge Dredd. You chuckled to yourself slightly, looking at the paperwork surrounding you and---for once---thought fuck it. You deserved a night off. Grabbing your jacket and heading out, you noticed it beginning to snow. You pulled your jacket tighter around you to combat the cold air, your mind briefly drifting to the night when you were stuffed into George's car, bundled up in his hoodie. You were within walking distance to the theater, and after getting your ticket, your seat was even easier to find. Judge Dredd hadn't made it big in the '90s---shocker---so you were honestly surprised that more than four people had shown up to the screening. Sinking into your chair, you felt small. The movie flashed onto the screen and you chuckled to yourself at the opening song, thinking of the last time you had seen the film with your brother.

And George.

The seat next to you creaked as someone settled in beside you. You didn't think to look up, only the thought of why they would have picked that seat when the whole theater was basically free crossed your mind. A familiar scent invaded your senses, your brows furrowing as you turned your head, catching the gaze of George. The two of you shared a look, your heartbeat quickening as the blues in his eyes seemed to deepen. He didn't look sad, his expression still dressed like the day on the street. You wanted to cry, finding it hard not to tell him everything at once. Instead, you turned back to the screen, breathing shallowly. A few moments passed of Sylvester Stalone's voice filling the theater until your hand fell beside your leg, wanting to be closer to George. You didn't look at him again, biting back the emotion threatening to spill over. His pinky reached out for you and you moved to grab his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his. He let out a sigh of relief and you took the opportunity to lean towards him, resting your head on his shoulder, the softness of his sweater feeling like home to you. You exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding in, finally feeling at peace.

"I love you," you whispered.

EPILOGUE.

You slipped your dress on, struggling to get the zipper up, feeling like you had lost your independence. You had been spoiled with a man that would zip you up without being asked. You groaned slightly, tugging your shoes on instead and calling out. George peeked around the doorframe, his eyebrows raised slightly as he tugged at his cuffs. "Do you mind?" You asked, holding up your hair and turning your back to him. You heard him chuckle, walking over to you and zipping your dress up, placing a kiss to the back of your neck. "I feel like a damn beached whale."

George let out an almost snickering response. "I love whales."

"You're not helping." You turned to him, rolling your eyes slightly. His features seemed to soften as he looked you over. He still looked at you like you were standing beside the altar next to him.

You stretched your back. He shrugged. "We could skip?"

"No, last time you said that I got pregnant." You fought not to smile at your own complaint. "I'm done being pregnant. Maybe if you win tonight, it'll be over."

George rolled his eyes, bending slightly to mockingly rest his cheek against your stomach. "Take your time, little one. Mummy's just being an ass."

You pushed him away from you. "Stop corrupting her! I'm supposed to be the favorite parent!"

He crossed his arms, a smirk playing at his lips. "Oh, I beg to differ."

You pushed past him, grabbing your bag as you left the room. "You're insufferable. You know that?"

"Bite me."

[one-boring-person]

I Knew You'd Say That. (Part 2/2)

Joseph Dredd (Judge Dredd) x reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, dirty talk, denied orgasm (maybe?) Oral, swearing, mention of injury

Context: Dredd is not happy when he sees the reader out of bed.

A/n: this crappy smut has been what's been holding up writing this week, but it was fun to attempt, even if it is really out of character. Enjoy!

Masterlist

(This gif tho)

I wince as I lean too heavily on one foot, biting back a sharp inhalation as pain stabs up through the limb. Instantly, I lean against the wall beside me, feeling a rush of relief flood me as the weight disappears from the injured appendage, my breathing shallow as I steel myself for yet another try. 

It's been weeks since the attack, and my body has only just managed to recover enough to let me move around better, though it has been left scarred, maimed and weakened by the vicious blows. There's a new scar circling round the edge of my face, where my helmet was smashed into my face to leave a gaping gash, many similar marks marring my skin. Puce bruises still stain my limbs and torso, particularly around my broken ribs, but they'll fade after another week or so, though they are unbelievably painful if I lean on them at all. It's what makes walking so difficult, though this is also mostly down to the fractured bones in my left foot, which have taken an age to heal properly. 

Biting my lip now, I push back off the wall, groaning in pain as my leg flares up again, but this time I don't let off again, simply forcing back the tears as I step further into the room. Each step is agony, but it's far better than how I was at the beginning of the week, when I could barely stand up. Of course, the doctors at the medical wing had told me strictly not to get up until I can take my weight with no pain, but I got far too bored, and I'm eager to get back to my job, despite what happened to me last time. With this in mind, I push myself to hobble over to the sofa, intending to sit on it, only to halt when I hear a familiar voice informing me of someone's presence at the door.

Frowning, I command the door to open, glad that Central is listening to me for once, only to freeze in place as I see the figure entering. Swallowing nervously, I straighten my posture as best I can, saluting as I fight back the urge to hide, aware of my lack of presentable clothing - I'm in a simple nightshirt and underwear, something I'd never thought the newcomer would ever see of me. Not that I hadn't thought about it, but he sure as hell hasn't.

"Judge Dredd, I didn't realise you were visiting." I stutter slightly, trying to ignore the waves of pain coursing up through my legs now.

"You're supposed to be in bed." The blunt Judge states, gruff voice matter-of-fact, his gaze hidden from me by the visor of his helmet, though I grow a little hot at the thought of his eyes taking in my body.

"I, err…" I try to find the right words, but he isn't hearing any of it.

"Return immediately." He orders me, his tone and words sparking something deep within me, a flush of embarrassment going through me as I try to fight back the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

"But what about-" I go to ask, only for him to hold a hand up to silence me. 

"Are you disobeying me?" He inquires, his lip quirking up ever so slightly at the corner as he regards me from under his helmet.

"N-no, sir! Sorry." I apologize, going to limp back into my bedroom.

The Street Judge watches me for a further moment, before he quickly approaches me. Without further ado, Dredd leans down and scoops me into his arms, easily lifting me into his hold as he starts off towards my bedroom, cradling me against his firm chest. Confused, I gaze up at him, trying to ignore the sudden burst of longing that came to life with his unprecedented touch, my hands resting gingerly on his armour. 

Over the past weeks, during my recovery, the superior Judge has often been in to visit me, having explained to me that he found me. Before the accident, the two of us were acquaintances, good ones but still only acquaintances, and now? Now we're good friends, though there are some days, like today, where he likes to pull rank, and days like those leave me uncomfortable and wanting when he leaves. There's just something about the way he orders me about that strikes something deep within me, and I have no idea how to stop it. I'm well aware that he doesn't share the same feelings, but that doesn't mean that my head doesn't like to run wild with incredibly lewd images of him dominating me, commanding me to bring myself, or him, pleasure, using that deep voice I love so much to push me further into that heavenly abyss.

I have to snap myself out of my thoughts before I become too wrapped up in them, biting back a sigh as Dredd finally lays me down in my bed, his hands lingering at my hips as he does so, body leaning over mine. After a moment, he seems to recollect himself and he steps away, looking as if he wants to leave. Instantly, I put a hand out, grabbing his sleeve. 

The Judge turns his helmeted gaze on me, stiff posture softening a little.

"Please stay, sir." I whisper, wanting the company. 

He stays silent for a long moment, before he gingerly sits down on the edge of my bed, looking down at me, waiting a further minute until he removes his helmet, revealing his handsome face to the air. I have to stop myself from shivering under his intense, blue-eyed stare, his almost impassive expression making me feel as if he can see straight through me. It's intimidating, but I know it's just a front, and the gentle smile I know so well breaks out onto the stone-cold mask a few seconds after. 

"You really should rest more, (Y/n)." He murmurs, allowing his eyes to roam down my body shamelessly now, most likely under the pretence of inspecting my injuries. 

"I know. I just find it so boring, being stuck in here all day everyday." I reply, feeling a little sheepish, my cheeks burning under his piercing gaze, "It's driving me insane."

"Is it now?" The Street Judge smirks, lifting a hand to run lightly over one of the scars on my leg. I whimper quietly at his touch, goosebumps rising along my skin in his wake.

"Y-yeah…" I sigh out, trying to keep a straight face as he starts to caress my leg properly, his large hand easily encompassing bigger areas of my thigh as it skates up over the injuries, the warmth of his palm drawing a shaky breath from me.

He's quiet for a moment, during which he strokes my leg, tracing his fingers over the line of my underwear, teasing small sounds of pleasure out of me. His touch is almost hypnotic, and I find myself getting more and more riled up under his ministrations, my control slipping fast. Slowly, he creeps his hand further up, pushing my nightshirt up to reveal my torso to him, where he presses his palm flat against my abdomen. Leaning down, Dredd smirks at me again, whispering to me in a sultry tone.

"Think you might need a bit of release?" He purrs to me, voice dropping an octave as he says this, his teeth momentarily brushing against my ear lobe.

Gasping, I arch into his touch, heat suddenly rushing to my core. 

"Y-yes...I think so…" I manage to say, enjoying his touch greatly.

A low chuckle fills my ears, stirring the heat in my abdomen further as he sits back upright, pupils dilating now.

"Well, you're not gonna get it with your shirt on." Dredd almost patronizes me, his tone swiftly turning commanding again, "Take it off."

At his order, I feel my body go weak, my arms rushing to obey before my head can catch up, the nightshirt swiftly disappearing as I reveal my bare chest to him. A flush burns my cheeks as the Street Judge allows his eyes to explore my every flaw and imperfection, roaming over every plane of skin and muscle on my torso, my hands moving to cover myself. Immediately, his piercing eyes flick up to mine.

"Put your arms down. I want to be able to see what I'm doing to you." I feel a thrill of excitement at his words, hearing the dark promise behind them even as his commanding tone sends shockwaves down my spine.

Lazily, Dredd lifts a hand, placing his index finger at my lower lip. It doesn't stay there long, the Judge slowly trailing it down to my jaw, which he follows to my ear. A shiver goes through me as he drags it down my neck to my collarbone, skimming it in favour of ghosting over my left breast. I can't help the whine that falls from my lips as he deliberately strokes the digit over my nipple, his eyes taking in my every reaction, a content smirk on his lips. Repeating his action, Dredd circles my nipple a few times, until he pulls away, a noise of disappointment escaping me before I can stop it.

Lifting an eyebrow, Dredd stands from the bed, carefully taking off his armour and placing it on the floor, swiftly remaining me again, this time sat between my legs, which part to accept his muscular frame. My thighs rest on his, his hands gripping my hips lightly as he scans my body again, desire flooding my system as I watch his gaze darken into a hungry lust.

"I should've tortured those criminals for harming you like this. You look absolutely ravishing." He comments, running a hand up my body to trace over the angry mark the bullet wound left on my skin. 

Flushing at his words, I arch into his touch, surprised when his lips suddenly connect with mine, pressing insistently as he grips my body tightly, holding me against him. Wincing against the dull pain, I eagerly return the kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer, eagerly opening up when he tongues at my lower lip, the muscle swiftly slipping inside. The Judge licks into my mouth thoroughly, exploring everywhere he can as he swallows my every noise. Pleasure floods me as he kisses me, a whine of loss leaving me when he pulls away.

Instantly, his lips are at my neck, leaving hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses all over the smooth expanse of skin. I gasp at the sensation of his tongue flicking out to press against one spot, whimpering when he bites down to leave a mark. He sucks a dark spot onto the sensitive skin, carrying on with his pleasurable assault all around my neck, my hands soon wrapped in his hair to hold him closer to me, need pulsing through me.  

As soon as he is satisfied that he's properly appreciated my neck, the Judge languidly licks his way down to my collarbone, where he starts to leave wet kisses in his wake. Panting now, I arch up into him, moaning as he drags his tongue down between my breasts, my hips rolling up into his until he uses a hand to hold me down. With a deliberate slowness, he nibbles his way up and over my right breast, his eyes flicking up to meet mine as he flattens his tongue over my nipple. The hungry, cunning look in his eyes is enough to make me moan softly, a bolt of need going straight through me. He smirks into my skin as he starts to lick and suck at my breast, every sound falling from my lips now one of desire.

"Ah, Dredd! Feels so good….ahh!' I moan out, tightening my fingers in his hair for emphasis. 

Grinning, he pulls back.

"Yeah? You like that, (Y/n)?" His voice is huskier now, drawing yet another whine from me.

"Y-yes! I do!"

Chuckling, he returns to his ministrations, moving to my other breast to repeat his actions. By the time he's finished, he's got me writhing beneath him, whimpers and moans falling from my lips with every breath, heat pulsing between my legs as I fight to find friction. Noticing my plight, Dredd leans back, sitting back on his heels as he rakes his gaze over my sweating form, smirking as he sees me wriggling a little against his hand. 

"Look at you, you're so needy." He purrs, trailing his hand down to cup my core through my underwear. Instantly, a squeak of surprised pleasure escapes me, my hips bucking up under his touch. 

Triumphantly, the Judge presses down with his fingers, the heel of his hand digging into my clit, sending a rush of pleasure through me. My breaths come fast as he explores the cloth of my panties, probing at my most sensitive areas as if he wasn't pushing me further and further into euphoric insanity. With another deviant grin, he takes his hand away, ignoring my groan of displeasure in favour of maneuvering my panties off of me, leaving me exposed to the air. He flings them away, before his hand returns to my core. 

This time, a long, pornographic moan pulls from my throat, my body reacting violently to his calloused touch, the sensation of his rough fingertips brushing through my slick folds sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. Bucking my hips into him, I try to grind down onto his hand, but he simply pushes me back down with a disapproving tut, his blue eyes fixed on my every reaction. Whining, I can only lean back and gasp in ecstasy as he starts to stroke a lazy figure of eight onto my clit, a knot slowly starting to grow in my stomach from his deliberate ministrations. Dragging his fingers downwards, Dredd's eyes darken as he watches me steadily unfolding beneath him, his hand soon moving from my abdomen to his crotch, which he starts palming roughly. 

On the verge of screaming in pleasure, i feel my mouth fall open as he presses a finger into me, torturously rubbing along every sensitive nerve inside me. Moaning, I grind down onto him, whimpering when he takes his hand from his clothed cock in favour of holding me down again, the finger inside me moving to find my most sensitive spot, each action creating more and more ripples of lust and desire. After a moment, he then adds a second finger, curling them into me.

"Ah...Dredd That feels….so good...ah, fuck!" My voice breaks as he suddenly scissors his fingers, smugness flooding his clear eyes.

"You wanna cum, hm? Wanna feel that release?" He hums to me, leaning down to sloppily kiss my jawline.

"Yes...ah….yes!" I manage out, eyes widening as he picks up speed, thrusting his fingers into me roughly, building up my pleasure. 

Just as I feel myself come close to letting go, however, he stops, pulling his fingers from my pussy with a wet sound. Gasping in shock, I look up at him, eyes widened in confusion and disappointment. 

"D-Dredd?" I pant, head cocked to the side.

He smirks at me and leans down to my ear.

"I said I'd give you a release. I intend to make it a good one, so you're gonna have to wait a little longer." He gently bites down on my earlobe, "I want to feel you cum around my cock." 

I can't stop the guttural moan that leaves me at his words, my pussy clenching in anticipation.

With a smirk, Dredd reattaches his lips to my skin and starts to leave messy kisses in a path down to my core, tasting the sweat on my skin. Pants of excitement force themselves past my lips, my eyes following him as he makes his way down to my core, where he lifts his eyes to meet mine. Maintaining that gaze, the Judge then kitten licks my clit, holding my hips down as they threaten to buck into his face, my thighs trying to close around his head. Relishing in the small sounds of pleasure coming from me, he begins yet another torturous assault on me, his skilled tongue swirling through my folds lasciviously. He sucks on my clit, chuckling as I squeak at the sensation, pleasure rolling through me like wildfire now, burning my every nerve. 

Pulling off my clit, Dredd then proceeds to press his tongue against my slit, slowly working his way inside, the slick muscle drawing yet another moan from me as it strokes past my sensitive nerves. Whimpering, I grip the sheets tightly, every muscle in my body tensing up as I get closer and closer to my release, my body tight and ready to unravel at a moment's notice. Unfortunately for me, Dredd seems to Joyce this and pulls away again, keeping eye contact as he slowly licks his lips, dragging his tongue over his slick-covered skin. 

Swiftly, he stands up again, leaving me naked on the bed as he quickly tears his shirt from his body, the undershirt following mere seconds later. Grappling with his boots, the Street Judge throws them to the side along with his trousers and socks, leaving him in just his underwear, where a very impressive bulge has formed. His body is beautiful, sculpted like a statue, every muscle rippling wonderfully as he flexes and moves, scars criss-crossing his skin in parts. I don't get much time to admire him, however, as he swiftly pulls his underwear from him, exposing his huge, leaning cock to me. I gulp at the sight of him, taking in the thick length and the veins running up to the tip, which is red and leaking, his balls drawn up tight behind it, showing how riled up he is. 

Even as I think this, Dredd starts to fist himself, bucking into his hand as he drags it over the lengthy cock, his face becoming one of pleasure and bliss rather than the seriousness I'm used to. Precum leaks from the slit, slicking up the length itself as he pleasures himself, lidded eyes fixed on me. Spitting into his palm, the Judge lubes himself up a little more before he climbs back onto the bed with me, my heart pounding at the thought of having that massive member stretching me out.  

Positioning himself between my legs, Dredd looks up at me, eyes questioning. I nod, bucking my hips into his to encourage him. 

Sliding himself through my folds, I groan as I feel his cock gather my slick on its heated expanse, my arms flying up to grip onto his back as he grasps my hips, holding me against him. He groans lowly, before he carefully lines himself up with me, starting to slowly push himself in. 

The Judge goes slow, making me feel every single inch of his large cock, every vein rubbing against me in delicious ways, pleasure flooding through me like a tidal wave. I can't control the curses and moans falling from my lips now, my voice increasing in volume as I feel him fully seat himself inside me, his pelvis pressed up against me. We stay like that for a few minutes, his cock resting inside me, every muscle in his body tensed as he fights the urge to pound into me, his face creased in immense pleasure, as I'm sure mine is.

After a moment, he moves, and immediately I know neither of us is going to last long. 

At first, he tries to keep a slow, languid pace, dragging his cock out of me, only to deliberately push it right back in again, making me bask in the pleasure he's supplying to me, my pussy clenching tightly around him with every move. Eventually, however, his self-control starts to slip and he begins to pound me into the mattress, his hips snapping into mine with great power. Moans and cries of ecstasy leave me as his cock pushes into me, nailing my sweet spot every time, my own control fading as I feel myself start to give in to the mindless pleasure. 

"Ah...Dredd…need to cum…" I groan out, meeting his thrusts to emphasize my point, squeezing my walls around him. 

"Do it...do it (Y/n." He orders me, biting his lips as he feels me contract around him. 

Instantly, the knot in my stomach explodes in a storm of pleasure, a scream of euphoria ripping itself from my throat as I tense up, white-hot need flooding me. My vision blacks out for a second, the breath leaving me as my pleasure starts to subside, allowing me just enough respite to feel Dredd finishing inside me, ropes of cum filling me as he lets out an animalistic roar. 

He bucks a few more times to help himself through, emptying himself completely before pulling out with a breathless groan. I whimper at the sensation, feeling boneless beneath him as he quickly cleans us up with a shirt off of the floor. Having done that, he looks down at me, seemingly considering something. I'm afraid he's going to up and leave me, but my fears are unfulfilled as climbs back onto the bed, pulling me carefully into his chest. 

I go willingly, smiling as he holds me close, smoothing his hands over my bare body, my own resting around his neck and on his chest, breathing in his familiar smell. It comforts me, and I soon feel my fatigue starting to take over. 

"You are on medication, aren't you?" Dredd suddenly asks, referring to the contraceptive most women take. 

"Yeah, I am." I reassure him, burying my face into his chest.

"Just making sure." He hums, tightening his grip around me with a chuckle. 

My eyelids soon droop, my conscious starting to fade with Dredd's calming presence, eventually dropping off to sleep.