Impractical Jokers: [Joker]xReader Collection

Murr x Reader - Just This Once

[SMUT WARNING! DARK!MURR AND KNIFEPLAY!]

Shaking with anticipation as the cool metal of the blade presses against your neck, you exhale weakly and stare up at him with eyes heavy with both terror and arousal. Murr is so confusing when it comes to sex for you have every right to be terrified yet how he makes you feel is fairly comparable to the high of a drug. So good, so intense, everything you've ever needed; rough and unloving but calculating and careful. Such a contrast that it has your knees knocking.

Dark eyes trail down your naked body (the knife having aided greatly in undressing you) and your own close as he presses the point of the blade lightly against your pulse point. Tongue clicks, neck twitches and then his lips are so close to yours that you consider pleading to be kissed by him.

James takes his time, watches as you arch up the slightest bit to press against his still-clad body.

"You're a glutton for punishment aren't you, sweetie?" he coos, the movement of his mouth brushing your own as you whimper. The man takes pity on you, presses a tiny kiss to your mouth... before descending into a maddening pace that has you gasping for breath. Tongue shovels into your mouth and the taste of him, one that should be revolting considering the things he's done and the people he's killed, stains your senses raw.

Kisses halt, lips trail and he begins to bite hard at your neck. Yelps escape you, stunned yet expectant as he leaves raging marks and presses the face of the knife into your side; you lurch away from the cold, body brushing his without his consent. Murr straddles your thighs, stands on his knees above you and he looks so intimidating you almost wish he'd just kill you.

"P–Please, James– I need you."

The plea has him smirking, lips curving attractively as he slides smooth metal down your stomach and watches your lips tremble with silent moans. The image of you begging for him, telling him how amazing he is... it feeds his narcissism like air feeds his need to breathe. Metal circles your nipple very suddenly and this time you can't stifle the moan that is torn from your throat. The man grins, pleased.

"Need me? [Y/N], is that true? You know I don't like lies," Murr whispers, voice teetering between hot and cold as you await his venomous touch. "It'd be a lot better for you if you didn't try to appease me with bullshit."

"I– I mean it, please." You're ashamed with your begging but he doesn't appear to be averted to it. Instead, he sighs outwardly, as if you're a burden, before gliding the tip of the knife down your stomach and watching as your eyes flutter shut and a shaky breath passes your lips. It's fascinating, how subdued he has you in the wake of his ability to destroy the life you've worked so hard to build and it doesn't go unnoticed as you lay your life completely in his hands; it's not his plan to kill you for he has far too much fun with you... but the option being there makes it even better, gives him thrills that can't be explained to anybody who doesn't experience them first-hand.

Head leans down and his tongue pokes at your navel, testing you, watching as you shiver under him before he grows bored of the lack of movement and trails downwards to your groin. There, he presses an assortment of surprisingly soft kisses before his tongue slides over your wet folds. Murr purrs, a mock-surprised 'ooh' reaching your ears.

"So wet, [Y/N]! Something tells me you like being under the knife."

Puns. Puns at a time like this, and had it been anybody else you would have groaned and been turned off completely - but the way he pushes his face into you and how his tongue begins to move lightning fast, making you shake and shudder and moan, makes up for it. Your hands cling at bedsheets for you don't dare touch him without his say-so; you've been conditioned with both fear and reward that you know what the man likes, know when to lay still and take it and when to prove you're worth his time. Whether to fuck like your life depends on it, or simply let him go about it like it's business.