#judge turpin x reader

[muiitoloko]

Love?

Summary: Is there love in your marriage? You would say no, not when your husband is the cruel Judge Turpin. But in some moments, no matter how brief, you think there is love.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, motion sickness, pregnant sex, possessive.

Author's Notes: In this particular scene, I decided to give Judge Turpin a break from his usual villainy and lighten him up a bit. After all, even evil characters deserve a day off for being too cruel, right? Let's sprinkle some love into the mix! But not so much of course, he is Judge Turpin after all.

First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth and Seventh part here.

The dim light of the bedroom cast shadows across the opulent furnishings as you shifted uncomfortably in bed, your swollen belly aching with the weight of your unborn child. Turpin lay beside you, his breathing steady and deep, oblivious to the discomfort plaguing you. You knew better than to disturb his rest unless absolutely necessary; the consequences of such an action would be severe.

It was late, far past the hour when you should have been sleeping, but your little one seemed determined to make their presence known. You couldn't help but marvel at their strength, even as their movements landed painful blows to your ribs.

But you couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for the little one growing inside you. Despite the hardships and uncertainties that lay ahead, you were determined to protect them, to shield them from the darkness that surrounded you both.

You stroked your belly gently, whispering soothing words to your unborn baby, urging them to calm down so you could get some much-needed rest, but despite your efforts, the kicks continued as if the little one was determined to make their presence known.

"Shh, my little one," you murmured, your voice a gentle murmur in the quiet of the room. "It's time to sleep now. Mommy needs her rest."

But still, the baby persisted, their movements causing you discomfort as you tried in vain to settle them. Frustration welled up within you, mingled with a sense of helplessness as you struggled to ease their restlessness.

Suddenly, you hesitated, glancing at your husband's hand resting on the pillow beside you. Turpin lay there, his breathing steady and deep, seemingly unaware of the turmoil raging within you and the unborn child. But something in his expression, the slight twitch of his lips, betrayed the facade of sleep.

With a hesitant breath, you reached out, gently taking his hand in yours and placing it on your swollen belly. "This is daddy's hand, little one," you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur. "Can you feel it? Daddy's here with us."

Turpin's eyes fluttered open, one eye half-closed as he feigned sleep, but a small smile played at the corners of his lips. He watched you, his gaze softened by the tenderness of the moment, a flicker of something resembling warmth in his otherwise stern countenance.

"Be quiet now," he murmured, his voice hoarse with sleep, yet filled with a surprising tenderness. "It's time to rest, both of you."

To your surprise, the unborn baby seemed to respond to Turpin's voice, their movements gradually subsiding until all was calm once more. Turpin kept his hand on your belly, his touch gentle yet possessive, as if silently claiming his place as father to the child growing within you.

You smiled, a sense of peace washing over you as you nestled closer to Turpin, his presence a comforting anchor in the darkness of the night. And as sleep finally claimed you, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope for the future, a future where perhaps, just perhaps, there was room for love and redemption amidst the shadows of the past.

As the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, you awoke with a start, the remnants of your troubled dreams fading into the recesses of your mind. But as you attempted to push yourself up from the bed, a wave of nausea washed over you, forcing you back down with a groan.

Turpin, still clad in his judicial robes, glanced over at you briefly before turning his attention back to the task at hand. "I trust you'll be able to manage on your own this morning," he remarked, his tone devoid of any warmth or concern.

You nodded weakly, the bitter taste of disappointment lingering on your tongue. "Of course, Richard," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be fine."

With a dismissive nod, Turpin made his way towards the door, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the room. You watched him go, a sense of resentment bubbling up within you as he left you alone to contend with your illness.

But just as he reached the threshold, Turpin paused, his hand lingering on the doorknob as he turned to face you once more. "The maids have been instructed to take care of you," he stated matter-of-factly, his expression unreadable. "They will bring you some herbs to ease your nausea."

For a moment, hope flickered within you, the prospect of relief from your discomfort a welcome respite amidst the turmoil of your thoughts. "Thank you, Richard," you murmured, your voice tinged with gratitude.

But as Turpin met your gaze, his eyes cold and calculating, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease. "Don't mistake this for kindness, my dear," he replied, his tone laced with thinly veiled contempt. "It's simply a matter of practicality. We can't have you falling ill at such a crucial time."

With that, he swept out of the room, leaving you alone once more with your thoughts and the ever-present ache in your heart. As the maids bustled about, attending to your needs, you couldn't help but wonder why fate had chosen to bind you to such a ruthless and cruel man.

"Why did you have to marry such a man?" you whispered to yourself, your voice barely a breath in the silence of the room. "What did you do to deserve this?"

But as the maids offered you a comforting smile and a steaming cup of herbal tea, you pushed aside your doubts and fears, determined to endure whatever hardships lay ahead. For the sake of your family, you would weather this storm, clinging to the faint hope that someday, somehow, things would be different.

And as you sipped the tea, the warmth spreading through you like a comforting embrace, you allowed yourself to believe, if only for a moment, that perhaps there was still some goodness left in the world. Even if it resided in the smallest of gestures, like a cup of tea offered in a time of need.

As you finished your morning preparations and descended the grand staircase, the maids scurried about, attending to their tasks with practiced efficiency. You greeted them with a polite nod, acknowledging their presence with a small smile before turning your attention to your duties.

But just as you were about to make your way towards the kitchen, one of the maids approached you, her expression hesitant yet determined. "Excuse me, madam," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Professor has arrived. He's waiting for you in the study."

You blinked in surprise at the mention of the Professor, a faint glimmer of hope shining within you at the prospect of your classes resuming. Despite Turpin's initial reluctance, he eventually relented, agreeing to allow his classes to resume with the teacher he had hired to teach him how to read and write.

You were a humble peasant, plucked from obscurity by Judge Turpin himself, who had promised to help your family financially in exchange for your hand in marriage. Desperate to provide for your loved ones, you had accepted his offer without hesitation, willing to do whatever it took to secure a better future for them.

But as time passed, you began to realize the true nature of the man you had married—a cruel and insensitive tyrant who saw you as nothing more than a pawn in his quest for power and dominance. You couldn't understand why he had chosen you in the first place; you were not from high society, you had no dowry for marriage, and you lacked the education and refinement expected of a judge's wife.

Yet, despite your shortcomings, Turpin had seen fit to provide for you, hiring a Professor to teach you the skills you so desperately lacked. At first, you had viewed his gesture as a loving and kind one, a sign of his devotion to you.

But when Turpin had grunted in disdain at the thought of having a "stupid, illiterate wife" to educate his offspring, the illusion had shattered, leaving you feeling even more isolated and alone in your own home.

Pushing aside your thoughts, you nodded to the maid, a sense of determination rising within you. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice tinged with gratitude. "Please inform the Professor that I'll be with him shortly."

With that, you made your way towards the study, your heart pounding with anticipation as you prepared to resume your lessons. As you entered the room, the young professor rose from his seat, a warm smile lighting up his face at the sight of you.

"Good morning, madam," he greeted, his voice gentle and kind. "I trust you're ready to continue our studies?"

You returned his smile, taking a seat at the table as he began to unpack his materials. "Yes, Professor," you replied, your voice filled with determination. "I'm eager to learn."

And so, as the young professor began to teach you the ins and outs of reading and writing, you dove into the classes, determined to make the most of this opportunity. With every minute that passed, you made steady progress, and your confidence grew as you learned to decipher the letters and words in front of you.

As the Professor paused in his lesson, noticing the subtle movements of your belly, he couldn't help but inquire about your pregnancy. His curiosity was evident in his eyes as he glanced at your swollen belly, a mixture of awe and intrigue coloring his expression.

"Forgive me for asking, madam," he began hesitantly, "but I couldn't help but notice... Are you expecting?"

You nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on your belly. "Well, that's a little obvious, but yes," you replied softly, your voice filled with a mixture of pride and anticipation. "I'm carrying Judge Turpin's child."

The Professor's eyes widened in surprise, his gaze shifting between you and your belly as if trying to comprehend the reality of the situation. "Congratulations," he murmured, his tone filled with genuine warmth. "That's truly wonderful news."

As he spoke, the young professor hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but... May I... touch your belly? Feel the baby?"

You hesitated for a moment, taken aback by his request, but ultimately, you saw no harm in it. With a nod, you allowed the Professor to place his hand on your belly, guiding his touch to where you felt the baby's kicks most strongly.

At first, the Professor's touch was tentative, his fingers grazing lightly over your swollen belly as if afraid to disturb the delicate balance within. But as he felt the gentle movements of the baby beneath his hand, a sense of wonder filled his expression, his eyes widening with awe.

"It's... incredible," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've never felt anything like it before."

You smiled, a sense of warmth spreading through you at the Professor's genuine awe and wonder. "It truly is," you agreed softly, your hand resting atop his as you felt the baby squirming beneath your skin.

But just as the moment stretched on, the door to the study swung open with a loud creak, and Judge Turpin entered, his expression darkening as he took in the scene before him. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the Professor, his voice dripping with thinly veiled anger.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, his baritone voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Why is this man touching what belongs to me?"

The Professor recoiled, his hand pulling away from your belly as if burned by Turpin's words. He stumbled to his feet, his eyes wide with fear as he backed away from the imposing figure of the judge.

"I-I-I'm sorry, Your Honor," he stammered, his voice trembling with fear. "I-I didn't mean any harm, I swear."

Turpin's gaze remained fixed on the younger man, his expression unreadable as he assessed the situation before him. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he gestured towards the door, his tone cold and commanding.

"Leave," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. "The lesson is over for today."

The Professor wasted no time in obeying, practically fleeing from the room as if afraid that Turpin's wrath might fall upon him at any moment. As the door swung shut behind him, Turpin turned his attention back to you, his eyes dark with anger.

"How dare you allow another man to touch you in such a familiar manner?" he growled, his voice low and menacing. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

You swallowed hard, the weight of Turpin's anger pressing down on you like a leaden weight. "I-I'm sorry, Richard," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Your husband approached you with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. His fury is palpable, his eyes blazing with an unsettling mix of anger and suspicion.

"Cheating on me, are you?" He's voice is low and menacing, his baritone rumbling with barely contained rage as he grabs the arms of the chair you're still seated in, keeping you trapped there.

You shake your head frantically, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggle to find the right words to appease him. "N-no, Richard," you stammer, your voice trembling with fear. "I would never... I swear, I would never betray you."

But Turpin pays no heed to your protestations, his grip on the chair tightening as he leans in closer, his hooked nose almost touching yours. "Don't lie to me," he hisses, his breath hot against your skin. "I know what I saw."

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak as Turpin's anger consumes him. "Please, Richard," you plead, tears welling up in your eyes. "I would never do anything to hurt you."

But Turpin's fury only seems to escalate, his grip on the chair tightening painfully as he pulls you out of it with a rough tug, causing you to cry out in pain. Ignoring your protests, he orders you to keep your hands on the wall and open your legs, his voice commanding and authoritative.

Trembling with fear, you obey his instructions, your hands shaking as you press them against the cold surface of the wall. Turpin steps closer, his gaze dark and predatory as he looms over you, his expression unreadable.

"Open your legs," he commands, his voice low and commanding. "Let me see if you've been sullied by that wretch."

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you comply, your heart hammering in your chest as Turpin pulls up your dress, exposing your trembling form to his scrutiny. His hand snakes inside your panties, his touch rough and invasive as he feels your skin, searching for any sign of betrayal.

But as his fingers probe your most intimate places, he finds nothing but dryness, a fact that seems to please him immensely. "So, the Professor didn't do anything for you," he murmurs, a twisted smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Good."

You bite back a cry of pain as Turpin lets go of your dress and grips your hair tightly, his fingers digging into your scalp with blunt force. “Remember who you belong to,” he growls, his voice full of possessiveness. "You are mine, and mine alone."

He lets go of your hair, ordering you to keep your dress up and you obediently do so, feeling a mix of fear and anticipation running through you. His body shakes with apprehension as Turpin unbuttons his own pants, his movements deliberate and controlled. He moves your panties to the side, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he slowly penetrates you.

You gasp as he enters you, the sensation familiar but painful. Despite being accustomed to his size, Turpin's girth still stretches you to the limit, causing you to wince as he pushes himself completely inside you. His hand rests on your belly, feeling the kicks of his unborn child beneath his palm.

"Quiet now," Turpin grunts, his voice low and commanding as he addresses the baby. "Daddy is teaching mommy a lesson."

His words send a thrill of fear and excitement through you, your body responding to his authoritative tone. Turpin's voice works wonders in your ear, its low, almost husky quality sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

"You belong to me," he murmurs against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Remember that."

You nod frantically, your mind clouded with desire as Turpin's words wash over you. Despite the pain and discomfort, there's a part of you that revels in the intensity of the moment, the forbidden thrill of submitting to Turpin's desires.

As he moves inside you, with deliberate movements, you cling to him desperately, your nails digging into his arm on your stomach as you seek release. Turpin’s grip tightens on your hips, his thrusts getting harder and harder as he brings you both to the edge of pleasure.

"Say my name," he commands, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Say it."

"Richard," you gasp, the word falling from your lips like a prayer as ecstasy washes over you, consuming you completely.

Turpin smiles contentedly against your ear, his grip on your hips never faltering as he continues to move within you. "That's it, my dear," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You're mine."

And as you surrender yourself to him completely, lost in the throes of passion, you can't help but wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, there's a twisted kind of love hidden amidst the darkness of your shared desires

You reach your climax, a wave of pleasure washing over you, sending you spiraling into ecstasy. You moan Turpin’s name, your body shaking with the intensity of your release. Your Husband follows soon after, your own climax echoing his as he holds your belly, the weight of your child a constant reminder of the life growing inside you.

As you both catch your breath, Turpin carefully guides you to the chair, his touch surprisingly gentle as he helps you settle into a comfortable position. You hesitate before questioning why he came home early, sensing a strange shift in his demeanor.

"Richard, why are you home so early?" you ask, your voice tentative as you search his face for any sign of explanation.

Turpin seems to hesitate for a moment, his gaze flickering away from yours as if avoiding your scrutiny. "It doesn't matter," he replies curtly, his tone clipped and dismissive.

The silence stretches between you, fraught with unspoken tension as you struggle to make sense of Turpin's sudden change in behavior. He seems different somehow, his usually stern countenance softened by a hint of shyness you've never seen before.

But you dare not speak such thoughts aloud, fearing Turpin's wrath if you were to question him further. Instead, you nod meekly, apologizing once again for allowing the Professor to touch your belly.

And Turpin's expression turns stoic again as he settles behind his desk, eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "What was the professor teaching you today?" he questions, his voice rough and demanding.

You push the book that was on the table towards him, explaining that you were practicing reading. Your husband nods once, telling you to go ahead and read it out loud, his tone leaving no room for argument.

But you hesitate, feeling a wave of nervousness wash over you as you try to focus on the words in front of you. And when you stumble across a particularly difficult passage, Turpin's patience runs out and he growls in frustration, urging you to read faster.

You obey, stumbling over the words as you struggle to make sense of them. And he watches you intently, his gaze unwavering as he admires your beauty and obedience.

Lost in thought, Turpin's gaze lingers on you, his mind drifting back to the first time he saw you, a mere peasant girl from a humble village. It was a chance encounter, the carriage wheel of his lavish carriage breaking down as he passed through your village.

And as he waited impatiently for his servants to fix the wheel, he caught sight of you, surrounded by your sisters, laughing and chatting as you made your way to the nearby lake to wash clothes. Even in your simple attire, you exuded a natural beauty and grace that captivated Turpin from the moment he laid eyes on you.

He watched you from afar, his heart stirring with emotions he couldn't quite comprehend. In that moment, amidst the chaos of the broken carriage and the bustling village, Turpin felt something he hadn't experienced in years—a spark of genuine affection and longing.

And now, as he watches you struggle with your reading lesson, the memory of that fateful day comes rushing back to him, filling him with a sense of nostalgia and longing. He scratches his beard absentmindedly, lost in thought as he considers the depth of his feelings for you.

"Richard?" your voice interrupts his reverie, pulling him back to the present moment. "Is everything all right?"

Turpin blinks, his gaze refocusing on you as he offers a tight-lipped smile. "Yes, everything is fine," he assures you, though his tone lacks its usual conviction. "I was merely lost in thought."

You nod, though a flicker of concern crosses your features. "If there's anything on your mind, Richard, you can always talk to me," you offer softly, your eyes searching his for any sign of vulnerability.

For a moment, he hesitates, his usual stoicism faltering as he considers confiding in you. But then, with a shake of his head, he pushes aside his doubts and fears, burying them beneath a mask of composure.

"There's nothing to discuss," he replies, his tone firm and authoritative. "Now, let us continue with your lesson. We have much ground to cover."

As you continue reading, the words flowing effortlessly from your lips, Turpin's eyes drift shut, enveloped in the soothing cadence of your voice. He listens intently, every word resonating within him like a melody, stirring emotions he's long tried to suppress.

Despite his best efforts to maintain his composure, Turpin can't shake the feeling of longing that grips him whenever he's near you. It's a sensation he can't quite understand—a mixture of desire, obsession, and perhaps, dare he admit it, love.

But love is a dangerous territory for a man like Judge Turpin, a man hardened by years of cruelty and betrayal. He knows the pain of vulnerability all too well, having been burned by it in the past. And so, he guards his heart fiercely, unwilling to let anyone get too close.

Yet, despite his resolve, he can't deny the pull you have on him, the way you seem to effortlessly chip away at the walls he's built around himself. Your kindness, your innocence—it's both infuriating and intoxicating, a potent combination that leaves he feeling more conflicted than ever.

As you stumble over a word, Turpin's eyes snap open, his keen gaze fixing on you with intensity. "That's not quite right," he interjects. "It's pronounced 'effervescent,' not 'efferversent.'"

You smile up at him, that same bright smile that captured his heart from the moment he first laid eyes on you, and something within Turpin stirs.

"Thank you, Richard," you say, your voice soft and earnest. "I couldn't do this without you."

Turpin's chest tightens at your words, a pang of guilt gnawing at him from within. He knows he should push you away, keep you at arm's length to protect himself from the vulnerability he so fears. But in that moment, all he wants is to pull you close, to hold you in his arms and never let you go.

Yet, he knows he can't. Not after what happened with Johanna—not after she ran away with that wretched sailor, leaving Turpin alone and betrayed. The memory of her betrayal still haunts him, a constant reminder of the dangers of trusting others.

So, he tightens his grip on the chair, steeling himself against the torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He forces himself to focus on the task at hand, to bury his feelings beneath a mask of indifference.

But as you continue reading, your voice a soothing balm to his troubled soul, Turpin can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for redemption. If perhaps, in the warmth of your presence, he can find the courage to let go of the past and embrace the possibility of a brighter future.

But for now, he pushes those thoughts aside, choosing instead to lose himself in the comfort of your company, if only for a fleeting moment. And as you smile up at him, your eyes filled with trust and affection, Turpin allows himself to believe, if only for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, there's hope for him yet.

[myveryownfanfiction]

Rickmas day 1

18+ minors and those without age in bio dni

tags: @illiana-mystery, @fangsandroses, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

prompt: chimney soot

AN: thank u @deepperplexity for coming up with the name Richard for judge Turpin! And letting me use it both last year and this year.

warnings: swearing

I stood against the wall watching the beedle attempt to clean the chimney floo. Richard stood next to me, eyebrow raised at the short man’s behind.

“why did we do this again?” I whispered to him as the beedle swore in pain.

“It’s free.” Richard whispered back. “Last time I take him up on his dumbass ideas simply because it’s free.” I nodded in agreement as the beedle emerged, covered in soot and smiling.

“it is clean my lord.” He said with a small bow, soot flitting down off his face.

“for your sake I should hope so.” Richard said, mouth curling into a sneer at the soot that was now covering our carpet. “Get out of here. And be careful where you find yourself. I see one speck of soot in my house and you’ll find yourself in the poor house.” The beedle nodded slowly, eyes wide and taking care where he deposited soot. Richard turned to me with a sign as the beedle left the room. He didn’t speak until the door had slammed shut. “Do we trust it?” I shrugged.

“he’s your assistant.” I said. “How much do you trust him?” Richard nodded before leaning over to kiss me.

“one chance. And then we call a chimney sweep.” He confirmed. I nodded and we went about our day as usual. That night, Richard and I were sitting in front of the fireplace, debating on lighting the fire.

“I’m just saying we should cover everything in sheets or something. Just in case.” I said as Richard leaned down to inspect the chimney. He gave me a look and I shrugged. “You may trust the beedle but I don’t.” I gave him a small smile as he sighed.

“you’re right.” He conceded. “Or better yet, let’s just get a chimney sweep in tomorrow to do the job properly.” I nodded and walked over to hug him.

“I think that’s the smartest thing you have said all day.” I teased as Richard went to call for a chimney sweep.

[snowblossomreads]

Attention

Summary: In where [Y/n] is feeling a bit needy due to her husband paying his work more attention than her.

Pairing: Judge Turpin x FemReader

Tag(s)/Warning(s): Cockwarming, Penetrative Sex, Begging, Pet Names, some Dom/Sub vibes (it's Turpin of course)

Word Count: 4.1K

A/N: HAHAH Thought you've seen the last of me didn't you?? This plot showed up at my door step and beat me up thanks to @slytherinsight221 💖💖💖. Turpin seems like the type to enjoy some cockwarming when doing work so here we are. Please enjoy and feel free to scream at me how it made u feel : )

Enjoy!

MDNI!

The great Judge Turpin of London was a very busy man. From the many trials he had to preside over, to the equally as many death sentences he had to dole out.

A very busy man indeed.

And a very cold man at that as all seemed to want to avoid him lest they face his wrath and be sentenced to hang on the gallows just like the many poor souls before them.

Yet there was one who saw beyond this. One who got to see the occasional gentleness in those eyes that seemed to always be stormy. One who got to listen to the soft roll of thunder that was his voice as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear before they retired to bed.

The Lady [Y/n] Turpin.

The judge's young wife who at first had been as afraid of the man as so many others when the betrothal to him was offered. Though offered was not really the correct word as it made it sound like she had a choice in it.

No, it was more of a transaction, her hand in marriage and in return her family would be spared poverty and shame after it was found that [Y/n]'s father had been running a scheme and using the family's business as a cover-up to sell counterfeit goods to the members of London's high society.

A done deal the moment it was offered and she was married off to the man and whisked to his home merely weeks after the arrangement.

Frightened she had been of him at first, scared and nervous from all the terrible things she had heard whispered about him.

‘A cruel man that one. Who puts children to death for petty things like taking a piece of bread?’

‘Mhmm and did you hear about his ward?’

‘No, what about her?’

‘Heard she run off with some poor bloke from the docks. When the authorities found both of them and brought them back, he sent the poor lad to the gallows and the ward to live at some convent!’

Learning that he had sent his former ward’s lover to a penal camp and her to a convent just for running away had her stomach in knots.

And once they were legally wed, the fear in her seemed to grow as all her things were loaded up into a carriage that same day and brought to his- their home.

To say she was terrified was an understatement as she knew that as his wife, it was her duty to be subordinate to him. That night and every night from thereafter. But especially on the night of their marriage.

Yet when it was time to consummate the union she had been taken aback that he did not force himself on her. No the very opposite, instead a chaste kiss was placed on her hesitant lips, and in that deep rumbling voice of his he had stated that,

‘Not until you are ready shall I know all of you and you all of me. I am not ignorant of my reputation and I will not let them stain our marriage bed.’

That night they went to bed, with her still untouched yet her heart beating wildly as she lay awake. He would not touch her until she was ready. Something about what he said made her heart beat a little faster and not because she was frightened.

And he kept true to his word. Only chaste kisses on her forehead, her lips, or cheek, or the back of her hand whenever he felt like it.

It was not a wonder that it only took a matter of weeks before she submitted herself to him with the patience and gentleness he showed her. And dear lord she asked herself almost every day afterward why she had hesitated.

Even if he had been her first, she knew that no other man could measure up to the pleasure that he had brought her over and over. He made her make noises that she didn't think she could.

Touched her deeper than her fingers ever could when she was curious at night in her own bed when she was in her parent's home.

And his gravely baritone voice next to her ear with his groans and moans as he filled her both with his cock and seed made her wonder how she had lived without him for so long.

Night after night they would make love when he wasn't tired from the draining duties of his profession. Slow, fast, hard, soft, he took her many ways yet all of them were as pleasurable as the time before.

She had even confessed her love to him when they were in the throes of passion and she had never been so sore the day after. Pretty bruises littered her hips where he had held her tightly and her cunt ached from the pounding it had endured.

From that day on she allowed herself to be spoiled by him. To be loved by him and to love on him whenever they could and whenever he had time.

But again, time was what he had so little of these days due to the increase in cases the court was hearing. And along with that came the smidgen of neglect [Y/n] felt when all they seemed to have time to do was give each other morning kisses and good night kisses.

He wasn't the type of man to pass up pleasure now, but there hardly seemed to be time for it now with how quickly he would fall asleep the moment he laid his head down on his pillow.

How dare that man withhold the pleasure of their marriage bed from her though! It was an irrational thought and it wasn't at all his fault with how busy he was but she was needy and she needed him.

And that is how she found herself standing on the other side of the library which was also his office in their home with little more than a chemise that she had slept in. It was a Saturday morning and while he didn't need to go into court it seemed that he had brought his work home. 

Again.

But this time she would have none of it she thought as she knocked on the mahogany door. Once he saw her wearing almost nothing and wandering the house for all to see, she was sure he would teach her one of his 'famous' lessons.

"I thought I instructed that I be left alone?"

His harsh words filled the air as [Y/n] opened the door to find him sitting at his desk, papers scattered about the tabletop. Though when he looked up to see who it was, the harsh lines on his face relaxed when he realized it was her. Yet when his eyes raked over her form, she could see him become tense again as he eyed her with a sharp inhale.

"Ah, but I see it is my sweet little wife who has come to visit," he hummed, a twinkle coming alive in his eyes as [Y/n] approached his desk, going around the corner to stand by him.

"Indeed, and I hope you would make an exception for my interruption," she replied back to him before leaning down to press a kiss against his cheek.

One that was a bit prickly. Though she did love how it tickled against her face when they were near and she couldn't help but giggle at the feeling of the scratchiness.

"Always my dear, you are quite more interesting to look at than all these cases," he spoke while motioning his hand towards all the papers splayed about, "and it puts me at ease knowing you are safe and where you belong."

That had her raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, and where is it that I belong?" [Y/n] teased, a little simper playing on her face as she watched his expression morph into something devious.

There was a glint in his eyes as he looked up at her, his thick fingers wrapping around her wrist and pulling her closer to him. His other hand going to stroke her side causing a shiver to run up her spine as he scooted away from his desk just enough that [Y/n] wormed her way between those strong thighs of his. Thighs she quite enjoyed being able to sit on whenever she had the chance.

"Where else do you think you belong other than by my side," he purred, fingers brushing against her, causing her dress to hitch up a little.

"There are quite a few other places I think I belong, sir," she answered back, a coy look on her face as her body reacted positively to his touch as goosebumps danced across her skin. "Yet I fear that you have not had enough time recently to indulge in such activities."

This had him smirking as his hand left her wrist and joined the other in holding her waist, turning her around to face the desk before pulling her down to sit on his lap.

Even with the layer of clothing she wore she could still feel the excitement growing in his trousers and she couldn't help the moan that left her lips as she pushed herself back on him.

"Now if I did not know better, I would ask where my sweet innocent wife has gone," he said, gripping her waist a little harder to keep her from moving around as he felt himself grow more excited. "Yet it seems we aren't so innocent."

Of course she wasn't, not with him as her husband. She had lost her innocence to him both physically and in thinking long ago and she would gladly let him take it again but that was beside the point. 

The point was she needed him, and preferably in the next few moments or she feared she would explode with the desire that was rampaging around in her.

"Richard please," his name left her lips in a whimper as she twisted her body slightly just to see his face. A smirk on those thin lips of his that were so kissable. Damn, this man!

"I've missed you, you haven't touched me in weeks. Each night I go to bed dreaming of you my love. Thinking of how you feel on me, in me," she confessed, the urge to bury her face against his shoulders strong but not as strong as the thrumming in her stomach that yearned for him "Please I need you my love."

Her last sentence came out as a desperate plea as she leaned back against his chest.

"Hmm, well I do consider myself to be a fair man," Richard purred, leaning up and nipping at [Y/n]'s ear lobe as his hands trailed up to squeeze her breasts causing her to whine and shudder. ”A deal then. Shall we my love?“

"Mmm yes anything, anything Richard please," [Y/n] sighed as he pinched and squeezed her pebbled nipples through her gown sending a tingle down her spine and right through her core that was burning with need for him.

"There is some work yet to be done and I cannot delay it any longer so the deal my sweet, if you can sit still in my lap until I finish I'll be yours to do with for the rest of the day and tomorrow."

That was all? Surely that couldn't be all-

"I see the wheels working in your head little one and yes that is not all," he purred in her ears. He knew her too well. "Not only will you stay still on my lap, but as punishment for interrupting my work, you shall do it while keeping me warm."

"Warm? Richard I-," her question was interrupted by her squeaking as her husband pushed her forward just a bit making room for him to undo his trousers.  

The sound of buttons popping caused her to look back, hands gripping the desk to keep her steady as she watched him free his cock from its confines.

The thick organ strained against the cloth before it was freed to lay heavy on his stomach as he pushed the waist of his trousers down just past his hips.

Ah, warm him. So that's what he wanted.

"R-Richard my love, darling, you know what you do to me," she mewled out as she felt the bottom of her dress be lifted to expose her and her hips dragged back towards her husband's lap. "I do not think I will be able to sit still if you are inside me."

"Really," he drawled huskily as he gripped his cock and began to slide the head of it against her exposed slit that had already begun to wet itself at the mere thought of her husband. 

A little moan passed through her lips as her legs automatically widened for him causing the tip of him to slip just past her folds. "You would deny your husband the pleasure he so deserves because you simply cannot sit still? Is this what you are saying to me?"

"No!" She squeaked out head shaking left to right as he began to pull her down to take her seat upon his strained arousal. "No never my love I would never deny you I just-!"

"Good, then I believe we have our deal."

No sooner had he said that did he fully pull [Y/n] down on his waiting cock that slid into her with almost no resistance.

"Richa- oh my lord!"  She cried breathlessly as he breached passed her lips that sucked him in hungrily as she sunk completely down onto his lap.

An absolute cunt stretcher* he was and she was more than happy to have it stretching her open as she took him to the hilt moaning at how full she felt with him inside of her.

Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as her fingers grasped at his thighs. Her head fell back on his shoulder as she felt him wrap one arm around her waist. His thick fingers stroked her belly lovingly causing her body to shutter and her hungry opening to squeeze at the thickness that filled her completely.

"O-oh oh Richard, my love," [Y/n] panted out as her cunt rippled around his cock that held her open as he shifted in his seat making himself more comfortable while he reached to grab one of the papers that were haphazardly sitting on his desk.

"Mmm that's it my little love, stay just like this for me," he hummed, his baritone voice thundering in her veins as he rocked teasingly against her causing her to whimper and tense at the pleasure that licked at her insides. "Such a good little wife for me. So obedient," he purred as she trembled in his arms while her body ached and begged for more. Yet he held her still on his cock, whispering sweet and lewd things to her ever so often as he looked through some case findings she presumed.

"Mmm, so very warm, and tight just as one should be for their lord husband."

"Ah, ah no moving my little love, what did I tell you about that."

"Oh did you like me touching you right there my sweet? Your little bud has always been so sensitive when you have me settled inside you."

Oh god this man, her husband, he was so filthy. The words he spoke were absolutely lust-inducing as she sat as still as possible on his lap trying to control the spasms inside her each time he uttered those words into her ear.

She was sure his lap was drenched by now as her insides clenched around him. Rapid breaths of air left her lips as she tried to calm her racing heart as he shifted again to grab another piece of paper on his desk.

This torture, this delicious torture seemed to go on forever as he went about his work ignoring her need that was dripping out of her at some point.

Sometimes he went as far as leaning over her body to write something down on a piece of parchment and causing his cock to slide deeper in between her drenched folds. Leaving her moaning and whimpering as her body demanded that it be allowed more of him.

"Oh Richard please, please," she begged softly, tears filling her eyes at the burning in her stomach that protested at the pleasure that was being withheld from it.

Trying to turn her head to at least gaze at him hoping her wet eyes would convince him to give her more, she was only met with him grabbing the sides of her jaw and gently turning her face forward.

"Eyes front sweet one," he purred, in command of her as usual, though she could hear from the husk of his voice that all of this abstaining was also affecting him as he shifted once again in his seat causing him to brush against a sensitive spot in her core. "Almost done and then I can indulge you till your heart's content. Be a patient wife for me just a little longer."

She was trying to be patient, she was. But it was impossible when her sex was impaled on him and aching to milk him of his seed and to release her own desire onto him.  But she would be patient as he asked her to be. As it was her duty as his wife to obey him in all things as their vows had stated.

So she sat. Her thoughts ebbing and flowing trying to find something else to focus on other than him inside her.

She tried to take interest in the many books that were shelved in the library, but her mind quickly wandered to the vulgar and graphic content that many of them displayed. Pictures of men and women writhing against each other in the throes of pleasure. Stories of orgies and debauchery in the middle age. The fantasies of men and women alike in many of those books

All things and more were stored on the shelves, some she had even read herself at the behest of her husband. Some he had read to her as they indulged in the pleasures that the book instructed them on.

It only made her needier, made her body softer as she relaxed into her husband's hold. Her fingers played with the large hand on her belly as an inaudible sigh left the man behind her. His member twitching in interest and leaking as he felt her velvet inside begin to flutter at the thoughts in her mind.

"Thinking of something pleasant little one?" He groaned, feeling his body slowly losing its grip on the control he had as he placed the paper he had down.

He had long ago stopped focusing on the many piles of papers on his desk, too busy being enamored by her wet heat that suckled on him. In honesty, he couldn't help that he enjoyed how she submitted to his more sadistic nature and teasing tendencies when it came to her. The control she allowed him over her was something he craved and enjoyed as in life you were either doing the controlling or being controlled and he quite preferred the former.

"Mmm you Richard, always you my love. My darling husband, my protector, my everything." Her words came out as a dreamy slur as her brain became hazy from the prolonged waves of pleasure that had not yet been allowed to reach its peak.

"My what a good and patient little wife you've been for me," he whispered, moving his hips a little and causing her to keen softly at the simulation of her insides that fully reawakened in an instant. "Keeping me warm, and thinking of me the entire time. How sweet you are. So sweet that I believe you are owed a reward. Would you like that my love?"

"Yes please sir," she begged sweetly, turning her upper body and looking at his cloudy eyes with her own lust filled eyes, "please I've been good and still for you my darling please."

A gentle smirk grew on his thin lips as he leaned down and pressed them against her own, his hands going to dig their fingers into her side causing her to whine into the kiss at the electricity that shot up her spine.

"Indeed you have been very good," he hummed, pulling away from her face, "and I shall give you your reward."

No sooner had the words left his lips, [Y/n] found her hips being guided off of his cock only for him to pull her back down on his lap with such force that her entire body tensed and a loud shout was forced past her lips as his cock slammed deep inside her.

"Yes oh Richard my love yes!" She sobbed loudly as he guided her up and down his slick shaft. 

His prick was wet with both of their arousals as the wet sounds of their flesh smacking against each other echoed around the room without resistance.

"Such a wonderful little wife I have," Turpin groaned into her ear as he lifted his hips up to meet her as she slid down his cock causing him to hit that spot deep inside her over and over. "So good for me, so obedient for me."

Her body writhe in pleasure as her mouth went slack and her upper body fell forward grabbing onto the edge of the desk as she allowed herself to be opened and explored by her husband. A guttural growl rumbled through his chest at her display and his hips stuttered only for a second before he was getting out of his seat and pressing her against his desk, his body laying on top of her as he began to piston himself inside of her.

Wails and sobs left her lips and it was music to his ears as his cock pulsed and began to leak seed into her. The feeling of having his thick body laid upon her and rewarding her sent her into a tizzy as she pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts each time.

Having him cage her in made her feel safe, and loved. Cared for, desired and it sent a rush of warmth into her belly that she couldn't stop as she began to gush around him.

"Oh Ri-Richard!" She breathlessly squeaked out as her body began to spasm uncontrollably. 

The sloshing of her cunt increased in volume as he began to pound into her faster, feeling his own release approaching as her insides squeezed him over and over until,

"Darling," he hissed out, hips stuttering as cock began to spill inside of her. Hot pulses of his seed spurted out and drowned her cunt with his release.

The warm feeling of him emptying himself into her and burying himself deep was all [Y/n] needed as she herself felt her body go absolutely limp as she released the arousal that had been building up inside of her.

Her fingers gripped the desk and her legs shook as she spilled around her husband moaning an elongated and breathless,

"Sir~." As her upper body lay smushed against the desk with the weight of the man on top of her.

It was oddly comfortable, well to her it was having him and his spend inside her while he covered her body with those strong thick limbs of his. Yet it was taken away much too soon for her liking as her husband slipped out of her with a slick noise. A little moan left her as the thick shaft stimulated her sensitive folds on its way out.

A kiss was placed on her damp neck as she lay bent over, the sound of fabric being straightened before Richard was helping her upright herself.  She couldn't help the dazed smile that was on her lips as he turned her to him. His gray locks were messy and along with his disheveled clothes there would be no guessing what had just happened between the two if any of the housekeepers were to walk in.

Yet she didn't care about that as she wrapped her arms around his shoulder and pulled him down so that their lips could meet once more and she could taste the salt on them.

No, all she could care about was the satisfaction running through her veins as he indulged her in a deep kiss, their tongues lazily dancing with each other as his arms came around her waist to hold her close.

A/N: I wrote this in like a span of two days I think which might not be a lot of some but it is for me haha! And also about the lil '*' if anyone saw that haha. Apparently cunt stretcher was a word back in the day and i was like oh yeah Turpin would use that / i'm sure it would accurate to describe him like that so I did :)

Anyways I hope that was a good time for you all please do leave words of thirst if you enjoyed it haha!

Also tagging @clowns-in-the-night as a reminder haha!

[slashingdisneypasta]

Imagine;

Making the Judges acquaintance and he is i m m e d I a t e l y taken with you. Turpin is a man full of desire, that's no secret, and you've awoken a new burning need in him.

After requesting your hand, he brushes his lips gently across your knuckles slow, and purposeful, looking you directly in the eye with all his want. When you think that he's going to let you go again he doesn't, he moves to place a second kiss- slightly closer to the tips of your fingers.

Then his large hand is turning yours over and he kisses each finger tip, one, two, three, four- and then the flat of your thumb where he lingers. This is so innapropriate, you think, eyes widening. Every kiss he gives your skin sends a pack of tingles all the way down and you want to scream.

Or moan.

Finally the Judge takes your hand to his face entirely and kisses the middle of your palm. You can feel the stubble on his face under your finger tips, and your lips actually part.

"I... "

"Shall I continue?"

[smilingformoney]

The Eternal Summer

V. Welcome to the World

Summary: The world ends, but time keeps moving forward.

AN: This was only supposed to be a smutty fic. Then again, I said the same thing about Sins of the Flesh. I hope you enjoyed the ride, everybody! If you're wondering what becomes of your family, here is your family tree (I have given reader characters names because it's easier for me) - you might recognise some of the modern-day descendants!

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

It was the longest night of your life. You sat by the window for a while, looking out across the station. Elliott was sat on his porch, revolver in hand, waiting patiently for Quigley to make his move. He glanced back at you on occasion and his frown would soften, the grip on his gun would loosen slightly, and your heart would ache when you locked eyes with one another.

William, meanwhile, was trying to keep himself awake, reading one of Elliott’s books and occasionally standing up to stretch his legs. He was using a cane to balance himself thanks to the wound in his leg, but he refused to listen when you insisted he should stay seated.

By midnight, you were struggling to stay awake.

“Go to bed, [Y/n],” William said when he saw you trying to keep your eyes open. “You don’t need to stand vigil.”

You couldn’t care less about Quigley, but what you did care about was Elliott, who was letting his anger and his pride get the best of him.

But you were tired, and despite what Elliott said, you suspected Quigley was telling the truth about waiting until dawn, so you supposed a little sleep would do you no harm.

With Elliott waiting for Quigley and William guarding you, you had no warm body to hold as you drifted off, but you were so sleepy that you were able to make do with holding the pillow which now smelt of both Elliott and William.

You woke at dawn to the sound of gunshots.

You’d been so tired when you went to bed that you’d forgotten to change into your nightgown, and so it was in a rumpled dress that you came into the lounge to find William peering through the curtains to see outside.

“What’s going on?” you asked blearily.

“A man’s been shot. Stay away from the windows, [Y/n].”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t bloody know. Don’t worry, your boyfriend’s fine. What on earth is he doing?” William questioned as you both heard the sound of horses galloping out of the station. “He’s throwing his men at him like lemmings. Didn’t I just tell you to stay away from the windows?”

You were by his side now, looking through the other curtain to see what was going on. Elliott was crouched below a wagon, gun in hand, as three of his men rode out across the plains.

“He’s not here, he must be in the cutting,” you replied.

“If he shot that man from afar, he can shoot you too.”

You shook your head, your eyes still on Elliott.

“He won’t.”

William scoffed. “Oh? And what makes you so sure of that?”

“He said he wouldn’t.”

“You can’t trust everything men say, [Y/n].”

“Not even you?”

You surprised yourself at your own audacity, but William surprised you more when he didn’t react with anger. Instead, he chuckled and stroked your cheek.

“That’s different, darling. I’m your husband who loves you. Matthew Quigley is an evil man, a murderer - is he sending more men out?” William interrupted himself as he spotted another few men riding out on horses. “Has Elliott completely lost his mind? At this rate, he and I will be the only men left before Quigley even gets here.”

“Maybe… maybe I should go and talk to him. He always seems to calm down when I’m around. Maybe I can talk some sense into him.”

William frowned, but he shrugged. “Maybe you can suck his cock or something, that’ll calm him down.”

You blushed and ducked your head, and William just snorted.

“Don’t act coy, darling, I know you’ve been sucking his cock. Go on, go and see if you can talk some sense into that thick skull of his.”

You made your way out onto the porch, where Elliott was stood leaning against a pillar, staring into the distance with a frown so severe he might have been hoping to kill Quigley just by looking at him. He jumped slightly when you put your hand on his shoulder, but just as you’d predicted, the tension in his shoulders eased when he saw you standing there.

“What are you doing out here, sweetheart?”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close. You felt your own tension lifting too, as if all either of you needed to calm down was one another’s presence.

“We’ve been watching from inside. Are you planning on throwing men at him until you run out?”

Elliott chuckled, then kissed the top of your head affectionately. “If that’s what it takes. I’d rather expend ten men and kill him before he gets here than let him come and risk him getting to you.”

“Don’t sacrifice your men for me!” you insisted, fear rising in your heart as you thought of all the lives Elliott was willing to sacrifice for you.

“I can always hire more men, [Y/n]. There’s only one of you.”

You frowned. “There’s nothing special about me, El —”

“Don’t you dare say that!” Elliott hissed, interrupting you. “There is no one in this world like you, you understand me? Any man I hire can shovel cow shit or plough a field. No one else can do what you do for me.”

“There are whores in Melbourne…”

Elliott frowned at you, looking almost disappointed.

“Do you really think I’m talking about sex? Have you forgotten everything I told you at the graveyard yesterday?”

Elliott scoffed and shook his head.

“You really don’t know the effect you have on the people around you, do you? You don’t know what William and I were duelling for.”

“Then what?”

Elliott sighed and held you closer, looking out across the horizon as if the words to describe you were somewhere out there with Quigley and the dingos. And maybe they were, because he seemed to find them, and he looked down at you and smiled.

“You don’t know how bright you shine.”

You stared at him, stunned. You might have kissed him, but you knew your husband was watching through the window, and besides, your attention was drawn away when you heard the sound of a galloping horse coming closer, and you both looked to see Elliott’s two remaining men riding back into the station, dragging something along the ground behind them.

Elliott released his hold on you and met his men in the middle of the station. You watched from the porch as he bent over and you realised he was talking to not something, but someone that had been dragged across the dirt.

As Elliott taunted Quigley, you heard the thump of William’s cane as he came up behind you and put a hand on your shoulder.

“You should go back inside, [Y/n],” he said softly.

You shook your head, your eyes still firmly set on Elliott.

William’s grip on your shoulder tightened.

“Do as I say, [Y/n],” he said, more curtly.

You looked up at him then.

And somehow, in that moment, you knew.

Maybe you’d known all along.

“No.”

Before William had a chance to respond, you were dashing across the dirt to Elliott’s side. He was standing in a familiar position opposite Quigley, flagged either side by O’Flynn and Dobkin. Just last night you’d seen him standing in the exact same spot across from William, but this time his opponent was a lot more well-versed in duelling.

“Elliott, please don’t do this,” you begged, skidding to a halt at his side, grabbing his hands desperately. “Just let him go, nobody has to die —”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Elliot said smugly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ll make it quick for him.”

“I don’t care about him, Elliott, I…” You felt a tear running down your cheek. You ignored it.

“Just survive this, okay? Survive this… and I’ll marry you.”

A grin broke out across Elliott’s face and he kissed you passionately, not caring that O’Flynn and Dobkin were nearby, that Quigley was standing opposite, or that your husband was watching from the porch. All he had to do was kill Quigley, and you’d be his.

“That’s the best good-luck token a man could ask for,” Elliott murmured when your lips parted. “Get yourself a safe distance away, sweetheart. I won’t have a stray bullet coming near you.”

“You’re an idiot,” you sighed.

Elliott grinned and winked at you.

You retreated back to the front porch, where William and Tommy were waiting for you. Your husband said nothing about the scene that had just transpired.

There was a long, tense moment as Elliott and Quigley stared one another down. It may have only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like hours to you as you stood, waiting…

And four shots rang out in quick succession.

It happened so quick, it took you a moment to register what had happened. Quigley was still standing - O’Flynn and Dobkin were on the ground - and Elliott was on his knees.

He fell back almost in slow motion, and you screamed.

You dodged the hands of both William and Tommy as they tried to hold you back, and the dust on the ground bloomed into clouds as you ran to Elliott.

One look at him was enough to know there was nothing you could do. His white shirt was stained red, blood pouring out from his torso.

One hand was still on the handle of his gun, which dropped to the ground when you lifted Elliott’s head from the ground to cradle him in your lap.

“Elliott… Elliott, please, look at me…”

The light was quickly fading from his eyes, but still he smiled when he looked up at you.

“[Y/n]…”

“Elliott, please - please, don’t die - please, I need you!”

You couldn’t see the way the morning sun reflected off your hair, shining as bright as you always shone to Elliott, and he wondered if dying gave him a glimpse into divinity, because surely you were an angel come to save his soul in the weeks before he died.

He could only hope he’d done enough for you. Loved you enough, taught you enough, shown you that you were worth so much more than you knew.

“Elliott, please, you’ve got to live, please,” you sobbed. “We’re gonna get married, remember?”

Elliott wheezed, attempting to laugh as blood filled his lungs.

“A mortal man can’t marry an angel,” he croaked.

You shook your head. He must have been delirious.

“I’m no angel, Elliott. I’m just a girl. And I… I love you.”

You sobbed harder, knowing it wasn’t enough. Your love would never be enough.

Elliott smiled, his head lolling towards your chest as his eyes fluttered closed.

“My angel…”

You screamed so loud, the birds in the trees were startled away.

This couldn’t be real. It wasn’t possible for a single human being to feel this much pain and survive. How could you survive, when your heart had been torn from your chest? Why would you want to, when the only good thing you’d ever known was an empty husk beneath you?

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. You had nothing your whole life, you were nothing, and you’d accepted that until Elliott came along and made you feel like you were worth something, worth love and affection - and he’d been torn away from you.

Torn away by an evil man for no reason at all - a man who, you remembered suddenly, was still standing. Still living. How many men had he killed? How many other women would grieve their lost loves now because of Matthew Quigley and his stupid fucking rifle?

You raised your head and, through your tears, saw Quigley standing with his back to you. He didn’t even care about the crying woman behind him. He was just watching as the last of the servants left, returning to their native land now Elliott was gone.

They could go. You didn’t care about them.

But there was no way Quigley was leaving this place.

You didn’t even hesitate. You grabbed the gun Elliott had dropped.

“Needle,” you mumbled.

You checked the barrel. Full but for one empty slot.

“Thread.”

You pointed the gun at Quigley’s back.

 “Hole.”

You pulled the trigger three times for good measure, each bullet landing in his back, each hitting some organ or other and throwing Quigley to the ground before he even knew what was happening.

You tossed the gun aside. You didn’t care to check Quigley was dead. You only cared about Elliott, motionless in your arms, and even knowing he was gone, you pushed his hair out of his face to look at him.

It was the most horrendous sight. The eyes that usually blazed so fiercely, whether it be with love or lust or anger, were extinguished. You could barely even register that it was Elliott in your arms, he looked so unlike himself. You recognised the eyes, the nose, the cheekbones and the lips, but… the man you loved was gone.

You couldn’t tell how long you sat there, sobbing, clinging onto Elliott’s lifeless body as if as long as you held him, there was a chance he’d wake up again.

But he wouldn’t wake up, because he wasn’t asleep. You’d watched him sleep. Even asleep, he was alive. He breathed, fidgeted, responded to your touch. Now… nothing. Not a breath, not a twitch, not a sound.

He was gone, and he’d taken a piece of you with him.

You were only snapped back to reality when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You let out a yelp of surprise and held Elliott tighter, as if the hand belonged to someone who’d take him away from you.

“[Y/n]?”

The voice was so small, so tentative. You almost didn’t recognise your baby brother’s voice.

You looked up at him. He wouldn’t take Elliott away from you, would he?

You knew you should say something reassuring, but you had nothing. How could you reassure him when the world had already ended?

He was saying something, but you couldn’t even hear. It was like the world was on mute. All you could hear was your own breathing, your own sobs, and you couldn’t tell which had come last when you passed out.

---

Time passed in a haze. You slept, you woke, you cried until you slept again.

Sometimes you’d wake and see Tommy sitting on a chair nearby. Other times, you’d find William sleeping next to you. Once or twice, you woke and saw a man you didn’t know, a stranger in an army uniform. Food and water would appear on your bedside table, and you’d get as much down as you could before you began to feel sick.

Tommy would try and engage you in conversation, but you didn’t have the energy to talk. The soldier, whoever he was, didn’t talk to you.

William was usually asleep, though once you did wake to see him placing a bowl of soup on your bedside table.

Maybe none of them knew what to do with you. You didn’t know what to do with yourself.

After some days - you couldn’t say how many - you were awoken by someone shaking your shoulder, and your eyes fluttered open to see Tommy by your bedside.

“We’re going to the church in town soon, to - to bury Mr Marston with his wife. Will you come?”

You nodded groggily, and when you finally emerged from the lodge in a black dress Tommy had brought you from your luggage, you winced against the bright sunlight, having seen nothing but the muted light through the curtains for several days.

The station looked strange so empty. For so long there’d been the hustle and bustle of men at work, but now it was like a ghost town. At the gate, William was waiting for you with two horses, and somewhere beneath the numbness of your grief you thought he looked handsome in his black suit.

Tommy had his own horse and you sat behind William on another as you rode into town. You wrapped your arms around William’s waist and rested your head on his back from your side-saddle position. You closed your eyes, hoping that to look away from the landscape would ease the soreness you felt looking at the land Elliott had worked so hard for.

Later, you’d barely remember the funeral service. It was small; a lot of people didn’t like Elliott very much, and those that had had died at Quigley’s hands. The burial itself was even smaller; only you, William and Tommy. And fortunately so, because you might have embarrassed yourself with the way you broke down crying when you saw the tombstone. Only days earlier, you had stood on this very spot with Elliott, he promising a life of freedom for you and Tommy if only you’d marry him.

He had sworn never to come back here; now here he was forever.

Here lies Victoria Marston 1826 - 1860 and Elliott Marston 1820 - 1865

You calmed yourself eventually, but when the coffin was brought to be lowered into the grave, you broke down again, seeking comfort in William’s arms.

And he held you. Your husband was never one for public affection, but he held you.

“Would anyone like to say a few words?” the reverend asked when he’d finished his prayers.

You shook your head. You had no words to say. There wasn’t any combination of words in any language that could encapsulate the grief you felt, the love you had for him, the future you had lost.

William kept an arm around you the entire time. He sat you in front of him on the ride back to the station, guiding the horse with one hand while the other held you.

He told you to pack to return to Melbourne that night, so you braved crossing the threshold of Elliott’s house.

You gasped, but held yourself together when you saw that his lounge had been stripped almost bare.

In the bedroom, your breath caught in your chest to see the bed you’d spent so much time in with Elliott, but still your tears appeared to have run dry.

That was, until you opened the wardrobe, and you were hit by Elliott’s musky smell wafting from his clothes, still hanging in the wardrobe, waiting to be worn.

You fell to your knees and sobbed then, burying your head in his shirts, trying to cement the memory of his smell in your mind.

It wasn’t until William came to find out what was taking you so long that you were able to pull away. Even then, William had to lift you up and pull you away, ignoring your screams of protest as he parted you from your lost lover’s scent.

He guided you outside, told Tommy to keep an eye on you, and went back inside.

By the time the sun was beginning to set, William had packed your belongings and loaded up the wagon.

The journey back to Melbourne was torture. None of you well-adjusted to the Australian weather, you travelled by night, sleeping in the day, the men taking turns to stand guard against wild dingos.

Not that it mattered to you when you travelled; you just slept as much as you could, willing away the travel time until you arrived in Melbourne.

The house William had found for you both was not dissimilar to your home in London. William told you to get some rest while he unpacked, and when he deemed the job done, he found you sitting out on the balcony that led from your bedroom, looking out across the streets of Melbourne.

“[Y/n], I know you’re in shock,” William said, surprisingly soft for him, and you almost didn’t recognise his voice. “But we must talk about what happens next.”

You nodded. You still hadn’t said a word since Elliott’s death.

“After you fainted last week, the army arrived. Tommy took the blame for Quigley’s death. Two soldiers stayed behind after their platoon left, to help me with moving the station’s contents and… the bodies.”

William paused. You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ll sell the land tomorrow. Tommy tells me his former employer may be interested in it. We have until October before we return to London, and then we can put this whole mess behind us.”

You spoke for the first time. Your voice was hoarse and hardly more than a whisper, but William heard you.

“Tommy?”

“His employment reverts to me. I’ll keep him in my employ as a messenger boy for now, but he cannot return to London with us. He’s your brother, I know, and a hard worker, but his sentence is his sentence. I cannot be seen to revoke that for sentimental reasons. You understand that, yes?”

You nodded. You hadn’t expected anything more. In fact, you’d expected less. You were glad to know Tommy would be around at least until you left.

“Good girl, [Y/n].”

William placed a hand over yours. Your fingers twitched in a vague response, but otherwise you remained unmoved.

“I know you grieve for him — I do too. But we have work to do. I am still a judge of her Majesty’s court, and I have responsibilities; just as you do as my wife. I’ve given you time to recover from the shock, but tonight I expect you to resume your normal duties and serve your husband. Understood?”

You nodded again.

He left you alone.

---

Judge Turpin was starting to get irritated now.

It was four months since his cousin had died. Four months since he’d reunited with his wife. What he’d expected to be a joyous affair had been marred by the undoubtedly shocking end of Matthew Quigley’s rampage, and he’d been generous enough to grant you a week to process the difficult event. And just as he’d demanded on your return to Melbourne, you took his seed thrice daily in the hope of your belly quickening.

But still, you remained consumed by your grief. If this was how you reacted to the death of a man you hardly knew, he could hardly imagine how you’d react to his own death.

You hardly spoke. You never smiled, not really; not in a way that reached your eyes. Turpin would often come home from a day at court to find you’d not moved from the same spot all day.

And when he made love to you, there was no engagement, no thrill - you just opened your legs obediently and let him use you for his own pleasure.

It was getting boring and it was getting frustrating. So Turpin went to a doctor, who prescribed electrotherapy, but all that did was make you scream and cry, and that was worse than seeing you feel nothing, so he quickly put a stop to the therapy.

He was in the middle of giving a judgment in court when Tommy ran up to his bench and placed a note in front of him.

He paused, hoping Tommy had good reason for interrupting a judgment.

On reading the note, he quickly adjourned the hearing, leaving very stunned counsel in his wake as he dashed out of the courtroom.

He had shed his wig as he stood, but he was still clad in his judge’s robes when he entered the hospital and demanded to know where you were.

A nurse led him to your room, explaining the circumstances in which Tommy had found you unconscious in bed, a half-drunk bottle of arsenic in your hand. If it hadn’t been for Tommy’s quick thinking in inducing vomiting, you may have died. Instead, you were alive, but unconscious.

Turpin angrily sent the nurse away when he entered the room, demanding no one to disturb him. The door closed, he rushed to your side, and his heart broke to see you laying in the hospital bed, looking peaceful and serene as you slept, as if you had no idea the fear you’d struck into his heart.

“You stupid girl,” Turpin sighed. He sat perched on the edge of the bed and took your hand in his. Your fingers didn’t even twitch.

“Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeated. “Don’t you dare frighten your husband so. What on earth convinced you this was a good idea?”

Of course you didn’t respond.

Turpin stayed by your side for several days. Tommy brought him food, drink and fresh clothes. A clerk from the court came to take his instructions that he wouldn’t be hearing any matters until his wife woke up.

He read to you from the books the nurses had lying around. They mostly had silly romantic books, but by the end of Pride & Prejudice, Turpin found himself surprisingly invested in the story and glad that the two lovers had married.

When he wasn’t reading to you, Turpin spent a lot of time talking to you, or thinking to himself.

He knew why you were grieving so deeply.

He had loved his first wife, Charlotte, and yet she had fallen for a sailor boy. Lucy had loved Barker; Johanna had run away with Anthony.

And now you had fallen in love with Elliott.

Was he doomed to only love women who loved another?

He had punished Charlotte, yet she had run away anyway. So when he fell for Lucy, he sent Barker away, but still she rejected him. When Johanna believed she loved a boy she had only seen and not spoken to, this time he tried locking her away; but she only escaped.

Turpin didn’t want to do any of those things to you. Was he going soft in his old age? All he wanted to do was to bring you back from the deathlike trance you were in, to make you happy again. He hadn’t realised how much joy you brought into his life until it was extinguished, but extinguished it was and he wanted it back. He wanted his wife back.

“I don’t know what Elliott had that you don’t see in me,” Turpin whispered to you on the fourth day. “But I swear to you, [Y/n], if you tell me, I shall match it. I’ll be whoever you need me to be. I just… I need your light, [Y/n]. I need you to remind me of the goodness in the world. Can you do that? Can you stay good, stay pure, stay exactly as you’ve always been? Or must you change? Must your light be snuffed out by the evils of the world?”

You still didn’t respond.

Turpin bowed his head and sighed.

He hadn’t sung since that day in Todd’s parlour. He’d never been one to sing really, but he’d been lulled into a false sense of security that day. And today, he wondered if it might help him understand his own thoughts. So, with no one around but you, Turpin sung softly.

“I sit here, a man infatuate with love Your ardent and eager slave Please wake up, don’t leave me all alone Your love is all I now need to know Please tell me, my love, how I can show I’ll love you until my grave

You set my heart and soul afire One might think I’d be vexed 'Tis true, dear, love can still inspire The blood to pound, the heart leap higher What more can one require than love, dear? More than love, dear…

Kindness? Maybe kindness… Care and kindness.”

He stopped suddenly, his attention caught by a strange movement: from beneath your hospital gown, something appeared to be moving around your abdomen.

Turpin gently lifted the gown to reveal your belly. It was protruding a little, perhaps from the poor diet you’d been eating since returning to Melbourne.

It moved again. An unmistakable wave of movement across your belly, as if…

As if there were something inside.

Hardly daring to get his hopes up, Turpin put his hand over your belly.

And then he felt it.

A kick. Definitely a kick.

Something - no, some one was moving inside you. A baby!

Finally, after so long trying, your womb had quickened!

Turpin dashed out of the room and flagged down a passing nurse.

“Nurse! Come quickly!”

“Is everything alright, Lord Turpin?” the nurse asked, slightly alarmed at the usually stoic man’s sudden sense of urgency. “Has Lady Turpin woken?”

“No, but I’m certain I just felt her womb quickening. Do you have a method of discerning if she’s pregnant?”

“Goodness!  Yes, although I’ll have to fetch Dr Stephens, he’s the expert on maternity.”

“Then fetch him immediately!”

“Yes, sir.”

The nurse rushed off, and Turpin returned to your side. He beamed at you and took your hand in his, for once not caring to maintain any sort of stoic facade.

“I hope you can hear me, darling,” he said softly. “You’re pregnant. Do you hear me? Do you know? Can you feel him? Our child, growing inside you, an heir for our legacy…”

“Care and kindness, that’s what it takes To make our love stronger Care and kindness, what a wonder Care and kindness…

Now we’ll have our child, the answer to my prayer I feel a change in the air Care and kindness that we’ll show him And I’ll show you also Stay forever, if you’ll have me Care and kindness Care and kindness

I know that you will love and Raise my son and heir Even when I leave I’ll still be there He’s there Care and kindness that you give me And I’ll give you, and we’ll give him, and he’ll give us How it makes a man sing Proof of heaven, as you're living Care and kindness, love Care and kindness, dear Care and kindness, oh, care and kindness…”

You were confused when you woke up.

You weren’t supposed to wake up.

Wasn’t that what the apothecarist had said? One drink from the bottle and you’d sleep forever.

So why were you awake?

You opened your eyes and panic rose in your chest when you didn’t recognise the room you were in.

Someone was holding your hand. You turned your head to see William, sitting by your bedside, your hand in his and his head bowed as if in prayer.

Your finger twitched slightly, and his head shot up to look at you, wide-eyed.

”[Y/n]!” William exclaimed, relief evident in his voice. He grinned and held your hand to his lips. “You’re awake! My prayers have been answered.”

“Where am I?” you mumbled, your voice dry and hoarse.

“The Royal Melbourne, darling. You caused us all quite a fright. How are you feeling?”

“Um… okay, I think.”

You went to sit up, and William adjusted your pillows behind you to support you. He took your head in his hands, examining you as if to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

“You’re sure? Are you hungry, thirsty? I’ve done my best to feed you while you’ve been asleep.”

“Yes, I’m fine - maybe a bit thirsty.”

“Of course. There’s water here.”

William poured a glass of water from the jug by the bed, and you glanced around the room.

It was mostly empty, and a bit miserable-looking. A stack of books lay nearby. You were dressed in nothing but a hospital gown, which had been pushed around your waist, and you tugged it down to cover your privacy.

“How long was I sleeping?”

“Four days. Here - drink.”

You must have really worried him, because you’d not seen William so eager to look after you before. He was like an entirely different person, his usual restraint gone, and you noticed when returning your empty glass to him that he was wearing only a shirt and trousers, nothing of his usual formal attire, and there was stubble on his cheek.

“Darling, I have to tell you something,” William said with a sense of urgency, taking both hands in yours. “And I must tell you now, so you’re not to interrupt me.”

You nodded.

“I know you fell in love with Elliott.”

Your heart dropped. This was it, he knew, he was going to divorce you for adultery —

“And yet, I know you didn’t try to leave me for him, much as he tried to convince you to. You showed me unwavering loyalty, even in spite of what your heart yearned for, and for that I thank you. I know I’m not the kindest husband, and though I provide for you, I can do better. I must do better. I swear to you now, [Y/n], with the Lord as my witness, I will do everything in my power to be the best husband I can for you, to honour Elliott’s memory, and… to be the best father I can for our child.”

He placed his hand tenderly over your stomach and smiled.

“I felt it, darling. The quickening. I saw him move and felt his kicks, only minutes before you woke. At last we’ll have the child we’ve yearned for.”

You felt paralysed with shock.

You were pregnant. You had a child inside you, a life, entirely dependent on you.

If you’d succeeded in what you’d tried to do, the child would have died too. You were so consumed in grief, you’d almost snuffed out the last trace of Elliott in the world.

The thought came to you so naturally, it was as if you just knew.

Maybe you did. Maybe a mother always knows.

Elliott was gone, but he was still with you. He’d left you with child.

Did William know? Did he want to know? Did the suspicion even cross his mind?

He looked so happy. Here he was, promising to be the best father he could be. If he even suspected the child wasn’t his, he would never react like this. He would probably force you to abort it to make room for his own child.

He couldn’t know. He could never know. The child would be Turpin, and he would never know who his real father was. It was a secret you had to carry to your grave, for all your sakes.

You looked up at your husband. He looked at you searchingly, waiting for you to respond to the news of your pregnancy.

“Can we call him Elliott?”

---

Thanks to some herbs from an apothecarist in Melbourne - not the same one who’d given you the useless bottle of arsenic, as grateful as you were for their negligence - you managed to make the two month journey back to London without regurgitating your meals any more than an expectant mother would normally do.

Your belly grew substantially over the journey, and though you’d managed to carry your own bags onto the boat in Melbourne, there was simply no way William was allowing you to attempt to carry them off again in London. You counted yourself fortunate that he didn’t insist on carrying you off the boat himself.

You’d said a tearful goodbye to Tommy in Melbourne, but you left knowing you’d see him sooner than expected; although he claimed there were no personal reasons for it, William had drawn up a law before you left that a convict who spends his sentence in the employ of the British army would receive a day off his sentence for each day served. It just so happened that shortly after enacting the law, he had Tommy enlist in the army, and therefore so long as he stayed safe and served the army well, he could return to London in as little as seven years.

You arrived in London just a few days before Christmas, and you were greeted with warm welcomes and congratulations by other churchgoers on Christmas Day, many of them pleasantly surprised to see Lord and Lady Turpin had safely returned from Australia and that you were heavy with child.

William forwent his usual New Year’s celebrations in favour of looking after you, since you were now so pregnant you could hardly get out of bed.

The New Year had hardly begun when you went into labour, and if you weren’t so distressed with your pain, you might have been amused at seeing the usually stoic Lord Turpin fretting with worry over you, refusing the doctors’ advice to leave the room. Instead, he insisted on staying with you, and made no complaints no matter how hard you gripped his hand in the throes of pain.

You were just about ready to pass out when finally you were free of the weight of the child, and William had to keep you awake as the nurse washed the baby, wrapped him up and handed him to you to nurse.

“Is he alright? Is he healthy?” William asked urgently, addressing the nurse but his eyes fixed firmly on the sight of you, sweaty and exhausted and utterly beautiful, holding your son to your breast.

“Yes and yes. And he is indeed a boy, congratulations!”

William beamed at you. “I never doubted it for a moment.”

Although he’d never say it to you, he had had doubts of the child’s paternity for months. And yet, looking down at him now, he realised he didn’t care if the child was half him or half Elliott. He was half you, and that was all that mattered.

William leant down and kissed the boy’s head tenderly.

“Welcome to the world, Elliott Turpin.”

Twenty Years Later

Being the eldest child was difficult sometimes. As the heir to the Turpin estate, Elliott had all the responsibilities, while his three youngest siblings were free to leave after marrying and start families elsewhere.

Elliott, though, stayed in the family home with his wife and young son. His wife, bless her, never complained - she liked having his mother around, she said. It was nice to have another lady around, especially when Elliott’s youngest sister, Eleanor, married and moved out almost as soon as she turned eighteen.

What he hadn’t expected was to lose his mother so soon after Eleanor left.

He had been the one to find her motionless in her bed.

And fortunately he had, because while in one hand she held an empty bottle of arsenic, in the other she held a letter addressed to him, and when he read the contents, he knew nobody could ever know the truth contained within, not even his wife.

Elliott —

I know I’m leaving early, but since my darling William left us ten years ago, I’ve been aching to follow him. In truth, I stayed only because my duty on this earth was not done. But now Eleanor is married, all four of you have families, and I’m needed here no more.

I must tell you a truth, Elliott, a truth I kept only to myself since before you were born.

You know you were named for William’s cousin, who we briefly stayed with in Australia in 1865, who was murdered before our very eyes.

But there’s more to your namesake than that.

For some time, William worked in Melbourne, while I stayed with Elliott at his station.

I fell in love with him.

If it weren’t for his death, I might have left William for him. But events transpired as they did, and I lost the love of my life. All I had left of him was the gift he’d given me: you.

The very moment I discovered I was pregnant with you, I knew he was your father. I wonder sometimes if a part of William knew too.

You knew William as a supportive if stern father, who laughed but reluctantly, and who adored me and all of you.

He wasn’t always like that.

The early years of our relationship were fraught with darkness, but that tale is done. That version of William died long ago.

He worked hard to become the man you knew. And he did it because of Elliott. He did it because he saw the love Elliott and I had, and although at first he was jealous, he took it as a lesson to become a better man.

I have loved every version of my husband. I loved Elliott too. Both these things can be true.

And of course I have loved you. I can never prove that Elliott is your father, but I have always known it.

You remind me of him sometimes. Your laugh is the same. He fancied himself an American cowboy, so you can imagine how it brought me both joy and sorrow to see you play Cowboys and Indians with William Jr, always insisting on being the cowboy.

But the resemblance I see most is in your family, the way you love them, care for them, protect them no matter what. If your father was anything, he was a protector.

He taught me to speak for myself. He showed me that I can make choices for myself. And it’s because of him that you exist, and that will always be the greatest gift of my life.

I love you, Elliott. Be the good man I know you are.

All my love,

Your mother, [Y/n] Turpin

[multifandomfix]

Protective Judge Turpin Would Include

Turpin isn’t the kind of man who trusts the outside world. He wants to keep you close and keep you safe under his protection.

His love for you is intense and all consuming, so the thought of you away from his protection is hell for him.

He’ll plan your days and outings with him, and become very apprehensive, even angry if you plan something that he hasn’t had time to prepare for.

He’s constantly checking in on you, even placing guards and/or spies to make sure you’re not being put in any danger, no matter what you’re doing.

He’s reluctant to let you be in others’ company for too long. It’s the misguided belief that he knows what’s best for you.

He goes too far sometimes, but he can’t help it. He’s terrified of anything happening to you and if extensive measures is what it takes to ensure you’re his forever, he’ll take them, employing any means he deems necessary to ensure your protection.

For anon

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @devotedlyscentedtocomedians, @lakita-fisher

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 18. Blankets And Snuggles [C6]

Pairing: Turpin x Fem!Wife!Reader

POV: Second, Reader & Third, Turpin

Setting: Turpin’s house

Continuation of: Prompt 4. Sharing, 6. Out Of Care, 13. Shimmering Icicles, 15. Cards And Coals & 17. Bells Of Christmas

A/N: I'm sorry I'm late - IRL stuff has to come first and it's been crazy over here. Lots of things going on and even more things I have to do that absolutely need my undivided attention unfortunately. so, fandom has to take a little step back at times even if this is a daily event. I write too much for my own good, honestly. but... it is what it is and I do love it, I'm just very stressed out right now and I have finished writing today's fic as well so I'll be posting that one right after this one.

Yeah, so, diving right in again and we’re going to have some more rough smut - literally continuing where we left off last time - as the prompts lined up so damn splendidly and to get the chance to give that all-important aftercare Richard hasn’t grasped fully yet but is feeling a need for without being able to understand it himself 😂 But, yes, a little rough smut first, then we get all the cuddles and snuggles and fluff along with confessions and all that goodness! Iiiih, I’m so excited! 😍👏

Tags/TW’s: SMUT, Derogatory Language, Fluff, Aftercare, Snuggles, Rough Intimacy, Improvised Restraint, Feeling Shame, Vaginal Penetration, Bathing Together, Guilt, H/C, Confessions, Touching In Sleep (For Care)

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 2.9k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

⩤• You •⩥

He loved you. He truly did. His words rang sweet and true in your ears and you were desperate to reach up and hug him, but with your arms still held in place by your destroyed dress you had to resort to clawing at the sheets below instead. “Now,” he began in a deep murmur, “we shall see what my little wife can take,” he continued and your stomach flared with warmth while your heart stuttered in your chest. You were excited, a bit scared, but ready to follow his lead.

Richard straightened up while grabbing your thighs, tugging you closer still. You whimpered as his hands held on firmly and his cock was as far in as it could possibly go. You were so full, so stuffed with him your inside struggled to adjust for a second.

“You wished to be my little whore, did you not?” he purred while he jerked his hips forward harshly. You were immobilised by the dress and his grip. “Y-yes,” you confessed even if shame burned your throat with the word. “Such a sweet word,” he hummed as he began thrusting harder. You moaned, your head thrown back, exposing your throat to him while he rocked both you and the bed with his harsh thrusts.

Your dress snagged beneath you, turning tighter and locking your arms against your sides while his hands sank lower. He gripped at the very top and his thumb found your aching clit, stroking it right on the edge of too harshly. “ Fuck ,” he hissed. “What a sweet — mmh — sweet little whore I have.” “Richard,” you whined as he picked up the pace and your insides corded with the pleasurable pain of his brutal treatment. “Little slut,” he groaned. “Sweet—” thrust “—little—” thrust “—slut—” thrust “—of mine,” he said as you tried to meet his movements. You couldn’t, you were his for the taking.

You cried out as the orgasm hit you, one of his hands clamped around your throat as you whimpered and shook. Pleasure flooded your entire body and mind while he leaned over you, some of his weight pushing down on your throat while he fucked you to the brink of breaking. Your body wasn’t experienced enough yet to take any more.

“S-stop,” you whimpered. “Oh no, little whore,” he said through clenched teeth as he squeezed your throat, and another thrill shot through you. “Whores do not decide,” he continued with a deep groan before his pace turned erratic. “R-Richard,” you whispered between gasped breaths while your head began to spin. You got enough oxygen so you couldn’t understand why you felt so dizzy. “So good,” he groaned. “So — haa — fucking good,” he groaned just before he stilled. His cock pulsed within you and you shuddered at the warm burst filling you while he moaned the most delicious of satisfied sounds while releasing you and supporting his weight with his hands on each side of your head.

His panted breaths fanned over your face, his eyes closed while he drew ragged breaths and you couldn’t help but feel some pride, knowing it was your body he took such pleasure from. But you were coming down from your high, the pleasure ebbing away — leaving the pain behind.

Richard slipped out as he bent to kiss the tip of your nose and you whimpered on a hiss. You were so sore, in pain after his rough treatment of your inexperienced body. Yet, still, you couldn’t help but feel good beneath the shame of what you had just wanted and agreed to. Will he send me away now again? You hated the thought and your fingers flexed as you wished to grab him and never let go.

“You did so well,” he murmured by your ear and warmth crept along your bare chest and throat. “My sweet wife, so full of surprises.” “I… I want to hold you,” you said and his gaze caught yours. “Anything you need, love.”

He freed you of the dress while you tried not to move too much, every motion hurt in a dull sort of aching way. “Sore?” he asked, a flicker of trepidation in his eyes. You shook your head, not wanting to put a damper on the moment. “Do not lie to me,” he demanded while grabbing your chin. “Are you hurt?” “Yes… It hurts,” you confessed while trying not to drown in the storms of his eyes. “A bath, a warm bath.” He moved off the bed and your hands instinctively reached for him as you didn’t want him to abandon you alone in the bedroom.

He did not. He scooped you up with ease and nuzzled the side of your head for a second before carrying you off to the bathroom where he deposited you on the one chair in the room before he began filling the tub. You watched with your eyes roaming all over his naked body while he bent over the edge, mixed oils with the steaming water and then rummage through the closet in the corner for some thick towels.

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded before standing. “Gently now,” he ushered and you took his hand before stepping into the perfectly hot water and sank down with a hiss and groan of pain-mixed pleasure as the water engulfed your body. “Forward,” Richard said and you obeyed. He stepped in and sank down behind you before tugging you against his font where you deflated. “And for you information, this is wife treatment,” he murmured before kissing the top of your head where it rested against his sturdy chest. It made a smile stretch your lips.

⩤• Turpin •⩥

He held you close yet was gentle in his grasp. Your head lulled to the side and after another moment your breaths turned slower. You were fast asleep against him and he was alone with his thoughts for all intents and purposes.

His finger drew circles on your hip while his body soaked up the warmth of yours, the closeness you offered. He could not stop his errant thoughts, the guilt and anguish of what he had done to you in the bedroom before he ever knew you consented. Sure, you had wished to be a whore and not his wife, but he was not foolish enough not to know those were words spoken in anger and hurt — not an actual request. Yet, his own anger had made him be so violent with you, so volatile and harsh.

Some part of him had held back though, thank the lord above, yet he had still treated you roughly. Your body was far from experienced and now, as you both lay in the water, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had truly harmed you. The thought made his throat constrict and his hands hardened atop your hips before he forced himself to soften again.

When you had cried and asked him to stop he had both wished to do so instantly and to keep going, harder and rougher, to truly drive home the point you were not his whore but his wife and should not wish for it to be the opposite. He chuckled at that, thinking of how your body had reacted, how soaked and ready your perfect cunt had been to take him even if he had forced himself to enter you in a less than gentle way. Yet you enjoyed it, love… Quivering and whimpering, pulsing around my cock like a true slut. My sweet wife, ever the surpriser.

He had enjoyed what had happened, far too much perhaps, yet through it all (until you told him to do it) he had struggled with the hurt he was causing you — your tears, your cries, your pleading and whimpering. He never wished to lay harm upon you, only pleasure, yet he had forced himself to treat you how you had first unknowingly wished for and then how you asked of him to do. Some twisted, broken, dark part of him had enjoyed it to some extent. He was a depraved man, with urges and wants and likes on the rougher side. Yet, that part of him had barely been heard while he had done what he did until you consented. Everything was different with you.

Richard adjusted himself behind you and your head tipped further to the side, giving him an uninterrupted view of your beautiful body. His cock jerked and half hardened at the sight you were. The redness around your thighs from his former grip, the slight swelling of your cunt he’d taken harshly, the peaking of your nipples under the warm water just barely below the surface. Such perfection, and all mine …

He hardened further as he watched your chest rise and sink with every breath and the echo of your whiny moans filled his head, the view of you throwing your head back in pleasure while tears streamed down your pretty face had him grow solid in a matter of seconds. “What you do to me… My sweet little slut of a wife… Perfection in my arms, for my cock,” he whispered by your ear while his fingers softly kneaded your hips before travelling up along your sides only to gently cup your breasts.

He held still for a moment, and then his thumbs brushed up and down over your nipples as they fully hardened into points while you remained asleep. His plan was not to wake you or take you again, simply to pleasure your body sweetly through your well-deserved sleep. He knew that light arousal after such intensity could ease soreness and slight aches — that was his only intent as he listened to your breathing grow a tad louder while he gently kept circling your nipples.

When the water began to grow cold he held you closer and said it was time to wake up. You hummed and stirred before he felt you wake up fully. “Oh,” you whispered, “I fell asleep…” “Indeed, much-deserved sleep too.” He kissed the top of your head. “But it is time to move.”

You were both dried off a minute later and he wrapped you in a thick robe before motioning for you to sit on the chair again. After a moment of hesitation and an arched brow from him you did as he asked. Richard took a smaller towel and began to gently dry out your hair, squeezing it gently and massaging your scalp with the lush fabric. He listened to you hum in delight and a small smile stretched his lips.

He had the strangest urge to care for you, pamper you, lavish you with warmth and adoration. He had never before felt such a need. Usually, it was a harsh banging and a toss of coins before he sent the whore on her way with little to no care for her feelings or aches. The coins … He felt a debilitating sense of relief he had not fully committed to the whole whore affair with you, he had grabbed the coins, planning to toss them on the bed after he’d fucked you to only his pleasure — to show what the letters had meant about lavishing upon whores — and then for him to just leave you there on the bed after it all to truly drive home the point.

He paid his whores well, more generous in his coin spending than most but he had his reasons for it. Silence being one, the depths of his depravity and lust for violent ownership another. Whores were far more willing when they knew the price was worth their fear and pain — as he now knew, some even enjoyed such treatment. My sweet wife perhaps one in dance with sinful lust as well, can I hope for it to grow?

“Richard?” “Hm? Yes, love?” He had become lost in his thoughts for a moment. “Thank you, for being so sweet to me now,” you said and he looked at you in the mirror before the both of you. “I-, well I hated how you sent me away before, as if you didn’t care for me at all after saying such sweet things about me… As if… As if it were lies…” He watched your reflection in awe, the rosy colour spreading wildly, your lowered, bashful eyes and insecure smile. Your innocence was far too sweet but he wished to lap it up like honey.

“I sent you away to offer space, a chance for you to find your thoughts,” he said while he scrunched the strands in the towel one final time. Leaving it just a bit moist. ��Don’t do that again… Please,” you asked and he watched your shoulders tense. “As you wish, love.” “I mean it, I thought you rejected me.” “Never.” “And… And how do you feel about me now?” you asked with trepidation in your shallow voice. It had him confused, why would you ask such a question when he was so gently caring for you? Something he would never do for another. Had never done for another.

“What do you mean?” “You-, you said you loved me and I—” you gulped down a breath “—feel so shameful for what we-, what you-, what I… For what happened. It’s not proper, it’s sinful, it’s dirty, it’s—” “Perfection and wonderfully brave,” he finished by interrupting you.

He stepped around you, grabbing your hand and tugging you to your feet. “Y/n, love, you are only perfection in my eyes. If you wish me to be rough with you, take from you, lavish you with gentleness, or treat you like the little slut you are when whining beneath me, I’ll do so. No matter your wish, I will gladly oblige,” he said while forcing you to look him in the eye by grabbing your chin with his free hand.

“Seeing you like that, all for me to take however I please… There is nothing but beauty in that for me.” “But it’s so wrong,” you whispered. “Nothing is wrong between two consenting adults, love. I will worship you, go into the depths of depravity to please you, and it pleases me greatly to find you willing to be taken like that.” “It’s not wrong of me?” “Darling, no,” he affirmed before kissing you swiftly on the lips. “There is nothing wrong with you and there will be no shaming between us, ever.” “You promise?” “I promise.”

You were in his arms the next second, sniffling into his shoulder while he held you tightly. “Tell me what you need to feel safe,” he said. “I— Just you,” you answered. “I want to be close to you.” “I want to care for you, as I have never cared for another, sweet wife.” He parted your bodies and took your trembling hand in his larger one. “Let me care for you,” he continued before tugging you to move with him.

He told you to lay on the bed, atop the cover as the sheet was a mess, while he rummaged through the closet for blankets and pillows. He carried them all over and got another round of them from the closet. He fluffed the pillows before laying down, dragging you into his side while wrapping his arm behind and around you and pulling the blankets up over your bodies still dressed in the robes. He held you close, kissing the top of your head, nuzzling into your head before kissing your temple as well with a delighted hum. Never had he felt so at peace, so warm, so perfectly at ease.

⩤• You •⩥

Not long ago had you said to Miss Lowel that the man you were now cuddled up to couldn’t possibly feel a thing for you, that you weren’t even sure he had the capability of feeling positive things. How wrong you had been, how harshly you had misjudged him, and how you loved that. Had you been right, you would have forever been forced to live as a wife to the man you loved without ever receiving a scrap of affection in return. What a terrible existence it would have been. It’s not my forever, it’ll never be that way now.

Richard tugged the blanket closer to your chin, holding you tightly against his warm body. It felt perfect. Never had you felt so safe, so warm, so certain life was to become warm again, warmer than ever before. Blankets and snuggles, it was perhaps to become one of your favourite things — after… well, after… A small giggle left your lips as a fresh blush coloured your skin. It would take a while for you to be comfortable even thinking about the adventures among sheets you and your husband could have.

“Comfortable?” he asked, the deep drone of his voice like a caress for your senses. “Far more than comfortable, husband of mine,” you admitted and he stiffened for a second. “Something wrong?” “That is the first time you have termed me in such a manner.” “No, I’ve said you are my husband several times, Richard.” “Indeed, but never husband of mine ,” he mumbled and, as you glanced up from where your head rested on his upper chest and shoulder, you saw the smallest hint of a rosy tint to his pale cheeks. Your heart positively fluttered at the sight. “Husband of mine,” you whispered before reaching up your hand to cup his cheeks. He leaned into your touch and you felt yourself melt fully for him. He cared, he loved you, he wished for none but you, for you to call him yours and yours he was — as you were his…

…To Be Continued…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Uffh, gosh, it felt good to write this after the last fic - like, don't get me wrong, loved last prompt's fic so much but getting to the emotions and the aftercare and the fluff after what happened with these two last just feels so good 🙈👏❤ Also, a reminder, this is fiction - this story (especially the smut parts) is not how it should be in reality. Consent always needs to be there - like Richard says, two consenting adults! You obviously already know that, but I do always feel it should be said just for clarity 🥰

Also, I am beyond exhausted. Like, I'm sorry I'm late but... This month is draining me 😂 It's not so much Rickmas (even if that obviously adds a lot to the pressure and stress) it's more everything else. Gosh, wish I could turn off the world and be in my fanfiction bubble for all of December, would have been frikkin nice 😅

Q: If you had to force-feed a Rickman character 100(!) gingerbread cookies in one sitting - who do you think would be able to handle it the longest? 😂😂😂 A: I honestly have no real idea, I feel like Nottingham would do his damnedest to go through it if you dared and taunted him enough about it though 👀

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[Dec:2023]

[purplelupins]

Without You

Chapter VIII

Summery: Since she was but a child, our dear, sweet girl found herself captivated by a man who held the weight of men's souls on his shoulders. Years later, as a young woman, she meets him again, and her heart reawakens. Can she allow herself to feel and love as she would like? Or will she be cast away, and reprimanded? All she knows is that she cannot let the world turn without him.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem!reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of abuse

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

For the entirety of the three days following Sunday, y/n found herself in a daze. Regardless of wanting to or not, she replayed her memory of Sunday night on a continuous loop in her mind. The care he had taken to make her comfortable; his gentle manners; the warmth of his arm under her fingers…his words in her ear.

Y/n was certain she would be consumed into hellfire for her thoughts alone. The idea, however horrible, made her laugh softly to herself when she recalled the very novel she had chosen to read on her travels to London- Danté’s Inferno. Her mind ran away with itself when she recalled the judge’s second name- the Right hand of Death. Y/n mused that if Lord Turpin was indeed the right hand of death, then she was destined for hell and she would happily accept it if he was there.

This ardent change in the young woman’s demeanour had not just been internal either- her dear Aunt Stella had noticed nearly immediately the new way in which her niece seemed to live. Y/n’s smiles came easier and there was a lightness to her face that seemed to make the bruise on her cheek heal within a day.

Uncle Thomas had not noticed so quickly, but after an elbow from Stella, he too agreed that a weight seemed to have been lifted from their niece’s shoulders.

On the eve of her return to her home in the country, y/n had made the decision to take to the streets of London m. When she had made the initial decision to venture to the city, she knew she simply had to return with gifts for the staff. They worked endlessly for a family of unthankful aristocrats, and she was surprised that they remained in her family’s employment.

Stella parted from her as the afternoon approached to return home to prepare tea. Y/n hadn’t minded at all- the solitude was comforting in itself.

The sun and clouds teased one another that Wednesday morning. She managed to find herself on one of the streets Stella had taken her to on Monday; it was deeper into the city, and -to her dismay- away from a certain Judge. However, regardless of the placement in London, she managed to find four perfect gifts.

For James she found an absolutely beautiful pair of groves that would hold up against any labour - something to give his calloused hands a break.

For Maryanne she managed to find a simple but beautiful dress for the young woman- perhaps if she wore it into town she could find a nice husband to care for her.

For Martha she found a shop that specialised in walking shoes. Y/n knew very well how many hours that woman spent on her feet, and bought her the most comfortable boots she could.

For Sebastian, y/n had to play off the purchase as if it was for her husband; she had found a stunning pocket watch that had been imported from Switzerland, and she had payed extra to have it engraved that day. She knew the man would love it beyond words, and he deserved it.

The afternoon stretched on, and y/n found herself returning to the house for tea, just in time.

“Y/n? Is that you?” Came Stella’s inquiry from the kitchen.

“Yes, it is only me. I had a highly successful adventure.” Y/n called back happily, walking to her aunt to show her the wrapped parcels and bags. The blonde woman was busy cutting sandwiches into halves when y/n set the purchases on the table. The sound it made caught the attention of her aunt, and she spun around from the counter.

“Goodness me- look at those! Well done, Dolly. They are incredibly lucky to have you as their mistress.” She smiled at the generosity her niece held. There were times where she wondered if y/n was somehow adopted; the contrast between her and her sister was akin to the differences between Stella and Elenor.

“I do hope these are to their liking. If they are not then I will simply have to return to London until I find the perfect gifts.” Y/n said giddily. Her head was completely in the clouds, and it did not seem to matter what she did- she remained in the blue sky.

Try as she might, no matter how many creams and sugars she added to her afternoon tea, nor how many sandwiches she ate; her mind was still on one person and one person only.

Judge Turpin.

Her mind simply refused to abandon him, and while it was enjoyable to think of the man, y/n found it to be extremely distracting.

“Are you quite alright, Dolly?” Stella asked her gently.

Y/n blinked and looked at her aunt, only to see Stella looking from her to her hand; sure enough, y/n’s hand was hovering above her teacup with her sandwich just millimeters from the warm liquid. Y/n assumed she must have acted on habit and thought it was a cookie instead.

The young woman snatched the food away before it became soggy. “ My apologies. Oh yes…I do believe I am just tired.” She said, but then she had a thought. “In fact I may take a short walk after tea to clear my head- that is if you do not mind.” Y/n knew she desperately needed air- somewhere she could simply walk and not have to keep up her normal manners. Not only that, but her selfishness craved to see the man who continued to plague her every minute. She needed to see him. Only god knew how long it would be before she saw him again, and she could not bare to leave London without at least speaking her honest mind.

Stella’s brows rose up in surprise and slight concern at her niece’s statement. She did her best to keep her voice kind, “Not at all, though I would have to insist that you do return as quickly as possible…Shall I accompany you?” She added. Stella was growing concerned with her dear niece- it was so unlike her to get so lost in her mind.

Y/n shook her head lightly, “I believe I will be perfectly alright, Stella. I think I will be able to find my way safely…in fact I already feel as if I live here.” Y/n said with a smile as she rose from her seat. “If you will excuse me?”

Stella stared up at her niece, and found herself wanting to asked more questions, but she knew the young woman well enough that she would insist that she was perfectly fine. Unlike her young woman’s parents, Stella knew when to respect her space; she was not a child anymore and could take good care of herself.

“Of course, Dolly, off you go.” She smiled.

Y/n kissed her on the head, “Thank you, I will return within two hours.” She said happily.

With her purchases stowed away in her room, y/n grasped her shawl and left the little house with a soft “I will return soon.” over her shoulder.

While it was still only the afternoon, y/n was fairly certain that she would have enough time for her journey; regardless of the amount of time she did have, her nerves made her quicken her pace.

Her heels clicked under her with each step, and she found herself coming to the familiar area of London that she had come to on her first day. She followed the small street along until it opened up into that wide courtyard in front of the imposing building; her heart pounded relentlessly in her chest

For a moment, y/n felt her mind tell her to leave, and abandon her foolishness.

That she would just be thrown out again.

But y/n was not a weak minded young woman, and she would not back down until she spoke her mind.

As she strode through the open foyer of the courthouse, there was -to her partial surprise- a new man standing behind the large reception desk.

He regarded her calmly as she approached and gave her a polite nod. “Good afternoon ma’am. May I be of assistance?” He asked. His accent was far more posh than that of the last man she had encountered.

The young woman sucked in a breath to calm herself, “Yes. I was hoping to pay a visit to Judge Turpin. Might he be available?”

“Do you know the Judge?” He asked suspiciously. You idly wondered if he received many visitors, and what nature they were. Perhaps angry family members of those he sentenced?

“Yes, he is a family friend. I am visiting London and wished to pay him a visit out of courtesy.” She added.

The man rose a brow and y/n could already see a refusal on his tongue.

“I’m certain he will accept. Just a moment of his time, please.” She said as sweetly as she could.

The man sighed and nodded, “Your name, please ma’am?”

“Miss y/n l/n.” She murmured, trying to hide your giddiness. Y/n could barely hold in your emotions at all any more. She needed the man to know what he had done to her even if it was the last thing she did.

The man came from behind the desk and walked her down the hall. There was a series of doors on one side that y/n assumed each belonged to an office. She wrung her wrists and clutched her shawl tightly. Finally the man came to a stop, and said “Just a moment, if you please.”

Y/n nodded, and took a step back to allow for privacy.

The man knocked twice, and y/n watched him listen for a moment before opening the door a crack and stepping inside. To her displeasure, he shut the door behind him, and the young woman strained to hear that voice she craved.

What was actually less than one minute felt like an eternity as she stood there in the dim hall. She desperately wished to know what was being said. But then, almost as quickly as he had entered, the man returned and shut the door. That action alone made y/n’s heart almost stop.

He regarded her for a moment before saying, “Just as I presumed, the Judge is terribly busy and will not see you, miss.”

Y/n nearly thought she had heard him incorrectly; that her ears deceived her.

But the man’s stoic expression remained, and he did not move from his place between her and the door.

As his words settled in, y/n felt her blood run cold. She was certain her face lost all brightness, too.

Regardless, she tried to smile politely and shook her head, “Sir, please. Are you sure? Did you give him my name? Please it will only be-“

“I am afraid that Judge Turpin did insist miss l/n.” He said firmly, “He instructed me to walk you out.” The man held his arm out to gesture for her to turn around and just as he said, he led her to the front door and bid her a good day. Y/n, however, barely heard him.

As she stood at the top of the staircase of the courthouse, she could not feel her feet, nor her own lungs as she breathed. Her stomach felt as if someone was squeezing it tight. Y/n nearly contemplated storming right back inside and knocking on Lord Turpin’s office herself, but that idea was batted away quickly when the words the man had told her ran through her head.

He specifically said that he would not see her and asked to have her escorted from the building.

Have I done something wrong?

Did I overstep?

Her mind ran at an unrelenting pace as she tried to recall any possible times where she could have made him angry or uncomfortable, but to no avail. The pain in her chest grew more and more unbearable with each passing minute as she managed to descend the stairs to the courtyard.

Lord Turpin had been so kind to her, and she thought she had been most gracious.

She though she had reacted to his polite advances appropriately.

She thought he enjoyed seeing her.

She thought he might even wish to see her often.

She thought foolishly that he may feel some semblance of how she felt towards him…

But every glimmer of hope she had was gone with every echo of the man’s words.

Lord Turpin did not want to see her.

He did not want her near him.

The faces of people passing her in the street became blurred as she weaved her way through London. It was a miracle she did not lose her way. Eventually, the small house belonging to her aunt and uncle came into view. Y/n barely felt her hand as she turned the knob, nor her feet as she strode inside. The young woman only managed to utter a quiet “Good evening.” to Stella and Thomas who were sat at the dining table.

That night, she retired to her room without supper, and found that she did maintain her evening routine, albeit mostly out of the actions being habitual. The entire time she raked her brush through her long hair, an ugly frown drooped her lips, and her bright eyes grew dull and muted. If anyone who knew her saw her then, they would have thought the poor girl was a mere corpse.

As soon as y/n had walked through the door, Stella had known that something unfavourable had occurred. After three days of an overtly positive niece, then a shell of the girl walking through the door the next moment, she could not let her niece sleep without checking her first.

Stella knocked on her door, and poked her head inside when y/n had called out a quiet “Come in.”. She was met with a clearly forced calm face from her niece, and it pained her even more.

“Are you alright sweetheart?” She asked the young woman who was already sitting in bed.

Y/n sucked in a breath.

“Oh yes. I do believe I over exhausted myself today, that is all. I will be well by the morning for the journey home, I am sure.” She said as normally as she could.

Stella regarded the young woman for a moment longer. She knew there was more to it, but if her niece did not wish to address it, then she would not push.

“Of course. Sweet dreams, dolly.” Stella murmured.

“Good night.” Y/n’s voice was barely her own.

She watched her aunt give her a small smile as she shut the door, and disappeared down the hall. Y/n listened for the squeaking floorboards to stop their whining before she let go.

Silent sobs wracked her aching body. Y/n could almost feel her heart being torn apart as she lay there. She barely slept that night. Tears stained her pillow, and her throat felt tight and raw from screaming into the mattress.

The young woman could not recall the last time she had felt so truly lost.

As if there was no light in the world.

She found herself trying to reason with her mind; reminding it that she had experienced something similar just weeks ago when she had been certain that she would not see Lord Turpin for many more years, if ever again, and it had all been for naught. And while she so desperately wished to believe that this was simply her being silly once again, and that the judge was indeed a busy man, she could not shake the feeling of coldness that had come from the interaction- or lack there of. Y/n was certain that if she and the Lord were on good terms, he would have at least spared a moment to say hello, or at the very least, come out to tell her himself that he was too busy to meet with her.

And thus she was forced to believe that somehow in the span of three days, Lord Turpin had soured towards her. Or -to her horror- perhaps he had always found her unfavourable, and had simply been humouring her.

The happiness that had made her cheeks glow was now replaced with humiliation to colour her face.

On Thursday morning, she did not recall awakening, nor packing her travelling trunk. Bidding her dear aunt and uncle had been a tearful one, from both y/n and Stella. If her aunt was honest, she wept mostly for the life her niece was returning to in the countryside; a cold, punishing one.

To her surprise, James was already waiting for her outside the house; y/n had not written to him to fetch him, the boy only knew that she was to return on Thursday. Y/n wondered if he had taken it upon himself to bring her back.

He tilted his worn hat to her and offered her a polite smile, “Good morning miss.”

Y/n had never missed James terribly when they had been apart, but with those three words she found herself almost in tears. Perhaps it was that he reminded her of something other than the Judge, even if that thing was her cruel family and kind staff.

As she waved goodbye, y/n felt as if she had truly lost a part herself. As if there was a hole in her chest; a discomfort in her head. Hollow.

She felt hollow.

As the carriage pulled away, y/n watched the streets pass her by, but she found herself not recognizing any of them, as if her mind was trying to protect her heart by forgetting everything that had occurred in that city. She felt herself grow ever so slightly more numb as the buildings shrank away and became trees and fields.

Even the Lord’s face was blurry when she tried to imagine it. She knew his features and what made up his face, but her memory of him was akin to that of a dream. It was not entirely truthful. And while it pained her, she knew it was for the best. She would return home, apologize to her family for her sudden disappearance and continue to live until her brain rotted away from sadness.

By midday, and the sun was high in the clouded sky, the carriage came to a full stop. Y/n pulled herself from her mess of a mind and looked out at the manor she had run from. A needle of pain shot through her as she recalled how foolish she had been to think that she might have found happiness in London.

The young woman stepped from the carriage, and stood in the small stones bow her. She held the bag in which she had stowed her gifts for the staff, and thanked James before detouring her way into the house through the staff entrance.

As she crossed the front turnaround of the house, she could feel eyes on her, but she did not look. Her was determined to present her dear friends with their gifts before she was punished by her father. Y/n found herself wondering if she would even be able to feel any sort of punishment, or if it would be numb too.

Y/n pushed the small door open, and descended the few stairs down into the kitchens and servants quarters. A warm glow poured through the small windows regardless of the poor weather, and the young woman found herself wish she too was just a servant with no expectations from society.

She quieted her steps as she approached the door, and listened for a moment. Sure enough, she could hear Martha speaking on the other side, and the occasional hum from Sebastian.

Her heart began to ache all over again when she remembered how worried Sebastian had been about her confession regarding her feelings towards the judge to him; how her heart no longer belonged to her.

How he hadn’t hesitated to tell her that he knew seventy-five ways to kill a man. Y/n knew how deeply he cared for her, and now she could only wait until he said “I told you so.”

With a long, deep breath, the young woman pushed on the door and made her face as joyful as she could. Sebastian was the first to stand and she couldn’t help but accept his embrace. She could not care less about propriety and inappropriateness when it came to the man. His arms wrapped around her and she instantly felt herself let go.

Tears began to pool in her eyes, and fell onto his crisp white shirt. She could feel him stiffen in surprise as she wept, and they remained there for a few moments before y/n forced herself to regain an ounce of self respect; she knew that neither Martha nor Sebastian cared in the slightest, but she knew that if she did not regain her composure she might never get it back.

The young woman slowly released her dear friend, and wiped the remaining tears away on her hand.

“Good lord, I didn’t think you missed us so much, missy.” Sebastian murmured, cupping her wet cheeks.

Martha stood and came beside the two if them, “Well I don’t know about you old man but she surely missed me!” She said batting Sebastian away to give the young girl a hug.

Y/n sucked in a deep breath, and tried to harden her nerves as to not fall apart completely. She released the stout woman, and gave her a small smile to reassure her that the fact that she was wearing was alright. Martha believed it.

Sebastian did not.

He knew that girl like the back of his hand, and she was most certainly not alright.

However, for the time being, he made nocomment and simply held a chair out for her, “We missed you ‘round here trouble-maker. How was London?” He asked, knowing she would appreciate any attention to be taken from her sudden outburst.

Another sharp pain shot through her chest at the mention of London, but she did her best to smile and relax her shoulders, when all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and let the world forget about her existence.

But pain or not, she would keep her dignity as intact as possible. “It was a shock at first…but it was such an education. I saw libraries and art galleries and shops and tea rooms and-“ she had almost started to forget all about the one thing bringing her pain until she listed off where she had gone. She cleared her throat and continued, “In fact I made sure to get you each a gift.” She said happily.

As if on cue, Maryanne and James descended into the kitchen in mid-conversation.

Martha turned to both of them, and waved them over, “Get in ‘ere you two! Miss has something for us.” She scolded them.

Y/n picked up the bag her had placed at her feet, and began placing each wrapped gift in front of the recipient. She watched as Maryanne was brought to tears over the baby blue dress; Martha gasped and fretted over the shoes and James shook his head in disbelief at the craftsmanship of the gloves. They were so busy fauning over their gifts that they barely noticed the young woman and her butler sitting quietly.

“Are you not going to open your gift?” Y/n asked softly.

Sebastian grasped the small box and traced his thumb over the edge. His hands pulled at the string, and tore the paper carefully before setting it down next to his elbow. She watched him gaze down at the red leather box, and saw him fight with himself. As if something was holding him back.

But finally, he slipped his thumb under the lip of the box and opened it. Y/n had never seen the man stunned, but she supposed there was a first time for everything. Indeed, Sebastian sat there with his lips parted in surprise as he slowly grasped the shining silver watch. The young woman watched with bated breath as he clicked it open and he released a sigh as he gazed down at the stunning clock-face.

“You shouldn’t have…” came his low, gravelly voice; thick with emotion.

“I most certainly did. And look here- on the inside.” She turn his hold so he could see the inner part of the cover. Engraved there were the words “The first man to love me.”

First and perhaps the last…

He shook his head and snapped it shut, “I cannot possibly accept this, Miss y/n.” He said, looking over at the young woman who was watching him. The sounds of Martha, James and Maryanne were drowned out in their ears.

“You can and you will.” Y/n insisted, “Stand up, please.” She stated, getting to her feet and waiting for him to do the same; which he did after a moment.

Y/n took the watch in hand, and silently removed the old one that was clipped to Sebastian’s waistcoat and fastened the new one in its place.

“Do you like it?” She asked, placing the watch into the small pocket.

Sebastian pulled it out carefully, and clicked it open again to stare at the remarkable piece. He let out an incredulous sigh.

“I hate it.” He murmured with a bright gleam of gratitude in his eyes.

Y/n cracked a her first true smile in the last day at his cheekiness, “I knew you would. It’s Swiss.” She added.

The older man nodded, then placed it back into the pocket. “I can’t say I know how to repay you, miss.” He whispered, brows pinched ever so slightly as the militant man fought against the tears that threatened to pool in his eyes.

“It is not intended to have to repay a gift, Sebastian. That is why it is called a gift.” She said softly.

They shared a small smile before turning back to the others. Y/n wished she could have stayed there all day, but she knew she needed to speak with her father. No doubt he was already pacing in his office with steam billowing from his ears, and his mood would only worsen as more time passed.

“I am afraid I must leave you all for now. I must go and see what my punishment is to be for my escape to London.” She said. There was little to no emotion in her voice as she spoke, already allowing the mask she wore in front of her family slip down. It was easier to not feel anything.

“Good luck miss y/n. You know we are on your side no matter what.” Maryanne piped up, and the rest of the staff nodded in solemn agreement. Y/b gave her a nod in thanks, and gave Sebastian’s hand a squeeze.

“I’ll come round to check on you in a few minutes.” He whispered to her as she left.

Always her protector.

Y/n lifted her chin high and rolled her shoulders back to emulate her family’s own ridiculous habit to appear better than anyone else. With her walls strong, she ascended the staff stairs up to the main foyer.

Everything was quiet.

Eerily so.

The young woman walked past the drawing room, and saw her mother and sister sitting poised as ever. As she passed, they turned to look at her, and y/n felt her hair stand on end. Their gaze lacked all expression. She decided to not dwell on them, and continued through the manor up the stairs to the second floor landing where she followed the hall to her fathers study.

The calmness around her made her nerves begin to rear their heads; she was so used to an explosive argument or something to that affect by that time, but there was not so much as a whisper.

Y/n carried on through the hall, but paused momentarily when she saw her father standing outside his office. His arms were crossed and his brow was firm; eyes trained on her, cold and steely.

Walter l/n was not an overtly violent or sinister man, but in that moment, y/n did feel a semblance of fear. In her entire life, she had never seen him in such a state. But she would not let him see her nervousness. Y/n kept her head high, and waited for him to speak.

“Inside. Now.” Was all he said to her, holding the door to his office open. Y/n wondered if it was possible for one’s brain to melt from someone starring at one’s head too intensely. She was certain that if it were indeed possible, her head would explode momentarily.

The young woman strode past her father calmly, and sat herself opposite his chair at his desk. While she was indeed nervous, she knew that nothing would happen aside from perhaps her getting locked in her room. Her father rounded the desk wordlessly, and seated himself. He did not look at her as he opened a drawer and produced a paper. Y/n watched as ge slid it over to her, and waited.

“What is this?” She asked simply. Her eyes were tired, and she hoped this was not some silly game. He had, in the past, attempted to have her agree to a set of rules for herself, or even sign a paper which had stated that she must obey each and everything her father told her to exact detail. It had not worked, and she thought he had given up on such things years ago.

“Read it.” He said flatly.

Y/n sighed through her nose, and brought the paper closer. As she began to read, a few words caught her eye, and drew her in. While she had anticipated a document which would ultimately be a failed attempt to keep her accountable for her actions, she received something quite different. Once she was halfway through the document, the young woman felt her stomach drop through the floorboards, and into the cellar.

“What is the meaning of this?” She ground out as her jaw clenched.

Her father seemed pleased with her reaction, and leaned back in his chair.

“Just as it reads, you will be married to Baron Lester within the week. You will live with him on his estate, and become his doting wife, and take whatever he gives you.” He stated simply as if he was speaking on the weather.

Y/n felt her entire body go numb.

“No.” She whispered.

“Always one to deny everything, aren’t you? You have. No. Choice. He has already agreed…quite joyfully in fact…” he trailed off as he seemed to recall their correspondence.

The rest of her father’s words drowned out into a dull buzz. There was a ringing in her ear that made her gut flip upside down and she swore it turned inside out. Her knees felt weak and her hands shook as she stood slowly.

“…you could use someone to keep you in line, and I think a firm hand from the man will do just swell. In fact you have impeccable timing for once. The Baron is due for supper to sign the agreement- what are you doing?” His train of thought was cut off as she stood tall and stared at him with the most merciless glare she could.

“Over. My. Dead. Body.” She seethed.

He stared at her for a second, “Excuse me?” He growled.

The young woman leaned across the desk and repeated calmly, “I said: over my dead body.” Y/n threw the paper at her father and gripped her skirts before running towards her room. She ignored the cries from him as he stormed after her, but she was far quicker.

She weaved through the halls until she found her room, and she felt the knot in her stomach tighten as her reality hit her. No room would keep her safe. As soon as she reached for the handle of her room, a hand gasped her arm and she went to swing it at his face, but it was caught in a firm grip. The young woman spun around with venom in her tongue at the ready, only to see Sebastian staring at her. His eyes were unreadable as her hand remained just inches from his cheek. The same one she had kissed.

Y/n lowered her hand quickly and wrapped it around his wrist to drag him inside her room. She shut the door quickly and her breaths began to come in gasps.

Sebastian grasped her shoulders and held her gently. “What happened, missy?” He asked carefully.

The young woman struggled to get her words out as her throated tightened in panic.

“H-he is forcing me to marry Baron Lester. He is coming here within the hour to sign for the passing of me as property…I will not. I cannot Sebastian, you know what he is like. He is barely human.” The words rushed out of her as she paced her room, “I will not do it. Sebastian, I will not-“

“Miss l/n.” He gasped her shoulders tighter to hold her still, and fixed her with a firm stare.“You must go.” Came his slow words.

Y/n regarded him, confused. “What do-“

“Run.” He said, “ Even if your father puts an end to this, the Barron will not. He will come and he will take you.”

The weight of his words settled into her mind. She did have to leave lest she live a life of torture. Regret began to settle into her bones as she realised that she was truly at fault for the entire predicament.

If I had not misinterpreted the Judge’s actions, and run away to act on my selfishness, I would not be here…all because my heart grew obsessive.

Y/n shook her head and held his arms as if they might ground her. Maybe she could crawl into them an disappear from the horrid world.

“But I cannot leave you…”she choked on a small sob. He was more of a father than her own blood, and he had been her closest friend since she was a child. She loved him with whatever heart she still had.

Sebastian tsked her and shook his head, “You must be selfish. Don’t think about me. No matter where you go I will find you. Do you hear me?” He cradled her face and gazed at her intently.

She nodded quickly, and began dashing around her room to fill a small travelling satchel Sebastian had gifted her a decade ago. It was worn from years of use in her adventures through the estate, but nothing to this extent. Her hands acted on pure instinct as she unlocked her drawer and pulled her secret pouch of coins that she had collected over her life. Y/n found a clean cloak and fastened it over her shoulders before rushing to Sebastian who held her hands in his.

She kissed his cheek, and let a tear spill over, “I love you.”

Sebastian nodded and kissed the crown of her head before he opened the door and ushered her out, “Go. And do not look back.” He called to her.

As the young woman passed from his sight, Sebastian let a single tear fall for the girl he had tried to spare from the horrors of the world. “God knows I love you too, miss y/n.” He whispered to himself.

She ran down the hall and tore past her father’a study. He called to her and demanded that she come back that instant. But she did not hear him. She picked up the skirt of her dress and only ran faster down the stairs, passing her mother and sister who yelled after her as she crossed the foyer.

Outside, James was beginning to walk one of the stallions to the stables as she strode towards him. She would have smiled at the fact that he was wearing the new gloves she had bought him, but she could not then.

Not when she was about to be sold off to the highest bidder.

“Give me Lynal.” Y/n said simply as she trudged up to him.

James whipped his head around to look at his approaching mistress, and his smile faded instantly when he saw the state of her. Without a word and with a simple nod, he held the horse still and gripped her waist to help her up onto its back.

Y/n looked down at the young boy, knowing he was confused. She wished she could tell him; tell them all everything. But she did not have to time. For all she knew, the Barron was just pulling up to their road and would be able to capture her in minutes.

“Goodbye, James.” She whispered with a melancholy smile.

He did not even have a moment to ask her for her meaning, because just a moment later her father came tearing out of the manor with fire in his eyes.

If she felt compassion toward her father, she would have been petrified.

If she had a heart, she would have felt remorse.

If she had not had her soul ripped from her, she would have stayed and explained.

But she did not have any of those. Not anymore.

Y/n kicked the horse’s ribs and the stallion took off at a punishing pace down the stone road. Just as Sebastian had told her, she did not look back, even as her father cursed her name.

She galloped through the green fields and wildflowers until the sky turned dark and rain soaked her through to the bone.

But she would not stop.

Not until she was certain no one could find her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky

@kylosbitch

@dogmatic255

@my-amora

@accio-boys

@teenagezombiekryptonite

@wotcherboo

@yellowbadgermole

@darbylee-23

@awkward-to-life

[mylionshabandar]

Ele seria um ótimo mestre

[bookloover35]

Sweeney Todd x fem reader-I fell in love with the Devil.

Yns POV.

The devil when I say that I have fallen for the devil then I mean it.  And the devil's name is Sweeney Todd I fell in love as soon as he set foot in my mom's pie shop.  I do not know why I fell for him and I know I should not fall for him.  Mom and I both discovered that he was the old barber who both in the old apartment where we now live.  Benjamin Barker he told us about what happened and my mother told the tragic event about his wife and that Judge Turpin has his daughter.

He was completely overwhelmed and I did my best to help him feel better, and then I discovered that he was very nice.  He is amazingly the very first who has ever been kind to me.  Yes my mother is kind but not all the time she blames me that it is my fault that my father died.  And my mother knew about my feelings for Mr T, but I have no idea how she found out.  And she did not like that I have feelings for him because she also had feelings for him.  She always told me.  (You should let him be Yn he is mine), or (do you really think he can love someone like you.) What does she mean by her he is not an object he is a human being.  My mother's words did not scare me I just fell for him more and more.  But one thing really scared me and that was what I saw a while ago.

( A While Ago).

Mrs Lovett: Yn go up with this cup of Tea for Mr T. I would do it myself but I have so much to do here in the store.  But remember, just give him tea no more.  He is mine.

I said okay to my mother and took the cup with Tea which was in her hand and walked out the door.  When I was out I started going up the stairs to his barber shop.  When I was halfway up the stairs, I heard something strange from his shop.  I started walking faster up the stairs with the thought that Mr T might have cut himself when he sharpened his razors.  When I was up, I slammed the door and saw something that would scar me for life.

There stood Mr T and had just cut off the throt of his customer.  Why I dropped the cup for fear I could hear them crushed below for my feet.  Then I saw that Mr T was looking at me he had not seen me before he had heard the cup crushed.

Sweeney Todd: YN!!!!!!

Yn: Wh_ What have you done.

Blood blood all over him and on the floor, I looked at the dead man and then at him.  He started walking towards me.

Yn: No stay away from me.

I quickly turned around and started running down the stairs I could hear Mr T shouting my name but I just kept running.  I refused to stop think if I did not have time to be fast enough think if he got hold of me he would kill me too.  I ran into the store completely exhausted and sat down in one of the chairs.  My mother looked at me as if I had seen a ghost.  I wish I had seen a ghost instead of that.

Mrs Lovett:What's with you?  you look like you've seen a ghost.  It went well to give Mr T his tea.

Before I could say anything, Mr T came into the store.  I felt my heart literally settle in my throat he looked at me and smiled then he looked at my mother and stopped smiling but my mother smiled big at him and said.

Mrs Lovett: Ah Mr T Did you get Teat off Yn?

Sweeney Todd:Yes, I got it, thank you so much Yn for coming up with it for me.

He looked at me while his told my mother I smiled back at him so my mother would not suspect anything.Even though what I saw really scared me and that he scared me, I could not help but blush.  I have fallen for the devil, and why did he lie that I had given him the Tea.  I dropped the cup and why had my mother not heard it, she must have been in the basement.

Yn: Your welcome

He smiled back at me again and I smiled back oh he must be so heavenly beautiful.  Stop Yn you just saw him MURDER a man.  Our eyes were interrupted by my mother saying my name.

Mrs Lovett: Yn Sweetheart can you go and buy us a bottle of Tonic?

Yn: What um yes I can do that I thought of actually walking past the library.

Mrs Lovett: Okay how good I'm just going to get my wallet.

She started walking towards her room and left me and Mr T themselves in the store I did not want to be alone with him.  I turned to him and saw that he was already looking at me and started walking towards me.  I quickly got up from the chair and started to back away from him I should have looked behind me because then I might have had time to discover that I have a wall behind me.  I closed my eyes and waited for death to come.  But instead I felt one hand on my waist and the other on my cheek and I opened my eyes.  Mr T looked at me with a loving look and sad, not angry or murderous.

Sweeney Todd: You do not have to be afraid of me my angel.  I could NEVER hurt you.

I was about to answer him but he leaned forward and kissed me then he whispered to me.

Sweeney Todd: We can talk later tonight.

He said to me and kissed me again and I do not know what flew inside me but I kissed him back and I felt how he removed his hand from my cheek and took both his hands and put them on my ass and squeezed and I opened  my mouth in shock and then he took the chance and stuck his tongue in my mouth.  Our tongues started fighting with each other and I felt how he squeezed my ass again, then he did something I was not prepared for I moaned into the kiss.  He smiled into the kiss that devil.

He quickly withdrew when we heard my mother.  What happened right now I really do not hope she saw that, I felt a strange feeling between my legs.  My mother came into the store and gave me the purse and told me not to come home late.  I promised I would not be away for too long and then I said goodbye to them both and when I walked a bit I saw that Mr T looked at me through the window and waved to me I waved back then I continued to walk.  What am I doing?

The end.

[muiitoloko]

Your sentence

Summary: Turpin and his wife deal with their pregnancy, and have some quality time together, before he pronounces her sentence.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, pregnant sex, smut, nausea and self-criticism.

Author's Notes: Greetings, esteemed audience! Welcome back to the latest escapades of Turpin and his bun-in-the-oven wife. Believe it or not, I actually managed to pen this chapter in the ungodly hours of dawn, and wait for it... I even gave it a makeover! *Busts out into an impromptu victory dance* Now, here's the million-dollar question: Is Turpin still recognizable, or have I accidentally turned him into a unicorn-loving, tea-sipping ninja? Your feedback is as precious as gold, so spill the beans.

First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth and Seventh part here.

As you sat in the bathtub, the warm water soothing your tired muscles, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relaxation wash over you. The maid's gentle ministrations as she rubbed your back only added to the blissful sensation, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully indulge in the moment.

However, your peaceful reverie was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening, and you tensed as you heard Turpin's stoic voice. You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing there, his expression impassive as he observed the scene before him.

"Taking quite a long time with your bath, aren't you?" he remarked, his tone cool and detached.

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, knowing that you had been indulging in the luxury of the bath for longer than usual. "I-I'm sorry, Richard," you stammered, quickly attempting to apologize. "I'll be finished soon, I promise."

But Turpin ignored your apology, waving the maid to leave. The maid quickly excused herself and left the room, leaving you alone with your husband. His intense gaze bore into you, and you felt yourself becoming nervous under his scrutiny. Instinctively, you wanted to hide from him, but you knew that Turpin didn't like it when you hid.

As he walked closer, you couldn't help but notice the slight limp in his step, a reminder of the pain he was still experiencing from the previous night. You bit your lip, feeling a surge of guilt at the sight of his discomfort.

"What are you doing?" you asked, unable to stop yourself from voicing your curiosity as Turpin began to undress.

Turpin sighed lightly, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "Taking a shower," he replied matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It'll be quicker if we both shower together."

You blinked in surprise at his suggestion, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. "Oh," you mumbled, feeling foolish for not realizing his intentions sooner.

Turpin chuckled softly at your reaction, though there was a warmth in his eyes that you hadn't seen before. "You always did have a knack for asking obvious questions," he teased gently, his voice lacking its usual edge of cruelty.

You nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of relief at Turpin's lighter demeanor. As he finished undressing, revealing his half-hard cock, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness at the prospect of showering together.

Turpin noticed your hesitation and stepped closer, his gaze softening as he reached out to cup your cheek tenderly. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle and caring. "I know things have been difficult between us, but I want you to know that I'm trying. I really am."

Touched by his sincerity, you leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of warmth spreading through your chest. "I know, Richard," you replied softly, meeting his gaze with an earnest expression. "And I appreciate it more than you know."

With a small smile, Turpin settled into the bathtub across from you and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that the tub was spacious enough for both of you. The warm water enveloped you both, soothing away the tensions of the day and allowing you to relax in each other's company.

"Is your hip still bothering you?" you asked softly, your voice filled with genuine concern as you reached out to gently touch Turpin's thigh.

Turpin nodded slightly, his expression thoughtful. "A little," he admitted reluctantly. "But it's much better after the healing ointment. Thank you for that."

You smiled warmly at his gratitude, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having been able to provide him with some measure of relief. As Turpin leaned back in the bathtub, he motioned for you to come closer, his gaze softening as he met your eyes.

"Come here," he murmured, his voice gentle and inviting. "I want you to bathe me."

Your heart fluttered at his request, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins. Swallowing back your apprehension, you obeyed, getting on your knees in the bathtub and inching closer to Turpin until you were within arm's reach.

As you reached out to cup water in your hands and pour it over Turpin's chest, you couldn't help but notice the gray strands mingling with the black hair that covered his chest. Despite his imposing demeanor, there was a vulnerability in the way he allowed you to care for him, a vulnerability that touched something deep within you.

Turpin watched you intently as you bathed him, his gaze lingering on your breasts, which seemed fuller today than they had yesterday. A flicker of desire flashed in his eyes, and you felt a flush of heat spreading across your cheeks at the realization that he was observing you so closely.

With steady hands, you continued to bathe Turpin, washing away the day's grime and tension as you worked. His skin was warm and smooth beneath your touch, a stark contrast to the rough exterior he often presented to the world.

As you reached up to wash his face, Turpin leaned into your touch, his eyes closing in contentment. You couldn't help but marvel at the intimacy of the moment, the simple act of caring for each other forging a connection between you that felt stronger than any words could convey.

However, your peaceful moment was shattered when you suddenly felt something warm trickling down your chest. Startled, you looked down, your eyes widening in disbelief as you realized that you were leaking breast milk again. Gasping at the unexpected sensation, you quickly withdrew your hands from Turpin's body, feeling a surge of embarrassment washing over you.

Turpin, noticing your sudden movement, opened his eyes to look at you, his expression shifting from relaxation to curiosity. His gaze fell upon your leaking breasts, and a flicker of surprise crossed his features before a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was almost as if he found the sight of you leaking milk to be divine, stirring something primal within him.

As you attempted to excuse yourself from the bathtub, flustered and embarrassed by the situation, Turpin reached out to stop you, his voice low and commanding. "No," he insisted, his tone firm. "Stay."

You hesitated, unsure of what to do, but Turpin's unwavering gaze held you in place. With a reluctant sigh, you acquiesced, settling back into the warm water as Turpin's eyes lingered on your leaking breasts.

Feeling self-conscious under his intense scrutiny, you tried to divert his attention away from your embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, Richard," you stammered, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I don't know why this keeps happening."

Turpin's expression softened as he reached out to gently caress your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his usual demeanor. "There's nothing to apologize for," he reassured you, his voice soothing. "It's a natural part of pregnancy and childbirth. Besides, I find it... intriguing."

You blinked in surprise at his admission, unsure of how to respond to his unexpected reaction. Turpin, noticing your uncertainty, leaned in closer, his gaze darkening with desire as he reached out to cup your leaking breast in his hand.

The sensation of his touch sent a shiver of arousal coursing through you, and you couldn't help but gasp at the intimate contact. Turpin's eyes gleamed with hunger as he watched the milk dribble from your nipple, his own arousal evident as his gaze flickered down to the growing bulge between his legs.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Turpin leaned forward, his lips capturing your leaking nipple in a hungry kiss. You gasped at the sudden contact, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body as Turpin began to suckle greedily at your breast.

His rough, yet surprisingly skilled ministrations left you breathless, your hands instinctively tangling in his hair as you arched your back, offering yourself up to him completely. Turpin groaned around your nipple, his own arousal evident as his cock throbbed against your thigh, desperate for release.

As Turpin continued to suckle at your breast, his movements growing more urgent and desperate with each passing moment, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. The combination of his touch and the warmth of the water surrounding you sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, threatening to consume you entirely.

With a primal growl, Turpin released your nipple from his mouth, his eyes dark with desire as he met your gaze. "I need you," he whispered hoarsely, his voice filled with raw need. "Now."

You nodded eagerly, your own desire burning hot and fierce within you as you reached out to guide Turpin's throbbing cock towards your aching core. With a shared gasp of pleasure, he entered you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely as he claimed you as his own.

The sensation of being joined with him in such an intimate way was overwhelming, and you cried out in ecstasy as he began to move within you, his movements strong and sure as he drove you both towards the edge of oblivion.

Lost in the throes of ecstasy, you began to move with him, your hips rising and falling in rhythm with his thrusts. Each movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, driving you closer and closer to the edge of blissful release.

Turpin wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as he continued to suckle at your breast, his other hand trailing teasingly down your spine. You gasped at the intimate contact, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you that burned hotter and brighter with each passing moment.

You continued bouncing on your husband's cock, enjoying the wave of pleasure building inside you, as Turpin released your nipple and buried his nose between your breasts, inhaling deeply as if he was trying to imprint your scent into his memory. The sensation sent shivers of pleasure throughout your body, and you couldn't help but whimper in response, desperate for more of his touch.

Turpin held your hips tightly, his movements growing slower and more deliberate as he fought to prolong the exquisite torture of your shared pleasure. He knew he couldn't last much longer at his age, and he was determined to savor every moment of your intimacy together.

You whimpered in frustration, craving the release that seemed just out of reach. But Turpin held you firmly in place, his grip unyielding as he slowed his movements to a tantalizing pace. The ache between your legs grew more intense with each passing second, driving you to the brink of madness as you begged for mercy.

As you felt the familiar coil of pleasure building within you, you couldn't help but plead with Turpin, desperate for him not to deny you your orgasm once again. "Please, Richard," you whimpered, your voice thick with need. "Don't stop. I need to cum. Please."

Turpin's expression softened slightly at your plea, his baritone voice low and husky as he complied with your request. Without a word, he pressed his thumb against your swollen clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles as he continued to thrust into you.

The sensation was electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. With each stroke of Turpin's thumb, you felt the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, driving you closer and closer to the brink of release.

And then, finally, it happened. With a shuddering gasp, you felt the wave of orgasm wash over you, your entire body convulsing with pleasure as you clung to Turpin desperately. He watched you intently, his gaze filled with satisfaction as he held you close, reveling in the sight of your surrender.

As you collapsed against him, panting and exhausted from the intensity of your climax, Turpin waited patiently for you to catch your breath. With a gentle hand, he encouraged you to climb out of him, and you did so reluctantly, watching him curiously as he stood up from the tub, you standing up as well, confused.

But before you could react, Turpin grabbed your shoulder and pushed you down, forcing you to your knees. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked up at him, a mixture of apprehension and arousal coursing through you. Turpin instructed you to keep your breasts together, his voice low and commanding as he expressed his desire to cum on them.

You obeyed without hesitation, though a part of you found the request to be somewhat dirty. But Turpin seemed to revel in the idea, his eyes dark with desire as he grabbed his penis with his fist and began to touch himself.

The sight of your pregnant wife on her knees in front of him, holding her beautiful breasts together for him, was enough to send Turpin over the edge. With a primal growl, he released himself, his hot seed spurting out in thick, white ribbons as it landed on your waiting chest.

You gasped at the sensation, feeling the warm liquid coating your skin as Turpin continued to stroke himself, milking every last drop of pleasure from his release. He watched you intently, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he took in the sight of you covered in his cum.

As the last of his orgasm faded, Turpin finally released his grip on his cock, letting it fall limp against his thigh. With a satisfied sigh, he reached out to help you out of the tub, his touch surprisingly gentle as he guided you to your feet.

Despite the lingering sense of dirtiness that lingered in the air, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having pleased Turpin. And as you stood there, chest heaving and skin glistening with his cum, you couldn't help but wonder what other pleasures lay in store for you both.

Days later, the atmosphere between you and Turpin remained charged with tension, yet there was a subtle shift in his demeanor towards you. While he still maintained his authoritarian and cruel facade, there were moments of unexpected kindness and gentleness that he reserved exclusively for you.

Today was one of those rare days when Turpin seemed determined to be good to you, despite his usual impatience and short temper. You were feeling particularly unwell due to the pregnancy, the mere smell of food making you nauseous, and your emotions were on edge, causing you to cry at the slightest provocation.

And Turpin had been surprisingly patient with your mood swings, but as the day wore on, even his patience began to wear thin. The sound of your constant crying grated on his nerves, testing the limits of his resolve to be kind to you.

That night, as you sat in the opulent dining room of your mansion, eating the food with little appetite, Turpin's patience was finally reaching its limit. He listened impatiently as you sobbed uncontrollably, your tears flowing freely as you lamented feeling fat and unattractive.

Despite his efforts to remain calm, Turpin couldn't help but feel frustrated by your outburst. He had tried his best to be understanding and supportive, but your constant emotional turmoil was starting to fray the last of his patience. But Turpin controlled himself not to say anything, his jaw clenched as he continued eating. His patience had worn thin, worn threadbare by the relentless stream of tears and self-deprecating remarks that seemed to flow endlessly from you. Every sob felt like a dagger to his already frayed nerves, but he held his tongue, unwilling to lash out in anger.

But later, when the two of you retreated to the privacy of your bedroom, your tears continued to flow unabated. You sat on the edge of the bed, your shoulders shaking with each sob as you lamented feeling fat and unattractive. The weight of your pregnancy seemed to hang heavily on you, and Turpin could see the toll it was taking on your self-esteem.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Turpin rose from his seat on the bed, his expression dark and brooding. He crossed the room with purposeful strides, his baritone voice low and menacing as he approached you.

With a firm hand, Turpin pulled you out of bed and forced you to look in the mirror, your head throbbing from the strength of his grip on your hair. As you whimpered in pain, your eyes met his in the reflection, searching for some semblance of mercy in his dark, brooding gaze.

"You are mine," Turpin growled, his voice a low rumble of suppressed anger. "And no one insults something that is mine. Do you fucking understand? I'm tired of hearing your damn cries!"

You nodded meekly, unable to muster the courage to speak as Turpin's harsh words echoed in your ears. His cruelty was a reminder of the power he held over you, a power that both terrified and fascinated you in equal measure.

But then, to your surprise, Turpin's demeanor softened slightly as he released his grip on your hair, his hand moving to cup your chin. Through the mirror, you met his gaze, confusion and apprehension swirling in your eyes.

Instead of berating you further, Turpin spoke with unexpected tenderness. "Look at yourself," he instructed, his voice gentle yet firm. "You're not fat. You're pregnant, carrying my child. You should be proud, not criticizing yourself."

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, your eyes misting with unshed tears at his unexpected kindness. Turpin's words struck a chord deep within you, reminding you of the precious life growing inside you and the love you shared with him, despite the complexities of your relationship.

Turpin's hand lingered on your chin, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek as he continued to speak. "You look beautiful pregnant," he murmured, his voice tinged with genuine admiration. "You don't know how much it turns me on. You drive me crazy, damn woman."

A blush spread across your cheeks at his words, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal flooding through you. Turpin's desire for you was both thrilling and intimidating, awakening a hunger within you that you didn't fully understand.

Before you could stop yourself, you hesitated, biting your lip nervously before voicing a hesitant request. "Richard," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Could... could you... fuck me in front of this mirror?"

Turpin's eyes darkened with desire at your request, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You want to see yourself, don't you?" he murmured, his voice low and husky with anticipation. "Well, who am I to refuse such a request?"

With that, Turpin moved away from you and began to undress, his movements slow and deliberate as he watched you through the mirror. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, the sight of his muscular frame and thick, gray-streaked chest hair sending a shiver of excitement down your spine.

Emboldened by his response, you obeyed his unspoken command and began to undress as well, your hands trembling slightly as you shed your clothes. Turpin watched you intently, his gaze filled with hunger as he waited for you to join him.

When you were both naked, Turpin caught you from behind in front of the full-length mirror, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he positioned you to his liking. You held onto the frame of the mirror for support, your heart racing with anticipation as you prepared yourself for penetration.

But Turpin surprised you, dropping to his knees behind you and burying his face between your thighs. You leaned forward, gasping in surprise as his tongue delved between your thighs, exploring your folds with fervent determination. Your grip on the mirror frame tightened as waves of pleasure washed over you, your moans echoing in the spacious room.

Turpin's hands spread your ass cheeks apart, granting him better access to your dripping slit. His tongue worked wonders, licking and kissing every inch of your sensitive flesh, coaxing delicious sounds of pleasure from your lips. You couldn't help but arch your back, pushing your hips back against him, craving more of his tantalizing touch.

"R-richard," you moaned his name, the sound coming out as a breathless plea for more. His response was a deep growl of approval, his ministrations growing more fervent as he teased and taunted your throbbing clit.

Lost in the throes of ecstasy, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the pleasure coursing through your veins. But Turpin's voice cut through the haze of pleasure, commanding you to keep your eyes open if you wanted to see yourself.

With a gasp, you obeyed his directive, forcing your eyes open to gaze upon your reflection in the mirror. The sight of yourself, flushed and panting with desire, only served to heighten the intensity of the moment, sending a shiver of arousal coursing through you.

Turpin stood up behind you, his erect penis glistening with your juices as he spread them along his length. He commented on how hard you made him, his voice thick with desire as he confessed the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind.

"You torment me, you know," he murmured huskily, his breath hot against your ear. "Every moment I spend with you, I ache to possess you completely. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to walk around with an erection, knowing that you're the cause of it?"

His words sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you, igniting a fire deep within your core. Turpin's desire for you was intoxicating, drawing you further into the depths of passion with each passing moment.

With a primal growl, Turpin positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he prepared to claim you as his own. You braced yourself for the inevitable onslaught of pleasure, knowing that with Turpin, there was no escaping the overwhelming intensity of his desire.

Turpin entered you slowly, his thick, hard cock sliding into your wetness with deliberate intent. You moaned softly at the sensation of being filled by him, your walls clenching around him eagerly. But when Turpin noticed your eyes closed, he reached out and tugged on your hair, pulling you back with a growl.

"Keep your eyes in the mirror," he commanded, his voice low and demanding. "I want you to watch as I fuck you, every thrust, every moan."

You whimpered at his words, a shiver of arousal coursing through you as Turpin used your hair as leverage, pulling you against his cock. "Yes, Judge Turpin," you gasped, your voice filled with need. "I'll keep my eyes on you, Your Honor."

Turpin's grip tightened on your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he began to pound into you with increasing intensity. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, driving you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"You're so beautiful," Turpin murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Absolutely beautiful. How could you ever think you were anything less than that?"

You moaned at his words, the sensation of his cock filling you completely overwhelming your senses. Turpin's hands roamed over your body possessively, tracing the curves of your hips and waist as he claimed you as his own.

With each thrust, Turpin's cock hit that sweet spot deep within you, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. You couldn't help but moan his name, the sound filling the room as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure he provided.

"Judge Turpin," you cried out, your voice filled with longing. "Your Honor, please... fuck me harder."

Turpin's growl of approval echoed in the room as he complied with your request, his thrusts becoming even more intense as he pounded into you relentlessly. You lost yourself in the rhythm of his movements, the pleasure building within you until you felt like you were on the brink of madness.

As Turpin's cock continued to pound into you, you felt the coil of pleasure tightening within you, threatening to consume you entirely. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing as he released himself in a powerful climax.

You cried out in ecstasy as you felt his hot seed spilling inside you, filling you with a sense of completion and satisfaction. Turpin held you tightly against him, his grip unyielding as he continued to thrust into you, prolonging the exquisite torture of your shared pleasure.

"Your Honor," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm yours, completely yours."

Turpin's only response was a satisfied growl as he continued to claim you as his own, each thrust driving you both further into the depths of passion and desire. In that moment, you knew that despite the complexities of your relationship, there was a connection between you and Turpin that transcended everything else.

As Turpin calmed himself inside you, his movements slowing and becoming more tender, he reached down to rub your clit gently, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from your lips. You arched your back, pressing closer to him as he watched your expression of pure ecstasy through the mirror, his eyes filled with admiration and desire.

"Beautiful, absolutely beautiful," Turpin murmured, his voice filled with genuine affection as he held you close. With one hand supporting your belly where the baby was growing, he continued to soothe you through your orgasm, his touch gentle and reassuring.

In that moment, Turpin couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt wash over him. He knew he didn't deserve you, didn't deserve the love and devotion you showed him every day. But he was selfish, a bastard who couldn't bear the thought of being without you. You were his, his beautiful and incomparable woman, who saw past his flaws and loved him despite everything.

As Turpin led you to the bed, laying you down gently before retrieving a damp cloth from the suite bathroom, he couldn't help but marvel at the sight of you. You sighed happily as he cleaned you, your eyes filled with love and adoration as you gazed up at him.

Once you were cleaned, Turpin set the cloth aside and went to the front of the wardrobe, intending to change into his sleeping pajamas. But as he glanced inside, his eyes fell upon his judge's wig, neatly arranged on the shelf. A smile tugged at his lips as he reached for it, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Returning to the bed, Turpin ordered you to sit down, and you obeyed without question. With a playful laugh, he placed the judge's wig on your head, watching with amusement as it practically swallowed you whole. You looked ridiculous in his judge wig, and you couldn't help but laugh too as you caught sight of yourself in the full-length mirror.

"It suits you, my dear," Turpin chuckled, his voice filled with warmth as he watched you. "Though perhaps a bit too big for your head."

You were surprised that he put the wig on you, when some time ago he scolded you for wearing the wig that he said was not a toy, but you ignored that, knowing that your husband was complicated and unpredictable, changing his mind and mood quickly.

Turpin leaned in closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he spoke. "Perhaps we should keep this little game between ourselves," he suggested, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "I wouldn't want anyone else to see my esteemed judge looking so... absurd."

You couldn't help but play along, adopting a stern expression as you tried to imitate his husky voice. "Richard William Turpin," you proclaimed, your voice low and authoritative, "you are hereby sentenced to spend the rest of your days locked up."

Turpin raised an eyebrow in mock surprise, his lips twitching with amusement. "And what are the charges against me, Your Honor?" he inquired, his tone dripping with feigned innocence.

You poked his chest with your finger, trying to maintain your composure despite the playful glint in his eyes. "Your crimes," you declared, "are of causing sinful pleasures in maidens, seducing innocent maidens with your perverse charms."

Turpin's lips curved into a smirk at your words, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "And what is my punishment, Judge?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

"You will spend the rest of your life locked in with me," you replied, trying to sound stern despite the laughter bubbling up inside you. "That is your sentence."

Turpin's smirk widened into a grin as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I must say, Your Honor," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "that sounds like a punishment I could learn to enjoy."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response, the tension of earlier melting away as you enjoyed the playful banter with your husband. With a playful glint in your eye, you reached up and removed the judge's wig from your head, placing it on Turpin's instead.

"Your turn," you challenged him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "Let's see if you can do better."

Turpin straightened up, adjusting the wig on his head with a smirk. As he adopted a more serious expression, his voice took on a low, authoritative tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

"In the case of Mrs. Turpin," he began, his voice filled with gravitas, "I find you guilty of stealing my heart and disrupting the peace of my mind."

You couldn't help but hold your breath as Turpin continued, his voice unwavering as he delivered your sentence. "Your punishment, my dear, is to serve me for the rest of your life. You will keep me satisfied, attend to my every need, and be by my side until the end of time. You are stuck with me forever, even when I draw my last breath. You shall not have another man in your life; you are mine, and you will always be, just like I am yours."

You were taken aback by the intensity with which Turpin spoke, the gravity of his words sinking in as you realized the depth of his desire and possessiveness. Instinctively, you reached out and cupped his cheek, searching his eyes for some semblance of understanding.

"Richard," you murmured softly, your voice filled with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. "Do you truly mean what you say? Do you truly believe that I belong to you, and you to me? Are you my Richard?"

Turpin's expression softened at your touch, a flicker of vulnerability shining through the mask of cruelty he often wore. He leaned into your hand, pressing a tender kiss to your palm as he spoke.

"Yes, my dear," he replied, his voice gentle and sincere. "I am already yours. I was sentenced as yours the moment I saw you for the first time. You captured my heart, and I have been yours ever since."

You couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion at his confession, the realization that despite his flaws and shortcomings, Turpin truly cared for you in his own twisted way. As he leaned in to kiss you, you melted into his embrace, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by an unbreakable bond of love and devotion.

[myveryownfanfiction]

Rickmas day 21: star of wishes

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @deepperplexity, @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @cassieuncaged

warnings: swearing

I held tightly to Richard’s arm as we walked along the icy streets of London. There was a damp chill to the air, creating the perfect excuse to cuddle up closer to his much warmer body. As if I really needed an excuse.

“look.” Richard said softly, pointing up into the sky. I followed his finger to see a bright star hanging in the sky.

“A star of wishes.” I murmured. Richard nodded and pulled us to the side, eager to keep the star in sight. “Richard.” I laughed. he smiled brightly at me before murmuring the words and closing his eyes. I watched him enraptured.

“make a wish my darling.” He breathed out. I smiled softly at him.

“I don’t need to.” I said as I tugged him along. Richard frowned at me and tried to get me to stop. “I have everything I need.”

“everything?” Richard asked skeptically. I nodded.

“everything except a warm fire but we have that at home.” I teased. Richard rolled his eyes at me but tugged me closer to keep me warm.

“I highly doubt you have everything dear.” I leaned my head against his shoulder and nodded.

“I do.” I confirmed. “I have a wonderful life. A wonderful house. And best of all, a wonderful loving husband.” Richard blushed despite the cold and he turned to press a kiss to my head.

“touché.” He whispered. “No need for stars of wishes then.” I hummed in confirmation as we neared our gate.

“no need at all.”

[snowblossomreads]

Day 16: Ways to Keep Warm

Pairing: Judge Turpin x Wife!Reader

Summary: In where Richard returns home, angry that the courthouse has been closed due to an impending blizzard, and [Y/n] finds a way to use that pent up energy.

Tag(s)/Warning(s): Smut! (Oral fem receiving, allusions to female hysteria, penetrative sex), ownership of spouse (it was in the olden days lol), bold wife!, undue anger to servant, that's about it..?

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Evil cackles, if you're were looking for when Turpin was going to appear well wait no more! Please enjoy some warmth with him on these cold (depending where you are) winter nights : D. On ward to the smut. Also sorry for any mistakes of course (is past one am when im editing LOL)

MDNI

"Curse this bloody weather!"

The thunderous shout of her husband's voice seemed to shake the house as [Y/n] padded to the top of the staircase to find what the commotion was about. She hadn't expected him home for lunch, so to see him taking his coat off so aggressively and throwing it at Alice, one of their housekeepers, had her intrigued and mildly confused.

"Richard, my heart welcome home!" She called, coming down the stairs. "I wasn't expecting you back from court so early. Is something the matter?"

"The only thing that is the matter is this wretched weather we have. I swear each year it gets worse," he complained harshly, sitting on the cushioned bench against the wall while pulling his snow-covered boots off. "The courthouse," he hissed, tossing the boot aside with anger, causing the women to jump at the loud thump it made. "Had to recess due to the beginnings of a blizzard. A blizzard, that caught me halfway on my trip back here."

Ah. That would explain the copious amount of snow that had been trekked in, and the many flurries that coated his clothing.

"I'm sorry love, I know how busy you are and I’m sure this isn’t quite the way you wish to spend the day," [Y/n] said sweetly in hopes her tone would assuage his irritation.

As she approached him, she eyed Alice, giving her a nod that meant for her to leave them be. She didn't want the poor girl to feel the wrath of her husband as he never did learn to keep his temper on a leash when things went awry with his schedule.

Curtsying quickly, Alice gave a grateful smile to [Y/n] as thanks before she silently departed to hang her lord's coat somewhere to dry. Going to hand the poor girl something else, when he looked up and saw she was gone, his nostrils flared in annoyance before he shouted,

"Where did that stupid girl go!"

"Richard enough," [Y/n] commanded sternly.

While she loved her husband and held him in reverence as many others did, she drew a line at the way he would talk about their servants. Angry or not. She would not put up with it, even from her husband who was the lord of the house and over her.

Had it been any other husband, they may have lashed out even more. Or worse yet, laid hands on her for being a disrespectful wife. But no, with Richard, he may seem cold with those icy eyes and stern demeanor, but when it came to her, he swore no harm would come to her by his hand or any.

So when she spoke sternly to him, he was neither offended nor angered. He only became silent as he tossed his other boot off with that large frown on his face. Honestly, for a man who seemed frightening to all, her husband very much hung on her words. Only showing his caring side towards her and only in their home.

"Now come, there is no need to for harsh words, I'll put the boots up," she said, picking them up and placing them neatly so no one would trip and maim themselves. "There is a fire waiting in the parlour where we can stay warm. Let us give it some company, and I shall have Alice draw you a warm bath to stave off the chill."

"I do not wish for a bath [Y/n]! I wish to be at court, sentencing those who believe their wrongdoings have no consequences."

A thought popped into her mind. Well if he couldn’t do his job and needed something to occupy him, well she had ideas.

"Well unfortunately, that will not be happening for the safety of you and the others but, if a bath is not what you wish for my lord, mayhap we can find a better occupation that can keep you from going mad?"

That seemed to catch his attention as he looked up at her with a glint in his eyes signaling he was at least pondering her words.

"And what would this occupation be?" He drawled in that rich baritone of his that would always set her body alight.

Smiling at him, she didn't answer, only walking past him and causing him to raise an inquisitive eyebrow as he followed her with his eyes. Once she was at the base of the staircase, she turned her head back to him, a smirk on her lips.

"It involves you following me to our bedroom, my Lord," she purred in the most enticing tone she could manage. "And making use of the energy that you have pent up from not being in court today. Unless you find this to also be not of your liking?"

That seemed to catch his attention, as he stood from the the bench and stalked across the hallway towards her. His strong thick body was quickly pressed up against [Y/n] who groaned sweetly at the feel of her husband behind her.

"Hmm, well if my sweet, and innocent wife is offering," he murmured, causing the hair on her neck to rise as his breath caressed her exposed skin. "I may be yet swayed from working while away from the court."

"Then come along," [Y/n] whispered, turning to face him as she placed her hand on his chest. "I shall endeavour to do my best, and to sway you from doing such a thing."

Her invitation was punctuated with her boldly pressing their lips in a kiss that was not at all chaste. Her tongue licked at the seam of his lips as if asking for permission, and if he was caught off guard by his wife who was usually shy and mild manner he didn't show it as he hungrily accepted her advances.

Their tongues immediately danced with each other as [Y/n]'s hand buried itself in his grey tresses, and a low groan rumbled from her husband's lips as he dominated the kiss.

Breaking away from each other out of breath, and already warmer than they just were, they shared a fleeting glance before they made their way up the stairs.

It was by some miracle, that he didn't take her on the stairwell for all of the servants to see with how many times they had to pause because one of them wanted their lips on the other. When they entered the room, he was already ripping at her clothes, desperate to have his wife's body bared and underneath him.

"Richard!" She gasped in surprise, as he pulled off her night dress that she had still been wearing, exposing her breast to the cold room and causing her nipples to pebble.

A whimper escaped her lips as he strolled behind her before cupping her chest with his large warm hands. Her back arched at his touch as he began to squeeze the mounds, massaging the delicate skin before pinching her nipples in between his thumb and index.

"Mhmm my lord," she whined breathlessly as she melted at his firm touches. It didn't take long before she was rubbing herself on his hardened member that she could feel straining for release in his trousers.

"Oh yes my pretty little wife," he praised, as he leaned down kissing her exposed neck that she granted him more access to by tilting her head to the side. "All bare and soft for me," he continued, sucking at her tender flesh causing her breath to hitch and higher-pitched moans to leave her. "So sweet and…"

He trailed off, one of his hands leaving her tit before travelling down to paw at her opening that was already soaking with desire for him. A loud, needy keen left her throat and he felt the sound go right to his cock that was straining for release.

"And wet for me just like a good wife should be," he crooned in her ear, as he pressed his thick fingers inside of her causing her to suddenly be on her tip toes as he entered her.

"Y-yes Richard my love ah all for you," she squealed as he began to thrust his fingers into her, stretching her wanting cunt. 

The squelching sound of her wetness filled the room as she moaned and whined blissfully as she took pleasure from her husband's skilled fingers. Two fingers became three as he readied her to take his manhood, and when he felt her body quaking against him and her cunt sucking at his fingers, he gave her one last thrust before pulling his digits out of her.

A tiny squeak fell from her lips as she was pushed towards the bed, causing her front to hit the edge of it before she climbed up and crawled towards the middle of it.

Flipping around, she let out a gasp as her husband was right on her heels, his undershirt and trousers already discarded with his pants leaving him naked with his cock standing at attention and weeping with his seed.

Heavens was the sight of her husband stalking over to her delicious. With the sparse smattering of grey chest hair on his broad chest, the slight belly he wore showing how healthy of an appetite he had, and the thick strong legs that she had more than once taken her pleasure on. The thoughts that swirled in her mind only made her body throb with want as she watched him get on the bed with her, towering over her with his stature.

He made her feel so safe, so loved, and with it came the need for her to submit to him, body, mind and soul and she was happy to do all of that.

"Take me, Richard," she wantonly begged bucking her hips in his direction as she offered herself to her husband. "Please fill me up I wish to be warm with your seed," she pleaded shamelessly to the only man who could make blood burn with such lust and want. The only man whose gaze burned her in the most pleasurable way whether he was angry or pleased.

"Greedy little harlot," he hissed, as he knelled in front of her spread thighs that glistened with her wetness and need for him.

A sudden thought filled the judge's brain at the sight of her dripping opening and the grin that grew on his features was predatory. His gaze shot a pang of excitement in her belly and before she knew it, he was pulling her towards him with such strength that she let out a clipped shriek.

Her legs were suddenly being put on his shoulder and her lower body was lifted up from the bed only to have her womanhood angled directly in front of his mouth.

"Richard!" She squeaked abashedly, never having been exposed like this to him but her surprise morphed into an incoherent noise as he began to nuzzle her swollen nub with his beautiful aquiline nose.

The sudden shock of pleasure had her legs going stiff and her hands gripping at the blanket as he alternated from nuzzling her clit to using his tongue to pleasure the swollen nub.

"Oh my- oh my lord Richard!" She croaked, his name falling from her lips in a broken cry as she began to grind her hips against his face while he feasted on her.

Tongue swirling around her nub, he used his fingers to open her dripping cunt before diving into her with his tongue, lapping at her sweet juices that drove him mad at the heady scent that came along with it.

High-pitched whimpers, along with his name, fell from her lips as if she were a woman hysterical. And she was, thanks to the pleasure that her husband showered upon her as she wiggled and moaned his name like a prayer. Her stomach clenched and unclenched uncontrollably at the assault of his tongue inside her, and the way his stubble would rub against her sensitive womanhood had her going insane. 

Her noises had him groaning, and his cock throbbing as it bobbed heavily against his stomach, straining towards his abdomen as it too was ready to taste the sweetness of her soaked cunt. It wouldn't need to wait long as Richard swirled his tongue in her opening once more before licking her slit to clit causing her to shiver.

"Exquisite," he groaned as he pulled away from her throbbing cunt that was swollen with need and shining with the mixture of spit and slick that dripped down her trembling thighs.

Grabbing her legs, and moving them so that they were around his waist, and her lower back was against the mattress now, Richard lined his manhood against his wife's opening before pushing the thick head past her entrance.

The burning stretch of him as he entered her body had tears pricking at her eyes and her lips parting in a silent cry. Inch by inch, he slid into her slowly, teasingly as she trembled beneath him.

She could never get used to how big he was. No matter how much he stretched her out, no matter if he brought her to her peak multiple times, her body would protest that she could not take such a thing when he entered her. Yet it always did.

"So bloody tight," he grunted, before he gave one last push that seemed to be the one that caused him to slip past the remaining resistant and into her velvety channel.

Panting loudly, she let out another watery moan that increased in volume as he finally pushed himself all the way inside her. Her cunt fluttered and squeezed around him as it got used to his size, and before she had time to calm her thumping heart, he pulled out before suddenly ramming back into her.

"Oh god!" [Y/n] sobbed, her back arched and her toes curled as a shock wave shot up her spine at how deep he had pushed himself into her. 

Arms going to wrap around his neck, she brought her husband closer as he began to thrust into her earnestly. Putting all his weight on her body as he moved his hips, he had trapped her beneath him as she writhed with pleasure easily finding the spot that had her insides trembling and her mind thinking of one thing.

"Richard," she pleaded, "yes yes yes, my love yes, please." Her words were incoherent and barely audible over the sound of his cock ravaging her aching cunt.

"Mmm, so warm, ugh, and tight," he growled near her ear causing her to whine and her insides to flutter around his cock. "So perfect for me do you know that my love," he praised as he pulled back to watch her with hooded eyes.

Their hips sat flush against one another each time he thrust in her with speed and force that a man who was twice his junior probably couldn't muster.

"Such a perfect wife thinking of how to keep her husband warm," he growled, as he watched her eyes roll in the back of her head, and listened to her whimpers become louder and louder as he felt her insides begin to spasm, signalling she was close. "Oh yes so perfect, ugh, with such a perfect body, and such a perfect cunt for her husband, " he praised even more, as he slipped a hand in between them to where they were joined just so that he could bask in the loud shriek that left her lips as he began to rub her clit.

She thrashed her head side to side like a woman mad, and her fingers gripped the sheets beneath her as he kept stroking her with both cock and fingers. The pleasure bloomed red hot in her veins and she felt that familiar tingle in her stomach that signaled she was close.

"That's it, there's my little wife," Richard growled, sensing her impending release and snapping his hips against hers relentlessly. His digits continued to rub messy circles against her at the same time causing incoherent noises and words to spill from her lips. "Come for your husband! Come for him so that he can spill his seed in your waiting womb. Be a good wife and let me put a babe in you [Y/n]!"

It was a mixture of his words, and thrusts that had her tumbling off the edge suddenly, and he followed with a loud grunt as her walls clamped down on him milking his aching cock for all its seed.

"Richard!" She sobbed, pulling him closer to her as she trembled from the shock of pleasure and feeling of his warmth spreading inside her.

His arms quickly went to wrap around his beloved as he grunted noisily in her ear while he filled her up. The soft pants and moans coming from him, caused her body to shiver at the deep sounds that buried itself into her bones as they laid spent from their activity.

They stayed in each other's arms, as Richard kissed her neck lazily, and she drew little circles against his neck. A sweet giggle would leave her lips from time to time when his stubble would rub her sensitive skin.

It wasn't until what felt like hours later, even though it was a few minutes, did someone speak.

"So," [Y/n] whispered as she raked her hand through her husband's grey locks. His usually stormy eyes, which were now clear, were trained on her as he raised an eyebrow at her. "Is my husband appeased with the activity that was suggested?"

"Mmm, I am very pleased," he purred, leaning down and kissing her lips passionately. She let out a noisy moan at his possessiveness and was breathless when he pulled away. "But," he started rolling his hips against hers causing her to moan as his cock dragged against her sensitive insides. "I fear my wife has made a mistake in thinking that spilling my seed once in her would rid my energy. No, I think we perhaps need to try it a few more times if you truly wish for me to relax darling."

"Oh no," she moaned as he began to thrust slowly biting her bottom lip. "I intend to make sure ah my husband has had his fill mmm and is thoroughly sated. What kind of wife would I be if I didn't?"

His eyes twinkled at her words before he slowly picked up the pace in what would be a long and pleasurable way to keep them warm as a blizzard began to rage outside.

A/N: hehe well i sure hope that warmed everyone up! Turpin is always a good choice for smut bc he is well..a horny man LOL.

Tag: @deepperplexity it's ur beloved Turpin!!

[slashingdisneypasta]

Judge Turpin x Reader || Excerpt

Plot: The Judge finds you waiting for him in his 🛏🛏🛏 and he helps you to go to sleep ^^ xx

Warnings: Reader is horny, Judge Turpin is horny- there is no smut but there are definitely intentions 😅😅😅

You kind of liked it when the Judge would work late, because then you could pull antics like this on him- and his reaction was always truly one to see. The man loved to find you bare in his bed except for his sheets and that becoming smirk on your face; that coy grin.

Man of sophisticated desires and refined tastes that he was; he ate it up, and you knew that fact perfectly well. In fact you liked to take advantage of it, a little. Sometimes.

... Alright, as often as you could actually. Its just the way his eyes seemed to devour you when you did, and how his hands always searched all over your body for hours- more attentive then any other lover you'd had- it just drove you mad and made you ache. Left you with a sweet and satisfied fluttering sensation deep inside that made you dream about it and then come back over, and over, and over again.

It didn't hurt, neither, that his bedding was so lovely on your bare skin; soft and expensive, cool to the touch though it definitely gets hotter the later the hour. The longer he's in it with you, between your thighs.

So when the Judge finishes work this night you are already sorted, undressed and sat carefully under the covers so nothing untoward was showing just yet, eagerly awaiting the handsome older man to come to his room. When he does, looking tired and unshaven (The stubble on his face making him all the more dashing to you, though), untying his cravat from his neck with thick fingers, and he sees you- the change is immediate.

He relaxes, switching from exhausted and frustrated old gentleman ready to put a long work day behind him with a heavy nightcap and another nights restless sleep- to a hungry predator, and its clear in his dark eyes. The candle light in the room may not let you see the colour very well, every single shade there is in his eyes like you could if you were a couple in the daylight, but you can clearly see the desire he feels at seeing you waiting for him. The need he has to have you yet again. It makes you wonder what he imagines when you're not here.

Does he close his eyes and curse his own hand for not being yours? Does he wonder what you're doing to yourself all alone in bed in your home?

"... well well, Y/N, I didn't expect a... visit, from you, this evening."

Keeping the blankets held carefully over your chest with an arm folded over them, you give him a little smile. "Should I have sent word? Have a messenger tell you that I'll be waiting in the buff for you to come home and ravage me? I imagine that might have been embarrassing for you- not to mention everyone at work would have been a tad distracted."

That makes him smile himself, almost releasing a laugh at your cheek. "My dear, you do have a point. Besides,.. " Your heartbeat picks up in speed as he prowls slowly over to the bed and sits beside your legs; his hands dipping into the blankets and the mattress on either side of your hips as he leans into your face so you can feel his warm breath on your lips. His eyes flicker from your eyes alight with mischief, to your lips more then once- but forces himself to keep it together just a little bit. Even though you truly wish he wouldn't. "Its a welcome surprise... "

"Thought you might appreciate it," You mutter, your eyes unabashedly on his mouth. You cant help thinking about the places his mouth has been before... the parts of you that he has kissed, that you can still feel right now that you're in his familiar bed again- like he branded you somehow with his lips and his tongue. "... I heard you had a frustrating day,.. I wanted to help."

"That was... very... " He just brushes his lips against yours; not nearly enough to sate you, but just enough to drive you insane. Make you want to dig your fingers into his shirt and drag him in for a real kiss. "... thoughtful."

"I try."

"Hmmm... " Pulling back a few centimetres, the Judge looks down at your state, feasting his eyes on your form; the bedding wrapped around your clearly naked body. You can very clearly see how he aches to just rip it off you, but again- restrains himself.

... Agh!

"... What are you waiting for, sir?" You ask, after a moment, tilting your head down to catch his eyes once again with yours. For, you do love to have his hungry, greedy stare on you but you also need is touch. He flashes you a tiny smirk at this, one of those miniscule expressions of his that drive you insane.

"Eager are we, dove?"

With a gentle sigh at his teasing, not really frustrated with him but eager like he said, you let go of the bedding around your chest in favour of running your hands up his arms from knuckles to shoulders. The bedding stays put, but only just, and by the time your finger tips are grazing his neck - that cravat hanging loose and his perfect, crisp white collar open and making him look dangerously attractive, - , his eyes are absolutely on fire. "... well, yes- "

You barely get to admit your desires for him before his mouth is on yours, kissing the life out of you.

[smilingformoney]

The Eternal Summer

IV. Cowboy Blues

Summary: Elliott Marston/Reader | Judge Turpin/Reader | Elliott makes his intentions clear - just in time for Turpin's arrival.

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

It had been the longest, strangest month of your life.

What you and Elliott were, you couldn’t say. But it certainly wasn’t what anyone had envisaged when your husband had ordered you to keep his cousin’s bed warm while he made arrangements in Melbourne.

For one thing, he was only supposed to be a few days behind you. Yet here you were, one month later, still at Elliott’s station with no way of knowing where your husband was, if he was ever coming to collect you, or if he was even still alive.

You begged Elliott to send men to Melbourne to search for news of Judge Turpin, but with Quigley on a rampage in the outback, Elliott’s men were dwindling every day, and he couldn’t spare any until Quigley was put down.

So you were left in limbo, separated from your husband, unable to move on.

All you knew for sure was that you didn’t want to let go of how comfortable you were with Elliott. You welcomed his touch, his kisses, and when he took you, you felt like he was giving you pleasure just as much as he was taking his own.

Yet you still missed your husband, and it made everything so much harder. Your cunt might be on loan to Elliott, but was it even possible for your heart to be too?

One morning, you must have seemed particularly down, because Elliott asked you to accompany him somewhere. He didn’t say where, or why - he simply saddled up his horse, ensured you were securely sat behind him, and rode a few miles west, until he finally slowed the horse to a stop and helped you down.

You looked around. You were at a nearby town, in the graveyard behind the church. Elliott reached into the bag affixed to the saddle and withdrew a bunch of flowers. He took you by the hand and silently led you to a grave.

The gravestone was one of the larger ones like you’d seen in the graveyard of St Dunstan’s in London, which were double the width to accommodate two graves: those of a husband and wife. This gravestone, like some of those, marked one grave and one reserved plot; one spouse had died and waited to be joined by the other.

A wilted dark-crimson rose sat at the foot of the grave. Elliott bent down to clear it away and replaced it with a single pink carnation from the flowers in his hand. As he stood up, you looked at the gravestone and read:

Here lies Victoria Marston 1826 - 1860

Underneath was a blank slate, room reserved for her husband - for Elliott.

“We were only married for a year when the sickness took her,” Elliott said quietly, speaking for the first time since you’d left the station.

You looked up at him. You knew he’d been married before, but only because he’d mentioned it once the first day you met. Otherwise, there was no trace - no belongings left behind, no children. Only this one gravestone, a plot of ground, and the flowers Elliott brought.

“It was five years ago, and still I visit her grave once a month. I loved her very much. I… still love her.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if refusing to let grief take hold of him.

“I will always love her. Every day I spend with you, [Y/n], it’s… the happiest I’ve felt since I lost her. And yet, I feel twisted with guilt, as if I’m betraying her somehow. I know it’s not true, that she’s dead and gone… yet still I feel as if I’m betraying my vows to her.”

He turned to you, eyes looking into yours searchingly.

“I’m telling you this, [Y/n], because I want you to know that I understand how it feels when your heart yearns for something that goes against the vows you made. But sometimes… it’s time to move on.”

He held up the remaining flowers in his hand.

“These ones are for you.”

Red and white roses. One didn’t have to be well-versed in floriography to know what those meant.

“Elliott…”

You glanced at the pink carnation on the grave, then back to the roses in his hands.

“My husband isn’t dead, Elliott. He’s coming for me.”

How did you know? You couldn’t, not really. But a part of you knew, some part of your soul that was intrinsically linked to that of your husband, knew he was alive, and you’d see him again.

“You don’t have to leave with him, [Y/n]. You can stay. Stay here, with me. I’ll keep you safe. From him, from anything — and I would never hurt you.”

“Safe from him?” you echoed, frowning. “He’s my husband, Elliott. He’s not a danger to me.”

“No? Then why are you so frightened of him?”

You ducked your head, ashamed to let Elliott see the truth in your eyes.

“I’m not scared of him,” you lied. “I love him,” you said truthfully.

Elliott took your chin between his fingers and forced you to look at him.

“No good husband offers his wife to another.”

“And does a good man accept the offered wife?”

“I don’t claim to be a good man, [Y/n]. I never did. But I believe I was a good husband to Victoria… and I would be a good husband to you. You could be free, free to be whoever you want to be. I can give you that freedom.”

You shook your head, trying to ignore the tears that were welling in your eyes.

“Even - even if I wanted to stay, Elliott… I can’t marry you.”

“Why, because you’re already married? Petition for divorce. It would be granted on grounds of cruelty, I know it would.”

“Do you think any judge is going to let another judge’s wife divorce him?”

“Then he’ll divorce you. You’re an adulterer, after all.”

You took a step back, wiping an errant tear from your eye.

“He’d never. He loves me, Elliott. He’d fight for me.”

Elliott’s hand twitched near his gun.

“So will I.”

“Don’t you dare! Not everything can be settled with a gun, Elliott. I’d never forgive you.”

“And I’ll never forgive myself if I let you leave with him.”

“Why are you saying this now, Elliott? We’ve been… whatever this is… for a month. What’s changed today?”

Elliott gestured towards the carnation on his wife’s grave.

“I’ll always remember her. But I’m not coming back here. I want to move forward — with you, [Y/n]. We can be a family here, you, me and Tommy.”

You blinked, taken aback. “…Tommy?”

“Of course,” Elliott said as if it were obvious. “You think I’d continue employing him if I married you? From what you tell me, you practically raised him, so we’d adopt him as our own and - mmph!”

You cut him off when you grabbed him by the lapel of his waistcoat and pulled him in for a kiss. He was taken aback for a moment, but he quickly melted into the kiss, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you tight while the other kept hold of the flowers you still hadn’t accepted from him.

You kissed him until your lips were numb, and when you finally parted for breath, your skin was sore from rubbing against his facial hair, but you didn’t care.

“Is it too late to accept those flowers?”

“Was that really all I had to say?” Elliott said breathily, and you laughed.

You took the flowers and held them up to smell them. They were fresh and stunningly beautiful. You had no idea a land as barren as Australia could bloom something so lovely.

“I’m… I’m not saying yes,” you said, your voice hardly more than a whisper. “But I’m not saying no. I need time.”

Elliott nodded.

“I understand. Shall we get home? I’m expecting Quigley to show his face any moment now, and I need to be there when he does.”

Home. Was that not London anymore?

***

You arrived at the station in the mid-afternoon, and while Elliott tied the horse, you made your way into the house to find a vase for your flowers. You heard movement in the house, but you paid it no mind, assuming Elliott’s servant was going about his business. After placing the flowers in a vase from the kitchen, you opened the door to the lounge and let out a yelp of surprise when you saw a figure sitting on the sofa with a book in hand. Your immediate thought was that it was Quigley, waiting for Elliott to get home to shoot him, but as the moment of shock passed, your mind caught up with your situation and you realised that you very much recognised the visitor, even from behind.

“William?”

Your husband turned to you. Yes, it was him, it was really him! His skin had tanned in the sun, but no doubt yours had too.

“Darling,” he said with a smile as he put the book down, and he was hardly to his feet when you threw your arms around him. You recognised his smell, the feel of his body against yours, the low rumble in his chest as he chuckled at your enthusiasm.

“Oh, Will, I was so scared,” you cried, head buried against his chest. “I thought you’d died or - or decided you didn’t want me anymore…”

“Oh, bunny, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m sorry I took so long to come for you. The administration in Melbourne is a nightmare, it took a week just to get a house, and another two until I was satisfied it was hospitable enough for you. Did you miss me, then?”

You sniffed and looked up at him. “Very much so. I don’t want to be parted from you for so long ever again.”

William smiled. “You won’t, I swear it. I need my bunny, after all. Won’t you greet your husband with a kiss?”

You squealed happily and lifted yourself on your tip-toes to kiss him. You’d missed this so much, his warmth, his touch, his taste. William wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close against him, his tongue desperately seeking yours, as if a month without you had parched him desperately.

Hearing movement and voices from within his house, Elliott kept his hand over the barrel of his gun as it sat in its holster, ready to whip it out at a moment’s notice. When he pushed open the door and saw another man holding you close, lips and tongue accosting yours, he nearly did draw his gun - until he realised who it was.

He was still tempted to shoot him down.

“Finally arrived, then, cousin,” Elliott said instead, leaning back against the doorframe with his arms folded, as if it were a perfectly normal scene for him to walk on.

You made a muffled grunt of surprise, as if you’d completely forgotten whose house you were in. William finally withdrew his tongue from you, panting heavily, his eyes blown with lust as he looked down at you with a hungry grin.

“Elliott!” you exclaimed, looking over to him, and you felt a pang of guilt when you saw the way he was watching you. “So sorry for the lack of decorum. But isn’t it wonderful? William’s finally here, and he’s alright!”

“Yes. Wonderful.”

“You could be happier to see me, Elliott,” William said with a raised eyebrow, finally tearing his eyes from you to address his cousin. “You’ll no longer be encumbered with hosting duties. I do apologise for stretching your hospitality so far.”

“Nonsense, [Y/n]'s been excellent company,” Elliott replied with a nonchalant shrug. “She’s patched up all my clothes, and my men’s, and fulfilled all the duties she would if she were my own wife.”

“Yes, I bet she has. Well, we’ll be off soon, so you won’t have to bear her company much longer.”

“Do we leave very soon, my love?” you enquired, fear suddenly striking your heart that you might find yourself leaving Elliott too soon.

“Not tonight, obviously, it’s getting dark. And I’m not just here for you, darling, I have other matters to attend to. This Quigley business, Elliott, we’re hearing all about it in Melbourne and he’s stirring up quite a storm. If he shows up here, I’ll arrest him and bring him in for trial myself.”

“Oh, no need to trouble yourself with Quigley, William, I’m expecting him soon enough and I’ve got it quite in hand.”

Elliott patted the gun on his hip with a confident smirk.

“You’re aware of the arrangement I have with Major Ashley-Pitt?”

“Yes, well, if you kill him, so be it. It’ll be much less hassle than escorting him back to Melbourne. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long ride and I’d like some rest. Do you have suitable quarters?”

Elliott scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Well, there’s the men’s quarters, but that’s not good enough for a man of your standing, I suppose. The only bed I’d imagine is suitable would be my own. Go ahead and make use of it, I can bear to sleep in the lodge for a night.”

“Very gracious of you, Elliott, thank you.”

“Of course. Get yourself rested up, William, I’ll get the servant to make dinner for three tonight.”

“Excellent. Come along, [Y/n].”

William placed a hand on your lower back. You glanced at Elliott apologetically, then allowed your husband to guide you to the bedroom.

“Lord have mercy, [Y/n], the hold you have on me,” William said with a groan of relief as he pushed the door closed behind him. “I’ve been unable to sleep without you by my side. Dress off, darling, I need to see you.”

He assisted you with the lace of your dress, although his method seemed to involve a lot more breast-fondling than your own. You let the dress fall away, and William let out a moan of desire when your breasts popped out of the bodice. He grabbed at the waistband of your bloomers and pushed them to the floor, then stood back to get a good look at you.

“Even more beautiful than I remembered. Have you lost weight?”

You looked down and examined your figure. “I suppose I have,” you mused. “The food isn’t as luxurious out here as it is in London.”

“Hmm, I hope Elliott’s been feeding you properly. I won’t have my wife wasting away.”

William placed his hands on your hips as he looked you up and down appraisingly. He smirked in satisfaction, then turned you around to look at you from behind. He ran his hands over your rear, and you shivered with anticipation. William hummed with approval, then pulled your body against him, his hard cock pressing against you through his trousers.

“Oh, I have missed this. Have you missed me, bunny?”

“Yes, yes, I missed you so much, my teddy bear,” you mumbled, then gasped when William slid a hand between your legs and pushed a finger into your folds. He slipped in with ease, and you heard the familiar squelching noise that betrayed your arousal.

“Mmm, you must think me such a cruel husband, getting you addicted to my cock then taking it away for a month. How your cunt must have cried out for me. No matter… I’m here now, and I’m going to live in your cunt until you swell with child. Get on the bed, darling, else I won’t be able to contain myself much longer.”

“How do you want me, sir?” you asked obediently as William stepped back from you to undress himself.

“However you want, darling. It’s the least I can do after starving you for so long.”

He was letting you choose the position? Perhaps a month in Australia had changed him, too.

You climbed onto the bed and laid on your back, head on the pillows, your legs open and ready for him.

“Ah, classic missionary, is it? If my bunny insists.”

“I want to see you, Will.”

William grinned. “Good. I want to watch your face as I fuck you again. I had to take the whores in Melbourne from behind, I couldn’t stand looking at their faces knowing they weren’t you.”

Your heart dropped, and you shrunk into yourself slightly. William, meanwhile, finished undressing himself and climbed on top of you, apparently unaware of the effect of what he’d said.

“You… took whores in Melbourne?” you asked quietly.

“Of course I did,” William replied curtly, as if the question were obvious and bothersome. “You know how hot-blooded I am, darling. Did you expect me to abstain for a month? Don’t worry, I didn’t finish inside any of them. Now, keep your legs nice and wide for me, bunny…”

You obeyed, although your heart wasn’t in it anymore. He slipped inside you with ease, and you whined as you felt him stretching you out, and though you’d ached to see his blissful face again, now you felt nothing but anguish knowing he’d shared that same intimacy with however many whores he’d found in Melbourne.

You wished now you’d asked him to take you from behind so you could hide your face from him. You settled instead for wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and burying your face in his neck, letting him think it an act of intimacy, when really you were hiding the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes.

It had been a long time since you’d tried to hide your anguish as William fucked you into the bed, uncaring if he even noticed your feelings, but it was a skill you’d picked up early and one you remembered now as easy as breathing.

He was grunting loudly with each thrust, and if you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he was being loud on purpose, making sure that Elliott could hear you from the lounge, reminding him that he was your husband, reclaiming your cunt that had merely been on loan.

Elliott could, indeed, hear his cousin’s passions through the walls. He heard William’s grunts, the squeaking of the bedsprings, the thud of the headboard against the wall, the slapping of skin against skin. But what he distinctly didn’t hear was you. He knew how vocal you were; with the intensity of the way you were being fucked right now, you should have been moaning too. So why weren’t you?

He knew he should leave. He could sit out on the porch, practise shooting, get some work done around the station. He had no cause to sit at his desk as he was now, staring blankly at his ledger, fooling himself that he intended to work when all he could do was sit and listen to another man taking you in his own bed.

Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He thought that if he did, William might know somehow that he wasn’t there to protect you, and what was now just selfish lovemaking would turn into something worse.

So he stayed, staring blankly at the ledger, and when half an hour had passed, Elliott had to give his cousin credit where it was due - he had considerable stamina for his age.

Eventually, Elliott became so used to the noise that it became background noise, and he was actually able to get some work done. By the time the noise stopped and William’s grunts were shortly replaced by his snoring, an hour had passed.

Elliott closed his ledger with a sigh, then stood up to stretch his legs. Just as he did so, the bedroom door opened, and he spotted you in a nightgown scurrying across the hall to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, you emerged, and you jumped when you opened the door to find Elliott standing against the doorframe, waiting for you.

“Sorry, it’s all yours,” you mumbled, thinking he wanted the bathroom. You stepped aside to let him in, but instead Elliott wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled you in close.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear him, even with his lips pressed against your ear.

“No,” you replied softly.

“Then why are your legs shaking?”

You glanced down and realised that your legs were indeed shaking, as if you were a newborn foal walking for the first time.

“I’m just tired. I need to rest.”

“Come and sit down.”

“…Alright.”

Elliott led you back into the lounge and sat you down on the sofa. He disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments, then returned with a glass of water, which you took gratefully.

“I’m surprised you can ever sleep at home with those snores,” Elliott commented as he sat down next to you and delicately wrapped an arm around your waist.

You smiled. “It took some getting used to, but now I can’t sleep without the sound of snoring. That’s why I never complain about yours.”

“I don’t snore!” Elliott protested, and you laughed.

“Not as loud as that, but you do. It’s fine, I told you, I like it. Especially when I wake up first and I can feel your breath on my neck… and even in your sleep, as soon as I move you pull me in close and kiss me…”

You smiled, blushing, then your heart dropped slightly when you realised you’d probably never wake up next to him again.

Elliott looked at you, saw the sadness in your eyes, and made a decision. He took your glass from your hand and set it aside, then crouched down on one knee in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“It doesn’t have to end, [Y/n]. Stay with me.”

You closed your eyes, willing the tears not to spill.

“I can’t,” you whispered.

“[Y/n], I just had to sit here and listen to that man fuck you for an hour solid, and not once did I hear a peep from you. He doesn’t even know how to please you! You think he cares about your happiness? I can give you so much more, [Y/n]. I can give you freedom. Freedom to be who you want to be. To discover who you want to be. Tommy too, we’ll adopt him and he’ll be free from his service. Don’t you want that?”

“It’s not that simple, Elliott,” you said with a shake of your head. “I love my husband, I’d never hurt him.”

“Then let me hurt him.”

You looked up at him in disbelief through watery eyes, and you could tell from the hard look in his eyes that he was being completely serious.

“No,” you said firmly. “Not everything can be solved with a gun, Elliott.”

“Then how do we solve this?”

“Don’t you see? We don’t! We can’t. There’s no resolution here that doesn’t break my heart.”

Elliott sighed, closed his eyes resolutely, then bowed his head to steel himself. It was now or never.

He looked at you. You, with your eyes full of tears, holding them back even now in an attempt to be strong. You, who had done nothing wrong in your life, and was being punished for it with a marriage to a man you thought you loved, but when you spoke of how he treated you, how could you love a man like that?

Only a heart strong enough to love a man like Judge Turpin could be capable of loving Elliott Marston.

That was the irony of it all. If you weren’t married to his cousin, you’d be free - but you’d have never come to Australia. You’d never have met.

There was no way your love could be anything but doomed.

But it was real. He loved you, and he knew you loved him. You proved it every day with your sweet words, your blushes and smiles, your kisses and your embraces.

But you’d never say it, not while married to another man, not when to admit it was to break your own heart.

Well, his heart was breaking anyway. He might as well go all the way.

Elliott reached up to cup your face in his hands, his thumb wiping away an errant tear.

“[Y/n]… I love you.”

And there it was. The truth of the matter, laid out in three simple words.

I love you too, Elliott. Let’s get married tomorrow. We’ll adopt Tommy, have more children of our own and live out our lives together as far from London as we can get.

That was what you wanted to say. And maybe you would have but for the fact of your husband, asleep in the other room. Yes, he could be cruel, and he cared more for his own pleasure than your comfort, but without him you’d not be here at all. You’d still be on the streets of London, Tommy would have hung from the gallows, and you’d be all alone, if you were even alive.

How could you repay that with heartbreak?

So instead, you closed your eyes, not wanting to look at Elliott as you broke his heart and your own instead.

“You can’t,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, Elliott.”

“[Y/n] —”

“The lady said no, Elliott.”

Your heart dropped when you heard the familiar sound of your husband’s voice. When had the snoring stopped? How long had he been standing there in the doorway, listening to Elliott pour his heart out to you?

Elliott stood and whirled around, his hand instinctively jumping to the gun on his hip.

William had apparently been awake long enough to dress himself, although in the Australian heat he had forgone the cravat and waistcoat over his shirt.

“I let you fuck my wife for a few weeks, and this is how you repay me? By trying to steal her from me? You may have borrowed her cunt, Elliott, but her heart is mine.”

Elliott sneered, his hand tightening slightly on the handle of his gun.

“Of course she thinks she loves you, William. She had to convince herself of it, because the alternative was hating you.”

William glanced at Elliott’s hand that gripped the gun, and he smirked.

“Are you going to shoot me, cousin?”

“Here and now? No. I’d not do you the dishonour of shooting you unarmed. But if you don’t have a gun with you, I’ll lend you my second revolver.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

Elliott stepped towards him menacingly, fingers twitching as he resisted pulling the gun out there and then.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to duel you for her.”

***

You hadn’t dressed in such a hurry in all your life. You were fairly certain you hadn’t laced your bodice up fully, but that was hardly your main concern right now.

You rushed outside to find the two men pacing around, each checking their guns. A small crowd of Elliott’s men had formed, jostling and laughing with each other, as if they were getting ready to watch a sports match.

You ran up to Elliott and grabbed his arm.

“Elliott, don’t do this, please!”

He looked up at you, a fierce look in his eyes.

“He’ll never let you go, [Y/n]. You know that. This is the only way.”

“I’ll never forgive you if you kill him.”

“I won’t shoot to kill. I just want to hurt him.”

You sniffed. “You’re hurting me, El.”

Elliott frowned, looking imploringly into your eyes, desperate for you to understand him, but you couldn’t.

What you did understand was that he and your husband were men, and men always did what they wanted, regardless of your feelings. This was no different.

So you stepped away, retreated to the porch, and sought comfort in Tommy, who was waiting for you there.

“Don’t look, Tommy,” you said dully, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you.

“I’ve seen loads of duels by now.”

You didn’t argue. Tommy was still a child, but he was growing into a man, and he’d do what he wanted too.

The men took their marks. Elliott had promised not to shoot to kill, but what of William? He held no issue with sending men to the gallows, but would he fire the shot himself?

Did either of them really expect you to want to be with him if he killed the other?

“This is the last chance,” called Cavanagh, who was apparently officiating the duel, as William and Elliott took their stances. “Lord Turpin, do you forfeit the duel and give your wife up to Mr Marston?”

“Of course I bloody don’t,” William snapped.

“Mr Marston, do you forfeit the duel and give up your pursuit of Lord Turpin’s wife?”

“Never.”

“Alright, then. Count of three. One, two… three.”

BANG-BANG!

The sand at Elliott’s feet blew in the air, and he laughed as he realised the shot hadn’t landed.

Your relief that Elliott was unharmed was short-lived when you looked over to William and saw that he’d fallen onto his side.

“Will!”

You ran to his side as fast as your legs would carry you over the sand, and skidded to your knees next to him. William was cradling his shin, which was bleeding profusely, and you immediately tore apart his trouser leg to expose the wound.

“Fucking bastard! He shot me! Your fucking boyfriend shot me!”

“I know, I know, I saw! Just hold still and let me look at it.”

Bloody Elliott and his bloody perfect aim. The bullet had just grazed the lower leg, and was probably lying around in the dirt somewhere. Even so, you knew from your own experience that it was a painful wound, so you didn’t begrudge the stream of swear words currently spewing from your husband’s mouth.

You tore a strip off your dress and wrapped it around his thigh to keep the bleeding as limited as you could to allow you to get him inside. You turned to Elliott’s men, who were still gawking, and shouted, “One of you help me get him inside!”

They hesitated, but behind you, Elliott nodded, so Cavanagh jogged over to pull William to his feet and let him lean on his shoulder as he hobbled back into the house.

You watched them go, fraught with worry for your husband, then turned to Elliott.

“Happy now?!”

Elliott shrugged. “I told you I wouldn’t shoot to kill. Just be glad I didn’t shoot him in the dick.”

You scoffed, then turned your back on him to follow William into the house. Cavanagh had just sat him on the sofa when you came in, and the servant poked his head around the door.

“Do you know how to clean a wound?” you asked him.

The servant nodded - why hadn’t you ever learnt his name? - and sat down on the floor, already with a cloth and bowl in his hands. How many times had he cleaned up a victim of Elliott’s gun-happy rages?

“I don’t care what he thinks his duel means,” William hissed, gritting his teeth against the pain as you knelt by his side. “He won’t have you.”

“No, of - of course not. I’m still your wife, William. I’ll always be your wife.”

“Try and leave here with her, and I won’t aim for the leg,” Elliott said from the doorway, his voice dripping with venom.

“Try it, you bloody bedswerver!” William shouted back. Whether it was the pain in his leg or the emotions of the whole situation, you couldn’t tell, but any sense of decorum your husband had was long gone. “I swear, I’ll drag you to court and sentence you myself - bloody hell, man, be careful!” he shouted at the servant, who was now dabbing rubbing alcohol on the wound.

“The only way you’ll leave here is alone or in a casket!”

“Stop it, both of you!”

You surprised even yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d raised your voice - and it had certainly never been at a man.

You stood, fighting back the tears that were welling in your eyes.

“It’s always the same with you men, fighting over who has control! I’m sick of it! You both claim to love me, yet neither of you seem to give a damn what I want!”

Elliott stepped towards you, looking you in the eyes earnestly.

“Then tell us what you want, [Y/n],” he said calmly, with none of the anger he’d been showing your husband. “Look me in the eye and tell me truly you want to leave here with him, and I won’t stop you.”

You hesitated.

“I… I don’t know what I want,” you said truthfully.

William scoffed. “You never know what you want.”

“Have you ever asked her?!” Elliott spat.

“I don’t need to ask her, Elliott, I know what she wants. Better than she does! Don’t let this man poison your mind, [Y/n] —”

“Poison her mind? With what, independent thought? God forbid.”

William grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, his leg now wrapped in a bandage. He and Elliott stared daggers at each other, both men’s faces twisted with hatred. William put a possessive hand on your shoulder.

“Very well. Let her choose. She won’t choose you anyway, Elliott. What, marry you and live out here, in this backwater desert? We live a life of luxury in London, don’t we, [Y/n]? In a few months we’ll be on our way back there and this whole debacle will be behind us. You’ll be nothing but a memory to her.”

Elliott sneered, then glanced at you, and his expression softened when he saw the tears in your eyes. He looked back at William.

“We’ll sort this Quigley business, then I want you out of here. Whether or not she leaves with you… that’s up to her.”

William considered the proposal, then nodded curtly.

“Very well. Until then.”

***

Dinner that evening was the most awkward affair you could have envisaged.

You were grateful that the servant, more observant than perhaps Elliott gave him credit for, had moved your chair to be seated next to your husband, making for you the awkward decision of whether to sit with Elliott as you always had, or to move next to William.

You did your best to fill the awkward silence, asking William about Melbourne, his work, the house he’d taken so much time and care to find for the two of you.

“And how do you find Australia herself?” Elliott asked, speaking for the first time since you’d all sat down. “She’s a harsh mistress, not every man can handle her.”

“Far too hot, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“You’ve certainly tanned, darling,” you said, raising a hand to gently touch William’s cheek. “I always thought you don’t get nearly enough sunlight cooped up in court all day. You look healthier now.”

William looked at you and swelled with pride at the compliment, then raised an eyebrow at you.

“And you, my dear, appear to have burnt. Did you overcook yourself?”

You withdrew your hand and blushed, although there wasn’t much skin to turn red that wasn’t already.

“I… sat out on the ridge too long. I was - um - waiting for you. Elliott had to bring me back before I roasted completely.”

William glanced over at Elliott. “I’m surprised you let her burn as much as she has, Elliott. Or do you like your girls crispy?”

Elliott’s jaw twitched. Before he could speak, there was a knock on the door, and one of his men let himself in to ask him about the reward for Quigley.

“Do you suppose he’ll be here shortly?” William asked with mild interest when the man left.

“Yes, I think so. I’ve got what’s left of my men guarding the whole station. That does beg the question, however, of what I’m going to do with the two of you.” Elliott pointed at you with his fork. “That man’s not getting remotely near you, that’s for sure. You’re staying inside.” He chewed thoughtfully, then said, “I suppose we don’t want you dying either, William.”

“I don’t intend on putting myself on the front line to protect your station, Elliott,” William scoffed. He placed a hand over yours. “I’ll look after [Y/n].”

Elliott didn’t seem to approve of that, but he said nothing about it.

“And what about you, Elliott?” you asked, your voice laced with worry. “I don’t want you dying either.”

Elliott smirked with self-assuredness you prayed wasn’t misplaced.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll kill Quigley before he has a chance to blink.”

After dinner, William retired for an early night, not having taken the nap he’d meant to take earlier on account of spending an hour fucking you instead. Although you weren’t tired, you obligingly went to bed with him, and when he fell asleep two orgasms later, you slipped out of his tight grip and got back into your dress.

You followed the sounds of gunshots to find Elliott around the back of the house, shooting at apparently nothing.

“What are you doing?”

Elliott turned around, and smiled when he saw you were alone.

“Just emptying my revolver. I want it freshly loaded when our visitor shows up. And I couldn’t stand to listen to William fucking you again, so I thought I’d pretend these fence posts are his dick.”

“Elliott, you shouldn’t say that,” you said in hushed tones, glancing around as if your sleeping husband could hear you from inside the house.

Elliott chuckled and wrapped his spare arm around your waist to pull you in close. You hesitated, but your body reacted to his so naturally, you found yourself melting into his embrace. He smiled and kissed the top of your head.

“Everything’s going to be alright, [Y/n]. I promise you.”

You looked up at him, desperate to say the words you never could, your heart aching from being torn in two.

“You said you’re sleeping in the lodge tonight?”

Elliott nodded questioningly.

“Maybe we could… go there now? Together, I mean…”

A devilish grin broke out across his face, and you ducked your head in embarrassment at your own forwardness.

“Well, well, well… sweet Lady Turpin, sneaking out of bed to proposition another man while her husband sleeps. You have grown bold, haven’t you?”

“I… we don’t have to… I don’t mean — I just want to be alone with you for a bit. Is there something wrong with seeking a bit of companionship?”

Elliott leaned down to kiss you, but then a shot rang out in the distance, and you were both jolted out of the moment, both of you turning towards the direction the shot came from.

“Maybe Scotty’s got Quigley,” suggested one man as he came jogging around the corner.

Elliott rolled his eyes, then took your hand and wordlessly pulled you away towards the lodge.

“They’ll warn me when he’s here,” he said, his voice low with the darkness that he saved for his men but dissipated when he looked at you. “Until then… you’re right. A bit of companionship is just what we both need.”

The lodge was a cabin near the back of the station, nothing as comfortable as Elliott’s house, but it was much better than the men’s quarters, and when the door closed behind you, you could almost forget you were anywhere at all. The lodge was the world as far as you cared, and nothing mattered to you in that moment but Elliott and his wandering hands as he pushed you up against the wall and kissed you as if he could only breathe air from your lungs.

You clung to him desperately, any sense of propriety or reservation forgotten the moment you closed the door.

Elliott grabbed hungrily at your bodice, pulling it down to release your breasts, and you whined into the kiss when he began pawing at you with desperation, as if it was his last chance to touch you and he might be interrupted at any moment.

You finally gasped for air when Elliott pulled away, your already sore skin stinging from the friction of his facial hair, but you didn’t care.

Elliott dropped to his knees in front of you and pulled your dress down past your hips. He let out a hungry growl when he saw your cunt, and you gasped when he buried his face between your legs, tongue desperately seeking the sweetest spots that he knew only took well.

The fact that his cousin had finished inside you only a short while ago did nothing to deter Elliott as he passionately made out with your cunt, and you felt your stress melting away with each lick, each contented hum from Elliott’s lips that betrayed the pleasure he found in worshipping you.

When his tongue began caressing your sweet spot with gentle yet rapid caresses, your orgasm came over you like an explosion. Elliott held your thighs firmly in his large hands, steadying you as your legs buckled beneath you, and he took your weight with no protest as you shuddered through your high, only pulling back when he was satisfied you were completely sated.

You were so lightheaded that at first you didn’t realise Elliott was making no move to take his own clothes off, and in fact it wasn’t until he was guiding your arms through your sleeves that you realised he was redressing you.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” you asked, feeling a little dejected that he apparently had no interest in you.

“I don’t need to fuck you to show you how I feel,” Elliott said softly. He took your hand and led you over to the nearby couch, and when you settled into his arms, you felt like you could fall asleep there and then.

“You’re right,” he murmured in your ear. “I just want to be alone with you for a bit.”

“Then why did you use your tongue if not to ready me for you?”

Elliott chuckled, his warm breath tickling your ear.

“You’ve been fucked enough today, [Y/n]. I wanted to make you feel good. Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Good. That’s all I care about anymore.”

You must have dozed off for a bit, because before you knew it, night had fallen and you were awoken when Elliott lifted you gently to move away from you. You blinked, bleary-eyed, wondering why Elliott was leaving. He opened the door and you heard the noise of a galloping horse, prompting you to shake yourself awake and follow Elliott outside.

The horse came to a stop in the middle of the station and you caught up with Elliott just as he met up with the half a dozen men that had gathered around the riderless horse.

A piece of paper was pinned to the horse’s saddle. One man tore it off and opened it to read, “Anyone can leave safely before dawn except Marston. The girl will not be harmed. Yours cordially, Matthew Quigley.”

Elliott snatched the paper from the man’s hand and screwed it up in anger. “He must think I’m stupid! This just means he’s gonna spring something on us in the night. Alright - nobody sleeps.”

He grabbed his hat from Cavanagh’s head. “Give me that!” he snarled, taking the jacket too, before taking you by the arm and leading you back towards the house.

“Come on, we’ve got to get you safe.”

“But the note said —”

“I know what the note says. Don’t believe a word of it. A monster like him, he’ll shoot anyone in sight, innocent or no. Go back to bed with your useless lump of a husband, meanwhile I’ll keep the monster at bay.”

“You expect me to sleep now?” you asked as you crossed the threshold, and Elliott stopped in his tracks, clearly not intending to follow you in.

“Sleep, read, fuck, whatever you want. Just stay safe. Quigley wants me, which means for once you’re not safe by my side. The only other man I trust to protect you, God help me, is William. Promise me you’ll stay inside.”

“I promise, El. Just - be careful, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”

He smiled smugly. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll outfox this snake if it’s the last thing I do.”

[alilixx]

fanfic characters x reader

I would also write fanfics about the actors (they are mostly the ones playing the characters on the list)

Here is my list:

Harry Potter:

Severus Snape:

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

Barty Crouch Jr.

Bellatrix Lestrange

Lucius Malfoy

Character I'm not sure I do:

Fred Weasley 

George Weasley

Draco Malfoy

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Tom Riddle 

Regulus Black

Fantastic Beasts:

Albus Dumbledore

Gellert Grindelwald

Minerva McGonagall

Lord Percival Graves

Hogwarts Legacy:

Phineas Nigellus Black

Sebastian Sallow

Aesop Sharp

Mirabel Garlick

Ominis Gaunt

Grand Theft Auto:

Michael De Santa

Trevor Philips

Franklin Clinton

Niko Bellic

Steve Haines

Lester Crest

Agent 14

Naruto:

Kakashi Hatake

Naruto Uzumaki

Sasuke Uchiha

Tsunade

Jiraya

Minato Namikaze

Gaara

Tobirama Senju

Senju Hashirama

Inuzuka Hana

Mitarashi Anko

Darui

Kushina Uzumaki

Kiba Inuzuka

Uchiha Shisui

Yujito Nii

Ôtsutsuki Indra

Ôtsutsuki Asura

Uchiha Obito

Mei Temurî

Boruto:

Naruto Uzumaki

Sasuke Uchiha

Mitsuki

Kawaki

Boruto Uzumaki

Konoha-Maru Sarutobi

Sakura Haruno

Jujutsu Kaisen:

Yuji Itadori

Utahime Iori

Masamichi Yaga

Inumaki Toge

Okkotsu Yûta

Sheko Ieiri

Yuki Tsukumo

Uraume

Toji Fushiguro

Gong Shi Woo

Atsuya Kusakabe

Ieri Shôko

Zenin Mai

Zenin Maki

Choso

Gojo Satoru

Megumi Fushiguro

Ryomen Sukuna

Mei Mei

Kento Nanami

Assassination Classroom:

Tadaomi Karasuma

Irina Jelavic

Koro Sensei (human)

One piece:

Shanks

Portgas D.Ace

Don Quijote Doflamingo

Roronoa Zoro

Sanji Vinsmoke

Coby

Trafalgar Law

Sabo

Marvel:

Agatha Harkness

Hela

Natasha Romanoff

Tony Stark

Yelena Belova

Loki Laufeyson

Sylvie Laufeydottir

Matt Murdock

May Parker

Scott Lang

Shang Chi

Stephen Strange

Thena

Wanda Maximoff

Xu Wenwu

Marc Spector

Steven Grant

Wednesday:

Larissa Weems

Morticia Addams

Lucifer:

Lucifer Morningstar

Chloe Decker 

Mazikeen Smith

Amenadiel

Charlotte Richards

Aurora (Rory) Morningstar

Michael

Sandman:

The Corinthian

Lucifer Morningstar

Desire

Johanna Constantine

Bleach:

Ichigo Kurosaki

Sousuke Aizen

Kuchiki Buyakuya

Coyote Stark

Resident Evil:

Leon S. Kennedy

Chris Redfield

Ashley Graham

Ethan Winters

Carlos Oliveira

Helena Harper

Rosemary Winters

Alcina Dimitrescu

Cassandra Dimitrescu

Daniela Dimitrescu

Bela Dimitrescu

Star Wars:

Kylo Ren

Captain Phasma

Din Djarin

Poe Dameron

Valorant:

Chamber

Viper

Reyna

Omen

La Casa De Papel:

Berlin

El Professor

Suárez

My Hero Academia:

Dabi

Shota Aizawa

Nemuri Kayama

Todoroki Shôto

Toga Himiko

Shimura Nana

Chisaki Kai

Attack on titan:

Hanji Zoe

Levi Ackerman

Annie Leonhart

Mikasa Ackerman

Pirates of the caribbean:

Jack Sparrow

Elizabeth Swann

Sweeney Todd:

Sweeney Todd

Mrs. Lovett

Judge Turpin

The Witcher:

Geralt Of Rivia

Yennefer of Vengerberg

Ciri

Kaamelott:

Arthur Pendragon

Léodagan

Bohort

Yvain

Gauvain

Ygerne

Elias de Kelliwic’h

Spy X Family

Loid Forger

Yor Forger

Castlevania

Dracula

Leon Belmont

Alucard

Trevor Belmont

Richard Belmont

Tera

Five Nights at Freddy’s

William Afton

Michael Schmidt

Vanessa Shelly

Satsuriku no Tenshi

Isaac Foster

Haikyuu!!

Yū Nishinoya

Tobio Kageyama

Tetsurō Kuroo

Fugou Keiji: Balance:UNLIMITED

Daisuke Kambe

Haru Katou

Ryo Hosino

Owari no Seraph

Guren Ichinose

Mikaela Hyakuya

Ferid Bathory

Crowley Eusford

Kureto Hiragi

Shinya Hiragi

Horn Skuld

Chess Belle

Rokudenashi Majutsu Koushi to Akashic Records

Glenn Radars

Sistine Fibel

Celica Arfonia

Albert Frazer

Domestic na Kanojo

Hina Tachibana

Rui Tachibana

Masaki Kobayashi

Reiji Kiriya

My new boss is Goofy

Shirosaki Yusei

Mitsuo Aoyama

Kinjo Aigo

Buddy Daddies

Kugi Kyûtarô

Suwa Rei

Kurusu Kazuki

Unasaka Misaki

Other characters

Sakata Gintoki from Gintama

Brienne of Tarth from Game of Thrones by Gwendoline Christie

Hans Gruber from Die Hard by Alan Rickman

Sinclair Bryant from Close my eyes by Alan Rickman

Miranda Hilmarson from Top of the Lake by Gwendoline Christie

Charlie Harper from My Uncle Charlie by Charlie Sheen

Isaac Foster from Angels of Deaths

Link from The Legend Of Zelda

Cereza from Bayonetta

Leonora Lesso from School for Good and Evil by Charlize Theron

Elaine Markinson from Gringo by Charlize Theron

Hannibal Lecter from Hannibal by Mads Mikkelson

Miss Perergrine from Miss Peregrine’s Home for Particular Children by Eva Green

Joel Miller from The Last Of Us by Pedro Pascal

Mr.Cat from Kaeloo

Michael Afton from Five Nights at Freddy’s

Marc from Le Flambeau by Jonathan Cohen

John Wick from John Wick’s movies by Keanu Reeves

Joe Goldberg from You by Penn Badgley

Crowley from Good Omens by David Tennant

Max Black from 2 Broke girls by Kat Dennings

Tobias from Ghost