Tw for drugging and noncon so if you are uncomfortable with that please just delete this no hard feelings
Franco calling us a "Junkie Whore" has me craving some intox stuff so what do you think about Franco (pre Markoff or after whatever you want) finding the reader too high to move and playing around with their limp body? Feel like he would just grope and kiss us but if you want to go whole hog then go for it. Love youuu byeeee
OKAY OKAY LET ME SEE WHAT I CAN DO I'VE GOT A FEW REQUESTS I'M SO EXCITED 🗣️🗣️ but anyways
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TW: !! NONCON + not quite but almost implications of drugging? !! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON'T READ THIS IF YOU'RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT xoxo
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You'd been drinking at a bar; higher than a kite was an understatement of your current situation. The walls were spinning the more you looked at them. The deep purples swirling around to a pool in the middle as you lay flaccid against a dark red leather couch? Shit you didn't even know where you were anymore. You'd try to get up and stumble down a hallway dragging your way too heavy frame against the wall. The more you think about it; the more you regret being in this situation; the more you regret going out to that shady bar alone anything could happen to you. You think someone put something in your drink. You didn't know.
Heavy breathes exited your parted lips with a uncomfortable amount of force. You couldn't stand so you fall through a cracked open door face first into dark muddy boards. They were filthy. The room was occupied you figured that much when you fell. Your head hurts when heard the loud Italianish over the top classic mafia style voice booming through your ears.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?"
Angry? Shit you couldn't tell it sounded so funny. Footsteps slam their way right Infront of your face laid out drooling into the wood. You can barely make out the pair of dress shoes? Blurry. Too blurry.
"well shit this broad is wandering around high outta er wits... Fuckin' junkie Whore"
Suddenly a hand grabbed your face hard squeezing your cheeks tight, you make a stupid face from it; the kind you make when your grandma squeezes your face to hard. you can barely make out the set of droopy blues that locked with yours. Well sorta you looked at them and then at the spinning room walls again. Spit dripped out of your lips onto the floor.. embarrassing.
"Oh shit toots' you gotta pretty mug.. pretty body. Gorgeous!"
He exclaimed that Italianish accent coating his words heavy as he spoke. Next thing you knew you were on a bed.. the sheets were soft, like silk. The ceiling was a dark red like wine. Pretty. He was ontop of you, his knees made the bed dip beside your hips but soft lips met your skin when he slide down lifting up your shirt kissing along your hip bone. Left hand snakes up your body finding your sensitive bits and toying with them. Involuntarily you whimper which makes him smirk against your hip.
You feel it in the way his lips curve up.
"ooh filthy slut.. you like this don't you.. all helpless your pretty lips can't do anything but whimper.."
His voice carried a desperation you'd only heard a couple of times in men. He became more and more relentless with his fingers tugging at your nipples and rolling them between his forefinger and thumb.
You couldn't do anything but make noise he was right. You regretted this a little less or maybe a little more you didn't know you couldn't even form a proper thought. His lips kept going up and hands down and all over you.
Long night? Oh yeah. You got to walk away from it. Be grateful.
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AGAGAHA I HOPE THIS WAS WHAT YOU WANTED I'VE NEVER WRITTEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS BEFORE SO I'M NERVOUS 💔
